CPOV
I had forgotten how productive I can be when I'm angry but sitting back and taking inventory of what I've accomplished in just under two hours is impressive. I don't know if I've never noticed it before or if I've never been this pissed but since getting back to Escala I've managed to bring my email inbox down to less than 150 and I've updated three current acquisition contracts, all while cold calling my managers in Asia and Eastern Europe.
I'm past the point of tired, so much so that I find myself zoning out but instead of going to bed I work until my eyes burn and my mind swims with exhaustion. Three nights of no sleep has caught up with me and after I make a stupid mistake on a budget line item I begrudgingly call it a night, a pit of dread opening in my belly. I pad quietly to the bedroom and although I'm pissed, so pissed that she won't even consider including the word obey, I'm immediately relaxed to see her sleeping form in our bed.
She's so tiny compared to the oversized mattress in this oversized room. So slender and fragile. So vulnerable. Does she not understand that giving me the freedom to make decisions about our family will ensure her safety? How does she expect me to run our family if she's unwilling to let me lead?
It's strange to brush my teeth alone and stranger still to climb into bed and not reach for her. Her hair is wild on the pillow, her chest rising and falling with each breath. I'm hit with a hard on that quickly becomes painful when I notice she's in nothing more than my t-shirt and a pair of tiny panties. It doesn't help that she wore the same plum colored dress to dinner tonight that she wore the night I took her virginity either.
My refusal to touch her was only made worse by that little glimpse I got of her in our closet getting dressed, the same black lace boy shorts she's got on now taunting me, encouraging me to say, 'forget it, you win'. Angrily I pull up the blankets, covering up any temptation she offers and begin to formulate my argument with regards to her vows.
But try as I might, I can't wade past the quagmire that I created for myself by my reaction to the Steele Translations bull shit. I concede I should have given her the opportunity to explain her position but the thought of my wife owning a company without our name on it just sent me into a tailspin.
All day I'd come up with every logical reason for her to change the name but then she explained her emotional reason for wanting to keep her last name on her company. My plan had been to sit her down and bombard her with my list, to overwhelm her and appeal to her on a business level and ultimately to get her to change her mind but after hearing her reasoning, I knew I didn't have a shot in hell of her agreeing with me.
And truthfully, her explanation as to how much her last name means to her made more sense than any legal or professional point I could make. What surprised me the most though was how deeply her words struck me. I had never thought of my last name as a gift but that's exactly what it is. This entire life of mine, each opportunity I'd been given, each trip I was taken on, each dinner I ate, each bath I took, each new pair of sneakers, all of it was a gift bestowed upon me by parents who loved me by choice. They gave me their name, brought me into the fold of their family and sheltered me there until I could stand on my own.
And yet, even though I could completely understand where she was coming from, even though I could feel how important this was to her I still held onto a bit of that resentment. Am I jealous of Ray? Of the thought of another man filling the role I so want all to myself? Could she cherish me the way she cherishes him? Find as much of an identity in me as she has in him?
I don't want to share her no matter who it is. I want her life to begin and end with me and our family. I want everything in her life to revolve around me, to come back to me. Can that happen if she maintains some autonomy from me, no matter how minute?
On instinct I reach out to touch her cheek, brushing the shadow of her lashes. So warm and smooth. My arms ache to hold her, my lips tingle with the want to kiss her and I almost do but just as I reach for her waist to pull her lithe body to mine, anger tears through me. Obey. She may have negotiated her way out of changing the company name but obey isn't an argument I'm going to roll over on.
It makes no difference to me that she's never been one to bend to my will nor does it matter that she's not a woman who will inherently be obedient but the fact remains that I am going to be her husband. Call me old fashioned but husband equals head of household and as the head of the household, I need to be in control.
She's out cold but stirs when I draw my hand back. Even in her sleep she reaches for me, one small delicate hand, fingernails covered in what looks like gold glitter crossing over that imaginary border between us to rest on my chest. A soft sigh escapes from her lips, parted in relaxation and begging for a kiss. I fight the urge to run my tongue over them and instead grasp her hand in mine, taking note of the clock. One am. Five hours and we can settle this argument before breakfast because one more night of this torture, and I'll go crazy.
"Good morning," she says guardedly, blowing steam from the top of her coffee mug. "I forgot Gail wasn't here so I didn't think to make breakfast but there's fruit and oatmeal or I can attempt an omelet." Good, she's in a compliant mood.
"Aren't you going to Dr. Fischer this morning?"
"Yes, my appointment is at eight but you were in the shower when I got up."
"Never stopped you from coming in before."
"No, but we've never been fighting before." She fidgets in her chair and watches me get my own cup, walking it to the breakfast bar next to her. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do and frankly the idea of pissing you off first thing in the morning wasn't high up on my list. This is new for me."
"And me. Another first for us, Ms. Steele." With that we smile at each other. The calm before the storm. I know this peaceful feeling well, it happens before every hostile takeover, every boardroom debriefing, every budget cut conversation. I wait silently until her shoulders relax and then pounce.
"State your terms," I quip at her, holding back the smile that threatens when she shoots me a confused head tilt.
"Terms? For what?" Suddenly her jaw drops as she puts it together. "To agree to obey? There are no terms. It's a non-negotiable." Oh sweet little girl. Nothing is a non-negotiable with me.
"Let's try that again shall we?" Her head cocks to the side again, her eyes turning to little slits.
"Excuse me? Try what again? My answer? You can try a thousand times, the answer remains the same." Damn she's good, all calm and even toned, hands steady on her mug, eyes set on mine without the least bit of intimidation. Shit, I really should have hired her. Time for a tactical shift.
