Book IV - Chapter XXII - Christian and Anastasia Fan Fiction

NEW YORK

I can’t with any conscience argue for New York with anyone. It’s like Calcutta. But I love the city in an emotional, irrational way, like loving your mother or your father even though they’re a drunk or a thief. I’ve loved the city my whole life — to me, it’s like a great woman. 

Woody Allen

            “Ana!” I chide her. “We’re going to take off in ten minutes. You need to turn off your Blackberry.”

            “I know! I know! But, Hannah has to bring some important manuscripts that I forgot to pack. I don’t have them in the shared drive so I can’t access them from outside, not with all the overhauling IT guys have done. And we needed those for introducing some of our up and coming writers. So, she’ll have take a flight late tonight or early tomorrow morning.”

“Will she make it on time? Do you want me to come with you to the Symposium? My offer still stands,” I say to Anastasia. If the assistant isn’t there, I need someone in very close proximity to her. Anastasia rolls her eyes.

“No, Christian! She’ll make it tomorrow afternoon at the latest. Even if she doesn’t make it which is unlikely, I think I can handle myself. Besides, I should be able to show the others I can do well alone.” Then she lowers her voice.

“I told you, you’re a distraction to others, and I want them to pay attention to what I have to say instead of ogling my husband.” I pout in her remark knowing the effect.

“I think Melissa can play the role of my assistant for one day if Hannah can’t make it to the Symposium on time.”

“Okay. I can live with that, though that is not what I desire. Since I’ve compromised, I think you owe me big time, Mrs. Grey.”

“Big time?” she asks her eyes widening.

“Yes. Carte blanche kind of big time.”

“Carte blanche,” she says trying the word for size, suddenly breathless. I reach and take her Blackberry off her hand and turn it off without looking at it, and drop it into her purse.

“Yes, last time I was here, I went to a business meeting all by myself. I was distracted with your disobedience and I was accosted with the most unwelcome advances by both female and male vultures.” Her head snaps up.

“You never said anything about that!” she says, her voice accusatory.

“I was preoccupied with the thoughts of my wife. Nothing to report, but since I’m attending to a similar meeting, I am quite sure the business guests would be part of the same crowd. But this time…” I say pausing; I want my wife in my arm showing her presence with her spectacular body and with her sassy and in charge self, showing her possession of me, and I of her. 

“…this time, I want you with me and I don’t want anyone have any doubt about who I belong and who belongs…to…me.”

A loud female voice interrupts our conversation. The flight attendant is giving the spiel for the aircraft safety. This time I pay close attention to it, because I have the two of the most precious cargo with me: my wife and our baby in her womb. Yet, in that moment, Anastasia’ reaction to what I just said to her doesn't escape my notice. She first blinks then her lips part as if to say something. Oh shit! This could go either way. Is she mad? She turns her head to the flight attendant with her eye brows crossed. Once the mandatory safety instructions are over, I fix my gaze on Anastasia. She takes a deep breath getting ready to collect all her wits about her so she can deliver her most forbidding speech.

Then she opens her mouth to say whatever has been brewing in her mind within the last few minutes, but she’s interrupted by Stephen’s voice echoing through the speakers cautioning us to fasten our seat belts and that we are in line for the take-off. The word ‘take-off’ puts the fear of God in Anastasia. Her hands automatically hold onto her seat, her knuckles going white. I can see the anxiety rising in her. I immediately reach out and hold her hands, and run comforting circles on the back of her hands and her palms.  Our brunette flight attendant comes and quickly collects the empty glasses and plates from the seats. I hear collective clicks from Taylor, Sawyer, Melissa and Reynolds’ seats in the back. My company jet starts taxiing on the runway first slowly then comes to a full stop taking its position in line with the other airplanes for take-off. Then I hear the last click of a seat belt from the back of the jet. It’s probably the flight attendant. Stephen’s voice comes up again.

“It’s 11:06 a.m. local time. We are the third airplane in line for take-off. Please observe the seat belt sign until it is turned off. We are going to arrive in New York City’s John F. Kennedy Airport at 8:38 p.m. Eastern Standard Time. The total estimated flight time is 6 hours and 32 minutes. As always, it’s a pleasure to serve you. Please, sit back and enjoy your flight!”

