What Love Gave Us

by

Ava LeBeau

Nine

"And then I kissed him last night."

"Jeez, you did?"

"Well, actually he kissed me…"

"Oh?"

"... and I… slapped him," Ana mumbled, picking at her cuticle, her cheeks crimson by now.

"Wait… So, you're telling me that you actually wanted him to kiss you but when he did, you smacked him?"

"Mmmh, yes."

"I don't have to understand that, now, do I? Did he say anything?"

"Not really."

"And then?"

"I just left."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. Well, I blamed myself all night and hoped he'd stop by or call or something."

"Why would he? He has every right to feel offended and rejected."

"Kate, seriously, it has nothing to do with Christian... I mean, kind of… it was just the way he... y'know… I had that dream about it and he just ruined it for me. And then I panicked… I mean there was this office party going on next door. What if anybody saw us? What if he was only trying to sleep with me?"

"Okay, Christian ruined it, right. Guess what? I really think you should call him."

"Oh my God, no. I mean, why?"

"Ana!" Kate sounded exasperated, "Maybe you should make an effort if you want this to happen? Cause what's he supposed to think? He's being nice, he's not pushing you, you like it and don't tell him otherwise... but when he finally makes a move you slap him… Sounds kinda crazy to me."

"Well, let me remind you that you were the one who warned me about him, yep."

"Okay, right," Kate sighed.

"This is all so screwed up, I know that, Kate. What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

"Talk to him."

"I can't"

"Why?"

"Too embarrassed…"

"... to go and apologize and let him know that actually you wanted him to but panicked?!"

"Does that sound insane?"

"More than that," Anastasia could tell that Kate was rolling her eyes.

"Do you know if he's… uhm… out of town?"

"I don't know, Ana. What're you gonna do, go into hiding or what?"

Ana laughed, "Just trying to avoid him."

"Well maybe that's what he's doing too?"

Yes, maybe that's what he was doing and Kate was right, Christian had every reason to do so, even though she wished he would reach out. But she knew that this was probably too much to ask for and so she brushed that thought away.

Then her messenger in the taskbar flickered and she said, "Gotta dash, Kate, Roach wants to talk to me. Talk later."

Anastasia stood in front of Jerry Roach's desk feeling like some chastised schoolgirl and bowing her head slightly as he spoke.

"I expect the utmost professionalism from you at all times, Ms. Steele. Have I made myself clear? We can't afford to have Mr. Grey upset. Even less can we afford a bad report. What were you even thinking?"

"I... I'm sorry, sir." Yes, what was she thinking? How did he even know all this? "It won't happen again," she stammered.

And all of a sudden, disappearing from sight seemed like a great idea. She would keep her head down, just do her job and otherwise try to attract as little attention as possible. After all, she only wanted to successfully complete the trainee program. After that? That remained to be seen.

"It won't happen again, sir. You can trust me. I am truly sorry and I regret not being professional enough."

When Ana left Jerry's office, Jennifer was back at her desk again, watching her curiously, a fake smile plastered across her face. Without a single word Ana brushed by her desk and returned to her office.

"Phew, didn't think it'd be that muddy today," Elliot walked through the living room into the kitchen, a big white towel around his neck, "we should've gone sparring instead."

"It's been rainin' all night, what did you expect?"

"True," Elliot opened the fridge and scanned the contents.

"Water?" he pulled out two bottles and handed one to his brother.

Elliot was downing the water in big gulps before he said, "I think I'll have a quick shower."

Just at that moment, Kate joined the brothers, gasping, "Oh my gosh, look at you two!"

"All muddy and wiped out," Elliot laughed, spreading his arms, trying to hug her but Kate managed to avoid him. Kate's eyes wandered to the fluffy towel that was dangling from around her boyfriend's neck and had been a pristine white only moments ago.

"Oh no, why did you use one of those? I told you the white ones are off-limits when you come home after training, E."

Elliot side-glanced at Christian, who arched an eyebrow, and shrugged while Kate grasped one end of the towel and tugged it towards her, hugging it to her chest for a moment before she looked down at it, meticulously inspecting the damage done.

"Don't get so upset, pumpkin. You can always wash it out."

Christian, just as mud-caked as his older brother, watched the whole scene from a safe distance, only too aware of the possible impact of a furious Kate Kavanagh. But still he took his towel again, the perfect twin to Elliot's, and wiped his muddy face before he gingerly placed it over the back of one of the bar stools by the counter, pretending he'd never even touched it.

