And where is the good in goodbye?
Chapters of Trust
by
Ava LeBeau
Fifteen
Anastasia sat on the edge of her bed, replaying the kiss with Christian in her mind, the memory of his lips on hers feeling intense, but still a lot of uncertainty came with it.
A whirlwind of emotions swirled within her as she picked up her phone, her thumb hovering over his name in her contacts. Should she call him? The thought sent a rush of warmth through her, but doubt quickly followed. "Let him reach out first," Hannah had advised. Besides, what would she even say?
The sun had barely crested the horizon, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and orange, as Christian stepped out of the Escala. The early morning chill nipped at his skin and he paused for a moment on the threshold, taking a deep breath of the cool air, savoring the quiet stillness of the neighborhood waking up.
His personal trainer, Claude, was already stretching outside the building, his muscles taut and defined like a Spartan ready for battle. With a nod of acknowledgment, Christian unleashed a series of dynamic stretches of his own, swinging his legs back and forth in front of him and then performing high knees to elevate his heart rate before he bent to stretch his hamstrings, leaning forward to touch his toes. The subtle pull in his muscles reminded him of the countless hours he had dedicated to honing his physique. Rising back up, Christian rolled his shoulders and did a few arm circles to loosen his body, preparing for the upcoming run.
"Ready?" Claude asked, his tone professional and focused, a reminder of the role he maintained even in this casual setting.
Christian straightened up and nodded. "Let's go."
They took off down the tree-lined streets, the rhythmic pounding of their feet echoing off the quiet buildings. Claude led the way, his strides long and powerful, while Christian kept a steady pace beside him. Grey's thoughts, however, drifted away from the run, drawn toward Anastasia and their kiss. At first he'd wanted to reach out, but had decided against it in the end, convinced that he was reading too much into it. What if the kiss had just been a fleeting moment for her, a spark that would fizzle out in no time anyway? But there was still that pull, an urge to reach out, yet with each passing moment the distance between them grew, their worlds separate and way too different, both seemingly unwilling to take the leap into the unknown.
Anastasia's bookshop came into view and Christian's heart raced, not just from the exertion of running, but from thoughts of Ana, the girl who brought unexpected spark to his mostly structured life.
As they approached, his gaze was caught by a large portrait displayed prominently in the window. Anastasia stood there, captured mid-laugh in a candid moment, her auburn hair cascading in waves around her shoulders, her ocean blue eyes alive with passion and warmth. Beneath the glow of the morning sun, she looked almost ethereal, as if time stood still whenever she smiled.
Without breaking stride, Grey slowed his pace, executing a series of quick, agile skips as he pretended to work on his footwork drills. Claude, oblivious to Christian's deliberate slowdown, picked up speed and ran past him, calling out, "You're getting slower, Grey. Catch up!"
The trainer's words echoed down the street as he disappeared into the distance, leaving Christian alone for a moment. Seizing the opportunity, he slowed his skips, allowing himself to linger in front of the bookshop window. He stood there, eyes locked on the portrait, absorbing Ana's radiant smile and the carefree joy it embodied. He could almost hear her laughter, feel the comfort of her presence.
For a fleeting instant, Grey stood still, lost in the beauty of her portrait. His chest rose and fell with each slow, deliberate breath, his gaze never wavering from the image. The morning world, with its gentle breeze and chirping birds, faded into the background as he stood there, captivated by the woman in the photograph.
But the spell was broken when Claude's distant shout echoed back, "Hey, don't fall behind, man," reminding Grey of their commitment to fitness without a hint of impatience. Startled back to reality, Christian sprang into action, accelerating his footwork drills into a furious series of jumps, his legs pumping with renewed energy. He felt the rush of adrenaline course through his veins, and with it, he regained his pace.
