Chapter 25

Submission

For those of you who are still reading this story. I am truly sorry that it took me so long to update. My spare time has become come very sparse and I try to write whenever I can. Rest assured I will not abandon this story and will see it to completion. Thank you all for your continued support, you all have been a great motivator to finish this little exercise in writing. Enjoy this chapter! (Also not beta'd so some errors might have gone undetected my sincere apologies for that)

Chapter 25

Submission

Anastasia

The room is pitch dark, not even the little bit of light coming from the alarm clock on my nightstand is able to penetrate the blinding darkness. My eyes feel heavy, but I gave up on trying to fall asleep hours ago. I feel hot and flushed Christian is holding me in iron like grip. His legs are draped over mine, and his arms cling to my upper body. I tried to move away from him into a more comfortable position, but it's useless. The further I try to run away from him the harder he clings to me. I sigh and stare at his face. I never realised just how beautiful he really is. His eyebrows form two perfectly straight lines above his face and are the same copper colour as his hair. His nose is aristocratic- straight edged and his lips seem almost perfectly symmetrical to each other. His jaw is strong, and the light stubble on it makes him even more attractive. But for all his beauty he seems haunted. Not even sleep appears to bring him any peace, and for the first time since our so-called arrangement, I am beginning to understand why. My mind is still reeling from his late-night confessions. My feelings and emotions are a jumbled mess, and I have no idea how to process them all.

There was a time, not so long ago, that I thought I would relish all the pain and suffering that would befall him. Every time I looked at him this feeling of intense hatred would burn my entire being. I wanted nothing more than hurt him as he had hurt me. But now this burning feeling of hate has been doused, and all I feel is a deep antagonising sadness every time I see him. I never realised that he was the very product of pain and suffering I so illy wished upon him. But at the same time, I am still angry at him I can't forgive or forget what he has done to me. It is something that I can't merely get past; at least not now and maybe never. He had no right to do those things to me, no matter how fucked up his formative years where. A sudden bolt of anger launches through me I am angry at him, I am mad at myself but most of all I am furious at his birth mother that disgusting abusive pimp and that hideous pedophilic woman. The depth of my rage shocks me I feel unbalanced and sick. I try to take a sip from the glass of water that is standing on my nightstand, but I cannot reach it because of Christians vice-like hold on me. Ever since I left him for a drink in the middle of the night and Christian had a nightmare he demanded that I always had a glass at hand. I sigh what good does that do me now? It is a question that goes so much further than a glass of water. I wonder if Christian thought the same when child services finally took an interest in him after his mother died. What if child services found them sooner and they got the help they needed? Would he still be this fucked up? What exactly made him the way he is today? Plenty of people get abused, but a lot if not most of them don't turn into violent abusers as Christian did. I remember grandma Steele telling me once that we are all responsible for our own choices. 'When Fortuna rolls her dice and hands you, your fate, the only choice you have is how to handle what she has given you.' she said; 'but we can choose how to deal with adversity, and it is those choices that will determine who we are and what we will become.' It seems evident that Christian is not happy with who he is. Does he want to change? These last few weeks Christian has been trying so hard to win my trust. He has been kind and understanding and hasn't pushed me to continue the sexual parts of our arrangement yet... He has kept his word. I cannot help but wonder how long he will do so though and I do not want to find out if and when he finally snaps and reverts back to the monster he has shown to be. If I need to have sex with him again, I want to do it on my terms and conditions.

Can I honour my part of the arrangement? And maybe if I can do that, I can show him that what he is doing is wrong and that he needs help. Help to make different choices and be a better person. I wonder if I can help him change, perhaps that is what he needs from me. Maybe that is the right choice for me to make now because I know deep down if I don't let go of the hate and the anger I feel for him it will eventually burn me alive and turn me into a bitter, hateful and angry person, and then he will have succeeded in destroying me. I choose not to let him control my life in this way, and maybe this entire horrible experience will end up having a silver lining if I can make him see the errors of his way. I scoff. This sounds naive even to my own ears, but what choice do I have? I cannot continue to live this way burdened by anger and hatred. This does not mean I forgive him I am making this choice for me. I tried to let go of my anger and hate I held for him before, but I couldn't do it. For some reason him opening up to me like he did yesterday makes it easier to try and do so again finally. Perhaps it is so because he seems much more human now, a flawed very damaged human who I can sympathise with. I feel bone tired, and my head hurts from all these questions and thoughts floating around my head. I sigh and close my eyes and wish for a moment of rest. Tomorrow will bring more answers I hope.

Light pours into the open curtains of the bedroom, and the cheerful sound of chirping birds fill the room. I must have eventually fallen asleep some were in the early morning hours. I look at the alarm clock shocked to see that its nearly noon.

'Good morning Anastasia.'

I look up and see Christian sitting on a dark brown Chesterfield chair in the corner of the room. He is wearing a white button down shirt and a light blue sweater. His hair is a tousled copper red mess on his head, and the stopple on his face has become even more pronounced and is slowly developing into a thick red beard. His grey eyes shine brightly, and a small smile plays on his lips.

