My dear little broccolis💚💚💚

💚 So, this story is dedicated to two particular authors with whom I have briefly touched on those issues, and who make amazing stories. paleseptember10 & Krooela. Go check them out, you won't regret it.

💚 Fallen Angel💚

How would have Christian Grey's life turned out if the Greys had intervened when Elena tried to sink her claws into him? Would he still be the same man as we know, or someone completely different ...

‼️Rated M - {Out Of Characters/All Human/Alternate Universe}‼️

‼️Romance/Angst/Drama/Lemons‼️

‼️AS/CG/The Greys/The Steeles/Jack Hyde/Elena Lincoln‼️

💚 READ & REVIEW, DON'T BE A SILENT READER 💚

Chapter 11: The Angel of Sleep (2,6K)

Christian's Pov

So, I see that you're not just a CEO, you're a boring one as well. Or are you still pouting over me not giving you my full name? ~ Ana

I smile at the message. It's almost two in the morning and I clearly didn't expect her to text me at all. Elliott took her on the offer, though we all know he was just waiting for an excuse to be with Miss Kavanagh. I didn't go because … though I wouldn't mind spending time with Anastasia, I don't want to give her other friends any reason to gossip. Elliott did try to drag me with him, but I stayed at the Heathman, working on my laptop.

Sleep has been escaping me, which is really annoying when I'm not home. I can't box, or swim, or play the piano. I'm just stuck in bed, looking at the ceiling. It's already annoying enough to have recurrent nightmares, it's even more annoying when I have insomnia just before them.

So Anastasia's text is more than welcome.

Aren't you supposed to be out partying like a wild animal? ~ Christian

I mean, I don't mind that she's not partying. Especially if she wants to talk to me. Maybe I shouldn't have ignored her earlier text and relied on Elliott to make an excuse for me, and I should have texted her that she could still join me after the bar. You know, so we could talk and get to know each other better.

I look at the screen, waiting for the three little dots, but instead, her name appears and once again, I smile like an idiot before swiping right.

"Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?" She says as a greeting, and I can tell that she's already in bed, her head under the covers.

"I'm not much of a sleeper, Anastasia. What about you? Why aren't you out partying? I thought that was the whole point of graduating," I tease her, and she gasps with shock and indignity,

"Mr Grey! What about the degree, the education, the prestige? I never pictured you as one to advocate debauchery! I am … appalled!"

I laugh with her, putting down my laptop and switching off the light. No point trying to work whilst I'm on the phone with Anastasia. Especially since this is a first. Sure, I called her Monday night because of the fucker, but .. this time, she called, and it's just to talk.

"I just thought that you'd be clubbing until the wee hour. Isn't it how young women find partners, ie, your roommate."

"I've heard of that tale as well. But I have far better company in my bed to keep me warm. At the moment, he's tall, mysterious, blond, with amazing blue eyes at the limit of violet and … a wicked passionate tongue. I'm swooning. I might just marry this man."

I frown, not sure if it's appropriate for her to call me when she has a man in her bed. Not that it's my business, but I wouldn't want her to do so if I were the one in her bed (not that would ever happen). But then, it tilts …

"Oh? And where is he from? 19th century England? 18th century France?"

She chuckles and I hear her move before she responds, "Actually, you're off a few years. He's from … millennia BC. But I guess he's from France since at some point I'm pretty sure the Lascaux cave is discussed."

There is some longing in her voice and I'm not sure if it's because of her fictional man, or because she wants to visit the famous cave with prehistoric paintings. "Have you ever been to France?"

"Have I even ever left the continental US? Have you ever been to France?"

"A few times. But I've always stayed in Paris. I'm not much of a tourist."

"Too busy taking over the world, eh?" She teases me and I chuckle with her. She asks me about the food in Paris, and I can't pretend that I didn't enjoy it. France is not known to have the best gastronomes for nothing. They do know their shit. I ask her if about the place she most wants to go to in the world, and … this girl wants to die.

"I want to climb Everest."

"Everest as in highest-mountain-in-the-world-where-countless-people-died-trying-to-reach-the-top-Everest?"

