Author's note:
Notice that this chapter is a change in POV. Ana needs to tell this part, but then we'll be back to Christian's POV in the next chapter. Ana's POV is a rare treat in this story, but it will come up again in a few chapters.
I've mentioned the happy news, now for the sad. The suicide trigger warning from the previous chapter still applies to this one. In the previous chapter, Christian was contemplating and planning it. Now, he will take the next steps to do it. And yes, he actually means to do it. But remember, this is A & C HEA. Eventually.
By the grace of God, I have not personally experienced the suicide of anyone close to me, but I recognize that this will not be true of all of you, and I do not want to take this subject lightly, ever. This is fiction, so we can create a happy ending that is not always possible in real life. My condolences to those of you who have lost loved ones to depression.
Chapter 5:Anastasia's POV:
Trigger warning: attempted suicide
September 23, 2016
"Good night, Dad! I'll see you bright and early in the morning," I said as I hugged him good night. We were scheduled to depart the airport at 8 a.m., which meant we'd need to get there around 7, even for Christian's fancy private plane.
As I headed home, I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that had been plaguing me all day. Christian had been acting strangely all week. That disgusting, indecent proposition of his had just about destroyed me, but then he'd torn up the contract and insisted that I didn't need to do any of that. As relieved as I was that I wasn't going to be forced to be a whore... a virgin whore at that... I was confused by how... final... everything seemed about that conversation. He talked as if I weren't going to see him again. What was that about?
The man confused me like no other. I had thought three months ago when my temporary job was almost over and he invited me to the Mile High Club that he was going to suggest that we date when my job was over. It would have been perfect. If I no longer worked for him, there would be no ethical conflict. But then he went and offered me a permanent job. I thought he just wasn't interested in me that way. But then it turns out, he was. So confusing.
But now, I understand that he doesn't think he can be normal. He seemed so depressed when he explained all that to me, and even though I was still angry with him, I couldn't help but feel sad for him. I would like to strangle that bitch Elena Lincoln for how she fucked him up.
I checked the time. 7:35 p.m. I was so sure a couple of days ago that I'd be headed to Christian's penthouse about now, ready to give up my virginity for the sake of my dad's health. That's so fucked up. Well, thankfully, Christian realized how wrong it was before he forced me to do it. I was willing to do it for Dad. And because, the truth is, I really wanted Christian to be the one. But that was before I saw his torture chamber. But he promised that we wouldn't have to go back in there, so I was willing. But it all seemed so... wrong. A virgin whore. Who would have ever thought?
Without really realizing what I was doing, I drove Dad's car, which I was borrowing just for the night, towards Escala instead of towards my own apartment. Concern for Christian filled my mind. And unease. What did he mean that he would get by without another PA? And why did that goodbye seem so... final?
I'd gone home and slept after he sent me home yesterday, and I'd spent most of today getting Dad and me ready to go. I'd called Christian to tell him our travel plans, but he didn't answer. I texted him instead, and he responded with a very short acknowledgment. I called him again in the afternoon, and he still didn't answer. Strange. It felt like he was purposefully avoiding me. I guess I could understand. He felt embarrassed about how he'd treated me. But I had meant every word when I told him I forgave him, so I hoped he'd get over it.
I decided that I had to see him again before I left for Europe. I needed to just check on him. I wasn't sure why, but I couldn't go without seeing him one last time. I used the code for the parking garage at Escala, which Christian had given me a few days ago even though I hadn't needed it then, and pulled into the guest parking spot. I hadn't been in this garage before, but it was pretty easy to navigate.
I punched in the same elevator code that he'd given me earlier in the week, and thankfully it still worked. As the elevator doors opened into his penthouse, I felt a strange sense of doom. Everything was dark. Only the city lights from outside provided enough light to see around the apartment. I expected to be greeted by security, if not Christian himself, but nobody was there.
"Christian?" I called out. Nothing. I found the light switch and turned it on. I looked around, wondering for a minute if I should just leave. He was obviously not home. But all of his cars had been downstairs in the garage. At least, I didn't miss any of them. I suppose it was possible that he had another car that I didn't know about. Or maybe he'd gone out with Elliot.
