A/N: This is not a pre-explanatory a/n like last time. This is a thanks-from-the-bottom-of-my-heart a/n. You guys are awesome, and I haven't said it enough. The support you give is amazing, and it never ceases to surprise me, honestly. I had so much anxiety over that last chapter. I was a mess. But it seems I always underestimate you guys. You've been nothing but supportive from day one, and the responses from the last chapter show that you get it. You get what I'm doing here, and I love it. So thank you.
Side note: Part of what bothered me with the last couple of chapters was the layout of the timing of everything. So I will coming back soon to edit everything, to rearrange POV's so Taylor's POV comes after everything in Chapter 14. So if you come back and that's different, it is because it's really bothering me. I want it in order, so I'll likely be switching it all around soon. Nothing of the content will change, just the layout of Chapters 13 and 14.
CHRISTIAN
He was loathing the idea of having this meeting. Of having to sit across from Scott Kennedy and look him in the eye and talk business. He was excellent at covering his emotions, he had to be to be as successful a businessman as he'd become. But this wasn't simply putting on an impassive face for a jackass CEO or a egotistical lawyer. This was remaining professional in front of a child molester. In front of someone who had taken advantage of a teenager. And was still taking advantage of her. And he shouldn't truthfully be settling for impassive. Scott was his employee, and an important one. This meeting wasn't one where he was trying to overthrow him from his company, or yell at him for incompetence. It was just a quarterly review, and since GHI had been flourishing since falling under the GEH umbrella, it was going to be a very positive review. Christian, under any other circumstances, would be welcoming this man into his office, offering him a celebratory drink, and offering him congratulations on a job well done.
He didn't anticipate Ana being there. For all his apparently punishment-inducing moves to get her attention, he had inadvertently constructed a wall between himself and Ana in Scott's mind. He didn't want Ana around Christian, and so he aimed to succeed in keeping that the reality. Even if that meant keeping his own notes while his PA sat at her desk while the two men met. He hadn't brought Ana for a meeting, or sent Ana up to the top floor for anything in awhile, and Christian didn't expect that to change any time soon.
"Mr. Grey, Mr. Kennedy," Taylor announced, popping his head into the office. It took Christian a second to respond, wondering why Taylor was announcing Kennedy and not Andrea. But the thought quickly left his head when he saw Scott's face.
"What the fuck happened to you?" he couldn't stop himself from asking, the higher tilt to his tone due to the fact that he wanted to laugh, but easily disguised as simple surprise. Scott's face was decorated with a prominent bruise spanning the angle of his jaw up to his cheekbone. The skin puffed up around his left eye a little, likely hindering his vision. He looked like shit. There was nothing to be done to cover that mark until it went away on its own. Christian cut his eyes to Taylor for the briefest moment when he saw a small smirk adorning his lips.
Scott paused in the doorway and scowled at the question, probably having been asked it a million times. "I was mugged last night," he responded quickly.
Last night? His eyes shot to Taylor again, only this time they quickly diverted to his banged up hand, which was placed discretely behind his back. He met his CPO's eyes again, and it was clear as day. He wasn't even trying to cover it. He did this. Why, specifically, Christian wasn't sure, though he would venture to guess it was for many the same reason's Christian wanted to be the one to slam a first into Kennedy's face.
He caught the grin that was tugging at his cheeks and stopped it before it became full-fledged. Luckily Scott wasn't paying any attention anyway. Instead he vacated his spot at the doorway and ushered Anastasia through. The grin was wiped immediately off Christian's face. As truly happy as he was to see her, which was physically evidenced by the swell in his chest, he was also apprehensive about it. He really didn't like the idea of their first interaction since the kiss to be with Scott in the room. It made it much more awkward, and it would have been awkward no matter what.
She was well dressed as usual, if not a little casual in her plum colored pants, top, blazer, scarf and flats. It took everything in him, but he kept his eyes focused on Scott after the momentary flit to Ana when she'd walked in the door. His jaw ticked as he forced himself to keep his eyes from burning a hole in her head. Not that she would have noticed because she wasn't looking anywhere near him.
"Anastasia is here to expedite the meeting, Mr. Grey. My vision is a little blurry, so she'll be assisting me during the presentation of the happenings of last quarter, as well as taking notes."
