To Hell and Back (Part II)

“Taylor!”
“Yes, sir,” he responds.
“Uhm. I need your help with something. Meet me in my study in thirty minutes,” I say. This’ll give me enough time to shower and get dressed.
“Of course, sir.”
In less than thirty minutes, I shower, dress up in my white linen shirt and black jeans. I take a bottle of water and walk to my study. Taylor appears immediately and follows me closing the door behind him, turns to look at me expectantly.
I take a deep breath, and open my mouth. Then close it again. I open it once more.
“Taylor, which florist is the best one in Seattle?” Taylor’s eyes widen, this is the most shocked I’ve seen him.
“Florist, sir?”
“Yes, florist. I want to send roses to Miss Steele for tomorrow to congratulate her on her first day at work.”
“I can do that for you sir,” he responds.

“I know you can, Taylor,” I say exasperated. “But, I want to know how to do it, so I can do it for her,” I say. He tries to hide a smile, but is unsuccessful, finally reigning in her facial expressions, he dons his impassive look.
We surf the web for thirty minutes and we narrow down to three different florists. I call my assistant Andrea along the way, and she too suggests that she can send it flowers for me to its destination. I have to reprimand her too. “Just tell me who the best florist is, Andrea!” scolding her and then I read the names of the three shops Taylor and I picked. She tells me the name of the best one, and I hang up.
“Okay. We know who the best florist is. Now the meanings of roses.”
“Meanings sir?” asks Taylor puzzled.
“Man! You’ve been married before! Haven’t you ever sent roses to your wife with some special meaning attached?”
“Oh!” Taylor says finally the penny dropping. “I’m not sure, but Mrs. Jones might be more knowledgeable on that since women are more focused on meanings of things. I can get her if you like,” he says.
“Ok, get Mrs. Jones.”
A few minutes later, Taylor and Mrs. Jones walks back in. He must have explained to her, and she has a small sparkle in her eyes, but her demeanor is ever professional.
“What sort of meaning are you intending to convey sir?” she asks.
I take a deep breath. “New beginnings, innocence, reverence, honor, purity. Is there a flower that says all of those, or do I have to get a whole bunch of them to mean it that way?” I ask.
Mrs. Jones actually smiles this time.
“There is only one kind of flower that says all of that,” she says, and my eyes brighten for the first time since yesterday.
“Which one?” I ask a little more enthusiastically.
“White roses. Long stem white roses would be best. They also mean ‘young love’ sir,” she says, and though I frown, I can’t keep a smile off my face.
“Thank you Mrs. Jones,” I say dismissing her.
“Anytime, sir,” she says and walks out.
I turn to Taylor. “Okay, how do we do this?”

“Do what sir?”
“I want to place the order for her!” I say frustrated.
“Oh yes, we call the florist, tell them we have a future delivery for tomorrow, unless you want it delivered to her work of course,” he says, and I cut him off.
“No, I want it delivered to her house,” I say.
“Then, we have to make sure that they deliver it to her house at a particular time. They’ll walk you through it sir, and then we pay them through credit card.”
“Easy enough, I can do that,” I say. “Thank you, Taylor,” I say dismissing him. He nods, and I don’t miss the grin as he turns away to walk out.
I call the florist, and place an order for two dozens of long stem roses to be delivered tomorrow after 5:30 p.m. I tell them to check every half hour if she’s not home until the delivery is accomplished. Then I have to convince the woman on the other line that I’m actually Christian Grey because she doubts the name on my credit card. She says “they have assistants to do that for them!” When we finally square that problem away, that I am in fact, the Christian Grey! I make sales clerk type a note in for her. Not too personal, but not too detached either. Just to let her know that she’s in my mind.

Congratulations on your first day at work.
I hope it went well.
And thank you for the glider. That was very thoughtful.
It has pride of place on my desk.
Christian

I hope she responds. I hope she understands. I hope she still loves me. I hope she forgives. I hope... Wasn’t it in a movie someplace it was said that ‘Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things. And no good thing ever dies.’ So, I just hope.
Next, I call Ros.
“Ros, you have priorities tomorrow,” I start as soon as she answers the phone.

“Yes, sir. What are they?”
“We’re taking over SIP!”
“Uhm.. what? What is SIP?”
“It’s a publishing company.”