I wonder how long he has been watching me sleep.

'Morning.' I mumble feeling a little uncomfortable.

'You must have been tired. I am sorry I kept you up so late last night with my shenanigans.' He says a little contritely, and I hate that he is feeling guilty about sharing his past with me.

'Please don't feel guilty. I think I was a little jet-lagged. I am glad and honoured that you told me, thank you for trusting me. For sharing that part of your life with me.'

He looks surprised and then smiles at me shyly, and for a moment he looks like a sweet little boy.

'I told you, Anastasia. Your thrust means the world to me it is the basis for any relationship. I promised you that I would earn your thrust. I hope that sharing this with you helped you deal with some apprehension you had with my intentions with you.' He says suddenly sounding very sternly. His sudden mood swings give me whiplash.

'I am trying Christian. Believe me, I am trying.'

He looks at me intently and then nods. 'Good Anastasia that is good. Now get up and freshen up and get ready. I have plans for today.'

'Plans? It looks cold outside.' I lament. I kind of hoped that we could stay in this house today. I was really hoping to raid the library.

'Yes. It is a surprise. Just trust me it will be fun. Now get up wench!' He says smiling again.

There is that word again thrust. I gingerly get out of bed and move to the bathroom.

'I will tell Mrs Bentley to cook you up some breakfast.' He says and moves swiftly out of the bedroom leaving me to my own devices.

I quickly take a pee, wash my hands and brush my teeth before walking back into the bedroom. I know I shouldn't be, but I am mildly surprised to see a change of clothes draped over the chair Christian just vacated. A cream-coloured cable knitted sweater and a pair of jeans.

The delicious smells of bacon and waffles fill the air as I walk down the stairs. My stomach rumbles promptly reminding me of my hunger.

'Good morning miss Steele.' Mrs Bentley says smiling.

'Good morning Mrs Bentley. It smells delicious.' I sit down on one of the kitchen chairs and smile back at her.

She serves me a plate of bacon and waffles which I gratefully accept.

'Coffee?' she asks while holding up the pot.

'Miss Steele does not drink coffee Mrs Bentley, only Twinnings breakfast tea. There is a new pack of it in the left kitchen cabinet near the window. I, however, do like another cup of coffee.' Christians deep timbre voice booms through the kitchen startling me.

'Of course sir.' Mrs Bentley answers quickly pour him a steaming cup before scurrying off to make me some tea. I am not used to people making me food and Christian reprimanding her like that is making me feel a little guilty.

'I am glad to see you dressed and eating. I want to leave the moment you are done eating.' He says while sliding down on the chair next to me.

'Where are we going?' I try again hoping to be more successful in getting an answer this time.

'I told you, its a surprise.' He says before taking a sip of his coffee.

'I don't like surprises.' I mope. He looks at me and scowls a little.

'Anastasia we talked about this before. You promised to give me, us a fair trial. If that promise was serious, you need to start and learn to trust me. What I have planned is suppose to be fun for both of us. Don't ruin this day with your petulant attitude.' He snaps, and I immediately feel contrite. I did promise him that. I really need to try harder.

'I am sorry..' I begin but he quickly interrupts me.

'It's fine. Just finish your breakfast so we can go.'

I quickly eat the remainder of my breakfast. For some reason, I don't want Christian to be angry with me.

'Ready?' He asks when I put the final piece of pancake in my mouth.

'Yes.' I reply and pick up my plate too but in the washing machine.

'Leave that for Mrs Bentley. Come.' He grabs my hand and ushers me outside the front door to a sleek, black sports car that reminds me of the batmobile. I haven't seen it before, but it looks stunning.

He opens the passenger door for me, and I get into the car. The distinct leathery new car smell waves around me. I expected the interior to be full of buttons, displays and gadgets but to my surprise, it is very sober.

'This car is amazing!' I tell Christian when he slides into the driver's seat. He gives me a lopsided boyish grin. It makes him look 10 years younger.

'I know. It is a Bugatti Veyron one of the fastest and most exclusive cars on Earth. She is completely hand built, and there is a waiting list of about two years to get one of these. I bought mine a couple of years back. I only use it when I am here.' He says proudly before putting the key into the ignition and pressing the start button. The engine roars to, and I am pushed back into my seat when he steps on the gas. It feels like I am in a roller coaster and I cannot help but smile.

He glances sideways at me and grins widely.

'You enjoying yourself?' He asks.

'Uhuh. This is amazing!'

The car glides over the road smoothly past the snow-covered rocks, hills and mountains. I don't even notice that we have been driving for over an hour. The landscape has slowly turned greener and flatter. Christian makes a sharp turn and drives onto a sandy road. He stops at a large open field at the end of the way. He gets out of the car and opens the door for me. I am kind of bomb that the car ride has ended.

'Wow, this was the best car trip I ever had. This car really is amazing. I would love to drive it sometime.'

