APOV
Oh shit. Here it is, this is when my 29 year old boyfriend strokes out for good.
"Mia, it's a long story and not one I want to tell right now." His eyes are closed, his head back, his hands still on my ankles. Her curiosity quickly morphs into open concern and then anger. Despite the fact that he refuses to look at her, she hasn't taken her eyes off of him.
"Does Elliot know?" She spits out, banging her hand on the patio table.
"Mia." Grace chides softly, picking at her brownie before looking at Carrick and pleading with him to do something. He inhales slowly, nods once and watches Christian. The reality is, eventually she's going to find out. She's an adult and one of nine people in his entire life he can really trust. At first I anticipate this ending horribly, angrily even but he shocks the hell out of me and sighs loudly before standing.
"Walk with me, Mia." Her eyes grow large as she stands and makes her way to the steps that lead down to the backyard. "Ana." I look and his hand is extended to me, palm up. I take it without hesitation and let him lead the way.
No one says anything for quite some time until finally we're all sitting on the dock, legs dangling over the side like little kids.
"Remember when we were kids and you told me Michael Myers lived under this dock?" He chuckles and tugs at her hair.
"He does." His arms support his weight when he leans back and smiles at a memory of his youth. I love these moments, when he can look back and see the good and not just the ugly. "Do you remember when me and Elliot would compete to see who could piss the furthest from the dock? And you'd have to be the judge?"
"Ugh. Yes. I thought it was so cool that you could pee standing up. Remember when I tried to pee on the tree by the boathouse with you guys?" He grabs his side and lies flat, laughing so hard his face turns red. She watches him with amazement and joy.
"Yes! But you just pissed your leg. Oh shit, I'd forgotten about that." When the laughter slows he sighs, a breathy 'whew' and a wipe of the eyes before I hear him take a deep breath. I'm not a religious person but I offer up a silent prayer anyway. I figure, at this point, it can't hurt.
"Elena Lincoln molested me when I was 15." Mia gasps, sits up and turns towards him, her face contorted in confusion. Over and over her mouth opens but no sound comes out and then she bursts into tears. Christian remains on his back but moves to cover his face with his forearm. What he just said, molested, floors me. It's the first time I've heard him say it without being prodded to do so and the first time I felt that he understood the truth of it.
"Mo...mo...molested? How? Where? When? I mean, oh my god, Christian! Why didn't you tell me?" He sits up and brushes the hair from her face gently, lifting her chin up so that he can look at her.
"You were seven, Mia Grace. I'm telling you now because I'm sure you'll find out eventually and I'd rather it be from me than from anyone else. As to the specifics, I'd rather leave that part private. Mom and Dad know the basics but what I will share is that it happened repeatedly, in part because I didn't see it as wrong at the time. I know now that it was very very wrong and I'm ashamed of my part in it."
Her hand reaches back as if to slap him and he flinches but she just touches the side of his face and then cries again, the sound guttural and heart wrenching. I wasn't in the room when he told Elliot or his parents but I imagine their reactions weren't so different. For him to do this three times now, four if you count me, is remarkable.
Her body bends forward on itself, arms wrapped tightly around her waist and shakes until he reaches out one flat hand and rests it between her shoulders. With renewed tears she leans against him, turning her face into his arm and wrapping her arms around his neck. How he's not falling apart at this moment I don't know. My own heart feels as if it's been torn from my body watching her react to this horrible revelation.
"I'm sorry, Mia. I really am ashamed to have brought this into our family. Please forgive me." She smacks his arm then, hard, and then furiously wipes her tear stained face.
"How can you say that? You have nothing to be ashamed of! You were a kid. Oh my god, you were a kid! We have to kill her. We have to do something to make her suffer and then we need to kill her. Elliot will help, I know he will, I'll call him right now." I'm pretty sure she's serious but Christian continues to smile sadly. His face is flushed with embarrassment despite being told, by everybody now, that he has nothing to be ashamed of. For the rest of his life, he will fight the humiliation of being made a victim no matter how many hours he sits in Flynn's chair.
"Mia, I'm already handling it but the way I'm doing it will ensure the most painful thing ever for her. Loss of control and power in her own life. So trust me on this. As to doing something, I'm begging you to do nothing. Tell no one, not even Ethan for now. Maybe later…when I've got this whole thing figured out you can talk to him about it but for now it stays between the Grey's and Ana."
She looks up with tear stained blue eyes and blinks, seeing me sitting next to him for the first time.
"You. You knew." Is she angry? "You got him to talk about it, that's why he's so changed." Her hand covers her mouth on a gasp. "That's why she hates you so much." Another wave of tears hits her hard and she reaches for Christian who embraces her without a second thought and rocks her on the dock. Against his neck I hear her muffled voice, "She saved you, Christian."
Now that the hard part is over, at least for this moment, I feel like an outsider. While he shushes her and kisses her temple over and over I quietly walk towards the house leaving them to figure out this new direction their relationship has taken. In the house Gretchen is finishing the dishes but she's kind enough to me at this point to smile. Her battle has been lost and she knows it. What's the point in harboring anger when you've got no claim on it anyway?
"Hi Gretchen. Do you know where Mr. and Mrs. Grey went?"
"I believe they're in the family room. The room with the piano and the pool table."
"Thank you."
On the couch are Grace and Carrick, watching some show on hippos in Africa. She's curled into him, a tissue clutched in her hand, eyes on the window that overlooks the back yard. His arm is around her in a comfortable gesture that speaks to years of familiarity and a quiet protection that makes me long for parents who love each other like they do. I hate to intrude and I'm certainly not going to talk about what just transpired at the dock so I wander the downstairs, studying pictures of a younger Christian. A lot of them are just how he described himself. Aloof, distant, uninterested. But occasionally there's a picture of him smiling or laughing and even a few of him looking excited about something.
