CPOV
"When did you get this?" Her reaction to the letter from her mother is exactly what I had expected. No real reaction at all, just a quiet sadness that upsets me more than if she had ranted and raved.
"Yesterday. It came in your office mail." She looks up blankly.
"Oh yeah, I forgot you were still screening it. Can't you stop that now that Hyde's in jail?" Just hearing his name makes my gut twist.
"No, Ana. I can't. This is one of those precautions that will always be in place." She nods and rereads the letter, letting it drop to the counter before reaching for her purse and shoving it in there.
"Am I still getting threats and stuff?" Totally detached. Nothing in her reaction or the subsequent conversation speaks to the woman I know.
"Occasionally," I tell her truthfully, steering her by the elbow towards the elevators. "Mostly it's what the team considers fan mail but there's at least one correspondence a day that needs to be checked out further." I keep talking to fill the silence left by her mother's pathetic letter. "Nothing like in the beginning when we first got together but that will change once our marriage is made public."
When I got home a half hour ago she was bubbly and talkative, the excitement of going for dinner with the Fredericks making her almost giddy but now she's sullen and morose. The letter itself is stupid, not necessarily upsetting but it's what it's not that I know has hurt her the most. It's not an apology, it's not an acknowledgement of what Carla did wrong. It's just a bunch of drivel that amounts to crap.
"Ana." She stops and turns, her green eyes distant but beautiful in contrast to the gray shift dress she has on. "Don't let it ruin your night."
"Why did you wait until now to show it to me? You've had it for close to 24 hours." Shit. The elevator dings, the sound startling her.
"I got home too late last night and then I was gone before you woke this morning. I didn't want to just leave it out for you to find by yourself either." She relaxes against my hand as it rests on her lower back, the physical connection soothing to both of us. "And then I knew you had your big pitch with the tech firm from Madrid so I didn't want to throw it on you before that."
She turns from me, leans against the wall and closes her eyes. "I got the contract by the way. It's not huge but it's our first tech company so it could mean a whole new network of people." She sighs, the sadness returning to her voice. "If I ever play head games with our kids, kill me." I ignore the thrill that runs through me at the mention of our kids and reach for her, pulling her face to my chest.
"You wouldn't do that, baby. You, Ms. Steele soon to be Mrs. Grey are going to be an amazing mother." Hopefully this time next year…
In the car she remains quiet despite her earlier excitement over seeing the Fredericks again. I don't want anything to taint her night so I go for the win with the news that I know will make her happy.
"Want some good news?" She glances at me and raises her brows, intrigued and waiting to hear what I have to say. I have fantasized about this moment from the time I learned what the asshole did to her. "Morton struck a deal with the prosecutor's office yesterday." Her eyes widen waiting for what I have to say next. "He's agreed to exchange information on his dealer for a reduced sentence but there were so many charges against him including the stolen goods, parole violations, distribution of illegal substances and the list goes on that even with the deal he's going to serve 34 years." She smiles and relaxes back into the black leather seat. "He'll be in his late 70's when he gets out."
"Does my mom know?" That's her first question? Carla? "Because I'd love to be the one to shove it in her face." Now that's more like it. "Any news on Elena? May as well get all the assholes in our life dealt with at once." She waves her hand around, "You know, catch up on the evil in one big swallow."
"Nothing new. My father's been in contact with the departments involved but her case has become so complex that it's hard to get any real information. My understanding, though quite limited, is that the few friends who didn't ditch her when my mother did have all since abandoned ship so nobody has been able to get her side of things since nobody's talking to her. Not that it seems anyone cares anyway though, her salons are all closed and she'll need to sell her home to pay her legal bills."
"But she's still in jail?" I smile at her giddiness.
"Yes. She can't make bail and has nobody to help her out so…" My voice fades as does the tension around us. In its place is the peace that I've become accustomed to. In a few short months we've both faced down our tormentors and for the most part have dealt with the damage they wreaked in our lives. The one exception is Ana's struggle with Carla but I know my girl and she's a fighter. Together we'll find a way to put that behind us as well.
"I approved the final blue prints for the last few structural renovations on the house last night and for the pool. Elliot's picking the signed copies up tonight so he can begin construction first thing tomorrow morning." Her face lights up, the color returning to her cheeks as her excitement becomes evident.
"You did? Did they do the built in bookshelves in my office? And the window seat in our room? I really want a reading nook in there especially for when you want to sleep and I want to read." I nod, my face beaming at her exuberance. "And what about the pocket door between our offices? And Gail wanted the cabinets in the kitchen to have pull out shelves. Oh! And did they add a skylight to the library because Elliot kept saying it would mess up the roof line but I insisted he find a way."
"All set," I laugh, bringing her hand to my mouth to kiss her knuckles. "When we get back, most of the work will be completed. Elliot thinks we can move in by the end of November if we want to."
"So we'll be in for Christmas?" Wow, I get to spend Christmas with her. My god I love this woman. "Because I wanted to maybe host it this year. Grandma Trevelyan said she didn't want to do it anymore and your mom's already doing Thanksgiving. I was thinking Easter at Ray's or Elliot's, I guess we've got time to figure that one out." While I imagine the holidays with her by my side she taps her finger on her mouth, deep in thought. "I don't know how that's doable though. I won't even be ordering the furniture until late October and a lot of it is custom pieces."
