Chapter 46 - Submit A Proposal

“You said Miss Steele was upset when you got her out of the apartment – just how upset was she? Was she upset enough to have...”

I can't bring myself to vocalize my worst fear to Taylor - that being held at gunpoint by my ex submissive has proved a step too far for her to handle, that Anastasia has run away from me, unable to cope with all the undoubted shit that surfaced today. Your past really came back to bite you on the ass today, didn’t it Grey? You know it’s your fault that Leila could have killed Ana, don’t you?

Taylor glances at me, before shifting his line of sight to somewhere over my left shoulder. I'm guessing he’s trying to assess how best to handle his explosive boss. He knows I'm furious that he let Ana walk away earlier, but maybe he doesn’t get that I'm also angry and frustrated at her lack of trust and understanding.

Okay, so maybe I didn’t handle things all that sensitively with her when I ordered her to leave, but surely Ana could see it was for the best that I got her as far away as possible from Leila, who is undoubtedly a very sick girl.  

Clearly it was my responsibility, my duty, to help her under the circumstances, so why the fuck couldn’t Ana just trust me and do as I say? 

Why couldn’t she cooperate and just return to the apartment like I told her, especially if she was upset like Taylor said? Why would she act so irresponsibly to go off drinking like a sulky teenager instead? Why does she always have to fucking well defy me?

“Well, Miss Steele was crying, but I think it was probably shock and relief that made her react that way. She was relieved that Mr. Kavanagh was unhurt, so when he suggested going for a drink, I think maybe she just went along with it.” Taylor tries his best to shed some light on matters, but he looks distinctly uncomfortable at being put on the spot like this.

“So where the fuck are they both now? Did you see where they went?”

 “Not exactly, sir.  I’ve been to all the popular bars in the local area to see if I can track them down, but I haven’t had any luck as yet.”

“You’d better keep looking once you’ve dropped me back at Escala. I’ll wait there in case she returns.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll keep looking until we find Miss Steele. She can't have gone far, but I won’t rest until I know she’s safe. It was my responsibility to ensure her safety, and I know I let both her and you down today. It should not have been possible for Miss Williams to pose any kind of threat in the way she did, so I understand if you feel my resignation, for dereliction of duty, is appropriate…” His voice breaks as he clears his throat, and he is still concentrating hard on something behind me.

