A/N: Proposals

Christian proposes, Ana counters. She's always driven a harder bargain.

"Is this the calm before the storm? Does he think he can get her to obey? He still believes he is in control or can control anything? What is Ana thinking? Is her fear getting in the way of rational thought? Certainly there are options smarter than marriage at this point." —Your #1 fan Vvn_Noel

Yes, they're totally experiencing the calm before pandemonium. And it's Christian; despite a mountain of evidence to the contrary, he has full confidence that he's in complete command of their circumstances. You'll see what Ana's thinking in this chapter.

"So we are back to Ana being spineless and weak and taking him back..how can she trust him? She will be 100% dependent on him and he will have even more control over her than before because now she can't leave, she cant see l, can't wipe her her own a**, can't see everything he is hiding and lying to her about." —Maddie (Guest)

It's like you don't trust me at all. I love STRONG Anas. All of her agreement is tentative and hypothetical. Christian is the only one considering this a done deal.

And Carol222, I completely agree that Christian is lovebombing the heck out of Ana right now. For those of you who've never been introduced to the concept of the lovebomb, it's an explosion of love that drops and comes out of nowhere. If you have to ask yourself why someone loves you, you might be a victim of lovebombing. It's the profusion of enough red flags to make a carpet.

Ways to Recognize LoveBombers - via The Zoe Report (TZR)

• They Overcommunicate

• They Want All Your Time And Attention

• They Do (Many) Over-The-Top Gestures

• They Push For Physical Intimacy Quickly

• They Will Want Commitment Right Away

• They Will Be Upset If You Want To Slow Things Down

Inspiration Song(s): The Cranberries - Linger

"Mawwige is whut bwings us togevveh today."

APoV

What are you thinking? I admonished myself. Tying yourself up with this crazy beautiful man. He has you not knowing if you're coming or going. Are you depressed, is that it?

I already knew he'd take care of all of my material concerns, we didn't need marriage for that. I was looking down the barrel of an entirely different life now. Romance, love, and sex must take a backseat right now. My priorities had been totally realigned.

I had to get it in gear. But just having him in the room discombobulated me. I couldn't think straight. It might be his smell. I didn't know. It was part of the reason I made him keep so far away. When he came too close to me, I lost my mind. That was why I needed him to back off. His pheromones were that powerful.

And what about the bitch troll, Mrs Robinson? I wasn't in the position to demand she leave so that he had no more contact with her. I never wanted to be that woman, that insecure person making ultimatums. It was something that would have to happen organically; he'd have to see it for himself. She was far too entrenched. Not only did she have him convinced she had his best interests at heart, she was best friends with his mother, too! I supposed I'd simply have to avoid her the best I could. But why sign up for that kind of trauma and stress if I could avoid it?

What seemed like minutes went by, but even I knew that Christian's patience would soon come to an end. I already felt a bit drained from our interaction. I'm just so tired lately, and these persistent headaches didn't help a bit.

I rarely received calls but, when I did, I couldn't hear them because the ringer was turned all the way down. Even with the low volume, the sound of the phone was irritating. A nurse had to field any calls. Though I wished I could see Ray today, I sent him home because I knew he needed to catch up on his work. Besides, the last thing I wanted was for him to volunteer to take care of me as an invalid. At least Christian has staff.

Did it make me look like a gold-digger that I'd be willing to marry him? Everyone else would think so. How could they not? All the advantages were on his side and all the disadvantages on mine. Actually, with my sudden loss of sight, we've been thrown even further out of balance.

He was partially doing this out of guilt, I'm sure. But unlike before, this time he does bear some direct culpability. And I could not let him off the hook. It would be cutting off my nose to spite my face, and with my loss of sight, I couldn't afford any added disfigurement. I could've died. I'm sure I did die, I was just revived before the techs called it. Everyone has been telling me how "lucky" I was, and I grit my teeth every time. Some consolation! Then again, "unlucky" was lying in the morgue.

Christian was paying money hand over fist to make Kate and Ethan's apartment habitable again. I no longer considered myself a resident. The kinder Ana would've taken Kate's standoffishness as fear of losing me, but the reality was that she's more concerned about what my blindness would mean for her. It had already inconvenienced her by cutting short her vacation fuckfest. The few times we'd spoken since she came to visit me left me no doubts on that score.

Because I was the "victim" no-one has focused on Kate being a target, even though her room was also vandalized. However, I was at ground zero and Leila was almost as outraged at her as she was with me. I was just the fortunate beneficiary of her dual fury, literally taking one for the team. Besides, there's no effing way I'd ever want to room with Kate again, knowing what I know now. I'm generally a live and let live type of person, but her shit makes Christian look like a choirboy.

Though Christian has proved quite capable of self-deception, I don't believe he would outright lie to me; deceive me, yes, understate a situation, but he wouldn't put all his money on the line to trick me, so I tentatively agree. Besides, is he really up for this challenge? This whole situation could be rendered moot.

"First things first," I ventured briskly. "I'll need an attorney, not Carrick or anyone who works for you, to represent my interests. Jose has pledged the proceeds of his art show for my medical expenses, and I really want to reimburse him. If you're picking up the tab. OK?"

"Yes, I'll get right on that," he replied. "I'll take care of you. We don't need his coins."

I took exception to that. He had no idea how talented Jose is. I'm sure his photos would rake in thousands. Like the Trouton frames in Christian's office, that raised ordinary objects to the extraordinary, Jose's portraits elevated the already extraordinary to the ethereal. His landscapes were so beautiful, they virtually transported the viewer to their locales.

