Truly a Coincidence

CHRISTMAS EVE 2016

Two days ago, Anastasia brought up Escala and the idea of moving back there, and Christian had been thinking about it ever since. Flynn had went on break, and he was determined to use this chance to communicate openly with his girlfriend. If he couldn't resolve the issues with his family, then he better work out his small family.

So, after a lazy brunch, they found themselves in the lobby of the Escala building with Taco on a leash by their side as they waited for the elevator. The doorman merely nodded at the giant pooch that technically wasn't allowed by management.

"Why are we here?" Anastasia repeated her question aloud, and her brain instantly felt at ease.

The three of them piled into the elevator and turned around to face the door just as it slid close. Taco stood in the middle of it as always. It almost felt like the very first time they were in this very elevator over four years ago.

"You said you wanted to come back," he stated simplistically.

"I sure did…" she said slowly still wondering why he would act on it. "I thought you would object," she continued awkwardly as if it truly was their very first encounter and her very first visit to his house.

He twisted his head to observe the side of her face; she refused to meet his gaze.

"I… did."

The hesitation in his voice now made her turn her head.

"You said that something was bothering you, and didn't want it to be carried to the next year, so I thought might as well get this over with."

"I did some thinking," she declared and he was going to make some witty comebacks when she spoke again. They needed to be serious now and stop getting distracted all the time because life wasn't always funny. "You've been busy working with Flynn to get over what had happened, and I have been busy trying to sweep everything under the rug and use work to cover it up. It worked for the both of us, but we've never done anything together to face those demons. Granted, I didn't want to think of the past incidents as something traumatic, I just wanted it to be over."

He wanted to tell her that she didn't have to act so strong and bottle everything up, because she would break herself eventually, and that was the last thing he wanted to witness. He just wanted her to let everything go in the most suitable way—a way that would ensure that she wouldn't be effected for the rest of her life.

"You want to see Flynn together?"

"That could be a solution."

"What do you have in mind then?"

"Maybe we could start with moving back? I'm lost; I don't have work to distract me."

That was the reason why he wanted her to seek professional help, because talking to someone really helped. Even if he didn't think he had anything to say and didn't want to admit that he was traumatic, the professional would be doing the talking and it would then trigger him to talk. He knew that because he had seen more than his fair share of therapists in his life.

"Perhaps it's time you seriously consider talking to someone? Maybe just one session?"

She shrugged, again. He hated that reaction from her, but he also didn't want to be too firm to make her felt like she was coerced into psychotherapy.

"What's there to talk about?"

He barely caught that question as the elevator announced their arrival and opened the door to the foyer. He thought she had dropped that topic already and wasn't going to talk about it anymore until he found some way to trigger it and bring it up again.

"Anything. It might help with the stress."

"I can always talk to you," she retorted.

"You can," and his heart swelled so much at that seemingly casual statement, and for a moment, he couldn't even come up with a sound argument.

"So, why do I have to talk to a professional to be exact?"

"Just… think about it," he settled with as they made their way deeper into the penthouse and Taco went exploring the second he was off the leash.

"I will, and I am."

"Okay, then that's all I ask for now."

Taco's barks were bringing back all kinds of memories for Anastasia. Taylor would've been equally traumatic had he accompanied the two of them and not given the days off for the holidays. Her gut instinct had told her exactly where Taco's location was, and she froze in her spot instantly.

Christian surfaced from the kitchen to catch her pale white face as if she had seen ghosts. He was just about to show her the rotten food in the fridge when she sauntered out of the kitchen soundlessly. So, he chased out just in time to observe her ashen face.

"The playroom," she whispered eerily quiet and her voice shook. Everything that she had swept under the rug had came flooding back.

He reached out to steady her as she took deep and calming breaths. She didn't even know that she was staggering because all she knew was that Taco hadn't stopped barking, and she had to move upstairs, because something was terribly wrong.

Her heart was thumping loudly and erratically in her ribcage but she still pushed him aside and headed upstairs despite his protests that fell deaf on her ears.

The door was thrown open, and Rebecca jumped accompanied by a yelp. Her hand flew to her chest to calm her racing heartbeat once she recognized that it was Susannah. One of her two roommates; the three of them had a joint account created by Elena where they had money deposited inside. She was about to resume her work at hand when she noticed something wasn't right.

"Did you go get another surgery?"

