I’m still distracted by thoughts of Christian’s kiss as I try and get ready for my night out with Ros and Kate and so every menial task takes me forever. After I finally get out of the shower and finish my hair and makeup, I find myself staring at the clothes hanging in my closet, only half-heartedly sorting through everything in here since I know I didn’t bring any clothes back from Cambridge that I would consider suitable for a nightclub. Knowing Kate, she’s going to go all out tonight and the plethora of business attire dresses, skirts and blouses in front of me are not going to live up to the standard she’s going to set.

Maybe I should have asked her to bring me something or maybe I should have added dress shopping to my list of errands this morning. I smile at the thought of Christian walking irritably through a department store with me while I searched through the different racks of sequin covered dresses and then pacing back and forth outside the dressing room while I try on my finds, or maybe even coming back and helping me with the zipper and then…

I shake my head to bring myself out of the ensuing fantasy and then sigh and take out a simple black dress. The hem is a little longer and the neckline a little higher than something I would have chosen for a night out on the town, but I’m hoping the black pumps, sleek hair and winged eye liner will up the bombshell factor enough that no one will notice this dress is more suitable for a boardroom than a nightclub.

Once I’m finished checking my make up one last time, I slip the money I’d taken out at the ATM this morning for cab fare into my bra and then put the rest of the cash I have for the night into a small silver clutch. I learned a harsh lesson on one of my very first bar hopping adventures with Kate about keeping cab money separate from drinking money. Last year, Kate and I had a little too much fun at the bars in downtown Cambridge, but when everything closed down, we both discovered we were out of cash and ended up having to walk two and a half miles home in stilettos. It was a consequence I had to live with for weeks as the blisters healed and it’s not a mistake I plan to make again. Especially since I don’t really think Christian would be too happy about the ugg boots I’d have to wear in the office while I recovered.

It’s dark out by the time I’m ready to leave and I feel rushed as I throw the last of my things in my clutch before heading out the door. I make my way down to the lobby and then out to the street to hail down a cab. I’m meeting Kate and Ros at a sushi restaurant called Gaba Sushi, which is located in the heart of Pioneer Square. Since I’m supposed to be at the restaurant at 8:30, but I don’t make it out of my apartment until 8:25, I’m the last to arrive. The hostess leads me back to a table where I see Kate, Ros and a pretty blonde woman who I assume must be Ros’s girlfriend, Gwen. They’ve already got a round of drinks in front of them.

“Ana!” Kate says excitedly when I get to the table. “You look hot!”

“Thanks, Kate. I’m sorry I’m late. I’ve had a… weird day,” I tell her, glancing quickly at her outfit. I was right to think she’d be dressed to the nines tonight. She’s wearing a low cut dress that is so shimmery it almost looks as though it’s made of liquid and her platinum hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, hanging long and stick straight down her back.

“Don’t worry about it. We ordered you a drink,” Kate says, and I look down at the tangerine colored cocktail in front of the empty seat.

“Ana, this is Gwen,” Ros says as I take a seat and take a sip of the cocktail, which tastes of champagne, citrus, and some kind of sweet, tangy syrup. I reach out to shake Gwen’s hand but she gets out of her seat and yanks me up into a hug.

“Hi, Gwen,” I say with a surprised laugh as she releases me and returns to her seat.

“Sorry, I’ve just heard so much about you, I feel like I know you. Ros told me that you used to date Christian and I have so many questions for you.”

“Oh… we never measured it,” I reply, deadpan, as I take another sip of my drink, and although Kate snorts into her own drink next to me, Gwen looks at me confused for a minute before she gets the joke and laughs again.

“Oh, I like her,” She says turning to Ros, but Ros just takes a deep breath and shakes her head.

“I’d actually prefer it if we could get through the night without talking about Christian Grey’s penis, ladies,” She says, but Kate begins shaking her head.

“I don’t know if I can agree to that,” She says. “You see, I went over to the Greys’ this morning to have breakfast with Elliot, and Grace told me that somebody was over at Christian’s apartment awfully late last night.”

I flush, though not because of anything that happened last night, and Ros turns a hard look on me.

“You two aren’t back together are you?” She asks.

“No.”

“Really?” She presses me.

“No, Ros! We’re not back together.”

“Good,” She says with a nod. “Because GEH has a very strict fraternization policy. You’re his direct subordinate, Ana. He could face sexual harassment allegations and you could be forced out. It’s a PR nightmare waiting to happen and we’re on the verge of something big that GEH can’t risk losing because you two can’t keep your hands off each other. Frankly, I was a little concerned when he told me he was hiring you just because of your history, but because I know that you’re qualified for what he has planned for you, I let it go. You need to be careful though.”

“The only reason anything would happen to either of them would be if Ana reported him,” Kate argues but Ros shakes her head.

“If anybody reports it,” Ros says, shaking her head. “And his little doe eyed receptionist watches him like a hawk. Look, in the end, I’m rooting for you guys, Ana. Christian is one of my best friends in the entire world and he was never happier than when he was with you, but if you’re thinking about getting back together with him, I think you should wait until the end of the summer.”

“We’re not together. I was just there last night as a friend. We’re just friends,” I tell her, and even though it’s technically the truth, the words taste like a lie as they roll off my tongue. Probably because I know where we’re headed and that we’re already planning to spend an entire day alone together in his apartment tomorrow. Could I resist him again, like I did this afternoon? The thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth as I realize that, I could… but I don’t want to.

“Good,” Ros says.

“Hmm…” Kate frowns. “Elliot was so excited when Grace told him. He was going on and on all day about how you two would be back together by Christian’s birthday next month. He’s going to be so disappointed.”

“Well, you can apologize to him for me. I do have some news for you though,” I tell her, and she looks back at me, her interest peaked. “I made up with Luke. He came over last night and we vegged out on the couch and watched It Happened One Night.“

“Oh my god, Ana. How many times are you going to torture him with that movie?”

“Literally as many times as I can get away with it,” I reply, and we both laugh.

We put in our order for sushi and seaweed salads and spend the next hour or so laughing over great food and strong cocktails. Once we’re finished, Kate insists we have to stop in one of the bars on the way since she doesn’t want to get to the nightclub before 10:30, but she also doesn’t want to stop drinking. When we do finally make it to Trinity, I’m already starting to feel the effects of the alcohol I’ve consumed up to this point, and as we stand in the line waiting to get in, I have trouble keeping up with the bubbly conversation between Ros, Gwen and Kate, though I think that’s more because my mind keeps wandering back to Christian and the way he felt against me this afternoon.

I wonder what he’s doing right now?

I pull out my phone to send him a quick text to find out, but before I can finishing typing, Kate grabs onto my arm and pulls me forward. We’re being ushered to the front of the line and into the club by the bouncer.

“Thank god for Kate’s boobs,” Ros laughs as we head past the line of people shooting us irritated glances and through the door to the club.

“And Ana’s ass,” Kate adds, slapping my behind. I squeal and then turn an indignant look back at her but the innocent pouty face she gives me just makes me laugh.

Trinity is loud, and packed full of people. I hold tightly to Kate’s hand as we weave our way through the crowd bouncing up and down to the heavy bass sounds booming out of the speakers next to the DJ. The bar is crowded, dozens of people standing around trying to get the bartender’s attention, but all Kate has to do is lean slightly over the wood counter top and flash the bartender a dazzling smile for our drinks to start being poured.

The bartender lines up shots of tequila and four peach colored cocktails for us and we lift the shots into the air, clinking them together, and then slam them down. The tequila goes down like fire, making me grimace, and I take a quick sip of my cocktail to chase it down. Mmm, Sex on the Beach.

We head back out to find a table we can all stand around and once we’re able to set down our bags and drinks, we begin to dance to the thumping music. I feel Kate’s arms snake around me and I grab onto her, moving my body in time with hers as we lose ourselves in the music and the flashing colored lights.

The night passes in a blur, though I don’t know if that’s because of the rounds of tequila shots Ros and Gwen keep buying or the dancing with Kate but it feels like hardly any time has passed at all before I feel my energy rapidly declining.

“Another round, ladies?” Gwen says, returning from the bar with four drinks in her hands.

“One more, but this is it for me,” I tell her, as she hands me the murky, golden cocktail.

“Oh, come on, Ana!” Kate complains. “It’s barely past 12:30. The club doesn’t close for two more hours! Stay with us one more hour at least!”

“I can’t,” I tell her, trying to cover a yawn and she pouts.

“One more song then?” She asks as I finish my drink.

“Okay,” I relent, and she smiles and pulls me out onto the dance floor. I pose with her as she takes pictures of the two of us dancing with her phone and once the song ends, she takes me out the front doors to the line of cabs waiting to pick up the people drunkenly stumbling out of the club.

“Brunch tomorrow?” She asks me as I slide into the back seat of the taxi closest to me.

“I don’t know. I had a lot of tequila, and I don’t have your superhero level ability to recover,” I say with a small laugh. “I’m probably going to be wrecked but call me in the morning and I’ll let you know.”

“Alright, drink some water,” She tells me, and I roll my eyes and close the door to the cab.

When I get to Escala, I pull the money out of my bra to pay the driver and then hurry through the main doors of the lobby, which I have to open with the special resident’s code. As I stumble my way out of the elevator onto my floor, I discover that I’m actually drunker than I thought I was. It’s hard to navigate the narrow hallway in these shoes and I have to hold my hand against the wall to keep myself steady. Unfortunately, when I get to the door of my apartment, I have a horrible, gut wrenching realization.

I don’t have my purse.

And without my purse, I don’t have my phone, my keys… I don’t have anything. I’m locked out and I can’t even call Kate to see if I left my purse at the bar or ask her if she’ll grab it for me. Shit, what if I left it in the cab? I groan and rest my head against the door, trying to figure out what I’m going to do. I can’t even go down to the service desk because the apartment is in Christian’s name and all of my service requests have to go through him…

Wait, Christian! He owns the apartment, he probably has a key. Crap, I wish I had my phone so that I could see what time it was. I’m pretty sure that it has to be after one o’clock in the morning by now, so he’s probably asleep. He does have that nice new couch… I wonder if he’d be okay with me sleeping there until he got up to let me into my apartment? I’m sure he would…

I decide at this point, it’s my best bet, so I slip off my shoes and carefully make my way back to the elevator. My head is swimming slightly and I have to input the code to Christian’s penthouse three times before I get it right, but eventually I do and when the elevator begins to move, I hold myself up against the railing, concentrating on my breathing as I make my way up to the 31st floor.

When the doors open, I notice that the apartment is dark, but to my surprise, it isn’t quiet. The soft, lyrical tones of the piano drift through the foyer and I follow the sound into the living room where I find Christian sitting at the piano, his silhouette illuminated only by the lights of the city shining in through the window behind him. I can vaguely recognize the melody of whatever he is playing but it’s hard to concentrate on the music once I realize that he’s sitting before me in nothing but a pair of pajama bottoms, the light from the window highlighting the contours of the well-defined muscles in his chest and arms.

He looks…

Oh, he looks…

I stand there, frozen, marveling at him. The tendons become more pronounced in his forearms with each stroke of his long fingers over the keys and it brings back memories, all too clear in this moment, of those same fingers working their magic on me. Heat flushes over me and as I stand there, once again feeling myself being wholly consumed by my desire for this beautiful man, my grip on my shoes relaxes and they tumble noisily onto the floor.

Christian jumps slightly at the unexpected sound and turns to look at me.

“Ana?” He asks, clearly surprised to see me here. I swallow, hoping to force down the licentious feelings, which are unfortunately currently being fueled by alcohol and are much, much more poignant than usual.

“Hi. I’m um… I’m locked out of my apartment.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think I left my purse at the club. My phone and my keys were in it.”

“I could have Taylor go down and look for it, if you want,” He offers.

“No, it’s late. I don’t want you to wake him. I’m sure Kate will grab it. I just thought that maybe you’d have a key.”

“I do. I’ll… get it for you.”

“Thank you,” I tell him. He nods as he gets up from the piano and I inhale sharply when he turns towards me and I get the full view of his chest, his abs, the intriguing line between his hip bones that disappears into his pants…

The way his muscles move beneath his skin is so graceful, it’s nearly hypnotic. I feel like I physically can’t take my eyes off of him as I follow him through the living room and kitchen to the utility room, and when he opens the small door to the metal box on the wall, which is full of ten or so different keys, I feel the last of my restraint fade away.

I want him and I want him now.

“Here,” He says, holding the key out for me. I glance down at it for a second and then push past his outstretched hand and press myself against him. My fingers reach into his hair and I pull him down to me so that my lips can reach his.

“Ana…” He says, pulling away from me hesitantly and I look up at him, shocked, as he continues.”You’re drunk. I can’t…”

“I’m fine, Christian. Really.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Christian, I promise you. I want this. I’ve wanted this all day, since you kissed me in my apartment. This has nothing to do with the alcohol. I want you.”

I can see the conflict behind his eyes so I lean forward to kiss him again and this time, he doesn’t back away. He’s still reluctant though so I twist my fingers into his hair again, pulling gently as I brush my tongue against his bottom lip. He groans as his restraint begins to fade away and I hear the high clinking sound of the key he was holding hitting the stone tile floor as his arms wrap around me.

He pushes me backwards into the wall before deepening our kiss. As he’s holding me in his arms, pinning me to the wall with his body so that I can feel the heat radiating off his skin, it feels as though time stops and we’re just hands and tongues and burning, blistering need. There is a sense of urgency in his kiss and I eagerly return his fervor. The desperate need for the release of two years of withdrawal consumes both of us as we pour our yearning into each other. His teeth sink briefly into my bottom lip, tugging it gently for a moment, before he dives back into our kiss again.

I devour him greedily. My breathing is harsh and ragged as I arch my back so that as much of my body is pushed into him as possible. Through the thin fabric of my dress, my breasts press against his naked chest and he growls a deep, needy sound that ignites the lust in me like a fuse held to an open flame. I can feel his fingers gripping hungrily into my dress and in that moment, I want nothing more than for him to rip through the fragile chiffon and take me, right here, right now… on the floor.

“Take me to bed, Christian.” I plead when I’m finally able to pull my lips away from his. He looks down at me for a moment, the desire burning brightly in his eyes.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

“Yes, yes I’m sure,” I reassure him. “I want you, I need you. Please.”

“I don’t have any condoms…”

“That’s okay, I’m on the pill.”

He looks at me with a pained expression for a moment but eventually, the intensity of the pull between us that has been so present over the past week finally wins out and, moving so fast that he leaves me slightly disoriented, he reaches down and scoops me in his arms. We move quickly through the apartment and he holds me against him so that I can feel his heart racing in his chest. I reach out to tilt his head back to mine so that I can continue to kiss him as he takes me back to a part of his apartment I’ve never been before. I can hear him fumble blindly with the handle on his bedroom door and then he steps into the room and lays me down on his bed.

“You’re sure?” He asks again and I nod and then climb up onto my knees so that I can reach up to kiss him again. He takes my face in his hands, holding me to him while he kisses me greedily, and then his hands travel to the zipper on the back of my dress and he eases it down. A shiver runs over me as he lightly drags his finger up my now naked back and then brushes his hands over the fabric on my shoulders, pulling my dress down to my waist. His lips break apart from mine then, and he begins to leave a trail of kisses down the line of my throat to my collar bones. My breasts shift as his fingers move deftly to the clasp on my bra, unhooking it, and then he drags it off of me.

Once my breasts are exposed, he leans back to stare at me for a moment, his thumb brushing lightly over my nipple.

“Oh, baby,” He whispers with veneration, and then he kisses me again, pushing me backwards onto the bed, his naked chest pressed firmly against mine. He cradles my face again with his left hand as he shifts his body slightly so that he can pull the dress the rest of the way off of me with the right, and once he does, his free hand moves up my side and begins to massage my breast. I moan, and tilt my hips up towards him, my need for him spiraling out of control.

He begins to roll my nipple between his finger and his thumb and once it’s elongated and over sensitized, he increases the pressure between his fingers and pulls ever so slightly. I gasp and his teeth capture my bottom lip once more.

“Christian!” I cry out, and he groans a low appreciative sound.

“Tell me what you want, Anastasia,” He says. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I want you. Please, Christian,” I reply, my words a broken plea.

“Oh, Ana,” He moans, and he kisses me once more before pulling away to stand next to the bed. My impatient gaze follows him as he hooks his fingers beneath the band of his pajama bottoms and he slowly inches them down until he’s standing before me, naked and absolutely glorious. I lean forward, wanting to taste him, to feel his erection in my mouth, but he grasps my shoulders and pushes me back down on the bed, and climbs back over the top of me again.

“No, Ana,” He whispers. “I don’t want your mouth right now. I want to be inside of you, and I can’t wait any longer.”

My breath hisses between my teeth as I feel him hastily pull my panties off of me and then his erection brushes against my entrance. I can see the libidinous hunger in his eyes, but… again, there is hesitation too.

“Ask me again,” He says, imploring me rather than commanding.

“Fuck me, Christian. I want you to make me come.”

“And you promise me that you’re not too drunk?”

“No. No, I want this,” I assure him and he swallows once, his eyes baring into mine as though he’s looking for any sign of doubt. “Please.” I whisper again.

He growls, leaning down and kissing me once more. His lips are almost painfully urgent against mine as he reaches down, positions his erection at my entrance and in one, quick movement thrusts inside of me.

I cry out, my body tightening and clenching around him as I attempt to adjust to him inside of me. It’s painful, more so than I would have imagined, but also deeply, viscerally satisfying. I clench my jaw together, waiting for the pain to subside and he freezes, looking down at me with concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I say in a tight voice. “Nothing, I’m fine. Just give me a second. I forgot how big you are.”

“Oh baby, that’s because I don’t think I’ve ever been this fucking hard,” He whispers, flexing his hips upward, though not enough to cause me any pain. I reach up and claim his lips once more, my tongue entangled with his. Our breathing comes in harsh, broken staccatos and moans as he starts moving slowly in and out of me, and after a minute or so, I begin to adjust to his size and each moment of him inside of me starts to give me a jolt of resounding pleasure rather than acute pangs of pain. I tilt my pelvis up to him, encouraging him to really move, but he doesn’t. Instead, when I begin to squirm beneath him, he inhales sharply and reaches down to hold my hips still.

“Don’t move,” He tells me and I moan defiantly.

“I’m okay now,” I tell him but he doesn’t move his hands.

“Please, Ana. Don’t move,” He says, and I look up at him, confused.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s been… awhile,” He says through gritted teeth, “You’re going to make me come.”

I whimper, and he lets out a low, frustrated sound before pulling out of me and inching his way down my body. I look down at him in protest, but my complaint is cut off by the gasp he elicits when his mouth makes contact with my clitoris.

“Oh, god!” I breathe, collapsing back onto the bed and he moans into me. I feel his tongue swirl around me, his lips tease me, his teeth graze gently against me, and my legs begin to shake as I’m overwhelmed by the sensation. With agonizing slowness, he eases a finger into me, and then another, while he continues to worship me with his tongue.

“Anastasia, you taste so good,” He whispers in awe as he moves his fingers in and out of me, bringing me to close the the edge and holding me there, hanging somewhere between coherence and complete oblivion.

“Oh, Christian. You’re going to make me come,” I tell him, feeling heat spread through my body like a liquid flame flowing through my veins.

“Come on, baby. Give it to me,” He says, his fingers moving inside of me harder and faster than before. He traces firm, deliberate circles over my clitoris with his thumb and the quivering deep inside of me intensifies until I erupt, screaming his name.

“So beautiful,” I hear him whisper and then his mouth is on me again, his tongue dipping inside of me while I ride out my orgasm. When the crushing waves of pleasure finally come to an end, he leaves one last, tender kiss on me before slowly moving upward, his tongue easing its way up my body, over my stomach towards my breasts. He takes his time, exploring every inch of my skin, tasting me, relishing me. Dragging on the agony.

“Christian, I want you inside of me,” I plead and I feel him smile against my heated skin.

“All good things, Anastasia,” He says, nipping gently at my breast. He rolls his tongue around my nipple, and I writhe beneath him, relishing in what he’s doing to me but needing so much more. Eventually, he moves up to take my lips with his once more and I feel him reach down to position himself against me. He thrusts inside of me again and although I still feel a slight twinge of pain, it’s easier to accommodate him after my orgasm. He doesn’t stop this time to wait for me to adjust to him and I begin keening loudly as I start to lose myself in the harsh, punishing rhythm he sets.

“You feel so fucking good, Anastasia,” Christian says, grabbing my hips as he thrusts on and on, quickly bringing me right back to the brink. We’re lost in one another, so absorbed in the pleasure that I cannot fathom anything in the world outside of him. We’re perfect together, made for each other, and in this moment, I know there is no turning back, I’m not going to be able to let him go again. I’m in this with him, for better or for worse. The ease we have with one another, even after all of this time, proves to me that I am as much his now as I was before and surprisingly, that realization brings me solace rather than trepidation. He loves me and I love him and nothing else matters. We can deal with anything as long as we’re together. As long as we have this.

I gasp as Christian suddenly sits up and flips me onto my side. He kneels over my left leg and pulls my right leg up and around his waist and when he enters me again, it feels even deeper and he’s pushing right against that place inside of me that invigorates my entire body. His thrusts are so ruthless that I can feel myself being pushed further up the bed every time he slams into me, until eventually I’m pressed up against his headboard. I place my hands on the dark wood to push myself back down into him and meet him thrust for thrust. The room is filled with the blended sound of my cries and his groans, and soon I begin to feel heat blossoming inside of me again.

“Fuck. I’m getting close, baby,” Christian says, his voice raw and carnal.

“Me too,” I tell him.

“Then come for me,” He demands. “Come for me, Ana.”

His fingers fist into my hair, tiling my head upwards as he leans over my leg so that he can claim my lips again and the feel of his tongue moving perfectly in sync with mine in combination with his movements deep inside of me is enough to tip me over the edge and I let go.

“Yesssss!” He hisses as I clench around him with each pulsing wave of my orgasm, and the tension in his face is relieved instantly as he too finds release.

Once it’s over, he collapses onto the bed next to me, his body flushed against my back as we try and regain control of our breathing and I revel in the feel of his arms wound tightly around me. When our heart rates slow and our breathing no longer comes in harsh pants, he leans up and reaches over to turn my face back to him so he can kiss me again, though this time, there is no longer any sense of urgency. His kiss is soft, gentle and loving.

His hand cups the side of my face, holding me there while his tongue explores my mouth. I moan and lean into him, deepening the kiss, while the hand that is pinned beneath my arm closes around my breast. In this moment, nothing exists in my world but taste and touch and for the next several minutes, I’m content to do nothing more than lie here, kissing him, loving him, until I feel his erection begin to grow against my behind once more.

“Again?” He asks, pausing our kiss only long enough to speak.

“Yes,” I whisper in response and I feel him smile against my lips.

He reaches down and eases himself inside of me from behind, though this time, when he starts to move, his thrusts aren’t rough and fueled by his need for release. Instead, he’s slow and deliberate.

“Ah…” I gasp as I feel each and every tantalizing inch of him pushing deep inside of me. He moves his lips down to my shoulder while his hand continues to gently massage my breast in time with each purposeful thrust. I feel his tongue begin to move up my neck until he reaches my earlobe, which he tugs gently with his teeth, and I feel a small pang of disappointment that I’m facing away from him. I’d love to be able to trace my tongue along the defined lines of his hips or his chest. The way he moves inside of me, presses his lips into mine, stares deeply into my eyes… it’s so intimate. It feels as though he’s making love to me like it’s our very first time, or possibly, our last.

“Oh, Ana,” He whispers, almost reverentially, “I’ve missed this so much.”

“Me too. Oh god, Christian, you’re so good…”

He groans and his hand moves down from my hip to massage my clitoris. I feel the promising quiver begin to rise again with each pass of his fingers over me, with each long, exquisite stroke of his erection inside of me, and I know I’m not going to last much longer.

“Come with me, Christian,” I beg him.

“Already?” He asks, and when I nod, he exhales sharply and picks up his rhythm, rolling me a little more onto my stomach and pressing me into the mattress as he does. It’s so intense this way and I scream his name into his sheets as he dives into me again and again. I know that he has staff somewhere in this apartment and I don’t want them to hear me, so I turn so that I’m face down in the pillow, but once I do, Christian grips my arm and rolls me onto my back. The fire blazing behind his eyes has returned again as he stares down at me.

“Look at me, Ana,” He growls, “I want to see you when I make you come.”

