My dear little broccolis💚💚💚

💚 So, I'm glad you all like Jon.

💚 And yes, Ana still thinks of proper a bit too much. Maybe it will die down along the way, or maybe she needs something to shake her up ...

💚 And we have yet a new character coming up ... Love him or hate him ...

💚 If you want pictures of the story, just check out my Facebook group, Mina's Broccolis, and you will find pictures as the story unveils. And a few sneak-peeks here and there as well.

💚 From Duty To Love💚

Chapter 9: Lunch Date (3,0K)

Anastasia's PoV

It's been a few weeks since Jon has come to visit and I am still enjoying this life as Christian Grey's wife. Of course, I wouldn't mind being the mother of his children as well, but the couple of times I have brought up the matter during our Friday nights ended up with him brusquely ending the conversation, saying that it was a matter for another time.

I know that a few people from church are starting to look suspiciously at my stomach. We have been married for almost five months, and there is still no bump. Kate was pregnant soon after her marriage. So soon that she told me some people gossiped that she had consummated her wedding before the ceremony.

But I take comfort in thinking that Mia, Christian's sister only got pregnant after a whole year. Maybe people will assume I am like her. Though, to be honest with myself, I do know that they gossip about my fertility and Christian's sexuality.

Whether he knows it or not, he doesn't seem bothered by it. And so I try to do like him. After all, he has warned me on several occasions that people like to gossip about those wealthier and more powerful than them.

And people don't have much proof to go with their claims. Every week, Christian takes me somewhere. To the opera house, to the restaurant, to the theatre or a baseball game. And there was also the fair that came for the whole month of August. Every Sunday after church, Christian took me there and bought me a candied apple or an ice cream cone. Though I am sure he did that to feel less guilty about satisfying his sweet tooth.

I haven't extended much my circle of friends, beside Leila who is not always available. She often travels under Dr Cassidy's demands. He always sends her to the countryside to do what he doesn't want to do. Leila said that he doesn't like having a woman doctor working with him, but he can't really argue with her being at the hospital, because Christian is the one who offered her the position (and since he owns the hospital).

But when she is in town, we meet for lunch and she tells me all about her time in Philadelphia where she studied. She has so many amazing stories that make me smile with wonder, though sometimes I do find myself scolding her. Sometimes, Leila speaks a bit too much like a man, and she always apologises when she does so.

We never talk about Christian, nor her husband, so I assume that Leila does not usually like to get too intimate about other people. I am sure she doesn't say much to her husband about me, just like I do not talk about Leila to Christian. I am yet to meet Mr Williams. He always comes on Thursdays, but usually, Christian escorts me to my room before he comes.

I do find it odd that they conduct business so late in the night, but if Leila's husband is like Mia's and travels a lot, this may be the only time he has to spare for Christian.

So anyway, today is Monday and Leila is not in town, so I decided to surprise my husband. I have made some lunch and now I am in front of the bank so the two of us can share this impromptu meal. Christian never comes home for lunch, unlike some husbands do, but I know that he is very busy and that he works a lot.

With a deep breath, I walk into the bank, keeping my head high as I ask the clerk where is my husband's office. But before he can tell me, I hear a warm and familiar voice,

"Ana! How are you doing?"

I turn and smile at Kate's father, taking his offered arm so he can guide me through the bank. He doesn't question my presence here, but I know that his wife does what I'm doing, at least once a month. And Kate did for a little while, when she wanted to see Elliott, though she pretended to only come for her father.

Mr Kavanagh rambles about how the city life suits me and how he is glad that I enjoy it before leaving me to the door leading to Christian's office. He tells me to just get in and not bother knocking, and when I do so, I see the world Christian lives in during the day.

He is sitting at his office, writing down something. Behind him is a large window with heavy curtains to keep the warmth in during the cold days of winter. He also has a library here, though I am sure those books have nothing to do with the ones we have at home. In fact, there is an encyclopaedia, and I assume it is in relation to the world of banking.

He has a couch and armchairs with a small table on which there is a bottle of whiskey. This is definitely the office of someone important like Christian Grey. The only office I ever saw was one of my uncle's who is a journalist, and it looked nothing like this one.

As he still hasn't noticed me, I clear my throat. He keeps on writing, and once he is finished, he looks up, scolding before his face turned into worry,

"Anastasia?"

I smile and show him the basket, still staying by the door. "I brought you lunch.

"How did you get here?"

