Author's Note: Congratulations to those of you who guessed correctly. But just to be clear, maybe this is a spoiler, but let me just put it out there anyway: there is no BDSM in this story... just alluding to it, but not actually doing it. I was surprised that a couple of people guessed marriage, which also happened the last time I posted this story. Really? No.
Also, remember that this is fiction, so cures for diseases like ALS that don't exist yet can in our imaginary world. I don't want to take that lightly, though. It is a horrible disease, and the hope and quality of life that Raymond Steele is going to find in this story doesn't exist for people really suffering with it.
I also don't want to take lightly the mental processing that Christian goes through in this chapter and the next. In case you're worried, this story is A&C HEA. You can now predict how this part of the story is going to turn out. But he is serious about doing it here. He truly intends to do it. Reading this could be traumatic for any of you who have lost loved ones this way. That's why I put the trigger warning in the summary and again below. My heart goes out to you.
Chapter 4 - Christian's POV
Trigger warning: suicide contemplation
September 20, 2016
I waited a full week after learning the news from Barney about Dr. Agnes Lind, the Swedish doctor who had developed a promising alternative treatment for ALS. For one full week, I kept my news from Anastasia, plotting the entire time how to get Raymond Steele to Sweden, and how to get Anastasia in my bed without making her hate me.
I had no doubt in my mind that what I was planning was twisted, manipulative, and just downright demented. In my gut, I knew that everything I was thinking about doing was wrong, and a very, very bad idea. Nevertheless, I moved forward with the plan. My desire to have Anastasia in my bed, to fuck her senseless, outweighed any of my good senses. I knew she'd hate me, but I thought there was a chance that she'd forgive me. Never did I imagine that I might destroy her; such a thought never even entered my mind. I had no intention of hurting her. I fooled myself into believing that she actually wanted me as much as I wanted her, and I was actually doing her a favor by moving us to the next level the only way I knew how.
And so it was that on that fateful Tuesday morning, I ordered Anastasia to come to my penthouse at 8:00 that evening to discuss something of a personal nature. We'd actually become as close to friends as I was capable of being by that point, so she didn't question me. We spent the rest of the day in our normal work routine, with her attending my meetings and typing up the notes afterwards. It was a fairly quiet day, which wasn't good for me, as I had too much time to stew and second-guess myself. I considered canceling my 8 p.m. meeting with her several times, but I couldn't do it. I just had to see where this could go.
I'd already given her my parking garage and elevator codes, so at 7:52 p.m., Anastasia arrived in my penthouse. She'd gone home after work, most likely exercised at her gym if she'd followed her usual routine, and showered before dressing casually in faded jeans and a hoodie. Her hair was still a little damp and pulled back in a pony tail. Her ass in those jeans looked more fuckable than ever. I didn't even try to hide my appreciative appraisal of her body, and her blush told me that she noticed.
"Would you like a glass of wine?" I asked her. I already had a bottle of her favorite Sancerre chilling for her.
As she sipped her wine, I told her what I'd learned about Dr. Agnes Lind and the ALS treatment that she'd developed. I explained all the research that I'd found out in the past week. I'd even talked with Dr. Lind myself, and I told Anastasia all about that conversation. Dr. Lind's program was not without risks. The medication could cause blood clots, or even a heart attack. But the positive effects seemed to greatly outweigh the potential risks. I told Anastasia that I had already made all the arrangements for Mr. Steele. All he had to do was agree to go.
"How much does it cost?" she asked.
"Nothing," I answered. "You and your dad won't need to pay for anything. It's all already paid for upfront."
"Meaning what? You're paying for it? Dad will never agree to that. He's too proud."
"Well, you'll have to convince him then," I told her.
"Why are you doing this, Christian?" she asked me quietly.
"Because I can," I answered her just as quietly. I wasn't ready yet to give her the real reason.
She wasn't satisfied with that answer. She studied me, pensively. "You know, I've watched you closely over the past six months. You never do shit like this without getting something in return. Even your charitable work gives you the satisfaction and notoriety of doing your part to end world hunger, which is something you want to be known for."
"That's a keen observation," I told her. "Does that make it wrong?"
