Authors note: The 'interview' I write about with Bono (from U2) is totally true, I watched it myself years ago. Love that man and that band!
APOV
Christian wasn't kidding when he said he'd be at the office every minute. Sunday night I awoke around three to find the bed empty, the sheets wrinkled from our love making a few hours earlier but cold from the absence of his body. I found him in his office, coffee in hand on the phone with Tokyo. He didn't know I was watching, affording me a rare opportunity to watch him work without interruption.
Even in silk pajama bottoms and a bare chest he ruled from half way around the world. My brain was fuzzy due to the late hour but his was sharp as ever, firing off instructions, solving problems and organizing his thoughts on the fly. It was clear from his tone that in his world, he's the only one in charge. Frankly, I found it sexy as hell to watch him, the master of his universe.
I still find it hard to reconcile the man I know; loving, sensitive, gentle, sweet and poetic to the man who was sitting behind the massive custom made desk, four computer monitors in front of him. His mind is brilliant, a constantly moving machine made to analyze, break down, evaluate and execute in mere seconds. Rarely, if ever does he question his decisions so sure is he of his abilities. Yet another paradox. A man so confident, so sure of himself was one of the most insecure men I had ever met.
He saw me a minute later, his brows furrowing while he ended the call. He said not a word, just shut the lights off and carried me back to bed where he laid down behind me and pressed me to him. I don't know how long or if he even slept because when I woke at seven, he was already gone for the day, a note left on the breakfast counter telling me how much he loved me.
Monday night was no different, our day punctuated by a few phone calls and pleas from him for me to get some good sleep in preparation for the weekends festivities. He worked at GEH until after I'd gone to bed and then again when he came home to work, the soothing taps of his laptops keyboard easing me back to sleep while he worked in the sitting area of our room so that he could be near me.
He woke me early this morning, between his coming to bed and my waking to make love to me. It was slow but intense, the need vibrating off of him with each pass of his hands over my naked form. 'I miss you', he'd whispered when he entered me in one long stroke, his back flexing beneath my fingertips with each thrust.
When I clenched around him his fingers dug into my shoulders where he held me, his own orgasm jerking him from pleasure to exhaustion so that he fell asleep inside me, his face buried into the curve of my neck. I laid there with him as long as I could to ensure he stayed asleep and then carefully rolled him to his side where he reached out, turned me, pulled me against him and sighed my name never once waking.
Missy and Matt have taken over as much of the administration workload as they can at Steele Translations but I'm still swamped with smaller projects and networking lunches that I can't afford to ignore. Which is where I find myself at two o'clock on this rainy Tuesday afternoon, smiling and nodding to the woman across from me as she tries to convince me to accept the project she wants ST to take on.
"Marina I appreciate the confidence you've placed in my company but a two month on site contract is just not something I can swing right now."
She leans forward and gestures with her manicured hand towards nothing in particular, a bit confused as to why I won't accept her business.
"But Anastasia, it is a fair price and a good opportunity! What can we do to make this work for you?" Neither of us has really touched our grilled shrimp salads but she's had at least two glasses of wine which has made her a bit more friendly than I'm comfortable with. I admit I've not yet found the balance between work vs. personal conversations but I have learned the difference between someone I want to work with and someone I know is trouble. Marina Trejano may be offering me a boat load of money and may have the ear of a lot of influential people, but she's definitely trouble.
"I'm flattered that you've come to me and have chosen me to work with but I simply can't be out of the country, or even the office for that matter, for that long. As a business owner yourself I'm sure you understand that." She flips my comment off with the brush of her hand, clicking her tongue with disappointment.
"You could come back on weekends and there are three holidays that would be left open ended. There is no work that can't be done remotely with the staff that you've taken on and frankly the nature of your business requires that you travel often. " She sits back with a huff and crosses her arms. "If it's your new husband that worries you, I assure you, he has the funds to fly over whenever he would like." I would love nothing more than to smack her right now, collagen lips and all.
I'm not quite sure how to respond so I don't and instead opt to remain quiet in an attempt to temper down my angry retort of 'fuck you'. She stares at me and taps one red fingernail on the glass table top while waiting for me to reconsider.
"The answer is no." She crosses her arms and leans back.
"It is a mistake, Ms. Steele to hitch your wagon to a man," she shrugs, "trust me, I know. I've been married three times already."
"Marina, my reasons for declining your contract are, in fact, none of your business but if you've been married three times than surely you understand that leaving one's spouse for two months at a time is probably not a great way to start off a marriage." Her eyes widen at my audacity but the bitchy mask falls back into place as quickly as it slipped.
"He is a good looking man, your husband." Heat flashes from my toes to my fingertips.
"Fiancé. We're not married yet." Tread lightly you bitch.
