CPOV
"Christian. You need to calm down. Take a Xanax or something but for Christ's sake, stop pacing."
"I'm the picture of calm, Ana. This is just boredom you see here. Where the fuck is this guy? This is a damn waste of our time!" She just rolls her eyes and flips the page of her book, her light blue toenails wiggling in the sun that shines brightly onto the balcony.
"He's four minutes late. Chill."
The dinner with the President of Liberia and the Prince of Sweden went better than I expected. Ms. Sirleaf had attended Harvard, as had I so we had that commonality to work off of. I had met with her once before but it had been brief and far less intimate. This time we were working together to woo Prince Carl and perhaps it was the camaraderie, perhaps it was the fact that we had already met, or perhaps it was Ana's presence but dinner with her turned out to be...fun.
For the most part anyway.
From the minute the Prince arrived I was itching to get the fuck out of there. I know a good looking man when I see one and he's way past good looking. The fact that he's a fucking prince doesn't help matters either. For four hours I kept my eye on him while he kept his eye on Anastasia. It wasn't so much that he flirted with her, because he didn't, but men of his class don't flirt. They take. I know this because I am one of those men.
So while she smiled and played the part of dutiful girlfriend he played his part of non-threatening male but I saw the way he lingered a second too long when he would glance at her. I saw the lively interest that took over his face when she spoke and I watched him as he watched her from across the table. My jealousy over all things Ana has, for the most part, been directed towards men that haven't shown an aggressive interest in her. Jose and Sawyer. Halen is a non-issue as far as her affections go, she thinks he's as big an asshole as I do and the other jerkoffs that check her out aren't around long enough to even learn her name.
But Prince Carl is on my playing field. For the first time I'm truly challenged by someone of my caliber. He knows it, I know it and he knows I know it. Each time she leaned into me or kissed my cheek he looked away either out of frustration or disgust. Either way she seemed oblivious and even though I know that she was being polite, every smile she gave him fueled that ember of jealousy until I was a raging inferno of insecurity.
When we parted for the evening and he kissed her cheek, his lips barely touching the smoothness of her alabaster skin, I thought the beast inside would win out but then Ana took my hand and ran her thumb along my palm. Such a simple gesture but one so intimate that the beast laid down and whimpered, desperate for more of her, desperate for her to love him with her words, with her body, with her soul.
And as usual, she met that unspoken need, filling the insecure chasm in my chest with everything she had until we were both a panting, sweaty, satiated mess. I slept well, as I usually do when she's in my arms, and woke to the quiet knock of breakfast being delivered.
Sitting in the parlor of this suite with her in a sheer white tank and a pair of white cotton panties had me hard as stone but it was the knowledge that in one hour we'd be meeting up with him again that had me fuck her hard and fast and brutal so that she could feel me for hours afterwards. I want my semen inside of her when he watches her today, I want the scent of our sex on her skin when he politely kisses her good morning. She may not know why I spread her wide and drilled into her until I could feel her womb but I know. I was marking her as mine, claiming her in a way only a man can.
So when we finally receive word that his entourage is in the lobby, ready to leave for the day I smile with satisfaction when she winces as she rises, the creep of a blush spreading like wildfire across her décolletage.
"What?" She asks when we step into the elevator.
"Nothing. Well, actually, I was thinking about this morning and that little squeal you made when you came around my cock." She covers her mouth and giggles.
"Christian! Oh my god. You are so bad. And it wasn't a squeal so much as a cry for help. It felt like you were in my lungs you were so damn deep." And with that she squeezes her thighs together and I sigh in utter satisfaction.
Until we exit and he walks towards us, arms outstretched looking casual in a navy blue polo shirt that shows off the color of his eyes. When he leans in to kiss her I want to get in his face and yell, 'Smell that mother fucker? That's me, all over her. Mine, got it?'. But instead we shake hands like gentlemen and comment on the weather. Hot and dry. It is Africa after all.
"Mr. Grey, Anastasia, good morning. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting but I was making a few calls that I felt necessary to get out of the way so that we can focus on today's agenda." He turns from me to Ana and smiles and to her it seems nothing more than friendly but to me, I know better. He's setting up the pieces to play a game that he will not win. Nobody will take her from me.
We are met at the door of the Lighthouse Children's Home by Joy and Titus Passewe, the directors of this particular orphanage. Inside I'm tied in knots but outside, I'm as calm and collected as always. I'm here for Ana, no other reason. Something in her has the need to be a part of something bigger than herself. To be physically present and aware of the hardships of others and as much as I want to shield her from any sort of pain, as her mate, it's my job to fill those needs. This is part of who she is and I need to accept that, hold her hand when the realities of the suffering of others hurts her and then champion her when she tries to help. It's who she is and I love her for it.
