Chapter Eight – Everyone Has Secrets!
Ana
Sitting up, I listen to the series of rings on the other end. When she answers, I finally jump out of bed with the phone against my ear.
"How are you?" she blares excitedly.
"I'm fine, just wish I could sleep a little longer," I groan.
"Of course," she chuckles, "What time is it over there?"
"It's. . . . a quarter to nine," I say glancing at the tiny antique-looking alarm clock on the nightstand, "I took a bunch of pictures yesterday."
"I want to see them. Send them to me when we're finished talking, I'm on a break right now."
"Oh yeah, how's rehearsal going?" I ask pacing between my luggage and the bed.
"Grueling. The Choreographer and the Director fight almost every day, they can't see eye to eye on anything. Rumour has it they were together, and it all went south last year. Now they can't keep it professional for a whole day. It reminds me of the love-hate relationship you have going on with Christian. How are you two getting along? Besides the physical attraction"
My eyes shot open as I pulled the phone from my ear like it burned me. "Nice try, Kate," I resume, keeping my voice level, "We're not attracted to each other"
"Oh, the attraction is there alright," she taunts, "and you're not a good actor. You should have seen the look on your face when he kissed you two days ago. You like him, don't you."
"It's not like that, Kate. I swear"
"Oh c'mon, I promise I won't tell Elliot."
"That's impossible, you tell him everything and you're imaging things between Christian and me. . ."
"No, you're in denial about what's going on between Christian and you. Anyway, I didn't call to talk about your theoretical imaginary feelings for Christian, the man you're not attracted to," she pauses then sighs, "I have to tell you something" I stop my movements and station myself on the floor, her tone is very solemn. "He called this morning . . . he's coming, Ana."
My stomach suddenly lurches. Weeks ago, I heard that he was unable to make it, due to a few unforeseen business constraints. Then again, I shouldn't assume that he wouldn't do what is necessary to witness his only sister walk down the aisle. Kate's parents had already confirmed their attendance weeks ago, but Ethan declared that he'd be a no-show. On the other hand, this scenario should have played out in my mind anyway, the what-ifs.
Bothered, I place my hand on the side of my face, "Is he coming alone?"
"Yeah"
Another prayer is unanswered, and silence stretches for a second time. In the quietness, I hear a light knock on the door that brings me out of my light uneasiness. "Thanks for telling me, Kate. I have to go; Christian is outside my door"
"I hope I didn't spoil your morning," she says concerned.
"Of course not. Chances are I had to see him again and I can't hide every time he comes around. . . . I'll send the pictures soon. Love you"
"Love you too, Ana."
Ending the call, I toss my phone on the bed and head for the door. Christian's eyes are cast downwards with his hands deep in his pockets rocking on his feet. My eyes subtly do a double take at his attire, one thing I admire about him is that he doesn't permit his clothes to dictate his features. He possesses his own brand of confidence and style; in fact, he commanded it. Donned in a blue suit, white shirt, and brown shoes with a matching tie, he raises his head when I step into the doorway.
"Good morning," he greets, positively.
"Good morning," I reply, clasping my hands together in front of me.
He takes a moment to examine my face, "Are you alright, did I catch you at a bad time?"
"Uh . . .no, I'm good," I pretend.
The news of Ethan's attendance is probably showing on my features. His eyes leave my face dipping to the length of my robe giving me a thorough once-over. "I just wanted to say goodbye and to enjoy your day with Mrs. Bergner. I know she's a bit talkative. . ."
"That's okay, I like her stories," I reassured him with a tiny smile.
"No doubt. I know she'll ensure that you have a good time. We can have lunch when you're done."
"Um, Mrs. Bergner and I are already having lunch at the Opera House," I say awkwardly, "I thought you'd be busy at the conference. . ."
"That's okay," he interjects, somewhat disenchanted, "Taylor arrived this morning, he'll be with you at all times looking on. I promise he won't hover, but he won't be far away."
