JOINT THERAPY
CHAPTER XIX
I make my way to
the Audi SUV where Taylor is waiting. He rushes out and opens the back
passenger door. As soon I get in, I dial Roach.
He answers the
phone immediately. The anxiety exuding from his voice tells me that he thought I
am about to liquidate the company.
“Roach here,” he
says meekly.
“Grey.” I reply.
“How can I help
you this morning, Mr. Grey?” anxious to get on my good side.
“I need status
update on Hyde!” I command him.
“His last
paycheck and severance pay are going to be mailed to him. But his employment
has been permanently terminated, and he will not be getting any company
reference, sir.”
“Good. His
assistant, Miss Steele?” I ask.
“Do you want us
to terminate her employment?”
“Of course not!”
I hiss sharply.
“To tell you the
truth sir, in the absence of Hyde, we may need her assistance, anyway. She
knows all of Hyde’s authors as she’s been in contact with them, and she has
written some rather impressive synopses of some prospective authors’
manuscripts Hyde was considering. It’d be to our benefit to keep her.”
“I agree,” I
say.
“Is there
anything else I can help you with, sir?” he asks timidly.
“That’ll be
all,” I say hanging up.
When we reach
GEH, Taylor drives into the underground garage, and parks the SUV. As soon as
he turns the vehicle off, he gets out, and opens my door. We make our way to
the elevators. I hit the call button on the elevator and without looking at
Taylor I say, “Thank you for your help last night, Taylor,” in an impassive
voice.
Taylor, not
being used to receiving a thanks or a compliment blushes to the hairline, and
shifts where he’s standing; clearly uncomfortable. As he clears his throat he
says, “just doin’ my job sir.” I nod for his benefit. Luckily elevator door
dings open, and both of us saved by the bell, and the subject is closed.
As soon as I
enter into my office, Andrea and jumpy Olivia get to their feet immediately,
both chiming in unison “Good morning Mr. Grey!”
Andrea quickly
grabs her iPad to go over the schedule, and is holding a stack of work
documents for me. But I hold my hand up to her to halt her. “I’ll call you when
I need you,” I say impassively. She stops in her tracks, and her foot hanging
in the air to go forward is retracted and taken back. I notice fraction of a smile
playing on Taylor’s lips.
“How about your
coffee, sir?”
“Bring it in,” I
say and walk into my office without waiting her response. I fire up my computer
as I sit in my chair. Taylor takes his usual place in my office. As I open my
e-mail application my Blackberry rings. I fish my Blackberry out of my pocket
and check the caller ID. It’s Anastasia. Remembering the mood I left her with
at SIP, I answer the phone with concern:
“Anastasia, are
you alright?”
“Yes. I’m given
Jack Hyde’s job to be in charge for the time being,” she says in one breath.
Huh... I expected Roach to keep Anastasia at SIP, but, I didn’t expect
Anastasia to get a temporary promotion.
“You must be
joking,” I say completely surprised. But what Anastasia asks me next stuns me
more.
“Did you have
anything to do with my new promotion?” she questions me sharply.
“No, nothing at
all. I don’t want to be mean or anything, but you’ve only been at SIP a week or
so.” I had not expected Roach to hand her Hyde position even temporarily.
“Yes, that’s
what’s confusing. Incidentally, I’m told that Jack Hyde really rated me,” she
says making all my muscles go rigid. Of course he rated her. He was ready to
dive into her panties up until last night to give her the perfect score! Hyde’s
name changes my demeanor to arctic levels; I could freeze the coffee
Andrea’s bringing me in.
“Did he now?” I
mutter in a glacial tone. But, I don’t want fucker’s name clouding our mood
today. This is something to celebrate. I’m first to admit that Anastasia is a
talented girl. I nod at Andrea, and she walks out quickly.
“Well baby, if
they think you can do the job, I’m quite sure you are capable of doing it.
Congratulations! How would you like to go to a celebratory dinner after we’ve
seen Flynn?”
“Hmm...” she
says mulling over what I had just proposed us to do. “Are you absolutely sure
this isn’t your doing?” she asks suspiciously. Her suspicion makes me upset
immediately. I’m always truthful to her. I told her I didn’t have anything to
do with her promotion. Why does she question my sincerity? I count in my head
to ward off my temper. Ten... Nine... Eight... Seven... Six... Five... Four...
Three... Two... One... Fuck! Still fuming!
“Do you doubt me
Anastasia?” I hiss angrily. “It’s maddening that you do!”
She pauses for a
second over the phone, and finally chastised, apologizes. “I’m sorry for
doubting you, Christian,” she breathes softly. Her response softens my heart.
“Anastasia...” I
coax softly. “If you need anything, I’m here for you. You let me know please.
And, Ana?”
“What?” she
asks.
“Use your
Blackberry at all times,” I remind her in a brusque tone.
She sighs, and
answers. “Yes, Christian.”
Finally
Anastasia is agreeing to something without any qualms about it. And actually
she sounds obedient. I ravel in this momentary solitude. I’ll take whatever I
get from my untrusting girlfriend. Just with those two frigging simple words
she melts my heart.
“I mean it
baby... If you need me, I’m here for you.”
“I know
Christian. Thank you. I love you,” she says and all is right in my world. I
grin like an idiot, possibly making Taylor curious of what she said.
“I love you too
baby,” I reply softly.
“I’ll talk to
you later, then.”
“Laters, baby,”
I say and we both hang up.
“Taylor!”
“Yes, sir,” he
replies coming to my desk.
“What was the
name of that florist we used?”
“I’m sorry sir,
I forgot. Maybe Mrs. Jones might remember. I can ask her if you like,” he says.
“No, I’ll call
her,” I say as I dial Mrs. Jones’ cell phone.
The phone dials and
Mrs. Jones answers in the second ring.
“Yes Mr. Grey,”
she answers in her ever present tone. Taylor can hear her voice, and I notice
that his features soften.
“Mrs. Jones, do
you happen to remember the name of the florist we’ve used last time?” She knows
what I’m talking about of course.
“Yes, sir. It
was called ‘The Primary Colors’.”
“Thank you. I
have another question,” I say pausing a little shyly. I clear my throat.
“Yes, Mr. Grey,”
she replies in her soft tone.
“Last time you
told me about the significance of white roses. Is there any other flower that
means appreciation, love, and gratitude?”
“Of course sir.
Generally all roses are a symbol for love and gratitude. But pink roses sir, are
the most prevalent among the old garden roses, and they are the most strongly
associated with these sentiments. They also have the connotation of grace and
elegance, sweetness, as well as poetic romance.”
“Wow! I had no
idea! Have you ever worked for a florist Mrs. Jones?” I ask.
