Chapter Nine

By the time Ana and I rejoin the party, it sounds like dinner has been served. Sure enough, Mia accosts us, "Where did you sneak off to? Mom announced dinner ages ago. It's a buffet, so you're not too late."

At least I know we weren't too loud. The bed I slept in as a boy, is another place I never imagined ever fucking someone. It's amazing how quickly Ana has turned everything on its head, and how much I enjoy it. "We had a late lunch. Don't worry, I'll cut my cake, and stay for my fireworks."

She rolls her eyes, at my mocking tone, and says, "Ana, I don't know how you put up with him. But I'm here to rescue you for a few minutes." At my glare, she continues, "Don't worry, brother, I'll return her in one piece. It's just girl talk."

Obviously, it's not up to me. "Ana?"

Her brow puckered in confusion, Ana concedes, "Okay, Mia, but only a few minutes. Tonight is for Christian."

I kiss her cheek, and promise, "I'll save you a plate of food."

"Thank you, darling."

By the time I've filled two plates, Ana is nowhere in sight. I put them in safe place, and go looking for her, a little worried that she's being held against her will by my kid sister. That theory is proven wrong, when I see Mia, and accuse, "Did you lose my fiancée?"

She glances behind her, saying, "Oh, I guess so. She was right behind me. She might be chatting with Elena. I saw her heading that way. Does that woman ever wear anything but black? You'd think she was in mourning." She giggles, and suggests, "Probably for her ass, which appears to have deserted her over the years."

"Where, Mia?"

"Where has her ass gone?"

It's not the first time I've felt the urge to shake my sister, but definitely the strongest, "Where did you leave Ana?"

She looks confused, probably sensing my fear. "Dining room. Why?"

I don't bother answering. I'm already too far away. I enter the room just in time to see Ana slap Elena across the face. What the hell could Elena have said to provoke such a response? I can't imagine Ana hitting anyone except in self-defense. And then I see the livid red handprint on her cheek. She didn't strike the first blow. I know that she won't want me stepping in to defend her. Still, I can't keep a promise of vengeance from my voice, when I ask, "Anastasia?"

She stands straight, staring right at me, and I'm transported back to that day we met, when she was stubbornly resisting my offer of assistance. "We're fine, darling. Just more girl talk."

Elena is clutching her face, no doubt playing for sympathy. She's out of luck; even if I could bring myself to care, I know full well her tolerance for pain. And she says, "You've certainly found a feisty one, Christian. But she's not right for you."

I'd managed to keep a lid on my anger, until that last sentence. "You wouldn't have the first fucking clue what's right for me. Why are you even here? Don't try to pretend Mia invited you; she has better taste than that."

By the time I'm finished, Ana is by my side, and I apologize with a tender touch on her still reddened cheek. Looks like she doesn't blame me, because she leans into the caress, and smiles her love for me. It seems even that isn't enough of a hint for Elena, who argues, "She can't be what you need. Don't you see that?"

Clearly, words aren't working. I take Ana's wrist, and bring her hand to my chest. She senses what I'm about to do, and resists, but I'm too angry to heed, and place her palm against my skin while looking at Elena, to vow, "Anastasia is all I've ever needed. You were nothing more than a schoolboy's wet dream, an adolescent mistake."

So many emotions flicker across Elena's face, and she eventually returns to rage, insisting, "She's just after your money, darling. How do you even know the child is yours?"

How the fuck did she find out about the pregnancy? My hands twitch, with the need for violence, and I roar, "Enough! I warned you, this is none of your fucking business. Stay the fuck away from my family."

She blanches a little, at my vehemence, and then attempts, "You'd throw away a lifelong friendship, for someone you've known only a few weeks?"

Ana is now pushing at me, and I know she's speaking, but I'm too far gone to hear the words, as I bludgeon Elena with, "Friendship? You were never my friend. You groomed me, and abused me. But I'm not a kid anymore. You don't ever get to fuck with me again."

