Author's Note: Hello everybody! A few things. Before you read this, do yourself a favor and Google Prince Carl Philip of Sweden...you're welcome...and he's single. I'd also urge you to check out the pinterest page, (link on my profile page) for a picture of Ana's dress. I can't describe clothing to save my life. And finally, a huge thank you to my faithful reviewers, both logged in and guests. You are all so appreciated by me!
CPOV
"Tired as fuck, that's how I am. What did you find out?"
Taylor turns the computer towards me and sits in the chair, eyebrows raised and hands peaked in front of him.
"He agreed to no face to face and he tried, again, to push for the weekly meetings but Missy Stamper basically told him to fuck off in so many ways. I'm pretty sure that girl is from Jersey or someplace out East because she takes no shit from anyone."
"Philadelphia."
"Sir?" I look up from the scanned contract and say it again.
"Philadelphia. Her family moved out here when she was 16. That's why she's got an accent. I'm glad Ana's got her working for her, she's like a pit bull at the front door. What the hell does this say?" I'm squinting but Liam's scratch is so tough to read that both Taylor and I can't make it out.
"He wants my personal cell phone number." Ana is in the doorway looking young and fresh and nothing like the CEO I know she's poised to become. "Missy told him it was a non-negotiable but he feels that he should have direct access to me. Matt gave him his but that's not good enough obviously."
"Are you really willing to walk away from this? Because he's going to continue to push back at you and while I'd normally say this was good practice and a good learning experience, the fact that it's him makes me want you to just flip him off and shut him down."
She sighs and sits heavily in the chair next to Taylor who watches her closely. I've caught him doing that a lot lately and I'm pretty sure it's because he's uncomfortable with the entire idea of her meeting with Lillian. The thing with Taylor is, he's been around long enough to know what exactly happened with those women. And I'm talking about more than just the sex which I know he was inadvertently exposed to on a number of occasions.
He was there to terminate the contracts after watching more than a few of them pour their hearts out to me and go on and on about emotions and their love for me. At the time I found it annoying and stupid but now, now that I've experienced what love is, I'm ashamed of the way I handled it. Or, more accurately, had Taylor handle it. If Ana shut me down the way I did those women, it would crush me.
I think he realizes this epiphany of mine, another in a never ending stream lately, and that's the only reason he hasn't urged me to do something about the violation of the NDA's. Guilt is an overpowering emotion and one I've become grossly familiar with of late. I took good care of my subs when they were under my care. I was demanding and strict but I was also fair and considerate. It was the way I acted at the end that has recently made me feel shame.
"He's already made the formal PR announcement that he's hired my company to handle the translations and while normally that would mean jack shit, because I'm dating you and am also working for you, it's going to be widely received. Backing out now would be a foolish move on my part and to be totally honest with you, Christian, I want to cut my teeth on this guy. I think I can learn a lot about being a business owner by dealing with him."
I know what she means but I still don't like her learning anything from him. Dealing with people in the business world that push you out of your comfort zone and force you to define your role as CEO is extremely important. Ana is smart enough to see this and I have to trust that she's smart enough to handle it as well.
"He doesn't get your private numbers. Your private anything for that matter!" Taylor snickers but quickly recovers and stands to go.
"If there's nothing else, Sir, I'd like to rest before we land." I feel great after sleeping for a few hours and waking long enough to have dinner while we refueled in DC. I thought those few hours would have been enough but my baby wanted a repeat of our flight to Aspen so after fulfilling that, as quietly as possible, we both slept like the dead. I woke somewhere over the Atlantic to an empty bed six hours later.
She stands as well, pulling her long hair into a messy bun on top of her head and smiles. "If that's it, I've got to go hand Ryan his ass again. He sucks at WAR."
"Do me a favor and send Sawyer in here." She looks at me, stern and questioning at the same time. "I'm not going to fire him or say anything that would upset you." She snorts and opens the door.
"Right. Because you never overreact to male attention." And with a deliberate shake of her ass and a quick blown kiss she calls for Sawyer and shuts the door behind him.
"Sir." I waste no time getting to the purpose of this impromptu meeting.
"I pay you to protect her, Sawyer, not be her friend." He nods once but I can tell he's holding back. "Speak freely." He hesitates and then crosses his arms behind him as if he were in the military again.
"Mr. Grey, you've never been to war or experienced combat so I don't expect you to understand what it is I want to say but I'd be grateful if you would hear me out." I nod once, refusing to sit since he isn't either.
"In any combat situation, those who survive are forever changed by it. It's internal and involuntary. I realize you aren't comfortable with that but it's not something that can be helped. I'll even go so far as to say that the reason I don't think Ms. Steele has experienced true PTSD is because she's had someone who experienced the attack with her and is able to relate to her on that level."
"I have no illusions as to my relationship with her now or in the future. It's clear to everyone that she is in love with you only. I have no feelings for her in that way whatsoever but I can't deny that we have a connection that nobody else has here on the team. I care deeply for her and while I don't have any sisters, I would assume the feeling would be similar."
I have never seen him look at her lustfully or heard him joke in any manner that would alarm me and despite my feelings on it, there will always be a connection between them. He saved her life and saw her at her most vulnerable. He was the one who covered her up and comforted her until the police arrived. He is the one that carries the physical proof of that night.
I sigh, long and deep and then sit, motioning for him to do the same. He does, leaning forward on his knees.
"This is new for me, Sawyer. All of it. I'm resentful that you were the one to save her, petty and ridiculous as that sounds. But I'm also eternally grateful and understand that it was your job but just because it was a job doesn't mean that emotions don't get involved. I have to trust you. Ana is comfortable with you, you're aware of the nuances involved in this job and you're damn good at what you do."
