Chapter Three

When I call Mom after dinner, she greets me, "Hey, sweetie, how's my grandchild?"

She hasn't worked out that I knew about Little Blip that last day in Savannah, so was only happy about my recent news. "Good, Mom. Though I'm not a fan of morning sickness. Looks like I just need to avoid getting hungry or thirsty, so that's something."

"It was the same for me. You've got snacks by the bed?"

I smile, and reveal, "I have a permanent smorgasbord by the bed. Christian is in overdrive, caring for me and the baby."

"So he should. And how are his symptoms?"

One, unsteady breath is enough to bring my emotions under control, so that I can reveal, "Oh, Mom, I can touch him now."

"Annie, that's wonderful. His therapist must be very good."

"He is. The meds have helped a lot. Christian says it just got to the point where he craved my touch more than he feared it. And it already doesn't feel painful for him."

I can hear the smile, when she suggests, "Then I presume you two don't get out much."

"Unnecessary. Actually, we went out today, sailing. He even let me drive his boat for a while. It was such a perfect day, that we also went swimming."

"You weren't scared?"

"No. I'm braver with him beside me."

"A braver you? Terrifying."

I laugh, and point out, "He's also obsessed with safety."

"A little less scary. Oh, how was your first ball?"

"Tiring, but fun. I met more of his family. They're all so welcoming, and still keen to meet you. Did you talk to Bob about visiting? We have a spare room here." Trying to not think about the many women who've slept in that bed has the opposite effect, but I ignore it.

"He's not sure that he can get away, so I thought maybe I'd come by myself?"

"Sure. When?"

"Next month? Not even I can stand Georgia in July."

I laugh, and say, "Perfect. Let me know when you've booked your flight."

"I will. You sound happy."

I don't hear a question mark, but I know she's asking. "I am, Mom. I didn't know it was possible to be this happy."

"And it'll get better. You'll understand, when the baby is born. Nothing compares."

"Okay, I'm gonna go, before I end up weeping yet again. I cry more than I thought possible too. 'Night, Mom. Give Bob a hug for me. I love you."

"Good night, sweetheart. I love you too."

Finally comfortable and safe, nestled against Christian in our bed, I reveal, "I'm not sleepy."

I sense a stirring of flames, when he asks, "Oh?"

I giggle, saying, "Not that. I just thought we could practice conversing."

He's caressing those wonderful calming circles on my back, as he says, "Sure, baby, but I am sleepy, so don't take it personally if I don't last the distance."

I kiss his shoulder, and say, "Fair enough. I was just wondering why Flynn doesn't come to you? Everyone else seems to."

"He maintains that no one can really be helped, until they want it. Making it to his clinic is the first indication that a patient is ready to heal. Though he will make house calls, in an emergency."

"So, he's been here once?"

"I wasn't living here when I had my meltdown. I'd just dropped out of Harvard, and hadn't found a place yet. Gretchen sensed that something was very wrong, when she worked out that I'd stopped sleeping and eating, so she told Grace. Probably saved my life."

Careful of my wording, I say, "Gretchen seems devoted to you and your family."

He chuckles, saying, "It's all right, I know she's keen on me. It's amazing how much you see, without sight. Even if I felt the same way, she counts as staff. I probably flirted back, when I was young enough to be that cruel, but she's out of luck, if she ever wanted more."

"What about the woman you were dancing with?"

He sounds highly amused, when he asks, "Jealous, baby?"

I don't feel jealous, but joke, "That depends on your answer."

He laughs, and says, "My relationship with Ann was cordial, not carnal. She's a Domme, and a lawyer. If you ever need to, you can trust her. She was recommended by...a friend, and educated me about the legal aspects of BDSM: contracts, confidentiality, legal pitfalls and loopholes, that sort of thing. Your research cover any of that?"

"Some." And then I say, "Maybe enough conversing for now, thank you."

