BOOK IV Complete

And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation. Khalil Gibran

BOOK IV CHAPTER I HOUR OF SEPARATION

As I pour myself a double shot of Bourbon, my Blackberry buzzes again. My heart stops and lurches with anxiety. Is it Ana? *It was good to see you. I understand now. Don’t fret. You’ll make a wonderful father.* It was Elena. I don’t respond back. I meant what I said to her. I said my farewell. I don’t know if she really understands, but it’s been over between us for a long time. I needed to say my peace. I down my drink in my glass and pour myself a triple shot this time. I can’t call Anastasia. I’m still mad, but I’m also feeling empty and missing her terribly. What do I want? What does any man who willingly gets drunk want? Memory loss: my current mission is reaching this free prize at the bottom of my Bourbon bottle.

When I finally reach my free prize at the bottom of the bottle, I feel woozy, a little incoherent, and things seem to be coming in twos at me. The two waiters are standing in front of me with the bill. I take out my wallet. My fingers attempt to retrieve the money or credit card whichever I can grasp. Money decides to come out easier. It looks like I have four $100 bills. “How much do I owe you?” I ask my speech slurred. I look at the bill but the numbers seem to walk away and change sizes to my blurry vision. I can’t see a damn thing. Both of the waiters who look remarkably like twins with each other extend their hands for the bill. One of them finally manages to grasp it to check the number for me. “It’s $183 Dollars sir.” I take the cash and slap it on the table. “Two for the bill, and one for each of you. Tttippp,” I slur. My mind can’t do math right now. “Each of us, sir?” “Yeah, for you, and you…” I say pointing to each waiter. They both smile with identical grins. “Thank you, sir. We appreciate your generosity.” I stand up on my feet, but I feel the floor calling me. I hold onto the table to steady myself then make my way to the door. The cool air hits me in the face as soon as I step outside and momentarily I feel a little steadier. Now, which direction was my house? I look around. “Hey, my man! Do you a have smoke?” asks another fellow drunk. I pat my chest with my hands. “Nope, fresh out.” “Thanks, all the same,” he says with his breath smelling like cheap beer. He salutes me with his index and middle finger and walks away with unsteady steps. I think I can walk home if I can just make to each light pole without falling down. Yes, that’s seems like a good goal to me. Now, I try to walk to the next light pole that looks like more than 100 feet away. I might have to use the park benches, and building walls to make it there. Change of goals: make it to the next building wall and then to the light pole.

Anastasia is pregnant. I knocked her up. Shit! That means I won’t get to have sex with her. Damn! I still didn’t get the free prize. No memory loss! Hey, goal number 1 is complete. I made it to the next light pole without falling. Now I have to turn the corner. Two light poles distance. I live at Escala. How many light poles away is the building? “Taylor!” I yell. But he doesn’t answer. Oh yeah. He’s not here. He’s home, safe with Gail. He didn’t knock her up. He can safely have sex. Not Christian. Christian is going to be a dad. A terrible dad. Oh God! I’m sick! I double; my back to the light pole. My stomach tightens, and heaves. Huh, Anastasia hurled like that in that bar. It was the first night I slept with her. Anastasia... I have to get home to her. I stand straight. No puking. I walk the distance of three other light poles, very... very slowly. The ground isn’t steady. It moves and dances under my feet. It’s a balancing act to get home. I finally see the building straight ahead. Maybe four more light poles. One light pole… Two light poles… Three light poles, and four… Home free! I push the door. It doesn’t open. I push more. It doesn’t open. The doorman rushes. When he sees me, he takes a second look and pushes the door open, and I pull it. I knew that! “Mr. Grey! Good evening… I mean good morning sir.” “Morning? What time is it?” I slur. He checks his watch. “It’s 1:30 a.m. sir.” I walk in, and the door man comes after me, and calls the elevator. “What’s your name?” “Sebastian, sir.” “Yes, I knew that.” When the elevator doors ding open, I walk in, trying not to stumble. Sebastian holds the door for me. I salute him like my fellow drunk saluted me. “Good morning to you, too…Seb… Seb…” “Sebastian, sir.” “Sebastian.” The door closes to Sebastian’s dumbfounded face. It takes me two tries to enter my code on the panel. The elevator takes me up with the speed of light velocity, or

at least that’s how it feels to me. I’m shaken like a rotten egg. When it reaches to my penthouse, it stops and the doors open. I fumble with my keys. I walk in to the foyer, and hit myself to the table that walked right into me! “Shit!” I try to move away, but the table follows me scraping on the floor. “Shit!” I say again pushing it away. Leave me alone! There are double doors ahead of me, and I push them open. Someone, some angel runs toward me. “Christian, are you okay?” she asks. Oh, that’s my knocked up wife! My seductive angel. “Mrs. Grey,” I greet her in a slurred speech. Shees! She looks better than an angel. She looks like she’s in a 1930s style satin nightdress. Looks like a classic beauty. Soft to touch. Warm to hold, and die to fuck!

“Oh…” I’d love to do that. “You look might fine, Anastasia.” “Where have you been?” she asks. I put my fingers to my lips and smile.

“Shhh!” I warn her. She’ll wake someone up. Oh, yes, the baby. Then we won’t have any peace and quiet.

“I think you’d better come to bed,” she says. “With you…” I snicker. I’d go to hell with her. All she has to do is to ask. She frowns at me. She’s beautiful even when she frowns. “Let me help you to bed. Lean on me.” “You are very beautiful, Ana,” I say and lean on her. The whiff of her scent hits me like a truckload of bricks. I inhale her scent. She wobbles on her feet. Is she drunk? “Christian, walk. I am going to put you to bed.” “Okay,” I say. Bed. It’s not as far as a light pole. I can make it. Concentrate Christian. She stumbles through the corridor supporting me. “Bed,” I say grinning. Bed. What I’d like to do to her in bed. Or here… in the hallway. No, not in the hallway. She doesn't feel steady on her feet. “Yes, bed,” she says as she maneuvers me to the edge, but I hold her. I love holding her. Does she know that? She makes me feel safe. Whole. “Join me,” I say. I’m awake. I think… “Christian, I think you need some sleep.” Oh, no. She’s saying ‘no’ to me! She’s never going to have sex with me. It’s the baby. She doesn’t want me. She just wants the baby. “And so it begins. I’ve heard about this.” I say, sorrowful.

She frowns. “Heard about what?” she asks. “Babies mean no sex.” “I’m sure that’s not true. Otherwise we’d all come from one-child families.” I gaze down at her. “You’re funny.” “You’re drunk.” “Yes,” I say, smiling. But wait, I didn’t forget. I couldn’t. She’s still pregnant. I’m going to be a terrible dad. I’ve nothing to offer.

“Come on, Christian,” she says softly. Her voice just soothes me. “Let’s get you into bed.” She pushes me gently and I flop on to the bed. My arms and legs spread open. She’s standing by my feet, looking like a sex goddess. “Join me,” I say. My voice comes out slurred; words are hard to get out of my mouth. “Let’s get you undressed first.” Undressed… Now that’s the idea. I grin. Christian might get lucky after all. “Now you’re talking,” I say playfully. “Sit up. Let me take your jacket off.” I sit up, but the bedroom feels like a gyroscope. Getting in and out of focus. I flop back down. “The room is spinning,” I complain. “Christian, sit up!” she orders me. I like that. She takes charge. I smirk up at her. “Mrs. Grey, you are a bossy little thing…”

“Yes. Do as you’re told and sit up,” she commands putting her hand on her hips. After two attempts I locate my elbows and struggle to sit up on them. She grabs my ties, and undoes it. But she won’t pull it off. Then she saddles me and pulls my jacket off my arms. I get a whiff of her delectable scent again. “You smell good.” “You smell of hard liquor.” “Yes…” I say proudly. “Bour-bon.” Her hands drop my jacket somewhere, and she puts her hands on my tie. My hands are resting on her hips. Oh, the soft, silky feeling of the fabric. “I like the feel of this fabric on you, Anastay-shia… You should always be in satin or silk.” I run my hands on the smooth fabric up and down on her hips then jerk her forward, and press my mouth against her belly where the tiny trespasser resides. “And we have an invader in here.” “You’re going to keep me awake, aren’t you?” I ask Junior. And take my wife away, no doubt. I look up at my wife again. She’s been mine all this time. I don’t want to share her, and now I won’t have a choice. She will only want him. “You’ll choose him over me,” I say forlorn. She will. And I will never be the center of her world again. My Anastasia will be his. She won’t want me. “Christian, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Don’t be ridiculous… I’m not choosing anyone over anyone. And he might be a she.” Shit! I never considered that! A girl! “A she…Oh. God!” I flop back on the bed, and cover my eyes with my arms. If she’s anything like Anastasia, and if she has boys running after her… Oh shit! I can’t think. I can’t. I should sleep. I’m too tired to think. Exhausted. Sleep…. Yes, sleep. The room spins once more even though my eyes closed. But, the heavy darkness of sleep slowly pulls its blanket over me, and I’m out.

*****❦ ♡ ❧*****

I have a lingering pounding headache as if someone untalented is practicing drums inside my head. How much did I drink? I finished the bottle of wine, and the bourbon. There’s only the seeping light from the window, but even that is bothering me. My hand travels to the pillow next to me, but it’s undisturbed, and cold. I sit up abruptly, and feel like I hit my head to the wall. Where’s Anastasia? Fuck! She’s not here! She isn’t here. Did she get up early? Is she in the bathroom? I jump out of bed, and look around. Nothing is disturbed in the room. My jacket is off. So is my tie. My shoes and socks are taken off. I don’t remember taking them off. But I don’t remember much about last night. Fucking free prize of memory loss now finds me! “Ana!” I call, but she doesn’t answer. I rush out to the living room, and there’s no sign of her. Mrs. Jones is in the kitchen. “Gail, have you seen Ana this morning?” “No, Mr. Grey. Not since last night.” “What?” “I only saw her last night after you left, sir…” she says her face takes a fearful expression. “What happened? What did she say?” “Not much. She was crying and wanted to have white wine,” she says and I wince, “but decided on a cup of tea instead. She didn’t eat, just took her tea and went to the library. That was the last time I saw her, Mr. Grey,” she says with a worried look on her face. Oh shit! She may have gone to stay with Kate. I run to my bedroom to get my cell phone. I turn it on, and there’s a text message from Anastasia. My heart stops. Oh, God! She left me! I find myself collapsing onto the bed with my Blackberry in my hand, and open her message up with shaky hands. *WOULD YOU LIKE MRS. LINCOLN TO JOIN US WHEN WE EVENTUALLY DISCUSS THIS TEXT SHE SENT TO YOU? IT WILL SAVE YOU RUNNING TO HER AFTERWARD. YOUR WIFE* FW: *It was good to see you. I understand now. Don’t fret. You’ll make a wonderful father.*

Shit! Shit! Shit! “Anaaaa!” I call out, but no response comes. I dial her cell phone number. It rings and rings, and goes to her voice-mail Breathe! Breathe! Breathe! I don’t leave a message. I hang up and dial again. It rings ominously. I walk around to see if I can hear Your Love is King, but nothing is heard. It goes to voice mail again. “Ana! Where are you? I’m worried about you. Please…” my voice goes to a whisper. “Call me. I’ll come and get you.” I hang up, and with shaky hands I dial Katherine Kavanagh’s phone. When she answers the phone, she sounds groggy. “Hello? Who the hell is this at this hour?” she replies miffed. “It’s Christian Grey,” I say through gritted teeth. Is she tired because Ana woke her up at night? Did she pick her up from Escala? “Christian? What’s wrong? Is Elliot okay?” she asks immediately. “How the hell shall I know about Elliot? I’m calling you about Ana. Is she there with you?” “Why would she be here with me?” she asks confused, and then her voice turns icy. “Did you do something to her? Or maybe I should ask this instead: What have you done to her?” she is suddenly wide awake. “I’m looking for my wife, and I haven’t done anything. We had an argument last night, and I can’t find her this morning. I want to know if she’s with you or not. Is she there with you?” I ask menacingly. “Why would I tell you if she was?” “God damn it Kate! I’m worried about my wife! If you have an ounce of concern for your friend, you would tell me if she is with you or not so I can go look for her and find her!” I shout. “She isn’t here! Geez! Why is she…”she starts saying, but I hang up on her. She isn’t with Kate. God! Where would she go? “Taylor!” I shout as I dash out of my room and dial Anastasia’s cell phone once more. When it goes to voice-mail again I hang up. Taylor, Sawyer and Ryan are already

assembled in the living room and waiting for me. I’m completely shaking as if there’s an earthquake. “Mrs. Grey is missing,” I say swallowing. “Has any of you seen her this morning? Taylor?” “No, I haven’t sir. Not since last night,” he replies. I start breathing through my nose like raged bull. “Sawyer? Did you see her last night? Or did she come and ask you to give her a ride someplace?” “No sir. The last I saw her was yesterday after she got off work and we all came home,” he says dumbfounded. My eyes turn towards Ryan. “I haven’t seen her at all. Yesterday or today, sir,” he replies completely chagrined. I start breathing heavily. The clothes I'm wearing from yesterday are wrinkled. My shirt is unbuttoned, my tie is missing. I feel my hands automatically flying to my face, and rubbing forcefully over my face and into my hair. My fingers clump and pull my hair on their trail. My heart is beating so fast, I can feel it in my throat. I shake as if I am left in freezing weather. I try to steady myself. “Mr. Grey,” Taylor says calmly. “We have to look for her. Let’s look for her in the house first,” he turns to Sawyer and Ryan taking charge. He starts with an efficient and authoritative voice. “Leave no door unopened. Ryan and Sawyer, you take this level. I will go with Mr. Grey. If you can find her, call me immediately and if we can’t find her, let’s assemble back here. Understand?” he orders. “Yes, sir,” says Ryan and Sawyer and disappear immediately. “Gail, you remain in the kitchen area. If Mrs. Grey comes back, keep her here, and let us know,” he orders her. She nods. “Mr. Grey, let’s go, sir,” he says and we start looking for her all over my bedroom. My jacket and tie are on the floor. We go to the closet, but I don’t see any clothes having been packed, or no empty shelves, or coat hangers. Did she just leave with the clothes on her back? I so vaguely remember what we talked about. What did I say to her last night after I got home? What did we do? Gail said she went to the library. I rush to the library, and there sits her empty tea cup, but nothing else. There’s no telltale sign that she spent the night in the library. I run to

the Play Room. The door is locked. “Ana! Anaaaa!” I call out to her. I rattle the door handle, but it doesn’t open. If it’s locked, she wouldn’t be here. We search the entire level to no avail. I dial her phone number one last time. “For God’s sake! Please, answer the phone. Let’s talk,” I plead and hang up. We get back downstairs and Ryan, Sawyer, Gail are already assembled waiting. Taylor joins in their ranks. I walk back and forth before them anxiously. I finally stand before them. “It appears that Mrs. Grey isn’t home. I want you to have no stone unturned. Check the security cameras, and video feed from last night. See when she left. Also check the video feeds from the exit cameras to the garage, to the entry and all exit points of the building. See where she went, who she went with, and what time. We need establish a starting point so we can go look for her at the right place. Sawyer, you’re in charge of examining the video feed. Start with the camera trained over the elevators, and Sawyer, you and…” I say without finishing my sentence because everyone’s eyes immediately trained on someone who is behind me. I turn around. My eyes are wide, worried and anxious. There stands Anastasia wrapped in a duvet, one hand clutching her purse. She looks beautiful, innocent, and damned angry still. I gaze back at her wide blue eyes. Fear finally leaves place to anger. Where has she been? Who did she go to? Did she come from outside? Why didn’t we see her? Was she home all along? She says nothing to me though her gaze scans my disheveled appearance in my day old clothes. “Sawyer, I’ll be ready to leave in about twenty minutes,” she mutters and wraps her duvet around her tighter as if she’s using it as a shield against me. Sawyer nods at her, and immediately I feel the intensity of the gazes of my security personnel on me. My eyes are on Anastasia, unblinking. I fear that if I blink, she’ll disappear. “Would you like some breakfast, Mrs. Grey?” Gail asks. Anastasia shakes her head in response. “I’m not hungry, thank you,” she replies. “Where were you?” I ask her finally finding my voice. It’s low, husky, and demanding. I hear rather than see Taylor, Sawyer, Ryan and Gail scatter around to their particular corners and offices to leave us alone; not wanting to face the music that is about to be composed between Anastasia and I. Anastasia completely ignores me and she marches towards our bedroom. “Ana! Answer me,” I say calling after her. I walk behind her in rapid footsteps into the bedroom, but she makes her way to the bathroom, and locks the door behind her. “Ana!!” I shout pounding on the door with my fists. “Ana, open the damned door!”

“Go away!” she shouts. “I’m not going anywhere.” “Suit yourself,” she replies. “Ana, please,” I beg. “Please open the door,” I say, but I hear the water running. She doesn’t reply. “Ana, let me explain. Talk to me.” But my voice is effectively blocked out with the sound of the water. I lean against the wall opposite to the door with my hands behind my back and wait for her to finish her shower. She stays in the shower for nearly twenty minutes. When she finally unlocks the door to face me, I’m extremely wary; timid. I feel like a cornered lion. She walks passed me as if I don’t exist, and makes her way into the walk-in closet. “Are you ignoring me?” I ask in complete incredulity. She gets pregnant because she didn’t get her shot even though we agreed on not having children this soon, and she’s mad at me and ignoring me! “Perceptive, aren’t you?” she murmurs sarcastically without even looking at me. She searches for something to wear in the closet. She picks her plum dress, my favorite dress, her high black stiletto boots, and makes her way to the bedroom. When she comes face to face with me, she pauses for me to move out of her way, determined. I finally make way for her, losing my fight against the gentleman in me. Anastasia makes her way to the dresser. From the mirror perched on the dresser she peeks at me as I'm standing in the doorway. I keep watching her, motionless. Unable to walk forward or backwards. There’s nothing I want more than to hold my wife, and she’s so distant; treating me like a stranger. As Anastasia’s eyes are locked on me, she drops her towel covering her naked body. Her naked beauty makes me gasp but I attempt to restrain it. She is gorgeous. But she ignores what the sight of her does to me.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask in a low voice. “Why do you think?” she replies in a deceptively soft voice, and opening a drawer she chooses and pulls out a black lace La Perla panties. “Ana-“ I make to move towards her but stop as she shimmies into her panties. “Go ask your Mrs. Robinson. I’m sure she’ll have an explanation for you,” she mutters as she searches for something. God damn it! I don’t want to have anything to do with Elena! I broke all ties with her last night.

“Ana, I’ve told you before, she’s not my…” I say but she cuts me off. “I don’t want to hear it, Christian,” she says waving her hand to me dismissively. “The time for talking was yesterday, but instead you decided to rant and get drunk with the woman who abused you for years. Give her a call. I’m sure she’ll be more than willing to listen to you now,” she shouts at me. Then pulls her matching bra out of the drawer and puts it on and fastens it. I walk further into the bedroom my hands on my hips accusingly. Why was she looking for something to blame me with? Had she lost her trust in me? Was that why she was snooping? Let’s see what Christian was doing when he was getting drunk, ten fucking sheets to the wind.

She flushes in response. “That’s not the point, Christian,” she scolds me. “Fact is, going gets tough and you run to her.” That’s not how it happened. I didn’t seek her out. My mouth falls into a grim line. “It wasn’t like that,” I start explaining. “I’m not interested,” she dismisses me as she picks up a pair of black thigh highs with lacy tops. She walks to the bed, sitting on it, and pointing her toe outward; she pulls the stockings and gently pulls the delicate material over her long legs.

The gnawing question that’s killing me right now is, where did she go last night? “Where were you?” I ask, my gaze never leaving her hands traveling up on her legs. But she pretends I don’t exist and continue. She puts her other stockings on. The stands up, and bending down, she starts towel drying her hair. My gaze never leaves her body. When she’s done towel drying her hair, she stands back to the dresser, and grabs her hair dryer. “Answer me,” I say in a low and hoarse voice after she ignores me quite a while. She turns the hair dryer on, and continues ignoring me as she dries her hair, sorting the strands with her fingers. I glare at her with narrowed eyes. She is unbelievable! She is the one who didn’t get the shot. She’s the one who got pregnant despite having had many talks about birth-control. She knows how freaked I get about this! She knows that I’m freaked out right now. Yet, she chooses to ignore me. When she turns the dryer off, I ask again. “Where were you?” My tone is a chilling, low whisper. “What do you care?” she shouts. “Ana, stop this. Now,” I order. She just shrugs, and I move quickly across from the other side of the room towards her. As I reach out to her, she whirls and steps back. “Don’t touch me,” she hisses, making me freeze in my tracks. Why couldn’t I touch her? She’s my wife. My woman… “Where were you?” I ask demanding. It’s eating me up alive. My hands fists on my side. Was she with someone else? Jose? Ethan? Who? Was someone else comforting her while I got myself wallowed up in my own fucking misery? “I wasn’t out getting drunk with my ex,” she seethes. “Did you sleep with her?” she asks in an accusatory tone, making me gasp. How could she possibly think that? I would never cheat on her. “What? No!” I gape at her. It wounds and pains me to think that she could even consider the possibility of me cheating on her. This makes me angry. “You think I’d cheat on you?” I ask outraged. “You did,” she roars, “by taking our very private life and spilling your spineless guts to that woman.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. She thinks I’m dishonorable? I’m a lot of things, but I would never consider cheating on my wife. Does my own wife think of me so worthless? “Spineless?” I breathe. “That’s what you think?” I have to know. My eyes are volcanoes, heated. “Christian, I saw the text. That’s what I know.” “That text was not meant for you,” I growl in response. “Well, fact is I saw it when your Blackberry fell out of your jacket while I was undressing you because you were too drunk to undress yourself. Do you have any idea how much you’ve hurt me by going to see that woman?” she asks. I pale in her epiteth. I made a mistake, because I’m a fucking idiot. I was mad, and I’m still mad, because she’s not giving me a chance to explain. The fact is, when she gets mad, she gets in a roll, and pick up her baton, and runs with it. “Do you remember last night when you came home? Remember what you said?” What the hell did I say? I’m frozen momentarily. I stare at her blankly because I don’t remember jack shit. I must have royally fucked up, because she’s totally pissed. “Well, you were right. I do choose this defenseless baby over you. That’s what any loving parent does. That’s what your mother should have done for you. And I’m sorry that she didn’t… Because we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now if she had. But you’re an adult now... you need to grow up and smell the fucking coffee and stop behaving like a petulant adolescent. “You may not be happy about this baby. I’m not ecstatic, given the timing and your less than lukewarm reception to this new life, this flesh of your flesh. But you can either do this with me, or I’ll do it on my own. The decision is yours. While you wallow in your pit of self-pity and self-loathing, I’m going to work. And when I return, I’ll be moving my belongings to the room upstairs.” I blink in complete shock. Is she leaving me? She is leaving me! Oh God! She’s breaking up! “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to finish getting dressed,” she says breathing hard.

I feel like she just slapped me. I take a step back, looking at her, my demeanor hardened. “Is this what you want?” I whisper. She wants to be away from me, away from our relationship. “I don’t know what I want any more,” she says fervently, her expression mirroring mine. She turns her back to me, dips her fingers into her moisturizer and gently rubs it in over her face. She peers into the mirror, checking her flushed face with wide eyes. I can’t take the idea that she doesn’t want me in her life. “You don’t want me?” I whisper. “I’m still here aren’t I?” she snaps at me. She takes her mascara tube and taking the brush, she applies it over her eyelashes. She must have been thinking about this since yesterday if she came to that conclusion now. “You’ve thought about leaving?” I ask as my heart squeezing tightly into a knot. I can’t live without her! I am desperate for her. Can’t she see that? “When one’s husband prefers the company of his ex-mistress, it’s usually not a good sign,” she says with disdain in her tone. Then she applies her lip gloss. My eyes are on her, and I haven’t touched her since yesterday morning. It’s been about 24 hours. The short literal, but miles apart virtual distance is killing me. She picks up her boots, and strolls over to the bed, and sitting on the side of the bed, she puts her boots on, tugging them up to her knees. She’s just in her underwear and her boots. And I’m fucking frustrated, hot for her, desirous, and she won’t have me. She doesn’t want to have anything with me. Or does she? Is this a tactic for her win her argument? She’s a good negotiator. A tough one. Anastasia can bring any man to her knees. She’s about to do that to me. But, I have my own set of tactics I can employ. “I know what you’re doing here,” I murmur in a warm, seductive voice. She has zero resistance to my seduction. I know her better she knows herself. “Do you?” she squeaks her voice cracking. It’s the first chink in her armor. I swallow, taking a chance, I step forward. She steps back holding her hand up to half my advance. “Don’t even think about it, Grey,” she hisses menacingly.

“You’re my wife,” I counter softly, contentiously. I want what’s mine. She is mine; my wife, my woman. “I’m the pregnant woman you abandoned yesterday, and if you touch me I will scream the place down.” My eyebrows rise in incredulity. “You’d scream?” I ask, hoarsely. “Bloody murder,” she counters, narrowing her eyes, not backing down. “No one would hear you,” I murmur, my gaze intense, passionate. Please let me touch you. The only way I know how to resolve problems is in bed, Ana. “Are you trying to frighten me?” she mutters breathless, scared. What? No! I’m only trying to communicate with her the only way I know how. And she won’t let me. “That wasn’t my intention,” I say frowning. Her chest is heaving up and down with short breaths. “I had a drink with someone I used to be close to. We cleared the air. I am not going to see her again.” “You sought her out?” she asks, wounded. “Not at first. I tried to see Flynn. But I found myself at the salon.” “And you expect me to believe you’re not going to see her again?” she hisses with pure fury. “What about the next time I step across some imaginary line? This is the same argument we have over and over again. Like we’re on some Ixion’s wheel. If I fuck up again, are you going to run back to her?” “I am not going to see her again,” I say with a petrifying decisiveness. “She finally understands how I feel.” She just blinks at me. “What does that mean?” I straighten and run my hand through my hair completely exasperated, anger rising in me, and I’m completely silent. Because she tells me to talk about what happened, but she’s unwilling to listen. She’s angry, and she’s running with her conclusions, and not hearing me out. We’re not resolving anything because our anxieties are running high. “Why can you talk to her and not to me?”

“I was mad at you. Like I am now,” I growl. “You don’t say!” she snaps. “Well, I am mad at you right now. Mad at you for being so cold and callous yesterday when I needed you. Mad at you for saying I got knocked up deliberately, when I didn’t. Mad at you for betraying me,” she says her voice choking at the end. Her declaration shocks me as if she kicked me in the groin and slapped me at the same time, making me flinch. I never betrayed her. I know I behaved like an ass, but she doesn’t listen to me, and she isn’t listening to me now. I’m rudderless when I’m around her. She takes all my control away. What the hell am I supposed to do? How do I express myself? She swallows, getting ready to say something. “I should have kept better track of my shots. But I didn’t do it on purpose. This pregnancy is a shock to me, too,” she mutters. “It could be that the shot failed.” I glared at her wordlessly. Of course it fucking failed. It has an expiration date. A date and time where it runs out of her system! That’s why she has to take her shot at the prescribed date. “You really fucked up yesterday,” she whispers, with fury. “I’ve had a lot to deal with over the last few weeks.” “You really fucked up three or four weeks ago. Or whenever you forgot your shot,” I hiss back. “Well, God forbid I should be perfect like you!” she shouts glowering. I glower back at her. We stand silently like this for a few minutes. “This is quite a performance, Mrs. Grey,” I whisper. She’s delivering it well, standing up to me, fighting toe to toe. “Well, I’m glad that even knocked up, I’m entertaining.” I stare at her blankly. She insists on taking me the wrong way. “I need a shower,” I murmur. “And I’ve provided enough of a floor show.”

“It’s a mighty fine floor show,” I whisper as I step forward. I want to hold her, touch her. If I just touch her, I know we can solve this, melt the glacier growing between us. I need her desperately right now. She immediately steps back. “Don’t,” she hisses menacingly. “I hate that you won’t let me touch you,” I whisper. I need her desperately. Can’t she see that? “Ironic, huh?” she mutters. I narrow my eyes again. I let her touch me. I worked on getting over my fear for her, and yet she’s denying me what’s mine. “We haven’t resolved much, have we?” “I’d say not. Except that I’m moving out of this bedroom.” What? Don’t do this to us, Ana! Why are you tearing us apart? My eyes flare and widen with fear briefly. “She doesn’t mean anything to me.” “Except when you need her.” “I don’t need her. I need you,” I plead with her. She must see that. She’s all I need. I want to be all she needs, too. “You didn’t yesterday. That woman is a hard limit for me, Christian.” “She’s out of my life.” All the man I need – Whitney Houston “I wish I could believe you,” she says with utter distrust, and that’s the knife that sticks to my heart. “For fuck’s sake, Ana.” “Please let me get dressed,” she says dismissing me. My heart is ripped out. Is this the end of us? I’m numb, desolate, bereft of feeling as if a tornado came and swept away everything and shuffled my life upside down. “I’ll see you this evening,” I say, with a flat voice, beaten, crushed. I head to the bathroom, and slowly close the door. Mechanically I take my clothes off, and turn the water on walking into the first cold then scalding hot water.

What are you doing to us, Ana? Why are you shredding us into pieces? Questions left unasked, words unspoken leave me choking, worried, and utterly spent. I slowly slide onto the shower floor and let the water wash me free of my sorrow. When I come out, Anastasia is gone, the bedroom has her lingering scent, but only so much to tell me she’s gone and away from me. I go out to the kitchen. Mrs. Jones is busy there. “Can I fix your breakfast now, Mr. Grey?” she asks. “Anastasia?” “She left with Sawyer for work a little bit ago,” she replies in a soft voice. “Did she eat breakfast?” I ask. “No, Mr. Grey,” she says shaking her head. “Can I fix you your usual breakfast, sir?” she asks hopeful. “Not today, Gail. I’ll eat later at work. Thank you,” I say softly. Taylor is waiting by the entrance for me. “Mrs. Grey was in the Playroom, sir,” he says without a preamble. I cock my head to the side quizzically. “How do you know?” “We’ve searched every room, every shelf in the room. The only room that was locked was the playroom. I went to check it, and it was unlocked. The key was still inside the door,” he replies. I quickly take the stairs to go to the playroom. Just as Taylor indicated, the door is still unlocked. I walk into the room and am greeted by the scent of soft leather, lemon and oil. When I hit the light switch, and the soft lights come on and illuminate the red room. Nothing is disturbed in the room. The only evidence that Anastasia has been in the room is the small dent she left on the chesterfield sofa. I softly caress it. I look around for another indication that she was here, but there is none. I walk towards the door, turn off the light, and get downstairs. Then taking my jacket, I nod to Taylor to follow

me, and we take off. The ride to the garage is quiet. We walk to the SUV in the same silence. As the garage gate is lifting, my Blackberry buzzes. I feel hopeful immediately thinking Anastasia is calling. But my face falls when I see the caller. “Hi Elliot,” I answer. “Were you able to find your wife this morning?” he asks. “I see that Kate called you. Yes, she’s at work right now.” “I hope she isn’t leaving you five minutes after you guys got married. Not that I’d blame her,” he says jokingly. “Fuck off Elliot! I’m not in the mood.” “Hey, bro. I'm sorry, don't be uptight. If you want to talk...” “Nothing to talk about. I’m sure you’ve had fights with your fiancée. Just a simple argument where she got mad at me, that’s all.” “Alright, Ana!” he whoops his cheer. “Look, I’m almost to work, and I’ve got a lot to do today. Talk to you later, Elliot,” I say and hang up. I just stare out the window as we stop on a red light. The people are running to and fro purposefully, getting on with their lives and businesses without knowing that only a few feet away from them someone’s heart is ripping apart, breaking into pieces, and they’re completely oblivious to my agony. When Taylor pulls into the Grey House parking lot, he drives to my reserved parking space. After he turns the vehicle off, he jumps out and opens my door. I ease out of the SUV and walk towards the elevators. The ride is silent again. When Andrea sees my stoic face, “good morning Mr. Grey,” she says without her usual cheer. “Coffee, sir?” she asks. “Yes,” I say as I walk into my office. I take to my seat and fire up my computer. Before I dive into work, I need to do one thing. Taking my Blackberry out, I scroll the numbers, and dial.

“Yes, Mr. Grey,” he answers. “Sawyer, how is Mrs. Grey?” “She was shaken and crying a little,” he answers, and I close my eyes in pain. “Did you get her something to eat?” “I asked but she said she wasn’t hungry,” he replies. My stubborn wife. The last time she went into her self-imposed hunger strike was when she broke up with me. She punishes us both. “Just in case, check on her throughout the day. I’m sure Taylor has informed you; Mrs. Grey is pregnant. She’ll need to eat, and needs to be careful.” “I’ll be sure to keep a close eye on her, sir,” he says. “Call me if she’s not well, or need anything.” “Yes, sir,” he replies. I take a deep breath, and look at Taylor, and Andrea walks in with my coffee. She puts the coffee before me, and takes out her iPad. “You have quite a few meetings today, Mr. Grey. The first meeting is with Finance. There are four things in the agenda with the meeting. The purchase funds, allocation of the base payroll, operational expenses, and the sale of Triway Electronics which is going to be finalized today. That meeting is at 2:00 p.m., sir,” she says and dives into my full load work schedule. For once, I’m grateful for a very busy day. It should leave me little time to bask in my own misery.

THE BAIL His phone rings softly playing the “Godfather Theme song”. Godfather Theme song “I thought I told you never to call me on this phone, he answers his phone curtly after verifying the caller.

“We may have the bail accepted as early as tomorrow,” he replies as if he hasn’t heard. “There was no other way to reach you this soon.” His eyes glower with excitement. He leans in as if he’s going to share a secret with the man on the phone.

“Fine… We will meet in one hour, the same place. I’ll have my instructions.” “And the payment is required plus ten percent for their trouble.” “I have it ready. And my terms are the same as ever. I hope you keep them in the forefront of your mind. If not, all involved will be dealt harshly.” “Yes,” he answers firmly. “See you then.” Well, well, well… he thinks to himself. It's time to fuck his oldest enemy up. Not oldest by age, but oldest by how long he has been brewing his revenge against him. Excitement is almost unbearable. He’s been feeding a fund for this very day for years, right in his own personal safe. It’s been his cash revenge fund. He’s put aside quite a lot. They don’t say ‘revenge is a dish best served cold,’ for no reason. It’s been properly kept on ice for six long years. He opens his safe, and puts the $10,000 bank straps each containing one hundred individual $100 bills. He counts twenty five straps for the bail. Then counts two and a half stacks and places it in an envelope. In a separate quadrant in the briefcase, he puts fifty other stacks methodically. With more than three quarters of a million Dollars, he leaves his place of business, and makes his way to the restaurant.

He enters the restaurant purposefully in his usual self-confident demeanor. The male host whose name tag read Tyler looks up smiling. “Good afternoon, sir. Do you have a reservation?” Tyler asks. “Yes. It’s under the name of Brioni.” “This way Mr. Brioni. Your party is waiting,” he says to lead him. “That won’t be necessary. I know my way around,” he says as he holds a hand to stop him. “I just wish to take you…” “Good for you, young man. No need to wish it. I can do my own walking,” he says as he stops Tyler with a domineering stare of his and turns to get to one of the reserved private rooms. “Mr. Brioni,” Tyler calls, and the man doesn’t answer as if it isn’t his name. “Sir,” he calls again, and the man in his impeccable suit turns this time with his forbidding gaze pinning him in place. “We are required to escort our patrons to their seats,” Tyler says in a small voice. “I don’t wish to be escorted. I know the way,” he enunciates. Tyler nods fearfully. The man who calls himself Brioni has a foreboding, threatening stare. Tyler knows that if the man had the opportunity he would be getting his own balls on a platter from this man. The suited man turns around and makes his way to his destination. “Mr. Brioni, my ass,” mutters Tyler under his breath. “What dumb mobster would name himself after the suit he’s wearing?” he whispers. ‘It’s not worth my life to find out,’ he thinks to himself. When the suited man enters the small dining room, Albert stands up to meet him. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Lincoln, I mean sir,” he says with a hidden sarcasm in his tone. “Sit, and cut the shit,” Lincoln order, and Albert obeys immediately. “I have pulled a lot of strings, and called in a lot of favors to make this happen, Mr. Lincoln. It’s not the easiest thing to do to go against one of the most respected businessmen in the state, not to mention one of the richest!” Albert replies as he sits in his seat.

“You’re getting paid for it. I’m in no mood to hear you bitch about it,” Lincoln says menacingly. “However, your payment will transact tomorrow after our man is freed just to ensure the end result,” Lincoln says. “Hyde is a psychopath. Revenge is clouding is his judgment. He has a big grudge against Grey, his wife and his father.” “His wife? What did the little cunt do? I assumed he was doing this to hurt Grey,” Lincoln says. This may just better serve his purpose. “Guess he tried to fuck her and it backfired on him. She kicked his balls.” “Well, well… Grey got himself a loyal wife,” Lincoln says contemplating. Wouldn’t it be the icing on the top to shatter his confidence in her? “I don’t know Mr. Lincoln. He is murderous. If Hyde gets his hands on her, he will torture her, and then kill her. He can’t leave a witness behind with what he has in mind. Grey has the means, resources and the motivation to find Hyde if he knows who fucked and tortured his wife.” “Then you make sure nothing points to us, and Hyde’s own ego and rage will serve our purpose.” “I don’t think we even have to tell him what to do. He’s itching to get his hands on her,” Albert says. “Be that as it may, I like to be in charge to ensure the desired outcome even if Hyde doesn’t know that I am. Now here’s what I want you to do. There is the bail money, and the 10% in the envelope to give our associates for their trouble for making the anonymous payment. The $500,000 is the first installment to Hyde to ensure he does what he is set out to do. He shall never know who I am. I want both his sister and his wife fucked, and tortured beyond repair. I want Grey to know that they suffered, and suffered greatly, all thanks to him. Hyde needs to clean up his trail, and be swift and decisive about it. And he can’t remain in the country for obvious reasons. Because he’ll be the suspect number one.” “Yes…” Albert says with a pregnant silence. “What?” Lincoln snaps. “Are you sure this is wise?”

“Wise? Don’t you grow a fucking conscience on me! Call it public service, divine intervention in which you get paid handsomely. No trail leading to you, because all transaction is handled in cash.” “Yes,” says Albert. Fuck! The blonde mistress’ tits alone are worth the trouble he was going to go through. This small side endeavor would fund his personal project handsomely. “Let’s do this!” he says decidedly, and extends his hand to shake Lincoln’s.

Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own

Robert A. Heinlein

I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am

when I am with you. I love you not only for what you

have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you for the part of me that you bring out. Elizabeth Barrett Browning

EMPTY BED Workday is long, busy and tedious. Tiring to the point of exhaustion, but I don’t want to go home first time in a long time. I sigh. It’s not true. I want to go, but I’m still angry. Our problems are unresolved. Anastasia is going to move out of our bedroom. How did we manage to fuck this marriage up so quickly? I can’t take the idea of her not being with me. I can’t just see her at home and not touch her, hold her or kiss her. I’m miserable. I have everything anyone would covet for. I’m rich, the way the women’s stare at me tells me I’m good looking enough, and to top that, I have a beautiful wife I’m in love with. What the hell is the problem? “She doesn’t want you anymore; that’s the problem,” my subconscious reminds me. Don’t I know it!

I call Gail at 5:00 p.m. knowing Anastasia isn’t home yet. “Hello Mr. Grey,” Gail answers. “Gail, I won’t be home for dinner tonight. I’m working late in the office. If Mrs. Grey asks, that’s where I’ll be,” I say. “Yes, Mr. Grey,” Gail replies. “I’ll inform her, sir. Anything else you wish, Mr. Grey?” Yes, tell Ana I love her! Tell her I hate this distance between us. Tell her I miss her terribly. I miss my wife! Tell her I’ve been a proud ass… “No, thank you Mrs. Jones,” I say softly and hang up. I give myself to my work for the rest of the evening. I haven’t called or e-mailed Anastasia all day. She hasn’t called me, e-mailed or texted me either. I couldn’t go for three hours without some sort of interaction with her. It’s been nearly two days since I touched her. We worked out other problems before. The vows, her topless showcase during our honeymoon and the subsequent punishment, the car chase, Ana keeping her maiden name at work, the time when she broke the protocol when I was in New York even though she said she would come home, Hyde’s break-in…. We worked through all those. When has she not been challenging? Since the minute she fell through my door. She wasn’t even supposed to be there! That alone was challenge enough. Isn’t that why I fell in love with her? Why can’t we work through this? She is as stubborn as I am, and I love her! The light in my office is dim, and I work in the light of my computer. My tie loosened, my jacket slumped behind my chair. My Blackberry vibrates on my desk, and my heart lurches. Her name on the screen with her smiling picture both elates me and shatters my heart. “Ana,” I answer the phone in a cool voice, though there are volcanoes brewing beneath it. “Hi,” she says gently. I inhale softly. “Hi,” I greet her in a lower voice. “Are you coming home?” she asks. Yes, but you won’t let me touch you, and you’ve moved out of our room. “Later,” I reply.

“Are you in the office?” she asks. Does she think I’m hanging out and partying with Elena? “Yes. Where did you expect me to be?” “I’ll let you go,” she says without answering my question. But I know what she’s thinking. The silence is deafening between us. It’s louder, speaks volumes of the distance we’ve created between each other. Simon and Garfunkel – The Sound of Silence “Goodnight, Ana,” I say finally. “Goodnight, Christian,” she replies. I hang up. I toss the Blackberry on my desk, and cover my face with my hands, finally shoving my hair back in exasperation. I finally have the courage to leave for home by midnight. Our room and bed is empty. Cold without her. I know that she’s upstairs in her former bedroom where she moved herself to. I slowly open the door to her former room. She’s curled up beneath the duvet. I slowly sit on the side of the bed to not to disturb her. My fingers tentatively reach out to her face. I don’t want to wake her. The simple touch of my fingers to her face is feels like stabs in my heart, hurting me. I close my eyes in agony. My fingers slowly slide to her hair fanned on her pillow. I feel the dampness on the pillow. She was crying. Why can’t we work this out? Two stubborn people, too fucking proud to admit we’re wrong. I slowly stand up from the bed, and pull a chair by the bed. I take off my silver tie I put on this morning in hopes that she would see it, but she was gone before I came out of the bedroom. I toss it on the floor unceremoniously. I watch her for hours sleeping, like I did the first night we spent together when she was drunk. Why the hell do we hurt each other like this? How do we pass this problem? I’m no father material. It scares me to death. I’m going to screw this kid up! I’m going to be shitty like my birth mother. But I love my wife with every fiber of my being. What do I do? I doze off for a short time in my most uncomfortable chair. But there’s no place I’d rather be than here right now. I wake up with the first lights of the day. Anastasia is still sleeping. I don’t want her to see me here. I make my way downstairs slowly, and go to our bedroom to take a shower and get ready. I’m dressed and ready to be out the door by 6:30 a.m. Mrs. Jones fixes my breakfast, and by the time I finish the last bite, I’m ready to walk out the door. Gail looks at me with pleading eyes. But, she says nothing. Taylor is waiting by the entrance. “Ready?”

“Yes, sir,” he replies and we leave for Boeing Field-King County Airport where Charlie Tango is. I send her an e-mail on the way to the airport. ____________________________________ From: Christian Grey Subject: Portland Date: September 15, 2011 06:45 To: Anastasia Grey Ana, I’m flying down to Portland today. I have some business to conclude with WSU. I thought you would want to know. Christian Grey CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc. ____________________________________ Taylor and I get to the airport, and get into Charlie Tango. Flight checks, and after clearing with the tower, we take off at about 7:30 a.m. from the airport to Portland. When we get to Portland it’s about 8:40 a.m. Taylor had a car reserved already which is waiting for us outside. We get to WSU’s Farming Division to meet with the directors and see the new crop projects they want to introduce. But I’m not in my element. My mind is pre-occupied, and I find myself asking them to repeat themselves. I tour the facility and listen to their findings, and I give my okay to allocate funds to their new project with the condition that they send detailed descriptions and findings on bimonthly basis to my company for evaluation. I go to a quick lunch before taking off back to Seattle. We are driven back to the airport where Charlie Tango is fueled and ready to take off. Just as we make our way to the helicopter and harnessed, Taylor’s Blackberry rings with voice mail. He picks his phone up. “That’s strange. I didn’t hear the phone ring. It’s Sawyer,” he says. He opens an app up on his phone. A red dot moves along on a map of Seattle in a rather speedy fashion. “Mrs. Grey’s car is on the move,” he says. “This is an unscheduled trip,” he mutters and without listening to Sawyer’s message he calls him back immediately.

“Sawyer, why is Mrs. Grey’s vehicle on the move on an unscheduled trip?” he asks in a commanding tone, and I stop in my tracks. Is something the matter with Ana? I listen to Taylor's one way conversation. “I see,” he says and looks at me with concern. “Mrs. Grey is unwell, and Sawyer is taking her back to Escala,” he says to answer my unspoken question. Oh no! I’m not home, and my wife is sick. Shit! “Tell him, we’re sitting at the tarmac, but will leave soon. We should be in Seattle in an hour. If she needs a doctor, he should take her there. Otherwise, let her rest. I’ll be home soon.”

“Yes, sir,” he says. “Sawyer, we’re sitting at the tarmac in Portland and we’ll be leaving here shortly. We are going to be in Seattle in about an hour. Take Mrs. Grey home; see if she needs any medical attention. If not, let her rest, but keep an eye on her. Mr. Grey will be home shortly after we arrive in Seattle.”

“A friend should always underestimate your virtues and an enemy overestimate your faults.” Mario Puzo, The Godfather

FREEDOM

Her cell phone rings, but the number is unlisted. She doesn't like to answer calls from Anonymous numbers, but some of the writers prefer their numbers to be unlisted to keep it from the stalking fans. “Good morning, this is Elisabeth Morgan,” she answers. “And my chariot arrives,” says the male voice mockingly. She freezes in her seat. “Jack! When did you get out?” “This morning, and I believe we have an unfinished business, Elizabeth.” “Look Jack! You got your freedom. Enjoy it. This will get you into more trouble.” “Oh, no you don’t! We have a deal where you help me so I don’t accidentally publish your spread out cunt all over the internet,” he threatens. “But you already know that it’s not the worst of it. You were tied up and fucked by not only one, but two men at the same time! How would that image go with dear sweet Mrs. Morgan? You may not get a job as an editor, but I’m sure the road to porn industry might open up for you. Although I don’t know how many offers you might get since you’re not a spring chicken anymore. So, DON’T FUCK WITH ME Elizabeth! You do exactly what I tell you to do. I know the map of your body, I know how hard you like your fuck, the bite of the cat, the clamps, and I know every dark desire of your heart in bed or elsewhere. If you’re a good girl now and obey, you might just experience some of that again,” he hisses like a snake. “Now, you know where the black Dodge is. And if you follow my instructions to the letter, you will get your reward, and you may not have to work under that cock sucking, gold digging whore! How does it feel to be bossed around by the little girl you hired only a few months ago, by the way? Hmmm?” he asks. Elisabeth and a lot of other women working at SIP resent Ana badly, and half of them wouldn’t think twice to aid in finding a way to get her flat on her face. The bitch was nearly penniless until they gave her a job, and she goes and marries the second richest man in Seattle. Christian Grey! The man is richer than dirt, and sexier than Greek gods. Every girl is burning with envy at the SIP. This would serve her right. “Fine, Jack,” she says grudgingly. “What do I need to do?” “Good girl. Well, first of all, we need to bait our trap. And Grey’s little sister will do just fine. Since you work with the cockblocker, it’d be best if you get Grey’s sister right after her gym session. They all have a set routine.”

“I don’t know what gym she goes to, Jack,” says Elizabeth. “Don’t worry, I do. Now be a good girl, and come and pick me up. I have my supplies at your apartment. Meet me there.” “Fine. Give me a few minutes. I’ll have to sneak out without letting anyone know.”

*****❦ ♡ ❧***** “You look a little different,” Elizabeth says to Jack when she sees him outside of her building. His hair is cut short, earrings removed, and he looks remarkably well dressed for a man who just got out of jail and is about to kidnap two women. He’s totally changed. “I don’t wanna be seen on your building’s camera. Be a dear and get the tranquilizers. All 10 packs of it. I have a duffel bag with some supplies, all ready to go. We will discuss the rest once you get downstairs. You might want to get a change of black outfit. Something inconspicuous and a baseball cap. But don’t change yet. That’s for later,” Jack says without wasting a word. When Elizabeth returns with the requested supplies from her apartment, they go to the parking lot, and uncover the black Dodge parked in a deep corner of the parking lot. “How are things at SIP?” Jack asks. “Different. Changing since Grey took over. Reins are tighter, so is the security. And there’s a constant watch, a body guard with Ana. It’s disgusting actually. What did Grey see in that scrawny bimbo?” says Elizabeth in contempt. “Jealous?” asks Jack fueling her hatred. “I have worked just as hard as you did for my job, Jack! She comes and takes over your job within two week. Well, okay, we hand it over to her, but I didn’t know her husband took over the company. And now she owns all our asses, including Roach’s! Nearly all the female editors have contempt for her. But Jack, this, this road we’re taking, it’s got no return. I don’t wanna go to jail!” “You won’t get caught to go to jail.” “She will know. She can surely identify me for what you are planning for me to do.”

“No, she won’t. We’ve talked about this before. If it had worked out the first time, and you did what you were supposed to do, I wouldn’t have gone to jail, and we would have had five million Dollars and sipping Mojitos in the Caribbean. As it is, I’ve made bail thanks to someone else who was fucked up by Grey. You get the little sister into the car. I’ll take care of her here. Then, we call the gold digger for our payment. She gets the money, and you collect her with the money from the bank making sure she isn’t followed. If you do it right, you get the biggest payday of your life!” says Jack with no intention of sharing the payoff. “If I’m going to do the majority of the footwork, I want to be in 50/50! My career and freedom are also in line,” she says. “You hold your end of the bargain, and you shall get 50/50. But I want to thank the bitch personally. Bring her here as soon as she collects our payment,” he says grinning. “Now, pull the SUV over here,” says Jack. “If my timing is correct, the little sister will come out in about 12 minutes. Tell her who you are, and that Ana is sick. I’ll take care of the rest once she enters into the car.” “Okay,” Elizabeth says nervously. “How do I know what she looks like?” “Can’t miss it. She looks an ostrich,” Jacks says. “What? This is no time to joke, Jack! I’m shaking here!” “Long legs, big tits, dark hair cut into a bob. Like this,” he says pulling out a printed picture of Mia Grey. Elisabeth looks at the picture and swallows. She takes a deep breath and pulls the Dodge in front of the gym. Mia emerges in her tight yoga pants and a bra top, with her gym bag slumped on her shoulder and her iPod ear buds plugged into her ears. Elisabeth rushes to the steps to meet Mia. “I’m sorry, Miss Grey?” she says all flustered. “Yes?” Mia replies. “I apologize for coming to you here, but I’m Elizabeth Morgan from SIP. I’m Ana’s boss. Your sister-in-law, Ana is unwell, and I guess she can’t reach her husband for some reason. We’ve taken her to a local hospital; she’s undergoing some tests right now. We’ve no idea what’s wrong with her, and the doctors won’t give me any information since I’m not next of kin. She told me to fetch you before she was taken into a test. I didn’t know how to reach you. Can you please come with me? She really needs someone with her!” Elizabeth says with genuine anxiety, but all for different reason.

“Oh my gosh! I better call my mom! She’s a doctor. She can meet us at the hospital.” “Please do that in the car. We don’t have a moment to spare!” Elizabeth rushes Mia holding her elbow in a pleading tone. Mia enters into the passenger side of the vehicle, and Elisabeth enters into the driver’s side, and immediately locks the doors turning the Dodge on. As Mia turns to toss her gym bag to the back seat, she notices Jack. “Who are you?” she asks confused. “Hello,” Jack says as he snakes his arm around her neck and covers her mouth and nose with a towel doused in chloroform, and as the fight slowly dissipates from Mia’s limbs, Jack stabs her with enough dose of horse tranquilizer that could put down a horse. “Step on it!” he hisses Elisabeth who watches him with gaping mouth. She manages to put the SUV in gear with shaky hands. “I’ll give you the directions,” Jack says as he pulls Mia’s limp body to the back of the SUV. Jack directs Elizabeth towards the industrial side of the city where there is a clump of abandoned buildings, old factories with broken windows and graffiti over the walls. It smells musty, dust, and decay. He pulls Mia’s body and slumps it over his shoulder carrying it inside the building. He lays her on a mattress stained with dirt, body fluids, possibly blood and fecal material. It smells, but then again, the bitch won’t need it long. She’s just the bait, and bait belongs in the ocean. She won’t mind at all. He ties her hands and feet, and gags her mouth, not that she will wake up anytime soon, if she wakes up at all. “Phase One complete,” he says as he walks out of the building, utterly content with himself. “Now what?” asks Elizabeth. “Now, we dip the bait in the water. Smile, it’s payday!” he says, and shows Mia’s cell phone. He scrolls through the numbers, and finds Ana’s cell phone in the list. The phone rings a few times, and Jack gets anxious thinking Ana might not answer the phone. That wasn’t in the plans. But she does. “Mia,” comes on Ana’s voice brightly. Jack grins wider than he ever did. It’s his paycheck speaking after all. “Well, hello there, Ana…long time no speak.” “Jack,” she replies in a choked, fearful, small voice. Just the affect he was aiming for.

“You do remember me,” he replies in a soft tone, smiling bitterly. “Yes. Of course.” “You’re probably wondering why I called you.” “Yes,” she says hesitant. She might hang up. “Don’t hang up. I’ve been having a chat with your little sister-in-law.” “What have you done?” she whisper her fear. “Listen here, you prick-teasing, gold-digging whore. You fucked up my life. Grey fucked up my life. You owe me. I have the little bitch with me now. And you, that cocksucker you married, and his whole fucking family are going to pay.” “What do you want?” Ah, the question he’s been waiting for many weeks. “I want his money. I really want his fucking money. If things had been different, it could have been me. So you’re going to get it for me. I want five million dollars, today.” “Jack, I don’t have access to that kind of money.” And, how is that my problem, Jack thinks to himself. “You have two hours to get it. That’s it…two hours. Tell no one or this little bitch gets it. Not the cops. Not your prick of a husband. Not his security team. I will know if you do. Understand?” He shouts. She’s silent. Is it fear, or did she hang up? “You understand!” he shouts forcefully. “Yes,” she whispers. It is indeed fear, Jack’s proud of his performance. “Or I will kill her.” He can hear Ana’s loud gasp on the phone. “Keep your phone with you. Tell no one or I’ll fuck her up before I kill her. You have two hours.” “Jack, I need longer. Three hours. How do I know that you have her?” she asks, but he hangs up on her. No chances to have time to think. She only has time to get the money. Now, it’s Elizabeth’s time to perform. Time is ticking after all.

When We Two Parted WHEN we two parted In silence and tears,

Half broken-hearted To sever for years,

Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss;

Truly that hour foretold Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning

Sunk chill on my brow-It felt like the warning Of what I feel now.

Thy vows are all broken, And light is thy fame:

I hear thy name spoken, And share in its shame.

They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear;

A shudder comes o'er me-Why wert thou so dear?

They know not I knew thee, Who knew thee too well:

Lond, long shall I rue thee, Too deeply to tell.

I secret we met--

I silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive.

If I should meet thee After long years,

How should I greet thee? With silence and tears Lord Byron “Sea-Tac tower, this is Charlie Tango – requesting permission to land.” “Helicopter Charlie Tango, cleared for landing at Sea-Tac airport, make approach circling left to helipad 11 arrival route 4. Remain 700 feet from the other helicopter. Please use caution wake turbulence. Cleared to land.” “Landing at helipad 11, arrival route 4. Remaining 700 feet from the helicopter,” I reply and we land at Sea-Tac. I take off the cans, and unbuckle the harness as Taylor is doing the same. His Blackberry rings ominously as soon as he turns it on, and he looks up and answers immediately. “Sawyer! What’s up?” He listens, and his face blanches, taking up a deathly color. “She did what?” he shouts. “Where are you?” “Slow down, are you running?... Driving?...Where?” “What is happening?” I ask my eyes blazing but I don't get a chance to get an answer. Because my Blackberry starts buzzing. “Grey,” I answer curtly. “Mr. Grey,” says a monotonous voice. “This is Troy Wheelan at the Pacific Northwest Bank. Mrs. Grey is here to withdraw five million Dollars in cash, sir. This obviously…” he says but I cut him.

“She is doing what?” “Withdrawing five millions dollars sir which is highly irregular for our bank without any prior notice, but luckily we do hold all the cash reserves for the Pacific Northwest,” he babbles on some shit proudly as my world crumbles around me. “I don’t give a flying fuck what your bank holds, or reserves. Did you just say my wife is there to withdraw five million dollars?” “Yes sir, she’s currently sitting in my office. I’m preparing the paperwork. But it is highly irregular as I said, and we need to verify what assets to withdraw these funds from.” My heart is beating in my ears. I can’t breathe. My wife, my love is leaving me with five million dollars of our money. She’s going. I find myself holding onto Charlie Tango, and Taylor’s eyes go wide. “Before you do anything, I want to talk to my wife, Wheelan. Put her through.” “Ah, she’s waiting for me to complete the paperwork.” “You will complete no fucking paperwork, if I sue your bank down to its last penny. Now, put my wife on the fucking phone, now!” I shout holding the phone in front of my mouth. My hands are shaking, everything is crumbling, and my heart is being cut into slices. I’m breathing heavily. Taylor has a terrified look on his face; totally shocked. Ana’s voice comes on the phone. “Hi,” she says softly. “You’re leaving me?” I ask in a harrowed whisper. I have never felt the anguish, dejection, heartbreak and torment as I do this minute. I would rather die than to hear her confirmation. But I need to know. Please baby, don’t leave me.

“No!” she says completely surprised at my question. Then what is she doing? But, her answer changes. “Yes,” she says in a whisper. She said ‘yes,’ she’s leaving me. I gasp my sob; my universe is destroyed, and I fall to my knees, lifeless, powerless. Death would be better than this grief. I would rather die than to hear it. Did she ever love me? Even a little bit? She said she would never leave me, and now… I buckle over my knees, my hand pulling a clump of my hair.

“Ana, I…” I can’t finish my words. I have no words. My faculties leave me. I’ll take everything I said, every hurt I inflicted. Just… Just... Don’t leave me. My choked sob finds its escape and my anguish blankets me.

Nothing's gonna change my love for you - Glenn Medeiros

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.

Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps. I hunger for your sleek laugh,

your hands the color of a savage harvest,

hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails, I want to eat your skin like a whole almond. I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,

I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes, and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight, hunting for you, for your hot heart,

like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue. Pablo Neruda

BOOK IV CHAPTER II PAIN of DEATH

My heart and my world are shattered beyond recognition with her confirmation. Why then did she say she’d never leave me before? Was it part of a grander scheme? I want to believe that she loved me. How can I though? I’m unlovable. Unworthy. I have to know why she was with me if she didn’t love me. She told me she didn’t care about my money at every chance she got. Why now? The idea that she might have wanted me for money is killing me. I don’t want it to be true. I don’t want my dad or Elena to be right. I thought the love we had was sacred. What I feel for her is sacred. It will never change. Even if all she wanted from me was money. But I need to hear this from her even it kills me. “But why the cash? Was it always the money?” I ask finally in a barely audible voice, the torment of my soul is evident in every syllable I utter. “No,” comes through a teary whisper. It’s me, then. I screwed it up. “Is five million enough?” I ask. What is five million when I lose my soul, the love of my existence? “Yes,” she whispers. “And the baby?” I ask. I don’t recognize my own voice. I am losing my wife, and my child. She finally saw that I’m unfit to be a father, to be her husband. We argued before. Fought. Sulked for days. But we always found a way to make up. What about our baby? How can I possibly worry the loss of someone whose existence scared the life out of me? But I do.

“I’ll take care of the baby,” she murmurs. She sounds like she’s made up her mind, further breaking my heart, killing me slowly. Killing me Softly – Roberta Flack “Is this what you want?” I ask, tormented. I have to know. I want to beg her, see a shred of hope. Please tell me ‘no’! Give me something to fight with. “Yes,” she replies emotionless. I think the pain of death is preferable to this one single word; because I’m dying. I inhale sharply, painfully. She plunges the final stab into my heart and twists the knife with this one word, one confirmation. “Take it all,” I hiss. I’ve lost her. Nothing else matters. Property, money, company… They mean nothing without her. She’s stripped me bare of my soul; no need to protect the shell. “Christian…” she sobs. I feel the love in that one word, and maybe it’s my mind’s selfpreservation, a wishful thinking, trying to make me believe what isn’t there. The ache is sharp; my heart is bleeding, cut into a thousand pieces. “It’s for you. For your family. Please. Don’t,” she begs, tearfully. “Take it all, Anastasia,” I choke. Love destroyed me. But, I would rather love her all my life and feel this pain, than go through an existence devoid of loving her. “Christian—“she begs. My mind is betraying me once again making me feel her love that isn’t there. “I’ll always love you,” I declare my love in a hoarse, cracking voice, and hang up on her. Michael Bublé – That’s all Taylor is on the phone talking to someone, but I don’t care. I’m collapsed on the floor next to Charlie Tango heaving, trying to push the sobs back, and they keep coming back relentlessly, incapacitating me. I need to call the bank back and get Whelan on the phone. I will still do what Ana wants, what she needs from me. She can get all the money she wants from me. Everything if that’s what she desires… I call the banker’s direct line. “Troy Whelan speaking.”

“It’s Christian Grey. I’ve spoken to my wife,” I say fighting to push the emotions back. My wife… Am I calling her by that title for the last time? “Give her the money. Whatever she wants.” “Mr. Grey, I can’t…” he starts his usual shit about how this is so irregular, out of their norm. I cut him off. Today is the last day I want to listen to anyone whine. “Liquidate five million of my assets. Off the top of my head: PKC, Georges, Atlantis Corps, Ferris and Umatic. A million from each.” Then he starts the same shit I expected him to say: “Mr. Grey, this is highly irregular. I’ll have to consult with Mr. Forlines.” “I’m playing golf with him next week,” I hiss at him. “Just fucking do it Whelan. Find a way, or I’ll close all the accounts and move GEH’s business elsewhere. Understand?” I shout my demands. Whelan is speechless at the end of the line. Taylor is on his phone and pacing back and forth, wearing a track on the tarmac and is getting louder than I am.

“Are you absolutely sure?” he bellows. The tone of his voice briefly diverts my attention. “When?” He stops in his place. “What time exactly?” He says and checks his time; his eyes widen and he stiffens in his tracks. “Why the fuck would you wait to call this long? You fucking charge over a $1,000 an hour! If Mr. Grey doesn’t fire your ass…” he says and stops. His voice switches from a furious tone to Defcon-1. “You did? I don’t give a shit! Do you realize that it’s been four hours since he was released? Who did they release him to?... Do you have an address?” his eyes widen with the response he gets. “You, fucking incompetent bastard! Stop yapping! Hang on!” he says and walks towards me, his gaze somber, full of rage, looking like an uncaged predator, mirroring me. He’s put his Blackberry to his chest to muffle our conversation from whoever is on the other end of the line. “We’ll sort the fucking paperwork out later,” I add, my attention drifting to Taylor. “Yes, Mr. Grey,” says Whelan and I hung up. I rub my eyes, both hands in my hair pulling forcefully as look at Taylor.

“Ana’s leaving me, Taylor,” I mutter with agony in my voice, my soul is desolate. “But I still want to go to the bank and want her to tell me that to my face. I deserve better than a phone call from a bank manager, I think! She can give me that much. Then I’ll let her go. It should take the bank a little while to complete the procedure,” I say. “I put my reputation on the line that she isn’t leaving you! I know caddy bitches, and Mrs. Grey isn’t one. This isn’t her way, Mr. Grey! ” Taylor says with speedy fervor. “She’s withdrawing five million dollars. It’s over… I fucked it up,” I say as my entire body is trembling. “The hell it’s over, Mr. Grey! I need you to run with me to the SUV please,” he says and continues talking full speed as he yanks my arm. “I have profiled countless people in the past. Even a blind man would know that she doesn’t care about your money! Your fucking incompetent attorney just informed me that Hyde is out on bail!" "What?" I ask stopping in my tracks. "Jack Hyde is released on bail!" he repeats. "When?" "Sometime this morning. Mrs. Grey withdrawing five million bucks just after the fucker’s release from jail can’t be a coincidence." "Do you think he's blackmailing her with something?" "I don't know. There's a lot of missing pieces in this story, and not everything is what it seems. It's possible. The asshole been out for the last four hours or possibly more! I’ll tell you the details in the car, sir. Can we keep please keep running? We don’t have a second to lose!” he says emphatically, angry and for the first time I realize that Taylor, too has lost control. Then he holds his Blackberry on his ear but I extend my hand firmly for the phone as we run through the parking lot to get to the SUV. “With fucking pleasure!” he says and thrusts the phone into my hand. “Who the hell is this?” I bark, adrenaline coursing through me, giving me a shot of energy. A weak voice answers.

“It’s Trent Baxter, sir. Nearly three hours ago, we were informed that Mr. Hyde was released on bail.” “And you call us now?” I shout, my blood boiling. “My wife may be in danger because of my fucking attorneys’ incompetence!” “We tried to call you hour and a half ago sir, but both your phone and Taylor’s went to voice mail. We tried calling GEH, and your assistant told us that you were in Portland, and may be in mid-flight which is why we waited to call you until this time.” “You said three hours,” I say my voice is low and deadly as I continue to run faster than I ever did and we make it to the SUV within excruciatingly long few minutes. “Three fucking hours!” I shout to the top of my lungs. “Three hours ago I was available! You were supposed to prevent this from happening, and if there was an off chance that he was to be granted bail, you were to be informed immediately, and inform me!! I’ll deal with your fucking ass tomorrow!” I growl with malice as slide into the passenger seat of the SUV. Taylor hits the gas before we close the doors. “I’m sorry Mr…” he says, but I hang up, cutting him off. After handing Taylor his Blackberry, I immediately dial Anastasia’s phone on my own Blackberry. Now that I know the fucker Hyde is granted bail and like a moronic petulant adolescent I didn’t speak to my wife for the last couple of days I’ve no idea where we stand. Something is definitely off, and somehow Taylor’s trust in her chagrins me in the lack of trust I had in my own wife. This is not Anastasia’s way. She would tell me off if she really didn’t want me. If Hyde is behind this, I have to find out. She said, ‘no’ at first when I asked her if she was leaving me. Her shock in hearing my question was as great as mine in asking it. Then she changed her mind in a split second. Something is horribly wrong with this picture. I wait on the line as Anastasia’s phone rings and rings ominously, but she doesn’t answer. I hang up, my insides are twisting. I speed dial Sawyer then put the Blackberry in the cradle. “Mr. Grey, I’m at the bank,” he answers without waiting for me to say a word. His voice echoes through the speakers in the SUV’s sound system. “Do you see Mrs. Grey? Did you get to talk to her?” “She’s just walking out with the bank manager,” he says and waits. “I’m looking at her right now. She’s holding her finger, saying, just a minute…” he says waits. “We’re on our way to the bank! Keep her there until we get to the bank!”

“Taylor, ETA?” I ask turning to him. “Ten minutes,” he says as he floors the gas. “We’ll be there in ten minutes. Can you manage to keep her there?” I ask acidly. “She just walked back to the manager’s office. The manager is looking surprised by her going back to the room. He just followed her back into his office. Oh shit, Mr. Grey! I have a feeling she’s going to try to evade me again, sir. But, I’m not leaving without her!” he says with determination. “Sawyer, we’re going to cross under the bridge, the reception may get lost. Stay with her! We’ll be there in a few minutes!” I urge him. I press my foot down on the floor as if I too have an access to the accelerator. But of course I don’t. The line goes dead. My heart is drumming in my ears. My hands are fisted, rattling the center console. “She ain’t in it for your money, Mr. Grey!” Taylor says fervently, his gaze fixed on the road. “Maybe not… But I’ve been ass.” "I really am mad at her for not coming to us if Hyde is blackmailing her! But, I can't focus on that right now. We have to rescue her from Hyde!" "What if she really is...leaving?" I ask, my voice low. “Mr. Grey. Let’s focus on what we do know, the facts: If Mrs. Grey was in it for money, she would have taken a lot more. I will speak out of turn, but to give you an unbiased perspective. Five million is pocket change for you, sir! You are worth twelve billion Dollars, for God’s sake!” “She said she didn’t want it when I told her to take everything…” I mutter. “That doesn’t sound like someone who is there to take your money! I have an ominous feeling that Mrs. Grey is in imminent danger. I think she’s acting this way because fucking Hyde is out of jail on bail! We don’t know the connection yet, sir. Every fiber in my being is telling me that Hyde has something to do with this. He might be threatening her. With what? That, I don't know,” he bellows.

A violent shudder goes through me as if someone walked over my grave. My breathing increases and my gaze is fixed on the road ahead trying to get to my wife. Taylor hits the breaks and the tires screech and leave a long trail of skid marks as he overshoots the bank’s parking lot. He immediately makes a right turn into the parking lot as the tires drag and the vehicle tilts to left momentarily, then parks the SUV right in front of the bank. Without turning the car off, we both rush into the bank. We find Sawyer arguing with the bank manager loudly.

“I'm asking you one last time: Where did Mrs. Grey go?” he is barking at Whelan. “If you do not remove yourself from our bank, I will have you forcefully removed, sir,” Whelan is threatening Sawyer. An armed security guard is approaching towards the small cluster of two. As Taylor and I rush into the bank full speed, we come to a skidding halt and barely avoid a collision with two. “Where is my wife?” I ask Whelan. “Mr. Grey!” Whelan gushes. “This gentleman has been most impolite seeking the whereabouts of Mrs. Grey,” he complains. “Of course he does, you fucking ass! He’s her personal bodyguard! Where did Mrs. Grey go?” Whelan’s mouth drops open, and he gestures the bank guard away. The patrons and employees alike are focused on our group, and watching us. “Mrs. Grey saw this gentleman here, and said that someone was following her, and she wanted to exit from the rear of the bank…” he says, and “through the employee exit,” he qualifies. “Did you give her the money?” “Yes sir.” “Track the car!” I order Sawyer. “That’s the thing sir. The car is immobile. It’s parked right here,” Sawyer lifts up his phone to show me the dot marking her vehicle. “I can answer that,” says Whelan trying to get on my good side. “Mrs. Grey left in a black Dodge SUV. A female friend of hers came to pick her up in black pants and shirt

and a baseball cap. Come to think of it, Mrs. Grey was very surprised and rather unhappy to see her there. I couldn't say the same about the other person, though.” “What did she look like? Come on man, speak!” I shout. “Well, tall, slim, dark hair. She had nondescript clothing, all black and a baseball cap as I said, and sunglasses. But Mrs. Grey recognized her and called her ‘Elizabeth’.” “Fuck! Elisabeth Morgan?” “She didn’t say the last name.” “I’ve got the cell phone on the move!” Taylor says and shouts to the Whelan as he’s heading towards the exit. “Call the cops! This might be a kidnapping!” and we run out to the SUV to follow the signal from Anastasia’s Blackberry. “Wait!” shouts Whelan behind us as he’s trying to catch up in rapid steps. “This might be important. After Mrs. Grey went back into my office, she asked me to give her a few minutes to make a phone call. Then, right before we went out from the backdoor she asked me to lend my cell phone to her which I did and of course and she now has my phone with her. Does it make sense to you? Because it sure doesn’t to me…” he says. “Of course it does! She knew her cell phone would be taken and she wanted to be found! Check for your cell phone in the bushes, someplace inconspicuous, trash, dumpster behind the bank. If it's there, we know for sure that they've kidnapped her!” I shout. "If you find it, make sure the cops know that this is a kidnapping!" I hear gasps among the female patrons and employees alike and a few of them already make their way to the back of the bank to assist the manager. My wife knew I would track her! She was leaving breadcrumbs, clues behind her so to speak. This is a life and death situation. We run out at top speed. Taylor and I jump back into the SUV and Sawyer follows us. Taylor puts his phone in the cradle. The red dot indicating Ana’s Blackberry moves on the map becomes my life line, symbolizing my wife’s position, telling me that she’s alive. Things slowly start falling into place. I’m both hopeful and terrified. Hyde attempted to kidnap, torture and fuck my wife; that’s why he was in jail. Now that he succeeded in kidnapping her, I’m writhing in agony in my seat with worry eating me up alive. “Let’s move fucking faster, Taylor!” I bellow. Taylor runs every red light, swerves, and weaves between cars, and even drives on the sidewalk narrowly avoiding a few pedestrians before he can jump the SUV in front of a Ford Sedan. I see the red dot

coming to a halt by the old industrial part of town. Most of those buildings are abandoned, and I seriously start fearing for her life more than ever. Because the red dot is ominously blinking in the same spot on the map. Did they dump her phone, or did they take her out of the car? What are they doing to her? If Ana was getting the money for herself, she wouldn’t be going to a fucking abandoned factory! I know she’s kidnapped by Hyde. And that gut wrenching feeling is tearing me apart. It’s now a race between life and death! My legs are shaking; my hands are fisted repeatedly thumping like the four horsemen of the apocalypse. “ETA is two minutes!” Taylor warns, momentarily breaking my ominous thought. I start praying. “Please let her be okay! Please, don’t let harm come to my wife and my baby! Please keep her safe! I love her! I love my wife! Please…” I mutter my prayers under my breath. My lips move but no sound comes out. I violently wipe an escaped tear with my knuckle. My gaze is fixed on the road, and when the edge of the peeling paint, and broken windows of the old warehouses and abandoned factories start appearing, I can hear my own heartbeat thumping in my chest with surmounted uneasiness. We are only about fifty yards away from the red dot. When Taylor enters into the concrete road with cracks on it, giving the SUV's shocks a workout, I finally see the black Dodge SUV parked on the side, and then hear a single shot being fired, shattering my world. My heart stops; all sounds cease to exist except the loud gushing of blood as if a tunnel opened up in my ears. No!! No! “Anaaa!” I shout and I can see my agony reflected in Taylor’s face. The SUV comes to a screeching halt and I yank the door open and run full speed in the direction of Ana’s body on the concrete ground. I hear other vehicles come rushing, tires screeching, people shouting but I see nothing but my Ana’s body is on the dusty, concrete road, lying motionless. A revolver by her hand. She shot the fucking bastard! Momentary relief floods me but it's short lived. “Ana!” I shout. My voice reflects the torment, and agony I’m drowning in. I would harrow hell for her, but this… this is killing me. When I reach her, I sink to the ground, and hold her in my arms, and see her eyes close as I reach her. “ANAAA!” It’s the sound of mournful anguish coming out of me. I wrap my wife in my arms, and vaguely notice Taylor securing Elisabeth Morgan who has her hands up. I hear the sirens in the distance. “Taylor!” I shout. “Tayloooor!” despairing. He comes running as Sawyer is pointing a gun at Jack who is writhing on the floor. My baby’s face and body forming bruises already, she's cold, her breathing shallow, barely noticeable. “Hold my girl!” I say.

Taylor is the only person I can trust her safety at the moment. He doesn’t hesitate, and cradles Ana into his arms.

I turn in his direction with one goal in mind. I am going to kill Hyde with my bare hands. I rush in his direction. Understanding my intent, he wobbles onto his feet pressing down to his bloodied leg with one hand, and half wobbles, half runs away from me. I speed up, and leap on top of him. We roll on the concrete floor a few times. I sit on top of him pressing down on his wounded leg with my knee, and land my punches on his face. "Fuuuck!" he screams in pain and struggles beneath me while tries to knee me with his good leg. "Mr. Grey! Your sister is here!" Sawyer shouts as he comes out of the old warehouse with Mia's body is lolling in his arms. With the added sight of my sister to the picture, I totally lose myself. I grab Hyde off the ground and bring him up. "You fucked with the wrong man's family!” I shout with nothing but murder in my eyes. I grab him at the nape of his neck, and pulling back my leg, I knee him in the groin repeatedly as he feebly tries to fight me off. Then I swing a right hook into his chin, and hear the crack. "Fight me!" I shout. He tries to swing his punch ineffectually. "Come on!" I taunt him. I grab his head between my hands firmly, and head butt him forcefully three times. The force if our collision rattles my head, but I don't care. Pain is

welcome. It makes me feel something again. He groans but manages to land a punch to my left side. It barely registers. I have one goal in mind. “Mr. Grey! The ambulance is here!” I vaguely hear the sirens and shouts. A woman screams. “Hold your hands up!” someone shouts. I ignore the warning. I land successive punches on Hyde’s chest; he can barely stand on his feet. He falls to the ground screaming in agony. I lift him up by his hair and punch him repeatedly until my knuckles are bloodied. I feel two people pulling me off him with all their strength. “It’s enough Grey! You’ll kill him! He’s unconscious already! Go tend your wife; she’s being taken to the hospital!” the voice orders. My eyes are glazed with murderous rage. I struggle out of the hold of the cops who are using all their strength to keep me immobile. I punch one of them and two more takes his place trying to tackle me down. I grab the right arm of one with both hands, my back turned to him using the strength of biceps and forearms. I raise my arms above my head, and twisting his arm with force of both my arms, the cop’s body obeys and he flies through the air and lands on the ground on his back loudly. Another cop tries to subdue me by coming behind me, but using the shoulder elbow lock, I dislocate his shoulder. “Jesus Christ, Grey! Stand down! You took Hyde down! Stop!” shouts an authoritative male. I recognize the voice of Detective Clark. “Hands up, or we’ll shoot!” shouts another skittish cop. I don’t listen. I’m outside of my body; fighting with every cop who is blocking my way to Hyde’s worthless ass methodically with the precision of a well-oiled machine. I want to kill him! I see medics attending him, and putting him on a gurney. The cops are trying to prevent me from reaching him. “Detective, get your men to stand down! Keep them away from Grey! He’s distraught. Cut the man some slack! I’ll take him!” It’s Taylor. “Get him to stop Taylor! My men are only trying to subdue him so he doesn’t harm anyone else! He can’t take law into his own hands! Not in my jurisdiction!” barks the detective back at him. “Do you really wanna argue that now? Remember who the victim is here, Detective! Grey doesn’t have a weapon! Your cops do! Have them holster their weapons! Don’t force my men to shoot cops! We will if they fire one single shot on him! Get your men to stand down!” I hear Taylor shout. I feel like a cornered wild animal.

“Stand down! Back away! Holster your weapons!” I hear the detective shout. Taylor runs towards me. Cops are slowly stepping back; their weapons are slowly getting holstered. Taylor approaches me with measured steps, his hands are up to show me he means me no harm. “Mr. Grey! They’re taking Ana to the hospital. Please, she needs medical attention immediately!” Taylor says and his words don’t register at first. I find myself getting into a defensive posture. But he grapples me from behind and I realize that I start sobbing helplessly as reality sinks in. I struggle in his hold, but the fight is leaving me. “Don’t fight me Mr. Grey! Ana needs help right now! She needs you! Now! The ambulance will leave without you if you don’t come!” My wife’s name is my lifeline getting me out my murderous rage. I turn and look at Taylor, my eyes clouded, my face wet with tears mixing with dust and dirt. “Ana?” I ask in a choked voice. “This way,” Taylor says and he guides me quickly in the direction of one of the ambulances. Two medics are feverishly attending Ana’s motionless body on the gurney as Taylor pushes me in. “He’s not supposed to be in here!” says one of the medics. “The hell, I’m not! She’s my wife!” I shout. “Let him!” I hear the Detective and catch the pity in his eyes. Anastasia has an oxygen mask on; her arms are hooked to an IV line, and some other fluids. She’s strapped tightly and they’ve already cut the clothes out of her body which are on a small heap on the floor and they covered her modesty with a light blue disposable sheet. Seeing her motionless, bruised, and barely breathing kills me inside. I gently hold her hand, trying hard not to jostle her. Someone closes the door behind us, and sirens blaring, we’re on the move to the hospital. Broken – Seether and Amy Lee

Yet each man kills the thing he loves By each let this be heard Some do it with a bitter look Some with a flattering word The coward does it with a kiss The brave with a sword Oscar Wilde

TAYLOR The shades of moods Boss had been in the last two days will cover the color spectrum from end to end. I have seen him in fits of rage, contempt, aggravation, apathetic, bewildered, angry, joyful, jealous, lusty, happy, predatory, and even downright weird and goofy around Ana, but I’ve never seen him in despair. This is a new one for him. He’s never been out of his element, and yet, he was completely preoccupied in Portland. I’m just hoping that he gets us to Seattle in one piece. Right before we leave Portland I notice that I have a missed call from Sawyer. “That’s strange. I didn’t hear the phone ring. It’s Sawyer,” I say, and Mr. Grey is pure attention. Knowing that he had a fight with Ana yesterday morning, and she hasn't even seen his face since yesterday morning, this could be important. I immediately check the tracker on my phone set for Mrs. Grey’s vehicle. It’s on the move. “Mrs. Grey’s car is on the move. This is an unscheduled trip,” I mutter. I don’t have to say that twice to make my Boss nervous as if I stuck his hand into a wasp nest. I dial Sawyer immediately without listening to his message. “T!” he says anxiously.

“Sawyer, why is Mrs. Grey’s vehicle on the move on an unscheduled trip?” I ask accusingly; my tone commanding. “I wanted to let you know Mrs. Grey is with me. She’s unwell. I’m taking her back to Escala…” he says. “I see,” I say getting concerned. Mrs. Grey is pregnant and my insecure boss went batshit crazy on her couple of nights ago. Hell, I know it’s not easy to be a dad, but damn, when he turns his charm on full blast like that even my knees start shaking and he could try the patience of a saint! But poor sap is crazy over his wife, and that’s his saving grace. He looks at me anxiously. Worry is written all over his face. “Mrs. Grey is unwell, and Sawyer is taking her back to Escala,” I answer his questioning gaze. He tries to gather his composure, and slides back his I’m-in-control persona, and answers: “Tell him, we’re sitting at the tarmac, but will leave soon. We should be in Seattle in an hour. If she needs a doctor, he should take her there. Otherwise, let her rest. I’ll be home soon.” I really hope that they sort their shit out soon! I feel so uncomfortable being the middle man in their communication like two teenagers who aren't speaking and using their friends as mediaries. “Yes, sir,” I reply and convey his message to Sawyer. Mr. Grey quickly conducts his flight checks and takes off the airport just as soon as the last word leaves the mouth of the Airport Traffic Controller. He remains tense all through the flight. He’s a stubborn man, and I can see that his pride, ego, and his mulish nature combat against his love and desire he has for her. But, he finally manages to focus on the flight and lands us in one piece in Seattle. I turn on my Blackberry first thing as soon as we’re on the ground, and my fucking Blackberry rings like the messenger of doomsday. I answer without delay after seeing Sawyer’s name on the Caller ID. “Sawyer! What’s up?” “Mrs. Grey tricked me and ran away from Escala!” What the hell did he just say? My blood freezes, and then runs hot immediately, searing me. “She did what?” I shout in shock. “Where are you?” I ask and his answer comes muffled, breathless. I can’t understand every other word he’s saying because he’s talking in rapid fire. “Slow down, are you running?”

“I was.” “Driving?” “I’m in the SUV, chasing her car in streets of Seattle. Well, tracking more like it. Her vehicle is motionless. She’s parked it somewhere.” “Where?” “You won’t believe it! At the bank!”

“What is happening?” Boss asks in his don’t-you-dare-fuck-with-me-by-being-evasive mode. I open my mouth to answer Mr. Grey, but he gets a phone call of his own. Without taking the blazing intensity of his eyes away from me he answers. His face changes suddenly to one of shock, betrayal, and utter disbelief. “She is doing what?” he shouts, then listens to the person on the other line. “I don’t give a flying fuck what your bank holds, or reserves. Did you just say my wife is there to withdraw five million dollars?” he growls like a wild beast. “Taylor? Did you hear me? I need your instructions,” Sawyer shouts. “Repeat the last thing you said!” I order. “Mrs. Grey’s car is parked at the bank, and I just drove into the bank’s parking lot right now. I suspect that she’s in the back someplace, because I’m not seeing her at any of the desks here.” From Mr. Grey’s shocked expression, I have a feeling he’s got a call from the bank. This is so unlike Mrs. Grey. “Sawyer! Remain on her tail. Call Ryan! I have a feeling something big is going down!” Then I get another glimpse of Mr. Grey’s face in a mood I have never seen him in before with this intensity: pure, undiluted anguish unlike the one he had when Ana left him. This look is accompanied by betrayal. Every cell on my body is on full alert telling me that all is not what it seems. I never dismiss my intuition. That’s what made me a great solider. I have to remain in charge to get us through today. It may save more than one life. “I have to call you back!” I say and hang up on Sawyer and dial Welch.

“Taylor? Where the hell have you guys been? I have been dialing you every other minute in the last hour!” “I’m here now!” I say and see my unconquerable boss collapse on the tarmac on his knees as if begging his wife, sobbing! Oh, fuck! What the hell did she say to bring this man to his knees, to rip him apart like this in anguish? I’ve seen men put through torture back in the day in the hands of the enemy. But, this shit is a new level in cruel and unusual punishment. “Welch! Shit’s hitting the fan from every direction, and I have a feeling this is just the beginning!” “What is going on?” “Something is happening to or about Mrs. Grey, and I can’t put my finger on it yet. Gather your best man together and track Mrs. Grey’s vehicle and her phone. She’s the key to all of this for now! I have a feeling we will converge at the same point…” I say and I hear another incoming call. I look at the caller ID. The number belongs to Mr. Grey’s attorney’s firm. What could they want now? “Welch, the fucking blood suckers are calling! I gotta get this! I repeat: I need you to gather a group of your best men, and track Mrs. Grey! Something happened to her today to make her act bizarre! Check her phone records from today, and for God’s sake hurry the fuck up!” I say, and he says, “wait! You didn’t hear…” he says, but I switch the line. “What?” I seethe with anger, losing control. “Taylor… This is Trent Baxter,” one of Mr. Grey’s attorneys says calmly on the phone. “Baxter, what the hell is going on?” I bark. “I wanted to inform you and Mr. Grey that Jack Hyde had been granted bail this morning,” and with that declaration, all the blood rushes into my head, and finally something makes sense. Rage to rival my Boss’ spreads over me like poison in bloodstream. I could kill someone with this incompetence! Grey has left Seattle what, about half a day, and everyone manages to fuck everything up royally! I want to make sure that I heard him correctly.

“When?” I ask in a menacing voice. “Sometime this morning,” he replies evasively, like the fucking lawyer he is. I come to a halt on the tarmac where I’ve been wearing down a trail. “Let me rephrase my question then. Clearly you do not understand me. What time exactly?” I ask enunciating. He pauses, his voice is lower. “The bail was granted at 8:00 a.m. but the processing of the papers took over an hour, and he was released around 9:00 a.m. this morning give or take fifteen minutes. But my sources say that it could have been as late as 10:00 a.m.” I check my watch. His report is all over the place. The fucker could have been free for five or six hours! Four hours by the worst accounts. I start pacing again, unable to find anything to hit. “Why the fuck would you wait to call this long? You fucking charge over a thousand dollars an hour! If Mr. Grey doesn’t fire your ass…” I shout; I’m a cocked pistol, blowup is imminent. But the fucking lawyer tries to interfere. “But we did call! We tried to call both Mr. Grey’s phone and yours!” “You did?” I ask to confirm in a mocking voice. “Yes, hour and a half ago. The phone went to voice mail. Then we called the GEH, and Andrea Parker said that you guys might be in mid-flight.” “I don’t give a shit! Do you realize that it’s been four hours at least since he was released?” “Yes, I realize that, but we only learned about it three hours ago. Cut me a little slack!” I'll cut you a slack alright! From here to hell! “Who did they release him to?” “We don’t know who provided the bail, or who he went with.” “Do you have an address?” “Look Taylor, everything about his release is a mystery. I will go to the courthouse and get the details. All the information we have about his release is vague. Hold on a second…” he says having the gull to put me on hold during the biggest emergency we have!

“My assistant was checking on the address and just uncovered that it was one of those mailbox addresses that appear like a regular physical address. So, we got nothing!” My eyes widen with this man’s inadequacy. “You fucking bastard!” I shout. “Calm down Taylor! We’ll sort this out today…” he says coolly. The audacity! “Stop yapping!” I say with ferocity barely contained by the skin of my teeth, and walk towards my boss who looks like he’s died a thousand deaths within the matter of a few minutes. “Hang on!” I hold the phone to my chest to prevent the hyena from hearing our conversation. Boss says something to the person he’s on the phone with and hangs up. Then he looks at me with red rimmed, swollen, grim eyes. His appearance has all the evidence that he’s been through a hundred wringers, beaten, tortured and his soul ripped out from the roots. “Ana’s leaving me, Taylor,” he chokes out. And in those four words, I see the man on fire, burning in his own personal hell, tied in the purgatory. My boss has many faults. But one of his biggest faults is that he does not trust enough to the one person he ought to trust. Because a man may be deceived if he trusted a little too much, but he will put himself through torment like Mr. Grey is doing right now if he doesn’t trust enough. He doesn’t trust in his wife’s love for him! Hell, I trust it, why can’t he? He wants to go to the bank to hear it from Ana’s own lips. Hallelujah! No matter what the reason, this is his first sane reaction! But I gotta set my boss straight. “I put my reputation on the line that she isn’t leaving you! I know caddy bitches…” hell do I know them. I was married to one. I tell him that it’s not Mrs. Grey’s way. “She’s withdrawing five million dollars. It’s over… I fucked it up,” he says. Oh, God damn it Mr. Grey! What is five million to you? It’s fucking pocket change. Sometimes I just want to knock some fucking sense into his brilliant, but self-deprecating brain! If my ex was with Grey, she’d take the twelve billion he has, and also carve another large portion from his future income he would ever make. Mrs. Grey isn’t a greedy brat. I’ve seen her broken over this man into thousands of irreparable pieces! Gail told me how tormented she was when he upped and left when he heard she was pregnant. Their own damned fault is that they’re both very stubborn and proud to admit their faults. Everyone in the house can see that, why can’t they? I need a fucking vacation once this whole shit settles! “The hell it’s over, Mr. Grey!” I say determined. He still fucking doesn’t realize that his wife’s life may be in danger. “Run with me to the SUV please,” I say and practically

drag him after me. I quickly explain that Hyde is on bail, and his fucking incompetent, exorbitantly expensive attorney is on the phone whose ass I would love to kick to hell, but my only consolation is that I know my boss will be roasting him in the Grey fire momentarily. I would enjoy the attorney’s punishment a lot more had the circumstances been different, but we are on a rescue mission right now. I’ll just recall it at my leisure later on a down day. Can’t let today to be one of them… I can’t shake the ominous feeling even after Mr. Grey chews the lawyer up. He finally understands that Mrs. Grey is in imminent danger, and hands me my phone and using his own Blackberry when we get to the SUV, and as I put the metal to the pedal, he dials Ana’s number, but I can see the distress on his face when she doesn’t answer. He dials Sawyer’s phone and places the phone on the cradle. Sawyer's answering distressed voice echoes in the SUV's speakers. I’m so fucking glad that we have at least eyes and ears on ground zero. But Sawyer says that Mrs. Grey went back into the bank manager’s office. He says that she might try to evade him again, and knowing her, she will. “Taylor, ETA?” asks Mr. Grey getting me out of my reveries. When I tell him ten minutes, he relays the time to Sawyer. If she is on the run, there’s a reason. Why five million? Why not ten? Why today? Why not wait for a divorce and take him to the cleaners get five billion instead five million since he doesn’t have a pre-nuptial? There are too many red flags in this. I have profiled enemies I have not laid eyes on. Mrs. Grey’s personality is a given. She is madly in love with Christian Grey. Even if she was to break up with him, she wouldn’t use this method knowing how badly it would damage him. No, I’m certain it’s the fucker Hyde threatening her with something. I don’t know what it is yet, but, he will have hell to pay once Mr. Grey catches up to him and I will do everything in my power to let him. We lose Sawyer as I speed through under the bridge. I know that hell is brewing in Mr. Grey’s soul, and I can’t take the tormented edginess in his demeanor. He looks like he’s one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, especially with his tense drumming. “She ain’t in it for you money, Mr. Grey,” I blurt out, but he needs to hear this from someone who is unbiased. But he manages to have his self-pity take over his good judgment. I try to steer his mind looking into the events objectively. Because if we have to save her life, we are running against the clock and there is no room for his selfdeprecation today whatsoever. He finally manages to see the facts from my point of view. Hallelujah!

The ride to the bank is short, and long at the same time because we’re both on edge. The tension runs like red hot wire through us and ready to mow anything that got in our way. Mr. Grey runs out of the SUV before I can put the vehicle into park. I ran after him barely closing my door. I immediately know that Mrs. Grey is gone from Sawyer’s fighting stance against the bank manager who is threatening to remove him with the security. Fuck this shit! How many things can go wrong today? Mr. Grey’s in control once again and his don’t-you-dare-to-fuck-with-me demeanor is a welcome sight both by me and Sawyer. After setting the bank manager straight, he informs us that a woman named Elisabeth came to pick Mrs. Grey up with a black Dodge SUV. The only Elisabeth who knows both Mrs. Grey and the asshole Hyde is Elisabeth Morgan from SIP. Welch’s research didn’t catch that connection. Apparently Mrs. Grey wasn’t expecting to see her. I know that Mr. Grey is finally on the same page with me. Thank fuck! I order the bank manager to call the cops as we run out of the bank to track Mrs. Grey’s phone. The bank manager remembers some more crucial in information about Mrs. Grey's visit which makes me feel certain that we are dealing extortion and kidnapping. “Sawyer! Call Welch! Have him track Mrs. G’s cell phone and have him meet us there with the fucking Calvary, like yesterday!” I shout with urgency. I put my Blackberry on the cradle to follow the red dot on the map indicating Mrs. G’s location. As long as she’s the dot that’s moving, there’s less of a change that she’s being harmed. The dot moves towards the coastal road around the old industrial quarters which are abandoned and mostly occupied by vagrants and druggies. I know Mrs. G wouldn’t be going to that side of town by her own choice. “Let’s move fucking faster, Taylor!” shouts Mr. Grey, and even that tone is welcome. I break enough traffic laws to be permanently lose my driver’s license, and I’m quite surprised that I don’t see any police cars following us other than Sawyer behind us breaking just as many laws as I am. When the red dot stops on the map, the silence in the vehicle is thick, suffocating. I can see Mr. Grey’s breathing become heavy. He’s unable to sit still in his seat. If the man could grow wings, he would have flown the coop already. “ETA is two minutes!” I say giving him a heads up. I keep my gaze on the road, and as I reach the dilapidated warehouses, but I don’t slow down. I hear other vehicles and distant sirens finally. A single gunshot is heard on the road ahead and it’s as if it hit Mr. Grey in the heart. The tormented anguish is spreading through him like the bubonic plague. I don’t ever want to see my boss this broken again. The SUV I’m driving is the

first one to reach the crime scene. I hit the brake as I get close to Mrs. Grey on the ground, and for the first time we realize that it is her who fired the shot, but only managed to injure the fucking bastard! “Anaaa!” screams Mr. Grey in a grief stricken unrecognizable voice I wish never to hear again. He shoots out like an arrow from his seat and runs to his wife, sinking onto the ground to pick her up in an intimately despondent way, holding her close to his chest, rocking back and forth. I jump out of the still running vehicle only a few seconds after Mr. Grey with my weapon cocked and aimed. Sawyer‘s SUV is the next one to screech halt within a few second after us, and he runs out in our direction also with his gun drawn. As I run near Mrs. Grey, I can see that she’s beaten and roughed up and unconscious. God damn it, Mrs. Grey! Why wouldn't you ask for help? A revolver is lying beside her hand on the concrete ground. “God damn it to hell!” I shout my exasperation. I take my Blackberry out as I run. I press the three numbers. “911. What’s your emergency?” “We need an ambulance or more right now!” I shout and briefly explain the kidnapping and give her the location. Then I hear Mr. Grey’s agonized voice again, “ANAAA!” like a wounded predator. Is she dying? "Hurry the hell up, please!" I shout at the operator. My eyes darken in anger and shift the focus of my attention on Elizabeth Morgan who is holding her hands up in the air and shouting her apologies. “Fucking too late! Have a nice time in being someone’s bitch in jail!” I shout as I forcefully cuff her hands. Then I hear my name as if a child calls a parent with need, trust, and desperation. “Taylor!” I straighten up to get to Mr. Grey but his voice comes even more forceful. “Tayloooor!” I am next to him in three seconds. “Hold my girl!” he says, trusting Mrs. Grey’s wounded body into my arms. I hold her with my heart breaking. My fucking nose burns, and some tears pool up behind my eyes which I push back. I fixate my gaze on the writhing body of Hyde on the floor who is screaming like a howler monkey. That stops the tears in their tracks. Sawyer is pointing his gun at him, and I hear more screeching cars. When Hyde sees Mr. Grey with nothing but murder in his eyes, the

fucker stands up and starts skipping like a kangaroo as he’s holding his bloodied leg trying to run away. Mr. Grey speeds up, and for a moment I think he’s flying, because his feet are off the ground, and when he lands again, he’s on top of Hyde and they’re tumbling on the ground. The fight begins. Welch and his men are already on the ground stealthily dressed like the former Black-ops they are and scanning the buildings and the vicinity with their guns drawn checking if there’s any additional threat. Sawyer joins them. Not two minutes later he rushes out with someone in his arms. “Mr. Grey! Your sister is here!” he shouts, and that breaks something else in Mr. Grey and he becomes a relentless machine delivering methodical blows on to Hyde. Two ambulances and police vehicles finally arrive, and they bring out a gurney to secure Mrs. Grey on as her husband fights her assailant. “Hold your hands up!” the cops shout not knowing who the victim is. Among the group of police officers, Detective Clark is there as well. When Mr. Grey head butts Hyde and continues to methodically and repeatedly punch him, the cops who have not been able to keep Hyde off the streets try to wrestle Mr. Grey off of his wife’s and sister’s kidnapper. It takes a football team of them to break his hold of Hyde who is by now barely holding onto his life. They pull Hyde away so the medics can tend him while trying to restrain Mr. Grey. But he manages to keep his focus on Hyde like a heat seeking missile and fights off the officers who are trying to hold him down. Within less than two minutes, he floors and subdues three of the cops. Other officers start drawing their guns. Detective Clark shouts his warning. “It’s enough Grey! You’ll kill him...” but Mr. Grey is very close to the gurney where the medics are treating Hyde’s injuries and he wants to get to him. Clark urges him to go to Mrs. Grey, but Mr. Grey has completely lost himself in his fury and grief and fights off two more cops to open his path to Hyde. There’s a lot of commotion and Clark isn’t capable of keeping the lid on his own fucking officers! One of the younger cops with an itchy trigger finger shouts: “Hands up or we’ll shoot!” Welch and his men are already stealthily surrounding the group of cops who are aiming their weapons at Mr. Grey. I have had enough of this shit sent to this man’s way today. It’ll be a cold day in hell if I let anyone shoot at him! “Detective, get your men to stand down! Keep them away from Grey! He’s distraught. Cut him some slack! I’ll take him!”

Clark shouts some shit at me saying this is his jurisdiction and Grey can’t take the law into his own hands! It’s not like the detective and the cops did a great job protecting the man’s wife and sister! He should be the one to talk! I point out the weapons directed at them, and if they don’t stand down, and fire a single shot directed at Grey, I will order to shoot! I will remove my boss from the ground if they leave him alone. Finally Clark is smart enough to give the order to stand down. His ass and the rest of the cops’ asses would be on the line had they shot Grey after his wife was beaten nearly to death and his sister’s condition is completely unknown! I approach Mr. Grey slowly, without making him feel like he’s cornered. His eyes are wild, glazed and he’s not himself. I hold my hands up to get to him. I’m his only friend here. It’s my job to protect him. “Mr. Grey! They’re taking Ana to the hospital,” coax him softly. Ana’s name brings him to the surface from whichever hell he’s been to. Please, she needs medical attention immediately!” I say letting him feel the urgency in my tone, but also let him know that she’s alive. He’s still crouched in a defensive posture, and I seize him in my grip from behind. He struggles in my hold, but the fight in him is gone, and he starts sobbing. “Don’t fight me Mr. Grey!” I soothe him. “Ana needs you…” and I soothe and coax him to the ambulance where his wife is getting the first medical help, and though one of the medics protest, Clark finally comes to his senses and tells them that it’s okay. I close the door behind him and slap the door twice letting the driver know he’s good to go to the hospital. I nod at Welch and once the ambulance is out of sight, they lower their weapons. “You were gonna shoot cops?” asks Clark incredulous. “Let’s put it this way. I wasn’t going to let your officers to shoot an innocent man who died a thousand deaths today with his wife’s kidnapping, beating, and we don’t know if she’s going to make through the day not to mention his sister! Put your fucking priorities straight, Detective! While upholding the law with your high ideals, you managed to allow that fucker…” I say pointing at Hyde, “to nearly kill off a man’s family. Grey’s wife is pregnant! Hyde made her lie to her husband making him believe she was leaving him so Grey wouldn’t follow her. Made her withdraw five fucking million dollars to pay for the ransom for his sister! Christian Grey has had more shit to deal with today than you could ever deal with, in your lifetime. Put yourself in his

place, then speak. Hyde clearly used Mr. Grey’s sister as a bait to lure Mrs. Grey! Do you really want fuck a man like Grey and get him to be your enemy for allowing this to happen? I suggest that you and your crew clean this shit up and make sure that those scumbags never see the light of day!” “Welch, secure everything, and have your men escort Miss Grey’s ambulance. Sawyer’s already left after Mrs. Grey’s ambulance.” I say. “This is my crime scene!” barks Detective Clark. “Good luck with that,” I say to Welch and walk to the SUV to drive to the hospital. The first thing I do is to call Mr. Grey on the phone. “This is Carrick Grey,” he answers the phone. “Mr. Grey, this is Taylor. There’s been an incident sir, and I suggest you and your wife go to the hospital immediately.” “What?” he asks shocked and worried. I hear the leather of his chair squeak as he abruptly stands up. “Is it Christian?” “No. It’s Miss Mia. I’m assuming you relented on her security, and she was kidnapped by none other than Jack Hyde and by the looks of it he drugged your daughter and used her as a bait to lure Mrs. Grey for a ransom. So she in return told your son she was leaving him, withdrew five million dollars to save Miss Mia. And now she’s beaten half to death, fighting for her life!” I shout. I hear an agonized gasp on the phone, but I am on a roll. Had he not consented for Miss Mia to leave without her security detail, this wouldn’t have happened today. “How are they?” he asks in a choked voice. “I don’t know sir. Mrs. Grey is beaten up, bruised, and unconscious. Her life might be in danger. Your son,” I say enunciating, “is going out of his mind. He nearly lost the only person he ever loved. He can use a parent right about now,” I say speaking way out of turn, and I want to be even more out of turn telling him not to have any of that highhanded ‘I’ll give you the distance you want, shit’ because I too have reached my limit but I hold my tongue. I just want to find Gail and hold her as long as I can the first chance I get.

“Mr. Grey really needs someone who can show him that they love and care for him, sir,” I say. “Which hospital Taylor?” “Northwest Hospital in Seattle. I’ll see you there sir. I’m going there myself, now.” “Taylor! Thank you for looking after my son!” he thanks me in a grief stricken voice. “Yeah…” I say and put the SUV in gear.

“…you may kiss me, and cry; and wring out my kisses and tears: they'll blight you - they'll damn you. You loved me - what right had you to leave me? What right - answer me - Because misery, and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have

parted us, you, of your own will did it. I have not broken your heart you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine. So much

the worse for me that I am strong. Do I want to live? What kind of living will it be when you - Oh, God! would you like to lie with your soul in the grave?”

Emily Brontë

BABY, WAKE UP My wife lies motionless, her fingertips cool. The only indication I have of her being alive is the steady beep from the heart monitor. The ambulance blares through the city and find its way to the hospital. “I need you baby! I want you to fight…for you, for me, for our baby,” I whisper. “Please Ana,” I beg, and my lips tremble with a choking sob. “Wake up baby… I can’t live without you. Why didn’t you come to me? Why Ana?” I agonize. “I love so much, baby… I need you,” I utter my love for her in a low voice. I Want Love – Elton John

“What injuries does she have?” I ask as I violently rub the streaming tears away from my face with my fisted hands. My teeth clenched, my body is rigid, and I have never felt this helpless. Not in a very very…very long time. Not since I was four. “We’re just trying to stabilize the patient, sir. The ER doctors will inform you just as soon as they’re done evaluating her condition!” one of the medics say and continue strapping my wife, and putting on various needles and lines into her delicate arms. Several long minutes later, the ambulance arrives at the hospital and there’s another flurry of movements as number of nurses and doctors rushing to take her in. “Talk to me!” says a female doctor to the medics. “Level II trauma. Suspected facial or cranial fractures with no airway compromise. We have not determined if there’s any internal bleeding. Husband said that the patient is pregnant. Doesn't have cardiac injuries, but possible broken ribs. Didn't have time to check the pelvic injuries, but she has extensive bruising. No arterial bleeding or spinal cord injury. Extremities might have multiple fractures. No penetrating trauma, but has head injuries, and she must be checked for cerebral hemorrhage. She's been unresponsive...” he continues as I run after them, but they shut the door and effectively keep me out of the Trauma center where they are examining her. “She’s MY WIFE!” I shout as I struggle with the security to enter into the room. “And we’ll do everything to stabilize her, and keep her alive, sir. You won’t be helping us if you are in the room. Let the doctors do their jobs!” “She needs me!” I agonize. “She needs the medical attention more!” says an older nurse approaching me. “I know this very is difficult for you. But you will be helping her if you just let the doctors do their job. They will come out and inform you of her condition just as soon as they stabilize her. Please, sit down, sir…” she says, trying to lead me away from the door. “I got him!” says a familiar firm voice. “Come on Mr. Grey. She’ll be alright. We saved her. We saved Mia, too.” “Oh, Mia! Where’s Mia?” I ask absently. The medics counted several injuries Ana sustained and I'm worried to death.

“They took her here as well. I’m sure she’s in one of these rooms. We’ll find out soon enough. How about we fill out the paperwork while we are waiting for the ER doctors to come to talk to you?” he coaxes me. “Christian!” cries out a distressed woman’s voice. I look up, and my mom and dad both barrel down the emergency room and they both take me into their tight embrace. “What happened?” she asks in sobs. My dad looks at her admonishingly and shakes his head. “How’s Ana, and where’s Mia?” “We just got here mom, and I’m not allowed to be in there with my wife!” I utter in a monotonous voice as shock is finally taking over my body and emotions, shutting me down. “I have to find my daughter!” my mother sobs getting up. I vaguely notice that she has her white doctor’s coat on. “Nurse!” she calls one of the admitting nurses. “Yes, Dr. Grey?” she answers. “I need to find a patient. Mia Grey,” she says her voice cracking with my sister’s name. My dad goes to her and holds her in his arms. “She’s been admitted a short while ago, doctor. She’s was administered large doses of Rohypnol, and some tranquilizer which we have not been able to determine yet,” the nurse says looking at her tablet. She leads them towards the desk to give them more information. “Mr. Grey?” Taylor says softly. “Let’s finish the paperwork, sir,” he says bent out of shape to keep me, to keep my mind occupied. I can’t keep my mind on the documents. Taylor starts filling them. “Mr. Grey, does Mrs. Grey have any known allergies?” he asks. “Huh?” I ask not comprehending. “Does Mrs. Grey have allergies?” he repeats.

“No... No she doesn’t.” For the next half hour, Taylor keeps me engaged, and make every possible effort to keep my mind out of the trauma room. When a doctor finally comes out of the trauma room, I stand up and meet her. “Anastasia Grey?” I ask. “Are you next of kin, sir?” “I’m her husband, Christian Grey,” I say, and she smiles. “We’ve stabilized Mrs. Grey, and she’s being taken into a private room. You may go and stay with her, sir. In fact I’ll take you to her,” she says, and I follow her on her wake. Taylor closely and protectively follows behind. I enter into a large room similar to Ray’s current room. She’s hooked on various apparatus, and lines. “What are her injuries Doctor?” “Bartley. I’m Doctor Bartley. Mrs. Grey’s ribs are bruised, Mr. Grey and she has a hairline fracture to her skull,” she says and I gasp. “But her vital signs are stable and strong,” she adds in response to my reaction. I’m not convinced. “Why is she still unconscious, then?” I ask. “Mrs. Grey has had a major contusion to her head. But her brain activity is normal, and she has no cerebral swelling. She’ll wake up when she’s ready. Just give her some time,” she reassures me. Hearing Anastasia will be okay, gives me a degree of hope. But I won’t be okay if she lost our baby. Because I know she won’t be okay. She wanted junior. She wanted our baby. My baby. “And the baby?” I ask anguished, distraught. “The baby’s fine, Mr. Grey,” she replies and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Oh, thank God!” I praise, relieved. “Oh, thank God…”

My family is intact. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I have my family, my wife, my baby. Nothing else matters… Nothing… Nothing Else Matters - Metallica

CHAPTER III HALF OF MY HEART

I collapse in a chair by her bed. Then gently hold her hand with no attachments, and bury my face in it. Fragile - Stevie Wonder & Sting

“I’ll leave you alone with her, Mr. Grey. But we will conduct additional tests to confirm her stability and progress, and of course to see if there are any changes to her condition.” When I look up to thank the doctor, I can only nod in response. Now that the adrenaline is running out, I feel a kaleidoscope of emotions; relieved, exhausted, angry, cautiously optimistic, in love, and in a punishing mood starting with my wife. And by God if she ever tries to pull anything like that again, I will spank the shit out of her! As the doctor walks out, I see Taylor by the door, his lips thinned into a tight line, his jaw clenched, his eyes staring at the light pointedly which is a trick I have used in the past to prevent shedding tears. Taylor too is relieved, upset, worried and angry about Anastasia. He clears his throat. “I’m glad Mrs. Grey’s prognosis is positive, sir. I’ll go talk to Sawyer and Welch and see where we are.”

I nod. “Tell Welch, I need to see him as soon as he’s done with the…” my voice breaks, I stop, take a breath and continue, “…scene. And find out where they took the fucking bastard.” “Yes, sir,” he replies. As he opens the door to exit, Gail is standing on the other side of it, her hand held up as she gets ready to knock the door. I can see Taylor’s eyes soften, and something in him melts. His lip quivers, but he doesn’t say anything. He just holds her in his embrace, and presses his lips firmly on her forehead and holds her there for long few minutes. Wordlessly they look at each other, and she nods understanding he has a job to do, and lets him walk away. Gail’s eyes are red rimmed, and though she’s impeccably dressed in her usual professional manner, she looks bewildered and out of sorts. “Mr. Grey! I came as soon as I could. How is Mrs. Grey?” she asks dabbing her eyes with a crumpled tissue in her hand. “Her prognosis is positive so far, Gail,” I say with difficulty. “Oh, Mr. Grey,” she says and makes her way to me in rapid steps. In an unguarded moment, she opens her arms in the gesture of a hug, but realizes who she’s trying to hug, and holds back, but, I hold my hand up and gently touch her shoulder. “I know, Gail,” I say nodding. “Is the… is the baby okay?” she asks tentatively. “Yes…” I say relieved. “Yes, the baby is okay.” “Thank God!” she sighs relieved, reflecting my sentiment. The door to Ana’s room swings open forcefully as the teary eyed Katherine Kavanagh rushes in followed by my brother Elliot. She makes a beeline to Ana’s side. “What happened to her?” she asks partly accusatory because only a day ago I called her looking for Anastasia when she spent the night in the playroom. “Kate!” Elliot says admonishing, and then he comes and holds me in a bear hug. I find myself reciprocating and needing his embrace. When we let go of each other, I notice

that he still has his hard hat on his head, work clothes, and steel toed construction boots. “Dad called on his way here. I rushed from work and Kate from hers,” he says in a choking voice. “He said Mia is at the hospital too and that it was Hyde who kidnapped them and you and your men rescued them, but didn’t have time to explain a whole a lot because he was rushing to the hospital. What the fuck happened?” "Mr. Grey, I'll leave you with your family, and come back and check on Mrs. Grey later," Gail says, and I give her a broken smile in response. “My personal hell unleashed…” I say in hoarse voice. And like Taylor did earlier, I find myself looking into the light to prevent shedding my mutinous tears. “The details are just surfacing. I’m waiting for Welch to come and give the particulars of the bigger picture. But we have a general idea,” I say running my hands through my face and my hair. I swallow and then I sink back to my chair, and hold Anastasia’s hand, gently kissing it all over. Kate moves by the side of my brother, holding onto him, she wipes away her tears and finally she buries her face into his chest. He tightens his embrace on her; it kills me that I can’t do to my wife right now as she lies in her bed silently. Oxygen is being given to her to aid her breathing in order to help her heal her body faster, but she can breathe on her own. I caress the hand I take into my gently, kiss it once again, and cover it with my other hand. My gaze fixed on my wife’s still face, I continue. “I had to go to Portland for business. Right before Taylor and I flew back, we got word that Ana wasn’t well, and was going home. As soon as I landed in Seattle, my world just fell apart. Sawyer called and said that Ana ran away from Escala.” Katherine lifts her head up from Elliot’s chest looking at me with widened eyes first, but then she narrows them. “I received a phone call from my bank telling me that Anastasia was withdrawing five million dollars. I thought that confirmed that she was leaving me-“ “Ana would never do that! She doesn’t care for your money, Grey!” Kate defends her best friend. “I know,” I say in a small voice, disgusted of myself that others have more trust in her than I let myself trust. It’s not a trust issue, maybe. More that I’m not worthy of her. “But I didn’t know what to think. I asked her if she was leaving me, and she first said, no, but a second later she said yes. She said yes!” I say my voice unrecognizable, the

pain is fresh. “My entire world was crumbling. Finally when Taylor got a phone call saying Hyde was released on bail, I called Ana back to prevent her from following through whatever crazy scheme she was going to follow against Hyde, but she wouldn’t answer the phone. We rushed to the bank but Hyde was working with Elisabeth Morgan! I didn’t know she was partners in crime with him... She worked with Anastasia every day at SIP!” I utter in pain. “Elisabeth and Hyde kidnapped Mia, and we understood later that he blackmailed Ana, and that’s why she was withdrawing the money. She could have told me, but she didn’t and broke my heart and went to meet the fuckers to pay his ransom and save Mia! I’m so angry with her, with myself, with everyone!” “I’m extremely angry with her, myself! What the hell was she thinking? Why would she think that she could handle this psycho and his maniac assistant? She could have… she could have…” says Kate unable to bring her sentence to a close, she starts crying again. “We tracked her phone to locate her. When we got there, she shot the fucker Hyde on the leg after he beat her an inch of her life. So here we are.” I say as both Elliot and Kate look at me with the identical shocked expressions. “She did what?” Kate squeaks in a high pitched noise. “She shot Hyde. But by the time we arrived at the scene, Ana was unconscious with her sustained injuries, and Mia was drugged. Seeing my wife on the cold concrete nearly dead, Mia lulling lifeless in Sawyer’s arms, I lost myself and I nearly killed Hyde for what he did to them and now here you are witnessing my worst nightmare come true,” I say shrugging. I see my brother go rigid, his lips thinned, his eyes darkened with malice which is a mood I have never seen him in. “I’m sorry Christian!” he says. “Ana risked her life for our sister. It’s the most courageous, and selfless thing anyone had ever done for our family,” he says words choking him. “Not to mention the stupidest!” Kate shouts. “Shhhh! You must be quiet. Mrs. Grey is supposed to be resting, not having a convention in her room! She has been through a trauma,” admonishes a middle aged bulky nurse as she closes the door behind her. Her name tag reads “Nora, RN”.

“I’m here to check her vitals, and we will take her to do some tests and scan her brain activity.” “I thought the doctor said her brain function was normal,” I say alarmed. “And we’d like to keep it that way. That’s why she is in a hospital so we can monitor her, Mr. Grey. We must see all the changes in her -- good or bad so that we can take necessary steps to prevent the undesired outcomes and make sure her treatment is making the progress we desire,” she says as she takes Ana’s temperature, marks her chart with inputs from the several monitors that are in the room. “If you don’t mind, I will have to examine Mrs. Grey’s body, and I'd like to keep her modesty. She will need some privacy,” says Nurse Nora wanting to kick everyone out. “Uhm. Yeah, we’ll visit tomorrow again. We’ll go and find Mia and Mom and dad,” Elliot says as he tags Kate's hand and they exit the room. “I want to stay,” I say to Nurse Nora with unblinking eyes. “But Mr. Grey, she will need her privacy.” “Don’t worry Nurse Nora! I’ve seen my wife’s body before. I will remain in the room,” I say. “She may not want you to see her like this; most patients don’t—“ she repeats her protest. “I’m not leaving!” I growl, and she begrudgingly sighs and continues her examination of my wife. She doesn’t pull the sheet down but opens different sections and checks the bruising, and takes notes on her chart. When she’s nearly done with her check-up, two technicians appear at the door. I look at the nurse questioning; worried. “We have to take Mrs. Grey for an MRI,” she explains. “Why?” “She has a contusion to the head and a hairline fracture as Mrs. Grey’s doctor told you. That must be monitored. I’m sure one of her attending physicians can explain the purpose of her MRI scan to you, Mr. Grey.” “How long will she be gone?”

“The MRI scan is about thirty minutes. Would you like the attending Physician to come and talk to you? Dr. Singh is on duty right now.” “Yes. I need to get more information. But, first, I want to go with my wife.” "We can't take you to the MRI room Mr. Grey. The hospital rules require us to only take the patient. Perhaps you'd like to talk to the Doctor first." You said thirty minutes? I'll wait," I say and she nods at the technicians. When Anastasia is wheeled out of her room, I follow her outside, and find Taylor standing at the door. “Where’s Welch?” I ask. “He tied up the loose ends with the police and he’s on his way here, sir,” he says. “What loose ends?”

“I had Welch's men pull guns on the police, sir, when you were trying to get to Hyde, and they trained their guns on you, ready to shoot. That loose end…” “Will they get arrested?” “I hardly think so, sir. The police and the judicial system fucked this up so much that they are going to be only more cooperative with us. Not after what went down, and

how ineffective the cops were in apprehending Hyde. You don’t need to worry about that. Welch got his foot so high up in the Police Department’s ass, they’ll be shitting out nails and his expensive leather for the next two months!” “What about the court and the bail?” “That’s another thing. Your lawyer decided to earn his keep, and managed to drag his thousand dollars an hour ass to the courthouse all day today since the fucker Hyde was released on confidential bail and your lawyers weren’t informed of it due to some convenient paperwork mix-up for 3 whole hours. By the time we learned about it this afternoon, Hyde had been free for six fucking hours! They were supposed to be informed of any attempt for bail! Not after the court sees no opposition from the aggrieved party, and releases a criminal to commit yet another crime within two hours of release!” he says angrily.

“Six hours?” I say stuck in the original declaration. Rage brews anew in me. I don’t know who to turn my wrath on to first. The police, Hyde, courts, the bail bondsman… “Some of the information is coming to light after your lawyer finally got fire lit under him. The bail that was granted to release Hyde was confidential. There were attempts to post the bail anonymously but that can’t be done. The confidential posting was in cash, and track of it stops at the poster. The poster has no prior relations, and his name so far is not released, and the bondsman has no prior knowledge of Hyde. It’s a virtual dead end. You know what that means sir...” he says raising his eyebrows.

“Yes. It’s a well-orchestrated plan to get Hyde out knowing what he would do to my family,” I reply seeing the malice in the scheme. “Exactly! When Welch gets here…” he says and Welch turns the corner to talk to the nurse’s station. Seeing us he makes his way towards the two of us with somber face. “Speaking of the devil…” says Taylor. “I’m sorry for Mrs. Grey and your sister, sir,” he starts. I nod. “Give me the deeds!” “It’s as you and Taylor suspected. I interviewed the bank manager, employees, and surveyed the crime scene. The last anyone heard from your sister or seen her was when she was at the gym. She had not taken her security with her, and your father confirms that he relented on it past few days. I worked out a deal where I or one of my men will get to listen in on the initial interrogations of Hyde and Morgan. Miss Morgan got a phone call from Hyde this morning. She swears up and down that she didn’t know he was getting out, and blackmailed her into—“ “Blackmailed her how?” I ask. “Apparently Hyde fucked her in ways that would totally ruin her reputation, and she couldn’t ever get a job in a respectable workplace, and apparently she comes from a conservative family. Her mom is still living. She said it would kill her mother if she found out.” “So, she opted on killing my family instead?” I ask with fury. “It appears that he didn’t give her much time to think. Apparently he forced her to cooperate before. She was the Dodge driver when your car was chased, for instance. He told her that he would leak the information to the media and make it look like it was all her idea. But then money got into the equation today and she was more than willing. Hyde promised her ½ of the take; though I have serious doubts that he would give her anything. It’s too early to speak, but I think he had all the intention to dispose of the women, sir, including Miss Morgan.” “What?” I ask my eyes wide, my nostrils flaring, my hands run to my hair. “It’s not set in stone yet, but there were horse tranquilizers enough to kill a couple of elephants, as well as makeshifts weights to tie to a body and dump into the ocean. Your sister was given a date rape drug called Rohypnol which is illegal to manufacture, sell

or use in the United States but doctors can order it from neighboring countries for medical purposes; it’s available in Mexico. You just can’t get it off the pharmacy shelf... Unless of course Hyde has had this plan in his back pocket for a while or someone provided him with those things beforehand. That's something we still have to discover.” “How can you be absolutely sure? Because if that’s the case, I want you to find each and every person so I can personally destroy them!” “Here’s the thing sir: Hyde was just released that morning. When did he have time to go to the doctor and convince a doctor to provide him this injection when it’s illegal to use it here? He didn’t. What’s more, maybe you can find the pill form of the drug from a dealer. But this was an injection, and harder to come by. Rohypnol is given for sleep disorders in its original purpose; it’s a sedative and starts its effect 15-20 minutes after administration, and just one dose’s effect may persist more than twelve hours, and this shit causes short term memory loss; that’s why it’s an effective date-rape drug. But there’s more… We found a chloroform bottle in the SUV. It was evident that he used that first on Miss Mia to knock her out. It was 900 ppm which I gave to the hospital so they can get a better idea what was forcefully administered to Miss Mia. The problem with that is sir; 500 ppm of chloroform poses immediate danger. And breathing what was administered to your sister even for a very short period can cause dizziness. That rag he held onto your sister’s face was soaked with it. She’s very lucky that she passed out immediately because even if she was to swallow 10 ml of chloroform, it could have killed her! We also found a syringe with a broken needle with the horse tranquilizer in it. They pulled the rest of the needle out of your sister’s shoulder I’m told. He probably ended up breaking the needle possibly in his nervous attempt to subdue Miss Mia. When that didn’t work he reached for the closest drug which was Rohypnol.” I listen to Welch’s account with growing fury; my vengeance is slowly brewing inside. I want to know everything that was planned so that no one ever attempts to harm anyone I love. When the time comes, I will exact my due with interest. They all fucked with the wrong man! “What else?” I ask completely in control, and impassive. “We also found about five-hundred thousand Dollars of cash in ten-thousand Dollar sleeves that is other than what Mrs. Grey had withdrawn from the bank. But that was Hyde’s personal stash which Miss Morgan swears up and down she had no idea about.

In fact she was quite surprised and angry to learn about it. Their forced relationship is already breaking down, and Miss Morgan was yapping like a particularly annoying parrot. She’ll bring Hyde down to save her own ass—“ “Tell my fucking lawyers that I want the fullest extent of law applied to both. I want you to locate the financier. I have my suspicions on a few people. I wrote the names down,” I say handing him my list. “Follow each one, each lead, account their whereabouts, phone records, associations without exception starting with the time Hyde’s identity was made public. Look for patterns. And I want you to find the connection. Hyde knows me; not just through the media, but before... way before. He's known me, and I want to know how, where, when. I don’t remember him, but I have a feeling that Michigan is the connection. Go to Detroit and find out what that connection is. He had parents. So, it wasn’t adoption; we weren’t brothers. But there’s something we are overlooking. I want you to find out what that is.” “Yes, Mr. Grey. I will have to put things in motion in Seattle first to follow the hot leads, and I will take off to Detroit.” “Good! I want to be informed of everything. Get the fucking lawyers on board, or I will fire the lot of them!” “Also, your assistant Andrea called, sir,” says Taylor. “What would you like to do about the press release? Apparently the reporters are camped outside of Escala, the Grey House, and of course they’re all over the hospital ground. I have men standing all over the building to prevent anyone slipping in to take a picture or get one of the nurses or orderlies to do so. A press release might alleviate part of that pressure on the hospital staff.” The idea that some paparazzi lurking around to get a shot of my wife’s beaten body, or my sister in her drugged stupor is unbearable. “Tell Andrea to have the PR release minimal information, but enough to take not make it worth the paparazzi’s while to sneak in here. Have them coordinate with the police department to see what information is to be kept confidential.” “Will do, sir.” Sawyer comes with a well-insulated restaurant bag. “We thought you might be hungry…” shrugs Taylor.

*****❦ ♡ ❧***** When Ana isn’t brought back to her room in forty-five minutes, I start getting nervous. When I go to the nurse’s station, I find Nora. “Yes, Mr. Grey,” she say looking over her half-moon glasses in a no-nonsense attitude. She looks like my third grade teacher Mr. Udanski. Their similarity is not in their appearance but their attitude. She gives me Mr. Udanski’s you look like a troublemaker, I’ve-got-my-eyes-on-you, look. If this woman had smile muscles, they’ve lost their function with limited use some time ago. “My wife isn’t back yet. You said the MRI was going to take thirty minutes. It’s been forty-five minutes.” “Yes, I said that. The process, scanning her brain will take about thirty minutes. I didn’t tell you how long it was going to take it for them to prep her for it. And besides, MRI lab isn’t on this floor. She is taken to the Radiology which is in the Outpatient building.” “What the fuck!” “Mr. Grey, do not speak to me in that tone!” she says with her hands on her hips. “You’re asking me the information about Mrs. Grey's scanning which I am providing. There is no need for you to use profanity!” “Get me the fucking doctor immediately!” When she looks at me with a blank expression, “Now!” I shout making the other nurses turn heads, and a few of the visitors sticks their heads out of the rooms. Nora, unfazed shakes her head, and picks up the intercom and pages the doctor. Taylor takes out the hospital map out of his pocket and locating outpatient center runs out of the corridor to find Anastasia. Dr. Singh shows up in a few minutes just as I’m fuming with last drop in my cup. “How can I help you Mr. Grey?” she asks. Her face falls when she notices my unyielding, furious expression. “Is something the matter?” “My security personnel specifically informed the hospital the circumstances which involved my wife and sister. My wife has been taken for MRI fifty-one minutes ago. Nora here has informed me that she would be gone thirty minutes. And now she tells

me that the Radiology is located at the Outpatient Center. I was not allowed to accompany my wife. Had I known where she was being taken, I would make sure that I would go along with our personal security. I’m sure the hospital administration made you aware of the reporters and the paparazzi camped around the hospital, and here you are allowing my wife to be transported to the Outpatient Center without any protection! Do you know how angry I am? Would you like it if your battered and bruised body was the centerfold in a gossip magazine? Do you realize the psychological damage it could do to her once she finds out?” “Mr. Grey! No such thing happened. I’m sure she’s taken with our regular precautions which are plenty. Yes, there is an outpatient Diagnostics and Imaging Center at the hospital located in the outpatient center, but that’s only for patients who are not checked into the hospital. We have another one for patients that are…” “Dr. Singh,” nurse Nora calls. “There was a backlog of several patients for the Inpatient Imaging which is why it shows here that Mrs. Grey is taken to the Outpatient Center. That’s why I informed Mr. Grey as such.” “Oh, dear!” Dr. Singh exclaims and rushes to the desk to grab a phone. She gets into a heated argument with someone on the phone. “This is not the protocol! I don’t care how the patient is sent! …” she says pausing. “I have NOT authorized it! Do you have the patient or not?” Her face blanches, and my blood rushes to my head, my breathing speeds up. I can’t believe this is happening again. “When?” I dial Taylor. “Where are you?” “On my way to the Diagnostics,” he says as I hear his rapid footfalls. He must be running. “I have Ryan on site, but they’re refusing to give information to him about Mrs. Grey. Have the Doctor authorize it so we can make sure she’s there,” he says, and I hear him say something to someone.

“Dr. Singh!” I shout, she looks up from the phone. “One of my men is at the Outpatient Diagnostics Center. Name’s Ryan. Have him grant access to my wife, now!” “Your man is the third person who wanted to have access to Mrs. Grey in the last hour. That’s why they locked her in after your man entered and they were calling the security!” “Do they have my wife in there or not?” “I’m told that they locked her in with two technicians in the MRI lab. Some other guy named Taylor is there now asking for your wife.” “Let Taylor in!” I shout at the doctor. “Taylor, are you there?” “Hang on a minute…” he says and the voices turn into shouts. “Taylor! Taylor! What the hell is going on?” I start breathing heavily. “Mr. Grey, the receptionist says that there’s an altercation between your men, the security and couple of unnamed individuals,” Dr. Singh reports as her ear is glued to the phone, her eyes wide, unbelieving. “Where the hell is the Diagnostics?” I ask. Nurse Nora gives me a detailed map and she wisely says nothing for a change. I run full speed and Sawyer who is waiting outside of the doors to Ana’s unit looks up and sees me running, and follows. “I heard,” he says tapping his ear piece. By the time we make it to the Outpatient Center, we can see the police cars and one frowning Detective Clark. Taylor follows two men who are handcuffed and the cops are interviewing a bloody nosed hospital security. Taylor’s shirt is partially untucked, but other than that he doesn’t have a scratch on him. “Ana?” I ask. “She’s inside. There are nurses with her, and she’s being cared for,” he says, and I notice the smashed Nikon camera.

“Did you check their person? Cell phone or any other item?” “Yes. They’re all in police custody, and I’m sure they’ll collect this as evidence. Mrs. Grey is inside the lab. They will take her back to her room immediately,” he says. When he sees my expression on my face, he continues. “She was never in danger, sir. She was in the lab, being tested the entire time. The rooms are locked and the staff noticed that those two fuckers were paparazzi. At least the hospital did one thing right: They warned their staff to be vigilant against paparazzi and reporters.” The hospital Director makes his way towards us nervously in quick steps. “Mr. Grey! I’m sorry for this incident, sir. We’ve tried to take the necessary precautions as soon as we were informed of the reporters and paparazzi and…” “Do you realize that my unconscious wife’s security was compromised?” “We assure you sir, we will do everything in our power to ensure Mrs. Grey’s privacy and security-“ starts a woman in a smart business suit in her late 30s. “Who the hell are you?” “I’m Marilyn Beaumont. I’m the Director of PR at the Hospital.” “I don’t want your assurances, promises, or your PR pitch Miss Beaumont. What I want is real security. From now on, I want to accompany my wife in every room she’s taken even if it is the surgery room, and I want my security team to have access to all paths, ins and outs of the places my wife is to be taken. I want you to search every staff member who has had access to my wife’s care to have their cell phone memory checked. Because if I find one grainy image of my wife that might even resemble her in even a kiddie paper, I swear to everything that is Holy, I will sue the shit out of this hospital!” I hiss menacingly. Both the director of PR and the Hospital Manager turn white as ghosts. “We are ready to move Mrs. Grey back to her room. I’m sure you’d want to go with her, sir,” says one of the technicians who wheeled her out earlier. “Mr. Grey, I’m sorry –“ starts Clark cutting my way. “Not now, Clark!” I hold my hand.

“I need a statement!” Taylor cuts his path. “Mr. Grey said not now, Detective. He’s accompanying his wife back to his room.” “Alright. Tomorrow then!” he says with a promise in his voice.

*****❦ ♡ ❧***** Love is a fire that burns unseen, a wound that aches yet isn’t felt, an always discontent contentment, a pain that rages without hurting, a longing for nothing but to long, a loneliness in the midst of people, a never feeling pleased when pleased, a passion that gains when lost in thought. It’s being enslaved of your own free will; it’s counting your defeat a victory; it’s staying loyal to your killer. But if it’s so self-contradictory, how can Love, when Love chooses, bring human hearts into sympathy? Luís de Camões “Mr. Grey, your wife is doing well. There’s nothing to worry about. Her one hour stay away from her room didn’t compromise her well-being, because she was being cared for on the hospital grounds.” “You’ll excuse me if I have a hard time believing in that statement doctor.”

“I understand your concern as a loved one…” she says pausing. The understatement of the century: concerned as a loved one. “I have her scan results sent here, and I will show the findings,” she says. Her laptop screen livens up as she moves her mouse. Then she double clicks an icon and finds my wife’s name in the list. Then she opens it. “We’re looking at Mrs. Grey’s brain here. When a patient has a cerebral contusion, that patient has a bruise in his or her brain tissue. She point to a region of her head where she fell. “In this region she’s suffered some small blood vessel leaks into the brain tissue, and our main concern was blood clots. But we’ve examined her brain thoroughly and we are still confirming that there’s no swelling in her brain tissue and she’s showing signs of progress.” “What are you giving her to help aid her healing?” “We are trying to help her body heal itself naturally. Because generally contusions are likely to heal on their own without medical intervention. But what we are giving her is fluids and vitamins for her and the baby, and the pain medication to manage her pain— “ she says and my eyes widen. She smiles. “Don’t worry Mr. Grey. It’s not harmful to the baby. This is another reason we are only using the absolutely necessary medication. We want to care for your baby’s well-being as well.” “Thank you Doctor Singh.” This is the longest day of my life, and by far the worst. I want to leave it behind me; I want my wife back, healthy, smiling and happy. When the doctor leaves her room, a male nurse comes and checks Ana’s vitals and leave. I sink back into the chair next to Ana’s bed and start keeping vigil next to her. In the matter of another hour, the nurse comes back in again, examines her vitals, and checks various parts of her body under the hospital gown. Then as he leaves, he says, “I will turn the lights down since it’s late. It’s better for the patient as well, sir,” he says, and dims the lights after I nod. When he’s gone I take the coffee Taylor brought from the local coffee shop and take a sip as I watch my Ana in the semi darkness. The only sounds in her hospital room are the ones from the machines. Ana remains in her bed

motionless. Not a single toe or finger or eyelid moves. I lean in and move the hair fallen onto her face. Nurse Nora cleaned her body from dust and dirt after she was taken into her room, giving her a sponge bath. I put the coffee cup back and lean into her. “I really miss you baby… Please come back to me,” I whisper. Giving her a gentle kiss, I sit back and hold her hand, placing kisses all over it. “I love you Ana. I don’t know how to express the intensity of my love for you sometimes. It is so overwhelming, it hurts. If I loved you any more, I don’t think I could function under normal circumstances. And… and my greatest fear has always been was losing you. Losing you to someone else who could be normal with you, or to something I’ve done in the past, or something I do to you or even to our baby. Sleeping at Last – Turning Page And today…” I say closing my eyes trying to dam the tears behind, “I thought I lost you for good because I was an ass with the way I reacted to the pregnancy. My greatest fear became my biggest nightmare. Just as I got a glimmer of hope… maybe, just maybe, you weren’t leaving me, I found you on the cold concrete, motionless, lifeless, and something in me died. My last shred of humanity vanished. You see Ana, there is no me without you! I can’t exist in a life where you are not a part of my day, where you’re not a part of a single hour of my life. You revived me when you met me, baby. I didn’t know I wasn’t living. You gave me life! You see baby, that’s why you have to live: for me and Junior. I’m ready to share you now. Just don’t leave me…” I say and realize that her hand I’m holding is soaked in my tears. There’s gentle knock on the door. I lift my head up to see who is coming in. It’s my Dad. One look at my face and he knows how shattered I am. “Jesus Christ, son!” he says and makes his way towards me. “Hi,” I say standing up, but he opens his arms, and holds me in a bear hug, kissing my temple. When he releases he holds his hands over my biceps and examines my face. “I’m sorry, Christian. I really am very sorry for Ana, for Mia, for you and your mother. Seeing you, my resilient son, broken like this is going to haunt me for a long time. What can I do, son? Tell me. Let me do something for you and Ana. I think you are very tired, exhausted. A good night’s sleep would help you. Go home, take a shower, and sleep a few hours. I’ll wait with Ana.” “I’m not leaving her,” I say unyielding.

“Christian, you should sleep.” “No, Dad. I want to be here when she wakes up.” “I will sit with her. It’s the least I can do after she saved my daughter,” he says and for the first time I fully remember that my sister is too in the hospital. “How’s Mia?” I ask with concern. “She’s groggy… scared and angry. It’ll be a few hours before the Rohypnol and the other drugs that were administered to her are completely out of her system.” “Christ.” “I know. I’m feeling seven kinds of foolish for relenting on her security. You warned me, but Mia is so stubborn. If it wasn’t for Ana here…” my dad says his voice breaking, as he reverentially watches Ana’s motionless body. “We all thought Hyde was out of the picture. And my crazy, stupid wife--- Why didn’t she tell me?” I lament in utter torment. Why? Why? Am I that hard to approach? Was she that angry with me that she didn’t want to talk to me about a life threatening danger? About Jack Hyde! Why wouldn’t she ask for my help? I’m dying with the agony of it. I could have lost her and our baby. In losing her, I would have lost me. I am strong that I wouldn’t die, but I would be tormented till the end of my life. How could I live with my soul in grave? “Christian, calm down. Ana’s a remarkable young woman. She was incredibly brave,” my dad says. “Brave and headstrong and stubborn and stupid,” I utter between my suffocating sobs that I try to push down. “Hey…” my dad murmurs his hand in my hair. “Don’t be so hard on her, or yourself, son… I’d better get back to your mom. It’s after three in the morning, Christian. You really should try to sleep. You look beat son. This has been a day of realizations… Go to sleep, start the day fresh,” he says and hugs me. I sink back in my chair, and as I hold Anastasia’s hand, I drift into an uneasy sleep.

*****❦ ♡ ❧*****

Someone turns the lights on early in the morning. I blink and try to sit up in my chair stretching. My arms and legs are sore. As soon as I remember where I am, I find myself calling for Ana. “She’s right here, Mr. Grey. I’ll check her vitals, empty her catheter bag, and give her a sponge bath, and then I’ll be out of your hair. Her doctor will make the rounds in about two hours,” says Nora as she continues with her tasks. She replaces the IV bag, checks her monitors and completes other tasks. Taylor comes in with breakfast for me. “Thank you Taylor,” I say. He nods. “How is Mrs. Grey sir?” he asks with his voice taking a hard edge. He shifts foot to foot and then clears his throat. “Gail, Sawyer, and Ryan want to know.” “She looks the same. But last night the doctor said she was improving. I just want her to wake up.” “I’ll tell ‘em,” he says, and as his hand reaches the door handle he stops. He’s struggling to say something. “Spit it out, Taylor. You helped rescue my wife and sister.” “Here it goes, then... I am very angry at Mrs. Grey for pulling this shit by herself! Facing that mother fucker and his bitch accomplice. For not coming to us… We could have avoided… " he says and pauses. "...Sawyer was devastated, and angry at her and at himself for having been tricked twice. He’s holding himself responsible for Mrs. Grey being in the hospital.” “I’ll talk to Sawyer. My wife is stubborn, and mulish when it comes to her way of thinking. Anything else?” “Yes. They told me to speak on their behalf. We’re all very, very happy that she’s well and on the mend,” he says without turning to face me, his voice soft. I know exactly how he feels. My wife has conquered the hearts and minds of all my staff. She’s managed to piss them off royally, and worry them to death at the same time. “Oh. Welch told me to tell you that the money recovered from the crime scene has been held as evidence, and it will be released today. He will take it back to bank unless you

don’t want him to. They’ve already fingerprinted Mrs. Grey’s Blackberry and it has only her fingerprints, so that’s been returned. I have it here with me. And just I was coming here, her dad called her, but I didn’t answer. I thought you’d like to know.” “I haven’t told him yet, but he’s a floor down from here. Do me a favor. I don’t want to leave Anastasia. Go see Mr. Steele and briefly explain him what happened, and tell him Ana’s in the same hospital. I’m sure he would want to come and see her. I would go and talk to him, but I just don't want to leave Ana’s side. Apologize for me.” “Yes, sir,” he says and leaves. Now comes the task of informing Ana’s mom. Georgia is three hours ahead of Seattle. I’m sure she’s already up. I take a deep breath, and dial. “Hello?” “Hi Carla. It’s Christian,” I say. “How nice to hear from you Christian! How are you?” “I’m…” how am I? Devastated, aged fifteen years overnight, broken, hurt, unstable, still in love with my wife who is currently fighting for her life, and about to be a dad which is scaring the shit out of me. “I’m okay, Carla.” Start it and get over it! I remind myself. “How’s Ana?” “That’s why I called you. Ana’s in a hospital.” “What? What’s wrong with my baby?” “She was kidnapped yesterday, and we’ve rescued her. She’s in a hospital in Seattle right now.” “Oh my Lord! I’m coming to Seattle!” she shouts crying. “Mrs. Adams… Carla… You don’t need to do that. And if Ana sees you so upset, it’ll make it harder for her to heal. She’s fragile right now.” “Can I talk to her, please?”

“I wish you could, but I’m afraid not. She’s still unconscious. I’ll update you on her condition when there is something new. The doctors said that she’s on the mend. Her body needs this downtime to rebuild.” “Can you make absolutely sure that those doctors do everything in their power to heal my baby?” she asks between sobs. “I promise, Carla.” “Take care of my baby, Christian.” “I will.” I hear a scuffle outside Ana’s door, and an ornery man arguing with a nurse. “Sir, you must remain in your wheelchair! You’ve been in an accident!” his nurse chides. “Is my daughter behind this door or not?” “Yes, she is Ray,” I answer him. “Bring his wheelchair in nurse.” She nods repeatedly as if her off switch is broken while she’s dreamily gazing at me. I don’t think I can look deserving of that reaction since I slept in my day old clothes and I’m completely disheveled. “Taylor told me of the stupid shit she pulled! I’m so damn angry with her stubborn attitude. She could have been killed!” “She nearly did!” “Why would she try to play the hero on her own instead of coming to you? Didn’t she have any care for her life? Didn’t she think what it would do to you, to me, to her MOTHER which I’m sure I’ll be hearing an earful soon!” “She didn’t come to me… I thought she was leaving me. I didn’t know it otherwise until we heard that Hyde, the man who kidnapped her was released on bail.” “Christian I’m sorry! I've aged within the last thirty minutes! I’ve nearly had a heart attack! She’s my only child! She’s my little girl!” he says squeezing the branch of his nose to halt his tears. He opts for anger, because anger is easier to deal with.

Ray half raises his body off the wheel chair, and holds his right index finger to make a point. “Christian! I’m so damn angry at Ana right now, if you don’t take her across your knee, I sure as hell will. What the hell was she thinking?” he shouts. His remark surprises me. My eyes brighten for the first time since we had a fight. “Trust me, Ray, I just might do that.” “Mr. Steele, you are getting your blood pressure up. How about you come and visit your daughter this evening? And besides, I hooked you off some of your monitors. Your doctors may not be very happy about it, sir,” says his nurse nervously. “Alright! I don’t want you to get in trouble, just as long as you get me back here tonight,” Ray replies. “Keep me posted on her condition, Christian,” he says in a grave voice. “I will. You go take care of yourself now.”

*****❦ ♡ ❧***** “You have some delivery here,” says a bright cheerful candy striper who looks like a retired teacher. “Let’s see here. This lovely bouquet is for Mrs. Grey…” she says and deposits pink roses. She goes back to her cart and checks, then finds more flowers and puts them on various spots in the room. “She nearly emptied her cart! They must really love her!” she cheers. “Have a good day!” she says and someone opens the door for her as I give her the semblance of a smile. “Mr. Grey,” says Detective Clark. Taylor stands at the door with an impassive face, his feet apart, his hands clasped on his back. But I know that look that says, ‘do you want me to throw this asshole out?’ I shake my head imperceptibly. “I… uhm… was hoping I could speak to Mrs. Grey,” he says. Taylor gives him the ‘areyou-for-real’ look. “Detective, as you can see, my wife is in no state to answer any of your questions!” I say angrily. But what Clark has in his eyes for Anastasia is reverence.

“I know I wanted to see how she was after yesterday. She’s a headstrong young woman, Mr. Grey.” “I wish she killed the fucker!” I respond. He smiles without disagreeing with me. “That would have meant more paperwork for me, Mr. Grey… but then again she would have done service to humankind.” “What do you mean?” “I had time to question his accomplice. And Miss Morgan is singing like the proverbial canary. Hyde’s a twisted son of a bitch. He has a serious grudge against you and your father…” That changes my focus. “Did she say why?” “She doesn’t know the ‘why’, but she knows that Hyde's dislike is irrational, violent, and full blown hatred.” “If the bitch already knew that, and already suspected what Hyde can and did do to my wife and sister, how could she be a part of his mad scheme? Had she not a shred of humanity, compassion left in herself?” I hiss. “Hyde was blackmailing her. She said that she succumbed to his charms a few years ago, and he had hard core, deviant, and rough sexual relationship with her, and recorded everything. But there's more. The kind of shit he’s done to her and with her isn’t the kind you want to write home about. If she didn’t cooperate, he was going to mail all her bondage, and multi-partner sexual acts to all the employees at SIP and distribute online for free. She panicked and feared him so much that she obeyed everything he ordered her to do!” “Obeyed? She didn’t have a mind of her own in deciding what is right and wrong? This is not a consensual sexual act she was committing. This act directly put the lives of two women in grave danger. This was a crime!" “I know that Mr. Grey. That brings up my earlier suspicion. The one I mentioned you and Mrs. Grey in Portland. In light of what Miss Morgan has revealed, we are going to call his former PAs again for an interview. Hyde won’t be able to talk for a while,” he says as he looks at me significantly. “But I am really looking forward to what he has to

say. Mr. Grey, I am very glad that you didn’t kill him. I would hate to take you in for involuntary manslaughter while you were clearly so distraught.” “That would still be self-defense considering he kidnapped my wife who is now unconscious, and my sister who is barely coming to herself.” “I’m happy to report that she’s awake, though still a bit groggy,” he says and opens his notebook. “Your sister said that Elisabeth Morgan came to her after she was out of the gym and told her that Mrs. Grey was sick at the hospital, and that she couldn’t reach you, and she needed a family member. She didn’t give her time to think, or talk. She was nervous, but now she thinks it was because of the act she was about the commit. And when she entered into Ms. Morgan’s vehicle she was drugged by Hyde. She doesn’t remember anything else until she woke up in the hospital. Taylor said you two were in Portland at the time her kidnapping.” “Yes.” “When did you get back…” he asks, and I recount the incidents up until we found Ana and Mia. Clark’s face is grim. Once the interview is over, he extends his hand. “You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Grey. You found a rare gem in Mrs. Grey. She must really love you to put her life in danger like that, for a member of your family. She also blocked Hyde’s advances towards her at SIP when Miss Morgan or his other assistants I’m betting failed. She’s been loyal to you all the way. Yes, sir. You are very lucky indeed,” he says and leaves. “What an odd thing to say…” I murmur. “It’s his way of saying he respects Mrs. Grey,” Taylor replies.

*****❦ ♡ ❧***** The doctor visited three times already and the nurse four. They’ve done their routine checks, and gave me the same reassurances I’ve been getting all day, but there’s not a single movement from my wife which is killing me. As I pace around the room, my gaze fixed on Anastasia, the door opens softly. My mother sticks her head in. “Hi, Christian! May I come in?”

“Of course mom,” I reply. “How are you, sweetheart?” “As good as can be expected under the circumstances.” “I talked to Ana’s doctor, and read her chart on my way in,” she says her eyes glinting. “I am to congratulate you! You two are going to make me a grandmother!” “Oh, mom! I’ve done some terrible things!” I say, my heart is tormented with the agony of what I had said to Anastasia. “What do you mean, Christian?” she says her voice changing. “I freaked out when she told me she was pregnant! Instead of falling onto my knees or swinging her around the room with joy, I yelled at her for her incompetence for forgetting her birth-control shot! When she started crying I asked her if she forgot to get the shot or if she got pregnant on purpose…” I say in a pained voice. “You didn’t!” "I did. I behaved horrendously!" “If you apologize to her when she wakes up, she'll forgive you.” “No, she won’t mom. I fucked up! I walked out on her! I was so angry! You see, my wife didn’t even tell me my sister was in danger, and she attempted to rescue her on her own, because I fucking wasn’t talking to her! I was only communicating with her through Gail or Taylor and Sawyer!” “What?” my mother says shocked. “What do you mean you weren’t talking?” her voice takes an angry tone. “I’ve done something I’m not proud of and it will torment me till the day I die, because she won’t forgive me for it.” “What did you do?” my mother asks forcefully. “Mom—“ I choke with my sobs.

“Christian! What did you do?” My mom demands. “I was so angry. So very angry,” I can’t help and the dam breaks lose. “Hey…” my mom soothes me taking me in her arm which I willingly go. “I don’t remember being this angry with someone in a…” I can’t think of the time. “…ever,” I finish. “When she said she was pregnant, all my insecurities resurfaced. All the fucking poisonous warnings everyone gave me were floating before my eyes. Dad…with the prenuptial… Elena with love being useless shit!” With Elena’s name my mom holds my face to look at me. “I walked out on Anastasia. I called Flynn, but he was unavailable. Then I started walking in the streets aimlessly. I found myself at her salon. I didn’t think anyone would be there at that time of the night. There she was locking up,” I say. My mother gives me an admonishing look. “I had no place to go mom! No one to talk to… Even the man I pay a truckload of money to listen to me wasn’t available to listen. I was drowning, and she was familiar, so we went to a bar for a drink.” “You could have come to us!” my mother admonishes. “I didn’t want to be judged. I didn’t want to be told how this could be a scheme by my wife to get my billions! Or I didn’t want to be told how a wonderful dad I would make when I know in reality, I’m shitty, useless…” I say my voice drowning. “And you thought the woman who took your innocence could provide better comfort to you than your own family?” “You don’t understand, mom! You’re perfect! A wingless angel! I see no fault in you… None. Then there’s dad. Smart, sane, always have an answer for the world’s problems, and mine. He has never done anything out of the norm, or abnormal. He too is perfect. I couldn’t go to Elliot! He’s never knocked anyone up, and Mia is too inexperienced to comprehend what I’m feeling. I needed someone who knew my flaws and just listen to me vent. In doing so, I hurt my wife! I made a mistake!” “You told me you’d cut all ties,” my mom admonishes in a quiet voice. “I know, I said that. But, I didn’t know what I was doing when I walked out on Ana. I had lost all control. I was walking aimlessly. We went for a drink and had a talk.”

“Is that all you did?” “Yes!” I say fervently. “I love my wife madly, mom! Yes, she drives me crazy like no one can, but she loves me like no one can, and I, her.” “If you tell me that you told Elena of Ana’s pregnancy as if you were talking of an abomination, I am going to be as angry with you as Ana was! Not only it is private, between you and your wife; but you going to Elena, and talking about her pregnancy in a tone that is hurtful to your wife, your future child and not to mention to me. It also devalues your relationship with Ana by going to someone she truly dislikes!” “I didn’t tell her of the pregnancy mom… I only said Ana wants us to have a baby; even that I regret saying. I needed the closure, the finality… And, seeing her finally put it all in perspective for me. Something everyone said, but I didn’t get. You know… with the child. For the first time I felt… What we did… it was wrong,” I say hanging my head. “What she did darling… Children will do that to you. Make you look at the world in a different light.” “She finally got the message… and so did I… I hurt Ana,” I whisper. “We always hurt the ones we love, darling. You’ll have to tell her you’re sorry. And mean it and give her time.” “She said she was leaving me,” I sob my soul crumbling again. “Did you believe her?” “At first, yes.” “Darling, you always believe the worst of everyone, including yourself. You always have. Ana loves you very much, and it’s obvious you love her.” “She was mad at me.” “I’m sure she was. I’m pretty mad at you right now. I think you can only be truly mad at someone you really love.” “I thought about it, and she’s shown me over and over how much she loves me… to the point of putting her own life in danger.”

“Yes, she has, darling.” “Oh, Mom, why won’t she wake up?” I ask in despair, tears streaming. “I nearly lost her,” I say as I bury my head into her shoulder as she hugs me. “She will wake up when her body is healed enough, darling. She has no swelling which is a huge plus. Her last MRI scan shows significant improvements. She can wake up anytime. It’s up to her body,” she says, giving me relief. “How about Elena? If I hear you getting near her after all of this…” “No, mom! I already told you, it’s been over for years. I only want my wife—if she’ll have me,” I say. I don’t want to explain what went down more than I would to Anastasia. “You will have to work hard to gain her trust back, darling. At times you will get angry, and at other times she will. Every time you are angry with her, you can’t do something that could potentially damage your relationship. How would it make you feel if Ana ran to a former boyfriend?” she asks, and even the idea of Ana being with someone else in the hypothetical is enough to chill my blood. “I can’t bear it, mom,” I whisper. “I can’t think of my wife with someone else. What if she still wants to leave me? Logically, I know that she won’t, but I can’t shake off the fear…” “Christian! After all she’s done for our family for your sake I might add, putting herself and her baby in danger, the baby you and she had a fight about, do you think she’s done that so she can leave you? You have to stop your self-deprecation; see what we see in you. Ana, your dad, me, your brother and sister… It’s time you start seeing yourself through our eyes. Since you were four years old, I tried to respect the distance you put between us and the walls you erected. Because, you couldn’t tolerate a simple touch. Do you know what it means to not to be able to hold your child? Not to be able to comfort him when he cried? Just a simple hug, darling... I couldn’t give that to you and we had to learn to love you from a distance. From arm’s length. It’s taken twenty-four years for you to let me hold you like this…” she says and tightens her embrace. I know it’s all been possible because of my wife who taught me to love and to be touched. I can’t imagine a life without her caress, embrace, kiss, warmth and love. “I know, Mom… I’m glad we talked.”

“Me too, darling. I’m always here. I can’t believe I’m going to be a grandmother,” she says excitedly. Mom leaves with another hug and kisses, and I go back to my wife, continue my bedside vigil. I hold her hand and squeeze her fingers. I miss her terribly. “Oh, baby, please come back to me. I’m sorry. Sorry for everything. Just wake up. I miss you. I love you… When nothing is right between us, I’m bent and broken. Past few days’ anguish has been a brutal teacher. Finally helped me to accept that you really love me… Me… This worthless man… I love you regardless of your love for me. If you torment and torture me, tear me to pieces, I will continue to love you as long as I continue to be. You’re in my every thought, in the darkest corner of my soul. You’ve conquered my from cell to cell; you are part of my existence, part of me. Come back to me…” I kiss my wife as worry and anxiety twisting my heart. Then lean my head onto her bed and arms close to reach her, I go to another restless sleep.

*****❦ ♡ ❧***** I feel the sensation of someone’s touch in my hair. A gentle, weak caress. It’s fragility startles me; I lift my head suddenly and Anastasia’s hand falls off weakly back onto the bed. She woke up! She touched me! “Hi,” she says in a weak raspy voice. “Oh, Ana,” I choke. I clutch her hand, squeezing it tightly, holding it up against my two days old stubbled cheek. That single word is a shot of life for me. “I need to use the bathroom,” she whispers. Bathroom. That’s what she wants to do first. She has a catheter. I gape at her in shock, because all kinds of emotions are coursing through me right now like the Jeopardy wheel, and I’ve no idea which one I’m going to land on. I frown and finally say, “Okay.” Anastasia struggles to sit up though she is incredibly weak. “Ana, stay still. I’ll call a nurse,” I stand abruptly, because I don’t want her to fall back to sleep and check out again. I reach for the nurse’s buzzer, and hit it.

“Please,” she begs. “I need to get up.” The second she opens her eyes up, my single minded wife does only what she wants. I don’t know if it’s okay, or even allowable for her to get up. She just needs to wait for the nurse, but of course, those simple rules do not apply to Anastasia. “Will you do as you’re told for once?” I snap, aggravated. Then the door opens, and Nora bustles in with her jet black dyed hair with her XXL pearl earrings. “Mrs. Grey welcome back. I’ll let Dr. Bartley know you’re awake,” she says as she makes her way to Ana’s bedside. “My name is Nora. Do you know where you are?” “Yes. Hospital. I need to pee,” she repeats her request. “You have a catheter,” Nora tells her. Ana looks at me anxiously, then back to Nora. I know that look. It’s the look that says, ‘I don’t give a shit about what you say. I do what want to do,” but Nurse Nora doesn’t know that yet. She’ll find out. “Please. I want to get up.” “Mrs. Grey,” Nora protests. Good luck with that. “Please,” she presses. “Ana,” I warn, but my wife struggles to sit up come hell or high water. Nora finally reaches to her breaking point and gives in. “Let me remove your catheter. Mr. Grey I am sure Mrs. Grey would like some privacy,” she says looking at me pointedly, trying to fucking dismiss me from my OWN wife’s bedside. Nora, you’re already on my shit list from yesterday. Don’t push your luck! “I’m not going anywhere!” I say and glare at her angrily. “Christian, please,” Ana whispers as she reaches out, she holds my hand squeezes it briefly, weakly. I squeeze it back, and finally give her an exasperated look. She woke up, not more than five minutes ago, and already wore me out emotionally. “Please,” she begs again. “Fine!” I snap and run my hand through my hair exasperated. “You have two minutes, and not a second more,” I warn Nora. Then I lean down and kiss her forehead before leaving the room. As soon as I close the door, I look at my watch and start timing.

Two minutes to the second I burst back into the room, and there’s Nora trying to help Ana out of bed. “Let me take her,” I say, as I make my way to my wife. “Mr. Grey, I can manage,” the nurse scolds me. Do not fuck with me today, Nora! I give her a hostile glare. “Dammit, she’s my wife. I’ll take her,” I hiss through my gritted teeth. I move the IV stand out of my way. “Mr. Grey!” she protests again, but I ignore her, and leaning down, I gently pick Ana off the bed. She wraps her arms around my neck, and finding her even lighter than she was a few days ago wounds me deeply. I take her to the en suite bathroom while Nora pushes the IV stand. “Mrs. Grey, you’re too light,” I mutter disapprovingly and gently set her on her feet. But she sways in her place. Her muscles must be weak. I turn the light on, and she closes her eyes tightly. She’s still standing. “Sit before you fall,” I bark, while still holding her in place. She finally does. “Go,” she tries wave me out with a feeble gesture of her hand. “No. Just pee, Ana.” “I can’t, not with you here,” she protests. “You might fall.” “Mr. Grey!” Nora butts in but we both ignore her. “Please,” she begs again. Fine! I can’t take anymore today. I raise my hands in defeat giving in. “I’ll stand outside, door open,” I say and take a few steps back just outside of the bathroom door with a fuming Nurse Nora.

