Chapters of Trust
by
Ava LeBeau
Five
Christian tossed his keys onto the sleek marble countertop of the console table by the door and ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of the evening's events still lingering in his mind as he entered the penthouse.
He moved further into the living room and spotted Leila lounging on the sofa, her expression a mix of annoyance and impatience. She was dressed in a tight-fitting dress that left little to the imagination, but Christian barely registered it.
"Where have you been, Christian?" she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "I thought we had plans tonight."
Grey leaned against the wall, arms crossed casually as he regarded her with an air of indifference. "Plans? I don't recall making any commitments to you," he replied coolly, his tone dripping with condescension. "Besides, I had more important matters to attend to."
Leila's eyes narrowed as she shifted in her seat. "More important than me?"
Christian shrugged nonchalantly. "Let's not kid ourselves. You know how this works." His gaze flicked over her outfit again, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You could've chosen something a bit more… appealing for tonight, Leila."
Her cheeks flushed with irritation as she stood up, hands on her hips. "What's wrong with my outfit? It's sexy."
"In my book, sexy doesn't mean desperate, Leila," he shot back dismissively, pushing himself off the wall and striding toward her with an air of dominance that filled the room. "You want my attention? Then show me something worth looking at."
Leila opened her mouth to protest but quickly closed it when she saw that look in his eyes—part challenge, part command. Christian was nothing if not assertive; yes, she knew he thrived on control and power.
"Honestly," he continued, stepping closer until there was barely any space between them, "if you want to keep me interested, you really need to step up your game." His voice dropped to a low murmur as he leaned in slightly, invading her personal space. "I'm not here to entertain your insecurities."
She swallowed hard but held her ground, trying to bury her vulnerability beneath layers of bravado. "And what exactly do you want me to do?"
Christian studied Leila for a moment, his expression a mix of amusement and boredom. "Honestly, Leila, I could have anyone I want. You know that, right?" He stepped back slightly, crossing his arms again as he regarded her with an air of superiority. "You're cute and all," he said, "but you're not terribly important to me."
Her frustration bubbled to the surface. "What do you want from me then? I thought we had something special."
He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Special? This is just a casual arrangement. You should know by now that I don't do 'special'.'" His gaze hardened as he continued, "I'm not looking for a relationship, Leila; I'm looking for… well, let's just say I have needs."
Leila's face fell slightly at his words, but she quickly masked it with defiance. "So what? You think you can just use me whenever you want and then toss me aside?"
"Use you?" Christian shrugged nonchalantly, his face cold and aloof. "I'm not using you, Leila; I'm giving you an opportunity to be part of my world and meet my needs whenever I want you to. But if you can't keep up or hold my interest…" He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air, tilting his head ever so slightly for mere effect.
She opened her mouth to argue but found herself at a loss for words. The truth was undeniable—he was right about one thing: she was boring him.
"Look," Christian said dismissively. "Why don't we skip the theatrics? I'm fuckin' serious, if you're not going to bring anything exciting to the table tonight, I don't think we should be seeing each other anymore."
Leila's eyes widened in disbelief. "What? You can't be serious."
"I am," he replied icily, turning away from her. Whipping out his phone, he pressed speed dial without even glancing back at her. "Taylor," he said. "Can you please call a cab for Ms. Williams? She's done for the night."
"Right away, sir," Taylor responded promptly.
Christian ended the call and turned back to Leila with a bored look on his face, his eyes, however, were dark and dangerous now. "You'll be out of here shortly." He sauntered into the kitchen to pour himself some iced water. Chugging down several large gulps, he leaned casually against the counter, exuding confidence as if this were all just another mundane task.
Leila just stood there in the middle of the living room, her heart racing with a mix of anger and humiliation. "You can't just send me away like this, Christian!" she protested, her voice rising slightly. "I deserve better than to be treated like some disposable plaything."
Christian regarded her with an arched eyebrow, his expression unyielding. "You're right; you do deserve better. But you're not giving me anything worth keeping around." He gave a half-shrug and stepped closer again, invading her space once more, his presence overwhelming, his voice low now. "This isn't a charity case, Leila. I don't have time nor patience for drama or your insecurities."
