Chapter Nineteen
~Christian~
Seven weeks later
"Does that hurt?" I ask her.
"Well, it certainly doesn't tickle."
"I don't appreciate your smart mouth, Miss Steele." My chin is resting on her bare shoulder as I watch her squeezing the soft rubber ball in her hand.
"Don't then, Mr. Grey."
Smiling broadly, I lower myself onto the sun lounger beside Anastasia, who is efficiently doing the hand exercises that her occupational therapist schooled her in. She's wearing a large straw hat over an almost indecent royal blue bikini, and has a look of deep concentration on her face. I've noted that she no longer winces while she's doing this exercise.
I stare at the straw roof above us and take in the crystal-clear water of the Indian Ocean before me. We've spent the past three weeks at this secluded luxury resort off the coast of Zanzibar. I rented a private villa to ensure we had complete privacy. We had to get out of Seattle. If we hadn't, the stress over what happened in Portland would have cut Ana in half. Hell, it would have cut me in half. The worry, the guilt, and the anger felt crippling.
I rented five more villas for the ten-member security detail to stay in, and another four to house the OBGYN and nurses that I hired to come along to take care of Anastasia. She thought that I was crazy when I told her about those plans, but I didn't care. She's pregnant, and I'm not risking her health or the health of my unborn child. I also brought a neruo doctor in case she had more blackouts or something went awry. Ana said that there was healthcare here, but I wanted to bring along our own. They're highly recommended, and when they heard what I was willing to pay them, they nearly ran to my jet.
Ana's been lazing beside our villa's private pool all day, slathered in sunscreen to protect her beautiful porcelain skin and reading a book entitled, "What to Expect When You're Expecting." Idly, I wonder what chapter she's on. I have my own copy and am already into a woman's sixth month of pregnancy. It's already brought on several panic attacks. I'm scared shitless. I also wish September would hurry up and get here so we can meet our baby, because Anastasia refuses to find out the sex. She has no preference. I have to be honest; I want a son.
Ana is in her sixteenth week of pregnancy, and I can't stop looking at, and touching her baby bump. Her already beautiful breasts are larger and her long hair seems to be glowing. She has always been the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, but now Ana's radiating like a goddess. I'm a walking hard on, and she's insatiable. Everything I've read about pregnancy women, say that a pregnant woman's libido increases due to pregnancy hormones. I'm not complaining, even if she wants to fuck several times a day. Elliot refuses to believe me. He's too busy reminding me that I'm cut off from sex for six weeks after Anastasia gives birth. I can't imagine how hard that's going to be.
We've been lucky that Ana hasn't experienced another blackout episode since the one at my mother's birthday party. Though our luck runs out when it comes to the nightmares Ana is experiencing due to the trauma she endured inside of that hotel suite. Before, she was suffering from night terrors about memories she couldn't place. Now, she's suffering from ones that are all too real – the brutality and evil of Leila Williams. She's blessed if she only has two of the mother fuckers a week. I'm left feeling guilty that Ana's going through all of this. I feel that it's my fault that Prescott spoon fed Ana to Leila.
Even though I've done my best to explain our past to her, I know that I should have told her that the older woman who introduced me to BDSM was Elena. I can't explain why I didn't tell her. I've analyzed that fuck up from a hundred different angles and don't know why I didn't. Is is it the fact that I stayed friends with Elena before Ana's attack and she finally had enough of it and gave me the ultimatum to choose her or Elena? Ana doesn't know that I didn't find the answer challenging to make. It was Ana. It always was, and always will be Ana.
I'm starting to feel uneasy about Elena and why she's been calling me after months of no contact. The fact that she dared speak to Anastasia the day Ana answered my phone pisses me off and makes me wonder why she did it. I've considered that Elena could have been purposely trying to trigger a locked memory is stuck in my head. Although, that doesn't make sense. Why would Elena want Ana to remember everything she knew before the Hyde attack? How can she be so sure the Ana 2.0 would remain quiet and keep our perverted past a secret? She very well knows I'm not one to be fucked with. Especially when it comes to the woman that I'm in love with.
Once Ana was coherent and stable enough to be questioned by the Portland police, I made sure she was brought back to Seattle and admitted to Harborview to continue with her care. Fucking Harborview again. I'm so sick of that fucking place. I was only able to keep everyone at bay for a couple of days before my family and the photographer descended on Anastasia asking her what in the hell she thought she was doing by trying, and succeeding, to lure Leila Williams out of the hole the bitch was burrowed in. Rather, the apartment in Escala she was living in.
