Chapter Twelve – Close Encounters of the Unwanted Kind
Mia
"So, how are things coming along?" I remark without looking up at his face.
"That project I was telling you about last week . . ."
"The waterfront project?" I say with forged interest.
"Yes," he straightens his posture, "It's coming up next week. Stanley has invited all the key players to dinner at his home. Will you go with me?"
"I'm not sure; I have a few things going on. Milan is in two weeks and the logistics are driving me crazy, but Mimi is doing a great job of holding everything together"
"Mimi sounds like a nice girl . . ."
"She is, she's too nice actually and you'll never meet her," I grin, "I'm not ready to give you up, or share"
"Touché," he raises his cup of coffee to me.
"You think my brother knows you're going to make a bid for the project"
"He will, soon," he scoffs.
"What about Anastasia, did you meet her yesterday?"
He takes another sip and gently places the cup on the table. "No, she hasn't contacted me but I'll get her, I have my ways"
"You think she's avoiding you?"
"Yes I do, and that's the quickest way to annoy me and she knows it"
"Maybe she's still in love with you," I suggest.
"Why would you say that?"
"It's something your sister mentioned once before, she said you were her first true love," I fabricate.
"My sister told you that?" he questions suspiciously.
"Yes," I say believable enough, "She told me Anastasia hasn't had someone since she moved here"
"That doesn't mean she's still in love with me, Mia," he counters reasonably.
"True, but why not have a normal relationship? Why do this . . . ersatz of a marriage with a man she doesn't even know. Unless it's something she's not investing her heart in. Maybe she hasn't gotten over you," I conclude looking down at my pastry.
"Why would she marry a man she doesn't know, how long have they known each other"
"This all happened overnight, I've never heard or met this woman until two months ago at my mother's house, and even then I had no indication that she and my brother were in a relationship. This whole thing is a farce to satisfy my mother's expectations if I'd known this was all I needed to do to get on her good side I would have faked a marriage myself"
"What are you talking about?"
"My brother and your precious Ana," I state, "have an arrangement of some kind, this marriage thing is all a farce, it's not real and I have the papers to prove it"
"Papers?"
"A detailed contract outlining their arrangement"
"Interesting," he rubs his chin.
"Yes, very," I smirk adding to the intrigue between us.
I take a glimpse at his reaction, I can see the cogs of hope and desperation beginning to turn in his mind. His eyes dip and a small smile peeks through his gorgeous lips. There's no doubt he still has expectations for himself and his ex. All I need to do is convince him that she wants him as well.
"You know, since she's been at the house I haven't seen her much. I don't think Christian sees her either. They don't talk, or have dinner together. It's a strange, convenient arrangement, but somehow he's convinced Mother that they're both busy. Last Sunday, I heard them fighting, so I don't think they're getting along"
"Then why would she do this?" he probes with interest.
"Like I said, it's for my mother, who knows. Maybe she's using him to advance herself, maybe she's after his money . . ."
"No, she's no social climber," he objects keenly.
I snicker rudely, "Why not, his worth quadrupled in the last three years. He's one of the richest men in the country, Ethan. No offense, but if your Anastasia is after wealth she won't be looking at you"
I slowly lean back into my chair staring at him straight-faced. His jaw tightens and his eyes narrow. After our fiery staring match, he smirks and then reaches for his cup.
"That may be so, but I'm worth more than his little sister, won't you say".
"Hmm, tit for tat I see," I blush.
"No, not necessarily, just playing along"
"A couple of days ago I attended an event where I met a few of her work colleagues. There's one in particular who's willing to get some dirt on her. Her name is Eileen or Ellen, I don't remember. Anyway, during our conversations, I was able to gather that she wasn't fond of Anastasia, I don't know why but that's not important. I made her a proposal, if she could do a few things for me I would put in a good word for her with Head Chef at the Sheraton. Plus I have a few people doing some reconnaissance work for me" I sneer.
He gives me a curious gaze, crosses his arms, and leans back.
"Why are you doing this?" he probes.
Overlooking his judgmental and opinionated gaze I reply, "Something is happening to my brother. We've had our differences but in spite of that, we were very close. If he was having a bad day he would call just to rant on the phone, I would know everything about him and he would know almost everything about me. That ended the minute she walked into his life . . . . He changed, and things around him began to change, but he doesn't see it . . . . This isn't Christian, he isn't thinking clearly"
"So you're going to be the one who makes him see the light again"
"That's right, nothing is stronger than family, especially this family and he knows that. I'll see to it that he gets rid of her, and the quicker my brother does that the quicker she'll be back with you . . . . and I'll have my brother under my thumb again".