"You're really serious about this…," she stared at him in disbelief, reaching out for his hand but before she could make contact, Christian abruptly jerked his arm back, the movement sharp and dismissive. His palm turned slightly as if to create an invisible barrier between them, leaving her fingers suspended in the air, caught off guard.
"Yes, I am," he said through gritted teeth, his stormy gray eyes narrowing slightly as he maintained his distance. "It's fucking over."
Leila took a step back, trying to regain her composure. "So that's it? You just use me for sex… and then you cast me aside when I'm no longer entertaining… even though I was down for it… no matter how fuckin' depraved your fantasies were?"
A muscle in his jaw twitched as he clenched it, her remark clearly striking a nerve and provoking him more than he cared to admit.
"Let's be clear," Christian said, his tone dropping to a low growl that sent shivers down her spine, and not in a good way. "I don't need entertainment; I need satisfaction. And right now, you're not cutting it." He paused, allowing his words to sink in before continuing, "If you can't meet my needs—and that's why you're here—then it's best we part ways."
Just then, Taylor appeared at the door, a professional demeanor masking any hint of judgment as he glanced between them. "The cab is on its way, sir," he announced.
"Good," Christian replied without looking back at Leila. He turned slightly toward Taylor and added dismissively, "Make sure she gets out of here."
Then he faced Leila again, who was visibly struggling to hold back tears of frustration and hurt. "You should take this time to think about what you really want," he said condescendingly. "Because if it's me, you'll need to step up your game."
Leila opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss again. The reality of the situation hit her hard—she had been drawn into his world thinking she could change him or at least hold his interest longer than others had.
"Don't make this harder than it needs to be," Christian continued, his voice firm yet dismissive. "You know it's just the way I am."
Leila's eyes widened in disbelief as she shot a glare at Christian. "You'll regret this, Christian."
He smirked again, clearly unfazed by her protests. "Regret? Not likely." With that final word hanging in the air, he turned away from her and strode into his office, leaving Leila standing there feeling small and defeated.
Her voice was laced with defiance as she called after him. "You think you can just treat me like this? You're a real piece of shit, Christian!"
But Christian only slammed the door behind him, the resounding thud echoing through the penthouse like a final nail in the coffin of their encounter. Inside, he inhaled deeply, a tumultuous mix of relief and irritation washing over him. Undoing the top buttons of his shirt, he leaned against his desk, checking his phone for messages—anything to distract from the tension coiling within him. This was not how he had envisioned his evening.
Boredom settled in as he scrolled through emails, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration; nothing piqued his interest.
Leila's muffled protests still reached him from the other side of the door. "You think you're so hot? Newsflash, asshole: you're not that special! I've had better, and you'll be begging for me back before long. I'm not some girl who will just fade into the background."
Christian let out a husky laugh, scanning his notifications with feigned indifference before tossing his phone onto the desk.
He understood the game all too well; he had played it countless times. Women like Leila were irresistibly drawn to him, yet they rarely grasped what he truly desired—or more accurately, what he didn't want. Leaning back in his chair, he ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly, savoring the intoxicating thrill of power that surged within him. He held all the cards in this situation.
With a deliberate shift, Christian turned his attention back to work, pushing Leila from his mind and focusing on the pressing matters at hand.
Outside, Taylor was left to manage the fallout as Leila's tirade continued, her muffled protests seeping through the closed door. Her voice was a volatile mix of anger and desperation, prompting Christian to roll his eyes at her futile attempts to reason with Taylor.
"Please, just let me talk to him, Taylor!" Leila insisted, her voice rising in pitch.
"Look, Ms. Williams," Taylor replied, calm yet firm, "it's best if you leave. He's made his decision."
Christian picked up his phone again, skimming through his contacts until he found Lily's name. Unlike Leila, she was reliable—eager to please and adept at understanding his deepest desires without the unnecessary drama that often accompanied them. He pressed the call button and waited, the ringing punctuated by Leila's escalating shouts outside. "You can't just throw me away like this, Christian. I'm not done yet!"
"Trust me," Taylor interjected, her voice low and steady. "It's for the best."
