A/N:

Thank you for all your lovely reviews, I really appreciate it. I hope you like the new chapter. Happy New Year!

What Love Gave Us

by

Ava LeBeau

Four

"Greed," he laughed, "I'm not destroying companies, Christian. I'm a liberator and trust me, I look at a lot of proposals day after day. So, I happen to think of all this as some sort of deliverance, the ultimate release."

"Now you're blasphemous, father. Anyway, the trust fund…"

"You're going to break your mother's heart, son."

"Stop changing the subject, father. We're not talking about mother's feelings. I'm here to talk business."

"And I am telling you that I want you to carry out that audit. Let's see if you're fit to start a business of your own, son."

That muscle in Christian's jaw started to twitch, he wasn't keen on carrying out said audit. To him, it was only a waste of time.

Instead, he wanted out.

And he wanted his money.

The sooner, the better.

He was through with working for his father and all that came with it.

He was ready to launch something new.

"I sure am, father."

"Don't be smart with me."

"And there's no need to—"

"Oh yes, there is. Did you know that the total wealth of the richest one percent in this country reached a record forty six trillion dollars? I wouldn't want you to squander any of your trust money on some foolhardy ideas. And I'm sure your mother wouldn't either. Out of the question! The most important lesson in business is to not get emotional and not do anything rash, Christian. So, you will hear me now and do this: you carry out this audit. Find out if they're as profitable as we'd like to think they are. Then we can talk. If it's not, we've got a problem. A problem I want you to take care of. If that's the case I'm going to put you in charge to show everyone that thanks to your intellect and upbringing you're capable of taking charge. Unlike others. But first of all you are going to audit them on my behalf. Speculation is the root of all evil. That's why we need information. Facts. Numbers. Understand?"

Christian was pacing his fathers's office like a caged tiger, ready to strike, ready to draw blood.

He was sure that his father was fucking this up for him. And he was sure that his father knew. Knew that he, Christian, knew.

His father didn't like losses. Of any kind.

And that's why his father wouldn't get off his case easily.

Carrick Grey liked to be in charge. He liked to control everything. At all times.

After all, he was the head of the family. Their family. Head of what Christian called his family.

And without doubt Carrick Grey was making sure that everybody was toeing the line, adhering to the rules. His rules.

Christian liked to think of himself as the enfant terrible of the family since day one, even though his mother had insisted otherwise. So fuck the rules and do it anyway.

This was going to be more than a simple field test, it was going to be one of his father's much dreaded tests of character, and Christian was well aware of this. But he knew that he was going to succeed, definitely unwilling to let his father win. Not when it came to this matter. His matter.

"We could set a new milestone regarding the payment of this tranche of the trust fund. Negotiate the key points."

"We're negotiating?" Christian's proposition seemed to have piqued his father's interest.

"Always," the younger Grey said, just like his father usually did.

"Who taught you that?"

"The best teacher you can wish for…," anything to appease him, a futile attempt at leniency.

Carrick's smile didn't reach his eyes, it was more of a snarl than anything, his facade of smug superiority unwavering.

"We both know it's a lost cause," Christian tried to wiggle out of all this once again.

"I have complete confidence in your expertise and your assessment, Christian."

"Father…"

There was a soft knock on the door and his father's assistant strutted into the room, smiling a flawless smile. She was carrying a small tray that held a bottle of Perrier and tea. Carrick Grey motioned for her to step closer, saying, "My son was just about to leave, Gloria."

The assistant, still smiling, nodded and said, "Your three-o'clock appointment is waiting, sir. The dossier is in the folder to your left, sir."

Gloria set down the tray, her slender hands swiftly moving to pour and serve her boss a cup of tea.

"I'm late for a meeting, Christian," Carrick Grey said flatly, opening said folder and taking a quick glance at the document.

"I expect your status update on my desk on Monday. First thing in the morning. Also, your mother is holding a brunch on Sunday. Bring Lily. She's such a delightful young lady. Your mother adores her."

Delightful? Now that's what you'd like to believe. Cock-loving more like, Christian thought and nodded quietly. Not that he was complaining even though Lily was currently 'taking a break' from their relationship as she liked to call it.

With that Carrick Grey turned his attention to a large video screen and greeted his interlocutors, utterly ignoring his son's presence.

"Weston. How've you been? Busy vacationing, I suppose? " his fake laughter filled the room, "How's Cecilia?"

Meanwhile, his father's assistant inclined her head a little, that radiant smile still firmly in place. It was her way to tell Christian that it was time for him to leave and she reached for his elbow, touching it gently, steering him towards the heavy wooden office doors as if he were a little boy.

It was an emphatic yet deferential move to usher him out of the office and Christian couldn't help but side-glance at her, giving her a once-over.

Gloria had been working for his father for more than a decade but didn't seem to have aged much. She was the complete opposite of his mother, blonde, ethereal almost, and Christian was wondering if his father was still sleeping with her, if he was paying for all the beauty procedures, that flawless smile and, his gaze came to a quick halt at her cleavage, the undoubtedly first-rate plastic surgery.