Before I turned to return to the garage, a pile of envelopes on the breakfast bar caught my attention. For some reason, I was drawn to them. The one on the top was addressed to Jason. Hmm... Jason, not Taylor. I knew that Christian always called him Taylor, just as he always called me Anastasia instead of Ana. This was strange. Directly below that was one with my name on it. What was this? I continued to look through the pile and saw envelopes addressed to each member of Christian's family. They were labelled, Mom, Dad, Elliot, Mia, Grandpa, Grandma. There was also one for Ros, and one for Gail. Directly below that was a file folder, which I opened. It held a copy of Christian's will. Oh, no. No, no, no!
I ripped into the envelope with my name on it, and I skimmed it. I was reading too quickly, and my eyes were too full of tears to read it all, but here's what I got from it:
My dearest Anastasia,
By the time you get this letter, I will be gone from this earth. Please don't mourn me, and please live your life without thinking about how I almost ruined it...
If only I had been able to give you the love that you so deserve...
Someday, you will meet that man who deserves the beautiful gift that you have to give him. I wish I could have been that man...
I purchased Seattle Independent Publishers with you in mind. It is now yours, Anastasia. Take it, and make your dreams come true...
If I ever come to your mind in the future, I hope you will know that I loved you, Anastasia, as much as my fucked up heart would allow me to love. I wish that things could have been different...
Goodbye, my sweet, precious Anastasia. If there is an afterlife, I will love you there too.
Christian.
"No!" I screamed. Then, throwing the letter down, I ran throughout the penthouse, looking for him. His bedroom. That's where he would do it. I was pretty sure it was on the first floor, so I ran in the direction that I thought it was. I found it quickly, found the light switch, searched the bedroom, the bathroom, the ginormous walk-in closet. No Christian, dead or alive.
Where would he be? I ran frantically out of the bedroom and through a few other rooms on the same floor. A media room. An awesome library... Holy shit, how did I not know about this room? But I had no time to dilly daddle. I needed to find his office. Of course! I had been there once before, so I knew exactly where it was. But no Christian! And then it hit me. The torture chamber! I raced up the stairs, and as I headed towards the door, I saw that it was cracked open, and there was a light on inside. Dear God, please let me be in time!
I pushed the door open, and there he was! Standing there, on a ladder, with a rope in his hands that he was attaching to the ceiling. He was still very much alive, standing there in the middle of a completely destroyed room. Pieces of the furniture and torture devices that had been in here were now scattered everywhere. It looked like a tornado had ripped through the room. Christian was on a ladder in the middle of the chaos, tying a rope that he'd made into a noose into a hook in the ceiling. He was clearly planning to hang himself.
"Just what in the hell do you think you're doing?!" I screamed at him.
He looked down from his perch on the ladder, clearly shocked to see me. "Anastasia, what are you doing here? You can't be here."
"We had an appointment for 8:00 tonight. I was on time. Did you forget?" What the hell was I saying? It wasn't like I wanted to give him my virginity, not like this.
He looked at me like I was speaking Greek. "I told you not to come," he finally said. "Nobody was supposed to be here."
"What are you doing, Christian?" I asked him. I was unable to stop the tears.
He glanced around the room and then back at me. "Don't cry, sweet Anastasia. Don't cry for a monster like me. There are some people that the world would be better off without. I'm one of those people."
I wiped my tears and screamed at him, "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! Do you have any fucking idea how many lives you're going to destroy if you go through with this?"
"You're wrong. I destroy everything dear to me."
"That's bullshit, Christian. Complete and utter bullshit! You're a genius. You're probably the smartest and most successful person I've ever known."
"So what? Anastasia, really, why are you here? How can you not hate me after what I did to you this week? I almost turned you into my whore. Sweet, innocent, perfect Anastasia. I almost destroyed your innocence. And the sickest part of the whole thing is that I didn't even see how wrong what I was doing was until it was too late. Do you really think I can live with myself after that?"
"Well, I forgave you, Christian," I snapped at him. "So get over yourself. How do you think I would have felt if I'd gotten to Europe and found out that you'd killed yourself? Have you even stopped to think how this is going to affect all the people who love you?"
"Nobody loves me," he answered. "I'm unlovable."
"That's the biggest load of shit I've ever heard. You think nobody loves you? Your brother and sister love you, Christian! Your parents love you! And God damn it, I love you!"
