Chapter 9

Christian

The wind is knocked out of me as I land hard on my back. Fucking hell. I propel myself forward and back up. He's too busy smirking down at me to prepare a proper defense, so I knock him back onto his ass.

"Jesus, Grey," Claude chuckles. "What's lighting that fire under your ass?"

"Maybe you're just getting old," I retort, offering him a hand up.

He arches a brow at me. "Another round?"

"I have to get going." As much as I wish I could continue beating the shit out of someone.

"Fine. I'll wait until next time to make you regret saying that, then. Though I pity whoever is pissing you off so much that all of this is coming out on the mat."

It sure is a pity that I can't head over to Fucking Westerley Fucking Tech for a kickboxing match. That's the only kind of meeting that might get me in the door. "See you Thursday."

I head into the locker room and get in the shower. The scorching hot water seems to match my thunderous mood. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me. This asshole's existence is just pissing me off in every possible way.

For one, he's taking up my skyline. He's badgering my people for a meeting with me, even though I told him to his fucking face when he weaseled his way into my parents' home that I'm not interested. And maybe his highest crime of all, he doesn't seem to realize what he has in Ana.

I don't know why this comes to mind for me. Realistically, I have no concrete proof of this. But the way she is with him versus the way she was with me, a long time ago… maybe I'm in a unique position to notice it. Ana is good, purely good, and she deserves someone who makes her obviously happy. That's why she's not with you.

I know I couldn't do that for her, but all of the evidence suggests that this fucker can't either.

I shut the water off. This line of thinking does nothing except piss me off even more, and yet the habit of a lifetime, I find my thoughts drawing back to her more than is practical.

I throw on some sweats, knowing I'll blend in better if I wait to put on my suit at the office, and exit the locker room, my eyes searching for Taylor. They find someone else first, though, as though my obsessive thoughts have managed to conjure her up. This is really just too strange. We've met coincidentally, what, three times now? As though the hands of fate are purposefully pushing us together over and over.

She's standing outside of a group exercise room, appearing to have just finished a workout. It's the first time in many years that I've seen her wearing so little, in a tight, matching shorts and sports bra ensemble. Her body is so much the same, and so different. She has the same petiteness she always had, but with more womanly curves, a bit more of an hourglass shape, and more visible musculature to her.

To be frank, she looks as fuckable as ever, and my cock agrees.

She hasn't noticed me gawking as she scrolls through something on her phone, so before she does, I speak, echoing words she's said to me recently. "We must stop meeting like this."

She startles and looks up, looking a bit like a deer in the headlights. It seems that every time she sees me, she looks like she's deciding whether or not to bolt. "What are you doing here?"

"This is my gym. I just got done with my trainer."

She's made no move to step forward. "I assumed your trainer would come to your apartment building."

I don't know why I find all this faintly amusing. "Sometimes he does. Sometimes I want a more specialized space for it. I'm here often, it seems that you're the interloper."

She sighs, seeming exasperated. "Kate recommended this place. I just like to do a class a few times a week. It wasn't intentional."

That must have been a bad joke, as her mood seems to have taken a dive. "Elliot comes here sometimes too. I suppose that's where she heard about it." I decide to change the subject. "I never pinned you as a morning person."

"Yes, well." She doesn't elaborate.

I try again. "Mia mentioned that you came to her restaurant."

"Mmm, yes," she mumbles, rubbing her eye roughly with her fist.

I return to being amused. "Am I bothering you?"

"I just haven't had coffee yet and wasn't expecting human interaction."

I realize I have never seen her this early before. Conscious, anyway. It's barely 6 am. "I thought you didn't like coffee."

She eyes me, one corner of her mouth turning up. "I didn't. Now I do. Part of growing up, I suppose. Does Mia also come here?"

"No. I think Mia has a personal trainer elsewhere." I pause. "Seems you two are getting closer."

She shrugs. "We ran into each other at a coffee shop and got to talking. She's been very helpful with a business plan I'm working on."

This piques my interest. "I would think you have built-in help with that at home," I speculate.

Her small smile disappears. "Cam is less about the business side of things and more the creative." She really shrinks every time she talks about him.

I want the smile back. "What sort of business plan?"

I'm relieved when it returns. "Ironically, I'm looking into helping build a tea room."

I don't know what I was expecting to hear, but it sounds so… her. "So, you haven't forsaken tea entirely."

"Certainly not."

"How did this come to you?"