"No," Susannah brushed off Rebecca's accusing tone just like she did with the sweat beads on her forehead. "We don't have the budget for that anymore, remember?"

"That's why I asked. Where's Leila then? You two went out together."

Susannah shot her a look that said 'it was none of your goddamn business' and walked into the bathroom to freshen up. She was hoping that her appearance wouldn't give away what she had really been doing, but when she inspected herself in the mirror, she gasped.

"You said you went fucking didn't you?" Rebecca appeared at the doorway smirking at her sinisterly while her long fingernails tapped the wooden frame rhythmically. "How much did you earn?" She taunted with her chin held high knowing full well that Susannah hadn't been escorting like she said she did; she didn't even touch a man.

Susannah continued to remove her neat and perfectly tidied makeup that she thought was smeared by the sweat in silence.

"Who would've believed that there's a gala so early in the day. The ones that we are invited to always begin late in the afternoon or at night," Rebecca scoffed, calling her out. "You went through with that stupid plan of Leila's didn't you?"

"I saw them walking into the place when I left," Susannah told her defiantly.

"That's just pure coincident and luck. You don't know that they're going back to the penthouse today. Leila could've been dead and eroded and no one would know."

"Then that means Leila is connected to our Master on a deeper level than we are. At least more telepathic than we are."

"You're delusional, get some help," Rebecca rolled her eyes and left the bathroom.

"What are you up to then? You act like you've got an endgame planned out, guaranteed to succeed with the way you laughed at mine and Leila's plan, calling it lame. What, did you have it all figured out?" Susannah huffed, making her way to her friend after roughly splashing a few palm-full of water on her face, rinsing the residue of the makeup remover.

"I have sources, and you don't."

"Who, Rodriguez?" Susannah dismissed the smugness from Rebecca. "That queer doesn't know anything other than making his daddy look good and worship at his feet while spending his money without a blink of an eye."

"At least he talks. Your clients never talk business with you, much less about Master and his side chick. They're all too tight-lipped. Who's problem is that when you appear to be so dense-skulled and dumb, like a true blonde?"

"Grey still has the influence that he used to have, even after everything Mistress has put him through," Susannah sighed dreamily, letting out an airy smile.

"That's because that hooker chick of his tossed away her dignity and asked the Rodriguez for money," Rebecca corrected exasperatedly at the girl who appeared to still be on cloud nine. "We all know that Elena is nothing but a phony cunt with a few dollars to spare, so there's no use in dreaming about him. We either cripple him or we stir up shit in his life to make sure that he never forgets us; remembers the women that he had threw away after he had his fun with our hearts."

"You're right!" Susannah was snapped out of her haze and agreed indignantly.

"Rodriguez Senior is getting weaker—his days are numbered—and it's time we remind his limp-dick son that a certain Dr Steele would be the one that failed to save his beloved father. He will believe that the last time was just luck, and this doctor is fake."

"This will drive a rift between Rodriguez and Grey, as well as destroy her reputation, and we'll see how Master copes with the true multi-billionaire in the country."

Christian stared at the scene before him, mouth agape. There was nothing sexually appealing about what he was seeing, and he found it revolting that he actually thought of this room and everything that occurred here his safe haven.

Heaven forbid, he must be having a nightmare right now.

This was not what he had in mind when he decided to take her back here. Moreover, he at least should've still had someone swept the place and act more vigilantly.

Their Christmas might as well be ruined just like their entire year.

Anastasia stepped into the room slowly, and registered her surrounding. It all felt so familiar, only this time, the lights were all on, the woman was naked, and the room was wrecked. Her brain stopped functioning, and she felt like she could pass out from her rapid heartbeat, but somehow, her facial expression and her exterior had remained numbly calm. Her interior was in utter chaos in the meantime.

Bending down, she picked up the riding crop at the foot of the suspended woman, who had her wrists bound together and hung from the suspension grid, which was stuck to the ceiling. Her feet were off the ground, her head hung unconsciously, and her hands were already turning purple.

The sole indication that she was still alive was the steady and peaceful rise and fall of her chest. Her breathing was shallow, but it was still present.

On her body, there were several marks imprinted by the very crop now in Anastasia's hand.

Christian held his breath tightly the moment his eyes followed her movements to pick up the instrument. He instantly identified it as his favorite crop, known to all of his previous subs.

