Hello everyone. Hope you all are safe during this difficult time.
Sorry for the wait but I hope it will be worth it.
As usual, I own nothing and just borrowing the characters for fun.
Anastasia POV
Saturday 18 May 2019
I feel like I'm having an out of body experience. It's like I'm watching a movie on slow motion. The moment I saw Christian go down on one knee my brain was so shocked it went on autopilot. Everything felt so surreal and otherworldly.
I knew he would propose and I knew he would do it in a public forum, we had discussed this. But to make my reaction believable, he didn't want to tell me the when, where or how he was going to do it. Christian abhors overly dramatic displays which draw unnecessary attention to himself so for him to propose at this very public, high society venue was…surprising. Sure it was planned that way.
But who the fuck am I kidding? Was I surprised? Pfft. Ab-so-fuckin-lutely, but what surprised me more was my reaction to it. My response was heartfelt, real, unforced, raw. I was enraptured and filled with a pure sense of joy, caught up in the scene so romantic tears sprung from my eyes. This by far surpassed every literary proposal any women had ever received, and he made it mine. For a moment I totally forgot that all of this was just a show. I was so caught up in the euphoria of the moment, I honestly believed his proposal was true, his feelings unrehearsed and that he had unequivocally fallen in love with me.
What a fucking mind trip. If I don't get my headspace together, I'm going to be so fucking screwed, I'll be needing sessions with that over priced charlatan Christian calls a psychologist, soon.
Coming down from that emotional high, I began to hear that logical second voice in my head. The bitch that keeps reminding me this isn't real. This, she tells me, is all a well-organized and much rehearsed plan to fool the masses. I began to listen to that voice and reassess the events just transpired from a tactical point of view and realized that she's right on spot. Damn those inner voices and their logic!
I can see why Christian chose this exact event and timing for his proposal. It's a strategically brilliant move. All of Seattle's best, the crème du la crème, both in society and business, are in attendance here and his family is hosting the event killing two birds with one stone.
It's clear that Christian had put a lot of thought into it, and I must say his performance was Oscar worthy. If I didn't know the true purpose of his proposal, I'd have fallen for it. Hook, line and sinker.
The crowd of people congratulating us is simply ridiculous. Who the fuck are these people? The family's reaction is understandable, and I genuinely feel the love from the Grey men and Adele, God, you just can't help but love that woman. But from the rest of them, it's all bullshit. Fucking social climbing weeds! Was it not a few hours ago these same biddies, Adele's term of endearment, not mine, who are now offering me their congratulations were the same ones Adele put in their place a short while ago?
Christ! this onslaught of attention and intrusion to my personal space is overwhelming. I need to get to Christian and we need to get the fuck out of here. I'm a fucking emotional train wreak and my mind is all over the place. I need time to ground myself, and this crowd of people isn't helping.
Being vertically challenged, fucking shorty if you will, even in heels, I had to gradually move my body toward where Christian was standing. Somehow between him receiving hugs and congratulations from his family, we got separated. Not by much, but enough that I can't reach him, and being height deficient, he can't see my face to make eye contact. So, like the stealth ninja turtle that I am, I inch my way over to him after every congratulatory handshake and cheek air kiss.
I will need to bathe in sanitizer after I get the hell out of here.
I see him hugging his parents, and his mother looks so happy it's heart-warming. Fuck. If she was cautious of me before, she's going to fucking abhor me when she finds out this was all a gag. She's bloody crying, she's so happy for him. Bollocks! I so don't want to be there when that goes down.
I'm channelling in and sending out my Jedi-Knight mind calling thing to Christian, willing him to look at me, and as I see him let go of his dad, he takes a step back to scan the crowd and locks his spectacularly beautiful grey eyes to mine.
HOLY FUCK! Did that nerdy shit just actually work?
I give him a pointed stare and with my newfound powers I'm telling him to get me the fuck out of here pronto! And, holy fuck that nerdy shit worked once again, he gives me a quick nod acknowledging my message.
Yah. It's real. I'm totally infused with the Force. I must be related to Princess Leah or something.
