Chapter 5

Christian

Fabulichn claims they've found a culprit, which seems impossible. The contractor started the security breach investigation twenty-four hours ago. Christian waits for the representative to get online, checking his watch.

Christian sulks in the upstairs conference room. Don't think about it. The Greenhouse. The unexpected kiss. The attraction. It won't happen again. She's an employee. Got it.

The notification alert buzzes; a chat box appears. No doubt Fabulichn got ahead of themselves and wants more time. Snickering, he enters the passcode. Two names pop up on the screen. Suspects.

Tyler Wiley, Russell Lincoln.

Niall walks in and points to the screen. "That was fast. Who the fuck are those people?"

Christian's chooses to balk at the question. Elena's ex-husband's involved and her nephew. "We should start planning the legal investigation. Want to call Jeremy and ask for…"

"Christian," Niall snaps. "Who's are these people?"

"Tyler's a new employee." Christian says, slowly. "He works in customer service."

"What about Russell?" Niall pauses, connecting the dots. "Isn't Lincoln your business partner's last name, the salon lady? The one who kept calling you in college."

Christian stays silent and starts scrolling through the data, shaking his head. His competitors didn't attack GEH. He takes a deep breath, slowing his growing rage.

"This is connected to the salon lady," Niall quips, tugging the wireless keyboard from Christian hands. "Let me see that."

Christian stands up and exits the small conference room. His hands in fists. He wants to punch one of the guest house's walls. No. Stop it.

He dials Andrea's number. "I need an appointment with Danny Ingram, in Customer Service, today," he commands, walking down the hallway.

"Yes, sir. Is there anything else I can do for you?" Andrea replies.

"Arrange an appointment with Legal…" Christian pauses, stopping walking. A framed picture of the Vetiver. His heart beats faster.

"I'll be right on it. Does tomorrow morning work?"

"Yes." Christian continues staring at the photograph. Unease returning. He clears his throat. Ana. She needs to go. "And Andrea, arrange for Miss Steele to go back to telecommuting–we're done here. Make sure she gets a bonus."

º-º-º-º-º

Anastasia

I start climbing the three flights to our condo. I don't need the elevator today. I need to climb faster to release this energy. The roughly two-hour drive back provided me with ample time to reflect on the kiss. More so because my Volkswagen's radio wasn't working, again.

I get to the third floor and my heart pounds from my unplanned cardio workout. I can't stop thinking about Christian. My unexpected, unplanned kiss produced information–he's attracted to me. But, not enough. I wipe the sweat off on my forehead.

"Kate!" I yell, as I unlock the condo door. "I'm back."

I'm walking towards her bedroom when I notice crafting supplies littering our coffee tables. There are three strangers sitting on our couch. I do a double take.

A Hispanic woman waves in my direction. "Are you Kate's roommate?" She asks.

"Um, yes," I stutter, covering my face with my hand. The pandemic's not over. Why is Kate having a party? Wait. The protest. It's the planning committee.

"I didn't know you when you'd be back in Seattle. I thought you'd still be on the off-site work assignment." Kate says, rushing towards me. She hugs me.

I stiffen. There's so much I want to share. But now…I can't. We're not alone. Maybe it's best to keep my experience with Christian secret.

"We all have face masks," Kate adds.

I try to keep my face as neutral as possible as we sit down. I don't know these people.

"Our condo has been serving as a community organizing space." Kate explains as she gestures towards the tufted ottoman. "We have been meeting a few people at a time, definitely distancing." She hesitates, judging my reaction.

I nod and plaster on a fake smile.

"Marie is Seattle's movement leader."

A young black woman smiles.

"It's nice to meet you guys," I say, managing a weak smile.

"You're still working, right? Go ahead and use my room. It's bigger."

"Thanks, Kate!" My voice is upbeat. But I'm blinking back tears.

She doesn't ask me any questions, as I walk toward her bedroom. She's focused. In the zone.

My eyes start watering when I get to her stylish desk. I go into her bathroom and splash some cold water on my face. I never got any closure. It's like the kiss didn't happen.

º-º-º-º-º

A few days pass. Kate told the others to stay away from her room to let me work.

The group's getting rowdy in the living room. They're erupting in giggles. A meme. Or something else. I'm glad I don't have any video calls this morning.

Marie's voice quiets them. It's strong and clear, echoing throughout the house. "We need a decision. Who's contacting the city councilmen? The protest is today. Then, we're moving on to arrange the focus groups and community surveys."

"I'll contact the councilmen," Kate shouts.