“Turn around, please,” she asks again. Why the fuck is she feeling this way? I fucked her in all manners possible, and here’s she is meeting a simple biological need, and she can’t do it with me around. As soon as I turn around, I hear her let go. Then I hear the water running in the sink. “I’m done,” she calls as she’s drying her hands on the towel. I turn and close the distance between us in a few short strides, and pick her up off the floor and hold her in my embrace again. I pause for a minute, and bury my nose in her hair. “Oh, I’ve missed you, Mrs. Grey,” I whisper, and Nora behind me muttering to herself silently, I take Ana back to her bed, and lay her down, unwillingly. My arms feel empty without her. “If you’ve quite finished, Mr. Grey, I’d like to check over Mrs. Grey now,” Nora says quite mad. I stand back to give her way. “She’s all yours,” I reply in a more controlled tone. Nora huffs and turns her attention to Ana with a softened expression. “How do you feel?” Nora asks with a lot of sympathy in her voice, and a bit of irritation. It’s funny that she can accommodate us both in the same sentence. “Sore and thirsty. Very thirsty,” Ana whispers. “I’ll fetch you some water once I’ve checked your vitals and Dr. Bartley has examined you.” Nora reaches for the blood pressure cuff, and wraps it around Ana’s upper arm. Ana looks up at me anxiously. When she takes in the tiredness, and haunted expression on my face, she looks worried. Her eyes takes an inventory of my body. My messy hair, unshaven face, well wrinkled shirt. She frowns. “How are you feeling?” I ask ignoring Nora. I sit down on the bed, a little out of arm’s reach. “Confused. Achy. Hungry.” “Hungry?” I blink in surprise. She’s hungry! Hallelujah! She nods.

“What do you want to eat?” “Anything. Soup.” “Mr. Grey, you’ll need the doctor’s approval before Mrs. Grey can eat.” Woman, my wife has been nearly gone out of my life twice within the last few days. Do you think I’ll deny her one request when she came back to me? I take my Blackberry out and dial Taylor. “Ana wants soup…” “She does? I mean she’s awake? How does chicken noodle soup sound?” “Good…” “I’ll run to Fairmont Olympic to get some then. They have the best chicken noodle soup,” he replies. “Thank you.” “My pleasure, sir.” I hang up and face Nora’s admonishing eyes on me. “Taylor?” Ana asks to divert my attention. I nod. “Your blood pressure is normal, Mrs. Grey. I’ll fetch the doctor,” she says as she removes the cuffs and without another word she walks out radiating disapproval. “I think you made Nurse Nora mad,” Ana observes. “I have that effect on women,” I smirk. She laughs in response, and stops suddenly. “Yes, you do.” “Oh, Ana, I love to hear you laugh.” Nora comes back with a pitcher of water. Both Ana and I keep gazing at each other silently as Nora hands a glass of water. “Small sips now,” she orders.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ana mutters. Now, why can’t she be that easy to agree with me? My eyes are glued on her, watching intently. “Mia?” Ana asks after she’s done drinking. “She’s safe. Thanks to you.” “Did they have her?” “Yes,” I reply and she frowns for some reason. “How did they get her?” “Elisabeth Morgan,” I say simply. “No!” I nod in the affirmative. “She picked her up at Mia’s gym.” Ana frowns again not comprehending the whole picture. “Ana, I’ll fill you in on the details later. Mia is fine, all things considered. She was drugged. She’s groggy now and shaken up, but by some miracle she wasn’t harmed,” I say with my jaws clenched. “What you did” – I say falling silent, the pain coming back bathing me again, “was incredibly brave and incredibly stupid. You could have been killed,” I say, my eyes chilling with the horror of the idea. But I am angry too. Angry at her for not asking me for help. Not sharing that with me. “I didn’t know what else to do,” she whispers. “You could have told me!” I shout emphatically, my hands are fisted in my lap. “He said he’d kill her if I told anyone. I couldn’t take that risk.” I close my eyes with the horror of what Jack had intended to do. He didn’t want to release neither one of them. By harming them, he would inflict the greatest harm in me, and wound me beyond repair. “I have died a thousand deaths since Thursday.” “What day is it?”

“It’s almost Saturday,” I say after checking my watch. “You have been unconscious for over twenty-four hours.” “And Jack and Elizabeth?” “In police custody. Although Hyde is here under guard. They had to remove the bullet you left in him,” I say bitterly. “I don’t know where in this hospital he is, fortunately, or I’d probably kill him myself,” I say my face darkening. Anastasia pales. Her eyes pool with tears, and a deep shudder goes through her body. “Hey,” I say, my voice filled with concern as I lean in. I take the glass out of her hand, and then I gently, tenderly fold her into my arms. “You’re safe now,” I whisper against her hair. Her tears start rolling. “Hush,” I stroke her hair as she weeps into my neck. “What I said. I was never going to leave you.” “Hush, baby, I know.” “You do?” she says shocked. “I worked it out. Eventually. Honestly, Ana, what were you thinking?” My tone is strained. “You took me by surprise,” she mutters into my shirt collar. “When we spoke at the bank. Thinking I was leaving you. I thought you knew me better. I’ve said to you over and over I would never leave.” “But after the appalling way I’ve behaved—“ my voice barely audible. I tighten my arms around her again. “I thought for a short time that I’d lost you.” “No, Christian. Never. I didn’t want you to interfere, and put Mia’s life in danger.” I sigh out all my anger, exasperation, and hurt. “How did you work it out?” she asks. I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“I’d just touched down in Seattle when the bank called. Last I’d heard, you were ill and going home.” “So you were in Portland when Sawyer called from the car?” “We were just about to take off. I was worried about you,” I say softly. “You were?” Why is that such a surprise to her? I frown. “Of course I was.” I skirt my thumb over her bottom lip. “I spend my life worrying about you. You know that.” Worrying about you, loving you, caring for you. You are the center of my universe. You’re half of my heart. Half of my Heart – John Meyer

BOOK IV CHAPTER IV WHEN YOU WERE GONE When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in

truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. Khalil Gibran The Cranberries - When you're Gone

“Jack called me at the office,” she murmurs; I stiffen immediately with his name. “He gave me two hours to get the money,” she continues shrugging. “I had to leave and it just seemed the best excuse.”

She gave several people a near coronary. I’m still very angry about it, and she’s lying in bed barely recovering. Remember the misery of the last two days, my mouth presses into a hard grim line. “And you gave Sawyer the slip. He’s mad at you as well.” “As well?” she questions. Does she think I’d be happy about it? “As well as me.” She hesitantly touches my face, running her fingers over my two days old stubble. I have missed and craved her touch for days now. I close my eyes, and lean into her fingers. I need her more than my next breath.

“Don’t be mad at me. Please,” she whispers. Mad, doesn’t even begin to cover what I feel. Raging mad, furious, pushed into violence… “I am so mad at you. What you did was monumentally stupid. Bordering on insane.” “I told you, I didn’t know what else to do.” “You don’t seem to have any regard for your personal safety. And it’s not just you now,” I add angrily. She put our baby’s life in danger as well! Her lip trembles. In worry? Concern? I’m startled with the door opening suddenly because I’m so fixated on my wife. “Good evening, Mrs. Grey. I’m Dr. Bartley,” the Doctor introduces herself. Anastasia takes in the young African-American doctor with white coat over her gray scrubs. “Welcome back. I’m going to examine you now,” she says and starts examining Anastasia thoroughly. She checks her vision by shining her light into her eyes, her

coordination by making her touch the doctor’s fingers, and then touching her nose while closing one eye and then the other, and finally checks all her reflexes. When Nurse Nora comes in to help the doctor, I go to the corner of the room and call my dad, and then Ana’s mother. “Christian?” she answers the phone anxiously. “Hi Carla! Ana’s awake!” She squeals in delight over the phone and I have to pull it away from my ear. “I’m so happy! Is she well enough to talk to me?” “I’m afraid not. She has just woken up and her doctor is examining her. I don’t know if she’s strong enough just yet, but I’ll have her call you at the first chance she gets. I just wanted to make sure that you knew.” “Thank God she’s awake! Thank you for letting me know Christian! Take care of my baby!” she says fervently. “How are you holding up?” “Now that she’s awake, I’m a thousand times better, Carla. Thank you for asking,” I say and can hear her give a sigh of relief at the other end of the phone. “Me, too,” she confesses. “I have better let you go, Carla. I’ll have to call Ray, and Kate to let them know. They too are anxiously waiting to hear about her.” “Thank you for easing my burden Christian. I’ve been worried sick, and crying over my baby. Take care of her please,” she asks. “I most definitely will,” I say and we hang up. I call Kavanagh next. “Hello Christian,” she answers coolly. “Kate, I called to inform you that Ana woke up.” “What? When? Is she alright? What do the doctors say? Can I talk to her? When will she be discharged? Did she tell you what happened? Can I come and visit her? Come on!

Answer me!” she speaks in rapid fire. Yep, she’s is in the right line of business, but she needs to learn to wait for the answers. “When you give me time to put a word edgewise, I’ll answer,” I say, and she snorts. “She woke up only a very short time ago, I am calling you right after calling her mother,” I say and that earns me an “aaah! Thank you!” from Kate. “The doctor is just examining her, so I don’t know what they will say about her health. You won’t be able to talk to her right now, because as I said, she’s being examined. As for visiting, I don’t know what her doctor has in store for her, or where they will take her for tests or exams. You can certainly try, but I can’t guarantee her being in her room.” “Oh! Okay. Well, thank you Christian for letting me know,” she says sniffing. “I’ll let you go back to her then. It really means a lot to me that you let me know,” she says. “Thanks. You can let Elliot know. I still have to call her dad,” I say. “Okay,” she answers. The next in line is Ray. But he doesn’t answer his phone. I leave him a message letting him know that Ana is awake. My eyes are on Anastasia as the doctor is probing her ribs; she winces in pain. I hold my breath and force myself to remain in my corner. I know the doctor is doing it for her well-being, but all my senses are alert, and ready to stop the doctor, if necessary by force. “These are bruised, not cracked or broken. You were very lucky, Mrs. Grey.” Ana scowls. I glower at the doctor. “Foolhardy,” I mouth at Anastasia. “I’ll prescribe some painkillers. You’ll need them for this and for the headache you must have. But all’s looking as it should, Mrs. Grey. I suggest you get some sleep. Depending on how you feel in the morning, we may let you go home. My colleague Dr. Singh will be attending you then.” “Thank you.” Someone knocks on the door, and I look up. Taylor enters with a black cardboard box with Fairmont Olympic emblazoned in cream on the side of the box.

“Food?” Dr. Bartley asks surprised. Give my wife a break! She hasn’t eaten for nearly two days! “Mrs. Grey is hungry. This is chicken soup,” I answer her question. Dr. Bartley smiles in response. “Soup will be fine, just the broth. Nothing heavy,” she says looking at both of us pointedly. I glare at her back. She and Nurse Nora leave the room. I pull the wheeled tray over to Anastasia’s bed, and Taylor places the box on top of it. “Welcome back, Mrs. Grey,” he says in a gruff voice. “Hello, Taylor. Thank you.” “You’re most welcome, ma’am.” Taylor wants to say something else. He hesitates, unable to leave the room. He looks like he has something to say to Ana. “You worried us all Mrs. Grey,” he murmurs, unsure of his own voice. I look at him intently. He raises his eyebrows. “I’m sorry Taylor,” Ana replies, chagrined. I don’t want Ana to be upset, but what Taylor says confirms what I have said to her. “I don’t want to be out of turn, Mrs. Grey. But please ma’am, if there ever is a next time; let us take care of the problem. We are trained to deal with it. You don’t know how we all aged with worry and fear for your well-being,” he says as he glances at me. Ana’s eyes flicker back to me. “Gail, Sawyer, and Ryan all want me to tell you that they’re very happy you’re awake,” he says swallowing with a semblance of a half-smile. My wife won everyone’s hearts but also earned all of their anger as well with her heroics. I unpack the box, taking out a thermos keeping the soup hot, soup bowl, side plate, a linen napkin, soup-spoon a basket of bread rolls, silver salt and pepper shakers on her tray. Ana looks at her food hungrily. “This is great, Taylor,” she says enthusiastically. “Will that be all?” he asks. “Yes, thanks,” I say dismissing him. I have a lot to speak with my wife. He nods. “Taylor, thank you,” Ana adds.

“Anything else I can get you, Mrs. Grey?” Anastasia glances at me eyeing my clothes. “Just some clean clothes for Christian,” she says. Taylor gives her a genuine smile. “Yes, ma’am.” I look down at my shirt, perplexed. “How long have you been wearing that shirt?” she asks. “Since Thursday morning,” I reply, giving her a lopsided smile. Taylor leaves to fetch my clothes per my wife’s request. “Taylor’s real pissed at you, too,” I add grumpily as I unscrew the lid of the thermos to pour some creamy chicken soup into the bowl. “I gathered as much,” she murmurs softly. Ana closes her eyes, and inhales the aroma of the soup with steam curling on its surface. She dips her spoon and tastes it, savoring in her mouth. “Good?” I ask, perching on the bed once again. She nods delightfully, not sparing a word, and continues to eat as if she’s been starving. I’ve never seen my wife this ravenous. She stops to wipe her mouth with her linen napkin. “Tell me what happened—after you realized what was going on,” she demands. Remembering the pain, I feel the constriction in my heart, and the exasperation courses through me anew. I run my hand through my hair again and shake my head. She continues spooning the soup into her mouth like there’s no tomorrow. The sight of it makes me overjoyed. “Oh, Ana, it’s good to see you eat.” “I’m hungry. Tell me,” she probes again.

I frown remembering the pain. “Well, after the bank called and I thought my world had completely fallen apart…” I pause. The pain is so new; her questions reminding me of the agony, driving the knives into the unhealed wounds of my soul. It’s unbearable. She stops eating. Her face falls. “Don’t stop eating, or I’ll stop talking,” I whisper in an adamant tone. But I can barely hold an impassive face without falling apart again. She doesn’t eat. I glare at her. She slowly dips her spoon back into her bowl, and starts eating again. My breathing slows down, my heart rate is barely back to normal, and I resume talking. “Anyway, shortly after you and I had finished our conversation, Taylor informed me that Hyde had been granted bail. How, I don’t know. I thought we’d managed to thwart any attempt at bail. But that gave me a moment to think about what you’d said… and I knew something was seriously wrong.” “It was never about the money,” she snaps at me, an unexpected anger flaring at her face. “How could you even think that? It’s never been about your fucking money!” she nearly shouts, but she must be in pain, because she winces. My jaw drops open with the ferocity of her profane declaration for a second. I narrow my eyes on her. “Mind your language,” I growl at my wife. “Calm down and eat.” She just glares defiantly instead. “Ana,” I warn her. “That hurt me more than anything, Christian,” she whispers. “Almost as much as you seeing that woman.” Her face falls in agony caused by heartbreak. Seeing what I have been feeling reflected on her face, and telling me once again what I have done wrong makes me wince as if she slapped me on the face. All of a sudden the burden I have been carrying for the last few days starting with our fight over the pregnancy weighs me down; I feel emotionally depleted, bone tired, weary. I close my eyes for a short while, shake my head, and resigned to what’s to come. “I know,” I sigh. “And I’m sorry. More than you know.” I have been burning in hell for the past couple of days, tormented with what I’ve done, worried to death she wouldn’t wake up, and I wouldn’t get a chance to get myself forgiven by her. I look at my wife, my eyes are incandescent with penitence. “Please eat. While your soup is still hot,” I plead her in a soft voice. She picks her spoon up and continues to eat. I briefly close my eyes and breathe a sigh of relief.

“Go on,” she whispers, as she takes a bite of her white bread roll. “We didn’t know Mia was missing. I thought maybe he was blackmailing you or something. I called you back, but you didn’t answer,” I scowl. “I left you a message then called Sawyer. Taylor started tracking your cell. I knew you were at the bank, so we headed straight there.” “I don’t know how Sawyer found me. Was he tracking my cell, too?” she asks. “The Saab is fitted with a tracking device. All our cars are. By the time we got near the bank, you were already on the move, and we followed,” I say and she starts smiling ear to ear. “Why are you smiling?” I ask curiously. Is this amusing to her? “On some level I knew you’d be stalking me,” she answers still grinning. “And that is amusing because?” I ask. “Jack had instructed me to get rid of my cell. So I borrowed Whelan’s cell, and that’s the one I threw away. I put mine into one of the duffle bags so you could track your money,” she answers. I sigh. “Our money, Ana,” I correct her softly. We knew that she borrowed Whelan’s cell phone because he told us about it. It was later found in the dumpster, or so Welch tells me. “Eat,” I remind her. She rips a piece of bread roll and wipes the bowl clean, then pops it into her mouth. As she’s chewing her last bite, “finished,” she says. “Good girl,” I answer. There’s another knock on the door. Without needing an answer, Nurse Nora enters into the room, carrying a small paper cup. I clear her tray and start putting the items back into the box. “Pain relief,” Nora says smiling, and shows her the pill inside the cup. “Is this okay to take? You know…with the baby?” she asks tentatively, eyeing me. “Yes, Mrs. Grey. It’s Lortab—it’s fine; it won’t affect the baby.” Anastasia nods, gratefully. She swallows the pill down with a sip of water.

“You ought to rest, Mrs. Grey,” Nurse Nora orders her, but looks at me pointedly. I nod. “You’re going?” Ana exclaims, completely panicked. I snort in a most ungentlemanly manner. “If you think for one moment I’m going to let you out of my sight, Mrs. Grey, you are very much mistaken.” First I thought I lost my wife, and then I feared she died. I’ve been in purgatory in the past couple of days. Why on earth would she think that I’d let her out of my sight? Nora huffs and hovers over Ana readjusting her pillows to lie her down. “Goodnight, Mrs. Grey,” she says, and gives me the evil eye with her deprecatory glance and leaves the room. Her dislike of me surprises me, not that I give a shit about it. “I don’t think Nurse Nora approves of me,” I murmur to Anastasia. I stand by the Ana’s bed. I’m dead tired. I eye my chair that’s been my companion in the past couple of nights. “You need to rest, too, Christian. Go home. You look exhausted,” she tries to persuade me. “I’m not leaving you. I’ll doze in this armchair,” I protest. She scowls at me, and then shifts onto her side in the bed. “Sleep with me, then,” she asks. I frown. I want to. I really do. In fact, there’s really not a thing in the world I want more than to hold my wife in my arms all night. “No. I can’t,” I say halfheartedly. “Why not?” “I don’t want to hurt you.” “You won’t hurt me. Please, Christian.” “You have an IV.” “Christian. Please,” she demands. How can I say no when she’s like that? How can I deny her of sleeping with her when that’s exactly what I want, what we both need?

I peer at her for a moment indecisively. I am fearful of hurting her, but I need to hold her. Didn’t I read somewhere that even sick babies heal faster when they’re held? “Please,” she begs again as she lifts the blanket, inviting me into the bed. “Fuck it,” I say, and take off my shoes and socks and climb next to my wife. Gently, ever so delicately wrap my arms around Anastasia and when she lays her head on my chest, I am finally in heaven, my burden lifted. I kiss her hair. “I don’t think Nurse Nora will be very happy with this arrangement,” I whisper mischievously, and somehow I’m delighted with the idea of making Nora mad. Anastasia giggles, but stops quickly. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts,” she complains, halfheartedly. “Oh, but I love that sound,” I say forlorn, my voice low. Pain, agony laced with enormous guilt goes through me again. “I’m sorry, baby, so, so sorry,” I utter my apologies, kissing her hair again and again, inhaling her scent. I’m sorry for everything. Sorry for fighting with you; the reasons of which now seem insignificant. We are going to be parents. I’m unprepared, scared shitless, incompetent, and that every time I think about it, worry spreads over me like the bubonic plague because I am completely scared of the kind of father I would be. The hand Anastasia puts over my heart relaxes me and centers me here. I gently put my hand over hers. I want to hold her tight, but I know I can’t do that tonight knowing she’s barely healing. But the strength I want to exert is not only because I reaffirm touching her, or fulfill the hunger and yearning I have for her. It’s to soothe the overwhelming love I have for her. I let my love embrace her tighter, rather than my arms tonight. I have yearned, coveted, begged for this embrace. It’s not just holding her person but her embracing her soul; her spark, embracing that disobedient angel that is my wife in her fragile body. Pregnant silence grows between us. Each of us wanting to say something but holding back. Anastasia is the first to break that silence. “Why did you go see that woman?” she asks finally. A stab in my heart. My biggest regret. “Oh, Ana,” I groan in pain and penitence. “You want to discuss that now? Can’t we drop this? I regret it, okay?” I plead with her. “I need to know,” she presses on. Anastasia is nothing if not persistent.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” I mutter, completely irritated. I don’t want Elena getting between us. It’s a done deal, a finished story. I want to change the topic. “Oh, and Detective Clark wants to talk to you. Just routine. Now go to sleep,” I coax her. She is silent for a moment. I kiss her hair again, feeling her, I close my eyes. Anastasia gives out a heavy sigh. She’s thinking, and she’s not done interrogating me. I know she will continue with it, and I want to tell her, but not now, not when I am just holding her for the first time in what feels like eternity. “Do we know why Jack was doing all this?” she asks curiously. “Hmm,” I murmur. I had not expected that line of questioning. I’m tired, and ready to sleep with my wife. I don’t want the bastard or Elena tainting this moment. “Later,” I say yawning. My breathing slows, my chest slowly rises up and down in gentle breathing, her head on my chest, lulling, also tired. There is not much I want right now, because I have everything I need; love of my life in my embrace in the night fall. Inhaling the scent of her hair, feeling the taste of her skin, and her delicate breath caressing my chest. Her smile, laughter and giggle and the memory of her kisses are intoxicating me, pulling me into sleep with promises of more. I finally give in to the beckoning darkness and drift into sleep.

*****❦ ♡ ❧***** “God damn it to hell Ana! Why can’t you tell me what is wrong?” I ask. Her mood has been all over the map. “I’m pregnant!” she spits it out. I’m not shocked with the news. I still ask her, “What?” in horror. “Don’t you want the baby?” “I don’t know what I want! I can’t be a good father! You’re having a baby with the wrong father material. I’ll end up screwing this baby’s life up! I’m not ready to be a father…” I shout my frustration. “You would make a wonderful father!” she says fervently. “I won’t! How the hell would you know?” I feel the anger rise in me. Uncontrollable, overwhelming, incapacitating anger. Fury even!

“It’s unexpected, but I want this baby. He’s ours,” she whispers. “I can’t! I’m not ready! I can’t share you with anyone! I’m the one who needs you, and you go and get pregnant! I haven’t even had you to myself for a year! One fucking year! Why would you do that to us? Why would you forget to get your birth control shot? Was it on purpose? A scheme?” “No! If you don’t want our baby, you don’t want me! We come as a package. No baby, no Ana!” she shouts. “Is that what you want?” “No! That’s what you make me do! I want to have my baby!” “Christian…” calls a soft sultry voice. Her blonde head is clearly visible in the dark. Her blue eyes are shaded with her long fake eyelashes. “You don’t need her or the baby! You deserve me! What I have to offer. What my body can do for you… Remember?” she croons. “I want Ana to want me!” “But she doesn’t want you… She only wants the baby and your money, and maybe another man who can be a daddy to her child. A normal man like Jose or Ethan… Don’t worry,” she shakes her head. “You don’t need a baby, Christian. You are a Dom! You are the Master of your craft! You’re the master of all women who wish to submit you. Except that cunt…” “She’s the one I want!” I bellow. “But, she can’t possibly fulfill all of your desires. Look at her! And she is pregnant…” she spits in disgust. “With my child!” I retort. Why do I suddenly feel the need to protect Junior? “Remember how much you loved tying me up, flogging me until my buttocks glowed with a warm shade of pink just like the way you like it and then fucking me senseless? You can do that again to me—“ I cut her off.

“I don’t think of you that way Elena!” “What? You think she desires you? She wants the baby!” says Elena pointing Anastasia’s growing belly. “How can she possibly fulfill all your desires like that?

Whereas I have proven to you that I can in any way fulfill your heart desires, Christian...” she drones like the she-devil. “I can make you beyond happy by submitting to you at… all… times... You can gain the control back in your life. 24/7 round the clock, Christian! No one will take a single breath without your permission. Come,” she says with a crook of her finger. “I love my wife!” “You love what I’m offering more… come,” she beckons me again. Ana’s body gets heavy with the child.

“Look at that!” Elena says with revulsion in her voice. “She is disgusting! Large…unable to accommodate you, and your needs. I’m offering you this to do as you wish,” she says running her hands over her barely clad body her whip in hand. She holds it and traces a line with the whip over my arm making me flinch immediately. “Don’t! Don’t touch me! Only Ana can!” “Come on Christian!” she bares her teeth like a predator. “Don’t you remember this?” she shows me a vision of a submissive tied with changing faces, and suspended, legs in stirrups in dim light in my playroom. “Look how sexy this is! Observe the breasts with those clamps providing the maximum pain and pleasure to fulfill the need in your dark side…”

I turn away. “I no longer want that!” “How about this? Can she do any of this?” The changing images of subs gagged, tied in various enticing positions, submissive, bent to receive anything I can give, whipping, fucking, spanking, belting… I turn away.

“Anastasia is all I want. She’s what I need!” “What does she have to offer?” she barks, and grabs my hand to hand me the whip, and her hand touches my chest, burning me…

“Don’t touch me! Ever again! Only Ana can!” “You want me! You need me! I made you what you are! You are me…” “You’re wrong Elena. I no longer want you. I only want my wife. I love her more than life itself.” “She has nothing to offer except a growing belly,” she laughs, and pushes Anastasia to the cold concrete floor with the bottom of her high heeled black leather boots. Ana’s body falls onto the ground with a thud. When Ana screams in pain, my heart shatters. Elena’s face changes to Hyde. “Do you know who I am little bird? I know who you are!” He says and lifts his foot up to kick my wife already writhing in pain. I jump on Hyde, attacking him to protect Anastasia. I lift my fist up and blow a punch on his side, and another one on his chin. He tries to push me away. We roll on the ground. He hits me with a left hook. I feel nothing. He lifts his leg in an effort to kick me off him. I grin with malice in my gaze. He lands a punch on my side, and I retort by punching him in the face again. His lip splits and blood oozes out slowly dripping. His hands grasps my biceps, a wild grin comes to his lips. The face changes back to Elena. “That’s right baby… Do it again! I know you love it! Hit me! Hurt me! Fuck me! Do what you want with me!”

I scramble away from her like I’ve been hit with a bolt of lightning. “Get it through your head! I don’t ever want you! No more! Ana is all I want!” I scramble to my wife’s side holding her in my arms. “Well…” croons Elena. “I suppose I can always train your son,” she says as she rubs the hair of a copper haired young boy. “Noooo!” I scream in agony. My voice is choked and silenced in my throat. My eyes opens up immediately; sweat pouring out of me, my breathing is so rapid, my lungs are ready to burst. When I take in my surroundings, my heartbeats start slowing down. I look down, swallowing. “Thank God!” I whisper. Ana’s here with me, sleeping curled in my chest. We’re at the hospital. I slowly get up trying not to wake Ana up, and get off the bed. Nurse Nora comes into the room, and she looks at me with her eyes narrowed. If she’s seen me sleep with Ana in her bed, she says nothing. “Mrs. Grey should be sleeping another couple of hours. I gave her pain meds earlier. It puts her to sleep because she’s weak,” she says. “Thank you for letting me know,” I say and slowly get out of the room. Taylor is waiting outside. “I need you to run me to Escala quickly Taylor. So I can clean up,” I say. “I brought you clothes and toiletries yesterday.”

“You did?” “Yes, sir. You were asleep, so I left them on the chair in the corner,” he says. I get back into Anastasia’s room, and taking the bag, I go to the en suite bathroom. I lock the door and quickly shave, and take a shower. Finally feeling completely clean washing off the last three days not only dirt and grime, but also the misery, I come out of the bathroom refreshed. I fold the dirty clothes and put them back in the gym bag Taylor brought to take home. I’m now dressed entirely in black; I could be mistaken as Jonny Cash’s backup singer if he was still alive. I go back out again to meet Taylor. “Let’s go grab some breakfast for Mrs. Grey,” I say, and he gives me a rare genuine smile. “Yes, sir. I know just the place nearby.” Sawyer is just outside of the double doors entering into Anastasia’s hospital ward. “Sawyer, move down to Mrs. Grey’s door, and have Ryan wait at the entrance here,” he orders as we exit. “No entry is granted to anyone except the Doctors on the list, and her assigned nurses and family,” he reminds him of the visitation rules. “You have today’s staff list?” he asks him. Sawyer takes a list out of his pocket. “Yes, T. I’ve memorized the names and the faces,” he replies. “We’ll be back in about thirty minutes,” I say. “Hospital’s cafeteria isn’t too bad, but this place is very close, right by the hospital in fact. The food is great, and they’ve got fast service,” Taylor says. "Let's take a detour, first. I want to see my sister for a few minutes. Do you know what room Mia's in?” “Yes, sir. She's one floor below,” Taylor replies. “I want to stop by her room before we go pick Ana's breakfast up.” There's another one of Welch's men at the entry to the ward, and by Mia's door.

“Where are her own security personnel?” I ask frowning. “They're all in the vicinity, sir. The blend in the ward sir, just in case someone tries to get into the ward avoiding our security with the pretense of hospital personnel. “Good,” I reply. When I open the door Mia is dressed in her jeans, blouse, an high heeled pumps, talking to a male doctor with my mom. They all turn to look at me. “Christian!” she shouts excitedly. The young doctor's eyebrows shoot up. “If you have no other questions Miss Grey and Doctor Grey, I will leave you alone with your boyfriend,” he says. Smooth. “That's my brother, silly!” she replies her doctor playfully, and I can see the happy glint in the doctor's eyes. I scrutinize the doctor up and down. I thought my sister was going out with Ethan Kavanagh. “Hello, darling,” my mother greets me. The doctor nods. “I see. When you have rested for a few days, make an appointment with my office, and we'll check your progress, and test if the drugs you were administered had any effects on your body, Miss Grey. Good day, Miss Grey, Doctor Grey, Mr. Grey,” he says as he leaves the room with another backward glance towards my sister. Mia jumps into my arms, hugging me hard. “Hi Taylor!” she greets him, and to his surprise, she gives him a hug as well. “Thank you for coming to our rescue and please thank Ana for coming after me to save me from those maniacs.” “I will. Are you discharged?” “Yes, I am. We're going home--” she says and my mother adds: “Where I will make sure that she will not leave my sight again till she is 30!”

“Oh mom! I'm okay now.” “My is right. If you had not relented on your security, we would have avoided all this, because those fuckers wouldn't get a chance to kidnap you! As it is, both you and Ana got hospitalized as a result, and both of you could have died!” “I'm sorry Christian! I'm so sorry!” she says worried as I crush her to my chest. “I've died a thousand deaths since the kidnapping. Seeing Ana cold on the concrete, and you lulling and lifeless in Sawyer's arms... I lost myself. My world collapsed, imploded,” I say kissing the top of her head. “I feel awful, angry, disgusted, and guilty. I'm so sorry Christian! I'm sorry for getting rid of the security, I'm sorry for Ana being kidnapped, the ransom, what you and mom and dad and Elliot have been through. How's Ana? Mom said that she woke up.” “Yes, she did,” I say with relief. “She too might be going home soon. They'll probably do some tests on her and examine her before they give the green light.” “How are you feeling son?” my mom asks as she gives me a hug. “A thousand times better now that Ana is awake. I was just going to go and pick her breakfast. She's still sleeping,” I say. “She still has a lot of healing to do. Has a lot of bruises, and she's still extremely weak. But I thank God every minute to sparing Ana's and Mia's lives, and that they're both getting better. “ “Oh, Christian!” Mia gushes, and hugs me again. “I'm so glad to see you.” “How did they convince you to go with them or did they force you in the vehicle?” Mia sighs. “I was so stupid. I have heard the name Elizabeth Morgan before, I think. When I came out of the gym, she came up to me running and said Ana was in the hospital and she was unable to reach you. She said as a family member she came and found me there, and was taking me to the hospital to be with her. I didn't think! She didn't give me time, because she did look anxious and worried. But now that I think about it, the anxiety was because she was going to kidnap me; and not because Ana was in the hospital. I told her my mom is a doctor and that I would call her. She told me to call in SUV. So without thinking, I entered into her vehicle. When I turned back to toss my gym bag, I saw Hyde. I was shocked to see another person in the car. He said, 'hello' grinning, and

put a towel on my face. I'm told that it was chloroform. I don't remember the rest until I woke up at the hospital,” she says shaking her head. I realize that I have gone rigid in my places, my knuckles gone white because my hands are fisted so hard. Mia realizes that. She takes my hands into hers. I look down. “We're okay now Christian. Thanks to you and Taylor and Sawyer and Welch and all of your men! I'll never complain about security again.” “Thank Anastasia! Without her, none of this would be possible. We wouldn't know you were kidnapped, and I wouldn't think of chasing Ana and end up finding you both,” I say still rigid. “I don't know how to thank her. It was brave, and selfless, and most courageous thing anyone has ever done for me! She's my savior, guardian angel,” she whispers. She must feel tired, because she sits downs on her bed, yawning. “She's still under the influence of the trace amount of tranquilizers still in her system. I had better take her home, darling,” my mom says. “Yes, of course mom. I just wanted to make sure my sister's okay. I can't stay too long either. I don't want to leave Ana alone. I want to be back before she wakes up. The nurse said she might sleep two more hours, but I want to be back way before than that,” I explain. “I love you Christian! I'm so grateful to you, your men and most of all Ana!” Mia says picking up her purse, and giving me a goodbye hug. “I love you darling.” “I love you, mom.” “I will call you later to find out about Ana,” my mom says, then kisses my cheeks. “Oh, what the hell!” I say and hug her to her surprise. Then we leave. When we get to the bakery; I see the modern setting, and people in line with for their breakfast orders. I order a breakfast for me and Ana, and Taylor gets coffee. Her food is packed to go, and taking a seat, I eat my egg white omelet and toast and drink my coffee. By the time we get back to Ana’s hospital room, it’s been forty four minutes since

we left. I go into Anastasia’s room with her food safely wrapped into a paper bag. But Ana’s bed is empty. I panic immediately. Did they take her for more exams? Sawyer was at the door but he didn’t say anything.

“Ana!” I shout for her. “I’m in the bathroom,” she replies sounding like she has something in her mouth. Maybe she’s brushing her teeth. I hear the water run. I put her oatmeal with dried fruits, pancakes with maple syrup, bacon, orange juice, and the Twinings English breakfast tea on the tray with wheels. When the sound of running water ceases, Ana opens the door and comes out. “Good morning, Mrs. Grey,” I say happier than I felt in days. “I have your breakfast,” I smile with the pride of someone who is taking care of his wife. She grins ear to ear when she sees me, and climbs into her bed. I pull the tray with wheels, and reveal her breakfast. She takes her orange juice and gulps it down quickly then digs into her oatmeal. I sit down at the edge of her bed watching her in amazement. I have never seen her eat with so much gusto before. Ever! The way she appreciates her food and takes it in is so fucking sexy. I smirk, shaking my head. All this time I tried to get her eat a little more, and she always ate like a bird. And now seeing her devour everything on her plate gives me a particular joy. And getting her eat only took knocking her up. So, that was the key. I smirk again. “What?” she asks with her mouth full of pancakes. “I like to watch you eat. How are you feeling?” I ask. “Better,” she replies again between a spoonful of oatmeal, a bite of bacon and a forkful of pancake washed down with a gulp of Twinings tea. I am completely amazed. “I’ve never seen you eat like this,” I say to her curious gaze. She looks up at me and her face falls. “It’s because I’m pregnant, Christian.” I snort in response, and an ironic smile creeps up on my lips. “If I knew getting you knocked up was going to make you eat, I might have done it earlier,” I say trying to soften the mood. “Christian Grey!” she gasps, shocked at my remark. She sets the oatmeal bowl down on her tray.

“Don’t stop eating,” I warn her. “Christian, we need to talk about this,” she says softly. I still, fear taking over again. “What’s there to say? We’re going to be parents,” I mutter shrugging, trying to look casual, but failing miserably. Anxiety and panic are crawling over me, suffocating. My eyes widen with fear. Anastasia pushes her tray aside, and crawls down the bed to me, and takes my hand in hers, immediately helping me find my center, but the ever present fear is still strangling me. “You’re scared. I get it,” she whispers. Does she? She’s never been in my shoes, or lived through the horrors I have lived. She doesn’t know my deficiencies. I gaze at her using all my effort to look impassive. “I am, too. That’s normal,” she whispers. “What kind of a father could I possibly be?” I ask in a hoarse, barely audible voice, finally voicing my fear. “Oh, Christian,” she sniffles, trying to stifle a sob. “One that tries his best. That’s all any of us can do.” “Ana—I don’t know if I can…” “Of course you can. You’re loving, you’re fun, you’re strong, you’ll set boundaries. Our child will want for nothing,” she tries to reassure me. And also fucked up to the point of having nightmares about my train wreck of a past. My days or nights aren’t free of the worry and fear that I’d be a sucky father, and fear that my child would be abused because of my fucked up parenting skills. She doesn’t know the kind of nightmares torturing me at night. Fear, the fresh sting of my earlier nightmare freezes me in my place; I stare at her. Doubt is written all over my face. This is one thing I am afraid I won’t be good at; something I will screw up, and it will end up being detrimental to more than one person. “Yes, it would have been ideal to have waited. To have longer, just the two of us. But we’ll be three of us, and we’ll all grow up together. We’ll be a family. Our own family. And your child will love you unconditionally, like I do,” she says her eyes brimming

with tears. I don’t doubt her love for me. Not anymore. Can a child, our child love me like she does? I am unlovable yet, Ana loves me, and I nearly lost her. The emotions flood over me unbidden, fresh. But my wife is my rock. Here she is in her weak state, still bruised and battered, but braver than I am, giving me hope, elating me. What have I done to deserve her? “Oh, Ana,” I whisper hoarsely. Pain and anguish of her near death is still so real, so close, so overwhelming. “I thought I’d lost you. Then I thought I’d lost you again. Seeing you lying on the ground, pale and cold and unconscious – it was my worst fears realized. And now here you are – brave and strong… giving me hope. Loving me after all that I’ve done.” “Yes, I do love you, Christian, desperately. I always will,” she says fervently. After all I did…walking out on her, seeing Elena, she can still love me. I take her head into my hands gently, and wipe her tears away with my thumbs. I gaze into her eyes unable to hide my enormous fear of the prospect of fatherhood and my wonder of her. “I love you, too,” I breathe and I do what I wanted to do for days; I kiss my wife softly and tenderly, adoring her. If she has faith in me, who am I to disappoint her? “I’ll try to be a good father,” I whisper against her lips. Because I love my wife. I don’t want to screw this up and drive my wife into someone else’s arms, care and life, and my child along with her. They’re both mine! Truly, Madly, Deeply – Savage Garden “You’ll try, and you’ll succeed. And let’s face it; you don’t have much choice in the matter, because Blip and I are not going anywhere.” “Blip?” “Blip.” Why Blip? I raise my eyebrows questioning. “I had the name Junior in my head.” “Junior it is, then.” “But I like Blip,” I smile shyly, and kiss my wife once again. I love holding her in my arms, and keeping her in my embrace, but I need her to eat since she has missed quite a few meals in the past couple of days.

“Much as I’d like to kiss you all day, your breakfast is getting cold,” I murmur against her lips, unwilling to break away from her still. Just touching her lights up all my synapses, putting me on full alert of her body. Kissing her and not having sex is like turning my libido on full blast building up pressure and torturing myself with no relief in sight. I gaze down at her with completely darkened, sensual eyes. I want my wife. But, she’ll be off limits for a while if I can help it, so better not torture either one of us with pent up frustration. “Eat,” I order softly. She swallows. She wants what I want, and that’s something we can’t have. She crawls back into her bed carefully placing her IV lines out of her way in order to avoid snagging. I pull the tray back in front of her. She starts eating her food again. “You know,” she mutters after she eats a bite of her pancake, “Blip might be a girl.” A girl? Oh, shit! I know what men want from girls. I run my hand through my hair in exasperation completely alarmed. I am anti-gun, but this might be one reason I might become a pro: to protect my daughter from the predators. I am once again alarmed. A boy, a son I can talk to. But a girl? Oh, shit! Shit! Shit! But then again, I have Ana. She managed to get me see the light. She can do anything! I run my hand through my hair again. “Two women, eh?” When she sees the alarm flash through my face, she asks. “Do you have a preference?” “Preference?” I ask, alarmed. “Boy or girl.” I frown. I don’t know. “Healthy will do,” I say softly, still bewildered with the topic. “Eat,” I snap so willing to change into a different venue.

“I’m eating, I’m eating… Jeez, keep your hair on, Grey,” she says watching me with scrutiny. I sit down in the armchair that has been my companion while Anastasia was unconscious, and pick up the Seattle Times. The reporters have been camping all over the hospital to get the full story. “You made the papers again, Mrs. Grey,” I say in a bitter tone remembering the incident with paparazzi. “Again?” she asks. “The hacks are just rehashing yesterday’s story, but it seems factually accurate. You want to read it?” I ask. She shakes her head. “Read it to me. I’m eating.” I shake my head smirking. Modern Day Bonnie and Clyde – Travis Tritt Seattle Times Anastasia Grey, the wife of mogul Christian Grey and his sister Mia Grey were kidnapped by Jack Hyde and Elizabeth Morgan on September 15th, 2011. Both Hyde and Morgan were former employees of the Seattle Independent Publishing where Mrs. Grey currently works as an editor. Our sources indicate that both Hyde and Morgan had been Mrs. Grey’s former bosses. In order to extract $5,000,000 from the Greys, Hyde and Morgan developed an ingenious plan and kidnapped Miss Mia Grey outside of her gym and called Anastasia Grey telling her to get the five million dollars money within two hours, and deliver it to an undisclosed location without telling anyone if she valued the life of Mia Grey. Mrs. Grey withdrew the money and went to save her sister in-law following her kidnappers' orders to the letter. However, Hyde who had a personal grudge against Mrs. Grey beat her up so badly that she ended up in the hospital unconscious, but not before she managed to shoot Hyde on the leg. Ironically, they are now both being treated in the same hospital. Mr. Hyde was released on bail the morning he kidnapped Mia and Anastasia Grey. He was in jail for attempted kidnapping, breaking and entering into Mr. and Mrs. Christian’s Grey’s posh Seattle apartment, Escala.

Our sources indicate that the modern day Bonnie and Clyde have been co-workers and sexual partners. Like Bonnie, the sassy Miss Morgan has the sex-appeal, and Hyde has the troubled past. Both excelled in school and ended up working in the same publishing company. They stayed out of trouble until Mrs. Grey started working at the SIP. The young, beautiful and naïve Mrs. Grey has been described as an easy target to reach the unreachable Christian Grey and his millions; the chink in his armor. But not as naïve as they thought she is since Mrs. Grey still she managed to shoot Jack Hyde. The two women have finally been rescued by none other than Christian Grey and his personal security detail. The whole incident makes the rest of us wonder with concern whether the Justice System releases dangerous criminals back into the society since the same Justice System released a criminal like Hyde who was in jail for attempted kidnapping, breaking and entering into Christian Grey's home. Clearly the same offender attempted to commit the very same crime upon the same victim within two hours of his release on bail. We have learned that Mr. Grey’s attorneys have made every effort to block any attempt to bail and unfortunately they were unsuccessful in the end. The question left unanswered is then is this: Who is running our Justice System?

When I finish reading the story, “Please read something else. I like listening to you,” Anastasia says. I read her a report about a booming bagel business and the fact that Boeing has had to cancel the launch of Boeing Sonic Cruiser; a concept airliner with a delta wing-canard configuration. This is right up in Pella’s alley. This aircraft was distinguished from conventional jet airliners by its delta wing and high-subsonic cruising speed of up to Mach 0.98, which is about 746 mph. I frown as I read it. Maybe I should give Pella a call. He warned me time and again that there were more than one person, and he accurately predicted that one of them was a woman. Are there others after me and my family? Who financed Hyde's release? Who gave him the cash? I don’t want to think about those when I’m with Anastasia, but my mind keeps drifting back. She picks up on everything, and considering that she’s not well and pregnant, I don’t want to worry her in any way at all. When I finish reading, Ana is contemplating on something. Something is brewing in her mind. But then there’s a knock on the door as she opens her mouth to say something.

One of the last people I want to see today enters into the room apologetically: Detective Clark. “Mr. Grey, Mrs. Grey,” he greets us. “Am I interrupting?” “Yes,” I snap at him. But he goes on ignoring my protest. “Glad to see you’re awake, Mrs. Grey. I need to ask you a few questions about Thursday afternoon. Just routine. Is now a convenient time?” he asks. “Sure,” replies Ana halfheartedly. “My wife should be resting,” I say acerbically. “I’ll be brief, Mr. Grey. And it means I’ll be out of your hair sooner rather than later.” Well, the sooner they all get out of our lives, the better. I stand and offer my chair to him, and sit next to my wife on the bed protectively. I hold her hand letting her know that she can rely on me, and squeeze it reassuringly.

“Mrs. Grey, we have a general idea of what happened on Thursday, and we have Miss Morgan’s statement. But we need to get your account of the events. When did Hyde first contact you?” “It was after lunch on Thursday. I had just come back to my desk, and my cell phone rang. My caller ID displayed Mia’s name, and I thought it was her calling and answered.” “Then what happened?”

“To my utter shock, the caller was Jack Hyde. He immediately told me not to hang up and that he’s been having a chat with my little sister-in-law,” she says swallowing. “He said…” she stops takes a shuddering breath, and looks at me. “He said…” she stops. “What did he say Mrs. Grey? Everything you say is important in getting him prosecuted.” She nods. “He said, ‘listen to me, you prick-teasing, gold-digging whore. You and Grey fucked up my life. You owe me.’ Then he said he has the little bitch with him now that that cock-sucker I married and his whole fucking family are going to pay!” her voice rising. She leans so much into me, if she could go any further we would be fused together! My eyes widen in anger, and I feel that the beating I gave the fucker isn’t even enough in what he put her through. “Go on Mrs. Grey…” Clark coaxes her. Ana nods, takes a deep breath as another violent shudder goes through her. “I asked him what he wants. He said he wants ‘his fucking money.’ If things had been different, it could have been him. Then he said he wants me to get five million dollars of my husband's money. I told him that I didn’t have access to that kind of money. But he didn’t give me any choice with his demands. He gave me two hours to find five million Dollars! Just two hours!” she says tears pooling into her eyes. "He kept emphasizing that I couldn't let anyone know. Not Christian, not our security, not the police! He said... he said..." I hold her tighter in my arms. "Shhh.. I got you. Detective this is upsetting my wife!" "No, Christian, I want to get over with it, so I don't have to recall it again... Please," she looks at me with tears. My lips go to a tight line, my eyes wide, but I nod.

"He repeated several times to me that he would know if I let anyone know about this and once he finds out I said anything about him, he would kill Mia. Then he told me to keep my phone with me, and added, 'tell no one or I'll fuck her up before I kill her. You have two hours!' Just as I tried to ask for more time, he hung up on me leaving me no other choice. No time... As I left work, I told my assistant to tell Elisabeth that I was not feeling well and that I was leaving! I informed Elizabeth of my leaving, and she informed Jack... I didn't know!" she shudders with a sob. "Then you went directly to the bank from work?" Detective probes with a straight face, seemingly unaffected, but I can see his pupils dilate. He reins in his emotions well. "No. I had to go home and find something, a checkbook with my name on it, and I had to lose Sawyer because I couldn't endanger Mia's life," she says and I stiffen next to her. "It wasn't easy. But, I called Sawyer and asked him to help me upstairs, and when he when up, I left the apartment quickly. When I left the building, Sawyer was running after me and chasing my car. I immediately went to the bank and asked for the Bank Manager and told him that I wanted to withdraw five million Dollars." "What did the bank manager say to that?" "Well, I forgot that my driver's license still had my maiden name, and the bank manager wanted to call Christian but I found my Amex with my married name on it. The manager said it was unconventional to withdraw that amount of money. I didn't want Christian to know, because I didn't want his life or Mia's to be in danger... I thought I was convincing with the bank manager, but it was still taking a while, and time was something I didn't have; if I was running out of time and consequently Mia was running out of time. I didn't want her to get raped, hurt, and then killed! I didn't want her to be tortured, you see... I was ready to do anything to save her..." Ana says slowly, tears streaming as she recalls. "But the manager called Christian anyway," she says her face falling. "I had to tell him I was leaving him, so he wouldn't follow me! I had to hurt him, break my husband's heart just so his life wouldn't be in danger!" she utters holding onto me tightly. "I'm sorry ma'am to have you recall all this. I'll get through my questions as quickly as I can. How did you leave the bank?" "Sawyer was waiting in the bank's waiting room when I came out. So, I asked the bank manager to take me back to his office. I called Mia's cell phone and Jack Hyde answered. He already knew that my security followed me. He told me to go to the back

of the bank. I told the bank manager to take me out from the employee entrance in the back. Then I asked for his cell phone as I went out because I put my Blackberry into the money bag so Christian could track his money." "Our money!" I grunt. She rolls her eyes. "And when we came out, I was shocked to find Elizabeth Morgan waiting. She had the black Dodge. After the money was loaded into the Dodge, the bank staff went back in. And Elizabeth asked for my phone and I gave her the phone I got from the bank manager. She tossed it into the dumpster saying it was to throw the dogs off the scent." I am disgusted with the callousness and disregard of Ana's and my sister's lives in Elizabeth Morgan. I will fucking allocate unlimited amount of funds to exact my revenge on all involved parties, and make sure that she goes to prison indefinitely. "If you don't mind me asking ma'am, how did you think you would get away from Hyde and Miss Morgan?" Clark asks curiously, and frankly I'd like to know the brilliant, I mean idiotic logic behind that as well. "I didn't have time to think, Detective. I thought I could just toss the money at Jack, and grab Mia and run..." she says naively, blinking up at him. That was her best plan? I vibrate in anger and frustration, holding the bridge of my nose in order to hold back my headache at bay; the detective's must be feeling the same because lips go into a thin nervous line. "Then it's a good thing your husband didn't listen to you and followed you anyway. Did Miss Morgan tell you why she was cooperating with Hyde?" "I asked her why she was doing this, because she didn't like Jack. She didn't answer my question and just told me to keep my mouth shut. When I asked her if he had some sort of hold on her, and she slammed the breaks angrily before I had a chance to put my seat belt on. At that moment I knew she was prepared to do whatever Jack asked her to do because he was holding something over her head, and I realized I may not be able to get away as quickly..." she says staring ahead as if she's reliving the horror of the events of Thursday, and I along with her. "When Elisabeth arrived at Jack's hideout, Jack came out and he looked quite different. His hair was cut short, earrings removed and he was wearing a suit. He looked like he was ready to take off to someplace. I asked him where Mia was. He says 'first things first, bitch,' and had Elizabeth check the money, and confirmed with her that she threw away my cell phone. Then out of nowhere he backhanded me across the face. It was so

unprovoked, and ferocious, it knocked me to the ground. I just remember my head thudding on the concrete, and the excruciating pain in my head. It filled my eyes with tear, and my vision got blurry immediately, and my skull was pulsing with throbbing pain. I think I screamed. I wanted to protect our baby, but I couldn't..." she sobs with her hands covering her face. I am resonating with anger and tension once more. I run my fingers up and down on her back to soothe her. But I am so furious and full of rage, I have half the mind to find Hyde and kill the fucker and end his worthless life! But, that would be too good for him. "Then I remember Jack following through with a vicious kick to my ribs. It was so hard, it knocked my breath out of my lungs. He screamed at me saying 'that's for SIP, you fucking bitch!' All I could do was to pull my legs up into infant position. Just as he was getting ready to deliver me another kick, Elisabeth told him not to do it there in broad daylight. And that gave me just a second to pull the gun out and shoot. I just remember hearing screeching cars, breaks, shouting, and footsteps. Then I heard Christian... I heard my husband's voice. Then it was lights out for me... until I woke up yesterday," she finishes her statement with tears still rolling down her cheeks, holding onto me as if her life depends on it. "I wish you'd aimed higher," I mutter. "Might have done womankind a service if Mrs. Grey had," Clark finally agrees with me about something. "Thank you, Mrs. Grey. That's all for now." "You won't let him out again, will you?" Ana asks scared. "I don't think he'll make bail this time, ma'am." "Do we know who posted his bail?" I ask. "No, sir. It was confidential." Confidential... When Welch checks through my list, I will find the fucking bastard, and I will make him or her pay for it. Hit him where it hurts. As Clark is leaving Dr. Singh and two interns enter into the room to examine Ana. I wait and keep a watchful eye on my wife. Dr. Singh looks happy and she declares that Anastasia is fit to go home. I have never felt the kind of relief I feel now.

"Mrs. Grey, you'll have to watch for worsening headaches and blurry vision. If that occurs you must return to the hospital immediately," she warns. Anastasia nod in response, and looks delighted with the prospect of going home. As Dr. Singh is leaving I stop her. "Dr. Singh, may I have a word with you?" "Of course Mr. Grey," she says and I lead her out to the corridor leaving the door ajar behind me. "How can I help you Mr. Grey?" "Is it safe for my wife to have sex?" She smiles in response. "Yes Mr. Grey, it is." "How long do you recommend her to wait before we can resume our normal sexual activities?" "There is no danger in Mrs. Grey resuming her sexual life. She will need to take it easy for a little while; perhaps wait a week or so or at least nothing rough until her ribs heal. But as long as she's careful and you're gentle with her, she can still have sex." "Okay. I just want to be perfectly sure: you're giving us a green light? She can have sex?" "Yes, Mr. Grey, that's fine," she smiles broadly. "Thank you," I say and shake her hand. When I get back into Anastasia's room again, I'm much happier knowing I can make love to her again. "What was that all that about?" "Sex," I say with a wicked grin. She blushes. "And?" she asks. "You're good to go," I smirk.

"I have a headache," she smirks back at me. "I know. You'll be off limits for a while. I was just checking." She frowns, disappointed. She has missed sex, too. I like that. I like that a lot. Nurse Nora comes into the room, and removes Anastasia' IV. She still manages to give me her stabbing stares. I shall remember Nora going down history as one of the few women who has managed to resist my charms. I smile after her as she leaves the room with Ana's IV stand. "Shall I take you home?" I ask. "I'd like to see Ray first." "Sure," I say. This will be good. Ray will probably give her a piece of his mind. "Does he know about the baby?" "I thought you'd want to be the one to tell him. I haven't told your mom either." "Thank you," she replies happily. "My mom knows," I add. "She saw your chart. I told my dad but to no one else. Mom said couples normally wait for twelve weeks or so... to be sure," I say shrugging. "I'm not sure I'm ready to tell Ray." "I should warn you, he's mad as hell. Said I should spank you," I tell her. "I told him I'd be only too willing to oblige." She looks at me shocked. "You didn't!" she gasps. I wink at her. Handing her a bag, I say, "Here, Taylor brought you some clean clothes. I'll help you dress." As I help Ana to get dressed, I see the widespread bruises over her body, and my anger grows in leaps and bounds. Those who inflicted pain on my wife and sister and anyone involved in aiding them will pay dearly. As we leave the room, I'm extremely relieved that this ordeal is nearly behind us. When we get to Ray's room, I leave the two of them

alone. The second I close the door, Ray's angry, and concerned parental voice echoes outside of his room. Anastasia profusely apologizes for being irresponsible, and tries to smooth him over. As I wait by the door, I call my parents to let them know Anastasia is being discharged. My Blackberry buzzes and I see Welch's name on the caller ID. "Grey," I answer. "Mr. Grey, Welch's here. I'm on my way to Seattle; we'll be departing Detroit shortly, and I need to see you about my findings tonight." "Can't it be done over the phone?" "No. I'm afraid not. It's got to be face to face, sir." "Okay. My wife is getting discharged today. I'll be taking her home soon. Tonight then. Let Taylor know the exact time you'll be at Escala once you get back." "Will do, sir. I'll see you tonight." I hang up. I continue to wait by Ray's door, and I would thoroughly enjoy him chewing Anastasia out for the way she behaved even though I don't want him to get his blood pressure up, but I am now preoccupied with the news Welch is going to deliver. He said he can't talk about it over the phone. It must be very bad. When Ana says her goodbyes to Ray, I take her hand and we leave through the rear exit of the hospital to avoid paparazzi and reporters. Taylor leads us through the employee entrance, and takes us to the waiting SUV. I make a mental list of things to do to locate the bail poster, and the ways in which I can collect my due for what he did to my wife, my sister, and nearly causing the miscarriage of our baby. But the concern of what Welch might have discovered in Detroit gnawing at me. Anastasia is talking to her mom on the phone, trying to calm her down. I think Carla is sobbing so hard, even Sawyer can hear her in the driver's seat whose gaze Anastasia is studiously avoiding. I hold Anastasia's hand throughout her conversation with her mom, brushing across her knuckles with my thumb, getting increasingly nervous. "What's wrong?" she asks as soon as she hangs up. "Welch wants to see me."

"Welch? Why?" "He's found something out about that fucker Hyde," I snarl. "He didn't want to tell me on the phone." "Oh." "He's coming here this afternoon from Detroit." "You think he's found a connection." I nod in response. "What do you think it is?" "I have no idea," I reply with furrowed brows, still perplexed. First time in what seems like forever, everything is right between my wife and I. My wife and our baby are well and in my embrace. She's discharged from the hospital. There is still a lot of unresolved problems with the fucker Hyde, another hidden enemy who aided Hyde. But, right now, we are going home. Home... where I will get to hold my wife in my arms, in our own bed and keep her safe. For everything else, there's always tomorrow.

CHAPTER V

HOMECOMING

Taylor pulls into the garage at Escala, and stopping the SUV by the elevators he drops us off to avoid the photographers and reporters. I take Anastasia out of the SUV. My arms still wrapped around her waist, I usher her to the waiting elevator. Once we’re in the elevator, I ask, “Glad to be home?” “Yes,” she says in a whispered tone. She looks around the elevator. Neither one of us have been home since Thursday. The last time I was here was early Thursday morning before Anastasia woke up. But, finally being in our home environment, having left the danger, the kidnappings, hospital stay behind, Anastasia inexorably has a breakdown. She starts shaking violently.

“Hey-“ I say wrapping my arms around her as I pull my wife closer. “You’re home. You’re safe,” I whisper over and over again to make her realize that the danger is over. I kiss her hair. “Oh, Christian,” she starts sobbing. The dam bursts and she weeps into my chest. “Hush now,” I whisper, cradling her head. I nearly lost my wife, my baby, my family. The only woman who means something for me, and her sorrow immediately bring forth the protective husband in me. Worry over her well-being, and revenge in equal measure brew inside me. It’s difficult for me to see her broken like this and not be furious at those who inflicted this pain, the nearly irreparable damage. She continues to weep into my chest. The elevator door dings open and I swoop her off the floor and carry my wife into the foyer. She wraps her arms around my neck and continues to sob quietly. I take her into our bedroom and carry her into the bathroom, and seat her down to a chair. “Bath?” I ask. She shakes her head No, almost violently. “Shower?” I ask with increased concern and fear choking me. She nods. I turn the shower on, and Ana starts sobbing into her hands. The water running in the shower emulates her flooding emotions. I’m a man who is used to being in control, used to having problems solved immediately. Seeing my wife in beaten, bruised, barely back from the brink of death, having lost weight so much in a matter of couple of days, and emotionally distraught maybe for a long time kills me inside. I promised to safeguard her, protect her, care for her, and I failed. “Hey,” I drone. I kneel in front of her, and gently pull her hands away from her face; cupping her tear-stained cheeks, I comfort her. She gazes at me, her eyes bewildered as if lost, but trying to find her focus. She blinks away her tears. “I’m sorry, Christian. Just sorry for everything. For making you worry, for risking everything…and for the things I said,” she says as she cries more. “Hush, baby, please,” I croon kissing her forehead. “I’m sorry, too. It takes two to tango, Ana,” I say smiling. I never thought I’d be quoting my mother. “Well, that’s what my mom always says. I said things and did things I’m not proud of,” I murmur with contrition and remorse. “Let’s get you undressed,” I murmur in a soft voice. She looks at me with red rimmed wide blue eyes, and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. I

kiss her forehead again, and stand her up, and make short work of taking her clothes off. But I show particular care when I pull her t-shirt off her head, because I don’t know how sore her head feels. I take my own clothes off lightning fast, and holding her hand, I lead my wife to the shower under the hot cascading water. I pull Anastasia into my arms, and hold her there for a long time as the water washes down the dirt, sorrow, and problems of the last few days which felt like years. Holding her like this in my arms when I thought she was leaving me, and then I thought she died when I found her is both relieving as well as surreal. The worry at the hospital that she may not wake up or recover nearly killed me with anguish. I am beyond grateful for having her in my arms right now. We are home. Knowing that there are people, who mean and wish harm on me, and on the people I love without a second thought for the sake of reaching my millions, or trying to exact revenge constricts my heart, and gives me a fervent determination to protect those I love; fiercely and violently if necessary. Heavy in Your Arms - Florence & The Machine

Anastasia cries over my chest, silently, and with heart wrenching sobs until she runs out of tears. I hold her and kiss her head as she lets out all her fears, worries and stress and let the water wash it off her. I rock her soothingly in a gentle rhythm, holding her skin against skin, her cheek rubbing my chest hair. All I want to do is to protect her, love her, and keep her safe. She finally stops crying and steps back. “Better?” I ask cautiously and she nods in response. “Good. Let me look at you,” I say wanting to take inventory of her injuries. She looks at me blankly but I take her hand and examine her arm, take note of the bruises on her shoulder and cuts and scrapes at her elbow and wrist. Each one breaks my heart. Jack Hyde beat my wife up, kicked her on the ground because of his hatred for me, because he wanted to have her and she denied him. I kiss each and every one of her bruises as if my kisses would make them better; heal them somehow. I take the washcloth and shower gel from the shelf and squeeze the gel onto the washcloth, lathering it. Sweet scent of jasmine fills our nostrils, but it doesn’t make me feel calm as it would have normally done after seeing my wife’s bruised up body. “Turn around,” I ask her. I start lathering her injured arm, her neck, shoulder, her back and her other arm. When I turn her sideways, I trace her side and the large bruise where she was kicked; Anger boils in me, ready to erupt. When my fingers reach the particular bruise darkened in a purple and blue shade, she winces immediately with pain. I can see that the bruise is deep, extending into her muscles and ribs. I close my

eyes as if I’m the one who is pained, and my lips turn into a thin line. Air hisses through my teeth. Anger is the least of what I feel. “It doesn’t hurt,” she murmurs to placate me, but I have a hard time believing it. She’s trying to soothe me. I have this murderous rage rise in me. Hyde made every effort to kidnap my wife, and there is every evidence that he didn’t want to let her or Mia leave the place alive. When his first efforts failed, he made a second effort. If he was given another chance, I know he would make another attempt on her life if he had the chance. I just want to eliminate him, and the danger he created for my family. My eyes are blazing volcanoes, dangerous, meeting hers. “I want to kill him. I nearly did,” I whisper remembering how close I came to kill him. It took the police officers to pull their guns on me; but even that wouldn’t have stopped me. It was only the knowledge that my wife needed immediate medical attention and I wanted to be with her when she was getting it. My breathing increases and I try to push the memory away. I squirt a little more shower gel into the washcloth and gently, and tenderly I wash her sides, her buttocks and her back. Then I kneel before my wife as if submitting to her, and wash her legs reverently. I see the bruise on her knee, darkened, looking painful. I lean into it, and gently kiss it. Then wash her lower legs and her feet. Anastasia’s hands reach down and caress my wet hair, her fingers lacing through my wet strands. I slowly rise to my feet. As I stand up I get to take in the bruises on her ribs again. “Oh, baby,” I groan in a tormented voice. I have to distract myself from jumping out of the shower, making my way to the hospital and finding the fucker to ending his miserable life so that he can never harm another human being again.

“I’m okay,” she soothes me. She reaches up, her hands caging my face, and pulling me down to her lips. I hesitate. Because a kiss is never just a kiss for us... Just a simple touch onto her lips will turn us both on. I can’t do that when she’s injured. Her lips mold into mine anyway full of need and desire and she starts kissing me passionately despite my hesitation. Her tongue forces its way into my mouth, and I’m lost. My tongue meets

hers, caressing it in gentle but sensual strokes, reacquainting itself with her mouth. And my cock stirs, growing and pressing against her body. Oh, fuck! I can’t do that! “No,” I whisper against her lips, and pull her back away from me. “Let’s get you clean.” She pouts, upset at me for breaking the connection between us after seeing how serious I am about it. I don’t want to put her in danger by having sex with her. I haven’t had my wife in days, and I don’t want to lose control. Even if I’m very gentle, she might get hurt with her bruised muscles, and injured ribs. She’s mad; Feisty even. Putting her hands on her hips, she glares at me angrily like a child who is told she couldn’t have candy, her reaction makes me grin. I kiss her briefly, but break our connection to not to arouse her further. “Clean… Not dirty,” I enunciate. “I like dirty,” she responds.

“Me, too, Mrs. Grey. But not now, not here,” I say. Without giving her chance to say another word, I take the shampoo, squeezing some into my palm; I take it to her hair, and start washing it. She knows I mean business, and finally closing her eyes, gives herself to the gentle rubbing by my fingers, relaxing under the water. After thoroughly massaging her hair, I let the warm water run the suds out of her hair, and run over her back into the drain in lazy rivulets. Once I wash her completely, I start washing my hair, and body. She wants to wash me. I let her because I am craving her touch in any way possible. But when her hand lingers on my cock, her soapy hand gliding up and

down, trying to pump me, and giving me a big hard on, I have to remove her hand, and endure the repressed desire accompanied by a pulsing painful erection. When we come out of the shower, she somehow looks happier, energized, and relaxed. I wrap her in a large plush bath towel, and wrap one around my hips. Anastasia starts drying her hair while I’m drying mine with a towel. “I still don’t understand why Elizabeth was involved with Jack,” she mutters confused. “I do,” I reply darkly remembering the fucker’s hold on her. She is completely surprised, and looks up at me. When she sees me drying my hair, my chest and shoulders still wet with glistening water, she makes a visible effort to gather her thoughts. She looks like I’m something to eat; her gaze never leaving my body. I am incredibly tempted, with her gaze having a direct line to my cock, my barely tamed erection seeking full growth again. “Enjoying the view?” I ask. “How do you know?” she asks trying to ignore the fact that I caught her staring. Even if I didn’t see her staring, my body has a direct connection. When we are near each other, I feel her presence, her gaze, her mood. “That you’re enjoying the view?” I tease. “No,” she scolds me changing the topic. “About Elizabeth.” “Detective Clark hinted at it.” She raises her eyebrows, in her usual manner demanding me to tell her more. “Hyde had videos. Videos of all of them. On several USB flash drives.” She frowns, completely shocked with this information. “Videos of him fucking her and fucking all his PAs,” I say without giving her the details. Her eyes widen with understanding. “Exactly. Blackmail material. He likes it rough,” I say frowning. That’s sort of like me. I like it rough, and I have still images of my subs though they were made aware of the picture were being taken both for recreation at the time as well as against any exposure.

It is not unlike me. I am immediately disgusted of myself, and filled with self-loathing. I have fucked harder, tried more kinky shit than Hyde can even dream of. “Don’t!” Anastasia warns me. I frown at her, not comprehending her meaning. “Don’t what?” I ask and regard her with uneasiness and worry. Did I do something to hurt her? “You aren’t anything like him.” My eyes harden. She knew what I was thinking. Of course she would. We understand each other wordlessly often. “You’re not,” she says stubbornly. “We’re cut from the same cloth,” I murmur with disgust. “No, you’re not,” she snaps. How could she think that? We both have had fucked up childhoods. I don’t know my dad; his dad died in a bar brawl. My mother was a crack whore, his was a drunk, and a drug addict. I am an adopted child by the Greys, and he was in and out of foster homes. He had a troubled childhood boosting cars; I drank as a teen, and fought with everyone possible and was kicked out of three schools in one year. I could have ended up in juvie like he did had it not been for Elena focusing my attention in sex, and my parents keeping a tight leash on me. We are the same shit! “You both have troubled pasts, and you were both born in Detroit. That’s it, Christian,” she says fisting her hands on her hips. “Ana, your faith in me is touching, especially in light of the last few days. We’ll know more when Welch is here,” I say dismissing the topic. She isn’t going to change my views on this. I am disgusted about myself; about how I behaved and distanced my wife from me with my own disturbing behavior; I’m responsible with her falling prey to Hyde because I wasn’t trusting enough to ask her the right questions at the bank. I am lucky that she’s alive and with me today. “Christian—“ she starts, but I cut her off with a kiss. “Enough,” I breathe into her lips. I expect her to pester me more, but she doesn’t. She stops with a pout. “And don’t pout,” I say. “Come. Let me dry your hair.” After she’s dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, I sit her between my legs to have full access to her hair while

effectively quieting her down. Drying her hair and having this access to her relaxes us both. Once the drier is silenced, I take her to our bed, sit her in front of me and I start combing her hair with a hairbrush. “So did Clark tell you anything else while I was unconscious?” she asks. “Not that I recall.” “I heard a few of your conversations,” she retorts. Which conversations did she hear? My hand with the hairbrush stills in her hair. What did she hear? How much did she hear? “Did you?” I probe nonchalantly. “Yes. My dad, your dad, Detective Clark…your mom,” she says. She heard just about everyone. “And Kate?” “Kate was there?” she asks. “Briefly, yes. She’s mad at you, too,” I tell her. She immediately turns in my lap. “Stop with the everyone is mad at Ana crap, okay?” she snaps. “Just telling you the truth,” I murmur perplexed with her sudden conniption. “Yes, it was reckless, but you know, your sister was in danger,” she says. Remembering how close they both came to dying makes my face fall again. “Yes. She was,” I say holding her chin up. “Thank you,” I say and register the shock in her face in the face of my gratitude for her. “But no more recklessness. Because next time, I will spank the living shit out of you,” I threatened with nothing but truth in my tone. She gasps. “You wouldn’t!” “I most certainly would,” I say, my tone serious. She searches my face and sees the iron determination. “I have your stepfather’s permission.” I smirk. She is trying to see if I’m kidding. She launches herself at me, and I twist so that she falls onto the bed and right

into my arms. This could have led to dirtier acts, but she winces with pain. The sight of her nearly writhing in pain drains the blood out of my face. “Behave!” I censure her, angrily; both at her and at myself for giving in. “Sorry,” she mutters, and her hand caresses my cheek. Her touch means a lot to me, and I nuzzle into it, kissing her hand gently. “Honestly, Ana, you really have no regard for your own safety.” I tug the hem of her t-shirt and put my fingers on her belly where our baby is residing. Anastasia stops breathing.

“It’s not just you anymore,” I whisper as my fingers skate over her waistband, and her skin underneath. The wonder is that my child, our baby that we made together is growing inside my wife. But right at that moment, I feel Anastasia gasping with desire, and her body getting hot, her face getting flush with lust. I tense immediately, and stop moving my fingers and gaze down at her. I deliberately move my finger away from her belly and just tuck a lose strand of hair. “No,” I whisper. I want nothing more right now than to have my wife, make love to her, and bury myself so deep in her for days; but we can’t. Not without hurting her, and that is something I will not do. She gazes at me with a look laced with disappointment, intense desire, and carnal lust all bundled in one. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ve seen the bruises. And the answer is no,” I say in a firm, determined voice. As I kiss her forehead, she squirms beneath me. “Christian,” she whines. “No. Get into bed,” I say sitting up.

“Bed?” “You need rest.” “I need you.” That takes me aback and it takes all my self-control to tear myself away from her. I close my eyes and shake my head, trying to cut some of my senses off to prevent giving into her will. When I finally regain control, and make up my mind that her safety comes before her desire for me, I manage to open my eyes decidedly. “Just do as you’re told, Ana.” She finally manages to nod, however reluctantly. “Okay,” she says pouting like a small child, making me laugh out loud. “I’m going to heat something up. Mrs. Jones has been busy.” “Christian, I’ll do it. I’m fine. Jeez, I want sex – I can certainly cook,” she says as she sits up clumsily and with difficulty. But I can see the pain in her eyes as she tries to hide her ache. “Bed!” I order pointing to the pillow, my eyes flashing. “Join me,” she murmurs, trying to entice me. “Ana, get into the bed. Now!” I order once again. She looks at me with narrowed eyes, and then scowls. Standing up, she drops her sweatpants brusquely to the floor, managing to glare at me the entire time. I try not to smile at her antics, but it’s hard not to do it. I pull back the duvet to let her in. “You heard Dr. Singh. She said rest,” I remind her in a gentler voice. She gets in the bed and folds her arms in exasperation. “Stay,” I command again, finally making my wife do as I order. She scowls deeper. I go to the kitchen and heat up the chicken stew Mrs. Jones has prepared. I fix two trays; one for Ana and one for me. Taking the food to our bedroom, I sit Anastasia up in the bed so she can enjoy her food. I sit on the bed cross-legged and eat with her. “That was very well heated,” she smirks, and I grin at her in response. When she finishes all her food, she looks full and ready to sleep. “You look tired,” I tell her, and take her tray away from her.

“I am,” she says yawning. “Good. Sleep,” I say kissing her. “I have some work I need to do. I’ll do it in here if that’s okay with you.” She nods, but unable to keep awake, her eyes close. I take the trays out to the kitchen, rinsing them; I leave the dishes in the sink. Then taking my laptop, I walk back to our bedroom, and sit on my side of the bed to work. I go through my piled up e-mails. Ros and Warren have been in Taiwan for the signing of the documents and inspecting the shipyard. She says all is going well and that they are coming back today. I go over the signed documents, and her annotations. God! There is hundreds of e-mail accumulated. I sort them by category and go over the most important ones. My Blackberry buzzes with an incoming text. It’s a message from Taylor: *Welch is here to see you.* This is the dreaded meeting, but one I must go through to find out the link between Hyde and I. It will give me a better understanding why the fucker is obsessed with me. I text back. *Take him to my office. I’m coming.* When I get to my office, Welch is sitting down and a large manila envelope is on my desk suspiciously waiting for me. He gets up to greet me, and Taylor is waiting his hands tied on his back at ease. I walk to my seat, and show him his chair again to seat him down. “Tell me about your trip,” I start the conversation. “My starting point for the search was at your former living quarters. The apartments are still there, but I wanted to see if the former occupants included Hyde and his mother at any point. But there were no records of your paths crossing in any way when you were with your birth mother. You haven’t gone to school, or joined in a play group. You had no known relatives. After confirming that you had no connection with Hyde while you were with the birth mother, I searched for a connection after you were taken away from the scene of death. What I discovered is interesting. Do you remember the brief time you were in foster care before your adoption was finalized by the Dr. and Mr. Grey?” he asks.

“Foster care? I was in foster care?” I ask him completely shocked. “Yes, sir, you were. For a brief time. I want to first give you a general picture of the circumstances surrounding your adoption to help you better understand how and why you were in foster care which will greatly explain how you and Hyde were at the same place, and at the same time,” he says. I am immediately pure attention, my eyebrows rising. I’m in such a shock; he could knock me over with a feather! “What? Did you say that I was with him at the same place and time?” “Yes, sir, I did. I’m coming to that, but I need to explain how that occurred in the first place. According to current adoption laws, if a couple is approved for adoption already, there’s usually no waiting period for open adoptions within the individual’s home state granted that the child is also a resident of that state. But the laws were different then. I think it’s very important for me to make the adoption laws clear to you in 1987 – the year you were adopted, sir. I almost didn’t uncover that and we could have easily overlooked your foster home stay. Because the year you were adopted, there were several changes to the adoption laws. It wasn’t easy for me to uncover them, because some of them applied to your case and some didn’t, and it is incredibly difficult to locate information because the records aren’t kept in one place, and some are achieved and some are simply nonexistent. It’s a big maze, but I contacted Pella. He pointed me in the right direction with the changes to the adoption laws, state archives as well as records by different foster care agencies. In the state of Michigan, if a child is to be adopted, the child must be completely free of any legal guardian at first, and must become the ward of the state. That’s one of the primary conditions of a child’s adoptability. If the prospective adoptive parent is married to one of the parents and the step-parent is a candidate for adoption of that child, the biological parent who is the spouse of that adoptive parent must first agree to sever his or her parental rights and the child must fully become a ward of the state for the duration of the adoption process. The rights of the biological mother or father who is being replaced with an adoptive parent must have already been severed either voluntarily or by the state. I have checked the adoption laws and that was the law at the time of your adoption. Your biological mother died, and you didn’t have a biological father in the picture. You became the ward of the state. Even if the Grey family was qualified to adopt you, the laws stated that your blood relations must be sought out. If no one came forward, then you would become adoptable. During that process the child to be adopted couldn’t live with the adoptive parents. That’s how you were placed in a foster home.”

“So, how does Hyde come in to the picture?” “That’s the other issue. I have located the family who fostered you. Legally, the names of the minors cannot be made public knowledge to others. Apparently those laws were even stricter before. And the state social services do not have all the records. States have been working with many foster care agencies. Unfortunately their record-keeping is woefully behind times. Not all the records are available, and much of the information is missing. The court documents are nonsensical. I had to go through all of the court records to discover that you were in fact in foster care. But the name of the agency wasn’t available in the records. I had to locate an employee who worked at the time of your adoption, and she led me to the known foster care agencies of the time. One the third try I managed to get a name of the agency and from there the name of the family who fostered you,” he says solemnly. “Who was it?” I ask in a whisper. “Janice and Chuck Collier, and their twin sons and teenage daughter. The family took in foster children for years to supplement their income. You weren’t the first one to be fostered with them, or the last, sir,” he says. I look at him impassively, I am anything but. How does that tie in with Hyde? “And?” “You see, because I represent you, I can reach your records, and find out about them. But legally, we aren’t allowed to do that about Hyde. I basically hit a dead end there until I located the family. Well, Mrs. Collier, to be exact. Her husband passed away of a heart attack about two years ago. She still lives in the same house. You were placed into the Colliers’ care for two months and nine days. That’s how long the court allocated for any possible blood relative of yours to come forward to claim you, and once no one came forth, your adoption process went though. Meanwhile, you remained with the Collier family as a foster child through the conclusion of your adoption. Mrs. Collier remembers you,” he says. “She does? What did she say?” I ask surprised. “Mrs. Collier is about 67 years old now. She and her husband fostered tens of children over the years, but she remembers you. She said that you were four years old but looked a lot younger than your age; you were scared, and didn’t talk. She remembers you being very malnourished. She said you bonded with her and liked to sit next to her while she read to you; but never on her lap which she found odd for a child of that age.

You tried to remain distant from her husband. She said that you had a very distinct and unusual fear of adult males. She told me of one story: Apparently her husband, an exarmy man liked punctuality at the dinner table, and you were playing with a small toy car. When Mr. Collier called you to come to dinner table, you got scared and hid in the cabinet under the sink, clutching to your blanket,” he says. My eyes widen and I swallow hard. “Go on…” I ask. I remember nothing of this. It’s driving me crazy. I remember just about everything of my past, but not a shred of memory of this time. “And before you came to live with them, the foster family had two other foster kids. One of the children was returned to her maternal grandmother just a couple of days before you were put in their care, and there was one other child still remaining in their home. A nine year old orphaned boy whose mother went to jail for drug possession. She remembers his first name, but not the last name.” “What was the name?” I ask, unable to recognize my rough voice. “Jack. His name was Jack.” “She said that her family had many foster children over the years. She wouldn’t have remembered you but, two things stuck out with you: you didn’t talk, and that you were adopted by a rich family which surprised her.” “Why would it surprise her?” I ask miffed. “She said she liked you a lot but she assumed a very rich family like that would adopt a baby or …” he says stopping, and clearing his throat. “Go ahead, don’t sugar coat it for me, Welch!” I order, my eyes ablaze. “…a non-special needs child with less baggage, or better breeding. She said that she wasn’t saying it to be unkind, because she has fostered so many children, but you didn’t speak, didn’t let people to touch you, hid with the sight of an adult male, but in desperate need of care. According to her a lot of those children went unadopted including the ones she fostered. They ended up remaining in the foster system until they reached 18, or a relative claimed them which she said was also rare. That’s why she was extremely happy for you to have found a good home.” “Anything else?”

“Yes, I have couple of pictures,” he says handing me two faded pictures. The top picture is of a dilapidated small house with an oddly yellow front door and a roof window. The front porch looks worn out and paint peeled off from what I can see, and the front yard is nondescript. I shuffle the house picture below, and bring up the other picture. It’s the picture of a family in front of the house with the yellow door. The adults in the picture look to be in their mid-40s, a husband and wife by the looks of it. The man has buzz cut, thick in the middle, and wearing worn-out clothes. The woman’s hair is scraped back and blonde; she too is wearing bedraggled, overused clothing. But, they both seem cheerful. The man has his hand draped over his irritable looking teenage daughter. His twin sons look to be about twelve years old seem cheerful and grinning. “The Colliers?” I ask. “Yes, sir. Chuck and Janice Collier, their twin sons and teenage daughter.” I recognize myself in the picture, hiding behind a red haired boy. My nostrils flare and my eyes widen. I gaze at my picture for two solid minutes. I look dirty, extremely malnourished, scared, dressed in mismatched clothes, clutching a dirty child’s blanket. I look like a two year old, not a four year old. I’m hiding behind a reddish blond haired, scowling boy who looks to be under ten years old. “Who is the other boy?” I ask. “That-“ Welch says significantly, “is Jack Hyde.” “Is it confirmed?” “Yes, sir. He was in the foster care system until his mother reclaimed him. Mrs. Collier didn’t remember his last name, but she remembers his first name and him being an aggressive child. She said that he got hostile towards you after your adoptive parents came to visit you about a week before your adoption went through,” he says, and that statement immediately raises alarm bells. “I had to backtrack to locate Hyde’s foster family records because he had been in a few different homes for a lot longer periods. But those records were a lot harder to find, because his state records only had one entry and some of the records were achieved and I had to pull a lot of strings and pay off workers to get access to his information. But meanwhile, I went back to the same foster care agency that placed you with the Colliers to cross check and verify the information Mrs. Collier provided and had them let me look at the records for about 15 minutes. There he was. I just took pictures of the records because I wasn’t allowed to make copies,” he says and pushes the large manila envelope towards me. “This file contains

information both on you and Hyde and it puts you both in the same place with the Collier family -- between May 13ththrough July 22nd of 1987. You and Hyde shared the same foster family for two months and nine days. That’s how you two first met; that’s where he knows you from! The thumb drive in there also contains all the videos he’s made fucking his assistants and Elizabeth Morgan,” he says emphasizing. I look at him bewildered, speechless for a moment. “Where did you get that?” “Let’s just say that it’s a good will gesture from the local law enforcement for our further help and cooperation.” “What about the police investigation here? Have you heard anything other than this?” “They’ll take a while to reconstruct the scene, sir, and the fucker is still in the hospital, but not talking. Of course Morgan woman is chirping away to save her own ass. But, I wanted you to be the first one to get the information. Do you want to submit our findings to the police?” “Yes, to my lawyers as well. I want to make sure that the fucker doesn’t see the light of day again. This will show them that it’s not a random act of violence but rooted in the past.” “Yes, sir. I will inform you if any new information resurfaces,” he says before he leaves. Taylor glances at me solemnly before he leads Welch out. I look at the files Welch brought and a cold chill runs over me. I stick the thumb flash drive into the USB port, and several files open. I click on each one and note him fucking different women with different hardcore BDSM styles. The fucker likes it rough. Shit! He’s like me in more ways than one! Taking the two pictures Welch brought, I walk back to our bedroom like a zombie. Anastasia is still sleeping. I sit in the armchair watching my wife, the only person who is anchoring me to here and now. The fucker Hyde almost killed her because of his hatred for me, for not getting who and what belongs to me. I’m shaken to my core, my face is ghastly. I am missing a chunk of my past. I don’t remember anything about it. Nothing! Not a single vision or a simple memory. Why? I remember everything else before and after. Why not this period? I look at the picture over and over again, and yet all I see is the faces of strangers. I don’t remember them. I am a man who likes to know everything; knowledge gives me control and power. Yet I don’t wield that power over my own past. It’s driving me insane. I still

have to make the connection between what Hyde had written in his ransom note, and this missing information. The fact that Hyde knows something about me that I don’t, and that fucker’s wielding control over my past is tormenting me inside. The sun is setting behind me, and the dusk is settling over Seattle sky like a blanket. It’s the magic hour. The crimson and orange lights of the sunset are slightly seeping into our bedroom. The last lights of the day in pink and crimson colors dance on Anastasia’s face. I am fixated on her as if without her I will be lost forever. She stirs in bed, removes her arm from her forehead, and blinks a few times. Upon seeing my tormented face she sits up immediately. “What’s wrong?” she asks, wincing. “Welch has just left,” I mutter. “And?” she asks anxiously. “I lived with the fucker,” I manage to whisper. “Lived? With Jack?” I nod in response my eyes wide, still stunned. “You’re related?” “No. Good God, no.” She moves in bed, making room for me, and opens up the duvet, patting the space next to her in bed. I kick off my shoes, and immediately get in bed with her. I need to be close to her. I can’t be inside her when she’s physically hurting like this; but I still have to have physical touch. I need her desperately. I wrap one arm around her, and curl up next to her, putting my head on her lap. Her hand reaches into my hair, and she starts running her fingers through my hair soothing me. I can feel her penetrating gaze on me. “I don’t understand,” she mutters. I close my eyes, and strain to remember the past, furrowing my brows. “After I was found with the crack whore, before I went to live with Carrick and Grace, I was in the care of state of Michigan. I lived in a foster home. But I can’t remember anything about that time,” I say still tormented with the lack of memory of that time.

“For how long?” she whispers her question. “Two months or so. I have no recollection.” “Have you spoken to your mom and dad about it?” she asks. I haven’t even thought about asking them. I don’t like asking help from anyone. “No,” I reply simply. “Perhaps you should. Maybe they could fill in the blanks.” I hug her tighter, and curl up as close as possible to my wife. I extend my hand holding the pictures. “Here,” I say. Ana leans down and turns the side table lamp on to see better. She silently observes the pictures for a long time. Finally, I hear her whispered voice: “This is you.” Her eyes teary. I nod. “That’s me.” “Welch brought these photos?” “Yes. I don’t remember any of this,” I mutter in a flat, insipid and desolate voice. “You mean remember being with foster parents? Why should you? Christian, it was a long time ago. Is this what’s worrying you?” “I remember other things, from before and after. When I met my mom and dad. But this… I don’t remember this. This is like a huge chasm.” Her hand caresses my hair again absently, and I lift my head up under her arm. “Is Jack in this picture? “Yes, he’s the older kid,” I say closing my eyes tightly shut, trying to center myself. Trying to remember and trying to forget, to shove away the bad memories. I hold onto my wife with all I’ve got, embracing her as if something is going to toss me out of her orbit, and I’ll be lost forever. “When Jack called to tell me he had Mia, he said if things had been different, it could have been him.”

I close my eyes and spew my epithet. “That fucker!” Of course he would. If what Mrs. Collier said is correct about Hyde’s aggression after meeting my parents, he would think that I cheated him out of a family he could have gotten. He’s really sick in the head. “You think he did all this because the Greys adopted you instead of him?” “Who knows?” I say in a bitter tone. “I don’t give a fuck about him.” “Perhaps he knew we were seeing each other when I went for that job interview. Perhaps he planned to seduce me all along,” she mutters disgustedly. “I don’t think so,” reply, finally my eyes open. “The searches he did on my family didn’t start until a week or so after you began your job at SIP. Barney knows the exact dates. And, Ana, he fucked all his assistants and taped them,” I say holding onto Anastasia tighter. A shiver runs through Ana. She contemplates for a minute. “Christian, I think you should talk to your mom and dad,” she urges as she shifts in the bed, sliding back, she comes eye to eye with me. Her concerned blue gaze locks with my bewildered eyes. I am tormented that I lived with someone a very long time ago, and this person attempted to harm me, my family and business over and over again. It took me a long time to uncover this fact, and the void in my head, the lack of memories regarding that time is a black hole inside. “Let me call them,” she whispers. I shake my head in the negative. I don’t like asking for help from anyone, even from my parents. I have learned to take care of myself, and I’ve done that all my life. “Please,” she begs. I stare at her, distress and vacillation lacing every fiber of my being, reflecting through my gaze. I don’t know if I should call my parents. I’ve not asked them for anything for years. But, Ana is my rock. Maybe they can shed some light into that time of my life. “I’ll call them,” I whisper. “Good. We can go and see them together, or you can go. Whichever you prefer,” she says softly. I don’t want to take her for a car ride in her injured state, or leave her alone at home. If my parents are available, they can come here. But I doubt they are. “No. They can come here.”

“Why?” “I don’t want you going anywhere.” “Christian, I’m up for a car ride.” “No!” I say unyielding, but smile at her. The trip may not be necessary. “Anyway, it’s Saturday night, they’re probably at some function.” They participate in a lot of charities and attend social gatherings with their friends and colleagues. “Call them!” she insists. “This news has obviously upset you. They might be able to shed some light,” she says. Then turns her head and looks at the alarm clock. It reads 6:54 p.m. I gaze at my wife for a moment impassively, contemplating. There’s only love and concern on her face for me. I don’t want to add worry to her already full plate. She’s pregnant, too. Stress wouldn’t be good for her or our baby. “Okay,” I acquiesce. I sit up, and take the cordless phone sitting atop the side table. As Anastasia wraps her arm around me and rests her head on my chest, I take a deep breath and dial my parent’s home phone. “Grey residence,” my father answers. “Dad?” I respond completely surprised to find him home. I called him at home hoping they wouldn’t be there. “Hi Christian! How’s Ana? Are you back at the hospital?” he asks concerned. “Ana’s good. We’re home right now,” I say and take another shaky breath. “Welch has just left. He found out the connection…” “Connection? With Hyde?” “Yes. The foster home in Detroit.” “Oh! I have totally forgotten about that!” Then he speaks to someone in a muffled voice. “It’s Christian, darling. He found the connection with the Hyde character…” then he replies my mom’s question. “The foster home in Detroit…Yes, I was surprised as well,” he says.

“I don’t remember any of that,” I say in a barely audible voice. Ana hugs me tighter, and I squeeze her shoulder in response. “Well, your mom remembers it.” “Yeah?” “Yes, we can come and talk to you about it if you like.” “You can? You will?” “Yes, I suppose we can leave as soon as your mom can grab her jacket and purse.” “Great!” I respond, hanging up. My parents are willing to drive here to explain something about my past? Why am I still surprised about it? “They’re on their way,” I tell Ana, unable to shake off the astonishment from my voice. “Good. I should get dressed,” Anastasia says. I hold her tighter as if I’d lose my sun if she were to move a few feet away to get dressed. “Don’t go,” I whisper. “Okay,” she says snuggling into my side, and holding me until the feeling of loss subsides.

*****❦ ♡ ❧***** When my parents arrive at Escala, we meet them at the Great room’s entry. My parents beam at us. My mom makes a beeline to Anastasia and gently hugs her while my dad shakes my hand. “Ana, Ana, darling Ana,” my mom whispers her gratitude. “Saving two of my children. How can I ever thank you?” she asks, making my wife blush. Then my dad hugs Anastasia, kissing her forehead. But my ever rambunctious sister grabs Anastasia and squeezes her tight forgetting she has bruised ribs! I see Ana gasping and wincing, as Mia mutters, “thank you for saving me from those assholes.” “Mia!” I glower at her. “You need to be careful! She’s in pain.” “Oh! Sorry,” Mia says chagrined.

“I’m good,” Anastasia tries to placate. But she takes a sigh of relief when Mia releases her. She takes a good look at my sister and notes her tight black jeans, pale pink frilly blouse. Then her eyes imperceptibly drift to her own clothes. She looks just wonderful in her wrap dress, and flats. I want her to be comfortable when she’s healing. Mia rushes towards me and gives me a strong hug putting her arms around my waist. Once Mia lets go of me, my parents look at me expectantly. I hand my mom the pictures. They both lean into the pictures, and my mom gasps, her hand immediately flying to her mouth to stifle the outpour of her emotions. Her gaze is full of recognition. My dad’s face is somber as he wraps his arm around my mother to lend her strength. “Oh, darling,” my mother caresses my cheek. Taylor comes to the entryway and clears his throat. “Mr. Grey? Miss Kavanagh, her brother, and your brother are coming up, sir.” What? I didn’t invite them. Not when Ana barely got home and still hurting. I frown. “Thank you, Taylor,” I mutter, completely bewildered. “I called Elliot and told him we were coming over,” my sister says grinning. “It’s a welcome home party,” she says shrugging. So, this is all her doing. My parents glare at my sister with displeasure as Anastasia looks at me sympathetically. “We’d better get some food together,” Ana announces. “Mia, would you give me a hand?” “Oh, I’d love to,” she replies. As Anastasia and Mia make their way to the kitchen, I lead my parents into my study. After my parents enter, I close the door, and show them to the chairs before my desk. I go and stand leaning onto my desk. “I don’t remember anything of that time. In fact, this is the first time I ever heard that I was in foster care.” “It completely escaped my mind as well. It’s been so long,” my dad says turning to my mother. “I remember it well,” she says softly, swallowing hard. “We adopted Elliot, so we were clear as adoptive parent candidates. But since your birth mom died and there was no father name registered, the state by law had the obligation of waiting to see if any blood

relatives come forward to claim you,” she says. My gaze is hard; my lips are taut and pursed into a tight line. I am so glad that no fucking family members came through from any of my blood relations. If they couldn’t be a decent family to their daughter, what good could they do for me except contribute to my fuckeduppedness? “It was the longest two months we waited, concerned that someone might come forward and take you. Someone who may be detrimental to your well-being... I have seen a lot of children abused in the hands of their relatives; you were in greater danger, because you have already experienced that in your former home, darling.” “Was her pimp my biological father?” I ask, bracing myself for the worst. “No, he wasn’t,” says my dad resolutely. “How can you be sure?” “I’ve seen him at the police station when he was called in to give his statement. He looks nothing like you, and he adamantly denied that you were his, claiming he had a vasectomy, and he did have proof which he provided later. We’re hundred percent sure that he wasn’t related to you in any way. He claims that your biological mother didn’t know who the father was,” he says and I give a sigh of relief. “Have you met my foster parents?” I ask wanting to confirm what Mrs. Collier stated to Welch. “A few times. The last one being was the week before we the adoption papers were finalized,” my mom replies. “Do you remember seeing the other boy?” I ask both of them. “To be honest son, we weren’t paying attention to the other children in the foster family’s home. There were other kids in their home, but we didn’t know which ones were their own or if there were any other foster kids. So, obviously we didn’t want to offend them in any way by scrutinizing their children. We came and spent time with you and brought you a toy, and some basic clothing items.” I nod. I knew nothing of this! Seemingly a simple piece of information, but a missing chunk of my past. An important piece… My mind keeps going back to the possibility of what would have happened if someone did come forward. What if the fucking pimp even claimed that he was my dad and continued to abuse me? What if… what if… I’m completely unsettled, tense, and agitated as if this happened just yesterday. At this moment, I’m so fucking

shaken as if I just dropped out of the sky aimlessly; I don’t feel like the domineering CEO of Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc., but a lost boy. I shake my head. “I don’t remember any of it. I remember all the other shit from before… with the crack whore, the pimp, the abuse. Still have nightmares about them. And more after the adoption. But I don’t remember any of this! Nothing,” I whisper, my eyes wide. My mom reaches and holds my hand in hers. “I’m so very happy that you called us to help you remember,” she says. “Ana told me to call you. I don’t know if I would have. She wanted me to…” I say shrugging. “She’s a wonderful girl. She loves you, son. I don’t know what we would have done without her. She gave you back to us in so many ways, lit you up like fireworks, and now saved Mia’s life. She’ll make us grandparents, too! She’s heaven sent!” my mother gushes with tears as if Anastasia just walked on water after healing a colony of lepers all in one evening. “I have never been so happy for having been proven wrong, Christian,” my dad says. “What Ana has done for our family cannot be repaid. She put her life, her baby’s life in danger for our daughter, and she loves you madly. She makes you communicate with us. Do you realize how long it’s been since we’ve had this kind of heart to heart or even close to it without counting the hospital?” “That would be almost never.” “It’s not because we didn’t try. The last time I really tried to reach you was when you left Harvard and we had that blow-up. After that you put up thicker walls around you, son. After that no matter what I did, how much I tried to connect with you, you were distant; miles away. Always cordial, respectful, but an independent entity, not as much a father-son, though I have attempted to be close to you. This,” he says gesturing around the room with his hand, “this is a first. But I am happy to know that you are close your mom. I want you to know, we…” he corrects himself, “…we want you to know that you should be able to come to us with anything without fearing or expecting of our judgment, or criticism, or apprehension,” he says as my mom nods fervently, her eyes brimming with tears, one hand clutching to mine, the other stifling a sob over her mouth.

“We only have Ana to thank for giving you back to us,” my mom whispers. “I know mom. Do you remember anything else about my foster care?” I ask my parents. “Well, when we visited you, the foster mom made some delicious baked goods which were amazing and offered us some and you seemed to love her pastries, and she was cooking dinner as we were getting ready to leave which smelled heavenly. She was very polite. Asked us to stay for dinner, but we didn’t want to intrude on them, and left. It’s been a long time, but I do remember that,” my mom says. “Thank you for sharing this information mom and dad,” I say, still dismal and shaken. I stand up. My mom hands me the pictures back, and I put them on my desk. I'm reeling a million miles an hour; so much shit to sort through in my head. I show my parents out of my study in a daze. The loud sounds of visitors greet us outside the door. When I walk back to the great room after my parents, I’m still ashen, but when I see Anastasia with a glass of champagne in her hand, my eyes widen. What the hell is she thinking? She can’t have alcohol when she’s pregnant! A Million Miles an Hour - Eastern Conference Champions

I see Katherine Kavanagh, and greet her coolly while walking towards Anastasia. “Kate.” She responds, “Christian,” in equally cool measure. My eyes are locked on the glass Anastasia is holding. “Your meds, Mrs. Grey,” I say pointedly. She narrows her eyes on me. My mother joins us with a glass of champagne of her own. “A sip will be fine,” she says with a wink. I scowl at them both. “Hey bro! Did you catch the Mariners and the Rangers game?” he asks. “No. How was it?” “We lost 7 to 6. But it was a great game!” “Who scored?” I ask following him to the couch. “Well, Gentry singled to left, and Napoli scored from the Rangers first. But then Suzuki reached on infield single to shortstop, Kennedy and Ryan scored and Saunders to second…” he starts giving me play by play.

My eyes drift back to my wife who is embraced by my parents who are kissing her cheeks and talking to her. My sister sits next to Ethan Kavanagh and they’re holding hands. Ethan jumps in to the conversation. “You did miss a great game, Christian! It was so close. I really thought we would win! Carp homered to right, and Seager scored for the Mariners but it wasn’t enough to catch up! I bet we would have won if Mariners shortstop Brendan Ryan didn’t leave the game in the top of the third inning with neck spasm!” he says excitedly. “Come on! That shit is no biggie!” my brother says. “Of course it is! Andrus and Hamilton of the Rangers hit back-to-back home runs in the third inning, man! We needed him…” When my parents and Anastasia walk back into the great room, Anastasia comes and snuggles next to me with her drink still in her hand. “One sip,” I hiss at her, and take the glass out of her hand. “Yes, Sir,” she says completely submissively while batting her eyelashes and disarms me immediately. I put my arms around her, pulling her into me, and having my family around, turn back to my brother to continue talking about the last Mariner’s game. After everyone has eaten, and the dishes picked up, we send my family, and the Kavanaghs off. My wife needs rest. I hold Anastasia’s hand; walk her back to our bedroom. “My parents think you walk on water,” I mutter as I take my shirt off. She is in bed curled up and watching me, eye-fucking me to my delight. “Good thing you know differently,” she snorts. “Oh, I don’t know,” I say as I pull my jeans off. “Did they fill in the gaps for you?” “Some. I lived with the Colliers for two months while Mom and Dad waited for the paperwork. They were already approved for adoption because of Elliot, but he wait’s required by law to see if I had any living relatives who wanted to claim me.”

“How do you feel about that?” she asks pressing on my earlier concern. I frown. I don’t like it at all. “About having no living relatives? Fuck that. If they were anything like the crack whore…” I say in disgust. I don’t bring the rest of the thought. It’s disturbing enough as it is. I put on my pajamas, climb into bed, and pull my wife into the safety of my arms. “It’s coming back to me. I remember the food. Mrs. Collier could cook. And at least we know why that fucker is so hung up on my family.” Oh, shit! I remember! I remember something else. “Fuck!” I mutter as my hand runs through my hair. I’m gaping at Anastasia in shock. “What?” she asks concerned. “It makes sense now!” I declare. “What?” she asks exasperated. “Baby Bird. Mrs. Collier used to call me Baby Bird.” Anastasia looks at me blankly. “That makes sense?” she asks raising her eyebrows, confused. “The note,” I say gazing at her. “The ransom note that fucker left. It went something like ‘Do you know who I am? Because I know who you are, Baby Bird.’ “ Anastasia still looks back at me with a blank stare. “It’s from a kid’s book. Christ! The Colliers had it. It was called, ‘Are You My Mother?’ Shit! I loved that book,” I say my eyes widening. I remember it now! The memories come flooding. Understanding reaches Anastasia’s eyes. “Mrs. Collier used to read it to me.” Her lips part to say something, and close again, not knowing what to say. “Christ. He knew… That fucker knew!” “Will you tell the police?”

“Yes. Of course, I will. Christ knows what Clark will do with that information,” I shake my head trying to clear my head of the shithead Hyde. “Anyway, thank you for this evening.” “For what?” she asks. “Catering for my family at a moment’s notice.” “Don’t thank me, thank Mia and Mrs. Jones. She keeps the pantry well stocked.” I shake my head. She doesn’t understand how special she is. My wife still has a hard time taking a compliment. “How are you feeling, Mrs. Grey?” “Good. How are you feeling?” she asks me. I’m perfectly healthy. “I’m fine,” I say frowning. Do I look ill? She smiles and starts trailing her fingers down on my stomach and over my happy trail. I grab her hands knowing exactly what she’s trying to do. “Oh no. Don’t get any ideas.” She pouts, making me sigh. I am dying to make love to her. But I can’t when she’s not well enough. “Ana, Ana, Ana, what am I going to do with you?” I ask kissing her hair. “I have some ideas,” she says squirming beside me. But she immediately winces, and holds her ribs automatically with pain. “Baby, you’ve been through enough. Besides, I have a bedtime story for you.” She looks up blinking. “You wanted to know…” I say, my voice trailing off. I swallow uneasily, but still determined to bare my soul for my wife. Her eyes widen understanding. I manage to deem my wife speechless for a change. “Picture this, an adolescent boy looking to earn some extra money so he can continue his secret drinking habit,” I start my story. I turn in bed so I’m on my side and we are lying face to face. I gaze into Anastasia’s eyes, wanting to capture all of her reaction. “So I was in the backyard at the Lincoln’s, clearing some rubble and trash from the extension Mr. Lincoln had just added to their place…”

Anastasia’s jaws drop open, completely shocked that I’m sharing my darkest history with her. But, this is a night for revelations. I want nothing left unsaid between us. She’s my wife, the mother of my unborn child, she is my everything.

Roberto Carlos - Como é Grande o Meu Amor Por Você I have so much To tell you But with words I can't convey How big My love For you is... And there's nothing To compare to it (No way) to Explain to you How big My love For you is... Not even the sky Or the stars Not even the sea Or the infinite Nothing is bigger Than my love Or more beautiful ... I become desperate Seeking Any way To tell you Como é grande How big My love For you is... Don't ever forget even for a second My love is The biggest in the world How big My love For you is...

CHAPTER VI Bedtime Story

Anastasia’s lips part as if her deep inhalation can’t get enough air into her lungs. She’s curious, but also at the precipice of a decision. Is she ready for this? I close my eyes, and swallow hard trying to decide if I want to tell her everything. After what we lived through this week, our lives changed irrevocably, and I want nothing standing between us. Not even the whisper or a ghost of my fucked up past. When I open my eyes back up, Anastasia’s gaze is fixed on me with all its intensity. Memories of that fateful summer come flooding. I take a deep breath and the floodgates open. Bryan Adams - Please Forgive Me

“It was a hot summer day. I was working hard,” I snort remembering. I haven’t done such backbreaking work in such a long time. I shake my head, amused with the thought how hard I worked for that small amount of money. “The work was backbreaking, shifting all that rubble. I was working on my own, and Ele-“ I say remembering. It was Mrs. Lincoln then. “Mrs. Lincoln appeared out of nowhere and brought me some lemonade. We exchanged small talk, and I made some smart-ass remark… and she slapped me. She slapped me so hard,” I say with the ghost of the pain, my hand reaching up to my cheek again, caressing. After slapping me so fucking hard, burning my cheek, she grabbed my face with her hands, but didn’t touch me anywhere else, kissed me ferociously with dominating, intense stroking of her lips. Elena’s kiss was possessing, all-consuming as if she lit me

on fire and let me burn up from within with a fire that was never going to go out. It was a feeling I had never experienced; I never thought I could experience it. She awakened the beast in me. I continue talking about my first experience with Elena. “But then she kissed me. And when she finished, she slapped me again,” I murmur, blinking. To this day, I’m still perplexed about it. I was a troublemaker, unworthy of love, or care. Because I was and still am a beast inside. You see, the single day out of the year I felt comfortable was Halloween. Because that was the only day the ghouls and the monsters in me matched the scenery outside, an ironic day that made me among the norm. Elena’s kiss awakened the hungry monster in me then; a sexually starved beast I never knew existed inside me came to force with full power. And the pain, pain that came along with dark, the ghoulish, scary side in me… pain was familiar, welcome even. “I’d never been kissed before or hit like that,” I confess. I look down to Anastasia. Elena is her hard limit. I don’t know if I should tell her about this, but I want to. I want no barriers between us. No dark spots left hidden. “Do you want to hear this?” I ask. Indecision crosses her face. “Only if you want to tell me,” she says in a small voice, facing me. “I’m trying to give you some context.” She nods, encouraging me to continue then. But Anastasia looks shocked, her eyes are wide, and she’s speechless. I search her face for a trace of disinterest, fear, or any indication that she doesn’t want to hear this. I finally see the encouragement I'm seeking in her face, and roll onto my back staring up at the ceiling. “Well, naturally, I was confused and angry and horny as hell. I mean, a hot older woman comes onto you like that-“ I say shaking my head. Fifteen year old boys, no matter how much the fifteen year old girls think of them being hot and irresistible, aren’t exactly the material older women are looking for. But, I now recognize Elena's initial dominating presence. She wanted someone she could train and completely dominate. I never had a chance of escaping it. Elena first had a sharp intake after my dumb-ass remark, and her stance immediately changed to a dominant one. She pushed her shoulders back, squaring them, her head slightly came forward like an eagle ready to capture a prey. I was unable but to respond to her stance automatically,

because I’ve never seen anything like it before. In fact, I don’t ever remember seeing Elena with that dominating stance in all family gatherings. I hear a controlled intake of breath from Anastasia at my comment on Elena being hot. My observation was retrospect of how I felt about myself, and how insignificant and worthless I thought of myself to be. An intake-charity case; a damaged fatherless shitless kid born from a whore who was on drugs. Beaten by her pimp, starved to the point where I wouldn’t mind eating yard trimmings had I have the opportunity, or a chance to go outside as that insignificant four year old I once was. So, Elena kissing me, this worthless man-child and slapping me to straighten my foulmouthed behavior immediately zeroed in all my interest in her. All of a sudden I was the focus of this hot woman. Confused, interested, horny and for a change, I wanted this experience to continue. I was introduced to a sensation; triggered by Elena's lips on mine, and her forceful slap to jolted me in and out of my body, disciplining me. I craved all of it with such intensity as if all the fifteen year hunger I’ve had for physical touch was about to be sated in the form of a promised feast of sensations with her. Elena's behavior said that she wanted me and her kiss made me want to experience that again and again. Feeling Anastasia’s gaze on me, I continue my story. “She went back into the house, leaving me in the backyard. She acted as if nothing had happened. I was at a total loss. So I went back to work, loading the rubble into the dumpster. When I left that evening, she asked me to come back the next day. She didn’t mention what had happened. So the next day I went back. I couldn’t wait to see her again,” I whisper, finally letting Anastasia into my dark past; feeling like I’m in a confessional, pouring out all my sins to one person who has the power to forgive, and clear the slate for me. I don’t know what Anastasia is thinking, but I can feel the judgment that is passing through her head, towards me but mostly for Elena. “She didn’t touch me when she kissed me,” I murmur and turn to my wife gazing at her, trying to see what she’s thinking. I see her quizzical face directed at me. “You have to understand…my life was hell on earth. I was a walking hard-on, fifteen years old, tall for my age, hormones raging. The girls at school—“ I stop there. Girls thought I was a handsome guy, but I couldn’t let them get near me without freaking out. I was a fucking freak! I couldn’t let the girls or anyone for that matter to touch me. Such a simple, non-thought requiring gesture for many was a trigger for me to go berserk. It’s

not because I wasn’t turned on, or that my hormones weren’t wreaking havoc on my body when it came to the opposite sex. My fear of touch overtook my life, and there was no way of getting rid of it. Anastasia’s face softens with understanding. “I was angry, so fucking angry at everyone, at myself, my folks. I had no friends. My therapist at the time was a total asshole. My folks, they kept me on a tight leash; they didn’t understand,” I utter in one long breath. My gaze flow to the ceiling again, looking but no seeing. My hand runs through my hair in exasperation as if this happened yesterday. Nothing soothed my soul, nothing sated the anger I had in me; not the brawls, not the therapy, not the advice from my parents, or their worries, not restrictions, or limits, and I was one fucking tight ball of negative energy ready to burst anytime. There was nothing that could contain me and not be damaged by me. I was damaged goods! Even breathing took an effort. Everything angered me; I was mad at the universe for having me exist, and be like this. My world was chaotic, bolts of energy charging out of me, uncontrolled, untamed, volatile and violent directing everywhere and everyone. Then Elena came, containing it for me. I realize that Anastasia is unusually still beside me. “I just couldn’t bear anyone to touch me. I couldn’t! Couldn’t bear anyone near me. I used to fight…fuck, did I fight. I got into some god-awful brawls. I was expelled from a couple of schools. But it was a way to let off steam. To tolerate some kind of physical contact,” I say stopping. Fighting served a couple of purposes. It gave me pain when I got hit, and that allowed me to feel… something, anything. And however little or however negative it was, that was means for me to touch without intending, or focusing on the act of touching and be touched even if it was violent. All the stress made me ready to burst at any moment. I search Anastasia’s face. She’s silent, frozen like a statue; her eyes are wide in utter shock. I frown. Am I scaring her? There’s no indication of that. I think she wants me to go on. I turn my back and continue to stare up at the ceiling again. “Well, you get the idea. And when she kissed me, she only grabbed my face. She didn’t touch me,” I say in a barely audible voice. I’m not expecting Anastasia to understand that. Imagine someone giving you food and water after you were starved for fifteen years if it was possible to survive such an ordeal. That was my feeling, and of course being fifteen years old, I took whatever she was willing to give me, do to me or for me, and held onto it like a life raft. I was finally breathing.

Elena was my mother’s friend and she frequented our house often. I had not paid attention to her before although anyone could see that she was a hot attractive woman. I had once caught my mother asking when she was going to have children. Elena said that preferred my mother’s children as opposed to having children of her own. And the irony isn’t lost on me, now. Anastasia folds her hand beneath her pillow and rest her head on the pillow in a way to restrain herself. Why? “Well, the next day I went back to the house, not knowing what to expect. And I’ll spare you the gory details, but there was more of the same. And that’s how our relationship started,” I summarize. But the memory of the second day rushes in unbidden.

When I reached the Lincoln house that day, Elena opened the door, wordlessly let me in, waved away my mother with a delightful smile. Once my mother drove away, she closed the door, looked at her watch, “you’re twelve minutes late,” she said with her gaze icy, chilling me to my core and furious at the same time making her hot like a volcano. I was quite surprised at the contradicting look. “Elena, my mom had…” I said trying to tell her that my mother had me take out the trash and quickly do a couple of chores before I left, but she didn’t let me finish my words, slapping me hard across my cheek and then backhanding me. I can still feel the ringing in my ears with remembrance. “Mrs. Lincoln!” she corrected me firmly and decidedly, then grabbing hold of my head, slightly pulling me down because I was still taller than her. She kissed me savagely, punishingly, brutally in fact, biting the inside of my lower lip, drawing blood. The coppery taste in my mouth was welcome despite the savagery of her act. I was hooked. “I don’t do late! If I asked you to be here at 9:00 a.m. I did NOT imply it to be 9:01, or 8:59 a.m. I meant precisely at 9:00 a.m. You are to be punctual. And you are to do as you are asked. Do you understand me, Christian?” “Ah, yeah,” I remember muttering, confused. “What?” she asked slapping me across my face again. “Y..Y...yes,” I squeaked then. She backhanded me after my slurred speech.

“’Yes, ma’am,’ is the correct answer,” she hissed, her gaze fixed on me. “Yes, ma’am,” I responded looking at her devotedly, Then she pulled my face in and kissed me brutally once again. Once she let go of my swollen lips she rewarded me with a pleased, predatory smile, a smile I tried to earn from thereon. “I need you to come every day this week at the exact time I tell you to come, and you will perform what I ask you to perform,” she said with dual meaning even I, a horny teenager couldn’t miss. “On Wednesday, I have…” I said and she gave me a pointed look, and then slapped me again, making me blink. “Wrong answer. I do not tolerate disobedience.” “Yes, ma’am, I’ll be here,” I managed to respond. “Good. Now, your work is waiting in the backyard,” she said to my confused face, completely impassively. That’s how it all started. Within that week Elena had me quit drinking, cutting class, fighting and gave me the first taste of cane, and my first sexual experience. She made all the decisions for me, and I was only to obey. For the first time in my life, I didn’t have to think how to handle something, someone or a problem. It was already decided for me. All Elena had to tell me was to jump. And if I had her permission to speak, I didn’t even have to ask how high, because Elena would have already specified the height, length, and the duration of that jump already. My chaotic world focused because the chaos was eliminated by her taking full and absolute control over me. Afrojack - Take Over Control

I shift in my place, turning on my side, I look at Anastasia. “And you know something, Ana? My world came into focus. Sharp and clear. Everything. It was exactly what I needed. She was a breath of fresh air. Making the decisions, taking all that shit away from me, letting me breathe.” I can see that it’s painful for Anastasia to hear this; but this is my life, uncensored. This was the person, the man-child I once was; out of control, undisciplined, chaotic, argumentative, disobedient, and detrimental to my own well-being and future. Had my life not found the focus it needed, I don’t know where I would have been without the

correct and right interference for the person I was. It is entirely possible that I may have found that, but maybe along the way I would have caused other damages to myself, and inadvertently to my family until that focus came into my life. There is a time and a place for certain experiences in life… Like the fucking cliché says ‘everything happens for a reason’, and perhaps it was necessary for me to live that at the time however wrong it was. Because I wasn’t getting the right help anywhere else. Nothing was working. I do understand now that Elena had used me for a pupil; sex-slave in training, a boy-toy of a bored trophy wife. She could have still helped me without abusing me. But Elena had her way, and I could never argue with it. Could she have waited until I was old enough to give consent? She could have, but Elena never had qualms about my age. She possessed me, and enjoyed the experience. My last declaration causes a flitter of pain go through Anastasia’s face, but she doesn’t stop me, or argue with me, or tell me she’s disgusted by me. “And even when it was over, my world stayed in focus because of her. And it stayed that way until I met you,” I say, and the shock in Ana’s face is evident as the light of day. I smooth a stray lock of hair behind her ear. I know what she thinking, but her brand of chaos is exactly what I needed after having learned to control, and focus. Because this is in my nature. I want control; I need control like the air I breathe. But I already learned to exercise that. True to my nature, I also need the excitement, the chaos, the challenge Anastasia brings into my life. I didn’t know this was a need until she stumbled through my door.

“You turned my world on its head,” I say closing my eyes, remembering the first feeling of challenge she gave me, drunk dialing. The first night, Ana sleeping in my bed... I couldn’t close my eyes to sleep a wink, because all I wanted to do was to watch her. I immediately felt that this was the woman I needed in my life. It was beyond wanting her. It was raw, primal, irrevocable need. My life found its purpose when I found Anastasia. I look at my wife; she’s pure attention.

“My world was ordered, calm and controlled, then you came into my life with your smart mouth, your innocence, your beauty, and your quiet temerity…and everything before you was just dull, empty, mediocre…it was nothing.” Her face softens; her breathing shallow and her eyes wide as she listens. “I fell in love,” I whisper. I hear her breath hitch, and she stops breathing for a while. I caress her cheek. “So did I,” she murmurs. Her response fills my eyes with love for her brightly. “I know,” I mouth. She takes a deep breath. “You do?” she asks. “Yes,” I confirm. Of course I do. The knowledge of her love is the most welcome and most valuable possession I have in my heart; it means I have my wife’s heart and soul. “Finally,” she whispers as she shyly smiles at me. I nod. “And it’s put everything into perspective for me. When I was younger, Elena was the center of my world. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for her. And she did a lot for me. She stopped my drinking. Made me work hard at school… You know, she gave me a coping mechanism I hadn’t had before, allowed me to experience thing that I never thought I could.” “Touch,” she whispers, still pained. I know this is hard for her to hear. But without Elena’s help, I don’t know where I would be at that time of my life. Because, for the first time in my life, my problems weren’t drowning me and it wasn’t a constant fight to stay afloat to breathe. It was not hard to obey her, because she too was flawed like me and so unlike my perfect family. I was well aware of her dark side starting with the first slap on my face; but in that dark, her commanding voice was the only sound I heard and it guided me, darkening everything else that gave me fear, pulling them into the shades, not erasing or disappearing them but blending them into the darkness so I no longer saw them, and let them affect me until I was able to build layers of protection to shield myself on my own. Elena taught me to conceal and mask all my fears, keeping them at bay and shed my inhibitions, introduced me into a lifestyle that has become my coping mechanism.

I had not thought about or even considered of the wrongs of that relationship until recently. I remember a school break and coming home from Harvard. My mom gathered all family and ‘friends’ to celebrate my homecoming. My brother Elliot thought he was doing me a favor and brought his then girlfriend and her roommate for a possible match for me. The girl was like white over rice on me, trying to get to my good side, and she was cute, I’ll give her that, but I wasn’t in the market for someone. I had Elena; she was all I wanted or needed. And Elena had me, by the balls, literally. She glanced at me coolly during my mother’s dinner. Getting in my arm later, she said, “Christian, dear, I have to hear all about your school,” and walked me by the dock. My parents thought of her an aunt to their children. When we reached to the relative darkness of the dock, she dropped the whole charade and turned around and slapped me so hard. “You have crossed the line by tolerating that bitch. I do not share, Christian. This was intolerable, and you have misbehaved, and deviated from what I expect of you when you were away. I am going to do something about that. When I leave in the next 10 minutes, I want you to get in any car you can, and get to my house precisely fifteen minutes after I'm gone. Mr. Lincoln is away on a business trip,” she said, and in the glimmer of the moonlight, I could see her angry, cold blue eyes, baleful, and full of fury. “When you get there,” she said her hand grasping my cock, and balls squeezing tight until my eyes rolled into the back of my head, and “I want nothing on you, except a cock cage,” she enunciates without elaborating. Elena could come up with the most cruel or unusual punishments. I didn’t know what I was to expect. I don’t even know what excuse I gave my family and left fifteen minutes after she did to make it to her house on time.

The door to her house was open and she was in her all leather domme outfit. I silently went to her dungeon, and stripped my clothes off. Placed my cock into the cock cage which was no easy and neither was it pain free feat considering I had a massive erection with expectation. I had to go through all the microeconomics formulas and equations to

divert my attention from my arousal to contain my cock within the minimal confinement of the cock cage.

Elena walked after me, ordering me to go and stand by the wall decorated with shackles and metal handcuffs. Neither the cuffs nor the shackles were attached to the wall; rather to a free unit which you could turn the sub around and apply punishment both in the front or the back. She was going to beat the shit out of me, knowing she meant to leave her mark all over my body from my wrist, to my cock to my toes. No shorts or t-shirt for me for the next two weeks. She cuffed my ankles first and then the wrists making sure they were extra tight, then pulled the chains to make me spread eagle against the cold stone wall. Despite the punishment I was going to receive, my cock tried to grow. Microeconomics formulas were child’s play for me; I could count them in my sleep. I had to think of something harder. I started reciting the Periodic Table in French in my head. “Tableau Pérodique des éléments,” I started in my head. “Hydrogène, Hélium, Lithium, Béryllium, Bore, Carbone, Azote, Oxygène, Flour, Néon, Magnésium, Aluminium, Silicium, Phosphore, Soufre, Chlore, Argon, Calcium, Scandium, Titane, Vanadium, Chrome….” I could hear Elena choosing an item off the wall for my punishment. I placed my face on the cold stone, and the metal confinement holding my cock, and squeezing my balls were also transferring cold from the stone wall. My mind was briefly occupied thinking what she was going to hit me with. I tried to entertain the idea that was something easy like a paddle or a riding crop, but Elena was brutal with her punishments. I knew she would choose something like a whip, flogger, wet leather belt, or a cane… She tested the air behind me and I heard the multiple strands flying behind me, thinking, “fuck! It’s the cat of nine tails!” and they hurt like hell, even digging into the skin, removing it, leaving

multiple welted marks all at the same time. Even the French periodic table isn’t enough to get my mind distanced from the punishment, though I could normally handle a shit load of beating. But this time she wasn’t holding anything back.

In order to cope with the pain, I started counting the periodic table with atomic weights and numbers, all in French. “Hydrogène…” breathe deep, and hold, “nombre atomique: un. Groupe: un. Période: un. Configuration électronique: 1s1. Nombre d’oxydation: -1 + 1.Électronégativité: 2.2… “ Then I felt the tendrils of the cat land across my back my arms, and my buttocks and I even felt the warm oozing of blood on my mid back. One of the tendrils reached my caged cock as her blows started raining strategically. My balls must be purple by then, but I just wanted to get through the fucking punishment! I didn’t know how many of them I received raining down on me systematically starting with my back and arms, then going down to my buttocks and legs after cross welting my back over my shoulders and back again until I reached to a point where I wanted to safe-word her, but fearing of disappointing her, I didn’t. I wanted to float out of my body, go to a pain free place where my legs didn’t tremble, my arms didn’t shake, my face wasn’t screwed shut tight in pain and where I didn’t have to recite the fucking periodic table in French! But no such luck was possible because in order to cope with pain, I squeezed my hands – the only part of my body I could move - so tightly that my nails were digging into my palms and drawing blood all unconsciously! That wasn’t the first time Elena exerted her dominance over me spectacularly, forcefully and undoubtedly, and neither was it the last time, but that was the first time she brought me only a hair away from my breaking point, and yet I still couldn’t say no, stop, or ‘red’

to her. I wanted her to punish me for existing. Not for a dumb girl who showed interest in me in Elena’s presence. But, for being here, on earth. Punish the unworthy, unlovable, unimportant; fill the void in me with so much pain that I didn’t have to think that fucking desperate hole in my soul that was sucking the life out of me. But it was also my turning point in realizing that what I got from Elena was a way to cope with this hole, the feeling of worthlessness, and not love. Because she allowed me to experience human touch; a woman's touch with intense pleasure and morbid pain. But, more than that, on that day, she turned me around still shackled, cuffed and stretched out, put my punished back to the wall, making the warm blood dry against the cold stone, and used a cane to welt and excite me by whipping my front side. Despite the pain, my body responded, and my cock turned blue and purple trying hard for an erection, not fitting into the confinement. After having been satisfied with the beating she delivered, Elena unlocked the cock cage, and proceeded to suck me.

"You are not allowed to come! You must hold it in; if you can't, I will make sure that your punishment will keep your off your tight ass for an entire month!" she said with her predatory smile. Once she was done sucking me, making my cock throb for a release, she let go of me. She unlocked my shackles and cuffs and I nearly sagged to the wall behind me, but I didn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me nearly break down. “Now, fuck me for my pleasure only!” she ordered leaning back onto the punishment bench, and I thrusted hard into her, reciting the Tableau Pérodique des éléments backwards until she screamed her release, leaving my cock bruised, and dangerously desperate for release. But the pain of unreleased load inside me hurt me like hell all the way to my toes, yet somehow something cleared in my head. I could control me. I could

control pain, I could take a very hard punishment fuck, and still come out okay. I knew then I was finally in control of my life, of my world, and everything in it. I could be a dominant. I could be okay. I finally broke the wall of fear. I had none. That is not until Anastasia got into my life. I look at my wife’s face. “Touch,” she said. Yes, I had learned to experience touch with Elena, but I learned to live my life with Anastasia. I nod at her. “After a fashion,” I say without elaborating, I frown, trying to chase away the memory. I look at my wife with fear. There is dark in my past. Dark I had to learn to deal with, dark I had to walk through to get to the light. Darkness that consumed me, consumed my life, and everything I did, then my sun rose, and chased away the shadows. And my sun is currently looking at me pleading for more. “If you grow up with a wholly negative self-image, thinking you’re some kind of reject, an unlovable savage, you think you deserve to be beaten.” I know it well; and I’ve taken a lot of punishment, beating, and I welcomed the feeling. Welcomed it! Desired it, wanted it! Because that was my norm. That’s all I knew. I pause and run a hand through my hair. “Ana, it’s much easier to wear your pain on the outside...” I say, confessing. By wearing it outside, it matched the torment I was going through inside. It gave me a morbid sense of normalcy. Elena didn’t hold anything back with her punishments and she didn’t take any shit from me. But, her methods of control, however brutal they showed me how to channel my anger at the intensity I was feeling them. Somehow she always knew, and held nothing back in its release and collected her own dues in blood, skin, flesh, blue balls... Nothing was off limits except the no-go zone with hands. The only time she broke that rule, I stopped being her sub. I was strong, controlled, and mastered the art of channeling my demons and storms inside my soul. I was a pupil no longer. “She channeled my anger,” I mutter as my mouth thins into a bleak line. “Mostly inward – I realize now. Dr. Flynn’s been on and on about this for some time. I was only recently that I saw our relationship for what it was. You know... on my birthday.” I had a suspicion that I wasn’t the only sub Elena had. Clearly I was in Harvard and it would take me 3 or 4 weeks to see her between visits, and she had the need to dominate, exert pain, and to fuck – not that she stopped dominating me even if I was across the country. I had suspected that she had other distractions besides me, but I was her favorite boy toy since I was the best, darkest, and most intense. She liked controlling me; breaking into the unbreakable stallion. I think she continually wanted to exert her

dominance over me even after the sex between us was over. She managed to top from the bottom, I now realize. That became clear on my birthday when she lost it completely and confronted Anastasia. Without having any control over her own behavior, in my parents’ home for fuck’s sake, not caring who would hear her, and clearly my mother has heard her, Elena had shown both to me and to Anastasia that she wanted to continue dominating me. When Anastasia and I were engaged, Elena realized that she was going to lose any hope of controlling me knowing that Anastasia hated her with a passion and my girl was someone Elena couldn’t control, and she in return couldn't control me through her. She panicked knowing I was in love with Anastasia and her hopes to get to dominate me once again would be ended, and our horrendous fight ensued. But I didn’t realize this until very recently, until I thought it through. I was Elena's longest male relationship. Longer than what she had with her husband, and she got to dominate me for five years of that relationship. She knows that no other woman had done that to me, except her. I am one of the wealthiest, able mind and body, and strongest men on earth. By GQ and People Magazine’s standards apparently I’m one of the sexiest men alive. Clearly, having played a major role in shaping me, Elena doesn’t like to lose me to someone she can’t dominate; someone who will most definitely cut her access to me. In a way, I submit to my wife, voluntarily. That’s got to be killing her. Because Elena is nothing if not competitive, and possessive. But I am a bigger dominant than she is, and I protect what is mine, and those I love fiercely. Elena is a done deal; a phase that needed to happen, but all in the past. A visible shudder goes through Anastasia’s body, no doubt with the mention of Elena on my birthday, bringing forth the ugly memories into the forefront of her mind. I want all of that erased. “For her side of our relationship was about sex and control and a lonely woman finding some kind of comfort with her boy toy.” “But you like control,” she whispers correctly assessing her husband. “Yes. I do. I always will, Ana. It’s who I am. I surrendered it for a brief while. Let someone make all my decisions for me. I couldn’t do it myself – I wasn’t in a fit state. But through my submission to her, I found myself and found the strength to take charge of my life.. Take control and make my own decisions.” “Become a Dom?” she asks wondering whether it was my decision.

“Yes.” “Your decision?” “Yes.”

“Dropping out of Harvard?” “My decision, and it was the best decision I ever made. Until I met you,” I say and her face wears an expression of awe. “Me?” she asks having a hard time believing. “Yes,” I whisper as my lips quirk up in a smile. “The best decision I ever made was marrying you.” “Not starting your company?” I shake my head without breaking my gaze. “Not learning to fly?” I shake my head again. “You,” I mouth. Undoubtedly, my best decision. I found half of my heart which was missing all along. A lot of people go through life without finding their other half, and it’s unfortunate because until that happens, they’re aimless not realizing they’re settling for second or third or fifteenth or hundred and fiftieth best. And yet, I found her, and I fell madly and irrevocably in love with her. Elena knew that before I had a name for my feelings. “She knew,” I whisper. Anastasia doesn’t understand. She frowns. “She knew what?” “That I was head over heels in love with you. She encouraged me to go down to Georgia to see you, and I’m glad she did. She thought you’d freak out and leave. Which you did.” Elena perhaps thought that once Ana was out of my life, I’d get another sub, and move on until she and I resumed a sexual relationship. Her intent only became evident in her very controlled, very well-rehearsed mind -- which didn’t let any stray

thought out -- on my birthday because of her panic in hearing our decision to get married; her thought of losing me to her inferior in Elena's mind. Yet, Anastasia is superior to any other woman I know. And in Ana's absence after she left me, I realized a lot things: I was in love with the love of my life madly, irrevocably, insanely, completely and soul shatteringly. I couldn’t live without her and I would do anything to get her back into my life. Anything it took! I have never, ever felt this way for anyone at all. Not for Elena, not for any sub I fucked, not anyone else I have encountered. Anastasia has become the sole focus of my life; suddenly becoming the most important individual, because on a deeper level, I knew that her soul called out to me. Having Ana in my life has been essential to my well-being and my sanity. It would kill me if she was with anyone else. And since most my time have been consumed just with thinking about her; she became the sole woman who made me feel safe, centered my universe, making my heart and soul complete, and finally made me normal within Christian Grey standards. Anastasia pales; clearly displeased knowing that Elena has had so much interference even though she didn’t let it out and has done it most covertly. “She thought I needed all the trappings of the lifestyle I enjoyed.” “The Dom?” Ana whispers. I nod. “It enabled me to keep everyone at arm’s length, gave me control, and kept me detached, or so I thought. I’m sure you’ve worked out why,” I add softly. “Your birth mom?” “I didn’t want to be hurt again. And then you left me. And I was a mess,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. I wanted to hurt and punish myself when she was gone. I wanted my outside match with the pain and torment I felt inside. I spiraled out of control, because Anastasia took the center of my universe away, and left me aimless, purposeless. My birth mom died on me. Not that she was good mom, but she was a mom. She just checked out of life, took the easy way out instead of facing her problems. And Ana… She left me instead of confronting me. Anastasia leaving me that morning was the third worse incident of my life. The first one was finding her nearly dead, and second was talking to her on the phone at the bank when she told me she was leaving me, after having her as my wife, making me think that she was leaving me, not just by herself but with a part of me in the form of our child.

“I’ve avoided intimacy so long – I don’t know how to do this,” I whisper. I’m going to make spectacular mistakes. I don’t want her to run away from me every time I screw up. And part of the reason I didn’t tell her everything about me was because of this fear… that she would leave me. Leaving me is the logical thing to do. I’m bad, worthless, rotten to the core, and she’s good. It’s doesn’t add up. Elena was different, because I didn’t have to worry about losing her. She was dark, and bad like me. I could understand that. What I had difficulty of understanding was that all these good people loved me and I tried to keep them at arm’s length, because deep down I knew I was unworthy of them. Yet their love was given to me freely, a gift. I didn’t understand that until I nearly lost my wife. “You’re doing fine,” Anastasia murmurs, encouraging me. She traces my lips with her index finger, and I pucker my lips to kiss it.

“Do you miss it?” she whispers hesitantly. “Miss it?” “That lifestyle.” “Yes, I do,” I reply with another confession. Her face falls. I don’t want Anastasia to think that she can’t be enough for my needs. I want her to realize that this is what I have known, what gave me control, and what made me who I am to a certain degree. But,

what Ana gives me is far more than that. I want her to understand this is what I miss about it, and not who I miss. “But only insofar as I miss the control it brings. And frankly, your stupid stunt—“ I say losing my breath, I stop with the pain the memory brings, “that saved my sister,” I whisper, completely awed by her act for me and my family because she loves me, though I still don’t know why after having behaved horribly towards her. She put her life in the line, and the life of our baby – a baby she and I argued about only two nights before. “That’s how I know,” I whisper. “Know?” “Really know that you love me.” She frowns. “You do.” “Yes. Because you risked so much … for me, for my family.” I was ready to love her all my life even if she didn’t love me, or even if I didn’t completely understand her affection towards me. I thought loving her was enough. I have heard her say that she loves me countless times, but still having these dark secrets, I felt that she couldn’t possibly love me, this man I loathe if she truly knew everything about me. Yet, she surprises me at every corner. She loves me regardless of my flaws, and fuckeduppedness, knowing my deepest darkest secrets. Anastasia’s frown deepens and the usual V, I’ve come to love forms between her eyebrows. “You have a V here when you frown. It’s very soft to kiss. I can behave so badly… and yet you’re still here,” I murmur. Awed at my wife. “Why are you surprised I’m still here? I told you I wasn’t going to leave you.” “Because of the way that I behaved when you told me you were pregnant,” I say running my finger down her cheek. “You were right. I am an adolescent. Anastasia’s eyes widen, remembering. “Christian, I said some awful things,” she says trying to take back her words. But I put my index finger over her lips and silence her softly.

“Hush. I deserved to hear them. Besides this is my bedtime story,” I murmur and roll onto my back again. “When you told me you were pregnant—“ I say addressing my wife, but also invoking the tiniest member of my family, blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh, I stop. “I’d thought it would be just you and me for a while. I’d considered children, but only in the abstract. I had this vague idea we’d have a child sometime in the future.” Her eyes widen with another hidden desire, but I don’t probe it. Because there are things Anastasia wants to do, and goals she wants to reach. I have seen her fervent desire in London when we visited the Austen house. She devoured the information. She wants to discover the future Austens and Brontes. “Well, you pulled the rug from under me. Christ, was that unexpected. Never in a million years, when I asked you what was wrong, did I expect you to be pregnant,” I say sighing. I remember the raging, boiling anger, overtaking me, and making lose control. “I was so mad. Mad at you. Mad at myself. Mad at everyone. And it took me back, that feeling of nothing being in my control. I had to get out. I went to see Flynn, but he was at some school parents’ evening.” I pause and arch my eyebrow. Even Flynn let me be on my own in water, half drowning, and expected me to pick myself up, and grow. In hindsight, it was what I needed. “Ironic,” Anastasia whispers, and I smirk. Indeed. Then I start recounting the aftermath. “So I walked and walked and walked and I just…found myself at the salon. Elena was leaving. She was surprised to see me. And, truth be told, I was surprised to find myself there. She could tell I was mad and asked me if I wanted a drink.” It’s now or never. I have to get rid of my demons, exorcise them. I want to feel fresh; not this heavy load pulling my shoulders down. Ana’s lips part, her chest rises up and down in rapid succession. I don’t want to upset her, but I need to get this out. “We went to a quiet bar I know and I had a bottle of wine. She apologized for the way she behaved the last time she saw us. She’s hurt that my mom will have nothing to do with her any more – it’s narrowed her social circle – but she understands. We talked about business, which is doing fine, in spite of the recession…” Now, I get to the real point Anastasia is curious about. “I mentioned that you wanted kids.”

My wife’s face is shocked. This is not what she expected. She blinks and frowns. “I thought you let her know I was pregnant.” I know she thought that, but I would never betray Ana that way, even if I was extremely mad as I was then. “No, I didn’t.” “Why didn’t you tell me that?” she asks, completely surprised. Did my wife hit her head harder than I assumed? She never gave me the chance. We had a fight and she put me through the silent treatment, and moved out of our room, breaking my heart, and scaring the hell out of me. I simply shrug. “I never got the chance.” “Yes, you did.” “I couldn’t find you the next morning, Ana. And when I did, you were so mad at me…” I say sighing. I thought she hated me, and she would be well within her rights if she did, but I needed her desperately. “I was,” she finally murmurs. “Anyway, at some point in the evening – about halfway through the second bottle – she leaned over to touch me. And I froze,” I whisper, throwing my arm over my eyes with the renewed disgust and apprehension. I can’t divulge more into it, but Ana needs to know. “She saw that I recoiled from her. It shocked both of us,” I confess. I had allowed Elena to kiss my cheek before, and she could touch my arms which did not create any negative reaction from me. But I had always assumed that it didn’t have the sexual connotation she meant that night. Even in my drunken stupor I knew the difference. My body at so many levels knew that Elena wasn’t what I wanted or needed. After her initial shock, Anastasia tugs my arms, wanting me to look at her. I lower my arm, and turn my gaze into her wide blues. I must look like ghost with blood drawn. My eyes are wide, and I’m scared of Ana’s reaction. “What?” she breathes her horror. I frown and my throat works on a swallow. Hard.

“She made a pass at me,” I whisper, still shocked at one level. Had I allowed myself to think that Elena would never do anything to regain me back into her life as a sexual partner? How could I be so stupid for something that was so evident like the nose on my face. “It was a moment, suspended in time. She saw my expression, and she realized how far she’d crossed the line. I said…no. I haven’t thought of her like that for years and besides,” I say swallowing again… “I love you. I told her that, I love my wife.” Anastasia’s gaze is firmly fixed on my face, searching. The truth in what I say? Or to see if there’s more to the story. But she’s searching… “She backed right off. Apologized again, made it seem like a joke. I mean, she said she’s happy with Isaac and with the business and she doesn’t bear either of us any ill will. She said she missed my friendship, but she could see that my life was with you now. And how awkward that was, given what happened last time we were all in the same room. I couldn’t have agreed with her more. We said our goodbyes, our final goodbyes. I said I wouldn’t see her again, and she went on her way.” I summarize it as clean as I can, but completely truthfully. Anastasia’s nostrils flare, and she’s deep in thought for a moment. There’s fear and anxiety in her face. “Did you kiss?” she whispers her question. “No!” I snort my answer. “I couldn’t bear to be that close to her.” When will she understand that she is my life. She, Anastasia alone. “I was miserable. I wanted to come home to you. But… I knew I’d behaved badly. I stayed and finished the bottle, then started on the bourbon. While I was drinking, I remember you saying to me some time ago, ‘if that was my son…’ And I got to thinking about Junior and about how Elena and I started. And it made me feel… uncomfortable. I’d never thought of it like that before.” I don’t tell her about my nightmare where Elena had her hand over our son. That’s too hard for me to think about. I don’t want to upset her. “That’s it?” “Pretty much.” “Oh.”

“Oh?” leave it to my wife to simplify and understate something. “It’s over?” “Yes. It’s been over since I laid eyes on you. I finally realized it that night and so did she.” “I’m sorry,” she mutters. What is she sorry about? I frown and ask. “What for?” “Being so angry the next day.” I snort again. I have written the book on angry. I deal with angry. “Baby, I understand angry,” I say pausing. “You see, Ana, I want you to myself. I don’t want to share you. What we have, I’ve never had before. I want to be the center of your universe, for a while at least.” “You are. That’s not going to change!” she utters fervently believing in her statement. That’s not true. She’s been an only child. I know how other things, careers, children take precedence over even the love of your life at times. That’s why most people have problems in their relationships, because they let other things take over their lives gradually. I feared losing her, and maybe falling into the trap of that complacency. I didn’t want that future to be inevitable as such. I got scared! I smile sadly, resigned to our fate. I will never leave her even if she loves another person more than she loves me. “Ana,” I whisper, my voice aged. “That’s just not true.” Her lips quiver, and her eyes shine with unshed tears. “How can it be?” I murmur and the dams burst. “Shit! Don’t cry, Ana. Please, don’t cry.” I caress her face. “I’m sorry,” she says with trembling lips. I brush my thumb over it, soothing her. “No, Ana, no. Don’t be sorry. You’ll have someone else to love as well. And you’re right. That’s how it should be.”

“Blip will love you, too. You’ll be the center of Blip’s – Junior’s world,” she whispers. “Children love their parents unconditionally, Christian. That’s how they come into the world. Programmed to love. All babies… even you. Think about that children’s book you liked when you were small. You still wanted your mom. You loved her.” My brows furrow, I withdraw my hand, and fist it against my chin. “No,” I whisper. No, I didn’t love the whore. She didn’t love me! She allowed some douche bag to abuse me. She did nothing, not a damn thing to stop! And when the going got though, she checked out! I don’t love her! “Yes. You did,” she insists crying. “Of course you did. It wasn’t an option. That’s why you’re so hurt.” I gaze at her, unable, and afraid to look elsewhere. If I do, the horrendous memories will flood. “Goodbye Christian,” were her last words. Not, ‘goodnight!’ Goodbye. She knew she was leaving me alone in the world. She knew! She hurt me by not protecting me, by leaving me! By being the shittiest mother! I’m afraid to love her… What does that make me? I continue staring at my wife with a raw, pained expression. “That’s why you’re able to love me,” she murmurs. “Forgive her. She had her own world of pain to deal with. She was a shitty mother, and you loved her.” She did have her wretched life to deal with. She had no control over her life either. Someone else made the decisions for her, but all the wrong decisions, and all the detrimental choices. Men… endless number of them. And the fucking pimp! I have this urge to find the fucker and make him pay for what he did to her. For destroying every shred of humanity in her so thoroughly that she couldn’t find a way out, except to kill herself before her four year old child. She was a bad mother. But she did a couple of things I loved. She baked me a birthday cake. Chocolate. I felt special, and cherished. Then she would let me comb her beautiful hair. Just the two of us. No one else bothering. A rare moment of joy. “I used to brush her hair. She was pretty,” I whisper. “One look at you and no one would doubt that.” “She was a shitty mother,” I whisper, and even I have a hard time hearing my voice.

She nods in agreement, and I close my eyes, the pain is raw. I’m the son of a crack whore who was a shitty mother. A horrible one who didn’t have the capability to protect her own child. I’ve been told of mothers in the middle of African desert where I send food shipments. Women having nothing to wear, nowhere to sleep, nothing to eat, and they fiercely protect their children in worse conditions. And yet, my own damn mother didn’t do that for me! Don’t they say that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree? “I’m scared I’ll be a shitty father,” I whisper. Then it’ll be someone else’s life I’ll be fucking over. Ana’s hand gently reaches to my face, and she strokes in. I find myself leaning into her touch, fill me with warmth, and center me here and now. “Christian, do you think for one moment I’d let you be a shitty father?” Her determined voice is what makes me open my eyes. I gaze at her for an eternity. My wife is my rock. This little girl can kick my ass with two words. I smile, and feel relief for the first time. “No, I don’t think you would,” I say caressing her face with the back of my knuckles. What did I do to deserve her, deserve her love? My wife is the strongest person I know. She’d kick my ass, and Elena’s all in the same day – two strong dominants, and raise a child fearlessly on top of that. I am in awe of her, of her strength. “God, you’re strong, Mrs. Grey. I love you so much.” I kiss her forehead. “I didn’t know I could.” How can I love someone more and more each day? But she manages to surprise me at every corner. “Oh, Christian,” she whispers. “Now, that’s the end of your bedtime story.” “That’s some bedtime story…” she murmurs. I smile at her remark, completely relieved having left the darkness behind me. “How’s your head?” “My head?” “Does it hurt?”

“No,” she replies, confused. “Good. I think you should sleep now.” She frowns, unwilling. “Sleep. You need it,” I command sternly. She pouts. “I have one question.” “Oh? What?” I ask, wary again. “Why have you suddenly become all… forthcoming, for want of a better word?” I frown, thinking. “You’re telling me all this, when getting information out of you is normally a pretty harrowing and trying experience.” “Is it?” I ask in response, knowing full well that I’m not one to divulge information. “You know it is.” “Why am I being forthcoming? I can’t say. Seeing you practically dead on the cold concrete, maybe. The fact I’m going to be a father. I don’t know. You said you wanted to know, and I don’t want Elena to come between us. She can’t. She’s the past, and I’ve said that to you many times. You’re my present and my future.” “If she hadn’t made a pass at you… would you still be friends?” “That’s more than one question,” I say evasively. “Sorry. You don’t have to tell me,” she murmurs flushing embarrassed. “You’ve already volunteered more than I ever thought you would.” My gaze softens. I sigh. “No, I don’t think so, but she’s felt like unfinished business since my birthday. She stepped over the line, and I’m done. Please, believe me. I’m not going to see her again. You said she’s a hard limit for you. That’s a term I understand,” I utter most sincerely. Anastasia lets out a soft sigh of breath.

“Goodnight, Christian. Thank you for the enlightening bedtime story.” I lean down and kiss her, and her lips take over mine possessively, lighting up the fireworks, and my blood is singing my body. “Don’t,” I whisper. “I’m desperate to make love to you.” “Then do.” “No, you need to rest, and it’s late. Go to sleep,” I say turning off the side table lamp. “I love you unconditionally, Christian,” she murmurs as she cuddles into my side. “I know,” I whisper, smiling shyly. “But I love you more.” Lullaby – Dixie Chix

A Last Confession What lively lad most pleasured me Of all that with me lay?

I answer that I gave my soul And loved in misery,

But had great pleasure with a lad

That I loved bodily. Flinging from his arms I laughed To think his passion such He fancied that I gave a soul Did but our bodies touch,

And laughed upon his breast to think Beast gave beast as much.

I gave what other women gave That stepped out of their clothes. But when this soul, its body off, Naked to naked goes,

He it has found shall find therein What none other knows,

And give his own and take his own And rule in his own right; And though it loved in misery Close and cling so tight,

There's not a bird of day that dare Extinguish that delight. William Butler Yeats

BOOK IV CHAPTER VII How Sweet it is to be Loved by You

I wake up with the first light of the day. I can never oversleep even if I had an exhausting week. Sunday had passed with resting and a few phone calls from Welch. I only want Anastasia to recover, so I’m not going to allow anything - work or otherwise to get in the way of her healing. But, yesterday she insisted that she wanted to go see her dad at the hospital. I gave into it, and the only outing we made was to the hospital to see Ray. But, to my surprise, she didn’t tell him that she’s pregnant. Why? I won’t dwell on it for the time being, however it left a question mark in my head. I come in to the kitchen in my pajamas and Mrs. Jones is already bustling for the day.

“Good morning, Mr. Grey. Breakfast sir?” she says looking up at me not surprised to see me not going to work today. “Yes, Mrs. Jones. Omelet, some fruits and a cup of coffee, please.” “Yes, sir,” she replies and eyes Taylor who is fidgeting in his place at the entry to my surprise. I’m not surprised that he’s standing in his usual spot, but that he’s fidgeting. Taylor never fidgets. I’m immediately pure attention, my face taut. “Taylor?” I ask with a quizzical eye, my brow lifting. “May I have a word with you sir?” he asks. “Yes,” I reply still confused, and direct him to my office. On our way to the office, Sawyer and Ryan see Taylor’s nervous walk, and my confused face. They give each other a concerned look. What the hell is wrong? I walk into my office, and Taylor closes the door behind us. I walk around my desk, and take my seat. I look at the desk first where I fucked my wife which feels like a long time ago, and then lift my gaze up to the head of my security who looks like he swallowed a frog and trying to regurgitate it by force if necessary. Clearly he wants to say something, but the words don’t seem to find him. I nervously tap on my desk waiting for him to speak. He clears his throat but the frog he wants to get rid of won’t let him speak. “What is it? Is it about Hyde?” “No, sir.” “The security you’ve assigned to Ana’s dad? Is he doing his job alright?” “I spoke to the two guys who are watching Mr. Steele. He’s doing good job and being very stealthy; so no, it’s not about Mr. Steele’s security either. “Did Welch find out who paid Hyde’s bail?” I ask getting impatient. “Haven’t heard from him. So, I guess not yet,” he replies absently. Taylor doesn’t do absent. This must be personal. “Is your daughter and ex-wife okay?” genuinely concerned for him.

“Sophie’s is wonderful, and the caddy bitch is still flying on her broom. At least that’s the way she sounded when I talked to her this morning, so I’m guessing she’s okay too,” he replies. “Taylor! You’re making me nervous, and you know I don’t do nervous, especially not after last week. Spit it out man! What is it? Are you leaving us?” I ask crossing my arms. I wouldn’t blame him if he was after last week’s stress, but I would do everything to keep Taylor employed with me. He’s the best employee I got, and with what we went through together all week, I allowed myself to think he’s as close to a friend I have as possible. That would be a great loss for me. Maybe not for him.

“Leaving?” he asks, completely confused. “No, no, of course not. It’s… I don’t know how to put this in words. Just a little dazed.” “Are you well?” “Yes, I think so, sir, I am,” he replies and he wrings his hands like Ana does when she’s nervous. I narrow my eyes to see what the deal is my right hand man. I remember Mrs. Jones giving him a look. Is Gail pregnant, too? “Taylor! Is Gail alright?” “Yes, and it’s about her… and me. I, uhm…” he says smiling, “I asked Gail to marry me, and she accepted. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m still in a shock that

she said yes, considering I’ve asked her for nearly the last four years,” he says astounded. And I thought Ana took too long making me wait a week for her answer. Gail tortured him for four years! Damn! I grin immediately. “Congratulations, Taylor!” I stand up and shake his hand. “I’m very happy for you both! But does this mean Gail won’t be working for us? Mrs. Grey and I would love her to continue working here. She’s become part of the family. I couldn’t think of someone else taking her place.” “Oh, no. She wants to continue working,” he says and something crosses his face, a dislike of the idea of someone else at home here, in her place. I suppose it’s better for him to be close to her considering I require his presence in Escala 24/7. It would be too hard for marriage. I also hate change. Both Anastasia and I are very fond of Gail. Getting someone in the midst of our growing family would be hard. But, this is a decision they both have to make. Anastasia likes to work, but if it was up to me, I’d rather have her at home. “Do you want her to continue working here?” I ask.

“Of course, sir. Gail loves working for you and Mrs. Grey. And of course she’s completely stoked about the baby. I don’t think she’d want to leave Mrs. Grey in someone else’s care. I agree and support her in her decision.” “Well then, when is the happy day?” “I don’t know yet, sir. If Gail were to agree, I’d say this afternoon, but we don’t have a date yet. But I do know that we’d like it to be before moving into the new house as well as before your baby is born," he says, and making us a priority in their personal affairs would not have made my radar in the past since I pay him amply, but I find myself more attuned to his kind gesture. After what he had done last week, I'm in his debt. “Let me know what you need. Your wedding and honeymoon will be a gift from Mrs. Grey and me, and once you determine the dates, I’ll make sure the jet is available for you to utilize for your honeymoon. I’ll let Andrea to have accounting allocate a budget for your use, and I'll e-mail you the details once it's available,” I say. “Mr. Grey, that’s…” he says shaking his head unbelieving, “that’s extremely generous of you both. I…uhm…” for once my right hand man is lost for words. “Thank you!” he says finally, and leaves the room without another word, more dazed than he already

was. I shake my head, smiling, and happy. When I get to the kitchen, my breakfast is ready. Gail takes my omelet from the warming drawer and pours my coffee. “Congratulations Gail,” I say finding Mrs. Jones somehow inappropriate since she will soon become Mrs. Taylor. She smiles shyly, and her that smile is completely blissful. “Thank you, Mr. Grey,” she replies. “I’m very pleased to hear that we won’t lose you after you become Mrs. Taylor." “I love working and looking after Mrs. Grey and you, sir. I’m very much looking forward for the baby’s arrival, as well. I couldn’t let someone else to look after Mrs. Grey and the baby when the time comes,” she says smiling, but realizes that I might still have some apprehension over the baby, she quiets down, nodding her head, and returns to her work in the kitchen. I turn my head around after hearing the clicks of Ana’s high heels. Her sexy appearance stops my forkful of omelet in midair. There I find my wife in an indecently short black skirt, and her white silk blouse with frills. Her black Louboutin pumps are lined with her stockings. She’s wearing light make up, the vibrant blue of her eyes are rimmed with mascara, her full lips are glistening with lip gloss, and her hair is loose hanging down on her back. Seeing her all hot, but dressed to go to work makes me frown.

“Good morning, Mrs. Grey. Going somewhere?”

“Work,” she replies simply, smiling. She must be trying to be amusing. I snort with her ridiculous reply. “I don’t think so. Dr. Singh said a week off.” “Christian, I’m not spending the day lounging in bed on my own. So I may as well go to work. Good morning, Gail,” she says, and Mrs. Jones looks amused, trying to hide her smile. “Mrs. Grey. Would you like some breakfast?” she asks. “Please.” “Granola?” “I’d prefer scrambled eggs with whole wheat toast.” What the hell did she ask? Did my wife just volunteered to eat a hearty meal? My jaw must have dropped, because Mrs. Jones is now grinning widely. “Very good, Mrs. Grey,” she replies Ana. “Ana, you are not going to work,” I say as firmly as I can, getting back to my original argument. “But…” she tries to retort. “Nope. It’s simple. Don’t argue with me,” I say adamantly giving her a stern look. Anastasia tries to glare at me, but when she registers what I’m wearing, this time it’s her turn to be surprised. I’m still in my pajama bottoms, and my t-shirt from the night before. “Are you going to work?” she quizzes. “No,” I reply simply. Anastasia looks around for a clue, confused. “It is Monday, isn’t it?” I smile at her perplexity. “Last time I looked.” “Are you playing hooky?” she asks narrowing her eyes.

“I’m not leaving you here on your own to get into trouble. And Dr. Singh said it would be a week before you could go back to work. Remember?” So, I too am off a week with my wife. I left her for one day, and she nearly got killed. I’m not doing that again. Anastasia sits next to me on the bar stool, and as she sits, she makes sure that her short skirt is pushed up on her leg. Oh, my wife is frisky. Mrs. Jones places her Twinings tea before her. “You look good,” I say, and she crosses her legs hitching her skirt even further up. Damn! She’s trying to push my limits. “Very good. Especially here,” I say noticing that she’s not wearing full stockings, but thigh highs, and my finger traces the bare flesh right above her stockings and below her skirt line. “This skirt is very short,” I murmur, pleased, but still don’t want other men ogle my wife. “Is it? I hadn’t noticed,” she responds coyly. My wife’s attempt to be coy makes me suppress a smile as I gaze at her, but her repeated tries to entice me to have sex with her in her bruised up state when God knows I’m desperate to make love to her as well as her attempt to go to work exasperate me. “Really, Mrs. Grey?” I ask raising my eyebrows. She blushes in response. “I’m not sure this look is suitable for the workplace,” I murmur. “Well,” she drawls on the word, “since I’m not going to work, that a moot point.” “Moot?” I ask when she feeds me one of my favorite words back. “Moot,” she mouths, making me smirk, I resume eating my omelet. “I have a better idea.” “You do?” Yes, I certainly do. I have plans to keep her busy today. I glance at her my eyes darkening. “We can go see how Elliot’s getting on with the house.” “I’d love to,” she replies with the prospect of an outing.

“Good,” I say grinning. “Don’t you have to work?” she asks as an afterthought. “No. Ros is back from Taiwan. That all went well. Today, everything’s fine,” I say. It’s a good day. It’s a Beautiful Day – U2 “I thought you were going to Taiwan,” she says accusingly. Why would I do that when my world was falling apart back home? I snort in response. “Ana, you were in the hospital.” “Oh.” “Yeah—oh. So today I’m spending some quality time with my wife,” I say. Taking a sip of my coffee, I smack my lips together. Simple comfort. “Quality time?” Anastasia asks her eyes are wide, hopeful for a different kind of quality. Her hopeful demeanor doesn’t even escape Mrs. Jones which I casually disregard. She smiles at Anastasia’s remark as she places a plateful of scrambled eggs before her. I can’t help but smirk. “Quality time,” I confirm, nodding. Her eggs smell delicious, and before she can utter another word, she turns to her food and closing her eyes she inhales deeply and then dives into the eggs with such an appetite, you would think she just came out of a famine. I just love watching her eat. “It’s good to see you eat,” I murmur. Then I stand up from my seat and lean down to kiss her hair. “I’m going to shower,” I tell her. Her eyes widen with renewed hope. Turning to me with a mouthful of food, “Uhm… can I come and scrub your back?” she mumbles. “No. Eat,” I order. As I leave the breakfast bar, I pull the hem of my t-shirt and tug it off my body. I can feel my wife’s scorching gaze behind me. I can’t have sex with her right now, but I can tease her. When I do have her again, I know we won’t be able to keep our hands off each other. That means we need to wait until she's healed.

