CHRISTIAN

Christian sat in his study, two fingers of whiskey in the chilled glass to his left. He had just ended an hour and a half long conference with Singapore about fifteen minutes ago, and though his normal routine was to dissect the meeting immediately following its completion, he found his mind couldn't stop wandering to Ana.

It was just after midnight in Seattle and he wondered where she was, what she was doing. Was she safely ensconced in her apartment? Alone? Or was he there with her? And if he was, what was he doing? Christian had had Welch pull up as much credible information as he could on BSDM. The last thing he'd wanted to do was trust the internet to give him wholly reliable information, and he didn't want to be misinformed about it either. He wanted to understand what it was Ana was doing, why it appealed to her. But after reading through what Welch had given him, he wasn't convinced that what Ana was doing was the legitimate practice of the lifestyle. All the information he read was adamant about informed consent, and that wasn't something Ana had been able to give when Kennedy dragged her down this path.

The amount of texts and emails that had gone unanswered was growing, but Christian wasn't deterred. He wasn't going to force Ana to talk to him. He just wanted to build her trust, prove to her that his intentions were good, and have her come to him willingly. And for that to happen, he needed to be patient. She'd already told him more about her life than she'd ever told anyone before, except Kennedy, obviously. She had to have some level of trust in him to confide in him, even if she didn't realize it yet. Eventually she would come around and contact him again, he just knew it. And he would be there with empathy and understanding when she did. He'd pushed a lot lately. He wanted to give her some time to think over everything he'd brought up so far before pushing any more. If he pushed too much, he was worried it would have the opposite effect, and end up making her shut down on him completely.

But in the meantime, he was finding it a daily struggle not to go down to the twelfth floor and punch Kennedy in the fucking jaw. Luckily he didn't need to see the guy on a daily basis, or he was sure he would have snapped on him by now. But the whole reason Christian had wanted his company to begin with was because he already approved of what they were doing. He'd wanted Kennedy on board so he didn't really have to think about GHI. It would just be another asset to GEH, chugging along every day, making him money and building GEH's ability to grow in the green tech markets.

His phone rang from its position at the edge of his desk. He glanced at the clock, wondering who was calling so late. His heart leapt in his chest when he saw the caller ID.

"Ana?" he answered immediately, standing up at his desk, too filled with adrenaline to sit down.

"Hello, Mr. Grey," she said, though it was hard to hear her. What was all that noise in the background?

"Ana where are you?"

"In line for the bathroom," she said simply.

"In line for the bathroom where?" he asked.

"A bar. That's right! I went out. Like you said I never do. So there!" she huffed, then let out a giggle that would have made his dick twitch if it wasn't for the fact that he was concerned about her right now. She sounded off. Was she drunk?

"Are you drunk?"

"I don't know, I've never been drunk before. But if I had to guess, I'd say I'm tipsy. Why do you think they call it tipsy? Is it because you feel like you're going to tip over? Because that makes a lot of sense. I feel like I could tipsy over right now," she said, that damn giggle emanating through the phone again. If he wasn't so concerned, he'd find it fucking adorable. In what limited time he'd known her, he barely got to see Ana smile, let alone hear her laugh. He wished he could hear her laugh often; he wished he could be the one responsible for making her laugh every damn day. But now was not the time to focus on that, he scolded himself.

"Ana, is Kennedy there with you?"

She groaned at that. "No. We don't go out together. And he has no idea I'm out. Ugh, if he finds out, I bet you my car that I won't be able to sit without cringing for a week. Do you have any idea what that man can do with a cane?"

Christian felt his stomach roil at the mental image of Ana bent over while Kennedy thwacked her ass with a cane. God, why anyone would let someone do that kind of stuff to them was completely mind boggling to him.

"Did you drive yourself there?"

"What?" he heard her say muffled. "Oh sorry. Hey Christian? Or… Mr. Grey. Mr. Christian Grey," she rambled, giggling, "I gotta go. It's my turn for the bathroom."

"Ana!—" he tried, but she'd already hung up on him. He tried calling her back, but it just rang a few times before flipping over to voicemail.

Finding Welch's name in his contacts, he pressed the phone icon to place the call which was immediately answered. "I need you to trace the phone that Taylor had you set up anonymously. I need a location on it."

"Yes, sir. I'll forward the information to you in a few minutes," Welch replied.

Disconnecting the call, Christian went to his bedroom to change into some casual clothes. On his way back down the hallway, he stopped at the security suite to get the keys to the R8. When he knocked on the door, Taylor was already pulling it open, obviously having seen him coming on the monitors.

"Sir, is there somewhere you would like me to take you?" he asked.

