Chapter 17
Playroom
Thank you all for your patience's PM's and reviews. Live has hectic at the moment. My boyfriend and I are currently looking for another house since our current house has numerous issues. I want this part of the story done in February. After that, I will finish Twin Flames before I start on part II of this one.
Anastasia
Three years ago, I was a freshman in college. I was so young, free and innocent back then. I was excited about all the classes I was going to take. I remember entering my very first psychology class. I felt electrified and eagerly absorbed every ounce of information offered. I recall one assignment we got during the first week of classes. It was called Who are you? At first, I thought it was a stupid question. Of course, I knew who I was! However, when I read the assignment in more detail I found the question confronting because for the first time in my life I not only had to think about who I was but why I thought I was like that. For the first time, I really had to think about who I was. I came to the conclusion that although I was shy, clumsy, plain, and awkward, I was actually a nice and good person. I was pretty happy being me. Now, that time and those feelings feel like a lifetime ago.
I hate myself for being a weak coward, unable to come to terms with the new reality of my existence, let alone tell anyone about it. I can still hear my mom's sweet voice ringing in my ear asking me what was wrong. It was only yesterday since I last saw her, but it feels much longer, everything does. My mind drifts off back to yesterday evening.
"Anastasia please tell me are you really happy with Christian? I mean, don't take this the wrong way, I know he is all kinds of handsome and rich but... You seem so, I don't know, quiet." My mother's scrutinizing gaze is harsh under the halogen lights of the restaurant restroom where he took us out for dinner.
I feel exposed and scared at the same time. Mom always knew when something was up with me. But I balk I cannot tell her what he is doing with me. It will kill her and Ray. I look up and smile at her.
"No, everything is fine. Christian is great. I am just very tired and jetlagged from the flight." I lie.
She sighs and redoes her lipstick.
"He seems kind and is very charming. And I will forever be grateful for what he has done for you father. But... I don't know... there is just something about him…" She looks at me and gives me a wry smile. "You must think I am a silly old woman rambling like that. Look baby girl if you are happy then I am happy. Just know that your father and I will always be there for you."
Her words cut right through my soul and I wanted nothing more than to cry and breakdown. Of course, mom could see right through me, she always does. I wanted to tell her everything he had done to me. But I just couldn't. I saw how merciless and cruel he was. If I were to tell them everything and they would confront him, he would destroy them too in a heartbeat. I could not let that happen. I could live with what he was doing to me but I could never live with him destroying my family because of me.
No, I needed to carry this burden alone. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it lightly.
"I know. Thank you, mom, for being here for me. But please don't worry about me ok? I am fine."
I close my eyes and rest my head against the car window pushing the memory from my mind. Normally I would look out the window, curious and excited about the road ahead, and the changing landscapes. Now, I am not caring an ounce about my new destination. It does not matter anyway. I am already lost.
"We're here." His baritone voice that has become so familiar in such a short time rings through the car pulling me from my reverie.
I open my eyes and stare out the window. We have stopped in front of a magnificent Edwardian or Victorian mansion, secluded between dense woods and a large open meadow field. It is something straight from the English classics. The meadow is making me feel homesick for some reason, and I know I would have really loved it in different circumstances. Right now it feels and looks like another prison.
The car door opens and I climb out of the Audi. The smell and sound of brackish water fill my senses.
"Come." He commands again while grabbing my hand. He leads me to the front of the door where a blond woman in her late thirties or early forties is waiting for us. She is wearing a black and white standard maid's attire and she is smiling broadly at the bastard.
"Good afternoon Mr. Grey." She says happily.
"Gail." He says warmly and squeezes her arm in greeting. "Anastasia, I would like for you to meet Gail, Mrs. Jones, my housekeeper. Anything you need you can ask her."
"Nice to meet you." I mutter and shake her hand.
"Pleased to meet you too, Miss Steele." She replies kindly.
"Well let's get inside so I can show you around. This place is new to me too. I bought and had it remodeled a few months back." He says nonchalantly and ushers me inside the house.
My eyes nearly bulge out of my sockets when I study the large hallway with two beautiful spiraling mahogany staircases. The floor is made from black and white checkered tiles, and a huge window in the back wall gives a stunning panoramic view over the water. I wonder where we are exactly. The entire atmosphere of the house is somehow sturdy and serene. It is a strange paradigm because I feel anything but sturdy and serene here, with him.
"The Sound. The view over the water, it's the Puget Sound." He answers my unspoken question.
"Oh," I reply softly.