We both wait for me to finish but I don't know what else to say. It is what it is. "You may go." He rises but doesn't move towards the door.
"Sir. I was there because you put me there. At the end of the day, you were the one who protected her. I know that, she knows that." And with a quick nod he ducks out and I lay this issue to rest.
"Mr. Grey! Welcome back to Liberia! We are most happy to have you here again!"
Jamodo Frederick is a tiny man but what he lacks in stature, he makes up for in personality. He releases my hand and reaches for Ana's, pausing and grinning from ear to ear before pulling her in for a bear hug.
"Ms. Ana! Finally a woman to tame this man! He has needed you for far too long, a man like him cannot be without a woman to soften his edges! Come! Let us get you settled and fed!"
30 seconds in and Ana is totally enraptured by him and the activities around her. Her eyes take everything in, the sights of the roadside vendors, the children playing in the street who chase after the car, the horizon that frames the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. Jamodo is speaking rapidly to her, his accent heavy enough to confuse me but with her ear she easily keeps up, asking him questions and answering his.
"You have not been to Africa at all then? This is a shame, we have many good things here. The world knows us for our blood diamonds and civil wars but we are more than that, Ms. Ana." Jamodo is always spirited, always happy but just like everyone else, he's captivated with her.
I've seen her in social settings with her peers, in business settings with people far more powerful than she is, in a family unit and alone with me. They talk about the 'it factor'. Ana has it in spades. Jamodo sneaks a wink at me when she asks to stop the car so that she can buy a blanket from a woman on the roadside with her children.
I'm pretty sure Taylor and Sawyer have heart attacks on the spot but I just watch, entranced by her enthusiasm as the woman explains the meaning of the quilt. Ana listens intently, asking a question here and there before bouncing back into the car and lifting it high up so that I can see the thing up close.
"It's a coffee plant!" Jamodo smiles and orders the driver on, continuing his diatribe until Ana asks to get out again to see what the sticks on the side of the road are.
"Sugar canes, we are famous for that and for our rubber! Come, let me show you how to enjoy the cane without having to cook it." Cane. I have to laugh. This is not how I pictured Ana's first meeting with a cane but there she is, on the side of a dirty highway sucking sugar from a freshly cut…cane. Irony at its best.
When we get into the capital Jamodo becomes less animated and begins to fill me in on the latest issues he's had with the pirates. Our ships have been fortunate so far but small ships, some of them trying to bring in much needed supplies, are still being attacked and taken over.
"Actual pirates? As in 'me matey, walk the plank' pirates?" Ana looks incredulous, her eyes on the ocean to our right.
"Well, they do not say 'matey' but yes, actual pirates. They have nothing to eat, no jobs, no prospects so they are desperate. There are men in rafts approaching cargo ships, that is how desperate they are for food and money. Some are bad, terrible even, but many are just desperate."
"Desperate or not, I don't want then coming anywhere near our ships. When is the next one scheduled to arrive?"
"Tomorrow afternoon. I've heard from the Captain and he is ahead of schedule, no pirates in sight."
"What is he bringing over?" Jamodo shifts his attention back to Ana and becomes animated again.
"Rice mostly. Some medical supplies and some peanuts and other dry goods but mostly rice. Our country cannot feed its own people so we depend on the goodness of others. Rice is cheap and feeds many but we still need to import almost 90% of it. You will see tomorrow the clamoring at the docks as we unload. For many, it is the only opportunity they will have to make money all month, for others, this is all the food they will get."
"Ana won't be at the docks tomorrow, Jamodo. They're not safe enough, I won't risk it." Jamodo looks at me with raised brows but wisely says nothing.
At the hotel we're brought to our room, the 'penthouse' if you will. Ana doesn't seem to mind or notice that it's not the luxury we'd normally stay at. Instead she opens the windows and lets the ocean air in, stopping to rearrange the balcony seats so that we can have dinner outside. We've lost a full day of travel time but we rested enough on the flight over for it not to be an issue.
"I'm going to shower and shave. Join me?" She jumps off of the bed and follows me, eyes bright and excited. "This is worse than your apartment shower." I grumble, lathering her hair up in the small tub/shower combo. I was hoping for a fuck but outside of a stand and slam, the shower isn't really an option.
She wraps herself in an oversized towel and sits on the counter to watch me shave. For some reason she likes to watch this mundane task but I'm usually at the office by the time she wakes so she misses it often. She swirls the brush in the heated shaving cream but I have no intention of shaving right now with her all wet and naked and right there in nothing more than a towel.
"I wonder what we'll have for dinner. I'm pissed I didn't research this Ah! What are you doing?" She squeals and writhes in my arms, slippery and soaking wet and I almost fall on the bathroom floor with her until I give her a good slap on her ass to keep her still. "Ow! What are you doing?"
"Having dinner." And with that I toss her onto the corner of the bed and taste the delicacy between her legs before flipping her over so that she can see the waves as I pound into her.
"This is cassava. It is another staple food for us here. It must be prepared very specifically or your mouth will itch and go numb." Ana stops, mid-chew and widens her eyes. Jamodo winks and urges her to continue. "I know the chef. My brother. You are fine." Her hesitant smile makes him laugh.
I count very few people as friends in my life. I thought, for a long time, that my only real friend was Elena but I've come to learn in the past few months that my friends are my family and very few others. Jamodo is one of them. I'd never spent time with him outside of Africa and even then never outside of our business arrangement but sitting here with him, on the balcony of our hotel room sharing a meal, it's obvious to me that I think differently of him than I do other business associates.
I know little of the man's personal life but his outward appearance is deceiving. The face he presents to the world is one of contentment and happiness but I know inside he's hurting for the family he lost. One broken heart knows another or some poetic bull shit like that. But instead of letting the anger from their deaths fester, he turned it into something beautiful and healing. He's trustworthy and kind, loyal and righteous, dedicated and persistent. Even now, as we sit and joke, he pats Ana's back, her hand, her arm but there is no jealousy or animosity on my part. He's just being Jamodo Frederick.