It's the first time I've said it out loud. And I hear the truth of it. I suddenly feel lighter, as if something I'd been carrying forever just fell away. It looks like Elena finally heard me too, because she's pale, her mouth open in shock. And a deafening silence has fallen upon the world. Into this vacuum, Grace calmly declares, "Elena, I think it's time for you to leave, and never come back."

I don't know how much Mom heard, but it was clearly enough, and I feel ill, that she ever had to learn what was done to me, especially like this. Again, several emotions play out on Elena's face. This time, she settles on defiance, and doesn't even look at any of us, to leave the room. Only then do I notice that Ana is now wrapped around me. Apparently, my arms encircled her without me being aware of it. I'm about to ask if she's okay, when Mom requests, "Ana, darling, may I please have a moment alone with my son?"

Ana lifts her head from my chest, and merely says, "No."

I kiss her forehead, and assure her, "It's okay, baby."

She stands up straight beside me, claiming one of my hands, and says, "No. This is Christian's day. Now, clearly, you people have way too many secrets, and you can hash it out later. But that...woman has already stolen too much from this family. She doesn't get another second."

I'm not sure who looks more shocked, me or Mom. I'm trying to recall the last time anyone dared to admonish my mother, and still haven't come up with an example when she steps towards Ana. On instinct, I move to intercede, before realizing how stupid that is. They'd never deliberately hurt each other. Sure enough, Mom takes Ana's free hand, and then kisses her cheek. Her voice cracks with emotion, when she says, "Christian, my darling, you know I love you. But my fervent prayer is that all your children take after their mother."

Ana and I haven't actually discussed more kids, though I'm becoming increasingly fond of the idea. She's blushing from the praise, as I agree, "Amen."

It's well after midnight, and I'm creeping into my childhood bedroom. Déjà vu. Though it was usually through the window, after I'd sneaked out for a few hours. From the bed, Ana says, "I'm awake. How did it go? Is Grace okay?"

I'm rapidly shedding my clothes, as I say, "Fuck, first."

She giggles, and says, "You're such a romantic."

Grinning like an idiot, I counter, "Fine, I'll make sweet, sweet love to you, instead."

I practically leap into bed, and she's moving into my arms, as she says, "Well, that'll be fun too."

At this point, I genuinely don't mind, but ask, "Hard or gentle?" When she pushes at my shoulder, I roll onto my back. She takes my semi-erect cock in hand, and strokes it a few times, until I'm ready for her. Still silent, she climbs astride me, and sighs as our bodies join. After all the drama, I guess she needs this as much as I do. We start off at a fairly sedate pace, but Ana soon clutches at me, and ups the tempo, until I'm only seconds away from losing the power of thought. I grab her hips, in an effort to prolong our pleasure, and plead, "Easy, baby. Easy."

She pushes at my arms with enough force, that I let her move them. Fuck it, if that's what she really wants, I'm happy to oblige. I glide my hands up her back, and bend my knees, to accommodate her movements. Only seconds later, she cries out, and her palms slap onto my chest, as she comes long and hard, finally collapsing against me. Unsure exactly what she needs from me right now, I merely caress her back and hair, until she calms down enough to whisper, "I missed you."

I laugh, making her gasp when I twitch inside her, and then say, "I can tell. You okay?"

"I am now. Need your orgasm?"

Seems like one was enough for her this time. "You can owe me. Want me to fetch a cloth?" Even without much contribution from me, there is a lot of moisture in this bed.

She tenses, and asks, "Oh, does Gretchen do the laundry?"

"God, you're adorable."

"What?"

"You're worried about the housekeeper having to clean stains from the sheets? What do you think happens at Escala?"

"Gail doesn't have a crush on you."

"Oh, right." I really don't care. It's not my fault that Gretchen can't let go of her infatuation. But I care about Ana. "If it bothers you that much, I can wash them before we leave in the morning."

She laughs, seriously threatening my resolve to forgo my orgasm, and asks, "You know how to use a washing machine?"

Some things are still not easy to discuss, even with Ana. "I, uh, used to wet the bed."