"Jeez, are those grease stains?" Kate stared at the incriminating black streaks on the towel before her gaze darted to her boyfriend's fingers.

"Chain suck. In the middle of the downhill trail. It really sucked big time," Elliot looked both frustrated at the nuisance back on the trail as well as somewhat contrite.

"Chain suck?" Kate raised her voice, her cheeks flushed, "Can't you use some dirt rag for this? How am I ever going to get it out again?"

"You're a true domestic goddess, pumpkin. So, that shouldn't be a problem for you," Elliot put the bottle down on the counter and moved to pull his sweaty bike jersey over his head with one hand.

"I hate you, E," Kate frowned, staring at him in disbelief while Elliot wiped his face on the jersey.

"I know you don't mean it, Katie. And now I'm going to take a quick shower," Elliot stepped closer and tried to kiss her, but she turned her face away in disgust.

"Yes, go get yourself cleaned up," she pressed her hand against his bare, clammy chest to keep him at arm's length.

"Do you want to take a shower too?" she looked at Christian as Elliot sauntered out of the kitchen.

"No, thanks, Kate," Christian emptied the bottle his brother had given him and handed it to Kate, who had already reached her hand out for it, irritation etched across her features.

"Are you going to call Ana at last?"

"Ana? Why?" Christian bit the inside of his cheek but maintained a straight face, unwilling to show her how much her words had affected him.

"Well, she's not like your other… playmates," her voice was thick with contempt.

"My other playmates?!" Christian let out a husky laugh and ran his hand through his damp hair. He plucked out a stray leaf that had got caught in his hair and twisted it back and forth between his fingers. Frowning, he looked at the leaf for longer than necessary, obviously thinking about Kate's choice of words and what she was trying to say.

"If you're planning to just use her, you're in trouble with me, Christian. You hear? Ana has a big heart. She's so sweet and innocent. She doesn't deserve to be treated like this."

"Treated like this?" Surely he'd been nothing but on his best behavior, withdrawn at times, yes, but not in a bad way. And then it dawned on him, how come she even knew about the kiss at the party?

"Wait a minute, you guys were talking about me? Why were you talking about me?"

"Because she's my best friend... and you're my boyfriend's brother... and a total player? Maybe she isn't sure she can trust you? Maybe I'm not sure you can be trusted with her?"

He felt Kate's eyes on him, scanning his features for any hint of deception, dishonesty, but he was sure that all she saw was a striking melange of hurt and consternation.

Christian let out an incredulous laugh, "uhm, say what?"

He shook his head in disbelief and a muscle in his jaw started to twitch.

"I've told her I'm tryin–"

"Well, maybe this time trying isn't enough, Christian. Why did you kiss her?"

"Because I felt like it?" he cursed himself for his casual retort the second the words had left his lips.

"At the company Christmas party? Brilliant idea," Kate's voice was heavy with sarcasm.

"Well, that's none of your business, Kate," all of a sudden his expression had hardened and his voice was cold and harsh.

"Like I said, she's my best friend, I love her and I feel like I have to protect her from you in some way... because you're just playing games with her."

Christian stared at her, his mouth set in a hard line.

"I'm certainly not playing games with her," he was unsure whether she'd noticed the indignation that was resonating in his voice.

"Are you sure?"

"Perfectly sure. I'd never lie to her."

Kate just laughed and threw the bottle in the garbage can, not deigning Christian a single glance.

"Alright, so you're insinuating that I only kissed her because I wanted to get her into bed?"

"Mhmm, something like that, yes," Kate nodded. She had turned her back on Christian and tried to rub the stain out of the fluffy white towel in the sink, using dish soap.

"That is by far the most outrageous thing a woman has ever said to me," Christian snapped, causing Kate to raise her eyebrows, surprised at his sudden outburst.

"Oh, really?" Kate laughed and turned around to face him.

Christian's eyes flickered, and Kate wasn't sure if it was anger or disappointment that made his anthracite eyes blaze.

"Tell Elliot I'll call him. And thanks for the water. Bye Kate," he nodded stiffly and turned to leave.

"Bye," was her only answer, she deemed it best to not grace his - in her eyes - overinflated ego with more attention than necessary.

"Touchy touchy," Kate said, more to herself, as the front door slammed shut and focussed on the ruined towel in the sink again.

Christian seemed impassive on the outside but yet he was trembling inside as he walked down the hallway, Gretchen on his heel.

The imposing oak door to his office was ajar, signaling him that he was expected. When he entered the room the floorboards were creaking as if they were to announce his arrival.