I snort. She would. Another hour passes, and I need more tea.

I peek out of my room and tiptoe down the hallway. No one will notice.

A distinguished looking older Black man stops me. "Wait a minute. Excuse me, your name is Ana, correct?"

"Um…yes," I reply. Feeling caught.

The group's staring at me, like I'm a test subject.

"We are planning to conduct focus groups on qualified immunity for police officers. We need laypeople's opinions. What are your thoughts?"

"Umm…" I freeze. Qualified immunity.

His facial expression is serious.

I fiddle with my hands. Crap. I should know the answer. "It's definitely an important issue."

Everyone's staring. Kate's eyes widen. She's concerned.

"Well…police immunity is," I'm not educated enough to have an opinion on this. Better try something. "Well, I don't think bad cops should be able to easily find new jobs. My stepdad has friends who are cops. They say sometimes bad apples can switch departments. It's a problem."

The group nods. Kate's eyes soften.

"I better hurry before my next call starts." I gesture to my teacup and walk to the kitchen. I'll do research later. We're supposed to protest tonight. I should know what we're fighting for.

º-º-º-º-º

Andrea wants me to amend a few appointments in the calendar. She's logging off early today, and the changes need to be made before the weekend.

It's hard to find the ones that need adjusting. Today's schedule. I click through and adjust the appointments. I fix one of Christian's meetings.

Holding my breath, I can't help it. I stalk the rest of his week.

He's slammed. Back to back meetings all next week. Does he have time for friends?

I find the card he gave me and touch the satin surface. I hesitate to add his number on my contact list. But choose to add it. He gave it to me. But that was before I kissed him…How would he react if I texted him? It won't happen.

Finishing up the last calendar adjustments, I sign off, agitated and moody. It's a good thing since we're headed to a protest. I'll need to yell, march and dodge the police.

I've tried to ignore the news coverage from Minneapolis. A little voice tells me this is a bad idea. Remember what happened last time you were in downtown. My hands tremble as I clean up the desk. My attacker's hands clenching my waist. The smell of him. Gross.

Kate knocks on her door. "You done with work?"

"Yep," I say, standing up.

"You ready to go? Ethan's going to drop us off in the international district," Kate says, as she walks into her bathroom.

I cringe. Ethan. I rejected him in January. He asked me out on a date. I never told her. He's handsome. But there's no spark. And his breath smelled funny.

Kate walks back out. Her look's expectant.

"Yeah, um…I'm ready. Do you need me to carry anything?"

"The posters in the living room."

I walk to get the posters. Heavier than they looked. We head together to the elevator. I wobble, trying not to drop any of the homemade signs.

"So, tell me about your work assignment. Sorry I didn't ask earlier," Kate says, as we start descending to the 1st floor.

"Um…it was okay. A good career opportunity. I got a bonus for helping last minute," I say, casting my gaze downward. A white lie. Not mentioning the kiss.

The elevator door opens.

"A bonus during a pandemic! Girl way to get it."

I nod. My stomach knots as I follow her to the entrance of the building. Wait. The money had nothing to do with the kiss. Or did it.

"Ethan's out front."

His silver SUV waits for us. Is that her dad's vehicle? Yep.

Kate jumps in the passenger seat.

I go to the back seat, trying to stay invisible. Wait. I'm missing something. My mask.

"Kate, do you have an extra face mask?"

She shakes her head.

"I have one," Ethan says, smiling. He pulls a disposable mask out of his glove department and reaches to the back seat to hand it to me.

"Thanks," I whisper.

"Anytime, Ana," he says, as he starts to drive. He puts on some fast music. Techno. No European pop. It's unclear. "So, why are you guys headed to a protest? Tired of quarantine?"

"No Ethan," Kate chides. "Police brutality is a health crisis. Until there's justice, we can't have peace," Kate says, increasing the volume of the speakers. This SUV has some bass. We don't talk the rest of the short ride.

Ethan pulls up next to a small greenspace. A crowd forms near blocked off playground equipment. It's the largest group of people I've seen in months. All types of people hold signs in the air. And fists. This might be a bad idea.

"I'll call you if we need a ride home," Kate shouts over the blaring music.

Ethan puts his hazard lights on and parks. People rush into the streets, heading towards the crowd. "You're okay with this Ana? I can take you back."

"Thanks for the ride," I say, opening my door.

"Wait, Ana." He jumps out of the SUV, stopping me in my tracks. He pulls me in an unexpected hug and pecks my cheek. "Be safe out there."

"See you later Ethan," I say, gently pushing him away. No sparks there. It's nothing like Christian.

