fifty shades darker (37 page)

Jeez, what’s wrong with her? Is it my presence? Do I have that effect on her? Because I feel the same way—I don’t want her here. She raises her head and looks Christian squarely in the eye.

“I’m being blackmailed.”

Holy shit.
Not what I expected out of her mouth. Christian stiffens. Has someone found out about her penchant for beating and fucking underage boys? I suppress my revulsion, and a fleeting thought about chickens coming home to roost crosses my mind. My subconscious rubs her hands together with ill-disguised glee.
Good.

“How?” Christian asks, his horror clear in his voice.

She reaches into her oversized, patent-leather, designer purse, pulls out a note, and hands it to him.

“Put it down, lay it out.” Christian points to the breakfast bar counter with his chin.

“You don’t want to touch it?’

“No. Fingerprints.”

“Christian, you know I can’t go to the police with this.”

Why am I listening to this? Is she fucking some other poor boy?

She lays the note out for him, and he bends to read it.

“They’re only asking for five thousand dollars,” he says almost absentmindedly. “Any idea who it might be? Someone in the community?”

“No,” she says in her soft sweet voice.

“Linc?”

Linc? Who’s that?

“What—after all this time? I don’t think so,” she grumbles.

“Does Isaac know?”

“I haven’t told him.”

Who’s Isaac?

“I think he needs to know,” Christian says. She shakes her head, and now I feel I’m intruding. I want none of this. I try to retrieve my hand from Christian’s grasp, but he just tightens his hold and turns to gaze at me.

“What?” he asks.

“I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed.”

His eyes search mine, looking for what? Censure? Acceptance? Hostility? I keep my expression as bland as possible.

“Okay,” he says. “I won’t be long.”

He releases me and I stand. Elena watches me warily. I stay tightlipped and return her gaze, giving nothing away.

“Goodnight, Anastasia.” She gives me a small smile.

“Goodnight,” I mutter, my voice sounds cold. I turn to leave. The tension is too much for me to bear. As I exit the room they continue their conversation.

“I don’t think there’s a great deal I can do, Elena,” Christian says to her. “If it’s a question of money.” His voice trails off. “I could ask Welch to investigate.”

“No, Christian, I just wanted to share,” she says.

When I am out of the room, I hear her say, “You look very happy.”

“I am,” Christian responds.

“You deserve to be.”

“I wish that were true.”

“Christian,” she scolds.

I freeze, listening intently. I can’t help it.

“Does she know how negative you are about yourself? About all your issues.”

“She knows me better than anyone.”

“Ouch! That hurts.”

“It’s the truth, Elena. I don’t have to play games with her. And I mean it, leave her alone.”

“What is her problem?”

“You . . . What we were. What we did. She doesn’t understand.”

“Make her understand.”

“It’s in the past, Elena, and why would I want to taint her with our fucked-up relationship? She’s good and sweet and innocent, and by some miracle she loves me.”

“It’s no miracle, Christian,” Elena scoffs good-naturedly. “Have a little faith in yourself. You really are quite a catch. I’ve told you often enough. And she seems lovely, too.

Strong. Someone to stand up to you.”

I can’t hear Christian’s response. So I’m strong, am I? I certainly don’t feel that way.

“Don’t you miss it?” Elena continues.

“What?”

“Your playroom.”

I stop breathing.

“That really is none of your fucking business,” Christian snaps.

Oh.

“I’m sorry.” Elena snorts insincerely.

“I think you’d better go. And please, call before you come again.”

“Christian, I am sorry,” she says, and from her tone, this time she means it. “Since when are you so sensitive?” She’s scolding him again.

“Elena, we have a business relationship which has profited us both immensely. Let’s keep it that way. What was between us is part of the past. Anastasia is my future, and I won’t jeopardize it in any way, so cut the fucking crap.”

His future!

“I see.”

“Look, I’m sorry for your trouble. Perhaps you should ride it out and call their bluff.”

His tone is softer.

“I don’t want to lose you, Christian.”

“I’m not yours to lose, Elena,” he snaps again.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” He’s brusque, angry.

“Look, I don’t want to argue with you. Your friendship means a lot to me. I’ll back off from Anastasia. But I’m here if you need me. I always will be.”

