Monday, October 29, 2012

BOOK III - CHAPTER III - Christian and Anastasia FanFiction


As I slam the door to the Playroom I walk in brisk footsteps to my bedroom. Mrs. Jones cooking in the kitchen and “Mr. Grey, the dinner will be...” she says and noticing my naked state, she shields her eyes with her hand turning her head, trying to gain her composure, clearing her throat, “oh, dear,” she squeaks in a slightly high pitched voice, and I see Taylor’s shocked expression who is standing in the great room. He gains his composure first, and says “Gail!” rather forcefully and nods his head asking her to leave the room. She retreats in quick steps.

“What!?!” I seethe with anger at Taylor.

“Nothing, sir,” he says slightly shaking his head, half amused half annoyed.

I walk into my bedroom still angry... beyond angry, raging mad, I pace around. I walk outside again. Taylor is surprised once again to see me naked, but he’s not shocked this time.

“Taylor, find Bastille! 3 hour session, at my gym. Have him meet me in 30 minutes,” I order and walk back to my bedroom without waiting for his response.

I walk into the shower and turn the water on full blast, and walk under it. The initial full blast of cold water jolts my senses back into me, and does something to turn down the fire a notch. Gradually, the water heats up, and relax my tense muscles. I reach up for the shampoo and start washing my hair rather forcefully. Why won’t she obey? Why is it so hard for her to accept that I am only trying to protect her? I stand under the water closing my eyes, letting the shampoo run down my back in lazy rivulets.  I feel her fingers slowly, and hesitantly touch the back of my arm, making me tense.

“Christian, don’t be mad,” she says softly. I say nothing, closing my eyes.

My other arm reaches to her hand, and I find myself saying, “Don’t,” rather forcefully breaking her connection with me. I’m still fucking mad. Shit! I know she’s disobedient...a lot. I know she’s refreshing in her witty ways, but hell, this is marriage! She should know better. What else will she delete from the vows? I turn around, and her face is fallen; she looks hurt. Shit! That’s not what I want. I want her to understand me.

“Christian, why is this a big deal for you?” she asks softly.

“Are you shitting me, Anastasia?” I say locking her in place with my blazing gaze. I’m breathing through my nose, like a raging bull.

“Do you have any idea of the purpose of the wedding vows, and what you’re denying me?”

“What am I denying you?” she asks as if I slapped her.

“The vows are derived from marriage contracts which mean they’re all the rights and responsibilities conferred upon marriages.”

“Christian, surely you must realize that the only rights and responsibilities are not limited to a few lines couples say during the marriage ceremony. I think the couples acquire thousands of rights as a result of the ‘marriage contract’,“ she says making air quotes, “and there is no possible way to cover all of them during a wedding ceremony. I’m betting that it’s a lot longer than your submissive contract,” she says.

 I try hard to stifle a smile. I have to focus and hold onto my anger and not give into her charms. “I mean, I think we can declare our love and mutual respect and to care for each other no matter what the circumstance. That’s why I wanted us to write our own vows. Because we’re unique. We don’t mold into ‘one size fits all’ category,” she says looking at me expectantly. She’s trying to distract me from my goal. She’s good at that; whenever she finds me saying something she disagrees; she finds a way to distract me. It won’t work this time.

“Tell me Anastasia, what other ‘one size fits all’ requirement from the vows are you intending to delete? I want to know...” I look at her with an impassive gaze, I feel nothing but.

“What do you mean?” she asks defensively.

“I mean the vows are simple: All you have to say is I, Anastasia Rose Steele, take thee, Christian Trevelyan-Grey, to be my lawful wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth. I want to know, what other words in these vows offend you greatly? Is it, ‘for better or worse’, or could it be ‘for richer or poorer’... or how about, ‘in sickness and in health’? How about ‘love’? Or ‘cherish’? There is also ‘till death do us part’...” I say my gaze darkening. I close the distance between us trapping her to the shower wall with my hands firmly placed on the wall next to her shoulders, barely touching, so close, so hot, so desirous, yet so distant. “Tell me Ana,” I whisper near her ear, “...Is there an expiration date on your love? Tell me Anastasia, I want to know!” I say trying to hide my hurt; my eyes are dark with passion with her close proximity.

“You are an ass, Christian!” she says hurt trying to push me away with her palms firmly placed on my chest but I won’t budge.

“I know! I’m worse than an ass! I’m a fucked up son of a crack whore! Is this why you won’t say it? You don’t find me worthy of obeying? Believe me baby, I’ll take you any way you are willing to give me, but, this torturing me inside! Why Ana?” I look at her begging. “Why, won’t you have me in all the ways I am? You just want to pick and choose?”

She stops pushing me, anger and hurt replaced by concern. Her hands reach up to my face caressing, my fucking body is so in tune with her touch I find myself leaning in to her caress and close my eyes.

“Christian, it’s not about you! It’s about me.” My eyes open blazing as if she slapped me; I take couple of steps back to look at her incredulous.

“Fuck, Ana! How could that not be about me? Are you not marrying me? So how could this be about you?”

She takes a slow step forward, and I hold my hands up to halt her coming closer. She sighs, tries to hide her hurt.

“Christian, this is about me, about keeping my individuality. You are... you know, you! This megalomaniac who is always in charge, always in control, always opinionated... And I love that about you, but in the other hand, this is me,” she says her right hand firmly placed between her breasts on her chest.

“The girl you fell in love with has her own opinions. I want to please you, but I want to!” she says fervently. “Can’t you just accept me as I am?”

I run both my hands through my wet hair, sighing in complete exasperation. I mentally count. Ten...nine... eight... seven... six... five... four... three... two... one...