After dinner Taylor makes plans with Jamodo's security team to meet at Feed the Nations headquarters and then locks us in for the night. The security of the hotel leaves a lot to be desired so we're using a few of Jamodo's men to stand guard outside the hotel and outside of our door. At first Ana seems a bit nervous about that and I chuckle. She actually wants security now. But then I drag her into the bed and hold her body against mine and watch her chest rise and fall, each breath slower than the last until her hand falls away from mine in slumber.
I could watch her like this for hours. Peaceful, content, serene, her hair fanned out behind her and twisted in my fingers as they caress her. I always love her but it's these quiet moments where I can really let my guard down and just cherish her that make me feel as if my heart might burst. How is it possible that I lived almost 29 years without her?
As it always does, my heart constricts at the thought of it. A life without Ana...I shake my head and push the idea away. It can't happen. Plain and simple cannot happen. This life that I'm now constructing, these relationships I'm forcing myself to form and work on add color and depth to my existence but she is still the center. She always will be. Fact.
In the morning I wake to something wet and warm on my dick. I'd know this mouth anywhere. There is no way to accurately describe the perfection that is her mouth. The way her tongue never stops flicking and twirling or the way her cheeks hollow, accentuating the pink softness of her lips. I don't open my eyes and instead deprive myself of sight and touch, my hands clasped behind my head. I can't help but groan when her teeth gently scrape over my balls while her fist strokes up and down, that strong tongue coming out to glide from base to tip over and over.
"You have such a beautiful cock, Christian. I love it so much." Oh god. Her hot breath against my shaft is followed up by a cool stream of air that she blows up and down my length before sliding me back in to the tightness of her throat. The sound of her rhythmic sucking is sexy as hell and within minutes I'm coming into her mouth with a grunt and a shudder, my fingers tangling in the mess of curls on top of her head.
When I'm finished she cleans me with her tongue, each lick like a jolt of electricity until she plants dry kisses up my abs and over my sternum before kissing me on the mouth. I can taste the salt of my cum when she grins against my lips before pulling back and hopping off the bed.
"Hey! Where are you going?"
"Shower!" She tosses back, switching on the light.
"What was that?" Her cute face peeks around the door frame.
"Breakfast. You had dinner last night, I had breakfast this morning." The door closes on a giggle and I try to sit up to get her but I'm so damn relaxed I just flop back down and close my eyes again. That is one hell of a way to wake up.
"The ship arrived late last night. We'll begin offloading in about two hours once we've got security in place. I know you do not want her at the docks so if you are comfortable, my sister in law will take Ms. Ana on a sightseeing tour of our city."
"No. I'm not comfortable. Ana will remain with me here unless she wants to stay in the hotel room."
"Mr. Grey, she is not a woman who will be content watching television in a hotel room. She is a, how do you say in America? A mover and a shaker. Let her come to the docks, I think it will be good for her. She is in no danger if she remains in the watchtower." Jamodo is one of seven people who will argue with me about things not related to business but I don't like any push back when it comes to Ana. Before I can argue she walks in then with a tall black woman who hands out coffees and donuts. I'm always amazed at how much America has influenced this country. She hands me one and points at hers.
"Donuts! Did you know this country was colonized by freed American slaves?" Her head shakes in disbelief. "It's amazing when you think about it." The black woman leaves and we sit at the conference table with the board of directors that I've put in place. With the exception of Joell Larkin who relocated here from Nebraska, every single one of them is a Liberian by birth and half of them are women.
Jamodo and his staff have put together a power point presentation in the hopes of eliciting the financial support of Prince Carl Philip of Sweden and while in my business world it's severely lacking in finesse, here, the presentation is more than sufficient. After strategizing over the best way to approach the Prince and finalizing a number that would be workable to ask for, he begins the visual and audio he'll present at a breakfast meeting in two days.
By the third picture Ana's good humor is gone. For all we have done here, for all the food and supplies we have been able to provide, the fact is that over 80% of the country's population lives in poverty and the vast majority are food insecure. What's worse is that Liberia is one of the better countries that we reach. There are a few points in the show where I almost ask Jamodo to stop because of the sadness I feel emanating from her but I know she'd be embarrassed if I did that. In some ways, her reaction is a good barometer as to what we can expect from the Prince's team so while I'm hesitant to show her all of it, I'm also eager to hear what she has to say.
When the lights come back on my eyes are focused on her but she's focused on the screen, blinking rapidly to hide the tears she wants to shed. She's as unassuming as she can be and the room, outside of myself, is unaware of her struggle. When Jamodo begins to speak, reciting the speech he plans on giving at the breakfast, she pays close attention, making notes at the same things that I do.
An hour later his speech and the presentation have been tweaked to my satisfaction. The board will attend the dinner tomorrow night as well but for the rest of the day they will visit each distribution point that has been assigned to them. Ana rises and takes my arm, resting her cheek against my shirt and inhaling into my chest.
"I want to go to the shipyard with you." I can't say no to her and not because I'm so in love with her. I can't say no because in the last hour, I felt a shift in her and I know, without any doubt, that she needs to see this operation as a whole.
Taylor takes a deep breath when I tell him but says nothing, just grabs another two security men to accompany our caravan to the dock. Along the sides of the road are lines of people for close to a mile and a half.
"What are they all doing?" Jamodo turns his head, his eyes immediately taking in the change in her.
"They are here either for work or for food. We hire extra men on days like today but there is room only for 50 or so."
"But there are hundreds waiting." He nods solemnly and looks at me.
