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Chapter Nine.

Impenetrable.

Ana

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Walking down the street with purpose. I head toward Christian's building. Marching, on strong and confident feet, they soon falter as I enter the intimidating, glass structure, known as Grey House. My eyes widen, full of awe as I take in my surroundings. The building is cool, sleek, majestic, and screams power.

I walk over to the large reception desk, suddenly feeling completely out of my depth. Everyone around me is impeccably dressed, and I'm feeling a little intimidated in my jeans and favorite blue, plaid shirt. My brown hair, is swinging in a ponytail, high on the top of my head and my face is free of make-up. Compared to all the perfect, Max Factor pouts and tight, blond up-dos, I stick out like a sore thumb.

I suddenly feel so out of place.

"How may I help you?" The striking, blond receptionist asks me politely, but I notice the sneer she's trying to hide, curl her beautifully painted lips as she looks me up and down, taking in my attire.

It's obvious to her, and myself, that I don't belong here.

"I would like to speak to, Mr Christian Grey, please." I state clearly, trying for confident, but her expression, once she's heard my request, quickly drops me to where she thinks I belong, squished, under her pedicured feet.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asks as her eyebrow lifts patronizingly. Her heavy, made up eyes, scan me harshly, but I ignore her hostility as I shake my head and stand a little taller.

"No, I don't." I admit, and she doesn't even attempt to hide her chuff of contempt for me. I sigh heavily, knowing that I'm not going to get any help or leeway from this rude, woman. She seems to have taken an instant dislike to me. Which pisses me off.

"Then, I'm afraid..." she begins.

"I only need five minutes of his time, please," I interrupt her. "If he's unavailable now, then could I make an appointment with him, for as soon as possible." I ask politely, with a forced smile on my lips as I hold her eye.

"That will not be possible, I'm afraid." she says evenly, without even considering it. She lowers her eyes back to her desk and attempts to look busy.

"Could you at least check his schedule for me, or buzz through to his office and ask, if he can spare a moment?" I snap without thought, my annoyance with her rising and itching to the surface.

"It would be a waste of my time. Mr Grey, is never free." she states simply, before lifting her head to look past me.

With a subtle nod to a big burly guy, who I didn't even notice was standing behind me, the cold, unhelpful receptionist, turns on her heel and walks away from me. It's clear, I've been dismissed.

Without a word, or any hesitation, the security guard, takes me firmly by my elbow and leads me out of the glass fortress. Before I have a chance to react or even slow him down, I'm stumbling down the stone steps onto the busy sidewalk.

I turn back to the doors, once I find my feet, feeling flabbergasted and really pissed off. I glare at the security guard, who's standing behind the closed glass doors with a practiced firm stance. His bulging arms are crossed over his muscular chest, and his dark eyes are glaring my way. Warning me, to stay away.

I curse him like a sailor, under my breath, of course, until my shame recedes enough to refocus. My eyes leave his, still creased with the anger I'm feeling, then rise and rise. Following the contour of the glass fortress that holds Christian Grey. I wonder, which window is his? I have no way of knowing and it wouldn't help me anyway, because Spider man, I am not.

The only way into his building is through those doors, and with the consent of those two assholes. The realization that I'm never going to get my foot in the door, sinks in fast and hard. I feel my mood and stomach simultaneously shift and plummet to my feet. So near, yet so far.

What do I do now?

Unsure of why, I turn away from Grey House, and begin to walk back down the street toward Mr Grant's office. My eyes pool with frustration as my feet begin to trudge. My despondency growing with every step I take away from Christian.

Minutes later, I'm stepping from the elevator and entering the familiar, reception area. Mr Grant steps out of his office, to pass a file to the secretary, just as the doors close behind me. He spots me immediately.

"Please, will you help me?" I beg, before either of them can say anything about my teary, reappearance.

Mr Grant's eyes, lock with mine and his face instantly softens. I see pity, sorrow, then regret, pass clearly through his eyes, before he sighs heavily and nods at me slowly.

"We will be needing more tea, please, Sylvia." he says quietly to his secretary, who nods as she smiles up at me sympathetically.

I follow Mr Grant into his office. Suddenly feeling like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. He eases me into the familiar, and comfortable wingback, before taking the seat beside me. He looks at me with the utmost compassion, and the tears, I've so far managed to keep restrained, begin to fall freely.

