Christian could no longer ignore the unsettling feeling that had been slowly creeping in over the past two weeks. Ana had canceled on him five times during that time. She hadn't canceled tonight, but it felt as if she might as well have; she seemed lost in thought, her gaze wandering to the window where the city lights twinkled in the darkness. Did she even realize how much effort he was putting into this? The time he had set aside for their evening together was squandered as she stared out, seeming more enthralled with the outside world than with him. Did she find him dull?
Was she losing interest in him? In them? The thought gnawed at him like a persistent itch he couldn't scratch, igniting a spiral of self-doubt that he desperately tried to dismiss. Two and a half months had passed, yet he felt no closer to his endgame. In the beginning, he had believed that the conclusion, a thorough fucking would happen within mere days; however, ten weeks later, everything seemed to have slowed down, stagnating in a way that felt oppressive. It bothered him because this suddenly felt more than a game. The thought unnerved him, and he was quick to relegate it to the deep recesses of his mind. No, this was simply him reeling from his failure, as he'd made no inroads to getting close to his objectives. He certainly couldn't break her heart if he didn't have it to begin with.
"I am clearly boring you," Christian teased lightly, hoping his words would elicit some spark of denial, some excuse related to the stresses of her work.
When she finally glanced at him, he could have sworn it was with reluctance, as if the view outside was infinitely more captivating than his company. Her response struck him hard, "You are." The truth of her words hung in the air between them like a heavy fog, a blinding inconvenience. "I will admit I am disappointed. I expected so much more from you, and perhaps that was my mistake." Finally, her full attention was on him for the first time in weeks, and it felt like a slap in the face. Had she truly lost interest weeks ago, and he had been too consumed by his own desires and arrogance to notice?
"'Now, let me impart onto you a sobering dose of reality. You are way too messed up to have a hope in hell with Ana. I'm not threatened by you in any way, shape, or form, especially where she is concerned. You stand about as much chance with her as an insect falling down an ant colony and managing to survive. You might have mastered the charade of being the 'master of the universe,' but we both know better. I know just how screwed up you are, and worse still, you make zero effort to get any better. You've got a list of psychological problems that would make Jeffrey Dahmer shudder in discomfort. Most people might be fooled by that handsome exterior, but Ana is not one of them. She can see that underneath it all, there's just no substance. Do yourself a favor and go embarrass yourself somewhere else.'"
Christian's mind raced back to that conversation, a verbal undoing he'd rather forget. The words that had set all this in motion. "I learned to lip read at seven. I caught most of that conversation, at least from Elliot's end. You had your back to me, but that mattered little; I caught the gist of it," Ana said, interrupting his thoughts. His heart sank as her words rang in his ears, a harsh reminder of his own inadequacies.
"It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know you'd attempt to prove him wrong. How best to achieve that? By making it clear, despite knowing those words to be true, that he was wrong by coming after me. By winning me over and then what, throwing me aside like the used rag." She stared at him, eyes unflinching. "Even knowing what I was capable of… it left me thinking you'd prove to be quite the challenge." Her disappointed sigh cut more profoundly than the harshest critique. "Even though you'd hired the most inept surveillance team to tail me in New York." She burst into laughter, the sound bright yet taunting. "Luke spotted them at the airport. All three of them crammed into the same car they used every single day. It made tracking their movement a breeze."
Every word she spoke ignited fresh irritation within him. The truth of her words ate away at him. He gritted his against lashing out, knowing so much worse was to come. "I looked forward to your reaction once you learned I went to a BDSM club with my former professor. But you showed just how green you truly are at this game. Did you even bother to do any research before deciding I was a Dominant?" Her laughter only deepened his frustration, causing his teeth to grind together.
"It would seem your background checks are far more thorough," he groused. "That advantage worked well for you," he conceded grumpily.
"Oh, I had no idea you were into BDSM; that came later," she replied with mock sincerity, though he suspected she hadn't meant it that way. "As I said, I'm an investor in the club, and my visit was planned well in advance. Whether you had me followed or not, my plans would have remained unchanged," Ana revealed, her voice steady. "You jumped to the conclusion that I was Dominant, which caught me completely off guard. Watching you racking your brain, trying to find a justification for that, was just downright comical. I felt so sorry for you that I had to give you an opening. You jumped on it so fast that it took everything in me not to lose it.
It became quickly apparent that you came into this a complete novice; worse, you did not even bother to learn the basic rules before you jumped in head first. You must have spent weeks finding that painting, and yet you made no effort to learn the rules. The fact that you can read a woman's body when it comes to sex does not mean you can read a woman. We are a hell of a lot more complex than that. Every phone call, you'd dig a hole that I was to fall into, only for you to jump in head first, which soon became tedious. Unfortunately, it seemed that would be the theme with you: dig a hole, jump in, Ana to the rescue. How you never picked up on my constant bailing you out is beyond me." The words stung more than he let on, and he hated himself for it.