Ana
This whole thing has been an eye-opening experience. What made me agree to this in the first place – interest, mischievousness or maybe it was something I saw in him.
". . . . You have one new message"
"I was hoping to speak to you but I guess this will have to do . . . . Mother called to say that she will be staying overnight at the health spa, Mia is somewhat occupied and I'm still at the office. I don't know how long I'll be here, and you'll probably be asleep by the time I get in" he sighs, and I can hear papers shuffling in the background, "We need to talk. No . . . I need to talk to you whenever you're available . . . . . Goodnight, Anastasia"
He must have called when I was in the shower . . . . . Does he want to talk? Talk about what?' My body shudders at the thought and I place my phone at the foot of his bed. It's the middle of the week and I'm thankful that I haven't seen much of Christian, Mia, or Ethan in the last three days. So far, I spent most of my time working at the restaurant or simply hanging around with Philippa. Grace and I had our own personal moments which I was grateful for.
I've discovered over these past nights that sleeping in a room with Christian Grey isn't all that's cracked up to be. One, he snores. Not heavy, rumbling snoring, it's more like a soft whimper. And two, he groans and whispers in his sleep. I can't interpret what he's saying most of the time, but I try to ignore it, which is hard. I enjoy and appreciate absolute silence in a room, which reminds me I think I'll get a pair of earplugs. Luckily, this week I've had the morning shift which gave me the opportunity to leave without waking him. Avoidance has been my greatest ally in the last seventy-two hours and I think I'll hold on to this luxury a little while longer. Mia will be leaving in two weeks for Milan and Christian is spending his time between Grace and work.
I should be ecstatic . . . . but I'm not.
Actually, I've been lying to myself this whole time. During our stay in Australia, I thought we were getting close. Not falling head over heels or anything, but I thought we could be friends, good friends. He kissed me three times, and on that third time, I willingly gave in and kissed him back. Maybe it was the champagne, maybe it was the wedding fever, maybe it was the fact that Ethan was watching. But it's safe to say now there's nothing between me and Christian Grey. It was all a fantasy in my head. Why the hell would a Seattle billionaire fall in love with a regular Apprentice Chef from San Diego?
My phone pings with an incoming message.
Elise – Girl's night out at Sapphire's. I'll pick you up at 8
Ana – In the middle of the week? I have work in the morning
Elise – That's never stopped you before. Do need to ask your husband's permission? LOL
Ana – Leave me alone so I can get ready
Elise - LOL
Getting out of the house isn't a bad idea, Christian's been working late since Monday, and he won't get home anytime soon. Regardless, I call his phone and he doesn't answer.
"Christian it's Ana, I got your message. . . . You're probably in a meeting or something. Anyway, Elise just invited me to tag along with them. We're going to Sapphire's. She's picking me up at eight . . . well, okay . . . bye"
. . . . .
How is this even possible? If I hadn't known any better, I'd say it was Saturday night evident by the queue entering the club.
"What the hell is this? Don't these people have work tomorrow?" Jillian complains, expressing my exact sentiments while gaping to the front of the line.
"I have work tomorrow but I'm standing here with you guys, my life is corrupt like everyone else's" I murmur sarcastically, "If I'd known it would take so long to get in I wouldn't have worn these shoes," I shift uncomfortably looking down at my feet.
"Maybe we should go somewhere else," Elise states. Jillian crosses her arms and stares blankly- at Elise while Sarrah rolls her eyes and throws her hands up.
"Go where, Elise," Rachel sulks, "We're already here, and look, the line's moving"
"What's that?" her new friend inquires.
"They want to go somewhere else," Rachel murmurs to her.
"We're not going somewhere else," I declare with palms facing everyone, "We're almost to the front. . . ."
"Mrs. Grey"
He's very tall, a juggernaut of a man, I stumble back into Elise when I look up at him. His presence is very intimidating, but he comes across as one of those men I hear Elise ramble about doing construction by day, bouncer by night, and possibly underground fight clubs in between.
"Mrs. Grey," he repeats, looking directly at my face.
It takes a while to realize he's talking to me. Being out with my friends provides that delay in memory that I'm married to Christian Grey. I nod my head reluctantly and brace myself for being honest with a daunting stranger.
"Please, would you and your group accompany me," shocked and distrustful my eyes turn to Elise who's wearing an oversized Cheshire cat smile.