He stared at me. For a few moments, we just stood there, staring at each other. Then he swallowed. "You don't mean that," he told me. "You're only saying that so I won't go through with this."
"Did you mean it?" I asked him. "You wrote it in that fucking letter that you wrote me. Your God damn suicide letter. You said you love me. Did you mean it?"
He blinked a couple of times. "Yes, I meant it," he answered.
"Why do you think I don't mean it then?" I asked. "You have no idea what I feel for you."
"Maybe you did... feel something for me... before I destroyed it all this week. But it's too late now."
"Oh, Christian. I am so fucking angry with you right now. You think I was angry with you earlier this week, when you tried to force me into that ridiculous proposition? That's nothing compared to how angry you're making me right now. How can you do this? You promised. You fucking promised that you'd be there to mentor me when I start my business. And it's not just about me. So many people are counting on you. Do you really think that Ros can run GEH without you? How many thousands of employees are going to lose their jobs when you're not there to run things?"
Christian began to climb down the ladder as he answered me. "Now you're just exaggerating, Anastasia. Ros will do fine, and so will you. I already bought SIP, and I transferred ownership to you. It's yours, baby. All fucking yours. And I left you money in my will, too, so you'll have plenty to work with."
"I'm not ready for it though, Christian!" I told him. "I don't know how to do it. Where do I even begin? I was counting on your being here to help me."
Christian sighed. "Ok, you're here. I guess I'm not supposed to do this after all. I gave all my security the night off. I had to be sneaky about that, too. Taylor thought Ryan was going to be here, and Ryan thought Sawyer was. I sent Taylor and Mrs. Jones to Aspen, Colorado for the weekend. They just got engaged. Nobody was supposed to be back until they returned Sunday night. I knew Taylor would be the one to find me."
"After all the years of being your loyal employee, that was how you were going to repay him? By making him be the one to discover your dead body, right after asking the woman he loves to marry him? That's really low, Christian," I told him.
"I told you, Anastasia, I'm a monster."
"I swear, if you say something like that about yourself again, I'm going to fucking smack you. You're really getting on my nerves with that self deprecating bullshit!"
"And yet, you say you love me," he responded. There was a hint of a smile on his perfect lips.
"I do love you, you idiot. Why do you think I'm here? I knew everything wasn't OK with you. I had to see you before I left for Europe. Thank God I did."
"So, I guess you want me to thank you for saving my life," he said with a sarcastic undertone.
"No, but I do want you to promise me something," I answered him.
He sighed and responded seriously. "I think I'd do just about anything you asked me to, Anastasia."
Good. I hoped that was true. "You need to get help, Christian."
He stared at me for the longest time. After what seemed like ages, he spoke. "Can we... get out of here? This room depresses me. Besides, if I'm not going to kill myself tonight, I'd kind of like to get shit-faced. Will you get drunk with me, Anastasia?"
"Well, I have a plane to catch tomorrow morning, so I don't think that's a good idea. I would like to stay with you while you get shit-faced though. And I want to call Jason and tell him to get his ass back here. I'll stay until he gets back. Dad and I can leave a few hours later than we'd planned."
Christian nodded. "OK," he said. Holy shit, he was agreeing with me! That said a lot about where he was mentally right now.
We walked back down the stairs. This whole thing felt so surreal to me. I'd just stopped Christian Grey, the youngest self-made billionaire in the world, from committing suicide. How was this even possible? Did anybody close to him know that he was contemplating suicide? The first clue he gave me was when he said goodbye to me yesterday morning. Did his family have any idea of just how troubled he was?
In the living room, I found my purse where I'd dropped it once I realized what was happening and was frantic to find him. I got out my cell phone and called Jason. I expected it to go to voicemail, because I figured he'd still be on an airplane. But he answered on the second ring.
"Ms. Steele? To what do I owe this pleasure?" Jason asked.
"Jason, I need you and Gail to return home as soon as possible," I told him.
"Why?" Jason asked, but he knew I was calling about Christian. "Where is he? What's going on there, Ana?"
"I can't tell you over the phone. Christian is here, at home at Escala, and he's fine, but he really needs you to be here."
Christian reached for the phone, which I handed him.