Christian chuckled softly under his breath while Lily finally answered. "Hey, Christian," she purred on the other end.
"Lily," he said coolly, leaning back in his chair. "I want you tonight."
"A booty call, hun?" she replied, amusement lacing her tone. "What happened to your little distraction?"
He glanced toward the door as Leila's voice faded into the background. "Not worth my time anymore," he said dismissively. "I need someone who knows what I want without all the noise. Translate that however you wish."
"I'll be there in thirty, babes," Lily responded smoothly.
"Good." He hung up and set his phone on the desk, a wave of anticipation washing over him. The earlier tension still lingered in his body but had morphed into something more primal—a hunger demanding immediate satisfaction. Outside, he could hear Taylor ushering Leila toward the elevator.
"Let's go," Taylor said firmly.
"No! I won't leave like this!" Leila protested one last time. Christian couldn't suppress a smirk at her futile resistance; it was amusing how some women believed they could change him or bend him to their will. As the elevator dinged and the doors opened, he heard Taylor's parting words: "You'll thank me later."
With that remark echoing in his mind, Christian leaned back in his chair, satisfied as he listened to the faint sounds of Leila's retreat. The elevator doors slid shut with a soft chime, and he could almost picture the frustration etched across her pale face as she was whisked away from his penthouse.
It was over and done.
He took a moment to revel in the ensuing silence, the earlier tension dissipating like smoke in the air. Rising from his chair, he walked to the window and gazed out at the city skyline bathed in twilight. The lights twinkled like stars, and for a brief moment, calm washed over him. But that tranquility was fleeting; the anticipation of Lily's arrival stirred something deeper within him—a raging heat pooling in his core, craving release. Christian turned away from the window, his mind racing with thoughts of what was to come.
Just then, his phone buzzed on the desk, jolting him from his restless reverie. A message from Lily flashed on the screen: On my way. Can't wait to see you.
He licked his lips and quickly typed back: Gonna make you want me even more.
With that sent, he returned to his desk and poured himself a glass of whiskey, savoring its rich aroma before taking a slow sip. The warmth spread through him, reigniting that familiar fire deep inside.
As he set the glass down, a soft knock echoed at the door. "Yes," he called, his voice steady and commanding. The door swung open to reveal Taylor stepping inside. "She's gone," the bodyguard said with a curt nod.
"Good," leaning against the desk with his legs casually crossed at the ankle, Christian radiated confidence. "You handled it well."
"Just doing my job," Taylor replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. "But I must say, you know how to make an exit memorable, sir."
Christian shrugged nonchalantly. "Guess it's all part of the game."
Taylor smirked but didn't press further; instead, he glanced at Christian's glass before leaving the office and closing the door behind him.
Christian took another sip and settled back into his chair. He could feel Lily's presence drawing nearer—soon her energy would fill this space, making him forget everything else.
Anastasia sat on the edge of her bed, the weight of impending loss pressing down on her like a heavy blanket. The event at her bookshop had been a whirlwind of hope and despair, but now reality settled in, cold and unyielding. Christian Grey's plans for the building loomed over her like a dark cloud, and she felt powerless to change it. His words echoed in her mind: 'You need strategy.'
The comment gnawed at her, igniting a fire of frustration deep within. Their meeting had been tense; Grey standing there, exuding confidence and authority, while she felt small and insignificant in his presence. She despised him for it—his ruthless business acumen made her feel inadequate, as if she were merely an obstacle in his path rather than a passionate owner of a beloved bookstore.
How dare he assume that she needed his guidance? Did he think she was some naive child who couldn't navigate her own life? The very idea that this ruthless businessman could waltz into her world and dictate terms made her blood boil. She despised him for it—his confidence felt like an affront to everything she had worked for.
In that moment, Ana found herself grappling with his suggestion.
What kind of strategy did he expect from someone like her?
She was a passionate book lover, not a corporate mogul. The thought of crafting a plan to counteract his ambitions felt overwhelming and absurd. She envisioned herself sitting across from him, fumbling for answers while he stared at her with that infuriatingly handsome good looks and his calm demeanor, as if he held all the cards.
