Tangled Webs

Leila: I’m going to see Christian Grey today.

Susannah: How? He refuses to see you.

Leila: He loves his wife. I’ll go see her, and if I know him well enough, he will come running to her.

Susannah: Oh, Leila. You are a master manipulator!

Leila: I like to think of myself as an outcome engineer.

CHAPTER XXIII

After spending nearly thirty minutes adding and subtracting from the list, my Blackberry buzzes with an incoming e-mail from Anastasia. I open it excitedly. I hear an insistent knock on my office door, and without waiting for an answer from me, Taylor walks in abruptly; his face is solemn, angry and uneasy. A message from Anastasia and Taylor with this face can’t be good news.

“Taylor?” I ask questioning.

“Just received a voice-mail from Prescott. Leila and Susanna are at SIP, and apparently they both managed to bypass security, and Mrs. Grey knows about their presence. Prescott said that she’ll try to talk Mrs. Grey out of seeing them. But—“

“What?” I jump up from my seat. My hand goes to the on my e-mail on my Blackberry.

________________________________
From: Anastasia Grey
Subject: Visitors
To: Christian Grey

Christian

Leila came here to see me. I will see her with Prescott. Try, and I mean try, not to worry. I am a big girl. I'll call you once she's gone.

A x

Anastasia Grey

___________________________________________________________

What the fuck! Did my wife completely lose her mind? I sink in my chair and find my fingers hitting the #1 speed dial. The phone rings, and rings, and rings as I anxiously grip my desk so hard, my knuckles are white. She doesn’t answer her damn Blackberry; it goes to voice mail. Her cheerful voice comes up: “Hello! You've reached Ana Grey...” I hang up. Anastasia promised to not to defy me! And yet, here she is doing the exact opposite of what she has said she wouldn't do! Anger is seething through my pores. How cruel can she be to me? How could she allow Leila to see her knowing how it nearly broke me down, broke us apart? Leila is willfully disobeying my specific instructions and orders to never to come near Anastasia. What the hell is Anastasia doing accepting her, and where the fuck is Prescott letting this happen? I’m not keeping in touch with Leila, and not answering her repeated requests to talk to her. Why would Anastasia answer her request to see her knowing she put a gun to her head?

I dial Anastasia’s office. Her assistant answers cheerfully.

“Good afternoon. Anastasia Grey’s office at SIP. Hannah’s speak-“ I cut her off.

“Hannah, this is Christian Grey. I want to speak to Mrs. Grey, right now!”

“Ana is with...”

“I KNOW who she is with!” I shout, as I abruptly stand up, my chair is scraping the floor. Taylor flinches. “Get her on the fucking line immediately if you value your job!” I bark as I grab my jacket to rush to SIP. Taylor opens my door without a word, and we head out.

“Uhm. Yes, immediately, Mr. Grey,” she whimpers on the phone. I hear small thud as she drops the phone on to her desk, and she picks it up, to apologize, “Apologies Mr. Grey! The phone—“

“Just get my fucking wife on the phone, NOW!” I hiss menacingly through gritted teeth. The phone thuds onto Hannah's desk again, and I hear quickly retreating heel clicks on the floor. Andrea and Olivia jump to their feet hearing me shout. I ignore them both, and Taylor and I speed through my office exiting to the elevators. What the hell does Leila want from Anastasia? Why would she contact her? Why would she breach her agreement to never see her? She knows I’d cutoff all support from her. Why then is she jeopardizing it, unless she’s ready to check out of life! Shit! Shit! Shit! She could only get her requests through Flynn. And now! God! I press the elevator call button repeatedly until what feels like an eternity it reaches my floor and dings open.

I hear her muffled conversation from a distance on the phone. Anastasia's office is close to Hannah’s desk. She must have left the door open.

“Sorry to interrupt you, Ana. I have Mr. Grey on the line?”

“Tell him I’m busy.” Busy? Busy with fucking me over by completely disobeying me? What if Leila has a gun? What if she’s not well? Fuck this! Answer the fucking phone Ana!

“He was quite insistent,” she says sounding tremulous.

“I am sure he was. Would you apologize to him, and say I’ll call him back very shortly?” Call me back? She’s dismissing me? My wife is determined to torment me vehemently today! There is a pregnant pause for a few seconds.

“Hannah, please!” she snaps. My hand flies to my hair in exasperation, and as I’m forcefully running it Hannah comes back on the phone.

“Mr. Grey, I apologize sir, but Ana said she will call you back shortly.”

“She’s not answering?” I ask as my hand fist in my hair pulling it.

“I’m so sorry sir. I couldn't get her—“

“Fuck this!” I shout as I hang up. I dial Prescott’s phone.

“Mr. Grey,” she answers.

“Prescott, I am FUCKING FURIOUS with you for neglecting the duties you’re hired to conduct!” I shout as I hammer my fist down on to the brushed chrome handlebar on the elevator wall. “You are incapable and inadequate! There’s one fucking person on top of the proscribed list, and it’s Leila Williams! And what the fuck do you do? You let her pass through to talk to my wife! I will deal with your ass when I get there. Now pass the fucking phone to my wife!” I shout holding the Blackberry before my mouth.

“Yes, sir,” she replies meekly.

“Christian,” Anastasia answers the phone with exasperation. She has the gull to talk to me in exacerbation.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” I roar with bristling rage.

“Don’t shout at me.”

“What the hell do you mean don’t shout at you?” I shout even louder. Even Taylor looks angry at her. “I gave you specific instructions which you have completely disregarded – again! Hell, Ana, I am fucking furious!”

