BOOK II - FINAL CHAPTER -CHAPTER XXV - Christian and Anastasia Fanfiction

“I love thee; I love but thee with a love that shall not die. Till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old.”

Shakespeare

Omnia Vincit Amor: et nos cedamus amori (Virgil)

CHAPTER XXV

 (above cover is created by a fan: Helene Cuji! Thank you Helene!)

Ana’s stance is something between defensive and offensive. What is in that piece of paper? Is it a letter from a former lover? How could it be? She’s had no other lover. Did she? The thought is more than unsettling. She’s my girl. I’m becoming a nervous wreck by the second.

“Ana, what is it?” I murmur in a wary tone. She doesn’t answer; instead her gaze is focused on Katherine Kavanagh. A cold shiver runs through me as if someone just stepped on my grave.

“Kate! This has nothing to do with you,” she seethes venomously. Kate is only surprised at her response and blinks at her with wide eyes. The exchange that goes between them and the look that says “Don’t tell Christian!” on Ana’s face makes me more nervous than ever! What is she hiding?  What doesn’t she want me to know? What is in that fucking paper?

“Ana! What is it?” I ask again in a menacing tone.

“Christian, would you just go, please?” she asks dismissing me! Me! No one dismisses me!

“No! Show me,” I say in a firm, arctic ‘don’t fuck with me now!’ tone, holding out my hand for the paper in her hand. After a brief hesitation, she hands me the paper.

As I get a first glimpse of the e-mail Anastasia sent to me discussing the contract... The Submissive Contract... My heart sinks faster than Titanic! I hear Katherine again.

“What has he done to you?” she asks in an apprehensive tone.

“That’s none of your business, Kate,” replies Anastasia in exasperation.

Blood chills in my veins. This is the first time someone as close to my family found out about my lifestyle. But even that I don’t care right now. What will it do to my relationship with Anastasia? Will they try to take her away from me? I would die and I would kill before that happens! Who did she talk about this? Elliot? My parents? Oh, God! My parents! Where did she get this? Did Anastasia log and send a message from her computer? Did someone send it to her?

“Where did you get this?” I ask in a menacingly soft tone reserved for the ones who tries to fuck with me, my head cocked to one side, unblinking, pure attention. She has the decency to flush at least.

“That’s irrelevant,” she replies, and her response only bounces back at her from my stony glare.

“It was in the pocket of a jacket –which I assume is yours- that I found hanging on the back of Ana’s bedroom door,” she replies as she looks into my molten lava gaze. We’re discovered where she got it. And now the question becomes if she’s told anyone of this. Who do I have to coax, fight, and argue?

“Have you told anyone?” I ask in a smooth as silk voice. I don’t want my fuckedup shit tainting my all too perfect family. What worries me, unreasonably, relentlessly, and torturing in such a way that someone is going to rip my heart out by somehow taking Anastasia away from me because of my fucked up, imperfect, bad to the core existence!  All my Fifty Shades coming back up to haunt me again!

“No! Of course not,” she snaps at me vexed. That’s something. I nod in response, and relief washes over me. With the e-mail in my hand, I head towards the dining room fireplace, and take the long lighter from the mantelpiece, and set the paper afire. As I watch and make sure that the entire paper is nothing but gray ashes over the fake logs, I stand vigil by it.

“Not even Elliot?” I hear Anastasia ask her.

“No one,” she replies unequivocally. There is a momentary heavy, burdensome silence. Katherine breaks it.

(The Sound of Silence)

“I just want to know you’re okay, Ana,” she says in a whisper. At least her intentions are honorable, and good. But the road to hell is paved with good intentions. She can destroy us, and I don’t like other people having control over my fate; least of all Anastasia’s fate.

“I’m just fine Kate. In fact, more than fine. Please, Christian and I are good, really good. This is old news. Please ignore it,” says Anastasia.

“Ignore it?” asks the witch whose broom is parked at the front door. “How can I ignore that?” she asks in a more emphatic tone pointing to the fireplace with one hand. “What has he done to you?” Her voice is laced with worry and concern, like I’m some sort of devil spawn.

“He hasn’t done anything to me, Kate. Honestly, I’m good,” replies Anastasia in a convincing voice.