We follow him to the front of the line and the man unhooks the rope barrier, Elise slightly nudges me forward. Seven of us follow him past the rest of the waiting patrons who grouse and glare in our direction. Without further utterances, we're being escorted to the VIP lounge, a place separate and apart from the main area of the club. He stops by a place that seems to be specifically reserved . . . for us. Dim lighting, purple and silvery accents, warm and inviting seating, seventy-two-inch screens at strategic points, and music set at a moderate volume. It screams everything exclusive and elite. My friends all squeal and shriek in their high-pitched girly voices and jog past me tip-toeing to their seats.
"I don't understand," I say to the man gesturing to the area.
"Mr. Grey reserved this area for your party," my face crumples as I take another look, "You'll have two attendants including myself. I'll be standing by the VIP entrance if you need me, I'm Colin by the way"
Before I could take his return his handshake, Elise placed her tiny hand in his, "It's nice to meet you too, Colin,"
His smile spreads across his face softening his features.
"I'm Elise, Ana and I good friends" she winks.
"Nice to meet you too, Elise," he looks back at me, "I'll send Angel over, you and your friends have a good night Mrs. Grey, and remember I'm standing at the entrance,"
I nod when he walks away.
"I hope this won't be the last time I'm seeing Colin" Elise confesses as she stares at him until he disappears. "And what is all this," her hands flare wide.
I sigh, "Christian . . . . He did this"
She throws her arms around me and squeals in my ear, making me cringe, "You're married to a billionaire, Ana. Get used to it," her eyebrows wriggle mischievously. "Come on let's order the expensive stuff".
"I'm not drinking," I reinforce as she drags me towards everyone else.
. . . . . . .
My designated driver is officially drunk; Elise is curled up on a couch four hours into the party. The rest of us are dancing out of our shoes close to the bar swamped by a crowd of people. This moment is comparable to midnight on New Year's Eve, glitter, mixed alcoholic drinks, and everyone has their hands up getting lost in the music, the only thing missing is Kate. I look back to Elise, she's still sleeping but it isn't right to leave her by herself. I decide to move away from the crowd and go back to my unconscious friend when I feel a light tug at my wrist. I almost crumble when I find myself staring into Ethan Kavanagh's face. I take a couple of steps back to maintain some distance.
"What are you doing here?" I say stoically.
"It's a nice club," he grins.
"No, what are you still doing in Seattle?"
"I told you I'll be here for a while," he reminds me.
"I don't want to talk to you, excuse me," I protest, about to move past him.
"Ana," he catches my hand, this time it's a bit forceful.
"Stop grabbing my hand," I pull.
"Well don't make a scene, I want to talk"
"You're not listening, I just told you I don't want to talk"
"Ana . . ."
"No, Ethan," I struggle, tears pricking my eyes.
Unexpectedly, I'm jolted out of my skin when Colin appears between us collaring Ethan by the scruff of his neck. My eyes are wide and my breathing has elevated, slowly I back off to the seating area so I can leave him in the capable, massive hands of the gigantic bouncer. I figure this is my cue to exit but Elise is out and I don't want to drag her to the parking lot. In the corner of my eyes, I observe Colin taking Ethan to the side when I hurry to get my phone.
"I'm sorry," I say before he can answer, "Elise is drunk and she's my ride home and I don't. . ."
"It's alright, Mrs. Grey. I'm parked outside, "I can hear him smiling.
"Oh," I smile confused, "Thank you, Taylor"
. . . . . . . .
The next hour is spent in a convoy with Taylor and me following my friends to their respective homes. Elise, on the other hand, has to be physically taken to her apartment.
It's minutes to three when Taylor and I walk through the doors of the mansion. The lights are dim in the living room and kitchen but there's no evidence of anyone around until I hear him thanking Taylor from across the room. Taylor says goodnight and takes his leave, disappearing out of sight. He slowly strolls out of the kitchen towards me.
"Did you enjoy yourself?" he expressed with genuine interest.
"Yes, I did . . . everyone did. They were really blown away and they said thank you . . . . That was really nice, what you did"
"You're welcome; it's the least I can do"
"Was this an attempt at an apology?"
He pauses, staring me dead in my eyes, "Maybe"
"You know, you can't treat me awful today and makeup with gifts or bribes tomorrow."
"We'll see," he shrugs.
He holds my gaze as if he's expecting me to say something else. My eyes quickly shift away to the bottle and accompanying glass positioned on the counter at the far end of the room. I nod, and then look back at him.
"Couldn't sleep?" I say, curious.
