Thursday morning arrives quickly. Once Christian's background checks on Golden Gate Publishing returned without anything suspicious, my eagerness only mounted. Part of me had half-expected to find out this place was a ruse or some sort setup by Elena. Following recent events, I wouldn't put anything past her anymore. I truly don't understand her fascination with ruining my life. Aside from the fact that I tamed a man she trained from a young age to believe the best he could ever hope for would be to dominate and fuck little brown-haired girls and follow her around like the trained puppy he became, and perhaps ruining an indecently expensive dress by throwing a lethal cocktail at her one night years ago, I haven't done anything to her.
If Christian is good to his word—and he damn well better be—we won't be dealing with Elena for much longer. He still doesn't want to vocalize his plans, but he assures me that this time he will be successful.
"Nearly ready?"
I jump, having been staring in the mirror at my own reflection for I don't know how long. Christian is standing behind me, leaning on the doorframe, fully dressed for work and looking incredibly good. "Just about," I say, turning back to myself. I'm dressed simply for my job interview—pencil skirt, light blue blouse, heels. Judging by the glazed look in Christian's eyes, I'm good to go. Either that or he's about to drag me by my hair to his cave...
Now there's an idea... I file that away for future consideration.
I turn around to face Christian. "Do I look all right?" I ask nervously, smoothing down a wrinkle in my skirt.
He smiles slowly, pushing himself off the doorframe, crossing the room to stand in front of me. "Better than all right," he tells me softly, lifting my chin to look up at him. "You're beautiful. Those people won't know what hit them when you walk through their door. Just make sure they don't get too close or I might just have to hit them myself."
I giggle at his growled threat, knowing he's only half-serious. But the half of him that is serious is probably deadly serious and won't hesitate to tear off the arms of anyone who attempts to invade my personal space. I slide my hands up his arms and lock my fingers behind his neck. "You have nothing to worry about," I whisper against his lips before closing the little remaining distance. A kiss that began innocently quickly turns into something very much less so as he presses me against the bathroom counter. He cradles my cheek and moves his lips across my neck to my ear. I gasp as his teeth pull on the lobe before he pulls away, leaving me whimpering in protest.
"I will always worry about you," he whispers, kissing the tip of my nose. When he is confident I won't fall if he lets me go, he steps back, smirking. "I do love putting that flush in your cheeks, Mrs. Grey." Before I can convince him to make me flush some more, his mercurial mood switches yet again. "Now, once your interview is finished, why don't you come by Grey House and I'll take you out for a celebratory lunch?"
I raise an eyebrow. "Getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren't we? Who says they'll even offer me a job?"
"They'd be stupid not to," he says bluntly. "Biased though I may be, you're a publishing house's dream, Ana. You're determined, you're focused, and you're passionate about your job... Ana, once this place hires you, Grey Publishing will have a run for its money. You and I could be competition."
His teasing words throw be back into reality again. "Competition?" I whisper in horror. I can't think of anybody who would actually want to be in competition with Christian Grey, least of all me, his wife.
He lets out a short laugh. "Baby, I'm kidding," he assures me. "Technically, yes it would be considered competition somehow, but I have no intention of doing anything about it. Grey Publishing is yours—hell, everything is yours. So really, you're competing against yourself."
I grin shyly at his boyish smile. "Aren't you running late for dictating your empire?" I ask him.
"You mean your empire?" He's still grinning. "But yes, I am. I just wanted to wish you luck, not that you'll need it."
"Well, either way, thank you," I tell him, his good mood immediately lowering my nervousness. "And as for lunch, that would be wonderful."
"Good," he says simply, kissing me again for far too brief a time. "Don't want to mess up your lipstick." His words are whispered against my lips before he pulls away. "I'll see you soon, Anastasia."
Before I can register the dual meaning of his words, he's out of the bathroom and I can hear him downstairs talking to Teddy before he leaves.