Bad Witch of the West blinks. “Really?” she probes willing Anastasia to say something bad about me; almost in an effort to take her away from me. Wanting Anastasia to wake up from a spell that is plaguing her, and all of a sudden I feel the urge to hold Anastasia away from everyone, especially from Kate so she is not taken away from me. I find my arms wrapping around Anastasia, and I draw her closer. My eyes are constantly on Katherine without even blinking as if she’s the predator, and trying to snatch away what is most precious to me.

“Ana has consented to be my wife, Katherine,” I declare quietly but resonantly. She has no mistake in hearing me.

“Wife!” she squeaks in a tone that says ‘are you out of your fucking mind?’, angry, shocked, appalled, and her eyes are bulging out of their sockets. If she opened them any wider, they’d be two green orbs floating away.

“We are getting married. We’re going to announce our engagement this evening,” I say and add mentally, ‘if you don’t fuck things up for us that is!’ She’s now leading my shit-list with by far with the widest gap to anyone who is on that list.  

“Oh!” is all she could say if she can pick her jaw off the floor. I couldn’t have shocked her more if I told her I was Han Solo.   Once she locates her voice she turns to Anastasia, and hisses.

“I leave you alone for sixteen days, and this happens? It’s very sudden. So yesterday, when I said...” her gaze searches Anastasia’s. With the way she’s behaving you would think she’s the one who gave birth to Anastasia. She looks confused all of a sudden. “Where does that e-mail fit into all this?”

I don’t want a wife who is a submissive! Although I would love her to obey me. But that’s none of Katherine’s business!

“It doesn’t Kate. Just forget it, please. I love him and he loves me. Don’t do this. Don’t ruin his party and our night,” Anastasia whispers in a plea. I hate it that she has to beg Katherine for me. I don’t want my girl begging from anyone. My hearts falls in love with her anew, because of her declaration of love.

“No. Of course I won’t. Are you okay?” she probes more. What the fuck do we have to do to prove it Kavanagh?

“I’ve never been happier,” says Anastasia in a whisper, and her confirmation makes me happy. But Kavanagh is nothing is she’s not relentless. She reaches out, and grabs Anastasia’s hand even though I’m wrapped around her. I don’t like her action. It feels as if she’s trying to take her away from my hold...

“You really are okay?” she asks again seeking confirmation.

“Yes,” replies Anastasia with joy this time. Anastasia steps out of my hold, and Kavanagh embraces Anastasia. A million things run through my mind. Fear is the most prominent, followed by closely guarded rage. Fear of losing Anastasia, fear of my family knowing just exactly how fucked up I am, worse how fucked up I’ve been. They don’t deserve to be tainted with my shit! Rage at myself for being careless and at Katherine her effort to take Anastasia away from me. Even if her intent is to protect Anastasia, no one can protect her better than I can. She’s my girl, my woman, my fiancée. I’d die a thousand times before I let anyone to take her away from me!

“Oh, Ana... I was so worried when I read this. I didn’t know what to think. Will you explain it to me?” she asks in a small voice to Anastasia.

“One day, but not now.”

“Good. I won’t tell anyone. I love you so much Ana, like my own sister. I just thought...” She drifts away. “I just didn’t know what to think. I’m sorry. If you’re happy, then I’m happy.” Thank fuck for that!

“Christian. I’m so sorry! I was so worried about Anastasia. I’m sorry for butting in,” I nod. At least she’s contrite. But that won’t get you off my shit list. My eyes are shards of ice, my stare is nothing but arctic. Ice covered volcano.

“I really am sorry. You’re right, it is none of my business,” she whispers Anastasia chagrined of her earlier behavior.

There’s a knock at the door which separates Katherine and Anastasia’s hug. My mother pokes her head around the door.

Her question is directed at me. My father must have told her about Katherine’s less than welcoming, angry behavior.

“Is everything okay, darling?”

But Kavanagh answers first amending her ways.

“Everything’s fine, Mrs. Grey.”

“Fine, mom,” I reply coolly.

“Good,” she says relieved and enters into the room. “Then you won’t probably mind if I give my son a birthday hug,” she says glowing with happiness. I need to see her as well. I need her help after all.

“Happy birthday, darling,” my mother says in her soft voice. “I’m so glad you’re still with us.”

“Mom, I’m quite well,” I say reassuringly, and I smile down at her. She pulls back still holding me and looks at me in a mother’s assessing gaze, and her happiness is all over her face. She’s radiant.