Anastasia continues to breathe rapidly.

“Relax, baby. I’m here. Focus on me…” Anastasia blinks a few more times.

“Ana, look at me,” I say softly. The last thing I want is my wife going into early labor because of her fear of take-offs. When she looks at me, I give her my most dazzling smile to keep her focused on me instead of her fears. The best technique is the distraction technique for Anastasia.

“What were you upset a minute ago?” I ask.

“Oh!” she says first frowning. “That I didn’t bring any party clothes,” she says with a contemplative voice. “You have to take me to shopping, so, I can look my best when I kick the asses of those who wanted a piece of my husband!”

“Mrs. Grey, are you jealous?” I ask, my eyes darkening.

“A bit! You are mine just as much as I am yours, Christian. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me anything about it!” she says distracted.

“There was nothing to tell except that I deeply felt your absence. It was one of the worst days of my life and there were so many other emergencies to deal with then, I had not remembered it until today. But I still don’t want to talk about that day. It’s… unpleasant,” I murmur remembering Hyde's break-in to our apartment.

“Okay, Mr. Grey. I guess I won’t let you out of my sight when we go to your business meeting. Is it a meeting?” she asks with an afterthought.

“It’s hobnobbing with other big money and businesses from continental U.S., Canada, South America, Europe and South East Asia. Meet and greet, make connections, make business deals while socializing. Normally, it’s quite boring actually but since you will be coming, my night is looking so much better,” I say grinning as the jet speeds up on the runway with terminal velocity and Anastasia’s grip on me gets stronger. The second the wheels of the jet loses connection with the ground, and the nose of the plane is at a steep angle climbing up, Anastasia’s eyes widen.

“Breathe, baby, breathe. It’s just the take-off. We will soon be at cruising altitude,” I say looking for something to distract her again. “How did you like the crib we chose? Were you just acquiescing with me for my sake, or did you really like it?”

She thinks for a moment. Oh oh. That can’t be good.

“I like it,” she says nodding.

“That’s it?” I probe.

“Yes. I don’t think he would appreciate a girly bedroom, and I’m just as anxious as you are for his well-being. Since we are first time parents and neither one of us know anything about parenting, I’d like to think that any little thing that can give us a hand or a leg up is welcome. We’re going to get a nanny; we've discussed that, but I want us to be hands on parents. I think it was actually extremely sweet that you had researched it beforehand to know what exactly you wanted, Mr. Grey,” she says.

“What? How?” I ask surprised.

“Oh, I think I’m getting the measure of my own Grey man and I must say, I love this anxious, protective parent side of you. It makes me proud to know that you are going to be a magnificent father.” She’s smiling and completely sure of herself.

“God! I love you Mrs. Grey! You are the center of my entire universe. Everything rights with you and somehow finds its bearing,” I say kissing her hand. At that moment the overhead lights dings and Stephen turned his seat-belt sign off.

“This is your Captain speaking. You are now free to roam in the cabin.”

“See, piece of cake,” I say grinning at her.

An hour into the flight, Anastasia gets sleepy. Her two naps are now firmly in her schedule. The growth of the baby is taking a lot out of her. So, I walk her into the cabin with the bed.

“Will you lie down and hold me Christian?” she asks yawning. I have to go over business documents, but my wife is more important than those.

“If I lie down with you, I don’t know if can keep my hands off you long enough to let you sleep,” I say truthfully.

“I’d rather have you with me than not even if you can’t keep your hands off me, Mr. Grey,” she says and yawns big again.

“Agh! Fuck it!” I say and take my shoes and socks off. I slide my jacket off and drape it over a chair. Finally pull the duvet cover up and tuck my wife in it and lie down next to her. I turn the lights to dim and pull her into my arms. The last time I was in the plane was when I was flying back from New York, livid, completely beside myself, just intent on reaching to Anastasia in Seattle. Here she is, in my arms. I hold her tighter.

“I love you too, Christian. Night,” she says with a smile in her sleepy voice. I kiss her hair.

