Regarding Chapter 10 and the late update:
Instead of responding to comments this time, I would just like to reassure you all of any confusion. There was a time jump that confused some because we went from Christian's POV back to Anas POV. Please remember, this story is slowly building. You will have answers to your questions. That to me, is what makes a story suspenseful and keeps me coming back for more.
While I appreciate all kind reviews and encouragement, responses will from here on out only be made to those of you who have signed into the website.
Remember the words we've all heard at least once in our lives. "If you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all."
Constructive Criticism is one thing. Straight up harassment is another.
Song:
Back To You by Selena Gomez
and
Iris Cover by Sleeping with Sirens
P.R.E.T.T.Y.B.I.G.L.I.E.S
Despite the way Leila had worked her magic in the gallery, she was as cold as usual throughout dinner.
Christian mainly ignores her attitude, only throwing in a roll of his eyes when it seems most appropriate.
By the time we're done with our meal, Leila is wine drunk and I am once again an anxious mess.
When we step outside, the Audi sits at the curb, waiting with Taylor standing beside it.
Christian opens the door and asks me to wait before getting in the car, explaining that he wanted to make sure drunk Leila was closest to the window that she may need sometime during our journey. Then, with practiced ease, he maneuvers Leila into the car and helps her slide across so she's resting against the window.
With an okay from Christian, I climb in and sink into the plush leather seat and idly watch as Christian speaks with Taylor—thankful for a moment of silence after Leila's swift words during dinner.
"I can't believe you didn't tell me about Grandma Lambert. She was my grandmother growing up, not yours."
"Yes, she was in your life. But she's my biological grandmother."
"Well, even so, she sure didn't want to lay claim to you after Frank died. Evidently you didn't mean much to her after all."
Her words, while cruel, held a grain of truth. Grandma Lambert had cut me out of her life. But that was just as much her fault as it was Carla's.
As Christian and Taylor both get into the car, I spare a glance at Christian, who looks irritated after tonights events.
Even I can admit that tonight has been more than hectic. Between Leila's surprising presence, Christian's change of heart, and José's betrayal I can't even think straight.
Christian pulls his Blackberry from his pocket and begins to go through emails as Taylor pulls away from the curb. With Leila drunkenly leaning against the window and Christian distracted, I allow myself a moment to examine him.
While looking at him head-on it appears his nose is perfectly straight, but as I examine his profile, I find that it curves up just slightly before the end. His full lips are curved slightly upward as he smirks at his phone, and his copper hair is laying across his forehead in an unruly mess of waves that make him look like he's just strolled off the runway. I find it inconceivable that this man was mine for a short time. Except for when he wasn't. He's not mine—he's far too perfect to he mine. That's why he's married to Leila.
Leila is perfect—long brunette hair that is neither too thick or too thin, and it falls down her back in a mass soft waves that reach her waist in just the right way. Her bourbon brown eyes look as of they're a muddy green in certain light, shining like jewels. She's tall, but not too tall compared to Christian. Slim, but not terribly rail thin. Her breasts are full and at least a full cup size above my own. Her skin is flawless, slightly freckled and evenly tanned, without so much as a burn.
Her nose is straight, with a slight pixie tip on the end. Her lips are a full pout and despite her almost permanent scowl, she has a great smile that leaves a dimple in her cheek. She's a man's wet dream and she's married to the hottest man in all of Seattle.
For the two of them, it was meant to be.
P.R.E.T.T.Y.B.I.G.L.I.E.S
A soft but grand orchestral piece fills the car with music as Taylor drives, heading for Seattle. It's a piece I know I've heard Christian himself play once long ago. As I lose myself in the music I feel Christian's hand slide along my thigh as he shifts to face me.
"I want to talk to you about something."
I nervously glance at Leila and see that she appears to be asleep with her head resting back against the seat.
"Leila can't hear you," Christian says as he reassuringly squeezes my thigh.
"How can you be so sure?"
"Leila," Christian calls. She doesn't respond. "Leila." He calls again, and still he receives no response. Christian leans across my lap and taps her thigh. Again, Leila gives no response, instead, her head falls to the side in what looks to be a most uncomfortable position.
"Happy now?" he asks. "Taylor himself is listening to his iPod. Forget they're both here. I do. Although sometimes with Leila it's next to impossible. Your sister is extremely annoying when she wants to be.
"Did you deliberately ask Taylor to do that?"
"Yes."
"Isn't that against protocol? It's dangerous for her to drive that way, isn't it?"
Christian sighs and with a roll of his eyes says, "You are too smart for your own good."
"I think that I just know you well."
He hums. "You may just be right about that, Little One."
"So, what is it that you want to talk about?"
"I have a question first," he says suddenly look quite determined.
"A question?"
"Yes. Think of it as a negotiation."
"Okay," I say warily. "My ears and mind are open."
"Do you want a regular relationship with me?"
"Well, yeah. I do. Or at least, I did."
"Meaning what exactly? Just boyfriend and girlfriend or casual dating? Do you not want to partake in our kinky fuckery at all?"
"Whoa! Slow your roll. First of all, I mean that while yes, I wanted a real relationship with you, you kind of fucked it all up last week."
"We will go back to that. I promise. But first, just indulge me. Without that happening, what did you mean by saying that you do want a relationship with me?"
"I mean, without your wife in the picture. Ideally, I want us to be an us. Now second, what are you out a bad romance novel or something? Do I not want to partake in our kinky fuckery at all?" I snort in amusement. "Christian, did you forget that I came onto you? I never would have done that if I wasn't okay with it on some level. Yes, there are parts that I don't understand, but the other parts . . ."
"So you do like it?"
"Yes! Of course, I do."
"Okay, " he sighs as if relieved. "That's what I thought. So what is it that you don't like?"
The fact that you're married? Not being able to see you when I want to? Not being able to touch you when I want to? The fact that you get off on my pain? The bite of that belt hanging on the wall of your playroom
"I guess it's the threat of cruel and unusual punishment."
"I don't want a guess, Anastasia. I want the truth. I want you to be honest with me."
"Well, the main thing I don't like is the snoring object on my other side, " I frown, pointing to Leila over my shoulder. "Other than that, it's the fact that you're hiding me. The scheduling, the secrecy, the rules. I want to be able to touch you when I want to touch you. I want other people to know that you're mine just as much as I am yours. Then there's the belt . . ."
"What does that mean? I thought we resolved our issue over the belt? We tested your limits that one time and we talked it out afterwards."
"That was on Spring Break, Christian. You still have all of those canes and whips and belts in your playroom, and they scare the shit out of me. The pain aspect of the lifestyle has never been something I was interested in. You accepted that I don't want to use the canes as a hard limit. What's so different about the whips or the belts?"
"I didn't realize how much the belting had affected you."
"We agreed then that we would talk it out when we went over the contract and you seemed to skim over it. Sometimes you just intimidate me so much that I can't think straight."
His eyes soften in the light and he takes my hand in his, squeezing it softly.
"Okay, so no canes, no harsh whips, and absolutely no belts."
"So we're redefining the hard limits now?"
"I suppose you could look at it that way. But really, I need to know how you feel about every aspect of our relationship. I need to know how you feel about revisiting our playroom again. And last, but certainly not least, I need to know what you do and don't like."