“I’m so happy for you,” she says, and gently caresses my face. Her affection takes me by surprise, but a welcome one and I find myself grinning like an idiot.

“Well, kids, if you’ve all finished your tête-à-tête, there’s a throng of people here to check that you really are in one piece Christian and to wish you a happy birthday.”

“I’ll be right there, mom,” I say reassuring her.

My mom’s gaze is anxiously scans Anastasia and Katherine, and their smiles reassure her that all is well. My mother winks at Anastasia conspiratorially, and opens the door for us. I proffer my hand to Anastasia, my fiancée and the Kate the witch follow my mother who isn’t going to leave us here alone, out of the dining room.

Before we make our way out, Katherine says, “Christian, I really do, sincerely apologize,” she says in a soft humble tone which is contrite and heartfelt. I nod at her, apology accepted but the deed not forgotten.

When we leave to the hallway, Anastasia gazes up at me warily and asks, “Does your mother know about us?”

“Yes,” I tell her, not willing to elaborate.

“Oh,” she says surprised, pleasantly I think. Then she adds, “Well, that was an interesting start to the evening,” smiling. All of a sudden, I feel an urge to laugh at her assessment, but I just settle for an amused smile. No one can oversimplify an issue like Anastasia can. But, that’s one of the things I love about her. Her rage is like summer rain in the desert; comes with a thunder, but goes away within a few minutes.

“As ever, Miss Steele, you have a gift for understatement,” I say, and lift her hand up to my lips, and kiss her knuckles. When we enter into my parents’ spacious  living room after my mother, I’m surprised at the crowd gathered in there. There is a thunderous applause and shouts of Happy Birthday.

Anastasia too is surprised at the gathered crowd and her gaze scans the room shyly. All my family is present, and then there is Ethan hanging out with my sister. I narrow my eyes, but she’s an adult woman, I decide. John and Rhian are here, and Bastille, Mac, bitchy Lily, and oh shit! Elena!

When the applause dies down, everyone’s eyes turn to me expectantly. I take my cue, “Thank you, everyone,” I say. My parents’ help Gretchen comes with a tray of champagne, and I say, “Looks like I’ll need one of these,” and I take two flutes of champagne, and after handing one to Anastasia, I take her hand squeeze it.



I raise the champagne flute to the room, and all the guests surge forward. Elena is the first one to reach me in the group.

“Christian, I was so worried,” she says hugging me, and kissing me on both cheeks. Anastasia tries to yank her hand away, clearly disturbed by Elena, but I grip her tighter.

“I’m good Elena,” I mutter in an unfriendly tone.

“Why didn’t you call me?” she asks fervently, searching my gaze.

“I’ve been busy,” I cut it short, but she probes further.

“Didn’t you get my messages?” Fuck! I don’t want Anastasia to hear that! I feel uncomfortable, because the way Elena’s behaving towards me is proprietary even though she’s in full knowledge that Anastasia is very important to me. She’s not backing off, and neither is she recognizing Anastasia whom I’m holding so close to my body, you’d think we are attached at the hips! I pull Anastasia even closer, almost like a security blanket, she’s my center, and she’s my soul. Without her, I don’t have a heart or a soul. She makes me almost human. Makes me feel. I fold my arms around her. If we were any closer, we’d be having sex. I give my most impassive gaze at Elena, and she finally can’t ignore Anastasia.

“Ana,” she purrs, “You look lovely, dear.”

“Elena,” Anastasia mirrors her tone. “Thank you.”

My mother is puzzled with the discomfort, and displeasure Elena and Anastasia have between them. She frowns, contemplating. And it’s not a good thing if she does that. My mother is a brilliant woman.

But, I’m not going to tolerate the Elena siege of Alamo. We know the outcome of that. I’ll have to nip it in the bud before it turns into a war here.

“Elena, I need to make an announcement,” I say indifferently to Elena, so, she gets her ass away from Anastasia. I don’t want anyone to spoil her mood.

“Of course,” she says, with her plastered smile reserved for insincere pleasantries, stepping back.

“Everyone!” I call out to the guests in a clear voice. I know how to get the attention of a room. One clear warning is all it takes. Even though this is for a happy occasion, my voice is still commanding, and demanding nothing less than their full attention. In less than a minute, the voices in the room quiet down, and   all the eyes turn on me.