"Appreciating the sun the good Lord gave us," I let him know with a teasing smile.

He scowls but I don't stop smiling. If I were to listen to Christian, I would no longer walk anywhere unaccompanied. He has Mr Taylor come back to the house whenever I want to go shopping or when I go see the Reverend. I keep telling him that it is not a problem, or against the rules for me to walk on my own, but I think I will have a better time speaking to a mule. Still, if he wants little surprises like that, he will have to get used to the fact that I will walk on my own sometimes.

He doesn't move, and so I tease him, "If you don't want my food, I am sure Mr Kavanagh will not mind having a nice lunch with some sweet dessert."

He glares at me and stands up as he strongly states, "Eamon will have nothing of what is in that basket."

He then walks the few steps separating us and takes the basket from my hands before taking his coat and hat and letting me know, "We are still in the warm and sunny days of autumn. Let me take you to the park."

I smile and take his offered arm before we leave his office. Some people gape at us, but as per usual, he doesn't care, though he still finds the time to give orders to a couple of clerks. Once outside, he takes us to the little park just by the bank and we sit on the grass, setting up our lunch as children play around us.

There is a photographer taking pictures of the duck pond and I smile when I see Christian looking at him. Christian doesn't have a camera lens, even though I know he really likes the idea of it. He sees it as immortalising a moment. Just like writers, painters and musicians do, a photographer immortalises something precious. And … when he told me that it made me smile with pleasure because I know Christian has the photograph of our wedding in his home office.

As I take out of the basket the vegetables as well as the croquettes Mrs Jones made with the salted meat, Christian leans against the tree behind us and lets me know, closing his eyes, "It has been a long time since I had lunch outside of my office. I usually work through that."

I freeze, looking up at him, "Oh? I didn't mean to—"

"It's a welcome sight to see you, Anastasia. In fact, I had been thinking of you just an hour ago." He interrupts me, opening his eyes and smiling at me.

I can't help but smile back. He so seldom smiles outside of our home, and his smile is so … contagious. It unlocks a warm and serene feeling in me, and when his lips turn up, I find myself wishing that he would never stop smiling.

His grey eyes ravel to my hat, and before I can process it, he reaches up to undo it, pulling on the ribbon.

"Christian!" I admonish, but he keeps the hat in his hand and rests his head back against the tree as he nonchalantly says,

"The hat hides your beautiful hair, Anastasia. It's already a shame that you have to tie it up, please don't hide it from. Besides, I frankly do not care if you take the sun. You have are so pale, you look like a nefarious creature from one of your books. Some sun will do you good."

I blush and give him his plate before accommodating mine. Just two weeks ago Christian has gifted me with a collection of poems from Edgar Allan Poe. And yes, they gave me such a fright, but I loved them nonetheless. In fact, I love books that scare me (even though I sleep with the light on the first night).

Christian watches me as I finish my plate, and he lets me know, "I usually go to to New York and Chicago for a month after the New Year. I would like you to accompany me this year. So I can show you both cities."

I stare at my husband, surprised by his request. Mia's husband travels a lot, but he never takes her with him. But Christian wants me to come with him, and he wants to take me out in the City.

"You want me to come with you?" I ask for confirmation, and when he nods, I can't help but childishly ask, "Will you take me to see that French statue in New York?"

"I'll take you wherever you want, Anastasia. We can see that statue of President Lincoln in Chicago as well. As long as you come with me."

I beam at him, happy beyond words. I have never travelled further than Seattle, and now, I will get to see two cities with my husband. Christian smiles at me before his lips turn into something jaunty and he presents his cheek to me, tapping it with playfulness. I quickly glance around us before leaning and kissing his cheek. But of course, Christian always tries to get more than what he gets. It must be the banker in him,

"Of course, if you decide to made a cake off-schedule and have it waiting for me tonight, I can assure you that I won't mind."

I briefly ignore him, sipping on my red wine before telling him, doing my best to sound scolding and not radiant, "Don't be greedy now, Christian. Just eat what I brought you."

He squints his eyes at me, reading into my words the truth: that there is more; and he reaches for the basket to look inside. Then, he grins like a child and takes out the brownie I have made for him. This just has everything Christian likes, sugar, chocolate and nuts. It is an expensive and luxurious cake to make, but the first time I made it, it had as much success as my pineapple cake.

