Chapters of Trust
by
Ava LeBeau
Eleven
The city lights were blurring past as Taylor navigated through the evening traffic. Christian's fingers drummed against his thigh, a nervous rhythm that matched the thrum of his thoughts. He held his phone to his ear, listening to his father's voice on the other end.
As they approached a red light, Taylor glanced in the rearview mirror, catching Grey's weary eyes. He adjusted the air conditioning slightly, just enough to create a more comfortable atmosphere without saying a word.
Christian rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shake off the fatigue that hovered over him like a dark cloud. He hadn't slept well in days, too many late nights spent poring over reports and too few moments to breathe. Grey shifted in his seat, catching sight of a small dog, not unlike shaggy Max back in Seattle, being walked on the sidewalk. Christian surprised himself with a smile at its playful antics before returning to what lay ahead of him.
"Christian, you need to understand that these regulations are not something we can just ignore," Carrick's voice boomed, authoritative and unyielding.
"I'm well aware of that, father. But we can't let this derail everything we've worked for," he fired back, frustration rearing up within him. "We need a plan that doesn't involve waiting around for someone else to make a decision."
"Your impatience is going to cost you more than you realize," his father retorted. "You're too focused on immediate results instead of considering the long-term implications."
Christian clenched his jaw. "And you're too stuck in your ways. We can't afford to be complacent while this threatens the whole project. I need your support, not lectures. Okay?"
He caught Taylor's eye again in the mirror; there was no judgment there, just an understanding nod as if to say everything was going to be alright.
"You think I'm going to back your reckless decisions?" His father's tone was incredulous. "You're playing with fire here, Christian. You need to consult with me before making any moves."
"I don't have time for consultations when there are deadlines looming," Christian snapped back, anger throbbing inside him. "I'm heading back to Seattle tonight to deal with this directly. I'll figure it out without your interference if I have to."
There was a moment of silence on the line before his father spoke again, this time more measured but still firm. "Just remember who has been in this game longer than you. Don't let your ambition blind you, son."
He took a deep breath, trying to rein in his anger as the car approached the airport, but it did little to ease the tightness in his chest.
"Christian?" His father's voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back into reality. "Are you listening?"
"Yeah, I'm right here," he replied quickly, trying to project confidence even as doubt gnawed at him. He could feel Taylor's eyes on him once again, gauging his reaction.
"I'll consider your suggestions. Just… get everything ready for me," Christian said tersely. He could hear the faint crackle of static on the line as his father continued to speak, but his mind was already racing ahead to the tasks waiting for him in Seattle. "Or else I'll handle it my way," he said defiantly before ending the call.
He exhaled sharply and sat back in the seat, staring out at the private jet waiting on the tarmac—a stark reminder of what was at stake. Taylor pulled up beside it and parked. "You okay back there?" he asked casually, though there was an underlying concern in his tone.
Christian met Taylor's gaze in the mirror. "Yeah, just tired," he admitted. It felt good to acknowledge it instead of pretending otherwise.
Taylor glanced back at Grey with an understanding nod. "Ready?"
Christian nodded curtly, his jaw still clenched as he stepped out of the SUV. The cool evening air hit him like a splash of cold water, but it did little to ease the simmering frustration inside him. He could feel the weight of his father's expectations pressing down on him, and it only fueled his irritation.
As he walked toward the waiting private jet, he shot a glance back at Taylor, who was unloading Grey's bags from the trunk. "Let's make this quick," he muttered, trying to shake off the remnants of his heated conversation.
Taylor nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll handle everything on this end."
Christian climbed the steps to the jet, each footfall like a countdown to an impending confrontation. He took a deep breath as he entered the cabin, trying to focus on what lay ahead rather than the argument with his father that still lingered in his thoughts.
Settling into one of the cream leather seats, he ran a hand through his hair and stared out the window at the tarmac. The jet's engines hummed softly, but all he could hear was the echo of their disagreement—his father's voice reminding him of caution and strategy while Christian felt an overwhelming urge to act decisively.
