Some of you are asking for Ana's point of view. I won't be writing that in this story – at least not yet. There are a couple of things about her that I would want to remain a mystery both for you and for Christian a little while longer…
For all eyes to see – Chapter 9
Recap from last chapter:
The elevator starts moving and without taking my eyes off her, I reach out to push the emergency stop button. "We're not done talking" I say with a surprisingly strong voice as the elevator slows down and comes to a stop between my floor and the floor below.
Anastasia shakes her head slowly, with that sad look still on her face. "I have nothing else to say."
No. I shake my head too. This can't be it. I won't let it. "You don't even want to negotiate?"
What the fuck is that? Apart from the soft limits – I don't negotiate my contract. This is my rules; if you can't abide by them then I'll move on to someone who can.
"What's there to negotiate?" Her soft voice effectively halts my inner conversation and without thinking I reply:
"Anything you have a problem with." My own words catch me by surprise. What am I doing?
She shakes her head again. "I would just really want to leave right now"
I pinch my eyes shut and take a deep breath. What can I say to make her stay? To make her change her mind? I really need this. I need to get her out of my head so I can function as a normal human being again.
For the second time today, I decide that being honest is the best way to approach this matter. I take a step closer to her as I start to speak. "Yesterday, I lost a million dollar deal because I couldn't stop thinking about you and the things I want to do to you." Anastasia's eyes widen in shock and she opens her mouth to say something. Taking another step closer, I shake my head and place my index-finger across her lips to quiet her.
"You want to know the worst part?" She nods, her eyes still wide and staring into mine. "I don't even care."
I throw my head back and let out a bitter laugh. "I don't even fucking care!"
When I let my head back down again, I find her staring at me as if I'm crazy. Well, I most probably am.
I slide my hand from her lips and instead cup her cheek in it in a soft caress. "What I do care about on the other hand is getting you to agree to being my submissive." I close my eyes again and take another deep breath. "It's all I care about right now." I say as I open them again. "So tell me what I need to do to make that happen."
I release her cheek from my caress and take a step back. The ball is in her corner now. I hate not being in control of the ball. I hate not being in control, period.
She opens her mouth to say something, but then closes it again. "I don't know." She throws her hands out, resigned. "I'm not sure this will work."
I fight to keep my voice steady and not to give into the anger at her evasive answer or the nervousness over her impending departure that both fights to take it over. "Tell me what bothers you about the contract."
Slowly, her teeth sink into her lip but when she looks up to meet my eyes and see the look in them, which I'm sure reflects pure lust, she quickly releases it. "All of it."
And with those three words my world comes crumbling down.
The rejection stings even worse than I thought it would. I had anticipated a rejection when I showed her the playroom. I was prepared for it then.
But she didn't run. Against my knowing better I got my hopes up when she didn't run and that made the fall so much harder. She seemed interested for fuck's sake!
"I would love to show you if you'd let me" My own words from earlier in the playroom comes flowing back to me, but more importantly: the picture of her smile as I said those words comes flowing back to me.
"But you liked the playroom?" I try and after a long wait she finally nods.
"Some of it." Her voice is practically a whisper.
"That's good." I try to sound encouraging, but have a feeling I'm failing miserably at it.
Silence ensues and I see Anastasia glancing at the control panel. No. She can't leave yet. Not until...not until what? Until she's told me she doesn't want this five more times? How many times will I need to hear it before it sinks in?
"But you didn't like the contract?" It's already pretty obvious she doesn't, but I have to say something to prolong this conversation – to prevent her from leaving.
"No, I didn't." She simply says, but at least her eyes move from the control panel and onto me.
"Can't you tell me specifically what you didn't like about the contract?" I try again, hoping that this time I'll get some clue to how I can turn this situation around.
Ana sighs, I'm sensing she's getting tired of my questions, but I can't let this go. Not yet. "I don't like the fact that there is a contract at all."
"That's the way this needs to be done." My voice is stern. Non-negotiable. "For both our sakes."
She laughs. "For both our sakes?" She gestures wildly with her hands, almost making her fall over her crutches. "Really, Christian? For both our sakes?"
"Yes." My hard voice puts a stop to her laughter, but she still shakes her head in disbelief. "Hard limits, soft limits – they're there to ensure nothing goes out of hand."
She nods. "The limits I can understand. But the rest?" She presses her lips together into a thin line. "How is stating in writing that you own me supposed to be for my sake? That's all your twisted fantasies and I will take no part in that. I'm not someone's property."
I feel the anger rising inside me. She's twisting the words.
A second wind comes over her and she continues in an agitated voice. "And the clothes and spa-treatments? That's just a nicer way to write: payment. News flash: not all strippers can be bought. In fact, most of us don't do that."
I open my mouth to give her a piece of my mind. She's making assumptions and just flat-out accused me of buying my submissives. News flash for you Miss Steele: I don't have to fucking pay for sex! Just give me a couple of minutes and I'll have you begging for me to take you.