"I love our moments. I love talking to you and spending time with you. And frankly, I wouldn't even be entertaining you with this conversation if I didn't want to go back into our playroom. You're right. It's not yours, it's ours. I love that it's ours," I sigh, holding his hand tighter. "As for that last one, it's a little complicated. I don't understand the joy you feel when you're inflicting pain on me. I can't handle it emotionally or mentally. Add in the idea that you'll punish me when I cross some fanciful line."
"It is most certainly not fanciful. The rules are written down for your safety and my sanity. They are in fine print."
"I want a real relationship with you, Christian. I don't want us to follow a list of rules. I want us to just be."
"No rules at all?"
"No rules."
"Zero?"
"Nada."
His brow furrows as if he's deep in thought while he studies my face.
"You said nothing about spanking. You don't mind if I spank you?"
"It depends. What are you spanking me with?"
"This." He holds up his hand and for a moment he looks racked with nerves.
I squirm at the sight and a slow smile spreads across his lips.
"No, I happen to like that quite a lot—unless you're doing it to brutally punish me. Like after I rolled my eyes at you. I didn't like that. I didn't like that at all."
"Can you tell me when you have liked a spanking?"
"The night you used the silver balls."
I feel heat rush to my face as I recall the night we used them—it so happened to be the very night he had unknowingly wrapped his hand around my throat as pictures we're taken of us without our knowledge.
The first part I would willingly do again. The second? Well, I was just happy to know that Christian had not only bought the portraits but had received the negatives—and planned to have any evidence on José's laptop deleted.
He smirks deviously. "Yes, that was quite thrilling."
"More than thrilling," I mutter. "Mind-blowing seems adequate."
"Hmm, I suppose it does. So, in other words, you can deal with some pain."
I shrug offhandedly. "Yes, I suppose."
Where exactly is he going with this?
Deep down, I know that I enjoy pain on some thermonuclear level, that is after all why I'm sleeping with a married man. It's a decision I've made that is pure agony.
I watch as he strokes his chin, resting his elbow against the edge of the window.
"I want to start over." At my frown, he shakes his head, "Just hear me out. I want us to start over with just vanilla. Later on, when you trust me, and I can trust you to not only be honest but to communicate with me, we can experiment and test your limits."
I stare at him in a state of astonishment—he looks calm, cool, and collected, but I know him well enough to decipher that deep inside he's an anxious mess.
"I don't understand. You need to punish me, to—"
"I don't need any if it, Ana. Not like I need you."
His words ring true, and for the first time ever, we're having an earnest, open conversation about what we both truly want and need from one another.
For once, we're on the same page. He wants to experience what the light has to offer—but can I ask him to do this just for me? Can I, in good faith, let him give up a part of himself? Don't I like that dark, deprived part of his soul?
Then, it occurs to me, that he's still not given me an explanation for his actions.
"You say these things, but you still want me at your mercy. You want me to put my faith in you. What about you accusing me of the unthinkable in your office? Calling me a whore. Throwing a fucking check at me like I was there to serve you . . ."
"All I can do is apologize and ask that you give me time—time to explain my actions. I just need to figure out a few things first, and then we will have a talk about it. Now, you mentioned punishments. There will be no punishments. None."
"If you tell me why you brought her a limb tonight then I can accept that. But if there not punishments, then what about the rules?"
"All I will say is, 'Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.' A very apt quote from the writers of The Godfather II—Mario Puzo and Francis Ford Coppola. It's advice I hope that you also keep in mind over the next few weeks. As for rules, zero."
"Zero? But what about what you need?"
"Oh Anastasia, after nearly ten days in purgatory, I've come to learn that I need you far more than some contract filled with a list of rules and punishments. Every fiber of my being tells me to let you be, because a shell of a man like me does not deserve an angel such as you."
"I'm no angel, Christian," I whisper. "I've done horrible things."
"Ana, no," he shakes his head. "Any pain that has occurred is because of me. In the first set of portraits that the photographer took, I can see what it is he sees in you. You look tranquil and alluring. Not that you're not alluring now, of course. It's just that, when you sit before me, I can see your anguish. Knowing that I'm the cause of that, it's agonizing."
"I've caused my own pain, Christian. Your words that day, they hurt. But what more could I expect after sleeping with a man who's married to my sister? I made the conscious decision to pursue you."
"Don't you understand it would have happened either way?" he murmurs "I had been entertaining the idea of pursuing you for weeks before that night. I am the one who walked into Clayton's and bought zip ties and rope, knowing that you had no idea what they signified.
"I'm a selfish man, Anastasia. I've wanted you long before the moment you fell into my arms at the family barbecue."
"I did that on purpose," I admit shamefully.
"You did?"
"Yes. I freely admit that. I've wanted you since long before that day too. Even before you took Leila on as your Submissive."
"That's not possible, Little One."
"It is though," I insist. "I saw you that day—"
"I watched you before I ever met Leila," he murmurs. "It few years prior, you must have been fifteen at the time. I had just recently started contracting Submissives on my own and Esclava had just had its grand opening. I was dropping off some paperwork and you were sitting there getting your nails done, all alone."
"Y—Y—You saw me that day?" I stutter in disbelief.
"You saw me?" he breathes. "Ana, you were a young teenager—"
"I was forced to be there with Leila. She was in Elena's office, which means Leila was already subbing."
"That's very possible. But I didn't meet her until the second time I saw you at Esclava. Even then, I knew you were too young, too innocent."
"I wanted you," I breathe. "When I saw you, I remember thinking that you were the most attractive man I had ever seen. No one had caught my eye, not like you. Then Elena stepped out of her office with Leila. I may have seen you first, but she saw you second."
"That doesn't matter. I saw you first. I've gotten to see just how lovely you are. Your morals, your compassion for others. The strength you have to keep on pushing through no matter how anyone treats you. You have wit beyond measure all the while having a disarming innocence about you. I could go on and on about you, Ana—the list is endless. And the mere thought of some other bastard having you, it cuts me to the quick like a knife right in the depths of my starless soul."
Holy shit. Was that what I think it was? Because if that wasn't a declaration of love, I don't know what is.
"I have no morals or compassion. Least of all strength. If I was any of those things you've said, I wouldn't be in the position I am now. But you, Christian Grey, you are far from a starless soul. Perhaps a little dim at times when you're down, but you are a truly good soul. You're far beyond generous, compassionate, and your honesty knows no bounds. And until last Monday, I don't believe you had ever lied to me. Not like I lied to you, anyway."
Looking completely baffled he tilts his head to the side. "Lied about what?"
"My intentions. You know, in the beginning, I had every intention of protecting you because I knew—I know—what she's capable of. Then, after watching you with her . . . the way you looked at her when she wasn't looking . . ." I trail off and shake my head in disgust. "It made me physically ill. So, I got angry. I tricked myself into thinking that I wanted to hurt you—when really I only wanted to hurt her. I twisted and bent myself over backward trying to become someone that I'm just not.
"I never intended for it to go this far—this deep. But it did—it has. I never set out to hurt you, but I'm afraid that I have because what you had with her—at least on your end—it's not there anymore. And I'm afraid. I'm afraid because I think that you can see it and I'm afraid because I think that she can feel it."