He watched Anastasia, his own sweet loving girlfriend, raise the crop with a pair of hollow eyes and swatted at the body in suspension. The whip sliced through the air and sunk into her flesh briskly, leaving a fresh trail of redness in its wake.

He gasped at the contact as well as the action. There was nothing arousing about it, in fact, the longer he witnessed the motion being repeated, the sicker he felt as the belt bit into her mid-section; wrapping around the body only to loosen and come around again at a different part.

Until he lurched forward retching, adding to the continuous cacophony from the belt, did he truly realize just how affected and disturbed his lover had been in the mind.

He had been too lenient lately and it wasn't helping her in the least.

Silence ensued the room, and Taco was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he had left the room after sensing the atmosphere growing heavier and heavier once his two owners showed up. He was currently curled up at the foot of the bed in the master bedroom. It still had his scent mixed with his owners, which offered him comfort.

He sighed and shuffled his chin so they were now rested atop of the tip of his front paws. His eyes barely opened but his ears were shifting back and fro trying to catch any abnormal sound, or that someone might be in distress. He didn't feel very secure at the moment, but no one was here to offer him support. So, he kept his eyes at the door.

"Ana!" Christian shouted, effectively breaking the trance that Anastasia was in. Her head turned to him sharply, and for a split second, all he could see was the emptiness on her face, and the pair of hollow blue eyes that were void of everything.

She quashed the demon in her and the human form returned, at least her eyes had shown some life in them. The harsh instrument dropped from her grasp landing on the floor making a series of noises as the plastic handle touched the polished wooden ground.

When his eyes refocused, he shook out the fear inside of him and took a better look at the woman standing in the middle of the room who now appeared everything like a Domme sans the appropriate getup. The bright light shone on to the walls reflected onto her face, the tear stains catching light and shimmered under the beams. Fresh droplets were rolling out of her eye sockets and moving down her cheeks, following the trails of the stains, ending up on the ground like the previous.

"I'm fine," she said in a calm and even tone. It was as if nothing happened, and she wasn't the one that just whipped a corpse.

He gradually regained his composure and recognized that her body had betrayed her voice—she was shaking. Her eyes were still trained on the thoroughly whipped nude form swinging slightly at the anchor. There was nothing readable on her face, nor in her eyes; she was expressionless.

In a few quick and powerful strides, he was by her side pulling her into his chest.

The dam broke.

Her body shook violently along with her shoulders. There was no additional sound other than her hushed and muffled sniffles. He held her tighter and her cries got worse.

They were soundless, but he could feel her whimpers and sobs even if they weren't physically audible. This was all the emotion pent-up in her and the feelings she forced herself to sweep under the rug without formal process.

It was the bursting of the bitter pills that she coerced down her throat without proper digestion.

And now, it was acting up.

The floodgate didn't open solely due to the explosion of the squashed emotions, but also because of the realization of what she'd just done' it had shook her to the core, to the extent that she could barely recognize herself. Even she was fearing for her mental wellbeing.

He quickly shot a text to Taylor and resumed putting his focus on soothing her. He knew he couldn't let the terrified feeling shown, because she was prone to panic even more once she felt his anxiousness.

He channeled his CEO persona, which wasn't really as tough as he used to be. He had completely opened himself up to her, and there was nothing in between them. If she was hurting like right now, he couldn't help but feel the anxiety that he had only felt once when he watched his empire crumble at the hands of TMZ—or the press in general—and Elena Lincoln.

"Baby," he crooned against her crown as he felt her breathing evened out.

"I'm okay," she took a deep, shaky breath and attempted to pull away from him, but he was hesitant on letting her go. "No, I'm really fine, Christian."

Taylor's entrance caught Taco's attention, and he got up from his spot in the master's bedroom to join him at the foyer. The man was slightly surprised at the hound's sudden appearance but made no comment, rather he simply greeted the pup with a pat on his head.

He entered the playroom following the trial that he had taken so many times in the past—none for a remotely pleasant let alone delightful reason. Upon briefly scanning the room for hidden potential threats like he understandably missed last time, he gasped horrified at the scene before him; even as an ex-military, it was magnificently disturbing.

Schooling in his facial expression and emotion, he took a step forward prepared to clear her throat to announce his arrival, but Taco beat him to it with his panting breaths. The pooch stood stock still next to the military man apprehensively. His innocent and gullible brown eyes stared at his owners in the middle of the room still in a tight embrace, a well beaten flesh hand stopped moving next to them.