After a while I realize that any picture of him happy is larger than the rest. Whether it's intentional or not I don't know but I do know that I will be getting Grace a picture of him laughing soon. She deserves that much. On the bookshelf in one of the three family rooms is a silver framed picture of Christian as a sophomore in high school. This would have been taken right after she started abusing him.
What started out as curiosity morphs into pain as I study the picture of a young boy in a white button down shirt. He's not smiling but he's not frowning either. His eyes are beautiful but blank, his skin tanned but dull. That unruly hair that I love so much is just the same but on this day he'd made an attempt to control it and had lost that battle. Fifteen is awfully young when you stare at it in the face.
"There you are." Hands chilled from being outside wrap around my waist and pull me against him. I know he's looking at his picture and I know he's thinking the same thing I just was. On a sigh his nose buries itself into my hair, the sadness he fights so well emanating off of him behind me. "I've been looking for you for a few minutes, I was afraid you'd run off."
"Never, Christian. I'm not leaving no matter what crazy comes our way." Turning I brush his hair off of his forehead and kiss the hollow of his throat, pushing myself against his strong unyielding chest. "How are you?"
He answers with a snort. "Shitty. It started out a great day but it's just fallen apart at this point. I want to go home, you ready?"
Our goodbye's are strained but gracious. Mia's already in her room, Christian walked her there after they left the dock and made her promise to go right to bed and not cry over him for one more second. If he believes that will actually happen he's an idiot. I have no doubt that Mia Grey is sobbing into a pink pillow right now, the ugly truth of how the world really is having just knocked on her door.
The only person that seems unaffected by the drama is Carrick. I'm not sure if it's his occupation or the fact that he's a grown man and always sipping on a drink but he does a damn good job of holding his family together. Mother and father walk us to the door and wave goodbye as if tonight was a normal Sunday night but the minute our feet hit the driveway Grace beelines for the stairs to check on Mia.
"Are you alright to drive?" He rolls his eyes and gently steers me towards the open door. He's back to brooding and angry Christian now. I want to demand that he tell me everything about Elena's visit and then chastise him for not telling me right away but his mood is downright hostile so I remain silent for as long as I can. His mood swings leave me with emotional whiplash sometimes.
"Did you tell Mia everything?" I venture softly, treating him like a caged animal ready to strike. His eyes remain on the road, one hand on the steering wheel while the other one taps out a rapid beat on the gear shift.
"Of course not. She doesn't need to know all that shit, Ana. Use your head." Such simple words said with such animosity. They sting but I don't acknowledge them and instead opt to keep the peace.
"I only ask because your mom and dad are going to talk to her and I don't want them saying something they shouldn't."
"You think I didn't think of that? I told them all I told her was that we started…doing it when I was 15 and that it ended a few years later and that it took a while for me to see the damage and the derangement and now I hate her. They'll be careful. My parents are the picture of discretion."
I want to ask about Elena's visit but I don't. I want to berate him for not telling me but I don't. I want to ask exactly what he and Mia spoke about once I left but I don't. I've seen Christian angry a handful of times but it was never at me directly. Even the night he was rough with me, his animosity was for someone else but this feels different. I feel like somehow I'm the problem.
Just before we pull into Escala he speaks.
"You have two freckles on your right shoulder. My dad had his guy look at the picture Hyde has, that was the phone call he got at dinner. There's no freckles on that girl. I'm hoping to avoid it but you may need to submit a photo of your back before Tuesday."
All those old feelings of being annoying and in the way come rushing back full speed. This is why he's angry at me. This whole Hyde thing has gone on long enough and he's still having to protect me and deal with the legal ramifications. I've become a burden.
Once the car is parked he leans his head back, closes his eyes and pinches his nose. "I'll take care of it, Ana."
"Christian, I'll deal with"
"No. You won't. I will take care of it." He's annoyed when I open my own door and huffs out when I hit the penthouse button in the elevator. We may be in the same small space but he's a million miles away right now.
When the doors open he motions for me to walk out and speaks when we get to the hallway.
"I'm going to work in my office for a few hours."
"Do you want me to bring you coffee or something?" He doesn't even pause, just shoots a 'no thank you' over his shoulder and disappears behind the massive walnut door.
Inside I'm panicking. Is this it? Is this when he finally gets bored of me or realizes how much work it is to have me around? For ten minutes my mind runs, playing out scenario after scenario of him telling me it's over, of me leaving, of what my life will be like without him in it. Empty.
In the shower I successfully fight tears and allow anger to take over instead. I've done nothing wrong here! And if dealing with Hyde is such an issue for him, I'll do it myself. I didn't ask him to do anything anyway. And you know what? I'm not going to allow these old feelings of worthlessness to infiltrate my thoughts. I'm not worthless and I didn't work my ass off for however many years of therapy to let myself backslide. So fuck this, I'm going to go tell him he can go suck it and if he so much as raises his voice to me, I'm out.
I throw on a white tank and yoga pants and march my little butt down to his office but the yelling I hear from behind the doors stops me in my tracks. Who he could be screaming at at this hour is a mystery but it appears to be business because I hear words like 'corporate structure', 'return on capital' and 'clawback'. I can only assume that the poor soul on the other end is attempting to calm Christian down because I hear him yelling, 'not good enough', 'cut the shit' and 'fire them all' until the phone slams down and something hits the wall near the door.
Maybe this isn't the best time to approach him. When I hear footsteps behind me I jump but it's just Taylor.
"Ms. Steele?"
"You're in workout clothes."