Ana motions for Sawyer and Jamodo to take out the boxes of toys and blankets she's somehow collected over the last few hours and then greets the Passewe's as if they were old friends. Inside the place is clean and bright with linoleum floors that line the halls and complete the look of stark white wherever you look. There are older children sitting in a room that mimics a school house, reading and writing in notebooks while an older man points to numbers on the chalkboard. Basic math.
Our party of ten is ushered into what I'm assuming is the dining room and offered coffee and small cakes which Prince Carl politely refuses until Ana takes one at which point he does the same. Asshole. The lights dim and a projector, the kind you only saw as a kid if you were born before 1980, flares to life.
Joy stands and slides a clear page on it filled with statistics and at first I'm hesitant to read them, content to hear her speak instead but then my eyes catch up to my ears and I realize that these stats are hopeful. Every year the number of new HIV infections drop, every year for the past 14 years the number of childhood diseases has decreased and each year more and more young people are receiving a formal education.
In the last five years in this country women have gained as many rights as they had for the previous 60 years combined. It makes sense. Just looking around this room, of the 12 adults present, seven are women, each of them strong and independent. Women are changing Liberia.
The lightness of the room leaves when she slides another page on and this time, the stats are sobering. For a few moments I forget that the prince is sitting on the other side of my girlfriend close enough to touch her. Instead my brain struggles to absorb the inordinately high maternal and infant mortality rates, the inexcusable numbers of children born without present fathers and the sickeningly shocking numbers of children who will die before their fifth birthday because of malnutrition or non-existent health care.
When the lights flick back on he turns to give her a sad smile but she's looking at me, eyes wide and sad until a movement behind me captures her attention and she blinks furiously, smiling with dazzling brilliance.
"Hi." She says just as a small girl, probably around five years old walks in and touches her knee out of curiosity.
"Pink." Says a tiny voice, indicating the color of Ana's capri pants.
"This is Esther, she was brought to us about a year ago after her mother passed away from tuberculosis." Four years old. That's how old I was when...
"Hello, Esther, I'm Ana." The little girl in a yellow flowered dress smiles and holds her hand out to Ana, pulling her to her feet and dragging her down the hallway to show her where she sleeps. We all follow in silence and watch as she shows Ana a rag doll resting on a threadbare bed. It's the only possession outside of her clothes that she owns.
"Joy." She says, offering the name of her doll.
"After…" Ana points to Joy Passewe who jumps in.
"They call me Mama P." Esther nods slowly and pushes the doll towards Ana who takes it and hugs it to her chest before returning it to tiny hands. Esther hugs the doll like Ana did and then tries to give it back to Ana. Only I see the small slump to her shoulders when her heart cracks. She takes the doll and tucks it under the blanket of Esther's bed, giving it a quick kiss before rising. My arm stretches out on instinct and she moves into it, tucking herself into my side while he watches from across the circle of people. Just because I can, I kiss the top of her head and pull her even closer.
Joy uses the opportunity to explain that most of the kids here will never be adopted since there are so many children. Their days consist of three meals, schooling and play time. There are two volunteers who help with the maintenance of a home that houses over 40 children but the kids themselves do most of the work with regards to cooking, cleaning and laundry.
"There are no infants here?" Prince Carl asks, smiling and waving at a small boy who is hiding under his bed and covering his eyes. Cute little fucker. The kid, not the Prince.
"No. We can accept children over the age of two only. Infants are housed separately because it is safer for them health wise." I'm grateful, I don't think Ana's heart could take the sight of an orphaned baby. I don't know if mine could either.
As we walk around other little faces peek out and then dash away, giggling at a game I'm not privy to but am somehow a part of. Minute by minute I find myself less concerned with the affections of Prince Carl and more aware of the crumbling walls and rickety furniture. With a crooked finger I call Jamodo over.
"I want this place completely redone by my next visit. Walls fixed, floors patched, mattresses replaced, linens that are adequate. As hard as they're trying, this is not how children should be living." He taps away on his tablet with a grin and then makes his way outside, no doubt to call headquarters with the beginnings of a plan but I call him back. "When this one is done, move on to the next. And the next after that. You get my drift here?"
For close to an hour I watch in amazement as Ana and a few of our party, including an uncharacteristically personable Prescott, sit cross legged on the white linoleum and play with each child brave enough to step forward. Despite being orphaned, these children live lives that are filled with joy and hope. They have hope because they have been given a home and caretakers who love them. It's astounding, really. They have few possessions and just enough food but they're happy and content because they have exactly what they need.
Ana notices nothing except the faces in front of her until Joy calls the children for lunch. She comes to me then and wraps her arms around my neck, resting her forehead against the steady beat of my heart. "Thank you for bringing me here."
"I should have done this years ago." I'm angry at myself. Why had I not thought to branch out and do more? I could have accomplished so much in the last few years.
"Are you alright?" She whispers while we eat with the kids, a simple meal of rice and sweet potato. I nod and give her a tight smile. I know what she's referring to but I'm not willing to talk about it here or anywhere for that matter. One by one they come over to us and take turns sitting next to us. One little girl seems especially enamored with Prince Carl but they are all curious about Ana's hair. She lets them play with it and laughs with them when they pull a curl straight and watch it bounce back up.