"Thank you"
He brings his left hand out of his pocket and my eyes catch a glimpse of his ring. It's the only thing that appears inept on him, it doesn't suit him, and it looks like an accessory. To me, a man's wedding ring is an intimate, reflective piece. His, however, is a simple platinum band. It's supposed to exude masculinity and compliment his authoritative appeal.
"Anastasia . . . last night I was wrong to reproach you for something you have no knowledge of. You don't know me, and there are numerous things I don't know about you. Even though we haven't outlined every detail in our arrangement, there are a few things that are understood or implied. By no stretch, we're not obliged to divulge our personal lives to each other. I don't know what came over me," he says dubiously, looking past me into the room.
He's speaking to me, but he doesn't look at me, the moment feels inappropriate and bereft. I'm about to interject but my mind is saying that it's best he continues.
"I got carried away, maybe I had too much to drink or maybe it's this marriage thing," he tries to explain away, "Through my annoyance, I branded you as mine and I shouldn't have done that, and in the future, I'll be sure next time to keep my emotions in check. I apologize if I made you feel any discomfort in Ricardo's presence. As agreed, we live our own lives without compromising each other's reputation, this is a business agreement void of personal sentiments and I displayed mine without consideration last night. Whatever misgivings I have for the people around me I won't let it influence our agreement."
My eyes become weighty, blinking rapidly whilst trying to fight the oncoming sting of the finality of his words. I struggle for control of my emotions as a sudden uneasiness threatens to surface. But the strength I'd built over the years shut the hole in my heart that was created by one man I trusted who took everything hopeful and innocent and crushed it in the palm of his hand.
"I get what you're saying," I state crossing my arms, straightening my posture, and shielding myself from his energy, "Don't worry about it, I felt the same way. Everyone had so many questions regarding the wedding, it was kind of hard to keep up," I lied and forced an unwanted smile. "Like you said before, once we keep this thing strictly business it won't be a problem. No inappropriate actions, no inappropriate feelings"
It was quick, but I swore there was a tiny flick of emotion or regret in his eyes.
He stares at the floor until he finally nods, "We're having dinner with Ricardo and his wife at eight."
"I remember," I answer, trying to sound neutral.
"You enjoy your day," he concludes.
My eyes remain glued to the spot where he stood until I hear the door to the suite close. I can feel my consciousness glaring daggers at me, I agreed with him just to save my pride. I could lie to Kate, but I can't lie to myself, and now I'm stuck with the one thing I've been avoiding since Elliot came up with the idea.
My feelings are evolving for a man who feels nothing for me.
Christian
This is getting complicated, and complications I do not like. She's supposed to be distant, just another figure like Amos or Andrea, but she's becoming more. At the party last night, everyone revered her. They couldn't stop congratulating me on how beautiful or how splendid she was and how lucky I was to capture such a woman. Weeks ago, we were screaming at each other in front of her apartment over a stupid accident and now she's my wife, my fake wife.
The morning passed in a blur, and I was unable to focus on the presentations given over the last four hours. Whenever Taylor sends updates on my wife's excursion, I'm constantly looking forward to it. Now and then, my preoccupied mind would go over her fiery, sarcastic side and then there's her spirited quirkiness. Anastasia is a sexual contrast, and she defies my boundaries, I've grown accustomed to her wit and her tenacity to antagonize me every day, and in return I find myself caring about her more than I should. Originally, we agreed to lead separate lives but as each day progresses, I find it difficult to do so. But after our conversation this morning I see my expectations were a disastrous oversight.
Perhaps my reactions towards her are merely amicable, the way I would protect Mia. All the same, seeing her in the presence of Ricardo blindsided me and I handled it poorly. Anastasia is the most defiant, sarcastic, and brutally honest woman I've ever met, she contradicts everything I find appealing.
Yet. . . .