"You don't need to explain to me why you are using your assistant to assist," Christian said dismissively, not looking at the two as he once again took a seat at his desk.
This was a tricky situation. He could not, under any circumstances, give Scott futher reason to suspect anything existed between he and Ana. Actually, this whole thing, as uncomfortable as he was with it, could prove quite useful. If he could prove his aloofness enough in regards to Ana's presence, maybe he could take some of the heat off of them, and Scott would, in turn, loosen the reins on her again. Christian grimaced at the mental image the term 'loosen the reins' brought out. All of this BDSM research was really getting to him…
He cleared his throat, effectively dismissing his own thoughts. "Please take a seat."
Scott strode across the room with his usual confidence, taking a seat directly in front of the center of Christian's desk. Despite his banged up face, he still exuded a strong, determined air. When they'd first started to do business, Christian has appreciated that Scott didn't cower or pander to him like everyone else in the world. Now, though, he wished he could say he saw even an ounce of fear instilled in the man sitting across from him. But he'd be lying if he did.
"Anastasia," Scott said firmly, causing her to finally move from the spot just inside the doorway. She took seemingly hesitant steps, coming to stand at Scott's side. He held out his hand, not uttering even a syllable. She was quick to respond, pulling out a packet of papers and setting them in his hand, then turning to Christian.
"Mr. Grey," she said, her voice soft, oddly soft, and void of emotion. Her eyes didn't meet his, instead staying on the papers in her own hands. "I've prepared a summary of the pertinent information regarding GHI from the last 3 months." She stopped to clear her throat gently, then continued. "I included a break between numbers prior to the merger, so you can see the growth we've undergone since becoming a part of Grey Enterprise Holdings, Inc. And in the end I have all the information combined, for a total overview."
Christian just nodded, taking the papers from her. He contemplated the odd tenor of her voice for another moment before forcing himself to refocus and dig into the numbers rather than truly acknowledge her behavior. It wasn't what he wanted, but any means, but he needed to build some imaginary walls to keep Scott off his trail.
They all sat in silence for a few long minutes while Christian perused the report, comparing numbers, assessing projections. He was going over the downshift in materials costs as a result of the merger and how it translated to profits for GEH, GHI, and the various materials companies, when a thrill sounded through the office.
He shot an irritated glance up at Ana, who was pulling a phone from her pocket.
"I told you to put my phone on silent, Anastasia," Scott said through gritted teeth.
"I did, Sir," she said, making Christian wince. "This is my phone. And I told Stacy to only call me if Mr. Camden called." She quickly answered the call. "Anastasia Steele." Her voice cracked slightly and she paused for a moment while listening to the other person, presumably Stacy, speak. "Yes, please put him through," she said, eyeing Kennedy briefly.
He was quick to stand up from his chair, shooting a glance at Christian. "I'm sorry, Mr. Grey. But this is the call I've been waiting for from Ron Camden. About the solar chips."
Christian nodded acceptingly. He knew the Camden deal was huge, and therefore it was important that Kennedy be available for this call. A simple quarterly review wasn't reason enough to keep him from answering the call.
He heard Ana greeting Camden politely and professionally before handing the phone over to Scott. He also watched Scott take the phone eagerly, answering with confidence. "Good morning, Mr. Camden. … Yes, sir. …Yes, we have all the numbers crunched. Whenever you're available to discuss specifics… Now, yes of course. I just need to access the files." Christian eyed Kennedy as he shot a look to Ana, wiggling his fingers like he was typing on a keyboard. Christian understood immediately. He needed into their computer system to access the information.
Pressing the intercom button, Christian summoned Andrea. "Andrea, I need you to show Mr. Kennedy to Conference Room B. Set him up on the computer in there."
"Yes, sir," the disembodied voice said.
"Thank you, Mr. Grey," Kennedy said. "I'll just be a moment, Mr. Camden. I'm getting access to everything right now." He stood gracefully from his seat. "Come, Ana," he said, motioning her toward him, and she followed obidently.
Christian's office door opened and Andrea entered. "Pencil Kennedy in again later, Andrea. I need this review by the time I meet with Simmon's this afternoon."
"Sir, your schedule is full," Andrea informed him. "You don't even have a lunch availability today."
"Fuck," Christian muttered to himself. He glanced at the sheets in front of him. Then like a thrown light switch, it came to him. "Miss Steele, you prepared this report, correct?"