These kids, these small children with innocent eyes and hopeful giggles are in many ways no different than I was. I have avoided the similarities as much as I could but here, they stare back at me as if they know that we share similar beginnings. One orphaned heart knows the other.
The difference is that I was sent an angel in the form of a doctor who took me home, cleaned me up and loved me unconditionally even when I refused to love her back. I was given the gift of a permanent home with a family. Without thinking my hand reaches in my pants pocket for my phone and finds my mom's cell number, my thumb hovering over the call button next to the name 'Grace'. I should change it to read 'mom'. In my head I do a quick time calculation and ultimately say 'fuck it' before hitting the green circle and ducking out into the courtyard.
"Christian? Are you alright?" My heart squeezes, is it so unusual for me to call her that she thinks something must be wrong if I do? You have been a shitty son. I can change that. I will change that.
"Fine, mom. I was just hoping to schedule a time we could go out for dinner again. I thought maybe we could make that a habit." She gasps and stifles a sob before excitedly agreeing. "Great, I'll have Andrea hook up with you today for some time next week then. I'd do it myself but I don't have my calendar with me…"
"It's fine, sweetie. How is Anastasia?" I shield my eyes from the blazing sun and smile up towards the blue sky and white clouds. How is Anastasia?
"Perfect. She's great."
"Tell her we said hello, we'd love to have you all over for dinner when you get back. I know you have the wedding for her friend this upcoming weekend but maybe Thursday?"
"I'll get back to you on it. And mom," She's quiet, waiting for the rest of what I have to say. "thank you. I'll see you when we get back." Coward. The bitterness of my own thoughts rip at me but I stop myself and force myself to think differently. I called her, I reached out, I said thank you. Next time I'll tell her why.
Inside the house is quiet while the younger children settle in for naps and the older kids resume their studies. I can't find Ana or the prince anywhere and a moment of sheer panic sets in until I hear a soft voice singing a song I recognize immediately. In a room at the top of the stairs I find her, a two year old boy in nothing more than a diaper curled in her lap and sucking his thumb staring up at her as she rocks him, one white finger stroking softly down his ebony skin.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night…
Take these broken wings and learn to fly…
All your life…
You were only waiting for this moment to arrive…
My world becomes so small then, so singularly focused on the woman rocking this child to sleep that I can't feel my limbs or the beat of my heart anymore. The air is sucked out of my lungs and replaced with a searing heat that stings the back of my eye lids.
I can't take this away from her.
I can never ask her to forgo motherhood for me and what almost cripples me as I lean against that crumbling wall is the realization that I don't want to. I want this with her. This peace that has settled in this room, the glow on her face as she loves on a child that isn't her own, one she will most likely never see again.
She was made for this. And I was made for her.
The defining moment of my life is broken by a ding on my phone, alerting me to an email that is so unimportant to me right now that I consider quitting GEH altogether so that I can focus on the next chapter of my life. She raises her eyes and smiles, big and genuine and content.
"Shh! I just got him to sleep!" Without looking I flick my phone off and walk to her, amazed that she can't read the absolute shift in me. It feels so profound, so complete that surely there was a physical change as well. She just grins and looks down before standing and walking the tiny boy to his crib where she places him on his side and covers him with a light blanket so tenderly it makes the ball of emotion in my throat sting.
"Is it time to go?"
I've heard people say, 'I saw my children in her eyes' and I've always thought it was the dumbest bit of poetry there was. But when she looks at me with that baby in the crib next to her I do. I see her round and waddling, laughing at a faceless child running towards us in the grass, folding tiny jeans and hanging up construction paper projects that are ugly to anyone but a mother.
How? How did I get here? How did we get here? How do I get there? To a house on the Sound filled with a wife and...kids. My kids. With Ana. My kids with Ana. I may faint.
"Christian, do we need to go?" With great effort I swallow and answer her with a whisper so as not to wake the baby.
"Yes, I need to tie up a few things at the office here and then we'll head to the plane." She tucks her hand in mine and lets me lead her out to the waiting vans where we say goodbye to our hosts. In the van she pays no attention to Prince Carl and instead talks my ear off about the things that need to be done to improve the living conditions of the kids in that home.
Every word she says, everything she suggests will be done, I'll make sure of it. This is the way I like her, excited and focused, driven and determined. This is her spirit, the very essence of the woman I love and I will nurture it and cherish it and encourage it until the day I die.
APOV
The excitement of the morning and afternoon fall on my shoulders and crash around me as soon as I'm alone in the hotel room. Here I stand in an opulent room, wearing $400 capri's about to board a private jet back to a seven million dollar apartment and there are children less than ten miles away who have nothing but the shirt on their backs and a lone doll. It's unfair to compare, I realize that but I do it anyway.
