Chapter Fourteen – Rocked by thunder

Christian

Casting my gaze to the blurry night lights of the city on the other side of the wet ceiling-to-floor glass, I hear her approaching me. She's very light on her feet, nevertheless, I can tell when she's just entered a room without looking, it's her presence, her aura, I can't put it into many words, but I know when she's close to me. The day has pretty much ended and I'm thankful I didn't go through with it. I observe her full reflection in the glass when she comes to my side to take in the view; a small duffel bag is draped over her shoulder.

"Do you have everything you need?"

"Yes"

"Let me carry that for you" I request, reaching out for the strap. Before she surrenders the bag, she hesitates.

"Are we going back to the house now?" . . . . . Regretfully, I look into her eyes.

*Lightening . . . silence . . . a low long rumble of thunder*

There's a combination of disappointment and curiosity in her voice and it slams against my chest. I have to endure it, regardless I'm not ready to tell her, I thought I was. I thought I was brave enough to share this part of myself with her . . . . I mean, I want to.

"Yes, it's late" I circumvent.

"Didn't you want to show me something? You said it was important" she probes.

"It can wait, sorry I lost track of time" I lie.

She doesn't believe me. I can tell, it's that obvious but what else can I do?

.

The drive home was stretched, noiseless, and unsettling. A few days ago, displeasing Anastasia was the least of my concerns, but now I feel like I've let her down. As a matter of fact, it's more like I wasted our time, or did I? At least I got her to communicate her true feelings and now I know.

It's minutes to eleven, my back is against the headboard as I'm bombarded by a flood of images of Anastasia's face and her voice echoing through my head while she sleeps on the chaise with her back turned to me. The room is dark but there's enough light seeping from the outside to observe the sheets curved along her waist to her legs. Her hair is braided, and tossed over her shoulder, and can hardly hear her breathing. So much has happened in a short space of time, someone I regretted from our first meeting is slowly becoming everything to me. I close my eyes and rest my head against the wall, memories since our initial encounter flood my mind in this quiet space.

.

For a microsecond, my brain falters when I see her brilliant blue eyes, her lips, her face. But I'm not here to pick up a date for tonight . . . I'm here to resolve this matter with Anastasia Steele.

.

"Mrs. Benny," she says loud enough for me to look up "aren't you on the 6th floor?"

The memory makes me smile; I've just recognized that that was the first time she tried to irritate me.

.

"Hello, I'm Anastasia" she greets, still holding out her hand, "It's okay. Kate and I have a rule; we always make our guests feel welcome in our home".

.

"You're creepy you know that" Her eyes narrow.

"Creepy! Well, that's a first, I can believe arrogant, heartless, domineering, even a dick but creepy. C'mon, you could do better than that"

"I don't hate you, Christian."

.

"Do me a favour?" she churns stepping closer to me, "No, do us all a favour whenever you decide to go on a drinking binge, do it by yourself. I've only known you for one day, and so far, you haven't proven me wrong, but I dare you to, Christian Grey . . . and the next time you want to do something to wreck your life don't take us down with you".

.

I chuckle internally, "Look at you! You're dressed in your uniform and that silly hat . . . ."

.

"Don't read anything into this".

"What?" she gasps as if she knows what's about to happen.

With flaming desire, I claim her in my arms and seal my mouth over defiant lips. She's delicious and intoxicating, it's overpowering. My tongue enters her mouth and she hums quietly and low. I can feel her letting go, accepting this. She has wanted this as much as I do; I'm tempted to slip my hand below the hem of her top just to touch the bare skin on her back. A flood of warmth begins to emanate through her body. I can feel it, I can taste it.

Compounded by her fingernails gripping me and the flurry of clicks and shutters of cameras, the present backdrop drags me away from euphoria, so I stop.

.

As I'm about to move the doors close shut, she turns around and we lock gazes. A wave of dread washes over her face and my heart sinks, Anastasia is on the train without me. Frantically, she comes to the door looking overhead to find a way out. She's panicking with her hands pressed against the glass. I run to the door as the train starts to move.

"Get off at Circular Quay"

.

"I care about you too, Christian".

And the last recall does it for me . . . she doesn't hate me, but she cares . . . . Period.

She moves, pulling the covers up to her neck, I smile at the way she's curled inward between the blankets and I almost envy her state of comfort. Whilst the rain is her solace, it's a trigger for a haunting memory for me.