“Anastasia thinks that you saw me last Saturday. You called, that’s all. Why did you tell her otherwise?”

“I wanted her to know how upset you were when she left. I don’t want her to hurt you.”

“She knows. I’ve told her. Stop interfering. Honestly, you’re like a mother hen.” Christian sounds more resigned, and Elena laughs, but there’s a sad tone to her laugh.

“I know. I’m sorry. You know I care about you. I never thought you’d end up falling in love, Christian. It’s very gratifying to see. But I couldn’t bear it if she hurt you.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he says dryly. “Now are you sure you don’t want Welch to sniff around?”

She sighs heavily. “I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm.”

“Okay. I’ll call him in the morning.”

I listen to them bickering, trying to figure this out. They do sound like old friends, as Christian says. Just friends. And she cares about him—maybe too much. Well, who wouldn’t, if they knew him?

“Thank you, Christian. And I am sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll go. Next time I’ll call.”“Good.”

She’s going! Shit!
I scamper up the hallway to Christian’s bedroom and sit down on the bed. Christian enters a few moments later.

“She’s gone,” he says warily, gauging my reaction.

I gaze up at him, trying to frame my question. “Will you tell me all about her? I am trying to understand why you think she helped you.” I pause, thinking carefully about my next sentence. “I loathe her, Christian. I think she did you untold damage. You have no friends.

Did she keep them away from you?”

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

“Why the fuck do you want to know about her? We had a very long-standing affair, she beat the shit out of me often, and I fucked her in all sorts of ways you can’t even imagine, end of story.”

I pale. Shit, he’s angry—with me. I blink at him. “Why are you so angry?”

“Because all of that shit is over!” he shouts, glowering at me. He sighs in exasperation and shakes his head.

I blanch.
Shit.
I look down at my hands, knotted in my lap. I just want to understand.

He sits down beside me. “What do you want to know?” he asks wearily.

“You don’t have to tell me. I don’t mean to intrude.”

“Anastasia, it’s not that. I don’t like talking about this shit. I’ve lived in a bubble for years with nothing affecting me and not having to justify myself to anyone. She’s always been there as a confidante. And now my past and my future are colliding in a way I never thought possible.”

I glance at him and he’s staring at me, his eyes wide.

“I never thought I had a future with anyone, Anastasia. You give me hope and have me thinking about all sorts of possibilities.” He drifts off.

“I was listening,” I whisper and stare back down at my hands.

“What? To our conversation?”

“Yes.”

“Well?” He sounds resigned.

“She cares for you.”

“Yes, she does. And I for her in my own way, but it doesn’t come close to how I feel about you. If that’s what this is about.”

“I’m not jealous.” I’m wounded that he would think that—or am I? Shit. Maybe that’s what this is. “You don’t love her,” I murmur.

He sighs again. He really is pissed. “A long time ago, I thought I loved her,” he says through gritted teeth.

Oh.
“When we were in Georgia . . . you said you didn’t love her.”

“That’s right.”

I frown.

“I loved you then, Anastasia,” he whispers. “You’re the only person I’d fly three thousand miles to see.”

Oh my.
I don’t understand. He still wanted me as a sub then. My frown deepens.

“The feelings I have for you are very different from any I ever had for Elena,” he says by way of explanation.

“When did you know?”

He shrugs. “Ironically, it was Elena who pointed it out to me. She encouraged me to go to Georgia.”

I knew it!
I knew it in Savannah. I gaze at him, blankly.

What do I make of this? Maybe she is on my side and just worried that I’ll hurt him.

The thought is painful. I would never want to hurt him. She’s right—he’s been hurt enough.

Perhaps she’s not so bad. I shake my head. I don’t want to accept his relationship with her. I disapprove. Yes, that’s what this is. She’s an unsavory character who preyed on a vulnerable adolescent, robbing him of his teenage years, no matter what he says.

“So you desired her? When you were younger.”

“Yes.”

Oh.

“She taught me a great deal. She taught me to believe in myself.”

Oh.
“But she also beat the shit out of you.”

He smiles fondly. “Yes, she did.”

“And you liked that?”