Being here, in a country where women are considered second class, on a continent where rape is prevalent and counselling for it is all but non-existent, has clarified a few things for me.
I'm blessed. Lucky. Fortunate. Priveledged. At my disposal are countless organizations that advocate for my rights as a woman, organizations who focus soley on healing women who have been victimized, organizations who fight for justice even when I don't ask for it. It's bad enough being a victim. It's another thing to be a victim and not have anyone help you navigate the pain of it.
Hyde is nothing. Morton is nothing. They are worthless pieces of shit who will not ever have any influence in my life again. I will take the lessons I learned from my experiences and I will use them to keep myself safe and to make the necessary changes in my self-esteem but they will never again be a barometer to my well-being.
I pack our suitcases myself, insisting to the maid assigned to us that I'd rather do it before sending her off with a smile and a few extra dollars for her trouble. I've learned a lot about myself on this trip and I want a moment of privacy to reflect. I came here excited to get another stamp in my passport, giddy at the prospect of meeting a president and a prince but I leave here with a much deeper awareness of the world itself and of myself.
When Christian comes back to shower and change he strides to me with open arms, twirling me around and pressing a hard kiss to my forehead.
"He gave us the money. Half a billion dollars over the next five years. And he's promised to reach out to other monarchy's and world leaders on behalf of Feed the Nations." His excitement is greater than any I've seen for any other deal and I rejoice with him, toasting with lukewarm coffee in porcelain mugs. Half a billion dollars. Just like that.
By the time we get to the tarmac I'm exhausted so Christian lifts me out of the car and carries me to the plane, buckling me into the seat next to him. After we take off Nanette brings out caprese salad and wine, a precursor to our dinner of shrimp fra diavolo.
"You had a good time?" He asks with curious eyes, tearing a hot roll in half and swiping the remaining sauce off of my plate.
"It was great. Emotionally draining but I also feel recharged at the same time." I shift so that my feet are nestled between his legs and we stretch, sipping our chilled Pinot Grigio to the tune of Ella Fitzgerald's 'All of Me'. His head falls back and his eyes close.
"I know exactly what you mean. It's hard to immerse yourself in a culture so unlike your own and then justify your life afterwards." He says no more, he gets it, I can feel it. A few minutes later his hand snakes onto my knee and he rubs my calf in long sure strokes.
"That boy you rocked to sleep, what was his name?" A sharp pang of sadness hits me but I hide it well. I know he struggled to bring me there in the first place and adding my emotions to his list of things to worry about is not something I'm willing to do.
"Timothy." My throat constricts and my palms sweat at the understanding that he will most likely never have parents who will love him. Christian is watching me, I can feel the burn of his gaze but I keep my eyes closed and rest my head against the window as he plays with my fingers.
"You want that. A child." My throat burns with emotion, my eyes burn with unshed tears and my face burns with a blush that I'm hoping he doesn't see in the dimmed cabin. I will not force children on him but I will not forfeit my dream either.
"Yes. I do." I look at him then, one tear sliding down my cheek, quickly followed by another and another and another. I know I may lose him because of this and the fear of that loss terrifies me. His thumbs sweep away the salty lines that just won't stop. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying like this."
"Ana. You will make an amazing mother and I can't wait to see it." I must look confused because he grins and sucks a tear off of his finger. "I can't guarantee I'll be a good dad but I want to try. With you." Inside my stomach clenches so painfully I gasp.
"You said you didn't want children. Ever."
"I also said I was incapable of love and had no heart or soul but you have shot those theories right out of the water."
"Christian." I start, pulling my feet underneath me so that I can straddle him and hold his face to mine. "I would never, ever, ever want you to have kids if you were unsure. I would never ask that of you." His hand cups my face and those grey eyes, so soft and open and truthful stare back at me.
"I know. I'd never thought of it before but I have a lot since…our little scare…and gradually the idea grew on me. But today, when I saw you rocking that little boy, my entire world changed. I can't describe it since I don't fully understand it but I'm willing to at least allow myself the idea of children one day." In my chest is a swarm of butterflies beating their wings to get out. I'm so happy I'm giddy.
"Well I think you'll make a great dad. One day. Like, years down the road." He laughs and grips my hips, pulling me forward onto the bulge in his pants that suddenly has me hot with desire. "Take me in the back." I whisper into his ear before I nip at his lobe and tug. He rolls his head back on a groan and pushes up. I'm still a little sore from yesterday but he misses my grimace since he's sucking on the tender flesh of my neck.
He may think he wasn't obvious with that early morning session but I've known him and his tendencies long enough now to know that he was working out his jealousy by using my body. I loved every second of it. He wasn't punishing me or even taking out his aggression. He was claiming me and I let him with open legs and moans of pleasure.
"I would like for nothing more than to take you back there and practice baby making but I need to get on a call with Ros in," he glances at his watch, a black leather banded Tag Heuer, "three minutes. She says it's urgent."
