I stretch out beside him, relishing his touch, and feel his erection against my behind. Oh my. A Christian Grey wake-up call.
Oh, yippee skippy! A wake-up call from Christian Grey’s cherished and most beloved body part! It doesn’t get better than this, ladies!
“I can’t wait until Saturday,” he says, his eyes glowing with salacious delight.
“Your party?” I pant.
“No. I can stop using these fuckers.”
“Aptly named.” I giggle.
So the new slang word for condoms: fuckers. Because they serve the purpose of helping people to fuck.
“Can we have the radio on?” I ask as we wait at the first stop sign.
“I want you to concentrate,” he says sharply.
“Christian, please, I can drive with music on.” I roll my eyes. He scowls for a moment and then reaches for the radio.
So now, he’s telling her how to drive, too, and no doubt trying to keep her from driving. Let’s see: Picking out a car for you, not wanting you to go to work, trying to control who you can see and when you can see them, giving you a cell phone so he can constantly keep in contact with you while using the GPS to figure out where you are. Signs of an abusive relationship? I think so!
“His rather hasty departure has left a vacancy, and we’d like you to fill it for now, until we find a replacement.”
What? I feel the blood rush from my head. Me?
“But, I’ve only been here for a week or so.”
“Yes, Anastasia, I understand but Jack was always a champion of your abilities. He had high hopes for you.”
I stop breathing. He had high hopes of getting me on my back, sure.
Wow, Ana! Did it ever occur to you that maybe you were asked to fill the spot because your bosses see potential in you? Oh, wait! That can’t be it because Ana sucks at everything!
“I’m supposed to be having lunch with Christian and Elliot’s sister—but I can’t get hold of her, and this meeting’s just been sprung on me. Please will you take her for lunch? Please?”
“Aw, Ana! I don’t want to babysit some brat.”
“Please, Ethan.” I give him the biggest-bluest-longest-eye-lashed look that I can manage. He rolls his eyes and I know I’ve got him.
This is Christian we’re dealing with. My snarky subconscious is back, hatchet-mouthed, cardigan and purse in the crook of her arm.
Oh, I wondered where her subconscious was! Welcome back!
This isn’t what I expected. I had in my mind’s eye a stark white room with a black leather chaise longue; my inner goddess might have felt more at home then.
OK, so she’s taking her inner goddess and her subconscious to a counseling appointment. Now we’re getting somewhere with this plot!
“Emotionally, Christian is an adolescent, Ana. He bypassed that phase in his life totally. He’s channeled all his energies into succeeding in the business world, and he has beyond all expectations. His emotional world has to play catch-up.”
So Ana is supposed to act as a mother figure, too? Nice!
Whoa. I’ve never heard him sing, not even in the shower, ever. I frown. He has a lovely voice—of course. Hmm . . . has he heard me sing?
He wouldn’t be asking you to marry him if he had! My subconscious has her arms crossed and is wearing Burberry check . . . jeez. The song finishes and Christian smirks.
I don’t want to argue. Anyway he’s right—what the hell do I know about all his shit? Do I even want to know? I can list the salient points—his control freakery, his possessiveness, his jealousy, his overprotectiveness—and I completely understand where he’s coming from. I can even understand why he doesn’t like to be touched—I’ve seen the physical scars. I can only imagine the mental ones, and I’ve only glimpsed his nightmares once.
Who else here thinks that Ana has lost all touch with reality? Can we get a show of hands, please?
And that’s it for today!