I quickly stick my head into Taylor’s study on the way. “Taylor, have Gail prepare a picnic basket for us, discreetly. I’m going to take Mrs. Grey for a picnic at the big house. I’ll be taking the R8. Put it in the trunk.” “Certainly, sir,” he says, giving me a rare smile having recovered from his earlier daze. I take my time in the shower to give Anastasia time to finish her food. After the shower, I put on my white linen shirt and jeans, and put my pinstripe jacket on top. When I come out to the living room, Anastasia has finished her breakfast. “Are you ready?” I ask her noticing she put on a denim jacket and switched her heels with flats. “Yes,” she replies. I look at Taylor; he gives me an imperceptible nod. “I thought we’d visit Ray first,” I say because I want to spend a good part of the afternoon at the big house. “Oh, yes. I’d love to see Ray,” she says cheerfully. Maybe today she’ll tell him about the baby. I’m curious to see what she would say. When we arrive at the hospital, Ray is accompanied by Jose Rodriguez, Sr. watching a soccer game on the new plasma TV I got for him. I thought if he’s going to remain in the

hospital for some time, he can at least have better TV since he has no other entertainment. I’m pleased to see that he’s enjoying it. It doesn’t escape Anastasia’s attention and her eyes shine, completely happy. What makes her happy, makes me doubly joyful. After greeting and shaking both Ray’s and Mr. Rodriguez’s hand, I pull up a chair and sit to watch my wife interact with the two of them. “I’m so happy to see some color in your face. You are radiant!” remarks her father as she hugs him. Ana blushes, and thanks her father. We stay with them nearly half an hour, but I notice that Ana doesn’t tell her father that we’re expecting a baby. Her reticence makes me even more curious. Is she concerned in any way that I don’t want our baby? If that’s what she’s thinking, she didn’t give any indication to that thought. It’s not that I am no longer scared or worried. Because I am. What if I suck at this fatherhood, and won’t be the great father Ana thinks I will be? I am determined to try very hard and work at it. Having Ana’s and Junior’s lives in danger changed something in me. Something clicked in my mind and I finally fully realized that this is my baby! Instead of being an undesired condition, he is now a part of us. Ours: Simple as that...

That little person safely tucked inside my wife womb is someone who will irrefutably show the world that he’s the product of the love and intense passion Anastasia and I have for each other, and irrefutable proof that his mother is undoubtedly my woman. The thought oddly relaxes me, and I smile at Anastasia when she turns to look at me. When we leave Ray and Mr. Rodriguez to themselves, they look happy to get back to what’s left of their soccer game. As we close the door behind us, Mr. Rodriguez fills Ray in with what he’s missed. I take Anastasia’s hand and lead her to our car. Having spent part of last week here in the hospital worried sick for my wife, I’m happy to leave the hospital parking lot. I drive north on the freeway feeling free as a bird today. I’m with my wife driving to our future home. I can feel her gaze drinking me in; desirous and hungry. Turning to glance at her, I grasp her leg above her knee; gently and sensually stroke her leg. A sharp intake of breath is caught on her lips. “I’m glad you didn’t change,” I say, liking the easy access to her legs, keeping my hand above her leg, enjoying our connection. If I can’t have her, I have to have this link. I need it. She puts her hand above mine. “Are you going to continue to tease me?”

“Maybe,” I say giving her a crooked smile. “Why?” “Because I can,” I respond grinning, completely happy. She’s hot and bothered, and somehow it’s sexy as hell. I move my finger up to her thighs teasingly. “Two can play at that game,” she whispers. She just upped the stakes; my favorite game. I move my fingers even higher up on her thigh. “Bring it on, Mrs. Grey,” I grin ear to ear. She narrows her eyes, and huffs her breath through her nose. Gingerly picking up my hand, she puts it back on my knee. “Well, Mr. Grey, you can keep your hands to yourself.” I smirk at her frustration. “As you wish, Mrs. Grey.” She looks at me uncertain, realizing she may not get her way after all. If she only knew that the one thing that’s restraining me from pulling over and having my way with her is the knowledge that she is still bruised up. The rest of the drive to our new home is relatively quiet. When I reach the driveway turning into our house, I stop at the gate keypad, and punch in the gate code. The wrought iron ornate white gate swings open. A few seconds after I drive up the road, I can hear the gate closing behind us. The scenery is nearly surreal. The road is tree lined with the end of summer and early fall colors with a blend of green, yellow, and burnished copper. The grass in our meadow is also turning gold, though we can still green with the dotted wildflowers in it. I have to remember to have evergreen grass put before we move in. Though I don’t know how it would handle Seattle winters. I just realized that I don’t have much domestic skills. Oh fuck it! I have hire a groundskeeper. As we approach closer to the Sound, we can both smell the briny salty bite of the sea air. We can even hear the waves lapping at the shore. Anastasia looks excited and tranquil at the same time. Once I turn the curve on our private road, the big house comes into view with by several of my brother’s company trucks emblazoned with GREY CONSTRUCTION parked in the front. The scaffolding is surrounding the house, and numerous construction workers in hard hats are busy working either on the scaffolds or on the roof. I have a giddy excitement bubbling inside me. This shell of a house will soon be accommodating my family: My wife and

child. The busy activity around our home shows that soon we can live here. By Christmas, Elliot said. I have to see the progress inside to believe that he can make the deadline. But the idea of spending our very first Christmas in the new house is completely thrilling! I pull the R8 outside the portico and turn off the engine. “Let’s go find Elliot,” I say as I extend my hand out to her. “Is he here?” “I hope so. I’m paying him enough.” She snorts at my expression, and I grin in response. We hear my brother’s voice calling out to me. “Yo, Bro!” We look around to see him and his shouts at me again. “Up here!” He’s up on the roof waving down at us, and grinning ear to ear. “About time we say you here. Stay where you are. I’ll be right down,” he says teasingly. Anastasia looks up to me quizzically, and I shrug. That’s my brother, what can I say? And he appears at the door in a few minutes. He greets me with a big smile, saying “Hey, bro!” and shakes my hand. “And how are you, little lady?” he turns to my wife, picking her up and swinging her around. For fuck’s sake! She’s got bruised ribs! I frown at Elliot who ignores me studiously. “Better, thanks,” Anastasia giggles breathlessly. “Let’s head over the site office. You’ll need one of these,” he tells us tapping his hard hat. He takes us to the site office trailer. It’s an all steel building which looks like designed to withstand the rigors of a busy construction site with high security and antivandal features. We take the four steps leading into his mobile office. The door has three signs on it. “Construction Work in Progress,” “All Visitors Must Report to the Site Office” and “Site Office”. There is a desk manned by a woman in a sturdy construction outfit, and tattoos up to her right shoulder, and muscles seldom seen on a woman. Her hair is in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She looks up as we enter. “Hi Boss!” she greets Elliot, and gives us Anastasia and I a smile. “Hey Donna! This is my brother Christian, and his wife Ana!” he introduces us.

“Ah, the boss’s boss!” she grins. “What can I do you for?” she asks in a no-nonsense manner as she extends her hand to shake Ana’s hand first then mine. “We need couple of hard hats,” Elliot replies. “Sure, boss,” she says and going to a metal cabinet, she retrieves two hats and brings them back handing each of us one. After thanking her, we notice a big blueprint of our house on the wall. Anastasia smiles and holds my hand as we walk out. Elliot takes us through the front entry and showing us the interior which is now shell, a skeleton of what is to become. Some of the original walls have been removed to allocate space for a larger, more open space, and some new walls have been built which are still in studs. The floor is covered with what looks like burlap. Elliot takes a note of my attention and explains. “Yes, it’s burlap. Well, technically this particular one is burlene, actually. It helps the concrete cure in the bottom, and ecologically sustainable. We tried to go green all the way wherever possible, bro!” he says proudly. Some of the walls are covered in plastic sheets, and sectioned out. There are quite a few construction workers, both men and women working around. Elliot has a copy of the blue print, and shows us different parts of the house. Ana’s eyes brighten when she sees the stone staircase with the iron balustrade still in place draped in white dustsheets. When we walk into the Great Room which will become our main living area, Anastasia’s eyes brighten. The back wall into the patio has already been removed to make way for the glass wall, and the new patio construction is also in progress. But the most magnificent view isn’t the construction; it’s the view of the Sound. This is what my wife fell in love with, and this is the view what we wanted to wake up to every morning. “Now that I’m down here, I can really appreciate the view you have here, Christian. When we’re busy in various parts, we can’t sit back and enjoy the view,” says Elliot holding his hard hat up with one hand, then swipes the sweat off with the sleeve of his other arm, the he puts his hat back on. “Yes, we love the view,” I respond looking at Anastasia. “Gia has done well with this design,” Ana agrees gesturing the missing wall, looking at the view. Elliot explains us how long the construction will take in each phase, professionally, and patiently.

“All in all, we are going to work hard to finish your home so you can be in it right before Christmas.” “I’m not sure. There seem to be a lot to accomplish. Christmas sounds a little optimistic.” “It is an estimated time frame, Christian. But we have done several project this scale, even bigger. I have never missed a deadline. I have tens of crew members working each day in two shifts. I’m pretty confident that we can finish it by the date I’m giving you. We can do it, bro. Make sure you reserve your fifteen foot Christmas tree. They’re not easy to come by,” he says smiling confidently. “Oh, really? You can get us in by Christmas, Elliot?” Anastasia asks clearly excited having to spend the Christmas overlooking the Sound. Elliot nods. “You just upped the stakes. You better deliver, bro,” I say arching my eyebrows. I wouldn't want to disappoint Anastasia. “Don’t worry about that. Let me now show you your new kitchen,” he says and shows where everything else will go, though the kitchen too is a shell of its upcoming glory. “That concludes our tour. I’ll leave you two to roam. But be careful. This is a building site,” he reminds us. “Sure. Thanks, Elliot,” I murmur in response, and take Anastasia’s hand. “Happy?” I ask searching her face after my brother leaves to do his job. Anastasia gazes the empty shell of what will become our kitchen. She’s thinking, but her eyes are glinting with joy. “Very. I love it. You?” she asks. When she’s happy, I’m happier. Why wouldn’t I be? She’s my whole world. “Ditto,” I reply, grinning. “Good. I was thinking of the pepper pictures in here.” I nod. The art acquisitions from our honeymoon in France. “I want to put Jose’s portraits of you in this house. You need to decide where they should go.” She blushes, clearly still apprehensive of looking at her own beauty. “Somewhere I won’t see them often.”

“Don’t be like that,” I admonish her as my thumb brushes her bottom lip. I have a gorgeous wife, and those are amazing pictures of her. I want to look at her at all times. “They’re my favorite pictures. I love the one in my office.” “I have no idea why,” she murmurs her response and kisses the pad of my thumb as she captures it with her lips. This simple act is felt all the way at the tip of my cock. It’s like waking up a hungry beast to devour everything in sight. “Worse things to do than look at your beautiful smiling face all day. Hungry?” I ask. “Hungry for what?” she whispers lasciviously. It’s not enough that she has woken up my starving libido, but her desire of me makes me completely want to jump her here. My gaze darkens as I smirk at her. Control, Grey, control. Breathe, in, out, in, out… “Food, Mrs. Grey,” I response, my voice husky, and plant a soft kiss on her lips. She pouts taunting me and sighs. Remembering her other hunger…for food, for a change. “Yes. These days I’m always hungry.” “The three of us can have a picnic.” “Three of us?” she asks cocking her head to the side curiously, like I would. “Is someone joining us?” “In about seven or eight months,” I remind her of our baby. She grins at my acknowledgement of the baby. “I thought you might like to eat al fresco.” “In the meadow?” she asks hopefully. I nod. She beams completely overjoyed. “Sure!” “This will be a great place to raise a family,” I murmur as I gaze down at my wife. I spread my fingers over her belly. This is a wonder. There is a person inside her who is a part of me, and part of my wife. A representation of us; of our unity. Anastasia holds her breath, and puts her hand over mine. “It’s hard to believe,” I whisper in wonder.

“I know. Oh… here, I have evidence. A picture.” What sort of picture? “You do? Baby’s first smile?” I ask. I know nothing about pregnancies or babies. She digs in her wallet and pulls out an ultrasound picture. “See?” I take and look at the black, white and gray-scale image for long seconds, trying to find a baby in it. Then right there, a tiny person size of a kidney bean is represented on the image. That’s going to be my child. “Oh…Blip. Yeah, I see,” I murmur, marveled that my wife and created this new life. A very tiny new life. “Your child,” Anastasia whispers. “Our child,” I correct her. Ours. “First of many,” she whispers. What? Did I hear her correctly? “Many?” my eyes widen with panic. I am barely getting used to the idea of having one child. Many, is an undefined number which I can’t handle. A definitive number such as one had been difficult to digest. I can’t think of having ‘many’ children right now. “At least two,” she counters her original offer of ‘many’. “Two?” I say, testing the validity of the word in my mouth. Still sour; still hard to handle. “Can we just take this one child at a time?” “Sure,” she acquiesces, grinning. Don’t torture me on a good day, baby! We finally manage to walk outside hand in hand. A warm fall afternoon greet us. The sights, scents and sounds of the end of summer are inviting and alluring. “When are you going to tell your folks?” I ask still curious why she’s holding the information back from them. Clearly, it isn’t because she doesn’t want the baby. If it was up to her, she’d have more children. “Soon,” she murmurs absently. “I thought about telling Ray this morning, but Mr. Rodriguez was there,” she replies shrugging, also answering my unspoken question.

I get to the R8 and open the hood. I take the wicker picnic basket and the tartan blanket we have purchased in London. I knew it would come handy. “Come,” I say, as I take the basket and the blanket in one hand, and I hold my other hand for my wife. We walk to the meadow hand in hand.

When we come to a spot far from the construction site and the prying eyes, close to the Sound, I’m satisfied with the location, and spread the blanket. I hold my hand for Ana to walk onto the blanket. Then I take out the spread Mrs. Jones soon to be Mrs. Taylor prepared. Anastasia walks on the blanket after ridding herself off the flats and lies down as she watches me put the food neatly in their containers for easy access. I kick my shoes and socks off and sit by my wife; my knees raised my arms are on my knees. I can’t get enough of Anastasia, the person who contains my entire universe. To think that I almost lost her constricts my heart. The breeze coming from the sound sways the tall golden and green grass, making me feel like we are in our own provincial retreat, our own unique paradise. And of course my phone buzzes to get me out of my reveries. “Mr. Grey, I’m sorry to disturb you on your day off...” starts Ros. “No, you’re not, otherwise you wouldn’t be calling me,” I say. “Well, you got me there. No, I guess I’m not. But, there’s an important reason I’m calling you about. I might have to call you again with my apologies, sir.” “Ok, what’s up?”

“Initial deposits went through to Taiwan. All is looking good. We need to start the payroll base. Do you want me to transfer the entire amount to the bank, or for the first quarter?” “Well that depends on two things. The interest rate of the Taiwanese bank compared to what we have with our current bank here, and the tax implications for both the U.S. and Taiwan. Have Warren call me with the numbers, and comparisons.” “Alright! I’m on it! Have a good day off, boss,” she says and hangs up. I put Anastasia’s head on my lap and slowly feed her with the delicious sandwiches Mrs. Jones packed for us. “Something to drink, baby?” I ask. “Wine?” “Try again… I have juice and water.” “Juice please,” she says. I hand her a bottle of juice after opening the top for her. She takes it with a smile. My phone buzzes again, and this time Warren calling me to relay the numbers. Overall, there’s a small percentage of difference in where we keep the money, but Taiwan looks a little more profitable. Anastasia feels warm after having eaten, and remaining close to my body. She sits up and discards her jacket. I follow suit and take mine off, putting it over hers. Just as I reach for a strawberry, my phone buzzes again. “Hi again, Mr. Grey. Warren said he talked to you. I have also just gone over his assessments. I will cut to the chase, and recommend that we move ½ of the payroll to Taiwan. That will give us a six months assessment how it will be handled, and what returns it will generate, and the other half can stay here so we can do a comparison after the six months point. What do you say?” “Sure, Ros, go for it.” “That’s it?” “Yeah,” I say. “I agree with your assessment.” “Uhm, okay,” she says confused about my easy acquiescence. I hang up, turning my attention back to my wife.

“Where were we?” I say and feed her another strawberry. She slowly sucks it, and then takes a bite chewing it without taking her eyes off me. My gaze darkens with wanton desire for her. “Tasty?” I ask in a whisper. “Very.” “Had enough?” “Of strawberries, yes.” My breath hisses through my teeth as voracity rises in me in leaps and bounds. A rampant sudden burst of lust covers me like a second skin, glistening my eyes, and I grin at my wife’s reciprocity. “Mrs. Jones packs a mighty fine picnic,” I say. “That she does,” Ana whispers. The look in her eyes, the way she wants me, not just with lust but with love, awes me. I shift in my place suddenly and lie down beside her then rest my head on her belly. Right here is my world represented in my woman and our child. I close my eyes and listen her soft breathing, and her beating heart. Her fingers lace in my hair, caressing me; making me feel cherished. And the moment is broken by another buzz from my Blackberry. I give a heavy sigh, and scowl at the screen of my phone. Checking the name I realize it’s Welch. I spoke to him on Sunday. He wouldn’t be calling me if he didn’t have important news. Fuck! I have to take it. I roll my eyes, and answer. “Welch,” I snap. He doesn’t dally around, getting right to the point. “We have identified the bail poster,” he starts. My entire body goes rigid. I hold my breath. “It’s Mr. Lincoln, the CEO of Lincoln Timber. My men are currently watching his every move. The fucker is so devious; he can kick the devil in the ass with his own hind legs! He put so much thought and effort in getting Hyde out on bail. I have a lot to tell you. Are you free to talk, sir?” “No.” “Alright. Do you want us to continue keeping an eye on the bastard?” he says without any emotion. “24/7…”

“As you wish, Mr. Grey.” I don’t want to say much in front of Anastasia. I will have a field day tomorrow. Roger Fucking Lincoln tried to fuck me over by aiding a criminal who was arrested for breaking and entering into my home and attempted kidnapping of my wife which resulted kidnapping of my sister and my wife and near death of my family. He knowingly tried to destroy me by freeing someone who attempted to kill me, tried to harm my family. I will serve his own balls in a platter, emasculate him in front of his entire company. I look at my wife who is curiously watching me. A cool, chilling smile crosses my face with near satisfaction of what I am about to do to him. A visible shudder runs through Anastasia, her eyes wide, she continues to watch me. I take my Blackberry out and speed dial Ros. “Sir?” she answers the phone. “Ros, how much stock do we own in Lincoln Timber?” I ask. “As of last week 78%, sir.” She’s like a walking ledger with photographic memory. Check mate for Roger Lincoln! I kneel up immediately. This is better than what I thought. “So, consolidate the shares into GEH, then fire the board…” “Fire the board?” she asks shocked, not sure if she heard me right. “Yes, the board. Except the CEO…” “Are you out of your mind? That’s twelve people, not including the CEO!” “I don’t give a fuck!” I shout back. “Christian, how much thought did you put into this? We might get twelve different lawsuits! They might claim the fire is not clear cut, claiming that it’s a retaliation of some sort,” she retorts back. “I hear you, just do it!” I say. I have had all my ducks in a row before I have made this decision. In business, it’s money that talks. I know what I’m going to do with his company. “Fine! Generally you'd like to do the honor with such firings. But, per your orders, I’ll do it today, sir.” “Thank you.” “I’ll call an emergency meeting of the board members and announce their departure.”

“Keep me informed,” I say hanging up, I find my wife’s bewildered gaze looking at me. I look at her impassively for a minute until I compose myself. I don’t want my anger blow up on my wife. I count in my head until I calm down. Once I give out a soft exhale, Anastasia speaks. “What happened?” “Linc,” I murmur. “Linc? Elena’s ex?” “The same. He’s the one who posted Hyde’s bail.” Her jaw simply drops open in astonishment. Our worlds nearly collapsed, almost fucking ended because Lincoln wanted to pursue his revenge on me! He took his due on Elena, but she didn’t press charges. But that was her choice. And now that I have a family, he’s going after all those I love to hurt them; going as far as collaborating with Hyde who repeatedly tried to harm us! My mouth is pressed into a firm line in anger. I know there's more to what meets the eye. “Well… he’ll look like an idiot,” Anastasia murmurs, completely stunned. “I mean, Hyde committed another crime while out on bail.” My wife is the queen of understatements. If she only knew. What she had gone through broke her physically and emotionally. I could never, ever allow these fuckers reach her in any shape or form; not even the news of them. Anything about them will harm her. Not to mention she’s carrying our baby. I can’t ever let her know the extent of what had transpired, not if it's going to harm her. From what Welch had indicated, there’s more even I don’t know, yet. But all the puzzle pieces are falling into their places. I narrow my eyes and smirk. You want revenge, Linc? Bring it on: I’ll give you revenge even you can’t dream up. “”Fair point well made, Mrs. Grey,” I say satisfied with my decision. Keep her safe. Keep both of them safe. “What did you just do?” she asks, kneeling before me, her face looking up to me. “I fucked him over.” Ana’s face is shocked. “Uhm… that seems a little impulsive,” she murmurs. Impulsive? Thanks to Lincoln, Hyde was freed. My sister was given chloroform, horse tranquilizer and when the needle broke he gave her a dose of date rape drugs. Then he beat the shit out of my wife, bent on killing her. He had all the intention of killing both Mia and Anastasia and then skipping the country. All with the courtesy of Roger Lincoln

because the fucker hates me for fucking his wife. And I’m impulsive? No, I’m in a punishing mood. Linc wants to dominate me in his fucking devious ways? Let’s see who can dominate who. “I’m an in-the-moment kind of guy,” I reply calmly. “I’m aware of that.” I knew Lincoln might eventually come after me. I’ve seen results of his unrestrained anger. His purpose was to push Elena so far that she would file a complaint and giving him an opportunity to drag my name, my family’s name down in the mud, and making Elena into a child molester thereby sending her to jail as well. Even if his revenge came at the cost of going to jail himself. When it comes to revenge, I already know that Lincoln doesn't hesitate, and he didn’t have boundaries when it came to his anger. I had a feeling he might come after me someday, but I never had I assumed that he could go as far to harm my family this way. My eyes are narrowed, and my lips thinned with the thoughts of what Lincoln had almost accomplished in his bid to inflict me and my loved ones harm. He did it in such a way that he couldn’t be directly accused. I can't leave this unpunished. “I’ve had this plan in my back pocket for a while,” I say acerbically. “Oh?” she asks frowning. I have to think what I can let her know. It’s not because I don’t want to share the details of my past. I have to give her a glimmer of the kind of man Lincoln is. I hate bringing all this shit to the surface, but she needs to know this one. I finally take a deep breath to speak. “Several years back, when I was twenty-one, Lincoln beat his wife to a pulp. He broke her jaw, her left arm, and four of her ribs because she was fucking me.” My gaze hardens like rocks. I have a feeling that Lincoln took great pleasure in the knowledge that my wife too was beaten up an inch of her life, although I know that he would have been better satisfied if she and my sister were also fucked and killed. The thought makes my entire body rigid. “And now I learn he posted bail for a man who tried to kill me, kidnapped my sister, and fractured my wife’s skull. I’ve had enough. I think it’s payback time.” Anastasia turns ashen and shudders. “Fair point well made, Mr. Grey,” she whispers.

It is better that she thinks of me as a hard man than a husband who is incapable of defending and protecting his family. “Ana, this is what I do. I’m not usually motivated by revenge, but I cannot let him get away with this. What he did to Elena… well, she should have pressed charges, but she didn’t. That was her prerogative. “But he’s seriously crossed the line with Hyde. Linc’s made this personal by going after my family. I’m going to crush him, break up his company right under his nose, and sell the pieces to the highest bidder. I’m going to bankrupt him.” Anastasia’s silent as her eyes widen. “Besides, we’ll make good money out of the deal,” I say, smirking. Anastasia continues to stare into my eyes that are burning with rage. She looks quite scared. Oh, no! I don’t want to scare her. I need to protect her; protect my family. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” I whisper. “You didn’t,” she says. But Anastasia is a hopeless liar. She lies so infrequently; she can’t even make it sound truthful. I raise my eyebrow, questioningly. “You just took me by surprise,” she whispers, then swallows. I lean in and brush my lips, molding them gently over hers. “I will do anything to keep you safe. Keep my family safe. Keep this little one safe,” I murmur and splay my fingers over her belly, and gently caress it. Anastasia’s breathe hitches. Our touch has the usual electric tingle traveling through my body, awakening every cell, screaming for my wife. I gaze down at her and see that she and I are connected. She feels what I’m feeling. Lust, unrestrained carnal desire erupts, darkening my eyes. Tips of my fingers brush against her sex. I’m fucking hard for her now. Her hands reach out to my head unbelievably fast grasping me, pulling me down, and as her fingers tangle into my hair, her lips find mine, tugging hard, scraping, sucking and biting. Her invasion of my mouth is so sudden, she makes me gasp, and groan with full charge of sexual desire. I kiss her back with all I’ve got. My lips cover her lower lip and I suck it with full force, and then lick her top lip as my tongue darts into her mouth, reacquainting each other with our mouths, tongues, lips, taste, breath, and our unique brand of sexual charge.

“Ana,” I breathe her name, completely bewitched by her. My hand travels up her backside and to the hem of her skirt. Ana’s hands immediately dart to my shirt, trying to unbutton it, and completely out of practice. “Whoa! Ana… stop!” I say pulling back. What was I thinking? She’s not well. My jaws clenched, I grasp her hands holding them away from me. “No!” she protests, leaning up to clamp on my lower lip with her teeth, and tugs it. “No,” she murmurs again, gazing up at me. Then letting go of my lip, “I want you,” she utters with such a yearning, she’s bringing all my defenses down. I inhale sharply. I want her desperately. It’s been days, feels like years. Here’s the woman I love with everything I got, and she wants me. Desires me, and I fucking can’t say yes, because I’m too afraid I’ll hurt her. She’s still bruised up.

“Please, I need you,” she begs. Her gaze is pleading, her body is positioned in such a way that it’s ready to merge with me; mold into me. My body is missing her, desperately. I groan, and give up. Fuck it! I lean down, and my lips find her, shaping, molding, tasting, massaging, giving and taking. We’re meant for this; created for each other. I hold her head with one hand gently as to not to jostle her while my right hand skims down her body to her waist, and I ease her onto her back on the blanket and stretch beside her without contact with her lips. I pull back, and hover over my wife, gazing down at her as if I’ve not seen her in so many years. This is my second chance with her. She’s given back to me after nearly dying on me. “You are so beautiful, Mrs. Grey.”

She smiles, and her hands reach up to my face and caress me. “So are you, Mr. Grey. Inside and out.”

I frown. How could she think that after all that happened? “Don’t frown. You are to me, even when you’re angry,” she whispers.

Shit! I’m so fucking in love with her! I groan, and my mouth finds hers again, pushing her into the soft grass under the blanket. “I’ve missed you so much,” I whisper and my teeth graze her jaw. This is my soul shouting, because if I speak any louder, it’d be tears. She fills me up with emotions that I’ve never had before, charging my body, pulling me to her; making me want to never let go of her. “I’ve missed you, too. Oh, Christian,” she whispers clutching her hand into my hair the other hand hold onto my shoulder. My lips move down to her throat in a trail of kisses as my fingers unbutton her blouse rapidly and expertly. When I undo the last button, I tug her blouse apart, kissing the soft mounds of her breast under her bra. Fuck me! I groan a guttural sound appreciatively, ever nerve on my body alert. I can feel her breast enlarging already; her nipples are longer and firmer than before. Not extremely apparent, but I can feel the subtle changes in my wife’s body which is a wonder all in itself. “Your body’s changing,” I whisper in awe. My thumb teases her nipple and soon it’s erect, straining through her bra. “I like,” I breathe. My trace the line between the swell of her breast and her bra, teasing and enthralling her. Grasping her bra cup between my teeth, I pull it down, and her breast springs forward. I nuzzle her nipple with my nose which immediately puckers, and goose bumps form around her areola as a spring breeze rushes around us. I take it into the wet warmth of my mouth, and suck it long and hard.

“Ah!” she groans, than inhales sharply as I shift, making her wince. Her bruised ribs are hurting her. Fuck! “Ana!” I cry out, glaring down at her. I want her desperately, but I’m too concerned that I’ll hurt her. “This is what I’m talking about. Your lack of self-preservation. I don’t want to hurt you.” “No! Don’t stop,” she whimpers. How can I fucking say no to her, deny her of something she wants from me, when I want to give her everything? But sex might hurt her. Her gaze is desperate with need, as if I’m the food her soul needs. What the fuck do I do? Wait, she can sit on me; ride me in her own pace. “Here,” I say moving quickly, and roll over and make her sit astride me. Her sinfully short skirt is bunched up around her hips. Her bare thighs right above the thigh high stockings are mouthwatering.

“There. That’s better, and I can enjoy the view,” I say as my finger reaches up to free her other breast. As I cup both my hands over the swell of her breasts, she throws her head back to push them further into my grasp. My fingers deftly latch onto her nipples, teasing, tugging, and kneading them until she can no longer hold her pleasure in and shouts out. The sound of her pleasure is my undoing. I sit up immediately, and suddenly we are nose to nose; my ravenous eyes are on her. I kiss her while my fingers are still teasing her nipples. Her fingers scramble to my shirt, undoing the buttons, her fingers rush to unbuckle all thumbs in her haste as if any moment I’m going to stop her and she’s in a race to finish the task.

“Hey…” I say gently holding her head and pull back to look at her. “There’s no rush. Take it slow. I want to savor you.” “Christian, it’s been so long,” she responds panting. “Slow,” I whisper my command. She’s still anxious. I kiss the right corner of her mouth. “Slow,” I breathe, then kiss the left corner of her mouth. “Slow, baby.” I tug her bottom lip with my teeth. “Let’s take this slow.” I unleash my fingers into her hair, and keep her in place, taking possession of her mouth, gently calming her, tasting, savoring, soliciting, and arousing her. Her hands gently caress my face. Her fingers hesitantly move down to my chin and to my throat, and finally to my buttons, slowly this time as I kiss her. When she’s done undoing the last button, she pulls my shirt apart, and her fingers start trailing across my chest. Finally calming down, she gently pushes me down until she’s spread over me. She then sits up and looks down at me. My erection is seeking release, and feeling the ridges of my cock, she is squirming on top. She holds her fingers, and gently traces them across my lips, then trailing down to my throat, over my Adam’s apple, and down to my clavicle. Leaning down, she follows on the trail of her fingers. Grazing my jaw with her teeth, and kissing my throat. I have missed her touch. This is simply heaven. “Ah…” I groan as I tilt my head back, giving her easier access to my throat. My mouth relaxes and opens in quiet devotion of her. I am fucking mesmerized, aroused beyond belief. Her tongue trails down my sternum, teasing and trailing my chest hair. She inhales me in. She leans further down and kisses one of my scars, then another. I have

to have her. She wants me, I fucking want her. I grasp her hips, and her fingers halt their trail on my chest. She gazes down at me. My breathing is rapid and harsh as if I ran a marathon. “You want this? Here?” I breathe. Because, I am too in love with her and too lustful for her to stop once I start. “Yes,” she murmurs. When her lips and tongue graze across my chest to my nipple, my fucking rocket lifts off. She captures my nipple with her mouth and pulls and rolls it with her teeth. This gentle pain and pleasure is enough to drive me insane.

“Oh, Ana,” I whisper. Circling her waist, I lift her, and tug at my button and fly springing my erection. I sit her back down, just teasingly far enough from my cock. Then I run my hands above her thigh highs right where her milky flesh start, teasing, running small circles at the top, and slowly making my way over to her sex, and touch her on her clitoris. “I hope you’re not too attached to your underwear,” I murmur with wild eyes, nearly delirious with my desire for my wife. I trace the elastic along her belly, then slide inside, teasing her sex. Then I pull back and caress her over the delicate material, finally pushing my thumb through, breaking her delicate panties. My hands are splayed out on her thighs, and my thumb brushes against her sex again. When I flex my hips, my cock rubs against her sex. She’s soaking.

“I can feel how wet you are,” I whisper with carnal appreciation. I don’t want to do this fast. I will take my time and savor her. Immediately sitting up, I hold her waist and we are nose to nose once again. I rub my nose over hers and inhale her scent. “We’re going to take this slow, Mrs. Grey. I want to feel all of you,” I instruct her. I lift her up, and ever so slowly, ease and lower her onto my ravenous cock. When I sit her back onto my fully hardened erection, she pushes down against me as if she’s trying to reach the ground through my cock as I try to reach the deepest corners of her sex. “Ah!” she moans almost incoherently, and clasps my arms. She tries to lift up, but I stop her. I need to be deeper. “All of me,” I whisper. She needs to yield me. I tilt her pelvis, and push my cock that last inch to find my favorite, deepest spot I like to fuck inside her, making me feel I conquered her inside out. Anastasia throws her head back, and lets out a pure choked cry pleasure. The sound of her in ecstasy takes me into a different dimension. “Let me hear you,” I murmur. She tries to move up. “No…don’t move, just feel.” She opens her eyes, her mouth is frozen in a silent rapture. Looking at her in this state is heaven, pure pleasure. My eyes are fixed on my wife with a licentious stare. I shift, and roll my hips, but making sure she’s fixed in place. She groans. My lips are on her throat, kissing and sucking her gently. “This is my favorite place. Buried in you,” I murmur. “Please, move,” she begs.

“Slow, Mrs. Grey.” I flex my hips again, rubbing that deep spot in her sex. She cups my face and kisses me; her kiss becomes an all-consuming fire. “Love me. Please, Christian,” she begs. My teeth slide over her jaw, up to her ear. “Go,” I whisper. Lifting her up and down, I make her move. But Anastasia has her own ideas. She pushes me down, and really start moving, riding me, riding my cock hard. I place my hands around her waist, and match her move by move, rhythm by rhythm. The lowering sun is on her back over the Sound. “Oh, Ana!” I groan. I’m a lucky son of a bitch. My head is back, my mouth open. The moment where I lose myself to pleasure, and lust where I lose my sanity is approaching. I hold her thighs and press over her clit, rubbing over and over again until she shouts my name losing herself; I let go, and give myself over to her completely losing my mind in utter ecstasy. I have desperately missed this. Anastasia lies against my chest as I cuddle her, cradling her head. Her hands are splayed over my chest, calming my heart beat down. She kisses and nuzzles me. Relaxed. “Better?” I whisper. She raises her head. Seeing the satisfied lover look on her face, I grin ear to ear. “Much. You?” More than satisfied. I feel whole, complete once again. “I’ve missed you, Mrs. Grey,” I say in serious choked tone. I could have lost her. “Me, too.” “No more heroics, eh?” “No,” she shakes her head fervently. “You should always talk to me,” I whisper, my heart breaking once again that she didn't tell me what Hyde was doing. “Back at you, Grey.” I smirk, knowingly. “Fair point well made. I’ll try.” I kiss her hair. “I think we’re going to be happy here,” she whispers, and closes her eyes, overjoyed. “Yep. You, me and … Blip. How do you feel, incidentally?”

“Fine. Relaxed. Happy.” “Good.” “You?” “Yeah, all those things,” I murmur. She looks up at me, trying to assess something. What is she trying to dig? “What?” I ask. “You know, you’re very bossy when we have sex.” “Are you complaining?” “No. I’m just wondering…you said you missed it.” Oh shit! She’s asking about that. It’s not who, it’s just what I miss. “Sometimes,” I whisper, stilled, gazing at her. “Well, we’ll have to see what we can do about that,” she murmurs, wrapping herself around me. “I like to play, too,” she murmurs glancing up at me. She amazes me at every turn. I find myself smiling at her shyly. “You know, I’d really like to test your limits,” I whisper. “My limits for what?” “Pleasure.” “Oh, I think I’d like that,” she beams. “Well, maybe when we get home, I whisper. If she’s well enough. She nuzzles me again, and I pull her back and cuddle my wife, my world. Leonard Cohen - I'm Your Man

CHAPTER VIII THE ART OF WAR “Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.”

― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Lincoln wants war. He must have been studying Sun Tzu’s Art of War, because I recognize the technique; he wanted to subdue me without fighting. But clearly, he’s not a very good student. The first rule in the Art of War is to know your enemy. And Lincoln simply doesn’t know his own enemy; namely, me. There’s a Christian Grey persona outside. It’s what everyone sees. Hardly anyone is allowed to get a glimpse of what is inside of me. That Christian Grey is known by no one except Anastasia. I don’t intend to spread it out for others to decipher anytime soon. One of the first rules Sun

Tzu teaches is that victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while the defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win. I win first; I’m a fighter. I don’t turn the other cheek. You attack all those I love and give every indication that you will continue to do so, there is no place big enough to hide your wicked ass from me. I don’t believe in eye for an eye. And, I do forgive my enemies, but not before they’re hanged. All Lincoln had to do was to leave my family alone. But, no. He deliberately aided someone who had every intention of killing me; a man who attempted to rape and kidnap my wife. With Lincoln’s help Hyde got out, and did kidnap my sister and my wife and nearly killed them both. Hyde has been planning to cause the worst personal damage to me; and by aiding this fucker secretly to accomplish his heinous goal, Linc wanted to rip my heart out, and sit back to take pleasure of my torment; meanwhile acting as if he had no hand in it. Not only did Hyde extort money from me through my wife, but he intended to rape the girls, and he managed to beat my wife an inch of her life and put my baby’s life in danger. This is war and it’s personal! Linc won’t stop if I don’t stop him. I've put Anastasia to bed nearly an hour ago. I call Ros. “Good evening, Mr. Grey,” she answers her phone. “Ros! I need updates,” I say curtly, my manic energy so is fucking intense; it's oozing out of my pores. “About the Taiwanese? We followed your instructions, and half the money is transferred to our bank in Taiwan,” she replies. I feel irritation creep up. “Ros, I know I didn’t just lapse into fucking Klingon! That’s not what I’m asking about, and you know it!” “Oh, boss, since you’re so eloquent this evening, I’ll tell you the other update…” she says sighing. Ros is one of the very few women who are neither affected by my charms nor my wrath. That’s one of the reasons we can work well together, because she does her job well, and tolerates my mercurial moods without so much a blink and manages to do her job superbly instead of getting jumpy. “I have called in an emergency meeting and fired the board as you asked. But, the CEO will know about this by tomorrow. You know that. I don’t want GEH to be screwed with twelve law suits!” she says with acrimony.

“No, we won’t,” I say as I lean back in my chair. The leather of my chair protests with a squeak. “Is this a joke, Mr. Grey? Someone will leak it into the media stating it to be a hostile takeover. Knowing this, I’ve done my homework, and had appropriate reasons to give them the boot and a finger each. But we have had immediate leaks after we took over SIP despite the gag order.” “We’ll have gag orders placed in. Besides, I own a large portion of the stocks, and you will get me the remaining shares first thing in the morning.” “I’m a step ahead of you Christian. We’ve already had the gag order placed. However, you know that this is only the eye of the storm.” “I’m well aware of that. If I didn’t have all my ducks in order, I wouldn’t have done it. But, I do. Who do you think is going to have pity on a board of directors who are a bunch of overpaid pricks? I have poured myself over into all the financial data of Lincoln Timber in the last hour. Do you know how often this board of directors met?” “As far as it’s written in the bylaws, they're supposed to meet quarterly, and also have to meet whatever they prescribed in the corporate charter. Emergency meetings etc…” “Well, it averaged out one meeting a month. One fucking meeting! In the last meeting, guess what the agenda was?” “If the Congress is any indication, I’d wager and say that setting the salaries and compensation of company management.” “Bingo!” “Are you serious? Who is actually running the company?” “Yes, quite serious. The only decisions they’ve all agreed in the last three years’ meetings and speedily approved are the salary increase and supporting and reviewing the performance of the CEO who by the way rules them with an iron fist.” “But, you know they can vote him out!” Ros contradicts. “Not Roger Lincoln,” I say perfectly calmly, I am anything but. “How do you know?”

I shuffle the names, bios and very personal reports on the members of the board of directors in the several files I have before me; courtesy of Welch. “Well, I would expect a better yield as far as income is concerned from a control freak like Lincoln. The domestic wood products demand has been increasing with the expected new housing market, remodeling, non-residential construction, industrial construction as well as wood export demands from the Europeans. This will increase even more so as early as the beginning of the New Year. The money is being made; I have examined the ledgers. But, they should have had more growth than what is shown.” “I noted that too, sir. I had a feeling that someone, or a few someones were dipping their hands into the cookie jar. I don’t think you have gone through their ledgers as far as I have. I had Warren with me and we both divided the information a certain number of years. I had also the personal assets’ files drawn up of the board members. Sam checked those for me, and marked the discrepancies. A lot of the numbers still didn’t add up. In the company earnings, there’s about $53.6 million dollars unaccounted for, and somehow the ledgers are shown in order. But they’re not.” I am pure attention, shift in my seat, and lean into my phone. “How much did you say?” “$53.6 million Dollars, sir. This is over a period of thirteen years. Lincoln Timber has been a public company in the past 15 years. It’s carefully done, very tactful. It’s not skimmed in one or two years. It’s been done over several years. Even though the company’s growth is expected to be substantial, it was moderate, or that’s how we see it.” That is an important piece of information. “Who skimmed the money? Did you see any indication that one or more members of the board could have done it?” “Here’s the thing sir. See, these guys have to kiss a lot of asses in the House and Senate because they’re going neck to neck with the environmentalists who wish to see logging companies eradicated. There are indications that we know some of the lips of these guys so attached to some Senators, we don’t know where their lips end and the Senators’ asses begin. They might allocate funds for these politicians, but we found a lot of greasy hands in the pot. If you think Mr. Lincoln is as controlling,” she says emphasizing the word, possibly thinking of my controlling tendencies, “as you say he is,

he's turning the other way when it comes to their skimming from the top. There's a missing amount that points to the board of directors. We’ve calculated that number to be around $28.3

million Dollars. And that’s between twelve guys and a few asses in D.C. You can see the poorly concealed money trail. But the $53 million is – I must say admirable. There’s no trail. None, whatsoever.” “Oh, no Ros. When there’s an activity, there’s always a trail. I know his secret. It’s in the cash dealings,” I say in an even tone. “Cash? How could such large amounts of money can exchange hands in cash and no one know about it? And why would they want to do that? That presents a tax problem and countless other issues.” “Simple. Everyone gets a kickback. And when you divide it into months, it’s about $660,000 per months. When you look at it that way, it’s not that large amount of money. It's about two bars of gold per month. When large amounts of timber sent overseas, he can always show the price less than what is being agreed, and get the money deposited to an overseas account.” “What about the board members?” “Lincoln controlled them all. He got good use out of them in keeping his game with the politicians, and possibly allowed them to skim a certain percentage. Their salaries are $150,000 each, yet they all sit on millions of Dollars of assets with no other business endeavors. If they realized that he could be skimming, they were waist deep in sharks themselves to bother with him, and why would they? They had a steady income coming, the investors were getting a steady, however minimal return.” I hear Ros take a deep intake of breath. “In that case, I feel even better about firing their corpulent asses!” “Corpulent?” I laugh. “You have a way with your words, Ros. Now that we’re on the same page, tell me exactly what happened.” “I’m getting to it, Boss. Warren, Sam and I already figured out their part in the skimming. But when the trailed got cold with the $53 mil, I assumed either Lincoln was extremely stupid – but he didn’t struck me as one – or he’s the devil’s twin. I knew you would ask all the details, so, when I had called the emergency meeting, I had Barney set up a small camera from an inconspicuous angle, and he should have e-mailed video to you. Let me text him to verify.”

“I’ll look into my e-mails. It might be there already. I have not checked them in the last hour since I was going over other documents. But what does the video entail?” “Are you kidding? It’s my shining moment, Christian!” she says with exaggeration. “It shows how I kicked their asses, and if in case they wanted to sue us in the future, I have solid evidence of what was said to them, and what they did in response. We have clear indications and information at the lobby of our company stating that the building is clearly monitored by video surveillance at all levels,” she adds for my benefit. “Besides… I was spectacular. I would like my Boss to see it.” “I’ll reserve judgment until I watch the whole thing and will let you know what I think about it when I’m done watching it.” “What are you gonna do with the CEO, sir?” “I’m going to rip him apart one lumber at a time,” I say and hang up. I turn to my computer, and log into my e-mails. There’s the message from Barney Sullivan. I click on the video. After a little static, I see Barney’s sideways face with a pen in his mouth, testing the connection and sound. He grins into the camera, moves his glasses up his nose, and leaves. I see Andrea leading the board members to the table one at a time. They’re surprised to have been called for an emergency meeting, at GEH of all places. I can hear the confusion and anxiety to be called here. Ros, Warren, Sam and two others from the Finance Department enter. Ros takes the head of the table. Warren is middle aged, and he’s seasoned in business. He also doesn’t mind appearing in financial papers. When the Lincoln Timber's board members see him, they greet both Ros and Warren. But the others don’t get any acknowledgement. The two members who are closest to Ros shake her hand. “Mr. Warren, Miss Bailey,” starts the most senior board member after clearing his throat. “I’m Cliff Huxley. When I ask this question, I believe I’m backed unanimously. Is there a reason why we are called to have an emergency board meeting at GEH?” A murmur of agreement rises among the members. “Where is our CEO?” asks another member.

“And who might you be?” Ros asks calmly raising her eyebrows knowing perfectly well who it is. It’s her method of putting someone at unease. “I’m Andrew Sheldon. I’m the Executive Vice President of Lincoln Timber.” “Of course you are. Let’s get started then,” Ros says turning her attention to Warren. Someone else clears his throat to get her attention; all eyes are fixed on Ros trying to decipher why they’re here. But their demeanor is snobbish. “Miss Bailey!” shouts the man sitting in the opposite end of the table, across from Ros, as he slowly rises up in his seat. “I’m the CFO of Lincoln Timber. You have two minutes to explain why we are here for an emergency meeting of all things. Otherwise, we’re all leaving.” “Sit yourself down, Mr. Acers. You are no longer the CFO of any company. In fact Lincoln Timber no longer exists.” “What?!?” questions rise around the table. “How is that even possible?” someone else shouts. “I suggest you all sit down, sirs,” Ros raises her voice. “We owned 78% of your shares yesterday, and as of this afternoon, that number is at 100% and it is consolidated within the GEH. We no longer have need of your services.” “This is a hostile takeover!” someone else shouts. “No such thing is happening here, sir. Warren?” A grinning alligator interrupts, “you take over 100% of our assets, consolidate into your company and say that this isn’t a hostile takeover?” “Jeff Henson,” Ros raises her voice. “Your allocated salary is $152,000 and yet you have dealings with paper companies such as the Southern Texture, New Leaf, Blank Page, and oh, Smooth Run toilet paper on the side skimming from the top, and have accumulated assets that are worth $3.1 million Dollars. Impressive Mr. Henson. All in three short years! Tell me again, how do you manage to do that?” “You have no proof! This is an accusation which you will answer in court!”

“Oh, I’d love to. And of course the Internal Revenue Service would love to hear how you have made this large amount of money and not paid a single dime of tax on it,” Ros says sweetly. Murmurs run around the table. “Let’s go over the finances; particularly the missing millions of Dollars. Of course we as GEH are interested in knowing the whereabouts of that money; because we have owned a large amount of shares, and yet we have been shortchanged over the years because of your… how shall I put this delicately…” Warren says racking his brain. “Highway robbery,” adds Ros. “Highway robbery?” shouts the CFO managing to look offended. “Don’t get too impatient Mr. Acers. I’m getting to you,” says Ros theatrically shuffling files. “Ah, there you are,” she says and opens a large pale blue folder. Acers shift in his seat nervously. “You have been a bit greedier, haven’t you Mr. Acers? I can understand your excitement. I love what you have done with your new boat which by the way you’ve purchased from GEH. Thank you for your business. You have by far accumulated the largest assets among all the board members which have all been acquired since you began working about five years ago. I’m sure the prospect of not skimming from the top is stressful to you. But you have managed to increase your return by 18%. That’s a wonderful return in this downturn of economy, don’t you think Mr. Warren?” she asks sweetly again. Warren nods his agreement. “Meanwhile the yield from Lincoln Timber’s last quarter was a whopping 0.25%... Tsk…tsk…tsk...” she tuts wagging her index finger. “How dare you bring us here, accuse us, and… and… tell us that you have overtaken our company!” “I know; I’m sorry I neglected you Mr. Sheldon, being the former Vice President of Lincoln Timber and all… I was just about to reveal your highway robbery… I beg your pardon, your assets that you accrued generously from Lincoln Timber,” Ros raises her voice. Sheldon visibly pales on the camera. Barney must have taken the control of the joystick, because the camera zooms in on Sheldon’s face. “You have not done badly for yourself since you’re only $612,000 short of Mr. Acers, here. Congratulations!”

Silence falls into the room as Ros goes on. “Stop!” Sheldon says. “Shut up Sheldon,” hisses Acers. “Do you want to get indicted?” “I said shut up! She’s bluffing!” “I don’t bluff Mr. Acers. At your age of 52 years, a seemingly upright member of the society, you can finally lead a decent life you pretend to possess. But should you choose to go against GEH, we will come back with a vengeance, and make sure that you get to be someone’s bitch at the State Penitentiary as oppose to vacationing on your yacht Pearl with your lovely wife Cindy, your 11 year old daughter Jessie, your 16 year old son Jake and your golden retriever Lucy. Think how your lovely wife would be devastated and lonely in your very long absence… And I have not even begun to talk about the $53.6 million Dollars that is completely unaccounted for and I am beyond sure that all the other investors would loooove to hear about the whereabouts of their missing profits…” “What the fuck is Bailey saying Jeff?” asks one of the younger members of the board, visibly shaking. “I said shut up David!” Sheldon shouts. “I don’t think so! I’m young, and I have my whole life ahead of me. I wouldn’t have gotten into any of these if it weren’t for you, Jeff, Cliff and Mr. Lincoln! I’m not screwing up my family’s future for you guys anymore! I had no idea you guys had accumulated that much money! How is that fair that you get five times as much as I do? You can go fuck yourselves! What do you want Miss Bailey?” he says turning to Ros. “I want you all to vote yourselves out of a job, sign an NDA, and you will be put under a gag order.” “That’s blackmail!” shouts VP. “On the contrary, I could have turned all the evidence into the Feds and still owned the company. You’d not only be out of a job, but reputation, family and the money as well. I’m giving you another shot at decency.”

Young David looks green on the gills. Warren pulls his chair closer to Ros to avoid any projectile vomit if David was to hurl his way. “This is your only and last chance. GEH owns the Lincoln Timber as of the last hour. You have all been fired. But for the paperwork purposes, I will give you a chance to vote yourselves out of a job like the honest men you pretend to be in the next two minutes.” Sam gets up with documents in his hand passing them around the table. “If we don’t?” “If a single one of you doesn’t sign, all of the documents will be turned over to the authorities. Do I have your agreement, gentlemen?” First deathly silence covers the room, and weak ‘yeses’ can be heard around. Some just nods. Ros stands, fixes the frills on her pale rose color shirt. Pushes a strand of her hair behind her ear. She then turns to Warren with a smile. “My colleague, Mr. Warren will take it from here. Nice doing business with you gentlemen,” she says and exits the meeting room with her Jimmy Choo pumps clicking away. Sam and Warren checks each document passed to them, one of my attorneys walk in with a notary who certifies the documents making them official. I now own Lincoln’s ass, minus the missing $53.6 million dollars he’s hiding elsewhere. I will destroy him so thoroughly he will wish he never crossed paths with me. I call Ros back. “The sale of Lincoln Timber, piece by piece starts tomorrow. I want to start with the assets.” “I figured that was going to be the case from your less than happy demeanor earlier today, sir. I have a few companies in mind that might be interested in the heavy machinery the Lincoln Timber has. This is Washington after all. There are quite a few other lumber companies.” “Great! Sell them off tomorrow! Then sell the lumber they have in stock, and sell the contracts with the trees to cut from other lands. I also want the lumber to be moved within the week off the property. Put the land on sale with the onsite offices… Sell the

trucks. Then sub-contract the workers to other timber companies. I want everything about Lincoln Timber to be history within the next two weeks,” I order resolutely. “I will, sir,” Ros says hearing the ‘you-can’t-fuck-with-me-and-get-away-with-it’ tone. “Remind me to never to get on your bad side, Boss.” “Good night, Ros,” I say hanging up. I slowly walk into my bedroom, grasping the hem of my t-shirt; I pull it off my head, and slowly get into bed trying not to wake my wife up. She has one hand extended to my pillow searching for me in her sleep, and the other hand is protectively over her belly. My whole world is right here, in this bed. I take a sharp intake of breath with the sight of my wife. The seeping city lights from a distance are dancing in her hair. God! I’m a lucky son-of-a-bitch. Luckier even to have Ana back in one piece. In that instant, the mere inches are too far from her and I immediately pull Anastasia into my arms, spooning her. She gives a satisfied sigh in her sleep, and snuggles with me. Holding her like this I let sleep take over me.

*****❦ ♡ ❧***** “Good morning Seattle! You’re listening to K.O.M.O. 97.7 News Radio. It’s 6:00 a.m. on the hour. It’s 49 degrees outside with 62% humidity. Afternoon showers are expected around 3:00 p.m. We are now connecting with Sue Romero on Chopper 3 for traffic…” I

wake with the sound of the radio, finding myself wrapped around Ana like ivy on a wall. I slowly untangle myself from her and quickly turn the radio off to not to wake Anastasia. It’s been two days since we visited our house, two days since I ordered Lincoln Timber to be dismantled, and two fucking long days since we haven’t had sex. I’m vibrating, and can discharge energy if I was simply touched. I need to work out today to get the excess energy off. I put on my gray sweats and a t-shirt on and leave the room. Taylor is already at the entrance waiting in his workout clothes: shorts and t-shirt. “Good Morning sir,” Taylor says as he presses the button to calls the elevator. “Morning Taylor,” I say. He gives me a sideways glance and fidgets in his place. Taylor never fidgets. Something’s up. “You got some news for me?” “Yes, sir. Welch called earlier. Yesterday afternoon Ros sold all the heavy machinery that once belonged to Lincoln Timber. The purchaser is moving them out this morning. And someone informed Lincoln telling him the heavy machinery is being moved, and they’re legitimately sold. Apparently he rushed to the lumber yard in his boxers and a tshirt. He was pissed like an ornery bull when the security we placed tried to prevent his entrance to the company property since he’s the CEO of a company that longer exists. When Lincoln tried to fight with the security, he was escorted out in police custody. Apparently he’s in county jail right now in trespassing private property, assault charges and destruction of private property,” Taylor says trying to keep a straight face. “Assault charges?” “Yes. He beat two security guys up pretty badly. One is hospitalized with broken ribs. Second security guard got a broken nose a cracked elbow and wrist because he got kicked by Lincoln repeatedly. Two other security guards helped to subdue him and managed to cuff Lincoln and held him locked up until the cops were called. Even then he managed to destroy some items in the office he was locked in. His lawyers are trying to get him out in bail, but it’s too early for the judge to be at the court. Welch wants to pay him in kind for what he did having Hyde’s paperwork got lost.” I nod, and take my Blackberry out just as the elevator door dings open at the gym. I dial Welch. “Welch’s here,” he answers after the second ring as if he’s been up for hours.

“Grey… Welch, Taylor got me up to speed with Lincoln. Do whatever you need to do to keep him locked up for 24 hours at least. 48 hours would be better. If my attorneys want to fix the last fuck up they had in Hyde’s release, now is their chance.” “I don’t think that would be a problem sir. We have security camera feeds, and it’s clear that Mr. Lincoln is a violent man with anger management issues. And during my search for Hyde’s bailer, I have met a very interesting waiter who tipped me off on a lawyer named Albert. He also remembers Lincoln meeting this lawyer. I showed a picture of Lincoln and he immediately recognized him. He said he called himself ‘Brioni’, but the waiter recognized it to be a fake name since he was wearing a Brioni suit, Armani silk tie and Ferragamo’s Giostra Croc loafers.” “How would he know all that?” I ask skeptically. “Mr. Grey, it’s one of the most upscale restaurants in Seattle frequented by the wealthiest of the state, and the waiter is as gay and as style guru by the looks of him as Tim Gunn. He immediately knew that Lincoln was lying about his name after he said his name was Brioni after a quick glance at his own suit. Described Lincoln to be in control and commanding. He said that Mr. Lincoln was predatory like a lion dressed in an expensive suit. Apparently his gaze alone instilled fear in this guy. It took $2000 to unravel his fear. I also got the reservation list and discovered the name of the man Lincoln was meeting. It’s a lawyer named Albert Cohen. He’s not Lincoln’s regular lawyer. But it appears that he has used this guy’s services a handful of times and only when he wants to conceal something. His name came up when Mrs. Lincoln was attacked a few years back. That’s when this lawyer who was representing Lincoln.” I stiffen immediately. He’s the man who does Linc’s dirty work! “But, the most interesting bit of information I got after I took Albert for a ride with a few of my colleagues yesterday was that Lincoln always, always deals with cash. Large sums of cash,” he enunciates. “The cash travels around a few hands quite safely I might add via this guy to reach its intended destination. He gets paid well enough but after we’ve coerced him to cooperate with us, he fessed up that he gets a hefty sum of cash each time he performs a service for Mr. Lincoln who apparently likes to be referred only as “Sir.” The additional cash that was found with Hyde also came from Lincoln,” he says. “The mother fucking asshole!” I hiss under my breath, and Taylor looks concerned with my colorful epithet. “I want you to find where this dickhead is hiding his $53 million Dollars he stole from the investors.” “About that…” he starts.

“What?” “We’ve discovered a safe in the office he used at the Lincoln Timber’s offsite office. There was over $2 million Dollars in cash and account number and login information of some offshore bank accounts. But the balance in those accounts only totaled up to be around $17.2 million Dollars which he can still access of course. We still have the larger sum unaccounted for.” “Keep digging! I want all his offices to be examined. The headquarters as well. He no longer owns the building, and he should not have access to any of the offices.” “One more thing sir… There are saved newspaper articles regarding your marriage, your accomplishments, the SIP, GEH, Hyde’s break-in, Mrs. Grey’s and Miss Mia’s kidnapping, the ransom, and Mrs. Grey’s hospital stay,” he says slowly, letting the information sink in. “What else?” I ask through gritted teeth. “If the article printed a picture of Mrs. Grey and you, he crossed out Mrs. Grey's image with a large X in red marker, and I could see that he...” says and stops, clearing his throat. My anger rises. “Spit it out Welch!” “He must have been vengeful or angry because it was evident that he pressed the marker really hard to cross her image. From a profiler’s point of view, it indicates a personal grudge. Though we have searched for any evidence that could tie Mrs. Grey to Mr. Lincoln, there is absolutely no indication that he knows Mrs. Grey personally at all.” “It’s because there isn’t any connection!” I hiss. “Yes, sir. But we could not have made that assumption without substantial evidence. We had to make sure that there was nothing that tied Mrs. Grey to Mr. Lincoln. By deductive reasoning, we have found one and only connection: you. He targeted Mrs. Grey because she’s your wife. But that conclusion only came after we put nearly twenty pictures of you and Mrs. Grey together from newspaper and magazine clipping he collected in a file. He didn’t take a newspaper article with a picture or a magazine image that didn’t contain the both of you. What emerged out of it was that he wasn’t targeting Mrs. Grey at all… Well, let me correct that, he was targeting Mrs. Grey but in a way to deduct her from you. He was taking her out of the picture. He was leaving your stranded and alone. We couldn’t see this until we put all the articles and pictures

on one wall. That's when the intent emerged: A Christian Grey without a wife. So, the grudge was personal, but it was you he was intending to punish by harming Mrs. Grey. Hyde, of course was the perfect tool for that purpose because of his hatred for you and Mrs. Grey. It would never occur to anyone that someone else had a hand in it had Hyde succeeded in his attempts.” I feel my rage rising in me again. “Make sure he’s not set free on bail for 48 hours. Allocate my lawyers immediately to represent the security guards to sue him for all he’s got for what he did to them." My voice is low, and menacing. “You said 24-48 hours, sir.” “I changed my mind. 48 hours. I will give the fucker the surprise of his life when he’s released on bail!” I hiss. “Yes, sir.” Taylor is eyeing me with concern. I walk into the gym, and go to a corner near the punching bags. I dial Ros’s phone. “Good morning Boss,” she answers the phone. “Ros, you have 48 hours to liquidate everything of Lincoln Timber. I don’t want even a single leaf with that name left by the end of the 48th hour.” “Oh, you spoke to Welch already, then.” “I did.” “Heavy machinery is being moved today. I will sell the timber among three home builders a little under the market value to move them fast, but we’ll still make money. And it turns out; Lincoln Timber has screwed a couple of other timber companies in business dealings by constantly underbidding them, and cutting into their deals. These two companies, Northwest Timber and Miller Timber reached out to us after the word got out. They don’t mind coming together and purchasing the land and office space right out under King Lincoln himself. And that’s the title they used, not me. Apparently Lincoln is a self-titled man: King of Timber. The timber companies have 50% of the asking money, but they need to secure a bank loan for the rest of the 50%. As long as we’re backing them, the bank will loan them the money today and this way we can make more money on the deal than I originally

estimated. If we sit on the property and work force, we’ll lose money because we are in the process of dispersing it. But, this offer is the best of the both world.” “Do it!” I say grinning as I hang up. You wanted to fuck with me Lincoln? Game on! By the time I spit on your face, I’ll have already won. Taylor looks at me after I hang up. “Treadmill or punching bags?” he asks. “Punching bags,” I reply.

*****❦ ♡ ❧***** When we get back to my Penthouse, Anastasia is still sleeping. Pregnancy is making her hungry and tired. I gaze at her as she is lying in bed, looking younger than ever, her hand still outreaching my pillow. I want to kiss her and hold her but she needs all the rest she can get to heal and for the baby. I pat my way barefoot to the en suite bathroom and turn the shower on. Quickly divesting my clothes off, I take a shower. After my shower, I put on my white linen shirt and black jeans. I check on Anastasia, but she’s still deep asleep. I go back out to the living room. “Breakfast Mr. Grey?” “Yes, Gail. My usual. I’ll have my coffee now,” I say as I sit at the breakfast bar. She brings me a steaming cup of coffee as start reading Seattle Times. Gail puts a warm plate of egg whites and bacon before me within a few minutes. Then she fills my coffee up. As I’m halfway through my breakfast, Anastasia walks in with pale blue a wraparound dress which is making her blue eyes even brighter. Her hair is in a ponytail. “Good morning, Mrs. Grey,” I greet her with a smile. “Good morning, Christian,” she says leaning in for a kiss. I encase her between my legs and holding her in my embrace, I give her a deep kiss. Gail studiously ignores us, but then I don’t give a shit about who sees me giving my wife a through tonsil exam with my tongue. When our lips part, we’re both breathless and Anastasia’s cheeks are flushed. “Guess, you missed me,” she says smiling. “You have no idea!” I murmur as I sit her on to the seat next to me.

“What would you like this morning, Mrs. Grey?” Gail turns around handing Anastasia her tea. “Uhmm… I’ll have waffles, eggs, bacon and some melon please Mrs. Jones. I’m starving!” she says. Gail gives Anastasia a wide grin, completely happy like a mother whose child is finally eating without a fuss. “Don’t you have work today?” Anastasia asks. “I do, but I’ll do my work from home… What’s the point of being the boss and not be able to take time off from my office?” I say smiling. “I should go to work…” “You can do your work from home, Ana. I can’t let you go until next week.” “Christian, it’s Thursday for heaven’s sake! I’m feeling better,” she argues as Gail places her plate before her. “Mrs. Grey, this argument has been closed since Monday. You can revisit it next Monday. Until then you stay home, and I stay home making sure you don’t get in trouble,” I say with an inscrutable gaze. Anastasia cuts and takes a big bite of her waffle. She closes her eyes as if she’s savoring the taste of it for the first time in her life. “This is great Gail!” she says with a mouthful of waffles. Then turns to me after taking a sip of her tea. “Christian, I don’t need babysitting. I’m a big girl,” she says and I raise my eyebrows. “Who says I’m baby-sitting you? I’m just trying to spend quality time with my wife,” I say my eyes darkening. “Oh…” she murmurs turning her attention back to her plate. “I suppose I can read the query letters and respond to them,” she murmurs as she takes a bite of her eggs. “Would you like some orange juice Mrs. Grey?” Gail asks. “Yes, please,” she replies. Gail places a glass of juice by her plate. Anastasia is completely concentrating on her plate of food. “I hate that I can’t stop eating,” she murmurs.

“Yet, I love you eating, baby. You’re eating for the two of you, remember?” “Yes, but I don’t want to get fat,” she replies taking a bite of her melon. “We’ll get you a trainer who has experience in training pregnant women. That way you two can work out a regimen to keep you healthy. But you need to eat. Blip is counting on you,” I say. She places her fork down on the plate, her eyes glisten with unshed tears. Oh, shit! Did I say something to hurt her feelings? “What a lovely thing to say! I love you, Christian,” she says and wraps her arms around my neck tightly. After a few seconds of confusion, I return her hug, and hold her in my arms as long as she wants to be there. I make a mental note to ask her doctor if there’s a comprehensive book I can read on pregnancies. I have a feeling she’s going to experience quite a few mood swings and other changes that I need to prepare for.

After breakfast Anastasia spends most of the day going through her work e-mails, reading query letters, and getting a head start on reading a manuscript. I talked to Welch and my lawyers who are responsible for Lincoln remaining in jail without a bail for the next 48 hours. After seeing the videotape, the judge decided that it was best for Lincoln to remain in jail to cool his jets down without bail, and the issue will be revisited within 48 hours. The bank secured the financing for the two other lumber companies, and the papers have been signed. But the land and properties formerly belonging to Lincoln Timber won’t change hands until Monday at the conclusion of the 3 day waiting period. Anastasia is tired by noon, and I put her down for a nap while she is protesting and yawning. “Just for a little while baby. Your body clearly needs the rest for healing and it’s going through a lot of changes, and creating a new life…” I say in awe. “It’s going to take its toll on you. Sleep,” I order. “I’ll come and check on you later.” “Hold me until I fall asleep, then,” she whispers. I sigh. Fuck it! Work can wait a little longer. I sidle next to her, and pull her into my arms, hum her until she falls asleep. Bella’s Lullaby I leave Anastasia when she’s deep asleep, and go to my study to work. When I’m finished with the e-mails, Ros’s and Welch’s files, it’s already been two hours. Since Anastasia hasn’t come out yet, I’m going to let her sleep a little more. I sit at my piano, pulling the lid down so I don’t wake Ana up, I start playing Jesu Bleibet Meine

Freude by Bach: The Joy of Man’s Desiring. It’s a happy tune. I have my wife safe and sound. My baby and my sister are safe and sound. Hyde is in jail. And I will deal with Lincoln when he gets out. It’s a good day.

Jesu Bleibet Meine Freude-Bach Once I finish playing the tune, I start over again and again and again. I only stop when my Blackberry buzzes with an incoming e-mail. Who would that be at this hour? I take it out of my pocket, and open the message that jump-starts my heart and raises my libido to Defcon 1. ______________________________________ From: Anastasia Grey Subject: My Husband’s Pleasure Date: September 21, 2011 20:46 To: Christian Grey Sir I await your instructions. Yours always Mrs. G x ______________________________________ I take a deep shaky breath. We were going to explore the limits of her pleasure, but she’s still healing. On the other hand, I desperately want and need her. She wants me… And she really needs to be fucked thoroughly. It feels like it’s been forever. Shit! I don’t want to hurt her, but we need this. It will heal her, heal us. We need this as much as eating, sleeping and breathing. And her message does say ‘my husband’s pleasure’. I am her husband. If she wants it, I’ll be the one giving it to her. ______________________________________ From: Christian Grey Subject: My Husband’s Pleasure ---- love this title baby Date: September 21, 2011 20:49 To: Anastasia Grey Mrs. G I’m intrigued. I’ll come and find you. Be ready.

Christian Grey Anticipative CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc. ______________________________________ I slowly but anxiously stride my way towards our bedroom, barefoot. The door is ajar. I walk in slowly. Anastasia is kneeled by the door in her blue lace panties and place blue lace camisole. Her fingers are spread on her legs, her eyes downcast. My Playroom over washed jeans are neatly folded by her. The sight of her, what she wants to do for me, to please me, to fulfill my needs makes my heart jump start. She really wants this! She wants this is for both of us.

She will never be a submissive, but this will do. This is heaven. I feel the lump in my throat, because this is Anastasia’s gift for me; for both of us. I finally lean down in a gesture to accept what she is offering me and pick the jeans up. I can see her chest rising up and down deeply with anticipation and excitement. My wife wants to play. We aim to please. I walk into my closet with my playroom jeans she laid out for me. I divest all of my clothes off and put my jeans on with the top button open. I walk back to my bedroom where my wife is still kneeling. I stand before her.

“So you want to play?” I murmur. “Yes,” she responds. Yes? Is that what we say? I don’t respond. I want her to remember the rules. When I say nothing. I feel her gaze move over my denim clad thighs, and my bulge at my fly, at the open button at my waist. Then her eyes linger over my happy trail a little too long, finally rising up to my chest hair. She’s drinking me in like a man out of the desert thirsting for water. Her gaze connects me with her, my synapses firing, desiring her. When the blue of her hungry eyes meet with my gray stormy gaze, my head cocked to one side questioning her with an arched quizzical brow, she gets her OSM (Oh Shit! Moment) face. “Yes what?” I whisper, enunciating. She takes a sharp intake of breath, remembering. “Yes, Sir.” My eyes soften at her enthusiasm. “Good girl,” I murmur as I caress her hair. “I think we’d better get you upstairs now,” I add. We haven’t been to the Playroom for a while. I hold my hand out for her to take her upstairs. When we reach the playroom door, I stop and bend down and kiss her gently before grasping her hair hard. My wife is a switch. She can be both submissive or a dominatrix. She wants to submit to me, but instead of waiting for me to make the demands, she makes the demand and I find her in a submissive position, forcing my decision to be with her. She is topping from the bottom. Fuck it! I can’t resist her. I’ll take her any way I can get her. “You know, you’re topping from the bottom,” I murmur against her lips that I can’t get enough of.

“What?” she asks. “Don’t worry. I’ll live with it,” I whisper and run my nose along her jaw and gently bite her ear. “Once inside, kneel, like I’ve shown you.” “Yes… Sir.” I gaze down at this creature who is my wife, who loves me unconditionally and is willing to do this for both of us. I’m in awe of my Anastasia; completely in love with her. She bites her lip and walk into the Playroom. I go back to our bedroom and find her pink Louboutins and a hair tie. Then I make a stop at the library. After taking one item out of the library, I make my way back to the playroom.

When I walk into the playroom, she’s kneeling by the door only in her panties; her hair is cascading on her back, eyes downcast, hand splayed on her legs. I approve. I walk towards Anastasia. I’m in my Dom persona again. “Ana, you may look at me,” I say and she lifts her gaze up to me. “I want you to put these on,” I order. I extend my hand to her, and she takes it, standing up. “Yes, Sir,” she replies. I hold her hand and she walks into her shoes. “Turn around,” I command.

“Yes, Sir.” She turns her back to me. I pick her hair at the nape and tug it and quickly braid it tying it in the end. I give a tug at her hair, and her head is forced back making her lips available for me. I kiss her hard and deep, with possessive urgency.

I walk her to the four poster bed. “I want you to now take your panties off… Slowly,” I order. Anastasia’s breathing speeds up. She swallows and hooks her thumbs into her waistband, slowly running her thumbs around her panties and slowly lowers them down. My cock is so hard; it’s straining against my fly, ready to get out. I want to fuck her deep and hard. Shit! I have to show restraint depending on how she feels. But if I delay the gratification for both of us, our pleasure grows exponentially. “Lie on your back on the bed,” I order. As she lies down, I get the spreader bar, lifting it up, I show it to her. I fasten the spreader bar on her ankles. “I’m going to fasten your hands now Anastasia. I need a show of hands,” I say.

“Yes, Sir,” she replies holding her hands out with barely restrained excitement. I cuff her hands with soft leather cuffs and tie them to the headboard. “Now, I will put these on your nipples,” I show her the clothes’ pins. She gasps as I pinch her nipples and pin them with the clothes’ pins. Then, I

walk to the

stereo and shuffle to Rui Da Silva’s Touch Me on repeat. Rui da Silva ft. Cassandra – Touch Me “Now, Anastasia, due to popular demand, we are going to play, baby. This is for both of our pleasure. I’m your husband,” I say. “Sometimes dominant…” she says, “Sir,” she adds. My eyes darken. “I’m going to spank you with this," I say showing her the ruler. "Six or ten, Anastasia?” I ask. Her eyes widen. She bites her lip. “Ten please, Sir,” she says. Fuck me! I would love to baby. “I want you to count with me baby,” I say and twisting the spreader bar, I turn her onto her stomach. “Lift that glorious ass up the air,” I order, my voice is rough. She pulls her knees under her, lifting her ass up in the air; her sex is peaking, glistening wetly. My hand gently strokes her buttocks, and then my middle finger dips into her sex, swirling. She moans. I take my finger out, and rub her buttocks again. Then I lift my other hand up and land the ruler evenly on both of her buttocks. “One…” she moans. I lower my aim, and swoosh the ruler in the air again landing it on her sex and the bottom of her ass. “Two…” she utters. I rub her buttocks again caressing, then land the ruler again in a pattern. “Three…” she counts and groans with pleasure.

I massage her buttocks and stroke her sex between every other spanking. Her buttocks are pink with the blood rushing to the surface, alerting her nerves to receive pleasure.

“Nine…” she counts, her voice needy, full of desire. And for ten I use my hand landing it right on her sex and buttocks, and dip two of my fingers into her greedy sex. “Ten… please, Sir, fuck me!” she begs. “Hush, baby, all in good time,” I murmur. “Keep this glorious ass up in the air,” I order, and dip my nose between the apex of her thighs and inhale, then I spear my tongue into her sex, and swirl, pushing it deep. My hands grasp her buttocks hard, not letting her move away from my ministrations. But she is greedy today. She’s pushing her ass into me, seeking friction. I suck her clit hard with my lips, and my tongue finally tortures it with pleasure. I swipe my tongue against her slit and between the blooms of her sex, and she’s forced to absorb the pleasure because the spreader is preventing her close her legs. I lean in, and fuck her with my tongue. Then, unexpectedly I flip her over to her back, and seal her sex with my mouth again, but this time, I reach her nipples and as I deliver the last stroke for an explosive orgasm, I squeeze the clothes pins, and pull them off her nipples. She screams my name in pure bliss. I immediately take my pants off. I want her with ferocious hunger. I quickly flip my wife onto her back again. Lifting her buttocks up, I pull her to meet my cock, and bury myself into her. Anastasia’s orgasm has been so intense, I can feel it rolling over my cock, and the muscles inside her sex are still contracting. She’s trembling like a leaf.

She gyrates her hips, and I hold her in place. “No baby, I want you to feel every inch of me take over your sex!” I say, and slowly feed my cock into her sex. I’m finally balls deep. I close my eyes, and hold myself in place. “Please, Sir. I need more!” she begs again. She is so wet. Wet for me! I move out slowly, and move back in again, savoring her like a flavorful wine. “Christian! Sir! I won’t break. Fuck me! Fuck me, hard!” she demands. Topping from the bottom again, but this time, I let myself go wild, and drive out, and spear into her hard, my balls heavy and aching; slapping against her clit, stimulating her, driving her wild. My veins on my cock are throbbing, seeking friction and pleasure. I pull out again, and this time I let loose the wild hunger, the animalistic urge to fuck my wife, and completely possess her. I can feel her build up again quickly.

“Hold it Ana! Don’t come, baby! Savor it! Feel my cock taking you over! Possessing you.” When I feel her tightening, quivering around my cock, I slow and pull back. When the quivering dies down, I plunge back into her again with ferocious speed but this time I don't stop. “Come for me baby!” I growl. I feel her muscles squeezing me like a fist inside her, milking me for all I’ve got, making me come hard. I finally empty every last drop into her, taking over my wife… or she takes over me. I collapse onto her; my faculties are elsewhere with pure pleasure. I finally pull out of her, and undo her ankles and wrists, rubbing them. I pull my wife into my arms, and we both hold onto each other until sleep takes over us, melting our tension, worries, and troubles. At least for the time being. In My Secret Life - Leonard Cohen

CHAPTER IX CHECK MATE

Monday came fast enough. I wake up before the radio alarm goes off. Anastasia and I are wrapped in each other’s arms. If I move, she’ll wake up. I shift in the bed slowly trying to move my arm under her head. But that makes her roll into me, and she holds my torso in her sleep, trying to situate herself in the bed trying to fit her soft body to the contours of my hard muscles. As she moves to find a perfect position to sleep in my grasp, her breasts rub around my chest hair, and her nipples awaken my senses. My erection springs, laying between us a thick and heavy rope, digging into her. Awareness of my intruding cock, throbbing over her soft flesh wakes her up. “Good morning to you, too, husband,” she says smiling half asleep into my chest. “Hi,” I kiss her forehead. “Hmmm,” she murmurs. Shifting her head slightly, she kisses my neck. "Guess you're happy to see me." “We don’t have to… if you don’t feel up to it…” I say. Ana’s hand reaches to my erection and she rubs her thumb over the burning wide crest of my erection spreading the dew over the tip. Her singular touch almost immediately fires up my body, and send shock-waves all through my extremities curling my toes. She fucking lit the fuse!

“We’ve gone all weekend without it. Can’t treat me like I’m made of glass, Christian,” she complains. I groan and take her lips with urgent demand, sucking her lips and feel the luscious softness. My tongue is all over her mouth at once, thrusting, caressing deeply, stroking in sensual licks. She moans into my mouth, surrendering and taking. My hands move to her head to hold her in place, and as I carefully place her beneath me, I loom over her.

“Christian,” she moans, raising her head, her mouth meets mine, her arms wrap around my neck. “I’m hungry… I just got a bad craving,” she murmurs into my mouth. “Huh? Now?” I ask incredulous, lifting my head up to get a good look at her face. Once Anastasia is turned on, she normally has no off switch. She wants food now, yet she looks at me as if I’m something to eat. “Now,” she groans, and her tummy gurgles as if to back her up. Puzzled, I pull back up, hot and frustrated. “Well, I guess we can get breakfast,” I say looking down at my disappointed erection, now throbbing. “I want a chocolate Popsicle.” “A chocolate Popsicle?” I ask, testing the words of her odd request. I’m the husband of a pregnant wife. Guess I have to be prepared to get odd food requests at unexpected times, like when I’m ready to make love to her.

“Uhm… I’m not sure if Mrs. Jones purchased any chocolate Popsicle. I’ll have to check in the freezer,” I say. “You sure you don’t want breakfast?” I ask trying to hide my disappointment. “Oh, I want breakfast alright, but I want it here. You find the chocolate syrup in the pantry and bring it back please; I’m looking at my Popsicle right now,” she says her gaze is locked on my erection. It takes me a moment to register. “You want to dip my cock in chocolate?” I ask as my gaze is darkening with wanton desire. “I want my Christian Grey flavored chocolate Popsicle, now!” she demands.

“Yes, ma’am,” I reply with another glance at my wife and pull the sheet from the bed leaving her completely naked for my eyes, and wrap it around my waist. Wordlessly, I go out of our room, and quickly make my way to kitchen. Gail is in the kitchen working. She looks up as my feet softly pads way towards the pantry. “Good morning Mr. Gr... Grey,” she say stuttering seeing my half naked state under my bed spread, and immediately lowers her eye. “Morning Gail,” I reply and open the pantry. My gaze quickly scans the contents situated on the shelves. Finding a bottle of Ghirardelli’s Sweet Ground Chocolate Sauce, I take the bottle, and with Gail’s puzzled gaze following my retreating steps, I make my way back to our bedroom. Seeing the Ghirardelli bottle in my hand, Anastasia grins and rubs her hand together. “Yes! My favorite!” she says and almost attacks the bottle ripping it out of my hand. It’s fucking hot because not only my wife wants to suck me dry but also eat off of me. She licks her lips hungrily her gaze going from the bottle to my heavy erection.

“I’m hungry, husband. Feed me,” she says smiling lustfully, beckoning me with the crook of her finger, then pats the space on the bed next to her like the Siren’s call. “Alright Mrs. Grey. Have it your way,” I say as I stretch next to her. My cock, a thick rope lies heavy against my belly. Anastasia grins and straddles me. Placing the unopened bottle of chocolate next to me, she slowly, purposefully leans down until her nipples slowly touch and tease me on her ascent towards my lips. When she reaches my neck, she places light kisses over the side of my neck, my ear. Capturing my earlobe between her teeth, she slowly tugs it into her mouth and sucks deep. Oh shit! I feel the effects of it on the crown of my cock. Her lips move to the side of my face, my chin, grazing over my stubble, stimulating her senses. When she finally makes her way to my lips, she traces them with the tip of her tongue, and finally covers it with her now swollen lips. Our lips mold over each other, kissing passionately, sucking and teasing.

“I am going to lick the chocolate off your cock and then suck my favorite Popsicle dry,” whispers against my mouth making me even harder. As her lips retract back slowly, making me feel bereft and needy, she travels back down my body slowly, kissing, licking and nipping. Once her lips reach my belly button, she traces the circumference with her tongue, and darts it into my belly button. Then slowly and leisurely, she traces her nose over my happy trail, still moving south. Finding my heavy ball sack she lifts it with her hand and gently sucks it. I hiss a harsh breath between my teeth. She pays the same attention to my other ball. Finally, she traces her tongue from the root of my cock to the dewy tip. The wide crest of my cock is both feverish and pulsing with need for her. Anastasia leans down, her hair cascading on the sides of her head in chestnut waterfalls. Her right hand grasps the root of my thick cock. She slightly lifts her long eyelashes and our gazes meet. Anastasia runs her tongue over her upper lip showing me how hungry she is for my cock.

“Fuuuuck!” The word escapes my lips in a hissing blow. She lowers her mouth; her gaze still locked with mine and her soft lips encases my steely erection starting with the soft tip first. The tip of her tongue swirls and strokes the crown gently, rhythmically. I clutch the pillows on both sides of me. Then her lips and mouth leaves my cock and I feel the cool drips of chocolate on the very tip of my cock as Anastasia’s hand is holding the root up like a Popsicle. When the first lazy drop hits the tip, the sensation coupled by her ravenous gaze on her prize is thrilling. She licks her lips. Then another and another and another drop of chocolate land on my crown and slowly oozes down the shaft and over my erection, finally coating the crescent formed by her thumb and the index finger, pooling. Once my cock is completely covered with chocolate, looking like a rather overlarge banana, Anastasia grins as she looks at me, and without breaking her gaze, her mouth descends on my cock.

Her lips first touch the tip, and she sucks the chocolate rather ravenously, jolting my body with an incredible sensation. She keeps her attention on the tip first and when she slightly raises her head just to look at me, her lips are covered in dark brown chocolate. A swipe of her tongue clears the most of the chocolate out of her lips, and I want to do that, but I restrain myself. She bites her lower lip and descends her mouth on my chocolate covered cock again. This time she slowly licks the chocolate off as if she’s licking melted ice-cream from a cone to not to let it go to waste. She finally looms down and sucks my cock to the hilt. As her mouth ascends back up to the tip, so does her hand covered in chocolate, freshly coating my cock again. My heart is racing, my toes are curling, and my eyes are rolling into the back of my head with the overwhelming and rather unexpected but extremely welcome amorous attack. Her mouth, lips, teeth and hand work tirelessly on my cock, and I build up and up, but try to hold the sensation in a little longer. As she grazes down my cock with the

slight clasp of her teeth and soothing the sting with her talented tongue, I hold the sides of the headboard; buck my hip into her mouth matching her movement. She pushes my cock to the hollow of her cheek, with suction, and pulls me in deeply inviting my come into her mouth. I reach my peak shouting, “Oh, ffffuuuck! Anaaa!” and come in large spurts into her welcoming mouth. When the sparks before my eyes subside to give way to sight, I see her smiling face, her lips and chin covered in chocolate. I sit up in a rush and come face to face with her. I take her face between my hands and possess her lips with mine, taking not asking, conquering not visiting. I taste a mingle of flavors in her mouth. Chocolate, Anastasia and me. What an intoxicating concoction!

“Mrs. Grey, now that we’ve assuaged one of your appetites, I think it’s time to satisfy others,” I murmur into her mouth as I carefully lower her onto her back. This time, I loom over her.

“Let’s see how this chocolate tastes on you.” My smile is dark and lascivious. I take the chocolate bottle and let large drops fall onto her nipples lazily slide down over her soft peaks. I make a trail leading down to her belly and partly over the junction of her waxed thighs.

“Don’t… Move…” I order distinctly. I hold her hands above her head with one of mine and lick the chocolate trailing down to her sternum making my way up over the peak. With a swipe of my tongue, I clear the chocolate, leaving a light residue behind, and suck the peak with a force that Ana bucks her hips, and spreading chocolate to my torso. Every Breath You Take - Sting

“Oh, baby, you moved,” I say grinning, and restrain her legs with mine. As my mouth moves down towards her belly button, she moans incoherently, trying to move and create a friction.

“You move when I tell you to move, baby. Slow, Ana, slow…” I say looking up from her belly button. I dip my tongue into her belly and lick the trickling chocolate. Once it’s all cleared, I seal my lips over her womb, and kiss our baby, stopping all of Anastasia’s movements, even breathing. Our gazes lock, and I let go of her hands, and then move over her sex. It’s been waxed clean. I lean down and lick over her pubic bone. Once it’s clear, I lower my lips to the blooms of her sex. My tongue slowly lapping, and dipping into her tight slit. I thrust my tongue further into her, and her hands reach my hair, and pushing her hips into my mouth, her fingers tangled in my hair pulls it hard, urging me to get her to her climax. I take my tongue out and run my stubble over her sensitive tissue, and she shrieks in delight.

“Please, Christian!” she begs. “And please you, I shall, baby…” I murmur, and suck her clit into my mouth while relentlessly pleasuring her with my tongue. As she starts building and screaming her pleasure, I dart my tongue into her sex, plunging deep, I swoop it around counter clock wise, and find her secret spot in the front wall of her vagina, giving her double orgasm.

As she is writhing in pleasure, I plunge my cock to the root, driving her into the mattress, pounding. Every slap my balls deliver to the base of her sex stimulates me even further, massaging, and coaxing. As I thrust my cock into the depths of her sex, I hold Anastasia’s buttocks and gyrate my hips, locating her sweet spot. When I further lean to capture Ana’s lips she moves down and pulls my right nipple into her mouth between her teeth and then sucks… deep and hard making my cock thicken even further in her sex. My urge to fuck her goes animalistic, and I lean down grinning, forcing her lip up to meet mine. We’re all tongue, lips, and sex, driving into each other madly. When we let go of the lips, I capture her nipple, sucking her.

“Christian, hurry!” she shouts, tipping me over the edge. We come loudly, both of us lost in pleasure, both of us sticky with chocolate and sex. Grabbing her rolling onto my

back, I let her collapse onto me. Connected, holding each other, we lie on the bed for several minutes. “I’ve missed this… I’ve missed fucking you, being inside of you, Mrs. Grey,” I say. “Making love,” she corrects me. “No matter how rough, how driven, how animalistic, it’s always making love with you, wife…always.”

*****❦ ♡ ❧***** After shower we quietly dry each other. Anastasia’s bruises are nearly gone, thank God. I slowly kneel down drying her body with a plush towel, and finally reaching down to her feet with the towel making sure she's completely dry. “Are you going to work today?” she asks. “Yes, I have work to catch up,” I say though I have quite a lot of work completed at home. Linc might be released today. I have to prepare for a battle. “I want to go to work today. I’ve missed a lot of work, too.” “I would prefer that you stay home…” I say. “Christian!” she starts protesting. “I want to work. Hyde is in jail. Elisabeth is in jail. I want to go to work. I’ll be bored to death at home,” she protests.

“You didn’t let me finish,” I say softly, rising up. When we come face to face, I lift her chin up to look at me. “…but, I will let you go to work if you follow ALL the security protocols. It’s not just about you anymore. I need to protect our baby as well,” I say my hand on her belly. “You want to keep this little blip safe, don’t you?” She nods her head, completely silent, breathless. “Then you and I have to cooperate when it comes to your safety and our baby’s…” she nods her agreement wordlessly, her eyes wide. “There’s going to be additional security at SIP…”I say and she rolls her eyes, groaning. “Baby, you have to remember that your boss, Elisabeth Morgan passed my security’s scrutiny, your judgment and we’ve completely overlooked her relationship with Hyde. There will always be others who will have ill will towards us. I’m a high profile man, unapproachable for nearly all of those people who wish me harm. But you, my lovely wife,” I say holding her face in my hand, “…you are my Achilles heel.” She frowns. “I’m not weak, Christian!” “No, baby,” I caress her cheek with the back of my hand. “No… You’re not weak. But I am when it comes to you… Can you understand that?” I ask searching her face. “You are the single most important person in the world to me. More important to me than my own life! You are my safe place. The only person that has the power to make me whole, to make me deliriously happy, madly in love, passionately angry, and the only person who holds the power in her small hands to destroy me,” I whisper. “Christian! How could you say that? Why or how would I destroy you? How could I wield such a power?” she utters emphatically with hurt. “Baby, you are easier to approach. You are my world. If you’re gone in any shape or form, I’m irrevocably destroyed. So, protecting yourself also means you’re protecting our child, and your husband,” my voice goes lower. “We’re team, Ana. How could you think I survive, if you didn’t?” She nods her head unequivocally, agreeing. “Okay. Yes, yes, to the security. But, please give me room to breathe. Because I don’t want to have the fear of asking your permission to do simple things, and not doing what you exactly want me to do in order to get a little room to breathe. And…" she says changing gears, "I also want to thank you for treating me like an adult and explaining,” she says swallowing.

There are a lot more I need to conceal from her for the time being keep her from worrying. Lincoln is a threat still to my family’s well-being.

*****❦ ♡ ❧*****

We get dressed. Anastasia chooses a charcoal grey suit for me with a crisp white shirt. She puts on her cream colored lace bra and underwear. The she sits on the bed, and makes a mouthwatering show of putting her tan color silk stockings on. When she clips them onto her garter belt, a hard swallow passes through my throat. Locating her sleeveless cream colored silk blouse with a V neck perfectly fitting her form, she puts it on and buttons them only up to the bottom of her bra. I narrow my eyes on her. She only smiles mischievously in response and then slowly, purposefully puts her pencil skirt on which matches the color of my suit. After shaping her hair into a chignon she applies lip gloss, eye liner and mascara. After rubbing and smacking her lips together, she puts her tan high heeled Louboutins on. She looks good enough to peel those clothes off and make love again!

“You don’t plan on walking out of here, with this, are you? Wife?” I ask raising my eyebrows. My index finger is tracing the lines of her silk bra. “What would you suggest, husband?” she asks batting her eyelashes innocently. “These,” I say my hand rubbing over her straining breasts, “these are mine! And so are you! Don’t forget that. I don’t want other men ogling my wife. My pregnant wife,” I whisper soft and dark. “You’d do well to button it up at least two more buttons,” I add. “Oh, Christian!” she protests. “Maybe one more. I’m yours! Everyone knows that,” she negotiates rolling her eyes. “Ok, Mrs. Grey, one more. Just as long as everyone knows you’re mine.”

*****❦ ♡ ❧***** The ride to SIP is silent. I hold Anastasia’s hand, running gentle, sensual circles inside her palm, then over her knuckles. “How do you feel?” I ask. “Good. I ate a lot at breakfast,” she says making a displeased face. “Mrs. Jones packed my lunch. I think I’m good to go. I’m looking forward to getting back to normal,” she says and I nod.

Taylor pulls in front of the SIP, putting the car on park. Sawyer jumps out and opens Ana’s door as Taylor opens my door. I step out of the car, and walk behind the SUV in sure strides and hold my wife’s hand. Sawyer follows us a few steps back discreetly. Coming to SIP’s door, I pull her to me, and kiss her with all I’ve got. Nearly losing her, first thinking she was leaving me, and then thinking she died, and finally seeing her in the hospital in a comatose state, permanently and conclusively changed me. Carpe Diem. I want to take every opportunity to kiss her, love her and declare to everyone that this woman is my wife! Mine and mine alone! When she’s thoroughly kissed and breathless, I hold her hand again, and walk her into the building. “Welcome back Ana!” greets the African-American receptionist. Her large hoops of earring are dangling as she stands up rushing to Ana to give her a hug, taking her completely by surprise. Ana returns her hug with one hand as her other hand is firmly held in mine. “Soooo glad to see you well! Oh, hello Mr. Grey!” she says, her eyes widening. Finally, I manage to take Ana into her small office with ‘welcome backs’ and other well wishes. But of course, every single one of these employees are have already been thoroughly checked and examined. The security Welch has put in SIP are as good as Sawyer. Their job is to watch Ana, and tightly examine each and every visitor. They’re the first line of defense to Anastasia. Hearing the commotion, Roach comes out. Seeing me in the building, his eyes widen, and with hasty steps he approaches me. “Mr. Grey! How nice to see you. Is Ana back?” “Yes, she is back today.” “Would you like to sit down, sir?” “No, I just came to drop my wife off.” “If there’s anything…” “Not at the moment, Roach,” I say, nodding to Sawyer, I walk out. “Examine all the employees who wish to have contact with Ana. Other editors, staffers, clients, everyone. Stay close to her, and let me know if anything, I do mean ANYTHING,” I say emphasizing, “…is suspicious, different, or unexpected approaches Mrs. Grey to if she intends to do anything of that nature,” I order.

“Yes, sir.” When I get back to the SUV, Taylor lets me in the car and closes the door behind me. His eyes meet mine on the rear-view mirror. I raise my eyebrows questioning. “Welch called. He’s at the Grey House with two of your lawyers. Lincoln has been released on $250,000 bail this morning,” he states. “Anything else?” I ask with carefully reined anger. “Yes, three of Welch’s men are on stakeout 24/7 following his every move,” he says as he puts the SUV in gear and eases into the morning traffic.

*****❦ ♡ ❧***** “Mr. Grey! How nice to see you, sir!” Andrea greets me. “Thank you Andrea. Where are they?” I ask. “I thought it would be best to put them in Meeting Room 1, but if you wish I can send them to your office. What would you prefer?” “Send them into my office in ten minutes.” “Yes, sir. Would you like me to go over your schedule now, or after you’re done with your meeting?” “After would be fine.” I turn my computer on, and sit in my leather executive chair. Andrea’s disembodied voice alerts me of my company. “Send them in Andrea,” I say, the back of my chair turned to the door. My gaze is fixed on the city of Seattle. I hear the door close behind me. Someone clears his throat. “Sit down gentlemen,” I say. “Taylor,” I hear Welch’s short greeting. “Welch,” he responds with a greeting of his own, equal in its cool.

I turn my chair around to meet three curious gazes, two of which are anxious except for Welch. “What have you got for me this morning?” I ask turning my gaze to the lawyer who fucked up with Hyde’s release. “Mr. Grey,” he starts clearing his throat, the swallowing. “Mr. Lincoln has been released this morning on $250,000 bail. We have of course made every attempt to prevent his release. The two security guards who have been seriously injured have filed complaints, and we have made it very clear to the judge that if Mr. Lincoln is released on bail, he has the potential of harming others as he has harmed two security guards who were only doing their jobs. His attorneys argued that the Mr. Lincoln experienced extenuating circumstance with a hostile takeover of his company and was in a complete shock. He thought he was going to his own company where he was the CEO and finding resistance from the security guards when they tried to prevent his access, his lawyers argued that Lincoln went into temporary insanity.” I look at Welch. Raise my eyebrows wordlessly, questioning whether he was at the hearing. “Yes, sir I was there,” he replies gives me an imperceptible nod confirming what the lawyer is saying. My lawyers Trent Baxter who is still on my shit-list and Larry Hodge look surprised. “How did you rebuttal Lincoln’s lawyer’s statement?” I say in a menacingly soft voice, the focus of my piercing gaze is singularly located on Baxter. He shifts in his seat uncomfortably. Then Hodge clears his throat. “If you allow me Mr. Grey, I’ve made that argument. I argued that Mr. Lincoln is not the owner of Lincoln Timber, but the CEO even if the company that bears his name. It has been a public entity for the last 15 years. For him to claim it as his own would be fallacious. In business world companies and stocks are traded and it should not be a shock to Mr. Lincoln that a publicly traded company will have buyers and the ownership of it will change daily. That’s the nature of corporate business. Understanding this fact, Mr. Lincoln has made the company public, offering ALL of its stock for sale fifteen years ago, and appointing himself as the CEO. The outcome of such an act should not surprise Mr. Lincoln, because has made the decision to forego of the entitlements the ownership of a private company, in return accepting a position only as a CEO, and the governing board has the power to vote a

CEO out of a job even if the company wasn't sold. These are all written in the corporate charter which he signed. Therefore, it was not a temporary insanity problem Mr. Lincoln experienced, but a severe anger management issue which left two security guards with broken limbs and bones who will take weeks if not months to recover.” “His lawyer argued that in due process, if the governing board voted the CEO out, Mr. Lincoln would have to be informed face to face; they argued that he was fired without an agreed on communication plan. They said that he had not even received a phone call.” “What did you say to that?” “He said,” Welch says looking at Larry, “your honor, Mr. Lincoln isn’t fired. He’s still the CEO. A lot of the decisions in regards to the purchase and inclusion of Lincoln Timber is still under gag order. Therefore I’m not at liberty to discuss the details per the provisions of those laws governing that business transaction. But what I can tell you is that Mr. Lincoln should have contacted his new boss, Mr. Christian Grey as opposed to beating the security guards an inch of their lives.’ Then of course, Lincoln’s face changed, he jumped to his feet, his shackles and cuffs jangling and shouted, ‘who the fuck did you say?’ Guess he didn’t know for sure that it was you who fucked him over. His face was priceless, by the way. The judge called the court to order and severely reprimanded Lincoln’s lawyer to restrain his client. Then Lincoln shouted that such information was to be told to him face to face, and not over the phone or not in the mail. But Baxter here,” says Welch jabbing his thumb in Baxter’s direction, “…said that Lincoln never gave the due process a chance. The certified mail just arrived that very day which of course the final day of the waiting period, and the land wasn’t even owned by us anymore, but by two other companies. In truth, it wasn't even our business to tell him anyway. Lincoln was meddling into the other companies’ business dealings.’ ‘I am the CEO of Lincoln Timber!’ he shouted, and of course the Judge was pretty pissed by then and said his lawyers better restrain their client for the last time, if he has another outburst like that he will be removed from the courtroom. And Baxter here said that Mr. Lincoln did not lose his job at all. He was still the CEO of Lincoln Timber and he needed to confer with his new boss, namely you, sir,” Welch finishes. “What did the judge order?” I ask, Welch continues.

“Before the judge could order anything, Lincoln jumped up, and his lawyers stood up on both sides, trying to force him down back to his seat, and being cuffed and shackled he shoved them both, and tried to lunge forward towards your lawyers. The bailiff ran and a couple of them tackled Lincoln down as he was still writhing and struggling. They removed him from the courtroom, of course. The judge saw firsthand that he was having anger management issues. After he was removed, and his lawyers cleaned themselves up, then the judge ordered the asshole, I mean, Mr. Lincoln to go through an intensive anger management course and the reports were to be submitted to the court as well as go through a psychiatric evaluation to see if he has other issues as his attorneys claimed to get a treatment…” Baxter cuts into the conversation and says, “This outburst of behavior is precisely what will aid us, sir. Because we can claim that Mr. Lincoln is unfit to make healthy management decisions and therefore it is better if he stepped down from his position as the CEO of Lincoln Timber which of course is a company no longer exists. He will come here this afternoon as Mr. Welch has indicated,” he says and starts babbling on how his research over the weekend, which was time away from his plans of sailing with his family. And all his efforts now gave us the glowing results he managed to pull through this morning. “Stop! Talking!” I order in a dangerous, but clear voice resonating through my office. Even though I’m not shouting, and my voice is in a soft tone, it is unmistakably commanding and dominating. Baxter stops immediately. I turn my face to Welch. “He’s due here at 1:30 p.m. today.” “Got the paperwork?” I ask Larry. Baxter clears his throat again. “I prepared them for you on Sunday, sir,” he says extending a large folder. “I went over the corporate charter and the clauses to fire the CEO. The rules state…” he starts. “I know what the corporate charter contains Baxter. I am well aware of the clauses Lincoln has put in to cover his ass. The new clauses indicated that they didn’t foresee a revenue growth until 2014 due to the global recession, and if he was fired for not turning a corporate profit, he would have to have his lawyers waiting for him.

If he was being fired for reasons other than profit, then that would have to be sexual harassment, specter of a bad PR, or facing allegations of expense fraud. It doesn’t even have to be proven. It just has to be a substantial allegation. I have PROOF!” I say and slam my folder down to my mahogany table making both Baxter and Larry jump. “I have the paper trail and not just an allegation. What I want you to draft now is a strong separation agreement so that if he takes another job I can live with it and he will never get to sue me or ask for a settlement. Put in the breach clauses. Should he breach the agreement, then he agrees to the financial penalties without argument or refusal.” Both Baxter and Larry look dumbfounded. They blink for a minute wordlessly, their mouths agape with identical facial expressions. “Close your mouths,” says Welch, shaking his head. “It’ll take me at least until late tomorrow to draft it and it might not even be ready by Wednesday, uhm, sir,” babbles Baxter.

“You have until 1 p.m. today. You two better get to it then. I don’t care how you do it. My assistant can provide you one of the meeting rooms to work in. Call your assistants; get it done on time, by not one minute later than 1:00 p.m. today, gentlemen!” “Mr. Grey, it’s a bit complicated…” wrings Baxter his hands. “You see, I’m due in court this afternoon, and I was going to attend a dinner by the Washington Bar Association.” “Apparently I’m not making myself clear… Baxter!” I hiss leaning on my table, my hand splayed. He takes an involuntary step back. “I was hoping that there was a whole

brain between the two of you. I don’t want, need or care for your excuses. I don’t give a shit about your next court schedule, or who you will rub elbows with tonight, or what school function your brood is going to have that you absolutely must attend!” I exhale through my flaring nostrils. My eyes are focused on Baxter. “I’m asking you one God damned task!” I shout only loud enough as I slam both my fists on the table. “You will complete this task today by the appointed time without excuses, without a single letter out of place, and on time. Welch, clearly they can’t do anything without being baby sat! I need you to look over every fucking detail they write, and bring it to me before the fucker arrives. Do you have any excuses Larry?” I ask my senior attorney. “No, sir. I never did,” he says giving Baxter a dirty look for getting him in trouble. “I have no problem completing the contract and then some.” “Very well. Do it!” As Welch herds out the now skittish Baxter, huffing Larry who is still scowling at his associate, Taylor suppresses a smile and trains his gaze on the lamp directly in his line of vision. I sit back in my chair, and Andrea comes into the office with her tablet. “Mr. Grey, is now a good time to go over your schedule?” “Yes, let’s.” “Since, you said that you weren’t absolutely sure if you were coming today, there’s one scheduled meeting after lunch, and Ros would like to have a meeting with you over lunch. I also e-mailed you design schematics from the engineering team for the wind-up technology with a solar back-up…” she says and I raise my eyebrows interested. “They were looking to schedule a meeting this week. Shall I put a meeting in the agenda, sir?” “Tomorrow perhaps, sometime in the morning. I might not be available in the afternoon,” I say thoughtful. “Get me an appointment with Dr. Flynn tomorrow afternoon after business hours, five p.m.” “If he’s not available, is there any other day you wish to make the appointment?” What the hell is this today? All of a sudden, I have to accommodate others.

“No, Andrea! I want my appointment at five p.m. tomorrow evening. Not 4:55 not 5:05 p.m. 5:00 pm. Got it? That’s the only slot I want. And the only way there won’t be any appointment tomorrow is if Dr. Flynn is dead,” I order with my gaze fixed on her. “My apologies, sir. Of course. Five p.m. at Dr. Flynn’s office.” I pay Flynn a small fortune to be accommodating and available. I have not had an appointment with him in the last few weeks. He can fucking accommodate me! “Is there anything else I can do for you sir?” “That would be all.” Andrea retreats from my office quickly like a rat running away from a sinking ship. As soon as Andrea leaves, I dial Anastasia’s number. She answers after six rings. The late reply momentarily concerns me. Just before her voice mail picks up, she responds in a breathy voice. “Helloo?” “Ana! Are you alright?” She clears her throat, and takes a gulp of something. Water? “Yes, I am. I had something to eat, but it didn’t agree with me, and well, just came back from the bathroom. I rushed through my door to get to the phone, and I nearly stumbled on my heels.” “What?” I say standing up. Taylor is alert. I shake my head. “Calm down. I didn’t fall down. When I heard your ring tone, I was anxious to talk to you. I’ve missed you today.” “I missed you too, baby,” I whisper. “Listen, Christian. I talked to Ray this morning, and he said he is going to be discharged this afternoon. I wanted to leave early at maybe 3:30 and see him before he leaves.” “Ana, I’ll come with you. Or rather, I’ll meet you at the hospital. I have a meeting this afternoon. I’ll leave as soon as I’m done with it. Who’s taking Ray back to Montesano?” “Jose and Mr. Rodriguez,” she responds softly.

I remain quiet for thirty seconds. “Are you mad?” she asks. “Truth?” “That would be nice." “Well, I'm not mad, however I’m always jealous of my wife, but I’ll deal,” I respond. “Oh, Christian. I’m yours, and I love you. You have nothing to be jealous about. You are my husband and the father of our baby,” she says emphatically. And somehow the knowledge, the proof of my possession, our baby is more than welcome if she gets to see Jose Rodriguez this evening. “Yes, I am. Okay, I’ll see you after my meeting. I love you.” “I love you too, Christian.” “And Ana…” “Yes?” “Sawyer comes with you everywhere. Lunch in the office.” “Oh, Christian. I just puked my lunch out. I might have to go to the deli and get something else to eat.” “Remember to go with Sawyer!” “Yes, Sir!” she says exasperated. “I know you’re rolling your eyes,” I whisper. She giggles in response. “I know you do, Mr. Grey. Hang up now. I’ve got tons of work to do before I go to the hospital.” “No, you first.” “You know I don’t want to,” she says giggling. “I’ve missed you already, Ana.”

“I’ve missed you too, husband. But…” but we’re interrupted by her intercom. “Ana, Mr. Roach would like to talk to you. Could you pick up line 1 please?” “Guess I have to go. My boss is calling.” “What the hell does he want?” “I won’t know until I pick up the phone, Christian. I’ll see later at the hospital. I love you!” “I love you, too. Bye baby.” “Bye!” she says and we both hang up at the same time. Jose Rodriguez… Ironically, I don’t feel as insecure about his presence near my wife at the hospital. There is a certain sense of ease in me. I am absolutely sure of my wife’s love for me, and we have the blip to prove it. Our blip. Not Rodriguez’s. Ours… Ana’s and mine. “Mr. Grey? Ros is here sir,” Andrea’s disembodied voice calls, bringing me out of my self-pep-talk. “Send her in!” Fifteen seconds later Ros walks through the door. “Hi, Christian! Welcome back. How’s Ana?” “She’s well, thank you. Also back to work today.” “I thought we’d discuss strategy when you do the honors of firing Mr. Lincoln’s very violent ass.” “You talked to the lawyers?” “Talked to them? I was at the court this morning. I wanted to take notes. I think the firing was going to come, and I wanted to assess and measure the man myself.” “And what’s your conclusion?” I ask curiously.

“Infuriated but controlled, domineering and calculating. But the biggest kicker was when he heard your name, he had the look of a deer in the headlights; completely blindsided which changed in an instant to something I had never seen before. Pure, absolute hatred which makes him extremely dangerous, Christian. He reined in his temper which was in a flash. I’ve never seen anyone to go from full blown rage into a placid face; like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.” I will have to keep Lincoln under tight scrutiny to prevent him causing any harm to my family. “He’s Jekyll alright. Hyde’s ass is already in jail.” “What?” “Nothing…Let’s just go to lunch, and discuss the strategy,” I say, and Taylor opens the door for us.

*****❦ ♡ ❧***** We are back at exactly 12:55. The lawyers are ready with the contract I asked them to draft. “Ros, let’s go over the items on the contact,” I say. She takes a chair pulling it up next to me and in the next twenty minutes, we go over each item on the contract. Feeling satisfied with the outcome, she takes one of the copies in the folder. Andrea walks in: “Mr. Grey your next meeting has arrived. I’ve taken them into the Meeting Room 3, sir.” “How many of them?” “Mr. Lincoln and two of his lawyers, sir.” “Showtime, Ros,” I say and exit my office flanked by Ros and Taylor. My lawyers and Welch are waiting outside my office. We open the door to the Meeting Room 3, and Lincoln is pacing the room as his lawyers are situated in their seats looking extremely uncomfortable. Their demeanor changes as we enter into the room.

Lincoln’s gaze gets colder and colder when he sees me. His eyes are solely focused on me. We are two predators caged in the same environment. “Welcome everyone, please be seated,” Ros says pleasantly as my group take their seats except Taylor and Welch. They take the opposite sides of the door in a guarding position. Lincoln takes note of their stance. “I don’t have to listen to a cunt!” hisses Lincoln. “Well, shut your mouth up so you don’t have to hear yourself Mr. Lincoln. Seat yourself,” says Ros still smiling. Linc’s gaze and mine are locked, and both of our stares are filled with rage, and animosity towards each other. “So, you stole my company out under me and you think you can get away with it?” he hisses. “Mr. Lincoln?” warns his lawyer. He shoves his lawyer's arm. “You have not had a company for the last 15 years. It was a public company where you were the CEO,” I say calm and controlled, exerting all my faculties to rein in my temper. I want to fucking beat the shit out of him. But I will not give him the satisfaction of breaking down and giving into my anger. A dominant knows how to manage that anger. “However, since last week after your violent outbursts where you harmed my employees on my land…” I say but he cuts me off. “Your land! Your land?? Are you fucking insane? It’s been my land since my grandfather! It’s my company’s land!” he shouts, trembling in his spot. “Mr. fucking Lincoln! Let me remind you again since it doesn’t seem to register in your brain that you have not owned the company in the last 15 years. It hasn't been yours to begin with.” The words are out of my lips like a poisonous hiss. “I cannot in good conscience continue to employ you Mr. Lincoln. Hospitalizing two of my company's employees, combined with today’s outbursts at the court, you have proven that you have anger management issues and possibly manic episodes or schizophrenia which would be detrimental for a high level officer in my company; a risk we are not willing to take. You are fucking fired Mr. Lincoln!” “How dare you?! How dare you fire me! How dare you sell my fucking company I worked so hard for?”

Woke up This Morning - Alabama

“I dare Mr. Lincoln. You stirred the hornet’s nest! You fuck with me, I will make sure you are impotent to never to fuck with anyone else again!” “You sold my company!” he shouts! "My fucking heritage!" “I sold a company where I owned the majority of the stocks; a company from which you stole nearly $54 million Dollars! What have you done with the investors’ money, Lincoln?” He pales with the accusation, but quickly composes himself. “You have no proof of that!” he says, but his voice is hesitant, knowing well that he has embezzled. “Oh, I have plenty of proof. IRS is eager to hear stashed away money in various off shore accounts, and I can’t wait to see the look on your face when the Feds indict your ass and put you away for a very long time!” “You fucking dare to threaten me? Who do you think you are, prick! Who do you think you are? You are nothing! Do you hear me? You are fucking nothing! Less than nothing. Do you think the clothes you wear make you a man? Well, do you? You are absolutely NOTHING, son of a whore fucked by countless johns, a pathetic adopted bastard! All you will ever be is nothing!” Everyone's mouth drops open including his lawyers'. Taylor's body shifts toward Lincoln ready to attack any moment. These lines might have worked on my insecurities a week ago, but not today. I have a wife who is in love with me and we are expecting our child. My parents love me; my sister and brother love me. I am a fucking happy man, who is an orphan no longer. When he sees no change in my face, he gets even more furious. He tries to lunge forward. “Guess that's all you got," I say calmly. I take a relaxed breath, though I'm anything but. "Lincoln, I’m giving you one and only option that will be offered to you today and the time is now. This get out of jail free clause will never be offered to you again. Ever! If you sign a contract firing yourself from the Lincoln Timber and you will not be turned over to the Feds, the IRS not to mention the investors who put their money and trust in your sticky hands. I will make sure that every penny I make from the sale of each single timber, plywood, land, asset of Lincoln Timber that your grandfather has established, your legacy as you put it is dedicated prosecuting you to the highest extent of law and make sure that you will never see a free day again for the rest of your pathetic life!”

“Mr. Grey, your accusations of Mr. Lincoln is baseless! We’ve come here to fulfill the judge’s request today…” his lawyer starts. “Shut up Wazowski!” hisses Lincoln without even looking at him. His gaze is locked on me alone. His custom tailored Alexander Amosu suit moves with his body as if he’s born in it. I know his suit alone to be well over $17,000. It’s custom fit, and the fabric is hand selected. I have three similar suits. Amosu’s prices start at £3,500 and his most expensive suite is just under $900,000. Lincoln has probably his most expensive ensemble on him today because he clearly wants to establish his supremacy in every possible way. He wants to look like million bucks, outshine, and outdo me. But that tactic wouldn’t work on me. I can outdo him in my birthday suit.

“Mr. Lincoln, I suggest you sit down sir,” says his second lawyer silently urging him to calm down. “Get out!” he hisses under his breath. “What? Sir, we are looking out for your interest here.” “I said get the fuck out!” he shouts slowly losing his battle to his rage. My presence is tipping his carefully restrained menace.

“Mr. Lincoln! Roger!” says the older attorney. “Think carefully. Speak carefully…” he says in a voice a little louder than a whisper. “Tom, you have been my attorney and a friend for twenty five years. But right now, I don’t give a shit about either one of that. Get your fucking ass out of this room!” he hisses with pure malice in his voice. He spares his glance at his friend and not even a hair softens in his demeanor. “This is my oooold ffffrienddddd, aren’t you Christian?” he enunciates slowly, a predatory grin overtakes his lips, showing his large, whitened teeth as his eyes try to exert his will and supremacy on me. In that glance I can see that there’s nearly nothing human on his face. He is finally laying all his cards on the table. “Yes, we go waaay back to a time when he was nothing… Less than nothing, a drunken teenager who slept with another man’s wife to cover his costly addictions who perhaps gave you the alcohol money?” he asks raising his eyebrows. My gaze trains on him. Rage, fury rises in me. I can strangle this fucker, but that’s exactly what he wants. I won’t give into his will. This is his way of demanding submission from me even in the presence of a roomful of people. “I don’t doubt one minute that you would also sleep with that woman’s husband as long as your needs were met!” Taylor stiffens, every muscle in his body is trained on Lincoln; barely restraining himself ready to attack, waiting for my command. He looks at me, and my gaze says 'no'. “Wow! I know that losing to someone in business and in life in every fucking aspect this spectacularly must be killing you,” I enunciate as I rise up like a predator from my seat, “Mr. Lincoln. To someone who is nearly half your age, someone who isn’t even 30… To think that you envied my abilities since I was a teenager in some sick fantasy, seeing my potential to overtake your useless life in an imaginary jealousy is simply unbelievable. You have created your own self-fulfilling prophecy. After all, I AM your superior, your boss, your god, the man who is better in every fucking thing you can ever dream of achieving! I am the man who holds your fate in his hands… Do you really want to cross me, Lincoln?” I hiss in a malicious tone, arching my eyebrows, and take three confident, arrogant, and domineering steps towards him. “But, I don’t know whether to congratulate you, or sue you in a libel suit and take the $54 million bucks you stole, for making these colorful accusations created in your very vivid imagination, Mr. Lincoln. I am now convinced more than ever that you also need to be locked into a mental institution. We have plenty of witnesses here.”

“You stole my company!” he shouts. “I bought the company which you made public fifteen years ago. Anyone can buy it! It’s perfectly legal. You, you made it public!” I raise my voice pointing an accusatory finger. “So, in all your years in business, it never occurred to you that someone someday might come and buy it when you so made it available for purchase? And now you come and make fantastic accusations because I own your ass, lot, stock and barrel! I’m a businessman Mr. Lincoln. I was aware of the fact that one of the companies where I own large stocks, a company that should be doing well is simply was not generating enough return. Then I discover that there are large sums of money being embezzled by none other than you…” As angry as Lincoln gets, he never mentions paying for Hyde’s bail. It’s the giant shit colored elephant no one talks about. I’m not about to give him the evidence and make him aware of what else I have over his head. But, I have every intention of making him suffer the way he made me suffer by causing harm to my wife and sister! He doesn’t want to incriminate himself here. He has that control and I can see it in every carefully chosen word he utters no matter how impromptu or how personal he may sound. What he wants is to get me riled up, lose my cool, and attack him so that he has something to hold over me both for when we are alone and in public; that's his tactic to get me submit to his provocation. I wouldn’t be surprised if he lay down, remain motionless and let me beat the shit out of him just to get me arrested. I will never give him that satisfaction, or the control. I will beat the shit out of him alright, but in at a time and a place of my own choosing. Not in video feed, and in the sight of many witnesses. He wants revenge; I’ll give him revenge my way. “I don’t look kindly on being robbed in broad daylight, Mr. Lincoln. I have the money trail. All I have to do is just leak it to Seattle Time, and I can guarantee you that all the investors you’ve had over the years will come to devour you faster than Great White sharks!” Lincoln grits his teeth so forcefully, everyone can hear the noise. His attorneys are half sitting and half getting up to leave the room for the last three minutes, somehow unable to move from their positions. “What the fuck do you want after you sold my entire fucking company right under my dick?” he shouts. I grin knowing I got him in the submissive position.

“I want you to fire yourself! The corporate charter states that even the allegation of expense fraud is enough reason for me to fire you. I have proof, not just allegation! I want you to sign the separation agreement. I will have control over where and when you have a job next time. You will agree to all of the breach clauses. Should you breach the agreement my lawyers have drafted, then you agree to the financial penalties without argument or refusal,” I state. "I thought you were already firing me! Why are you asking me to do it?" he asks. "I think you know the answer to that Mr. Lincoln," I say with an impassive gaze. I want the pleasure of seeing him end his own career. My revenge. “If I don’t?” he ask with murderous malice. “If you don’t, I promise you that you will be back to the jail in short enough time to make it there for dinner…” I remain silent for twenty seconds to let that sink in. “After you sign the papers today, if you ever, ever cross my path, or get involved in anything that would directly or indirectly cause harm to anyone I know,” I say my gaze getting serious, and his with a triumphant glint, “I will not question you, take you to court, or have a civilized meeting like this. Even if you were to dream about causing harm to anyone I know, if they sneeze because you coughed on them, I promise that the day you saw your company sold piece by fucking piece compared to what I will do to you was holiday in the Hamptons.” “I want to keep my personal assets!” he hisses. “What more do you want? You’ve taken all of my company!” “For the last time: It was not your company to begin with. Not for the last 15 years. I will promise nothing. You deserve no favors! Your personal assets are monies stolen from what is rightfully mine now. This is non-negotiable. You either take the deal I give you, or I will fucking make sure that every penny earned from your granddaddy’s company is spent on prosecuting you to the fullest extent of the law!” “I’ll sign. But this isn’t over Grey!” he hisses. Before I can say, “A threat?” Taylor, blindsides him and hits him under the jaw, and crosses both his arms into a submissive position, slamming him down to the table, making everyone jump except for me and Welch. “I am Mr. Grey’s bodyguard. Any implied threat is taken seriously, Mr. Lincoln,” Taylor hisses to his ear. “Do you want me to escort this asshole to the sheriff’s deputies,

Mr. Grey? The judge already knows his fucking anger management issues and mental instability to making this fucker a menace to society. In light of the recent events, this will not be taken lightly at the court, sir. He can keep his girlfriend Hyde in company.” “I said I’ll sign!” Lincoln says in a muffled voice, his face pressed down on to the table. “Let him sign.” Taylor shoves him, and stands only two feet behind Lincoln. Baxter stands up and gives a copy to Lincoln and a copy each to his lawyers. Lincoln goes over each page, reading, initialing and signing as directed by Baxter. His lawyers sign witnessing his signature. All three of the documents are signed and notarized before witnesses. Check mate! “Show yourselves out!” I say as I turn on my heels leaving the room with Taylor following behind me. As Taylor closes the door behind him, he asks, “Where to sir?” “To the hospital to see Ray.” Taylor nods and presses the call button of the elevator with a rare smile.

CHAPTER X Undefeated Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul… William Earnest Henley

I call Anastasia on the way to the hospital. The phone rings, but she doesn’t answer. She always answers the phone. Concern, coupled with my meeting with Lincoln and his lawyers makes me uneasy immediately. I hang up without leaving a message and dial again. Still no answer. Fuck! Where is she? Is something wrong with Ray? With her?

“Taylor, did Sawyer call you?” “No, sir. But he did text me stating he’s taking Mrs. Grey to the hospital about an hour ago,” he says his eyes meeting mine in the rear-view mirror. My concern is reflected in his eyes. I dial Sawyer’s phone. It too rings and no one answers, and goes to voice mail. “Where the hell are you and why aren’t you answering your phone?” I hiss and hang up. “What time did you get Sawyer’s text?” I ask Taylor. “About 10 minutes to 3, sir.” I dial the hospital since I have made calls to check on Ray’s condition. “Good afternoon…” the nurse starts. “This is Christian Grey. I want to know if Ray Steele checked out of the hospital today.” “I’m sorry sir, we don’t give information on patients over the phone to those who are not next of kin,” she replies curtly. “Nurse, get the doctor in charge of Ray Steele on the phone immediately. I am his son in-law, and am the one who is paying for his care. I am the next of kin!” I shout. “No need to shout, sir. I’m getting Dr. Polanski. Hold please,” she says and puts me on hold. “Step on it Taylor!” I order nervously. “Yes, sir,” he responds and I’m pushed back into my seat with the acceleration. “Good afternoon, this is Dr. Polanski,” a female voice comes over the phone. “Dr. Polanski, did Ray Steele check out this afternoon?” I ask without a preamble. “And you are?” “Christian Grey!” I reply exasperated.

“Mr. Grey, yes, Mr. Steele has been discharged about fifteen minutes ago,” she says. I hear her shuffling papers, probably checking the records. “Was Mrs. Grey with her?” “I believe so, Mr. Grey,” she replies as Taylor turns into the hospital parking lot, tires screeching. We come to halt in front of the hospital entrance. “I’ll drop you off, and meet you in a few minutes, sir,” Taylor says. He opens the door, and I jump out quickly entering into the hospital. “Hello? Mr. Grey?” the doctor says filling the silence. “Is that all you need to know, Mr. Grey?” “Is it possible that Mr. Steele might still be on the hospital ground?” “I’m not sure sir. We gave Mr. Steele’s discharge papers, and I left his room. He may have left the hospital. His ride was there to take him home.” “Thanks,” I say and hear an incoming phone. I switch the lines hanging up on the doctor. “Where the hell have you been? And why weren’t you answering your phone?” I shout with acrimony. “I’m sorry Mr. Grey. When Mrs. Grey was in her father’s room, she felt ill suddenly and was throwing up, shaking violently which concerned everyone in the room, so I just swooped her up and rushed her into her doctor’s office immediately. Your phone call came right when I was trying to get Mrs. Grey into Dr. Greene’s office.” “What?! What’s wrong with my wife?” I shout. “When Mr. Steele was given his discharge papers and his doctor was gone, one minute she was talking to her dad and the next minute she got queasy and tried to rush to the bathroom but she was vomiting on the way already. Mr. Rodriguez tried to help her because Mrs. Grey seemed to have gotten weak suddenly, but she told him that she didn’t need help, that she was just getting a cold and didn’t want to spread her germs. Of course nobody bought that and they all looked extremely concerned. Just when she stood of telling everyone she was okay, she started dry heaving and doubled over at which time I lifted Mrs. Grey off the floor. They were already calling a nurse, and Mrs. Grey said that her dad should leave home and that she would be okay. Mr. Steele

looked very concerned but didn’t argue with her, but Mr. Jose Rodriguez, Junior, wanted to stay with Mrs. Grey while he sent Mr. Steele home with his dad.” “Well, did he stay?” “Well, Mrs. Grey insisted that he should drive her father since neither Mr. Rodriguez senior nor Mr. Steele weren’t in the best shape to drive. She reassured him that I would take her home, and you were coming. And she said she was okay.” “Where is my Ana now?” “She’s being tended by Dr. Greene right now. I just walked out of her office to call you, sir.” “Okay.” “It’s on the second floor. Take a right after you get off the elevators. Go through the corridor, and when the hallway comes to a fork, take left. Her office is the third door on your right. You can’t miss it. I’m waiting outside, sir.” “Thank you, Sawyer,” I reply surprising him. “Mr. Grey?” “Yes.” “I should remind you, sir. Mr. Rodriguez, junior is also waiting by the door.” “What the fuck? I thought he was supposed to drive Ray back to Montesano!” “That’s what I thought, but I think Mr. Steele is still waiting in his room until they have the word that Mrs. Grey is well. It appears that they didn’t buy her ‘I have a cold’ story. Apparently they were initially concerned that it was related to her concussion which is why they called a nurse for her despite her protests. Mrs. Grey told them that she has a doctor at the hospital and I could take her there which I did. But Mr. Jose Rodriguez must have followed us. When I came out, there he was standing by the door, agitated, nervous, and completely upset trying to question me about Mrs. Grey’s well-being.” I impatiently tap the elevator’s call button. By the time it dings open, I’m ready to take the stairs. People coming out of the elevator see me seething with anger, nearly snarling on the phone; they give me a wide berth as they leave the elevator and quickly distance themselves from me. As soon as I get up on the second floor, I follow Sawyer’s

directions and find Dr. Greene’s office. When I see Sawyer, he nods his greeting. My lips are set to a grim line. “Christian!” Jose Rodriguez says, not in a greeting, but in an accusing, confrontational tone. “Jose,” I respond but I don’t want to waste my time with him. As soon as my hand reaches to the door handle, his hand captures my left forearm. My eyes move down to his hand grasping my forearms over my jacket. As if my gaze burnt his hand, he immediately retracts his fingers. “What?” I hiss. “What’s wrong with Ana?” he asks. “Nothing’s wrong with her!” I say making a move to go forward. “Fucking bullshit! Don’t lie to me man! Her dad is concerned and waiting in his room. She was so violently sick; she couldn’t even make it to the bathroom. She almost puked all over her old man! If I didn’t hold her up, she’d be all over the floor face down in her own puke. Clearly she hasn’t healed from her concussion! Why the hell would you allow her to go back to work when she just got out of the hospital and still sick as a dog? It’s not like you need the money!” He hisses accusingly. Next Contestant - Nickelbacks

“Are you quite done with your accusations?” “I have not even started yet!” he gets in my face determined. Seeing my explosive stare, he takes half a step back, but forces himself to hold his ground. “My wife is an editor. She’s not plowing fields for God’s sake and she’s the one who wanted to go back to work which her doctor approved!” “You didn’t see her ten minutes ago! One minute she was talking, and then the next minute she was green on the gills, and tripping on her own feet trying to make it to the bathroom! She couldn’t even get passed Ray’s bed before she started spewing Mount Vesuvius! Once she was done painting Ray’s room’s floors with the contents of her stomach, she was dry heaving and would have been doubled up on the floor if I didn’t pull her up! And then she tried to tell us that it was just a common cold! We knew she doesn’t have a cold. She had no cold symptoms when she walked in. She looked completely fine. We told the nurse that came in she had been in the hospital only a

week ago with a fractured skull and concussion! And your man here,” he says raising his voice as he’s pointing an accusatory finger in Sawyer’s direction, “said that she has a doctor here, and without a word to her father’s concerned questions, he picked her up off the floor and carried her here!” “There’s nothing wrong with her, or at least there was nothing wrong when she left this morning, or when I talked to her this afternoon. If my wife is feeling ill, it’s my job to go and find out about it, and you’re holding me up here!” “You’re no good for her, man!” he hisses with animosity. “What the fuck did you just say, Junior? That woman in there is my wife, and I love her!” I hiss in a dangerously low voice taking a step in his direction. “Ever since she’s met you, she's changed! Like she has to ask your permission for every little thing does. You may love her, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re no good for her! She nearly got beaten to death by your enemies, and you let her go back to work when she’s not even fully recovered from her concussion!” “She’s not sick because of her concussion!” “Are you sure about that, Mr. ‘I-love-her’? How could you be? You didn’t see the fear in her dad’s face when she doubled over and when your security guard whisked her out in his arms before the nurse could take a look at her. What the hell are you hiding from her loved ones? Did the injuries she sustained in the hands of your fucking enemies leave her permanently damaged?” he accuses again, and I’ve had all I can take it. I push Rodriguez into the walk with such a force that his head bobs and hits the wall and restrain him by pressing my right forearm over his neck and I use the strength of my legs to restrain the rest of his body. I see Sawyer’s eyes widen from the peripheral vision, and I hear a pair of footsteps rushing in our direction. It’s Taylor. “You’re going to restrain me because I worry about my friend more than her husband should?” he says, his voice choking as my arm is pressing down on his throat. He makes his best effort to try to push me away. “For your information asshole, my wife isn’t sick because of the injuries she sustained. They’re healed! She’s sick because she’s pregnant with our child!” “What?!!” Jose whispers as if I punched him. He stops struggling for a minute and I ease my grip on him, taking a step back.

“She wanted to wait until it was 12 weeks. That’s why we didn’t want to tell anyone! It’s probably morning sickness.” Jose tries to gather himself for a few minutes completely dumbstruck, his chest is heaving up and down in rapid succession. A string of emotions outplay on his gaze. His eyes widen with some conclusion he’s reached and his face turns into snarl. “You sicko! You knocked her up already? She’s barely 22! What? The second you met her, you wooed Ana with your money, and didn’t even let the girl have a breath on her own until you moved her in with you, and then to keep her for good, you got her pregnant! Fuck you! Were you that afraid that she wasn’t going to stay with you, so you had to knock her up to tie her up to you for good with your brat? Tell me, did she marry you because you knocked her up?” he shouts accusingly. The beast in me is awoken and I take a step towards him. But my step is interrupted in midair. Before I can say anything, Dr. Greene’s door opens. Anastasia and the Doctor Greene peer out the door. Ana’s mouth drops open, her eyes widen in shock, betrayal and disappointment in hearing Jose’s accusation. It barely registers in my head that she’s in a hospital gown. “Jose Rodriguez, you need to leave now!” she says in a placid but determined voice. Her face betrays her feelings of ferocious hostility. I realize that her effort for a calm facade is for my benefit. “But, Ana! This guy,” he says jacking his thumb in my direction, “he is trying to manipulate you!” Toxic - Britney Spears

“Jose, stop your misplaced concern for me. You’re my friend, and I’d like you to remain that way. My husband and I don’t have to explain our actions and decisions to you.” “He’s blinded you with things, Ana! Don’t you see it? He’s binding you to him with his kid!” he hisses. Ana’s eyes are filled with angry tears. “Don’t you dare to speak about my baby! It’s mine and I want him!” she says as she rubs her eyes ungracefully with the back of her hand. That’s it! I grasp him by the collar and shove him. Taylor steps in. “Young man, you leave my patient alone. I’ll call the security!” Dr. Greene bristles.

I’m about to kick his ass to the kingdom come, Taylor puts himself between Jose and I, his determined eyes locked on mine, he replies Dr. Greene. “No need ma’am. My colleague and I will walk him out.” Just then, “Jose Louis Rodriguez!” shouts an angry voice in a reprimanding tone. We all collectively turn around. After the initial shock is wiped from his face, “Cállate papá!” Jose responds to his father. “Jose, apologize to my daughter and my son-in-law, and then you better leave. I’ll take a cab,” says Ana’s father in a no nonsense tone. He’s sitting in a wheelchair pushed by an orderly. Mr. Rodriguez is standing next to him looking grim, disappointed, and embarrassed. “Ray! I’m sorry, but don’t you see what’s happening here?” Jose argues. “Yes, I see what is happening: my daughter and her husband are making me a grandpa. Don’t rain on my parade young man! I like you, but I will not repeat my warning again: Apologize to my daughter and my son-in-law, and then leave. The decision of them having a child is no one’s business, but their own,” Ray says with a twinge of happiness, pride in his voice as well as censure for Jose. “Don’t cross your line!” “I’m sorry Ray. Someone’s got to think of Ana! No one else seems to be doing it!” “Are you quite sure your concern is for my daughter and not for yourself?” Ray asks. Ana steps out of Doctor’s office with bare feet, her hands on her hips, she’s rendered speechless with Jose’s outburst. “Mr. Rodriguez, I suggest you take your son away from here, sir. He clearly upset my wife, and right now I want nothing more than teach him a lesson he’ll never forget, but in doing so, I would hurt my wife’s feelings,” I say as I hold onto Anastasia who looks bewildered, near tears and shaking. “Jose! Come on son! Are you drunk? Have you taken something? What’s gotten into you?” “No, papa! I’m more sober than I have ever been. Ana, please, I’m sorry… I’m sorry for not standing up for you that night... I was drunk. First I behaved like an ass, and then let Grey to intimidate me with his presence! If I had behaved differently then, maybe you would have made a different decision. I lost my head when I saw you doubled on the floor, throwing up, and heaving. And you’ve just been in the hospital with injuries

causes by Grey’s enemies! Por favor, Ana! I really am worried about you. Now I find out that he knocked you up possibly to keep you in his grip!” And that’s the last straw. I pounce on Jose. All hell breaks loose. “Christian!” Ana shouts. “Jose!” I hear Mr. Rodriguez and Ray call out at the same time. Dr. Greene or someone else must have called the security; because I vaguely hear footsteps. I’m too busy to pay attention because I’m tackling Jose down. Taylor and Sawyer immediately take action. They pull him away and out of my grip to keep us apart. “What’s going on here?” shouts the hospital security as they try to apprehend both Jose and I. “Security! No! Mr. Grey was just defending his pregnant wife.” “I’m sorry Doctor, but we have a job to do!” Dr. Greene grabs the guard’s arm with determined force and pulls him aside. “Do you realize who you would be arresting, and what the Board of Trustees would do with your ass for arresting one of our biggest benefactors for protecting his pregnant wife? This man is Christian Grey! Your actions this minute would determine whether or not our hospital faces lawsuits!” The security guard blanches. He clears his throat. “Is this man offending you ma’am?” he directs his question pointing at Jose who now looks disheveled. His shirt untucked, his hair going every which way, and a slight bruise on his neck showing its ugly head already. “No, it’s just a misunderstanding. He was leaving,” Ana replies. I clench my teeth, my hands turn into fists but I manage to keep them on my side rigidly. “Sir? Are you going to file a complaint against this gentleman?” he turns to me asking. I shake my head in the negative. “My men will escort him out,” I say impassively. Jose shrugs out of Sawyer and Taylor’s grip. “Let go man! I know the way out!” he says with a chagrined glance at Ana who looks unforgiving and disappointed.

“Ana, I’m sorry! Just seeing you sick, I lost my head. And him getting your pregnant…” To my surprise, Anastasia takes three steps toward Jose and just slaps him. “Just shut up Jose! It’s my baby! Our baby and we want our baby!” she says looking at my face questioning, daring me to say otherwise. I nod, my eyes softening. “Yes, we do,” I reply pulling my wife into the protection of my embrace. My gaze is shooting daggers at Jose, my nostrils flaring like a raging bull. “On second thought,” Ray says, “why should I pay for a cab? You came all this way to pick me up. You’re driving me back home, Jose.” Ray’s glance has pity for him. “Come on, son,” Mr. Rodriguez coaxes Jose. “Bye Annie. Call me tomorrow,” Ray says getting up from the wheelchair and walking towards Ana. He hugs her and gives her a kiss. “Forgive him. He’s stupid and in love, honey,” he whispers into her ear. “Oh daddy,” Anastasia says and quietly sobs. “I can’t right now.” “Try. And, congratulations to you both. I’m so happy to hear that my baby girl is gonna make me a grandpa!” Ana hugs him tighter. “Thank you daddy!” “I am so sorry Ana, Mr. Grey…” says Mr. Rodriguez, embarrassed on behalf of his son. Jose gives a forlorn glance at Ana, “I’m sorry Ana!” he says in a barely audible tone, but Anastasia turns her head into my chest. He hangs his head and heads the group to leave the hospital. When Ray, Jose, and Mr. Rodriguez are leaving, Taylor looks up at me. I nod and he discreetly follows them out of the hospital building. “I need to write an incident report,” the security guard says. “No need for that.” “But, sir?”

“You may go back to your station,” Dr. Greene orders him. He and his two companions nod and walk away. “Well, that was interesting,” Says Dr. Greene trying to lighten up the atmosphere. “Ana, I suppose we can start our examination. But, if you wish, you can rest for a little while. Would you like some water?” she asks as she closes the door behind us. I hold Anastasia’s hand wordlessly. I’m still vibrating with anger and tension. The weight of the day is now bearing down on me. First fucking Linc and his lawyers, and now Jose… If he wasn’t madly in love with the love of my life, my reason for being, I would feel bad for him. But as it stands, he’s upset my wife, and spilled the news of her pregnancy to her father without giving Ana the chance to tell them on her own time. I don’t give a shit about his accusations about me. He said I knocked Ana up on purpose! Though her pregnancy was not planned, I’m so fucking glad I knocked her up! She’s my woman, my wife, and she’s carrying my child! Mine! And he’s fucking jealous of that. Oddly, I have not been happier for the baby’s existence as I am now. She has all of me; body and soul, and the fact that she's completely mine angers another man. All of Me - John Legend

His aggression automatically caused me to fiercely defend my wife and child. Another man talking about my child as if he’s an abomination, an unwanted entity or a tool to keep Ana by my side angers me. Ana wants our baby, and by default what Ana wants, I want her to have. “Mr. Grey?” the Doctor asks seeking an answer to a question I haven’t heard. “I beg your pardon?” I say shaking my head. “Would you like a bottle of water as well?” “Yes, sure,” I reply absentmindedly. Ana looks at me with concerned eyes. “It looks like Ana is having some morning sickness,” Dr. Greene says. “Morning sickness? It’s after 5 p.m. Dr. Greene!” I retort sharply. “Mr. Grey. Morning sickness is just a common name pregnancy related nausea and vomiting. The name is give as such because generally the symptoms are present in the early hours of the morning and generally reduced as the day progresses, but it can

occur any time of the day. For some women it can stop around 12 weeks, and for some, it can continue near the end of second trimester. Of course we don’t want Mrs. Grey to get dehydrated if she’s vomiting often. Mrs. Grey, if you could finish the bottle of water I have given you, I will be able to see the baby better with a semi-full bladder. I want to see if we can hear the heartbeat. We haven’t been able to hear it last time. However, I have a new fetal Doppler which is quite sensitive. This can detect heartbeat as early as 6 or 8 weeks but generally it’s much easier to hear after 10 weeks. It’s important for us to check it for the accuracy of your due date.” Anastasia’s eyes widen. She squeezes my hand with excitement. “When can you check it Dr. Greene? I finished my bottle of water,” she says showing her empty bottle. Dr. Greene smiles. “Now, of course. Please lay on the bed here, Mrs. Grey,” Dr. Greene orders and Anastasia obeys immediately. “Now, I need you to place each of your feet on the stirrups like you did last time,” she says pointing at the stirrups. “Don’t you have to check her through her belly, Dr. Greene?” I ask. “During the later stages of her pregnancy, that’s the way we would check your baby’s vitals. However, it’s so small that an ordinary ultrasound will not pick up the heart beat at this early stage. That’s why I need to use this vaginal probe ultrasound,” she explains showing me what looks like an oddly bent in the middle, a slim penis. Anastasia puts her legs up on the stirrups, and the Dr. Greene spreads her legs open. She covers Anastasia with a paper sheet. Ana looks at me with wide eyes, her hand seeking mine. I automatically take her hand standing by her, trying to soothe her. “Mrs. Grey, bend your knees, and I need you to relax. I’m going to place a condom on top of the transducer, lubricate it, and place it inside your vagina like I did last time. Let’s see if your baby wants to communicate with us today,” she says. Doctor Greene pushes Ana’s knees back, and spreads her legs further. “Mrs. Grey, you are too tight. You’re squeezing yourself; I don’t want to hurt you. You need to relax now,” she says as she attempts to insert the probe into my wife. Anastasia winces.

“Mrs. Grey?” Dr. warns her again. “Relax, baby,” I whisper, and run circles in her palm with my thumb. This always arouses her. I lean down and kiss her forehead. She tries to smile. With my other hand, I rub her hair, and slowly ease my thumb and forefinger down to her earlobe, and locate the arousal spot behind her ear. Then painfully slowly slide my fingers down to her ear lobe again and massage it. I feel the tension leave her body with her hand relaxing in mine. Some shapes appear on the monitor of the ultrasound as the doctor moves the probe around inside Anastasia. “Now, I’m going to try to find a position to see if we can hear this little one’s heartbeat. Bear in mind, the fetus is very tiny, and if the pregnancy occurred later than we assumed, we may not hear it yet. But based on the date of your last menstrual cycle, we just might be able to hear it today.” “What is that dark shape on the screen? Is that the baby?” I ask. The shape looks nothing like a baby. “Well, that’s Mrs. Grey’s ovary, and this,” Dr. Greene points to a lima bean on the screen after she moves the probe about, “this is your baby.” “That little bean?” I ask incredulous. “Yep, that little bean is your child, Mr. and Mrs. Grey,” she says with a smile. Anastasia barely tears her eyes away from the monitor and looks at me, trying to assess my thoughts. Dr. Greene touches something on the setting of the ultrasound, and soon enough the room is echoed with the sound of a washing machine, or more like someone is scratching a vinyl record in a rhythmic fashion repeatedly, and quite rapidly. “This is your baby’s heartbeat!” the Doctor says. “Christian!” Ana exclaims, happier than I have ever seen her. Awed, even. Her eyes gleam with joy and the events of just ten minutes ago, all forgotten. Her happiness is contagious. I hear my child’s heartbeat! “What’s that swishing noise mixed with the baby’s heartbeat? Is it normal?” Ana asks concerned.

“Your baby has a healthy heart beat at 161 beats per minute, Mrs. Grey. And this flow you hear is the sound coming from the major artery running through your abdomen which is sometimes picked by the fetal Doppler because, as you see,” she points to something on the screen, “we’re very close to it. In fact this sound is heard by the baby later in the pregnancy and you can even record it to later calm your baby down after he or she’s born. It’s a very familiar, a very comforting sound for them. Because of the placenta, later on in the pregnancy, this flow will be heard by your baby like the sound of wind blowing through the trees.” “Wow!” is all Ana can say. “Any questions Mr. Grey?” “Can you tell us how far along my wife’s pregnancy is?” I ask as I rub Ana’s hair and hold her hand. “What I can measure with the data on my screen is that Mrs. Grey is about 8 weeks and 4 days pregnant. This puts your due date to May 11th or 12th. But this may change as the baby gets bigger. I can give you a better estimated due date in the upcoming weeks.” “Eight weeks and four days? That means my wife’s shot did run out earlier than estimated. Let me ask you something Doctor Greene. What would have happened if Ana got another Depo shot, let’s say six weeks ago? Would you have given her a pregnancy test? Or would you have assumed that she wasn’t pregnant?” I ask raising my eyebrows. Ana’s eyes dart to me first and then to the doctor. “It is possible that the Depo Provera shot might have caused Mrs. Grey to have a miscarriage because of the large initial doses, or even if it didn’t it may have affected the fetal growth; so she would have been running a risk of low birth weight. But, I would not have administered Depo to Mrs. Grey without giving her a pregnancy test as we did when we discovered her pregnancy. Therefore this fetus doesn’t run any of the aforementioned risks. But to answer your earlier question, yes, it does seem that her Depo Provera ran out early.” I nod in response. Doctor Greene’s statement tells me conclusively that neither one of us planned the pregnancy. But in more than one way, I’m glad of it. Anastasia gives me her ‘I-told-you-so’! glare, as she digs her nails in my palm. Oww! I raise my eyebrows in her aggressive reaction, and finally smile at my wife.

I would have wanted to spend more time with my wife alone; just to have her all to myself. On the other hand, our baby is the single most important proof that she’s my woman and mine alone. She’s carrying my child. Not Rodriguez’s, not Kavanagh’s and definitely not Clayton’s! Ana’s pregnancy freaked Jose Junior a lot more than the thought she was sick due to a concussion. I can clearly see that our baby threatens other men. Anastasia winces as the doctor pulls the probe out of her. It doesn’t escape the doctor’s notice that I rub Ana’s legs that’s been stuck on top of the stirrups. Once the blood starts flowing back on her legs, I help my wife down, and put her in upright position. “Mrs. Grey you may get dressed and I will answer any questions you may have once you join us,” she says. Anastasia nods and makes a beeline to the bathroom. “Could you recommend me a book for expecting parents to what to expect during pregnancy?” I ask. Doctor Greene smiles, and she gives me a few names and I record the names into my Blackberry. When Anastasia comes back she directs us into her office and we take our seats. “I have a question about her morning sickness, Doctor,” I say looking at Ana with concern. “How long will they last? And should she be working when she’s experiencing those spells? As you have heard from the earlier commotion by your door, surely you must have realized that her nausea must have been very violent for her dad and friend,” I say with restrained acrimony, “to be concerned about her. Had I known that she would be this sick, I’d ask my wife to stay home,” I say my lips thinning into a firm line. “Christian! I want to work! I just got back to work after recuperating!” Ana scolds me back. “Anastasia, we’ll discuss that later,” I reprimand her. “It is normal for Mrs. Grey to have nausea,” the doctor interjects. “However, if you are having the heaving, violent morning sickness that got you to your knees with such a force that your bodyguard had to rush you into my office in his arms, Mrs. Grey, then I strongly recommend you to work part-time only. You may still be able to work full time, but do the majority of your work at the comfort of your home, and then go to the office in the afternoon. That way, you can still be putting in full time hours, but half of the time, you’ll be telecommuting and the other half you’re in your office. You can have best of the both worlds this way.”

“No! I’d like to go to work. I don’t want my pregnancy to be the determining factor of whether or not I go to work.” “I understand Mrs. Grey; I’m a working mother myself. But one’s health is generally the determinant of one’s ability to work. The symptoms you are experiencing will not last forever. Generally about four or five months. Then you should be fine. Your body is adjusting to the new pregnancy hormones it has never experienced before. Your body is trying to grow a new life in you. Therefore you must do all you can to aid your baby’s healthy development. From your earlier reaction, I noticed that you both want the baby and very protective of it. It would therefore be in his or her best interest that his or her mom gets the best rest,” she says gently as she smiles at Ana who scowls at her wordlessly. Dr. Greene is my new best friend. “My recommendation is that you try out this week part time. If you see improvement in your morning sickness, or dizzy spells which may be an indication of pregnancy induced low blood pressure that may need to be monitored. At the end of the week if you see a decrease in those incidents, you may be able to resume your normal schedule. If however, it’s continuing to disrupt your work and the symptoms worsen, then you two can decide what the best work schedule would be and the times you are less prone to those nausea spells. Generally they’re stronger in the morning.” Ana’s glowers at the doctor knowing that I will become overly protective of her and do so with the good doctor’s orders. “But I hardly have them in the morning. Just around lunch time last week, and today was the only time I had it so late. Couldn’t it have been something I ate or the anxiety of seeing my dad leave the hospital?” This is news to me. She never said she’s been having nausea and morning sickness. I look at her pointedly, my look asking ‘ when-were-yougoing-to-tell-me-this’? Her eyes widen with her “Oh Shit!” face and she avoids her gaze, and just focuses on the doctor. “Mrs. Grey, during pregnancy you will find some food items to make you more nauseous but the main cause of the symptoms is pregnancy. I’m sure you can test for the remainder of this week and see if your symptoms get better or worse and accordingly you can avoid food items that amplify the symptoms. Crackers and club soda seem to aid in most cases. Would testing your body’s reaction and part time work this week work for you?” she asks Anastasia. ”I guess,” Ana answers, like a petulant child.

“What about strange cravings?” I ask, and Ana’s eyes widen and she whips her head looking at me pleading not to say anything as she blushes beet red. “They too are normal part of the pregnancy. Have you been having cravings?” “Some…” Ana mutters, looking at me admonishing. I look back at her with my impassive gaze. “Many of my colleagues will agree with me that the cravings satisfy some specific nutritional need the mother’s body is experiencing. Women are also more in tune with their bodies during pregnancy where you pay close attention to physical stimulus, including hunger, and of course this may lead to a desire for specific types of food,” she says nodding. “So, Dr. Greene, in your professional opinion, is it at utmost importance for that craving to be satisfied?” I ask with a taciturn face. “I’m old school; so, yes, of course. I’m sure it’s no trouble for the father of the baby to meet mother’s needs while she’s carrying his child,” she lectures raising her eyebrows. I hold my wife’s hand, and kiss it gently, and place it in my palm as I massage her knuckles with the tip of my index finger. “It would only be my pleasure to satisfy all my wife’s cravings, Dr. Greene,” I say and Anastasia nearly expires gasping, squirming in her seat. She coughs. “Are you okay baby?” I pat her back. “Yeees,” she squeaks. “Well, we don’t want to take any more of your time, Doctor. Thank you,” I say extending my hand. Anastasia follows suit, and extends her hand to the doctor, still blushing. “Mrs. Grey, it is generally good to have a visit every four weeks in the first trimester but, I’d like to see you in two to see how you have managed your nausea and cravings,” she says. “Yes, of course,” says Ana in a barely audible tone, blush creeping up to her hairline all over again.

“Shall we, Mrs. Grey?” I say holding my hand out to her with a smirk, and exit the Doctor’s office holding my wife’s hand. Both Sawyer and Taylor are waiting outside. She avoids their gaze, and darts me a scowling gaze. “Ana, I have an appointment with Dr. Flynn this evening, and I’m already running late. I’ll send you home with Sawyer, and be home in an hour, okay?” “You do?” She asks surprised. Disappointment flits through her face, but it changes to a smile. “Yes, of course. You haven’t seen him in weeks, have you? I’ll wait for you to get back home for dinner.” “Baby, you heard what the doctor said, if you’re hungry, you need to eat. You can join me for desert,” I say in a lascivious tone my eyes darkening. “I have promised your doctor to satisfy all your cravings after all,” I whisper salaciously. “I don’t know Mr. Grey. I may be too hungry right now and may have to satisfy them on my own in your absence,” she replies batting her eyelashes innocently. “Ah, Mrs. Grey, I too would like to see how you would satisfy those types of hungers. I may just have to ask you to demonstrate tonight,” I murmur with a grin. She rolls her eyes, and tugs me in the direction of the elevators. When we get to the parking lot, Sawyer opens the SUV door for Anastasia. I run my knuckles over her face, and she leans into my touch, closing her eyes. Suddenly I hold her face with both hands, and kiss my wife with all I’ve got. Maybe it’s the boiling stress arising with the showdown I’ve had with Lincoln or Jose’s possessive concern over my wife’s well-being or his jealousy in hearing her pregnancy, or seeing our little blip or hearing his heartbeats. Whatever it is, I want my wife, and kiss her and let everyone know just exactly who she belongs to: ME.

*****❦ ♡ ❧***** “Have you called Dr. Flynn?” “Yes, sir. I told him that you were running late. We had to stop at the hospital.” “What happened when you walked Ana’s dad, Jose and his dad out? ” “Both Mr. Rodriguez and Mr. Steele scolded young Mr. Rodriguez, sir.” “How exactly?” I probe. “Mr. Steele started saying you love Mrs. Grey, ‘Annie’,” he says correcting himself as he looks into the rear-view mirror his gaze catching mine; Taylor looks concerned. “Mr. Steele said he witnessed the intensity of your love for Mrs. Grey when she was in the hospital. He said ‘you can survive being without my daughter, but Christian can’t! He

loves her more than any human being possible and she loves him with the same intensity. I won’t let anyone infringe into their happiness’.” “Jose Rodriguez said that he loves her too, but he didn’t grow up in money like you did. Then Mr. Steele punched Jose angrily and said that no one buys his daughter’s love with money, possessions or wealth,” Taylor recounts and this information surprises me. “He then raised his finger and stuck it into Jose Rodriguez’s chest, poking, and said that his child is not a possession to be bought and sold. Only the one who is worthy of her love and affection could have her, and you were and you did. Mr. Steele also said that Annie loves you and she told him that there would never ever be anyone else for her,

but you. Then young Mr. Rodriguez said ‘what if you were manipulating her by getting her pregnant at her very young age, using her youth and innocence’. Finally Mr. Rodriguez-Senior grabbed his son by the shoulders shaking him and told him to stop with this hopeless love and stop hurting everyone around him, including himself. Having children was every couple’s own decision and only their decision. Not their parents’, siblings’, friends’ or other people who may be in love with them from a distance. He said that he had his chance with Ana, and she only loved him as a brother and nothing else, and he must accept that. Then he muttered something in Spanish.” “What did he say?” I ask tersely knowing Taylor understands Spanish. “He said, ‘forget her, son. She’s another man’s wife. She's no good for you. What’s more, they’re crazy in love.’ He also said that it breaks his heart that his son didn’t get the girl he was crazy in love with. But it was a hopeless love. And asked him to consider Ana’s feeling. Didn’t he think that she deserved to have the man she was in love with instead of the one whom she considered a brother? Then he shrugged out of his father’s grip, apologized Mr. Steele for acting like a jackass and said Ana deserved the best and that she’s good girl and he’d wait for them in the car. He might have been crying with the way he wiped his face with his sleeve forcefully, but I didn’t see his face,” Taylor says. I say nothing. I’d go insane if I ever lost my wife to another man. “Do you want us to put him on our surveillance, sir?” I shake my head in the negative. “No. He was just concerned about Ana. I’ll talk to Sawyer when I get home about what happened.” Only a month ago, I’d let Jose have it, I still could for hurting my wife’s feelings and embarrassing her in front of her doctor, her father and others. I know Anastasia is angry with him, I desperately wanted to beat the shit out of him, but that would only raise Ana’s sympathy for him. Fuck! He has deeper feelings for my wife than I had assumed. I hate any other man desiring my wife, including Jose. It’d be very easy for me to harm, or hurt Jose. But in doing so, I would hurt my wife, and I would shy away from anything that would hurt Anastasia. I feel the SUV coming to a stop at John’s clinic’s parking lot. His secretary is gone, and Dr. Flynn greets us in the reception area. He leads me to his office and I close the door behind me. He takes his seat and I sit on my sofa, crossing my leg on the knee. “Christian, it’s been quite a while since I’ve seen you. I hope you and Ana are doing well. Taylor said that you had to stop at the hospital with Anastasia. I hope she’s well.”

“She’s fine, was experiencing some morning sickness earlier. Her father was being discharged from the hospital today. That’s why we had to stop at the hospital,” I say and briefly explain the encounter. John’s eyes widen, but he says nothing. He rapidly starts scribbling onto his tablet, and when I recount the incident Taylor told me about, he looks up, puts his stylus down and starts typing quickly. This can’t be good. “Tell me Christian, did you develop some sympathy for this young man who has feelings for Anastasia?” I think about it for a minute. “Not quite, John. I don’t really care for him, but Ana does, even if she’s angry with him now. He’s her friend.” “Interesting,” he says and types even faster. “Why? Surely, you love your wife, and you would go to extents before you hurt someone that she cares about.” “Yes. But, I also noted in one of my earlier conversations with you that this is a form of sacrifice you do for the people you love. You endure some people you don’t necessarily like for the sake of those you love. You did the same with your mother.” “Come again? How did we jump from Jose Rodriguez to my mother?” “We will get to that point later, Christian. I want to ask you about the night you called me when you found out about Ana’s pregnancy. What did learning the fact that you were going to be a father make you feel like?” I inhale and exhale loudly. “Helpless, rudderless, incompetent, angry, lost, scared…” “Those are some powerful adjectives. Do you still have those feelings?” “No! Except maybe scared. Having nearly lost my wife made every one of these feelings disappear, except for fear. It amplified the fear, but in a different direction. My initial fear was about becoming a shitty father. It’s still in the back of my mind. But, I think with Ana’s help, you know, she won’t let me become a shitty father. The fear I have is the fear of loss,” I say my voice going down. I recount my feelings when I called the bank and she told me she was leaving me, then finding out Hyde was out on bail, and that she was kidnapped.

I take a whole minute to compose myself when I talk about finding my wife nearly lifeless on cold concrete. My hands fist and my eyes are shards of ice. “I nearly killed the fucker! She was going to kill my wife. My Ana and my child! My sister, too!” I run both my hands in exasperation. I notice that John stopped typing or writing with his stylus. He’s probing me with the intensity of his gaze. “You worried about your baby’s well-being?” “Of course! It’s my child! My helpless baby! If I don’t protect my wife, and my baby, what good am I as a man?” “Do you realize what you just said Christian?” “What?” I ask exasperated. “You just declared that you had the desire to protect your unborn child. In fact, I dare say, it was an automatic reaction. You have indeed what it takes to be a good father.” “But my fear wasn’t just about becoming a shitty father, John! I wanted to have more time with Ana. I’ve never had what I have with her with anyone else. When it comes to Anastasia, I’m a starving man in a banquet, John! I can never get enough of her.” “And yet you not only accepted your child, but you have shown love and care for a tiny fetus. Most fathers take a while to bond with their child. Since mothers carry the baby in their womb, they’re already bonding with the growing life in their bodies. But, men most often see the babies as little people who shift the focus of their wives away from them and may take a while for them to bond.” “I’m not entirely sure that I’m out of that group yet, Dr. Flynn. On the other hand, I do feel fiercely protective of that 8 weeks old life. Maybe because Ana wants him…” “Or maybe because, you also want him.” “Yes, I do,” I whisper. “But doesn’t change the fact that I’m still afraid… Afraid of losing Ana’s care, love and attention, afraid that I may be a shitty father, afraid that I may be impatient… I don’t know John! I’m a man who loves to be in control of his life and everything around him. I have been in the last 7 years… But that changed after Anastasia came into my life, and nothing’s ever been the same.” Dr. Flynn looks at me with hard scrutiny.