“Sleep tight baby,” I whisper. “I love you more.”

***** ❦  ♡  ❧ *****

Our driver meets us at baggage claim with a sign in his hand that says “MR. TAYLOR”. Taylor raises his index and middle finger like the Boy Scout salute and gets the driver’s attention. He’s in his full driver regalia down to the chauffeur’s hat.

“Welcome to New York, Mr. Taylor, sirs, ma’am, ma’am,” he says individually and collectively greeting us. “I’m parked in the parking garage.”

“How’s the weather outside?” I ask.

“It’s about 26 degrees at this hour. I wasn’t sure if your flight would be on time given the weather conditions of our fair city. We have only had moderate snow, expecting heavy snow in about a week, but I think it’ll come down by the end of this week. It’s very cold outside. You might all wanna put your coats on.” he says. When we exit the warmth of the airport into the covered but freeze-your-ass kind of cold airport parking, the onslaught of cold blasts rushes in from all sides; the bitter wind whistles. I wrap Anastasia tighter in her coat. She wraps her scarf to cover her reddened face. Our breaths are smoky wisps. The driver quickly locates the limo and unlocks the doors.

“Brrrr! It’s so cold! I’ve never been in such cold weather!” Anastasia says.

“That’s New York in January, ma’am,” says the limo driver whose name tag reads “Barney J. Harrigan” as he’s opening the door. He has salt and pepper hair appearing to be in his late 50s. 

“Pardon the expression ma’am, but when we get into the city you’ll see that people are like rats scurrying in such an overflow and in a hurry in this cold weather. Because everyone wants to get out of it and find some warm corner to heat up.” I help my wife in while the driver helps Reynolds, Sawyer, Taylor, and Melissa to load the luggage. Everyone files into the vehicle and the driver moves. The limo is cold, but Barney turns it on and blasts the heat.

Manhattan - Rod Stewart

The city looks gritty, dark and hard at around 9 p.m. at night. As the limo speeds through, Taylor is recapping the logistics with the group of security. Ana is curiously looking outside trying to observe the onslaught of the city that is New York. The traffic is rushing scornfully and Anastasia looks mesmerized with the smoke billowing from the manhole covers. When we stop at a red light, the ground underneath us rumbles making Ana startled. 

“It’s the subway,” I remind her. She nods as her mouth is open.

“Lights are everywhere and they’re so bright! Wow! I don’t think the inhabitants of this city have seen the stars or the moon in ages with this much light pollution!” she says trying to twist her head to get a glimpse of the sky. Her eyes are alight with a drunken excitement everyone gets upon seeing the city of New York for the first time. The look says it all: a lot of awe and some intimidation, but mostly expectation. As we drive through the city towards our apartment, Anastasia notices people outside. Some are just looking straight and continuing on their road rapidly, oblivious or uninterested with the going ons around them. There’s that few who occasionally look up.

“Hmm…” Anastasia remarks. “If my observations from Seattle are correct, those who rush by oblivious of the beauty around are local New Yorkers. And those who are looking up every so often like the city is going to grow another skyscraper from the ground are visitors of the city.

“You’re right. No Native New Yorker would stop in the middle of the road to stare up.”

“I never asked you, Christian. Where’s your apartment?” Anastasia asks her eyes alight.

“Our apartment,” I emphasize, “is in Manhattan’s Upper East Side.”

Anastasia looks tired, but she tries to fight it off with her excitement of being in the city of New York. The limo driver navigates his way through the one way streets, and turns into the street where our apartment building is located. When the limo pulls in front of the apartment building he carefully slows down and comes to a complete stop. A doorman rushes to open my door. Taylor lets himself out from the other side and our security detail piles out quickly taking different positions scanning the area then proceed to get the luggage. I help Anastasia out of the car.

“Careful baby, there might be ice on the ground and you have heels,” I says mentally kicking myself. I should have made her wear sneakers or something. This sort of weather is not for podiatric excellence. When the doorman sees me, he beams.

“Mr. Grey! How nice to see you back in New York, sir. Welcome, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Donald. This is my wife, Mrs. Grey.”