"No, of course not," she answered. "I'm not judging, just trying to understand. Why are you doing this? You must be spending tens of thousands of dollars, if not more, all for one man, my father. I'm just your assistant, Christian, so I don't understand. What's in it for you?"
I argued, "Am I not allowed to spend my money, which I have plenty of, in whatever way I choose to? Am I not allowed to spend it on a member of my staff that I've come to care for, on something... or someone... very dear to her heart?"
She continued to study me, and I suddenly felt naked. And ashamed. She shook her head and said, "Christian, thank you, but this is just too much. You've already promised to help me start my business in two years. Now this. And all you've asked from me is that I just keep doing my job. Why are you being so nice to me?"
It was now or never. I took a deep breath, and jumped off the cliff. "You're not going to think I'm nice at all when you find out what I want from you, Anastasia. I want to make a personal agreement with you. Before doing so, I need you to sign this." I picked up the NDA from the table and handed it to her.
She looked confused as she looked at the document. "Christian, I already signed a non-disclosure agreement when I started working for you. What's this about?"
"That was for business. This one covers... a much more personal matter."
She looked back at me, her beautiful blue eyes peering into mine. I knew she had some inkling of where I was going with this. Without comment, she signed the NDA, handed it to me, sat back and crossed her arms, and waited for me to speak.
OK, the ball was in my court. How to begin? "Have you ever heard of BDSM?" I asked her.
"Oh, shit!" she exclaimed. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."
This was a horrible start. "I take it, that means you have heard of it?"
She answered, "I may be... inexperienced, but I'm not stupid. Of course, I know what it is. But you can't... Surely you aren't asking me... What exactly is it that you... expect from me?"
I sighed and told her, "Look... maybe it's easier to show you rather than trying to explain." I stood up and reached for her hand. She refused to take my hand, but she stood up and followed me upstairs.
As I stood at the door to my playroom, which I hadn't entered in eight long months, I second guessed myself again. My gut kept telling me that this was a very bad idea, but I'd already opened up the metaphorical door, so it was now time to open the playroom door and walk through it.
I unlocked the door, but before I opened it, I turned to Anastasia and said, "Please just keep an open mind. I'm not suggesting that we do everything in this room. If there's anything you don't like, we don't have to..."
She interrupted me. "Just open the fucking door, Christian," she said.
I obeyed. No, this girl was no submissive, but I still believed that I could train her, or at least reach some kind of compromise.
As we walked into the room, I watched her closely as her eyes took in every piece of equipment. Her expression shifted from anger to repulsion to horror. This wasn't good at all.
She didn't speak as she made her way through the room, studying the Saint Andrews cross first, which was the largest and most imposing structure in the room. She examined the spanking bench, clearly trying to figure out what it was, but I wasn't going to speak unless she asked me a question. Her face turned green when she took in the rack of crops, canes and whips, and the belts hanging next to it. I saw tears in her eyes as she turned and studied the large bed, which was made up with red satin sheets, and the chains attached to each corner post.
She'd apparently noticed the open door to the ensuite bathroom when she'd entered the room. Before she spoke a word to me, she'd run into the bathroom and vomited into the toilet. My playroom had literally made her sick to her stomach. Shit! She already hated me. I was sure of it.
I followed her into the bathroom and gently held her hair back as she vomited. It was already in a pony tail, so she didn't really need me to help, but I had to. I was so worried that she would despise me now that she knew how fucked up I was.
After some time, she recovered enough to stand up and wash her face and hands at the sink. "There's a new toothbrush in the drawer here," I told her, as I opened it and handed it to her, along with a tube of toothpaste. Without speaking, she took them both from me and proceeded to brush her teeth. All the while, she studied me in the mirror. She didn't look disgusted with me, just confused.
Once she'd brushed her teeth, she spoke for the first time. "I need to get out of this room. Can we return to your living room?"
"Of course," I agreed. I tried to hold her arm as I led her back downstairs, but she pulled away from me.
When we returned to the living room, the first thing she did was refill her own glass of wine and drink the entire thing at once. Then she turned to me and said, "I need you to tell me very clearly exactly what it is that you are expecting from me."
I swallowed hard, and then I blurted out. "I just want to fuck you."
