Chapter Twenty-three

We're on our way home from Bellevue, and Christian is still barely speaking to me, but he holds my hand when I offer him my upturned palm, so I say, "Thank you."

"I'm still angry with you."

It seems like progress, that he's finally said it, and I suggest, "That must be very confusing for you."

"Sorry?"

Managing to keep a straight face, I explain, "Trying to stay angry with your wife when she's helped save your sister, again."

In the time it takes him to reply, I only notice that I'd been holding my breath when he agrees, "Yes, you did." I'm still chasing my breath when he lifts my hand to his lips for a moment, and then says, "Thank you."

"Any time." With the strain in our relationship finally easing, I'm tempted to leave him be, but I need to know, "Where were you last night and this morning?"

Unfortunately, it requires that he release my hand, but at least he answers. "With Seattle PD, and a couple of FBI agents."

Given that Mia wasn't missing very long, I presume, "To pursue Laurent?"

"Yes."

Someone would have mentioned if they'd succeeded. "Is he still in the country?"

"No."

"Mia's right."

He swivels to look at me so fast that I actually hear the movement, and he again says, "Sorry?"

"Sometimes, it's like pulling teeth to get anything from you."

He sighs and says, "Then stop trying."

He's probably right; this is pointless while he's sulking, so I change tack. "I wanted to say, thank you for contacting my parents last night. I'm not used to being famous, and didn't even think that they might hear about the kidnapping before I could reassure them."

"You're welcome, Anastasia."

"And when did you put a protection detail on them?"

"After someone left a note on Gail's car."

"Did you deliberately keep that information from me?"

"Only in that I didn't want you to needlessly worry. The chance that anyone might go after Carla or Ray seems remote, but I'm not willing to take that chance."

It honestly hadn't even occurred to me that my parents might be targeted—especially Mom in Georgia—but of course the distance would mean nothing to someone with money to spare. "You really do think of everything." When he says nothing, I beg, "Christian?"

As the silence stretches on, it seems like he's had enough conversation, but then he takes a deep breath and reveals, "I talked to Laurent last night."

"You called him?"

"Yeah, though we didn't really expect him to answer; weren't even sure he'd still have the same phone. The feds had his location, and hoped that I could delay him until police got there. Whether or not the kidnapping was successful, we figured he'd be ready to flee the country. He said..." When he stalls, I again rest a hand between us, and he's holding my hand as he explains, "I'm the reason Mia was kidnapped."

He sounds stricken enough to be in earnest, but it doesn't make sense. "I don't think so, darling."

"He didn't even want her anymore. He only took her because I...a few weeks ago, Mia mentioned that he'd been harassing her, so I called him."

Finally understanding, I guess, "You threatened a mobster?"

He huffs a bitter laugh, and says, "Yeah."

"With what?"

"Me."

I've never before heard such a threat of violence in such a small word, and then I'm recalling Mia's absolute confidence that nothing could stop Christian if one of his family were in need. But I don't imagine Laurent is easily cowed. "I take it he wasn't intimidated?"

"No. He laughed and said no one keeps him from a prize, even one that has lost its allure." I wonder if he even notices that his grip on my hand tightens as he explains, "And then I understood that being unable to even contact Mia was the only reason he still pursued her. Last night he confirmed it."

All this time, he was confident that Laurent was after Mia? That party must have been an absolute nightmare for him. "Darling, why on earth didn't you tell me this?" I'm so focused on him that I feel his shrug, though he says nothing, so I ask, "What happened to us being partners?"

"In business. Not this shit."

I'm worried what a toll this conversation is taking on him, so keep my tone gentle when I use his words to remind him, "In all things." He doesn't reply, but the pressure on my hand eases, and it's as if the tension between us also lessens. I ponder for a few seconds how to move forward, and then say, "I'll go first; the next time anyone wants to tell me something in confidence, I shall warn them that I trust my husband completely, and keep nothing from him."

"Ana, baby, you don't need to do that. I'm glad Mia trusts you."

It seems like I'm forgiven, though he hasn't said it. I smile, and assert, "You're not the boss of me. I choose my own course."

He chuckles, and says, "Yes, you do." And then he snuggles against me, kisses my forehead, and says, "I'm not angry with you anymore."