Kate went from mother hen to apoplectic in a matter of seconds. Mia kept nervously harping on Ana having a spa day, and Elliot wouldn't shut up calling her Annie Oakley. I think that Taylor, along with the rest of his detail are secretly proud of Ana. Ray is still gruff and unapologetic for giving his unpredictable and too courageous for her own good daughter, a god damn firearm. He told me that his opinion came to fruition. There was really not any room to deny that. For my girl's sake, I remain quiet with all of my opinions about her father. However, I still want to knock him on his ass.
Anastasia is now covered with four CPOs. Sawyer is her primary, with Parson, Reynolds, and Ryan under his command. It's ironic that Parson went from a man that I wanted to kill with my bare hands, to one I trust Ana's life with. She thinks it's crazy that she needs four guys hovering around her since Leila Williams is dead. I have to remind her that Jack Hyde is still on the loose, but Ana is convinced that he's left Seattle and won't be returning. I'm not taking that chance.
I've never seen two unflappable men so disturbed as Reynolds and Parson were the day they found Ana in that hotel room. After she had time to process what she'd been through, as well as the fact that she took a life, Ana had a meltdown, and was seeing her psychiatrist, Dr. Powell, every day.
Hell, I wouldn't be fine if I'd gone through what she did. I hate that Ana had to go through something so horrible, but I'm ecstatic that fucking crazy cunt Leila is dead, even if I'm now concerned her death might draw the unwanted attention of my previous subs or any journalist digging deeper into the life of Leila Williams, and why she was so determined to kill Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele.
The second Portland's police released a statement that a double homicide was committed in Portland's elite hotel, and who was involved, a shit storm poured on us from nearly every new outlet in the Pacific Northwest. Eamon Kavanagh reluctantly had to give the green light on the media that he owns. He told us he couldn't let other news outlets get a scoop over his.
It felt like my entire PR department nearly quit from the stress of the press, and my constant out of control rants. I nearly began to hang my employees from the ceilings of Grey House.
Leila's death has worried me that someone who knows anything about my past, or the true nature of my relationship with Leila, will come out of the woodwork and set off an atomic bomb. My family still looks at me with question marks in their eyes over the knowledge of my "secret women."
Ana knows about Rachel Warren being an ex-sub of mine. To say that conversation went over like a lead balloon is an understatement. I was once again caught in a lie – even if it was a lie of omission – and I know it must be eroding more of Ana's burgeoning trust in me. Rightfully, she's hurt that I didn't tell her beforehand, and that she had to interact with the woman and share very personal information with her. I should have told her. I keep telling myself that hiding my shit from Ana is because I don't want to hurt her, but I also admit that I'm terrified she's going to run from the weight of my baggage. I can't say that I'd blame her if she left me.
Anastasia is sipping on a non-alcoholic Spicy Watermelon Mint Agua Fresca. I took a drink of it and as far as non-alcoholic drinks go, it wasn't too bad. She hasn't had any alcohol since before the attack, so she doesn't remember the difference how the two taste.
"Christian."
Anastasia's voice makes my eyes open. I was nearly asleep. She's still in her sun lounger but she's turned towards me. Her large straw hat is still on, but she's removed her sunglasses. I can smell the chlorine on her skin. Her breasts are nearly falling out of her bikini top and I can't take my eyes off of them.
"Anastasia," I reply.
She narrows her eyes and shifts. The position she was in might have been uncomfortable because of her baby bump. I can hear the ocean. I feel the warmth of the sun. I feel alarmed when I look at her face. She looks serious.
"Don't kid me now, please. I finally feel like talking about the rest of what happened with Leila," she tells me. Her fingers are running up and down the lounger. Ana always looks anxious when she's discussed what happened that day. She appears anxious now.
Ana has talked about what happened in bit and pieces over these last weeks. That isn't uncommon for a person who goes through such a traumatic experience and I knew not to pressure her. The family knows that and haven't pressured her. No one wants to be responsible for her having another meltdown about it.
"Ok. I'm here if you feel ready to share. I'll just listen if that's what you prefer," I tell her softly.
