DISCLAIMER: FSOG BELONGS TO E. L. James.

CPOV

"I can't believe I was almost fired," Ana says as she scoots across the backseat to make room for me. She opts to sit by the window, so I sit in the middle. I reach over her shoulder and pull the seatbelt across her torso to beside her hip where the buckle is. I would rather have her on my lap on our way home but safety first.

"But you didn't," I mollify, pressing my lips to the side of her head. I pull back after a few seconds and fasten myself up. Taylor starts up the SUV, and I tell him to go to Ms. Steele's place. He pulls from the curb after checking for oncoming traffic. Sawyer rides in the passenger seat. I'm mildly surprised that Ana hasn't questioned his presence.

"Yeah, it's amazing how the threat of a lawsuit changed Jack's and Elizabeth's minds. They practically kissed your ass when we left," she grumbles, looking out the window. That was part of it, I'm sure, but mostly it was after I said I was Christian Grey. I wouldn't be surprised if those two conniving assholes began treating Ana like royalty. They know I could buy SIP and fire their asses, which I am.

My hand rests on Ana's thigh. I would hold her hand, but she has both tucked under her thighs. Her shoulders are hunched in, too. What a day she must be having. I repress a grimace, not looking forward to bringing up what was sent to me and what was discovered shortly after.

I squeeze her thigh to get her attention, but I only get a slight movement from her shoulders in return. "How about we skip the movie?" I suggest. "We can go somewhere to eat, or my housekeeper can cook us something really quick and delicious." Though I aim to make myself sound gentle and reassuring, my voice does not cooperate. I come out sounding gruff and unlike myself.

Ana pulls her gaze from building watching to glance at me for a second. Her lips purse and she shakes her head. Her attention returns to the blur of cars, people, and buildings outside the window. "Can you drop me off at my apartment? I just want to make myself something quick to eat and go to bed," she says delicately, leaning her head against my shoulder, probably to soften the rejection.

I still feel it, though, in my stomach. Sort of like an empty feeling. I keep quiet, mulling the situation over in my head to see what I missed. I thought she was happy to see me at her work, but maybe that was fleeting. Does she suspect that I know what I know? Holy fuck, during the call I mentioned photos of her, and she fainted seconds after. Does she remember? I've been so concerned with her well-being, I've not noticed her body language. She has not made direct eye contact with me since I arrived, just looked down at her feet or over my shoulder. I run my free hand over my hair, feeling how chaotic it must look. Crap, is she distancing herself from me?

Deciding to bite the bullet while I have her trapped in moving a vehicle, I ask, "Ana, what do you remember before you fainted?"

We pass quickly through the shadow of a building, and I get a glimpse of Ana's face: her nose is scrunched, eyes narrowed, and mouth twisted in thought. "Um, we were talking on the phone, but I remember the room was spinning and I had a hard time breathing." She takes a deep breath as if reliving the memory.

"That's it?"

"Oh, and I spoke with Cason before you called. That's when I began feeling dizzy." I growl, and she moves from my shoulder to look at me confused. "Did you just growl at me?"

I meet Taylor's eyes through the rearview mirror. He shakes his head slightly, and I take a deep breath. "Sorry, sunshine," I say and give her a twisted smile. "I just do not like that man."

Not smiling back, she leans her head against the car door instead of me. "The feeling is mutual."

Like I fucking care. I frown. "What's wrong, sunshine?" I call her sunshine, but I should be calling her rain cloud. I now see the unshed tears in her eyes. She looks like she could start bawling at any moment though is trying her best to hide it.

"I'm not feeling myself today," she whispers, finally meeting my eyes. I am not prepared for the conflict and pain in her normally happy eyes. Her bottom lip begins to tremble as I continue to stare at her.

If only we weren't in a moving vehicle. I would pull her into my lap, wrap my arms around her, and coax her to let loose those tears. I settle for tugging one of her hands from beneath her legs and kiss her fingertips. "Tell me what happened, sunshine," I implore her between kisses. "Tell me so I can make it better."