When he stands he discreetly adjusts himself with a wink and I give him the best pout I can muster up before he walks to his office. I've been checking emails on a regular basis and have kept myself abreast of Steele Translation issues even though I was halfway across the globe. Missy has found a viable candidate to hire for the Western European languages that we can't seem to keep up with and as a bonus, she's also fluent in Hebrew. The contract we signed with the Israeli Tourism Board has morphed into a much larger project and her help will be necessary.
Kate has sent me five different pictures of dresses she wants my opinion on for Missy and Logan's wedding this Friday night. As weddings tend to do, the original plan of elopement between two individuals has morphed into a 125 person guest list, floral arrangements and a banquet hall rental. My idea of hell.
I'm not at all surprised when Christian tells me this will only be his third wedding he's ever attended, the other two being for cousins a few years ago.
"I showed up for the vows, stayed for the first dance and left right after I dropped a fat check into that birdcage thing they use to collect cards." He'd said as he slipped gold cufflinks into his shirt, hair brushed back, slick and wet. It would dry, as it always does, a just fucked mess but for a brief few moments after each shower he looks like an actual GQ model, right down to the perfect patch of hair on his chest.
"Well, this time you're not doing that. Prepare to stay until the rice is thrown, Grey." He grinned and turned to zip my shift dress, letting his fingers graze up my back to tease and stimulate.
"Will there be dancing?"
"Yup. A DJ."
"I prefer bands but so long as I can dance with my girl all night, I'll stay as long as you want." My girl. Whenever he calls me that the blood in my body rushes between my legs and turns me into a wet mess. I've never told him this but I think he may have figured it out when I dropped to my knees and pulled his boxer briefs down before lifting my dress and dragging him to the dresser in the closet.
"Fuck." He'd said between thrusts, my high heeled feet up around his ears. "What did I say to spur this?"
The memory makes me smile and I email Kate back my choice for her dress and then send her a link to the shoes I've chosen. We won't be bridesmaids since Missy's not having any, thank god, but she does want us to sit in the second row as 'guests of honor' so Kate, Lisa, Heather and myself are trying to find dresses in the same color as a symbol of unity.
Kate was dead set on red, even though I told her the wives tale that wearing red to a wedding meant you had slept with the groom, until her eyes landed on a gold sequined Badgley Mischka cocktail dress that Caroline had set aside for me.
"Perfect." She breathed, fingering the material and taking a picture of it with her phone to send to Lisa and Heather to match. "Her colors are gold and light blue."
Five hours later I've translated four different documents and have answered all of my emails when Nanette brings me a cobb salad and an iced tea.
"Is Mr. Grey still in his office?"
"Yes. I've heard a bit of shouting over the last few hours." I've heard nothing over the music coming out of my ear pods but when I turn, I see that Taylor and Sawyer are missing as well. This can't be good. For a few minutes I debate whether or not to go into the office but ultimately decide that if he wanted me he'd have come for me so I eat in silence and read the last chapter of 'Gone Girl'.
When another hour passes and nobody has emerged I head to the bathroom and then knock on the door to his office, holding his salad in front of me. Sawyer opens the door and puts a finger to his lips. Carrick and a voice I don't recognize are speaking in clipped and harsh sentences but stop when Christian informs them that I'm now in the office.
"Hi, baby. Need something?" His face is tight and pinched. Gone is the relaxation he had when we boarded the plane and I wrestle with wanting to stay and wanting to go. Whatever is going on, he doesn't want me to be a part of it so I put the salad down and hand him a bottle of water, waving to the guys and quietly shutting the door behind me. Inside the voices resume, hushed.
I know this is about me and in my subconscious I know that it's about Hyde. My heart begins to beat to a frantic rhythm that makes my fingers tingle. But as soon as the fear starts, it ends. I will not be held hostage by him anymore. My decision made, I go back to my seat and pull up a few more documents to bang out for the Chinese deal. An email from Andrea pops up.
-Check the calendar for Friday 10am-
It's easy to log onto Christian's schedule since Andrea manages both of ours right now so that we can be in sych. Sure as shit, on Friday at ten am is Mona Turshe's name. I type back a question, already knowing the answer.
-I thought you said once a month? This is only two weeks later-
-Competition-
I'll get no more out of her. She does work for Christian but she is a woman and as I'm slowly finding out, a remarkable one at that. At least once a week she and I sit down for lunch in my office and go over the necessary points on the Chinese deal and to schedule the next weeks calls and meetings between Steele Translations and the acquisitions team at GEH. Each meeting somehow evolves into a gab fest, complete with inappropriate jokes and gossip. I'd like to invite her and her boyfriend over for dinner but Christian nixed that idea before I had finished the question.
I've had about as much as I can deal with as far as work goes and while I'd like to sleep in the bedroom, I know we'll be landing in DC in about two hours and will have to wake for that anyway so instead I crack open another book and steal another glance at the closed office door.