"Just get me to Seattle," he said coldly to the flight attendant who approached with a warm smile. She nodded and moved away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
As they began taxiing down the runway, Grey felt that familiar knot tighten in his stomach. He hated feeling cornered by his father's paternalism and unreasonably high family expectations. The impatience that had driven him this far now felt like a double-edged sword, one that could either cut through obstacles or leave him vulnerable.
He would confront these challenges head-on, even if it meant that he'd have to reluctantly bend to his father's wisdom along the way. But for now, all he could do was channel that irritation into determination as they lifted off into the night sky.
It was almost noon and her day off. Contently, Anastasia was lounging on her couch, scrolling through her phone when a notification popped up. She raised an eyebrow, surprised to find it was a message from Christian. Ana had thought he wouldn't be back from his business travels until next week.
"Great," she muttered to herself, rolling her eyes as she opened the app.
Hey Ana, I'm back earlier than expected.
Changed plans for tonight. Would you like to come over?
She couldn't help but smirk at the casual tone he tried to project. "How charming," she said to herself, mimicking his haughty voice. "An invitation after I turned you down yesterday? Bold move, Mister Fancy Pants."
She typed back quickly, letting her snark shine through.
Wow, Christian. How generous of you to invite me into your lair.
Should I bring snacks or just my sparkling personality?
A moment later, her phone buzzed again with his reply.
Snacks would be great if you have something special in mind.
Otherwise, my housekeeper will take care of it…
but your personality is definitely a bonus.
Anastasia rolled her eyes, mumbling, "Housekeeper… how typical," but felt a flicker of amusement, he'd even added a smiley.
You're lucky I have both in abundance
Was he trying to pry for more details about her?
Anyway, nice try, Mr. Grey
She typed quickly.
Fishing for my favorite snacks now?
What's next? An interrogation about my childhood?
He replied almost instantly.
Just curious! But if you want to keep your secrets, that's fine too.
Then there was a pause.
Ana bit her lip as she stared down at the three blinking dots for a moment before he continued, and when he did, his tone seemed to shift slightly.
Honestly, it's been a long week.
Just thought it might be nice to relax
with some good food and a movie.
She hesitated for a moment, sensing the guarded warmth in his words that hadn't been there before. Maybe beneath that arrogant exterior was someone who needed a break just as much as she did… or was he just trying to lure her into a trap? Relax? More like getting laid? Reluctantly, she typed back,
Fine
But only if you promise not to bore me
with tales of corporate espionage
or whatever it is you do.
He replied right away,
Deal.
See you at 7?
Anastasia smiled softly.
Sure thing, Mr. Big Time CEO
She shot back playfully before putting her phone down and letting out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding while a quiet contentment spread through her.
As much as Anastasia enjoyed mocking him, there was something about this unexpected invitation that intrigued her, maybe even more than she wanted to admit.
Christian looked down at her last answer.
"Mister Big Time CEO," he mumbled to himself and grinned as the elevator reached the top floor and the mirrored doors slid open.
Shoving his phone into his pocket, Grey strode through the glass-walled office, the faint scent of expensive cologne trailing behind him. As he reached his PA's desk, he paused, a glint of authority in his eyes.
"Andrea… Please let my housekeeper know I'll have a guest this evening. I want a selection of light snacks and finger food, along with an assortment of drinks."
"Of course, Mr. Grey," she replied, jotting down the details. "Nothing too carb-heavy I suppose?"
"Exactly," Christian smirked, watching Andrea take more notes while he absently toyed with his car key in his hand.
"And could you also call Ms Matteo for me? I need to speak with her."
"Right away, sir," she said, her fingers already dancing over the keyboard.
Once in his office, Christian shrugged out of his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves and settled into his leather chair. Moments later, his desk phone rang.
"Mr. Grey, I have Ms. Matteo on the line for you."
"Thank you, Andrea," he replied coolly, masking the irritation simmering beneath his composed exterior.
"Gia," he said when she answered, wasting no time, his voice clipped and tense. "We need to talk about the project."
"Christian, I…," she began, but he cut her off.
"No, you listen to me," he snapped, his frustration boiling over. "You've overlooked critical regulations. This is unacceptable, Gia."
