Chapter 17

Ana

I look around the unfamiliar space I'm in, feeling my eyes widen and my shoulders tense. It's objectively well-designed, I can't deny that. It's very sleek, modern… big. Maybe a little cold. But it shouldn't be, the floor to ceiling windows sure add some warmth to the room, at least in the form of sunlight.

And this is just an editor's office?

November 1st is upon us, and I am standing as an employee within Grey House.

I feel similarly to the first time I visited Christian's parents' home; and by that, I mean that I feel like I'm not supposed to touch anything, least of all the complex piece of machinery that I believe is supposed to be my computer. Where did they get it from, NASA? I'm just editing books, not writing code to get us to Mars.

Maybe this is actually Christian's office and they sent me to the wrong room. "Wait, are you here as the subordinate or the girlfriend today?" Maybe it's hard for them to remember. But that thought is quickly dispeled as Maya bursts in squealing. "Eeeee! Oh my God, are you seeing this? Eat your heart out, Leonardo DiCaprio, I'm the king of the world! Are you seeing this view? Did you look?"

"Oh, yep. Seattle. Nice," I murmur, setting my bag and the box of paraphernalia from my old office gingerly on the desk. Expensive. Maybe hand-carved.

"Oh, come on, aren't you of all people thrilled? Just steps away from your beloved," she says in a saccharine tone.

Oh, my megalomaniac beloved who decided against all reason and smart business that this was necessary. "I'm… not quite sure what I feel. Or how to use this computer."

She sighs and closes the office door, leaning against it with her arms folded and looking me squarely in the eye. "Ana, if you had no idea who Christian was, and he was just some rando who bought the company, would you be feeling this weird about moving into their building?"

Moot point. He wouldn't have done it. "I don't know. Honestly, the surroundings don't really scream… bookish to me."

"Okay, whatever, that aside. You know you haven't done anything wrong, right? Has it at least begun to sink in?"

I clear my throat and very slowly sit on the luxury chair behind my luxury desk. "Yes, My, I know. I swear. It's really not that." It's kind of not that. "This is just a little bit of a lot, that's all. I'll adjust. What's your office like?"

"Well, yours is bigger, but hey, I've graduated from a cubicle to an actual room! So, I'm living the dream. And I guess we can't all get the perks from being the boss's roommate."

I smirk and shake my head. "Which is it, I'm getting special treatment, or I shouldn't feel weird?"

She shrugs. "Both. You'd be here either way, killing it at your job as usual. But he also loves you. The guy's only human. I'm sure he wants his lady to have the best."

That he does… "Okay, let's get to work before they move us back. We have to prove we're worth something around here." And I'd like to think about something else for a while.

Maya gives me a salute and vacates my expansive office. I move my bag to start unpacking what I'll need for the day and find a folded piece of paper just underneath. I open it up and unfold it, a smile tugging at my lips at the familiar handwriting.

My Ana,

Would you do me the honor of having lunch with me somewhere around the building (precisely, my office) on this most wonderful day? I love you.

Your Christian

I grin all the way now, shaking my head. His reference to something he's been telling me over and over again lately doesn't escape my notice. "Who cares if I'm your boss and your boyfriend? They're just labels. I'm your Christian, you're my Ana. It's as simple as that." And then there's usually a kiss. And now my knees are buckling…

Lunch later, then, my love. I'll have to email him. Or send a courier pigeon to the top floor.

I set the note aside and sigh, closing my eyes for a moment and trying to pinpoint the source of my lingering discomfort. After my preliminary search produces no results, I decide that an attempt to make this room feel something like mine might be helpful. I take the prints I got from Etsy of imagined cover art for my favorite novels out of the box and hang them on the wall opposite where I sit. Jane Eyre, Tess of the d'Urbervilles, and Robin Hood. I smile as I recall a young boy I used to know with aspirations of wealth redistribution. I thought of him whenever I revisited that book, so no wonder it was a favorite.

My reminiscence of days of yore is interrupted by the ringing phone, which it takes me a moment to realize is indeed the ringing phone and not some gentle spa music. Technology. "Anastasia Steele, editor, speaking."

"Ana! God, it's been ages."

I smile. Officially, I don't have favorite authors, but unofficially, Elise Hill is my favorite. "Elise. Prompt as always. Is now still a good time to talk?"

"Absolutely!"