At the dock we walk to the watchtower and take in the magnitude of unloading a cargo ship filled with food for millions of people. Her excitement lifts as does her spirits when she sees food being delivered and placed into army trucks for further destinations. Below us there is controlled chaos as women, children and young men wait patiently for their families allowance.
With each truck that departs and each family that makes their way back to the road with their food, Ana begins to understand that even though it looks hopeless, it isn't. She swings around and wraps her arms tightly around my waist, eyes innocent and watery.
"I love you, Christian Grey. You are an amazing, compassionate, generous, kind, wonderful, loving man and I am so proud that you're mine." Her words penetrate with their brazen honesty, hitting me in the very furthest corners of my heart and burst, lighting the darkness into a blazing light. When she buries her face in my chest I look down and see things the way she sees them and the words ring true. I am those things and I was those things before she came into my life. But it took her for me to see it. Still, old habits die hard and I rebut her out of habit.
"It's just the right thing to do, Ana. And even then it's not enough." She holds my face in her hands, no trace of humor or joking behind those intense green eyes.
"You care about people you'll never meet. You do this because you care, not out of obligation. Don't cut yourself down because you think you're supposed to." She waves over the side of the tower at the crowd below. "This, is because you care."
Jamodo walks over and clasps my back, a slight burn emanating from under my white shirt but nothing like it's been in the past. His face is somber but somehow lit from within.
"She needed to see this, see the good with the bad. And you, my friend, you needed to see this as well."
The next day we rise early and I go over, for the ninth time, the security procedures I expect enacted. Ana, with the help of Jamodo, has convinced me that it's safe enough for her to go into the city with guides so that she can see Monrovia. After our moments together yesterday I don't fight her, I know it would be pointless.
We spent the evening at Jamodo's brother and sister in laws house. I politely declined the invitation but Ana swatted my chest and wrinkled her face at me before turning to Jamodo and accepting. He laughed when she asked what we could bring, like this was a normal dinner party, and told her just herself.
I admit I was less than thrilled to be there at first. The house was filled with people, most of them adolescents and young children who gawked and prodded at me like I was a circus freak but then something crazy happened. I made a decision to enjoy it, to sit back and soak it in and just like that, I was happy.
"I'll be back by five to get ready for dinner. Thank you so much for letting me do this, Christian. I know it's not easy for you and I swear I'll be as safe as possible." She kisses me goodbye and I watch her walk to the van, surrounded by eight men and two women. Over protective? Absofuckinglutely. She waves at me until we turn the corner and I offer up a silent prayer for her safety.
My day consists of back to back to back meetings with town and government officials from the provinces and countries that Feed the Nations has satellite posts in. My goal for this trip, outside of procuring more funds, is to establish a clean water system for the outlying villages. If we can hire men to build these wells and teach them how to keep them maintained and sterilized, then we can kill two birds with one stone.
Hiring men means bringing much needed income into an impoverished region while access to clean water lowers health risks. Most of the groundwork has been done already but I still need to look over proposals and approve them, something I'll only do once I meet with the individuals who will be running this branch of the organization.
In between the work here in Africa, the day to day realities of GEH are also present in the form of emails, calls and deadlines that can't be ignored. But this frenetic energy, the thrill and challenge of having too many balls to juggle, is where I excel. When I can tame chaos and see growth, when I can conquer a failing company while at the same time deliver something as simple as rice to a forgotten village, I'm king of the world.
Living in two separate universes and running them both has always been a head trip for me. In Seattle, I am brutal and ruthless, my reputation feared and revered by every business that I show an interest in. My objective is singular. Make money.
But here, in Liberia, I am looked at in a way that is equally as satisfying yet completely foreign. Here the arguments are impassioned because it's not money at stake, it's human lives. In Seattle my time is coveted and dispersed only to the most important of people. But here, my time is doled out freely and easily to the poorest of the poor, individuals who have nothing to offer me except a smile. A commodity I've only just begun to realize the worth of.
Until Anastasia, I had never thought of myself as having a soul but sitting here, in this out of date office with men and women who have dedicated their lives to the betterment of others, I feel as if a part of me is being fed. In so many ways my life is new to me, a journey I had started without realizing it and one that I'm just now finding my footing for.
"Sir, Ms. Steele is back and getting ready for the dinner tonight. The car will be ready at 6:30." Outside of the door to the hotel room Sawyer stands in a tux, ready for the night.
"How was she today?" He grins and shakes his head.
"Emotional but happy. It's astonishing how she takes people in, I've never seen anything like it." I snort and push the door open. Tell me about it.
"Let's hope she can pull in the Prince for half a billion dollars." My smile turns to a beam when I see her in her gown. "Holy…shit." She smiles and turns shyly to show me the back. My heart is in my throat, my stomach in my feet and my dick somewhere in subspace.
"Do you like it? Caroline said it was appropriate for tonight but I've brought three others just in case." Her fingers twiddle with an errant curl while her teeth bite her lip and I know I'm supposed to say something right now but I can't find my voice. "Christian?" With a firm shake of my head I meet her eyes and smile.
"You look beautiful. You look...magnificent." I lose the words. What she looks like is a bride and it causes my heart to leap into overdrive, imagining her walking down an aisle wearing a white dress like the one she has on. It's floor length like a wedding dress with sheer fabric layered on the bottom under a silver beaded waist. The top is fitted and sweeps over one shoulder leaving the other one bare and sensual but not overtly sexy. Stunning.
"Thank you. I've laid out your tux for you." My eyes follow hers and notice the tux and shoes I'll wear tonight before sweeping back to her. I have to make her my wife, I have to see her like this, saying I do and committing to me for the rest of my life. I want to lay down at her feet and beg her to say yes and I would if I could talk or move but I'm frozen.