"We can always stay at Escala until it's totally done and host Christmas there." She looks contemplative, her lips pursing while she thinks.
"Have you ever had a holiday there?" I shake my head. "Did you do anything to the apartment? A tree? Decorations? Anything?"
I scoff. "Uh, no, Ana. No tree or decorations. Gail would make a gingerbread house for the entryway but outside of that, there was no change." She looks sad and if I'm being honest with myself, it sounds sad.
"Then I think we should take our time moving into the house. Do it right you know? I'm supposed to meet with the designer the Tuesday after we get back but I think we should celebrate the holidays at the apartment." She runs one soft finger over my jaw. "It deserves some love plus I've always wanted to sleep in front of a fireplace on Christmas Eve."
"You realize we have six fireplaces at the new house, right?" I laugh. "There's even one in our bedroom so you can sleep in front of a fireplace every night once we move in."
"I know! How awesome is that?" Her excitement is contagious, the emotion a new sensation to me. "Wait. We never finished our discussion on a new playroom." Her blush is fast moving, the bite to her bottom lip right on cue to finish off her nervous tick.
I lean in and lick her mouth, the blueberry lip gloss she's wearing tonight suddenly making me hungry for a good long fuck.
"There's a playroom. I had Elliot put a hidden door in our bathroom." My hand skates over her leg, up the inside of her thigh to rest on the exposed skin there. "I like you in stockings, Ana."
"I know," she breathes back, her lips moving ever so slightly against mine.
"What about the one at Escala?" Her head falls back when my fingers glide over her panties.
"It stays as is, we can use it whenever we want to get away for a little bit. Plus," I continue, appreciating the speed of her breathing when I slip a finger under the band of silk covering her, "the one in the new house won't have all the same equipment since the room is a bit smaller." I know we're close to the restaurant but if I can get her to stop thinking for two minutes I know I can get her off in time.
"Speaking of the playroom," I say salaciously, pressing my mouth to the spot under her ear that makes her go crazy. The minute I suckle her neck she clenches around my finger with a whimper.
"I need to come, Christian." I chuckle against her cheek.
"I know exactly what you need, Anastasia and I will always be the one to give it to you. In all things." I pump slightly, curving my finger inside her. "Now open your legs a bit wider for me, baby."
"Oh god," she moans softly. "Taylor…he can see…"
"No, he can't. The screen is up. Now relax and let me make you feel good sweet girl."
Less than two minutes later she's a shaky mess, her perfectly styled hair now a bit out of order, her cheeks rosy, her eyes sparkling. I've got a boner to beat all boners but we're here and I know she'll take care of me later so with a satisfied grin I lick my fingers clean much to her embarrassment and then adjust myself.
In the lobby of the restaurant Devin greets us in his usual over the top style. I don't know where he found jeans that glitter, or shimmer as he corrects me, but he has and he's wearing them with a lavender button down shirt that is as conservative as he's going to get.
"Oh come on. It took you what? Nine minutes to get here? You couldn't wait?" He flips his hand around and huffs, reaching up to Ana's shoulders and turning her around so that he can fix her hair.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Dev." He looks at her disapprovingly and clucks.
"Right. Shall I spell it out for you then?" Ana turns a deep shade of red and quickly looks to me to do something. "O-r-g-a-s-m. You just had one. Now let's eat, the hostess said your friends were already here."
At the table are the Fredericks, halfway through a bottle of red wine and well rested after such a long flight. Ana goes right to Hemwatee and embraces her tightly, smiling when Hem holds her by the shoulders to examine her body.
"You have lost weight, baby girl. Samuel order her a fattening appetizer, something with cheese." Ana laughs and swats her hand away, making her rounds to Jamodo and Samuel before introducing Devin to everyone. As they shake hands and pleasantries I take a closer look. I had noticed a small change in the feel of her hips under my hands and I definitely noticed the slight decrease in her breast size but now that Hem mentions it, I'm acutely aware of the weight loss on my fiancée.
As everyone sits to peruse the menu and get caught up on the travel details I lean over as inconspicuously as I can. "Are you trying to lose weight, Anastasia?" She shoots me a look to shut me up and reads her menu.
"No. I've just been a bit stressed out and too busy to eat sometimes."
"Not acceptable. You need to take care of your body, Ana." I've done enough research on pregnancy at this point to know that it's easier to conceive with a bit of body fat and frankly, her not eating is going to lower our chances at a healthy pregnancy.
"I do take care of my body, Christian."
"Clearly you don't. Do I need to have Sawyer report to me whenever you skip a meal? Or should I have Gail hand deliver meals to your office to ensure that you eat?" Her eyes widen and then dart away from me to see if anyone else is listening but the Fredericks are busy falling under Devin's spell.
"I swear, Christian if you do that…"
"Just eat, Anastasia and we won't have to even talk about it. Your health is paramount to me and you not eating is simply not acceptable." At first I think she may continue to argue with me but then her gaze softens. When she lifts one hand to my cheek I'm startled at the gentleness she uses to caress me but then she kisses me and smiles.
