A/N: Okay, well, I'm giving you this chapter but this story is giving me a very hard time. For the first time since I started writing chapter by chapter here on FF, I'm wondering whether I can finish what I started. I hope y'all know I'm trying my best but I have major block on this baby. When I start having ideas about writing other stories, I know I'm in trouble. But I'll do my best. By the way, if you've read One Shady Character here on FF, I'd be ever so grateful if you'd wander over to Amazon and leave a review for Three and a Half Weeks. If you haven't read it, what are you waiting for?

Chapter 22

Cornered.

Before we can take a solitary step, Hans ejects out of his chair. "It's my turn to tell you to get your hands off her!"

Despite the spacious room, I feel trapped between two snarling alphas sizing each other up.

I dart a glance at Hans, astonished by his overreaction, then at Christian to see his response: it's like being at the U.S. open.

Hans maneuvers closer until he is chest to chest with Christian and Christian jerks back as if burned, startling me.

Seeing Hans go up against Christian, I get a new perspective on him. He isn't the same sweet, shy boy he once was and he is not to be denied his quarter—I think he's had just about enough this evening. "I'll repeat my question," he spits out, the cadences of his Swedish accent noticeably pronounced now. "Who are you, please, and what business is it of yours what I do with my wife?"

"Your what, now?" Christian's eyes can't get any wider and blood rushes to his face, creating a livid effect.

My whole body is trembling. Is it because of my proximity to this man I'm infatuated with or is it because I sense real danger? Probably both. I do know I need to control the situation, like, right now.

"Um," I interject quickly, words tripping over each other, "Christian, this is Hans, Hans Rehnquist. You might remember that I told you I was married and the marriage was supposed to be annulled? You remember that whole thing…"

"Yes, I happen to recall," Christian snaps. His lips are pulled taut and devoid of blood. That's because it all rushed to his head, I suppose.

"Well," I continue rapidly, "it never was. Annulled. So… um…" I turn back to Hans. "This is Christian Grey, my, um…"

Shit. What do I call him?

"…friend," I finish feebly. At the scorching anger heating my back coming from Christian's general direction, I add, "Uh, ex-boyfriend, actually."

Christian doesn't respond to my explanation or introduction. I guess manners aren't on his mind right at the moment. Instead, his eyes boring holes into mine, he says, "I'll repeat my question, as well. May I speak with you privately, Ana?"

Hans is nearly foaming at the mouth as I meekly say, "Excuse me, Hans. I'll be back momentarily." It feels good to walk away from the escalating situation… but as they say, from the frying pan into the fire, I now have to deal exclusively with one very angry hombre. As we make our way across the room, I decline to take his proffered hand. At this minute, I'm entirely unsure who is in the wrong—Mr. Grey or me. Or neither. Or both. I'm confused.

He starts in on me almost immediately. "You told my father I walked out on you?"

There are probably two scarlet circles on my face, like a painted marionette. "That wasn't very gentlemanly of him to repeat what—"

"He was chastising me for treating you badly, Ana."

"Oh. Well. Didn't you? Walk out?"

"I walked out on you?"

I nod, now looking at him in earnest. "I think so. Didn't you?"

"You have quite a selective memory, Ana. You threw me out of your apartment and instructed me never to contact you again. You define that as me walking out?"

"Well, technically…"

He shakes his head, the only thing wider than his eyes is his gaping mouth. Snatching my hand, he hauls me to the first quiet corner he can find. As my feet rush one way, I swivel my head back around to try to catch sight of Hans. Sure enough, he's sitting at the edge of his chair just waiting for his moment to spring up to retrieve me; his face is flushed and his eyes are shooting fiery sparks directly at Christian. Maybe bringing Hans tonight was not such a great idea?

When we reach the corner Christian jerks me around to face him. "Are you telling me you didn't want to split up?"

Expelling all the air in my lungs in one loud huff, I train my eyes on my shoes as if the pointy stilettos hold the answers of the universe. They don't, though, more's the pity, even though they're pretty enough and I'm finding I rather look at them than Christian's furious face.

"Ana!"

"With you I don't ever know what I want."

"Join the fucking club, Ana. But if you didn't want to split up, why did you tell me to get lost? Because it must have occurred to you that I might misconstrue your meaning and think you wanted me to actually get lost."

I'm becoming mesmerized watching the veins cord in his neck. I hope he doesn't have a stroke or anything.

"Ana! Will you focus? I'd like you to tell me please, why I endured seven months of unhappiness if you didn't want me to get lost. And while you're at it, you can explain why you're still married when I distinctly recall paying Carson's bill for dissolving your marriage of convenience and dealing with the extortionists," he says through clenched teeth, his eyes now blazing hot again. "Carson seems to think he handled the annulment. So there's that." Now his hands shift to his hips. "How is it that you're still married to the bastard?"

