June 2nd 2011 – afternoon
.
I have been on the phone and in meetings all day. I've barely had time to think through Anastasia's morning and mine together, aside from my drive back to the hotel.
When I do arrive, I've just stepped into my hotel room, when there is a rapid knock on the door.
I go to answer it. It's Taylor.
"Taylor, what is it?" I ask. He looks concerned.
"Sir, there's been an emergency back home."
"What about?" I inquire, my thoughts immediately straying to my family, or Elena. Has something happened to one of them?
"It's about Leila, sir."
"Leila Williams?"
"Yes, Sir."
It has to be more than coincidence that we were just talking about her this morning. It has to be.
"What's happened?"
"Sounds to me like some sort of psychosis or severe depression, Sir. She's attempted suicide."
Suicide?!
Despite my lack of feeling for her, pity wells in my chest for the poor girl. Last I heard, she'd moved on, found someone else—though not after a lengthy wallowing period. She's supposed to be happy, married, and leading a satisfactory life.
I'm already heading back to the bedroom to pack my things.
"Meet me in the lobby in ten, Taylor," I command, my back already turned.
.
In the car, it occurs to me that I'm supposed to be having dinner with Anastasia and her mother tonight.
"Shit," I mutter under my breath when I realize I'm going to have to cancel our plans. I feel a slight, muted tearing sensation in my chest when I realize I'm going to have to leave her without saying goodbye in person.
I press speed dial, but her phone rings six times and then goes to voicemail. She must be busy. I can't bother to leave a message—I want to at least speak with her. A goodbye over voicemail just wouldn't suffice.
Taylor is silent in the driver's seat as he zips down the Interstate, headed back toward Hilton Head. The jet is on standby, waiting for us.
My phone buzzes in my hand and I glance down at the screen. It's her.
"Anastasia," I answer.
"Hi," she mumbles. There's some sort of commotion in the background. She must be out in public somewhere.
"I have to return to Seattle. Something's come up. I am on my way to Hilton Head now. Please apologize to your mother—I can't make dinner."
"Nothing serious, I hope?"
"I have a situation that I have to deal with," I tell her, "I'll see you tomorrow. I'll send Taylor to collect you from the airport if I can't come myself."
"Okay. I hope you sort out your situation. Have a safe flight."
"You too, baby."
I hang up.
.
When we land at the airfield in Seattle and I switch on my phone, I see I have a missed call from Dr. Flynn. Before we left the hotel, I called ahead and made sure Leila would receive the best of care from him. He promised me that he'd do his best.
I call him back as we debark and head toward the waiting car.
"John Flynn," he answers, clearly distracted. He mustn't have checked the caller ID, because usually he greets me by name.
"John, it's Christian," I say. Dr. Flynn is one of the few whom I allow to call me by my first name.
"Christian—" He begins, sounding both relieved, and yet panicked, all bundled into one.
"What is it?"
"There's been a new development," he explains, "Leila has escaped from the psychiatric ward where she was being treated."
"Shit!"
.
evening
.
I have been insanely tense since the moment we've arrived home. My mind has been going a mile a minute, and I can't seem to calm it.
Some irrational part of me wants to fly back to Savannah to be with Anastasia—or more, to bring her home with me; all I want is to have her here with me, so that I can bury myself inside her and just forget.
I'm on the phone with Flynn, and though he tells me there's nothing new, that they haven't caught a trace of her yet, I'm pushing for as much information as I can get.
Across my study, my laptop dings, announcing an incoming email.
I go to check it. And it's Anastasia. At least at the top of my list. There's work that needs to be taken care of, a flagged email from Ros, a couple from Elena regarding my missing ex-sub, but it's Anastasia's e-mail that I click on.
…
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Safe Arrival?
Date: June 2 2011 22:32 EST
To: Christian Grey
.
Dear Sir,
Please let me know that you have arrived safely. I am starting to worry. Thinking of you.
Your Ana x
…
Shit. With all that's being on, it's completely slipped my mind to let Ana know that I've landed and I'm home, safe.
I would be furious if I were in her shoes right now.
I type my reply in haste.
…
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Sorry
Date: June 2 2011 19:36
To: Anastasia Steele
.
Dear Miss Steele,
I have arrived safely, and please accept my apologies for not letting you know. I don't want to cause you any worry. It's heartwarming to know that you care for me. I am thinking of you, too, and as ever looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
…
"I'm sorry, Christian," Flynn is saying now, "I would tell you more if I had anymore information—there just isn't a lot to go off right now."