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Let’s get you into the warmth of the building. The weather has been unpleasantly cold even though we haven’t had much snow,” he says as he opens the door into the building. I palm some money into Donald’s hand as the gush of warm air greets us, welcomingly. I press the button to call the elevator. Taylor sidles up to me, and discreetly clears his throat. I raise my eyebrows to look at him.

“I’ll take the service elevator with Reynolds to quickly do a sweep, sir. I’d appreciate it if you could delay reaching the penthouse for about three minutes. Let me secure your living quarters,” he says. I give him a sideways nod imperceptibly and he looks at Reynolds and they leave in quick steps.

“What was that about?” Anastasia asks.

“Nothing to worry about, baby,” I say. “Are you tired? Or well enough to go out to dinner?”

“I’d love to go out, but I feel bushed.”

“Okay, we’ll order in, then. There are some wonderful restaurants with excellent cuisine here in the neighborhood.” The elevator doors ding open. Three young people cheerfully chatting exit the elevator and head for the door after tightening their coats and scarves.

“We’ll wait for the next one,” I say as newly arrived residents get into the elevator holding the door open for us. The businessman shrugs and lets the doors close.

“Squeamish to be with others in the same elevator space, Mr. Grey?” Anastasia asks. I roll my eyes in response and press the call button for the elevators again. Once the elevator arrives into the ground floor and the doors ding open, I hold Anastasia on the small of her back and lead her into the elevator space. Both Sawyer and Melissa enter into the elevator after giving a cursory glance into the foyer of the apartment to make sure no one threatening is there. I press the button for the penthouse and enter my key. As the elevator takes us up, Anastasia laces her fingers with mine. When we finally reach the penthouse, the elevator doors slide open. Sawyer holds the door open, and Melissa quickly steps out and scans the foyer. Anastasia rolls her eyes, and as she tries to step out of the elevator, I stop her and scoop her off the floor in my arms. She’s surprised and holds onto me with her arms wrapped on my neck.

“I have to get my wife through every threshold.”

“Mr. Grey, you’re a true romantic,” she whispers.

“Only for you baby,” I murmur and land a chaste kiss on her lips. Taylor comes to the foyer and nods imperceptibly.

“Would you like something to drink?” I ask. The refrigerators should have been stocked.

“I’m actually famished. I have a craving for lamb like you got from the deli I found on Pike district.”

“Taylor?” I call.

“Agora Restaurant has a similar cuisine,” he says.

“Then order lamb skewers, yogurt sauce, hummus, stuffed grape leaves, rice, salad and bread for two.”

“Yes, sir,” Taylor responds and walks away.

“Come, let me show you our room,” I say pulling her behind me. The bedroom is in the shades of white and accented with cream color. Seeing two walls with steel framed floor to ceiling glass she opens her eyes wide and gaze into the Manhattan skyline. There’s a wraparound balcony outside. She surveys around and her eyes drift to the ornate ceiling.

“Very fancy,” she says softly.

“The apartment was built in 1933. Prewar architecture. It was remodeled consistent with its former glory but with modern amenities.”

“The walls are quite high…” she murmurs absently. What’s wrong with her?

“Yes, bedroom walls have twelve foot ceilings,” I say taking a step toward her. I stand right before her and turn her to me.

Breathe - Anna Nalick

“What’s wrong, Ana?” She shakes her head.

“Ana! Please! You were fine during the flight, and even during the ride here. And as soon as we got to the apartment, you don’t look well. What. Is. Wrong? Before I assume the worst? Please, I’m going crazy!”

“Oh, Christian. I’m feeling so insignificant! All this,” she says gesturing around, “all this opulence. And you, this magnificent man! Hearing about others hitting on you, women who actually belong to this sort of life… I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed.”

“There are many reasons why I love you Ana, but one of them is this… that you are completely unaware of your own worth or that you don’t care what I have and you don’t love me for my wealth which is all the more reason for me to want to spread the world beneath your feet. All these other people, women,” and occasional men, but no need to mention that to her, “who salivate behind me, do so because of this package. It’s about what I have and how I look. What do they know about me? Nothing! They like the persona, they like a good fuck, they like to be seen with a billionaire and show up in the gossip magazines. But, you…” I say softly lifting her chin up to meet my gaze, a smile tugs at the corners of my lips, “you are unlike anyone. You’re my reason for being, for existing. You are the love of my life! The minute you entered into my life, you dimmed every star, because you’re my sun! I’m blinded to all that is around me. You first spun my life out of its orderly orbit then pulled it back into yours. I never wish to be without you again. You’re my life now.