Without warning, Ana asks, "Were all of your submissives brunettes?" She's looking in my eyes, but not in an unkind way. Her eyebrows are drawn together and she looks confused.
My new scruffy bearded face is undoubtedly the color of bone. I can feel my heart hammering against my rib cage and nausea has captured me. The world has just come to a grinding halt. The crippling secret I'd kept from her since the moment I met her is in the spotlight. The one thing that will make her run. Run, and hide from me for the rest of her life. Undoubtedly, I am about to lose the only woman that I have ever, or will ever, love.
A part of me always knew this day would come. It haunted me before Ana lost her memory. I would close my eyes and imagine her finding out and leaving me with a disgusted look on her face. It was another secret I kept from her. If I lie to her now, it will be yet another one. An explosion has just gone off in our lives and blown a hole in the atmosphere. I scoot close to her and take the drink from her hands and place it on the table.
Ana licks her lips and I can see the trepidation in her beautiful eyes.
Not in a million years did I expect her to ask me this. I've cringed every time that I've thought about it after she took me back after our break up, but have always held onto the hope it would remain buried. Jesus Christ. Now I know that I'll definitely lose her. The truth will repulse the living hell out of her and she'll be on the first plane back to Seattle. I am going to lose Ana, my reason for existing. I won't be able to continue living. Not without her. I'll can't go on without my Ana.
Yet, I'm overwhelmed with certainty. I'm certain that I need to tell Ana the truth. As sick as it is, whether I lose her or not, she's already suffering from the fear of the unknown. I refuse to add another brick of pain onto her fragile shoulders.
You have to tell her, Grey.
"Yes. All of my submissives were little brunettes."
I wait for it. And wait. And wait.
Ana is carefully scrutinizing me; she's holding her breath. I watch as she opens and closes her mouth a couple of times before asking the question that I know is coming. She's going to ask me why.
But she remains silent. I don't understand what her silence means.
I'm doing my best to keep the panic I'm feeling from showing all over my face. She can read me like no other.
There's a poignant pause before she replies. Ana swallows and looks down at her hands.
Her question has immobilized me. I know I must look shell-shocked and terrified. I can feel the horror burn behind my eyes. Ana reaches up and gently pushes my unruly hair off of my forehead. Her fingers are soft and cool.
"Why haven't you brought this up sooner?" I ask. Why hasn't she mentioned this already? I'm so fucking scared.
Her cheeks flush, enhancing her flawless, pale skin. She almost looks ashamed, and I can't help myself from reaching out and taking her hands.
Ana clears her throat. "To be honest, I've been afraid to." She suddenly looks guilty. "Not of you, not of you, at all. I've been scared to know. I want to know if it's true, and if it is, what that could possibly mean." She takes shuddering breath. "I've also been processing what Leila told me. I just want to know the truth. I have to stop being afraid of the unknown and take control of my life."
My guilt intensifies. My girl's mind really is a blank canvas and she's struggling with that fact more than she's letting on. She's probably been walking around terrified of finding out more bad shit about me since I told her about my previous sex life and our early relationship.
About me hurting her.
I have to be honest with Anastasia and deal with the consequences, because the delicate woman beside me deserves honesty. She's been looking through a dirty window pane for months, unable to see her past life clearly. The answer to this question isn't about her past, though; Ana didn't know about it before the attack. I was too much of a coward to tell her. I was selfish. I loved her, and was so afraid of losing her. I know that I don't deserve her; I just can't let her go.
"I can understand that. I'm sorry that I've caused you to be afraid to ask me about certain things. I know that I'm responsible for that," I murmur. "I don't want you afraid of anything, and I'm so sorry that you are."
"You haven't made me fear you, Christian. That isn't it at all. I've honestly been afraid of what the truth could possibly mean. If it means anything. Will you tell me?"
I bring one her hands to my mouth and kiss her knuckles. Her eyes are shining with sincerity, while mine are probably shining from my fear. But I'll tell her the truth, no matter what it could cost me. "Yes, I will. I promise."
She doesn't address what I've said. Her eyes widen and she hesitates. She very subtly tilts her head to one side. "Leila told me all of the women were brunettes. The moment I saw her the first thing I noticed was our resemblance."
I nod, momentarily unsure of how best to reply. I've no idea if she's waiting for me to speak or she's gathering her thoughts so she can continue. We continue to stare at one another and I've lost the read on her expression. Her hands are now grasping mine tighter. She says nothing.