Exasperated, I run a hand through my hair and pace a couple steps away from my desk. "Can you at least tell me if she's at risk?"
"Other than to herself, I don't believe she's a risk to anyone, no," he confirms.
A small frisson of relief runs through me, but it's not enough to assuage the other racing thoughts in my mind.
"Alright," I relent, "Let me know if you hear anything."
"Of course, Christian. Goodbye."
"'Bye for now." I press the 'end' button and slip my Blackberry into my pocket.
My computer pings again, and I turn back to it expectantly. It's Anastasia again.
…
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: The Situation
Date: June 2 2011 22:40 EST
To: Christian Grey
.
Dear Mr. Grey,
I think it is very evident that I care for you deeply. How could you doubt that? I hope your "situation" is under control.
Your Ana x
P.S.: Are you going to tell me what I said in my sleep?
…
Immediately, my mind is drifting back to this morning, when I revealed to her that she talked in her sleep. And then, it drifts even further, to last night, as I laid awake for who knows how long, watching her sleep.
And then listening to her talk in her sleep… She asked me not to leave her, and I promised that I wouldn't, but in her unconscious state, she didn't seem satisfied. She also promised that she wouldn't leave me, and the memory of it fills my heart with equal weight and disembodiment—just as the time I heard her say it.
…
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Pleading the Fifth
Date: June 2 2011 19:45
To: Anastasia Steele
.
Dear Miss Steele,
I like very much that you care for me. The "situation" here is not yet resolved.
With regard to your P.S., the answer is no.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
…
…
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Pleading Insanity
Date: June 2 2011 22:48 EST
To: Christian Grey
.
I hope it was amusing. But you should know I cannot accept any responsibility for what comes out of my mouth when I am unconscious. In fact—you probably misheard me.
A man of your advanced years is surely a little deaf.
…
Oh, I am more than certain that I heard you correctly, Miss Steele.
She said it loud and clear, no mistaking it.
Amusement rises in me, for the first time in what seems like hours, reading her words. I can always count on Anastasia to shift my mood, and it's something I desperately need right now.
Smirking, I type my reply.
…
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Pleading Guilty
Date: June 2 2011 19:52
To: Anastasia Steele
.
Dear Miss Steele,
Sorry, could you speak up? I can't hear you.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
…
…
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Pleading Insanity Again
Date: June 2 2011 22:54 EST
To: Christian Grey
.
You are driving me crazy.
…
…
From: Christian Grey
Subject: I Hope So…
Date: June 2 2011 19:59
To: Anastasia Steele
.
Dear Miss Steele,
I intend to do exactly that on Friday evening. Looking forward to it.
;)
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
…
Someone raps their knuckles on the doorjamb to my study, and I glance up. Gail is standing in the doorway.
"Mr. Grey, dinner is ready and sitting on the breakfast bar. Would you like to eat now, or shall I put it away for later?"
"I'll be right there, Gail. Thank you." I flash her a brief, polite smile, which seems to throw her off. She nods quickly, and disappears.
I return my attention to my inbox.
…
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Grrrrr
Date: June 2 2011 23:02 EST
To: Christian Grey
.
I am officialy pissed at you.
Good night
Miss A. R. Steele
…
Oh ho ho. Someone's getting all formal with me. And growling at me.
I chuckle quietly to myself and lower my fingers to the keyboard.
…
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Wild Cat
Date: June 2 2011 20:05
To: Anastasia Steele
.
Are you growling at me, Miss Steele?
I possess a cat of my own for growlers.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
…
Ha. Let her make of that what she will. If she's done extensive research, she'll know that what I'm referring to is my cat of nine tails. If not, she'll be rather confused right now.
I head out of my study and into the kitchen, where Gail has left me a steaming bowl of seafood linguini. It smells divine. I pour myself a glass of Sancerre to go with it, and sit down to eat.
I finish the food on my plate quickly, surprised by how ravenous I am.
Once I've finished, I sit back and compose one final e-mail to Anastasia on my Blackberry.
…
From: Christian Grey
Subject: What You Said in Your Sleep
Date: June 2 2011 20:20
To: Anastasia Steele
.
Anastasia,
I'd rather hear you say the words that you uttered in your sleep when you're conscious, that's why I won't tell you. Go to sleep. You'll need to be rested with what I have in mind for you tomorrow.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
…
.
Friday, June 3 2011
.