"Don't call the police," Christian loosened his grip around Anastasia when Taco's nails on the floor as he walked and his slight panting attracted their full attention. She took this time to step away and disentangled herself from him. She patted down her clothes, smoothing the wrinkles and wiped her eyes discretely, careful of her makeup; trying to appear normal and not like someone who had just cried till her heart was content.

"Sir," Taylor gestured to the nude form hung from the ceiling.

"Make it look like she trespassed and that's it. Wipe out evidence that we," pointing to himself and Anastasia, "were ever here. Get whoever to help you," that was the hint to employ Welch, Barney, Sawyer, and maybe Burt to get this done.

It was fact that she had trespassed but the rest shouldn't be included.

Taylor nodded, he could sense downheartedness from the couple for ruining his, and many more people's Christmas Eve, but they also understood that the couple would be more disturbed that them. At least he and the guys knew what they signed up for when they chose to stick by Grey in his darkest times. Grey on the other hand, knew nothing about what to anticipate in life because problems find him just like God laughed at plans humans made.

Never in a million years would he thought that he would allow her to just brush off what had happened earlier in the penthouse just because she was feeling better now.

The old him would definitely dismiss her reasoning that it was Christmas and no one should be working. He would shot back and remind her that he paid Flynn a hefty amount to be on his beck and call; for sure. He would demand that she talk to Flynn directly no matter how considerate she wanted to be for the good doctor and his family. The charity gala that they were attending was definitely out of the question if his old self surfaced.

Ironically, he was in their closet looking for an appropriate outfit for the gathering.

"Wear the face mask or don't go at all, Christian." Anastasia stalked up to him angrily, this was the single event that he didn't want to turn down. Despite the flu, he still insisted on attending this one risking the potential wrath of his girlfriend. He thought he had made a huge difference by cancelling the rest of the functions and pushing the GEH Christmas party back.

Apparently, that wasn't enough for her in her standard.

"Fine, we're not going then," Christian glared at her challengingly. He had been chalking her behavior lately up as her anxiety from the outbreak of the flu, which he completely understood since they only just came out of a traumatic experience. However, she had been going overboard this time with the social events.

She stood at the entrance of the closet where he was picking out the outfit for tonight. They were only attending this one charity because he was still a big donor despite the slight financial stagnation. He had chosen to remain involved in this group because they were small and private, which meant they were truly non-profit.

Charities that were bigger and more well-known like Coping Together more or less had lost the non-profit component that the started out honoring. He knew that Coping Together was now ran by Mia and supported by Elliot, but he had deliberately avoided to be associated in any way shape or form.

"You know you're being irrational right now, Ana," he steadied his racing thought and put down whatever was in his hands. He adjusted his stance so that he was fully facing her. "I wouldn't have accepted the invitation if I knew that it would be a potential health risk."

"We can't afford to have more fuck-ups, especially with the way that our life hasn't returned to normal and that we're still living in the apartment that we rented."

Christian had no idea what prompted her paranoia, or her anxiety, but her feelings and emotions were slowly going haywire and getting out of control; more so since they saw the playroom with Leila in it. He was more than tempted to call Flynn now, but he didn't want to tick her off even more.

"It is a small get-together. A thank-you party for all the donors, which isn't much to begin with. You know that. You had been there since the beginning."

Anastasia glared at him hotly. She just wanted to make sure that everything was under control so that they wouldn't have to repeat the same mistake for not staying on top of everything.

"You don't have to be so difficult, Ana. The flu hasn't get to Seattle majorly. People died in other states that aren't in Washington. Just because your colleagues are sent over to the frontline doesn't mean that it's here. I understand that it makes you feel that you're very close to the source since your colleagues are sent away, but that also means that it's been contained."

She still appeared unconvinced, and this was all of her stubborn personality combined with her inability to relax. Funny how she was the one that needed to chill and stop being so strained all the time, and not him. He believed that she needed to breath and maybe she needed that vacation more than him.

Stress had never been the best to add to the mix in a relationship. Especially when the couple were not exactly on the best of terms at the moment.

To avoid exposure to the crowd for long hours, the charity hosts had moved the ball to the afternoon which would end early in the evening. He just needed to convince her that they were still able to live their life normally. It wasn't the first time that a flu broke out in the states and caused multiple deaths.