“Are you missing your old life?” “No! What my wife gives me is refreshing, love, touch, the kind of bond I never ever thought could happen to me! I didn’t even believe in its existence when I so blatantly saw it in some other people. Genuine love… Saying that I am in love with my wife is just too simple of an expression. Love is a passing feeling. What I have for her is permanent, soul altering, defining. She’s my purpose in life, the reason I wake up every morning, the one I’m driven to take care of and love and please her as long as I exist. And by extension, our child is the seal of that love. So, I want him more than ever.” “Is it because Jose got jealous of you fathering Ana’s baby?” I run my hand over my day old stubble, thinking. “Not because of the reason you say. His jealousy would only trigger my possessive side for Ana which of course it did. What angered me in his reaction about our baby was that his repulsiveness and dislike of our child as if he was an abomination that stole my wife’s freedom.” “How did that make you feel?” Flynn asks. I exhale loudly. Dr. Flynn asks this question so often, he should have it tattooed on his forehead. “I wanted to beat the shit out of him.” “Did you?” “You know I didn’t.” “What kept you?” “I told you this John! Hurting him would hurt Ana, and I will shy away from anything that would hurt her!” “At the cost of enduring the pain inside, away from her eyes?” he says, and I look at him impassively without giving him an answer. Yes, and then some. “I also noticed that you didn’t tell Mr. Rodriguez that your baby was an unplanned pregnancy. You let him think that it was a design by you.” I nod in response to Dr. Flynn's assessment.

“Why?” “Because, it’s none of his fucking business! I don’t give a shit about what Jose or any other fucker who has eyes for my wife thinks about me. I am what I am, I do what I do. And not giving a shit about others’ opinions of me has been my life’s philosophy. As long as my wife knows that I love her beyond anything I ever loved or cared for, that I would go to such extents to protect her, spend everything I own, give up everything I’m have, but I will never give her up, I’d be content! If she needed a heart transplant, and I’m the only match, I’d carve my own heart out for her just so she lives. That’s the extent of my love for her. I make no apologies or explanations to anyone let alone a sappy boy who walks after my wife like a lost puppy. He needs to get it through his head that she is my wife, my woman, and the mother of my baby! If he ever does anything remotely simple to hurt her again with his fucking prejudices, I don’t think I can restrain myself. It nearly came to that point in the end today. It took literally all my self-control to not to beat the shit out of him, and kick his ass into next week! It would have taken a lot more than 3 hospital security guards to stop me from doing just that. But I didn’t want to cause my wife an embarrassment more than she had endured with that fucker’s accusations! That’s why I exercised restraint! Ana can and does stand up for herself, and she did. But our baby is helpless, tiny. I can’t allow anyone to hurt him. I’m his parent! It’s my job to protect him! No one and I do mean no one will harm my child or my wife without going through me!” “That’s quite a declaration Christian. Now, tell me about your last meeting with Elena. You said that you went for a drink with her after you walked out on Anastasia.” I close my eyes in pain. “Are you trying to wound me by reminding me that while protecting my wife from others, I hurt her the most?” “No, Christian. I am trying to establish something that you know in your subconscious, but never said it out-loud. But first, I’d like to hear what you have to say. Go on please…” he says, waiting for an explanation. “Elena was an unfinished business since my birthday. I had to have closure. It had been over between us for years, but I guess not so for her. She made a pass at me, and it shocked us both that I flinched away from her touch like it was the bubonic plague. Then she made it sound like it was just a joke, but we both knew it wasn’t. I’m in love with my wife! No matter how angry I get with Anastasia and God know she tries my patience like no one else, I absolutely love my wife. I told Elena that! Ana’s my present and future. And perhaps I may have known all along that Elena had the idea that she

would get me back again in a sexual relationship which of course I ignored knowing I’m the one in charge of my life and that was in the past only. So, I kept the charade up making myself believe that we are only friends. At least that’s what I considered Elena was to me. In a way she may also have felt that way as well, but when she touched me the way she did before she initiated hardcore fucking, I could no longer lie to myself that she was only a friend. Clearly it wasn’t the case for her. I had to make it abundantly clear that there could never, ever anything happen between us, and I could never see her again.” “Did you tell her Ana was pregnant?” “God, no! She knew I was upset when I run into her in front of Esclava, and asked me to go out for a drink. I only said Anastasia wanted children, and that I wasn’t ready for it, because I feared of losing my wife to a little invader, that she’d never have time for me, or love me, and I’d only be the second person in her life. Fear of loss, grief even was lacing my mind at the time. I just had to talk to someone, and you were, well… you were unavailable,” I say shrugging. “But after she made a pass at you, you could no longer hide behind the idea that she’s only a friend. That is a fact you have known for a long time in your subconscious. It is nothing new. In fact, I have noted that about you 4 years ago. Remember the time your mother invited me to your birthday party for the first time, and Elena was there. We had a session a few days after that party discussed the events in that session. I have noted that you only danced with your sister, your mother, and once with Elena. I have probed about your rigidity then. You were carefree with your sister, and it was a fun dance. Gentle with your mom, but still at ease. But with Elena, I noted that you erected a barrier, and you were somewhat rigid.” I look at him with unblinking eyes. Where’s he going with that? “I vaguely remember something in that line,” I say non-committal. “I’m quite sure you remember more than that Christian. It was first of many times you walked out of my office in anger. I thought you were never going to come back. But you did… A week after,” he adds in his Londoner accent. I shake my head. “Do you remember what I said to you?” he asks. I sigh. “Yes. You hypothesized that the reason I didn’t cut Elena out of my life though I ceased all sexual relations with her was because it would hurt my mother. You said that if I were to sever my ties with my seducer and eliminated her from my life, and avoided her in all family functions; it would raise my family’s suspicion. You said that discovery

of my mother’s good friend’s betrayal in the form of seducing her son would hurt my mother immensely. Then you conjectured that I would go to extents to avoid my mother from getting hurt in any shape or form possible, especially from something about my past. Therefore you said that I endured the dead weight of once detrimental relationships at a personal cost because of my love for my mother.” John smiles widely. “Verbatim with my notes. Do you see the parallel with Jose situation? You tried your best to avoid the confrontation with Jose in order to protect your wife even though it came at a personal cost to you. I dare say that you would never do that for a sub, or any other woman who has ever been in your life.” “Are you suggesting it was wrong?” I ask my raising my eyebrows. I cross my arms and sit back in my leather chair as the chair protests with a squeak, just like I am. “I’m glad you exercised self-control and restraint to avoid violence. But I want to examine the underlying reason for your avoidance. We’ll start with Elena example. Why do you think you didn’t eliminate Elena out of your life after your relationship ended? One cannot go from a totally hard on physical relationship and forgetting everything then switch into a placid friendship phase.” “That’s a done deal John! I have cut her out of my life! What more do you want from me?” I say jumping up to my feet. “Are you going to walk out again?” he asks. “Noo!” I say like a sullen teenager. “I have given problems to my parents since the minute they adopted me. I didn’t let anyone to touch me! I remember my mom getting this devastated face when I shirked away from her touch when I was four, but she still managed to smile at me. Then, I didn’t speak for two years. Elliot was afraid of me because I would beat him up which my parents put a stop to it. I had this undiluted rage in me that never subsided; I was mad at everyone, everything, the universe for allowing me to exist! Then came my fucking teen years: I was in trouble every day, all the time! I put my parents through enough misery already,” I say taking a breath. “Do you really think that I would put them through worse shit when I became an adult? I would do anything, absolutely anything to avoid giving them the kind of pain that was worse than all the misery I put them through combined over the years. It would devastate my mom, and it did when she found out a few months ago! She didn’t

even know the extent or the kind of relationship Elena and I had. My mom assumed that it was just a sexual affair… Not the deviant, full on BDSM relationship! Maybe it was just me who is the abomination, the one who screws up my loved ones’ ordered, perfect lives. The fear of hurting my mom, and my fucking self-abhorrence were some of the reasons why I made myself believe that Elena was just a friend, a friend who immensely benefited me in helping me to learn to cope with my issues… Even if I was to admit to myself in the subconscious level that our relationship was wrong, I’d be resetting my clock, and all I had gone through would be for nothing. And along the way, I’d be hurting my family, my mother in particular. I wasn’t going to take that chance. I would tolerate anyone no matter how much it caused me pain just so I could avoid inflicting greater pain to the ones I love.” “And we have a breakthrough…” John says smiling. “That’s the exact reason you tolerated Jose’s behavior. To avoid inflicting pain to your wife. You would rather endure unpleasant situations and people because in doing so, you are protecting the ones you love. But, who will protect Christian?” “I’m big, bad and ugly enough to do that myself.” “Are you?” “Why shouldn’t I be?” I answer with a question in avoidance for an answer. “It would be more prudent if you also protected yourself.” “I have so many layers of protection John!” “I disagree. Those are insulations and avoidance from society rather than protection, Christian. For example, in the past, you would avoid seeing Elena as opposed to cutting her off completely. The layers insulated you, but didn’t completely protect you, just caused you to grow distant from society. You see, when those layers were stripped away from you rather forcefully, you were left bereft of any coping mechanism which was amply demonstrated after Anastasia entered into your life. Avoidance didn’t teach you how to deal with real life. Just left you helpless, rudderless, fearful,” he says feeding my earlier words back at me. “Dealing with life’s issues is a learned behavior, Christian. You have been exposed compellingly into reality of life since you have discovered your wife’s pregnancy, Elena’s unwanted advances, your sister’s and Anastasia’s kidnapping, Ana’s injuries

and now another young man who is in love with Anastasia accusing you of being uncaring towards your wife, and getting her pregnant to tie her to you permanently.” “How should I have dealt with them John?” I ask exasperated. “There’s no one size fits all formula Christian. I don’t expect you to accommodate Mr. Rodriguez. Ana is your wife, you’re both mature adults, and old enough to have and care for a child even if the pregnancy was unplanned. Others who are causing problems to our relationships aren’t the ones we ought to be dealing with; you don’t owe explanations to them. Only to the ones we love. We need to be open with them.” “I don’t think it would go so well if I were to tell Anastasia that I want to kick her friend’s ass till hell won’t have it again! She might have issues with that...” I say sarcastically. “Is that how you feel?” “Yes, I do. I don’t want him near my wife! I don’t want him trying to hold her when she’s puking, comfort her, and have concern for her, question or reprimand her for our decisions. I will make no excuses when I beat the shit out of him! I will protect my wife and my child fiercely if necessary…” John opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. “Before you say anything John, talk to me after your wife is stalked, kidnapped, beaten half to death, nearly lost the baby she wanted… I barely got her back in my life, and some other asshole with his confused love for my wife was making life miserable for her. Was he just waiting in the wings so that I get tired of Anastasia and leave? So, don’t expect me to make excuses, or ask any forgiveness when I kick the shit out of the next person who even dreams about inflicting pain on my wife, my child, or any other member of my family!” John scribbles something on his tablet again, and I think he murmurs, ‘two steps forward, one step back.” Be that as it may; where my wife and child are concerned, there are no limits in what I will do to protect them. “Well, our time is nearly up, you shall not wait this long before you see me again. How about next week?” John asks. “Next week sounds great. I’ll have my assistant schedule.”

Taylor is waiting in the waiting room. He opens the door for me to exit the clinic. I feel a load lifted off me. Maybe I don’t have the amount of progress Dr. Flynn wants me to have, but I have progress enough for Christian Grey to fit my desires and my control freakery. Today of all days, despite all that happened, I feel undefeated, unconquered but not quite invincible. And right now, I want to go home, find the reason for my existence, and bury myself in her for a long time. Sting - Mad About You

*****❦ ♡ ❧***** Invictus Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years

Finds and shall find me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

CHAPTER XI EVERYTHING AND NOTHING

Taylor and I arrive at Escala, but Anastasia is nowhere to be seen. I go to our bedroom to see if she’s there, but she’s not in the bedroom either. Confused I come out into the living room and make my way to the dining area. There is a flurry of activity by Mrs. Jones in the kitchen. She seems to be cooking for an army as opposed to two people. “Mrs. Jones, where is Mrs. Grey?” “She was here about 30 minutes ago sir, I believe she left to go to her bedroom after asking me to prepare food for the company.” “Company? What company?” I ask. “I’m not exactly sure, sir. I believe six people are coming. She was going to explain, but she received a phone call and hasn’t been back since.”

“Did she eat?” I ask. “She started to, but she’s been receiving one phone call after another.” A nervous edgy energy takes me over. I have a feeling that this is Jose’s doing. I don’t know what he did, but he’s stirred the pot somewhere, somehow. I go to the library to see if she’s there. Generally, Anastasia finds the library soothing, relaxing. It’s a good place to sit and talk. But, who would she be talking? I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. I take it out, and check the Caller ID. I frown when I see the caller. I walk to my study to take the call. After I close the door behind me, I answer. “I thought I asked you to never contact me again!” I hiss. My mind is still at my wife wondering where she might be. “I know; I’m so sorry Christian! I wouldn’t have if I haven’t heard what happened.” “And what would that be?” I ask without giving any information. “Christian, even the deaf have heard that Anastasia and Mia were kidnapped. Despite what you may think of me, I still care about your family. Your mom had been my friend for many years. Of course I restrained myself from calling you but Linc called me this afternoon after all these years! I haven’t talked to him since our divorce,” Elena says. I walk back to my seat behind my desk. “Why would that interest me? He’s your ex; not mine,” I say, giving nothing away. “Well, my ex,“ she says enunciating, “happens to have paid the bail of your wife’s and your sister’s kidnapper. And he’s made a threat against you and yours. Though it is not explicitly expressed, I know Lincoln, and I know what he is capable of. Is it true that you sold Lincoln Timber out under him?” When I don’t respond, she continues to talk. “I will take your silence as an admission. But, Christian, please, please, please don’t take him lightly. Lincoln doesn’t do forgiveness, turn the other cheek, and when it comes to revenge, he won’t go for it until he has all his docks in a row and he’s going for kill. No matter how mean, dark, downright bad you may think of yourself to be, you’re a law

abiding citizen. Lincoln has the appearance of a good citizen. But, he can hand the devil his own ass!” “Thanks for the warning. I can take care of myself,” I reply ready to hang up. “You saw what he did to me!” she shouts, her voice a high pitch. “You saw! That was just for $100,000 Dollars! One hundred grand is nothing to him! Four of my most expensive purses cost more than that!” she shouts. I haven’t heard Elena shout in a very long time. “He didn’t just beat you up for money, Elena! It was because we were fucking!” “Grow up Christian! You weren’t the only one I was fucking,” she says. And that’s not a revelation to me. Although she would beat the shit out of me if someone else looked at me with carnal appreciation, I had an inkling suspicion that she was doing it. “Linc brought men and women into our bed! And you went to college. I’d see you once a month when you were in school; that is hardly enough to satisfy me. You know the Dom/Sub clubs I frequented. I have utilized their services amply. Do you think I was going to go without sex for that long? Even though I hid my extracurricular activities from Linc, he wouldn’t have been furious if he knew about them. For him, it was just the principal of things: by controlling what I did, he controlled me. I broke the protocol and went against the master dominant that he is. That’s why he beat me up an inch of my life to show me who the true master is. And you, someone I fucked with beat him in a game he thought he had no one to rival him. You see, no one beats him in his own game and gets away with it! Remember, he waited seven fucking years to get back at you for fucking me without his permission. Seven years! Do you know the lengths he would go to punish you and all those you love for taking away and dismantling his company?” She knows she got my attention. I can deal with anyone who desires to punish me. But, my wife, my baby, my family are off limits. If anyone wants to fuck me over by hurting them would be signing their own death certificate. “Let’s assume for a minute that what you say is true. He doesn’t have the means to inflict any kind of damage to me. He doesn’t have the company, money or associations,” I state, waiting to see how she will contradict me. I’m still not sure if this is Elena’s way to get back into my life or a genuine concern. Either way it will cost me to hear it.

“Arghhh!” she groans on the phone. “For a very bright man Christian, someone whose wife has just been beaten half to death, you fail to see the parallels. Do you remember what I looked like?” “Yes!” I respond, growing rigid. I know what she’s trying to get to. “If your wife didn’t shoot her attacker, and if you and your men didn’t get there on time, you would not be apprehending just an assailant, but possibly her murderer. And believe me when I say this, that guy wasn’t inadequate…” “Inadequate?” I hiss, in a low voice. “You think he was inadequate when he nearly killed my wife?” “If it was Lincoln,” she raises her voice an octave, speaking through teeth, “he would have finished the job! And I don’t say this to be mean, Christian. I am trying very hard to get you to understand what you are face to face. This guy must have been a last minute opportunity for Linc; and perhaps he didn’t do his homework as well as he could have given the time restraints. My ex-husband could have inflicted the pain he wanted me to endure, and would have killed me. But he made sure that I wasn’t dead! He made sure that I suffered for a very long time. It took me months to heal! Death, he knows is a short trip to neverland,” Elena laughs bitterly. “He does not attack until he knows he gets all he wants, all his revenges fulfilled. He learns from his mistakes and he never repeats them! Never! And when it comes to Lincoln exacting his dues, he’s like a bottomless pit. You are now his number one enemy!”

Am I not Merciful? - The Gladiator

“Why didn’t you press charges if he was such a horrible man?” I ask curiosity getting the better of me. “And then do what? If I pressed charges, he would out me as your lover. Your parents would endure a public shame as if they just ignored their son’s affair with a trophy wife, because you were 21 years old. There was no hiding it; you weren’t a minor! Can you imagine the ramifications of it; adopted son of a pediatrician and a respected attorney? We had a six years long affair. Who would believe them even if both of us swore up and down that no one knew about it? Even if they believed us then your parents would have been dubbed unfit as parents for not seeing something going on for this long. His disclosure would have been simply devastating for many people. You were just getting into business. It would have killed your efforts even before it began. If I went further, he would expose what we had since you were a minor…” she says. “I fail to see how he would have done that without exposing himself as being in the scene. Besides, what you stated about my parents would also go the other way. His disclosure would have also made the police or the public suspicious that he too knew about the 6 years long affair. It may have been assumed that the affair became inconvenient for him. I was at the beginning of business. I’d survive. But he, as a wife abuser and someone who may have ignored his wife taking advantage of a minor would have had worse ramifications in business.” “Oh Christian! What I stated is just the best case of scenario! Linc even had rock solid alibi showing himself away at the time he assaulted me. He has always had the means to have us disappeared without a trace. He would have done it in such a way that no one would have any way of knowing it was him,” she says remaining silent for five seconds. Her voice lowers, “I wanted to live and put the experience behind me. Then you broke up with me. So, it was time for me to start anew. But now that you’ve taken what he values the most, you cut his balls out, made him impotent in the business world. It’s not a matter of whether he’ll seek revenge, but when.” “Do you know where he would be hiding his money?” “What money?”

“He embezzled from his own company. There are millions of dollars missing. We’ve only located a small percentage of it.” “I don’t know. I never got into his business dealings. That company was his mistress. He wasn’t going to share the information of his secret accounts.” “You said that he threatened me. What exactly did he say?” I ask in a dangerously low voice. My patience running thin with the walk down the memory lane. “He said,” starts Elena, clears her throat, and deepens her voice, “‘your ignoble former boy lover fucked up my company, stealing it right under me. I gotta hand it to him. He is as devilish as I am; your tutelage of him under your whip paid him off handsomely. He knows how to properly inflict pain. I called to congratulate you. I shall someday return the favor to him, and part him with what he holds dear,’” she says stopping. “If you go and talk to the police about this, I will deny every single word of it. I’m very fond of the life I lead, my business and my submissive. I’m not willing to part with what I cherish, yet. Not, even for you Christian. So, just be careful.” “I’ll send Welch to talk you.” “No, I said all there’s to say.” I abruptly stand from my seat. My chair rolls behind my protesting the force which I exerted on it. I grasp the edge of my desk, and lean in as if she’s sitting in the very room with me. “Be that as it may, he is my security adviser he may uncover something I didn’t think of. You owe me that much!” I enunciate. She lets out an exasperated breath, ready to protest. “He’ll meet you tonight. He’ll call you and let you know where you will meet him.” “I had plans…” she starts. “I had accommodated you long enough myself. Your plans are now changed! Revise them!” “Oh, fine!” she hisses. “How’s Anastasia?” she asks changing tact. “She’s fine. If that’s all you have to tell, I have business to attend to,” I cut her curtly. “Goodnight Christian,” she says.

“Goodnight Elena. Wait for Welch to call you. If you don’t answer, you know he has ways of finding you,” I warn and I hang up. Standing in the middle of the room, I try to compose myself, run my hands through my hair in exasperation. After taking two deep breaths, I dial Welch with my instructions. After briefly explaining him what Elena informed me, I tell him to contact Elena, and question her about the phone call she’s received. The conversation is brief and to the point. “Okay, call me or text me when you uncover something,” I order. “Will do, sir. Also, I highly recommend that we put someone behind Lincoln’s ass to tail him and detail is activities. That’s something we haven’t done with Hyde and it cost us,” he reminds me. “I agree. Get someone who has experience in covert ops as soon as possible and I want the detailed resume of him,” I command before I hang up. I drop my phone in my pants’ pocket, and leave my study in sure steps like a panther on a prowl. I need to find my wife. I miss her even more so now. When I make my way to the living room, I still don’t see Anastasia. “Mrs. Jones, where’s Mrs. Grey?” “She was looking for you as well. As a matter of fact, she just went to your bedroom to see of you were there. Your guests should be arriving soon.” "I was in my bedroom 10 minutes ago. She wasn't there." "I'm sorry sir, that's where she said she was going to look for you," Gail replies.

“Who is coming over?” “Mrs. Grey just informed me that it's your family, sir.” Why are they coming on a weekday of all days? I turn around and make my way to our bedroom. Anastasia is just coming out of our bedroom. She’s in a nice black wraparound dress elegantly tied with a nice bow on her right side. Her high heels are making her at least four inches taller. She put her hair is in a nice ponytail, and her make-up is natural, accentuating what she already has. In short, she is irresistibly fuckable.

“Mrs. Grey, I have been looking for you,” I murmur, after drinking her in. My eyes darken with lascivious desire as my hand reach down to her face. “Have you now, Mr. Grey?” she responds, her voice husky. I lean down and kiss her. My hand slides down to the small of her back. I cup her buttocks in my hand and push her into my groin, deepening our kiss. Her hands run

into my hair, clumping it. I lift her up off the ground, and walk into our bedroom kicking the door closed with the heel of my loafers. “Christian, your family is coming,” she murmurs between kisses. I groan. “Right now baby, I don’t care if the Pope himself is paying a visit to us promising heaven. What I want,” I emphasize, “and what I need are one and the same. And that’s you!”

Anastasia looks up and her gaze is locked on the avid wanton gleam in my eyes. She swallows. Her left arm wraps around my neck while her right hand caresses my biceps. I walk towards our bed with sure steps and deposit my wife onto the mattress then loom over her. The weight of my hips press into her then expertly angulate my hips over the junction of her thighs letting her know, making her feel how much I desire her, how hard my erection has grown, and how deep I want to fuck her. I feel Anastasia tremble beneath me with desire. I tilt her head, angling it to perfectly capture her full lips. The moment our lips touch, fire engulfs my veins, jolting me into awareness, making me desire her even more. Set Fire to the Rain - Adele

Her hands travel under my jacket, trying to shove it off my back. I help her tossing it across the room. When I lean down to merge our bodies, her fingers are trying to unbutton my shirt in a hurry. When she can’t, she squirms under me with impatience. When she manages to unbutton one, she can’t manage to unbutton the next one. With frustration, she pulls my shirt apart making the buttons scatter on the bed and around the room. “Savage!” I whisper. “I, love it!”

“We don’t have much time, but I want you now husband! Fast and hard, please! Take me! Possess me! Make me feel I’m absolutely yours!” she begs. I don’t know what caused her to feel this way, but that’s exactly what I need! “Yes, ma’am!” I don’t know how other couples communicate. But, we’re not like other people. We communicate through sex. My intense passion and craving for her explodes in leaps and bounds. When I lean down to kiss her again, I feel the pucker of her tightening nipples under her dress grazing over my chest hair sending jolts of electricity, hardening my cock, growing the ache I have for her which can only be sated by being buried deep inside her. Her lips are soft, and demanding. She whimpers when I suck on her lower lip. Her

body’s instant reaction to me makes me give out a deep guttural groan. I hold my torso up using my forearm thinking at the last minute of her pregnancy and with my other hand I push the skirt of her dress up feeling her drenched sex.

“Oh, Ana! You are so wet for me!” I murmur into her lips. I swallow her little moans. She arches her head and her back automatically lowering my eyes to her perfect mounds pushing through her dress. My lips graze over the fabric of her dress, and capture a puckered nipple between my teeth and tug it not so gently, making Anastasia groan with pleasure. Her hips lift up trying to find my cock, hungry for friction, trying to melt into me, merge with me. Her hands travel to my back; an act that would have made me jump out of my skin is now making me hard, ferociously hungry for my wife. She digs her nails into my back and scrapes down. Her hands push their way under my waistband but restricted by my belt.

“Your pants! Off! Please,” she manages to pant her demand. I unbuckle my belt, unbutton and unzip my pants. Anastasia sticks her hand into my boxers freeing my erection. Her thumb runs over the crown of my erecting in rhythmic circles. The current of her touch makes me tilt my head back, my mouth in a silent O.

“Oh, baby! What you do to me!” Her hand runs from hilt to aching tip, slowly yet greedily, licking her lips. I untie the bow of her dress opening it up. The need I feel for her is urgent, like the thirst of a man in the desert. I have no patience to gingerly pull her panties off. I insert my index and middle finger under her panties. My fingers run over the folds of her sex. Her wetness makes me groan. I swiftly turn my hand over and poke my finger into the lace of her panties, rip it into shreds. Paul McDonald and Nikki Reed

“Those… those cost five hundred Dollars!” she pants. “Baby, I wouldn’t care if they were fifty thousand dollars right now!” I sit up on my knees and open the flap of her dress. Her breasts are pushing through her black lace bra. I lean down and run my nose between the soft peaks of her breasts. I run my index finger beneath the lacy cup of her bra freeing her left breast. Then, leaning down to her enticing mound and greedily suckle her nipple into the warm wetness of my mouth with deep, aching pulls.

“Please!” she begs. I grin between pulls. My hand darts down to her pulsing sex, swollen with her desire. With my other hand, I free her right breast. Her neglected nipple perks, and tightens begging for attention. I lick and nip my way to her other breast. Capturing the areola in my mouth, I lick her nipple leisurely, in deep sensual strokes. Groaning, Anastasia arches her back up pushing her hips trying to find my heavy erection, seeking that connection.

“Taylor! Ana has not been well, and she told us to come over here. I need to see my friend!” we hear from outside our door. “Miss Kavanagh, as much I’d like to accommodate you, Mr. Grey is her husband and he is with her. And until they come out their room, I cannot allow you to barge into their bedroom!” I hear Taylor’s authoritative voice right outside my door. Fucking Kavanagh! Can’t a man get a break today? “I just want to knock on the door to see if she’s okay!” “No ma’am! They’ll come out when they’re good and ready.” “Taylor, what if Ana is sick, and my brother can’t call for help?” I hear my sister’s silly logic. “You need not worry about that Ms. Grey. We have protocols in place for that sort of situation. When Mr. and Mrs. Grey’s door is closed, they require privacy,” Taylor blocks them.

“Well, at least let them know we’re here or something!” Kavanagh says. “I will inform Mr. Grey. Please take a seat in the living room and enjoy the food and drinks.” "Holly hell!" Anastasia whispers. “I’m not leaving this bedroom without fucking you!” I hiss through my teeth, and Anastasia raises her hips to meet mine with a lascivious grin, pleased to finally get what she wants. I push her legs apart with my knees. Holding my heavy erection in my hand, I run my hand up and down over my lengths and feel the throbbing veins. I lean down and run the crown of my penis over the wetness of her sex.

“Now, please! Fast and hard!” “We aim to please, Mrs. Grey," I say, feeding my erection into the depths of her sex. Once I am hilt deep she wraps her legs around my torso trying to push me in even deeper. I expertly angulate my hips trying to rub and locate that secret sweet spot inside her. I grab her by the buttocks, and lift her up. When he weight is naturally pushing down onto my cock, I ring all the bells and whistles. Tonight - Enrique Iglesias

“This is the deepest,” I hiss. I hold her up, and rearing up push upwards as I descend Anastasia’s weight down in rapid fashion, continually drilling into her. “Yeesss!” she moans. “More! Please!”

As I move her up and down on my cock, sliding in and out of her sex, her breasts pushed forward by the wire of her bra cups, intimately rub over my chest. As I push her up, her nipple aligns with my mouth, and I capture it, sucking in deep pulls. When my cock drills into her again, her muscles inside her sex tighten inside.

“Again!” she begs. I capture her other nipple in my mouth. Suck it hard. She pushes her head back as I shove my dick hard into her. I move the angle of her buttocks, tilting them upwards, and roll my hips once I enter her and locating my favorite spot, I rub and massage it in circles with my cock, stimulating us both. Her hands find my back, nails running through, turning me on hotter. The heels of her pumps dig into my ass in her effort to merge us.

Finally I rear again, and push my cock into her fast and hard in rapid succession as I raise her buttocks and descend her onto my conquering erection. I feel the contraction, and pull of the muscles of her sex in her effort to milk me dry. She shouts her pleasure as her teeth latches onto my shoulder. “Fuuuuck! Ana!” I hiss as I spurt into her sex thick and hard marking my woman, my wife, washing her in my semen. My eyes loses focus during the peak of my ecstasy, my mouth opens in an O and then my teeth clamp shut, air hissing through with a mixture of pleasure and lust. As her sex is completely wrapped around my cock like a tightly fisted glove, I thrust into her four more times. The jolts of orgasms can be felt in the tips of my toes. Finally our lips meet and feeling of waves of orgasm transfer into each other. “Ana! Ana! Ana! I love love and love you, baby!” I finally pull my cock out of her. It’s barely tamed. I could go on all night, but we have people waiting outside. By their arguments with Taylor, I can tell that they will come barging into our bedroom. “Mrs. Grey, you weave some powerful magic.” Black Magic Woman - Santana

“So do you Mr. Grey,” she replies. “Do you know why they are here?” I ask without putting her down. She sighs and makes a motion for me to stand her up. “Kate called me. Apparently Jose texted her asking if she was concerned ever about my well-being for any reason.” I stiffen immediately. My gaze turns into chards of ice. “What did Kate say in response?” “She didn’t respond to his text. She called me obviously worried and equally curious about why he would ask such a thing.” I raise quizzical eyebrow encouraging her to go on.

“When I explained to Kate that I got sick when I went to see my father, she got overly concerned, well, not like Jose but in her own way she was lecturing me,” she says rolling her eyes. “Kate also assumed that it was the result of the concussion I've had and scolded me for going back to work too soon.” She sighs. “I’m just tired of being scolded and lectured by my friends. But when she wanted to come and see me with her own eyes to make sure I was well, I gave her a time and told her to let others know and come together. It turns out she and Elliot went out for a drink with Mia and Ethan. When the rest of the group heard that I wasn’t feeling well earlier, they all got concerned and wanted to check on me. Mia was more so because she was feeling responsible of my injuries,” Anastasia says shaking her head. I scoop my wife off the floor, and walk to the en suite bathroom. I nod my head encouraging her to continue. “Since they all wanted to come over, I wanted someone else to be on our side when we announce the news of the Blip. I called your mom and asked her to come over with your dad. This way she can back me up. I just didn’t want a repetition of this afternoon’s incidents.” “I don’t think they’ll react the same way Jose did. He had ulterior motives…” I mutter trying to conceal how angry I am furious with Jose for the shit he pulled this afternoon and angrier still for texting Kate. At least he didn’t spill the news this time. I might have to have a talk with him. Anastasia shakes her head. “I don’t want to think about what he said, Christian. I’m still boiling mad about it. He’s hurt my feelings. This is my baby; I need to protect it,” she says. “Our baby!” I correct her as I stand her up in the bathroom. Taking some wet wipes, I kneel before my wife, and delicately clean her sex. She holds onto my shoulders to steady herself. I take another wet wipe and capture and clean the leisurely running semen down her inner thigh. My mark on her is so fucking sexy. “And it’s my job to protect you both,” I say splaying my hand on her belly. “Jose, Kate or anyone has to go through me: I'm the husband, I'm the both of your protector…” I say in a low voice. “Do you understand? You don’t need to do anything except to stay safe. I’m your husband, and this little one’s father. You’re both mine! I protect what is mine,” I say enunciating. Her breath hitches, and lips part as her gaze is locked on mine. “All clean. Well, I’ll clean myself up while you get dressed and we better do it quickly and get out there before they try to barge into our bedroom while my dick is still hanging out,” I say and Anastasia bursts out laughing.

“Mrs. Grey, am I that funny?” “Mr. Grey, your delicate vocabulary knows no bounds. “But actually,” she adds her laughter subsiding as I rise up, her gaze is fixed on my penis, “there’s nothing funny about this, husband,” she whispers, her fingers wrapping around my semi tamed cock. “Not now, baby. We’ll never be able to leave the room, and we have impatient company out there.” Her face slightly falls. I raise her hand up to my lips, and kiss it, taking the edge of the sting of my words. When Anastasia and I manage to leave our bedroom, she's dressed in a different wrap around dress. Her hair is back in a ponytail, her lips are glossy, and she’s in her high heels. I have my jeans and black t-shirt. “About time you came out! We were wondering if we should send in the rescue crews to your bedroom with instructions on how to dismount,” Elliot jokes grinning, making Anastasia flush. “Elliot!” chides Mom. Kate slaps his leg. “Really, Elliot! Ana’s been sick. I’m sure he was tending her!” she scolds him. “Oh, I’ve no doubt that he was tending her," he grins even wider. "Congrats by the way, you have graduated from speedy service,” he continues to joke checking his watch. “Fuck off Elliot!” I scold him. “I’d love to, but I take a lot longer than you, so I have to wait till I get home,” Elliot continues to joke, laughing this time. He’s on a roll tonight. Meanwhile, Ethan Kavanagh’s jaw drops open, shocked in light of Elliot's jokes partially involving his sister. “Are you quite done?” Dad berates Elliot. “You’re embarrassing your brother and his wife.” “Ok, ok, I’m done. You should all relax. The girls were all freaking out thinking Ana was sick, but I was just trying to demonstrate that…” he doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Kate elbows him.

“Ana, how are you darling?” Mia walks up to Ana and hugs her tight. “Mmmmm! I’ve missed you. When Kate got a text message from your friend saying you weren’t well today and nearly passed out in your dad’s hospital room, we were so worried about you!” Mia holds tops of Anastasia’s shoulders and steps back to take a good look at her. “You look a bit pale. Are you having headaches, stomachache, any kinda aches or pains?” she asks. “Mia! Ana will be fine, dear,” my Mom censures my sisters as she comes to Ana’s rescue giving my wife a small hug. “Hello darling girl! How are you feeling?” she asks in a soft whisper. Ana nods and smiles in response. “Just fine Grace.” Kate takes her turn in giving Ana a hug. “Seriously, were you that sick this afternoon? Rodriguez texted that you freaked them out. What happened? Why did you get so sick all of a sudden? Was it too early for you to go back to work? Did the doctors miss something? Did you get checked up?” she asks, and leaning into Ana’s ear she asks, “Do you feel safe at home?” Ana’s eyes dart at me immediately trying to see assess if I have heard Kate. One look at my face and she knows I did. “I feel fine and safe!” she hisses her answer to Kate. My Dad comes and kisses her forehead, and gives her a small hug in greeting her. Elliot takes his turn by holding my wife and swirling her around. “Wow, Ana! You’ve lost weight little lady! How do you feel?” “Elliot, you may let go of my wife now,” I say pulling Anastasia to my side. Finally Ethan Kavanagh greets her, and I narrow my eyes as he gives my wife a hug lifting her off the floor. Christ! What the fuck is going on with other guys wanting to hold my wife? “Here, Ana! Nothing a glass of wine can’t cure!” my brother says handing Anastasia a glass of champagne. My Mom, Mrs. Jones and I must all have the identical expression on our faces.

“Thank you Elliot,” I say and take the glass of champagne from Ana’s hand amidst my brother’s confused look. Ana slowly puts her hand down. Kate scowls at me, misunderstanding Anastasia’s surprised expression in being handed a glass of champagne the wrong way. “You know, Christian, you need to stop bossing my friend around! If the girl wants to drink a glass of champagne, she can drink it! It’s not a crime you know! You’re worrying her friends!” My eyes darken anger rising in me. I hate people butting into our lives and making assumptions. “Yeah, dude! Why won’t you let her drink? Even if she can’t handle her drink, I’m sure one glass is not that bad!” Elliot says. “Here, Ana dear, I’ll give you mine. I didn’t touch it yet!” Mia hands her glass of champagne, then she slaps my shoulder, trying to reprimand me. “Stop! Stop! Stop! Everyone needs to stop their misplaced concerns for me!” Ana shouts. All of them fall silent when my quiet Ana raises her voice at the guests in the house. “Yes, I have had a concussion, a fractured skull, damaged ribs, muscles and tissues recently. I also threw up in my dad’s hospital room rather spectacularly and unglamorously making everyone concerned for me. But I’m not sick,” she says stopping. “Well, at least not the way you think,” she qualifies. “What do you mean, not the way we think?” Ana sighs. She looks up at me, and I extend my hand to her, nodding. I pull my wife under my arm, our hands clasped. My Mom and Dad both smile at us reassuring. “We wanted to wait to tell you this. But I guess it can’t be kept hidden for long because everyone is getting concerned for my health, mistaking my morning sickness with my the concussion I've. The reason I am sick now, or I have been sick recently is because Christian and I are expecting a baby…” There is a deafening silence at first as if this was the last thing they expected to hear, but the second Anastasia's words register, I hear the loudest two shrieking girls who are jumping up and down. The next thing I know is that Ana is being tugged out under my

arm as if two particularly vicious bridesmaids are fighting over the bride’s flower bouquet. All this is to give my wife the first congratulatory hug! “Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Ohmygod!” Mia shouts in rapid-fire as if she lost her ability of speech other than ‘oh-my-god!’ She pulls Ana into her embrace fighting for that first hug like the fullback trying to protect the quarterback from the opposing team; namely Kate. “A baby! A little baby! Ana, I’m so happy for you!” Kate shouts shoving my sister out of the way catching her prize bouquet in the form of my wife and hugging her tightly. “You have a baby here?” she asks splaying her hand over Ana’s flat belly after finally letting go of Ana. “Such a miracle!” Kate gushes. Katherine Kavanagh actually gushes and is happy for her friend. Mia takes her place on the other side of Ana. Both my sister and Kate talk over each other completely overjoyed. Well, maybe a woman's pregnancy alters all her friends' behavior. “Well, Christian helped, I couldn’t have created a miracle on my own,” Ana smirks looking up at me. “Congratulations bro! I’m so happy for you man!” Elliot says hugging me genuinely happy for us. “You do know how to do it after all little bro!” he says jokingly slapping my arm with one hand good naturedly. “Oh, shut up, Elliot!” I faux chide him. “Seriously bro! I’m very happy for both of you. I really am! Our family is growing! This does call for celebration. Mrs. Jones, can we get something non-alcoholic for Ana?” he calls out. “Coming right up!” Mrs. Jones replies cheerfully. Both my dad and my mom come and hug me overjoyed. Ethan Kavanagh looks like he is attempting to smile after he lost a bet and had been forced to swallow a rather nasty bug. “Congratulations to you both,” he says in a flat voice with that awkward smile. The clasp of his handshake is weak. “Isn’t that wonderful Ethan?” Mia bursts with excitement holding his arms with utter, undiluted joy.

“Yes, great news,” he says with an attempted but failed enthusiasm. “Cheers!” he says lifting his glass up to me, and empties his drink with a single gulp. Ahhh! Another disappointed admirer. Who knew? Our baby, my baby has been deterring other admirers faster than fist fight between two men in a pissing contest who are in love with the same woman. My child is the proof that they lost the pissing contest and conceded rather grudgingly to my purchase, my brand of ownership of my wife. It’s fucking interesting that if my wife tattooed my name and my possession of her over her arm in bold red ink, it would not have deterred any of them as much as the lima bean size baby she’s carrying inside her! That’s my kid there. I pull my wife into my arms, canoodling her. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I place my hands are over her belly, silently declaring my territory. But my declaration couldn’t have been louder if I were shouting it. Anastasia’s breath hitches, and a sweet blush creeps up to her hairline with my show of affection and ownership of our baby. She twists her head to look up at me. I descend my lips over hers and kiss her chastely. Both my parents hold each other smiling, seeing our joy. My brother pulls Kate into his arms, and they hug each other. My sister goes to Kavanagh and holds Ethan’s hand. He has another glass in his hand. This time it’s a tumbler with an amber liquid in it. As Mia hugs him with a giddy excitement, he downs his drink and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. Yep! It’s not just Jose Rodriguez. Ethan Kavanagh is jealous, as well. But at least he does his best to hide it. Yes, this is my woman pregnant with my child. “Oh! When is the due date?” Mia asks. “Why don’t we all sit?” I direct them to the large sectional. I seat Anastasia next to me, and place my arm around her. I hold both her hands in one of mine. “Well, come on Ana, when is the baby due?” Kate asks excitedly. “I’m only 8 weeks and 4 days pregnant. So my due date is either May 11 thor 12th. My doctor said that she can be able to give us a more definite date as the baby grows in size. But I imagine that it’s going to be around the same date, give or take a few days,” she replies. “May? Oh, no! Do we have to change the wedding date? Because, if we have the wedding around your due date we might risk my maid of honor going into labor. If we

schedule it after, you might still be recovering and maid of honor dress may not fit as you grow bigger, or we may not have the correct size right after you have the baby!” Jesus! The things women worry about! “Kate… Kate… Relax baby! We have about 7 or 8 months until our wedding. I’m sure my brother can afford to have two dresses made for his lovely wife if it comes down to it.” “Elliot, I’m not worried about dresses! I’m not that shallow! I just want to make sure that my best friend Ana is my maid of honor. The place my parents are thinking of having the wedding schedules a year in advance! I have to get the dates right to ensure that Ana can be my maid of honor!” I’ve never seen Katherine Kavanagh close to hyperventilating. It would actually be funny to watch her if it wasn’t raising Anastasia’s concern. “Kate, I will see my doctor in about two weeks. I’m not exactly sure but I think we can have the due date with very close approximation. She did also say that first babies are almost always a little late. I think it would be safer if you have the wedding before we have the baby. I may not feel well enough immediately after the baby to attend the rehearsal, or tire easily.” “Oh! This is sooo exciting! Isn’t it Ethan? Christian and Ana are going to have a baby right around the date Kate and Elliot are getting married! Our family is growing!” gushes Mia excitedly holding his hand. He tries to smile wordlessly, nodding his head. “Do you think you’ll have a baby right away Elliot, like Christian and Ana are having?” My brother is speechless for a change. “Jesus, Mia! We haven’t even gotten married yet, and you’re asking about the children we’re going to have. Give the man a chance!” he replies nervously. “Yeah, Elliot! You two should have a baby right away to grow up with his or her cousin,” I get him back for his earlier jokes. “Touché, Christian,” Elliot answers, crimson. “Well, to Ana and Christian who are going to make us proud grandparents!” my dad raises his glass. “Hear, hear!” we raise our glasses.

*****❦ ♡ ❧***** We send off my family on their way. I turn to Anastasia. “How do you think our revelation went?” I ask. “Well, Christian, it went fine once we manage to reveal my pregnancy. But holy hell! My friends have more hormones and mood swings in expressing their concern over me which I find a little annoying…” she responds. “Once again, Anastasia, you have an uncanny ability of understating,” I say shaking my head. “Come, time for bed.” I pull her hand towards our bedroom. “But we have dishes in the kitchen.” “Mrs. Jones can handle them. Right now, I want to take my wife to our bedroom, and get her ready for bed.” “Yes, Sir!” she says, stopping me in my tracks. I turn around to look at Anastasia; my gaze is darkened and my nostrils are flaring. I tug her, and pull her flush into me. I examine her face. She deliberately bites her lower lip. “Mrs. Grey, you know how to turn me on with one single word. Do you know how hot you look right now?” She shakes her head wordlessly. “Don’t bite your lip,” I whisper huskily pulling her chin. “I want to do that,” I murmur leaning down, and pulling that delectable lip between my teeth. She groans, her hands reaching up to my face and moving onto their entanglement with my hair. The gentle kiss starts the fire and deepens. Her tongue hesitantly makes its way into my mouth licking in gentle strokes, almost caressing. Finding my tongue, our sensual tango starts. Swallowing each other’s moans, we kiss and merge our souls. When we break our kiss, we are both breathless. “What you do to me, Anastasia!” I murmur. “You and your powerful magic. You put me under your spell. I see nothing else, hear nothing else, and lose myself in you.”

“What about you Christian? I lose my reason with you.” I look at my for a long minute, my gaze darkens, my desire grows for her. Welch has left a text message asking me to call him when it’s convenient. Well, it’s not convenient right now. “Well, Mr. Grey…” Anastasia whispers. “What do you want to do?” “You. Bed. Now!” “Yes, Sir!”

*****❦ ♡ ❧*****

I wake up before the first daylights seep through our window. Anastasia is still sleeping. As usual, I’m wrapped around her like the victory flag. God! I love this woman! I gaze at her for a moment. The sheet is barely covering the tops of her breast. Her hair is spread over her pillow. Her left arm is extended over to my pillow in its nightly quest for me. He other arm is crossing over her breast above the sheets. Her lips are slightly parted; she looks like a sleeping angel. I slowly get up and go to my closet. There in one of the shelves, I take my present she bought the day she took the Jet ski during our honeymoon. The Nikon.

My feet slowly pat back to our bedroom. I take several pictures of Anastasia as she’s in her slumber. The sound of the shutter makes Anastasia shift in the bed. I stop, stay completely silent. She rolls over, her arm going down onto her belly. Even in her sleep, she’s attempting to protect our baby. I take a few more pictures without waking her up, and take my camera back to its location in the closet where I like to keep it handy to take pictures of candid moments like these. I put on my sweats to go work out. I need to use my excess energy if I have to convince my wife to spend half the day at home. Just as I walk out of the closet, Anastasia tries to run to the bathroom in a hurry as if she’s on fire. “Ana?” I run after her concerned. “Sick…” she says unable to bring the rest of her response, she deposits the contents of her stomach into the toilet, heaving. I pull Anastasia’s hair into a makeshift ponytail as she kneels before the toilet with shaky legs and arms. Fuck! Is this normal? Is this what Ray, Jose and Mr. Rodriguez have seen yesterday? I think Anastasia puked all she can, but I can see her belly working to expel anything that might be within her tummy. She has goose bumps all over her body, and her nipples are puckered, but what I feel is anything but sexual. She’s still heaving. With shaky hands she flushes the toilet. Attempt to stand up, but her legs are wobbly. Just one bout with her morning sickness left Anastasia weak, shaking and drained. For a minute, I see what Rodriguez seen. I would have been worried to see her like this if I didn’t know what exactly was wrong with her. Hell! I know what is wrong with her and I’m worried. Is this morning sickness supposed to be this violent? Would it force her body to expel the baby? Shit! I know nothing about this pregnancy thing… “Ana, baby?” I ask trying to gauge how she is. “I need to brush,” she says color drained of her face. She’s not just pale, but she’s yellow. She has sweat beaded on her forehead. With unsteady shaky hands, she tries to put some toothpaste on her toothbrush. I steady her hand with the toothbrush with one hand, and deposit the toothpaste with the other. Our gazes meet in the mirror. Hers bewildered, mine scared, fearful for her. I have meetings this morning. But I sure as hell won’t be going to work when my wife is like this. I’m taking today off, and so is Anastasia. Then, I’ll send Taylor to buy me the

pregnancy books. I need to read them today, and find out what she… no, what we have to go through with her pregnancy. It dawns on me then. This is why Anastasia has never told me she had morning sickness. She knew I’d be fucking protective of her. Once she finishes brushing her teeth and rinsing her mouth with mouthwash, shakily she deposits her toothbrush into the cup by the sink. Then her hand runs to her mouth again, and lightning speed I rush her to the toilet. “You’re not going to work this week!” “Chris…” she starts protesting, but can’t finish it when she heaves her stomach acids into the toilet because there’s no content left to puke out. “Fuck! Ana!” I’m shaking in seeing my wife drained of energy and color. She's about to pass out! “Mrs. Jones!” I shout from the bathroom as Ana continues to heave. “Mrs. Jones!! Gail!” I hear rushing footsteps towards our bedroom. There’s more than one pair. Hearing Anastasia hurling, Mrs. Jones rushes in to the bathroom, and leans down. “Ana, dear, I’ve got you,” she says soothingly. “Mr. Grey?” I hear Taylor. “Taylor, call Mrs. Grey’s doctor. Dr. Greene… She needs to get here right now!” Anastasia’s my everything. I can’t… I just can’t lose her like this… I didn’t know. I just didn’t know she was getting this sick. Guilt, fear, and worry drown me. The Boom Circuits – “Everything and Nothing”

“Mr. Grey?” “Hmmm…” I answer absently. “Could you sir?” “Could I what?”

“Bring me a t-shirt, and shorts for Mrs. Grey.” “Sure… yes, shorts,” I say absently trying to gasp for breath. If Ana is gone, I have nothing. I can’t have that. “Mr. Grey!” I look back and find myself just standing in the bathroom. “Shorts and t-shirt, please,” Mrs. Jones enunciates patiently. Ana’s still heaving, and shivering. Shorts and t-shirts. Then the doctor. Maybe, maybe pregnancy is not the best thing for Ana's health. Fuck! She’ll hate me for asking this… I just can’t have a dead wife. I can’t. I’ll go mad. Shit! Shit! Shit! Doctor… Wait for the doctor. I take a deep breath and walk into the closet to fetch… What was I going to fetch?

CHAPTER XII

Intruder’s Intrusions

“Mr. Grey! Could you hurry back with the shorts and the t-shirt, sir? I need your help!” Gail’s voice brings me back to my senses. I take the first t-shirt and pair of shorts my hands can reach and rush back to the bathroom where Gail is trying to prevent Anastasia from merging with the cold bathroom floor. I take note of my wife is slumped over the toilet while Mrs. Jones has wrapped her hair over her wrist and holding her head up with her other hand on Ana's waist. When I reach to the toilet, Gail breaks about a foot long toilet paper and wipes Ana’s face, tossing it into the toilet, pulls Ana back and flushes. “I’ll hold Mrs. Grey, and you put the t-shirt on her, sir,” she directs me. I nod, still upset. Gail holds my wife back, and I quickly dress her with the t-shirt which comes below her hips. I insert each foot into the shorts and pull it up. Then I hold my wife up in my arms; carry her back into our bedroom. “Ana, baby,” I coax her to talk to me. “Mrs. Jones, can you go see what’s keeping Taylor and the Doctor?” “Yes, sir.” “I’m okay, Christian,” breathes Anastasia, barely coming back to her senses. She appears very weak in my arms, nearly ready to pass out again. “It’s just morning

sickness. Could you get me some crackers, and club soda? Please?” she asks, her voice is very weak. “Yes… right, crackers, and…” “Club soda,” she adds in a soft voice. After carefully depositing my wife onto our bed, I get up to go. “Christian!” “Yes?” I turn to her with wary eyes. “Could you put the trash basket next to me, just in case…” I can only nod in response. I’m tied up in knots inside. This baby is wreaking havoc on her body. I put the trash basket next to her side of the bed. I notice Sawyer hovering by the door outside. “Sawyer, bring Mrs. Grey some crackers and club soda!” I order. “Sir,” he replies and disappears. Anastasia moves in the bed, trying to sit up. “Ana, for God’s sake, lie down!” I snap at her. “Christian, I need to go take a shower. I don’t want to be late to work,” she mutters, wobbly even as she sits on the bed. “No! No! No! You are not going to work today! You know what the doctor said yesterday. You are not allowed to go anywhere until Dr. Greene gets here and examines you.” “Christian…” she tries to protest. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you about the morning sickness episodes I had. You get too worried. It’s normal. Most pregnant women go through this…” she says and another heaving bout shakes her body. I run to her sides, and lift the empty trash basket just under her head while supporting her with the other hand. “I don’t care if this is the norm for every woman! I’m not married to every woman. I’m married to you, and responsible for your well-being. And right now, you’re not well,” I murmur decidedly.

Sawyer walks in with a tray full of assorted crackers and a bottle of club soda. “I wasn’t sure what kind she needed,” he says sheepishly. Mrs. Jones and Taylor come in. I raise a quizzical eyebrow to Taylor. “She’s on her way. She should be here in the next hour.” “An hour?” I shout. “Christian, please…” Ana reprimands me, “my heads is pounding.” “Yes, sir. I woke her up. She’s going to get ready and drive here,” Taylor whispers his answers as soft enough to not to wake a sleeping baby. Anastasia reaches the tray Sawyer brought and takes a Saltine cracker with a trembling hand. Worry clouds my eyes. I look up to Mrs. Jones and Sawyer as if they hold the answers to the mysteries of a woman's pregnancy. “Ana, dear, I’ll go make you a nice chicken broth. It will supplement the electrolytes you’ve lost and you can eat it with your crackers,” Mrs. Jones says as she leaves the room. “Christian, I should go to work. I have piles of manuscripts to go through. I have three meetings scheduled today, and I’m going to meet one of our authors for a possible release date.” “Ana,” I try to rein in all my patience. “You have just collapsed in the fucking bathroom because you puked all the contents of your stomach and then some! I’m freaking out here, and you are telling me that you’re going to work. The answer is no!” “I’ll be okay. This comes at certain times, and by the time I’m ready to go to work, it should subside!” she argues in a trembling voice. Fuck! Even her voice is not strong enough. I run a frustrated hand over my hair. She takes a sip of the club soda and makes a face. Nibbling on her cracker, she finishes one, and takes another to her lips. Both Taylor and I watch her consume her cracker. She washes it down with another gulp of her club soda from the bottle. “You need to drink a little more water. You’re too pale,” I murmur. I lean down and place my lips on her forehead taking her temperature. She’s not hot; in fact she’s too

cold to my touch. She also has cold beads of sweat covering her eyebrows. Her eyes are too wide; her alabaster skin is too pale, too yellow as if someone drained her of blood. “I’ll go see what’s keeping Dr. Greene, if you don’t need me now, sir,” says Taylor. I nod. He quickly departs our room nodding Sawyer to come with him. “I think I should go to work at least after lunch time. Dr. Greene said I could work part time. We were supposed to try the schedule, remember?” she says as she lifts the bottle up to her lips with the slight shake of her hands. She’s still trying to negotiate with me. If only she knew the worry I have in my heart, and the anxiety she’s giving me by consistently trying to do what she wants instead of what is good for her. “Maybe you can let Roach know that I’ll be in this afternoon. Hannah can reschedule the meetings…” she says. I have to hand it to her persistence, but I’m currently in no mood or desire to give into her capitulations. “I’ll let Roach know you’re not well, and have Hannah reschedule your meetings with another editor.” “Another editor?” her head snaps back up. “Yes, another editor who isn’t pregnant or at the least…” but I don’t get a chance to finish my sentence. Anastasia forcefully puts the bottle down on the side table in such a hurry that it wobbles in its place and finally unable to come to rest it falls sideways, spilling its contents. For a minute I think she’s doing it to be spiteful, but her head is right inside the trash basket where she deposits the crackers and water she just consumed. In the blink of an eye, she drops the basket to the floor collapsing on to the bed face down. “Anaaa!” I shout, as I try to pull her up into my embrace. What is happening to my wife? Mrs. Jones rushes in after she hears my lament. “This can’t possibly be normal!” I groan to no one in particular as I pick my wife up into my protective embrace. “Sometimes, women have these violent episodes of morning sickness, Mr. Grey. It isn’t the norm, but it is unfortunately normal for a small percentage of women,” Gail replies. “I’m not waiting for the doctor to show up! Get Sawyer or Taylor. We’re driving to the hospital. I’m not going to have a dead wife!” I say rocking Ana back and forth in my arms. Gail’s eyes widen.

A distinct sound of a woman’s heels walking on stone decidedly makes both Gail and I turn our heads in the direction of the door. It’s wide open but the doctor still makes a gesture to knock. She sticks her head into the room with her hair in a damp ponytail. She’s dressed in charcoal cigarette pants, and a cream colored silk shirt with frills. “No need to go to the hospital until I examine my patient,” she says smiling but firmly. “Lay Mrs. Grey down, Mr. Grey,” she orders with authority putting her doctor’s bag down on the bed. When I don’t put Anastasia down, she lifts her head up, arches her eyebrows, and looks up at me with eyes that say, ‘well, I’m waiting!’ I gently, hesitantly lay my wife down who looks even paler. I notice the nurse with scrubs the last minute. “This is my nurse, Erica,” she introduces her to us, and without a break in her speech she continues. “Erica, I need you to place the IV stand right here by the bed. Let’s get her hydrated,” she says. “IV? You’re going to give her IV?” I ask. “Yes, Mr. Grey. And, I’d like you to give room to my nurse so she can hook Mrs. Grey’s arm on the IV line, if you don’t mind please.” “I do mind! Can you explain why the IV? What will you be giving to her?” “Mr. Grey, either I can take ten minutes to explain you while your wife continues to get dehydrated, or I fix the problem, then explain it to you. Which one would you prefer?” “Fix her!” I say sulkily. “Thank you.” The nurse looks up at me with her pupil dilating, her lips part. She looks as if she just forgot what she needs to do. When she falters on her step, Dr. Greene turns to her, looking at her stupefied face trying to get her attention. When she doesn’t, Dr. Greene sighs and reprimands her nurse as well. “Erica! Mrs. Grey needs your attention. Not, Mr. Grey! IV! Now!” she gives her order in a firm, decided manner. “Yes, ma’am,” she answers blushing all the way to her ears. Mrs. Jones quietly slips out of the room.

As the nurse is hooking up the IV line, Dr. Green takes Ana’s temperature, pulse and her blood pressure, recording them on a tablet. She puts the tablet towards the foot of the bed, and busies herself with Anastasia again. My gaze moves onto the contents of my wife’s chart. The words “possible hyperemesis gravidarum,” catches my eyes. What the hell is that? A disease? Her blood pressure is also quite low: 85/50. I take out my Blackberry and enter a search string into Google: “Hyperemesis gravidarum”. “Hi Mrs. Grey. Welcome back!” I hear the doctor saying. A low groan escapes Ana’s lips. My eyes immediately snap up from my Blackberry’s screen to see my wife. “Hi. I’m really okay, Dr. Greene,” Anastasia tries to reassure her. “I just had vomited a lot. That’s all,” she says, stealing a look at me. “Let me decided how well you really are, Mrs. Grey,” Dr. Greene says in her no nonsense voice. “Have you eaten this morning?” “I woke up with an overwhelming urge to expel everything in my stomach. And had three saline crackers and half a bottle of club soda, but…” her voice goes lower. “I’m afraid, they all vacated my stomach,” she says. “Was last night the first time you’ve had a violent episode, or have you had them before?” Anastasia’s eyes drift to my concerned gaze again. She looks at the doctor. “No,” her voice is a whisper. “I see. How many times a day?” “Not a lot…” Anastasia replies evasively. “I need a number Mrs. Grey.” “Maybe like once a day… but only recently, and not as bad as this.” “Are there certain triggers? Certain foods, scents?” “Cafe Latte, and heavy perfumes or scents…” “How long have you been feeling dizzy?”

“About a week. Just gotten worse yesterday though!” she adds quickly for my benefit. I stiffen in my place. She said nothing about these to me. “Along with your dizziness, do you have lightheadedness, blurred vision, fainting?” “She fainted. Last night and today,” I supply. Anastasia breathes out an exasperated sigh. “Christian, I was just hungry, and I had expelled everything in my stomach. That’s why. I’m okay. I’m not really sure if I need the IV,” she says lifting her arm up. “Mrs. Grey, you are dehydrated, and your body is losing electrolytes, vitamins, and fluids. Your blood pressure is dangerously low. You just told me that you are sensitive to odors, and that also may exacerbate some of your symptoms. But, within the last five minutes, you’ve regained your color, and your motor skills steadied. You were shaking earlier. I recommend you to stay at home duration of this week,” she starts saying. “But, I have meetings, and mountains of work piled up!” Ana protests. “Mr. Grey, I will emphasize the importance of Mrs. Grey’s care at this stage,” she says turning to me. “I trust that you will remind her, the importance of her care,” she adds. “Dr. Greene, I’m right here.” “Yes, Mrs. Grey, I realize that. But you are my patient. I’m not pleased to find you in such a dehydrated state where you are still worrying more about your work than about your own health. I will need both of your cooperation for your care, especially yours, Mrs. Grey. You are the one who is carrying this baby.” Anastasia nods immediately, chagrined. “How long? How long will I be in bed, and tied to an IV?” “Once we rehydrate you with this bag, you should be fine. I do however recommend you to have small amounts of food and drink, often. In your particular condition, continuing care is necessary.” “Is it dangerous to the baby?” I ask in a barely audible voice. “No, Mr. Grey. Most pregnant women go through morning sickness, though only some experience it is severely as Mrs. Grey does.”

“Can this pose a threat to my wife’s life?” I ask the question that’s been sitting heavy in the back of my mind. The doctor sighs. Ana’s eyes widen, scared even of my implied question: Is the baby posing a danger to my wife’s life? “Mr. Grey, this is her first pregnancy. And it is true that she’s having severe morning sickness. But it is going to take its course and it will eventually stop around 12 weeks. But, as bad as it may seem, this is healthy…” she says. “Healthy? I wouldn’t use that adjective for what she experienced,” I snort in haughty derision. “It means, Mrs. Grey’s hormones are working. We need to monitor her more often. She needs to stay hydrated, and keep some food down. I’ll prescribe her some medication for nausea, and check on her this evening. If you so desire, we can assign a nurse for her. But, I believe she can manage. She just needs to be kept under observation,” then turning to Anastasia, she adds, “Perhaps, if you stay home this week, it would be better after all, Mrs. Grey,” she says. Anastasia starts opening her mouth, but thinking better of it, she wisely closes it. By the time the nurse is taking the IV line off Anastasia’s arm, my wife is looking and feeling better so much so that she looks as if she wasn’t the one puking her guts out. “Ana, why don’t you lie down for a little longer, and maybe finish the broth Mrs. Jones made for you. I need to have a word with Dr. Greene,” I say. She looks at me with worried, wide eyes. “If it’s about my health, you can ask your questions here,” she challenges. “A husband can still ask private questions, baby,” I respond. The Greene looks from Anastasia to me. “Erica, why don’t you take the IV stand and wait for me outside?” “Yes, Dr. Greene,” says Erica, and scuttles out of the room with the IV stand and now the empty IV bag dangling from the hook on top of it. She closes the door behind her.

“Mr. Grey, why don’t you take a seat?” Dr. Greene points to a chair. “Mrs. Grey, I’m sure you both have questions after last night’s and this morning’s episodes. Mr. Grey, you still look much shaken. I will answer all your questions as best as I can. I’m sure Mrs. Grey also has questions and concerns since she’s the one who is experiencing the symptoms.” She looks at us both. “Is the baby hurting my wife?” I ask. My jaw is tight; my lips are thinned into a grim line. My eyes look worried; scared even. Anastasia looks at me shocked. “Well, Mr. Grey, this is a valid question after you’ve witnessed Mrs. Grey’s severe morning sickness. But this is part of the pregnancy. Quite a few women go through violent episodes as she has experienced.” “Puking eighteen times in the course of two hours? What if it lasts longer than 12 weeks? This medical source on the web says that it can cause serious maternal and fetal morbidity even maternal and fetal death!” I hiss through my teeth pacing the room. “Christian…” Ana calls out to me her voice soft and concerned. “Ana! I need to know!” I say in agony. Then I turn to Doctor Greene, “Is this baby killing my wife?” Fear oozes from every pore. Ana looks at me horrified. “No, Mr. Grey. The baby is where it should be, tucked inside your wife’s womb properly. We even managed to hear a steady and healthy heartbeat.” “But, why the fainting? She’s drained of color so fast, I… I panicked. I didn’t know what to do! If I were to protect my wife from another person, or an intruder, I could put myself between her and the offender. But how can I protect her against her own body? Tell me how, Doctor Greene?” I plead. “Oh, Christian!” Anastasia croons extending her hand out to me, sitting upright in our bed. My traitorous body always responds to her, and I find myself walking towards her immediately without a second thought. “I’m glad you’re asking the questions that are worrying you Mr. Grey. Every pregnancy carries its own risks. There are women who have had no symptoms; no ailment during pregnancy may end up having a difficult birth, and vice versa. There are no guarantees. This is where you come in. You can protect Mrs. Grey by making sure she’s taking her vitamins, staying hydrated, eating properly, and exercising to later help during birth, and when she has craving, you make sure they’re fulfilled. Her body will adjust.”

I shake my head. “I need guarantees Doctor Greene! Is this baby killing my wife or not?” I ask, not finding the answer I required from her in the first place, my gaze chards of ice. I can’t take the torment of seeing her hooked into an IV line, or faint daily. It’s ripping me apart inside. “Christian!” Anastasia shouts in disappointment, pulling her hand out of mine. “How could you possibly think that?” “Anastasia, your well-being is more important to me than my own life,” I say softly as if talking to a small child. “No, Mr. Grey, the baby isn’t killing her. But no one can give you any guarantees. This is not business; it’s life. You will have to trust that Mrs. Grey’s body will adjust within the next four weeks. I nod stiffly. “About my work… I feel up to working. I think I should still try to go to work this afternoon.” “Absolutely no!” I hiss. “Christian I should…” “Do you want to argue about that too, Anastasia?” I ask. “I’m sorry Mrs. Grey, but I will have to agree with Mr. Grey on that. You need rest. In light of the speed in which you have gotten dehydrated today, it would mean a trip to the emergency room from work quite often. Because we do get busy with the amount of work we have to accomplish and most often pregnant women forget to eat and drink. Besides it would only be counterproductive for the other people working in your company if they have to rush you to hospital's emergency room often. You should only work from your home for the time being until you have mastered over your morning sickness. Doctor’s orders!” she says firmly. Dr. Greene hands me the prescription for Anastasia and some sample medication for Anastasia’s nausea. She talks to my wife about the importance of resting, hydrating, vitamins, eating and taking proper care of herself until she’s blue in the face. When Doctor Greene tells Ana to indulge when she has cravings, because it’s one time she can get away with it, my wife nods wordlessly as she blushes profusely.

“I’ll walk you out, Dr. Greene,” I say, and lead her out. As I turn to talk to her, she looks up at me with knowing eyes. “Before you say it, and regret it later Mr. Grey, I’ll save you the trouble. Mrs. Grey is healthy enough to carry her child to full term. Is it possible that she could have a difficult pregnancy? Yes, very possible. But, we have the latest medical technology, and Mrs. Grey can have all of that at her disposal. I’m the best OBGYN in Seattle and as such, in my eighteen years career, I’ve never lost a patient during pregnancy or birth.” “But you’re not giving me any guarantees!” “Mr. Grey, no one can give you that. Women have been having babies since the beginning of time. I assure you that as hard as it may seem to you, this is a natural process. If you’re concerned about Mrs. Grey, why don’t you bring her to your work part of the time to keep an eye on her and that way she could also be leaving the house for a change.” “Can I do that?” “Sure, why not? But not today, maybe tomorrow. She seems exhausted today. Let’s see how she feels the rest of the day.” Taylor leads the doctor out of the foyer. I feel a heavy weight bearing down on me. The kind of worry I feel is hurting me deep into my soul. It’s different than what I felt before when she said she was leaving me, or when I found her nearly lifeless on the cold concrete. And this fear, too, is vastly unwelcome. Because, it’s my wife’s own body that’s hurting her; the same body I’m trying to protect. I feel helpless and tied up in knots inside. Instead of going back to my bedroom, I walk towards my study. I need a change of pace. Deal with another problem I can resolve. Seeing my grim face on a different note, Taylor follows me. “Did Welch call you?” “Yes, sir. I have in fact just got off the phone with him.” “What’s his conclusion?” “He thinks Mrs. Lincoln is telling the truth.”

“That’s yet to be seen…” I murmur and dial Welch. “Mr. Grey,” comes his deep voice though the speaker of my Blackberry. “Tell me what you have discovered after you interviewed Mrs. Lincoln…” “She repeated exactly what she told you, however I have discovered something else,” he says and I look at him carefully. “What?” “I wondered why Mr. Lincoln might have called her. Why not make the same threat to you directly. It occurred to me that Lincoln was trying to instill fear in all the people who got the message: You, Mrs. Lincoln and Mrs. Grey in anticipation of what he might do. If he manages to hurt you, he’ll hurt Mrs. Grey who loves you and Mrs. Lincoln who seems to care about you. If he hurts Mrs. Grey, well, I don’t have to explain that. So, he left a question mark. Maybe an implied challenge. A duel if you will. Or simply a perpetual unease… Even if he didn’t do anything, he wants you to be uncomfortable. He wants you to always watch over your shoulder.”

I realized that I’ve been holding onto the table so tight, my knuckles are white. I know Lincoln can’t sue me, because he signed himself out of a job. But he’s challenging me implicitly. “I want two things: I want you to locate the money he’s hidden. I also want him to be watched 24/7 for the next 6 months. If he does anything out of line, anything out of the scopes of law, I want to know immediately.” No one threatens my family, and gets away with it. Lincoln is either going to jail, or to his grave. I don’t care which.”

“Interesting enough, he just left town.” “What?” “He went on a Caribbean vacation.” What the hell does that mean? You threaten someone and take off. “He was pissed off yesterday. He made a threat to his ex-wife, but the threat implied to harm me and my family, and then he took off on a vacation. What am I missing here?” I start pacing my study. Taylor’s eyes follow my movements. “Since our discovery of Lincoln paying Hyde’s bail until today, all of Lincoln’s behavior had been rash, impromptu decisions where he didn’t have 100% of the control. Hyde’s success in his mission was dependent on Hyde. An element Lincoln didn’t know well and he certainly didn’t have control over. He’s not going to involve someone else. Whatever he does, we’ll have to expect either from him, or where he has greater control of the outcome of what he does. But for him to reach you in any shape or form, he needs to penetrate through our layers of security. He can’t do that with Lincoln Timber gone from his disposal.” Danger Zone - Kenny Loggins

“He still has the fucking millions which can accomplish a lot! Did Mrs. Lincoln know anything about them?” I shout. “No, sir. It was pretty clear that she didn’t. He never included her in his business affairs. She was just a trophy wife, an arm candy, or a possession like his former company, the Lincoln Timber. She has no clue where he might have put the money. But judging by what we found in his office, I’m betting that he has it in cash stashes put away in different places he might own. The account information we’ve found are still his accounts obviously and he will be able to access them. He’s not hurting for money at the moment.” “I don’t want to wait until he finds the chink in my armor as he's biding his time. Get your men sniffing around and find out what his next move will be. And find his fucking lawyer, the one who did his dirty work. If Lincoln’s always used that fucker, he may be a gold mine of information. See what he knows.”

“I’ve already thought of that sir, and my men have been dispatched. I will keep a tight leash on him. But keep him on the loose; use him as bait. If Lincoln will use his services or someone he knows, we’ll know about it. Whatever he is intending to do, he won’t do it now. Because if Lincoln wishes to do some harm, he is going to have to determine how, where and when to strike. He won’t succeed in it by giving you a heads up. I think his initial expectation is that he is going to make you uneasy. Even if he shelves this desire for a long time, he wants to send you a message by telling you to always look over your shoulder. He’s daring you…” says Welch pausing. He has tried that yesterday. He goaded me, trying to get me into attacking him, to have the upper hand. It’s the same tactic. But I don’t want to take a chance where my family’s safety is concerned. “This is what I want: I want him to be tracked. I want to know who he talks to, who he sleeps, eats, fucks, and who he associates with. When you give me your report, I even expect to know who his kindergarten teacher is! Know him well enough to determine what he thinks and what his next move will be. By identifying my family a target, threatening them, he made himself into a target! Congra-fucking-tulations! He just earned himself a fucking bounty on his own damned head!” The door to my study opens and Anastasia catches my last sentence. Her eyes widen with fear and apprehension after hearing what I had uttered in pure rage. “Welch, report me back soon!” I say hanging up. I walk up to my wife, but don’t touch her. I don’t want to scare her. “Ana, are you feeling alright?” I ask softly, my gaze softening. “Yes,” she says distracted. “Who were you talking about?” I look at Taylor, and he leaves the study immediately. Hiding this, coupled with my earlier behavior in light of her morning sickness could cause a bigger threat. I don’t want Linc’s threats to be a self-fulfilling prophesy. “I was talking to Welch about Linc.” She blinks. “Linc? Why?” “He’s made a threat against me and those I love to Elena.” “Elena?” she asks, her eyes growing colder and harder. “How do you know? I thought you weren’t supposed to talk to Elena.”

“And I’m not. Elena called to inform me of the threat he passed onto her, and I've had Welch verify it. Considering what had transpired with Mia and your kidnapping, I’m not taking a chance risking your well-being. I’m telling you this because I want you to keep trusting me.” She is silent for a moment, assessing. “He’s threatened you as well?” “Yes,” I whisper. “But, I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about you and our baby,” I say and feel the overwhelming truth in it. Even though the baby causing Anastasia to weaken and get sick which is scaring the shit out of me, the implied threat by Lincoln is bringing the fierce protector out of me. “You’re worried about the baby? I thought… I thought…” “You’re always going to be my primary worry, Anastasia. I panicked, and I am going to panic even more as we adjust to the stages of your pregnancy. Anything that hurts, you hurts me..." I say gazing at her, showing how vulnerable I have become in light of everything that has happened to her. "But I am trying to understand the process of pregnancy, and it’s not easy to not have control over something such as this. Something you want…” I say then correct myself, “someone we want has to hurt your body to be here with us. It terrifies the hell out of me!” I whisper. She catches a glimpse of the fear in my eyes, and her gaze locks with mine as her hands reach up to my face to cup it. I lean in to her touch. “Don’t you have to go to work today?” she asks changing topics. “When you are sick? Ana, you collapsed in my arms! Do you think I can think of going to work when you’re unwell?” I have meetings, and piles of work but none of it is as important as my wife. I have number of very well paid people who can take the load off me occasionally. “Actually, I’m feeling much better after the IV, Mrs. Jones’ broth with crackers and the nausea medicine,” she says. What is she asking me? “If you think you’re going to work because you’re feeling better for the last ten minutes, you are completely mistaken Mrs. Grey,” I warn her. She purses her lips in contemplation. “What did you mean by bounty on his head?” she asks. Anastasia is all over the map today, jumping from topic to topic.

“Nothing you should worry about baby. The only thing you need to worry about is this little one, and your well-being.” “Christian, I don’t want to be back to square one. I appreciate you sharing the information about Linc’s threat, but I need to know if there is anything else that’s bothering you. Should I be worried about Elena?” she asks with poorly concealed jealousy. “Ana, I’m telling you all about it because I need you to trust me. Linc called Elena and made an implied threat which I am taking seriously in light of what he had done by unleashing Hyde seeing a potential opportunity to hurt me and my family. In return I fucked him up by dismantling his beloved company. Now, he’s seeking to find a way to take his revenge. I need to know you’re protected. By making an implicit threat against the ones I love, against you, he put a bounty on his own head. I will never, ever let anyone to hurt you. Not ever!” Anastasia swallows. “You’re not thinking of killing him, are you Christian?” she asks in a whisper, petrified. I shake my head. “No,” I say with half-truth. I won’t kill him now, but at the first sign that he attempts to hurt my family, I won’t hesitate to hurt him the way he intends to hurt those I love. “But I have to keep eyes and ears on him so that everything he does are monitored. At least for the next six months. At which time, I will reassess the situation. This is for our peace of mind.” “And what about Elena?” “Elena is not my concern; you are! You and our baby,” I say splaying my hand over her flat tummy. “Incidentally, how do you feel now?” “Great, actually. Just hungry for eggs, pancakes, bacon, and spreadable chocolate on French bread,” she says blushing. “French bread only?” I ask raising my eyebrows. “For now,” she whispers. “Come, let’s feed you,” I say tugging her out of my office.

*****❦ ♡ ❧***** The rest of yesterday had been uneventful. But, I’m not holding my breath of the same good luck for today. I decide to work at home at least in the morning to keep an eye on my wife’s symptoms. I shower early and work out before Anastasia wakes up. When I come back I don’t find her in the bed. “Ana!” I shout. Her response comes from the bathroom in the form of a gurgle. I rush to find her slowly rising up from the sink. She puts the cap back on the mouthwash. “I’m not fainting today,” she says smiling. “It’s nothing like yesterday.” “Don’t spare my feeling Ana. I need to know you’re okay! You have to tell me if you’re not well so I can properly take care of you,” I chide her. “Relax, Christian. I’m okay.” She turns the shower water on as she heads to the sink to brush her teeth. She divests her t-shirt off, then her panties. My gaze is unwavering from her body. I can’t help but stare at her beautiful shape. Her breasts are growing in size, fuller. Her nipples are beaded tight under my gaze. She has goose bumps forming on her skin. I quickly divest my clothes off carelessly. Anastasia smiles knowing the kind of effect she has on me. Her gaze slowly assesses my body. My cock pulses with the intensity of her stare. She absently licks her lower lip, and bites it. “Ana…” I say gruffly pulling her chin down freeing her lower lip. “You’re unwell.” “Well, Mr. Grey. I remember Dr. Greene telling you to fulfill all my cravings. Doctor’s orders…” she says shrugging. “Unless of course if that order can be broken, I think her order of me not going to work can also…” I don’t let her finish. My mouth descends on hers lightning speed, capturing her lips, taking, not asking. I suck on her lower lip and slightly run my teeth through it, swallowing her hungry groans. I slowly walk my wife into the showers backward. The cascading water washes us with renewed passion. Her hands are lacing in my wet hair, pulling me to her, working hard to merge our bodies.

“Slow down, baby,” I murmur. “Please,” she pleads. My lips slide down to her chin and I nip her. “Please, Christian! I need you!” she begs. “Turn around,” I order. She obeys immediately; her chest heaving up and down. “Hands on the wall,” I say and she presses her palms over the tiles in the shower. Using my feet, I spread her legs. I squeeze some shower gel into my palm and lather it. I start with her shoulders, and knead her muscles with my soapy hands. I run my hands up and down on her sides in circles, and cup her breasts. Kneading her aching mounds, I pull and elongate her nipples between my thumb and forefinger, teasing and pinching them. My right hand goes lower on her chest, traveling down to her belly, over her pubic bone and then to the folds of her tight sex making her gasp. I merge my body with her from behind, my cock lying heavy on her lower back digging in. My fingers tease and run over her slit, feeling the creamy sleekness, inviting me in. When I dip one finger, she gasps and gyrates her hips, desperately trying to get some friction.

“Slow down, Ana,” I order. But she won’t listen. She moans begging for more. “No! Faster!” she begs. I don’t want to push her to her limits. She’s been fragile lately. “I need more. I need faster!” She arches her back, and her breasts are thrusted into my hands aching for my touch, and desperate for attention. Seeing her weak in the past two days is making me extra vigilant as if she’s going to collapse in my arms unexpectedly. My wife wants to be reckless as usual. I need to take her in a slow pace. Realizing my intention she turns her face to me. I look at her questioningly; my hand is suspended in air. Without a word she squeezes the shower jell into her palm, lathers and holding her hand up in a gesture to indicate she’s going to wash me. I nod. She places her hands on my pectorals, immediately firing up my synapses with her touch. She runs circles on my torso, delicately moving her hands over my belly, my hips, and cups my heavy sack inside her palm. I breathe a sharp intake of breath. With one hand, she grasps the base of my cock. With soapy hands she slicks it and her hand glides up and down. When the circle of her thumb and her forefinger reach the crown of my cock she tightens her grip in an effort to squeeze out precum. I groan with pleasure.

Water washes off the soap which runs down in lazy rivulets from my legs. When she sits on the bench, her hands never leave my cock leading me towards the bench as if she’s going to be there a while. She lifts her wet gaze up to me, and dipping her head, her warm, wet lips encircles the tip. Her tongue meets the crown and laps around it, licking. As if a thousand different sensations run through the tip of my cock, I find my right hand reach out to the shower wall to steady my balance with the onslaught of sensations with my wife’s sudden assault. She is determined to suck me off with such an enthusiasm, she’s about to unman me. At first I don’t know what to make of it. She’s been ill for the past two day. The sight of food would get her off, and get her running to the bathroom. Scents… It would kill me if she had associated any part of me with morning sickness. But, as usual, behaving just the opposite I expect her to behave, Anastasia surprises me. My wife is beyond ravenous for me!

“Anaaa...” I hiss through my teeth in a breathless whisper. “Are… you… quite…ahhh! Sure?” I ask. I don’t want her to stop, but then with her nausea in the sight of the

slightest trigger, I don't want her to go on if it's going to make my wife sick. It would kill me if she’s turned off by me coming in her mouth. Without taking her hands or lips away from my heavy throbbing cock, she lifts her long eyelashes, and looks up at me with her mouth full of my pulsing erection. What she has in her gaze is an unmistakable declaration of possession. Her tongue relentlessly runs around the crown in a near desperation for a taste of me. She sucks me with heavy pulls as if she can’t get enough of me. I thrust forward gently, but she makes sure I know that she wants more. I push again fucking her mouth, only with shallow strokes. But Anastasia pulls me deeper. Looking up at me, asking for more with her gaze. “Christ, Ana!” Being without sex with for the last two days is enough to push me over the edge. “Baby! If you’re not sure, I don’t wanna come in your mouth!” I breathe my head tilting back. In a desperate frenzy, she grabs my buttocks, and encourages me to move in her mouth. An erotic growl escapes my lips from deep within my throat. I slowly move my cock inside the hollow of her cheek, her hand is moving in the space vacated by her lips, and as her fingers retreat, her mouth is taking over my length. I can feel the desperation, the voracious hunger I have not experienced before from her at this overwhelming intensity. I find my other palm also pressed against the wet shower wall as I climax with my wife’s amorous assaults. The sound that comes out of me is completely raw and raspy. I feel the tightening of my balls before I hit the precipice of my climax and spurt thickly into her mouth ready to withdraw, but her right hand grasps my buttock, her nails digging into my flesh in warning as if I’d be taking away her favorite meal. The second pleasure pours out if me, my eyes roll back into my head, and my left hand digs into the wet tendrils of my wife. This is raw, purely carnal declaration of possession, a conquest by my wife. When I come back to my senses and my eyes focus once again, I see my wife licking her lips. The shower water is raining over us; make the water drip from the tendrils of her hair, beading over her body, and running down to the shower floor in a rush. “Christian, I am desperately craving you,” she says with a different kind of hunger as if I haven’t fed her for days, and she’s starving. “I need you so much, I want you to fuck the hell out of me!” she says with fervor and determination. Fuck the hell out of her? Who knew that sex would be what sated her hunger and sedated her body? Once her words register, I look at my wife with an impassive face then my lips curve up in a

semblance of a smile. Fuck the hell out of her… I’m more than happy to oblige. I turn the shower water off, scooping my wife off the floor; I carry her out of the shower. “In the Playroom!” she demands. Fucking the hell out of my pregnant wife in the playroom does not give me an easy feeling. In that setting with my pregnant wife who has been violently ill for the past couple of days, I don’t think if it’s wise. “Ana, I don’t think...” “Please!” she begs desperately. What is this pregnancy doing to her? “I trust you…” she whispers. If my wife wants something, I’ll be the one to provide it for her. But, fucking in the playroom, right after she’s been sick enough to knock her out is not wise, today. “Ana, I won’t take you to playroom this morning. I won’t take the risk. Because if you get sick while I’m touching you, fucking the hell out of you there as you put it, would kill me.” “Christian, I don’t care! I want you! Desperately…” she reiterates. “No playroom today, Ana! I say when! I say how!” I murmur in a determined, unyielding voice. “But I do owe you a handful of orgasms,” I say, giving a lascivious smile moving her into our bedroom in my arms. “Christian…” she protests. “I will take you there, baby. Just not today. Only when I’m convinced that you are better.”

“I am better!” she starts arguing. But before she can start another bout of her protests, I take her mouth, and cover it with mine, effectively quieting her down. My lips are gentle at first, solicitous even. I want to feel my wife first. Feel that she’s well and not just saying she’s feeling better. She slightly parts her lifts as she closes her eyes. Soon enough, she reaches up and pulls my wet hair with her fingers tangled in them, her body pushing into mine, making my erection dig into her belly, curling one leg behind mine, her nipples perked up and two beads taunting me; her entire body is eliciting a response out of me with brutal intensity. Her kiss becomes demanding, assaulting even. It’s a reiteration of her earlier declaration of possession, a hunger and yearning she has for me, almost matching my unquenchable desire for her. It’s impossible to not to reciprocate, and when finally I thrust my tongue almost forcefully into her mouth matching and exceeding her fervor, she gasps. Her right hand lowers, her nails scrape my back enticing me more. A whimper mixed with a pleasure moan escapes her lips and pass into mine. Our need for each other is intoxicating, desperate. My tongue moves in hers with deeper and skillful flicks. Her tongue matches the movements of my tongue, and our fucking the hell out of each other begins in her mouth.

I walk Anastasia backwards to our bed, and when she can no longer move, back of her calves flush with the bed, I push her onto our bed. I fall onto her, suspended only by my elbows. I graze my teeth over her chin, and she arches her neck, lifts her hips up, thrusting her chest to merge with my body in a blatant display of her surrender.

“Eager, Mrs. Grey?” I murmur with a grin as my lips move down her neck. “Yesss,” a whimper escapes her lips. I cup one of her breasts and feel the tight nipple. She’s too wired up, too hungry, too ravenous to be sated with a gentle love making. What she needs is intense, raw, and equally wild fucking. I immediately lift off her, leaving her gazing up in confusion. I try to stifle a grin.

“Where are you going?” she asks as I make my way towards the closet. “To bring the emergency kit,” I respond. The confused look on her face is priceless. I bring out a polished wood box with a few items in it reserved for occasions like these. Anastasia’s gaze follows me wordlessly. I walk to the iPod dock and shuffle through the contents until I fine the music I desire. The deep, bass-baritone voice of Leonard Cohen starts crooning, if she wants a lover, I’m her man. If You Want a Lover – Leonard Cohen I walk towards my wife in arrogant, sultry strides without taking my burning gaze off her. She’s so fucking beautiful. The sight of her can make any man weep for joy. But at the moment, I only wish to fuck the hell out of her just as she asked. I place the box onto the bed next to her, and open it. I take out two sets of handcuffs with soft leather for the restraints. She arches an eyebrow and smiles as her lips part in eager anticipation. I place the cuff to her ankle and buckle the leather strap. Taking the other cuff, I tie it to her elbow which immediately pulls her right leg up exposing her sex swollen with desire. I repeat the process on her left side. Then I lift up the adjustable nipple clamps tied to another with a chain. Her eyes widen, and she sharply intakes a breath. She bites her lower lip in response. Taking her left nipple between my thumb and forefinger I roll it and tug it expertly. A shudder goes through her as she closes her yes, and automatically pushes her breast into my grasp as she arches her back.

“Eyes… open,” I order. When she opens them slowly, they are full of carnal desire. She swallows. I lower my mouth over her breast, and suck it into the wet warmness of my mouth with gusto. Her nipple immediately perks up as I flick it with my tongue. When I’m satisfied with the result, I saddle over her as my erection moving about her body, distracting her, I fasten the clamp over her nipple. I adjust the tightness somewhere in the middle, between pain and pleasure. Repeating the sensual process on her right side, I give a tug of the chain, slightly yanking the nipples. Anastasia’s legs are now wide apart, and pulled upward towards her elbows. When I grasp one of her feet, I graze my teeth on the pad of her sole.

“Agghh!” she groans writhing beneath me.

“Hush now,” I silence her effectively. My lips move their way up from her ankles to the backs of her knees, I locate the point between the two ligaments behind her knee, on the crease formed when her leg is bent. Taking my index and middle finger, I apply gentle pressure between the two tendons. It’s one of the best spots to relieve stress and fatigue, and promote sexual desire. I kneel down and kiss, and suck until I reach her abdomen. I lean into the tendons where her legs join her abdomen and with the heel of my hand, I apply pressure, and then dip my nose into her sex inhaling her deeply. Without even touch her at the apex of her thighs yet, she’s completely aroused and desirous for me. I locate the spot a few fingers below her navel and directly above her bladder and press it gently with three fingers as my tongue swipes the length of her slit. A sharp, involuntary moan rises from her lips. “Christian!”

Folds of her sex bloom open for me; she’s wet, creamy and aroused. My lips cover over her clit and I suck hard, my tongue is teasing over the tip of it relentlessly, setting fire on every nerve ending of her body. I feel her gaze on me, and when I open my eyes, I see her pupils dilated, her irises darkened with abandoned desire. She tries to reach for my hair, but can’t do it without moving her leg, and I push her legs down. She’s helpless against my ministrations as she left me helpless in the shower. Tit for tat. My tongue dips into her sex and tastes her desire for me. I swirl it inside her and fuck her with my tongue in both deep and shallow thrusts of my tongue. She’s forced to absorb the pleasure since she can’t close her legs, and endure the intensity of her orgasm with my name garbled on her lips. Without giving a chance for her rolls of orgasms to subside, I flip my wife over, lifting her buttock up for my pleasure. I plunge my cock in one swift push, and plunge into the depths of her sex. I hold her ass up, and hold in the shakiness waves of her orgasm pulling my cock deeper. Then pulling it back with careful control, I only insert the crown, rubbing it gently, absorbing the ripples of her last orgasm. It jolts through my body in a surge of electricity. My erection is hard, hot, and trembling, aching to reach the depths of her sex, make her groan, make her mine, dominate her sex, and finally let her milk me for all I’ve got for her. I push deeper with the rhythm of the song.

I feel her inner muscles clench, and hug my cock for more, making our intimacy not just fucking, but intensely passionate love making. I pull my cock away from her sex’s embrace as if in a tease, and then thrust it into her welcoming sex over and over again. When I angle her hip, I manage to find the deepest spot, my favorite place on earth located inside my wife. Angulating my hips, I rub onto her spot relentlessly, eliciting more pleasure.

“Oh, please!” Anastasia shouts. I withdraw to prolong the sensation slowly, allowing her ripples of approaching peak to subside for a little while. As soon as it fades, I plunge back again. I continue my delicious torture in and out, in and out. Then I lean down, and as I plunge into her again, I tug her nipple clamps, intensifying the sensations of pain and pleasure, making her sex fist my cock like a tight glove. Her hips meet me thrust for thrust pounding back at me. My balls are heavy and aching, as they rhythmically slap onto her clitoris and increasing her stimulation. As I reach my intense climax, I barely hear Mr. Cohen croon, “If you want a doctor, I’ll examine every inch of you. If you want a driver, climb inside. Or if you want to take me for a ride, you know you can. I’m your man…” I am indeed her man, I think to myself as I spurt my desire, passion and need into her hotly. At the peak of her climax, I tug and pull off the chain of her nipple clamps and she shouts her very intense orgasm. I finally thrust into her four more times, and still; my cock is still lodged deep inside her, my balls effectively slapping onto her clit one last time. Once my vision manages to focus to here and now, I pull out of her with suction. Undoing the cuffs, I release her arms and legs from her restraints. Then, I massage them, and let blood circulate back into her extremities. “Did that meet your expectation of fucking the hell out of you Mrs. Grey?” I ask. “Yessss!” her breathy answer escapes her lips. “All the way!” I grin in response.

*****❦ ♡ ❧***** After our intense fucking, Anastasia dresses in a sexy short white summer dress with straps. Her plunging neckline is distracting. It’s not too deep, but it certainly emphasizes her growing breasts which I don’t want others at home enjoy looking. I say nothing; we had such a wonderful morning, I don’t want to jinx it. Anastasia brings her work, spreading them over the bed, then she sits in the middle of them cross legged. A cursory glance tells me that they’re some of the manuscripts she wants to read. She finally lies down, lifting her calves up as she crosses her legs at the ankle; she absently annotates some of them with a pen. Her cleavage is even more distracting from this angle, but I continue to work on my laptop. As I’m distracted with her cleavage and my work, her ringing Blackberry startles us both. Seeing the caller ID, she frowns then takes a deep breath and answers. My gaze is fixed on her willing her to tell me who it is. Is it the fucker Jose? “Hi mom!” she answers it as cheerfully as she can.

Fuck! Did Jose call her mother too? “Yes, Ray was discharged out of the hospital last night. That’s why you couldn’t find him there,” she says and pauses. “He’s well. Just needs to go to physical therapy for a couple of months. You didn’t call his cell phone?” she asks. I raise my eyebrows. Anastasia turns the speaker on for my benefit. “Of course not, dear. If he was in the hospital and sleeping, I didn’t want to disturb him. When the nurse said he wasn’t there anymore, I had to make sure that he wasn’t transferred elsewhere. That’s why I called you.” “I spent a little time with him after he was discharged. He was driven back to Montesano by friends. But he was remarkably well, mom.” “Oh good! I don’t know how to put this, but I had this uneasy feeling all day yesterday and all day today. I feared that something had happened to Ray. Guess I panicked when the hospital said he wasn’t there.” “Dad’s fine, mom. But, I was sick yesterday.” “What! What’s the matter? Is it related to your injuries? Did you go to the doctor? What hurts? Your head, your ribs? Did your bruises heal? Do you want me to come? Oh sweetie, come on talk to me!” “Mom, let me get a word in edgewise,” Anastasia says rolling her eyes. “Sorry, dear…” “I was sick but it was none of those things that caused me to be in that state.” Anastasia takes a deep breath, and looks at me, locking her gaze with mine. “Mom, I was having morning sickness. I’m pregnant.” First, there is a pregnant pause as if the round penny is taking a few seconds to drop through a square hole, and then a very loud shriek comes through the speaker. “Mother? Mom? Are you okay?”

“Ana!!! I am so happy! Both for you and Christian! Are you really going to make me a grandma?” “Yes, mom,” comes Ana’s hesitant voice. Carla picks up on her hesitation. “What’s wrong honey? You want the baby, don't you?” “Most definitely! I’ve never wanted anything in my life as much aside from Christian,” she murmurs in a low voice looking up at me. “But, I’m having the worst morning sickness ever especially this week. It hit me all of a sudden. I don’t want you to worry about that. We’re trying to get it under control,” she explains. “I’m so sorry sweetheart. Unfortunately, you get that from me. I’ve had them when I was pregnant with you as well. For a while I was losing weight instead of gaining. Your daddy, bless his soul,” she says her voice breaking, “didn’t know how to handle it. I was hospitalized, you see, and they had to feed me through an IV. We both were very young and inexperienced. It worried your father a lot. But there’s light at the end of the tunnel. It lasted only the first trimester. I ate, you grew, and we were in love with you before you were born. I think that got us through that rough patch,” she says. Ana’s throat works on a visibly hard swallow. “Thank you mom,” Anastasia whispers. “For what dear?” “For not terminating me and carrying me through a difficult pregnancy. I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t keep me,” she says and I think it’s for my benefit. “Honey, I wouldn’t change it for anything. Having you gave me a new life, a family of my own. And when you daddy was gone, you were all I had,” she sobs. “I love you mom! Thank you for everything you did for me.” “I love you, too, baby. Tell Christian I said hi and congratulations. Call me anytime you need.” “I will mom. Thank you.” After Anastasia places the phone back on the bed, she looks up at me and says, “Well, that’s everyone…”

“Everyone?” “Yes, everyone’s been informed of our little Blip.” Before I can respond to her comment, it is my Blackberry that buzzes this time. I take it and take a look at the caller. Holding my finger in a gesture that says one minute, I answer. My tone and my gaze immediately turns into a firm one. “Ros! What’s up?” “Mr. Grey, are you cancelling our meeting today?” “If Andrea informed you of its cancellation, you shouldn’t be asking about it, Ros.” “Well, as it happens, it’s a very important meeting, because it involves the final breakthrough our engineering team has made. I had assumed this would be something you would want to participate in since we’ve all had very stressful few weeks.” “Breakthrough? What breakthrough?” “Well, that was the surprise. They may have the solar and or the winding technology they've been working on finally meet your requirements,” she adds. “Really?” I ask with excitement, standing up from my seat instantly. “Yes, really. Of course, I haven’t seen it myself, but I was looking forward to a demonstration. Do you still think you can’t come today?” “Let me call you back.” “Alright, sir. I shall await your call back.” I press the “End” button on my Blackberry. My eyes are ablaze with excitement as I look at Anastasia. She blinks back at me with fervent curiosity. “Anastasia, what say you to going to work with me today?” She purses her lips. “You won’t let me go to my work, but you want me to go to work with you?”

“Yes. I want to show my wife what we have been working on. The cellphone that works with solar and winding energy. The one I wanted to provide to remote places on earth where they have not readily accessible electricity. Of course if it works the way it’s supposed to, I think it can be beneficial for hikers, campers, outdoor enthusiasts who are away from technology for extended periods of time, or even give a surviving chance to a soldier who might be stranded somewhere with no means of communication.” She smiles, remembering. She clearly knows what I like, where my passion lies. She has purchased a few toys for me utilizing the clean energy knowing my passion. “Mr. Grey, take me to work,” she says grinning, and I hold my hand out to her excited with the prospect of taking her to the GEH for the first time since she first stumbled into my office.

Here it is – Leonard Cohen

BOOK IV CHAPTER XIII FIELD TRIP

This is Anastasia’s first time at GEH since she first came to interview me. When the elevator dings open office staff jumps to their feet. “Welcome Mr. Grey,” Andrea says as soon as I exit the elevator. After seeing Anastasia I tug behind me with our hands linked, her eyes widen in surprise. “Mrs. Grey! We weren’t expecting you. Welcome to GEH!” Andrea greets my wife, if a little flustered. Anastasia's gaze narrows on her. “Mrs. Grey can and will show up anytime she wishes at the Grey House or anytime I desire her to come with me. You don’t have a problem with it, do you?” “Of course not, sir! I apologize if I gave any other indication. We’re very pleased to see you Mrs. Grey,” she responds blushing profusely. Anastasia comes to her rescue by responding. “Thank you Andrea,” then turning to me, she asks, “shall we, Christian?”

“We shall, Mrs. Grey,” I reply smiling at my wife. “Andrea, what time is the meeting?” “It’s in 30 minutes sir. But, Ros wanted to see you beforehand. Will you be staying here late sir?” “I don’t know yet. I will go to the meeting, and see Ros. I have not yet decided how late I’ll stay today.” “Yes, sir. Shall I call Ros to come and see you?” “Maybe in five minutes,” I say and tug my wife behind me possessively. The envious and curious looks of my employees surreptitiously follow our departure. I can feel their gaze on our linked hands, my possessiveness as well as the way Anastasia is drawn to me. I can also feel the admiring male eyes scanning and assessing my wife's assets. Taylor opens the door to my office and sweeping my wife up into my arms to her giggling surprise as well as my office employees, I walk Anastasia through the threshold of my office. Taylor holds the door, waiting for my command. I turn to look at him, and for a brief second our gazes lock as he receives his non-verbal order and he remains behind, closing the door after I cross into my office. After Anastasia’s surprise subsides, she knowingly smiles. “Why Mr. Grey, shouldn’t you have carried me through the threshold of the elevator? Technically, this is your floor.” “Mrs. Grey, the building and the company is mine, but this is the heart of all GEH operations, where all decisions are made. This is where the master of this universe dwells. I carried you to the heart of operations which is basically the same thing,” I say smiling. Anastasia’s gaze slips from my face realizing her smiling oversized picture that Jose took proudly displayed on the wall. It has a more prominent place than the Trouton’s art, now. “Oh, Christian,” she says burying her face to my chest. “How could you stand that overtaking image in your office? It's so big... With all the people coming here to do business with you,” she says without finishing her word, she shudders. “I love looking at your smiling picture Anastasia,” I chide her. “You’re my wife, and I’m proud to show it to others that this beautiful woman is mine!” “Don’t you get tired of looking at it?”

“I crave for you. I long to see you all day, and can’t go without hearing your voice for a few hours. You’re the center of my universe. Everything I do is for you. How could I tire of my reason for being, Ana?” I whisper as I lower my lips covering hers. Her arms wrap around my neck. She parts her lips slightly, sighing, in response to my gentle touch; our breaths comingle, the effect of it overtakes me. My wife’s lips are red and moist, and her instant arousal causes her rapid breathing, making me hard instantly. God! I’m one breath away from being turned on, a halfcocked gun in the sight of my wife. I want to devour her. The gentle kiss molding our lips to each other is soon accompanied by my tongue thrusting rhythmically into my wife’s warm inviting mouth. The fierce desire I have for her sometimes inconveniently gives me an erection. And right now, I am turned on. Anastasia kisses me lasciviously, desperately in fact causing me to be mindless with my need for her.

Then we hear Andrea’s disembodied voice over the intercom.

“Mr. Grey, Ros is here to see you, sir.” Our breathing is quick, unison, our lips are melded into one other, our tongue tango is continues. Once our kiss ceases, the need for one another is only increased tenfold, not subsided; not even the edge is taken. We only part our lips when we’re both breathless. I kiss the edge of her mouth, and then her hand.

“I’m not done with you Mrs. Grey. But for now, we have business to conduct. I’m actually anxious to show you what we do here,” I say. I put her down on the ground. She looks down at my bulge in front of my pants. “We’ll have to do something about that Mr. Grey. I feel like I’m neglecting my wifely duties,” she says pursing her lips. “Maybe when you’re running your universe, sitting on your desk, and playing with your millions, commanding and taming the business world, I will tame your erection, and suck you off,” she says her hand gently rubs the growing tent before me, and attempts to walk away to get to a seat. I grab her by the wrist and pull her to me. “What are you doing to me, Anastasia?” I say as I fiercely kiss her again. “You’re going to unman me,” I breathe against her lips. And closing my eyes, I put my forehead against hers, and hold her hand finally, and walk her to a seat across from my desk. “Today. You will fulfill your word today, baby,” I whisper, my words are both a threat and a promise. Seating my wife, I walk behind my desk. My eyes are still dark with lascivious intent, my erection still full; I sit. Hitting the button on the intercom, “Send Ros in, Andrea,” I say; my gaze is still locked on my wife. The door opens, and Ros walks in.

“Mr. Grey, thank you for coming in today…” she says, but upon noticing Anastasia, her step falters in surprise. “Mrs. Grey, what a nice surprise!” she chimes, positively delighted to see her. “Will you be here all afternoon?” “Yes, my wife is going to accompany me today, Ros,” I say. Ros hears the tone in my voice that Anastasia is going to be a part of the business today. “Well, I’m delighted! Welcome, Mrs. Grey! How have you been feeling since you got out of the hospital? I’m so sorry by the way. We were all worried,” she says genuinely. “I’m well, thank you, Ros!” Anastasia replies. Ros takes a seat across from me. “Is this about the meeting with the engineering team?” “No, actually not,” she says looking at Anastasia. “You can talk to me with my wife present,” I say arching my eyebrows. “Alright… We need to talk about sending the second part of payroll and expense account to Taiwan.” “I thought you wanted to send the 50% first, and wait another six months for the other part of 50%. What changed?” I ask leaning back in my chair, my elbows perched on the arms of my chair; my hands are steepled before me. “We have deposited $110 million already. But the shipyard needs to meet our standards. I spoke to the shipyard manager. We need to do some fitting to customize it for our needs. Our inspector has already been there. But we need to send our shipyard manager here along with Warren to Taiwan to see exactly what is needed, and how the money should be spent, how much the fittings will cost, and whether some of tools can be shipped from our current shipyard to save cost. The repairs have already begun. I think it’s best to have the money managed in Taiwan to save from the taxes here, because it’s already earmarked for that shipyard’s payroll and as you know we’ve discussed allocating another $100 million for the necessary repairs. I need to have boots on the ground to watch the cost so everything is being spent as it is intended.” I tap my fingers on my desk contemplating. Anastasia’s eyes widen as we speak in terms of large sums of cash. She says nothing, but looks at me with a little awe, a little

admiration, a little intimidation, and a whole a lot of lust. I keep my eyes on Ros to keep my erection under control. “What are you suggesting? You need to go to Taiwan?” “I was going to suggest that you go and inspect the shipyard for yourself, and talk to the bank, the managers, and inspect the employees. You are more intimidating than I but then again maybe we should go together because, one of us is a tropical storm, but both of us combined create a hurricane.” What she is saying is true of course, but, I don’t know if it’s a good idea to go to Taiwan when my wife is pregnant and sick. I have to wait till she’s better so I can take her with me. Or, just send Ros and Warren. “I’ll talk to the shipyard manager tonight then. I’ll think about Taiwan,” I say looking at Anastasia. My wife always denies me when I when I want to take her someplace, making her work an excuse. With Linc on the loose, and when she’s having violent episodes of morning sickness, getting her out of my sight is the last thing I want to do. “When would you have to go if you do decide to go?” Anastasia asks. “I have not decided to go yet, Anastasia,” I respond. “Ros?” Anastasia asks ignoring me. “In two weeks, but that’s not set in stone yet. If Warren and I go this time, we can buy some time for Mr. Grey to go in about month and a half time. This will allocate enough time to make the changes we want in the shipyard to get it fully operational with our company standards,” she responds oblivious to my rising controlled anger for being bypassed. “Do you want to go with Ros in two weeks?” Anastasia asks. “Anastasia, I won’t be able to make this decision now since you have been in the hospital only recently. Your well-being is more important. Knowing I have capable employees who are amply paid,” I enunciate, “they ought to be able to resolve any problems that may arise since the business deal has already been struck. If I do go, it will be later rather than sooner,” I say without blinking. “I’m going to send you the financial forecast. I have reached the conclusion earlier than I had anticipated which is why I’m recommending transferring the funds sooner. But since we already have half of the funds there earmarked for the payroll, I would really recommend at least transferring the repair and restructuring funds.”

“I need to look at the reports, but I agree on the repair funds. I want to speak with the dock manager this evening. They’re fifteen hours ahead of us. Make sure he’s at hand to receive my call. On the second thought…” I say pausing, “don’t. I’ll make it an impromptu call. Don’t give him a chance to be prepared." “Mr. Grey, your engineering team is assembled and waiting for you in the Meeting Room 4, please,” Andrea says through the intercom. “We’ll be there in a few minutes. Make sure you bring club soda and Saltine crackers for Mrs. Grey’s seat. She hasn’t eaten much today.” “Crackers, sir?” Andrea asks confused. “Yes, Andrea, crackers! Saltines, specifically. That’s what she likes.” Ros’s eyes narrow on me, scrutinizing. It hasn’t dawned on her yet, but her gears are turning in her head. Without giving Ros a chance to discover my wife’s pregnancy, I rise from my seat to my considerable height. My erection is tame enough to not to create a tent. Buttoning my custom made navy blue Brioni jacket, I walk around my desk with the agility I’m accustomed, and extend my hand to my wife. She takes it, allowing me to pull her to her feet. I feel a thrill course through me with the prospect of showing off my gorgeous wife by my side earmarking my possession of her. With Anastasia’s hand safely in mine, I walk through the lobby. I can feel the employees stand up to get a glance of my wife with me. Anastasia is a sight to behold. Taylor and Sawyer both follow us and when we get to the meeting room, Taylor opens the door up. My team of engineers stands up as our group enters. Taylor and Sawyer take the opposite corners to cover the entire room. Ros takes the seat to my left side. All eyes on the table turns to me and to my wife then surreptitiously glance at our linked hands. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce you my wife, Mrs. Anastasia Grey? She’ll be joining us during our meeting today,” I announce. Then I introduce each team member’s name to Anastasia who stands up, greets Anastasia and she greets and smiles back at them. I take the head of the table after I seat my wife to my right. Her club soda and crackers are on a plate. “I’m told that you finally have a breakthrough in the winding and solar technology on the cellular phones we’re trying to create. What do you have so far and how is it different than what you have shown me?” I ask.

Andrew, my chief engineer clears his throat. “Mr. Grey, we have three different prototypes. One utilizes only solar energy, the other utilizes winding technology, and third one utilizes both. The main issue was being able to utilize the solar energy and the surface in which to do it. We have examined leaves of a tree, and how it absorbs the solar energy and utilizes small spaces to do the photosynthesis. We tried to apply what we have discovered into the PV batteries which of course are not as efficient as we would have like them to be…” Anastasia cuts him, interested in the topic. “What are PV batteries and how are they utilized in this cell phone?” she asks taking one of the prototypes into her hand. I look at my wife proudly for taking interest in something that’s near and dear to my heart: clean energy. “Good question ma’am. PV cell is basically the single-crystal silicon cell. Silicon has some special chemical properties in its crystalline form. You see ma’am, a silicon atom has 14 electrons arranged in three different shells,” he says and Anastasia blinks lost in the first mention of electrons. “Let me explain it in another way ma’am. Leaves for example are reaction centers that carry out the chemistry necessary to make the energy useful. We realized that on a bright sunny day, there are more than 100 million billion red and blue colored photons strike a leaf each second. Under these conditions the plants need to be able to both utilize the energy that’s required for growth as well as get rid of the excess energy that can be harmful. In short ma’am, plants know how to quickly harvest energy and in a regulated manner which we discovered are two key features in natural light-harvesting systems. So it was down to utilizing correct energy circuits that could control, regulate, direct and amplify raw solar energy by man-made pigments and thus preventing the loss of energy before it was utilized. So, the surface which we utilized to harvest the solar energy was crucial. We’ve come up with a few different methods. One was directly on the phone but we realized it was impractical. You could heat up the circuits inside which could harm the phone and it was counterproductive. In the end, we’ve created a charging utility that is removable such as a case, and even a smaller solar charger which the user could plug and the small solar panel could even be attached to a backpack, or a surface receiving direct or indirect sunlight. The charge would hold 8 hours. Our goal is to store this longer periods of time so the user could go on without charging for 24

hours. We have accomplished that. Because solar energy is abundant, even on cloudy days, it will be possible to charge a cellphone battery.” He says grinning. Anastasia looks excited. “How about this one? How does this winding one works?” she asks holding a cell phone with a crank attached in the bottom. Her hand absently reaches to the plate and she takes a Saltine cracker, and nibbles on it. My engineering team is more than eager to explain how their creation works to my wife as if they are just given their most favorite pupil. Anastasia’s enthusiasm turns me on in a different way. I feel a certain normalcy and something beyond. There’s awe in my wife towards my personal cause, and the same awe is reflected in my team of engineers towards my wife. She’s approachable, curious, interested, and inquisitive. Halfway through the meeting, I’m unable to take my gaze away from my wife who somehow takes the lead with her curiosity asking everyone questions. My engineers are eager and competitive to accommodate her, and answer her questions. I’m not sure how to take this yet. Is it their awe of her, or my wife’s natural allure every man is captivated in? When Ros examines the schematics and starts asking questions about cost of production, distribution, and the product’s marketability, Anastasia leans towards me and whispers, “Christian, where’s the restroom?” “Are you ill?” I ask quickly giving a once over her face. She slightly shakes her head, her eyes almost forbidding me to ask. Why? “I’ll take you to my office. I have a private bathroom.” “Sawyer or Taylor can show me the way. Finish your meeting,” she whispers then stands up abruptly. Damn! She doesn't listen. I follow suit, and get up immediately. All heads turn to our direction, looking at us quizzically. “Ros, why don’t you finish the meeting?” I say. Anastasia is already making her way to the door quickly muttering a thank you behind her. Sawyer runs after her, and I quickly dash after the duo with confused faces looking behind us.

Taylor runs ahead immediately, opening the door and leads Anastasia towards my private bathroom. “Wait outside,” I order to both firmly, and follow Anastasia into the bathroom locking the door. “Ana! Are you sick? What’s wrong?” “Christian could you wait outside? I need some privacy. I need to go to bathroom.” “You’re not throwing up?” “No, I’m not. I’ve just consumed two bottles of club soda. I have to go,” she says pressing her legs together. I give a sigh of relief. “Go then. I’ll just turn my back just in case you don’t feel well.” She rolls her eyes. “Christian, please! I don’t stand there when you’re going!” “Baby, you can stand there all you want. I’ve no qualms about you watching me doing anything.” “Agghh! You’re incorrigible!” All of a sudden, I’m back to the day she woke up in the hospital, and I have no desire of leaving her for a second. “Christian, I promise, I’m not sick. Just wait outside the door! I can’t go when you’re watching!” “I told you I’ll turn my back Ana. Just do it!” “Fine! Just this once. Turn your back!” she orders rolling her eyes again. “Don’t tempt me, wife,” I say grinning. “You’re no gentleman, Mr. Grey!” “I never claimed to be a gentleman! I’m just a concerned husband who is madly in love with his wife.” Anastasia is done with her business. I turn my back to see her after I hear the sound of running water.

“All done, Mr. Grey, and without getting sick. But I don’t wanna jinx it!” “Come,” I say taking her hand. “Are you hungry? You haven’t had much other than breakfast, some broth and crackers. She makes a grimacing face. “We’ll order in. What’s your pleasure?”’ “You,” she says her lips curving up with the semblance of a smile. “Why Mrs. Grey, I aim to fulfill all your appetites, but I believe our baby is hungry right now,” I say and as if on cue her stomach growls. “I don’t want to eat right now Christian. I had a lot of crackers,” she says. “Baby, don’t flirt with the devil. You’ll only get burnt,” I whisper. “You know how I feel about you not eating. Besides, I will hand feed you if I have to, Anastasia. Crackers are to calm your stomach. Food is for you and our baby,” I say placing my hand over her belly. She takes in a shuddered breath. “In that case, Mr. Grey, perhaps we can reach an agreement,” she says licking her lips. “Anastasia, I don’t negotiate when it comes to your well-being baby, especially when you’re being disobedient,” I say raising my eyebrows. “But Mr. Grey. You know I’ve been a bad girl by not obeying your orders to eat,” she whispers in a husky voice, then first licks and then bites her lower lip. “I think I ought to be punished. Maybe on my knees under your desk while you rule the universe.” My breath hisses through my teeth. “Anastasia, you’re going to unman me, baby. But as it happens, it is one of my fantasies, and there are a dozen surfaces in this office alone I’d like to fuck you. Let me feed you first, wife…” I murmur tilting her chin up to face me. Tell me what would you like to eat?” “Maybe clam chowder in sourdough bread bowl and spring mix salad.” “Okay. I’ll have it brought in.” I take my Blackberry out and press Taylor’s number on speed dial. “Yes, sir,” he answers.

“Taylor, I need you to pick up two orders of clam chowder soup in sourdough bread bowls and spring mix salad…” Then turning to Anastasia I ask, “Baby, would you like desert?” “Yes,” she mouths, but it’s not the kind Taylor could order from the restaurant menu. My gaze darkens in her response. “That will be all Taylor.” “Mr. Grey, Ros is at the door. She wants to drop the samples with you so you can take a better look at them. Is this a good time for her to come in?” I roll my eyes. “Send her in.” “I’ll be back in thirty minutes sir. Sawyer is here if you need anything.” “Thanks Taylor.”

*****❦ ♡ ❧***** I watch Anastasia all through our meal to see if she’s feeling sick, weak or tired. She seems to have recovered her appetite, and finishes all her soup and the bread bowl. She also consumes all her salad, then eyes, my half eaten bread bowl that I'm still working on eating. “Are you going to finish that?” she asks with her last bite in her mouth. Generally I’m always the first one to finish a meal, and never leave a crumb on my plate. But, Anastasia’s appetite has recovered and she seems to be hungry still. I grin, and break a piece of my sourdough bowl and feed it to her. She chews it and closes her eyes savoring the taste. “More?” I ask smiling. “Yes, please.” I take another piece, dipping it in the soup on the bottom of the bowl, dipping my finger along with the piece of bread. When I pop the soupy bread into Anastasia’s mouth, her lips capture my finger with soup, and sucks on it. My cock twitches in response. My gaze darkens.

“Behave, Mrs. Grey,” I whisper in a husky voice. “Maybe I don’t want to behave,” she challenges back. “Besides, food is gone, and you still haven’t offered me my desert.” “Not yet. I’m the host, Mrs. Grey. I will give you what you want, but right now, I want to show my wife, our company,” I say. I want to make sure that the food she just consumed doesn’t want to come back up. I want my wife good and ready, and craving me. “I want my desert now,” she pouts. “Delayed gratification. Think how much more you’ll want me, not knowing when, what or how you’re getting it, Mrs. Grey,” I whisper by her ear. “Besides, I wanted to show you GEH when you first came to see me, but you ran off. This is my second chance to show it to you. And,” I lower my voice, my pupils dilating, my voice is taking a deep carnal tone, “You were all thumbs trying to set up that damned recorder on my Bauhaus coffee table,” I murmur pointing. “Even though your fumbling and uncoordination would have irritated the fuck out of me if it was anyone else, but there was something about you made me think it was endearing, that pulled me to you. I wanted to prolong your stay as much as possible. I was thinking all kinds of ways I could utilize to tame your skittishness.” I say rubbing her cheek. “Then you did something. You peeked up at me, and bit down your bottom lip… like you’re doing now,” I say tugging her chin off. “It hit me like a train wreck. I noticed your lovely, kissable, fuckable mouth.” “Christian!” she gasps. “Once you were done setting the damned thing up, you looked up at me with your big blue eyes. You asked me some inconsequential question. Then you looked at me disapprovingly, not pleased with my answer.” “All I remember was that your gaze, your simple movements, your lip, the way you sat in your chair and the intensity of your gaze was making me squirm. I was mesmerized with you, Christian. Couldn’t take my eyes off you, but then again, the intensity of your gaze, the confidence, arrogance, and the mastery in which you carried yourself intimidated me. I couldn’t look at you.”

“I remember. You lowered your gaze, and said ‘yes sir,’ shocking me in one hand, then called me a control freak, breaking through all my barriers, seeing me as I was. You saw though me, baby!” I say in awe. Her genuine smile is big. “You told me you exercise control in all things, and I felt the effect of your words clenching me right here,” she says, placing her hand right over her abdomen. The Way You Make me Feel - Michael Jackson ft. Britney Spears

“Then you gave me the biggest shock of my life by asking if I was gay, right there,” I say walking her toward the seating area. “I had the urge to drag you out of your seat, bend you across my knee that very moment, and spank the living shit out of you. I wanted to tie your hands behind your back, bend your glowing pink ass gloriously on my desk with your legs spread wide apart, your sex dripping wet and hungry, presented for my cock, your beautiful hair wrapped around my wrist pulled back, I wanted to fuck the hell out of you just to show you how not gay I was!” I hiss though my teeth, my blood boiling as if the memory was just yesterday. “I’m up for it now!” Anastasia breathes her chest heaving up and down, completely turned on. “All in good time, baby. I want to show you our company right now.” “Christian!” she chides me. “You can’t just seduce me like that, and leave me hot and bothered.” I give her a lascivious smile. “Baby, I waited for a couple of weeks just to get my due for being unjustly called, ‘gay’ and to prove you my heterosexual tendencies.” She pouts. “You’re not intending to make me suffer for weeks are you, Mr. Grey?” she asks frowning. “Because, I might positively catch fire. With my cravings, I believe you’re obligated taking care of my hunger, Mr. Grey. Or are you deliberately forgetting doctor’s orders?” “I forget nothing about you Anastasia. I will take care of you, I promise, but give me this. I’ve waited a long time to show you my second best accomplishment.” She frowns. “Second best?”

“You, my dear wife, you’re my best accomplishment. Marrying you was the best endeavor I ever accomplished. Come,” I say pulling her hand. Show my wife what we have together. Andrea and the new intern jumps to their feet. Olivia’s internship nearly ended when she disclosed Anastasia and my engagement to a paparazzi which ended up Anastasia being harassed. Her internship is over, but I can’t have incompetence in my office staff. She’s not retained here. I don’t tolerate mistakes; especially those that hurt my wife are unforgivable. “Who was that other girl with Andrea? She didn’t look like the other assistant you had.” “That’s because Olivia’s internship ended. That was another intern, Janelyn.” “Another one of your blondes,” she mutters. “They’re not my blondes. The only woman that belongs to me here, or anyplace else is you, Anastasia. They’re my employees,” I say, realizing my woman is going to be very bothered by the time we finish the company tour. The hotter and more bothered we both are, the more intense the pleasure for both of us. But waiting is the torture we must endure for the price of that pleasure.”

*****❦ ♡ ❧***** “I didn’t realize how many people worked for you in this building alone,” Anastasia comments awed. “I employ over 40,000 people in the U.S. and we are acquiring another workforce that’s going to increase our workforce by nearly a third.” “So many people’s livelihood depends on you Christian. I’m in awe of you,” she says looking up at me reverentially. “And when you were getting your Taiwan deal going, you managed to stay in Portland with me when I was waiting word on Ray, then waited for me at the hospital, and took care of me at home. You’re still taking care of me. Right now…” she says realizing. I’m always watching out for her. For her needs; her well-being. Everything I do is for her and for our baby. “It’s because, you’re my reason for being, for existing. You’re the center of my universe, Anastasia. You have no idea what I wouldn’t do for you…” I whisper leaning down.

When I look up and get my bearing to see where we are, I realize we’re across from the lobby and by the elevators. “Come,” I tug her hand after me. Andrea jumps up with the new intern. “Mr. Grey. You have a phone call scheduled to Taiwan in 30 minutes.” I check the time. It’s passed 6:30 p.m. “Current time in Taiwan is 9:31 a.m. their local time, sir.” “Connect the call in at 7:00 p.m., then you can both go home Andrea.” “We can stay later if you need our assistance, sir,” she says bristling with efficiency. Anastasia’s hand tightens in mine, and she draws even closer. Being bothered is getting to her. Her eyes are impassive, gazing at Andrea; however, Anastasia is anything but. “On the second thought, connect me with the Shipyard manager in ten minutes, and then you two can go. I can take it from here.” “Yes, Mr. Grey,” Andrea responds. Both Sawyer and Taylor are waiting at the entrance to the lobby. Taylor looks up, when our gazes lock; he knows he’s not to let anyone in. “Come on Mrs. Grey,” I say and pull Anastasia into my office. I close and lock the door behind me. “So, Mrs. Grey…” I say turning around but she cuts me off. “Mr. Grey, I am at unease with the eager help you are getting here. I mean your assistants are just chomping at the bit to please you. I don’t know if I should be happy, or jealous of the service they’re providing you,” she says mock chiding me. She turns to take a step forward, but I catch her waist. “Your Stepford blondes are…” “They’re not my blondes. They’re my employees. They’re required to be efficient, prompt, effective in their jobs and be at hand until I dismiss them. They’re paid very well for the job they perform. You, on the other hand are my wife. You’ve nothing to worry…”

“Of course I do, Mr. Grey,” she says biting her lip. My gaze darkens. This is her game. Her hand caresses over my silver silk tie which I put on deliberately today, then grasping the tie at the tail, she pulls it, coaxing me to walk forward towards my desk as she pulls me along. She grabs one of the plush pillows on the way to my desk.

She then pushes me into my seat, tosses the pillow under my desk leisurely and then climbs onto my desk sitting right in front of me, swinging her legs. Then she places her feet in Louboutin stilettos on my chair and right between my legs, effectively keeping them apart. Her glorious legs are displayed; her flowy skirt slides up to her thighs and her black lace panties are now showcasing how hungry her sex is for me.

“Anaaa,” I hiss her name in a carnal breath. “Certain promises were made earlier this afternoon, Mr. Grey, and I think I can prove you that I too, am very efficient.” My gaze narrows on her, I study and asses my wife who is insatiably ravenous for me. She wants to play. The thought makes me more desirous for her.

“Although, I had to run out of the meeting unexpectedly, I had a very good excuse Mr. Grey,” she says sighing. “We don’t give second chances, and excuses are not tolerated here, Mrs. Grey,” I respond my voice is effectively forbidding. “I know Mr. Grey, but I would really like you to reconsider. You see, even though I have been a rowdy assistant on trial today by leaving the meeting before it came to conclusion, I’d like to remind you that I am exceptionally good at my job, and you really should give me an opportunity to show you how excellent I can be in performing the services you require of me.” My pupils dilate, and my gaze darkens in our role play. “Mrs. Grey, I believe the position is already filled by a very capable, devastatingly beautiful woman who I’m madly in love with. And, I don’t take advice from employees in what course of action I should take with them. This has never been my practice. What say you to that?” She pouts her lips, and bites her lower lip. After undoing three buttons of her shirt, I can now see her sexy engorged breasts nestled in her black lacy bra cups. Her hands leisurely slide over her shirt, finally coming to rest and curl at the edge of my desk. She leans back slightly. That simple action thrusts her breasts forward. Her heavy lids slowly lift up, and there’s nothing but libidinous desire in them.

“Can’t you find it in your heart to give me another chance, Sir? I looove my job, and simply in love with my boss’s boss’s boss. I am the woman made for that position. You just don’t recognize me. Have I changed that much, Sir?” An involuntarily breath whistles through my teeth. “I do love ambition, enthusiasm, drive, inventiveness, and vigorous initiative, Mrs. Grey. Maybe I should this one time exploit the skills you seem to possess.” “Thank you, Sir. I’d like to cement my position as the number one woman in all venues after my demonstration,” she says as the toe of her shoe caresses over my impatient erection. The disembodied voice from the intercom jumps us both.

“Mr. Grey, I have Mr. Lung Shyn, the Taipei Shipyard Manager on line one. I apologize for the delay sir. He was overseeing the dismantling one of the 20 ton cranes.” I frown. This is unexpected. But my gaze is still on my wife. She slides down off my desk. “Thank you, Andrea. You and Janelyn can go home now,” I say without a hitch on my distant, I’m-your-boss-and-your-commander tone. “Good evening Mr. Grey.” “Anastasia,” I hiss with my gaze full of carnal intent, my eyes dark, heated. I rise from my seat, and grasping her hair, I fix her head in the angle I desire, and kiss her long, and hard. Her hand reaches over my pants, wrapping her fingers around my rigid cock.

“My ravenous woman, bent on unmanning me,” I breathe into her lips. “I want this,” she whispers. “I want to be the only one pleasing you at all times,” she says with a desperate plea. Did she get jealous of my assistant and the intern? The only time her demeanor changed was when Andrea and Janelyn were asking if they should stay longer. Did that bother her? That another woman, an employee is asking to fulfill a task, a duty? It’s absurd. They work for me. I require them to work late and long hours so I can be with Anastasia. “Ana, you are the only woman pleasing me. They’re just employees. You are my everything. My world, my universe, the love of my existence. Believe it or not, baby, I want you to do this. I want you to show me how much you want me…” I hiss, cupping her face. “I take anything from your hand, and your lips. And I’ll give you anything you desire of me,” I growl. Muse - Undisclosed Desires

I sink back into my chair and pick up the phone. “Grey, here,” I greet as my molten gaze follow Anastasia’s slow descent to the floor.

“Mr. Grey, this is Lung Shyn. I’m sorry you had to call me at a late hour for you. Had I known, I’d have waited here late last night for you to call me at an appropriate time for you. How can I be of service today, sir?” Anastasia’s hands unbuckle my belt, and my zipper is lowered. Her hand dips into my boxers, and her fingers immediately curls around my pulsing erection. I want to hiss out a breath forcefully, but I control myself to let it out slowly. She inserts both hands into my boxers skimming around my waistband trying to pull my pants down to have full access to my erection. I grin, and lifting my butt off the seat, I give her the access she needs.

“I hear that you’re dismantling one of the 20 ton cranes, Shyn. I wasn’t made aware of that. Why is it being taken out of commission?” I ask as Anastasia’s hands squeeze my buttocks. I grin in response. “Yes, sir. That’s because the inspector Miss Bailey had sent said that one of the 20 ton cranes were not compliant with OSHA safety rules. Although we do not practice OSHA here, GEH does. Therefore we are complying with everything you require us to do,” he explains.

Meanwhile Anastasia holds me with both hands. One hand at the root of my cock, the other cupping my sack. Her warm, wet lips descend on the plush head, covering it. Then she sucks ever so gently. Her tongue moves over the tip, rubbing, and licking. The sensation flares and sets my blood on fire, coursing through my veins, curling my toes. My right hand grips the phone with such a force that I feel the blood drain from it. Her tongue pulls back and she pulls me in deeper. As she moves along, I can feel her inhaling my scent as if she can’t get enough of me with just taste. I feel her pull me into the hollow of her cheek. “What other changes are being done?” I ask. “We have a list of them, and we’re working on complying with every one of them.” “What are they?” “Hold on one second sir, let me pull up my file and I shall read all of them to you,” he says. “Take your time,” I say my head rolling back and I thrust my hip into my wife’s capable mouth. Putting the phone on mute, I say “keep sucking, licking!” I say and she does as she is told moving her tongue underneath my cock, then she flickers her tongue on the rim. Her hands and mouth work in sync driving me crazy. Rhythmic movements… I push my feet on the floor, pleasure building up. “Deep, baby, and hard!” Kings of Leon - Closer

She fists me at the root, and her fingers wrap my cock like a glove sliding up towards the tip. Hard! Then her lips run down to the root, pushing the tip all the way to the back

of her throat. My hand grasps her hair, holding her in place as if she moved her mouth I could not bear it. The pleasure washes over me, and the lust intensifies exponentially. I lift my butt off my seat using my elbows. One of her hands wrap around me, and squeezes my ass. My pre-cum bursts into my wife’s mouth, and she licks me as she bares her teeth trailing back up to tip. “Oh, yes. The first repairs started in the quays sir. We’ve nearly a hundred employees dedicated to get the shipyard functional to your specifications.” I turn the speaker on. “I want you to read me every item on the list, one by one. I will stop you if I have a question. Then e-mail me the contents.” “As you wish sir,” he says and starts reading as I put the microphone back on mute again. A soft moan escapes Anastasia’s lips, when she is sucking the hell out of the crown, her tongue pleasure torturing me. Then she plunges my erection back into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks. She increases her speed, pulling me, and tugging, sucking, coaxing my pleasure. She is getting greedier, as if she can’t get enough of me. My wife on her knees, her mouth sucking and stroking my cock, her tongue caressing every pulsating vein make me grow thicker, swell longer. “Ffffuuukk! Ana! You suck me dry, baby! I’m going to come so hard!” I say thrusting my hips. Ana is the only woman who can take off all the layers of me, making me completely naked before her, and at this moment the only thing that matters is the chase to orgasm. My wife’s hand cups my sack, caressing while her other hand, her tongue and soft lips uncontrollably work towards pushing me into my orgasm. As my climax approaches, my balls feel heavy at first, then tighten in her hand and draw up. The maddening jolt of pleasure courses through my entire body, and focuses on this one part of my anatomy which is currently inside my wife's mouth. “Shit! Ana! You’re driving me to insanity! Fuck me! Suck me dry baby!” My voice is unrecognizable, raspy, deep and guttural. My hands are fisted in her hair, my eyes are rolling back into my head, and my orgasm releases in thick hot spurts into Anastasia’s mouth. I thrust my hips again into her mouth, my semen coating her mouth. My heavy erection is a different entity, pulsing and throbbing until she squeezes every ounce of pleasure out of my body. She keeps milking me relentlessly, making my whole body shake. My pleasure is released in the form of a groan as I place the phone's receiver on my desk while Shyn continue reading the list.

Anastasia only stops when I stop thrusting. This is a first. My wife becomes the first woman to suck me off at GEH. And right now my half tamed erection only wants to fuck her like I wanted to when I first met her here. A satisfied grin appears on Anastasia’s face. Her wide blue eyes look at me from under her heavy eyelashes. As she licks her lips, she looks up at me, and asks, “Well, Sir, do I get to keep my job?” “Fuck baby, not only do you keep the job but you also get a promotion!” “The list also contains relocating the 150 tonnage crane to a different position at the docks to better utilize it for fitting. This concludes the list,” I vaguely hear Shyn in the background. I pick up the phone as I pull my wife into my arms, with my ass still bare, and my dick hanging out. I turn the speaker back on. “What is the estimated time for the completion of the repairs and compliance requirements?” “The worst case of the scenario, we can be fully operational in one month’s time, sir. We can still operate, but it is safer if the entire work is completed. It’s going on around the clock.”

“Alright, I expect you to e-mail me the list. Indicate what has been completed, what still needs to be done, how many people working on each task, estimated time of completion for each individual project, and how many people you intend to allocate for each task. Cc it to Ms. Bailey and Mr. Warren. I also need the cost sheets. Indicate the cost of every project down to the last screw,” I say looking at my wife carnally. “I have all the costs broken down sir. And the projected time of completion. They’re in 3 different files. I shall send them to you in the next hour. Is there anything else I can help you with?” “That would be all, Shyn.” I say and hang up. “So, Mrs. Grey,” I drawl. “You and I had another first, baby. I’ve never been sucked off in my own office.” She smiles at my declaration. “I’m pleased to hear that Mr. Grey. Did you fuck anyone in this office?” “What crude language, Mrs. Grey. Aren’t you the epitome of gentility this evening?” I say faux mocking her. She narrows her eyes on me. “Are you being evasive, Mr. Grey?” Her voice is wounded even. “As it happens Mrs. Grey, you will be the first woman I fuck in this office and I’d like to accomplish that goal within the next few minutes. I told you: You’re the only woman for the job. I don’t want anyone else. Just you, baby. It’s only you!” I whisper fervently. “Really Mr. Grey?” she murmurs coyly. “Maybe I should play hard to get. I want a little rough play tonight.” “Ana, I don’t know if you should. I don’t want you to get sick.” “Come and get me Christian!” she says running off my lap. “Fuck!” I hiss as I hastily move after her. Talking about getting caught your pants down. I promptly stuff my shirt into my pants, and pull them up, trying to zip. Without buckling my belt I run after Anastasia. She rushes to the seating area, and divesting her high heels on the way, she gains momentum. At this moment, nothing else matter. Just my wife.

Nothing Else Matters - Metallica

“Anaaa!” I hiss. “If you fall down, you might get hurt and you might hurt the baby as well.” “The floor is carpet here, Christian. There’s enough friction. I won’t fall! Are you afraid you can’t catch a pregnant woman?” she taunts me. “Damn it, Ana! Stop running!” I say as I slowly creep to the edge of the sofa to get to her. She quickly moves to the other side of the sofa. To catch her before she hurts herself, I support myself with one hand and leap over the sofa to the other side, nearly catching Ana, but she dashes to the other side of my expensive, big coffee table, squealing in delight. “Shit!” Our game is exciting, but I am worried that she’ll fall, and get hurt. I run to the other side of the coffee table and she runs to the wall to wall glass window. She goes behind a custom made chair. I stalk her slowly, like a panther. Her delighted squeals are like the siren’s call for me. I extend my hand and the silk of her blouse is pulled and a single button breaks loose and flies off the shirt. With another squeal, she runs to the other side again. This time I leap and finally capture her, and scoop her off the floor, I capture her tightly in my arms. “So, Mrs. Grey,” I growl. “You wanted to be bad. You know how I feel about that baby. I don’t want you to run from me, because even in a game, it scares the shit out of me, and also, you’ve put yourself and our baby in danger running around carelessly. What shall I do to punish your transgressions?” I ask in a gruff voice. “Something that will make butt sore, and your cock hard to have me right here, right now,” she breathes quickly. “Ana… Why are you doing this?” “I am so turned on with your pleasure; I just want you to fuck me senseless, Christian. My desire for you is turned on and I can’t turn it off. I’m insanely jealous of the women who come in contact with you, and like you, I want to declare that you’re my man!” “Baby, I AM yours. What is worrying you?” I say addressing her possessive side. “I know that you’re not into blondes, and Andrea is a good assistant. But, I want to have this here, declare you in the seat of your kingdom as mine. Leave my scent here so

that every woman who walks through these doors knows that Christian Grey is my man!” “And you thought you would accomplish this end, by putting yourself in danger?” I ask incredulous. “I love playing with you Christian. You have been too gentle with me lately. Attentive, and caring which I completely appreciate, but I have missed the kinky side of our relationship.” I search her face. I want to make sure that she’s not doing this because of some misguided idea that I need the hard core fucking. And to achieve that end, she’s going to jeopardize her own well-being. There’s plenty of time to play harder when she’s better. “Anastasia,” I say my gaze darkening. “Is this about my female employees? Are you trying to push me to play hard with you because of my assistant and the intern? If so, you can forget about it. I require my assistant to work at all hours. Be professional, work hard, complete tasks at a moment’s notice, and be efficient. Because I’m a very busy man, a very in demand business man, I need them to be this hard-working as if they don’t have a life of their own. I want them to do their job properly so that I can have the time to spend with my lovely wife. In return, they’re paid amply. They get the best benefits, and I pay them handsome bonuses for the exceptional services they provide. Our relationship here at GEH is always a professional one. Do you understand that? You have ruined me for any other woman. I have no desire for anyone else, no time, no care nor feeling for any other woman! Just you Anastasia Grey,” I say baring my soul to my wife. “Oh Christian! I know that! I trust you! I just want you to know that I’m not made of glass.” “Ana, I feel apprehensive about being hard with you right now, because you’ve been in the hospital after being nearly killed, and then you had been violently ill. Are you forgetting that your admirer Jose took on me at the hospital thinking I’m somehow being harsh on you? Or that you got so sick that I had to summon Dr. Greene? Can you understand that I’m a worried husband who is madly, insanely, jealously in love with his wife? If at any time, for any reason, our sex life makes you sick, even due to morning sickness, or somehow hurts you even during our play, or turns you off in anyway, it’d kill me. Everything about you, everything that we do together is more important than anything else in the world. Because, you are my world. You are the

single point in universe where I feel safe, at home and centered. You are my reason for being. And because of that, it’s very difficult for me to be rough on you although I desire and miss that side of our relationship.” “I miss it too, Christian! I love everything we do together. I love it when you are soft and gentle, I love it when you are kinky, I love it when you are rough, carnality personified. It’s just you, husband. I know the relationship you hold with your employees is a very professional one. But, I’m a woman. I do feel and notice when other women desire you even if they are only very professional towards you. I too want to declare my territory and tell them that ‘this is my man!’ On top of that, this pregnancy is making me hungry for everything; I’m hungry for food all the time, and I crave you more. My sex drive seems to be in overdrive; I just can’t get enough of you. I want this, I need this, Christian. What more do I have to tell you to get it?” she asks looking up at me with her impossibly blue eyes. “I suppose,” she says fluttering her eyelashes, “If you are unwilling to take care of this side of me, I may have to relieve myself, husband.“ “The hell you are! No one relieves your sexual needs but me! I own this!” I say cupping her sex, and slowly stroking it over the lace of her panties. It’s already drenched, hungry for me. I want to give her what she wants without hurting her much or somehow triggering her morning sickness.

“Mrs. Grey, you are being a bad bad…bad girl. I am going to spank you for wanting to pleasure yourself without me. I am the master of this body. I’m the husband, and I’m your lover. This is my job and both of our pleasure. And you wish to take it away from me.” I say darkening my eyes. “How shall I punish you?”

Her eyes light up. “However Sir desires,” she says lowering her gaze. Fuck me! “Well then, I’m going spank you on my lap, and fuck you very hard on my desk. I don’t have a certain number in mine. You will be my guide and you will count with me. I’m your lover Anastasia. Lovers don’t have safe words. Just tell me to stop when you had your fill of the spanking and I will. Got it?” “Yes!” she says breathy. “What will you say when you had enough Anastasia?” “I’ll say stop, sir!” she says making me take a sharp intake of breath. “Good girl!” I pull my wife onto my lap, and pull her skirt back. Lowering her lacy panties, her beautiful alabaster ass is presented to me. I turn her head to the side and restrain her legs beneath my right leg. Then push her back down with my left arm. I caress her buttocks with my hand and without a preamble I stroke her sex, and dip my finger between the folds of her sex. Insert one finger into her sex and find it soaking wet for me. I groan deep. I massage her sex by inserting another finger into her and with shallow plunges; I stimulate her sex making my wife moan with need. I immediately withdraw my fingers lifting my hand up I slap my wife’s buttocks.

“Ow! One!” she yelps in surprise making me smile. My hand is singing, and I love the feeling. I rub her buttocks and lift it up and land it on the other cheek. “Two!” she counts. Massaging her buttocks one more time, I lift my hand once again, and land it back on her right over her sex. “Three!” her voice is a moan. I develop a pattern in circular motion, spreading the pain, coaxing blood to the surface, stimulating her deep buried sexual nerves and in return arousing her. I incorporate pressure and rhythm without friction. Tapping her clitoris in this manner also stimulates her, and spanking her entire vulva provides a pleasant stimulation. I deliver another blow to her left buttock leaving a pink mark behind. “Sixteen!” she shouts. I caress, and lift hit her right buttock. “Seventeen!” Caress her once more and hit her between the butt cheeks and over her sex. “Eighteen! Stop!” she says breathless.

My hand is singing with delicious pain just as her buttocks are. Breath hisses through my teeth. I lift my wife off the floor and quickly take her back to my desk. I push aside the contents over my desk and spread her face down. “Anastasia, I want you to hold tight on the sides. I am going to fuck you hard now baby! Tell me to stop if this gets hard anytime.” “Yes!” she breathes excited.

I hold her down, turn her head sideways, spread her legs apart with my feet, lift her now ass up for my cock. Unzipping my pants, I take out my cock already at full salute mode. And without a preamble, I plunge into her in one swift move balls deep. The

feeling is overwhelming, intoxicating, and complete heaven. The best place on earth for me is inside my wife. She’s my heaven. Anastasia groans with my cock filling her. I close my eyes and savor the feeling, savor my wife. I slowly pull back, and first painfully slow I ease back into her feeling every muscle inside her sex. “Faster Christian!” she groans.

“Let me savor this, baby,” I hiss through my teeth. Then I pull back again and plunge into her hard. Holding her buttocks I pull her back to me as I plunge into her, reaching deeper and farther inside her. I am lost, yet I find myself there as well, and I just want to keep fucking hard, pushing, and carrying us both to the precipice fast, hard and explosively. I pound into her, my balls slapping over her clitoris punishing and pleasuring her at the same time, drawing excited moans from her. I plunge into her again and again, finally feeling the so familiar yet so craved tightening of her sex like a tight fist, encouraging me to go deeper, pulling me in, matching the pulses of my cock, stroke my length invitingly, caress and hug like a ravenous lover. I plunge into her and pull her ass back to me again. I swivel my hips once more, gyrating, finding that perfect angle letting me get in her sex deepest. When I locate that spot, I hold her buttocks, and angulate rubbing that spot with the tip of my cock, stimulating my crown and her secret senses, pulling back just the right amount, providing shallow plunges. A deep moan escapes Anastasia’s lip, her sex tightens harder and faster. I pull back and thrust forward again rougher, deeper. The only sound we have in the room is our moans, the wet sliding of my cock inside my wife’s cream, and the rhythmic slap of my balls punishing and pleasuring her clit. “Christian!” Ana groans as she comes apart beneath me. As the orgasm spread through her body, passing into my cock, the waves of her orgasm sucks my cock, and I empty into her sex in thick, drowning spurts.

“Anaaa!” I moan my orgasm, my entire body going rigid, my eyes losing focus as they roll back into my head, I finally still in her when the last drop of semen is emptied inside my wife, marking her as mine once again. I slowly ease out of her making her wince with the bereftness. A mixture of my semen and her creamy juices follow my cock rushing out running between her legs. My office smell a mixture of me and my wife and our hard, no bars held sex. My wife’s muscles are weary, and sated. All the feeling of jealousy and carnal hunger is fully satiated. I lift my wife off my desk, my dick still hanging, I take her to my private bathroom. I seat my woman onto a chair and clean her legs. Then spreading her legs apart, I start cleaning her sex. “Christian,” she blushes. “I can do that!” “Yet, I want to do it, Ana. Come on, you just seduced your husband to spank you hard and fuck you harder, but you won’t let me clean your luscious sex? I crave for moments like these. They are more intimate than sex. I want to be intimate with you in all ways possible, so much so that there will be nothing that is not intimate between us.” She closes her eyes, blushing. I lift her chin up and make her look at me. “Look at me baby. I want you to see how much I love you, how much I care for you, and how valuable you are to me.” I toss the soiled paper towel into trash, and fall onto my knees before my wife. Spreading her leg, I bury my head into her sex. “Christian, I don’t think I can! Oh!” she groans. “I can make you come one more time,” I murmur against her sex and start applying expert strokes of my tongue into her sex. Her hands grip my hair pulling me. I raise one hand, and as my mouth and my tongue apply just the right amount of pressure coaxing another climax, I free her breasts and start rolling them between my fingers. She arches her chest into my hand. Lifting her legs off the floor, she wraps them around my shoulders, making me grin.

“Oh my…ah! God! Christian!” she rolls her hips and pushes her sex into my inviting mouth. I taste a mixture of my wife and claim in her. When I elicit the last bit of orgasm from my wife, she’s putty, melted in my hands. There are quite a few more surfaces to go in here. But I think we’ve covered the main areas I’ve desired to see her sprawled, and sated. Next time I’ll fuck her against the window, lights out, overlooking the city of Seattle while playing Thomas Tallis, “Spem in Alium”. There’s nothing more heavenly than my wife for me after all. Thomas Tallis - Spem in Alium

*****❦ ♡ ❧***** Seattle Nooz October 31, 2011 Happy Halloween Dear Seattleites! We hate to bear the good news that can be bad to some of you who are still hopeful of getting your hands onto our local not-so-bachelor Christian Grey! As you remember, we broke the news of his engagement several months ago, and here we are bearing the bad news to some of you again, though it’s happy news for the couple! We’ve heard from a not so little bird, a stork at that, that our favorite former bachelor fellow Seattleite,

deliciously handsome and enigmatic Christian Grey and his gorgeous wife Anastasia are expecting a baby! Yes, yes, some of you have even commented on our blog last time that you would even leave your boyfriends or your husband to get a taste of Christian Grey! Who wouldn’t? He is the hottest thing that came out of Seattle, filthy rich, young, and it looks like he has the stamina to make any woman claw sheets all night long! But, then again, it appears that his wife lovely Anastasia Grey has been doing a good job keeping our local boy very happy indeed. It’s too early to tell whether they'll have a boy or a girl as our sources told us that she’s only a little over 3 months pregnant! We’ll keep our ears on the ground and keep you informed in return! Have a spppoooky Halloween!

“Well, well, well! What do you know? Christian Grey is breeding!” He laughs hard. “It couldn’t be easier had I tried harder, planner better to inflict the most perfect, most delicious pain in him and his! Here you are giving me all the ammunition I want. Well, let me show you how to fuck someone off properly, Grey!” he mutters darkly. Lincoln looks into the mirror. His week old beard is now deserving of shaving. He feels giddy, purposeful. He hasn’t felt this way since he came back from the Caribbean several weeks ago. It was beneficial. He managed to get his hands on to some of his money, have it transferred to one of his banks in Canada in a business account he had in secret for years. Did Grey and his fucking lawyers think that they could erase his name and legacy just by taking over Lincoln Timber? He’s been a master of his domain for decades. He taught Elena what he knew. She in return taught Grey what she had learned from him and, collecting her pay in the form of a boy-toy fucking him senseless. He is Roger Lincoln! Roger Lincoln had only been in the moment kind of guy twice in his life. Once when he beat the shit out of Elena and next was with his impulsive decision with Hyde. Neither of which worked well. This time he would take his time. He picked up his burner phone and dialed. “Yeah!” “You are now in the payroll. Follow his fucking ass and his wife’s. Learn their schedule, routines, whereabouts, go to places. Establish yourself at such an ease that when the time comes, I will give you the order of what to do. You will hit the jackpot should you succeed. If you don’t, I will take you out myself.”

“No worries, Sir! I have never failed in a mission. And this is only a civilian. A rich boy at that. I don’t like rich boys,” answered the man in a thick raspy voice. “Your account will receive a payment in Canada soon. This is your first paycheck. I require regular updates, details, schedules and routines.” “Absolutely. I’ll provide you with weekly updates. If something important, out of the ordinary, or outside of their regular routine comes up, I’ll inform you immediately for further instructions.” “Perfect! Next week, then,” he says and hangs up. He feels like dressing up in an expensive suit, and eating out. For the first time in weeks, he feels he’s going to get what he wants. He always does. Sooner or later. He is Roger Lincoln. He may have lost a battle, but he always wins the war. He never loses.

BOOK IV CHAPTER XIV

Gail “Jason, will you give Mr. Grey an invitation to our wedding today?” I ask lifting my head up from his arms. “Baby, he’s our boss! I don’t wanna feel like I’m working on our wedding day!” Taylor groans in response. “Darling, that would have been true last year, but he’s quite changed since Ana entered into his life.” “Well, yeah…” Taylor smiles with a rare smile he only offers for me. “I still don’t know.” “Come on Jason, you of all people should admit to that. Ana is the first normal girl Mr. Grey ever had in his life. First girls who made him crack a genuine smile, first girl who made him happy… you know happy as in really happy and in love. I even prayed for it to work out for both of them. I really didn’t want him to go back to his emotionless, frigid, stunted way of living, if you could call it living. I’m still having a hard time getting over Leila cutting her arm open, attempting suicide. I couldn’t even…” I shake my head. A shudder goes through my body. I always knew Mr. Grey had a good heart in him. Women are drawn to his exceptional beauty and his money. Money, especially

exorbitant amounts of money such as Mr. Grey possesses attracts women to men who are old, fat, bald, nasty or even barely breathing and on life support. When the man who is in possession of the money is as handsome as Mr. Grey, the vultures are always circling. What did Elisabeth Bennett say in the opening lines of Pride and Prejudice? “It is at truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighborhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.” The notion of landing a rich man, preferably handsome is nothing new. Of course no woman ever had loved Mr. Grey as much or cared for him, and been herself like Mrs. Grey. Who can explain love and how it steels someone’s heart and mind? Mr. Grey has always been different to Ana. She is the woman who managed to snap him out of the nightmare that was Mr. Grey’s past demons; a feat his loving parents or his very expensive shrink couldn’t accomplish over the years. I simply adore Ana, not only because she is so normal and without pretensions but her inner beauty is reflected outside. She’s been painfully shy, and completely oblivious to her own beauty. There have been girls who have gone through this apartment who knew how to wield half of what Ana got so skillfully to reach their end goal; to get Mr. Grey on the long term. He’s never been interested in the idea of long term. Not until Ana. The only thing that was long term for him was his company, his lifestyle, and his parents; maybe a few of his employees. Taylor, me, Ros, Andrea and Barney. We work for the man; the indomitable boss we know as Mr. Christian Grey. Ana loves the man-child inside him even if she gets mad at him furiously. She has actually got Mr. Grey in the middle of her palm. She could easily crush and destroy him had she so desired. It nearly happened however agonizingly excruciating when she was kidnapped and beaten. Mr. Grey thought she might lose the baby and die. He wasn’t sure if she was really going to leave him. I’ve never seen anyone so fearful. Those two are meant to be together. Taylor pulls me into his arms, bringing me back to here and now. “I’m sorry baby. I’m still so fucking mad at him for the Leila incident!” “Jason, this is his life!” I chide him. “Leila was responsible with her own actions. If she and Mr. Grey broke up only a short while ago, what she did might make sense. But, it had been two and a half years when she came here and opened a vein before me. Even though she may have had a psychotic breakdown, I think she was simply jealous of Ana taking a permanent place in his life,” I say and my man who has seen his man get killed and blown up and collected their bodies from battle fields actually shudders.

“You still have nightmares baby! She caused distress in you and Leila is his mistake!” he says as he holds me tighter. “Jason, what Leila did was just a shock. We’ve gone through worse incidents. Seeing Mrs. Grey in a near death state I think affected me more than Leila.” “I know,” Jason whispers somberly. “It was one of the worst days of my life,” he shakes his head. “Mine, too,” I whisper back. I don’t want him to be still mad at Mr. Grey for Leila’s actions. He did apologize to Jason and me, shocking us both when they found me completely shaken. But Jason, without acknowledging his boss’ apology wordlessly held me and took me away. Trying to change his mood, I shift back to Leila topic. “Anyway, I digress. Besides,” I say without missing a beat, “I’ve got to think a lot after that. I came to conclusion that describing Leila as a mischievous girl would be too light; she’s deceitful and her ability to manipulate is only second to Mrs. Lincoln. She’s given more agony to Mr. Grey and Ana than she did to me.” “I’m not mad at him for having had fucked up women in his life. People tend to look for twisted counterparts like themselves. But Williams girl was manipulative and she was completely obsessed with him. Mr. Grey was unable to see the nose in front of his face then. He should have taken care of that problem. He clearly doesn’t spare money for her care now. That should have been applied way back then.” “How could he have known? She walked out on her own free will when he didn’t want to have a permanent relationship. Besides Jason, you have had a bad relationship which ended up in divorce. No matter how many background checks he might order on someone, it’s difficult to know them until we live with them.” “I know that baby… The rational part of my brain knows that. But the irrational lover and your future husband in me are still angry,” Jason responds gruffly and melts my heart. “Sweetheart, you don’t need to worry about that any longer. I’m curious about something thought… Why do you think Leila lasted longer than the other ones?” “I think she figured out that if she did everything he asked of her to the letter, she would be a permanent fixture in his life like those Madonna paintings.”

“The only other woman who seemed to be a permanent part of his life was Mrs. Lincoln,” I murmur. “Don’t talk about that bitch, Gail,” Taylor says grunting. “I’m blonde, she’s a beautiful blonde. You don’t like blondes?” “Baby, it’s not the blondes I dislike…” he says and I make a face. What did she do or say exactly? Should I be worried? As if he reads my mind, he responds. “I only love you, Gail!” Jason says ardently. “But Mrs. Lincoln thought she got the meat hook of her claws into Mr. Grey permanently. She would help arrange these girls for him,” he says. “So, there isn’t a shop called Submissives-R-Us?” I ask. “I’m sure there is by another name. But, Mr. Grey goes to great lengths to protect his privacy. It’s not like he was incapable of finding one himself and he does have contacts. But, she would locate and see the girls in the scene and get her info to Mr. Grey. Interview with a Vampire… I mean a Dom, and bam he acquired a new sub. Mrs. Lincoln this way was always in the loop; her favorite place, always in control behind the scenes. Of course she wouldn’t say that she wanted to dominate him; he would cut her off immediately. Women – present company excepted –“ Jason amends himself, “can be more deceitful than men. They use different means than men. Men are very predictable. I’d rather go on a combat for a day than to try to maneuver around that blonde viper for an hour,” he says shaking his head while shuddering. “Why the dislike of her so much? I assume she was one of the subs in the past although she’s older than other subs he had. I’ve noticed that some men like older women,” I say trying to hide the hurt. “Baby… it’s got nothing to do with her age. She is the one who got Mr. Grey into the kinky shit he likes when he was 15! She named her salons ‘bondmaid’, for heaven’s sake!” he utters, anger rising in Jason. He’s usually very controlled of his emotions, and doesn’t get mad fast. “Bondmaid?” I ask, confused. I thought they were called Esclava. “Escala means a slave girl, or female slave, bondmaid whatever you want to name it…”

“Oh my heavens!” I exclaim, my hands automatically rush up to my face to cover my dropped jaw. “The woman is all twisted inside. She didn’t like it when Ana pulled her meat hook of nails out of Mr. Grey’s back one by one, and handed them back to her and sent her ass packing,” my man says proudly. He profoundly cares for Ana; and for some reason, that gives me no feeling of jealousy. “Ana may look similar to the other subs Mr. Grey had, but she’s more beautiful than they were. The other ones were aware of their beauty. Ana… not so much. Like someone told her she wasn’t beautiful when she was an ugly duckling or something and she kept believing in that. It couldn’t have been Mr. Steele. He just adores her. Her mom loves her to bits also. It couldn’t have been the last husband either. The man seemed very polite and very gentle on their wedding and Ana seemed to be fond of him. Of course I don’t know him, but I’m usually not wrong on my first impressions,” I contemplate out loud. “No, I think it may have been the asshole her mom married between Ray and the last one. She’s had four husbands. Kids believe in the shit adults tell them, even if they don’t want to. Then it becomes their reality. She went back to live with Ray after having lived with her mom and the step-dad right after Ray. Something happened to her there. That fucker made Ana lose her self-esteem!” Taylor spits out. “Jason Taylor, are you that fond of Mrs. Grey?” I ask him narrowing my gaze. I adore Ana, but I don’t know what to make of Jason’s repeated overprotective epithet. “Baby, I am fond of Mr. Grey’s wife like I am fond of my own daughter. Ana isn’t the first beautiful girl Mr. Grey brought home, but it’s beyond her beauty; she’s also decent, normal, sometimes crazy with love for her husband – and,” he says holding his finger up when I open my mouth to say something, “I only sympathize with Mrs. Grey because I know how I feel about you. I think, if you were threatened, I’d do anything to keep you safe. In her ignorant and childish ways, she tried to achieve just that. It was foolish, because she nearly got killed. I’m a trained soldier...” he says, but I cut him off. “As if you, being a professional soldier would ease my worry, Jason Taylor! I worry about you every day with the thought that you work to keep Mr. Grey safe, ready to take a bullet for him!” “You need not worry about that. I’ve had lifetime of training. She had not. But she makes up the lack with her gun loving, bossy attitude, and that little lady is the best

thing that happened to Mr. Grey and by God, she’s shaping him into a real man and fixing up the twisted fucker inside him.” “You just agreed with me that Mr. Grey’s other subs were also beautiful,” I say mock chiding while trying to hide a smile. “Yes, but finally someone whose inside beauty shone all the way through, and look at her now. She’s completely glowing. She knows she’s beautiful and confident in herself…” “Should I be jealous?” I purse my lips, mock teasing my guy. “No baby and you know this. I begged, groveled, and asked you to marry me for nearly four years, and you finally said yes to me. You, Gail Jones soon to be Taylor, are my woman!” Jason growls seductively. “Mrs. Grey is work who became like family; but she’s still work, Mr. Grey is my primary protection duty, and he’s as always our boss. I don’t know how Ana worked her way in there,” he says pointing to his head, “but she did. She also made her way in your heart. Although I fear that you have more affection for Mr. Grey than I care for you to reserve for any other man.” “Oh Jason! Mr. Grey is a good man. He needed a family and we were the closest things here before Mrs. G. But, how right you are Jason of your assessment about how fond I am of Ana. There’s going to be a little baby around the house! I’m very excited! And pregnancy makes her positively glow!” I say clapping my hands like a giggling school girl. “Speaking of which, some fucker leaked the news of her pregnancy to the Seattle Nooz, and the paparazzi were lined up both outside of Escala and at SIP. When Sawyer took Mrs. Grey to work this morning fucking paparazzi was short of attacking Mrs. Grey! They were swarming around the SUV at the SIP parking lot. The security is still inept. I will have to get there and inspect the security. Sawyer, for once didn’t take any chances, and brought her right back home.” “Oh dear! You know Ana is stubborn. I’m sure she wasn’t happy to be brought back home.” “That’s putting it very lightly. But, Mr. Grey was very specific after her kidnapping. We don’t leave anything to chance. If he finds out who leaked the news, someone’s ass is going to be canned or he’ll give him a taste of his own medicine. He was furious!” “More so than he normally is?”