“All I’m asking you is just to consider saying it Ana. That’s all I ask,” I say as my gaze hot with raw emotions I had no idea I was capable of possessing, connecting with her eyes asking her with a plea.

“I have a session scheduled with Claude. You have to eat dinner by yourself,” I say as I walk out of the shower grabbing a towel.

“Oh!” she says. “I’m going to meet your mother and your sister. They wanted to run some of their ideas by me,” she says in a murmur.

I turn to her lightning fast. “When were you planning to tell me?”

“Just now,” she says slowly. Your sister called and left a message when we were... uhm, in the Playroom.” I let out a lungful of air.

“Make sure you eat before you go! And no driving! Take Sawyer with you!” I order.

“Uhm... about dinner...” she starts speaking and I know she wants to skip eating dinner.

“Right, there!” I say rather forcefully pointing an accusatory finger at her. “That’s what I’m talking about, Anastasia. You never listen even though I’m looking out for your own interest because you are unwilling to do it!”

She sighs exasperated, getting angry.

“Are you done, Mr. Grey?” she says putting her hands to her hips. Those hot hips, her lifted elbows, and tossed back arms like she’s doing now, does something to her breasts lifting them up in protest. The slight chill in the bathroom perks her nipples up. I shake my head to get it out of the gutter if I want to focus. My fucking dick is betraying me with his halfcocked gun salute! Anastasia tries to hide her smile and look stoic and her voice gets huskier but she tries to focus on her anger.

“Your mother and your sister who are working on planning our wedding,” she emphasizes, “asked me to come and taste some food samples a caterer will be delivering to your parents’ house. If I eat now, I won’t be able to totally enjoy the food, and I may not be able make a taste distinction to decide on a full stomach, Christian. It’s not because I’m trying to defy you. And this is what I’m trying to tell you. If I obey you 100% of the time, like now, eat and go, then I won’t be able to make a good decision on food later. You have to trust my judgment as well.  Can we at least agree on that?” she asks.

I exhale my exasperation.

“Take Sawyer with you... I’ll have work out, and later I have a lot of work to catch up with. Call me when you are ready to come back,” I say and walk to my closet to quickly dress up in my sweats. I’m too wired up, and too stressed. Fuck! She will not obey! Ever, or some of the time? How can I change her mind?

Can she be truly mine if she doesn't obey? I want her every fucking way possible! I crave her to belong to me. If she doesn't completely recite all the words of the marriage vows, doesn't it void it some way? Fuck! I'm losing my mind! She appears at the closet door partially dressed, in those black boy shorts, and lacy bra. Fuck! How I want to have her and give her a lesson in obedience! I'll go overboard... I want to be close to her now, but I can't. I have to leave! She watches my every movement.  She wants to say something... She hesitates.


"What?" I snap, and instantly regret it. I'm too jumpy. She can get me riled up with one word, or a glance. I soften my gaze on her. "What, Ana?"

"Wouldn't you want to taste the food that would be served in our wedding?"

"I have more pressing business, tonight. I know you and my mom and sister are capable of making great choices. I trust your judgment. I'll have to pass this detail," I reply.


"Ana, I just want you! I wouldn't care if you decide to serve cheese and crackers, and tea! Well, I'd order wine, but, tonight is not a good night for me. It's just been a stressful day. You go and have fun. But make sure you call me before you leave, and don't stay too late."

"Don't be mad at me..." she says in a soft tone.

"Anastasia, I'm not mad. I'm furious. All I'm asking you to say is one fucking word, and you won't do it!"

"It’s a big word, Christian. I'm not saying it!"

"The hell you aren't!"

"In that case Christian, I'll see you after you beat the shit out of Claude Bastille, because I don't want to be on the receiving end of that anger. I have to go!" she says and turns around angrily.

"Why are you turning your back to me?"

"Really, Sherlock! You couldn't figure that out? In case you haven't noticed, I'm not your submissive, and I'm not going to sign up as a submissive, because saying that word will always trigger those thoughts. I want to be your wife. Not your sub!"

"Fuck it, Anastasia! You have never been my sub! You will not be my sub. How can I explain it to you? I have to have control. I have to know you are safe! I have to know that you will take enough precautions to heed my concerns over your well-being. How can I achieve any of those if you do not listen to me and obey me? And! You make me feel helpless!" I utter exhausted.

"We'll talk about this when you are more rational Christian..."

“Anastasia...” I say in a soft voice... too soft to be confused with anything other than anger.

“I really, really want to take you over my knee, and punish you...” I say.

She looks at me with a little apprehension and a little anticipation, but shakes her head deciding against whatever she was thinking.

“Well, Mr. Grey I would love to indulge both you and me...but when you have calmed down, we’ll revisit,” she says and walks away.

What the hell just happened? This woman, my woman, the owner of my heart and soul says less than two sentences and my fucking world is upside down, and I am incapable of knowing which way is up! Fuck! I'm losing control, and we're not even married yet! Fuck! Where the hell is Bastille?

I walk out into the living room where Taylor is waiting, and he looks like he's going to deliver some bad news. I think I've already reached my limit today.

"Mr. Grey, Bastille is out of town..." he starts.

"What?" I snap, I pace within three foot radius making Taylor uneasy, and stop right in front of him.

"Where the hell is he?"

"He was visiting his sister. Today is not his usual day for your workout. He is on his way back, but it'll take him about three hours or a little less depending on when he leaves... Should you wish sir, he'll meet you in three hours."

"Three hours... three hours... Three fucking hours!" I'm either having a heart attack, or a panic attack. My heart is pounding, my chest hurts, and it's getting harder to breathe. There's an awful pit in my stomach.

Anastasia comes out dressed up in her plum dress that I like so much which hugs her curves at all the right places.