"That very same one," She singsongs and I have to close my eyes for a second. It's one thing to climb walls in a secured location on her off days, it's another to go on a suicide mission.

"That seems … highly dangerous."

"That's the old person in you talking. Everest is not for now, anyway. I have to train and all. But it's for my 25th birthday. This year, I'm thinking of something more local. I'll never get two months off straight after starting at whatever job I'll start in."

"Oh, you found a job?" I ask, steering her clear from her crazy ideas of going places where she will freeze to death. There is a small silence before she lets me know,

"Well, I am still too young to do what I actually want to do, so I have quite a few interviews booked for next week."

"What do you want to do? President of the US? I'm not sure I'd vote for a president who can't stick to one name."

"Haha. Better being indecisive with names than with the fate of the whole country. But Dad would never forgive me if I put my nose in that kind of politics. Especially in this country."

I shudder, recalling her father and his deathly stare. Or grip. Or aura. In fact, "I have to say I am curious how the fucker of Friday night lived when your father seems so …"

I'm looking for the word, and she laughs at me before patronisingly saying, "You think I'm stupid enough to tell my father about … what happened? I know how he reacts to that kind of behaviour, and I am not that vindictive that I wish for the guy to die."

"Maybe I should have enlightened him, then." I retort because I wouldn't mind at all if Colonel Steele decided to turn the fucker into a punching bag. I would do it myself if only she would give me his name.

"Maybe, but that would make you a really crappy friend," She lightly says, and for a moment, I consider being a crappy friend. If it means she's safe at the end of the day … But then again, that might mean that she would cut me off and no longer want to … be my friend. I can hear Martha's voice admonishing me, and I take a deep breath to change the topic.

"Where are your interviews? Maybe I can put in a good word for you."

"Nepotism, nepotism," She singsongs and I'm pretty sure that if I were in front of her, she would shake her finger at me. "I do happen to have graduated with very good grades and very good recommendations from my professors, so I won't need the help of any CEO-slash-serial-killer. But, if as my friend, you want to give me pointers to things that will definitely impress any employer, I'm all ears."

I chuckle and think about it for a while. It's been a while since I hired anyone first hand. In fact, the last two people I hired were Andrea (my PA) and Ros (my second). I could tell Anastasia that I can get the head of HR to contact her first thing in the morning and train her for interviews, but that's what CEO-slash-serial-killers do, and she did ask as a friend.

"Well … it always depends on what you apply for. But having a good knowledge of the company you will work for is always good, so you might want to become a bit of a stalker. Don't be just passive answering questions, but have a few yourself. And … be confident that you already have the role. Confident, not arrogant. No one likes an arrogant ass."

"I'm sure French people do," She jokes and I laugh before killing that cliché for her,

"French people are not arrogant nor rude, they are unapologetically honest. It's brutal sometimes."

"Well, I'll take your word for it, and when I'll go there to climb Mount Blanc, I'll let you know if I agree."

"Or, I can take you there without you trying to uselessly kill yourself on some stupid icy rock," I say without thinking and there is a small silence. I wait for her to retort anything, idly wondering if she fell asleep and when a whole minute passes by, I call out for her,

"Anastasia?"

"Sorry, I heard things I did not want to hear." There is a shiver in her voice and I pale, sitting up. Is there a burglar at her place?

"Do you want me to call the police?"

"Uh? Why? For them to tell your brother to get off quieter?"

Now, it's my turn to shiver. I have been lucky and only caught Mia in bed with anyone. Never Elliot and even luckier, never our parents. Unlike Elliott and Mia who are scarred for life. Mia came to live with me for a month when she did. And Elliott refused to eat at the dinner table for a week (the unlucky bastard caught them when he was still living at home).

"I am sorry you have to live through that. Maybe you should put some music on."

"No, it's okay. I just didn't realise that Elliott could get so high in his octaves. But anyway, I didn't picture you as a leisure kind of guy. I mean, being such a big and important person at such a young age … do you even sleep?"