"Oh, Anastasia," he murmurs.
I choke back a sob as I continue.
"And I haven't tried very hard to get over you. Last Monday completely destroyed me. My mind was completely frazzled by everything going on around me. When Grandma died that night, all I wanted to do was hear your voice. But I couldn't because what if you were still angry or if Elliot hadn't talked to you or if you hadn't believed him—I knew emailing you or calling you wouldn't please you.
"You please me all the time, Little One," he whispers. "How often do I have to tell you that? Besides that, no matter how I felt, if you had asked for me to come—I would have been there in a heartbeat to help you."
"Oh, Christian," I murmur. "I just never know what you're thinking. There are times when you're so closed off that you're like an island state. Then there are times when you seem to just drown me out like an angry ocean. That's why I can't tell you how I feel or what I'm thinking. I never know which way your mood is going to go. It goes up and down and back again in a millisecond. It's mind-boggling. Then there's the not-so-little fact that you won't let me touch you, and I want to so bad," I plead. "I need to be able to touch you to show you just how much I love you."
In the brief flashes of street lights in the dark, I see his wary look of uncertainty, and I can't take it a moment longer. I take him by surprise as I quickly unbuckle my seat belt.
He protests, "Ana—" And I clamber into his lap where I place both of my hands on his cheeks.
"I love you, Christian Grey. I love you so much, it hurts. I know it's wrong. I know what I've done is wrong. I know you're married and in love and with Leila. I know that. You're prepared to do all this for me—to shelter a part of you that makes you who you are. You claim that you don't deserve me, but it's quite the opposite, I think. I'm so sorry that I can't be what you need me to be—that I can't do all those things you need to do. I can hope, that maybe with time, I can learn to be the Submissive that my Dominant craves . . ."
"All I could ever want or hope for is sitting right here in my lap. I just need to know if you feel the same way. Will you have me?"
"Yes, if the offer still stands, I accept. Where do I sign?"
He snakes his arms around me and crushes me to him, holding me as a willing captive.
"Oh, Ana," he breathes as he buries his nose in my hair and lets out a large sigh of satisfaction.
Soothing piano music drifts throughout the car as we sit with our arms wrapped around one another. I'm enjoying the tranquility of the moment after the eye of the storm, snuggling into his embrace as I rest my head in the crook of his neck. I shiver as he gently strokes my back and Leila let's out a soft snore.
"Touching is a hard limit for me, Anastasia," he whispers. "That is the only way I know how to explain it."
"I know. I wish I understood why. I wish I could help by taking away the pain and taking it on myself."
"Oh, you sweet girl." He sighs and speaks softly. "My childhood was horrific. The crack whores pimp. . ." His voice trails off before he picks up again. "He beat me with a belt. I can remember that," he shudders and I shiver, remembering the bite all too well. "Those memories are not something that I've ever wanted to burden your extraordinary mind with, Little One. When we met, your innocence was always quite disarming. Even still, and it's something I've always cherished. I hate tarnishing such beauty with secrets from my horrid past."
I tighten my arms around his neck affectionately. "Was she abusive?" I ask, remembering the burn scars I am now far too familiar with.
"No, not that I can remember. She was neglectful though. I starved and not once did she protect me from her pimp." He snorts and shakes his head. "If anything, it was me who looked after her. Brushing her hair, singing to her as she laid there strung out. When she finally killed herself, it took about four days before the pimp found her and called it in. I remember that vividly.
I gasp in horror as bile threatens to spill from my lips. Holy mother fuck.
"That's awfully fucked-up," I whisper.
"Fifty Shades of fucked-up, baby," he whispers.
"My, fifty shades," I murmur reassuringly.
I press my lips against his neck, seeking and offering my other half the gift of solace. I imagine him laying beside his mother—a small, dirty, and cold, gray-eyed boy—mentally and emotionally lost to circumstance.
Oh, Christian. My Dominant. My lover. My soulmate.
I breathe in his heavenly scent—fresh linen and a dusting of rain—taking joy in my favorite fragrance in the entire world. He tightens his arms around my body and lovingly kisses the very top of my head, letting me sit wrapped in his embrace as Taylor speeds into the night.
P.R.E.T.T.Y.B.I.G.L.I.E.S
When I wake, it is to the gentle caress of Christians finger along my cheek.
"Hi," Christian says softly.
I sit up from my comfortable napping spot on his lap in the safety of his arms, blinking the sleep from my eyes as I stretch and murmur my apologies.
"I'm sorry."
"It's no problem, Little One. I could watch you sleep an eternity."
"Did I talk in my sleep?"
"No," he murmurs in amusement. "Not this time around anyway. We're almost to your place."
"We're not going to yours?" I playfully pout.
"No, Little One. Not tonight," he says affectionately.
"Why not?" I ask teasingly, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
"Because you have work tomorrow and because while I adore you, it would be awfully hard to convince Leila that you needed to stay. Plus, we would both end up playing hooky tomorrow, and I thought you were enjoying your job."
"Oh. I am," I pout.
"Did my mischievous girl have something in mind?"
"Well, maybe," I squirm.
He chuckles and it reverberates throughout his body. "Oh, my dearest Anastasia, I am not going to touch you r delectable little body again, not until you beg me to."
"What!" I nearly shout and he shushes me.
"Shh! It is so that you'll start communicating with me. The next time we make love, I want you to be able to tell me exactly what it is you want in fine detail."
"Not if I make you beg first, Grey," I quip.
He gives me a challenging smirk.
"Game on, baby."
He shifts me off his lap and to his side as Taylor pulls up outside my apartment. It's then, that Leila finally makes a noise. Twisting in her seat, her head falls back onto the headrest and she lets out a sigh.
"Mmmrey," she murmurs.
Christian's forehead wrinkles in confusion and when his moon gray eyes meet mine in the dark shadow of the car, he looks lost.
Rolling his shoulders back, he shakes his head and turns, climbing out of the car to hold the car door open for me.
"Before you go, I have something for you." He moves to the back of the car, opens the trunk, and pulls out a large gift-wrapped box that looks like it was wrapped by a third grader. Meaning, that Christian himself had wrapped this special present.
"What is it?"
"Open it when you get inside and you'll find out."
"You're not coming in?"
"No, Anastasia."
"You're trying to trick me into going in like a good girl, rather than dealing with my usual reluctance."
He grins. "Yes."
"Then when will I get to see you?"
"Tomorrow."
"My boss wants me to go out for a drink tomorrow after work."
Christian's face grows menacing as be growls out, "Does he, now? Whatever for?"
"It's to celebrate my first week," I murmur meekly.
"Where is this celebratory after work drink taking place at?"
"I'm not quite sure where as of yet."
"I could pick you up from wherever there is."
"I would like that very much. I'll email or text you, is that okay?"
"Yes. I look forward to it. Now, I know tonight was odd having Leila around—"
"I understand why she was with. Even if you're angry with her, you have to keep up appearances. Plus, she's basically known José just as long as I have now—and she does enjoy a good art show."
"You are correct on all points, my brilliant girl," he smiles. "As I was saying, I believe Leila wanted to have you over for dinner tomorrow. Something about apologizing for your fight because you never answered her phone calls."