"May I ask what Leila told you?" I can barely ask the question. My voice is strained.
"She told me that all of your submissives looked like me, and like her. She said you have a type and they're petite brunette women. That we all look the same." Ana's voice is barely audible over the waves of the clear ocean.
She sounds like she's telling a secret. She looks both hurt and hopeful. Hopeful that I'm going to deny what Leila told her.
Fuck, I wish that I could.
"First off, Ana, you are nothing like those women. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," I tell her.
"But we're all petite women with brunette hair? Do you only like women who look like that?" Her voice is tremulous and she's nearly got a death grip on my hands.
There's a fine line walking between wanting answers and wanting to remain comfortably oblivious.
"Yes."
It's breaking the heart Ana gave me.
She blinks, and finally, asks the question, the one that could possibly end my existence.
"Why? she whispers.
The silence is insurmountable and I'm not so sure that I'm breathing. My eyes dart around us for divine intervention, but I have no such luck. Ana's eyes are on me. I look back at her.
"Why were they all little brunette women?" I ask, even though I know what she meant. I'm stalling. Be a fucking man and finally tell her the god damn truth.
"Yes." She looks annoyed and sounds impatient.
"Anastasia, I swear that I'm going to be completely honest with you. Do you believe that?"
Fuck, it feels like her hand is already on the door. Surprising me, she answers without hesitation.
"Of course."
I pull one of my hands from her to mechanically run it through my hair. I must not look away. I have to say this while looking her directly into her eyes. Faith and trust. Trust and faith.
"There's no reason for me to repeat the story of the crack whore—"
"Christian, I've told you not to call your birth mother that," Ana breaks in. "You don't know what she went through."
"I sure as fuck know what I went through," I harshly reply. Too harshly.
Ana shakes her head but doesn't speak. She's looking at me expectantly.
"I apologize for speaking that way. It wasn't directed at you. This is very uncomfortable and difficult to say, so please be patient with me for a minute."
I shut up to gather my wits that are now floating in the Indian Ocean.
"You've seen the picture of my birth mother, I know. Do you remember what she looked like?"
Anastasia looks at me thoughtfully and I see the wheels in her mind begin to roll. One flutter of her long eyelashes is all it takes for me to watch her eyes light up from solving the puzzle. But she still doesn't understand what the puzzle means.
"She was a brunette. Small, delicate, almost waif-like. Beautiful," she answers.
I don't recognize disgust in her voice. Yet.
"She was a brunette." I refuse to call the crack whore beautiful. "It's not a secret that I feel tremendous anger whenever I think of her and what she allowed to happen to me. You, and our relationship, have tempered a lot of that anger, but it's still there. It probably always will be. Before I tell you anything further, please know I'm not using my feelings for the crack whore as an excuse, because I'm not. I'm honestly telling you the reason behind my actions."
We're holding hands again, I'm not sure who took whose hand, but I'm grateful. I'm hanging on to Ana for dear life.
Fuck. Confiding my sickest shit to anyone other than John feels strange, and I'm so afraid of what she's going to think of me.
"Ana." I pause, grasping for the right words. I can even hear the pain in my voice
Her eyes widen and she gasps. "Your submissives all looked like your birth mom, didn't they? That's why you. . ." Ana's epiphany trails off after it blows my mind.
Either I'm transparent and predictable as sin, or she has the instincts of, well, fuck if I know what she has instincts like. I know she's intelligent, but shit, if my fucked-up life and psyche are that easy to figure out, why in the fuck do I keep John Flynn dressed in custom-made suits?
Anastasia's eyes grow even larger and she's gaping at me. I inhale half of the oxygen around us and swallow. My world is slowly stopping, but I press on. I have to tell her the truth.
I can't let her guess or come to a false assumption.
"I couldn't punish her. I found little brunettes to beat." I may have only said two sentences, but it felt like I had just told Ana the entire story of my life.
Again. I'm staring straight at her, but don't see her face. I only see the expression of pain and sudden panic crossing it.
"You weren't only whipping those women, Christian," Ana whispers. "You were fucking them." She pulls her hands from mine and places them on her forehead. "BDSM. ... Bondage and Discipline. Domination and Submission. . . Sadism and Masochism. . . You enjoyed hurting them?" She sounds incredulous.