I feel foolish and annoyed with myself for crying in front of him, and with so little restraint, but I can't seem to stop, now that I've started. What he must think of me. I realize suddenly that I don't know how to explain my weepy state, and honestly, I'm hiding behind that. I'm hiding my self pity, my annoyance and my frustration. I'm hiding my embarrassment.

Arriving in Seattle, with no plan of action whatsoever, was pretty foolish of me. I know that now, and I don't know what outcome or reception I expected, or hoped for. I admit to pondering about the man, that the boy I knew, could've grown up to be, but I never foresaw or imagined anything like this.

It never crossed my mind, not even for a second, that Christian, could be some unreachable tycoon. I never thought he would be a man, who was encased in a protective tower of glass, with beefed up security and a witch, for a receptionist. I never thought he would be powerful enough, to have a fierce, reputation that preceded him, and made people afraid of him.

I did consider, that he could be married, even have a couple of kids, but the feeling it induced hit me hard, and I dismissed it quickly. I just thought he would've grown up to be a normal guy. A guy, who had a regular job. A job, that made him approachable.

I hoped he was a guy, who drank sociably with friends in his local pub. A busy pub, where he could easily, and discretely be observed, but now, that seems highly unlikely.

I thought, he would at least be behind a door you could approach. A door you could knock on, even enter, without being tossed to the curb like trash.

"What happened, Miss Steele?" Mr Grant's soft voice asks as my sobs and doleful thoughts subside.

I smile to myself, despite my woeful state, because his voice is so warm, and the fatherly figure I need right now, is back.

"I couldn't get near him." I admit, suddenly feeling exhausted from crying. "The receptionist, was horrid to me and had security throw me out." I confess. A heavy, embarrassed sigh leaving me.

He looks at me with sympathy before nodding. "I apologize, Miss Steele, it was only to be expected." he says calmly.

I'm too drained to be pissed at him, for sending me into the dragons den, knowing what would likely happen to me.

"I will not be put off by how I was treated. I still wish to speak to him Mr Grant, so how can I get into that building?" I ask, trying to discretely wipe my runny nose on my sleeve, and appear determined.

"Miss Steele," Mr Grant breathes, as he leans onto his hip and digs around in his front trouser pocket. "I don't think Christian Grey, is the type of man that you can just call in on to say, 'hello'." he says with a compassionate tone, but a slightly bemused smile on his lips.

He shifts his weight again, before passing me a neatly folded, pressed, monogrammed handkerchief.

"Thank you," I utter with a flush, accepting it gratefully. "Please, Mr Grant, I've realized that I can't do this alone, I need your help. I still wish to meet him, so I want to hire you. I have the means to pay you for your time, if that's what you're worried about." I suddenly gush, before blotting my eyes and blowing my nose.

"Your credit score, isn't the problem, Miss Steele... Getting you near him is." Mr Grant mutters.

Before I can reply, the office door swings open, and Sylvia, enters the room with a laden tray, but this time, she's added a packet of chocolate biscuits. Ooh, A woman after my own heart. I smile at her graciously, eager to tuck in.

Once I sip at my tea, munch on a biscuit or two, or four, I find the heat, sugar rush and time to think, helpful. I've pulled myself together and the water works have stopped. My embarrassment has now turned to strong conviction.

"Miss Steele..." Mr Grant begins as he places down his cup and turns towards me, but I quickly interrupt him.

"Please, Mr Grant, don't dismiss me. I don't know why you're so reluctant, and no offense meant, but you seem scared of him and..."

"Not scared, Miss Steele, just very cautious in regards to crossing him. I would not wish to cause any waves with him, and forgive me..."

"That will not happen, I promise you." I interrupt him.

"At this point, I'm reluctant to believe your promise." he retorts.

"All I want to do, is meet him." I state hopefully.

"That, is a challenge in it's self." he mumbles.

"Could you help me to get an appointment with him? Arrange a coincidental meeting, perhaps?" I suggest.

He shakes his head and it's clear he's still wary and reluctant about getting involved, but I know I have his compassion, so I try a different tact.

"Fine, if you can't get me near him, then please, get me all the information you can on him. I'd like to know where he lives, his schedule, his hobbies, the names of his closest friends. Everything... I need to find a way of getting close to him." my tone has gone from firm to almost begging, but I don't care. I know I'll be back to square one without this mans help.