"OK. I get what's going on here. I'll pay more attention to what I'm eating." She looks down at the menu and laughs at something Jamodo says. "And Christian?" I raise my brows and lean towards her so that I can hear her whispered words. "When it's time to get pregnant, I'll be extra careful, ok? You don't need to worry about that." The now familiar lump in my throat threatens to strangle me but I nod anyway, willing the emotions to stay below the surface for now.
"Pregnant? Child you had better be speaking in hypotheticals and not in actuals because that shit would be ca-razy right now. For Cher's sake, Annie, I'm not ready to be an uncle yet!" He pops one brow up and points his knife our way, "But if you are preg, and ohmagawd the amount of kegels you need to do if that's the case, Casey and I call dibs on the name Chanel."
APOV
"What style of shoes were you leaning towards, Ms. Steele?" I attempt to take in the rows and rows and rows of white shoes Caroline Acton has laid out on shelves in the private shopping area of Neiman's but I can't take it all in. Behind me Hem whistles and plops down in an oversized plum arm chair, gratefully accepting the glass of champagne Caroline's assistant hands her while Devin puffs out an unapologetic, 'style...I wish...make my life so much easier...style...as if.'
"I hadn't really thought about it past comfort." Devin huffs and pushes past me, walking with purpose to a pair of strappy four inch heals with diamonds running up the center, past the ankle and then around it.
"These are the ones. Wrap 'em up. Size six."
"Devin! I can't wear them on a boat all day!"
"A boat? A boat? It's a yacht, Ana Steele and a big one. Don't you dare call it a boat!" He goes back to muttering; 'worked damn hard...billionaire by 24...sueded sheets on down mattresses...boat...offensive!'
"My feet will kill me in those!" He takes a deep breath, looks apologetically at Caroline and rolls his eyes as he hands her the shoes.
"What did you have in mind my sweet little friend? What attire did you dream of when you were dressing your feet? Visions of you walking down the aisle towards the man of our dreams? Hmm? What did you see? And if you say"
"Flip flops." His head falls to his chest.
"I knew it." Dramatically he inhales and walks to me, fingers pinching his nose, eyes closed, arms crossed.
"Not just plain old flip flops, Dev but the kind with a flower or something pretty on them. I mean, the dress is long anyway and there are some really cute slip ons that"
"Stop," he whispers as if in pain. One hand waves in my face, "Just stop. I can't hear anymore." He turns to Hem and hold his hands out, palms up. "I'm at a loss and short of bitch slapping her, I don't know what to do." Hem leans back, sips her champagne and laughs. "I see. I'm on my own here. Thanks for flying ten thousand miles for nothing."
Both hands raise high in the air but his head bows in benediction. "Hail Cher, full of grace. Our Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Chastity, now known as Chaz. I pray for wisdom in dealing with the fashion inept and the shoe lazy. Grant me the patience to not bitch slap my friend and give me the courage to do it if I need to." Hem snorts and covers her mouth quickly when she realizes he's not kidding. "Be with me now, Cher. Amen."
"The wedding of the god damned century and you want to wear flip flops. Flip. Flops. I just," he waves frantically, trying to find the right word. "I can't."
"Devin. I'm going to be on my feet for hours on the boat. I'm sorry, a yacht. I want to be comfortable. I want to dance and not feel like me feet are on fire."
"I don't give a shit what you want! This is not some Simon and Garfunkel wedding Anastasia Steele! You are marrying a billionaire! On a yacht! In a custom made gown that some woman has spent every waking moment on for days! And you want to slap her in the face with flip flops? No. No! You will wear the Jimmy Choo's, you will wear them the entire time and you will love it." He stands, full height and holds his arms up. "Love it!"
Turning to Caroline he waves one finger in the air. "Wrap them up, Ms. Acton, we need to get out of here before I have a coronary. In ten minutes she'll be telling me to just wear overalls and a pair of New Balance sneakers." He turns, "And nobody should be wearing sneakers! Ever!"
Fifteen minutes later the Jimmy Choo's are boxed, paid for and in the bag at my feet while Hem, Devin and I grab dessert and cappuccino's at the café in the store. It took him another fifteen minutes but he's finally calmed down enough to show me the other things he's chosen for me for Saturday. In front of me is a picture of a manicure and pedicure, already sent in to Franco by Devin himself along with 'suggestions' for my hair as well.
"What time is your wax on Friday?" I blush, a ridiculous notion considering I just tried on a garter set to wear under my dress in front of both him and Hemwatee. "Because you need it. There is no excuse for bush, Annie. None! And stop shaving your pits today too, we're going to need some length for the wax strips." Under his breath he mumbles, "Which is not gonna be a problem for the daisy."
"What is with the total hair removal here in America? It seems so strange to me," Hem clucks, brushing a lock of hair from my forehead. The gesture makes me warm inside.
"No idea but I have to say I think it's only fair. I mean, you want someone's mouth all over it you need to make it a welcoming and inviting place to linger you know?" Oh my god! Devin continues on as if this is the most normal conversation in the world to have with a woman he just met but she just shrugs.
"Samuel seems to have no issue with, how did you phrase it, lingering there. And I have been married to the man for a long time. The problem is getting him to stop wanting to linger." Both of them chuckle, probably not aware at all of the bright red shade of my face.