"I forgot about my phone," I shrug. "I left it with you and then I never switched my calls back to my old cell phone."
"Well, we'll do dinner with her. It will placate her for a while and then we can spend some time together afterward. Depending on the time, I may have to bring her along for drinks. I'll let you know once I find out."
Taking my hand in his, he walks me to the door of the lobby and patiently waits as I dig my keys out of my purse and unlock the door. The moment we're inside and out of view, he pulls me aside. Leaning forward, he gently grasps my chin as he tilts my head back and begins to leave a trial of kisses from my temple, down to the corner of my mouth. When his lips teasingly hover over mine for more than a second, a small moan escapes my wanting lips.
"Until tomorrow my Littlest One," he breathes.
The blatant need in my voice is evident as I bid him adieu. "Goodnight, Sir."
His smile is telling as he hands over my gift.
"In you go."
His voice is soft as he sends me on my way across the lobby until he calls out. "Laters, baby."
I giggle to myself as he gracefully turns around and heads back out to the car.
Quickly, I make my way to my apartment. Once safely locked inside, I open the haphazardly wrapped gift and find not only my MacBook Pro laptop and the BlackBerry, but a slim rectangular box wrapped in silver paper
What is this? The man knows how I feel about him spending money on me, yet he goes and does this. After spending who knows how much at José's show!
Ever so carefully, I slit open the silver paper to find a slim black leather case inside.
No. No . . . IIt can't be . . . can it?
With shaking hands, I open the case, finding an iPad nestled inside. Holy shit . . . another extravagant and unnecessary gift.
A white card rests on the screen with a message written in Christian's elegant handwriting:
Anastasia—this is especially for you.
I know what you want to hear.
The music on here says it for me.
Christian
I, Anastasia Rose Steele, have a Christian Grey mix tape in the guise of a high-end iPad, in my hands. Okay, so maybe not an unnecessary gift, but still—an iPod would have sufficed. Still, the purchase surprises me. Despite not being very tech savvy myself, I've always known Apple is the way to go. Leila even has an iPad in her home office, so I know how they work. Yet even with his iPod, his MacBook laptop, and Apple everything at work—Christian is loyal to a fault when it comes to his blackberry.
I switch the iPad on and gasp as the first wallpaper image appears: a small model glider. Only, it's not just any little glider. It's the Blanik L-23 that I gave to him in the box of junk that I had Elliot deliver to him. It's now mounted on a glass stand that is resting on his desk at his office. Oh, Christian. The things you do as a man who claims to have no heart.
I now remember that he mentioned it in the note with the flowers he had sent—which means he really did personally send the flowers and their accompanying note. And the glider!
He built it! He really did build it. The man I have fallen for so dearly has put a great deal of thought and time into this gift.
I slide the screen to unlock it and gasp again as the second wallpaper photo comes into view. A photo that I took on his phone one rainy weekend last fall. The only visible part of Christian's face is his jawline and his great smile—while both his arms are wrapped around my head as I laugh beneath their cover. It's one of my favorite photos—and one of our only. We both look so happy in it and I can't help but grin knowing that I'm the one that put that smile on his face that day. He's mine
A gentle swipe of my finger makes the icons shift over so that several new ones appear on the next screen. There is the Kindle App, iBooks, Words, and The British Library?!
I touch the icon and I'm mentally stuttering in disbelief when the menu appears reading: Historical Collection. Scrolling down, I find Novels of the 18th and 19th Century listed. With bubbling excitement I select it and choose a title at random. There before me is a scanned copy of The American By Henry James. Holy shit—it's not just any copy, but an early edition, published in 1879. The man may claim that he doesn't do hearts and flowers but he's proved himself very wrong by purchasing the British Library for me at the touch of a on-screen button.
I quickly exit, knowing that I could lose myself in this gift for the rest of my pathetic life. Instead, I continue to scroll through his app purchases. A weather app from the local channel, a news app, an app for yoga and meditation, plus several apps featuring recipes and healthy eating. All very Christian, except he mentioned music. I go back to the main screen, and find the music, squealing to myself as a playlist appears. I scroll through the songs, and I'm floored by his charming actions. Frank Sinatra, Thomas Tallis,—a piece hard to forget when you've been flogged and fucked to it twice—then comes the Bach Marcello piece, Jeff Buckley, some Maroon 5—which at the moment is my favorite band—and a song called "Principles of Lust" by Enigma and another called "Possession." Very Christian.Plus, even more, that I've never even heard of.
Selecting a song that catches my eye, I press play. One of my favorites "Things I'll Never Say" by Avril Lavigne. She starts to sing, and the familiar lyrics that tell me Christian is just as nervous and in love as I am, are like a breath of fresh air, soaking my soul in bliss as I burrow down into my bed.
The man that seems to have been born a Dom is actually just as much of a nervous mess as I am. He wants me just as much as I want him and he's willing to prove it.I let the lyrics consume my mind as I attempt to wrap my mind around the concept of Christian wanting me to be his one and only. He truly wants to be by my side day and night. He actually feels something for me. Despite Leila. This beautiful gift of books and music, the portraits, the car,—that my dumb ass gave back—my student loans—he cares. He really cares. I feel as my heart swells with an abundance of love as I lose myself in the music.
The song ends and I quickly choose another by Avril Lavigne, "Keep Holding On"—a song made for a book turned movie, one that I loved very much. Tears flood my eyes as I hear the words and let them wash over me like a rushing river.
Could it be? Christian Greybegging me to stay and be patient until the end? Am I reading too much into this? I am probably reading too much into this.
Deciding that I need to email him to confess just how much this means to me, I reach for my laptop from the confines of the box and wipe my tears away.
Coldplay begins to play as I arrange myself so I'm sitting cross-legged on my bed.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: IPAD
Date: June 9 2011 23:56
To: Christian Grey
You have made me cry once again.
I love the iPad.
I love the songs.
I love the British Library App.
I love you.
Thank you.
Good night.
Ana xx
From: Christian Grey
Subject: iPad
Date: June 10 2011 00:03
To: Anastasia Steele
I'm very happy that you like it. I happened to purchase one for myself too.
Now, if I were there, I would kiss away each and every one of your tears.
But I'm not—so go to sleep Little One.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
His response makes me giggle through my tears—still so domineering, which makes him my Christian. With no rules, will that change, too? In that defining moment, I realize that I hope it never disappears completely. I happen to enjoy his dominance quite a lot. As long as I can stand up to him face-to-face without the fear of his belt, I will be content.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Mr. Grumpy
Date: June 10 2011 00:07
To: Christian Grey
You sound just like your usual bossy, definitely tense, and possibly grumpy self, Mr. Grey.
I know something that could most definitely ease that. But then again, you're not here—you wouldn't let me stay, and you expect me to be the one to beg . . .
Keep dreaming, Sir.
Ana xx
PS: I have made note that you have included the Stalker's Anthem, "Every Breath You Take" in your enjoyable playlist. I do enjoy your sense of humor, but does Dr. Flynn know? I fear, it is time I met him so I may inform him of your stalking tendencies, Sir.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Zen-Like Calm
Date: June 10 2011 00:10
To: Anastasia Steele
My Dearest Miss Steele
You do know, that spanking occurs in vanilla relationships, too. Consensually and in a sexual context? Yes, but I am more than willing to make an exception if you decide to play this game.