º-º-º-º-º

Kate strides to the center of the crowd.

I run to keep up, almost dropping one of the posters. Reading it, I get a little shaky – I can't breathe. This is why we're here.

Kate takes the posters from me and starts handing them out. I follow her, trying not to get too close to anyone. We're wearing face masks but still…I don't want the virus.

"BLACK LIVES MATTER!" A woman screams.

A wall of police officers moves closer. They wear riot gear. Shields and helmets. Like they're facing a real threat. But this group isn't threatening. Most people here seem normal. They're trying to get justice for George. And the others.

Kate starts talking to Marie, who carries a megaphone.

"Hey Ana," Marie says.

"Oh, you done did it now," a masculine voice screeches in the background. A few people cheer. I turn to face them.

"You mother fuckers. Fucking scum." A white guy taunts, getting in the face of two young cops. He's wearing a large backpack and baggy cargo pants. He spits on one cop's shoes. Two guys cheer while others shake their heads.

I hold my breath. Should I say anything? No. Leave them alone. I back up a few steps.

A few seconds later, I hear a gunshot. Grabbing my knees and bending down, I take cover. No one else around me does. Must be okay. I stand back up, searching for Kate. I've lost her.

My ears buzz a little, light fills up the sky. More popping sounds. Recognition hits me–it's fireworks!

I quicken my pace, following the marching crowd. I'll find Kate soon.

An older Asian man holds up a fire extinguisher. He's alone, in front of a small restaurant. A noodle shop. He shouldn't be here. Not with this crowd. What about Covid? He's at risk. I should mind my own business. But what if he was my stepdad…I touch my face mask.

The crowd gets bigger around me. People run past the older man. Stay away from him.

A young man with spiked purple hair throws a brick into a shop's window. A small grocery. He runs away, screaming, "No justice no peace."

"You fucker, don't do that," another man screams, chasing the purple haired man.

"Aaauuugggghhh," a woman screams.

The police catch up with the crowd. They shake their oversized shields. One officer has a megaphone. An announcement blares: "Disperse. This is the final warning. Disperse."

My heart races. I gasp, crouching down. I didn't hear any warnings earlier. What do they mean final warning? I freeze in place, while people around me run. I need to find Kate.

"Close your eyes!" Someone shouts, touching my back. "TEAR GASSSSSS."

It's too late. The gas gets into my eyes.

"Ahhhh," I whimper. Damn it. I can barely see. I try to wipe my eyes with my arms.

"Here," an older woman says, coming up to me. She pours some water in my eyes. "That should help. Those fuckers shouldn't have deployed it. Trigger happy."

"Thanks for helping," I say, still trying to wipe my eyes. I stumble to the other side of the road.

My mouth burns–the glue-like substance lines my shirt. Everything tastes spicy and foul. A direct hit. I'm crying.

º-º-º-º-º

I find a small alleyway and separate myself from the marching crowd. They aren't stopping. Where's Kate? Checking my backpack, I find my phone. I need to leave. This is too much…I've got to get tear gas stuff out of my eyes.

I dial Kate's number, and the call goes straight to voicemail. I click on Ethan's contact information, hesitating. No. Not now.

I scroll to Christian's number, his calendar said he's in Seattle. It's presumptuous to call him. He probably won't answer. But…I'm out of energy and I need some closure. And I'm new to town. Fuck it. I click his number.

Christian answers, on the first ring.

"Anastasia, why are you–" He starts asking, then pauses. Sirens and screams fill the background of the call. "Where are you?"

I look toward a nearby street sign. I start responding, but it hurts to talk. I manage to whisper. "The Dim Sung place on South Jack...Jackson street." I need some water. I rub my throat with my hands.

"Stay there." Christian orders and then hangs up.

I wait a few minutes, watching the situation intensify. More crashes, I see a car burning. I'm trying to hide myself from the crowd. I don't want any trouble.

When I finally see Kate again, she's marching. Squinting, my eyes still burn, there's a guy with her, one I haven't seen before. She's holding his hand.

I decide to try to catch up to her, when a shiny motorcycle, distinctive in its model and make, stops in front of my feet. My heart beats uncontrollably. Christian.

Christian takes his helmet off. His gray eyes with their signature intensity, narrow on me, stop me from talking.

Should I warn Kate? I hesitate.

"Get on!" He says, pressing a helmet into my hands.

I hop on the motorcycle, strapping on my helmet. I've rode one before with my stepdad. I know what to do. I'm holding him tightly, my hands wrapped around his chest.