"Yes, Sir,"
"Then you can give me the rundown."
Scott was quick to jump in. "Ana just compiled the report, Mr. Grey. She didn't prepare any of the data, didn't have a hand in preparing the actual numbers. She just organized it."
"I don't need her to defend the numbers, Mr. Kennedy. The numbers speak for themselves. I need someone to walk me through the rest. And that's something she would be able to do, correct?"
Reluctantly, Scott nodded.
"I don't need anything too in depth, Miss Steele. Just what you know about what you prepared here, so I can get enough of a picture for when I see Simmons. Kennedy, you and I can meet tomorrow to discuss clarifications if need be."
He watched Ana looked her lap as Christian watched Scott's features darkened in response to Christian's proposal.
Ana didn't answer him, and Scott didn't say a word, so Christian decided to snap at them, leaving little room for argument. "Well? Can you or can you not, Miss Steele? It's a very straightforward question."
He watched Kennedy's jaw clench as he almost imperceptibly nodded.
"Of course, Mr. Grey," Ana agreed as she doubled back toward his desk.
"Right this way, Mr. Kennedy," Andrea urged, as Scott just watched Ana like a hawk. Reluctantly, he moved his gaze from her to Andrea, nodding, and turned on heel and followed her out, the door clicking closed behind them.
"Please have a seat, Miss Steele," Christian said, waving his hand to the chair vacated by Kennedy. She wordlessly complied, her rear end hitting the seat no further than halfway back, her knees tightly pressed together, her back stock straight, her hands folded in her lap on top of her paperwork.
He eyed her for a long moment, but she didn't turn her gaze to his face. She remained motionless, eyes fixed on her lap as he watched her. Slowly, his fingers traced the edge of the first page of the information she'd prepared for him, deftly flipping it. His eyes didn't leave her as his voice came low and deep. "Can you explain Section 3 on page two for me, Miss Steele?"
Immediately she swiped a finger to catch page one and flip it back behind the rest. Her eyes scanned the page, and she delved into the meaning of section three, which was a descriptor of all the changes implemented to their purchasing processes since becoming a part of GEH, and what said changes meant for purchasing costs in general.
Christian listened, giving the report his undivided attention. After finishing her explanation of section 3, she jumped right into the rest of the report. She had clearly spent a lot of time accumulating all of this information and compiling it in a no-nonsense way. He wanted, and needed, to know this information, and the way Ana was presenting it was so clear and concise that he was able to put their personal relationship on hold in order to give her the stage to present all of this to him. He was impressed. She had a high school education and wanted to go into publishing, but he couldn't help but imagine her as a formidable ally in the business world. Give her a collegiate background and he had a feeling she would fare well in upper management, if this was what she could produce as a PA.
After they plowed through the report, both of them simultaneously flipped back to the first pages of their packets. "Thank you, Miss Steele. I really appreciate you sticking around to go over this with me. You did an impressive job."
"Thank you, Mr. Grey," her rather monotonous voice replied, softly. "Will that be all?" Against her voice broke, and in turn, so did he.
"Are you sick, Ana? Do you have a cold? Your voice sounds…"
He let the words hang in the air, and, surprisingly, her eyes finally left the paper in front of her. "No, I'm well," she said softly. He felt the thrill of excitement as her gaze met his for the first time since stepping foot in his office, but it was short lived, because even now that she was, she was giving nothing away. Actually, it was what wasn't there in her eyes that had him confused. They weren't simply impassive, they were lifeless. She looked completely hollow. The emptiness in her eyes was heart wrenching for him. Something was wrong. It wasn't illness. And it was something more than just the awkwardness between them, more than her usual hesitance and apprehension. If he could venture a guess, he'd say the emptiness in her wasn't even about him, but about her. And that upset him on a visceral level.
He fought the urge to glance at the clock, knowing they'd been in here a while. He didn't know how long Kennedy would be, but enough time had passed that it would be reasonable for him to come walking back in that door at any moment. He could have very little time left, and he didn't want to miss the opportunity to speak to her, but he also didn't want to do anything to put her in further jeopardy. He would have been willing to let her walk out without acknowledging the elephant in the room, had it not been the the look in her eyes. He'd probably seen every emotion under the sun in those eyes, but this lack of anything, this shallowness to her was easily the most upsetting. And he couldn't let her walk away from him without trying to figure out what was wrong with her, to see if there was something he could do to fix it. But what could he say?