Ana
With the support of Taylor's presence and Mrs. Helen Bergner's chatter, I've been able to shove Christian's voice out of my mind for the last four hours. Under the canopy of the outdoor restaurant, we appreciate the light conversations around us. Lunch is complete so we take a moment to gaze out at the beauty of the bay as the ocean breezes whip our hair into a frenzied tousle. I have one more day to enjoy this once-in-a-lifetime experience, this experience that is Australia.
Helen hums mildly with a tiny smile and takes a glimpse my way. Her lips parted but no words materialized; she stares off and her eyes are looking past me over my shoulder. Curiously, I turn to catch what has caught her interest. Three women bursting with giggles supplemented with catwalk strides step into the restaurant. Two I recognize from last night, however the third I've seen somewhere before. As if she'd read my thoughts, her eyes found mine straight away. A spark of recognition looms between us and her path unexpectedly changes; the tall, leggy blonde breaks away from her party and she's heading directly for our table. Helen clears her throat, and she suddenly becomes fidgety and distracted. Chorus girl's legs trailed the length of her wedged heels vanishing under a pair of Bermuda shorts. Her remarkable shoulder-length golden hair moves in sync with the afternoon's gentle breeze, not a frizz in sight. Her face is flawless, and she's attired in designer labels from head to toe. She seems almost too perfect like the credentials of a model.
My awe didn't last too long as my brain connected the dots at that moment. "I've been hearing so much about you all morning," she starts talking directly to me overly excited, "You're the new Mrs. Christian Grey, I just had to meet you."
Right now, I want to throw up.
"Helen," she exclaims perky, "It's so good to see you," she leans over, air-kissing her on both cheeks.
"It's good seeing you too," she replies humdrum, "When did you get in?"
"Oh, I've been here almost a week".
"I didn't see you at the Opening Gala last night," Helen states blankly.
"I wasn't in the mood for it," she glances back at me, "Hello, I'm Mrs. Savannah Stanley," she stresses, "We're having dinner tonight, yes?"
"Yes," I answer, keeping my eyes fixed on her scrutinizing gaze.
"Well, until tonight. Nice seeing you Helen," she says, still staring at me.
And with the gracefulness of a cobra, she slithers to the other side of the outside restaurant without a backward glance.
Christian
This is all an act. . .
For most of the conversations, Ricardo and Savannah exhibit their affection by endlessly praising each other, constantly holding hands, or canoodling. The night has just begun, and already, I find this all nauseating. Also, being familiar with Anastasia's sardonic façade she makes no effort to hide what she's thinking. I'm tempted to laugh. Periodically, we would glance at each other, subliminally bantering similar sentiments. Their emphatic display of affection is too much like they're trying to convince us that they're happily married. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?
Whilst Anastasia and Ricardo share an enjoyable exchange about her profession and his native country, Savannah would interrupt them or burst into a forced fit of annoying giggles I hadn't known existed. My place at the table is simply to spectate, and right about now, Savannah is behaving bizarrely. Earlier, she introduced herself to Anastasia as if she were meeting her for the very first time, and my wife fittingly played along. I'm fully aware of their encounter this afternoon at the Opera House so I don't know what to make of this. Taylor stated that it was brief, but nothing with Savannah is done by happenstance. She dropped into my office last month solely to interrogate me about my personal life, no doubt she still communicates with my sister. Knowing my ex, she probably wanted to get a good look at my wife before dinner. During my thoughts, I hear my phone ring, one look at the screen and I stand in haste. I've been expecting this call all day. I quickly excuse myself not before I give Anastasia the reassurance that I will return soon.
. . . . .
Un-fucking-believable. . . . .
One phone call turned into two more and a three-way call with me, one of my directors, and Nick. By the time I'm done, I feel perturbed, disheveled, and exhausted. As I open the door to exit the private room, I spot Savannah casually lurking outside. I quickly departed and shut the door behind me; standing in the doorway would give her some imprudent notion of an invitation to join me. I'm already on edge and don't need this, I don't need to be cornered by Savannah.