"Sawyer!" I call and he comes out to the living room.

"Take Miss Steele to my parents' house. Call me when you get there, and text me when you're leaving."

"Yes, sir," he replies.

"Bye Christian, I'll see you tonight," she says and gives me a chaste kiss right on the corner of my lips. As she's taking a step away to go; hating the distance between us, I grab her hand by the wrist, and pull her forcefully to me and she's flush with my body. I take her face in my hands and kiss her passionately. I'm not one for public affection, but I desperately want her to know that she's mine, that I desire her to be mine in every fucking way possible! By the time I'm done kissing her, we're both breathless.

"Uhm...” she says swallowing, flushed tomato red, "I'll see you later tonight."

"Yeah. I'll be working late."
(I love you and I hate you – Pride and Prejudice)

She and Sawyer disappear into the elevator, and the doors close.

"I'm running to Flynn's," I say to Taylor without a preamble.

"If you give me two minutes I will join you in your run. But, I must insist that you let me drive, sir."

"Taylor, I need to be on the move, I want to run."

"I'll run with you sir."

"I'd rather be alone, Taylor!"

"Mr. Grey, paparazzi has camped ten mile radius of Escala, sir. And they've been camping all around our regular route to catch a glimpse of you or Miss Steele. Since we have had two encounters today, I would highly suggest that I drive you sir, or at least let me run with you."

"Fine! Suit up!" I say like a petulant child.

Taylor is nothing if he's not an efficient man. Without wasting an extra word in the discussion, he turns around and runs to his quarters to get changed. I take out my Blackberry and dial Flynn.

"Good evening, Christian," he answers the phone at the second ring.

"Flynn, I'm have to see you in your office. Meet me in twenty."

"Well, Christian, it so happens that I haven't left my office yet. But, let me call my wife and inform her I'll be late since this isn't your scheduled session."

"Fine," I say and hang up.

As I make my way to the foyer, Taylor comes out.

"Mr. Grey, let's take a different route to Dr. Flynn's office this time. Sawyer had to elude some paparazzi as he was driving..." he says and I cut him off.

"Are they okay? Is Miss Steele alright?"

"Yes, sir. Nothing he couldn't handle. I suggest that we take the back exit," he says and waits for me to lead the way. “It was nothing like this morning, and your talk with the press this afternoon dispersed the larger crowd. These are probably the late comers.”


We exit Escala from the delivery door, and run to Flynn’s office. I’m so fucking wired up, I find myself running as fast as, or even faster than Taylor, who is faster than a greyhound. My mind is examining through hundred different scenarios how I can make Anastasia see sense. Punishment is fucking out! I don’t want her to leave me and I’ll feel like shit, if I hurt her. Fuck! She’s more stubborn than a Missouri mule! She’s my match! She kicks my ass mentally...every.fucking.time! I stop in my tracks, and Taylor who’s been speeding, runs ten steps before he stops to jog back to me.

“Is everything alright sir?”

“Yes,” I reply absently.

I haven’t tried everything yet. She can’t resist me. I can’t resist her for that matter, but I have more control over my desires. How can I punish her in bed? Orgasm denial? It’s a standard tool. Over-sexing her? She desires me as much as I desire her. Deny her sex as a punishment? She initiates sex with me as often as I do with her. That’s one thing we have no problems with. It’d be a cold day in hell if anyone would dare to keep me away from her body; it’d be a torture for me as well to deny her sex, because I’d be clawing my own fucking skin! What to do? What to do? Maybe Flynn will have some answers. Or not...

As we reach Flynn’s office, Taylor opens the door to his lush office. His secretary is already gone home for the day. John comes out of his office with a casual outfit.

“Hello Christian,” he says.

“John,” I reply.

“Taylor,” he nods at him in greeting with a warm smile.

“Evenin’ Dr. Flynn,” replies Taylor with an impassive face.

“Well, shall we Christian?” he says pointing the way to his office with his extended hand.

“What brings you here this evening Christian?” he asks once we walk into his office, and he closes the door behind me.

“John, I’m falling apart here!” I start.

“I see... Wedding jitters? Second thoughts? Problems at home? I need a little insight.”

I pace around his office and John’s gaze patiently follows my movements. I’m breathing hard. Finally I walk to his desk and lean down with both my palms placed on his desk which Flynn notices and jots down something into his leather covered tablet.

I take a big gulp of breath as if my lungs can’t get enough of it.

“Anastasia won’t obey me!” he looks up at me patiently.

“Elaborate...” he says simply as if he’s just met me.

 “The fucking wedding vows! She won’t say the traditional wedding vows! She wants to write her own!”

“Why do you see this as something wrong?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I don’t kid when I’m in this office, Christian. You know that,” he says ignoring my meaning.

“Control is very important to me. I need it, and God knows she needs it! She has no self-preservation sense when it comes to her well-being. It terrifies me! I am having panic attacks! I thought it was stroke or heart attack or something! She makes me feel helpless. I feel like a caged wild animal,” I explain.

“Do you feel that she confines you?” he asks and I snort. I weigh the nuances of the word in my head.

“What I feel is this enormous desire to protect her. What I feel is that when I’m in her orbit, or she’s in mine, I don’t know which way is up.”

“If she says she’ll obey, what do you think that will make you gain in your marriage to Anastasia?” he asks.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’ll be protecting her better! I’ll know she’s safe because I will know what to do...”

“By that token, do you mean that she doesn’t know how to protect herself?” he asks.


“I see. Has she ever been in any kind of accident? Has she taken risks that are harmful to her well-being?”