She bites her bottom lip and glances at our CPOs in the front. I see her struggle to push down her emotions by blinking away the tears and taking a few deep breaths. Ana looks to the front again and blurts out, "So, explain to me why Cute Starbucks Guy is sitting up front with Taylor."

Confused, I question, "Who?"

A throat clears noisily from the front. "Ah, she means me, sir," Sawyer clarifies, shifting his shoulders in discomfort, I assume.

Cute? "You mean Sawyer?" What does she mean by cute?

"Only if he is the same man I've been seeing at Starbucks this past week, yes. I'm curious as to why he's calling you sir." Her shoulders straighten a bit, and her chin rises. She narrows her eyes at me.

I sigh. "I was worried for your safety. Remember that."

"Christian," Ana says in warning.

I run my hand through my hair again. "After you told me your ex was harassing you, I assigned Sawyer as your CPO to ensure you were never harmed."

"So, he's been following me around for a week?"

"Yes," I agree. I'm not lying either. He has been following her, just two weeks longer than she thinks.

"What does he do all day while I'm at work?"

"He is on standby should you need him."

"Oh my god, that must have been so boring. Sorry, I'm not an exciting person, Mr. Sawyer."

Sawyer twists back to look at her with kindness. "It's what I'm paid to do. And just Sawyer is fine, Ms. Steele." He turns back with a smile that stiffens as he sees my narrowed eyes.

Ana smiles, and it's breathtaking to see. "You get paid to sit, drink Starbucks, and do nothing? Wow, I chose the wrong profession."

I chuckle, pleased my happy Ana is returning, though I suspect she only is to avert the conversation from her inner turmoil. "I pay him to keep you safe, sunshine, not do nothing."

"Pumpkin, I'm just going to and from work." Her eyes widen. "Now I know why Sawyer looked familiar. He was there for our date last week, wasn't he? How did I not remember him?" She sounds like she's speaking to herself more so than me.

Taylor speaks up, cutting off the conversation. "We're at Ms. Steele's, Mr. Grey."

I look to my right, and sure enough, her apartment building is just passing by. Taylor finds a spot to park at the curb in front. After the SUV is turned off, I unbuckle first Ana, then myself. She kisses my cheek and mouths, "Thanks." As she gathers her purse, she asks, "Do you want to come? I'm thinking of making some soup."

I smile and scoot out the door Sawyer holds open. "I would like that, yes." I reach back for Ana's hand and help her out, too. Her bag clutched tightly to her side, she peers up at her building. She taps a foot and winces. She isn't wearing her usual heels, I notice. Strapped to her feet are brown boring flats.

"Mr. Grey," Taylor calls to me. I force my gaze from Ana to Taylor still sitting behind the wheel. "I have an update." Raising one eyebrow, I nod my head to Ana. Taylor moves his head once to the side.

"Sunshine," I say, "go on up without me. I'll join you momentarily."

She meets my eyes, curious. "Oh, that's fine. Be however long you want. I need to tidy up before you go up there anyway."

I lean down and kiss her. "Sawyer will go up with you."

"No, no, no! That's okay. I'll be safe up there." She presses her lips together and looks up at me through her lashes. Damn, this woman knows how to do the puppy dog eyes.

I want to mention Westbrook going into her apartment last week but a telling look from Sawyer holds my tongue. His eyes flick from me to Taylor, silently asking to stay. Deciding to trust my security, I tell Ana to text me when she's secured. I also remind her to lock her door. She nearly runs inside to the elevators after confirming she will.

After seeing the numbers climb up to her floor, I settle back inside the SUV. Sawyer jumps into shotgun while Taylor twists his torso around.

"Ryan and Reynolds arrived to pick up Ms. Steele's car from SIP parking two minutes ago, Mr. Grey. Reynolds reported to me Westbrook's vehicle was parked in front of the building."