"Long story short, I went to a local bookstore and got to talking with the owner, and she wants to expand her shop to include some sort of refreshment, so this is what we came up with."

"Who is investing?"

She arches a brow. "Me."

"Just you?"

"That's all we need."

My skin prickles as I think about the risk of being the sole investor. "How much do you really know about this shopkeeper?"

Her brow furrows in confusion. "What?"

"Have you run a background check?"

"I… can't say that occurred to me, no. She's a sweet older lady."

"This really isn't safe," I say firmly.

She looks at me incredulously. "That's ridiculous, for one, and also really none of your concern."

"Has your safety ever been your own concern?" I all but snap.

She rolls her eyes, and in another life, that would have made my palm twitch. It's still maddening in this one. "Okay, it was nice to see you, Christian." She starts walking away.

What the fuck? She can't just leave now. I quickly catch up to her. "What are you talking about?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Where's your CPO?"

She's still walking. "Isn't that a robot from Star Wars?"

Oh, for the love of all that is holy. "Are you telling me you're engaged to someone who's just amassed a large fortune and you have no security?"

"It seems that the only stalker I have is you," she retorts.

"It's incredibly irresponsible of you to have no one protecting you, Ana, not to mention the fact that he hasn't insisted. How in the world is your safety not his top priority?"

She stops abruptly and turns around, her expression a combination of hurt and shock and anger. My own frustration cools a bit at the sight. "Fuck you! This is none of your fucking business."

"Jesus, Ana, I—"

"Taylor! Come and get your man." She's ignoring me now, calling over my shoulder.

Is she fucking serious? And now she's storming away. "Ana! You will not go."

Instinctually, I realize a beat later that I had used my Dom voice. I freeze and so does she. "You do not tell me what to do," she hisses. She goes to leave again, and this time I let her go.

I blink a few times, trying to absorb what even just happened. That went from zero to a hundred and fifty in no time.

I feel Taylor's presence next to me. "Where to, sir?"

I continue to stare at the door she just left through, then begin walking forward towards the garage. "Grey House."

There's a light knock at the door and Andrea peeks her head inside. "Mr. Grey, Mr. Riedel is here."

"Send him in." My tone is sharper than necessary, but my day took a hard left turn this morning at about 6 am and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it.

She nods and he comes through a moment later. "Mr. Grey."

"Progress report." Distract me.

He hands me a folder, then sits across from me and opens one of his own. We flip through and he discusses how his team has begun expansion with AI technology, primarily in our farming overseas and our cyber security. By the time we've gone through everything, the better part of an hour has gone by, and I'm feeling uncharacteristically impressed.

"How does this compare with Westerley Tech?" I ask.

"To my knowledge, sir, they're not working on anything in these realms. We're setting a distinction."

"Excellent work, Riedel."

"Thank you, sir."

"Back at it, then," I dismiss him.

He thanks me and leaves, and almost immediately, I'm back at my stewing over what happened with Ana. This woman is beyond frustrating. She just doesn't see things clearly. She's doing reckless things with her personal safety and with her finances, and somehow I'm the bad guy for pointing that out?

My phone lighting up on my desk catches my attention, and I see it's Mia calling. Normally, I would let her call go to voicemail during a work day, and if I'm honest, most of the time, but in this situation, I realize that she might be a good sounding board. "Mia."

"Christian! Wow, I'm blessed with an answer. I was planning to just leave you a rambling voicemail."

"How are you?" I stall.

"I'm not bad. To what do I owe the acknowledgement?"

"Just wondering what you've been up to."

She's silent for a moment. "This wouldn't have anything to do with my budding friendship with a certain lady from your past, would it?"

I sigh. My life used to be private and elusive even to family members, and that's how I liked it. Now I'm reduced to asking my little sister for advice. "I ran into her this morning at the gym, and we didn't quite part on good terms. She got angry at something I said."

"What did you say?"

"I only pointed out that she should have security and that she might be putting too much trust in her new business colleague, the bookstore owner."

She's silent for a few beats again. "Okay, Christian… I feel like there's a way to say things, and you probably bungled it completely. Did you express friendly concern and curiosity, or did you try to give her orders and talk down to her like a child?" I don't answer. "Okay, so it's the latter then. Look, Kate has mentioned the same thing to her, that she might benefit from some security, but she didn't say it in a way that would piss someone off. You're my brother and I love you, but you just have a way of steamrolling over people when you talk to them. If you want to be her friend, you have to think about that."