I stare back at him, doing my best to stop the screams that seem determined to burst out of me in response to his grueling pace. It’s winding me tighter and tighter until I can’t hold off any longer and I explode. My orgasm hits me with astounding force, rocketing through me like I’ve been electrocuted and my body shudders beneath him.

“Fuck,” He hisses. His fingers dig into my hips, pulling me into him as, once again, he comes violently inside of me.

Every nerve in my body has been heightened and the sensation of his fingers against my skin is almost too intense now. My head is spinning as I come down and the alcohol begins weighing on me heavily as I begin to realize how tired I am.

Finally, Christian rolls over onto the bed next to me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against him again. I shift slightly, pressing as much of my body into him as possible and I feel my eyelids begin to droop. If I was tired when I left the club, I don’t know how to describe the exhaustion I feel now.

“That was…” He begins but his words are cut off my his labored breathing.

“Incredible,” I finish for him.

“More than that,” He says. “It was everything.”

“Mmm,” I moan appreciatively as I snuggle into him. He leans down and kisses my neck again before gently nuzzling my hair.

“You’re okay, right?” He asks. “You’re not going to regret this in the morning?”

“No,” I say, though my voice is so quiet and filled with my need for sleep, part of me wonders if he even heard my response.

“If you do… just, tell me. Please don’t leave me, Ana,” He says, and the plea in his voice is enough to bring me back from the edge of sleep.

I turn my head back to look at him and I can see the longing in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, Christian.” I promise him and even though he leans down to kiss me again, there is no look of relief on his face.

“Do you want to go back to your own apartment? I can go get the key for you,” He says, and I bite down on my lip as I consider this.

The lines have been blurred now, I know that and I honestly don’t know anymore whether it is or isn’t a good idea for me to spend the night with him, but in this moment, I just feel… absolutely content and I don’t want to leave. So I don’t.

“No,” I tell him. “No, I don’t want to go back to my apartment. I want to sleep in your arms tonight. I want you to hold me, Christian.”

“I want that too,” He whispers, and a smile creeps across his lips. “Sleep, baby.”

I feel his lips press softly into my hair before he settles down to lie next to me. He tightens his arms around me as I begin to drift, and just before I’m completely lost to the word I hear his low whisper in the darkness.

“I love you, Anastasia,” He says, and then I slowly fade away into a deep, restful sleep.

Next Chapter

I wake up the next morning a little later than I mean to, so I have to hurry through my shower and settle on a banana for breakfast in order to make it up to Christian’s apartment on time. I’m a little more nervous and… excited than I normally am as I make my way up to the thirty first floor, and when the elevator doors open and I see Taylor there waiting for me, I’m almost a little embarrassed by the stupid grin that I can’t keep off my face.

“Good Morning, Miss Steele,” He says warmly.

“Morning, Taylor,” I reply, and then follow him into the apartment. I find Christian pacing in front the scenic windows of his living room, talking to someone on his iPhone. He’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, looking nothing like the straight laced CEO I’ve come to expect over the last week, and it warms my heart. He finally looks like the Christian I remember again.

“No, I want the contracts signed by Monday,” He says into the phone. “Our operations meeting is Tuesday morning and I plan to announce the deal then, but I won’t do it without a signed contract. Make it happen. Good, then I’ll see you Monday. Have a good weekend, Ros.”

He hangs up the phone and turns to look at me.

“Don’t you ever take a day off?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

“It was just a few last minute things, but everything else can wait for this evening. You have my full attention, Anastasia,” He assures me, and he makes a show out of putting his phone on silent to prove his point. I smile at the gesture but still shake my head with exasperation. Taking a few hours break from work in the middle of a Saturday is not the same thing as taking a day off.

He slips his phone into his pocket and then leads me across the apartment to the elevator so we can leave, Taylor following in our wake.

“You’re planning on driving?” I ask, when Christian reaches out to press the elevator button for the garage rather than the lobby. “You know it’s like four blocks away, right?”

“I thought you planned on buying things?” He replies.

“Yeah, but not enough that I would need a car to bring it all back.”

He shrugs as the doors open. We both follow Taylor out of the elevator and towards the black SUV that’s idling just a few feet away, and the second we step out onto the asphalt of the garage, the passenger’s side door to the SUV opens and I Luke gets out. He hurries around to our side so that he can open the back door for us, but before he does, Christian stops to say something to Taylor.

“Hey, Luke,” I say, elated by his surprise appearance and he smiles at me.

“Hey,” He replies. “How was Mia?”

“Fine,” I say dismissively. “Melodramatic, but fine.”

“Good. I was worried when I saw them putting people in the back of the police cruisers. It’s good that they let you take her home,” He says. “You know, we didn’t finish the movie last night. I think I still have fifteen minutes left of suffering to do.”

I smirk at him. “I think you secretly love that movie and are just upset that you didn’t get to finish it.” I reply and he laughs.

“No way. I’m just all out of sorts now. I’ve seen it 13 and ¾ times. It’s got me off balance.”

“Well, one night this week you should come over and we can make it an even fifteen times. What do you think?”

He rolls his eyes, “I think, you bring the movie, I’ll bring the booze.”

I laugh as he steps aside to pull open the door for me but Christian stops me from getting in.

“Maybe we should walk,” He suggests. “You’re right, it’s not that far and it’s a beautiful day. Sawyer and Ryan can take the SUV and we’ll meet them down there. I’m sure Taylor wouldn’t mind the exercise.”

“No, sir,” Taylor says.

“Ana,” Christian says, motioning me to walk forward rather than past Luke to the backseat of the car. I nod and then smile and wave goodbye to Luke before following Taylor through the entrance of the garage, then around 4th avenue and down Stewart towards Pike Place.

It’s a busy Saturday down in the Marketplace and the crowd makes it difficult to maneuver around to all the different shops. We stop by Beecher’s to watch the cheese being made through the window and then the Fish Co. where they’re tossing fish to one another over the counter and chasing tourists around with gutted octopuses. We stock up on fresh produce at Frank’s and spices down at The Souk. Christian talks me into sampling the pâté de foie gras at DeLaurenti and then laughs at me when I immediately gag and spit it back out into my napkin.

The entire morning is wonderful. We fall so easily back into this easy comfort we have with one another that for just this brief period of time, it almost feels as if nothing has happened and it’s just us again. I don’t even know the last time I had such a good time and for the first time since I’ve been in Seattle, I feel real hope. Not just about Christian, but about both of us. Watching him so carefree, talking and laughing with me, gives me a small glimpse of the future we could have together, and now I’m more sure than ever, maybe even more sure than I was two years ago when I hadn’t had to live without him yet, that this future is what I want more than anything else in the world.

“Do you want to get some lunch?” He asks, as we hand Taylor our purchases so he can take them back to wherever Luke is with the car.

“Sure,” I tell him, and Christian turns to Taylor.

“We’ll be at Le Pichet,” He says and Taylor nods, but I stop him before he can turn to leave.

“No! We’re at Pike’s Market. We have to go an get a hot dog at Taxi’s.”

“A hot dog?” Christian asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Yes, a hot dog. It’s a Seattle institution. I thought you were raised here, how do you not know this?” I ask him, and because he continues to look skeptically at me, and I’m not allowed to physically grab onto him and drag him up the marketplace behind me, I give him a challenging look and then turn in the direction of the restaurant.

“I guess we’ll be at… Taxi’s,” I hear Christian say behind me, and then a second later he’s walking next to me, looking down at me dubiously every few seconds.

A huge smile creeps across my face as we approach and I smell the familiar, homey scent that emanates from the grill at Taxi Dogs. It reminds me of spending long Saturday afternoons in this marketplace with my Dad. The man behind the counter greets us warmly and asks for our order.

“We’ll have two of the spicy polish dogs with cream cheese and grilled onions, easy on the franks,” I tell him and Christian grimaces.

“Cream cheese and wh… what did you just order?”

“Will you just trust me?” I reply, and he takes a deep breath and pays the man behind the counter. When we get our food, he stares at it suspiciously for a minute before taking a bite.

“Well?” I ask, through a mouthful of my own hot dog.

He chews slowly for a minute and then swallows with what looks like a great deal of effort. “Is revenge for the foie gras?”

I roll my eyes. “You’re ridiculous, it’s so good! This is my dad’s favorite thing in the world. Every time I’ve been to Seattle, we’ve come here. It’s kind of a tradition.”

“Well, when your Dad comes home, we’ll have to take him somewhere where the food isn’t served on plastic baskets and checkered paper.”

“He won’t be interested,” I laugh and Christian sighs and takes another bite. I suspect he likes it more than he’s willing to let on because he finishes it without further complaint.

“Now what, Anastasia?” Christian asks as we make our way back out into the main marketplace. “Any other traditions we need to check off the list. Maybe you want to count the pigs?” He says, teasingly and I narrow my eyes at him.

“We’re not tourists,” I say emphatically. “Besides, I’ve never gotten higher than twelve.”

“That’s an important number in this city,” He says and I smile.

“Mr. Grey?” A voice says behind us and we turn into a bright flash of light. When my eyes readjust, I see a guy in a black hoodie, looking down at the screen on a camera.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” He asks me, and my eyes widen in panic as I realize what’s happening.

“Uh…” I stutter.

“Give me the camera,” Christian says, stepping in front of me, but the guy just looks at him like he’s lost his mind.

“I don’t think so,” He replies.

“The memory card then. I’ll buy it from you, just name your price,” Christian says, and this time, the photographer raises an eyebrow, clearly interested.

“Six thousand,” He says, and Christian lets out a short, harsh laugh.

“I’m not a Kardashian, there’s no way that photo is worth that much,” He argues.

“I don’t know, US Weekly has been touting you out as the World’s Most Eligible Bachelor. We’ll have to see what they’re willing to offer for the first picture of you and your girlfriend, whose name is…?” The photographer tries to peer around Christian to look at me again, but Christian shifts with him so that he can continue to shield me from view.

“I’ll give you a grand,” Christian offers, but the photographer shakes his head.

“The price is six thousand or I let the magazines start bidding.”

“Fine,” Christian says. He pulls out his phone to make the transaction while I hover uneasily in his shadow. I knew this would be an issue at a public event like the charity gala last night, but out in a public market? I didn’t realize this was a thing that happened here… although I guess I have to admit that I did know he’d been in a few tabloids from my Google Alert. Is this what it’s like for him all the time?

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Grey,” The photographer says as he hands Christian the memory card to his camera. “Just so you know, there’s three more of us around the corner waiting for you and the girl. Someone called in a tip, said you were down here on a date.”

“More photographers?” I whisper, panicked. “Christian, I don’t want…”

“No, I know. I’ll take care of it,” He says, and he nods for me to head down the ramp that leads to the shops below the market so that we’re out of sight of the street as he dials a number on his phone. “Taylor, there are photographers down here trying to get a picture of me with Anastasia. I need you to bring another car down for me to take back to Escala so that Ana can get out of here without being seen. Bring the Veyron, it’ll draw more attention.”

We hover in the breezeway, facing away the ramp that leads to the street above, until Taylor calls us fifteen minutes later to let us know that he’s outside.

“Wait here for Taylor to come get you. He’ll take you around back to the SUV and Ryan can drive you back to Escala,” He says.

“Okay, thank you,” I nod, and he gets up to leave the restaurant. A few minutes later, Taylor appears and he leads me back out into the marketplace. I can see the mob of people behind the flashy sports car screeching up Virginia St, but Taylor leads me in the opposite direction and down a back staircase towards Western Ave where the black SUV is waiting just a few feet from the door we come through. I climb into the back seat just before Taylor and the moment the door is closed, we start moving.

“Paparazzi, huh?” Luke asks, turning around from the front passenger’s seat and flashing a wide grin at me. “One week in Seattle and you’re already a huge celebrity.”

“Shut up, Luke,” I say, glaring at him. “That guy called me Christian’s girlfriend. People can’t think we’re dating. He’s the CEO and I’m an intern. It’ll bring up all kinds of ethical issues for him and I don’t come off looking great either.”

“Was it a date?” Luke asks and I shake my head.

“No, we’re just… we’re just hanging out together,” I tell him, and I feel a little guilty as part of me thinks that this is a lie…

“Then what are you worried about?”

“Perception.”

“No one saw you, Ana,” He promises me, and I nod as we pull into the parking garage at Escala. The guy in the front seat, who I assume is the Ryan guy Christian has mentioned, stops before driving up the ramp to Christian’s parking spaces to let us out and when I climb out of the car, Taylor escorts me to the elevator. When we’re inside, he presses the button for the penthouse and before he enters the code I ask him to stop at my floor too.

“You’re not coming up to Mr. Grey’s apartment?” He asks, looking back at me with a furrowed brow.

“No, I uh… I have plans for later so I think I’m going to relax for awhile at home,” I tell him, and, even though he seems hesitant, he nods and then pushes the button for my floor. When we arrive at the 14th floor, Taylor hands me the bags of things I purchased down at the market and I give him a grateful smile as I step off the elevator.

“Thanks, Taylor,” I tell him. “For getting me out, I mean.”

“My pleasure, Miss Steele,” He says, and then the elevator doors close and he disappears from view.

When I’m back in my apartment, I take a second to relax on the couch and decompress before putting the fruits and vegetables away. The containers of Chinese food from last night are still sitting on the table, so I throw them away and clean up the dishes both Luke and I left behind. When the kitchen is cleaned and I’ve started a load of laundry, I head back into the living room to pick out a book to take out on the balcony with me, but before I make it back to the hallway that leads to my room, there is a knock on the door.

I cross the room to open it and find Christian standing there holding what I think is a DVD in his hand.

“I’m sorry about the photographer… It ruined our afternoon and… I’m sorry,” He says, but I shake my head.

“No, it didn’t ruin anything. That’s not your fault, Christian,” I tell him, stepping aside to let him in. He walks forward through the entryway and gives an examining glance over the apartment.

“How’s the apartment?” He asks. “Do you have everything you need?”

“It’s wonderful, amazing even. Kate was a little jealous when she dropped me off,” I say and he laughs.

“Well then, mission accomplished.”

I turn around to head into the living room, unsure if he’s here to talk or if he just wanted to apologize, but as he follows me further into the apartment, he stops at my dining room table and frowns.

“Your flowers are wilted,” He says, and I sigh.

“Well, they’ve been there for a little over a week. I’ve been meaning to get rid of them but they’re so beautiful I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. Thank-you by the way, that was a very thoughtful welcome home gift.”

“I’ll have new ones sent over.”

“You don’t have too…”

“I want to, Anastasia,” He says, and then he turns to hold the DVD out for me. “This came in the mail today. After they moved everything in here, Sawyer looked through the movies I picked out and suggested I order it for you. He said it was one of your favorites.”

I look down at the case and smile. “Roman Holiday. It’s a good one.”

“Then I’m glad you have it,” He says. “Taylor told me you that you were getting ready to go out tonight… Should I go?”

“I have a couple hours before I have to get ready. I was going to read a book but if you’re not doing anything else, we could watch this instead,” I suggest, holding the movie up for him.

“I’d like that,” He says, and I smile before turning around to put the movie in the DVD player. We both sit on the couch, and I cuddle up with one of the oversized pillows a few inches away from him as the title credits flash across the screen. I can feel him glancing over at me every few minutes and it’s not long before I begin to feel the pull between us. I’m keenly aware of his every movement next to me and I have to stop myself several times from reaching over to touch him, something I seem to want to do just out of habit. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see his fingers twitch every so often, as if he’s struggling to keep the boundaries just as much as I am.

I repeat the no touching mantra over and over again in my head as I try and focus on the movie, but the words don’t give me the same kind of reassurance anymore. What was the point of the rule again? Something about keeping our relationship casual and friendly or setting expectations…? Dr. Flynn had said something about maintaining the boundaries until Christian made the right amount of progress for me to feel comfortable increasing the intimacy in our relationship. I know that he probably didn’t mean for me to evaluate that this soon, but with Christian next to me and every part of me yearning to touch him, maybe I should.

He has respected my boundaries, even though I know he doesn’t want to, and he’s been communicating with his family and going to therapy. He even rescheduled an important meeting so that he wouldn’t miss an appointment with Flynn. And… last night he admitted that he had the urge to call Elena but he didn’t, and not just because I stayed with him to talk. He made that decision while Mia was still there. He went down to the gym instead. That’s progress right?

Yes, it is. And right now, it’s enough for me.

I take a deep breath, reach over, and slowly entwine my fingers with his. He immediately looks over at me with a shocked expression, and I give him a small, reassuring smile. The feel of my hand in his is cathartic and, like a recovering alcoholic taking their first sip of wine after two years of sobriety, I know that just this small taste of his skin against mine is not enough. I swallow hard and then lift his hand, drape his arm over my shoulder, and then cuddle into his side. He shifts automatically so that I fit better against him, and the moment I’m settled in, I feel at ease. There is no burgeoning sense of tension or awkward moment of adjustment. Here in his arms, there is only an overwhelming sense of home.

He wraps his other arm around me too, holding me tightly into him for a while, and then he rests his head against mine. As we continue our way through the movie, every so often I feel his lips press lightly into my hair and each small, sweet kiss sends a tingling sense of pleasure over my scalp that radiates down my body. The feel of him next to me is so comforting that I find myself disappointed when the movie ends. I wish we would have picked something longer like Spartacus or Camelot or the entire Lord of the Rings series from start to finish. Extended editions.

“It’s nearly 6:30, Anastasia,” He says as the credits roll up the screen. “I’d sit here with you forever, but I don’t want to keep you from your friends if that’s where you want to be.”

“Okay,” I say with disappointment, and I force myself to get off the couch. Once we’re at the door, he turns around to face me and I immediately wrap my arms around him again, almost like a child who doesn’t want their parent to leave. He hugs me back for a moment, and then he reaches over and pulls my chin up so that I’m looking at him. We hold each other’s gaze for a split second and then he leans down and, ever so slowly, he presses his lips into mine.

He’s hesitant at first, probably testing me to see if I’m going to pull away from him or not, but when I don’t, his leans into me further and his kiss becomes more assertive. He groans, pulling me into him, holding me tightly as he coaxes my lips apart with his and when his tongue slips into my mouth, I melt into him and my hands reach up into his hair, holding him in place while our lips move together in perfect synchronization. I’m pleased to discover that I don’t have to remember how to kiss him, it’s instinctual. It’s like no time at all has passed between our last kiss and now and as that thought crosses my mind I wonder if that would be something exclusive only to kissing…

I’m breathless when he pulls away from me and that state doesn’t improve as I stare into the fire ignited behind his steely gray eyes.

“Should I stay?” He asks, his voice husky with the hidden promise in his words, but somehow, and I don’t really know how… I’m able to shake my head.

“I need to get ready to meet Kate and Ros,” I tell him. He frowns but nods his head.

“Can I see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll come over in the morning.”

“Good. Have a goodnight, Anastasia.”

“You too,” I tell him, and he leans over, kisses me once more to test my resolve, and then disappears into the hallway. I close the door behind him, leaning against it and feeling breathless. My lips are still tingling and feel slightly swollen from his kiss and the physical reminder of the memory makes me shiver.

I know now that I’m on a train hurtling towards a cliff and I’m not going to be able to stop it. His kiss has elicited a need within me that I have been able to suppress for two years, but has now risen to a level beyond my control. I want him, not just physically, but as mine, the way it used to be and I don’t think I can wait any longer. Even now, it’s taking every ounce of my limited control to stop myself from chasing after him and asking him to take me upstairs. I suppose this was the real reason for the rules. Even Dr. Flynn knew that any seemingly innocent touch was just a slippery slope to us ending up naked together. Again, I feel a shiver of pleasure crawl tantalizingly over my skin at the thought and it tells me just how far gone I am. I take a deep breath and lean my head back against the door.

What are you doing, Anastasia?

Next Chapter

Since I went to bed so early, I’m wide awake by 4:30 the next morning. Elliot isn’t going to be here until 7:30 to pick me up for work and since I know I’m not going to get back to sleep, I decide to get up and head to the gym downstairs to run for a while. Maybe that’s the reason I was feeling so angsty yesterday, I haven’t been keeping up with my workout routine.

I get out of bed and dig through my drawers for a pair of jogging pants and a sports bra, and then throw my hair up into a ponytail before heading out for the elevator. As I expected, the staff of Escala haven’t arrived yet so when I make it down to the basement, it’s completely dark except for a sliver of light streaming into the hallway from the gym. I can hear the steady hammering of feet on the treadmill from whoever is in there and it’s slightly disappointing because I had been hopeful that the gym would be empty this early in the morning. When I round the corner though, I see that the person on the treadmill is Christian, and the disappointment wanes.

He’s facing away from me, reading the subtitles on the TV in front of him, which is playing the news, while he listens to his iPod through his headphones. I would guess that he’s been here for a while because there is a dark line of sweat down the back of his tight, gray t-shirt and the sight of it makes me bite my lip. A sweaty Christian Grey incites libidinous thoughts, and as I try and push them out of my mind, I find myself wishing that I would have worn a tank top rather than just a sports bra. One of us, at least, needs to be able to keep a clear head if we’re going to keep up with this no touching rule and from just the time we spent together last night, I don’t think adding extra temptation is good for Christian’s reluctant sense of self-discipline.

When I step onto the treadmill next to him and press the button to get started, the movement catches his eye and he turns to look at me, scowling at first, then surprised, then slightly stunned as his eyes travel down the line of my collar bones.

Yeah… I definitely should have worn a tank top.

“Good morning, Christian,” I tell him as he pulls one of his earbuds out and I increase the speed of the track on my machine.

“Good morning,” He replies, panting from the exertion of his run. “You really do run now.”

“Nothing gets past you,” I say. “Are you always down here this early?”

“Usually. It’s generally the only time it’s empty down here.”

“That’s what I was hoping for,” I tell him with a sarcastic smirk and he laughs.

“Well, I’m sorry I ruined that for you. Please, don’t let me interrupt you.”

I roll my eyes and then reach over to take the remote for the TV off of his treadmill and flip to the guide for something more engaging than CNN Business News. There isn’t much on this early in the morning so I settle for a rerun of a medical documentary show about obese patients getting bariatric surgery.

“Looking for motivation?” Christian asks with a grimace when I set the remote down and focus intently on the graphic surgery footage.

“Gotta have something to get you up in the morning,” I tell him, and he shakes his head but he doesn’t change the channel. We run together for a while without saying anything else and, besides the steady hammering of our feet on the treadmill, the room is filled only with the sound of our labored panting.

It’s… distracting.

I try and focus back on the muted TV but once the surgery is over, the show is too slow to keep my interest, and my mind begins to wander back to the dream I had last night. The images make me feel a little awkward with Christian running only a few feet away from me so I reach forward and increase the resistance on my treadmill, hoping the added exertion will help me focus more.

It doesn’t.

In fact, all that it really seems to accomplish is that I begin to sweat. Unconsciously, I reach up and wipe my hand over the back of my neck and down across my chest, and Christian picks up one of the towels draped over the arm of his treadmill and hands it to me.

“Thanks,” I say gratefully, but he only nods as I begin to towel off. His eyes are trained on me and there is a kind of hunger in his gaze that is hard for me to ignore. Apparently the 7ish hours that we spent apart have done nothing to mitigate the pull between us, it feels exactly the way it did last night. Only hotter, and sweatier, and… oh Jesus, I really need a distraction.

I look at the workout summary on his treadmill and frown. I usually run right around 7 mph, but he’s got his machine set to 8.6. I know it’s childish, but it feels like he’s beating me and that’s not something I can allow, so I increase my own speed to 8.7. He looks over, smirks at me, and then presses the button until he’s running at 9 mph. I counter with 9.3 and so he increases his resistance to as high as it will go. There is a low groan as the angle on his treadmill increases so that he is essentially running uphill and I sigh and change my settings to match his.

It’s immediately terrible.

I feel a deep burn in my calves and my behind, and after only a minute or two I’m out of breath and a sharp stitch begins rapidly developing in my side. My breasts are beginning to hurt a little from the extra bounce and strain of running uphill and when I reach up to hold onto them to keep them still, I hear Christian’s low groan.

“Stop it,” He growls.

“What?” I pant back at him. “Can’t take a little competition?”

“It’s not the competition,” He says through clenched teeth. “You know what you’re doing.”

I look down at my hands and let out a small, breathy laugh. “It hurts, I can’t help it! They’re very sensitive.”

“Stop,” He groans, and when I don’t move my hands, he has to look away.

“You could give up,” I tell him. “If it’s too much for you.”