“I don’t think she’s ever been in an accident,” I answer considering the question. “That one time she drank excessively and...” I pause not willing to give him more on that. “But there are other things. I dropped her off to work this morning with expressed order that she is not to leave SIP building, and the first thing she does is to leave the building. She goes to a deli nearby with Sawyer, and she was ambushed by paparazzi in the bathroom of all places! Had she just listened to me, this could have been all avoided. She was frantic, as was I!”

“Yes, but what she did, going to a deli to get something to eat surely isn’t something out of the ordinary. People do that every day. Why is her safety such a big concern to you Christian?”

“Isn’t your wife’s safety a concern for you?” I turn the question back to him.

“One’s family is always a concern, Christian. But my wife is an adult woman. She knows what to do. I have to give her that trust. Sometimes women are stronger than we give them credit for.”

“You don’t understand...” I say sagging into the leather chair, leaning down, my elbows on my knees, I capture my face in my hands. I feel the onslaught of thoughts weighing me, and giving me a headache.

“I love her excessively! Better than my own life. I can’t bear to live in a world where she didn’t exist because I couldn’t protect her properly. My life is complicated, John. More complicated than yours or a lot of other people’s. What she had before she was with me was simple and uncomplicated. I come with a 747 shitload of fuckeduppedness she has to deal with! It could be my past that could harm her. It happened before. With Leila nearly...” I stop unable to bring the rest of my sentence. “Surely, you know better. You’ve been treating her.”

He nods his agreement for the first time, however imperceptivity.

“Christian, you’ve isolated yourself from the world that’s surrounding you and put layers upon layers to keep that distance. You want to include Anastasia into that bubble, and protect her,” he summarizes.

“Yes!” I sigh.

“However...” he adds, “you would be excluding her from the world she’s been a part of.”

“I want to be her world!” I exclaim.

“The gilded cage. But do you think that’s what she wants? “

My eyes go wide in uncontained fear. I blink to clear those thoughts away.

“She said she wants me,” I repeat in a soft voice.

“She wants Christian, the man. Maybe, not Christian the cage. What would be a happy middle ground for both of you?”

“There’s no middle ground! If I have to protect her and care for her, it must be my way.”

“Well, given the fact that you are here, I gather that she’s not agreeing to your terms, Christian. Therefore, a happy medium is a must. So, tell me, how can you compromise?”

“I don’t think I can... Not when it comes to her. I can’t lose her.”

“Christian,” he says in a soft, but almost chiding voice. “You cannot control the world you live in. Despite the fact that you have layers upon layers of protection, you’ve noticed that things happen without our control. There is a reasonable limit when it comes to those we love. Because if you are pressing too much, it will become overbearing, and you’ll suffocate her. I know that would defeat your purpose of happily keeping her in your life.”

I know that to be true. Anything that could get her out of my life, or make her cold to me, would kill me! Agony grips me in the guts and squeezes tight. I shut my eyes for the pain to subside, my hands fisted on my lap.

“I would hate myself if I turned her off. What do I do, John? How do I protect her?”

“We’ll find the answers together. But let me ask you this first. What exactly offends you if she has actually written her vows? Do you know what she wrote? Is it unsatisfactory to you?”

“I haven’t seen it... Not yet anyway. I don’t know if she’s finished it, or still working on it. She just sprung it on me today.”

“Christian, let’s examine one other pressing issue that neither one of us has mentioned today. Besides your concerns over her safety, which I can see is monumental; but I think there may be a subconscious reason, one you haven’t given much thought about.”

I look at him narrowing my eyes. He knows that I know what he’s thinking.

“Do you want a submissive in Anastasia?”

“No, I don’t...” I rack my brain for an honest answer. “Not anymore. I know she doesn’t want that, and anything she doesn’t want is like the bubonic plague to me. I’d do anything to avoid it; but had she wanted it, I’d go out of my way to make her happy, and fulfill her desires. And the fact that I’ve explored things with her I didn’t know was possible in the past, you know, incorporating love and sex and now her touch, I find myself craving those feelings like a starving man in an all you can eat banquet! She’s made me taste emotions, desires, and passion I didn’t know existed. It was all possible because of her. I felt the fucking nirvana! And she’s more than willing to accommodate me and loves my kinky fuckery...” I say unable to help myself but smile.

“Alright...” he says pausing. “Do you think that any of your submissives within the limitations of your “submissive contract” could have achieved this with you?”

“Never!” I reply and add, “But this also brings the other worry I have: she’s one of a kind. She’s priceless. She’s got no equal. If I lose her, I lose myself,” I say fervently. “Doesn’t anyone protect what’s so priceless?” I ask unblinking.

“Yes, but you must observe limitations with people. They’re not artifacts. You must work within their character traits. Anastasia is a vivacious woman. Strong-willed, like you. And by your own admission, she loves you unconditionally. There is a list of character traits that makes up Anastasia. My question in the end becomes, everything she’s offering you in your upcoming marriage... her love, her body, her ways, her own brand of character...” he stops letting it all sink in. “Are they not enough for you to live with? Would you love her any less if she disobeyed you? Would you not want her if she didn’t say she’ll obey?”

My heart stops for a few second with the impact of his words.

“I want her any shape and form she’s willing to have me! But I can’t get rid of this fear in me, gnawing at my soul, I have a pit in my stomach, and I find myself restless thinking about it. I’m going out of my fucking mind! How do I stop this? I have to have control! But, I can’t live without her even in the hypothetical.” I sink back into the chair again.

“Christian, all these years, you’ve taught yourself rather grudgingly by Elena that in order to have control of your life, you must control your surroundings. In business it may hold true. In relationships however, if you exceed the allowed limit, then you run into you your Hard Limits,” he says. Now, he’s talking in terms I can understand.

“Can you consider obedience as her Hard Limit?” he says, and I blink.