"Christian" she beckons, grabbing me by my arm, "We need to talk."
"What do we need to talk about, Savannah? I said everything I needed when I last saw you, and now is not a good time" I yank my arm out of her grasp.
"That was something you never said to me, you always made time," she reproaches miserably.
"Because things were different then, everything has changed between us, as you know-"
She begins to sniffle, "Don't say that you don't understand."
The pain in her voice halts my steps and softens my heart, Savannah seldom cries.
Ana
I lent him an ear, giving him my fullest attention. I'm also wondering why he's telling me all these things. On one hand, he seems to be burdened by his dilemmas. On the other, there's cognizance that he knows the solutions to his problems, but he's afraid to do anything.
Quietly chewing and cutting our food, Ricardo and I unnervingly exchange smiles across the table. Together we're discerning the same thought. My husband and his wife are probably alone somewhere. I close my eyes expecting my imminent vision to disappear.
"It's difficult isn't it," my eyes pop open when I hear his voice. He takes a mouthful of wine.
"What is?" I prompt.
"To be in love, and to not have that love reciprocated to you," my eyes skirt his pained façade.
"How long have you two been married?" I ask earnestly.
"Only five months," he reaches for the wine bottle, "She was everywhere. One year I saw her in Paris. Then I traveled to the Maldives, and there she was again. The following year, England. But when she appeared in my country, I said this had to be fate, so I introduced myself. Unbeknownst to me, Christian had been courting her the year before we'd met. I heard rumors, yet I let her convince me that they were just friends and nothing more. I believed her because I wanted her. . . .And now I see more than ever that her heart belongs to him"
"Don't you trust her?" I query.
"Dios" he scoffs with a reserved smile, "I do, blindly. I've never trusted or loved a woman more . . . . . Tell me, Mrs. Grey, what am I to do? . . . . What am I to do?"
With burdened sadness, he lusts after his drink as if the answers lie within the contents of the glass. This shouldn't be happening. Looking past him to the direction I last saw Christian heading, I swiftly shoot up from my chair and toss my napkin on the table.
Christian
She grips my hand gently between hers, quietly sobbing and not giving me a chance to say anything.
"I realized that I made a terrible mistake, Christian. I'm sorry that it took me leaving you to realize what I have done. Forgive me, take me back, I'm willing to do anything to fix this."
"This is a joke, right? Take you back, Savannah, you're a married woman. What game are you playing here?" I scoff, pulling my hand away roughly.
"You're married too, Christian, but that shouldn't stop us from being with each other. We were always good together, you said so yourself, on many occasions."
"Yes, I did say that, and we were good together," I searched her eyes, emotionless. "I thought so, I convinced myself, and I believed it, but that was the past, and don't believe it anymore. Whatever you're doing, I want you to stop it, and stop wasting my time . ."
"No, Christian, I want you back, I want us back. That's why I'm here bearing my soul to you . . . . .I'm still in love with you, Christian"
"I don't believe you, what did you think? That you can put me on a shelf just in case you want me in the future, and I'll be waiting for you. I've moved on Savannah, I'm happy, and you shouldn't be doing this to your husband".
"What else am I supposed to do?"
"Stay faithful, Savannah, you belong with him now-"
"Stop saying that! I don't love him, I love you, and I always will. . . . don't deny us of a second chance, Christian. This can be it. I know you don't love her, not like you love me. . . . Think about it, we can leave them behind, escape our loveless marriages, and return to each other. You know we're good together, marriage or no marriage I still want you, and you want me."
I raise my hands defensively, urging her to keep her distance, "No Savannah, stop it-"
"No, wait! Don't push me away."