She gives a
small laugh. “No, sir, but, I’m a woman, and I have tended homes for some time
now. Those are things most careful woman would pay attention to. But I must
remind you the significance of the shades of pink, sir. Different shades of
pink carry their own significance. For instance sir, if you were to send the
roses to someone you want to thank for something they’ve done for you, then it
would better to send dark pink because they are the traditional way of sending
a message of thanks as they are symbolic of gratitude and appreciation.”
“Just a second,
let me write this down,” I say and fish for a pen. Taylor extends me his, and I
nod. “Go on Mrs. Jones,” I instruct her to continue.
“Of course, sir.
However, dark pink roses aren’t the best choice to send for more intimate
purposes. If the message you wish to convey is gentleness and admiration, then
pale pink would be the best choice. They also convey elegance and refinement
and communicate thanks and admiration.”
“Pale pink,” I
mutter, and underline it.
“If you wish to
use pale pink sir, I would recommend you to have them mix the bouquet with
white roses; then the meaning you wish to convey cannot be confused with
anything else.”
“Mrs. Jones,
you’re a genius!” I say as I hang up, and I notice that Taylor gets a barely
noticeable smug look on his face.
We find the
phone number for The Primary Colors online then I call the florist next.
“Primary Colors
Florist. This is Janice. How may I help you?”
I put in my
order with the florist. The note I have them attach reads:
Congratulations Miss Steele...You’ve
done it all on your own!
With no help from your
overfriendly, neighborhood megalomaniac CEO
With Love,
Christian
I have it
scheduled to be delivered before 3:30 p.m. I’m shaking my legs with nervousness
to hear her reaction. Taylor raises an eyebrow, but quickly his face smooth
over as if getting rid of the wrinkles on a sheet.
I press the
intercom.
“Yes, Mr. Grey,”
replies Andrea.
“Get Barney in
here, Andrea!” I order. When she hears the urgency in my voice, she doubles her
efforts.
“Right away,
sir.”
Five minutes
later, there’s a knock at my door. Barney walks in with his MacBook Air tucked
under his arm. He clumsily walks into my office, a wire hanging down from one
arm. He’s wearing dark color blue jeans with suspenders. His white shirt’s top
two buttons are open displaying part of his hairless chest; his shirt sleeves
are folded at least three times on one side, and maybe twice on the other side.
He’s also wearing black boots; the kind usually worn by cops, but they’re only
tied at the ankle and he seemed to have tucked his jeans inside it; meanwhile
the flaps of his boots are blooming like a spring flower over the cuffs of his
jeans. I’m surprised that he hasn’t tripped over them.
One side of his
suspenders is hanging down, but he doesn’t seem to notice it. Barney is just
about two years older than I am. His bright blue eyes are obscured with his
dark rimless glasses. His black hair is shaggy and hanging over the collar of his
white shirt. The way he’s looking right now is giving the air of a college student
who went to bed with his clothes on after an all-night study, and woke up late
and ran to school to make it on time without tidying himself up. But this is
Barney’s traditional look. I think he’s going for geek chic. Whatever floats
his boat... I don’t generally care how Barney dresses up. He’s a genius when it
comes to computers.
He comes before
my desk, pushes his glasses back further up on his nose.
“Barney, you
seem to have a wire hanging down from your arm,” I say.
“Yes. I was in
the middle of inspecting the servers. It’s for static discharge, sir.”
“How did the
installation of the new fire suppression system go?”
“Very well, sir.
I’ve inspected everything.”
“Give me the
lowdown on the new system, and e-mail me the reports,” I say to Barney.
“Sir, you know I
was always opposed to having any sort of water sprinkler system near our
servers which was what we had, though not in the server room, they were in
close proximity. Because they can cause catastrophic damages in the computer
environment and we wouldn’t be able to recover anything. But, you sir, and as a
policy GEH is for environmentally friendly suppression systems, and frankly the
old ones weren’t doing it, and they weren’t environmentally friendly. On top of
that sir, they were due for an update, and unfortunately the older systems and
even subsequent technologies are just too expensive to purchase and install,” he
says. I nod but counter him.
“But this one
isn’t cheap either. In fact it’s much more expensive than the older system we
had.”
“True, but I
guarantee you that it’ll be worth its weight in gold, should there be an
emergency sir. We’ll be able to recover most everything.”
“What kind of
gas is it using?”
“This is called Inergen.
It has inert gases in it, sir. About 52% nitrogen, 40% argon and 8% carbon
dioxide.”
“Do you have the
price sheet with you?” I ask and he hands me a folder. I open it and whistle.
“I know I
approved it, but this is still quite costly. What special benefits do you see
in this type?” I ask doubting its monumental benefits.
“The only back
draw is the large space for the storage tanks, but there is no clean up in case
of an emergency. And that’s very crucial sir, because we do have a very
expensive Data Storage System and Servers which run the entire company. Loss
of it would be...” he shakes his head, “devastating to the company, to say the
least. What this particular system does is that it reduces the level of oxygen
during fires, it doesn’t create a fog, and breathable during discharge. Of
course it’s very effective, sir.”
I scrutinize the
paper.
“Barney, this
says that after discharge the pressure must be relieved to avoid damage to the
enclosure. What if someone is in the server room?”
“Our system is
designed in a way that a tech, or myself can enter the server room only for a
limited time. Within that time, the computer system knows to have a certain pressure
and a certain percentage of oxygen in the room. Once we leave, the system
recognizes that there is no one in the room, and pressure and the level of oxygen
is changed. We have pressure resistant enclosures, and they’re designed exactly
for this purpose. On top of that, this particular brand’s Global Warming
Potential is zero, and so is the Ozone Depletion Potential.” He says pushing
his glasses up onto his nose for a third time. “It’s quite safe for the
environment and also the damage if any would be minimal to the system
increasing the effectiveness to the highest level possible, sir,” he said
proudly as if talking about his future son Barney, Jr.
Barney somehow
always amuses Taylor. He couldn’t hide his grin when he saw Barney. He watches
Barney’s animated gestures.
“Alright then.
Next thing on the agenda... Tell me about Hyde’s computer. Have you discovered
anything else on the SIP server?”
Barney clears
his throat, and opens up his MacBook Air placing it on my desk as if he’s asked
permission, but I don’t say anything. He drags a chair loudly, and sits before
his laptop, and for some odd reason Taylor is trying to suppress a grin by
turning his head elsewhere. Barney sits his 5’10” frame into the chair, pushes
his dark rimless glasses once again, and leans into the laptop if it holds the
secrets of the universe.
“What are you
doing?” I ask impassively.
“Logging into
the SIP server, sir,” he says.
“Why?”
“Well it’s
easier to show sir then try to explain,” he says leaning into the small screen
pushing his annoying glasses once again.
“This is the map
of SIP server, network map and its mail server,” he says.