"Come; let me show you the rest of the house." He pulls my arm and I dutifully follow him through the door on the right side of the hallway.
We enter another beautifully decorated room. A large white U-shaped couch stands in front of a big baroque fireplace. A black grand piano stands in front of the panoramic window, and various work of arts hang on the walls.
"This is the living room. Do you like it?" He asks taking me by surprise. Why would he care if I like it or not?
"It looks nice." I mutter and he smiles at me.
"I am happy that you like it. I would hate for you to dislike this place since you will be living here for six months." He explains.
I shrug not knowing what to say.
"Come; let's go to the next room." He says and drags me to another room.
I am stunned when we enter the library. This is something else. The room is round and large, and full of books from the ground to the ceiling, with a big round glass dome set on top of the ceiling. My hands idly skim over the books; they are all first editions. I thought the library at his place in Italy was big, but this is something else.
"I figured you like books, being an English lit student, so I thought this would be the room for you. If you want you can work here." He says and points at the mahogany desk in the center.
"It's beautiful." I reply perplexed.
"I thought you might like it."
I stroll around the library a little more, wanting to read every book that is in here. I hardly notice that he is still behind me. I feel his arms slip over my waist pulling me against him.
"I am glad that I can make you happy like this." He whispers huskily in my ear and kisses me on the cheek. "Come, there is much more to see."
After 30 minutes, he has shown me the entire ground floor. I am overwhelmed. I never realized just how big this place was. Next to the living room and the library, there is a sunroom, a swimming pool, a dining room, and a large kitchen.
"Come let me show you the top floor. The most important room of the house is there." He says his face impassive but his voice sounds almost ominous.
I follow him up the spiraling staircase to the second floor. He grabs my hand and almost drags me to the end of the hallway, stopping in front of a light wooden door. He opens it and escorts me into a large open space bedroom. There is a big bed standing in the middle and there is a bath on legs and a shower area on the right. A large blazing fire roars in the fireplace. The color scheme of the room is mostly crème and gray giving it a serene atmosphere.
"This is my bedroom. You will be spending time in here with me. But this is not the room that I want to show you." He walks into the walk-in closet and orders me to follow. He presses his hand on the wood paneling in the back, and a number pad appears. He quickly enters a code and a hidden door on the left of the closet opens. Fear and dread settle in my stomach. What the hell is he hiding in there?
He seems to notice my apprehension because his facial features soften somewhat. "Please keep an open mind. You know what I want from you, and you are familiar with BDSM. This room is just an extension of that."
He places his hand on my lower back and pushes me inside the room. A chill runs down my spine when I enter the room. It is round womb like with blood red walls, and the floor is a deep dark wood. A four-poster bed with red satin sheets dominates the room. In front of it, there is a leather chesterfield couch and in daunts on me that those two pieces of furniture are the only normal things in the room. The rest is filled with odd pieces of furniture like the gym like horse standing on the right side of the room. I involuntarily shiver at the sight of the various implements hanging on the walls. Whips, chains, floggers, belts, and canes. I recognize them from my brief research into BDSM. I swallow nervously, the thought of him using these objects on me is downright frightening.
The sound of a door closing startles me and I jump. I turn around and see him strolling at me casually, eyeing me like a predator watching his prey.
I wring my hands nervously, not wanting to look at him. I gasp when I see four huge pictures of myself hanging on the wall near the door. A myriad of questions fills my head. Where? Who? How? When?
"Your friend Mr. Rodriquez is quite talented. He made these pictures of you a few months back with the intent to show them to you at his very first expose. You are his muse, not surprisingly. My art dealer convinced him to sell them to her for me. I don't want other people ogling you. You are the finest piece of art that has ever been created, and you are for my eyes only."
He answers my unspoken questions and his answers scare the hell out of me. Suddenly this all makes perfect sense the job at GEH, the Italian trip it has all been a setup from the get-go. He has been stalking me all along! He has been planning this whole damn thing for a very long time.
"How long have you been stalking me? Tell me the truth. This whole thing was a setup from the get-go, wasn't it?" My voice is shaky from the anger I feel.
He looks surprised, even guilty, for a moment before his face morphs into a taut angry mask.
"I haven't been stalking you. I merely wanted to get to know the girl I met in Seventh Circle and used my resources to find her. All I wanted was to help you and I did just that. But you, you have been nothing but negative ever since we met again. Every little thing I do, you spin into some diabolical feat. Frankly, it is getting tiring. You will not speak to me the way you just did, especially not in this room. If you ever do it again I will cane the shit out of you, do you understand?" He hisses, his eyes are slits he is towering above me, and I feel the heat radiating from his body.