There was a pause on the other end before Gia responded defensively. "I didn't overlook anything. You wanted me to start over and there were changes in the regulations that I wasn't aware of…"
"Changes?" Christian interrupted again, his voice rising. He could feel heat creeping up his neck and into his cheeks, turning them a furious shade of red. "You're telling me you didn't bother to check? This is your responsibility."
"I'm really doing my best here, Christian," Gia retorted, her tone equally heated.
Christian clenched his jaw and hissed, his voice low and dangerous now. "Your fuckin' best isn't good enough. You're jeopardizing everything we've worked for, Gia."
"Listen, I understand you're upset," she replied, her voice wavering slightly. "But I can fix this…"
"Fix it?" Christian scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You should have never let it get this far. We're not talking about a minor oversight here; this could cost us millions."
He could hear Gia breathing heavily on the other end of the line as she struggled to maintain her composure. Christian's expression hardened further; disappointment morphed into something darker within him, a simmering anger that threatened to boil over. How could she have let this happen? He had placed his trust in Gia, and now it felt like she had betrayed not just him, but the entire vision they had worked so hard to build together.
"Alright, I don't want to be bothered with this anymore," he said coldly. "Send everything over to Andrea and Mark from Legal." The words dripped with disdain as he continued, "I'll handle it from here."
"What? Christian…," Gia started to protest, her voice tinged with disbelief.
"Just do it," he ordered sharply, cutting her off once more. The finality in his tone left no room for argument or negotiation. He could almost hear the weight of his words settling between them, a chasm that felt insurmountable.
With his command hanging in the air like an ultimatum, Christian ended the call without waiting for her response. He tossed his phone aside, heart pounding with anger and disappointment. Staring out the window at a world that moved on, he felt the weight of Gia's betrayal. It wasn't just a letdown; it felt like sabotage. How could she be so careless? The thought gnawed at him, deepening his frustration. This was more than business, this was family, and her failure cut deeper than any financial loss. He had trusted Gia with this project, and she had betrayed that trust personally.
Still reeling from his conversation with Gia, Christian turned when the phone on his desk buzzed again. He glanced at the screen and saw Elliot's name flash across it. With a sigh, he answered.
"Christian, we need to talk," Elliot's voice came through, tight with tension.
"What's there to talk about? I've got work to do," Christian replied curtly, trying to keep his frustration in check.
"You can't just dismiss Gia like that. She's my wife, for Christ's sake. Not some underling you can belittle," Elliot shot back, his anger palpable.
Christian clenched his jaw. "She messed up big time, E. This isn't just about feelings; it's business. We're on the line here."
"I know you are. But taking it out on her isn't going to fix anything," Elliot's voice rose. "You're treating her like she's some employee who can be replaced. Gia's made a mistake, everyone does. But you're acting like she's the enemy."
"Maybe if she took her responsibilities seriously, I wouldn't have to push so hard," Christian snapped back at his brother, that muscle in his jaw began to jump. "I won't let anyone drag me down because they can't handle the pressure."
"Push? She's been working twenty-four-seven while you sit there acting like a tyrant. You need to apologize."
Christian let out a harsh laugh, bitter and mocking. "Apologize? For what? That she fucked up? I'm trying to keep this sinking ship afloat. Maybe if you weren't so busy coddling her, you'd see how serious this is, E."
"Coddling her?" Elliot's patience snapped. "She's my partner in life… and work. You think it's easy for her to juggle everything while you change your mind constantly and throw tantrums like a three-year-old? She's doing her best under impossible circumstances."
"A three-year-old?" Christian spat back, venom dripping from each word. "Look who's talking, E. You're just as soft as she is. As I said, this isn't about feelings; it's about results."
Elliot let out a frustrated breath. "You're being blind to what really matters."
"And what would you have me do?" Christian's voice was heavy with sarcasm. "Spare her precious feelings while everything's going to shit? That's not how this works, E, and you know it."
"Listen, Christian, you're my brother, and I get that you want to protect what you've built… but don't sacrifice your family in the process," Elliot countered sharply.