“Touché. But yes. You didn’t see him when Ana told him she was leaving him when we landed to Seattle. I always have a pretty good idea of someone’s character, and initially thought I’ve misjudged her after he said she was leaving. Young, gorgeous wife of a fucked up billionaire sex god who was with him only a few months and she just announced she was pregnant and she’s in the bank withdrawing a few million dollars of his money. You know, you get ideas. Of course, seeing this seemingly indestructible man crumple into a million pieces without a single shot, and just with a few words even muddled my thoughts at the time. In my own defense, you gotta remember that I’ve never seen a man destroyed over a woman as irreparably as Mr. Grey did and never felt as bad for anyone as I did for him, then. I know he’s a fucked up, arrogant, rich young man on the surface, aaaaand of course he’s all those things but you learn a thing or a hundred about someone when you work with him 24/7 for four years. But, I knew I wasn’t wrong about Ana’s character. Something was amiss there. My mind was running a thousand miles an hour. Why would she only take just a few million dollars? Why not take him to the cleaners? It just didn’t add up. I know how Mr. Grey is the most intense man I ever worked with; he’s one of a kind. I worked with all kinds of assholes, but he isn’t one. I got to know the man better than the parents who raised him, or his siblings who grew up with him. They’ve known the symptoms of his disease, but never the disease. I think he deserves a chance and he’s almost human with Ana. So, naturally even I was panicking. He would be completely destroyed is she really left him. Well, you know the rest of the story. That day was a big learning experience for all of us. More than that, I realized that if none of us was given a chance to mend our ways, what’s the point of living? In a way I thought about us. I’ve been to combat more times than I care to think about. I’ve seen my buddies get killed. They were so unidentifiable, even the mothers who gave birth to them wouldn’t recognize them in their final state. When you live with someone 24/7, watch their back; keep each other alive, the bonds forged are indescribable. But, being in love is whole different ball game,” Jason says looking at me with his gaze softening. “I’d be destroyed too if you kicked me out of your life, baby. Mr. Grey was destroyed. If anybody wants to fuck him over, they’ll get his wife to destroy him and rip him to shreds. I know that he found his purpose in life with her. That’s why I drilled in both Sawyer and Ryan and anyone else we hire as security that Mrs. Grey is top priority not to mention she’s carrying a baby. If we perceive an imminent danger, she’s taken to a predetermined a safe location; in this case the location was home.”

I pull myself back up on the sofa and nuzzle into my man’s broad chest. He smells heavenly; masculine, just a bare hint of his perfume. “Jason, do you think it was the Rodriguez boy who leaked the pregnancy news?” “Nooo,” says Jason sure of his assessment. “He wouldn’t do that. Not his style. Though he’s a coward for not approaching Ana when she was available. The boy is head over heels for her, too. The idiot seems to get courage when he’s drunk. He tried to take advantage of Ana when she was drunk too, or when the girl of his dreams marries a possessive billionaire and the stupid boy learns that she’s pregnant, that’s the moment he decides to declare his love for her again in front of total strangers! The fucker is all left foot when it comes to declaring his love, all at the wrong place and at the wrong time.” “Well, Ana is a beautiful woman. Beautiful men or women can be intimidating before people can muster up courage to say anything.” “True darling but, Ana has been unaware of her beauty until Mr. Grey made it abundantly clear to her. He found a beautiful girl, a diamond in the rough and turned her into an irresistible woman. With that territory comes the jackals.” “You don’t see that boy as a jackal do you?” “No, just a poor sap in love with another man’s wife. I wouldn’t like it if someone declared love for you. You’re my woman! Mr. Grey had been very tolerant of him. Either he too is growing up, or he’s keeping his rivals even closer, or both.” “You wouldn’t be tolerant of someone if they expressed interest in me?” I tease. “Baby, I’ve made it clear to everyone in the security team the second they step foot through the door. You’re off limits. The only exception to that had been Stephen the pilot, but there’s nothing I can do about it, because he’s not under my command.” “Oh, Jason. I only went out with him once and that was 4 years ago. He’s not for me! You are!” “I don’t want to know what you did on that one date that made him focused on you for four years.” “He was into me, been a total gentleman, but I just didn’t feel the chemistry.”

Jason snorts in response. “He’s feeling all kinds of chemistry towards you!” he says almost accusing. “Sweetheart, it’s cute that you’re jealous of me, but I don’t feel the same way toward Stephen. He should have had quite a few women since I told him I couldn’t see him again. And I’m marrying you.” “Damn right, you are!” he says, and tilts my head up just the right angle and kisses me deeply, leaving me breathless. “God, Gail! You’re a spectacular woman. Where the hell have you been all my life?” “Is this your line to get me into your bed? If so, you’re wasting your breath because you already have me. Flattery I’m afraid won’t get you any further.” Corner of Jason’s mouth lifts up in a sexy smile. “Don’t be so sure about that, baby. I’ve got the night off. I’m going to ravish the hell out of you.” “The gentlemanly words every woman likes to hear from her man…” I tease. “Well, come on future Mrs. Taylor. The sooner I take you to my bed, the sooner you can be fucked and sated. We cater to all tastes.” “Since you put it so nicely Mr. Taylor…” I say as I try to stand up which is a hard task when Jason is keeping me down, wrapped in his arms. The invitation on the dining table catches my eye. “Don’t forget to give that invitation to Mr. Grey, baby.” “C’mon! Don’t dampen my mood, baby.” “There’s nothing wrong with your mood Jason Taylor! We’re going to live with them in the big house as two families. This is the best time for you to start learning when you clock out, you too can learn to relax. Honestly, you both have to learn to be less wound up. Mr. Grey is Ana’s job, but you Jason are mine. Tomorrow, invitation. Okay, sweetheart?” “Yes, ma’am!” Jason says saluting me, and all of a sudden he scoops me up completely surprising me, and takes me to our bed in big strides with the patience of a young groom who is about to have his bride for the first time.

November 1st 2011 Andrea

The sound of the percolator is music to my ears in the morning. My apartment generally smells like Starbucks with the best fresh ground coffee in Seattle. But, I had to run to work again earlier and I am now standing before the best coffee machine money can buy in the Grey House top floor kitchen. The whole place smells heavenly; I close my eyes and inhale the scent. I owe my 5:30 a.m. trip to work to Mr. Grey again. He didn’t come to work yesterday. Well, let me rephrase that: He came with Taylor ready to go to a meeting only to get a phone call from the hottie Sawyer and abruptly departed the company. Since he’s wife had been kidnapped and hospitalized, he has taken off more days then he had in the last 4 years, 8 months 11 days I worked for him as his assistant. Come to think of think, he hasn’t even taken a sick day off. As I grab a coffee mug from the cabinet I rack my brain. No, he never took any days off. The man lived and breathed Grey Enterprises Incorporated. He still does, but Mrs. Anastasia Grey now occupies the #1 spot of his affection. Only a few short months ago the girl in Wal-Mart clothing walked though those doors shy and completely intimidated but when she walked back in again through the same doors as the wife of Mr. Grey she looked spectacular inside and out. I can’t look at my own sex as a lover’s scrutiny, but I can judge a beauty. I guess this is the modern version of Cinderella. Even the cheap clothing couldn’t disguise Anastasia Steele’s beauty. I have to go to a facial therapy once a week, and buy $800 worth of beauty products once a month from Neiman Marcus to achieve a flawless skin. I would bet that Anastasia Steele had never been to a facial until she went beneath Mr. Grey in his bed. I find myself standing before the cabinet with the mug in my hand. I walk back to the super percolator and pour myself a cup of coffee. Close my eyes just inhaling the scent of it. I finally walk to the diet creamer. Ugh! I have to keep my shape, and hate putting these diet creamers and non-sugar supplements. Cancer in a neatly filled single dose packages. I sigh and walk back to a table to sit and enjoy the coffee before everyone else came to work. Where was I? Oh yes… My unreasonably good looking boss. Had I not had the training I’ve had, and researched about my future boss, I would have ogled him when I came for an interview. Well, I got my chance to see him on the fifth interview. Only the very top candidates are hired and the final interview is given by him. It took all my effort to not to stare at him. It’s hard to imagine a drop dead gorgeous man as an inanimate object. But I imagined him as the talking statue of David, and bam, my brain accepted that argument. I managed to get my job. I knew he was straight. These rich men rarely get married especially as young as Christian Grey. They have number of preapproved

vaginas or penises to utilize whichever way they swing their bat. Yet a girl dressed in Wal-Mart clothes captured his heart. I shake my head. ‘Listen to yourself! Are you jealous?’ my inner consciousness chides me. Maybe just a little. God, Mrs. Grey looked like a polished diamond when she came in here last month. Positively glowing and very sexy. The rumor around was always that Mr. Grey was gay, but I knew it differently. I’ve sent quite a few NDAs over to Mr. Grey in the past years. I had my suspicions. You can’t be a super assistant if you don’t know your boss well. You have to understand his or her needs before he utters them. Otherwise you’re out the door, and don’t you think you are irreplaceable. It’s like sticking your finger into the water. The second you pull that finger out, the water fills the space as if it’s never been in it. That’s the nature of these high-power assistant jobs. They’re coveted, in demand, pays a ton of money, consumes your life, the hours are not always definite; yet in the end, you’re one of the many talented candidates who would give his or her right arm for the position. I managed to buy my apartment instead of renting it for instance. Mr. Grey is very generous with the salary and the bonuses he pays. But, in return he’s very demanding. Doesn’t tolerate inefficiency, incompetence and boy can he get angry! “Good morning Ice Queen! Why are you so early?” I spew my coffee all over my tablet. “Jesus Christ! Geek! Why are you sneaking up on me?” I scowl as I grab a paper towel to clean my tablet’s screen. “I said hi, but you were so deep in thought, you didn’t hear me.” “No, I didn’t have my first cup of coffee. I usually don’t wake up until I have that,” I mutter. Why am I being nice to him? “You’ve been living and breathing at GEH for the last two months. Whenever I come to work, here you are. How does your boyfriend handle the competition?” I give him a sideways glare. “Yeah! A boyfriend! Currently my career is more important than devoting time to a single individual.” “Well, that’s what I say when I look for an excuse,” he says as he pours coffee. “Unlike you, I have lots of men asking me out!”

“You got me there Icy. I don’t have lots of men asking me out. And even if they did, I wouldn’t go,” he says grinning. “Stop calling me that, Geek!” I scowl. He could be cute. If he lost those glasses and got contacts, mussed up his hair, a couple of changes to his outfit, he could look like Ian Somerhalder. I inwardly groan. Not having a man in my bed getting to me ready to jump Barney Sullivan’s bones.

“I may stop calling you that at the first sign you may just be nice to me,” he says grinning. He has perfectly aligned white teeth. I shake my head. “Just take your coffee or quietly drink it. I have to organize for work today,” I say. “I’ll sit. Thanks for offering,” he says and sits across from me. “What’s the deal with the new intern?” “What?” “Why is there a new intern? What happened to Olivia?” “It’s the internship program. They’re about 4 months long. Either the intern applies for a permanent position, or moves on to search other endeavors.” “She’s not hired by GEH?”

“I don’t think so,” I reply. “Why?” “I don’t know. Maybe she wasn’t qualified, and the training wasn’t enough to get her qualified.” “Maybe her teacher wasn’t great,” he says casually. My head snaps up. “Got something to say, Geek?” “Merely making an observation ice queen,” he smiles. He’s enjoying this. “Only the 20 to 30 percent of interns get hired by GEH. You know the policy. Only the best gets to work in the company in the long term.” “I know, I’m just yanking your chain,” he says as he takes a sip. I shake my head and open my Google alerts on Mr. and Mrs. Grey. I have to know the news about them, what is approved by our public relations and what is fake and what is leaked. The alerts are two pages long. Just from overnight? I hold my mug and take a sip. I return the first page and open the first link as I take another sip. I spew my coffee all over my tablet again and choke on the sip that went down my throat. “Jesus Christ, Andrea!” shouts Barney as he jumps to his feet to pat on my back. Once I stop coughing, he grabs couple of pieces of paper towel and wordlessly cleans my tablet. Why hadn’t I noticed the news yesterday? Oh, right, because the boss wasn’t working, and I had to cover all the appointments, reschedule, and worked nearly a double shift. Barney looks up from my cleaned tablet noticing the news. “This says Mrs. Grey is pregnant. That bothered you?” “No dumbass! That’s either false news, or leaked news! That means damage control. Can’t you see the paparazzi hounding Mrs. Grey in the picture while Sawyer is trying to get her back to her vehicle with the help of the SIP security? Guess how mad the boss will be when he sees the news? Hell, he’s probably furious already! That’s why he didn’t come to work yesterday!” “In defense of the paparazzi, Mrs. Grey is a hottie! If she was butt ugly, no one would be chasing her. Everyone’s been talking about her in the company since she visited last month,” Barney whistles.

“Yeah, say that in front of your boss, and watch him can your ass, stupid!” I shake my head. Sometimes men only think with their dick! I check my watch. It’s 6:30 a.m. Janelyn will be here at 8:00. PR would be contacting to release some sort of information. We can be mum for a little while, or deny it. I’ll have to ask Mr. Grey, and that would not be the easiest thing to ask. Shit! Will he come to work today? He didn’t say he wasn’t coming today. Oh my God! Now the frigging paparazzi and magazines will be on the baby-bump watch! Poor girl will eat one too many tacos, and bam! She’ll be plastered all over Enquirer marking her 5 months pregnant! I don’t envy the people who are constantly on the radar. “Are you still mad at me for my remark? Look I’m sorry. I meant to say that Mrs. Grey is a beautiful woman.” “I’m not mad at you, you idiot! This happened yesterday morning! You know how boss is jumpy when it comes to his wife. The paparazzi were hounding her yesterday. She didn’t ask for this. There were quite a few of these paparazzi attacks since she got engaged to him. But worsened after she was kidnapped. It’s got to be traumatizing for her, and that will make him mad, and guess who works with him when he’s mad?” “Sorry Andrea! Wouldn’t wanna be you right now! Well, I’ll be in the server room. I gotta reboot some of the servers!” and he takes off with his coffee mug in his hand. My Blackberry quietly rings. Oh shit! It’s the PR already. “Hi Andrea! This is Jason from the PR. I’m sure you’ve seen the news. Listen, People magazine is calling for an interview with Mr. and Mrs. Grey about the pregnancy which is to say it’s not the only one in the list but this is on top of our recommendations because this interview could quiet down the paparazzi a little while. My boss is recommending this interview if Mr. and Mrs. Grey feeling up to it. Could you get back to me on that?” “Yes. I will talk to Mr. Grey about it after he gets to work today.” “It’d be a great help to sate the people’s hunger. We’ve been getting tons of calls from magazines since Mrs. Grey’s kidnapping, even from movie studios wanting to turn the story into a movie.” “Mr. Grey is very reserved and private, I don’t think this would be an option for him,” I say and hear an incoming call. I look at the screen. “You should inform him anyway… because,” he says but I cut him off.

“Wait wait. Tell me that later, I got an incoming call. I’ll get back to you today. Bye!” I hang up. Clearing my throat, I straighten my back and press the green button to switch lines. “Good morning Mr. Grey.” “Andrea. Get a hold of the PR. The fucking paparazzi have already set camp around Escala and SIP.” Mr. Grey doesn’t even tell me what the paparazzi camping around his apartment or his wife’s workplace for. He expects me to know it and I do. “I’m already on it sir. As a matter of fact, I was just on the phone with the PR. Jason from the PR said that the paparazzi and magazines have been calling constantly. They’re recommending an interview with the People magazine to quiet all the others down.” Mr. Grey groans loudly on the phone. “I have to talk to my wife about it. I’ll let PR know of my decision later. For the time being, they keep quiet.” “Yes, Mr. Grey. Is there anything else I can help you with sir? ” “That’ll be all, Andrea,” he says and hangs up. To the point as always. No extra word wasted. Janelyn walks into the kitchen ready to work. “Good morning, you’re early,” I say. “But not as early as you are,” she replies cheerfully. “I thought you might need help this morning after yesterday’s load of work. I figured you might come early, so I came early, too.” I just might like her. She’s not skittish like Olivia; she works hard, and does as she’s told without getting jumpy. “Alright! We got a mountain of work to tackle. Pour yourself some coffee and follow me,” I say picking up my tablet and mug.

DAMAGE CONTROL

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”

Lao Tzu

The fucking paparazzi! Anastasia was all shaken yesterday. She’s too shy to be around reporters and the hounding paparazzi scare the shit out of her! I run my fingers

through my hair in exasperation. Taylor is waiting, no, rather bristling with nervous edgy energy outside my door. “Taylor!” I shout. “Yes, sir,” he says coming in. “What’s up? Bad news?” “No, no…” he murmurs. He’s holding something inside his hand. “Someone sent a courier? A message? What is it man? What’s the problem?” I ask impatiently. “It’s nothing. It can wait,” he says. I frown and extend my hand. He reluctantly places something into my palm. It’s a lightly scented thick envelope with my and Anastasia’s name elegantly written on it. I open it, and pull out the invitation to Gail and Taylor’s wedding. My face softens. “This is an invitation. Do you want us to come to your wedding?” I ask surprised, my voice a little hoarse. Ana told me that my staff was fond of me, but I thought she was just being kind. I clear my throat. This is welcome news considering all the shit we’ve been through yesterday and the scare Ana had gone through. I will up her security and she isn’t going to like it. I lift my eyes up from the invitation. Taylor looks indecisive. “Look Taylor. Uhm, we’d love to come of course and thank you and Gail for the invitation. But, I know women. If,” I say and search his face, “if, Gail put you up to it, I’ll relieve you the obligation of inviting us. I can always have a business meeting or some prearranged deal if you want to be free of your boss on your wedding day.” Taylor blinks, and his eyes dart right and left as if he’s surprised to find a boss who can be understanding. I’m not getting that soft. Taylor is my right hand man. I have to relieve him of pressure on the most important day of his life so when he comes back, he’s recharged, and less nervous. He shifts on his feet looking at me. He clears his throat. “Well, the thing is Mr. Grey; I guess I don’t mind you coming. I’d rather not have her caddy sister. But she’s coming. That’s the only sister she has. I’ve got no family except my daughter. Guess, Gail had this silly notion that my job is my family too, so, in a way, I’m married to my job, so that makes you and Mrs. Grey family. Oddly enough,” he mutters. This is the most he’s spoken in personal terms. Taylor, like me is a man of few words when it comes to family. Avuncular, Anastasia said about

Taylor. We all have adopted families, but I think in the end we have created something else here unexpectedly. It’s all Ana’s doing. Guess my staff does care about me. I clear my throat. I think a change of pace will make Anastasia happy. Give her something to think about other than the paparazzi. Kate and Elliot’s wedding is months away and that’s about the same time as the junior is due. This will be something she’ll be happy about. “Well, I think Ana would love to see you and Gail wed. She sees you,” I don’t want to tell him like an uncle. Taylor isn’t old. “She sees you and Gail part of the family. Hell, in just a few months, you and Mrs. Taylor will be living right above our garage. If it’s all the same to you, we’ll remain low-key on your wedding. That way our women can be happy. They say the wedding is for the women anyway.” “Yes, they say that…” he murmurs. “So, November 12th then?” I ask. “Yes, sir.” “Congratulations. Andrea should send you the account information that was set up for your expense account.” “You don’t have to do that Mr. Grey,” he says. “Well, it’s the least I can do. Because of your foresight, we were able to save Mrs. Grey and our baby. You earned it,” I say and he just nods in response somberly. “By the way, have the paparazzi gone from Escala or the SIP?” “Neither, unfortunately. They’ll keep camping until there’s a confirmation of some sort and then they’ll go on a baby bump watch,” he says. I frown. “Shit! I was afraid of that. Let’s workout first, and I’ll decide how to deal with their asses. By the way, whatever happened to the freelance reporter we sent to camping to the Canadian Rockies?” “Rescued by the Mounties after a month of enjoying the nature. We’ve left his supplies of course, but enough to let him respect his betters. He’s left with a warning. We’re keeping an eye on him from time to time. My special ops buddies need something fun to do time to time,” he grins. “Let’s go workout.”

***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

When we return from workout it’s nearly 7:30 a.m. Gail is fixing breakfast in the kitchen. “Are you ready for breakfast sir?” she asks. “Not quite yet Gail. Is Mrs. Grey up?” “No she didn’t come out yet,” she responds. When I walk back into our bedroom, Anastasia’s hair spread out on the pillow, some tendrils covering her cheeks. Her arms stretched out onto our pillow. The sheet is just below her breast exposing her, immediately making me hard. She has goose bumps on her breasts and her nipples are puckered with the slight air circulation caused by the fan. She shifts in bed, and rolling onto my side of the bed. She pulls my pillow into her embrace absently. I watch her mesmerized. Lovely, doesn’t even describe it. I take two quiet steps towards our bed. After leaving the invitation on the side table, I continue watching her. Anastasia’s eyes slowly flutter open. “Hi,” she says in a groggy voice. “Hi baby. How are you feeling?” “Good. Did you just workout?” she asks slowly rolling onto her back. That exposes her right breast. I inhale sharply. “Did you just workout?” she asks again, inhaling my scent. “Yes, I did,” I reply my eyes focused on her chest. She licks her bottom lip and bites it.

“Don’t bite your lip. I just had a workout, and it didn’t even dull the edginess in me. You’ll make me jump you, and I’m too sweaty and dusty right now. I was in the ring.” “Would it turn you off,” she asks slowly, “if I told you that I find you sexy when you are glistening with workout sweat?” “Sweat turns you on?” “You turn me on husband… I think the sight of you the first day I slept in your bed, when you walked in after your workout was insanely sexy, like it is now.” “Mrs. Grey, are you seducing me?” She's got me by the balls. I've got you Under my Skin - Katharine McPhee

“I hope so, you’re the only man in the room,” she says with a lascivious grin. A deep primal, guttural sound makes its way through my throat. Her morning sickness had been touch and go this month. And she’s not talking about work right now. I shrug my t-shirt off, and toss it in a heap on the floor. Then hooking my thumbs under my waistband I shrug my sweatpants and boxers off. Anastasia visibly swallows and slowly rises up in sitting position, the sheet sliding off her body and the curve of her growing breasts partially covered with her cascading hair gives a heavenly sight. I place a knee on the bed and pull her against me. My body is firm and damp with sweat. Her soft curves perfectly fit into my hard muscles. My cock is hard and heavy against the folds of her sex. Anastasia moves her body to feel me more. She shivers and her body is now totally awake and alive with singular purpose. “I need you to hold on to me tight, baby,” I whisper in a husky voice.

“Yesss…” she moans, holding onto my body like a life raft. Rotating my hips, I move my cock and slide into her hungry sex until the slick lips of her sex kiss the base of my cock. Her legs wrap around my torso, her heels digging into my ass in an effort to urge my cock deeper inside her. Anastasia arches her back as she rises over my cock, thrusting her breasts to my lips. I capture one nipple, and the cooled, perked up peak is welcomed into the warm wetness of my mouth. I begin to move against her, upwards, driving urgently into her sex. Our hips are in synchronized. When I pump into her hard and hot, she descends onto my erection, embracing it like a tight fist, and pulling me into the depths of her sex. My balls tighten and slap against her anus every time, making her moan.

“Ana, I’m going to go deeper baby!” I moan, “I’ll push you against the wall, and drill into you hard and fast!” “Yes! Please!” she groans. I place Anastasia’s back against the wall just as the right level to bury in her deep. I pull back and thrust into her hard.

“Again!” she shouts as her arms wrap around my torso, her nails digging into my back. The heavy weight of my cock thick and pulsating, claims her from inside. Anastasia is writing before me, her nails are clawing my back and she tries to move her body in her quest to get to her precipice. My skin turns completely hot beneath her hands, and our collective breaths are heaving from our lungs. My movements are rapid, hard and feverish between her inviting thighs. Anastasia moves one hand to my chest and her nails dig into my nipple. She twists it with her thumb and forefinger making me thicker inside her. I groan her name ready to lose control. “Come on baby! Give it up for me!” I cry out, my body tense, rigid, and steel hard against her lush now sweaty curves. Her sex tightens, fisting me inside tighter, pulling me further, keeping me longer in the depths of her sex in a rush to climax and milk me. Her legs hug me tighter, her heels dig in harder, and she shouts out, “Christian!” My burning pleasure is released inside her in pulsing jets thick and hard. The mixed moans of each other’s names are swallowed when I claim her lips in fevered passion, lust and admiration of my wife. “Anastasia…” I whisper her name in a satisfied voice, as I close my eyes on a ragged breath. I place my forehead over hers and inhale the arousing smell of sex, her intoxicating, evocative scent of femininity mixed with my personal scent of masculine spiciness and the faint traces of my cologne creating something that is uniquely ours.

“What are you doing to me, baby? You turn me on with one glance and unman me immediately.” She holds onto me tighter. “Thank you,” she whispers. “For what?” “For taking care of my needs, watching over us, making me a priority in your life… for loving me,” she whispers. “I’m your husband. It’s what I do,” I say as I ease her off my cock. She winces. “Are you okay?” I ask concerned. “Did I hurt you?” “No. I’m not made of glass Christian. I’m okay,” she smiles reassuringly. “Come. Let’s take a shower,” I tug her with me to the bathroom. “Yes, I need to get ready for work,” she says making me stop at my tracks. “After what happened yesterday?” “I’m not having morning sickness,” she says. I arch my eyebrows. “Not as bad, Christian. I’ve been doing better in the last week. Dr. Greene said half a day would be fine, remember?” “Dr. Greene didn’t see you get ambushed by the paparazzi either. So much so that Sawyer had to get back up from the SIP security to get you back into the SUV.” I head us back into the bathroom again. Without releasing her hand, I turn the shower on. “I have a proposal,” I say. “What kind of proposal?” she asks narrowing her eyes. “I don’t want the paparazzi keep hounding you until your pregnancy is officially disclosed. You’ve entered into the second trimester. My PR is recommending to a sit down interview with the People magazine.” “Don’t you think that just three months is too early for that?”

“I actually don’t know the protocol for pregnancy disclosure interview but I don’t want some fucker to corner you and scare the hell out of you trying to picture your baby bump or put you and Sawyer in a car chase. They have caused accidents in the past, and I’m not willing to have you to become an addition to the victims of paparazzi.” “Christian, I don’t know if it’s necessary…” she stars. “Ana, you promised! For the baby’s safety, you promised! If anything happened to you or both of you, I’d go insane! I understand that we have nothing to show a magazine so far. No baby’s room or anything like that. Maybe a press release and some professional pictures of both of us would suffice. That way we have the control of what is put in, and what is said. But, since you saved my sister, you’ve become an idol for a lot of people, and they want to get to know you,” I say cringing. “You want to get the baby’s room ready?” she asks starry eyes. Leave it to Ana to deduce that conclusion out of everything I said. “Well, no, not today. But if it’s something you wish to look at, I can certainly schedule time to go with you.” I tug her into the shower. “Oh, I thought you wanted to go, do shopping.” “Ana, I’m telling you that there’s going to be more people, more reporters, paparazzi chasing you. So far, we’ve been able to keep them somewhat contained,” I say and turn her back to me. Squeezing some shampoo into my palms, I lather her hair and massage her scalp. “I’m going to up your security. One more person will be added to your detail.” She stiffens. “It restricts me Christian. I need room to breathe. It’s very annoying when I have a woman tagging along when I go to pee in the bathroom, and you know I can’t even pee when you’re there!” she sighs. “But it’s better to have your personal protection in the bathroom than a crazy paparazzi hiding in the next stall. It comes with the territory for us baby. This is part of our lives. I need to know that you both are safe. I can’t function if I have it in the back of my mind that there’s a lapse in your security when it is easy for me to correct it. We’re not under the radar baby. We’re going to be on it in the long haul. This is why I like protecting our privacy. We may never be off the radar. You’re a drop dead gorgeous woman, and I’ve

been told I’m good looking by my wife. We have money; we have a life style other people only dream about. There will always be people who are interested in us.” “How long will I have two security guards? I like Sawyer, but someone else…” she cringes. I later my hands with body wash and start washing her shoulders, going down to her sides. My hands stay across her belly, my fingers splaying over it. Her breath catches. “It’s for the blip. Sawyer for you, and the other security for the blip.”

“Fine!” she mutters. My soapy hands move up to her aching breasts and cup the heavy mounds. “Good girl…” I whisper. She raises her arms and wraps them around my neck while pushing her breasts into my palms, effectively cutting our conversation. She tilts her head sideways, making it easy for my head to dip and kiss her at the right angle.

***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

I put my crisp white shirt on, Anastasia buttons them for me. I pull my boxers and Anastasia chooses my charcoal gray suit. I put the pants on and zip it up. She holds the jacket for me. She already has her white lace panties and bra. She decides on flowy skirt and curve hugging blouse. Then she sits at the edge of the bed and puts her heels on. Her hair is put behind one ear but the other side is freely falling onto her chest. So fucking hot!

She then notices the envelope I brought into the bedroom and left on the dresser. “What’s this?” she asks turning it over and sees both our names. “An invitation to Taylor and Gail’s wedding.” She gives me a genuine grin. “Oh! I’m so happy for them. They now have date!” When she looks up to me, her eyes are bright.

“We’re invited? Really?” “Yes, we are. We’ll be a little low key considering how dedicated Taylor is to his job. We’ll pay for their wedding and honeymoon as a gift from both of us and the blip,” I say. “Husband,” she says getting up holding me. “You are the kindest, most generous man I know.” “They’ve been with me for a long time, and Taylor has just done so much to save you both. I owe him this much.” “I’m actually looking forward to it!” she says giggling. “Let’s go have breakfast. I’m famished.” “Yes, ma’am!” Who am I to argue when all her appetites are in full gear? We aim to please. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

I walk my wife to the door of the SIP while Ryan and Sawyer are pushing the reporters away. “Mrs. Grey! Is it true that you’re 3 months pregnant?” ask a female reporter. “Is it a honeymoon baby?” shouts another reporter. “Mr. Grey, were you two married because of Mrs. Grey’s pregnancy? Was this a shotgun wedding?” It’s a male reporter. Anastasia’s face is horrified with the gossip that’s brewing. “Mrs. Grey, some reports say that you’re more than 3 months pregnant! That would put the pregnancy prior to your wedding. Did you plan to get pregnant with Mr. Grey’s baby?” The insinuation is all there. “Back-off asshole!” Sawyer pushes him and his microphone away from Ana’s vicinity. “Christian, what are they saying?” whispers Anastasia terrified. Her eyes are wide, scared. Her face says it all without words: I’ll never have a normal life again. “Mrs. Grey, were you involved in your sister-in-law’s kidnapping?” My head snaps up, and I can tear that fucker to pieces. I find Taylor at my elbow. SIP security comes to aid.

“This is a private property. This is your one and only warning to get off the property or we will do it with the police escort for trespassing and harassment of an SIP employee,” shouts Roach. The sirens are already heard around the corner. The first sight I see is Detective Clark with several uniformed officers. “You heard the man. This is a private property. Your freedom of press does not give you the right to harass a young woman; neither does it give you the right to trespass a private company’s property. You can all spend the night in jail, or you can leave peacefully.” The crowd disperses with murmurs and grunts. “Mrs. Grey! Ryan from Seattle Celebrity News! We have information that led us believe that you are in fact involved in your sister in-law’s kidnapping personally. Two people you worked with were in it up to their eyeballs. How involved were you in planning the kidnapping of Miss Mia Grey? Why did you go along with one of the kidnappers? Why did you run away from your own bodyguard? Mrs. Grey! Was your boss Jack Hyde your lover?” “Shut the fuck up!” Sawyer shouts shoving the reporter into a uniformed officer. “Are you going to stand there let this bastard harass a good woman and slander her name?” The uniformed officer twists the reporter’s arm and places the handcuffs. I’m bristling with uncontrollable anger. In one hand my wife is distressed; in the other hand some fucker is threatening my wife with his accusations! “The truth will come out!” he shouts. “That’s right, the truth! And you wouldn’t know it if it bit you in the ass, fucking bastard!” I hiss crushing three strategically placed fingers under his throat with the minimum amount of effort. The reporter goes red in the face. Taylor jerks his head to Sawyer wordlessly, and he backs away from me. “Mr. Grey. Please! Don’t just stand there!” Clark shouts at his uniformed officers. “Take this jerk away and book him! I apologize Mrs. Grey, Mr. Grey. I heard what they said. They won’t be able to come onto the parking lot or the premises tomorrow, or you or the company security can call 911 for help.” Anastasia stands at the threshold of SIP; shaken and silent. She looks as though someone just slapped her, baffled that the truth can be twisted so easily; one’s agony becoming someone else’s entertainment in a cheap magazine. For the first time since I’ve met her, I see Anastasia indecisive and reluctant to walk into the SIP, or walk at all

in any direction. Stopped in the middle of life, and lost her way. Gone is the cheery, lusty wife I had this morning. These fuckers just stole her joy. Yes, I would love my wife to be home, and safe. I would love her to be waiting for me when I got there, but in a dark corner of my head I know that it would slowly but surely give her resentments and dim her spark that I fell in love with; I don’t want my wife to lose the fight in her. Not for me and definitely not because of some fucking paparazzi. “Workday, Ana! I’ll walk you to your desk,” I whisper, letting her know that I’m with her. “Maybe I should stay home today…” she whispers. “When you fall off the bike, do you walk back home, or get back on it?” I ask, opening the door leading her in, ignoring everyone else. “Good morning Ana!” shouts the cheerful African-American receptionist. “Hi Ana!” jumps up her assistant. Anastasia can only nod at them blankly. I walk Ana into her office, and I might have closed the door to her assistant Hannah’s face. “Ana, baby, look at me…” I urge her. “Is that what people really think of me?” Driven to Tears - Sting and Robert Downey Jr.

“No! That’s just the fucking paparazzi spreading rumors or try to get a rise out of you. But I will sue and put their fucking establishment apart piece by fucking piece! Why does it matter what others think? What I think matters, but not what they think!” I jab my thumb towards the door. She sinks in a chair before her desk. “But, they’re making it sound like our baby is a tool to keep you with me. Who would be spreading such vicious news? That’s not true at all! Sooner or later someone I know or care about will think that it’s true about me,” she says as she puts her hand protectively over her belly. “Ana, if they believe in that shit and not you, then they’re not worthy of your regard.”

“But, it’s so easy to believe. Even you thought I was leaving you for money at first,” she murmurs. “Only because it was you who told me she was leaving. I believed you, not the fucking paparazzi. But, I was an ass. I know better now. You love me, and I sure love you baby! This is a problem and we are going to resolve it together. Remember, there are so many celebrities who live through this day to day. Each and every aspect of their lives are examined by others. You’re famous because you’re my wife. But also because you’re a beautiful woman who has done something courageous. Some people will twist it no matter what. I will do everything in my power to protect you and our baby. Meanwhile, you’ve got to work today. I’m sure you have tons of things to do. I’ll straighten this problem out today. Maybe we do need to do a sit-down interview with a respectable magazine to rest the rumors and declare your pregnancy.” “Oh, I don’t know. I’m shaken.” “Ana,” say lifting her chin up. “It will be in our terms, our place, and our story. We get the questions beforehand. I see them and we approve them together. That way you have control of the situation. Okay?” She nods absently. “Ana, please, you’re worrying me. Look at me…” I plead. Her eyes finally focus and look at me. “You and me, and this blip inside you. Nothing and no one else matters. Don’t; don’t surrender the control of your emotions to these fuckers. To me, yes. To someone else, no!” She takes a shuddering breath. “I’m trying. It’s just that, I’ve never been accused of something so vile, so vicious, and so publicly when I nearly died and lost our baby in the process to save Mia. How could anyone think that I had anything to do with it?” “You are letting others take control over your emotions by letting these thoughts get into your head. The correct process goes through our method of refuting these accusations; because we know the truth. We will get it out at our time, in our terms. What you need to do is to regain your self-control.” “How? I can’t live in a bubble away from the society, Christian.” “Sometimes they are necessary as protective layers. We don’t have to answer the gossip columns. You will hear and see things that you will dislike. That’s part of this life. People are drawn to money. Drawn to beauty. Drawn to status. Because they represent power. They want that for themselves and some will do anything to get it. So, in order

to reach their goal, they will employ nasty means to destroy the person or damage him or her. You have to have a thick social skin. You have true friends who love and care about you. You have me, your husband who is madly in love with you. We have a baby on the way. We have everything anyone can desire. Why should someone you never met control your emotions so easily by spreading a few lies?” I ask arching my eyebrows. “Because they’re poisonous. I’m worried that it might hurt you, or that you might believe in them.” “Ahhh. Now we reach the root of the problem. When I held your cold body in my arms, my world was shattered. You are my everything. Some fucking stranger will shout a few words and change what I feel for you? I will rip them apart. I will never…ever… let anyone harm you, physically or emotionally. I promise.” “Thank you Christian!” she says fervently and hugs me tight. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” “You will never find out, baby. Because, I’m the one who can’t live without you! Now back to work. Half day only today.” “Okay,” she responds. “Sawyer and Ryan will remain here with you. Don’t go out for lunch. They’ll bring it in for you.” “I will,” she says holding on to me tightly like a woman drowning. My heart clenches. Whoever is playing this game, and left these fuckers loose, I will make them pay. I kiss my wife, and leave her at the SIP with a heavy heart. When we reach the SUV, I turn to Taylor, “did you inform Welch?” “Yes, sir. I did. Someone’s spreading rumors around and letting the gossip magazines do their dirty work for them.” “Are your guys keeping an eye on Linc?” “Yes, sir. I’ll request some reports this afternoon.” “Do it faster. And when we get to GEH, get the fucking lawyers online. They want a head hunt, they got one!” Whoever is behind this, he’s fucking with the wrong man. My

eyes darken with calculating anger, and determination. My Blackberry buzzes. I pull it out and check the e-mail. From: Alex Pella To: Christian Grey Date: November 1st, 2011 Time: 9:03 a.m. Hey Grey! Rumor has it that you have a child on the way. Congrats to you both! But the real gossip is that someone’s trying to muddle the waters for you to disguise something else to go down. Whatever you’re experiencing now is just a simple diversion. I don’t know what that something else is yet. Lips are very tight so far. Keep your loved ones close, enemies even closer. No names are being mentioned, yet. Expect the schemes to be complicated. Be on the guard. I’ll keep my eyes open and ears close to the ground. Let you know if I hear anything. Your friend. A. Fuck! Who is behind all this shit?

CHAPTER XV THE MASTER OF MY SOUL He who controls others may be powerful, but he who has mastered himself is mightier still.

Lao Tzu

“Welch! I want some fucking answers! How did this news leak? I want you to find the source, and I want you to find who is stirring the pot spreading malicious rumors about my wife!” “I’ve already dispatched some of my men to dig around, sir.” “How soon can you get back to me?” “We can either buy the information from the main source, or exchange information. But I don’t recommend it with the tabloids. It is however best to have a backdoor open for such cases as these.”

“No information exchange with the tabloids. My PR is going to set something up with one of the mainstream magazines.” “Yes, sir. But even if the sit down interview, pictures, the whole nine yards is done with a mainstream magazine, paparazzi will do 'the baby bump watch'. You’re ‘it news’, sir.” “How so? I guard my privacy jealously!” “Mr. Grey, you have been a hard working CEO, young, and for all intents and purposes unattached and unreachable. When, Mrs. Grey captured your attention, people got curious. They want to know who this young woman is. Because, you’ve not been seen with a woman in public before, the dogs are sniffing around to see what made Mrs. Grey special for you. I wouldn’t be surprised if they went sniffing around her old workplace, friends, or hangouts, trying to dig a blemish, an ex-boyfriend, or anything in that nature. They’re looking for a Cinderella story they can tarnish given the current events with Hyde,” he says and I grit my teeth in rage. “Find out what or who is behind it! I’ve also forwarded Pella’s message. It’s more than the paparazzi. Something is brewing, and I need you to contact him and find out what he has heard! All these things couldn’t be one big coincidence.” “Okay. I’ll get in touch with him right away," he says before I hang up. I run both my hands over my hair. I run all the names in my head that could cause a problem. The list is led by none other than Roger fucking Lincoln. But he has no way of knowing of my wife’s pregnancy unless he's got someone tailing us or her. Such a leak would benefit him the most.

The line is brought down by Jose Rodriguez who had a fit and a near nervous breakdown when he discovered Anastasia’s pregnancy. He does have a few connections with the Portland Printz but these were the paparazzi. It couldn’t be Elena. She didn’t know about pregnancy. That leaves the family. But none of them would leak it intentionally. I pick up my Blackberry again. Scrolling through numbers, I find his. The phone rings four times before it’s picked up. His voice is breathy like he just had sex or ran a marathon.

“Yeah!” he answers as he breathes rapidly. There’s no agitation if I distracted anything. “Jose, this is Christian Grey.” He tone cools down several degrees. “What’s up man?” “Did you talk to press or anyone about Anastasia’s pregnancy?” “The press?” he asks surprised. “Of course not. I didn’t talk to anyone after I had an earful from my dad and Ray all the way home!” he says snorting. “Are you sure?” I press on. “There were only a few people who knew of her pregnancy and you’re the one person who flipped about it!”

“Look man! I’m sorry. I feel horrible… in fact dreadful about it! Ana hasn’t been taking my calls since that day. Do you think I’d go and rat on her to a newspaper further ensuring the demise of our friendship?” he asks angrily. “She’s my friend! I’ve been trying to get her to forgive me,” he says in a low voice. “I messed up and let shit get through my head. Now, I can’t take it back! I fucked up then. I’d never betray her like that. But, why are you asking me if I talked the press about her?” he asks genuinely. “Because she’s been ambushed by the paparazzi at her place of work who were less than kind to her.” “What?” he bellows. I hear a loud noise, and something shattering. “Oh, fuck!” a pained groaning declaration comes after. “I’m sorry that she got ambushed! I would never ever cause anything like that to her. I hope it wasn’t anything related to the scene I caused at the hospital. Oh man! Please tell me it isn’t the reason!” he rapid fires, completely anxious now. I don’t want to comfort him, but I am also convinced now that he has not caused this, at least not intentionally. “I don’t think it was anything related to the hospital incident. Okay...” I exhale a deep breath. “If I find out that you have leaked anything to the press about her pregnancy or talk to the press about my wife, I will get to you, and you will pay for it!” I hiss. “That’s fair enough. But, I didn’t, I would never, ever do that to her. How could you even think I’d do such a thing to hurt her?” he utters sounding wounded with my accusation. “The fact is Jose, you not only hurt her, but you embarrassed her in front of her physician, hospital security, my security personnel, your father and her father! You questioned Ana about her pregnancy as if she was a 14 year old girl knocked up by the first boy she ever saw! Anastasia is a married woman! Who the hell do you think you are to question MY wife about her pregnancy with our baby? If I want to knock my wife up, I don’t ask anyone’s permission. That is between MY wife and me! How dare you question her as if you have a claim on her? How dare anybody? But this isn’t even your first offense. You took her candid pictures and put them in an art gallery for others to ogle her and purchase her pictures like she was a commodity!” “But, you’re the one who purchased them and told me you loved the pictures!” he retorts. “That’s not the point. The point is that you have done that all without her permission. No matter how innocuous you may think of your behavior is, when you do something

to her without her permission, you hurt her! You even tried force yourself onto her by trying to kiss her without her permission!” “Please, just tell me she’s okay!” he says in a hoarse voice. “Well, Jose, she is NOT okay! She was terrified!” “Is she home?” “No. She’s working.” “I’m sorry. I really am. Ana’s my friend…” he stars saying, but I cut him off. “I don’t have time to ease your mind, or comfort your conscience! I am trying to protect my wife! So, make sure you don’t pull shit like you did at the hospital, or talk about her to someone, or do anything that is remotely hurtful to her! If you ever contribute to her misery, I will beat the shit out of you!” I hiss before hanging up hang up. Yet I feel more confused than ever. I’m completely convinced that the miserable fucker didn’t have anything to do with today’s paparazzi attack. Who the hell is after my wife and why? But I know that my wife is not the object of the attack; I’m the object and she’s the means to get to me. When we arrive at the Grey House a tall order of business to conduct is waiting for me. Andrea follows me into my office with her usual bristling efficiency. “Where’s, uhm...” I hold my forehead between “Janelyn,” I ask. I hope I don’t have another incompetent intern like Olivia. “She’s seating your next group of appointment in the meeting room. She’ll be tending them with their drinks until you get to the meeting room, sir.” “Who do we have?” “European buyers, sir. It’s a company called Unlimited Luxury. They have several orders put in and your meeting with them is on the schedule within the next thirty minutes. Ros will be in the meeting room within a few minutes. They’d like to speak to you about getting custom made yachts on regular basis for their existing clients in various European countries. They have said that there are only three companies in the world that can handle this kind of request and GEH is on the top of the list because of our strong safety track.” Of course I knew about the Unlimited Luxury. It’s an up and coming company with a very large bank account serving the world’s wealthiest when it comes to private jets,

yachts, or ultra-luxury vehicles. They like to be the main distributor in Europe and they have ambitions of expanding into Asia. This can be a profitable business venture if the price is right. Before going to the meeting, I e-mail Anastasia: ______________________________________________ From: Christian Grey To: Anastasia Grey Date: November 1st, 2011 Time: 9:37 a.m. Hi wife, How are you feeling? I miss you. I wish I could take away all the hurt and pain you felt this morning. No, this still doesn’t say what I want to convey to her… How do I express that she’s the center of my universe that what hurts her, hurts me more? I want to take everything that made her miserable away from her and simply make her happy. And the desire to punish those who inflicted this pain is gnawing at my soul. Let me try again… Baby, I love you. It’s that simple, really.

I love you so desperately; my feelings leave me at your mercy. I love you with all that I am, that anything that hurts you angers me, and fills me with such ferocious rage that I’m ready to take on anything that makes you upset, let alone miserable. I love your spark. I love your witty comments. I love your smart mouth. I love your intensity; I love your will to fight to be yourself. I love that you love me, that you love our baby inside you. You are my universe. At this point, I am simply a man who is madly in love with his wife. Whatever, whoever is outside and trying to hurt us don’t matter. Others don’t matter. I am big, bad and powerful enough to make that go away. Trust me. Trust that I love you. Trust that I will protect you and our baby. Trust that there’s nothing, no one more important than you and our child you are carrying. I will protect both of you. I’m no longer the same fucked up man when you’ve met me. I’m still fucked up in many ways, but you make me whole; you forced me out of my dark corner I refused to come out. You and you alone have given me reason to change. You make me want to be a better man. You gave me hope in the future; I have fallen in love with

you unexpectedly, quickly and desperately, Ana. I’d continue to love you even if you didn’t love me. Because, my love for you doesn’t have a prerequisite; it’s not conditional. But knowing that you do… that you love me makes me try harder to be deserving of your regard. You, Anastasia Rose Grey, are mine. My wife! And it’s my promise to you that I will make this go away. Christian Grey Madly in love CEO, Grey Enterprises Holding Inc. ______________________________________________ I get up to go to my meeting; my mind is still occupied with my wife. My fucking Blackberry is running out of charge. I put it in Andrea’s care to get it charged. “Andrea, if my wife calls, she’s to be put through immediately no matter how busy I am. Just get me. Remind Janelyn as well,” I command. “Of course, sir. It’s your standing order. I’ll remind Janelyn momentarily.” As I walk through the door, I tell Andrea to bring my laptop in. If Anastasia e-mails me back, I need to have access to my e-mails during meeting. Seeing her distraught like that today, leaving her at work and not bringing her back with me goes against every cell in my body. But, I can’t let her lose her spunk. I have to teach my wife how to be in charge of her surroundings even if her entire being wants to scream and run away. I have been an enigma, a well-kept secret before. My wife who is even more enigmatic than I, unknown to all only a few months ago is insanely hot and pregnant. She obtained a confirmed a bachelor, a man who some thought to be gay; the others who knew of my lifestyle would never dream that I would one day marry. Hell, I never thought that I could have this; I could love someone so indelibly, so completely. But now even imagining life without her in the hypothetical is impossible. Naturally, the existence of such a rare woman in my life becomes an item of news. But, I wish to keep her away from this unwanted attention especially from the paparazzi. Therefore, it’s at utmost importance that she can reach me any moment she needs me. My phone is out of charge and I need to be in a meeting for potentially a lucrative business deal. Taylor opens the door for me to enter. Ros is there and so is Warren. She looks like a young innocent woman, but that’s the downfall of the most business people when it comes underestimating her. She can make the devil wear his shoes backwards.

When I enter the meeting room, Taylor takes his usual spot in the corner, at an advantage point where he can survey and observe the entire room. Andrea nods at Janelyn imperceptibly. She puts the last bottled water onto the table in front of one of the businessman and walks to meet Andrea. “Bonjour Monsieur Grey,” greets me the CEO of Unlimited Luxury in his Parisian accent. “Bonjour Monsieur Decoux,” I respond with a professional smile as I take his proffered hand. « Avez-vous fait bon voyage? » I ask about his trip, though I don’t care one bit whether their trip was pleasant or not. He wouldn’t know that from my professional façade reserved for the business world. The face that says I’m uncommonly selfassured, tacitly dominant; the embodiment of the master and commander of all I survey. Not surprisingly, people respond to that in a submissive manner. The only exclusion to that would be other alpha males where I always declare my dominance above all. There can only be one alpha. Otherwise, we do not stay in the same place for a long time. It’s a matter of territory. And this is my turf. After the reintroductions, we discuss the business plan with the French businessmen and woman. They’re eager to do business with the GEH, because we simply build the best and the safest ships. Nearly two hours into the meeting, I still have not received a response from Anastasia to my e-mail. The thought of it distracts me and I have to pay extra attention to follow the meeting outline. Finally an answering e-mail arrives. My eyes immediately drift to my laptop and I move the mouse to open it immediately, effectively concealing my anxiety. I snap open my bottle of water and draw a sip. After reading Anastasia’s greeting, I take another sip to appear busy and listening to the French businessmen’s proposal. Decoux starts making his closing remarks. My mind is only half grasping what he’s saying. I do however catch his joke on making a poor sales pitch because he failed to fully read my face as to what exactly I thought of his proposal and made a joke about blaming it on his ancestors who didn’t wish to become the unfortunate recipient of dérogeance, or in other words loss of nobility due to commercial and manual activities which rendered the future generations with the lack of such skills also making a reference of his noble lineage. “I assure you Monsieur Decoux, I’m favoring your proposal, and we will give our full diligence in examining it and return to you with a counter proposal that will be beneficial for both parties involved.” My response makes Decoux smile and he

continues with his closing remarks. I turn back to my wife’s e-mail as I take another sip of the water. ______________________________________________ From: Anastasia Grey To: Christian Grey Date: November 1st, 2011 Time: 11:48 a.m. Husband, What a lovely message to get from my man, the love of my life. You have NO IDEA what your message did to me, how it elated me like a life preserve, how it lifted me up. Thank you! It amazes me that you can be so romantic, so articulate in expressing your love. Knowing that you didn’t do the love thing in the past, I am beyond ecstatic to be the first, one and only recipient of your affection. That tells me you are mine in every way possible, just as I’m yours. After you pushed me to face work today, I have to admit I was simply on auto pilot and had given all my attention to my waiting projects, reading and annotating manuscripts to keep myself so busy that I’d forget the morning’s incident. Doesn’t mean I like the paparazzi any better at this moment, but you, husband, you made me feel immensely better. By the time we had the editors’ meeting, I was feeling somewhat like myself. But it was your message, the declaration of your love that lifted me up. I only read it a few minutes ago, because I made sure I was busy throughout the morning. Now I wish I had seen it earlier. Seeing your tender words made me miss you. Really miss you... Thank you for loving me so much. Thank you for making me, making us feel safe. On another positive note which I know will make you happy, I feel ravenously hungry. Sawyer had gotten me a turkey sandwich, Greek salad then a croissant with cream cheese and hot Twinning’s tea. I’m ashamed to say that I ate them all about an hour ago and just got hungry again. I’m also happy to report that I feel no morning sickness so far (of course, I’ll be crossing my fingers after I hit send). I want to tell you that I too love you passionately, desperately, sometimes with such a shocking intensity that the aching craving I feel for you is completely indecent, vulgar, licentious, obscenely lustful and unbelievably voracious and it only got worse after you knocked me up… I mean since becoming pregnant. I desired all those things before getting pregnant but this craving is getting unbelievable! Here I am, a 22 years old woman with a job as an editor at a respectable publishing company and I’m unable to

concentrate on a simple task like reading a lovely manuscript. But, instead I find myself just thinking about my husband’s hands on my body and his cock inside me! I should still be upset from this morning and yet I’m lusting after my husband to distraction… I find the magnitude of my love and desire amplified many folds. I don’t think it’s just the pregnancy hormones kicking in. It’s you! You are my addiction. Pregnancy just made me a little bolder. I never thought love such as this would be possible. It used to scare me and in some ways it still does. But our love also became my lifeline. I’m endlessly happy that you, Christian Grey are my husband, all mine to have and to hold, to love, and to have you fuck me on the wooden crosses, and to spank me until you make me come screaming your name, and to be kissed by you everywhere while my hands are cuffed, and to play with you in the Red Room of Pain (pleeeease?) and to make love most evening and to cherish forever and ever. You are my soul. You’re everything to me. I love you! Ana PS: Note that I’m emailing from my Blackberry and not the SIP e-mail. See I can be amenable occasionally.  ______________________________________________ Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!!! Not only did I get a huge erection unexpectedly, lustfully at a very inopportune time, in the middle the God damned meeting, and with a roomful of businessmen who traveled from Paris to work out a brand new business deal, but I, Christian Grey just choked on my bottled water drawing everyone’s attention to me. Curious and some concerned gazes are all trained on me. “Monsieur Decoux, you are not only a shrewd businessman but also very entertaining with your witty comments. It must be a trait of the charming French men of nobility. However,” Ros says patting my back lightly with her hand twice, “Mr. Grey is very susceptible to French humor having lived in Paris in the past. Just don’t drown my boss with your wittiness. We still need him here,” she says smoothly with a delightful smile, drawing a hearty laughter around the table. Then remembering I dislike touch she asks, “Are you okay there Mr. Grey?” “Yes,” I say coughing again, smiling for their benefit. The meeting is nearly over, but I find myself in a state of arousal, and a huge hard on in the middle of my fucking business meeting rather awkwardly, incommodiously, and plainly. This has not happened to me, ever. Not like this! I’m always in control of my body. Just as Alain Decoux and his senior management officers ready themselves to wrap up the meeting and leave, I turn to them and to give my cock sometime to be tamed and

distract my mind, I quickly think a random question to ask. Somehow, Anastasia’s email found the emergency bypass of my brain and seized the control of my fucking cock! “Monsieur Decoux, now that we nearly wrapped up our meeting, I wanted to ask you your opinion on a French production. I’ve heard a lot of good things about the movie Intouchables. It’s supposed to be coming out tomorrow here in the U.S. I’ve read the book, of course. Since you have aristocracy in your lineage, I wondered if you read the book and whether you’d seen the previews of the movie.” Intouchables

He’s a little confused, but answers my segue. “I don’t believe I have, Monsieur Grey. Is there a particular reason for your interest in the movie? Forgive me; I don’t know the full context of the book or the movie. I’ve heard of it, but haven’t had the chance to read the book.” “Well, I was intending to take my wife to see it during the International Film Festival. I wanted to get someone’s opinion firsthand. Most times movies can’t do justice to the books.” Decoux’s right hand woman clears her throat. “If I may interject, Monsieur Grey. I’ve read the book and I’ve seen the movie during a special screening only last week,” says Julianne Durant with a barely concealed admiration. She’s a well groomed, well-spoken, well-educated aristocratic woman who is in her early 30s. Tall, slender, blonde, holding her own, but still has a long way to fill the Manolo Blahnik heels she’s wearing and to be Ros’ caliber. “And your thoughts on it?” I ask feigning interest. “I completely recommend it.” “Why?” I ask as Ros looks at me with such curiosity as if she’s trying to solve a difficult puzzle. “It’s beyond a stuffy disabled French royalty meeting an African immigrant, a potential cheeky caregiver who was trying to cheat the system by being rejected for the open position so he can collect his welfare check. They are two people who couldn’t be any different in social or racial backgrounds, yet, they’re what they need for each other.

One’s blood is as blue as it gets, and the other as common as it’s humanly possible. Yet, how you say it in America? It’s what the doctor recommended.” “I didn’t know you had a literary side Julianne,” says Decoux with peaked interest. “My blood is as blue as yours Monsieur Decoux. Graduating from Sorbonne and later Cambridge made me appreciate great literature, but, there are other reasons why I particularly enjoyed this book as well as the movie at the private screening,” she says articulately. “The main character is quite wealthy. He owns all the luxuries of life, stuffy like the old school blue bloods, but also is in possession of fast cars, private jets, yachts, even a chateau, but, alas, he’s unable to enjoy the refinements of life because he’s paralyzed. The underprivileged character finally makes the wealthy Philippe realize what he has and shows him how to relish his possessions and enjoy life once again. Anything that will make people appreciate finer things in life, luxuries we are offering Europe and Asia at large is a welcome sight for me and good for business,” she says smiling as if to show me she can be a shrewd businesswoman. I see Taylor on my peripheral vision discreetly looking at his Blackberry reading a text and frowning. Why is he frowning? Did Welch contact him? Or is it about Anastasia? If she had called me, Andrea knows she needs to bring my phone to me. She emailed me only half an hour ago. Did she get sick? Oh shit! She’s probably sick again. My gaze turns serious and I look at Taylor questioning eyes. He approaches the desk and leans down and whispers in a seemingly discreet voice but he knows to be only loud enough for others to hear. “Excuse me, sir. Apologies for interrupting your meeting. We have a minor emergency that requires your attention at your earliest convenience,” he says in a taciturn face. I look at him questioningly; intensity of my inquiring gaze scans his face for any sign of an emergency. When we lock eyes, I know immediately that this is somehow about Anastasia. The moment I confirm that there’s something going on about my wife, I feel anxiety and concern rise inside me. But on the outside, I don the predator look. With ice cold shards covering my gaze, I stand up with the ease and agility of the animal grace. Turning to the group of French businessmen, I pass my apologies, ready to make my exit. “Ladies, gentlemen,” I say buttoning my jacket, “it appears that a CEO’s job is never done. My colleagues Ms. Bailey and Mr. Warren will help you finalize the document while I tend an urgent matter that is requiring my attention presently. Monsieur Decoux, it’s a pleasure to do business with you. We will reschedule a final meeting after

we review the documents you’ve presented. And merci beaucoup Mademoiselle Durant for the movie recommendation,” and I nod to the rest of them as the businessmen stand up in response to my hasty goodbye. I quickly accept Decoux’s proffered hand, and ordering Ros to take over with my gaze, I leave the meeting room. As soon as Taylor closes the door behind us, I turn to him and ask, “What the hell is wrong?” “That was Sawyer texting. It appears he called your cell phone, but the new intern said you were in the meeting, and did not put you through.” What the hell? “I’ll deal with her later! Why was he texting?” “Mr. Jose Rodriguez showed up at SIP and apparently Mrs. Grey knew of his arrival. She went to lunch with him. Sawyer’s text said that he was apologizing the entire time and at first Mrs. Grey was reluctant to go to lunch but he insisted so he could ask for her forgiveness.” “Where the fuck was the bastard? I thought he was in Portland!” “No, apparently when you called him today, he was in Seattle. He felt bad about what happened to Mrs. Grey and came to her work groveling and apologizing,” he repeats. “Shit!” I alerted the bastard of my wife’s distress and drove him all the way to my wife! Did I forget to tell him my wife is off limits to him? “Yes, sir. But they’re not far. Sawyer drove them to a small Mexican restaurant off the beaten path.” I walk towards my office and stop in front of the reception area. Both Andrea and Janelyn jump up to their feet. I extend my hand for my phone. Ignoring Janelyn completely I turn to Andrea. “Why wasn’t I informed of Sawyer’s call?” I ask. Andrea’s face looks surprised, and then her mouth drops open understanding what Janelyn had or rather hadn't done. She closes mouth and opens again. “I’m so sorry Mr. Grey. I wasn’t aware that Sawyer called. I would have immediately brought the phone to you.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Grey,” Janelyn replies chagrined. “I was under the impression that only Mrs. Grey’s phone calls were to be put through, and I took messages for the other calls. Did I do something wrong, sir?” “Yes! You did! Sawyer is my wife’s bodyguard and you know it! You did not let him speak to me!” “I apologize, Mr. Grey. I… I was trying to go by the book and… I’m sorry,” she says finally when she sees my growing rage. “Don’t. Ever. Interrupt. Me! I will deal with tomorrow,” I say in a low voice. Too low to be mistaken with anything but malice. Janelyn turns puce and is ready to cry. “Let’s go!” I order Taylor. As we enter into the elevator, I check my Blackberry. There are two text messages from Anastasia. *Christian, Jose is here to apologize. He wants to go lunch with me to make amends. I will go and hear him out. I want to give him a chance instead of making assumptions about what he did. After this morning, I realized that I don’t want others to make assumptions about me. I should be kind and reciprocate in the same way.* The next message came 10 minutes after the first. *Either you’re busy or you’re okay with me going to lunch with Jose. We will be at Tia Rosa’s. Sawyer is driving us. I’ll call you when I get back to SIP* What the hell is my wife thinking? Jose! Going out with Jose! And what the hell is Jose doing? Didn’t I berate him just this morning about paparazzi hounding my wife? What does he do? He goes and finds my wife to get himself forgiven knowing full well that a simple picture no matter how innocent can be misconstrued. I’m writhing in anger. When the Ground Level dings open I take the lead with rapid steps and Taylor walks briskly to catch up with me. “Mr. Grey?” he asks. “What!” I snap. “Sawyer is on the phone, sir.” “Where the hell are you?” I hiss. “At a small Mexican restaurant called Tia Rosa, just off the main street. Mrs. Grey is safe, the restaurant isn’t busy.”

“What’s she doing?” I ask as Taylor opens the door of the SUV. He closes the door after I enter. “She ordered seafood tacos and chimichanga. She’s sitting with her arms crossed, leaning back in her seat, listening to Mr. Rodriguez speak to her,” he responds. Sitting back her arms crossed is good. That means she’s closed to him whatever he’s trying to say, or however he’s trying to impress her. “Why didn’t you insist on talking to me?” “Mr. Grey, I only had a few minutes because I first was going to prevent Mr. Rodriguez from seeing Mrs. Grey after the hospital incident per the briefing we had. But then Mrs. Grey came out and said she was expecting Mr. Rodriguez, and I should bring him in when he comes to SIP. He was already waiting at the reception area by then. Based on his behavior last time, I was unsure how he was going to behave and wanted to prevent him causing another scene. But, Mrs. Grey said all was well, and she would inform you of his visit. I wanted to follow protocol and inform you regardless. When the new intern said you were in an important meeting, I didn’t want to disturb you. However, Taylor had insisted that he is to be informed about every unscheduled trip, or unexpected visitor, so I texted him. I couldn’t talk because I had to go in to Mrs. Grey’s office with Mr. Rodriguez, and when he went back to the reception to wait for Mrs. Grey while she gathered her things, I barely had the time I did to quickly make a call to you and when I couldn’t reach you, Mrs. Grey was already out and ready to be driven. So, I immediately texted Taylor.” “Were there any paparazzi when you left?” “No, sir. The police took care of them all this morning and Welch’s men have been patrolling the radius of the SIP to stop any paparazzi that the cops may have missed. One of Welch’s men already followed us to the restaurant. He’s scanning the area just in case.” “We’ll be there in a few minutes.” “Yes, sir. Mrs. Grey is sitting at a booth close to the back patio. Follow the main corridor of the dining area and take a right, please.” “What’s Mr. Rodriguez’s demeanor like? Angry, anxious, confrontational, mean, loud?” I ask.

“Pleading. He seems to be begging. He’s talking in a low voice but speaking rapidly. And he looks like he could cry if Mrs. Grey said once terse word. Just wiped his right eye with the back of his hand,” Sawyer says as if he’s giving a play by play report. He’s playing on Ana’s soft and forgiving side. He should have thought about this before he started his shouting match at the hospital over my wife’s pregnancy. Unplanned, I admit it, but that is none of his damned business. My wife doesn’t have to explain jack shit to this asshole! “We’re right around the corner. We’ll see you soon,” I say and hang up. Taylor makes a quick right to the restaurant parking lot. If any paparazzi are here, it’d be like we’re all meeting for lunch. I enter the restaurant and Taylor follows me. The host looks up and she swallows. “How many people sir?” she asks. “I’m meeting my party here. Just one.” She looks at Taylor confused, but doesn’t say anything. She then shuffles and drops the menus, muttering an apology under her breath. Then, picking up a menu, she steals a quick glance in my direction then leads the way. I locate my wife, and in the same instance she feels my presence. Pinning her with my gaze, I walk towards their booth. She’s still sitting back but her arms are no longer crossed, and Jose is leaning forward, his elbows on the table, his hands are reaching towards Ana’s direction in an unconsciously pleading gesture. His gaze follows Ana’s eyes, and when he locates me he stiffens. My eyes focus on his arms reaching towards my wife. Tilting my head to the side, I raise my eyebrows with a reticent face. My gaze is cold, shards of ice. In slow but assured steps, with a presence declaring my dominance, I reach the booth they’re occupying. “Hello,” I say in a low questioning voice. “Christian!” Ana replies in a breathy voice. Her eyes scan me with a little awe, a little intimidation and barely disguised ravenous hunger. There is also a tinge of irritation. She narrows her eyes, questioning me what I’m doing here. Jose immediately leans back and pulls his arms away from the direction of my wife. He first looks like a berated teenager. I nail him to his seat. Then turning back to my errant wife, “Mrs. Grey,” I say both emphasizing and declaring my possession of her. “What are you doing here?” Anastasia asks, her voice breathy. “I heard that their fish tacos were great. You know me and good food. Of course, good food in the company of my wife, coupled with her earlier e-mail telling me

how hungry she was,” I say with a seductive voice, “I wanted to make sure I’d satisfy all her hungers.” The hostess turns red, flustered, Jose looks like he swallowed a nasty bug, and Anastasia first blinks, then her mouth opens. She wants to say something, but too shocked to say it. She closes her mouth then opens it again. She is both appalled, turned on and blushing all at the same time. I turn back to the hostess with a dazzling smile. “I don’t need the menu. Fish tacos and bottled water please. Thank you,” I say and unable to say a word back to me, the hostess nods, and hastily retreats muttering, “holly shit! ¡Muy caliente! Hot! Hot! Hot!” “Jose,” I nod with a cold gaze. I slide into the booth with grace next to my wife. “Hi baby,” I whisper locking my gaze with hers. She instinctively moves closer to me even though I can feel her agitation with me. I lean in, asking for her permission to kiss with my eyes. She reaches up, and I capture her lips with mine, kissing her possessively like there’s no tomorrow. She blushes crimson, left breathless when I’m through with her. She’s unable to look at her friend in the eye.

“Hi. I gather you got my text,” she murmurs. “Of course. I would have come sooner, but I was otherwise engaged.” “Engaged?” she asks narrowing her eyes. Is that jealousy? I like her jealous of me. My wife declaring her possession of me in front of other men is simply hot and a huge turn on.

“Yes. French businessmen and woman. I had a meeting.” “French businesswomen?” “Businesswoman. Singular. The rest were businessmen. Of course after receiving your e-mail, I was too… distracted… to focus on the task at hand.” “We were just having some Mexican food and clearing the air about… you know.” “So, I gathered,” I say with an impassive face again. “I didn’t know you were in town Jose,” I accuse him. “I am for another day. I have to go back to school though,” he adds hastily. “Since I was in town already, I wanted to talk to Ana and apologize to her once again. Nothing is worth destroying my friendship with her. I just wanted her to know that I’m always her friend no matter what, and she can always count on me. Although I had not been a good friend as I should have been, maybe she’ll give me a chance to make amends,” he says with double meaning. He’s basically telling me that he’d be waiting in the wings should I screw up with her, my child and all. “Isn’t that very considerate of you? Ana does need good, loyal, selfless friends who are interested in nothing but her well-being. I wouldn’t want anything upsetting my wife especially in her condition as an expectant mother,” I mutter in a flat tone to Jose with unblinking eyes. “How do you feel today, baby?” I turn and ask Anastasia in an overly solicitous voice. “Good. No morning sickness so far,” she says crossing her fingers on both hands. “Just very hungry,” she adds. I look at her barely touched plate. “You have not eaten much. Is there a reason why your appetite is suppressed?” I ask. “Nooo,” she says putting her napkin on the table hastily. I feel the rising tension on the table. “How’s your father Jose?” I ask changing topics. “Has he gotten better since the accident?” He takes a big gulp of breath as if he just came on the surface from the depths of the ocean.

“Yes, he’s much better. Still has physical therapy, but he can do some of the fun activities he used to enjoy. My dad, Ray and I were watching the Mariners play at Safeco Field just recently.” “Ray was well enough to go to the stadium?” I ask. I don’t know why it irritates me Jose spends time with Ana’s step-father. “They do have access for disabled, but yes, he was well enough,” Jose replies finally taking a bite of his untouched enchilada. A different waitress brings my fish tacos, and bottled water. “Thank you,” I say with a smile, and she whimpers batting her eyelashes. “You’re welcome, sir,” she replies in a breathy voice. Anastasia narrows her eyes on the waitress who scuttles away as she meets Anastasia’s forbidding gaze after the waitress’ submissive response. “Why don’t you get us the check?” Anastasia asks the waitress. “You haven’t eaten yet and neither have I,” I accuse. “I will by the time she brings it. I’ll take the rest with me to work.” “You’re still going back to work?” I ask incredulous. “Yes, I’m only out for lunch. I have a mountain of work to get through.” Jose eyes us curiously. “Can I persuade you to come home with me?” I ask. Anastasia’s eyes dart to Jose as she blushes to her hairline. “I still have four more hours to go, Christian. And since I feel well today, I think I ought to get through some of it,” she murmurs. The waitress comes back with the check, and I take a $100 bill and tuck it into the check before she places it on the table. “Keep the change,” I mutter with a smile. “I was going to get it, Christian,” Jose says petulantly.

“It’s alright. Your money’s no good here,” I respond. I’m not going to let another man pay for my wife’s meal. Then turning back to Anastasia, I ask, “would you like to come to GEH with me then?” Anastasia sighs. “Christian, I have too much work to do. Too many manuscripts to read and annotate, summarize and gist.” “We can stop by and get your work, and you can take it with you. Come with me,” I whisper in a low voice with nothing but a devilish seduction. She immediately knows my intent. “Can I talk to you privately?” she asks in a whisper. “Yes, of course,” I say, and stand up. Extending my hand, I help Anastasia up. “We’ll be back in a minute, Jose,” she briefly smiles, and he frowns, tossing his napkin onto the table. His nostrils flare, but there’s not a damn thing he can do about it. Anastasia walks back towards the patio. There are no patrons sitting there, and the lunch crowd is only sitting inside. As soon as the door springs back and closes, Anastasia turns to me. Taylor is guarding the door on the other side. “Why are you doing this Christian?” she asks frowning. “You know why,” I say in a low voice. “No, I don’t! Enlighten me, please. Is it because the paparazzi were accusing me of disloyalty to you? If it is…” “Stop talking!” I growl, leaning down to her lips. We’re only a whisper away from each other. I can feel Anastasia’s heartbeats. “I don’t give a shit about what anyone says let alone some sleazy paparazzi. I never have. What I care about, is you. The person I wish to protect is you, and the person you’re carrying inside your womb. You and this little one,” I say splaying my right hand on her belly and my left hand caresses the small of her back, “are mine. Both of you. I will do everything in my power to protect you both. Watch over you… I was worried today when I heard that Jose came to you. Because he came right after I called him today,” I say. “What? You called him? Why did you call him?”

“I called him because you were ambushed this morning by the paparazzi and only few people knew of your pregnancy, and only one of those people had a fit after hearing that you were with child,” I murmur. “I wanted to make sure that he wasn’t out to hurt you.” “He’s my friend, he wouldn’t do that!” she retorts. “Be that as it may Ana… He has a track record that says otherwise. I’m not about to let that list grow at your expense.” “What track record?” “Where shall I begin? Pushing his suit on to you, not to mention his tongue when I came to rescue you from your drunken stupor. Taking your candid pictures without your permission and then putting them on an art exhibit for other people to purchase. Making accusatory remarks that you were marrying me for my money…” she narrows her eyes with my last remark. “How did you know that?” “I heard him talk to you. Even if it was laced with a joke, that’s what he was thinking. My final straw was when he embarrassed you in front of your doctor and the hospital staff, accusing you of getting knocked up! I have had all I can take of Jose.” “He wanted to apologize, and make amends.” “That’s fine; he has done that. But the friendship requires two way respect. He has not respected your decisions, or choices, because they’re not to his favor. That’s not the behavior of someone who cares for his friend.” “Christian…” she exhales long. “Are you doing this because you’re jealous?” “It’s partly that,” I confess. “But that is not the primary reason.” “What is the reason Christian?” she asks. “Can’t I just have lunch with an old friend?” “Baby, if Jose was just an old friend who wished to have lunch with you, I’d not have a hard time. Well," I amend, "My old self would. What Jose is doing, or attempting to do is to fight for your affection.” “What? That’s ridiculous! He knows I’m a married woman!” she retorts.

“Oh, yes, he knows that very well, but baby, he’s still fighting for you, for your regard.” “Nooo…” she says incredulous. “I know you don’t see yourself as other men see you. But, Ana,” I whisper into her lips, “any man would fight for you. You’re beautiful, sweet, intelligent, sassy, smart mouth; you're simply a delectable specimen of a woman. I intend to keep fighting for your regard and attention. You’re my wife, and I am but a mortal man who is deeply, madly, irrevocably in love with his wife.” Truly, Deeply, Madly - Savage Garden

“Oh, Christian,” she breathes as I slowly walk her back to the wall and trap her between in the confinement of my body and the wall as my arms keep her in my captivity.

“Come home with me…” I whisper. “I have been hard since I’ve read your e-mail… quite publicly and unexpectedly I might add. You alone have the power to make me lose control.”

“I’ve not been myself all day, but I think you were right this morning. I need to gain control at work and learn to handle criticism, or at least not care about it so I can be myself the rest of the time. But, I am tempted to go home knowing I should get back to work. You’re not making it easy, Christian,” she whispers. “Baby, you constantly tempt me, and since receiving your e-mail today I have been a cocked gun, aroused, and hungry for your touch.” As the last word leaves my lips, Anastasia places her hands against my chest and presses me backward. Her hands travel under my jacket encircling my waist, reaching up my back. My eyes darken; my breath hisses through my teeth. My cock throbbing and aching to be inside her, inside the wet warmth of her luscious lips. “Compromise… Let me finish my work day today. I promise you can fulfill all that I asked in my e-mail.” “Topping from the bottom again, Mrs. Grey?” I murmur pressing against her. “Like you would surrender the control over to me, Mr. Grey,” she whispers carnally. “You have no idea what I’d let you do, baby. I’d do just about anything for you. And right now I have this overwhelming need to fuck you. Make love to you till you scream my name, and get you so sated that you won’t remember the name of anything male for some time!” Anastasia’s lips part and she swallows hard. There is immense desire in her gaze mingled with other emotions: love, lust, tenderness and primitive satisfaction of a woman who knows she got her man by the balls.

“Counter offer… You work two hours and I pick you up at 3:00 p.m.” I murmur nipping and sucking her lower lip. She groans. “Four o’clock.” “3:30,” I whisper pressing into her. “Deal!” she responds her blood heated. “Now, let’s say goodbye to your friend, and I’ll take you back to SIP before I decide to take you in the nearest private space,” I say holding my wife’s hand and tugging her behind me. Jose is unable to make eye-contact with Ana as she thanks him for making amends with her and says her goodbye. When he manages to look up at her he whispers: “You really are happy, Ana?” “Yes, Jose. I’m insanely happy with my husband,” she says squeezing my hand as her other hand absently and protectively travels to her belly. “Then I’m happy for you. But,” he says lowering his voice, “whenever you’re not, I’m there for you. I’m your friend,” he says leaving his unsaid words of how he wishes he was more. “Thank you. You are my friend, the brother I never had. I wish to see you happy with someone who cares for you and loves you the way you deserve to be loved,” Anastasia says to him. Then lowers her voice, “but, I’m not that person. I am a married woman in love with her husband. Madly in love…” then she takes a step away from me and holding Jose on his elbow she walks a few steps away from me. “I wish that for you, for your life. Not someone who can’t love you the way you love her. There will never be someone else for me. Ever. There’s only Christian. There will only be Christian. I can’t love anyone else like I love him. He’s my husband, he’s my life, and he’s my entire universe.” “He’s controlling,” Jose whispers under his breath. “He’s mine, and I’m his. I don’t want him any other way. I love him with all his flaws, with all his fuckedupness, with his controlling demeanor. I love him not because who he is, but for what I am when I’m with him. I am whole, complete, happy and I am my best version because of him. We complete each other. Please understand that. If you

want a friend, I’m your friend, I’m your sister. That will never change and I hope that’s enough. If you want something more, know that I can never be that for you or for anyone else. It will always be Christian for me.” “I know, but…” he starts in a low murmur. “Before you say anything further, Jose, I want you think hard about what you wish to say to me, please. I wish to keep you as my friend, but anytime you think of me as something more, I will cease my contact with you despite the fact I love you and value our friendship, Jose. And don’t ever question my husband’s love or regard for me. It’s not your place to do so. He’s my man and mine alone!” she says, her voice a fervent whisper. “The minute you stop respecting my relationship with my husband, I will not stop him from whatever measures he wants to take, in order to know that you’re not infringing into his territory. As much as Christian Grey is mine, I’m also his. I’m his pregnant wife and not an available single girl. Show us the respect for our relationship so that we can reciprocate you in kind. Do you understand my reticence? You say that you value my friendship but your behavior says otherwise. You’re forcing my hand into cutting my friendship with you, however reluctantly, but it’s your own doing…” Jose opens his mouth to say something but Anastasia holds her finger. “This is your chance to tell me once that the friendship I offer you is enough, or you will silence it for good.” “Your friendship is enough, Ana. It has to be.” I have been proud of my wife before, but at this moment, Anastasia taking charge of her friend and setting him straight and putting my mind at ease makes me fall in love with her all over again. She’d make a damn good dom. Then again, I know she’s a switch. Fuck! I can’t wait till this evening! ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

“Mr. Grey, can I have a few minutes with you?” Ros asks after I get back to GEH. “I have 15 minutes till my next appointment. My office…” I say and open the door for her. She takes a seat in one of the chairs in front of my desk. I round the corner of my desk and sit. Crossing my left leg over my right knee, I ask, “What’s in your mind?” “First things first… Miss Julianne Durant left this note for you,” she says with distaste as she extends a sealed envelope. “I’m quite sure it’s not business related because she

would have given it to me to open. Although I made sure that she knew you are happily married to a spectacularly beautiful woman. I also want to congratulate you and Mrs. Grey for the pregnancy news,” she says. I arch my eyebrows immediately and my eyes narrow, pinning her in her seat quizzically. “Hold your britches boss! I’m not trying to nose into your private life. We have to keep up with you through the gossip blogs and magazines so we can effectively defend your name, sir, and of course against unwanted advances of others,” she says meaning Mademoiselle Durant. “But, I suspect you’re not here to babysit my personal affairs.” “Good heavens, no, boss! The French deal can be a lucrative one. I like Decoux. I think Durant can also be a sensible businesswoman though she’ll still full of her hierarchical, class shit. I was wondering…” she says clearing her throat, “can I have the honors of straightening her up, or do you wish to do it? I like the business end of it, but I don’t like the Europeans rubbing our noses in their blue bloods and their aristocratic lineage. It’s boiling the hell out of my red American blood. The only class distinction I care about is the one based on merit. She hasn’t shown me that yet. Decoux has it, and has good business sense. But Durant rubbed me the wrong way and since we are going to be in business with them in the long term, I prefer to be on equal footing.” “I don’t. I am above them. Equality is overrated. You can of course establish your equality, but I don’t wish to entertain anyone’s notion that I’m her equal, or his equal. I’m his better. They came to my company for business, and this is our turf. Act like it. Titles mean nothing to me. I look at the merit based accomplishments. That’s the only worthy criteria in business.” “Yes, sir,” she replies. “Well, then, I better get back to my work. I have used up my 15 minutes. Thank you, Christian,” she says with a wide smile on her face as she walks away, clicking her high heels on the marble floors. I open the envelope. “Four Seasons Seattle – Room 407. We can talk more about movies and Paris if you so desire.” I tear the note up in pieces, and toss it in the trash. I take my Blackberry out and dial. “Yes boss?”

“I expect your best performance in your particular lesson of class distinction. But, don’t establish equality. Only superiority.” “And do you have a response to her, uhm, message?” she says with no compunction. “I’m irrevocably taken. We only do business at GEH. Anything less than utmost professionalism becomes the grounds for refusal of their business proposal.” “I’d be absolutely delighted to pass the message,” Ros says and I can hear her grin on my Blackberry. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

“How are you Mrs. Grey?” I ask as Anastasia slides into the back of the SUV. A shy smile creeps up her lips. “I’m fine, Mr. Grey. Did you have a pleasant day?” she asks. “After having lunch with my wife, and getting certain promises from her, I think my day will only get better, Anastasia,” I murmur with a lascivious grin. I take her hand into mine then pull her into my arms. “I have missed you Mrs. Grey,” I whisper into her ear. “In the last three hours? You have got it bad for me Mr. Grey. But then again, it’s only fair.” “Why?” “Because I got it worse.” “How’s junior?” “Just fine,” she says with wonder in her eyes. “What?” “Nothing,” she says shaking her head. “Ana, it’s never 'nothing' with you. What?” “Can’t a girl be in awe of her beautiful, sensitive, sensual, hot husband? That’s all…” she responds.

“Is that all, Mrs. Grey?” “There’s more, but why spill it all at the same time.” “Buckle up Mrs. Grey,” I mock reprimand her. I want both of you to be safe.” “Yes, sir,” she responds making my cock twitch. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

Taylor drops us off in front of the elevators. Sawyer is driving the other SUV from SIP. “Are you hungry?” I ask in the elevator, the heat of my gaze captivating her. “Not for food.” “Good, me neither.” “Are you sure you want to go to the Playroom?” I ask. “Are you going back on your word?” she asks anxiously. “No. But, I want to make sure that this is what you want, not what you think I want.” “Mr. Grey, I was under the impression that the Playroom was also mine. You said so yourself. ‘If you say yes, Anastasia, this whole Playroom can be yours.’ “ She says in a good imitation of my voice. “What I’d love to do to your smart mouth,” I grin with wanton desire. “I know what I want.” “And what is that?” “I want you to teach me how to gain control of my body so I don’t unexpectedly turn the control of my emotions over to others like this morning. I want you to take over that control for the next several hours so I cleanse my mental palette. I want you to pleasure me, and ask me to pleasure you. Make me, make us lose ourselves in each other…” she says and making my eyes darken, libido shoot through the roof, and my cock strain in my pants, aching to be buried inside my wife. I push my wife to the elevator wall and seal my lips over hers.

When the elevator doors ding open, I lace my fingers with hers and pull her out of the elevator. Ignoring the household staff, I take my wife’s briefcase and drop it on the table in the foyer. Then pull her into our bedroom. Closing the door behind me with my foot, I turn to Anastasia. “How do you feel?” “Horny,” she responds drawing a half smile from me. “Physically.” I amend. “Quite well, Mr. Grey. All I want to do is to…” “I know what you want, and we cater to all desires and flavors, Mrs. Grey. I just want to make sure that my wife can take what I have to offer her. So, let me ask you again. How do you feel?” “I feel fine, Christian!” she says rolling her eyes. “Don’t roll your eyes, Mrs. Grey! I want you to go to the Playroom, take off everything but those delectable Louboutins and your panties. I have been dreaming those heels around my shoulders, my waist or my ass all day.” Her mouth drops open. “Run along now, and sit as I have shown you by the door,” I say as I swat her behind hard. She yelps. “Ow!” “What?” “Yes, sir!” she responds as she hurries to the Playroom.

I quickly divest myself of my suit, tie, shirt, boxers, shoes and socks. I bring out my washed out, ripped jeans and put them on. Leaving the top button open, I make my way to the kitchen. Filling a glass with ice, I take a bottle of chilled Sancerre and make my way to the Playroom. When I enter, I find Anastasia sitting by the door, naked except for her panties and her high heels. Her head is down, and her hands are splayed on her knees. Wordlessly I make my way to the chest. Put the glass of ice and the bottle of Sancerre. I carefully choose the toys I want to utilize for this scene. Then I slowly make my way to the stereo.

When the music starts playing, Anastasia’s head snaps up and her gaze meets mine when Michael Bublé and Laura Pausini start singing “You'll never find another love like mine,” a reminiscence of our honeymoon reminding her that no one can love her as much as I can. Michael Bublé and Laura Pausini - You'll Never Find

I lift her up off the floor, and wrapping her hair around my wrist, I kiss her hard, sucking on her lower lip, then thrusting my tongue into her mouth stroking her warm velvety mouth. When I pull back we’re both breathless. “Turn around,” I order. “Yes, sir,” she responds breathless. I braid her hair as she silently extends the tie to secure the end of the braid.

“Anastasia, we are here because you decided to secede the control of your body and mind to me this afternoon. But, you’re my wife. So, anytime it’s too much, I just want you to say, ‘stop’ and I will. No safe words, okay?” “Yes, sir,” she responds in a breathy voice. “Good girl. I will teach you how to gain control of your body and eventually your mind.” “Thank you, sir.” “What do you want Anastasia?” “You decide, sir. I…” she says hesitantly. “I want to give the control over to you this evening.” “Are you sure? Tell me to stop when it gets too intense, and I will.” “Yes, sir,” she responds in a breathy anticipation. I bring out the leather cuffs which are soft but good restraining devices. Seeing the spreader bar, her eyes widen with excitement and anticipation.

“Come,” I say and take her by the hand. “Lean face down this table.” She obeys immediately. I spread her legs only a foot apart with my feet. I rub her beautiful buttocks and then spank her hard once. She moans in response.

“Hush now. First part of control is to expect the unexpected.” I slide her lacy panties down, slowly. My hands grazing over her toned thighs and legs, skating over her soft, flawless skin. They pool around her ankles. Lifting her feet one at a time, I divest her panties and toss them onto the leather chair. Pouring some massage oil into my palm, I carefully spread it between both hands. Grasping Anastasia’s ankles, I slowly glide up to her knees. I knead her legs sensually behind her knees. She gives out a barely restrained moan.

“Control, baby. I need you to control your urges. Delayed gratification not only teaches you,” I say as my fingers rise up on the column of her legs reaching the apex of her thighs, I dip a finger into her glistening, pink sex, “but also,” I add, “provides the maximum intensity,” I say as I spread her legs wide with my legs forcing them to stay apart as I dip a second and a third finger into her folds, gently circling, drawing out her pleasure, coating my fingers in her cream, “as well as maximum pleasure.”

I withdraw my fingers out of her, and put my head over her sex inhaling her scent deep. I pull her buttocks up and place my left hand right over her pubic bone presenting her sex from behind to my tongue ready to indulge in her sweet taste. I press her clitoris with the pad of my thumb while my tongue invades and conquers her sex, dipping and withdrawing several times. Each time she builds up ready to orgasm, I pull my tongue back and keep her pleasure at bay. “Control,

baby…”

“Please, Christian,” she begs. “All in good time. Anticipate, wait, hold, and enjoy the buildup,” I murmur between each lick that pleasures her. Just as she reaches her peak, I pull her up in standing position. “Now, stand with your back to my front,” I order. She obeys immediately. I blindfold her slowly caressing her cheeks, necks, earlobes as I kiss, nip and suck my way down to her throat.

“I want you to put your hands around my neck,” I whisper. She obeys. Her breasts more curvaceous than ever with her pregnancy lift into my palms nicely. I run my newly oiled hands down her throat, over her breasts, between the mounds of her breast, to her belly, and over to her pubic bone and slowly make my way up again. She groans, and writhes beneath my touch.

“Control requires, absorbing the sensation, and finding that place in your mind where the intensity of the act will reach you only when you allow it,” I whisper. The soulful sound of a woman shouts wordless tunes singing “the Great Gig in the Sky”.

Great Gig in the Sky - Pink Floyd

“Feel my hands, but find that place in your mind, lock yourself in, and make me work to get to you. My reward is working hard to reach your pleasure points, not just here,” I

murmur tugging both her nipples, rolling them between my thumbs and forefingers, eliciting another pleasured groan, and arching of her back into my palms.

“Or here,” I whisper lasciviously sucking her neck while my fingers work their magic inside her sex. “I want to be in here,” I whisper kissing her tilted temple, “and here,” I slide my hand up between her breasts. “I want you to surrender to me in such a way that you won’t be able to come without me telling you so. You need to submit that the control of your pleasure over to me.” “Yes… aahhh…” she moans, “sir,” she adds. My cock is straining against my soft jeans, ready to pleasure her. But this is to both of our benefit. My wife wants to learn to control herself as well as to surrender control this instance. I want to achieve just that. I slowly walk her to the wooden cross with her arms around my neck and my cock straining against her buttocks. “I will cuff your arms on the cross now Anastasia, but I will restrain your legs with the spreader bar,” I inform her. “But after that, I will give you no warning. Everything will be unexpected. You will need to hold your pleasure until I tell you to come, and not without me. Do you understand?” I ask. She nods.

“I need a verbal confirmation Anastasia,” I order. “Yes, sir,” she responds in a breathy voice. “And if it’s too intense?” I ask. “I’ll tell you to stop, sir,” she responds. “Good girl.” I bring the glass with ice, and take one between my fingers. I slowly run it over one nipple which immediately perks up, drawing a stifled moan from Anastasia. I run the ice around her areola, and then accept her nipple into the warmth of my mouth creating a contrasting sensation. I suck her nipple deep and hard while I run the ice in the same direction as my tongue fellating the other nipple causing it perk up and strain for the attention of my mouth. Anastasia pulls herself against the restrains, but she’s unable to move an inch. Slowly, I move onto the other nipple and give the same attention I have paid to her right nipple. Anastasia’ back arches as she trembles with anticipation and intense desire. I then take the ice between my teeth and run it up and down her torso. As I reach her waxed sex, the ice makes her shiver and make her beg.

“I need your cock! Please Christian! Inside me!” I take the ice into my fingers and run it over her nipples again.

“Control baby, find the place in your mind, and make me work to unlock the door to your mind.” She takes a deep, trembling breath. Finally I run the ice over her lips making her lick her lips and lick the ice chip. I lean down and kiss her hard, leaving her lips sore and wanton. I take her favorite riding crop and run it over her breasts, sides, and finally dip it into her sex. She quivers in response. “Pleasure and pain… not much different than one another,” I murmur sliding the riding crop out of her sex now shining with her cream. “Ssssuck,” I order and she obeys immediately.

“Enough,” I say pulling the riding crop out of her eager mouth. I let it slide down her chin, neck, between the valley of her breasts, around her nipples, sides, and caressing her belly, making her hitch her breath. Then finally I lift the riding crop and start raining strikes against her sex, thighs, nipples, and buttocks, but never in succession, and unexpectedly without a pattern so she understand the concept of control. Pink Floyd’s song starts over again as Anastasia reaches her peak. "Control the urge Ana!" I command as I finally start raining small but effective flicks over her clitoris. “Christian, I can’t hold!” “Yes, you can!” “I can’t! I’m close!” “Yes, you can! Yes, you can! Yes, you can! Hold it baby, until I tell you to come! Only when I tell you to come!” Her nipples pucker, and her face squeezes as if she’s concentrating somewhere else in her mind. When I rain the fifteenth strike over her sex, “Come for me now!” I order and with a shattered breath, I feel the release roll out of her and spread to her entire body. I quickly untie her hands, and carry my wife onto the bed. I put her face down on the bed, and quickly divest of my jeans. I lift Anastasia’s buttocks up in the air, and slap it twice, and strike over her sex once. Then I drive into her sex with one hard thrust, holding myself deep inside her, inside my wife where I wanted to be all day long. Finally I ease out of her all the way to the tip slowly, making her feel every steely inch of me, then plunge into her again. Pull back out all the way and just insert the tip of my cock, coating it with her slick cream. Then finally I start thrusting in and out in rapid, animalistic succession. She supports herself on her elbows as I drive into her. “Please, Christian… sir! I’m close!” “No! not yet! Control it. Hold it, don't let it take over you!” She cries out with her body barely holding in the pleasure that is waiting at the precipice. Her sex is swollen, her opening is inviting, tight like a fisted glove. I move my cock deeper, drawing slickness from her core and rubbing it over her aching clit. She wants to close her legs, but the spreader bar is preventing her and letting her feel all the pleasure.

I push deeper, and lifting her buttocks up I find the secret location hiding her core pleasure. Angulating my hips, the tip of my cock strokes over the spot achingly slow. “Christian!” she begs. “Say my name again!” “Christian! Christian! Christian! Christian Grey!” “When. Do. You. Come?” I hiss through gritted teeth with each thrust. “When you let me, sir!” she cries out. “Please…” she begs. “Come for me now baby!” I shout, and she screams her orgasm as the soulful voice in the song also screams her ecstasy. I come loudly, squirting my pleasure into her, filling her, declaring my love and my brand of ownership of my wife, I feel complete, and completely replete. When we finally come back to our senses, I unbuckle the spreader bar from her legs, and rub her ankles. “How was that for control?” “Mind-blowing and thoroughly educational,” she murmurs before she falls asleep in my arms.

Love knows no limit to its endurance, no end to its trust, no fading of its hope; it can outlast anything. Love still stands when all else has fallen.

CHAPTER XVI Nightmares Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood here wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Anastasia?" This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Anastasia!"-Merely this, and nothing more...

Edgar Allan Poe

How can a man fall in love with his wife all over again? This creature sleeping in my arms is the most precious person that exists for me. She wants to learn to take control. I knew she had untapped skills which I long wanted to explore, and learning control gives greater access to our secret abilities. Darker abilities… I lightly kiss her shifting form in my embrace. She snuggles up to my chest and perfectly fits into the crook of my arm. Her arm reaches around my torso seeking her own connection. “Christian…” she murmurs. I open my mouth to respond, but note that her eyes are still closed, deep in slumber. She’s sleeping. It makes me happy to no end that she is still thinking of me even in her sleep. I slide off the bed, put my jeans on, with my chest still bare, swoop my wife up wrapped in the red sheets, and carry her out to our bedroom. I don’t like sleeping in the playroom. Though I don’t think Anastasia minds sleeping in it; I still prefer her in my bed. She’s no longer intimidated about the playroom which makes me immensely happy. The way she worked her way back to the Playroom makes me think she find pleasure and comfort in it after all. I unlock the door with one hand while supporting my wife’s body in my arms. I open the door and exit the room with my wife in my possession. My exhausted girl buries her head deeper into my chest. I come down the stairs and walk the stretch of the Great Room. Mrs. Jones is busy cooking in the kitchen. My feet only makes soft padding footfalls, and not loud noises. But, with her keen hearing, Mrs. Jones looks up from her task of cutting vegetables and cooking. “Are you ready…” Mrs. Jones starts as she looks up from her task. “…for dinner?” her voice falls to a chagrined manner. I just shake my head in response and mouth “not yet.” Mrs. Jones turns crimson, and lowers her head to her task as she nods her agreement to me. I walk into our bedroom, and close the door with the heel of my foot. I lay Anastasia on the bed under the covers and make sure she doesn’t get cold. She looks exhausted. Pregnancy, today’s event’s, the Playroom… No wonder why she’s sleeping the sleep of death. The thought makes me wince. Her hair is fanned on her pillow. I slowly lie on the covers. Extending my hand to her hair gently, I rub it slowly pushing it away from her face. A deep sigh escapes her lips. The vibration of my Blackberry sitting on the side table both startles me and makes me frown. Who would be calling? I lean in and look at the name. It’s Welch. I sigh. I slowly lower my legs and stand upright and take the Blackberry.

Find him, Bind him, Tie him to a pole and break his fingers to splinters. Drag him to a hole until he wakes up, Naked, clawing to the ceiling of his grave. The mariner’s Revenge “Grey,” I answer curtly. I open the drawer and find a white t-shirt to pull over. “Welch’s here,” here greets me. “What’s up?” I ask as I slowly pad my way out of the bedroom, gently closing the door behind me. “I have uncovered the how the news got leaked.” “How?” I ask as I head towards my study. “They heard it from the horse’s mouth. From Mrs. Grey,” he says. I halt in my tracks. “Come again?” I ask.

“I should rephrase that statement. The paparazzi’s source eavesdropped on a private conversation Mrs. Grey was having. The source however is credible. Clearly, Mrs. Grey wasn’t announcing her pregnancy to whoever was listening in. She was with Ms. Kavanagh last week at her wedding planner’s. Ms. Kavanagh asked Mrs. Grey if she

was absolutely sure of the due date of her baby to which Mrs. Grey replied that her doctor the two of you that her baby was due either on May 11th or the 12th. Then Miss Kavanagh said to her that the Country Club they were reserving was available a week and a half before, and a week after her baby was due. They were holding both dates to get a clear due date from Mrs. Grey. Miss Kavanagh was asking Mrs. Grey if they should do the wedding before the baby was due because her Maid of Honor dress would be made to fit her pregnancy size, and it would be hard to do the adjustments in that short of a time frame or whether Mrs. Grey was up to the task so shortly after the baby is born…” he says. So, Kavanagh was careless enough to discuss Anastasia’s unannounced pregnancy in front of complete strangers. “Who was the person that spilled the beans to the paparazzi?” I ask gritting my teeth as I walk into my study. And how would they know that it was worth money or mean anything to someone? “He wouldn’t reveal the name, sir. It could have been anyone who was working that day. But then again, there couldn’t have been a lot of people. These planners have a few assistants, and Miss Kavanagh would be a high profile client for her, so most of the employees would have been informed about confidentiality of the clients’ conversations unless it’s someone who is newly hired and shrewd. But even then, it would have been made abundantly clear that these clients care about their privacy immensely,” I sink into my chair, and start keep tapping my fingers on my table. “So, the leak was accidental?” “I couldn’t easily dismiss it as an accidental overhearing, Mr. Grey. Clearly someone listened in on a private conversation that went on between Mrs. Grey and Miss Kavanagh. That’s why the information came out of the blue. The person who leaked it wasn’t known to the paparazzi who usually have someone planted in these expensive venues where rich and famous shop, and of course a wedding planner such as the one Miss Kavanagh’s family chose only caters to a certain high level income bracket. However, the individual who called the paparazzi knew the ropes, knew exactly whom to call even though he or she acted naïve. The reporter however didn’t want to reveal his source. Because, if he reveals it, the subsequent stories may not come his way from other willing sources. However, for a few thousand dollars, he revealed the location which gives us a starting point.” “So, you have no clue who that was?”

“I have to go and interview the wedding planner tomorrow. By the time I have uncovered the first part, she was gone to meet one of her clients and wasn’t in her office.” “Just out of curiosity…. Why wouldn’t the paparazzi part with the source’s name? Clearly, he could have leveraged it with something else he wanted from you in return,” I query. “The information he would get from us would be one piece of information and finite in lieu of the name he would be releasing. Disclosing the name of the source can be notorious among his peers and clearly it would be very bad for his line of work. On the other hand, I got the feeling that he either expects more from that source either a lead to another story, or that he’s certain that he will get more information about Mrs. Grey, perhaps something more valuable.” The rage I feel is instantaneous, and murderous. I find myself holding the edge of my desk so hard, my knuckles turn white. This is my wife, and someone out there is willing to trade information about without having any regard for her safety. “What does that mean? None of the conversations are private in that place?” I hiss. I have to warn my brother to put a muzzle on his fiancée if he has to. Her loose mouth is going to hurt my wife! Marrying a Grey family member requires family loyalty, and protecting the interest of the members this family comes first; we protect one another, not undermine one another willingly or otherwise. Kavanagh’s behavior is discombobulating. We would never put her in such jeopardy so carelessly. She is a journalist. She should know how media works. A confirmed bachelor billionaire marrying and getting his wife pregnant on their honeymoon is the wet dream of a gossip magazine. Clearly the careless remarks of Kavanagh discussing Ana’s her due date has simply thrusted my wife against her will or her wishes into the center of the tabloid universe which clearly terrified her. Welch’s husky voice brings me back here and now. “I’m quite sure that they go to great lengths to keep their client’s privacy a priority. Otherwise they could have never attained the level of respect from the upper crust clients they’re attracting. That’s what I’m counting on to ensure the owner’s cooperation in uncovering the perpetrator. A displeased Grey family would certainly be a blow to their credibility as a business that caters those who requires utmost confidentiality and professionalism.” I may be perceived as a rich prick who demands confidentiality, but then again, hardly anyone want their lives dissected, analyzed and criticized on the national arena. I will do everything to keep my wife away from such exposure and I will punish anyone who wishes her harm.

“Here’s my concern: If you are so confident that this couldn’t be a loose mouth employee, then there must be an underlying threat you’re seeing which you have not explained to me yet.” “I can’t jump into conclusions without solid evidence Mr. Grey. I have to first eliminate the apparent suspects, namely the employees who were working on the day Mrs. Grey was present. I want to get their names, and interview them personally. I will also see if they had any delivery man, repairman, or other possible patrons who were there at the time. Though I have spoken to Sawyer who secured the area. He said he kept everyone at the allocated distance from Mrs. Grey. As I eliminate those possibilities, I have to explore the darker aspects, other possible malicious intent. Miss Kavanagh and her mother settled on this particular wedding planner about a month ago. You and Mrs. Grey are unapproachable for others. But, Miss Kavanagh is not as unapproachable. She has not accepted our offers of providing security for her...” says Welch putting it mildly. I remember the response Welch relayed back: ‘Keep your leash on somebody else! I’m not marrying you; I’m certainly not marrying your security detail! Keep them away from me! If I see them around me without my permission you can be sure that I will call the cops on them for stalking! I’m not Ana.’ And that just about sums it. She’s not Ana, but in a way, her carelessness is putting my wife in danger. “…But it makes Miss Kavanagh an easy target to tail should someone wanted to get to Mrs. Grey. They’re best friends, and with Miss Kavanagh’s wedding preparations where Mrs. Grey is partaking, it’s possible some of your adversaries to explore those options to find vulnerabilities. You’re only as strongly protected as your weakest link. And, there you have your weakest link, sir.” I run my hand through my hair in exasperation. “I can’t make my brother’s fiancée to agree to have security. I have had a hard enough time with my own sister. Even she eluded me,” I say angrily, remembering how she got kidnapped to bait Anastasia. “Find out who was responsible, and determine how to plug that security hole. I want to fuck-ups, no dangers directed to my family, especially towards my wife. Understand?” It’s not a question. It’s an order. “Perfectly, sir.” After hanging up, I hold the bridge of my nose to ward off an oncoming headache. Katherine Kavanagh and Jose Rodriguez are the two thorns on my side. Ana, I think

proudly, has taken care of him. The ball crusher however has to be reasoned with. She’s not only my brother’s fiancée, but she is also my wife’s best friend. I can’t completely eliminate her from our lives, or forbid Ana to see her. I’d like to, but I can’t. She doesn’t have many friends and the ones she has are pains in my ass. I gotta see Flynn. I still haven’t completely settled the fears of becoming a father. Maybe tonight if Ana’s is well, maybe tomorrow. My door opens slowly and I look up with anger. Seeing Anastasia, my gaze softens. “Hi,” she says in a velvety voice. “Why are you holed up here?” My gaze thaws as I look at my wife. She’s still same girl I married, but her features are now more defined, shapely, her body is well toned, and there’s something else about her. Pregnancy is making her more curvaceous, her breasts fuller, firmer, her hips rounder, and her nipples are getting deliciously longer; in fact she is slowly getting a womanly roundness to her belly right above her pubic bone. Anastasia is wearing her low cut shorts and tank tops, baring her long legs, watering my mouth. Her chestnut hair is down to her waist, and shiny, begging me to run my hands through them. My wife looks at me with her blue eyes, arresting me in my place. She licks her lips as if she’s parched for water, and then captures her lower lip between her teeth, thoughtfully punishing it. She walks towards me slowly. Rounding the table, she stands before me. My gaze remains on her with full intensity, unblinking. I turn my chair to accommodate my wife. She climbs up on my lap, and curls into me, seeking refuge as if something scared her. My embrace instantly closes on her, and I hug her tighter into my chest.

“What is it?” I ask softly, inquisitively as I try to hide my anxiety. She shakes her head. “Anaaa!” I reprimand without raising my voice. “Just had a bad dream, that’s all.” I lift her face up with my index finger, searching for any evidence that there’s more to what she’s stating. “You promised to be open with me.” I say trying not to accuse her. “I was just sleeping Christian. What else could have happened? It must have been the days’ events came crashing down on me,” she whispers. Then her voice goes lower if it was even possible. I strain to hear her. “I saw that our baby was hurt, in the commotion of a large crowd. All I was seeing was camera flashes everywhere. I couldn’t look. I couldn’t see. And the baby was there for one minute, gone the next. I could hear the baby’s cries. Hurt cries…” she shudders. “My heart broke. It was instinctive. I tried to shove people aside, and so did Sawyer. But, all I could see was that the crowd was growing and somehow pushing you and Taylor away. No matter how hard we tried to push them away to reach one another, it just got impossible. And the Blip was screaming. We both tried to find him. Just couldn’t… Then I lost it. I was like a mad woman. I don’t know how to do crowd control. I’m frightened, Christian. A lot.” She states simply with shaky voice. I dig my nose into her hair, inhaling her deeply. “I won’t let that happen. I will NEVER let that happen!” I emphasize. “Crowds will not part us. I will protect both of you. And Ana… thank you, baby,” I whisper. She lifts her head up, tilting it back, she looks at me confused. “For what?” she asks. “For being honest with me. Open. You opened up, told me about your dream, let me into your nightmare so I can make it go away. I’m grateful, baby.” A semblance of a smile reaches, and tugs the corners of her mouth. “Would you like to go see Flynn with me this evening?” “This evening? I didn’t know you had an appointment with Flynn.” “I don’t. Yet. But, I pay him a small fortune to be available when I need him to be. You’re shaken up, and it’s giving you nightmares. I want to make this go away and I will but I need to have you get help first.” She sighs.

“Okay.” “I’ll call and let Flynn know, and then we’ll eat dinner before we go.” Her stomach growls as if in agreement. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

John Flynn is surprised to hear that both of us are coming. I can hear the slight tinge of excitement in his voice. Even if he wasn’t available tonight, he is making sure that he can come and see us both in his office. Even Flynn isn’t immune to Anastasia’s charms. Mrs. Jones has fixed chicken marsala, mashed potatoes, and spring mix salad. I pour myself white wine, and Ana eyes it with yearning. “Sparkling water, juice, or ginger ale Mrs. Grey?” I ask. “Cranberry juice and ginger ale, please,” she says. “Any particular reason for the mix? Is it craving?” “Yes, but not you’re thinking. I’m going to close my eyes and pretend that it’s cranberry juice and vodka.” “Cosmo? Hmmm…” I murmur. “Georgia,” I say as my gaze darkens with wanton desire. “Christian!” she chastises me in a low voice her eyes darting back and forth to Mrs. Jones who is putting away dishes and studiously ignoring us. After she puts the last container, she quietly walks away from the kitchen. “Well?” I ask. I’m a man with a healthy sexual appetite and I’m lusting after my wife especially when she’s referring to a passionate reunion we’ve had. “I want you, but not right now.” “Why not now?” I ask, visibly tensing with her denial. Was I too harsh on her earlier? “I bet I can change your mind,” I coax her in a husky tone. “Yes, you can, Mr. Grey. Easily. But are you forgetting that we are going to see Flynn?”

“Flynn can wait,” I say leaning into her ear whispering. My eyes are wide, focused on her face. I watch her eyes soften and her lips slowly part. Her tongue slowly caresses over her top lip. She sets an intense and immediate fire within me which takes over my body, spreading like wild fire, coursing through my veins. My cock is throbbing for her, ready to steal my wits. “I want to see Flynn. I might get better focused… after we see him.” “I bet I can get your mind off of whatever’s bothering you,” I murmur. She sighs; pursing her lips, then bites her lower lip. “When you do that…” I say as I slowly tug her chin to free her lower lip, then lean and kiss it. Taking it into the captivity of my teeth, I suck and then slightly bite it. Finally I lick her lip to take the sting away. “…being inside you is all I can think about, baby,” I murmur into her mouth, making her gasp. Her hands slowly travel up into my hair. Her fingers thread among the clumps of my hair, pulling me into her. I moan a deep guttural sound. “Bed!” she moans finally giving in and I swallow the sound of her voice with my kisses grinning. Finally pulling back, I kiss her nose. “Have you forgotten that we have an appointment with Dr. Flynn? Come, let’s go,” I say standing up, extending my hand. She blinks, confused. “What the hell?” she asks. “Did you not just turn me on full blast? Now you’re leaving me hot and bothered!” I hide a smile. “I’ll service you when we get back baby. Think how good it will be. Anticipation, Ana, is the key to seduction,” I murmur without taking my gaze off her. I lean down and inhale her scent deeply once again. She groans. “Why on earth are you torturing us?” she complains. “Lesson number two, baby: Managing your urges. Can you focus on something entirely different while you have an overwhelming, base, elemental desire to do something else?” I pull her to her feet with enough force to keep her flush with my body. “Hunger…” I whisper as I kiss her nose. “Thirst…” I kiss the left corner of her lips. “Lusssst…” This time my voice is low, deep, passionate, and hungry for her. I kiss the right corner of her lip. “Unbearable urge to fuck…” A sharp exhale and a desperate

whimper escape her lips. Anastasia and I are very in tune of each other. She responds to my body, the tone of my voice, the way I look at her instantly. “I thought you said we’re going to Dr. Flynn’s,” she says swallowing. One side of my lips curls up in semblance of a smile. I catch her buttocks and pull her into my ever growing erection. I lock her hands behind her back, and rub my erection through the fabric of our clothes. She tilts her head back, her hair touching the arm I’m using to immobilize her hands. A groan of pure lust reverberates her throat as I lean down and nip and lick her exposed throat. I pull her back up and tug her behind me. “Let’s change and go see the good doctor,” I say with the intimate timbre of my voice, leaving my wife hot as if she’s on fire. “Christian, it’s not fair!” she complains as we reach our bedroom door. “What isn’t fair Mrs. Grey?” I ask innocently. “You know what! You’re leaving me hot and bothered! And don’t act so innocent!” she says frowning. I close the door behind us and tug her into our closet. “Mrs. Grey, you’re wounding my ego. I’m merely trying to help you learn control. The lessons aren’t over yet. You want to master the skills, don’t you, baby?” I ask challenging her. “Yeees!” she says grunting. This time I grin in her response. “I won’t be able to focus, Mr. Grey!” “That’s the point. I want you to learn to compartmentalize each and every feeling. Redirect your urges, and focus on something else…” “It’s only going to get worse!” “Yes, but you will be able to hold off. That’s what being provoked feels like. If you give the expected reaction, they’ll know how to goad you.” “It’s hard with you, Christian!” she complains. I turn to her unexpectedly, picking her off the floor; I press her back to the wall. She immediately wraps her legs around my torso, and her arms snake around my neck. My cock is aching for her. This is punishing for me as well, but I mean to collect big at the end of the night. My mouth seals over hers with ferocious hunger. We’re all tongue and lips. Every angulation and stroke of

my hip pushes into her. She softens and opens her legs up wider. Her arms fall behind me, scratching and clawing; trying to pull me into her, her body is screaming at me to crawl inside her. She’s primed and ready to go. When I finally let her down, she’s panting.

“Christian, were you just teasing me?” she asks. “No, baby,” I answer calmly, though I am barely restraining my urges. “You don’t want me then?” Her eyes worried, horrified even. I take her hand and place it on my straining erection. “Does this feel like I don’t want you, Mrs. Grey?” She visibly swallows, hard. “N..n..no..” she stutters. “Good, because, I do! We have an appointment to get to. I just want you to be focused on that.” She thinks about it for a minute. “It’s a hard lesson, Christian,” she says pursing her lips. “Control, baby. Control!” “And if I combust?” “Oh, I got a trick or two to put your fire out,” I smile.

***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

We’re in the back of the SUV. I don’t let go of Anastasia’s hand. “Ana, when you went to Kate’s wedding planner last week, who else was there with you?” I ask. She looks at me quizzically. “Kate, her mom and Mia. Why?” “Anyone else? Did she have any of the bride maids with her at any time?” Ana narrows her eyes and searches my face. There’s more than curiosity. There’s a tinge of jealousy as well. The kind of jealousy I would feel if my wife’s name was mentioned in the same sentence with another man’s name. This revelation makes me happy of course, but I hide it. “Why the curiosity in Kate’s bride maids?” she asks without giving an answer. “Because Welch discovered that the paparazzi leak that hounded you this morning came from someone who was present with you or someone who was there at the wedding planner’s when Kate was discussing your due date coinciding with her wedding. What else did you two talk about?” “Christian, how did you know what we talked about? Are you having Sawyer eavesdrop on me?” she asks. Her eyes drift to the back of Sawyer’s head whose ears flush pink. “Jesus, no! I told you, it was Welch who found out. Sawyer’s job is your protection. Don’t reprimand him for doing his job. He’s supposed to do what he’s assigned to do. There are two of you now, and I thought you would think the safety of our Blip above Kavanagh’s…” she glares at me, “Kate’s,” I correct myself, “wedding plans. It isn’t because her wedding is unimportant, baby. But somehow you end up being on the end that gets harmed.” She sighs. “Kate told me that she refused the security measures you offered her. She said she doesn’t want to be like me, tailed and followed by security to have only the illusion of privacy.” “That’s fine, but she has to be careful to not to blurt out our private information. Then we’ll end up keeping her out of the loop.”

“Christian, this wouldn’t have been a big deal if I was Jose’s or Ethan’s wife,” she says. I growl. “Jose or Ethan?” I bellow. Is she goading me? “You know what I mean,” she corrects herself. “No, Anastasia! I don’t know what you mean. Explain to me how Jose or Ethan got into the conversation as the hypothetical fathers of MY child in you!” I hiss in a dangerously low voice. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it that way. It came to my mind first because that’s what Kate had said.” The ball crusher makes her way into our relationship again! “Anastasia,” I say lacing our fingers. “Katherine Kavanagh doesn’t have to deal with the consequences of what happens to you. Honestly, I’m disappointed in her that, she as your best friend who was devastated about you when you were in the hospital after Hyde’s attack would have a little more consideration. Especially when that said friend is pregnant!” I say with fervor. “But the consequences of your actions and the actions of your friends who maybe careless about our privacy ends up falling on you – on all three of us! Kate cannot possibly worry about you the way I do… Clearly… Because I’m the one who is in love with you! It’s easy for Kate or anyone else to have opinions about my life, yours, and ours, but they’re not me, they’re not you, and they’re not us! They don’t live our lives. I am worth a lot of money. When people want a piece of that, they will not stop at any means to harm you, or get their hands on you. There are people who would inflict harm on your and our child for a pack of cigarettes without any second thoughts! It’s that simple. You become a means to an end. I don’t want you or MY wife and child to pay the consequences of those actions. I thought we agreed on that.” “Yes, we did. It’s just hard for me to comprehend that even an innocent conversation of my due date would bring some harm. That’s what bothers me! It’s as if I can’t have girl time with my best friend, or enjoy what others of my age are enjoying, even simply being pregnant.” “Baby, I thought being Christian Grey’s wife has countless benefits,” I say with a lascivious smile, softly caressing her face with the back of my hand. She leans into my touch, her eyes closed. “We just have to use a little more discretion. Now, tell me, who else was there, Anastasia?” She rolls her eyes.

“The wedding planner, two of her assistants, Mrs. Kavanagh and Mia. Sawyer waited at the door to give us privacy. Oh, and I briefly saw a very good looking man in his early 30s. He was tall, well built, maybe in the military, but he didn’t have the buzz cut Taylor or Sawyer had. The wedding planner didn’t introduce us, but he might have been her boyfriend by the way he held her behind the wall.” I grit my teeth in the amount of description she gives me of this man. If she paid this much attention to his appearance in the brief time she’s seen him not to mention when she was with the loudmouth Kavanagh… Jealousy rises in me again. “I’m not sure if I like it that you paid so much attention to another man, Mrs. Grey. And how would you know he was in the armed services if he didn’t have the telltale signs of the buzz cut?” “Because I’m the daughter of an ex-army man who has been to combat. It’s the way they walk, look at you, or scan a place they enter as if they’re about to be ambushed. But he didn’t stay long. He just nodded at us, and then he was busy fondling the wedding planned until she happily shooed him away.” “Did he leave the building?” I purr. “Your voice is so hot, you can melt wax, husband,” she says pursing her lips, her eyes eat me up as if I am the desert, a banquet for a starving woman, then sighs. My hand settles on her knee intimately, and then I squeeze it, slightly moving it up to her thigh. Her gaze follows the movement of my hand hungrily. She swallows. Without lifting her gaze up she says, “He left, but I couldn’t tell you whether he left the building, or her showroom.” Taylor turns into Flynn’s office’s parking lot and parks. Both Sawyer and Taylor jumps off the SUV and open the doors for us. I get off the car immediately and rounding behind the car I reach Anastasia, holding her hand. Lacing our fingers, I walk towards Flynn’s office door. A cool breeze courses over us, making Ana shiver. I pull her to my side. John Flynn opens the door to greet us with a warm smile. “Anastasia, how wonderful to see you! I hear congratulations are in order,” he says extending his hand. Anastasia takes the proffered hand with a genuine smile of her own. “Hi Christian,” he says and shakes my hand. “Taylor, Sawyer,” he says nodding at them. “Dr. Flynn,” they both reply in unison.

“Shall we?” he says pointing in the direction of his warm, masculine furnished office. Ana and I sit in the dark leather sofa that could accommodate both of us. I put my right ankle on my left knee. My hand reaches to Anastasia’s and I hold her hand over my lap. Anastasia leans into me. Dr. Flynn watches us and notes how we settle on the sofa, fitting each other, reaching into one another. Ana smiles up at me. “I have not seen you in several weeks Christian. What would you like to talk about today?” “Ana hasn’t been feeling well. I was reluctant to leave her in that state,” I say shrugging. John tilts his head to side. His face remains neutral, but his eyes twinkle, pleased. “Are you getting used to the idea of becoming a parent?” I shrug noncommittal. “What’s not to get used to?” Anastasia looks at me. “It’s my baby.” “Yes, it is Ana’s and your baby, but that’s not the question I asked. Are you getting used to the idea of becoming a parent?” I take a deep breath. Anastasia’s pure attention and listening to me. “I am getting used to the idea, in fact I’m becoming possessive of the baby. But…” I pause. Two pairs of eyes train on me. “But what?” Ana asks before the doctor. “But, sometimes, when I’m working by myself in the middle of the night, I get this sudden fear that I would be a shitty father,” I say to Flynn. Anastasia tries to move her hand out of mine. I hold it tighter. I turn my gaze with its full dark intensity onto her. “When I feel that way, I come to bed and find you, find my reason for being, then the fear dissipates. You anchor me, Ana.” “I get angry if anyone refers to our baby even in the hypothetical belonging to someone else,” I say reminding Anastasia Kate’s words. “I become extremely possessive. It’s my baby. But it still doesn’t change the possibility that I might have some genetic defect like the crack whore and fuck this child’s future up by being as bad a parent.” “Did you talk to Anastasia about your fears?” “We talked. Some…” I lean back, exhale loudly and look at the ceiling. “The crack whore, Ella… that was her name, she was a bad mother. Poor, lacking, unqualified

doesn’t even describe her incompetence. I know that some people just lack the ability…” I turn to Ana then. “You said that she had her own problems to deal with. I get that. I really do! But, then I read stories of women, mothers in Darfur or parts of Africa where I send food. Despite all the hardship, days without food, those mothers try to work miracles to care for their children, because I believe there’s an inborn ability, a maternal, a parental gene. What if Ella lacked that, and she passed that onto me? What if I disappoint you?” I whisper, my gaze begging her to understand. “Sometimes I’m scared shitless about it. What if when you find that out, you leave me? You’ll make a perfect mother. I’m not perfect, unfit. I have nightmares about that…” I say my voice low. Ana’s lips part, her gaze softens, and she wants to say something, but she’s doing the talking with her eyes. There’s trust in them. Love, but not pity. I couldn’t do pity. “Christian, I too have thought a lot about this, but I think I can give you a plausible answer. Neither one of us knows your birth mother’s personally to assume that she lacked the maternal gene. She was an addict which takes the cognitive reasoning a person could have. Drugs are hard habits to break. It may have been a tool her pimps have employed to keep her under their control. Yet, despite all the hardship, she didn’t abandon you; she kept you,” Dr. Flynn explains. “But she did, John! When the going got though, she checked out! Left me with her damned dead body for four fucking days!” “Let us look at it from another point of view if you please. What would have happened had she survived? What would have happened had she given you to her able bodied parents, sibling or other relatives if she had any? Chances are they may have disowned her, or they may have been gone, she may have been ashamed for the point in life she came to be. We don’t know that. We can only speculate. She may have assumed that the kind of life she would end up leading you would be the kind of life she has led. Even if she was an attentive mother, as attentive as a single working mother in her profession could be, she’d still not be able to give you all you needed. Perhaps, the only way she thought she could thrust you out of the life she was leading was by exiting her own. Parents are known to do the ultimate sacrifice for their children.” I shakes my head, and won’t meet Ana’s or Flynn’s eyes. “ As a young child, I had only glimpses of love, a moment here, a moment there. One single birthday cake: Chocolate. I remember the scent still. Then sometimes, she’d let me brush her hair. And a few times, she’s let me sleep with her.” “That’s good, Christian.”

“That’s good?” I ask incredulous. My voice is full of haughty derision. “John, just a fucking handful of good memories in the course of four fucking years! How many positive, joyful memories do your children possess in the course of a single week? I’m not a wagering man, but I’d bet that it would be a lot more than my entire list.” I loathed myself for a long time, because I was unworthy, unloved, and uncared for. “Christian, you’re an adult now. Our reasoning, the way of our thinking is more complex. Our personalities are multifarious. You are hurt because you loved your mom. All of us in this room discovered that your control issues have stemmed from the fact that you were unable to alter her life’s course; you couldn’t control her circumstances, and consequently you couldn’t change her fate. Those were things that couldn’t have been accomplished by a four year old. I know you don’t want to be like her; a failure in parenting. Ella didn’t have a partner in life to help her in parenting or life in general.” “She left me! All alone John!” “And yet, what you got with her departure is a set of loving parents, siblings, consistency, and love. As bad a tragedy as it is Christian, she was the cause of the life you now have. Her death triggered the set of events you couldn’t have had otherwise.” “Why couldn’t she just give him up for adoption without suicide then, John?” Ana asks curiously. “Would that lessen the feeling of abandonment, or increase it? Christian was already four years old. He knew the existence of a birth mother. Some mothers who give up their children change their minds. The adoption process is long. If she changed her mind in a weak moment, they would perhaps be back to square one.” “Dr. Flynn, are you condoning Ella’s suicide?” Ana asks incredulous. “No, Ana. I am examining the motives of a woman who has left a few clues as to how she was feeling. Analyzing the behavior and condoning are two completely different things. It’s a psychological reconstruct. It doesn’t mean that what she did was right. It merely means that her love was misdirected, misguided. Clearly, you behaved out of love for Christian, and your sister in-law Mia when you put your and your baby’s life in danger. In moments of desperation especially in Ella’s situation where she had prolonged desolation, it’s very possible that she may have thought that was the only way to end her agony and save Christian’s future at the same time.” “It’s a lousy way to out, but, I get it,” Ana says.

“Don’t get any ideas!” I scold her. “You see Christian; our lives are not made up of genetics alone. Environment, circumstances, our own way of thinking affect the outcome as your own life can testify to that end result. If you’re looking for a self-fulfilling prophecy, I’m here to tell you that the patterns you’re looking for can be broken: in fact you have broken them. You possess self-knowledge, and you have an intense desire to change. You told me that you want to be worthy of Ana and her love. You have the capability, mental tools, means, and self-control to manage to be a good parent. Even seasoned parents like myself, have doubts in our abilities. The children don’t come with a manual. Each one is different. But, lucky for us, they don’t start out very complicated. For babies, toddlers, and young children, the equation is quite simple. They are genetically designed to love you and be attached to you in the most primal and selfish way. You will find yourself only wanting to reciprocate, be pulled to that baby who wants nothing but your arms.” “Mine or Ana’s?” I ask curiously. Dr. Flynn laughs. “Both. Although I am proud to say that my children prefer me to read to them and put them to bed over my wife’s, but don’t tell that to Rhian.” “I think Christian’s main worry is that I will love him less, and I’ll end up loving the baby more.” “Hmmm… Are you worried about that Christian?” John asks. “I might be slightly worried about that…” I say shrugging. “Do you love Mia?” “Of course.” “Do you love Elliot?” “Certainly.” “How about Grace?” “I adore my mom. Where’s this going John?” “How about Carrick?” he asks ignoring my question.

“I love my dad.” “At any moment, did you think the existence of your love for one individual in your family, diminished the love you have for another member of the family?” “Of course not. I love them all. My love for each of them is different, but then the same.” “Would you be able to choose between them, hold one of them above the other?” I think about it for a moment. My mom saved my life. My love and respect for her is immense. My dad accepted my mother’s desire to adopt me without any qualms. He loves me, and has always been supportive of me except when I left Harvard. Each in their own way, love me, and I love them. “I can’t choose. I love them all.” “So it shall be with your baby. It will be like no other love. You will make room in your heart and your love for Ana will grow for making this love possible for you.” I don’t say anything. I don’t buy into that idea just yet. The fact is I’m terrified of losing time with Ana, or having her attention divided and shifted away from me. But, I will think of that when the time comes. “Thank you John. I think that’s my friend speaking, and not my shrink.” “Sometimes what you need is a friend with the professional knowledge of a shrink,” he says smiling. “We also need to talk about Ana’s fears, John.” “You have fears about the baby?” Dr. Flynn asks. “No, Dr. Flynn. I don’t. Christian was referring to my fear of the paparazzi. Fear of losing my privacy, fear of not being able to discuss simple things with my best friend without it becoming tabloid news, fear of not being able to go out without security.” “Are you worried that Christian’s way of life has too much control over yours?” Her body tenses, and she pulls her hand onto her lap, wringing them. She’s nervous. Is that what she’s thinking? She glances at me nervously, then looks at Dr. Flynn. “Only months ago, I couldn’t even envision this largesse or the voluptuary lifestyle I’m living in. My husband… Christian sets my blood on fire,” she says, her hand reaching out to my knee and squeezing. “But beyond that, I love him with every fiber of my

being. Of course, he constantly reminds me that the abundance in his life is a package deal. It’s part of who he is. I just worry about the dangers it exposes us. More so now that we’re going to have a baby.” I lift my arm up and wrap it around her, pulling her into my embrace protectively. “Every life has its own difficulties Ana, whether you are under the radar or not. There are people who possess very little and they’re nearly invisible to others, not because they’re simply under the radar, or we don’t see them, but the general public only affords them terse, brusque, discourteous, impolite and hasty responses. People move over them quickly. As complex as their personalities may be, most people don’t even pay attention to them, and they are simply ignored as if they don’t exist. Life is hard, very hard for them. That might as well have been the life of Ella. Christian, however created a life only few can dream about. He’s a brilliant man, larger than life. The life he created for himself which you are now a part of, is something that creates envy, curiosity, distinction, and makes him beyond an aristocrat. Clearly a beautiful young wife, a baby on the way of a very attractive man who belongs to the 1% of the top 1% of the world’s wealthiest makes news even if he simply sneezes. What you and Christian wear will become fashion. Everything you do will impact big or small because people will be watching. That’s the other extreme end of the spectrum. It doesn’t mean it’s bad; it simply means you have to develop a different set of skills to deal with those aspects of the particular life you two lead.” “But, Dr. Flynn, you’ve never been ambushed by a group of paparazzi who implied that our baby might not be Christian’s when Christian is the only man I’ve ever been with!” Ana says fervently. “Ahhh… Now we’re getting someplace. Are you worried that the opinions or accusations of the paparazzi might change Christian’s love and affection for you?” A barely audible, “yes,” escapes her lips. Her response makes my jaw drop open. “Christian? Your thoughts on Ana’s worries?” Dr. Flynn asks. I blink a few times. I turn to completely face my wife. “Ana, how could possibly think that? Did you actually think that the hound dogs of the gossip magazines would somehow change my love for you? If any one of them even try to hurt you in any way, I will make sure that the reporter who made the attempt never works again and that any publication that would try to slander you will be punished so hard that it will be sold bit by bit to their enemies to never ever recover again! I don’t

take any threat against you lightly, Ana! You know that.” I say fervently as I lift her chin up and turn her face, forcing her to look up at me. A fearful shudder goes through her. “I know, Christian,” she whispers. “Ana, paparazzi isn’t your only worry. Is it?” Dr. Flynn asks. After hesitating, she responds, “no,” she responds in a low voice. “What else are you worried?” Ana looks at me, then turns back to John, shakes her head, remaining silent. “What?” I ask. John opens his mouth to say something to me. I know where this is going. “Dr. Flynn, before you say something to send me outside the room, I want to hear what my wife is worried about. Clearly it is something about me. Ana…” I say directing the intensity of my gaze at her with wide eyes, my attention is fully on her. My both legs are now firmly planted on the floor. I lean in and place my elbows on my knees. My hands reach out to hers, seeking her warmth, her connection. “Baby, are you worried about my anger? Are you scared of me hurting you? I need to know, baby!” She looks at me and then at John with wide eyes. “If it makes you feel more comfortable…” Dr. Flynn starts. “John!” I warn. “Christian, my office, my rules!” he says raising his eyebrows. How gallant of you John! Anastasia pulls her hands out of mine in frustration, and throws her hands up in the air in exasperation. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! Both of you; keep your britches on! I’m NOT scared that my husband will hurt me. I’m only worried that because of me, he will get hurt! That someone is trying or will try to get to him through me. I don’t know all the rules of dealing with media, especially the gossip media. But I am learning,” she says looking at me. “But even if I was a pro in this, I’d still worry, because I am in love with my husband,” she whispers in a soft voice. “I love you Christian Grey, fiercely, intensely, helplessly, unashamedly, and most ardently. But, the recent events, especially this morning’s ambush made me realize that some people will go to any lengths to hurt us

personally and publicly as if they’re on a Sunday picnic, as if their actions have no ramifications, and feel that it’s simply okay to do so. And in that, I’ll get hurt, and they’ll hurt you through me.” “Security…” I start saying but she holds up a finger. “I also want normalcy, at least the illusion of privacy which is something I had not realized of it being a luxury for some, for us. Yet, what give me nightmares are the unknown faces who wish you harm you. That’s what terrified me this afternoon in my nightmare.” “What was your nightmare about, Ana?” asks Flynn curiously. Her eyes widen again with fear. She takes in a shaky breath. The hand she’s holding mine is squeezing me so tight, her knuckles are white. Dr. Flynn’s eyes assess her entire body language and he scribbles feverishly onto his tablet. Ana’s gaze drifts up to my eyes, seeking reassurance. My gaze in return softens. I shift on the sofa, and reposition my arm around her torso again, holding her tightly under my arm, lending my support. My other hand just holds hers on her lap, my thumb caresses her fingers soothingly. “I told some of my nightmare to Christian this afternoon,” she starts. She swallows, then takes a shaky breath. “I am walking through a lavish building with arches, Dorian columns into a painstakingly elegant, beautiful room. Then it turns into the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles. I’m watching the painted arches, the decorated marble pilasters. It’s ostentatious, splendid… But what is different is that the hall becomes a room with no exit on any side. Aphrodite’s statue is in the middle of the mirrored room. We are admiring her. You,” she says emphasizing, “are admiring her. Aphrodite’s face is aloof, expressionless, timeless, but before our eyes, her belly starts growing, quite big actually. Your admiration of her changes to something of dislike first. Then when her transformation is complete, she turns into me. It was me. What I saw in Christian eyes,” she says her voice barely audible, “was disgust, disinterest, loss of love. I see myself firmly planted in the place, with a marble base, grown belly, naked top. Then, I remember flashes. Blinding flashes. Thousands of them, amplified by the mirrors. I see my very pregnant, very undesirable image in the three hundred and fifty seven mirrors reflected thousands of times. But the blinding camera flashes continue to come. Voices are loud, mocking, unknown. I have never felt so alone. So… Very… Abandoned. Then I feel pain, horrible pain like I’ve never felt before. The Blip is trying to come out,” she whispers taking a deep shuddering breath. Her eyes are unblinking. She’s lost to her nightmare. She snuggles into me turning small, pulling her legs up under her. Her hands are wringing, she bows her head down. Then both her hands move to her belly protectively. Another shudder goes through her.

“Then something horrible happens. A hand or hands cut me open. I feel the gush of blood, fluids amidst the flashes and mocking noises, and someone yanks my Blip out of me. I hear one cry of the baby, a pained scream more like it. Then it’s gone. I can’t move!” she says her voice is rising. “I am immobile, bleeding, and I can’t even scream. All I see is tears running down the expressionless marble face, and flashes… I have never felt so alone, so impossibly alone in such a mean crowd. So helpless. I felt the absolute loss of everything I loved. I wanted the flashes and the noises to cease. I wanted my feet to be mobile to look for the baby who was already taken by the unknown hands. I wanted to ask Christian to help me. He too was gone, too disgusted with me. Then I had the overwhelming desire to… die…” she whispers to my horrified ears. I think both Flynn and I look at her with the same shocked, gaping face. Neither of us is able to say a word to her. John’s feverish scribbling comes to a halt. I think he’s the first one who clears his throat and makes an attempt to talk. “Is this the first time you’ve had such a nightmare?” “I’ve had the Versailles nightmare before where Christian walked away from me and disappeared,” she murmurs without looking at me. My gaze on the other hand trained on her. “Did you know about her nightmare, Christian?” Dr. Flynn asks. “No,” a curtly reply comes out of me, without looking at Flynn. “You only told me about the other nightmare.” “You had another nightmare?” Flynn asks. “I had the other nightmare first. I was too tired and fell back asleep, then I had this nightmare which completely scared me,” she murmurs. “Why didn’t you tell Christian about your other nightmares before, Ana?” Flynn asks. “Tell him? Dr. Flynn, all I wanted to do was to forget the nightmare, not firmly plant it into my mind by repeating its content to Christian! And usually I would… forget it. But of late, it’s been coming back to me with intensity, and after what happened this morning, I had this nightmare. There was just no way I could forget it. I was terrified,” she says her breathing is rapid as if she just ran a marathon.

“How about the desire to die? Is this a first in your nightmare? Is this limited to your nightmares? Do you have thoughts of suicide?” he asks softly. I stiffen immediately, looking at Anastasia, seeking the truth in the words she’s going to utter. “Nooo!” she says fervently. “No thoughts of suicide! It was a first in my nightmare. I had never felt that emotion before. But then again, I had never lost everything I loved,” she says looking at me while her hands are on her belly protectively. “I have never felt the absolute desolation, everything I loved taken away or walked away from me. I have felt the loss of my reason for being,” she says her eyes brimming with unshed tears. I hear a sharp intake of breath as my unblinking eyes look at my wife, and realize it’s me. Right in front of Dr. Flynn’s widened, surprised eyes, I pull Anastasia onto my lap, hold her tightly, inhaling her scent. “I will never let you go, Mrs. Grey. Do you think it’s that easy to get rid of me? You are my woman, and that is our baby. No one will dare to harm you or him. I will cherish you still no matter how big your belly gets with our child. Got it?” I whisper for her ears only. It gives me another firm determination to find out who is causing all this trouble. She silently nods. “Ana, one more question…” Flynn says clearing his throat. I let Ana sit next to me again on the sofa, but I don’t let go of her, keeping her tightly under my arm. “Did the thought of death ceased once you woke up from your nightmare?” “Once I oriented myself, realized it was a nightmare, something that was outside of my control, it dissipated like smoke. Yes, completely gone. That is not who I am Dr. Flynn, but it emphasized that I had no control of the events around me, or what others do to me. When Christian walked away in my nightmare, the people still continued to do what they were doing to me, mocking, laughing, taking pictures, and endless camera flashes. But this time, I was completely, absolutely, singularly alone. That’s the worst feeling because it was amplified with the feeling of loss. It’s thousands of times worse than just being all alone. It’s as if my heart and soul were ripped into shreds irrevocably.” Her body shakes. Another shaky breath is inhaled. Then her voice goes very low. “I can’t survive you, Christian. I can’t survive being without you,” she whispers. Alone – Celine Dion “Ana, it is unhealthy to think that you can’t survive someone…” “Someone?” I retort tilting my head.

“Let me rephrase it. It is unhealthy to think that you can’t survive Christian,” he says. “Love is a very strong emotion. But you’re both very young. These aren’t the kind of emotions that should be filling your head with. Given that you’re pregnant...” “John, what is that a testimonial?” I ask. Dr. Flynn sighs. “Christian, we’re only analyzing Anastasia’s nightmare, and we want Anastasia to have a healthy set of emotions. Her hormones may also be affecting her current distress. Coupled with her experience with the paparazzi, she is distressing. Ana needs reassurance and a break.” “And that is professional opinion? John, emotion by definitions is a natural instinctive state of mind deriving from a person’s circumstances, mood or relationship with others. Health is not always involved. They’re subjective, conscious experiences and natural responses to those experiences.” “Yet they can be harmful which is why it’s paramount that she learns to direct them in positive channels, and not let them take over her cognitive appraisal, action tendencies and definitely not lower her mental and physical defenses.” “Agreed,” I nod firmly. “How do I do that?” Ana asks in a determined tone. “By knowing what something really is. You and Christian are ‘news makers’ which makes other people curious. An attack by paparazzi doesn’t have to be personal. They want money, and only a sensational story can make that happen because of that public curiosity in the lives of a handsome couple. Don’t give them the reason to pursue you more by reacting to their accusations in the way they expect you to. Your defense against them is to understand the motives behind, and learn how to deal with it. Your fears will only make them goad you more. Understand that each and every person has fears and worries. None of us is immune to them. We have no guarantees in life. But the effects of those fears, phobias that finally infest our dreams can be lessened if we learn to take control of our lives and not letting them overrun us by simply by understanding why we are afraid. It won’t happen overnight, but it will happen. Think of the time when your father was in the hospital. You didn’t have any control of what happened to him, or how his body responded to treatment. You and Christian did the only thing possible: provided him with the best medical care that was available, and let his body do the rest. The fact is, a lot happens

out of our control as Christian found out when you got pregnant, and when you were attacked by Hyde,” he says a shudder goes through me as if someone just walked over my grave. “How do you intend to deal with it?” he asks Anastasia. “Are you going to let outsiders to take control of your life and emotions or do you wish to keep that control in your own hands? You can’t control how others behave, but you can control how you react,” he says raising his eyebrows. Anastasia nods. “I won’t let outsiders control my reactions,” replies Anastasia. “Good. I’d like to see you both again, soon,” Flynn says with a smile. We stand up to leave. “Christian, may I have a word with you privately?” he murmurs.

“Sure,” I reply curiously. Worry washes over me, drenching my soul. What is wrong?

Sting ft. Stevie Wonder - Fragile

CHAPTER XVII TOTAL SURRENDER Lust is to the other passions what the nervous fluid is to life; it supports them all, lends strength to

them all ambition, cruelty, avarice, revenge are all founded on lust.

Marquis De Sade

“Wait for me by Taylor and Sawyer baby,” I say letting her out of Flynn’s office. She looks at me with worried eyes. I give her a reassuring smile. Once she walks out, I close the door behind her. The smile is gone from my face. My eyes harden, determined, cold shards of ice. “What’s wrong John?”

“I like you to keep an eye on Anastasia. Her emotions seem fragile. She has had intense events plague her life recently and her cup may just be full. Meeting you, introduction to your life style, getting married, getting pregnant, her father’s accident, getting kidnapped, near death experience, and now the paparazzi hounding her…” “Are you trying to say, I’m too much for her, that I’m the cause of the problems plaguing my wife?” “No, Christian. Life happens. Going by what you have relayed me about Ana, if she hasn’t met you, she might have been raped by her friend, Mr. Rodriguez after a drunken stupor. She would still get a job at SIP, and she might have been abused by her former boss and without a protector, she might have been trapped not knowing how to deal with him. Worse yet, she might have been like one of the other assistants who ended up on a sordid sex tape. Her father would still have the car accident, and she may or may not have gotten him the best care. Those things would still have happened with very undesirable outcomes. And as for pregnancy, unprotected sex leads to pregnancy. She could have gotten pregnant either by Mr. Rodriguez’s assault or her boss’. All pregnancy takes is one unprotected sex, and as you can attest to it, even protected sex may result in pregnancy,” he says and rage washes over me like hot, scalding water, bringing me to the brink of no control. All he said is true. The thought that my wife could have been the victim of numerous misfortunes or attacks by people near her angers me to no end. “What I’m saying is that all these events could still have happened; and without the help of someone like you who can teach her how to take charge of her life or without your protection, she may have come out unscathed, but that is unlikely given the circumstances. You’re in a position to do that without overwhelming her. Anastasia is a very strong woman. One of the strongest women I’ve known, but pregnancy, especially the first pregnancy can overwhelm a woman physically and emotionally. Several hormones are introduced during pregnancy and some are going to be higher levels which will give her mood swings, depression, sleep disturbances, changing in eating habits, inability to concentrate, morning sickness and a whole list of other things. I need you to give her a sense of control…” “I can’t lax the security if that’s what you are asking given the hounding she’s been getting from paparazzi and reporters.” “I’m not asking you to let go of the security measures you’ve put in place to keep her safe. But we each want to be in charge of most aspects of our lives. Even if it is the illusion of control of her choices, give her that, to help lessen her fears.”

I not curtly, wordlessly. I have some ideas. I will teach her to be in control, at least of her own body and mind. “Anything else?” I ask. “Yes. Leila has been calling. She wants to come to west to visit couple of her friends during Thanksgiving break. She said she will have time off from school then. She wants to know if it’s alright with you to come this way.” “Absolutely not! That’s all I need after all this paparazzi shit! If she even tried to get close to Ana at work, or outside someplace, do you know what it would do to her? Or that knowledge of an ex by the paparazzi! They can even make it out like I’m looking for an old fling because my wife’s pregnant.” “Christian, no one knows that you have exes. As far as anyone is concerned, you’ve been a confirmed bachelor. Even if Leila was to get close to Ana, they could just assume she is a friend of hers.” “Not likely, John. I can’t take the chance. I gave her the ultimatum, and I’m not backing down. One foot to the west of Mississippi, and all the help is cut off. Nothing! Zip! Nada! I mean it. No one, nothing, ever will jeopardize Anastasia ever again.” “Alright. I’ll relay that information to her.” “How is her progress? Have you spoken to her doctor?” “Her school is giving her a sense of normalcy, a routine. She’s near her parents and from what I hear, they’re loving, caring parents. Her doctor thinks that her progress is on target. I’ve asked the reports after her request. She’s still in love with you, and I told her I didn’t recommend her to come near you, or keep in touch with you. That would be taking several steps back from her progress, and she needs to move forward. She may not be ready to find someone else just yet. She still has a lot of healing to do from her loss. I think, if she comes near you, or gets in touch with you, the contact may regress her. We don’t want her to transfer her emotions from her grief to translate into feelings for you which clearly will not help her to heal and move forward. But, if she only intends to visit her friends, I don’t see problems with that.” “John, I told you, I can’t take the chance. She will never come near my wife even if I have to force her to remain on the other side of the country. I have not forgotten the gun

she pulled on my wife! I have not forgotten how she freak Mrs. Jones out by opening up a vein. I’ve not forgotten how she freaked me out by coming to Anastasia’s work, and she deliberately ignored my orders to talk to her! No! I know my wife. She will not listen. And I also know Leila who can be very mischievous, and I realize it’s also manipulative even if it’s because she’s in love with me. So, my answer is a definite NO. She may not take half a step the Mississippi! If I hear it from any of my security detail, or anyone with ears on the ground, the help is GONE! I mean it! You saw my wife. You just told me what a fragile state she is in. Do you think I’d let anyone to add to that?” “It’s your decision, Christian. I will relay the information, and tell her to stay in the east coast.” “Thank you.” “Remember to bring Anastasia in, soon. I want to see if there’s any improvements to her nightmares. She needs you, Christian.” “I know. I’ll do everything in my power to keep her safe.” “That’s not enough. You need to provide the tools for her that she can do that on her own. When you have children, you don’t walk for them, you don’t eat for them, you don’t do the learning for them. You can however teach, and provide the tools for the person to learn or improve the skills. All you have to do is to teach her, because you’ve been dealing with media for a long time and give her the tools to deal with them. She will surprise you. She’s a remarkable woman,” Dr. Flynn says. “That she is John. She’s outstanding. Her strength takes my breath away. Thank you, John,” I respond. “See you next week then if you have time,” he says extending his hand which I take gladly. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

The ride to home is silent. We’re each lost in our thoughts. I’m determined more than ever to teach her how to be in charge of the fuckers who swarm around her. Taylor drops us off in front of the elevators. Sawyer rides up the elevators with us. I hold her hand in mine firmly as if to reassure her I won’t ever walk away from her, or let someone else to pluck her away from me. When the elevator doors ding open, we step out into the foyer of our apartment. I dismiss Sawyer then turn to my wife trapping her both with my gaze and with my body.

“Are you tired or unwell?” I ask. “No, I took a long nap, remember?” she replies smiling expectantly.

“Good. I want you to go to the playroom, baby. And I want you to kneel by the door with only your panties on,” I murmur lasciviously. Her eyes brighten, her breath catches. “You’re not teasing me like you did earlier, are you?” she asks suspiciously. “No. No games. Well, not until we get to the playroom, anyway.” “Are we going to continue our lessons?” she asks hopeful. “Perhaps. Depends if you’re up for a challenge,” I say offhandedly. “Are you up for a challenge Mrs. Grey? Do you think you can handle it?” “I thought I’ve proven this afternoon that I could handle any challenge you can dish out at me, Mr. Grey,” she responds. “Yes, but what I have in mind is something we’ve never tried before. We are going to do anal play… That is if you think you can handle it. I’ve told you before baby, I’m going to claim your delectable derriere and tonight’s the night,” I whisper licking the shell of her ear. She closes her eyes in pure please. “Yes… sir,” escapes her lips.

“Good girl,” I say pulling her lush mouth to mine. Every nerve ending is alert on my body. When I pull her sumptuous body, her breasts still growing with pregnancy press into my body. Having a glimpse into her mind and knowing how deeply she loves me, profoundly affect me. Barely controlling my shaking hands, I pull her closer to me, still.

“I want you to kiss me,” I order. I could kiss her for days, but I want her to take the initiative. Show me the depth of her craving for me; take what she needs of me at this moment, because she’s going to relinquish that freedom momentarily. She bites her lower lip first, then places tender kisses across my eyelids, making me groan. The fever from her touch heats my blood, and burns me. Her feather light kisses continue down to my cheek, my jaw line, and the corner of my lips.

“Do you have any idea, what I’ve gone through in the last hour when I found out the depth of your fears?” I whisper with agony, closing my eyes. Anastasia licks the corner of my mouth. “Perhaps you understand how I feel knowing your fears of losing me, Christian,” she says drifting her tongue across my lips. “I didn’t like it. I know my own fears. I couldn’t bear it if you had similar torments.” “Don’t you want me to share my fears?” she asks as she nips at my throat. I groan. My erection jerks between her legs. “Don’t toy with me, Ana. You know I want you to tell me everything. I crave to know everything that goes through you beautiful head! I want to know your desires, wishes, fears, wants. I want know them so fully and want to possess you so completely, even though you’re my wife, and mine alone, I still want to ruin you for any other man who has eyes for you. I know that this isn’t what the good doctor likes to hear. Maybe it’s not what you want to hear…” I say as her tongue trails up my throat. “But I’m a man

possessed by his wife, in love with her so completely, isn’t it only fair that I get to reciprocate?” Her lips continue to tease me. I groan, and cut her ministrations with a hard kiss which she returns with equal ardor. Her body soft and hot, fitting into mine like a glove. My tongue swirls greedily and urgently in her mouth. Her hands travel into my hair, twisting and pulling. I lift her body up and tilt her head to better seal my mouth over hers, caressing her lower lip, catching it between my teeth, sucking and nipping it. Then I lick with my tongue gently to soothe the sting. By the time we break the kiss, we’re consumed in each other, oblivious to our surroundings. I notice Taylor stealthily move away from the foyer, and retreat into his office. Anastasia doesn’t even realize his presence. “I’d risk everything for you. I love you, Anastasia Grey. Are you ready for the challenge I have I have in mind for you?” “Nothing from my hard limits?” “Of course not! Ana, this is not about breaking you down, or disregarding your limits. But I want to us to explore your limits and teach you control over your body and your mind. Lesson continued… Did you like the earlier lesson?” “Yes!” she breathes. “Yes, what?” I chastise her with a slap on her buttocks. “Yes, sir!” “Now, go to the playroom.” And she leaves the foyer with excitement. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

When I enter into the playroom, Anastasia kneeled down by the door. Her chestnut hair falling in a thick curtain over her breasts full of shinny luster, creating a heavenly vision. Her head is cast down. Her fingers splayed on her knees. I don’t speak to her. I walk towards the wall with the cabinet where I have my suspension ropes contained. I don’t want to suspend Anastasia, but I want to restrain her, make her feel completely helpless so not only she surrenders her body to me, but she learns to take possession of her own mind, and consequently her own body, controlling them both. I’m still shaken

that she hid the contents of her nightmares from me. I need her to surrender to me willingly. I want her to completely, absolutely, wholly, utterly trust me with her mind and body, letting go of her fears and worries, trust me that when she lets me take over the problems that are worrying her, I can protect her, make the problems go away so she can finally breathe, and relax.

I unlock the narrow cabinet. There is an assortment of ropes neatly and innocently hanging inside. I choose the six millimeter red nylon rope. It’s good for beginners, doesn’t chafe, can get slightly loose when used for longer periods, or as the person moves. I want her to understand what it means to completely surrender, lose all the senses except for smell and touch, yet by the loss of all senses, I’d be opening up the doors to a whole set of new senses. Technically, Anastasia is still an anal virgin. Just using the butt plug and the pinkie doesn’t count. I want to fully claim her ass tonight, and give her a very important lesson in control and surrender. I dock the iPod into the stereo next. Set the song I want to use in the scene, and tuck the remote in my back pocket. Then taking the headphones with the attached antenna to receive the music feed from the stereo in my hand, I walk to the butt drawer. I take the two toys I’d like to utilize from the drawer. Satisfied with the choices, I close the drawer. Then I take three other toys, and grab the scented bottle of oil. And now the toys for the scene I want is complete. I take them to the table, and line them up carefully. I spare a quick glance at Anastasia. She’s waiting patiently, but I think her legs got sore sitting. She tries to shift her position inconspicuously. Her breathing seems to be rapid with her rising expectation. I slowly pad my way to where Anastasia is kneeling. I can feel her gaze drift to my bare feet. She’s drinking the sight in.

“You may look at me Anastasia,” I order. Her eyes slowly glide up my jean clad legs to the top of my jeans with the single undone button, then rising up on my naked torso. Her eyes halt over my abs then over my chest, my lips and finally coming to rest on my eyes. She looks anticipative. Her lips part with sudden desire, and a soft exhale exits her lips. I extend my hand to her. “Do you have any idea how delectable you look Mrs. Grey?” I ask her, my lips only a breath away from her ear. Her nipples pucker as if a cold breeze ran over them. They’re taut and eager for my touch. She shakes her head, unable to speak a word. “Turn your back,” I order.

“Yes…” she says at first, but she immediately amends herself, “yes, sir.” I hide a smile. I part her hair in three parts and braid it quickly and tie the end. Giving it a good tug, I pulled her head back and kiss her with velvety soft licks deep in her mouth priming her. Anastasia moans in my mouth. “Hush now,” I murmur as I cup her breasts, kneading them.

“Do you know what I planned for you tonight?” I say. “No, sir.” “We’re going to try something new that we haven’t done before. We’re going to do rope play and I’m going to claim you ass completely,” I explain. “Will it hurt, sir?” “I’ve tied you up before, and you’ve been cuffed, and have been effectively immobilized numerous times. This is a different form of restraint, but it is extremely sensual. It requires your full…” I walk around her to face me, “complete…” I caress her face, “trust,” I whisper. “Trust that I will test your limits while caring for you, and take you to the peaks of pleasure you didn’t know existed,” I murmur.

“It will be intense. And I’m going to cut you off from your auditory senses. I will blindfold you. I will push your limits each time, and you will learn to master your body. Learn to feel without relying on your eyes and your ears. Are you ready, Anastasia?” I ask. She nods, dazed. I swat her behind hard. She yelps. “Yes, sir,” she mutters. I hold the red nylon rope to her. “Touch it,” I say. She lifts her hand up to caress the 25’ long rope. “I another set of ten feet which I will use for your legs.” “Won’t this be enough for all?” “No, baby, it won’t. I’ll be using this up in no time, from here,” I run my index fingers in the oppose direction over her shoulders, “…to here,” I say cupping her sex. She closes her eyes, inhaling sharply. “I’m going to use this rope to wrap it around your torso. It’s called ‘karada’ in Japanese. It’s quite easy to tie. It’s the basic rope harness. It’ll take me about fifteen minutes to tie it. But first, let’s get rid of this,” I say running my hand over the lace of her panties.

I kneel before her and slowly lower her panties running my hands down sensually, giving her a sensory taste. When the panties pool down around her ankles, I let her walk out of them. Then I slowly run my hands up her legs. Reaching up the junction of her thighs, I inhale her scent deeply as I hold her buttocks in my palms. An involuntary shudder goes through her. I dip my tongue between the folds of her blooming sex, tasting her juices. Sealing my lips over her clitoris, I suck. Hard. She moans in a deep husky sound as she holds my shoulders for support. My tongue swirls and tastes her. Finally I pull out, leaving her wanting more, and abruptly rise to my feet to catch her face in my hands, and let her taste her arousal within my kiss. Pulling her body closer to me, I run my straining erection under my jeans. When I let her go, I hold the rope up again. Completely breathless, she eyes the rope.

“Fifteen minutes, sir?”

“Yes. It would normally take me about seven minutes, but I want to enjoy the process, and I want you to enjoy it. This is completely new for you. Are you ready Anastasia?” I ask.

“Yes, sir,” she says blinking. I find the center point of the rope which I drape around the back of my wife’s neck. Then I bring the ends of the rope around one another three times which I will use to create three diamonds to create the rope harness. I then bring the two ends of the rope between her legs as I rub over her sex in the process and then up and apart on the other side in the back. I wrap each end of the rope around her hips and then through the lowest twist in the front. But, I make sure I don’t pull the rope tight because as I work my way up, it will get tighter. I work my way around the front and through the twist doing the same thing one more time.

“Are you comfortable?” I ask as she watches me work the rope expertly. I can see the curiosity in her eyes, and the unspoken jealousy because I have done this to other women. I have longed to do it to her. I love rope play, but I have never enjoyed it as much as I do now. “Yes, sir. It’s stimulating my clitoris as you are working your way up here,” she points down with her head. “I’m going to bring the ends of the rope behind you, and then back around your front, and then tie it here,” I say pointing beneath her arms. “Yes, sir,” she responds excitedly. The rope wraps beneath and above her breasts emphasizing the growing mounds. I can’t help but run my hands over them, and make sure that the ropes caress over her breasts as well. Each touch elicits a sharp intake of breath from her, making her close her eyes to savor the sensation.

“You look simply sensational, baby!” I say admiring my handiwork. I take the rope around her front, and through the topmost twist, then back around behind her again. And on her back I just wrap the ends of the rope around the part where it loops around the back of her. I love this technique because the web I created is quite useful in making handles for grabbing, twisting and pulling. “I’m not restricting me, sir. It’s like a very sexy, revealing outfit. What’s the rope’s function?” I smile without a response. She’ll find out soon enough. My only response is pulling her handling the weave right under her breasts, and sealing my lips over hers in a loud,

demanding kiss. After releasing her, “Anastasia, I want you to go to the wall, and fetch me the riding crop,” I order. She looks at me confused. “Now!” I command. “Yes, sir,” she replies and goes to the far wall to get the leather riding crop. As she moves, she feels the rope moves against the sensitive parts of her body, stimulating her sex, creating movement against her inner thighs and buttocks, waking up her nerves buried beneath the layer of fat. The affects are even more stimulating after spanking. She comes back with the riding crop, and lifts it up to hand it to me; she’s already flushed with stimuli.

“Now, kneel on the bed,” I order, and she climbs on top of the four poster bed, kneeling. “I’m going to frog tie your legs which will completely restrict your legs bending them on the knee, and will force you to remain on your knees, baby,” I whisper. I take a new piece of rope, the ten footer and wrap with the karada and bring it down on her legs. Passing it under her leg and up around her leg. “This is going to be very restricting baby. But I want you to surrender yourself to me. I will teach you how to experience… completely experience and prolong your pleasure. That is only achieved with greater control. Do you understand Anastasia?” She nods her head. I slap her buttocks. “Yes, sir,” she responds. “You look like a goddess, baby. I am completely turned on, by this sight of you!” I say in awe.

“I will eliminate your senses one by one so that you solely focus on feeling, tuning into my body’s cues for you. The last sense you will lose is hearing. I’m going to blindfold you now,” I whisper near her ear, nipping her earlobe.” I take the blindfold and cover her eyes. After she’s blindfolded, “Open your mouth baby,” I order. She obeys immediately. “I’m going to put these into your mouth to lubricate them.” “What are they, sir?” she asks. “Anal beads,” I reply as she accepts the graduating sizes of silicone beads into the wet warmth of her mouth.