Gut wrenching fear is clawing at me, screaming at me to run far and hard. But rationally, I know it's pointless; he will find me and make my life even worse than it is. I do not doubt his promise on that.
"Answer me!" he snaps.
"Yes, Master." I mutter out sarcastically, fury still whirling inside me.
"Good. Now about this room. This is my playroom. We will be spending a lot of time in here. When I order you to go in here, you will do so in your bra, panties, and high heels. You will kneel at the door and wait for me to get in. You will follow each order I give you in here immediately without hesitation. You will never ever talk back to me in here. Is that clear?" He asks arching an eyebrow at me.
That asshole has one fucked up idea of BDSM. I remember the Dom I spoke to for my project telling me about the importance of safe words. This is it! this is how I stop him! Safe words are the foundation of BDSM. Hope wells in my chest.
"Perfectly. Just one question, what about my safe words? Should I use the standard Red and yellow?" I ask innocently.
He looks taken aback for a moment confusion marks his face. He is quiet for the longest time contemplating something before scraping his throat.
"No safe words. You do not get them yet. You need to earn them." He whispers out hoarsely.
I cannot believe what I am hearing. This is not BDSM, this is abuse! I am at a loss for words. This bad, really, really bad.
"If you really do not like something tell me after the scene and we can discuss it." He amends quickly.
"Safe words are essential for BDSM. I am nothing more than your slave. You use the guise of BDSM to abuse me. Just please stop the euphemisms and tell it like it really is." I spit out not able to control my rage.
"Enough! You know nothing of the lifestyle, stop acting like you are some expert. You should be grateful that I am making you earn your safe words. When I started doing this my dominatrix wouldn't dream of giving me any." He bristles out clearly rattled.
"I guess that she is even sicker than you are then." I mutter out softly before I can stop myself.
"I have had enough of your insolence!" He bellows furiously. My palms are sweaty and my whole body is shaking. This man is dangerous and unstable. I instinctively move a few steps away from him.
He furiously pulls at his hair and glares at me.
"I should cane the shit out of you for this. I really should. You deserve it. You keep insulting my mentor and me. You need to know your place. Maybe I should… No, not that..." His voice is harsh and commanding, but he doesn't look at me. Instead, he is pacing up and down the room. He seems withdrawn like he is talking more to himself than to me.
Suddenly he turns around and walks over to me, and in seconds I am stunned, nailed to the ground. He grabs my hands and pulls me roughly through the door out of the playroom back into the closet.
The doors of the playroom close with a whooshing sound but he pushes me out of the closet before I can look at it again.
"Next time I will cane you. I swear to god I will. You know you deserve it." He says threatening while pointing his long finger at me.
He roughly grabs my arm again and pulls me out of his room back into the hallway. He stops in front of the room closest to his and opens the door.
"This room is yours." He says and pushes me in unceremoniously. "You will stay here so you can reflect on your disrespectful behavior towards me." He says and slams the door shut in my face. I hear the clicking of a lock and a sense of dread settles in my stomach. He is locking me in here! Oh, God, nobody knows where I am, he could keep me locked in here forever.
I try to open the door but it won't budge. Of course, it wouldn't you idiot! I reprimand myself sternly.
"Don't bother. You won't get out unless I want you to, and right now I want you to think long and deep about your behavior
." He taunts through the door and I hear his footsteps move away from it. Asshole! I want to scream and curse at him but I just don't have any energy left. It is no use no matter what I do.
I sigh and look around. The room is large and beautifully decorated, soft pastels and fluffy pillows seem to be the theme here. A gray sleigh bed stands proudly in the middle of the room. I suppose it could have been worse. He could have caned me. I guess being locked in a luxurious room is the lesser of two evils.
I move around the room and find a spacious walk-in closet full of designer clothes. At the end of the closet, there is another door leading towards a bathroom with a big marble bathtub in the middle and two large showerheads on the right. This place is just as big as my entire apartment. I walk back to the bedroom and lay down on the bed. The color of the sky has burst out into a hue of blue, reds, and purples. I will never get over how beautiful the sunset looks. I feel drained and exhausted. I just want to close my eyes and forget about everything for just a little while.
A blood-cuddling scream fills my ears. I jolt up awake in a panic. Where am I? Right... his prison on the Sound… The room is plunged into a deep darkness and I quickly switch on the light on the nightstand, pushing the darkness away.