“It’s only too much if you keep up with this ridiculous no touching rule,” He says, and when he looks back at me, his eyes rake fervently over me again. “What do you say we both throw in the towel and hit the showers?”

I laugh again. “Keep dreaming.”

“Oh, I will,” He says. “Vividly.”

I shake my head and look back at the workout summary on my panel. I’ve only gone a mile and a half but the effort of the run at this speed and intensity is becoming too much for me now and I’m starting to feel the soreness all over my body.

“Okay, you win,” I concede as I lower the incline on my treadmill and decrease my speed to a quick walk. He lets out a low, victorious sound, hits the kill switch and then steps off his machine so that he’s standing next to me. I feel my body tense as he leans in, his chest only just far enough away from mine so that he’s not touching me, and his lips nearly brush against my ear.

“Thanks for the workout, Anastasia,” He whispers, and his breath against my neck gives me the chills. “Make sure you stretch out, I’d hate for you to be sore. Well…” His voice trails off and I feel the muscles deep inside of me clench at the implication of his words.

No touching. No touching. I repeat inside my head as I ache to just turn my head slightly to the right and kiss him… hard. He smiles at my reticence, probably guessing the direction of my wayward thoughts, and then saunters confidently out of the gym.

When I hear the door close behind me, I too hit the kill switch and step off my treadmill. As I do, I feel the protest of the muscles in my legs and realize, he is right. I do need to stretch. I also need a shower. A long, cold shower.

My early morning ended up being a good thing because Elliot texts me around six asking if he can pick me up a little early since he’s got to get down to the actual job site, where the new GEH is being built, today. We pull into the parking garage a little after seven and as we make our way past the line of cars, I see Luke waiting for the elevator. The doors open and he steps inside, spotting us approaching only as he reaches to press the button for our floor.

“Hey, Luke,” Elliot says when we get into the elevator.

“Mr. Grey,” He says with a professional kind of aloofness. “Miss Steele.”

Miss Steele? That’s all I get? After everything we’ve been through together in the last two years, the best he can give me is Miss Steele?

I give him a tight smile and a nod in response while I lean against the back of the elevator, and focus my eyes on the numbers crawling higher as we rise up to the fourth floor. Elliot gets off, waving goodbye to me as he disappears around the corner, and Luke reaches forward to press the door close button. Once we’re alone, he takes a deep breath, but doesn’t turn to look at me.

“Looks like the nice weather is going to hold out through the weekend,” He says to the metal panel in front of him.

The weather? Really?

“I guess,” I reply. He nods but doesn’t say anything else, and we ride up the remaining four floors in silence. I hate how awkward it feels, but I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to him, or even if he wants me to say something.

When the doors open to release us onto the eighth floor, I frown. I thought I was early this morning but I see both Andrea and Leila already seated behind the desk through the glass doors along with Brian Clark, the new acquisitions intern who didn’t believe I wasn’t just here as Christian’s assistant. I grind my teeth together as I realize that helping Andrea until whatever it is that Christian has planned for me, is ready is going to make me look like a liar.

While I try to remind myself that I shouldn’t care what he thinks, I reach out for the pad next to the door with my security badge, but still, nothing happens. Shit, I stormed out yesterday before Andrea had the security team fix the permissions on my badge…

“Let me get that for you,” Luke says, pulling out his own badge and swiping it against the pad. The red light turns green and I hear the clicking of the lock opening. Luke holds open the door for me and I thank him awkwardly as I hurry inside. When I step through the doors, both Andrea and Leila look shocked to see me. What was it Leila said when I left yesterday? They never last? Perhaps it isn’t unusual for Christian to chase off interns…

“Anastasia, you’re back,” Andrea says, surprised.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry about yesterday. There was a… misunderstanding. Everything’s okay now,” I reply, and Leila narrows her eyes at me.

“Is it though?” She asks, and then turns to look at Andrea. “Are we even positive she’s supposed to be here? I mean her badge doesn’t work which means that Taylor might have revoked her privileges. I don’t know how pleased Mr. Grey would be to find out you’re just letting anyone up here, Sawyer,” She adds turning back to glare at Luke.

He gives her a tight smile, which is more of a grimace than anything. It’s clear these two don’t like each other.

“Well as a member of Taylor’s team, Miss Williams, I think I know who has access to this floor. Mr. Grey, himself, sent out an email late last evening assuring the entire security team that Miss Steele would return this morning.”

“What?” Andrea asks, panicked and she picks up her phone and begins clicking frantically on the screen. “I didn’t get anything,” She says.

“You’re not on the security team,” Luke says, pulling out his own phone and placing it on the desk for Andrea to see. She skims the email and seems to be satisfied by what it says because she hands the phone back to him and smiles.

“Perfect. Would you mind correcting the permissions on Anastasia’s badge so that she could get through the doors, Sawyer?”

“Of course,” He says, turning to me for the badge. I hand it to him and he disappears down the hallway that leads to Christian’s office. I walk around the desk and place my bag inside the drawer Andrea pointed out to me yesterday and then turn to face her.

“So, Mr. Grey said that I’m going to be helping you for the next couple weeks, is there anything I can do for you?” I ask, ignoring Brian’s self-satisfied smirk.

“I don’t think so… I suppose you could take these contracts back to Mr. Grey’s office. Just leave them in a place on his desk where he’ll be sure to see them. He’s running a little late this morning, but once he gets in we usually have a quick meeting to go over his schedule and then I can look through what I have and see if there’s anything you can help with,” Andrea says, holding out a large envelope for me.

“Sounds good,” I tell her as I take the contracts and then walk up the hallway towards Christian’s office.

Christian’s desk is extremely clean so I’m not really worried about him missing the contracts, but because I want to be absolutely sure, I put a bright blue post-it that says “Read Me” on the envelope and then place it on top of his closed MacBook. I’m about to turn to leave when something catches my eye. Yesterday when I was here, I’d thought that this office was entirely devoid of any kind of decoration, but sitting on his desk is a framed 5×7 picture. I lean over, pick it up, and when I realize what it is, I inhale sharply. It’s the picture I took of the two of us in front of the fireplace at the cabin in Vermont. He’s smiling down at me, not the camera, looking sexy and in love, and I look deliriously happy. I stare longingly at it, reminiscing over that perfect weekend.

What am I doing?

It’s too easy to fall back into old patterns with Christian. I’m losing focus, letting him push the boundaries too far… not that I’m not pushing them as well. My hesitation last night as I left, and the compulsion I felt this morning on the treadmill is more than proof enough of that. But, I know that if I’m not careful, I’ll wind up back in his arms before I know what’s happening, and if that happens, I don’t know if he’ll still be willing to get the help he needs or to make the changes that I need to be able to forgive him. If that happens, if I go back too quickly, whatever we’re able to build is going to fall apart, and it’ll wreck me.

Of course, I understand that logically, when I’m alone… but all of that seems to go right out the window whenever he’s standing in front of me.

I need to get over that. I need to stay focused. If I want this back, what I had in this perfect moment captured in this picture, then I have to be strong in what I need. The Ana in this picture could love him absolutely because she had unwavering faith and trust in him. If I’m going to get this back, I have to get that back first.

I know that in order to do that, I’m going to have to face the hard stuff. I’m going to have to talk to him about the trial and about Elena, and I’m going to have to do it without running away from him or backing down. I don’t know when is the best time or what is the best way to do that, but I know it has to be soon. She’s here somewhere, lurking around Seattle, and I know that it’s only a matter of time before she rears her overly blonde head.

I brush my fingers over the glass, tracing the outline of Christian’s face with my finger, and in that moment, it occurs to me then that this might be the reason both Andrea and Leila had such a shocked reaction to my arrival yesterday. Christian doesn’t have any personal items in this office at all, except this picture. If they’ve seen this, and they recognized me, then they know that Christian and I have some kind of relationship. Maybe that’s why Leila seemed so curious about how I knew Christian when she interrogated me yesterday afternoon.

Reluctantly, I put the picture back down on Christian’s desk and hurriedly exit his office. When I round the corner a broad smile crosses my lips as I see Ros standing at the front desk, going over a document with Brian, and I can tell from here that’s she’s agitated. That disappears instantly though when she looks up at me and lets out an excited shriek.

“Ana!” She cries, dropping the paper in her hands on the desk and hurrying to close the distance between us as fast as she can in her killer heels. “I heard you were here yesterday, why didn’t you come and see me?”

“I uh… left early,” I tell her, and Ros sighs and gives me a sympathetic look.

“Christian?” She asks, as though she already knows that’s the answer.

“Yeah,” I say, and then laugh. She really does know him better than most and she’s still a good friend to him. He’s been so alone these past few years, I’m glad he’s had her. Her friendship might be something that will help him realize that he doesn’t need Elena.

“Figures,” Ros says, rolling her eyes. “He’s ridiculous sometimes, but, I don’t have to tell you that. So, what do you say you and I go to lunch this afternoon and catch up? My treat!”

“Sure!” I reply with a smile. “I could call Kate and have her join us. She’s interning with her dad at Kavanagh Media so she’s just a few blocks away.”

“Absolutely!” Ros says excitedly. “And Kavanagh Media is on our RFP list so I can charge our meal to Christian as a business expense. I’ll make reservations at Palisade, say noon?”

“Sounds great,” I tell her, and she wraps me in a hug before turning back to Brian, and motioning for him to follow her into her office.

“So you’re friends with Miss Bailey, too?” Andrea asks when I come back around the desk.

“Oh… yeah. Christian and Ros… I mean, Mr. Grey and Miss Bailey, kind of came as a package deal when they were in school.”

“So you were fairly close to Mr. Grey then?” She presses me, and again, I wonder about the picture in Christian’s office and what she’s figured out about our relationship. I try to think of a way to circumvent this topic again without really lying but thankfully, I don’t have to answer as the sound of the lock opening on the front door catches our attention, and I look up to see Taylor holding the door open for Christian.

“Good Morning, Mr. Grey,” Leila says quickly as he approaches the desk.

“Good Morning, Leila,” He greets her. “Andrea. Anastasia.”

“Can I get you some coffee, sir?” Andrea asks.

“Yes, and we can meet now to go over my schedule for this morning. Bring Anastasia with you. Have the contracts been signed?”

“Yes, sir,” Andrea says. “They’re on your desk.”

“Good. Five minutes,” He says, and then he disappears around the corner without another word. I notice Leila leaning over her desk, watching him walk away for as long as possible, and then settling back down into her chair with a sigh.

“Don’t you love it when he wears that blue tie?” She asks in a dreamy kind of voice. “It really brightens up his eyes.”

“You’ll have to excuse Leila,” Andrea says, rolling her eyes. “She’s in love.“

“And why wouldn’t I be?” Leila replies defensively. “Our love story would be so perfect, it’s practically cliché. Handsome, work-obsessed, multi-millionaire is a changed man when he finally opens his heart to his beautiful, young secretary. It sounds like every chick flick ever made. I mean, the only thing it’s missing is a cold-hearted wife who makes him miserable and just uses him for his money.”

“He doesn’t have a wife though,” Andrea says. “Because he’s gay.”

“He’s not gay!” Leila hisses back at her and I can tell by the way she says it that they must’ve had this argument a dozen times. I bite down on my lip to hide my amused smile.

“Leila, I’ve been his assistant for a year and a half and the only person I’ve ever bought flowers for was his little sister. He’s never once had a plus one to an event, and I manage his schedule, I would know if he had a date,” Andrea adds.

“That doesn’t mean he’s gay, it just means that he hasn’t found the right girl yet,” Leila replies, and then she turns to me. “Anastasia, you were friends with him. Will you please tell Andrea that he’s not gay?”

“He’s not gay,” I tell her, still trying to keep a smile off my face. “He had a girlfriend in college.”

“See. Wait… what? A girlfriend?” Leila asks. “Who?”

“Uh… just some girl he had a class with once,” I tell her. “Andrea, aren’t we supposed to be in Mr. Grey’s office?”

“Yes, but coffee first. Come with me, I’ll show you the break room.”

Andrea leads me down a hallway in the opposite direction of Christian’s office. She points out Ros’s office and the copy room before leading me into a small break room where the espresso machine is. I watch carefully as she expertly prepares Christian’s coffee, explaining to me his exact preferences as she does, and then she leads me back out into the hallway for Christian’s office.

“Miss Steele!” Luke calls through the door to the security office as I pass. I stop and turn to look at him and he’s holding my badge out for me.

“Thank-you,” I tell him, clipping the badge to the end of my blazer.

“No problem, ma’am. Let me know if there is anything else I can do for you,” He says and again, I feel my heart sink.

He’s still being distant. There is none of the warmth in his eyes or in his smile that I’m used to seeing and it makes me wonder if Christian had been wrong. He might not have asked Luke to be my friend, but that doesn’t mean Luke didn’t formulate that act all on his own. I just don’t see any of the person in him now that I did before he left Cambridge all those weeks ago.

“Anastasia?” Andrea asks, leaning forward anxiously as I stand frozen in the doorway of the security office.

“Oh, sorry,” I say. I give Luke a sharp nod and then follow after Andrea again.

Our meeting with Christian is short and fairly brusk. The moment we sit in the chairs across from him, Andrea pulls out her iPad and beings reading through the various meetings, appointments, and conference calls that seem to take up every second of his day.

“You do have one conflict on here,” Andrea says as she nears the bottom of his schedule. “It looks like your meeting with R&D overlaps into your appointment with Dr. Flynn this afternoon.”

He sighs and shakes his head irritably. “Move R&D to tomorrow, confirm with Flynn.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Grey. There isn’t a two hour window open for R&D tomorrow. Tomorrow is your meeting with the Committee for Technology and Economic Development for the State project. Charlie Tango has been booked for an 8 AM departure to Olympia and isn’t scheduled to return until after 6 PM.”

“Fuck,” Christian hisses. “Fine, move R&D at 5:30, cater in breakfast, and get in contact with Sea-Tac to re-route Charlie Tango. We’ll depart from the helipad on the roof.”

“Yes, sir,” Andrea replies, taking notes on her iPad as she stands from her seat. “Should I have your lunch brought in at noon?”

“Yes, order from that deli on the corner.”

“Yes, sir,” She says with a smile. She motions quickly for me to follow after her as she turns to leave but Christian stops me.

“Not you, Miss Steele,” He says. Andrea nods and continues out of the room, and, when the door closes behind her, I look at Christian with an amused smile.

“Helipad? I take it that means you still fly helicopters?”

“Yes,” He says, returning my smile. “I acquired Charlie Tango about three months ago and she’s absolutely top of the line. Ros hasn’t gotten to fly in her yet and I know she’s excited.”

“Good. I hope you have fun,” I tell him, and he nods.

“I had Barney send these up for you,” He says, reaching into a bag at his feet and pulling out a Macbook, an iPad and an iPhone. My eyes widen.

“What are you sponsored by Apple or something?” I ask with a laugh as he places the devices in front of me.

“No, Anastasia, they’re simply the best the market has to offer right now and I never settle for second best,” He says. “But you’ll need these to work. This is a company phone that you’ll need to keep with you at all times and all three devices have been paired with your company email address. Email is usually the fastest way for me to reach you. I have something for you to do that should keep you busy for a few days. It’s not terribly exciting but I think you’re well suited for the task. I’ll send it over to you this morning, Andrea can tell you what to do from there.”

“Okay.”

“And… there is a charity event this Friday night that I’ve committed to. They’re usually fairly dull, but the food is generally decent. If you’re available, I’d like it if you went with me.”

“Like… As your assistant?” I ask, feeling a small sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as once again he begins pressing against our newly established boundaries.

“No, Anastasia. As my date.”

There is hope in his eyes that feels as though it could cut through me and again, with him sitting only a few feet away from me, I feel my resolve begin to waiver.

Boundaries, Anastasia. Boundaries.

“Christian…” I sigh. “I can’t go on a date with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not dating. I forgave you for the Luke thing but that was a new issue. I still haven’t forgiven you for what happened two years ago and it’s going to take time and some work from both of us for that to happen. Besides, I’m your intern. How would it look if I showed up as your date to a public event?”

“I don’t care how it looks,” He says in a low, controlled voice.

“I do. I’m still in college. I don’t have a career yet and I don’t want my name in the papers or on the internet because I attended some charity event with you. I don’t want to get a reputation as some slutty intern sleeping with her boss to get ahead, and then have to try and find a professional job.”

“I can protect you from that,” He says.

“No, you can’t, and that’s one of the reasons why I need boundaries right now. Besides, I’m not ready to be in a relationship with you, Christian. I have to be able to forgive you before I could even think of something like that.”

“And I’m willing to do whatever it takes for you to forgive me, Anastasia. You just have to tell me what you want from me.”

“I can’t do the work for you, Christian,” I say quietly. “I’ve told you what I need from you and I know that you’ve tried and I can give you credit for that, but I also need to know that you’re not just doing this because I told you to and you think it’s the fastest way to get me back. I can’t go through something like this again and if we’re ever going to get back together, I need to be able to trust you again. If I’m going to trust you, I have to know that this is real. That’s going to take some time.”

“Ana, I’m trying. You can trust me, I never want to do anything to hurt you ever again. I’ve felt what it’s like living without you and it’s agony. Nothing in the world would ever be worth living like this again. If you’d just try, just give me a chance, I would spend the rest of my life proving that to you. I can’t take back what I did but I can tell you that I’m sorry and I am. I’m really sorry, Anastasia.”

“What are you sorry for, Christian?” I ask again.

“That I hurt you,” He replies, and the lack of responsibility in that statement deepens my resolve that nothing can happen between us until he has some kind of break through.

“That’s not enough,” I tell him, and he grimaces.

“Ana…”

“Christian, I really don’t want to talk about this at work. I’ve told you this. If you really want to talk about this, we can try and find some time at home later in the week or we can set up some time with Dr. Flynn, but now isn’t the time. When we’re here, you have to treat me like I’m just one of your employees.”

“Fine,” He says abruptly. “Then we’re done here, Miss Steele. I’ll email you what I have for you to work on and I’ll need it back before end of business on Friday.”

“Then, I’ll wait for your email, Mr. Grey,” I tell him. He nods once, which I assume is my dismissal so I gather my things and head out of his office.

When I get back to the front desk, Leila is occupied on the phone, so I sneak quietly around her, take the seat next to Andrea and open my new Macbook so I can open the email program.

“How did it go?” Andrea asks.

“Fine, he said he’s going to email me a project that he wants me to work on and that you should be able to give me some direction.”

My laptop pings as Christian’s email comes through and Andrea tilts the screen towards her.

“Oh, these are just contracts for a potential client that our lawyers drew up. Usually, when they come back, Mr. Grey will have me scan through them for formatting mistakes and spelling and grammar errors. Since there are multiple contracts you’ll want to scan through them and make sure the language is consistent. Once they’re ready, you’ll .pdf them, password protect them and then send them back to Mr. Grey so that once the client is green-lighted, he can send them over to their lawyers for review.”

“Sounds easy enough,” I tell her but as she scrolls through the list I see her frown.

“Yes, but there are quite a few here. Did he give you a time frame?”

“By the end of the week.”

“This week?” She asks with disbelief. “Well, then I’ll let you get to work. Let me know if you need any help.”

“Okay,” I tell her, and then I click on the first attachment. I’m shocked when the Word document comes up and it’s 64 pages long. Holy Shit! How many of these are there? I scroll through the list of attachments and there are 34 documents attached.

I groan. I don’t even want to do the math of how many pages this is. Andrea gives me the password to use on the .pdf copies and I begin to read.

I’m 23 pages into the first document when Ros comes out of her office at 11:45 for our lunch date.

“Ready, Ana?” She asks.

“Uh… I don’t know. I have a lot of work to do.”

“Well, as the vice president of the company, I’m required to ensure you take at least a thirty minute lunch break per Washington state law. So, grab your bag and lets go.”

I roll my eyes but do as she says, texting Kate that we’re on our way to the restaurant as I step into the elevator with her.

When we arrive at Palisade, the host informs us that Kate has already been seated and when we come around the corner and she sees us over the top of her menu, she jumps out of her seat and runs over to Ros with open arms.

“Ros!” She cries excitedly. “How are you? Oh my god, you look fantastic!”

“Thank you! I’m great, business is great,” Ros beams excited. “How are you?”

“Amazing! This internship is going to be a cakewalk. I’ll be running the place by the end of the summer,” Kate replies, making both Ros and I laugh. We take a seat at the table and once we’ve ordered our meals, Kate begins her typical litany of over personal questions.

“Are you dating anyone?” She asks.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” Ros says, smiling broadly. “Her name is Gwen and she’s a marketing executive at Microsoft.”

“Oooh, when do we get to meet her?” Kate asks.

“Soon! In fact, we’d love to have a girls night out. We’re both so tied up with work all the time, we’re in desperate need of a night of fun.”

“How about Friday?” Kate suggests.

“Ugh, Friday is no good,” Ros says. “We have a charity event to go to downtown that night. What about Saturday?”

“Saturday is good for me,” Kate says turning to look at me. “Ana?”

“Sure. I was going to go to the market on Saturday morning but I’m available Saturday night.”

“Excellent, I’ll make reservations. We can have dinner and then head over to Trinity for some drinks and dancing.” Ros says.

“Sounds great. I think Elliot wanted to hang out with some of his old friends from High School sometime soon, so I’m sure he’ll be willing to give me the night off from girlfriend duties.”

“What about you, Ana?” Ros asks. “Is there a boyfriend who might object to you coming along?”

“No, no boyfriend,” I tell her with a small laugh, and she rolls her eyes.

“That must be why Christian has been so weird these past few weeks,” She says. “You two aren’t…?”

“No!” I exclaim quickly. “No, I’m just here as an intern.”

She nods and thankfully, Kate launches into a story of something that happened to her at work that morning, so I don’t have to answer any more questions about the state of mine and Christian’s relationship. I really enjoy the easy conversation we share over lunch, it’s rejuvenating and I realize that maybe the best counter to all of this drama with Christian and Luke is just girl time. By the time we’re finished with lunch, Saturday isn’t just something I’m looking forward to, it feels necessary.

When we get back to the office, I immediately get back to work on the documents I’m reviewing. Leila has gone to lunch with a friend, who ends up being the Suzannah girl I had in my orientation class, and so Andrea has to field phone calls in addition to coordinating the meetings coming through the door every few minutes for Christian and Ros. I’m thoroughly impressed by her ability to multi-task. She’s juggling about 15 different things by the time Leila gets back but never once did she even seem flustered and she’s refused every offer of help from me.

I’m exhausted by the time I get home that night, but I don’t have time to relax. I only made it through six documents this afternoon and by my calculations I need to get through ten a day if I’m going to make it through the work load on time. So, rather than relaxing on the couch to watch TV or pulling a book off the shelf to read, I take my Macbook and crawl into bed, picking up where I left off this afternoon.

By the end of business on Friday, my head is so full of legal jargon and repetitive phrases and numbers that I can’t even think straight. I attach the password protected .pdfs of each document to an email and send it off to Christian and, even though he left the office a little early today so that he could get ready for the charity event tonight, as I gather my things to go home for the weekend, my iPhone buzzes with his email response.

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Re: Completed Contracts for your Review

Date: May 21st 2010 06:35 PM

To: Anastasia Steele

Thank-you Anastasia. You’ve done a great job this week. I knew I made the right decision bringing you on.

Dr. Flynn is available for a joint session on Monday at 6:30 PM. If that works for you, I’ll have Andrea put it on my calendar.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings INC

 

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Joint Session

Date: May 21st 2010 06:37 PM

To: Christian Grey

Unless my boss gives me another time consuming project like he did this week, I can make myself available for that appointment.

 

Anastasia Steele

Implementation Director, Grey Enterprises Holdings INC

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Overbearing Bosses

Date: May 22st 2010 06:40 PM

To: Anastasia Steele

I’m sure your boss will be more than willing to free up your time for you to make the appointment. I hope you have a good weekend. Let me know if you want to spend some kind of “pre-planned, casual” time together or whatever the rules are now. I’m available.

 

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, INC

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Rules

Date: May 21st 2010 6:44 PM

To: Christian Grey

Mr. Grey,

Sometimes rules ARE a good thing. Thank-you for respecting them, even though I can practically taste the bitterness I know went into typing those words. I have plans on Saturday but I’d be happy to arrange something on Sunday. Do I need to go through Andrea to find time on your calendar?

 

Anastasia Steele

Implementation Director, Grey Enterprises Holdings

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Your designated point of contact

Date: May 21st 2010 6:48 PM

To: Anastasia Steele

In the interest of keeping our work and private lives separate as you have requested, I believe you should coordinate Sunday directly through me. I’ll clear the entire day.