“Is this the way
it actually looks like?” I ask amazed.
“No,” he says
shyly. “I created this to make it more visual, sir.”
Pointing to a
cluster image he says, “You see we have the internet here.” Then he points to a
round image. “This is the router to the SIP, and here we have the Firewall,” he
says indicating an image looking like a brick wall. “Then we move to the Switch
here,” he says pointing to the end of the line moving with arrows. That opens
up to the WAN,” he says. Then dumbs it down for my benefit.
“That’s Wide
Area Network, sir,” he says, and I nod. “Here’s the interesting thing,” he says
excitedly. I’ve never seen a man get as excited about computers as another
would get about sex. He has a gleam in his eyes as he speaks. “SIP ought to have
about four different servers: Proxy, Web, FTP, and Mail. Then it should have
another switch going into the LAN, or as more commonly known, the Local Area
Network. Then we have the Data Base, another Firewall then moving onto Client
PCs which are the computers that are used in the company.”
“I’m still not
seeing what’s interesting here,” I say looking into the map.
Then, Barney
moves his mouse, and clicks another image.
“Sir, that’s how
it ought to look. But
the way it looks is this...” he says pointing to another image slide.
“You see here, under
the Client PCs, there are several computers with each one marked with the
user’s name.” Jack Hyde’s grab my attention.
Then, Barney
points to Hyde’s PC and says, “Mr. Hyde’s client PC bypasses the firewall, and
goes into the FTP and the Mail Server as well as the Data Base. He also has
direct access into the client PC titled as A. Steele.” My head snaps up
immediately to look at Barney.
“What? How?” is
all I can ask.
“Backdoor,” he
says simply.
“What is it? A
virus, a software, a wire, a connection? What?” I ask impatiently.
“Backdoor is
sir, a means of access to a computer program that bypasses security mechanisms.
Generally, a programmer sometimes may install a backdoor so that a particular
program can be accessed for troubleshooting or for other purposes. But this one
isn’t installed for that purpose. Attackers use backdoors to exploit.”
“I don’t get it.
I would have thought that Hyde had access to all of the company’s servers. Why
create this?”
“Well sir, when
you access through legitimate means, you leave a footprint. People like me
would find out who has been where, and what changes they’ve made if any, and
when. Think of this way sir. You go to a well-protected building with top of
the line security. You know, the works; the one that scans bio signs and even
checks your background. Imagine someone who doesn’t have time to go through all
that to get in and out every time. He might just create a back exit-maybe just
to step out for a smoke. Well, this is what we’re seeing here with Hyde’s, and
it’s a good one too, and the only one that bypasses all of that security even
making it available for him to be able to access from a remote PC.” Heat shoots
up to my face, and I feel anger is coming in waves.
“Tell me you
blocked all his entry from outside, or any access into the servers!” I hiss
through my teeth.
“Of course sir,”
he says smugly. “And there is another thing sir. Mr. Hyde should not have had
access to the e-mail server. Otherwise every employee could just peek in and
retrieve or see the contents of everyone else’s e-mail. Since Miss Steele works
under him, he may have had a previously granted access. But nonetheless, there
is a postmaster who is in charge of the e-mail accounts. Mr. Hyde clearly isn’t
it. So, I worked through a good deal of the night to fix this problem,” he
says. So, he did stay up and possibly slept in his clothes. That would explain
his, sort of disheveled appearance, but then again, this is his appearance
whether he stayed up all night or not. Barney, like Ros, or Taylor, or Andrea
has been one of my best finds as far as quality employee is concerned who would
meet my demands and go the extra mile to achieve the required task. I found him
just as he graduated with his Masters in Computer Science finishing it in one
year. By the time he was 21, he had a Master’s degree in Computer Science, from
UCSD and moved back to Seattle to be near his family.
“Thank you
Barney,” I say genuinely. He looks up at me, and blinks a few times, pushes his
glasses back. I have to buy him a pair of new glasses for Christmas or
something. I make a mental note of that. Unused to hearing me thanking him for
something he’s done, for a minute he’s speechless.
“Uhm, yes, not a
problem, sir,” he says not knowing how to take the compliment. Taylor’s eyes I
notice go wide for a second, but he too is impassive in the next minute.
“That’d be all
Barney. Send Andrea in on your way out,” I say.
“Of course,
sir,” he say closing his MacBook Air, and as he’s walking out, I notice that he
must have made an attempt to tuck his shirt in on the back of his pants, but
Andrea must have lit a fire under him, so he must have hurried into my office.
I see his checkered boxers peeking as his jeans slung a little lower while the
suspender is trying to hold the pants up since his non-existing ass isn’t doing
the job. That’s what Taylor must have found amusing a little earlier. I see the
same humor cross through his face again.
As Barney makes
his way out of my office, my office door is left cracked open and I hear Barney
talking to Andrea on his way out.
“Frosty! Boss
wants you in there!” he says, his voice is drifting outside the office as he is
walking away. Frosty? Not a term of endearment.
Andrea’s muttering
can be heard, “Geek!” and the next thing I hear is her heels clicking and she
enters into my office with her iPad and files in her arms. Taylor shifts his
gaze to some corner in the room to hide his grin.
“Are you ready
to go over your schedule, sir?” she asks in her usual professional demeanor.
“In a minute.
First I want you to make an appointment for me to see a property this evening.”
“Certainly, sir.
Do you happen to know where this business is located? Or whom shall I contact?”
“It’s not a
business. It’s a home,” I say nonchalantly, and both Taylor’s and Andrea’s head
shot up looking at me. This is the first time I manage to shock them both at
the same time.
*****
The work day
flows busily. I inspect the new fire suppression system for the servers along
with Ros. Taylor drives both Ros and I to the upscale French restaurant for our
business lunch meeting. It is an informal setting for a potential business
acquisition. I’m testing the waters, and see what they can offer. The company
is eager. The price seems to be right. But I always analyze the numbers. Ros is
very shrewd when it comes to business. She can make grown men; with years of
business experience shake in their boots with her know how. The old man is
willing to sell the company. He’s not willing to let the junior take over. Not
that junior is the type to run a company. But the company has a board of
directors. Some are more than eager to have the company to be absorbed by GEH.
They think their stock is going to go up overnight. I don’t do partners; and I
certainly don’t do stocks within my company. They didn’t even do their homework
before they came to meet me. The only person I’d rather be doing business with
is the old man. Not his pathetic son and not his useless board. They’re all
trying to butter me up to get a deal they want. Ros is disgusted by the looks
of it, and I’m none too pleased either.