After my morning workout and breakfast, I drive myself to the office. I am thankful for the day ahead, and the distraction it will offer.
I have a long conversation with Ros, regarding the Darfur shipment, which is due to be sent out tomorrow.
I talk with Bill about the plot of land in Georgia, which I barely had time to see between my gliding with Anastasia, and the emergency that brought me home.
I meet with the team about the solar powered cell phone.
I fire two people.
I speak with Flynn multiple times, and they still have no idea where Leila is.
The situation is infuriating, and quite frankly, panicking. To think that I could somehow be responsible for this is sickening. I just want to find her and have her well again.
For some reason I can't fathom, this is all too familiar, in a ghostly sort of way.
It makes me think of the crack whore. What I would have done, had I not been a young, feeble child, to help her. To get her the help she needed… I shake my head to dispel the thoughts.
I resent this woman. She chose prostitution and drugs—especially drugs—over the life of her own son. I could have—I stop myself, and pick up the stack of papers off my desk, flipping through a few, trying to distract myself.
My day is almost done.
My Blackberry buzzes on the edge of the desk and I pick it up without checking caller ID.
"Grey."
"Mr. Grey, Taylor here," he addresses me.
"Yes."
"I'm just heading out now to collect Miss Steele from the airport," he informs me.
"Fine," I murmur, glancing out my office window. The skies are clear. It will be a smooth drive back to Escala. I took the R8 this morning, knowing Taylor wouldn't have enough time to drive me home and then head to the airport in time to meet Anastasia.
An array of emotions knots my insides when I realize how close I am to seeing her again. Relief, anxiety, and a need so potent it slows my pulse and drags my blood lazily through my veins.
Though it's only been a day without her, it feels like an eternity—especially with what's going on—and I am desperate to see her again, to be with her, to have her in my arms, and in my playroom.
.
I step into the apartment half expecting Taylor and Anastasia to have already arrived. They haven't—the apartment is empty; Mrs. Jones is nowhere to be seen. Before I can head into my bedroom to shower and change, I need to call Flynn.
"John Flynn," he answers on the second ring.
"John," I greet him, "Any news?" I pace over to the wall of windows at the end of the great room.
"I'm sorry, Christian, there's nothing. No trace."
"No trace…" I repeat, "Okay."
"I'll keep you updated, but I'm not going to call if nothing's changed."
"Yes," I agree, and though I see the logic in his words, I know I'll call him again in a few hours.
Suddenly, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. When I turn to process it, I see Ana standing there. Her hair is pulled back, away from her face, and she's wearing a short skirt, which makes her legs look amazing.
Immediately, every ounce of tension inside me releases, and oh—I want her. I need to have her. Now.
"Keep me informed," I say to Flynn, suddenly aware that he's still on the line. Without waiting for his answer, I end the call and stride toward where Anastasia stands across the room, staring at me. The expression in her eyes calls back to me, straight to the marrow in my bones.
I don't think I've ever wanted her so much. This past day has been hell without her, and I think I'm only beginning to realize that now. I need to feel every inch of her, to know she's here with me, to know that we're both safe and well. She answers to something deep inside me that I'm only beginning to become aware of. She calms me, she stills the storm inside me.
On my way past the couch, I remove my jacket and tie, slinging them over the back of the piece of furniture. Then I'm in front of her, and before I even touch her I can feel the warmth coming off her skin, and I can smell that sweet, delicious scent of hers.
I crush her to my chest, aware I'm being a little abrupt, but I don't care. The absolutely dire intensity for her is all I can think about in this moment. I need to have her. I don't care what else is going on around us, I just need her in this moment.
I grip the end of her ponytail in my fist, tilting her head back, and I crush my lips to hers. At first, she doesn't quite respond—a little taken aback by my eagerness, I suppose. But as I pull the hair tie out, she kisses me back, her fingers weaving their way into my hair, I bite back my groan.
Oh, fuck, that feels good.
After another passionate moment, I break our kiss, so I can pull back and stare down at her. She stares up at me with piercing, wondrous blue eyes.
"What's wrong?" she whispers.
"I'm so glad you're back," I explain, though my words nowhere near offer any justice for my feelings, "Shower with me—now." It's not a request.
"Yes," she acquiesces. I grip her hand in mine, her skin soft and smooth against my palm, and lead her into my bathroom.
I turn the water in the shower on, and turn to stare at her again, drinking in every inch of her exposed skin, the shape of her body through her outfit. Those long, luscious legs…
"I like your skirt. It's very short. You have great legs."