Christian frowns at me his excellent mood seems to have evaporated suddenly.

'Anastasia this is a powerful car. Dangerous for a novice driver. You are not allowed to drive it.' He says sternly confusing me. I don't understand why he is so upset about of this. I open my mouth to say something, but he brusquely interrupts me.

'Come.' He takes my hand and escorts me through a small fence leading to the field. An older man with thick grey hair and a rounded belly comes running towards us and enthusiastically waves at Christian.

'Mr. Grey sir, welcome!'

'Ron, nice to see you again.' Christian greets him warmly. 'I would like you to meet my girlfriend, Anastasia Steele.´

I am shocked and feel slightly ill. Girlfriend? It is the first time since he revered to me as his girlfriend and I cannot help but find that title highly inappropriate to describe the perverted nature of our relationship. Why did Christian feel the need to introduce me this way? Ron does not seem to notice my distress because he greets me excitedly.

'Lovely to meet you miss Steele.' He says while vigorously shaking my hand.

'Pleasure is all mine.' I answer back politely.

He turns his attention back to Christian again. ' She is good to go whenever you are sir.'

Christian nods at him. 'Excellent work Ron. Take us to her.'

Who is she? My curiosity is most certainly peaked. Christian escorts me to the far end of the field, and I notice a large basket and a whole lot of nylon fabric on the grass. Then it dawns on me he is taking me for a balloon ride! I can hardly contain my excitement. I always wanted to go for a balloon ride it was kind of a distant pipe dream I had for a long time. I never expected that it would ever come true.

'We going for a balloon ride?' I ask disbelievingly. Christian glances sideways at me and grins.

'You seem happy about the prospect. Dare I say I pleased you, ma'am'.' He teases cheerfully. His perpetual mood swings still baffle me. I silently wonder if that's one of the reasons why I find it so hard trust him. Nevertheless, I smile at him the prospect of a balloon ride is just too exciting.

'I always wanted to go on a balloon ride!'

'Well then, It pleases me that I can make you wish come true. Ron here is an excellent aeronaut we will be in good hands.'

The hot air from the gas burner envelopes us when we stand before the basket. The balloon grows larger and starts to rise.

'Yes, it is ready sir! We can board!' Ron yells enthusiastically.

Christian gently lays his hand on my lower bag and helps me in the basket before boarding himself. Ron increases the heat on the burner, and suddenly it feels like the ground is shifting beneath us as the balloon slowly starts to rise into the air. I let out a squeal of shock and delight and Christian chuckles behind me. He puts his hand on my shoulder and gently squeezes me.

'You having fun?' He asks.

'Yes, Christian this is amazing!'

'Well, I am glad it pleases you. Come, have a drink with me.' He opens a compartment in the basket and takes out a bottle of champagne. He quickly pops the cork and pours two glasses handing me one.

I stare down at the ground that is miles beneath me. Its a novel and weird experience the land beneath us seems fast and open, but the man-made structures seem small and insignificant.

'Beautiful isn't it? I found out that flying gives you an entirely new perspective on the world. It has thought me to see things from a larger point of view and it has made me more humble and appreciative of our planet. At the end of the day with are just little specs in a huge place. It is soothing somehow.' Christian says pensively.

Looking down I see precisely what he means.

'I understand what you mean. The world does look different from up here. Its peaceful and quiet like all the problems in the world have just melted away. I wish I could stay up here forever. '

He nods and clinks his glass with mine.

'Too great heights.' He says.

'Too great heights.' I reply back and take a sip of the champagne. It tastes, unlike anything I have ever eaten. It is both sweet and sour at the same time. I really enjoy it. We stand in companionable silence in the middle of the basket for a while before I decide to move closer to the side of the basket to enjoy the view from there. I grab the edge of the basket and look down. Once again I am amazed by the aerial view. The earth looks like a patchwork blanket from up here. Suddenly I feel two strong arms pulling be backwards bumping me into a hard muscular chest before I can comprehend what happens he spins me around holding me even tighter. Frightened I look up into his face. His facial expression is grim, and his eyes are slits giving him almost a snake-like appearance. What the hell is wrong now?

'Don't stand so close to the edge.' He hisses.

'What?' I ask feeling bewildered.

'You are standing to close to the edge! You could fall down!' His teeth are clenched, and he looks wild, fearful even. Once again he reminds me of a lost little boy.

'But its perfectly save Christian. It wasn't like I was hanging over the reeling. I think you are overreacting calm down. I was just admiring the view.' I say as gently as I can.

'I am not overreacting! It is not safe for you to loiter around the edge of the damn basket. You can admire the view from up here next to me.' He grunts out petulantly.

I feel exasperated, first the car now this. Why is he unable to see how over the top his reaction is? For such a highly intelligent man he seems to be unable to see reason at times. It is baffling.

'Christian, why would you take me on a balloon ride if you feel it is not safe?'

He looks surprised for a moment and mumbles something unintelligible.

'Its perfectly safe if you stay next to me.' He mumbles.

'Look, Christian. You want me to trust you right?'