Doing business
is as easy as fucking for me. I’m good at both. But I’m the one who makes the
choice and I like to always remain in control; not the other way around. The
board and the son look like eager hyenas, and they old man is like an aged
lion; these fuckers were ready to take him down any second. But the good thing
was, the old man had the lion’s share of the stock interest, and he controls
the majority. That was the only smart thing he did with his company. But the rest
of the group is almost licking the chops, so eager. Their sales are down, cost
is up, employees are inefficient, and no one seems to care what it took this
man to build his company and carry on for nearly forty years. I’ll take my time
with this, and when the time is right, I’ll buy it, and get rid of the useless
board, either fix it, or liquidate it. I need to crunch the numbers first.
On the way back
from the two hour meeting, I turn to Ros and ask, “What’s your take on the old
man, the son, and the board?” I say with distaste when I think about the last
two.
“I wouldn’t mind
doing business with the old man,” she says immediately. “His son however is
useless, womanizer by the way he was trying to make his move on me, and it’s
sad that such a man bred out of the decent old man,” she says reflecting what I
felt exactly.
“What to say
about the board...” she says as if she’s in deep contemplation. “Honestly Mr.
Grey, I didn’t know where your ass ended, and their lips began, by the way they
were getting in line to kiss your rear end,” she says and making me laugh out
loud. “But among the whole lot, the only one worth doing business with is the
old man. The rest are vultures.”
When my own
instincts are aligned with Ros’, I know my decisions are confirmed. We’ll only
deal with the old man, and ditch the worthless fucking hyenas.
As Taylor pull
into the GEH parking lot, my Blackberry buzzes, and the sender puts a bit smile
on my face. Ros eyes me curiously. I say nothing. Her eyes seek Taylor’s on the
rearview mirror and he stares back at her impassively.
________________________________________
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Megalomaniac...
Date: June 16, 2011 15:42
To: Christian Grey
...is my
favorite type of maniac. Thank you for the beautiful roses. They’ve arrived in
a giant wicker basket immediately making me think of picnics and blankets.
X
________________________________________
I wait to go up
in my office to write a response, away from Ros’ scrutinizing eyes, not that I
care about it. But I don’t want anyone’s nose where they don’t belong.
________________________________________
From: Christian Grey
Subject: fresh air
Date: June 16, 2011 15:54
To: Anastasia Steele
Favorite kind of
maniac? I’m quite sure that Dr. Flynn may have something to say about this.
Do you want to
go on a picnic, Anastasia? We could
indeed have a lot of fun in the great outdoors.
How’s your day
going so far baby?
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey
Enterprises Holdings Inc.
________________________________________
There are a number
of new activities I’ve recently added to my outdoor favorites, and they all
include Anastasia.
________________________________________
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: hectic day
Date: June 16, 2011 15:59
To: Christian Grey
My day has been
so busy, it’s just flown by. I didn’t even have a spare minute to myself to
think about anything other than just work. I feel like I can do this! I’ll tell
you more about it when I get home.
About the
outdoors...it sounds very interesting.
I love you.
A x
PS: Don’t worry
about Flynn.
________________________________________
It’s hard not to
worry... I’m a man who always likes to be in control. Putting together two people
I hardly have any control over to discuss something about me, who both know how
fucked up I am worries me especially if the result of their conversation can
alter my life irrevocably.
________________________________________
From: Christian Grey
Subject: I’ll try...
Date: June 16, 2011 16:08
To: Anastasia Steele
...not to worry.
Laters, baby.
X
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey
Enterprises Holdings Inc.
________________________________________
Taylor picks up
his phone to answer a text which must have just came.
“Mr. Grey,
Bastille is at the gym downstairs.”
“Great!” I say.
“We’ll go down in a minute. Let me wrap up here.”
It’s been a busy
day, and I need to work this approaching stress out of my system. Taylor and I
take the elevators down to the gym. Quickly change in the locker room and go to
meet Bastille. He’s already warmed up, and after I do my warm ups and we start
practicing MMA with Bastille. Fifteen minutes into the exercise, I catch
Bastille in his open guard. I grasp his left calf by snaking my right arm
around it as close to his tendon as possible. He’s completely shocked that I
could do this to him this early in the game. With my right forearm I begin to
press into the Achilles tendon.
Out of breath,
and fighting against a struggling Bastille, I slide my left knee over his right
thigh and push down on his chest with my left hand so he wouldn’t get up. Then
I fall backwards on my left side as I simultaneously throw my right leg over
Bastille’s. I firmly press my right foot against his body and slide my left leg
through the opening of his legs. Bastille is quite surprised of this much progress.
But I relentlessly move on. I then bring both my feet tightly together against
Bastille’s body and press with them. My right forearm digs hard into his tendon
as I grasp of my own left wrist while arching backwards and pressing my hips
forward. By quickly looking over my shoulder which is a crucial move allowing
me to use full force of my muscles and squeezing my knees together I sink the
lock in strongly. I finally have him on a submission hold using one of the
Compression Locks techniques, the Achilles Lock.
After struggling
out of my hold and pain starts registering, Bastille taps the floor and I
release him of the hold.
The rest of the
practice goes on without yielding to one another as much, but Bastille tries to
even the score by swinging an unexpected angle kick. He uses the Muay Thai
technique. This actually is a very effective technique because if he managed to
hit me, it would have felt like I’ve been hit with a baseball bat at best, and in
the worst case of the scenario, he could have knocked me out. But I manage to
deflect his attack and counter it with a low kick targeting his thigh just
about his knee joint and weaken his leg making him land on his ass on the floor
and getting my score to two. At the end of a little over an hour work out, I
only manage to dull the edges of my nervousness about the approaching
appointment with Flynn.
Having taken a
quick shower, I get in my clothes, and Taylor drives me to Escala. Anastasia
will be driving herself today. I’m a little nervous about it, since her driving
easily gets distracted, by something as simple as a radio.
I make my way up
to the penthouse as Taylor is parking the SUV. After going into the apartment,
I make my way to my bedroom. I take my work clothes off and slip into my low
hanging jeans and a white t-shirt. I go to the kitchen and pour myself some
white wine. I take a sip of the wine, and I taste the chilled crispiness as it
goes down smoothly. I close my eyes and savor the taste for a second. As I take
another sip, I feel my Blackberry vibrating. I fish it out of my jean’s pocket,
and look at the caller. It’s Ros.
“Grey,” I answer
the phone.
“Mr. Grey, Ros.
Have you talked to Barney today?”
“I have.” She
expects me to elaborate.
“What do you
need to know?”
“Since we have
acquired the SIP,” she starts saying, and she gets my full attention.
“I wanted to
know if we were going to keep it, or sell it later.”
“I have every
intention of keeping it,” I say tersely.
“Good, because
if that’s the case, I was thinking that we could save us money if we merged their
network system into ours. Instead of keeping two separate IT departments, it’d
be wiser, and not to mention cost effective to absorb it into ours. Since we’ve
invested millions of Dollars into the new IT system, I think this would be
beneficial for the GEH,” she says.