Without emotion, Christian said, "Taylor, Anastasia has a plane to catch tomorrow morning, but she doesn't want to leave me alone because she's afraid I'm going to self harm if left alone. I sent Ryan home, so I was alone here tonight. Anastasia showed up unexpectedly. She saved my life, Jason. And... well, I need you here. I don't trust anyone else. I'm sorry."
I couldn't hear Jason's response, but Christian responded with, "Thank you." He ended the call.
I knew how unusual it was for Christian to apologize or thank his staff, so Jason hopefully knew from all that Christian had just told him how serious this situation was. I decided to bring up the promise from earlier.
"Christian, you never responded to me when I asked you to make me that promise earlier. I need to hear you say it," I told him.
He stared at me again. "I think I said something about getting shit-faced. That was my response." He grabbed a bottle of Macallan and two shot glasses. Then he sat down next to me on the sofa and poured two shots.
"Anastasia," he said. "Drink one shot with me. To life and love."
"Christian..." I started.
"Just one shot," he insisted. "Then, I'll make your promise."
I nodded. "To LONG life. And unconditional love." I sipped instead of drinking the whole shot, but Christian swallowed all of his and poured himself a new one.
He looked at me and said solemnly, "I promise you, Anastasia Steele, that I will get help. I further promise you that I will never again try to kill myself without first talking to you, since you are the one who saved me tonight. There now. Satisfied?"
"If you mean it, then yes, I'm satisfied," I answered. Did he mean it, though? As much as he always insisted on never saying anything he didn't mean, at the moment, I wasn't so sure.
"I mean it," he confirmed. "Of all people to walk in and stop me tonight, it had to be you, my dearest Anastasia. You returned to the scene of my crime, and you saved me. I'd do anything for you, Anastasia. If you want me to live, I'll live. If you want me to get help, I'll get help."
"I want you to live and get help, but I want you to want to do both," I told him. "I had no idea, Christian. How long have you...?"
"Not long. Basically, after I fucked everything up with you. I just... life's not worth living without you, Anastasia."
I swallowed. "Christian... That's... heavy. We aren't even... I mean, we haven't..."
"Doesn't matter. I know I love you," he insisted. He threw back his shot and poured himself another. "Be honest with me, Anastasia. Did you mean it earlier? You said those words when I offered you your new job too, but I knew you didn't mean them. But tonight... did you just say that to talk me down from the cliff? Or do you really...?"
I wasn't sure how to answer him. Did I love him? Honestly, the words had just come out, and I wasn't even sure how I felt. But if I told him I wasn't sure, would that be damaging to his psyche? He was so... fragile right now. I needed to be careful. But I needed to be honest. He'd know if I were lying.
"I... don't know. I've never... I know that I care very deeply for you... Yes, I love you in a friendship kind of way. I'd really like to be closer friends with you. Beyond that... I don't know. I've never been in love, so I don't know how to know. And besides, we haven't even dated. I haven't let myself think about you that way. So I... I really don't know, Christian."
Christian stared at me as he continued to drink his whisky. "It's not a no."
"Can we be friends?" I asked him.
He snorted. Yep, the alcohol was working on him. As he spoke, his speech was already sounding a bit slurred. "Remember that movie? When Harry met... Susan?"
"When Harry Met Sally?" I asked him.
"Yeah, that one. I watched that... years ago. I was a just a kid. A fucked up kid with no friends. And Harry said that men and women can never be friends because one of them would always want to fuck the other one. And I want to fuck you, Anastasia. And until I fucked everything up, I think you would have fucked me too. So how the hell do you propose this... friendship thing... will work out?
I shifted uncomfortably. I wasn't sure if he was cognizant enough to notice the blush I'm sure spread across my face. "Well, for one thing, I wish you'd stop talking about wanting to fuck me. It makes me feel dirty."
He looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, angel. I never want to make you feel dirty. I almost turned you into my whore. I'm evil, Anastasia. I don't deserve to lick the dirt off your shoes."
"Oh, shut up!" I snapped at him. "I'd almost rather hear you tell me you want to fuck me than to hear your Goddamn self-deprecating bullshit."
He took another drink, and then asked, as if I hadn't just shouted at him, "Can I make you come?"
"What?!" Surely I hadn't heard him correctly?