"I think Taylor is the one who punched Kennedy."
Both of their eyes went wide simultaneously. Holy shit. Of all the things... Why the fuck had he said that?
"Taylor mugged Scott?" she asked, her voice the loudest he'd heard it, cracking at the high pitch.
"No,no no. I don't think so, anyway. I highly doubt… He wouldn't have mugged him. He just… punched him," Christian said with a wince like it was okay as long as he didn't actually mug him.
"Why?" Ana asked, thoroughly confused. "Why would he punch him?"
Oh shit.
Christian's lips tightened in a line. Fuck. He looked up at her, and he was sure the guilt might as well have been written in bright red marker across his face.
Ana let out a sound like she'd just been punched in the gut. "You told him." It wasn't a question. He knew. She knew. They both knew the answer.
"I'm sorry," Christian said, shaking his head.
"You're sorry?" she shrieked, her hand immediately grabbing at her throat as she shot up from her chair. She was radiating fury. Was this better than the emptiness from before? He thought he wasn't sure, for a moment, but then he knew that yes, even this was better than seeing her… dead inside.
"He won't tell anyone," Christian tried to placate, standing up himself and moving around the side of his desk. "He… I was at a loss, and I needed someone trustworthy to confide in. Someone who could help me figure out what I needed to do to help you. Scott is dangerous, Ana. He's got a hold on you that you can't see, and I'm afraid for you. I only want to help you," he rambled off quickly, eager to explain away the fact that he'd broken her trust but meant no harm by it. She was standing about ten feet away, her arms wrapped tightly around her torso, her head so far down her chin was practically on her chest.
He watched her, waiting for her to continue to explode on him, but when it didn't immediately come, he stepped closer. "Ana…"
He watched her body start to shake, tremor, and he closed the gap further. Her breathing increased, her chest expanding and deflating at a progressively faster pace. Quick, shallow drags of air that became louder and harsher. Holy shit, she was starting to hyperventilate. He'd sent her into a panic.
"Ana! Ana, Ana, Ana," he muttered, stepping closer to her, putting his hands on her elbows. She didn't even flinch, and he was becoming more and more concerned as the moments ticked by. "Calm down, Ana. Please," he said, his grip tightening. Before he realized what he was doing, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her tightly to him in some subconscious plan to be the strength and calm she needed in this moment. He pressed her to his chest and she didn't fight him, so he wrapped one arm around her back, holding her securely, and used the other to tightening in her hair. When her breathing slowed a little, he tugged, pulling her head back so her face was pointed at him. Tears leaked passed her closed eyelids and cascaded down her cheeks, dripping down to her jaw before gathering enough weight to drip down off and onto his white dress shirt.
"Look at me," he urged. Her eyes blinked open, her long, dark eyelashes stuck together in places where they'd been wetted by her tears. Her blue eyes were cloudy with anguish.
"I don't know who I am anymore," she whispered. His heart seized in a painful stranglehold.
"Oh Ana," he sighed out, pained. He pressed his forehead to hers, and they stayed like that, him holding onto her as if their lives depended on it. Slowly he felt her rigid body relax into his, and when it caused his grip to loosen, he only held on tighter.
ANA
"Look at me," he urged. Her eyes blinked open, her long, dark eyelashes stuck together in places where they'd been wetted by her tears. Her blue eyes were cloudy with anguish.
"I don't know who I am anymore," she whispered. She was so lost.
"Oh Ana," he sighed. He pressed his forehead to hers, and as much as she knew she shouldn't, she let him. It was too hard to fight the instant spread of comfort he provided when she was wrapped in his arms. She couldn't explain what it was about him, but whatever it was, she was too weak to resist it when she was at the lowest point she in her life since she was fifteen. So instead of pushing away from him like she knew in her brains he should, she relaxed into him.
She desperately needed just a few moments to shut off her mind. And when Christian wrapped her up more tightly in his embrace, she was finally able to find those moments of peace for herself. For just a minute, she needed to release this mental anguish, this inner turmoil she'd been living in since last night.
"Talk to me, Ana," he urged, pulling his head back enough to look her in the eyes. "Let me help you."