When I returned to Seattle, there was no set timeline for my reconciliation with Christian in all things. I was determined not to fall into bed with him or let myself be blinded by the things I had been blinded by before. It's becoming much tougher to keep my resolve strong—I imagine Christian's having the same problem. The moments when we find ourselves pressed against some surface, whether it is a door or a couch, are becoming more frequent, more heated, and more difficult to stop. Christian, though, true to his word, hasn't pushed things any further than a little groping and grinding. He says it's because he wants me to be certain and ready, and he doesn't want me to regret rekindling that element of our relationship. Part of me appreciates his willingness to wait and respect the lines. Part of me can't help but wonder whether he really wants me in that way anymore. It's the part of me that will never forget what happened between him and Lucy, and everything I found out about the affair. One second he seems almost desperate for me, but he cools off in the next and we go about our evenings as normal.
Logically, I know his reasons for doing what he's doing are mostly for my benefit. Having sex while everything is so fresh in our minds could have negative repercussions on our relationship. For all I know, the moment it finally happens, my mind would choose to remind me of the video, thus destroying everything we've built up since I came home. I don't want that. I want to remember Christian, my Christian, the way he was before things started going pear-shaped. The sweet, loving, romantic man he has been lately. I want our first time since the affair to be perfect.
It's occurred to me that our weekend on The Grace might lead to us falling into bed and I know it's going to be almost impossible to resist the urge—the two of us alone on a boat in the middle of the ocean after all the sexual tension that's been building up between us—and I don't think I can find it in me to even try to resist.
My morning has been busy. I've been in meetings with Ros discussing several different deals in the works, had phone conversations with several lawyers about a number of things ranging from the upcoming trial with Lucy, dealing with Elena, and getting everything transferred into Ana's name. The paperwork she signed was more for my benefit than actually being legal; once the official documents are drawn up, Ana and I will sign them together and she'll own my life. Having had time to think about it, I'm surprisingly comfortable with this. Publically, GEH is still mine. Ana won't have to face the press or deal with any of the issues that come to hand. The only real change will be if I ever do anything to hurt her to the point that she wants to leave me or divorce me; she has the power to do whatever she wishes with my life's work. And considering how much my business means to me, it's just an extra bit of incentive to never fuck up again.
Not that I could ever put Ana through something like this again. I won't lose her. I'm more dedicated than I was before to keep her in my life, and I was pretty fucking dedicated before the last couple years. I wince at the thought of how I behaved during that time, before even meeting Lucy. Ana has never brought up the comparison, but I know I treated her like she was my submissive at times—the dictating whether she could work, making her run her daily schedules by me, denying her things she wanted, like a second child. Sex was always on my terms and I know there was once or twice that we parted and she was left unsatisfied.
That will never happen again. Her satisfaction, happiness, and general well-being are now my number one concern and will remain to be so for the rest of my life.
Before lunch, I'm making arrangements for this coming weekend and our trip on The Grace. Mac will stock everything we'll need and have the boat ready for Friday night. We're not actually pulling out until Saturday morning, but I've got some plans for the night before that I want to put into action. There's a knock on my door as I'm giving Mac last minute instructions and I don't even get the chance to tell whoever it is to leave me the fuck alone—the door opens without my invitation and my shouted threat of immediate firing is caught in my throat at the sight of my wife. Her eyebrows are tentatively raised, silently asking me if it's okay for her to enter. I nod quickly, realizing I'm still on the phone.
"Make it happen," I snap at Mac before slamming my phone back onto the cradle. I make a mental note to send him a text later—he's one of the few people who work for me that I don't act like a dick towards.
"Is this a bad time?" Ana asks quietly.
"No," I reply, smiling and standing as she enters. "How'd it go?" Normally I'm pretty good at reading her moods, knowing when she's lying or how she's feeling, but right now her face is expressionless and I have no idea what she's thinking for a change.
She shrugs slightly. "It went," she says quietly.
I still have no idea what happened at her interview... The look on her face suggests she was turned down for the job. "Can you elaborate a little?" I ask tentatively, uncertain whether I should comfort her or not. I'm almost tempted to head to this publishing house myself and kick a few asses for hurting my wife.
"Well," she says slowly, sighing as she finally meets my gaze fully. I hold my breath. "Let's just say I hope Gail won't mind watching Teddy fulltime starting in two weeks."
It takes a moment or two to work out what she means, since her tone and facial expression are both full of rejection. Not until I see a slight sparkle in her eyes do I relax and grin. "I knew you could do it," I tell her, my voice full of pride as I pull her into my arms. "Congratulations."