But my momentum is lost as Anastasia reaches forward and presses the elevator button. The look on her face is defiant and she avoids looking at my face as the elevator slowly makes it way to the ground floor.
Even though there are a thousand things I would like to say – or rather shout – to her after her little speech, neither of us say a word. When the elevator doors finally open, Ana limps through them and with a weird sense of loss I neither understand nor like, I turn to push the code to bring me back up to my apartment and let her go.
If she doesn't want a contract – fine! I gave it a try, it didn't work: now I know and now I can move on. There are plenty of girls out there that understand the need of a contract and the difference between being mine and being bought.
I don't need Miss Steele and her ridiculous assumptions.
I spent all of last night convincing myself that I don't need Miss Anastasia Steele. I have no desire to have a submissive that is under the impression that I'm paying her – or anyone else for that matter – to come into my playroom with me.
Still, here I am: parked outside her apartment building where I just happened to swing by on my way to work. What the fuck am I doing here?
No. I turn the key and start the car.
Just as she told me I shouldn't – which I didn't – assume that she is a prostitute only because she strips; she shouldn't assume I want to buy people off only because I'm rich. The clothes and the spa-treatments are out of care for my subs – and for me; to groom them to my likings – and not to be considered as any kind of payment.
I glance at the apartment building one last time through the review mirror before I turn the street and head for GEH. I don't fucking need her – she's replaceable just like everyone else!
I occupy myself at work until it starts getting dark outside. I even ate both lunch and dinner at my desk while reading through contracts. I won't allow my mind even the slightest chance to dart in Miss Steele's way.
It's fair to say my employees have been on their toes all day and I'm pretty sure Andrea sighed with relief when I told her to leave for the day about three hours ago. I don't give a fuck. I'm dead-set on working until I fall asleep from exhaustion and then pick it up again the second I wake up.
Last night before I finally fell asleep I went to dial Anastasia's number no less than five times with my thumb hovering over the 'call' button before I thought better of it. I don't want a repeat of that. A few days of burying myself in work should do the trick.
And with my mind being elsewhere all of last week – there's no risk I'll run out of work to do. Maybe there's even a chance I can salvage the deal I lost. I'll probably have to budge on a few points to get them to look in our direction again, but I'm pretty sure it's doable. And it will keep me well occupied.
It takes about an hour before I give up. I'm restless and I can't focus any longer. Somehow Anastasia seems to work her way into my thoughts between mergers and acquisitions and I can't get her to leave.
For a moment I ponder the option of maybe calling one of my old subs up and have them come over for a night in my playroom – surely that would get Anastasia out of my mind. But for some reason I can't bring myself to action on the matter.
Maybe I should call Flynn? I haven't told him about my obsession with wanting to fuck this girl yet. I don't really know why. I guess I feared he would tell me to forget about it. Which would have been the reasonable thing to do.
I pick my phone up, but somehow I can't bring myself to call him either and the reason why has been lurking in the back of my mind all day and now it comes racing in full speed towards the conscious parts of my brain: I don't want to be told to give up. Not yet. I'm Christian fucking Grey and I don't give up until I've gotten what I want.
With that determination in mind, I grab my jacket and head for the elevator.
Having sped across town, nothing but luck standing between me and a hefty ticket, I have finally reached my destination: Anastasia's apartment building.
Without giving it a second thought, I get out of the car, head for the entrance and press the code I memorized that night I carried Anastasia to her apartment. Was it really only two days ago?
I take the steps two at a time and thanks to my regular workouts my breathing isn't even affected when I reach her floor and knock on her door.
It doesn't take long before I hear footsteps approaching the door, and when I hear the lock turning I put on my most panty-wetting smile, ready to charm my way into the apartment and let the convincing begin. This time I won't let her off that easy. If need be, I'll even resort into giving her a taste of the pleasures that awaits if only she'll sign the God damn contract.
The second the door opens, my smile drops however as I'm face to face with a…guy?
Where's Anastasia? I turn to check that I'm on the right floor and of course I am. This is Anastasia's apartment and her roommate sure did look a lot more feminine last time I saw her.
The blonde guy in front of me has a questioning look on his face, but I'm still in shock and can't get any words out – my brain is too busy trying to piece together the little information I know about Anastasia to try and figure where this guy fits in. The info I pulled on her said she was an only child, so he can't be a brother.
"If you're looking for Kate, she doesn't get back until tomorrow." The guy informs me, with a smile too big and too bright plastered on his face.
Who is this fucker and what is he doing in Anastasia's apartment?
A/N: Sorry, I just really have a thing for ending chapters with a cliff-hanger – I can't help it, it's like a disease! I promise I'll work hard to get the next chapter out as soon as possible, although I'm guessing most you will have figured out how 'the fucker' in Ana's apartment is before that…