CPOV
"Dad? Welch said it was urgent?" He breathes in deeply and I sit, steeling myself for what I'm now sure is going to be one hell of a conversation.
"Yes and no. Our contact with the public defender's office called earlier today to tell me that Hyde is planning on pleading not guilty when he stands before the judge next week. He's claiming that he and Ana had a consensual sexual relationship while she was working for SIP and that it continued even after you and she started dating. In fact, he claims that he was on his way to Aspen per her request."
Blood is rushing to my temples at an alarming rate as rage manifests itself in the form of rapid heartbeats and sky rocketing blood pressure. Taylor hasn't moved but Sawyer shifts from one foot to the next, obviously angry.
"He claims…that he had…sex…with Ana?"
"Yes. And he claims he has a picture to prove it." The blood erupts in my skull, pounding out in waves of fury that leave streaks of red across my vision.
"Impossible." I sputter, unable to formulate a full rebuttal.
"Our guy's seen the picture. Says that while it's not obvious, it definitely does look like her even though you can only see part of the girls face. It's taken…from behind so it's not exactly a smoking gun but it was compelling enough for his attorney to agree to a not guilty plea."
Taylor's eyes blaze in fury that I'm sure doesn't match my own but comes close. He has to know the truth since Gail is the one that washed the sheets the next morning. I saw the way he looked at me a few days later, like he couldn't believe that me, of all people, would bed a virgin.
"Dad, I'm telling you, it's not possible that she had sex with him."
"How can you be so sure, Christian? And don't get me wrong, I don't doubt you or her but that picture needs to be discredited somehow. I need as much information as possible when I have lunch with the DA tomorrow."
Inside I debate whether or not to tell him. As an attorney for 35 plus years I'm sure he's been privy to a lot of secrets but this one is about his future daughter in law and one she should be deciding to tell or not. My fingers pinch my nose until I smell the metallic scent of blood before I speak again.
"Dad, give me a few hours here. Can you send the picture to me?"
"I don't have it but I've already requested a copy of it. It's with the defenders office so it's not an easy pull but I'll do what I can."
"Will this affect the case? Will people actually believe this shit?"
"In all honesty, if he can prove that he had a relationship with her, then yes, it will absolutely affect the case. He can explain away everything but the attack on Sawyer and until you get those other women to press charges, he can explain that away as rough sex."
"Fuck! How the fuck did this happen?" I pace, a mere four feet each way and curse being stuck in the sky during this particular moment in time. I need to get in the gym and beat the shit out of a bag. "Hold on dad, I want to get Ray's guy on the line. I think that maybe he can help get us a copy of that picture. Give me a few minutes to have Welch connect the call."
Shit. Ray. He will go fucking ballistic when he hears this. It takes Welch almost 20 minutes to get him on the line and connect all four calls to a central untraceable location. 'David', as I now know him, listens intently and then offers his advise.
"My expertise is finding and flushing out criminals. I don't gather evidence and in this case, it would be impossible anyway. I can work on the women you want to come forward but even then, because of the subject matter, I won't make any promises. I don't force victims. Period."
Ana comes in then, the light blue sun dress pressed against her chest where she holds a salad and a drink for me. I can't even act like everything is ok right now and I'm sure she knows that whatever is going on has something to do with her but she leaves with a tense smile and shuts the door.
Once we've terminated the call I dial Welch again on a line that is known only to me, him and Taylor.
"Find someone in that jail that can convince this asshole that going to trial is not in his best interest." He says nothing but ends the call. Taylor and Sawyer each nod once in agreement. Shit, I had forgotten Sawyer was in the room. "It's unusual for me to go this route, I've not had to before…" I begin to explain but he holds his hand up to stop me.
"I'd do the same thing, Sir." The men leave me alone then to work but I can't get my mind into anything. I know she was a virgin, I know she never so much as touched him but the implication that he was with her burns a hole right through me. I'm jealous over a lie.
For forty more minutes I sit and stew until I finally relent and call Dr. Flynn. Naturally, in a moment of deep need he's unavailable so I'm left to my own devices. Methodically I pull out every lesson I've learned over the last few years and apply it to the rage seeping from my pores right now. Flynn and I have touched on my jealousy but we've never really gotten to the heart of it so I'm left to do that on my own, right now, in this cylinder in the middle of the sky.
It takes awhile to talk myself off the ledge. I've done god knows how many push ups and pull ups and I've counted to 100 three times but it's only when I relive the moment I made love to Ana for the first time that finally works. The small wince of pain that flashed across her face, the way her breath caught in her throat before it morphed into a small cry that I caught with my mouth. The way her thighs glistened with pink streaks where her blood and my cum had mixed.
...the scotch doesn't hurt either.
She's curled up in the oversized leather seat, ear buds in with a book in front of her but she notices me immediately and sits up, shutting the book and turning off her music.
"Hi. Are you ok?" My hand finds hers and pulls her up so that I can bury my face in her hair, the brown curls tickling my nose when I inhale.
