Chapter eight

In the next moment, I found myself face to face with Anastasia as she was letting herself out of my father's room, quietly closing the door behind her. She looked so innocent and sweet, it made me even angrier.

"Christian, what's wrong?" She asked, suddenly alarmed by my demeanor.

"Don't...don't you ever talk to him again. Do you understand? You're married to me now and there's absolutely no reason for you to talk to him ever again!"

"I-Elena," I trailed off, overwhelmed.

"No excuses, Anastasia. You do what I say. Capiche?" I said, throwing in some Italian, just because Italian and Spanish are both romance languages.

She looked stricken. "But Elena... she put me on the phone with him!"

I decided to ignore that. I turned around, determined to find Elena. I found her halfway between dad's room and my office. The question that kept burning inside my head was, how did Elena know where to find that man? I never shared any information I got from Ana with her. So, how did she know?

"She told me herself... she told me her boyfriend's name, and that he was in jail for political reasons."

I shook my head in disbelief. Ana didn't strike me as the kind of girl that would readily share such a personal of information, but I supposed it could have happened when Elena had her take the pregnancy test. Admittedly, having her take the test had been Elena's idea. Still, I had no objections to it; it seemed like a reasonable precaution.

….

Ana POV

Christian left me feeling lost and confused. After debating what to do for a long while, I made my way back to the library. I plopped down on the same armchair where I had been reading earlier before Christian came to take me to see his father. By the way, I still can't believe how happy his father was to learn I was expecting. I can't help but feel guilty for participating in such deception.

I was disappointed in myself.

I let Christian down. All he wanted was a wife to make his father happy and how do I pay him back?

I can't go down a road of treachery and infidelity. I got to make a decision right now and stick by it.

I cannot be one of those women involved in a reverse love triangle. I say reverse because in all the telenovelas (soap operas) I've ever seen, the man is the one who has a competing love interest, and NEVER the other way around.

Every female telenovela protagonist I've ever known endured it all with grace. In Maria la del Barrio, the main character, Maria, suffers in the hand of her enemy who regularly called her names. and then later seduces the man Maria loves. The other woman goes as far as seducing him and getting him drunk and then shows him a FAKE pregnancy test in order to get him to marry her.

I don't want my life to turn out like a soap opera, although I do want to be like Maria, the perfect model of faithfulness. I just want to do the right thing. Plus in the end, everything does work out for Maria even if she had to wait 14 years for her happily ever after.

Life is really confusing right now, the change has been like night and day... I feel alone and afraid. I feel like all of a sudden life has thrown me into this enormous pit, and the way out is climbing out is on my hands and knees but the walls are made of slippery mud.

Everything around me is so new and foreign, I no longer know what to expect or what's expected of me. I'm terrified of making a mistake. This is not normal for me. While it's true that I lived the life of a nomad, there was some predictability in the chaos. I knew who I was and what was expected of me. But not anymore. I don't even know what to think, what to make of things.

For example, when a servant came in to ask whether I wanted to come to the dining room to for lunch or be served in the library, I didn't know what was the right thing to do. Should go and find Christian and ask him? Should I just politely decline? I had no idea.

I wished the woman who came to ask me was Mrs. Jones who had smiled at me warmly. This other woman, on the other hand, was only focused on doing her job and going on to her next task. She stared at me expectantly as she waited for my answer.

"I don't know. What does Mr. Grey usually do?"

The woman looked at me blankly. "Mr. Grey doesn't usually have lunch here on weekdays."

Well, I thought, that certainly doesn't help any, does it?

"I will eat later then," I answered vaguely, not meeting her gaze, feeling her eyes on me, and wishing she would just leave. In all honesty, I was still full from breakfast and eating was the furthest thing from my mind. It occurred to me right then and there, I was immensely lucky to be free from morning sickness thus far. The thought certainly took a load off my mind.

Rather than keep beating myself up, I picked up Jane Eyre again. I hadn't gotten very far in the book since the style is quite descriptive and formal and it was written in the Old English of the Victorian era. There are vocabulary words that I didn't understand and so I had to make educated guesses. The storyline was gripping; it's about this orphaned girl who lives with a family that hates her and constantly reminds her of her worthlessness.