“Is it for sale?”
“No. It’s not.”
“Is it struggling financially? Would it be a good buy?”
“Not a clue.”
“Ok, Mr. Grey... Christian, it sounds like we started in the middle of a conversation that you must have started sometime, and I caught up only in the middle. Why are we buying this company exactly?”
“Ros! There is a reason why my company, is NOT a public company. Because, I like to have my own way. I want this company because it’s getting stagnant. It could be beneficial later for us. It needs to branch out, and so do we. You will get it for me, even if we have to do a hostile takeover! Then I want all the employee files in upper management, new hires, and everything in-between. It will better be done on Monday. I want everything ready. Offer them a friendly takeover on Monday. If not, I want all of the stocks to be purchased Tuesday. I want this to be over with this week! Do I make myself clear?” I say through gritted teeth. Boss Christian is back with a vengeance.
“Perfectly sir. I’ll have the papers drawn up today.”
“Whatever it takes, do it!” I bark, and hang up.
I will do anything to protect what is mine. Anastasia is mine! Baby, you haven’t seen me fight for you yet! It’ll be spectacular! Because I don’t give up... not when I know you love me, and I love you.

MONDAY
My post-breakup but pre-fight day 2 rolls in with full swing. Ros calls me late afternoon.

“Mr. Grey, we’ve presented the offer to the SIP. Although we’ve offered them more than what their stocks are worth, the company was reluctant to sell. I’m moving into Phase Two.”
“If they don’t agree, let them know that I will buy. every. single. stock available and unavailable. Every. Single. One. Do you get me Ros? I want it all! Not one public stock!” I say enunciating.
“Yes, sir!” she says and hangs up. A small company like SIP will not stand in my way to protect Anastasia. Yesterday I asked the florist to have Anastasia sign for her flowers, and only her, then have the confirmation sent to me the same day. I'm waiting for its arrival like a shipment of gold!
Taylor is ready to take me home after work.
“No Taylor, take me to the Apple store.”
“What kind of apples sir?” he asks confused.
“Not ‘an’ apple, Taylor. The Apple store, as in Macs, iPod, iPad.” I see Taylor going crimson for misunderstanding.
“Of course, sir,” he says.
I want my apology to Anastasia to be sincere, and personal to the highest extent. After shopping for two hours, I purchase two iPads, the newest available; one for Anastasia, and one for me. I’m not always good with words. Sometimes I say things, and put my enormous foot in my mouth which of course would require me to wash it down with a gallon of water! But music had always been a way to express my sorrow, perhaps it can also express my love, and I intend to do that for her with this personal apology.
When we get home, Mrs. Jones informs me that a courier delivered an envelope. I open it as if it’s the most precious cargo. It contains Anastasia’s signature for the flower delivery. I hold it to my chest, clutching it like a lifeline as I walk to my study while the fucking tears force their way to my eyes threatening to fall, and I grit my teeth, put my impassive face on, and make myself scarce from the view of my employees.

*****

I’ve been sleeping with Anastasia’ laptop, Blackberry and now her iPad in my company as I will deliver them back to her soon as I give her a couple more days, if I don’t die in the process that is. Life is fucking hell, and I miss her terribly!
My days have been torturous since Anastasia left. I can’t think anything besides her. I can’t focus. Every place I turn, I see her face. I’m in perpetual night, a horrible place to be, as if she left with my inner light. I can see nothing! I have no pleasure in life, and the gaping hole in me is only growing! I have no sleep, and if I do sleep I wake up after I’m tortured with my nightmares.
I have taken my glider to my work, and it is secured in a nice casing. I took a picture of it yesterday so I can make it a part of my apology to Anastasia. I put that image as the opening background on the iPad, and compiled a selection of songs that reminded me of us. What a simple word that is, “us”, yet with so much force in it. I put the picture that appeared in Seattle Times during her graduation as the main background after she slides the lock open. The playlist I’ve complied should remind her everything we’ve done together.
There’s Thomas Tallis, where I flogged and fucked her with her choice of brown plaited riding crop.
The Witchcraft. We danced around the great room to that song, and I have already fallen for her, just was too stupid to realize.
Bach’s Marcello piece. She’s heard me play that several times.
Jeff Buckley: Lover, You Should’ve Come Over: The lyrics, just speak for me. I hope she listens. I hope she forgives me.
Looking out the door I see the rain fall upon the funeral mourners
Parading in a wake of sad relations as their shoes fill up with water
And maybe I’m too young to keep good love from going wrong
But tonight you're on my mind so you never know
Broken down and hungry for your love but no way to feed it
Where are you tonight, child you know how much i need it
Too young to hold on and too old to just break free and run
Sometimes a man gets carried away, when he feels like he should be having his fun
And much too blind to see the damage he's done
Sometimes a man must awake to find that really, he has no-one
So I'll wait for you..... and I'll burn Will i ever see your sweet return
Oh will I ever learn
Oh lover, you should've come over 'cause it's not too late
Lonely is the room, the bed is made, the open window lets the rain in
Burning in the corner is the only one who dreams he had you with him.
My body turns and yearns for a sleep that won't ever come
It's never over, my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder
It's never over, all my riches for her smiles when i slept so soft against her
It's never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter
It's never over, she's the tear that hangs inside my song forever
Well maybe I'm just too young
To keep good love from going wrong
Oh.... lover, you should've come over 'cause it's not too late
Well I feel too young to hold on
And I'm much too old to break free and run
Too deaf, dumb, and blind to see the damage I've done
Sweet lover, you should've come over
Oh, love well I'm waiting for you
Lover, you should've come over
Cause it's not too late