"Did you eat?" I ask, neither one of us moving. She blinks, thrown off by my concern and the change of topic. She shakes her head and like the asshole that I am I saunter to the pantry, take out the oatmeal and then turn back towards the breakfast bar, placing it between us before nodding to her to indicate that's what I want her to make.
"Oatmeal sounds good. I like raspberries in mine with cream." Her face breaks out in a grin, a fake sign of joy at what she thinks is a joke before quickly morphing into hysterical laughter when she realizes I'm serious. Without a word she slides off the stool, picks up her coffee cup and dumps it in the sink. There's a tense few seconds where she has to pass by me, her scent so intoxicating even in my pissed off mood that I inhale and close my eyes.
Just before the bedroom door closes she starts to laugh again, incoherent words muffled by the heavy door that slams behind her. That was definitely not how I envisioned this conversation playing out. Reynolds appears then, keys in hand and follows me to the elevator with my briefcase. I should go to her, make this right, talk this through. I should cancel my meeting and work this out but I don't. Instead I enter the elevator, let Reynolds hit the G and watch as the apartment disappears in front of me.
"Sir, your brother is here for you." Jacqueline breaks through the silence of my sterile office. The last thing I feel like doing is shooting the shit with Elliot but I tell her to send him anyway, an unnecessary instruction since he's walking through the door already. She follows, her belly still tiny but more obvious than it was just last week. Ana and I have reached an understanding on the baby issue but seeing what I want in front of me, just out of my reach yet shoved in my face is only going to inflame this anger building up inside. Yet another thing I'm not getting my way on.
When she offers to get him a drink he gives her a smile and tells her to take the rest of the afternoon off so she can put her feet up. She laughs and turns her attention to me.
"Mr. Grey, what can I order you for lunch?" Eating is the last thing on my mind right now. I never did have breakfast and the banana Reynolds handed to me in the car only sat like a lead sinker in my stomach. Elliot waits and then looks at her.
"We're going to go out to get something to eat but thanks, Jacqueline."
"What the fuck, Elliot? I can't leave."
"Sure you can. You own this place, right? That is your name on the front of the building is it not?" He looks around and grabs my phone off the desk handing it to me. "I don't see any appointments waiting and I could use your advice and a beer so let's go."
"It's noon. I'm not drinking a beer at noon."
"Whatever dude," he rolls his eyes and turns towards the door, "I'm having one, you can drink a Shirley Temple for all I care."
I do order a beer, not because Elliot tells me I need to but because he tells me why he needs one.
"I walked in on Mia and Ethan this morning." I am going to throw the fuck up. My finger goes up to signal the bartender.
"Two Sam Adams Pale Ale's."
"And a plate of hot wings, the biggest size you have. Fries too. Maybe some jalepeno poppers if you've got them." The woman just stares at both of us, her gaze flicking from me to my brother and back again until Elliot smiles at her and then waves his hand in front of her face. "Hello?"
"Uh, sorry. Sam Adams and some appetizers. Right, sorry." When he turns back to me he rolls his eyes and cracks open a peanut from the bowl on the bar, popping one in after the other to avoid having to expound further.
"I see we still get the same response as always. Man, we could have cleaned house with the ladies if you hadn't been so tied up with the crypt keeper." He pauses, half his mouth upturning in a smile. "No pun intended of course."
"Right. Dick."
The bartender walks us over two cold bottles and then disappears down to the other end to avoid looking at us again. Neither Elliot nor I speak but we both do drink half our beer before I venture to initiate the conversation he's brought me here for.
"How?"
"I stopped by mom and dad's to measure the frame for the pool house sliding glass door. You know, the one Gavin cracked over the summer?" I nod. I have no idea what he's talking about though I'm not surprised it was my hot headed cousin that broke it. "Anyway, everyone was home and I freaking saw his car in the driveway which kind of pissed me off because I was never allowed to have a chick sleep over and there's Mia's first boyfriend's car in the driveway at eight in the morning."
"Point, Elliot? And no details, I mean it. I will fucking pound your ass into the ground if you give me visuals." He swigs a few more sips and motions for another. I roll my neck and do the same.
"So I walk in but dad's on his way out and mom was upstairs so I decide to take the measurement and then come back in to give mom a piece of my mind for letting Ethan spend the night." He hangs his head in his hands, "I should have known. I should have known the second I opened the door and it wasn't locked."
"Elliot. They have sex. We knew this." One brow raises as he looks at me with disdain.
"Have you seen it bro? Because knowing something and seeing it are two very different thigns." He leans forward, squares his gaze with mine and says, "She was bent over the couch." Oh fuck me I'm definitely going to be sick. "Moaning. Liking it." He sits back and rubs his hands over his face harshly, shaking his head and finishing his second beer only to order another.
"Fuck you, now I've got that image in my head." His hands fold on his lap and he leans down to bang his forehead on the counter over and over.
"So disgusted. And if that's not bad enough, she saw me. I screeched like a little bitch and they both looked over. He just stood there, unmoving while she screamed and I covered my face and shut the door." He begins to laugh. "Fell down the last few stairs and then ran to my truck and got the fuck out of there. Never even measured the damn door." I laugh with him and shove a wing in my mouth.
"It gets worse."
"How? How could that possibly get any worse?"
"I went straight home. I was supposed to be on a job site but I'm telling you, my mind just shut down because I wound up sitting in my driveway with no idea how I got there and then Kate came out to ask what I was doing. So naturally I decided I needed to have sex to erase the morning and distract myself but," he looks around again and gets very serious, "I couldn't get it up."
I choke on my beer and stop laughing. A missed opportunity for sex is not funny.
"Shit," I say. He nods solemnly.
"It's never happened before and frankly, I'm kind of freaking the fuck out." He drinks and half looks at me. "Ever happen to you?" I cough, as does he, and then look down, peeling the label off my third beer.