She looked at me as if I'd grown three heads. She looked lost for words. Then, she began to talk. "Christian, nothing about that... room... that you just showed me says 'I just want to fuck you.' I may be inexperienced, but I know that more goes on in that room than just fucking. What were all those instruments of torture? Do you want to torture me?" Her voice was getting higher pitched as she spoke.
"Of course not, Anastasia. I'm just... that's the only way I've ever done it."
She looked so confused. "The only way you've ever had sex is by torturing the women you do it with?" she asked.
"It's not torture," I insisted. "The only way I've ever had sex is within the confines of a contracted BDSM agreement. I find out the woman's limits, and she finds out mine. Then we do whatever we've agreed to. It can be very... satisfying."
She snorted. "Being beaten by whips is 'satisfying'? What's wrong with these women?"
"Nothing's wrong with them," I insisted. "Look, I'll get rid of all the whips and canes, and anything else you don't like. I truly just want to fuck you. I don't want to hurt you. Tell me how you like it, and I'll only do it the way you like. We don't have to ever even go back in that room if you don't want to."
She didn't answer me right away. She still seemed very confused, like she was trying to make sense of everything I was telling her. Finally, she asked, "So, your agreement... what you're proposing that we do... you're saying that you'll pay for my dad's treatment, which has every likelihood of extending his life and easing his pain. And in exchange, you want me to become your sex slave?" Her voice cracked there at the end.
If I'd had one, which I clearly didn't if I was so willing to make this disgusting proposal in the first place, my heart would have been breaking right now. "No, I don't want you to be my sex slave, Anastasia. That implies that you don't have a choice."
There was fire in her bright blue eyes as she turned them on me. "What choice do I have?" she spat at me. "Do you really think I can say no to the possibility of helping my dad? You manipulative bastard, I thought you liked me! I thought you cared about me! I've been the biggest fool!"
Shit! Yes, she hated me. "Anastasia, I do like you. I do care about you. So much that I'm willing to do almost anything just to have you."
She snorted. "Did you ever consider just asking me out?"
Now I felt confused. "You wouldn't have gone out with me. You're my employee." Besides, I've never asked a girl out in my life. I don't even know how to do it. But I wasn't ready to admit that to her just yet.
She shook her head, looking exasperated. "I might have been willing to bend the rules. Now, I don't have a choice."
I sighed. "Look, Anastasia, I want to make this good for you. Tell me what you like. Tell me how you like it. I will do anything to please you."
She snapped, "I don't know how I like it."
"What do you mean?" I asked. "Just tell me what you've enjoyed most when you've had sex in the past. You know, what are your favorite positions, and do you like it fast or slow? Do you like it from behind, or do you prefer the good old missionary position? Do you like a little kink, or do you want to keep it just plain vanilla. I've never done vanilla, but I'd gladly do it for you. That's all I'm asking. How have you liked it in the past?"
She sighed, looked me in the eye again, and answered, "I don't know because I've never done it in the past."
That just about floored me. "What? You're a virgin?"
"Yes, Christian, I'm a virgin," she confirmed.
Holy shit! I'd just showed my playroom to a virgin, and I was expecting her to do this with me? No wonder she puked her guts out.
"How is that even possible, Anastasia? You're... stunning. You must have had boys chasing you most of your life."
"Not any that I wanted," she answered. She was blushing again, and she looked so adorable. I was truly the lowest of human beings. I was a monster, not even a human being. Pond scum. I had no right to even look at her adorable, innocent face.
But now, I had a problem that I had to solve immediately. What was I supposed to do now? I'd already put the offer on the table, and now I learned that she was a virgin? As if my proposal wasn't bad enough before, it had just gotten ten times more deplorable. And I didn't see any way out of it. I couldn't take the offer back, because I still wanted her too badly.
Maybe it wouldn't be quite so bad if when we began the agreement, she wasn't an innocent virgin. Maybe I could convince her to let me have her now, and if she enjoyed it enough, she'd be willing to try, without thinking of herself as my sex slave. I didn't want her to see herself like that.
"Come with me," I ordered her.
She looked confused again. "What? Why?" she asked.
"I need to rectify this situation. Come with me, to my bedroom. I want to fuck you, Anastasia, so you can make this decision without your virginity being an issue. I can take care of this problem right now."
She looked shocked again. My God, I'd shocked her so many times in the past hour, I wasn't sure that it was possible to shock her again, but I'd just gone and done it.
