Foreshadow
The press conference was an utter disaster.
"It was shit! I lost it with them, so now they're going to print more lies about me. On top of that, some sick-fuck will take advantage of this downturn to spread lies about my company. I've done more destruction than construction."
Christian was now pacing the length of the hotel room near Anastasia's maternal grandparents' house in Brighton. They had departed in the afternoon right after he landed in London in a rental car that she rented for her duration in England. It was only a two hour drive. He was slightly jet lagged, but all sleepiness vanished the moment he was asked about the press conference aired only two days ago. They were going to her grandparents' place for a casual dinner before they return to spend tomorrow night alone. Her parents were hosting the night and her grandparents tomorrow night; that was almost a tradition in her family.
"Can't Sam do something to alter the story? Press reports are all about perspectives. If you want to sway your reader in one direction, use the words to get them to see your reason," she paraphrased the few knowledge tips Kate had taught her throughout their friendship.
"That entire thing had been counterproductive," he continued to pace, determined to end up on the floor below with a whole in their room. She sighed, obviously her expected job at the moment was to listen to his vent and only offer silent support. "Now that everyone seemed to be under the impression that the Grey family is a bunch of phony wannabes. Then, none of them will be willing to do business with me."
She watched him pull at his hair, scream into the pillow, and pace the length helplessly.
And, now, he had slumped down in an arm chair totally defeated.
"Maybe you should take some time off? Travel and destress," she suggested softly. It was hard not to scold him for jumping to the worst conclusion, but she had managed when she reminded herself that he had been under a lot of pressure lately and he probably didn't need her to sound unsupportive.
The news weren't all negative, in fact, several notable individuals, organizations, and companies had stood up in his defense. Even some with influence come out to express their extreme disdain to the way the press had illustrated his character and defended the alternative lifestyle. Christian was just too narrow-focused at the moment in his girlfriend's opinion.
"And, watch my company crumble to dust?" He retorted sarcastically.
"I'll be here," Anastasia assured him, confident that she would have the ability to juggle both her own and his work.
"Tiring you out while I'm out on some fucking vacation? No thanks, that's like meeting some chick at a beach while your wife's pregnant at home keeping your shit together," he spat sneeringly. His words weren't hateful to be exact, but the way he said it still made her feel like utter shit. "I'm not treating you like that."
"You do need a break, Christian," she reasoned gently.
"I also really do need you," he countered. "I wouldn't think for one second that I'd have the ability to persuade you to take days off. Look at how busy you are already."
"Christian," she wanted to point out to him that he wasn't viewing the consequences post-press conference in an objective manner; but she refrained not wanting to add fuel to the flame since he had heard this phrase from Flynn way too often. "It's not about burdening me, it's about you. You need a time away from all this mess."
"Then what about you?" His tone was getting defensive which bemused her. "You've been in all of this since you met me, and at least I got a break when I was in intensive therapy."
"I am doing fine."
"You just ignore whatever you don't want to face. You need the break more than I do."
"I wasn't the one subjected to public scrutiny under their watchful eyes."
Christian shook his head in disagreement and broke eye contact before this could escalate into an argument. It all started out with each other's best interest, yet it now appeared like they were both too stubborn to admit that they were human.
"We never got around the conversation about you working too hard," he brought it on to the table hoping she wasn't going to pick a fight with him. They were due to her grandparents' house in a few hours, and he was sleep deprived. He was hoping to get all the talks out of the way and take a power nap with her.
"What about it? I worked hard and got a promotion."
"You slave yourself to your work. You work as if I don't have a job."
"I do have bills to pay."
"I've also told you that you don't need to pay them."
"I spend your money, live in your house, use your jet," she rattled off ticking off a finger with each item on the list. "What exactly am I contributing? You said you don't feel obliged to take care of me, and you want us to be a normal couple, so why can't you stick to our initial agreement? You are already responsible for the large expenditures, besides I also have to support my parents. I just spent two thousand dollars on clothes, which are your money. I am only doing my job as a doctor."