Despite all the fond memories of her that are floating around my head it's difficult to relax and sleep. Eventually, I leave her alone in the room and make my way downstairs in the darkness to obtain a bit of relief.

Ana

"Not that one" She scrunches her face in disapproval.

"What are we going for here, Kate?" I complain, throwing my lace back halter on the bed.

"Cute, we want cute. Before the night is over, he'll be on his knees professing his love for you"

"I don't think an outfit will do that."

"No, but the right outfit will"

"I'm not you, I can't pull this off. What's the big deal anyway? I love him, he doesn't love me. I'm not the first person it's happened to, I'll survive-"

"I'm not listening to that negative attitude" she singsongs, "And hopefully you'll get more than just 'I love you' tonight."

"Who said I was asking for more?"

"You don't need to. When was the last time you had sex?"

My mouth falls open and I turn to walk away, "We're not talking about this,"

"See! Tonight is the night," she shouts after me.

I roll my eyes grumbling below my breath and return to the closet room. Kate has officially turned this thing between Christian and me into her own personal project. And regretfully, she's not going to stop until she gets her favored result.

Christian

"You could at least look like an approachable human being" Elliot murmured as we walked down the corridor a few paces behind Anastasia and Kate.

I don't acknowledge him because my gaze is stuck on Anastasia, I don't even want to be here, but I am. Why? Because she's here and that's good enough for me. I didn't see her this morning and most of her afternoon was spent with Kate. Either I don't exist anymore or she's avoiding me.

The door to the studio apartment swings open, and a burst of greetings and cheers come through when the guests inside notice us, primarily Kate. The music is a bit loud for the space, but it's acceptable. Kate drags us all around the room and introduces us to her charismatic friends. Actors, dancers, playwrights they're all the same. They all exert an enthuse energy that seems to draw them together from different directions. From a distance you can spot the choice capitalists lurking in a corner, not taking a day from their work sipping champagne and nodding to needless conversations about the world . . . I guess that's where I fit in. I, and more so Elliot, am swiftly immersed in a conversation with this group. Then again, I'm not a willing participant as my eyes shadow her every move, every laugh, every hand gesture.

Tonight is going to harder than I thought, I'm a terrible liar. I love her deeply, but I can't bring myself to say it to her or to myself, instead, I writhe in silence.

Ana

Deliberately, I take another mouthful of punch and let it sit on my tongue before I swallow. The combination of juices is very potent, and it makes my taste buds water excessively and burst to life.

I must have glanced at Christian more than I should, and every time he'd be looking at me. Odd enough, I'm apprehensive. Maybe it's the fact that Kate has planted ideas in my head about Christian. Maybe it's the fact that I want to let him know how I feel and I'm too scared to do it. Maybe he'll reject me, maybe that's not true . . . . Maybe my conscious should shut up and let me enjoy myself, stop thinking about him.

A mild wash of drowsiness moves over me, and I'm tempted to yawn when someone bumps my shoulder.

"So you're the elusive Ana"

I turn around to a tall, dark man holding a tumbler close to his lips.

"Yes, I'm Ana and you are?"

"Brent . . Wallace, I work on the production team".

"Nice to meet you, Brent . . . Wallace"

He chuckles, "Kate talks about you every single day, Ana this, and Ana that."

"If you come to my job people will say the same thing about me, all I do is talk about Kate."

"So what do you do?" he inquires, taking a sip from his glass.

"I'm an Apprentice Chef at the Sheraton"

"Oh, you're a fancy cook".

"Not really, I prefer pastries and desserts."

"Maybe one day I can drop by, and you make me something special from the menu."

I shake my head, confused, and muster a plastic smile, "Sorry, but I'm married".

"I don't see a ring," he counters, still grinning.

Glancing to my bare hand my mouth hangs slack for a moment; I must have left it home. Nevertheless, it's a minor detail.

"No, I'm telling the truth, my husband is standing over there" I motion.

"I don't see that being possible, you're married to Christian Grey?"

"Yes . . . do you know him?"

"Not personally, we've met a couple of times here and there. He's known as a shrewd businessman and a not-so-friendly individual".

"I know him to be a shrewd businessman," I concur, "But my husband isn't a jerk, you don't know him."

"I agree, I don't know him, and maybe I've misjudged so I'll take the opportunity to apologize."

"Apology accept" I nod.

"But what I do know is that he has a beautiful wife," his eyes gleam for a moment as they're latched on to me. "So respectfully Mrs. Anastasia Grey, do you mind if we keep talking? As friends of course," he leans his glass to mine slightly.