"No."
"Never?"
"I have total control over…that." Is this really the conversation I'm subjecting myself to at one o'clock in the afternoon on a Thursday at some non-descript bar with chewy wings, limp celery and soggy fries?
"Yeah, control. My dick obeys me," I mutter the last part but he's off in his own head anyway.
"Control. Speaking of which, I heard old crone Lincoln's in county jail now. Heard her place got ransacked." I eye him carefully, so not wanting to delve into this right now or ever. "The whole place too, heard even her bedroom was torn apart." He looks away and waves to a buddy of his sitting at the bar. "Wonder what they were looking for."
I shrug. "Money probably."
"Nah. I bet news of her sinking ship got out and someone connected with her world wanted to make sure their ass was covered should they ever search her place. A sick bitch like that has to have some pretty serious skeletons in her closet. Think they found anything? Videos? Pictures?" He burps and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
"I have no idea, Elliot." Why is he asking me this shit? He gets the message because the conversation stops right there, both of us sitting in silence while the plate of fries grows cold.
"You looking forward to the bachelor party?" His brows wiggle on his face. "I know I am. Strippers by the hundreds. Man, you are going to get so much tail Saturday night it's going to be sick." I just stare at him until he holds up both hands and laughs. "Kidding, geesh. It was a joke. I'm joking. No strippers. For you or Ana."
I just stare at him, debating whether or not I should purge onto him like he just did to me. I should just beat the shit out of him for the last thirty minutes he stole from me but instead I close my eyes and run my hands over my head.
"What now? Fuck you run hot and cold sometimes. I don't know how the hell you found a girl, a hot one with a brain no less to put up with you. Did the Pope make Ana a saint while you were there?" He burps again, "What another beer?"
"No. I need to get back to the office."
"Is it the thing with Mia?"
"What? God no. I'm fine, just busy. Thanks for lunch." I stand but he sits still so begrudgingly I sit back down and run my hands through my hair. "What, Elliot?"
"You tell me. You were all fine and then you just put on your Captain Asshole cape for no apparent reason. Now normally I'd just chalk it up to who you are but since that's just not the case anymore, why the arctic shift? Did I say something? Is it Elena? What happened to her? Because I swear to Christ, Christian if you care that she finally got what was coming to her I'll break your face."
"No, I don't give a fuck what happens to her anymore. She can get a house dropped on her for all I care at this point. Mom asked about our vows last night and admittedly I hadn't given it much thought but I assumed we'd go traditional. But Ana wants us to write our own." He laughs and tosses a few twenties onto the table.
"So get Mia or Kate to do it for you, they're both good with words. Or Andrea, god knows she does everything but wipe your ass anyway."
"I can write my own vows dickface. Let me ask you, when you get married, do you expect Kate to vow to obey you?" He stops mid-sip and raises his brows, shooting me an 'are you fucking kidding me look' and then drops his hand to the table, the bottle clanging loudly.
"Uh, of course. And then I expect her to quit her job, get pregnant, wear an apron, do all the cooking, cleaning and shopping and have sex with me whenever the wind shifts left. Then, if I'm lucky we can cuddle on the couch and catch the new episodes of 'Leave it to Beaver'. Are you out of your damned mind? Of course I don't expect that!"
"Thanks for lunch," I shoot, knocking my knuckles on the table to avoid slamming them into his mouth. He follows me outside and walks the three blocks back to GEH while the two paparazzi that have followed me around for three years take pictures of us. How are they not sick of their jobs yet?
"Come on, bro. You're pissed because Ana won't say obey?" I remain tight lipped. "Christian, nobody says that anymore, it's like, bad etiquette now or something. Politically incorrect. Backwards. Would you want a woman who didn't come back at you? You really expected Ana to be willing to say it?"
"Yeah, I did. She's going to be my wife," I hiss, looking around to ensure that nobody is watching.
"So?" He shoots back, hitting the number 20 in the express elevator. On the way to my office Jacqueline shoves a stack of papers at me all needing my review and Andrea reminds me of my appointment in five minutes.
"So?" I mimic him once the door is shut. "It's important to me."
"For her to obey you?"
"Yes."
"You realize she's an adult right? A smart adult capable of making decisions. I could have told you on day one she's not the girl to vow to obey you." He laughs, "Sometimes I'm blown away, seriously blown away by how stupid you can be. You picked a fight with her didn't you?" I say nothing but shove my hands in my pockets and stand there staring at him. "You douche canoe. You don't tell a woman to obey you! My god! It's like amateur hour over here."
"Goodbye, Elliot."
"You never answered my question. Would you really want that? A woman who just did whatever you said and didn't challenge you? Would you really be happy if Ana was willing to change her persona to make you happy? I mean, isn't her…spitfire part of what made you fall for her in the first place?" He laughs again and shakes his head. "Moron."
I knew I shouldn't have said anything to him. I'm surprised he can tie his own shoes. Time to shut this down and get him the hell out of here.
"Let's talk about bigger problems, Elliot. Like your useless, limp dick."
"Hi, Christian." Oh god that soft voice.
"Hi, Anastasia."
"I'm still Anastasia? OK then. I was calling to let you know that after Krav I'm going out to dinner with the new wedding planner Missy hired to tie up a few loose ends and to work out a few kinks. I was hoping you'd want to come."
"I'm going to see John at six. Two hour session."
"Oh, I didn't know that. That's good then. You can meet up with us afterwards if you want, we'll be at The Mile High Club so you'll only be a few blocks away."
"I'll be working tonight." Asshole! She sighs.