“Just find her, Taylor. That’s all that matters. If either of us had had any idea of just how sick Miss Williams was, or the lengths she was prepared to go to, we might both have acted differently - hindsight is a wonderful thing. I don’t require your resignation. We won’t talk of that again, just so long as we get Miss Steele back safe and sound.”

~~~

“She’s here,” I bark down my cell at Taylor, just as he’s calling me from the third bar he’s searched with no luck. I instructed him to report back from each one, which he has been doing for the last half hour or so.

“Thank fuck for that,” he exclaims with some feeling, exhaling loudly. It seems he’s been just as worried about Ana as I have. I switch the phone off before I throw it down on top of my piano.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

I’m struggling to keep my temper in check. I am already wound up, but seeing Ana just casually walking in, with no apology for her behavior, winds me up even further. 

And then seeing her slightly unsteady on her feet, and realizing she is drunk makes me really fucking mad. She's been out enjoying herself drinking, while Taylor and I have been worried sick and searching every bar in town for her? 

Frankly, I'm appalled at her selfish and immature behavior.

“Have you been drinking?”

“A bit,” she answers, as she tilts her chin up defiantly.

I’m shocked that she brazenly doesn’t even bother to try and deny it.

“I told you to come back here. It’s now fifteen after ten. I've been worried about you.”

I don't appreciate my feelings being thoughtlessly upset in this way. I’m not used to anyone disobeying me, and I fucking hate this feeling of being so out of control.

“I went for a drink or three with Ethan while you attended to your ex. I didn’t know how long you were going to be… with her,” Ana hisses at me.

What? She’s angry with me? This is not at all what I expected. I thought she might be upset about being held at gunpoint maybe, but this?

“Why do you say it like that?”

She almost sounds as if she’s… jealous, I think. She can't possibly think there was anything going on between Leila and me, can she? But when Ana just shrugs and looks down at her fingers, which I’ve worked out means she’s feeling insecure in some way, I begin to worry that maybe there’s a whole lot more to this than Ana just disobeying me to go out for a drink.

“Ana, what’s wrong?”

She takes an age before she looks up at me to ask,

“Where’s Leila?”

“In a psychiatric hospital in Fremont. Ana, what is it? What’s wrong?”

I move right in front of her, to try and read her face, her expression, to see what’s going on in her mind. But I can already sense it’s not good. Shit. What is going on in her head?

“I’m no good for you,” she solemnly declares, as she shakes her head.

“What? Why do you think that? How can you possibly think that?” You’re the best thing in the world for me.

“I can't be everything you need.”

“You are everything I need.” And more, so much more.

“Just seeing her with you….”

“Why do you do this to me? This is not about you, Ana. It’s about her. At the moment she’s a very sick girl.” What was I supposed to do – just walk away?

“But I felt it… what you had together.”

“What? No.” That’s all in the past – I just revisited the D/s scene for a short while today, purely to get Leila to accept the help she needs.

I reach my hand out to Ana, but she recoils from me. She’s withdrawing from me. It seems she wants nothing more to do with me.

“You're running?” I whisper. She’s got me really scared now. This is turning into a far worse nightmare than I could possibly have imagined.

She doesn’t reply, and I can feel my world beginning to shatter and fall apart.

“You can’t,” I plead with her. You just can't.

I won’t survive this time. My fragile heart, the one that she revived, the one that has only just thawed because she breathed life into it, will wither and die if she is no longer willing to nurture and care for it.

“Christian…" 

She struggles to find the words she needs to release herself from me. I don’t want her to let go of us just like this, I can't let this happen.

“No. No! You can't go Ana, I love you!” I’ve never told anyone I loved them before, only you. It will only ever be you.

“I love you, too, Christian, it’s just…”

She’s trying to say good bye. She’s breaking up with me. I can feel the cold blade of the knife going straight through my heart, severing our connection.

“No… no!” This is even worse than before. I won’t survive again.

“Christian…”

This can't be happening, this can't be real. It must be a nightmare, one of the very worst of my life.

She thinks I want to go back to my old world, that the contact with Leila has made me regress, but she couldn’t be further from the truth. I know with total and utter certainty that I don’t want a submissive like Leila. 

I only want Anastasia. I want her in every part of my life, in every way. I feel panic sweeping through me. I might have her here with me physically, but I can feel that I'm losing her all the same.  

What can I do to convince her that she is the one, that she controls my whole world now? I can't survive without her, and she is the only one who can tell me what to do to make things right. 

Then it comes to me. I know what I must do, what I have to do. It is the only way now. Anastasia must take control. I need her to tell me what to do. She must command me, and I will obey her command.

I drop to my knees in front of her, and bow my head. I spread my legs the required distance apart, and place my hands in the correct position on my thighs.

I take a deep breath, as I hand total control of my future over to Anastasia. I am now her fully compliant and obedient submissive. I am hers to do with as she sees fit.

~~~

I feel calmness spreading through me, as I let myself drift into the submissive state of mind. I know I am not worthy, but now I can let all my worries drift away. I no longer have to think for myself. I will do whatever Anastasia instructs me is required.  She is my Dominant. There is nothing more for me to do.

“Why are you doing this? Talk to me,” she commands.

“What would you like me to say?” I seek clarification.

But there is no other command from her, so I retreat further into myself. I have handed over all responsibility to Anastasia.

I vaguely register that she kneels in front of me, but I do not need to respond. She talks, but I do not need to respond. I have entered my safe submissive subspace. It is calm here. I do not need to think. I do not need to speak. She carries on talking, but I do not need to respond. I do not want to respond. I just want to remain safely buried in numbness.