Christian hates crowds and people in his personal space even more than I do, so I know he'll think of something so we can make our clean escape. Once I'm close enough to him, I grab onto his arm and raising myself up on my tippy-toes I whisper in his ear as delicately as I can, "get me the fuck out of this hell" then kiss him on the cheek keeping to script for the onlookers still gathered around us.
Although the numbers have thinned out a bit, people are still coming up to us with their congratulations and well wishes. It would be rude to just leave, so taking matters into my own hands I let Christian know that I'm abandoning him for a moment hoping he's come up with an exit plan by the time I return.
''Honey. I need to use the ladies' room before we head home. I should be about five minutes." Smiling sweetly, I politely break away from the group, a few handshakes more until I'm finally free and make a beeline for the glorified outhouses. I just need time to regain my equilibrium. Just five minutes to catch my breath and find my inner Zen.
Thank heavens the luxurious portable bathrooms are empty. I never knew they even made these. You learn something new every day even if it is useless information. Mind you, potties aren't useless, I've just never seen any portable ones with mini chandeliers in each stall before.
It's official, I'm going crazy. I'm actually babbling to myself about bloody outhouses! I need a stiff drink and a shrink, in that order exactly. And this is what my life is going to be for the next year or so. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, what the hell have I gotten myself into? You keep asking yourself this question Ana, and the answer is always the same. You're doing this for Daddy. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
Checking to ensure my coast is clear, I practically dive into an available cubicle, close the lid and sit my ass down with my elbows on my knees cradling my head in my hands. Taking a few deep breaths, I shake my head to try and quiet the onslaught of emotions wrought over the last few hours. I order my heart to stop racing, maintain deep breaths and focus on the sounds of my inhale/ exhale. In and out, in and out until with painstaking effort I slowly, painfully slowly calm down. When I open my eyes, looking down at my lap I notice the lighthouse sized, obnoxious diamond ring on my left hand.
Is this thing even fucking real? Who am I kidding? Grey does nothing in halves. It's fucking real. I wonder what the return policy on this sucker is. It is beautiful if ostentatious, but it's definitely not me. This is Christian Grey all over. For a guy who doesn't like attention, he sure knows how to draw it. Ok Steele. You can do this.
After a few moments, I actually take the time to do my business, since I'm in here anyway, and enjoy the brief tranquillity of isolation albeit on the shitter no less. The irony is not lost on me. I'm at one of the fanciest events contemplating my shitty life situation sitting on a toilet.
I know as soon as I step out of this cubicle my moment of peace will be short lived. Pulling myself together I open the cubicle door, and there in technicolour is fucking Elena Blond Bitch Lincoln. I never even heard anyone come in and from the way she's standing around, I know the witch has been lying in wait for me.
Christian, you useless bastard.
She's standing there like some kind of warrior queen with her peroxide mop, swollen fish lips and painted brows giving me her best look of intimidation. Ignoring her, I go wash my hands, sigh chuckling to myself because the image I'm sure she's trying to portray is falling quite short of the mark. She may envision herself to be The Black Widow but in actuality, she's more a skeletal version of Ursula the Octopus from the Little Mermaid.
I have no idea what Christian sees in this woman. Why would anyone on God's green earth want to wet their dick into that hole is beyond me. The man is a god and this…woman is…is…fuck. I think the word to describe that thing was not invented yet. It's baffling.
''I'll have to admit, you are a pretty little thing," she starts, "but I do have to warn you, he's not one for attachments even though you may have that little boulder of a ring on your finger. To him it's all meaningless and let's be honest, he's totally out of your league. I do hope you don't get your hopes up believing that display out there is something more than it actually is.'' Her words are dripping with venom and jealousy. Through the mirror I notice Elena stalking closer to me as I nonchalantly pat more of that amazing lipstick Franco gave me in an effort to ignore this…person.
I need to get more shades of this thing. After all the face sucking Christian and I did back there, the stuff stayed on and didn't smear. Note to self, ask Franco to get me the whole colour range.