"Christian," she said firmly. "I have not signed anything yet, so I don't have to be your little whore just yet. I have always considered my virginity a gift that I would give to the man that I chose to give it to. You're taking that away from me. But let me tell you this, and I hope you hear me loud and clear. My virginity is NOT now, nor will it ever be, a problem that you need to rectify. Now, I'm going home. I need to think about your... offer. If my dad knew what you were proposing, there is no way that he would ever agree to it. Don't worry, I won't tell him. I can't tell him. I'm really not sure if I can do this, but I can't say no, at least not yet. I need some time to think about it."
"You can have until Friday," I told her. Yes, I am definitely pond scum.
"Friday?" she asked, numbly.
"Yes. Friday," I insisted. I hated myself more than ever as the next words came out of my mouth. "I want you here, by 8 p.m. Friday evening. If you agree to my offer, then I am going to fuck you Friday evening. If you don't show up Friday evening, then I will know that you are rejecting my offer. If you agree to it and convince your father, then I will fly both of you to Sweden over the weekend. You can take one week to get him settled there. Then, when you return, you will continue in your job as my PA, and you will be available whenever I want you to be... for sex. And Anastasia, I promise, I will make it good for you."
She clearly wasn't impressed by my promise. "I will see you in the office tomorrow, Christian," she said.
I reached into my pocket and took out the post-it note that I'd kept there until now. "I've emailed you an encrypted email with my terms for our... proposal. This is the code you'll need to open it. Read it carefully and then be prepared to discuss it on Friday. I'm willing to delete parts of it that you don't want to do. I've already deleted some things that I'd normally expect from my submissives."
She didn't respond as she took the note and walked to the elevator.
"Good night, Anastasia," I said as she got into the elevator.
She didn't respond except to glare at me as the elevator doors closed.
September 21, 2016: At Grey House:
The next morning, Anastasia was already at work when I got there. She looked, in a word, exhausted. She clearly had not slept all night. Well, neither had I, but there was nothing all that unusual about that. Even though she refused to look at me, I could see that her eyes were red. Not only had she not slept, but she'd also been crying. A lot. I heard her tell Andrea that she had allergies. She was lying to cover for herself, and for me, because let's face it, her misery was all my fault.
She brought me my coffee as usual without being asked. I wondered as she handed it to me if she'd spit in it. Not that I'd have minded. I wanted to swap spit with her anyway. And she was too sweet to poison it, no matter how much she hated me.
She refused to look me in the eye all day. At lunchtime, I ordered lunch for both of us as I suspected that she hadn't eaten anything since before coming to see me the night before. I called her into my office and ordered her to sit and eat.
"I'm not hungry," she said quietly, still refusing to look at me.
"Anastasia, you have to eat. Look, I know you're angry, but you can't go without food. You're going to make yourself sick."
It was clearly the wrong thing to say. She turned and headed for the door. With her back to me, she said quietly but menacingly, "I'm not your slave yet, and I don't have to obey you. Not until I sign that fucking contract." With that, she walked out the door, closing it firmly behind her.
Well, she'd clearly read the 'fucking contract', hence her comment about obeying me. Her repulsion to it, and to me, made me hate myself more than ever before. I truly was repugnant. There was nothing redeemable about me. How could I do this to her? If I truly cared for her, and I did, I could not do this to her. I had to find another way. I had to let her go. But even the thought of letting her go scared the shit out of me. How could I? I needed to find a way out of this mess that I'd created that still allowed me to keep her, if only as my PA, and nothing more. But how could I take it all back, now that the ugly truth was out there?
In spite of her anger and disgust, I could find nothing wrong with her job performance. She was perfect, as always. She sat in all three of my meetings that day, took notes vigorously, and had them typed up and emailed to me within twenty minutes after each meeting, all without even the slightest of typos. In addition, she scheduled appointments with her usual finesse. As I overheard one of her telephone conversations, I never would have known that anything was amiss with her. It wasn't until she got off the phone and saw me standing there watching her that she went back to her brooding.
At 5 p.m., I walked out of my office and told her to go home. Without acknowledging me, she turned off her computer, grabbed her purse from the desk drawer, got up and walked away. I sighed. I had to find a way to fix this.