"Semantics, he is as devoted to you as can be according to mutual acquaintances." The heat becomes an inferno with her implication but I take the bait, hating myself for asking but unwilling to let her get away with being an asshole.
"How would his devotion to me even come up?" She laughs lightly and motions for the waiter to bring the bill.
"Surely you don't think the women who have been after him for, oh, eight years now are going to roll over and let him go do you?" She flattens her hand across her heart, "I, of course, have never been interested in him but I have quite a few female friends who have made it their mission in life to have some, ahem, personal interaction with him." I'm stunned for a moment. Literally stunned at her boldness but like Kate said when I spoke to her earlier today, this is part of being with a Grey man.
"Are you trying to upset me because I refuse to acquiesce to your contract demands?" The bitch finishes her water and dabs at the corners of her mouth daintily.
"No. I'm merely making a point. You are going to sacrifice potential business because of a man. As a woman myself who has been in the marriage game a few times, I'm making the point that to refuse business for a relationship is foolish. Is he going to make the same sacrifices, Ms. Steele?" She chortles and stands. "Of course not. And furthermore, he is a man. Flesh and blood and eventually, one of those women is going to get her way and where does that leave you? Out a husband and out a contract."
Eyes on me she gathers her purse and nods once at me, "Thank you for your time. I was hoping to establish a relationship between our firms but I see that your priorities are not what I'm looking for in a business owner."
Before she can turn to walk away I stand and block her way, doing my best to not shake at her predictions for our future and his fidelity. I realize that this is going to be part of my life now but that doesn't mean I'm going to sit back and allow it to happen.
"Ms. Trajano, if he hasn't shown interest in your friends for eight years, perhaps they should be the ones you should be speaking to. Not only do they appear desperate and pathetic but now they are nothing more than a common whore trying to lure a committed man to their beds." Her eyes widen marginally at my biting words but to her credit, she doesn't move or even blink.
"Furthermore, I'm not concerned about any female, past, present or future that will have interactions with my husband since I am absolutely confident in his faithfulness which is more than I can say for your previous marriages. And finally, my denial of your proposal has more to do with the fact that at a cursory glance at your balance sheet and five year projections, your company will be in the red before the end of the second quarter and frankly, I have no desire to hitch my wagon to a failing company."
Now that gets her attention, a quick intake of breath into her ruby red lips. Someone needs to tell her that red is not her color. "I do my homework, Marina. If you did yours, you'd know that I have no reason to question my future husband. Thank you for lunch."
And with that I glide out as gracefully as I can, Sawyer close behind me. In the car he says nothing, simply gets in the front seat and starts to drive back to the office but I find myself shaking. At first just a tremble, then a full on shake that is reminiscent of the panic attacks I was experiencing a few months ago. Sawyer's gaze darts to me in the rear view mirror a few times, his patented blank expression gone and in its place a mix of frustrated hesitation.
In the garage he pulls into our designated spot and turns in his seat, one arm reaching back to touch my shoulder. "Ms. Steele, I couldn't help but overhear your exchange with that woman and I know it's not my place but I feel the need to say something." When I say nothing he takes a deep breath and continues.
"You know Bono?" I look at him like he's crazy.
"The singer from U2?" He nods quickly.
"Yes. I saw an interview with him once and the guy interviewing him asked, how after 20 years of marriage he had been able to remain faithful to his wife even though thousands of women threw themselves at him daily. Add in the fact that he was away a lot and could easily hide an affair and his fidelity is really something to be amazed by."
"OK, what was his answer? When he was asked?"
"It was simple he said. To paraphrase, he explained that there are men who would cheat in a normal life if given the chance and men who wouldn't in normal life. He said that his fame, wealth and apparent availability were just add ons to his life but didn't change who he was." He adjusts himself in the seat, a bit flustered at the topic of conversation.
"In other words, if a man's going to cheat, he'll do it anyway, despite his circumstances. If he's not that kind of man, no circumstance in the world will change that. Mr. Grey is simply not that kind of man, Ana. From what Taylor says, he never was and now with you," he gives a half laugh, "I have no doubt he's not that kind of man."
The vise around my chest loosens a bit, a small smile playing at the corners of my mouth.
"Thank you, Luke. I do know that, it's just hard to remember that when someone's in your face like that telling you that there are women gunning for your man." At that he laughs and gets out, opening my door.
"Well, I'm not gay or anything but he's definitely not ugly and as much as I love women, I admit there are a lot of bad apples out there that want nothing more than his money. The thing about Mr. Grey though, is that he's smart as hell. But man to man, there's no question he'd die before he'd hurt you like that."
"What time do you think you'll be home then?" I don't mean to whine but I know I'm doing it anyway. Over the line Christian puffs a bit, no doubt pulling his hair and looking at his watch to do the math.
