Chapter Eleven

Monday is so busy that Christian is home before me, and waiting in the foyer. He takes my briefcase, and greets me with a kiss, before saying, "I've been getting compliments all day on my haircut, thank you."

Trying not to smile, I lie, "Same. They're very impressed with the trim you gave my wilderness."

I have time to imagine flames, before his arms are around me, and he warmly accuses, "Wicked woman."

"Your wicked woman." I caress his growing beard, asking, "And what do they think of this?"

He brushes it along my jawline, and says, "Apparently, it makes me look older, so I should have done it ages ago. As you can imagine, I had a lot of trouble proving myself as a baby-faced college dropout."

That reminds me. "Christian, what do you do, for a living?"

He laughs, and says, "I told you, make money."

"I'm serious."

"So am I. First, it was telecommunications. I saw a hole in the market, and filled it. Since then, it's whatever will quickly turn a profit, without ruining lives. Maybe it's because I'm damaged, but I seem to have a knack for recognizing companies that could do better, with a minimum of outlay."

"Darling, please don't talk about yourself like that."

"Damaged?"

"Yes."

He's quiet for a few seconds, and then says, "All right. It's becoming less true the longer we spend together anyway. I've killed your mood, haven't I?"

Only then do I notice that my posture has changed. Usually, when I'm in his arms, my body molds to his, but my distress meant that I'm currently barely touching him. Unsure how he feels about that, I merely say, "For now."

He releases me, instead holding one of my hands to escort me into the apartment, as he says, "Well, that should cure me of negative thoughts very quickly."

And I'm back to horny, because he's being so nice, but I have other needs. "When's dinner?"

"Gail suggests twenty minutes?"

"I thought she's 'Mrs. Jones' to you?"

"Seems you've cured me of that, too. I no longer think of them as just employees anymore."

"Okay, now I'm in the mood for sex." I hear the briefcase drop to the floor, and then my back is against the wall, and he's kissing me, one hand cradling my head, the other pushing my skirt up over my hip. When there's enough room between us, I gasp a laugh, and say, "I didn't mean right this second, but okay."

His hands still, and he says, "No, you're right. You and Blip need dinner. But you must know what it does to me when you tease me."

"Yes."

"So you'll keep doing it."

Carefree, I vow, "Yes."

He's again guiding me forward, when he says, "Then I cannot imagine ever tiring of you." When I've stopped, he does too, and asks, "Ana?"

"Flynn told you."

"Baby, even if I asked, Flynn wouldn't reveal what you discussed with him. You're genuinely worried that I'll tire of you?"

I shrug, and say, "Not a complaint, but all we seem to do is have sex. That can't be something that endures. I enjoy being with you, whatever we're doing, but your hobbies and mine don't exactly align."

"You have hobbies?"

I manage a small laugh, and say, "Well, no, other than reading, and previously judo. Which kind of supports my argument."

He caresses the side of my face for a moment, and asks, "When you're reading, and I'm somewhere nearby, how does that feel?"

I hadn't actually thought about it, but can truthfully say, "Good, like...I can't explain it, but it feels better than when we're apart."

"It's the same for me. You're my comfortable and safe too. Even when I'm at work, just knowing that I'll see you in the evening improves my day. I'm pretty sure that's something that endures. I see it with Grace and Carrick."

"Have you always been so formal with your family?"

He chuckles, and asks, "Have you changed the subject?"

"Not deliberately. And you've made your point very well, thank you. Not much I can do about the future anyway, so I might as well enjoy all the yummy sex while it lasts."

His arms are again around me, and his erection against me, when he asks, "Yummy, huh?"

My hunger for him is rapidly catching up with my hunger for food. "Oh, yes."

He sounds further away, when he says, "Right, let's eat, so we can have more yummy sex later."

It will suffice.

Dinner is, as usual, delicious, so I'm consumed by consuming for a while, and Christian comments, "I really do like you pregnant."

I presume he's talking about my increased appetite, and say, "Don't get used to it. I barely ate before meeting you."

"Guess I'll just have to keep you knocked up then."

He's joking, but it reminds me, "So, how many are you thinking?"

"You want to have more kids of our own?"

"One more, at least. Mostly, it sucked being an only child. After that, the fostering idea sounds good. They'd be lucky kids, to have you as even a temporary father figure."

"And you, as a mother figure. I can't believe you ever doubted that."

I roll my eyes, and point out, "That's exactly how I feel about your doubts." He's quiet long enough that I ask, "Christian?"

"Just reining in a shade."