“True, but I
still like to keep it as a separate entity. Merging it and moving it over might
incur unexpected costs. I think Barney can assess this better, and can come up
with the numbers for us for the long and short term,” I say. Considering how
Anastasia is, if she thinks she no longer wants to work for the SIP, I can sell
it. But my long term plans include giving the SIP to Anastasia down the road. I
drain the remainder of the wine in my glass, and walk to the floor to ceiling
windows gazing outside, watching the city skyline and dimming sun.
“I spoke to
Barney, and he said that their system isn’t very complicated, and even
outdated. We would have to update the system, and that incurs a rather large
amount of cost, though obviously not as much as we’ve just spent for ours. Barney
was saying that absorbing SIP’s system into ours with an easy to separate unit
here, would both allow us easy access to it, and fix, should we need to upkeep
anything.”
“That actually
is not a bad idea,” I say knowing it will give me a little more leverage and
access to Anastasia and I can also protect her better should she get another
boss who is overfriendly like the previous one. I feel a pull and crackling
electricity getting my nerves stand on attention right then. I feel her gaze
before I see her face. I immediately turn, and all is right in my world once
again because Anastasia’s here. I can’t help but smile at her as wide as I can
after seeing her beautiful face. My mind has left the conversation I was having
with Ros.
“I was just
fiddling with the numbers, and I asked Barney some of the cost, I think this
would make...” she says but I don’t let her finish her sentence.
“Ros, that’s
wonderful. Tell Barney we’ll go from there...”
“From where
Christian?” she asks confused.
“Good bye.”
“What? Wait!”
she says and I hang up.
I’m too anxious
to be with Anastasia to think of any servers at this moment. It’s not that
pressing. I deposit my Blackberry back into my pocket and saunter over to
Anastasia. She’s as fresh and crisp as she was this morning. I feel the
magnetic pull towards her. Like she’s the sun, and I’m the planet.
“Good evening,
Anastasia,” I murmur and lean down to kiss her. My arms wrap around her body,
and I envelope her. “Congratulations on your promotion, baby,” I whisper,
nibbling her ear. She inhales my scent her head digging into my chest.
“You had a
shower,” she murmurs.
“I’ve just had a
workout with Bastille,” I explain.
“Oh, I see,” she
says raveling in my scent.
“It was great.
I’ve managed to knock him on his ass twice,” I say grinning. I can brag a
little to my girlfriend; after all I don’t get to knock him over that often.
It’s usually the other way around.
She smiles back
at me.
“So, doesn’t
that happen often?”
“No, not really.
And when it does happen, it’s quite satisfying. Are you hungry?”
She shakes her
head in the negative and her face falls. I grow concerned immediately.
“What?” I ask
frowning. What’s the matter?
“It’s just that
I’m nervous about Dr. Flynn,” she says, and her words reflect what I have been
feeling all day.
“I’m nervous
too,” I confess. “But, tell me about your day,” I say trying to distract us both
from the nerves.
“Oh! Christian,
I was so nervous this morning. As soon as I got to the office, I found a note
telling me to go to Elizabeth’s office immediately. I thought with Jack being
gone, she was gonna tell me they no longer needed me. Then I go into her
office, and we’re just staring at each other. My heart is at my throat, so she
finally says, she has some sad news, and that Jack has left the company rather
suddenly, as if he did that out of the goodness of his heart,” she says
shuddering. I nod, encouraging her to go on.
“Then she tells
me that his departure created a vacancy and they would like me to fill it for
the time being until there is a replacement. I got nervous of course. I wasn’t
sure if I could do the job. Her reasoning was that Jack championed my skills
and apparently he had high hopes for me,” she says grimacing. With that, my jaw
clenches, my lips go into a taut line, and my eyes darken. I should have beaten
that fucker more last night!
“Well, we know
what his high hopes were about!” I say bitterly.
“Yes, well, you
saved the day,” she says smiling, and wrapping her arms around me, easing the
tension. I kiss the top of her head, and ask her what else had happened.
“Anyway, because
I had been in touch with Jack’s key authors and that they took notice of the
chapter notes I’ve written, they think I’m capable of doing the job. And the
rest of the day went on with one meeting and another,” she says releasing me.
“Oh, I forgot to
tell you. I was supposed to have lunch with Mia today,” she says. I didn’t know
that. How come she never mentioned that before?
I raise an
inquisitive eyebrow and say, “You’ve never mentioned that before.”
“I know, I
totally forgot. But I couldn’t go because of the meeting, and Ethan Kavanagh
took her out to lunch instead,” she says in one quick breath.
My sister with
the Kavanagh fellow? What was he doing coming to Anastasia’s work anyway? Is it
an attempt to move in on her? I wouldn’t be surprised after what happened in
Anastasia’s apartment.
“I see,” I say
flatly.
Anastasia sees
my darkening gaze, and nervously bites her lip. The dark energy is entwined
with the desire I feel for her now.
“Stop biting
your lip, Anastasia.”
She quickly
stops biting and says she’s going to freshen up before we leave for Flynn’s
office, and quickly makes her exit out of the room, before I can question her
about Kavanagh and my sister leaving me hot and bothered, standing here.
*****
We drive to
Flynn’s office in Anastasia’s Saab. Anastasia is surprised with the short
distance. I tell her that I combine my exercise and my therapy by running to
his office. She smiles. I’m completely pleased with the way her car handles;
her safety is in good hands.
She looks
distracted.
“Yeah, uhm. I
think so too,” she says smiling, but her mind is elsewhere. Her chest is
heaving anxiously; her gaze is matching her heart. She’s too nervous.
“Christian...”
she says making an ‘o’ with her lips to exhale, and take a deep breath. “...I,”
she says swallowing. What’s the matter? Why is she extremely nervous? Is she
thinking of breaking up with me here?
“What's the
matter, Ana?” I ask reflecting her anxiety.
Finally she digs
into her purse, and brings up something, and holds that article small enough to
fit into her palms. “Here,” she says. I look down confused. It’s a tiny gift
box sitting in the middle of her palm wrapped in brown paper wrap and tied up
with strings.
“I’ve got this
for your birthday. I would like you to have it now, but only if you promise not
to open it until Saturday, on your birthday, okay?”
I don’t get
presents that much, because people usually don’t know what to give me, since I
seemingly have everything, and can afford everything. But, everything Anastasia
does or gives me is a treasure. The fact that she thought of me... I swallow
hard. This means so much. This little tiny box is big enough to hold the
universe inside it for me. It’s from Anastasia! I look up at her trying to blink
away the emotions that are forcing their way out, and I can only murmur “okay,”
to her.
My gaze is fixed
on that little box.