He was so genuine, so completely and totally sincere that it made her ache inside. He was a good man who truly did seem to care about her and her wellbeing. Why, she had no idea. What had him so invested in her, a nobody with a confusing and unappealing past? Was it just sympathy? Did he just feel sorry for her? Was she garnering his attention due to some white knight complex? Before he came around, she didn't even think she needed to be saved. Even now, as confused as she was, she was sure that whatever Christian saw in her, whatever it was that had him so focused on her, she wasn't what he thought she was. He could never find something redeeming about continuing any time of relationship with her, romantic, friendly or otherwise. She brought nothing to the table for someone who was… everything, like he was.
Shaking her head at herself and her ability to appear so weak, she lifted her head from Christian's chest and attempted to put a few inches between them. His grip didn't really loosen, however, so it wasn't very much space.
He was standing directly in front of her, looking down at her, his eyes boring into hers, searching, begging. He watched a tear cascade down her cheek, down the path she felt it make until it reached her lips. His thumb moved up, tracing her lip gently on the bottom edge, then tenderly held her chin. His eyes hit hers again, then back to her mouth, and slowly he began the descent of his lips to hers. But before he could get there, she yanked her head sharply back and to the side, denying him, closing her eyes as she felt his breath on her skin.
She felt his hand move from her face, and she couldn't face looking him in the eye again, not wanting to see him disappointed or sad or embarrassed, or any of emotions he might be displaying right now.
"Ana," his voice came out thick and painful. No. She refused to look at him. "Ana…" he said more urgently, and more desperately.
That was when she felt his fingers on her scarf, pulling it down to further expose what she'd inadvertently partially exposed of her neck while turning her head away. She tried to pull back from his searching fingers, but it was too late. She felt his thumb tracing her neck, where the bruises were. She shook her head rapidly back and forth. Stupid, stupid stupid. She grabbed the scarf, fluffing it back up to hide her marks from him eyes once more.
"What did he do to you?" he asked, so utterly sad.
What did he do? Scott had taken full advantage of his chance to explore her previously hard limit. And she'd been living in a perpetual state of emptiness ever since. It hadn't quite terrified her the way she expected. Well, it had, but it also terrified her in a whole new way. Not just the physical act, but the psychological implication of it.
The choking itself had been as she had always suspected it would be- terrifying. She'd thought she could handle it, she'd thought that for him, she could handle anything. She was so stupid. There was a reason it had always been a hard limit. It was something she couldn't handle. And last night had just confirmed that to her. She'd made this decision on a whim while she was mentally overwrought and she was paying the price for making such a big decision on an impulse.
She'd been nervous when it had started. Not necessarily scared, but very nervous. Scott had told her to fight him, but she'd had a hard time relaxing enough to really do that. She'd done it before, but never with the idea of breath play looming. As a submissive she'd learned how to shut out everything else and focus on the now. So though she did try to utilize those skills and remove herself from everything else and just be in the moment, it had proven more difficult than she'd anticipated.
Scott was extra aggressive. He made a show out of attacking her from behind, dragging her to the bed. Kick. Scream, Ana. Fight me. He demanded her to do more, and she knew she wasn't giving him what he wanted out of this, but she just couldn't help it. She tried, though, to do better, kept trying to reestablish that genuine feeling of roleplay.
Once he succeeded in securing her arms and legs to the bed, he'd forced an orgasm upon her, her body responding to him the way it had been taught, through her mind was far from the place it usually was during sex. Every moment seemed to drag out in torturous anticipation of the moment. Normally forced orgasm didn't feel like punishments until she'd already come multiple times. But she was sure this orgasm was a punishment due to the fact that he was angry at her for her lack of performance, blaming her that he needed to stop and instruct her how to act while they were in a scene like this, since he'd already broken character multiple times to correct her. It came with very harsh hits to her bare skin and though he said she was, she knew she wasn't wet at all. There was no way this orgasm was for pleasure.
Then he immediately proceeded to choke her with his fingers, then with his cock. Everything was rough, and it only heightened her fear for what what to come. His hand on her throat while he was fucking her mouth had her so preoccupied. It was not that tight, and most of the pressure he was putting on her was on the sides of her neck, with his fingers, not on her throat. She was dangling on just this side of okay, when suddenly he withdrew from her mouth completely. She'd had no time to think, no time to prepare before he was on the bed, between her spread thighs and slamming full force into her.