I know that my feelings seeped into my tone, because he tenses, and asks, "Ana?"

"I'm okay."

He relaxes a little, but says, "If you're going to clam up every time I even don't say her name, that leaves a large chunk of my past off-limits when it's comes to conversing."

He relaxes still more when I say, "You're right." One deep breath is enough that I'm able to ask, "Elena knows her?"

"Elena knows everyone." When I silently stew over that piece of information, he asks, "She's leaving you alone?"

"For now."

And he's tense again. "What do you mean? I explained, Ana, that she's never to contact you, and she's promised to comply."

I sigh, and remind him, "Darling, she dominated you for several years, and influenced you for several more." When he says nothing, I get brave enough to say, "That sort of thing leaves marks too. Blind as I am, even I can see them. You're the only one who cannot. She's not done with you."

It's evident that I've gone too far, when he's suddenly gone from me, though I don't hear him leave the bed. "She's just a friend, Ana. I don't understand why you can't get past this."

Oh, darling, I know. "It's all right, Christian, I'll never blame you. And your meds will be wearing off about now, so let's just get some sleep."

"I have rage."

Scary words, though nothing in his tone suggests it's a threat. "Sorry?"

"You said that I didn't lose myself, but I sort of did. I told you that I got angry as a kid. Once I worked out that not every child is used like that, my constant fear became unceasing rage. There aren't enough words in the world to describe how angry I was, at him, at my mother, at the paramedics for resuscitating me beside her lifeless body...even at Grace, for rescuing me. All she's ever done is love me, and I hated her for it, because it felt like a profound lie. Can you imagine what it did to me, feeling hatred for the one person in the world who's only ever shown me kindness?"

Finally understanding that we haven't actually changed subjects, I guess, "Elena helped you with the rage? Mia said you used to fight, a lot."

He sounds calmer, when he asks, "What else did you torture out of my sister?"

Desperate for closeness, I settle for resting my hand between us, so that I'll at least feel his hand on mine. Instead, he holds my palm against his chest. I'm emotional enough that it's a little distracting, but his heartbeat is slow and steady, so I relax, and reveal, "That you were always fighting as an adolescent, until it suddenly stopped, when you were fifteen."

"Yes. Physical activity of any sort helps, but Elena gave me an outlet for my excess passion, and expressed her affection for me in a way that didn't feel like a lie."

"Whips and chains."

"Among many other tools, yes."

"So, no more rage?"

"I told you, I have rage, though no longer at Grace."

"Oh. Then...I'm sorry, darling, but I don't follow."

"By showing me how to channel my anger into a less destructive physical activity, Elena saved me too, from myself. Flynn thinks she set back my recovery in other ways, but concedes that I might otherwise have ended up like my mother."

"Oh, so he knows about your relationship with Elena?"

"He does now, but without her name, as per my promise to you." When I shrug my hand a little, he removes his, and I caress down his chest. By the time I've reached his belly, his muscles are tense, and I explore the iron hills for a while. And then his hand rests on my hip, as he asks, "Enough conversing?"

I know which shade we both need right now. "Channel your rage into me, Mr. Grey."

Monday morning, I'm getting dressed when Christian drawls, "Want some help with that?"

He still often manages to sneak up on me. Usually, it makes me very uncomfortable when anyone does that, but it has a quite different effect when Christian does it, so I smile, and point out, "If you get close enough to dress me, we'll both be late for work."

"True." Despite this, he approaches and takes my hands in his, to reveal, "I have a new need."

"Oh?"

"One of our team—your choice—will accompany you inside UPP, at least until we're sure there is no immediate danger."

"Christian, I'm fine. Scorpion Lady is still in Portland, and there's already security inside the building. Besides, how do you suggest that I explain a CPO to my colleagues? They're already weird about Rose's door-to-door service, but don't yet suspect she's also my bodyguard."