She takes a deep
lungful of breath as if this is her last, and puts the box inside my awaiting
hand. I feel overwhelmed, amazed, frozen, paralyzed all at the same time - all
with the courtesy of this tiny little box. I finally hold the small box between
my thumb and index finger, and shake it by my ear. It rattles. Hmm. What could
it be? It’s not a ring. It would be wishful thinking! It’s heavier than a ring,
and a ring wouldn’t rattle. It would sit firmly.
Are they
cufflinks? It’d be more of a clicking noise if the box had cufflinks. Not a
rattle. Argh! The curiosity is burning me inside out! I hold it on my palm and
gaze at it. I don’t have Superman’s x-ray vision. The frustration makes me
frown. What could it be? Anastasia, this is pure torture! This is only
Thursday! Two frigging days to wait!
I finally smile.
I can wait to open it on Saturday! This is from Anastasia. I’ll keep it close
to my heart for a couple of days for safekeeping inside my pinstripe jacket.
As I put it
inside my jacket, Anastasia warns me, “You aren’t allowed to open it till
Saturday.”
“I get it. But,
why are you giving this to me now?” If she doesn’t want to me to open it till
Saturday, it doesn’t make sense for her give it to me now. Or does it? Is there
significance?
Anastasia’s
answer brings me out of my reveries. “Because I can, Mr. Grey,” she says
smirking and making me grin in response to her smile even though she stole my
line!
Flynn’s
receptionist, an older lady, Eleanor greets us.
“Good evening,
Eleanor,” I reply to her greeting.
“Dr. Flynn is
waiting for you sir. Right this way,” she says as she beams at us, or maybe at
me, and Anastasia’s eyes narrow on her. Jealous? Her response makes me feel just a tiny bit
better. As we enter into Flynn’s office, Anastasia takes in the décor. She eyes
the pale green room with dark green couches, and leather winged chairs. Flynn
stands up from his desk at the far end of the corner and walks over to greet
us. I notice that Anastasia gives a quick once over to Flynn’s black slacks,
pale blue open necked shirt, and finally stopping at his blue eyes. Flynn
greets me first extending his hand.
“Christian,” he
says smiling.
“John,” I
respond as I take his hand. “You remember Anastasia?” I say as a way of
reintroduction.
“Of course. How
could I forget? Welcome Anastasia,” he welcomes her warmly in his Londoner
accent.
“Call me Ana,
please,” says Anastasia.
“Ana,” he replies.
And he leads us into the room. I gesture to one of the couches for Anastasia,
and she seats herself though looking very nervous. She crosses her legs, and
deciding against it, crosses her feet at the ankles. She tries to put her arms
on the arm rest, but that too is uncomfortable for her, and finally she places
them on her lap. I take the couch next to hers placed in a right angle. There
is a side table with a small table lamp on it between our chairs. I sprawl on
the couch cross my legs, and rest my ankle on my knee. I extend my arm on the
back of the sofa, and reach across to find Anastasia’s nervous hand, and
squeeze it to give some reassurance, though I don’t know whether it’s for her
benefit, or mine. Flynn takes his seat in the winged chair, his leather notepad
in his hand ready to observe.
“Ana, Christian
has requested that you accompany him to one of our sessions. Just to inform
you, we treat these sessions with absolute
confidentiality,” says Flynn. But Anastasia interrupts him.
“Oh, yes, I understand
Dr. Flynn... I’ve already signed an NDA,” she murmurs misunderstanding the
doctor. I release her hand as if her words shock me with a jolt of electricity.
“I’m sorry,
what? Did you mean a non-disclosure agreement?” he asks and Anastasia nods,
confused. Flynn looks at me questioning, and I casually shrug.
“Just out of
curiosity Christian... Indulge me if you will...” he says clearing his throat. “Do
you start all of your relationships with women with a Non-Disclosure
Agreement?” Of course all my employees sign one, all my doctors sign one; in
fact even Flynn signed one. He should have an idea of this knowing who I am and
what I do with women.
“I do with the
contractual ones,” I reply. Flynn tries to suppress a smile.
“Have you had
any other types of relationship with women?” he asks in an amused tone.
“No, I guess
not,” I say smiling, seeing the irony in it.
That of course
confirms Flynn’s suspicions. “In that case, we have nothing to worry about
confidentiality. However, since I understand that you are entering into a
non-contractual relationship, I would suggest that you revisit and discuss the
NDA at some point.”
“I hope to enter
into a different kind of contract with her,” I say in soft murmur, and glimpsing
at Anastasia who is now blushing profusely. Flynn looks at me quizzically
narrowing his eyes. Then shaking his head he turns to Anastasia and says, “Ana,
you have to forgive me, but perhaps I know a lot about you than you may think.
Christian has been very candid.” Anastasia’s eyes dart at me frantic,
questioning.
Flynn’s question
breaks her gaze and she turns her attention to him.
“Ana, so,
signing an NDA... That must have been quite a shock for you.” Anastasia looks,
and blinks, and shakes her head in the negative.
“The shock of
the NDA was inconsequential compared to Christian’s most recent revelations,”
she replies in her soft voice, anxious.
Flynn nods
smiling at Ana, “I’m sure,” he replies. Then turns to me and asks, “So
Christian, what would you like to discuss today?”
I shrug
nonchalantly though I’m nervous as hell. This is it!
“It was
Anastasia who wanted to see you today. Perhaps you should direct the question
to her,” I say to Flynn who looks surprised, but dons his professional face,
and turns to Anastasia questioning. Anastasia immediately gets shy, her gaze
dipping to her knotted fingers. She’s not used to being the center focus.
Then fucking
Flynn asks her a question that makes me nervous as hell!
“Ana, would you
be more comfortable if Christian left us for a little while?” Anastasia’s gaze
immediately darts at me, and I look at her hopeful that she’d be comfortable enough
with my presence to be able to discuss whatever is worrying her.
“Yes,” she
whispers and my heart sinks. I open my mouth to protest, frowning. I look from
one person to another. I close my mouth. I can do this... I can do this... I
stand up sulkily.
“I’ll be in the
waiting room,” I say to no one in particular. My nerves are so taut, and I’m so
on edge, I feel like a tightly strung bow with a ready to shoot arrow. I slowly
exhale like a bull through my nose as my teeth are gritted and my mouth goes
into a flat line.
“Thank you
Christian,” says Dr. Flynn unperturbed.
I turn and look
at Anastasia, searching her gaze. Why doesn’t she want me in here? Does this
mean she doesn’t want me at all? I wouldn’t be surprised. What could she
possibly want to talk to him without my presence here? I’m so fucking ready to
drag her out of Flynn’s office, and never come back. But, that would backfire
on me. What to do? What to do? Take her out, or wait out and see how things
play? Do I have to do some damage control? I might have to... I see no
apprehension in Anastasia’s eyes, but that doesn’t mean she’s not apprehensive.