“When you are calmer, we will talk about this,” she says getting ready to hang up. Elevator doors ding open and we are at the garage.

“Don’t you hang up on me!” I bellow with sibilation.

“Good-bye, Christian,” she says, and hangs up on me! On me! I dial it again, and it goes to voice mail directly. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Why does she always, always make me feel helpless, ties me up in virtual knots? She enslaves me with one word, or action, or fucking behavior putting herself in mortal danger! I basically run to the SUV to get to SIP. As soon as Taylor presses the button on the keyless entry as he’s running behind me, I open the passenger door, and he slides into the driver’s side.

“Drive like your life depends on it!” I order.

“Yes, sir!”

The drive to SIP is one of my longest, second only to the flight from New York. It appears I can’t trust my wife! What if I was out of town? Can’t I trust the fucking security to do their job properly, either? I loosen my tie, and undo the top button of my white shirt. I run both hands through my hair in utter desperation, anger and exasperation. I turn the intensity of my gaze to Taylor.

“Prescott is gone! And when this fucking thing is over, I want you to drill into the security team who can never, EVER approach to Mrs. Grey even if they have to drag the person away before her eyes! Otherwise, they will be replaced like Prescott!”

“Yes, sir.”

Out of control! What the hell is Leila doing there? What the hell does she want? Why is she breaking the rules? And my wife is falling right into the trap that Leila is setting up willingly with her fucking curiosity! The ghost of Leila with a gun to Ana’s head is still haunting my dreams, angering me. And now, she’s with her! Again! If Anastasia’s constant defiance was the measure for frequent flyer miles, I wouldn't need the GEH jet; because I’d be flying first class for life! I am disintegrating inside with worry, and fear that some harm might come to her, through her own disdain, and by the neglect and carelessness of my own fucking security detail!

Anastasia will be the death of me! I hope Leila doesn’t harm her, and I hope she’s okay when I get to SIP! I’m going to be driven to brutality, wrath and rage, although I’m already there! My wife creates my personal hell with her brand of inferno, and shoves me in to burn my soul! Why do you make me suffer so?

Taylor runs a red light to turn the corner, and SIP is in sight. He slows down to take the corner to turn into the parking lot and before he comes to a complete stop, I open the door, and run out. I hear him mutter, “Shit!” I walk with brisk steps to SIP. The African-American girl at the reception whose name tag says “Claire” stands up. Taylor catches up with me. Then I see Susannah sitting there, and she pales as soon as she sees my furious face. She knows what it means well enough: I’m in a punishing mood.

“Mr. Grey! Shall I inform Ana or Mr. Roach of your arrival?” she asks running after me.

“No! Get back to your seat!” I pin her with my gaze, and sure enough other employees come out to see what is going on.

“What's going—“ Roach sticks his head out of his office with irritated curiosity. When he sees me, his demeanor changes, and he walks out to meet me briskly, buttoning his jacket.

“Mr. Grey, I didn't know you were coming here?” he says in a questioning tone.

“What are you running here, Roach? Why the lax security? Apparently anyone could walk in here!” He blinks a few times.

“Mr. Grey, if you wish, I can take you to my office to discuss. Would you like something to drink?”

“This is not a social call, Roach! I know my way around!” I hiss in a menacingly low voice. I’m royally pissed with the poor security around here! Taylor holds Roach back. “Get back to work, please!” he says to others, and follows me on my heels as soon as I walk towards Anastasia’s door. Hannah immediately stands up, flushing red.

“Uhm... Mr. Grey! Ana is not in her office,” she says in a shaky voice.

“Where the hell is she?” I say turning the intensity of my gaze on her.

“Oh, she’s in a meeting room with Miss Williams, and Prescott.”

“Don’t just sit there! Point me to the meeting room!”

“Oh yes, sure. I’ll take you sir...” she says standing up abruptly, and as I walk to the meeting room, I notice that other employees are coming out of their offices, and casually trying to look busy. But I don’t give a shit about it right now. I’m angry at Leila, for ignoring my specific order to never to come near my wife! Angry with Anastasia for defying me! Angry at myself for hiring an incompetent security detail! What if I was out of town? I storm through the meeting room door. It slams back to the wall only to spring back slightly. Taylor remains behind me. I catch the door, and close it. Anastasia is sitting at the table with Leila. She gives Taylor a nervous smile, and he’s mad as hell as I am. I turn around and pin both Anastasia and Leila with the intensity of my infernal gaze. My rage and fury sweeps the room like a heat wave. Both Anastasia and Leila look up, and their gazes lock on me. Anastasia’s eyes linger on my hair and my loosened dark tie, and her eyes linger on my chest hair peeking through my open top shirt. Leila looks nervous and lowers her gaze looking down at the edge of the table, running her finger along the edge. I gaze at my wife. Noting the fact that she’s uninjured isn't enough to relieve me. I move the intensity of my gaze over to Leila, and then turn to Prescott.

“You,” I say in a deceivingly soft tone. “You’re fired. Get out now.”

Anastasia winces as if she’s hit.

“Christian—“ she says making to stand up.

I hold my index finger up, and pin her down to her seat in a warning expression. “Don’t,” I say in a low, inauspicious tone. I’m not to be trifled with right now. Anastasia quiets down immediately, and grounded to her seat. Prescott bows her head shamefully, and quickly exits the meeting room to join Taylor outside. I close the door behind her, and look at Anastasia and Leila again with a forbidding stare and walk to the edge of the table, standing opposite to Leila; I lean down, and place both my hands on the wooden surface. The single focus of my rage is her at the moment.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I snarl at her.