'Yes.' He says giving a brief nod.

'Than you need to trust me too. You need to trust that I am able to make choices that are good for me and that I won't put myself in danger.' I plead with him.

Once again he looks surprised and is quiet for the longest time. Finally, he nods at me and says:

'Good point, well made miss Steele.'

All too soon the balloon lands back again on the farmers' field. I am kind of sad that it's over I have genuinely enjoyed myself flying so high over the Colorado hills and valleys. We say our goodbyes to Ron and walk back to the car.

'Here.' He suddenly says while throwing me a set of keys. I quickly catch them and stare at the blinking Bugatti logo on the key chain.

'You letting me drive the car?' I ask incredulously.

'Yes. You want me to trust you, don't you? Show me that I can.' He simply says.

'I get to drive the car?' I ask again unable to process what just happened.

'Yes, now go before I change my mind.' He grunts. I cannot help but squeal with glee. The feeling of excitement is almost overwhelming. Christian looks slightly horrified though.

'Don't worry I am a good driver.' I say and smile at him reassuringly.

'Don't tell me, show me.' He replies flippantly.

I press the start button and the car roars to life. I gently push the gas pedal, and the car immediately lurches forward.

'Easy!' Christian growls.

'Sorry.' I say sheepishly. This car is aggressive and responds instantly at the slightest touch. Soon I am getting the hang of it and the car smoothly glides over the road and Christian looks considerably less nervous.

'Take a right here.' He orders confusing me a little.

'Aren't we going back to your place?'

'Yes, we are, but dinner first. There is a great restaurant about 8 miles from here.'

'Oh, ok. I am kind of hungry.' I dare to admit, and he smiles at me.

'Good, I promise you, you are going to love Daffodils.'

The car continues smoothly over the road, and I cannot help but enjoy the ride. It drives like a dream. All too soon Christian instructs me to drive of the main road on to a narrow winding dirt road that, after about a 10-minute drive ends on a small concrete parking lot surrounded by forests. A large wooden log cabin stands proudly on the edge of the lot. The whole place looks Idyllic.

'Stay put.' He says when I park the car again baffling me. He gets out of the passenger side and walks around the car to open my door.

'Such manners Mr Grey.'

'I was raised a gentleman, Ms Steele. My mother would not want it any other way.' He says and gives me a mock curtsy bow.

The subtle scent of pine and smoked meat linger in the fresh early evening mountain air. Memories of childhood Christmases with mom and dad in our home in Montesano flood my mind. Suddenly I long intensely for those save and uncomplicated days. That time has passed as quickly as sand through an hourglass leaving me with a mere memory of bygone days. It makes me feel morose.

´Come, let us go inside.´ Christian says. He takes my hand and leads me into the restaurant. The restaurant has a typical cabin-like atmosphere. There are wooden floors, walls, tables, benches and chairs everywhere with various rugs and Confederate memorabilia scattered on the walls and floors. A fireplace is blazing at the back of the dining room producing a genuine warmth.

A bottle red-haired waitress immediately greets Christian in an obeisance manner when she spots us.

´A table for two Mr Grey?' She asks with a high pitched whinny voice. Christian just nods at her not sparing her a word. It is rather rude, to be frank. She leads us to a table near the fireplace and Christian holds my chair out for me.

'A bottle of Pinot noir and ask Percy for some Louisiana shrimps.' He barks at here before sitting down opposite of me.

'Of course Mr Grey.' She replies and scurries off.

'Do you come here often?'

'Daffodils is one of the best southern styled restaurants in Colorado. The owner is an old high school friend of my mother. My parents used to bring us here all the time when we were little and vacationing in Aspen. I have a lot of good memories of this place.' He says trailing his last sentence absentmindedly. For a brief moment, he seems to be lost in his thoughts, but he quickly focuses again fixing his eyes back on me.

'I ordered the Louisiana shrimps for starters. They are the house speciality. I also recommend the mashed potatoes with gravy, mac and cheese, Mississippi fried chicken, collard greens, bbqed tomahawk with white gravy and biscuits, pit BBQed pork and slow broiled catfish.' He says pointedly.

'That is almost the entire menu!' I exclaim. He shrugs and gives me a small smile.

'What can I say everything here is good.'

I skim the menu again unsure what I really want to try especially since Christian just said everything is okay. Although I am pretty sure the catfish is a no, no. I hate catfish. I feel him staring at me. I look up right into his intense grey gaze. It is unnerving.

'Let me order for you, I promise you won't be disappointed.'

'Just don't order the catfish.'

He looks surprised for a moment.

'You don't like catfish?'

'No, I hate it. My grandmother used to make it every time we visited her in Georgia, and my mom always made me eat it. Even though she knew I hated it. She always told me fish was healthy and I should not hurt my Nana's feelings by refusing to eat it. She was just as good of a cook as my mom.'. The memory of my grandma warms my heart. I miss her very much. She died two years ago.

He nods and gives me a small smile.