"No, thank you, Taylor. I have discovered Miss Steele is intoxicated and alone at a bar. Welch is sending me the location information on her phone, and I'm just going to pick her up and make sure she gets home safe."

"You'll call me immediately if any more serious situations arise?" Taylor asked.

"Of course," Christian confirmed, grabbing the key fob and nodding his goodbye to his PPO.

By the time he'd stepped off the elevator into the parking garage, Welch had sent him the location associated with Ana's phone. Plugging it into his GPS, he quickly weaved through the minimal late night Seattle traffic, reaching his destination in about fifteen minutes.

It was a small bar only a couple of blocks from where Ana lived, but it was pretty crowded, obviously geared for a younger crowd. He gained access quickly, flashing his ID to the security guy at the door. As soon as he was inside, he scanned the room, finding Ana almost immediately. She was across the room, leaning over the bar, talking to the bartender. He was smiling at her, a more-than-just-friendly smile which made Christian's eyes narrow in irritation.

She was dressed in jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt, completely casual compared to all the other girls here decked out like they thought it was New Year's Eve or something. But at the same time, those jeans were practically painted on, and the way her ass looked at she bent over the bar ledge was garnering a fair share of the male attention. There was something very appealing about her just natural and easy-going rather than uptight and high maintenance like the rest of the women here. She was simply and easily beautiful even when she was outfitted comparably plain to the competition.

Traversing the relatively small space, he came up behind her, placing his hand gently on her elbow to let get her attention. She snapped her head to the side, looking at him, registering his identity with shock on her face. "Mr. Grey!" she squeaked, pulling back from the bar and turning to face him.

"Christian," he said, "Please, for the love of God stop with the Mr. Grey, Ana," he said with a small smile on his face to let her know he wasn't actually upset.

"Christian," she drew out, taking the drink the bartender finally handed her, the glare he shot Christian's way going unnoticed by her but not by Christian. She had a playful smile on her lips, one he hadn't been seen before and felt like a lucky man for being able to be witness to it now.

"A water, please," Christian requested, which the bartender slowly and begrudgingly gave him.

"You're not going to drink with me?" Ana asked with a pout before biting her lip to hold back her smirk.

"It's for you," he said, holding the glass out to her, taking the alcoholic drink from which she'd only had a sip, and sliding it back across the bar.

"Hey!" she yelled, reaching for it, but he just pushed the water toward her.

"Please drink it, Ana," he said. "You need it. It'll help with the hangover tomorrow." When she didn't move to take the glass, he fell on a habit that usually got results and decided to use his CEO voice on her. "Drink it. Now."

And just like that, she grabbed the glass and chugged the contents down in a half dozen gulps.

"Let's get out of here," he said, looking around, knowing it was only a matter of time before he would be noticed for being, well, him, here. That in itself he didn't really care about, but if they snapped pictures of him and Ana together, and somehow Scott found out she was here, he didn't want it to lead to punishment for Ana.

"No," she whined. "No one asked you to come here, let alone come here and force me to leave. I want to stay."

"Please, Ana," he asked, looking around, noticing a few glances his way. Shit.

"I don't want to," she pouted like a petulant teenager. He was losing his patience. This was for her own benefit, not his. Surely she didn't want to get caught being out in public, drunk, with him. He saw one of the girls who he'd caught glanced at him a couple of time now pull her phone out of her purse and hold it up in his direction. He didn't know for sure that it was to take a picture of him, but he reacted on instinct and quickly he turned his back, shielding Ana from view.

"Ana, we are going. Now," he demanded.

With a hand on her elbow, he directed her away from the bar, and surprisingly, this time she came with no fight, verbal or otherwise. He took advantage and led her straight outside, where the crisp night air seemed to perk her up a bit, edging away her amiability and bringing out her defiance once again. Because as soon as he stepped up to his car, she halted in her steps, shaking her head no at his request to get inside.

"Please get in the car, Anastasia. I want to make sure you get home safe."

"I can just walk. It's only a couple of blocks. That's how I got here in the first place."

"But you had been sober then. And it's later now. And I'm here, offering you a ride. So please," he said, motioning toward the open door once again.

She pursed her lips in this adorable little pout, then said, "What if I don't? What would you do if I turned on my heel and walked away right now?"

"Anastasia," he warned, managing to maintain his stern façade even though inside his libido was humming due to the look she was giving him. He would give almost anything to give in to her flirting right now, anything to grab her and kiss and show her exactly what he wanted to do to her. But she was drunk, and he would not, under any circumstances, take advantage of that. She'd been taken advantage of enough in her life. If and when something could finally happen between them, it would be when he knew she was completely present, wanting and willing.