I hesitate, eyeing him up and down, "Sure, as friends, I don't see a problem with that" I tap my glass to his and down the rest of my punch.

.

Christian

"What are you smiling at," I say to Elliot as he leans closer with a wide, mischievous grin.

"You remember, Jasmine."

No, I don't remember, and it shows on my face.

"You dated her for a month . . . . C'mon Jazzy, the sports therapist, tall, athletic"

"Insistent" I add.

"Yeah, she's here and she's coming this way" he whispers hurriedly.

Kate appears next to him and curls her arm in his, "Baby we need you we're doing Blind Man's Bluff".

At the beckon of her call, my brother is being dragged away from my sight, I turn back to see if I can spot Jasmine, she's already descended on me. I'm caught off-guard and almost launch myself backward.

"Christian Grey, isn't this peculiar? I come over to say hi and Elliot disappears".

"Hello, Jasmine" I murmur, looking over to my brother in the center of a buoyant gathering.

"Never thought you would see me again. How long has it been? Eight months, two weeks, and . . . three days, but who's counting" she chuckles mockingly.

"Certainly not me," I say, but she ignores my comment and continues.

"How is Grace doing?"

"She's doing well."

"I hear her therapy has been coming along. I saw her a few times at the health spa. I wanted to introduce myself but what would I say, 'Hello Mrs. Grey I'm Jasmine. Your son and I dated for a month and a week; we had sex a few times it was great. I thought we'd hit it off, but I guess we didn't, I didn't know that at the time though. I only realized when he stopped returning my calls'" she waves sarcastically.

"Jasmine, it wouldn't have worked out".

She sidesteps my remark, "I've been traveling with the team for a while now. Didn't you miss me?" I hold my tongue and stare blankly into her face. I think she got her answer. "I heard you and Elliot were off the market, married. His wife is pretty" her glance moves to Kate, "and so is yours. But she doesn't look like what you normally go for".

"So I've heard countless of times . . . . Maybe I got bored with normal" I sneer; my glare continues to penetrate her.

"Or maybe you're just experimenting with something different. Being married gets also boring after a while, I would know".

"You should get that checked out, your negative views on marriage and the reason why you're attempting to interrupt another person's marriage."

She scoffs lightly, "I'm at the same place, I have the same number . . . Call me, to talk, a session, anything you need" Her eyes dip below my waist.

Ana

My vision is a bit foggy but I'm not blind. It's been more than four minutes Christian's been talking to a very attractive blonde on the other side of the room. Jealousy irks my emotions and I'm all ready to go over there and break them like a green-eyed, insecure wife.

The thick crowd roars in cheers and applause to Kate, who purposefully mastering her game. More people have gathered around making it difficult to spy on Christian. I part the crowd and make my way out when I spot a few uninterested people scattered across the room. No Christian, no leggy blonde woman. An avalanche of concepts tumbles through my head based on the last time this happened. This time I will not make a move; I won't go looking for him and don't want to see something that will rip my heart out. It's enough that I caught Ethan with someone else then I saw Christian with his ex, but that's supposed to be water under the bridge.

My thoughts paint an image of desire and lust playing out somewhere in this apartment between Christian and that woman. My head begins to pound, and I drag myself to the nearest stool. Quickly I call Taylor to come get me upstairs, I'm too lightheaded to walk on my own.

.

I thought I would be immune to him, but I'm not.

I'm such a fool, conjuring things that are not there. Yes, we have grown more tolerable of each other but that's all it is . . . Tolerance. Since I came here my mind has been trying to wrap itself around my hallucinations and what I think happened earlier. For a moment I allow peace to envelop me with my elbows on the counter, my palms cupping my forehead, and a searing mug of peppermint tea on the counter below my face.

It's another night of continuous rain when flashes of lightning flicker through the quiet Penthouse. I sit at the counter alone and burdened as I try to escape through the steam of the hot beverage rising to my nostrils. My body unwinds and I mentally slip into a deep state of relaxation. Then, echoes of his distinguishable footsteps tread lightly across the floor in the adjacent room, my quiet moment is momentary. He strolls slowly into the kitchen with his hands in his pockets and a straight face. I take my eyes away from his and look back at my cup.

"What are you doing here?" he announces very composedly.

"I wasn't feeling well at the party."

"Are you feeling better now?"