'Ok, so no catfish. I take it that your mom isn't an excellent cook?'

'She has her days but most of the time her cooking is pretty bad, and the worse thing is that she does not even know it. If she ever finds out how often Ray and I secretly ordered pizza or made grilled cheese sandwiches so we wouldn't starve she would have a fit.'

He laughs a real deep belly laugh, and I realise that I have never heard him laughing like this before.

'That bad he?'

I smile back at him sharing his mirth.

'Yeah, she really is that bad. How about you? Is there any food you don't like?'

The smile on his face slowly fades and grows quiet and contemplative.

'I'll eat anything. I guess when you have really known hunger you learn to appreciate every morsel of food handed to you.' His voice is soft, a mere whisper and the look on his face is pained.

I cannot begin to imagine the depravity of his early childhood. I am momentarily bewildered by the compassion I feel for him. I never thought I was capable of having so much empathy for him.

I try to swallow down the lump that has formed in my throat. I need to know how bad it was. I don't really know why maybe it will help me understand him better? Yes, I guess that must be it.

'Were you often left without food?'

He scoffs loudly.

'The crack whore would be out of it for days when she was drugged up. She would not even notice me. A sweet old lady was living next to us. She would sometimes bring us something to eat. I remember trying to be as frugal as possible with those meals. Making sure the crack whore had something too. Not that she cared much about eating when she was high as a kite. But it kept me from starving I guess….. It was better when she was sober she would sometimes cook for us Mac and cheese, it was something she made often. I still love Mac and cheese..' His voice his a mere whisper and his eyes are distant and distressed. Its both harrowing and sobering to see him like this. He looks nothing like the great and powerful CEO pretends to be but everything like the lost, frightened, little boy he really is. It is heart-wrenching to see him like this. I want to make him feel better no one deserves to be treated the way he was treated as a child. I reach out and gently take his hand in mine. The motion seems to snap him out of his funk, and his eyes grow dark and feral. I shouldn't have touched him without his permission! How could I have been so stupid?

I quickly pull my hand away, but he snatches it back and gently caresses the back of my hand.

'I like it when you touch me.' He says hoarsely.

'Oh, ok..' I am at a loss for words not really knowing how to handle this situation.

'Shall I pour you a glass of wine Mr Grey?' I did not even notice the waitress coming back with our entrees en wine, but I am grateful for her interruption. She unashamedly flirts with Christian, hoping he spares her a glance. His face, however, has become an emotionless mask. There is not a trace left of the vulnerability he shown before. He looks up at her coolly.

'Get me a glass of water, sparkling. The wine is for my date.' He says brusquely and points towards my glass.

I look at him confounded. Why did he order a whole bottle of wine when he is not going to drink any?

'Don't you want a glass?'

He shakes his head before answering.

'No, I need to drive us back safely.'

'Well, you could have ordered me just a glass then. I am not going to drink an entire bottle by myself.'

He looks stunned for a moment and then smiles shyly.

'I guess you are right. I am not used to ordering one glass of wine, or drive myself home after dinner in a restaurant.' He looks at the waitress again who is standing lamely next to me. He rattles off various dishes before carelessly dismissing her. The way he treats her makes me feel a little uncomfortable, and I silently wonder how he got on top in the business world with such poor people skills.

'What is on your mind?' He asks while scrutinising me. How does he know?!

'Nothing, it is just... You were kind of crass with the waitress.'

He chuckles.

'That what's bothering you?'

'Well, yeah... Kinda..' I stammer.

'Anastasia, women like that, have ogled me furiously since I was a teen, it is tiring. I find their constant stares and flirtations rude, unprofessional and disrespectful to the woman I am with. As you know, I am not one to sugarcoat things. I let them know that I am not interested in a blunt manner so there can be no doubt about my position.'

'Oh, I see. I guess I am just not used to having people stare and flirt with me all the time.'

He looks at me like he has seen a Martian.

'You really have no idea do you?'

'Huh?' I reply not understanding his question.

'You truly have no idea how incredibly beautiful you are. Right now I can point out at least eight men that are staring at you. I want to beat the crap out of each and every one of them for doing so. They need to understand that you are mine!'

His? I am not some piece of property that he owns! I want to yell at him but decide to change the subject to something less contentious. I am confident my retort would have resulted in another verbal fight. I don't have the energy to fight him right now. He asks me about growing up in green, lush Montesano, and I ask him about growing up in affluent Bellevue.

The waitress comes again with our food I am shocked to see how much he has ordered. Fried chicken, Tomahawk steak, pulled pork mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, corn on a cob, coloured greens. Everywhere I look there is a dish.

'How are we supposed to eat all this?' I say gaping at him.

'By putting it in your mouth, chewing it and swallowing it, so it lands in your stomach.' He replies and I roll my eyes at him.

'You know, sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.' I retort.

'Is it now? I happen to find it a very effective form of communication. Did you know rolling your eyes at someone is very disrespectful?.' He comments while plating his plate full of food.

'Well, I am sorry I offended you.'