In a burst of speed, Christian caught up and met Claude's gaze with a smirk, dismissing the challenge with a light breath. "Just getting warmed up," he said, his heart still racing both from the run and the memory of the portrait. Soon, the bookshop faded from view behind him as they continued their run, each stride purposeful and strong, yet thoughts of Anastasia lingered, a siren's call that would haunt his every step for the rest of the run.
Water still glistened in his tousled hair as Grey walked into the open kitchen, the sunlight that filled the expansive room spilling across his broad shoulders, casting shadows that highlighted the defined planes of his back. A pair of sweatpants hung low on his hips, only accentuating his athletic build more.
Grey's gaze swept over the breakfast spread on the center island, Gail sure had prepared an impeccable arrangement, laid out only for him. He stepped closer to lift an ornate silver cloche, and watched as the fragrant steam danced upward, revealing a perfectly plated omelet with spinach and smoked salmon. There was also a tray of neatly arranged fruits and artisan cheeses alongside Greek yogurt with a drizzle of honey, and a side of mixed berries.
Christian grabbed a glass of cold water and moved to the kitchen island. As he settled down on a stool, his gaze flicked to his phone on the countertop: he had a call to make.
With a firm swipe, he dialed José Rodriguez's number, irritation already brewing at the back of his mind. The phone rang twice before José picked up. "Yes?"
"Christian Grey," Christian said, his tone gruff and devoid of patience for niceties.
"Where did you get my number?" José asked.
"Let's just say I have my sources. By the way, your internet presence really needs a revamp… I know a few very talente—"
"I'm not interested, Grey," José cut him short. "What do you want?"
"I need that portrait of Anastasia Steele," Christian demanded, almost hearing the sneer forming on José's face.
"And why would I sell that to you?"
"Because I don't ask twice," Christian replied, his dominance unmistakable. There were no frills, no friendly banter, just an undeniable command.
"I'm not sellin' it. Not to you." Annoyance was evident in José's voice.
"Stop making this difficult, Rodriguez," Christian said, maintaining a steady calm that belied the frustration underneath. "I'm prepared to pay whatever you ask."
"Whatever, huh? You think I'm just gonna hand it over because you throw money at me?" José retorted, his voice growing sharper. "You really think that makes a difference?"
Christian paused, taking a bite of his omelet, the flavors bursting in his mouth as he considered his next move. "It does if you know what's good for you. You really want to play hardball with me? Let's not pretend this is some moral dilemma."
José scoffed, but there was uncertainty behind his bravado. "I don't know, man. You're just—"
"Look," Christian interrupted, his tone cutting through the rising tension. "I'm serious. Name your price, and I'll pay it. I need that portrait."
Another long silence stretched between them, the weight of Grey's words leaden in the air. Finally, José relented, though the reluctance was palpable. "Fine. I'll think about it."
"Do more than think," Christian said sharply.
"How about I give you the picture, and in return, you promise to finally leave Ana and the bookshop alone for good?" José said all of a sudden.
"You know I can't do that, Rodriguez," there was an uncomfortable silence before Christian said, "I expect to hear from you soon."
He cut off the line with a decisive click, placing the phone down with controlled precision before he returned to his meal, but irritation simmered beneath his composed exterior. The sight of the breakfast spread suddenly seemed less inviting, yet Christian forced himself to take another bite of the omelet, its richness filling him with energy as he sat in silence. A sudden determination settled over him; he knew that he would get the portrait, he was certain of it, and nothing would stand in his way.
Four days had passed, and Anastasia was positive that Grey was ghosting her. No messages, no calls, just an oppressive silence. She convinced herself it was for the best; Christian Grey wasn't worth any more of her energy, and time would extinguish the lingering flame.
As she rearranged the display of new arrivals in the bookshop, a messenger stepped through the door, a small envelope in hand. Ana raised an eyebrow, intrigued by who might send her a letter in this digital age. The messenger smiled briefly before handing it to her and turning to leave.
Upon taking the envelope, she noticed an elegant logo emblazoned on the front; it was clearly from someone unexpected. A mix of excitement and apprehension coursed through her as she carefully opened it, wondering what news lay within.