"To each their own then. I mean, I, for one, appreciate a bit of manscaping. Does Christian manscape?"
"Devin!"
"You're right, my apologies. Too forward." Hem laughs and sizes him up for a minute until he notices and gives her a 'what' look. "I need to know these things for when I sell my story to Perez Hilton."
"I have never met a black man with blue hair before."
"Well I wanted it pink but my boyfriend thinks it would be too obnoxious before the wedding. Pink would clash with the colors we've chosen." He clears his throat. "That Ana's chosen." I laugh because I have had very little to do with the actual planning of this wedding.
"I wonder if you don't dye it to bring attention to yourself in some way though." Both Devin and I exchange a glance at each other and then look to Hem who is running one finger over her lips. "It is as if you are forcing people to either accept you as is from the beginning. It's like an immediate litmus test to determine who will accept you and who will not without having to expose your vulnerability to them first. I mean, if they can't get past the hair, surely the sexuality would be too much for them." For a moment we're all silent but then Devin drops one hand to the table and blinks.
"Well damn, I think you might be right." She nods twice and pats his hand with a smile. "I thought it was just because I liked blue."
"I wonder why you feel the need to protect yourself so brazenly. Here in America it is not a big deal if you are gay, at least that's the impression I get as an outsider. Do you find a lot of opposition to your lifestyle here?"
"Well this got serious quickly," he says with a half laugh. "In general, no, I don't. Most people are just fine with who I am. I mean, we get the haters and the bigots when we go out but overall we're treated just like everyone else."
"And your family?" At that my friend, gregarious, always stoic and always happy gets silent and sad. Inside my heart thunders in my chest at the surge of protection I feel for him. "Is your family who you are protecting yourself from?"
"Only child to parents who are ashamed of their only son. I still call them at least once a month and I've sent them multiple friend requests on Facebook but they're not ready to accept that they have a son who loves men and not women."
"So sad," she says, holding her gaze. "They have a son who loves and is loved and yet they are unhappy." Nobody touches the cheesecake and tiramisu on the table. "And you love well, Mr. Devin. Your patients, your friends, even your family." Beside me his emotions radiate, a mixture of sadness and pain that tears me apart.
"It is remarkable that you have experienced such rejection yet you chose a profession that requires you to be immediately and wholly accepting of others."
"My parents think they did something wrong and that's the reason I'm gay."
"On the contrary. They did something right that despite their stupidity allows you to express your love for others in the form of helping those who can't help themselves." He intakes a sharp breath but says nothing. Devin is so used to being the one to love that it's hard for him to be loved. My hand seeks his out under the table, the smooth coolness of his fingers wrapping around mine tightly.
"Christian speaks very highly of you. He told us about your gift to the orphanage in Monrovia." She pauses, debating whether or not to continue. "We would love it if you brought the costumes over yourself so that you could train the staff in some basic forms of therapeutic play." His lips form a straight line so that his emotions stay in check but I can feel the beat of his heart in my palm, betraying his cool exterior.
"You would stay with me and Samuel in our home. As part of our family for as long as you could stay. There isn't a guest room but it wouldn't matter anyway, my grandchildren have no sense of personal space." He closes his eyes then, his shoulders sagging only slightly before he lifts his face and smiles big.
"I'd love to. Maybe while Ana's working tomorrow you and I could meet with the woman who's running the organization and come up with a plan." My friend, my amazing friend throws back his shoulders to reclaim his usual bravado and pulls out his phone to exchange numbers. "I can probably swing a few weeks off in October, maybe even into November."
Hem smiles and gives him the number to their hotel room. I think I'm off the hook for once but then she moves her eyes to me, the weight of her stare enough to crack the toughest nut.
"And you, baby girl? Is your mother still not attending?" Devin puffs out and slaps his knee.
"Oh thank Cher we're onto you now." I laugh halfheartedly and pick at my tiramisu. "If you think my parents are fucked up, I'm sorry, Mama Hem, messed up, then Ana's mom is the devil incarnate."
"No, she's not coming. But she did send me a letter." Devin's jaw drops as his hand goes out to see it. Without hesitation I pull it out of my bag and give it to him, not at all surprised by his reaction; gasps, 'oh whatever' and 'bite me Carla's' sprinkled in amongst grunts and eye rolls.
"Wedding advise? Is this a joke? And what the hell kind of apology is that?" Hem extends her hand to read the letter. Part of me is embarrassed. About what I don't know but I'm also curious how Hem, so much a mother figure herself will interpret my own mom's words.
"This is not an apology. It's an attempt to downplay what she did. Manipulation." Hem continues on, her lips pinching together, no doubt at the part where my mom wrote, 'It saddens me that our relationship has come to this. It saddens me that in order to speak with my daughter I need to go through a man. I know I'm not blameless in the state of our relationship but I'm not totally responsible either'.
"And this?" She pulls the second page out and looks it over quickly.
"It's a bullet point list of what her best advice is for married life." Hem skims it and folds it back up, tossing it on top of the uneaten cheesecake.
"Throw this out, there is no need for it in your life. You are an adult, you set your boundaries and you enforce them. You and Christian will figure out how to make your marriage work without the help of someone who attaches no value to marriage itself. This is nonsense. We have a saying in Africa. 'Never trust a naked person who offers you a shirt.'"