"No, I have some work to finish"
I nod a second time then purse my lips, "Well don't work too late, you need your rest . . . . Goodnight"
"Goodnight, Anastasia"
With each step I take from him I feel numb and worrisome, I wanted to tell him that I know, and I wanted to know why.
. . . . . . . .
Three hours of sleep and skipping breakfast results in me having a huge smoked steakhouse burger with fries at a diner close by. The bank is going to contact me by tomorrow by then I shall know the fate of my dream . . . . .
"I really do miss that look on your face when you're deep in thought," he mocks, pulling out the chair on the opposite side to sit down.
"Are you stalking me?" I say flatly after drawing the last mouthful of soda in my mouth.
"I was about to grab some lunch when I saw those beautiful blue eyes"
"How's that arm?" I say pointedly, "You seemed to be in pain when Colin had your hand pressed against your back this morning"
"And I would do it again if it meant seeing you again, gorgeous"
I roll my eyes, "Leave me alone, we have nothing to talk about"
"I gave you two days, Ana, two days, and since you didn't take my offer to simply talk, you'll be seeing a lot of me sooner than you think"
"You should know better, I don't cower to threats but it appears that you have no problem being somewhere you're not wanted"
"I'm here to fix that . . ."
"It's too late, Ethan . . . God, why are you doing this? You hurt me, remember? I owe you nothing, and now you're hanging around making me uncomfortable"
"I apologize if I'm making you uncomfortable, that wasn't my intention".
"Then what is your intention, Ethan, because I'm married, why. . . ."
"Are you sure about that?" he jeers, "About you being married?"
"What are you talking about?" I say straight-faced.
"I know about this arrangement you have with him," Shit, Mia.
"I don't know what you're talking about; I'm married to Christian Grey. You hear me, Ethan. I'm his wife, and he's my husband" I enunciate each word strongly. "Whatever unfinished business you think you have with me, take it up with someone else"
"God, I love that fire in your voice, that's what I love about you"
"You don't love me, Ethan," I spit in a whisper.
"I do"
"I don't believe you . . Read my lips. I. Don't. Believe. You"
"Peach cobbler, Ana," Pedro the waiter interjects magically appearing next to the table.
"No, thank you. Not today," I force a smile.
"Anything for your guest?"
"Just the check and he's not my guest, actually he was just leaving"
"I'm her fiancé," Ethan teases, relating his lie to the befuddled waiter.
"Check, Pedro"
"Right, that'll be . . . thirty-two dollars"
I fish thirty-five dollars from my purse and slap it onto the table. Quickly I make a dash to the sidewalk to get away.
"Why are you always running," he chuckles walking behind me.
"Because I don't want to see you, because we're not friends, because I hate you"
"Really," he grabs my arm, tugging me hard into his chest, "I don't think you hate me, Ana. Yes, I hurt you and I was wrong but you can't deny that I loved you and you loved me . . . . I still love you"
I can see passersby glancing at us, some are even blushing at the display of our misinterpreted intimacy in the streets.
"Let me go, people are watching us," I mumble crossly struggling from him.
"Let them watch . . . You still love me, don't you"
"No, Ethan you're nuts. Don't believe for one second you're floating across my mind or you have anything to do with my fantasies because you don't. Now let me go," I yank myself away leaving him behind.
"See you later," he calls after me.
. . . . . . . .
The rest of the day goes by uneventfully until I reach home. It's almost seven o'clock and Christian is pacing the bedroom.
"Good evening," I say, quickly glancing over to the entrance of the room closet.
"Good evening," he replies monotonously.
I carry on and head straight for the adjoining room. He follows me inside stopping close to me, too close.
"We need to talk," he declares.
"About what"
"About this"
He thrusts his phone to my face and there's a picture of Ethan and me from today. Our faces are inches apart and to anyone, this can be construed as something else.
"That's not what it looks like," I shake my head.
"Oh, then tell me. What is it? Because it looks like he has his hands on my wife on the sidewalk"
"Please, don't pull that possessive husband bullshit with me, what about not inferring in each other's lives," I say notably.
"This is different I wasn't aware that you were planning on seeing him again and you were out in public"
"Nothing happened, he ran into me. That's all"
I stalk out of the room and he follows me. "That's all? Are you sure? Today I found out Taylor's keeping secrets for you. You were supposed to meet him on Tuesday . . . . So did you?"
"Did I what?" I say rhetorically.
"Did you meet him on Tuesday?"
"No, I didn't, I never agreed to go meet him"
"Yet you met with him today?"