Hate and anger strike me so suddenly I remain quiet. My hands become fists in my lap, and I close my eyes. My pulse is humming beneath my skin.

Taylor continues at my lack of response. "Ryan was able to gain entry inside SIP and found Westbrook asking the receptionist for Ms. Steele, stating it was an emergency. When informed she left in your care, he left after leaving a note on her windshield. The note says he will be skipping the outing to her father's burial tomorrow to look for the missing items and asks she stay behind to help him. I ordered Reynolds to follow him in the SUV and report back his whereabouts and activities. Ryan is on his way here with Ms. Steele's vehicle."

I open my eyes. Darn, I forgot about tomorrow. So much shit has happened it left my thoughts completely. After taking a deep breath, I say, "Did the note specify what he meant by missing items?"

"No, sir."

"Where is he headed to now?"

"Reynolds believes they are in route to his apartment, sir."

"How did he look?"

"The men described him as shaken and jumpy. He kept looking over his shoulders when returning to his vehicle."

Interesting. He must sense the storm coming after him. "Keep a man on him until I say otherwise. Inform me of everything he does and everywhere he goes. If he comes too close to Ms. Steele, the men are to divert him someplace else and give Sawyer a head's up. I don't care how they do it, but make sure he doesn't come close to Ana. Sawyer, in this case, alert me immediately and take Ana to Escala or to me. Explain to her that there is a threat and no more than that."

"Yes, Mr. Grey." Sawyer and Taylor say in unison.

"I plan to stay the night. Go home, rest. We will be fine by ourselves." I open the door and begin getting out.

"Sir, is that wise?" Taylor questions, alarmed. "Westbrook might make an appearance."

"Reynolds is on him. He will report to you, and you will report to me. End of discussion. Have a good evening, gentlemen. I will see you tomorrow morning for the drive to Montesano at nine. Bring me a change of clothes."

Knowing they disapprove of my orders, I suppress a smirk as they both say, "Mr. Grey," stiffly.

They stay as I enter the building. In the elevator, after I press for Ana's floor, I look out and see them scowling at me. The elevator doors close, and that is the last I see of them. I wouldn't be surprised if they stay until Reynolds confirms Westbrook's position.

Now, to think about how I will approach Ana. I am unwilling to spring what I know to her. I don't want to spook her. But fuck! How can I come about this? Should I rip off the band-aid? Tell her off the bat what my security team and I discovered today? I rest against the wall and cross my hands in front of me. I eye the fake camera installed in the corner. Should we even discuss this today? We will visit her father's tomorrow. I don't want this to hang over our heads.

I recall Taylor's words from earlier, that Ana may respond better if she had someone that understood exactly what she went through. I know what he meant, but can I share my story with Ana when I've not put much thought into it myself? Am I ready to disclose something only very few people knew? Do I even want to tell her? If I were given another choice if Ana hadn't been abused, would I still be considering telling her? If informing her that my past is similar to hers, will that help her except that what she and Westbrook did was wrong?

I don't have to ponder this long. If it will help her to exile that monster from her life, I will tell her everything. This isn't about me; this is about saving her.

I want her to know that I care despite the horrors she unknowingly went through. She needs to know I'll be here with her, fighting for her. If she decides to file charges, she needs to know I'll hold her hand throughout the entire process. My dad can represent her or direct her to someone better who can. My family doesn't know her, but I know they'll open their arms to her for me. Ana is the sweetest person I've ever met, and they will all adore her as much as I do. I can help her find another apartment, or she can move in with me until she finds her feet. I'll buy her another better car—one that won't break down on her or require monthly repairs. I'll buy SIP, so she'll always have a secure job.

Fucking hell, how can I care so much for a woman I've known for five damn minutes? How the hell did I last thirty years without her? My grandfather always told me when I found my lucky someone, all else would lose meaning as she became the center of my universe. She would be all I could see in a room filled with hundreds. All my thoughts will be of her. I will want to save her if she needs saving.