"Even that simple task would be a challenge, Miss Steele, if not near impossible. Mr Grey is known for being a private, almost reclusive man." Mr Grant explains.

"Surely he must.." I begin, but Mr Grant continues to talk over me.

"Very little is known about him outside of the office, Miss Steele. It's very rare to see him out in public, socializing. There's no evidence of him ever having a serious relationship. He's very illusive, cold and... renowned, for being unapproachable."

"He can't be that bad." I mutter, finding it a little hard to believe. The boy I met was very easy going.

Then... His life changed.

"He excels in the board room, turns everything he touches into gold, it's well documented and publicized, but privately, nothing." Mr Grant, shrugs his shoulder as he smiles softly.

I sigh heavily, resigned, that maybe he can't help, and this could truly be, a waste of time. Maybe I'm not supposed to meet him again? My stomach rolls with the thought. No, he can't be that unobtainable. I have to see him.

"There must be some way to actually see him. He must leave the house." I state more than ask.

"You can't just approach him, Miss Steele," Mr Grant states firmly, his tone clear with his warning. "He has constant security around him, his residence is a fortress, and he..."

"You know where he lives?" I gasp, shocked that he had this information all along and never shared it with me.

"Everyone knows, who owns the penthouse of Escala." he says with a chuckle.

"Escala? What and where is that?" I question, but Mr Grant's brow creases instantly.

"Miss Steele, I must warn you, you shouldn't try and approach him, especially not at his home. Mr Grey is not known for his patience or his tolerance. He has a temper that..."

"I'll heed your advice, Mr Grant, but it could be a starting point, surely?" I interrupt, taking his apprehensive tone and urgent warning to heart, but wanting to use what we have.

Mr Grant shakes his head slowly. "Please, don't, Miss Steele." he urges.

It dawns on me, looking into his concerned eyes, that he knows, The man, better than I do, and after the way I was treated at Grey House, I know he speaks the truth and only has my best interests at heart. I'll listen to his warning.

Accessing Grey House, was bad enough. I dread to think, what could happen to me, if I went to this Escala building, unannounced. Even though I'm dying to, but no... I really don't fancy being arrested. Handcuffs, wouldn't be a good look for me.

"I learned my lesson earlier, Mr Grant, I won't be approaching him directly, but he must have friends, family, staff. Does he need a maid? A secretary, maybe? Just find any way you can, to get me five minutes of his time. Please. That's all I'm asking you to do... Nothing more." I look at him with hope, and pleading eyes, ignoring all his comments and concerns about Christian and his anger.

I don't see that as a major part of him. I can understand his anger and irritability, he's in pain and internally suffering. Has always been in pain and silently suffering. Just like I was. Only, I hid mine better, by the sounds of it.

Mr Grant, remains quiet as he ponders, considering what I've asked of him. He's studying me closely and I can tell he feels for me and wants to help, but he's still very dubious about getting involved with Christian Grey. He blatantly stares at me silently, quizzically as he considers my imploring requests.

"You don't seem like a desperate woman, Miss Steele. So why is it so important for you to have access to him?" Mr Grant asks me calmly after a few quiet minutes.

"I told you, we met as children." I say simply, but his brow lifts slowly, indicating, that he's not going to accept my brief explanation, and wants more details.

"But you never kept in touch with him?" he urges me on, repeating, what I told him earlier. I shake my head.

"No, we didn't, which is why, I just need to pop in and say, 'hello'." I try and joke, but he doesn't even give me a hint of a smile, he just continues to look at me. His face is stoic, but his eyes are thoughtful and questioning.

I can see that he doesn't believe me. He knows there's more to it than I'm letting on. He probably thinks, I've got some hidden agenda, which I supposed I have, but it's nothing bad, nothing, like he probably thinks it is.

What do I tell him? What do I share with him?

I don't know how I feel about this man, this stranger, knowing everything that happened between Christian and I, despite how comfortable he makes me feel, but I do know that I need his help. He won't give it easily or freely, so I have to give him something in return, but how much?

"Mr Grant, I'm not a stalker or a psychotic, serial killer, I promise you. I don't have an ulterior motive or wicked plan up my sleeve. I don't want anything from Christian Grey... I just need to meet him, that's all." I tell him honestly.

Mr Grant's eyes lower, his forehead creasing as he shakes his head. He's still unconvinced, and far too cautious.