"Why are asking me this when you've already drawn your own conclusions"
"I just want to know where we stand"
"Where do we stand?" I gasped, "What are you doing? Are you listening to yourself, Sunday you were very clear. To you, I'm Anastasia Steele, your standee but I'm your wife on a piece of paper. It's always convenient for you to throw the stupid contract in my face anytime it suits you but I must sit by and allow anything to happen here. I can't react, neither question it".
"You don't understand . . . ."
"Are there more pictures," I cut him off rudely, "there should be one with him forcefully grabbing me by my hand," his eyes narrow, "and it's strange that you didn't get the one with me pulling away. But I don't expect you to believe me. It is what it is"
"No, it isn't, why are you keeping things from me? I don't appreciate you keeping things from me, Anastasia. An omission of information limits any decisions to be made about any situation"
"So if you were me, would you have anything to do with you since Saturday night? Would you be cordial or would you avoid you if possible? Tell me, Christian, the way you've been speaking to me since the wedding would you have anything to do yourself? Honestly"
The thunder in his eyes simmers then fizzles out. His lips form a thin line and his focus begins to move away from my face.
"Exactly," I say, understanding whatever is going through his mind, "We're done here"
Christian
That wasn't necessary, it really wasn't. But for some reason, I wanted her mad, flustered, and provoked to the point where she was screaming at me. In some sick, twisted way I enjoy seeing her like that, so raw. Why, because in those moments that's when she's real and everything she says is absolute. Getting her angry is always the quickest way to get her attention.
I enter the family room to find Mia and Mother smiling and conversing quietly. Their heads pop up but Mia's grin instantly changes to a scowl.
"You're just in time, Christian. Mia and I were discussing her upcoming show in Milan, and, she offered to take me to opening night," I disapprove but I don't show it, "The last time I went there was. . six years ago".
"Yes, Mother. I remember it was just us girls," Mia states conspicuously turning her gaze to me. "I can't wait. Shopping, cafes, you can join me backstage and finally watch me at an international event"
"Sounds wonderful, dear," Mother croons.
"Yes, sounds wonderful," I cross my arms feigning a smile, "and when are you two planning to leave?"
"I was thinking in a few days," Mia turns to Mother with hopeful eyes, "Probably Sunday?"
My arms drop to my sides and I protest, "Sunday? I thought you weren't scheduled to leave for another week"
"You're right, but if Mother is going with me I want to make sure she's comfortable. Besides, I don't get to spend enough time with her; I was gone for the last two years while you and Elliot had her all to yourself. I think it's my turn to be with her"
"She's not a toy to be passed around, Mia"
Mother's eyes widen, "Why would you say something like that, Christian? I love all of you unequivocally and equally. I show no favoritism or preference to any one of you. If your sister wants me to travel with her I'll do so once I'm fit . . . . . I wish one day you two can stop fighting, stop bickering . . . . . please, for my sake," she slides out of the chair getting ready to leave. Mia stands to lead her out but Mother refuses her advances, "No, I'll leave on my own, I can manage. I want you two to talk, I want you two to resolve your differences. Especially you, Mia"
The room remains quiet until she exits and her footsteps disappear outside the closed door.
"Is this necessary? Why are you taking her to Milan when I just got here, couldn't you wait another week?"
"Because I wanted to take her before things get crazy. I'm not trying to take her away from you, it's only two weeks"
"I just find the timing a bit inappropriate, Mia. . . . ."
"It's only two weeks," she repeats then rolls her eyes.
I try my best not to read much into this, but how can I, it's Mia.
"Mother's right," she says softly, "We fight too much, and it's mostly my fault. I shouldn't have insinuated that you would hurt her at the hospital, I know you won't. I guess I was angry or tired, I don't know . . . . But I'm sorry . . . okay"
"Okay," I voice sincerely, but wary.
"You're my brother and I love you . . . . always remember that".
"Okay," I repeat, still suspicious.
"Anyway I have to go, Ethan is waiting for me in the foyer we're attending. . . . ."
"Ethan Kavanagh is in this house," I say alarmed.
"Yes," she shrugs innocently, "Why?"
Ana
Standing alone and leaning against the kitchen island, I took a cool twenty minutes to eat a PB&J sandwich. Lately, I've repressed my thoughts of Christian's behavior and I don't think I can take it anymore. Despite my erroneous feelings for a man who clearly cannot stand me, I think I need to talk to him. After taking a mouthful of juice I notice someone standing at the kitchen entrance. The cold glass escapes my fingers and shatters close to my feet. A mixture of orange juice and glass shards hits the side of my legs.