Instead of arguing, he merely says, "I'm well aware what level of security was considered adequate by the previous owner, and have already made changes." I keep on forgetting that he's basically my boss now. "And why are you the only person in this relationship who gets to define the hard limits?"

Damn, he did say this is a need for him, and he's promised not to lie. I smile, and concede, "All right, darling. Any of the team will be fine."

"That's it?"

I laugh, at his obvious shock, and say, "Of course. If it's a genuine need, and doesn't clash with my limits, I'll always comply."

His warm hands are caressing up the outside of my arms, as he vows, "I like you compliant." When I giggle, he says, "What?"

"Oh, just...even that tone can make me wet for you, and I suddenly had the thought that maybe my constant state of arousal is why I'm so often dehydrated, since meeting you. And I really have to get ready."

"No, you don't."

He doesn't sound very anxious, so I merely remind him, "We talked about this. Work is one of my limits."

He releases me, saying, "You're right. I'll see you tonight. Think we can kiss, and leave each other alone?"

I really don't, not with the way I want him right now. "Maybe just a little one."

I feel his heat, as he leans in, so tilt my face up, offering my lips. Instead, he kisses that spot just beneath my right earlobe, that always makes me weak at the knees. He's already walking away, when he claims, "Now you'll be wet for me."

He's not wrong.

It's almost noon when I get a phone call, and greet her, "Mia! I thought we were having lunch on Thursday?"

"We are. But I have a small favor to ask. I still haven't found an apartment, and I'm going crazy at Bellevue. Could I stay at your place, just for a few days? No one's there at the moment, right? I'd be happy to pay rent, or whatever, while I look for a place."

I'm certain Kate wouldn't mind, but remember one impediment. "Uh, it's okay with me, but Kate's brother, Ethan, has already begged the same favor, and will be sleeping on the sofa from tomorrow night."

"Oh."

She sounds so disappointed, that I suggest, "He's a good guy, Mia. If you're okay with him being there, you can take my room. I'm afraid you'll be sharing it with a whole lot of cardboard boxes, but there's enough room for one, small Grey. You'll need to buy some food, if you want to cook, but just about anything else you might need is there."

I hear her loud sigh, and she says, "Thanks, Ana. You're a lifesaver. Can I pick up the key right away? I'm nearby."

She sounds just a little too keen. "Mia, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Mom and Dad mean well, but they still think of me as a child. I just need a few days' breather."

"All right, Mia. Okay if you just pick up the key from reception? I'm swamped today; meetings keep getting in the way of work." Remembering that she knows about the sale of UPP, though Christian has asked me not to discuss it with colleagues, I add, "Seems there are a whole lot of changes being made. The owner must be a real control freak."

She laughs loud, and says, "Yeah, he must. Thanks, Ana. I owe you."

"No, you don't. I'll call you later."

Worried how Christian's shades will receive the afternoon's developments, I know that there's no point delaying it, so text him, 'Are you free?'

'Meeting. Can it wait?'

'Of course.'

I've barely put my phone down, when it tells me that Christian is calling. I should choose a ringtone for him. I'm about to greet him, when he asks, "What is it?"

"I thought you were busy?"

"I've stepped out for a moment. What's wrong?"

He left his meeting, to call me? "Christian, you didn't need to do that. It's not a big deal. Wendy is attending a fiction symposium in New York, on Thursday, and wants me to go with her. It would mean an overnight stay on Wednesday. I just thought you'd appreciate a heads-up."

He sounds far too calm, when he asks, "And why the short notice?"

"Uh, she was going to take a more senior colleague, but they're not well, so she asked me. You okay?"

I can hear someone saying his name. "I have to go. Don't agree yet. We'll discuss it later."

"I'm happy to discuss it, but I've already agreed, Christian."

"Later."

And I'm left holding a suddenly silent phone. I give myself enough time to calm down a little, but the thought is still strong in my mind, so I text him, 'Of course, there's a lot to be said for boring.'