“Now, give me your hand,” I order. She extends her hand out. I put the nipple clamps into her palms, making her feel them. “These are adjustable. I think you can graduate to these,” I tell her. “I will not make them very tight, but tight enough to push you to your sensory limits. She exhales her breath through the beads, and nods. I lean in and capture a nipple into my eager mouth and suck it deeply. Then I take the other nipple

between my fingertips, rolling it. I pinch her painfully tight nipples making a groan escapes her lips. She arches her back, thrusting her breast further into my mouth. I tease her nipple, nipping it with my teeth, and then suckle it with long, drawing pulls. Anastasia moans, completely seduced by my desire for her. I take her other nipple into my mouth, and suckle it as I place the nipple clamp over the free nipple while she’s still writhing under my tongue. Finally I place the remaining clamp over the nipple that tightened and elongated begging for more attention within my mouth. I tug the chain that is connecting both the clamps after both nipples are secured.

I stand back and finally turn the iPod on where forty different heavenly voices rise one after another in the Spem in Alium by Thomas Tallis. Anastasia’s head comes up when she hears the sound. Spem in Alium – Thomas Tallis Hiding a smile, I pour the scented oil in the middle of my palm and start rubbing around her buttocks and anus. I pull the handles I’ve created, lifting her buttocks up in the air, forcing her on her knees. Spreading her legs apart, she supports herself on her elbows. My fingers glide over her slit, stroking the lips of her sex. Then I insert the oiled pinkie into her anus gently, circling, softening her. “I’ll take the beads now,” I say and take them out of her mouth. They’re warm and lubricated. I still put two drops of oil in my palm and run the beads through the warm oil. Finally, massage the rim of her anus again, coaxing, softening and gently insert the beads into her.

“Anastasia, you will feel like you are under a sexual siege. I’m going to dominate and take over all of your senses. Every. Single. One. Of. Them. Do you understand that?” “Yes, sir.” “Now, I’m going to gag you.” “Gag? Soft limit,” she reminds me. “I remember. But, do you think you can try it baby? Can you fully trust me and what my body can give you? Can you handle the loss of all senses to make way for the senses I’m going to open up for you?” I ask gently rubbing her exposed sex. “This is what total surrender is, and in return I will teach you to have total control of your mind and your body by controlling multiple sensations. You will be experiencing pleasures you’ve never had before, and I will teach you how to be one body with me at the peak of your pleasures, baby. Do you think you can handle it?” “Yes, I can, sir,” she says, her voice breathy. Her body adjusts, and her sex glistens with her cream in anticipation. “I showed you how the gag works before. You will clamp your teeth on it. You can still breathe through it, baby. If you don’t like it, shake your head, and I’ll take it off. But try it first. Let’s try the total surrender first,” I instruct. I want her to find the mental space to get to when she can’t use words to respond malicious intent like the paparazzi attack and connect with me when verbal communication isn’t possible. I want her to learn how to draw strength from me. She couldn’t do that when she was faced the paparazzi. She couldn’t speak or respond. I want to show her the place in her mind she can climb where she can have nearly absolute control of how she reacts when all the external

sensories are shut down or overwhelmed. She can’t achieve that if she does not practice and I intend to overwhelm all of her pleasure senses while restricting her body completely, pushing Anastasia to her very limits in her carnal desires. “Think how you couldn’t respond even when you had the power of speech. After I put the gag on, I’m going to place the headphones which will receive the music from the iPod. Finally, I will cuff your elbows to your bent ankles. The cuffs will force you on your elbows, your buttocks presented and your legs spread. What a magnificent vision, you are already, Anastasia! Simply breathtaking!” I say rubbing her buttocks. “All we all clear so far, baby?” “Yes, sir.”

“This will get very…” I say running my hand over her side as I whisper in her ear, “…very…” I lick the shell of her ear as a moan escapes, her tilting her head back to my shoulder, “…very…” I trail kisses down her throat, “…very intense.” I inhale her scent closing my eyes, running my nose shoulder to shoulder. “I have longed for the absolute, singular connection with you, Anastasia,” I murmur. “When all the external senses are shut down, you will only be in tune with me, baby…” my front is to her back. I run my fingertips over her arms. A shiver goes through her body. “I have never desired anyone, or anything as much as I desire you right now, Anastasia. You are the love of my life, my soul. I yearn for our souls to connect. Can you give me that baby?” “Yes…” she responds in a husky lascivious voice.

“Good girl. Now, if you want me to stop, tap with your hand,” I say holding her right hand up in mine, “…three times, And I’ll stop. I’m your husband, your lover, and not your dom. But, we are testing your limits, so it’s important that I know when you’ve reached your limits.” I will be tuning into her body as well, feeling, listening, and connecting. I want our connection to be so perfect, very deep and infinitely intense. “Open your mouth, and when I put the ball in your mouth, I want you to clamp your teeth on it,” I order. “Yes, sir.” Once she clamps on the ball, I secure it on the back of her head. I place her on her back and secure the leather cuffs to her elbow and to the corresponding knee. “Oh, baby! You are ravishing! A sumptuous morsel,” I murmur. Holding through the webs I weaved over her body, I quickly turn her over and lift her buttock up in the air. She is now supporting herself on her elbows and her knees.

“Remember, three taps,” I say caressing her right hand, as I lean over her. “Time for the headphones, Ana,” I say and put the headphones cutting her last sense to the outside world aside from touch. I take the riding crop and run it across the length of her body, awakening the only sense she has to the outside world. Mozart – Requiem I take the remote control out and switch the song to Mozart’s Requiem. It’s the unexpected. Anastasia shifts forming a triangle from her elbows to her hands. Her legs are forced apart because her elbows pull the frog tied legs. I run the riding crop between her thigh, over her pubic bone, and finally between the fold of her sex,

spreading the folds expertly with the tip of the riding crop. I rub her with the tip in a leisurely back and forth glide. Her sex is slick with her juices, insatiable for only what I can give her. A muffled mewl escapes her throat behind the gag. I stroke her sex, back and forth, spreading the cream into the fold, and back to her anus, slowly, tantalizingly. Then leaning in, I hold her buttocks and thighs with my hands, and gift her sex with a lover’s kiss, primitively, pushing my tongue inside her, stroking her inner walls. My tongue is embraced by the inner walls of her pussy like a sex starved lover. The torment of climbing the peak but keeping it at bay only to prolong and intensify the end result is also the pleasure. I won’t rest until every part of her body feels the sensation. When I feel the contractions building up, I pull back. Her sex is drenched in our comingled juices. I take the riding crop again after running it over her sex, I start raining small flicks over her buttocks, thighs, and sex, utilizing the rope’s pressure point of her body to further stimulate her giving her senses a workout. I make sure that I don’t land the riding crop on the same spot, but I land the flicks without an established pattern. That way her body doesn’t know what to expect, where to expect; this is the best way to get most of her erogenous zones to be stimulated.

I then hold the loop at the end of the anal beads and pull it out one bead at a time slowly in between the flicks. Anastasia tilts her head back in accumulated pleasure. I slowly push the beads back, one bead at a time. She can’t close her legs without pulling her arms. When I feel her sex building up for an orgasm, I stop and squeeze her buttock with my left hand reminding her to hold, savor, escape to a higher level of consciousness and let the pleasure build up for a bigger impact. She takes a deep shaky breath, shuddering. Her bottom is pink, blood collected, ready for an intense orgasm anytime I’m up to deliver it. This is the ripe time to utilize the Hitachi wand. She’s primed. I take the wand and toy with her clit, providing a constant stimulation while pulling the beads in and out.

A muffled ‘please!’ comes out Anastasia. I drop the wand and quickly divest my jeans springing my cock free, and plunge deep into my wife. The primed, creamy walls of her sex sucks the head of my cock, pulling it deep, as if she’s starved for my cock. I pull her to me by weaved web of ropes. This way they awaken all the nerves in all of her erogenous zones the rope is touching: her breasts, underarms, groin, hips, buttocks, thighs. As she attempts to writhe beneath me, the base of my cock kisses the opening of her sex. I pull the anal beads, just one bead at a time, and insert it back at the same time as my cock plunges into her. My balls tighten and slap her clitoris with each plunge, stimulating her, priming her for the quadruple orgasm I am intending to give her simultaneously. I pull my cock back to the tip. It’s coated in our juices from the engorged tip to my large base.

I pull on the weaved ropes on her back, making Anastasia gasp as her sweet sex parts and I encircle her clitoris with the pad of my middle finger. Then pull my cock back to the tip when I feel her reaching her peak, her toes curling before my eyes, her head arching back. I pull away my finger and let my balls do the slapping of her clit. As Anastasia reaches her climax when my cock is deep inside her tissues, fighting to claim every burning inch of me, I pull her nipple clamps, releasing her nipples of their

captivity. A deeply pleasured moan escapes her as she pushes her buttock to accept my cock further in. In her mid-orgasm, I pull the anal beads out. And closing my eyes, I slam into her again and again. Letting her waves of orgasm claim me, and go into a frenzy to suck me dry. The first spurt of semen shoots out of my cock thick and hot into my wife’s sex. With a flex of my cock, I pull out and place my cock over her throbbing anus, and slowly insert my cream and semen covered erection into her ass inch by inch. The slick thickness of my cock slides into her anus like a custom made glove. I seat myself to the hilt inside her. The pulses going through her thickens my cock again, and slowly I push in and out of her ass, claiming my wife’s derriere. Her anus hugs my length, my balls slapping onto her clit again, eliciting another orgasm. She pushes back into me, and with the way she positions her body, she is asking me to hold just at that angle.

I hold. She managed to communicate with me even when all her sensories were shut down. With a swivel of my hips I stroked the point she wants pleasured with the throbbing tip of my cock. She moans again. Our bodies are covered with sheen of sweat. The sound of my balls hitting onto her sex, the rhythmic strokes of my cock over and over again on the deep spot inside her, the smell of our united scents, the musky scent of sex, intoxicating, the moans of Anastasia’s pleasure only spurs me further. I close my eyes, and I see her in my mind, smell her, the sounds of ecstasy spilling from her lips are always in my mind, even when I’m working. At this moment, we are one, body and soul. Her anus eagerly suckles my cock, and this time we reach our peak together, finally spilling every drop of semen flooding her. My eyes roll in the back of my head, and we’re lost in one another again.

When my nerves connect with my brain again, I pull out of her and semen spills with the vacuum left behind my cock. I quickly undo the ties, and unbuckle the cuffs confining my wife. I rub her legs encouraging circulation. Next, I take off the ball gag, and finally her blindfolds. “Welcome back,” I murmur with a warm gaze. “How was that for total surrender?”

“Kinkiest fuckery I ever had,” she says with awe in her gaze. “And it was simply heaven,” she adds with heavy lids, yawning. “Just hold me now, husband.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I say and wrap my arms around her torso, spooning her. Her hands go to her belly, and mine covers hers, protecting the life we created together; our baby. Muse - Can't Take my Eyes off of You

CHAPTER XVIII Love and Marriage Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your heart or burn down your house, you can never tell.

Joan Crawford

It has been nearly three days since we’ve had an appointment with Flynn, and three days since my attempt to teach Anastasia control through total submission. It was the scariest, yet one of the most sensual experiences we have both have experienced by far. I don’t know if I would try it at this intensity again. I wouldn’t have attempted had I not been freaked out with the bewilderment she was feeling. The ‘up the creek without a paddle’ look on her face when I asked her to wait for me with Taylor and Sawyer in Flynn’s office shook me to my core. Our emotions feed off of one another that if one of us is despair, it puts the other one on a tail spin. I’m Lost Without You - Sting

Anastasia has enjoyed her experience despite my fears, but she added that she could try it again without the ball gag, upgrading it from soft limit to hard limit. And that was the kinkiest fuckery she’s ever had which apparently was beyond life affirming, assuaging all of my distressed male egos. But, I still can’t stop alarming about the paparazzi ambush and harassment. Teaching Anastasia how to deal with them is not enough; their attacks have to be stopped at the source. And it’s Welch’s job to determine that. He said he has some information to share. Worrying about what his findings might be is also gnawing at my mind big time; all kind of scenarios are running through my head and none of them are good. I pace my study a few times, wearing a virtual track on my floor. Then I stand before the floor to ceiling window, I gaze into the distance without seeing. Finally the orange lights of the approaching sunset in the sliver of the horizon behind the cityscape bathe Seattle in its warmth and help ease something inside of me. Welch’s supposed to be bringing me a file and discuss the findings, and he’s not here yet. There’s a knock on my door and Taylor appears at my study. “Is Welch here?” I ask tersely. “No, sir. I wanted to discuss something else before he got here.” I nod to give him a go ahead. Taylor clears his throat. Lately, he too has been stressed and nervous which usually doesn’t show on his face. He takes a deep breath and looks up at me. “What’s in your mind Taylor?” I ask as I sit in my chair. “Mr. Grey, as you know we have nine days left to my wedding. I wanted to discuss the security for the wedding I have allocated for you and Mrs. Grey as well as how your daily security would be handled in my absence.” “You’re taking full two weeks, right?” I ask. “Gail and I decided that that we can honeymoon a week then when things are calmer, we can just take another extended first anniversary vacation. But, I’d prefer that Gail gets her two full weeks off.” “We can manage in your absence Taylor. Take the time off. It’s your honeymoon for God’s sake!” I chide him. I don’t want the guilt of cutting a couple’s honeymoon in half. My former self wouldn’t know the difference, but since I’ve had an amazing honeymoon with the love of my life, I can’t deny that experience to the two of the best employees I’ve got. Have things got so tangled up lately that head of my security doesn’t feel comfortable enough to even want to take his full honeymoon? Fuck! Lately,

my fuckeduppedness is catching up with all of us and I don’t want this to become the story of my life. These problems have to be resolved. Sooner rather than later. The Book of my Life - Sting “No, sir. I am in constant contact with Welch as well as Mr. Pella. I think it’s best that we take one week off. Ryan and Sawyer are capable, but I would like one other security on board in my absence. Welch has sent me a few candidates. I will look them over and recommend you two among them, sir.” “How about the additional female security detail for Mrs. Grey?” “I have examined a few candidates’ bios. There’s one ex-Secret Service who guarded one of the first ladies who is currently in Pella’s personal detail. She comes with high recommendations from Welch and Pella both. She protected a particularly picky first lady who was very much into her privacy. She has managed to do her job but also gave the first lady as much freedom of movement as her station would allow while protecting her from constant daily threats.” “Why did she leave the Secret Service if she was very good at her job?” “When they’re very good at their jobs, they’re noticed by well-paying private security. She wouldn’t leave her position for all the perks of serving the first family, but Mr. Pella is an expert in luring the best of the best.” “Is she still on his payroll?” “For the time being, but he is willing to give her on loan until this threat is gone,” he says emphasizing ‘on loan’. That means Pella doesn’t want to part with her services. “What’s her name?” I ask, and Taylor extends me her file. I open the file up and peruse her qualifications. Name: Melissa Tiber There is a laminated picture of her. Red hair, blue eyes. She’s wearing white shirt with black pants suit. Her hands are tied behind her back. She’s looking ahead with a stoic expression.

“Taylor, when was this picture taken?” She looks to be no more than 25 in the picture, but this couldn’t be. “This report says that she served Mrs. Clinton on her husband’s second term. His second term was between 97-2001. It’s been 10 years since he’s been out of the office. She’s about 39 years old, will be 40 this year. Are you sure she’s physically capable to carry out duties expected of her? Or is Pella playing a joke on me?” I ask frowning. “It’s a current picture, sir. Taken within this year. And, no, Mr. Pella is not playing a joke, Mr. Grey. Miss Tiber is remarkable. I’ve never seen anything like it. Mr. Pella would never part with her services because she’s almost the same caliber as Anthony Decimus which is why she is only on loan. She’s been in his service for a long time. I have her performance on video on the thumb drive. This is their weekly workout regimen and just been recorded within the past month,” he says and hands me a thumb drive. I take the thumb drive Taylor extends me and give him a skeptic glance. “Let’s see this and get it out of the way,” I say impatiently and insert the thumb drive to my laptop. I wake my screen up by moving my mouse and locate the thumb drive. Double clicking on the video icon, I sit back and watch the video my arms crossed. Taylor takes his place in the corner, but he can see the video as well as I can. There are four people training in the workout session: three males and one female. All the faces of the male trainees are blurred. I turn to Taylor raising a quizzical eyebrow, and he shrugs. “Mr. Pella doesn’t like to make the identity of his men known.” Two minutes into the video I can see that they’re working on muscle exhaustion with number of pull-ups, pushups and sit-ups. I know the drill; they’re playing with pain. I lean in with interest. This is the key to mental toughness, because you can become tougher by working out harder to get your body an increased ability to build its pain tolerances without getting yourself injured. Then we watch them running, swimming or rucking for miles. “This is military training,” I note. “Wait till you see them training in the miserable water and air temperatures,” Taylor say with just an excited fluctuation of his voice and that is as much excitement as Taylor will show which is the equivalent of a cartwheel of a normal excited person. “Ok. I’m sold. She’s hired pending her interview. Have her come to the Escala tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, sir.” There’s a knock on the door just when my Blackberry buzzes. I check the caller ID as Taylor answers the door. “Hi mom,” I answer the phone. Taylor's holding his finger indicating one minute whoever is on the other side of the door. “Darling, I’m sorry to disturb you this evening, but I am calling you early enough before you make any plans for Thanksgiving. I know we always celebrated together but now that you’re married; I didn’t know whether you wanted to celebrate it there at your own place on your first Thanksgiving with Ana. But since she’s pregnant and not feeling so well, I thought I’d save her the burden, so I’m inviting you both here for Thanksgiving.” “It’s about 20 days away mom, but I think we can come. Although I don’t know if Ana wants to visit her dad.” “Oh, we can invite Ray as well. He’s family after all.” “Great! I’ll let Ana know and she can give you her father’s phone number. I’m sorry to cut you short, mom, but I got a meeting coming up right now.” “Meeting? At nearly 8:00 p.m. in the evening? Darling, you have a young pregnant wife and you’re newly married. You should cut them short.” “Yes, mother. But, Ana’s taking a nap. She’s been in need of two naps lately. And don’t worry, I’m keeping an eye on her,” I sigh, trying not to sound exasperated. “Alright then, give my love to her. Love you sweetheart!” “Love you, too, mom,” I say and nod at Taylor to let Welch in. “Good evening Mr. Grey,” he says extending his hand. I take his proffered hand and shake it. “Welch,” I nod. “What do you have for me that couldn’t wait till tomorrow?” “The connection from Miss Kavanagh’s wedding planner.”

“I’m listening…” I say and as I indicate a chair for him to sit. He takes a seat after placing a file on my desk. “We managed to narrow the suspects down to one person. The wedding planner Janet Schiller recently got involved with a man. We believe that this is the man who leaked the private conversation Mrs. Grey was having with Miss Kavanagh.” My eyes grow cold with this revelation. “Who is he and how can you be sure that he was the one?” “Miss Schiller stated that she has not heard from him after we have questioned her and the staff. He’s the only one who was left to be questioned. We’ve gotten a name and address for him, but the name as well as the address turned out to be fake. The date they started seeing one another is right after Mr. and Mrs. Kavanagh made a deposit for her services as Miss Kavanagh’s wedding planner.” “What was the boyfriend’s name?” “He called himself Eric Fawkes.” “Eric Fawkes?” The name doesn’t ring bell. “What else can you tell me about this Eric Fawkes?” Welch leans back in his chair. Placing his elbows on the arms of the chair, he steeples his hands. Then he gives a cursory glance at Taylor. Taylor’s face looks stoic, but his jaw tightens. “What do you two know that I don’t?” I ask growing impatient. “Do you know who Guido Fawkes is, sir?” Welch asks. I rack my brain for the name and a matching face. Nothing comes up from my acquaintances. “No one I know, but the only person with that moniker was rebel fighting for the Spanish to assassinate King James and restore a Catholic monarch to the throne of England in 1600.” “One and the same,” Welch says nodding. “Great! So, an English rebel from 1600s who was executed I might add is now releasing information about my wife’s pregnancy to the press?” I ask sarcastically, growing impatient.

Welch, chastised, clears his throat. “No, sir. It’s just one part of the puzzle. We only have the character traits, a physical description and a fake name which may give a wealth of information on the character or the intent of the perp. We are trying to build his profile while we are still searching his identity. Currently, he seems to be three steps ahead of us.” “You said one part of the puzzle. What’s the rest?” “As you have noticed, the name I gave you was Eric Fawkes. Not Guido Fawkes. It took us a while to put those pieces together but, it clicked after Miss Schiller revealed something. The day he supposedly ran into Mrs. Grey and Miss Kavanagh from a distance, Mr. fake Fawkes muttered something under his breath. Miss Schiller couldn’t be sure whether he actually said it, or misunderstood.” “What did he say?” I hiss, slamming my hands down on the table having grown completely impatient. To their credit, neither man jumps, but slightly flinches. “He muttered, ‘the only verdict is vengeance…’ and kissed Miss Schiller and departed. But before he left, Miss Schiller asked what he said and he told her he was trying to remember the lyrics from a song.” “What does that mean?” “That’s a line from a movie Mr. Grey. V for Vendetta,” Taylor blurts out. “Only, it’s not a song. It’s a movie line.” “Are you absolutely sure?” I ask Taylor. I quickly make a mental note to re-watch the movie to understand the concept again. “Yes, Mr. Grey. I checked it. The full line is ‘The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta,

held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous,’” says Taylor. I jump up from my seat and go to the window, gaze out the city of Seattle, now in the cover of the night, only illuminated by city lights like an intricate diamond necklace. I exhale a frustrated, angry breath.

“I ask again: Are you both absolutely sure? How can a man who is going after my wife talk of vindicating the vigilant and virtuous?” “There’s more. He never said the rest of the lines. We just verified it. But there was another character on the movie named Eric Finch who was the chief of New Scotland Yard and the Minister of Investigations in the same movie. It is as if he is identifying himself with two characters on opposite sides of the law. We know that he has military background. It’s in his demeanor,” Welch explains. “We have created a profile. What emerged is an ex-military who may have turned into a hired gun or a mercenary.” “What?” I turn to face him immediately. “Are you absolutely sure?” “Nothing is set in stone, Mr. Grey, but I had asked Pella to review the profile we’ve created. He agrees with our findings. We’ve checked the video feed from the surveillance, but he was very careful to not to give a full profile. We only have grainy images with only top of his head showing. Miss Schiller gave us a description of his profile and other measurements and descriptive marks; we now have a sketch. We’ve pulled some strings, and running his profile in various databases. Sawyer confirms that he looks like the man that was present when Mrs. Grey was at the establishment. People do take interest in you time to time, but for him to go to such lengths as if to study his subjects,” he says making me flinch, “requires the involvement of others. Clearly, he doesn’t know you well. He’s trying to get to know you. That means, it’s not personal. He’s doing it for somebody else.” “You conclude that he’s not working for himself,” I state. It’s not a question. “That’s our consensus. We have a list of suspects who has the motive and the money to hire such a man, but the list is led by two: Hyde and Lincoln. We have guards and couple of prisoners paid to keep an eye on Hyde. He’s shrewd. The day he went to jail, he beat some head honcho up to establish his place in the prison hierarchy.” That reminds me something else. There’s an upcoming court date, and I absolutely don’t want to put Anastasia through the pain of testifying in court. “Taylor, talk to my fucking lawyers. I don’t care what they have to do; I want them to make sure that Mrs. Grey doesn’t have to testify at the court. And I want that bastard to be locked up for a very long time!” “Yes, sir.”

“But Hyde doesn’t have the money to hire someone. He didn’t even have the money to pay for his own bail. He would not be…” “He’s very smart and very resourceful Mr. Grey. We’re going to continue to keep tabs on him. Lincoln is being tailed but he has jammers in his house, so the phone conversations he makes are made on secured lines so far. There’s also that missing 53 million Dollars. That’s a substantial amount of money. If we track the money, we track the trail of the perpetrator.” “When do you come back from your honeymoon?” I ask turning to Taylor. He tries to hide a smile. “November 19th sir.” “Will you be out of country?” “Yes sir, I have emailed you our itinerary. We’ll be in the Caribbean.” I start pacing in my study. Taylor will be gone in nine days. We will either have to find who was following Anastasia or determine his identity by then. “You have one week to determine his identity, or find him, Welch!” “Sir, I don’t know if that’s enough time.” “I don’t care how you have to come by that information, Welch. I want him identified and caught. And Taylor, let all the security members know, Mrs. Grey doesn’t get to take any unscheduled trips without my approval.” “Uhm… sir.” “Clearly there’s an unknown danger… If my security has a problem performing their jobs, now is the time to let me know, Taylor!” I hiss. “No, sir,” he says shaking his head. He’s worried that Ana’s going to defy them. I’ll take care of that problem. The door to my study opens, and Ana stands at the threshold, smiling. Her face falls when she sees Welch in my office.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company, Christian. Am I interrupting a meeting?” “Mrs. Grey,” says Welch standing up, smiling at Anastasia in greeting. “No ma’am, I was just leaving. Good evening, Mr. Grey, Mrs. Grey,” he says nodding. “Mr. Grey, I’ll contact you tomorrow, sir,” he says as he reaches the door. Taylor walks him out. “What was that all about?” she asks. I exhale slowly. “Just security issues,” I say shrugging. “How are you feeling this evening Mrs. Grey?” “Well rested, husband. Just a bit hungry.” “Hungry? Let’s go feed you and the Blip,” I say trying to distance her from my study. “Come here,” I say as I walk around my desk. She grins and runs towards me, quickly closing the distance between us and jumps into my embrace. “Slow down baby. We don’t want you getting hurt,” I chide her as I hold her up in my arms. She worries her bottom lip between her teeth with my admonishment. “Don’t bite that lip, baby,” I whisper and take her lip into my mouth and suck it making my wife moan. The sound of her pleasure and her willingly offered lips are inviting me to kiss her deeply, leisurely, exploring her mouth anew. Her tongue meets mine, caressing, tangling and moving in a sensual dance.

My hand moves under her t-shirt, moving up her growing curves, and finally finds her straining nipples as she laces her legs around my torso. I groan in pleasure. I feel my erection growing, searching for her sex. She rocks her hips up and down over my erection. I can’t help but match her rhythm. “Jesus Christ, Ana!” My wife has become an insatiable seducer of her husband. A low growl escapes my lips, my tongue glides down to her neck, then up reaching the shell of her ear.

“Christian! Don’t tease!” she begs as if she is unable to bear another second of not being taken. “Desk!” she shouts. “Yes, ma’am!” I slip her off my waist. Just as I’m about to sweep the papers off my desk to make room for the desk sex we both desperately need, Anastasia surprises me with her bewildered remark. Putting her index finger on the drawing, she raises her eyebrows and asks. “Why do you have a drawing of Janet’s boyfriend?” “Janet’s boyfriend?” I ask. “Yeah. Janet is Kate’s wedding planner. I’ve seen Janet twice with Kate since I’m her maid of honor, remember?” she says rolling her eyes. I narrow my gaze to admonish her but also nod at her to continue. “You should remember her name because you’ve questioned me about it only a few days ago.” “I would remember it had you mentioned it, but I’m pretty sure you didn’t.” “Oh, I thought I did. I only remember the boyfriend, because he came to steal kiss from his girlfriend which Mia and Kate thought was pretty romantic and he was trying to make out with her behind the curtain but as I told you three days ago, she shooed him away. But what I forgot to tell you is that he drove the van that brought some samples to Mr. and Mrs. Kavanagh’s house last week only because Kate was ordering her plates from a wedding catalogue Janet had. Mrs. Kavanagh didn’t like the samples they had in the showroom.” “What? Why? Why would nobody tell us that?” I hiss. She gives me a confused look.

“Spring wedding. They only had the décor for the fall and winter weddings on the floor. They had the spring motif plates in their warehouse because there’s only enough space for samples on the showroom floor. That’s why!” she says narrowing her eyes, growing impatient. “He was helping Janet I guess.” “How did you come by that information?” “Why the sudden interest in Kate and Elliot’s wedding planning, Christian? You wouldn’t even come to taste the food for our wedding,” she says, hurt. “And I’m not interested in Kate’s serving plates or cutlery to be used in her wedding, trust me. I’m sorry baby, but this is important.” She narrows her eyes on me so tight; you could blindfold her with dental floss. She finally sighs. “Kate said that her wedding planner’s boyfriend was overly attentive of his girlfriend and very charming, helpful, had a good eye for coordination and made suggestions that both Mrs. Kavanagh and Kate liked.” “Why would they be listening to the boyfriend and not the wedding planner?” I spew again. “They didn’t know he was the boyfriend at first. They assumed he was one of the assistants. They only learned that he was her boyfriend last week when he came by to the showroom. He was very much at ease, confident and had expensive tastes that Mrs. Kavanagh was accustomed to.” “Why wouldn’t you tell me that before?” My voice is sharp and angry. “Christian, why are you angry with me for not sharing the details of Kate’s wedding planning?” she says stepping back. “My husband is mad at me because I didn’t tell him of Kate’s observations about her wedding planner and her boyfriend! I didn’t know you’d be that interested in my best friend’s and your brother’s fiancée’s life!” she says furrowing her eyebrows, her hands on her hips now. I close my eyes and run an exasperated hand through my hair. Her blue eyes widen and darken in fury. Yes, someone that sweet can be spectacularly angry. I blink rapidly at her false assumption as I try to find words to explain myself. She is furious, vexed and wounded.

“I’m not interested in anything about Katherine or her wedding. I think that much should be clear to you, Ana. The supposed boyfriend of the wedding planner is a suspect. Welch is certain that he’s the one who leaked the private conversation you and Katherine had about your pregnancy. We want to find him, but he seems to be broken up with the wedding planner after having gotten whatever information he was looking for,” I say with tightly controlled anger and frustration. She lets out an exacerbated breath, and crosses her arm, in a gesture of closing herself to me. “Oh, that’s my fault now? I can’t even have a conversation with my best friend in a relatively private environment?” she looks at me with her big blue eyes completely crushed as if I stabbed her and opened a giant wound in her heart. By the look of her face I can see that my words fueled by my fear for her well-being are expanding the fissure in her heart. “Please baby,” I plead with her in the softest tone of voice I can muster, “that’s why Welch had a late night house call. I’m going out of my mind, because I couldn’t take it… I just couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you both!” I whisper fervently and there it is: The core of my fear. Anastasia’s eyes soften, she finally lowers her arms from her hips and opens them up, welcoming me, and I walk into them with relief. We stand there holding each other for long minutes. I desperately need to get inside her, feel the connection, and know that we really are okay. But with a herculean effort, I restrain myself for fear of the possibility of my old habits might come back and it may still turn our lovemaking into a punishment fuck for withholding that information. I have to be content with just feeling her in my arms for the time being. My mind is going crazy, driving me insane that there is a vigilante out there, a maniac who is blatantly indicating that he’s anonymous with the moniker he’s using. It hits me then. If it’s not him who is following Ana, he is inadvertently saying, taunting us that he can be replaced by someone else. That means I have to find his boss. I kiss the top of Ana’s head. I have to do something about it, and do it right away. “Ana, why don’t you go and see what Mrs. Jones fixed for dinner/ I’ll have to make one more phone call and be out as soon as I can. Oh, can you also give my mom a call? She’s inviting us to Thanksgiving dinner and she wants Ray’s phone number to invite him as well.” The mention of Thanksgiving takes her mind off sex momentarily. “Thanksgiving? Oh, this will be our first Thanksgiving together.” Her face falls.

“What?” I ask lifting her chin up. She shrugs. “It was always a lonely holiday, either with Ray, or with mom. I have always imagined it with a large group of family, laughing, carrying on. Just never was like that…” her voice trails off. “Well, now you will. We’ll even host the family for Thanksgiving next year in the big house, what do you say to that Mrs. Grey?” She grins. “Yes! I’ll go call your mom.” She turns to run towards the door, but I capture her hand and pull her back to me. Tugging Anastasia back into my embrace and just I hold her tight. I tilt her head up to me, angling it just the right way and capture her lips, kissing her with all I’ve got. Her hands are tugging my hair, desperate for one another, leaving both of us breathless. Our kiss makes me move out of my body, lose my senses, as if I don’t exist in my head and I’m united with her someplace else; embodying one another. The urgency of my kiss slows and leaves intensity in its place. Neither one of us dares to break our connection; we remain frozen as my warm lips continue to our move over her soft and wet lips. My fingertips hold her face in place, tenderly floating over her soft cheeks.

When we separate, I put my forehead over hers closing my eyes; we’re both in awe of each other. She smiles at me shyly as she turns to go, and slap her behind making her yelp. As soon as Anastasia closes the door behind her, I dial. After four rings, he picks up the phone.

“Good evening Christian,” he answers the phone. “John, I need to talk to you.” “Can we do it over the phone? I just put the kids down, and my wife went out with her girlfriends. I’m on babysitting duty.” “Yes, that’s fine.” “What can I help you with tonight, Christian?” I exhale deeply and close my eyes. “There may be someone following my wife as a means to get to me. I’m freaking out, my security is handling it, but I may have to…” “…go overboard?” John asks cutting me. “That’s not what I was going to say, but essentially, yes.” I can sense him shaking his head on the phone with a grim look on his face. “The man went to lengths to date Kate Kavanagh’s wedding planner in order to get close to my wife. He gained access to the Kavanagh household. Ana goes there to help Katherine out for her wedding because she’s the Maid of Honor.” “Are you planning to pull Ana out of the wedding?” “I thought about it. But Ana would never forgive me if I did that. And, she probably wouldn’t listen. I would try to get her to listen…punishments.” That’s not a viable option. It’ll blow up on my face. “She’s pregnant, and her hormones are making her too emotional, physically tired, and she’s Ana. Stubborn as ever. If I forbid her to do something, she generally finds a way to do it anyway, or do it secretly. If I punish her and I will feel absolutely shitty about it, and she’d be mad at me for a long time. So, I’m up the creek without a paddle! Tell me what to do!” I plead. “Give her some freedom, Christian. You cannot completely isolate her. She’s a pregnant woman for heaven’s sake.” “I just ordered my security detail that she can’t make any unscheduled trips without my knowledge.” “When you say unscheduled trips, do you mean trips requiring travel out of the city, or trips within the city limits?”

“Both.” “Not even to the coffee shop?” “She doesn’t drink coffee.” “Tea then.” “Yes, tea shops, delis, sandwich shops, bars and restaurants are included.” “That’s a big problem.” “Why would that be? I’ll take her out. She just can’t do it by herself. Isn’t her and baby’s safety important over her outings?” I hear Flynn’s deep exasperated exhale. “Christian, you’re going to stress her out big time! And in layman’s terms, stress isn’t good for a pregnant woman which is going to be the least of your worries, by that I mean it is still a giant problem. Stress increases the risk of pre-term labor, low birth weight and a host of other problems for babies after birth. If you stress her out, you’re going to put her at highest risk of complication, because it’s a silent disease. Fetus responds to stimuli in the womb and adapts physiologically. When the mother to be is stressed, she’ll experience several biological changes including the elevation of stress hormones and increased likelihood of intrauterine infection. The fetus in response builds itself permanently and once the baby is born, he or she may be at greater risk for a whole bunch of stress related pathologies. So, not only as your shrink, but as your friend, I am fervently recommending you not to excessively put Ana at risk of stress!” I am rudderless once again. “You’re scaring me John. I’ve never dealt with pregnancy before…” I close my eyes. “As much as I am in awe of it, that there is a life made up me and Anastasia she’s carrying, I’ve been worried that how it made her sick. I came so very close asking her to have an abortion because she had severe morning sickness. I think it was her doctor that said it can happen to some women and somewhat still normal. It was immensely difficult to take it day by day to see some sort of improvement to hold onto. And she is a stubborn, hard headed woman who drives me insane because we both want to get our way. She wants to go to work, and I wanted to keep an eye on her while she was getting better. It took a lot of convincing. Then she had ravenous sexual appetite but I didn’t want to hurt her or the baby…” I continue.

“Didn’t that make you happy? It’s one of the perks of pregnancy. A large percentage of women get increased sexual appetite during pregnancy once they get over their morning sickness, or even during morning sickness.” “That’s precisely the point. Because she would have morning sickness one day so horribly that it would dehydrate her and the next day she’d be ravenous for me. I didn’t want her to be turned off. The slightest scent of a favorite food is now disgusting to her. Honestly, I think I’m developing sympathy pains for her, because I find myself worried whether something is going to make her ill, or will something inconsequential upset her. On top of that, this paparazzi plague. I’m having SIP build an underground parking structure so that Anastasia will not have to deal with future attacks but it will take at least 3 months to complete the parking structure and that’s a long time.” “You’d do that for? How did you get the permit from the city? Generally it takes three years from the city of Seattle to get any permit for a large scale structure.” “Elliot’s company has a reputation of minimizing the impact to the environment. The building I purchased next door had used asbestos back in late 60s and it’s a health hazard. So, I’m actually doing the city a favor by removing that structure, and building something more environmentally friendly and solving the parking problem for a couple of companies.” “But wouldn’t that open the doors for some unwanted unchecked individual from another company to approach Ana?” “I solved that already. SIP employees will have a different entrance. It’s completely isolated from the other entrances, and the employees must be identified by their badges before they can enter, every vehicle will be recorded. The underground parking will only belong to SIP. “Ana wants normalcy. I want to gift her that as much as my position would allow. It can never be like she’s completely under the radar if she was with someone who is not Christian Grey, but I would really want to give that to her, and I will, but I have to take certain measures to make it happen.” “Christian, look, I get it that you need to have her safe and secure. Countries have presidents, and they too have families. I’m sure those first families suffer from the forced security and a host of restrictions on their freedom of movement that they may

have formerly enjoyed. But instead of restricting Ana to have nearly no freedom, determine how you can compromise; give her a little bit of the rein and you’ll see that she’ll start cooperating with you more because she becomes part of the decision making instead of having decisions made for her. Make her familiar with the established rules, so she knows the situations where her decisions will be bypassed for her safety. I’m sure the Secret Service had a similar talk with any president and his family taking over the office. She can’t know which way is up or down if you have never established a concrete ground and a ceiling for her, the parameters in which she can move and have freedom.” I fall silent. Of course! I have had rules in the bedroom, hard and soft limits. Why can’t I establish those outside of the bedroom? We have tossed the book outside the window, but her hard and soft limits still exist. I mull it in my head. “Christian, are you still there?” “Yes, I’m here. I do have the rules for her safety. I tell her whether she can go someplace or not, and that it’s for her safety.” Flynn does a ‘pfff!’ sound on the phone. “That won’t do. You’re only giving her a stepping stone. Think of it as a tiny island in a pond made up of distant stepping stones only. The next place of movement is leaps and bounds away. That’s all she’s got; when you have no ground to walk on, it will not work.” “Okay,” I acquiesce with no ease. I tell myself that I’m not giving up control. I’m just establishing hard and soft limits outside of the bedroom. Those are terms I can identify myself with. Giving up control is not something I could agree on, but for Ana, I’d do anything, including giving up control. My Blackberry vibrates in my hand; incoming text. “Thank you John.” “Good night Christian. Welcome to fatherhood. It starts in the womb,” he says before hanging up. I check my text message. *Dinner is served, Mr. Grey. Your loving wife and & Blip* ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

It’s already Sunday. Gail is out to her sister as she always does on the weekends. The last two days gave me time to think making me realize that I’m giving in to threats outside and making everyone’s lives miserable, including my wife’s. I hired one Miss Melissa Tiber to add Anastasia’s protection detail. Let me correct that. She’s on loan from Alex Pella’s private detail until this perpetrator is caught or until she disobeys specific commands like Prescott did. She impresses me like a female version of Taylor. All of that to be determined starting Monday. The interview with her was both educational and refreshing after weeks of frustration with the paparazzi attacks on Anastasia. I felt like coming up to the surface from drowning for a precious lifesaving breath and have been breathing since. This is why I’m about to do what I plan for Gail and Taylor.

“Miss Tiber you came with high recommendations but it means nothing to me. I’m not like your other clients you have worked for. Should I hire you, you will report to Sawyer but I’m the master and commander of this domain; I set the rules and you follow them without question. I leave no room for errors, and I’m not forgiving. First mistake gets you fired. When it comes to Mrs. Grey’s security, I accept no excuses.” To her credit, she doesn’t look at me with a surprised ‘Grey is an ass!’ look, not that I would care one bit. “I expect nothing less Mr. Grey. What are your ground rules and ceiling in which Mrs. Grey can move?” “You will get the proscribed list, but that is to be determined if I’m convinced you’re the right person for the job. The people who should never under any circumstances approach Mrs. Grey and those who can are all on the list; you’d do well to acquaint yourself with those and know the difference. Currently, I only want her to go to work in safety, eat in her office, and promptly bring her back home after work unless of course I am meeting her after work to pick her up. You would accompany her to her doctor’s visits, do the sweeps, acquaint yourself with the people she can see and under no circumstances she can meet with them if they’re not on the schedule. Her assistant Hannah will provide you with a copy of her weekly schedule, daily if there are any changes. You will get to know the people working at SIP, and accompany her to every meeting, follow her every step even if she has to go to pee. Are we clear on that?” She doesn’t even blink, but the look that says ‘control freak’ flickered on her gaze momentarily then gone. But when she started to speak, she spoke with professionalism, experience and patience. “Mr. Grey, Mrs. Grey can enjoy a level of freedom with minimal stress that her station brings to her if you utilize the three rings of security designed for the heads of state,” she

said in experienced unwavering confidence. She then turned to Welch, and added, “for corporate clients, it’s much more effective to have just the close security and sweeps prior a visit. But, during perceived dangers as is the case for your current concern, you can place the type of security I’m going to recommend and that will not eliminate Mrs. Grey’s freedom of movement unless of course the danger is imminent.” “Are you trying to bypass my rules even before I interview you? May I remind you that you are hired yet?” I scold her with an icy gaze. Both Welch and Taylor hold their breaths. “Mr. Grey, what you have stated allows no freedom of movement to the protectee. I guarantee you that it will be Mrs. Grey who would be doing the firing before lunch. In either case, I won’t last half a day because one of you will end up firing me. My purpose here is to keep Mrs. Grey safe while not suffocating her so she doesn’t feel the need to give me the slip. Because, if people feel that their freedom is snuffed out, suppressed or eliminated, it is natural for them to get into the panic mode and consequently the very same panic or rebellion can even cause them to run or fall into the clutches of the very dangers you’re trying to protect her from.” I take a deep breath and walk around my desk towering before her five feet eight inches frame. She didn’t appear to be perturbed or intimidated. “Explain to me how you know this before you even worked a day for me. Have you been forewarned?” I asked, making Welch shift in his seat uncomfortably under my burning gaze. “Mr. Grey, please give me some credit to know my job. I have been trained by the best and worked with only the most elite security in the world though you have some of the best protection available anywhere. Nearly 99% of the time, all you need is close protection. But since there is a perceived danger here, I’m recommended to you to protect Mrs. Grey because of my expertise in the field; I have experience in protecting high profile, controversial individual who must be in the public eye constantly who also has daily and multiple threats. My job is to protect them while not eliminating their personal freedoms within the allocated protective bubble the security team and I create for the protectee. Clearly, you have capable close security, but when there are two security details per person, it is possible for them to create a ring of two. But, nothing is foolproof as you have experienced when Miss Grey was kidnapped to lure Mrs. Grey. If Miss

Grey’s security was even two rings or layers, when she eluded her close security, the second ring…” she said. I cut of off with a quizzical look. “You lost me.” “Close security is the first parameter: It’s your wall of flesh that wraps the protectee in a nearly bullet proof bubble. Then you have another level of parameter at a certain interval. We are trained and tasked protecting a moving target as shields.” She draws an imaginary circle in the air. The description actually made me flinch inwardly. “Mr. Welch, if you please,” she said and stood him up. “I, as his close protection would make the first circle, first layer of protection, and his nearly bulletproof wall of flesh. Let’s assume that Mr. Welch decided to elude me. Taylor outside the door would make the second circle, granted that Taylor swept his circle’s parameters of all perceived threats creating a second circle of safe zone virtually free of threats. The last circle is the buffer zone against penetrations. And let’s assume that you have Sawyer outside of the building of Escala who takes his own parameter; the third circle and your buffer zone. Our job is to identify and eliminate the threats before it happens. We worry about it, so you don’t. It should not be Mrs. Grey’s job to stress out with the fear of constant danger or that she ought not be suffocated because her circle is too tight, sir,” she said in confidence. “How do you propose to do that Miss Tiber?” I ask leaning back to my desk. If she can convince me, this can create the compromise I desperately need for Anastasia. “Mr. Grey, if the parameter between first and second ring can be tightly controlled as in a moving circle, she can have a degree of freedom within a given course. Think of a safety bubble; she’ll be tucked within it.” “What about the very real, very dangerous threat we have present out there?” “Given who you are, there is always going to be a threat Mr. Grey. Having someone following you every step of the way can be very annoying at the least and very claustrophobic for every person who may feel the unbearable urge to break loose. Mrs. Grey is no exception. However, part of the security is also in the investigation. Mr. Welch has all the necessary tools and men with threat assessment abilities; but we are also ready and willing to lend a hand on the investigation since you have a perceived and imminent threat. Freedom of movement and security are like water and oil. You have to

have a good blender to mix it: that’s the duty of your security detail. My job is to make her life as normal as I can even though she is protected twenty-four hours of every day.” “You may find Mrs. Grey very different than other people you have protected. She makes last minute decisions, she may tell me that she won’t do something knowing full well that she is going to do it, she is compulsive, at times her sense of self-preservation doesn’t kick in and to top that she may give you the slip while preoccupying you with something else. She may completely disregard her own safety in a heroic but self-destructive effort to solve a security problem that would take a team of professionals to resolve. What do you propose to do in that situation?” I asked her as Sawyer turned beet red, remembering. “I see. She’s prone to OTRs then,” Miss Tiber says calmly. “I beg your pardon?” “Off The Record… Unannounced stops a protectee makes; get off the vehicle when it’s not scheduled, unpredictable, unscripted, and mostly unwelcome situations for the security detail. Working protection in this environment is one of the most stressful jobs we do; unannounced stops, detours to meet the people who are not on any list, unknowns who could very well be potential threats. In those situations we have no choice but to follow the protectee. It can be mind numbing when the protectee is always in environments with many unknowns but I am trained to keep off complacency by maintaining focus, keeping my eyes on the ball. I am trained to know that things that may seem mundane or routine quickly turn to challenging nightmares especially if the protectee is in the habit of breaking the security protocol. There can be no distraction for us and it comes down to discipline.” “Now answer my previous question,” I probe with a placid face. “Every protectee is different, sir. We have to balance the protectee’s desire to be in the crowd and still have the security measures in check. They each have their own mannerism and expectations. I am trained to be able to adapt to those and our security methodology. Your security detail is that blender of those non-mixing mediums, sir. But, my job should you hire me isn’t parenting or supervising Mrs. Grey or tell her what to do or what not to do unless it’s an emergency situation of course. I’m here to make sure that she’s not kidnapped, shot, killed, or held for ransom. If we are given enough notice of her schedule, we can even make sure she can have a relative sense of freedom, or illusion

of being in public. But, all in all, I understand that the life inside the bubble is very suffocating for many of the protectees.” “Before I hire you, understand that you are in our service 24/7. Your priority is not anyone else, anything else, boyfriend, husband, child, parents, siblings or significant others. You will not have a day off until Taylor gets back from his honeymoon.” “Yes, sir.” I am very impressed with her confidence and the muscle memory I observed in her training videos. “Miss Tiber, one more thing before I dismiss you.” “Sir?” “No weapons.” She gives a cursory glance at Taylor and Welch without a change in her poker face expression. “I don’t have an itchy trigger finger Mr. Grey. I will check my weapon in within your house. But, I like to keep my weapon outside of the property until the current threat is neutralized. Mrs. Grey should have at least one protection detail with a weapon.” “I’m not compromising on this rule! Take it or leave it,” I say with finality crossing my arms. Both Taylor and Welch turn to Miss Tiber as if watching an interesting tennis match. For the first time she crosses her eyebrows slightly. The tone of her voice doesn’t change, but there’s fire in it as red as her hair. “Mr. Grey,” she says patiently and respectfully, “I carry a weapon because it will be so much faster for me to shoot the bullets into the mercenary or the hired gun who may be on Mrs. Grey’s trail with my weapon than manually inserting them into him. They will not hesitate to carry and use a weapon even against a pregnant woman. I am going to be protecting two lives; there’s no room for a margin of error when it comes to saving their lives. You can check my accuracy and weapons training and safety record with Sawyer and Mr. Welch who has full access to them. The weapon stays with me outside. I will check it in with Taylor within your property. That’s as far as I can compromise.” I stare at her for a full minute with a cold gaze. She’s unperturbed. Then pushing away from my desk, I got ready to dismiss her. Then I remember Taylor’s interview with me. He trusted

his gut instincts, and so does Miss Tiber. I decided that she is the right woman for the job. “Only until the threat is neutralized,” I said to her yesterday. Only because I clearly remember what Hyde was able to do to my sister and my wife… and what else he could do to both of them had Ana not have Leila’s gun. “Thank you, sir.” Both Welch and Taylor get ready to leave my study with Miss Melissa Tiber. “And Miss Tiber,” I call after her. “You talk to me like that again, you’re fired!” “Yes, sir,” she said with a barely perceptible smile. For the first time in weeks, I actually felt better about Anastasia’s safety. Miss Melissa Tiber is like a female version of Jason Taylor. She did not wither under my scrutiny and not only managed to hold her own, but she even became more confident under duress which is an asset. That means she can think and doesn’t fall apart in emergency situations. And this is why I’m calling Gail today, because I feel that Ana is going to be well protected; it’s as if part of a heavy load lifted off my shoulders. “Hi Mr. Grey,” she answers her phone. “Gail, Mrs. Grey and I want to give you and Taylor a wedding gift,” I say without a preamble. “Mr. Grey, you’re already giving us a wedding at Four Seasons. We are already very grateful,” she says kindly. “No, this is different. Since you are going to the Caribbean for your honeymoon, we are giving you both three weeks for your honeymoon in St. Barts, Bahamas, Barbados and Cayman Islands with the jet at your disposal. Taylor only thinks that he has one week off. That’s our surprise to him. I’m letting you know so you can pack for him. Since we’ve had quite a few bad surprises, I think a good surprise would make you and Taylor happy.” I think Gail whimpers silently. I’d rather be fighting five Claude Bastilles than deal with a crying woman! It still makes me feel bewildered.

“I apologize Mr. Grey,” she sniffs. “Such an amazing surprise! I’m very touched, and I know Jason will be grateful as well. Thank you!” Gail and Taylor are my most trusted employees. Giving them some perks will ensure that I can keep them employed years to come. And Anastasia is fond of both of them. Happy wife, happy life and all that…

***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

“Christian!” Anastasia gasps after seeing me in my tuxedo. “You look simply mouthwatering.” “Why Mrs. Grey? Are you trying to seduce me?” I whisper in a husky voice trailing my fingertips on her bare arms. I approach her from behind and gently place my hands on top of her arms. My fingertips seductively skate over her soft skin. Our minimal connection is electric. If I touch her any further, I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to resist the undeniable and primordial urge to claim and take possession of my wife who is oozing with sensuality. Her breath quickens under my touch. My hands slowly slide up from her arms to her shoulders then move over to the swell of her breasts under the silky fabric. Her breast strain and nipples tighten, pushing the dress to merge with my skin. The beating of her heart increases, thumping wildly under my fingertips. I slowly inch into the valley of her breasts skating down to her belly over the soft fabric of her dress. It marvels me that she blooms and glows under my touch.

“Christian…” she whispers leaning her head back to my shoulder. I nuzzle her ear, her cheek and finally glide my nose down, over her alabaster skin of her throat, inhaling her intoxicating scent. I can feel her pulse run erratically; her chest swells up and down in rapid succession with her increased breathing, making me grin with satisfaction in return. One of my hands rests on her belly possessively while my other hand tilts her chin up to merge her lips with mine. When our lips are only a whisper away, I bore my gaze into her eyes, and she closes the distance between our lips. Our kiss starts gently, but flames us both like wildfire, coursing through our veins. I swiftly turn her around and my hand pushes her buttocks into my groin. She hooks one Jimmy Choo clad foot around my leg and rocks into my body. I lift her off the floor and find myself sandwiching my wife between the far wall and my body. When we break our kiss, we are both breathless. “Christian, please!” Anastasia pleads. “It’s been nine days! You haven’t made love to me since playroom,” she complains. My mind is clouded with the memory of that night. “Baby, you’ve been sick off and on. Don’t forget, I now have to keep Dr. Greene on speed dial to hook you up with an IV and three of those days you had to be drip fed, and one of it occurred at SIP! You’ve only been well for the last two consecutive days. I don’t want you getting sick on Taylor and Gail’s wedding day. Besides,” I say checking my watch, “we only have thirty minutes left to leave,” I say completely ignoring of my own craving, and trying to redistribute the tent forming in front of my pants. Her hand glides down to cup my erection and my cock responds with a twitch, anxious to get out and play. But I capture her hand, and take the sting of involuntary and undesired rejection by kissing each and every knuckle and fingertips.

“Just so you know Mr. Grey, when I look at you all dressed up in your tux, with your slightly overlong hair,” she says running gentle caresses with her fingertips, “all I can think of is kissing you, and making love to you. Now, you are taking me to a wedding which you know will get me hot and bothered. Because I’ll be remembering our own wedding day, when you took my wedding dress off, slowly… our joint induction and membership to the mile high club,” she whispers slowly. My breath hitches. I groan and run both my hands through my hair in complete exacerbation. “Mrs. Grey, I’m seduced, and I’m yours. But, I say when and where and how,” I chide running my index finger over her bottom lip. She pulls my finger into her mouth sucks, fellating it, causing my half tamed erection to grow full length again. When I mock chide her, shaking my head, she nips my finger, then soothes the injury of the bite with a kiss. “Fine,” she whispers pushing me away with one hand, “I can’t be held responsible if my husband doesn’t want to touch what is his and deny me what is mine. This is a wedding and there will be other tuxedos to admire…” I don’t let her finish her sentence. “You think I don’t know what you are doing, Mrs. Grey?” I ask through gritted teeth, jealousy overtaking me. “Never forget that you are mine,” I hiss as I pull her into my arms, my lips desperately seek hers, imploring her, worshiping my wife, revering, cherishing, and loving her. Our night in the playroom was beyond spectacular, but I’m deeply worried that something will freak her out because I had to utilize some of her soft limits to teach her control. I pushed her to her absolute limits. I am always going to be a domineering man, but I try not to be that with her, well, most of the time anyway. It is in my nature to be dominant, and it is in her nature to challenge me at every chance she gets. But I want and deeply desire us to be much…much…much more. I’m a man in love, and the object of my affection is pregnant and sick one day and well the other. Her oscillating pregnancy hormones are putting me on the edge, making it hard for me establishing that delicate balance. To top that, Anastasia has a habit of not communicating her fears. Yes, I desperately want to take her on the wall and fuck her fifty ways to Sunday, but we’d be here all day because I won’t even get the edge off in the next half hour. “Tonight, Mrs. Grey. I will sate you to the best of my ability. Now, let’s go and marry Taylor and Gail before I decide to start the fun here and now,” I say and tug her out of our bedroom.

Ryan and Sawyer dressed in tuxedos and Miss Tiber is in an elegant dressy black pantsuit are all waiting for us in the great room. They all take a second look at us. Averting his gaze, Sawyer clears his throat. “Ready, sir?” he asks. “Yes, let’s go.”

***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

The Ballroom at the Four Seasons all decked up, Ballroom East is dressed up with the fall theme elegantly, assigned seats created on both sides of the aisle. I usher Anastasia up the aisle to our assigned seat with Miss Tiber and Sawyer at our tail. The seats are slowly filling up. Ros and her girlfriend sit next to us. Welch and his wife are seated behind our seats. Even Andrea shows up with Barney Sullivan. In fact, I don’t recognize my own IT manager I’ve seen daily nearly for the last five years. I have to give a second look to see if it really is Barney. He lost his oversized glasses and traded them with contact lenses by the looks of it. Because he keeps blinking, not used to the feel of them and he is actually dressed up in a tux that perfectly fits him. Barney is actually quite good looking after someone professionally dressed him up. Andrea is dressed up in an off white chiffon dress. Ros’ eyes light up when she sees the two of them together. She raises her eyebrows questioning them. “Don’t ask! Neither one of us had time to get a date,” Andrea shrugs with a smile holding her clutch in one hand and lending her arm to Barney in the other. They look around for their seats. Ros stands up. “Barney, let me take a look at you!” she gushes. Barney, Taylor and Ros have been employed with me the longest. Andrea is a distant second to them.

“You do clean up handsomely!” she congratulates him. That’s high praise from Ros who is not easily impressed. “The credit is not all to me Ros,” he says smiling. Then leans into her ear and whispers, “I thawed the ice, and got the expert help in wedding attire in return,” he says. “Mr. Grey, Mrs. Grey,” they both greet us as if they just noticed our presence and take their seats behind Ros and her girlfriend. “Hi Gwen!” they both chime and greet each other. Ana smiles at the interactions with some sort of amusement then looks around taking in all the decorations. As the room start filling up with Taylor and Gail’s near and dear, Taylor finally walks up to take his place at the end of the aisle. He looks happy and nervous at the same time. “Mr. Grey, Mrs. Grey, we’re very happy you could come,” he says extending his hand to me.

“Somebody has to make sure you go through it. Just in case, I got your ex-military buddies holding the doors,” I joke. He grins. “One of them was trying to give me the bullshit,” he says, then clears his throat realizing he's in Anastasia’s company, “excuse me, ma’am, I mean teasing me, that he’ll leave the car running outside just in case I decided not to go through with it," he says with distaste. "It took me four years to get her to say 'yes' I wouldn’t change my mind for anything. I just hope that Gail doesn’t change hers. It'd be like getting tackled at the 99 yard line,” he says nervously, giving a distasteful look in the direction of Gail’s sister on the other side of the aisle.

“Congratulations Taylor!” Ana says cheerfully giving him an unexpected hug, making him blush. “Thank you, Mrs. Grey,” he says in a husky voice. “Nice to see Grey!” says a familiar voice. I lean back and finally notice the man behind Taylor who is patiently waiting. “Pella! I didn’t know you were coming!” I say with surprise.

“Me neither,” he replies striding in confident steps towards me extending his hand. When I receive his proffered hand, he takes it in the same manner he always does; the arm clasp. Anastasia looks at us curiously. “But we don’t leave men behind or in need and Taylor was running low on best man options. Some of his brothers in arms are still on missions. Well, here I am,” he says gesturing with his hands as he gives one of his trademark smiles. “Alex, allow me the honor of introducing my wife, Mrs. Anastasia Grey,” I say.

Alex’s gaze turns to Anastasia. To his credit, he doesn’t look anywhere but her face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Grey,” he says and takes Anastasia’s extended hand. Instead of shaking it, he leans down, and kisses the back of her hand and releasing it. “Likewise… Are you by yourself Mr. Pella?” Anastasia asks. “Please, call me Alex, ma’am. Alas, I do not have the honor of the company of a beautiful young lady like Christian here,” he says making Anastasia blush profusely. “May I have you take your places please Mr. Taylor and Mr. Pella?” asks a flustered assistant wedding planner. “Your rendezvous with your much desired ball and chain is upon us,” Alex says to Taylor patting his tuxedo pocket with the rings for the couple as he makes way for him. Then nods at us, “Mrs. Grey, Christian,” and waits for Taylor to follow the flustered assistant wedding planner who seems to have left her motor skills five cups of double espressos ago. Taylor exhales a long breath and moves forward. A flurry of activity can be heard in the back of the ballroom as the music starts with the wedding march as soon as the men and the pastor take their place at the elevated podium. We all turn back to see the procession. It is actually a lot less nerve wrecking to sit in the seats as opposed to be standing where Taylor is. Taylor’s little girl Sophie walks down stoically, her little blonde head held high, focusing on her duty spreading pink and white rose petals on the aisle. When she makes her way up the aisle, she waves at her dad and smiles having succeeded in her task. Then three bridesmaids in the arms of three groomsmen walk down the aisle. Finally, Gail appears dressed in champagne, ankle length dress with folded chiffon and an elegant sash expertly tied on her waist. Her hair is in a soft blonde pile with a small veil to cover her face; she is in the arms of an elderly gentleman. My top security guy, who has been toughened with many wars, looks like he’s going to tear up with the sight of his wife to be.

Pella nods at him, “go on Centurion! All hands on deck!” he says smiling and hitting Taylor on his back with an open palm, making the ex-military guys give out a loud chortle in the back. But I’m surprised at the title Pella uses for Taylor. Centurion title is usually given to an aviator who has made one hundred shipboard landings on one carrier and issued a centurion patch on his flight jacket. I know Taylor can fly, but somehow I think that has a different meaning for the two. Maybe after nearly five years of working for me, there are still things I don’t know about Jason Taylor’s time in the armed forces. When Gail reaches the top of the aisle, Taylor doesn’t wait for her to be deposited into his care and walks up to get his girl. And if he didn’t, I think Pella would have shoved him off the platform. The pastor greets everyone and starts the ceremony. Taylor holds onto Gail as if she’s going to grease her shoes and take off like the Runaway Bride. Gail is calm, and gently pats Taylor’s hand reassuring him. When Gail recites her vows Anastasia tears up, she checks her clutch for a Kleenex, but can’t find one. She sniffles and looks around. I reach into my pocket and hand her a monikered handkerchief with my initials. She smiles remembering something and dabs her eyes. I pull her into my embrace closer and kiss the top of her head. She puts her head on my shoulder. It’s Taylor’s turn to read his vows. “Four years, eight months and eleven days ago, my life has changed irrevocably: I met you, baby, the love of my life. I couldn’t tell you if I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you or if it was at the first word you spoke to me, or your first smile that stole my heart. What I remember is that the moment you looked at me, and really saw me, I realized that you altered me and my world without you would be meaningless. Colpo di fulmine, the Thunderbolt as Italians call it…” he says and stops,

then takes in a shaky breath. He gazes into her eyes and continues. “It turned me inside out and there’s no going back. Thank you for loving me despite my many flaws, being my better half, my calm within the storm: you’re my gentle girl. Thank you for becoming my wife!” “Four years of begging!” hoots one of Taylor’s military buddies from the back row. Taylor grins. “Damn right! Now that you are MY WIFE,” he says raising his voice, “I will love you every second of my life Gail Marie Taylor.” “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride,” announces the pastor after the exchange of the rings. “With pleasure!” Taylor says smiling, holds Gail and dips her as he kisses his wife for the first time. Anastasia continues to wipe her tears while holding onto me. She then clears her throat and turns to me: “Can I have your phone?” “My phone?” “My clutch was too small for my cell phone. Melissa is carrying it for me and she’s waiting over there. I want to take some pictures.” I smile and hand her my Blackberry. Anastasia stands up with my help and snaps some pictures. Once the ceremony is done, the guests are ushered into the dining area. I’m concerned that the scents from different meals are going to make my wife nauseous, but we are sitting in in a well-ventilated area that minimizes the scents. “How do you feel? Are you hungry?” I ask attentively. “So far so good and yes I feel ravenous in every way possible,” she whispers with her eyes darkening. I snake my hand at the small of her back and pull my wife to me. Putting my forehead to hers, I whisper one word packed with promise, and carnal desire: “Tonight…” The meal is over without any mishap to my relief. We have not been going out to eat since Anastasia has been getting sick because the scents are amplified for her and it’s

quite difficult to gauge what would make her sick. This is the first large gathering she’s participating in, and I have been worried that we might have a nausea spell. The meal is followed with the drinks and dancing at the larger Ballroom. The first song Taylor and Gail dance to is “Can’t take my Eyes off You”. When the champagne is depleted, and people danced long hours, Ana’s eyes start drooping. Can’t Take my Eyes off You - Muse “I’m taking you to our room,” I whisper. “Home you mean?” she asks. “No, we’re staying here, at the Presidential Suite. Come. Let’s say our goodbyes,” I say pulling her. Taylor, who is always in tune with my presence, turns around as soon as he senses my approach. “Jason,” I say extending my hand. “Congratulations to you both. This is the start of your best years to come. Somehow, I know that you and Gail will be blissfully happy.” “And...” I say but Anastasia looks up at me in silent communication and whispers, “allow me,” and inserts her hand to the inner pocket of my tuxedo to take the envelope out. She hands it to Gail giving her a tight hug. “We love you both dearly, but we don’t want to see you until December 4th!” she gushes at them, smiling. “December 4th?” Taylor asks surprised. “Your itinerary is in the envelope, Gail packed your bags for 3 weeks, and the jet is fueled and ready to take off anytime you get to SEA-TAC with your bride,” I say shrugging. Taylor blinks. “But, security?” he asks, back in the business mode. “The Calvary rode in,” I say nodding in Pella’s and Welch’s direction. “We’ve already arranged the coverage for your absence to hold the fort. We’ll be okay;” I say with as much confidence as I can muster. The truth is, I always feel better when Taylor is around, but he deserves this if he is to focus on his job. Besides, if any man earned a

vacation, it would be Taylor, “you enjoy your well-deserved honeymoon with Gail,” I say smiling. Taylor is speechless which is a sight worth seeing all in itself. He swallows hard, looks at Gail, and then turns to us. “Thank you… uhm…” he says blinking, lost for words. “Thank you. Three weeks? Are you sure? Security?” “Relax. It’s covered. You know me; I don’t leave anything to chance.” “Yes, sir.” Anastasia raises her eyebrows to give the real wedding present we planned. “To take your bride in style to the airport,” I say holding the engraved key fob in my hand with flourish, “here’s your new, well, renovated classic 1966 Ford Shelby Mustang GT350! I hope it lives up to its reputation of being an exceptional open-road touring car.”

“You rented us my favorite car?” “No, we bought you your favorite car. Enjoy it!” I say as I tug Anastasia who gives both Gail and Taylor a hug. When Anastasia and I walk away with big grins on our faces, Taylor and Gail are both sporting the same awed and utterly surprised look on their faces. Completely priceless. “Now, Mrs. Grey. I believe I owe you a night of passion that is fifty ways to Sunday,” I whisper lasciviously as we exit the ballroom, tailing us Sawyer, Ryan and Miss Tiber whose company is only welcome to the door of the Presidential Suite and are

conveniently left outside with our “DO NOT DISTURB” sign turn outward hanging at the door handle.

CHAPTER XIX FIRST THANKSGIVING The god in me and the beast in me And all deep things come up to light; And I would barter my soul to be The prize of love for a single night… George Sylvester Viereck, ~Love Triumphant

As soon as we walk through the door, I lock it and turn to Anastasia. Taking a deep breath, I walk around my wife appraising her outfit. I run my index finger in her shoulders as I walk around her with arrogant confidence, wordlessly. She closes her eyes first. When I come to stand in front of her, I trail my finger up under her chin lifting it up to look at me. She inhales deep and works on a hard swallow. As I run my thumb over the seam of her lips, she slowly opens her eyes up and her blue gaze meets my darkened gray gaze full of carnal desire.

“I want to make love to my wife,” I murmur with intense desire, my lips only a whisper away from her ear, yet not touching. A shiver runs through her. “First… How do you feel, baby?” “Good,” she says, her voice croaks in a high pitch. She clears her throat, and repeats, “I’m great. Just great!” I hide a smile.

“Well then,” I say and lean down to seal her lips with mine. The second we connect, I feel her accumulated hunger matching and overtaking mine. She doesn’t just want to be kissed; she wants to be claimed. I take a firm and intense possession of her mouth; plundering, pleasing, and reacquainting. Her lips are soft, moist and demanding. She nips my lower lip, grazing along, then gently soothing with her tongue then tasting me with her mouth again. Hitching her right leg over my thigh, she’s ready to climb up on me. I support her by lifting her buttocks and pressing her onto my erection. My day old barely present stubble is just enough to scrape her soft skin. As I run it across her chin and neck, she tilts her head back as she shudder, and gives me full access. Leonard Cohen – A Thousand Kisses Deep I drop one shoulder of her dress, and expose the delicate strapless lace bustier pushing her swelling breasts. I reach between them and coax out her left breast. Even though there is no temperature variation in the room, her nipple tightens and perks up as if seeking my full attention. I cup it in my hand and a desperate moan escapes her, immediately hardening me further. With a swift move, I grasp her buttocks and completely raise her off the floor and bring her breast up to my mouth. Capturing the nipple now extending towards my lips, I suck deep and long, first. I fellate and roll her

nipple first between my lips softly then gently bite down just hard enough to give her a jolt of pleasure down in her sex but not enough to hurt. Her body is in full attention mode now. An involuntary moan escapes her lips.

“Hush now,” I murmur. My lips travel up to her neck and her chin. Her hand reaches to my tie, trying to loosen it. Then when she gets it loose enough, she fumbles with the button of my shirt. Giving up, she tries to slide my jacket off my shoulders. I take pity on her and let the jacket fall to the floor. She directs her attention back to my buttons, but, it is a difficult task when I’m working on pleasuring her. “I want to touch you!” she moans. “Do it!” I command. She tries to utilize both hand, and loses patience. The next thing I feel is buttons spraying around the foyer as she wrenches open my shirt, trying to pull it off my arms.

“Mrs. Grey… Ana!” To get her attention, I bend my head and suckle her heavy, aching breast. She arches her head back as her heady taste hits my tongue. One of her hands slaps the wall behind to support herself as the fingers of her right hand digs into my back. This would have been an intolerable act just a few months ago, but now it’s something I completely crave. Our breathing is heavy, but I don’t want this to be a short game. I finally straighten up from her straining breast and turn her back to me, placing her hands on the wall then zip her dress down. Standing her straight, I let her dress pool at her feet. She has stockings clipped to her garter belt. I want those stocking clad legs and her Louboutins over my shoulders. I have to sacrifice the lacy panties. “We don’t need these, Mrs. Grey,” I say as I rip the lace of her panties and pull the shredded contraption off her thighs.

“And one more change…” I murmur as I run my thumb over my lower lip contemplating. I free her other breast from the confinements of her bodice. “Your hair…” I whisper and take the pins off her hair and let them tumble around her shoulder and breasts. Fuck me! She is a goddess! We’re both breathing heavily. I trail my index finger from her lower lip to her chin and then to her neck. I take my time in the valley between her breasts. Leisurely making my way down on her bodice, I find her visible baby bump on her belly. My hand flattens and caresses our child then travel down to her garter belt and then her pubic area. She’s completely hair free now that

she’s getting regular waxing, save for a small landing strip. I run my fingers between her folds. She’s completely wet. “You are so ready for me baby!” I whisper. Then insert my index finger into her sex, then a second digit. I swipe my fingers around and already feel the tightening of her inner muscles. I slow down my movements. “Oh, please Christian!” she pleads with me. “What do you want Anastasia?” “You!” she moans. “You have me. What do you want me to do?” “Kiss me… Down there,” she points, making me grin. “With pleasure!” I say and l drop to my knees. I brush my day old stubble over her belly and her sex eliciting a long drawn groan full of yearning. With my feet, I spread her wider, and after swiping my tongue through her slit, I blow on her clit making her shiver. She puts her Christian Louboutin clad foot on my shoulder. I grin at her enthusiasm. When I dip my tongue into her hot and wet sex, I feel it pulsing under my tongue. Supporting her buttocks with my hand, I lift her off the floor and push her body to the corner of the two walls and keep her steady then really dip my tongue into her sex and probe and swirl exquisite circles. She’s practically sitting on my shoulders when her sex is an open buffet before my face. When I cover my mouth over her clit and the entrance of her sex and suck it, she nearly levitates off my shoulders, slamming her hands hard on the walls. As soon as I feel her core tightening, I pull my tongue back and let the spasms subside. Anastasia laces and tangles her fingers in my hair forcing me to speed up, unable to utter a coherent word. “Please, Christian! Harder! Faster!” “All in good time…” I smile with the evidence of her arousal glistening over my lips. “Please! Make me come!” she begs.

I run my hand over her stocking clad thigh and squeeze her buttock and seal my lip over her sex again. This time my tongue possesses her sex, testing her slit, I dip into her sex. I tilt her buttocks just the right way towards my mouth and grant a greater access to my ministrations. Locating her pleasure spot, I relentlessly massage and awaken her nerves. She clenches and her sex starts spasming. The heels of her shoes dig into my back deliciously as an orgasm takes over Ana’s entire body with my name on her lips. I suck every ounce of pleasure of her and only let her down when she’s limp as a rag-doll. “The games have only begun, Mrs. Grey,” I say darkly and lower her to my arms and carry her to the bed. “As much as I adore these on you, I want to see all of my wife,” I murmur, and take my time removing her bodice. Then I unclip her stocking and slide them down as I caress her legs. Removing her shoes, I pull the stockings off. Then pulling the tie left on my neck, I tie it loosely on her neck. Finally, I walk her backwards to the bed, and gently push her down. She watches me with heavy lidded eyes. I make a show of removing my pants and boxers, and my erection springs out. Anastasia greets it with an excited gasp. I slowly climb over my wife and take possession of her lips, kissing, sucking. Without a break, my lips trail down to her neck. Her nipples strain out towards my lips for attention like luscious beads. I capture one with my lips and suck, hard while copying my movements with my hand on her other nipple. She lifts her hips up to get some friction trying to meet my eager cock. “No, baby…” I remind her. “I want this to last!” It’s been a while since I’ve been inside her. I’m going to prolong and enjoy the feeling as much as I can. Quickly I trail my tongue down to her belly, her pubic bone and her inner thigh. Without touching her sex, I leisurely crawl out of the bed, and lift her leg up locating her erogenous zone under her knee. She nearly lifts off the bed as the pleasure hits her. I continue to travel

down, and reach her foot. I run my stubble over her instep and slightly bite her heel. Then graze her foot with my teeth and finally get to her big toe and suck it leisurely, making her convulse with heightened pleasure. “Christian, fuck me! Please!” I grin in response. Slowly put her leg back on the bed and palm my erection. “You want this baby?” I ask stroking my length up and down.

“Yes! Please!” she begs. Continuing to pleasure myself at the edge of the bed in Anastasia full view, I keep stroking myself. Anastasia scrambles to her knees, and moves to the edge of the bed. “Mine!” she says, and grasping my ass with one hand, she takes me into her mouth. She tries to slide her other hand over my cock, but I warn. “I only want your mouth. No hands!” I say. She looks at me challengingly. A wicked grin comes to her lips and she extends her hands before her. “Maybe, you should tie me Mr. Grey!”

“You’re getting mighty bossy Mrs. Grey. Maybe I should,” I say removing the tie from her neck, I tie her hands in front of her. She sucks me deep. I reach to her hair falling and dancing around her breasts. I am mesmerized. My eyes crush close, but I force myself to open them again. The extreme pleasure is getting me close to orgasm, but I don’t want to come into her mouth. I want to conquer my wife inside and mark myself. Yes, I am fucking selfish and primitive. So, sue me! She’s my wife, my woman and I am hers! “Enough!” I grunt, but Anastasia doesn’t relent. She continues to suck me, coaxing me semen. “Enough sucking baby! I want to fuck you into next week, now!” I growl, and push her back onto the bed. Lifting her tied hands up above her head, I slam into her balls deep in one swift move filling her completely. “I’m going to ride you hard, baby! Tell me to stop if it’s too hard for you!” I hiss through my gritted teeth. “Stop talking and fuck me already!” she growls like a feisty kitten. “Yes, ma’am!” I say and start moving. I pull out to the tip and slam back again. My head leans down and grasps her breast while I palm her other full breast. My mouth is wet and hot, licking, sucking, as my cock is fucking, and thrusting hard, melting into one another. Anastasia moans, reaching her crescendo. She’s quivering under me, trembling with pleasure. Her sex clenches my cock like a tight fist, determined to suck out every drop of semen. Ana and Christian in Bed “Oh, Ana!” I cry out letting go of myself, pumping into her, finally roaring like a male lion taking and possessing his female. When we both come back to her senses, her legs are still wrapped around me waist, and exhausted. “Mr. Grey,” she murmurs, listless, “that was incredible!”

“One more time…” I whisper. “This time, slow and sweet, my love,” and I make up the missing nine days to her most of the night. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

People should either be caressed or crushed. If you do them minor damage they will get their revenge; but if you cripple them, there is nothing they can do. If you need to injure someone, do it in such a way that you do not have to fear their vengeance. Niccolò Machiavelli

The man’s burner phone rings furiously, repeatedly, demanding to be answered. He knows immediately who it is. Christ! If his client’s rage was a physical entity, it would come out of the phone and beat the shit out of him already. He is a seasoned man. Not much scares or worries him. He’s after all been to eight years of combat and six years of mercenary and been a private security contractor for three years for those who traveled with their personal army to places even God didn’t want to enter. With his hired automatic heavy weapons of course. He doesn’t feel such emotions as compassion, empathy, mercy, awe, gratitude or love. But he takes pride in himself for being very good at utilizing his rage, hate, cruelty, avarice and revulsion. He enjoys other’s despair, hurt, anxiety, fear, helplessness and takes delight in watching them go through these emotions. It is his version of amusement, harnessed his abilities which took him years and lots of kills under his belt. Incidentally he made a lot of bucks while he was having fun. A man’s gotta make a living. At least he isn’t stealing it. He finally decides to answer the fucker’s call. He puts his guns he’s cleaning back on the table. “Fawkes,” he answers his phone. The voice in the phone pauses, and hesitates. “You’re giving me your name?” the client asks in a baritone voice. “A disposable, interchangeable, anonymous alias.”

“You stirred the pot!” “You asked me to stir the pot!” “Not before you informed me in the method in which you stir the said pot!” he retorts. “I have given you more information than anyone could have recovered. Private… information,” Fawkes bit out. “Information you couldn’t have come by had you slept in the same bed with Grey, himself! His wife’s pregnancy was kept like a state secret. Now you know the name of her doctor, the hospital where she’s expected to give birth, her schedule, her best friend’s home layout. You asked me to make him nervous, make him feel that he is vulnerable. I did just that!” “If you make him feel vulnerable at his weakest link, he will strengthen it and cover his ass! You should have learned that about him already!” “Head of his security is gone on a three week honeymoon,” he says casually as if he’s not just been scolded by his Client. “This would be a good time to inflict some damage.” His client growls as if he’s speaking to an idiot. “You’ve known this man for what, a couple of months? I’ve known him since he was peeing in his shorts. Do you think he wouldn’t cover his ass if the head of his security was absent for three weeks?” “Arrogance would make people weak!” “He’s arrogant, but he’s also cautious. Do you have information on who he hired to cover his bases when his main man gone?” “Yes. A forty year old woman was added to his wife’s security detail.” “How did you come by with that information?” “I’ve seen her. Took her picture and ran it on a few databases.” “And?” “She’s ex-secret service,” he says casually. A string of profanities follow on the receiver which he momentarily takes away from his ear. “Secret service? Do you see what you caused?”

“Relax! The last person she served was Mrs. Clinton. She’s old news!” The client on the phone knows differently. “Did she serve her the whole term?” “Yes, she did. Then she was recruited by another playboy like Grey.” “She has got to be dangerous, and you can be sure that if she could protect a dominant, take control of everything in the hundred mile radius kind of she-devil like Clinton, you are facing your biggest challenge yet.” He wants to laugh. A chick! They’re mostly recruited because they have to fill the quota of diversity by whiny liberals for fuck’s sake! “She is a woman!” he hisses. “That’s her first weakness.” What was it with the mercenary idiots that they trust their muscles more than their brains, thinks the Client. “You can’t fuck this up! Remember who is paying for your service! I shall do some damage control now. Had you not riled Grey up, we could have had our chance in this three week window, now the eagle’s nest is safer than ever.” “What do you recommend, boss?” he bits out, reluctantly. Even head dogs obey their masters for the bone they receive. “Wait in lay,” his client says. He waited years for this to plan to work; It can’t be fucked up. He knows what hasty decisions cost him as was in the case with Hyde. He couldn’t afford another impulsive blow. This has to be calculated down to the last move. This has to hurt him, hurt him irreparably and inflict the greatest pain before he ends the game on his own terms sending a message that it was him who took him down and fucked his life over. He knows he can’t rival Grey when it comes to money. The fucker is worth several billions dollars and he stripped him to nothing but his revenge money he put away over the course of many years. Thank fuck for that! So, Grey showed deference when it comes to his wife. He loves her, the Client thought. Love, he snorts to himself in derision. What a fucking weakness! The biggest when it comes to taking down your enemies, an inexpensive, precious tool. Like guarding a billion dollar property with a thousand dollar lock! And to think that he made all kinds of effort to hide his wife’s pregnancy from public… Clearly, he is trying to protect both the child and his wife. How should he go about this?

If he damages pregnancy, she could certainly get pregnant again. It’s just a fetus. Oh sure, his wife might mope around and even get Grey tired of her, but that just isn’t pain enough. Not really. Men usually don’t get attached to the fetus. But a child on the other hand is a whole different ball game. He would be protecting the child like his most important possession, especially after he holds his offspring in his arms. When, then would be the best time to attack? When? When? When? It would be too hard to inflict harm when the child was in their possession in his posh but well protected apartment. It had to be in the hospital. He makes his decision. Let Grey think he’s safe and the incident with the paparazzi his man caused just a public curiosity, and nothing else. Grey has to feel safe if he has to loosen the safety strings. “Here’s how it’s going to be played. I want you to be as stealthy as possible. I don’t want additional players in the game.” “You want a long drawn out game,” Fawkes says his gaze drifting to the night sky from the 8th story window of his hotel room. The traffic is moving like a steady ribbon below. The fog from the waterfront is moving in from the distance. He shifts in his chair, turning his attention back to the Client on the phone. “There will always be other players like the wedding planner I fucked to gain access to the Kavanagh household who of course knew nothing about me. I managed to place a concealed bug. I will in the end make Grey the unwilling participant of your greatest illusion! Misdirect, distract, and control.” Control! The Client instantly loves the sound of that. It’s his favorite word after all. His cock even twitches with the word and he doesn’t even swing that way. “Go on…” Fawkes’ Client says concealing his interest, feigning boredom. “He’s going to think that this is about his wife and the paparazzi. The wife is just the vessel to the end goal. You cannot attack your enemy without understanding him, discovering his weaknesses and use it against him. This, after all has only been my reconnaissance. Your previous endeavor ended unsuccessfully because you used a dickless jock who did not do his homework and failed you both miserably,” he says as a matter of factly. “What endeavor?” the Client asks defensively, further ensuring Fawkes’ instincts were in fact correct. So it was him who paid for Hyde’s bail in a feeble attempt to use that

incompetent fucker’s anger against the Greys which apparently was a total flop. The man was emotionally involved. Emotions are always a downfall in a job. He isn’t emotionally invested and certainly wouldn’t fall into the same traps. He knows that if you give people a really difficult task to do beforehand and give them a choice of doing the sensible thing and doing the instinctive thing, they’ll go for the instinctive. He’s learned that well in the battle field. It never fails: human nature is very predictable. People always go for the instinctive choice before a difficult task. Because, when people are mentally exhausted, they’ll operate with their instinct. It’s just simple biology. He knows this well because a predator learns everything about its prey. He knows that under duress and stress, people move and make decisions with their emotions rather than their brain. “I’ll be selling a different danger to fucking Grey, while setting up a trap for something completely different,” he explains. He knows how to utilize the persuasive intent. It’s become a second nature to him. “I told you. I’ve done my reconnaissance. I’m involving the whole country in the ruse. The man is filthy rich and he isn’t even 30! On top of that he’s fucking handsome. Even if he wasn’t good looking, the women would ogle him for the money he has. He’s also got himself a nice piece of ass for a wife and she’s pregnant. It’s easy to stir the shit pot up and direct his full attention on something else while we set the secondary trap.” It’s a simple media tactic really. When there are important decisions are being made that would stir up the public big time, give them something else to chew on, like a scandal. Politicians use this tactic all the time: They toss a piece of bone to rile up the conservatives. The religious community would jump at that shit and the liberal fuckheads would bicker with them back and forth. That’s when you move the ships at night when the public is stewing on a fake or some unimportant shit like that. Not even their soul would hear it. Diversion. Simple tool, but works every fucking time! “How do you manage to do that?” “It’s human nature that they crave gossip. It doesn’t even have be the real news. It could be ‘an onlooker said’, or ‘a source said,” or “a friend said,” even a ‘spy said’ and bam you have the fucking gossip whispered into those magazines. Attach a semicredible picture to it and get it out in public. While he is dealing with the shit-storm, it shouldn’t be too hard with a hothead like Grey to generate news. And if we’re lucky, he smashes a few cameras, beats couple of reporters up, gets tangled up in court with those fuckers and will forget all about you or me. By the time I pull this shit on, my hand will be so deep in his ass, he won’t know where his body ends and my arm begins,” Fawkes says confidently. He’s assassinated heads of state before who were vigilant at every second of every day. This shit is just child’s play. He would do his homework well, and have another completed mission no matter how tiny the target is.

“How do you know he’s going to take the bait?” asks the Client. He’s interested in the plan. “Unless he’s got a skin like the rhinoceros, he will take it, because the chick he’s married is on a tight leash. He is into her big time. He’d be possessive of his territory,” like any red blooded man with a hot fuck like her. “Okay, but, I want a minor change,” the Client says noncommittally. “A swift exit of the package from the scene would be too quick end of the game. I want to exert prolonged torture to both of them. She suffers and he will suffer double. When he comes for the package, you take him out as well.” “You’re the boss. But it will cost you. You’re gonna be keeping me on the retainer for at least six more months.” “We’ve agreed on the price before. I will drop the money, and will let you know the place to pick-up. That will cover the incidentals.” “My prices are set and non-negotiable. When we agreed, there was only one hit. Two hits will cost you ten million with the incidentals. You paid 25% of the previous price. I will have to ask you the 25% of the new price to be paid next week,” Fawkes says firmly as he moves out of his chair. His gun is completely clean now. He places it in its container as he holds the burner phone over his shoulder and chin. Once he locks the case, his hand goes over to grasp the phone. He is six feet tall, with military crew cut hair and according to the wedding planner, he has honey colored expressive eyes, or some shit like that. Some would call him even handsome. It wasn’t hard to charm the tight skirt off the wedding planner. She was easily taken with a rugged man with bulging muscles years of working out and a virile man who liked to fuck. Women loved to go for that mystery shit and he is mysterious. Like a ghost. No one knows who he is. He has numerous aliases and seven different passports from seven different countries, all forged of course, but as far as the fakes go, no one could tell the difference. He could finish the job and exit the country for a while until the next call came for the next job. “I am well aware of your prices. I will pay you the next 25% but you won’t get anything else until the job is complete. If however the job isn’t complete and you fail…” the Client says, he cuts him off. The Client does not like to be cut off.

“All sales are final. No refunds,” Fawkes replies in a dominating voice. The client however doesn’t yield to other dominants. It ruffles his feathers. “I wasn’t talking about cash,” he whispers in an ominous calm, but icy cold voice. “Just remember that I get my dues. I. Always. Get. My. Dues,” he says, his words are distinct and staccato. “Think of it as a professional courtesy. You would understand. You’ve been in the business long enough.” So, that’s how it was going to be. There would be someone else pointing the gun at his head had he not pulled the trigger. But, this wasn’t the first job, and he knows or suspects what the Client did in the past to piss this target off and he also knows who the client is. He isn’t worried. The job would be complete when all the pieces fall in place. And the final piece was still cooking in the oven. “Fair enough. I want my money in my hand next week. I’ll leave another burner phone for you and text you the location. That’s the one you will use when I call you next,” he says. The Client feels assured and hangs up just a tad bit close to his triumph for first time in many weeks. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

Anyone who is in love is making love the whole time, even when they're not. When two bodies meet, it is just the cup overflowing. They can stay together for hours, even days. They begin the dance one day and finish it the next, or--such is the pleasure they experience--they may never finish it. Paulo Coelho ~Eleven Minutes

Since Gail and Taylor are gone for three weeks, my mother called me on Sunday afternoon to lend Gretchen to us to cook and clean. I told her that it would be up to Anastasia since she is the woman of the house. My mother is happy to oblige and she calls Anastasia. “Hi Grace!” Anastasia answers her phone cheerfully. I look at Anastasia curiously to see if she would like my mother’s gesture. I can hear my mother eager to help Ana knowing her grandchild is giving my wife a run for her money. “How do you feel today Ana?” my mom asks curiously. “I’ve been lucky to have about a five day stretch without nausea. I’m keeping my fingers crossed. Sometimes some scents trigger it, but I’m slowly learning to distinguish those and avoid them at all cost.” “I’m so glad that you had a break. It gets better towards the middle of the second trimester for most women. How was Taylor and Gail’s wedding?” “It was wonderful. Everyone had a great time,” Anastasia replies. “I’m so glad. I’ve called you because I thought on Gail’s absence you might need some help with cooking and cleaning. I’ve asked Gretchen and she said she’d be more than happy to help you for the duration of Gail and Taylor’s honeymoon…”

“The European pigtails?” Anastasia squeaks, her voice an octave higher. Then she clears her throat, and rephrases her question. “Uhm… the young lady who is working for you?” she asks. “Oh, yes,” my mother sounds reticent now. “Has she offended you in any way, Ana? If she’s not making you comfortable, I wouldn’t want to send her to your home, of course.” Anastasia breathes out slowly, and gives me a nervous look. Why is she offended by Gretchen? “I completely appreciate the gesture Grace. Thank you so much. You’re very thoughtful. But, I prefer not to take away your helper. Gail has already arranged someone else to come over for the time being…” she says and that’s news to me. Why would Anastasia withhold that information from me especially when someone I’ve never met is coming to our home to work and have access to her? I frown. She looks up at me nervously. “Oh, great. I’m glad you have help, Ana. I was worried there for a while thinking you didn’t have help.” “Thank you for the kind gesture Grace. I have plenty of help. How are Carrick and Mia?” she says immediately changing the topic. She tries to keep her voice steady. Why is she upset? “We are all doing very well, sweetheart. Thank you for asking. Mia wanted to see you but I told her to not to bother you until you felt better. Oh dear! I just remembered! Is there anything special you would like to have for Thanksgiving or any food we should avoid of cooking? Are you craving any special food?” This makes Ana smile. “There is a short list of items that make me sick, but mostly what is served on Thanksgiving should be fine. I’m a bit tired right now, but I will e-mail the list to you if that’s okay, Grace,” she says to my mom. “Of course Ana. The baby is going to go through growth spurs and resting is extremely important, darling.” “I find myself napping twice a day now and still feel sleepy!” Ana smiles. “Give my love to Carrick and Mia, please. We are so looking forward to seeing you on Thanksgiving. Do you want us to bring anything?” she asks and I know she wants to end her conversation.

“No darling, just your lovely company,” my mother says. “Have a good nap, Ana. We love you, dear!” “We love you too, Grace,” she says and hangs up. I walk right in front of her. Fixing my gaze onto her heated stare, I raise a questioning eyebrow at her, accusingly. “What?” she snaps. “When were you planning to tell me about the help in Gail’s place?” “What help?” Ana asks. Is she deliberately being obtuse? “The help you told my mom that Gail recommended.” “There’s no help!” she hisses. I don’t understand. Why would she lie to my mom? “Why then….” I say then I stop. “Mrs. Grey… Are you jealous of Gretchen?” I ask with a suppressed grin. “I don’t want Miss European pigtails anywhere near your house or you!” she says, and “Our home and your husband,” I correct my wife. “Well,” she says putting her fisted hands on her hips in a defensive gesture, “your wife doesn’t want the Miss European pigtails near my husband or our home! I don’t like her and I sure don’t trust that drooling bitch!” Her anger surprises me. “Has she said or done anything to you to elicit this level of anger from you?” “Honestly, Christian! I barely tolerate seeing her when I go over to your parents’ house because she’s so ready to rip her clothes off and kneel before you…” she says, then shakes her head, composing herself. “Never mind. I’d rather wait for Gail’s return. And if we’re desperate for help, I’m sure I can count on Melissa to help find a reliable help,” she says a little calmer. She then turns her back ready to leave the Great Room. I catch her arm. “Wait! Why are you angry, Anastasia? Have I given you any reason to be jealous with anyone?”

“Really, Sherlock?” she bits out trying to get out of my grasp. I hold onto her tighter. God! Her hormones are giving me the whiplash with all the mood swings. “I don’t care about her or any other woman, Anastasia. My mom only offered the help because she thought you have been sick and it would just help you out.” “I know. I appreciate the gesture,” she says sighing. “It is actually very kind of her. I just don’t know why it bothered me, but somehow it does.” “Don’t worry about it. We will interview a temporary help and make sure that you are comfortable with her. Okay?” I ask seeking her gaze. She doesn’t answer. “Ana?” I say in a warning tone. “There’s no one for me, baby. Just you. Just. You. Okay?” I lift her chin up and she looks at me, “Yes,” she says nodding slowly. “Okay. Now that we got that out of the way, come, I want to feed my wife dinner and then take her to our bed to make love,” I whisper lasciviously. “Make love?” she asks looking at me hopeful. “Yes, make love,” I confirm and she gives me a genuine smile this time. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

The next two weeks passes nearly uneventful. Anastasia has not made one complaint about her new security detail. Anastasia didn’t want Prescott tailing her from the get go. She could not warm up to her. Melissa Tiber is a lot tougher and more seasoned than Prescott. “How’s Tiber working out for you, baby?” I ask as we’re getting ready to go to my parents’ home for the Thanksgiving Day. “Tiber? I call her Melissa. Tiber sounds too Roman.” “Roman?” I ask curiously.

“Yes. Don’t you know? Tiberius was one of the imperial families of the Ancient Rome. They had imperial palaces on the Palatine Hill, western slope of the Roman Forum,” she says and I look at her with my mouth agape. “I know I haven’t taken you to Rome. How did you come by that information?” I ask quizzically. “Mr. Grey, I’m offended. I am an editor at SIP after all. I read,” she says grinning. “What?” I ask when she gets that mischievous smile on her face. “I like it when there’s something I know and you don’t Mr. Grey. That’s all,” she giggles. “Really Mrs. Grey?” “Yes, because you generally know everything, and you are very good at it. I’m in awe of you and how much you know. But I do cherish the moments when I know a little more than you do which are very rare.” She giggles again. “I know you read a lot Mrs. Grey, and I am quite impressed with your knowledge,” I say as I wrap my arms around from behind her. Her belly is protruding just a little with sixteen weeks of pregnancy today. I nuzzle her neck, trailing kisses. My hands rest on her naked belly caressing it. “Do you feel the baby moving yet?” I ask suddenly curious. “Not as a physical movement per say,” she says, “ but I feel the butterfly movements. I don’t think we can see it yet from outside. Well, at least not until the fifth month according to Dr. Greene,” she explains tilting her head to the side giving greater access to her neck. “I love the way your body is changing,” I murmur. “I love it the pink hue it gave your lips,” I whisper trailing my index finger, “to your lush, full breasts,” I say cupping her breasts beneath her lacy bra. I slowly turn my wife around and extract one of her breasts out of the cup, circling and kneading the pink nipple.

“I love the way it readily responds to my touch,” I murmur and take her breast into my hot, wet mouth and suck. “Ahhh!” she moans. I slightly bite her nipple and lick where I nipped her. Then trail kisses down her torso to her belly. Kneeling down, I hold her hips between my hands kiss the little bump, our baby. “Hi Blip,” I murmur. “This is your daddy.” Anastasia’s breath hitches. Her hands tentatively move onto my head and caress my hair gently. When I look up at her from the floor, she’s gazing at me with full of admiration. They’re wide and brimming with tears. “What’s wrong baby?” I ask, slowly rising to my feet, concerned. I hold her face in my hand and make her look up at me. “Oh, Christian! How I have dreamed that you would do this, love me and our baby like this, with this intensity, with this level of awe and admiration. Now, I’m the one who is in awe of you,” she whispers, not trusting her voice. “I love you both! But, you already know that. I am but a man who is madly in love with his wife and in love with his child to be born. Our. Baby. Half of you,” I say caressing her cheek and she leans into my hand, “and half of me,” I murmur. She opens her eyes up to look at me. “Now, let’s finish getting ready,” I whisper.

“Nooo!” she protests. I raise my eyebrows, hiding my amusement. “You just, did this to me, and now asking to just get dressed and go?” “What did I do to you Mrs. Grey?” I ask feigning innocence. “Turned me on, Christian! How can you be so obtuse when you just got my breast out, sucked me into near orgasm and now telling me to just get dressed?” “Why Mrs. Grey, did you want me to fuck you?” “Yes, damn it!” I try to suppress my grin unsuccessfully. “I’d love to, but we are running out of time,” I murmur as I deliberately run my index finger over her exposed nipple. It perks up like a little cherry. “Maybe, tonight,” I whisper. She pushes my hand away and tucks her breast into her lacy bra frustrated. “Don’t count on it!” she says petulantly and turns her back to go to the closet. I have a feral cat in my care. She’s wild and hot! I catch her waist and pull her back to me. “I will choose the time and place, baby. Anticipation is half of seduction,” I whisper. I want her, but this is another big first for us: our very first holiday as a couple. I’m going to make it special. She purses her lips and narrows her eyes. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

Pale blue taffeta dress not only emphasizes her eyes, but also draws attention to her growing bust, and the knee length folds of her dress showcases her long legs. Anastasia’s dress is tied with a blue satin sash right under her breasts and above her baby bump. “What do you think?” she asks with heavy lidded eyes. I lose my train of thought. I make a motion indicating her to turn around. She tries to hide a smile but opening her arms as she turns around. “Did your boobs get two sizes bigger?” I ask with my voice husky. I try to pull the dress up just a bit to cover her very evident cleavage. She shoos my hand away.

“It’s very appropriate,” she says. “Yes, but everyone will be touching your belly and your boobs are right there!” She hands me her coat to help her put it on. “Maybe you should keep this on the whole time. My brother and Ethan Kavanagh will be there,” I say. “I’m sure they’ll behave,” she goads me. She turns her back for me to help her and I realize that the dress has a deeper cut in the back lower than her cleavage. “Did you remove your bra?” I ask. “Yes,” she feigns disinterest. “The dress has a built in bra to keep everything in place.” I groan. “They’ll hug you and touch you. How long would it take for you to change into something else?” “I like this dress. It’s brand new. Are you ashamed of me? Do I look fat?” she asks horrified. I know what she’s doing. “No! I’m just protecting what’s mine. They’re for my eyes only.” “Why Mr. Grey, I’m a pregnant, married woman. I have this dress on for my husband’s pleasure,” she bats her eyelashes. The dress is stunning. She’s trying to seduce me because she knows I won’t be able to resist. She just raised the stakes of the game and sent the ball into my court. I hold her coat up for her, and she puts her arms in. Two can play at that game. I love a challenge. She just made it into a very exciting game for me. “Well, then Mrs. Grey, shall we go?” “Wait,” she says, and fixes my tie. Running her hands down my lapels leisurely, she watches my eyes darken with desire for her. “Okay, I’m ready,” she says making me swallow. I hold her hand and walk out of our bedroom quickly before I decide to peel her dress off and make love to her.

The elevator ride down to the garage is silent. My gaze is fixed on Anastasia with its full intensity. She looks up at me and I tighten my grasp of her hand. She squeezes it back reassuring me, but not without that mischievous smile. What are you up to Mrs. Grey? Melissa opens Anastasia’s door and I tuck her in the SUV. Sawyer opens my door, and I slip next to my wife. I place my hand on her leg and hear her breath hitching. But I don’t move it any further. She looks at me expectantly. I just smile at her in response. When we arrive at my parents’ house, Mia comes barreling down as usual, but only after a “hi!” I’m pushed aside because they all want to see is Anastasia. “Oh my gosh! Let me see you Ana!” Just as I predicted, her hand flies to Ana’s belly. “I can’t believe it! I’m gonna be an aunt in just a few months. Can you feel the baby? Does it kick yet? Did you guys find out what you’re gonna have? Did your morning sickness stop yet?” Mia rapid fires her questions making Anastasia smile. “Mia!” my mom admonishes her. “Let Ana come inside first. How are you dear?” ask my mom as she hugs Ana. “I’m fine. Thank you, Grace!” she replies with a bright smile. “Hi Ana! It looks like our grandchild is growing. You look beautiful. Glowing!” my father compliments her then shakes my hand as he pats my shoulder with his other hand. As we walk into the living room, Kate Kavanagh rushes to meet us with a smile and my brother in tow. “Oh, Ana! You look marvelous! Oh, your belly is growing!” she touches her belly, baby talking to her pregnant belly. “Hi Ana!” my brother greets her. “Wow! Pregnancy agrees with you little lady! You look sensational,” he says and scoops my wife off the floor in a bear hug. “That’s enough hugging, Elliot. I like my kid to grow to full term,” I semi tease him. Ethan is next in line. His eyes are glowing with admiration. “Ana, you look, wow! Just wow! Can I?” he says and his hand goes over to her belly.

“Stunning!” he says, then murmurs under his breath, “oh what the hell!” and hugs Ana twirling her around. My gaze grows cold and icy. I don’t particularly like others’ hands on my wife. Thank God she has not taken her coat off yet. It’s just been open in the front. But once she takes her coat off, all eyes are on her. The Kavanagh parents are there as well as Ana’s dad. “Okay, let me get my turn to hug my daughter,” Ray says in a gruff voice. “Hi, dad!” Anastasia greets him with a happy smile holding both his hands. “How have you been?” “I’ve been doing much better, dad. Thank you!” “I’m so glad, Annie. You look like an angel,” he says giving Anastasia a hug. “Did you call your mom?” he asks lowering his voice. “Yes, well, no. She called me this morning. So, we spoke.” “Me, too. She told me to check on you from time to time. She worries about you, you know.” “Yes, I know. She asked me to visit when I felt better,” she says. This is news to me. I look at her pure attention. “Anastasia, you’ve been on your feet too long. Let’s sit,” I say directing her to the sofa. Ray follows suit. I sit next to Anastasia crossing my right leg over the left on the knee. I extend my arm over to her shoulder. “You think you might visit her?” Ray asks after he takes place next to her. “Uhm… I’d like to. But, currently my morning sickness is unpredictable. I have good days and bad days. I do miss her though. A lot actually,” she says longing. Mr. Kavanagh and my brother ask me if I caught the score on the Green Bay Packers and Detroit Lions game that was played earlier in the day. “No, I didn’t. How was it?” I ask.

“Packers won 27 to 15. Good game! Well, we’re catching the game with Dallas Cowboys and Miami Dolphins now,” Elliot says. “Hey Ana! Come and join the girls!” my sister pulls her out of my grasp. I frown but Anastasia shrugs giving me a smile and follows my sister. “What would you like to do drink?” Katherine asks her. “White wine or champagne,” Anastasia says looking at me with a barely concealed smile. “Sparkling water or juice for her!” I chide. “Like shooting fish in a barrel!” says Kate Kavanagh. I think the joke at my expense. Anastasia’s face falls a second later and I see the reason why. My parents’ help Gretchen is in the room with a tray and she seems to be staring at me. Anastasia takes her juice and wine from the tray. When Gretchen steps forward to extend the tray to me, Anastasia steps in front of her. “I got my husband’s drink. Thank you,” she says icily. “Yes, ma’am,” Gretchen says blushing profusely. I rise from my seat and extend my hand to my wife for my drink with a grin. “Are you smirking at me, Mr. Grey?” she asks with one hand on her hip. “I have a tigress in my possession,” I grin. “I too am possessive of what’s mine. Are you complaining, husband?” she whispers back. “Baby, it is so fucking hot, I’m salivating,” I reply back. “What are you guys whispering about?” Kate Kavanagh comes, her hands on her hips. Sometimes her bossy attitude irritates the fuck out of me. Butt off! I’m talking to my wife! “My diet,” Anastasia responds without a beat, though not without a blush.

“Come on Christian! You’re missing the game!” Elliot calls me from the entertainment room. “Later,” I whisper into Anastasia’s ear, my voice full of wanton desire and then give her a chaste kiss on her lips. “Come on man! You can do better than that!” Elliot teases me. “Yes, I can. I just don’t put out a show,” I say, though there’s only my brother and Kate in the room besides us. Everyone else is either watching the game, or socializing in the back patio. Just as Anastasia turns her back to leave with Kate, I slap her behind, making her yelp. She turns and looks at me blushing. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

At the table I’m seated next to Anastasia, and my grandmother insisted on sitting next to Ana and that left my grandfather sit on the other side of me. But my grandfather in return insisted that my grandmother sits next to him to prevent her from constantly touching Anastasia’ belly since she was doing just that non-stop since she arrived at the house. I think the only person who didn’t touch Ana’s belly is Gretchen. Everyone else took several turns, some to my displeasure. “Christian, I’m so happy that you and Ana listened to my advice! I am so happy with the prospect of seeing my great-grandchild!” my grandmother gushes. I smile at my grandmother then hold Anastasia’s hand and bringing it to my lips and kiss it. As I lower her hand, I put it back on her lap and place my hand right on her lap. To everyone else on the table, it’s a loving gesture from a husband to his beautiful wife. But my wife knows it differently. Anastasia looks at me with a barely concealed nervousness and blushes. She takes a sip of her sparkly water. My grandfather turns to Anastasia and mumbles an apology on my grandmother’s behalf for being nosy, taking her blushing as a response to my grandmother’s remark. My hand leisurely travels up Anastasia’s leg under the concealment of the tablecloth as my father gives his annual Thanksgiving Day speech of what our family is thankful for, then starts slicing the turkey and my mother is talking about one of our Thanksgiving memories when we were very young. My dad is trying a new electric knife despite mom’s protests, and it’s not working the way he expected it to. He apologizes to us and my mom knowingly brings out the old bird knife as she calls it for my father to carve the turkey.

“What would I do without you?” he says to my mother with a smile. “You shall never find out,” my mother replies, giving him a light kiss on his cheek. My dad returns to his task of cutting the very big turkey after overseeing it’s baking for hours, anxious for us to taste his masterpiece, still wearing his chef’s hat and apron that says in bold letters ‘Kiss the Cook’. Meanwhile my hand reaches the apex of my wife’s thighs, and it’s my turn to be surprised. It’s not because she’s blocking my access to her sex, but that she isn’t wearing any underwear! Did she come here without any underwear in that short dress? Or did she take it off after she walked away with Katherine? Her sex is slick and aroused. I let out my breath slowly, and Anastasia takes a roll from the basket my grandmother passes her. “Thank you,” I hear her say, then turns to me with darkened eyes and ask. “Christian, would you like some?” “Yesss!” I whisper in a tone only she can hear. “Thigh or breast?” the question in my father’s voice takes me by surprise. I compose myself. Anastasia blushes and she closes her leg on me. I squeeze it back in response for her to keep it open. “I’ll have some of each,” my grandfather replies. “No you won’t!” my grandmother retorts. “It’s better for you to have just the white meat. Think of your blood-pressure!” “It’s Thanksgiving, for God’s sake!” “It would be okay for him to have some, mother,” my mom calms my grandmother. “If he has a moderate amount, it would be fine.” “The doctor has spoken!” my grandfather says smugly, “pass me some of the yams, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce and stuffing too!” he adds. “You can’t have mashed potatoes.”

“Can too!” “I am hearing your arteries clog! No mashed potatoes for you, dear,” says my grandmother with finality. “Fine, woman. But I’m having stuffing,” he retorts petulantly. Everyone around the table laughs at their banter. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

“The food was simply marvelous Mr. Grey!” Anastasia says. “Carrick, please, Ana. And thank you. This is a big compliment coming from a pregnant woman. I have done my job well,” my dad smiles, completely proud of himself. Praises come around the table from each diner. “We’ll have our drinks in the living room and those of you who wants to watch the last game of the day, let’s go to the entertainment room,” my father announces. “Christian, are you watching the game?” Ethan asks. “I’ll come later. I think Anastasia wants to rest,” I say and he nods. “Are you okay, Ana?” the women around the table asks. “I’ll take her to my room. She can take a nap there!” Mia jumps. “Thank you, Mia. But, it’s my job to take care of my pregnant wife,” I say decidedly. “Sure it is!” Elliot says with innuendo, making my wife blush. My father gives him a forbidding look. “You can get me back when I knock Kate up!” he says which earns him a slap on the arm from Katherine Kavanagh and her mother nearly chokes on her champagne. “Don’t be an ass Elliot! Ana’s been very sick lately,” Kate admonishes him. “Sorry, Ana! I was just teasing my little brother,” he says half chagrined, half bad boy.

I wrap my arm around Anastasia’s waist, and walk her out of the dining room, lead her to the base of the stairs. When we are completely alone and out of the earshot, I turn to her with my gaze darkened. “Do you want to explain me the no panties?” “Which part?” she asks. “Did you come here without panties, or did you take them off before you sat at the table?” I ask. “Does it matter, Mr. Grey?” she asks coyly. She’s toying with me. Topping from the bottom. “Do you have a pair of panties with you?” I whisper. She shrugs noncommittally. God! I can’t even wait to go up to my bedroom on the third floor. I scan around and find the spare bedroom empty downstairs. Anastasia rises on her tiptoes and taking me by surprise; she reaches with her hands, pulling my head down and locks her lips with mine. My back to the wall, I pull Anastasia into my arms. I lower my left hand to the small of her back, while my right hand slowly goes under the folds of her dress, finding her slick, soaked sex. I slide one finger over her slit, skating it back and forth, eliciting a groan from my wife, swallowing her sound within our kiss. I dip my index finger into her inviting sex and mimic my tongue’s ministrations in her mouth with my finger inside her clenching sex. When we are breathless, I lower my lip to the shell of her ear. “God, I can’t wait to be inside you,” I whisper into her ear. “Are you feeling alright, Ana?” asks a concerned male voice. Ethan Kavanagh! “She’s just a little light headed. I’m just holding her until the dizzy spell goes away.” I respond without a beat. “Shouldn’t you lie her down? Do you want me to bring her a glass of water or something?” he asks attentively. Anastasia shakes her head, leaning her head on my chest. I dip a second and a third finger into her sex, and Anastasia’s breath hitches. “Do you want me to get your mom?” Ethan asks. Fuck! What a pest! “No. I know how to take care of my wife!” I bit out. “We’ve done this before. She’ll be fine in a minute,” I say moving my fingers inside her, pressing them onto her G-spot, applying just the right amount of pressure to get her off. I can feel her approaching

orgasm. She bites down onto my left pectoral to stifle her moan, making my cock take off with desire. “Okay. Hope you feel better, Ana,” he says as he walks away towards the guest bathroom down the hall. When Anastasia’s climax vibrates through her body, shaking her to her core, I pull my fingers out of her and support her limp body. I lift her off with one arm and make a show of tasting her orgasm. Taking my wife into the spare bedroom and kick the door closed and lock it. “Now, Mrs. Grey. I believe it’s my job to make my wife feel so much better, I say and deposit her onto the bed. “What say you to that?” She bites her lower lip, “You’ve had me at the table. I’m all yours, husband!” “That you are, Mrs. Grey. That you are!” In my Secret Life - Leonard Cohen ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

CHAPTER XX KEYS to MY HEART La Vita Nuova In that book which is My memory . . .

On the first page

That is the chapter when I first met you

Appear the words . . .

Here begins a new life - Dante Alighieri

“No, no, no!” Anastasia stops the mover from hanging the painting we’ve purchased into the wrong room. My wife wanted to personally supervise the

location of each furniture we’ve chosen together and of course the paintings we’ve purchased. The only thing I am not budging is the location of her black and white photo Jose the photographer took. “Christian! It’s so… there!” she makes a nervous gesture with her hand seeing her photo above the great fireplace. “I’m not budging on this Ana! I love looking at your picture, and it’s going to be our living room.” “But, everyone will see it, Christian!” “Not everyone, just our family. You’re the center of my universe, why shouldn’t I have an image of you in the hearth of our home?” “Our home…” she whispers reverently. “It is our home, isn’t it?” she says her hands absently caressing her protruding belly, protectively. I take two steps towards her and close the distance between us. Wrapping my arms one over her hand below her belly, the other right under her ample breasts. My woman. My home. She personifies everything that is valuable to me. I lower my head to her neck and inhale her scent. “Oh, Mrs. Grey! How I love you, baby!” I whisper. “Just me?” she asks feigning disappointment. “You and the blip. But, you’re the love of my life. It’s different than the love of our child. Little Master or Miss Grey.” “Oh! We have an appointment on Monday with Dr. Green. If the baby is properly positioned, we can learn the sex of the baby. I want us to be able to discuss the names,” she says excitedly. “Let’s find out what we are having first. Then we can discuss the names,” I remind her. Names! She suggested that I'd look into my biological family history and see. I know she wants me to make peace with a horrid early childhood, but I want nothing to do with those fuckers. “Mr. Grey, Mrs. Grey,” says Mrs. Taylor, clearing her throat. I feel relief. “They are delivering the Christmas tree, and it’s quite big. Where would you like it placed?” “Christmas tree?” Ana asks surprised. “Yes, this is our first Christmas, and it is in nine days away. Are you quite sure that you want to host the Christmas here? Our family is big. My parents, grandparents, siblings, their significant other, your dad and the Kavanagh parents…”

“Oh, my dad may not be able to make it. He might go see Jose and his dad since they have no one else to spend the Christmas with.” I frown. He prefers to spend Christmas with Jose and his dad instead of his daughter? “How do you feel about that?” “I could invite Jose and Mr. Rodriguez but I think they don’t want to impose on us. So, I decided that it might be best to let him be this year to keep his best friend company and maybe visit us next Christmas… you know,” she says smiling, holding her hand over her belly, “on the baby’s first Christmas.” I nod wordlessly. “Well, Mrs. Grey, I count…” I say squinting my eyes, four from our family, and four people from Kavanagh family, “a total of ten guests. There’ll be twelve of us. We’re just moving.” “I’ll help Mrs. Grey, sir. Jason and I will have our Christmas here and I’m cooking for Sawyer, Ryan and Miss Tiber as well,” says Mrs. Taylor. Ana grins at me, giving me her ‘I told you so’ look. “See, Gail and I have it all planned out. Let’s go determine where we will put the Christmas tree,” she says excitedly, tugging my hand. When she sees the Christmas tree, her eyes widen. “Uhm, wow! Christian, this is like the main tree they put in the White House! It’s huge!” “Don't you like it?” I ask worried. “I do… I guess. I just never had a tree of my own. I mean when I was little my mom used to put up a Christmas tree, but it was…small. Kate and I didn’t bother to put up a tree because she always went to her parents’, and I went to see Ray or mom.” She bites her lower lip and her throat works hard on a swallow. I knew that she didn’t celebrate much coming from a divorce family; always having one parent missing during the holidays. When her eyes start misting, I postpone giving her the gifts I got. “Where would you like the tree, Mrs. Grey?” asks Taylor. They already opened up the glass doors in the great room and managed to haul the tree into the house.

“What do you think if they put it right there, Christian?” Anastasia finally asks excitedly. She points her index finger near the glass wall overlooking the Sound. “Perfect!” I say without taking my eyes off her. She grins. In the next half hour, she instructs the workers for the exact location she wants the tree to be placed. I’ve never seen her in nesting mode before, and it is a sight to behold. When the tree is properly set-up and the workers retreated, I turn to her. “I believe it’s time to put your first ornaments on our first tree.” I hand her two boxes. Her eyes widen, and she practically yanks the gift boxes out of my hands. “If I knew they’d make you this excited, I’d have given them to you sooner,” I muse. The first box she opens rewards me with a sharp gasp. The first ornament she’s holding is our first kiss as a husband and wife carved out of crystal and I think the artist did a great job depicting us, though no artist can fully capture Anastasia’s beauty. “First kiss, first love, first Christmas” is written on the glass stand our figurines are standing. “Husband, you are the biggest romantic! I love it!” she utters once she is capable of putting her words in a sequence. “Where would you like to hang it?” I ask. “I believe I want everyone to see this. Sooooo….” She says walking around the tree, then walking back to get a full vision of the tree to see the best location. “Aha!” she exclaims, and places the ornament at a very visible location on the tree. “Open the next one,” I instruct. With trembling fingers, she opens the next box. The sight of her face is something to behold. She looks at the box containing the next ornament, then to me and then back to the ornament again. Wordlessly, she throws her arms around my neck, and pulls my head down to kiss me. When we pull apart, we’re both breathless. “Mrs. Grey! I am loving your reaction to my gifts. I'll make sure to give you gifts more often just to see that expression on your face…” I smile with my gaze darkening. She wipes her eyes with the backs of her hand then looks at the

ornament again. She holds it close to her heart as if it’s the most precious gift she has ever received. “I love it!” she whispers. “I just love it so much! And I love you! Thank you!” Her voice is appreciative, sincere and completely awed. She lifts the ornament up. It is a flying stork carrying a heart shaped bundle with a pink and a blue footprint stamped with the writing that says “LOVE before first sight”. She hangs it up next to our figurines. “Gail! Mrs. Jones, I mean Mrs. Taylor!” she calls out. “Yes, ma’am,” Gail comes discreetly from behind. “Could you help me to decorate the tree?” she asks. “Of course ma’am.” “Anastasia, I don’t want you on ladders or trying to reach to the top of a 12 foot tree." "But, I want to, Christian!" "No! I have professionals coming to decorate it for you. You can supervise them to the content of your heart. But, I don’t want my pregnant wife working on decorating a huge tree! Thank you Mrs. Taylor,” I say sending Gail off. “Christian! Don’t shoot me down. I want to decorate my first tree.” “You can help out with the lower branches. But, so help me God Ana, if I see you near a ladder, I will take you across my knee,” I hiss in a low voice. “You wouldn’t dare!” she says looking at me with a challenging look. “Are you goading me Mrs. Grey?” I ask raising my eyebrows. “You know you’ve been experiencing low blood pressure, and you have just gotten over nausea. I’m not taking a chance on that. You are not taking a chance! If you so desire, I will call Dr. Greene right now. You know the list of do’s and don’ts. I want my wife safe and secure and our child full term, tucked in his or her mommy’s tummy if we can both help it,” I say gently caressing her belly. “Okay…” she whispers. “I’m sorry for making you anxious. I just want to be the one putting every single ornament on the tree and every single item where they belong in our home.” “Ana… baby… No one can do it alone. Not in a house this size. We’ve chosen the furniture, accessories and paintings together. We’ve made decisions on every single pillar, tile, window, wall and architectural detail in our home. I don’t know how much more personal it can get than that? We have very heavy pieces of furniture. It will take crews of movers to position them. I don’t want my wife trying to do any the heavy lifting."

She sighs. “I know. I only moved into my apartment with Kate and that was only a small room, and then of course moved to Seattle with Kate to her condo. But, we didn’t have a lot to move, and Elliot helped us. I’m still getting used to having so much help, Christian.” “You have to get used to it baby. It’s just the way it is. It’s impossible to manage a house this size without a lot of help. It’s three times the size of our Escala apartment and we have a lot of grounds to have kept. That means, we’ll also have gardeners.” “Every day?” she asks surprised. “Maybe not every day, but about two or three times a week. There are trees, bushes, plants, grass, and waterfront to be kept.” “Okay," she acquiesces. "Are we staying at our new home tonight?” she asks hopeful. “Well, our bedroom is set-up, but I’m not sure if Mrs. Taylor got the kitchen ready to be used. I suppose, we can order take-out and have Mrs. Taylor shop for breakfast items for tomorrow morning if you have your heart set on spending the night at our home. The security is already set-up. The home is already being monitored.” “Does that mean we’re staying?” she jumps clapping her hands. “If that’s what you want, yes.” “Can we have fire, and sleep in front of the fireplace by the Christmas tree, Christian?” she asks. “You don’t want to christen our new bedroom tonight?” I murmur a little disappointed. “Well…” she says looking around, trying to make sure that no one is in hearing distance, then she leans in and whispers. “I’ve had this fantasy… I know it’s weird, but when Charlie Tango went down,” she says her voice breaking down, “I was so distraught. Then my gaze focused on the fireplace and I thought, we’ve never made love in front of the fire place. And I vowed that I would do that with you when you came back. But, we never fulfilled that fantasy in Escala. So, I think the first place we make love should be in front of the hearth of the house and by our Christmas tree.” A breath of air hisses out between my teeth. “Mrs. Grey, do you have any idea how turned on I am right now? I’m in the mind to empty this house right now to fulfill that fantasy. But, our tree is not

decorated yet. Let’s get it decorated today, and make this room, home.” Then I turn around and call out to Gail. “Mrs. Taylor!” she walks with brisk steps into the living room with an apron tied to her waist. “Yes, Mr. Grey,” she replies pleasantly. “We are going to spend the night here. Is there enough food for dinner and breakfast?” “The kitchen isn’t fully set up yet, sir. But I can certainly bring food from Escala. I’ve already prepared some, and we can stock up the pantry here in the next few hours.” “Thank you Mrs. Taylor. Yes, please stock up the pantry.” “Come,” I say, tugging Anastasia’s hand. The command center at the house is state of the art, and super high tech. Only Ryan is in the command center. He’s viewing monitors, and checking the comings and goings. “Where’s Taylor?” I ask. “He’s making sure that everyone that’s coming to the house is supposed to be here, and not just dropping in uninvited. I’ll call him sir.” I nod. “Taylor. Mr. Grey would like to see you at the Command Room,” he speaks to the radio on his sleeve. “Thank you, T!” he responds to Taylor’s answer. “ETA is three minutes, sir.” When Taylor comes into the office, it’s evident that he has been under the sun for some time in the Caribbean. He’s tanned, and looking even healthier. Taylor is wearing his suit even in this busy day. “Yes, Mr. Grey,” he greets me as soon as he enters into his office, otherwise renamed by the security detail as the “Command Center”. “Are the Christmas tree decorators coming today?” He consults his chart on his tablet. “We’ve got all the deliveries today, and the set-up is being done as we speak, sir. Ah, yes, the Christmas tree decoration is today. They’re due in about 45 minutes. The tree guys got here ahead of schedule,” he says frowning. “They called in extra help to get it in. I had to check their guys before the delivery.” I look up at him to see if there’s anything suspicious going on. He imperceptibly shakes his head once, to let me know that all looked okay. But the motion doesn’t escape Anastasia’s notice.

“Home decorators are working in all the rooms, right now, sir.” “I want them to first set up the living room and the Christmas tree. I also want a low seating area by the fireplace. Pillows, plush carpet, warm colors. Something soft, comfortable, and elegant enough to lie down and rest.” Anastasia blushes profusely. “Yes, sir. I’ll instruct them right away,” he says impassively, then nods at Anastasia. “Ma’am,” and leaves with quick, purposeful steps. When I take Anastasia out of the Command Center, I turn to Anastasia with darkened gaze. “So, Mrs. Grey,” I say, smoldering as I lock eyes with her. “You can boldly take charge in getting me turned on and demand to make love to me in front of the fireplace in our new home because of a hidden fantasy you have been concealing from me,” I qualify mock chiding as I lift her chin up to make her look at me, “but I can’t instruct the head of my security to create that environment in order to make that fantasy a reality?” She chews her bottom lip in contemplation. I tug her chin to stop her from biting her lip.

“I'm embarrassed of Taylor…” she murmurs. “Ana, they know what we do. You’re my wife. My wife… There’s nothing wrong with them knowing that I make love to my own wife,” I say with arrogant male pride. We all like to mark our territories. She’s my wife, and my territory. If anybody doesn’t like the idea, they can go fuck themselves. Taylor walks in with an efficient looking well dressed and well groomed brunette with pillows in her arms. She’s directing a group of assistants. “Mr. Grey!” she gushes as she hands the pillows to another female assistant. “Angela, Mr. Taylor will show you the location,” she says then turns to me with a practiced smile.

“Mr. Taylor asked us to set up a cozy fireplace seating area per your request,” she says completely ignoring Anastasia. “Would you like us to arrange the seating area closer to the fireplace? We can bring couple of the chaise and ottomans to create a warm and cozy environment,” she adds simpering. “That’s not what we want at all,” Anastasia says in an even, but commanding tone. Hallelujah! Her inner goddess finally finds her voice. “And who are you anyway? I don’t remember hiring you,” Anastasia reprimands. Her back elongates; she stands taller, takes charge of the room immediately. “I’m Susanne Stillfield of Bouvier Design Studio. I’m one of the partners. You have been consulting with Allison Bouvier but she’s flown to Atlanta early this morning due to a family emergency. I have just been able to look at the designs, but, I haven’t studied the final changes you two may have discussed,” she says extending her business card to Ana. “Is this a common practice that your company sends different designers at the last minute?” “No, ma’am. I apologize for the confusion,” Miss Stillfield responds chagrined. “Miss Bouvier’s mother had a heart attack early this morning. She’s in critical but stable condition. She had to leave and unfortunately didn’t leave me any notes for any changes you may have instructed. But we have all the furnishings here. If it’s a matter of rearranging, I’m sure we can easily do that.” “Yes. That would be fine, but where is Miss Bouvier’s assistant Julia? She knows all the plans,” Anastasia states. Somehow I know that Anastasia is testing this new designer. Smart girl! “Julia? Julie Clifton is her assistant, Mrs. Grey. She’s supervising the set-up of the bedrooms upstairs, ma’am. I’d be more than happy to assist you if you let me know what changes you require,” she says now in complete submission to Anastasia. Ana smiles, and takes charge of the new designer like a pro. She is in full dominant mode and it’s a fucking turn-on! ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

After the last worker left and the gates are closed and we’ve had our very first meal in our home with picnic-ware, I take my wife’s hand and bring her to our living room. The overhead lights are turned off; the twinkling lights from our

Christmas tree, roaring fireplace and the column candles around the room are providing a cozy and warm environment as well as a sexy one. “Oh, Christian! This is incredible! Utterly sexy…” she whispers. My eyes are on my wife, I can’t help but agree with her. “Yes, you are.” “Thank you making this house, our home. A very cozy home.” “For me, baby, wherever you are, is home. A house becomes home, because you’re in it.” “Christian, you say the most romantic things,” she says as she pulls me to her. Her hands circle around my neck, her lips reach up to meet mine. Her kiss is urgent and demanding; possessive even. Her tongue caresses mine in gentle strokes, urging me to take charge of her, consume her, love her. She digs her fingers into my scalp and demands to merge our bodies. “Whoa! Ana! Wait…” I stop her from going any further. “But, I want you!” she mewls. “I want you too, baby. But, I have something to give you first.” “You already gave me two things.” “Yes, but this is different.” She looks at me curiously. Old Anastasia would have complained for having been given a gift. Now that she fully understands we’re a couple, husband and wife, she doesn’t see my gifts anything other than a token of my love for her. I hand her a small gift box wrapped in a brown paper package and tied up with a simple construction twine. I’m not very good at wrapping things. The package is accompanied with a letter I wrote for her. She opens the letter first. Anastasia -- my beloved wife, I have struggled while I was writing this missive to you trying to put my feelings on paper. No, the task is not arduous but the words are not sufficient…the love…though I feel this word is inadequate in describing that churning, possessive, stormy feeling I have for you. It is so prevalent, so

singularly supreme that it hurts me and causes me heartache… I love you so damn much, you’re the first thought I have when I wake up, and the last when I go to sleep. I miss you every second you’re away from me. If I loved you anymore, I don’t think I could properly function. But the happiness, the

exhilaration I feel in offering my love to you is as vast as the Pacific Ocean. The joy it gives me is indescribable: euphoric comes close. When Pablo Neruda said “I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate

that when I fall asleep your eyes close,” his words just might come close in expressing what I feel for you. When I set this task of getting our home… what a lovely expression, our home completed in time for Christmas, I knew very well that I was only giving you something that money could buy. But your presence in our home as my wife, the mother of our child is something completely priceless. I’m not a man of many words, but you already know that. Yet, my feelings for you bring out this loquacious person with hopefully an elegant discriminating taste, someone who can arrange words like the poets of old to evoke feelings in you like a blasting volcano. So, here I am, borrowing words from a great poet who is perfectly expressing my thoughts in giving the keys to our home into the hands of my beloved wife.

“Walking in forests or on beaches, along hidden lakes, in latitudes sprinkled

with ashes, you and I have picked up pieces of pure bark, pieces of wood subject

to the comings and goings of water and the weather. Out of such softened relics, then, with hatchet and machete and pocketknife, I built up these lumber

piles of love, and with fourteen boards each I built little houses, so that your

eyes, which I adore and sing to, might live in them. Now that I have declared the foundations of my love, I surrender this century to you: wooden sonnets that rise only because you gave them life. (Pablo Neruda)”

Welcome home, baby.

Your loving husband, xoxo Skylar Grey - I'm Coming Home

After wiping her eyes unceremoniously with the back of her trembling hands, she opens the small box, and finds the key to our home. The next thing I know, she hurls herself at me with soft sobs.

“Ana! What’s wrong? Did I upset you?” I ask worried. “No! You… sweet, loving husband! You have no idea how much idea much your words make me happy!” “I might have an inclination,” I smile, feeling relief. “Now, about that fantasy of yours…” “Christian, I want you to make love to me by the fire, at the hearth of our home…” she whispers. “With pleasure,” I murmur sweeping my wife off the floor, careful to hold her sideways to not to disturb her slightly protruding belly. Even though the ceiling is two stories high in the Great Room, the warm fire from the fireplace, twinkling lights from the Christmas tree and the strategically placed scented column candles give the room a very cozy aura. The shag carpet is off white, soft as sheep skin, silky and made of bamboo, antibacterial and hypoallergenic both to keep my wife away from the irritants and make sure that she is comfortable

when I’m making love to her on the floor. Plush pillows strewn invitingly over the carpet. When I take her before the fireplace, I slowly lower her to her feet. “I love you Mrs. Grey,” I murmur ardently. “I love you too, Mr…” I don’t let her finish. As I seal my lips over hers, I swallow her final word, “Grey.” My hands make quick work untying her wrap around dress. As my lips are still sealed over hers, I let her dress slide off her shoulders. I would have never thought there would be anything more intoxicating then the sight of my wife’s lean, inviting body. I was wrong. The slight curve of her pregnant belly with my child in her is sexy as hell. I want her for me… I will always want her for me because I have not had the intimacy that she has given me with anyone in my life, but the fact that my possession of her now is completely evident to everyone who looks at her, as if I branded her from within screaming at everyone that ‘she is Christian Grey’s only love!’ we are one… One love, she is mine and I am hers.

“I love, love and love you, Anastasia Grey!” I whisper over and over again as my lips kiss her lips, along her jaw, her earlobe and finally moving down her sleek long neck. I inhale her scent deep and long. I knew Anastasia secretly worried that her pregnancy would turn me off. The way her body grew would be a repellent factor. But, nothing could be further from the truth for me. To make a point to that fact, I took her to shopping for pregnancy lingerie. What surprised me now is that she was wearing one of them under her wrap around dress. I only

realize it when my hands make contact with the lace of it. She is wearing the white chiffon babydoll lingerie which completely lacks coverage over her now another size grown breasts. My mouth simply dries up. I try to swallow. But my throat knots up. Anastasia simply looks like an angel plucked out of heaven. My angel. All mine! I’m the luckiest son of a bitch! “When did you…” I swallow again. Words fail me. “When?” I ask. Se bites her lip, then speaks slowly.

“Why so surprised Mr. Grey? Surely, as your wife, my aim is to please as well…” “Come…here…Mrs. Grey.” My voice is soft, but the command in it is unmistakable. Anastasia’s hands go to her back, clasping it; she straightens her posture and inadvertently pushes out her very perky breasts forward. Her nipples are tight beads straining to reach me, beckoning, calling for a touch, caress, suckling. She’s a siren; a goddess, and I’m helpless before her powers. My heart skips a beat in my chest. When my eyes manage to go below her breasts, I see that her belly button is slightly visible between the barely overlapping flaps of her elegantly laced lingerie. Beneath it her barely visible panties and a pair of white stockings pulled up to her thighs. All drawing attention to her sexy figure. Screaming out she’s a desirable, woman, a goddess of sexual pleasure, fertility, and a conqueror of man…this man: Christian Grey.

“The way you look tonight is so beyond compare that you would make the masters of ancient sculptures weep in awe that there really is a specimen of woman of perfection.” She blushes under my gaze. “Christian, I’m far from perfect. I have a lot of flaws.” “Not for me. You, Mrs. Grey, are made for me. You are perfect for me, just for being you. I wouldn’t change a hair on your head, baby,” I murmur. “You like this then?” she asks worried. “I don’t know if my pregnancy would turn you off as I get bigger…” she whispers. “It will get bigger…” her voice goes even lower. “Is that answer enough for you?” I say unzipping my pants and dropping to my feet with my boxers and all. My erection springs out fully extended, seeking relief, seeking her body. Anastasia gasps and takes a step forward towards me. Her hands encircle my cock and with her simple touch alone, my eyes roll back into my head. The veins on my phallus are throbbing like the jungle drum, the head of my cock turning purple with need of her. The next feeling I get is the wet warmth of the tip of her tongue spreading the single dew beaded on the tip of my cock around. That single point of touch spread fire around my body, burning me, consuming my entire being with desire. I gasp with a shaky breath. My lips part in the shape of an ‘O’. My hands seek her out, and I find her head level with

my cock. I open my eyes, and look down and see my wife on her knees situated herself upon a plush red pillow. The sight of her gazing up at me is my undoing. Her breasts curved up, nipples are small beads, tight and perky, while lace outlining them, and one her hands is on my leg with her lips circling the tip of my cock. She gives me a wicked smile when she sees the effect she has on me. Her tongue darts out as she holds my heavy length with one hand, and she licks the aching tip in a circular motion, then she leans in and follows a throbbing vein with her tongue, then reaching up to the now very sensitive tip, she dip her head and swallows my heavy length drawing deep and hard with enough power to suck the paint off a bumper! “Fffffuuuck! Ana!” Do I want her on her knees, on the floor like this? I can’t think straight when she just relocated my brain to the vicinity of my cock! My hands go to her shoulders, trying to pull her up. “Ana… oh God! Are you sure?” I ask in a stuttering voice. “My gift…for you…” she says with her lips touching the tip of my erection again. “There are no barriers between us, remember?” And it is true. Even though she is the one on her knees on the floor, I’m the one who is owned. She’s the master of my heart. But, I don’t want to come this way, I want my fill inside her when we are as one. “Slow… Ana… slow!” I instruct her. She slows her ministrations and pulls me to the hollow of her cheek. When she pulls her final draw of my cock, I clasp her shoulders and slowly raise her to her feet. My cock exits her wet and warm mouth with a suctioning pop. “Undress me,” I order. She smiles wordlessly knowing the full effect she has on me, and her hands reach up to the top button of my white shirt. I would have stopped her in the past since I couldn’t endure being touched at all. She broke all those barriers. I crave her hands on every inch of my body with the intensity of a starving man in a banquet. She stands in front of my only in her lingerie, stockings and her high heels. Her hair falls over her back and partly over her ample breasts in chestnut cascades. She slowly and leisurely undoes each button. Then she runs her fingertips over my chest hair lightly down to my belly button and over my happy trail. I remain motionless to let her enjoy her expedition, though not

touching her back proves to be a nearly impossible task. I focus on her face; the slight glow with the fire reflecting on the side of her face gives me glimpses of her slightly parted lips. Her tongue darts out to wet them absently. She moves her hands up again, under my shirt and slides it off my shoulders. It hangs from my wrists.

“Oops! I forgot,” she says giggling and walking behind me over unbuttons the cuffs. “Ta daa!” she says tossing the shirt onto a nearby chaise. “Oh…” she murmurs as if she just remembered something. She walks me back slowly with my pants and boxers at my ankles a couple of feet. Running her hands over my happy trail, and her hands lingers over my loins of Apollo, finally she skates her hands over my legs her gaze focused on my erection, making me ache for her. “You’re killing me, Ana!” I say and she finally reaches down to my ankles. She pulls my shoes off my feet and then my socks. Finally, my pants and boxers come off. “I believe it’s my turn, baby,” I say and lift her up to her feet. I lift my wife up to her feet, and turn her back to me. Pulling her flush with my body, I make sure that she knows how hungry my body is for her. My erection is hot, heavy and pulsating on her back. I run the back of my hand over her cheek. Closing her eyes, she leans into my touch, craving for more. I trail down to her neck, the

sides of her arms but completely bypassing her breasts, my hands come down to the flaps of her chiffon lingerie. I allow my hands to travel into the panels over to her belly. A loud moan escapes her lips, and she rubs herself to me. I rub and circle around her belly and slowly dip my hand into her panties stopping right under her bump. The blooms of her sex is soaked, ready for me as ever. I slide my index and middle fingers over her slit back and forth. “Ahhh!” she groans. “Hush now, baby,” I murmur. My right hand goes up on her breasts. She arches her back to allow more of herself into my capable hands. Her nipples are completely perked up as if she’s shivering in freezing weather, but it’s warm and pleasant in the room. Her nipples are overly sensitive with her pregnancy. Her lips part and she trembles under my touch. I’m hopelessly aroused, and completely seduced. I run my nose over her arched neck, kissing and nipping my way down to her shoulder. As she takes a sharp intake of breath when I squeeze and pull her nipple, I dip two fingers into her sex and run circles inside her. I continue to toy with her nipple with my fingers making her blood boil. Meanwhile my arousal is rising to meet and surpass hers, my skin is hot and covered with a mist of sweat, mixing with my cologne, and my personal musk, filling the air. “I’m going to lay you down now Mrs. Grey.” She makes a protesting sound. “I’m about to come, Christian! Please…” she begs. “Just image how much better it will feel when my lips suckling your breasts, my tongue licking your nipples, my fingers all over your delicious body as my cock is thrusting balls deep into your sex while your high heeled delicious feet are over my shoulders. Would that not be better?” She writhes in my arms. If I wasn’t holding her tightly, she’d simply fall to the ground. “Yes… ah! Please, Christian!” she begs. I turn my wife around and kneel before her. Her heavy lidded eyes darken and look at me. I slide her panties down and let her walk out of them. I lie her down onto the pillows and lean down over her lips. My thighs strain against hers and both of our breathing becomes labored. The outward control I’m displaying is about to be rewarded. My cock hardens even more in anticipation. As our lips take over each other almost violently, my hand clasps her breast and squeeze. The head of my cock strokes the mouth of her sex in delicious enticement. She’s soaked and ready. My cock is pulsing and thick automatically responding to the

suckling of her sex, and I surge inside her, going deep, until the base of my cock kisses the entrance of her sex. I gasp with pleasure, and remain there for a minute. She grinds herself, but I hold her still. Anastasia scrapes her nails over my ass to entice me to move. “Please, Christian! I need this! Take me!” I slowly pull back and fill her again with long and deep drives. She wraps her legs around my ass. I pull back again and shift the angle of my penetration and stroke her with tantalizing pressure, varying my thrusts. I want this to last a lot longer. I rub her in low and then high deep massages inside her sex, pumping her in my own timed and measured rhythm. Then I feel her building up. I lean down, and capture a nipple between my teeth giving her just enough pleasure and pain to both divide and conquer her focus. She clenches further onto my ass and quivers under my relentless drives. My lips leave her nipple with a loud suction and I find her lips. When she reaches her climax, I feel her inner muscles of her sex pulsating, and rubbing, pulling my cock deeper still in our race to reach our climax. We swallow each other’s moans as we both reach our peak. I trust into her once, “You,” thrust once again, “Are,” and a third time, “Mine!!” as my eyes roll back inside my head in an all-consuming orgasm. “Anaa! I love love love love you, baby!” I say, careful not to collapse onto her. When I pull out of her, she winces, but her eyes are dreamy, barely open. “I love you, Christian!” and rolls into my arms among the pillows across the fireplace. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

When the first lights of the day seeps in through the curtainless windows in our new home, I watch my wife to sleep in my arms. I try to stay motionless to not to wake her up, but her sleepy eyelids cracks open just a little under my gaze. “Hi,” she murmurs. “You’re up early. This carpet is pretty soft,” she says running her hand underneath us and finding sheets instead. Her eyes open a little wider and she glances around. “Oh, we didn’t sleep on the carpet,” she says half disappointed.

“No, Mrs. Grey, we didn’t. I wasn’t going to let the decorators to find my wife naked on the living room floor. I carried you to our bedroom.” I say decidedly. She smiles at my response. “Can I sleep a little more, or do we have to get up for the workers?” “I’m sure the workers can manage without you for a few hours, baby. But, I will get up to talk to Taylor.” “I want to get up, but, this baby is tiring me out.” “You sleep, baby. I’ll supervise them on your behalf.” “No… no. Just wake me up in an hour, please,” she says with barely managing to keep her eyes open. “I wore you out last night, Mrs. Grey.” “Mmm… You can wear me out anytime, Mr. Grey,” she says with a sleepy smile. “Go back to sleep Mrs. Grey,” I murmur leaning in and kissing her forehead.

***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

The furniture has been moved in and the Big House has been completely decorated within three days nearly without a hitch aside from the last minute decorator change. My wife has been nesting… big time. I wouldn’t know what that meant had I not seen her in full in take-charge-of-making-our-home-organizedmy-damn-way mode. It’s both a sight to behold and to worry because I don’t want her to get hurt trying to show the movers where the 1200 lbs of solid wood dining table should go by trying to hold it when they didn’t get the exact location she desired. I had to constantly try to distract her by getting her to give her input without physically exerting herself. Although she did look spectacular when she put on her yoga pants, a checkered shirt tied right above her baby bump with a black camisole underneath and a bandana tied on her hair. She looked like a greaser girl from the Outsiders on Sunday. “Earth to Christian Grey…” chimes Anastasia’s voice as she pulls our laced hands onto her lap. “What got you so deep in thought? Are you nervous?” “No, I’m not nervous,” I respond. But my hesitation worries her and a V forms between her brows.

“I’m…excited,” she says hesitantly. “If we’re lucky and the Blip is cooperating, we’re going to find out our baby’s sex!” she whispers as if she doesn’t want Taylor, and Miss Tiber to hear our conversation. Sawyer is following us behind in a different SUV. My fingers gently caress her belly. “You sure you don’t have a preference?” she asks. “No. I just want the baby to be healthy. If it’s a girl, she’ll have a great mother to take as a role model,” I say. “If it’s a boy…” I hesitate. “I couldn’t think of anyone who could be a better father than you, Christian. You’ve had a great upbringing. You’re a wonderful husband. No one could be more protective of the baby than you, or loving. Your love is very giving,” she says fervently. “If it’s a boy,” I qualify, “I have a great wife who makes me want to be a better man, a better husband, a better father. It’s still due to you, baby. Boy or girl, we need you and certainly depend on you.” Her mouth stays open with a stuttering breath. “Sometimes husband, you wash away all my worries with just one sentence, a look or a word.” “Are you worried?” “No. Not anymore,” she responds just as Taylor comes to a complete stop at the parking lot. We take the elevators to Dr. Greene’s office. A receptionist greets us. Taylor and Miss Tiber walks into the office while Sawyer stands guard just outside of the office door. The time slot is completely clear of all patients until an hour after we leave. The only one in the office is the receptionist, but a nurse walks out to meet us. “Welcome, Mrs. and Mr. Grey,” she smiles. The nurse is about thirty years of age. Her hair piled up into a tight bun and she’s wearing blue scrubs and she has hideous crocs on her feet. I never understood those crocs, but I guess long hours of standing on your feet requires comfort and not podiatric elegance. “Mrs. Grey, I’ll take you to the back now, ma’am,” she says. “I’m coming with her.” “She won’t be long Mr. Grey,” the nurse responds in a professional tone. “I’m coming with my wife,” I look straight into her eyes in a forbidding manner. “We’re not starting the exam right away sir. I just need to measure her height and weight, take her blood pressure, and collect a urine sample. Then she will

have to drink five glasses of juice, and wait for fifteen minutes. You will come in when we do the ultrasound.” “I know I did not slip into French when I’m speaking to you. Mrs. Grey doesn’t go in alone. I. Come. With. Her.” “Uhm. Christian, it shouldn’t take us that long to go and do those things, maybe fifteen minutes tops. I’ll be back out here.” “Ana, either I go, or Melissa goes in with you. You know the rules. I’m already here, and I’m your husband. I go where you go.” She smiles at the nurse apologetically, and pulls me to the side. “Christian, please. Let’s not make a big deal out of this. You already vetted Doctor Greene, her staff, and this nurse. There are only three people from her staff in her office right now. I’m sure I can manage to scream if something untoward happens. Just fifteen minutes, Christian. Besides, I don’t want someone with me when I’m peeing in a cup, not Melissa, or you, or the nurse,” she says giving me her most disagreeable look. “Five minutes, you go and give the urine sample, then I stay with you when you get your blood pressure and other vitals checked.” She sighs then lifts her hands up in surrender. “You may come and get Mr. Grey within five minutes. I’d like my husband to be with me when you get my vitals please,” she says with a sideways glance at me. “As you wish, ma’am,” the nurse says and leads Anastasia behind the doors. I stand and keep time. Five minutes on the dot, I walk up to the reception. The receptionist jumps to her feet and opens the door for me walking me back where Anastasia is getting her pulse and blood pressure checked. “Have you been experiencing dizzy spells Mrs. Grey?” she asks. “No. Why?” she asks. “Your blood pressure is a little lower than we would prefer it to be. It’s 95/50. Have you been dehydrated? Do you have bleeding? Have you eaten today? Do you have allergies?” the nurse asks in rapid fire. I grow concerned. “I had breakfast. I don’t have any allergies that I know of, and no I did not experience any bleeding. Although," she says pausing, 'knowing that I am going to drink several cups of water for the ultrasound, I admit I didn’t drink much this morning,” she says chagrined giving me a worried sideways glace again. I don’t want to scold her in front of the nurse. I cross my arms and frown my disapproval instead.

“Alright, then. I will give you orange or apple juice; whichever you prefer. The sugar in it should help to get your blood pressure to a normal level. Before I take you in for the ultrasound, I’ll measure your blood pressure once more just to make sure, Mrs. Grey.” Once the nurse completes her stats, she hands me five bottles of orange juice for Anastasia to drink. We are taken into a lounge with plush furnishings. I make sure Anastasia drinks every single bottle she's given. She looks at me guiltily. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “What are you sorry for Anastasia?” “For not drinking anything and worrying you.” I’m tight lipped, but I nod my acceptance. Fifteen minutes to the dot, the nurse walks back in with her blood pressure gadgets. “Let’s try this again, Mrs. Grey,” she says smiling. After taking her blood pressure, she quickly scribbles something onto Anastasia’s chart. “What’s the matter? Isn’t it back to normal?” I ask. “It’s 100/55. Slightly better, but we prefer to see it at 110/60. I’ll let Dr. Greene take a look at it. Now, would you follow me please?” she asks. I hold Anastasia’s hand and walk behind the nurse. We walk into a dimly lit ultrasound room. The nurse hands Anastasia a pristinely clean gown to be tied in the back and a paper sheet to later cover her bottom. “Please take your dress as well as your undergarments off, Mrs. Grey. The opening goes to back. You may use the restroom here for privacy,” she says pointing to a door. “You want all my underthings off?” Anastasia asks frowning. “Yes, ma’am. Dr. Greene likes to do an exam before the ultrasound. But, don’t empty your bladder. We need it full,” she says smiling. “Doctor will be in with you shortly,” she says smiling before she leaves the room. “I’ll go get dressed,” Anastasia says. “I’ll help,” I say, but she stops me: “no, I’ll do it.” “Anaa!” I chide her. “Christian, I know how to dress myself,” she says irritated. “I’ll let you tie the back once I put the gown on,” she adds taking the sting off. Why is she nervous? A few minutes later Anastasia emerges from the restroom with her clothes slinging over her arm. “I’m ready for you to tie the back Mr. Grey,” she says smiling.

“With pleasure, Mrs. Grey,” I respond and tie the two spots where there are strips of fabric to tie. The knock comes from the door and Dr. Greene walks in. “Hi Mrs. and Mr. Grey,” she says greeting us. “How have you been feeling Mrs. Grey? Any more nausea?” she asks. It turns out; Anastasia’s low blood pressure is something that may occur during pregnancy. She just has to eat and drink at regular intervals. During the doctor's examination... which I have to admit, I don’t like another person’s hands on my wife’s breasts, squeezing and moving about -- I have to restrain myself, reminding myself that it’s only for medical purposes, and for my wife’s wellbeing. Dr. Dr. Greene takes a measuring tape and measures the distance from the base of Anastasia’s breastbone to the top of her belly and then she measures the distance from the sides as well. Finally, she lowers the paper sheet to the top of her pubic bone and pulls the gown to Anastasia’s breasts. Pouring an ample amount of warmed gel onto her belly, she brings out a probe and moves it about Anastasia’s belly. Within a short time, we start hearing the now familiar whooshing sound of our baby’s heartbeat. “This little one has a healthy, strong heartbeat,” Dr. Greene says pleased. She moves the probe over various locations of Anastasia’s belly. She occasionally stops the image and takes measurements. “Now…” she says pleased and presses another button. The color on the screen turns sepia, and to both of our amazed gasps, the small face of a baby with closed eyes emerges. The baby’s mouth is making swallowing motions and one hand is covering his or her face. “3D Imaging,” Dr. Greene responds smiling. “Mrs. Grey, Mr. Grey, meet your baby. I’ll move the probe at just the right angle so you can see the baby’s entire body,” she says and moves the probe about Anastasia’s belly. “The blip’s kicking, Christian!” Anastasia says pointing to the monitor. “A regular soccer player. I’m sure Ray will be happy,” I respond holding Anastasia’s hand, giving her a tight squeeze. Dr. Greene moves the probe towards Anastasia’s pubic bone. The image that emerges puts a big grin on my face. Dr. Greene freezes it on the screen.

“I want five copies of that picture!” I say to Dr. Greene automatically. “Five copies?” Dr. Greene asks. “Whatever for?” Anastasia follows frowning. “Christmas presents.” “Christian, you can’t give the obscenely large pictures of the baby's testicles!” Anastasia gasps. “They look so big compared to his little behind.” “Our son!” I say grinning ear to ear. Dr. Greene shakes his head. “So, you did have a preference?” Anastasia whispers. “No, I didn’t. It’s just that seeing our child in 3D that got me excited, and it’s a boy,” I reply. I’m just pleasantly surprised that my son resembles me in a significant way. But, I’m not about to say that when Dr. Greene is around. “How about a nice profile?” Anastasia asks. “Okay, fine. But, I still want a picture of his gender,” I say. I can make the copies on my own. Both Dr. Greene and Ana look at me with raised eyebrows, then look at each other, and then sigh collectively. Dr. Greene presses a button and prints the image. “Are you making a video of the ultrasound, Dr. Greene?” I ask. “Yes, Mr. Grey. I will provide you with a CD.” “Good. Thank you,” I respond with an impassive face. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

“Let me ask you something, Christian,” Anastasia turns to me on the drive back. “If Blip was a she, would you still want to proof of her gender to our near and dear?” “Of course not,” I respond quickly. “But, you would of your son.” Her arms are crossed and her eyebrows are raised. “Ana, when men go into the locker room to shower, they don’t hide their dicks from one another. Well, unless they have a little one. It’s different with men,” I whisper. “But, if he was a she, the rules of the game changes. That doesn’t need proof.” I add.

“Being a male requires proof? I’m sure our family would believe us if we just said ‘listen up everyone. We’re having a boy!’ “ “I still want the proof, Ana!” I respond petulantly. She rolls her eyes. Then pats my hand. “It’s not like I didn’t notice the resemblance,” she whispers into my ear. “I don’t think I want to share that visual with other females in the family and our friends. Unless they’re idiots, they’ll draw the same conclusion, and I don’t want anyone’s mind wandering onto visualizing what is mine,” she says possessively. I lift her chin up to look up at me. “I love you, Mrs. Grey!” I murmur and kiss her chastely. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

“My idea of Christmas, whether old-fashioned or modern, is very simple: loving others. Come to think of it, why do we have to wait for Christmas to do that?”

Bob Hope

Bing Crosby - White Christmas

Bing Crosby’s ‘White Christmas’ is playing in the background. The Christmas lights are twinkling in red, blue, green and white on our Christmas tree that’s fully trimmed. A fire is roaring in the fireplace. Our big house smells of freshly baked pies, cinnamon, nutmeg and fresh muffins. Mrs. Taylor has been baking since yesterday. I’m itching to give my wife her Christmas present. Anastasia looks like a Greek goddess with her pregnancy dress and her hair braided atop her head. “I want to give you my Christmas present, Ana,” I say nervously. She looks excited like a child. Her eyes brighten, and she looks at me with expectation. Yes, expectation! I extend her my first gift box. She rips it open excitedly and finds a delicately framed letter in French with its English translation next to it.

“A few days ago I thought I loved you; but since I last saw you I feel I

love you a thousand times more. All the time I have known you, I adore you more each day; that just shows how wrong was La Bruyére’s maxim that love comes all at once. Everything in nature has its own life and

different stages of growth. I beg you, let me see some of your faults: be less beautiful, less graceful, less kind, less good… My one and only Josephine, apart from you there is no joy; away from you the world is a desert where I am alone and cannot open my heart.

You have taken more than my soul; you are the one thought of my life. When I am tired of the worry of work, when I fear the outcome, when

men annoy me, when I am ready to curse being alive, I put my hand on my heart; your portrait hangs there, I look at it, and love brings me

perfect happiness…Oh, my adorable wife! I don’t know what fate has in store for me, but if it keeps me apart from you any longer, it will be unbearable! My courage is not enough for that.

Come and join me; before we die let us at least be able to say: “We had so many happy days!”

Signed: Napoleon Bonaparte “Is this the original?” Anastasia asks with wide eyes. “This is a French national treasure Christian.” “It’s a profound love letter from a man to his wife. The man being Napoleon does not make it any more profound. It’s the content of the letter is what matters to me. I want you to remember that as intense as Napoleon’s love was for his wife, it could never match what I feel for you just a single day of my life. I love you Mrs. Grey. I will always love you. It will only grow. You’re my entire universe,” I murmur. I don't tell her whether it’s the original letter or not.

The next present I give her is an invitation to the Writer’s Symposium in New York in January. “You may take your assistant, but I’m coming with you,” I say, daring her to contradict me. Still enamored with Napoleon’s letter she replies, “Yes, yes, you are!” “And this is my present for you,” she says once she gathers her wits about giving me an envelope and a box. I open the envelope first. “I know how important it is to make decisions. My gift to you is to give you the final say on our son’s name.” I look up at her incredulous. “Are you sure?” I ask. “Granted that you will choose a list of name that doesn’t contain a name I dislike. But, other than that, yes,” she replies. I grin. She is gifting me ‘control of a decision’. Only Anastasia would know the importance of the meaning for me. She is relinquishing her choice of decision making and gifting it to me. Naming our child! “Thank you baby! But I would like you to be a part of this decision making. I don’t want you to hate our child’s name.” “You make a list of names, and I’ll cross out the ones I can live without. Then from the remaining, you make a decision. Would that be fair?” she asks. “Topping from the bottom?” I ask smiling. “Yes, I can live with that.” I open the next box. It’s small and contains a key and an invitation card written with a woman’s flowing script. “Carte Blanche. Subject to hard limits. Anyway you like, sir.” I grab her and simply possess her with my kiss. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

“Christian, what time are they coming?” Anastasia asks excitedly. “They should be here soon. Maybe in the next half hour.” “Our first Christmas in our home with our family!” Anastasia’s eyes gleam brightly. “Dance with me, baby,” I say pulling her to me when the song ‘Baby it’s cold outside,” start playing. She bites her lip.

Baby It's Cold Outside - Dean Martin

“Come on Anastasia, it’s Christmas, you look mouthwatering, and I’m ecstatic when I have you in my arms…” “If you put it that way, how can I resist. Take me away, Fred…” “With pleasure, Ginger,” I smile, and start dancing around the Great Room with my wife. I lower my hand to the small of her back and we continue dancing when the song switches to “Let it Snow” sung by Michael Buble. Let it Snow - Michael Buble

We’re interrupted with loud “Merry Christmas!” cheers of my parents, my grandparents, my sister and Ethan, my brother and Katherine and the Kavanagh parents. A cheerful greeting erupts in the house. “Well, what a joyous scene! Theo, you should dance with me like my grandson is doing with his wife!” “Woman, even though my bones are old, I don’t mind taking your around for a spin. I have that much youth left in me,” I hear my grandfather. We stop dancing and turn around to find a happy crowd made up of my family. “Oh! My! Gosh! Ana, Christian! Your house is gorgeous!” my sister gushes. Katherine Kavanagh whistles wordlessly. “Anaa! Your house is something. My man did a great job building it and kudos for your design choices! It’s spectacular!” Kate says with only happy vibes for her best friend. “Here!” she hands her wrapped gifts to me. “I’ll take them!” says Elliot rolling his eyes, carrying their packages by the Christmas tree. “What is that? Man! For a minute I thought I was at the Rockefeller Center! That tree is incredible!” “Nothing but the best for my wife,” I grin. “Hello dear,” my mom greets Ana. “You look so beautiful! Glowing!” she gushes. When we greet everyone, we seat them on our L shaped sofa. “What a beautiful picture of you, Ana!” says Mrs. Kavanagh noting Anastasia’s black and white photo over the fireplace.

“Breathtaking,” murmurs Ethan. “She is indeed,” I say, my gaze growing cold, I pull Anastasia to my side. “Can I offer you all something to drink? Mia, could you come and help me?” asks Anastasia moving out under from my arm. “Christian, would you give me a hand, honey?” she asks, extending her hand to me. Honey? “Of course, baby. What would you all like to drink?” “Christian is serving? That I gotta see,” says Elliot. “I’ll have a beer!” “Champagne please,” Kate adds. “White wine,” adds Mrs. Kavanagh. “I’ll give you a hand,” my mom adds. When we walk into the kitchen, Mrs. Taylor is still toiling there. “Gail, I thought you had the rest of the day off,” I say surprised. “I’ll help Mrs. Grey serve the food, and then feed the boys upstairs in our apartment. They’ll take turns eating anyway. This makes it easier for me. I enjoy doing this Mr. Grey.” “Thank you Gail!” Anastasia responds appreciatively. “The table is ready Mrs. Grey. I have already steamed the crab legs for you. I’m keeping them warm. Everything is set on the table. You should be able to have your guests there in a few minutes. We’re on schedule, ma’am,” she says with a smile. “Oh, thank you so much Gail! You’re a lifesaver!” Ana hugs her unexpectedly. “It’s my pleasure, ma’am… Ana,” replies Gail, making Anastasia smile. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

“Could we have everyone at the kitchen please?” Gail announces. “We set-up buffet style dining. Dining room is adjacent to the kitchen. Seating has been predetermined. You will find your names on the seats. Enjoy your meal. Merry Christmas!” and she lets Anastasia lead our guests to the kitchen. “Is there anything else I can do for you Mr. Grey?” Gail asks. “You’ve done enough already. Thank you Mrs. Jon… Mrs. Taylor. Go spend the rest of your Christmas with Jason.”

