Chapter 4

Christian PoV

I drove to Flynn's office on a high. I was happier than I'd ever been, just from having an informal conversation with Anastasia through text messages. As I waited for his previous appointment to finish, I re-read through our conversation. She didn't think very highly of herself, which seemed odd to me. Not only was she drop dead gorgeous, but she was the CEO of a major company at the age of 26. Apart from myself, not many could claim that. Her sister and brother were two of the most coveted designers in the industry.

Dr. Flynn's office was sparse, but well decorated. The chairs in the waiting room were a dark-blue suede that invited you into them. They were very comfortable, like sitting on a cloud, I imagined. His receptionist, Amanda, I thought, greeted me and told me the good doctor would be only a few more minutes. I nodded curtly at her, refused her offer for a beverage and sat on one of the cloud-like chairs.

Anastasia. Her name wrapped around me like a caress. It filled me where I had been empty, and left me longing for more. Just picturing her face in my thoughts brightened my mood. Even people in my office that day had noticed a change in my demeanor. Could one woman change my mood by merely popping into my thoughts?

"You seem in higher spirits," Dr. Flynn said as I sat down on the couch near his wingback chair. "Something's changed. Is there a new woman?"

"Yes and no," I replied. "Not a new sub. At least not yet. This woman is different though. She makes me feel different. Different than any of the other women I've been with. I find myself wanting to spend time with her other than just in my playroom. She already knows my family and I've asked her on a date."

"Oh! A date? That's a first, right?" he asked. His tone was curious; he knew I'd never taken a woman out on a date before.

"Yes, it is a first. I've done many firsts already in regards to her. Though I wonder if she might be as damaged as I am." My mind flickers back to the memory of me touching her wrist when she left that evening. She snatched her hand back so fast, it was like I'd burned her. The short glimpse I did get of her wrists looked like she'd worn a bracelet too tight for a long time. They almost looked like ligature marks. But those usually fade away, like bruises.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, she can't stand to be touched, like me. She has strange scars on her wrists. When we danced, she mandated that I keep at least one foot of distance between us. I longed to wrap her in my arms and press her against me, but her distance kept me from doing so. That and her parents told me she doesn't like to be touched.

"I can't get her out of my mind, Flynn. It's obvious that she isn't ideal for my tastes. If she's so afraid to be touched, how could she possibly handle what I'd want to do in my play room? There's no way she'd ever consent to that."

"Don't make assumptions based on one night, Christian. You've not seen her since, have you?" he asked.

"No, we exchanged a few text messages earlier today, but that's it. She also seems to be a bit more controlling than I prefer. Feisty at the very least, which is good. But all other signs point to incompatibility, but I can't help thinking about her," I admitted. "I can't help wanting her in ways I've never wanted anyone."

"It sounds like she's captivated you," he told me. Well that was fucking obvious. "What's her name?" he asked. I wondered why he asked that, but knew it wasn't for any unsavory reason.

"Anastasia," I replied, enunciating each syllable as if it was the most important word in the world. "Anastasia Steele." He froze. Recognition colored his features. "Do you know her?" I asked.

"Um. Of her…" he replied, seemingly recovered. "I know of her. She's the CEO of Steele Designs, correct?" He flipped through a few pages of his notes, but came back to the first one. His cheeks were slightly reddened. I wondered if he knew more than just "of her."

"Yes, that's her. She's very successful, brilliant, beautiful and witty. And completely wrong for me. There's no way she could satisfy my needs, John. How can she?"

"I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss her. If she feels any bit as strongly towards you, she might be willing to try things. Be willing to compromise and negotiate with you. It's all about communication. Whether it's a relationship of your preference, or a more common one, communication is the most important thing. I suggest you be honest with her. Lay it all out on the table, see how she reacts, and then go from there. And in addition to that, if she's eliciting these feelings in you that you've never had before, perhaps you can move on from the ropes and whips, and into a truly emotional relationship." The man actually had a point. Perhaps the large salary I paid him was actually worth it.

We spent the rest of the hour chatting about the Coping Together benefit. He was invited, but at the last minute, wasn't able to attend. For that I was grateful. Normally I would have liked his presence there, but having just met Anastasia, I didn't want to deal with his prying eyes during the evening. Constantly wondering how he was psycho-analyzing me. Without his presence, I was able to concentrate more on the woman at my side.

Could we compromise? What changes would I be willing to make to accommodate her? On my way out of the office, I thought about these, staring down at the patterns in the marble floor. "You can go in, Miss Steele," I heard Flynn's receptionist say. Miss Steele?