And though rules CAN BE a good thing… sometimes they’re made to be broken.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings INC

I shake my head exasperatedly as I read his last email but choose not to respond as I make my way down to the fourth floor where I’ll have to wait until Elliot is ready to leave for the day.

It’s actually fairly late when I get back to Escala and since I have plans for an early morning trip down to Pike’s Market and I know I’m going to be out late tomorrow night, I decide to take if fairly easy tonight and maybe watch a movie. When I turn the corner of the hallway towards my apartment though, I notice someone sitting there waiting for me.

“Luke?” I ask, recognizing him once I’m almost to the door.

“Ana!” He replies, almost startled, as he scrambles to his feet.

“What are you doing here?”

“I um… I thought we could talk. I brought Chinese food,” He adds quickly, turning around and picking up a plastic bag off the floor and holding it up for me.

“Now you want to talk?” I say, glaring at him and his face falls.

“Ana, I’m sorry. I should have told you…”

I sigh and walk to my door, unlock it, and then gesture for him to head inside. He smiles gratefully and hurries forward.

“Make yourself at home,” I tell him as I throw the bag with my laptop and iPad inside of it on a chair and begin pulling plates down from the cabinet. He drapes his jacket over one of the arms on the couch and then begins dishing food out of the cardboard containers onto the plates I set on the table. We both head to the couch to eat and when I sit down, I take a bite of fried rice and then stare expectantly at him.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” He begins. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t supposed to talk to you. You weren’t even supposed to know I was there. When you caught me that night I walked you back to your car, I thought I was going to be fired. I didn’t know what else to do so, I lied to you to try and cover my own ass. You believed me and I thought that I’d solved everything. It would be so much easier to keep an eye on you if I wasn’t also trying to stay out of your line of sight all the time. I could walk you home those nights when you didn’t have a car and I could be there between classes or late at night when you stayed on campus to study…”

“Okay, I get it. I was job, that’s fine,” I interrupt him. “But what about all the other stuff? What about coffee every morning and watching LOST over the phone together every Wednesday night? I mean, you flew out to see me in Georgia last summer and now I have no idea what to think of that. Was that you acting as my friend or was that because Christian was freaked out about me being alone so he sent you to check on me?”

“It was me,” He says. “All those things were just me. I didn’t mean to get close to you, Ana. It just happened. I care about you, not as a client, but as my best friend. That was real, it still is.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Christian?”

“Because then he would have brought me back here,” He says. “There wouldn’t have been coffee every morning or LOST on Wednesdays or crazy hikes up mountains and I didn’t want to lose that. I saw how you were after he betrayed you. He hurt you and you shut him out completely. I thought that if you knew the truth, you’d do the same to me and I didn’t want that. I know that’s selfish but… I work as CPA and my entire life is my job. I don’t have a family, I don’t have friends. You’re it… and I miss you.”

“If that’s true, then why have you been acting so cold to me all week? You know me better than almost anyone else in the world and you’ve been treating me like a stranger.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just don’t know how I’m supposed to act around you at work. Mr. Grey wasn’t thrilled when he found out how close we were and I just thought if any of that showed at work, it might make things difficult… for both of us.”

“Well I don’t like it,” I tell him. “If you don’t want to be my friend anymore because it’s too hard with Christian or Taylor or whatever, then that’s fine, I guess… but if you’re here tonight because you want to be friends then you can’t treat me like that, even at work. It’s weird and it makes me question your intentions. I don’t want to live some kind of weird double life with you.”

“Okay, then I’ll stop. We’re friends. All the time,” He says.

I let out a long breath and look down at my fingers. “I just need to know… were you spying on me for him? I mean, I told you a lot of personal things. Did all of that make it back to Christian?”

“No,” He assures me. “It wasn’t like that. I really only spoke with Taylor and my reports to him were not personal in nature.”

“I want to believe that,” I tell him. “But it’s hard, Luke. I mean, how am I ever going to be certain you’re around because you’re my friend and not because he’s asked you to be?”

“Because I’ve sat through It Happened One Night with you thirteen times,” He says, a smile creeping across his lips. “That’s true friendship. No amount of money in the world is worth that.”

I glare at him, fighting hard to keep myself from smiling back. He raises an eyebrow at me, challenging me, and for the first time since I saw him that morning he told me he was leaving Cambridge, he looks like Luke again.

“Well then I suppose it’s time to put your money where your mouth is,” I tell him, getting up from the couch and crossing the room for the cabinet under the TV. I search through the line of DVDs until I find the title in question and then pull it out and hold up It Happened One Night for him to see. He sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Bring it on, Ana,” He says, and I laugh, put the movie in the DVD player and plop down next to him on the couch to finish eating.

To emphasis his point that he’s been forced to watch this movie too many times, he recites most of the dialogue for the first hour, but gives up when he realizes it isn’t bothering me. Instead, he scoots into me to rest his head on my shoulder, sighing with dismay every few minutes.

“I just don’t understand how you don’t like this movie.” I say. “Don’t you know that Clark Gable is like the original Hollywood heartthrob?”

“Yeah, but I’ll only ever be able to see him as Rhett Butler. Gone with the Wind has ruined his entire body of work for me, as well as my will to live,” Luke replies sarcastically.

I laugh and my phone buzzes next to me. I look down and see a Seattle number I don’t recognize. I pick it up and look suspiciously at it before showing it to Luke.

“True or False,” I begin. “This is Christian calling me.”

“I don’t know,” He shrugs. “I don’t recognize the number.”

I sigh and answer the phone. “Hello?”

“Ana, it’s Mia,” She says, catching my attention immediately and causing me to sit up as I realize that she sounds panicked. “I’m in trouble. Can you come and get me?”

Next Chapter

The waiting room of Dr. Flynn’s office is small with an eclectic assortment of outdated furniture and several back issues of Better Mental Health Magazine. The only sound in the room is the steady click-clacking of the receptionist’s fingers on her keyboard, but the quiet has a soothing effect on me. I spent most of the way over here crying in the front seat of Elliot’s truck, but now, sitting in this slightly moth eaten chair alone with my thoughts, the tears have stopped and I feel a welcoming sense of calm.

It makes me wonder if perhaps Dr. Flynn is pumping something more than lavender fragrance through the air vents.

“Ana,” Dr. Flynn calls as he steps through the door on the other side of the waiting room. He waves me forward and I get out of my chair and walk into his office with him. The room looks almost exactly like I would have pictured it, right down to the dark-chocolate leather chair sitting directly across from the padded chaise lounge. I sit nervously on the edge of the couch, feeling like some kind of mental case.

“Thank-you for coming to see me, Anastasia,” Dr. Flynn says when he sits in the chair across from me. “What can I do for you today?”

“It’s been a bad day,” I say quietly.

“I thought that might have been the case. It looks like you’ve been crying, is everything okay?”

“No, I’m not okay. He’s doing it to me, lying to me, all over again. I feel like I’ve been hit by a train or at least that one is chasing me down, but now I can’t step off the tracks without setting myself back in school or letting down all the people I care about. I don’t know what else to do… so, I need you to say more things about the victim grooming or the traumatic bonding or whatever other horrible thing has happened to him that make people willing to look past things like this.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” Dr. Flynn suggests.

“He hired someone to spy on me while I was at school,” I tell him, as the tears spring to my eyes again. “He paid this guy named Luke to pretend to be my friend so that he could keep tabs on me. He deliberately put someone in my life without my knowledge to gain my trust and when he didn’t like how his fake friendship was progressing, he took Luke away from me and brought him back here to Seattle. I’ve spent the last five weeks trying to figure out what I did wrong, what I did that made Luke stop talking to me and it turns out he just never cared about me at all. He was never my friend, he was just some guy doing his job.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Anastasia,” He says, reaching over to hand me a box of tissues. “This news must have come as quite the shock.”

“Yeah, it did. So if you could just start with whatever it is that you do that will make me forgive him…” My words trail off.

“Is that why you’re here? You want to forgive him?”

“Well… yeah, I have to. I’m kind of stuck here. I’m his intern. I live in his freaking building… I’m not going to be able to avoid him like I did in Cambridge so I guess I just have to find a way to get over it. That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? You’re his psychiatrist, you’re supposed to make me want to be a part of the team and help him get better.”

“Ana, I’m not Christian’s psychiatrist right now, I’m yours. I’m here to help you.”

“No, Christian’s the one in therapy,” I say defensively. “I’m not in therapy.”

“Well, if you’re not in therapy, then you’ll understand why I’m a little confused to see you on my couch instead of Christian.”

“Well… I-I,” I stutter and then stop, because I don’t have an answer for that.

“Why are you here, Anastasia?” Dr. Flynn asks.

“I told you, he hired someone to follow me around and I mean for years. I’ve known Luke since the beginning of my Sophomore year.”

“I don’t mean why are you in my office, Ana. I mean, why are you here, in Seattle? You’re an intelligent young woman with an impressive academic resume from the most prestigious school in the United States. Surely you had your options when it came to choosing a summer internship. Why is it that you chose to work for Christian?”

“He paid for my tuition last year.”

“So… you feel indebted to him?”

“Sort of… I didn’t ask him to pay for it. I didn’t want him to pay for it. He just did it, and he did it behind my back like he does everything else. So, now I have to try and find a way to repay him. This was kind of my only option.”

“So you took the internship for tuition money?”

“Essentially.”

“Well, I think this situation is very simple then. I don’t see any reason why you have to forgive him.”

“What?”

“If you’re here for tuition money, you don’t need to have a personal relationship with Christian at all. All you need to do is show up to work everyday and do what is required of you until the end of the summer.”

“But he’ll be there too. I can’t see him every day and not talk to him. I can’t be his intern and be mad at him all the time.”

“Why not? Do you always maintain close, personal relationships with your employers?”

“No, but this isn’t just some employer, this is Christian. I’m close to his whole family and we have a history, a long history that’s complicated and… I mean, even if he pisses me off, I still care that he’s getting better, and that he’s working on his relationship with his family, and that he’s getting away from Elena,” I pause but Dr. Flynn just stares impassively at me, almost like he doesn’t believe me, and so I continue, feeling some weird, compulsive need to defend my choices.

“It’s important to Grace and to Elliot that Christian gets help and that he gets to a good place. I want that for them. I care very deeply about them and… I mean, I care about Christian, too. I want it for him, too. He’s my first love and I saw first hand how awful his relationship with Elena was. Just because I’m mad doesn’t mean I want him to be constantly miserable or stuck in this cycle of abuse. He can be a real ass, but he doesn’t deserve that. He’s smart, and hard working, and, when he’s not around the awful bitch troll, he’s caring and generous. I want what’s best for him.”

“So, even though you’re struggling with forgiveness for Christian, you still care about him and want what’s best for him,” He sums up. “Why is that, do you think?”

“Because I love him,” I say too quickly for me to call back the words.

Oh shit.

I look guiltily up at Dr. Flynn who raises an eyebrow at me. “So it’s not just tuition money?” He asks.

“No, it’s not just tuition money,” I admit. “Don’t judge me, okay?”

“Why would I judge you?”

“Because he lied to me, and betrayed me, and hurt me, and I still love him. I mean, what he did to me really screwed me up for what felt like a long time. I should hate him. When I talk about him, it should be in terms of my biggest mistake or regret, but that’s not how I feel. I know that after what happened, after breaking up with him, that that should have been it and I should have moved on, but I just don’t know how to fall out of love with him and it makes me feel weak, and stupid, and hopeless. I wrote a whole book about it and I still can’t move on. I mean, you want to talk about traumatic bonding, well there you go.”

“There is no correct way for you to feel, Anastasia. There are no shoulds, there are only ares. It sounds to me like a lot of what you’re struggling with comes from telling yourself what you’re feeling is wrong, but, nothing you feel is wrong, Ana. You feel what you feel, and that’s okay. You and Christian were in love, deeply in love from what I’ve gathered from speaking with the two of you. I don’t believe that your connection with him is because of traumatic bonding.”

“Really? Because he hurt me and obviously I seem to be ready to line up for more.”

“Well if you think that’s a possibility, we should talk about it. Did Christian ever physically abuse you?”

“No.”

“Was there ever a time when you experienced doubt in him or in your relationship and he tried to turn it around on you or made you feel like you were acting crazy?”

“No.”

“Did he attempt to isolate you from your friends or family?”

“No… I was closer with my mom when I was with him than I’d ever been before and he gave me a new family in the Greys.”

“Did he use lies or try to manipulate you in order to undermine your self-esteem?”

“No, he basically put me on a pedestal.”

“Did he attempt to continuously keep you low on money so that you couldn’t leave him?”

“Obviously not. He’s always been very generous.”

“Did he tell that you he loved you?”

“Everyday.”

“Do you believe he meant it?”

I nod.

“Well, that doesn’t sound like an abusive relationship to me. Quite the contrary. It seems to me that you shared a very healthy, loving bond.”

“But he betrayed me and everyone that he loves. He railroaded his father’s career, he basically broke his mom’s heart, he lied to me over and over again, and now with this Luke thing… there’s only so much one person can take.”

“I think what I’m hearing is that the underlying issue here is trust. Is that correct?”

“Exactly. I mean, I want to be here. I want to help him and I want to be in his life, but what if I let him back in and he hurts me all over again? After today, it seems less like a possibility and more like an inevitability. I can’t go through this again. It’ll break me this time.”

“He made a poor decision, Anastasia,” Dr. Flynn says. “Not just with the trial but with this Luke person too, and he can be regretful and apologetic but he can’t erase what he did. What you do with what has happened is up to you. I don’t believe he’s being malicious in his actions. As hard as it is to see, I do believe that his intentions are good, his execution is just poor. Now, I may have more insight into his state of mind than you do because it seems to me that, rather than talking through your issues with Christian, your instinct is to run away when you get scared. You’re protecting yourself, and that’s a completely understandable reaction, but this hurt isn’t just going to go away. You either need to deal with it or let it go. Do you want him out of your life again?”

“No… but that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to be pissed off that he hired somebody to follow me around without my knowledge. I can be pissed off that he paid someone to be my friend and got me to confide in him as some kind of twisted way to stay in my life when I was very clear that I didn’t want to have anything to do with him.”

“Of course you can. You’re entitled to a reasonable amount of privacy and he violated your trust. We’ve already discovered that trust is an issue with you. Frankly I feel like anger is a completely natural reaction to the situation.”

“Then why do I feel like this? Why can’t I just let him go?”

“What do you think?” Dr. Flynn asks.

I stare back into his piercing blue eyes that feel as though they can see right through me. Just his stare is like a battering ram, forcing it’s way through the walls I’ve built around my feelings for Christian, until I’m forced to admit what I’ve refused to allow myself to think over the last two years.

“Because I don’t want to,” I say quietly.

“Then what do you want?”

“Right now, I want to get over this Luke thing so that I can go to work tomorrow without humiliating myself again by screaming at the company’s CEO.”

“Then what?” He asks, and I look back at him confused.

“What you mean? Isn’t that enough for now?”

“You’re thinking day to day, Anastasia. I assume that’s because limited, short-term planning was the coping mechanism you used after all this trauma, but I want to know your end goal. What does moving past all of this look like for you? When you imagine yourself in a happy, healthy state of mind and well-being, what do you see?”

“I don’t know,” I tell him. “I think to even be able to imagine that place I’d have to deal with everything that’s happened. I know it’s necessary, but I just don’t want to and I don’t know why.”

“Because it’s hard.”

“But I still want to help. I think that I’m the only one that can. I just don’t know how I can help him if I don’t trust him.”

“Ana, if you’re not ready to give him a chance to prove to you that he wants to change, then you won’t be any help to him. I can hear how hesitant you are to open this door and I can sense how difficult it will be for you to trust him again. That might not go away, and if you feel like his betrayal is too much for you to forgive, that’s okay. It is not your responsibility to save him or try and make him better. He has a family that loves him very much and wants to help him, you can leave this to them. This is your choice, but if you don’t want to try, you need to let him go because this game you’re playing with yourself where you are pining over him one minute and hating him the next will be extremely damaging… to both of you.”

“But… I don’t understand. That’s almost exactly the opposite of what you said to me last night. You said that my role in Christian’s recovery was important.”

“And I think it is, but only if you’re all in, and from what I’ve gathered from this conversation, you might not be. It’s not my job to push you into this. That has to be your decision, Anastasia, and no one else can make it for you.”

“So what do I do then?” I ask, but he shakes his head.

“What do you want, Anastasia?” He asks.

What do I want? Well, if I’m being honest with myself, what I want is to get back what I had before all of this ever happened. That’s the Christian I miss. That’s the Christian I love and the Christian I can’t let go. But that’s just not possible…

“What are you thinking about, Ana?” Dr. Flynn asks after what feels like several minutes of silence.

“That what I want is to go back to before the trial and to just spend one more minute with the Christian who made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. Who could make everything else around us disappear with just the way he looked at me. To the Christian who changed who I am as a person because he loved me so deeply that it opened my eyes to what love really was. But that’s unrealistic. He’s changed now.”

“He’s still there, Ana,” Dr. Flynn says quietly. “Deep down, past all the of the anger and all of the hurt, he’s still there.”

“So, how do I get him back?”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes, that’s what I want.”

“Well, then we’ll start by working through some of your trust issues and try to get you to the place where you can accept that he’s still the person you used to love, even though he hurt you. We need to figure out what it’s going to take for you to forgive him. You’re hanging onto a lot of pain. We need to find what it’s going to take for you to be able to let go.”

“I just need to know that he’s sorry and that Elena Lincoln is unequivocally out of his life, for good,” I tell him.

“No, that’s what he needs to do, Ana, and while that’s important and you won’t be able to move on without his participation in this process, that’s not what it’s going to take for you to heal.”

“I don’t understand what that means,” I admit.

“Well then, I think we should start by setting up a few standing appointments for us to explore this more together. I’d like to see you a few times a week, even if it’s just to check in to make sure that you’re handling everything alright. In the meantime, I think it’s important for you to establish boundaries between you and Christian and for you to be very clear with him about what those boundaries are until he makes the necessary progress for you to feel comfortable increasing the level of intimacy in your relationship. You two have to start communicating if you’re going to move past this together and since it seems to be very hard for you to keep a dialogue going when the conversation moves into painful territory, I think establishing those boundaries will make this easier for you.”

“What do you mean by boundaries?”

“Limitations or rules about how you two interact with each other, especially physically.”

“Physically? You mean, like… no sex?”

He laughs. “No, I don’t think you should have sex, but I’m thinking even smaller than that. No physical contact at all, no matter how innocent it may seem. When you spend time together, it should be pre-planned and it should be casual. Keep your relationship light and fun… friendly. You should talk about your feelings and your concerns with him and I would challenge you to not only listen to him, but to really hear what he has to say. I don’t want you to fight with him unless it’s constructive. Honestly, I’d love to have a joint session with the two of you, if you are willing, so that you can both express yourselves in a safe, productive environment.”

“I can do that.”

“Excellent, then I will discuss that with Christian in our next session together and see if we can’t work something out.”

“Okay.”

“Then I’ll have you go work out our schedule with Clara, my receptionist, and we’ll get to work.”

“But what about Luke?” I ask.

“What about him?”

“I’m still mad.”

“Well of course you are, you haven’t had any kind of resolution. We can talk about it in your next session and try to work through that anger, but there is no quick fix for me to give you.”

“But I have to see Christian at work tomorrow.”

“Then maybe you should talk to him,” Dr. Flynn suggests. “This sounds like an excellent opportunity for you to share your feelings with him and explain how his actions have hurt you.”

“But… but…” I stutter, but, again, Dr. Flynn just stares impassively back at me and I let out a huff of irritation. “Fine, but don’t be surprised if he misses his next session because I’ve literally ripped his head off.”

“As long as you feel that’s constructive,” Dr. Flynn says. I roll my eyes at him and storm back towards the waiting area.

“See you in a few days, Ana,” Dr. Flynn calls out as the door closes behind me. I approach the desk and wait patiently as Clara looks through Dr. Flynn’s schedule for openings. She gives me a calendar with my appointments marked on them and I leave the office feeling flustered.

That didn’t help at all.

Well, except that I know what I want now. And there’s a plan… sort of.

I grit my teeth together. Dr. Flynn did warn me that none of this would be easy, I just didn’t realize it would get this difficult this fast. Really, I have to stop avoiding the confrontation. He’s right and the real reason we’re stuck in this place is because I’ve refused to deal with the issue. If I really do want to get back to what I had with Christian, and I do, then I’m going to have to do my part and talk to him, no matter how bad it hurts.

I groan as I realize that, despite my best efforts, therapy seems to be working.

The sun is sinking low in the sky as I make my way down the street back towards my apartment. Thankfully, Dr. Flynn’s office is just around the corner from Escala so it’s not too far to walk, and I use the few blocks I have to travel to rehearse what I want to say to Christian tomorrow. I guess this whole “boundaries at work” thing is going to have to be delayed until after the Luke issue gets resolved and, as I try and force myself to accept that, I kick a pebble on the sidewalk as a way of expressing my dissatisfaction. I already feel like I embarrassed myself in front of the entire eighth floor today and I don’t think starting drama with Christian at work is going to make working alongside Andrea and Leila for the summer any easier.

When I get back to Escala, I walk into the elevator with the intention of going straight to bed once I get upstairs, but then I hesitate when my eyes fall on the button for the penthouse. I purse my lips together while I war with this new decision. I know what I need to do and this could be my chance to avoid having this discussion at work. Dr. Flynn told me to set boundaries between Christian and I, and I know that’s necessary but, technically, I already told Christian I’d come over tonight… Surely, that means I’m not breaking the rules.

Satisfied with my justification, I pull out my cell phone and dial Elliot’s number but it goes to voicemail so I try Kate.

“Hey, Ana,” She answers. “Elliot told me what happened with Luke, are you okay?”

“Not yet,” I tell her. “Do you know the elevator code to get into Christian’s apartment?”

“You’re going to Christian’s apartment?”

“Yeah, I think it’s better to talk about this now rather than at work tomorrow, but I don’t have the code.”

“You’re going to talk to him?” She asks, surprised.

“Apparently,” I reply.

“Oh. Well the code is 091088,” She recites.

My birthday.

“Thanks, Kate,” I tell her.

“Sure. Call me if you need anything, even if it’s late. I’m here, Ana. Let me know how it goes.”

“I will, thank you. Love you, Kate.”

“You too. Good luck!”

I hang up the phone and then reach forward and press the “PH” button. Again, I hear the robotic voice come through the speaker in the wall.

“Please enter your passcode.”

There is a small number keypad next to the speaker and so I reach out and diligently press 0-9-1-0-8-8, and the moment I enter the last number, the elevator hums to life and I’m whisked up to the 30th floor.

It’s slightly disorienting when the elevator arrives because I discover there isn’t a hallway or even a front door. When the elevator doors slide open, it’s directly into Christian’s apartment and I feel a little guilty. If I’d known the elevator would just let me off into Christian’s entryway, I would have called him for the code. I thought I’d at least get to knock on a door…

I step forward into a high ceilinged foyer and I’m immediately overcome with a strange sense of unease. Kate wasn’t exaggerating about Christian’s apartment. I can see into the living room from where I’m standing and, even from here, I can tell how spacious it is. I can see part of the amazing view of Seattle, but, like his office at GEH, everything that I can see is completely barren. If I didn’t know for certain that Christian lived here, I’d swear the apartment was unoccupied.

I take a tentative step forward but before I even make it out of the entrance hall, I hear footsteps echoing through the vacant apartment and a man in a sharp, black suit, who I vaguely recognize as the same man who I saw get out of the car through my kitchen window in Cambridge, comes around the corner.

“Miss Steele?” He asks with surprise, though perhaps not as much as the surprise I feel that he knows who I am. We’ve never even been introduced…

“Yes, uh, Taylor, right?” I reply.

“Yes ma’am. Can I help you?”

“Is Christian here?”

“He’s in his study,” Taylor says, and he turns around and leads me through the living room, down a side hallway, and then knocks gently on a closed door.

“What!” I hear Christian snap angrily, and Taylor turns the knob and eases the door open enough for him to stick his head inside.

“I’m sorry for the interruption, Mr. Grey, but Miss Steele is here to see you.”

“What?” Christian says again, although this time his voice is shocked rather than angry. “Let her in.”

Taylor opens the door the rest of the way, stepping aside for me to pass, and I walk into the office to find Christian sitting with Elliot in the two chairs placed directly in front of his desk.

“Ana?” Christian asks, as if he doesn’t really believe I’m here.