Her reaction to my declaration on the plane was encouraging I remind myself. "I'm going to marry you." I'd said right before we drifted off. Those clear green eyes lifted to mine as her lips smiled sweetly before pressing against my own with a tenderness that left me speechless. "Yes, one day you will." She'd whispered into my ear before curling into me to sleep. I'd lain there for a few more minutes, fighting the urge to call ahead to DC and have a justice of the peace meet us on the tarmac but then she'd flung her leg over mine and I'd relaxed into her completely. Persistence Taylor had said. I have plenty of that.
"Christian? Are you alright?" She moves towards me and sweeps the hair from my forehead, that adorable V forming between her eyebrows. God, I love this woman.
"I'm fine." My voice sounds foreign, husky and deep but she seems not to notice.
"Alright then. Get in the shower, I'll tell Sawyer we need 15 minutes." She reaches for her earrings, the diamond ones I got back for her, and swings back around to me. "Are you sure you're ok? Because you're acting kind of strange."
"I'm great, baby, really."
I look good in a tux. I know this. But when I stand next to Ana, I feel dowdy and unworthy. She simply radiates beauty and judging by the looks she gets on the way to the car, I'm not the only one who notices. On the drive over she's nervous, looking at her reflection in the window to watch the swing of the diamonds hanging from her ears.
"Do you think my hair is ok? Kate taught me how to do this French twist but I can't really see the back well. Is it alright?" My throat is thick with a million words but only a few find their way out.
"You are the most beautiful woman in the world, Anastasia. You look amazing." Her flurried hands stop and she smiles, turning to me and kissing me lightly on the lips.
"I'm the luckiest girl in the world, Christian." We stay like that for a few more minutes, enjoying our alone time and then step out at the Executive Mansion. Ana stands with a smile and places her tiny hand in the crook of my arm, nodding as members of the Senate and House greet us. I am beyond proud to have her on my arm.
Inside, the President, Ellen Sirleaf, approaches us immediately and Ana withdraws her hand, allowing me to greet her with both hands. When she turns to Ana she extends her hand and Ana takes it, shaking it and smiling.
"Madame President, it is such an honor to meet you. Congratulations on your recent Noble Prize. Thank you so much for opening your home and your country to us." Proud. As. Fuck. The President smiles and ushers us in, asking questions about our visit so far. Once the formalities are out of the way we mingle with the distinguished guests, most of whom I don't know before a hush falls over the crowd. All eyes, including mine and Ana's turn towards the door where the Prince of Sweden is standing.
Well shit. I should have Googled his picture.
Once he's greeted the President his eyes wander and fall on Ana, a few feet away from me. She smiles at him and him at her and though it's nothing more than manners, I want to pound the fucker. In two steps I'm at her side, abandoning a conversation I was in the middle of with the Minister of Finance, to pull her tightly against me as he approaches. Mine motherfucker.
When he finally notices me he smiles kindly and then involuntarily looks at her again. Fuck and fuck and fuck!
APOV
The minute I meet Jamodo I like him. No, I love him. He is one of those people who you know hurts deeply on the inside but has made the decision to love and carry on. His effervescence bubbles over into every word he says, every move he makes. When he greets Christian it's obvious that there is a mutual respect and admiration between them.
Seeing Christian like this, eating, drinking and joking with another man outside of Elliot is a joy to watch. Besides their joint venture and desire to change the world, these two men know the sharp pain of loss and loneliness and it binds them together even if they don't realize it.
I'm elated when Christian asks me to come along to headquarters to help evaluate the presentation for the prince. The reality of what we're doing here comes crashing down on me as we watch the video and read the statistics. Over 64% of the country's citizens are food insecure. Only 61% of people can read which excludes them from gainful employment and there is, on average, one doctor for every 100,000 citizens. The facts are sobering
As I watch the video my desire to be a part of this thing that Christian has started weighs heavier and heavier on my heart. I can help, I just don't know how to yet. It's hard to read statistics on the nations maternal death rate and preventable disease death rate and not want to get involved. Despite cargo ships that arrive monthly laden with food, there is still not enough. The civil wars have ended but the devastation is absolute.
I'm shocked when Christian brings me to the dock with him, especially after he shot down Jamodo so quickly yesterday and when I see the sheer number of people waiting for food and work I understand his initial hesitation.
When I look down and see hundreds and hundreds of people, families and individuals alike walking away with bags and wheelbarrows full of food because of my boyfriend it overwhelms me. In many ways, he is literally saving lives but hardly anyone knows about this back in the US.
I read plenty about Christian when we were getting to know each other and while his humanitarian aide was mentioned, it was only in passing. The two articles that showcased Feed the Nations were written from a hopeful standpoint and not a realistic standpoint so this, all of this actuality, is jarring. Here standing next to me is a man who single handedly is feeding thousands of people. And hardly anyone knows about it because he doesn't see it as a big deal.
His selflessness is astounding, all the more because he doesn't even realize he's being selfless. This is the man I want to spend my life with, the man I want to raise children with and grow old with.
I'm able to convince Christian to have dinner with Jamodo at his brother and sister in laws house after pestering him for most of the afternoon and then finally just telling him that's what we're doing. His anxiety kicks into high gear when we get out of the car and are instantly surrounded by a group of kids and young adults. Jamodo hurries to the front gate and shoos away the small crowd, swatting a few of the younger kids on the butt with a kitchen towel.
"Sorry about that, you're a bit of a celebrity to my great nieces and nephews. Come!" He stretches his hands heaven wards and walks backwards. "My sister in law is beside herself with joy at your arrival!"
Hemwattee Frederick is quite possibly my most favorite person on this planet. Within four seconds of meeting us I'm handed a wooden spoon and told to stir a large pot while she drags one of the young children into the courtyard for 'a hiding' as she calls it. Christian sits at the table with the men and takes it all in, the anxiety of earlier fading into curiosity and wonder.