"You'll be asleep by the time I finish up here and then I'll probably make a few calls from home."
"Will you wake me up like last night?"
"Can I?" He asks it shyly but somehow manages to keep the Christian Grey air of confidence behind the question. "I felt kind of guilty last night but you looked so beautiful laying there in the moonlight with your hair all wild and spread out. Shit, I'm getting a chubby just thinking about it."
I giggle and pour myself an iced tea while Gail finishes up dinner preparations. "Your use of the English language is quite hysterical sometimes."
"Mine?" He half yells with mirth, "How about yours? Amazeballs notwithstanding! Mmmm, balls. I would give you a million dollars to come suck on my balls right now."
"Christian!" He just laughs while my cheeks burn.
"Now I've got an actual hard on and a meeting in five minutes. I should spank you for this," he teases.
"Spank me? You did it to yourself, Grey!" The elevator chimes to alert me of the arrival of Lisa and Heather so I say a quick goodbye and immediately regret not finding out if he was meeting with a man or a woman. Stop right now, Steele! Do not start doing this to yourself.
"Hello Mrs. Taylor, welcome back!" Heather sings to Gail who comes around the counter to embrace her. "I didn't get a chance to catch up at the shower the other day but I'm dying to hear details about everything!" It's odd to know that Heather and Gail have spent time together outside of being with me but the benefit is that they do seem to have a nice little friendship going on.
"Join us for dinner, Gail, please." She blushes and waves a kitchen towel at us to shoo us away but we're a pretty tenacious bunch.
"Come on, please. You made it and we're all in wedding mode so we all want to hear the details. Plus, Christian just said he and Taylor wouldn't be home until really late."
Lisa gives me a look to indicate that she is, in fact, not in wedding mode but she sits down and dutifully listens, interjecting with a question occasionally and smiling at all the right points. I all but kick her when she asks about them having kids but Gail just laughs her off with a firm, 'Not going to happen' and continues on about watching Jason, as she calls him, zip lining through the forest.
After dinner the four of us help clean up and say goodnight to Gail just in time to welcome my wedding planner Tucker in to go over last minute wedding stuff. Besides a binder six inches thick he wheels in a small suitcase behind him, Sawyer following him with flowers in one hand and a tray of Starbucks in the other.
"Ladies," he says, air kissing each of our cheeks before unzipping the bag and emptying its contents onto the dining room table. Sawyer just stands there until Heather takes everything from him and kisses him. His eyes shoot to me but I smile and help Lisa distribute the coffee.
"Now, I've got most everything under control so I'd like to start with what's causing me the most stress." He turns, looks at me and presses both hands to his temples. "Your shoes. I'm about to freak the hell out if I don't have your shoes, in your size, appropriately scuffed and in my possession soon. Blisters on your wedding day are totally out of style."
"I'll be picking them out tomorrow with two of my friends." A thrill of excitement runs through me at the prospect of seeing Hem and Devin together.
"Ana, you're killing me." Tucker pinches his nose and slowly shakes his head as if to fight off a migraine. "I need to see those shoes as soon as you decide on a pair. Now, I realize you have your own stylist for the day but I want to get a rundown as to the whole shebang from hair to toe polish. I want it all listed out so we can just check things off…" he loses me. I see his mouth moving but I hear not one thing coming out of it.
I want to care the way he does but I don't. It's a wedding and I get that but ultimately, I just want to be married. The wedding, at least for me, is a means to an end. Besides spending a ridiculous amount of money on it, it's been a constant struggle to keep things small like we planned. At every turn we've been told that not inviting certain business associates or politicians is akin to professional suicide but neither of us really cares about that. Even Carrick is a bit concerned that by not inviting a handful of associates that we're offending the nation.
Apparently this was the discussion the men had over in the boathouse yesterday during the bridal shower. Christian explained, again, that to invite one associate was to invite them all and that it just wasn't happening but Carrick went on about this judge and that judge until Christian told him to renew his vows and have his own damn wedding.
"...so due to maritime law there will be no rice throwing, something about sea gulls and belly expansion but I thought the bubbles would be nice instead."
"Bubbles?" Lisa is sitting in her chair, face pinched, eyes wide. As my most cynical friend I rely on her to help me out in situations like this but she seems to be fighting laughter too hard to speak.
"Yes, when you're ready to make your departure your guests can blow bubbles at you instead of tossing rice." Tucker pulls out a tiny bottle of something in the shape of a dove and hands it to me.
"I…we're not really…we're not really bubble people…" He looks at me and slowly takes the dove back. "I appreciate the suggestion but I'm fine with them just waving or something…" Lisa bursts out laughing then, excusing herself to use the bathroom.