I then select, Snow Patrol’s “Just Say Yes,” because I want her to really, truly forgive me.
But, knowing how fucked up I am, it’s also my plea to her to give me a little room to make mistakes which is why I added, Nelly Furtado’s - Try.
Enigma’s Principles of Lust also provided both of us so much pleasure. The Scientist by Coldplay, and finally to make her smile, “Possession,” by Sarah McLachlan. But the crown jewel of all, and she’ll notice it if she knows me well is Every Breath You Take, by the Police.
Knowing how much she loves the British Classics, I purchase her the British Library app so she can read them anytime she wants. There’s of course “Good Food” app, and the standard apps like the news, and the weather.
My heart constricts with fear that it may not be enough for saying “I’m sorry” in all the ways I can, but I just hope. If she hears me out, maybe she can find it in her heart to forgive me.

TUESDAY
Before I leave for work in the morning, Ros calls.
“Sir, I don’t think SIP is resistant to a friendly takeover. We have everything ready for the hostile takeover. What are your orders, sir?”

“Do it!” I say firmly. “I want it done swiftly.”
“As you wish sir. I’ll inform you of the progress later today, and if all goes as planned, we can be signing tomorrow.”
“Fine, let me know when you are done,” I say before hanging up.

******

On the way to GEH, I ask Taylor if he’s been keeping an eye on Anastasia.
“Yes, sir,” he replies.
“She went to work yesterday, and then came home after leaving on a bus,” he says, and my heart constricts anew. It’s all my fault. But I press on. “What else?”
“She hasn’t come out of her place after she went in.”
“What about the bank activity?” I ask.
“She hasn’t deposited her money sir. She still only has about a thousand Dollars,” I groan inwardly.
“Keep checking on her then,” I order.
“Yes, sir.”
Ros calls an hour after I'm at work.
“Sir, everything is done. They’re not happy, but that’s the nature of a hostile takeover. We ought to be able to sign papers today at about 2:00 p.m. Of course, we’d be imposed with a gag order for at least four weeks until everything finalizes and registers.”
Tick tock. Tick tock. The fucking clock is moving, and my heart is combusting as I count the days I’ve been separated from Anastasia. Four fucking days! I’m fidgety, angry, and nervous, and fucking love struck!
“What about the employee files I asked for? Have you sent them? And the server information?” I ask.