“Thank you sir. Merry Christmas!” she replies with her ever present professional smile. “Seafood?” asks Ethan. “We start our own traditions starting this year. The big Christmas tree up the day after Thanksgiving, king crab legs, scallops, lobster and the trimmings for Christmas and lots of dancing with my wife.” Ethan’s smile is a forced one. “Good choice.” The tablescape is simple spectacular. Everyone is cheerful and chatty. Filling their plates with the food Mrs. Taylor prepared. When everyone is seated around the table, I click my crystal goblet with my fork. “May I have everyone’s attention please?” I say rising from my seat. “My gorgeous wife Anastasia and I are very pleased for having your company on Christmas Day in our new home. Thank you for honoring us with your presence.” “Hear hear!” sounds around the table. “l am immensely thankful for having my beautiful wife in my life,” I say smiling lovingly at my wife who reaches out and holds my hand. I swallow, and clear my throat. “Thankful for the fates that brought us together, thankful for our little one on the way,” I say not revealing the sex of our baby. “And we are very pleased to have our family and our dear friends with us today. May this be the beginning of many wonderful memories! Welcome to our home! Merry Christmas! We hope you enjoy your food,” I say as I sit. The seafood is a hit, so are Mrs. Taylor’s pies. I watch Anastasia’s intake of food and drink. It pleases me to see her eat. “Elliot, we’re very impressed with your construction company’s ability in building Christian and Ana’s house. It’s marvelous,” Mr. Kavanagh praises my brother. “We might require of your services in renovating our home, making it more green like you did here,” he qualifies. My parents look at each of their children with pride.

“Ana, dear… You look amazing. I can't believe I am going to be a greatgrandmother!” my grandmother chimes happily, relocating her hand over my wife’s baby bump. “For heaven’s sake, Mrs. Trevelyan! Would you remove your hand away from Ana? Let the girl eat in peace…” my grandfather retorts. “She doesn’t mind!” my grandmother replies. “She’s just being polite. I’m sorry Ana,” he says leaning to see Ana. “Your grandmother is overly excited for the prospect, but I’m sure you’d like to eat your meal in peace.” “Have you thought of a name?” Mia chimes in. If I didn’t know any differently, I would have said that she has my grandmother’s genes. She behaves just like her. No mental filter whatsoever. “We have not, Mia,” I reply coolly. “Why ever not?” she probes further. “We haven’t got a clear idea yet, and it’s still 20 weeks away. We’ll let you know as soon as we make a decision,” I say, and Anastasia squeezes my hand under the table cautioning me for patience. When my father moves the conversation to football, Anastasia gives me a relieved smile.

“The food was excellent!” is the remark around the fireplace. We hand each family member two gifts. “If you open the small package,” Ana starts, “you’ll find that it’s identical with each of your present. We thought you might like to have it,” she says somewhat nervously. The gift is the same for my parents, my grandparents, Mia, Elliot and Kate. A collective happy gushing comes from each of them when they find the 3D image of our son sucking his thumb in his mother’s womb. “This is amazing! Theo! Look! It’s my great-grandchild!” “Our, great-grandchild!” my grandfather corrects her. “This is incredible, so lifelike!” “Oh, Ana! I’m so happy for you!” Kate hugs her. “Your baby is beautiful!” “Do you want to do the honors for the next present, daddy?” Ana whispers. “It’s a boy!” I grin as I make our announcement.

“The Grey dynasty…” murmurs someone, but I ignore it. It sure will be. The exchange of gifts is a very happy occasion and everyone seems to be very pleased with what we chose for them. Waning hours of the evening, our guests slowly depart from our home. This has been the best Christmas of my life. Somehow everything seems to find its place as if the puzzle’s pieces knew where they belonged. I take my sleepy but content wife up to our bedroom through the winding staircase in my arms. “Merry Christmas, baby,” I whisper as she closes her eyes. "Merry Christmas, Christian. I love you."

CHAPTER XXI I have spread my dreams under your feet; tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

W.B. Yeats

“Christian! You framed this picture?” Anastasia says, her voice is accusatory. “I thought you’d be happy that I have a picture of blip next to his parents wedding picture. You shouldn’t be opposed to having our son’s,” I say emphasizing, “first pictures to be displayed in my own home office.” “Not that one!” she says rolling her eyes. “It has the profile as well… See,” I show her, “they’re side by side.” “Bottom and the top view?” she asks raising her eyebrows. I shrug nonchalantly. “You’re not embarrassed of this. Are you?” she asks narrowing her eyes. It's not a question; it's just a statement of fact.

“Baby, don’t tell me you’re embarrassed of our son. Why should I be ashamed of my manhood or that our child is also a male like me? Besides it’s in my home office…” “Oooo-kay… let’s hear it…” she sighs knowing there’s more. “What did your dad and Elliott say?” she asks putting her hand on her back to support herself. I open my arms, and she walks into them, sitting on my lap. “Well, they thought it was amusing. You know Elliot. He will always have to some innuendo to inject into the conversation, but even he was speechless for a moment. Then of course, he recovered quickly and said he can see the Grey family resemblance in junior.” “But, you’re both adopted,” she replies. “Yes, but it is possible for us to be similar in that way. You haven’t heard Katherine complain about him after all. We, Grey men tend to be virile,” I say with a smirk. I leave out the part where Ethan Kavanagh looked like he swallowed a nasty bug. “That you are Mr. Grey,” she agrees nuzzling into me. “By the way,” she adds, “Ray liked his present you got him.” “We got him,” I correct her. “Christian, I know nothing about fishing. You’ve done a good job choosing the fishing gear for him.” “I couldn’t get a good read on your taciturn step father on New Year’s eve. I thought he didn’t seem overly enthused about it.” “Did he give you this speechless face, and do this?” she says and gives me a slightly wide eyed look nodding her head. “Yeah…” “Well, that’s as close as Ray gets cartwheeling for joy. He was happy,” she says confidently, grinning wide. “If you say so Mrs. Grey,” I say and hold her tighter. “So, are you excited about going to New York tomorrow?” I ask her. She furrows her brows for a moment. Is she not happy going to New York with me? “You’re not going to give me an excuse how you should be doing it on your own, are you?” “No…” she says mulling an idea in her head. “No, that’s not it.” “Spit it out Mrs. Grey. You worry me when you get this contemplative churning an idea in your head before you dish it out to me.”

She rolls her eyes. “My hands still twitch, you know,” I say giving her devilish grin. “I know they do Mr. Grey. I believe you amply demonstrated that last night at Escala.” “Are you complaining?” I ask cocking my head. “No, no… More like salivating with the thought.” “God!” I hiss the word through my teeth. I seat her on my lap like she’s riding me.

“Go ahead and say you mind before I decide to have you right here like this!” I threaten. She takes a deep breath. “I want to attend the ‘Writer’s Symposium’ just with my assistant. I don’t want to draw attention to myself with security around. You know, it’s New York City and I want to be able to just blend in. Nothing draws attention like professional bodyguards following you.” “Ana!” I start protesting. “Listen, Christian. I thought about it. It’s not that big of a deal. We’ll be out of town. No one would know me out there. I’d be just one of the crowd.” “Do you really think that you will be just one of the crowd? And you don’t want me coming along either?” I say too softly. “Well, I’d like to go with my assistant. And you can get business done while I’m at the Symposium. Besides it’s just a one day event. You’ll have me Monday. Then I go to the symposium on Tuesday, and you’ll have all week after

that. That really is not a bad deal.” I groan inwardly. I have only a few months left to spend with my wife alone. Then it would be the three of us, forever. Why can’t she understand that I need, I crave this time with her? Just for a few more months? “Have you been to New York City?” I ask knowing I will not win an argument if I tell her straight away it’s for her safety. New York New York - Frank Sinatra

“No, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to find my way. I’m 22 years old, Christian. Hannah’s been there twice!” she says as if this will convince me to give her the leeway to concede. “I see… A beautiful, pregnant woman like you all alone in a city like New York where there are homicides, rapes, robberies and aggravated assault on daily basis, you want me to let my pregnant wife loose in a city she’s never been? I don’t think so Mrs. Grey. You go with me and the security. That’s the end of the discussion.” “But, Christian!” she protests. “You’re, you know, you! This Greek godlike man! I don’t want half the man and all the women ogling my husband!” she says crossing her eyebrows. “Are you jealous Mrs. Grey?” I ask with a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “Maybe a bit,” she responds. “Baby, I only have eyes for you. Okay… The best I can do is that I take you to the event, but your security remains. Meanwhile I can just go to my own meeting. That way, we’re compromising,” I say giving her favorite word back to her. “You taught me that. You told me what you want, and I’m telling you what I can live with within the framework of your request. But, there’s no way in hell, I’m leaving you alone in a city like New York where there are other vultures.” “Christian, honestly! Who would want a pregnant woman when there are young, beautiful and available ones?” “Because, men find it challenging taking possession of a woman who belongs to someone else. You are mine!” I growl. “I don’t want anyone to make the effort.” I make a mental note to remind Melissa and Sawyer the three foot radius to keep the male colleagues away from her. “Okay, fine!” she replies, breathing through her nose. She's really mad. “It wouldn’t be that bad if you agreed some of my wants.”

“I agree with a lot of your wants. But what you demand right now is beyond what I am capable of agreeing. That’s why we call it a compromise. And besides, you would want swift transportation in New York because if you are utilizing public transportation I find it unsafe and they’re complicated. You’ll get lost. Not to mention it's winter and cold right now. Our apartment isn’t that close to the Symposium.” “Oh, for heaven’s sake! Okay, fine!” she says, acquiescing. “Since New York trip is your gift, I agree to the security. I'll just be with my assistant aaand my security at the symposium. You can go to your own meeting. But, you haven’t said anything about my gift so far. Haven’t you given any thought to it yet?” she asks. I know what she means. She wants to know about the baby's name. I have a way to get what I want. “I have a list compiled already. Would you like to give me your opinion?” I ask. She rolls her eyes again then extends her hand. “Just give it to me Christian!” “Oh, I’d love to give it to you Mrs. Grey,” I smirk. I finally hand her the list. Her eyes widen with the first name on the list. 1. Thaddeus 2. Agustin 3. Quinten 4. Graysen 5. Howard 6. Theodore 7. Legend 8. Roderick 9. Reuben 10. Maxton 11. Barnabas 12. Porter 13. Bastian 14. Jagger 15. Locklyn Oh shit! What if my plan backfires? She’s not saying anything yet. After getting over her shock, “Thaddeus?” she finally asks. “What would the nick name be for

that? Thad? Why don’t we just pin a ‘kick me’ sign on blip’s back? That’s what he’s going to get at school with names like that,” she says shaking her head. “There isn’t a single name you like in the list?” I ask nervously. “I kind of like Graysen. But it would sound awkward with Graysen Grey. Quinten sounds too morbid. I’m always going to think that director who makes scary movies. Howard is out. Legend? Oh, no! Roderick, hell no! Rueben sounds like a sandwich. Maxton? Pffff!" she lets out a big breath. "Really, Christian? Barnabas is out. I don’t think that name existed since the time of the Bible! Porter sounds like we want our kid to be a porter… no! Bastian… agh!” She groans loudly. “Christian, Bastian? How much thought did you put into these names? Who is Bastian anyway?” she asks exasperated. “You must have been inspired by someone to come up with these names, but I don’t remember hearing any of them from you. Jagger sounds like Mick Jagger and though I like his music, I don’t want that name to be associated with our baby. Locklyn is unique. I might. Hmmm…” she says displeased. “Mrs. Grey, you’re wounding my ego!” I say trying to hide my hurt. “Can’t you be any less critical or show some open mind to my choices. After all, you said to make a list of my favorite names and that you would choose the one you liked.” She hasn’t said anything about my favorite name. But then she may have liked two of the names in the list which I didn’t count on. I don’t want any of those names except one. “Theodore Grey… Theodore Grey… Teddy, Ted…” She’s mulling the name in her head, voicing it out loud. Hope rises in me. “Where did you get that name? It sounds familiar,” she says. “Grandpa Trevelyan’s first name,” I murmur shrugging. Her lips lift up in one corner. She now knows that it’s the name I prefer. “It’s a sophisticated name, yet it is also modern. Teddy, Ted… Yes, I like it. It’s between Grayson and Theodore but Grayson wouldn’t go so well with Grey. Maybe it might..." She's toying with me. I hold my breath. She finally grins. "Okay, okay, Theodore, then,” she says. “God, Mrs. Grey! I love you so much!” I hiss as I hold her face to kiss her. It’s an urgent kiss, passionate, full of love and possessive. “Mine!” I growl into her lip when I kiss her. Her fingers lace into my hair, tugging and pulling me into her. I groan.

“Oh, Mrs. Grey, I want to have you now, but we need to decide on the middle name,” I murmur. “Now?” she asks in a whiny voice. I don’t like to leave any business unfinished, and I would like to resolve the name issue right now. Besides, she’s more agreeable if her mind is on sex. “Okay, but we’re getting back to where we left off once we decide,” she protests. “I was thinking, since the first name was from my family, would you like the middle name from yours? Your birth father or maybe Ray’s name?” “Oh,” she says as a soft whimper escapes her lips. “Christian, that’s very thoughtful. But, I never met my birth father. My mother always says he was wonderful, but to me, he’s this mythical man. I don't want her to cry every time she hear's the baby's middle name. Ray raised me. He’s my dad; he is the one I counted on. And I noticed that you didn’t suggest Carrick’s name,” she makes a note. “I love my dad, but this is our baby. I’ve used my grandfather’s name for our son’s first name. I think it’s only fair that you get to choose a name for his middle name,” I tell her. “Theodore Raymond Grey. Yeah, it has a certain noble ring to it. I love it!” she says clapping her hand. “I thought we’d end up giving him two first names and two middle names considering all the people we like,” she smiles. “We don’t want blip to take five years to learn his names. Theodore Raymond Grey it is then.”

“I’m very pleased with our choices Christian! You’ve done marvelous as always, Mr. Grey. And don’t think that I didn’t know what you were doing," she mutters with a glint in her eyes. "I got your measure already Grey.” she smirks at me. “Are you smirking at your husband, Mrs. Grey? That will never do.” “Oh, I don’t know, Mr. Grey. After how agreeable I’ve been today, I think you can afford me a little leeway. I think as a reward for being a very understanding wife today, maybe you and I can go look for a crib for Teddy?” she asks sweetly as she places small kisses on my cheeks and lips. “Well, we had his room painted to powder blue and the decorator was supposed to help us to pick up the furnishing pieces,” I remind her. “Yes, I know but I want us to go and browse in the stores. Look for little clothes, and things that we would need for him. But I want to shop for a crib for our baby. I think we should choose that piece together without being suggest from a list of items our decorator’s catalogue.” “Whatever you want, baby. Now, about that love making session I promised…” I say as I ride the bottom of her short night gown up and slowly, savoring the vision of my wife, I take it off her. I come face to face with the halfmoon arches of her heavenly breasts. The curve of her pregnant belly is touching me. I caress her belly carrying our child. Momentarily I lift her up and get up off my seat. I carry her to the armchair on the other side of my desk.

“Christian, I want to make love to you!” she protests.

“No baby. You need to be worshiped and I intend to do just that!” I say my gaze darkening. I want to enjoy her with complete abandon. I stand Anastasia in front of the armchair. “Let’s divest your panties off,” I say and kneel before my wife and slowly, reverentially slide off the panties and let her walk out of them. Anastasia’s hair falls in cascades over her breasts and her beautiful back. Right now, she looks very much like the statue of Aphrodite, a pregnant version of her. I raise my gaze up to her from her waist height as I’m sitting on my knees. It creates a sea of madness inside me, churning up a tsunami of emotions. I want to kiss every inch of her body. “Sit!” I order, and she obeys. Slowly deposits herself into the seat. “I want you to hold the high back of the chair,” I command. She holds the sides of the back.

“No, the top of it,” I order. She slowly, sensually moves her hands above her head, and she grasps the top of the high back of the armchair. Her arms above her thrusts her heavy breasts forward and her nipples bead in need, begging for attention. “Legs…apart,” I murmur my next order. Anastasia looks at me her lips slightly part. “Make me!” she says in a husky voice laced with wanton desire and crosses her legs or attempts to cross them with her pregnant belly impeding her attempt. She settles for crossing her ankles just as tempting. I arch my eyebrows. “Mrs. Grey, are you goading me?” “I prefer the word ‘seduce’, Mr. Grey,” she responds batting her eyelashes.

“I’m a given for seduction, Ana. Now that you raised the stakes by challenging me…” I say and kneel before her and grasp her ankle and lift it up it my lips. She writhes in her seat. “Don’t move or I’ll tie you up, baby!” I warn her. “Let me just worship you,” I murmur. With that her breathing increases, her chest rises and falls rapidly, with it her breasts. I hold her foot and graze her instep with my teeth. “Aaahhh!” she groans curling her toes. But I don’t stop. Tip of my tongue runs on her arch to her toe. I fellate her toe with my tongue then confine it within the warm wetness of my mouth and suck it deep and hard, both promising and threatening her about what is to come to every inch of her body. She knows and nearly convulses with that single point of erotic connection. I then run my thumb on the outer edge of her foot, finally grazing her instep with my nail. That single act makes her open her leg wide open for me. Her ankles and behind her knees are particularly erogenous. When I suck the cartilage on her ankle she’s in a sea of madness. Tonight - Enrique Iglesias

“Oh, please, Christian!” “Patience baby, let me savor you,” I murmur as I trail kisses behind her leg making my way up to her knees. When I come to her knees, I slightly lift her leg up, and suck behind her knee. Her leg immediately stiffens and she shouts in pleasure. “Oh, fuck! Christian!” I continue to nip, suck and lick my way up to her inner thighs. When I reach nearly the apex of her thighs, I grab her other leg and repeat my ministrations. When my lips reach to her sex, Anastasia drapes one of her legs onto my shoulder. I push the other leg and place it on the arm of the chair. Her sex is amazingly glistening with the evidence of her arousal. But purposefully, I don’t dip my tongue into her. I run my fingers through her slit and coat the blooms of her sex with her wetness. She thrusts her hips into my fingers. My hands immediately squeeze her buttocks to warn her against moving. “Stop! I don’t want this to be over quickly. Savor it. Hold it in. Prolong the pleasure. Let it build up, raise the level of intensity, then only when I tell you so, you detonate your pleasure, baby.” She’s panting, her eyes wide, her irises dilated fully. She can only nod her acquiescence. I tease her clitoris with the tip of

my tongue and simultaneously I plunge my middle finger into her sex. Curving my finger at the knuckle, I locate the front wall of her vagina and deliberately keep her on the precipice, but not triggering her orgasm, just letting her build up. Then I cover her clit with my mouth and suck it hard and again leave her without reaching her climax. It’s the amount of surge, the erotic charge that accumulates that yields to the biggest orgasm fueled by many different erotic sensations. My lips move to her pubic bone to her protruding belly and to her belly button where I linger and pay close attention to pleasure. With my free hand I caress her hip bones after I drape her leg on my shoulder onto the arm of the chair. My lips and kisses make my way up to her sternum and in the valley between her breasts. They ache for attention but I avoid them. I have other plans for them. Anastasia automatically gives me access to her neck by arching it. My lips and tongue travel their way up to chin and her lips seek mine greedily merging. She moves one of her hands to my hair, but I grasp it and put it back on top of the chair. My lips move against hers first, nipping and sucking. My erection is straining against my pajamas, but I too must hold for the right moment. I want to kiss her roughly, possessively, worshiping, expressing what I feel for her in the most ardent manner. My body demands to take over. Yet I hold my desire back. My tongue meets hers. She’s the one who plunged into my mouth with her velvety soft licks. Showing me what she is demanding from me. Her tongue makes the plunging motions but I won’t let her top from the bottom. My tongue reciprocates in our sensual tango. I dip into her mouth, uninvited, yet very welcome. My plunges are deeper, extremely sexual, making her wetter. Her skin grows hotter. Anastasia moans deep, thrusting her breasts further. I extract my finger from her sex and my hands cup her sensitized breasts. I roll her nipples between my forefinger and thumb right at the line of pleasure and pain. She moans loudly.

I pull back and focus my attention on her breasts, thumbs kneading and stroking across, watching her watch me with hot, lascivious eyes, breathing laboriously. Her look back at me is also challenging to make this rougher and harder. The desire I feel for her is so intense, I couldn’t walk move even if the world was falling apart. She owns me. Right now, I want her to scream my name with pleasure. I want her to be so consumed with me even if it’s a fraction of the way I’m consumed with her, so that she think nothing else, but just the two of us. “Watch me,” I say and quickly divest my t-shirt and pajama pants. Then clutching to her breast with my lips, I worship her. My fingers imitate my tongue strokes on the other breast. One last deep pull as I roll her nipple between my teeth, and she screams my name with her drowning pleasure. “I’m damned and saved by you, Anastasia. You have no idea what you do to me,” I murmur. I lift her up, switching seats with her; I let her sit on my cock with her back to my chest. That way it’s easy on her belly. “Wrap your arms around my neck,” I hiss my command through my gritted teeth. With one swift thrust, I’m inside her soaking sex. “I want it rough and deep!” she groans as her sex squeezes my cock light a tight fist. Jesus Christ! This pregnancy made my already hungry wife ravenous for sex! I grasp her hips and control my strokes. If it’s up to Anastasia this would already be over. I want her to learn to prolong the pleasure and let its intensity grow exponentially. I grind into her and she trembles in my arms. She tilts her head back and her arms reach back and lace behind my head, giving complete and free access to her neck and her breasts. I lift her up and let her fall back onto the heavy rope between my legs. As she falls back, I spear into her, repeatedly. I

capture her earlobe between my teeth and tug it and then lick the shell of her ear, then trail kisses over her neck and her shoulder. My hands are both pleasuring her breasts, and exerting just enough pain like she’s being tugged by clothes pins. “Christian, I’m close!” she pants. “No! You’re! Not!” I counter, thrusting into her all the while. “Not. Until. I. Tell. You!” “Please!” she begs. “Hold! It!” I keep on pushing her to her limits again, let her build up. “When do you come?” “When you tell me to… Aaaaah! Come!” she says trying her hardest to hold back the pleasure. “Yessss! Come for me baby!” shout, and that’s when she allows her pleasure to detonate, shuddering and writhing in my arms. I follow her three seconds later shouting her name, completely replete. Will I ever get enough of her? Just when I think I might reach the precipice of getting my fill for the hour, I’m craving her more. Deeper harder, seeking a soul deep connection. She’s my other half. The part whose absence would make me simply go insane, the part that keeps me somewhat tamed and human. I am so fucking in love with her! ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

A perfect example of minority rule is a baby in the house.

“Mrs. Grey, we need to check the store for safety before I allow you to enter,” Melissa said in her no nonsense tone. “Melissa, it’s a big store, people will come in. You cannot possibly check everyone in there!” Anastasia protests. “Anaaa!” I chide her in a slightly exasperated tone. “Why couldn’t they have done this before we came here?” she asks. But, I know exactly why. This is the new method they’re using: the safety rings. They’re only opening a certain perimeter of safety ring by blending into the crowd like they too are regular shoppers whereas Sawyer and Melissa are connected and Taylor and Reynolds are holding the inner perimeter.

Taylor holds his ear, as he hears Sawyer’s confirmation. He exits the car and opens my door. Reynolds does the same for Anastasia. Ryan is at the home duty today since Reynolds and Ryan are on rotation. This is all for extra precaution because the paparazzi is now chasing Anastasia to get pregnancy pictures and to get a glimpse of her pregnancy style or find us together to see how she’s treated. It only raises Anastasia’s stress level. Even a simple outing to a store becomes a massive chore. Currently, Anastasia is more popular among the paparazzi than Prince William’s prospective wife Kate for having captured my heart and getting pregnant right after. I do not like this one bit, and it’s keeping our security on alert at all times. We’ve had several brush offs with them since I was engaged to Ana some of which were completely unpleasant. I don’t want them to scare my wife and put her and our baby’s lives in danger. The momentary discomfort is worth the safety it provides.

Taylor drove us to the only store with the safest cribs that links new and emerging technologies to monitor the baby’s local environment. I’ve read that a number of babies die due to sudden infant death syndrome. I’d like to prevent that at all cost. There are some crib systems that integrates the air circulation, video monitor as well as a built in lifting system to pick the baby up. It will help Anastasia right after she gives birth. Because, I don’t want her to strain herself to lift little Teddy. This one particular model I have researched also automatically rocks the baby to help with sleeping patterns. Now, it’s only getting Anastasia agree with it because she might just opt for the style of the crib foregoing the safety features this particular one I liked. Anastasia is surprised when she sees the size of the store. It’s three stories of only baby items from strollers to cribs to clothes, bottles and other knick knacks that I need to learn to identify. The store manager greets us right away. “What a pleasure to have you here, Mrs. And Mr. Grey!” she gushes. “How may we help you today?” “We’re going to look at the cribs and bassinets.” “Of course! I’d be happy to show them to you and explain their functions. Is there any brand or style in particular you prefer?” she asks. “We,” Anastasia says looking at me for my agreement, “prefer a color that may go with just about anything. “No rich or deep colors, then?” the manager asks looking at me, a little flustered. I, in turn look at my wife deferring the answer to her. “No, not in our baby’s room.” “I see ma’am. Are you shopping for a boy or girl? Sometimes styles vary depending on the baby’s gender. Quite a few parents have fallen in love with our Cinderella series with the carriage shaped cribs,” she says walking us towards the cribs. “Or, if you prefer it for boys, then we have race car shaped cribs which are quite popular among the expecting first time fathers of little baby boys.” “I don’t want something gender specific. What we want is a safe, functional as well as a stylish crib.” She walks us to various styles, color choices as well as price ranges. “How about that one?” I point to an unopened box of a modern looking crib. “We haven’t set the floor model up for it yet. It just arrived from London. Apparently, it’s one of the safest models not only in Europe, but the world. As you can see from the box, it has quite a few modern safety features. Because it

deviates from the traditional cribs, it scares some parents. Because, they want parenting to be as organic as possible, sometimes quite a few security features make the first time parents a little over anxious. It may take away from the experience,” she says trying to lead us to a frillier model. “Open it, and set it up. Let’s see the ease of use and I want Mrs. Grey to be able to see all its features before we make a decision,” I say with a commanding voice. She clears her throat. “Of course, Mr. Grey,” she gushes. “I’ll have to get one of our handymen. They take a lot shorter than I do in setting them up,” she says with a compulsory smile. “Excuse me please, Mrs. and Mr. Grey. I’ll go get our tech!” she says stumbling on her words as she leaves our company. “What was that about?” Anastasia asks. “Anastasia, I want our baby to be safe. He’s not going to the castle ball like Cinderella. I’m looking at these and seeing all kinds of way the baby can hurt himself when he manages to stand up on his own or you for that matter trying to get him out of the crib. They forgo certain safety features to add style!” I say. “Christian, I’m sure FDA or whoever is looking into the safety of these items approved them for sale.” “Ana, your old Beetle was also allowed to be on the road even though it was a complete death trap. When it comes to you or our baby, bare minimum is unacceptable. I want the safest. I’ve read that over 2000 babies die from SIDS and that’s mainly because of unsafe sleeping practices. No! I’m an anxious parent. Our child has to be in safe!” “I agree!” “Besides, I thought you wanted a color that matched with everything…. And…” then it dawns on me that she may have agreed with me on something. “What did you just say?” I ask shocked. “I said I agree with you Mr. Grey,” she says with a smirk. “Are you smirking at me Mrs. Grey?” “I am, Mr. Grey,” she says biting her lower lip, then she gets her voice to a whisper and leans up to my ear, “But, I know you aren’t going to do anything about it because I am with you 100% when it comes to Teddy’s safety. And right now, I think you are so damn hot when you are fervently protecting our baby, if we weren’t in a store, I’d ask you for a repeat performance of this morning, right here, right now!”

God damn it, Ana! She is arousing me so publicly, inconveniently and so fucking suddenly. I give out a low growl. “Taylor!” I shout. “Yes, sir,” he appears beside us. “Have the store delivered this particular brand and model to the big house. No need to set it up,” I say without breaking my gaze away from Anastasia. “Certainly, sir,” he says. “We’ll go and browse other items. We don’t need the manager’s escort,” I say. I need to walk this erection off without the prying eyes. “Come, Mrs. Grey,” I say tugging her in the same tone when I say ‘come’ when she’s beneath me. She slowly exhales her breath and follows me.

***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

The Enemy Territory Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.

Sun Tzu, The Art of War

This is the fifth burner phone he is using. Each call required a new one. He didn’t want to leave any trails after all. He is a predator learning each and every move of his enemy. He underestimated him. He had all these years to study him and yet he didn’t. He was too confident; too arrogant that such a blow and defeat could come from that scrawny boy whom he heard didn’t even manage to speak until he was six years old. In those years, he thought that Christian had mental deficiencies. Well, if someone was as fucked as he was as a child, it stood the reason for him to be mentally scarred for life, didn’t it? Those ones would either become sociopaths, criminals or completely go the other way around and become some meek individual with no backbone. The rare few would become the ruthless in their chosen field, like himself, he thought. Oh, he had hatred for him alright. But he also had a devious fascination and decided to understand his prey inside out. How did the boy who was a charity case for his former wife/sub became the master of the universe he lived in? He would find out and defeat him with his own weapons in his own fucking game and do it so slowly and most painfully. “The report!” he barked into the burner simply in his ever present deep commanding voice, ordering, leaving no questions about his expectations. He would like to think that if there ever was a god, that’s what he would have sounded like. He expected weekly reports from his hired gun. Sometimes they were in an anonymous digital format which crossed at least five different locations to be delivered to him. Pictures, sounds, videos... He needed to know his prey’s routines, means, travels, the way in which he coddled his wife or all that he cared for. But he already firmly and rightfully decided that the wife was the way to hit him. From the news circulating on the papers and his ears on the ground confirmed that the bitch nearly got killed to save her sister-in-law. Imagine what she would do to save him? He never liked the emotion of love. He firmly believed that it’s one of men’s greatest weaknesses and for those unfortunate enough to have enemies, a great tool to stab you with. Nothing and no one would hurt as much as the pain inflicted by or through one you loved ones. In fact, if he did it correctly, he would leave his enemy in eternal torment for the kingdom to come and when he delivered the final blow, he would know that it was him who fucked his life over, just like he did to him! But until that moment came, he needed to get to

know the enemy. If he was going to catch the tiger by the tail, he better know how fucking snuff the life out of that said tiger. “His jet is getting prepped to leave to New York. The whole package is going to be on it, including four of his dogs. Do you want me to install a small gift to be delivered midway through their destination?” Was this fucking psycho an idiot? Way to alert the Homeland Security by blowing up his plane in mid-flight! He’s been a fucking mercenary outside the country far too long. He didn’t want a federal crime! He wanted it to be personal. And how would snuffing the life out of Grey, his wife and dogs be fun in this method? He wouldn’t get to tell him he was the one who fucked him! “No! We stick to my plan! You do not move, make decisions or even breathe without my permission. We wait. I will deliver the final blow. You are just the means in which to get me to that point. That’s what you’re being paid for. Excessively, I might add.” “You’re the boss, but there are ways to make it look like an accident.” The boss squeezes the bridge of his nose as if to ward off the oncoming headache. What a fucking idiot! Grey’s chopper was sabotaged by Hyde. Did he really think that a second aircraft incident would be accounted as an accident? And how original was that, really? Why would he, the master dominant, copy an incompetent, angry idiot with no evident self-control like Hyde? “I want his and his wife’s schedule for the next six months. You will get it for me and do it stealthily. I make the plans and I tell you when to deliver those plans.” He knew all warfare is based on deception. If he were to be victorious in this plan, he couldn’t have been hasty like he did with Hyde. In order for him to win, he had to win first; the game had to be check mate in his mind before he started it, before he started his war against Grey. Because, only defeated warriors went to war first then seek to win like the way he did last time. This was different. This was a winner-takes-all game. All the pieces had to fall in the right place. “His schedule? I can follow him and know the routine, but it would cost you more for me to get his schedule from a company with as many layers of server protection in his computer systems as the Pentagon!” “You never go to the main gate if you were to storm a fort! Didn't that teach you in whatever secret government organization you were a part of? You find a tunnel, a Trojan horse to ride in. You have one already. The SIP’s system is the way to do it.”

“I tried. It’s been overhauled.” He really was exasperating. “Must I spell it out for you? They accept manuscript submissions. All you have to do it is to create a tunnel which is not a virus at all. Then you deliver the virus through the tunnel you’ve created. You don’t have to infect anything. In fact, why don’t you just crack her assistant’s smart phone? That would be the best way to enter into their system. You deliver the tunnel to her smart phone, and once she’s in the SIP Wi-Fi, you download Grey’s wife’s schedule. As far as the computer system is concerned, you, the Trojan horse will appear as her assistant, and the machines are not humans. They don’t get suspicious of other machines. Only if you fuck up, that is! They only see her phone and it’s friendly to the SIP system. Tie your tunnel into Grey’s wife’s email or smart phone then you are linked to Grey directly!” he says exasperated. The line on the other side is silent for a moment. “That…actually just might work brilliantly!” his henchman says. Of course it can! Because he was the one who thought of it! “If they’re both out of town tomorrow, it might be the best time to work on the assistant’s phone. I want updates next week, same day, and same time. Meanwhile you continue to deliver your scheduled reports. Are you riding behind the Calvary tomorrow?” he asks implying if he’s flying after the Greys to New York. “Yes, sir, to both counts. Right after I deliver the bridge to the assistant,” the henchman responds in his deep voice. The boss finally presses the ‘End’ button on the burner. Takes the battery and the SIM card out breaking it into pieces, and then tosses the whole thing over the pier and into the ocean and walks away.

NEW YORK I can’t with any conscience argue for New York with anyone. It’s like Calcutta. But I love the city in an emotional, irrational way, like loving your mother or your father even though they’re a drunk or a

thief. I’ve loved the city my whole life — to me, it’s like a great woman. Woody Allen

“Ana!” I chide her. “We’re going to take off in ten minutes. You need to turn off your Blackberry.” “I know! I know! But, Hannah has to bring some important manuscripts that I forgot to pack. I don’t have them in the shared drive so I can’t access them from outside, not with all the overhauling IT guys have done. And we needed those for introducing some of our up and coming writers. So, she’ll have take a flight late tonight or early tomorrow morning.” “Will she make it on time? Do you want me to come with you to the Symposium? My offer still stands,” I say to Anastasia. If the assistant isn’t there, I need someone in very close proximity to her. Anastasia rolls her eyes. “No, Christian! She’ll make it tomorrow afternoon at the latest. Even if she doesn’t make it which is unlikely, I think I can handle myself. Besides, I should be able to show the others I can do well alone.” Then she lowers her voice. “I told you, you’re a distraction to others, and I want them to pay attention to what I have to say instead of ogling my husband.” I pout in her remark knowing the effect.

“I think Melissa can play the role of my assistant for one day if Hannah can’t make it to the Symposium on time.” “Okay. I can live with that, though that is not what I desire. Since I’ve compromised, I think you owe me big time, Mrs. Grey.” “Big time?” she asks her eyes widening. “Yes. Carte blanche kind of big time.” “Carte blanche,” she says trying the word for size, suddenly breathless. I reach and take her Blackberry off her hand and turn it off without looking at it, and drop it into her purse. “Yes, last time I was here, I went to a business meeting all by myself. I was distracted with your disobedience and I was accosted with the most unwelcome advances by both female and male vultures.” Her head snaps up. “You never said anything about that!” she says, her voice accusatory. “I was preoccupied with the thoughts of my wife. Nothing to report, but since I’m attending to a similar meeting, I am quite sure the business guests would be part of the same crowd. But this time…” I say pausing; I want my wife in my arm showing her presence with her spectacular body and with her sassy and in charge self, showing her possession of me, and I of her. “…this time, I want you with me and I don’t want anyone have any doubt about who I belong and who belongs…to…me.” A loud female voice interrupts our conversation. The flight attendant is giving the spiel for the aircraft safety. This time I pay close attention to it, because I have the two of the most precious cargo with me: my wife and our baby in her womb. Yet, in that moment, Anastasia’ reaction to what I just said to her doesn't escape my notice. She first blinks then her lips part as if to say

something. Oh shit! This could go either way. Is she mad? She turns her head to the flight attendant with her eye brows crossed. Once the mandatory safety instructions are over, I fix my gaze on Anastasia. She takes a deep breath getting ready to collect all her wits about her so she can deliver her most forbidding speech.

Then she opens her mouth to say whatever has been brewing in her mind within the last few minutes, but she’s interrupted by Stephen’s voice echoing through the speakers cautioning us to fasten our seat belts and that we are in line for the take-off. The word ‘take-off’ puts the fear of God in Anastasia. Her hands automatically hold onto her seat, her knuckles going white. I can see the anxiety rising in her. I immediately reach out and hold her hands, and run comforting circles on the back of her hands and her palms. Our brunette flight attendant comes and quickly collects the empty glasses and plates from the seats. I hear collective clicks from Taylor, Sawyer, Melissa and Reynolds’ seats in the back. My company jet starts taxiing on the runway first slowly then comes to a full stop taking its position in line with the other airplanes for take-off. Then I hear the last click of a seat belt from the back of the jet. It’s probably the flight attendant. Stephen’s voice comes up again. “It’s 11:06 a.m. local time. We are the third airplane in line for take-off. Please observe the seat belt sign until it is turned off. We are going to arrive in New York City’s John F. Kennedy Airport at 8:38 p.m. Eastern Standard Time.

The total estimated flight time is 6 hours and 32 minutes. As always, it’s a pleasure to serve you. Please, sit back and enjoy your flight!” Anastasia continues to breathe rapidly. “Relax, baby. I’m here. Focus on me…” Anastasia blinks a few more times. “Ana, look at me,” I say softly. The last thing I want is my wife going into early labor because of her fear of take-offs. When she looks at me, I give her my most dazzling smile to keep her focused on me instead of her fears. The best technique is the distraction technique for Anastasia. “What were you upset a minute ago?” I ask. “Oh!” she says first frowning. “That I didn’t bring any party clothes,” she says with a contemplative voice. “You have to take me to shopping, so, I can look my best when I kick the asses of those who wanted a piece of my husband!” “Mrs. Grey, are you jealous?” I ask, my eyes darkening. “A bit! You are mine just as much as I am yours, Christian. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me anything about it!” she says distracted. “There was nothing to tell except that I deeply felt your absence. It was one of the worst days of my life and there were so many other emergencies to deal with then, I had not remembered it until today. But I still don’t want to talk about that day. It’s… unpleasant,” I murmur remembering Hyde's break-in to our apartment. “Okay, Mr. Grey. I guess I won’t let you out of my sight when we go to your business meeting. Is it a meeting?” she asks with an afterthought. “It’s hobnobbing with other big money and businesses from continental U.S., Canada, South America, Europe and South East Asia. Meet and greet, make connections, make business deals while socializing. Normally, it’s quite boring actually but since you will be coming, my night is looking so much better,” I say grinning as the jet speeds up on the runway with terminal velocity and Anastasia’s grip on me gets stronger. The second the wheels of the jet loses connection with the ground, and the nose of the plane is at a steep angle climbing up, Anastasia’s eyes widen. “Breathe, baby, breathe. It’s just the take-off. We will soon be at cruising altitude,” I say looking for something to distract her again. “How did you like the crib we chose? Were you just acquiescing with me for my sake, or did you really like it?” She thinks for a moment. Oh oh. That can’t be good. “I like it,” she says nodding.

“That’s it?” I probe. “Yes. I don’t think he would appreciate a girly bedroom, and I’m just as anxious as you are for his well-being. Since we are first time parents and neither one of us know anything about parenting, I’d like to think that any little thing that can give us a hand or a leg up is welcome. We’re going to get a nanny; we've discussed that, but I want us to be hands on parents. I think it was actually extremely sweet that you had researched it beforehand to know what exactly you wanted, Mr. Grey,” she says. “What? How?” I ask surprised. “Oh, I think I’m getting the measure of my own Grey man and I must say, I love this anxious, protective parent side of you. It makes me proud to know that you are going to be a magnificent father.” She’s smiling and completely sure of herself. “God! I love you Mrs. Grey! You are the center of my entire universe. Everything rights with you and somehow finds its bearing,” I say kissing her hand. At that moment the overhead lights dings and Stephen turned his seatbelt sign off. “This is your Captain speaking. You are now free to roam in the cabin.” “See, piece of cake,” I say grinning at her.

An hour into the flight, Anastasia gets sleepy. Her two naps are now firmly in her schedule. The growth of the baby is taking a lot out of her. So, I walk her into the cabin with the bed.

“Will you lie down and hold me Christian?” she asks yawning. I have to go over business documents, but my wife is more important than those. “If I lie down with you, I don’t know if can keep my hands off you long enough to let you sleep,” I say truthfully. “I’d rather have you with me than not even if you can’t keep your hands off me, Mr. Grey,” she says and yawns big again. “Agh! Fuck it!” I say and take my shoes and socks off. I slide my jacket off and drape it over a chair. Finally pull the duvet cover up and tuck my wife in it and lie down next to her. I turn the lights to dim and pull her into my arms. The last time I was in the plane was when I was flying back from New York, livid, completely beside myself, just intent on reaching to Anastasia in Seattle. Here she is, in my arms. I hold her tighter.

“I love you too, Christian. Night,” she says with a smile in her sleepy voice. I kiss her hair. “Sleep tight baby,” I whisper. “I love you more.”

***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

Our driver meets us at baggage claim with a sign in his hand that says “MR. TAYLOR”. Taylor raises his index and middle finger like the Boy Scout salute and gets the driver’s attention. He’s in his full driver regalia down to the chauffeur’s hat. “Welcome to New York, Mr. Taylor, sirs, ma’am, ma’am,” he says individually and collectively greeting us. “I’m parked in the parking garage.” “How’s the weather outside?” I ask. “It’s about 26 degrees at this hour. I wasn’t sure if your flight would be on time given the weather conditions of our fair city. We have only had moderate snow, expecting heavy snow in about a week, but I think it’ll come down by the end of this week. It’s very cold outside. You might all wanna put your coats on.” he says. When we exit the warmth of the airport into the covered but freezeyour-ass kind of cold airport parking, the onslaught of cold blasts rushes in from all sides; the bitter wind whistles. I wrap Anastasia tighter in her coat. She wraps her scarf to cover her reddened face. Our breaths are smoky wisps. The driver quickly locates the limo and unlocks the doors. “Brrrr! It’s so cold! I’ve never been in such cold weather!” Anastasia says. “That’s New York in January, ma’am,” says the limo driver whose name tag reads “Barney J. Hn” as he’s opening the door. He has salt and pepper hair appearing to be in his late 50s.

“Pardon the expression ma’am, but when we get into the city you’ll see that people are like rats scurrying in such an overflow and in a hurry in this cold weather. Because everyone wants to get out of it and find some warm corner to heat up.” I help my wife in while the driver helps Reynolds, Sawyer, Taylor, and Melissa to load the luggage. Everyone files into the vehicle and the driver moves. The limo is cold, but Barney turns it on and blasts the heat. Manhattan - Rod Stewart

The city looks gritty, dark and hard at around 9 p.m. at night. As the limo speeds through, Taylor is recapping the logistics with the group of security. Ana is curiously looking outside trying to observe the onslaught of the city that is New York. The traffic is rushing scornfully and Anastasia looks mesmerized with the smoke billowing from the manhole covers. When we stop at a red light, the ground underneath us rumbles making Ana startled. “It’s the subway,” I remind her. She nods as her mouth is open. “Lights are everywhere and they’re so bright! Wow! I don’t think the inhabitants of this city have seen the stars or the moon in ages with this much light pollution!” she says trying to twist her head to get a glimpse of the sky. Her eyes are alight with a drunken excitement everyone gets upon seeing the city of New York for the first time. The look says it all: a lot of awe and some intimidation, but mostly expectation. As we drive through the city towards our apartment, Anastasia notices people outside. Some are just looking straight and continuing on their road rapidly, oblivious or uninterested with the going ons around them. There’s that few who occasionally look up. “Hmm…” Anastasia remarks. “If my observations from Seattle are correct, those who rush by oblivious of the beauty around are local New Yorkers. And those who are looking up every so often like the city is going to grow another skyscraper from the ground are visitors of the city. “You’re right. No Native New Yorker would stop in the middle of the road to stare up.” “I never asked you, Christian. Where’s your apartment?” Anastasia asks her eyes alight. “Our apartment,” I emphasize, “is in Manhattan’s Upper East Side.” Anastasia looks tired, but she tries to fight it off with her excitement of being in the city of New York. The limo driver navigates his way through the one way streets, and turns into the street where our apartment building is located.

When the limo pulls in front of the apartment building he carefully slows down and comes to a complete stop. A doorman rushes to open my door. Taylor lets himself out from the other side and our security detail piles out quickly taking different positions scanning the area then proceed to get the luggage. I help Anastasia out of the car. “Careful baby, there might be ice on the ground and you have heels,” I says mentally kicking myself. I should have made her wear sneakers or something. This sort of weather is not for podiatric excellence. When the doorman sees me, he beams. “Mr. Grey! How nice to see you back in New York, sir. Welcome, ma’am.” “Thank you, Donald. This is my wife, Mrs. Grey.” “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Let’s get you into the warmth of the building. The weather has been unpleasantly cold even though we haven’t had much snow,” he says as he opens the door into the building. I palm some money into Donald’s hand as the gush of warm air greets us, welcomingly. I press the button to call the elevator. Taylor sidles up to me, and discreetly clears his throat. I raise my eyebrows to look at him.

“I’ll take the service elevator with Reynolds to quickly do a sweep, sir. I’d appreciate it if you could delay reaching the penthouse for about three minutes. Let me secure your living quarters,” he says. I give him a sideways nod imperceptibly and he looks at Reynolds and they leave in quick steps. “What was that about?” Anastasia asks.

“Nothing to worry about, baby,” I say. “Are you tired? Or well enough to go out to dinner?” “I’d love to go out, but I feel bushed.” “Okay, we’ll order in, then. There are some wonderful restaurants with excellent cuisine here in the neighborhood.” The elevator doors ding open. Three young people cheerfully chatting exit the elevator and head for the door after tightening their coats and scarves. “We’ll wait for the next one,” I say as newly arrived residents get into the elevator holding the door open for us. The businessman shrugs and lets the doors close. “Squeamish to be with others in the same elevator space, Mr. Grey?” Anastasia asks. I roll my eyes in response and press the call button for the elevators again. Once the elevator arrives into the ground floor and the doors ding open, I hold Anastasia on the small of her back and lead her into the elevator space. Both Sawyer and Melissa enter into the elevator after giving a cursory glance into the foyer of the apartment to make sure no one threatening is there. I press the button for the penthouse and enter my key. As the elevator takes us up, Anastasia laces her fingers with mine. When we finally reach the penthouse, the elevator doors slide open. Sawyer holds the door open, and Melissa quickly steps out and scans the foyer. Anastasia rolls her eyes, and as she tries to step out of the elevator, I stop her and scoop her off the floor in my arms. She’s surprised and holds onto me with her arms wrapped on my neck. “I have to get my wife through every threshold.” “Mr. Grey, you’re a true romantic,” she whispers. “Only for you baby,” I murmur and land a chaste kiss on her lips. Taylor comes to the foyer and nods imperceptibly. “Would you like something to drink?” I ask. The refrigerators should have been stocked. “I’m actually famished. I have a craving for lamb like you got from the deli I found on Pike district.” “Taylor?” I call. “Agora Restaurant has a similar cuisine,” he says. “Then order lamb skewers, yogurt sauce, hummus, stuffed grape leaves, rice, salad and bread for two.” “Yes, sir,” Taylor responds and walks away.

“Come, let me show you our room,” I say pulling her behind me. The bedroom is in the shades of white and accented with cream color. Seeing two walls with steel framed floor to ceiling glass she opens her eyes wide and gaze into the Manhattan skyline. There’s a wraparound balcony outside. She surveys around and her eyes drift to the ornate ceiling. “Very fancy,” she says softly. “The apartment was built in 1933. Prewar architecture. It was remodeled consistent with its former glory but with modern amenities.” “The walls are quite high…” she murmurs absently. What’s wrong with her? “Yes, bedroom walls have twelve foot ceilings,” I say taking a step toward her. I stand right before her and turn her to me. Breathe - Anna Nalick

“What’s wrong, Ana?” She shakes her head. “Ana! Please! You were fine during the flight, and even during the ride here. And as soon as we got to the apartment, you don’t look well. What. Is. Wrong? Before I assume the worst? Please, I’m going crazy!” “Oh, Christian. I’m feeling so insignificant! All this,” she says gesturing around, “all this opulence. And you, this magnificent man! Hearing about others hitting on you, women who actually belong to this sort of life… I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed.” “There are many reasons why I love you Ana, but one of them is this… that you are completely unaware of your own worth or that you don’t care what I have and you don’t love me for my wealth which is all the more reason for me to want to spread the world beneath your feet. All these other people, women,” and occasional men, but no need to mention that to her, “who salivate behind me, do so because of this package. It’s about what I have and how I look. What do they know about me? Nothing! They like the persona, they like a good fuck, they like to be seen with a billionaire and show up in the gossip magazines. But, you…” I say softly lifting her chin up to meet my gaze, a smile tugs at the corners of my lips, “you are unlike anyone. You’re my reason for being, for existing. You are the love of my life! The minute you entered into my life, you dimmed every star, because you’re my sun! I’m blinded to all that is around me. You first spun my life out of its orderly orbit then pulled it back into yours. I never wish to be without you again. You’re my life now.

What you see here… all this is yours. I’d give you this and more, Ana.” She gives out a heavy sigh. “All I want is you.” All I want is you - U2

“I know, but I come with this package,” I say shrugging. “Thank you for your love Christian. I love you so much, sometimes, I feel like I’m going to wake up from this dream and you’ll be gone.” “That’s not gonna happen baby,” I grin. “I can prove that to you right now if you so desire.” “Well, you can demonstrate your love in the shower, Mr. Grey,” she says biting her lower lip. "With pleasure, Mrs. Grey!" I say as I slowly peel off her coat and her scarf. "In fact," I say and lift her off the floor cradling her in my arms, I walk into the master bathroom. I turn the water on hot and walk under the cascading waters with my wife in my arms.

***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

Hannah

“Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod! I’m gonna miss my plane!” Hannah cries out to no one in particular as she runs as fast as her Manola Blahnik clad feet could carry her through the newly waxed airport terminal. She is making a mental inventory as she is rushing through. Her Hermes purse contains her personal items, her smart phone, tickets, wallet, ID, as well as the manuscripts Ana forgot. She could of course just look at them on the laptop but she felt the needed to print them because she needed to mark and highlight them for Ana, and they needed those for this symposium. It’s important for her to get Ana’s approval. She, after all is married to the Boss’s boss’s boss’ boss. An opportunity like that comes only once in a lifetime. Hannah reminds herself to go over the manuscripts twice on the plane and summarize them for Ana. Oh wait! Did she remember to pack the thumb drive? It would be a monumental fuck-up if she forgot that! That was the reason she is now taking a commercial flight as opposed to flying in the Grey Enterprises Inc. jet along with Ana's panty-dropping type of good looking husband. She has her personal items in her a carry-on, her laptop bag complete with the charger, mouse and the thumb drive and of course her coat is hanging from her arm among many items she is carrying with her. But she is having second thoughts on having worn a pencil skirt and silk blouse. Very business-like, but not airport worthy when you are flying cross country. Just as she nears the airline counter she collides with another passenger who is just as much in a hurry as she is. “Shit! Fuck! Sorry! I’m soooo going to miss my plane!” she complains and goes down the floor on her knees and to collect her scattered items. “I’ll help,” says the stranger’s voice. That's the least you can do for colliding with me, she thinks but what comes out of her mouth is, “I got it!” “No, you haven’t," says a husky voice. "If you’re going to be on that plane to in such a short time, I'll have to help you. Let me make amends for my carelessness. Have you even checked in?" “I checked in online!” she retorts but getting a good look at him, her eyes widens and she softens. “Suit yourself. But they aren’t gonna let you take all these items on the plane,” he says collecting a lip gloss carelessly rolled on the floor and tosses it into her Hermes bag. He then quickly collects a few other items still spread around the floor. “Ohmigod! Ohmigod! I think my phone broke!” Hannah laments, now completely anxious.

“It’s okay. I think just the case came undone.” “Oh no! The battery is gone!” “It’s right there,” he says pointing a few steps to her right, and she reaches to get it, just a tad bit relieved. It would be the biggest, most horrible kind of fuck-up if she damaged her phone! He quickly places the little chip under the SIM card while she's retrieving the battery. She extends her hand for the phone and he hands her the smart phone, the backing as well as the cracked the plastic case. Her hands shake. “Please, let me,” he says and gently takes it away from her. He swiftly places the battery on the back of the phone, secures the cover then clicks the case in place. He finally presses the power button. The screen flickers to life. He imperceptibly exhales a sigh of relief, and hands it to her. “Good as new!” “Thank you! I better hurry!” She says halfheartedly, slings the Hermes purse, the laptop bag, and drags her carry-on. “Your coat?” he says smiling under his Seattle Seahawks cap, extending her stylish coat to her. “Oh, yes! Thanks! On the second thought, I better check this in!” she says and quickly head for the bagged check-in.

***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

The flight attendant is about the close the door. "Wait! Wait! I need to get on that flight!" she calls out desperately. “You’re the last person to make it to the flight, ma'am. We were getting ready to close the doors.” Hannah hands her boarding pass and the flight attendant wishes her a safe flight and sends her on her way. With the top speed Hannah rushes down the gate and makes it into the airplane. She’s flying business class today. She locates her seat right away, and places her coat on her seat. Then she places her laptop bag into the overhead bin. She will get it down once she’s marked everything on the paper. Then she exhales a well-deserved a sigh of relief. After removing her coat from the seat, she sits and buckles her seatbelt draping her coat over her legs. Then she gives a cursory glance to her

surroundings and her fellow passengers. Her eyes widen when she sees the young man who helped her earlier in the seat across the aisle. “You!” she says. “Well, I’ve been called worse names than that, but I prefer to go by John.” “I’m sorry, I apologize,” she shakes her head. “I’m Hannah. You’re a lifesaver. I didn’t get a chance to properly thank you other than just muttering. I’m usually not that uncoordinated or rude.” “This must be an off day then.” “You can say that. I had too much to do and a short time to do it.” “Glad you made it on time. It’d be unfortunate to be deprived of your beautiful company during this flight." Hannah blushes with the unexpected compliment. She looks at John and realizes that he’s a ruggedly handsome man, with green eyes, slightly overlong hair. There’s something hard in him though, just like the muscles he’s hiding under his t-shirt. After the usual spiel of how to buckle and unbuckle your belt or how to save yourself or your fellow passenger in the unlikely event of a plane crash…blah blah blah… Hannah isn't listening. She wants to look at the man sitting in the next aisle without appearing like a man-hungry dork, of course. The plane taxies and takes off. Hannah finally takes out one of the manuscripts and starts highlighting and annotating the parts of it. Just as soon as the flight attendant gives a green light, the passenger who calls himself John opens his iPad. He then searches for the icon that looks like a chess piece and locates the exact device he is seeking. He double clicks it, and activates it. CIA couldn’t pay him enough for the skills he possesses. He is going to make a shitload of money after this job is complete. The horse is delivered. Now onto the next step. He closes the icon, and opens up his Kindle app. He can afford to relax a little now with a very imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lip. He hasn’t been to New York since he took this contract. He missed the frenetic energy of it. What did George Carlin say about New York? “Of course, in Los Angeles, everything is based on driving, even the killings. In New York, most people don’t have cars, so if you want to kill a person, you have to take the subway to their house. And sometimes on the way, the train is delayed and you get impatient, so you have to kill someone on the subway. That’s why there are so many subway murders; no one has a car.”

He thought those were the idiotic murderers. There is an art even to killing. Even though he found it distasteful learning about his prey, his current client seemed to get off and draw some sadistic pleasure in getting to know his victims, he didn't care. Whatever floated his psycho boat as long as he paid him on time and regularly. That sick bastard got a lot of satisfaction in studying and stalking his prey…through him of course. The client liked to learn their habits, their natural habitat, almost to fuel his despise of them to have more reason to make his crime personal and he wanted to watch life snuffed out of them. John, however didn’t like that sort of personal shit. He didn’t like to know who his victims are, what they like, where they dine, or even their names. Just an image. Then it was only business, impersonal, just a notch on your very accomplished belt. But, he’s seen sicker shit, has done his own kind of sadistic crap in his mercenary days. He didn’t care one way or the other. It wasn’t personal for him after all. Just business. Juuuust business, and leans back in his seat reading his favorite author: Stephen King. When the flight attendant comes by to take his drink order, he replies: “Grey Goose. Make it a double,” and without looking back to her he goes back to his story, “Survivor Type”. He has a few hours to kill after all.

CHAPTER XXIII Never interrupt your enemy when he’s making a mistake.

Napoleon

HANNAH

The overhead sound of the captain jolts Hannah from her uneasy slumber in her Business Class seat. John eyes her surreptitiously in the dim light of the aircraft. “…we’re approaching John F. Kennedy Airport. It is currently 25 degrees at our destination and the local time is 1:10 a.m. We know you had your choices of airlines when it comes to air travel. We thank you for flying with American Airlines and hope to see you soon…” the pilot goes on giving instructions to the flight attendants. John has already packed his items, and the last item, his iPad

carefully tucked in the front pouch of his padded backpack. He puts his seat in the upright position getting ready to disembark the plane. The whining babies can be heard in the back of the plane and John barely has patience for them. Luckily he’s sitting in the front and he won’t have to encounter them. When the plane lands and decelerates across the runway, he turns his iPhone on and syncs it with his iPad. Several other passengers are turning their phones on and informing their loved ones, friends or family members of their arrival. He waits for Hannah to pack her few items and turn her smart phone on. Once she’s online, her phone appears as a dot on his map and he inwardly smiles. ‘Gate established,’ he thinks to himself. When the plane comes to a complete stop at the gate, he slowly gathers his jacket on, grabs his backpack and his only luggage, the small carry-on. He gives Hannah a dazzling smile, and indicates with his hand that she can have the right of way first. Hannah smiles back, overwhelmed. They both walk out to the curb where there are no cabs to be had as other latecomers grab them or “Out of Service” signs is lit. John takes a step off the sidewalk and steps in front of a cab with “Out of Service” sign lit. The driver reluctantly stops and opens the driver’s window to yell at him. John takes three hundred Dollar bills holding it between his index and middle finger making it evident that he is going to make it his worthwhile. The driver immediately shuts his mouth. “Plaza Athenee Hotel,” he says just loud enough that Hannah can hear it. She’s holding onto her coat tight and her legs are freezing in her silk stockings and her pencil skirt. That’s her hotel! “Wait, wait, wait! Please,” she shouts. John lifts her head up with a surprised look as if this was totally unexpected. “I’ll share the cab with you. I’m going to that hotel as well!” Hannah says rushing to the cab, already losing the feeling of her toes and kicking herself for not being fully prepared for the New York weather. The driver lifts his hands up in surrender. “No skin off my back, young fella!” he says and pops his trunk open. He places Hannah’s luggage and closes the trunk.

John opens the cab’s door for the very grateful Hannah. The warm heat of the cab greets her from penetrating ice cold wind. “Isn’t someone picking you up?” Hannah asks once John enters into the cab. “I’m perfectly capable of getting from one place to another. Then again, no one’s picking you up either,” he notes. “I didn’t have time to plan for a pickup. I was in a hurry,” Hannah says, trying to check her e-mails smart phone and sends a quick response to Ana informing her she’s in New York and with the manuscripts and that she’s on her way to her hotel. They would see each other tomorrow. Then she tucks her phone back into her purse. She then turns her tired gaze to the handsome profile who is looking outside the cab. Straight nose, slightly curved lip, strained jaw. Why? Stressed? Upset. The curve of his lip says he’s pleased with something, but he also seems tense. She clears her throat, he turns towards him. “Thank you… Again,” she says. “I was rude earlier.” “Earlier? Would that be when you were getting on the cab or at the airport back in Seattle?” he asks. “I’m sorry. Both,” she says chagrined. “I’d freeze my butt off if you didn’t share your cab, and you helped me out at the airport. I was unkind. So,” she says lifting her hands up, “I apologize… John.” “I’ll accept the apology if we could have a drink together,” he responds. “Uhm… I have to work… I have a conference, a symposium” she corrects herself, “to attend.” “All day and all night?” John asks raising a quizzical brow with a slight curve of his lip. “I don’t know if my boss wants me to accompany her in the evening. I couldn’t promise,” she replies. John scoffs as if it doesn’t matter to him one way or the other.

“Then, you can’t surely expect me to accept an insincere apology. Words mean nothing if they’re not backed with actions,” he says and turns his determined chin to cold the darkness of the city with street lights trying to break through the descending fog. He’s handsome, he was helpful on more than one occasion, and she has been an ass to him. Hannah feels chagrined. She takes out a business card. “My cell phone is on it. I have to be prepared for the conference all day tomorrow. Call me after 7 p.m.” she says extending the card. When he doesn’t turn, she adds, “Please. I am willing to back my apology with actions. I am truly sorry for being an ass. I’ve been ungrateful and unkind. Please! My treat!” “Apology accepted,” he says turning to her with a dazzling smile and takes the card, slightly brushing her hand. ‘Bated and snagged,’ he says internally smiling. ‘I’ll reel her in so fast, her head will spin!’

NEW YORK STATE OF MIND New York State of Mind - Billy Joel

Something keeps softly tapping into my palm, first rhythmically then impatiently. It’s certainly not painful but insistent enough to wake me up. I slightly open my eyes; it’s still dark. The only light in the room is from the flickering dance of the fire in the fireplace. Ana is sleeping my arms; my legs are tangled with hers. One of my arms is cradling her head while my other arm is on her belly. The tapping continues under my palm. It’s not tapping. The baby is kicking. The baby’s kicking? He’s kicking my hand! My son is kicking. Excitement and anxiety immediately courses through me, running a shot of adrenaline through my veins. I sit up immediately jolting Anastasia in the process. She groans and turns onto her back and then cracks her eyes open.

“Hi,” she whispers, but then her dim light shows the change in her expression as sleep slowly parts her face. “What’s wrong?” she asks as she sees the shocked expression on my face.

“Nothing’s wrong. Our baby woke me up. He’s been kicking. Feel it,” I say in awe and bring her hand over her belly. “Our little Blip is awake and wants to play with his parents,” I whisper reverently. “Teddy,” Anastasia corrects me. “Teddy wants to play,” she smiles. “Hi Teddy,” I say suddenly hovering over my beautiful wife. I lean down to her protruding belly, and gently push away her gossamer nightgown. I rub my wife’s pregnant belly and kiss the spot he’s been kicking non-stop. I’ve not bothered to put her panties after the last night’s bed tango for possibly a morning sex. But, right now, our baby’s got my attention.

“Are you playing soccer in there?” I ask smiling. “He’s his father’s son. Probably kickboxing like his daddy,” Ana smirks. “Are you smirking at me, Mrs. Grey?” “Yes, I am, Mr. Grey, but in a good way. Our child has been very active and he seems to be keeping late hours. As I recall, you used to do that. Get up in the middle of the night to cause a ruckus with your dreadful piano playing,” she says in a teasing tone. My face takes a mock horror. “I had no idea you thought my piano playing was dreadful. How shall I punish you for that insult?” I ask tickling her. She starts giggling. “Oh, Christian! Please!” Then she laughs hard nearly tearing up.

“I take it back! I take it back! You play wonderfully!” Big laughter… How I love that sound. “I was just teasing you!” Her laughter continues. “I just love that sound,” I say totally enamored with my wife as I stop my ministrations. “I’ll stop but only because I don’t want my son to decide to get out and join his mother in teasing me before his time." I lean down again and kiss her belly. And continue kissing her as I make my way upward towards her chest. She gasps arching her neck when my hands reach to her breasts. “Ana!” I exclaim. “Are they tender?” I ask concerned. “No, they’re not tender, but overly sensitive coupled with my beloved husband’s touches, he can make me come just by looking at them…”

“They’re fuller, bigger, luscious, womanly…” I whisper and my lips latch onto her pink nipple, drawing it into my mouth. When she moans her pleasure, I suck it deep and graze the tip with my teeth. My fingers glide between her breasts slowly then trail down to the peak of her belly, and finally down to the top of her pubic bone. I cup the bereft breast with my other hand, cradling it possessively, rolling the nipple between my thumb and the forefinger, teasing her breast with capable fingers. Her breathing grows shallower with my ministrations. I pay homage to her other breast with the wet warmth of my mouth. Just as I dip my finger between the folds of her bloom with my right hand, I release the abused

nipple inside my mouth and then graze her now wet and sensitized bead with my day old stubble. The feeling would possibly feel like running a hundred Wartenburg pinwheels over her eager, sensitized mounds. I pull back and gaze at her nipples which now stand out like luscious and firm beads. I lean down again and scrape my stubble across her hypersensitive skin in circles first slowly and gently, then faster and harder, back and forth driving her crazy. Her sweet arousal from her sex in return fills my nostrils, driving me crazy, insanely lustful. Our large master suite suddenly flames and engulfed within our collective passion. Anastasia’s breathing increases, and her legs are wrapped around my torso. My erection is straining against my silk pajamas, but I’ll have to endure the pulsating ache a little longer to make it more pleasurable for both of us. You Sang to Me - Marc Anthony

I run my lips and my stubble first run between her breasts and I make my way down to her bellybutton painfully slowly. Both my hands reverentially, sensually hold her belly. I kiss it and then I dip my hand back into her sex. It’s soaking. I untie the lace of my pants and kick it off to the ground. My erection springs forth seeking Ana’s wetness, a new pleasure excoriates its way to the surface. I take my erection into my hand and place it into the opening of her eager sex. As I slide my cock into my wife to the hilt, a low moan ebbs out of Ana. I begin moving; sliding slowly out then back in. Her inner muscles clenches and I let out a deep throated groan, thrusting my head back. She’s primed and ready to come. I can feel the slowly accumulating waves. “Not yet! Don’t come!” I hiss clenching my teeth. “Let it last!” “Christian!” she moans. She lifts her hips up. “Please!” “Hold it!” I command. “Hold it until I let you!”

I thrusts deep into her gently, feeling the sensation of each stroke, but the movements are rhythmic, timed. I feel the pull of her inner muscles, the flutter of her clitoris, and she begs once again: “Please Christian! I can’t come without you saying so! Please!” I am powerless when it comes to the intoxicating pull of her lush body, her begging, and before I surrender fully into the pleasure I thrust deeper and faster like a thoroughbred racing towards a winning finish. Our breathing increases. “You will wait! Wait for me!” I hold her hips, angle it just so that the pleasure remains just below the peak, but not ready to come. She shifts her angle seeking release. “When do you come, Ana?” “When you let me!” she shouts. “Please!” “That’s right, baby! Come for me baby!” I growl with a deep guttural voice. Anastasia shouts her pleasure with my name a litany on her lips when the base of my cock kisses her sex. I’m lost in my wife; I hold her hips and angulate just the right way to thrust twice more before I succumb to complete ecstasy and get lost within my wife. I hold her just like that for several minutes. Then when I pull out, the sound of suction is heard; Ana winces, appearing sad with the loss of connection.

“I want to go for round two,” she says pouting. “Jesus, Ana! You’re insatiable, baby. Give me time to recover, and I’ll make you come all night.” And I do.

***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

“What do you think about this one?” Ana asks adorned in a stunning burgundy cocktail dress. The dress’ cleavage plunges down to the top of her belly. Waist of it starts at the base of her ample breasts. Anastasia twirls and the back is even more revealing than the front. The slit of the dress is up to her right thigh. “Ana!” I gasp. My mouth goes dry. “You like?” she asks looking at herself in the tall mirror. “I more than like; I love it. But,” I say making a twirling sign with my index finger asking her to turn around. She opens her arms and turns once more. I clear my throat. “It’s too revealing…here,” I touch between her breasts. “And here…”I whisper as I touch the small of her back. “Aaaand, here,” I murmur touching the top of her thigh.

“These are mine! I don’t want the world’s elite salivating after my wife guised as compliments.” “This is yours as well,” she says as she’s holding her belly protectively. “I may not have been in New York before, but I have been amply warned by a bird that there was no shortage of women who were unleashing their inner bitch. I would like to have your eyes on me, only,” she says biting her lip. I purse my lip trying not to laugh. She’s jealous. “In that case Mrs. Grey, we’ll get that one as well,” I say. We’ve purchased six pregnancy outfits. The personal shopper brings shoes to match with the dresses and the rest of the outfits. Only they’re not just shoes. They’re statements of fashion, designed to enhance a woman’s elegance to elongate her legs, and to accentuate her beauty. They’re simply works of art. Anastasia looks stunning in every single one of them. “She’ll get them all,” I say. “Christian, I don’t need them all. Just one would do.” “She wants them all,” I order the shopper. “We also need you to bring coats to match with the outfits.”

“Of course Mr. Grey,” she says and quickly retreats. “Christian!” “Ana! Don’t start it please. You’re my wife. I want you to have them. You’re worth much more. I think a pregnant mom to be needs to get spoiled a little. Can’t I do that for you?” She sighs. “Okay, I suppose.” The personal shoppers comes back with a rack full of coats to match with each dress and then more. She retreats after telling us that she’ll be readily available if we need anything else. I like a red Full-Lapel draped wool-mohair Lanvin, white Nina Ricci, and a black Donna Karan on my beautiful wife. “Christian! I know you like them, and so do I, but considering all the other items we purchase, they’re too much! I don’t want all three. I just need one.” “I don’t want you to get something because you need it. I want to lavish you in gifts. You’re my wife! What’s mine is yours. Ours. I told you this before. This is nothing. Just pieces of fabric. I just want to please my wife. Let me do that for you…” I murmur holding the tops of her arms. She bites her lip with guilt on her face. “Ana,” I say tipping her chin up. “I’ll buy you many more things. In fact, you and I will go and get some baby clothes, today, granted that we finish shopping for Teddy’s mommy,” I say raising my eyebrows. “Baby clothes?” she asks brightening. “Right now? Can we buy some now?” “Of course! But,” I say running my fingers on the clothes we have on the rack for her to try. “I have one condition.” She follows the trail of my fingers and eyes. Then she rolls her eyes, and lets out a frustrated breath. “Okay, fine! But if I do that today, tomorrow… I only get to take one security detail.”

“Deal breaker. You take both of them, and I drop you off. We agreed on this one. You don’t want to go back on an already hammered out deal, Ana. Remember, I’ve more experience in negotiating than you.” “You’re right. But…” “No, buts, Ana. I thought you wanted to show who the master of Christian Grey’s heart is tonight.” “I do,” she says determined. Then she turns to the personal shopper who is standing at a respectable distance. “Yes, ma’am?” “We’re taking them all,” Ana replies. “Send them to our apartment Miss Palmer. Taylor! Give the instructions!” Taylor nods. “Which direction is to the children’s apparel?” Ana asks excitedly. “Mr. and Mrs. Grey, if you wish to shop at our children’ apparel department, I will immediately assign a shopper for you in that department. That way, when you are done with your shopping, we can send all items together.” “That will be great. Thank you,” I nod and take my wife’s hand. Sawyer and Miss Tiber follow us inconspicuously, but vigilantly. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

“I didn’t know babies could have these many styles,” I remark. “Yes, but I thinks girls have a lot more options,” Ana replies. “Oh, Christian! I’m so excited! Thank you. Our baby’s first clothes! Grace, Mia and Kate want to throw us a baby shower but I like the experience of buying our baby’s first clothes… with you… with his daddy,” she says smiling.

“I’ve never seen you this blissful other than when you’re beneath me,” I whisper into her ear. I can never get enough pleasure making my wife blush so profusely. Her eyes grow so wide. “Christian!” she chides me looking around like a teenager who is caught doing something she’s not supposed to be doing but secretly happy about it. She squeezes my hand to fulfill the same pleasure at an appropriate time. “In fact, I’d show you how happy it would make you now, but I have a lot planned for us in New York City. And as much as I want to put that face on you again,” I whisper lasciviously, “I have a surprise planned for you, baby.” “What kind of surprise?” “Let’s finish our shopping, and you’ll find out. Besides, if I were to tell you, it wouldn’t be a surprise,” I grin. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

“Why are we going to the airport? Christian, we can’t go back, I have my conference tomorrow; we can’t go home today!” she protests after seeing the upcoming airport exit sign. “Baby, relax. We aren’t going home. I want you to see the city bird’s eye-view. We have so much to do, and I want to spread the city under your feet. We’re going to the helipad,” I say. “The whole city?” she asks excited. “Is there any other way? Besides, it’s cold outside and we won’t get to remain outside for very long if we were to do sightseeing. This way, I want my wife’s first trip to New York to be unforgettable,” I murmur. “It already is! The whole city?” she asks again. I laugh a hearty laugh this time. “Yes, the whole city.” “Are you flying us?”

“No, baby. I’d rather see your reaction and enjoy this beautiful city with you. I wouldn’t exchange this for anything,” I murmur then I lift her hand to gently kiss it. “Are you having fun so far?” I ask finally searching her face. “Yes. I love being with you Christian. I love these private moments. I pretend it’s just you and me,” she whispers, indicating the security with her eyes, making me smile. “If they’re this close to us, they have my utmost confidence. They have iron clad NDAs and they’re our most loyal employees. Pretend they’re not even here. I do. As far as I’m concerned, we’re alone,” I murmur. This is our way of life. We have to choose what we can live with for our safety, our family’s well-being. When the SUV stops at the parking lot, Taylor opens my door and Melissa opens Ana’s door. I quickly go to my wife’s side, and hold her elbow. She wraps her scarf a little tighter. “We’ll be in the warmth soon enough, baby. I’ll bring you here beginning of the summer when it’s much more pleasant. But winter in New York, especially when she’s dressed in whites is a different beauty to behold. I want you to experience it.” “Thank you, Christian! I’m so excited. What parts of the city will we be seeing?” she asks. “Patience, baby,” I smile. “I want something to be a surprise for you,” I reply. “Mr. Grey, the helicopter is ready whenever you are,” Taylor says after he holds his hand to his ear piece to hear the incoming instructions. “That’s a huge helicopter, Christian!” Ana exclaims. “It is that,” I gesture towards the steps. The pilot, co-pilot and crew are waiting.

“Mr. and Mrs. Grey, welcome aboard. I hope you enjoy your tour. I’m your pilot, Greg Davidson. This is my copilot Randy Finnegan. It’s a pleasure to serve you,” he says extending his hand. I shake it and the flight attendant shows us the way to our seats. “What kind of helicopter is this?” Ana asks. “You didn’t recognize the kind?” I ask. “No. Should I be? I’m not very proficient in aircrafts, yet. Wait…” she says holding up the line. She scratches her head. “It’s Sikorsky. Sikorsky something, isn’t it?” she asks hopeful. “Yes, good girl!” I respond, pleased. She remembered. “It’s a Sikorsky S-92. We also have a private tour guide who will tell you all about New York,” I say. When I take the seat across from Anastasia, she protests. “Next to me, please,” she pleads. I smirk. “My pleasure,” I reply. After the take-off, the tour guide introduces himself. He looks like he’s in his 30s whose picture should be pasted on an underwear billboard. “Welcome aboard, I’m told that this is your first time in our beautiful city,” he says addressing Anastasia after we take off. “Therefore, it is my honor to introduce you the highlights of the Big Apple. We’re going to show you the amazing views of the Lady Liberty, Ellis Island, and over there,” he says indicating with his right hand, “is the west side of Manhattan.” Then he moves on telling the brief history of the statue and the Ellis Island. “Twelve million immigrants have passed through this Island of Hope, Island of Tears.” “Have you lived here all your life? Harrison?” Ana asks looking at his name tag which boldly reads Harrison McAllister.

“Yes, ma’am. Many generations ago, my ancestors passed through this tourist spot which obviously was a port of landing for many poor immigrants. We have been here since 1892, the first year this place was in service. My roots are here, in this city,” he says smiling. “So, you’re Irish?” “Irish and a little Puerto Rican on my mother’s side, ma’am,” he replies. “That must be some Thanksgiving,” Ana responds, and then she closes her mouth with her hand as if she’s spoken out of turn. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. McAllister.” “You’re quite right ma’am. Fighting and drinking run in both families. Though, it’s in the form of boxing and martial arts now. And drinking is now a form of art, a social necessity,” he adds with a glint in his eye giving a brilliant smile to my wife, captured by her direct charm. “As charming as it is to be acquainted with your family heritage,” I say through my gritted teeth, “I think my wife would benefit more from the information you’ve acquired about the fair city you live in rather than hearing about your ancestors who have been dwelling in it since 1892.” The look I give him is piercing, forbidding. Ana holds my hand and squeezes it tighter putting it on her pregnant belly to remind me that she belongs to me. I turn my head and slightly close my eyes. Then turn back to our guide, finally calmed down and point out the window, “Is that George Washington Bridge?” I ask. I can feel Ana’s clasping hand relax in mine, and surreptitiously, she releases a breath she’s been holding. He clears his throat. “Yes, sir, it is.” Then he talks about the bridge in the next three minutes. “What is huge rectangle block covered in snow?” Ana asks. “Is it the Central Park? It’s magnificent!” she exclaims. “Yes, Miss. It’s the Central Park. And the moving dots you see are people who are ice-skating,” he says and all three of our security detail turn to look at our guide then to me.

“Mrs.” I say. My voice is low, commanding and threatening. “I beg your pardon?” our guide asks. Is he fucking goading me? I stare at him incredulously. Surely, he can’t be this stupid. As if on cue five pairs of eyes turn to me. “It’s Mrs. Grey, my wife. She’s not a Miss,” I say, my eyes flashing. Ana’s lips thin into a tight line. “My apologies, Mr. Grey. Of course. It’s just a refined expression for young ladies as it is hard to tell whether they’re Miss or Mrs.” he says nodding. “Not that it is hard to say she’s a Mrs. I mean she’s young and attractive, but she’s clearly with you and your Missus,” he says burying himself deeper in the shithole. “Anyway, about New York,” he says flushing then starts talking about the perfect skyline of the city, the Times Square, Madison Square Garden, the Chrysler Building. He makes every attempt to not to come eye to eye with me again. During the mid-tour, we have our lunch while watching the ice-skaters below. When the tour is over and we land back on the helipad, I think the tour guide what’s-his-name breathes out a sigh of relief. He escorts us to the exit and when he shakes our hands he says, “It was a great pleasure to serve you Mrs. And Mr. Grey.” When we are firmly on the ground, Anastasia rolls her eyes at me and shakes her head, but she says nothing. She wraps her coat around tighter and as if she’s trying to warm herself, she crosses her arms and walks towards the SUV wordlessly. I catch up with her and brace myself for the argument to ensue. Taylor, Sawyer and Melissa give us a vigilant but wide berth to not to get their share from whatever wrath Ana might deliver. She looks thoughtful. She stops in mid stride and turns towards me. The expression on her face is unreadable. I don my impassive face and look at her. “Uhm, Christian,” she says as a preamble to something she wants to express her opinion. What comes out next and the intonation is not what I expected. “Yes?”

“Your son is hungry. Can we eat something?” I blink. That’s not what I expected her to say. When she doesn’t get a response from me right away, and seeing my dumbstruck expression she quickly adds. “I’m sorry. I guess I can wait a little bit if you’re not hungry. I know we just ate, but suddenly I have this maddening craving for rosemary potato and chicken pesto pizza. If they don’t have rosemary potato, I can live with sundried tomato, arugula and portabella mushroom pizza on thin crust. Cranberry juice and baby dill pickles and maybe cannoli for desert. Can we find these here?” “Ohm...” I mutter still stupefied, “sure, of course. I’m sure there’s a good Italian restaurant nearby. So, you’re not mad?” I ask. “About what?” she asks. I shake my head. “When I saw the Central Park from above, I thought it kind of looked like a giant tray of tiramisu. Got me hungry…” she says shrugging. “And,” she says lowering her voice, “I need to go pee. The guide kept talking after you admonished him and I was too embarrassed to ask if they had an on board bathroom. So, it’s kind of your fault that I’m about to pee!” she whispers harshly pressing her legs. “I was squeezing your hand when you were too busy scolding our guide to let you know, but anyway, can you find me a bathroom please? Like, right now!” she asks impatiently. I grin as wide as possible and when I give out a sigh of relief, it’s hard to hide it from anyone no matter how hard I would try as my breath comes out like a steaming pot in the cold New York weather. Anastasia utilizes the heliport’s restroom when all three of us wait for her to come out. When she walks out, she asks, “Did you locate a restaurant yet? I’m starving!” “I’m relishing these moments, Ana. It used to be so hard to get you eat. I have to thank our son,” I say emphasizing, “for making you hungry.” Then I lean in and whisper into her ear. “I should have knocked you up much sooner if for no reason other than getting you to eat.” “Christian!” she chides me again. “Even though I can only think of food right now, don’t think that I haven’t noticed or forgotten your jealous streak back there,” she murmurs, indicating the direction of the helicopter.

“I don’t want you to forget, baby. Ever. I don’t want anyone to forget that you belong to me and only me. That fucker and anyone who has eyes for my wife would do well to remember that.” “Christian! I’m pregnant. With your child. Men aren’t going to make a pass at me while there are single and non-pregnant women are available. I think our guide Harrison was just being polite. And besides, I’m already yours and only yours, Mr. Grey. You’d do well to remember that, too!” “Why do you think we’re having this discussion?” I ask. “Come, I need to feed my wife and baby,” I say as I tug her towards the parked SUVs.

CHAPTER XXIV SHOW AND TELL

“Mr. Grey, would you be kind enough to share your opinion if this dress makes my boobs look big?”

“Mr. Grey?” Taylor asks after I’m distracted by Ana’s text. “What were you asking Taylor?” “I was asking about the security arrangements of tomorrow. I managed to get a roster of the participants of the convention Mrs. Grey and her assistant are attending. There are quite a few unknown names, and the security is poor at best for events like these. Someone also leaked the information that you and Mrs. Grey are in New York City and attending tonight’s business gala. "How would you know that?" I ask. "It's in the gossip blogs." "I didn't know you read the gossip blogs." "I don't," he says chagrined. "I have set Google alerts with your and Mrs. Grey's names. If anything pops with either one of your names on Google, the information gets sent to me. That's how I know. I require all the security details to know what's being published so we're at least up to par and take necessary precautions for a potential danger." "So, what's in the news?" I ask. "There’s also a mention that,” he says clearing his throat, "it's best if I just read it," he adds and starts reading the article from a gossip blog on his iPad, “the rising west-coast fashion icon, Mrs. Anastasia Grey has been spotted at Bergdorf Goodman today with her hottie husband Christian Grey,” he reads with some embarrassment, “purchasing some elegant designer maternity dresses and some cutesy baby clothes. Although she has purchased some unisex colors, some observers noticed that she has also chosen some pale blue onesies. Dare we say a miniature Christian Grey is on the way? Our informers are on the lookout. Mr. and Mrs. Grey will be gracing a business gala this evening and we have the word that Mrs. Grey is going to be attending a writer’s symposium tomorrow if you want to get a glimpse of this couple in the flesh.” Taylor then pauses with some concern. “I have arranged additional security for Mrs. Grey tomorrow. They will

be well concealed as to not to disturb Mrs. Grey. I have to brief Hannah as well to have some extra caution.” “Fine! But I want to make a change to that plan. Make sure that neither Mrs. Grey nor her assistant Hannah knows about it. I don’t know if Hannah would be fidgety and not give it away. You can however reiterate her position that no one vetted can approach my wife.” “Will do, sir, but,” he says. I rise and look at Taylor in the eye. “But what, Taylor?” I ask. “This is a writer’s symposium and she’s an editor from a publisher. It would be impossible for Hannah to keep away the other attendees – writers and publishers alike can't be kept away from her.” “You said that you have a list of the attendees. Those who are not supposed to be attending will not be allowed to approach her and even those who are supposed to be attending will have to be kept under close scrutiny, Taylor! Is this not clear to you?” “Perfectly clear, sir,” he replies, his face takes the serene look before the flitting anxiety disappears. I turn and walk to our bedroom. Anastasia is standing in front of the full length mirror, standing sideways admiring her pregnant belly. She is beyond breathtaking. Her beautiful skin is flawless. Her dress reveals her back like a goddess.

“Ah, Ana,” I say swallowing. I indicate with my finger to turn. When she faces me, I take a deep breath.

“Yes, the dress does make your breasts look as they are… ample. Very…” I say as I cup my hands over her swells. “These will be under every man’s gaze as well as some women tonight. I can’t be patient if others get to see what only belongs to me.” “Don’t you want me to wear it?” she asks disappointed. “Yes, maybe we can cover it up a little. I just have to be extra vigilant against the wolves that would be circling around my wife.” “I could say the same for those who are circling around my husband. I have to look my best Christian.” My lips thin into a grim line.

“Okay, we’ll do that but, perhaps you can wear one of the coats that match with this dress. This one…” I say putting it on her back. I run my hands over her arms. “Let’s go. I’ll introduce you to the people who run the world.” “Are there politicians?”

“Businesses run the world. Money is the blood. It’s the power that makes the people to want to go to work, buy, sell, trade. It gives power. Politicians also make the rounds of big money when it’s time for election.” “Why? It’s the people, their constituents that vote for them, not the businessmen.” “True, but good intentions don’t win elections, baby. Elections require a lot of money. And wouldn’t it be easier for them to go to one or a few doors than to millions of people for money that may or may not have it to contribute?” “Do you have politicians knocking on your door?” “Our door. Yes, they always do. Their spouses will want to meet you.” “Why? I’m not interested in politics. I just want to accompany my husband.” “Baby, always remember that there are two persons in me: Christian Grey you married, the man who is madly, insatiably in love with you; this private mortal,” I say putting my hand on my heart. “Then there’s the inaccessible ruthless mogul who owns a good chunk of the business world where people proverbially kneel before me. I’m unforgiving of my enemies, competitive and utterly at ease in business as I am in bed,” I smile lasciviously. We Found Love - Rihanna

“I have met both of you, or all fifty shades of you I should say.” “We should go, baby,” I say as I take her hand in mine. “Both the man in love with you and the business mogul can’t wait to show you off to the world.” “Christian, wait,” Ana says holding me back. “Are you okay?” “Yes, I want to look at my handsome husband in his tuxedo,” she says and gazes me up and down and then walks around me.

“I need to keep an eye on you too,” she says. We walk out to the living room where the security staff is waiting dressed appropriately for an upscale party. “Mr. Grey,” Taylor clears his throat. He has the ‘can I have a moment with you, sir?’ look pasted all over his face. I nod my head for him to come to a private corner with me. He walks with me away from the earshot. “Miss Tiber checked guest list and their companions. Miss Blackburn is accompanying her father again.” “What’s that to me?” I say frowning. “She was rather aggressive last time and you have a meeting for thirty minutes where Mrs. Grey will be alone.” “She won’t be alone. I have Melissa and Sawyer.” “But sir, Mrs. Grey has a way of circumventing the security. But that’s not the biggest matter,” he says lowering his voice. “What?” I hiss. “Miss Richards is attending the event with New York businessman Lloyd Ashter.”

“Miss Richards, who exactly?” I ask as anger is rising within me. There is only one Miss Richards I have known. “Doctor Lauren Richards. She now works at New York Presbyterian as an emergency medicine doctor.” Fuck! She is indeed my ex-sub! I paid for her medical school until she graduated and her financial dependency on me ceased when she found a new Dom. But why didn’t I know her attendance to the event beforehand? Is this a coincidence or did she deliberately put herself on my way? “Just thought you’d want to know.” “Try to keep both of them away from Ana,” I hiss. “I’ll inform the team, sir.” "Is everything alright?" Ana asks when I take her hand. "It is now, baby." ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

When we reach the hotel, there are reporters, cameras, paparazzi and buzzing voices. Occasionally our names being called can be heard. Camera flashes are everywhere. I hold my wife’s hand tightly to reassure her. She is dazzling. Camera loves her, but Ana doesn’t love the camera. I feel her snuggle close to

me. Once we make into the building, the ushers collect Anastasia’s coat and gives her a coat check ticket then lead us to the large ballroom. We get quite a few greetings from the business acquaintances who desire to meet the enigmatic Mrs. Grey who captured Christian Grey’s heart. She’s turning heads at every step. I try to avoid the known womanizers, but it’s not always possible. “Oh wait… wait… wait!” says an outrageously dressed woman. Her lips plumped up three times their sizes; she would be able to float in water even if she didn’t know how to swim. She stands before my wife completely awed, placing her hand over her equally enhanced breasts with two straps of fabric over the plasticized version of its previous self.

I give Taylor the ‘Who the hell is this?’ look. “TV reality star turned into a fashion designer,” whispers Taylor into my ear. “You must be Mrs. Grey. Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am your biggest fan!” she says fanning herself. “Hello Mr. Grey,” she says finally sparing a deep bow to me trying to flash her water balloons, then turns back to Ana. “My dear Mrs. Grey, I’m Andrea Benedetto,” she curtsying of all things before my wife. I feel Anastasia is about to roll her eyes. “I’m a designer. Perhaps you know my work? Though your ensemble is consisted of some very talented colleagues of mine.” “I’ve never heard of your name as a designer,” Anastasia says.

“I’ve been on TV and magazines for years. Women have been idolizing my style around the world, Mrs. Grey. I am a top fashion designer. You probably haven’t heard of me because you are too new to the high fashion world. After all, most everyone here is old money,” she adds condescendingly. “Miss Benedetto,” Anastasia says taking a very confident step forward, standing only inches away from her and well into the other woman’s personal space. Ana gazes up at the other woman who is at least five inches taller than my wife. But the look she gives to the designer bimbo makes the other woman wither before her and cause her to take a cautionary step back. “I recognize you from the reruns of a trashy B-rated reality show where the members of your crew just slept around. I didn’t know that accomplishment merited the top designer status. I may not have utilized the fruits of the fashion world before, but I am an exceptionally fast learner and I know rubbish when I see it. My husband wants me to use nothing but the best. And you Miss Benedetto… don’t make the par.” This is one of my proudest moments of my wife. Then Anastasia turns her back and smiles at me. “I’m quite thirsty, Christian,” she says and I walk her away from the offending woman. “Find out who she came with!” I order Taylor when we reach the bar. The main requirement to be invited to one of these events is to make at least a billion dollars a year. That trash isn’t in the list. She’s invited as a guest of someone and I need to find out who brought her here. Taylor nods at Melissa and she immediately stands next to him. After a brief exchange of words, she looks at Sawyer and departs. Other than the first incident with the designer, most of the attendees are eager to meet and be introduced to Anastasia. She’s complimented numerous times for how gorgeous she looks. The New York businessmen are more intrigued by her and want to get to know her much better. She's already invited to meet quite a few of them which Anastasia politely declined until our next visit.

“Taylor, I have meeting shortly. Instruct Miss Tiber and Sawyer of the rules once again. If anything upsets Ana, I need to be informed immediately.” “Yes, sir.” Anastasia earlier demonstrated that she can hold her own. But, I don’t want her to be left in the sharks’ tank. These men and women can have anyone for breakfast and spit them out for lunch. Anastasia is my wife. Even though she can go toe to toe with me, I don't want this to be an unpleasant experience for her first time in New York. “I want my wife to have a good time. Make sure it happens,” I murmur. “And the people I’ve indicated before we left are not to come near her. Is that clear?” “Very clear, sir.” Surprisingly, when I turn around I find Anastasia and another pregnant woman chatting near the bar while sipping sparkling water. “I’m having a little girl. What are you having?” the other woman asks. “We’re not letting it known yet.” Ana replies. “Don’t you want to find out?” the woman asks. “Makes the shopping a lot easier. But, I can tell that you're a first time mom-to-be. I can understand that. I was like that with my first one. This is our third.” “Yes, I still can't get over the excitement of our first child,” Ana replies. “You have two other children then?” she asks incredulity lacing her voice. “Two boys. I wanted to have a little girl. The boys are now four and six,” the woman responds. “Who’s your husband?” Anastasia asks curiously. “I’m married to Senator Warren Solomon,” she replies. “I’ve not heard of him. What state is he representing?” Ana asks.

“He’s the junior senator from…” the voices drown with the orchestra start playing. So, the politicians are already making the rounds. I walk up to the ladies. “I’m sorry. I hope I’m not interrupting your conversation. May I borrow my wife for a minute?” I say. Ana beams. “Christian, this is Mary Alice Solomon. Mrs. Solomon, this is my husband Christian Grey,” she introduces me to her new friend. She seems to be taken up with the older woman. “Mr. Grey, what a pleasure to meet you,” the other lady gushes. “I apologize if I can’t get up. I’m much farther along than Mrs. Grey,” she adds extending her hand. She looks like she’s ready to give birth any day. “Please, remain seated Mrs. Solomon,” I shake her hand. “I’ll be right back,” Anastasia says to the other lady with a smile. I take Ana several steps away from the prying ears. “Baby, my meeting will start in a little bit, and I will be only occupied for about thirty minutes. If you need anything at all, or displeased about anything, let Melissa know, and I will be out immediately.” “Yes, Christian,” she says with a smile. “I quite like Mrs. Solomon. She’s from the West Coast. Compared to the rest of the group, she’s as warm as the sun,” Ana qualifies. “Okay. Enjoy your time with Mrs. Solomon then. Text me, call me or let Melissa know if you’re not having any fun here.” “Christian! Honestly, I can handle myself. Go, make some business deals, and then come back to me,” she murmurs. “Yes, Mrs. Grey. Are you ordering me?” “The part about coming back to me…yes,” she says with a smirk.

“We’ll talk about that smirk tonight, in our bed, or maybe by the fireplace or at a place of my choosing.” “Well then, Mr. Grey. If my ordering merits your passion, I should do more of it,” she remarks. I hold her hand and kiss it with a passion before leaving for my meeting. Taylor follows me. The meeting has the New York’s old money as well as the new and much stronger money from self-made west coast software billionaires who are in a much stronger position financially because they command the larger population of the world with their products. During the meeting, I give surreptitious looks to Taylor who shakes his head to let me know that all is well. My cell phone is silent. No calls or texts from Ana. Although the meeting is only for 30 minutes, I am anxious as if some impending danger is waiting outside. Twenty minutes into the meeting, Taylor’s hand goes up to his ear as if to hear the radio better. His eyes go wide for a brief second but I see it. I slightly shake my head in a gesture to ask what’s going on. Taylor smoothly walks to me and leans in. “Mrs. Solomon’s water broke apparently and Mrs. Grey is with her in one of the rooms.” “By herself?” I ask. “No. Melissa is with her, Sawyer is waiting at the door. But…” he stops. “But what?” I hiss. “The only doctor in the house was Miss Lauren Richards.” “Shit!” I stand up abruptly. “Excuse me gentlemen,” I say. “Hopefully we can continue our meeting tomorrow at lunch. Apologize for cutting this short,” I say and walk out. “Is everything alright, Grey?”

“Yes,” I say and walk out with Taylor. “What room? Why wouldn’t she call me?” “Mrs. Grey was the only person with her. When Mrs. Solomon’s water broke, she let Melissa know. They helped her to get to a room and Sawyer found her husband. Apparently Miss Richards was nearby and noticed Mrs. Solomon's water breaking.” “How convenient,” I hiss. We find Sawyer after Taylor calls him. He’s at the door along with two other men. “Protective Services for the Senator,” Taylor whispers. "No one's allowed in." “Get Mrs. Grey out of there,” I murmur. “Didn’t they call an ambulance?” “I’m sure someone already has, but if the birth started, it would be much safer for Mrs. Solomon to be here until the baby is delivered as opposed to be on the road and snow and ice. Unless they see a potential danger.” Taylor calls Melissa and exchanges words. “Mrs. Grey is holding Mrs. Solomon’s hand and apparently coaching her in breathing. She’s not coming.” “Where is Senator Solomon? Why isn’t he doing the coaching?” I seethe. “I don’t know, sir.” He calls Melissa again. After his brief conversation he turns to me. “Apparently, the sight of blood makes the Senator sick. So, he’s there but nervously wearing a track on the carpet instead of supporting his wife.” A woman’s pained scream reaches to our ears. Two distinct female voices, one sounds like a soothing murmur and the other instructing her to push. Another scream pierces my ears.

“Coming through! Make way! Make way!” shouts come from behind. The EMTs are coming with an ambulance stretcher and medical equipment in a fast pace. The door is opened by the Senator’s men to allow the medics in. I get a glimpse of my wife holding Mrs. Solomon’s hand and rubbing her hair as she’s whispering something soothing to her. Lauren Richards is at the other end of the woman. She too sees me. A wry smile briefly flutters through her lips as her eyes flick to Anastasia, and then she focuses on her task raining orders to the medics. “The birth is already in progress. Baby’s positioned head down, and it’s unsafe to move the patient. We’ll have to deliver here!” she shouts professionally as the guards close the door. “How long?” I ask Taylor. “I’ve no idea sir!” Two hours of pacing in front of the closed doors only yield to screams. Another thirty minutes leads to one big scream as if Mrs. Solomon is pushing the life out of her body, then first nothing, absolute silence and finally broken by the screams of a newborn. “Good girl! You did it!” I hear Ana shout. Another forty minutes later Mrs. Solomon wheeled out in the company of the medics with her baby bundled up. Until the Senator comes out, the guards remain at the door. I swing the door open where I find Anastasia talking to the Doctor. “Ana,” I call out to her. “I’ll be right out Christian.” “Now,” I say trying not to order her, but failing. “I will be right out Mr. Grey. I’m speaking with Mrs. Solomon’s doctor,” she says. Lauren’s eyes dart back and forth between us. My lips thin into a grim line. Melissa looks alarmed and this is my cue to take Ana out of the room.

“Perhaps we should allow the good doctor to clean up. She must be exhausted after the delivery.” “I don’t think so, Christian. She just told me that she has a lot of stamina.” I look at Lauren narrowing my eyes. Then look at Anastasia. She’s not stupid. She has the knowing look on her face. “The good doctor and I have more in common it appears,” Anastasia says emphasizing on the good. “She herself was just telling me that.” “You have nothing in common with her.” I say. Monster - Rihanna

“I’m not too sure about that. She seems to know you.” Ana adds making it abundantly clear that knowing me doesn’t mean knowing my name. “The only person who knows me here in all the ways that matter is you, Ana.” The look I give Lauren is glacial, murderous even. When will my past stop colliding with my future? “All the same. I’d like you to give me a few minutes, Christian. Please,” she says with a gaze steely gaze. “Two minutes.” “Five,” Ana says as her word is nonnegotiable. I turn on my heels and close the door behind me. I hear the lock turning behind me. Fuck! I slam my hand over the closed door. “Get Melissa open the fucking door!” I hiss. “Yes, sir!” Taylor responds. Once he’s done talking to her, he looks at me. “This is a private service room, sir. It has a separate key on the inside. Mrs. Grey took the key and it’s in her hand, sir.”

“Have Melissa dial my phone! I want to hear what’s being said!” He nods. 10 seconds later my Blackberry buzzes. “You got something to say doctor, spit it out!” Ana commands. “Just wondered the kind of black magic you weaved to secure Mr. Grey’s attention when so many before you couldn’t. I wondered what made you irreplaceable and the rest of us just disposable. But I now see the reason and wonder how long you’ll last.” The voice is contemptuous. “The fact that you don’t get it is reason enough why none of you was for my husband. I owe no one an explanation, certainly someone from my husband’s discard pile. But I’ll give you one all the same.” “That should be interesting. I have everything a man should desire. Beauty, talent, breeding, intelligence, and I actually have a career that is not gifted without the help of another man,” she mocks Ana referring to her position as an editor. “That’s from a woman who made through medical school with the money my husband had provided. I believe you owe your career to my husband and whoever else currently holding the leash of your collar. I, however put myself through school, secured my own job and fell in love.” “In love?” Lauren laughs. “Every one of us loved him! We just weren’t stupid enough to get knocked up.” “My husband knocked me up after he married me, not before,” Ana says, but she quiets as if she just had an epiphany. “I know what you’re trying to do Doctor. I know the meaning of your audacity. You’re angry at me for being madly in love with Christian Grey and at him for reciprocating my love. But that can’t be just your doing. There’s more to this…” “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Lauren hisses. I know denial when I see one, and this sounds like a lie. “You want to get me angry so that I can react in anger. After all, this is a big event with the top dogs of the world. But you can’t do this on your own. You’re

not worth it. I know that for a big fire, all you need is a small flicker. You are that flicker. Whoever has put you up to this, go back under his dick and his whip and tell him that he can shove it! That man out there,” she says raising her voice and I can hear her heel clicking confidently “is MY husband. We only take the trash out. By the looks of it, you’ve already stunk! Melissa! I’m through smelling this shit! Open the door and let her own trash collector keep her!” she order. “With pleasure ma’am!” When the key moves and the door opens, I turn to Taylor. “I want you to find out who put her up to this!” “Yes, sir.” “Ana?” I hold her arm. She’s stiff but gives me a forced smile. “I’m ready to go home now, Christian.” I turn around and the look I give to Lauren is that she will pay for this. She lowers her gaze down, pretending to keep herself busy by cleaning her arms with a towel. We excuse ourselves from the cocktail party since everyone has heard of Mrs. Solomon giving birth and Anastasia helping out. She’s revered a little more among the socialite. No doubt we’ll read about it tomorrow. Ana is silent all the way to the SUV. “Ana, talk to me…” I plead. She remains quiet. The ride to our apartment is painful. She keeps staring out the darkened window. “Ana, please! I had no idea she would be here.” She lets me hold her hand, but she continues to stare out the window. When we get to our apartment, the security details quickly scatter to Taylor’s office after I dismiss them like rats out of a sinking ship.

“Ana, talk to me…” I beg. “Christian, you have to give me a heads up before I meet these bimbos out there!” she says with barely contained anger. “I didn’t know that someone you fucked before would show up to one of the most exclusive cocktail parties.” “She would not be able to approach you had Mrs. Solomon not go in labor and you followed to help her!” “So you knew this woman was there?” Her voice was accusatory. “I was barely informed before we went there. She was not allowed to come near you. I want to spare you from my past, baby. You know I have a past. I’ve not hidden that from you. And you cannot dismiss me either, especially in situations like these!” “Christian! I need to have my own voice. You cannot speak up for me at all times especially when it concerns both of us. I am not a weakling.” “No, you certainly aren’t.” “I want to let them know that you are mine as much as I am yours,” she says and then closes her eyes and takes a deep shaky breath. She then opens her impossibly blue eyes wide. “That woman is someone’s tool. I can feel it in my bones. Because I saw the fear in her eyes. If she’s a doctor, she wouldn’t try to make a scene right after she helped a senator’s wife to give birth or made herself known in that manner.” “Don’t worry yourself with these thoughts. I’m sure she read us being in New York, you being pregnant, and jealous of many women who couldn’t conquer me. I don’t think she was thinking right. It must have been the anxiety of the birth and having you in that close proximity. You have that effect on people, you know. Only you can push all the buttons of a person.” “Are you complaining for protecting what’s mine, Mr. Grey?” she asks crossing her arms.

“No, baby. I’m salivating. I love it when you declare your love and desire for me. Your brand of ownership. It’s hot! But from now on, let me handle these.” “I can’t make that promise. After all, you’re my man.” “Show me how much I’m yours,” I whisper lasciviously. “I’m still mad at you!” “I know. But mad sex can be overwhelmingly passionate. Show me how mad you are at me.” “Very mad!” “How mad?” I whisper, my lips are only a breath away from hers. “Exceedingly mad…” “Show me,” I dare her. She places her palms on my chest and pushes me until I can walk no longer. I’m pinned between my angry pregnant wife and the wall. “Insanely, passionately, overwhelmingly mad and madly in love,” she says before she takes my lips.

CHAPTER XXV She pierced my soul in half torment and half hope

It is not only light that falls over the world spreading inside your body Yet suffocate itself So much is clarity

Taking its leave of you

As if you were on fire within The moon lives in the lining of your skin

Pablo Neruda

Welcome to the wonderful world of lover’s jealousy; it’s a fairly new, but most torturous territory for me. I have known possessiveness. That’s not the same as proprietary feeling, this is something else. You don’t just get a monstrous headache; you get this impulsive feeling to commit a crime that would very much land you in the state penitentiary. Our kiss leaves us breathless, but we don’t break the connection. “Ana, you drive me insane!” I whisper as I put my forehead on hers. “I drive you insane?” she asks with an incredulous look on her face. “Your exsub ambushed me at a party.” “I’ll deal with that later, but, baby you know that I have a past. A past that was diverting at the time, a release valve to deal with my life… I have told you: you’re my present, you are my future. You and this little one…” I murmur caressing her belly. “I was so frigging jealous Christian, it’s not even funny! Thinking that you’ve… that you've touched that woman like you touch me, got to know her body, and looked at her like you look at me with possessiveness in your face. I just want to…” she says and shakes her head. I run my hands on her bare arms. “I don’t want them to think I’m the final member in the sub club, Christian!” “You’re not! You, Anastasia Rose Grey, are my love, the only love of my life. No before, no after. Just you, baby…” I kiss the tip of her nose. “Just. You.” I tip her chin up to make her look at me. “There’s no other for me. I’ve not felt what I feel for you towards anyone. Not a single soul…” She blinks as my words penetrate. “I should be rational… I should be compassionate towards them.” “Compassionate?” her words take me aback. “Yes, compassionate. Clearly, those women wanted you, and loved you in their own way. But, what they had is over with and I felt that she put herself on our way deliberately, and I had to protect what’s mine…” she says looking up at me, “…for what is ours,” she finishes her words in whispers. “You’re ours.” Her hand automatically covers her belly protectively. “Yes! I belong to my wife and our baby,” my voice comes out in a fervent tone. “But, don’t say they loved me. How could any of them love what they don’t understand, what they don’t know? They desired this face, lusted after this body, and loved what my power could provide for them. Don’t confuse it with the persona they imagined in their heads, and the person only you, my Ana got to see and fell in love despite how fucked up it is,” I say in a soft voice. Too soft. “You paid for her medical school. She was throwing that at my face!”

“Anastasia, her medical school cost me about three hours of work. Surely, I can afford to give someone who subbed me a year, the income I’ve procured within three hours of work. I’m not a total monster; I do give a helping hand on occasion. It is all relative, do you understand? Remember when you told me you were leaving,” I say my voice only a whisper, “I was not only ready to give you all my life’s work but I was ready to give my life to you. That was even after I wrongly assumed that you didn’t really love me. It tormented me, broke my heart, the feeling of being deceived, of not being loved by you, but in the end, I decided that it didn’t matter, because I loved you, I. LOVE. YOU, Anastasia Grey! Only you!” Anastasia finally takes in a shaky breath and looks at me. Grenade - Bruno Mars

“I know. I would have given my life for you, too, Christian. To save your family, to prevent harm coming to you or anyone you love. I was in a way protecting you tonight,” she says stubbornly. I groan, tossing my head back. “Do you remember what I said to you if you were to resort to such heroics? I even have your step-father’s permission in doing so,” I say running the back of my hand over her flushed cheek. “You wouldn’t dare Mr. Grey. After all, my life or our baby’s wasn’t in any danger. I was protecting my own territory from your former lover…” “Sub, not lover!” “Only semantics Christian. When the bitch, excuse me, your former sub,” she adds as if the description leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, then closing her eyes, she takes in a deep breath while supporting her back with her right hand, “…that former sub whom you helped in her education, put herself in our way to hurt you somehow, maybe through me, but she was there to do some damage despite what you did for her, it snapped something inside me. Mrs. Solomon’s unexpected labor and delivery somehow derailed those efforts. If you don’t like me protecting what is mine… Let’s just say that Mr. Grey, I will not be ambushed, you will not be ambushed. You are my husband, mine! Not hers, not Leila’s and definitely not Elena’s! Mine!” As much as Anastasia is mine, I am also her man. My wife claiming her territory is a monumental turn on. But I can’t let her defy me. If someone is put on our way to derail me, or pose a danger to Ana, I should be the one take care of it. I can’t risk her exposed to danger. And, I haven’t forgotten that she shut me out of the room in her effort to top me. I can’t be topped or dominated. As much it

turns me on like hell that she’s jealous of me, Anastasia defying me by locking me out when she’s in the room with a former sub isn’t acceptable. Not after the incidents with Leila.

My mind is torn between this roaring lust, and half mad with the urgent compulsion to spread her beneath me to both punish and sate the fucking arousal that’s been goading me. Anastasia shutting me out of the room will haunt me for a long time taking me back where she accepted Leila into a meeting after she Leila held a gun to her head! My wife still has little to no selfpreservation skills. I want her to be mad, I want her to be outraged, irritated, impassioned, exasperated, but I don’t ever want her to shut me out; it’s not just a door, it’s her emotions closing down to me. It brings out other triggers in me in dark places I don’t want to visit. She’s still angry; her chest is rising and falling rapidly again as if she’s in a near climax. Her hands come up and she places them on my chest. “I know it’s irrational. I know you had a past. I just hate it that I may walk into a place with you and meet someone you fucked! See someone that you looked at the way you look at me. Touched, the way you touch me. How would you feel if you went to a place and a man who fucked me cornered you to goad you?” I don’t even recognize the primitive growl that comes out of me in response to her question.

“You know I couldn’t take it if you had a past! I’m so fucking glad that you are without a doubt 100% mine. Are you still angry?” I ask even though the answer is evident before me. “Yes!” she says. “Good! Take it out on me in bed. We are going to fuck until this anger in you subsides and until we have nothing but each other in our minds.” The overwhelming desire to take control, to show Anastasia that there’s no other woman for me consumes me and becomes my sole focus. But I also want to show her that she can’t top me, putting herself in danger no matter how angry she gets. She needs to consider her own well-being as well as the well-being of our baby. I don’t want to be managed, lead, or dominated even if it’s done unintentionally. “Come with me,” I say extending my hand to Anastasia. “Are you intending to hurt me?” “Why do you ask that?” I retort back. “Because you’re deflecting the question. Do you intend to hurt me Christian?” “I want to be rough with you, yes, but, it is for pleasure. I am your husband, and you’re my wife.” “Do you want to punish me?” she asks directly. “Yes,” I respond, closing my eyes. “I’m your wife, not your sub. I thought you weren’t going to punish me, at all.” “No, you’re not my sub. Those subs that may or may not intend to harm you got in our way. You put yourself, our baby in danger. I told you before, at the hospital, I’d spank you if you’ve put yourself in harm’s way. You promised not to do that!” I accuse. “Those subs are no longer mine,” I hiss jacking my thumb behind me. “None of them. I don’t want them… Not a single one. All I want is you. Just you.”

“But you want to punish me for claiming what is mine,” she says halting in mid stride. “No. I want to punish you for locking me out, shutting me as if I don’t matter.” “How could you possibly think that?” “Baby, we are supposed to be a team in face of prospective danger. Furthermore, I just want to be the center of your world, Ana! Your world. I want your world to begin and end with me, just like mine does. You are everything to me.” “Don’t punish me, then.” I let out a big breath in exasperation. I want to punish her but not hurt her. “Anastasia, I have a lot in stake where you are concerned. You’re my world. With you being in there with a woman about to give birth and Lauren... With her in there I thought another psycho ex-sub…” I shake my head trying to clear the anxiety out of my head. “Just, just don’t do it again.” “You are touchy,” she murmurs. I heave out a frustrated breath. She yanks her hand free of mine, making an attempt to stump away with determined footfalls, reaching the guest bedroom. “You’re not sleeping in the guest bedroom.” “Oh, really Sherlock? Watch me!” she says stepping into the room, ready to slam the door to my face once again. That's one too many for tonight. I put my foot in the door jam, walk in with confident, determined strides and scoop my pregnant wife into my arms, and start carrying her into our bedroom. “Put me down Christian!" she shouts. "No!" "I’ll scream bloody hell!” she threatens. “Oh, baby, go right ahead!” “Put me down!!!” she yells stubbornly again. “Christian! Christian Grey! Put me the fuck down!” she shouts to the top of her lungs. Not a minute later both Taylor and Melissa run into hallway in shorts. Seeing me hauling my wife in my arms, they both blush. “Get me down!” Anastasia shouts again without realizing the company. “Is Mrs. Grey well?” asks Melissa, not knowing what to say. “Yes, I am!” Anastasia hisses while trying to look as dignified as possible. “Mrs. Grey and I are sorting our differences. You can both go back to bed.” “Yes, sir,” says Taylor and practically shoves Melissa out of the hallway. “Should we be… leaving?” we hear Melissa’s confused voice. “Are you their shrink?”

“Right…” is the last word we hear from Melissa as their footsteps retreat quickly. I take Anastasia into our bedroom and kick the door closed. Turn the bedroom light on with one hand, and then with the same hand, I lock the door behind. “Now, Mrs. Grey…” I say putting her down and without getting a chance to finish my sentence she attacks my white shirt in such haste that if she took her time to unbutton it, she would explode. The look on her face comes with a host of naughty intentions. My wife looks uninhibited, rapacious and maddeningly desirous. She’s in a quest to leave me without a stitch on. She finally took my advice to get her anger out in bed. My eyes darken with increased passion, but I allow her to rip my shirt off me and tossing it on the floor. She then kneels before me trying to unbuckle my belt. I feel her drenched heat radiating. Her heavy lidded eyes looking up at me bring me to full erection.

“Wait.” I hiss with barely controlling myself. “No!” she says trying to fight with my belt. I lower myself and pick her up off the floor, then with an practiced flick of my hand, I unbuckle my belt, unzip my fly and quickly divest myself off my pants, boxer as well as my shoes. “Now. You, Mrs. Grey. Naked.” I murmur my order as clearly as I shouted it. Then I grasp the hem of her dress and take it off her. “You, Mrs. Grey, are mine. Wherever I want. Whenever I want. You know the rules.”

“I have the same rights, Mr. Grey!” she says with her blue eyes heated. Her dress makes the floor, and the bra and panties disappear. My socks, and watch drops somewhere on the floor without a second thought. Anastasia pushes me onto our bed, rapidly following me onto the bed having forgotten her protruding belly. “Fuck!” escapes my lips as I tumble onto the bed and quickly catch her when she’s falling onto me. I turn her over lightning speed before her belly hits my hard chest. I grasp both of Anastasia’s hands and secure them above her head.

“Oh!” she shouts. A quick glance at her face make me realize that’s it’s not pain but intense desire. “You forget who rules here, baby,” I hiss. She tries to buck me off her. “Go ahead, raise the stakes. I will fucking tie you up,” I say excited with the prospect. She writhes beneath me. While holding her hands, I roll and open a drawer to extract t-shirt, rip it into two pieces. Using each piece, I tie each wrist to each knee.

“Even though I want to fuck the hell out of into next week, all you have to say is stop, and I will stop,” I hiss through my teeth. “Don’t! Stop!” she says between heavy breathing. “Ride me hard! Make me…make us forget tonight.” There’s a plea in her voice. That’s when I pop a nipple into my mouth, sucking it long and hard. I separate her already open legs by setting my hips between her thighs. Though I try to be careful, I find myself pouncing on her. But I don’t give her what she wants immediately. My heavy throbbing erection is pulsating like the lightning in a thunderstorm, reflecting the inner turmoil I’m experiencing. Her pregnant belly can’t hide the heavy swells of her breasts, with her perked nipples begging for attention. “Please, Christian! I want you! I need you…” she begs. My cock sits at the entrance of her sex, goading, promising pleasures yet, not giving. Her sex glistens with her arousal. She pushes her hip up, swallowing the aching crown of my cock. Anastasia closes her eyes, with anticipation, yet I don’t give her the full satisfaction. Just the tip of my cock entertains her, gliding in just a painful inch, then out fully. The single dew on the tip appears, mixing in with her arousal. “Please!” she begs again, pushing her hips up trying unsuccessfully of her quest for full penetration. “What do you want Anastasia?” I ask spurring her on. “You want my cock inside you? Wrap me up in your cream? Make you sore?” I ask as I feed another inch into her pulsing sex. “Yes!” she pants. “I want all of you…” she exhales. “All the way in! Fuck me! Ride me hard!”

“Not yet, Anastasia,” I hiss through my teeth, as I push her legs further apart. I push another inch into her. She tries hard to receive all of me, but I hold her buttocks, digging in my fingers, halting her progress. “How much do want this Ana?” “A lot! Please!” she begs. “That’s what you shall get! If you leave me outside, I will leave my cock barely inside you to remind you what you make me feel like.” “Don’t punish me for showing possession over you,” she cries out. “No, baby, you own me already. Body and soul!” I say and thrust my cock into her making her cry out with satisfaction, arching her hips receptively. I start pushing into her with powerful charges. I'm Your Man - Leonard Cohen

“More!” she shouts making me ram into her so deep. I angulate my hips to thrust onto that deep spot aching to be rubbed by the tip of my erection. I lean in, and roll her onto her knees and elbows. My hand reaches down to tease, elongate her nipples as I make renewed efforts to plunge my cock deeper. My heavy balls slap against her with each thrust. Her breasts move, back and forth. Just as she starts whimpering with a pending orgasm, I change my angle to hold her on the precipice. I wrap her now loose hair around my wrist, pull her head backwards, and pummel my cock in deep penetrations for both of our pleasure.

“Christian! Christian! Christian Grey!” she shouts, my name a litany on her lips, carrying me over the precipice. As her orgasms rolls one into another, I empty myself into my wife, collapsing backwards, and rolling her onto me. “God! I love you, Anastasia!” I murmur when I come back to my senses. I untie her legs. “My man…” she whispers exhausted. “Mine…” “Yours. But don’t forget, you and the child inside you are mine. Have due care. Let me protect you both. It’s my job. Your husband’s.” “Hmm…”she hums. “I’ll do my best, husband,” she murmurs semi-coherently with a satisfied smile on her face before sleep claims her, while I’m still buried deep inside her.

In my Secret Life - Leonard Cohen

***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

The New York sunrise is hidden behind an overcast sky. Taylor is already set for workout when I get into the living room. “Mr. Grey, I had the trainer on standby duration of your stay in New York. Would you like to go now?” he asks. This is one reason Taylor is a very efficient employee. I don’t have to express him my needs before he can get the solutions in lined up. He knows that I use intense workout sessions as a form of stress relief. “Anyone I know?” I ask. “Jack Lee,” he says simply. My reaction is utmost surprise. “The Wushu Master? That Jack Lee?” I ask incredulous. “One and the same,” he replies. “How did you get him with such a short notice?” “I didn’t. Melissa trained with him in the past. She got him. I believe he’s warming up with her. She’s been in the gym for the last hour.” “Let’s see it,” I say leading the way out of the apartment. Sawyer is waiting by the door. “Good morning Mr. Grey,” he greets me. “If Mrs. Grey wakes up, tell her I’m at the gym downstairs, working out.” “Yes, Mr. Grey,” he responds.

When we get in the elevator, I turn to Taylor. “How long has Melissa known Lee?” I ask. “About eight years. He’s permanently on Pella’s payroll.” I tilt my head to look at Taylor.

“Permanently? The man is the most accomplished Wushu master in the world. He can set his own dollar amount for training top money in New York, and he’ll have them lining out of his door. I thought he was choreographing some martial arts movies.” “He’s friends with Jet Li. He helped him create some of the scenes in couple of his movie projects which were well received. But, I think he turns down other requests. He’s very particular in what decides to do.” “Yet, you say that he’s in New York permanently as opposed to traveling the world with Pella. Why?” I ask curiously. “The man has eyes and ears everywhere. As you know most big money attracted to other big money as well as the famous. But Pella hates the scene. That’s why he has his trusted men around the country to do the job. Lee is one of them in New York. He’s well connected with power, money, politics and fame.” “To say the least... Well, I’m looking forward to see his martial arts skills firsthand.” “He’s told Melissa that he can be available today should you require his services during Mrs. Grey’s symposium. I would recommend that we have added yet

inconspicuous security both for Mrs. Grey’s benefit as well as those who may be looking for security who is clearly employed by you. Both Mrs. Grey and her assistant well acquainted with Melissa and Sawyer. That would be a dead giveaway should paparazzi or any other danger be present.” “I thought you already have arranged added security. Are we expecting any particular danger?” “We always are, Mr. Grey. Those who are on our payroll will not be introduced to Mrs. Grey and her assistant, but because they might have to be in contact, it may still be a giveaway. The added security will be well blended in the crowd. However, the celebrity gossip bloggers are already looking forward to getting pictures of Mrs. Grey and you, sir. They’re not known, ordinary individuals who have a small following of readers. They’d be too hard to distinguish until they approach Mrs. Grey. It’s after all the biggest city in the country and this symposium is a very public event. I have spoken to Welch last night after Miss Richards’ incident. He is fervently recommending a wild card, someone others don’t know or expect, including the added security. Someone who is not regularly on Grey Enterprises payroll. Someone who will not be receiving orders from me, or Sawyer,” he explains. I nod. Knowing my wife has a habit of disobeying or disregarding danger, it is necessary to have a few added steps to the security. “Good call. Warn Miss Tiber to not to give it away to Mrs. Grey or her assistant Hannah, either. I want absolute stealth. As far as we are concerned, no one knows Lee, not you, not Melissa and not Sawyer. If there’s someone trying to stir the shit pot, I want to know it immediately. And I still want a full report once the symposium is over,” I order. I also make a mental note to have Welch check into Lauren’s whereabouts and why she decided to ambush my wife in the crowd of biggest money in the country. “As you wish, sir,” Taylor replies. When we make it to the gym, we find Melissa and Lee sparring. The act is very much like kickboxing but I see them utilizing the traditional weapons as well. Lee is absolutely skillful in using the Jiujiebian; the nine section whip. The ease in which he utilizes it and the expertise demonstrated by Melissa avoiding getting hit by the metal whip are very impressive. When they realize they have company observing them, they bow at each other and Melissa walks forward to introduce me to the master. For the next hour, Lee pushes me hard in training

like Claude Bastille and I decide to secure his services not just for today but for when we do visit New York in the future as well.

***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

“Christian, I thought you weren’t going to come to the symposium,” Anastasia protests. “Mrs. Grey, I have other business to attend. But your desire to have me with you is heartwarming,” I say dryly. “It’s not what I mean, and you know it. I feel like a child asking permission from her parents and that shouldn’t be like that.” “Baby, you’re not asking my permission. But you are not an ordinary woman either. Tell me, have you seen Hannah while I was gone for this morning’s business meeting?” I ask changing the topic. “No, she’ll be coming here soon. We’ll go over our agenda and then travel together to the symposium. She was going to meet me there, but I thought it was best to arrive together as opposed to trying to find her in the crowd.” “Great. How long is this event?” “It has already started, but we’re participating events that start after lunch. It goes all the way into the evening. There’s more of it tomorrow. If all goes well, Hannah and I might have private events with some other authors and even big publishers,” she replies excitedly. “Good luck to you and your assistant, Mrs. Grey. Remember to keep close to Melissa and Sawyer,” I warn her. “Yes, husband,” she replies rolling her eyes.

We have lunch ordered in from a French restaurant. Anastasia is craving crusty baguette, soup and salad. I tell Taylor to double the order but also add boeuf bourguignon. Before our lunch is over, her assistant arrives to the apartment. Anastasia looks exceedingly happy to see her assistant. “Hi Ana!” she greets my wife giving her a hug. “How do you do, Mr. Grey?” she adds blushing. I can see the restraint Ana forces herself to not to roll her eyes. Anastasia has to physically pull her to the coffee table in the living room to discuss their agenda. Satisfied with their results, they both stand up, and Anastasia announces that they’re ready to leave. I help her put her red coat on and make our way down to the garage. All the while, I’m holding her hand. “What time did you get in?” Anastasia asks. “Oh, late enough to have hard time in finding a cab from the airport,” she responds. “Luckily…” she starts, but then stops saying whatever she started out explaining. “Did you travel alone, Hannah?” I ask casually. She hesitates, briefly. “Uhm, yes, of course Mr. Grey. I, uhm, was alone coming from Seattle.” Her voice is brittle, a little off pitch. The way she answers raises my suspicion. Taylor’s eyes briefly meet with mine then with Melissa’s, but I don’t probe further. Maybe she hooked up with someone after she got here. Men and women do it often, especially those with busy careers who are not looking for a committed relationship. When we exit the apartment building cold gust of wind greets us immediately. Both Anastasia and Hannah hold onto their coats tighter. Taylor opens the limo door. I let Anastasia in. Sawyer and Hannah go to the other door and let Hannah in. I take my place next to my wife and pleasantly after the doors are closed, the cold air chased out by the blasting warm heat from the limo’s air vents.

“Will you be traveling back to Seattle with us, Hannah?” Anastasia asks her assistant. “Uhm…” she says hesitantly. “I would have loved to, Ana. But, I have my reservation back on a commercial flight,” she responds. “Okay,” Anastasia says shrugging. When we arrived at the hotel where the symposium being held, Taylor and Sawyer jump out of the limo to open the doors. I help my wife out and follow her to the entrance, but I don’t go into the building. “We’ll pick you up at 7:00 p.m. unless you are done earlier. Don’t over exert yourself, and call me if you don’t feel well for any reason.” She rolls her eyes, “I mean it Ana,” I lean in and whisper into her ear. Her breath catches momentarily, and for a second the world around dims and only the two of us exist. “Yes, sir,” she whispers back. I place a chaste kiss on her lips, and leave her to the care of her security. As soon as Anastasia, Hannah, Sawyer and Melissa walk into the building, Taylor opens the limo door, and lets me in. “Are the rest of the security in place?” I ask. “Yes, sir. Every one of them. They’re all synced in with Sawyer and Melissa.” “Good. How about Lee?” “He’s there, but we won’t see him. He’ll be stealthy as a ghost until he’s ready to give us his report.” My Blackberry buzzes as Taylor is talking. I hold my finger to Taylor and answer the phone. “Grey.” “Mr. Grey, some of the east coast shipbuilders, Mr. Burgen and Mr. Hedgedorf would like meet with you sir, and I have just entered them into your agenda for 4:00 p.m. which is 30 minutes to after your meeting with Mr. Ying.” “What’s in Ying’s agenda?” I ask. “He would like to discuss about meeting the quota determined for the upcoming quarter, sir.” “Where is the meeting with Burgen and Hedgedorf?” I ask. “Not far from Mr. Ying’s office. They wanted to meet at Mr. Hedgedorf’s office located in the Financial District. Your driver’s GPS has been sent the information already, Mr. Grey,” she replies. “Alright. Anything else?”

“Have you received the e-mail from the engineering team regarding the requested quota for our local dock from Taiwan, sir?” “I saw it this morning.” “Is there anything else I can do for you sir?” “Yes. Have Welch call me after I’m done with Ying.” “Yes, Mr. Grey,” she says as I disconnect the line.

***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

Ying’s office is large enough by New York standards. I am pleased with the progress the team in Taiwan making meeting and exceeding the standards. Even though they are slightly below the quota for the time being, he reassures me that they can make the quota. “I want weekly reports, Ying. Jobs here depend on Taiwanese team meeting the quota. Hire and train temporary or per diem workers if need be. We have allocated the expense for the year, but meet with finance as well. I don’t want you running over the budget. Keep it within the budget, but meet the demands.” He reassures me that as soon as the training of the existing employees is over for the required work standards, the team would meet the required quota. “You have three weeks to complete the training, and month and a half time to catch up to the quota,” I warn him. “Not just jobs here and Taiwan depend on it, but yours as well.” “Yes, Mr. Grey,” he voices his agreement. We leave Ying’s office at 3:00 p.m. and the temperatures hasn’t even risen a degree or two since we left the apartment. If

anything, the wind seems to be sharper and relentless, howling like an ominous messenger. The limo approaches us and Taylor opens the door to let me in. Once we settle in our seats I turn to Taylor. “Any news from Melissa or Sawyer?” I ask. “Nothing, sir.” He responds. “Weren’t they supposed to check in with you?” I ask quizzically. “Not unless there’s an incident, sir. Because there’s a large group of individuals they’ll have to keep an eye on, it may be difficult for them to make a call. They won’t be unable to keep a running circle since they won’t be able to keep strangers away from Mrs. Grey. They have to be close to her at all times.” As if on cue, my Blackberry buzzes. It’s Welch as I asked. “Grey’s here,” I answer. “Mr. Grey, I am calling as you requested. I have had some time to research about Dr. Lauren Richards. However, I haven’t found any concrete information yet sir.” “Let’s start with what you found,” I command. “Dr. Richards works at New York Presbyterian as an Emergency Medicine doctor. She is subbing the New York socialite and railroad old money Mr. Paul VanDyneveak.” “Railroad? What could the railroad guy have anything to do with me?” I ask. “There isn’t anything, sir. That’s the problem. We don’t know why she was ready to make a personal attack towards you or Mrs. Grey, sir. There’s no mental illness, or anything she has presented, and it would be incomprehensible for her to put her career in jeopardy with such a bold action.” “But, she has! Not only she made attempts, but she also upset my wife greatly. It could have been worse. I don’t want any fuck ups Welch. If you have to interrogate her personally, do it. There’s something going on, and I want to find out what it is!” “Yes, Mr. Grey. But, I am almost absolutely certain that it’s not because of her current Dom. He doesn’t know who she was with prior to their relationship. She’s been with him, since you let her go.” “Why then would a sane woman jeopardize her career, her current relationship and knowing who I am and what I’m capable of doing would she take the risk of getting me angry with her?” I ask.

“She has no benefits from you, and as far as she knows, you have insurance against exposure,” he says. I don’t respond. All that ‘insurance’ are burnt after Leila left them in the closet and they were discovered by Ana. “You’re not asking the right questions, Welch. What could be worse than exposure? Find out the answer to that, and we’ll find the culprit, or at least the reason for that inexplicable verbal attack or whatever else she has planned that night and thanks to Mrs. Solomon’s baby, failed.” “I’ll travel to New York tomorrow, sir, and I will interview Miss Richards,” Welch says. “Do that,” I say and hang up.

The drive to takes another 20 minutes. I make every effort to not to call Anastasia. She’s in her symposium, she may not hear the phone, and she may be just enjoying her day with her first event of her career. Yet, since yesterday, I can’t shake the uneasy feeling. I deal her phone, but it directly goes to voice mail. She didn’t say anything about turning her cell phone off. I call Sawyer. After the third ring, he answers. He has to shout to get himself heard because there’s so much background noise. “I’m sorry Mr. Grey. I can’t hear you well enough, sir. Can you please repeat your question?” he asks. “How is Mrs. Grey?” I ask again for the fourth time. “Very busy, sir. She’s one of the most popular editors here. There’s quite a crowd around her. But, she’s well, sir.” “Okay, let me or Taylor know immediately if she’s not feeling well, or anything unscheduled happens. Do you know why Mrs. Grey’s cell phone is turned off?” “Yes, sir. Mrs. Grey earlier realized that she forgot to charge it. She said you can reach her through Hannah’s phone.” “Did she now?” I say frowning. Anything out of protocol feels wrong. “She did, sir,” he replies uneasily. “Why not yours or Melissa’s?” “You can reach her through one of ours, as well sir. I’m assuming it’s because Hannah and Mrs. Grey are sitting together whereas we are within two to five feet radius,” is his response.

“Have Mrs. Grey call me at the first break she gets. Otherwise I worry, and we might just join her at her convention,” I say hanging up.

Two flustered and secretaries, a male and a female greet us at Hedgedorf’s office at the financial district. I’m swiftly led into the tycoon’s private office where it’s overlooking the Wall Street itself. “You have quite a view here,” I say in greeting. The middle aged man receives my extended hand with a firm grasp. “Glad you think so, Mr. Grey. I have heard that it was hard to impress you. It is indeed a compliment coming from you. Let me reintroduce you to George Burgen,” he indicates, stocky, balding man who is in a custom made three piece suit. “Mr. Burgen,” I say as I take his hand. “George, please,” he says with a very evident New Yorker accent. “I am sure you are wondering why we wanted to have a meeting you. But, first, what is your pleasure? What would you like to drink?” he asks going to a corner in his office with a bar. “Coffee and water. I don’t drink in business hours,” I respond. I look at both of them with an impassive face. “We have a business proposal for you Mr. Grey,” starts Hedgedorf in a gravelly voice. “I gathered as much. I’m listening.”

“We need to add three new transatlantic cargo ships within the next year to our fleet, and no one has the capacity to manufacture what we want.” “Surely gentlemen, there are ships available to purchase should you need to get them immediately,” I say cocking my head. “We know you have standards that are higher, Grey. The reason we are asking to have them built, and we are also going to ask you to have the existing ships modified to our specifications is that we have been hit by pirates every single time, and our losses are great. Not only merchandise, the lost time, but we have lost crew,” Burgen says. “I haven’t heard anything on the news. The piracy has been a problem in recent years around West Africa reported the International Maritime Bureau. But how bad is it?” I ask. “Bad,” Hedgedorf says drinking the dark amber liquid in one gulp, taking a large gulp of air as if the liquid burned its way down his throat, then almost slams the cut crystal onto the coffee table. “Every single one of our ships and tanker hit. 951 of our sailors attacked. 206 hostages, five killed within the last two weeks. It’s almost we are working to feed the pirates!” Burgen says with a poorly concealed desperation. “But, surely, this many attacks would cause some sort of international news, or would have made through the circuits.” “It has, but this is ‘do business at your own risk’ kind of thing. It’s accepted to have danger in that location. You know that as well as we do. We have reports that you send aid through Gulf of Aden. The last aid you sent we’ve heard was through air drops. But you had a choice; we can’t carry oil tankers by air. We have to get through Gold of Aden, Gulf of Guinea and through western Indian Ocean.” “I’m aware of the Somali pirates. Are there more?” Hedgedorf heaves a frustrated breath. “Nigeria. It’s Africa’s largest oil producer and a new danger zone with pirates targeting fuel cargo. Our oil has been stolen nine out of ten times within the last year, loaded onto other ships and sold in lucrative black market. They don’t even release the ships on ransom anymore!” “Don’t forget South-East Asia and the Indian subcontinent. Singapore Straits, Bangladesh, Malacca Straits, South China Sea. In Africa, Nigeria is the worst, but Ivory Coast remains a concern, so is Tog, Red Sea…” Hedgedorf says shaking his head.

“But Nigeria is still the worst. And unlike Somalia, money moves quickly in Nigeria,” adds Burgen. “This sort of thing would take months in Somalia, but these pirates have been taking our oil cargo and the money and our shipment is gone within weeks. A lesser company would have bankrupted. Insurance companies are not willing to take the risk to insure us. And if they do insure our cargo, we’re just working for the pirates and the insurance companies.” “What is it that you want from my company?” I ask sitting back my arms crossed. “We want out ships rigged with defense systems like in the Navy’s to protect our goods before they run us out of business,” Burgen says. “Our losses are in billions, Grey,” Hedgedorf says grimly. “But, I doubt that no matter what I rig your ships with or how I build them, you will have sailors, not warriors. How do you intend to keep them safe?” I ask. “We’re hiring private defense contractors whose sole job is the protection of our ships. Do you have the capacity to build what we want?” Bergen asks. “I do,” I respond. My simple response causes both men to give out a sigh of relief at the same time. “How soon do you want these done?” The two men look at each other. “Yesterday.” “Well, we have today gentlemen. I will of course need your specifications. My engineers will need to see how those requirements can apply to cargo ships. After all, you don’t have warships,” I respond. “If you can get us successfully protected, you may become the pioneer in this field, and the only one. Shipping companies will line up to do business with you. This is something hard to come by in this economy.” “You’ve got to help us Grey! Every single one of our cargo ships has to pass through the hijacking corridor. We have no ship that escaped the attack. Not a single one,” Bergen says as if he just aged ten years. “I’ll do my best. But first, I need detailed reports on what happened each ship, how it was attacked, what was taken, in what manner it was taken, and how your cargo was disposed in order to be able to identify individual weaknesses of each vessel.” “That would be no problem; my company will send all those reports within the next forty-eight hours,” says Hedgedorf. “So can mine,” adds Bergen. My Blackberry buzzes. The number isn’t someone who is listed on my speed dial.

“Excuse me gentlemen. I will have to get this.” The men nods. “Grey,” I answer curtly walking to the corner of the office. “Christian. Hi!” Anastasia’s voice comes through excited. “Hi, baby. Are you on your assistant’s phone?” “Yes. I was going to let you know that Fox Boyd, SIP’s most famous author, a local publisher here in New York, and my assistant will go to get a bite to eat and have some business to discuss,” she says. “Are you asking me, or telling me, Ana? I thought we’re having dinner together. And besides, this is unscheduled.” She sighs a little frustrated. “Christian, this is part of this function. We are here to connect with other writers and publishers. It is beneficial for SIP to have connections with larger publishers. It is a well-known company, Christian.” “Who exactly are coming?” “Fox Boyd, Random rep, my assistant, and my security detail.” “How long is this supposed to take?” I ask checking the time. It’s about 5:00 p.m. “I don’t know. I thought you can meet me where we are going around 6:30? That way we’d be done with meeting and have dinner together.” I hate change of plans. They’re unpredictable and hard to prepare on the spot. “Anastasia, this wasn’t the plan. And I thought I made it abundantly clear that you weren’t going to do this sort of thing.” “I said, I’d do my best and I am doing my best within what you want and what my work demands. It’s just dinner Christian, not the end of the world! And you will be meeting me,” she says. “Where will you be going?” I ask. “A restaurant called the Lounge at Daniel,” she responds. “Oh, has an excellent wine cellar. Good food. Alright, we’ll meet you there, then. And, Ana?” “Yes?” she replies warily. “You know what this has earned you,” I murmur impassively. “Yes, sir. I’ve come to know pink as the color of pleasure,” she responds with a low husky voice. “Expect a lot of it, then, Mrs. Grey.” “Christian?” “What?”

“Thank you. Best first New York trip ever and even if I got to meet unpleasant doctors.” “I’ll see you soon, Mrs. Grey.” “I love you Mr. Grey,” she says with excitement. “Me, too, baby. Me, too. And Ana, you’re still not off the hook,” I murmur before hanging up. The drive to Daniel takes about 25 minutes through Park Avenue and Broadway. Taylor receives a phone call from Lee during the drive. I extend my hand for his phone. “Grey,” I say. “Mr. Grey. I’d like to report that most of the event went without incident.” “Most?” I ask. “You heard correctly, sir. Your security was efficient keeping away the individuals who weren’t on the list of attendees. Close security details were quite efficient.” “But, I hear a ‘but’ coming,” I say. “It is only a hunch. Nothing untoward happened. But I noticed electronic interference. After all, we can’t solely examine the threats visible to the naked eye.” “How did you come to that conclusion?” “When the majority of the people having difficulty making phone calls, one must consider the possibility. There was a transmitter interference where the majority of the cellular phones experienced and most of the individuals complained their phones draining of charge because the devices were constantly looking for a signal that was being blocked. I noticed Mrs. Grey experienced the same, and I believe both of Mrs. Grey’s close security details have cell phones drained of power.” I take my Blackberry out of my pocket, hand it to Taylor. “Call Sawyer and Melissa,” I order while on the phone with Lee. “Why then wasn’t…” “Miss Hannah’s phone? She probably has experienced the same, since she seemed to have it hooked onto her laptop to keep it charged.” “I see. Have you pinpointed what or who was causing the interference?” “I didn’t have the adequate equipment for detection with me.” I look up to Taylor who shakes his head indicating he can’t reach Sawyer or Melissa through cell phone. He radios them.

“Did you not charge your cell phones last night?” he hisses into the radio. He listens, and breathes out a frustrated breath. “How’s Mrs. Grey?” he asks and he seems to be satisfied with the response. “We’re driving by the Central Presbyterian Church on Park and East 64 th. ETA’s five minutes,” he answers an unheard question. “Charge your fucking phones next time!” he hisses. “From now on, you’re all required to carry on-the-go chargers. I need to be able to reach you on something other than the radio!” “Did anyone follow my wife and her group to the restaurant?” I ask. “I had not detected anyone following Mrs. Grey and her company sir.” “Alright, Lee. Thanks.” “I will be there as well Mr. Grey,” he replies as a matter of factly. “There?” “At the restaurant of course. You might need an extra pair of eyes and ears,” he responds as if this is the most natural thing to do. “Will I see you there?” “Of course not,” he says with a smile in his voice. “Thanks,” I say and disconnect. “Coincidence?” I ask Taylor. “No, sir. One too many. Last night and today. Just one too many to be a coincidence.” I look outside the darkening sky as we approach the parking for Daniel. Just want to get my wife and take her home. The Maître D greets us at the entrance. “Mr. Grey, what a pleasure to have you sir. This way please” he says. I am uneasy until I see my wife healthy and happy. I see her sitting at a table her back turned to me, but as always she feels my presence, and turns to look at me. Her face brightens when she sees me. “Christian!” is her greeting. She slowly rises from her seat with her hand reaching out to me. I close the distance between us, keeping her in my arms tightly. “You ok?” she whispers.

“I am now, Mrs. Grey. I am now” I murmur with relief as if my reason for being appeared. Once I let her go, she turns around the table blushing. “Let me introduce you my husband, Mr. Christian Grey,” she says with evident pride, emphasizing, ‘my husband’. “Thank you for keeping my wife safe and entertained until I got here,” I say giving them a smile, sitting next to Anastasia after the Maître D seats her in her place, pushing her chair in. I see Taylor scanning the patrons imperceptibly, seemingly calm, but he is on the edge like I feel. Melissa and Sawyer follow suit all in sync with him. We are safe for tonight.

CHAPTER XXVI THE STORM “Passion makes a person stop eating, sleeping, working, feeling at peace. A lot of people are frightened because, when it appears, it demolishes all the old things it finds in its path.”

Paulo Coelho

I acquaint myself with the people around the table but my eyes, body and mind are fixed on Anastasia alone. Someone named Boyd or other asks me if I have read his book. I haven’t of course. But it was one of the books my wife was editing and gisting during our honeymoon. I vaguely remember the content from what she has told me. “No, but then again, my wife told me the story so well, I feel as if I’ve read it.” “Will it at least make your to read list then?” he asks. “That list is very exclusive. As you would appreciate, I have only limited time, and the genre would rarely make my list unless it involves world financial systems.”

“Unfortunately, it’s purely romance. I will have to trust Mrs. Grey to have gisted the story in full to you”, he says shaking his head with a smile. “Well, she has,” I say without taking my eyes off my wife. Anastasia blushes and smiles back at me. Dinner goes along in a fast blur; I’m anxious to go home when I see Taylor wordlessly answer his cell phone. I see rather than hear him say “wait” to the person calling. We lock eyes as he comes to the table.

“Excuse me Mr. Grey,” he says for the benefit of the people around the table, and then leans in. “Welch is in town and he would like to meet you.” I nod my head to him to walk away from the table from the prying eyes and ears. “Tell him to come to the apartment later,” I order. “Apparently he can’t,” he responds. I raise my eyebrows in irritation, questioning. “Something about catching a lead before he jumps the city. But he needs instructions from you about Dr. Richards.” “And that can’t be done over the phone?” He shakes his head locking eyes with me. “He has documents for your eyes only,” he whispers. Anastasia looks at us questioningly. I smile at her to reassure her that all is well. “Where is he?”

“He’s at a coffee shop on East 78th and Madison. How soon can we leave, sir?” I groan inwardly. I don’t like change of plans without notice. “Go pay for the meals while I talk to Ana,” I order Taylor. I walk towards Anastasia, give her a smile then turn the company at the table. “It was nice meeting you all but business calls and we have to leave. Please enjoy yourselves. I’ve taken care of the tab which is the least we can do since we have to leave your company,” I say while still watching Ana’s confused face. “Surely, Mrs. Grey isn’t needed for your business meeting. She could grace us with her company,” says one of the publishers whose name I remember to be Cooper. I look at him pointedly. “How wrong you are Mr. Cooper. Mrs. Grey is always needed.” “I’m sure she is, Mr. Grey. I just meant that she would be inconsequential for your business whereas she can further her connections between our publishing houses here,” he says. I stare at him to say ‘are you out of your fucking mind?’ “Mrs. Grey is the most important individual in his place,” I say as he withers under the intensity of my focus. “She can never be inconsequential. Ever!” My voice is soft and low but it is as if I shouted my words at him. “Of course, I didn’t mean… I mean, perhaps maybe tomorrow we can continue the business talks. Right, Ana?” Anastasia turns to me with a look that says ‘let me handle this’. I don’t want to, but I let her take the lead. “Mr. Cooper," she says ignoring the fact that he just addressed her by her first name. "My husband is right. I would like to leave. We have sorted out our business dealings for today and I’m sure nothing else is left that cannot be sorted out through e-mail or phone. Besides, the business decisions of the SIP are made by the owner.”

“Oh, I see. Of course, your corporate office…” he says like an afterthought. “I’m sure you’re not given the authority to make decisions on behalf of the SIP. I’m authorized to make such decision on behalf of our publishing house,” he says with an arrogant pride. “No, Mr. Cooper. I mean the owner. The corporate office is just that: The Corporate Office. The major decisions will still have to be run by the owner.” “Who is…” he says as he makes a gesture for Ana to elaborate as if he's talking to a three year old, leaving the end asking her to complete his sentence. “Me, Mr. Cooper. I own SIP,” I respond impatiently. “Really? I had no idea you were into publishing, Mr. Grey.” “There is a lot you don’t know about Mr. Grey. My husband is a brilliant man,” Anastasia answers him with pride both in her eyes and her voice as she rises from her chair. The men in their chairs also rise along with her assistant Hannah who seems to have a habit of jumping out of her seat. “Do you want me to share a cab with you Ana? I mean if you want to…” she says and the last word dies down in her mouth “…stay”. “No need for that. We have a vehicle waiting outside,” I say brusquely. “Do you need a ride Hannah?” Anastasia asks her. But I give Hannah a forbidding stare and she shakes her head. “My hotel is very close to here. So, no. Thank you for the offer,” she adds. “I will definitely contact you for future collaboration, Mrs. Grey,” says one of the female publishers. “I also would like to collaborate with you. It would be an honor to do business with someone who became so successful at such a young age,” says Cooper. I wrap my wife in my arms possessively, territorially. Sawyer and Melissa already close the security rings they create. Taylor comes up and nods stating the bill’s been paid.

“Good evening everyone,” I say after placing Anastasia’s coat on then leading her outside. The cold air greets us with the door opening. I hold Anastasia’s hand while supporting her waist, making sure she doesn’t fall down. “What business are you supposed to be attending?” she asks. I raise a quizzical eyebrow. “Oh, come on Christian. You have something important to do, but you don’t want me to be left alone with the editors. I can see that it’s something urgent. But you don’t want me to come. Am I correct?” she asks and then yawns. “Baby, nothing as important. Besides, you’re tired. I need you to go home and rest while I figure out what Welch wants to talk about.” “Is everyone or everything okay in Seattle?” she bristles with concern. “Yes, everyone’s well. This isn’t about Seattle baby, just important business,” I say. “Welch isn’t your business guy. He’s the head of your security. Is the business about your former sub?” she asks as Taylor does his best to ignore the remark and opens the limo’s door for her. I frown, follow her into the limo. “Please be a little more discreet in public. Yes and no. I’m not exactly sure what he wants to talk to me about.” “I thought we weren’t keeping secrets, Christian,” she complains. “I won’t. I don’t want to speculate when I don’t know what it’s about. It could be a number of things. All I know that it’s important and he needs to see me face to face. So the limo will drop me and Taylor off at a coffee shop to meet Welch then take you, Sawyer and Tiber back to the apartment. I’ll be back home as soon as my business is done,” I explain. She nods, seeming upset. I lift her chin up. “Mrs. Grey, you know my nightly routine doesn’t include business excursions outside. My sole business is finding infinite ways to make you come,” I murmur

to her ear. Her breath hitches, she squeezes her legs, and the reflection of her passion is repeated within the grasp of her hand held within mine. “Fine, but hurry back. This New York apartment still doesn’t feel like home.” “Why, Mrs. Grey, are you telling me that you missed home already?” “Of course, I did, Mr. Grey,” she says smiling. Taylor’s voice breaks our connection and suddenly the other voices flood my senses. “We’re here Mr. Grey,” he says opening the door. “You’re going directly home, and nowhere else,” I remind her. “Christian, I’m pregnant, hungry for some snacks and tired. Even if I wanted to, I'm too tired right now,” she says with an unlady like snort. “Kitchen at the apartment is fully stocked. If you crave for something else, the top cabinet drawer next to the fridge contains take out menus which Sawyer or Melissa can order for you. But,” I say pointing finger, “absolutely no going out for any reason! Especially in this weather… Snowstorm is supposed to be hitting tonight,” I order. “It's already tonight Christian and the snow is already falling. How will you get home?” she asks with wide eyes. “The limo will come back for me after the driver drops you three off, baby,” I tell her to sooth her concern. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be back soon.” I give her a quick kiss and close the limo’s door behind me, stopping the escape of warm air from the vehicle. Taylor and I rush to the café which is flanked by Hermes and Barneys on the street and some other luxury shops. Taylor pulls the door open and the onslaught of the fresh scents of coffee and Danish greet us. The interior of the place is cozy, shoebox size. I spot Welch right away. He’s sitting with a man in a Yankees ball cap, jeans, cowboy boots and dark casual shirt with rolled up sleeves. His coat slung on the backing of the chair he’s sitting in. I glance over the interior of the shop out of habit and take in the contents. The place is devoid of

customers other than Welch and his company. By the heavenly scent permeating and mouthwatering displays on the pastry case, I don’t think it’s the food but my security closed the shop. Welch gets up right away to greet me with a somber face. When his company lifts his face up, recognition dawns on me. I’ve not seen him in anything other than expensive suits since college. He stands to his full height gracefully, fluidly and confidently as if he’s the owner of this whole damn town and extends his right hand which I grasp it in the usual forearm shake. “To what do I owe your presence here, Alex?” I ask. “It’s nice to see you, too, Grey” he grins in response. “I’m in town for a couple of days and you needed my eyes and ears. Or so I’m told. Seattle is your town, but, New York and LA are mine,” he says casually and points to the available chair. After looking around, I spot his personal bodyguard Anthony, standing at a vantage point where he can observe the entire room, back and the front entries, but he is conveniently concealed. Taylor comes back to the table, places my coffee before me, then goes where Anthony is standing. “Mr. Grey, I don’t have much time, so, I’ll explain it as best as I can in the shortest time possible,” Welch interjects. He places a manila envelope before me. I take the envelope and empty the contents before me which produces a folder and a memory card, the kind you put in the smart phones or tablets. “Dr. Richards is a hard woman to get a hold of,” starts Welch without a preamble. She has powerful alliances in her current, uh, boyfriend,” qualifies Welch, then continues. “So, the fact that she knew me, made it even harder to talk to her. She blocked all the venues!! All of them! All of my attempts to reach her including a visit to New York Presbyterian ended up by her threatening me for stalking. She was even unfazed by uhm, the insurance policy we have against her,” he says and I cringe. “However, there’s more than one way to collect information and that’s my business,” adds Pella. “What have you got?” I ask bristling with edgy, nervous energy.

Welch produces a small 8 inch tablet. “May I?” he says extending his hand for the memory card. I hand it to him. He inserts it in the slot and the screen comes to life. There are image files. A laughing teenager’s happy face fills the screen. I shake my head questioningly. “Well?” I ask irritated. “Keep sliding,” says Pella. With my index finger, I scroll through the contents. One after the other, images of the same girl going to school, hanging out with friends, then in college and in her dorm room. Then an image appears to be an upscale store in which she’s handcuffed with a terrified face, followed by a mug shot, fingerprints for shoplifting, then in a place which appears to be more like a dungeon. This time, she appears to be stripped of her clothes and of her innocence. Image after image shows her in various sexual positions. I notice the set up to be a sex club due to its similarity to the ones I have visited in the past. The final image shows a note that simply says “Caught and Punished”. “Who is this?” I ask, although I have an ominous feeling who it might be. Simply seeking confirmation. “Dr. Richards’ baby sister.” “What does she have to do with me?” “She’s a means to an end, the weakest link in a chain to yank by six degrees of separation. She yanks Dr. Lauren’s chain, and by close acquaintance, Dr. Lauren can yank yours,” Pella explains. “Even if it is to her own detriment. What we are seeing here is just a move as in a chess move. Do you play chess?” asks Pella with such nonchalance, it irritates me given the topic. “Yes, Alex, you know I play strategy games!” I nearly growl exasperated.

“Good!" he responds giving me a brilliant smile. Lifts his face up, sits back and crosses his arms. Then his face takes a serious expression. "That means you should recognize and understand what is going on here. What would you sacrifice to bring your opponent’s King down?” he asks hypothetically, raising his eyebrows. My mind is too addled to play hypothetical chess games. He answers his own question. “Would you sacrifice all of your eight pawns, your two knights, your two bishops, your two rooks, and even the only queen? Short of your King, you can sacrifice it all if your aim is to win the game. Because what matters is that you are the only King standing in the game of Chess.” “Enough with the strategy game analogy Alex. I’m sure I’m not here to get a lesson in chess.” “Christian Grey, you still don’t see it? Whoever it is, or they are, a pawn and a rook are being sacrificed here. A rook is stronger than a bishop or a knight. You know what the game says… Two rooks are generally considered to be worth slightly more than a queen. It’s a major piece in the game. Whoever it is won a rook by sacrificing a lowly pawn, namely the sister, and that lowly pawn brought down a rook, Dr. Richards. The rook is being used to bring down a queen, your Queen and the queen will bring down the King.” “Alex, fucking English please!” “Dr. Richards does not have the potential to bring you down. That wasn’t the purpose of the player. However she was meant to be used to bring down your queen which somehow the other person’s attempts were unsuccessful since your queen had tricks of her own. If Mrs. Grey didn’t behave like she did last night, you well know what would have happened with such a gathering: the unforgiving memory of society thanks to you being elusively famous, the paparazzi and of course the never forgetting internet. You know that as well as I do that it takes years to build reputation and minutes to destroy it. Who would benefit from your fall?” he asks. The list can be long. Success takes a long list of rivals left in the dust. But there may be others, one particular other. I look at Welch knowingly.

“So far, no apparent activity. He’s still seeking court action claiming hostile takeover. All his efforts seemed to have focused in that direction. Of course it doesn’t mean he’s not involved someway, but so far all the surveillance shows that he’s focusing his efforts in litigations.” “Dismiss no one!” Alex interjects. “Who were you going to follow that prevented you from coming to my apartment?” “I don’t know the name. Mr. Pella’s man,” he says nodding Alex’s direction, “the one you met earlier in the day is on him. But the guy knows he’s being followed, and he’s not without tricks of his own. “What permission do you need from me then?” “Dr. Lauren is unwilling to cooperate. Since her sister is involved, do you wish to pull her strings to cooperate using our insurance?” “I don’t think it would work,” I say even if I still had all the ‘insurance’ I have destroyed. “I don’t either,” Pella agrees. “There’s simply nothing people won’t do to protect those they love, including their own destruction and demise. She’s protecting her baby sister, not just from an embarrassing reveal, but possibly from more. If you’re not in town, the impact will be less, but we want to eliminate any damage to you and your family not to mention to your company. So, the question comes to this: what other game pieces are lined up against you? This couldn’t be the only one. Is this a simple distraction, a sacrifice of an important game piece to isolate the King?” “The Queen,” I respond. “Whoever it was, they wanted to isolate my Queen.” “Then the question becomes," Pella says, leaning forward looking at me without blinking, "Would the King sacrifice himself to save the Queen?” he asks already knowing the answer. “Undoubtedly,” I respond gravely.

“There’s your weakest link, then. They’ll approach you through her,” he says sitting back with his arms crossed. “You understand the game now?” Alex asks. “They’ll never come at you. Never!” he says emphasizing. “They’ll come at your Queen. The Queen shall bring down her own King,” he says. And how well do I know that? I’d give everything up for Ana, even my own life. I prefer to keep all of us intact of course which means I need to prepare an offensive strike against an unknown enemy. “How do we find this person? And how did you get your hands on Dr. Richards’ documents?” “I can be very," says Pella motioning with his hands as if to sort through the right word. He settles for, "persuasive. Everyone has strings attached somewhere and Dr. Richards pulls the strings of a New York billionaire who has aspirations of becoming a Senator. The future senator really wouldn’t want his singular predilections exposed so publicly. I simply reminded him the Senate race early 2000s against a well-known Republican politician from a Midwestern state who not only lost the senate seat but possibly the presidency because of that scandal. Politics can also be nasty. Dr. Richards’ boyfriend would really like to be in the race and any leakage, even the slight gossip of it would be bad for him. Threat of that of course, provided his begrudging cooperation granted that none of that leaks to the media. I had to reassure him that it wouldn’t. Because it’s to no one’s benefit.” “What now?” “It only bought us time. He’s going to restrain his girlfriend, but he knows that the scandal is only one file sharing website away to be leaked. He said he’s having the internet monitored by his team of geeks 24/7 to prevent and contain any possible damage should anything leak and of course if he finds the person, he'll bring an injunction against him to prevent him or her leaking that information. I brought it to his attention that his girlfriend exposing herself in her private tastes could also be detrimental more so to him than anyone else which of course he agreed.”

I run an exasperated hand through my hair. “Do you want to contact the Doctor yourself?” Welch asks, but his phone must have buzzed because he holds an apologetic finger and looks at the screen. “Excuse me, sir,” he says, then slides the screen to answer the call. “Yes,” he says. Waits for the answer. “Lost him? Where?” Then hearing the response grimaces his face. “Is there any chance to catch up to him?” Him. Who is ‘him’? “Fine. Give me your God damned location. I’ll come and get it.” Upon listening to the murmured answer on his phone he automatically turns his head towards the front door of the shop. There’s nothing to see just darkness and the shop’s light showing heavy snow fall only steps away. “Tomorrow then,” he says confirming a meeting, then hangs up. Pella doesn’t say anything as if he heard all the conversation. “It was Lee. He lost the man who was lurking at the convention today, or rather playing some electronic tricks blocking everyone’s wireless reception.” “Lost him?” “Yes, sir. But he recovered something off his laptop’s hard drive. Unfortunately, while trying to decipher the information the hard drive got damaged mostly because of the self-destruct encryption.” “How?” I ask. “How could this other man manage to do that in a short time?” “It’s quite simple actually. When the man got caught with his virtual pants down by Lee he had to run leaving his laptop behind. But he remotely entered a privileged command with a predetermined password at login to trigger destruction of the user data," Welch answers. “How will that help us? What pertinent information did the hard drive contain that caused us to meet here today?” I ask pointedly.