"Christian, I'm sure everyone does, at some point."

I need a deep breath, before finding the courage to reveal, "But most stop before they're ten."

For some reason, she can't stay astride me for the rest of this conversation, though she nestles against my side, and gently instructs, "Go on."

"Long after I came here, the nightmares hounded me. A recurring dream was the glowing tip of a cigarette, moving towards me out of the blackness. Just like in real life, that image would make me piss myself with fear. I presume that Grace and Carrick always knew, but I'd sneak downstairs, and launder the sheets in the middle of the night, thinking no one would find out." When she's quiet long enough to worry me, I suggest, "Maybe I should stop telling you this stuff."

She caresses my chest, saying, "No, I'm okay. I want to know everything about you. Are you still afraid of cigarettes?"

"Fortunately, they're rare enough nowadays that my reaction hasn't been tested in quite a while, but I don't feel terrified anymore. I told Ros that I don't want her smoking near me, and that's all she knows."

"Ros smokes?"

"Yeah. I guess she hadn't yet ducked outside, or you would have smelled it on her. Even that smell is a bit of a trigger for me. How did you two get along? I saw that you were chatting for a while."

"She's lovely. Gwen too. You told Ros about Little Blip?"

Fuck, if Ros mentioned that, then, "My loquacious colleague reveal anything else that I told her, in confidence?"

"Maybe."

I hold her a little tighter, and gently demand, "What, exactly, did she say?"

"That you're stepping down as CEO. That's it. For some reason, she thought that's something you might mention to your fiancée, and mother of your child."

"Anastasia, snide doesn't suit you." She accepts this criticism in silence, so I explain, "I was going to sort out the details in my head, and then tell you. I honestly only thought of it yesterday, while hiking back to you. I want to...I guess it's stay-at-home Dad?"

"What? You want do all the feedings and diapers, and stuff?"

She sounds incredulous. "It can't be that hard. Even the bitch who birthed me managed that much of the task."

Ana presses her palm against my chest, and begs, "Please don't talk about her like that."

She sounds sincere. "All right. But, if you're waiting for me to forgive her, you'll be waiting a long time."

"I know. Are you sure about this?"

"Stepping back, and handing the reins to Ros? Hell, yes. I'll have more time for you right now, and more time for our child later."

"So, what will you do, during the day, before Blip joins us?"

"The handover will take a while, and I'll still have some input into GEH, but it can mostly be done from home. Plus, I can devote more time to my charity work, here and abroad, which I've long wanted to do. Other than that, I presume quite a bit of my time will initially be consumed by implementing every single scenario in your journal."

She giggles, and says, "I'd like that." And then she sighs, saying, "Enough for now. Let's get some sleep."

I'm not tired. Not with everything that's happened. But I shut up, and caress her towards sleep, before remembering, "Oh, what did you say to Elena, to make her slap you?"

I feel Ana smile against my shoulder, and then she says, "I thanked her."

"Thanked her?"

"She was between me and the door, and saying all kinds of stuff, trying to get a rise out of me. Maybe she was hoping I'd attack her, so she could run to you...or maybe she's just unhinged. Anyway, she screeched at me something about teaching you everything you know, so I smiled, and thanked her. I've noticed that bullies don't like being smiled at."

"Evidently not. You know I'm done with her now, right?"

"I assumed so, but thank you, for making it clear. And right now, you need to say something nice to me, so I can have pleasant dreams."

I search my thoughts for a moment, and settle on, "I've been thinking, our new home has a lot of rooms."

"Hmm?"

"How about we fill them?"

"With children?"

"Yeah." When she doesn't reply, I continue, "We can make more, if you wish. Or adopt. Maybe just foster kids forever, if you'd prefer. I was only in a foster home for a few months, and it was my first glimpse of what a loving family looks like. What do you think?" She snuggles closer against me, and I feel the moisture on my chest. I kiss her forehead and command, "Sweet dreams, Anastasia."