You shall be relieved to know that Dr. Flynn also enjoys my sense of humor. Although, perhaps you are right. It is time the two of you met. I'm sure he'd enjoy psychoanalyzing our relationship.
Now, please do as I say and go to sleep like a good girl. As we both know, sleep will be nonexistent this weekend, starting tomorrow.
Incidentally—you should trust me when I say that you shall be the one to beg. And I look forward to it.
Christian Grey
Tense CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Good Night, Sweet Dreams
Date: June 10 2011 00:12
To: Christian Grey
Well, since you have asked ever so nicely, and I quite like your delicious threat, I shall curl up with the iPad that you have so kindly given me and fall asleep browsing the British Library, and listening to music, like the good girl I indeed, am.
A xxx
From: Christian Grey
Subject: One more request
Date: June 10 2011 00:15
To: Anastasia Steele
Dream of me and I shall dream of you, Little One.
x
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Always
Date: June 10 2011 00:17
To: Christian Grey
Dream sweet dreams of you, Christian Grey? Always.
Ana xxxx
I quickly get ready for bed— brushing my teeth, washing my face, and changing into my pajamas all before slipping under the covers. Putting one earbud in do I can still hear my alarm, I pull out the very-much-flattened Charlie Tango balloon from underneath the edge of my pillow before hugging it to me.
After the day I have had, I am in seventh heaven with a wide grin plastered on my face. The difference a day makes it just astounding
And I have to wonder how I'm ever going to relax enough to get any rest.
The Goo Goo Dolls start to sing the soothing melody of "Iris" as I slowly drift into a restful sleep—marveling at how the universe has righted itself in just one mess of an evening. Perhaps a playlist is in order for my favorite man, just to show him what he's done for me
P.R.E.T.T.Y.B.I.G.L.I.E.S
The upside of being utterly and completely car-less is that while I'm on the bus on my way to work, I can listen to music on my iPad while it's safely tucked away in the confines of my purse. After a morning filled with music from Christian's playlist, I walk into work with a ridiculous grin plastered on my face.
Jack even glances up at me as I reach my desk and does a double take.
"Good morning, Ana. You look well . . . rested." His remark irks me, and I somehow manage hide just how inappropriate I think it was.
"Good morning. I just happened to sleep well after a rather very long day, thank you."
His forehead crinkles as he narrows his eyes, looking very pissed off.
"I see. Well, I'd like you to read first chapters on these and have reports written up for each of them by the time lunch rolls around." He hands me four manuscripts with a rather vicious scowl.
"Sure thing," I smile, feeling relief when he doesn't make another unnecessary comment and instead gives me a broad smile in return.
I settle in with my breakfast consisting of a vanilla latte and a banana as I sit waiting for the computer to warm up. If Christian went back on his word of not interfering with my work, then my one wish would be to have a new computer. Before I begin to work, I check my email and am pleasantly surprised when I find that there's an email from Christian waiting for me in my inbox.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: So Help Me . . .
Date: June 10 2011 08:05
To: Anastasia Steele
I do hope you've had breakfast on this beautiful morning.
I missed you last night.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Old books . . .
Date: June 10 2011 08:33
To: Christian Grey
I am eating a banana as I type. Please remember, I haven't had breakfast in several days, so it's a step forward. I love love love the British Library App—I started rereading Robinson Crusoe . . . and of course, I love love love you too.
Now leave me alone—I am trying to be a productive worker.
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Is that all you've eaten?
Date: June 10 2011 08:36
To: Anastasia Steele
You can do better than a banana. Remember, you're going to need your energy for begging, Little One.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Pest
Date: June 10 2011 08:39
To: Christian Grey
Mr. Grey—I am trying to work for a living—and it is you that shall be begging on your knees, kind sir.
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Bring It On!
Date: June 10 2011 08:36
To: Anastasia Steele
Why, Miss Steele, I do love a challenge . . .
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I can't help but grin at the screen like an idiot when I read his reply. Glancing at th clock, I withhold a sigh and my witty reply as I decide to get to my actual pile of work. After all, the manuscripts could read and report on themselves. Plus, I didn't want to draw attention to myself anymore than I already had. My goal was to stay as far out of Jacks creepy reach as possible.
Keeping Christian out of jail would depend on it.
P.R.E.T.T.Y.B.I.G.L.I.E.S
When it's time for lunch, I head to the deli down the street for a vegetarian sub and begin to listen to more of the lovely playlist Christian created. The man has an eclectic taste in music. One moment it can be classic rock or pop, and the next it can be a classical piece such as Fantasia on Theme. He even goes as far as including "When I Look At You" by Miley Cyrus—a song from my favorite movie that he was forced to watch when he arrived one weekend to find me sick as a dog. Fifty not only has a sense of humor, but a heart of gold, and I love him all the more for it.
As the afternoon drags on, I decide, in the spur of the moment, to email my favorite dominant.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Bored . . .
Date: June 10 2011 16:05
To: Christian Grey
Twiddling my thumbs after a long morning.
How are you?
What are you doing?
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Your thumbs
Date: June 10 2011 16:15
To: Anastasia Steele
You should have come to work for me, Miss Steele.
Rest assured, you wouldn't be twiddling your thumbs.
I am sure I could put them to far better use.
In fact, I can think of a number of options . . . most of them involving creative use of my office furniture. A little rearranging never hurt anyone, right?
I am doing the usual humdrum that is mergers and acquisitions.
It's all very dry.
As I have just put her on hold, remember that we have dinner plans with Leila tonight.
Your emails at SIP are monitored.
Christian Grey
Distracted CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
Oh, shit. Wait . . . How the hell does he know? Unless . . . No, he promised long ago that he wouldn't interfere. Even if a new computer would be nice. . . No! No. Not possible. I scowl at the screen and quickly check the emails we've sent, deleting them as I go.
Jack is at my desk as soon as the clock says that it's five thirty. In a pair of light wash jeans and a black shirt, it is abundantly clear that he's celebrating the fact that it's Casual Friday.
"You are coming for a drink, aren't you Ana? We all usually like to go for a quick one at the bar across the street."
"We?" My interest is piqued at the use of the word.
"Yeah, most of us around the office go . . . you coming?"
Relief floods through me—knowing that I don't have to be alone with him in some strange bar that is sure to be a dive is like a weight lifted off my shoulders.
"Sure, I've got a little bit of time today. What's the bar called?"
"Fifty's."
"You're kidding," I murmur, offhandedly.
He looks at me like I've grown a second head—and not for the first time today. "No, it's just across from here. Some significance for you?"
"No, just a bit of an inside joke with an old friend," I smile weakly. "I'll meet you over there."
"What would you like to drink?"
"A beer is fine, thanks."
"Alright, see you in a few."
As I make my way to the restroom, I pull out my BlackBerry and send a quick email to my favorite Fifty.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: You'll Fit Right In
Date: June 10 2011 17:36
To: Christian Grey
We are heading to a bar across the street that is aptly called Fifty's.
The vast sea of jokes that you could be subjected to tonight is a sight unforeseen.
I look forward to seeing you there, Mr. Grey.