I want to grab her and hold her so tightly she won't be able to run. I can see her panicking. I heard the disappointment in her voice. Ana's figured it out.
She's going to run.
"Yes, I enjoyed it," I murmur, looking down at my hands. "The little brown-haired girls. I like to whip them because I'm a sadist."
Ana's pulled her hands away and she's shaking her head like she's trying to rid her mind of something awful. Hell, she probably is. Her arms are now limp and in her lap.
"I read all about BDSM after you came clean about our past. You said you weren't a sadist." She almost sounds angry.
I hang my head, and my aviators that I'd pushed up on my head fall off. Reaching out to grab Ana's hands, my knee hits the small table between us and it causes her drink to fall off. The glass shatters.
The glass shatters. My heart is shattering. I'm afraid that Anastasia's is, too
I've never seen her this pale as she is right now. She's still, like a statue and staring at me with a blank expression. Her eyes are surveying mine, trying to break them so she can see inside my mind to find the entire truth.
I'm mortified. I have never felt this way in my entire life. I've never felt this exposed or dissected as I do right now – not even with John. My body shifts. I'm squirming.
"You said you were a Dominant. You explained what being a Dominant was." Her voice breaks. "I remember every word you said. You denied being a sadist. I asked, and you said no, that you were a Dominant." She sounds so desolate.
Ana makes a move to stand. I have to gently stop her since the ground between us is littered by the broken glass of her drink. She sits back down and puts her head in her hands. Her long, wet hair falls like a curtain around her face.
"I should have asked you. God, why didn't I ask you?" She's still whispering.
I'm not sure what she's talking about and I'm afraid to ask. I know that I have to. "Ask me what?"
"If you got off hurting women. Had I asked and you'd have told me the truth then, I'd know you really don't enjoy what we do. I wouldn't believe I was enough. Once you told me about our early relationship, I immediately doubted that I could keep you satisfied." Her words are hoarse. "I doubted keeping your interest. Now I know I was right, and if I'd only asked you, I'd have known months ago."
I frown at her. "Hey, look at me," I tell her. She pushes her hair back and I can smell her Jasmine shampoo. Tears are running down her cheeks and she looks so sad. It's oddly stirring.
"Please, listen, baby. I don't just enjoy being with you, being with you completes me. You're everything that I need and then some," I confess. 'I'm completely satisfied with you, baby. You're more than enough. Please believe me," I beg.
"How do I believe I can satisfy a man who'd rather have sex where he gets off hurting women? I don't understand how I'm what you need or how it's possible that our boring sex life satisfies you. Oh, God. I convinced myself it was all kinky sex, even though I knew all of that punishment and pain shit was so much more than kinky sex."
"Whoa, Ana. What we do in bed isn't fucking boring shit, it's mind-blowing. You satisfy my every need – and not just sexually. Being with you, and losing you after I hurt you made me see my world in an entirely different light. I wanted you, Ana. I knew I could only have you if I walked away from that part of my life; I knew I had to change, and I wanted to change. You are who I want and who I need. All of the trappings of my old life are all that – old. Gone. You did that. It's true. Every word I've said is the truth."
"How does someone who enjoys inflicting pain during sex suddenly stop wanting to hurt the one they're with?"
"I can't speak for anyone else, but I stopped because you didn't want any part of BDSM. You hated it, but sacrificed yourself to please me – and then I hurt you. I would never ask you to do that again, Ana," I reply. I'd rather chew off my own hands that hurt you again. It took you walking out of me to make me realize that I had to stop that BDSM bullshit. You cured me."
Ana's brows shoot up. "I cured you?" she asks cautiously, sounding like she thinks that's bullshit.
"Yes."
"How? You're telling me that I took away your urge to whip and fuck brunette women who look your birth mother?" Her voice is loud, but all I can hear is her emotion. Her face is almost as disgusted as I imagined it to be.
Fuck, that does sound sick.
I look down at my bare feet and wonder how this idyllic day went to shit. "You leaving me took the urge away. I no longer want to beat and fuck women who remind me of the crack whore."
I've never felt such shame.
Anastasia gasps again, but I dare not look at her.
"I can't believe this. I don't understand how…" Her words slow and trail off.