Her hands trembled, and her heart sank with each word she read. The letter, addressed to her and embossed with the official logo of Grey's legal team, was a stark reminder of the moment she had dreaded for weeks. As her eyes scanned the page, the words blurred together, tears welling up and distorting her vision. Yet the message was unmistakable, crashing over her like an icy wave, dragging her into an abyss of despair. The weight of her livelihood, dreams, and security crumbled beneath her; every decision, every sacrifice, every late night and early morning felt utterly futile.
Anastasia stumbled backward, collapsing into the chair by the counter, the letter still clutched tightly in her hand. A cold, dark shroud enveloped her, suffocating her very essence. For what felt like an eternity, she sat there, numb and frozen, struggling to process the crushing news. Her gaze swept across the room as if searching for a lifeline or a glimmer of hope. But all that met her was the bleak reality staring back: a future stripped of stability, suddenly and mercilessly uncertain.
Sat in her small office, the weight of the letter still pressed down on her. Anger and determination surged within her as she read the words again, realizing just how far Christian was willing to go to crush her spirit. But she wasn't going to back down without a fight.
Ana's thoughts turned to Ray and his best friend ever since their days in the military, one of the most prominent lawyers in the city: Alec Hale. Known for his fierce courtroom presence and his long-standing rivalry with Carrick Grey, Alec had gained a reputation for taking on powerful opponents and winning. If anyone could help her stand up to Christian Grey, it was him.
With a deep breath, Anastasia quickly composed a new email.
Subject: Urgent Assistance Needed
Dear Alec,
I hope this message finds you well. I'm reaching out because I find myself in an unexpected and troubling situation with Christian Grey regarding my bookshop. He has sent me a letter threatening legal action if I do not vacate the premises immediately to finally make way for his development project.
I've attached their letter for your review. Given your expertise in these matters, I would greatly appreciate your guidance and support.
I understand that hiring a lawyer can be costly, and I'm embarrassed to admit that I may not be able to afford your services right now. But any help you could offer would mean so much to me.
Thank you for considering this. I know you're busy, but I really need your help.
Best regards,
Ana
After hitting send, Anastasia felt a flicker of hope mixed with anxiety about asking for help. Within minutes, her phone buzzed with an incoming call from Hale.
"Ana… I just saw your email," he said. "This is outrageous. It sounds like he's trying to intimidate you into submission. We can't let him get away with that. You shouldn't have to deal with this."
"I didn't know who else to turn to," Anastasia said, feeling a wave of relief wash over her but also embarrassment creeping in.
"Don't worry about the costs," Alec said firmly. "I'll take this on pro bono. We'll fight back against Grey together."
She hesitated for a moment. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose…"
"Absolutely," he insisted, cutting off her protest. "This isn't just about your bookshop; it's about standing up against bullies like him."
Anastasia took a moment to gather her thoughts, knowing that she had a formidable ally in her corner.
"I really appreciate you doing this."
"Of course," he said. "Let's get right to it. I want to understand exactly what Grey is threatening and how we can counteract it."
Ana took a deep breath and recounted the details of the whole situation, emphasizing how it made her feel cornered and powerless.
Once she finished, Anastasia said, "What do you think our best course of action is?"
"I suggest we draft a response that clearly outlines your rights as a business owner," Hale explained. "We'll also gather evidence of your contributions to the community; how your bookshop supports local authors and fosters creativity. That will strengthen your position."
"Sounds great," Ana said, feeling more confident with each passing moment.
"And don't worry about costs," Alec added. "I'm here to help you navigate this without any financial burden on your end."
"Thank you so much, Alec. I can't tell you how much this means to me."
Christian walked back to his car, phone pressed to his ear. The city buzzed around him, but inside, it felt like a hurricane was brewing.
"What's on your mind?" Flynn's voice came through.