“John, I’d rather think of it as her Soft Limit and see how we can work around it. She obeys in the bedroom; in fact she rather enjoys it immensely, I just want to expand it to other things in our relationship,” I say petulantly.

“Do it to an acceptable degree. But then, I’m not your partner in this relationship. Anastasia is. She would be the best one to give you this feedback. But now you have a workable starting point.  This is the first real relationship you have, Christian. She isn’t going to behave the way your subs did,” he says and I snort.

“But the joy in that this type of relationship is that whatever she gives you is willingly given. You haven’t ordered her to give it to you. She wanted you to have it,” he explains.

“John, if it was at all possible, I’d be merged with her all the time. Not just sex, fucking, making love, but be in constant contact with all of her! Hold her, touch her, kiss her, wrap her in my arms,” I say fervently, “Although just fucking is reason enough. Her words are capable of caressing my soul as if she dipped her hands into my heart. At the same time, they’re also are also capable of wounding me, branding me, searing me from inside out! You see, we’ve never had problems with physically giving to each other. God knows, it’s one department we’re completely satisfied, but I’ll always have this sharp pang in my side, and be anxious until I know she’s completely safe. That’s one feeling I can’t get rid of.”

“Talk to her, and compromise,” he says. I do not like the sound of that word.

I stand up from my seat and exhale loudly. “I can’t yet John. I’m not ready,” I say. As I go to the door to take my leave, I turn around, “how’s Leila’s progress?”

“She’s coming along well. Following directions, taking her medication and showing interest in some art classes.”

“Good,” I say absently. “Keep me updated.”

“Oh, she wants to speak to you. I told her that it’s taking several steps back in her progress. But, since you asked me to pass all the information pertaining to her, that’s what she asked.”

“Why the fuck would she want to see me for?”

“She didn’t say.”

“I don’t want to see her! I haven’t forgiven her for putting a gun to Anastasia’s head either! She needs to remain in mental care facility until she’s well enough to travel to her folks in Connecticut. I don’t want her in the west coast, not near Anastasia. Not now, not ever! Pass that on. Once she’ll well enough to travel, I’ll pay for her travel, care, medical and schooling. But, my condition is that she is never to come close to Anastasia. Ever!”

“Did you want to speak to her or see her? She asks for you every time I see her.”

“What the fuck for, John? I don’t give a shit that she wants to see me. I have Anastasia in my life. I’m not going to jeopardize my relationship with Ana because Leila is too fucked up, and wants to see me. I’m doing what I’m supposed to do for her, but in return she’ll have to move on.”

“Alright, I pass your terms, Christian. And remember, just talk to Ana.”

“I’ll do what I can, John,” I say sighing, and walk out; Flynn follows me to see me to the door. Taylor is waiting. His face is impassive.

“Bastille will be at the gym in the next half hour, sir. Do you want to head there?”

“Yes,” I say monosyllabic.  And we run.


“Fuck Grey! You’re a top level fighter, but something is off today. You’re aggressive but, you’re not completely here. I need your mind here, and now! You should never leave your penthouse without your brain attached to your head! Come on man! I kicked your ass seven times in the last...”he says looking at his watch, “twenty six minutes; by the looks of it a ten year old could kick it! Get it together!” Bastille scolds me.
(Claude Bastille)

“Fuck off, Bastille!” I reply.

“I’d love to Grey, but I don’t swing that way,” he says trying to lighten the mood. “Here’s what we’re gonna do, man! We’re going to do a conditioning circuit since all the bruises I could give you won’t heal until after your honeymoon. I don’t want your fiancée hating me because I damaged your girlish figure. Let’s begin with heavy low-repetition exercises. Right now weighted pull-ups followed by plyometric movements like medicine ball smashes and then weighted plunges sound good to me. We’ll go with 10, 10, 10. We’ll improvise as we go.” When I head to the bars, he says, “No, I have a different warm up on the treadmill in mind. Get the treadmill to the highest speed and highest incline you can handle. I want it in a way that you can’t maintain your pace for more than 30 seconds.”

“I’m game,” I say determined.

“Jump on and sprint all out for 20 seconds! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!” I give it all I got.

“Now jump your feet to both sides and rest for only ten seconds then jump back on for twenty seconds, then rest for ten, and jump for twenty. This is a repeat for 10 short sprints!”

“Tabata intervals?”

“Exactly! Go!” I jump, sprint on the treadmill for twenty seconds, and then rest for ten seconds on the side and go for twenty seconds, and jump for ten second rest again. Without any stop after I complete the tabata intervals he’s already picked the next two weight training exercises. He quickly ties 60 lbs. of weighed chain around me, and put me on the bars to do pull ups.

“Go for ten, Grey!” he orders and I pull myself up.

“Pull all the way up, Grey! I wanna see your shoulders above the bars! Knees bent! Lift those legs up! Keep it up there for two seconds! Four... Five... Six... Seven... Eight... Nine... Ten! Jump down! Take the weights off!”

I shred off the chained weighed around my torso.

“Now run to the medicine ball! Ten slams, Grey!” he orders as I try to make my way quickly to the medicine ball, “I ain’t getting any younger here! Ball above your head! Lift it up! Good... Make sure you rise on your toes like you’re Kobe Bryant and you’re going to toss your three pointer, except that you’re going to slam that ball with all you got!” I mentally count it.

“Speed Grey, speed! That’s it. Seven... Eight! Nine! And ten!”

“Let’s work those upper arms, Grey! Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go! That’s it! Push it as far as you can! We’ll go with two sets of ten! Up, down! Up, down! Up, down!” He pushes me hard.

“Keep going Grey, if you aren’t breathing hard, and your legs aren’t shredding, you aren’t doing it right! Come on man!” he forces me, and that’s good, because it focuses me on the task at hand. Because they’re short in duration, I have no time to occupy my mind with something or someone else. Just the exercise.