I can guess which one—Dominant Christian—and an answering fire stirs within me, as I ask, "Because I rolled my eyes?"

"Yeah. It's okay. I don't actually mind. It's just echoes of who I used to be."

"It is rude though. I'll try not to do it."

"Well, now I owe you a reward."

We haven't actually bothered much with the reward system, probably because we're getting better at compromising. But I know what we need. "Cable ties."

"What?"

Damn, he sounds more scared than expected. I put my cutlery down, and attempt, "Darling, Millar's not gone. It's looking like he'll make bail. You know he can't get near me. But I'm still scared, and I don't like it. I think, if you can make my fear fun, we won't be so afraid anymore."

"You think I could bind you with cable ties? There's no fucking way I could do that without picturing his face. And they leave a mark, Ana. It's not an option."

I cannot hear even a tiny chink in his armor. "Okay. Come up with something else."

"Maybe later." We eat in silence for a while, and then he says, "Who told you?"

"That he'll probably make bail? I worked it out." Not actually a lie, but not the whole truth. I don't want to get Taylor in trouble. "You keep telling me I'm smart, but somehow seem to think I'll stay in the dark, just because you'd prefer it that way."

"Why are you angry?'

Am I? Taking a moment, to examine my feelings, I explain, "I guess, because it seems that, if it were up to you, I'd be the last person to know about any developments in the case, and it's more my concern than yours. Plus, a woman asked for me at work today, though obviously didn't get past Sawyer, and I only found out because a colleague mentioned it, assuming that I already knew." When he says nothing, I prompt, "Was it that Stubbes woman?"

It sounds like his jaw barely relaxes enough to grind out, "No."

"It was an ex though? Andy said she looked a little like me, but with longer hair."

"Who the fuck is Andy?"

"Perhaps you know him better as Andrew Leigh. I presume that's his name in Welch's files."

"Ana, I don't want a fight."

"Not fighting, conversing."

"Then lose the tone."

This, rather predictably, fuels my anger. But his anxiety seems to rise with any sign of distress from me, so I take a calming breath, and explain, "I just really don't like it when you keep stuff from me. I'm probably going to find out anyway, and it'll be less stressful for both of us if you stop doing that."

"I said that I'll try, and that's what I'm doing."

"Are you able to answer questions, without one of your shades taking over?"

He sighs, and says, "Let's find out."

"Thank you. So, she is an ex?"

"Susannah Griggs. She was with me for almost two years, and no doubt wondering what the hell you have that she doesn't."

It might be relief, that we've avoided an argument, but I laugh, and then admit, "I wouldn't have been able to enlighten her."

"Same. I know that every single thing is different with you...better with you, but I've no idea why."

"Do you think she's a danger to me?"

"No, baby. I would hardly have been with her so long if she were capable of that."

It's going so well, that I ask, "How's Scorpion Lady today?"

After only a moment, he says, "Still in Portland. I presume she's staying close to her lover, hoping he makes bail."

"And, is there any word back about Charlie Tango yet?"

"No. If it was deliberate, I doubt she had anything to do with it. Nothing showed up in the pre-flight checks, and subtle isn't her style."

"So, Linc?"

"More likely a hireling. You seriously want all this shit in your head?"

"Of course not, but I don't want it only in yours. If it's us against the world, we've got a much better chance together."

"Yeah, okay. This wasn't as bad as I expected. You're amazing."

"I was just thinking that about you. But we're back to cable ties."

"No. Ask Taylor." My shock must be evident on my face, because he laughs, and says, "Not like that. Ask him to show you how to get out of them, and other bonds. He suggested that we prepare for the worst, but I couldn't fucking face the idea of...anyway, you're both right. We need to increase your chances of survival, if millions of dollars in security proves insufficient."

Millions? "I'm becoming your most expensive hobby, aren't I?"

He chuckles, and says, "Well, you're also the most fun, so I don't mind. We're okay?"

"Yes, darling. We always were." And then I realize why he might equate heated debate with fighting. "Do Grace and Carrick not fight?"

"I presume they occasionally disagree. But, no, I've never known them to argue. If they do, it's not where any of us could see or hear it."

"Oh. Do you think, if we really work on this conversing thing, we'll be able to offer our kids that courtesy?"

I'm sure he's trying not to smile, when he says, "Not if they take after their mother. She's got quite a temper."

Tuesday afternoon, Christian messages me, at work, 'Remember to submit your leave application. We're running out of time.'

I thought we'd resolved this. Apparently not. 'I haven't yet earned vacation days.'