"Yes," I lie.

"Why didn't you let me know you were leaving? Why didn't you let me know you were here?"

"Kate knew where I was, maybe Elliot knew. . ."

"Don't you give me that answer. Why didn't you let me know where you were?" he repeats.

I close my eyes, "Because I didn't want to talk to you".

"What," he whispers confused, "What did I do now, Anastasia, why are you upset?"

"It's nothing"

"Don't do this, Anastasia, I want to know why you're behaving so irrationally".

"Yes Christian, I'm being irrational," I begin, feeling my emotions tumble in my chest, "Don't worry, this isn't about you, this is about me because I'm very angry with myself. As a matter of fact, you know what my problem is, I've become too emotionally attached to you, I should have killed it off when I felt it coming on. How stupid of me to have whimsical expectations-"

"I'm glad you said that, because it is stupid" he fires.

"Fine, then we shouldn't be having this conversation," I say, climbing off the stool. I grab my phone and leave my cup of tea behind.

"We're not done, Anastasia" he yells at me.

"Oh yes, we are" I shout back heading towards the hallway, he cuts me off at the pass. He's too close to me right now so I take a couple of steps.

"You're going to stand here and listen to me" he threatens, "Yesterday I thought we were getting somewhere. . ."

"So did I," I counter. "Until you disappeared with that woman"

He's staring at me as if I just grown an extra limb. "At the party? I didn't go anywhere with her".

I remain mum, examining his expression. My mind is deliberating with me to have some dignity and common sense, and the other side wants reassurance and security. I want to trust him blindly, but want to hound him like a suspicious, unreasonable woman, because I wouldn't want that for myself.

"Wait a minute," he snickers, "You're jealous, you were paying attention to me?"

"What if I am?"

He studies my expression, I'm a bit flustered. "Why are you jealous, Anastasia? Is it because you don't trust me with other women? Do you see Ethan in me?"

"Don't do that?"

"Then what is it? Ethan cheated on you and you won't believe anything I say. Is it that you won't allow your mind to move out of the past? What should I say about that guy who sat next to you for most of the night? Should I think that you were going to run away with him the first chance you got because it happened to me? You're an intelligent woman, Anastasia but what you did a couple of hours ago was judgmental and unjust. You left because you thought I was with another woman".

"You did it before, in Australia-"

He becomes irate, "I thought we were past that-"

"We are, but I can't forget-"

"Yesterday we were talking about trust. What's going on now?"

"I don't know, I don't know what this is. I can't deal with this anymore it's too much".

"What's too much, I don't understand."

"You and me, maybe we should take a break. . ."

"What? What are you saying?"

"Maybe we should separate for a while".

A storm is slowly brewing in his eyes, the atmosphere around us shifts and I'm the target of his imminent rage. His eyes are dark and he's taking small steps toward me, my mind urges me to stand my ground but reflexively I step back.

"Is that what you want Anastasia, you want some distance between us?"

My legs bump into the back of the couch; I'm trapped by his venomous gaze.

"Hmm, how about you go back to Australia" he whispers coldly, "I knew this was going to happen. Every time I start to feel something significant for someone, in comes the complications".

"What?"

"You heard me . . . You want space then I'll give you space, but I'm not giving you a divorce, so don't expect one, you hear me-"

"You don't mean that-" I say, desperately searching his face.

"It doesn't matter, you'll be tied to me for the rest of your life, and you'll be just as lonely and miserable as I'll be, it's a fitting reply for putting me through this ordeal, making me fall for you only to take it away because of your selfishness-"

I'm shaking my head as tears begin to form in my shocked eyes, his demeanor is cold and detached. It appears he's speaking from a far too familiar place, but it doesn't sound like him.

"No, I thought-"

"You want a break, I'll give you one, but you won't be free of me. I promise to protect you from the world, but there won't be anyone who could protect you from me"

"Christian, stop it" I've had enough of this.

"WHY, I'M GIVING YOU EXACTLY WHAT YOU WANT"

"STOP IT" I push him hard against his chest with all my strength making him stumble backward.

The dam of tears breaks, trickling down my face. Slowly I manoeuvre myself from him and head back to the corridor.

He calls out to me, but I don't reply. I pick up the pace and head towards my room, he's bolting after me. When I get there, I enter and leave the door open, absentmindedly he's about to take a step inside.

"Don't you dare cross that threshold" I warn. Realization hits him and he slowly takes his foot away but stands on the edge of the doorway. Again, we stand apart staring, but this time through the barrier of an open door.