"I won't fuck you, I promise. I can use my hand, although I'd prefer my tongue, if you'll allow it. I've been dying to taste you since the moment I first saw your beautiful ass in my office, that day of your interview."
I squeezed my legs together quickly to try to stop the wetness. Shit! What the hell? He was asking me if he could perform oral sex... like, now? Only a few minutes after I'd stopped his suicide attempt? This was so fucked up! But dear Lord, the idea of Christian's tongue on my... that part of my body... holy shit! That idea did things to me. But he'd just fucking tried to kill himself!
"Christian, don't! You've got to stop saying things like that!" I insisted.
He didn't stop. Instead, he leaned over and sniffed me. Fucking sniffed me!
"God, you smell so good, Anastasia. You always smell so good." He glanced at my nipples, which were hard and showing through my t-shirt. His eyes got large, and he exclaimed, "Holy shit, you still want me! After everything I did... you don't hate me? You're still attracted to me?"
God, it was hot in here. I finished up my shot of whisky and only then answered him. "Christian, I'm only going to say this once, and then I really want you to stop talking and even thinking about sex. Yes, I'm attracted to you. No, I don't hate you. I already confessed that I love you, you idiot. But I am not going to fuck you tonight. There will be no sex... of any kind... not until I feel like I can trust you, and I'm not certain that day will ever come. You hurt me this week, with that stupid proposition of yours, and tonight... I can't believe what I walked in on. You need help, and I can't be with you... like that... until I know you won't do anything like either of those things again."
Christian was quiet for a minute, mulling over my words. When he finally spoke, I was very happy at the direction his thoughts had taken. "I'm going to check myself into a clinic or something. I did a lot of therapy when I was a kid, and it never helped me much, so I haven't been back to a shrink for a long time. I guess it's time to try that again. Maybe there's one out there who can help me."
"I really hope so, Christian," I told him.
"Now, it's your turn to promise me something," he said.
"What's that?" I asked him.
"Promise me that you will accept SIP from me."
"I will in one condition," I answered. "No, two, actually."
"Let me guess," he said with a smirk. "One of your conditions is that you want me to keep my promise to mentor you."
I nodded. "You did promise if I worked for you for two years, you'd do it."
"You don't have to work for me for two years, baby. It's yours already. I'll help you learn the ropes whenever you're ready."
"I'm not ready yet. Not confident enough. I knew it was something I wanted to do someday, but I was expecting it to take years, not months, to get there. I still have too much to learn."
"You just need to believe in yourself," he told me.
"Maybe, but I also need to learn more about running a business," I answered.
"SIP is small," he told me. "There's not that much to run. I believe that you can make it so much more than it is right now. And your second condition... no way. No, Anastasia. I purchased it for you. It's already yours."
"How do you know what my second condition is?" I asked him.
"Because I know you," he replied. "I know how you think. You want to pay me. But I WANT you to have it. You deserve it. You deserve so much more. You can't pay me for it. You have to accept it from me. That's... really important to me."
I sighed. I wasn't sure it was worth arguing with him about this right now. Hopefully, I would be able to convince him later.
When I didn't respond, Christian continued, "This is your dream, Anastasia. And I don't have any doubt that you are going to do well. SIP is going to be a success under your leadership."
"With your help, maybe it will," I said. "But first... I need to take care of Dad."
"Right," Christian remembered. "You're leaving soon. Christ, you're spending another sleepless night thanks to me, and you're traveling in the morning."
"Christian, I slept most of the day yesterday when you sent me home. You, on the other hand... I'm pretty sure you haven't gotten much sleep this whole week."
He looked sad again. "No, but I don't sleep much. I have... nightmares."
"Yeah, I know." I felt so sad for him.
"Can I go with you tomorrow?" he asked shyly.
I was surprised. "You're asking me for my permission?" I asked him confusedly. "To travel with me and Dad to the treatment center in Sweden that you've paid for... on your private plane?"
"Well, when you put it like that... No, I want to know you're OK with me being there. I've learned my lesson, Anastasia. I'm not going to force you into anything you don't want. Not ever again."
I sighed. "Christian, you didn't do it, so can you let it go?" I asked him.