As Anastasia paced the small confines of her room, ideas flitted through her mind like butterflies—each one more elusive than the last.
Should she seek advice from friends?
Consult business books?
But deep down, she knew none of that would be enough to combat the force that was Christian Grey. With a deep breath, she picked up her phone, her fingers trembling slightly as she dialed Ray's number. What could she possibly say to him? She was at a loss, caught between the dream of preserving her shop and the harsh reality of Grey's greedy cut-throat ambitions looming over her like an insurmountable wall.
"Hey, Dad," she said when Ray answered, trying to keep her voice steady despite the turmoil inside.
"Annie! What's up?" His tone was cheerful, but it faltered when he sensed the uncertainty in hers.
"I was wondering… can I move back in with you for a while? Just until I figure things out?" Her heart raced as she spoke, each word feeling heavier than the last.
There was a pause on the other end. "Is everything okay? You sound… off." Ray's concern was palpable; he had always cared deeply for her happiness.
"It's just—" She hesitated, searching for the right words. "I might lose my bookshop. Christian Grey has plans for the building that don't include me."
The admission hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken fears.
Ray sighed softly. "Annie, I'm so sorry to hear that. But why not fight for it? You've always been so passionate about that place."
"I've tried," she replied, frustration creeping into her voice while she felt weighed down by dread. "But it feels like I'm fighting against a tsunami. I just need some time to regroup."
Another pause followed before he spoke again, his voice tinged with hesitation. "Well, uh… I've got someone over right now," Ray said carefully. "You know how it is."
Anastasia felt a familiar pang of disappointment twist in her stomach. It reminded her too much of her mother Carla, who always seemed to have a new husband or boyfriend occupying their home. "Right," she said quietly, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I understand."
"Maybe just give me some time to sort things out here?" Ray suggested gently.
"Sure," she replied, though the word felt hollow and empty as it left her lips.
After hanging up, Ana stared at the wall across from her, feeling more alone than ever. The familiar surroundings of her room, once a sanctuary filled with memories and dreams, now felt suffocating. She needed to take control of her future—she couldn't let herself be swept away by circumstances.
Determined, she turned to her laptop and began job hunting online. Hours slipped by as she scrolled through listings, each one blurring into the next. She felt a mix of hope and despair with every click, searching for something that might reignite her passion or provide a lifeline. But nothing seemed right; everything felt like a compromise.
Then one listing caught her eye: an assistant position at Grey Enterprise Holding. Her heart sank at the thought of working for him directly—the very man threatening everything she held dear. Memories of their encounters flooded back: his piercing gaze, the way he commanded a room, and the unsettling mix of attraction and frustration he stirred within her. Disgusted with herself for even considering it, Anastasia closed her laptop and tossed it aside.
Frustrated, she reached for her phone again to call Jose, hoping for some comfort from an old friend. But after several rings, his voicemail greeted her instead. "Great," she muttered under her breath, feeling increasingly isolated.
Sinking back onto her bed, Ana let out a shaky breath as worry and sadness washed over her like waves crashing against rocky shores. What would become of her beloved bookshop? Would she really have to start over? The future felt uncertain and daunting—a vast expanse filled with shadows where once there had been light.
She closed her eyes and tried to envision what life could look like if she had to leave everything behind. The thought of packing up the shelves filled with stories that had shaped her life was unbearable. Each book represented not just a title but a piece of herself—her dreams, aspirations, and countless hours spent in that cozy space surrounded by words that inspired her.
Anastasia opened her eyes again, staring at the ceiling as tears threatened to spill over. She wiped them away angrily; she didn't want to feel sorry for herself. Instead, she needed to find a way forward. Maybe moving back in with Ray wasn't such a bad idea after all—at least it would give her time to regroup and plan without the constant pressure of impending loss hanging over her head.
But then there was Ray's new girlfriend to consider. The thought of sharing her childhood home with someone who might not understand her or respect her space made Anastasia's stomach churn. She had always cherished the bond she shared with her father, and the idea of a stranger intruding on that felt unsettling. It was as if every time she sought comfort, something else stood in her way.