“Hi, Christian. Can we talk?” I ask.

“Yes, of course. I’d love that,” He says quickly, and then he turns to look at Elliot, who quickly vacates his seat and hurries across the room.

“You okay, Ana?” Elliot asks, placing himself in between Christian and I, but when I nod, he grips my shoulder affectionately and then disappears through the door with Taylor. Christian and I stare at each other for a minute and I realize that he’s waiting for me to speak first.

“I’m not fired, right?” I ask as I begin walking forward to take Elliot’s seat.

“Fired?”

“For leaving work.”

“You mean, you want to come back?” He asks, hopefully.

“If I still have a job.”

“Of course you still have a job,” He says. “Ana, I’m so sorry. I fucked up with this whole Sawyer situation, I know that, and I’m sorry.”

“I just don’t understand… How could you possibly think this was a good idea? I mean, seriously, what were you thinking?”

“I told you, I just couldn’t stop worrying. I was obsessing over it. Six people died in Grays our first year, you were attacked in your own dorm room. I couldn’t stop thinking about it and I was terrified something might happen to you and I wouldn’t be there to stop it. I hired Sawyer to keep you safe. I never intended for him to be apart of your life. He was supposed to be invisible, but you caught him watching you one night when he was following you back to your car from the library, so he made up a lie about being campus security and you believed him. I didn’t tell him to lie to you but… when he did, I didn’t bring him back either, and I should have. I’m sorry. I thought it was a good enough story to keep him there so that he could protect you and that’s all I cared about. I never intended for you two become friends. You’re just too charming for your own damn good.”

“So because I believed the lie, you think that’s an excuse to try and control my life?” I ask as I narrow my eyes at him.

“No, I didn’t. I wasn’t. He was just there to look out for you. I wasn’t using him to control you. I hardly ever even talked to him, Taylor was his contact.”

“Really? Then how do you explain Carter Reed?” I ask. “That night when Kate and Elliot were at your mom’s birthday dinner, Carter was studying at my house, and you called, and he answered the phone, and then Luke showed up a little while later and chased him out. You really expect me to believe that was a coincidence?”

He pauses and then sighs.

“I panicked,” He admits. “I hadn’t had to face the idea of you moving on with someone else yet and when I did, and when it was that fucking douchebag, Reed…  I panicked. I did call him that night, and I did ask him to find out what was going on at the house, but I promise that wasn’t the norm. Very little rational thought went into my phone call to Sawyer that night.”

“First off, there’s nothing going on between Carter and I. He’s just my friend, but even if he wasn’t and I really was trying to have that kind of relationship with him, that’s none of your business. You don’t get to dictate who I have in my life, especially since you’re still involved with…”

I stop myself from saying her name and take a deep breath. This is going to be more difficult than I thought.

“You can say it, Ana,” Christian says, but I shake my head.

“Why did you bring him back here?” I ask. “I didn’t know he was working for you, his cover was fine. You knew we were friends, why did you make him leave?”

“Because he forgot what his job was,” Christian says.

“What?”

“He knew I was coming into town that weekend you went off with him to Vermont. I know Taylor made my expectations of him very clear for that weekend, and not only did he completely disregard his orders by taking you out of town and stealing the first chance I had to see you since you left me, but then he took you up a fucking mountain with absolutely no regard for your personal safety. I hired him as a CPO and clearly he was unable to adequately fill that role. You should have never been able to talk him into something that reckless.”

“Christian, he didn’t take me out of town. I was going to go with or without him, and since Kate and Elliot had to stay behind with you, either he was going to go with me, or I was going to do it alone. I had no intention of seeing you that weekend, he didn’t take that away from you. Besides, he didn’t even know what we were doing that weekend. The mountain climbing was my idea and I kept it a secret from him because I knew that if I told him beforehand, he’d try and talk me out of it, or try and stop me. I was going up that mountain because it was something I needed to do. You can’t say he forgot what his job was because going up that mountain with me was his job. He was just making sure I was safe.”

“Do you know how incredibly stupid that was, Anastasia?” Christian asks in a low voice. “You don’t know the first thing about mountain climbing. You took no safety precautions… You could have been seriously injured, or killed. Do you know what that would have done to me? Do you know what that would have done to Kate or Elliot or… your dad?”

I flinch. “I wasn’t really thinking about that at the time.”

“Obviously.”

“Don’t try and change the subject, Christian. This isn’t about the mountain, this is about Luke. This really hurt me. He was my best friend, he felt like family and you know, with Ray gone, that’s something that I’ve missed. Do you know how much time I’ve spent over the past few weeks trying to figure out what I did to make Luke want nothing to do with me? I thought that because I’d made him lose his job, that he hated me and he would never speak to me again, and that killed me because I really believed he was my friend.”

“That’s my fault, too,” He says, dejectedly. “He put up a fight for you, Ana. He did everything he could to stay in Cambridge, but I wouldn’t listen. When he got back, I was so angry about the whole situation that I told him if he contacted you again, he’d lose his job. In fact, if Taylor hadn’t stepped in, he wouldn’t have been transferred, he would have been unemployed. I issued him a new company phone so he wouldn’t have your number and so that you couldn’t contact him. He didn’t abandon you, he doesn’t hate you. Your friendship was real, not something I forced him into to keep tabs on you.”

“You forbid him from talking to me?” I ask in a low breath.

“I’m sorry, Ana. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It seems like everything I do to try and keep you safe or make you happy ends up just hurting you and that’s not my intention. You deserve so much and I want to give it to you, but somehow I always seem to fuck it up. I know you’re pissed at me and you should be. This is my fault and I own that. If I could change it, I would. If I could do it over, I would tell you upfront, try to explain, even if I had to do it through, Elliot. The way I handled this was stupid and it was selfish. I can see that now and I’m really sorry.”

“The lies have to stop, Christian,” I tell him. “Seriously, no more lies, no more secrets.”

“No. No more secrets,” He agrees.

I take a deep, cathartic breath and exhale loudly. “Then since you were honest with me and I do believe that you’re sorry, I accept your apology and we can try to start over.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” I tell him, and I’m surprised by the amount of relief I feel. It’s like all the tension in the room has evaporated and once again, in the absence of anger, there is a sense of comfortable familiarity between Christian and I.

“I’m sorry I called you a psychopath,” I tell him. “I was angry and it just kind of came out. I can understand why you were concerned and you didn’t deserve to have me say that to you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Ana,” He replies and, slowly, a small smile crosses his lips. “It’s actually not the first time someone has called me that. Perhaps it’s something I should discuss with Flynn.”

“Oh, Flynn…” I sigh, and then I look back up at Christian, because there’s something that has been nagging at me. “Can I ask you a question?”

“What?”

“You could have just fired Luke once I accepted the internship and I wouldn’t have ever found out what you did, but you didn’t.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Okay, why didn’t you?”

“He’s a good employee,” Christian shrugs, but I raise an eyebrow at him and he exhales sharply. “I didn’t fire him because… he’s your friend and I love you. I didn’t fire him because I didn’t think you’d forgive me if I did. I knew that if I didn’t tell you, somehow, you’d find out eventually and there would be no coming back from that. I don’t want to lie to you anymore. I don’t want to keep secrets from you. I want us to move past this because more than anything else in the world, I just want you.”

I feel my blood heat at his confession because, for the briefest moment, I see just a glimmer of the Christian I used to know. Maybe Flynn is right, that Christian is in there somewhere and even after everything that’s happened, I still feel a rush of joy hearing those words come out of his mouth.

“Have you forgotten?” He asks, quietly. “Don’t you remember what we had, what it was like before all this shit happened?” His gaze is intense, baring into me, and it makes my skin tingle. I bite down on my lip, trying to stay coherent as all the memories I indeed have not forgotten come to my mind. As he stares at me, waiting for my response, he drags his index finger across his bottom lip and I shudder slightly. The memories of his mouth are especially vibrant…

Stop it, Ana. Boundaries.

“No, I haven’t forgotten,” I tell him. “But I’m not ready for that kind of relationship between us, Christian. There’s still just so much left unresolved. I can’t even think about any of that unless I feel like I can trust you again.”

He nods and then it’s quiet between us. I glance around his office, looking for something to distract me from my wayward thoughts, but there’s nothing.

“Why are you living like this, Christian?”

“Like what?” He asks.

“Like this,” I say, gesturing to the walls around us. “With no furniture or anything on the walls. Why is your apartment so empty? And don’t tell me it’s because you can’t afford to furnish it, because I won’t believe you.”

He laughs and then glances around the office. “I don’t know,” He says after a brief pause. “I just haven’t really noticed.”

“I don’t think that’s true. You furnished my apartment, after all. I know you’re a busy guy, but there are people you can hire to decorate for you.”

“I just don’t see the point,” He says. “I’m the only one that’s ever here and I have a place to work, a place to sleep, and a piano. What else do I need?”

“How about a place to sit or a place to eat?” I suggest. “Seriously, this kind of freaks me out. It feels like we’re squatting or something and the real apartment owners are about to bust in any second and have us arrested.”

He laughs again. “Well, fortunately, I’ve made several large donations to the Seattle Police Department. I think they’d go easy on us.”

“Oh nothing warms the heart like good old fashion police corruption,” I say with a giggle, and he smiles at me, a genuine, warm smile that reminds me just how beautiful he is, and again, just like in his office, and I feel the tingle again.

Don’t look at his mouth. I warn myself.

“Are you hungry?” He asks. “I could have Mrs. Jones make us something for dinner.”

“Mrs. Jones?”

“My housekeeper.”

I roll my eyes. “So you can’t remember to furnish an apartment, but you can remember to hire someone to clean it?”

“Furniture doesn’t feed me,” He says, standing up and holding his hand out for me. “Come. Let’s get something to eat.”

“Do you have forks?” I ask sardonically, purposefully avoiding his hand as I get to my feet. Dr. Flynn said no touching.

He frowns at my aversion, but continues with his easy tone. “Plates too, if you’d believe it.”

“So you do live here?” I ask with a laugh, and he shakes his head with exasperation before leading me out to the kitchen.

Mrs. Jones is an attractive woman, probably in her early forties, who seems to be so excited for the chance to cook for more than just one person that she shows off a little. While she busies herself about the kitchen, Christian turns to look sheepishly at me.

“When I asked you to dinner earlier, I’d planned to have someone set up a table for us. After you stormed out of my office this afternoon, I didn’t expect to see you tonight so I never made the arrangements.”

“So… a picnic then?” I suggest, optimistically. His expression is dubious, so I take the place mats and the dishes Mrs. Jones has laid out on the counter and place them on the floor in the living room next to his piano. He smiles a charming, boyish grin, and disappears into the kitchen for a bottle of wine.

Mrs. Jones’ Thai peanut and chicken pasta is delicious, especially since I haven’t had anything since the salad I hardly picked at over eight hours ago, and Christian and I enjoy the meal and the crisp white wine together while we reminisce over memories from our freshman year. I think I’d forgotten how easy it is to talk to him, how much I love to hear him laugh and see him smile.

“I think you’re over exaggerating,” Christian says as he pours me another glass of wine.

“I am not, you were grumpy all the time!” I say defensively.

“Only because you seemed to be a magnet for every horny asshole on campus looking to find their way into some girl’s panties.”

“Like you?” I ask.

“Hey, I may be an asshole, but at least I was suave about it.”

“Suave?” I repeat, not hiding my laugh at his choice of word.

“Oh yeah. I charmed the pants of you… literally,” He says, and his eyes glimmer wickedly.

I laugh again. “Still, you had your moments. Do you remember that time when you got mad at me for like three days just because I had a class with Astor Harrington?”

“Don’t go re-writing history, Anastasia. You didn’t just have a class with him, you were with him every time I saw you on campus,” He says, and his expression sours. I wonder if that’s because he’s just remembered the reason why Astor was around me all the time…

“It wasn’t all the time,” I say, circumventing the Elena topic, yet again, before he can bring it up. “You just overreacted. Remember when I told you I was thinking about going back to Georgia for the summer and you dragged me into the bathroom on the airplane to argue with me about it? Typical Christian overreaction.”

“If I remember correctly, that argument ended very well for both of us,” He says with a smirk. “Besides, if I was prone to overreaction it was only because I was usually irritated by Ros being such a constant pain in my ass. Not that that’s changed…”

“Ros!” I shriek. “I didn’t get to see her today!”

“Well, you should see her tomorrow,” He says. “She works about twenty feet away from your desk. She has a new intern this summer too”

“Oh I know,” I say, rolling my eyes as I take another sip of wine.

“Do you?” He asks, his curiosity peaked.

“Yeah, he was in orientation with me. I didn’t talk to him much but he really comes off as a sexist prick.”

“Really?” Christian ask and then laughs so hard his head tilts back a little. “Well, that’ll be a fun summer project for Ros. I can’t wait to see what happens the first time he says something to piss her off.”

“That was what I thought,” I say. “Poor guy.”

I turn to place my wine glass back on the floor and as I do, my hair shifts over my shoulder and falls into my face. Christian reaches up and brushes his fingers against my face to capture the loose strand and then tucks it behind my ear. I freeze as the contact sends a shiver down my back. I look over and see something dark and tantalizing in his gaze that immediately sends a wave of heat over my skin.

“Uh…” I say awkwardly. “Speaking of work, I should, um… I should probably go.”

“Go?” He asks.

“Yeah, we’ve both got an early morning.”

“I think you should stay,” He says in a low voice that is almost a whisper.

“No, I shouldn’t,” I reply.

“Why?”

“You know why,” I reply, and he takes a deep, resigned breath and then gets to his feet, reaching out his hands to help me up. I shake my head and get to my feet on my own.

“Why do you keep doing that?” He asks.

“I uh… I saw Dr. Flynn tonight. He thinks that if we’re going to try and work this out, we need to have boundaries and one of those boundaries is that we can’t touch each other.”

“Flynn said that?” Christian asks irritably.

“Yeah, he said that if we’re going to hang out it needs to be pre-planned and casual. We have to keep this platonic for as long it takes for us to work out our issues.”

“I’m not entirely sure I agree with his recommendation,” Christian says.

“Well, I do. Boundaries are important for me right now,” I tell him. He gives me a pained look and then sighs.

“Fine,” He agrees, and then gestures for me to walk ahead of him towards the foyer.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks when I push the elevator call button, and it’s hard to ignore the uncertainty in his voice.

“Bright and early, Mr. Grey,,” I tell him.

“Good. I look forward to it, Miss Steele,” He says as the elevator pings and the doors slide open. I look up at him once more and in the moment when our eyes lock… I feel it. It’s like a charge of electricity or a magnetic pull between us. He looks down at me, his eyes focused on my lips, like he’s going to lean down to kiss me, and for a brief moment, against my better judgement, I want him to. I’m nearly lost, feeling warm and flushed, and I don’t know if it’s the wine or the way he’s looking at me.

New rule, no alcohol around Christian.

“Goodnight, Christian,” I whisper as I come to my senses and step into the elevator. I reach out and press the button for the 14th floor and then give him a small smile until the doors close and the elevator begins to descend.

When I get back to my apartment, I dump my bag onto the table in the entryway and head straight back to my bedroom. It’s only 8:30 but I think I’m just going to go straight to bed. Today has been long and emotionally draining and I’m just ready for it to be over.

And it’s only day one. I think to myself as I crawl into the bed and immediately close my eyes. The last thing I’m aware of before I drift off to sleep is the image of Christian standing in front of me as I got ready to head back downstairs, only when conscious thought ends and dreams take over, I don’t get on the elevator.

Next Chapter

 

It’s early when I wake up Monday morning, but I’m too anxious about work to feel tired. I’m going to see Christian today, and I’m very conscious of that fact as I get ready. I condition my hair twice and am absolutely meticulous when shaving my legs in the shower. When I’m finished, I spend a great deal of time blowing my hair out and carefully applying my makeup. I’ve decided on a pair of beige colored skinny trousers and a flowy, navy blouse with white polka-dots to wear today, but as I stand in front of the mirror, I wonder if it’s too casual. I haven’t been to GEH before and I’m not sure how people dress there, but I have a feeling it might be a strictly suit and tie kind of place.

Before I get the chance to decide whether or not I want to change into the black pencil skirt and blazer that was included in what Kate brought over for me last night, there is a knock on my apartment door. It’s Elliot, here to pick me up on his way into the office. It’s his first day too and he has an early meeting with Christian, as well as the architect, contractors, and project manager at Grey Construction.

“Good Morning!” Elliot says when I open the door. “You ready?” He’s dressed in a navy suit with a crisp white shirt and deep blue tie and it makes me think I really should change.

“Uh… I don’t know. Do you think I look okay?” I ask.

“You look fine,” He says, “We’ve got to go or we’re going to be late.”

“I think I should change first.”

“We don’t have time. You look fine, Ana. Seriously.”

“Okay…” I say hesitantly, and then pick up my purse and the manila envelope with my internship information in it off the table by the door. I double check my make up one last time in the mirror and then follow Elliot into the hallway and down the elevator. We have to walk up the long walkway towards the back of the garage since Elliot has parked in one of Christian’s parking spaces, and as I climb into the front cab of his truck, which is difficult as it’s several feet off the ground and I’m in heels, I notice that the black SUV that was parked next to the Maybach is missing, and I wonder if that means Christian has already left for work.

There is a new car there, though. A new looking white Audi that doesn’t seem like something I would picture Christian driving, and I eye it suspiciously.

“Who’s car is that?” I ask.

“Uh, I think that’s Gail’s car,” He answers, looking over his shoulder to back out of the space.

“Who’s Gail?”

“She works for him.”

“Oh,” I reply. Well at least I know it’s not Elena, although I realize now it was kind of stupid to make that assumption. If it was Elena’s car, Elliot would be upstairs handling it, rather than here in the car with me.

“You nervous?” Elliot asks as we pull onto Virginia St. and immediately take a right on 5th Ave towards downtown.

“A little,” I reply honestly. “I’ve wondered what it would be like to see him again for two years now and it’s kind of turned into this momentous thing, you know?”

“Well if it makes you feel better, I know he’s nervous too.”

“Yeah, well he’s my boss now so that kind of gives him the upper hand.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Elliot replies.

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s just say you look very nice today,” He says, but even though I continue to stare at him expectantly, he doesn’t elaborate any further.

It’s a fairly short drive, only about eight blocks through downtown, to GEH, which is good as I think there will probably be a few days when I’ll have to walk to work. As we circle around the building for the parking garage, I find myself underwhelmed. I suppose I’d probably built the company up a little too much in my head because when I see the eight story, standard concrete structure punctuated by lines of uniform squares of windows, rather than some colossal, architectural marvel stretching so high into the sky it seems to disappear into the clouds, I’m a little disappointed. Just compared to Escala, this building is entirely ordinary, not a place I would imagine houses one of the most powerful companies in Seattle. But I suppose that’s why Elliot is here.

We pull into the garage and into the first available place we can find. There are a number of really expensive looking cars parked in the rows leading up to the elevator, but the only one I really focus on is the black SUV that was missing from Escala in the space at the front marked Reserved.

I take a deep breath when I hear the electronic chime that announces the elevator’s arrival and then nervously step through the doors. Elliot presses the button for our respective floors, the doors close, and we make the short journey up to the lobby where I’ll be getting off.

“Good luck, Ana,” Elliot says, waving after me as I step out onto the main floor. I smile back at him and when the elevator doors close again, I turn around to take in my surroundings. The interior of the building is much more contemporary than the drab exterior would suggest. The floor is composed of large stone tiles that are so clean and shiny, I can make out my muted reflection in them. The walls around me are painted a soft graphite color and in front of the giant windows at the front of the building, which flood the entire lobby with bright rays of sunlight, there are a several modern looking, white leather chairs and a few tables made out of shiny metal. Directly across from me, is a long desk made of the same material as the floor with the word “GREY” mounted on the wall behind it in large, bold letters and the additional “Enterprises Holdings INC” written below. Seated at the desk is a pretty blonde woman in a well-tailored black dress, who gestures for the man to whom she’s speaking to take a seat in one of the leather chairs.

I cross the lobby with quick, purposeful strides that I hope exude confidence, and approach the desk.

“Good morning, and welcome to Grey House,” The woman at the desk greets me. “How may help you?”

“Good morning, my name is Anastasia Steele, I’m starting my internship today.”

“Oh, welcome to GEH Miss Steele,” The woman says with a smile. She picks up an iPad off her desk and touches the screen a few times before turning and smiling at me again. “You’re all checked in. If you’ll just have a seat in the waiting area, our HR director will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you,” I tell her, and then turn around to take a seat next to the man who spoke with the receptionist right before me. He looks about the same age as I am, as are the other three people sitting with us, another guy and two girls, so I assume they’re all new interns too. We all exchange nervous, awkward glances with one another until our attention is drawn by the loud clacking of heels against the tile floor and another blonde woman, who’s dressed in a charcoal gray suit and black silk blouse, approaches, looking at all of us with a wide smile.

“Good Morning! My name is Michelle Menke and I am the HR Director here at Grey Enterprises Holdings. If you’ll all follow me, we’ll head back to the conference room and begin your orientation.”

I get up and follow the others past the elevators to a fairly large meeting room with a long wooden table and several, black leather office chairs in the center. We each take a seat and then turn our attention to Ms. Menke.

“Welcome!” She says brightly. “I’d like to begin by offering my congratulations to each and every one of you. Out of the over 200 applications GEH received for the summer internship program, you were all identified as our top five candidates. This internship program is highly competitive and it is Mr. Grey’s hope that you leave GEH at the end of the summer with a plethora of experience that prepares you for life after graduation. Now, we’ll be together until about lunch time and then I’ll release you for training in your new departments, but first I think we should all get the chance to get to know one another. I’d like for each of you to share with the group, your name, where you’re from, what school you attend, and what department you’ll be working in for the summer.”

She looks expectantly at the red haired girl sitting across the table from me who stutters for a moment before introducing herself.

“Uh… my name is Tabitha Brooks. I’m a finance student at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, I’m originally from Grand Rapids, Michigan, and I will be spending the summer working in the accounting department.”

Tabitha turns to look at the guy seated to her right, who speaks with an almost arrogant confidence. “Hello, my name is Brian Clark, I am from Portland, Oregon, I’m studying business at USC, and I’ll be interning with the acquisitions division.”

“Oh, then you’ll actually get the chance to work fairly closely with Mr. Grey and Ms. Bailey,” Ms. Menke says.

“Yes, I am really looking forward to getting the chance to work and learn directly from Mr. Grey. He is one of the people I look up to most in this world, and I’ve had the opportunity already to speak with Ms. Bailey. She seems like a… competent woman.”

I raise an eyebrow at him as his sentence trails off. The way he describes Ros as “competent” leaves the impression that he very rarely uses that term to describe women and I almost want to laugh when I think about what Ros will do with that kind of attitude. This poor guy has no idea what is waiting for him.

“My name is Daniel Warren,” The next guy begins. “And I am from St. Louis, Missouri. I am studying Information Technology and Development at MIT and I will be working with the Fiber Optics and Technology Development department this summer.”

“Hi, I’m Suzannah Evans and I am from New Haven, Connecticut. I attend the University of Pennsylvania, where I study marketing and that is the department I will be working in this summer.”

Everyone’s eyes turn to me and I take a breath before I begin. “My name is Anastasia Steele, I’m from Montesano, Washington, and I am studying English at Harvard University.”

“Oh, Mr. Grey graduated from Harvard!” Ms. Menke says excitedly.

“He didn’t graduate,” I correct her, but then immediately regret it when her eyes, and the eyes of everyone in the room, widen with shock, as if daring to impugn the educational pedigree of the CEO is horrendous crime.

“Well, while I suppose that’s true…” Ms. Menke responds in a careful voice. “Mr. Grey is an exceptionally intelligent man who I’m sure was an excellent student.”

“Oh… yeah. I mean, he’s brilliant, obviously,” I correct myself quickly, feeling my face flush with heat. Ms. Menke, gives me a tight lipped smile and then looks as though she’s going to move on, for which I’m grateful, but Suzannah stops her.

“You didn’t say what department you’re interning for,” She says.

“Oh, I uh… I’m actually here for a special project. I’ll be working in Mr. Grey’s office.”

“Like an assistant?” Brian assumes, and I glare at him.

“No, I’m here to help him with a new expansion he has planned,” I say, and he rolls his eyes like he doesn’t believe me. I look back at him, shocked by his audacity. If this guy is seriously going to be working with me in Christian’s office, there’s going to be a problem.