Since I met Ana, I can't recall a day where I've not thought of her. She's opened me up and has me doing things I would have never done. I want to save her. Is this what my grandfather meant? Do I love Ana?

The elevator jerks to a stop, and the doors open with a creak. I step off quickly and hurriedly walk to Ana's door, trying to leave my thoughts in that prehistoric thing that's supposed to be an elevator. My heart thumping fast and my knees like jelly, I knock three times. Through the door, I hear a vacuum, so I knock twice harder. It shuts off moments later, and I call out, "Ana, it's me."

"Coming!"

As I wait, I stare hard at the large thirteen on her door. Is thirteen a lucky or an unlucky number? My hands in my pants pocket, I resist the urge to run them through my hair for the hundredth time today. Why the hell did my mind suddenly decide to catch up with my feelings, today of all days? I was fine living in ignorance for at least another month. Do Ana's feelings parallel mine? How do I know that I invade her mind as she does mine?

The lock turns, and I plaster on a charming smile in an effort to conceal my abrupt insecurity. What if Ana only sees us as a fun, not-long-term fling? Does this young naïve woman have the ability to break my heart? Thank goodness I left my tie at the office. It would be strangling me right about now.

A grunt sounds off from the other side of the door, halting my thoughts. I press my ear to the wood just as a big smack makes the door shake. I pull away and bang the door with my fist. "Ana!" Fuck it all, I shouldn't have sent our CPOs away. I should have known better. Stupid idiot!

"The door sticks sometimes!" Ana shouts. The doorknob jiggles, and she grunts with the effort from presumably trying to pull the door to open it. "Can you try pushing?"

Mystified, I do as she asks. First, I push with just my hands flat on the door. When that fails, I shove my shoulder against the door. That does it, and I land almost on my knees as I fall through. Ana yelps and jumps back before she can fall on her ass. I regain my balance, feeling my neck warm. So much for being charming. Ana smiles bashfully, pink coloring her cheeks.

"Sorry. I've been hounding the building manager to fix it," she explains, looking down at her feet. "Mind your step. The floor is wet in some places. I mopped up some stains before you came up."

I enter her apartment to the scent of Clorox and close the door behind me. "How long has it been jamming?" I lock the door with the deadbolt and chain. To prevent footprints on her wet floor, I step out of my shoes and leave them by the door. Mental note: have Elliot come and fix the door.

"Since I've lived here, but it doesn't happen often." She laughs. "Earlier this year, I got stuck outside and had to ask around the building for any strong men to help me. Ms. Preston from two floors up thought I was asking for a date and set me up on one with her son." Chuckling at the memory, she gestures me to sit on her couch.

"A date? How serious did it get? What is his name? What does this son look like?" I try not to sound jealous, but she still smiles knowingly.

Giggling, she sits sideways on my lap and wraps her arm around my neck. "Hmm, let me think. He was tall, dark, and handsome. He had these pretty brown eyes that I could just fall in, a perfect crooked smile that made me melt. Whenever he spoke to me, I had to change my panties after." She sighs wistfully. "He was the love of my life." Ana stares dramatically off into space with a hand to her heart.

I know she's only trying to get a rise out of me, but the green-eyed monster doesn't care. Not amused, I tug on her hair—hard enough to get her attention but not so hard to hurt her. She meets my eyes and laughs. "That isn't funny, Anastasia. Tell me his name."

"Does that make you jealous, Christian?" Ana kisses me, but I pull back. Not offended, she places small kisses all over my cheeks and nose. "Why does it make you jealous, pumpkin? I'm with you now," she coos with a hand flat against my chest.

Despite my effort to keep pouting, a smile escapes me. My hands tighten on her waist. "Exactly. You're mine. Banish all thoughts of other men. I'm better than all of them, so if you're going to swoon over anybody, it better be me."