"How many children do you have, Hemwattee?" She clucks at a baby in a bassinet by the door and takes the spoon away from me before she tosses in a handful of pepper.
"Nine. That man always wanted me with child. He said I was lovely with a belly but he did not realize that the belly goes but the baby stays! Now, I have 24 grandchildren and two more on the way. I tell my kids, stop! There are enough little Fredericks in Liberia now!"
Jamodo's brother raises his glass with a few of his sons and toasts their last name, Christian joining in and grinning at me. I know exactly what he's thinking right now. 'Never in my wildest dreams did I envision being here.'
A minute later he lightly touches my lower back while I stir a sauce bubbling on the stove. "I like you in an apron. Ask her if you can keep it." I swat him away with a giggle but he comes right back in, pressing himself against my backside and whispering in my ear. "Just think about it, Ana. You, naked in nothing but heels and an apron."
We both help to carry trays of food outside where Hemwattee lays out an elaborate spread of palava, sweet potatoes and rice bread. In the center of the enormous outdoor table two of her sons lift the large pot I helped to stir. The first bowl is presented to Christian with a flourish and he lifts the spoon to his mouth. I can see he's a bit surprised but his good manners hide it well.
"You like goat stew then, yes?" His eyebrows shoot high up and he nods a few times, taking another spoonful.
"It appears so, Mrs. Frederick. Thank you." Goat stew? Oh shit. When she offers me the next bowl I blow on it to buy myself some time and after a minute I work up the courage to try it. "It's good, Ana. Promise. Taylor and Sawyer are going in for seconds already." His eyes are dancing with delight as he lifts another spoonful to his mouth, a challenge I will not let him win.
Eyes locked on his I try it. It is good! Dinner is a long drawn out affair and something I will never forget. Our hosts have seated us at a very long table in the middle of the courtyard of the house. There is a seat for each adult but along the outskirts of the yard there are children, dirty and happy, eating and then running off to play. This is one family that loves each other deeply. All nine of their children are here along with all 24 grandchildren.
Nine children and Jamodo has none.
After dinner we are served homemade ginger beer, coffee and stewed mangoes while the kids start to play a game of soccer. Hemwattee watches them with delight, just enjoying the sight of her grandchildren laughing and running. I want that one day.
When the temperature drops I'm startled by the feel of Christians suit jacket as he places it over my shoulders. He's not said much in the last three hours but there's so much to take in that it doesn't surprise me. Even a billionaire can be awed by the dynamic of this family and I realize then that outside of the Grey's, he's never had the chance to just be in the company of a normal family.
"Mr. Grey, you come play!" The oldest boy, a 13 year old if I remember correctly, tucks a soccer ball under his arm and motions for Christian to come out and to my utter delight and shock, he does. The kids and a few of the adults cheer and clap when he joins them, his playing now forcing some of the adults to join in as well.
It's a pleasure to watch him run around and smile, hair all over the place, dirty from the sand, dress slacks covered in dust. When he scores on the assist of a young girl he lifts her in the air and high fives the other kids, jogging over and sitting heavily into the chair next to me.
"I doubt this is what Salvadore Ferragamo had in mind when he designed these shoes." They are trashed. $2400 shoes and he finds it funny. What a world I now live in.
After spending time with this family it's almost impossible for him to say no when Hemwattee begs him to allow her to show me around tomorrow. I know that his day consists of spread sheets, meetings and debriefings so I gently nudge him but it's not necessary.
Back at the hotel we take turns in the shower, laughing at things the family said or did. His naked body flops onto the bed next to me, eyes focused on the ceiling.
"Pre-Ana, I would have had dinner in this room alone and would have worked until well past midnight. I've been to this place a dozen times but I've never visited it. Tonight was incredible." He turns towards me, the boxy muscles of his abs popping up just begging me to lick them. "Thank you for making me do that."
"Mmmhmm." I manage, my eyes taking him in from toe to copper hair. "Thank you for giving me the opportunity to be here at all. This is just" my words are cut off by his rattling snore. Well then, so much for licking his abs…
I can't hear what Christian is saying to the security guards he's assigned to me today but I can tell he's making sure they know he's dead serious about my safety. His eyes are lively and laser focused on each man as he makes his way down the line, hands animated while he barks orders and demands assurances that they understand what is required of them. When he's passed by the last man he turns to Sawyer, nods once and walks back to me with the same intense look.
"If you deviate, even a foot, from the allowances I've made and the parameters of my instructions, I will go fucking crazy on you. I'm not happy about this at all, Ana but for some god forsaken reason I'm with a woman who won't stay in a hotel room all day so…enjoy yourself and be ready for the dinner by six." With a firm kiss and a stern look he climbs in the car with Jamodo, eyes trained on me until he's out of sight.
"Well." Hemwattee clasps her hands together and looks around. "That was interesting. Now, let us get started on our day." With a smile her son comes to our side, another recruit by Christian to keep me surrounded by security, and takes my arm, ushering me into the van we'll be using today.
At first the streets of Monrovia look much like the streets of other cities I've visited but as we drive further away from the business center, they become narrower and much more crowded. The cars crammed onto the streets are mostly late models and men on bikes whiz past us at speeds that make me cringe.
Along the sidewalks are stalls filled with fruits, vegetables, meats and wares. Hemwattee wants to bring me first to a coffee shop she frequents that her friend owns. Inside it looks a bit like a rundown Starbucks back home but the aesthetic means little to me. I love this, the saturation of a culture into my system and sitting here, drinking a strong black espresso with the very people who live here is my favorite part of travelling. Coffee, it turns out is one of the main exports of Liberia and because of that, the people take it's appreciation seriously. There are no 'to-go' cups, nobody orders anything with froth or cream and nobody hurries.