"You didn't have to work so hard that you exhaust yourself. You could be doing something you like, like researching, and balance it with your clinical duty. Won't that be more comfortable?"
"You know there's still the bills from my parents? The military pension only covers so much. Nothing is comfortable when it comes to earning money, Christian. That isn't even your case. I get home at a reasonable hour and don't have to work night shifts in the ER, that is already a privilege that not many doctors my age can have. So don't throw all that macho crap at me."
He stared at her form perched on the edge of the bed directly in front of him, their unpacked luggage still near the door, he could see the weariness in her and the exhaustion and fatigue that had never seemed to be far away. His heart ached at the sight. He could see how hard she was trying and how hard she worked, and he couldn't be prouder and happier when she got promoted; she truly deserved it, and that wasn't because of the rose-tinted glasses he wore whenever he look at her.
Instead of letting his feeling reach out to her, he stood up and sat down next to her on the bed. Unexpectedly, she leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder and his arms instinctively went around her body; encasing her.
"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered in her hair. "I didn't mean to give you the impression that I want you out of the hospital. I just want you to take care of yourself. It is after all, my problem that I fell in love with a medical professional."
She cracked a smile at his last sentence. She had thought she'd be the one to use it, given that he had been busier than her when they first started dating. Suddenly, she groaned and attempted to wriggle out of his embrace.
"I'm starting to loath the sound of a cellphone," she lamented as she dragged her feet to their bags and dug out her almost dead phone. "Hi Gail," she answered, returning to Christian's side, the latter cocked his head at the identity of the caller.
While he would love to eavesdrop, especially since Anastasia's expression turned grim and rather concerned, his phone interrupted him just when he heard the words 'Taco' and 'vet' in one sentence.
Christian frowned at the caller ID but still took the call. He discretely left the room so their voices wouldn't get mixed up. He would have to ask what happened with Taco later.
"Mia, what's up?" Suppressing the urge to tell her off, he maintained a controlled tone.
"Your press conference was all over Seattle News and National TV."
"I am aware of it. I was warned that it would be considered as the release of the year or something along the line."
"With the way you responded to the questions, of course it is the interview of the year."
"Those questions were way too intrusive, so I lost it," he defended.
"They were," she assented. "And, do you know that our parents secretly went to Elena's funeral?"
"They did?" He inquired flatly, he couldn't care less. He was informed of the event and also the attempts the three crazy subs had made to tip the local media off regarding it just to spite him only to be turned away because their content wasn't all that valuable.
"And, rumor has it that you plan to make an appearance at your supposed alma mater?"
"That's hearsay," he responded, though it was on one of his agenda for the next year to return to Harvard Business School. He literally was at the very beginning of his career, and he couldn't afford to be aloof and arrogant like he used to. He needed to socialize and put himself out there. "Don't tell me you actually believed it."
"Which is why I'm asking for confirmation."
"Well, I'm not sure. I just got to England so I haven't checked anything. Maybe I got an e-invite."
"By the way," and he knew she was going to start another topic in true Mia-style. "I don't think you know, but Elliot didn't tell you the real reason why he got drunk that night. You know, the night before Ana's birthday that led to the scandalous news articles months later."
"He had been setup. Should be enough to warn him to keep his secrets better. There was no way I was going to risk my still un-solidified reputation in the society to help him get his cards and cash back."
"That sounds selfish and cold-hearted but that's not the point." For once, he was glad that she was able to focus on the right thing. "Our parents tried to coerce him into attending Elena's funeral, in the name of saying goodbye to the past and finally laying it to rest. They even called her an old friend. The nerve of them!"
"What a bunch of delusional pricks," he snorted, he didn't even need to ask Mia to deduce that he had probably spilled his guts to her on the way over to his house, and she didn't get the chance to provide additional information that day. "Did they also call you?"