A. x
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Hazards
Date: June 10 2011 17:38
To: Anastasia Steele
I never pictured you as a comedian Miss Steele.
Although, now that you've got me thinking . . . Nah, you'll still have to beg. ;)
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Hazards?
Date: June 10 2011 17:40
To: Christian Grey
And your point is, kind Sir?
Again, you are wrong. I'll have you begging for me just as I did the very night I gave myself to you.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Merely . . .
Date: June 10 2011 17:42
To: Anastasia Steele
Just making an observation, Miss Steele.
I'll have you begging for permission to kneel.
I'll see you shortly.
Sooners rather than laters, baby.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I can't help but smile to myself at the use of his Elliot-esque joke as I check myself out in the mirror. The difference that just one day has made is astounding My cheeks are slightly flushed, and my plain blue eyes have a little more light to them. It's evident that after ten days in purgatory, I am feeling the full Christian Grey effect. A little email banter with that man can completely do me in. I smirk at myself in the mirror as I straighten my pale blue blouse—the one Taylor bought me after the disastrous night out at the bar. Then, I pull my favorite dark wash skinny jeans up from where they're falling off my hips—not eating for a week will do that to a girl—and I'm reminded that a shopping trip needs to occur at some point this weekend. After all, with my very generous inheritance I could more than afford it. I let my hair out of its loose braid before quickly applying some lipstick and perfume before I head out.
As I step out of the building, a burly man with his hood pulled up brushes past me as he drags a screaming girl along by her arm. I'm nearly about to call out to ask if everything is alright when I hear my name being called. "Ana?"
I turn expectantly, and a bright-eyed Leila approaches me. She looks like she's just come from the spa—all shiny and new again and not sporting the massive hangover I expected her to be nursing all day long.
"Ana?" she repeats, and her features seem to brighten in the sunlight as she speaks. She's acting as if I should be expecting her, when I was really only expecting to see her at dinner—wherever that may be.
I plaster a smile on my face. "Yes? Sorry—what are you doing here?"
She stops, staring at me from about three feet away on the sidewalk, and I stare back, suddenly immobilized. Why is Leila waiting outside of SIP like nothing is wrong?
"Did you happen to see why that guy was dragging that poor girl along?" I ask.
She tilts her head to the side and gives me a calculating look that seems to ask if I'm crazy.
"I didn't see anyone," she shrugs. "Besides, it's better to not get caught up in other peoples drama."
"Right," I frown. "So, what's up? What are you doing here?" I ask. How did she know to wait for me today of all days?
"Well, Christian mentioned you were having a drink with your boss after work, when we were having lunch with Elena. Since we're doing dinner tonight I figured I would just tag along. You're clueless when it comes to the male species, so I thought I could see just how interested he truly is. No harm, no foul." Her voice is eerily soft as she shrugs off her seemingly kind—and out of character—gesture.
I take a moment to study her as she stands before me. Her dark, slight wavy hair starkly contrasts with her fair skin in the sunlight and her usual flat bourbon eyes, seem unusually wide and bright. It's as if she's an entirely different person today.
"Thanks, I guess," I frown and shake my head. "Sorry—it's just, I had no idea you would be here. Christian didn't mention it when we talked." I say, trying to ignore the warning tingle that moves up and down my spine. On closer inspection, she really looks odd—like she's up to something—and she hasn't looked quite so devious in years. Her clothes are even more revealing than usual. She's dressed in a short black swing dress with a plunging neckline and sky-high black suede boots.
She laughs, a strange, discordant sound that only feeds my anxiety.
"What, do you not want me here?" she asks sarcastically.
My anxiety morphs into anger. "I'm sorry—I'm just a little confused is all. I thought once Christian picked me up we were meeting you for dinner."
"Well, you were. When he mentioned that you got off at five thirty, I thought I would just surprise both of you." She lifts her arm to drag her hand through her now shoulder length hair, and as she does, the long sleeve of her dress rides up, revealing what looks to be like a bandage wrapped around her wrist.
What the fuck?
"Leila, what's that on your wrist?" Turning, she walks toward the street and stops. "Leila, I asked you a question." Ignoring me, her slight frame makes its way across the street towards the bar.
What is going on?
Confused, I hurriedly cross the street to the bar, trying to figure out exactly what is going on, while my subconscious notes—This has something to do with that god-awful Elena Lincoln woman and whatever Leila is hiding from Christian.
I don't get a chance to have another private word with her as I walk into the bar behind Leila. Upon my first look, I see that Fifty's is just like your run of the mill bar—filled with baseball memorabilia and impersonal posters. I find Jack sitting at the bar with Elizabeth, the other editor Courtney, two guys from Finance, and Claire from Reception.
"Hi, Ana!" Jack hands me a bottle of Bud Light and I give him a tight smile in return.
"Thank you," I murmur, still shaken by Leila's sudden interest and appearance in my personal life.
"Cheers." We clink bottles, and his eyes fall onto my sister. He smiles as his eyes flick from her to me and back again. "And who's your friend?"
"This is my sister, Leila Grey."
"Oh, the sister of the brother-in-law that took you out last night." He comments, his eyebrows raised as he takes a drink of his beer.
Seeming unaffected by his attempt to disarm her, Leila smiles her tabloid smile—the one she saves for snotty reporters and Mia's snarky friends.
"Yes, we did enjoy the art show. The photographer was quite talented."
"You went along?" he asks, tilting his head to the side.
"Well, of course. I joined by husband and we kept my sister company while supporting a mutual friend. I'm so lucky that I have such a supportive and kind husband. Christian and Ana really do have the best friendship I could have hoped for. He treats her like family."
Jack simply nods looking slightly pissed off as turns back to Elizabeth to continue their conversation.
Claire smiles sweetly at me.
"So, how has your first week been?" she asks.
"Good, thank you. Everyone has been very friendly."
"You seem much happier today."
"It's Friday," I mutter quickly, sparing a glance at Leila. "So—do you have any plans this weekend?"
My patented distraction technique works and I'm saved. Claire goes on about being one of seven kids and Leila interjects that we're both one of two. Claire laughs at her clever joke and I smile along, not feeling up to explaining that we're really only half-sisters. As she talks about going to a big family get-together in Tacoma, she becomes quite animated, and I realize I haven't spoken to any women my own age since Kate left for Barbados. I simply can't count Leila.
Absently I wonder how Kate is doing . . . and Elliot. I have to remember to ask Christian if he's heard from him. Except for if they fought, they may not be talking. Shit. If that's the case, I have to wonder how Elliot is getting along with Ethan being that he and Christian have warned him off of Mia multiple times. Shit. Ethan, is supposed to be back on Tuesday, and he'll be staying in our apartment.I can't imagine Christian is going to be happy about that. Of course, he'll be sharing a bed with Leila the entire time—someone he is still clearly still sleeping with—so really, it's not that big of a deal that Ethan will be sleeping one room away from me. Being that I'm the other woman, I can't really complain if he is sleeping with his wife. Can I?
During my conversation with Claire, Leila gets up to get herself another martini and Elizabeth hands me another beer.
"Thanks." I smile at her.
Claire is very easy to talk to—she likes to talk—and before I know it, I am on my third beer, courtesy of one of the guys from Finance. What is it? Everyone buy Ana a drink day?