You could practically smell the wildflowers, feel the grass underfoot, the breeze in your face. Even the water, frozen within the frame, seemed to have movement. He has a tremendous gift. One day, they'll display his photos in museums. I really hate that his dad insisted he take another major to hedge his bets. He should've supported his dream to attend art school.

Still, it took hard work over years for him to compile enough work to build his portfolio and select all the pieces that would form his own show. He had decided to offer both landscapes and candids. I was a little flustered when he asked permission to exhibit his photos of me. I'd had no idea he'd taken so many, and that he considered them good enough to display.

He jokingly informed me I was his muse. So, after he faithfully promised not to present images of me with food between my teeth or suffering a wardrobe malfunction, I bashfully signed on the dotted line. Still, I never intended for him to sacrifice all of his hard work for me.

I really wished Christian would slow down as I oriented myself to this new reality, but he was convinced that marriage of all things was the answer. Who knows, maybe he has more in common with Carla than he thought; she believed marriage was the answer for everything, too.

I didn't think he realized I also had my own ideas of what marriage should be. That I wouldn't be content to stay locked up in his tower to become an expensive paperweight. What security would marriage give me that a carefully drafted legal agreement couldn't provide? We didn't have to be wedlocked for him to take care of my medical needs.

As it was, I've been wondering if I'd have to check into some kind of assisted living community. What I needed was a helper like Mary Poppins combined with Helen Keller. Oh, and a seeing-eye dog. I could really do nothing for myself at this point. Even the bit of things I owned were so damaged and jostled that I wouldn't know how to find anything, even if I was willing to return to our Pike Place apartment.

Speaking of which, "Christian!" I gasped.

"What is it?" Christian answered anxiouxly, worried perhaps that I was in pain. I was always in pain now. It was barely worth reporting at this point.

"The apartment. My room. Your jacket! You left it. It still has a copy of the contract in it if Leila didn't get to it first. It was on the floor. It was no longer on the hook on the back of my door," I replied fearfully. I didn't want anyone to see that travesty of a document that delineated all that nasty shit he intended to do to me. It remained in his jacket, still awaiting my signature. Had Leila not burst into my life, it'd have remained there until it was consumed by moths.

"What!" he exclaimed. I'm sure he didn't want people to see that crap either. He had a vested interest in his jacket containing that paperwork never seeing the light of day. He's fortunate the police wouldn't need to catalog my belongings. It's not as if they'd be able to bring her to destroying all our possessions. But Kate! Kate would be nosey enough to rifle through the wreckage if she sniffed out a great story.

"Fuck!" he growled. "How could you have been so irresponsible?" he accused.

"What? You're blaming me because you left your shit in my room? It's not as if I had a safe to store it in," I retorted. Or an incinerator to burn it, I thought snidely.

I could hear him pulling out his phone. "Taylor!" he barked. "What happened to all the things removed from the Kavanagh apartment?"

He was hm-ing and making grunts of agreement. "Great," he finally replied. "I need you to make a grid of the things from Ana's room. See if you can locate my blue jacket."

After, I guessed, some acknowledgement from Taylor, he abruptly ended the call.

"Good news," he reported. "The police left your apartment as is, and our guys just collected everything to get it out of the way for the remodel."

I felt a lump in my throat as I heard him talking about my belongings that his crazy ex-whore had reduced to detritus. She'd come, bringing her tornado into my life, upending everything in her wake. How could any of this be termed good? I wanted to slap him.

"So, since that's taken care of," I began after lightly clearing my throat. "It'd be great if you could get the paperwork ready so I don't have to worry about debt collectors chasing me with torches and pitchforks. I only managed to hold a job for a day."

I stopped at that because I felt the tears coming. I'd almost believed I had run out. SIP was supposed to be a fresh start of my "adult" life. Instead, I had an extremely miserable first day that literally ended with a bang.

I didn't want to sound greedy, but I could almost hear the dings of the cash register as my expenses piled up. My student loan debt was nothing compared to the amounts I've already racked up since I've been in the hospital. Though I planned to sue the super and building association, it could be months before I saw any proceeds from that.

I felt somewhat guilty, as the real, main culprit is pacing in this room. The super wouldn't have believed her had she not known enough about me to be convincing, not to mention, resembled me enough to be the sister she purported to be. And that's all on Christian.

I was silly even humoring him in his marriage quest. Confined to this bed day after day, I'm going stir-crazy. Why couldn't I fall in love with a normal person? A regular guy with a 9-to-5 and a 401k without a seraglio of batshit crazy exes? Is this Fate's punishment for holding my v-card so long? Were my lucky numbers expired?

I knew this would come to nothing when his guilt receded and he realized I couldn't be his one-woman harem. But I went along because deep down, I wanted the fairy tale, though I knew it's impossible. But I fantasized nonetheless. It was one of the only pleasant things I could "see" right now. This or nightmares of Leila beating the dogshit out of me.

His crazy-in-love bitch had had the strength of a dozen men. Sparring with Dad had nothing on fighting for my life. Heck, Three hadn't hit me half as hard and he was much larger. I wondered if I only won because of luck. I knew luck favored the prepared, but I didn't even realize she was a possibility.

Christian was muttering something about the arrangements he needed to make, but I could barely keep my eyes open. What did I know about this financial crap? He took my hand gently, sliding something around my finger. String? He pressed his lips against my knuckles then my forehead, whispering goodnight before he left the room.