Around me men are arguing about something I don't understand, younger teens are flirting with each other in a language that transcends cultures and vendors shout out the prices of the day's best sales. It saddens me that Christian misses out on this part of travelling. These are some of the very same people who he is trying to help yet he never gets to enjoy the fruit of his labor.
"Here, in Monrovia and all over Liberia, we have much to be proud of. Our country, many thanks to our President Sirleaf, has become one of the best places for women in West Africa. We are not like America yet but we are on our way. Our girls are now allowed up to eight years of formal education and have a literacy rate almost equal to our boys. And here, a woman is allowed to own her own store and sell her own wares and hopefully soon we will be allowed to own land as well."
"It is a long and suffering road we have walked as women but we march on, determined to right the wrongs of our past. None of my girls has been genitally mutilated and they have all attended school for a full 11 years with their brothers. It was a fight but none of their marriages were pre-arranged either." She shakes her head emphatically, glowing with pride.
"You go shopping now?" We stand when I smile and make to walk outside but Sawyer holds his hand up until he receives word from the men on the street that it's safe. I resist rolling my eyes. True to her word, Hemwattee knows everybody. At each stall we stop at the owners chat with her while showing me their goods.
I'm under strict orders not to mention my relationship with Christian since he's well known for his generosity in this area. Sawyer explained to me that I wouldn't be in danger, but that a mob would form to show their appreciation and in his words, 'a mob is a mob'. Instead I load the car with quilts, pencil drawings, a wooden nativity set, coffee, and animals carved out of sugar canes. When I hand the tiny tigers, ostriches and elephants to Sawyer he looks at me like I'm crazy.
"What? They're for Max and Sophie." And maybe my children one day...
While we saunter down the street with our lunch, a grilled skewer of chicken over rice, I bring up wanting to go to a refugee camp. Hemwattee falls silent and slowly shakes her head.
"I do not think you know what you are asking to see, Ms. Ana. It is not safe to travel the roads to the ones closest to here anyway. In Liberia, we have only one and it is for refugees from other countries. To see a real camp, you will need to go to Sierra Leone and that is not safe right now." She clucks and hands her empty plate to one of the security guards who promptly throws it on the sidewalk.
"In the camps you see hardly any men, it is all women and children because the men have been killed or called to war. For the women, it is an hourly struggle to survive and to keep their children alive. Your heart would not be able to take it."
"Hem," She pauses and turns to me slowly when she hears the hesitation in my voice. "what happened to Jamodo's wife and son?" Her eyes close and she lowers her chin to her chest, whispering a prayer in a language I'm unfamiliar with.
"Veronika was pregnant with her second child when she was killed. Her son, Samuel, was three, almost four. It was unusual then for women to have babies so far apart in age but Veronika and Jamodo were focused on their studies. She wanted to be a nurse."
"When our president was executed a piece of filth by the name of Charles Taylor was elected into office. Our country paid dearly for that mistake but Jamodo paid more than anybody. He refused to fund Taylors war with Sierra Leone even though he was threatened repeatedly. He came home one day to find Veronika and Samuel dead in their home."
She explains no further so I don't ask.
"Jamodo wept for a week and then one night at dinner he stood, brushed his knees off and stated that he was going to figure out a way to end the civil war and to bring stability to the very same people who had killed his family. He believed, and still does, that in order to bring peace, people need to have something worth living for. When your Christian came along, the efforts that Jamodo had put in over the last 13 or so years finally came to fruition. In many ways, Christian saved Jamodo."
Sawyer climbs into the front seat and motions for the driver to go, one ear listening to our conversation, the other listening to his ear piece and the security officer giving him the go ahead to drive.
"Why did he never marry again? He's such a good person, it saddens me that he's alone." She nods sagely and looks sadly out the window as the crowded streets are left behind.
"He is a good man and we have tried to push him to love again but sometimes, Ms. Ana, when the heart is hurt so badly, it continues to beat but it never really lives again." I instantly think of Sawyer and purposefully avoid looking at him. I can only hope that he heard those words.
Later that night as I'm doing my hair I reflect on the reality of why I'm here. Here in this country where women are still considered second class citizens in many ways, where basic health care is almost non-existent, where being able to read is a privilege and not a right, where hundreds of thousands depend on the kindness of others to eat, this is where my boyfriend has focused his efforts. It's not surprising to me at all when I think of it.
There are no names, no faces for him to remember or reflect on. He's able to satisfy the innate need in himself to care for and help people without having to hear the affections and praise for doing so. He has capably avoided intimacy even here. Even in the depths of his goodness he feels unworthy. The realization breaks my heart and strengthens my resolve. He has to accept that at his basest level he is a good person and if he refuses to see it, then I will force his eyes open.
As nervous as I am to be here amongst government officials and actual royalty, knowing that I'm here on the arm of Christian Grey gives me a boost of confidence that I desperately need. He looks gorgeous, breathtakingly beautiful in his Armani tux with his titanium Patek Philippe watch his only accessory. He'd look perfect with a platinum band on his left ring finger...
I watch him mingle with the crowd, shaking hands and graciously laughing when a joke is told. There is no benefit for him in being here. No money to be made, no real connections that will pan out to new business yet here he stands, spending more time in this place than he does on multi-million dollar deals. It's the most relaxed I've seen him in a business setting and even though he's given billions of dollars away to this country, he's the most humble when he's here.
A slow hush falls on the crowded room and all heads turn to the door when Prince Carl Philip of Sweden is announced. Holy mother of all things holy. If Henry Caville had a younger brother, he'd be it. When he smiles at me and begins to walk towards me I feel a moment of panic, not because of his attention but because I can feel the tension from Christian. His tall and familiar frame press against my side as he wraps a protective arm around my back but it's unnecessary. I already know where I belong and I don't need to be held there.