"Aaarghh." The ear piercing scream fills my ears again, and I realize it's him. I hear footsteps on the hallway and hushed voices speaking rapidly to each other. I hear a door open and moments later, I hear his panicky voice yell at the people I assume are in his room. Rapid footsteps echo through the hall again, I assume going back downstairs. What is going on? Why was he screaming like that? The small vindictive part of me cannot help but take delight in his pain. He deserves it for what he did to me. The other part of me cannot help but feel for him. He must have been really hurt in the past. However, right now, the vindictive part of me is overwhelming my senses and I hate myself for it. I don't want to become a bitter, hateful person. That is not who I am, but I'm afraid he will turn me into one, just like someone did to him.
The soft notes of the piano resound to the otherwise quiet house. The music is melancholic and disjointed. It is depressing. I turn around and try to tune out the sound, hoping that sleep finds me again. I don't know how long I am lying awake or how long he is playing, but it must be an eternity. The first light of dawn tentatively fills the room, the music still has not stopped. I realize my exercise in getting some sleep is pointless. I get out of bed and shower silently hoping he will let me out of the room today. I take a warm long shower in the overly large bathroom. The warm water is relaxing on my skin. I am mildly surprised when I see my usual body wash standing on the shower rack. I uncap the bottle; the familiar scent is comforting. I wash and stand a little longer under the large shower head before turning off the tap. I quickly dry myself and wrap myself in a towel. I move towards the closet in search for something to wear.
I am surprised when I see lingerie and an outfit displayed on the center table of the closet. When did he get in here? I really should not have been surprised he did this, though, the man is a control freak. For a brief moment, I contemplate on wearing something else just to spite him but after yesterday, I really fear his wrath. The man is unstable. I sigh and take the outfit before moving back to the bedroom. I quickly dress and walk to the door. Maybe he let it open so I can get out. I pull on the door handle but it won't budge. The bastard locked me in again. What if he really locks me in here for six months? Trepidation fills me. This is bad, really bad. I move towards the window to see if I can open them. They are locked just the like door. Fear and anxiety fill me. I won't be able to survive being locked in her for six months.
I feel so sad, hot tears stream down my cheeks again. It seems that all I can do lately is cry and I hate myself for it. I just don't know if I have the mental capacity of the energy anymore to stay strong. I feel if I break down now I will never be able to glue myself back together. But he has to let me out right? I still need to eat and work so he needs to let me out eventually.
There is a soft knock on the door and I hear the door unlock. I feel relieved and grateful happy that I don't have to spend the entire day in here. I don't like being locked up in a room. A bitter memory of mom and husband number three flashes through my mind briefly.
The door opens and the blonde woman, I believe her name is Mrs. Jones, comes in the room.
"Good morning Miss Steele I brought you some breakfast." She says politely.
All my hopes of being released from this room plummet at that one simple sentence. She puts the tray she is carrying down on the table near the fireplace, and quickly scurries back to the door leaving me alone again.
"Mrs. Jones please wait." I call after her. She stops and turns around looking nervously at me.
"Uhm, I would like to eat downstairs. I don't like being cooped up in this room all day." I try.
"I am sorry Miss Steele. Mr. Grey instructed me to bring your breakfast to your room. He feels it's best that you stay in here a little longer." She says apologetically.
"Has he said how long?" I know my voice sounds dejected but I cannot help myself.
"No, he hasn't. I am really sorry Miss Steele but I need to leave now." She quickly opens the door and locks it again before I can ask her another question. I feel so desolate like I am the only person left in the world. I miss my dad, my mom, Kate, Jose, and Jimmy. In two short weeks, my entire life has been turned upside down and inside out. It feels like he has sucked me into his dark world taking everything good and pure I had from me.
I feel so lost not knowing what to do next. "Don't break down Ana, don't break down." I just need to focus on the positive. He didn't beat me yesterday. That is something right?
The smell of bacon, toast, and eggs fill my nostrils it makes me nauseous. I crawl back in bed and watch the sunrise. Time moves slowly and I am bored out of my mind. I switch on the TV and channel surf a little. There is nothing on that interests me. There are some books in the bookcase. I take out Rebekah and begin to read. At noon, Mrs. Jones brings lunch but I am still not hungry. She encourages me to eat something and I am inwardly thankful for some human contact.
I try to eat something but I am simply not hungry. Night falls again and soon its dinnertime. I hope I can get out of the room now, at least have dinner downstairs. But that hope is soon dashed as Mrs. Jones brings once again my food to my room. I tell her I am not hungry and let her bring it back downstairs. I close my book and try to go back to sleep.