"I am genuinely disappointed that a man of your business caliber is so inept when it comes to the personal," she chastised him. "It didn't take me long to realize you'd never experienced a traditional relationship. You've never gone on dates, never wooed a woman, and you most certainly have never had to persuade one to drop her panties. Did you think showing me that excuse for a playroom was all it took? Come on, Mr. Grey, you can't be that ignorant."
And in that moment, Christian felt truly exposed. For the first time in what seemed like forever, words failed him. Ana's assessment had cut to the very core of his being; he had entered this game blind and lost before it even began. How had he let it come to this?
He searched desperately for the words that might grant him a fleeting sense of triumph, but the silence weighed heavy in the air, mocking him. None of the phrases he conjured could bridge the chasm of his defeat; it was a loss so profound it felt as if the ground had shifted beneath him. There was no snatching even the thinnest of victories from the jaws of defeat he had so thoroughly lost.
He knew she had so much more to say, so much more to tear his world asunder, but he didn't have it in him to hear anymore. "Taylor will show you out," he muttered, more to himself than to her, as he headed toward the sanctuary of his office.
"Not necessary," she replied, her tone flat and devoid of emotion. It was a stark contrast to the whirlwind of feelings raging inside him.
With a barely contained fury, he shut the door with a decisive thud and stared at the city beyond the glass wall. He could feel the heat of anger rising within him, burning hotter than before. "Who does she think she is…" The thought spiraled in his mind, the indignation fueling his every heartbeat.
In a sudden burst of fury, he bolted from the office, his thoughts raging to get the last word, words to cut her down to his level. He raced towards the elevator, desperation propelling him forward, only to find the doors sliding closed. With a fierce determination, he lunged forward, his hand reaching out in a futile attempt to stop the doors from closing. But it was too late; the doors shut tightly, indifferent to his urgency. Pounding the button with his fist, he felt a surge of frustration that left him gasping for breath. He hurled a silent curse at the heavens, the weight of his rage pressing down on him. It was a useless gesture; the damage had already been inflicted, and he was left standing there, trapped in a cage of his own making, simmering with unresolved anger and frustration.
The next morning found Christian still in bed, enveloped in a fog of confusion and regret. He lay there, unable to summon the will to even answer Taylor's persistent calls. Eventually, he relented, realizing that his boss was indeed alive and still in bed. It had become painfully clear that his so-called game hadn't been much of a game at all. This realization struck him hard; it had come after Ana had canceled their dates. For the first time, he genuinely missed her presence, the warmth she brought to his otherwise cold existence.
No matter what he told himself, last night had been a turning point; he found himself ready to take a chance, a move solidified by his decision to end his contract with Sabine. This was a significant step for Christian, who had always kept his relationships compartmentalized and, truthfully, transactional. He had never imagined that Ana had known the truth from the beginning—that he was playing a game he was wholly inept at. The thought that she had expected a challenge and found him lacking was a bitter pill to swallow.
He felt utterly inadequate, especially lying in a bed where he had envisioned Ana screaming his name in pleasure. A humorless chuckle escaped him, a mix of self-deprecation and disbelief at his own naivety.
With a sudden surge of determination, he bolted out of bed. Surely, Ana would give him a chance to explain, a chance to inform her of his change of heart. He didn't feel he deserved it, but the thought of a second chance kept echoing in his mind. Renewed vigor coursed through him as he showered and dressed in his Sunday best, as grandpa Theo would often say. He headed to her studio, hope flickering in his chest. Hope was the abiding feeling as he drove to her studio. It was another half an hour before she parked behind him.
As he drove home, a sense of defeat had thoroughly enveloped him. Home, he realized that what he called home was merely a penthouse—walls and a roof over his head, devoid of warmth or comfort. Ana had once observed, "Even with you standing in the room if asked who lived here, I couldn't tell you." Her words haunted him, a stark reminder of the emotional void he had created around himself.
In a moment of distraction, he found himself at the marina, standing on the deck of The Grace, staring out at the water. The gentle lapping of the waves contrasted sharply with the turmoil inside him. Her dismissal had hurt him, and he'd resorted to threats, only for her to issue her own. Hers, he knew, would be the more damning. His phone rang again, and this time he checked it. All he had left was GEH, and he couldn't let that fall apart.
But every call, text, and voice message was from Elena. A wave of sadness washed over him. Who else would call him? He had promised her a two million dollar loan, and the papers were due to be signed an hour ago. He had completely forgotten about it. Why else would she reach out? It wasn't as though she called to check on his well-being.
In truth, he had no desire to hear her false platitudes and concern. Then it hit him: everything about Elena was false. Her concern, her so-called friendship, her guilt—it was all a façade. This realization was unsettling, especially in light of Louis' story, which had unnerved him because he recognized the same patterns of deceit.
With a newfound clarity, he realized he had a few calls to make. Elliot's words have spurred him into action, but they only led him to the wrong kind of response. Now, it was time for the right kind of action.
HELP.