“I’d like to thank all of you for coming today. I must say, I was just expecting a quiet family dinner, so this is a pleasant surprise.” My sister captures my gaze, and she grins at me giving me a wave. She’s in a playful mode again.

“Ros and I,” I say remembering the ordeal we’ve been through together who is now standing with her girlfriend Gwen, “we had a close call yesterday.”

Ros grins happily, and raises her glass at me, and I nod to her in acknowledgement.

“So I am especially glad to be here today to share with all of you my very good news. This beautiful woman,” I say looking down at my fiancée lovingly, “Miss Anastasia Rose Steele, has consented to be my wife, and I would like you all to be the first to know.”

The crowd is just gasping in unison as if I grew a set of antlers, completely flabbergasted. But, finally they find their voice, and manage an off key cheer, and an equally off key round of applause follow. Did they all think I was gay?  Anastasia blushes with all the gazes, and stares, some sincerely happy like my family, John and his wife. Some jealous like bitchy Lily, and some green getting sick like Elena. Fuck them! I don’t want to spare one minute looking into someone else’s gaze, but my woman’s. I grasp her chin, lift it up to my lips, and kiss her all too quickly.

“You’ll soon be mine,” I whisper.

(Here I am by  Bryan Adams)



“I’m already yours,” she murmurs back.

“Legally, baby,” I mouth the words at her, and grin with the thought that no one can take her from me. All too soon, my parents approach, and they hug and kiss Anastasia and pass her around like the Halloween candy.

My mother is beside herself. I think her reaction here tops the one when she first nearly walked in on us, and realized that I was in fact, not gay. Describing her just happy would be like saying Noah’s Flood was a light shower.

“Oh, dear Ana! I’m so delighted you’re going to be family! The change in Christian... it’s so overwhelming... He’s ... he’s happy. I’m so thankful to you,” she says hugging Anastasia again.

Mia jumps out.

“Where’s the ring?” And of course there isn’t one on her finger, because I haven’t given her it yet!

“Uhm...” Anastasia says looking lost, and gazes up at me for help.

“We’re going to choose one together,” I say scowling at her.

But, Mia is undeterred. She can stand up to me like no one can. Well, almost no one, except Anastasia.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Grey!” she says reproachful, and then hugs me with all her force. “I’m so thrilled for you, Christian,” she says.

“When will you get married? Have you set a date?” she asks beaming at me. I’m so glad it’s my mother who is helping me with the surprise for Anastasia. Mia couldn’t keep a secret like that without letting everyone know, and not to mention, I don’t want her to come and spoil my glory. I already screwed up in my initial proposal; I don’t want to repeat my disaster. My sister can be exasperating.  Anastasia just accepted, how could we set a date?

“I’ve no idea, and no we haven’t. Ana and I need to discuss all that,” I say crossly as I shake my head admonishing her, but this is my sister we are talking about.

“I hope you have a big wedding here!” she says hopeful, completely ignoring me.

“We’ll probably fly to Vegas tomorrow,” I grunt, and she sneers at me, pouting. God! Dealing with women I have no control over is completely tiring. I turn around, and find my brother Elliot holding me in another bear hug, completely happy for me.

“Way to go, bro!” he says clapping my back, less choked than yesterday, but happy. For me... I’m overwhelmed with the show of love from my family. After my family releases me and Anastasia from their hugs, Flynn and Rhian come to meet us.

John holds his hand out, “Christian,” he says and shakes my hand completely pleased.

“John. Rhian,” I greet them back, and kiss Rhian on her cheek. Anastasia assesses her black hair, hazel eyes, and cleavage. Rhian’s pleasant demeanor eases Anastasia. I think women assess other women like men do in a pissing contest. I’m secretly pleased with Anastasia’s possessiveness of me, and I want her to know that she owns me body and soul.

“Glad you’re still with us, Christian. My life would be most dull, and penurious without you,” he teases. I’m at ease and comfortable with him, because he’s one of the very few people who can say him mind, and joke without being intimidated. I smirk at his remark, and John in return gets chastised by his wife, and it somehow amuses me because it reminds me what Anastasia can do to me and knowing John and Rhian have an intimate relationship, it gives me more hope for our future.

I find my manners again, and introduce my fiancée with pride.

“Rhian, this is Anastasia, my fiancée. Ana, this is John’s wife.”

“I’m delighted to meet the woman who has finally captured Christian’s heart,” she says kindly to Anastasia.