I jolt awake to the blood-curdling screams coming from the room beside my own. A chill runs down my spine and I cannot help but wonder what demons are haunting him. The voices are back on the hall again and I hear him yell loudly. Moments later the soft melancholic sounds of the piano echo through the house stealing my sleep from me again.
Time is a funny thing when you do not need it you have it in abundance, but when you need it desperately you are running out of it quickly. Time in this room seems to crawl by and is losing all relevance. I am not sure how many days have passed since he first locked me in here. Mrs. Jones still brings breakfast, lunch, and dinner each day, but now she isn't allowed to speak to me. Every day and every night it's the same. I am stuck in this hell and the only solace I have is that he is stuck in his own hell. The funny thing it's though, that right now I am so lonely I would do anything for a little human contact even if it's with him.
I found pencils and paper. I think it was two days ago but I am not sure. Time has blurred into a single monotone block without any distinctions between the days.
I always loved drawing and painting. I remember Miss Claire, my art teacher, telling me that I was quite talented when I was in 10th grade. It has been ages since I have drawn anything, not since husband number three. I have been drawing the meadow and trees I can see from my bedroom window.
I must have drawn the oak tree a hundred times and every time I'd draw it, new minute details emerge when I concentrate on the bark and branches. It's is a welcome distraction to the monochrome that I am stuck in, it helps me preserve what's left of my sanity. I cannot escape the irony of it all it's funny how he helped me rediscover a piece of myself I thought I lost years ago. I guess when enveloped in such dense darkness you cling to even the smallest little lights.
I put down the pencils and move to the bathroom to wash my hands that are smudged with coal from the gray pencil I have been using. I wipe my hands and move back to the bedroom, not knowing what to do next. I don't want to read again or watch TV. I just want to talk someone. This loneliness is slowly suffocating me.
"Good morning." His deeps baritone voice startles me. His is sitting on my bed going through my drawings with interest. I am momentarily shocked by the way he looks. He has a thick red beard and dark circles around his eyes. He looks haunted, like the hounds of hell have been chasing him. Something akin to pity stirs in my chest. It is an unwelcomed feeling.
"You are really very talented." He muses aloud.
"Thank you." I murmur back, remembering his rigid demand for decorum. I don't want to antagonize him and make him leave so I am forced to deal with loneliness and boredom again.
"Why did you stop?" He asks eyeing me sharply.
"My hands were dirty I needed to wash them." I reply perplexed.
"No, I mean why did you stop drawing until now?"
How does he know? This man's stalking truly knows no bounds. It is both baffling and scary. I am not going to tell him why I stopped drawing five years ago, the memories of that time are simply too painful.
I shrug nonchalantly.
"Lost interest I guess." I lie. The truth is that I couldn't see the beauty in things anymore after mom divorced Ray and was used as a punching bag by husband number three. It took me a while to get over that. It is strange that now in my deepest darkest moments I see the beauty in the smallest things again.
I even wonder sometimes what would have happened if things had been different, but I know it is a pointless exercise. Things are what they are and nothing we do can change the past.
He puts down the drawings and eyes me critically. I feel unnerved and exposed.
"It is a pity. I think every art academy would have welcomed you into their midst." He pauses for a moment and then continues. "Tomorrow is Monday and we both need to get back to work. You will drive with me and Taylor to work and finish your internship in the finance department. After that, you will be working for me directly. Every weekday we have breakfast at 7:30 and leave at 8:00 sharp. Is that clear?" he demands.
Monday? That means that I have been locked in here for five whole days! Somehow it feels much longer. I want to scream at him, demand to know why he did this to me but I do not dare. What if he decides to lock me in here longer? For the first time, I am actually happy to go back to work at GEH again.
"Yes, Master."
"That reminds me. Drop the master. I want you to call me Christian when we are home and Mr. Grey at the office. Like I told you before, we need to make our relationship more… personable." He gets up from the bed and moves to the door. Fear grips me. What if he locks me in all day again?
'Mas... I mean Christian. I was wondering if I could get some books from the library. I promise I won't get in your way. You won't even see me. I just don't want to be cooped up again all day. Please, Christian?" I hate to beg, but the thought of being locked in here another day is unbearable.
He nods at me.
"I will leave the door open. You are not allowed to venture outside, not without security." He says sternly and turns around on his heel, leaving me alone again.