"No, I can't. Somehow, I need to reestablish trust with you. Be honest with me, Anastasia. If I had done things differently last Tuesday... If I had told you that I'm in love with you, and that I just wanted to help your father because you love him, and I love you... would you have...? Would we have ended up...?
I cleared my throat. "I know you aren't going to start talking about sex again after I asked you not to, are you?"
Now it was his turn to sigh. "It's kind of hard not to at least think about it when you're sitting right here, looking so sexy, smelling like fresh apples and… home."
"Well, you've got to stop," I insisted. "I want us to be friends, Christian. Friends first. I honestly don't know what would have happened if you had handled things differently. I'm a virgin, remember? I wouldn't have just given it up, not without... a lot of... persuasion. And besides, I was still your employee. I AM still your employee."
Christian smirked. "Yeah, about that... you're fired."
"What! You can't fire me!" I exclaimed. What game was he playing now?
"Anastasia, I want to date you. There, I said it. I don't even know what the fuck that means, or how to go about it, but I want it, if you'll consider it. And you won't date your boss. Besides, you're going to be busy with SIP. I promise... I'll mentor you, and that's not conditional on you dating me. I promised you, no more forcing anything on you. Would you please... consider it?"
My God, things were moving too fast. In a matter of hours, Christian had gone from wanting to make me his sex slave, to setting me free, to almost killing himself, and now, to wanting to date me. I wasn't sure how to respond. Of course, part of me wanted to date him, but another part of me wanted to run away as fast as I could. I didn't believe either of us was ready yet for the kind of relationship he was suggesting.
"OK, I'll consider it, but I need time," I answered him. "I'm going to spend a few weeks in Sweden with Dad. Meanwhile, you need to keep your promise and get help, Christian. After... a few weeks... however long it takes... then we can reevaluate."
Christian smiled, and his handsome face lit up the room. "You've just made me the happiest man in the universe," he said.
I hated to burst his bubble, but I needed to give him a dose of reality. "Christian, I haven't said yes yet. I said we need to wait and see. Meanwhile, let's build our friendship."
"Anastasia, I don't want to be your friend. I want to be your boyfriend," he insisted.
"What's wrong with being friends first?" I asked him.
He hesitated, looking uncomfortable. "I was friends with... her. Elena. I don't like being friends." He sounded almost childlike.
"Christian, that bitch was not your friend, ever. She's a pedophile, and she only manipulated you. Whatever you had with her, that's not friendship."
He was listening to me carefully, considering my words. I willed him to believe me, that that monster was never his friend.
Finally, he nodded. "OK, so what does friendship look like?" he asked.
I felt like we were finally getting somewhere. "Well, to start with, we hang out together. Kind of like we've already done on occasion. When I beat you at poker. And when we went sightseeing together. That was fun."
"So... we're already friends," he pointed out.
"Yes!" I agreed. "We are, and I want to be... deeper friends. Being deeper friends means we open up about ourselves. We tell each other things we don't tell just anybody."
"Like when I told you I want to taste your pussy?" he asked innocently. Bastard! He knew what he was doing.
"No! Not yet! You shouldn't say shit like that to me until I've agreed to date you. I haven't yet."
"So... you're saying that when you agree to date me, you'll let me eat your pussy?" he asked.
"God damn it, Christian! Can you focus?" I demanded. God, he exasperated me. "Friends first! No pussy licking for quite some time, if ever! For now, we talk on the phone. Often. I want to call you from Sweden. I want you to call me. I want to keep you updated on Dad's progress, and I want you to care how he's doing. And I want you to keep me updated on your therapy. I want to know that you're getting better, that you'll never... do what you almost did tonight."
"Anastasia, I promise... I've already promised you, and I'll say it again. I will never try to kill myself again without talking to you first. And I know, if things ever get that bad again, you'll talk me down. So that means that I'll never attempt suicide ever again. You have my word."
"I'm glad to hear that," I told him, but I wasn't convinced that if he felt low enough again, that he would keep this promise. I needed to see how the treatment went for him. But I didn't need to tell him this, at least not right now. "Now, here's another thing about being friends. I want you to call me Ana."
"But... I like calling you Anastasia. It's a beautiful name, fit for a princess like you."
