A/N: Thank you for your kind reviews. I hope you like the new chapter. Have a nice weekend! x

Trial of the Senses

by

Ava LeBeau

Chapter 13 – Careful what you wish for

So, Christian would pick her up. At seven.

Anastasia was staring at her screen, not sure what to make of this.

She hadn't answered yet, unsure if she should leave it at that or rather set conditions.

Jack Hyde had retreated to his office.

He had placed his phone down on his cluttered desk and switched it to speaker mode, reclining back in his chair with his hands behind his head, his broad chest puffed out while he loudly discussed a book release, of course he was making sure that everyone would hear him.

Anastasia rolled her eyes but soon enough her attention was back with Christian or rather his e-mail.

Sighing she wrote, nimble fingers ghosting across the keyboard,

Okay, thank you, Christian.

But we are only talking and that is it.

With a small smile on her face Anastasia clicked send and reached for her tea mug.

Only talking.

Only talking?

I stared down at the phone in disbelief.

The woman was driving me crazy and not in the way that I would have preferred.

But Flynn's words came to my mind, I would have to take it slow.

Talking sure wasn't my favorite pastime when it came to Anastasia but for the time being it would have to do.

My mother called, in need of more prizes for the auction at her charity ball, so I offered my house in Aspen for a week's stay. Grace was delighted, praising my generosity.

„Make sure you bring Anastasia, Christian. She's such a pleasant young lady. I'm so glad that the two of you are together."

I frowned, here I was, pressed for answers yet again.

„Mhmm.", I uttered, making sure that mother heard Andrea in the background calling my attention to my next appointment, unwilling to unnecessarily prolong this conversation.

Grace, ever so considerate when it came to my time, ended the call soon after, not without telling me again what a lovely young woman Anastasia was and that I should treat her well and with utmost respect.

It was harder than she thought to make it look like you hadn't put the slightest thought into your outfit at all and look cute at the same time without being too revealing.

Anastasia turned in front of the mirror, looking at her reflection from all angles, wondering how Kate managed to always get it right and effortlessly so.

She had used Kate's lip gloss but she hated the sticky consistency on her lips which is why she was now desperately looking for a tissue to wipe off the nasty stuff.

It was almost seven.

Anastasia would see him again.

Christian.

Christian Grey.

Those butterflies in her stomach, back with a vengeance all of a sudden, were fluttering frantically at the very thought of him.

She knew that he was bad for her, but the more she tried to convince herself to forget about him, the more she wanted him back in her life.

Biting her lip Anastasia stared at her reflection in the mirror, plucking at her ponytail again.

They would only visit José's exhibition, she tried to calm herself. Only talking. Trivial smalltalk.

No holding hands. No kissing. No red room of pain. No sex. Nothing.

She was sure she could do this. She wouldn't cave. He was not good for her and he desired things she wasn't able to give him. Yes, there was no way back and she wouldn't be convinced otherwise.

Grabbing her purse on her way out Anastasia hurried downstairs, knowing just how much Christian hated it to be kept waiting.

One hand casually resting on the steering wheel, I glanced at my watch, it was past seven already and I frowned.

I felt rather tense, more than I would have liked, yet it was nothing a glass of Pouilly Fumé or maybe two wouldn't have taken care of but it was a long drive to Portland and I wanted to make a good impression on her.

A wave of frustration washed over me and parts of me wanted to make the Audi's engine roar in neutral just to let her know, actually to let everybody know that I was here. Kept waiting like a fool.

I let out an annoyed sigh.

Leaning over slightly I looked at her house, my eyes narrow as I observed the entrance, my fingertips drumming against the intricately hand sewn leather that was covering the steering wheel. It was a nervous beat.

She wouldn't dare to stand me up, would she?

Before I could give that further thought the front door swung open.

Anastasia.

My insides clenched when I saw her.

No skirt, no dress. A pair of jeans instead. Not what I would have preferred for her to wear tonight. But then again we were about to meet that José guy and we wouldn't want him to get his hopes up, would we? Smart girl, Anastasia. Very smart girl.

I smirked.

Her expression was unreadable, her cheeks slightly flushed while she was tucking at the hem of her white t-shirt almost acting as if she hadn't seen me yet.

I reached over to the passenger side to open the door for her.

„Hi", she piped, the sound of her voice sending a delicious heat up the back of my neck.