"Mr. Grey wants to go to the gym."
"But it's after eleven." He says nothing but stands at the door, ready to knock. He's waiting for me to leave. He must know all about Elena's visit and I'm sure he got a briefing about Mia from Christian once we got home. Taylor knows everything about his life yet I still need to pull teeth to learn about the big stuff.
"I'm going to go to bed. Don't…don't tell him I was here, ok?"
My feet silently turn when he says so softly I have to strain to hear him, "Dinner was very good. It was thoughtful and well received by both of us. Thank you." His attempt at kindness makes me want to cry so I reach out and touch his arm to let him know I appreciate his words.
With a sympathetic nod he knocks and waits. When he hears the barked, 'what' he enters but I'm already halfway down the hall. A few minutes later Christian walks in and stops by the foot of the bed. I swear I can feel the heat of his hand hover over my ankle but I pretend to be asleep even though my heart is racing and I'm fighting tears.
Two minutes later he's changed and out the door, leaving me alone with only the whir of the air-conditioning system. In my heart, I know this isn't all about me. There is something going on inside of him that he doesn't know how to deal with so he is reverting to sullen silence, mood swings and fighting. Thinking about him hurting and keeping it inside pushes me past my emotional tolerance level and I cry for him. To hurt so deeply that you choose isolation over affection...
The door to our bedroom is shut but the muted melody of an intricate song being played on the piano still reaches me. The music is beautiful but the notes are banged out almost angrily. I haven't heard him play at night since the first time we slept together. The memory soothes me and before the song finishes I'm back to sleep.
"Ana." My name, nuzzled behind my ear, warm air bathing my neck and heat pressed against my back. I'm not dreaming. "Ana." He whispers again with more urgency and I groan, turning just enough so that he can press a firm kiss to my temple and slide his arm under my head to pull me close.
"I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry I'm failing you." Failing me? I stretch to wake and argue with him but his finger presses against my lips and then his hand falls to its place between my breasts. "Sleep. Let me watch you sleep. I'll take care of everything, I promise."
In the morning the bed is empty and cold where he normally lies but his watch is still on his night table along with his phone. I don't hear the shower so he must be working out. Didn't he just do that a few hours ago?
In the shower the floor is dry, confirming that he's still in the building and not at work already. I know today is extremely busy for him so I'm surprised that he's not left yet but I appreciate the opportunity this gives me to talk about last night. I've worked out, between restless sleep and the short time I've been awake, that he's not angry at me but angry at himself. I just can't understand why. Mentally I note to talk with Dr. Fischer about my immediate decision to point the blame at myself and revert to my own old habits.
When I turn the water off, blindly reaching for a towel, Christian is leaning against the door frame, sweaty in nothing but a pair of black basketball shorts. I still haven't kissed his toes…
"Hey." I'm momentarily stunned silent so I stand there dumbly, naked and dripping wet until he hands me the towel he took off the wall.
"Good morning. Feeling better?" I aim for sultry and hit croaky instead. With the flex of an arm he pushes off from the frame, runs his hand through his hair and sighs.
"A little. I took care of a thorn in my side in Malaysia last night, had two workouts that kicked my ass and mastered Liszt's La Campanella which has eluded me for months now. Taylor probably hates me right now. Do you?"
"Hate you? Of course not. I adore you."
With deliberate slowness he unwraps my towel, sliding his hands around my waist and just holding me like that. Just his hands and his eyes.
"I have a meeting I'm running late for."
"I have a call with Isreal's Tourism Board in 45 minutes."
"I want you." His eyes are closed, his voice soft and…lost. "Flynn, Dr. Fischer they both want me to learn to cope with stress and anger without sex and I tried, I did. But the truth is, Anastasia, I need you."
"Call Andrea, have her push your meeting an hour." My lips graze over his chest, tasting salt and sweat and Christian. "I'll call my office and have them push my call."
He groans and tangles his hands in my hair, pulling me away from him with great effort.
"I can't. It's with Senator Murray or I would." I know he wants to, I can feel him bumping against my stomach but I also know that there are a few people even Christian has to schedule around and Presidents, Senators and Governors are those few.
With great reluctance I pull back and wrap myself again before brushing my teeth. He's in the shower now, talking about the Veterans Assistance Bill he's helping to fund with her sponsorship. I could jump in with him and just get in a quickie but we both know he needs more than that. If that would have pulled him out of this funk, we'd be finished already.
"We have the decorator coming at seven tonight. Gail said she'd leave dinner on the stove if we wanted since she and Taylor are going out or I could pick something up on my way home."
"Shit. I forgot about the decorator. I called Flynn for six. Do you think you can manage for a half hour or so without me? Sawyer and Prescott will be here of course."
"Of course."
We dress together and grab the egg sandwiches Gail has made for us to eat in the car since we're running so behind. Before we even leave the garage Christian is barking orders into his phone. I'm on the phone with Andrea so I'm not sure who it is he's ordering around but then I hear Ros ask him to lower his voice. His head whips back but he does it, albeit begrudgingly.
In the elevator that same electricity that's always pulled us together is magnified by our unfulfilled desire from this morning. Neither of us can resist it. Hands and teeth and tongues fight for dominance over the other's body. When the door opens he's got pink gloss on his lips and I've got his signature scent on my clothes. Neither of us seems to mind.
"Cherry today?"
"Mmmhmm. You like?"
"I love the taste of your lips. Both sets. Come, I'll walk you to your office. Andrea, tell the Senator I'll be there in two minutes. So, the Israeli Tourism Board? That's turned into a major project for you."
"I know, we've amended the contract and upped the fee nine times now. I want a foothold in the Mid-Eastern market but as a female owned business, it's not been easy but this relationship has already proven fruitful."
