Their afternoon so far had been nothing short of perfect. The sun cast a warm glow over the water where they had spent the previous hours swimming, laughter echoing off the water as Ana playfully splashed him in her barely-there bathing suit. Afterward, she had prepared lunch, a task that surprised him with its delightful results. Ana was an exceptional cook, contradicting her claims of not cooking much. He found himself enjoying the meal as much as the company. With lunch devoured and Ana looking thoroughly relaxed, a new confidence surged within him. He felt ready to broach the subject he had been wrestling with, which he was unwilling to drop just yet.
"Having an investment in the club, surely you've spent time there?" he ventured, gauging her reaction. Ana looked amused by the question, a small victory for him; he had expected her to be annoyed by his insistence on beating a dead horse.
"I have," she replied, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made him momentarily forget his purpose. "I've watched many scenes and found every single one boring. What I do find fascinating is watching people's reactions to the scenes. Even those in the lifestyle tend to be very much in my camp." Christian nodded in understanding; he had never been one to enjoy the public displays of dominance that took place.
"The first time I watched a scene, I found myself more fascinated with the couple standing before me than what was happening on stage," Ana continued, her expression animated. "The woman became increasingly turned on, to the point of barely being able to stand. The man had to hold her up, and despite knowing exactly what was happening, he asked her if she was okay." Christian burst out laughing. "Yeah, that was nearly my reaction; I had to work to stifle it. She would have agreed to anything at that moment. I found that rather intriguing."
"And yet you find nothing about the lifestyle intriguing," Christian teased, a hint of mockery lacing his tone.
"No, I don't," Ana countered, sitting up straighter, her demeanor shifting. "But I understand the appeal it holds for some, especially regarding control." Christian smiled. Some of him still wondered if she had been lying about being an investor.
"Not enough to try it, though," he hedged, pushing her to elaborate.
"I get that for some, the illusion of control is enough," she replied, her voice steady. "But for me, knowing it's just an illusion defeats the purpose entirely."
"An illusion," Christian echoed, almost sneering at her assertion.
"Well, yes," Ana said, her tone firm as she sat up and faced him. "Let's start with the very first step. A step that effectively puts a chink in the armor of the idea of complete control. Why do you need a safe word if you have complete control?"
Christian opened his mouth to respond but shut it again, taken aback by her logic. "You need one because the idea of complete control is just that—an idea. A facade. An illusion." Ana chuckled lightly, clearly enjoying their exchange. "I remember the first time I read about it. I was nineteen and found it so perplexing that I muttered, 'This has to be some kind of a joke.' As luck would have it, my dad heard me and asked about it. Considering the subject matter, I was reluctant to tell him, but then I thought, why not? I did, and his reaction was to laugh. He said, in a sense, I was right. From an outside perspective, it would seem like a joke. But if you crave control, this is a good imitation of it. In the long run, it's better than nothing. It's an illusion, and they understand that. When it comes to BDSM, the idea of control is not real, and everybody knows that."
Ana paused, her gaze unwavering as she waited for his response, but none came. "I remember asking him if anyone could have real control over another. Yes, you can have control over yourself. It starts there, but not everyone is capable of it. Of course, he was wrong about one thing. He said everyone in your lifestyle knows the idea of control is just that—an idea. Now, I know that some don't even realize it, and the minute it's pointed out to them, they spiral out of control."
"By the look on your face, I can tell you fall in with the doms operating under the assumption that their control is real. The worst part is that BDSM is about trust, first and foremost. Yet, the likes of you could care less about that. And that's the first chink in your armor."
"There is a second, then?" he asked, attempting to inject mockery into his tone but failing as the tightness in his voice betrayed him. Ana had already struck at the core of his perceived control, and he felt the weight of her words pressing down on him.
"Yes," she replied, her voice steady. "The fact that the sub has already agreed to cede control. Again, therein lies the illusion. Mr. Grey, real control over another is not achievable without violating another's rights. To achieve true control, you have to be one sadistic piece of shit. Of course, there are those who deserve it, just so they can enjoy a taste of their own medicine. As my dad said, not many, even under those circumstances, are capable of it."
"Are you?" he asked, desperation creeping into his tone. He needed to knock her down a peg to make her realize that some control was better than none, even if it was an illusion.
"I am," Ana replied, her confidence radiating. "And above all else, Mr. Grey, when one of those sadistic son of bitches targeted my friend, they gave me carte blanche to unleash hell on him—and I did and enjoyed every second of it. Months of planning, controlling every aspect of his life. He went where I wanted him to go and did what I wanted him to do. I even had him fired because I could. His life was my playground, and boy, did I play."
Something in her tone sent a chill down Christian's spine, but as always, he pushed the warning aside, determined to maintain his façade. "So no, your idea of control holds no appeal, especially after you've experienced the real thing. Believe me, when you've experienced what I have, you'll know just how inferior your brand of control is." Her dismissive shrug added salt to the wound she had so easily inflicted.
The seconds after those words were uttered, they had haunted his every thought until Sabine turned up on Friday. He was determined to make them meaningless, to devalue them. Those words—he was determined to render every single one of her assertions inconsequential.