I didn't sleep at all again that night, and as each hour ticked by, I hated myself even more. How could I do this to her? I couldn't. Instead of finding any solace in my piano, as I often did, I found myself sitting in my office, making a list of things I now knew were true:
1. I did, indeed, have a heart. That pain in my chest that I was feeling could be explained no other way. I'd never experienced this kind of pain, even when I lay beside my dead mother for four days.
2. I loved her. There was no other explanation. I was head over heels in love with Anastasia.
3. I had to let her go. I could not, in any way, have her now. I'd destroyed everything. I had to set her free, pay for her father's treatments, send her with him, and hope that she'd find happiness. I knew it was impossible for her happiness to be with me.
4. I had to let her know as soon as possible that she did not need to fulfill any of the terms in that God forsaken contract. There was no way in hell that I could force my dearest, purest Anastasia to be my whore, as she put it. I would die first.
5. And die I would. There was nothing to live for now, and I hated myself too much to try to find any reason for living. Life without Anastasia would be meaningless anyway. What was the point of continuing to exist?
September 22, 2016: At Grey House:
By the next morning, I was resigned to my own fate. I couldn't hurt my precious Anastasia, and this plan of mine had already hurt her. I had to set her free as soon as possible before I had a chance to drag her down any further into my miserable existence. She deserved so much more than the hell I'd put her through. She deserved more than I could ever give her. And I didn't want to live without her. There was really only one simple solution.
It was clear, when I saw her that Thursday morning, that she had also spent another sleepless night, and she'd still been crying. I'd gotten to the office first today, but I was watching for her. She arrived right on time, and I determined to put her out of her misery immediately.
"Anastasia, my office, now," I ordered as soon as she got there.
Without a word, or a look in my direction, she grabbed her notepad and walked into my office, taking her usual seat.
I sat at my desk and looked at her. "Look at me," I told her.
She hesitated. "No," she said softly. Then she sighed and stood up. "I'll be right back," she said, still refusing to look at me. "I have something I need to give you."
I knew before she gave it to me that she was handing me a letter of resignation. I just knew it, and I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Not that it mattered, because there wasn't going to be a job for her to come back to anyway, but I'd pushed her so far I'd made her quit a job she'd loved until this week. I'd done this. I'd lost this magnificent woman, all because of my fucked-up-ness.
She was back in just a moment. She handed the document to me and said in the most defeated tone I've ever heard, "Here's your contract, Christian. My father has agreed to go to Sweden. I've signed it. And I'll be at your house tomorrow at 8 p.m., just as you ordered."
Now I wanted to vomit, just as she had in my playroom. I took the document from her and just stared at it for a moment, unable to think clearly. I thought she was quitting, but instead, she was giving herself to me. But not because she wanted to. I was not really getting what I wanted, and I still could not do it. Of course, I couldn't do it.
"Anastasia, I'm so, so sorry," I told her.
She looked upset, and she looked at me for the first time in two days. "What? You can't back out of this deal. Not if it helps my dad..."
"I promise, I'm not backing out of that part of the deal," I assured her. "Dr. Lind has already been paid. The arrangements have all already been made and paid for. The GEH jet is already reserved for you, ready to depart on Saturday morning, as early as you want to go. All they need is a few hours notice so they can get flight clearance. Take your father to Sweden, Anastasia. Stay with him as long as you need to. You don't have to return in one week's time if that's not long enough. You can stay with him for the duration, and I'll still pay you, so you don't need to worry about finances."
"But... when will you want me to... I thought you wanted me to come back for you to..." She stopped speaking, shut her eyes briefly, and then asked as she looked at me again, "What exactly are you saying?" She had the cutest wrinkle between her eyebrows that I longed to kiss. But that would never happen. I would never have the honor of kissing her lovely face.
I took the signed contract and tore it in half. Then I turned to the shredder behind me and fed the torn document into it. "I'm saying that I'm a fucked-up son of a bitch, but I can't do this to you. You are everything that is perfect and pure in the world, and I can't..." My voice broke, and I felt like I was about to cry like a little girl. What the hell had this woman done to me?