"Oh please. Your ridiculous attempts to ignore me is futile, girl. I know Christian very well…"
Oh. I bet you do, you sick fuck. God, I think I just burped up bile. Ew. Ew. Ew.
"…and someone like you, just isn't his type. He's quite specific."
I have no idea what is going through this woman's head that she would seek me out to discuss Christians' needs, but her fruitless attempts to show her superiority looks more like a woman out of control than exerting control. Turning to face her I laugh in her face, noting her dark eyes as they turn to mere slits probably wondering why her intimidation tactics do nothing for me.
Still chuckling both from exasperation, because obviously Christian hasn't dealt with Cruella as he promised, and her idiocy, I ask her ''How is my relationship with Christian any business of yours?''
Hag better back off before I round her one, not that she deserves ruining my perfectly manicured nails.
''Christian and I have been the closest of friends for a long time so everything that concerns his welfare is my business. That was impressive show you two put on out there. It got me thinking how pathetic your little attempts to grab his undivided attention with all of your handsy drama and intimate whispers. It's all a bit much don't you think. Really girl, do you honestly believe someone as prominent as Christian would be actually interested in you? Do you hope that this illusion you've both created is real and Christian is falling in love with you? I know all about it. All of this is to save his ass, and I'm trying to save you from heartache. Love is not an emotion Christian Grey understands. I'm just giving you a fair warning honey. Many have tried, all of them failed.''
I can tell she's struggling to sound like a concerned bystander but it's evident that all this concern is a façade, especially when she practically cackles that last bit with a smug expression. This is one sick bitch and I'm tired of this pointless conversation so with placid finality I end it.
''Noted. If that's all then my fiancé is waiting for me. Good night Mrs. Lincoln.'' I tell her sweetly and make a move to leave the room.
''I'm not the enemy here Anastasia." The woman checks me out from head to toe, then back up again, making me feel like I'm the next red shirt in Stephen King's IT. "You are a very pretty young woman. Perhaps, after you and Christian part ways I can help you find a man that would keep you in this lifestyle. I am well known and connected in this society so with my endorsement, and a small finders' fee, I'm sure we can find an amicable partner for you.''
What. THE. FUCK?! Is she seriously trying to pimp me out? Holy Mother Fuck!
My rhetorical question is answered by all the schizophrenic voices rallying off one by one in my head. These voices, the foundation to what I understand is my gut instinct; the logical voice, the rash emotional voice, even the psychotic impulsive voice all echo their confirmation that I am definitely being pimped out. Well. If Bellatrix wanted my attention, she definitely has it now. The bloody hag is Hannibal certifiable. Alarm bells are ringing in my head and the hairs on my arms rise up. I need to shut this bitch down and keep her the fuck away from me.
What the fuck did I get myself into. Christian you prick! His fucking trash keeps following me like a bad smell. The shit I've had to deal with being tied up to this man is unreal. To bad it's too late to back away from our insane deal and just forget it like a nightmare it is.
I stop mid stride in my exit and almost trip on my heels, flummoxed by her proposition.
''This society?! I'm not sure I understand, or even want to understand to which society you are referring to Mrs Lincoln. And why, in Holy Heaven, would I want to be in this society?''
I take a deep, deep breath because I know the dam to my patience is starting to crack and the vitriol seeping through cannot be held any longer.
"Unlike you, I don't need this lifestyle or society. I'm perfectly capable of handling myself. But your proposal is intriguing. Do you often pimp out the women involved with Christian? Are you whoring him like you've just proposed to me? Does he even know? I wonder what he would say if I asked him for his insight."
I can't seem to hold on to my ire, so I just let it rip.
"Here's what I think. I think you purposefully sought me out, trapping me secluded in the ladies rest room of all places to lay out your concern in the hopes that what you just saw out there isn't as real as you think it shouldn't be. It looked real didn't it. And I bet, for you, it felt very real."
I'm slowly stalking up to her now and with each step I take forward, she takes back.