"I've tried a few times now to extend the olive branch but you just can't stop yourself can you?" There's a hint of hurt in her voice but the overall emotion is anger. Anger I can deal with, pain I can't. "Are you just hoping I'll obey you? That if you're a big enough jerk to me I'll change my mind? Because it's not going to happen, Christian. Not today, not tomorrow, not a week from now, not a year from now. I will promise to discuss things with you and take your opinion into careful consideration but I will never, ever vow to obey you or anybody else for that matter."
"I'm not doing this over the phone, Anastasia."
"Yes, you are. Because you won't do it at home and you won't do it in the car and you wouldn't do it on the plane before that so we're going to do it now." I'm pretty sure I just had a stroke from a surge of blood pressure and I'm absolutely certain my head just cracked because the head ache wrapping itself around my brain instantly has me seeing spots.
"Watch your tone, Anastasia."
"Or what? You're going to give me the silent treatment? You're going to bully me into submission? Give it your best shot, Grey."
"Just say the word, Ana! Just say it and make me happy!" Why is that so hard? "Just say the god damned word!"
"I'm not going to just say it! I take these vows seriously. They're a reflection of my love and dedication to you and I'm not going to cheapen them or make them less meaningful by lying. Saying something for the sake of saying it only makes the other declarations and promises empty. How do you not see that?" Damn her and her logic.
"I've got to go, I have a call waiting for me."
"Right. A call. This issue isn't closed." Don't I know it.
"Why though? Why do you find a word so important? Do you not subscribe to the rule, 'actions speak louder than words'?"
Flynn locks his stare on me, forcing me into another round of uncomfortable silence that he's so famous for. His suit is particularly ugly today as is his tie, a maroon paisley that I have no doubt Devin would rip right off of his neck. I'm not a squirmer but today I'm as fidgety as they come. It's the lack of sex, I tell myself, convinced that my balls feel heavier.
"Christian? You can sit in silence and continue to stare at my tie while I mentally spend the $650 I'm making off of you this hour or you can utilize my time." He looks down and then back up, pencil poised over his pad. "$1300. I see we have a double session today."
"I can't stand you, you know that?" He smiles.
"Of course you can't. I'm the mirror you can't walk past. Now start talking."
"It's a word. A significant word to me and not to her so why not just acquiesce to what's important to me?"
"Clearly the word is very significant to her as well or she wouldn't be taking it's usage so seriously. Let me start with the obvious question. Do you or do you not want to marry a submissive?"
"What?"
"A submissive. What you're accustomed to? A yes person. You don't surround yourself with them in your office, at least the ones I've met. You hire people you deem smart, tough and driven. You demand respect but want to be challenged. You admittedly have one real relationship outside of Ana, your brother, and in that relationship, one of the things you've mentioned liking the most is the fact that he comes at you head on."
"Your point, John?"
"The word obey is a derivative of the word obedience which means, according to Webster; the act of following instructions or recognizing someone's authority. In essence, by demanding her to submit to your leadership, or, more accurately your authority, you are, intentionally or not, letting her know that you see yourself as more important in the relationship."
"That couldn't be further from the truth, John. If anything, she's got the power here and she always has. It's true that I don't see her as my equal, I see her as far more significant than myself."
"Then why should she submit to your authority?"
"Stop phrasing it that way." He looks down and points to the definition he pulled up on his iPad.
"Why? That's exactly what obedience is and that's exactly what you're wanting from Anastasia." He flips his notebook one page and frowns, "Unless I've written this down incorrectly your opening statement was, 'I'm pissed that Ana won't say obey in her vows and I'm confused by my reaction to Elena's arrest'."
"If she obeys me, if she allows me to make decisions in our life then I can keep her safe, I can ensure that she's healthy and happy and…covered." He takes a minute, tapping one finger on the tip of his nose.
"You have, for a few months now, been handling her security, yes? Including whom her CPO is, how many there are, where she has extra protection, where she can roam freely?"
"Yes."
"And has she in that time even once bucked against you? Made an irrational decision about said protection? Tried to duck them or refuse them?" My teeth hurt I'm grinding them so hard.
"No," I say tightly.
"As to her health, if memory serves me correctly she is a Pilates instructor?"
"Was. Yes."
"Was?" He questions, one brow raised.
"She had to stop due to security issues and availability issues. It was difficult to protect her there and it became clear that people were using her class as a way to get to me."
"And she relinquished that position, something she worked hard for, enjoyed, found value in and dedicated herself to so that she could appease you?" Mother fucker.
"Yes, amongst other reasons." He says nothing, steeples his fingers and nods once.
"Does she execute poor eating habits or smoke? Put herself in the middle of risky behavior including drugs, excessive alcohol usage or promiscuous sex?" He smirks.
"No." I think my jaw just cracked.
"So overall her health was in top shape before you came into the picture and in no way has it declined, am I correct in that statement?"
It takes me a full minute of him just sitting there in his ugly green chair in an ugly brown suit with an ugly maroon tie but I bite out a harsh, "Yes," and all but snarl at him.
"And by…what was the word…covered, do you not mean in your literal presence? Kept from outside influences that you deem as a threat to you? Do you in fact mean to say that you want her to obey you so that ultimately you have the final say in who she spends her time with?"
"Fuck!" I stand and tear at my hair but he doesn't move, he never does. "Nobody could take her from me, I wouldn't allow it but every time I turn around someone is trying to. If I can keep the pariah's at bay then neither one of us has to worry about it."
"And in those constant affections afforded to her by others, has she ever, even for a second, been tempted or has acted on it?"
"Of course not!"
"And do you think that by effectively keeping her on a short leash that she would be less likely to push away from you?"
"I'm finished with this line of questioning."
"Clearly you're not. You're sweating and pacing, you've growled three times in frustration in the last five minutes and you're debating, right now, whether or not to walk out of my office. You're finally thinking about it, Christian instead of reacting to it."