"Is this how you expected this marriage to turn out?"

"After tonight, I don't think I'll be expecting anything good from you" he states perceptively.

I cry, feeling crushed under the weight of his words, "Why are you being so cold to me? You don't understand-"

"I do understand, and me being this way is safe for me, so we won't have to do this . . . when you do nothing, nothing happens, nothing changes."

"No something has changed hasn't it" I wipe my face, but the tears continue to flow relentlessly. I walk closer to him stopping a few feet away.

"You know, when you told me everyone in Seattle knows I'm your wife, for a minute, I thought my heart stopped. The way you said it gave me chills and I was. . . . insanely happy strolling next to you yesterday. In my mind, even if it was for a minute or two, I believed you were my husband, and for the first time, I felt like I belonged to you. You talk about trust Christian, but all this time, have you ever trusted me?" his eyes grow wider like I've just struck him, "You're afraid, I can see that. I see it when you get too close to anyone, to me. You're holding yourself back because of your fears . . ."

"My fears, you know nothing about my fears, or we wouldn't be having this conversation," he argues, "You're the one who wants out of this marriage-"

"I didn't say that-"

"Space, a break, whatever the fuck you want to call it. Don't add frills to it, you want to get away from me, Anastasia-"

"No Christian, you think so because you're still cowering from your previous relationship, just like me. The difference is I'm not afraid, I'm afraid to tell anyone how I feel . . . I'm not afraid to tell you . . . What is it with you? You don't think you deserve to be loved by anyone, that's why you treat it with so much contempt and keep it at arm's length. Savannah hurt you and now everyone has to pay for it. . . ."

"Don't bring her into this, I can account for my own feelings. She has no bearing on what I feel for you or anyone else," he points with a stern finger.

"Oh yeah, and what are those feelings, Christian? What are you feeling for me?"

His commanding aura shrinks and shrivels at the end of my query. My eyes bounce left to right searching his bland face for a hint or inkling of the answer I'm eagerly awaiting. Suddenly I feel lonely and cold as he stares emotionless at me. I am but a solitary person here and shouldn't expect anything. But why? Why should I want anything to come of this? My consciousness becomes inflamed by his muteness making me curl my fingers into my palm. I level my breathing to chase away the stinging in my eyes and nostrils.

I take a deep breath and look him dead straight in his eyes. "You care for me, you said so yourself. Why couldn't you say it was more, Christian? Why couldn't I say anything?" I murmur to myself, "This whole thing is fucked up, because we were too afraid to admit how we feel, and you think your only option is to stand there and hurt me, rather than say what's in your heart. When the truth is . . . Is that I'm in love with you . . . I love you, Christian".

He shakes his head as if he's confused by what I just said.

"Christian, I said I love you . . . and I can give you a hundred reasons why."

Apparently shell-shocked, his stunned gaze mulls over every space around us except me. I take a step to bring him back to me but instead, he steps away. I'm flabbergasted and my eyes dip to his feet then back to his face, he's mentally rejecting the idea, and me.

"Say something, I want to know what you're thinking".

His eyes narrow by a fraction and he's impassive.

"Answer me," I say softly through beseeching tears.

He shakes his head, rejecting me further.

"What's wrong, you can't answer me because your ego won't allow you to. But why should I convince you? You don't deserve this; you don't deserve any of this. You can't love anyone, and you won't allow anyone to love you, is that it?"

My trembling fingers comb through my messy hair impatiently. My heart is bare and bleeding before him, I've never been so exposed and vulnerable and I'm too crushed to read anything else on his face, I can tell his anger is long gone, he's in shock. Eventually, I stop crying and compose myself, I want him to say something, anything but I'm waiting for something that will never come. I take a deep breath and focus straight ahead to his shirt, avoiding his eyes.

"I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, I know right now, I'm not going back to your mother's home, I'm staying here. Maybe we should be apart for a while . . . . . I was right, I fell in love with a man who doesn't feel the same way, it's okay, we shouldn't have done this" I conclude. I lift my watery eyes to his astonished, remorseful gaze, it's not the reaction I hoped for.

His face is distraught when I glance at him for the last time, "No, Ana, wait".

I turn and walk away to my adjoining bathroom and shut the door. My legs give out instantly and I collapse on the cold, tiled floor. Everything inside me comes bellowing to the surface screaming out in pained agony.