What you see here… all this is yours. I’d give you this and more, Ana.”

She gives out a heavy sigh. “All I want is you.”

All I want is you - U2

“I know, but I come with this package,” I say shrugging.

“Thank you for your love Christian. I love you so much, sometimes, I feel like I’m going to wake up from this dream and you’ll be gone.”

“That’s not gonna happen baby,” I grin. “I can prove that to you right now if you so desire.”

“Well, you can demonstrate your love in the shower, Mr. Grey,” she says biting her lower lip. 

"With pleasure, Mrs. Grey!" I say as I slowly peel off her coat and her scarf. 

"In fact," I say and lift her off the floor cradling her in my arms, I walk into the master bathroom. I turn the water on hot and walk under the cascading waters with my wife in my arms.

***** ❦  ♡  ❧ *****

Hannah

“Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod! I’m gonna miss my plane!” Hannah cries out to no one in particular as she runs as fast as her Manola Blahnik clad feet could carry her through the newly waxed airport terminal. She is making a mental inventory as she is rushing through. Her Hermes purse contains her personal items, her smart phone, tickets, wallet, ID, as well as the manuscripts Ana forgot. She could of course just look at them on the laptop but she felt the needed to print them because she needed to mark and highlight them for Ana, and they needed those for this symposium. It’s important for her to get Ana’s approval. She, after all is married to the Boss’s boss’s boss’ boss. An opportunity like that comes only once in a lifetime. 

Hannah reminds herself to go over the manuscripts twice on the plane and summarize them for Ana. Oh wait! Did she remember to pack the thumb drive? It would be a monumental fuck-up if she forgot that! That was the reason she is now taking a commercial flight as opposed to flying in the Grey Enterprises Inc. jet along with Ana's panty-dropping type of good looking husband. She has her personal items in her a carry-on, her laptop bag complete with the charger, mouse and the thumb drive and of course her coat is hanging from her arm among many items she is carrying with her. But she is having second thoughts on having worn a pencil skirt and silk blouse. Very business-like, but not airport worthy when you are flying cross country. Just as she nears the airline counter she collides with another passenger who is just as much in a hurry as she is.

“Shit! Fuck! Sorry! I’m soooo going to miss my plane!” she complains and goes down the floor on her knees and to collect her scattered items.

“I’ll help,” says the stranger’s voice. That's the least you can do for colliding with me, she thinks but what comes out of her mouth is, “I got it!”

“No, you haven’t," says a husky voice. "If you’re going to be on that plane to in such a short time, I'll have to help you. Let me make amends for my carelessness. Have you even checked in?"

“I checked in online!” she retorts but getting a good look at him, her eyes widens and she softens.

“Suit yourself. But they aren’t gonna let you take all these items on the plane,” he says collecting a lip gloss carelessly rolled on the floor and tosses it into her Hermes bag. He then quickly collects a few other items still spread around the floor.

“Ohmigod! Ohmigod! I think my phone broke!” Hannah laments, now completely anxious.

“It’s okay. I think just the case came undone.”

“Oh no! The battery is gone!”

“It’s right there,” he says pointing a few steps to her right, and  she reaches to get it, just a tad bit relieved. It would be the biggest, most horrible kind of fuck-up if she damaged her phone! He quickly places the little chip under the SIM card while she's retrieving the battery. She extends her hand for the phone and he hands her the smart phone, the backing as well as the cracked the plastic case. Her hands shake.

“Please, let me,” he says and gently takes it away from her. He swiftly places the battery on the back of the phone, secures the cover then clicks the case in place. He finally presses the power button. The screen flickers to life. He imperceptibly exhales a sigh of relief, and hands it to her.

“Good as new!”