After introductions, we begin the long, arduous process of filling out paperwork. The amount of legal documents I have to sign for what is supposed to be a standard summer internship is astounding. There are the typical I-9 and W-4 forms to fill out but we’re also given paperwork to sign, which informs us that the company holds the right to conduct regular background checks and random drug tests. We have to sign a consent for video surveillance, union membership disclosure, social media agreement…

“What is this?” I ask as I skim through a document that is so full of legal jargon it’s difficult to understand.

“It’s a non-disclosure agreement,” Ms. Menke replies. “Basically it states that you will not share any information regarding management to the press or divulge policies, trade secrets, confidential material, or any information regarding your position or the company in general to industry competitors.”

“What do you mean by industry competitor?” I ask, and she raises an eyebrow at me.

“Why are you asking? Do you feel you’ll have a problem adhering to the guidelines of the NDA?” She asks.

“Well, industry competitor is broad term. GEH owns a telecommunications company and my best friend is interning for Kavanagh Media. If I talk to her about my work day am I going to be in breach of contract?”

“Of course not, Miss Steele. It’s simply a way for the company to protect its innovative practices, which have led to unprecedented success, from making it into the hands of our direct competitors,” She says. “You have to sign it. I can’t pass you along to your department without it.”

I roll my eyes and sigh as I scribble my name onto the signature line and hand Ms. Menke my completed packet of paperwork. Once we’re all finished filling out the forms, she gives us a short presentation on the brief, although “vastly impressive” history of GEH, and on the different departments in the company, what they do and where they’re located in the building, or in some cases where they’re located in the city as several divisions were unable to be housed in this building due to space limitations. When that’s finished, a man named Matthew Ryan from the GEH security office takes our finger prints and pictures for our security badges, and then gives us a rundown of the security procedures that have to be adhered to by all GEH employees. We end with Ms. Menke discussing employee conduct including the rules for dress code (leaving me with the impression that I was right to think I should’ve changed this morning), telephone and computer usage, lunch and break times, attendance, and email etiquette.

Finally, just before noon, Mr. Ryan returns with our official GEH security badges and we’re released for lunch with the instruction to report to our respective departments in 30 minutes. I head to the deli across the street and buy a small salad and a Diet Coke, which I only eat half of as I’m in a rush to make sure I make it back to work on time. As I walk through the glass doors and back into the lobby, my heart begins pounding.

This is it.

Once I’m in the elevator, I reach out to press the button for Christian’s floor, and then concentrate on my breathing as the doors close. As I stare anxiously up at the numbers climbing higher and higher over the doors, I begin to hear the rippling sound of the papers in my hands and I realize it’s because I’m shaking. There is a loud ping announcing my arrival to the eighth floor and I do my best to push aside the nerves and stand tall and confident as the doors slide open.

Just outside the elevator is a small room that is aesthetically identical to the reception area on the main level. In front of me, I see a set of double doors with the standard GREY logo frosted onto the glass on each side. There is a small black pad to the left of the door with a red light in the top left corner, which I assume is where I’m supposed to swipe the security badge to gain access, but when I press my badge against the pad, nothing happens. I try again three more times but still, the light remains red. I reach out and tentatively pull on the door handle, but it doesn’t open. The sound of the door clunking against the lock as I pull does catch the attention of the two blondes sitting at the desk just on the other side of the door though, and one of them hurries forward and peaks her head through the door.

“Can I he—” She begins, but her voice cuts off as she looks at me, and her eyes widen with surprise. I stand there awkwardly for a moment while she gapes at me, until she seems to remember herself and she continues. “I’m sorry, um… Are you, Anastasia Steele?”

“Yes,” I say, relieved. I was almost worried I’d come to the wrong place when my badge didn’t work.

“Wonderful, come on in. Did they give you a security badge downstairs?” She asks.

“Yeah, but it didn’t work on the door,” I say, holding it up for her to see as she leads me towards the desk where the other blonde is sitting, though judging by her dark eyebrows, her light, platinum locks aren’t natural, which makes me wonder if there’s some unwritten rule here about being blonde. Have I seen a single female employee here who wasn’t blonde? I don’t think that’s legal…

“Well, once we get you settled in, we can take it over to the security office and have them correct your permissions,” Blonde number one tells me. “My name is Andrea Parker and I am Mr. Grey’s personal assistant, and this is our receptionist, Leila Williams.”

She gestures to blonde number two, who looks at me with the same kind of surprised confusion Andrea did when she first let me in the door.

“Hi Leila, I’m Ana,” I tell her, reaching out to shake her hand, and although she takes my hand in hers, her gaze doesn’t change. She stares almost disbelievingly at me for a moment before her eyes rake over my hair. The shock in her gaze makes me feel as though my theory about the blonde prerequisite is confirmed, or possibly just that I have food on my face.

“Hi,” She says at last and then she releases me to answer the phone which begins to ring on her desk. “Christian Grey’s office, how may I direct your call?” She answers.

“If you like, you can put your things in this drawer here,” Andrea says quietly while Leila helps the person on the phone. I place my things in the drawer and then stand awkwardly behind the desk for what I’m supposed to do next. When Leila hangs up, Andrea picks up the handset from the phone next to what I assume is her computer and then dials a four digit extension.

“Mr. Grey, Miss Steele has arrived,” She says into the receiver a second later. She listens intently for a moment and then says, “Yes, Sir.” Before hanging up the phone and turning back to me.

“If you’ll just wait here for one second, I’ll be right back,” She says with a smile, and then she disappears down a hall to the right of the desk. I settle down into the chair next to Leila and look around the room.

“So how do you know, Mr. Grey?” Leila asks, turning to me with interest.

“Oh… um, we went to school together. He lived in my dormitory at Harvard my freshman year and we had a class together,” I say, trying to keep it simple. I don’t think it’s a good idea to advertise to the people of GEH how… intimately I know the CEO.

“Oh, you go to Harvard? That’s amazing! Normally, you wouldn’t think a girl as pretty as you are would end up in a school like that,” She says, and the backhanded compliment takes me by surprise because I can’t tell if it’s intentional or she’s just really that obtuse, but I decide to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“I don’t know…” I say. “I mean, my best friend Kate goes to Harvard too and she’s gorgeous.”

“Really? Does she also know, Mr. Grey?” Leila asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, she’s been dating Elliot, uh… his brother, for 2 ½ years now.”

“Oh, well she’s a lucky girl then. Elliot Grey is a very attractive man,” She says.

“All the Grey men are,” I say, but she doesn’t return my smile. Instead she gives me a nasty kind of grimace and then turns back to her computer. It’s weird that this girl seems to be having such a hostile reaction towards me, she doesn’t even know me.

“Anastasia,” Andrea says as she comes around the corner again.

“Yes?” I reply.

“Mr. Grey will see you now.”

My nerves are peaked again when I stand from my chair and walk around the desk to follow after Andrea. She leads me down a long hallway, past the closed doors of several offices and conference rooms, until she stops in front of a set of double doors. I step forward as Andrea moves to the side to allow me to pass and push open the door, taking extra precaution to step over the lip on the floor that is a tripping hazard if I’ve ever seen one. I couldn’t imagine a more embarrassing way to see Christian after all this time than sprawling head first onto the floor of his office.

The office is huge, big enough that I find myself wondering whether it had been two large offices at one time, but it’s also strikingly empty and a little dark. Besides the shades covering the windows, there is nothing on the walls. There are no plants, no bookcases or filing cabinets, no furniture at all besides the two chairs and the desk they’re placed in front of where the man, who is the reason I’ve been reduced into a tightly wound ball of anxiety all day, sits staring intently at me.

I realize in this moment that my memory is terrible. The images of him that I’ve kept in my mind, that I’ve played over and over again in my dreams, don’t do justice to the beauty of the man before me. He does look a little different but I’m not sure if that’s because his body has changed or if I’m just not used to seeing him dressed in a suit. His hair is in complete disarray, but that’s always worked for him, and he has facial hair now. Not a full beard, just scruff that looks as though he just hasn’t shaved in a few days. His eyes seem darker somehow and I can almost feel the intensity of his gaze barring into me, like heat.

Surprisingly though, as I look back at him, I feel most of the nervousness that has had me tied up in knots all morning, melt away. I expected seeing him for the first time would feel weird but it doesn’t. It feels… very normal. Too normal. Relieving, almost.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hi,” He repeats, and even though his tone is low and even, I detect the smallest hint of nervousness. We stare at each other for another long beat and then he gestures to one of the chairs across from him.

“Have a seat,” He says, and I’m surprised that his tone is more of a suggestion than a command. Maybe Elliot was right, maybe he’s been just as anxious about this meeting as I have.

I walk forward and sit across from him and see his Adam’s apple jump as he swallows. He looks as though he’s trying to figure out where to begin.

“You look good,” I tell him, trying to break the ice.

“You look thin,” He says, his response coming so quickly I wonder if it’s something he’s been fixating on since I walked through the door.

“Yeah, I run now,” I say. “Turns out you were right and working out regularly helps you lose weight and makes you look good. I should have listened when you tried to get me up to go to the gym with you.”

“No, you were perfect, you are perf- I, uh…” He stutters, and I feel a smile creep across my lips.

“Relax, Christian,” I tell him, and he nods and takes a deep breath.

“How’s school?” He asks, calmer now and with a practiced kind of authority in his voice.

“Good. I haven’t gotten my final grades back yet but I think I did pretty well,” I say. “This is all very impressive, GEH I mean. You really did it. You did everything you said you would and you built something incredible. I’m… I’m proud of you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, I didn’t want you to fail. I just wish you…” I stop and shake my head slightly, trying to change direction. Dr. Flynn said it was important to be supportive, and to not use language that attacks Elena. If that’s how it has to be, it’s just better that I don’t mention her at all. Besides, I don’t want to bring this up at work. If I’m going to be here every day there needs to be a clear separation between what goes on here, and what goes on outside of these walls.

“I just want you to be happy,” I say instead.

He diverts his eyes for a minute, looking as though he’s trying think of how to reply, so I try and come up with something else non-consequential to keep it light between us.

“You have a beard now,” I observe aloud, wishing I could have come up with something even just slightly more clever, but to my relief he chuckles slightly and reaches up to run his fingers over the stubble on his chin.

“Yes, I’m really a changed man,” He says, and his response makes me giggle. I watch his eyes warm and it makes the last of the tension I feel melt away.

“So I’ve heard,” I tell him. “I uh… I saw your family last night.”

“Yeah, my mom called me this morning. She was really happy to see you.”

“Me too. I’ve really missed her.”

“I know, I felt the same. I didn’t realize how much I missed her until I went and saw her a few weeks ago. It feels really good talking to her again. And of course, Mia.”

“Oh my god, Mia!” I exclaim. “I didn’t even recognize her when I first saw her. She’s…”

“An adult,” He finishes for me.

“Exactly! I was floored when I saw her! Seriously. She’s absolutely beautiful.”

“Yeah, that’s going to be a problem,” Christian says bitterly, making me laugh again. “I really couldn’t believe it when I saw her,” He continues. “I mean, she’s my baby sister but she’s… not a baby anymore.”

“Has she told you about Juilliard?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“And… did she tell you how your dad is reacting to her wanting to go there?”

“Yes.”

“Well how do you feel about that?”

“I feel like she should go to Harvard,” He says, and it surprises me.

“Really? I thought you of all people…”

“I’m not anti-education, Ana,” He interrupts me. “I didn’t feel it was necessary for me, but Mia is different. I want her to be the very best she can be and as much as I know she loves dancing, she could be so much more than that.”

“But it’s what she wants to do,” I argue. “Is she really making more of herself if she’s not doing what she’s passionate about?”

“I don’t want her to give up ballet,” He says. “I haven’t given up the piano. I just want her to find a real career. I mean, ballerinas make something like, $20,000 a year, that’s not even a livable wage, and she’s far too intelligent and capable to have to live that kind of life.”

“It’s not all about money to some people, Christian. Are you saying, if she chose ballet, you wouldn’t help support her?” I ask.

“Of course I would, what do you think all of this is for? I just worry that in ten years when she’s not as… nimble as she is now or she blows out a knee, she’ll regret not going to school, and I don’t want her to have any regrets.”

“You know… you sound an awful lot like your dad,” I suggest, and he rolls his eyes and shakes his head for a minute, then changes the subject.

“Elliot tells me you’ve written a book,” He says.

“Yeah, I finished it a few weeks ago. One of the students over in the law school at Harvard is helping me get a copyright and it’s being edited over the summer. Dr. Ralston, he’s the head of the English department at Harvard, he’s going to help me try and get published next year.”

“I’d love to read it, Ana.”

“Oh… uh, I don’t know,” I say dismissively, and he raises an eyebrow.

“You don’t want me to?”

“I just don’t think you’d like it. It’s, uh… it might be a little personal for you.”

“It’s about me?”

“Well no, and… yes. I mean, it’s fiction, but it’s about… well, it’s about us and what happened. It’s about what I went through afterwards.”

“I see…” He says, and he looks down at his fingers for a moment before looking back up at me. “Ana, I-“

“Nope,” I say, cutting him off. “No, no, no. Not here. Christian, I think it’s important that we keep this as a safe place for us, for me. We have to be here every day and that means that whatever drama is happening in our personal lives can’t be here too. Otherwise, it’s going to be messy. When we’re at work, you’re my boss and I’m your intern. That’s it… okay?”

“Okay,” He agrees. “But… we can talk, right? You said that if I tried to make it up to my family, we could talk. I’ve tried, I am.”

“We can talk,” I assure him. “Of course we can talk. Just not here.”

“Okay,” He nods. “How about tonight? My place? We can have dinner.”

“Your place?” I ask hesitantly.

“I promise, just dinner,” He says quickly. “I uh… I can’t really go out in public without the attention from the press and I’d rather what we have to talk about not make it into the Seattle Times.”

“Oh… yeah. Um, sure, we can go to your place. For dinner,” I add quickly. “Just dinner.”

“Just dinner,” He agrees as he smiles back at me. “I’ll make the arrangements. Is seven o’clock, okay?”

“Seven o’clock is fine,” I tell him. “So… I guess I should get to work, but I don’t really know what that is right now…”

“The project I have planned for you isn’t ready yet,” He tells me. “I’m going to need a couple more weeks, so I thought in the meantime, you could just help Andrea until I find something else for you to do.”

“Sure,” I agree. “I’ll go find out what she needs me to do, then.” I stand up and turn for the door but he stops me before I can move forward.

“Ana… uh, there’s one more thing that we need to talk about, and it can’t wait until tonight.”

“What?” I ask suspiciously as I lower myself back into the chair.

“Okay… um, I want to be honest with you because I really do want to make this work, and in the spirit of honesty, I have to tell you about something that I’ve done that I don’t think you’re going to be very happy about.”

“No, Christian. Not here,” I repeat, standing up too quickly, as if the sudden motion will cause the images of Elena that come to mind to fall out of my head and onto the floor.

“Ana, it really can’t wait. Seriously. Even if I don’t tell you now, you’ll know in about fifteen seconds anyway,” He says, “I want it to come from me, so please, just… sit down.”

I give him a pained look as I sit back down in my chair. I really, really don’t want to do this here but since he knows that and he’s being this insistent, it must be important. I take a deep breath to brace myself.

“What?” I ask quietly, staring down at the desk rather than back at him and feeling an overwhelming sense of dread.

“I was worried about you,” He begins hesitantly. “That whole first summer after you… uh, after you went to Savannah. I couldn’t stop thinking about you alone on that campus. I mean, after that whole stalker ordeal with Kate, I just couldn’t convince myself that you’d be safe. So, I hired someone…”

“You hired someone to what?” I ask suspiciously, but rather than answer me directly, he presses a button on the phone on his desk.

“Mr. Grey?” A deep voice answers.

“Taylor, will you send Sawyer in here,” Christian asks, and the minute the words are out of his mouth, I feel a deep sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Sawyer?” I repeat hoarsely, and a second later I hear the door open behind me. I turn around and… he’s there, my best friend, looking at me with such shame that if I didn’t feel as though someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over my head, it might’ve made me want to cry.

“Ana-” Luke begins, but I cut him off immediately.

“Corporate security?” I ask, my voice a cold accusation.

“It wasn’t a lie,” Luke says and my vision goes red.

“It wasn’t a lie? That’s your defense?” I spit back at him. My brain is racing as I try and process what is happening. I’ve known Luke for two years, he’s been there for me in a way that Kate never could because of her loyalty to Elliot, whose focus has always been Christian. He was the person I could really talk to, who I could lean on and go to for unbiased advice. But him standing there makes me realize that all of that was a lie. He’s been working for Christian the whole time, probably reporting back everything I’ve said to him.

“You hired someone to be my friend so you could spy on me?” I demand, turning my angry gaze on Christian.

“No, that wasn’t my intention,” Christian says quickly.

“Oh, really?” I snap back. “Please enlighten me then. What exactly were you trying to accomplish by artificially placing someone in my life to gain my trust?”

“I just needed to know you were safe,” Christian says, and it triggers an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu. I did this for you. He always goes back to that, justifying his bad decisions as thinking of someone else, but he’s not thinking of anyone else, he’s only thinking of himself. Luke wasn’t there to keep me safe, Luke was there to keep an eye on me so Christian knew what I was doing.

“Whatever was going on with me, whatever is going on with me, is none of your business, Christian. You lost the right to be in any part of my life when you made your choice two years ago,” I tell him, coolly. “I seriously can’t believe you did this. You’re so far over the line with this one, I can’t…” I turn back to look at Luke, who is watching me carefully, and the look in his eyes, like a friend who is truly concerned about my feelings, makes me nauseous. I need to get out of this office, it’s too overwhelming having both of them staring at me. I’m furious but I know from experience that the anger is temporary and whatever is waiting underneath will be much worse and harder to handle. I don’t want to face that at work. This is exactly the type of situation I told Christian I wanted to avoid in the office.

“I can’t do this,” I say, standing up from my chair and glaring at Christian. “I really thought I could handle this but I can’t. I was willing to give you a chance to prove that it was a fluke, that it was all just a horrible mistake, but, clearly, it wasn’t. You weren’t confused or broken, you were showing us who you really were. A selfish, controlling psychopath, and I can’t do this with you. This is done.”

“Anastasia!” Christian calls out for me and I whip around to face him, my harsh glare burning with the fire of my rage.

“Don’t!” I scream at him. “Don’t you dare come after me.”

He gapes at me, shocked, for a moment, and I turn back for the door. As I walk forward, I see Luke hesitate, like he’s debating whether or not to stop me, but he ultimately steps aside and lets me pass. I storm back up the hallway where Andrea and Leila are both seated behind the desk, chatting with each other. They stare at me with confusion as I yank open the drawer with my things inside and begin pulling them out hastily.

“What floor is Grey Construction on?” I ask, but Andrea is so taken off guard by the hostility in my voice, her response is less of an answer and more a jumbled mess of confused filler words.

“Grey Construction,” I repeat. “What floor is it on?”

“Four,” Andrea says, and I turn around and angrily stomp my way towards the double doors.

“They never last,” I hear Leila say behind me, but I ignore her and step forward to pound on the elevator call button. The doors slide open and I hurry inside, choose the button for the fourth floor, and then begin furiously pressing the door close button over and over again.

The fourth floor is much more open than the eighth. There is no security door blocking my entrance, but there are multiple departments on this floor, so I have to find the Grey Construction suite number before I’m able to get to Elliot’s office. Thankfully, he’s alone, examining a set of blueprints on his desk, when I burst through the door unannounced and slam it closed behind me.

“Ana?” Elliot asks, concerned when he looks up and sees me on the edge of hysteria.

“I can’t do this,” I tell him. “I can’t be on the team. I thought I could, but I can’t. I can’t be supportive if he keeps doing this to me over and over again.”

“What happened?” Elliot asks, his voice tightening as he narrows his eyes at me.

“Luke.”

“Luke? Like, your friend Luke? What does he have to do with Christian?”

Well, at least Elliot didn’t know.

“Christian hired him to spy on me. He works for Christian’s security team. Luke has just been pretending to be my friend so that Christian could keep track of me these past two years.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Elliot groans.

“No,” I say, and the tears finally begin to break through the anger. “It was all a lie. Everything.”

“Hey, Ana,” Elliot says, crossing the room and wrapping me in his arms. “Don’t cry, it’s going to be fine.”

“What am I supposed to do, Elliot? I don’t… I mean, I’m stuck here. God, I’m such an idiot! I let him lure me back in and now I’m surprised that he hurt me again? It’s literally my first day, I have three more months of this. What am I going to do?”

“Well, you have two choices,” Elliot says. “You can quit. You can go back to Escala, pack up your things, move in with me or Kate for the summer and cut him out of your life again. Or you can face it. You can try to work this out with Christian and with Luke and do what you can to move past it, at least until your internship is over. You choose. It’s up to you, Ana. Look, I know my family has put a lot of pressure on you to help Christian but it’s not worth having you help him if it’s going to break you. You need to do what’s best for you and whatever you choose to do, I’ll stand by you.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on Christian’s side?” I ask quietly. “I thought you said family was most important.”

“You are family,” He replies, and I smile into his shirt for a second and then step back and look at the floor in silence while I decide what I want to do. Elliot’s right, I could quit, pack up my things, move in with Kate, and chalk all of this up as a huge mistake, but that feels like I’d be losing more than anyone. This summer isn’t just about helping Christian, this internship is important for my future. It’s the last opportunity I have to gain any kind of real world experience before I graduate and I can’t waste it. I didn’t work as hard as I did in school only to struggle finding a job because I don’t have Christian’s stupid letter of recommendation stapled to my resume.

“What do I do to try and work it out? I don’t even know where to start. How do you deal with this, Elliot?” I ask, knowing he’s better at accepting people in spite of their shortfalls than anyone I know.

“Maybe you should call Dr. Flynn,” He suggests. “He told us if we’re having any problems dealing with Christian to come talk to him. Maybe he can help.”

“Maybe… yeah,” I nod.

“Take the rest of the day off, Ana. Go see Flynn. Use the time to decide what you want to do.”

“I don’t think you have the authority to offer me that, Elliot,” I reply wryly.

“Sure I do. It’s my name on the door after all,” He says smugly, and I laugh as he pulls me into a hug once more. “Come on. You can call Flynn’s office and let them know you’re on your way. I’ll drive you over there.”

“Thanks, Elliot,” I say gratefully, and then follow after him towards the elevators.

Next Chapter

When I make it back to the house from turning in my Race in Post War Fiction final, Kate is waiting impatiently in the living room, pacing across the floor in front of the window.

“What took you so long?” She asks when I walk through the door, “It’s after ten. We really have to get on the road.”

“I know, I know,” I tell her as I scramble to gather the last few things that I haven’t already packed in her car. “I’m sorry, that final had way more essay questions than I was prepared for.”

We spend the next ten minutes double checking that we remembered to turn off the gas and the water, adjusted the thermostat, and that all the doors and windows are locked. On our way out the back door, Kate assures me that she remembered to have our mail forwarded to our respective addresses back in Washington, which has been worrying me all morning since I forgot to give Ray my new mailing address in the letter I sent him last night. I suppose that since I’m going to be stuck in the car for most of the next four days, I could write him again and then mail the letter from one of the hotels we have booked along the way.

I climb into the front seat of Kate’s car, waiting while she tries to stuff one last duffle bag into the too full back seat before slipping through the driver’s side door.

“You ready for this?” She asks.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I tell her while I reach around and pull my seatbelt down over me. In reality, I’ve been dreading this road trip since I agreed to go back to Seattle. It’s four long days, stuck in a car, while driving through a lot of open nothingness. Unfortunately, Kate needs her car back home and I didn’t want her making the drive alone. So, rather than buying a plane ticket, I agreed to come with her. Still, on the list of things that have my nerves peaked, the drive falls pretty low compared to what I know is waiting for me in Seattle. Christian and I have been talking pretty regularly over the last few weeks, just a few, short phone conversations two or three times a week, and it’s been civil, but it’s also been superficial. Once I’m back in Seattle, we’re really going to have to face what happened and I don’t even know where to begin.

“I know it’s a long drive, but cheer up,” Kate says brightly, interrupting my concerned thoughts. “I’ve got tunes!”

She reaches down for the iPod connected to her stereo through Bluetooth and, although I don’t see the song she puts on, I recognize it within the first few seconds it begins playing. It’s the Spice Girls’ Wannabe. We grin broadly at each other and begin singing along as she puts the car in reverse and backs out of the alley behind the house we won’t see again for the next three months.