She didn't have to be so uptight and cautious like they were made out of virus-attracting material. In fact, it had been identified that it wasn't even a coronavirus like the SARS back in 2003, so she really didn't need to freak out like the way she did. He had purposely took out the part where she told him that he should work remotely and shut down the building until further notice in the email he sent his employees, as well as the part where she urged them to cancel the Christmas party.

He stared at her, an internal debate battled within his mind. He could see her struggles and her reasoning, but in his current state of mind, he wasn't sure that he could remain as patient as he had been and act compassionately.

This was it. He had made a decision, right there and then. In a spur of courageous surge, he knew that he had to put his foot down.

"We're not going," he announced again, this time meaning those words. He made a move to hung his tux back up and returned every piece of formal clothing back into the closet just to show that he meant business. "Put on something casual and comfortable, I'm sending a check."

It never felt so… liberating to command someone again. Not even command, but simply make a decision that he thought was sound.

She appeared stunned. Frozen at the very least.

"Where are we going?"

Instead of answering her, he raised his phone to his ear, and listened to the ringing tone as he waited for it to be picked up.

"John, hi. Listen, I'm sorry for intruding on your family holiday, but I need some help." He listened to the response and a faint smile showed on his face. "Okay, see you in a bit, and thank you for doing this in such short notice."

Without meeting Anastasia's interrogating glare, he typed out a text message to the charity board apologizing for dropping out last minute, citing a family emergency. Then, he texted Taylor informing him the change of plans and thanking him and whoever pulled themselves away from their family to sort through the mess in his playroom.

"It's funny how we have to call in favors to set a trial date when all the evidence that piled before the judge couldn't," he chuckled wryly at the new message from Burt. Typing out a quick response, he placed the device aside and proceeded to throw on casual attires on himself.

"What?"

He glanced up briefly to spy that she was moving in slow motion, but at least putting on clothes. She was probably in some kind of denial at the moment. She looked like she was in a daze.

"The first day back to work, Tuesday January twenty-fourth," he recited, but he was faintly aware that her focus was probably still on the fact that she didn't get what she wanted, or that he had actually called his psychotherapist. He half registered that the lawsuit he filed for many press companies for slandering and defamation was yet to be settled, despite the positive vibe his lawyer was giving him. He could probably get the money that everyone thrown in to save his company from the compensation from the media companies.

"Why are we going to see Doctor Flynn?" She uttered, pronouncing the professional title of the man when she was actually on first name basis with him. "We're going to interrupt their holiday just like we've done to a lot of people already, starting with Taylor and Gail. Whatever it is, surely it can wait until after the holidays."

He simply observed her, thinking about what to say. Might as well settle for the truth in times like this.

"Because I'm worried about you, Anastasia."

"You think I've gone mad, haven't you?" She whispered, horrified at the acknowledgement and the possibility of it actually being true.

"No, but I think you've reached your limit baby," he told her gently, cupping her cheeks to steady her shaking body and in an attempt to calm her down. "I love you, and I will be with you no matter what. Remember that," he vowed to her while locking eyes with her to display his sincerity and imploring her to have faith in them.

The door closed behind them with a soft click that still made Anastasia flinch.

"This is probably the first time you came to me in such a calm and collected manner, and sounding so patient and apologetic."

Christian chuckled along with the good doctor. They had briefly greet the rest of his family, which the couple was also familiar with, other than the little girl of theirs. Luckily, under Anastasia's insistence, they had brought each of the family member a little something as some sort of Christmas gift.

"How can I help you two today?" John asked once all parties settled comfortably, each in an armchair in the room, around a glass coffee table with their water atop.

Casting a nervous glance at his girlfriend, Christian took the initiative to recount the most recent development, or rather incident that occurred in the playroom.

"So, are you looking for a couple's therapy today or just counselling to get into each other's mind better?"

"We can come back for an appointment after the New Year," Christian suggested after staring at the now mute Anastasia for a beat.

John nodded.

"Maybe we should start from the very beginning. Ana?" John prompted.

"What's there to talk about?" Anastasia grumbled under her breath, clearly still unamused by practically being dragged over.

"Christian?" John didn't waste his breath on her as he allowed her sone more time to ponder.

He had nothing to say either because he couldn't identify the trouble in their relationship, so he recounted all the incidents since she was released from the hospital. Most of which Flynn was already aware of, but for her benefit, he still repeated them.