“Your IT guy should receive the server information within the hour, and the company doesn’t have a whole a lot of employees, so the employee files shouldn’t be too hard to get to you. Give me an hour!”
“You have 60 minutes Ros! Tick tock!”
“Yes, sir,” she says hurried, and I press the off button on my Blackberry.
When the employee files are delivered to my inbox, my hands shake. I go through the names, and come to the letter S in the list.
“Anastasia Rose Steele”
I stare at her name, and the small picture used for her employee identification. Her all too wide eyes, and an unsmiling face. Almost sad, and forlorn. “I miss you baby,” I say to the picture. I really miss you!
When I check who her boss is, I see the name, “Jack Hyde.” I immediately dislike the man.
“Let’s see who the hell you are Mr. Jack Hyde!” I mutter under my breath.
I find his file. An Ivy League graduate frat boy. 32 years old maybe. Sharp blue eyes. I dial Welch’s number.
“Welch, Grey. I need you to do a thorough background check.”
“Name?”
“Jack Hyde. Commissioning Editor at the SIP Publishing company.”
“How fast do you need it sir?”
“I needed it last Monday!” I say, indicating he should be lighting a fire under his ass.
“I’ll hop to it then sir. I’ll get back to you within the day whatever I can gather, and I’ll keep searching for more, and give you an extensive one as well. Would that work for you sir?”
“Fine. Just don’t keep me waiting!” I say before I hang up.
**** By the time I get back to Escala, it’s already 6:00 p.m. But I have already signed the takeover papers, and Anastasia Rose Steele is officially working for me, and much to my relief, now under my protection. I go to my room to change, but I hear Anastasia’s Blackberry ringing at my bedside table. I go and look at who the caller is, and he receives a snort from me. “Hello Mr. Rodriguez,” I answer the phone.
“Oh, Mr. Grey?” he says surprised after a short pause.
“Anastasia isn’t available. How can I help you?”
“Oh,” he says pausing. “I was wondering if Ana was coming to my gallery opening Thursday.”
“I don’t know,” I say without giving anything away. “I’ll let her get back to you on that. She’ll let you know.”
“Thanks man!” he says awkwardly.
“No problem.” I say hanging up.
I know that she hasn’t deposited her check, so she doesn’t have a car. I start tapping my fingers again like the four riders of the apocalypse in a nervous gesture.
“Anastasia Steele, you are mine baby!” I hope someone else hasn’t moved in on her. I walk back out of my bedroom forgetting what I was there for, and call for Taylor.
“Yes, sir?” he replies.
“What has Miss Steele done today?”
“She went to work on a bus, and got off at around 5:30 p.m. and went back home on the bus again, and hasn’t left her apartment building since.”
"Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir, I have someone on a stakeout, keeping an eye 24/7.”
“Okay, that’s all,” I reply.

******

WEDNESDAY

Frustration is paramount! I’m ready to bulldoze and punch anyone on my way, and short with everyone. The lion inside me has grown in bounds within the past few days tormenting me, and ripping my heart apart, day in and day out.
I receive my preliminary report on Anastasia’s boss. What I see is disturbing. He’s accomplished, was successful in school with a scholarship, and has a sealed record. He has been changing assistants every few months. Welch put a note saying that he’s going to look into that, because that usually means he’s either a very unhappy boss, picky, and disturbing, or he’s harassing them. Either way, it can give Anastasia problems.
Ana still hasn’t acknowledged the roses I sent her. Does she know the meaning of white roses? Maybe she doesn’t, but Mrs. Jones thinks that women know those things. Ana, is not an ordinary woman. I hope she understand what I’m trying to say.
I put myself a time limit when I can send her first e-mail about her friend’s opening. Since she already asked me to come with her, and I agreed, this would be a safe topic to write her about. My hands are shaking as I type and I have to delete what I wrote because of repeated misspelling errors.
______________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Tomorrow
To: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia

Forgive this intrusion at work. I hope that it’s going well. Did you get my flowers? I note that tomorrow is the gallery opening for your friend’s show, and I’m sure you’ve not had time to purchase a car, and it’s a long drive. I would be more than happy to take you – should you so wish.

Christian Grey CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc. ______________________________________
I hit send, while sending personal supplications “Please say ‘yes’ baby! Please say ‘yes!’"
I look at my monitor blankly. No answer yet. Will she tell me to go to hell? Not to bother her again? That she hates me? I can’t handle the suspense! Please don’t hate me, baby! Please accept it! Please come back to me!
My intercom buzzes.

“What?” I snap, and I can feel Andrea flinch on the intercom.
“Mr. Welch is here sir,” she says.
“Send him in,” I respond flat.
He walks in, and gives me the spiel on Hyde. He’s had so many assistants. And none stuck, or remained in the company, or promoted for another position. Welch went to interview couple of them, and they had nothing but praises for their former boss.
“So, he’s a good guy? Just picky?” “Well, sir. My gut says, no. Because what both the girls said were almost identical, scripted, no thought process. That makes me think that they were coaxed into that speech should anyone ever ask about him.” “Harassment," I say automatically.
“Plausible. I have to search a lot more than just two ex-assistants though.”
By the time Welch leaves, I still haven’t gotten an answer from Anastasia. I watch the monitor, as if Anastasia is going to pop out of it.
Finally an answer dings and I sigh with relief.
_____________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Tomorrow
To: Christian Grey

Hi Christian
Thank you for the flowers; they are lovely. Yes, I would appreciate a ride. Thank you.

______________________________________

Her response, and the prospect of seeing her makes me so happy, I could do a cartwheel here in my office!
I type another response to find out when I can pick her up.
_____________________________________
From: Christian Grey

Subject: Tomorrow
To: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia

What time shall I pick you up?