Shit. His teeth are clenched so hard that there's a muscle tic in his jaw. No matter how I explain, he's still going to be massively pissed off. Unhappiness? Did he actually miss me while rushing around with long-legged blondes clinging to him like stubborn skin parasites? Wobbling on my high heels, I wipe my brow with the heel of my hand. "I… Hans asked me to wait a month—only a month or so" I spit out quickly, seeing his ferocious expression "… so I did. He wanted to come to the U.S."

"For all that's holy, Ana, you are too damn naïve, and far too trusting. Didn't you learn anything from your last experience with this very man? How do you know he wasn't behind the whole thing?"

"I…" Halting my kneejerk denial, I stop to consider. How do I know? The answer is I don't, not really. Still, I can't let him know that. "I truly doubt he had anything to do with it, Christian."

"Well, I don't," he snarls. "I think it's mighty peculiar that these people came after you in the first place.

I glance at him with trepidation: everything he's said is one hundred percent true. At least he's still talking to me. As I peer into his expressive eyes, I see them heat up, not with anger for a change, but with wanting. He sees me looking and says hoarsely, "Kiss me."

Gasping loudly, I say, "What? I can't. Not here."

He wraps one arm around my waist and the other snakes around my head to hold me to him as his lips plunder mine. And plunder is the correct verb because he's not gentle in taking what he wants. Still, I find I can't complain too loudly. I make a token effort to push him away just for show, but he knows it's not very serious and keeps kissing me until I pretty much swoon. I'm so happy to be right where I am.

Until Hans comes marching up to us and rips Christian away from me. Oh, God.

"Hans, listen to me, you have to stop acting like a real husband," I scold him.

"Am I not real, Ana? Am I not your husband?"

"Hans, you know what I mean!" The whole time I'm speaking to Hans, I'm attempting to hold Christian away from him because I don't want to get blood on my new dress. But when I let go, Christian maintains his distance and when Hans moves in closer, Christian puts his arm out to keep Hans back. If I didn't know any better I'd think he's trying to avoid a fight.

To the casual observer, Christian probably looks very much in control of himself but I already know him well enough to know he's right on the edge of control, anger-wise and it's very easy to hear it in his low-pitched voice. "Listen, bloke, I want you to understand something loud and clear: Ana is my girl. Perhaps the marriage of convenience that occurred several years ago between the two of you is technically still legal but it's never been a viable marriage and it never will be. What's more, it was never consummated so an annulment will be easy to obtain."

His meaning takes a moment to register but register it does and Hans looks at Christian, fury in his whole face and body. He knows that Christian knows that because we've slept together.

"You know less than nothing of my relationship with my wife so back off. Isn't there an American expression that says possession is nine-tenths of the law?"

I see Christian pulling back his arm as if to throw a punch and I can feel the heat of a crowd's attention, all staring at the growing spectacle we're creating. "Hans," I say sharply, "please return to our table and wait for me. I need to speak with Christian first. Then I will speak to you. Do you understand? I mean now."

"No, Ana, I will not—"

"You will," I nearly screech. "Now. You're creating a scene and embarrassing me."

He points his thumb at Christian. "He's the one making the scene. I'm just defending what's mine."

"I'm not yours! Now, go. I mean it."

A sullen expression descends over his face as he spins around and stalks back toward our table. I watch, wondering if he'll just walk past it and keep going out. It's what I would do.

"I want to know where we stand, Ana, this instant." Christian is on me the second Hans turns his back to go.

"I…" The words drop off for I truly have run out of things to say. I just stare into those mesmerizing eyes and wonder if I'm seeing what I want to see or if he really cares for me, and all of this behavior is not just alpha-dog turf war.

"Well, Ana?"

"You didn't answer my text… and you've been photographed with other women. Plus, I haven't heard from you in seven months. Seven months! That's an awfully long time, Christian. I could have met someone and been married for real by now."

"In seven months? Really? I would hope you're not that impetuous."

"I'm just saying that I could. Why the cold shoulder?"

Grasping my arms, he bends so that his face is level with mine. "Ana, you broke up with me. I was feeling insecure, and instead of offering me any reassurance, you kicked me out and told me not to contact you again. Pray tell, how would you interpret that?"

Whether or not I have the right, I'm spitting mad now. Why am I being painted the villain here? He was the wishy-washy one, not me, and I'm the one who continually suffers. "Fine, Christian, you want to know where we stand? Here it is: you've obviously moved on and I have, too. I hope you enjoy your evening." I wrench myself from his grip.

His eyes shift over to my table where Hans awaits. "So that's it then? You're going to go back to that table, share the night and then go home with him? Are you and he having a real relationship now?"