Silence hung heavy between them as Christian processed his brother's words. He could feel the weight of their shared history pressing down on him, but pride kept him from admitting he might be wrong.
"I'll handle it my way," he finally said, his voice glacial.
"Fine," Elliot replied bitterly. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
The line went dead, leaving Christian behind with nothing but his thoughts; and an unsettling sense of doubt, creeping in where certainty once stood firm.
Christian stopped in the middle of his office, rage thrumming through his veins. The walls felt like they were closing in on him as he replayed their argument in his mind. He couldn't believe how far things had spiraled out of control.
Elliot had always been some sort of emotional anchor for him, a steady presence in his turbulent life. But now Christian felt disrespected and betrayed. More than that. He felt like Elliot had let him down, like he had broken their bond of trust.
Anger rippled through Christian as he hurled his phone across the room. It slammed into the wall with a sickening crack before falling to the marble floor in pieces: a shattered reflection of his own frayed emotions.
"Fuck," he snapped at no one in particular, running a shaky hand through his tousled hair as he stared at the wreckage.
Christian paced back and forth, breathing heavily, adrenaline coursing through him. The reality of what he'd just done began to sink in when there was a soft knock on his door.
"Sir?" Andrea stepped inside, her head tilted slightly, brow furrowed with concern. "Is everything alright?" she asked, glancing at the scattered fragments of the phone on the floor and then back at her boss.
He shot her a quick piercing glance, irritation flickering in his anthracite eyes. "Just get me a new phone," he growled, his voice still laced with frustration.
"Of course, Mr. Grey," she replied smoothly, ignoring his disrespect. "I will ensure that a replacement is arranged immediately."
Without waiting for an answer, she turned on her heel and gently closed the door behind her, leaving Grey alone with his thoughts and the remnants of his outburst.
Hannah stood in front of Anastasia's vanity, makeup brushes and palettes scattered around her like confetti after a party.
"Okay, we have exactly three hours until you're supposed to be at Christian's place," she said, her voice rising an octave as she frantically rummaged through the array of products.
"Oh my gosh, that's like… practically no time. You should've called me sooner. We need to make you look like a goddess, not someone who just rolled out of bed."
"Hannah, it's just snacks and a movie. He won't care if I don't look like I just stepped off a runway."
"Just a movie? At his place? Ana, this is Christian Grey. The guy could charm a cactus to bloom. You need to be ready for anything… dinner, dancing, or an impromptu proposal," Hannah exclaimed, brandishing a tube of lipstick like a magic wand.
"Charming? A proposal? Great. Just what I wanted… an evening of forced small talk and endless opinions on superhero movies. What if we just talk about the bookshop instead? I mean, I'd much rather he obsess over that and then leave us be."
Hannah rolled her eyes at the sarcasm. "Come on. This is huge. He's totally into you, Ana. Dinner and movies? That's basically a date."
"A date?" Anastasia scoffed. "More like a hostage situation. Or maybe some pump-and-dump scheme… he's a real player after all."
"In a hot suit," Hannah added, more to herself.
"What?"
"A player… in a hot suit," she plopped down next to Ana, undeterred by her snark. "You need to dress up. Show him you're not just some girl in jeans and a cardigan."
"But I am that girl, Hannah. It's my signature style."
"No way," Hannah stood with hands on her hips like she was gearing up for battle. "We're giving you a glow-up. And then we're gonna find something cute."
"But I love my comfy jeans."
"Yeah, whatever. Now, let's get started on your makeup before I start hyperventilating."
As Hannah applied foundation with surgical precision, Anastasia couldn't help but chuckle at her friend's antics. "You know, at this rate, I might end up looking more like a clown than a goddess," she joked.
"Clown? Please," Hannah shot back, feigning seriousness. She paused for effect and added, "If Grey doesn't fall head over heels tonight, I'll personally hunt him down for a stern talking-to."
Anastasia raised an eyebrow. "You really think that'll work?"
"Absolutely! I mean, it's not a real 'date night' unless your best friend is threatening your date with an intervention," Hannah quipped, reaching for the eyeliner.