One minute we were standing close, the next she was squeezed against my front with her arms tightly wound around my neck and her face leaning against my shoulder. I'm tempted to remove her in one smooth forceful push, it would send her careening to the floor, instead I force myself to behave and be a gentleman. Mechanically, I place my hands against her back. Oddly, there's nothing developing from our connection. I haven't held her like this in so long and yet I can't remember how she feels. She lifts her face, stopping mere inches from mine. Hazel eyes are instantly replaced by blue, Anastasia's blue eyes. My shoulders stiffen and I begin to back away, she tightens her grip pressing her hips and mouth against mine.
Everything is wrong when I taste her. She's too lean, her chest isn't soft and voluptuous, her lean hips jab against my waist, and the absence of curves on her body is evident. That's when it hits me. She isn't my wife; she isn't Anastasia, the one I've surreptitiously desired for the last month.
Yanking her by her shoulders, I wrench myself away taking a few steps back. Absolute fury crashes over her face before she manages to calm herself and accept my rejection. Her eyes narrow as she straightens her back with stiff dignity.
"Go play your mind games with your husband," I spit, "Despite what you think, I'm satisfied with my decision. You made your choice and now you come back on bended knees to proclaim your unrequited passion. Save your pseudo despondency for your husband because I know that man adores you. He's the one I pity in all of this. You're not worthy of any man's love. . . I see that now."
"And your standards have diminished. God Christian, if you wanted to marry so desperately you could have done better than her," she scorns, "When you get tired of settling for mediocre, call me."
"Watch it! That's my wife, placing her in the same spectrum as you are unparalleled. She's more woman than you'll ever be," I say getting in her face, "I thought I knew you, Savannah, but it seems I've dodged something insidious and diabolical. This is killing you, isn't it? I'm with her and not you. What did you think was going to happen when you left me? You thought I'd be pining away for you, begging you to return. . . .I feel nothing for you so don't waste your time," I stepped back slowly, savoring the staggered look in her eyes.
. . . .
As I enter the semi-dimmed room, I spot Ricardo sitting alone with his hands clasped on the table.
"Ricardo," I say, making him look up. "Where's Anastasia?"
"I believe she went to the ladies' room, but that was a while ago."
"How long?"
"Ten. . . fifteen minutes" he drawls in his native accent, compromised by liquor.
.
.
.
I'm at my wit's end. All this time she went back to the suite, and she didn't have the decency to say anything. Frustratingly, I tapped the key card against the lock and tramped in the direction of her room, calling out her name. She's here, I know she is. The last thing the security footage picked up was tracking her movements from the lobby to the suite. From the images, I could tell that she was stony and disturbed, or maybe something transpired between herself and Ricardo.
I enter her room without an invitation, I'm too irate to ask for one anyway. She's facing the windows with her arms crossed, and upon my unwanted arrival, she shuts her eyes.
"Hell, I've been looking for you, Anastasia," I say bothered, coming to her side. "You told Ricardo that you were going to the bathroom, I've been looking for you all over the damn hotel; you could've had the decency to say that you were going back to the suite. I had the hotel staff scour the entire building; Taylor is behaving irrationally while you're up here having another silent episode."
Through my anger, I listen to her take deep breaths before she opens her eyes slowly. I wait for her to say something, but she keeps gazing, and her face is splashed with disappointment. By observing her demeanor, I was able to curb my angst and lower my voice.
"What's wrong with you?" more dreadful silence. God, I hate this, she refuses to speak. "Anastasia, I'm talking to you," I roar. Wiping my hands over my mouth, I exhaled to compose myself once more.
Anastasia, please talk to me. . . . She huffs, turning on her feet. I stay with her until she gets to the bed. The jeweled encrusted box my mother gave her sits close to the edge, she grabs it up, turns, and then shoves it in my hands.
"Here," she fumbles, "I'm giving this back."
"Like hell you are, that was a wedding gift from my mother, I specifically heard her say that she wanted you to have it".
"I think she may have chosen wrong. . . ."
"God, what are you going on about now?" I brogue, trying to make sense of her behavior.