'Like I said, your application will be approved.' I'd assumed he was joking about that.

'It won't, because I'm not applying. I'll see you tonight.' I'm glad that I bothered with the earpiece, because "Your Love Is King" is now playing in my ear. Vigilant for the sound of Wendy's door opening, I accept the call with a noncommittal, "Christian."

"You don't want a honeymoon?"

Oh, God, he's pouting. Breathing some semblance of control into my traitorous body, I remind him, "I just want my fiancée to stay out of my career, as promised. And we talked about this; if we get married on the Friday, we'll have three whole days together."

"Three weeks would be better."

He's being childish. "Too bad."

After a moment, he says, "You know, I could just approve the leave without your application."

"No doubt." He'd better not test me on this. I'd rather find a new job than have him run roughshod all over this one.

There's a longer pause, and he eventually says, "Okay, Ana, you win. Where would you like to spend our seventy-two hours?"

"I don't care, so long as we're ostensibly alone. Escala is fine."

"What about Aspen? It's only a couple of hours away, if we take the jet. I'll still owe you four days, but at least you'd get some of your money's worth."

I breathe a sigh of relief, and say, "Your money. But that sounds lovely. Thank you, darling."

"Okay, I'll make the arrangements. Until tonight, Anastasia."

"Until tonight, Christian."

I almost jump off my chair, when Wendy asks, "Everything okay, Ana?"

I haven't been game to ask how she feels about personal calls at work. "Uh, just some final touches to wedding plans."

"I haven't received any special orders concerning you, so I presume he's staying out of your way?"

I gesture to my phone, saying, "We're a work in progress."

She laughs, and says, "Isn't everyone? How'd you go with the Trilby manuscript?"

Taking a moment to recall where I put it, I hand it to her, saying, "My notes are on top. It's good. Though the author really needs a pseudonym."

"Agreed, though it probably is already. That's one of the things virgin authors usually get wrong, but it's not our concern. Look, Ana, I'm really pleased with your work so far. Would you like to sit in on the next editor's meeting? It'll give you an idea of how things work, beyond my desk."

"Uh, I'd love to, thank you. You really think I'm ready?"

"It'd be as an observer, Ana. I'm not offering you my job."

Her tone suggests that she's more amused than upset, but I still blush, saying, "Of course not. I just...I guess that I'm getting paranoid about Christian's potential influence, but I don't think you'd bow to pressure like that."

"I wouldn't. There are other publishing houses."

"We'd be looking together. The only benefit I want from being his partner is him."

"I believe you. When's the wedding?"

Wondering why she's asking, I trust her enough to reveal, "Friday week. For obvious reasons, we're keeping it quiet."

"If you leave early that day, I won't set bloodhounds on your trail. I know you'll make up the time."

"Thank you. I might just take you up on that."

"Okay, well, we'd better get back to it. Oh, and keep the personal calls to a minimum, okay?"

I can hear that she's again teasing, but nevertheless mean it when I say, "Yes, boss."

Thursday evening, I arrive home from another busy day at UPP, to an apparently empty apartment. If Christian is busy, Taylor would normally be here, to carry my briefcase to my desk. More confused than alarmed, I'm heading towards the library, when I receive a message. 'Red room, 10 minutes.'

Looks like my fiancée is in a playful mood this evening. I consider stripping first, but Taylor will be somewhere in the building, and I don't want to risk another mortifying encounter. So I merely stow my briefcase and handbag, kick off my shoes, and head upstairs. I'm barely inside the room when an iron band encircles my waist, even as a hand clamps over my mouth, and Christian purrs, "If you don't tap out, I'll fuck you when we're done."

This is a new game. Obviously, I can't speak, but I nod my consent, as best I'm able. He lifts me, and walks me further into the room. There's a moment of terror, when he suddenly throws me, but of course I land on the bed. Without a word, he flips me onto my belly, and binds my hands behind my back, with what feels like soft rope. Still silent, he ties my ankles together, and then pulls them back, joining them to my bound hands. Next, he gags me, with soft fabric. I'm confused by the fact that he hasn't removed any of my clothing, but still turned on. And then he says "Laters, baby," and is gone from me. I'm wondering why, when I hear the door shut, and then the lock clicking into place.