"Mr. Grey, an honor to finally meet you face to face. I look forward to our time together tonight." Christian shakes his hand firmly and introduces us as good manners call for. I know he'd rather shove me out the door and into the car so I will do anything and everything I can to make him feel secure.
"My girlfriend, Ms. Anastasia Steele. Anastasia, Prince Carl Philip of Sweden." He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles but doesn't pause there or hold my hand any longer than necessary.
"A pleasure, Ms. Steele. It is a privilege to be amongst so many like-minded individuals." Within minutes Christian's arm has relaxed slightly. Prince Carl is pleasant and courteous but not flirty. He is clearly here to talk business and by the time dinner is called, he and Christian have gone off on some tangent about distribution routes and overhead costs. I have to smile. That's my man, straight to the heart of things.
"What?" He asks when we sit down, he on one side and Prince Carl on the other of President Sirleaf.
"You. I just love you so much." He grins like a goofy nine year old, the beginnings of a blush creeping above the white collar of his shirt.
"Well then you're going to love this." His rueful smile makes me nervous so he hurries on. "The minister of Children and Families wants to take us on a tour of an orphanage tomorrow. I can't allow you to go to a refugee camp, Ana, I hope you understand."
"I do understand. I'm up for anything." When I lean in to kiss him he glances quickly at the Prince, no doubt wanting him to see my affection so I play it up a bit for Christian's benefit and whisper in his ear, "Watching you help people like this, making a true difference in the world, it makes me so wet you have no idea."
His perfectly composed face falters for a second but he quickly recovers, turning his lips to my ear and growling so low that I feel the vibrations in my womb.
"How wet?"
"My panties are sticking to me, in all the right ways. Sir." I'm in the mood for rough, demanding, raw sex but when we get back to the hotel room, he lifts me bridal style and carries me to the bedroom, murmuring his love and devotion to me as he runs his fingertips lightly over my exposed skin. He needs love making, not fucking and in this I can meet that need.
With adept fingers he unzips the dress and catches it when it falls, tossing it over the top of the wing backed chair at the foot of the bed before lifting me and placing me on my knees on the mattress. His grey eyes are bright and blazing with lust and love, a heady combination that leaves me trembling. When he's like this, when his desire meets up and levels off with his love for me, he consumes me from my soul outwards. There is no escape from him, no way to hide my heart.
He allows me to take off his clothes but doesn't allow us to separate. His hands hold my face to his the entire time, raining kisses that range from fueled passion to tender adoration until the only thing separating us from nirvana is my tiny cotton G-string. I'm surprised when he lays me down with it still on and leans up on one arm, his hand molding the thin cotton to my sex with firm fingers.
"Your panties are soaked, Anastasia." His mouth settles on my left nipple, tugging and biting while my hips grind against his hand. "Is this all for me, baby?" I groan when he begins to suck on my other breast, his tongue making lazy circles just as he pushes aside the fabric and sinks two fingers in, brushing his palm against my clit. "I can feel you pulsing around my fingers and against my palm. You want me, don't you?"
"Oh god, yes, Christian." He sucks in a quick breath and begins to move his fingers just enough so that I'm desperate for more.
"I love it when you say my name, Ana. I love it when your hands touch me everywhere like you can't get enough. I love everything about you." There's a vulnerability to his words that pricks at my heart. With the gentlest of pressure I push him onto his back and kiss him with a reverence I can feel but can't verbalize.
"I love to say your name, Christian. And I love to touch you everywhere because you're right, I can't get enough of you." When my hand wraps around his shaft and glides up and down his arms drop to his sides as if he were on a cross, stretched out, open and holding nothing back. This is the Christian Grey nobody but me has ever, or will ever see.
"I need you." He croaks out while I stroke feather light touches over his balls and up his shaft. With my thumb I swirl the drop of pre-cum around his thick tip and then straddle him, impaling myself slowly until he is as deep as he can get. With labored grunts he stretches his neck back, his hands fisting the sheets at the edges of the bed with each rise and fall of my body on his.
My eyes never leave his face even though he doesn't open his eyes once. His balled fists fly to his face and press into the hollows of his eyes, words gritted out through his teeth almost too low to hear.
"God, I fucking love you so much. So fucking much." His vulnerability crushes me and I fall to him, pressing my body against his and running my lips against the rough skin of his neck. I want to tell him I love him too but the words seem so trivial compared to the emotion radiating off of him right now so I tell him with my body, my hips grinding against his in a sexy figure eight until I can feel the tremble of his thighs as he tries to hold back.
"Be selfish, Christian. Just come when you want to, I want you to only think of yourself right now. Please, baby, do this for me." He groans and grips the flesh of my ass so hard I yelp but then he starts to thrust upwards while pushing me down. Less than a minute later he wraps his arms around me, pressing me even closer and whispers my name over and over while he convulses beneath me and fills me with his heat.
"I love you, Christian." His breathing is fast and hard still but he manages to demand that I say it again. "I love you, Christian."
"One more time." His arms tighten and he rolls me to my back, staying inside of me and running the back of his hand over my cheek.
"I. Love. You. Christian." He grins and then shivers, pulling out of me but not letting me go.
"I will never get tired of hearing that. No matter how long I live or how many times you say it, I will never get tired of it."
"Good." I say, reaching up to smooth away his hair. "Because I'll never stop saying it. There is so much to love about you, I'm going to need a lifetime just to explore it all." He smiles big and grabs my hand, holding it in his and kissing my ring finger. The significance is not lost on me.
"Well then, that's exactly how long I'll give you. A lifetime."