"How someone could fuck a woman who looked like their birth mother? It's sick, I know. I know I'm sick," I say, standing. I begin to pace the around the sun loungers. "This isn't an excuse. For my entire life, I always wanted her to feel the pain she allowed me to feel. I wanted her to know the anger and hatred she left me with. I found that I could let some of that anger out by beating women who looked like her."
I'm near tears from the rising panic I'm beginning to feel.
Ana's staring into space. I can feel her slipping away.
"I know it's sick. Hell, it's beyond sick. I never imagined that I was fucking her, though. I didn't. . . It was the BDSM scene. Everything became fuzzy and crossed lines. I was too fucked in the head to understand why I had to have a woman who resembled the crack whore to beat, and then I'd fuck her. John explained it. He tried to tell me how my brain worked. Fuck, I don't know what I'm saying, Ana. I don't know how to make anyone understand what's wrong with me. Why I did such sick shit. I'm just fucked up and not normal. She made me this way. She made me believe that I had to—"
Anastasia's head snaps towards. She looks confused. Stands and walks in front of me. The yellow towel that had been wrapped around her waist has fallen off.
"Your birth mother made you believe you had to do what? She died when you were four, Christian. How does a dead woman make you believe you have to do anything? You aren't making any sense."
My pacing comes to a complete halt. Not because she's standing in front of me, but because of what I've realized I've just said. The crack whore fucked me up, but didn't suggest that I only have subs who resembled her.
No.
That was Elena Lincoln. She made me believe that, and I just nearly told Ana.
Mother fucker.
Elena said that my first sub should be a little brown-haired girl. She told me if I wanted to learn how to best punish a sub, I should draw upon the hatred I have for the crack whore, and a good way to do that was to "practice" on the petite brunette girl she introduced me to – who resembled my birth mother.
Elena convinced me that what spurred me on in life is the anger I felt for the woman who brought me into this world, and that having any positive or caring feelings for people, would prevent me from succeeding. She pounded all of that into my head, always reminding me that love is for others, never for me. She said it was all true because I had loved my birth mother, and she allowed me to be abused, because she didn't love me.
Elena repeatedly told me that maintaining strict control of my life was the only way that I could survive in this world, and the only way I could enjoy life was to live one that revolved around BDSM. It couldn't just come from the sex. I had to be a Dominant in all aspects of my world. It was the only way for a person like me. Someone out of control, with the need to punish others, and the best way to maintain control, channel my frustration, and anger was punishing women who looked like my birth mother.
Son of a bitch.
Although I believe I am a natural born Dominant, one who runs his company as one – distant, hard, and in complete control. I'm now able to step out of that mindset in my personal life, well, except when it comes to protecting Ana and my family. When it comes to my second chance at life and close relationships with my family and Ana, the mindset Elena drilled in my head is gone. And it's gone because of Anastasia.
What might have been if Elena Lincoln had seduced me in a loving way? How would I have lived had she taught me how to be affectionate in ways that bypassed my issues of being touched? Would I have spent years aloof and a complete bastard had Elena "rewarded" me with a gold fucking star instead of letting me fuck her ass?
I feel every bone in my body slump from the realization that I'll never know.
Ana has taken my hands and is saying my name. It takes a moment to reorient myself to the present and the beautiful woman dressed in a blue bikini before me.
I slowly shake my head. "Where did you go? You completely zoned out," she utters, with an alarmed tone in her voice.
"I got lost in my thoughts. I went to a—"
"Bad place?" Ana interjects.
"Yeah, a very bad place," I admit.
She cocks her head to the side and has a small smile on her face.
"I'm sorry, I know it must be painful. I can't imagine. I'd do anything to remove those memories from your mind. You do know that, Christian? Right?"
I stare at her wide blue eyes that are now brimming with tears. I yank her into my arms roughly and bury my face in her hair.
"I know, baby. That's one thing I'll never doubt. I love you, Anastasia. So much. More than I imagined a person could ever love anyone, and I'm so sorry," I whisper into her ear. "I'm sorry for what I've done and lying to you about being a Dominant. I'm just so sorry."
Ana squeezes me hard and kisses the base of my neck.
"Christian you aren't sick and twisted. I've told you that a million times and I'll never stop telling you. You're a good man, a really good man. One who loves me, and I still don't exactly know why."
I untangle myself from her and move so I can look down at her face. I use my index finger to tilt her chin upward.