"I'm her husband!" I throw out, spitting as I do so. How does nobody get that?
"Christian, having a husband doesn't mean she loses her free will as a human. You can't keep someone simply by forcing them to bend to your authority. Ultimately that will blow up in your face. You know that, you just need to come to terms with it. You are in love and while you've done amazingly well in a very short time span, the accompanying emotions are new to you. Give yourself a break but do so after you've let the obey bull shit go."
I stare at him, incredulous. "Do they teach you that in shrink school? To curse at your clients?" He doesn't even look up from his notes.
"Just to the pig headed know it alls" He drops his hands and levels with me, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. "Look, I walk a fine line with you between patient and friend. It's not the best thing for me but it's a natural evolution in our relationship. As your friend who knows as much as your shrink I'm going to be blunt. Obey to you has an entirely different connotation to it and Ana knows that. She's a smart girl, Christian. She knows that to have this argument now, to set this boundary now will save countless miscommunications and arguments later. Friend to friend, she's right."
"Did Rhiannon not promise to obey you?" He guffaws.
"Please, I had a better chance of winning the gold in high diving and I'm afraid of heights and can't swim. Now, I think we should move on to your next issue." I wave him off, hands on my hips and walk to the window to stare out the fourth story window.
"Your view sucks."
"Did they teach you sucks at Harvard?" Despite myself I smile at his joke and sit back down.
"Touché."
"What exactly did you find confusing about her arrest?"
"John, in all seriousness, I'm so over her. I so do not want to talk about her or her pshycotic tendencies anymore."
"And yet you struggled when she was arrested."
"I didn't struggle, I just find it frustrating that as far as I've come, I was still minisculy upset at the idea of someone attacking her. It just seems so barbaric. Despite her vileness, she is still a woman and despite the nature of our relationship we did spend a good deal of the last fourteen years in each other's company. I feel...responsible somehow. Like somehow I'm at fault for her being nearly killed."
"Do you have any idea who could have attacked her?" My stomach drops as a wave of heat flushes my face and my head spins.
"No," I lie.
"Have you given it any thought?"
"No," I lie again.
"Is that because you know who did it and you just don't want to think about it?"
"No," I lie so easily three times in a row that it startles me. Honesty has always been my default. "A lot of people hated her. She screwed over people in business and in her personal life. She was mixed up with a lot of unsavory characters and there is a lot of speculation that she was abusing others over the years. The list of potential perpetrators is long and not one I'm going to waste my time on."
He taps his pencil again and puts the pad down, his mouth in a firm line.
"The same way that her actions towards you and others is in no way your responsibility, someone else's attack of her is the same. No matter who it was, you are in no way responsible. You telling your secret doesn't negate the fact that there was a secret to tell."
"They'd have never found her if I hadn't told them about the dungeon. The only people who could have found it were people that had been in it or the handful of people I told about it. Unless someone she trusted convinced her to show it to them."
"Well, if guilt is eating at you, consider the fact that you ultimately saved her life as your atonement. Make no mistake, you have nothing to be atoned for but since you're not easily persuaded, I'll meet you where you're at."
"Where is Ms. Steele, Reynolds?" He looks in the rearview mirror at me.
"Still at the club, Sir, would you like me to take you there?" Yes. Desperately.
"No. Call Bastille and see if he can meet me at Escala in thirty minutes." I don't give a shit that it's eight at night. I pay him an exorbitant amount of money to be there when I call and since it looks as if fucking is out of the question, a good fight is the best I'm going to get tonight. And I've got rage to spare.
APOV
"I swear to Cher if we refer to this color as burnt orange again I'm going to cut a bitch. It is sienna with a hint of pumpkin. Not burnt. Not orange. Sienna. With a twist. Now, if we could get Ana to decide on the processional song we'd be golden. The dj needs the list, like, yesterday and you're over here in LaLa Land in a depressing gray business suit and unfortunate one inch pumps. Are they PBBR?"
"PBBR?" Devin rolls his eyes at me looks at Missy like I'm an idiot.
"Pre-Billionaire Bank Roll."
"Devin," I warn.
"Oh don't Devin me. You're the one in Payless pumps and a ponytail." The wedding planner, a young man so flamboyant he makes Devin look like Vin Diesel sits patiently, chewing his Bibb lettuce salad with extra caramelized onions. Bibb lettuce. Our first shopping trip together.
After staring at Devin long enough for him to shut up, I nod once to Tucker. "I wanted to walk down to Steven Curtis Chapman's 'I Will Be Here'. It conveys everything I want to say in it. He makes a note on his tablet and pulls up the seating chart.
"You've gone over the seating arrangement? I have to say, I've never done a single wedding where every person responded yes to attending. But then again I've never done a million dollar wedding with so few people in such a short time frame either."
"I'm sorry, a million? On what?" I ask, appalled and embarrassed.
Tucker waves his hand in the air, "Oh mostly security, it's not cheap to rent out airspace over the Sound."
"Rent out air space? How can you rent out air space? Who do you rent it from?"
"Oh there's a whole list of people." Devin pats my hand and offers Tucker an apologetic smile.
"You'll have to excuse our Annie, she doesn't watch The Real Housewives, this is all new to her." Tucker nods as if this explains everything. "There's a hag going, Lisa Badlecki, put her next to any Grey that doesn't have a plus one next to their name. So long as Annie here approves of course." Devin continues to hold my hand, batting his lashes my way.
"I'm happy with the way you've structured it though I'd like it if you could put the Fredericks a bit closer to my father and the Grey's. They're guests of honor on my side. I guess My big question is how we're getting everyone off the boat? Christian is pretty adamant about...privacy after ten." Tucker's lips purse with a hidden smile, perfectly aware of my meaning.