Ana sat up, running a hand through her hair in frustration. She needed to think clearly. Maybe it was time to confront her fears head-on instead of retreating into the shadows. There had to be a way to fight for what she loved.
With renewed determination, she grabbed her laptop again and began typing furiously, searching for local community resources that could help small businesses like hers. As she navigated through various websites, she stumbled upon a blog post titled 'The Heartbeat of Our Community: Why Local Bookstores Matter' by Kate Kavanagh.
Intrigued, Anastasia clicked on the link and began reading. The article eloquently detailed the vital role independent bookstores play in fostering community connections and preserving culture. Kate wrote passionately about how these spaces serve as 'sanctuaries for readers and dreamers alike,' emphasizing that they are not just places to buy books but hubs for creativity and conversation.
As Ana read on, she felt a spark of inspiration igniting within her. Kavanagh highlighted success stories from various towns where local bookstores had become central to community life: 'From hosting book clubs that bring neighbors together to organizing author signings that celebrate local talent, these shops create bonds that extend far beyond their shelves.'
Each paragraph resonated deeply with Ana's own dreams for her shop. She found herself nodding along as Kate pointed out, 'In an age dominated by digital consumption, supporting your local bookstore is an act of rebellion against anonymity.' The words struck a chord; Ana realized how much she longed for her bookstore to be that kind of place—a vibrant part of the community fabric.
The more she read, the more impressed she became with Kate's insights and genuine love for literature and community. It was clear that Kate Kavanagh understood the challenges faced by small business owners and was committed to making a difference. Anastasia found herself wishing she could reach out to Kate directly—perhaps they could collaborate or brainstorm ideas together?
After finishing the article, Anastasia leaned back against the headboard, feeling a mix of hope and determination. If others could find ways to thrive against the odds, so could she. Inspired by Kate's words, Ana decided to take action; she would start drafting a plan for her bookstore—a vision that included community engagement and creative events that would draw even more people in.
As she jotted down ideas in her notebook, she felt a new sense of purpose returning. True, the future still felt uncertain, but now it seemed filled with possibilities rather than despair.
With renewed hope, Anastasia returned her attention back to her laptop again to do some more research. As she scrolled through various articles about local businesses, another headline caught her eye: 'Christian Grey on Business Innovation: A New Era for Local Enterprises.'
Curiosity piqued, she clicked on the link. The article featured an interview with Christian Grey himself, discussing his views on entrepreneurship and community support. As she skimmed through the text, images of him accompanied the piece—his piercing gaze and confident demeanor radiating from the screen.
In one photo, he stood in a sleek boardroom, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and commanding presence as always. His coppery hair was perfectly styled, and he wore an expression that combined intensity with a hint of arrogance. In another shot, he was captured mid-speech at a conference, gesturing passionately as if he were imparting wisdom to an eager audience.
Ana felt a surge of frustration as memories from last night flooded back—the way he had dismissed her concerns at the event, his arrogance grating on her nerves. She couldn't believe how someone so influential could be so out of touch with the struggles of small business owners like herself.
"Ugh," she muttered under her breath as she stared at his pictures. "What does he know about real community support?"
The more she looked at him, the angrier she became. His confident smirk in one photo made her skin crawl; it was as if he believed he had all the answers while completely ignoring the reality faced by people like her. 'He probably thinks throwing money at problems is enough,' she thought bitterly. 'Doesn't he realize that it's about connection? About heart?'
Anastasia felt a mix of resentment and determination boiling within her. The polished images of Christian Grey only served to remind her of how disconnected he was from the very essence of what made local businesses thrive—the relationships built within communities and the passion that fueled them.
"No more distractions," she declared to herself firmly. "I won't let him or anyone else take away my passion for this bookstore."
With that resolve solidifying in her heart, Anastasia returned to her notebook. She began sketching out plans for another community event—a book fair that would celebrate local authors and artists while inviting everyone to share their love for literature. The idea blossomed in her mind, fueled by the very passion that Christian Grey seemed to overlook.