"Amen, sister. And never trust a woman who leaves a man like Ray Steele for Steve Buscemi's body double."
I'm not at all surprised to find Christian's not at the apartment when I return a little after eleven o'clock. He'd texted an hour ago to say he was 'stopping' by Grey House to get a little work done but I know that means I won't see him for hours so I shoot him a goodnight text and draw myself a bubble bath to relax. His response is instant and simple.
-Sleep naked-
But I don't want another half asleep session. I want to feel his body against mine until I can't breathe. I want the slow burn of the connection we have only with each other and I want it for hours.
I don't linger in the tub too long, I'm tired and emotional and frankly I want to go lose myself in a book. The bedroom, the apartment itself for that matter is so huge when I'm alone in it that I feel like an intruder. Almost as if I'm doing something I shouldn't be doing by simply being in the space. But part of me likes this time alone as well. In some strange way I feel like an observer of my own life, wandering these perfectly clean halls to inspect perfectly decorated rooms and perfectly arranged furniture.
When I first came here, there was nothing to indicate who lived here let alone what their interests were but now, as I stand in the great room in nothing but a t-shirt I'm surrounded by framed photos of us doing the things that have brought us to this point. A snapshot of Christian and I at his parents pool party, one of us at the Mariners game, another of us on the blanket the day of his birthday when we hiked. He'd been lying there in the sun, so perfectly beautiful that I couldn't resist a quick photo but he'd seen me and pulled me next to him, holding up my phone to take a picture of us together instead. Of all of the pictures taken of us over the last few months, this one is my favorite.
Even family pictures have made their way into the house and onto the tables and mantle. An impromptu snapshot of the three Grey kids at dinner one night, all smiling, eyes bright, arms intertwined around Mia in the middle. More of his parents from before I met him, a few of he and his siblings as kids. It had meant a lot to Grace when I'd asked for them, the joy of sharing these memories with me evident by the way she launched into a story of each photo every time she chose a location for the frames she'd chosen.
For as long as I've been with him he's had Gail cover the place in fresh flowers of every sort but my favorite are the bouquets of wild ones she always places in our bedroom. Around me and, I'll admit it because of me, this place has become less museum and more home.
Christian's office, much like the one at Grey House has been taken over by pictures of me in various poses and experiences. Other than the huge ones Jose hung of me there are six in small silver frames scattered over his desk, end tables and the mantle in here as well. All in black and white, all just of me smiling at the man who took them. And like everything else in the apartment, the room is immaculate, not a thing out of place, not a mug left out with the remnants of this morning's coffee, not so much as a dust bunny on the floor.
So a stack of papers on the desk catches my attention, the disarray of them the only thing out of place in an otherwise pristine environment.
In precise and parallel piles on his desk are donation forms for three organizations in Seattle and three in Detroit. Upon closer inspection their focus becomes clear as charities that cater to children who are in need of counselling due to abuse or who are in the foster care system. In his own handwriting he's already begun to fill them out as an anonymous donor. He's not having Andrea or Jacqueline do these nor is he seeking the recognition for his million dollar contributions. This is one man, by himself, offering himself in the best way he knows so that he can be a help to others who are just like him.
I don't know why it impacts me the way it does but the sight of them takes my legs out from under me. He's always been philanthropic and always about issues that were directly related to him. But he hid behind secondary causes like hunger instead of dealing with drug addiction and child neglect. But here, in front of me, is evidence that he's not only acknowledging the things that he went through but that he's accepting them and moving on from them by doing something about it. He's truly facing the heart of the matter and he's doing it in the way he's comfortable with.
To the side is an amendment to his estate plan designating a portion of his inheritance that he wants distributed over these six organizations along with a long list of others, the first one being Feed the Nations. Seeing the words, 'I, Christian Trevelyan Grey, at the time of my death' does not help the unbearable anxiety I have about needing to be with him every second of the day right now though.
Hemwatee, never one to shy away from a conversation based on truth made mention of that when she watched me saying goodbye to Christian after dinner. I didn't think I had been so obvious in my need to be with him but I clearly had been since she brought it up on the way to see Caroline.
"In some ways it is a good thing. You are to be married. Joined together as one unit for the rest of your lives. There is a healthy mixing of souls going on between the two and that is to be celebrated. But you are struggling with something else and I am not sure yet what that is." She patted my leg and looked out the window, the rain lashing against the glass like shards of crystal.
On the way to the hotel, after we dropped off Devin at his car she again brought it up, this time with the surety I've come to love and depend on her for.
"You are afraid of feeling empty and alone on your wedding day because your mother will not be there. He fills that void for you in many ways." She had shrugged and run her hand down my back to comfort me. "It must be hard, to not have your mother with you on such an important day but you must remember one thing baby girl." Her fingers grasped my chin, turning my face towards hers. "It is just a big party. It is all about you and your groom. We are just observers. But the day is yours baby girl, do not let her or anyone else take that away from you."
Of course, as usual, she had been right but I still miss him terribly so instead of facing another night alone in that big bed I grab the book I was reading and bring that and a blanket into the office to rest on the couch. If tonight is like the last few nights the first place he'll come would be here. There was always one last phone call to make or one last email to send so even though I know I'll never stay awake that long, I began to read with the comforting knowledge that I'd be here waiting for him when he got home.