"I am now." I sit and pull her onto my lap, my face still covered by her hair while she runs her fingernails gently up and down my neck, stopping to circle my ears with every other stroke. "There was a development with Hyde." Her hands stop but then she exhales slowly and resumes her touches, silently encouraging me to talk.
"He's decided to plead not guilty at the hearing next week."
"How is that even possible? There is so much against him!"
"He claims that you had a sexual relationship with him that ended only because he got caught on his way to Aspen." Her body goes rigid in my lap but she says nothing. "I know that's not true since I'm the only man you've ever been with. I'd like to explain that to my father, not because he believes Hyde but because he should have all the pieces in front of him when he sits down with the DA."
"So you'd have to tell him I was a virgin until you and you'd have to tell him how you saw the proof of that?" She gasps a sob and covers her face in embarrassment.
"I won't unless you say it's ok but Ana, there is no shame in having been a virgin when we met." I snort. "For fucks sake if anything it's something you should be proud of." Slowly her head nods and she wipes her nose on her sleeve.
"I know. You can tell him. I'm not ashamed, I just don't want my sex life being talked about at all."
"I know the feeling." After a pregnant pause I continue with the biggest of the bombs to land in her lap. "He claims he has a picture of you and he…doing it."
"What? How? How can that be possible?" She's trembling in my arms, her lashes dark with tears born of fear and violation. This fucker is going to pay. One way or the other, he's a dead man.
"It's not. It's got to be doctored. I've got someone getting a copy of it and we'll take it from there. He's not getting out so don't worry about it. I'm all over it, my father's all over it, Taylor and Sawyer are all over it." She calms down when I play with her hair, something I learned from watching Mia with her girlfriends when we all lived at home. She's got half of it up in one of those clip things so I take it out and run my fingers down the nape of her neck all the way to the tips of her curls, gently tugging them until they're straight. After a few minutes she melts against me, as relaxed as I'm going to get her at this point.
"Your hair is so long." I murmur and she reaches for it and pulls it over her shoulder, studying the ends with a scowl.
"I was thinking about cutting it."
"No. Absolutely not. I will be seriously bent if you cut your hair, Anastasia." She gives me a death glare and flings it over her shoulder as she stands.
"It's my hair. Do you want a drink?" What?
"Ah...No?" What am I supposed to say right now? She's mad but asking me if I want a drink. I've seen this play out with my parents when I lived at home so I mimic what Carrick did. I stay quiet and still. When she comes back she sits across from me instead of next to me and settles back with her arms crossed. I don't move.
"You realize you just told me that my stalker slash attacker has a doctored picture of me having sex and then demanded that I not cut my hair? You are such an idiot sometimes, Grey." I'm confused, what does one have to do with the other? Do I answer? Apologize? Play it down? Laugh it off? She rolls her eyes again and despite me being in the wrong here, my palms itch.
Playroom. Soon. Necessary.
"This would be the part of the conversation where you say, 'I'm sorry, Ana. I should have been more sensitive'." So I do because I am sorry. But I'm also still confused.
"I forgive you. Now, about my hair. It's mine. On my head. It grows out of my body. Do we need to have the whole, 'my body, my decision' conversation again?"
"Ana. Yes it's yours, yes I get that it's your body and ultimately your decision but I love your hair. I like the way it feels on my chest when we're sleeping. I like the way it bounces when you walk. I like the way you put it up in those sexy as hell messy knots and I fucking love the way it looks spread out underneath you when I'm fucking you." She smiles and bites that mother fucking bottom lip.
"Well, that's what you should have said then." She ties it up in a messy bun and winks once she cracks her book back open. "I'll just trim it then."
What the fuck just happened?
In DC Regina joins us in the cabin for dinner while we refuel and while this is a first for me, it's pleasant enough. When I come back from a quick trip to the bathroom, she and Ana are laughing like old friends.
"Prince Carl? More like Your Majesty the Beautiful. When I picked him up in Stockholm he came onto the plane and I nearly passed out. Oh! Sir, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were standing there."
"No problem, Regina. I'm just sorry you couldn't fly him home." Yeah, yeah, so he's good looking. I get it. It's a face, much like mine. But can he fuck like a god? Does the size of his cock make women fear him? Didn't think so. That would be me.
Ana stays silent but smiling through this awkward exchange and then moves the conversation back to a safe topic. Regina is spellbound while she sits and listens to her recount the visit to the orphanage and slowly blows out a long held breath when she finishes.
"Sounds like you found your niche there, Anastasia." Ana's head snaps back a bit and she frowns in thought. Regina looks at her and raises her brows slightly. "Kids, healthcare, education. Mr. Grey's got the food part down, you can focus on the other important things." She stutters when neither of us say anything.
"I…I'm sorry. I'm being presumptuous and I shouldn't be. I'm going to check on the ground crew and wake Nanette so we can get moving. Thank you for dinner."