“At the time I did.”

“So much that you wanted to do it to others?”

His eyes grow wide and serious. “Yes.”

“Did she help you with that?”

“Yes.”

“Did she sub for you?”

“Yes.”

Holy fuck.
“Do you expect me to like her?” My voice sounds brittle and bitter.

“No. Though it would make my life a hell of a lot easier,” he says wearily. “I do understand your reticence.”

“Reticence! Jeez, Christian—if that were your son, how would you feel?”

He blinks at me as though he doesn’t comprehend the question. He frowns. “I didn’t have to stay with her. It was my choice, too, Anastasia,” he murmurs.

This is getting me nowhere.

“Who’s Linc?”

“Her ex-husband.”

“Lincoln Timber?”

“The very same,” he smirks.

“And Isaac?”

“Her current submissive.”

Oh no.

“He’s in his mid-twenties, Anastasia. You know—a consenting adult,” he adds quickly, correctly deciphering my look of disgust.

I flush. “Your age,” I mutter.

“Look, Anastasia, as I said to her, she’s part of my past. You are my future. Don’t let her come between us, please. And quite frankly, I’m really bored of this subject. I’m going to do some work.” He stands and gazes down at me. “Let it go. Please.”

I stare mulishly up at him.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he adds. “Your car arrived a day early. It’s in the garage. Taylor has the key.”

Whoa . . . the Saab? “Can I drive it tomorrow?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You know why not. And that reminds me. If you are going to leave your office, let me know. Sawyer was there, watching you. It seems I can’t trust you to look after yourself at all.” He scowls down at me, making me feel like an errant child—again. And I would argue with him, but he’s pretty worked up over Elena, and I don’t want to push him any further, but I can’t resist one comment.

“Seems I can’t trust you either,” I mutter. “You could have told me Sawyer was watching me.”

“Do you want to fight about that, too?” he snaps.

“I wasn’t aware we were fighting. I thought we were communicating,” I mumble petulantly.

He closes his eyes briefly as he struggles to contain his temper. I swallow and watch anxiously. Jeez, this could go either way.

“I have to work,” he says quietly, and with that, he leaves the room.

I exhale. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath. I flop back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Can we ever have a normal conversation without it disintegrating into an argument?

It’s exhausting.

We just don’t know each other that well. Do I really want to move in with him? I don’t even know if I should make him a cup of tea or coffee while he’s working. Should I disturb him at all? I have no idea of his likes and dislikes.

Evidently he’s bored with the whole Elena thing—he’s right, I need to move on. Let it go. Well, at least he’s not expecting me to be friends with her, and I hope that she’ll now stop hassling me for a meeting.

I get off the bed and wander to the window. Unlocking the balcony door, I open it and stroll over to the glass railing. Its transparency is unnerving. The air’s chilly and fresh, as I’m up so high.

I gaze out over the twinkling lights of Seattle. He’s so far removed from everything up here in his fortress. Answerable to no one.
He’d just told me he loves me, then all this
crap comes up because of that dreadful woman.
I roll my eyes. His life is so complicated.

He’s so complicated.

With a heavy sigh and a last glance at Seattle spread like cloths of gold at my feet, I decide to call Ray. I haven’t spoken to him for a while. It’s a brief conversation as per usual, but I ascertain he’s fine and that I’m interrupting an important soccer match.

“Hope all is well with Christian,” he says casually, and I know he’s fishing for information but doesn’t really want to know.

“Yeah. We’re cool.” Sort of, and I’m moving in with him. Though we haven’t discussed a timetable.

“Love you, Dad.”

“Love you, too, Annie.”

I hang up and check my watch. It’s only ten. Because of our discussion, I am feeling strangely innervated and restless.

I shower quickly, and back in the bedroom, decide to wear one of the nightdresses that Caroline Acton procured for me from Neiman Marcus. Christian’s always moaning about my T-shirts. There are three. I choose the pale pink and put it on over my head. The fabric skims across my skin, caressing and clinging to me as it falls around my body. It feels luxurious—the finest, thinnest satin.
Holy crap.
In the mirror, I look like a 1930s movie star. It’s long, elegant—and very un-me.