Anastasia stared at me in shock. She didn't respond, so I continued to talk. "I'm so sorry for even thinking that this... so-called offer of mine... was in any way, shape, or form OK. It's not OK. You're right. I was forcing you to be my sex slave. You aren't a submissive, and you know nothing about the lifestyle. Women who are into it... who choose to be into it, not because anyone coerces them like I was coercing you... they aren't being forced to do it against their will. I have never had a woman in that room that you saw who didn't willingly sign a contract and choose to be there. They're in the lifestyle because they want to be. You aren't, and it would have been very wrong for me to force you to do anything like that." I stopped and sighed.
Anastasia spoke. "So... you're saying... I don't have to... do that?" she asked hopefully.
I answered her, "No, Anastasia, you don't have to do that. Not now, not ever, and I'm so very sorry that I ever suggested it. Or more than suggested it... I forced it. I thought that you were... into me. I thought that you would agree because you wanted me the same way that I wanted you. I saw how you looked at me sometimes, and I thought... I was stupid. I thought you felt as attracted to me as I do to you."
"Well, I did," she admitted. "But I wanted to have a choice in whether or not to... be with you."
"Of course you did," I agreed. "And I fucked all that up. I never intended to force you into something so... disgusting. The idea of forcing you into this... arrangement alone makes me sick. And that's even before I take your innocence into consideration. I had no idea that you were... a virgin. You're right, Anastasia, your virginity should be a gift that you give someone you love, not something that a monster like me rips from you against your will."
"Christian, you aren't a monster," she objected. "And you make it sound like you were going to rape me." She shuddered at that thought.
"Is there really a difference?" I asked her. "Anastasia, I hate myself for how I treated you. You are lovely, and you didn't deserve that. You deserve so much more than that. I am so sorry for the misery I've put you through this week. I only hope you can find a way to forgive me. I don't expect you to keep working for me after the deplorable way I've treated you, but the job is here for you, and will always be here for you, if you still want it. If you can't stand me enough to stay, I'll understand. What I've done is just... too much. I will pay you a full year's salary even if you don't return." I couldn't tell her that there wouldn't be anything for her to return to. Besides, I was going to take care of her. I would make sure her dreams came true.
"Christian, I don't hate you," she told me. "I was deeply hurt and confused, but I don't hate you. And I still want to work for you. I just don't want... that."
Was this possible? She wanted to stay? Why the hell would she want to stay with a monster like me? "Of course you don't, Anastasia. Again, please forgive me. I swear to you, I will never... You won't hear any... so called offers like that... coming from me ever again." Or anything else, for that matter.
"I forgive you, Christian," she assured me. How was that possible? What I had done was unforgivable. "Honestly, I'd really like to understand why you thought... that... was the only way that you could... be with me? Why didn't you consider just... asking me out? Even if you thought I'd say no? I mean... if you really like me as much as you say... wasn't it worth a try?"
I sighed. "I have a fucked up past. I've never asked a girl out on a date. I've never had a girlfriend. I don't know how to even go about these things. There's nothing normal about me. I'm fifty shades of fucked up."
She studied me for a moment. "So... OK, this makes sense now. That day when Elena Lincoln showed up with that woman, Jennifer. She was a submissive. That's why she called you 'master.' I thought she was doing some kind of weird role-play. It was clear that she was a prostitute or something that Mrs. Lincoln had brought for you. I thought it was very strange, but it wasn't my place to ask."
I sighed. What did it matter now? I could tell her anything. "Elena and I have a past. She introduced me to BDSM. And she supplied me with submissives. I paid her a commission, or a finder's fee, to connect me with compatible subs."
"So, she was your pimp?" Anastasia asked innocently.
I'd never thought of it that way. "In a manner of speaking, yes. I didn't pay the women though. They weren't prostitutes."
"Well, I'm sure they collected their pay in other ways," she guessed correctly.
I nodded in agreement, but I didn't say anything. What else was there to say?
"Can I ask you a question?" Anastasia asked.
I nodded again. "You can ask me anything." God, I'd do anything for you, sweet girl. If only, if only.
"How old were you. Because it sounds like you've been doing this for a while, and you're... well, you're only 25, right?"
I sighed. Again, what did it matter now? "I was 15 when Elena introduced me to the lifestyle. She actually rescued me from the violent path I was walking down. I was her submissive for five years, and then she trained me to be a Dom. I've been a Dom for five years. And to be honest, I'm sick of it, but I don't know any other way. I don't know how to be normal, even though I wish I were."