"So no bubbles?" He looks horrified. I shake my head. "It's your wedding," he murmurs, tossing the bubbles back into the suitcase.
"OK, so then we have six round tables of eight and then your oval table for twelve. Thirteen if your father decides to bring a date but I do think that will cramp things a bit." That old familiar pang of guilt jabs at me.
"He won't be bringing a date."
"It's too bad too," Lisa tosses out, opening the fridge to pour herself a drink. "Ray's a serious hottie. He's got that whole Pierce Brosnan thing going on." She chugs her juice, "Thomas Crown Affair days of course." Tucker's brows raise, curiosity setting in but I pin him with a stare.
"No date."
"OK, so let's run through things then shall we so I can get the programs printed up tomorrow. The rehearsal dinner on Friday will be at yours and Mr. Grey's new home, catered by Five Loaves Catering and your father?" One manicured finger remains raised while he waits to check off my answer.
"Yup. They'll be doing the sides and the tableware and the setup, break down and clean up but Ray will be manning the grill. He wanted to be responsible for Friday and Christian and I are more than happy to let him do his thing."
"And it's just the Grey's and the two of you?"
"Yes," I answer slowly because I'd like to have Hem, Samuel and Jamodo join us as well but I don't want to offend my friends. "We may add three out of town guests but for now, that's it."
"Then you'll be going back to Ms. Kavanaghs for the evening and Franco and his team will be arriving at noon to begin getting you and your friends ready. At two we'll begin to take the professional photos at the residence and at precisely 2:45 you'll all make your way to the boat. At three thirty we'll begin to allow guests to board and at four Mr. Grey will arrive with his brother and father and will be held in the guest room since you'll be in the main bedroom."
I don't know why but it's right then that my missing mother hits me the hardest. I'll be alone. No mother, no grandmother, no sisters, no aunts, no cousins. Just me. My mother won't be at my wedding. Heather senses the shift and interjects a few mundane questions to buy me time to pull myself together.
"At 4:30 we'll depart for our destination. At that point you'll get in your dress," he looks over his glasses at me, one finger poised over his iPad. "And who will be assisting you with that?" I blink back tears, my heart so pained I'm not sure it's even beating.
"I will," Lisa says quickly, one arm wrapping around my waist. "Me, Heather here, Kate, Missy and that woman Hem. We'll be in the room with her when she gets on the boat too." She says it to Tucker but looks at me. I am so not alone. Tucker makes a note and goes on, completely oblivious to the thick emotions clogging up the room.
"At 4:55 everyone will be called to sit, at 5pm you and your father will ascend the stairs from below to the processional song and by 5:20 you'll be married!"
"Just like that."
He nods, "Just like that, sweetie."
"What if someone misses the boat?" He snorts and arranges a pile of papers absentmindedly.
"There isn't one person on earth who would be late for this wedding. Trust me, punctuality is not going to be an issue on Saturday."
Another hour of details that have been dissected and analyzed more than I deem necessary and we send Tucker away, falling into chairs with a humph. He's clearly good at his job but he's exhausting. Who cares about the stem length of the centerpieces? Who really cares if the lemon wedge is in the goblet or poised on the rim? Not me that's for sure. Just get me married and then leave me alone with my groom.
"Man, remind me to never get married," Lisa groans, stretching her arms above her head.
"What? You and Gavin aren't making plans to walk down the aisle yet?" Lisa rolls her eyes and scoffs, standing to stretch her back as well.
"Um, no. We had one really amazing make out session at the club and then yours truly spent the night barfing in his bathroom."
"You didn't sleep with him?" I'm surprised. Lisa's not immune to one night stands and with all the talk from her about bagging her Grey I thought for sure they'd have at least had sex once.
"Nope. I don't even remember anything until the morning but I was still fully dressed. Actually, I was more dressed than I was at the club because he'd put his t-shirt over my dress which now that I think about it was kinda sweet really." She stares out the window for a second thinking. "Once I woke up I felt like such shit I just wanted to get out of there so I took a quick shower, borrowed a pair of his basketball shorts and the t-shirt and got the hell out of there before he woke up. He texted me with a dozen question marks and then asked if I was alright."
"He texted you?" She quirks her brow up and looks at me funny as if thinking about something for the first time.
"Yeah, and I never gave him my number so he had to have put his in my phone or something."
"And how was he at the shower? You saw him on Sunday, right?"
"He was...quiet. Standoffish I guess is a good word. I mean god," she covers her face, "he spent the night with some random strange chick puking in his bathroom." Heather stands then, bored at already having heard this and bends at the waist.
"You still want to do the class or what? It's already nine."
"I do, the room is upstairs, he had it redone late last week and I'm dying to use it. Wait until you hear the speaker system."