"I've spoken to your fiancé and his security staff this afternoon and that's all been taken care of."
"Tucker, are we all set on everything else? I know you're coordinating the travel arrangements with the dress maker but outside of that, what does Ana need to do?" Missy brings everything full circle, politely signaling the end of the business part of our meeting. He gathers his papers and the multitude of pictures he's brought for my approval and finishes his wine.
"No, I'm all set for now. I've got a call with the caterers in the morning and then I've scheduled a call with the band and the dj to set a play list that will flow with the right blend of romance and excitement." He stands and extends his hand to Devin and then to Missy.
"Mr. Davis, it was so nice to meet you. I feel a thousand pounds lighter knowing you're in charge of the day and the details, my only regret is that we didn't hire you sooner." He waves me off and air kisses both cheeks.
"The pleasure is all mine. Please thank your fiancé for me, dinner was superb." As soon as he's gone both Missy and Devin stare at me without speaking. I've done my absolute best to pretend that I'm fine but these are my best friends, they know me. So when Devin orders the chocolate soufflé and pushes it towards me I know he's expecting me to dish.
"Miss, did you say obey in your vows?" Devin slaps his hand on the table and covers his eyes with his other hand, shaking his head slowly back and forth. Missy just continues to stare at me. "Earth to Missy. Hello?" She blinks.
"I'm sorry, I thought you just asked me if I said the words obey in my vows to Logan and since that has to be the dumbest question I've ever heard uttered out of your very intelligent, very independent, very loving mouth, I thought I must have heard you wrong. Obey, Ana? That would be a, how do you say it?"
"A hellstotheno," Devin interjects, picking up the spoon and feeding me a bite. "I take it this was a recent discussion of yours but I'm sure you said no of course so what's the problem?"
"No problem, just trying to work out the kinks."
"Baloney. You've been out of it all night. I mean, Annie, I ate half of your ahi and you didn't even notice." It's a tough balance between needing your friends and their supportive listening ears and trying to keep the boundaries of your love life intact. Ultimately this is between Christian and me and as much as I trust my friends, I also want to honor the man I'm pledging my life to.
"He's traditional," I stutter, searching for a way to seek their council without making Christian look bad.
"Tell me about it, his suits are classics." Devin holds one hand up, "Beautiful, clean lines, perfectly tailored. Nothing wrong with that of course, the man can wear a toga and look hot but he's clearly a traditionalist."
"Right. Anyway, I want to write our own vows, not a problem for either of us but the question on what we'll keep of the traditional vows versus what we'll omit posed a bit of an issue that neither of us saw coming." Missy finally closes her mouth and shakes her head, working out what it is she wants to say.
"I'm a bit taken aback that he'd even think you would have included that to begin with. Is he legitimately upset or is this like when we were about to get married and Logan threw a fit that I had registered for the bathroom accessories without him?"
"No, it's legit. I'm conflicted between wanting to be the best wife I can be and fulfilling whatever vision he has for our life together and doing what I know is right for me and ultimately fair to both of us. Which is the truth from day one," I rush to add.
Missy polishes off her raspberry torte and shrugs, reaching for her coffee. "Just say it then. Make him happy and then tell him to suck it when he tries to enforce your obedience."
"No no no no. Absolutely not. I have taught you better than that Missy Stamper." Devin stares her down and holds my hand. "If you're going to be serious about a vow, if you're going to stand up in front of friends and family and make a promise to someone for the rest of your life, you'd better mean every word. Because if you lie about one thing, nothing else holds any weight."
"That's what I said!"
"And?" This is where I go from hurt and wanting to fix things to pissed off and ready to break things.
"He pretty much shut me down."
"Because you're fighting him on his playing field. Now, this is where the therapist in me deviates from the realist in me. You're dealing with a man who literally fights with people all day long. He's made up his mind long before he picks up a phone or walks into a conference room. He's hardwired to win and there's nothing wrong with that so long as it doesn't bleed into your personal life. You need to fight…not dirty but more…fair. You need to make him see you as his lover and spouse, not another associate. Disagreements to him are about winning, not compromising. You can't fault the guy either, it's how he's become so successful. But you do need to teach him that winning arguments in your marriage isn't nearly as important as finding a middle ground."
"And how do I do that?"
"Trial and error. It's going to take years for you two to establish healthy disagreement resolution but if you lay good groundwork now, not every fight will have you in pantsuits and ponytails. Horrific look by the way. If you want to get him to listen to you, that is not the way to get his attention." He lifts my chin up and offers me a sweet smile. "Find out what it is about the word that means so much to him. Why is he so fixated on it and branch out from there. Find what you can agree on and highlight those things while diminishing the importance of the things you can't agree to." He spoon feeds me another bite of the chocolate soufflé. "If that fails, use what the good Cher gave you."
"Sex?" Missy questions.
"Duh, sex. Of course. What the hell else works?"
But game playing, especially the sexual kind isn't something I'm willing to do. I'd like to think that despite my age and what I'm 'supposed' to do, that Christian and I have something real and sometimes real isn't pretty.
So instead of lingerie and soft lighting I get home and pull out the ingredients for pancakes for the morning, check in his office to see if he's home and then cave and ask Sawyer where he is. I'm not surprised that he's in the gym with Bastille, I know he's as pissed as I've ever seen him and that his coping mechanisms are still fighting or fucking as he so eloquently puts it. My heart sinks at the recollection of his rejection the night before when he refused to come to bed with me. We need to resolve this tonight, I can't do another night like the last one.
I bide my time in the kitchen by calling my dad and filling him in on the latest details of the wedding. He's been in touch with Tucker to host the bar-b-que between just our families that will serve as the rehearsal dinner and distracted as I am, it's still amusing to listen to Special Forces Raymond Steele debate on whether or not he should do steak, chicken and ribs or just chicken and ribs.