Fine! I’ll give her this. Thirty minutes, starting now! Fuck! Flynn can tell
her my life story in thirty minutes. He’s signed an NDA. He’s not supposed to
divulge information about me. But then again, I delivered Anastasia to him with
my own fucking hands! I can’t take him to court it, can I if he imparts with
personal information about me, can I? Depends on what he says to her.
I walk out into
the waiting room, and Eleanor beams up at me. I sit casually at one of the
leather couches.
“Would you like
something to drink Mr. Grey?” asks Eleanor helpfully.
“No, thanks,” I
say tersely.
My gaze is fixed
on the hallway where Anastasia and Flynn are locked in together talking. Talking
about us... Deciding on our future! I can’t do a fucking shit about it! Shouldn’t
I be one of the people who have a say on that decision? Twenty six minutes and
thirteen seconds left.
I cross my left
ankle over my right knee. My arms are resting against the back of the sofa. No,
this is not comfortable. I retrieve my arms to my lap, lift my butt off the
sofa, and retrieve my Blackberry to look busy for Eleanor’s benefit who is
eyeing me like I’m a lab experiment.
I scroll through
my e-mails. Ros on business acquisition, Ros on the Korean shipyard, Ros on merging
SIP servers into ours, Barney’s take on server immersion, Welch progress on
Hyde – there’s not much to report yet, Barney again on the cost of our last
server room update, Andrea e-mailing me about WSU farming project, and possible
progress update and meeting tomorrow, and Anastasia’s last message. It’s
telling me not to worry about Flynn. Should I heed to her? How can I not worry
when she practically let Flynn kick me out of the room? Is this the behavior of
a girlfriend who tells you not to worry? She would have said, “I’ve nothing to
hide from Christian. He can remain...” No! She had to get me kicked out! Why?
Does she love me less now? Do I still intimidate her that much? I shake my head
to shake off the thoughts.
Gotta find
something to occupy my mind... I scroll through the contents of my phone and
find a game involving some angry looking birds. Well, good! I know exactly how
you feel. My fingers are shaking as I try to destroy the piled boxes slinging
those mad faced birds. My mind isn’t concentrating.
“Mr. Grey, are
you alright, sir?” a concerned voice asks leaning. I blink and look up.
“Yes, why?” I
say, looking up frowning.
“You seem to be
shaking, sir. Are you cold in here?”
I look down my
legs, and I have that nervous gesture again. I slowly get my leg down.
“I can have that
water now, Eleanor. Thank you,” I say distracting her.
She scurries
away to get me a bottle of water. I check my time again. Eighteen minutes and
twenty seven seconds. Time has always been of essence, but until I met
Anastasia, I never counted the seconds. I feel like Anthony Constantino right
now. His words ring in my head and how true they are. “Only when I grew to love you did I understand the relativity of time; then,
I wished to embrace you forever, hoping that eternity would last just a few
minutes more.” Except
that my lover is inside that room, while I’m sitting out here, tormenting
myself!
I get up from the seat and start wearing a track
on Flynn’s Turkish rug in the waiting room. Eleanor comes in, and hands me the
water. I take it absently. My heart is at my throat. I can’t take this waiting!
I feel like I’ve been bound and gagged and terrorized and castrated, and
lobotomized all at the same time even though she wrote in her e-mail to not to
worry about Flynn. How can I not when I’m sitting here... well, pacing here,
and Flynn is very possibly recommending her to dump my ass! My hand reaches
inside my pocket. I bring out the small box into my hand. I hold it in my hand
as if it is the lifeline Anastasia tossed at me. She loves me. She loves me.
She loves me, I chant in my head.
Thirteen minutes...
The love I have for Anastasia scares me. But what
scares me more is not having her love me back, or worse stop loving me... Worst
still would be not having her in my life. I have to have her body and soul and
heart. Anything less would destroy me...
Wasn’t it Benito Behar who wrote:
“All I do is act on my passion and they call it sin.
All
I do is tell the truth and they call me a hypocrite.
All
I feel is pain and sorrow and they call it love.
All
I do is pour my heart out to empty pages, and they call it poetry.”
The poor fucker must have been in love! Welcome to
the club, sucker! Get in line for pain! We’re open 24/7! By the time Anastasia
says “yes” to me, I’ll end up becoming a poet as well... I halt in my tracks.
What if she doesn’t? What if this is it? What if Flynn says I have too much
shit and she thinks that it’s not worth the trouble?
“Oh fuck!” I say loudly, and Eleanor looks up
blushing with my epitaph. I start pacing the carpet again and making Flynn’s
receptionist nervous.
No! No! No! No!
She’s part of my existence, part of myself, part of my soul! Everywhere
I look, I imagine her. She’s been in my hopes and dreams, and in every prospect
of my future... I didn’t come here, and brought her here so she can leave me!
I’m not here to lose her. It’d be a cold day in hell if she leaves me today!
Oh God! She can hurt me... She really can hurt me
by leaving me. I don’t know what they’re talking in there, and I’m writhing in
agony here. Fuck!
Four minutes! Four lousy minutes!
I’m so fucking jealous of the time Flynn is
spending with my woman even if he’s the shrink, and the powerlessness of not
being in there is torture... I’m the one who is fucking in love with her, for
God’s sake!
Two minutes... I’m calling it time!
I go to Flynn’s office, and knock on the door
sharply showing my fucking irritation. How would anyone understand this love
burning me inside out? I’m man on fire! I walk into the room, and scowl at both
Anastasia and Dr. Flynn.
“Welcome back Christian,” says Flynn smiling. Oh, shut up!
“I believe your time is up John,” I say pointedly.
“Almost, Christian. Come and join us,” he says
temperately.
After the tortures of the last twenty-eight
minutes, I can’t stay an inch away from Anastasia. I have to have physical
contact with her. I sit next to her on the couch as our legs are touching like
we’re joined in the hips, and I place my hand over her knee to let Flynn know
just who she belongs to. I can’t help it. Even if he has a wife he’s in love
with, and he’s my shrink, I have to declare my territory. She’s my woman! My
lover! My girlfriend! After waiting this horrendous twenty-eight minutes, I
don’t care who thinks it’s possessive, Flynn or anyone else! I think even God
would agree with me on this one. I’m not the first man in love! But I love
Anastasia with all my passion, all my existence, all my soul, all that I am,
fucked up or otherwise. Didn’t King Solomon live one of the greatest loves in
human history, and he made his way into the Bible with his love? Why should
mine be any less than Biblical proportions?
Flynn eyes my possessive
hand over Anastasia’s leg. Yes, take a good look at it! She’s my woman!
“Do you have any more
questions Ana?” he asks in a concerned tone. Why is he concerned? What did she
ask? Oh, fuck! She just shakes her head nervously.