As she wrote, her thoughts shifted from anger to excitement. She envisioned colorful banners hanging outside her shop, tables filled with books from local writers, and cozy reading nooks where people could gather and discuss their favorite stories. She imagined inviting schools to participate, encouraging children to explore the magic of reading and creativity.
Ana's pen flew across the page as she outlined potential activities: poetry readings, storytelling sessions for kids, and even a panel discussion featuring local authors sharing their journeys.
The more she brainstormed, the more invigorated she felt. This was what it meant to be part of something bigger than herself—to create connections and foster a love for literature that transcended mere transactions.
As she closed her notebook, Anastasia took a deep breath, feeling lighter than she had all day. She might not have all the answers yet, but one thing was clear: she wouldn't give up without a fight. Her bookstore was worth every ounce of effort, every late night spent planning and dreaming. This was home.
"Let's do this," she whispered to herself with a smile. "I'll show them what this place can be." Ana felt ready to take on whatever challenges lay ahead—even if it meant facing Christian Grey again someday. After all, she had something he didn't: an unwavering belief in the power of community and the magic of stories.
As noon approached, Christian Grey strolled into the cozy bookshop to personally update Anastasia Steele on his project's new schedule. He felt a twisted thrill at the thought of confronting her in person. But when he stepped inside, he discovered the shop was empty.
As he wandered through the seemingly deserted bookshop, he was enveloped by the rich scent of fresh paper and ink—a welcome departure from the sterile confines of his high-rise offices and boardroom meetings that he was accustomed to.
Absently, he flipped through a stack of magazines on a nearby desk when the soft click of heels caught his attention. His icy gray eyes landed on Hannah, Steele's employee, as she entered the room, poised and confident, her dark curls cascading over her shoulders while she pushed a cart laden with newly arrived books.
Hannah had been busy unpacking in the back and hadn't noticed the tiny bell chime when he walked in. So, when she looked up to see him sauntering along the shelves, her heart skipped a beat. With his effortless swagger, Grey commanded her attention completely. Another flutter raced through her as he approached, a playful glint in his eye.
"I'm looking for someone," he said smoothly, his voice dripping with confidence.
Hannah looked up, her expression friendly, though alarm bells rang in her mind. Meeting his piercing gaze, she crossed her arms defensively. "Ms. Steele isn't here right now. Can I help you with something?"
Christian extended his hand, a charming smile playing on his lips. "Christian Grey," he said, his grip firm and deliberate, exuding strength and assurance.
Hannah shook his hand, suppressing a smirk at the formality of the moment in such an informal setting. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Grey," she replied, her tone teasingly sweet as she gave him a once-over. "Isn't that a bit formal for a bookshop? I'm Hannah. Can I get you something? Coffee?" She nodded toward the espresso machine and picked up a cup before he could respond.
Grey chuckled softly, clearly amused by her jab. "Espresso would be perfect, thank you," he said, following her to the coffee machine, his platinum gaze tracking her every move. "But only if you're not too busy."
"I can manage that," she replied over her shoulder as she poured him a small glass of sparkling water.
"Anyway, I like to keep things professional when I can." He leaned against the counter with an air of superiority. "But for you, I'll make an exception. You can call me Christian."
"Very generous of you," she shot back dryly, rolling her eyes internally at his haughty demeanor while preparing his drink. Steaming cup in hand, Hannah turned to face him. "Alright then, Christian—what brings you to our little corner of Seattle? Planning to finally tear it down?"
His smile faltered for a brief moment before he regained his composure. "I've heard great things about this place," he replied casually, glancing around as if appraising its worth. "I wanted to see if Ms. Steele could recommend some books for me." He took a sip of his espresso, pursing his lips in approval for just an instant.
"Books?" Hannah echoed, feigning surprise while stifling a laugh at the thought of the notorious Christian Grey buried in literature. She paused in front of a shelf, her fingers dancing absently across the neatly aligned spines as she looked at him. "What kind of books are you interested in? Self-help? Romance? Or perhaps something more… adventurous, Christian?"
Grey leaned closer, the crisp scent of his expensive cologne wafting toward her. There was an unmistakable glint in his eye that suggested he thought himself quite clever. "I live for adventure, Hannah. What do you suggest?"
