Fifty Shades of BLACK SILK

BLACK SILK: Part 31

Christian and I sat at the plush stools at the kitchen table as we watched the chef make our food in parts and we ate in succession. A French chef making Japanese for two American's was on the menu tonight, and I couldn't feel more overdressed as I wore my blush, pink sequined Oscar De La Renta dress with equally sparkly strappy heels. We had to be going elsewhere later tonight, otherwise this look would be a total waste.

"Everything tonight is shared between us," Christian said.

Why though? I'm starving. "Goody."

Christian laughed when he glimpsed my frown. "Don't worry, there's plenty for two. Plenty for a whole family, honestly."

I scrunched my nose. "Don't tell me your family is coming."

"No. But would that be so bad?"

I shook my head. "No. I just don't want to be having the conversation."

"Hmm?"

"You know..." I tilted my head from side to side.

Christian mimicked my head tilts. "No..."

I chuckled and turned red. "I just don't want to be having the 'what am I to you?' conversation."

"I don't think you would. They've accepted my fate as the ultimate bachelor with supposed sleazy contracts."

I winced and narrowed my eyes. "Do you regret revealing so much to the world?"

Christian popped a jalapeño-dressed yellowtail fish into his mouth and sighed. "I try not to dwell on regrets. Because they don't do me any good."

I slouched in a $6000 outfit feeling like five bucks. "I wish I could do the same."

He stared at me for moment. "I wish my family didn't see. It hurt them a little. They think it's an empty life devoid of any human emotions."

"What did you say?"

He shrugged. "That it was human nature for people to do things like this, it's just not talked about as much, and I can see why it isn't. I guess, to some people, it's embarrassing or painful to admit this lifestyle. Either way, I like the control. People don't understand the control aspect. They think it comes from a dark place. A horrible place. Just because I had a rough childhood, it doesn't make me who I am today. On the contrary, in despite of my rough childhood, I am who I am today."

After the yellowtail, we were onto warm herbed and pineapple-dressed prawns. They were sweet and delicious, and I gulped faster than I could chew.

"Sometimes I dwell on things to the point where I can't breathe," I admitted, shamefully.

"Really?"

I nodded. "I get actual physiological responses to my anxiety."

"Have you been to a doctor?"

"I have but I don't want to be doped up on medication all the time. I'm thankful in the fact that my anxiety isn't so crippling and can't function properly in society but cursed in that it's not bad enough to warrant numbing with medication. Just breathing exercises and stuff. I'm a ruminative thinker."

"A dweller."

"Indeed."

"What are the things occupying your mind now?"

I giggled. "Are you my acting psychiatrist for the moment?"

Christian nodded and straightened up. "Yes, and if we go for more than three hours I'm going to have to charge you interest," he winked.

I blushed and looked down after peeking at chef Francoise. Christian has no shame.

"I think about work, friends, family. Existential and profound questions of the being." I put a hand on my chest and made like Socrates on the last one.

"Nihilistic ones too, no doubt," he teased.

"No doubt," I agreed, jokingly.

"You'll find other work, I'm sure. You're too talented not to; people would be crazy not to hire you."

I sighed. "I've never been at any other job. I forgot what it's like to search for other jobs. Besides, I'm not sure Kimberly will be a good reference considering how we left things."

"You can always use me," Christian said, sipping his wine.

My brows cinched to the middle. "Use you for what?"

"As a reference."

He said it so matter-factly I burst out laughing. I stopped short when I realised he wasn't laughing with me.

"Oh, you're serious," I blinked like a cartoon.

"My name holds weight. It wouldn't be so bad."

"I think it would."

"Why? Why are you so resistant to receiving help?"

"It's not help I don't want, it's help from you that I don't want." I bit my bottom lip. "And I mean that in that best possible way, if there even is one."

We each had a bento box with a chocolate fondue cake, goji berries and a matcha ice-cream. I've died and gone to heaven.

"Are one of the things that occupy your thoughts me?"

I gulped loudly. The goji berries tasted sharper and tangier, and the thick, creamy, oozing chocolate from the cake burned my throat. I placed a closed fist against my lips and coughed.

"Umm—" I contemplated lying for a moment— "yes." The word came out sounding like a snake hissing, although it was supposed to sound a lot less menacing; not menacing at all, in fact.

Christian hadn't touched his bento boxed dessert yet. He turned to chef Francoise and uttered a few words in French. I assumed he was commanding Francoise away because he nodded once and walked towards the front doors of his apartment. He grabbed a bulky manila folder and shoved it under his arm before leaving the apartment.

"I guess dessert has ended," I said, slapping my hands on my bare lap and it echoed louder than I expected.

Christian smiled devilishly. "Not exactly."

I turned bright red and avoided his gaze. "Funny."

Christian huffed a little chuckle. "Madison."

"Hmm?"

"I want to be honest with you about why I brought you here."