"Did you give any more thought into asking someone to the wedding, dad? Maybe that doctor friend of yours in Chicago? I'm sure we could fly her in, no problem." He chuckles and clicks the TV off that was blaring in the background. I can picture the entire scene without even trying.
TV on Fox News, cold bottle of Budweiser in his left hand, remote in his right. He's probably reclined in the blue armchair with a bag of microwave popcorn next to him only half eaten so he can scatter the rest on the porch for the birds.
"Nah, I'm good, Annie. I know you worry about me but you don't need to." When he stands the chair protests, the familiar ping confirming that it is, in fact the blue armchair. "I'm not looking for a relationship right now; maybe in a few years but right now I'm happy with the way things are."
"But don't you have a friend whose a woman that you could bring?" He laughs.
"Oh I've got a few friends who are women I could bring but none of them make the cut. They're fun to spend time with but they're not worthy of going to my daughter's wedding with me." Spend time with? As in…oh god, don't finish that thought.
"Well, if you change your mind, just give us enough time to run a background check." He laughs just as I hear the front door open and the sound of popcorn being shaken around the bag as he dumps it out on the porch. Nostalgia and guilt hit me hard to combine with the frustration I've felt all day and the uncertainty of how to deal with Christian.
"You alright, Annie?"
"Fine, why?"
"Sounded a lot like you just stopped yourself from crying then."
"I'm fine, dad. Just got a lot going on and you being so far away…it's just…I feel like"
"You stop yourself right there, Anastasia. I know you want me married off with a bunch of kids running around and I know you feel guilty that I didn't get that because I raised you instead but let me clear something up. The minute I met your mom, I wanted her. But the second I met you, I fell in love. Sometimes, I wonder if I didn't marry Carla just to have you in my life. You weren't mine but that made no difference to either of us. And the first time you looked at me with those big eyes of yours and reached for me," his voice catches, "I thought my heart was going to explode."
"And the first time you wanted me over your mom, man did that make my day but it was the day you called me Daddy for the first time that shifted the entire axis of my world." He chuckles, "I hated your husband long before you could walk, sweetie. I think every father feels that way, it's why we joke about guns and burial places with your dates. But that's part of life and Annie, you are going to have one hell of an amazing life. I'm proud of what we accomplished together, I'm proud that some of those lessons I pressed on you have helped to make you who you are."
"I've not regretted one sacrifice I made, I've not questioned one relationship I ended or one woman I didn't pursue because of you. As much as I've lost, I've gained a hundred times more so stop with the guilt bull shit. This is how life is supposed to go and I'm ok with that. Now, you never did answer me. Ribs and chicken only or all three?"
When I swallow past the lump in my throat I answer. "Just the two. And dad, you're wrong."
"Oh yea?"
"I would hate it if you had a brood of kids. I like it just being me and you."
"Me too, Annie, me too."
"Hello, Anastasia," his familiar voice greets me softly. I was lost in my kindle, still at the breakfast bar when he walked in so I'm just now getting a look at him. Sweaty, shirtless, low slung basketball shorts, bare feet. Good god if he wants to torture me, this is a good way to start.
"Hello, Christian. How was your session?"
"With Flynn or Bastille?" He asks with his back to me as he pours himself that acai drink he likes.
"I meant Bastille but maybe I should have been asking about Flynn." He smirks over the rim of the glass, finishes it, rinses it and places it in the dishwasher.
"You had a good day?" Subtle deflection. Not.
"I had a tolerable day but accomplished a lot. I was hoping you'd have come to meet the new wedding planner." I see the small twinge of guilt flash across his face but he blinks, moving that mask right back into place. He looks tired.
"I had previous plans. You liked him? The planner?"
"I did." This is so uncomfortable. He walks towards me, kisses me quickly and then turns towards the bedroom hallway. "Are you going to bed?"
"Shower. I've got a call with Tokyo in twenty minutes."
An hour later he's still in his office. I've pathetically stood outside the door to listen but he's been silent, his call finished for the last ten minutes. Yet in his office is where he remains, no doubt in an effort to avoid me. It hurts.
I crawl into bed debating the merits of using sex to get what I want but ultimately decide that no, I do not want to be 'that girl' so I remain in my cotton panties and oversized t-shirt. My eyes are heavy but I'm determined to stay awake until he comes to bed no matter how late it gets but at some point my body refuses my brain and I fall asleep, book in hand.
At first I think I'm dreaming, the sound of pained whimpering pulling me into that space between sleep and wakefulness where nothing makes sense. But when the bed shakes with his thrashing I realize quickly that this isn't my dream, but his.
"Christian!" His body is slick with sweat, the hair on his head matted to his forehead, the sheets and comforter twisted around his legs. "Christian!" I try again and this time I grab his fisted hand, ignoring his mutters of 'no no no'.
"Christian wake up, you're dreaming. Christian!" His eyes fly open and stare up at the ceiling before shooting to me and locking me in with the terrifying vacancy I see there. "Baby? You're safe, you're in your bed in your apartment with me. It's ok," I soothe. Little by little the blank void of his eyes fill with the man I'm in love with, each blink bringing him back to me. "It's ok," I say, my voice catching with my heartbreak.
"It's not ok, Ana. It's not," he breathes, totally still, hands still gripping the sheets, legs straight out, back rigid.
"It's not? But you're just dreaming, you're ok." He closes his eyes and breathes out, shaking his head against the pillow.
"Saying obey, it doesn't matter," he launches at me, still stuck in the dream that has him trembling like a child. "I don't care, just marry me, it's alright if you don't say it," he gasps, hooking his fingers into the band of my panties and pulling them down clumsily.