Only seconds later, he replies, 'What the fuck does that mean?'

I don't really want him to worry, so reply, 'It means I love you, and I'm going to NY.'

As the minutes stretch on, it becomes obvious that our conversation is over. I hope there won't be an argument later, but I suspect this unsettled feeling in my stomach has nothing to do with Little Blip.

When I finally make it to the penthouse, Taylor meets me in the foyer, and I greet him, "Hey. Christian home yet?"

"Yes, ma'am. He's in the gymnasium. He suggested that Gail serve dinner thirty minutes from your arrival?"

That's Christian's second workout today, and he presumably had his normal training session with Claude. If he had that much rage to channel, I'm guessing our conversation isn't quite over. "That's fine, thank you."

"Anything else, ma'am?"

"Uh, is there somewhere I can work later? Like a desk or table?"

"Your new desk should be here by tomorrow, and we'll set it up in the library. For tonight, we thought you could use the conference room? There's a large table in there that's rarely used. You'll need to go through my office."

"You don't mind?"

"No, ma'am. I shouldn't need it tonight. Want me to show you there now?"

I hand over my briefcase, as I say, "No, thanks. I remember the way. I'll use it after dinner."

He seems to understand it's a dismissal, and walks away, with only one more, "Ma'am." I presume that I'll eventually get used to that too, but it still sounds weird.

Thirty minutes leaves enough time for a quick shower. I haven't yet finished when the other shower jet comes on, startling me. "Christian?"

I presume he's deliberately quoting me from last night, because I hear the smile in his voice, when he asks, "Who were you expecting?"

I relax, saying, "I thought you were angry with me."

"I am."

"You don't sound angry."

"Good. Do you have to go?"

"No, but I will. I asked Wendy why she chose me, when I've literally only been there a week, and she said it's because I see things that others don't."

He laughs a little, and agrees, "Yes, you do." And then he's suddenly close behind me, his arms around my waist, and his palms resting on my belly. "Your ticket and accommodation have been cancelled. You'll travel in our jet, and stay in our New York apartment. The choice of CPO, I leave to you."

He really does have a place everywhere. Given his many and varied issues, this is actually not as bad as expected. The cheeky reply in my head seems familiar, and I remember him gasping last time I said it. Now I understand why. "Sir is all politeness."

He kisses my shoulder, and I feel him smile. I wonder if he remembers too. "Yes, he is. What did you mean, with that comment about wanting more boring?"

"Nothing. I was just pissed off at your controlling ways. But I can live with this compromise, thank you. Can Wendy travel with me, though? We were going to do some preparation during the flight."

"Our jet. So it's up to you. If necessary, you can explain how I was able to make such changes. Unless Ms. Blair has drastically altered since I knew her, she's already worked out that UPP will soon be Grey Publishing, and is as discreet as ever."

"What?"

"Which part?"

All of it. "The...uh, name change part. Why do you have to do that?"

"Because everything I own ultimately bears my name."

Stepping out of his arms, and turning to face him, I accuse, "Like me?"

He's understood, because he warily says, "Of course not. I don't own you, no more than you own me anyway. Why are you angry?"

"Because you keep saying that you won't interfere in my career, and keep doing exactly that."

"You think your boss is taking you to New York as eye candy?"

Shaking my head, I can only again say, "What?"

"Do you not understand the term?"

I can't stop my volume from increasing, when I reply, "Of course I do. Why the fuck would you use it?"

"Easy, baby. Remember your stress levels."

Okay, enough. "Christian, the only stress in my long, stressful day was caused by you. I need a golf."

The sound of water bouncing off his shoulders alerts me that he's taken a step forward, so I move back. We're frozen like that for several seconds, and then he gently pleads, "Can you do it here?"

I breathe a sigh of relief, and concede, "It's a big apartment. I just need some time, to clear my head, okay?"

"All right. I'll eat in the kitchen."

"Thank you."