„Good evening, Ana."

Too formal!

I watched her slide into the passenger seat, placing her purse neatly onto her lap before pulling the door shut.

I leaned in closer, trying to kiss her, but she expertly avoided my lips, turning away in a fluid move to reach for her seat belt.

Damn!

I clenched my fist and cleared my throat indignantly.

Take it slow, Grey.

„Where's Taylor?", her voice came again, she sounded somewhat anxious.

„In the SUV right behind us.", I pointed back over my shoulder with my thumb before I moved to start the engine.

„I see.", Anastasia stated quietly.

Of course I had decided to take the R8, only two seats meant more time alone with her with nobody listening in.

I pulled away and steered the Audi towards the highway to Portland.

Anastasia sat beside him, neither of them spoke for long stretches of the drive.

At one point she had almost dozed off, yet the incessant roaring of the sport car's engine as well as the stiff sports suspension of the car made sure to thwart one's sweetest dreams and keep you awake.

It had been a long day, she had got up early to be able to leave on time.

Jack Hyde had been none too pleased when she had informed him, that she would have to go at five.

Looking flawlessly like you didn't give a damn about the way you look takes time, but how was Jack to know anything about all this anyway.

Lately, Jack's mood had been rather volatile.

Whilst being irritable the whole day he had been rather sweet when she said had goodbye for the day.

She had felt his eyes on her when she made the way down the corridor towards the exit in the afternoon.

Anastasia was convinced that Christian would raise hell if he knew.

Listening to some operetta she didn't know that was filling the interior of the sports car she looked down at her hands.

She hated smalltalk and didn't know what to say.

From the corner of her eye she saw Christian, staring straight ahead, focused on the street, while the surroundings flew by, as usual he was speeding.

When the GPS finally guided them through the warren of narrow alleys and side streets in downtown Portland and towards the art gallery, Christian reached across and rested his hand on her knee.

„Christian, please!", Anastasia warned even though she was yearning for more by now, his touch so irresistible.

„Relax.", he grumbled and pulled his hand away.

On their way into the gallery, Christian's hand came to rest against the small of her back, it was a gentle touch to guide Anastasia in the right direction.

Anastasia however was relieved that he couldn't see her face.

She had closed her eyes for a moment, struggling to maintain her composure, to look unfazed, licking her lips when she felt his palm against her, the warmth and soft pressure making her wish she could feel his hands all over her body.

The drive to Portland had been awkward, the silence painful to say the least. But I had never been good at smalltalk.

I was walking right behind Anastasia which granted me a perfect view of her pert behind.

Oh, the things that I would do to that ass.

Take it slow, Grey.

I scolded myself and condemned my wish that we could just go back to normal, whatever normal meant under these circumstances.

Nothing in my life was normal or ordinary. Far from it.

My fingertips brushed against the small of her back, the white t-shirt that she was wearing.

I would do anything to kiss her, to touch her. Just one last time.

The mere thought of her soft, creamy skin underneath the fabric made my cock twitch to attention.

But soon enough I would have to face the ultimate cockblock.

Her childhood friend, the self-professed artist, José.

Little did I know that there was even worse for me in stall, circumstances that would have an even more sobering effect on me than the sleazy José Rodriguez himself lusting after what was mine, yes, lusting after Anastasia.

Inside we were greeted cordially and served a glass of wine.

I offered to take Anastasia's jacket. She declined, not without giving me a small smile, lowering her eyes ever so teasingly.

Right from the moment on that we had entered the gallery people were staring at us.

I was of course used to it and while I was very protective of my privacy I was a man who was often standing in the public eye, on the covers of magazines, in interviews, you name it.

Anastasia on the other hand seemed somewhat confused, struggling to act as if she didn't care. I watched her over the rim of my glass when I took a sip of the wine, she was toying nervously with the stem of her glass, biting that luscious lower lip.

The woman sure was driving me wild.

Much to my regret my hands were tied figuratively, keeping me from taking care of the 'situation' at hand due to, how would my lawyer phrase it? Due to the current ambiguity regarding our relationship or whatever you would like to call what was going on between the two of us.

„Shall we?", I raised my eyebrows and nodded towards the adjacent show room.

„Sure." Anastasia smiled one of her irresistible smiles and we made our way into the main room, turning more heads.