"What's going on between you and Savannah?" she charges.
I'm bowled over by her admission, I did nothing wrong, and if she saw or heard everything, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Clearly, she doesn't have a clue what transpired between me and Savannah, how I defended her character, how I wished it was her in my arms instead of my former lover. I'm not going to stand here and listen to her berate me for nothing, not this time.
"Excuse me?" I'm unprepared, and it's the only thing I could say.
"You heard me, Christian Grey, I saw you with her. You're still with her, even though she hurt you?"
"You were spying on me. How dare you. . ."
"No, don't you dare turn this around on me, Ricardo and I are sharing a table awkwardly you two run off to some dark corner whispering in hushed tones about your disastrous marriages".
"Don't do that, you're putting words in my mouth. The woman was crying, she was upset, and most of all she's a friend of mine. . ."
I don't know why I lie, but I do, she isn't convinced though. She arches her eyebrow with a sarcastic frown on her face. At this point, I'm noticeably uncomfortable and stammering to her about this.
". . . What if she needed someone to talk to, so what if it's me, so what if I offer some words of comfort? You don't get to say what happens here," I utter defensively, "I've done nothing wrong to discredit whatever this is. I don't owe you an explanation about my past and furthermore, I owe you nothing. This conversation is over and you're not to bring it up again, ever. Pack your things, we're leaving."
Hoping that this is the end of the conversation, I retreat, unscathed.
"We're not leaving, Christian. You hear me," I can hear her quickened footsteps shadowing me. "I have one more day here and you're not going to ruin it just because you have unresolved feelings for your ex," she bites.
I go into my room, ripping open my closet to retrieve my things. I can feel her stinging gaze on my back.
"You're such a horrible liar. Savannah is your friend, oh please," she mocks with a satirical tone, "You are friends with a woman who flagrantly denied her intimacy with you to the entire world. She left you for a Latino hottie and worst yet, he's a Stanley."
I whirl around swiftly making her step back from the blast of ice seeping from my body, "What did you say?"
"You heard every word; you want her back, Christian?"
"Is that what you think?"
"It doesn't matter what I think. Savannah took one look at me in that hallway then she threw herself at you. . ."
"Wha-"
". . but that's not the problem. The problem is that you welcomed it. You held on to her as if she belonged to you, and yet you have the nerve to accuse me of flirting with Ricardo the other night," irate, she narrows her eyes, "This union is only good on paper, but at least I have the decency to honor and respect this marriage."
"You're not the only one, I do respect this marriage."
"Oh yeah," she challenges, "Then tell me, what else happened between you two."
"I thought you were there?" I counter.
"Don't avoid the question, Christian. Did anything else happen?" she repeats.
I purse my lips and then exhale, "It was just one kiss, I didn't want it, and I made that clear".
She shoots me an amused look with wide eyes and crossed arms.
"She kissed you . . . Where?" she shrugs nonchalantly, "On your cheek . . . your lips"?
I've been unable to keep my posture since this conversation started. I find myself shifting from one leg to the next.
"Lips," I confess in a low murmur.
"I see . . . Did you kiss her back?"
My hand's fist under pressure, "Not really"
"What does that mean?" she speaks in mock confusion throwing her arms up.
"Maybe. . . .I don't know. . . .It was a blur"
Heatedly, she turns away from me, heading back to her room, now I'm the one chasing her down the hallway. "Incredible, last night you behaved like an ass because I was talking to Ricardo at a formal gathering but tonight, you're able to put your hands all over his wife down a lonely corridor for god-knows-who to see."
"I pushed her away."
"Yeah, after you stuck your tongue in her mouth."
"That didn't happen. You have no rational reason to behave this way, Anastasia. That kiss meant nothing."
"Well, you must have a thing for kissing women you don't like," she stomps ahead, "I remembered you saying that to me once."