She hesitated for a moment, weighing her options carefully before reaching for a book with a striking cover—a romance novel featuring a brooding billionaire and an innocent heroine—and handed it to him with a sly smile. "How about this one? It's quite popular right now."
Christian took the book, flipping it over to read the blurb. His brow furrowed slightly as he caught the underlying message in her choice but decided to play along, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Interesting choice," he said, amusement flickering in his eyes.
"And if you're looking for something more… enlightening," Hannah continued, reaching for another title that delved into themes of power dynamics and relationships, shoving it into his hands. "This one might pique your interest as well."
Grey raised an eyebrow at her boldness but couldn't help admiring her confidence. "I didn't realize you had such refined taste in literature, Hannah."
"Just trying to keep things interesting," she replied smoothly, meeting his smoky gray gaze without flinching. Inside, however, she was formulating a plan—if she could get Ana to see Christian in a different light, perhaps there was a way to save the bookshop from his bulldozers.
"Tell me, Hannah," he said, handing her back both books before pulling out his wallet and presenting a sleek black credit card with an air of casual dominance. "What do you think of my plans for this place? I hear it's quite the hot topic around here."
She tilted her head slightly, feigning innocence as she chirped, "Oh, you mean your plans to turn all this into luxury apartments? I suppose that would be… rather adventurous for you too, Christian." Her voice remained calm, but her mind raced with possibilities as she made her way over to the cash desk.
Christian chuckled again, clearly enjoying their banter. "You're sharp. I like that." Leaning in closer, he lowered his voice as if sharing a secret. "But you must understand—it's all about progress. Sometimes we have to make tough choices for the greater good."
"Of course," she replied evenly, maintaining a neutral expression while mentally plotting how to steer Ana toward him without revealing her intentions just yet. "But sometimes progress comes at a cost that not everyone is willing to pay."
Christian raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her subtle challenge. "And what cost do you think that might be?"
"The loss of community," she said thoughtfully, gesturing around the shop as she handed him back his card. "Places like this hold memories and stories that can't simply be replaced by your shiny new buildings."
He regarded her for a moment, his expression shifting from amusement to contemplation. "You're passionate about this place," he noted.
"I am," she replied simply, allowing a hint of sincerity to seep into her voice. "And I think Ana is too." Taking a breath, Hannah gauged his reaction. "Maybe if you got to know Ana better, you'd see the value in preserving what's here instead of bulldozing it for profit."
Christian studied her, a smirk ghosting across his chiseled features. "So, you think I should charm Ms. Steele into changing my mind?"
"Not charm," she grimaced, though her tone remained steady. "Just understand what this place means to her—and to the community. There's more at stake than just a piece of real estate. If you truly want to make an impact, consider, even for a moment, how your plans affect the people who love this shop."
Christian pursed his lips slightly, intrigued. "You're quite the strategist, aren't you? I didn't expect that from someone working in a bookshop."
"I guess you simply underestimate me," she said with a grin, feeling a surge of confidence as she held his piercing gaze. "I have my own ideas about how things should go around here. Plus, I have a master's in marketing."
He regarded her with amusement, as if trying to gauge her intentions. "Well, Hannah, I must admit you've made this visit far more interesting than I anticipated." Christian took the small paper bag she held out to him.
"Glad to hear it; we aim to please," she replied smoothly. "But remember, change doesn't always have to come at a cost."
As he turned to leave, Christian paused at the door and glanced back at her with a playful smirk. "I look forward to our next conversation, Hannah."
"Me too," she said, watching him walk away with a blend of satisfaction and determination. "And thanks for stopping by, Christian." She was confident she had planted a seed of doubt in his mind about his plans—and perhaps even opened the door to something unexpected.
With renewed resolve, Hannah returned to her tasks, aware that every interaction could bring her and Anastasia closer to saving the bookshop and its cherished stories from being lost forever.
A/N:
Thank you once more for all your lovely and supportive reviews and concrit, your favs and follows. I love hearing from you and am so glad you enjoy the story just as much as I do. Hope you like the new chapter. Let me know what you think. Can Hannah convince Ana and what will Mr. Grey do next? Take care! x