„Oh my god", Anastasia clasped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.

Several Anastasias were smiling back at her from the surrounding walls, the pictures floor-to-ceiling at height.

Other guests of the vernissage were staring at her, whispering, but Anastasia only searched for Christian's gaze.

A muscle in his jaw twitched and his chiseled features seemed tense, his eyes were flickering feverishly.

„I'll be right back.", he touched her forearm lightly, patting the front of his jacket for his wallet with his free hand.

Anastasia nodded slowly, pressing her lips together, arms folded in front of her chest as she tried hard to avoid the gaze of the bystanders while Christian made his way towards the front desk.

I stowed my Stratus card back into my wallet and returned to the show room, utterly pleased with myself.

I had made sure that they would would take the pictures down from the walls immediately. All of them. They would be delivered to Escala in the next few days.

Welch would have a lot of explaining to do in the morning.

I looked around, trying to find Anastasia, and noticed a cluster of people in the middle of the room.

In the midst of it I spotted Anastasia and José, worse even, he had wrapped his arm tightly around her waist.

Both were smiling and joking with the people around them.

It seemed like Rodriguez was giving an interview of some sort while several photos were taken.

Rodriguez the center of attention. With Anastasia in his arms.

A growl escaped me when her hand came to rest against José's chest while she kissed his cheek.

Enough!

Hellbent on vengeance I made my way through the crowd, wincing whenever somebody touched me. The things I would do for her.

I glared at Rodriguez who was absentmindedly stroking Anastasia's upper arm, his arm around her shoulder now, while both were still speaking with the reporter, beaming at the cameras whenever there were more pictures taken.

When I reached Ana the reporter said „Well, I didn't know you have such high profile friends, Mister Rodriguez."

With that the reporter turned her attention to me.

Friends? My ass! Actually my fist would love to make friends with his face. Repeatedly.

I managed a strained smile, never the paragon of politeness, usually rather extremely direct, to the point of arrogance, and condescending towards others. The flashlights of the cameras were dazzling me momentarily and I raised my hand to make them stop. Taylor was nowhere to be seen.

„Mister Grey, it is Mister Rodriguez' first art show. Guests have told us that they are impressed by his talent, the precision, his eye for the perfect motive. As a known connoisseur of fine contemporary art what do you like best about his pictures?"

„José has outstanding talent."

I may vomit.

„I admire his aesthetic taste when it comes to his motives." Anastasia's and my gaze met for a moment.

You are mine!

„So this is what has you drawn to his pictures.", the reporter piped.

I nodded casually.

„Word has it you have bought several of his artworks tonight."

„Maybe.", I forced myself to smile again.

„Now, if you will excuse us. We have to go.", I reached for Anastasia's wrist and pulled her towards me.

„Rodriguez.", I nodded my goodbye, engulfed in another sea of flashlights.

"Christian!", Anastasia's free hand wrapped itself around my wrist on our way out.

"Let's go and have dinner. I'm famished.", I stated fleetingly, not letting go of her. "Also, we need to talk."

I moved to open the Audi's passenger door for her, holding out my hand to help her, before I told Taylor that we would have dinner.

"Do you know Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique, Anastasia?", I continued my monologue, my expression gloomy as we sped through the darkness.

"The composition is perfect for a huge orchestra." I pointed out while the sepulchral sound of the Fifth Movement created an eerie atmosphere in the car.

"The story is actually sort of autobiographical. In it we learn of an artist's self-destructive passion for a beautiful woman.", I let out a husky, humorless chuckle while I was wondering what it would take for Rodriguez to throw himself off a cliff and be gone once and for all.

„The symphony describes the artist's obsession, his visions of suicide and murder, all his ecstasy and despair.", I side-glanced at her, knowing full well that she would feel my burning gaze on her features.

Yes, we had talked.

For quite a while.

And I had, for lack of a better word, demeaned myself to make a proposition regarding our future.

Her answer was still sitting heavily on my stomach, a good deal more than the rather underwhelming steak I had had at the restaurant while Anastasia had picked at her Quinoa salad, an anguished expression on her face.

She had told me, that she needed time. Time to think about everything. Time to think about us.

That muscle in my jaw twitched again while we reached the outskirts of Seattle.

Be careful what you wish for.

A/N: Thank you for reading. Looking forward to your reviews.