I don't know why, but I immediately identify with her plight. I also feel lonely and worthless living in a place where I clearly don't belong.

I don't know how much time has gone by, but I'm now on page 30. There's so much silence around me, it's frightening. There are no city sounds or animal sounds remotely nearby. Not even music playing in the distance.

Needing to stretch my legs, I got up and started exploring on my own. I soon realized this was a big mistake. This place was so big, I could easily get lost, never to be found again.

After about an hour of wandering about, I ran into Mrs. Jones and I breathe I sigh of relief. She was in the room adjacent to the kitchen, dusting the china cabinet.

"Mrs. Grey, were you looking for me?"

I stared at her blankly. For a fraction of a second, I thought she's talking to someone else, but then I realized it is me she was talking to. Good Lord!

"I—I," I stumbled feeling like an idiot but at least Mrs. Jones was not judging me. I feel I can trust her. "I was lost."

Mrs. Jones smiled kindly. "You look a little pale. Come with me, I will get you something to eat," she said. I was so glad to see her taking charge. I was awfully thirsty.

She led me to the kitchen. I sit at the kitchen island and she asked me what I wanted to eat. Soup and salad? Chicken and rice? She also offered to fix me anything else I wanted from my home country, she said she could look up the recipes.

I was touched beyond words that she would be willing to go to all that trouble. I just asked for some water and told her and thanked her. I explained I wasn't hungry.

She shook her head. "You got to eat something though. How about a small snack?" She asked and without waiting for a response, she served me what she referred to as a chicken Caesar salad sprinkled with Parmesan cheese. So this was her version of a snack? To me, it was a complete meal.

Not wanting to offend her, I took a bite. It was absolutely delicious. I ended up eating about half of what she served me and downed two full glasses of water.

"How about Mr. Grey? What is he having for lunch?"

"Mr. Grey already had his lunch served in his office."

I felt deflated that Christian had lunch alone. It seemed quite sad. Why hadn't he called for me? Was he still angry?

"It is time for his snack, though," she said looking at a computer screen to the side of the kitchen island. She then got busy preparing a plate with grapes, crackers and cheese and a spread I couldn't identify by looking at it.

"I will take it to him," I said, longing to feel useful and Mrs. Jones hesitated. She had everything already served in a silver platter. I got up to pick up the tray anyway, already seeing the appreciative smile on Christian's face as though it was happening right now.

Mrs. Jones sighed in resignation and walked with me to Christian's office.

Christian's eyes narrowed when he saw me standing there with the tray. When I glanced back over my shoulder, I found that Mrs. Jones had already disappeared.

"Anastasia, you are not the hired help, please don't stand there like that, waiting," he snapped at me and I immediately moved to place the tray on his desk where he motioned me to put it.

Christian's attention promptly returned to his computer.

"Please don't be mad at me," I said breathlessly, feeling terribly insecure. "I will do whatever you want, including sleeping with you like husband and wife."

I felt the power of his steel gaze on me and I knew at once I had said the wrong thing; the words came out carelessly in one breath as though I was trying to get it over with.

He looked so offended I wanted to slap myself.

"You're offering to sleep with me while you're in love with another man...out of what? Obligation?" He shook his head, disgusted at the thought. "No, Anastasia. I will not sleep with you until you beg me to make love to you...and not a minute sooner."

I stared at him flabbergasted.

"So now, if you don't mind, I need to go back to work," he told me and I continued to stare at him in shock at the sharpness in his tone.

"What's the matter? Are you bored? Need something to do?"

"No, no. I can just go back to reading."

"Perfect. See you later at dinner," he said coldly, his eyes at once returning to the computer screen.

Christian has the right to be mad at me, I thought as I closed the door to his office behind me. He was my husband now and he has the right to expect me to leave my past behind. Why couldn't I just be a dutiful wife and forget the man I left behind?

Because I love him.

Love? Who?

Jose, of course.

Are you sure?

Are you sure you love Jose, romance novel style? Maybe you just love him like a woman loves her best friend and that's all there is to it. The thought came out of nowhere, leaving me feeling like I wasn't sure of anything anymore.