"What's your verdict then, doctor?" Anastasia broke the silence and pulled John from his own musing.

"Let me summarize it for you. First, you vetoed Isaac's adoption, and Christian defended his parents prior to learning about what went down in the penthouse. Then, Christian dropped the subject at your insistence because the trip to your parents' seems futile. Next, Christian voiced that you wouldn't let him out of your sight in Brighton, and he felt micromanaged. Lastly, there's the small details such as you forcing him into accepting the cash from your auctions, and demanding him to work from home as well as cancel the Christmas party."

"They all stemmed from having his best interest at heart," she protested weakly.

"To you, yes. However, consider this, Ana, why did you feel the immense and intense need to do all this?"

"To protect him. He would've done the same to me."

"Think about it more deeply. Christian, why didn't you voice your objections?"

"Because she wouldn't listen!"

"Think again," John said patiently, sounding as if he had an answer.

Admittedly, he didn't but he had an idea where the problem laid. In his opinion, and from what he had been told, he trusted that if the playroom scene hadn't occurred, they would be leading toward an unhealthy relationship; and would never go to him.

"What I did for christian are always within reason."

"Seemingly normal explanations, yes," John nodded concurring. "However," and here's the twist. "What caused this?"

Anastasia shrugged.

"Does this protectiveness has anything to do with your experience in the past twelve months?"

"Perhaps," she considered. "It does leave one's psyche damaged after practically witnessing your lover being slowly pushed into suicide by a single person, and meanwhile you're helpless. All I could do was watch and there's nothing that I could do until he was already on the verge of no return."

John hid his smile, at least he got her talking, and that was a huge step forward given that she had probably never spoken those words aloud before. It was an improvement.

"Admittedly, he wasn't committing suicide, but to be forced into faking one is extreme enough."

"So, why the coddling?" John brought the discussion back on track.

"I just don't want to see it ever happening again. Hence, I try to control whatever I can just so such tragedy could be avoided. We have to learn from our mistakes, right?"

"Right," he confirmed. "however, while you are exerting control over him, does that mean you don't trust him to make sound decisions for himself?"

"I do trust him, but I don't know what curveball life is going to throw at us, so I am constantly on high alert."

"Then, have you maybe considered asking him how he feels all this time? Perhaps you failed to realize that what you're doing is actually coddling him in an unwanted way."

Anastasia pursed her lips together tightly in a thin line.

"No, so perhaps I've been stressing myself out all this time for no reason at all? Because I'm paranoid?"

"Paranoid, but not in the medical sense, not in that definition. You are just trying to use your work to divert your attention and distract yourself from the stress you've put on yourself, and the uncontrollable variables in life."

"What do you suggest I do then?" Anastasia wasn't completely convinced that she was coddling him but she was willing to do anything to end this session sooner, because she hated troubling others with her own problems. She would admit that she might've been a little paranoid lately, but she didn't think it was that severe.

"Try channeling your stress through other relievers. Your pet dog for instance, or a massage. Or, you can even try practicing what Christian used to do without the icing on top," John advised with a bit of jibing bite at the end. "Sex helps, seriously," he switched his behavior. "Try accepting that what had happened isn't your fault and cannot be controlled. After digesting the sordid details of the past, it'll help you move forward better. Otherwise, come back to me after the New Year, and I can help, or I can ask someone else to help you if you're uncomfortable talking to me since I am Christian's therapist."

"Do you think moving back to the penthouse will help? People usually advocate facing the demons outright to defeat them. So, maybe living with the ghosts in the penthouse may help?"

"It might, but that may also turn the complete opposite direction," John warned before moving to Christian, giving her some time to digest and make a decision or at least contemplate her options.

"I know I've been too lenient and soft lately, but she's under a lot of stress and I don't want to push her away further and distancing myself by being unsupportive and not amiable. She might just one day decides that I'm not worth all the shit because I keep objecting to her requests, and pack her bags."

"What, and high tail out of your life? Christian, this insecurity is totally unnecessary. Do you remember our conversation when you came to me about her question on obligations?" Christian nodded gradually, not seeing the correlation at this instance. "Besides, did you just hear what she had confessed just moments ago?" John stopped abruptly, letting his patient finish his sentence by answering the questions.

Anastasia loved him to bits, and he needed to believe that.


Thank you for reading and reviewing!

[2/24 2020] RIP Mamba & Mambacita

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