"Have you thought any more about my offer to move Steele Translations here?"
"I have and I am in total agreement that my current office is now too small and that the security issue is a very real problem. I just don't know how I feel about working in the same building that you own. I know you hate to hear this but I like my autonomy in the business world." I expect a fight from him but he nods twice and opens my door, lightly swatting my butt when I walk past him.
"Elliot's got a new building a half mile from here he's starting to lease out. The security system is almost as good as mine, maybe you can look at a space there." It's not a bad idea but I'm not sure how I feel about renting from someone I know.
My phone beeps with a text just as his lips graze mine on his way out.
"Who is it?" My stomach hits the floor when I look at the screen.
"Mia." His head falls back and his arms drop to his sides before making their way up to his hair. I don't chide him for tugging on it this time. "Are you ok, Christian?" Haunted gray eyes, sad and closed off stare back at me.
"I just told my baby sister whose biggest upset in life up until last night was that her flat in Paris had only one bedroom, that I was sexually molested by a family friend. I'm great, Ana. It feels awesome to simultaneously kill someone's vision of a safe little world and inform them that their hero is nothing but a victim."
By the time I reach my hand out to comfort him, he's gone and as quickly as I can move my feet, it's not quick enough. Through the glass walls of the conference room next to his office I watch him walk in, shake the hands of two men and then hit the switch on the wall that blackens the glass. I've been shut out, emotionally and physically.
Inside my hatred for Elena multiplies. For weeks we ignored her, lived in a bubble that we filled with exploration, acceptance and love. Daily we moved forward, his strides towards emotional freedom larger and larger. And in one unannounced visit he's reverted to the angry, sullen, isolated man he was. Her power over him is so great that it literally controls his mood without her ever even needing to be in the same room as him.
At my desk I chastise myself for making this about me and not connecting the dots sooner. No matter how far he gets, no matter how many miles he puts between himself and her, he will always react this way when she reaches him. So if I want Christian to be whole and well and free, then she needs to go. And that, that is something I can help facilitate.
I've heard the term 'mother bear' but I wonder what it's called when a girlfriend goes ballistic to protect her man. Because me, I'm about to rip her fucking botoxed face off.
"Did he say anything to you?"
"No but we left with Christian and Taylor so he wouldn't have. What time did he leave your house this morning?"
"Nice try, Steele but he left last night at the godly hour of nine. We had a spaghetti Bolognese and drank a bottle of Coppala Cabernet, then had cheesecake that I made, made out a bit, on the couch not the bed, and then called it a night."
"What about the wax?"
"How the…Kate. Well I'm not going to be unprepared, I just need to feel him out a bit more ya know? But I put myself out there and crossed my fingers and he didn't run so that says something, right? I mean, I told him I'm not looking to marry him right now but that I wanted to date with purpose so…"
"And he didn't run from that? I'd say he's a man in love. Hey, why aren't you going camping with us this weekend? He's helping with security but I'm sure you could sneak off on his breaks or something for a little non-sex." Heather sighs heavily into the phone.
"I have that Bikram yoga retreat I'm running up in Vancouver. I was looking forward to it but now it means a weekend away from Luke just as things were getting good. I mean, I know he'll be on duty this weekend and all but at least we'd have been in the same space."
"Did he complain about having to go?"
"No way, he won't even talk about you and Christian. Said he's got an NDA but that even without it he wouldn't talk about his employer. It's so weird that he works for you. I mean, if we stay together, my boyfriend will spend more time with you than me."
"I'd never thought about it that way." I say with a laugh. "I know Christian isn't going to be keen on double dating or anything so we'll have to figure this thing out as we go."
"If there is a thing. Here's to hoping."
"Well according to Devin he brought you bacon which apparently is as good as a wedding ring. It's definitely a thing."
CPOV
"Andrea get me Franco Giamati on his private line."
I need to have sex. I need to feel her warm soft body against mine, opening and welcoming me in, wrapping itself around me and holding onto me until it shudders and cries out. I need to hear those low moans and high squeaks in my ear while I drive into her, clutching me with wet silk until I empty every stress, every issue, every annoyance into her. In a word, I need Ana.
Outside it's raining again and I'm glad for it. From the 20th floor I can see pretty much all of Seattle which makes my view pretty spectacular. It also reminds me how very many people are in this city. I watch them on the street, racing on bikes or in cars, eating lunch or buying coffee. I'm one human in a city of millions and from this vantage point, I can convince myself most days that I'm just like everybody else.
But when it's raining and cloudy, the only view I have is that of the clouds and the tops of some of the taller buildings. And it makes me feel important again, isolated, in control. Today I need to feel that more than I have in a long time.
Maybe it's the culmination of the Hyde issue tomorrow, maybe it's being stagnant in my pursuit of burying Elena Lincoln. Or maybe it's because for the first time in 25 years my future hangs in the balance and there is nothing I can do to control it. I want what I want but I'm beholden to someone else's timeline.
Is that why I'm so bent out of shape? Mentally I hit a checklist of current business ventures. There are a few issues that need resolving and one particularly large acquisition that is on the cusp of going hostel but that's nothing out of the ordinary for me. The Chinese deal is the largest one on the table right now but it's ahead of schedule and so far seems to be shaping up to be much less involved than originally thought.
I'm a bit apprehensive about going to London next week. I'm not a fan of business travel to begin with but the idea of leaving Anastasia for five days has brought that dislike up to abhorrence. I've tried to convince her to come along but she can't and even I have to concede that her business needs her attention.