In the old submissive bedroom, Christian had the designer currently working on our home spend the day redoing everything so that I could have a private Pilates studio. An entire wall is covered in mirrors and along the opposite wall are shelves holding mats, balls, weights, bands, sliding plates and every other Pilates accessory known to man. Gone is the bed that housed his…friends. Empty is the closet that held their clothes. I like it.
"Sweet. This is awesome, Ana! Grab a mat, I want to try a few new poses out that I think will help with that ball of emotion lodged in your throat right now."
"I do not want to talk about it," I manage to get out.
"I know, you never do but it's better if you get it out now than on the day of your wedding because it's only going to get more real then." I motion for her to start teaching and flatten a brand new pink mat onto the floor to follow her.
Neither of them say a word, we just all fall into the familiar movements and stretches, lost in the lyrics of one of the songs in the playlists I made when I taught classes. Heather uses a unique blend of yoga and Pilates which is a challenge for me physically and one that I really need right now. As if she knows it, she pushes me, demanding that I do 40 repititions instead of 30 or hold certain positions for three minutes instead of two. The sweat is cathartic, the release of emotions like a slow leak less so.
Finally the music fades indicating that our hour is over and we still, our bodies flat on the ground to stretch.
"Ana?" The minute Heather says my name I know what's coming.
"I don't want to talk about it, Heather."
"We know that but you kind of have to. It's been weeks, months actually since everything went down and you've yet to tell us about any of it. Devin thinks you're projecting guilt onto yourself while at the same time trying to figure out a way to keep what relationship you do have with her in tact."
The truth is, I'm ashamed. I'm embarrassed and hurt over what my mother did. I realize that makes no sense, I realize that her sins aren't mine but I'm part of her and logic, I've learned, isn't always part of the equation when dealing with intense emotions.
"Babe," Lisa starts, all three of us still on our backs in the dimly lit room. "You're allowed to cry about it you know. It's super shitty what happened and it's even shittier that it wasn't surprising."
"I do talk about it."
"With who?" Lisa asks quickly, sitting up to stare at me.
"My therapist. It's all we ever talk about anymore."
"And yet you're still struggling. It's great that you speak with her about it but you need to talk to us too." I sigh and roll over to look at them. "She'll steer you in the right direction as far as understanding goes but we're the ones who can help heal you. Use us, Ana. Talk to us. Let us in that pretty little head of yours. We love you."
"I know, I just don't want to talk about it at all. I'm pissed off, hurt, embarrassed, sad. I wouldn't even know where to begin the conversation."
"Start with sad," Heather says, sitting up, hair all messy on top of her head.
I follow suit and sit up, slumping my shoulders. I guess now's as good a time as ever. "My whole life, since I can remember I've been waiting for her to be…I don't know…somebody else. I kept waiting for her to change or something. Like she just wasn't ready to be a mom and one day she would be but I realize now that this is just who she is."
"A bitch," Lisa says bitterly.
"Don't do that, Lis." She looks down, mumbling a halfhearted apology and waits for me to continue. "Christian said she's seeing a therapist twice a week and as much as I've come to accept that she'll never be the mom I want, I still find myself hoping that maybe this will change her."
"It won't, Ana. It can't. She's not capable of it." Leave it to Lisa to cut through the bull shit and the sugar coating. "It'll help and maybe one day you can have something very surface with her but she's eight steps past normal."
"I'm sad for you," Heather says gently, pulling her legs underneath her. "And I get that you're pissed off and hurt, I'd be too. What I don't understand is the embarrassment. Is that why you've been so closed off about the whole thing?" I nod, tears leaking down my cheeks. I am so sick of crying.
"Oh, Ana." Heather crawls to me and sits next to me, holding me with one arm and rubbing my shoulder. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You're a strong, confident, smart, driven, good, loving, steady, wonderful person. You should be proud of who you are."
"I am. But I still feel ashamed by what she's done." Heather opens her mouth to say something but Lisa stands and paces, both of her hands fisted in her hair.
"I'll make you a deal, Steele." She stops and stands in front of me with an intensity that frightens me. "I totally get what you're saying. Totally. For years I carried around shame at what happened to me in tenth grade. It didn't matter that I was completely not at fault or that I had been victimized, I still somehow projected it on me. Something had to have been wrong with me for him to think he could target me. I didn't fight back enough. I was weak and therefore and easy target. The list goes on and on." Both Heather and I remain completely still. In all the years I've known Lisa, she's spoken about her rape once. And she was so drunk she pissed herself.
"Well I'm over that shit. I didn't do anything wrong. He did! You didn't do anything wrong, she did! So I'll make a deal with you. You let go of that line of thinking and I'll let go too." Lisa, my beautiful, spunky red headed friend who drinks too much and surrounds herself with men who she'll never have to open up to because she's cocooned herself in a hard shell is laying herself bare for me. With me.