Relief floods through me and I quickly put on my shoes and almost run out of the room. The large house is empty except for a maid I haven't seen before who is cleaning the hallway. She looks up surprised when she sees me and greets me politely. I want to talk to her some more but she excuses herself and quickly scurries off in the direction of the kitchen.
I make my way to the library and almost bump into the large pool table in the middle of the room. Was this in here the first time I was here? It makes me feel homesick somehow. Jose and I used to play pool for hours on the weekend. He taught me how to play well. It was something I had always been very proud of, but now it seems all like it was a different world. My fingers glide over the polished wood of the pool table, it's smooth and cold to the touch. I linger on it a moment longer before moving to the ceiling high bookcases. I do not intend to read anything; I just want to look at all these magnificent pieces of literature wondering how the authors of these stories went through life.
Soon, I am lost in all these different stories and time went on the fast track again. There is a small knock on the door of the library. I didn't think I closed the door.
"Miss Steele, dinner is ready and Mr. Grey has requested you join him." Mrs. Jones announces without preamble.
"Oh, ok... coming." I hadn't realized it was after six already. I follow her to the large dining room where he is already seated.
"I would like to remind you that dinner is always at six Anastasia. You are 5 minutes late." He scolds me.
"I am sorry." I stammer.
"Sit down, here next to me." He commands brusquely.
I hate that I follow his orders like a lost little puppy but I do not want to start an argument with him. I always end up getting the short end of the stick.
"My mother is organizing a charity ball next week. You will come with me as my date." He orders like is the most normal thing in the world. I want to tell him no but I know that will inevitably will turn into a fight. The loss of my autonomy is pretty much the worse thing about this entire experience.
"Yes, Christian." I reply dutifully.
"Good, and I want you to spend the night with me tonight." He orders brusquely and I desperately try to swallow down a painful lump that has formed in my throat. I was hoping that he wouldn't, not for a little while. It makes me angry, really angry that I don't have a say in any of this. I cannot hold the lid on it any longer.
"Why did you lock me up for five days?" I ask him.
He holds his fork up mid-air his eyes are wide almost frightened.
"Because I needed time to think about everything you said to me. I was afraid I would hurt you beyond what you could take… I was angry, really angry with you." He replies, shocking me and I don't know how to form a coherent response.
The rest of dinner goes by quietly and he excuses himself soon after desert, reminding me that he wants me in his bed by ten. I want to tell him fuck you! So badly but I refrain.
Ten o'clock came much too soon. I dressed in my pajamas and crawled under his covers. Maybe if I acted like I was asleep he wouldn't try anything. I keep hoping against my better judgment. The bedroom opens and he strides in. He doesn't say anything but takes off his trousers and shirt and crawls into the bed with me.
"Good night Anastasia." He says pulls me against him and turns of the bedroom light plunging us into darkness.
I half expect him to initiate sex but nothing happens. I hear his soft even breathing in my ear and I know he has fallen asleep almost instantly holding me into a vice like grip. I close my eyes hoping that sleep will find me soon as well.
I wake up feeling overheated and sweaty. I have no idea how long I have been sleeping but I feel thirsty. I can't get up because his legs and are entwined with mine. I pry myself away from his grasp and go in search of a glass of water. The tiles of the bathroom floor are cold on my feet. It is a welcome change from the stiffening heat I just felt. I take a cup from the cabinet and fill it with water. The cool water is refreshing and I simply stand there enjoying it.
"AAAAARRRGGH." blood-curdling scream fills the silent evening air. "Oh, god not again." I quickly move to the bedroom and see him violently thrashing on the bed. His facial expression looks so pained and tortured its heart wrenching. I stand there at a loss not knowing what to do. It is like I am nailed to the spot I am standing on.
The door opens and Mrs. Jones and Mr. Taylor hurry in.
"Mr. Grey sir. Please wake up. It is ok everything is ok nobody is going to hurt." Mrs. Jones gently whispers to him like calming a wounded animal and I guess in a way she is. She softly nudges him and he wakes up with a jolt breathlessly.
His eyes are wild unfocused and his chest is heaving; he looks like a madman.
"She was gone, she was gone, she was gone. She ran from me she always runs from me." He whispers pained.
"It's ok Mr. Grey everything is ok. Here." She says sweetly and offers him some water. He takes it and drinks it quickly.
He looks around the room and sees me standing near the closet entrance. He looks shaken and haunted.
"Where did you go! I told you to stay with me tonight." He hisses.
"I, I just wanted a glass of water. I was thirsty." I murmur apologetically.