“Mr. Grey, the man has access to Mrs. Grey’s schedule. That much Lee was able to determine and some e-mails she received from you to her e-mail account.” “What?” I jump to my feet. “Most of it is destroyed. But, we don’t know how he received that information or gained access to it.” My mind is running 100 miles a minute. Someone has access to my wife’s private content of her e-mail account. “I want that fucking hard drive analyzed by Barney, and Barney only! Which email account?” I ask through gritted teeth. “The SIP, and the schedule is what was entered into the SIP Calendar. But the information is only partial. Either the SIP data is hacked which is very likely or the smart phones are hacked. Lee described the condition of the hard drive content as like a piece of paper where most of it is burnt but still some crucial information remained. That’s how he was able to determine the SIP part of it.” “Why couldn’t you get the hard drive now?” I ask changing topics. I want to have the possession of that hard drive immediately. “There’s a storm advisory. The worst snow storm of the year is already upon us. He’ll get it to me tomorrow when the streets are cleared by the city. It’s too dangerous right now and he’s off the Manhattan Island. Most people are only seeking shelter or remaining indoors at this time.” “Christian, where is Mrs. Grey?” asks Alex. “I sent her to our apartment. She should already be home by now." I respond. "You better make sure she’s got home with the snow storm coming. Do you have a ride back to your place?” Come to think of it, the limo should have already been back. But it has not.

“Mr. Grey, I have the confirmation that Mrs. Grey and the security made it home. They’re well, sir. But, the limo will not be back until the storm subsides, or at least lets out a little,” Taylor interjects tucking his cell phone in with a stoic face. “Shit!” I hiss. “I have a large interest in a 5 star luxury hotel only a block away on Madison & 77th. I’m sure we can get that far until the storm lets out." I don’t like the idea of leaving Anastasia by herself. I need to get home. Pella sees the conflicting face I have. “Come on, Grey. As soon as the snow stops, you can be on your way which shouldn’t be more than a few hours.” I find myself pacing back and forth in the small space, feeling confined. “I’ll have Anthony drive you. I have an AWD Knight Conquest, no weather is too harsh for it. Just wait till the storm passes over.” “Two hours tops,” I acquiesce reluctantly. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

La passion est toute l'humanité, sans elle, la religion, l'histoire, le roman, l'art seraient inutiles.

Passion is in all humanity; without it, religion, history, literature and art would be rendered useless.

True to his own self, Alex comes through and he had secured the largest suite which occupies two top floors of the hotel and it’s a good thing, because every other room is completely occupied, surprising for the season. As soon as I get a private room to hang my hat in, the first thing I do is to dial Anastasia’s phone. “Christian?” she answers. “Hi, baby,” I respond.

“You’re late,” she says accusatory. “I’ll be home in a couple of hours. A bad snowstorm is passing through and I’m stuck. We’ve taken refuge at a hotel in the Upper East Side.” “Taylor and Mr. Welch?” she asks concerned. “They’re also here. Have you eaten, yet?” I ask changing the topic. “Yes, there were plenty of snacks here. We didn’t need to take out.” “What did you do since you got home?” I ask. “I had some snack because your son was hungry,” she says reiterating ‘your son’. “Our son,” I correct her. “Yes, well, he was hungry, but, I made myself a sandwich. Just took a bath, and waiting for you to come home in bed.” “Really Mrs. Grey? What are you wearing?” What the hell? Where did that come from? Such a cliché but I want to do this play with her right now. Anastasia gets the gist and her voice gets the deep sultriness that would make any phone sex operator jealous. Not that I would ever have the need for that but she has the voice of a seductress. “I am wearing the line from ‘My Husband’s T-Shirt Catalog’,” she replies emphasizing. “You should be in silk or satin, baby,” I respond. “Oh, I don’t know. I prefer wearing your scent than any silk or satin, husband. And right now, I’m sprawled against the headboard, not only completely bored to tears, but utterly turned on. There’s no one to entertain me,” she says giving an exaggerated sigh. I groan throwing my head back. “Aaand Mr. Grey, I totally feel like I’m in some sort of heat. I don’t know who can put me out.”

“Anaaa!” I hiss through my teeth barely recognizing the primal guttural sound coming from within me. “I want no one’s finger in my pie! Even as a joke! Do you understand?” I hiss. “Not, even me, sir?” she asks innocently. “We could make that exception for you tonight seeing how I neglected you, but I and only I will get you there.” “Yes, sir,” she responds obediently. She knows how to get me hard, but then again, I’m always half way there with my wife. “This morning, just as I am now, I got hard as hell just by watching you sleep.” “Watching you sleep is a rare treat for me as well,” she murmurs. “Yes, but my cock was like a thick, heavy rope, throbbing, aching to get inside you which is why I pulled you beneath me and slid into your sex before even your eyes were fully open. Even when you’re half asleep, your body responds to mine like nothing else. The way you moan when I’m deep inside you, the way you fist around me when I pull back out as if you can’t get enough of me and the way you keep coming one after delicious wave and another. You drive me half fucking crazy where being inside you is a need like the air I breathe.” A soft whimper, mixed with lascivious need escapes her lips and reaches my ears. My voice is deep, a little harsh, seductive, and smooth like velvet at times, but it is getting her weak at the knees. “Christian! I want you here! I wish you were here inside me,” she moans. “I know baby, I know. But, I’ll make this good for you. Take your shirt off as I would do. Because if I was there, I’d get you bare naked and lick your delectable skin from your lips to your toes. I want you to think my mouth on you. I will not ride you hard before I get you soft and wet. I'll take my time with my mouth and my hands. I want you to cup your breasts and roll your nipples between your thumb and finger. Both of them. Like I would,” I whisper seductively, like the serpent calling Eve to taste the apple. ‘Try it. You will like it!’ A loud moan arises from the phone.

Sinnerman – Nina Simone “Now I want you to pinch and pull your nipples. Imagine me sucking them… Hard!” Another whimper is heard over the phone. Anastasia starts breathing hard. “I don’t want you touch yourself yet. Just pay attention to your nipples. There’s supposed to be massage oil in the top drawer next to the bed. Get it out, and pour some in your palm.” “Ah! O..okay” she stutters. I hear her heavy breathing on the phone which slowly calms down.

“Now, slide those hands from the tops of your breast, to the down curve. Keep going lower. Over your bellybutton, then onto the top of your pubic bone.” “I want you to do this to me when I’m hand cuffed and with a spreader bar,” she murmurs between panting. “Fffuck!” I hiss. “I most definitely will do that. You are a kinky girl, Anastasia Grey!” “Only…” pants, “because I’m married to a kinky boy!”

“Damn right you are!” “Aaah!” she groans. “Ana, I want you to lower your right hand between your folds. Tell me, are you wet yet?”

“Y..yes. Very,” she replies. “Good girl. Now, dip your index finger inside you,” I order. “I can’t do it, until I hear you pleasuring yourself,” she says. “Anaa!” “Please, Christian! We’ve never had phone sex. I’d like to know that I can do this for my man.” “You do! You always turn me on!” I say my voice is fervent. “Husband, get naked and get your cock in your hand, please,” she pleads. “Fuck it!” I say looking around then walk into the en suite bathroom divesting my clothes as I walk. As soon as I divest of my boxers, my erecting springs free, heavy and pulsing. Finding a glass enclosure shower pleases me. I walk in without turning the water on. It will come later.

“Are you naked yet?” she asks. “Yesss, damn it!” I answer and she giggles. “Oh, Mrs. Grey, it will not do. No giggling during sex." My voice takes a warning tone. “Tell me, how much you want me, husband.” “I want you so damn much, I’ll fuck you seven shades of Sunday as soon as I get my hands on you,” I growl. “How big is your erection?” she croons. “Enough to fuck you into next week, Mrs. Grey,” I answer as I stroke myself. “Now I want you to also dip your middle finger into sex. Swirl your fingers around in a sweeping motion pressing towards the front wall, like I would with my tongue. Pull your nipples with your other hand. I’m here baby! Hard, ready to fuck you. Just thinking of you sprawled in my bed, pleasuring yourself gets me going.”

“I want to suck that plush tip of your cock, lick it like the chocolate Popsicle, trace my tongue over the ridges and veins, then swallow it to the hilt. But, what I really want to do is to ride it hard, like it was never ridden before. Feel the throbbing veins, makes you primal, like a god! My mouth is watering already!” she whispers. “Baby, you have an oral fixation.” “When it comes to you Mr. Grey, I’m unabashed. I want you to fist my hair, drive into me with your base animalistic urges. I want to feel that you need me. Just me…” “Fuuucck! Ana!” I growl as the precum bubbles and fizzes, coating the head of my cock, spreading over the crescent formed at the base my thumb and the forefinger. “Touch your little nub, and rub it with your other thumb while you imagine sucking me!” I order. “Christian! I’m burning for you! If you don’t put me out, I’ll burst into flames. I’m imagining kneeling before you so nothing obstruct between my mouth and your erection! Oh!” she groans. “Christian, I’m so close!” My hand speeds up, feeling my wife’s lips on my cock. I lose my balance leaning onto the shower wall, and thick spurts of cum shoots long and hard.

Anastasia shouts her pleasure into the phone and finally murmurs on our ascent, “not enough without you, Christian! Nothing’s enough without you.” “I know baby, I’ll get home as soon as I can, and satisfy that hungry sex of yours.” Everything is Never Quite Enough – Wasis Diop Anyone who is in love is making love the whole time, even if they’re not. When two bodies meet, it is just the cup overflowing. They can stay together for hours, even days. They begin the dance one day and finish it the next, or – such is the pleasure they experience – they may never finish it.” Paulo Coelho ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

After taking a hot shower, I get back in my clothes. Then pick my cell phone up and dial again. “Hello?” a groggy voice answers the phone. “Barney!” my voice jolts him to attention. He clears his throat a couple of times. “Yes, uh, sir, I’m awake. Sorry,” he says. “Don’t apologize. Did you talk to Welch?” “Yes, I did, also to a Mr. Lee. I had given him how to take screen captures of the data without destroying what’s left.” “And?” “The first precaution I took is to reset the passwords on all SIP employees, and I had to reset your password as well. But it is much easier to hack into someone’s phone than a server like SIP, so for the time being, I have prohibited company email access from smart phones for Mrs. Grey, her assistant and access to her shared work calendar. That should do the primary damage control. Also, could

you ask Mrs. Grey if her phone was out of her sight at any time? Or anything unusual happened to the phones?” “Yes! I don’t know if her phone was ever out of her custody but they have had problems with the phone today. Lee said that the signals were blocked. So, everyone’s phones were drained of power except for Mrs. Grey’s assistant’s.” “Why not hers?” “Apparently it was hooked onto her laptop, charging.” “Hmm,” he murmurs thinking. “I need to see the phones. All of them. Meanwhile it would be best if you could do something for me. I’ll email you a code to install on the smart phones that would prevent any interference, like an internal firewall for the smart phones. That would even detect hardwired Trojan horses… well, theoretically.” “Really?” “Well, it’s a working theory of mine. I wrote the code myself, but I have tested it and so far it produced positive results, sir. If you have access to the phone, I can directly send it to you. You would need to hook the smart phones to a laptop or a desktop. It makes the workaround so much easier.” “Okay, send it. CC it to Taylor so he can work on the security’s phones.” “I’ll do that, sir. When can I have the phones, Mr. Grey? I’d like to examine them.” “We’ll be back to Seattle tomorrow. The following day should work.” “Yes, sir,” he says before I hang up. Taylor is waiting for me outside.

“The snow’s letting out, sir. We can leave if you wish.” I nod. “Care for something to drink before leaving?” Alex holds up his Carslberg’s Jacobsen Vintage. “Where did you get that? They only make 600 bottles annually,” I say surprised. “Had them shipped from Copenhagen of course. It has the hints of peaty tar and rope.” “Ahhh! I don’t know if that’s appealing,” I say doubtfully. “It sure is. The barley wine is matured in oak barrels for six months making it taste like vanilla and cocoa. The hint and tar and rope just the kick you need. Otherwise I wouldn’t pay $400 bucks a bottle. So would you like to try one?” he asks, waving a new bottle. “As appealing as it is, I have a pregnant wife at home, waiting for me.” He nods with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes as if the remark hit a sore spot. I open my mouth to ask him what happened to his family, but deciding it’s too personal, I close my mouth and don’t word the question that’s been crossing my mind for a long time. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to Ana. I nearly went crazy when I thought she was leaving me. Just when I thought life couldn’t get any worse… I shake away the memories of her lifeless form on the road.

Even though the curiosity is egging me, I don’t ask. This time his smile is full as if he reads my mind. “It was fire, and a long time ago,” he says. I can’t even mouth the word ‘sorry’ with the shock. “I know,” he says with a sad smile. “Go to your wife, my friend. Nothing with a price tag would make up for what is priceless like one’s family.” “Thank you for letting us crash here during the storm. Your favors are stacking up against me.” “Well, someday I may call in. Currently, I’m only doing what I wish someone had done for me. You may call it... vicarious living,” he says shrugging. “If I don’t see you before you leave, have a safe trip back to Seattle.” He extends his hand, and I grasp his forearm in his usual manner like a Roman general. “Thank you,” I voice my rare gratitude and he knows it. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

By the time Taylor and I get to my apartment, it’s almost 4:00 a.m. Anastasia is sleeping curled under the covers. She had the fireplace turned on. The light from the fireplace flickers and dances on her face making her glow like an angel. Her hand is holding onto the pillow on my side of the bed as she always does when I’m not here. Right now, all I want to do is to get into bed with my pregnant wife and hold onto the most important person in the world for me.

I take my clothes off, pile them neatly on the chair and enter into our bed pulling Anastasia into my embrace, her back to my naked front. She instinctively snuggles into my warmth. I fall into a deep, relieved sleep with the knowledge that she is safe and warm in my arms. The sunlight seeps through the window as if the storm of the night didn’t go on all night long. Anastasia groans and she moves her tangled leg above mine automatically. She never liked getting too warm while sleeping. I look at the clock on the side table. It flashes 7:38 a.m. Even though I’m always an early riser, I don’t want to leave Anastasia’s side this morning. She shifts and turns her body towards me. Her movement rides her t-shirt up, exposing her protruding belly and half-moon swells of her breasts. My cock which has already been at halfmast leaps into attention. It pokes Anastasia’s lower back and her blue eyes slowly open up. “Hey, you,” she smiles. Her voice is a little throaty with the morning ruse but also rusty with her awakening senses. Her blue eyes sparkle, blood rushes to her cheeks, fully flushing them. “You are a sight for sore eyes," she whispers. “I’d like to be more than just for your sore eyes, wife,” I respond. The unbelievable tension coils inside me with an urge to make love, burning for her. “About that promise you made…” she starts. “If this is a preamble for it…”

“Oh, baby, you’ve seen nothing yet.” “Christian, last night only left me wanting more.” “And how would you like it delivered this morning?” I ask her. “Make me feel alive and desired." Her voice is deep, velvety, profligate. “Get on all fours then Mrs. Grey,” I order. She obeys immediately. “I will have to preen and open you up baby, you’re too tight, and I’m too big. I don’t want to hurt you.” “Christian, I want to feel alive! I’m not made of glass you know!” she protests. I smack her ass right at the apex of her thighs. My fingers carry the evidence of her arousal.

“Again!” she asks surprising me. “You want to be spanked?” I ask. “Please,” she begs. “Sure?” I say with barely concealed excitement. “Yes, please! Don’t make me beg!”

“We’ll go with twelve then,” I say. “If it’s too much, let me know and I’ll stop and just fuck you.” "Yes! Just do it already!" she complains. “Yes, ma'am! Your ass is the most beautiful sight, baby,” I say stroking it gently, spreading warmth. Then my hand leaves the connection and lands on her right buttock cheek leaving a red handprint. I stroke again then land another slap on her left buttock. Next I hit over her folds of her sex and right above her clit eliciting a deep moan. She arches her back.

“Still, baby,” I coax her as I rub over her sex then land another slap on her buttocks. A pattern emerges. Slap. Rub. Slap. Rub. Slap. Rub. After the 12th slap I enter into her tender sex in one swift move. Warm, wet, tight and soft. I hold there for a few seconds with my eyes closed, completely lost in our ecstatic connection. She pushes against me, urging me to move with her body. I withdraw and spear into her, first slowly, then picking up my rhythm. Anastasia moves with me, pushing against me, countering my movements. “Ana! Stop! This will be over way too soon!” But she won’t stop. My heavy balls smack against her now swollen clit repeatedly. Even the sound of it renews my arousal, an intimate connection, sound of our rhythm. The rim of the crown of my erection scrape and kiss her tender spot buried deep inside her, bringing my wife to the brink of orgasm.

“Hold!” I hiss through my gritted teeth and change my angle. As I spread her legs wider, I pound deeper into her, caressing her pleasure point and thrusting into the embrace of her tight sex to get lost in a mind-blowing pleasure. Anastasia arches her head back, her hair cascading in waterfalls. Her body tenses, taut under the assaults of my relentless storm of my drives. Anastasia’s hands clasp the sheet hard, her body trembles, and the inner muscles of her sex envelopes my cock harder, eliciting my orgasm as I feel the first wave of her hitting my wife’s body. My body jerks, a deep animalistic shout comes, my cock tenses as my ejaculations release a wrenching orgasm. Sweat covers and attempts to cool my heated body. When the last jolt stops, I circle my arms around her and lower our bodies onto the bed. “That was… wow! Words fail me,” Anastasia murmurs. “Yes, exactly,” I say holding her tighter. “Your mom called last night,” she says. “You have to tell me this now, when my cock is still buried inside you?” She giggles. “Caught your pants down, Mr. Grey?” “Virtually and literally,” I say as I pull out with the sound of suction, the evidence of our rough sex leaking out at the wake of my cock. “Wait here, baby” I say, and walk to the bathroom. I bring pieces of tissues to clean her up. I gently wipe her sex and her legs. “The irony isn’t lost on me, Mr. Grey,” she says. “How so?” I ask. “You can give me what I want, as rough or as gentle. But then, there’s this side of you that’s incredibly gentle and loving. One of the many things I love about you.”

“High praise coming from you, Mrs. Grey? I am but a lowly mortal,” I say with a grin. “There’s nothing lowly about you Mr. Grey. I’m hungry, let’s go eat,” she says. I hold my hand out to her. “What am I going to do with you, wife?” “I’m you’ll think of something delicious.” “Shower with me, first? Or can’t my son wait until his mother takes a shower?” “I think we can hold him off for a little while.” “What did my mom want?” I ask out of curiosity. “They’re throwing me a baby shower this week. That’s what she wanted to talk about. At your parents’ home. She asked me to register at a store so that people can get me what I would need.” “You don’t need to do that. I can afford all you and our child needs.” “Oh, Christian. That’s really not the point…” she says rolling her eyes. “Come on husband. Let’s take our shower. What time are we leaving for home?” “Anytime we want, but I was thinking late in the evening. That way we enjoy our last day, wait for the streets to be cleared up and still be back home by dinner. I’m sure Mrs. Taylor would be happy to see Jason.” “Of course,” Anastasia responds. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

“Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome aboard. This is your captain speaking. It looks like we are going to be delayed about thirty minutes due to the weather conditions. We are in line for deicing of the jet. The air traffic for take offs is slower due to snow. Please enjoy your refreshments. My co-pilot Baighley

and I wish you all an enjoyable flight,” Stephan’s voice echoes out of the speakers. “It’s odd,” Anastasia says looking at her Blackberry. “What’s the matter?” I ask. “I can’t access my SIP email account. It’s blocking me.” “Oh, that. It’s a precaution.” “What?” she asks confused. “All the company e-mails had to be reset.” “When?” she asks furrowing her brows. “Yesterday, or rather last night,” I respond. “Pfff… Christian, why are they resetting my email account?” putting her fist onto her waist. “Because someone hacked into your email account and your Outlook Calendar. We couldn’t take the chance.” I shrug unapologetically. “I would argue with you, but I’m still too tired,” she says with a smile. “Thank you” she adds. This surprises me. “What for?” I ask. “You really know how to show a girl a good time.” “Just to my girl. Just to mine. Because I love you Mrs. Grey,” I answer as I lift and kiss her hand. I Want Love - Elton John

CHAPTER XXVII TO CATCH A PREDATOR “Beyond the clouds, above people, beneath the skin, inside people, we’re waiting for

you. We see you now, as you read. We’ll see you when you stop thinking about these words. Above and inside your face, we know your secrets. We know what you hide

from yourself. You can’t escape us. We hold your heart in the palm of our hand. If we like, we can squeeze it. If we like, we can crush it. There’s nothing you can do to stop us. Our gaze notices your every single move and your every single word. Say a word

now. Make a move. We smile at your words, as we smile at your silence. No one will be able to protect you. No one can protect you now. You’re even less than you imagine. We’ve seen a thousand generations of men like you. It was our pleasure to let them walk on the lines of our hands. It was our pleasure to take everything away from them. We guided entire generations of men through tunnels we built that led

nowhere. And when they arrived at nothing, we smiled. You’re just like them. We’re waiting for you above and inside your face. Continue on your way. Follow that line of our hand. We know where that tunnel you walk through will end. Keep on

walking. We see you and smile. Beyond the clouds, we are fear. Beneath the skin, we are fear.”

José Luís Peixoto, Antídoto

The man in a dark hood steps out from his hiding place behind the alcove of the conference room. He blends in the crowd of writer and readers who are eager to get their manuscripts to the publishers or get an introduction. Tables are arranged so that after the lectures, people can meet and greet or get a signed copy of their favorite author’s book. Anastasia, her assistant Hannah and their current star writer Boyd are sitting behind one of the tables. He gets in the queue with the rest of the participants. No fidgeting, not giving away his intentions, cool, calm, collected, intent on reaching Ana. Sawyer’s eyes glances over him as he does the rest of the people surrounding Ana’s table. Where’s Melissa? I locate her in the outer perimeter, her eyes scanning the approaching crowd. I am momentarily distracted with the publisher representative who comes to Ana’s desk and leans into her personal space. He extends his hand to her with a barely concealed lascivious smile. “Miss Ana Grey, I presume. I’m George Cooper,” he says extending his hand. When she automatically extends hers, he takes it in both of his and lifts it to his lips. Ana blushes and tries to pull her hand away when he holds it just a little longer. “How fortuitous of us to meet here in this conference. Our publishing firm has wanted to collaborate with SIP for some time since your publisher has a knack for choosing popular up and coming new writers. We,” he says indicating two different desks, “are planning to go out for a celebratory dinner after the conference and further get to know our respective publishing houses and discuss how we can collaborate in future projects. You would honor us if you could join,” he says. “Ah, I’m not sure.” “Oh, come on Miss Grey,” he says emphasizing on the Miss which boils my blood; I could kick the shit out of him. Why isn’t her security detail keeping this asshole away? “This is a golden opportunity for many of our companies. After all, it’s for networking which is essential for our business as is the case for many businesses.” Anastasia turns to her assistant who cheerfully nods. Of course she would! She’s been eyeing the man since the moment he stepped into her orbit.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Cooper. Let me arrange my evening schedule,” Ana responds. I’m the evening schedule whom she needs to arrange her fucking work with!

“Call me George, please. Our publishing company would like to do business with you in the long term, and I have a feeling we’d be in touch a lot,” he says grinning like an alligator. Anastasia instinctively scoots her chair closer to her assistant and away from Cooper. Where the hell is the fucking security? I gave them a specific three feet radius, yet here’s this guy who is just mere inches away from my wife! “Excuse me, sir,” says a polite voice, but clearly asking, no, ordering him to move out of the way. My first thought is Sawyer is finally doing his job. Cooper looks up the man in the hoodie. The man is clasping a manuscript like package in one of his hands. The other hand is behind the papers. Anastasia’s face looks a little relieved with the distraction. She looks around the crowd to locate one of her security details and neither one seems to be around. She turns around and looks at Hannah who shrugs her shoulder. “Yes, can I help you?” Ana asks the man in the hoodie. “Looking forward to you joining us for dinner tonight Ana!” says Cooper before he gives the hoodie a dirty look.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says politely. His face is in the dark. The crowd is large. He speaks up to be heard. “My manuscript…” he starts, “I’d like you to take a look." “Ah, I’m sorry, Mr.” Anastasia says waiting for him to say his name. “It’s Joe,” he says. “Yes, Joe, normally writers have to submit their manuscripts through our pre-defined process. But, if you have registered to the convention as a writer, we can accept your manuscript. You can leave it with my assistant along with your contact information.” “I want you to take it,” he says. It’s not a request. “Give it to my assistant!” Ana says standing up, this time confronting him. She shifts her foot and holds her back to support herself. I can only glance at the smirk on his lips; the face is still dark. “I think not. On second thought, why don’t you pass this to your husband, instead with my regards?” he says leaning into her ear and places a knife on her belly and stabs Ana! No sound comes, just a tiny noise like a suppressed cough. He doesn’t wait around to see Anastasia’s shocked face. Her hand goes to her belly where the crimson blood starts staining her dress running down with the odd handle of the knife protruding from her belly. She holds her hand up to her face to see if she’s really bleeding. She’s in shock! She wobbles; her bloody hand holds onto her assistant Hannah who screams when she comes face to face with my wife's dripping blood. Ana falls, and I scream! “Anaaaaaa!” And suddenly the lights are out; everything goes dark in the conference hall. I run, but hit the wall of people blocking me. “Noooo! Noooo! Noooo! Anaaaaa! God, no!”

“A soulmate’s purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master.” Elizabeth Gilbert – Eat, Pray, Love

Thump! Breath is sucked out of me as if someone hit me with a baseball bat.

My eyes spring open and I blink madly, the darkness is pitch black. My eyes burn and I struggle between desperate need to find my wife and kill her assailant. But my vision has not adjusted yet to the loss of light. The cacophony of noises that were present a minute ago is completely gone. Just the gentle, constant humming of an engine. I’m immediately in an offensive crouch. “Hey, Christian, Christian!” a gentle voice whispers. “I’m here, I’m here!” she’s trying to reassure me. I blink several times to get a glimpse that this really is her. I suck air into my lungs to get rid of the smothering fear and grief that has presently washed over me. My breathing is harsh, rapid, and raspy. The hitching in my voice escapes an involuntary sob. I viciously wipe my face to dry the tears. “Shhhh! It’s okay,” she murmurs, her voice closer this time. My eyes finally adjust and I see her hand tentatively reaching out to me. Her presence inundates me with relief. Relief! God! I can’t speak for a moment. “I, uhm,” I whisper clearing my throat, “I thought I lost you. Someone was there at the conference. Trying to get close to you,” I recall with agony. “He… he stabbed you! Stabbed you!” I growl. “You just had a nightmare, Christian. You’re here… I’m here, I’m well. We both are. We’re flying going home, remember?” her voice takes a soothing cadence. I can’t even swallow past my scorching throat. “Come to bed, Christian,” she says, her voice caressing, comforting. She extends her hand from the bed towards me without hesitation, encouraging me to take it, whereas I'm crouched at the corner of the small suite in my jet. I realize that my breathing is still harsh, but her voice takes the overwhelming grief away. I push to a standing position. My sight is adjusted to the darkness; I lock my gaze as if she’s going to disappear and then take her hand as if a lifeline has been extended to me, like the first breath of fresh air you greedily inhale when you're hiking. The second our fingers connect, I feel the electricity. The powerful jolt that says she’s alive, she’s here, with me. “Oh, Ana!” I hold her tight. Inhaling her scent, I crush her to my chest. I shift her and cradle her in my arms. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not right now,” I whisper. It’s been a few weeks since I spoke to Dr. Flynn. I’m on the edge with the events of yesterday. I need to feel Anastasia’s presence; I need to know she’s alive, that the baby is alive. I automatically place my hand on her belly. Theodore….Teddy kicks my hand as if to reassure me he’s alive. “You could have woken the dead up,” Anastasia says trying to make the light of my nightmare. “I’m surprised that Taylor didn’t break the door to enter into our suite.” “Oh, Ana!” I stifle a sob, rocking her back and forth. She wraps her arms around my neck. Her hands run through my hair, rubbing, soothing, and tangling. She then nuzzles into the crook of my neck, inhaling my scent as if she’s starved for it. Her lips brush my day old stubble. Then she kisses the corner of my lips, lighting the fuse. I give out a deep lascivious groan.

“Anaaa!” I hiss before I seal my lips over hers. There’s first the whisper of a kiss, tentative, testing, feeling, drinking her in small sips. I lick the seam of her lips which she opens with a moan. Then without a preamble, I lower her to our bed, my legs are automatically tangled between hers, my arms hold her firmly, my lips bruise hers in unrestrained possession. “God!” I murmur into her lips and the rest of the thought I can’t speak of drowns under the weight of my relief,

‘I almost thought I lost you! Again!’ The overwhelming desire unfurls within me; I want to shock our system to make both of us aware that we’re here within each other’s arms. “Christian!” she murmurs. Her soft voice reverberates through my system. Her hands are fisting into my hair, her hips grinding. “You make me feel alive!” I murmur as I push her nightgown up her belly. “I love you Christian!” she murmurs back. Her body shakes with anticipated pleasure. The hum of the jet’s engine is dulled and all I’m focused is my wife and the fact that we’re alive, here, in each other’s arms. I feel the intensity of our desires for one another. My hands move purposefully above the peak of her belly. My fingers track the line within the valley of her breast. She inhales a sharp breath. I lift her up momentarily and remove the nightgown off her. “I want to see all of you…beneath me!” Her body shakes with thrill and she closes her eyes. “I want your eyes open!” I order. “When I enter you, I want to see your response." Her heavy lids open. My gaze bores into her as I thrust into my wife in one swift move. “Heaven!” I arch my back and hold my position. We are one body, one soul. This is where I feel at home; inside my wife. I close my eyes momentarily to absorb the feeling. When I open my eyes back up again, they’re darkened with desire for her. There is life, desire, energy, power in our connection. I start moving. An unexpected voice booms from the overhead speakers. “Good morning passengers. We are approaching Seattle airspace and as soon as the tower clears us for landing, we should be on the ground within the next 15 minutes. The local time in Seattle is 4:46 a.m.” Stephen’s cheerful voice echoes. “Please fasten your seat-belts.”

“Christian! Hurry!” Ana urges me. I smirk and quicken my pace, planting one deep thrust after another into her. The airplane starts descending and momentarily Anastasia’s body levitates with the negative gravity. The excitement yields to more adrenaline and I speed my pace even further. My left hand moves over her breast kneading each nipple reflecting my movements inside her. As she climaxes, I capture her mouth and kiss her, swallowing her pleasure. Her body shudders and her sex clenches in waves. “Ah! Fuuccckkk! Ana!” I race to my peak as her sex elicits pleasure from my cock with a firm grasp, milking me and finally shoot my release in thick spurts into her marking each other’s ownership of one another. When my eyes are able to focus again, I see the fond admiration as well as concern in my wife’s eyes. She would normally probe to find out, but we’ve just landed and I need to take her home so she can sleep. I pull out and to change the topic I ask: “Are you happy to be back to Seattle?” “Yes. I miss home even though it’s new. I’m looking forward to completing Teddy’s room. New York was wonderful, but east or west, home is best,” she says with a smile. “Alright, Mrs. Grey, let’s get home,” I say extending my hand. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing Mr. Grey. But, I’m quite tired and I’d like you to take me home, however this conversation is not over,” she says. “No?” I ask raising my eyebrows. “Of course not. I know you don’t want to talk about it,” she says biting her lip, “but, talk to Flynn at least. You haven’t seen him in a while. And part of me is desperate to find out what got you so upset that you had that nightmare, but I also prefer you to want to tell me. I don't want to be the nagging wife. So tell me when you’re ready.” I open my mouth to say not to worry and that stress might have caused but close it back wisely. She’s too smart for that and it will cause her to probe

further. I can’t give her the complete devastating imagery of my nightmare where someone stabs her belly to harm her and our child. I had already said too much. That’s not the right kind of fear to induce into any pregnant woman let alone the woman I love with all my life and I want to protect the most. My face goes placid and shut the fears and worries out. “Let’s get you dressed baby, I’ll take you home so you can rest, I wore you out,” I give her a lascivious grin. “You won’t see me complaining,” she smiles back. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

After Ryan drives us home, I put Anastasia to bed, and call Taylor to my office. “When is Barney coming to pick the hard drive up?” I ask him. “I’ve called him as soon as we got home sir. He should be here within the hour. He’s going to take it to the Grey House. I have instructed Ryan to escort him all the way to the in-house lab so no one with a malicious intent follows him. We’re taking all the necessary precautions to protect the asset. Welch is coming back to Seattle by about 11 a.m. this morning. If Barney can uncover anything, we may have some leads or at least piece something together with what Welch has found out.” This is one of the reasons why I have Taylor working for me and he’s the head of the security. He knows what needs to be done without having the need to give him a list of one hundred instructions.

“Have him see me when he gets here, I’ll be in my office,” I say. When I turn my back to leave, Taylor calls me. “Sir, I recommend an evaluation of all the SIP employees. Although, we have files on each one of the employees after the Hyde incident,” he says, I wouldn’t quite put it that way, since the said incident nearly killed my wife and destroyed me, “this incident stemming from SIP makes me think that there may be another Hyde wanna-be or someone with a possible tie to him. This is only a hypothesis, but one I find worth exploring.” “I agree,” I say, because he just voiced my concerns. “Have Welch examine all those who work closely with Anastasia down to their kindergarten teacher until the person he or she fucked last night.” “That might take a while, but we will,” he responds. “I want him to get to it. We have to have a starting point, and SIP seems to be the place. I don’t want fuckups like the last time. Even if there’s a bathroom break, the other security takes his or her place so her door is never unmanned. Incidentally, my mother and sister are giving Mrs. Grey a baby shower this evening. You should have gotten the list of invitees and if they have any escorts, then check them all out, get protection for the event no matter how small. But make them inconspicuous to the untrained eye.” “Dr. Grey has already e-mailed me the list per our protocol which is quite small and known names already sir. The security for the event has already been arranged.” Ryan comes and knocks my door. “My Grey, Mr. Sullivan is here to see you,” he says. Taylor checks his watch. He’s early, but the sooner he starts, the sooner we get the results. “Bring him in,” I order. Ryan leaves to fetch Barney. “Would you like me to stay sir?” asks Taylor. “Yes, you need to coordinate between Barney and Welch,” I respond. A few minutes later, there’s another knock at my door. Barney comes in. His usual oversized glasses are exchanged with something that frames his face

proportionately and makes him look like a young college student rather than the head of my IT department. He’s wearing an off black t-shirt with ‘Grateful Dead’ emblazoned in the front. He must have slept in it because he looks like he's still groggy. He's wearing his jeans with suspenders and his military boots are barely tied with the pants’ cuffs tucked into them. “Good morning, sir,” he says. “I got here as soon as I can,” he adds, and absently tucks a loose corner of his t-shirt into his jeans. “Barney, we have the hard drive here,” I say pointing to the box on the table. “However, the attempts of destroying the contents of the hard drive by perpetrator were halted by Lee in New York who had enough expertise in IT, but I doubt he’s nowhere near your skills and I don’t know the extent of the damage to the drive. So, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you to use extreme caution to retrieve all possible information remaining here. How soon can you start giving me results?” “I have to first be able to access it sir. I don’t want to give you a time frame and not meet it. Let me first take it to the lab and see what we are dealing with, whether it was used to as a Trojan horse, whether the info that was left within was there to meet that purpose. If it was captured that easily, there may be a purpose to do further damage. So, I will have to isolate it. In order to achieve the speed of delivery, I don’t want to cause bigger damages which may very well be the intent.” I run my hand through my hair in frustration. As I stand abruptly, my chair squeaks in protest. “I can’t give you a lot of time. Get your assistant to help you if you must, but we’re running out of time.” “Mr. Grey, as talented as my assistant is, I would like to examine it myself. I want to see if the perpetrator overwrote the entire hard drive, or just the LUKS header. If he’s triggered the ‘secure erase’ program, than I may not be able to do anything because it fills the hard drive with zeroes or random crap…” he clears his voice, “I mean, gibberish. But, since Mr. Lee was able to retrieve some information, that possibility is unlikely. The perp had little time to achieve the self-destruct code. So, what I can find out really depends on what kind of code he

used. That’s why I can’t tell you right away how long it would take me to discover it.” “Okay, here’s the deal. You have today to find out,” I look at my watch. “If Lee with less knowledge in hardware and software than you could find out, I expect you to manage better,” I berate him. “Mr. Grey, Lee, nearly destroyed rest of the data, because it’s like a piece of paper which starts burning when you start reading. I have to take measures to prevent that first as soon as I decipher what exactly was used. Once I figure that out, I will be able to determine how long it might take me to decipher it. But, if anyone can decipher it, it would be me,” he says shrugging. He’s not exaggerating; merely stating a fact. “Barney, I want you to put forth everything you got into this,” I say walking towards him and stand face to face. “I want you to focus on this like you’ve never focused on anything else. I want this fucker found! I can’t emphasize enough how much I want this to be resolved. If you even have an inclination that you’re not the right man for the job, immediately find someone who can crack that code and stop the self-destruct code.” “Mr. Grey,” he says solemnly, pushing his glasses closer to his eyes. “I will do my best to solve it, sir.” “Not good enough. I want your word that you will crack it!” My gaze is unwavering, unblinking, and my voice is demanding. “You said, crack,” he says as if a particularly bright light bulb going on his head. He hits his forehead with the palm of his right hand. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that before? Thank you Mr. Grey! You’re a genius!” he says grasping my right hand and so uncharacteristically of him, his left hand pats my right arm in a friendly gesture. “Is this the box?” he says seeing the secured box containing the hard drive. “Yes,” I say surprised with his uncharacteristic behavior.

“I’ll get to it right away sir. ‘Crack!” he murmurs to himself shaking his head. “Of course! I’ll get back to you within the allocated time this afternoon, sir. If there’s any information, I will do my best to recover it,” he adds. Taking the box, he turns to walk out. He reaches out to my office door, grasps it and opens it. Finally able to collect myself, “Barney!” I call after him. He turns around. “Yes, Mr. Grey?” he asks already his mind is engaged with software codes. “What the hell just happened? You look like you had a religious epiphany and now you’re walking out without any explanation.” “You said, ‘crack’ the code,” he gives my words back. “Of course that’s what it is Mr. Grey!” “You’ve lost me, dumb it down to non-geeky English,” I hiss exasperated. I see the corner of Taylor’s lip slightly twitch up before it goes back to being impassive. “Hacking, Mr. Grey! Hacking! I’ll hack into it!” “What the hell are you trying to say Barney? Your plain English is even more technical!” “Mr. Grey, hackers don’t enter the system, your virtual building through the front door. You exploit the system’s weakness and there are always weaknesses. I have to do a lot of penetration tests,” he says with a straight face. I see Taylor turn his head towards the wall to conceal his smile, “then a lot of vulnerability assessment. That’s what the white hat hackers do, you know, within a contractual agreement,” then sighs; Taylor’s back is totally turned to us. Barney is oblivious to the double meaning of his words. “I’m an elite hacker,” he says clearing his throat shaking his head. “I have to be in order to keep GEH’s security top notch. I am skilled at deciphering the newly discovered exploits. It will take me probably to the end of the day to find out what I’m dealing with, and I have to write codes to find a backdoor to enter into the system without waking the system up. So, what has been initiated is not completed, but that

might take a lot of time. That’s what I have to determine. There may be nothing left, or there may be only very little to begin with. We don’t know it yet.” “Let me know how long it will take you gain access this afternoon. You have by five p.m.” “Yes, sir,” he says and this time, Taylor walks him out with full composure. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ ***** “Christian! This is just Ana’s baby shower! No need to have all these extra…” says Mia. “Mia!” I chide her, “this doesn’t concern you,” I say firmly. “Yeah, honestly Christian!” chimes in Kate. “I feel like I’m visiting a small country’s presidential palace. Your parents already have Rambo 1, 2, 3 and 4 working for them” she adds indicating their security detail. I turn to my brother giving him a shut-the-fuck-your-fiancée-up look. Ana sighs. “Hello, little lady,” my brother greets Ana, giving her a hug. “Don’t squeeze too tight, we want that baby remain there for a little while longer, at least until after your wedding,” I say. “He’s safely tucked in, don’t worry,” Ana says holding her belly protectively. “Hi Ana! How are you sweetheart?” asks my mom giving her a hug. “I’m quite well. I’ve been getting more and more tired lately, I feel like I’m sleepy all the time, hungrier and thirstier, but I guess that’s expected.” “Yes, dear, the baby grows rapidly at this stage. You’ll find yourself needing rest often. Take it. You’ll be busy enough when the baby is here. You won’t get any sleep then,” my mother says and as if she’s said something without thinking, she looks at me for my reaction. She’s worried that I’d be upset, but my face is placid.

“Oh, mom! Christian can afford the best nanny or five! Ana can still rest after the baby,” Mia says hitting my arm. “Mia!” my mom chides. “We’ve not discussed that yet, Mia. We’ll let you know,” I say exasperated. I look at Ana and she restrains herself from rolling her eyes, but just smiles. I shake my head. “Hey, bro! If I knew you were participating in the baby shower, I’d buy the daddy to be a gift as well,” Elliot says with a big grin. “A manly diaper bag with your company logo perhaps, something that would look great with your Spyder. Oh wait, you might need a minivan!” I inwardly cringe. “Fuck off, Elliot!” I say jokingly. “Lucky for my kid, I can afford the best,” I smirk. “That you can, bro!” he responds making me laugh. “But, I’ll remember to return the favor when you knock your fiancée up. I’ll make sure I’ll get you the best minivan money can buy for your baby shower,” I say with a pleasant smile. Elliot looks like he just swallowed a nasty bug while Ana rolls her eyes. “Christian, are we going to stand here by the door? Come on! Grandma T will be here in half an hour. If you want to wait that long, you can say hi to her,” Mia pulls my arm. They look at me expectantly. I check my watch. I have to meet Barney, but I decide that he can wait after Anastasia’s hopeful eyes. I practically have to pry my wife out of my mom’s grasp who is holding her as if she’s a fragile piece of China gracing her home. “Excuse me, mom. May I borrow my wife for a minute? She’ll meet you inside,” I say. “Are you coming in?” “I’ll come inside to say goodbye in any case,” I respond without giving an answer to her question.

After the women and my brother walk into the living room, Anastasia looks up at me quizzically. “What’s wrong?” she asks worried. “Nothing. I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to stay since this may be just an all-girls affair, but it’s our first baby, I saw the conflict in your face a minute ago. Did you want me to stay for the shower?” I ask but knowing that I have to speak to Barney, I'm a little on the edge. The sooner I find out about the perp the better for me, for all of us. But this is the first child, first baby shower and it means something to Anastasia though I don’t know what that is. I told her I could buy everything. I think it may be the some sort of sisterly communion, or sharing the experience with one another. But I can’t clearly read the conflict on Ana’s face. Does she want me to stay, participate in this affair? Or does she want to have it just among the group of women invited here? I’m not particularly thrilled to be around some women I’ve never met, but I’m also wondering if they threw in something unexpected like throwing in a couple of Chip and Dale dancers. Knowing my sister and Katherine had a hand in the arrangement as well this would not be an unexpected possibility. “Christian, you said you have an important meeting with Barney. Since you summoned him this morning when I was sleeping,” she says. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. I had not told her that, she smiles at me and continues. “Deductive reasoning. You never leave an important task incomplete. Since you are going to see him this evening, you had to have him over to the house.” “How…” “Do I know?” she says completing my sentence with a smile and a shrug. “I’m getting the measure of my husband. You know and anticipate what I might do, well, back at you Grey,” she says grinning this time. I’d stay with her here for this shower, even though I would dread whatever girly crafts they might have planned for this. If her bridal shower and “Pin the Penis on Alexander Skarsgård" is any indication, they might have shit like that planned today and I wouldn’t be caught dead pinning a paper penis on a poster. Ana correctly reads my face.

“I don’t know whatever you were thinking, but that look is not a face of pleasure,” she says quizzically. “What were you just thinking?” “The ‘Pin the Penis’ game you played. I just had a horrible visual image of it,” I say shuddering. She gives me a hearty laugh and climbing on her tiptoes, she holds the tops of my shoulders and places a chaste kiss on my lips. “It was rather pleasant,” she whispers by my ear. A low growl escapes my lips. “Are you trying to goad me Mrs. Grey? No other penis shall be within your grasp,” I murmur. “Not even a paper one? However shall I practice Mr. Grey?” she asks batting her eyelashes. “I was under the impression that I provide you with more than enough practice, Mrs. Grey. Should you desire some more, I can provide you with additional experience, baby,” I say challenging her. My eyes drifting in the direction of the stairs towards my former bedroom. A shiver runs through her. “Thank you Mr. Grey. As much as I’d love to take you up on your offer, this shower is in my honor. My absence will be noticed. So, perhaps tonight?” “And the shower affects me how, Mrs. Grey?” Taylor clearing his throat makes me look up. I wrap my wife into a half embrace without letting her go. “Excuse me Mr. Grey,” he says after he tucks in his cell phone into his pocket. I look at him questioning with a quizzical eyebrow raised. His glance tells me that Barney is ready with some sort of an answer. “Come and say goodbye to your family,” Ana says, holding my hand and tugging me in the direction of the family room. Taylor leans in again, clearing his throat. “He wants the Blackberries as well.” ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near,

we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near. Hold out baits to entice the enemy. Feign disorder, and crush him.

- Sun Tzu, the Art of War This is his third time calling without his call getting answered. He should have responded by now. If everything occurred as his man had planned he should have been getting a confirmation which did not arrive. What had arrived however was the full and detailed schedule of one Mrs. Anastasia Grey for the entire month of January in fact all the way through June with important dates marked, pre penciled in appointments, phone numbers and addresses. This was gold. Two important dates that blocked out certain calendar days of the year easily popped out of the schedule. “Well, well, well! Little brother is getting married on May 5th and Grey’s litter is due on May 11th!” he says, gears are already turning in his head. This gives him about a little over four months to fully prepare his plans. Not a single move can be without sync. Everything has to be with exact precision for him to carry out his plans to do the most damage to Grey. He would show Grey how to pull his own family company right out under him! Elena was one thing. Only Elena’s portion of the due had been paid in full. Grey still owed him for deception, not for fucking his wife. Fucking could be forgiven, but the fact that it was done without his knowledge meant that he lost control of his domain then and that was one of the unforgivable transgressions in his book; you know the kind that could get you locked in the seventh circle of Lincoln hell or the eternal

purgatory. He preferred purgatory where the punishment is delivered with the same painful dose indefinitely. A low sound of Godfather Theme song brought him back to his senses. The Godfather Theme Song “Where the hell have you been?” he thunders into his smart phone. “Setting up the fucking breadcrumbs,” his man responds. “Come again? The last report you sent me said that it was fish or cut the bait time. That doesn’t mean that you were setting up breadcrumbs for that fucktard to take. I need your full report! It’s been a day and a half! I didn’t invest in your so called skills,” he scold him “to be merely fish or bait.” “I had not expected him to have a wild card because his security detail is generally consisted of the same men.” “What? You didn’t think the richest man in Seattle goes to New York and might, just fucking might get additional security details who are more familiar with the city of New York?” he hisses derisively. “I said I didn’t expect it, because the man has trust issues. He only trusts the ones under his employment and even that is to an extent. But that doesn’t mean I was not prepared.” What a fucking idiot? “It just merely means that an unexpected person in his payroll took the bait.” “What does that mean?” Lincoln asks running out of patience. “No matter who took the bait, it went to its intended destination.” “What exactly is that bait?” “My iPad.” “Are you out of your fucking mind?” he hisses menacingly. “Relax! The pertinent information has been destroyed, only what I want him to see!”

“Relax? You’re telling me to relax?” he growls. ‘Does he know the meaning of the word relax?’ I had not relaxed since the fucker got my company out under me!’ he thinks to himself. “It is your head on the chopping block if anything goes wrong. Do you get me sweetheart?” “Yes, I had set up a destroy command which will erase and render the hard drive useless. Consider what I do and had been doing for a living. These are simple government protocols for soft and hard data. It has been effectively used in the past by the spies! There is no reason why it shouldn’t or wouldn’t work now with Grey who doesn’t deal with this sort of shit day to day!” “You are a fucking idiot if you think that! I have made the mistake of underestimating him once. Just once!” And it cost me dearly, he thinks to himself, but he doesn’t need to divulge that bit of information. “I will not repeat the same mistake again. Now explain to me in clear terms what it is that you left for Grey as breadcrumbs.” “Misinformation,” his man responds. “Did you make sure that your ‘misinformation’ does not point back at me in any shape or form?” Lincoln asks. “If he has capable hands to decipher anything, all he can decipher is the New York link. Nothing that could tie in with Seattle.” “How did you discover the doctor?” “When you open the purse’s strings, you can’t believe how many memories can be refreshed, names, places, incidents, meetings remembered especially when you’re willing to forget those who remembered and compensated the memories amply. Of course a little enticement, an added incentive helps them jog their memories even faster. A bargaining chip.” There was absolutely no door that wouldn’t open with money, coercion, ruthlessness and a little bargaining chip like a well-loved but troubled little sister. That fear would even supersede the concern for the boyfriend who is a future senator. It was so easy, especially when the enemy is anonymous and the ruin they feared would come was only a couple of clicks away. In politics a rumor could easily squash the ‘would be bright careers’. So, they wouldn’t mind trading someone else’s future or life in order to save theirs. Self-preservation and survival instinct

always wins out. When people feel threatened, they always go down to their primary instinct, the base mechanism which in return shuts down higher cognitive functions like attention, reward and value, motivation, decision making and abandons the learned concepts such as education, civility, manners, shame and thus making one a pure base animal and that’s what kills the man in the end: self. “You didn’t answer my question!” demands Lincoln. “No, sir. But I’m sure you would appreciate it if I don’t divulge all my trade secrets. Suffice to say that you will get your money’s worth.” “That’s not enough. Because I have a ‘go date’ for you,” Lincoln says. “Let me guess, between May 5th and 11th.” “Exactly! If your diversion works, the bastard will move his attention outside of town.” “The hook’s been baited. Let’s see if he gets to take it.” “Pray that he does. Everything depends on it.” “I don’t secure my work with prayer, sir,” he responds with an arrogant smirk. “I’d be dead a long time ago if I had. I do a thorough job to incapacitate the enemy,” he says in a calculating tone. “I have never failed,” his voice is now ominous. “Put your money where your mouth is then. I want to make sure that when he’s hit, it shreds his soul to pieces with no chance of recovery! Then I will reward you handsomely! If however there’s any fuck up…” he adds, his voice reaching a menacing tone, “that’s your funeral.” “Got it! You’re the boss.” “Next time, answer your fucking phone when you’re called!” “I would answer it, but I was getting a download which I sent to you while I am on the phone with you. Emails, schedules, the whole fucking Trojan horse load of it!”

“What? I thought you lost the Trojan horse to Grey.” “No, it’s still loaded. It’s far, far, faaaaar from Grey’s reach.” “How far?” “His wife’s secretary’s phone, far.” “Fuck me!” Lincoln says with appreciation for the first time. “I’ll get back to you with further plans soon. I need you to do close surveillance on Mrs. Grey. I want to know her every step.” “Already being done.” “Good! I want to know when she’s gonna pop her litter out before she does!” “Unless I’m inside her vagina, I can only be the next person to know. But I will keep her under close watch.” “Good. I’ll call you with our next move,” Lincoln says and hangs up. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

CHAPTER XXVIII WHERE NO MAN THREADS If your enemy is secure at all points, be prepared for him. If he is in superior strength, evade him. If your opponent is

temperamental, seek to irritate him. Pretend to be weak, that he may grow arrogant. If he is taking his ease, give him no rest. If his forces are united, separate them. If

sovereign and subject are in accord, put division between

them. Attack him where he is unprepared, appear where you are not expected.

- Sun Tzu, the Art of War

Taylor opens the door to Barney’s lab at GEH. He is sporting a bright red shirt with the word BAZINGA! emblazoned on it. I’ve no clue whatever the hell that means. He looks up from his work. A static discharger is attached to his arm, and he’s wearing goggles which are surprisingly stylish. He gets up from his

work carefully placing a hard drive on a clear surface and rises from his seat. His jeans are tucked into his boots as usual which are tied only halfway. “Mr. Grey, Taylor! Hi!” he says excitedly. “What do you got for me?” “You won’t believe what I discovered, Mr. Grey! I had to request Welch’s help because he knows how to pull strings.” “For what purpose?” I ask. “Fingerprints of course.” “What about the contents of the hard drive? Did you manage to discover anything?” “The theory I presented you earlier, thanks to you, sir, has proven promising. Instead of directly turning on and trying to log into the hard drive which may or may not be possible, but more likely not possible because the sequence the perp started may finish off or worse yet it may have Trojans or other worms or viruses that may attempt to infect our system. So, I decided to hack the hacker.” I try not to be hopeful, but there’s a glimpse of it. “So, were you able to break in?” I ask to which Barney’s grin gets wider in answer. “I am an…” he makes quotation marks with his index and middle fingers of both hand, “elite hacker, or rather was, but I’ve got my tools sharpened, because I have to try and see first-hand if our company’s systems can hold up against external break ins." "And the results?" I ask impatiently. "Yes, I’m not quite done yet, sir. Because what I’ve been doing for the most part of the day is to put cautions in place so that what the perp has started doesn’t succeed in destroying the contents of the hard drive. But one piece of

information I discovered in the hard drive is very interesting. I don’t know what it means yet, sir.” It piques my curiosity. “What is it?” “This,” he says as he walks in front of a computer monitor. What I see is gibberish, characters jumbled in a disorganized chaos. “This is crap. Gibberish. There’s nothing to see here!” I bark. “Ah! That’s what appears at first, Mr. Grey. But let me show you something,” he says typing several keystrokes in such a speedy manner, his fingers appear to be flying on the keyboard. “See, Mr. Grey, there are a lot ordinary engineers don’t know the type of subroutines the hackers create to find the hidden files in their target, things ordinary people or even the frequent users of these toys and ~this is an expensive one with all the bells and whistles Mr. Grey.~" he adds qualifying, "This particular iPad which looks so similar to others is actually a limited edition that is coming up next month. There was a problem with a previous version which they will not tell you, but I owned every possible edition and I knew what the previous version needed; a small improvement… Anyway, I digress. This has a feature that the others didn’t have!” he adds excitedly. “It has a GPS feature with its Wi-Fi and tracks all the places this unit has been. When you turn the Wi-Fi on or when you have a prepaid service for internet connectivity, it tracks you, not for malicious purposes, although there are pre-existing government requirements for computer products that are sold overseas, and they have this tiiiiny little chip which is nearly invisible. Considering this hasn’t even come out yet, I thought you’d be interested to know where this little toy has been in its short existence,” Barney says. After a few more strokes on his keyboard, a world map emerges. “Starting point is Taiwan!” Does it mean that it’s related to my business in Taiwan? “No, I mean, yes. But it goes through a technical inspection there, this particular version anyway. But, this is military grade, Mr. Grey,” he says.

“What?” “This version has some particularities that are not available for commercial use. So, when I discovered that, I called Welch to have him speed up a partial finger print that wasn’t damaged. After deducting Lee’s, Taylor’s and your fingerprints from the hard drive, part of an index finger print remained.” “Aaaand?” I probe anxiously. “That’s where it gets interesting. The person doesn’t exist. We hit dead end.” “Doesn’t exist? How could that be possible? Do you mean no criminal records, no driver’s license, no immigration records? Unless the man is in this country illegally, there has to be something about him that exists.” “That’s the thing, sir. None of those records were in existence. Welch sent the records to Anthony Decimus, Pella’s right hand man. They have ties with the Homeland Security.” “Well, did they come up with something?” “Yes.” “WHAT?” I ask exasperated. “They came up with ‘CLASSIFIED’. He or she may have had existing records at one time or another, but no longer. That means he is or has worked in some intelligence community.” “I want that person to be found!” The White Buffalo & the Rangers - The House of Rising Son “Mr. Grey, the name comes up with compartmentalized ‘TOP SECRET’ and even those who are at the pay grade to view the top secret can’t view the details unless authorized.” I can see why perp managed to evade Lee now. But why government? Is someone in my company doing something illegal? I have to

have inspections. There’s nothing to check as far as I know, but I have to be sure. Even if it was the case, they wouldn’t be lurking around my wife this way. That's not the way government operates. She has nothing to do with my company business. I look up at Taylor and he’s now pure attention. “Back door?” Taylor asks, meaning if he’s allowed to use our allies in certain top offices. “Discreetly and indirectly. I don’t want the word to get out that we have this little evidence.” My hands run through my hair in exasperation. “I’m on it already,” he says turning his back to get on his phone. “What about the rest of the contents?” I ask. “What I can see is what Lee stated. It will take time to decipher more. However what is obvious directs us to New York. There are partial names. I have a printout over here and e-mailed one copy to Welch. Also my team is still upgrading SIP’s servers, so, no one is allowed to use their emails on their phones just yet unless the phones are first inspected by my IT team. Do you have Mrs. Grey’s phone with you sir and the phones of her personal security?” “Yes. Taylor!” I call. He looks up from his phone. I nod my head to hand the phones to Barney. It wasn’t easy to take Anastasia’s phone from her without her protests. “It’ll take me a few minutes to run the diagnostics. Once they’re cleared to use, I’ll let them have access to SIP servers and the calendars. But I need to install firewalls and anti-Trojan on them.” “Do!” I bark my order. My mind is running a hundred miles an hour, trying to decipher who is trailing after my wife. It can’t possibly be anything about her considering Lauren was also used in New York against her. Someone or someones are trying to tell me that I have enemies at unreachable places who can reach and harm my family! Who has that far of a reach? When it comes to people in my acquaintances, competitors or enemies, it could be a long list. Anger, fury, doesn’t even cover what I feel right now. I start pacing the lab rapidly, breathing from my nose like a raging bull. I feel I could kill someone!

I’m barely containing the lethal feeling without lashing someone in my near vicinity. “Sir?” I hear Barney’s voice. He must have been calling me for a while; because he looks at me quizzically, searching for an answer for a question I haven’t heard him utter. “What?” I snap at him. “The phones, Mrs. Grey’s, Sawyer’s and Miss Tiber’s are clear. But, uh, I just got a call from my IT team at SIP. They’ve discovered that Mrs. Grey’s assistant’s phone has a rider,” he says. “A rider? What the hell is that?” “It’s a Trojan chip. It’s quite possible that this particular chip may have breached the SIP information.” “What the fuck? Why would she do that?” “Apparently Hannah is quite shocked to find out, and she’s currently uncontrollably sobbing. I don’t believe she did it sir. If she was going to share information about Mrs. Grey, she wouldn’t need a Trojan horse. She already has unhindered access to all of that.” “I don’t want your fucking opinion! I want Welch to interview here, now!” I growl. Taylor is already on the move to open the door for me. “Mr. Grey?” Barney calls after me. “What?” I growl exasperated. “You’re forgetting the phones, and that was not my opinion. Welch has already interviewed her. In fact, he’s on his way to GEH to see you. He called me to order me to stay here longer because he is delivering the phone himself to me so I could closely examine it. He already had the fingerprints removed and sent for analysis. He asked me to tell you to please wait for him and that he’s on his way.” “Where is my wife’s assistant right now?”

“She’s at SIP, sir. Apparently, she went to get her phone checked to have her e-mail access restored. Honestly sir, if she was to put it on her own, why would she want to have it checked knowing full well she’d get caught? Welch has a tendency to have everything on video. You probably could verify it when he gets here within the next fifteen minutes.” I don’t respond. He’s right of course, but that also means that whoever is doing this, targeting everyone around my wife without exception. They’re not even trying to approach me. Whoever it is or they are, they’re going for the weakest link. Fuck!! Hannah has been fully scrutinized, background checked and often monitored. She doesn’t have a boyfriend, she’s a workaholic, and she occasionally sees other men but no more than for a night. She has no attachments, eats at her parents every other Sunday. She’s married to her responsibilities for my wife. I forcefully rub my temple with an approaching headache. “Let him come to my office as soon as he makes it here!” I order. Taylor leads the way to my office. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

Curtis Stiger & The Forest Rangers – This Life

“I know there are people who believe you should forgive

and forget. For the record, I'd like to say I'm a big fan of

forgiveness as long as I'm given the opportunity to get even first.”

V is for Vengeance

The phone rings, rings, rings and momentarily I worry and get mad that he won’t pick it up. “Come on! Pick up, pick up, pick up!” I bark into the ring tone. “Hello Christian!”

“It’s bloody time you answered your fucking phone!” I respond to his greeting. “It’s been quite a while since you called and lovely to hear from you as well. Is everything alright?” he asks in his polite English mannerism. “Do I sound like I’m alright?” I let out a deep frustrated breath. “You sound anxious, worried and angry. My wife’s not back from Ana’s baby shower yet. So, I’m assuming this is not about the shower.” “No! It’s not the shower. Someone or a few someones are having my wife followed or harassed; however way you want to put it. They were in New York. Whoever it was, put up my former sub Lauren who is an emergency doctor at New York Presbyterian Hospital for fuck’s sake first to humiliate Ana in what you would call the biggest mighty and wealthy gathering of the year! She nearly exposed what we had. By some fucking miracle she didn’t get a chance to finish that task.” “Were you in New York?” he asks interrupting me. “We were! Keep up with me, John! We got back early this morning.” “Christian,” he says in a calming voice. “It appears as if I joined in a conversation we have started some time ago, but in fact we have not. Indulge me, and start from the beginning. Perhaps starting with your New York trip,” he coaxes. I take a deep breath and relate the incidents up to this afternoon finishing with, “My wife is being followed because of me! Whatever the fuck I’ve done to someone, they’re taunting me by telling me that they can get to me through her! When I catch that person, or persons who is doing this, I will personally beat him to death!” I hiss without threat, just an emotional fact. “That’s your emotional dysregulation speaking, Christian. You’re utilizing all of your lower constructive representations and going back to your basics. You’re blaming yourself for something that you have no control over, beating your breast in a masochistic way, and metaphorically speaking, you’re behaving like an angry adolescent.”

“Angry?” I laugh bitterly. “Angry doesn’t even begin to cover what I feel. I’m a man in hell fire! Do you have any idea, an inkling what I would do, feel if anything ever happened to Ana? Anything at all?” “I do have an inkling Christian. My concern is not what you feel, but how you will project this feeling to those you love. You may feel that you are just and right in your feelings which may very well be so. But, I am telling you now, if your pregnant wife gets the brunt of this anger, this rage you’re feeling, you will only damage what you two have, perhaps irreparably. When you try to protect the one you love the most, don’t make your behavior a reaction to what your enemies are doing or trying to do to you. That maybe what they want and you may involuntarily give them the tools of the end game they wish to accomplish, and by default you still fail.” I close my eyes in his response. He’s right of course. “What do I do and how do I accomplish it, John?” I whisper not recognizing my voice. “The behavior is manipulative. Whoever this person or the persons are, they like being in control, and at the moment they may be in control but only from your point of view; that means you still don’t know the extent of control over your circumstances. He, she or they are being cleverly manipulative. That in itself is a game. Toying with you, like a lion playing with a gazelle. But, you’re not a gazelle. You’re another lion. So, we can possibly say that they got the tiger by the tail. What do you do in this case? Your eyes are currently blind to the identity of the attacker, another predator. Your loved ones are near. But they’re telling you that they can get their hands on those you love. I, however think that this is a game, and only a game to mess with your head. Taunt you, goad you into distraction. If the intent was to harm Ana, that would have been done already. Why feel the need to tell you ‘hey look what we can do?’ This is to psychologically disturb you, get you distraught, distracted.” “Yes, however, on the flip side, the lions who play with their prey, still kill and eat it. They just have a little bit of sick fun before they actually do the deed. I may be a lion, but Ana is not. She’s fragile,” I respond, my voice flat.

“You know, you used to give me bullshit answers, but there’s more than a flicker of light in you now. You answer my questions directly, you’re not evasive. You’re not disingenuous. I don’t know who is following Ana, but I can analyze his or her character based on the information you give me which may give you a clue if you know the people around you,” he says. “John, do I look like I care what others' likes, dislikes, behaviors are like? I didn’t give a shit before, I don’t give a shit now!” “Ah, but you’re observant of people you do business with or sleep with and have a near photographic memory. That has not changed about you, has it?” “No!” I hiss like a teenager. “You are as bossy and as patronizing as I am, John!” “Well, one aspires to be like the best,” he says chuckling at his own humor. “For fuck’s sake John! I can’t hurt Ana and I'm worried that I might. You know me and how I tend to cope. What the fuck do I do? Her assistant had the bugged phone! What is next? The message they are sending me is that they can get to her closest colleague that she interacts daily, bypass her security, reach my exes and get into high priced ‘only a few people in the world can handle’ kind of party. This person or persons are somehow my equal in financial status anyway. They are toying with me for something else they’re planning to do! Do you know how helpless that makes me feel? I don’t do helpless, John! What if someone was toying with Rhian to torture you? What would you do? Ana is my life! If anything happens to her…” Flynn interrupts me.

“Christian! Whoever it is, they are already reaching their purpose when they can cause this end result. The person or persons want mastery over you. They’re already achieving their main purpose. I need you to stand back. Look at your own resources. You are a man with ample means, wit, smarts and professionals at your disposal to discover who it is. Use them. Did you inform the police?” “You can’t be that obtuse, Flynn! No, of course not! You know the damage it would cause me! What would I say? Someone is utilizing my ex-sub to get to my wife? They would achieve their means by causing a scandal already! The news can always leak from the police anonymously. Happens all the time. I have to discover it on my own!” “Well, there can’t be very many people who would know your predilections. But of course someone bent on harming you would dig deep and hard to discover it. This proves couple of things: You are hard to get to. You have a saturnine, fearsome and formidable bodyguard in Taylor. You have layers of protection that keeps you guarded at all times. So whoever it is or they are, either looking for a way to hurt you through your wife, or that they’re saying we can find your vulnerabilities.” “In either case, they are fucking with my head! You’re telling me to use my higher intellect when all I want to do is to unleash the savage beast in me, beat the shit out of him!” “Christian, don’t give into what they want! Sometimes the illusion they create to make you believe that they got to you is more effective than what they actually do to you. Think of it this way… Celebrities and politicians all have a Twitter account now. People who once were unreachable, all of a sudden becomes reachable because everyone has a voice and can say what they want to them, good or bad, anonymously in fact. Hurt them, drive them angry, or mad. Or they can be having a bad day and they’re slurping away an extra-large chocolate milk shake and someone snaps a photo of them, sells it to a magazine, bam! Bad publicity, a huge blow to an already down self-esteem. In reality, did they really get to that person? No, of course not. But these are mind games, as you would call 'mind-fuck' and in that way, they get to him or her. In a different

way, it’s the same game. Yes, it might be a bazillionaire tea party in New York, but there are all kind of service personnel that contribute to the event, food and hospitality industry, so there are quite a few weak links below to get in to the party. One does not have to be a billionaire like you to be in that event. The purpose is to make you feel vulnerable, helpless, so you do something out of character.” “That’s not it, John! The fingerprint we’ve discovered on the hard drive is classified! Classified! The fucking bastard doesn’t even exist in real records! Who has the money to hire someone like that? Is it a rouge? Is there a bigger conspiracy? I’m going out of my mind!” “Christian, Christian, Christian! Calm down! It is glaringly obvious that this is a person who has the knowledge of you. Either you’ve met this person, had dealings with him or her long enough to show your temper, your sense of self-worth, your love for your wife…” “Most of which can be discovered from news and gossip magazines!” I bark back. “Not all of it. They have to sift through fact and fiction and there are a lot of fiction, manufactured news to drive traffic and readers. This is a person who has done his or her homework well. This is personal. One does not target a man’s family if it’s not personal. Business, yes. They would target your finances, money, dealings with other companies, or even you personally. But, your wife has not been in this largess before and she’s had no business dealings, and she probably hasn’t even said an unkind word to anyone. This isn’t about Anastasia. This is about you. This is absolutely personal. When you know this, how big is your list to research?” he asks. “How about Leila? She has proven that she knows more about me than I gave her credit for and she did pull a gun on Ana.” “Leila is still going through her therapy. I speak to her once a week, and I get reports of her progress. She is in fact in a new relationship. She’s taking her art lessons and quite busy. She hasn’t left her town since the last incident. Leila’s

was a cry for help. Was it manipulative to get to you? Yes, but this is not the same M.O.” “Look, John, I’m not entirely sure if it’s all about me. Look at the last fucking incident we had! Jack Hyde. A fucker who was obsessed with my wife got her own editor to help out. So, unexpected people can attack you personally! He fucking kidnapped my sister, ready to rape and kill them both! Mental people can and does this sort of shit! I can make a list of my personal enemies, business rivals but the rouges are hard to discover. They operate on their own with a small budget. They don’t even have to have my wealth to do this!” There’s a knock on my door. I look up. Welch walks in after Taylor opens the door.

"But, in a way, it was still about you, because you were foster kids together with Hyde. He aspired to have what you have." “John, I gotta go!” “Wait, Christian, I need to see you and Ana this week or next week. Make time!” he warns. “I'll call you. Bye, John,” I say hanging up. “About fucking time you got here!” I bellow at Welch. “Had to give instructions to Barney about the bug, sir,” he says without a beat. "Let's get this show on the way," I utter. Welch walks towards my desk, sets up a tablet on my desk and presses ‘play’ on a paused video. The recording is from the surveillance. Ana’s assistant Hannah approaches the IT department at SIP and is talking to Barney’s assistant.

“I need to have my smart phone have access to my e-mail at SIP. Could you set it up for me please?” she asks and hands her phone. “Your screen appears to be severely scratched and the backing is cracked,” Donovan says. “I know. I haven’t had the time to get it exchanged. It happened on the way to New York at the airport. I collided with another passenger and dropped everything. I was in New York this whole time, and now I’m back but I don’t have time to have it replaced maybe until next month, so it will have to do until then. It’s working so far. I have to wait until my replacement plan kicks in next month,” she explains herself. “Okay. It’ll be just a few minutes if you want to wait.” “Sure, I’ll wait,” she says and takes a seat. There’s no nervous gesture. She just takes out a book out of her purse and starts reading it. She doesn’t even notice the fury of activity behind the IT room. Fifteen minutes later, she lifts her head up and walks to the IT desk. “My lunch will be over soon. Is it done yet?” she asks. “No. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait here until Mr. Welch gets here.” “Who’s Mr. Welch? Is he the guy who sets up e-mails?” she asks innocently. “No, ma’am. He’s the head of security.” “What’s he doing with the IT department then? Does he need to provide an okay or something?” “No. He’ll explain the procedure to you. Just have a seat until he gets here.” “But my lunch is almost over. I got piles of work to do.”

“Don’t worry. This takes precedence. It won’t be long. He’ll be here shortly,” Donovan says with a smile. “Okay, then,” she says and takes her seat to resume her reading. Welch speeds up the video for about 18 minutes further. When he presses ‘play’ again, he’s walking into the IT room. “Hannah?” he addresses her. “Yes, you must be Mr. Welch. Do you need to vet me for the e-mail set up?” “I need to interview you about the Trojan bug on your phone.” “The what?” she asks incredulous with complete surprise and confusion on her face. “You have a chip installed on your smart phone which downloads data, correspondence, phone conversations; access your microphone as well as your camera. I’d like to know where you got it.” “I know you’re speaking English, but I’m not understanding a word you said as if you just lapsed into Swedish. What exactly are you saying? What bug? Where? How?” “Have a seat Hannah,” he says directing her to a desk. He sits in front of her. “Your smart phone is bugged. It had downloaded personal information, emails, possibly recorded personal conversations, had access to your camera pertaining Mrs. Grey,” Welch explains calmly. “What the hell? Who? Why? What?” she jumps to her feet. “What are you saying? Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!” her hands covering her face. She’s visibly shaken. “Sit down Hannah!” Welch orders.

“I need you to focus and tell me if your phone ever left your custody in recent months, weeks, days.” “Nooo! I don’t think so!” she says as paces. “Focus!” Welch says unaffected. “Either you placed it in there…” “For what purpose? Why would I give access to someone else over my phone?” “For money, privilege, favors or fear, any or all of these options would be an enticement.” “Ana is my friend not to mention she’s the best boss I ever had! I adore her! I would never do anything like that to her, let alone jeopardize my own career!” “Going back to my previous question… Has your phone ever left your custody even for a short while?” Hannah paces the short distance back and forth and suddenly she halts as if a light bulb is turned on in her head. “Yes, of course! Of course! Fuck me!” “What?” asks Welch, his curiosity piqued. “At the fucking airport! I was in a rush to get to a red eye flight to go to New York, because Ana asked for some manuscripts and I didn’t have time to make it to her flight. So, I rushed with loads of manuscripts and my laptop bag and purse and collided with someone at the airport. My phone fell out, the battery got separated, and the person I collided with put it together and gave it back to me. But, it was an accident and it…” she stops, “it didn’t take a long time to put it together I guess. I don’t remember. I was about to miss my plane. We ended up in the same flight.” Welch stands up. “Same flight?”

“Yes, same flight. His name was Joe.” “Joe?” asks Welch. “Generic name,” Taylor interjects. “Yes,” I murmur. “Do you remember the seat number?” Welch on the video asks. “Mine? Or His?” "His." “I have part of the ticket,” she says digging into her purse and hands it to Welch. “I was sitting here, and he was not far over there in business section I think, or first class. I don’t remember. Then we ended up sharing a cab when I landed because I couldn’t find a cab. It was so frigging late and cold. He said he was visiting family.” She says pointing an imaginary seat. “Good! Now write down all the names you remember. Hotels, times, seat numbers, his description. We’ll check those.” The video ends. “I assume you haven’t checked it yet,” I say to Welch but with a little bit of ease now. “Not yet sir. But airport security feeds are the property of federal government. We don’t have access to them and without an indictment we can’t legally have access to them,” he says. “But, you suggest?” I probe. “Our friend has a few places that he can’t gain access, and these places happens to be ones he can gain access. Discreetly of course. His backdoor policy has a lot of favors lined up. After all, he opens up doors in places government doesn’t directly like to open. It would be a favor for favor.” “What would we owe him?”

“Favor for favor,” Welch says. “Like Godfather. He’s the bread-maker, and the undertaker.” “Exactly. But, I think we found a solution. The new contract you’ve acquired in New York. Have him supply the defense mechanisms on the cargo ships that GEH would fit in.” “You mean weapons! You know how I feel about weapons!” I bellow. “I also know how you feel about bullies, people who spread violence to others with no defense. This supersedes your former objections, sir. Besides, don’t forget the attacks we’ve endured while sending aid to Darfur. People need to be able to defend themselves against such brutal violence. It’s a necessary evil, sir.” “Spoken like a former soldier that you are. Okay, I’ll set my terms. Get Pella on board formally. He is in charge of discovering the perp, and I want progress reports, I want to see results, names, locations, sources of funds. Share your findings with Pella. Full disclosure! Come back to me with the security measures and how you propose to protect my family without further irritating the fuck out of them, and I want updates as soon as new information becomes available.” “We’re already on it, sir! I just needed your approval.” “Find the fuckers! I’m going to deliver the punishment myself!” Both Taylor and Welch share a brief glimpse then Welch nods, and leaves my office. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

“How was the shower baby?” I ask as I lead Anastasia into our bedroom. Taylor and the staff have to carry the gifts Anastasia and the baby received in several trips. Anastasia answers with a big grin: “Amazing! Not only that, we’ve made plans for Kate and Elliot’s wedding afterwards. You know, food, dresses,

tablescape, flowers, rehearsals. By the way, can I have my phone back? I have to enter the dates into my calendar so Hannah can block off those dates for me,” she says. “Ana, you should not be planning to work that far into the pregnancy. It’s only a week before the baby is born. First babies I’ve read are rather unpredictable. I would like you to stop working at least in the second half of the third trimester.” “Christian! That’s no time at all. I’ve got so much to do at work. You want me to take over SIP, but you won’t let me work! How do I learn if I don’t work?” “Fair point well made, however, it’s not that I’m not letting you to work. I thought our child’s well-being was a priority for you. Or is it something I misunderstood?” I goad her. “That’s a low blow and you know that Christian! I want to be able to work. That doesn’t mean I don’t care about the baby’s well-being. I just want to be able to feel useful, productive and after the baby is born, I will have to rearrange my schedule anyway.” “What makes you think you won’t be useful just because you don’t exert as much on yourself resting up before our baby is born? You can delegate the work in capable hands and still have control over your workplace. All I’m asking is that you remain well rested so that you and our baby are healthy. Is it too much for me to ask this of you?” I give her my most innocent look, disarming her. “But you work hard!” she protests. “Ana, I'm not the one who is carrying our baby. I had to build up the business, build up the assets as well as the staff who could work effectively so I could spend time with you, so you don’t have to work as hard. Because I guarantee you, when the baby is born, you’re not gonna want to stay away from him too long and you will need to practice how to delegate work and you have a lovely home office. You assistant can come daily. You just can limit your office commute time.”

“Christian, the others at work will resent me for not putting enough time in!” she protests. “Anastasia, you will have to learn to care less about the opinions of others. I don’t. For me, your opinion matters, but not my employees’ opinion of me. To a degree it matters, but not in the grand scheme of things. It is important to learn to prioritize. A lion doesn’t lose sleep over the opinion of the sheep.” She looks at me incredulous. Shakes her head and walks towards the bathroom. “Are you walking away from me?” I ask bewildered. “You know me so well, Sherlock!” she gives me an angry glance. “God! There’s no other woman, ever, who drives me as passionate or as insane!” “Yeah?” she says coming back to me looking up at me with her angry gaze. Placing her hands on my chest she pushes me to the wall. “I don’t know whether to hit you or kiss you! It’s a little bit of both when you do that.” “Do it!” I provoke her. “What?” she asks. “You’re angry with me. Take it out in bed.” “Oh no! You’re the expert in that,” she says. “Well, when it comes to you baby, I’m an amateur. Do it! You’re mad at me. Let’s get it out in the open. I’m in your hands. Do it! You want to hit me Ana? Go ahead!” Her chest rises up and down in rapid succession. When will she understand that all I want to do is to protect her, love her, keep her alive. She’s my love, my addiction, my beginning and my end. I can never get enough of her. Never! If she wants to hurt me, I’ll let her do it. If she wants to love, here I am.

“I’m not going anywhere Ana. This is all of me. Good and bad. Do whatever you want! Meet me half way. What is it you want Ana?” The Black Eyed Peas – Just Can’t Get Enough “Kiss me!” she whispers her order. “Convince me! But don’t make me!” “Where?” Her response is panting, expectant lips and closed eyes. “Where Ana?” “Here! Do it here!” “Fuck, yes!” She gives me a half smile as if to say ‘I dare you’. Oh, baby, you know me. I don’t back down from a challenge. She pulls me down by my tie. Though there is no physical connection just yet, my awareness of her is intense, heady. My senses focus on my wife who is only holding the end of my tie. My body is currently triumphing over my what Flynn would call ‘higher cognitive functions’. My senses are simply focused on my wife. She rises up on her toes and pulls me down to her lips to brush them up simply. When we barely touch, I just breathe her in, taste her lips, the scent of orange juice she was drinking mixes with my taste of Sancerre. I don’t touch her. My hands are placed on the behind me. I then slowly shift my position to get her to the wall. My hands are on the sides of her head, but still not touching. My lips coax her, she’s helpless to open her mouth, letting me enter with my soft tongue, welcoming my soft licks. I can now slip my arm around her waist to pull her closer. It’s not just a kiss for her; she’s intense, barely verging on her control. “Let it go,” I murmur into her lips. “Unleash whatever you have. Do it!” Just like that, we’re close. Her breast are mashed into my chest. Her hands are both shoving me away and pulling me into her at the same time, reflecting her inner turmoil. “Control, baby,” I whisper as I kiss her chin.

“Show me!” she orders. I pull back and look at her. “You heard me, Mr. Grey. Show me!” she repeats. Wordlessly, I seize her hands, hold them above her head with one hand. Undoing my tie, I use it to tie her hands up at the wrist. With one swift move, I turn her towards the wall. “All you have to say is stop, and I will. Just.” I caress the side of her cheek as she closes her eyes, “the.” I whisper into her ear, “word.” Brush my lips on the side of her mouth, “no. Then I stop. Do you want me to stop, Ana?” I murmur. She shakes her head in response. Her body shudders in anticipation. “Keep your hand up on the wall like that,” I say and take a step back, make her wait, anticipate, and desire me. Her breathing is harsh even though we are not touching.

“Good girl!” I lift her skirt up, grab the bottom of her panties, stick my index finger into the lace, and shred it. After ripping one side, I pull it and stuff it into my pocket. I hear Anastasia’s gasp, her temperature is rising. I roll the skirt of her dress up her waist, pull her derriere outwards and with my feet, I spread her legs apart. Her back is arched and she’s a delectable sight to see. “Hold this position. If you move, there will be no satisfaction, Mrs. Grey.” I travel a single finger over her buttocks, making my way down her deforested

sex, gliding between her wet folds. When I reach her clitoris, she’s on fire. A moan escapes her lips. “Hush now, baby!” I order. I toy with her slick bloom, inserting one finger just barely, stroking up and down, but not inwards. I’m mere inches away from her. My other hand undoes the buttons of her dress opening and exposing her breasts out of the cups. I hold and pinch first then pull her nipple. Watching her reaction. My left hand teases her clitoris, pleasing, keeping her at the precipice of the demands of her body, but not giving complete satisfaction. When I pull her nipple between my thumb and index finger, I dip three fingers into her sex. The unexpected invasion is met with a pleasured gasp, tingling sensation of her body. I slide my fingers in and out of her, slowly, with deliberate strokes, pumping my fingers, simulating what my cock would do, in a pounding, measured rhythm. Thrusting, pulling, pinching, dance of my fingers. She arches her back further to get the intensity of my probing raised. I smack her ass twice to hold the position. Part of control is to retaining the norms you so desire. “Ahh!” she groans, but resumes her former position. Then my fingers continue their probing. “I want you in me!” she demands. “Decide, or I will stop it now! This or nothing!” “That’s cruel!” “No, baby, that’s control. You asked me, and I’m showing you,” I say. Her sex is pulsing with her impending orgasm. “I want you to hold it. Don’t come until I say so,” I order. “I won’t!” Then my fingers start moving in their sensual dance inside her and my right hand continue to pleasure her sensitive breasts. In and out. Pushing, pounding, probing, slow then forceful. On and on. “Christian, I’m close!”

“Hold a little longer baby!” I command. Her pleasure is my pleasure and my cock is pushing hard to get out, but I need to complete this. “Now, Ana!” I order and she detonates around my fingers. I can feel the shudders that go through her sex, on the tip of my cock. Her body sags against my torso, and I carry her to our bed. “For that Mr. Grey,” she says opening her lids, “I will reciprocate in kind,” and she proceeds to take me.

“Be my guest, Mrs. Grey!”

CHAPTER XXIX THE BAIT Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt. Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Welch and Barney are standing in front of my desk in my office. My arms crossed, I gaze at both of them. “It has been nearly 3 months and we have hit several dead ends. I’m getting very impatient. Why can’t we get a name?” I shout, slamming my hand as my voice booms around the room. Only Barney flinches a little. “Mr. Grey, the Feds aren’t giving up the name that matches the partial. We’ve tested and forced every door available. The guy’s a ghost.”

Frustration looms over me like a dark cloud. “The fucker is lying low as well. If he’s following us…” I say looking at Taylor. “We’ve not had anyone tailing us or Mrs. Grey, sir. I’ve conferred with your parents’, your sister’s and your brother’s security details as well. No activity so far. Whatever he’s doing, he’s just staying under the radar.” “I don’t get it! Why tail my wife in New York, break into the SIP server through my wife’s assistant, and abandon. That’s not possible, unless it’s a diversion from another purpose he or they have planned.” “We’re not giving up Mr. Grey. But it makes it difficult when the trail is getting cold. We haven’t had any activity, and the partial print is a dead end as far as our feds contacts are concerned. They said to leave it be as far as his identity is concerned. But…” Welch trails off. “But what?” I hiss growing frustrated. “Your brother’s wedding is coming up in three weeks. And we are concerned…” he says looking up at Taylor who nods once, “that this might be an ideal place for the perp to make an attempt to sneak past our defenses. Open crowds are our biggest challenge because they’re harder to control. We have checked and rechecked the entire guest list and their companions. We’ve also checked all of the service people, but there can always be last minute changes. Someone calling in sick, someone taking the identity of another person…” and that’s the crux of my worries. Anything can happen. “Since Mrs. Grey will be the Matron of Honor, she will be active in the ceremony.” “We were hoping…” Taylor starts cutting in, “that Mrs. Grey would be a little less active since she’s only four weeks away from the delivery now, and by the time the wedding is underway, it’ll be only one week to the delivery, sir. That way, we can have a little more control of who can come close to her.”

“No can do, and you know it! She’ll find it offensive and this is one event she’s been looking forward to. When she's not going to work, she gets cooped up in the house with swollen feet. So, she looks forward to every opportunity that can get her out and about.” If I put a limit to her activities even for the sake of the baby concerning her best friend’s wedding, she’ll have a fit, and will not forgive me for weeks. She has been moody as the pregnancy has been progressing. Dr. Greene says it’s the hormones. And I can’t have my wife angry at me for weeks. Not when she needs me, not when we are so close to the delivery. This is on the security. They’ll have to find a different solution without putting the burden on Ana. I know they’re worried about her as well. They’re worried about the sudden silence of the perpetrator as if he just dropped out of the face of the planet. I don’t know what is better. A perp actively pursuing the love of your life or one who has gone out of the radar? Is he dead or just gone stealth? I think it’s the latter that worries me and my security detail. He just went ghost on us. “What say you, Barney?” I ask as he’s attentively listening to Welch and Taylor. He clears his throat. “We have no security holes that we can detect so far, sir. All the information that I recovered from that hard drive aided us how to block smart phone related security breaches. But, nothing is foolproof. As for the identity of people, I have only recovered information enough to construct a profile of the perpetrator, but not the identity. To recap that information…” he says as he shuffles the screen of his tablet. When he gets to a particular page, he shifts his glasses and pushes them back on the bridge of his nose and reads.

“The perp is a male. Mid to late 30s. He’s well built, athletic, intelligent, patient, resourceful, he knows how to get in and out of places with disturbing ease, comfortable in privileged society which may indicate that either he is or was a part of it sometime in the past either working or through personal means, he’s confident, has intensive military, intelligence training. He’s also very good with technology utilizing it, but the way which he utilizes it shows me that he may at one point in time have been a part of either the hacker community or the IT security branch of the government who are a part of the elite IT security professionals. The breadcrumbs he left us, and they’re just that, disposable breadcrumbs are items he wanted us to find. He orchestrated it. He’s very good in his craft…” “Well, the way all three of my best security and IT guys vouching for this fucker, I should hire him instead of the three of you!” I bellow. No one dares to respond. “Why can’t Pella’s contacts with the Feds come through?” I ask trying for the semblance of patience. “We can’t reach him. He’s been out of the country for weeks and the only thing his assistant in Los Angeles managed to confirm is that whoever this perp is, he is not acting as part of a government project. His name is erased of all records. The man is a ghost; he doesn’t exist anywhere except in covert ops and that’s beyond anyone’s reach, sir,” says Welch. “Clearly, it’s not, because someone got to him to do this job!” I said. “Clearly he can’t just vanish like will-o-the-wisp into thin air!” The door to my office opens with a hasty knock followed by Alex Pella stepping in and a flustered Andrea rushes after Pella and his main security detail Anthony Decimus. “Apologies Mr. Grey,” mutters Andrea. “Mr. Pella is here,” she says, and I swear she mutters “unannounced” under her breath, but Pella ignores her. I dismiss her with a nod. His visit is unexpected but not unwelcome. “I agree, Grey,” he says extending his hand to me surprising us all with his presence. “He can’t. Everything leaves a form of a trace... Even a ghost,” he says arching his eyebrows as he looks at Welch.

“Well, speaking of the devil,” I say. “My men tell me that you’re harder to reach than I am. Considering how hard it is to reach me, this ought to be a compliment for you,” I say as we do our customary forearm shake. “I didn’t drop out of the face of the planet, if that’s what you’re asking, and it’s not always as hard to reach me. But certain leads I get require my personal follow up and attention. I was actually chasing your perp, always three steps behind. I must say, he is well connected, and trots the globe like it’s his backyard. That says a few things: he has the know-how and the means to do that and he’s always under the radar.” “How then do you know that you were following the right man?” I ask crossing my arms. He points to a chair before my desk, “may I?” he asks, and without waiting for my reply, he sits in it.

“Yes, go right ahead,” I say with a wry smile. “I’m sorry, I’m actually quite exhausted. I’ve slept 20 minutes in the last 48 hours; I just haven’t had any time to call you or Welch and we literally just flew in,” he says opening his eyes wide as if he’s trying to ward off sleep. “As you’re well aware, the Feds are a dead end. They won’t give up or divulge any information about the identity of the perp through the back door. And even if we were to go through proper channels which you don’t want Grey for reasons of your own, they would be even more of a stonewall to us. This way, we know the man exists and his identity is buried deep in the system. But whatever services he has provided for his country, it kept his identity under wraps. National security supersedes personal security and therefore we are blocked even with my contacts.”

“So, what then were you chasing?” I ask after he recaps what we already concluded. “Our John Doe,” he replies with an arrogant gleam in his eyes. Olly Murs - Troublemaker

“He may be in his line of work for a few years but I have more connections and years in this than many of his peers and sometimes what is kept hidden is out in plain sight.” “What do you mean?” Taylor asks. “I had gotten a hold of the surveillance videos from the airports. He perp managed to keep his head down, but I had a frame of visual of his profile with 87% clarity. Of course, with a man who doesn’t exist in any system and a man who can change faces either through make-up or surgeries, it would be only a minuscule chance for us to discover his identity. But, the name is nothing. The person behind the name is what matters. After calling in some favors, I had circulated his picture around the underground rogue ‘officials’,” he says making air quotations. There are those who need favors and those are hard to come by. I had to get someone out of a Siberian prison in exchange of the name or whereabouts of the perp, someone our government decided to forget, a man who was very motivated to talk after six years of hard labor.” “Why would they let him go?” I ask. “No one really let him go. We sort of stole him,” he says shrugging. “You kidnapped an intelligence prisoner? A spy?” I ask incredulous. “No, not exactly,” he says with a wicked grin. “It’s not like he existed in their records or ours for that matter, here. Could it actually be classified as kidnapping if we just stole a person who didn’t exist, one who was just written off which made him extremely anxious to talk to me and he’s now a free agent, so to speak. But, our perp has no real name which wouldn’t do us any good anyway; just code names and that actually mean a little more because they’re associated with the perp’s whereabouts since they can go through many code names in the course of any given time. But it gave us a starting point where such an individual can be located. We’re all creatures of habit no matter how hard we try to remain outside of the norm of certain routines.” “But, don’t you think it would be nearly impossible to locate someone whose name we don’t know other than a generic name John, who may very well have abandoned the

task after the possibility of being captured. And if that’s the case, a man like that could be anywhere in the world; in which case we have no place to start looking for him!” I nearly growl exasperated. “Yet, you don’t believe that and neither do your men,” he answers sure of himself. “Why do you say that?” I ask with a placid face. “You have doubts. You’re questioning your statement’s plausibility. We have to operate under the assumption that he did not abandon the task. That’s being prepared for the worst case of scenario even if the best occurs. I have to play the cynic here. Even if we were all to agree without any doubt that our perp John and the one who hired him have abandoned their intended task, one of us must always be the ‘it man’ to take the potential threat seriously no matter how far-fetched it may seem. That may save your ass a lot of grief!” “Mr. Pella, isn’t this a paranoid approach to danger?” asks Welch. “It should be your job to do the paranoid approach so your boss doesn’t have to worry about it,” Alex retorts. “You know that the threats have been real, consecutive since Mr. Grey’s engagement to Mrs. Grey, and most recently, she was ambushed at a very exclusive party by a guest, no less! Then we have the problem of a close encounter; close enough to breach SIP cyber security to give access to Mrs. Grey’s personal e-mails as well as her schedule. Can you imagine what can happen if the contents of the messages were released online, or her personal information, her schedule, her whereabouts; when you look at it that way, you know that the danger she may be facing is great.” “Alright! We’re just talking in circles here. What’s the solution? We’ve not discovered who the fucking perp is,” I hiss fisting my hands. “Bait the trap, then,” says Pella in a low but clear voice. “Bait. With. Whom?” I ask enunciating each word. “The perp thinks he may have access to Mrs. Grey. Let him think that. Put out fake information out. In fact, we can even place a double for Mrs. Grey who will carry out some of those ‘fake tasks’ just in case if someone is watching her from afar. We need to know if someone is still keeping an eye on her. Let this other woman do some of the obvious things that Mrs. Grey would do. If Miss Tiber and Sawyer are with her, the

perp will assume that Mrs. Grey is there as well. This will give us the opportunity to observe if someone is still conducting surveillance on her. Let’s do that at least for the next two weeks,” Pella indicates. “Will we hire new security detail for Mrs. Grey?” Taylor asks concerned.

“No, that’s not what I’m suggesting. Mr. Grey is known to have only his trusted security around him. Clearly every enemy worth his salt would know that if Christian was someplace, you would be with him. He doesn’t go without you. If people see him, they assume that you’re with him and nearly 100% of the time, you are. And vice versa. If you are someplace, people will assume that Christian is nearby. Because, he doesn’t trust anyone else as much as you. Same can be assumed for Mrs. Grey. Sawyer seems to be a permanent fixture in Mrs. Grey’s security detail. They’ve seen Miss Tiber long enough with her to know that she’s a near permanent fixture as far as Mrs. Grey’s personal security is concerned. I would suggest involving Mrs. Grey, but at second thought, the more people know the easier for this plan to leak,” Pella says looking at me. I don’t want Ana to be involved in any shape or form in this scheme not only because I would concern that it would leak, but primarily for her well-being. She’d worry, and she’s in her third trimester in her pregnancy. Besides, another brunette who looks like her leaving Escala or appear to be going to her workplace or her appointments would make her think that a sub was involved. I can’t have her think that. She’s going to be busy with my brother’s wedding preparations, helping her friend Katherine. That may give us the window of opportunity. The wedding is only three weeks and the baby is due in four. Her matron of honor gown had been altered at least three times and she wants to be less visible. I’m going to be my brother Elliot’s best

man. Welch’s team is in charge of handling the security. The wedding date has been set and it can’t be manipulated. People have received their invitations and have confirmed. We have planned the security like our own wedding. We will transport the guests to the prearranged location. “Taylor!” I say abruptly standing up. “Have Barney create a fake schedule for Ana. I don’t know how he’s going to do that, but make sure it’s not mixed up with her real schedule which shouldn’t be too hard since all the smart phones have to be approved by the IT department at SIP. That way, no confusion is created by Hannah’s phone receiving the schedule.” “Well, what happens when Hannah receives the fake schedule? I’m sure she’s going to assume that Mrs. Grey schedule and alerts her with what she needs to do except that she doesn’t need to do those. We may create problems inadvertently.” “That’s why we need to make sure that those few dates will be on the days Ana will be resting at home.” “Can you make her stay at home?” asks Pella. “She’s going to work 3 days a week right now, but any three days of the week, because she’s not always feeling so well. I can have Dr. Green suggest her to drop the number of days to two. Because she’s very into the baby’s well-being. If she suggests that Ana is spending a lot of time for Katherine’s wedding preparations as well as work, she might get her to spend fewer days at work.” “Okay, that might work, sir,” responds Taylor deep in thought. “We track Mrs. Grey’s vehicle with her double, take her to the fake appointments or work and have inconspicuous vehicles following her at a safe distance to observe if there are any individuals following,” Welch adds. “Taylor, you’re in charge of finding a woman who fits Anastasia’s description. Have either Sawyer or Melissa take her to Ana’s doctor. How many appointments do we need to take this other woman?” I turn and ask Pella. “Christian, we’ll have to put up a whole show. This man had seen Mrs. Grey. He was in her close vicinity. So, whoever is going to play her double, cannot look that much differently than Mrs. Grey. It has to be a full show, Christian.”

“It won’t be easy, sir, especially if we have to keep it from Mrs. Grey,” says Welch. “That’s why I’m paying you the money I do, Welch, so you get the impossible done for me. Is that a problem for you?” I ask menacingly. “No, sir,” he responds berated. “Great! Then we start this week!” Pella says dispersing the crackling violent energy I’m emanating. “Will you be in town? I really can’t afford to play the ‘Find Pella’ game at this stage.” He grins slyly at my remark. “I too am a man in demand, my friend. But it so happens that I can conduct my business from Seattle for the duration of the month. I can’t promise to stay in town afterwards. I have to get back to LA. But I promise to remain here for the duration of one month, or until the perp is caught whichever is shorter. I intend to resolve this problem it within a month,” he says solemnly. “I will pay you of course, for this…” but he holds his hand up. “I told you I would do this as a gift,” he responds. “This is business. You shouldn’t have to. Your gift had been the help you provided with Charlie Tango,” I say resolutely. I don’t want to be beholden to anyone, especially friends. I can afford his services however expensive they are. And his services are the ones I’d like to employ because he has no rival in his field. He first looks offended as if I rejected a precious gift, a gift he wouldn’t part for anything with anyone else. “That was your wedding gift. This…” he says pausing, looks around as if he isn’t sure whether he wants to part with the real reason for the help he’s offering and comes to eye to eye with his bodyguard Anthony Decimus. A silent communication goes between them. For a brief Alex’s eyes holds a deep ancient sorrow as if he’s holding the load of the world; failure, guilt even and the biggest agony I’ve ever seen in someone’s eyes. His bodyguard’s eyes are unreadable to me, though Alex seems to have read a lot in them.

“Why?” I ask simply, softly, yet my voice carries a demand to be told the truth, one that would determine if his help, paid or not acceptable for me. “What’s in it for you? Besides you being my friend. Clearly, this would be a huge favor and I don’t like to owe. I would much rather prefer to pay,” because paying for the services puts me in charge. I hire and fire, accept or deny; I am always in charge. His eyes then turn to Taylor, who also looks resolute and firm. “Reckoning.” “This isn’t your reckoning. It’s mine,” I respond without blinking. “Not quite. You’ve not experienced the harm from someone or something that targets those you love just to hurt you to the full extent. Believe me, nothing shatters your soul into millions of pieces…” he whispers, then his voice goes even lower, I strain to hear him, “irreparably as the loss of the reason for your existence…” You could hear a pin drop in the room with his revelation. “I have. I don’t wish it on anyone, least of all my friend.” “Why hasn’t there been any news about your loss? How long ago was this?” I ask as curiosity gets the better of me. But then I feel I’m intruding into his personal life. This is a man who is as private as I am who just shared a very personal information with me. “It was a long time ago and it was a time and place where the conventional news media didn’t reach. Besides, I wasn’t going to make a spectacle of my personal losses or have the law enforcement to do my job to bring ‘justice’,” he said is if the word was an expletive, “to the loss of my family. It’s my job.” He concluded with finality. The look on his face said that this is a man who knows revenge. “How could the conventional media not reach such an important news about you? Men like us barf and it makes the headline news,” I say questioning as I cross my arms. “Come now, Grey. You know as well as I do that we do our best to stay under the radar. Me, more so than you.” Welch and Taylor are by now pure attention. “I employ a

very capable staff and I always take care of my own problems. I go to places where our laws don’t reach, no laws of land that I could abide by exist… where I,” he says pausing, then continues, “have to bring my own laws in my own company,” he says raising his eyebrows, leaving the rest for speculation. I cup my chin in my hand thoughtfully. If I were to hire anyone to finish this job and do it efficiently and quickly, it would definitely be Pella. But it doesn’t rest easy with me that he’s not asking me to pay him. I have to get my own terms so I feel utmost confidence and not to mention the right to give orders for this. “I want you to do the job, but here’s the problem. I have to pay you for your services. I can’t accept a favor as big as this and not think that there isn’t something else behind this, what would be a monumental favor. I don’t like owing. Let’s iron this out so you and my team can start as soon as you leave my office.” Pella leans back in his chair crossing his arm. He has a determined aura in his body language. “Counter proposal then. I lead this investigation. Welch answers to me. You pay me for the incidentals, travel expenses and my men’s time. My time shall remain a gift. I don’t like to be an Indian giver; I don’t like to take my offers back. This way, I would still provide you with a gift yet you pay for the rest of the expenses. This would be a winwin for both of our requirements. Would that be acceptable you?” he asks. The lead? Welch answers to me and I reach him every step of the way. But Pella is unreachable at times. This is the first concern I need to address. “Welch is my paid employee. I’m his boss. I can reach him 24/7. You, on the other hand are another ghost. I can’t find you when I need to. That’s a concern when I have this sort of problem in my hand.” “I am going to be reachable 24/7 until this problem is resolved, because I will be here. And, if,” he says emphasizing, “however, the finding the perp requires me to travel, I will do that informing you and with an open channel for you to get a hold of me.” That eases my mind. But I’m not done interrogating him. I stand up and go around my desk. I lean back onto my desk right in front of him towering before his seat in a very dominant gesture which doesn’t escape his notice. My arms crossed, I looked down on him seeking and eliciting the real intent about his grand gesture. “Why do you want to lead? Isn’t Welch up to par?” I ask. There is no flinch on Welch but his pupils slightly dilate to take in Pella’s response. All heads turn to Alex. He smiles and looks each of us straight in the eyes, his eyes darkened. My tactic brings out a determined Pella who is full of steely control. He doesn’t have the hair trigger temper

most men of power possess for such a challenge. The single minded, decisive glint in his darkened eyes slowly takes us all in for a long minute. Then he rises to his considerable height, slowly takes two steps towards Welch. “Welch has been leading the investigation all this time. I don’t mind cooperating with Welch who has considerable experience and know how. But, there’s no one better than I am in the field of reconnaissance and if there was, he or she would be or is working for me. I am the best connected, most aggressive, stealthy and skillful. There’s also the issue of time. You cannot have two leaders in such a mission. You can only have one leader. You, of all people should understand that better. I, am the natural choice. I don’t follow. Ever. I lead.” “Welch shall be the second in command. I am to be in the loop at all times. I am still the final person to report to. With these conditions, you have a deal,” I say and extend my hand. He grasps my forearm and we shake on it. “Taylor, Welch, Anthony… Let’s get to work,” he says. “I will have to participate remotely, sir. Welch will inform me,” Taylor says. The trio consisted of Pella, Decimus and Welch walk towards the doors. “Oh, Alex!” I say with an afterthought. He turns around and looks up at me curiously. “How’s the rigging on the ships going?” “The designs as I’m sure your shipyard manager informed you, are completed; we’re in the production phase. We should start the installations in May. You know the laws in Washington state,” he says with a sly grin, “if I’m not mistaken, some of which you helped co-sponsor.” He’s referring to the anti-gun measures. “Yes,” I say with a placid face. “Well, those very laws you helped put in place are just putting us on hold until we get the green light from the government. After all, this is unusual for such ships designed for cargo, but I’m afraid they became necessary for the safety of the crew not to mention the way it interrupts business. I’m surprised that they have not reached out to you before,” he says as if they have waited too long. “Why would it be necessary in the extent they want it? They could easily carry handguns, and I’m sure the ports they’re traveling have laws their own to abide by.”

“Christian,” Alex sighs patiently. “You’ve been doing business on the mainland here and with Europe far too long. The open seas are an entirely different business. Out there, you’re your own law, your own doctor, your own shrink, your own chef, your sole protector in many cases, and you better have a crew and resources on your own ship you can rely on. This is not excess, but a necessity. When the pirates come to your ship to take what you have, to use you for ransom and hold you hostage in unspeakable conditions where hostages have died, you quickly realize that it’s fight or die world. To them, you’re a wealthy European or American and this is business and life’s brutal. That’s what they understand, what they know. It’s a different mindset. With this, we’re giving our customers the ability to speak their language,” he says nonchalantly. “I wish it was that simple,” I respond shaking my head. “It is that simple. This is not intended against innocent people. It’s meant to defend the ship against piracy.” “I want to make sure that, what is being rigged does what it’s supposed to do. I want to see the videotaped test results and findings.” “Don’t worry; we’ll do better than that. We can do a live demonstration once the first one is completed,” he says as he nods his goodbye turns around. The trio leaves my office. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

I cannot believe that four hours passed since I last contacted my wife. It had been a very busy morning. I’m also curious why she hasn’t sent me any text or e-mail. I dial her phone impatiently. It goes to voicemail on the first ring. My heart skips a beat and I dial her office phone. Her assistant Hannah answers cheerfully. “Thank you for calling SIP. This is Hannah, Ana Grey’s assistant. How may I help you?” “Hannah! Where is Mrs. Grey?” “She’s been in one meeting after another, sir. Since she will be leaving for maternity leave, she wanted to get all the meetings out of the way before she took her leave,” Hannah says. “When is her maternity leave starting?” I ask, miffed that she hasn’t told me anything about it, yet.

“She wants to talk to her obstetrician first and I think she wants to delay it as much as she can because we have quite a few books coming up by some of our up and coming authors that Ana has championed,” she speaks in rapid fire mode. “She wants to be a part of the three book launchings all of which are unfortunately on separate dates. Her maternity leave date is not set in stone yet, but we think it may be in three weeks,” she concludes. “She wants to push it to three and a half weeks, or work till the last minute,” she says lowering her voice. That bit of information angers me. “When is Mrs. Grey coming out of her meeting?” I ask. “Currently she’s meeting with Mr. Cooper, the publisher from New York. She’s been in that meeting for just about an hour. She should be done any minute so she can have her lunch,” she says brightly and I don’t like the idea of her meeting that man one little bit. “Have Mrs. Grey call me as soon as she’s done with her meeting,” I say and hang up. I walk back to my desk and buzz Andrea. “Yes, Mr. Grey,” her voice echoes in her usual professional, no non-sense manner. “Get Dr. Greene on the phone for me,” I order. “Mrs. Grey’s doctor? Certainly, sir,” she responds, her voice bristling with efficiency. Within two minutes my line buzzes again and Andrea is back on line. “Dr. Greene is on line two, sir,” she says. I press the blinking line. “Dr. Greene, this is Christian Grey,” I greet her. “How can I help you, Mr. Grey? Is Mrs. Grey alright? She isn’t due…” she says tapping some keys by the sound of it, then having found her answer, “for another four weeks,” she says sounding concerned. “She’s well so far. But, I have another concern. Mrs. Grey wants to work nearly up to the minute she gives birth. You and I both know that she has had a difficult first and second trimester. Now, she’s trying to work harder than ever, not to mention she’s participating in my brother’s and her best friend’s wedding which means she’s spending many hours helping her friend out. She also doesn’t want a nanny for the

baby which means that it will be an additional task she’ll be jumping into without any rest. I am concerned that this is not good for her or the baby!” I utter my exasperation. “Mr. Grey, as a doctor, I can appreciate your concern for your wife’s well-being. But, what you just stated concerns me as her obstetrician as well. It is to her and the baby’s benefit that she doesn’t do too much to avoid stress which is really bad for her health as well as the baby’s. It can induce early labor, low birth-weight, and high blood pressure for the mother. Does she have anxiety, nightmares or physical responses like racing heartbeat or sweating?” I think back about the question. “She has occasional nightmares,” I respond. This has heightened especially in New York and after we got back. But, Ana has less anxiety than I do. “She has racing heartbeat and sweating of course, but that’s totally natural because that’s the reaction I elicit from her when we have sex,” I say with a placid voice. I can feel Dr. Greene smile on the other end of the phone. “That won’t harm her, but if she wants to work, she can generally work up to the due date, but some mothers opt working a week or two before the due date. However, considering she’s putting so much time to help her friend out, that should be taken into consideration. Is she back to full time work?” she asks. “Twenty five hours of office time, but she puts equally long hours working from home as well,” mainly reading and summarizing manuscripts, but she's dedicating a lot of hours. “Oh, dear,” she says disapprovingly. “Mr. Grey, are you coming to her appointment this week?” she asks. I’ve not missed any of her appointments but one since she told me she was pregnant. “Yes,” I respond. “I would like to hear Mrs. Grey, check the baby, and then based on my findings suggest the proper time frame in which she should start her maternity leave.” “Not good enough doctor Greene!” I retort. “My wife is a selfless giver. She wants to help her friend, she wants to fulfill her shoes in her job as an editor, taking on more than her share of the workload to prove herself that she’s her own person all of which I support but she’s doing too much! If you suggest her that she can work a week or two before the birth of the baby, she will take it

as set in stone and continue her regimen. I don’t want my wife to be working so long. She should have the time off, proper rest before the baby comes. She will have her hands full when the baby is here.” “Mr. Grey, I promise to keep all this information under advisement to give Mrs. Grey the best assessment, but I agree with you. During the first pregnancy, we don’t have a history of pregnancies or births therefore it would always be best to play it safe for the health of the baby. That and the mother’s well-being are top priorities over the jobs moms hold or other responsibilities. Please be here when she is, then we can discuss it together.” I feel relief after her implied support. “Is there any other concern you have, Mr. Grey?” she asks and my call waiting beeps into my ear. I look at the caller-ID to see who was calling. It’s Ana! “If I have any other I can think of, I’d surely let you know.” “It was a pleasure speaking with…” she says and I hang up before she finishes her sentence and switch the line. “Ana!” “Hello to you, too, Christian,” she says. “I was worried about you. Why haven’t you called?” “I was busy with meetings, and with a prospective best seller coming up, I was negotiating terms with a bigger publisher,” she says and I know she’s building up to something. “Okay. When is the book launch?” “Oh, that’s the thing. This big one is in 3 weeks.” “Let someone else do the launch then!” I say gritting my teeth. “Christian, I can’t do that! I’ve done all the work, promotions and just struck a deal with a bigger publisher after we meet a certain quota. I’m the one who is running the project!”

“Anastasia! I think you forgot that you’re pregnant with OUR child. That’s a week before the delivery. Am I even allowed to ask when you intend to go on maternity leave or your assistant gets that information before your husband does?” She sighs. “Please don’t be upset, Christian. I was going to talk to you about that tonight. Since I’ve been helping Kate, I have not dedicated as much time as I would have liked to this book, so I need to be working up until delivery. And I’ve read that sometimes first babies can be late up to two weeks!” “Why do you reach decisions without asking me especially one that is as important as this Anastasia?” “Christian!” she sighs. “Because, I know my body and I have this excessive energy and I know you would say no!” “You’re damn right I would!” “There’s so much I want to accomplish so I can devote more time to Teddy when he’s born.” “Ana, that last burst of energy, is just the nesting urge,” I plead with her. She has kept up with her exercises and surprisingly she’s remained very fit and active. But she needs help standing up, she has shortness of breath and she can’t find a comfortable position to sleep. We’ve purchased couple of body pillows to provide her comfort. I hate it that we have to have them between us because I love having my limbs tangled with hers, but I love it that she needs me more in her current state, depends on me, but she’s still fiercely stubborn in her own plans which she goes back behind me to go through with them. “I know, but this is important to me. You want to hand over SIP to me next year. I need to be on top of the ball game.” “Anastasia, I couldn’t give a flying fuck about SIP right now. What concerns me is your well-being as well as our baby you’re carrying.” “Please Christian! Can we discuss this tonight? I’m hungry and cranky! I haven’t eaten in three hours” she says, and discuss it, we will. I don’t want to upset her even though I really really want to punish her for putting not just herself but the baby in danger and protect her from herself, yet that is not a possibility. And I don’t want her to go hungry either. Where do I find the fucking balance? With the fucker who is stealthy as ghost

after her on one hand, my stubborn wife on the other, they’ll be the death of me. Breath Grey, breathe! Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one… My hand runs through my hair in exasperation. “Tonight, Mrs. Grey,” I say. “Thank you, Christian. I love you,” she whispers. I close my eyes with the soft velvet caress of her tone. “And I you, Ana. Go eat, baby. I’ll see you this evening,” I say, hanging up. Old Christian would have rushed to the SIP to resolve the problem immediately. But I have learned to negotiate our disparities differently. Punishment doesn’t work with Ana. But, sex does. So, I devise my plan. If you want to throw the gauntlet, I’d be more than happy to pick it up Mrs. Grey. “Taylor! Lunch!” “Yes, sir,” he says and opens the door. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

All warfare is based on deception. Hence when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces we must appear inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near. Sun Tzu, The Art of War It is the eighth burner phone he went through within the past three months, two more than he anticipated. But it is necessary. They’re used only once. Each one is synchronized to call the corresponding burner in the Boss’s possession. He didn’t think Grey’s team could crack the tablet’s self-destroy code and even though there was always that slight possibility of having it cracked, he had decoy information to lead them elsewhere, but he had not assumed that they could trace it back to him somehow. “What did you say?”

“I said my handler called.” “Your handler?” the Boss asks. “Yes, you know the particular skills I have. And though my handler overlooks my occasional moonlighting,” he said in a dry tone, “he extremely dislikes it when I do it on the home turf especially with such a high profile man who is not going to be off the public view.” “Tell me that you didn’t reveal anything!” the Boss hisses. “Reveal?” he smirks. He’s been tortured in a North Korean camp and escaped the impossible. Alive! This is a walk at the park. “I don’t exist. I’m a ghost. No one can prove anything at all. Apparently your boy’s reach is farther than you had assumed. I’m told that he has a contact who has deep reaches.” “Who is it?” “Another ghost,” who bothersomely felt omnipresent to him, a feeling one he loathed profusely. It was a problem he would rectify soon and the probing of his Handler would go away. Without his personal ghostat his side, Grey had no reach in the depths of a system that didn’t exist in any records known to men except a handful; there were things even Grey’s money couldn’t buy, and this was one of them. He smiled with satisfaction. He didn’t think that it would be too hard for him to discover who it was that was chasing him since he knew the direction he should be looking: Grey’s. Follow his top henchman; he would lead him to the other freelancing Ghost. Then he would eliminate the problem. Just a simple complication. “The handler is just probing with those of us whom they think were on the mainland at the time. I was supposed to be halfway around the world at the time and I was…” he says nonchalantly. He was on a private jet with a flight plan that left out his name or any of his aliases on his way to Hong Kong where he, soon after landing took out a particularly difficult problem for his Handler. Since he had resolved the pressing issue so efficiently with absolute finality for his Handler, he knew that he was an indispensable asset and that single incident gave him the alibi that there is no way they can tie him to New York incident which the Boss is referring to. “Don’t fuck this up! Your head is on the line of fire!” he barked, knowing full well that his ass was right beside the said head that was supposed to be on the firing range.

“I have no intention to fuck it up!” John, the Ghost asset said lowering his voice with absolute determination. It wasn’t just the spectacular payday he was going to get at the end of the task, but it was also the sense of enormous satisfaction in putting -- one of men who thought of himself as an invincible somebody -- in his rightful place which was right under his military grade boots. He would prove Grey his fragility in such an unfixable manner that no amount of his ridiculously colossal wealth could not repair the damage he planned to do his person, crushing his very soul once he was done with him. “I think I have waited long enough for a result and you’ve laid low. I want this done in three, the most four weeks of time,” the Boss said. “Mr. Linc…” “Careful, John!” he warned immediately and added, “Unlike you Mr. Doe, I have one name I own and you are not permitted to utter it!” “As you wish, Boss. The timeline would suit me well. I had gained all the information I need. However,” after the New York cock up, he thought to himself, “I need additional reconnaissance, and that I will gain soon enough. I already know the important dates. I now need to know the locations.” In the next ten minutes, the primary location and its backup were ironed out to the Boss’s satisfaction. On both possible dates, he would have his alibis to distance himself from even a remote possibility of having name associated with what fucking Grey was to experience without getting any of his fingers dirty: Grey’s soul shredding, irreparable defeat and his victory which would only be known to Lincoln. “You got the message you will deliver from me after he is completely fucked up?” “Abso-fucking-lutely!” John replied with a grin. “With my pleasure.”

CHAPTER XXX CONVERGENCE Kiss me hot, heavy, wet & angry with that attitude like you do when

your mouth yells; it hates me but your tongue screams it can’t wait for me. Hug me, touch me, submit to me with that insatiable passion like

you do when you thought you could leave but the sight of my throbbing rock hard love muscle made you too weak in the knees. Your mind is

melting fast, your soul is whispering trust, your eyes are begging please and your anger has turned to lust. Let me undress your body, caress your skin and wetly massage your mind back into making love to me again. I’d rather say I’m sorry and keep my best friend than have this come to

an end. Be encouraged but more importantly…be lethal with your make up love.

“Good evening Mrs. Grey,” says Taylor to Ana as he opens the passenger door to the SUV. Holding her right hand and elbow, he helps my wife into the SUV. I hold her left

hand and elbow to comfortably situate her next to me. She sits beside me holding her sides, breathing deep. “Are you alright?” I ask concerned immediately. Taylor gets back into the driver’s seat starts the vehicle and pulls out of the curb. Sawyer and Miss Tiber drive Ana’s car behind us. Ana takes two more deep breaths arching her back to get a comfortable position and finding it difficult, she sits awkwardly slanting to the left. She holds her index finger up, indicating a minute. “Ana, please, you’re scaring me,” I say particularly concerned and almost forgotten my anger over the maternity leave, but not completely. I will revisit it once I confirm that she is okay.

“He’s lying on my right side and I can’t sit straight. I have to lean to the left so I can breathe,” she says slowly. Then she puts her hands onto her belly after I shake my head buckle her with a loving smile. “He is in the mood to play today and active. But mommy 's getting a bit tired because the playroom is just too tight,” she smiles. Mommy. She already identifies herself as a different being. She's not just my wife anymore. She's also the 'mommy' of my unborn baby. What does that makes me? Daddy. I'm gonna be a daddy! And soon. Am I even ready? Anxiety hits hard. My doubts of my capacity to be a decent father crawl back up to the surface. I want to be a good dad. A dad to our child Anastasia can be proud of. I can be proud of. “See!” Anastasia exclaims excitedly, as she grabs my left hand and places on top of her belly on the left side. This life, inside my wife's womb is my child! Mine! “Yes!” I exclaim automatically. “He’s playing kickboxing or something!” I mutter when I feel his tiny feet push through Ana’s belly as if he’s racing to get out.

“You stay tucked in there a little while longer Teddy,” I whisper towards her belly. “You’ll be here playing soon enough,” I murmur gently. I surprise myself how natural this comes to me. What feared me a few months ago, this tiny being is no longer a hypothetical person. I want to protect him. Fiercely. He too is mine. My family; embodied in the form of my wife and her very protruding belly. Everything I immeasurably love is right here in my grasp and I’m terrified beyond measure to lose them. I hold her tight wordlessly. What I want to say might hurt her and is still not under my control. I need to rein it in. Taylor slows down as the double wrought iron gates open to the driveway lined with trees towards our big house. By the time Taylor drives into the garage, Teddy slows his movements, apparently tired of somersaulting in my wife’s womb. Ana’s face takes the serious, thoughtful look; the look that says she’s getting ready to negotiate and determined to win an argument with me. “How was your day?” she asks as Taylor turns off the SUV. “The usual cut and dry…” “Mergers and acquisitions,” she says smiling, finishing my sentence. “Just a tad more than but, that sums it just about right.” “Christian…” she starts. “After dinner,” I finish it. “Come on; let’s get you inside the house.” “I was going to help Kate this evening. I think we have to let out my matron of honor dress once more,” she says lowering voice. “Not tonight,” I say with finality. “Christian, the tailor is making quite a few dresses for the bridesmaids. I'm growing by the minute and want to be able to fit into mine. With all these bridesmaids, she may not be able to finish mine on time,” she retorts. “Baby, I can get you the best dressmaker in the country and have her or him make you a dress the day before their wedding if necessary. NOT TONIGHT!” I say, “Tonight, you are mine and only mine. I’m not sharing your with your friend, her wedding plans, my parents, your work or anyone else on earth. Tonight," I emphasize, "you are mine

and mine alone.” My words rings with decisiveness and leaves no room for compromise. “Christian, are you trying to pick a fight with me?” she asks with a sigh. Taylor opens the passenger door and slowly helps her out. I quickly come out of the other door and immediately reach to her elbow and gently turn her around to face me. “I’m not trying to fight with you Anastasia! I’m trying to fight for you! Don't you understand? For your well-being, for our baby’s well-being and for you time which clearly has been occupied by Kate and Elliot’s wedding preparations and your work. I think I compromised enough. I want my wife!” I say unequivocally. She sighs, “yes, sir.” She smirks. I was ready for a fight, but her acquiescence takes me aback. “I’ve only been this busy past three weeks. I have to return the favor to Kate for helping me out with our wedding, and I want to…” but she doesn’t finish her sentence; the smirk on her face goes away replaced with tears in a nanosecond. Talk about mood swings from victorious to sorrowful! I panic. What happened? What did I say to trigger this? “Ana, what’s wrong?” I say and she’s panicking by now. “I just need…” she sobs, “just need Gail to fix me some tea… and I’ll be okay,” she sobs louder. Sawyer and Melissa look at Taylor nervously who nods his head for them to leave. They scatter away like rats out of a sinking ship. “Ana,” I say tenderly, my voice a whispering caress, trying my best to rein in my control with all my faculties. What has happened to my wife to elicit this reaction? I have to find out. “Baby, look at me,” I whisper but words are a command. She looks up with tears still streaming down her cheeks in large beads. Her chin quivers and she takes in a shaky breath trying but failing to suppress her sobs. “Talk to me Ana. You are freaking me out. What’s wrong? Did something happen at work?” I am completely in alert mode. We are standing in the middle of the garage among the SUVs and vehicles while Taylor is keeping a safe distance not looking at our direction.

“I don’t know. I had a long day. I’m tired. Mr. Cooper said I look like I’m ready to pop out this baby with a laugh. I’m sure he meant kindly, but it made me realize that I’m fat! I have four more weeks. I’m gonna get fatter.” Then her voice falls into a whisper. “I…” another sob escapes her, “I…” “You, what baby?” I whisper. “I worry that you won’t like me anymore!” she sobs more. I pull her closer to me and hug her tight. That idiotic fucker made my wife doubt herself! “I’m crazy about you and there is not a single hair out of place with you. You are perfect! You’ve lost a lot of weight in the beginning of pregnancy and I want you and the baby to be healthy. You’re changing of course, but in a good way. Okay?” I murmur trying to reassure her. “What if you won’t want me after the baby is born and I’m not as trim as I was? You like stamina, remember?” she asks. I note that Taylor goes crimson but I don’t care. “Let’s go inside and visit Teddy’s room. Look at the big picture,” I say as I lead her inside. “Taylor, have Gail make Ana some tea,” I order stepping into the big house. Once we get to Teddy’s room, Ana’s smile is returned. She runs her hand on the crib and touches the baby clothes. Her nerves have been fragile in recent days, but I had not expected this amount of worry from her. I’m so used to seeing my wife strong, negotiating for what she wants and bolder since we have been married. Yet now, she seems so fragile. Her hands run over her belly protectively. She picks up a book from the bookshelf and then sits in the rocking chair. “Christian…” she says holding the book. I smile and take it from her hand. “Teddy, your daddy is going to read to you now,” she speaks lovingly. “Goodnight Moon?” I ask raising my eyebrows. “The baby is going to be tired of that book by the time he’s born. We've read it nearly every night past three months,” I say smiling. The fact is, this is one of my favorite times. “I think he will adore it!” she murmurs coyly as she pats the chair next to hers.

***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

Mrs. Taylor fixed some of Anastasia’s favorite dishes. Filet mignon au poivre, whipped potatoes and asparagus. “Mrs. Grey, what would you like to drink?” Gail asks. “Christian is having wine. I’ll pretend I’m having wine as well if you could give me some Perrier, Mrs. Taylor,” Anastasia says. She pours some sparkling water for Ana, then I dismiss her for the rest of the night. We eat in companionable silence, but we can’t ignore elephant in the room. “Ana, I want you to get on your maternity leave this week, baby,” I say. I hear her fork clattering on her plate loudly. “I cannot, Christian! I have too much to do, so much to learn before this baby is born,” she retorts exasperated. “Yes, you can. Look what stress does to you! It’s bad for the baby, it’s bad for you! The SIP can be managed properly even if you aren’t there all the time. Phone, internet, and reliable assistants are what you need to keep the reins tightly in your hands. You don’t need to rush, get stressed or exhausted. Please baby, learn to accept help,” I plead with her. “I’m trying to impress you that I can do this Christian, and I’m failing. Because you’re already asking me to relegate it to others,” she says as she viciously wipes her eyes with the back of her hands. Just then her Blackberry rings. She takes a deep breath and answers the phone. “Kate,” she says trying to be as cheerful as possible. “I totally forgot. My schedule has been overwhelming lately,” she says and listens to Kate blabbering on the other end.

“I thought that was tomorrow.” Then I hear Kate’s voice louder. “Ana! You have to get here! I’m sure Christian can handle spending an evening alone. I need your opinion! You’re the matron of honor! My best girl! The tailor is here and so are the caterer with samples, since you are nauseated with a lot of food, I think it’s best that you come and see what will be served! I want everything perfect. I don’t want my matron of honor a.k.a. my best friend throwing up because the smell of food bothered her!” Anastasia rolls her eyes. I extend my hand for her Blackberry. She shakes her head indicating ‘no’. “Anaaa!” I reprimand her. She thins her lips petulantly and hands the phone. “Katherine, this is Christian,” I say calmly. “Anastasia will not join you tonight. She’s exhausted.” “I know she’s tired, but this is important! I can’t reschedule the caterer who is booked months in advance and the tailor is the best and she has too many dresses to fit and we have limited time.” “I’m sorry for your dilemma Katherine. But, my wife is mine tonight.” “Christian Grey! You’ve not met a nearly deranged bride to be. I’m freaking out here. We would not have had these delays if your security guys didn’t insist on vetting everyone that sets foot here. The least you can do is to let,” she says enunciating, “my best friend come.” “My wife,” I say calmly, “is very pregnant. I think that takes precedence over the caterer and the dressmaker.” I can feel Kate’s chagrin over this remark. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry Christian! I’m just freaking out. Of course her health takes precedence over it. I just wanted to get these done…” I don’t want two women balling over. “Kate, I’m sure whatever you choose for food would be fine.” I’d rather order my wife’s food from elsewhere if it comes to it than sending her to place to place like this. “What if I bring the dressmaker to your house?” I walk away with Ana’s phone in my hand far enough after giving a perfunctory smile to my wife.

“Katherine, my wife and I will be occupied most of the night. Alone. We don’t want to be interrupted by you, or the tailor, the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker!” I say remembering from the Mother Goose story I’ve been reading the baby. “But…” “Goodnight to you too, Katherine,” I say hanging up, then turn off my wife’s Blackberry. “So, where were we?” Anastasia asks startling me since she’s standing inches away from me. “You just told my best friend, you and I will be occupied for most part of the night. I’m wondering how you’re intending to occupy me, Mr. Grey,” she murmurs. “You know me, Mrs. Grey. I never reveal my plans. Come,” I say holding her hand and decidedly walking her to our bedroom. “Christian, wait,” she says as we step into our bedroom. “We have not resolved the maternity leave issue.” “What’s there to resolve? You’re leaving this week," I say firmly. “Christian, don’t be highhanded!” she says putting her hand on her hip. “Highhanded? You’ve not seen highhanded yet, baby. I’m just a man who is utterly in love,” I whisper caressing her face, “in lust,” I say as I lower her petulant hand from her hip, “with his wife, whose only wish is to keep her safe, healthy,” I whisper caressing her belly with both my hands, “for her, my and our son’s sake. And yet, my lovely, insanely beautiful wife,” I murmur lifting her chin up, “prefer the company of her coworkers, dressmakers and caterers as opposed to her husband who is desperate for her. Am I someone that undesirable to be around?” I ask. Her eyes go wide in shock. “Christian, how could you think that? I am trying to make you proud of me by learning the trades of publishing business that I’m to be running, trying to fit into the Grey family by participating and helping out with your brother’s and my best friend’s wedding, and, now you’re not pleased with me…” “Baby, I’m always pleased with you. Those who matter the most, are right here. You, this little one, and me. Everyone else in our family matter of course. But they’re secondary. Our first obligation is to one another.”

“You were so angry earlier on the phone. Would you have punished me?” “Nooo! It’s abhorrent to me now. You know that! God, Ana! What am I supposed to do to prove to you that I love you? What you dislike is repulsive to me.” How can I punish my pregnant wife? Even if the idea goes through my head, it later makes me feel like crap. “I want to work until the baby is born.” “You leave three weeks before the due date, baby. Take it or leave it,” I say raising my eyebrows. “Counter proposal, I leave one week before but I work from home to complete my tasks.” I gaze at my wife for a long minute. “You should really come and work for me at GEH.” “I do work for you Mr. Grey.” “Yes, you do baby. Two weeks, final offer. No more than twenty hours until then,” Even that is stretching it. We have to make it look like she is going to work and carrying on a regular schedule with a decoy. “Fine!” she huffs acquiescing. “But, I should help Kate!” “Not tonight, you don’t. Right now, I couldn’t give a flying fuck about Kate or Elliot’s wedding.” “Yes!” she says then her gaze falls to her protruding belly. “God knows I love this baby, but, I feel like I’m the size of an elephant and that you wouldn’t want me this way,” her voice falls to a whisper. “I have nightmares about it, that you walk away from me because I’m fat.” “Baby, you’re gorgeous and pregnant, with my child. I can look at you all day in awe.” “Even when I take up most of the space in the mirror?" she asks turning around looking into the full length mirror.

“I’ll show you, how much I worship you,” I say to her and lift the hem of her dress slowly, adoringly. My fingers run over her legs as I lift the dress of her body. Take me to Church - Hozier Cover “Arms up,” I murmur and she obeys immediately. “I’ve not look at the full length mirror, other than just glimpses,” she admits. “Let’s reacquaint you with your body then. Remember Georgia?” “Christian, in Georgia, I was much much lighter,” she says trying to cover herself with arms. “Baby, I’m going to make you see what a stunning woman you have become. I will show you what I see in you, how crazy your body drives me.” She’s standing before the mirror with her bra and panties on. I unbuckle the clasps of her bra and slowly, reverently drop the straps off her shoulder, then remove the cups caressing her heavy, now much larger breasts. I toss it onto the nearest chair. Then my fingers trail down her arms then up again. I stand behind her and I trail kisses on her shoulders. My eyes close in pleasure; her scent is simply intoxicating. My lips move on a mission and find the crook of her neck. She tilts her head to the side automatically to give me access, her eyes closing in the process. “Eyes. Open. Now,” I command; she opens them her long lashes sweeping up and down as she blinks. Her hair is up on a chignon which gives me access to the back of her neck. She leans against me, completely mesmerized with our image reflected in the mirror. “Why didn’t take your clothes off?” she asks in a low voice. “Because I want you to focus on you, not me. You’re the exquisite specimen.” She sighs. I trail my fingers down on her back and gliding my fingers with just enough pressure to make her aware of my desire, but low enough pressure that she is on full alert to force her mind the feel every stroke. The steady rise of her chest speeds up when I reach her panties. I circuit my thumbs around the waistband and my fingers gently grasp her panties. I slide them down as I lower myself to the ground, lifting her feet up one by one then freeing her from every single stitch. “Do you remember what I once promised you?” I ask.

“N…no,” she stutters. “I promised you that I would worship you with my body. How could that change when you are carrying MY child in your body? It only makes me want to love you, revere you, and worship you more. You’re giving me something I thought I would never want or have.” “But you said, we could have kids before we got married…” “Yes, I know,” I say with a little chagrin. “I couldn’t even think of children with anyone, but I dared to think of the possibility in the hypothetical with you… Then I knocked you up and here he is,” I murmur with a stupid grin. But my face changes to forlorn, “I love you, Anastasia. You must know that. I will love in any shape and form but at this moment I love you the most I ever loved you. You are my miracle maker. And I love him,” I say kneeling before her as my hands grasp her belly protectively. “This little one is mine and yours, ours. He will tell the whole world with his existence that our love created him.” “Oh, Christian!” she gasps, her fingers tangle inside my hair. She tries to lean down to my level, “oh, bad idea, bad idea!” she murmurs making me grin. I quickly stand on my feet and hold her. As I rise to my feet, my eyes focus on the swaying curves of her breasts. They’re more defined, womanly, proud even. Anastasia notices the hunger in my gaze. I caress her breasts with my index fingers gently, feeling, jolting the nipples into perky beads. The pink hue spreading over her flesh eagerly invites me to touch her. I’m hopelessly turned on, seduced and drawn to make love to my wife. “Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?” I murmur as I squeeze her nipples and pull them. A loud moan escapes her lips as she tilts her head back in an allconsuming pleasure. “Please, sir! Show me…” she begs, her hands grasping my biceps in desperation. Her breathing increased, her chest is rising and falling in rapid succession. “Really? Is it up to you Mrs. Grey?” “No, sir, but…” she whispers.

“Hush now,” I murmur as circuit around my wife once with a single digit touching her body at all times, appraising her, assessing her reaction. Her entire body stands to attention.

“Maybe I should deprive you of release since you relentlessly negotiated about your maternity leave. What say you to that?” “Nooo, please Christian!” “Come,” I take her hand and bring her to our bed. “Sit,” I order and wordlessly she obeys. I open the drawer next to my bed and take out few items. I place them on the bed. Anastasia’s eyes follow my every move. I undo my tie and lay it on the bed next to the items I chose. I divest my jacket and place it on a chair. Then I quickly unbutton my shirt and put it on top of my jacket. In the next minute, I’m completely naked. Her gaze takes me in and eats me up hungrily. “See something you like, Mrs. Grey?” I ask. “Yes,” she says in a breathy voice. “Yes, what?” “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now, lay on your back,” I command. She does as she’s told.

I show her the padded sex position sling to her. “I will wrap each of these padded cuffs to your ankles and the leather strap goes over your shoulders. This will make it easy to hold the position for you, baby,” I murmur. It opens her legs up without spending much effort, and aides with her belly. “If it gets uncomfortable at any time, you say stop and I’ll stop. No safe words, okay?” “Yes, sir,” she says in a breathy voice. I wrap the cuffs around her ankles and wrap the sling portion over her shoulders. “Now, raise your hands above your head,” I instruct her and grab the leather handcuffs. Each handcuff is tied to a long leather strap. I tie each of the ends to the headboard posts.

“Now, keep your knees up, you shouldn’t have to exert any effort. Your shoulders will do all the work,” I order. She does as she’s told and effectively opening up her legs even

further apart for my appraisal. I can see her arousal glistening from her sex. I appraise her delicious look with evident lust and barely contained desire. “You know, Mrs. Grey… When I heard that you wanted to delay your maternity leave, I was angry with you. But we removed the punishment off the table, yet I wanted to teach you a lesson so you remember to communicate with me. Here you are lying bare in all your glory before me,” I murmur taking my tie in my hand and deliberately playing with it. "I should perhaps still render some form of reminder,” I tease. “No, sir!” she demands. “Are you really I a position to make that demand, baby?” I ask. “I’m not, sir, but we compromised.” “That we did, baby. So maybe, we’ll compromise here as well. A middle ground perhaps. Not what you want all the way. What say you to that?” I lean down as I trail the tail of the tie over her breasts. “Yes, please,” she whispers. “Good girl. I’m going to blindfold you with this baby,” I say showing her the navy blue tie. She bites her lower lip. “Uh, uh, uh…. No biting,” I order as I release her lip from the captivity of her teeth. “Yes, sir,” she nods with a smile, her eyes fixed on mine. I lean down and gently blindfold her with the tie and then turn the music on and set two tracks on repeat. Jace Everett’s “I wanna do bad things with you,” echoes around our room reflecting my sentiment. Jace Everett – I wanna do bad things with you I take the flogger with softest of the leather strands and run it over my wife’s breasts languorously. A shiver runs through her and goose bumps are on the trail of the leather strands. I continue skimming across her belly, over her pubic bone and finally over her sex. Then I slowly circuit the strand around her inner thighs. I lift the flogger up and with a flick of my wrist move it land the strands on her exposed buttocks. The sting of it I know bites her skin slightly. I repeat the process with just enough pressure

to excite and arouse her more but not to enough power to hurt. Two of the soft leather strands land on her sex, right on her clit. “Ah!” she groans. “Hush baby,” I say as the soft leather rains over her inner thighs waking up all the nerves buried under the adipose tissue, triggering her pleasure sensors. “You, Anastasia, are so beautiful! You turn me on like no one else can!” I trail the strands over her breasts and flick the strands over her nipples. Because of the sensitivity, she’s completely aroused. “Please, sir!” “There. There. There, baby,” I say soothingly. The strands caress her belly once more and land on her sex again three times. Anastasia moans with pleasure tugging on her restraints. “Christian, I need you inside me! Please!” she begs. I rub her buttocks and inner thighs gently then slide two digits inside her glistening sex. She groans. “Baby,” I breathe. “You are so fucking ready.” I slide in and out of her sex, locating her sweet spot and pleasuring her again and again. I toss the flogger onto the floor and I climb onto the bed and between my wife’s legs. Leaning down, I cup one of her breasts and brush my thumb over it with softly. She’s over sensitized and a gentle touch is ready to detonate her around my fingers.

“Ah!” she moans. I entice, and coax pleasure from her breasts where the effects are felt in her sex. The waves start rolling, her inner tissues start clamping around my fingers. Anastasia arches her back pushes her breasts into my palm and she moans my name in utter ecstasy. “Hold, and don’t come yet!” I command and moving my fingers just the right amount of pressure so that she can’t reach her peak. “No… no, sir! I need to!” “Really, Mrs. Grey? Did I say it was up to you?”

“It’s up to you, sir!” “That’s much better.” I continue coaxing her sex, and stimulating her nipples. “I can’t hold it! Please, Christian!” she begs. “What do you want, Ana?” “I want, you, Christian Grey, on me, inside me, all over me!” Then my face moves closer to hers. I move the tie from over her eyes as I hear the repeated words to “Insatiable”. I quickly untie her legs freeing the ankles and rub them. Darren Hayes - Insatiable “You shall have me baby!” I say, “but first I want your mouth. “I won’t release your arms from the handcuffs right away. I just want you to taste me,” I say, and she licks her lips sensually. Situating her with some pillows, her head is elevated. My cock is her eye level and she looks ravenous.

“I only want you to take in the tip,” I order. But my wife is in a ‘I can-do-whatever-thehell-I-want’ mood. Her head works her way, and she takes in half of my cock, her tongue and lips expertly fellating and licking along the way.

“Slow, Ana, slow!” I say as I try to regain control of my senses. “Ffffuuuck!” She’s getting me back. Her tongue skillfully swivels around the crown with enough suction to get the chrome of a car’s bumper. “That’s enough, baby!” I say and start pulling my cock out of her mouth, but she closes her lips right around my shaft making me grin. I thrust forward gently then withdraw my cock out with a suction of her lips. I languorously move down to her sex and slowly insert the tip of my cock pushing it slowly in and out, but not to the hilt. “I want more, Christian! I won’t break!” Anastasia complains and lifts her hips up to meet mine, effectively receiving all of my cock. The pleasure is just too sweet to tease her longer. I still, and savor the moment. Then lowering my body, I capture her nipple within the warm wet captivity of my mouth and suck. I start moving inside her, really moving, harder and faster pounding into her again and again.

“Oh, God! Yes!” she shouts. I know the pleasure is building up in her. Her body is ripe and ready. She clenches deep inside holding my cock like a tight fist, embracing with the sweetest of love. I flex my hips just to prolong the pleasure longer, change the angle of my thrusts but by the time the songs are making their third round since I entered into my wife, I let go, and drill into my wife with renewed determination, making both of us moan, and once Anastasia reaches her peak, her sex starts eliciting all I can give her, I too shout my release in thick spurts deep inside my wife. When we are both breathless and assuaged, I lean down and give her a long and lingering kiss. I pull out then kiss her belly.

I then release her arms from the restraints and walk into the bathroom to clean myself then my wife. I rub the arnica cream I brought from the bathroom onto her wrists, ankles and buttocks with my wife grinning. “Am I that funny, Mrs. Grey?” I ask. “Not funny, just pleasing, Mr. Grey. This is the face of a happy wife,” she says. “I’m glad to hear that wife,” I respond. Finally, I cover her, switch off the music and turn out the dimmed light and I snuggle behind my wife, wrapping my arms around her, pull her to me. “I love you, Mrs. Grey. Sleep now, baby,” I whisper. “I love you more, Mr. Grey,” she says drowsily and she can’t even finish the ‘night’ in ‘good night’ because she’s already asleep.

***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

It had been uneventful three weeks and Anastasia, true to her promise took her maternity leave two weeks ago not because she really wanted to, but she wasn’t able to find comfort in any one sitting or lying position consequently she was tired all time. To take her mind off, she continued to work from home and help Kate with her wedding preparations. It’s the Rehearsal Dinner tonight for Kate and Elliot. I’m the Best Man and Ana is the Matron of Honor. I have to get ready to leave in about 3 hours and all the security measures have to be examined one last time this evening and put to test. There’s a knock on the door and Taylor comes in. “We are ready Mr. Grey. Mr. Pella and the team are ready for the final review,” he says clearing his throat. "What's wrong?" I ask. "I better let them explain it, sir," he responds.

“Fine, send them in,” I order then send the e-mail I had composed for Ros including instructions for the next two weeks since I have to plan for the worst case of scenario. Another knock from my door is heard. I look up. “Sir,” Taylor says as a greeting. The heads of security teams file in consisted of Pella and Decimus, Welch, and Evans who heads Elliot’s security team, O’Neil who heads my mom and dad’s and Citoli who is in charge of Mia’s security team take their place in my office. “Grey,” says Pella shaking hands. “Mr. Grey,” resounds around the room as everyone greets me. Pella looks agitated. I raise my eyebrows to question him. His lips are pursed into a thin line. In fact, all of my security personnel have a similar expression on their faces. “What the fuck happened?” I ask with heightened alert and agitation. “I had a run in with our perp.” “A run in?” I take two long strides, coming face to face with him. The first time I notice his less than impeccable outlook. His tie is loosened and slightly askew, the shoulder of his expensive jacket is torn and he’s dusty like he had rolled around in a wrestling match at a back alley somewhere.

“When the perp stopped chasing Mrs. Grey I had to ask myself why he would do this from the point of view of an attacker. Think of Mrs. Grey as your most valued possession securely contained and protected within your fort. Finding out the exact location that your prize is only half the battle for the perp, because he would have to have a way to break and bypass all the defenses in place. The visible parts of the outer most layer of this defense system are consisted of your security detail. But the security detail is managed by Welch. That’s the first line to breach; that’s the primary command center. When I realized that, I set a perimeter around his office. It turns out, that was a wise choice because a sniper tried to take me out this afternoon.” “What the hell?” I shout, horrified. “Are you absolutely sure that it’s not something related to your business?” “We’re quite sure, sir,” says Welch pointing a spot on his jacket revealing a hole then opens up the flap showing what his life-vest caught. “Thanks to Mr. Pella’s awareness, we’re both here to report this.” Welch is composed and controlled but still wound up with intense anger. “Did you call the cops?” “Of course, not,” Pella says. “Do you think cops who deal with local crimes can handle a hired killer who technically doesn’t exist? This is our problem.” Each face in the room is somber. I pace the room in rapid, angry steps. Then I come back and stop in front of Pella. “I gather that neither one of you were able to catch him,” I state. It’s not a question. “I chased him.” “But you didn’t catch him.” I cross my arms. “No, but I got the next best thing,” he says. “Unless you got his personal phone number and a sure date with him, I don’t know any other information that could be beneficial,” I growl. “I now know who he is!” “How? Who? Are you absolutely sure?”

“Dead sure,” he says with a serious face. “I have been dividing my time in Welch’s headquarters and my temporary office here in the city. Since Welch has the setup I require, it’s easier to coordinate our efforts in the same location. We,” he says making a gesture between himself and Decimus, “have rules in place that any place I go; we have a security perimeter setup. Sweeping a location is not enough if it’s not secured. I always have eyes on the perimeter especially if I’m going to be somewhere sticking to a routine. And this qualifies for a routine. There are quite a few surveillance cameras which we tapped into and have run some software to determine if anyone stuck out or was compatible with the airport image." "You used yourself as a bait?" I ask quizzically. "Yes, better me than Mrs. Grey. Because, I just didn’t know when he would strike. We have confirmed visuals three times today and had not been hundred percent certain that it was our perp. When a male fitting the descriptions went up to the roof of a building at a convenient distance but at the perfect angle for taking aim at someone, we knew we had to pursue him.” That revelation surprises me. I exhale my frustration finally. “How did you know that it was the perp?” “After the first pass, my men informed that a possible suspect crossed the street. I wasn't at Welch's location yet. I conveniently went there late instead of my usual hour. His second pass occurred when I would have normally arrived. My men had followed him with eyes on the sky.” “What?” I ask. Airplane? Drone? Satellite? He opens his mouth to reply. “Wait, I don’t want to know if it’s not legal.” “Oh, even if it was legal, I wouldn’t share my security secrets with anyone,” he grins for the first time. His face changes back to somber again. “When I had arrived after the second sweep, he appeared again; this time with a guitar case in his hand. To the untrained eye, it’s an ordinary case, but the way he carried it, we knew that it was heavier inside. We also knew that if we spooked him, we would alert him to our presence and our knowledge of him being there. So, we had to be careful in our effort to capture him which we knew would be nearly impossible at the distance he was, or do the next best thing which was to gather enough clues to his identity. We were able to do the latter.”

“Can you catch him?” I look at him square in the eye. The confirmation that the perp did not disappear sinks into the pit of my stomach like a thousand pound anvil. I am bristling with nervous energy because here I am ready to take my wife out to an event where there may be possible security breaches, not to mention my entire family will be participating in it! I can’t stop it or avoid going on with our plans or day to day lives with fear. We have to resolve this and fast. “That’s why I’m here.” “Do you have a plan in place to subdue him?” “He made it very personal when he attempted to eliminate me. I’m not big on forgiving and forgetting. I’ll do more than subdue him. I don’t think he intended to be known or fail in his mission in shooting me. That action just reaffirmed my suspicions of his deep level of involvement in ghost operations. He sees me as a threat to himself and his current mission and my ability to prevent him from achieving that end. I got a good look at him and managed to take possession of his long range rifle which is only made by one man and I know the maker. The alias he used coupled with his description gave me the means to create a composite of him and the former spy we rescued from Siberia was able to identify him with a code name he knew. I have men in the field who had effectively verified one of the aliases with the gun-maker who only makes specialized weapons for covert ops.” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Why and how would such a man be going after my wife? “That’s still not a name!” I bark. “I don’t need a name, Christian! Don’t you get it? His real name which he had not used since he joined the service had been expunged from all records as if he never existed. I need people who can identify the aliases he now uses, the way he moves, the way he thinks, and the way he operates. Those are his trademarks now, those are the things that leave a trail behind. And I have those!” I run my hand in exasperation. “Let me see the composite image,” I say and Pella hands me a color image of a man’s face and full body image. So, this is the fucker! The details contain aliases, height, weight, hair color, eye color. I commit the information to my memory. “Did everyone else see this?” I ask holding the paper to the security detail.

“Yes, sir,” answers Taylor. “Were you aware of what was happening?” “I had just been made aware right before coming into your office, sir. Everything must have had happened so rapidly.” “Tell me again why we’re not contacting the police or the feds?” I ask Welch, Pella and finally I turn to Taylor. “Profile as high as yours can bring out deep pocketed information seekers who undoubtedly have informants who might jump at the chance to part with this information. Even with the slim possibility that it doesn’t happen doesn't eliminate the fact that it isn’t hard to hack into the Police Department’s records. He is well versed in technology. It wouldn’t surprise me if he already didn’t do that. The way feds are keeping any and all information about him from us even though we’ve submitted the partial print tells me that it would be hard to know what information this perp is capable of reaching. So, we’re on our own,” Pella concludes. Welch and Sawyer are voiceless. “Welch?” “I hate to agree but our hands are tied, sir.” “All the security is in place. I have placed a number of security details in the wait, ballroom staff as well as those who will be dressed like guests. Should we detect a security breach, we will remove you and Mrs. Grey from the scene,” Pella explains. “What about my family?” Evans, Citoli and O’Neill, after looking at one another turn to Citoli to speak for the group. “We each have an evacuation plan, sir. We are not taking any chances.” “Let’s fucking get this bastard then!” I say. We’re going to leave in less than 2 hours. “Mr. Grey, we will leave as if everything is normal,” Taylor says. “We will have vehicles ahead of us leading the way and behind us. Also a decoy will leave before us going to a different location just to confuse any eyes that may be observing.” I nod. When I get my hands on that fucker, I will beat him to a pulp.

“Welch and I will meet you at the location, Grey. We will leave after we speak to the rest of the security detail,” adds Pella before turning to face Taylor. “Taylor, if I could use your office to change into a less conspicuous suit, one that is not ripped,” Pella’s veiled request is actually a demand of a man who is used to giving orders. “Of course, sir.” “See you in a few hours, sir,” Welch takes his leave and the rest of the group nod and leaves my office. ***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

To my relief nothing out of the ordinary happens at the Rehearsal dinner. But Anastasia gets short of breath and has excuse herself to sit down often because she’s only a week away from the delivery now. To my personal delight, she leans on me often, needing my help and support which I’m beyond happy to provide. She even wanted to leave early to rest so she wouldn’t be as exhausted for the wedding ceremony to fulfill her duties as the Matron of Honor. My mother and sister try their best to honor Kate since it’s the rehearsal for Kate's special day, but neither women of my family could hide their excitement of soon becoming a grandmother and an aunt. I think my wife also excused herself to divert the attention back to Katherine in her absence, but staying long enough to fulfill her duties. A few minutes into the drive to home, she’s having difficulty keeping her eyes open. I hold her tight with her head on my lap rubbing her hair and caressing her shoulders. As soon as Taylor pulls into the garage he opens the door and I make every effort to not to wake my wife up. I gently exit the SUV and pull my pregnant wife into my arms and carry her into our bedroom. I put her on top of our bed trying not to wake her but she manages to open her eyes slightly. “Hi! You carried me in,” she murmurs. “I’m quite heavy now.” Her voice is chagrined. “With our child. You’re giving me a miracle,” I murmur. I help her get ready to go to bed and slipping into my black pajama bottoms, I spoon my wife in our bed, worry lacing my mind like a suffocating noose, I fall into a restless sleep.

***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****

“Please join me in congratulating Mr. and Mrs. Elliot Grey and put your hands together for their first dance as husband and wife!” the Master of the Ceremony announces. Leonard Cohen’s ‘Dance me to the end of love’ echoes around the ballroom among whistles and applauds. Dance me to the End of Love - Leonard Cohen

“Mrs. Grey, would you do me the honor of dancing with me?” I ask leaning down. “Absolutely, sir. Just don’t tell my husband! He would be maddeningly jealous,” she says batting her eyelashes.

“Is that so? If you weren’t so pregnant…” I say shaking my head. She has her way of distracting me from the cares of the world. I spin my wife around the room dancing.

Once the song is over, I take her to our table only to be intercepted by my dad who wants to have the next dance with Ana. As soon as my dad gently leads Ana to the dance floor, my mother approaches. “Sweetheart, is everything okay?” “Yes, mom. Why wouldn’t it be?” I ask. “You and Katherine seem to be avoiding talking to each other,” she asks quizzically. Oh, that. Katherine didn’t want the added security my men provided at the last minute, she also told me that she didn’t appreciate having the backgrounds checked of her family friends invited to her wedding. “I mean, I love Ana like a sister, Christian! But this is overstepping into our personal affair! You don’t like it when others nose into your life! This is my wedding and I am beyond pissed that you are trying to take control over it by exerting your security people and your oversized Rambos into giving the third degree to my family’s close friends!” she accosted me after she arrived to the ballroom. “I’m sorry to have to do this Katherine. If any one of your friends or relatives were treated with anything less than respect, I will immediately dismiss that person." "Well, no. But that's not the point!" She waves her index finger at me. "Unless your finger is injured, Katherine, I wouldn't advise you waving it at me. You are now marrying into the Grey family. Our family has friends and foes. The security is not an excess but a vital necessity. You will get used to it.” I explained calmly. “Elliot," she calls out, slightly raising her voice getting his attention when he was talking to a wedding guest. When he comes near us with all smiles, she demands, "Please tell your brother that I don’t want to get used to his ways! I’m marrying Elliot Grey, not Christian Grey! And Ana may overlook and deal with your overbearing personality, but I won’t have it!” she hisses. "What is going on here, Kate?" Elliot asks confused. "I don't want his security detail here. Period! My parents are quite upset!" “If that’s how you feel Katherine, my wife and I will be scarce as soon as our duties are completed,” I say nonchalantly.

“What? Noo!! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that! I’m just stressed with the last minute additions, Christian! It is stressful enough already without your men adding inconvenience to my guests!” “Kate, Kate, calm down baby!” Elliot tries to soothe her. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Her mother and father come to her side who have been eyeing the exchange between us. “Is everything alright?” asks her mother concerned. “Yes, mom. Everything is fine,” she smiles back at her mother brightly, then taking Elliot's arm, moves away, leaving me standing with her parents. “I’ll ask her to dance mom. She’s upset about the additional security I had to take on board last minute.” I explain. “Oh, Christian, you know this is Kate’s day. You don’t need to be so paranoid about security. Jake Hyde is in prison for many years to come. Ana is safe, we all are! I’m sure you wouldn’t be too pleased if someone else had brought a small army of their security personnel to your wedding. You know Kate’s parents have means to provide proper security. This is insulting to them,” Mom berates me, eyeing less than happy Kavanagh patriarch. “No, mom, we are not safe at the moment.” My voice is barely a whisper. “We have one other threat that we had not been able to identify fully and I have to be vigilant until the perp and the person or persons orchestrating this are caught. Until then, I will offend anyone’s sensibilities to keep my family safe and intact!” My mother gives me a perfunctory smile, not fully comprehending how grave the situation can be if I lighten up. “At least explain it to Kate so her day is not ruined. She’ll understand. She’s family now,” my mom says softly, giving me a light kiss on my cheek. I walk to the dance floor and tap my brother on the shoulder. “May I cut in to dance with my new sister?” I ask. My brother makes a showy bow, then says, “I’ve got my eyes on you little bro!” then grins and gives Katherine a loud kiss. “Christian,” she greets me coldly. I put one arm above her waist and clasp her hand with the other hand.

“Katherine,” I respond just a degree or two warmer. “You look very beautiful. My brother is a lucky man,” I compliment her. “As am I,” she says with a quizzical smile. “Christian, I know you’re not dancing with me to compliment me. So, what’s up?” she gets to the point immediately. Yes, she will make a great journalist someday. “I wanted apologize for any inconvenience the additional security may have caused to your family’s existing security detail.” “It’s more than an inconvenience. It’s an insult to my parents as if they can’t provide the adequate safety for the likes of you. Can’t you see how arrogant and self-important this is?” she asks exasperated. “It’s my wedding Christian. MY parents are paying for it! Not you! I know you love Ana, and I’m so sorry that she had endured what she did with Hyde, but he’s behind bars now. It’s over! You don’t need to give into paranoia,” she says self-righteously. “Do you love my brother?” I ask her. “What sort of question is that? I love him more than anyone I know, more than myself,” she responds offended. “That’s how I would describe what I feel for Ana and yet it’s still not adequate enough description for me. I love her so much that existing in a world without her would be maddening. Yes, Hyde is in prison but we have detected a different, more dangerous threat. I wish I could say that he is only an armed lunatic and that in itself is bad enough, but he’s not. He’s a professional, killing is his profession. He’s relentless, unshakable so far and has even pursued us to New York, easily getting into a high profile event only billionaires allowed to enter and just took shots at two of my high level security advisers only yesterday. Now tell me, would you not take every precaution to protect the one person you love? Protect the safety of your entire family?” I just realize that we stopped dancing. Kate’s speechless and her mouth is agape. Living in a World Without You “What? I…” she clears her throat. “I..." clears throat again. "I had no idea. Is Ana… Are we…” she blinks a few times. “Who is exactly in danger? Ana? You? All of us?” “I don’t know exactly, but my security advisers think that it’s mostly myself and Ana but we don’t want to take chances by relaxing security for the rest of my family until this

blows over.” Ana and my dad walk towards us. The song they have been dancing must have been over. “I had the pleasure of dancing three dances with lovely Ana,” my dad says, "but I think she would like to sit down now." “Someone has been somersaulting with the music,” Ana adds smiling then she takes in the matching somber expressions on both of our faces then her face falls with worry. “What’s wrong?” she asks. “Did you know what was happening Ana? Why wouldn't you tell me about it? I was berating you Ana! I’m so sorry for ranting at you earlier for the security around!” Kate says in a fast pace holding Ana’s hands looking at her confused face. “What?” Ana asks. “I had no idea there were death threats or that Christian’s security personnel was shot at yesterday! Here I was being selfish at the inconvenience of the added security because they were under the wedding planner’s way!” I could kill Kate for this! She fucking can't keep her mouth shut! “What? Who got shot, where? And who is…” she looks up at me disappointed. “You tell Kate that I am danger, or you’re in danger, and our security was shot at?” Her look says it all. ‘Why wouldn't you tell me?’ Disappointment and hurt is written all over her face. “You didn’t know!” Kate is horrified as her hand flies to her mouth. “Why wouldn’t you tell her? She has a right to know if her life is in danger!” “Perhaps, we can discuss this some other time,” my father says as he takes Kate’s arm. Luckily, everyone seems to be dancing with the loud music and live band and we look like we’re having a lively family chatter. Anastasia holds her back in pain. A trickle of water drips between her legs and puddles at her feet. “My water broke!” Her voice is anxious, worried and her face is crumpled with pain. “That’s exactly why she wasn’t told!” I hiss at Kate as I sweep my wife off her feet.

“Taylor!” I shout and before the word is out of my mouth, Taylor and Melissa are already with me. “Sawyer is bringing the SUV around,” he says. Mom, Mia and dad rush behind me. “What’s wrong?” Mia asks. “Show time!” Melissa answers. “What?” Then the realization must have dawned on all of them. Excitement brews. “The baby’s coming?” “Yes!” I say as Taylor and Melissa parts the dancing crowd towards the exit. The baby is coming at the middle of fucking wedding!