"I'm sorry…so sorry…just…" he pulls his own boxers down and crashes his mouth to mine so hard I taste blood, "don't leave me." His feet get tangled in his underwear but it doesn't stop him from ripping at my t-shirt. "Skin…I need to feel your skin…"
His desperation scares me and saddens me at the same time. "Christian, I'm not leaving you now or ever. We'll figure it out. I'm not going anywhere ever, I'm with you forever," I pant, gasping from the harsh grip he has on my breast. Between my legs he positions himself, stopping only long enough to ask for my allowance with his eyes.
"Yes," I gasp, gripping his shoulders, my heart ripping in two at the blistering need he has for me.
Without any type of preparation he thrusts in, throwing his head back before he rests his entire weight on me, pressing me into the mattress. His arms snake around my waist, his face buries into my neck and he thrusts, fast and furious and hard all the while begging me to forgive him.
"Yes," I say over and over to ease his fears but he continues to beg until I grip his shoulders and pull him up so that we're eye to eye. "Christian, stop." He stills immediately. "I love you. I'm not going anywhere, I'm not leaving. It was just an argument, we're ok, I promise." He slides deeper and then pulls back, pushes in and shudders. My body is slick with his sweat but even the chill of night can't cool the heat between us.
"We'll figure it out," he promises, one arm tightening around my waist while the other moves around my shoulders. We couldn't be any closer in the physical or in the emotional than we are right now. "We'll always figure it out." Another thrust, then another, then another, his face falling back to my shoulder, the heat of his pants washing over the sensitive flesh of my neck.
"I need you," he grunts against my skin before he bites me and trembles, a whimper escaping him before he whispers my name and comes. He squeezes my body so tightly it hurts but I dare not say anything to him right now. Shivers wrack his body as the seconds tick by, his torso jerking with an aftershock when he tries to pull away. He looks at me then, smoothing my hair from my face and frowning when he sees the swelling of my lip where he's made it bleed.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, brushing his thumb over the tiny bump. "For yesterday, for today, for just now." Gone is the vacant stare, in its place is shame, guilt, embarrassment.
"I forgive you. I just want to be heard, Christian. And this," I motion to what just happened, "is fine. I want you to come to me. Everything else we'll figure out but this, don't regret this. Don't do anything but take from me what you need, I want that for you. For us."
"I do hear you Ana, I do. And you're right on both accounts, the name change and the vows. But this," he looks down between us, sits up and lifts my hips pulling me closer to him even though he's flaccid inside of me, "is not ok. Your body is not mine to use but mine to cherish."
He sucks on the pad of his thumb and then presses it against my clit, sending a shockwave through my entire body. "I don't…I'm not…"
"Shhh," he hisses as he rubs, his other arm holding me firmly to his body while I wiggle and writhe before him. "I need to know you're taken care of. I need to know you're satisfied. I need to make you come. Let me do this, Ana, please."
"Yes," I moan, my body betraying me. I wanted to comfort him, just let him take from me what he was so desperately seeking but if he needs this, I can do this too because my god can the man play me. Within seconds I'm squeezing my eyes shut and arching backwards, my toes tingling. When I stop groaning and bite my lip he pinches the top of my slit and grinds against me one last time, my orgasm so intense that I push him right out of me.
He sits back on his haunches and watches while I come back to earth, the dazed and glazed look bringing him some amusement.
"Stop laughing at me."
"I'm not laughing, I'm happy," he counters quickly and then lays back on top of me. I can feel the mess we've made under my butt on the sheets along with the cooling moisture of his sweat but I have no desire to actually do anything about it. "We're a mess."
"I don't care." He laughs, rolls over and brings me with him.
"Ugh, it's bad over here too. And now you're dripping on me."
"So gross, Christian!" He just keeps laughing as he maneuvers us to a standing position next to the bed. I vaguely register that it's close to two in the morning but give it no more thought as he carries me into the shower, hits the button that indicates the temperature we've decided on together and holds me under the warm water.
The mood shifts from carefree back to apologetic in the ensuing silence. He sighs, strokes my hair and pulls me tighter against his chest.
"I can't keep you by demanding that you stay."
"No, you can't. Just like I can't keep you by pretending to be ok with something that I'm not."
"I know. Let's just…move on."
I grow silent because as tempting as that sounds, as easy as it would be to just let it go, I know we need to really dissect this. "For tonight, we close the chapter. But we need to talk this through and set up some parameters for future disagreements."
"Tomorrow then. We'll back out of the fundraiser at the arboretum and spend the night here. Just us. But for tonight, please just let me hold you."
"God, yes," I say against his lips, my bare feet on top of his so that I can reach his mouth.
Once we're dried off and redressed we both pause on either side of the bed. It's a disaster. Between the twisted, wrinkled sheets and the sweat soaked, cum stained middle neither of us is eager to jump back in so we don't. Instead he walks over to me, takes my hand and leads me to the hallway linen closet, takes out an oversized blanket and a pillow and pulls me into the library.
He lays the blanket over the leather couch, tosses the pillow on and lies down, opening his legs and arms for me to settle between. Once I'm curled up on him he wraps the blanket around us, sets the alarm on his phone and kisses the top of my head.
"Why aren't we just staying in the guest room?"
"Because you can roll away from me in a bed. If you roll out of my arms here, you're landing on the floor." I laugh at his twisted logic. "I watched you sleep last night and as mad as I was, and I was mad, Ana, I still wanted to press your body to mine." I scoot down a bit and press my ear over his chest while one of his hands holds my head against him. "What are you doing?"
"Listening to your heartbeat, it's how I fall asleep at night." My hand reaches up and pulls his down, twining our fingers together. "There, now we're perfect."