Elena always took care of me and told me what to do when I was her submissive. Elena. I don’t feel as relaxed when I think about her, so I immediately put a stop to those thoughts. I don't want any distractions. I don't need anyone else to tell me what to do. 

Only Anastasia.  

She is still talking, but her words are just floating over me like small puffs of clouds. It is enough to know that as long as I am kneeling here, and she is speaking, she has not left me and I will not shatter into a thousand pieces and cease to exist.

“Are you going to kneel here all night? Because I’ll do it too,” Anastasia’s voice snaps at me, bringing me back from my safe cocoon for an instant.

But I'm not ready yet, I am not ready to start thinking for myself. It is too difficult. It is too hard to begin contemplating a future without her.

“Christian, please, please… talk to me.”

But I can't. I cannot risk the pain, it will be unbearable. The pain in my heart will finish me off for ever, if I let myself resurface. I cannot take the chance. I must stay here, where I can remain protected from the agony.

“Please,” Anastasia repeats, and as her beautiful, sincere, blue eyes bore intensely into mine, they seem to reach down into the very depths of my soul, in a way only she has ever been able to do, and I slowly feel us begin to reconnect. She is still here. She has not left me.

“I was so scared,” I whisper, still unsure if I have the strength to face up to this. But some inner fortitude kicks in from somewhere deep within me, and I slowly return and start explaining to Ana why I dealt with Leila in the way that I did, about the overwhelming guilt I felt because I might have had something to do with her mental breakdown. 

I can only hope that gaining an insight into my actions will help her to see how it would have been my fault if anything had happened to her. 

Everything I did was to protect Ana and look after her, because she is the most precious thing in my life. To have her run out on me because of those actions is unbearable, so I have to make her understand why I needed to be alone with Leila. Her assessment of the situation was completely incorrect.

“I just wanted you gone, I wanted you away from the danger, and You. Just. Wouldn’t. Go.” I insist, as I see the questioning look in her eyes. “Anastasia Steele, you are the most stubborn woman I know.”

I take a deep breath and close my eyes, as I shake my head in disbelief at how exasperating she can be. The strength of my feelings and frustration has pulled me back from my subspace now. I hear Ana heave a big sigh, so I open my eyes again. She’s still here.  Do I dare to hope this means she is staying? 

Some of her words that washed over me before come back now. I’m not going to run. I've told you and told you and told you, I won’t run.

“You weren’t going to run?”

“No!”

Instead of the usual panic washing over me, I finally experience some relief instead.

“I thought… This is me, Ana. All of me… and I'm all yours. What do I have to do to make you realize that? To make you see that I want you any way I can get you. That I love you.”

“I love you too, Christian, and to see you like this… I thought I’d broken you.” Tears fall down her cheeks.

“Broken? Me? Oh no, Ana. Just the opposite. You’re my lifeline,” I whisper, as I take her hand to kiss her delicate little knuckles. I want to prove to her how much she means to me, how precious her sweet touch is, and I know there is one sure way that I can do that, even though it will be desperately hard for me. I take a deep breath as I dig deep to find the strength to allow her to touch me – really touch me.

I take her hand, and hold it in place on my chest, directly over my heart. It takes all my resolve not to give in to the strong urge to snatch her hand away again. This is Ana's touch. This is okay. This is good. Her touch will heal you. I repeat these words in my head, over and over, and gradually I feel strong enough to let go, and just leave her hand where it is. 

I hold my breath as she flexes her hand just a tiny fraction, to test me out. She looks at me so anxiously, she's worried because my sweet Ana understands the torment any touch on that part of my body creates. She starts to take her hand away.

“No. Don't.” I put my hand back over hers, to make sure she keeps it there. I crave this contact between us so badly, so I have to overcome my phobia. I have to prove that I can do this for her. Ana understands; she moves closer, so that our knees are touching, as we continue to kneel together on the floor. 

She slowly raises her other hand, showing me she wants to extend her touch. I know how much this means to her, how she longs to be able to touch all areas of my body, instead of just those in the safe zone. I long for this too.