"You should have woken me and asked me to get you some. From now on make sure you have a bottle of water on your nightstand when you sleep here." He growls out angrily.
I am angry, confused, and intrigued at the same time. Why is he making such a big deal out this? It was just a glass of water. This man is a mystery. What happened to him that he is having these nightmares? I remember a colleague of my dad's once when he was in the army. He had nightmares multiple times a week from his tours in the gulf wars. PTSD is what my dad called it. Maybe Christian has the same thing?
"Taylor, Mrs. Jones you can both go back to bed. Anastasia come, back to bed. It's late." He growls out.
I move back into the bed and he quickly wraps his arms around me, pulling me close to him. I feel his nose in my neck and his hand pressing down on my stomach.
"Don't leave me." I think I hear him softly murmur but I am not sure. My mind is a jumbled mess and my emotions are all over the place. I have no idea what to do with this entire situation. I close my eyes and try to sleep so I do not have to think about everything for a few short hours.
The car glides into the Seattle morning traffic. We are both quiet, lost in our own worlds. We have not talked about what happened last night, and I don't particularly have the energy to do so. Taylor drives the car into the underground parking garage at Grey House and we get out of the car.
"I want you to have lunch with me at 12:30. Sawyer will escort you to finance. If you need anything call me on this number and I will have it arranged." He says while putting down his phone number on my iPhone.
"Yes, Mr. Grey."
"Good, have a nice day Anastasia." He says, not unkindly, and quickly moves to his private elevator near his parking spot.
"Are you ready to go Miss. Steele?" Sawyer asks and I nod at him. We take the elevator up to the 18th floor where the finance department is located.
"I think I can find my own desk, Mr. Sawyer." I murmur embarrassed to be followed around by a man the size of a house.
He gives me an apologetic smile. "Just making sure you reach your desk without injury. The boss would have a fit if I wasn't doing my job and you sustained a paper cut." He jokes but I do not find it funny.
I feel everyone on the floor looking at me and I can hear then whispering behind my back. Do they know I stole from Grey? Is that way there are gossiping? I feel nervous and uncomfortable. Suddenly, I want to give anything to be back in the now familiar safety of my room at the house on the Sound. Maybe coming to work wasn't such a good idea after all.
"I have a bone to grind with you, Annie Steele. Why didn't you tell me? I thought we were friends!" Emily says hurt and exasperated confounding me.
"Tell you what? I am sorry Emily but I have no idea what you are talking about." I say bemused.
"Oh, come on Ana don't insult my intelligence. Tell me everything about you and Grey it's all over the news everyone is talking about it." She spits out excitedly.
"Seriously Em, what about me and Grey? He is my boss. I have honestly no idea what's going on." I am exasperated. Grey would never tell anyone about the sick relationship we are in, would he? Bile rises in my throat. What if he did tell people? The thought is horrifying.
Emily rolls her eyes at me and takes out here phone.
"Look." She says and shoves it under my face.
Christian Grey the world's most eligible bachelor has finally been snatched up.
Rhonda Rhodes reporting
Last week, we here at TMZ got some very reliable intel. Several eye witnesses saw the world hottest businessman being very intimate with a gorgeous brunette. Of course, we set out to investigate and found these exclusive images of the two love birds staying at the four seasons in Boston MA. We have identified the woman as Anastasia Steele, a 20-year-old college student from Vancouver who is currently an intern at GEH.
It looks like this is going to be a hot and heavy office romance…
I stop reading the article and stare open-mouthed at the camera images that are played in a loop. This must come from the security cameras at the hotel in Boston. I see myself standing next to him while he has his arm wrapped around my waist, ushering me inside the hotel lobby where he lets go of my waist and takes my hand, pulling me towards the elevator where he pulled me close to him. I am stunned completely speechless.
"He is not my boyfriend. He took me to see my father who is being treated for cancer in Boston. He made a stop in Boston just so I could see him. He was very compassionate and understanding." I say lamely.
Emily looks apologetically.
"I am sorry Ana I didn't know I thought..."
"It's ok I haven't told many people." I don't want to make her feel bad especially since she isn't far from the truth.
"Is he going to be ok?" she inquires genuinely concerned.
"The doctor is optimistic about his chances of recovery." It's one bright light in this otherwise perpetual darkness. Suddenly, I am overwhelmed with emotions, this is all too much. Tears threaten to spill again and I hate it. I cried so much these past months.
"Are you alright?" Emily asked concerned.