"Please, before you say no, would you at least try to make contact for me, while I'm here, just once? Could just call him up, use any excuse, but allow me to jump in on the conversation?" I suggest eagerly, desperately clutching at straws.

Mr Grant's eyes widen as he shakes his head. "Oh, Miss Steele, if only it were that simple." he chuckles, looking at me with compassion and indulgence, like the grandfather he no doubt is.

He thinks I'm insane.

"Please try." I whisper, my hope fading fast, with his continued reluctance.

"Honestly, calling his office would be futile and get us nowhere, but we could draft a letter, have it couriered over and wait for..."

I huff to myself in exasperation at his suggestion, causing him to pause. I shake my head at him, knowing, I could never tell Christian about my existence by letter, he would never believe me. I need to look him in the eye.

"That won't work, I need to speak to him, in person." I tell Mr Grant, adamantly.

"If you want my help with contacting him, then I need your help too," Mr Grant replies, just as adamantly. "You have to trust me," he utters more softly, and I know he's right. "There's more to this than you're letting on."

I hold my tongue as he sits back in his chair and looks at me. Patiently. I have to be honest and open with him. He needs me to be, before he'll even consider helping me.

Resigned, to what I have to do, and slightly embarrassed. I place my cup on the desk next to his, and notice for the first time, the nameplate that's positioned on his desk, between his computer and desk lamp.

Mr W. Grant.

The gold calligraphy reads.

"What does the W, stand for?" I ask, shifting my feet from under me and sitting up straight in my chair.

"William," he informs me. "But, my friends call me Will." he adds with a smile.

"Will." I repeat. Thinking, that it suits him.

"What is your full name, Miss Steele?" he asks curiously.

"Anastasia, Rose, but my friends call me, Ana."

"Anastasia, is a lovely name but you look like an Annie." Mr Grant says with a chuckle. My heart twists at the sound of my old pet name.

"What?" he says quietly as he notices my eyes sadden.

"My Father, he used to call me Annie." I tell him in a sullen, small voice.

"It suits you." he says tenderly. "Tell me Ana, why is meeting Christian Grey, so important to you?" he questions, in the same tender tone.

I look up at him, his eyes imploring and earnest. I feel a wave of ease rush over me, and know I can trust him with my past.

I sit squarely in my chair, holding his eye as I begin to unbutton my shirt. Mr Grant catches the movement of my fingers and begins to look uncomfortable. He flushes as he stands abruptly and looks towards his office door, for help.

"Miss Steele, I don't think..." his nervous voice begins, but I interrupt him quickly.

"Mr Grant... Will, I need your help, and I need you to believe, and trust me, when I tell you that I mean Christian, no harm. The only way I can do that is by showing you something." I tell him truthfully, ignoring the heat I can feel rising up my neck at the thought of undressing in front of him.

Will frowns, still looking dubious, but nods, reluctantly, for me to continue. He leaves my side and walks to shield himself behind his desk. He sits, stone still. His eyes leaving mine, and focusing on other things around the room, anything. While I continue to undress.

"Have you met Christian, personally?" I ask, trying to make conversation. Hopefully, making him, and myself, feel more comfortable with this whole removal of my clothes situation.

"Yes." he replies, and my hopes suddenly lift as my fingers pause.

Will, must see the light in my eyes as he glances at me, but he douses my hope, quickly.

"I've only met him in passing on a few occasions, Ana. My wife, Rebbecca, volunteers her time with his mother's foundation. So we have been introduced. He's occasionally, attended local charity events and we've crossed paths at the rare honorary dinners that he's attended, fleetingly, but I've never dealt with him professionally, nor met him on any personal level... Christian Grey, is not a man you can get close to." Will concludes, looking away as I pull off my shirt and begin to reach for the hem of the white T-shirt that I have on underneath.

"Does he have any scars on his body?" I ask, knowing that even though Christian didn't perish that night, the flames he got caught up in, must have left their mark on him to some degree.

"Yes, he has." he states, and his eyes meet mine as he frowns.

"Me too." I utter from under my t-shirt, and even before my head is free from the cotton, I hear Will's sharp gasp.

As I clutch my T-shirt to my chest, covering my underwear and trying to retain some modesty, I feel Will's eyes burning into my skin. His gaze is caught and held, by the pink, one inch scar that sits on the swell of my left breast. The scar, just above my heart, that I carry with me from that night. The scar, that's clear for him to see. His eyes crease before lifting and meeting mine.