Without thinking, I grabbed her by the arm pulling her back to face me. Again, I'm tempted to kiss her, but instead, I wince internally as I'm reminded of what Savannah had done a while ago, I can't kiss my wife with these tainted lips.
"That was different."
"Sure," she says, trying to wriggle herself free, "Take your hands off of me."
"I rejected her."
"Really, and why did you do that? Why did you reject her, Christian?"
It's because I care about you, Anastasia, "Because I agreed I won't cheat on you."
"That makes sense! I'm surprised you were able to have your faculties together after such a kiss. With me, I understand that you felt nothing, it meant nothing. But of course, your former flame would be able to stimulate a more avid response, seeing that she knows the weak spaces in your mind."
She just cracked the final whip, and it made my mouth drop open. My hand falls away and she's able to escape my grasp. I had to gather my scattered thoughts to stalk her room once more. When I re-enter, she's putting on her shoes. Then she moves around like I'm not even there.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"I'm still hungry, I didn't complete my meal and we haven't had dessert yet. We're going back to the restaurant," she declares, pressing her palms against the surface of her cocktail dress, "Ricardo Stanley is married to your former ex-fiancée and he's the son of your father's rival. There's a reason for his dinner invitation and I doubt it has anything to do with the fact that Savannah followed you to plaster her mouth against yours."
I disregard her last statement, "What do you mean?"
"Ricardo appears to be despondent with his father's leadership," she applies gloss over her lips, "and not to mention he's been observing his wife's wandering eye. He's aware that she went to see you in Seattle last month," she pauses, looking at me through the mirror, "And just so you know, you're not the only fish she's trying to hook."
"How do you know he's at odds with his father? This could all be a trap, maybe he's using you to get to me."
"Like how his father used his relationship with Savannah to get to you," she reveals, "He told me all about it. . . .He told me a lot of things. Things I think you should figure out for yourself, and I'm guessing after tonight, you'll owe me, big time. . . . . This morning, you said this is all just business, I'm just keeping it professional."
Ana
This was a complete turnaround, and why shouldn't it be?
When we arrived, they had just completed their entrées and were about to order dessert. The air is thick and frosty between Ricardo and Savannah, but things couldn't be warmer on this side of the table between Christian and me. We delve back into our roles of delightful newlyweds without a hitch and within fifteen minutes Ricardo perks up engaging Christian in dialogue this time. Now and then, I would notice Savannah shooting me cold glances. Most of the hour passes and after a few minutes of quiet chatter between Christian and Ricardo; they both excuse themselves from the table.
Tired of her weak attempt at intimidation, I peer at her scorned face when I spoon the last serving of tiramisu into my mouth.
"I heard you got married two days ago. How odd that he would whisk away his new bride on a business trip instead of a honeymoon. Seems like you started off on the wrong foot, you're already third place in his life" she declares.
"And where do you fit in?" I say rhetorically, "In his life that is."
My eyes follow her as she calmly removes herself from her seat and then occupies the one next to me where Christian sat.
"Do you know who I am?"
My inner light flashes in defiance, " Mrs. Stanley I'm very aware of who you are . . . or were," her eyes flare, "My placement in my husband's life is of no consequence to you. Besides, you had your chance; I can see why he got tired of playing with you."
"Is that what he told you," Her left eyebrow arches. "It's the other way around, darling. I got tired of playing with him."
"Good for you, but it didn't look that way an hour ago."
"Hmm," she smirks wickedly.
"Look Savannah, you're a big girl. This moment, right here, right now. I know what this is about, and you know what this is about, and frankly, this is all juvenile for a grown woman. I don't have time for this, and Christian is a busy man, his work is very important to him. If you didn't understand that, then you obviously don't know him."
"I don't need a lecture from you about Christian Grey, I know him. In fact, I know if he truly loves a woman, he will put everything aside just to be with her, even business."