"Deal." I stand. She looks right at me, her intensity almost frightening.
"Yea? No more blaming ourselves? No more wondering what we did wrong or what we could have done differently?" Her voice cracks, my heart breaks.
"Yes," I whisper. She nods once, gives me the quickest hug in history and bolts for the door.
"I'll call you in the morning. I have got to get the fuck out of here!" I blink at the closing door and look at Heather who's still sitting.
"She can't handle emotions that strong yet." She shrugs and rolls up her mat. "I think it's why she avoids guys who want a relationship. One nighters or fuck buddies is safer for her." She laughs and pulls me towards the door. "I guess we can thank your mom for that breakthrough. Maybe she's not so useless after all!"
CPOV
"Ros, I don't care, in the least, what the Philadelphia branch wants. I don't give a fuck about the history or the establish date or the god damned cheesesteaks. I want that office closed, the administration relocated to the Boston and Nashville offices and the lower level staff compensated and set up with head hunters."
"You got it, boss." She looks up from her notepad and tells her assistant to leave. "You look like shit." I raise one brow and motion for her to leave as well. "You know I can handle this place for three weeks, right? You don't need to cram 30 hours a day into one. I got it."
I lean back and pinch my nose, squeezing my eyes shut. They burn from exhaustion along with my shoulders, neck and back. Hell, my fingers hurt from constant typing, writing or phone holding. I ache, everywhere, my dick included. Five days, five days, five days. It's become my mantra. The light at the end of the tunnel.
Me. Anastasia. Alone for three solid weeks. I've got a few things planned, some sightseeing and local entertainment but the majority of the time we'll be naked and alone. Five days, five days, five days. My head throbs. I don't know if I'll make it.
I'm not immune to 120 hour work weeks. I've even pulled a few 130 weeks but I've never had a sweet, warm body waiting for me at home. Ana. I look at my watch and blink to read the time. 4:48. Not even close to time to leave.
"I'm fine. And I have shit to do before I go and your pathetic excuse for a pep-talk isn't helpful. Get me the final numbers on the Tackas buy out and have Jacqueline bring me a coffee on your way out." I don't look up when she leaves nor do I look up when my coffee is placed on the corner of my desk. It's only as she's leaving that I glance up and notice Jacqueline, her belly now more of a ball than a bump.
She gives me a small smile and asks what I'd like her to order me for dinner. My wife, pregnant with my child, that's what I want.
"Steak. Potatoes and some greens." Five days. If I ever question again if it's worth putting in this kind of time, I just need to remind myself that I'll have three uninterrupted weeks to convince Ana to skip her next depo provera shot in five weeks.
At nine Andrea gives up and says goodnight, leaving the door open for the cleaning crew. I'd rather be working from home but the bulk of what I need is here and I know that if I'm at Escala right now, I'm going to be in my bedroom with my girl.
"Sir, your brother is downstairs. I've had him sent up." Just what I need, another distraction.
"Christian, how's it hanging little bro? Left or right?"
"Not in the mood, El." He burps and sits heavily in the chair in front of my desk, slapping a bunch of papers in his hand.
"I know. Sorry to drop in but I needed to get these approved before you left so we could get the majority of the remodel work completed while you were gone." Now this I'll take a break for. He pours himself a scotch while I lay out the plans for the master suite and the rooms that will be used as an office for Ana, Taylor, the security team and myself.
"I'm thinking that with an extra eight men I can get the entire structure ready for inspection by end of October and I can get you a CO by mid-November." When he turns I notice his hand, wrapped in a loose gauze but clearly injured.
"What happened to you?" He laughs, shoots back his drink and pours another.
"Katie's ex." He scoffs, "Fling actually. Some asshat she fucked for a few months right before me." I tilt my head and wait for the rest of the story. He groans, rolls his head around and sits. "You really want to hear about it? Doesn't really seem your speed."
"What happened, El?"
"Yesterday we went out for dinner. She says she's not upset with the news articles anymore and even went as far as giving some paparazzi the finger when he snapped our photo but if I know anything, it's women. And she can tell me she's not going to let it get to her and all that good stuff but it's shoved in her face every day, man. So I wanted to take her out somewhere nice. I bought her a new bracelet, put a tie on, opened the door for her and everything. I'm thinking Mile High Club, fancy wine and food I can't pronounce. She wanted burgers." I laugh, she's perfect for him.
"So burgers is what we had. I took her to a dive bar about a half hour from here figuring there would be no way any chick I've banged would be there and there wasn't. But Michael Banks was there and apparently he was with Katie up until we met." Jealousy isn't something I'm used to seeing from my brother but it's there, boiling beneath the surface, barely contained. He sips, grimaces and rests his head back.