And it was then that she felt his palm splay flush against her throat and his grip tighten. She hadn't expected it- the impalement of his body into her, or the escalation of the choking, let alone for them to occur in one quick onslaught. She instinctively yanked her hands, trying to bring them to her throat to pry off his hands, but was met with the harsh bite of the rope around her wrists.
She felt her eyes well up with tears as she attempted to jerk her head back and away from his hand, but she didn't succeed in putting any space between them. Her body came alive with what she could only describe as her fight or flight reflexes, and she thrashed underneath him, twisting and turning what little her restraints allowed, but it was all to no avail. She could see his eyes light up as he watched her squirm underneath him, his mouth spreading into a widening grin as her continued to pummel into her at a punishing rhythm.
Her lips were parted, disjointed gasps escaping them as she whimpered like a frightened animal. Every dozen seconds or so, there would be a slight recoil of his palm from her throat, alleviating the pressure and allowing her to grunt in higher amounts of air to her lungs. Her breathing increased harsher and faster, and she started to feel the effects of her diminished oxygen levels and hindered blood flow. Her head battled between being slightly swimmy followed by short bursts of clarity.
Her body continued to strain against her bonds. She was wet for her first orgasm, coupled with her own saliva, but she was not turned on. She was as far away from an orgasm as she'd ever been, her focus so completely set on Scott's hand that she barely felt how roughly he was taking her.
Her chin moved down trying involuntarily to protect her open neck, but Scott just reached up with his free hand, took a fist full of her hair and yanked her head back to keep her open. His body, no longer supported on his arm, rested on top of her, compressing her chest and making her feel further trapped. He seemed to make up for the lack of leverage by simply tightening his the grips of his hands, and she found herself completely consumed by him. He was everywhere, all over her, all of his weight on her, every inch of his length deeply fucking her, his hands controlling her head and neck in an extremely domineering way.
Her mouth was slack, desperately pulling in air every backthrust that jarred his hand away and allowed her small intakes of hair. She could hear the noises she was emitting but they didn't even sound like her, she felt so disconnected from herself.
She fluctuated between eyes open and eyes closed, not knowing which was worse. Her body was in full blown panic and she didn't know how much longer she could take it. This was the worst thing she'd ever experienced. His mouth was pressed against her, working the skin of her shoulder between her arm and her neck. Again, she pulled at her restraints, arm and legs, tugging but not gaining any breadth. That's it. Just like that. Her whole body braced itself, her muscles seizing tightly. You fucking slut. You like this don't you? Her back arched, her whole body desperate for an escape from this, but not as desperate as her mind. You're getting so tight. Are you going to come for me you little whore? His hand tightened impossibly further, cutting off that last remaining passageway for air, and she finally felt it all become too much.
Her body went slack, and everything went black.
But it must have only been seconds, because when she came back around, Scott was still on top of her, guttural moans escaping him, his previously relentless hips just grinding deeply inside of her until he finally stilled. His face was still buried against her shoulder as it had been, his teeth sinking into her flesh, alternating between sucking kisses and tender bites.
It felt like a tortuously long time until, while she listened to him take in deep, full breaths, before he finally loosened his grip around her throat. He lifted his head from it's spot on her shoulder, looking down into her eyes as he slowly uncurled his long fingers and she felt the full rush of oxygen and blood to her head. Her eyes flitted closed, her head stretching back as she tried not to take too deep of breaths, that only seemed to make her feel more disoriented. Her throat felt like it was on fire, her skull pounded the rhythm of her racing heart beat.
"That was amazing, Ana," he whispered, placing a tender kiss to her throat, which made her flinch. "Relax baby," he whispered, rubbing her shoulders, down to her arms in a calming manner, "That was a really intense orgasm. Just relax. Let your body come down."
She cringed internally. He'd thought her body's reaction to passing out, her body going from taught to relaxed, had been due to an orgasm release. She wasn't sure which was worse- him being so out of tune with her that he thought she was enjoying it enough to reach orgasm, or the thought that maybe he did realize how she was feeling and had kept going anyway. Both options seemed to gut her. Because one would have meant his total disregard for her, and the other told her that this man, who she'd dedicated her life to, really didn't know her at all. That thought gave her such a deeply hollow feeling that she wasn't sure she would ever be the same inside again. Last night had changed her. Everything that had happened over the last few months had propelled her toward this, but last night was more than everything else combined.