CPOV
"Outside of the mundane bull shit we see everyday there are two security topics we need to discuss. The first is by far the most important." I can tell by the tone of his voice that Welch doesn't want to tell me this. "We intercepted an email to Ms. Steele late today from an unknown person who has declared his love for her, claims she is carrying his child and is demanding that you return her to him."
This is nothing new so I wait expectantly for the real news.
"In the email he included pictures of her leaving her therapists office and also pictures of her having lunch with a business associate yesterday." Now this is concerning.
"She's being followed?"
"Yes and not just by the paparazzi. These pictures are taken on a cell phone and while they're not exactly close, he is getting close enough to get a somewhat good image." Rageful panic sweeps through me.
"What else?"
"He also included the license plate number of the car she travels in, the address of her father's home and the address of Carla Adams along with a list of things he's claimed to have done with her. A manifesto of sorts."
"And you think this is a viable threat?" He nods. "Where are Sawyer and Ms. Steele this minute?"
"In the private dressing rooms at Neiman Marcus. I just spoke with Sawyer five minutes ago and sent Prescott over there to double team with him. Currently their plan is to get dessert at the in store café so I've also sent over an undercover to sit at the entryway there."
"I want her security doubled until we figure out who this sick fuck is and we take him down." I pull at my hair and walk to the window. "I knew this shit was going to happen before the wedding. All the freaks come out. Double her security and have a tail on her at all times. I don't want to tell her, she's got enough to deal with right now. Ray will need a CPO now. You'll take care of coverage for him, I don't give a shit how much fight he puts up."
"The guys seems like a loose cannon, Mr. Grey. I'm not concerned that he has the fortitude or the wherewithal to actually carry out an abduction attempt but his following of her is concerning from a violence standpoint. I don't know that he would hurt her since he seems to think he needs to protect her but Sawyer and anyone else on her detail would be prime targets. Barney is already working on tracing the IP address and my team is already mobilizing some new precautions to take for the next few days. We'll find him, neutralize the threat and continue with business as usual." All I can do is take steadying breaths and believe him.
"If something happens to her…" I sound less like a CEO and more like a husband right now but I can't help it. Ana leaving, in any form, has always been my biggest fear from day one.
"Nothing will happen to her, Sir. This is one of a hundred same type threats she's received over the last few months. It's the proximity of the offender that's concerning and that will be dealt with immediately." I give him a curt nod and walk back to the desk, throwing open the door so my brother can saunter in.
"Boys," he says, acknowledging all three of us in turn, his good mood fading as he takes in the tension. "What's going on?" Leave it to Elliot to ask about the obvious. But as much as he's now included in my day to day, there are some things that are safer for everyone if left quiet so I say nothing, my security team following suit until Welch clears his throat to fill us in on the latest from Brody James. Elliot rolls his eyes at the mention of the name.
"We can only paint him in a negative light and hire someone to look into the fraternity so that we can compile enough complaints to have them shut down should you still want to go that route." Welch puts his hands out in frustration at the demands of mine that he can't legally take care of. I know he's up against a brick wall but I do not want this prick winning by speaking to the media and making money off of his act against my wife. Elliot groans, hands in his pockets and walks towards the sitting area.
"Christian, dude, let it go. You're just making it more of an issue. If you respond then he gets more air time. Do you really think this is the best way to handle the guy? He's 22 for fuck's sake."
"Why the fuck are you here, Elliot? Why aren't you at work or home or just not here? Don't you have an ex-boyfriend to beat up or something?" My dig gets a chuckle out of him but he stands to go, extending his hand to Taylor and Welch who shake it genially.
"I don't know how you people put up with him but God bless you." Before he goes I hand him the blank checks he came here for and the signed contract for the subcontractor he hired for the pool installation. "Let it go, C. At this point you're handing him easy cash. See you fuckers on Friday!" Dick.
"So we're out of options then. He gets $100k and a free feel of my wife…fiancee's body and that's it. Case closed. Fucker wins. Sounds pretty defeatist to me."
"Mr. Grey," Taylor starts, the way his shoulders are pressed back indicating that he's prepared for an argument. "Our best response at this point is none, Debra agrees, Welch agrees, I agree and the police agree."
I toss the copy of USWeekly on the floor in front of him and point. "Did you read that, Taylor? Did you see the picture of him with his broken nose all black and blue that paints me as the aggressor? Did you read the caption? 'Billionaire Beats Grad Student'!"
"I did see it and he got a few thousand for it along with other magazines and websites. The more you play into this the more he makes. You'll have people coming out of the woodwork if you continue this fight because they'll see a confrontation with you as a profitable affair and what better way to get you to react than to go after Ms. Steele?" For the first time in the years we've worked together Taylor stuns me silent with a slightly raised voice tinged with frustration and truth.
Logically, he's right and I know it. But emotionally I want to make a point. Fuck with Ana, you fuck with me and if you go that route, I will make your life hell. But Jason Taylor is right and I can't argue his point when it's so blatantly true. I only make her a bigger target if I put dollar signs in front of her.
"So we do nothing?" My voice is calm, my exterior is calm but inside I'm fighting a tornado.
