Fifty Shades of BLACK SILK

BLACK SILK: Part 29

"Okay, Mr High-and-Mighty," I said and crossed my legs, "what is it that you want to talk to me about?"

"Why did you leave?"

"Leave what?"

"My apartment. I woke up the next morning and you weren't there."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know I had to ask your permission. I wasn't exactly shackled to the bed."

He half-smiled with a brooding intensity remaining that his jaw ticked. "Don't play games with me."

"Honestly, Christian, I know what that night meant to you, and I seriously don't want to go into just how much you don't care..." I let my voice trail off because I was going to say that he didn't care for me. But the closer I got to uttering the words, they began to feel stale and sour on my tongue, so much so that they crackled down to dust and disappeared. I'm sure he knew what I meant.

Christian tilted his head and held my gaze, calm and collected, with all the brute force of a feather. He leaned back in his chair, commanding the room as always. I long for the day where Christian walked into a room and my heart didn't drop to the floor; where I could glance into the stormy night of his almond eyes and challenge him with nothing but a raucous sea, perhaps too strong for him to handle. I long for the day where I'm not looking up at Christian, but straight at him, levelled and stoic in the same tone his broad shoulders and puffed chest expressed.

I wonder if he ever sees me. Like, really see me. When he looks at me does he see article writer for Vanity Fair, or does he see Madison, another small girl with big dreams trying to get by just like everyone else? Am I number to him? Another, brown-haired, fair-skinned girl with rosy cheeks and an obsession with clean nails. Another Snow White, about to bite the apple?

I sighed. "I'm not playing games with you." I looked down and shook my head. "This is just all so hard for me."

"It's not supposed to be." We paused for a moment. "What's on your mind right now?"

"I'm thinking of quitting here," I blurted.

"Why?"

I shrugged, this time a little tired from all the intensity that could generate a force field. "It's a good place." It's just got not so good people. I bit my bottom lip. "I want to write. I want to do more."

"Then write. What's stopping you?"

It was true. I want to be a writer. Ever since I was a little girl I dreamed of rivalling the likes of Emily Bronte and Philip Pullman; A.S Byatt and Alice Sebold. I wanted to discover these people within the stacks of manuscripts as well. Reading story upon story about the far-reaching realms, and ones close to home. And I wanted to be a part of it, in more ways than one. Vanity Fair had started out as a detour but quickly turned my internship into promotion after promotion. I'm not complaining, in fact I'm grateful and glad for this experience, but I had never felt the need to move on more than right now.

"It's not easy."

"I can talk to some people."

I narrowed my eyes. "It's so easy for you, isn't it? You can just talk to someone."

"I'm helping you out."

"I don't need your help!" I said, harshly. "I'm sorry, I just. It's too much."

"What's too much?"

How you could love me one minute and discard me the next.

I closed my eyes. "Everything."

"Madison, look at me."

"I don't want to," I mumbled.

"Are you disobeying me?" he asked playfully.

I chuckled and forced myself to pick my eyes off the floor and looked at him. "There."

"I have needs and wants, but it's not fun if you want them and need them also."

"Is that what this is? Fun?"

"Something like that."

I breathed out, now swivelling in my chair back and forth, like a child waiting patiently for it all to end. "My mistake. I thought it was all about you."

"And you."

"And me? Or many?"

His nostrils flared as he breathed out with frustration, his jaw ticking once and twice more. "What is it that you want?"

My eyes welled up. I knew the answer and stopped spinning around in my chair. It was painful to come to this realisation, but it was going to be more painful if I continued any longer.

"I don't want this," I whispered.

"What?"

I shook my head. "I'd rather be the one to someone, than one of many."

I started to stand when he reached out his hand. "Wait. Come with me."

"Christian," I whimpered. I couldn't take it anymore.

I watched his Adam's apple flow as he gulped. "Please."

***Should she stand her ground and leave alone, or go with him to whatever he has in mind?***