He chuckles.

'No, your not. Now eat your food.'

Christian was right everything is absolutely delicious. Before I know it heaps of various foods cover my plate and Christian seems to be delighted with that. We talk about movies, books, music and his love for science and building stuff. I cannot believe how witty, insightful and knowledgeable he is. I also discover his great sense of humour. I am genuinely enjoying myself and his company. It almost makes me forget what kind of man he really is. The thought is disturbing, and I quickly suppress it. I don't want to think about any of that tonight. I just want to enjoy this day, and right now I will gladly settle for pretended normality.

Getting to know him this way and liking him is confusing the hell out of me. Right now, I am not really sure how to deal with these new feelings. My stomach is full, and the wine has given me a pleasant buzz. It helps me not to think about my situation.

I stare out of the window as the car drives smoothly over the road back to Christians Colorado mountain home. Small snowflakes dwindle down from the sky. The deep green colour of the pine trees on the side of the road creates a dark contrast on the canvass of night.

Christian effortlessly stirs the car to the gates of his mountain mansion and presses a button on his steering wheel. The gates immediately swing open giving us access to the estate.

'We are here.'He says while parking the car in front of the house. He gets out and opens my door before leading me to the house.

Before we are right and well inside Taylor comes striding into the foyer.

'Good evening Mr Grey. Could I have a word, please? Miss Steele good evening.' He nods at me. Christian looks annoyed.

'Taylor, my office. Anastasia, you have to entertain yourself for a moment. If you need anything just ask Mrs Bentley and she will get it for you.' Before I can respond, he turns on his heels with Taylor scurrying after him. I sigh and look around the foyer. Various pieces of abstract art form a stark contrast with the white walls. It all looks sleek, clean and modern just like the rest of the house. Christians penthouse in Escala has a similar decor. I guess when Christian picks a theme he sticks to it.

I decide to go to the library. I have been itching to spend some time there ever since Christian showed it to me when we toured the house.

I open the door to the library and breathe in the scent of old paper and leather. It makes me feel centred and calm. I idly scan the bookshelves looking for something to read, but somehow nothing seems to capture my interest. I look around, and I see the pool table standing at the side of the room. Funny that I had not noticed it before. I touch the edge of the pool table. The wood is smooth and cool to the touch. Memories of late night pool games with Kate and Jose flood my mind, I miss them both badly. The last time I spoke with either of them was on Christmas day. I just wish that I could see them again. I sigh knowing that seeing them won't happen anytime soon. The thought is depressing, and I quickly refocus my attention back on the pool table. I take out the triangle and carefully arrange the balls inside them before removing it again.

The cue feels heavy in my hands when I take aim at the neatly arranged balls. With a loud clang, the balls scatter over the far sight of the table, and I manage to pocket two stripped balls. Excitement coursed through me. If Jose were here, he would have boasted about how well he taught me. It makes me smile.

'Nice shot.' The sound of his deep voices startles me. I turn around and see him prowling into the room his eyes are to orbs of burning intensity, but the rest of his face is an emotionless mask. There is something off about his entire demeanour, and it is unnerving me. Gone is the kind and funny man I had at dinner.

'Thank you.' I reply softly.

'Tell me Anastasia, was that shot a stroke of luck or do you play well?' The tone of his voice is slightly taunting, and it irks me. Why is he acting like this all of a sudden? I narrow my eyes at him.

'I can play quite well thank you very much.' He cocks his heads to the side and studies me for a moment.

'Do you now? Care to make a wager?' He asks lazily, and I am intrigued.

'You want to make a bet?'

He gives me a brief nod.

'That is what I said. We play a game if I win you will have sex with me tonight…' His tone is soft but deliberate. My stomach drops and I feel faint. So here we are again. I knew sex would eventually come up again. It was only a matter of time. He kept his word thus far but why is he making this lewd wager now? Is he acting like this because he is horny? He appears to sense my hesitation because he quickly speaks again.

'You still have trouble trusting me I see. ..You are of course free to decline. We could just play a game for fun?'

There it is again the word trust. Thus far Christian has kept his word but him pushing this subject makes it all feel a little dishonest. At the same time, I feel like a coward who is trying to backtrack on a long made deal, and that is dishonest on my part.

'What do I get that when I win?' I ask deciding to play his game.

'I subtract a week time from our arrangement.' He merely states surprising me. A week sooner out of his grasp. A week?! It's an offer I cannot refuse the sooner I am out of this fucked up arrangement, the better.

'Ok, I play.' I say without hesitation.

He looks unconvinced.

'Anastasia you need to be sure, my word is my bond I expect yours to be the same. You don't have to take the bet.'

His tone of voice annoys me. Does he see me as someone fickle girl who does not keep her word? Does really think I do not stand a chance against him? He is such an arrogant asshole!

'I know, but I want to.' I reply unable to keep the irritation out of my voice.

Christian seems to be unperturbed by my vexation.

'Excellent.' He smiles and places the balls back into the triangle before removing it again.