Ana, in her shy smile mutters a thank you.

“That was one googly you bowled there, Christian,” says John in his Londoner accent shaking his head in disbelief, but I frown at him. I wouldn’t call my decision to marry Anastasia a googly. It should have been clear to him all along that I love Anastasia.

“John, you and your cricket metaphors!” Rhian chastises her husband again.

“What’s a googly?” ask Anastasia.

“Oh, in leg spin bowling Googly is a basic and common weapon.”

“John!” reprimands Rhian knowing he’s going to go into full explanation mode.

“It’s basically a cricket ball bowled as if to break one way that actually breaks in the opposite way,” John explains in short. Rhian rolls her eyes at her husband.

 “Congratulations to the pair of you and happy birthday, Christian. What a wonderful birthday present,” says Rhian effectively changing the subject.

I thank her, and smile.

“Ana, it’s so nice to finally meet you, what do you do?”

Anastasia smiles, and tells her she works in publishing.

“John,” I nod my head to the side a couple of steps away from the girls. Anastasia, though she’s speaking with Rhian, follows me with her gaze.

“How’s Leila?” I ask in a quiet tone.

“She’s good Christian. Responding well to the treatment. Another couple of weeks and we can consider an outpatient program for her.” I nod.

“Did she tell you how many times she’s been in the apartment?”

“She said a few times. But not an exact number.”

“Did she always use the same route?”

“Yes, that’s what she said.”

“Ask her something for me,” I say bringing up the pictures.

“Sure, what is it?”

“Ask her if she moved the box of pictures in my safe and relocate them into my closet?”

“Pictures?” John asks cocking his eyebrows. I feel a little embarrassed. I lower my voice.

“Yes, pictures of her and the other submissives.”

“What kind of pictures?”

“What kind do you think?” I ask sarcastically. He mulls that a minute.

“Why would you keep them?” John asks his eyebrows raised.

“I don’t anymore. I destroyed them.”

“You did that because?” he coaxes.

“Anastasia found them. I suspect Leila put them where Ana could find them,” I say.

“Aha...” he says, and in that one word, I know we’ll be talking about this for the next few weeks. He finally shakes his head. When he sees Ros and Gwen coming towards us, he closes the topic.

“Okay, I’ll ask her. We’ll talk about this in your next session. It’s your birthday today.”

“Happy Birthday Mr. Grey!” says Ros and Gwen in unison, and they both give me a brief hug.

“Ros, Gwen,” I say turning and indicating Ana, “this lovely woman is my fiancée, Anastasia,” I introduce her.

“Anastasia, it’s so nice to meet you!” says Ros in her raspy voice, and I can’t help but make a face. Gwen who is a bubbly blonde gives Anastasia a hug. I don’t want them to linger on hugging my woman, seeing as they both bat for the home team. Not that they would have eyes on anyone other than each other, but why take the chance?

“Please call me Ana,” says Anastasia.

I gingerly pull Anastasia under my arm and hold her.

“Anastasia, you must be proud of Mr. Grey’s piloting skills. That’s what saved us yesterday. As scary as the experience was, I wouldn’t hesitate to ride with him on Charlie Tango again,” gushes Ros.

“Yes. I’m just thankful that you both made home safe and sound,” Anastasia says in a  somber voice.

“Me too! and relieved beyond belief to see Ros after she didn’t make home when she was supposed to," says Gwen choking on her words.

“Yes, as was I. Len, the truck driver dropped me off first, and I was walking in my stockings, my shoes in my hand, all dirty and in my bloody shirt.”

“Where do you live?” asks Ana wanting to change the topic from a displeasing one.

“Oh, we’re not very far from Mr. Grey’s apartment. In fact, our apartment is almost on the opposite side of Escala.”

“Did you take Len’s advice?” I ask Ros. For a moment she looks confused.

“Which advice? He gave me a few... I think...” she say racking her brain.

“The one about the Epsom salt. Your feet were very swollen by the time we got to the paved road.”

“Mr. Grey, Ros said that you were about to toss her Jimmy Choos!” Gwen says completely shocked. Sometimes it’s hard to understand women. Us, being in a helicopter crash wasn’t the highlight of yesterday, but me wanting to toss her shoes was?

“Well, it worked out fine. She wore my shoes for the duration of the walk,” I say dismissively.

“You lent your shoes?” asks Anastasia in awe, almost reverently.