"Oh, Christian," Anastasia said. She shook her head, and there were tears in her eyes. Why the hell was she almost crying? "That bitch didn't rescue you, she molested you, and she fucked you up. She's the reason you think you can't be normal."
"You don't understand, Anastasia," I argued. "I was a fucked-up kid. I got into fights all the time. I couldn't stand to be touched. I was such a disappointment to my family."
"I'm sure that's what she told you," she huffed. "It's the way predators like her operate. But what do you mean you couldn't stand to be touched?"
Oh, right. Anastasia didn't know about my hapnophobia. I didn't really want to talk about this, but I felt I owed it to her to answer any question she had. "I was abused in my early childhood. I have burns on my chest and back from that time. BDSM worked for me because I could fuck without being touched."
"You mean, because you tied the women up first?" she asked innocently.
"Yes, exactly," I answered.
She was quiet for a moment. I could see that she was thinking, trying to understand. Why she was making the effort after all I'd put her through, I wasn't really sure.
"Christian, when you had that nightmare in Taipei... were you... remembering?"
I so didn't want to have this conversation, but I'd do anything for her. "Yes," I answered simply.
"And... I touched your chest. Your bare chest."
"Yes, you did," I acknowledged.
"Did I hurt you?" she asked. After all the misery I'd caused her, she was concerned about something that had happened a couple of months ago.
I looked her in her beautiful blue eyes as I answered, "No, Anastasia. You didn't hurt me. For the first time in my life... You're the only person who has ever been able to touch me like that. It didn't hurt at all. It felt... comforting."
"And then you kissed me," she reminded me. Why would she remind me of that now?
"The memories of that kiss will stay with me for the rest of my life." What's left of it anyway.
"I thought you didn't remember much from that night," she said.
"I lied. I've relived that night a thousand times in my mind. I just didn't want things to be awkward with you, so I told you I didn't remember much."
She sighed. "Are things always going to be awkward with us now?" she asked.
"No," I assured her. "Everything is going to be fine." I was confident in my words because I knew that she wasn't going to see me again after she left for Sweden. I would no longer be here when she returned.
"And... are you serious about me staying in Europe with Dad? For as long as he needs me?"
"Anastasia, you should know by now that I'm always serious about what I say. Even when I fuck up and say despicable things."
"Christian..." she began, paused, then continued, "Can we pretend that this week never happened?"
"Oh, how I wish that were possible," I told her sadly. I smiled sadly at her and said, "I'm going to take a couple of days off. I want you to do the same. Go home and get some sleep. I know you haven't gotten any for the past couple of nights, and your father is going to need you. You also need to get ready for your trip. Pack your shit and get your dad ready to go."
"Are you going to hire a replacement for me?" she asked.
"No," I answered simply.
"But... how will you get by without a PA?" she pressed.
I smiled sadly at her again. "Don't worry your pretty head about that. I'll be fine."
She looked at me suspiciously, but she didn't argue. "If I'm not going to be here, you'll have to ask Andrea to reschedule all your meetings," she reminded me.
"I'll take care of it. Don't worry. Go home, Anastasia. Rest. Get ready for your trip."
She sighed. "You're sure?"
I nodded. "Absolutely."
"OK, so I guess... I'll call you when I know what time we'll want to leave on Saturday? Are you coming with us?"
"No," I answered. "I'm not going to be able to do that. But everything is arranged for you, including an airport pick-up in Stockholm. You will be fine without me."
She hesitated. "So... I guess I will see you again when I return from Europe, then."
No, you won't, sweet girl. No, you won't. Snap out of it, you stupid shit. You don't want her to see you cry.
I stood and walked her to the door. "Goodbye, Anastasia."
She stood there for a moment and stared at me, looking very confused. Finally, she sighed and said, "OK, goodbye, Christian." She looked like she wanted to hug me. I held my breath hoping she didn't try. If anyone could hug me, it would be her, but I knew if she did, I would break down into a slobbering mess.
Finally, to my relief, she walked out the door. I stood and watched her say goodbye to Andrea and Olivia and the others in the office. I watched her beautiful ass as she walked to the elevator. She was so lovely.
And I knew that this was the last time that I'd ever see her.