“How about you
Christian?”
“No, not today, John,” I
answer, my gaze without leaving Anastasia’s face. He just nods his head in
acknowledgement.
“Perhaps, you may find it
beneficial, if you both come again in the future. I’ve no doubt that Ana will
have more questions.”
What questions is he
talking about? I nod unenthusiastically. Unblinking, I’m still looking at
Anastasia, and she flushes with Flynn’s comment. Is she still with me? Still my
lover, my girlfriend?
“Are you okay?” I ask
concerned in a low voice. She nods her head and smiles at me. I finally exhale
a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I feel just a fraction better. With that
small relief I squeeze her hand in reassurance. But still, I want to leave here
with her and do a damage assessment.
I get up, and haul
Anastasia to her feet.
As we’re leaving I
finally remember to check on Leila. In a low voice I ask Flynn how she’s doing
in her progress. He tells me that she’ll get there.
“Keep me updated of her
progress,” I say and he reassures me that he will.
Then I turn to Anastasia
and ask, “Shall we celebrate your promotion now?” a little sharply. She
understands my tone, and nods shyly.
I can barely get out of
Flynn’s office, and as soon as the door is closed behind us, and we’re on the
street, I turn to her and ask her how it went.
“It was good,” she says
cryptically.
That’s it? Good? My
suspicion is rising inside, anxious and nervous.
Cocking her head to one
side, she says, “Please don’t look at me that way, Mr. Grey. Under doctor’s
orders, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt.”
Huh?
“What? What’s that mean?”
I’m completely surprised at her easy demeanor.
“You’ll see,” she says
with a glint in her eyes.
Her response oddly makes
me smile, but I manage to narrow my gaze on her scrutinizing, and opening the
passenger door of her car, I finally order her, “Get in the car.”
But before she manages to
get in the car, her Blackberry starts ringing. She takes a
look at the caller, and her face blanches. Who is it?
“Hi!” she answers in a
high pitched voice. Dare I guess who it is? A male voice greets her, and
jealousy in me shoots up many rungs on the ladder. I gaze at her suspiciously.
“Jose,” she mouths at me.
Fucking bastard! How many stress inducers can I handle in one day? My face
hides my apprehension, but hard to keep it off my eyes.
“I’m sorry I haven’t had
a chance to call you. Is this about tomorrow?” she asks him, but her gaze is on
me. What’s she asking me?
I hear something about
the pictures I purchased. This must be the courtesy hand delivery by another
admirer of hers! I’ll pay for the shipping triple if I have to; he can stay
where he is!
Anastasia clears her
throat nervously. What the hell is he asking her?
“Jose, I’m actually
currently staying with Christian,” she says, and turning and looking at me she
adds, “He says you can also stay at his place if you wanted to.” The hell I
did! I’m backed into a corner. It’s either he stays with us, or my girlfriend
goes and stays with two guys who are both drooling over her! Can a man get a
break here?
My mouth gets into a taut
line, and Anastasia cringes. Then after the fucker asks him something, she
turns her back to me and starts walking to the other side of the sidewalk.
“Yes,” she answers a
question I couldn’t hear.
Rolling her eyes, she
says, “Serious.” Thousand Dollars says they’re talking about us.
She’s fidgeting where
she’s standing.
“Yes,” she answers again
monosyllabic. I’m sure it’s all for my benefit. What does she not want me to
hear? Why the secrecy?
She exhales and says, “Of
course I am,” she says. Of course she is what?
She listens his muttering
again. “Yes, you can pick me up from work.” Great!
“I’ll text you the
address.” She listens again. They’re arranging a time to meet.
“Say about six?”
She grins ear to ear into
the phone. I don’t like her responding to another man like that. Because I
think a man should never give the opportunity to another man to make his woman
smile! That’s my job! Not that fucker’s!
“Great. I’ll see you
tomorrow,” and disconnects the call.
I’m leaning onto the Saab
and my arms are crossed over my chest.
“How’s your friend?” I
ask nonchalantly.
“He’s fine. He’ll pick me
up from work to go for a drink. Would you like to come with us?”
I’m trying to assess the
situation. Will he be a threat to Ana? If he’s, then I’ll definitely be there.
If she thinks he won’t, I’ll try to show her that I can make concessions, and
she can see his friend without any interruption from me. I think I can manage
that.
“Do you think he’ll try
anything with you?” I ask coolly trying to assess her expression.
“No! Of course, not!” she
replies agitated. That’s good enough for me.
I hold my hands up to
acquiesce. “Alright. You can hang out with Jose, and I’ll see you
later in the evening.”
She takes a step back and
looks at me like asking ‘who are you, and what have you done with Christian?’
making me smile.
“See? I can be reasonable
time to time,” I say smirking.
But of course, with
Anastasia, it’s always testing her boundaries, and trying to find a weak fence.
“Can I drive?” she asks
excitedly. Well, that didn’t take long.
“I’d rather not be
driven.” I reply.
“But that’s not fair!
Don’t you trust my driving? You let me drive this morning, and you always let
Taylor drive you,” she says petulantly.
“It’s because I trust
Taylor’s driving implicitly.” She looks like she’s ready for a fight with her
hands fisted on her hips.
“My God, Christian! I’ve
been driving since I was fifteen years old. You know, your control freakery
knows no limits!” I shrug as if it’s something don’t care about. She walks up to me angrily.
Pointing at the car she hisses.
“Did you get this car for
me?” she asks in a demanding voice.
“Yes, of course.”
“Then, I want the keys.
I’ve only driven this vehicle twice – to and from work. Meanwhile you’re having
all the fun, and playing with my car!” she says pouting. Jesus! She’s so hot
when she’s angry at me! So lively! So, passionate! I try to suppress my smile.
“But you have no idea
where we’re going,” I say trying to derail her plan.
“Well, Mr. Grey,” she
says softening her tone, and turning it into a salacious voice. “I’m sure you
can enlighten me. I know that to be true; after all, you’ve done a great job of
it so far,” she says as she runs caressing fingers over the hood of the car as
she’s approaching me.
When did she learn to
seduce me like that? She stuns me in silence, and my libido just shot up to ‘gotta
have her now’ and I can only smile at her in response.
“Did you say great job?”
I ask questioning, wanting her to repeat her acknowledgement.
She blushes. “Mostly,
yes,” she replies.
“Well then, Miss Steele,
in that case you may drive us,” I say handing her the keys, and walk over and
open the driver’s door for her.
*****
“Place me like a seal over your heart, like a
seal on your arm, for love is as strong as death, it's jealousy as unyielding
as the grave. It burns like a blazing fire, like a mighty flame, many waters
cannot quench love, rivers cannot wash it away.”*
*Song of Solomon
(8:67)