"Would you punish me?" she goaded, looking up at him through her eyelashes, her big doe eyes innocent while her question was anything but. But that particular comment had a negative effect on him. He certainly did not want to punish her. The mere idea of it made him mad. Her saying it just reinforced the idea that she had rules to follow, and if she went against Kennedy, she was punished for it. It was nothing to her, which she proved by joking about it. But it infuriated Christian to think about Kennedy forcing her to bend to his will with the threat of punishment. Again, he found himself wishing he could punch the fucker in the face.

But he managed to suppress his true reaction, to suppress his temper and to stop himself from going off on this tangent out loud. He'd done too much of that lately- losing his cool, resulting in tirades that came across as him scolding and criticizing her, even though she wasn't what he was mad at. "Car. Now," he said through clenched teeth. This time, mercifully, she listened.

"Yes, sir," she said, listening immediately and sliding into the passenger seat. And he was still fuming to himself while she did. He wasn't Kennedy, and he certainly wouldn't ever punish Ana for anything, let alone something that, at the end of the day, was trivial. She had the right to refuse to get in his car. But he didn't want her to. He wanted her to trust him, to let him take care of her.

He closed the passenger door and felt his anger deflate as soon she was safely ensconced in his car. His mind shifted from thoughts of Kennedy back to thoughts of her and he rounded the back to the driver's side. He didn't like that fact that she put herself in this situation- getting drunk out somewhere alone, where anything could happen to her, where anyone could take advantage of her. It was dangerous he didn't want any harm to come to her. She was so damn naive.

He smiled to himself a little, thinking about how sweet and kind of funny she'd come across while she was drunk. He hadn't been able to see her like this before, flirty and joking. He wanted to enjoy her uninhibited and in a good mood, not closed off and defensive against him like she usually was. God, he was just so drawn to her. He wasn't sure why, what exactly it was about her, but he felt this pull to her, and it was like nothing he'd ever felt for a woman before.

He opened his door, sliding into his seat, lost in thoughts about her as he started the engine and eased his way out of his parking space in front of the bar.

"This is a really nice car," she said once the car started to move.

"Thanks," he grinned cheekily at her. "She's the most special lady in my life."

Ana snorted out a laugh and he chuckled in return.

ANA

They were both silent for a minute, the only noises those of the occasional passing car, the click of the turn signal, the soft sound of Christian's hands as the leather steering wheel slid across his palms whenever it when back to place after making a turn. She'd gone out tonight to... prove something, or something... She had done it under some stupid sense of needing to prove that she could go out and do whatever she wanted to. Between Christian's recent and seemingly constant digs at her over how she lived her life under Scott's rules, and then Scott shutting down her idea of going back to school earlier this evening... she'd just felt this impulse that she couldn't explain that had told her to go out and do something on her own without telling Scott about it. That had somehow apparently translated to her ending up drinking in a bar. She still wasn't sure why she'd called Christian, and she certainly hadn't expected him to show up. And yet, here she was, in his car with him.

Her apartment wasn't far, so she knew she only had a few minutes left with him before they got there. The alcohol had definitely emboldened her, and she found herself wanting to make the most of the little time they had left together. There were words she'd been dying to ask him dancing on the tip of her tongue. And this was the perfect opportunity for her to ask him the question she'd had on her mind. It was a perfect storm of alcohol-induced poor-decision-making and limited-time-frame with quickly-approaching-easy-escape that pushed her to go through with it.

"Can I ask you something inappropriate? Like- wildly inappropriate so that I can blame it on having too much to drink?"

He gave her a sideways smirk, then nodded before looking back at the road. "Shoot."

"What's wrong with you?"

His eyebrow arched in question. "I don't know what you mean…"

"I just mean… It's ridiculous, you know? Look at you! You have everything. You're not just smart, you're extremely intelligent, insightful, and shrewd. And your company wasn't just handed to you, you put your blood, sweat and tears into it to build it from the ground up. And you're not just successful, not just a millionaire, you're a multi-billionaire. But of course you don't just sit on your piles of money, you're philanthropic and give it away hand over fist to countless amazing charities. Anonymously. You're not an asshole, which you could be and people would still flock to stand in your wake. But no, you have an amazing heart. You're sweet, kind, generous to a fault, and so goddamn charming. So at the very least, you should be ugly. But you're not. And you're not just attractive, you're unbearably handsome, literally the most gorgeous man I've ever seen, in real life, on TV or in magazines. So what is it, huh? What's Christian Grey's flaw? Do you have a small dick or something? Because seriously, something has to be wrong with you. People like you don't just exist. You can't have it all. It's not fair to the rest of us," she huffed.

"Well, I can't cook to save my life," he led after a beat with a half shrug and an unapologetic smile. Ana rolled her eyes in a humorous way. So he couldn't cook. So what? He probably had a Michelin star chef who waited around his home all day to cook him tiny little pretentious meals covered in foam or whatever the hell rich people ate. She was about to say as much when she saw a shadow cross his face and his smirk drop.