"They did, but I was more direct that Elliot in rejecting them. They called me a whole string of names."
"I'm sorry, Mia. I knew Elliot was withholding something during the sessions."
"Honestly, brother, I don't see the point of the so-called bonding sessions. Did you not feel the tension and awkwardness when the three of us hung out together that Saturday in the name of bonding and preparing for Ana's birthday?"
He sighed heavily—guess he wasn't the only one with that feeling. Maybe it was just Elliot that was pretending. The only difference was now that he could no longer pretend everything was fine, because the press had once again, unveiled the ugly truth and threw dirt on everyone's name.
They talked some more and after they hang up, he checked for new emails and messages as he made his way back to the bedroom where Anastasia had now moved to the center of the large bed sitting cross legged. She was also looking at her phone, scrolling and typing intently.
"Christian," she said without glancing up, and it made him believe that the electric current they felt whenever each other was present in the same capacity was real. "Do you have anything on Saturday morning next week? So, the week I return from London and before I head to Congo."
"No," he was always either working or spending time with Taco on that day as she worked. "Why?"
"There's a celebration hosted by Northwest, and all of the executives and the board will attend. It is a little heavy on the politics, but still good network in Seattle. Do you want to go?"
He pursed his lips, there was definitely an advantage but the cons were also painfully obvious—politics. That had always been a touchy subject, everywhere.
"I'm back in the middle of next week, so you still have time to decide, there's no RSPV required. I'm invited."
"I'll think about it, and speaking of next week, I forgot to tell you something," he peered down at the reminder on his phone. "there's a magazine cover photoshoot next Friday."
"Okay, what for?"
"We kind of took the spotlight since the beginning of this year, and a few business magazines and entertainment entities has reached out asking for cover interviews."
"What's your decision?"
"Maybe we should take it? What do you think?"
"Two social events already squashed into our tight end of year schedule," she nibbled her lip pondering the practicability. "It's plausible."
"But?"
"There's no but, it's entirely up to you," she decided after a moment of thinking.
"Maybe we should do the photoshoot."
"Okay, then we're going to both. If this is going to help get us back on our feet then why not? The sooner we're back to our previous social status without the sabotage from the media, the less of those functions we have to attend."
He nodded in agreement, letting her reasoning sink in deeper. He accepted it but that didn't mean that he liked it. The end of the year celebration sounded like too much of a challenge.
"Gail called?" He asked, still reeling in the realization that he had to make public appearances and network till the end of the year; and, here he thought he could have a peaceful recovery after everything.
Anastasia yelped and curled up against the headboard when she saw Christian throwing himself on the bed face down, completely taking up the entire mattress with his stretchy limbs. She stared at him incredulously and amusedly. That was obviously not him, but it wasn't far from the man she knew in person at the same time. Deep down, she had always thought he was a goofball, but she couldn't be a hundred percent certain so she went with pretty boy.
"I hate balls," he screamed into the comforter and pounded his fist against te pillows.
She suppressed a laughter but failed to stifle her giggles. That phrase reminded her of two completely different scenarios.
"I like yours, though," that was probably the lamest sex joke ever made but she couldn't help it. "Do you want to know what Gail said?" Steering their conversation back to the original topic as she extended a leg to rub his back from his shoulder blades.
He made a few nodding movements with his head but remained in the same posture, so she assumed he was listening.
"Gail said someone poisoned Tucks," she relayed the message in the most simplistic and direct manner; but there was more to the story. "Taylor went to walk the dog with her as always," she continued while watching him shot right up into a seating position.
Taco was precious to him, but he knew it was more precious to his girlfriend, so if something happened to the dog, Anastasia would be devastated and he couldn't bear to see her like that.
"He and Gail both saw a woman, one of the wannabe blondes, toss something to the ground just on Taco's path. He ate it, despite Gail's attempt to stop him. He seemed fine all day, but Taylor was suspicious while Gail wanted to observe. In the end, Taylor won and they took him to the vet. She was calling on their way over, and also to charge it to my bill, which is now linked to your card."