I grab a fistful of her hair and force her lips to mine. Eager, she matches my fervor. I can't hold her ass given how she's sitting on my lap, but I can grab her somewhere else I love. I cup her breasts with both hands, and she moans into my mouth. Ana repositions herself until her knees on either side of me and rocks against my growing erection. Her skirt gathers around her hips, giving me a peek to her white panties. My hands switch from inside her blouse to outside and begin to unbutton it from the bottom.

At that moment, a loud growl from her stomach reminds me that my baby is starving. My erection deflates at record time. Everything can wait until I put something in her belly. Ana protests as I stand and put her on her feet. I frown as she sways on her feet. She needs to take better care of herself.

My hands on her upper arms keeping her steady, I reprimand her. "Why haven't you eaten anything? Your priority should have been fixing yourself something to eat, not cleaning your damn apartment!"

"Who are you to scold me?" Ana snaps, shrugging off my hands. I only let go when I'm sure she can stand without help.

I rub the back of my neck, exasperated. "I didn't mean it like that, Ana. I don't like you hungry. Don't forget you fainted earlier today. You didn't want to go to the emergency, and I agreed only because you gave your word you would eat something as soon as you got home."

I follow her into the kitchen that is just off from the living room. "You don't have to remind me, Christian. I was there. I got a little sidetracked. I'm fine. Look, I'll make something now." Ana opens the fridge and eyes up the food. Or lack of food. All that was in there was a near empty carton of milk, cheese, ham, and eggs. The argument forgotten, I snoop through one of her cupboards, finding it nearly empty except for half a loaf of bread, a few packages of chicken-flavored Ramen noodles, three small cans of tuna, English Breakfast tea, and a cereal box. Frowning, I browse the cupboards over her stove and find them empty.

"Where's all your food, Ana?" Just last weekend, all her cupboards and fridge were well-stocked.

Face flushing, Ana drops her head and closes the fridge. Not answering me, she asks, "How about that soup?" Not waiting for my response, she takes out two packages of Ramen noodles and sets them on the counter.

"Ana," I say sternly. She ignores me, pulling out a pot from under the counter. "Ana, what happened?" I dread her answer as I've got a feeling Westbrook has a part in this. If that man doesn't end up dead at the end of this, I'll be really surprised.

"I don't want to tell you," she tells me point-blank, not bothering to look me in the eye.

Surprised, I stare as she fills the pot with tap water and then places it on the stove. She sets the stove to medium. Next, she opens the packets, fishes in them, and retrieves flavor packets. All this she sets on the small slice of counter between the fridge and stove. She wraps her arms around herself and stares at the water she set to boil.

"Ana," I urge.

"It's not your headache, Christian."

I am conflicted. Ana has never outright said she wanted to keep something from me. If she were a submissive—or anyone else for that matter—I would have demanded an explanation. It was rare when I had to as everyone usually gives me whatever information I want. I always get what I want; I'm Christian Grey. Is it arrogant of me to expect everyone to bend over backward to please me? Probably. That is my reality, and I worked my ass off to make it so.

Ana is different, though. I can't expect to treat her the same way I do everybody else. She would not stand for that, and I wouldn't want her to. I love that she is the anomaly in my life. If I plan to keep her, I need to work on embracing a more open persona.

Through my internal musings, the water has begun boiling. Ana carefully adds the dried chunks of noodles into the pot. She tosses the wrappers away in the trashcan hidden under the sink.

"Why, Ana?" I ask as she stirs the food with a fork.

"Why what?" She adds the flavor packets, then continues stirring.

I lean against the counter, facing her. "Why don't you want to tell me where all your food went?"

She sighs and turns off the stove. As she retrieves two bowls from the drying rack by the sink, Ana admits, "Because it's embarrassing, Christian. You wouldn't understand. You're loaded."

I don't know what to say, so I stay quiet.

After transferring the food into the bowls, she sets them on the little yellow table. I notice she gave me the larger serving, bless her. She places the pot in the dishwasher, and I get two forks from a drawer. We sit on opposite sides not saying a word. I squint at the soup. I've never eaten Ramon noodles in my life. I twirl some on my fork and blow on it, seeing Ana doing the same. Carefully, I take a bite. Not a five-star meal, but I can't complain. It's food.