"Yes." Decision made I dismiss the men with a flick of my wrist and throw back a few scotch's to ease the sting of what I perceive as defeat. She texts me just as my frustration reaches a fever pitch, the contents so simple and pure that the burden on my shoulders lifts enough for me to relax and refocus.
-I love you.-
As if she knew I was ready to lose my shit the words light up the screen of my phone, the instant peace she brings to me squelching the vestiges of anger inside. The reprieve is enough for me to refocus and move on to the long list of things I need to complete before the weekend. Welch comes back in then to have me sign a letter he's written to the Chief of Police on behalf of Detective Cantino.
"You let them know that it was because of him that Grey Holdings was willing to front the cash for the new memorial wall?"
"I did. It was difficult to phrase a recommendation without outright telling him that the man illegally obtained evidence for us but I think I pulled it off." Like the Chief doesn't already know that.
"And his girlfriends whereabouts?"
"Wendy is back here in Seattle. I'm unaware if she was the one who found and brought in Pamela Wincher but she's expected to be extradited in the next three months back to the States." He shifts his stance, crossing his hands behind his back. "From my understanding Ms. Wincher was quite the worse for the wear when she was brought in. I'm not sure if that came from Wendy or from her nephew's parents but I thought you'd want to know."
Finally, good news. "A pity," I mumble, dismissing him for the evening.
"Andrea!" She hobbles in, her foot still hurting from blisters she got while dancing Saturday night. "You've made arrangements for a guide and transportation for the Fredericks from the Fairmont to wherever they want to go this week and next?"
"Yes, Sir."
"And you've been in contact with Mr. Rodriguez over the gift I want to present to Ms. Steele on Friday night?"
"Yes, Mr. Grey. It will be delivered on Friday, Tucker will take care of it until the reveal." Satisfied I glance at my watch, surprised that it's already close to midnight.
"Thank you. Go home. I'll need you in at seven for the Brakenstone meeting. Have Taylor walk you to your car."
By two I have no idea what I'm reading anymore nor do I care. I didn't like the way I left things with Ana after dinner; her clinginess, though I enjoy it, concerns me. I want her well in all ways and knowing that I'm not meeting a need of hers makes me feel totally unsettled inside. And yes, I've fought the urge to lock her down under my watchful eye now that there's a new threat to her safety but I've hit my limit and seeing her, touching her is the only thing that's going to convince me that she's ok.
I purposefully knock loudly on the security door since I'm sure at this point Taylor is sleeping on the couch in there. I'm pissed that he couldn't contain this whole club fight bull shit and even though I've come a long way, I'm still a prick. So when he opens the door, the blanket tossed carelessly over the back of the couch, his gun on the floor next to it I smirk at him and hit the express elevator button.
The apartment is dark and empty, the same way it's been for a few nights now but I know that just down the hall in our bedroom is the person who makes this place a home so that's where I head, tossing my tie and jacket on the breakfast stools as I pass by. I just need to feel her and this lingering fear with evaporate. Tired as I am, I plan on taking my time with her tonight, loving her fully and good so that we can get our fill to hold us over until Saturday night.
Knowing that I'll be with her already has my dick standing proud, the pulsing head acting like a homing device for what it knows is the most exquisite pleasure in the world. So imagine my surprise, and quick panic that follows when I find the bed empty.
"Ana?" I say loudly, assuming she's in the bathroom but noticing that the light is off. Tingles of heat race through each of my pores as the thought of her missing flits through my brain. "Ana?" I say a bit louder, remembering how she has fallen asleep in the library occasionally. My bare feet almost run to the room, also pitch black and empty and it's then that I begin to spiral out of control.
"Ana!" I yell, my feet carrying me from room to room only to be met by Taylor and Gail dressed in her robe and half asleep. "I can't find her, did she leave? Where's Sawyer?" Behind him Ryan steps forward.
"I'm on duty tonight, Mr. Grey. Nobody has left the apartment since Ms. Steele arrived."
"Then where the fuck is she?" I turn and head towards the stairs to the Pilates room and yell her name again as loudly as I can. I'm losing it, in front of everyone I'm losing it.
"Christian?" Her sleep laden voice covers me, the husky sound of my name an immediate balm to my frayed nerves. When I turn she's standing in the doorway to my office, wrapped in a blanket, rubbing her eyes. "Are you calling me?" I almost laugh with relief.
"Where the fuck were you, Ana? Fuck! You scared the shit out of me!" Walking towards her I realize she has nothing but the blanket on, my text from earlier telling her to be naked clearly obeyed except now she's standing in nothing but a blanket in front of my staff, two of whom are men. "Where were you?"
She blinks, eyes wide at my fury and very quietly says, "In your office on the couch. I figured you'd go there first when you got home," her bottom lip quivers and the fear that seized my heart turns to regret at my tone. "I…I didn't mean…"
Her arm goes out to me and the blanket slips past her shoulders. "Ana! You're naked!" I bark, grabbing at the fabric roughly before looking towards the staff hallway to find that we're already alone. She grips the cloth and wraps it tighter, her face awash in confusion and sleep.