"Anastasia, I love you because you are everything that is pure and good. You are, and have been since we met, the most perfect human being I've ever known," I reply. "I can't find the words to articulate how wonderful you are."
"I love you, too. Unconditionally, Christian. I don't understand why you did what you did, the reasoning is beyond me, but it was also before me. I can't hold that against you, even if I don't understand. But with unconditional love, a person loves you in spite of your faults and actions," she tells me, her tone is firm. "I love you that way, Christian. I honestly love you unconditionally."
Ana uses the backs of her hands to wipe away the tears that have covered her cheeks and chin. "Do you ever have the urge to punish me now?" she asks in a small whisper.
"God, no! Ana, I said I'd rather lose a limb due to my own doing than hurt you. The very thought is nauseating. I want to cherish and love you forever. I only want to protect you and give you the world." I emphatically answer her. "And you are nothing like those other women, and you're sure as hell nothing like my birth mother. Please say you believe me."
My stomach flips and then flops. Ana is studying me, but I can tell she doesn't doubt my words.
"I believe you. I know that you love me and will do everything you can to protect me. After all, I have four huge men surrounding me everywhere that I go," she tells me, a grin spreading across her lovely face.
She stands on her tiptoes and chastely kisses my lips. I find myself smiling at her in return. The tension and heavy sense of doom have left and are no longer a bubble covering us.
"Is there anything else you'd like to know? Do you want to discuss this further?"
Ana's expression softens. Her eyes are shining brightly.
"No. I'd rather put it behind us. Now that you've told me what I needed to know, and then some," she says wryly.
"I don't want you upset. Are you sure you're fine?" I ask her.
She nods. "I am. We can't change the past. I know that you love me, Christian, and I hope that you know how much I love you. You've said the life you led is gone, and I believe you. Let's just close the door on it. Okay?"
I almost fall at her feet.
Instead, I grab, and kiss her like it's the last time that I will. Once the kiss is broken, Anastasia tells me that she's tired and goes inside to take a nap. I have a million things on my mind and wonder how I got so lucky by having a woman like Ana in my life. I know that I don't deserve her. I also know that I'll never be able to let her go
I decide to take a swim and dive into the swimming pool. When I emerge, I hear my cell phone buzzing. I make my way to it quickly. Ana warned me to keep in the safe in the bedroom. I do, but sometimes bring it out to check on things at GEH. This time, I forgot to lock it back up. She'll kill me if she sees it
I inwardly groan when I see the name on the display screen, and contemplate letting it go to voicemail before thinking better of it.
"This better be good, Elliot," I mutter.
"Hello to you, too, baby bro. Why the foul mood? Didn't they put a pretty little umbrella in your Piña colada?" He laughs.
"Fuck off." I can't help myself.
He laughs harder. "I forgot. You're a rich boy who only drinks pussy wine."
I sigh into the phone. I love my brother dearly, but he could annoy paint off of a wall.
"Rich boy? Is that a derogatory comment? Because if so, you're insulting yourself, too, rich boy."
I do my best to sound gruff and irritated, although I find myself smiling.
"Whatever. How's the vacation going? How's Ana?" Now he sounds like the serious and concerned Elliot I know he is.
"Excellent. Ana's good. She hasn't had a blackout, her hands doing better, and her baby bump is getting bigger by the day."
"Good. I'm glad to hear it. Kate's been bitching about you dragging her off to the equator the entire time you've been gone. If I didn't love her so much, I'd kill her and bury her annoying ass under one of the houses I'm building."
I imagine Kate in all of her tall and blonde bitchiness driving my brother crazy and burst into laughter.
"Sorry to hear that, El. Did you call to tell me you've got a bitchy woman on your hands? I assure you I already know that."
"Shut the fuck up," he replies, "Have you done it yet?"
I'm still in the pool, but my arms are out so I can talk to this fool.
"Elliot, shut up. I hope Kate isn't anywhere near you," I snap in a low voice.
"So, you haven't?"
"No, I haven't, why are you really calling? What time is it there?"
"Just being curious, bro."
"Curiosity killed the cat. You didn't answer my question. Why are you calling? What's going on?" I ask.
He hasn't called me the entire time we've been away
He doesn't immediately answer and I tense up. I hear him exhale loudly.
"Elena's going on," he replies. His tone is hard and cold.
When I wrote Chapter 19 it was very long. I decided to cut it in half. I'm about to also post Chapter 20.