She indicates that I need to release her hand so that she can unbutton my shirt. She wants to really touch me, touch me properly. This is Ana's touch. This is okay. This is good. Her touch will heal you. I let her undo my shirt, as I try to fight off the rising panic I feel bubbling up inside me, because of the memories any kind of touch always invokes for me. She hesitates, unsure if she should carry on.

“Yes,” I whisper, to reassure her, to urge her to continue.

Then I feel her light fingertip touch on my chest, brushing my chest hair. No one has touched me here since… I can't think about that. I have to force those bad memories away. I have to let Ana’s loving touch erase them. 

From now on, I must think only of her touch on my skin. This is Ana's touch. This is okay. This is good. Her touch will heal you. But it is hard, so fucking hard, almost unbearable, and I clench my teeth to stop myself from screaming out. Ana reacts by taking her hand away, but I grab it back again. I'm not giving up yet.

“No, I need to,” I manage to grunt out, as I keep my eyes tightly closed.

Ana tenderly strokes her fingers across my chest, and it is such sweet agony. I love her touch, but the fear is entrenched so deeply within me that it is almost impossible to fight it.  But I do. I let her continue. Then she steps things up another notch. She’s pushing me, testing me.

She gently and sweetly places the softest of soft little kisses on one of my scars. The bitter sweetness of her lips makes me groan loudly, even though I try my hardest to be quiet so I don't upset her, but she leans back, fearful that she has pushed me too far.

“Again,” I whisper, determined to carry on with this as far as I possibly can. I want to enjoy her touch. I want her to be able to kiss me all over my body.

She tenderly kisses another of my scars, then another. It’s overwhelmingly intense, this feeling of her kissing my forbidden zone. Enough. That’s as far as I can go today, this time. 

But it is so much further than I ever thought would be possible. That’s the effect Ana has on me. She breaks all my boundaries to split me wide open, but it’s okay, because I want to let her in.

I pull her into my arms, desperate to hold her because my locked up feelings are spilling over now. I tug her hair to tip her head back, so I can kiss those soft, enchanting lips of hers.

“Oh, Ana.”

I pull her under me as I kiss her, and she knots her fingers in my hair as if she’s trying to bind me to her, then she cups my face with her hands. I’m overcome with emotion and that emotion seems to be spilling down my cheeks.

“Christian, please, don't cry. Is that what I'm doing? I meant it when I said I’d never leave you. I did. If I gave you any other impression, I'm so sorry… please, please forgive me. I love you. I will always love you.”

No, she won’t, not if she really knew you. What’s the point of holding back, Grey? She will find out one day. You might as well finish things off right here, right now. Put everyone concerned out of their misery for once and for all, rather than have this Sword of Damocles forever hanging over you. You know you have to, that’s why it keeps going round and round in your head. This secret will always be a festering, pus filled boil waiting to be lanced otherwise.

“What is it?”

See. She knows there is something you’re holding back. It’s only a matter of time before she finds out. Isn’t it better she hears the goddamned awful perverted and sickening truth direct from the source of depravity?

“What is this secret that makes you think I’ll run for the hills? That makes you so determined to believe I’ll go? Tell me, Christian, please…”

This is it then. After all my efforts to conceal my worst secret, in the end it has proved futile. My depravity will always catch up with me, no matter how hard I try to escape it. I can't change who I am. I've been so selfish in expecting her to live with a man like me. I owe her total honesty, because I owe her everything.

“Ana…”

Grey, it’s no good trying to put a brave face on any of this. Just act like a decent human being for once in your life and be man enough to tell her how it really is with you. Tell her exactly how fifty shades of fucked up you truly are, because until now you know that you’ve been dishonestly holding back. You’ve only come clean for about the first twenty shades, if that.

“I’m a sadist, Ana. I like to whip little brown-haired girls like you because you all look like the crack whore - my birth mother. I’m sure you can guess why.”

Anastasia just stares at me in disbelief. Well, I can't take back the words now, it’s too late. I have made my confession and now I just have to deal with the fallout as best I can.