Not only had she allowed this to happen, allowed him to do something to her that scared her, but he'd done it, and he hadn't seen how it terrifying it was for her. That scared her. She spent years thinking that she knew Scott and he knew her, inside and out. She trusted him implicitly, and now that was all starting to crumble around her. What did that mean for them, if she could no longer trust him? She'd curled up on the couch last night, not wanting to be near her bed, and she'd asked herself over and over why she hadn't safeworded. But the best she could come up with was that she was so panicked, so completely consumed with her fear that she hadn't the presence of mind to even consider it. So what did that say about her? She couldn't even trust herself to save her. And if she couldn't trust Scott, and she couldn't trust herself, how could she continue on in this lifestyle? And if she didn't have this, what did she have?
And, to top it all off, what in the world was she doing with Christian? Here she was, standing in his office, having been wrapped in his arms and crying on his shoulder the day after she gave up a hard limit strictly to prove a point to herself about loyalty. It was ridiculous, and obviously all for nothing when hours later she was back to acting inappropriately with the man she was trying to make penance for.
She felt his fingers, which were on the rounds of her shoulders, tighten a little. "Ana, what did he do to you?" he asked, more forcefully this tone less sad and more angry.
"Nothing I didn't ask him to," she said, guiltily, rather than defensively. Because it was true, no matter how much she wished it wasn't.
"You asked him to- Ana, I can see the clear handprint."
"I know," she cried softly, hot tears falling all over again. She'd stared at that handprint in the mirror this morning for a solid twenty minutes as she wavered between a mind of blank thoughts and manic ones. Finally she'd pulled herself away, robotically going to her closet and picking out an outfit. She couldn't risk a skirt because of the rope marks on her thighs, so she had to wear pants. She needed long sleeves because of the marks on her wrists. And she needed a scarf to cover her neck.
"How did this happen? Why- how-" he let out a little sigh and she knew it was because he didn't even know what the right question was to ask. Because he knew she was into things he already didn't understand. Things she thought were completely normal were foreign to him. So he was trying to figure out where this fell in the spectrum of what she did. But she was sure her demeanor was what screamed to him that this wasn't some ordinary weird-kinky-sex thing that she regularly partook in. This was something else entirely.
"I sacrificed something I shouldn't have. I allowed for this to happen, but I did it for the wrong reasons. And now I- I don't-," she shook her head. And now, she didn't know who or what she was anymore. Now, she felt more lost than she'd ever been in her life.
"You need to get out," he whispered.
"I can't," she urged. "This is my whole life, Christian."
"It doesn't have to be. You're twenty-two. You can start over."
"You don't understand," she dismissed.
"Maybe not," he conceded, "But I can help you if you'll just let me. I promise, Ana. You just have to let me in."
Finally he released her from his arms, reach to his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. He opened it, and she felt the heat rise up her back and spread across her neck into her hairline. If he pulled out cash and handed it to her- But instead of money, he pulled out a card. He held it out and she took it, tracing the edges as she read the bold black text.
John Flynn, MD
Board Certified Psychiatrist
(206) 555-0402
She felt her heart rate pick up. A psychiatrist?
"I'm not crazy," she whispered, her throat thick with emotion.
"Of course not, Ana," he said calmly. "He's just someone who can help. He helped me."
She looked up at him curiously, and he gave her a little half shrug and a smile. "I told you, I've never been perfect."
Slowly, she nodded, leaning down to tuck the card between the back of her iPad and it's case.
"Why don't you head back downstairs? Take a couple of minutes to pull yourself together so no one suspects you were in here crying. When Kennedy comes back, I'll tell him we were finished and you went back to your desk."
She took in a deep, stilted breath and nodded. Gathering her things, she checked the placement of her scarf once again as she traversed Christian's large office toward the door. When she reached out for the handle, she paused, looking back over her shoulder to see him back behind his desk.
"Thanks, Christian," she said, her voice not much more than a whisper, even more irritated now from all the crying than it had been before this meeting started. But still, he heard her.
"Any time."
And she knew he meant it.