"Well, I don't like it, and you're the only one who calls me that," I snapped. "I've never liked my name. It sounds too much like 'anesthesia.' Everybody calls me Ana. And I would really like it if you called me Ana, too."
"As you wish, Ana," he responded. Damn, I liked the sound of that. Damn, I just got wet again. What the hell was I thinking?
"If I'd known that calling you Ana was going to make you smile at me like that, I'd have done it long ago," Christian said. Then he glanced at my lips. Oh, shit!
I jumped up from the couch as if my ass were on fire. "I need to pee," I announced. I ran to the bathroom and used it, taking a few minutes after I washed my hands just to compose myself. My God, what a night!
When I returned to Christian's living room, he'd started the fire in the fireplace and lit a couple of candles. He'd even started playing some soft music. What he hell was he doing?
"Christian... we can't... I'm not ready for..."
"Shh... Ana. Come here. Do friends... snuggle?" he asked shyly.
I swallowed. "Christian, I need you to make me another promise."
"Anything for you, sweet Ana," he responded.
"You have to promise me that you'll stop making sexual references or asking me if I will do sexual things with you. No more talk of sex of any kind. Not until I agree to date you, and that's not going to happen for months, if it happens at all. If you can agree to this, then I'll agree to... cuddle."
He was quiet as he considered my words. After a moment, he asked, "Does kissing count?"
Did it? Hell, I didn't know. I guess it was up to me. How much did I want Christian to kiss me again?
"No, kissing doesn't count," I answered. "As long as it doesn't... get too carried away. Only on the lips, face, or hands. Nowhere else."
He smiled like the cat that ate the canary. "I promise, Ana. No more talk of sex. Not until you're mine. Now, come here and cuddle with your friend."
So I did, and we spent the next few hours talking about anything and everything. At some point, we ended up lying on the sofa, cuddled in each other's arms. I didn't allow myself to overthink it. It felt... comforting. He didn't try to kiss me immediately, which made me feel... safe.
"I have a question," he asked me at one point.
"Ask it," I answered.
"I know you've been in relationships in the past. At least three of them. So... how far did you go?"
I felt my hackles rising. "How do you know I've been in three relationships?" I asked him.
"It was in your background report," he answered honestly.
I raised up so I could see his face. We'd turned the lights off earlier, so the only light was from the fire, so his face was unfortunately partially hidden in shadows. "What else was in my 'background report'?" I asked angrily.
He looked confused. "Calm down, Ana. I run a background report on everybody I'm considering hiring."
"With personal information... like their dating history?" I asked incredulously.
"Sometimes, yes," he answered. "I also know about your mother in Georgia. Of course I knew about Raymond Steele before you mentioned him. Not that he was sick, but that he was your dad. The one you claimed as your dad. Not your biological dad. He died when you were an infant. And your mother has married other men since Raymond Steele, but you haven't lived with her since... well, I didn't learn this in your background report. I learned it from you. One of them tried to rape you."
"You remember me telling you about that?" I asked him.
"Of course," he answered. "I remember everything you tell me."
"I thought you'd forgotten when you... well, never mind. I can't believe you ran a background check on me," I said.
"Well, I did," he responded unapologetically.
I was glad he wasn't asking me to tell him what I'd almost said. How could he have shown me that room and thought I'd be willing to do that after what Number Three had done to me? But better not to focus on that now, because it would just make him hate himself more than he already did. But I wasn't finished with this conversation. Controlling bastard!
I continued angrily, "What did it tell you about my mother? Did it tell you that I haven't spoken to her in over a year? When I called to invite her to my graduation, and she blew me off?"
"No, it didn't tell me that," he admitted. "And I'm sorry to hear it, but I'm not surprised after what you told me about her staying with the husband who tried to rape you. Your mother is an idiot to miss out on the life of her beautiful daughter."
"Smooth, Christian. Really smooth," I responded sarcastically. "What else did that fucking report tell you?"
He answered, "Well, I know you dated a guy in high school. Greg McKay. Very ordinary sounding name."
"Interesting observation," I said. "He was an ordinary guy. My first kiss, though."
"Ordinary kiss?" he asked.
"Very ordinary," I answered.
"You dated another guy when you started college. Paul Clayton. He was the son of the guy who ran the hardware store you worked at." Everything he'd just said had been statements, no questions. I sighed.