'Ladies first.'

I narrow my eyes and concentrate on the white balls aiming for the perfect break. With a loud clang, the balls scatter across the table, and I managed to pocket two stripped balls. That was a perfect break and should wipe that arrogant look of Christians face. I look up and see him idly playing with his cue, seemingly unimpressed with my break. Asshole I think bitterly. I aim twice more and manage to pocket two more balls before my third shot misses its mark.

Christian lazily walks towards the table.

'You are a woman of many talents Anastasia, you play well. I am impressed.' He gives me a sly smile bends over the table and takes aim.

'So, you admit that you underestimated me?' I ask haughtily. Happy that some of his arrogance seems to have disappeared.

A loud clang fills the room, and he pockets his first ball with flawless precision. He looks at me and gives me a wry smile.

'Maybe somewhat.' He admits before retaking aim, flawlessly pocketing his second ball. 'But then again, I have always trusted my own abilities above everyone else's.'

His arrogance is truly infuriating, and I become even more determined to win this game. Unfortunately, he does not miss a single ball. He lines the white ball perfectly behind the black eight ball. He aims and shoots the ball straight into the left pocket corner. He stands up and throws his cue on the table. It lands with a loud thud startling me. His stares at me with such intensity it burns.

My mouth is parched, and I swallow desperately trying to moisture my mouth. A part of me dreads what's about to come while another part of me feels relieved knowing, that, what was inevitable is coming to fruition.

'You see, Anastasia I never make a wager that I will not win. Pool is like mathematics, it looks chaotic at first, but there is perfect logic behind it. Only visible to those who look deeper.' He slowly saunters over to me each step, deliberate and resolute.

Instinctively, I take a few steps back and move behind the other side of the pool table. He stops mid-stride his mouth is slightly agape, and he looks hurt as someone slapped him.

'Why are you running from me? Don't ever run from me!' His face is wrought with anger.

'I am not…' I start, but he immediately interrupts me.

'You gave me your word! But you never meant it didn't you? You still do not trust me!' He snarls angerly.

'Christian, I…' I stammer at a loss for words. I promised myself and him that I would honour this bet, this arrangement but somehow actually doing so is incredibly hard. Why am I such a coward?

'You, you don't want me, you are just like her. ' Christian says dejectedly.

Gone are the anger, confidence and arrogance. The man in front of me is a sad, broken little boy. I take a tentative step towards him, but he does not seem to register it. His eyes are glazed over like he somewhere else.

'Fuck it!' He growls not looking at me and stalks out of the room. I am completely thrown off kilter not knowing what to do. I feel like shit, like a fraud who stole someones lives savings. My word is my bond, and I tend to honour it. The decision is firmly made in my mind, and I decide to go after him.

I find him in the bedroom nursing a glass of Scotch he looks forlorn out of the massive bedroom windows. Soft Jazz music is playing in the background, and I notice two large manila folders on his nightstand. On the bed, two pictures of an elderly woman and a woman in her fifties lay on the bed. They look familiar, but I cannot seem to place them. He turns to make like he has read my mind.

'Its funny that you are always wanted by those you do not want to be wanted by.' He says cryptically.

'I do not understand..'

He smiles a sad little smile.

'Of course, you wouldn't.'

He takes the pictures from the bed and throws them in the trash bin next to the nightstand.

The way he callously disposes of the pictures shocks me.

'They are of no consequence.' He says dismissively, and I do not dare to question him even though my curiosity has peaked.

'Christian? My word is my bond, and I will honour my part of our arrangement and the bet we made. These last couple of weeks you have held your end of the bargain and have given me the time that I ask for. I trust that you will keep your word because you have done so already. Therefore I would like to move further with our agreement.'

He swirls the whiskey in his glass, and when he looks up at me, the fiery intensity in his eyes has returned.

'I want you to want me Anastasia, the same way I want you. But I will have you any way I can get you even if it means by hook or crook. I am not a good man, Anastasia but you must have realised that months ago. When we do this there is no coming back do you understand?'

It is a chilling confession of something I already know and it makes me feel like my trust in him is enormously misplaced. Does he indeed intend to honour our full agreement? I swallow nervously.

'Yes, I do.' I reply softly.

Slowly but determinedly he walks towards me.

'My sweet, brave Anastasia.' His fingers softly stroke my face. I am nervous, apprehensive of what's about to come. He senses my distress.

'I promise it's going to be amazing for the both of us. Would you like a drink to calm your nerves?' He offers while pointing at a bottle of whiskey standing on one of the nightstands. I hate whiskey, so I shake my head.

'Come, sit on the bed with me.' He leads me to the bed, and I sit next to him. He puts his hand on my knee and starts to kiss my neck his lips are firm and warm against my skin. The sensation sends shivers down my spine. He moves attention to my throat and collarbone, his breath is hot, and the sweet smell of whiskey fills my nose. I can still taste it when he kisses me hotly on the mouth. His tongue meets mine demanding dominance.

