“That’s sad.”
Ana’s compassion knows no bounds. I tighten my hold on her. “Are you okay with all your stuff being here? I want you to share my room.”
“Yes.”
“I want you sleeping with me. I don’t have nightmares when you’re with me.”
“You have nightmares?”
“Yes.” She squeezes me tighter, and we stand in my closet wrapped around each other.
A few moments later, she says, “I was just getting my clothes ready for work tomorrow.”
“Work?” I release her.
“Yes, work,” she says, confused.
“But Leila, she’s out there.” Doesn’t she get the risk? “I don’t want you to go to work.”
“That’s ridiculous, Christian. I have to go to work.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I have a new job, which I enjoy. Of course I have to go to work.”
“No, you don’t.” I can look after you.
“Do you think I am going to stay here twiddling my thumbs while you’re off being master of the universe?”
“Frankly, yes,” I respond.
Ana closes her eyes and rubs her forehead as if she’s calling on all her inner strength. She doesn’t understand. “Christian, I need to go to work,” she says.
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes. I. Do.” Her tone is forthright and determined.
“It’s not safe.” Suppose something happens to you?
“Christian, I need to work for a living, and I’ll be fine.”
“No, you don’t need to work for a living, and how do you know you’ll be fine?”
Fuck. This is why I like having submissives. This would not be an argument if she’d signed the fucking contract.
“For heaven’s sake, Christian, Leila was standing at the end of your bed, and she didn’t harm me, and yes, I do need to work. I don’t want to be beholden to you. I have my student loans to pay.” She places her hands on her hips.
“I don’t want you going to work.”
“It’s not up to you, Christian. This is not your decision to make.”
Fuck.
She’s made up her mind.
And of course she’s right.
I run my hand through my hair, trying to hold on to my temper, and eventually I have an idea. “Sawyer will come with you.”
“Christian, that’s not necessary. You’re being irrational.”
“Irrational?” I snap. “Either he comes with you or I will be really irrational and keep you here.”
“How, exactly?”
“Oh, I’d find a way, Anastasia. Don’t push me.” I’m about to explode.
“Okay!” she shouts, holding up both her hands. “Okay, Sawyer can come with me if it makes you feel better.”
I want to kiss her or spank her or fuck her. I step forward and she immediately takes a step back, watching me.
Grey! You’re frightening the poor girl.
I take a deep cleansing breath and offer Ana a tour of my apartment. If she’s going to stay, she should really get to know this place.
She gives me an uncertain look, as if I’ve caught her off guard. But she agrees and takes my outstretched hand. I give her hand a squeeze.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” I offer as an apology.
“You didn’t. I was just getting ready to run,” she says.
“Run?”
You’ve pushed her too far again, Grey.
“I’m joking!” she cries.
That’s not funny, Ana.
I sigh and lead her through the apartment. I show her the spare room next to mine, then take her upstairs to the additional spare rooms, the gym, and the staff quarters.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go in here?” she asks coyly, as we walk past the playroom door.
“I don’t have the key.” I’m still smarting from our argument. I hate arguing with her. But as usual, she’s calling me out on my shit.
But what if something happens to her?
It will be my fault.
All I can do is hope Sawyer will protect her.
Downstairs, I show her the TV room.
“So you do have an Xbox.” She laughs. I love her laugh. It immediately makes me feel better.
“Yes, but I’m crap at it. Elliot always beats me. That was funny, when you thought I meant this room was my playroom.”
“I’m glad you find me amusing, Mr. Grey,” she says.
“That you are, Miss Steele, when you’re not being exasperating, of course.”
“I’m usually exasperating when you’re being unreasonable.”
“Me? Unreasonable?”
“Yes, Mr. Grey. ‘Unreasonable’ could be your middle name.”
“I don’t have a middle name.”
“Unreasonable would suit, then.”
“I think that’s a matter of opinion, Miss Steele.”
“I would be interested in Dr. Flynn’s professional opinion.”
Lord, I love sparring with her.
“I thought Trevelyan was your middle name,” she asks.
“No. Surname. Trevelyan-Grey.”
“But you don’t use it.”
“It’s too long. Come.”
Next I take her to Taylor’s office. He stands when we enter. “Hi, Taylor. I’m just giving Anastasia a tour.” He nods at both of us. Ana looks around, surprised, I think, by the size of the room and the bank of CCTV monitors. We move on. “And, of course, you’ve been in here.” I open the door to the library, where Ana spies the billiards table.
“Shall we play?” she challenges.
Miss Steele is up for a game. “Okay. Have you played before?”