I remove my socks and shoes, never taking my eyes off hers, afraid that if I look away, she'll disappear. I'm trying not to think too hard about the overwhelming need I have for this woman. I've never felt this connected to someone—ever, in my entire life. Truthfully, it scares the shit out of me, but what scares me more is imagining life without her.
She keeps her eyes on mine, wide, as she slips her feet out of the plain, flat black shoes she wears.
I can't restrain myself any longer. I lunge for her, pressing her against the wall. I litter a menagerie of kisses along any part of her skin I can find—her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her jaw, her mouth, her throat. I rake my fingers through her hair, feeling the warmth of it, releasing her scent into the air between us.
Desperate to be closer, I press my body against hers, trapping her between my chest and the tile wall behind her.
I barely feel her hands on my upper arms—surprised I'm not panicking at her touch.
A low groan escapes from deep in my throat. "I want you now. Here… fast, hard." Each word is a burst of breath from my chest. I am so, so hard. Harder than I've been in a long time, and I'm going to burst if I don't fuck her now. Not only from sexual frustration, but from all the other emotions which are pent up inside me, filling my chest like an over-full helium balloon. I'm going to explode.
I push her skirt up her thighs—the skin feels like silk against my palms.
"Are you still bleeding?" I ask her.
"No," she answers, and blushes.
"Good."
I push her skirt up around her waist, hook my thumbs into the simple, innocent white cotton panties she wears—only Anastasia could make them look so insanely sexy—and I pull them down as I kneel in front of her. I want to taste her—it's been too long.
Gripping her hips, I push them against the wall, holding her in place, and I lean in to kiss her. Oh, she smells so sweet… And tastes divine.
I move my hands to her thighs, pushing them apart so I have more access to her. Then I lean in again, circling my tongue firmly around her clitoris—which is already swollen, and she's already soaked. She groans loudly at my touch, her fingers knotting themselves in my hair.
It's not long before I feel her body begin to quiver, and I know she's getting close. Though I would like to do this until she falls apart, I'm feeling selfish, and I want to feel her come on my cock.
I stop, stand, and grip her face in my hands. I push my tongue in her mouth, forcing her to taste herself on my tongue. In the same instant, I unzip my fly, freeing my aching erection.
I lift her, lining our bodies up.
"Wrap your legs around me, baby."
She snakes those long legs around my waist, her arms around my neck, and I thrust myself inside her. I sink deliciously into that wet, warm tightness, and I'm home. I've been home for more than 24 hours, but this, this is where I feel safe and unguarded and totally at ease.
Quickly, my control shatters, and I'm plunging into her again, and again, faster and faster. This is where I need to be, right here.
She lets go just in time, her muscles spasming around me, triggering my own release. A feral, unrestrained growl releases from my throat as I pour myself inside her. I shove my face into her neck, groaning loudly. The bliss is so overwhelming, all powerful, and completely sating.
Thank you, Anastasia.
I'm still panting as I kiss her. She stares, almost blindly, at me for a moment. But then her disorientation seems to clear, and as it does, I set her carefully on her feet.
"You seem pleased to see me," she says softly, smiling shyly.
The room is steamy and hot now—I don't know if it's from our fucking, or if it's from the heat of the water in the shower.
"Yes, Miss Steele, I think my pleasure is pretty self-evident. Come—let me get you in the shower."
I strip quickly, and start on Anastasia's blouse. She stands tamely before me, and I can feel her watching me as I release each button.
"How was your journey?" I ask, mostly because it's just something to talk about. I know she was in good hands—again.
"Fine, thank you. Thanks once again for first class. It really is a much nicer way to travel." She grins at me. "I have some news." There's apprehension in her voice.
What is it?
"Oh?" I say, slipping the last button through the button hole. I pull her shirt off her shoulders and discard it on the floor, on top of my own clothing.
"I have a job," she announces.
I freeze, an array of emotions coursing through me at so fast a speed I can't settle on one. Finally, I decide that I need to be happy for her—it is the most appropriate response.
I smile at her. "Congratulations, Miss Steele. Now will you tell me where?"
"You don't know?" she asks.
I shake my head, feeling my lips turn down. "Why would I know?"
"With your stalking capabilities, I thought you might have…" Her words come to a halt, and I have a feeling it's because the expression on my face is changing.
I'm wounded by her assumption. Does she really think I would infringe on her personal life, just like that, just because I want to?