The sound of lips crashing against each other is the only thing I hear its reverberating right through me cancelling out every other noise in the room. I tentatively kiss him back stroking his tongue with my own. His hands cup my breasts squeezing them roughly, and I cannot help but moan.

'Raise your hands.' He growls, and I comply he swiftly pulls the sweater over my head and makes quick work of my bra.

'So beautiful.' He murmurs he pushes me, so I am laying on my back on the bed. He opens the button of my jeans pulls them down with my panties, my feet are temporally stuck in the leg of my jeans, but he quickly solves that inconvenience.

He pulls out his own clothes, and I am once struck by his beauty. His body is sculptured like a work of Giovanni Bologna, perfectly proportioned at every angle. I gasp at the sight of his penis it is hard, thick and large and the head covered with glistening moisture. I swallow still unable to grasp how it ever fit inside of me.

'Anastasia I am going to tie you up. Do you understand?'

'Why?' fear grips me and I am instantly transported back to that horrible night in Italy when he first raped me.

He looks pained.

'Because you cannot touch me.'

I am harshly reminded on the horrifying first years of his life. The small faded scars on his chest serve as a testament to that fact.

'What if I promise I won't touch you?'

A sad smile mares his mouth.

'You might inadvertently do so, and the results of that would be pretty ugly.'

Images of him hitting me flash through my mind and dismay fill me. A part of me wants to run far away from here, from him.

'What will you tie me up with?'

He picks up a blue tie that is draped over one of the chairs.

'With this. Now lay back down in the middle of the bed and put your hands above your head.' He instructs without preamble. I comply hoping it will be over soon.

He straddles me and ties the tie around both of my hands before attaching it to the headboard of the bed. He smiles.

' All set. You can't run away from me now.' His pupils are dilated, and there is a predatory look on his face. An uneasy feeling swirls around in the pit of my stomach, and I realise that despite my bravado and self-imposed promises I still fear him.

'Please, don't hurt me.' I whisper he looks offended.

'Your anxiety is tiring. I told you this will be great for us both. Just watch feel and enjoy.' He lowers his head to my breasts. His mouth clams down my nipple, suckling hard it feels warm and moist, painful and pleasurable in equal measure. I feel lost not knowing what to do. Fear, lust, pleasure and anxiety fight for dominance in my mind.

'Ah!' I cry out. The pleasure is almost unbearable.

'That's right baby, let me hear you.' His voice is husky, barely audible. He alternates between breasts, and I lose all sense of time. I feel his hot mouth on my belly his hot kisses scorch my skin. I sense his hand between my legs, and I buck when one of his fingers slips inside me. The intrusion is foreign sending shivers down my spine. He slowly moves it out of me before pushing it in again.

'Please.' Its a plea but I do not know what for. This is all so confusing.

'You are mine Anastasia do you understand?'He hisses.

The sudden sensation of his mouth on my most intimate parts sends shock waves through my body, and a rush of wetness dampens the sheets. He stops his ministrations and stares at me triumphantly. His facial expression is intense and feral. The smell of my own arousal hangs heavy in the air.

'Your body knows that you are mine. Soon you will understand.'

He bends his head continuing his exploration of my pussy. Sucking, licking, kissing every part of my vagina. Every caress and kiss sends me flying higher and higher, and I want, no I need more. Every other thought seems to leave my mind.

'Oh god.' I moan. His attentions become more rapid, furious even. Abruptly he pushes his tongue inside of me, the palpation is sensational sending me over the edge, and I tremble and scream.

'That's right baby let it all out.' I feel the thick head of his cock pressed against my pussy and he slowly pushes into me.

'Who's cock is inside of you?' He growls, but I am only vaguely aware of his words. His penis feels hard and soft at the same time the fullness is incredible.

'Say it!'He grunts again.

'Yours.' I moan going out of my mind with all these sensations.

'That's right. Mine!'

He moves out again and slowly pushes back in establishing a slow rhythm. His finger strokes my clit. The pleasure is sensational. He pulls out of me again before slamming his cock in harder making me cry out. His rhythm changes moving in and out of me faster and deeper. He moans low in his throat, His rhythm is punishing brutal even a myriad of titillating emotions washes over me, and I explode around him. He shudders and grunts.

'Oh, Anastasia.' He cries out, and I feel his cum inside of me. He stills and collapses on me desperately kissing my neck and collarbone. His skin feels sweaty and warm, and his musky scent fills my nostrils. The weight of his body is slowly suffocating me and his panting heavily. My arms feel heavy from being tied up, and I cannot push him of me.

'Mine, mine, mine.' It is like a mantra spilling from his lips.

'Christian, please you are squashing me.' He looks up his eyes are glazed over, and there is an expression of undiluted joy on his face.

He slowly slides out of me and releases me from the restraints. Gently rubbing my arms before sliding off me.

'Don't ever leave Anastasia. I don't think I can ever let you go.' He looks at me earnestly. All my fear and anxieties come back with a vengeance, and once again I am left to wonder if he will really let me go when our agreement is over.