She returns my hug. "Thank you," she says into my shoulder. We stand like this for several moments before she pulls away enough to look up at me, her smile wide. "I'll tell you about it over lunch..." She trails off, looking uncertain. "Unless you're busy, of course."
I smile at her, taking her face in my hands. "Baby, I'm never too busy for you." I kiss her far too briefly before releasing her and grabbing my suit jacket, then leading her out of my office. After informing Andrea that I'll be out of the building for the next couple hours and to forward all business-related questions to Ros, I take my wife's hand and lead her to the elevator. The doors open immediately and we step in. Our gazes lock as the doors close again and we begin to descend. We don't speak, continuing our little staring contest. Her gaze is darkening and her breath is becoming shallower; I cock my head slightly to the side, feeling my pants becoming a little uncomfortable. Just before we reach the lobby, she bites her lip and I growl, immediately reaching over to release it. "I thought we'd discussed that," I whisper huskily.
She flushes and averts her eyes. I smirk in triumph. Triumph in what, I'm not entirely sure, but I have the feeling I should be proud of how I affect her.
During our walk down the street to a small café we used to visit whenever Ana joined me for lunch, we chat easily. I hesitate before opening the door for her. We haven't been here together in nearly a year and the last time had been a very tense afternoon as we were fighting at the time.
Returning my gaze with a challenging and encouraging with one of her own, I finally push past memories far from my mind and we enter. Immediately, we're led to our usual table towards the back. I pull out Ana's chair then sit across from her. We place our orders and wait. Ana tells me about her job. She's been offered a senior editor's position. Her immediate supervisor is, for a nice change of pace, a woman named Caroline Gold. The staff is small; aside from Ana, there is only one other senior editor. Above them are Caroline and her husband Joe who own the company. Ana can decide whether to hire her own assistant, but given the current light workload spread between the staff, she probably wouldn't need one immediately. The starting salary is decent, even if it is unnecessary for her; I keep the thought to myself. And most importantly of all, Ana seems very excited about her new job.
"For a bit I wasn't sure I'd get the position," she says between bites of her grilled chicken. "My work record is spotty at best and for a while there's nothing at all expect caring for Teddy." I wince at the unintentional jab and keep my gaze locked on my lunch. "Of course they wanted to know about my very short stint and sudden departure from Canton Publishing, so I had to tell them I left for personal reasons. But apparently Thomas gave me a very good reference and that worked in my favor."
Thomas fucking Canton. I haven't given him much thought since we left London, but I'll never forget how I felt when Ana told me she went on a date with him and kissed him afterwards. Or when I walked into the police station to find them holding hands. I know that feeling was only a fraction of what Ana must have felt watching that video of Lucy and me, and that is yet another of the one million reasons I will never put her through something like that again. I never want to think about her being with anybody else but me. "I bet he did," I mutter darkly.
Ana gives me a withering look. "He wasn't that bad," she insists.
I beg to differ, but I know better than to comment. "Well, you'll be pleased to know that everything has been arranged for our weekend outing," I say, watching her expression closely. It takes a minute for my words to register, but once they do, she smiles slowly. "I thought we'd head out tomorrow evening, have dinner on the boat, then set sail early Saturday. How's that sound?"
"Perfect," she says shyly. I grin back.
Before returning to work, I walk Ana to her car and can't resist the urge to thoroughly kiss her, giving her what I hope will be a tease of things to come. Wide-eyed and out of breath, Ana gets into the car and leaves. I wait until she's out of sight and return to my office with a slight spring in my step.
"Hello?"
I answer the phone breathlessly, having only just reached it after the fifth ring. Teddy and I have been playing hide and seek in the house and I've forgotten just how many hiding spots there are here, and Teddy apparently knows them all. There's no response on the other end of the line and after a moment, I hang up, assuming I reached the phone a little too late.
"Found you!"
I turn around to find my son looking out of breath himself and beaming in triumph. "So you did," I praise, bending down to grab him around the waist and pick him up, tickling his ribs until he giggles madly. There truly is not a better sound in the world than my son's laugh.
"Can we play again?" he asks when I put him down again.
I agree and turn around to begin counting, smiling at the sound of his retreating footsteps. He never really grasps the concept of keeping quiet while hiding, lest the seeker locate him. When I reach fifty, I turn around, nearly having a heart attack when I find Christian standing in my path. "Why must you always sneak up on me?" I demand, playfully slapping his shoulder.