"At least he doesn't have any symptoms, yet."
"No, and I believe he'll be fine."
He watched her and listened to her tone of voice as he debated whether to suggest they fly home. He would've already called to have the jet ready if it wasn't for the fact that they kind of both needed the time away from the States.
"We all know who the culprit is, and Taylor said whichever the three it was, they were going to face up to five years of imprisonment."
"But that won't push the court to set a time for the trial."
"I think they are waiting for more evidence to be submitted. The animal cruelty offense probably isn't nearly enough and convincing."
He groaned into his hands and laid back down. They were helpless from across the ocean anyway, so he chanted to himself to remain calm like his girl.
"Now, what was your call about?" She tickled his side with her toes as she switched to hug her legs and rest her chin atop of her knees.
"Mia called to tell me that my parents went to Elena's funeral discretely and they had tried to force Elliot into going. Just the same old delusional bullshit that never changes."
"Elena's funeral? She had a funeral?" Of course that was all she was focused on. "Why wasn't I invited?"
"Yes, it was just around your birthday, I can't remember which exactly."
"You knew? And you didn't tell me?"
"I didn't know you were into this kind of gossip," he turned his head to the side to meet her gaze and smirked at her lazily. It was still sexy to her. "Don't roll your eyes at me."
"Or what, are you going to spank me?"
"Are you going to let me?" He leaned to his side and propped his head up on his elbow.
"Maybe," she shrugged noncommittally and casually picked up his phone. "You've got the interview questions, already?" She looked up and crawled toward his laying figure in response to his open-arm invitation. She held the display between them and he had his head resting on her shoulder and his legs tangled with hers; he wanted her so bad that he was seriously considering begging . He needed to use this vacation—to him at least, as she had to return to London tomorrow for the conference—to convince her to add sexual activities to their daily routine.
"I want you," he murmured, completely disregarding the set of questions they were supposed to go over; it was already the censored version from Sam.
He felt her apprehension coursing through her body so he didn't press any further by starting to beg like he had desperately wanted to as he clung onto her.
"Give me a few more days to get used to the IUD," she requested. He opened his mouth wanting to protest but she read him. "I'm on my period, and now I've got cramps that I didn't have before."
"You didn't get the copper one?"
"I'm not even going to ask how you knew there are two types, but no, I didn't. I kind of want to have less flow but still have my periods."
"I also know your mensural cycle," he showed off, effectively earning a glare. "Okay, I'll behave," he chortled. "Do you have any other discomforts?" He really just wanted her to feel better so they could test the effectiveness of the birth control. Personally, he preferred the Depo shot, but he wouldn't get anywhere by trying to dictate what method she should use; other than getting yelled at for being suffocating and controlling.
She shook her head and tapped his phone awake to check the time. They should get ready to surprise her grandparents, who hadn't seen her for more than a couple of years, in a few hours. They could get a few hours of sleep in first just to catch up on the sleep-loss.
…
"Gail said they had Taco's stomach pumped and identified the poison as the kind that kiss rodents."
"And, Taylor said a warrant has been issued for Susannah and Leila's arrest."
"What about the third girl? What's her name?" She looked away from her phone after typing a reply to Gail, and he did the same to Taylor, then the two of them dragged themselves out of bed to really start preparing to crash the pre-Thanksgiving party.
"Susannah was charged with animal cruelty, Leila with vandalizing my car, and hopefully Burt can convince the judge to decide a date."
"Yeah, yeah…" she brushed off his additional comment wanting him to listen to her question and actually answer it. "Who's the third girl? What's her name again? I bet she's also dyed her hair blonde and did something with her appearance."
"Rebecca," he supplied unwillingly.
"Right, the escort."
