Christian

III I collapse in a chair by her bed. Then gently hold her hand with no attachments, and bury my face in it. ―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 halfmoon 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 trouble-maker, I‘ve-got-my-eyeson-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 fortyfive 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. ―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. 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 ‗are-youfor-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 selfdeprecation; 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 twentyfour 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.

IV ―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. ―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 halfsmile. 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 shedevil.

―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! ―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 antigun, 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. 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 prickteasing, 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.

V 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. 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 selfcontrol 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 ex-army 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 13th through 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 epitaph. ―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! 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.

VI 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. ―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 smartass 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, allconsuming 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. 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 safeword 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 selfimage, 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.‖

VII 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. ―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 anti-vandal 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 grayscale 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.

VIII 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‘tfuck-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-abitch. 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 tshirt 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 t-shirt. 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 epitaph. ―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. I leave Anastasia when she‘s deep asleep, and go to my study to work. When I‘m finished with the emails, 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. 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 ß---- 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. ―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.

IX 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 icecream 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. ―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. Bu 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 breath. 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 AfricanAmerican 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 here 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 ot 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. Wednesday, July 31, 2013 BOOK IV - Chapter IX - Christian and Anastasia FanFiction 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 icecream 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. Bu 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 breath. 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 AfricanAmerican 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 here 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 ot 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 ad 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?‖ ―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.

X 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. ―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!‖ ―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-inlaw, 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. 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-you-going-to-tell-methis‘? 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 are?‖ 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 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 her daughter‘s love with money, possessions or wealth,‖ he says 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 people you love. You endure some people you don‘t necessarily like for the sake of those you love. You did 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 to 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.

―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 thought 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 grown 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.