Again his eyes found her quickly, his lips turning up at the corners in a sad smile. He let out a little sigh before speaking. "But seriously, I get the look from the outside. It's easy to assume I have it all when you look at my life. When I was younger, that idea was the exact reason I aspired to be everything I became. I had a rough start to life. I knew what it was like to be cold and hungry, hurt and alone. I always knew that if I worked hard enough, I could be successful. I could build something successful and make a ton of money and buy heat and food. I just knew I would be happy, because I thought I could buy happiness. For a while, I did think I had it all. I was successful. I wanted for nothing; there was nothing I couldn't afford to buy. I had lots of friends, I had lots of women. It felt like I had it all. Everyone thinks I have it all.

"But it's hard to meet someone genuine, when you live a life like mine. A lot of women are in it for because if my name, not who I am. They see the money and they see a payday. It's hard to find someone I can trust, to find someone I think actually likes me for who I am. I've been burned before, thinking I knew a woman, knew friends who turned out to be using me, or just two-faced. It's happened so many times that I have a hard time trusting anyone anymore."

He paused speaking for a moment, and it was only then that Ana realized they'd pulled into her apartment parking lot. As soon as he shifted the car into park, he turned to look her dead in the eyes, his face serious. And sad. "But I don't have it all. I'm lonely. Because at the end of the day, when I leave my super successful office, while my family and friends go home to their loved ones, I drive my nice cars back to my fancy home and I crawl into bed alone. Sure, occasionally there's a warm body to accompany me, but never anyone I care about. And in the middle of the night, it's glaringly obvious how empty my life is. And I'm sick of being alone. I want someone to share it all with. I want love. So, though I'm not sorry to say it's not my dick size that is my downfall, you are right, there is something about me that's not perfect: I'm agonizingly lonely."

"Shit," she whispered, the moment very sobering, her system feeling suddenly flushed of any remaining alcohol. She looked at him intently, like she was really seeing him for the first time. And in a way, she was. She was seeing this side of him for the first time. And it was so raw and real that it spoke to her on a deep level. She got it. She understood what loneliness could do to you on the inside. She'd been there once. Maybe she still was. She turned her body to face him, subconsciously mirroring his posture. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about," he said with that same sad smile, leaning his head back against his headrest and tilting his head back, his eyes shutting. "I'm mostly used to it by now. Some days it's crippling, but some days I don't even feel it."

His head shook back and forth slowly as he kept speaking from the heart. Under the parking lot lights she could see his cheeks darken a shade and he looked almost embarrassed. "Up until now, I hadn't found anyone who made my heart beat faster or my palms sweaty or made butterflies flit around in my stomach. I started to think that was all fairy tale bullshit, that it didn't happen in real life. But you, you do those things for me. And that's why I've been so adamant about pursuing you. There's just something about you. I just want to get to know you better. You're beautiful, but also passionate and genuine and—I—" But he didn't get to finish his sentence as he was cut off by her lips latching onto his fiercely. She didn't make the conscious decision to climb into his lap and attack his lips with her own, but that was where she'd currently found herself—astride Christian Grey in the driver's seat of his Audi R8.

He reacted immediately, kissing her back roughly. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced. The feeling of his hands in her hair, on her face… hers wrapped around his neck, their tongues battling for space. She'd never been kissed like this by Scott. Nothing like this.

His hands descended slowly down her spine before hooking around her torso, his palms on her hips as his fingertips dug into her waist. He tugged her down onto him at the same time his hips lifted ever-so-slightly to press between her thighs, forcing a moan from the back of her throat. Nope. Nothing small about that. She felt the shock through her pelvis, the sheer pleasure radiating through her, but rather than further turning her on, it was like a bucket of ice water down her back. She immediately realized what she was doing and hastily pulled away.

"Oh my God," she said, panic clear across her face and in her voice. "I can't believe we- I just did that. I have to go," she said desperately, pushing away from him, tugging frantically at the car's door handle.

"But—"

"No. No but. I have to go. This was a huge mistake." She pushed the door open with such force it bounced back on its hinges a little bit as she yanked her purse up off the passenger side floor and scrambled off of his lap and out into the parking lot. She was wiping at her lips, as if she could wipe away the invisible evidence of their kiss. She kissed him. She kissed him. She'd never initiated a kiss before, not even with Scott. But she'd been the one to pounce on Christian. It was her fault.

She didn't look back, didn't answer him as he called out to her in shock from the seat of his car, door still ajar. She just scrambled into her building, into her apartment, where she shut the door and locked it before sliding down onto the floor in defeat.