"Yeah, just need a quick restroom break." I lie and quickly scurry off so she won't see me crying. Nobody can help me out of this gigantic shit pile. I feel my phone buzz nonstop in my purse and take it out. I have a dozen missed calls from Kate, Jose, and Jimmy. They probably all called to inquire about my relationship status. I don't want to talk to them right now. I just need a moment for myself and gather my senses. I quickly enter a restroom stall and let the tears fall freely.
I hear two women's voices from outside the stall talking animatedly to each other.
"You know what one of the other interns I think her name is Kylie told me?" One of the women asks.
"No, spill the beans Jenna don't keep me in suspense! I want to know how that little nobody snatched up one of the hottest and richest guys on the planet. I mean she is way out of his league. Some poor simple-minded coed that couldn't even afford college tuition. Ugh!"
"OMG Kelly that is exactly what I thought! So this Kylie girl told me that Grey really hated on her last month. He told her she dressed like a skank."
"Yeah, I heard that it went all over the building. She is a tasteless hussy if you ask me."
"Well, this Kylie girl thinks that the Steele girl has serious money issues and earns some extra cash by whoring herself out. I think Grey just wanted a quick fuck and paid her for it." The girl named Jenna says.
The tears won't stop falling. My entire body hurts; hearing people talk about me like that is so painful. I feel so alone and isolated I want to run, run for away from everybody and everything. I feel sick my stomach clenches and before I know it I am emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet seat. The taste in my mouth is disgusting. They continue the gossip but I tune them out. I need to protect myself against these vile bitches. I should have said something to them tell them how wrong they are, and Kylie, that pathetic bitch; I just want to smack her. I am not going to be pushed around anymore I am done crying. I get out of the stall and quickly wash my mouth and dry my eyes and reapply my makeup.
I straighten the gray pencil skirt that I am wearing and move back to my desk.
"Miss Steele, Mr. Grey wants to see you now." Mr. Miller my boss says brusquely.
Of course, he would have seen the video too.
"Yes, sir." He rolls his eyes and moves back into his office slamming the door with a bang startling me. Well so much for mending my working relationship with Mr. Miller. I sigh and take the elevator to the 20th floor.
"You can go right in Miss Steele. Mr. Grey is expecting you." His assistant, I think her name is Andrea, says.
"Thank you." I reply and open the heavy wooden door to his office. He is on the phone yelling at someone and doesn't look up when I get in. There is another dark haired man sitting in front of his desk he smiles kindly at me when he sees me. I have seen him before at the introduction meeting we had when I started my internship at GEH.
"Miss Steele. I am Sam Massey. Head of PR at GEH."
"Hello." I reply and shake his outstretched hand.
Mr. Grey turns his attention to us he looks furious. "Let's get to work Massey, that's what I am paying you for." He snaps angrily at Mr. Massey. He turns his attention to me "Anastasia please sit down. Are you alright?" He asks his tone of voice much milder now.
"A little shaken." I murmur.
"Do you need anything?"
"No, I am fine. Thank you, sir." I lie.
"Good. Massey start talking." He snaps again.
"Yes, certainly sir." Mr. Massey replies and scrapes his throat. "I am sure you have been made aware of the fact that you and Mr. Grey were videotaped during your trip to Boston and it has made headlines."
"Yes, a friend showed me." I whisper hoarsely.
"It must have been quite a shock for you been splattered all over the internet and front pages." He says sympathetically.
"What did you tell your friend about our relationship?" Mr. Grey asks coolly.
"I told her you brought me to Boston after our business trip to see my dad. I didn't tell her about our… arrangement." He narrows his eyes at me and I know he is mad.
"Well, since you will be my official date to my mother's function. I think it's best if I put out a press release confirming our... relationship. Sam here agrees." He says pointedly stressing the word relationship.
My stomach plummets the thought is horrifying. Him telling the world and my parents is making everything real and definitive somehow. Something I never wanted to be. I guess a part of me still has not accepted the situation that I am in.
If this becomes public knowledge, the last bit of control I have over my life would disappear. Work here at GEH would become even more unbearable. All those vile bitches would make my life even more miserable and he would lock me up in that house for sure.
"No." I manage to get out. "No, I don't want people to know." I need to stand up for myself now or he will railroad me again. I stare at him defiantly.
"Sam. You are dismissed." He says callously and stares at me, fire blazing his quicksilver eyes. I should be scared of him but for some reason, I am beyond that now. I am done being a punching bag like my mother was to husband number three. It is time to stand up for me.