"Please, redress Ana, but I'm sorry, I don't understand." he utters, looking at me with sympathy, but also confusion.

"When Christian was Fifteen, he was involved in a car accident. He..." I begin, swiftly pulling on my T-shirt back on.

"Yes, he was. It's public record, his Father died." Will interrupts, looking at me skeptically.

I understand his wariness, I know he's probably wondering how I know this bit of information about Christian, when I knew nothing else. His mouth opens to ask me.

"I know this, because I was there." I say before his words are formed and spoken.

"You? You were there?" he utters curiously.

"Yes. The night, Christian Grey lost his Father... The night, I lost my Father. Christian, saved my life."

"How? No one's ever..." Will begins to question.

"Can you have Sylvia bring in more tea, and I'll explain everything?" I ask, suddenly eager to tell him about that night.

"Of course Ana, make yourself comfortable." he says quickly, while pushing the buzzer on his desk.

I do just that.

Half an hour later, I've shared the entire, unedited version of my past, for the first time, with a stranger. Funnily enough, it felt very therapeutic letting it all out, but that's hardly surprising as I am curled up in a leather wingback, in a dark office, lounging comfortably in front of a suit.

What eased me the most, was that Will, never moved, never interrupted, never uttered a single word, until I had finished.

"Bless you, both." he breathed.

Truthfully, it was easier than I thought, sharing with Will. I thinks it's because I now know that Christian, is alive and well. Hopefully, my honesty, will lead me to him, and not come back to bite me.

"Will you help me meet him?" I whisper as the silence in the room becomes to much for me to bear.

Will, nods slowly, absentmindedly, totally lost in thought. His eyes are glazed, his expression is almost lost, but as his eyes eventually clear and meet mine. I smile, at the awe they project my way.

"It's not gonna be easy, Ana, and I'm unsure of a time scale, there are many factors that..." his voice dwindles off as he begins to fiddle with his computer.

I sit back in my chair, letting him drift, helping myself to another chocolate biscuit. I watch the concentration on his face as he busies himself, and can finally breathe. Fully relieved and comforted, knowing I have him in my corner.

"It's Friday now, give me the weekend to gather some general intel. I'll put a few guys on him, and see what we can bring to light before Monday." he suggests, in total P.I. mode.

"Thank you so much Will, you don't know what this means to me." I say as I sit up straight. I feel my nerves buzz, and apprehension rise at the thought of where this could lead.

"I think I do Ana, but I can't promise anything at this stage. I'm unsure of how close I can actually get you to him." he tells me truthfully, seeming very regretful.

"Why are you even trying to help me, if it's an impossible task?" I query absentmindedly, out loud.

"It's simple Ana, if you wanted to be back in my life, after what we'd both been through, then I'd like to think that someone was helping you."

He turns his gaze back to his computer and suddenly, the printer in the corner of the room begins to churn out page after page of information.

Will, leaves his desk after a few minutes and gathers together all the freshly printed documents. He places them into a file before handing it to me. As my hand wraps around the file with itching fingers, he looks me square in the eye.

"I also want to help you, Ana... because it looks like he needs to see you. Christian Grey, has never had a friendly demeanor or approachable personality. He always seems so angry, so distant, and truthfully he..."

"He's pained and guilt ridden, Will," I interrupt, keen to defend Christian. "His personality is only to be expected, don't you think? He thinks I'm dead, he believes that he killed me and I know what that guilt is like to carry around with you." I sound sharp, but I don't mean to be.

Will nods, clearly understanding me, and The man, behind the ferocious, standoffish persona, a bit better now, and clearly sympathizing. Will suddenly stands, his posture, sure and proud.

"Then we are clearly doing the right thing." he states, urging me to stand. So he can no doubt get on. "I'll see you Monday morning, Ana. First thing." he says, taking my hand and squeezing it tenderly. I return the gesture, fighting the urge I have to hug him, and squeal excitedly.

I leave Will's, office, clutching the file close to my chest. I bid Sylvia, a silent farewell, while she's busy on the phone. I blindly, ride the elevator and step on the the busy street.

The clouds have rolled in and it's drizzling with light rain. I lift my head and close my eyes allowing the moisture to cleanse my skin and ground me.

I don't know what I hold in my hands. I don't know how it will help in my quest to get close to Christian, but I'm thankful for Will, and any help he can give me, and eager to investigate.

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