With his tone of voice I understand one thing clearly: he's going to walk away again. The man is unbelievable: he strolls into the room, starts major trouble with Hans, and now he's going to walk away and leave me to deal with the mess. That's it for me… I'm truly done. "That is truly none of your business. I'm sorry I told your father you walked out on me. If you'd like me to amend it, just send me a text of what you'd like me to say and I'll be sure to say it if and when you father ever asks me again. If we're done here, I'm going back to my husband." I say that last part just to piss him off.

I watch as his irises flare. He turns his head back and forth, looking for something, then grasps my arm, propelling me to an exit. I can't see Hans' reaction but I'm pretty sure he'll be showing up soon wherever Christian's taking me. He rushes through the entrance, spots a closed door, and in seconds, we're inside the room with the door closed behind us. It's pitch-black. I can't even see my hand in front of me. He pushes me up against the door and crushes his mouth to mine almost violently, cradling my face in his strong hands.

I feel his warm breath on my neck. "Ana," he drags the syllables out almost as if he's singing my name, and then sweeps me into another kiss, the most intense kiss I've ever experienced. It takes a few seconds but the truth dawns on me that this kiss is doing all the talking for him. He's pouring everything into it: his passion, his heartache, and his affection. What the kiss is telling me is what he can't… he missed me. Truly. And… he cares about me. Definitely.

It touches me in a deep, dark place that is only mine to know. I want him back.

"Where the hell are we?" I whisper when he lets me up for air.

Even though my eyes are adjusting to the dark I still can't see him clearly, but I feel his body heat and hear him breathing. The next thing I know is that his hands are on my legs, beginning with my ankles and running up to my thighs. His fingers keep traveling up, under my dress, where they meet the top of my stockings.

"Fuck, you're wearing silk stockings?"

It's a question that doesn't require an answer. His fingers keep moving up until they reach my panties. Touching me through the silk fabric feels so frustratingly good: good because he's touching me there, frustrating because there's the fabric obstructing him from actually touching my skin. Gentle at first, those fingers become more insistent and snatch down the panties, leaving me bare.

That's about all I can think because the physical sensations begin to bombard me. He's everywhere: hands, lips, teeth, hard-on, all of it touching, pressing, shifting, pushing. He squeezes my breasts through the dress, then carefully unzips the back, sliding the material off my shoulders and letting it drop to my ankles in a heap of velvet.

"Here?" My voice falls somewhere between a strangled whisper and a high-pitched screech. "Someone can walk right in."

"Not when we're leaning on the door," comes his breathless voice. Well, it's no time for second thoughts as I'm naked already but for my skimpy bra so I guess I'm all in. I hear his zipper slide open and the crinkle of a condom wrapper, then his fingers slip between my legs. "I think, Ana," he says in that sexy, deep voice, "it's safe to say we're on the same page."

Sex in a very dark room is intense—it enhances all the other senses when you can't see. Everything about my lover becomes bigger in my mind: his scent, breaths, words, touches, thrusts—just everything.

He lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms holding onto his beautiful broad shoulders. There's something about his shoulders that do me in every time. I feel his hands cradle my backside and then he lifts me up and plunges into me.

The feeling is indescribable. Too tight, too hot, wet, good, great… words fail me. I can focus on nothing for there's too much bombarding me, competing for my attention. I know he's hot, big, hard, breathless, adoring me. I'm gasping, wet, full, shaking, loving him. I never want to let go.

"I love you," I cry into his ear.

He moans, and his iron control breaks. He grips me harder and thrusts hard and fast three times before stopping dead, shuddering, and then kissing my neck as he sighs and hugs me tighter.

I'm waiting for a response from him. Will he pretend he didn't hear it? Will he tell me loves me too? So far there's nothing. But I'm not letting him off the hook: until he says something—anything—I'm staying quiet.

He gently pulls out of me and slowly lowers me back to my feet. I'm about to start looking for my clothes in the dark when his hand caresses my cheek, holding it and he leans in to kiss me gently. "How do you know?"

How do I know what? That I love him? His question floors me in its innocence. I'm the one who's supposed to be innocent and naïve yet Christian shows me flashes of an innocence so profound that it's breathtaking.

"I just know. I want to be with you. I don't want any other woman near you. I like to touch you and be touched by you. I love every part of you. I think you're funny, and competent, and handsome." My words peter out. How does anyone explain the definition of being in love?

He hands me my panties and I shimmy into them. "Here," he says, "step into the dress." He's holding it next to me and I step into it and he zips me up. I hear his zipper done up too and wonder what he did with the condom but I'm not going to ask.

"Ready?" he asks, his voice soaked in humor.

"As ready as I'm going to be, given the situation. I hope you're happy," I grumble, but he knows I'm kidding. At least I think he does.

Now I have to go out and face Hans in the state I'm in. I'm not a good liar and a worse actress but I can't say I'm sorry we did what we did. "Wait," I say, and grab Christian by the ears and pull him down for a big, sloppy kiss. "Now I'm ready," I say and smooth my hair with my fingers as he guides me out the door.