Economics
A couple weeks passed, and all seemed to being going well with Larron, Christian's newly-found birth father. At least business-wise. Christian quickly discovered that Larron's work ethic lived up to all of the man's talk; he was an effective and shrewd businessman. Christian had selected five of the economically failing manufacturing plants that Larron's charity worked with, and GEH's mergers and acquisitions department was in the process of restructuring them and integrating them into GEH's network. Larron's connections were as good as he'd promised, and it looked like it was going to be a highly profitable venture in spite of the fact that the contract they'd drawn up afforded thirty percent of the profits to Larron's charity in order to aid the unemployed and homeless.
Things with Anastasia were, surprisingly, going just as smoothly. She'd moved to Seattle and was living with Kate in the Pike Market District. Christian had surveyed the area himself and was satisfied with the safety of the area, and as Ana had pointed out multiple times, it was economical — Kate's parents were helping them afford the place and her rent was, as a result, low.
"You, of all people," Anastasia insisted on a lazy Sunday afternoon, when he broached the subject while they watched Mrs. Jones preparing brunch, "should appreciate that living with Kate is just good economics. I don't see why you have an objection to it."
Christian pursed his lips and shook his head, trying not to be distracted by her creamy-white bare leg swinging back and forth from her perch on a kitchen bar stool. She was wearing nothing but one of his shirts — apparently her preferred form of pajamas — and Christian was shirtless and dressed in gray sweatpants. "My dear Miss Steele," he murmured, trying for his most seductive voice, as it was his best bet at persuading her, "I suspect you're not being entirely honest with me. If paying the bills is really what this is about, then it would be just as economical to stay here. With me." He reached over and laid his hand on her knee, stilling her leg as it swung languidly to and fro.
Her big, blue eyes flashed from his hand up to his face, and Christian could sense more than hear her soft intake of breath as he crept his fingers slowly up her thigh, underneath the hem of his linen shirt. "Your cost of living is higher than mine," she murmured, sounded distracted and breathy.
He smirked at the pitch of her voice, using his long fingers to spread and coax in between her legs. "I never would have guessed that the thought of rent and electricity and water bills would get your panties in such a twist, Miss Steele." He leaned forward, his elbow on the breakfast bar and his chin in his hand, stroking the index finger of his free hand across his lips contemplatively. "Truthfully, Ana, why won't you move in with me?"
She frustratingly gave away nothing except a soft moan at the ministrations that his hand were providing. His hand stilled on her thigh — he wanted a real answer and he wanted her to focus on giving him one.
"Anastasia. My cost of living has no bearing on the matter, you know well that I would not expect or allow you to pay rent." His tone was firmer now, more insistent.
"Exactly," she mumbled.
"Exactly what?" he pressed, removing his hand completely as Mrs. Jones laid their bunch out on the breakfast bar. "Eat," he added as an afterthought. It had become second nature with him to remind her to feed herself properly.
"Exactly, you won't let me pay rent and you know that I wouldn't be able to afford it anyway," she mumbled, and Christian wasn't entirely certain whether her obstinate tone was due to the conversation or the end of his teasing under her shirt.
"Do not tell me that the reason I am deprived of your presence during the week is over something as petty as money," he growled at her only half playfully, tucking into his meal of eggs benedict and grilled asparagus.
"And that," she said, pointing her fork at him as she stabbed at a spear of asparagus, "is exactly what I mean. Money isn't petty to some people. I haven't done anything to earn any of this."
"Oh, but that is where we disagree. You give me pleasure, Anastasia, that's enough to earn it."
"No!" she said, her cheeks blazing and her eyes snapping at him. Christian sat back, taken completely by surprise by her… Anger? Frustration? What is the girl thinking? It seemed that her mind would never be clear to him — he'd paid her a compliment and now she was looking at him as if it had been an insult.
"What did I say?" His confusion must have been evident in his voice, because Ana's face softened infinitesimally.
"You seriously don't know?"
His patience wore thin under the aggravation of her tone, a tone that no woman had ever dared direct toward him before. "Miss Steele, do I appear to you to be a man who enjoys playing the fool? No. I seriously do not know."
She looked at him incredulously, as if he was the fool. "You're saying that I've earned living in your ridiculously overwrought ivory tower just because I'm fucking you? People will think I'm a— a—" she stammered, evidently at a loss for an offensive enough word. "A gold digger! A whore! And they'll be right, because that's apparently what you think too!"