When Elizabeth and Courtney leave, Jack joins Claire, Leila, and me. Where is Christian? One of the finance guys engages Claire in conversation—I really must learn their names—and Leila begins to animatedly talk to one of his friends.
"So Ana, do you think you made the right decision coming here?" Jack's voice is soft, and he's standing a bit too close. It's a habit I've noticed because he has a tendency to do this with everyone, even at the office, and I'm not entirely thrilled by it. In fact, I'm downright uncomfortable.
"I've enjoyed myself this week, thank you, Jack. Yes, I think I made the right decision by choosing SIP."
"That sounds like you had other offers. Doesn't surprise me in the least though. You're a very bright girl, Ana. You'll go far."
I involuntarily blush at his comment. "Thank you," I mutter. "Yes, I had other offers. In fact, one of them was from Christian."
"Ah, the business mogul. I have the feeling he takes care of his family very well," he flashes me a slimy grin. "Do you live far?"
Ignoring his comment I grimace. "The Pike Market district."
"Not far from me." Smirking, he moves even closer and leans against the bar, effectively trapping me in one move. "Do you have any plans this weekend?"
"Well . . . um—"
Saved—I feel him before I actually see him. It's as if my whole body is highly attuned to his presence. The pull between us relaxes me and ignites my soul all at the same time—it's like an invisible thread—pulling us closer together without either of us even trying.
Christian drapes his arm around my shoulder in a seemingly casual display of affection—but deep down, I know differently. He is staking his claim, and on this occasion, it's very welcome. There's no use in denying what is abundantly clear. I am his. I always have been and I always will be.
Ever so softly he affectionately kisses the top of my head. "Hello, little one," he murmurs in greeting.
I feel safe as he draws me to his side. When I glance up at him while he stares at Jack, his expression remains impassive. Turning towards me, he gives me a quick crooked smile followed by a swift kiss on the cheek. I notice the ends of his hair are still damp, and I deduce that due to his attire of his favorite black leather jacket paired with a white shirt and jeans that he's just left the gym after a workout with Claude.
Jack shuffles from one foot to the other and I manage to mumble a slightly apologetic introduction.
"Jack, this is Christian." Why am I apologizing again? Oh, right. Because he's a complete creep and he's my boss. With the way he's been looking at me there's no way that he won't take this out on me in some way, come Monday morning. "Christian, Jack."
"I'm the brother-in-law," Christian says with a smile that doesn't quite reach his icy eyes as he shakes Jack's hand. I glance up at Jack who is mentally assessing the man in front of him with a face void of any expression.
"I'm the boss," Jack replies arrogantly. "Ana did mention something about a brother-in-law."
What the fuck is this man getting at? I've mentioned Christian only two or three times to him and he's acting as if he knows our dark, dirty little secrets.
"Well, I would imagine so, we get along quite well. I'm very protective of her." Christian replies calmly. "Come on, Little One, it's time to go."
"Please, stay and join us for a drink," Jack says smoothly. "Your wife was even enjoying herself."
Why is Hyde almost insisting on making this uncomfortable? I glance at Claire, who is, of course practically drooling into her drink as she stares at Christian. When will I stop caring about the effect he has on other women? Then I take in Leila's expression, and while she is glaring at Jack, she looks almost pleased that Christian is staking a claim.
"We have plans," Christian replies with his disarming smile.
We do? Oh, right. Dinner. With Leila.
"Another time, perhaps," he adds. "Come," he says to me as he takes my hand and then quickly turns to wrap his other arm around Leila, who has without a word, joined us.
"See you Monday." I plaster a smile on my face as I wave goodbye to Jack, Claire, and the guys from Finance, trying hard to ignore the less-than-pleased expression on Jacks face as I let Christian lead me out of the door.
When we reach the Audi waiting at the curb, Christian drops his arm from Leila's waist keeps hold of my hand as he opens the door of the car for me.
"Why did that almost feel like a pissing contest?" I ask.
"Because it was," he murmurs and gives me his charming smile as Leila slides in next to me and snorts, before he then shuts the door.
"Hello, Taylor," I say and our eyes meet in the review mirror.
"Miss Steele," Taylor smiles.
Christian walks around the car and slides into the seat beside me, leaving me in the middle of him and Leila as he clasps my hand in his.
"Hi," he says softly.
"Hi," I breathe. "So, can one of you please explain what just happened? Or why you're both here?"
Leila sighs as I look at her.
"You had no idea that the guy . . . Trevor or something was going to attempt to hit on you. So, I stepped in because he looked like a total bore. Then, Jack surprised me by moving in. I just let Christian know that Jack seemed a little too interested via text. That's all," Leila shrugs.
"After your last email, Leila called about dinner. I mentioned that I was going to pick you up, so she decided to meet you at the last minute. Thank fuck too, because she let me know that you looked uncomfortable when Hyde was talking to you. I watched him corner you in, Anastasia. If it wasn't for the fact that he seems to know exactly who I am, I would have told him I was your boyfriend."
I feel my cheeks flush despite knowing that Leila isn't paying the least bit of attention to us now, so I know she can't see the scorching look that Christian is giving me. If it wasn't for her presence, I'd be right on top of him in the backseat of the car.
"Are you okay with dinner at Escala this evening?"
"I thought you said Leila had made dinner plans?"
"Well, yes. I'm not quite sure what she has planned. I think she plans on getting you drunk. Something about bonding time."
"I'm not going to get her drunk. She's never been drunk."
Christian snorts and Leila throws us both a curious look.
"Am I missing something?"
"Don't you remember our conversation at the Grey's during dinner?" At her blank look I sigh. "When Christian was in Portland for work, he rescued me from a drunk night out. Kate was with Elliot, when my previous friend from last night was making his move. Christian rescued me and I puked all over his billion dollar shoes. End of story."
Leila's eyebrows raise in surprise and she looks at Christian with a look of uncertainty.
"Right, I remember now. But how did Elliot end up there with you? Or Christian, for that matter."
"We were celebrating the fact that we had finished our finals. As for how Elliot got there, I'm not sure."
"I asked him to go hiking while I was there for work. We don't get to do things like that very often," he shrugs.
"Okay, I just don't understand why neither of you ever mentioned all of that to me before?"
"Well, Leila," he says easily, "Sometimes there are things I don't tell you, just as you don't tell me everything."
"What is that supposed to mean?" she snaps.
"Nothing of importance that is worth discussing now."
"Great," she snarls. "A moody Christian Grey. That's exactly what I want this evening."
Ignoring her he simply turns to me and she returns to her phone.
"So how has your day been?" he asks.
"Good, I suppose. Better than my week, at least. How about yours?" I ask cautiously.
"Good, thank you."
His ridiculously broad grin reflects mine and I can't help but flush again.
"You look very lovely," he says. "The blue suits you."
"Um . . . Thank you?"
"Jack Hyde, he's your boss. Does it seem like he's good at his job?"
Well, that's a sudden change in direction.
"He can be a little moody, but so far he seems to be getting his job done," I frown. "Wait, why are you asking? This isn't about your pissing contest is it?"
Christian smirks. "That man wants into your panties, Anastasia," he says dryly.
I go crimson as my mouth drops open and I nervously glance at Leila.