"Yes, Grace is doing great…," his father's voice dragged him out of his thoughts, echoing from the high wooden ceilings of his office as he spoke.

Carrick's assistant closed the imposing doors behind Christian, leaving his father to his talks and afternoon appointments.

On his way out of the impressive office tower, Christian glanced down at the phone in his hand and the constant influx of messages and appointment requests.

It was only late November but it felt like everything smelled of cinnamon and pine and Christian wondered if that was Christmas music in the background that was buzzing in his ears.

He swiped the pad of his thumb across the display and called Lily.

"Where are you?"

"In the middle of something, honey."

Now it was honey again, he arched an eyebrow.

"What's something?"

"You're such a dick, Christian."

"I am," he smirked, "and you dig it."

She let out a deep drawn sigh that made him grin.

"I'm kinda busy, Christian."

"What if I don't care?"

She ignored his last comment, "You?"

He glanced down at the Hublot on his wrist, "Sort of. I had a late lunch meeting with my father. Are you home? I mean, I could slot you in if you beg."

"I said I am busy…"

"Shopping?"

"Gosh, I hate you."

"Love it when you talk dirty, babe," he laughed and pulled out his key to unlock the Audi.

"You've got me there, I love you, honey."

Christian smirked and got into the car.

"Listen, mother is holding a brunch this Sunday. My parents would very much like to have you there. With me."

"Sunday?"

"Exactly," he adjusted his cuff link.

"Are you going to pick me up?"

"That can be arranged."

"What do you want me to wear?"

"Wear a skirt or dress or something," he shrugged, "And high heels, okay?"

"That's misogynistic, Christian…"

"Trust me, I love women," he let out a raspy laugh.

"Christian—"

"Laters, baby, " unwilling to kick off further discussion about the whole topic he ended the call and started the engine.

The thought of Lily having a busy Sunday morning, getting ready for him and only him in every presumable way, was having a considerable impact on his mood. With a big grin on his face, Christian steered the car out of the parking lot and onto the street.

Two pieces of sugar, just as he liked it.

True, she was taking her sweet time, now that she'd conquered the ever so relentless morning queue in front of the battered wooden counter. Taking her time to prepare her mentor's coffee was a time well invested. Oh, he was obnoxious without his coffee in the morning. Obnoxious in the most pesky ways.

With nimble fingers, she steeped the tea bag. Only for the blink of an eye or maybe two, she didn't like her tea strong. Instead she preferred it to be inoffensively subtle. Nothing too brisk in the morning for her. So unlike Jack, she preferred her mornings to be slow and calm.

Six stirs, disposing of the wrinkled, soaked tea bag, a handful of napkins. An almost meditative routine, repeated every morning. It was all she needed to be ready to head out of the small coffee shop on the corner, in a hurry all of a sudden. Yes, she was going to miss the bus. Again.

She could feel her phone buzzing in the outer pocket of her coat. Even though it was almost ten, it was still cold outside. After all, it was already late November and Christmas less than six weeks away.

Fishing the ringing phone out of her pocket, all the while trying to not spill the hot drinks and running to the bus stop, she piped, "I'm almost there, Jackie boy."

His only answer was a long drawn growl.

He really hated it when she called him that.

In the beginning he'd insisted on her calling him Mister Hyde or Sir even. But it was only a few weeks later that he'd asked her to call him Jack instead. And it'd been Jack ever since.

It was her first real job and she deemed herself glad to have him as her mentor. He'd maintained that she was very promising, talented and had an engaging character. But, to be honest, she wasn't so sure about his perceptions. Bouts of imposter syndrome had wrecked her sleep, had sent feverish shivers down her spine at the most untimely moments. During meetings with their boss, Jack's boss, her boss's boss so to speak.

"Has she dumped you?" she mocked.

"What? Oh, that… No, it's worse."

"Worse?" she could feel her heart sink, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder, waving for the bus to hopefully wait for her as she scrambled towards it.

"We're fucked, Ana," he was sounding rather despondent.

"What? Why?" her stomach clenched.

She smiled at the bus driver, though, glad that he waited for her, and headed towards the back of the vehicle to snag one of the remaining free seats, still balancing the cups.

"Where are you?"

"Just around the corner. Coffee run, Mister Grumpy Pants. Remember?"

She knew she wouldn't be able to placate him, not today. He was pissed off beyond control, that much she could tell, and no coffee in this whole damn world would be able to change that. Hard to please, that man.

A good nine minutes later she hurried toward the large building. A dark SUV of German make blocked the employee entrance. Actually it was parked across two car spaces, making her wonder who does that?

Her eyebrow arched with indignation, she wiggled past the car, careful as to not scratch it or trigger its alarm for that matter, and pushed the door open with her elbow.

Hannah gave her that look when Anastasia reached her desk and so she walked right through to his office.

Of all jobs, placating their fickle boss, or taming the beast as she and Hannah had joked now and again, was her job. And it had always been that way.

