After the revelation at dinner it was hard to believe that he would invite you up. But here you are. Riding the elevator alongside him. Neither of you are craving any sexual desire, but it's not all business either. In fact, you don't know what he has planned or why he's asked you to come up. This thought races your heart, not out of fear, but out of the unknown. No one likes the unknown.
He opens the door to his apartment for you and you walk right into the middle, stuck gazing out the dreamy view of the dark city lit up.
"Can I take your coat?" Christian asks.
You shake your head and smile. He nods. You swing your arms, not knowing what to do. "So..." You turn around to find Christian leaning sideways over his silver kitchen island.
"So..." he nods.
Suddenly, a wave of idiocy pulls you under, and you go red from the embarrassment. "I don't know even know why I'm here," you mumble.
He looks down, staring intently. His jaw ticks. "I want you to ask me about that girl."
"Kelly?"
He heaves his eyes onto you. "What your friend brought up."
We'll see if under the remains of all this still lies a friendship. He was so rude. You sigh uncomfortably. "Christian, don't."
"Don't, what?" he stands up straight.
"You don't have to do this."
"I know I don't."
"Donovan was just being an asshole."
"A misinformed asshole."
You pause and cross your arms. "So the lawsuit never happened?"
"It happened."
The force of your heart drumming against your chest makes you drop your hands to your sides. "So it's true."
"Not everything. Not like what he thinks happened."
"You hurt her," you squeak.
Christian moves closer but keeps a steady distance. He notices you're beyond afraid; you're in disbelief. "It's not like how it sounds. Not everything is as it seems. I want you to hear me out."
"No," you breathe.
He doesn't flinch. He barely seems surprised. He's not begging but he's not angry. He's nothing. He's emotionless. Why wouldn't you believe the bad over the good?
"Madison," he whispers after a moment with soft eyes at the brink of imploring you.
"Why should I believe you?" you ask. He doesn't reply. "If I'm nothing to you, what are you to me?" And just like that, defeat. You feel yourself welling, tears begin to stream down your burning cheeks. You sniff and straighten up. "I should go."
YOU ARE READING
Fifty Shades of BLACK SILK
FanfictionA Vanity Fair writer does what it takes to get the biggest scoop! Written for Cosmopolitan.com's 50 Shades of Grey contest! ~My heart slowed down when we got to his high-rise. I didn't ask questions. I didn't wonder why we were here and not my apart...