I don't react, "We have lots of time to revel in our marital bliss; as a matter of fact, we'll be traveling to somewhere a little more . . . secluded and romantic"
She frowns, "I'm not interested in what goes on between you two."
"And yet you're sitting next to me like I stole your favorite wind-up toy. This afternoon you were curious. You wanted to meet the woman that said yes," I test, egging her to divulge more.
"You're right; Christian has been single for months at a time, then all of a sudden he's married . . . to you."
"Keeping tabs on him I see. Shouldn't you be paying attention to your own husband?" I snub taking a slow sip of water.
"Call it what you like, but I'm trying to figure out what you're doing here . . . what you're doing with him," she gestures with repugnance, "It doesn't make sense, you have no class and you're a nobody."
"Says the woman who's trying to intimidate her former fiancé's new wife," I inch closer, "At this moment, what can be lower than a desperate woman trying to cause trouble between a woman and her husband? If you want him back, I'm not stopping you. But the real question is, will he have you. . . . and if you really know Christian, you'll know he's not into sloppy seconds," I slide gracefully out of my chair and attempt to stand, her hand clamps down on mine.
"Mark my words, this won't last. You two will be over in five months, six for the most."
I smile wide, "That's six more months of incredible sex all over his Penthouse, Savannah. Think about it," I winked before I pulled my arm away, "Oh and I forgot to mention, you've got great hair. My mentor says I should identify one thing I like about a person."
"Go to hell," she fumes, I grin walking away. And this time, I really go to the ladies' room.
Christian
"What do you think? Are you interested?" he asks earnestly.
"I'm not sure," I say deadpan, "I made a similar offer to your father years ago, and he flat-out refused."
"I know and I thought he was a fool. Earlier this year he signed over the property to me. I've been waiting for the right time to approach you; I hear you're looking to centralize your units."
"Hmm, good news travels fast," I retort, taking a swig of scotch.
"It isn't a secret, Grey, and it's a smart move. Most of your competitors are beginning to talk about a similar strategy. But you have the advantage; you'll have access to the east wing, the port, and the warehousing. Right now, the entire facility is vacant."
"I know, and nobody wants it," I grumble.
"Nobody but you"
I scoff, "The location is perfect, but your father won't agree to this."
"Leave my father out of this. This is between you and me, I'm offering you a chance where both of us can make and save some money."
My eyebrows pulled together with curiosity, "Why are you doing this?"
He inhales, "I'm the bastard son of Edison Stanley. . ."
"And I'm an orphan boy of a prostitute, Ricardo. One thing I've learned over the years is that revenge and business aren't a healthy combination. Don't do this because you're angry with your father and you want to get back at him."
"On the contrary, I'm doing this solely for myself. I've come to recognize that this industry isn't for the timid and faint-hearted. While my half-brothers Gregory and Alex are on the front lines, my father has led me only far enough to get a partial glimpse of the business. You should make a bid for the upcoming Rickson Waterfront Project."
"The whole world knows I already plan to; your father indicated that he's going to throw his glove in the ring the other night," I know I won't find anything but still, I scrutinize his demeanor, "I want to negotiate your asking price when the time comes. Have your people send the document to my Corporate Attorney, his name is Amos Gendry and he's the head of my Legal Department."
"You agree?" he inquires.
"I didn't say that" I downplay, "I'll contact you when I get back to Seattle."
"Very good," he concludes, jutting his hand to me.
We lock eyes and end our discussions with a firm handshake. I watch him walk away while I take my phone from my inner pocket.
If everything Ricardo has disclosed to me is true, from here on I must tread carefully. Edison Stanley appears to be doing what he can to make a dent in GEH. Before my father died, he did everything he could to recapture that property and so did I and I'm going to make damn sure it returns to us, even if I must start with part ownership.
I scrolled through my messages to find one from her.
-I'm back at the suite, told you it was good news. Just remember, you owe me - 11:32 pm
Yes, I do, Mrs. Grey, I owe you big time.