"Christian may be your friend but I'm not. I don't need someone with a dick and a fat wallet and I definitely have no interest in obtaining a pimp to whore me around. If you are at all concerned about your dear friend, it will be in your and ultimately his best interest to keep. The. fuck. Away. From. Me!'' I hiss at her. I need a long shower after sharing breathing space with this old piece of dog shit!
And the cunt keeps coming back at me. ''Don't you dare speak to me like that, you little bitch. Mark my words, Christian will dispose of you like yesterday's trash and you will crawl to me begging for help.'' She hisses grabbing me by the wrist.
OH, fuck no! She just didn't…!
I'm just about to swing her a right hook, when it dawns on me. She's behaving like this because she still wants Christian on a leash. Their affair may have ended physically years ago but she believes she has control over him. I'm the new and unpredictable factor. She can't control me. She's got nothing to hold over my head and that makes her nervous and desperate. Looks like Mrs. Total Control is loosing it and that brings out the crazy in her.
Yah, like that's gonna happen. And Maleficent better let go of me soon or she'll be sporting an eye the same colour as her dress.
My voice is quiet, low, sinister and dark when I tell her ''Get. Your. Claws. Off. Me!" My voice carries the threat she knows is real and Medusa loosens her grip on my arm. I look down and see the beginning of a bruise forming there, but it's nothing to the rage that's brewing inside me. Knowing what I've just come to know, I hold my anger in check. She may be a sick bitch, but she's not my problem. By letting her know I'm not the threat she may believe me to be, maybe she'll keep herself in check and out of my way. Threats don't seem to work so may be reason will. Logical right? Worth a shot.
"Listen to me Elena. Whatever relationship you have with Christian, past, present or future, is none of my business, however your jealous adolescent acts of bullying on me is. I'd hazard a guess that you're still living under the delusion of getting Christian back into your bed.'' Her eyes widen and she pales.
Yes. I know and I'll use it to my advantage if and when it becomes necessary. If I'm getting fucked over, you better be DAMN fucking sure I'm not going down alone.
Playing that card may be a bad move on my part, but now she knows that I know. Christian obviously talked to her about me, I'm just returning the favour.
''I don't give a rat's ass what you want or whatever the fucking deal it is you have with Christian. You want to fuck him, go ahead. You want to pimp him out? Fine! But don't fuck with me. Don't come near me. Don't talk to me. Don't even think about me. I am not your Bitch, do you understand?" Not bothering to hear her reply I stalk out of the bathroom leaving a stunned and bewildered Wicked Witch. Green is an unfortunate colour on her. I feel like I've just walked through the sewers in the bowels of Venice.
God, where is a bucket of sanitizer when you need it?
As much as I don't want to, and there's no amount of bleach that can wash away the information Sybil just handed me, I can't help but process her crazy shit. It's bloody mind boggling. The One Who Shall Not Be Named is like a chameleon with a lot of faces; She's a predatory paedophile, a behind the scenes Madame for the rich and famous, while in public she's a respected owner to a chain of exclusive beauty spa's, a socialite and member on various charity boards.
If Christian was fifteen when she got him started, it begs the question was he her first and last victim. I somehow doubt it. If Christian is still in contact with her, going so far as co-owning a business, he most likely doesn't even identify himself as her victim. Fucking hell, this is wrong on so many levels! He's like the Manchurian Candidate.
My mind is a jumbled mess. Part of me wants to go back to that bathroom and choke the evil bitch with my bare hands, then with those same hands, shake some sense into Christian. The other part wants to just say 'fuck it' and forget all about this fucked up situation, erase all the Greys with their shit and go rogue. In the end, for reasons beyond even my logic, I stay the course.
''Fuck. I'm in too deep and t's too late now.'' I mumble to myself looking at the Tesseract Christian placed on my finger. The man has more money than common sense. Sure, I was expecting the ring to be nice, but this is ridiculous. I feel like Elizabeth Taylor.
Ostentatious fucker.
I quicken my steps in my eager need to find Christian so we can get the fuck out of here. I'm so emotionally drained and mentally exhausted I just want to get into a hot bath, relax and not think.
This chapter is a bit shorter, but there will be an update with Christian's POV soon.
Laters, Ilenka.