I'm used to being authoritative in my public and personal life. I was always more lenient with her, but her words come back to me. You do not tell me what to do. Perhaps she doesn't have fond memories of that part of our dynamic… "I worry that she doesn't know what she's doing."

"In what sense?"

"She's investing in a stranger's business."

"She's done this before, and she has some astute ideas. Honestly, why do you care so much? Run a background check if you're so worried."

"I've already done that." As if that wasn't the first thing I did when I got in.

"And?"

"She's clean."

"So… you had nothing to freak out about."

"It's the principle of the thing."

"Why are we talking about this if you just want to be right? Is it possible you just got it wrong?"

I'm feeling… uncomfortably challenged. But what she's saying also has an undeniable ring of truth to it, and I hate that. "What do I do then?"

"You could try apologizing. Or you could do nothing. If she's a casual acquaintance that you see at parties sometimes, it doesn't matter so much. If you want a more personal relationship—"

"I should apologize." I'm not used to doing that. I hope I can find the words.

"A novel idea." I hear a smile in her voice.

"Thank you for the… advice."

"I'm useful in some ways. Why don't you come by the restaurant sometime?"

"Why? You need the publicity?" I tease.

"Ha, ha. No, I just might like to see you sometimes."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"This call is already longer than the voicemail I was going to leave."

"Let's get back to our days, then."

"Yes, you go Google 'how to apologize.' I assume you never learned."

"Ha, ha." I know how. In theory. "Bye, Mimi."

"Cheerio."

I hang up and go to dial Ana's new number, then I stop. She's never given me that herself, and I'm assuming she'll know under what circumstances I have it. She was never a fan of my 'stalking' behavior then, and I can't imagine she'll have warmed to it any more now.

Then how the fuck am I supposed to do this?

I can't just wait to run into her again. I could write a letter, but I feel odd about the postal service handling this. I could write something and have it delivered. Or I could go there myself.

Maybe now would be a good time to do that. It's the middle of the day. She probably won't be home. And I am morbidly curious to assess what kind of home that fucker picked out.

My employees look at me like I've lost my mind as I walk to the elevator, and maybe I have. But something about being on Ana's bad side just feels… intolerable. Correcting it feels like the most important business I could attend to today.

"Can you follow behind?" I ask Taylor as we descend.

"Of course, sir."

"And when we get there, don't get out. Just be discreet."

"Will do, sir."

I get into my car and he drives with my other personnel. I've brought writing materials with me, and I figure I'll just make sure no one is around, then take some time to put down my thoughts and leave them there. Ana has alluded to the fact that Westerley works late, so hopefully she will be the one to find it.

I appreciate that I have the drive to figure out what I'm going to say, but by the time we make it across town, I'm still drawing a blank. The GPS directs me to pull into a long driveway, and it leads up to a cubic house that looks very… modern. A bit cold. Not particularly Ana. Quite honestly, it's a carbon copy of all the others in this development. No character, no originality, and no style.

There are no cars outside, and I hope that means she's out. I pick up the notebook and flip it open when I hear a sharp tap on the window.

Ana is staring at me through the glass, looking confused. I roll down the window. "What on earth are you doing here?" she asks.

"I didn't think you'd be home," I hedge.

"It's a lot more probable for me to be here than you. I won't ask how you got this address, I'm sure I already know."

I get out of the car, and she takes a step back with crossed arms. If this is what we're doing, let's do it inside. "May I come in?"

She glances at the other car parked several yards down the driveway. "Just you or your entourage too?"

"Just me."

She uncrosses her arms. "Fine." She walks towards the house, and I follow.

Inside is about what I expected, mostly black and white, sleek lines, looking remarkably un-lived in. Is this how my apartment looks to people? "This is the place?" I remark.

"So it seems." We stop in a living room and she sits down on a large, white couch. "Now what do you want? Are you here to give me another lecture?"

She hasn't invited me to, but I sit down on the other side of the couch, and she doesn't protest. "I came here to apologize. I was going to leave a note."

Her brows knit together, but her eyes and posture soften. "You… what?"

I don't have anything planned, but I do my best. "You have experience running a business, and I have always known you to be a sharp, intelligent woman. My comments about that were uncalled for and baseless. And while I do think it would be most prudent to have some personal protection given your new economic standing, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. It was completely out of line, and I'm sorry."

She stares at me with her mouth slightly ajar for what feels like a long time, to the point that I genuinely begin to wonder if she's going to respond. "You came here… to apologize?"

