Its been a week since I had Thomas Hardy’s “Tess of the d’ Urbervilles” delivered to her apartment. First Editions by the way. That’s right, Mr. Grey doesn’t fuck around. No response, no thank you note, nothing. Perhaps it’s due to the note I enclosed….
Why didn’t you tell me there was danger? Why didn’t you warn me?
Ladies know what to guard against, because they read novels that tell them of these tricks…
Another warning. After what I said to her the other day, me and my brilliant choice of words warning her that I wasn’t right for her, and to steer clear of me, it’s no wonder she hasn’t been in touch. Not even to thank me for the books. It’s not a thank you that I’m concerned with. I just need to hear from her, something..anything.
I’m finishing up some work on my laptop when I get a call. I answer, and.. fuck, it’s her. “Anastasia?” She sounds like shes been drinking. She asks why I sent the books, and I want to tell her that it’s my twisted fucked up way of manipulating her into getting in touch. “Anastasia, are you alright? Where are you?” I ask, genuinely concerned, and feeling that I have no control over the situation, I’m pissed as fuck. She tells me that she’s at a bar in Portland and asks again about the books. I ask once more, in my CEO demanding tone to tell me where she’s at. All I hear after my urging, is a dial tone…..
Oh, that’s bullshit. I put GPS straight to work and change into jeans and a white button down linen shirt, grab my keys and leave the Heathman in a mad dash to the location that shows on my cell.
Sitting in my car in front of the bar for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm myself before going in after her. I am so fucking angry..but, why? She is nothing more to me than a possible sub, and that’s probably not going to happen anyways, so why the fuck am I here? Because, Grey..you’re an obsessed stalker you asshole. True..Fuck it, I get out of the car.
Perfect. As if I wasn’t pissed off enough, the first thing that I see is that dick Jose’ and his grimey paws all over Anastasia. Christ, can I just kick his ass now? She’s pushing him off right as I approach them, his lips too close to hers for my comfort. I swoop in like some modern day fucked up stalker superhero, expecting to save the damsel in distress.
I quickly chime in, and it’s more than obvious by my tone that I am furious. Not to mention the flared nostrils and rage in my eyes..Yes, I’ve got all that going on over a girl I barely know. Good job Grey.
“I think the lady said no!”
The looks on both off their faces is priceless, to say the least. The dirt bag releases her and steps back. He knows that I can and will fuck him up if he doesn’t back off, lucky for him, he goes back into the bar.
“Anastasia, you don’t look well.” And, the second that I say that, she’s bent over vomiting into a flowerbed outside of the bar. I pull her hair back, doing my best to hold my tongue and scold her after shes done. Why make the poor girl feel any worse than she does already.
I take a handkerchief from my back pocket..yes, a sign of a true shining knight in armor..and hand it to her. She apologizes as she wipes her mouth, and asks how I found her. Do you realize just who I am Miss Steele?
Instead of being an arrogant ass, I try to comfort her. “We’ve all been here Anastasia.” Well, not me. I’m much to perfect to ever drink to excess and throw up outside of a bar..in public no less. “It’s all about knowing your limits, my dear.” Something I will teach you about, should you agree to be my sub. “Let’s get you home.” And by home, I mean my suite at the Heathman.
She tells me that she needs to let Miss Kavanagh know that’s she leaving. We go inside and find her out on the dance floor, with my very own brother. How the fuck did this happen? Fuck, it, no time for that now. “Go inform her, I’m going to get you a glass of water.”
She meets me up at the bar and drinks the water down quickly. I take her by the arm and lead her out to my car. She’s now going on again about the books. I choose to ignore her in her drunk state, and instead, turn the volume up on the music, letting it drown her voice out. This is neither the time, nor the place for any sort of discussing that requires brain cells.
We arrive at the Heathman, and she’s all but completely passed out. I help her up to my suite, getting her undressed and into bed.
I make up the couch with fresh sheets and a blanket, and lie down myself. My mind stirring, replaying the evenings events over in my head. This is not how I imagined the first night with her in my bed would go.
But, fucking the dead is not my style.