Elliot had never been more grateful for a crack of dawn concrete pour; it meant he had the rest of the day to himself. The early morning sun filtered through the clouds, casting an orange glow on his white kitchen counter. He stared at the world outside as he drank his coffee, his thoughts occupied by Christian. For a few minutes, he could pretend his doubts did not exist. He needed to talk to someone and knew just to talk to. Yet, in his eagerness, he hadn't once considered that Ana might not be so receptive to his 8 a.m. invasion of her home.
"You are usually up by now and getting ready to head to the studio," he argued, trying to inject some cheer into his voice.
"Well, today I'm having a lie-in," Ana retorted, her voice muffled beneath the duvet she had thrown over her head, effectively signaling her desire to return to sleep.
"Come on… but I have news," he pleaded, leaning against her bedroom doorframe, his excitement barely contained.
"Your brother coming home isn't news," she shot back, her tone laced with sleep and irritation. Why was he surprised that she knew?
"Don't you want to know what we talked about?" he teased, hoping to pique her curiosity.
"Nope," she mumbled, her resolve firm. "Go home and come back at a reasonable hour. I would be more inclined to let you up if you return with Gail's steak sandwich."
"Mr. Grey." Luke's voice cut through their banter. He was standing in the doorway, ready to usher him out. Kate had warned him about the consequences of waking Ana up, and he was learning those consequences firsthand.
Now, he had to figure out how to get Gail to make him a steak sandwich without Christian finding out.
Arriving at Escala felt surreal; he hadn't been there in nearly four years. The lobby looked almost the same, but the concierge was a face he didn't recognize. "Elliot Grey for Christian Grey," he murmured, the name still heavy on his tongue.
"Of course, Mr. Grey, the elevator on the right. You will be let up." The concierge nodded absent-mindedly. The last time he had been there, they were told they were on the proscribed list—banished from his brother's life. They had left without much argument, and his mother had cried the entire journey back home.
His anger at the memory was etched on his features when the elevator doors slid open. "Is something the matter? Did you have any trouble coming up?" Taylor asked, noting Elliot's scowl.
"No, I had no trouble coming up," he mumbled, his tone clipped, unwilling to delve into the past.
"He went for a swim; he should be back soon, or I can let him know you are here," Taylor offered, trying to be helpful.
"No need, I will…" His voice trailed off as he stepped further into the great room. Gone were the stark white walls and minimalist furniture that had characterized Christian's former home. Instead, the walls were a warm white, and the white leather sofa had been replaced with a large, inviting sectional. What struck him most was the throw pillows and blankets draped carelessly over the couch, a sign of comfort and a homey touch. But nothing could have prepared Elliot for the wall of pictures that greeted him. It was a collage of family memories—summer holidays, birthdays, and snapshots of laughter. Christian had always loathed family gatherings, especially their summer holiday excursions; now it was clear; he had been torn away from Elena fucking Lincoln for weeks at a time. A few were from Coping Together, and some from GEH. There were a few framed magazine articles thrown in there. There was no mistaking who lived there now.
"When did this happen?" Elliot asked, his anger dissipating to be replaced by a sense of awe.
"Over the last few months," Taylor replied. "He called three months after he left for the first time with instructions to hire an interior designer. After several weeks, this was the end result."
"Ana, what did you do?" Elliot whispered, a mix of admiration and confusion coloring his tone.
"Shouldn't it be what you did?" Gail asked, her voice unexpected, startling both men who clearly hadn't heard her approach. "It was your words that set all this in motion," she added, crossing her arms with authority.
"Feel like helping with a bribe?" Elliot asked, raising an eyebrow, not quite sure what to expect.
Gail chuckled at the request. "Sure, why not."
"Thanks. If you can meet me in the lobby at noon with one of our steak sandwiches, that would be great," Elliot said as he made his way out, a weight lifting from his shoulders.
"Are you not staying?" Taylor asked, his voice laced with curiosity.
"No." Elliot left without an explanation. He had no idea what to say to his brother if he found him there. Just being in that lobby had revived memories he wished had never resurfaced.
"Do I even want to know how you managed it?" Ana asked, taking a bite of the sandwich to check its authenticity.
"He was out when I got there. I asked for the sandwich and left," Elliot mumbled, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. "The last time I was there… before today, I mean…" Ana nodded, understanding the implication. "I was there with my parents. He had put us on the proscribed list. We were told to leave or be escorted out by security. Just the reminder of that day brought back so much anger. The thing is…"
"You don't believe he's changed." Elliot's sinking shoulders were answer enough.
"Some situation will throw him completely out of his comfort zone, and he will run back to her because his need for control is more important. It's all well and good saying you understand why you did what you did in a controlled environment, but what does it mean out here? Understanding doesn't mean the ability to execute," Elliot raged, frustration simmering beneath his words.
"Only time will tell." Ana understood where Elliot was coming from. His brother's actions weren't easily forgotten. Forgiveness was sometimes easy because it couldn't be helped, but forgetting? That was an entirely different animal. "Despite how you feel or think things will pan out… are you willing to give him a chance?" She took another bite of her sandwich, wishing for once she could enjoy her meal without the added angst. Or maybe it was the angst that made it taste so good.