“Thank you! I better hurry!” She says halfheartedly, slings the Hermes purse, the laptop bag, and drags her carry-on.

“Your coat?” he says smiling under his Seattle Seahawks cap, extending her stylish coat to her.

“Oh, yes! Thanks! On the second thought, I better check this in!” she says and quickly head for the bagged check-in.

***** ❦  ♡  ❧ *****

The flight attendant is about the close the door.

"Wait! Wait! I need to get on that flight!" she calls out desperately.

“You’re the last person to make it to the flight, ma'am. We were getting ready to close the doors.”

Hannah hands her boarding pass and the flight attendant wishes her a safe flight and sends her on her way. With the top speed Hannah rushes down the gate and makes it into the airplane. She’s flying business class today. She locates her seat right away, and places her coat on her seat. Then she places her laptop bag into the overhead bin. She will get it down once she’s marked everything on the paper. Then she exhales a well-deserved a sigh of relief.

After removing her coat from the seat, she sits and buckles her seat-belt draping her coat over her legs. Then she gives a cursory glance to her surroundings and her fellow passengers. Her eyes widen when she sees the young man who helped her earlier in the seat across the aisle.

“You!” she says.

“Well, I’ve been called worse names than that, but I prefer to go by John.”

“I’m sorry, I apologize,” she shakes her head. “I’m Hannah. You’re a lifesaver. I didn’t get a chance to properly thank you other than just muttering. I’m usually not that uncoordinated or rude.”

“This must be an off day then.”

“You can say that. I had too much to do and a short time to do it.”

“Glad you made it on time. It’d be unfortunate to be deprived of your beautiful company during this flight." Hannah blushes with the unexpected compliment. She looks at John and realizes that he’s a ruggedly handsome man, with green eyes, slightly overlong hair. There’s something hard in him though, just like the muscles he’s hiding under his t-shirt.

After the usual spiel of how to buckle and unbuckle your belt or how to save yourself or your fellow passenger in the unlikely event of a plane crash…blah blah blah… Hannah isn't listening. She wants to look at the man sitting in the next aisle without appearing like a man-hungry dork, of course.

The plane taxies and takes off. Hannah finally takes out one of the manuscripts and starts highlighting and annotating the parts of it. Just as soon as the flight attendant gives a green light, the passenger who calls himself John opens his iPad. He then searches for the icon that looks like a chess piece and locates the exact device he is seeking. He double clicks it, and activates it. CIA couldn’t pay him enough for the skills he possesses. He is going to make a shitload of money after this job is complete. The horse is delivered. Now onto the next step. He closes the icon, and opens up his Kindle app. He can afford to relax a little now with a very imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lip. He hasn’t been to New York since he took this contract. He missed the frenetic energy of it. What did George Carlin say about New York?

“Of course, in Los Angeles, everything is based on driving, even the killings. In New York, most people don’t have cars, so if you want to kill a person, you have to take the subway to their house. And sometimes on the way, the train is delayed and you get impatient, so you have to kill someone on the subway. That’s why there are so many subway murders; no one has a car.”

He thought those were the idiotic murderers. There is an art even to killing. Even though he found it distasteful learning about his prey, his current client seemed to get off and draw some sadistic pleasure in getting to know his victims, he didn't care. Whatever floated his psycho boat as long as he paid him on time and regularly. That sick bastard got a lot of satisfaction in studying and stalking his prey…through him of course. The client liked to learn their habits, their natural habitat, almost to fuel his despise of them to have more reason to make his crime personal and he wanted to watch life snuffed out of them. John, however didn’t like that sort of personal shit. He didn’t like to know who his victims are, what they like, where they dine, or even their names. Just an image. Then it was only business, impersonal, just a notch on your very accomplished belt. But, he’s seen sicker shit, has done his own kind of sadistic crap in his mercenary days. He didn’t care one way or the other. It wasn’t personal for him after all. Just business. Juuuust business, and leans back in his seat reading his favorite author: Stephen King. When the flight attendant comes by to take his drink order, he replies:

“Grey Goose. Make it a double,” and without looking back to her he goes back to his story, “Survivor Type”. He has a few hours to kill after all.