“Five second hold, ten times, Grey! Legs on the bench, sideways, elbow and forearms on the mat! Hold the waist off the ground! Left arm on your waist! Keep breathing! Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Now lower your hip! Good job! Now, lift up and hold for five seconds again!” We repeat the cycle for ten lifts.

“Roll to the other side without getting off, Grey! Let’s repeat on the other side. Left arm on the mat, right arm on the waist! Good job! Nine! And ten! Off the bench, now, now, now! Thirty pound dumbbell lunges!” he says pushing me to the next task he has in mind not leaving me a second of time to think. I have thirty pound hanging from each hand and I do ten sets of lunges with the weights.

“Come on Grey! Get low, and drive up hard! Come on! Chest up, Grey! Watch your posture! Breathe in, breathe out! Now ten lunges to the other direction Grey! Good job! Now weights down! Don’t stop! Use the rectangular bench to explode up now!” he orders me into doing the bent leg jumps. “One leg bent when you reach up... Yes! That’s it! Keep the other leg straight when you bend one, Grey! Explode up! Higher man, higher! This is not for speed, Grey, this is for power! Up! Higher! We’ll go with twenty on this!”

I jump using a bench for vertical lift, and explode up. The second that exercise is over he orders me into the next one.

“Now, hit the bikes! Go very hard for one minute! Jump off immediately, rest 30 seconds and repeat! We’re going for 10 repetitions with this cycle!”

When I’m done with the bike, I’m breathing hard, but nothing I can’t handle.

“Grey, you’re going to run the length of the gym. We’ll start with about 100 yard sprint; then you will do 20 pushups, then you sprint to 80 yards where I’ll set a marker for you, you will do 20 crunches. We’ll go down with 20 yard intervals. Sprint, 20 pushups, sprint, 20 crunches, sprint, pushups, and sprint crunches until we get to the 0 marker! Now, run!”

By the time I am done with the anaerobic exercises, I’m gasping for breath!

“Now, you’re focused, Grey! Hydrate, and let’s see what you can do on the mat!”

When I manage to get Bastille sprawled on the floor, he tries to go for a takedown. I manage to get on top, and place my arm under his neck and through his armpit and lock it with my other arm and grasping well past my bicep! When he tries to resist, I raise my hips and I start throwing some knees to his head which in return he brings his left hand to defend, giving me a good grasp to further lock my hand aiding me to shove it as deep as possible. Then I dip my head to the side to protect my head, dip my shoulder in, twist my hips to get as much power as possible to roll to my side, once I have him, I snatch him up, and walk into him. He’s completely under my control, and he taps out. If he doesn’t, he can lose consciousness within minutes, because the anaconda chokehold interrupts the blood flow to the brain.

“Good job, Grey! Finally managed to focus!” he says. “Not too bad for a man whose brain is still elsewhere!” he says, but I ignore the remark with an impassive gaze.


I have showered and cleaned up and in my pajama bottoms with a t-shirt on top, working in my office. I check the time. No phone calls, or text yet.  It’s been four hours since Anastasia left to go to my parents’ house. How long does it take to taste some food? My hand goes to my phone, and I force myself to stop. I want her to call me. I force myself to go over business reports analyzing numbers, when finally Anastasia calls.

“Hi,” she says in her girlish soft voice. That simple word just tugs at my heart strings.

“Hi,” respond my voice deep and husky, but don’t say anything else.

“Sawyer’s driving me back right now,” she says, pausing.

“Okay,” I reply in a low murmur.

“Are you still mad at me?” she asks in a soft tone. I sigh.


“Oh,” she says, and that single word tells me she’s disappointed, and that one simple word out of her lips breaks my heart.

“I’ll see you home, then...” she replies in a whisper.

“Okay,” I reply, wanting to say so much, and unable to. Acting like a fucking teenager!

“I love you, Christian,” she says making me shiver to the core. I close my eyes, and let the words sink into my soul. Craving for her words, for her touch, just...craving for her...
Hungry Eyes (pride and prejudice) 

“I know,” is all I can say in a soft murmur. What I want to say is that I love her more than words can express. That I love her better than I love myself, or any one thing or a combination of things and people I have ever loved in my life. I love her so much it hurts to think about it! Yet, all I can say is, ‘I know,’ to her declaration of love. Fuck me!

She sighs. “I’ll see you soon, then, Christian.”

“Okay,” I reply like a broken record. She doesn’t hang up, staying on the line.

“Bye, Christian.”

“Bye, Ana.”

My fucking heart hurts when she finally hangs up.

One fucking word, Ana! One word! How hard could it be to say it? Am I not worthy of that?

I start going over the reports Alex Pella created, but my heart isn’t in it. My ears are at half attention waiting for her footsteps in the apartment. The buzzing of the phone jumps me, because there’s no other noise.

“Mr. Grey? Welch’s here.”

“Yes,” I say, frowning.

“I wanted to go over the report Mr. Pella created, and give you some of our findings. Do you have time sir?”

“Go ahead,” I reply.

“I wanted go with the elimination of some of the suspects you wanted me to search,” He goes through a small list of former business associates.

“Each one was either out of town or their activities near and after your accident implied that they had nothing to do with it, or had no knowledge of it.”

“What about Elena Lincoln and her boyfriend?” I ask.

“They’re both clear, sir.”

“Without the shadow of any doubt?”

“Yes, sir,” he says with certainty. “The boyfriend was in California at the time, and she was working all day, the day before and during. I’ve confirmed it with people who worked and got the list of other clients who have seen her at work.”

“What about Mr. Lincoln?” I ask reluctantly.