As I inhale everything in my bowl, I watch Ana. She keeps her eyes on her meal as she eats. Her shoulders are hunched again, and her cheeks and neck are a slight pink. The short time I've known her, I've not ever seen her be unsure of herself. All day, she's kept her head down, face hidden, and posture closed. I want her to snap out of it, but I understand that she's had a hard day, what with the fainting and almost being fired. She seems so fragile and ready to break at any moment. Observing her, I am now reluctant to mention that I know about her sexual abuse. I'm unwilling to cause her more pain today. We are visiting her father's grave tomorrow, for crying out loud. I know that must be hurting her on top of everything.

I'll tell her my history today, but I will not mention knowing hers. That conversation can wait. That decided, I return my attention to my meal and consider the current dilemma. Where the hell did her food go? She couldn't have eaten it all or thrown it out. She doesn't strike me as a wasteful person. If she donated it or had company, Sawyer would have reported it. What does she mean her lack of food is embarrassing? Is she having money problems? Does she think I'll look down on her for it? It hurts that she's got a low opinion of me. Have I ever given her reason to label me a snob? I like expensive things, sure, but I don't judge those who haven't had the same opportunities as me.

I've eaten my last noodle and briefly study the remaining water. Ana is drinking it straight from the bowl. With the echo of my mother scolding my siblings and me about manners, I follow Ana's lead. I lift the bowl to my lips and gulp down the warm liquid. It feels soothing, creating a warm spot in my stomach.

Ana reaches for my bowl, asking, "Finished?"

I hold tight and stand. "Let me. You cooked." I grab her empty bowl as well as mine and go to load them in the dishwasher. My back turned, I hear Ana's chair squeak.

"I'm going to change into something more comfortable. Be right back." I look over my shoulder to find her already gone.

Her dishwasher is somewhat full of dirty dishes and such. I find her dish detergent quickly under her sink. Her dishwasher is ancient compared to mine, but after some fiddling, it clicks, and the cycle starts.

Ana has not returned so I head to her bedroom. The door is open, and I take that to mean she doesn't mind my presence. Entering, I spot her sitting on her bed only wearing her underwear. A gray oversized knit sweater lays at the foot of the bed. She's bent over, examining the underside of her feet. I can see her forehead in the mirror reflection of her vanity. Gauze brown with what appears to be dried blood lays next to her. Concerned at the sight of blood, I step forward. At the sound of my entry, Ana sits and looks over her shoulder at me.

"Ana, what—" I cut off, seeing her reflection anew. She is no longer bent, and I see her front fully. On her left breast are obvious red marks, bruises almost. Ana instantly covers the hickeys with both hands when she follows my gaze. In three large strides, I stand in front of her. Her wrists are in my hands in a second, and I roughly yank them apart from her chest. The four hickeys contrast on her pale skin.

My throat is tight, and I feel like my chest is ripping in two. How can she do this to me? I'm frozen, unsure of what to do. Ana looks up at me in fear and eyes filling up with tears. What the fuck does she have to cry about? I'm the hurt one here. A tear slips down her cheek slowly. I follow it as it drips down her cheek. I decide to conceal my pain and unleash my anger at her. She wants a reason to cry? I'll give her one.

"What the fuck is this, Ana?" My grip on her tightens, and my knuckles turn white.

"Stop it, Christian," Ana pleads, trying to pull out of my grasp. "Calm down. Let me explain!"

I glare at her white face. "You cheated on me!" I drop her wrists as if she were venomous. After I discover I might love this stupid woman, I find out she's been fucking around behind my back. Does the universe enjoy toying with me? "I thought you were so fucking sweet and innocent! Well, fuck you!" I thought I could love you.