“You said you weren’t a sadist,” she whispers, puzzled.

“No, I said I was a Dominant. If I lied to you, it was a lie of omission. I’m sorry.” Stop trying to squirm your way out of this, Grey. You knew all along exactly what you were. “When you asked me that question, I had envisioned a very different relationship between us.”

I can see her getting ready to run for the hills, and who can blame her? 

She’s sitting there with her head in her hands as she tries to take it all in.

“So it’s true. I can’t give you what you need,” she whispers, as she glances up at me. Her eyes are huge in her face, and I can see that she is panicking as she figures out the truth. She thought she knew the worst about me; now she discovers it’s even worse than that. 

But what gets me about confessing all this shit now is that I know beyond any shadow of doubt that Anastasia can give me what I need. I will take her anyway I can, any part of her that she is willing to give, and that will be more than enough. I know that now.

“No, no, no. Ana. No. You can. You do give me what I need. Please believe me.”

“I don't know what to believe, Christian. This is so fucked up.”

“Ana, believe me. After I punished you and you left me, my worldview changed. I wasn’t joking when I said I would avoid ever feeling like that again. When you said you loved me, it was a revelation. No one’s ever said it to me before, and it was as if I’d laid something to rest – or maybe you’d laid it to rest, I don't know. Dr. Flynn and I are still in deep discussions about it.”

He thinks my love for Anastasia has finally begun to assuage the overwhelming rage and anger I’ve always carried round with me. Until that point, the only way to control that rage, to find any kind of release, was for me to punish the subs I contracted, because they all looked like the crack whore. I beat and whipped the shit out of them, just as Elena showed me how to, to make me feel better. 

But until I finally accepted that I had fallen in love with Ana, Flynn and I couldn’t begin working on making sense of this. So it’s still early days in that discussion.

“What does that all mean?”

“It means I don't need it. Not now.”

“How do you know? How can you be so sure?”

“I just know. The thought of hurting you… in any real way… it’s abhorrent to me.”

“I don't understand. What about rulers and spanking and all that kinky fuckery?” Oh, sweet innocent Ana, that’s just the really light shit; that’s just goofing around, compared to what I can really do when I let myself go.

“I’m talking about the heavy shit, Anastasia. You should see what I can do with a cane or a cat.” I’ve become a real Master at leaving intricate red welt patterns crisscrossed all over beautiful pale skin like hers.

“I’d rather not,” she tells me shocked. And that’s the point. I don't want to, because she doesn’t want to. She is far more important than any kick I get out of it.

“I know. If you wanted to do that, then fine… but you don't, and I get it. I can't do all that shit with you if you don't want to. I told you once before, you have all the power. And now, since you came back, I don't feel that compulsion, at all.” Her leaving was the strongest aversion therapy I could ever have experienced.

“When we met, that’s what you wanted, though?”

“Yes, undoubtedly.”

“How can your compulsion just go, Christian? Like I'm some kind of a panacea, and you’re – for want of a better word – cured? I don't get it.”

“I wouldn't say cured. If only it were that simple. You don't believe me?”

“I just find it – unbelievable. Which is different.”

“If you had never left me, then I probably wouldn’t feel this way. You walking out on me was the best thing you ever did… for us. It made me realize how much I want you, just you, and I mean it when I say that I’ll take you any way I can have you.”

Ana just gazes at me as she tries to make sense of it all.

“You're still here. I thought you would be out of the door by now,” I whisper incredulously.  Is it possible there is still hope for us?

“Why? Because I might think you’re a sicko for whipping and fucking women who look like your birth mother? Whatever would give you that impression,” she hisses at me.

Can I blame her reaction? She’s only speaking the truth. Which way is this going to go? I'm really not sure, as I wait for her next move. I have to be patient and give her time. She could still be out of that door any second now.

“Christian, I'm exhausted. Can we discuss this tomorrow? I want to go to bed.”

What? Go to bed like normal? She’s not leaving right now?

“You're not going?”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No! I thought you would leave once you knew. Don't leave me,” I beg.