“He was in town, but he was working. A lot of people confirmed seeing him all day at his work site. But that means little. He wouldn’t do it himself if it was him. So our best bet is to locate the owner of the partial print that was recovered, and find out whether he worked alone, or with someone else.”

“Fine. I want the list of names that are responsible with access to Charlie Tango, all the way to the top.”

“I have them ready, sir. I’ll e-mail them to you.”

“Call Andrea, and have her schedule top fucker first thing tomorrow morning! Someone will have to answer for the unacceptable security lapse.”

“Mr. Grey, I personally researched it myself: the lack of security, and the access to Charlie Tango was incredibly easy. It’s not because the rules aren’t in place, but because people aren’t doing their jobs. I’ll send you images, and a report summarizing my findings in a few minutes. I have already grilled them on the lack of security, and they’re tightening the security, and ease of access to GEH aircrafts.”

“A day late, a dollar short, Welch! I want some heads rolling for the fuckup that nearly cost me and Ros our lives! I want the management waiting for me first thing tomorrow morning!”

“Yes, sir. I’ll have Andrea schedule it.”

“Anything else?”

“That’s all for now, sir. I still haven’t completed going over all reports in detail Mr. Pella created.”

“Update me when you do. I want increased security for all my family, and here at Escala as well. E-mail me the list of names and backgrounds, and CC to Taylor, and coordinate with him,” I say before I hang up.

I sag back in my chair. A lunatic is after me, and very likely after Anastasia. Fucking paparazzi ambushing her in the public bathroom for God’s sake! I’m doing all I can to try to protect my woman, and she won’t fucking cooperate with me! She won’t fucking obey! Ripping my heart out by hand would be less agonizing!

Exasperated I get back to my work.


My door opens slowly. Anastasia walks in with hesitating steps and closes the door behind her. My gaze dons the impassive mask, giving away nothing. I don’t blink. She steps into the room, and the distance between us feels like miles away.

“I’m back,” she says simply. I don’t dare to swallow. “I brought you something,” she adds, and I notice the plate in her hand for the first time.  She walks in slow steps as if she’s walking towards a wild animal she’s trying not to make timid. She places the plate on the table as if she’s making an offering. Her hands slowly retract back. I don’t blink.

“Would you like wine to go with your seafood?” she asks.

“Yes,” I breathe, yearning for her. She nods her head slowly.

“Okay,” she says swallowing. “I’ll go get you a glass,” she whispers.

She turns to go, I say, “Ana?” she turns to look at me expectant. I shake my head.

“White wine,” I say, kicking myself mentally. ‘Say something, stupid!’ I chide myself. She turns to leave, and walk out of my study. It feels lonely without having her close to my vicinity. Fucking lonely, miserable and I’m so fucking stubborn, and so is she over a word, neither one giving an inch to the other! It’s an important word, but a word nonetheless.

She comes back with a chilled glass of white wine.

“Join me?” I ask hopeful.

“No, I ate already...a lot I think with all the food to taste and had wine at your parents. I don’t think you want me to drink too much. I feel light headed already,” she says her gaze not leaving mine. Both of us look at each other yearning, wanting the other and unable to get passed our stubborn streak.

“It’s late. I want to go to bed. Are you coming?” she asks expectantly. I speak before I can think.

“I have to work. Lots to catch up,” I say softly, still unblinking, still my heart breaking with the distance we are erecting between each other; neither one willing to back down. Words remain unsaid. She stands in the study awkwardly. Finally deciding against some conflicting emotion in her head, she walks forward, and chastely kisses me, leaving me frozen for a few seconds, but I manage to respond with the charge that passes through our connection. Our bodies betray us; I pull her into my embrace, and hold her tightly, feeling her warmth in my proximity, and inhale her scent, finally kissing the top of her head.

“Go to bed now, baby. I’ll have to work a little more.”

“Come to bed,” she pleads, and I want to. Oh, I want to so badly! But I’m afraid to give in or worse, I’ll want to punish her with sex, and get carried away. My eyes widen in response, I shake my head.

“Too much to do. Can’t wait. We only have a short month, and I better get these done,” I say indicating my computer screen.

She nods her head, but the glimpse of hurt is there in her eyes.

“Okay,” she says in a whisper, and as she steps away, her hand that was in mine slowly drifts away from me, leaving me feeling bereft.
Celine Dion - Falling into you

I remain in my office another four hours working hard; sleep not finding me. When I finally make my way into my room, I slowly turn my side table lamp on. Pull a chair up, and watch Anastasia sleep. She’s looking so innocent, so lovely; her lips slightly parted, her hair spread to her pillow. She sighs, and turns. Her hand absently extends to my side of the bed as if to find something missing next to her. A connection... She rolls, and not finding what she’s looking for in her sleep, she moans as if in pain. I hear a soft call of my name, barely audible. Did she wake up? I lean in, and her eyes are closed. But she is looking for me in her sleep. She automatically turns to my warmth. We’re drawn to each other even in sleep, and we’re fucking meaningless without each other. I take my shirt off and slowly ease into bed pulling her into my arms, and finally for the first time all day long, I feel complete.


It’s dark. I can’t see a thing. I can’t feel my way. There isn’t any light, no sound, nothing. It’s a deep abyss. My heart is pounding. She’s here. I know she’s here.

“Christian, help me!” I hear her.

“Where are you Ana?”

“I’m here! Help me!” she screams. I don’t know which way is the right way to get to her. I run full speed, but the voice is getting distant.

“Ana, where the hell are you? Talk to me! Let me find you!”

All I hear is a blood curdling scream. My name laced in her scream, ripping my  soul apart!