I glanced up and saw Anastasia Steele staring at me, blue eyes wide as saucers. She never looked more beautiful. "Um, hi," she said. Now I know why Flynn seemed to recognize her name when I mentioned her. She was his next patient. As I gazed at her, she flushed a deep crimson. It was very enticing.

She wore a simple grey pencil skirt with a violet long sleeve blouse. Her Louis Vuitton heels matched the shade of her shirt perfectly. She was a vision. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, professional yet elegant. I wondered what she'd been up to all day in her office. And more than anything I wanted to be under her desk.

Ana PoV

Shit. Shit. Shit! Why was he here? Did he know Dr. Flynn, too? He just came out of his office, was he a patient like me? Oh dear god. I wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole. "Um, hi," I said awkwardly. How the hell do you greet the guy you're supposed to be going on a date with, when he just came out of a shrink's office, and said shrink happens to be yours, too? I could feel my blush creeping down my face and neck.

"You look lovely today, Anastasia," he said.

"Um, thank you. You look good, too," I replied, giggling awkwardly. This man has reduced me to a blubbering school girl in a matter of seconds. "I um, have my appointment now," I said, looking down at the floor. Please just walk past me and leave me to my embarrassment, I thought.

"Of course, my apologies," he replied shyly. Good, he felt awkward about this whole encounter, too. "I'll um, talk to you later." He stepped toward me, reached out and squeezed my hand. He then leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on my cheek. "Your blush is lovely," he whispered as he passed, a sexy smirk on his lips. It only made me blush harder.

Oh. My.

I stumbled into Flynn's office and shut the door behind me. "It appears that you are just as affected by him as he by you," he said. "And good afternoon, Ana."

"You mean he giggles like a school-girl, too?" I quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

"Well, I can't divulge that information, Ana. But I can say that you two will have your work cut out for you, if you're going to make any kind of relationship work."

"That's one reason why I made this appointment," I told him. "I need to get over my fear of being touched, if not for him, for me. I can't keep living in this bubble of fear."

"I'm glad you're finally realizing that," he replied. "It's taken a few years and apparently the appearance of one Christian Grey in your life for you to fully accept that you need to change. For starters, your scars. You hate your body because of your scars. You can't see that you truly are an attractive young woman. As soon as you think about someone seeing your back or your wrists, you go into panic mode and retreat into yourself.

"Your scars are a part of you. They were part of what made you who you are today. They don't make you damaged or broken, they make you unique. I had a patient a number of years ago, who had similar scars to yours. Hers were received a bit differently, but rather than covering them up, hiding them, she made them stand out by tattooing them. Each scar tells a story, Ana. And I know you remember each one. Tell the stories, talk about them. Don't bottle everything up inside."

"You think I should tell Christian about them? About my childhood?"

"You'll be surprised how much you have in common with him," he replied. Did he really just say that? Was he allowed to say that? "I advised him to be honest and forthcoming with you. I suggest you do the same. If you hide from each other, you'll never know each other.

"Of all the treatment plans you've tried over the years, I think connecting with someone who shares a similar past will be the best one. You can try his methods, and he yours. Together, you can both overcome your afflictions. I truly think you meeting that man was not by accident."

"Well, it quite literally was," I replied, I told him the story of how I tripped on the dance floor and fell into Christian's arms. I continued with the rest of the evening. How I was mortified and terrified about the dance auction, but that Christian made it easier by outbidding the other men, keeping me at arm's length, and being generally respectful all night. He apparently kept other suitors at bay, but never once tried to cross my boundaries. Not until he touched my wrist anyway. Not that he did it on purpose.

I wondered if Christian sat here pouring his heart out about me to Flynn. Did Flynn tell him that he knew me? No. Christian seemed genuinely surprised to see me, so Flynn probably kept his mouth shut. I wouldn't know that he knew Christian if it weren't for running into him in the waiting area.

God, how awkward would this conversation be? I'm dating a man who has the same therapist as me. Freud would have a field day with this. Oh, and whatever am I going to tell Kate? No, Christian asked me not to disclose any information to Kate. And sharing the same shrink surely falls under that request, doesn't it? Should I just call the whole thing off?

I sat there not listening to Flynn's words as I warred inside about my upcoming date with Christian. God knew I found him attractive. He was the first man I'd ever found attractive. And here I thought I'd be terrified of men for the rest of my life.

The terror sets in and I'm thrown into my memories.

Mommy lies on the table, blood pouring out of her arms and from between her legs. Baby Sister in my arms, crying and crying. She won't stop crying. Brother starts crying. He doesn't understand what happened. I don't understand what happened. Why did mommy take the scissors and cut her arms up? Doesn't that hurt?