Savoring the embrace for a few seconds, I then ask, "And how do you feel about Christian Grey?"

He tenses, and confirms, "Him, I'm not so crazy about. He keeps making reckless decisions."

I doubt that anything I say can appease his self-loathing, but I attempt, "Always with the best intentions."

"Good intentions are famously ineffective."

"Still, nothing much gets done without them, and you're not to blame for Laurent being a psycho." And then I finally understand why Christian has been so distant; it wasn't really anything to do with me. "If he no longer wanted her...?"

I feel Christian's heartrate catch up with mine, and he says, "That's why we missed him; he was already in the air, flying low enough to receive my call. And I presume the logged flight plan was bullshit or he'd be in custody by now. Best guess is he sneaked across the border to Canada, and then to France under an assumed identity."

"Oh. So...they would have killed her?"

"I'd assume try for a ransom, except...I figured Mia doesn't need to know that he referred to her as their 'bonus' for managing to find a way around all the security."

It's several seconds before I can form words, and then it's only to utter, "Fuck."

"Yeah." We're quiet for a long time, and I wonder if Christian is also trying desperately to avoid seeing images of what might have happened. And then he says, "I'm sorry that I shut you out. I hope you know that, if I could have coped another way, I would have."

"It's all right, darling. I knew you'd return to me."

"It wasn't too painful for you?"

Haven't just vowed to keep nothing from him, I still hesitate to reveal, "Well, it wasn't fun, hence my meltdown in the middle of the night." He's again quiet for a while, and I remember to say, "Thank you, for eventually joining me in bed, and for comforting me."

His tone gentle, Christian says, "I didn't actually want you to suffer. I just didn't know how to deal with my feelings, and obviously was a little preoccupied with rescuing Mia and then hunting Laurent. It was a good idea to remind me that you'd never force me into anything; it helped me choose trust. And your cheeky text this morning reassured me that you were coping just fine."

That makes me smile, but then I recall how awful it felt when he seemed cold, and lose the smile to mumble, "I thought you blamed me for Mia being taken."

"No. I mean, perhaps for an instant. Mainly, I was filled with rage, and got worried what I might do with it."

As I feared, he's still convinced that he could hurt me. There's nothing I can do about that either. "You'll discuss all this with John?"

"I will."

"Okay."

"Okay? You're not upset that I didn't trust myself to be around you?"

Honestly, he's clueless sometimes. "Of course it upsets me, but you're not doing it to me; you're merely mistaken." He makes no reply, and I swear that the air is suddenly alive. "Christian?"

Every word is fire when he accuses, "You rolled your eyes at me."

Dominant Christian. Excellent. An answering warmth is spreading through my body as I suggest, "Red room?"

His lips are on mine, and his tongue is on mine, until I'm giddy with need. And then he takes an unsteady breath before saying, "If I can wait that long."

Ana and I don't make it to the playroom, mainly because the moment we're alone, she comes at me like a wild thing, literally ripping the clothes from my back in her haste. At the sound of my t-shirt yielding, she giggles and says, "Oops."

I've already helped her out of her jeans, and undone the top buttons on her blouse, so I hook one finger in the front of her bra, asking, "Is this a favorite?"

Her smile serene, she shakes her head, saying, "Seems only fair, since I've ruined your shirt."

It proves to be a quality garment, and two hands are needed to split it down the middle, buttons pinging off the wall as her blouse goes with it. Ana gasps, and then launches herself at me, jumping up and wrapping her legs around my waist. I catch her and hold her, our mouths clashing like combatants, tongues wrestling for control. Seems like my wife is in a forceful mood this evening. When there's enough room between us for speech, I ask, "Ana?"

Her eyes are glazed with desire when she instructs, "Take me."

We make it inside our bedroom, but not to the bed, because the weight of our mutual need pushes us to the floor. Even as her back touches the carpet, Ana spreads her legs wide and starts tugging my jeans open, while I shred her panties enough to grant me access. The ease with which I slide into her confirms that she's just as desperate as I am to reconnect in every way we can. Finally where I most long to be, a calm settles upon me, so that I'm able to just hold myself there, relishing the exquisite feeling. But it seems that Ana has other ideas, because she grinds against me, her legs again wrapped around my waist, as her hands roam over my back and shoulders, encouraging more, so I remind her, "Easy, baby, we've got all night."