What the hell is going on? There is not a sound, except my elevated breathing. And then I understand. This isn't the cable ties I requested, but it is a scenario that might happen if our enemies ever get to me. He's once again being what I need, as only Christian Grey can. I've had a few lessons with Taylor, on how to escape bonds, but we didn't cover this particular scenario. Plus, he explained how to tense my muscles beforehand, to have a better chance of success. With Dominant Christian in charge, that hadn't even occurred to me, and I'm sure he knew that. I can't sense him, but he might still be in here. At the very least, he'll be somehow viewing this, for my safety. So I roll onto my belly, and offer him my middle finger.

Other than to flip me off, when she realized what experiment I've chosen for tonight, Ana has merely been intent on escaping. And it's soon evident that she's absorbed Taylor's lessons. I don't know why remote viewing never occurred to me before; it's sexy as hell watching her. But maybe it wouldn't have had that effect with any of the other women, because they're not Anastasia. Even after removing the gag, she hasn't spoken, so it's hard to tell what she's feeling, though she doesn't appear distressed. It was difficult to leave her, but I'm glad that I got brave enough, because we'll both be less afraid as her skills increase. She's now free, and tests the door, even though she must have heard it lock. And then she feels her way across the room, to the chest of drawers. On the way, she finds the webcam. For a moment, all I can see is her middle finger, and then the feed cuts out.

Filled with love and admiration, I head upstairs, so that I can hear if she needs me. By the time I'm leaning against the wall across from the door, I can hear Ana fiddling with the lock, and I'm curious what tool she's using. A credit card wouldn't work, not from the inside, and she didn't have her purse anyway. It seems only seconds later that the door opens, to reveal a rather disheveled Ana, her face flushed from effort, and eyes wide with excitement or anger. Unsure how she currently feels about me, I merely say, "Hey, baby."

I can't see what's in her hand, when she draws back to throw something to me, but I manage to catch it, and look down to see a mangled piece of wire, as she says, "You're out one nipple clamp."

I stow it in my pocket, and merely ask, "Too much?"

She shakes her head, saying, "Well, it wasn't fun. You might have warned me."

If anyone gets close enough to abduct her, "They won't."

This appears to calm her a little, and she agrees, "No, they won't." And then she sighs, before saying, "I was angry with you."

Noticing the past tense, I ask, "No longer?"

"Not enough to need space. You were just doing what I asked. Did you enjoy the show?"

"More than I expected. You're amazing." And then something occurs to me, that might heal any lingering resentment she has for me. "Want to call the shots, for the rest of the evening?"

She ponders this for a few seconds, and then asks, "What limits?"

I silently run through the most terrifying options, and settle for, "Uh, I'm still not ready for a proper blindfold. And maybe nothing on the torso, if I'm bound."

She visibly recoils in shock, before asking, "You want me to bind you?"

"I don't need it, but I'm sure it will prove pleasurable, if you're doing the binding."

She takes another deep breath, and says, "Well, right now, all Blip and I want is food."

My anxiety rising, at the chance of rejection, I need to ask, "Could you tolerate my touch right now?" She merely nods, her mouth a thin line of tension. I start with a caress on the outside of her arms, and soon enfold her in an embrace. A thrill goes through me when she reciprocates, her hands gliding up my back, and I ask, "It wasn't too stressful for you?"

"No. Mostly, I was just pissed off because I thought you were promising sex. But I'm okay now. It was probably more stressful for you, having to leave me like that. Thank you, darling."

And I am yet again her slave.

During dinner, Ana reveals, "Oh, Wendy says I can finish early, for the wedding."

"You told her the day?"

"Yes. You know she'll keep it to herself."

I'm getting better at trusting, but this sudden cold dread in the pit of my stomach proves that I need to keep working on it. "Yeah, I guess."

"And you know that it's probably going to leak anyway."

I need a deep breath, before finding the courage to admit, "So Welch says."

"I'm not scared." When I say nothing, Ana continues, "You think it's because I don't know the dangers."

That's exactly what I'd been thinking, but I merely say, "It'll be fine. We'll have a small army protecting us on the day. No one will get to you."

"That only makes it more difficult to get to us, not impossible. I'm not afraid of dying, Christian. Death is jumping into a black hole, not knowing what's there. I've already done that. Even then, I was more scared of being alone. If I'm with you, I won't be afraid."

I shake my head, in an effort to free my thoughts, and manage, "Fuck, Ana, you're terrifying."

She smiles, and remembers, "Because I make you want to test your limits?"

Surprisingly, I feel no fear, when I acknowledge the simple truth, "Because, when it's just the two of us, I'm no longer sure that I have any."

Her smile is serene, when she places her knife and fork on her almost empty plate, and commands, "Let's go test that theory."