He halted his action in rummaging through his duffle bag for an appropriate outfit and turned around to stare at her incredulously, but she wasn't paying him any attention so he resumed his search.
What does one wear to their girlfriend's maternal grandparents' casual pre-Thanksgiving dinner?
He turned around again with the goal of seeking her advice but his question was caught in his throat when he saw her bare backside protruding in his direction in a tiny thong. She was pulling the ankle length skirt that was currently polled at her feet up to cover her ass. He had never seen her wear that skirt before even though he had probably seen them in their closet at home. She rarely like to wear dresses in general, and unless they were going to a formal event, he could almost never convince her to wear a dress on a casual occasion. He idly wondered what she bought with Kate because she did spend two-thousand dollars, but only came home with a few bags.
"You're staring, Mr Grey," she stated without turning back. She was now adjusting the waist of the skirt, it seemed to be a little loose, so she tucked her sweater inside. It didn't look too awkward. "I can feel you burning a hole into my ass with your salacious glare."
He was distracted from her earlier comment, clearly, and now the skirt not only roused his penis but also aroused the desire to take her shopping on Black Friday; for the said of gaining the whole Black Friday shopping spree experience.
"Do I get a time frame to work with?" He blurted out, he was talking about sex but she didn't catch on.
"What?"
He gestured his very prominent erection when she finally turned around and gave her a knowing smirk.
"Oh," she returned to finished dressing. "December."
"Next week?" He beamed in faux excitement.
"No, maybe before the end of the year."
He gaped at her back, utter speechless. That rather was a hopeless empty promise than a time frame to him, it was too uncertain.
"Come on, let's go. Assuming you are dressed since you haven't been doing much since your eyes found my bare ass."
"I'm not, actually," he confessed, and this made her spun around sharply to find him still in the outfit that he was previously in. "I was going to ask you what to wear because I can't decide, then I turn around and was met with your ass."
She raised an eyebrow at his rather crass comment but let it slide when he didn't back down. She held out her hand, and commanded, "bag."
He obediently zipped his duffle bag and tossed it to her after she set her leather jacket aside.
"You packed your own bag didn't you?"
He shrugged at her question seeing that she still had her face inside the bag and was literally speaking into it.
"You have a pair khaki pants? I've never seen you in them," she held out a pair of said trousers and tossed it to her side.
Guess that was going to part of his outfit tonight.
"You have flannel shirts? Did you, like, just bought these?" She finally peered up at him as she pulled out the items.
"There wasn't any occasion for me to wear those," he explained.
"Really," she hummed.
"I would let you manage my wardrobe but I'm sure you don't want to dress me everyday."
"No, I don't. Still, you have clothes that you don't even wear."
"Because they aren't the ones that I bought myself."
"So you don't like them?"
"Well, not that…"
"No occasion. Christian, you have to start coming up with more nuanced excuses."
"Mia bought me that flannel shirt and Elliot got me that khaki pants because he was getting himself a pair."
"How nice of your siblings," she complimented making him roll his eyes. "Did you bring another pair of shoes?"
"Just my trainers," he nodded to the bag in her lap. She moved the bag slightly to check the pair that was on his feet. They would suffice. Very little people focus on footwear anyway.
"I can't believe that you actually didn't bring a black sweater," she was ready to dump every content in his bag, sans toiletry bag, onto the bed when he confirmed it. "I bought you a black one in London earlier, it's in my suitcase."
"You bought me clothes?" He trudged over to said luggage and zipped it open. "Did you bring everything with you?"
"No, the suitcase is empty but I thought I'd bring it with me since I assumed that you'd be flying back soon, and just in case I forgot. Besides, if you didn't like it I would've still have the chance to return it."
"This one?" He held up a pure black wool sweater, it was soft and comfortable, and still with the label dangling at the collar. She nodded. "It's not bad."
"Not bad?" She screeched. "This thing isn't cheap, gentleman!"
"Well, you do have my card."
"I used my own!"