As he takes off, headed towards a backroad, he stiffens some like my hands are uncomfortable.

I loosen my grip some, moving it a little lower. The ride is short, a few minutes.

He pulls into a hidden gate, entering in a passcode that opens up a garage full of luxury vehicles. He must live here.

I rub my eyes. Still burning.

"You got tear gassed?" He asks.

"Yeah," I say. "A lot of people did."

"Don't touch your face." He grabs my hand as we head to the elevator. The electricity's still there. The feeling that I want to kiss him again.

We reach the top on the building. We walk past several doors, until he stops at one, dropping my hand as he pulls out his key. "You'll need to flush out your eyes. You can stay here tonight."

"Thanks," I say, my voice cracking.

"It's fine Anastasia," Christian says blankly, guiding me to a bedroom, with his hand on the small of my back. He's hurrying me. Not letting me admire his place.

"The protests…" My throat hurts too much to ask. But what is his position?

Christian cocks an eyebrow at me. The steely glare. He's not exactly likeable. "You can stay here." He opens the door of the guest bedroom.

I nod. It's just one night. I better get this stuff out of my eyes.

º-º-º-º-º

There are enough shower heads to feel like it's a pressure wash, at least eight of them. They spray water from each direction. I try the rainfall and jet settings. My eyes still burn, so I flush them continuously, trying to get all the tear gas particles out of them.

I towel off and find a change of clothes lying on the luxurious bed. Why does he have women's clothing? I shrug and change into the borrowed dress. My feet are bare. I'm not ready to put on my dirty sneakers.

My hair is still tangled. I try to undo the knot with my fingers as I walk out of the luxurious guest bedroom. His home seems similar to his office. Modern, fancy, sparse. He must have the same interior designer.

A breeze chills my arms. The balcony door has been left open. Maybe Christian's outside, surveying downtown now. I step towards the sliding doors. He's standing next to several exotic looking plants, one with a bright orange bloom. His hands rest on the balcony railing. Sirens are still going off, but he doesn't seem fazed.

I tiptoe towards him, crossing my arms to stay warm. I admire the view, my eyes drawn again to the Space Needle. Wouldn't it be cool if we could visit it together? Wishful thinking.

"Sleep Anastasia," he says, not turning to face me, he must have heard my footsteps. His voice sounds exhausted.

"Why…why weren't you at the protest?" I ask. Stepping up close to him. My face feels naked without a face mask.

"Because I use other methods to persuade," Christian answers.

"Lobbyists, donations, money," I say, guessing. "But that's for GEH. What about for bigger issues?"

His eyes narrow on me. GEH is everything. But earlier. At his office. He seemed sad…like there was something personal to the unrest.

"Do you think the same things will keep happening?"

"You've had enough for tonight," Christian says. "Get some sleep."

"Okay, good night," I say. "Thanks for hosting me. Sorry it was unplanned…I mean sorry to impose."

"Good night Ana, it's fine." He turns to face the skyline again.

I quietly step back inside. I should text Kate and tell her I'm safe. Well, safe enough.

º-º-º-º-º

The enormous bed captures my body, providing perfect support. My mind runs in every direction, thinking about Kate, the protest, the motorcycle ride, the way Christian stiffened as I held on to his chest. The way he thanked me for helping him. But never mentioned the kiss.

I'll be out of here tomorrow. This…this is really it for us. And that's a good thing. He's not exactly pleasant. He's just hot. And there's something about him that makes me want to take risks.

Taking a deep breath, I start fantasizing.

Hmmm…his guest room's shower. It's big enough for two people.

I set the scene in my mind. Our clothes our off. He presses the jet mode setting, the shower heads hit us with sharp bursts of water from every direction. Keeping this in mind, blood rushing to my clit, I use a circular motion to get what I want, never applying too much direct pressure. I imagine him maneuvering my body as I build up to tension. He'd ensure the water pulsed in just the right direction. I'm almost there. I take the visual further. His hands which just held mine, what if they massaged my breasts. There it is. I hit ecstasy.

My body relaxes. All the tension from the night disappears, as well as the troubled thoughts. I close my eyes, thinking of Christian.

º-º-º-º-º

Christian

Christian's got six hours of sleep like night, enough to function but not enough to understand the new stipulations Ros has been explaining. Sometimes his second in command's presentation style grates on his nerves. She needs to get to the fucking point.

He can't concentrate on this extended analysis of shipping container depreciation. His mind is preoccupied. Flickering his eyes towards the guest bedroom, he hopes Ana stays asleep. He doesn't want his VP to see her in his house.