He chuckles. "I can't help my stealthy nature," he responds easily. "But you can only imagine the sight of walking upon my wife, who is facing the wall and counting out loud to herself."
Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I glare. "I'll have you know I'm playing hide and seek with our son," I tell him sternly.
"Is that so?" he asks thoughtfully. "And do we know where aforementioned son is hiding?"
"I haven't had the chance to go seek him, since someone interrupted my progress."
His smile widens. "Terribly sorry, Mrs. Grey," he responds, not looking the least bit apologetic. "Shall I help you seek our son?"
I snicker. "Sure," I say. "He'll be pleased to see you; he's wanted to play with you all day."
"Can't think of a better way to spend an evening," he says sincerely, reaching out to run the backs of his fingers down my cheek. I close my eyes slightly at the touch and shiver. When I open my eyes again, I see his eyes have darkened in desire. He closes his own eyes briefly and the expression is gone. "Shall we?"
I nod, feeling strangely disappointed. I'm not sure what I expected to happen in the middle of the house with Teddy running around somewhere; I suddenly can't wait to be on The Grace...
The rest of the evening is spent playing with our son. Christian and Teddy have been chasing each other around for hours with no end in sight. They slow down only long enough to have dinner before continuing their imaginary game. While I'm doing dishes, again, the phone rings and I answer it.
"Hello?"
Again, there's no response. Glancing at the caller id, I see the number is blocked. After a few seconds, I hang up, shaking off the uneasy feeling building in my stomach.
"Who was that?" Christian asks, popping his head into the kitchen.
I shrug. "Wrong number probably," I respond. He nods and retreats. Not five minutes pass before the phone is ringing. Again. "Hello?" I answer it before the second ring, listening hard for any sound on the other end. There's nothing. "Look, I don't know who you're trying to reach, but I think you've got the wrong number. Please stop calling." I hang up the phone, staring at it with a furrowed brow. Only a handful of people have our home number—immediate family and security. It's unlisted and a borderline state secret. Anybody Christian does business with only calls his cell. I don't really have contact with people outside my family and the few I do haven't got the number either.
"Ana?" Christian is back, looking concerned. "Was that the phone again?"
"Yes," I tell him, still staring at the phone. "That's the third call I've gotten today and every time, nobody replies."
He leans against the wall beside me. "I'll have someone look into it," he says softly. "Don't worry about it."
I nod in response and start to follow Christian back to Teddy. The phone rings again. This time, Christian beats me to it. "Hello," he barks. I watch him silently as annoyance shifts fury. "How the fuck did you get this number?" His jaw tenses as the person on the line apparently replies. "I swear to fucking god, if you come near me or my family again, I will fucking kill you. This is your last warning." The grip he has on the handset is turning his knuckles nearly translucent. "I don't fucking care what you think you know. Stay away from us."
With that, he takes the phone from his ear and throws it across the room at the wall, shattering it into several pieces. The noise and the sudden violence make me jump as I stare wide-eyed at my husband. He's breathing heavily, his face red in anger, his eyes wild.
"Christian?" I venture quietly.
His eyes turn to me sharply and I see an immediate reaction: his expression softens just a touch as he realizes he's frightened me. "I'm sorry," he mutters tersely.
"Who was it?" My heart is racing as I wonder whether I really want the answer.
Resignation and sorrow fills his eyes. He takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "Elena."
Ice fills my body at the name. I have no words to respond.
"Same old bullshit," he spats. "I don't give into her pleading for forgiveness and she fucking threatens me."
"Threatens you with what?" I ask tentatively.
He runs his hands through his hair. "She's threatening to go to the press with proof of my former lifestyle if I don't cease my plans to bankrupt her."
My eyes widen. "If she goes to the press, she'll expose herself as well," I respond. I'm not entirely sure why this is my main concern, but it was the first thing my mind came up with.
"She's bluffing," he says in an almost comforting manner.
"What if she's not?" I persist, wondering why I'm not letting this drop before his anger returns. "If you have plans to bankrupt her and she's gotten wind of it, she's got nothing left to lose, Christian."