Almost immobilized by his father's intense stare, those pale blue eyes icier than Lambert Glacier, probably one of his sharpest weapons, a stare piercing enough to stop almost every man in his tracks, so penetrating to trigger the most instinctual urge to run, far away and in the opposite direction, in the strongest of men. But Christian had grown up with it, had gotten used to it, had even adopted his father's arctic demeanor in some way. After all that gaze had still been less scathing than those cigarettes, the burning cigarettes stubbed out on his pure skin by some sadistic swine, leaving marks in their wake for everyone to see, stigmatizing him for the rest of his life.

And once again faced with that piercing glare of Carrick Grey Christian welcomed that dull fog of indifference that pleasantly numbed him to his father's intimidation, steeled him against what was surely about to come. All the spite and venom. All the contempt and condescension.

Carrick Grey would never be able to hurt him like the other man had back then. Christian had sworn to himself that no one would ever be able to hurt him, physically or not. He'd sworn himself that no one would ever prevail over him.

"The whole project is horseshit, Christian," Carrick Grey's notorious temper never failed to disappoint, his voice harsh and cutting.

"Good afternoon, father," anything to assuage the elder's animosities.

"Don't get smart with me. It's horseshit and you know it. What makes you think I'd ever approve of it?"

Christian turned away from his father's acerbic remark in an attempt to deflect it under the ruse of pouring himself a glass of Scotch, sucking in a long breath as it felt hard to breathe all of a sudden, readying himself for a fierce discussion, a battle of wills, wondering if he should just give in and agree. But there was too much at stake, too much to lose, too much to destroy.

"When I ask you a question, you answer it, son," nobody made Carrick Grey wait.

Christian picked up his tumbler and contemplated its contents after a quick sip, the Scotch was exquisite, just like everything Carrick owned and consumed, he wouldn't accept anything less than exceptional.

"Well," Christian's voice was husky from the liquor, "I beg to differ, father," he said and dared to meet his father's unrelenting gaze.

Another sip to calm his nerves, "It's just what we need."

A derisive snort was Carrick's only answer and his eyes were taking on a dark, dangerous glow.

Only two sentences, it had taken only so few words to drive him mad, to irate him beyond help, Christian studied his father's features, wondering if he'd ever be good enough to meet his expectations.

"It's what people want to see, it's what they need to see. The true extent of the whole catastrophe," Christian struggled hard to keep his voice from quivering.

Carrick Grey sighed heavily, drawling, "I never thought you're such a dreamer, such a naive dreamer, Christian."

His words cut like a knife.

"Our sponsors don't want the truth, Christian," his voice was low and menacing.

"All they want is to be led to believe that they are sponsoring the picture of an ideal world, all they want to hear are sweet little lies. Why can't you see that?" the elder Grey's last words cut through the wide space between his desk and the place where Christian stood by the drinks cabinet.

Dread fluttered in Christian's stomach as Carrick Grey spoke and he felt like he might throw up, the Scotch anything but soothing but stirring up the perfect storm inside.

"I still think we should support it. The different approach," Christian bit the inside of his cheek, his face straight, his gaze steady, blinking only to momentarily break the hypnotizing effect of his father's penetrating glare.

"Tell me, why should a publishing firm have a hand in this business?" Carrick sounded exasperated and Christian knew he acted like that to put him in his place.

"Because it's easy money?" Christian was tired of this.

"It's a little girl's dream, that trainee's dream of the perfect world. A world that doesn't exist. There's always bound to be some collateral damage, Christian. That's the inherent nature of free market capitalism. That's what we make our money with and I don't see a reason why it should trouble us… or them, for that matter," Carrick hissed, his eyes only slits now, clearly relishing in the fact that Christian was squirming under his angry stare.

For a moment, a grim silence hung over the room.

Christian looked up just in time to catch his father's smirk.

"Now go talk to your mother, son, and ask her to show you the new pictures. I've got a call waiting."

"Of course you do," Christian felt defeated yet unable to fight any longer. The elder Grey rose from his chair. Despite his age his figure was still strong and sturdy and he was several inches taller than Christian. It was physical intimidation that took place of the verbal cut and thrust and Christian knew it was time to leave, time to leave his father behind, leave him to his dealings and transactions.

When it came to Carrick Christian could never win. And both men knew it.

The tumbler still in his hand Christian made his way to the living room, wondering if he would find her there.