"Anastasia, I wouldn't dream of interfering in your career, unless you ask me to, of course." And if it was required for her safety.
"So you have no idea which company?" she confirms.
"No. I know there are four publishing companies in Seattle—so I am assuming it's one of them."
"SIP," she tells me.
"Oh, the small one, good. Well done," I tell her, and plant a kiss on her forehead. "Clever girl. When do you start?"
"Monday."
"That soon, eh? I'd better take advantage of you while I still can." I try to ignore the heavy emotion blooming in my gut. Something like dread. She'll be busy come Monday. She'll no longer be available to my every beck and call. I'm worried I won't see her as much. "Turn around."
She does. I unclip her bra and unzip her skirt, removing both, revealing that perfect body of hers. That ass.
I can't resist taking it in my hands, and kissing her shoulder, admiring that fine, flawless, porcelain skin of hers.
"You intoxicate me, Miss Steele, and you calm me. Such a heady combination." I kiss her hair, inhaling deeply as I do so, and then I pull her into the shower, under the downpour of water.
"Ow!" she shrieks.
I grin at her. "It's only a little hot water," I tease her.
After a moment, she seems to adjust to the heat. What can I say? I like my showers hot.
"Turn around," I tell her, and she turns her back to me immediately. "I want to wash you," I nearly whisper, reaching for the soap on the shelf, squeezing a little into my palm.
"I have something else to tell you," she says as I begin to massage the soap into her shoulders, releasing the fragrance of it into the air.
"Oh yes?" I try to suppress the apprehension I feel rising again. She sounds even more nervous than when she announced her new job a couple minutes ago.
I feel, with my hands on her, rather than hear, her take in a breath.
"My friend Jose's photography show is opening Thursday in Portland," she announces, stressing the word 'friend'.
I can't help but freeze. That fucker. After what he tried to pull on her, how can she possibly still consider him a friend? The thought despises me.
"Yes, what about it?" I ask, trying, and failing, to keep the anger out of my tone.
"I said I would go. Do you want to come with me?"
I suppress a huff at the way she's asked. Topping from the bottom again. She hasn't asked me permission, and so I can't forbid her to go, which angers the hell out of me.
But then, I remind myself, I need to respect her wishes. Compromise is what she's after, in the end. And this would be the perfect way to show it.
When I've regained some composure, I begin to wash her again. Running my hands over her body helps to bring reason and peace back.
"What time?" I finally feel I can ask.
"The opening is at seven thirty p.m."
I duck in to kiss her ear. "Okay."
As long as I'm there, it should be fine. And besides, I want to do things that she enjoys doing as well. I want to learn everything I can about her. This seems like a good place to start. If things are going to work between us, I know I'm going to need to start respecting some of her wishes. It doesn't stop me from wanting all of her, all of the time, but she's done so well adjusting to my lifestyle—I have to give her credit, and now it's my turn to try and adjust to hers.
I feel her relax.
"Were you nervous about asking me?" I ask her.
"Yes," she admits, "How can you tell?"
"Anastasia, your whole body's just relaxed."
"Well, you seem to be, um… on the jealous side," she says defensively.
"Yes, I am," I agree menacingly, "And you'd do well to remember that. But thank you for asking. We'll take Charlie Tango."
"Can I wash you?" she asks me now.
"I don't think so," I tell her, and kiss her neck to soften the blow. I know she doesn't understand why I won't let her touch me. None of the other submissives did either. The only difference here, is that I wish I could let her touch me. I want it with all of my might, but… I just can't let her.
I move from her front to her back.
"Will you ever let me touch you?" she asks after a moment, and I'm surprised by the strength of bravado in her question.
"Put your hands on the wall, Anastasia," I order, "I'm going to take you again."
I grip her hips, bending her forward, and I sink steadily but slowly into her, finding bliss once again.
.
I want to thank everyone so much for your support on my last post. It means so much, and numerous tears have been brought to my eyes, knowing that you all understand.
I'm taking things day by day, still giving myself time to grieve, but I also know that I can't let it take over my life. I have a daughter I need to take care of, a house that needs up-keeping, a husband who needs a present wife. That keeps the depression (which has haunted me for years) from rearing again through this horrible time.
I know that everything happens for a reason, however. I have great faith in the fact that God has a plan for my life, and that he did this for a reason.
The worst thing about it, is that it is so common for a lot of people. It's an awful thing to go through, but many people go through it.
Thank you immensely for your patience on this chapter.
I truly appreciate you all so much.
3
xo