Quickly I crouch down to pick up the larger fragments strewn across the floor. My eyes flick to the side when I hear his footsteps jog towards me. Not paying attention to the task at hand I blindly reach for a piece of glass. I pull back hissing through my teeth then I notice my blood slowly seeping through a slit lined diagonally across my palm. He begins to curse under his breath and gruffly pulls me up by my arms. Crudely he tugs me to the kitchen sink and turns the tap way up. Ignoring the fact that Ethan Kavanagh is standing next to me and roughly holding my hand under the powerful blast my eyes remain fixed on the combination of blood and water circling the drain.
"You're so fucking clumsy you know that. Look what you did to yourself"
This was it, this is the Ethan I was accustomed to. The man who would overpower me mentally with his harsh words and physically with his intimidating presence. I feel no pain from the mild injury but his hand painfully clenches my wrist.
"Let me go, Ethan. I can take care of myself"
"I'm not sure about that," he snickers. "Your loving husband isn't here to attend to you, now is he?"
"What are you doing here?" I try to take back my hand, "Why are you here?"
"I needed to see you"
"Wha-"
"I knew she wouldn't tell you. I came to your place a few months ago, you weren't there, I saw Kate. She told me to leave and never come back, but I could never keep away from you," his hand tightens around my wrist.
"Ethan you're hurting me . . ."
"Then hear me out . . ."
"Leave me alone, I'm sick and tired of this"
"Lower your voice," he warns.
"No, are you using Christian's sister to get to me?"
His lips kick up to the side, "That's not all I'm using her for," he whispers close to my face.
"Ugh, you're disgusting. You need to leave"
"C'mon, Ana, I already said I'm sorry, what is it going to take for you to believe me?"
"Absolutely nothing, I see you for what you are and I wish I'd known sooner, I was so stupid, I thought you loved me because you wanted me"
"I did want you, I still want you," he says firmly.
"No, you wanted to fuck me, take my virginity like it was some prized possession you've had your eye on for years, you said so yourself. You're a thief, a bully, and a chronic liar and on top of that, you sound crazy. No means no, Ethan, you probably didn't get it then but I'm sure as hell you'll get it now. I. Don't. Want. You. I'm happy with my life and it's the happiest I've ever been. I was young, I was naïve and I had a crush on my best friend's brother and what I felt back then took precedence over reality and common sense"
"You fucking bitch," he grabs me by the jaw with one hand.
Fear is the last thing on my mind as I smile contemptuously through his tightened hold. Forgetting my bloodied throbbing palm I press it against his face, smothering his nose to push him away. In a flash, he's yanked away from me, and Christian quickly comes between us. Before he has time to react Christian's fist lands squarely against his jaw a couple of times throwing him off and lands on the marble floor.
"Don't get up," Christian warns towering over him, "Don't you ever touch her again, don't come near my wife".
It's funny how Ethan's intimidator tactics are instantly eclipsed by Christian's presence. He has absolutely nothing to say and he does what he's told. Delight washes over me and I'm tempted to grin. A mixture of blood and water is dripping from my limp hand when Christian scans the pieces of glass strewn across the floor.
"Did he hurt you, did he do this?" he asks getting ready to pummel him again.
"I'm tempted to yes but no, he didn't do this. It was my fault, I cut myself . . . . . It's nothing; the bleeding has slowed down. . ." I try to explain away.
"Stop it, this isn't nothing, you're still bleeding," he grabs a clean towel and presses it firmly into my hand with his.
Taking his other hand, he touches the small of my back gently guiding me out of the kitchen. His warmth sends a shot of electricity up my spine and the feeling of his spread fingers goes past the thin fabric of my tank top. At this moment I can't concentrate on my bleeding hand or the slight sting coming from it. All I can feel is him. His hand on me, my shoulder pressed against him, or if I turn myself at the right time my nose might land on the crook of his neck.
"You're welcome," Ethan shouts from behind, and we don't look back.
. . . . . . .
Before I can open my eyes, I feel the inside of my palm throb under the bandage. It jerks my fingers to stretch, slowly chasing the discomfort away. Deadened silence is a tell-tale sign of the early hours of the next day, outside is still dark though. In the quietness of the room, the sound of his harried breathing catches my ear. I've learned from the first night to sleep with my back turned to him. However, it's been a short time since I've grown accustomed to this routine. In the middle of the night, he would become uneasy, moaning, and whispering as if he were pleading to himself. The night before I heard him murmur 'Don't Leave' repetitively. Whenever he got out of bed, I would listen to his movements, not giving any indication that I was awake, I would sense him staring at my back, and my measured breathing as I lay stretched along the chaise.