I wake to firm hands on my breasts, and a relentless tongue on my clitoris. Just the knowledge that Christian is enacting a scene from my journal pushes me over the edge, and I clutch at him as I pulse through a white-hot orgasm. He chuckles, and says, "Morning, baby." I'm sitting up, to thoroughly thank him, when the nausea hits, so I instead lie still and reach for the bottle of water. When I notice that the bedside table is different, I remember that we're still at Bellevue. I wave away his apology, when he says, "Shit, I'm sorry. I forgot."

I feel him leave the bed, and then a dry cracker is in my hand. Soon, I'm well enough to say, "Thank you, and thank you."

"Better?"

"Much." There's not a sound outside this room, so it must still be early. "Come back to bed."

We're soon snuggling, and he asks, "Was that what you had in mind?"

I smile, and tell him the truth. "Better than what was in my mind, but then everything is with you."

He kisses my forehead, and says, "Back at you. We might as well have breakfast here, but what would you like to do, after we get home?"

"Aren't the removalists due today?"

"Yes, but you don't need to supervise. All your stuff will be put into storage."

I genuinely don't remember that discussion. "When did I agree to that?"

"Well, you didn't. But it makes sense, right? You haven't needed any of your old stuff, since moving in. I don't intend to steal it. You'll have sole access to the storage locker."

"Christian, you can't keep deciding stuff for me."

"Why are you angry?"

"I'm not...well, not very. I know this is how you've always done things. But you also keep telling me that you don't want to erase my identity. I'm pretty sure that arbitrarily making decisions about my life breaks that promise."

He's quiet for a few seconds, and then says, "All right. I'll work on it. Any other complaints?"

I notice how tense my muscles were, when they now relax. "No. Thank you. And, other than attend to Blip's needs, I don't have plans for the day. Do you?"

"I was thinking, a haircut?"

"Sure you trust me to do it?"

He laughs, and says, "No. Trust me to trim your wilderness? If you want to feel the beard, I'd best do some pruning."

Ready for my second orgasm of the day, I ask, "Why is that so sexy?"

"Probably because you're imagining that I'd immediately want to test whether you can better feel me."

"I am now."

"Right, then we'd better have breakfast. I don't want you puking on my head."

"Oh, Christian, can we get married soon?"

"You've worked out what you want?"

"Well, no. I just want the world to know that you're off the market, before any more of your exes try to come between us."

"What have you heard?" He sounds scared.

"Heard? How would I..." And then I guess, "You've heard something." When he says nothing, I plead, "Talk to me."

He sighs, and runs a hand through his hair, to explain, "If a Crystal Stubbes manages to get around the team, call me, immediately."

"She wanted more?"

"She didn't get past the interview." I'm still trying to work out what that means, when he explains, "I'd arrange to meet prospective candidates, on neutral ground. If that went well, we'd negotiate a contract, and begin a trial. On paper, she seemed okay. But it was immediately evident that she's unwell. You understand the term 'passive aggressive'?"

It's about the only part of what he's just said that makes any sense at all. "Yes."

"That's her. She seems amiable, but would have been a nightmare as a sub. I could have handled her, maybe even helped her. But she needs a therapist, not a Dom."

"So, what is she saying?"

"Nothing. Just lies. It's okay, baby. Anyone who ever knew me will recognize that it's bullshit. Our lawyers are on it. She'll back down soon enough."

"Then why are you worried?"

After another sigh, he says, "Because I don't want what we have polluted by my past, and it seems to keep fucking happening. I just wish that I could erase it all."

"I don't. Every choice you ever made, led you to that moment when we met. I'd rather you had never suffered, but even that helped make you the only man I could ever imagine falling in love with."

"Yeah, I guess. But I'm still sorry."

"Hey, it's okay. You're not to blame for anyone else's actions. And, if it comes to that, I'm pretty sure I can handle one passive aggressive reject."

He manages a light laugh, and kisses my hand, before saying, "No doubt. Come on, let's have breakfast, while we plan our wedding."

It's already shaping up to be a very good day.