"Well, that would suck," she muttered, unaware she had spoken out loud.
"What?" Elliot asked, turning to her with raised brows.
"Nothing, just debating the merits of what makes a tasty sandwich," she mumbled, a sheepish grin spreading across her face.
"It's a sandwich, Ana," Elliot said, rolling his eyes.
"I have no qualms about kicking you out," she threatened, though they both knew she wouldn't. "You can't keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. If you want to give your brother a chance, do it. I will say this. Whatever anger you feel, clear the air first." Ana advised. "As for Lincoln, he can't go back to her if there's nothing to return to," she added nonchalantly.
Elliot had nothing to say except throw himself at her in a hug. "Watch the sandwich," Ana groused, half-laughing, half-annoyed.
"Sorry," he chuckled, pulling back. Rumor has it Lincoln put her house on the market, " he said after a while.
"Yep, and it sold a mere two weeks later," Ana informed him, her tone indifferent.
"So, she got the money she needed. That house would easily fetch two million," Elliot muttered angrily. The thought of Elena Lincoln coming out on top in any way did not sit well with him.
"I said the house sold; I didn't say she got the money she needed. The one hug was enough," Ana warned before Elliot even thought to move closer again. She knew him well.
"I take it there's no point in asking how you relieved her of her money?" Elliot asked, his smile a mile wide.
"You know me well," Ana said, taking another bite of her sandwich. "More importantly, I didn't do anything. I made a phone call and asked if it was possible." Elena had been wise enough to keep her money in the bank this time, not that it helped.
"I don't care as long as she suffers," Elliot groused, his voice low and fierce. "How did you know he was back?"
"He threatened me. I don't take my eye off people who threaten me," Ana replied with an air of nonchalance that belied the seriousness of someone like Christian Grey threatening you.
Elliot's nod told Ana he knew precisely what had transpired the day his brother flew to England.
"Anyway, we don't have much happening for the next couple of weeks, so take your time," Roz said during a quick call with Christian.
"Thanks, Roz." Christian ended the call, staring out the window, his thoughts wandering to Ana. His anger had long ago dissipated, replaced by a sense of awe and admiration for her resilience. He had no idea how to proceed or even approach her. Then he remembered how he had threatened her because she had made him feel so small. Now, understanding her actions, he realized she hadn't made him small; he had put himself there. There was so much he had allowed, thinking he was in control when, in reality, he wasn't even in control of himself.
A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. "Come in."
To Welch, Christian's home was a mystery; he'd visited the man's home only once. He had helped set up the security system when Grey first purchased it. Back then, it had been an empty space with white walls that echoed. Something told him that was how the boss's home would remain, white and stark. Well, for once, he'd been wrong about the man.
"Gentlemen, sit down," Christian instructed. Taylor sat before Christian's desk while Welch chose the sofa against the wall. The further he was from the explosion he knew was about to come, the better.
"Did you know who Ana's father and uncle were when I asked you to do a background check on her?" Christian asked, his voice low.
"Yes," Welch answered, his tone cautious.
"And you didn't think to warn me?" Christian murmured, his frustration palpable.
"Would you have listened?" Taylor interjected, his gaze steady.
"No," Christian answered with a chuckle. "No, I would have told you to find a way around it," he admitted, shocking Welch.
"FYI, I did find a way around, but it made no difference," Welch replied, his tone serious. "When you ask for a background check, I simply send the name you provide to a company, and they give me the requested information. The best company is owned by Raymond Steele. Naturally, when you ask for one on his daughter, I couldn't go to his company…"
"Hence the incomplete information," Christian finished, sitting back and shaking his head.
"Indeed, and even then, I have it on good authority she found out mere hours later," Welch admitted, his expression apologetic.
"I completely dismissed the father," Christian murmured, realization dawning on him.
"That is the idea," Taylor added.
"I take it there's no point in asking what you know about him and an uncle." The way both men shifted uncomfortably was answer enough. "Right," he murmured. "Welch, the next time I ask for a check on someone, and it isn't in my best interest… just tell me. Thanks for coming." He dismissed both men, his mind buzzing with new insights into the complicated web of people surrounding Ana.
A package arrived for you… from Miss Steele." The speed at which Christian shot out of the office had both men stifling their laughter.
"He's got it bad," Welch whispered, watching the boss's retreating figure.
"You don't say," Taylor replied, a knowing smile creeping onto his face.
"How do you get into this thing?" Christian bellowed, his frustration getting the better of him.
"You will need a screwdriver." Taylor would wonder how he managed to keep a straight face.
"Surely, I have one of those somewhere." Christian was quickly losing his patience. He knew what was in the small crate, but what state it was in was what he was desperate to find out.
"Here, Mr. Grey." Gail handed him a small toolkit, all the while glaring at the two men who thought it amusing.
"Thank you, Gail." He quickly found the right bit, PH1, and meticulously unscrewed all twelve screws. He took a deep breath, lifted the top off slowly, and simply stared.