"Why are we even having this conversation? He can't wants all he likes. At the end of the day, you have to know I have no interest in him whatsoever. The man is just my boss."
"That's the entire point Anastasia. The creep wants what's not his and what is extremely off-limits. I need to know if he's good at his job."
I shrug. "I think so. It's not like I've been there long enough to see numbers or any sort of real progress."
"Well, he'd better leave you the fuck alone, or he'll find himself out on his ass."
"What are you talking about? He hasn't done anything wrong." At least not yet. He still reminds me of husband number three—which while I intended to tell Christian, I can't exactly tell him right now.
"If he makes one wrong move, you tell me. It's called gross moral turpitude—or sexual harassment."
"Jesus Christ, Christian it was just a few drinks after work. With a group of people. With your own wife! My sister!"
"I mean it, Ana. One move and he's out."
"You don't have that kind of power. Not unless . . ." I roll my eyes as the realization hits me with the force of a speeding freight truck. "Oh, Christian no! No! You didn't! Please, tell me you didn't!" I gasp. "Do you, Christian?"
Christian gives me his enigmatic smile.
"You're buying it," I whisper in horror.
His smile slips in response to the panic in my voice. "Not exactly," he says cautiously.
"You've bought SIP, already?"
He blinks at me, warily. "Possibly. Maybe."
"You have or you haven't?"
"Have."
What the fuck?!
"Why?" I gasp, appalled. "You promised me that you wouldn't interfere with my job!"
"Because I can, Anastasia. I need to keep you safe."
"But you said you wouldn't interfere with my career!"
"And I won't."
"I asked him to do it," Leila whispers, catching me off guard.
I turn and look at her in horror as I snatch my hand out of his. "You what?!"
"I could see how worried he was when you first mentioned your boss. Then, on top of that, he mentioned how dangerous it could be if anyone realized who you were . . . Ana, you're not just Ana Steele, anymore. I'm married to Christian Grey and after that picture in the paper . . . you're pictured with us often enough that it's possible someone could attempt to hurt you. We just want you safe, so I gave him the go-ahead. Not that he needed it," she mumbles.
"Are you mad at me?" Christian asks quickly.
"Yes. Of course, I'm mad at you. I'm mad at both of you!" I seethe. "But you—I mean, what kind of responsible business executive makes decisions based on who he's—" he's currently fucking "—he's related to by marriage?" I blanch at my almost-said-words and glance nervously once more at Leila, who is now stoically ignoring us.
Shit. What a time to almost have a brain-to-mouth filter malfunction.
Christian opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again and openly scowls at me. As the atmosphere in the car plunges from warm to frigid, I glare at him. Our reunion had almost been sweet even with Leila's presence, but now it's frozen with animosity as we glower at one another.
Our uncomfortable journey fortunately doesn't last long as Taylor pulls up outside Escala.
Not bothering to wait for anyone to open the door, I scramble for the handle and manage to climb out over Leila as she squeals in protest.
I faintly hear Christian mutter to Leila, "Give me a minute to calm her down," as I make my way out.
As we wait for the elevator to arrive, I sense him standing close behind me. He stays near until we step on and he pushes the button to close the doors before entering the code for the penthouse.
Christian turns toward me and as I study him out of the corner of my eye he looks at me as if I'm some wild animal that he's cornered in.
"Anastasia."
I sigh, choosing to face him even though my anger is bubbling on the surface—a dark force lurking around the corner, threatening to choke me.
"I have two things to say and I would appreciate it, if you didn't interrupt me. Understood?" At my silent nod, he continues. "One, I haven't fucked you in a long while—I know we've gone much longer without being with one another before, but this sucks because of how much you mean to me.
"Two, I wanted to get into publishing. It's very beneficial to my company. Out of the four companies in Seattle, SIP was the best choice to make. It's on the cusp of going stagnate. Which means in a few years time it might not even exist if I don't step in. Then you would be out of a job. SIP needs to branch out. I'm doing this not only to protect the girl I'm clearly crazy about, but to protect the hundreds of people who work for SIP and rely on their job at SIP for their income."
My heart softens a little at his reasoning, but I continue to at least try to stare frigidly at him. Yet, I find myself nearly getting lost in the intense steel depths of his gray eyes.
I can't lose myself in him again. It's toxic. I shake my head and place my hands on my hips.
"So you're my boss now," I snap.
"Yes. Well, technically, I'm your boss's boss's boss."
"And, technically Mr. Grey, it's gross moral turpitude—the fact that I am fucking my boss's boss's boss."
"At the moment, you're just arguing with him." Christian snarls.
"That's because he's such a pompous ass," I hiss.
Christian's face morphs into one of stunned surprise.
Shit. Have I gone too far?
His expressions morphs into one of amusement as he rubs his chin. "A pompous ass?" he murmurs.
Goddammit Grey! I'm supposed to be mad at you! You cannot make me laugh right now
"Yes," I say stiffly as I struggle to maintain my look of complete outrage.
Christian shoves his hands into his pockets and repeats my words yet again, with a twitch to his lips. "A pompous ass?"
"Don't make me laugh when I'm trying to be mad at you!" I scowl.
Then of course, he smiles. His smile is one of those all-American-boy smiles that make girls scream and I can't help but to grin back at him and to make one of those horrible snort-laughs that he seems to enjoy so much.
"Watch it, Grey. Just because I have a damn grin on my face doesn't mean I'm still not mad as hell at you," I gasp breathlessly in an attempt to suppress my shrill giggling that reminds me of the cheerleaders in high school. Though I was never a cheerleader thanks to social rankings out of my control—the bitter thought crosses my mind. Leila, however, was. She had everything. She still does.
Wrapping his arms around me and pulling me to him, he leans in and at first I think he's going to kiss me, but he doesn't. Instead, he brushes his nose against mine before he stands straight and nuzzles my hair, kissing the top of my head.
"You surprise me at every turn, Little One. You're so bright, I just never know what to expect from you." He leans pack and takes one hand, stroking my cheek with the tips of his fingers before cupping my chin. "So, is my Little One going to behave during dinner, or are you going to continue to punish me? I do have to say that as an American citizen, I was only exercising my democratic right to purchase SIP because I am an entrepreneur and because it damn well pleased me to do so."
"You might want to speak to Flynn about your need to buy as you please. You can't buy everything I step foot into."
He snorts. "Flynn knows that I'm a controlling jackass. So, are you going to behave Anastasia? Or am I going to have to take you over my knee once you're done begging?"
"Oh, please," I scoff as the elevators door open and we step into the foyer. "Did you forget? You'll be the one begging at the end of the night, Grey. I'm going to make this dinner utter and complete hell for you."
Christian turns and pulls me into his arms, watching me intently as I bite my lip to keep my smile at bay. One simple look from the man had my panties drenched and useless.
"That sounds like a challenge, Miss Steele. A challenge that I am all too willing to accept."
Knowing that Christian is the expert at teasing and I've almost already lost, I pout. "Let's just get trough this dinner."
Christian throws his head back laughing and places a kiss on my forehead before he takes my hand and leads me to the kitchen without a second thought.
A Note from the Author:
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Recommended FanFiction: Crossroads by KatyJane75
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Sara Jo