Now that gets a smile. Her business. My woman, at the tender age of 22 is kicking ass and taking names. A few nights ago we sat down with a bottle of wine and looked over her first year income and projections. Steele Translations, in seven months, has blown past her five year plan. When she asked if I'd help her construct a new one and also help manage her cash flow, I was happy to help. But the truth of the matter is that she doesn't need my help, she's doing amazingly well all on her own. She may think her gift is linguistics but it's clearly business.
"Mr. Grey, Mr. Giamati is on hold for you." The walk from the window to my desk is short but it affords me a few seconds to stare at the black and white portraits on the wall. Mine.
"Franco, thank you for taking a few minutes to speak with me."
"Oh no problem, no problem. I'm just so happy to hear from you, Mr. Grey. What can I do for you?"
"I was hoping you had a few minutes to come to Grey House this afternoon. There's a few things I'd like to discuss with you and I'd prefer to do it in person. Bring your kit with you if you don't mind."
"Not at all! I can be down there in an hour? Is that good for you?"
True to his word he arrives exactly one hour later. I recognize an expensive suit when I see one but it's his handshake I pay attention to. Firm, strong and demonstrative. It's all I need to know.
"Have a seat. We'll get to my grooming in a bit, I have a few questions for you first."
"Certainly, Mr. Grey. I feel as if I've been called into the principal's office!" He gushes nervously, fiddling with his tie over and over.
"Outside of the Esclava Salons do you have any type of personal relationship with Elena Lincoln?" The question catches him off guard which was my exact intention. I need to know the truth and surprise is the best way to get it.
"No." He says slowly, clearly unsure of what the correct answer should be. "I do not."
"Why is that?" His eyes leave mine and settle on the edge of my desk, the wheels in his head spinning rapidly. "Speak freely, Franco."
"I can't stand the woman to be honest. I work for Esclava because it makes me, excuse me, made me, the most money I could hope to make. Its reputation and clientele are stellar though it's a wonder how with her at the helm though I'm sure your name being attached was a large incentive."
"You said made as if your income has taken a hit." His chest rises with a deep breath and then he blows out slowly. I'm about to get a Giamati fake Italian earful.
"When you pulled from the business it made the news, Sir. Anything you do makes the news so for you to pull your backing sent a message to the elite that Christian Grey didn't want to be a part of Esclava. Then a few weeks later your mother cancelled her appointment as did your sister and your grandmother and suddenly, four of my regulars want me to go to their homes for their blowouts and color because they refuse to step foot in the salon. The problem there is that I have a contract, as does every other stylist there, that clearly states that we are not to conduct business in the homes of our clients unless Esclava has requested that we do so and that all financial transactions are run through the salon. I won't lie, I've been to your mother's house twice and have done both your sister and your grandmother at that time but I'm hesitant to do it again."
"Your contracts are legal? Or simply a form you signed during the interview process?" His lips purse out as he thinks.
"I never got a lawyer involved if that's what you mean. I read through my copy a few weeks ago when I realized how slow business was getting and it's pretty cut and dry. No side work."
"Esclava is on its way to demise, Franco. That is information that stays between you and me. If you breathe a word of it, I will rescind the offer I am about to make to you."
"I don't miss the salon business, I don't particularly want to be in it but I realize that my actions have caused financial distress for innocent participants in the business. I also realize that you are beholden to Ms. Lincoln and because of that, you can no longer work for me." He looks crestfallen.
"This poses a problem for me for two reasons. One, I allow very few people into my home and you were one of them. Two, if the female members of my family are separated from you, there will be hell for me to pay according to my sister. So I come to you with an offer." I hand him a sheath of papers legal has been working on all morning.
"This is an offer for me to become a silent partner in a new salon venture. You will be the owner and CEO, I will act as CFO but will hire someone in my stead as I have no interest in the beauty business. You will rent from a building in Seattle that my brother will begin leasing out in one months time and you will bring with you any stylist you deem good enough to work for you. I will receive a monthly dividend and will also receive a percentage of your annual income after your returns are filed. You have one hour to decide and one day to have your attorney look over the contract."
He hasn't blinked once.
"You…want to back me…in a salon? My salon? I don't need an hour, yes!"
"Wonderful, have the contract back to me by this time tomorrow." He reaches for a pen and flips to the last page.
"I don't need a day or an attorney, I'll sign right now!"
"No, Franco, you won't. You will, from this point forward, never sign anything until you've read it entirely. And you will also take a night course at Washington University in business management, I'll sponsor you for enrollment in September."
"Yes, sure, of course, Mr. Grey. Wow, I…I'm speechless! When can I tell my staff? Or, more accurately the people I want to take with me?"
"When can you get up and running? You can count my family and the women who've left Esclava as customers already and from the reaming my sister gave me last night, she wants you open today so the sooner the better."
"One month. Give me one month from the date of the investment and I can be up and running. You won't regret this, Mr. Grey. Thank you so much, I…I really don't know how to repay you."
"I do." I stand, shake his hand and walk him to the door. "Put Elena Lincoln out of business."
"What is it, Welch? I've got three meetings in the next hour so make it quick."
"Sir, Tony Lain received word five minutes ago that the IRS has decided to open an investigation into Ms. Lincoln based on the report he compiled and supplied. GEH won't be mentioned on any paperwork but Lain was made privy to the investigation because of his involvement."
"Finally! Get him on the line, Andrea and then get Debra on the line."
"Lain, good work. I want to know what to expect now."
"Well, Sir, not much to be honest. She's been given a field audit so someone will be sent to her place of business and her returns will be scrutinized along with her bookkeeping. The real problem for us lies in the fact that we need to get the FTC to open an investigation, nail her on the identity theft and then get the IRS to take a look at those accounts since all of it is unreported cash income. Until the FTC moves, the IRS has no legal ground to audit a tax ID number not belonging to Ms. Lincoln."