"Wonderful. Now, I'm just about through the first ten chapters of your—"

"Wait, Ana, before we get into that, I just wanted to ask… uh, I'm not to expect any changes in my team at SIP, am I? You would tell me?"

I blink in confusion. "Changes? Like how?"

"Well… I did receive the letter that SIP is under new ownership. And I had the pleasure of signing a copy for Grace Trevelyan-Grey… and I live in this city and I know who Christian Grey and I admit I do like the gossip rags a bit too much…" I hold my breath as I realize the implication she's getting at. "Please say you're not leaving the company, Ana. I'll sign a hundred books for your boyfriend's family. We've been at this for years now and no one else—"

"Elise, no, I'm not going anywhere. My employment here predated any association with our new owners and I don't report to him."

She sighs loudly. "Oh, thank goodness. You're such a gem, Ana, I couldn't imagine starting all over. I feel like no one sees the soul of my work like you do. It would be like handing over my child to a stranger."

"Your children are safe with me." I'm struck at how relieved she sounds. Of course, if I left my job, I would miss my authors, but I never really thought it would have much of an impact on them. I know that I'm passionate about my job, and I'm sure it logically follows that that would translate into me being good at it, but this is a surprise. A nice one…

Everyone who has been telling me that my merit speaks for itself and I deserve to be here has been close to me. Christian, Maya, Marty, Kate. My therapist, too, but I think she's kind of supposed to build me up. Hearing it from a third party who I didn't know cared one way or the other about me hits different, and I feel it. I feel myself sit up a little straighter in my fancy chair.

"So, about those first ten chapters then?"

I flex my wrists as I wrap up another one of Elise's chapters. Our conversation motivated me to make more progress and my fingers have been flying across the keyboard. As I went, I even noticed how much more ergonomic this desk setup is compared to our old building. Nice touch. One afternoon at work, and I'm starting to see myself fit here. At least in this one room. And maybe more so once I get a plant.

I stand up for the first time in hours, just now noticing the signals my bladder has been sending me for who knows how long. I realize that I never really took the time to familiarize myself with the rest of our new wing and go off in search of the ladies' room, so that seems like a quest to take before taking lunch.

Around a few corners, I finally find it. I idly appreciate that it's empty and I don't have to deal with anyone right now. I'm not sure how everyone is feeling now that we're actually here, and though the cold shoulders have been less pronounced since the audits that Ros did, I feel they're just more subtle now. Not gone. I'm still an other.

"Hey!" I'm just zipping up my pants when I hear the voice of one of our editorial assistants, and for a moment I almost think she's talking to me through the stall.

"Hey, girl." Nope, she's talking to one of the graphic designers. I should have known. Females don't engage me in much conversation around here anymore. I feel an unfamiliar pang of annoyance at this. Normally, the feeling is more… guilty. Hmm.

"So… this is interesting."

One of them snorts. "Yeah. She's really moving up in the world, huh?"

"She never struck me as a social climber before, but judging by the view from her office… I guess sleeping with the boss just wasn't an option before he looked like that?"

My stomach drops as I realize what they're talking about. Jesus Christ. The snide looks, the way they leave the break room when I enter, sure, I've seen that, but I've never been a witness to the vitriol this intimately. I feel the urge to bolt. "She's pretty, but I really don't get it. He could be dating supermodels. Why her? Compared to him, she has nothing."

The words I've thought many times myself land very differently when I hear them out of someone else's, and my feelings shift in an unexpected direction. A version of me not so long ago might be feeling like my tail was between my legs, but that's not the feeling stirring in me now. "Yeah, I agree, it just doesn't add up. The whole thing just feels—"

Before I can consciously understand what is possessing me to do this, I swing the stall door open. They both spin around, their eyes widening in tandem like cartoon characters. I pin them both with a stare and feel my arms folding across my chest. "This is ridiculous," I hiss. I'm almost shocked by my own tone. Calm, steady, but assertive. "We are at work. And though you've clearly created this narrative in your head that that means nothing to me, it does. I'm sorry that you can't get over the fact that I'm with someone you think is so above me, but I've known that I wanted to work in publishing since I was thirteen, and that's what I did. Do you know what else I did? I fell in love. I didn't plan it, I didn't know it would be so fucking complicated, and I didn't think those two would ever mix. And it would be so much easier if they hadn't, but they did, and I'm sorry that the man who loves me is also a control freak and can do shit like this. I didn't plan that, either. Honestly, who the fuck would choose this? Their coworkers degrading and demeaning them the way you just did to me, so casually?"