Standing outside the playroom, he was desperate to remove one of those chinks. There was nothing he could do about the fact that Sabine had already agreed to cede control. But he could eliminate the need for safe words by simply not asking.
With a plan in place and determination coursing through him, Christian entered the playroom and immediately began arranging his toys for the session, each click and clack resonating through his mind as he prepared himself.
"Sabine, stand," he commanded, watching as she hesitated before complying. She had been his submissive for the last three months, the woman who had kept him sane while Anastasia Steele threatened to unravel everything. Shouldn't he have known she wouldn't be a walk in the park? It had taken him over two months to get close to her, yet he somehow expected smooth sailing once they were in the same room.
No, every word out of Ana's mouth only served to splinter his tightly controlled world. Destroying that fucking superiority complex had become imperative. If he was to gain any semblance of peace and stitch his world back together, hers had to be torn apart. And it started right where he exerted control. Today, he was determined to put a chink in her fucking armor. But the universe, it seemed, had other plans. He knew it the second the whispered word pierced the silence of the room.
"Sir." Of course, it couldn't be that easy, could it?
"Sabine," he responded, eyes tightly shut as he gripped the flogger, frustration boiling within him.
"Safeword." It was almost like an out-of-body experience as he watched his own control crumble like the illusion it was.
"Indeed," he muttered, struggling to regain his composure. "This just proves my mind is still on work. I have a deal going south, and I had hoped time in here would take my mind off things. But if I can't even remember something as fundamental as your safe word, I think it's best to call it a night." He lied smoothly. Sabine smiled, appreciating his acknowledgment of his mistake, little realizing the torment brewing within him.
He sat in his office as Sabine packed her things and left for the weekend, her promise to return the following week hanging heavily in the air. She had looked at him in a new light, and worse, she had put words to it. "You are truly a Dom worthy of my submission." She had practically bowed while he felt a sick churn in his stomach.
The thoughts that haunted him now were how far he would have gone. Would he have ignored her safe word if it had come? Or would he have proven the control he exerted over himself by ensuring she never uttered it? He didn't have the answer as he knocked back another glass of his ridiculously expensive whiskey. He wasn't ready to find it, fearful of what he might discover. All Anastasia had done was stoke his ire further; she would pay for it. Yet the words felt hollow; he was no closer to inflicting the pain she was inflicting on him. He needed leverage and didn't have a clue where to find it.
Christian's frustration was evident to all. His mood that morning was beyond foul, and his unnecessary evisceration of a member of Ros' mergers team was a testament to that. The nasty look she shot him had been enough for him to lock himself in his office and cancel all appointments.
"Mr. Grey, unless you can tell me precisely what you are looking for, I can't help you. I gave you everything I could find on her," Welch replied, attempting to keep his tone in check, but Christian could hear the irritation bubbling just beneath the surface.
"Except, she has confirmed that many things on that background check are wrong. The home address you have on here is her studio. That is work, not home," Christian barked, his frustration spilling over.
"Well, if you know her and she is imparting information, why another background check? One I know it will yield no further information," Welch's sarcastic tone only served to enrage Christian more.
"YOU DON'T THINK I'VE ASKED?" Christian roared. Welch's response was an eye roll, which caused Christian to hurl a paperweight that missed Welch's head by a whisker.
"Fuck you," Welch retorted, ready to storm out of the office.
He wasn't stupid enough to let Welch walk away despite his anger. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for."
"She really has gotten under your skin," he said softly, an understanding look in his eyes.
"That's putting it lightly," Christian admitted, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him.
"What do you want from her?" Welch asked, his tone shifting to one of genuine curiosity.
"What do you mean?" Christian asked, feeling defensive. He wanted nothing from her. No, he needed her to fall into his trap, but that proved impossible.
"Do you want her as a submissive, a girlfriend, just a fuck her to get her out of your system? What do you want? Because a background isn't going to help with any of that if the current state of things is any indication." Welch took his hand off the doorknob, clearly willing to engage in this conversation.
"You want my advice? Write this one off and move on, or put a surveillance team on her. I can't see how else to gain more information." For the first time since Friday night, Christian felt his shoulders drop, his tension easing slightly at the prospect of a plan.
"Did you tell him?" Taylor asked, getting into the elevator with Welch.
"I do not know if her father is still in play. We both know the consequences if we say anything, and he is still in the game. Grey doesn't pay me enough for me to bury myself like that. The fact that you haven't told him either says it all." Welch gave Taylor a pointed look. "What is the sudden interest in her?"
"I have no idea. She is friends with her brother, but I don't know if it has anything to do with that. He is failing miserably if he wants her in any way, shape, or form."
"You don't say." That was obvious to all. His continued unraveling was evidence enough. "Even if he has no idea who her father is, knowing she is a Wilkes would be enough for any sensible man to walk away. He has nothing good in mind, and you know it." Taylor had no idea what his boss was up to. He knew he showed Ana the playroom, but nothing materialized from it. He seemed to be trying to woo her and having very little success. Whatever the boss was up to, he prayed it didn't come back and bite them all in the ass because no one wanted Raymond Steele on the warpath.