"I'm pretty sure I can pull this off without looking like I'm auditioning for Miss America," Ana said, blinking frantically as Hannah lined her eyelid.
"Just trust me," Hannah insisted, dabbing more foundation onto the sponge. "You'll thank me later when Grey can't take his eyes off you."
Ana rolled her eyes but sat up straight as Hannah approached again. "Fine, but if he doesn't fall for me, I'm blaming you… because you made me look like a clown."
They both laughed.
As Hannah worked her magic, Ana felt that familiar irritation creeping in. Sure, Grey was easy on the eyes, beyond handsome, but he was also infuriatingly annoying and stuck-up.
"What if he spends the whole time talking about fantasy football or something? I can practically hear him now," she mimicked his arrogant drawl: "'Did you see that last game, Ana? What do you think about the quarterback's stats?'"
Hannah giggled as she brushed blush onto Anastasia's cheeks. "You're such a drama queen. Look, if he starts rambling about sports, just zone out and plan your escape route."
"Or I could just rock my jeans and cardigan and be comfy," Ana said with a half-shrug.
"Not happening!" Hannah shot back, adding highlighter with a flourish. "You're going to dazzle him tonight. Come on… do it for the bookshop."
Ana sighed dramatically, watching Hannah blend vibrant eyeshadow onto her lids;a big leap from her usual minimalist look. "What if he doesn't even notice? What if he's too busy being… well, Christian Grey?"
Hannah paused, locking eyes with her best friend in the mirror. "At least you'll know you put yourself out there. Who knows? He might surprise you, Ana."
"Well, I might just surprise myself by dozing off during his latest business trip recap," Ana muttered.
But with each swipe of makeup and playful jab from Hannah, her nerves started to ease. There was a lot at stake, but maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. Grey had been different at the bar, kind of cute even, and he'd made sure she got home safely.
"There," Hannah said, stepping back after one last swipe of mascara. "Gosh, you look amazing. Just remember: confidence is key. And if all else fails, bat those lashes and smile like you've got a secret."
Ana took a deep breath and smiled at her reflection. "Thanks, Hannah. Now let's hope my secret isn't that I'm about to trip over my own feet when I walk in."
Hannah laughed and nudged her playfully. "If you do trip, just make it look intentional... I mean, like a dramatic entrance. 'Och, Christian, I'm so captivated by your charm that I lost my balance!'" She gestured theatrically.
Ana rolled her eyes but couldn't help chuckling. "Right, because nothing says romance like a good ole faceplant."
"Exactly. If he can't appreciate your clumsiness, he's not worth your time anyway," Hannah declared with mock seriousness. "Now let's do something with your hair."
Ana ran a hand through her tousled locks, ready for whatever came next, while Hannah rummaged through products, pulling out a curling wand and clips.
"We can do soft waves. Effortless but sexy," she said with a wink.
Ana sighed, twirling a strand around her finger, grumbling. "Sure, because who doesn't feel totally at home after an hour of fussing with their hair?"
Just as Hannah plugged in the curling wand, Anastasia's phone buzzed on the bed. She glanced at the unfamiliar number and answered with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
"Hello?"
"Is this Ms. Steele?" a bright voice chimed in.
"Uh, yeah," Ana replied cautiously, biting her lip.
"Great. This is Andrea, Mr. Grey's personal assistant. Hope you're having a wonderful day, Ms. Steele." The mention of Christian's last name sent a flutter of nerves through her but she kept it friendly, "Hi, Andrea. Nice to meet you."
"A limo will be picking you up later for your dinner with Mr. Grey," Andrea announced, sounding oddly formal.
"A limo? Seriously?" Ana blinked in disbelief.
"Mr. Grey thought it would be a nice touch," Andrea continued, her enthusiasm unwavering.
"He really wants to make this evening special for you."
Ana's stomach twisted at the thought of being whisked away in a stretch limo like some princess. "Wow, that's…uhm… really generous of him," she said, trying to keep it light while grappling with the idea. But after a moment, she added, "Listen, that sounds lovely, but I'd prefer to keep things low-key. I'll pass on the limo, thanks."