The spacious room was deserted, his mother was nowhere to be seen, and he looked down at the tumbler, fighting the unyielding urge to let out his frustration, the picture of the crystal glass shattering into thousands of little pieces when he smashed it against one of the walls vivid before his inner eye. But he willed himself to spare his mother the anguish of him acting up in the wake of her husband's rampant condescension. It wasn't her fault that he wasn't able to come out on top, no matter how hard he tried.

And Christian knew that she loved him, just as much as she loved Carrick, his father, her husband.

He stopped in front of the fireplace, taking a closer look at the picture frames on the mantel. The pictures were snapshots of happier times. Carrick out fishing with his two boys. The family on holiday. He'd always been generous. With money. Yet not so much with his love and encouragement.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump, but when he turned to look at her, meeting her loving gaze, Christian relaxed into her touch.

"I'm sorry, I should've called," he leaned closer to kiss her cheek ever so gently.

"It's okay, I always love to have you here, my darling," Grace caressed his cheek, her hand soft against the stubble that had formed along his jaw.

She took a step back, her hands gripping his upper arms, and studied his features, Christian was sure she could read him like a book, "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

Christian noticed the line that had formed between her brows as she scrutinized him.

Christian sighed, weighing his answer for a moment, wishing he could just avert his gaze to avoid her staring straight into his soul.

There were so many things that were wrong, fucked up in so many ways, he didn't even know where to start and that's why he just spread his arms and hugged her to him, savoring her warmth, her tender caress as her hand reached up to stroke his cheek again and for a moment he closed his eyes, inhaling that familiar scent of hers, wishing she could make everything right again just like she had when he was only five years old. But things were different, so different, right now.

"Are you staying for dinner?" she was the first to break the silence and their hug for that matter.

"I'm afraid I can't," all he wanted was to spend a grueling workout at the gym, go for a run maybe, have one drink too many. Anything to wipe out every memory of the encounter with his father. Everything to take his mind off things.

"Nonsense," she said, hugging him to her again, her arms sliding around his waist, one of her hands stroking his back for a moment.

"I really can't," he wondered if he should stay but facing his father over dinner again was just too much to bear, even though he knew he'd disappoint her and disappointing her was what he hated most. After all he owed her a lot if not anything. She'd saved him and always believed in him. Made up for everything Carrick hadn't been able to give him.

Christian kissed her cheek and slipped out of her embrace, "Carrick said you've received new pictures?"

"Yes I have, they're gorgeous. So powerful, Christian. We're going to use it for the gala in New York. And the Charity ball next month."

"I see," was all he managed to say.

"Come, I'll show you," she took his hand in hers, pulling him with her to her office, the warmth and enthusiasm she was radiating soothing and relaxing him.

Three days, it'd been three fucking days she hadn't heard from him or seen him for that matter. Ana was curled up on the sofa when her phone rang, her heart skipping a beat when she realized it was him that was calling.

Her finger hovering over the answering button for a moment, Ana was contemplating her options, but there was only one option, right?

"Hi," she tried her best to sound casual.

"Ana?"

"Jepp," she bit her lower lip, his voice dark and husky.

"You're not supposed to be working on a Sunday," he said and she bit back the chuckle that was forming in her throat.

"Then why are you calling, Mister?"

"Guess you've got me there," he laughed one of those husky laughs she loved so much and Ana closed her eyes, wondering where he was, lounging on a lavish couch perhaps or sitting behind a luxurious desk in his office?

"I'm glad you called, I wanted to say thank you," her heart was pounding in her chest, a weight had been lifted from her soul and the most delicious joy was bubbling inside of her.

"Well, actually I just wanted to say I'm so sorry," Ana pressed her lips together, there was no need to say sorry, there was nothing to be forgiven. He'd given her a gift. A gift she hadn't deemed herself worthy of, but now everything had changed and she wished he'd feel the same.

"Okay," Ana bit her lip again.

"There's something I wanted to show you and I was wondering if you are free today," his proposal made her heart skip yet another beat.

"Sure," she piped, heading over to the bedroom, glancing at her reflection in the mirror, her hair all tousled and out of control.

"I could pick you up in thirty minutes, if that's okay."

Thirty minutes? Her gaze darted to the heap of clothes on her bed.

"Uhm, okay," she chewed on her lip.

"'kay. I'll see you then."

"Bye," Ana piped and hurried to the bathroom.

A/N: As always I'd like to thank you for all your reviews and concrit, they mean a lot to me. Tell me, do you hate Carrick just as much as I do for giving Christian such a hard time? But still I think that Christian is doing such a great job, standing his ground. Let me know what you think. I always love hearing from you. So, thank you for taking the time and reaching out. Take care. x