Christian was out of his seat the moment that the word "whore" was out of her mouth, and her rant ended on a somewhat lackluster note as far as enthusiasm went, while Ana looked at him warily, taking her turn to be taken aback. For several moments he was quiet, pacing the kitchen.
"What?" Ana demanded. When he didn't reply, she asked again, more worriedly this time, "What? Christian, what did I say?"
"I make you feel that I treat you like a whore?" he said finally, turning to face her with both his hands in his hair, his jaw working in frustration.
Anastasia, if possible, paled and looked even more surprised. The girl is utterly unpredictable.
"Well… no," she said finally, audibly subdued compared to her outburst although frustration was still present under a layer of what sounded like confusion. "You don't treat me like a whore, you just want to… give me nice things, I guess." She sounded like a child who'd been caught saying a naughty word and was being asked to apologize now. Christian had to admit that he liked the submission in her tone and the way that her eyes cast respectfully downwards. Something deep in his belly yearned to see that in the playroom, but for now there were more pressing things at hand.
"Then why, for Christ's sake, Anastasia, did you just use that word to describe yourself?"
"Because that's what people will think! And that's what you said yourself, I deserve to be here because I give you pleasure."
Everything clicked into place abruptly, and Christian rolled his eyes, coming back around to her side of the breakfast bar to grasp her chin firmly in his fingertips and make her look up at him. "Anastasia. Yes, you give me immense sexual pleasure." He paused when she scowled deeply and struggled to keep a straight face at her outrage. "Try to put a more savory expression on your face, Miss Steele, I don't want you getting premature wrinkles. You give me immense sexual pleasure, however, what I meant by my comment earlier was that you give me existential, mental, spiritual pleasure as well. You are far from being a woman of the night and I will not tolerate hearing you refer to yourself as one in any way, shape, or form ever again. Are we clear?"
Ana's large, blue eyes blinked once, twice, as she seemed to absorb his words, and then she nodded as she looked at him with heated passion. "Yes, Mr. Grey," she murmured, obviously quite pleased herself at the reassurance. It hadn't occurred to Christian before this moment that he might give her such reassurance more often. To him it was so plain by now that he wanted her for much more than her beautiful body.
His hands moved down to her knees, gripping them and spreading them apart so that he could move closer, and his fingers began traveling up her thighs yet again. Ana inhaled softly, and he looked down at her parted lips, leaning down to kiss her hard and then bite and tug gently on her plump, pink, lower lip. "Wrinkles, huh?" Ana teased, a playful expression flitting across her face as he pulled back, massaging her legs with his hands and inching toward her inner thighs. "So that's what you're worried about."
"I am worried about many things where you are concerned, Miss Steele," he murmured in a low, velvety voice. "Wrinkles are low on the list."
She seemed like she was going to inquire more about that — and he was intending to silence her with another kiss — when there was a knock on the door, preventing both from happening. Christian growled low under his breath; he hated being interrupted. Especially in moments like this.
"Taylor will attend to it," he muttered low, under his breath, his hands moving around to her round, perky butt and lifting her, Ana automatically wrapping her legs around his waist. "I have plans for you." This, finally, was the opportunity he had been waiting for to take Ana to the playroom. The combination of her flare of anger at him and then her contrition afterwards was more than he could resist; he wanted to go further in taming and controlling her more belligerent emotions. And he was confident that he would not scare her if this happened right now — she was happy and carefree and teasing him about wrinkles. It was not like the other times in the past few weeks when she had pushed too hard about subjects such as Elena or his personal business and made him want to punish and curb her invasion of his boundaries.
"Mr. Grey," Taylor's voice interrupted his planning and anticipation as he carried Ana towards the staircase, "there is someone here for you."
"Tell them I'm occupied," Christian growled, his lips on Ana's neck.
"I don't think that's—"
Before Taylor could finish his sentence, a female voice sounded from the foyer outside— "Christian!" —and a petite, dark haired ball of bouncing energy bounded into his apartment. Mia.
A/N: I know a lot of you have been wondering if I've abandoned/finished this story... the answer is no! College life and personal life have overwhelmed me (I'm graduating this spring and I was only a senior in high school when I started this story), but I'm still planning on continuing when my life permits me to. I'll update as soon as I can, and until then, thank you for reading! Please review!