______________________________________
Time starts ticking again when she’s not answering. Tick tock. Tick tock. “Ana, please talk to me!” I say to my monitor.
______________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Tomorrow
To: Christian Grey

Jose’s show starts at 7:30. What time would you suggest?
______________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Tomorrow
To: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia

Portland is some ways away. I shall collect you at 5:45.

I look forward to seeing you.
______________________________________

Her answering reply is short. But, it’s at least a beginning. ______________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Tomorrow
To: Christian Grey

See you then.
______________________________________
My spirit sees a glimpse of hope for the first time in a week. I’m going to see my Ana tomorrow! This is my chance to redeem myself.

THURSDAY

The day can’t go fast enough. Nothing I do is speeding the day up. No activity, no business, no problem is big enough for me to forget her or to reach the end of the day to finally see her! My mind is locked on Anastasia. I call Taylor to brief him at work, although we’ve been through this yesterday.
“Is the pilot scheduled?”
“Yes sir. He’ll get Charlie Tango ready. Do the pre-flight checks, and have her running by the time we arrive. I will drop you and Miss Steele off at the helipad after collecting her from work, and drive the pilot to Portland and take him to the helipad there, so he can bring Charlie Tango back. Then, I will collect you around 8:30 or 9:00 whenever wish sir in Portland, then, drive you and Miss Steele back home.”
“Fine. Let’s do this,” I say under my breath. I don’t know whether I heard or imagined Taylor saying, “go get her sir!” Surely, not! I’m too wound up!

I leave work by 5:00 p.m. and we arrive at SIP around 5:20 p.m. The last 25 minutes of me waiting to see my girl is torturous. It’s like a marathon runner who ran the 25 miles, and on the last mile he feels the weariness in his bones, but keeps pushing.
My gaze is fixed at the door of SIP. Taylor exists the car as soon as Anastasia emerges from the door. Some fucker is opening the door for her! Another fucking suitor! Taylor opens the rear door of the car, and I lay my eyes on my love for the first time in nearly a week, and the sight of her makes me I’m furious!
“When did you last eat?” I snap at her as she slides in the car beside me.
"Hello, Christian. Yes, it’s nice to see you, too,” she says making me angrier.
“I don’t want your smart mouth now. Answer me,” I say with blazing eyes.
“Um...I had a yogurt at lunchtime. Oh-and a banana,” she responds evasively.
Taylor slips back into the driver’s seat, and starts the car, pulling into the traffic. That fucker who opened the door is standing out by the entry door of SIP and waving. Anastasia’s waves him back.
“Who’s that?” I snap my patience running out.
“My boss,” she says, peeking at me from under her lashes. I’m so angry, my lips are a tout hard line. The bastard, Jack Hyde! I'll deal with that later...
“Well? Your last meal?”
“Christian, that really is none of your concern,” she murmurs. Oh, how little do you know baby!
“Whatever you do concerns me. Tell me,” I plead. She groans in frustration, and rolls her eyes heavenward; my eyes narrow on her. She finally first stifles a smile, and a giggle burst out of her beautiful lips. My face softens at her reaction, as I feel a smile creep on my lips.
“Well?” I ask, in a softer voice.
“Pasta alla vongole, last Friday,” she whispers, and I’m shattered once again.
I close my eyes both fury, and regret sweep my face. I should have contacted her much sooner. She’s upset and starving herself. She’s lost too much weight, and her eyes are sunken!

“You look like you’ve lost at least five pounds, possibly more since then. Please eat, Anastasia,” I scold.
She stares down at the knotted fingers on her lap feeling reprimanded. I shift and turn towards her, to get a better look at her, to assess her well-being.
“How are you?” I ask in a soft, but worried voice.
Her face falls, her shoulders sag as if she’s buried under the load of the universe, crushed. Swallows hard. “If I told you I was fine, I’d be lying,” she says.
I inhale sharply. She has been feeling the same way I have! “Me, too!” I murmur, and reach over and clasp her hand. “I miss you,” I say softly.
She looks at our connected hands the same sweet jolt going through between us.
“Christian, I –“she say, I cut her.
Ana, please. We need to talk.”
Her face falls again. “Christian, I... please... I’ve cried so much,” she whispers.
“Oh, baby, no,” I tug her hand, unbuckle her, and hold her in my embrace where I have wished her to be since the second she left me. I wrap my arms around her tight, and bury my nose in her hair, inhaling her scent. This is heaven... She’s my heaven, and I had to harrow hell to get here.
“I’ve missed you so much, Anastasia” I breathe, and she finally melts into my embrace resting her head against me. ‘I love you! I love you! I love you!’ my heart whispers, my soul intact, but my mouth silent.