Tonight, however, he's seemingly gripped in his nightmare. Not knowing what else to do I get up and go to the other side of his bed. He's gathered the blankets to himself and he's rolled to the other side. This part of the room feels chilly with the cool air positioned directly on him, yet I can see small beads of sweat on his forehead. His face is contorted in anguish and sadness, something I would never have envisioned on my own and I can't help but have pity for him. It's almost heart-wrenching to see him this way, almost. His breathing suddenly changes drastically as if he's struggling for air.
"Christian?" I say uncertainly.
I want to wake him but my feet remain planted to the ground. I'm unclear about what I should do, it might be better for him to go through this episode instead of me waking him and having a violent reaction. He turns his head again beseeching the person in his dreams to wait this time but to no avail. His breaths quicken as if he's desperately trying to stop whatever is going on in his mind. His arm extends flopping against the pillow nearest to me.
I take a deep breath, "Uh, Christian," I carefully reach out to touch his fingers.
He mumbles I could have sworn he replied and said my name but it sounded like Ana. It can't be, he's trapped in deep sleep. My touch is feather light skimming along his hand, it's enough to get a mild reaction from his fingertips and it seems as if he's settling down. I'm about to move away when it starts again, and without thinking I climb onto the bed. As soon as my fingers touch his arm he grabs me, the action is so fast and startling that I don't have time to react. Only a small shriek escapes me as he painlessly pulls me into him. His strong arms imprison me and his hold is strong almost suffocating. I can feel him shivering. His skin is cold and moist and the beating of his heart is loud.
"Don't leave" he mumbles into my hair and his hands tighten a bit more.
I'm tempted to pound my fists on his body, yet I don't. I can't help feeling chills and tension with his bare chest pressed against my taut nipples. I know he isn't doing this on purpose, he's caught in the whirlwind of another nightmare and he's simply seeking comfort . . . . And that's my role for the moment, to guard him against his nightmares. Moments later, his breathing eases steadily, his arms relax and the rhythm of his heartbeat begins to reduce.
"Don't leave," he whispers again. This time there's no pain, just contentment.
For now, we stay like this, I let him hold me. It would be hypocritical of me to believe that he's the only one getting something out of this. Even though he's not aware of what's going on I can't deny that a part of me wants this from him. I've never been held by a man this intimately and it's sad that my first time is with my sleeping husband who despises me.
Without reservations I let myself settle into his arms and nuzzle closer to his body, my eyes shut and I listen and smile at the light snore coming from his throat.
Christian
At first, I thought it was the blanket crumpled below my chin. When that assumption fell away, I realized I was holding someone in my arms, not just any someone, but a woman, not just any woman, but my wife, Anastasia. Her face is facing the other way but I know it's her, her distinct silky hair covers her face in a tangled mess. I can feel my heart begin to race, she feels so perfect against my body that this can't be wrong. My eyes trail along the surface of her inviting neck, I'm tempted to press my mouth against her, so much that I wet my lips instinctively. Along with the warmth of her body, her natural fragrance sends my own senses reeling. I notice the roundness of her breasts in her pajama top, they rise and fall to the pace of her shallow breathing. I continue to stare down at the rest of her body, her stomach, her hips, her legs. God, she's so beautiful. All the while my loins begin to stir more than they should apart from my morning arousal. I begin to move away when my slight movements prompt her awake, and without an ounce of emotion, she turns to me.
"You were having a nightmare," she begins softly, palming the sleepiness on her face, "I didn't know what to do. You pulled me into bed and I couldn't get away. I would have. . . ."
"It's okay," I insist, a bit embarrassed.
Bewildered by what she just heard she sits upright in bed and turns to me, scrunching her face. "Are you sure?"
"Yes . . . . Don't worry about it," I flex my lifeless arm, the one she spent the night sleeping on.
It's there in her eyes, the questions. Last night must have been different because she's never woken up during the night and usually I will. We hold gazes long enough to have a non-verbal conversation. She wants to talk and I tell her no. She looks away for a brief moment and she says it again, I glance at her banded hand resting on her lap.
"You can't go to work like that; you need your hands for your profession"
"It's alright; there are a lot of things I can do in the meantime, practical stuff"
"You can stay here if you'd like. . . ."
"No thanks, I don't need any more surprises popping up"
"They're not here, they both left last night. I spoke to her when you fell asleep last night, I told her to keep him away from you or they'll be hell to pay"
"Like he's going to listen to Mia or you, he won't even listen to Kate"
"He better listen if he knows what's good for him".
