Goodbye, Christian, " I murmur. "Ana, goodbye, " he says softly, and he looks utterly, utterly broken, a man in agonizing pain, reflecting how I feel inside. I tear my gaze away from him before I can change my mind and try to comfort him. The elevator doors close close and it whisks me down to the bowels of the basement and to my own personal hell.
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And so a pattern develops: wake, work cry. sleep. I can't even escape him in my dreams. Gray burning eyes, his lost look, his hair burnished and bright and bright all haunt me. And the music... so much music-I cannot bear to hear any music. I am careful to avoid it at all costs. Even the jingles in commercials make me shudder.
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Mi guardo allo specchio: un fantasma stravolto. Mi lego i capelli e ignoro le borse che mi sono venute sotto gli occhi a forza di piangere. Non riesco a credere che il mondo mi stia crollando addosso, che tutte le mie speranze e i miei sogni vadano in pezzi. No, no, non pensarci. Non adesso, non ancora.
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Suddenly, as one, all the Greys stop talking and gape at Christian. What? Christian is singing softly to himself at the piano. Silence descends on us all as we strain to hear his soft, lyrical voice. I've heard him sing before, haven't they? He stops, suddenly conscious of the deathly hush that's fallen over the room. Kate glances questioningly at me and I shrug. Christian turns on the stool and frowns, embarrassed to realize he's become the center of attention. 'Go on, ' Grace urges softly. 'I've never heard you sing, Christian. Ever.
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Good evening, Mrs. Grey, " Christian says softly. He's standing by the piano, dressed in a tight black T-shirt, and jeans... those jeans- the ones he wore in the playroom. Oh my. They are over washed pale-blue denim, snug, ripped at the knee and hot. He saunters over to me, his feet bare, the top button of the jeans undone, his smoldering eyes never leaving mine. "Good to have you home. I've been waiting for you.
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I would have told you earlier, but as it was your birthday... What do you give the man who has everything? I thought I'd give you... me.' He puts the keychain down on the bedside table and snuggles in beside me, pulling me into his arms against his chest so that we're spooning. 'It's perfect. Like you.
I don't want anything to happen to you. You being hurt... that thought fills me with dread. I can't promise not to interfere, not if I think you'll come to harm." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "I love you, Anastasia. I will do everything in my power to protect you. I cann't imagine my life without you.
Abruptly, Elliot startles us all by standing and pulling his chair back so it scrapes across the tile floor. All eyes turn to him. He gazes down at Kate for one moment and then drops to one knee beside her. Oh. My. God. He reaches for her hand, and silence settles like a blanket over the entire restaurant as everyone stops eating, stops talking, stops walking, and stares. "My beautiful Kate, I love you. Your grace, your beauty, and your fiery spirit have no equal, and you have captured my heart. Spend your life with me. Marry me." Holy shit!
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So you'll get your kicks by exerting your will over me.' 'It's about gaining your trust and your respect, so you'll let me exert my will over you. I will gain a great deal of pleasure, joy, even in your submission. The more you submit, the greater my joy - it's a very simple equation.' 'Okay, and what do I get out of this?' He shrugs and looks almost apologetic. 'Me, ' he says simply.
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I was Mrs. Taylor yesterday.' I grin at Taylor, who flushes. 'That has a nice ring to it, Miss Steele, ' Taylor says matter-of-factly. 'I thought so, too.' Christian tightens his hold on my hand, scowling. 'If you two have quite finished, I'd like a debrief.' He glares at Taylor, who now looks uncomfortable, and I cringe inwardly. I have overstepped the mark. 'Sorry, ' I mouth at Taylor, who shrugs and smiles kindly before I turn to follow Christian. 'I'll be with you shortly. I just want a word with Miss Steele, ' Christian says to Taylor, and I know I'm in trouble. Christian leads me into his bedroom and closes the door. 'Don't flirt with the staff, Anastasia, ' he scolds. I open my mouth to defend myself-then close it again, then open it. 'I wasn't flirting. I was being friendly-there is a difference.' 'Don't be friendly with the staff or flirt with them. I don't like it.' Oh. Good-bye, carefree Christian. 'I'm sorry, ' I mutter and stare down at my fingers. He hasn't made me feel like a child all day. Reaching down he cups my chin, pulling my head up to meet his eyes. 'You know how jealous I am, ' he whispers. 'You have no reason to be jealous, Christian. You own me body and soul.
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Your stepfather? I'd like to meet him." Oh no... why? "I'm not sure that's a good idea." Christian unlocks the door, his mouth in a grim line. "Are you ashamed of me?" "No!" It's my turn to sound exasperated. "Introduce you to my dad as what? 'This is the man who deflowered me and wants to start a BDSM relationship'. You're not wearing running shoes.
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From: Anastasia Steele Subject: Moaning Date: May 31 2011 19:39 EST To: Christian Grey Gotta go. Laters, baby... From: Christian Grey Subject: Plagiarism Date: May 31 2011 16:41 To: Anastasia Steele You stole my line. And left me hanging. Enjoy your dinner. Christian Grey CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
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He's pressing me to his chest. I melt. Oh, this is where I want to be I rest my head against him, and he kisses my hair repeatedly. This is home. He smells of linen, fabric softener, body wash, and my favourite smell - Christian. For a moment, I allow myself the illusion that all will be well, and it soothes my ravaged soul