Christian and I have barely started breakfast when Carrick joins us, alone. And I wonder if Grace is sulking. When I ask after her, he reveals that she's merely sleeping in. Something about the way he says it reminds me that I heard her singing before the party wrapped up, and slurring the words. I guess that her youngest son isn't the only Grey who uses alcohol as a coping mechanism. No one mentions last night's drama, and Christian seems keen to leave after breakfast. In the car, I think to ask, "Are you hiding from your mother?"

He laughs, and says, "Not actually, but I'm content to avoid her for a while. Apparently, her friend's fondness for kink is well known, though rarely discussed."

"Oh. She worked out that you subbed for Elena?"

"Yeah, though not that I turned the tables for a while."

And then I realize, "So, she knows that you and I...?"

"Aren't quite vanilla? Yeah. Though I think she's under the impression that you're the dominant partner. I was too embarrassed to enlighten her."

The image I see is of him blushing, and it's adorable. I resist the urge to torture him with it, saying, "Then I'm happy to avoid her for a few days too, and might never again look her in the eye."

"Same. It was even more painful than the birds and the bees' speech, which was about as graphic as you'd expect from a medical professional."

I lean against him, and say, "Let's just forget about it for now."

He kisses my forehead, and says, "Good plan."

At some point during our blissful Sunday, the memory of Friday's close call fades enough that I can tolerate Christian being more than an arm's length away. Which is just as well, because his study swallows him whole for a few hours. It occurs to me that—beyond Kate's article, and a little sneaky research since—I still have no idea what he does for a living. I did ask, but was none the wiser when he merely replied, "Make money." Picturing Christian Grey in his element perhaps predictably means my mind wanders back to sex. He told me where he's stored the journal, so I find it and make an addition, my body warm with pleasure just writing it down.

I was so nervous about showing him the journal, worried that my desires would pale in comparison to what he's shared with seemingly countless other women. But I'm now very glad I got brave enough to trust him. I always am. My next thought really tests my courage. Could I sub for him, outside the red room, even for a little while? The idea both terrifies and excites me. I've spent so long fighting everyone who ever cared about me, for every scrap of my independence. Mom was bad, Dad was worse. Even my friends took forever to stop hovering, with Jac being the one exception. Oh, I forgot to add him and Louis to my wedding guest list.

I'm rectifying that omission when my phone chimes a message alert, as Christian enters the bedroom, saying, "Details of your prospective trainer. Claude isn't qualified, or confident enough, to train a pregnant woman, so he recommended Julia. If he's happy with her, you will be too. Still, you asked that I seek your input first."

I tap my lips, and he obliges with a lingering kiss. "Thank you, darling."

His arms are caressing my back, and he says, "So, this is how it's going to be from now on? I do whatever you ask, and you look at me with your please-fuck-me-now eyes?"

I laugh, and say, "Yes, that's exactly how it's going to be, for as long as we both shall live. Speaking of which, I owe you an orgasm, and I've made an addition to the journal. Do you have time?"

When I see his head move, I wonder if his gaze just swiveled to where the journal is hidden. "I really don't."

I beckon him closer. When his face is close enough that I can feel his warmth, I whisper, "Don't worry, I'll be quick. Just give me five minutes head start."

He groans, and crushes me to him, saying, "Fuck, Ana, I really would do anything for you." And then he releases me, musing, "I'm very glad you're not the type to take advantage of it."

"Christian, I wouldn't have made it past the interview stage, if I were that type."

"True. Okay, baby, five minutes."

I'm soon in place beneath Christian's desk. I have to clasp my hands over my mouth to stifle a giggle when I hear him enter the room. For some reason, he doesn't go to his chair, instead stopping in front of his desk, and I hear papers rustling above my head. Maybe he misunderstood. I reach out, and soon encounter his ankle, making him jump. And Taylor says, "Ms. Steele?"

Oh, fuck.

My brain has not yet returned to me, when Christian asks, "Taylor?"

"Uh, the...uh, new roster for this week."

"Thank you. That'll be all."

I can hear that Taylor is already heading for the door, when he merely says, "Sir."