"Who do we need to grease at the FTC then? This shit has to get taken care of this week so that when I leave for London on Wednesday the ball will be rolling so fast down the hill that it runs her right over."
"Greasing the FTC amounts to a federal crime and we've got nobody inside that particular branch. The best I can do is have the parents of the kids whose social security numbers she stole file police reports. That will open an investigation immediately."
"Do it then!" A hush falls over the room until Welch clears his throat.
"Sir, we'd be asking parents whose children were taken from them at an early age to dredge up very upsetting memories. Not to mention feeling like their children were victims even in death. I urge you to reconsider."
Three months ago I'd have felt a twinge of guilt and then ordered the parents notified, sent them a few hundred thousand to ease my conscious and not thought about it again. But now, damn it now I can't do any of the above. I'm again at an impasse where morals and justice do not cross paths.
"Fine, hold off on that angle for now. But find someone we can use at the FTC and find them today."
"Are you regretful over the way you handled," Flynn flips two pages back on his tablet, "Jared?"
"I don't know. He's her friend and to be honest, I actually held back from what I really wanted to do which was rip him limb from limb. But then he stood up and he was all frail and afraid and he apologized and attempted to plead his case and damn it if he didn't make sense. But I was already in the mode so I cut him off, yelled a bit more and stormed out. It embarrassed Ana I'm sure."
"You reacted to him and his request for Ana's involvement in building his business because you internalized it instead of objectified it. Think about it, you're extremely wealthy. Everyone who comes into your life at this point is aware of it and almost everyone wants something from you. You projected that onto Ana, and rightly so in this case."
"So I was right?"
"Well, you were right to be upset that someone wanted to use her. You yourself have been taken advantage of and you're protecting her from that. But the way you handled it leaves a bit to be desired. Would you consider an apology?"
"No." I scoff and then run my hands through my hair, leaning forward on my knees. "No. I'm not sorry, I just want to handle personal shit differently going forward. I maintain that he's a dick."
Silence stretches. I've gotten good at ignoring it in here since I hate manipulative tactics. Finally he sighs and speaks.
"Christian you requested a session. We can sit in here and make mental grocery lists or we can talk."
"I told Mia." Brows raise, right leg ticks then crosses over left, glasses slide down. Yup, he wants to dive into it. Classic Flynn. "Surprisingly she handled it quite well though she has called me twice today just to check in."
"Details, please." I fill him in on everything, from Elena's drop in visit to my outburst which is what prompted Mia to ask. He's not surprised that I withheld the BDSM and the length of abuse from her but is surprised that I let her hug me for an extended amount of time.
I shrug. "She was a baby when she came to us. I've never really seen her as a threat even though she's the only person who can make my ears bleed." I chuckle at my own joke. "I don't want her to know everything but I don't want her left out of something so huge. I'd be bent if everyone in our family knew something except me and she's going to find out one day anyway I'm sure."
"Are those your only reasons for telling her?"
"No." I answer slowly. "I fear that Elena is going to come after my family now that I've completely cut her off. Her showing up at my parents house...I don't know...it just took the rug out from under me. I want Mia to be prepared and the only way to do that is to let her know what was going on."
"And how do you feel today about her knowing? Now that you've had a night to reflect on it?"
"I feel numb. I'm at a point where I want realness with the people in my life, my family being number one after Ana. I want them to know me, not the shell of the human they thought I was. Maybe I'm being dramatic but I feel like I'm about to head into war, like my brain has just gone on auto pilot."
"Is that why you needed to come in today?"
"Not entirely, no."
"Then what prompted this emergency session? It appears as if telling Mia and this issue with Ana's friend are things you've already worked through so what is it that you want to talk about?"
Without thinking my hands tug at my hair and my feet begin to tap on the floor. Vulnerability has never been my strong suit.
"I've never been happier in my life. I feel contentment and joy and excitement. Actual excitement for each day. But at the same time, I feel like my feet are above my head and I'm being tossed down the rabbit hole. I've been nervous, anxious, and stressed out plenty of times in my life but this is different. It's like, a part of life I never knew existed is breaking away from me and I can't catch it no matter how badly I want it."
"To me, Christian, it's obvious. You have always seen the world, yours especially, in black and white. But now, with the added emotions and awareness of others that you've acquired, there are shades of gray that you can't reconcile. And as much as you want to understand and be a part of this new world of yours, there are elements of your past that you haven't quite laid to rest yet."
Flynn sits back, tablet balanced on his black suit pants and waits for me to speak. But say what? That as much as I struggle with wanting to take Elena Lincoln down, I still feel some sort of tie to her? Just thinking it makes me sick but it's true. I've pushed it down over and over but it keeps bubbling up to the surface. I hate him for knowing this about me but I hate myself even more for struggling with it.
Flynn calls it traumatic bonding but I call it hell. Everything in me wants to hold her entirely responsible for my fuckedupness and in more ways than ever before, I do. I no longer believe that what she did was helpful or a push in the right direction. I no longer see her influence in my life as a positive outside of her investment into GEH. I no longer think of her as a friend and I see now that she never was. So what is it? What is this thread between us that I can't seem to snap?
"I want to talk to Elena." It's out before I can filter it.
"To what end?" He's not even surprised.
"I need to know why." Inside the rage and anger and frustration and embarrassment and shame that I have carried around for the bulk of my life combust. I hate that she made me into this! I hate that she made me ashamed of who I was and isolated me. But more than anything, I hate that I let her. I hate that I need to know why and hate that she's the only one who can answer that.