"Oh, I understand," Andrea replied. "But it's merely meant to enhance your experience tonight."
"I appreciate that, but I'm going to pass. Sorry," Ana insisted, aiming for polite yet firm.
"Of course. Just wanted you to know it was an option, Ms. Steele," Andrea said cheerfully before ending the call.
"Thanks for the heads-up," Ana said, forcing enthusiasm even as her mind raced with feelings of being trapped in this situation.
She turned to Hannah with wide eyes. "A limo? Seriously?"
Hannah clapped her hands together, clearly excited. "Oh my God… That's amazing. You'll feel like royalty."
Ana shook her head. "No way, Hannah. I'm not getting into some fancy car just because Grey thinks he can impress me with his 'big plans.' I want to keep my freedom."
"But think about it…," Hannah started, her eyes sparkling. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. You could have a great time."
Anastasia rolled her eyes, annoyance bubbling up once again. "Hannah, it's not about the damn limo. I just don't want to feel paraded around like some trophy. I want to be myself." She chewed her lip for a moment. "Also… what if he's a serial killer?"
Hannah burst out laughing. "A serial killer? You think Grey is hiding bodies in his fancy penthouse?"
"Hey, you never know," Ana said, crossing her arms dramatically. "Who else would go through all this trouble just to impress someone? I swear, the whole thing… it's like a horror movie setup… 'Limo of Doom.'"
Hannah chuckled but then grew thoughtful. "I get that, but you're overthinking it, Ana. You can still be yourself and enjoy the night. Just because he's making an effort doesn't mean you have to change who you are." She gave Anastasia's shoulder a soft squeeze of encouragement.
"Maybe," Ana replied, tightening her arms. "But it feels like too much pressure. What if I don't meet his expectations, Hannah? I just want to hang out without feeling like I'm auditioning for 'Trapped in Luxury.'"
Hannah sighed. "Okay, okay, I see your point. But Grey is only trying to do something nice for you; he probably thinks it'll make you feel special, you know."
"I appreciate that," Anastasia said, softening a bit. "But I'd rather keep it simple. A nice dinner is enough… I don't need all the extra fluff."
"Fair enough," Hannah said, smirking. "And if he pulls any funny business, just whip out your phone and call for backup…or even better, throw a glass of wine in his face for an extra dramatic exit."
"Right. Because nothing screams 'I'm not interested' like a face full of Merlot," Ana replied, rolling her eyes but unable to hide a smile. "Guess I'll be the star of my own true crime saga: 'Anastasia Steele vs. The Penthouse Predator.'"
Hannah laughed. "You're killing me. But seriously, if he turns out to be a creep, I'll come rescue you. Just text me a code word… like 'pineapple' or something."
"Pineapple it is," Ana chuckled, picturing the scene: Grey's crisp white shirt drenched in fancy red wine, a furious look etched across his chiseled features, those icy gray eyes flickering feverishly. "I'll text you from the master bathroom while plotting my escape."
As Hannah finished curling Ana's hair, they chatted about new book releases and weekend plans, the whole thing helping Ana push aside her anxiety about the night ahead. But uncertainty still lingered as she prepared for what was supposed to be an unforgettable evening at Seattle's most eligible bachelor's penthouse.
"All done," Hannah stepped back, admiring her work. "You look gorgeous, Ana. Just remember: if he tries anything funny, you've got this."
Anastasia smirked and struck a pose. "Watch out, Mr. Grey… You may have a penthouse and a limo, but I've got snark and killer instincts."
Hannah chuckled, handing Ana's purse over. "That's the spirit. Now, go, girl, and show him what you're made of."
With one last glance in the mirror, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, Anastasia felt a surge of confidence. "Thanks for everything, Hannah," she said and hugged her friend before she opened the door.
"Go get him. And remember: if you need me, I'm just a speed dial away," Hannah smiled.
"Pineapple!"
"Got it," Hannah grinned. With a final laugh and wave, Ana stepped into the unknown, ready to face whatever awaited her at Grey's penthouse: a charming disaster or a surprise twist.