He still shrugged. They weren't so strict with wealth possession now in comparison to when they first got back together.
"You want me to wear the flannel shirt beneath this?"
"Yeah," she nodded. "What's wrong with that?"
"I've never done that before."
She shrugged, unfazed.
He breathed out heavily, trudging back to the bed to pick up the clothes that she had picked out for him. It wasn't at all his style but probably every other normal men's. His casual was more like a suit without a tie, a dress shirt without all the buttons buttoned up and the sleeves rolled up.
She sat on the bed with her jacket and purse in hand, and watched him get changed.
…
"We're walking over," she told them as soon as they stepped out into the darkness of Brighton. He peeked down and saw that she was wearing flats, which made him wonder if she'd actually get cold. However, the more pressing issue was that he was in his dress shoes.
How convenient for her.
"When are you flying back?" She asked as they walked side by side down into the quiet neighborhood to their destination.
"With you," hopefully, he quipped simplistically.
"That's going to be a week later," she exclaimed, staring at him as she walked sideways.
"I know, and I can network here while you're at your conference or plan how we're going to spend tomorrow night. It's rare to see Ros so willingly let me out of Seattle, especially when we're negotiating a deal with a potential sponsor."
"So, you can drive us back tomorrow, right?"
"Is that why you asked for my schedule?" He narrowed his eyes at her playfully. "Why, are you going to get drunk and sleep until the afternoon?"
"I plan on getting drunk, but not too much to have a hangover. However, we need to leave early tomorrow for my conference."
"Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, are you sure you need to work?"
"For the morning, yes. I have the day off on Friday. We could even come back for Thanksgiving and stay at my grandparents' house if you want. My cousin is leaving tomorrow, so the guest room will be free, which is also part of the reason why we're having this dinner tonight."
"Okay, I'll drive you back tomorrow morning. Then, I'm taking you shopping on Black Friday."
"Are you jet-lagged?" She suddenly remembered that he just arrived today and still needed to adjust to the time zone.
"Believe me, I'm not living in any time zone for the past week."
"Oh," her shoulders slumped in sympathy. "I'll drive then, do you want to drink tonight?"
"I can drive. It's only a two-hour drive, it's okay. Besides, I can sleep once we're there. You still have the hotel room right?" She nodded. "Then I can nap tomorrow."
She didn't argue anymore, there was no use in insisting on who to drive fifty miles. She hadn't had the best sleep either but at least they weren't all plagued with nightmares like his nights; she just didn't sleep for too long or too well.
"Can I ask you something, Christian?" She stopped abruptly and asked suddenly, nearly making him walk over her. He thought they were close to her grandparents' house, since she said it was supposed to be really close.
"Yeah," he nodded dumbfounded, of course she could ask him anything. He would never deliberately hide anything from her.
"How did you know there were three women stalking me? I showed you hundreds of different faces."
"I knew because no matter how much you change your appearance, there are still small features that cannot be concealed completely," he admitted sheepishly. She didn't want to remind her that he once knew their bodies intimately like he knew hers.
From the change in demeanor, he knew that she was still reminded of it. He just hoped that she could make peace with it. He had been very patient with her and she had even confessed that she was battling with herself internally whenever he brought up or hinted about sex. He wanted her to see a therapist, and she had voiced that she'd consider it, but as it appeared, she never seemed to have the time or the energy.
That, perhaps was the tragedy of dating a doctor.
She slowly turned around and resumed walking, probably submerged in her own conflicting thoughts.
"We're here," she announced, suddenly forgetting all the discussions that they had on their way over.
His mind was still plagued with their dialogues and discoveries from Seattle. He didn't believe for once that an arrest warrant could stop the three crazy women from sabotaging his life like Elena did. Only this time, they weren't so successful with the press, and he's got nothing left to lose if he just guarded his empire and girlfriend.
Though, what was their endgame?
Thank you for reading and reviewing!
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