"I would hope that that's obvious by now."

"It's… the middle of the day."

"Yes."

She still looks incredulous. "Don't you have work?"

"I always have work. But this felt important. I didn't want to leave things like that." We left things unsettled for years. I really don't want to go back to that.

She turns her gaze down to the rug beneath us and takes another long pause. "Thank you."

"Does that mean I'm forgiven?" I ask, trying to keep the hope out of my voice.

"Yes." She clears her throat. "I'm sorry for what I said too."

I smirk at the memory of her yelling 'fuck you' at me. I wish you would. I know she's not available, but these thoughts don't just turn off. "You're forgiven."

"I don't think I do enough out of the house for one."

"One what?"

"A bodyguard." Oh, she's changed the subject. "Isn't it so awkward having them follow you around?"

I shrug. "I guess it's my normal. I hardly notice it. You don't have to talk to them. Just do what you would normally do."

"I just don't know."

"You might at least install a security system here? Or have a team in a separate wing?" There's a minor edge in my voice which I recognize as anxiety over her safety, but I'm hoping this comes off as a friendly suggestion.

"That might not be a bad idea," she concedes.

I feel a touch of relief. "I've always considered your safety. That's all I meant by this."

"I think you just like to be bossy," she says with a small smile.

Remember how bossy I can be? Some of it she liked. The room feels a few degrees warmer. "I'm used to being in charge."

She bites her lip, then quickly averts her eyes. "I'm sure you have to get back to work, and I was about to get myself some lunch."

I'm about ready to scold her for not eating yet when it's nearly 3 pm, but I realize I missed my lunch hour too. And right on cue, my stomach loudly growls. "I should probably do the same," I chuckle.

"You didn't eat yet?"

I shake my head. "The day got away from me."

"Well… I could throw something together for you. Since you're here."

My heart skips a beat. "You would do that?"

She shrugs casually. "Sure. Come on."

I see that she already has a pot boiling on the stove. "Is pasta salad okay?"

My stomach groans again. "Sounds great."

She pours half a box of pasta into the boiling water and gets some things out of the fridge. A cucumber, a pint of tomatoes, a jar of Kalamata olives, some marinated artichokes, and feta cheese. "I was in the mood for some Greek flavors."

"Fine by me."

I sit at the kitchen island and watch her chop up the ingredients. "Cam would die if he knew you were here."

"How?" Of jealousy?

"In case you hadn't noticed, he appears to be a fan of yours."

Ugh. "Is that so?"

"It is. He often complains that your office doesn't return his calls."

"I thought we had made it clear that his services aren't needed. We are contracting an excellent team in his field already."

She nods. "Well, he's tenacious."

"Incessant," I mutter.

She stifles a laugh, staring down at the tomatoes she's slicing as though they're the most interesting thing. "This has been a strange day," she comments.

"Tell me about it," I agree.

"Have you ever done this?"

"Done what?"

She glances up. "Made a journey specifically to apologize to someone."

An unpleasant memory creeps up, and I stiffen. "Once." She looks at me, confused. I doubt she wants to hear that I went to her old apartment to try to speak to her after the incident and she was already gone, and truthfully, I don't want to talk about it in her lover's home. And suddenly, in the reality of this, I don't want to be here at all. "Actually, I should be going. Thank you for the offer of lunch, but I'll get something back at the office." My work here is done, and the feelings rushing in aren't pleasant.

She stops chopping. "Oh. Yes, of course. Well, I'll walk you out."

I stand up and walk behind her as she leads me to the door. She stops and turns to face me when we get there. "Thank you for coming. I appreciate it." Her voice is soft, and her gaze sincere.

It makes my already empty stomach do a flip. "You're welcome."

"I'll see you around, I suppose." She opens the door and steps back to let me through.

"Until then." We stand a few inches apart as I look down at her, close enough that I can feel the warmth from her body. I inhale and enjoy the familiarity of her scent for just a moment, then command my feet to carry me forward.

I don't look back until I allow myself one glance in the rearview mirror. She's still standing there in the doorway watching me, and I find myself in a conundrum where staying feels wrong, but leaving does too.

A/N: Thank you to the reviewers. One of the best parts of this creative outlet is getting to share it with you and hear your thoughts and theories! I appreciate this little corner of the internet so much.

And to those anonymous reviewers who always have something negative to say or feel the need to announce their departure as though this were an airport, to you I say, from the bottom of my heart: stay mad ;)