"Paul was away at college in Boston for almost the entirety of our relationship. He kissed me maybe... twice. That's all. I found out from Facebook that he was a cheater. No thank you."
"So that leaves Jose Rodriguez. The photographer." Again, no questions.
"The son of a bitch. He used to be my friend. I made the mistake of agreeing to date him during our senior year. Biggest mistake I've ever made. I thought he cared about me. But he only wanted to get me into bed."
"Did he?" Christian asked. Oh, now he has a question?
"What, get me into bed?" I asked. "Well, you tell me. I'm still a virgin."
"You can do more in bed than just sex, Ana," Christian pointed out. Really? Like what? Sleep?
"No, he never got me into bed," I answered. "He tried, but he ended up with a broken nose."
"You broke his nose?" he asked, trying to hide his humor but not succeeding.
"Yeah, I did. Remember me telling you after I landed you on your ass at our interview that I'd had a couple of close calls in college? Well, Jose was one of those close calls. He thought for some reason that since I'd agreed to date him, that he could do whatever the hell he wanted without my consent. That didn't work out so well for Jose. And remember me telling you after I almost broke Luke's wrist that it wouldn't have been the first time I'd broken bones? I was referring to Jose's broken nose."
"Well, he deserved it," Christian agreed. "Only a real asshole would try to force you into something you don't want to do."
I didn't tell Christian that I'd talked to Jose again only a month or so ago. Kate had called me to alert me that Jose's photography was hanging in a gallery here in Seattle, and it included several large photos of me. A friend in common had alerted her, and she'd gone and seen for herself. She had taken pictures with her iPhone and sent them to me, and I was shocked. I had not consented to his taking the photos of me, much less displaying them. In one of them, I was sleeping, and part of my breast was exposed. I'd wondered if he had purposefully moved me, since I slept like the dead. In another, I was wearing a bikini, and I looked like a Sports Illustrated model. It wasn't something I aspired to. I didn't appreciate his taking advantage of our former friendship, and I was very angry that my image was out there like that. I was already being pictured in the media with Christian, proclaimed to be a gold digger who was chasing him. Jose's photos of me didn't help my public image at all.
The next day after I heard from Kate, I contacted Jose and threatened to sue him unless he removed the photos of me. Surprisingly, he didn't argue with me. He agreed immediately to take down the photos, and he even apologized for not getting my permission to hang them. He promised to never use any images of me again. And so, that was that. I let it go.
Right now though, I knew that Christian's comments were directed towards himself, not Jose. And so I forgot about the insignificant Jose Rodriguez and focused on the man who mattered to me. "Christian, you didn't force me into something I didn't want to do. I signed your stupid contract, remember? Right before you shredded it?"
"You only signed it because of your dad's health. I was so wrong, Ana. I'm such an asshole."
I responded, "Yes, I agree, you're an asshole, and you were wrong. Now, can you fucking get over it? Stop bringing it up. Stop thinking about it at all. I'm so over it. You need to get over it too."
"OK, I'll try," he promised. We lay there for a few moments just... being. Then, Christian asked me, "Ana...?"
"Yes, Christian?" I answered when he didn't continue.
"Can I... kiss you?" he asked tentatively.
Oh, shit! Could I do this? Should I? But damn, how I wanted it. I'd been thinking about that kiss from Taiwan for months.
"Yes," I answered. "But only if you promise not to take it too far. I'm not ready for that, Christian."
And then his lips were on mine, and they felt... incredible. This kiss was very different than the one we'd shared in Taiwan. That one had been desperate, passionate, and electric. This one was tender and full of emotion. Christian was pouring everything that he felt for me into the kiss, and I returned it, letting him know I felt it too. The kiss only lasted for a minute or two. I knew we both wanted to continue, but I also knew that Christian ended it out of respect for my wishes.
After that, Christian and I talked about some of the places we'd visited in England and France when we'd gone there. He told me about places he wanted me to see next. I wasn't sure how that was going to work if I was no longer his assistant. What reason would I have to travel with him?
At some point, after a couple more kisses very similar to the first one from this evening, we both fell asleep there on the sofa, in each other's arms. And in spite of everything that had happened this week, and this very evening, I'd never felt safer than I did there, in Christian's arms.