When she walks away Ana gives me a wide eyed 'what is your problem' look.
"She's an employee, Ana. I don't want to hear about her latest crush."
"She's also a human being whom I happen to like. You know, you can have employees and still be friendly with them. It won't hurt, I promise."
"No. I'm just fine operating the way I've been operating." Nanette clears our plates and we strap in for the flight. She's got her nose buried in her book again so I take mine out to read as well but after a few pages I just can't stop myself.
"What did you think of him?" I don't need to tell her who 'him' is since I'm sure she knows already. One corner of her mouth lifts up and she slowly closes the book, turning to face me just as Regina announces that we can move about freely.
"I thought he was nice and friendly and kind. And yes, he's very handsome but next to you he looks like Sloth from the Goonies." I laugh and pull her towards me, kissing the top of her head before releasing her.
"He does seem to be a true humanitarian. You know he approached me about getting involved? I'd never even heard of him and call me stupid but I didn't realize Sweden still had a monarchy so when Jamodo told me his office had called I was skeptical. But here we are, five months later with a deal, signed in ink."
"What made him contact you? Why your organization?"
"I asked him that at dinner when you were chatting with the president. By the way, you were fucking amazing, baby. I was seriously impressed with you." Damn that blush just makes me horny.
"Anyway, I don't know the whole backstory but one of the women who worked as a nanny for his family was from Congo and she told them stories about her life at home. When he got older he began to get involved in humanitarian efforts in the area she was from but the corruption was so great that he stopped. A few months ago he hired a company to find out where his money would be best served and they pointed him to Feed the Nations."
"And here we are."
"And here we are." I repeat with a smile.
"I'm going to go lay down, I've got an interview with a potential employee a few hours after we land so I need to rest." My dick tingles with anticipation but she cocks her head to the side, accurately reading my face. "To sleep. Just to sleep." And then she walks down the aisle.
But two seconds later she comes back, leans down and whispers, "But I can give you five minutes for a quickie if you're up for it." I'm up and out of my seat in record time.
Exactly four minutes and nine seconds later we're both panting on the mattress. I'm still fully dressed as is Ana, we just pushed the clothes that were in the way to the side and went at it like high schoolers. Her hips rise as she adjusts her panties and pulls down her dress and then she rolls to her side and traces the contours of my face.
"You know," she starts with a soft voice, "part of my hesitation in becoming fully immersed in your life," she pauses and looks at me but I know what she means. Becoming my wife. "Is because your wealth intimidates me. I don't understand it. On some level I think it's all so stupid. To have so much when others have so little. But this week, I saw what your hard work can do and it wasn't about the latest car or the shiniest jewelry, it was about helping others." Her hand stops to rest on my chest, and the sheer ability for her touch me like this, for me to want her touch me like this, makes that damn ball in my throat reappear.
"You could have done nothing. You could have just spent your cash on yourself or hoarded it like so many others do but you chose to spend it freely on people that can give you nothing in return." Her eyes fill with tears that spill over on a soft sigh. "It made me fall in love with you even more and I didn't think that was possible. I wish," she says and then lays her head down on my shoulder, her hand tracing the buttons of my shirt, " I wish that you saw yourself the way that I see you."
"I feel it, Ana. More and more every day I understand a little more why you see me the way you do." And it's the truth. I'll never be totally rid of the demons that have chased me since I was born, I've accepted that. I will probably always struggle with rejection and a fear of abandonment but so long as I can have this life we're building together, I can be happy.
"Regina's right you know. Being over there and seeing the need so vividly in front of me. Sitting with children who's health hangs in a precarious balance with little hope should they get sick, I'm changed. How could I not be?" She sits straight up and fixes her just fucked hair.
"Did you know that 95% of the hospitals in Liberia were destroyed and not rebuilt after the war ended? 95 percent, Christian! That's not acceptable. It's just not." And in this moment, I can see the life we'll live together unfold in front of me. It's as obvious as the nose on my face. The seed of passion has been planted and knowing Ana, she'll water it and groom it and nurture it until it's a tree that bears fruit.
"I'm going to be spending a lot of your money, Christian. Like, a lot of it. You ok with that?" I chuckle because of all the ways I expected a woman to spend my fortune, it was never like this. But Ana isn't just a woman. She is a force of nature. A force of change.
"I mean, of course I'll use my own too and we'll get our friends and your rich business associates to help as well but we'll start with you and the Prince and me. You ok with that?"
And because I have to kiss her or I'll die, I reach up and pull her down, kissing those lips that proclaim such goodness and then smile back at her.
"Anastasia Steele, I will spend every last penny I have if it makes you happy. I will sell every property, every piece of art, every company if it means you'll be like this for the rest of your life."
"God!" She says and then throws herself backwards, her dress riding up far enough for me to see her yellow panties. "You are fucking amazing. You make me so happy it's gross!" She scrambles onto her knees and reaches for my zipper. "Now, I have to blow you!"