There is a dim light in the distance. So dim, if you blinked, you would lose it. I wouldn’t dare to blink. I have to focus. I come to a dirty door that had seen better days. The smell... I know the smell. It’s pungent, nasty. It oozes out of the door, taking a form. It stinks like...death.

Agony grips my heart and tears sting my eyes, my hands fists on my side. I kick the fucking door nearly pulling it off its hinges. It hangs askew. I’m breathing hard, my heart is at my throat beating hard, trying to get out of my chest. I enter and look around in the dim light. The smell draws me like the hands of the devil, so strong. It’s laced with fear and evil. It’s odor reeks with blood, and hurt. I’m afraid to call out to her name. I’m afraid that she won’t answer. I’m terrified! I smell her scent, her brand of woman, her natural perfume smelling like sweet spices, outdoors, and freshness... and blood.

“Ana?” I whisper. “Ana, talk to me, baby! I’m here... I’m here, Ana. Answer me, baby...” No response. My eyes bewildered looks around.

Then I find her. Her blood crusted body is naked on the dirty concrete floor. Whip lines criss cross her back, and her chest. Her hair matted with blood and dirt. Her face is bruised. Her lifeless body has endured unimaginable pain. A shriek comes to my ears I don’t recognize. Oh... It’s me. I’m the one screaming in agony, falling on my knees, holding her tightly in my arms and rocking her back and forth.

“How do you like it now?” asks an unknown voice. It gets louder and louder still.

“How do you like it, Master?” asks Leila’s voice and her hazy face. The face slowly shifts, ripples and changes.

“How do you like it, Christian? I saved you from your gold digging whore! You can thank me later,” says Elena‘s voice and face changing on the hazy figure. Her large leather whip flies and hits Anastasia’s lifeless legs.

“Stop it! Stop! Leave her alone!” She laughs, and the face ripples once again.

“How does it feel young Christian Grey when someone else fucks your woman?” says the contorting face changing into Mr. Lincoln in the haze. He leans his head in examining her wounds with pride in his green gaze. “I have to say, she rather enjoyed the punishment. She was a good girl, screaming when I wanted her to scream... at exactly the right pitch... Did it hurt you enough? I was aiming for soul shredding effect,” he says his voice lilting, completely pleased with himself.

I try to shield Ana’s lifeless body, getting colder by the second. I can’t fucking do anything to make her alive! I scream and rock her back and forth harder.

Faces change rapidly with the unknown body, finally the face of the pimp emerging.

“How do you like it now, bastard? You killed her. Like you killed your mother! You are a murderer! You are a murderer! You.are.her.murderer! But then, you only deserve her dead body!” his voice seethes poison, his breath stinking cheap beer and Camel cigarettes.

“Look, what we have here. The little whore that is your mama. There she is!” he points at another lifeless body. “Better get to her boy! She’s getting cold awfully fast!” he says his face distorting into a menacing form. “What the fuck have you done to her? That crazy fucked up bitch! Shit! Fuck! Get out of the way you little shit!” he yells kicking me, and all of a sudden I’m little, helpless, hurt...

“No! No! No! Mommy!” There’s her lifeless body lying on the dirty green carpet. I want my mommy! I’m here and I’m not here. I look at myself. A hungry, dirty, unwanted little boy and the policewoman is taking my blankie away.

“Mommy!” I run to her, and I’m stopped by the large hands of death grasping me on my shoulder with the face of the pimp.

“You better make your choice, you little shit!” says the pimp. “What will it be? Your mommy’s dead body or your lover’s dead body? What will you keep?” he whispers menacingly, taunting me.

I run between two bodies in this abyss unable to save neither. I see the faces turning around Ana’s body. All sorts of faces! Elena, Leila, the pimp, Mr. Lincoln... unknown faces. Trying to claim her as their own! They want to take her away from me!

“No! No! No! Leave her the fuck alone! She’s mine!” I shield her lifeless body with mine. Tears flow freely with agony ripping my heart and soul apart.
(Unbreak My Heart – Toni Braxton)

“Don’t die on me baby! Don’t go! I love you so much! Don’t just leave me!” Tears spring down on their own volition. “Take me, too, Ana! I cannot live without my heart. I cannot live without my soul,” I grieve in utter despair. She doesn’t hear me or respond. My baby is dead! I cry out in agony. I want to die, too!

“Christian! Christian!” It’s her voice! Is it from heaven? She sounds urgent, pulling me away from the depths of my despair. “I’m here, Christian. I’m here,” she shakes me.

My eyes open, clouded with tears making it hard to see. She’s leaning over me, grasping me my shoulders, shaking me, her face too is etched with anguish, and her beautiful, alive blue eyes are wide and brimming with tears.

“Ana,” I say unbelieving in a breathless whisper, fear lacing my mouth, oozing out of my pores. “You’re here. You’re well,” I utter, unbelieving.

“Of course, I’m here.”

“I had a dream...” I say breathless.

“I know. I’m here. I’m here,” she says reassuring.

“Ana,” I breathe her name like a talisman against the choking nightmare gripping my soul, the fear killing me inside.

“Hush, I’m here,” she says curling her arms around me, her limbs cocooning me, her warmth giving life, forcing the devils of my nightmare away. She’s my life, she’s my sun; she is my everything! I can’t exist without her.

“Ana, please, let’s not fight,” I say in a hoarse voice, embracing her within my arms. Holding her, and feeling her.

“Okay, okay,” she says calming me.

“The vows. No obeying, I can do that. We’ll find a way,” I say. I am just glad that she’s alive. I don’t care that she doesn’t obey. I just want her!

“Yes. We will. We always find a way,” she whispers and descends her lips sealing mine, both silencing me, and jolting me back to life, and existence. I roll over her pulling t-shirt off her body in one swift move, and merge my body with hers.