"Brother to brother, right? I mean, I don't want to be talking about my woman's sex life with anyone but I can trust you, right?" I nod slowly. Brother to brother. I know now exactly what that means. He sighs heavily and leans forward on his elbows. "I didn't notice him at first but after awhile I caught him staring at us every few minutes. So I play it up, hold her hand, kiss her a bunch of times, you know, territorial shit. Well the fucker still came up to us when we were finished. Totally ignored me but gave her this cocky as shit smile and I fucking knew. I asked her about it later, why she hadn't told me he was there and she said exactly what I knew she'd say. 'I don't want to know if there's a girl you've been with, I didn't think you'd want to know either'."
"Fuck! I mean, I knew she had been with other guys before me," he points, "and not a few. But we don't run into them. I mean, most of them were from college down in Vancouver so it's been pretty easy for me you know? And then there he was, arrogant as shit, standing a foot away from her, eyes fixated on her chest and I just lost it."
"How did you know they'd been together?"
"I don't know, intuition or something. I just knew. The way he looked at her, the way she shied away from him, the way he smirked at me," Elliots fist balls up tightly. I have never seen him this way over a girl, not even that whore he found with two of his friends.
"She says, 'Michael, this is my boyfriend, Elliot Grey' and that dickface didn't even let her finish, he just keeps staring at her and says, and I quote, 'I know who he is, he's all over the papers'. Like she needed that reminder. So I stood up and grabbed the back of his collar and dragged him outside."
"What are you, fourteen? You can't just go fighting guys who've been with your girlfriend!"
"Oh, right. Meanwhile, you all but have a tracking device on any man who has so much as spoken Ana's name out loud." Can't argue that. "He had it coming anyway. I was just going to haul him off into the parking lot but he ran his mouth, told me she was the sweetest tasting thing he'd ever been with and didn't I just love to have that on my mouth all day long?"
"So I knocked out two of his teeth and stomped on his arm. I would've killed him but Kate jumped on me and dragged me to the car before I could do it."
"He said that to you?" I would go fucking apeshit if someone said that about Ana. Elliot nods. I pour us each a drink. "You should have throat punched him."
"I know." He looks at me and gathers the papers, suddenly looking a hundred hours more tired than me. "I get it now. How hard it is for her to be confronted by these women all the time. I need to get that ring on her finger sooner rather than later." And then he's gone.
"Sawyer why isn't Ms. Steele answering her phone?" I know she's home, my staff would have informed me otherwise if she had left but I don't like not being able to get a hold of her.
"She's in the workout room with Ms. Badlecki and Ms. Abrams. Do you need me to interrupt her for you, they've only just started their session?"
"No, just let her know I was looking for her when they've finished. You haven't told her about Morton I presume?"
"No, Sir." Good. I want to bestow that little gift to her in person so I can watch her face light up with joy. "There was a letter received at her office today from Carla Adams, Sir. Missy brought it to me with the other mail that needed to be screened but I just now am able to process it."
"Why just now?"
"The wedding planner was here and while I don't think he's a threat, I'm unwilling to give him alone time with her." Good man.
"I'll retrieve it from you when I get home. I do not want her knowing about it or reading it until I've had a chance to see it first. What's the latest with her security detail?"
"Bored stiff. She goes to work, comes home, goes to counselling twice a week and the grocery store on Mondays. Her big outing is the bank on Fridays."
"And the letter's contents?"
"It appears to be a half hearted apology and a list of marital advice."
"Marital advice?" I choke on my water and ask him to scan it and email it to me so that I can read it. Marital advice. This confirms it; the woman is delusional.
I rush through the pile of work as fast as I can. A lot of this shit can wait until tomorrow and after Elliot's brush with an ex and Jacqueline's pregnant belly I really, really want to be home.
But four hours later I'm just putting the finishing touches on a projection analysis that I want to send off to Ros for a final look over when my Google alert pings. The dickweed from the club is talking to the media. Fucking great.
Mystery Man at Center of Club Fight With Billionaire Comes Clean
"I was drunk and stupid and made a bad choice to approach the wrong girl. It's not a mistake I'll make again." Frat boy Brody James seemed almost flippant about the argument he had with Christian Grey and his security team on Saturday night. When pressed as to why he felt it appropriate to touch someone he'd never met before, his answer was nothing short of spectacular. Spectacularly stupid that is.
"She was in a group of people who were all pretty much hands on. I didn't think it was a big deal, men and women dance with each other at clubs all the time. I didn't grab at her like the press and Mr. Grey are making it out, I simply wanted to dance with her and was trying to get her attention. It's not like we were at church or something."
Steam, smoke, fire…they all come pouring out of me in one rushed breath. Taylor comes in, tired and haggard but with his tablet out, no doubt reading the same drivel I just was.