A strangled growl of protest rumbles from her throat, and then she's pushing at me. I realize what she wants, and clasp her tight as I roll both of us until she's on top. This power shift isn't something I'm used to, even with Ana. But her clothing in tatters, her hair ruffled, and her face strained with passion is incredibly hot. I'm captive and captivated as she rides me to a quick orgasm. As always, I'm willing to leave it at that, if she's had enough. But I'm really hoping she hasn't. It's a shock when she suddenly lifts herself from me, though I'm reassured by the fact that she grabs my cock as she slides down my legs a little. When her mouth descends on me, I try to watch. But the sweet, sweet feeling closes my eyes and drops my head back, and a sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan escapes me. I don't like to finish here, but Ana is still out of control, and I finally surrender all mine, erupting inside her with one hand knotted in her hair, and the other clawing at the carpet.

I'm still panting, unable to speak or move, when Ana chuckles and says, "Your turn."

I manage to gasp, "What?"

"I took you, now you take me."

I glance at my already waning cock, and point out, "Baby, you've literally sucked me dry; you'll have to wait a bit."

Ana stands with a seemingly impossible grace, and divests herself of what remains of her outfit, saying, "That's all right, I'm not in a hurry anymore, Sir."

I am the luckiest man alive.

Finally sated and in bed together, Ana moves into my embrace, and we simply enjoy that closeness for a while before she says, "Darling, you're a guy."

That makes me smile. "Pretty sure we confirmed that earlier."

She giggles, and says, "Yeah. I was wondering, as a guy, do you have any idea why some men get fixated on women?"

"You're speaking of Sean and Laurent?"

"Yeah. If it's too soon to talk about it, that's fine."

I have thought about this, at least partly because I once feared that I was the same, but meeting Ana confirmed that I'm not. Just knowing she exists in the world is enough; anything else is a treasured bonus. And the reason I could never bring myself to offer all those women more than weekends was simply because I wasn't in love with any of them. "No, I'm okay. I don't know how or why their brains get so fucked up, but I know that it amounts to a belief that women are lesser humans, or not even human at all."

Ana ponders that, and then asks, "Like they're a pet?"

"Or an object. Flynn would probably explain it better. Which reminds me, I know you mistrust shrinks, but he really is very good, and is willing to offer you a confidential ear if you're struggling to cope."

She caresses my chest, saying, "You're all the therapy I need."

So I must kiss her, before saying, "Hopefully, I can one day promise you the same."

"Does John think that likely?"

"He does. Anything that's wrong with my brain was caused by trauma, and I'm getting better all the time. I mean, being with you presents its own challenges, because the feelings are more intense, but he believes that I'll ultimately be able to function without meds or therapy."

She kisses my shoulder, and says, "Christian, that's wonderful. So, other than maybe autism, he doesn't think our children will inherit any shades?"

"Not unless you have some hidden away."

I feel her smile against my skin, and she says, "Well, I'm a bit kinky."

And I need to kiss her again, before agreeing, "Yes, you are."

We're again quiet for several seconds, and the Ana asks, "You know men like that?"

"You mean Doms like that."

"Yeah."

I smile, and tease, "You think we all hang out together?"

Ana squirms, and says, "Well, no...I don't know. You're the only one I've met."

I kiss her forehead in apology, and then explain, "Oh, you've met them. And, with your current knowledge and ability to truly see people, you could probably identify them after a few minutes of conversation. Obviously, we don't walk around with a flogger in our back pocket, but my dominant side has helped me in business."

"I can see how that might help. But, surely, not every CEO is a Dom or sociopath?"

"Doubt it. But, like so many things, it's probably a spectrum. And some CEOs are women."

"Darling, women can be sociopaths too."

She's right. "Yeah, I guess, though I don't know any."

"Well, one."

I don't at first know who she's talking about, and am about to say so, when I realize, "Elena?"

This is still not a subject we can easily discuss, and Ana merely says, "Uh, huh."

I don't know that I agree, and just thinking about it makes me very uncomfortable. In the past, I'd need to flee the source of my discomfort, but it's Ana, and being apart from her is worse. So I take a deep breath, and force myself to relax before finally asking, "What makes you say that?"