As we weave through the streets of Cambridge, I stare thoughtfully at the tops of the buildings and trees on campus that I can just make out over the houses around us, and I feel a kind of nostalgic sadness cross over me. My junior year is over, I’m almost finished here.

“Kate, do you realize we’re going to be seniors when we come back here?” I ask.

“Weird, right?” She says, looking over her shoulder so she can pull onto the freeway.

“I don’t know if weird is the right word…” I tell her. “I really love it here and this time next year, we’re going to be saying goodbye for good.”

“Yeah, I really love Seattle though,” Kate says. “I mean, it was fun living on the east coast for a while, but, once school’s over, I’ll definitely be ready to move home.”

“Hm,” I hum in reply, and she glances over at me with a furrowed brow.

“You are moving back home, right? I mean, when we graduate, you’ll go back to Washington, won’t you?”

“I don’t know, I guess it depends on where I get a job,” I tell her.

“What!” She cries. “Ana, you have to come home. We’ve been inseparable since the start of college. You can’t break up the dream team now. If you move somewhere else, it will crush Elliot. And what about Ray? He’ll be home next year!”

“Well, of course I’m open to any jobs in Seattle, Kate. But I have to go where the money is and all the largest publishing houses are in New York.”

She narrows her eyes at me but then brightens a little as if something new has occurred to her. “I don’t know why we’re talking about this anyway. Your book is going to be published by the time we graduate, you won’t even need a job. Just a quiet place surrounded by friends and family where you can settle down and start writing your next novel.”

“I mean, maybe,” I tell her with a shrug. “But, that’s not necessarily my dream, Kate.”

“So your dream is working in a publishing house? What are you going to do, edit other people’s work when you could be creating your own?” She asks as if she thinks it’s a step down from doing nothing but writing books all the time. “You’re too good for that, Ana.”

“There are other jobs in publishing houses besides editing,” I reply. “Look, we have a whole other year of school left before we have to start worrying about who’s doing what and who’s ending up where. Let’s cross this bridge when we get to it.”

She purses her lips together like she’s trying to stop the torrent of arguments I know are racing through her mind from coming out of her mouth. It’s actually surprising. Kate usually isn’t one to hold back what she’s thinking or how she feels, but perhaps she’s being cognizant of the fact we’re going to be cooped up in this car together for the next few days and a few miles outside of Cambridge is not the best place to start an argument. Instead, she turns her iPod back up and we sing along to a long list of songs that make me think of middle school until the late hours of the night turn into the early hours of the morning and a very tired Kate pulls into the hotel we’ve booked in Toledo, Ohio.

We’re back in the car first thing the next morning, and it’s Kate’s intention that we continue driving until we reach Bismarck, North Dakota, an astounding 13 ½ hours away. It’s exhausting watching the invariable scenery of the mid-west pass us by and makes the hours seem to drag on and on. By the time the sun starts to go down, we’re both so bored out of our minds that we’re not even capable of keeping up a conversation, which is perhaps the only reason why I hear my phone vibrate in my bag on the floor by my feet.

“It’s Elliot,” I say, when I read his name on the screen of my cell phone.

“Oh, do I have a missed call?” Kate asks, and while she looks down at her own phone, which is wedged between her thighs, I answer the call.

“Hey, Elliot. Here’s Kate.”

“I didn’t call to talk to Kate,” Elliot says curtly. “I called to talk to you, Ana.”

“Oh…” I say, confused by his less than warm demeanor. “Well, what’s up?”

“Did you know?”

“Know what?”

“Did you know why he did it? Did you know that he lied on the stand because she gave him money to start his company?”

“Uh…” I stutter, suddenly taken off guard.

“That’s why you two broke up isn’t it? You were fine, you were going to forgive him, and then suddenly, you were gone. You ran away to Savannah, you refused to see him, and refused to take his phone calls. You found out the truth and that’s why you left him, isn’t it?”

I pause for a moment. “Did Christian come talk to you?”

“Did you know, Anastasia?” Elliot asks, ignoring my question.

“Yes, I knew,” I admit, and he’s silent for a minute on the other end of the phone.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks, the pain breaking through the anger in his voice. “We’ve all been trying to figure out what she had over him to make him do what he did. Why didn’t you say something?”

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I thought it might ruin any chance your dad ever had of forgiving Christian and I knew how important that was to you and your mom… It made me leave him and I didn’t know if it would make you do the same thing. You’re all he has.”

“So you were protecting him?”

“No… I mean, maybe, I don’t know. Elliot, your family was falling apart and I thought that if I was the one to tell you, the damage would be irreparable. It’s not that I wanted to hide it, I just thought Christian should be the one to tell you. I thought him coming clean was the only way you’d all be able to move past it.”

“Well he did.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, he just left my parents’ house.”

“H-how is your Dad?” I ask.

“Honestly, I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything and I don’t know if that’s better or worse than the yelling.”

“Maybe he just needs some time to process it… It’s good though, right? He told the truth. He owned up to it. That’s progress.”

“I don’t know… I’m going to go over to Christian’s apartment tomorrow to talk to him about it, let Dad cool off a little. I just can’t believe this is all because of money. I mean of all the stupid shit…”

“I know,” I say quietly.

“You’ll be here by Sunday, right?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re going to have a dinner at my parents’ house that night, and you need to be here.”

“With Christian?”

“No, just my mom and Mia… and hopefully my dad, although after what Christian just told us, I don’t know. Christian said he has work obligation this weekend so we thought we could use the time to kind of regroup and come up with a game plan now that you’re in town. Since you’ll be at work with him everyday, you’ll probably be around him the most and we just want to make sure we’re being consistent.”

“Okay,” I tell him. “Uh… Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“You’ve been around him a lot, right?”

“More than anyone else. Pretty much whenever he’s not at work. Why?”

“Has he… I mean, have you seen him contact Elena at all?”

“No, and he doesn’t talk about her. I asked him a few days ago when he last heard from her and he said not since he’s talk to you.”

“And you believe him?”

“I have to,” Elliot says. “We all do. We’re never going to be able to move past this if we never trust him. I believe that he is doing everything in his power to make this better. I think that’s why he came here tonight. He wants to get back to a good place with us, with you. He’s trying.”

“You amaze me, Elliot,” I tell him truthfully. “When I found out the truth about why he did it, I… well you know what I did. You’re an amazing brother to stand by his side and support him unconditionally the way you do and I want you to know that, just in case Christian hasn’t said it.”

“Well, you don’t get to pick your family and at the end of the day, they’re all you have in the world. That’s all that matters to me.”

“I know,” I tell him “And… when you see Christian tomorrow, tell him I said hi.”

“I will,” He promises. “I’ll see you Sunday, Ana.”

“Bye, Elliot.”

“Bye.”

I hang up the phone and take a deep breath as I mull over the conversation. Christian told his Dad. I wasn’t sure if the therapy and reaching out to his mom and putting up with Elliot were just something he was doing to appease me, but telling his dad is something different. He’s finally taking some responsibility for his mistake.

“What was that about?” Kate asks.

“Uh… Christian told his dad why he lied on the stand.”

“What!” She gasps, “What did he say?”

“He lied because Elena paid him to. She’s the one who gave him the money to start GEH.”

“Are you serious?” She asks, and I nod. “I knew it! I knew it! I knew it was too much of a coincidence that he got start-up money right after the trial. What did Carrick say? Is he freaking out?”

“I don’t know.”

“Wow… I wonder if Carrick is going to do anything?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Christian took money to cover up a crime. That’s bribery.”

“And perjury,” I add.

“Exactly, he could go to jail for that. I honestly can’t believe he’d take that risk. I mean, think of what that would do to his company. This could be a PR nightmare, he could lose business deals and fall out with all of his contacts. He could lose everything. He must be really serious about making this up to you, Ana.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“So… the question is, how do you feel about that? I mean, we know why he’s doing it. He’s still in love with you and this is what you asked him to do. Apparently, he doesn’t think there is a price too high, so… is there even a possibility that you may take him back?”

“I don’t know, Kate.”

“Well you said you loved him and that you miss him. Isn’t this what you want?”

“I just don’t know if I could trust him again. I mean, I know he’s reached out to his family and that he’s trying to make amends, I can see that. But if I were to ever get involved with him again, I would need to know that Elena Lincoln was completely out of his life, and,  even though Elliot says he hasn’t talked to her, for some reason, I just don’t trust it. I mean, she was gone before, he’d cut off contact with her before and she clawed her way back to him. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to certain that she’s gone, and how do you have a relationship with someone you can’t trust?”

“So it’s Elena. Elena is the issue?” Kate asks.

“Yeah. And… I need to know that he’s sorry for what he did. Not just that I broke with him, but that he’s sorry he did it and that he knows why it was wrong. Because right now, I’m not sure that he does.”

“Well, he’s in therapy and he has all of us now. He has all the tools to figure it out. We have a long summer ahead of us, maybe you’ll be surprised.”

“I hope so.”

We arrive at our hotel in Bismarck just before midnight that night and then are up again at six AM to continue on to our final stop before Seattle, Coeur D’Alene, Idaho. It’s another grueling 13 ½ hours in the car after not nearly enough sleep when we reach the lakeside city that is finally starting look like home.

“I vote you have your car shipped back to Cambridge,” I tell Kate as we climb into the car Saturday morning for the final 4 ½ hour leg of our trip. “I seriously never want to make this drive again.”

“You’re telling me,” She says, as she sighs and pulls out of the hotel and onto the highway that will take us the rest of the way home.

It’s a beautifully clear day when we finally make it to Seattle, and once we get off the I-90 for 4th Avenue, I realize how glad I am that Kate is the one driving. Not only because I’ve always hated driving in Seattle, which is a confusing mess of one way streets, steep hills, careless pedestrians, and bumper to bumper traffic, but because it gives me a chance to look around at everything I’ve missed for the past two and a half years, including the patchwork of sparkling blue water of Elliot Bay peeking through the lush green trees hanging over the streets of downtown.

I’m so enamored with everything around me, I don’t even realize we’ve stopped until Kate says something.

“We’re here!” She exclaims, and I look away from the shops signs along the tall building across the street and glance over at the apartments to my right. My mouth immediately drops open. We’re idling outside a 30 story tall building made of steel and icy blue glass. The building is round, like several cylinders that have been stacked next to one another, and the front of the building is made of cream colored sandstone with the words Escala written in bold, gold letters next to the doors.

“Are you sure this is the place?” I ask doubtfully. This place looks too nice to be considered simply paid housing for a summer internship.

“Of course I’m sure,” Kate says. “And I can’t park here so you go on in. I’ll pull around to the garage and meet you in the lobby.”

“Okay…” I tell her, and I get out of the car, taking only my purse with me as I make my way up to the wide glass doors. The lobby of the building has stark white walls, sandstone pillars, and a long, curved staircase with a wrought iron hand rail leading up to the second floor. I walk past the contemporary looking furniture and tables with extravagant arrangements of flowers on them, conscious with each step of my shoes clacking too loudly against the white marble floors, towards the shiny black desk with a marble top. There is a woman there dressed in an impeccably cut black suit and pearl colored blouse, concentrating hard on the monitor of her computer.

“Uh… excuse me?” I ask tentatively, and she looks up at me and gives me a broad smile. Her teeth look blindingly white behind her scarlet colored lips.

“Good morning, and welcome to Escala. How can I help you?”

“Yeah, hi. My name is Anastasia Steele. I’m supposed to be moving in today,” I tell her.

“Oh, well, welcome to the building, Miss Steele. Do you have the paperwork from your realtor with you?” She asks as she turns to look through a box of files on the edge of her desk.

“Uh… I didn’t work with a realtor, it’s not really my apartment… I think it’s probably under the name Christian Grey.”

In an instant, her pleasant, professional demeanor diminishes and she frowns at me. “Look, I can neither confirm nor deny that Mr. Grey resides in this building and if he did, you should know that Escala is committed to protecting the privacy of our residents and does not allow any form of press on the property, so I’m going to need you to leave.”

“Oh, I don’t work for the media,” I say quickly. “I um… I work for him, the apartment is part of my internship.”

She raises an eyebrow at me, clearly still skeptical, so I dig in my bag to find the letter I received from GEH three weeks ago.

“Here’s my offer letter,” I tell her as I lay the paper with the GEH letterhead out on the counter. She picks it up and skims the section that gives me the address of the housing provided through the company and then reaches over to pick up the phone on her desk, holding a finger up as a way of telling me to wait a moment while she confirms the authenticity of the letter.

“Hey, what’s up?” Kate asks as she scurries up to the desk from behind the twisted staircase, but I don’t have to answer as whoever it is the woman working behind the desk is calling picks up the phone and she recounts the situation for me.

“Yes, Mr. Thomas, there is an Anastasia Steele out here. She says she’s supposed to be moving into an apartment purchased through Mr. Grey today,” She begins, and the moment the other person begins speaking, her face morphs into a look of panic. “Yes, sir, I know… all matters with Mr. Grey are supposed to go through you, I just wasn’t sure… No, she’s right here. Yes, absolutely. I’ll take care of it, sir.”

She hangs up the phone and looks back up with me, her wide, toothy smile firmly back in place.

“I apologize for the confusion, Miss Steele. If you wouldn’t mind having a seat by the window over there, our property manager, Mr. Thomas, will be right out to help you.”

“Thank you,” I tell her, and Kate and I both cross the immaculate stone floor to a small, modern looking sofa on the other side of the room and take a seat. We don’t have to wait long, as only a minute or so later a man with short, wispy, gray hair and a stern face comes through the door behind the desk and marches over to us with his hand outstretched.

“Miss Steele,” He says pleasantly as I shake his hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Mr. Grey speaks very highly of you.”

“Oh… uh… that’s great,” I say awkwardly.

“This packet will give you some details about the many wonderful amenities we have to offer our residents, including the full service gym, spa, and private movie theater,” He says, as he hands me a handful of papers and brochures. “You’ll also find information in there about parking and our guest policies.”

“Okay,” I reply, tucking the packets into my bag to look over later.

“We normally don’t allow subletting in this building but because Mr. Grey is such an important resident here at Escala, we were more than happy to make an exception. However, because Mr. Grey’s name is on the apartment, any service or maintenance requests will have to come from him… I trust that won’t be a problem.”

“Uh, I guess not,” I tell him. Thankfully, I happen to know a very talented engineer/handyman who has been fixing things around the house for me for years, and who conveniently doesn’t live too far away.

“Wonderful. You’ll be on the fourteenth floor, apartment number 1419, and here is your key. Would you like someone to show you the way?”

“Uh no, I think we can manage,” I tell him, smiling at him as I rise to my feet and take the single golden key out of his hand.

“Very good, Miss Steele,” He says, reaching out to shake my hand again. “I do hope that you have a pleasant stay with us here at Escala this summer and if you have any questions or need any help navigating the city, we have a 24 Hour concierge service for your convenience. It’s located just over there,” He says, pointing to another marble desk on the other side of the room.

“Thank-you, Mr. Thomas,” I say, and he steps aside to allow Kate and I to pass. Kate leads the way through the lobby and out to the parking garage but I don’t see her car in any of the spaces close by.

“Where did you park?” I ask.

“Oh… I wasn’t sure which space was yours so I just parked in one of Christian’s,” She says. “But we’ll go get my car and move it into your space before we start unloading your things. I’m pretty sure Christian’s spaces are the farthest away from the elevators as is possible.”

“So then… he really does live here, too? In this building?” I confirm.

“Yeah, he didn’t tell you that?”

“No, he didn’t,” I say irritably as we step into the elevator. “So what, is he going to be in the apartment right next door to me or something?”

“No, he doesn’t live on the 14th floor, Ana. He lives in the penthouse,” Kate says with a laugh and I watch as she reaches forward and presses the button with an engraved “P” on it. As we travel down the one level to the parking garage, I examine the other buttons noting the one at the top that is engraved with a “PH”, and it gives me a small sense of relief. I can count 15 floors between his apartment and mine. I’ll be spending all day with him at work, I don’t think it’s a good idea living in close proximity to one another too.

When the doors open, I follow Kate around the backside of the elevator and up a walkway towards the back of the garage. There is a second gate blocking the roadway with a security guard stationed next to it and Kate has to put a code into a keypad by a locked door for us to continue up the walkway to the back part of the garage. When we finally make it through, I can see why. We turn the corner and we’re facing a few empty spaces and then a line of really expensive looking cars parked along the back wall.

There is a black SUV with the symbol I recognize as Mercedes from driving Kate’s car around and words GL350 on the back, a shiny town car, also black, with a symbol I don’t recognize and only the word Maybach as a distinguisher, and a sleek looking, smoky gray sports car with no name at all, just a fancy letter B. Parked next to the remarkable line of cars is Kate’s convertible.

“Impressive,” I say quietly as I walk up between Kate’s Mercedes and the sport’s car, which looks more like something you would see in a Batman movie than just driving down the road. It’s not surprising really, I suppose. I remember the Bentley he rented in Vegas and his excitement over sailing and helicopter lessons. He’s always had a fascination with power, and not only in the metaphorical sense.

“I see he hasn’t lost his love of new toys,” I say.

“I guess not,” Kate says. “And if, you know, once you start working for him, he asks you to have the Bugatti washed or something and you wanted to say, stop by and pick me up on the way to the car wash so I could drive it around a little, I’d be willing to keep that a secret.”

I roll my eyes at her, but before sliding into the passenger’s seat, I give one last lingering glance through the window of Christian’s car. There is a Mariners cap sitting on smooth leather of the passenger’s seat and I wonder if it’s because he’s recently gone to a game, perhaps with Elliot.

“How much does a car like that cost anyway?” I ask as we pull out of the parking place.

“About $2.5 million,” Kate says casually, as if what she’s just said isn’t one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever heard.

“And he just leaves it in a parking garage?” I ask, my voice raising an octave with my shock.

“There’s a 24 hour security guard twenty feet away, Anastasia. Not to mention…” She gestures with her head to the ceiling and I see the subtle red blink of light on a security camera pointed directly at the cars in front of us. “That’s a live feed that goes directly up to Taylor’s office and I’d really hate to see what would happen to the guy who got on the wrong side of Taylor. That guy can be a little terrifying.”

“And Taylor is his head of security right?” I ask, vaguely remembering his name from when Christian came to visit the weekend I went out of town with Luke. I grit my teeth together as I think of Luke’s name. It’s been five weeks and I still haven’t heard a single word from my supposed best friend, not that that should matter now. Clearly, he’s moved on.

“Yeah, you’ll probably meet him when you go into GEH on Monday. Christian never goes anywhere without him. Apparently it’s dangerous for mega rich people to just walk around without a full security detail.”

“Why? Because he might get kidnapped and held for ransom?”

“No, because the paparazzi might get a picture of him. You saw what happened to Britney Spears in 2007. Christian’s really just a few pictures away from shaving his head and attacking someone with an umbrella.”

I laugh as we pull into my assigned space, which thankfully is much closer to the elevator than Christian’s. I have one giant suitcase, three duffle bags, and my purple carry on full of things to bring upstairs, so once Kate and I manage to unearth all of the luggage from the depths of the trunk and backseat, we load ourselves up and haul everything towards the elevator, surprisingly managing it all in one trip.

When we get to the fourteenth floor, we have to carry the luggage down a long hallway and take a left turn before we finally get to apartment number 1419. I fish the key out of my pocket and slide it into the lock and when I push open the door, a small, audible gasp escapes my lips.

Just after the short entry way, which has beautiful, pale wood floors and a huge, ornate mirror hanging on the wall, we walk into a surprisingly large, open concept kitchen. The cabinets are a rich caramel color, the counters are made of marble, and all the appliances are spotless stainless steel. There is a wood and steel dining room table with chairs for four just outside the kitchen, which flows seamlessly into the living room. I walk forward, leaving my bags behind as I take in the slate gray, modular sectional sofa, glass coffee table, and huge TV, and that’s all before I get a glimpse of the view through the living room window. We’re surrounded by the tall buildings of downtown Seattle and through the narrow openings between the skyscrapers, I can see the iconic structure of the Space Needle, just a few blocks away.

“Wow, this is awesome, Ana,” Kate says as she too approaches the window to stare out at the cityscape laid all around us.

“I told him not to go overboard,” I say, as I turn around and glance uneasily at the opulence of the room. The whole place looks like something out of one of those interior decorating magazines.

“Maybe this isn’t overboard for him. I mean, there are servants quarters in his apartment, he could have moved you in with him and his apartment is crazy awesome. Although, looking around here does make it weird because it seems as though he does know that you are supposed to put furniture in an apartment.”

“Yeah,” I say with a laugh. “Maybe it’s all a part of this new Christian everyone keeps telling me about.”

“Maybe,” She agrees. “Well, let’s go look at the bedroom so I can get out of here. As much as I love you, Steele, I have a boyfriend waiting for me who I haven’t seen in a month.”

There is only one bedroom in the apartment and the only bathroom is attached to it. Inside the room, we find a comfortable, well made, queen size bed. There is a wide, glass door that leads to a balcony, which has a lounge chair and small table, perfect for a Saturday afternoon of reading.

The bathroom is larger than I expected and is done entirely of limestone. There is a deep, rectangular bathtub next to a walk in glass shower and a double vanity with square, white porcelain sinks.

“And to think, I have to live with my parents this summer,” Kate says as she stares longingly into the cavernous walk in closet just off the bathroom. “Can I move in with you?”

“No, but your clothes can,” I tell her. “I might have to go shopping after I unpack. I don’t know if I have much that is appropriate for a place like Grey Enterprises Holdings.”

“I’ll go through my closet and bring over what I can before we go to the Grey’s tomorrow night,” She promises. “You can probably fit into a bunch of the stuff I still have from a few years ago.”

“Thanks, Kate,” I say gratefully.

“Do you need help unpacking?” She asks.

“No, I’ve got it. Go see your boyfriend,” I tell her and she smiles.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow night,” She says, and she leans in, kisses me on the cheek, and turns around to walk back out through the living room. I follow her to lock the door behind her and then turn around and face the bags I have to unpack. With a sigh, I march forward to tackle the largest suitcase first, but as I do, a vase full of flowers on the dining room table that I hadn’t noticed before catches my eye. They’re pink peonies, my favorite flowers, and after taking a moment to appreciate them, I lean over to inhale the sweet scent, sighing appreciatively. There isn’t a card but I doubt Escala or whatever decorating company Christian hired to furnish this apartment knows my favorite kind of flowers. I smile down at them and then turn around to drag my suitcase back into the bedroom.

It doesn’t take me too long to unpack. There is more than enough space in the dresser and enough hangers in the closet for all the clothes I brought, and, besides the quilt my mom made for me for Christmas two years ago, I haven’t brought much else. I decide once I’m finished that I’ll head out to the grocery store, but when I make it out to the kitchen, I find the refrigerator and the cabinets are already stocked with food. There is already laundry detergent in the laundry room, cleaning supplies beneath the kitchen and bathroom sinks, even the shower is stocked with my preferred brand of shampoo and body wash. There really isn’t anything for me to do.

I should be relieved, excited for the opportunity to relax before having to start a full time job on Monday, but after spending so much time cooped up in the car, I’m feeling a little keyed up. There is a bookshelf in the living room filled with books that I know I could get lost in for hours but I don’t think reading is enough to occupy me right now.

Ultimately, I decide to head down to the gym in the basement and try and run off some of this excess energy. It’s nice because the equipment is state of the art and it’s completely deserted down here. Having no one hovering around waiting for my treadmill like they do back at Harvard actually motivates me to stay a little longer and run a little harder.

When I’m finished, I head back upstairs to take a shower and then wrap myself in one of the over large, incredibly soft bath towels I find in the cabinet in the bathroom before heading out to the kitchen and finding something to make for a late dinner. I decide to keep it simple and settle on a salad which I take with me into the living room while I look through the movies in the cabinet under the TV. I feel a kind of sentimental twinge when I see every one of my favorite movies stacked neatly next to one another. I even let out a small, breathy laugh when at the end of the line, I see the movie Hook, which Christian had played when we went to Vermont together.

Maybe… Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea if I went up to his apartment, just to let him know I’m here and to thank him for the flowers, and the apartment, and the job, and… well, everything really. Closing the cabinet door, I stand up, run into the bedroom to get dressed, and then take a deep bracing breath before grabbing the key to the apartment and strolling out into the hallway. I make my way back to the elevator and once inside, hesitate for just a second before pushing the “PH” button. A disembodied robotic voice with a weird accent that sounds vaguely British immediately comes through the speaker in the wall.