I remember when I accidentally cut myself with the scissors. It hurt real bad. Almost as bad as… almost as bad as… with the… ropes.

Baby Sister won't stop crying. I don't know what to do. Mommy won't get up. Then I hear the door open. It slams against the wall, tearing a hole in it. There he is. Oh no. He's going to be mad that Mommy isn't awake. I cradle Baby Sister in my arms, holding her close, trying to keep her safe from him.

He stomps across the floor, glaring at Mommy lying on the table. "What the fuck did you do?" he yells at her. He picks up her arm and drops it. It makes a loud thud against the table top. She doesn't move. "You killed her! You little bitch!" He yells at me.

I shake my head at him, tears starting to pour down my eyes. He's walking towards me now, his eyes like fire. I put Baby Sister in Brother's arms. He can't hurt the baby. Please just hurt me. Not Brother and not Baby Sister.

"She was my best money maker you little cunt," he hollers at me. I feel the back of his hand smack my face, sending me on to the floor. I taste blood in my mouth. "Now you're gonna work for me. You got that? You're gonna make me all my money, bitch."

He picks me up and throws me against the couch. I start crying louder and louder every time he hits me. Doesn't he see that no matter how many times he hits me, it won't make me stop crying? Then he tears off my shirt and my pants. No. Those are the only clothes I have. Mommy can't go buy anymore.

Then I see him undo his button and zipper, pulling his pants down. What is he going to do? "Let's just see how good you are. See how much money I can get for this juicy little pussy." He puts his hands between my legs and feels around. I don't like it. I cry more. I wish for words to beg him to stop.

"Ana… Ana!" Dr. Flynn yelled, pulling me out of my memory. "Are you alright?" he asked. "Did you have another flashback?"

"Yes," I reply, wiping the tears away from my face. "The worst one."

"I'm sorry to say our time is done, and I have another patient scheduled, or I'd extend our session. Just remember this, Ana. He's not here. He can't hurt you. You have the power over your own life. You must own your fear and overcome it."

I left his office in a daze. So many emotions to sort through. I didn't feel like I was in any place to even think about letting someone like Christian in my life. Flynn ardently disagreed with me, that Christian was exactly who I needed in my life. But due to his own patient-doctor confidentiality, he couldn't tell me why.

On my way home, my phone buzzed with an incoming message. Glancing at the screen, I saw it was from Christian. Oh dear. Let the awkward begin.

Good afternoon, Anastasia It was a surprise to see you today. I gather you're a patient of Flynn's as well. He's a good man, isn't he?

Oh god, he wanted to discuss the merits of Dr. Flynn? Not a chance.

Yes, he is a good man. It was a BIG surprise to see you there. You looked very handsome by the way.

Please deflect the conversation by accepting my compliment, I wished.

Thank you. You were rather ravishing yourself, Miss Steele. Violet is a great color on you. It complements your complexion beautifully. Any plans for dinner tonight, by chance?

God, bring on the blush again. Thank god, he wasn't here to see my skin turn tomato-red. Wait, he wants to go to dinner tonight? What happened to Friday? Oh no, he didn't want to date me. Of course, who would want to date a basket case like me who needed a shrink? And why would he want to date a woman who saw the same shrink as him? That would be so many kinds of awkward.

Dinner tonight? Um, I hadn't thought about food yet. I normally just cook for myself and whoever is in my house, which normally isn't anyone. Are you asking me out tonight in addition to Friday?

I waited for a minute or two for his reply.

Miss Steele, if I had my way, we'd have dinner together every night. I could be at your house tonight. You could cook for me.

Didn't that violate dating protocol? First date is always somewhere public. In case one of the parties ends up being an axe murderer, right? But we did already meet at the benefit. And my family knew his family. It wasn't like he was a complete stranger. Close enough though.

Sure, that sounds great. I'm on my way home now. I'm sure I can throw something together for us to dine on. Be prepared for a delicious meal, Mr. Grey.

I tried to lighten the conversation, coax a smile out of the beautiful man.

That sounds lovely, Miss Steele. Shall I bring a bottle of wine?

I quickly replied.

Um, you can if you like. I don't drink, so I won't indulge, but we do have a full wine cellar at home. You're welcome to peruse that.

He replied that it sounded great, and he'd be over within two hours. I rushed my way home, threw myself into the kitchen and began cooking like my life depended on it. And like clockwork, two hours later, the doorbell rang. Reynolds greeted him at the door and led him towards the kitchen where I was still busy putting the finishing touches on dinner.

"Here we go," I whispered to myself.