"I don't know. Everything feels off since the kiss with Ana." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up. "I can't stop dreaming, more than usual… and not in a good way, Flynn. I mean, it's not just about her. It's all these… dark things. The nightmares… it feels like they're dragging me under."
"Dragging you under?" Flynn asked, his tone even but attentive. "Can you describe them?"
Christian hesitated, his jaw tightened as the memories flooded back uninvited. "It's like I'm trapped in my past. With the demons from that night creeping in, twisting everything I thought I'd left behind." He swallowed hard and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut briefly. "And now this kiss… it's like it opened a door I didn't want to open."
"Dreams often reflect emotional struggles," Flynn said carefully. "They can be a way for our subconscious to process unresolved feelings or fears. The kiss may have stirred something deeper within you."
"Yeah, well, it feels more like a curse than a revelation," Christian said bitterly. "I thought maybe it would be different, maybe I could finally let someone in."
The therapist paused for a moment before responding, his voice measured. "Vulnerability is difficult, especially when past experiences have taught you to guard yourself closely. Have you thought about reaching out to her? It could be an opportunity for growth."
"What if she thinks I'm just some rich guy playing games? I wouldn't want to put her in a position where she feels used or caught up in my issues," Christian's voice cracked slightly, revealing the vulnerability he tried so hard to suppress.
"Or perhaps she sees you as someone who is willing to take a risk," Flynn suggested gently but firmly. "You won't know until you try. Avoiding the situation will only prolong your discomfort."
The weight of indecision hung heavy in the air between them and it took Christian a moment to admit, "I don't want to mess this up, Flynn."
"Messing up is part of being human," Flynn said, his tone unwavering but compassionate. "It's how we learn and grow. You deserve that chance with her, regardless of the outcome."
"Okay," Christian relented, though doubt still clung to him like a shadow. "I'll think about it."
"Good," Flynn said. "Remember, progress isn't always linear. It's okay to feel uncertain."
Christian nodded, even though Flynn couldn't see him. "Thanks, I guess." He felt a flicker of resolve but knew it was fragile.
They wrapped up the call, and Christian slid into the driver's seat, heart racing as he pulled out onto the road toward his office building.
He fished his phone from his pocket and dialed Anastasia's number, anticipation thrumming in his veins like a live wire. The ringing echoed in his ears before it cut off abruptly. Voicemail.
"Hey, it's Christian…," he started but stopped short as silence filled the space where her voice should have been. The weight of unspoken words pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating. But soon enough frustration bubbled again as he hung up and gripped the steering wheel tighter.
What was he doing?
Christian could almost hear Flynn's voice in his head: Vulnerability is difficult.
But wasn't that the point? He had spent so long building walls around himself, convinced that wealth could shield him from pain. Yet here he was, feeling more exposed than ever.
As Christian navigated through the streets, memories of his childhood flashed before him: dark rooms, muffled voices, his birth mother screaming, shady silhouettes lurking just out of sight. Those nightmares were relentless; they clawed at him every night, reminding him of everything he wanted to forget.
Christian pulled into the parking garage of Grey house and sat there for a moment, staring at the dashboard. The world outside felt distant and unreal. He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself.
Reaching for his phone again, he hesitated before dialing Anastasia's number once more. This time, he wouldn't let fear dictate his actions. As the phone rang again, each tone felt like a countdown to something monumental.
But when her voicemail picked up again, Hey! You've reached Ana…, Christian's heart sank deeper than before.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath as he ended the call. He leaned back against the seat, frustration morphing into despair. What if she never picked up? What if she didn't want to hear from him?
He closed his eyes for a second, trying to block out the world around him, the life that continued on without him. In that silence, he felt the weight of his own thoughts nearly suffocating him, crushing him harder than ever and for a heartbeat he felt utterly lost. The dreams, the nightmares, and now this: his heart felt like it was caught in a vice grip. He'd spent so long avoiding connection, convinced that isolation was safer. But now, standing on the precipice of something real with Anastasia, he realized how desperately he craved it.