“Oh, for crying out loud – no! I am not going to go,” she yells.

“Really?” I’ve just told you my worst depraved shit, the full fifty shades, and yet you’re not going?

“What can I do to make you understand I will not run? What can I say?”

Do I dare tell her what I really want? That I want the biggest commitment I can possibly ask of her, that I can offer to her? 

Fuck, what have I got to lose, after everything else that’s happened? And you never know, she might surprise me yet again. I take a deep breath.

“There is one thing you can do.”

“What?”

“Marry me,” I whisper.

Anastasia stares at me in total disbelief. Then she starts to giggle. She bites her lip to try and control herself, but she can't stop. I think she’s hysterical, as she lies flat out on the floor and carries on laughing, in the end howling uncontrollably.

Of all her possible reactions, I did not foresee this one. Is the idea of marrying me that ridiculous? Does hysterical laughter mean yes, or no? I have no idea.

“You find my proposal amusing, Miss Steele?

“Mr. Grey… Christian. Your sense of timing is without doubt…” Words fail her, as she reaches up to gently caress my rough, stubbly cheek. I love her touch.

Have I blown it, by proposing at what she considers an inappropriate moment? I need to know.

“You’re cutting me to the quick here, Ana. Will you marry me?”

She sits up and stares into my eyes.

“Christian, I’ve met your psycho ex with a gun, been thrown out of my apartment, had you go thermonuclear Fifty on me…”

I start to protest that I did not throw her out of her apartment, but she holds up her hand to stop me.

“You’ve just revealed some, quite frankly, shocking information about yourself, and now you’ve asked me to marry you.”

Well, I guess when she puts it like that…

“Yes, I think that’s a fair and accurate summary of the situation,” I agree.  Ana always did have a way with words.

“Whatever happened to delayed gratification?” She shakes her head at me.

“I got over it and I'm now a firm advocate of instant gratification. Carpe diem, Ana,” I whisper. I want you to be my wife. I want to be your husband. Why wait?

“Look, Christian, I've known you for about three minutes, and there’s so much more I need to know. I've had too much to drink, I'm hungry, I'm tired, and I want to go to bed. I need to consider your proposal just as I considered that contract you gave me. And that wasn’t the most romantic proposal.”

Romantic?

“Fair point well made, as ever, Miss Steele. So that’s not a no?” She’s not turning me down flat, anyway.

“No, Mr. Grey, it’s not a no, but it’s not a yes either. You’re only doing this because you're scared, and you don't trust me.”

“No, I’m doing this because I've finally met someone I want to spend the rest of my life with. I never thought that would happen to me.” This is the honest truth, from the bottom of my heart, the heart that belongs only to you, and always will, because you were the one who finally unlocked it.  

“Can I think about it… please? And think about everything else that’s happened today? What you’ve just told me? You asked for patience and faith. Well, back at you, Grey. I need those now.”

I have to accept that she has had a lot to take in today. And she has been so brave, so strong, even after hearing the very worst of my bad shit. She is one amazing woman. She can have my patience and faith, if that’s what she needs.

“I can live with that. As long as the answer is yes. “Not very romantic, eh? Hearts and flowers?”

She nods slowly at me, with a shy little smile on her beautiful face.

I will do whatever it takes to get Anastasia to say yes. As I kiss her sweet lips and gently tuck a lock of soft hair behind her ear, I’m determined to come up with the most romantic proposal next time round that I can possibly dream up, because that’s what my girl, the love of my life, deserves. 

And as I don't believe in doing things by halves, next time I’ll make fucking sure she is totally overwhelmed by hearts and flowers, if that’s what she wants.

Oh, and I’ll be buying her the biggest fucking diamond engagement ring I can find, to mark her as mine to the whole fucking wide world.

I don’t own any of the Fifty Shades Trilogy or the characters therein. They belong to E L James. I’m just borrowing them for fun and not for profit. Please refer to the Legal’s page for further details. This work is not to be copied or reproduced in any way without permission.