He leans to kiss my cheek, caring very little about the eyes around us, and then we eat. As we do, I ask Christian about his work and he tells me about his most recent project. He wants to build one of those buildings like the ones that are in Chicago and New York, but instead of turning them into workplaces, he wants to turn them into living areas, so many people could live there all at once.

He is quite passionate about it, because it will create jobs, and then it will solve the issue we have with homelessness. He wants to rent those places at a low cost, and so I suggest that maybe he should give a discount to the workers that will help him build his idea. It will assure him to have renters, and it will encouage people to work on the building if they know they can live in it.

He seems to approve, though he lets me know that the current mayor is against his idea, so, even though the land is his, he will have to wait for the next election to even start working on that. Let's hope Elliott wins.

Christian also tells me about the proposition he made Jon to work with him. He explains to me that having someone like Jon would be beneficial to him, because he would be able to invest more abroad, having an eye to oversee things there.

I had no idea that Jon left such impression on Christian, but I am over the moon over the fact that he is going to live with us starting the next year. Christian said that he just wants to keep him as an apprentice for a year before sending him across the world.

When we finish, we go back to his office so we can drink coffee together. Christian only drinks coffee after lunch, and I joined him in his habit, though it took me a while to get used to the bitter taste. He is sitting behind his desk, and as I finish my cup, I look at him and notice,

"You look tired, Christian."

Christian is always up before me and goes to bed after me. And he works a lot, not to mention all the things he does to keep me company. He smiles at me and dissmissively shakes his head,

"Do not worry yourself about it. I am used to it."

Leila did mention something to me a couple of weeks ago. A practice, apparently rather common in Asia and Africa, that helps people be less tense. She even showed me a little how to do it. Massages. So I get up and go to my husband to help him feel a little bit better.

I put my hands on his shoulders, and when he says nothing, I just knead his muscles, trying to dissipate his tension. Leila said that it worked better with no clothes on, but that is not going to happen. Imagine if Mr Kavanagh walks in and finds his boss with his shirt off whilst his wife has her hands all over him. Definitely not proper.

Christian closes his eyes and lets me touch him over and over again until I encounter a very hard muscle and focus on it, making him let out an appreciative sound.

He suddenly snaps his eyes open, his right hand quickly gripping my left one to make me stop and his face suddenly cold and hard. He looks at me, before kissing my fingers and sitting straight on his chair as he tells me, "You should go home, Anastasia. I have work to do."

"Christian, I just …" I start to apologise, because it seems that my massage idea was not a very good one after all. But he interrupts me and takes his pen in hand as he firmly says,

"I will see you for supper."

Well, that lunch definitly started better than it ended. I reach for the basket, and he stops me from taking it, telling me with a gentler voice, "I will bring it home. There is still some brownie left inside, and I won't say no to a little snack later on."

I give him a polite smile and walk to the door, putting my hat back on. As I open it, he tells me, "Ask Mr Taylor to drive you home, Anastasia. You shouldn't walk on your own."

I nod and leave, still trying to understand what I did wrong. Maybe Christian thinks I crossed some sort of line with this massage idea. Once at the entrance of the bank, I ask Mr Taylor if he doesn't mind driving me home, and of course he obliges. We walk to the car that is parked just by the park, and I see that the photographer is still here. I ask Mr Taylor to wait by the car and make my way to the gentleman, a perfect idea in mind.

I know Christian doesn't have time for photography, and that's why he never allowed himself to fully indulge in his passion. But … maybe for Christmas, I can bring the photography to him.

I clear my throat, and the gentleman turns to look at me, before smiling and he gently bows his head, touching his hat for me.

"Madam."

Well, now, I feel foolish. I have no idea what to say. I take a deep breath, pretending to be Leila or one of those Swedish women who can vote Jon told me about.

"I am Mrs Grey. I was wondering if I could take some of your time tomorrow for lunch. I have a project you might be interested in, Mr …"

He glances at the bank (it is a well-known fact that the bank belongs to the Grey family) and he gives me a smile as he introduces himself,

"Luke Sawyer."

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

💚Your thoughts and opinions are always welcomed💚

💚 So, Sawyer came into the story

💚 And Christian refused a massage. Maybe he is about proper after all.

💚 And what do you think Ana will do with Sawyer?

💚And something new, the artists mentioned💚

Edgar Allan Poe (writer)

💚Well, let me know what you thought of this chapter. What was your favourite part? What do you think will happen next?

💚 E L James owns the names of the characters from the Fifty Shades franchise. Everything else is mine.

Love, Mina💚💚💚