"You're not focused," Ros says, snipping at him. His occasional inattentiveness towards her has always been a sore spot. She looks as groggy as he feels. Her hair frizzy, she touches her temple, her patience waning–unusual, since she's normally a morning person.

"Just one more thing," Christian says, pointing to her tablet, "How should we handle Tyler Wiley? If you haven't seen the memo, Legal cleared termination, but the team's not sure it's worth criminally prosecuting him. If he's willing to confess to being coerced by Russell Lincoln, they recommend pursuing a settlement."

Ros's scrolling through the legal memo, looking at the technical jargon. "Where's the recommendation? I'm not seeing it."

Christian hears Ana's footsteps. He catches his breath, stiffening in place. Shit, she'll be seen.

She walks in the living room wearing a dress he bought for a future submissive. It fits her perfectly. Her backpack hangs off her shoulder. Her hair looks a little wild like she's been to the beach or been recently fucked. Still gorgeous.

"Good morning," Ana says to both of them, placing her hair behind her ears.

Ros cracks a smile once she sees her.

Ana walks timidly towards Christian. Her head tilts. She hasn't figure out the connection.

This will take some explaining. Now Ros knows why he was hurrying along their scheduled meeting.

"It's great to see you, Miss Steele," Ros says. He watches Ana's cheeks darken. Ros's quick wit proving to be a problem here. She's only met Ana once, yet just as he feared once was enough. "Niall told me you did good work sorting out the files."

"Um, yeah. He's kind to say that. It's good to see you again," Ana says, smiling awkwardly.

Christian sighs, the girl doesn't even know Ros's name. Christian should have warned her. But he couldn't face her. In that dress. In that room.

"Of course, Miss Steele, I'm Ros by the way, I serve as the Vice-President of GEH."

Ana's feet turn slightly in the direction of the spare bedroom–she obviously wants to disappear.

Ros chuckles.

"Miss Steele was stuck downtown last night due to the protests. It was an emergency situation. The roads we blocked," Christian says, standing up. They should be wearing face masks. He's losing control. Again.

Ros's eyebrows rise, the mischievous smile still pasted on her face.

"Gentlemanly of you," Ros says, standing to face him. "I need to head out anyways and check on Gwen, she's also been awfully tired lately. Let's stop working Saturdays."

Christian gawks at Ros as she leaves. He wants the perfect come-back. But doesn't have one. He isn't Ana's direct superior. Not anymore. She's back to being Andrea' employees. Christian takes a breath. It could be worse.

º-º-º-º-º

Ana gives him a brief smile. She lightly touches his shoulder, then pulls back once she sees his facial expression. Her smile turning into a frown as he eyes narrow onto his tight lips.

"It won't happen again," Ana says, curtly. "Thanks again for letting me stay." Her hand grasps the door's handle.

"Wait," Christian blurts out. Moments later, he's next to her, grabbing her unzipped backpack, her dirty clothing falling out of it onto the floor.

Ana's eyeing him, her body language stiffening, like she's expecting a reprimand.

He runs his hands through his hair, looking into her eyes, feeling naked from her gaze. "Have you been sailing before?"

"Sailing?"

Christian clears his throat again, like something's caught in it, breaking eye contact. "I was planning to take the yacht out today. If you don't have plans, you could come." Meeting her eyes again, this time more prepared to face them, he hedges his last statement, adding, "Your new to Seattle after all. You'd probably like to see the water."

Ana takes a few seconds to respond.

Christian's heart beats faster as he waits.

She bends to pick up the fallen clothes.

His chest tightens. This is a bad idea. Willpower is limited. She's still an employee.

"I would like that," Ana says, taking the backpack back from his hand, placing the clothes back in, zipping it up slowly.

Christian holds his breath. The things he'd like to see her unzip. Taking her to the marina is a bad idea, yet he thinks to himself, action will bring him more information. It will clear his head, get her out of his system–he'll see her faults.

Placing the backpack down, Ana touches his fingertips gently, bringing his attention to her face.

Christian knows he's a goner. No more self-restraint–he brings his lips hungrily to hers.

Ana's hands trail up his back, she closes in the space, waking up his whole body.

It's exactly the response he wanted. The one he craved. So different than previous submissives, this reaction, the way she kisses him with conviction, like she doesn't want it to stop. Untrained, yet authentic.

Adding more force, she keeps up, mirroring his actions, as he pushes her up against the door leading her to groan. Breaking contact for a second, his eyes on her swollen lips. There's no doubt about it, he's the one she wants. Why?