"No, Christian, no! It's not like that!" Ana jumps to stand on her bed and grabs fistfuls of my shirt. I rip her hands off me and turn around. The need to get out of here is strong. My heart is pounding so loud in my ears, and my eyes burn. How can she hurt me like this? A tear falls against my will, and I wipe it away with the back of my hand. Not eager to let her see, I walk out of her room and head straight to the door.

Ana follows me, yelling my name. I get my shoes and sit on her couch. What a fucking turn of events in a short amount of time. I wanted to save her but fuck her! She can deal with the asshole alone. I'm done with her.

"Christian, please. Don't go." Her bare toes inch into my view from tying the laces of one shoe. I untie the other, but before I get the shoe on, she yanks it from my hands. I look up, showing her my anger only. Tears are streaming down her cheeks. "I swear I didn't cheat on you. Please don't leave, Christian," she sobs.

"Your tit says different," I hiss, looking at the evidence, daring her to deny its existence. She is still only wearing her underwear. I reach for my shoe in her hands.

"No!" She flings my shoe to the kitchen and throws herself on me. Her lips touch mine, tasting of salt. I shove her from me, and she falls to her ass. "I wouldn't cheat, Christian, I swear!" She scrambles to her feet as I step around her.

"Fuck you."

Ana speedily moves in front of me and wraps her arms around my waist, burying her face in my chest. "Listen to me, Christian, please! I can explain," she cries, the sounds muffled. Her breath is hot against me.

"Fucking explain then!" I try to push her away, but she holds tight. Her tears are soaking my shirt.

"I promise I didn't do anything! I pushed him away when I noticed him. He didn't have my permission," Ana sniffles. "I was asleep."

"I'm sure you were," I snarl, grabbing her arms and pulling her off me. I'm free for a moment until she latches herself to me again like a leech.

"I'm telling the truth. I told you about my ex. He snuck in while I was sleeping and tried to have sex with me. I swear I didn't give him permission!"

I pause. Her ex? Westbrook. My anger vanishes as fast as it came. Fucking Westbrook tried to rape her again? Aghast, I ask for clarification, "He tried to force you?"

Ana nods, face still pressed to my chest. She sniffs loudly and whispers, "Yes."

"Are you serious?" I push on her shoulders gently, but she refuses to budge. "Let me see your face, baby," I say softly. She does so hesitantly. Her eyelashes are wet with tears, blue eyes bright red, and bottom lip trembling. It physically aches me to see her in this state, but I'm hit especially hard with guilt. I made her cry. Damn my temper! "Tell me everything."

She swallows thickly. "I was sleeping. I woke up because I felt something between my legs. He was, he was, um," Ana stutters, a fresh wave of tears falls from her eyes. I wait with dread. Hiccupping, she continues, "His face was between my legs. I didn't know he gave me hickeys until I saw them in the bathroom mirror."

"Everything else, baby. Tell me everything else. Did he, did he rape you?" I began leading her back into her bedroom by her hand. Her near nakedness is unsettling to me. If I get her covered, she might be more open to sharing every detail.

Trailing behind me, Ana answers, "No. I think he was just trying to get me to participate. I don't think he's capable of raping me."

I sit her on her bed and pick up the sweater. Ana lifts her arms and allows me to slip it on her. Her shoulders are left exposed, but she seems more at ease. The sleeves hang to her fingertips. "You don't think, Ana, but did you imagine he would go down on you when you were asleep? Don't defend a monster, Ana." I pull her hair out from under her sweater.

She pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around her legs. At her lack of response, I ask, "When did this happen, baby?" I sit down next to her. She tilts slightly and leans against my arm. I eye the bloody gauze still on her bed.

"This morning. It's why I was late for work. I hid in my bathroom until I was sure he was gone."

Just this fucking morning. "Did this have something to do with you fainting today, do you think? Emotional stress, maybe?" I'm fucking killing this man.

"I don't know."

My gaze falls on the gauze again. "Care to explain that?"