She laughs softly, "Don't worry about me, I can handle him"
"Yes I'm sure about that," I concur with raised eyebrows.
Parts of her stomach and hips are exposed and my eyes carelessly flit along the uncovered area of skin. A sizable, discolored patch peeps from the top of her pants, and before I can say anything I grab her by her forearm.
"What's that?" I demanded, staring at her hip.
She doesn't answer but she tries to slink her hand away. In a flash, I sit up, wrap my other around her waist, and easily pull her onto the bed, backing her body into my chest.
"I asked you a question?" I say against her ear. Even though I'm serious about this I'm thrilled that she's wearing so little and she's this close to me, I can feel my dick beginning to stir from my sudden actions. I keep my hands still being mindful not to let them roam across her body.
"It's nothing," she breathes in a whisper.
"I hate when you say that, and you're lying. Should I look for myself?"
"No, you won't dare," she begins to struggle.
"If I have to I will, but I don't want to violate you . . . . . Stop fighting me, I won't hurt you," my lips are dangerously close to her neck.
She eventually calms and she remains motionless, in return I let her go. Slowly I watch her pull the waistband of her pajama pants, the mark goes past her hip. When I look at her face she's staring into nothingness.
"Where did you get this?" I say.
"It was an accident," she hesitates.
"You didn't answer me, Anastasia. Where did you get this?" I repeat, trying to maintain my cool.
"The night of the wedding upstairs in the bridal suite, Ethan came in the room and I tried to get away, but instead I bumped into him and fell to the ground . . . he landed on top of me"
"What?"
"But I only saw it the day after but I'm okay now. I swear"
"How many times have you seen him after that?"
She purses her lips and takes a deep breath, "I saw him at the club, well you know about yesterday that was lunch, then last night in the kitchen"
"Why you couldn't say anything before, and why do I get the feeling you're trying to protect him".
"My life, my problems, remember, and besides, I don't want you to be concerned over nothing. . ."
"There you go using that word again. I will decide what I should and should not worry about, Anastasia. God, you're with me every day and you expect me not to be concerned about you"
"You're so confusing, you said . . . ."
"I know what I said"
"Are you sure about that?" she charges in mocked amusement, "What is wrong with you? You know, if this was a normal relationship I would think that you're mentally unstable. You treat me cruelly today and tomorrow you're wondering why I behave the way I do. You draw a line between us and yet you expect me to tell you things. You kissed me . . . and it was incredible," she admits, almost to the point of frustration or shouting, "then the next day you're unpleasant and stony. So what should I do Christian, tell me. What should I do?"
She crosses her arms under her chest and looks over to the other side of the room.
"You're right. If I were you I would keep away from me too . . . . I don't know how many times I've apologized to you and frankly, it's becoming a dirty habit. You don't deserve that . . . . . Why are you afraid of him?" I ask unexpectedly.
"Afraid of who?"
"Your ex"
"I'm not afraid of Ethan," her voice cracks mildly.
"I don't believe you; I know what that kind of fear looks like. You're a fighter. At the wedding, you couldn't look at him and you were so eager to get away. You looked like you were cowering, but when I grabbed you just now you were struggling with everything you had, clearly, you're not afraid of me. Yet when he was holding your face, you couldn't leave. You're afraid of him"
"He intimidates me sometimes" she pauses.
"Has he ever hurt you?"
"No"
"You're lying again"
"Maybe"
"Maybe?"
"I say that because I wasn't sure or I didn't know the difference, I loved him blindly. I didn't think he was hurting me, I thought he loved me. I know that now, I thought he was so in love with me that I made him that way. He always said I did things to drive him crazy. I told myself maybe he loved me too much to be so overprotective. He told me no one could ever put up with me or love me as much as he does, and I believed him"
She fell in love with a possessive jerk, that's understandable but what I don't understand is why he doesn't get that she doesn't want him anymore.
"What do you dream about, Christian Grey"
My eyes narrow at the sudden detour.
"If you can avoid things so can I," she challenges.
I sigh, "Can you miss work today?"
"No, I can't"
"I can make you if I wanted to, it would be very easy"
"Kidnapping isn't easy," she bites back her smile.
"It is for me"
"I'll keep that in mind"
"I want to show you something, it's important. It's important to me . . . I'll come to get you after work"
"Okay"
A short burst of silence follows marking the end of that conversation.
"Earlier you said kissing me was incredible," her cheeks flame, "You want to talk about that?"
"Can't, I have to get ready for work," she scoots off the bed quickly and sprints into the bathroom.