"You told me to be," she gasps back a sob, "I wanted to see you as soon as you got home…so I waited in your office and…I didn't mean…" She stops talking, still stunned by my behavior, the likes of which I'm quickly regretting.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you but when I got home and couldn't find you…" She bites her lip to keep it from trembling but the damage is done. Wrapping her in my arms I lift her and press her to me until she pushes back.
"But I'm fine, I was just sleeping in your office," she gestures towards the open door, so vulnerable in her sweetness that it takes my breath away. I can't stop the fear that's taken over though. Anything can happen to her. I can put a million precautions in place and someone could still get to her.
"If something happened to you," I start, stopping when the ball of fearful emotion clogged in my throat threatens to strangle me. "I…" To finally have found her, to finally have found peace and happiness only to have some crazy person with a computer and a gun take that away from me, the thought is unbearable. The loss of her in my life...in this universe, it would be catastrophic.
"Baby, I'm right here. Naked in case you forgot." She jokes but I'm in no mood to laugh. Scenario after scenario of someone hurting her, causing her pain, taking her from me bombard me. My chest rises and falls rapidly but I can't get rid of the fear. The feel of her heartbeat against my lips where they're pressed against her neck is a small comfort but I need more. When I grip her hair in my fist and pull down so that she's looking at me there isn't a hint of hesitation. She knows exactly what I need.
"I need you, Ana." It's a hoarse request croaked out past that pit of fear that I can't swallow down no matter how many seconds tick by.
"Yes." Is all she says and then blanket and all I pick her up and walk with demonstrative steps towards the playroom. I don't stop to wonder if I should take her to our bed; I just go with my instinct and right now, I need her in that room, under my control. Safe. Pleasured. Alive. Sated.
There's no time for her to get into position, no time for me to fully undress. I just grab the ties from the bed, place her where I want her and thrust in, the welcoming hot grip of her body finally, finally releasing me from the fear that had settled in my bones. This isn't about BDSM or even sex itself. This is all about connecting with her, being with her, loving her the way only I can.
Hours later, so far past the point of exhaustion that neither of us could sleep if we had to, she lies on my chest, her chin solidly resting on my sternum as I run my fingers through her hair. We've managed to make it to our bedroom without speaking a single word to each other since she said yes outside of my office but words are unnecessary when you have what we have.
Her gold tipped fingernail scrapes over my nipple, erotically sore from the attention she gave it not 30 minutes ago. "Christian?"
"Hmm?"
"What happened?" I breathe in deeply and slowly, debating the merits of total disclosure with her when she's already so on edge. It's not that I want to keep things from her anymore, it's that I don't want to stress her out unnecessarily. Isn't that also part of taking care of her? Her feet run over my shins, tickling the arch of my foot while she smiles up at me. So innocent. So pure. So mine. And so strong.
"There was a viable threat to your safety. Some crazy who claims to be having a child with you and who had decided that he's going to get you back so that you can live with him. He has Ray's address and knows you live here with me," she sits up when I mention her father so I rise as well, holding up one hand to answer her before she even asks.
"Yes he has security with him, yes we've upgraded his alarm system, yes he's been made aware of the threat, yes he's taking the proper precautions." She visibly relaxes and swirls her hand over my chest, gently tugging at the hair there while I reach up and cup her breast.
"Well," she says, flattening a hand against her belly, "I'm definitely not pregnant so no worries there." I should laugh at her attempt at levity but it just saddens me that no, she isn't pregnant. There is no baby of mine inside of her and while it's her womb that's empty, I'm the one that feels the ache. "Surely that's not what made you panic like you did. I saw the fear in your eyes, you were almost ready to cry."
"Your breasts are perfect. Like teardrop pendulums tipped with the sexiest shade of pink." Her head cocks to the side.
"If you're not going to be distracted by my jokes, I'm not going to be distracted by your sexuality." I roll my eyes much to her chagrin and drop my hands, resting my head back against the headboard. "Tell me. I know we get threats all the time, why is this one so different?"
"It's not in all actuality. But it seems as if he's been able to get a little closer than I'm comfortable with and couple that with the stress of the wedding and that fact that finally all of our demons are behind bars and then mix in the fact that you've been super clingy and needy lately." She looks at me quizzically. "When I couldn't find you, my first thought was that you had some sort of intuition and knew something bad was going to happen and that's why you'd been so needy of me lately."
She stares at me, not laughing or smiling, just looking.
"It's stupid I know but I've always trusted my instincts and I was afraid your need for me lately was just that, intuition and that I had failed you."
"I don't have any feeling like something bad is going to happen, baby. I just love you so much I feel desperate for you. It's not premonition or fear, it's just need. For you. I depend on you so much and while a part of me finds that scary, a bigger part of me finds that really freeing."
Bundling her in my arms we slide back down into the mattress, cocooning ourselves in blankets and pillows to block out the rising sun. With a grunt she hits the button to lower the shades so that the room becomes dark again, the awareness of her pressed to me all that I need.
"I'm not going anywhere, Grey. You're stuck with me. For life. Or as Elliot would say, for life, dude." She giggles, the sound music to my ears but I grimace anyway.
"Ana, for all eternity I want you to promise me one thing." She turns, eyes bright even in this darkness and clasps my hands to her heart, ready to give me exactly what it is I need. "For the rest of our lives, never ever mention my brother's name when we're naked in bed and I've got a boner."