"It's the project about the starvation victims, right? They don't like our approach. We can rewrite the decision paper, don't worry, Jack. I'll see to it immediately," Ana walked around his cluttered desk and to the window where he was standing, his broad back turned on her.

"Jack?" her voice was low and soothing and she held out the coffee for him as if she were trying to bait a vicious dog.

"Are you trying to kill me?" he grumbled and her eyes darted to his face.

"What? No… Of course not, Jack."

"Then pour it away."

"The coffee?"

"Yes."

"What the hell is wrong with you, Jack? Look at me…"

He turned to look at her, causing her to furrow her brow. Anger seemed to be glowing in his pale blue eyes.

"He's here. We're fucked," he tugged at the collar of his shirt as a vein in his neck popped out, his cheeks tinged an ugly crimson.

"Who's here? Why are we fucked?" Anastasia drew her eyebrows together while the smile on her face slipped.

After a moment of silence she led the way to the couch that stood across the room.

"Christian Grey. It's all over, Ana."

"Christian Grey?" her insides clenched at the mention of his name, "What are you talking about?"

"I feel like puking."

Why did he always have to be so overdramatic?

"Tea?" Anastasia held out her cup to him.

"Nah," he scrunched up his face, curling his lip.

It sure was bad, very bad.

"So, what's he doing here?" Anastasia leaned closer, her shoulder brushing against his.

"Who?" Jack Hyde rubbed the back of his neck as if he had a bad headache before he put his hands behind his head, slouching back into the firm Chesterfield sofa, not gracing her with so much as a single glance.

"Christian Grey?" she said, taking a sip from her cup.

"The devil incarnate," Jack said, his voice sepulchral.

"The— what?" Anastasia almost choked on her tea but managed to bite back a chuckle.

Melodramatic, that one.

And then she heard his voice in her head and all the memories came back.

I love to call you angel.

Anastasia bit her lower lip.

"He is. Son of Carrick Grey, the biggest cutthroat in Seattle. The spawn of evil."

"Jack…," Anastasia rolled her eyes.

"Yes, we're fucked. I told you."

"Why… I mean, what is he doing here?" she said, casting a curious glance at her mentor.

"Well, all I know is that he isn't fucking around on the beach with an armada of Victoria's Secret model somewhere in the Fijiis just like he usually does at this time of the year, but instead…," a dramatic pause, "... instead, he is conducting an audit here. An audit of all things. Here," Jack let out a long breath while his elbows came to rest on his knees, his fingers raking across his scalp.

"I see. And how does that work?"

Jack's only answer was a derisive snort.

"We have to get the papers in order, Ana. Like pronto."

"Okay…"

"We're fucked," he burried his face in his hands, his voice now muffled, "Totally fucked."

"We should probably talk to him," Anastasia suggested.

"Talk," Jack looked up, looking tired and drawn as he let out a mirthless laugh. Then he lowered his voice, "No need to do so, Ana. I mean, I'm sure he can hear us… Smell us…"

"Ja-ack," Anastasia rolled her eyes and nudged him gently in the ribs with her elbow, "Calm down."

"Ow," her mentor grumbled, throwing her a disdainful glance as he rubbed his side, strands of his disheveled hair sticking out in each and every direction.

To placate him, Ana whispered, "And where is he now?"

"Who?"

"Satan himself?"

"Oh, he's upstairs in Jerry's office. Discussing the key points. Christ…. we're so fucked."

Anastasia rolled her eyes again.

"Alright, what do you want me to do?"

All of a sudden, the old Jack, the Jack she liked best, was back in charge:

"Revise the decision paper, brush up the portfolio charts, Ana. We need the latest numbers, you hear? We need a presentation. Death by PowerPoint… if you know what I mean," he let out a low growl. "Apart from that I want you to keep your head down, maybe even work from home. This guy's a monster, a predator of the worst kind. We wouldn't want you to get bitten, would we?"

Anastasia furrowed her brow and the summer night in the garage sprung back to her mind. There had been nothing predatory about Christian Grey. In fact he'd been a rather cute drunk, all cuddly and chatty, less haughty than usual. A grin tugged at the corner of her mouth when she recalled the way he'd held her more of less the entire night, downright craving her touch, almost possessive. The Christian Grey she'd met that night surely had been many things but predatory was not one of them.

When there was a knock on Jack's office door, he jumped to his feet.

Hannah opened the door a tiny crack and peeked inside.

All the color had drained from Jack's face and he said, "What is it?"

"Jack? Jerry's assistant just called. Jerry's taking Mister Grey out for lunch. Jerry wants to talk to you in his office when he's back. At around two-thirty. Do you want me to confirm?"

His hands clasped behind his back, Jack puffed out his chest, "Sure. Does he want me to bring something? Any reports? The latest propositions perhaps?"

"Don't think so," Hannah looked down at her feet for a moment, "His assistant only said that he wants to talk to you."

"Of course," Jack said snidely and Hannah's and Anastasia's eyes met, both looking appalled.

Maybe they were fucked.