I pride myself on being able to read people whether it be in business or the bedroom. I'm damn good at figuring out when I'm being lied to or manipulated. I know when someone is trying to take advantage of me and I know when someone's given me everything they could.
But she played me and manipulated me and controlled me for years. And I didn't even know it was happening. In so many ways I feel like that 15 year old kid, tied down to the hard oak table with a ball gag and a hard on, terrified of what was going to happen but desperate for it at the same time.
Her demise is coming, I can feel it in my bones the same way I can feel when I'm about to close a huge deal but the unknown of what happens when she's through, it terrifies me.
"Christian. She is a sick deviant pervert who to this day has not admitted wrongdoing. You may never get an answer from her. We need to figure out a way to get past this without it."
"No! I need to know! Even after all this…this…therapy bull shit and finding someone who loves me and telling my family and cutting all ties to her, I need to know. Why didn't my mother love me? Why did that pimp think he could abuse me? Why, out of every teenage boy in Seattle did she choose me? Why not Elliot or Todd from down the street or her own nephew? Why me? What is it about me that she saw as weak? That they saw as weak? I need to know!"
But before he can answer I've left, marching past his receptionist to the Audi. Taylor doesn't ask any questions, just opens the door and waits for instructions.
"Home." Ana.
He taps a text to Sawyer so that he's aware we're on our way and then pulls into traffic.
"Sir, Sawyer informed me that the decorator has arrived. A gentleman by the name of Richard Brendell."
"I assume he's been cleared by your office?"
"Yes, Sir, we ran a check on Friday." Normally I'd want to see a copy but right now I'm so numb I just don't give a shit.
Until we walk in the apartment and he and Ana are bent over the dining room table, less than two inches apart. Taylor stands next to me, obviously aware that this time, I may just go postal. When Ana giggles at something he said and he puts his hand on her back to laugh with her, I lose my shit.
In five strides I'm at her side, pulling her by the arm behind me. Neither of them knew I was there so it comes as quite the surprise, made more so by the fact that I'm all but beating my chest with rage.
"Christian! What are you doing?" I hear pain in her voice which snaps me back to the present. When I look down she looks afraid…of me. It shatters me.
"Mr. Grey, I'm sorry…I was just going over the new" I cut him off with a raise of my hand.
"Are you ok, baby?"
"I'm…I'm fine. Richard was just telling me how he and his husband have the same color in their bedroom that we've chosen." Got it, husband. He's gay and I'm an asshole. Taylor turns on his heel and disappears into the apartment, emerging with Gail a few seconds later and heading for the elevator.
"Mr. Brendell, my apologies for my gruff appearance. I was under the impression that the new designer was to be a woman." Which isn't true but I'm not about to let him know how out of control jealous I am. One look at Ana though and I already know what we'll be discussing over dinner. Can't wait.
"No worries, Sir. This is your home, I imagine finding a stranger in it would throw you off. Ms. Matteo's original replacement decided to fall in love on a scouting visit to India and has taken a sabbatical. I told her leaving your job was the equivalent of decorator suicide but she would not be swayed. So here I am."
Oh, so there had been a female replacement. Lucky guess. Ana smirks and crosses her arms, one foot tapping in front of her.
"Can I get you a drink, Mr. Grey while you look over these choices?" Her lips purse in an attempt not to smile but she loses the battle and walks away with a wave. "I'll get wine for all of us. Pinot Grigio alright with you, Richard?"
"Marvelous." Oh yeah, definitely gay.
After an hour of colors, fabric swatches, discussions on light bulb wattage and a tour of the kitchen I couldn't have cared less about Mr. Brendell finally closes his portfolio and shakes my hand.
"It was a pleasure. We'll have the name of our painters to your security tomorrow and get started next week."
"Two weeks." Ana cocks her head at me. "I don't want anyone here while I'm out of town."
"Of course, Mr. Grey. Two weeks then. I'll be in touch." The second he leaves, the very second that elevator door closes she's got her hand on her hip and a look that would make even the most powerful CEO freeze. I know this because I'm frozen by it.
"Your jealousy is out of control. I have tried to coddle you through it, I have tried to rationalize it with you, I have tried tough love." The clack of her black heels coming towards me is the only other sound in the entire apartment since every one of my highly paid staff has disappeared.
"I'm at a loss here sweetheart. I don't like women, how do you say it, eye fucking you either and don't get me started on the websites and Facebook pages dedicated to you. But you don't see me throwing down every time a female is in your proximity." On a gamble I hold out one finger.
"Mona."
"Ballsy move, Grey. But Moooona, as I like to refer to her as, has a real interest in you and is actively pursuing said interest. She had intentions and a plan to take what's mine. I simply let her know that in order for that to happen, she'd have to kill me first." Her humor cuts the tension and I chuckle.
"Baby, when I say that there is no way in hell any woman could take me from you, I mean it. Simply put, you are my world and I'd die without you." Her hands drop from her hips and she pouts.
"Well that took the wind out of my anger sails. Damn you, Grey I was gearing up for a fight. That was sweet but can we stop talking about killing and dying? Let's eat, maybe food will help with your disposition of late."
Over Thai ginger chicken and carrot salad we discuss the day like normal people coming together after the workday apart. This new normal still floors me. In my old life, the one that I tend to purposefully forget about, dinner was between seven and seven thirty, just like it is now. But it was eaten alone at the breakfast bar with the TV on the news or in my office at my desk with a computer in front of me.
There was no conversation, no one to dissect the day with or to bounce ideas off of. Just me. A pang of loneliness for the life I used to lead hits me hard but she doesn't notice. Instead she talks about how Barney had on a Chicken Little tie and did I know that he goes to ComicCon every year and some author she loves has new book coming out and she's on the waitlist and on and on and on. I love every second of it.