As if she saw my entire thought process just now, Ana kisses my chest, and says, "Thank you, darling. Uh, a few reasons: the fact that she seduced you when you were a child, that she forced you into a submissive role until you threatened to leave her, and the way she talked about you that time at Bellevue. It was obvious even then that she didn't really know you at all." When I can't think of a reply, she continues, "I believe she does care about you, in a way, but she also feels possessive of you, as if you're an extension of her, which is why she couldn't deal any time you acted independently of her."

It still feels like a lie, even as it makes sense, and Ana is an excellent judge of character. "Maybe."

"Rather talk about something else?"

I keep forgetting that Ana doesn't require me to bare my soul, not until I'm ready. "Anything else." Of course, I'm then stuck for ideas, until I remember, "Oh, have you decided if you want me there, for the infusion?"

"Please." She laughs a little, and says, "At least you sulking meant that I didn't have to contend with an overattentive husband for a while."

I'm not genuinely offended, but argue, "Not sulking, traumatized by the memory of hurting you while I was poisoned."

She giggles, and says, "Okay, darling." We're then quiet for a while, until Ana points out, "We've already been through a lot together, haven't we?"

"Certainly more than average newlyweds."

"Do you feel as if...? It's like, after the dust settles each time, I feel even closer to you."

The recent memory of her frenzied fucking almost enough to make me want her all over again, I tease, "And more domineering."

She hides her face against my chest, saying, "I can't believe that I ripped your shirt."

"Baby, feel free to have at me any time. I ask only that you spare the tie you gave me."

"Deal." And then she sighs, and says, "Well, I'd better get some sleep, or I won't be much use tomorrow."

That's a shock. "You're still going to work?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because your sister-in-law was kidnapped only last night."

"And she's fine. Everyone is. Monday means senior staff meeting. I need to be there."

I know that it's a symptom, but after such a close call, the thought of her being more than an arm's length away fills me with dread. I'm sure she can feel my heart race even contemplating it. I know Ana won't be persuaded by my shades, nor should she, so I instead attempt, "You know, studies show that Tuesday is actually the best day to schedule staff meetings."

She laughs, and asks, "Is that true?"

"Swear; it's best for both productivity and attendance."

"Well, I'll bring it up at the meeting, but I'll still go. It is technically Halloween tomorrow, so how about I also suggest everyone go home early?"

"Why don't you just tell them?"

"Because Jan is publisher, and things are awkward enough without me issuing edicts." This is my own fault. I'm silently stewing when Ana says, "And don't pout. Blip and I need sleep." I wonder, at first, if I misheard, but then she utters "Fuck," and I realize she's weeping.

I hold her close, promising, "Hey, it's okay. It'll hit us from time to time. It doesn't mean we love this baby less."

Ana soon settles down, and dries her eyes, saying, "Yeah, I know. It just sneaks up on me occasionally. Thank you, darling."

"For?"

"Understanding."

"Of course. You lost a part of you, but it sometimes feels like I did too." Inspiration strikes, and I suggest, "How about we call this little one 'T'? All we need do is choose an appropriate girl's name as an option."

Ana's hand moves from my chest to her belly, as she says, "I like that. Goodnight, T." And then she kisses me, before saying, "Goodnight, darling."

I lift the covers long enough to kiss her abdomen, saying, "Goodnight, T." And then I kiss my beloved, and say, "In answer to your question, yes, every trial we face makes me love you more. But then, every day with you does that."

I wonder if she'll weep some more. Instead, her eyes darken so that they're black in this dim light, though I'm guessing they're actually deep purple. I grin, and ask, "You going to destroy another shirt?"

Her laugh breaks the mood, and then she says "Not tonight. But you'd better avoid wearing anything precious. I love you, Christian."

Those three words have enormous power over me. Right now, they rock my breath and set me trembling. I guess the past twenty-four hours took even more of a toll than I'd realized. As usual reading my mind, Ana adjusts our positions until she's cradling me in her arms. I don't have a memory of being like this with anyone, even as a child, but it's incredibly soothing, and I'm instantly sleepy. The last words I hear are, "I'm not going anywhere."

End of Part Three