He sighs heavily. "If she's not bluffing," he says slowly, the thoughts of the possible repercussions plainly on his face, "then she goes to the media and outs me. I'll handle it however I can." His eyes meet mine, filled with vulnerability. "Hopefully with you at my side."
Before I realize I'm doing it, I'm crossing the room towards him, wrapping my arms around his waist. "Always," I whisper into his chest. He relaxes significantly and returns my embrace. "I told you, I'm not going anywhere."
"Thank you," he breathes into my hair. "Ana, I'm sorry. I can't seem to keep her from bothering us..."
For once, I can't blame him for Elena's continual involvement in our lives. I trust he's done all he could to keep her from further contact and her phone call was unsolicited and, judging by the state of our phone, unwanted. "Let's get Teddy put to bed," I say quietly after several silent minutes. Christian nods, eyeing me warily as though he's uncertain whether he's in trouble or not. I smile softly at him, hoping it conveys my non-anger towards him, and we begin our son's bedtime ritual.
While Christian fetches us some wine, I head into the family room where there is a blazing fire and wait for him to join me. Naturally my mind goes straight to Elena and this latest threat. For her to threaten to expose Christian and his lifestyle is probably one of the worst we've faced. His public reputation would be shredded and destroyed. His siblings will know. The information will be out there for when Teddy's old enough to read it. I'm certain Christian's PR and legal team will do whatever they can to stop it before it gets out, but there's only so much they can do. Nothing is stopping Elena from selling her story to tabloids.
This has the potential to ruin everything.
I look up suddenly when Christian sits down beside me, handing me wine glass. I smile thankfully.
"Are you okay?" he asks, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
"I'm fine," I respond. "I'm more worried about you."
He smiles sheepishly. "I'm fine as well. And I'm sorry about the phone; I'll have it replaced in the morning."
I chuckle and we drink silently for a couple minutes. "So when you say you plan to bankrupt her," I begin slowly, "what exactly does that entail?"
"Exactly what it sounds like," he says in a surprisingly calm voice. "After Carrick started looking into Lucy's finances, I decided to dig into Elena's. The pair of them has been embezzling funds from Lucy's non-profit organization for close to a year and a half. Without going into too much detail, they could both be looking at jail time—or more jail time in Lucy's case. I'm currently in the process of using what Elena has left monetarily in businesses to repay what they took from the organization."
My curiosity gets the better of me. "What's the organization?" I hear myself asking.
Christian gives me an odd look as though he's wondering why I'm bothering to wonder about anything his ex-mistress did. "It's for trouble teens," he tells me. "Ones that have been abused as children and need to get on the right path."
I feel my stomach flip at the thought of what might have happened if Christian had found a place like that during his formative years rather than being taken in by Elena. I'm trying to block out the thought there might have been a redeeming factor in Lucy, if she hadn't fucked my husband for five months. I can almost see what Christian was drawn to when he met her. Not that that justifies what happened, of course...
"Whatever it is you're thinking," Christian's words interrupt my thoughts, "please stop."
I look at him in surprise.
"I know that look, Ana," he tells me softly. "And all I'm going to say about it is you're better than the both of them put together. I don't want to linger on this; I'm so looking forward to our weekend away and I don't want that brought down by anything, especially Elena fucking Lincoln. We'll have our phone numbers changed and she will never contact us again. By next month, she'll have nothing, but you and I will still have each other. That's what matters right now; they won't win this."
For a moment, I'm frozen as we stare at one another. After that moment, I set aside my drink, then take his to place it beside mine, much to his surprise, and proceed to climb into his lap to kiss him for all I'm worth. He seems in shock at the eagerness with which I use my lips and tongue, but manages to adjust accordingly. When we break apart, I open my eyes to meet his. "I love you," I whisper. It doesn't escape my notice that this is the first time I've said those words without him saying them first in nearly a year.
The look in his eyes tells me he knows it as well. He gives me his thousand megawatt smile. "I love you, too," he whispers. "And this weekend, I want to show you just how much."
His voice is full of conviction and promise, and I suddenly wonder if I'll be able to wait until tomorrow night at the very earliest for him to show me.
He smirks, reading my thoughts. "Patience, baby," he breathes against my lips. "I promise to make it worth the wait."
As we continue our heated kiss, I think to myself that tomorrow evening can't come quickly enough.