"Waitlist?" I venture once she's stopped chatting.
"Mmmhmm. It comes out in twelve weeks but I put my name on the list today when Lisa sent me the link." She sips her wine and waves her hand, picking up right where she left off about how we're supposed to bring the sides for dinner on our campout and do I think lettuce will wilt if we keep it in a cooler for a few hours.
"What?" I raise my brows and just keep on smiling. "What are you laughing at? Me? Am I talking too much?"
"No. I love to listen to you. I love when you get like this and let me in that pretty little head of yours. There's a lot going on in there."
On a half smile she stands, pushes her plate and mine across the dining room table and straddles me. Two soft hands glide over my hair, tugging back enough so that our eyes are level.
"I have an idea, Grey. About your jealousy issue."
"Oh yea, and what's that? Lock you away in this tower and throw away the key?"
"Precisely why we need to figure this out now." She giggles and then nips at my mouth. Boner meet Anastasia Steele.
"Want to hear it? My idea?" Something tells me that I don't. I shake my head and smile. "No? Pity. Here it is anyway. Have you ever heard of immersion therapy?" Boner gone.
"Ana." I warn.
"Oh, you've heard of it then. It's not that I want to have guys hit on me or be touched by gasp! gay men who are selling paint to me, but seriously, that shit is getting old. I love you. I am with you. If they look, if they talk to me or sell me something or smile at me it doesn't matter. I'm with you. Nobody can take me from you, no situation, no threat, no person. When you act like that it makes me feel like I've done something wrong and frankly, it's embarrassing. It has to stop. Period. Full stop. The end."
"Sigh all you want, Christian, but this," Her finger pokes my chest, "has" then my collarbone, "to" and then she wiggles it under my arm, "stop!" She squeals, bouncing on my lap while she tickles me with both hands and damn if I don't giggle like a school girl.
"You hear me, Grey? Enough with the jealousy! You're a grown ass man with a good woman who loves you. Next time you fly off the handle, there will be consequences. You hear me?" She's laughing between words, red in the face from her efforts.
Her fingers dig, alternating between my neck and underarms and then my sides and abs. Never having experienced this outside of the one time with her, I have no idea how to protect myself so I do the only thing I can. I overpower her.
One loud shriek echo's in the great room when I toss her over my shoulder and smack her ass. Behind me little hands grab at my waist and my legs to tickle but she stops when I flip her on her back onto the floor and straddle her, pinning both hands high above her head with one hand.
"You wouldn't."
"What? Tickle you like you just did to me? This game, though new to me, is a reciprocal venture, is it not?"
"Christian! I'm warning you. You tickle me and" but I never find out the threat because I lay into her until she's got tears streaming down her face and my balls are bruised from her bucking up in an attempt to get away.
When the laughter dies down we fall back onto the cold marble floor and stare at the ceiling, holding hands and uttering the occasional, 'phew'.
"Why are you so jealous, Christian? Were you always like this?"
"Hardly." I scoff. "I required monogamy from my subs but that was more for dominance and sexual safety. I didn't care about their past partners nor did I give their future partners any thought. It never even occurred to me that I should care to be honest. Even with…her. I knew she had other partners even when I was around but it never bothered me. As long as I got what I wanted, nothing else mattered."
"But with you it's different. Everything is different. Flynn and I have explored it a little." She's propped up on one arm, watching me intently while she traces the buttons on my shirt with one fingernail. "I recognize that it's a problem for you."
"Yes, it is. I can't live in a bubble and I can't live in fear of you misreading situations and flying off the handle. What are you so afraid of?"
"I'm afraid of losing you. I'm afraid someone will come along without a past and without the drama that seems to surround my existence and you'll leave me."
She scrambles to her knees and pulls me up, wrapping her legs around my waist and holding me close.
"You're the only person who knows me, Ana. Not the CEO, not the abused kid, not the distant son. Me."
"Christian. I do know you." Her hand lays flat against my heart, warm and gentle. "That's why I love you so much. Nobody else can influence that in any direction. Me and you, that's all there is." Her hips grind against me, pulling me closer by tightening her legs. "Let's make out."
"Make out? Like in high school?" She bites that damn bottom lip and nods, tracing one lone finger around the shell of my ear. "I never did it."
"So let's do it now." That sexy bedroom voice of hers just lures me in, cleansing the filth of the day from my mind and replacing it with peace and lust and the promise of pleasure. And like high school kids we make out on the floor of my great room, hands roaming over each others body, lips fighting for dominance over the other. I hold out as long as I can which isn't long if I'm honest.
"Ana." I whisper, pulling her face to mine and kissing her with adoration. "I need you." Her lips reciprocate with tenderness and surety and even though it's my legs that walk us to the bedroom, it's her love that brings me there. I need my woman in our bed.
We take turns loving each other with our bodies and our words. At first soft and slow, gentle and steady while she gives me the security and assurance that I've needed for over 24 hours. In this exchange of devotion the peace I've been chasing all day finally finds me and takes up residence in my mind. Her body bends to mine, meshing and molding itself around my needs. Her wet heat and little moans push away all negative thoughts and right my world.
Hours later the hunger is back, frantic, frenzied, aggressive but no less fulfilling and no less moving. She bounces back against me as hard as I thrust into her, the need to consume one another a singular pursuit that ends with screams, fingernail marks and total possession.
In the moonlight I fall away from her one last time, untangling my fingers from her wild hair to gather her in my arms as she drifts off to sleep.
"Ana?"
"Hmmm?"
"Text me the name of that book you wanted, the one you were on the waitlist for." Twelve weeks my ass.