"I want the chapter closed on that fraternity. When they ask why, you can tell them to thank their brother here, running his mouth to the media." I stand, pace and throw the desk phone across the room where it smashes against the wall. "He basically said she asked for it!" My PR department has obviously done a good job at getting the media on our side of this but I want more. I want this man hated.
I round on him and point. "By tomorrow morning I want Debra to have a statement that paints him to be a sexual predator."
Strong language? Too much? I don't give a shit. You don't touch my fiancée and then act like you're the victim. "I thought you said you talked with him? That he was all straight on what would happen if he spoke with the media?" I'm yelling, furious at the fact that I now have to deal with this bull shit on top of everything else.
"I did, Sir. I've got Barney working from home now to try and figure out what happened between then and now but it's a long shot. Our best bet is to wait and see what Welch digs up in his financials tomorrow."
"Take me home," I bark, grabbing my suit jacket and cell phone. He nods as I pass him but wisely keeps his mouth shut. "12 hours, Taylor. You've got 12 hours to shut this down or I'm going to deal with Mr. James personally."
Our bedroom is dark but the moonlight spills enough light in so that I can drink in the sight of the soft woman lying in the center of our bed.
Her tiny frame is dwarfed by the bed, the light blue sheets draped over the curve of her hip so seductive that I almost forget about the hour or so of work I need to do before I can join her. Just a moment to soak this sight in. Anastasia, safe, sleeping, peaceful.
She rolls to her back when I sit on the edge of the mattress, the tank top she's wearing doing nothing to hide the pleasures her body offers. I drag one finger along her collarbone and down the length of her arm and watch with wonder as her nipples pebble. Fuck work.
Decision made I shuck my clothes and slide behind her, the chill of the sheets in direct contrast with the warmth of her skin. She murmurs my name when she feels me tug at her panties, my lips running along the length of her neck, so soft, so sweet.
"Ana," I breathe against her, my feet kicking down the panties tangled around her knees. "Anastasia," I say again, her answering moan coinciding with her hand reaching back to wrap around my neck. She's still half asleep but her body responds anyway, the press of her ass against my groin, the way she grips my hair in her fingers, the uptick of her heartbeat against the palm of my hand.
"Are you wet for me?" My fingertips flutter over her mound, the sparse hair growing there somehow insanely erotic to me. "Did you think of me tonight, baby?" Her other arm flattens across the mattress in front of her, her hips searching for me. "Did you touch yourself, Ana? Bring yourself to orgasm thinking about me?"
"No," she moans, her sharp intake of breath filling the air when I bite down on the curve of her shoulder. Without instruction she lifts her leg and hooks it behind my knee, opening herself to me so that I can explore the place I desire so much.
As usual, she doesn't disappoint.
"You were waiting for me, weren't you?" My fingertips glide through those silky lips…up and down…up and down until she whispers my name and the word please over and over gasping at the slow circles I roll over her clit. I chuckle and press, tapping and circling her as she grinds back seeking total fullness.
Slowly I guide myself in, both of us holding our breath at the sensation of becoming one flesh. How many times have I done this in my lifetime? Countless. But never have I connected with a woman, never have I known the euphoric feeling of being with someone in body, mind and spirit.
Not until Anastasia.
And as usual, the control I so expertly execute, the carefully constructed plans I make to seduce and dominate are demolished with one thrust of my body into hers. I just need to feel her, know that she's real, know that she's mine, know that I give her pleasure and my entire world falls into line.
Thrust. Circle. Thrust. Circle. Thrust. I maintain the rhythm she likes, burying my face in the thick chestnut curls cascading over her pillow until I'm on the edge, balancing in the place where pleasure meets torture.
"Don't stop," she pants, her face turned towards mine so that I can see the ecstasy she's chasing. But if I move, I'm going to come so I double my efforts on her clit and grip her breast in one hand, the tiny groans of pleasure falling from her lips going silent as her body bows against mine, gripping me tight and pulsing around me until she shakes, eyes clenched shut, the hand in my hair pulling and twisting.
"Thank Christ," is all I manage to get out before I come with her, letting her body milk me until I'm trembling and jerking against her.
We lay there, both half asleep, both out of breath, both shuddering from the thrill of being joined together. When I slip out of her she makes no move to get up or roll over and instead snuggles back, wrapping both of my arms around her tightly. The entire exchange took less than 10 minutes and not once in that entire time did she speak or even look at me. But her body knows me and seeks to connect with mine at the most basic level.
On my desk is a pile six inches high but GEH could burn to the ground right now, I'm not getting out of this bed, not even for another eleven billion. The love of my life naked, sated and sleeping in my arms is worth far more than that.