With a deep breath, Christian opened his eyes and glanced at the phone again. He could either let fear win or take a step forward into uncertainty. He thought about Flynn's words again: Vulnerability is difficult. But maybe it was also where true strength lay.
He took another breath and decided to send her a text instead.
Hey Ana, I've been thinking about us…
Can we talk? I'd really like to see you.
After hitting send, Christian felt a mix of relief and anxiety wash over him. It was out there now, an invitation into the unknown. He didn't know what would happen next, he didn't even know if she would respond. But for the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of hope amidst the chaos.
As Christian stepped out of the Audi and approached the elevator, he felt a surge of determination. Confronting his fears wouldn't erase his past or guarantee a perfect future, but it was a start, a small step toward breaking free from the shadows that had haunted him for too long. Just as the elevator doors slid open, his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Seeing Ana's name light up the screen sent a rush of elation through him. Finally, a chance to connect.
"Hey," he said, but as soon as she answered, that joy crumbled into despair.
"Don't ever call me again, Christian," her voice sounded harsh yet oddly choked.
"Ana? What are you talking about?" he blurted out, confusion flooding his voice. "What do you mean?"
But her words continued to pour out, sharp and unyielding. "You know, what's done in the dark always comes to light, Christian. You've crossed a line I can't ignore. Goodbye Christian."
The line went dead before Christian could respond, leaving him reeling.
"Ana? Ana!" Panic surged through him as he tried to grasp what had just happened.
What had driven her to this point? His brow furrowed, he stared at his phone in disbelief, desperate for answers but knowing she wouldn't elaborate. The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, leaving him utterly lost.
With a shaky breath, he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for his office floor. As the doors closed, Christian leaned against the mirrored wall, trying to steady himself. The familiar hum of the machinery felt distant and surreal. His mind raced with questions and doubts, each one more unsettling than the last. Christian raked his fingers through his hair, feeling the tension knotting in his stomach.
When the elevator finally reached his floor, he straightened up and forced himself to step out. But even as he walked toward his office, barely acknowledging his PA and other staff, an unsettling sense of unease lingered in the back of his mind. Something had shifted irrevocably between them, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was losing her for good.
It wasn't long before the pieces fell into place, revealing the source of Anastasia's irritation. Still pale and somewhat shaken, Christian found himself sitting at his desk, when a message pinged on his computer screen. As he opened the email, dread washed over him.
"I am writing to you in my capacity as legal counsel for Ms. Anastasia Steele. It has come to my attention that eviction proceedings have been initiated against my client. This letter serves as a formal demand for the immediate cessation of all eviction actions," Christian read aloud. "The basis for these proceedings appears to lack sufficient justification and may be in violation of local housing laws and regulations. My client has consistently complied with all obligations under the lease agreement…," he paused for a moment. "What the hell, Marc?"
Christian started pacing his office, holding a copy of the email in his left.
"Please be advised that should you choose to continue with these proceedings, we will not hesitate to pursue all available legal remedies to protect my client's rights. This may include seeking injunctive relief and damages resulting from any unlawful eviction attempts. I strongly recommend that you reconsider your position on this matter. Should you wish to discuss this further, I am available at your earliest convenience. Sincerely, Alec Hale," that muscle in Christian's jaw jumped.
"Hale, Marc. Alec Fuckin' Hale! Who the hell made you send this letter? Who?"
"Christian, I—"
"Now, can't you give me a straight answer anymore? Who made you send the fucking letter?" Christian snapped, his voice cracking with barely contained anger.
"Your father sent us a draft while you were in New York, Christian."
"This is gonna blow up in our faces, Marc. And you're gonna regret this."
A/N: As always, huge thank you for all the wonderful reviews and encouragement you've been sending my way. I hope you like my latest update, let me know what you think. x