"A-Ana, I—" One of them tries to interject, but I'm on a roll.

"If I'm everything you say, I could walk upstairs right now and ask him to fire you. And he would. He probably wouldn't even ask questions, you'd be gone by the time I finish lunch. Christian loves me. He loves me. And he goes to ridiculous extremes with it, because as I know you've noticed, his life is ridiculously extreme. But I'm not going to do that. I don't care what you think of me anymore. I'm not trying to manifest easy street for myself. I'm not masterminding some scheme to get me all the way to the top. I'm just trying to do my job. My job description does not include sitting by and accepting your completely unfounded assumptions about me. So, maybe you should think about what yours is. And please, stop interfering in how I'm able to do mine."

They're both white as ghosts, reaching their arms out to me beseechingly. I wonder if they even know they're doing that. "Ana, I-I swear, we just—"

"Think what you want. I can't stop you. But you don't know me, and you don't know him. And you must have better things to do than pretend that you do." Before they can answer, I turn and leave.

My legs somehow carry me all the way back to my office, and all the adrenaline and bravado leaves me just as I close the door behind me. I slide to the floor, feeling my heartrate and breathing spike. Jesus, I didn't even wash my hands. That was… so not me. And yet, I meant everything I said. Including the part where I really don't care what they think anymore.

The realization settles around me like confetti.

This is so juvenile and trivial. I'm just the scapegoat for their dissatisfaction in their own lives. And I can't control anyone's thoughts or actions, but I sure can control mine and my reactions. Fuck it. I'm doing nothing wrong. Deep down, I know that. New building, new start.

I get up a little unsteadily, opening one of my desk drawers and pulling out my hand sanitizer. I'm not worried about them anymore, sure, but I also don't need to return to the bathroom so soon after my performance. A rush of anxiety hits me as my office door flings open, but it all melts away when I see who's gracing the doorway. "I thought we had a lunch date," he says dubiously.

I smile. "I'm sorry. I got caught up in something." I was defending my honor, and yours, but you're a little too fire-happy, so you don't need to know that.

"Are you saying you're too busy for me, Miss Steele?" he says, eying me playfully and taking a few steps forward.

I take a few around the side of my desk, naturally drawn to him. "Never, Mr. Grey. But are you speaking as my superior or my lover?"

He stops in front of me and tilts my chin up. "I am nothing if not your lover, Miss Steele. First and foremost." He kisses me softly and I practically melt in his arms. "I wanted to get you flowers, but… I thought you would have words about that," he mutters.

"Flowers for what?" I giggle.

"To commemorate the day that another facet of our lives intertwines. I'm counting the ways and I'd like to mark every one."

Is he even real? "Well, that was a very flowery sentiment, Mr. Grey. I don't think I could possibly be in need of any more."

"And I could never give you enough." He kisses me again, just for good measure. "Now, I believe I am here to take my girlfriend away from her place of work, which is so conveniently located near mine, to have a meal with me. Is she still agreeable?"

"She is more than agreeable."

"Well, I thought she might have fled the scene when she didn't show up." He smiles jokingly, but there is an undercurrent of something real in his tone.

"Where else would I go? I have a date." Part of me wonders how serious he is when he makes vague references that I might not want to be with him. I mean, if you ask anyone, I'm sure they'd say that I'm the one whose days are numbered. It's not lost on me that I'm in the most golden time of my life right now. The era of Christian.

He takes my hand. "Well, then, without further ado."

We walk through the office hand-in-hand, still chatting quietly to each other. I look up across the room and see the two from the bathroom. They give me a brief look, then drop their eyes as soon as I make eye contact. I see their cheeks burning scarlet, and it reminds me of me. Before, anyway. I can feel a change. The air in the room feels different to me. Lighter, calmer… more free. Or maybe that's just me.

Look at me, Mom. I'm getting my voice back.

"What are you thinking about?" Christian asks as we step into the elevator.

"Oh... just how good I feel like this move was for me."

He smiles in a way that seems almost shy, tugging at my heart like a ripcord. "Really?"

"Really." I raise his hand still holding mine and kiss his knuckles. "This is good. New building, new start. Same us."

"Same us," he agrees. And I actually believe it.

A/N: Thank you so much for the warm welcome back! I'm honored! I hope you enjoy this next installment. xo