Ana looks behind her and sighs. Her head falls forward until her forehead is supported by her knees. "I threw my snow globe at him to keep him from getting close to me. When I ran to hide, I stepped on the glass shards. It took me thirty minutes taking them out with my tweezers."

"What?" I get off the bed and kneel before her. "Show me."

She drops her feet in my lap. I lift one foot and see small incisions littering the underside of her foot. The other looks the same. "Ana, it looks like you took a cheese grater to your foot. What the heck did you do?"

"Um, some of the shards were in deep, so I used a razor to dig them out. I got all of them," she says, matter-of-factly while I look at her as if she had two heads.

"Baby, that's not how you do it. You can get an infection! We are going to the emergency." I stand. "Where do you keep your slacks?"

Ana whines, "No! Christian, I am not going to the hospital for nothing. It's fine. I'm not even bleeding anymore."

"Yes, you are."

She crosses her arms. "No! I'm staying right here."

"Don't be a child, Ana. You need to get your feet checked by a professional." I put my hands on my hips and tower over her.

Not backing down, she says, "I'm not a child! I just don't see the point in wasting everybody's time for something unimportant."

I take a deep breath in and out. "Baby, you can get an infection."

"So, I'll clean the cuts again. I'll be fine, and if I do end up getting an infection, you can tell me you told me so." She starts to rise.

Panicked, I force her to stay seated by placing my hands on her shoulders. "Don't stand! You'll hurt yourself." Ana looks up at me exasperated. It is only then I realize she isn't crying anymore. My face softens, and she looks at me suspiciously. I kiss her forehead. "Okay. No hospital. But you need to promise you will not stand or try to walk for the rest of the night. Otherwise, I'm taking you kicking and screaming. Deal?"

"Deal." Ana smiles like she won the lottery.

I smile back. I kiss her forehead again. "Okay. Where do you keep your first aid kit?"

"Under the sink, in the bathroom." I go and get it, along with the alcohol and a wet washcloth to wipe away debris.

In no time, I've got her feet clean and bandaged.

"I never took you as having a foot fetish," she giggles when I kiss her toes.

I roll my eyes. "If I had a foot fetish, I think you'd know it by now. I just adore your little feet with your little toes." I rise from the bed and remove her feet from my lap. The kit, alcohol, and washcloth in hand, I leave her bedroom and leave them on her bathroom counter.

Back in her room, I walk to her dresser and open the top drawer. As I anticipated—her undergarments drawer. I take out a pair of gray wool socks and return to my place at the foot of the bed. Carefully, I put the socks on Ana's feet, being mindful of her band-aids. When that is done, I look at my watch. Just barely six.

"If you get my laptop from the living room, we can watch a movie on it," Ana suggests.

"That sounds perfect. Be right back."

Less than a minute later, Ana has chosen a superhero movie to watch. I watch the Marvel logo appear on the small screen. "Didn't peg you for an action movie lover," I say, setting her ancient laptop on top of a pillow.

"Not generally, but I enjoy Marvel and DC. My dad loved the first Iron Man movie. He died before he could get to see the sequel and Phase One of the MCU. He was so excited to see his comic book heroes on the screen."

Surprised, I look to where she's reclined against her pillows. She doesn't ever mention her father willingly. "Do you watch them for him or you?"

She lifts her shoulders and lets them fall. "Maybe a bit of both. I do love Thor and Captain America. They're fine."

On the screen, men are entering a frozen spaceship thing. "Which of them are we watching?"

A/N: Longest chapter yet. Woo-hoo! I admire the authors who can write chapters 4k plus words on average. It's amazing.

I know I said we get Christian's background this chapter, but the chapter was getting long and that part didn't fit right. I'm including that for next chapter. Promise:)

Like a broken record, thanks to all who fave'd, followed, reviewed. New thanks to those who tipped me on mistakes I made on past chapters. I try to catch them all, but they occasionally slip by. Feel free to comb this chapter and point me where to fix anything:) Constructive criticism never hurt anybody.