“Please enter your passcode,” The voice commands, and I frown. Of course there’s a code. Did I really expect to just be able to get in an elevator and push a button to get into Christian Grey’s apartment? I briefly consider texting Elliot… I’m sure he has the code, but now that I’ve had time to think about what I’m doing, I’m starting to have second thoughts. Boundaries are important to maintain between Christian and I right now because I know how easy it will be to fall back into our old patterns again. Dropping into his apartment uninvited, especially this late at night, is crossing the line of a professional relationship, even just a cordial relationship, and until I know for sure that Elena is completely out of his life, that’s all there can be between us.

I reach out and press the “open door” button and walk slowly back to my apartment. I feel kind of tired now and I don’t know if it’s because I’m still on eastern time and it’s technically midnight for me, or if it’s just allowing myself to get caught up in the Christian mess again. I haven’t even seen him yet and I’m already feeling discombobulated. If I’m going to make it through the summer, I’m going to need to stop complicating this in my head. I’m here to work. I’m not here to try and be his friend or to try and…

I stop that thought immediately.

I’m here to work.

With a drawn out sigh of frustration, I turn off all the lights in the living room, then head off to my new bedroom and crawl into the crisp, new sheets.

You’re only here to work. I tell myself again as I stare out at the twinkling city lights through my bedroom window, and then I close my eyes, and try not to think about him only 15 floors above me as I fall deeply into sleep.

I spend most of the next day exploring Seattle, getting to know the shops and restaurants close by. Elliot assures me that I HAVE to try Top Pot Doughnuts and he was correct, the maple bar is probably the best I’ve ever had. I walk through the Pike Market district, Pioneer Square, and even make a quick stop over at Qwest Field to take a few pictures to add to my next letter to Ray.

When I get back to Escala, I take a quick shower and change clothes to wear to the Greys’, and then wait for Kate to call and say she’s downstairs. She arrives with a box of clothes for me in the back seat of her car which we take upstairs for me to sort through when I get back and then we head off towards Bellevue where Christian’s parents live.

I actually feel a little nervous as we pull up to the huge house, which is only somewhat familiar to me. I haven’t been here since the Thanksgiving when Christian brought me home for the first time and staring up at the cream and stone walls and the warm windows twinkling through the dusk elicits an empty kind of feeling inside of me. It just feels weird being here without Christian.

I follow Kate up the walkway towards the oversized solid oak doors, which she opens without knocking or ringing the bell.

“Hello?” She calls as we remove our shoes by the door and hang our jackets in the closet off to the left of the entrance hall.

“In here!” I hear Elliot call back, and we make our way past the winding staircase to the family room where the entire Grey family, minus one key member, is scattered across the various furniture around the room watching the evening news.

“Anastasia!” Grace calls, jumping up from her place on the sectional and quickly crossing the room with her arms held open for me.

“Hi, Grace,” I say, smiling broadly as I hug her tightly. I can hear the others moving around and when I let go of Grace, she’s immediately replaced in my arms by someone with long black hair who I don’t believe could possibly be Mia Grey.

“Hey, Ana!” Mia says as she hugs me tightly and then pulls away to look at me.

“You’re so tall!” I say incredulously, and it’s true. I think she’s the same height as I am, and she’s gorgeous. Her almond shaped, chocolate colored eyes are no longer too big in her face and now that she’s lost the last of her baby fat and filled out a little more, she looks like the kind of girl who would play the prom queen in a cheesy teen movie. “You’re like… a grown up,” I tell her.

“Yeah, well… I couldn’t stay fourteen forever,” She says as I continue to gawk at her. She’s really a completely different person and I wonder if what I’m experiencing now, is what Christian experienced when he got to see her for the first time a few weeks ago. It must have really been a shock for him.

I try to cover my awkward stare with a wink and then turn to look at Carrick, who is smiling fondly at me as he pulls me in for a hug. Does this mean he’s decided to help after all?

“Welcome home, Ana,” He says affectionately.

“Thank-you, Carrick,” I reply. “It’s really good to see you again.”

“Oh, Ana!” Elliot cries dramatically, letting of Kate and forcing himself between me and Carrick, then sweeping me up into a rib crushing hug. “How have I survived so long without you?”

“Hi, Elliot,” I laugh when he releases me, and then he slugs me playfully on the arm before turning a more serious look on his mother.

“Can we eat now?” He asks.

“Not quite yet,” She replies. “We’re still waiting on one more.”

“What?” Carrick asks, a note of his alarm in his voice as we all hear the sound of the doorbell. I turn around, feeling a similar sense of apprehension as Grace crosses the polished stone floor to answer the door. When she opens it though, I feel the smallest amount of relief when I see the man standing on the doorstep isn’t Christian, but rather someone I’ve never seen before.

“Thank-you so much for agreeing to meet with us tonight,” Grace says gratefully as she takes his coat and hands it off to a girl who appears through the formal living room off the right to the hall.

“Absolutely, I’m happy to help,” The man says, and he follows Grace back through the entrance hall to where we’re waiting in the living room.

“Everyone,” Grace begins. “This is Dr. John Flynn. We’ve shared several patients over the years and he’s recently started seeing Christian.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Flynn,” Elliot says, stretching his hand out for the doctor’s. I too shake Dr. Flynn’s hand but when he reaches out for Carrick, Carrick doesn’t return the gesture. Instead, he shoots an angry glare at Grace.

“I thought you said this was just going to be a family dinner?” Carrick demands, and I watch as Grace inhales sharply through her nose, trying to keep control of her temper while she responds.

“Most of your family is here and there is dinner. Dr. Flynn is here to help us so that we have the proper tools to help your son.”

Carrick’s jaw tenses but he doesn’t respond. Grace turns back to Dr. Flynn with a smile and then leads him through the kitchen to the dining room. When we’re all seated around the dining table, Grace begins a casual conversation with Dr. Flynn while the woman I saw in the entrance hall, who I presume is the Greys’ housekeeper, places a large dish of lasagna, a bowl of Caesar salad, and two baskets of garlic bread in the center of the table. Elliot passes me a bottle of wine and I fill my glass and take a sip as everyone begins to fill their plates.

The tension from Grace and Carrick’s little spat in the living room seems to die away as we eat and I spend the entire meal getting caught up with Mia, who it seems has turned into quite the social butterfly. I ask her about her friends, what she does for fun on weekends, and what her favorite subjects in school are, but somehow every question seems to come back to dancing. Now that summer vacation is just around the corner, she isn’t going to have her high school dance team anymore so she’s planning on auditioning for an actual ballet company in Seattle next week.

“That’s great, Mia.” I tell her. “You’ll have to tell me when your first recital is so I can get tickets and come watch you.”

“I will, I’m so excited, Ana. I think being in an actual ballet company will really help when I apply to Juilliard.”

“Juilliard, wow! I didn’t realize you were so serious about dancing.”

“She isn’t’,” Carrick interrupts. “Her mother and I are thrilled that she has ballet as a hobby but she hasn’t been keeping a 4.0 GPA in an advanced curriculum program in the most prestigious private school in Seattle to spend four years at a dance school. She’ll be at Harvard, pre-law, just like your old man.”

He reaches over rub her shoulder with a proud kind of affection, but she rolls her eyes.

“I don’t want to go to Harvard, Dad,” She says in a low, controlled voice that sounds as if she’s saying something she’s repeated a hundred times. “Not everyone wants to be a lawyer.”

“Nonsense,” He says. “Ana will you please tell this girl how much you love Harvard?”

“I do love it. It’s great,” I say. “But… I also want to be there.”

“See, Dad? Why don’t you just stop being so obsessed with the idea of having a legacy at Harvard and let your kids live their lives?” Mia snaps.

“Ballet is a hobby, Mia, not a career. You’re going to get a real college education.”

“Christian did just fine without Harvard,” Mia argues, and Carrick turns to glare at his daughter.

“You need to watch the way you’re speaking to me, young lady. Now, I’m not going to listen to another word about this. I’m not paying for you to go to Juilliard so just drop it.”

“Well if you won’t, maybe Elena Lincoln will,” Mia says angrily, and her voice is loud enough that it echos through the dining room and everyone falls silent.

“Go to your room,” Carrick says in a low, threatening voice, and Mia picks up the napkin from her lap, throws it down on the table, and storms out of the room, leaving us all sitting awkwardly in deafening silence. No one moves, and it feels as though no one even breathes. We all just sit there, staring at Carrick, who is sitting at the head of the table with his eyes closed and his fists clenched as he tries to reign in his anger.

“Do you see now why I don’t want him around Mia?” Carrick asks, looking up at Grace, who is seated across the table from him. “This is the influence he has on her.”

“Christian isn’t even here,” Grace argues. “He’s seen her three times in the last two years, and all three of those times have been in the last month. How can you possibly say he’s been a bad influence on her?”

“Exactly! Three times and now look at her attitude,” Carrick replies.

“That’s not Christian, Dad. Mia hasn’t changed. She just doesn’t want to go to Harvard,” Elliot says.

“I don’t care what she wants. She’s sixteen, she doesn’t understand what it takes to be successful in the real world,” Carrick says.

“You said the same thing about Christian,” Grace argues. “And if you had just listened to him when he told you he didn’t want to go to school, maybe none of this would have happened!”

“So it’s my fault?” Carrick demands.

“Okay, okay,” Dr. Flynn interjects. “Let’s just take a time out here. Everybody relax, we’re all on the same team. There’s no benefit in assigning blame to one another. We all know who is to blame here.”

“Christian,” Carrick says.

“Elena Lincoln,” Dr. Flynn corrects him.

“Great, here we go,” Carrick says, rolling his eyes.

“Mr. Grey, your son was a victim of sexual abuse and assault predicated on a history of neglect and physical abuse-“

“I understand that,” Carrick interrupts him. “No one here is denying that he was her victim, but when we tried to help him, he used it as an opportunity to betray every single person in this room so that he could get what he wanted. That’s on him. He made that choice, not Elena.”

“I disagree with you,” Dr. Flynn says. “I very much believe that Elena Lincoln made that choice for him.”

“He’s not stupid, he knew what he was doing. He wanted money. It’s all he talked about for years, and he took the first opportunity he could to get it without any regard for the feelings of the people who love him.”

“Yes, you’re right. He wanted money to start his company and the way he went about getting what he wanted hurt a lot of people, but Mr. Grey, as hurtful as his actions may have been, I do not believe they were malicious. I think that Christian was so caught up in this pattern of abuse with Mrs. Lincoln, who you’ll notice knew exactly the thing to offer him to get him to do what she wanted, that he wasn’t capable of fully comprehending the gravity of his choice and the effects it would have on everyone around him,” Dr. Flynn says.

“I’m not sure about that,” I say quietly, and for the first time since this conversation started, Dr. Flynn looks away from Carrick towards me.

“I’m sorry, dear. We haven’t been introduced,” He says.

“Oh, uh… my name is Ana, Anastasia Steele. I was dating Christian when all of this happened.”

“Oh, you’re Anastasia,” Dr. Flynn says as an excited kind of smile crosses his face. “I’m very happy you’re here. It’ll make this transition a lot easier… But I’m getting ahead of myself, you were saying you weren’t sure? What exactly do you mean?”

“That he didn’t know that what he was going to do would have consequences,” I clarify. “You see the morning of the trial, he was scared. I’d never seen him so nervous before and then just before we went in, he asked me if I would love him no matter happened in the courtroom that day. He knew what he was about to do was wrong and that it had the potential to drive all of us away, but he did it anyway.”

“Ah, yes, fair point,” Dr. Flynn says. “But let me clarify. When I say that Christian wasn’t capable of fully comprehending the gravity of his choice, I don’t mean to say that he was completely oblivious. Like Mr. Grey pointed out earlier, Christian is a very intelligent young man. He knew that lying under oath was perjury and was a crime, he knew that his family would be upset at what he’d done, and that was probably very overwhelming and unsettling for him. So this is where it becomes very important to understand the extent to which the abuse he has been subjected to has taken hold of his mind and his decision making capabilities.”

Carrick snorts.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Grey, did you have something to add?” Dr. Flynn asks, patiently.

“I don’t buy it,” Carrick says. “We taught him right from wrong. He knew what he was doing.”

“Mr. Grey, I understand how frustrating this must feel for you but please don’t think I mean to impugn your parenting. I mean to illustrate the consequence of the abuse he suffered at the hands of Mrs. Lincoln. You see, abusive relationships have an addictive quality to them, much in the same way gambling or sex can become addictive. The abuse makes the relationship unpredictable, the reward phase and the violence phase are compelling, exhilarating, and even mind altering. It causes a chemical reaction and the release of endorphins and the rush of adrenaline fuel the addiction. That addiction affects their perception of the relationship, it affects their ability to make rational decisions, and leads to compulsive behavior. For instance, you might see an increase in drug and alcohol use, lying, stealing, compulsive working, self-harm, sex addiction, eating disorders… all possible consequences of this manipulated state of mind, and these behaviors become more prevalent in situations of great stress or hardship. Now at the time this event happened, Christian was living in a new environment on his own for the first time in his life, he was attending an Ivy League school, he was in his first real, serious relationship, he was having to face this trial and what Mrs. Lincoln had done to him…”

“He was failing,” I say quietly, inadvertently interrupting as the words come unwittingly out of my mouth.

“Failing?” Dr. Flynn asks.

“He was trying to start his company,” I say. “He was trying to make a deal to get funding to start up and every time he thought he had something, something would go wrong, and it would fall through.”

Dr. Flynn stares back at me for a moment, pondering what I’ve said. “So there’s the self-worth,” He muses aloud. “Excellent, that gives me a new insight. Thank-you, Anastasia. Now, essentially, what I’m here to do is to make sure we have a consistent message and the proper tools to help Christian escape this cycle of abuse with Mrs. Lincoln so that you all can experience a healthy relationship with him once more. Now, I want to preface this by telling you all that this is not going to be easy. I can’t discuss the details of what Christian has said to me in our sessions but I can say that from what he’s told me and from what I’ve discussed with Grace, this seems to be a textbook case of what’s known as Victim Grooming, which is seen in a vast variety of abusive relationships, but is most prevalent in cases involving children. Now we all know the sexual abuse Christian endured began at the age of fifteen but the psychological aspect of the abuse actually goes back much farther than that, I think.”

“What do you mean?” Grace asks. “Has he said…”

“I’m sorry, Grace, I can’t discuss what Christian has said to me, but what I can do is walk you through the victim grooming process which will perhaps help you better understand how deep the psychological abuse really is. Now, when an abuser identifies their victim the first thing they’re going to do is observe the victim for vulnerabilities and then attempt to earn their trust by offering them special attention and being understanding and sympathetic about their feelings.”

“Elena always had a special interest in Christian,” Grace says. “Ever since we adopted him, she was always holding him and talking to him. She was very affectionate towards him and he bonded with her quickly, more quickly than anyone else. When he was older and he was struggling with his past issues and his adolescent angst, she was the only one he would talk to. We encouraged it…” Grace’s voice cuts off as tears begin bubbling up and Kate reaches over to hug her.

“Grace, none of the blame is on you,” Dr. Flynn, assures her. “This is all on Elena.”

Grace nods and Dr. Flynn continues.

“Once the abuser has gained the victim’s trust and has made the victim feel as though they are the only one who really understands them, the abuser will begin to isolate them from their family, get them alone, and used to being alone, so that when the abuse starts, there aren’t any witnesses.”

“Like having him come to her house to work.” Elliot adds.

“Exactly. Once the abuse starts, the abuser will further isolate the victim by creating an expectation of secrecy about their relationship, possibly using the victim’s own insecurities as a way of keeping them silent about what’s happening to them.”

“Or a contract,” I say pointedly.

“Or a contract,” Dr. Flynn concedes, “Now if the abuser is successful up to this point, they are in control of the relationship, and that’s when the cycle begins. Once the victim gets in the cycle, it’s very difficult to get them out. Like I said, the highs and the lows of the relationship become addictive and that addiction actually strengthens the bond between the abuser and the victim. It’s what we psychiatrists call Traumatic Bonding.”

Elliot raises his hands in the air and gives everyone around the table a smug smile as if to say I told you so.

“So what do we do?” Kate asks.

“First and foremost, we need to get Elena Lincoln completely out of his life. Zero contact. And in order to do that, you’re all going to have to make it clear that you all support him, love him, and want to be there to help him.”

“We’ve been trying to get him away from her,” Elliot says. “I’m with him as much as possible so that she can’t get near him, and Ana gave him the ultimatum that if he didn’t cut off all contact with her, she would be gone.”

Dr. Flynn frowns. “And while I understand the merit behind that idea and why you would feel that compulsion, Ana, that is actually the least helpful thing that you could say to him.”

“What? Why?” I ask.

“It reinforces what she is telling him. You have to remember that isolation is one of her most powerful weapons to keep him dependent on her. When you say that if he doesn’t leave her, you won’t have anything to do with him, she’s able to spin that into you don’t care about him and that you’re already on your way out. Remember, Christian faced the loss of a parent very early in his life, abandonment is one of his triggers, and an easy way for Elena to get to him. When you say that you will be out of his life if he doesn’t live up to an expectation, you are placing the blame of the abuse and the responsibility to end the abuse solely on him, and it creates fear and triggers his defense mechanism.”

“So… you’re saying we should encourage him to have a relationship with her?” Carrick asks skeptically.

“No, I’m saying that language that places ultimatums on him or that is attacking her will create a defensive reaction. Let me put it to you this way. When the police receive a tip that there is suspected domestic violence occurring in a home, how is it they know which spouse or parent is responsible for the abuse without the informant telling them?” Dr. Flynn asks. He looks around the table, waiting for one of us to answer, but when we don’t, he continues. “The victim will always try to protect their abuser. You’ll find wives putting themselves in between the police and their husbands, trying to shield them. You see children clinging to their abusive parent, trying to hold onto them so they can’t be taken away. You saw it in the trial. She was facing a prison sentence, he protected her, and she rewarded him for it. That is the cycle. It is essential that we avoid triggering that defensive mechanism because it will drive him back to her.”

“So, what? She just never faces any consequences for what she’s done? She’s just off the hook, just like that?” I ask. “I’m not interested in being in any kind of personal relationship with him if he’s still involved with her. She’s disgusting and a child molester and the fact that he would allow someone like that to be in his life, is inexcusable to me.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all, but before we get to the point where we can focus on her consequences, we need to completely sever the bond between Christian and Elena. If we move too quickly, the break will be traumatizing for him. He has to be ready for it or you’ll see the same outcome you saw with the trial. He’ll go back to her.”

“So what do we do to break the bond?” Elliot asks.

“All you can do is let him know that you are here to support him, reward any behavior that shows he’s moving out of the cycle, share your feelings with him, encourage him to try new things outside of his dependence on Elena, and make sure he knows that you’ll always be there for him, no matter what. Even if he goes back to her,” Dr. Flynn says. “The rest we’ll work out in therapy.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “I just… I can’t be supportive if he goes back to her. I can’t do it.”

“If we’re consistent and we really show him that we’re there for him, he won’t go back to her,” Dr. Flynn says. “But you have to remember that she is not going to give up her position of power without a fight and she knows how to play on his vulnerabilities. I know it can be hard to accept, but it is important to acknowledge that this will be difficult for Christian. But I assure you, in time, we will be able to get him away from her.”

“Thank you, Dr. Flynn,” Grace says. “You’ve given us a lot to consider and I think this will all be really helpful.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Dr. Flynn says. “Of course if any of you are struggling with what’s going on with Christian, I encourage you to come and see me and we can talk through what your feeling and see if we can’t work through it together. And… I’d really like it if you would make an appointment to come and speak with me in private, Anastasia.”

“Me?”

“Yes, I think your role in Christian’s recovery is very important and I’d like to talk to you about it more.”

“Okay…”

“Here’s my card,” He says, reaching into his wallet and then handing me his business card. “Call my office and make an appointment for whenever you’re available.”

“I will,” I promise, and he smiles at me and shakes my hand before Grace leads him out of the dining room.

The housekeeper returns and begins clearing the table so we all get up and file out towards the living room. I watch Grace thank Dr. Flynn once more as he disappears through the front door and then turn to sit on the couch, but as everyone settles down around the living room, I notice Carrick slip out the back door alone.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell Kate, who looks at me curiously as I walk around the sectional and follow Carrick through the backdoor. I find him leaning over the railing of the back deck, looking out over the yard and pool with a cigarette in his hand.

“You smoke now?” I ask, as I come to stand next to him.

“No, it just feels like something to do… I don’t know…” He says, and he flicks the cigarette away and into the pool below.

“You know there was a time when I was so angry at him that I thought I hated him,” I say quietly. “But then I realized, anger was just the surface emotion. I love him, but he hurt me and it’s easier to be angry than to deal with the pain. So, I know how you feel.”

“I’m not mad, Anastasia. Well, not at him,” He says.

“You’re not?”

“No. I’m mad at myself. She did this to him for four years, while he was living in my house. I not only didn’t see it, didn’t protect him from it, but I sent him over there. I encouraged it. I have one job as a parent, and I didn’t protect my son. You know, when you have kids, you just want what’s best for them. You want them to be safe, you want them to be healthy and happy and you want them to be successful. Christian fought me so hard on college and I wouldn’t even listen, and now every day I face the reality that if I had just given him the money, if I had believed in him just a little bit, none of this would have happened. Now every time I read an article about how successful he’s been or when I see the amazing things that he’s accomplished because of what she gave him… It’s infuriating. It’s like having your biggest regret shoved in your face over, and over, and over again, and it’s ripping me apart. I know that I’m taking that anger out on Christian, and I shouldn’t, but I just don’t know how to deal with this.”

“You knew, didn’t you?” I ask. “Before he told you last week… you knew why he did it.”

“Yes, I knew almost instantly. I was doing Andrew’s divorce and he called me the minute that transfer was made. It’s my fault he lied. I could have given him the money, and I didn’t.”

“It wouldn’t have been any different. If you had given him the money, he wouldn’t have gotten away from her for those few months that he did and nothing would have changed between them. You would have never found out and there’s a good chance it would still be going on.”

“And he would have never met you. You’re the only reason he got out of it at all. You brought him back from the edge.”

“Yeah, apparently not far enough,” I reply.

“You did what you could, Ana,” He sighs. “It looks the doctor is right and we just weren’t prepared to deal with what she did to him.”

“Well now we have a chance to start over,” I say, and he nods. We sit there in silence, staring out at the lake, which sparkles with moonlight.

“You know, this whole thing has made the situation with Mia and Juilliard impossible for me. All my instincts tell me she needs to go to school. She doesn’t have the same kind of intuition or the focus that Christian has that has enabled him to be successful without a degree, but then I wonder if I’m just making the same mistakes all over again. You know you make plans for your kids, you have an idea of what to do to prepare them for the real world. You get them in the best preparatory schools, you help them with their homework, get them tutors, foster a desire to build a career, and then you send them off to the best college you can. Elliot did it fine, but Christian and now Mia…”

“Elliot loves being an engineer and he needed school for that,” I interrupt. “Christian loves business and he didn’t need school. Mia loves to dance and she’s asking for what she needs to be successful at what she loves to do.”

“Yes, but Engineering and Business are careers. Dancing has a shelf life. She’ll always be just a few years or one injury away from having nothing, and then I’ll have to face the reality of letting yet another one of my kids down. My job is to prepare her for life. I don’t want to fail her the way I failed Christian.”

“I don’t know what the answer is,” I tell him. “Harvard is an amazing school, but it’s not for everyone.”

“I know,” He says, and, as he turns to look back out over the water, the door opens behind us.

“Hey, Ana,” Kate says. “I’ve got work in the morning so I’ve got to head back home. Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” I tell her. Carrick turns to hug me goodbye and, after promising I’ll see him soon, I head back into the house with Kate. Mia’s back downstairs now so I’m able to wish everyone a goodnight before we head out the door and back out to Kate’s Mercedes.

When I’m back in my apartment, and I’ve hung all the clothes that Kate has brought for me in the closet, and picked out the outfit I’m going to wear tomorrow, I crawl into bed and stare out at the Seattle skyline. As I lie there, thinking over everything Dr. Flynn said over dinner tonight, my mind starts to drift and I begin to wonder briefly what’s in store for me on my first day at GEH. What it’s going to feel like when, for the first time in two years, I see Christian again. Am I prepared to do the things Dr. Flynn has asked of all of us, and will the boundaries I’ve tried to keep up since we’ve started talking again hold firm when he’s no longer just a voice on the phone, but actually standing in front of me?

You’re here to work. I remind myself again, and then I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.

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