"Oh? So I am no longer a grandpa, now?" I tease her because this is the first time she's referring to me as young. I mean, I know I am, and she is right, I did accomplish a lot in very little time. And though it was hard, and I did fight a lot with my family about that, I finally found a balance between work and me-time, to Martha's greatest pleasure.

"I am human, Anastasia. I do allow myself with downtimes once in a while."

"Urgh, are you going to call me Anastasia all the time?"

"Well, it's what was written on your diploma," I taunt, and she lets out a heavy sigh,

"You really suck at this friend thing. Friends are not supposed to rile each other up," She whines, though her tone is playful.

"I think I like riling you up. In fact, I think you owe me something for letting me believe that your first name was Rose for over three weeks."

"Fine. What do you want? I have very few things to offer to a CEO, to be fair. But I have just discovered the joys of having a servant at my beck and call. I could do that for you for … let's say a couple of days?"

I swallow, forbidding my brain to go down this path. Anastasia Steele at my beck and call, to do as I see fit. Nope. I shake my head and clear my throat.

"I'll think of something better. But I will cash it in at some point, don't forget."

"What about you?"

"What about me? I tried to give you my card, and you refused!" I retort, outraged. I have done nothing wrong.

"Yes. We covered that already. But …" There is a small silence and then she says, "And I quote your text, "I work for a local company." If I recall my primary school lessons, prepositions are quite important in a sentence and this one was clearly misleading."

Man, she should have been a lawyer. I did incredibly downplay the whole 'I own the word' shit when she asked about my professional life. In fact, I'll make sure to tell Martha about it. For once, I was humble.

But of course, since I don't like admitting when I'm wrong unless I'm forced to, I digress.

"Which reminds me. How did you not know about me when your roommate, and best friend from what I understand, interviewed me and did a whole article about me?"

This makes her laugh. "Kate hated doing that article because … reasons. But she was done for it the evening we got back home and I had no interest peeping on her homework just like she had no interest peeping in mine. You're not that important, Grey. Now, if you had been Ted Bundy … that's another story."

"Your obsession with serial killers is becoming worryingly morbid. Maybe you should see someone," I lightly joke, though I will ask Martha about that. Because … I now it's not normal human behaviour.

She laughs and I hear her yawn as she mumbles, "It's all part of the plan. Don't worry, you have too much empathy to actually be a serial killer. Though that would be a great story. A stupidly rich guy who kills people like a vulgar commoner. I should ask Stephen King to write something like that."

"Are you making any sense, or are you just blubbering words that come up to your foggy mind?" I chuckle and she yawns again.

"the brain is never foggy. It's always working. We just like to pretend we can't use it all the time because … we're lazy?"

I chuckle again and glance at the time. It's almost three. I have a video conference at seven and given the fact that I know I won't sleep well, it's going to be hard. I'm about to wish her goodnight, and when she stops me, suddenly all awake,

"Oh! I know how you can make it up to me!" Damn, she didn't forget that we didn't resolve that one part.

"Kate and Elliott have decided to crash my first climbing session in Seattle. Well, it's mostly Elliott. He wants to see me fall. But now I'm third-wheeling their lovey-dovey thing. Please come so I don't have to hold the candle for them."

I don't say a thing, because … one that sounds like a double date, of sorts. Two I'm not comfortable watching her climb and possibly fall. Three, I always do my best to avoid public outings with people who are not my family.

"Please. You don't even have to climb. You can just stay in a corner and work on your phone like the important person you are. I've just been third-wheeling for three months, and it sucks!"

"Okay."

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

💚Your thoughts and opinions are always welcomed💚

💚So, is that a date?

💚 And can anyone guess what Ana wants to do? There were a few hints in this chapter and the last, and if you can guess there is a surprise for you ...

💚 And Elliott seems to go high in the octaves ... do you think Christian will go high as well?

💚Well, let me know what you thought of this chapter. What was your favourite part? What do you think will happen next?

💚 E L James owns the names of the characters from the Fifty Shades franchise, Everything else is mine (including the mistakes and grammar errors).

Love, Mina 💚💚💚