“Yes, she was in heels,” I say nonchalantly, but it makes me beyond happy that she looks very proud of me.

Few minutes later, my mother comes in and interrupts our conversation and announces to everyone that the dinner is ready and is being served buffet style in the kitchen.  As we walk toward the dining room, I look for an opportunity to see my mother without Anastasia. For once, Mia’s overbearing is welcome. She comes in her high heels, and pale pink baby doll dress, and in her tall stature with two cocktail glasses. By the looks of it, it’s my dad’s special lemon martinis.

“Ana!” she gushes, and I find my chance and release Anastasia’s hand, and deposit my fiancée into the care of my sister who clings to Anastasia closer than a tick on a dog’s ear. Anastasia looks up at me, in her what-do-I-do bewildered gaze, and I shrug, and give her a sympathetic smile. It’s Mia. Might as well get used to her. Then I go and find my mother.

We try to find a quiet corner away from the prying eyes. My mother is behaving like a spy from the 007.

“You have what I need?” she asks looking everywhere but me. Who is this woman, and what has she done with my mother?

“What?” I ask confused. She repeats herself in an even tone.

“Come on Christian. People are waiting inside. It’s your party, we don’t have time! Do you or do you not have what I need?” she chides me.

“Yes, ma’am.” I take out the precious box out of my pocket.

She places it inside her pocket.

“Don’t you want to check it?” I ask in a tone as I try not to smirk at her.

“No, I trust that you have put what is needed here. Otherwise you’ll be in trouble, but not by me. And besides, I want to be surprised when I see it on her finger,” she says smiling.

“Hey Grey! Happy birthday man!” says Bastille on his way to the dining room.

“Thanks Bastille!” I respond behind his receding figure towards the dining room.

“Have they delivered the...” I lower my voice just in case another guest walks by, “... the custodial?”

“The custodial? Oh son,” she shakes her head. “Yes, it looks like a spring meadow. Just beautiful, I cried. There is a very striking centerpiece one. I’ll put this in there.”

“Thank you for helping out mom!” I say, hugging her and taking her by surprise.

“Anything for my son,” she says in a happy but choked voice. It’s sometimes impossible to understand women especially when they pack extreme happiness and sorrow all in one sentence, and flow both the emotions at the same time with more gusto than the Niagara Falls. ‘Live with it!’ my subconscious says.

“Ok, go to your fiancée son. I capitalized enough of your time. I’ll get it done sometime before the dinner is over. If either of us disappear now it’ll look odd.” I nod, and make my way to find Anastasia.

I go to the living room, and Anastasia is nowhere to be seen. I make my way into the kitchen and frown when I don’t see her, but Mia is there animatedly chatting away with Kate in her captivity now.

“Mia? Have you seen Anastasia?”

“She’s... oh dear. The last time I saw her she was in the... uhm... dining room area,” she says and smiles, and goes back to her conversation. It’s odd that Anastasia didn’t come to the kitchen yet. I quickly make my way to the dining room, and find the door closed. But there are voices coming from within. Angry... voices. One of which is Anastasia’s and the other is Elena’s!

“...And if you think he’s going to be happy with a mousy little gold-digger like you...” I hear as I get close to the door then I hear Anastasia yelling.

“Don’t you dare tell me what I’m getting myself into! When will you learn? It’s none of your goddamned business!”

I push the door open as fast as I can and see Elena drenched in my father’s martini, livid and I know that look. She looks like she wants to whip the shit out of Anastasia if she can, and Anastasia shaking, blood drained from her face, completely ashen.  How did this happen? And what exactly happened? Anger, no...murderous rage is thick in my blood. I position myself between Anastasia and Elena in a protective stance, subconsciously protecting Anastasia from the train wreck of my past coming crashing down at me at every fucking turn; ironically my stance is like hers when she positioned herself between me and Katherine when we got here.

“What the fuck are you doing Elena?” I say in an arctic menacing tone she understands so well. She’s surprised that it’s directed at her. “She’s not right for you, Christian,” she whispers.

Blood drains from my brain for a second. “What?” I shout with such malevolence that I don’t even recognize my own voice, making both Elena and Anastasia jump. My body is like live wire.

“How the fuck do you know what’s right for me?” I seethe with venom.

“You have needs, Christian,” she says in a softer tone, trying to coax me. She’s bringing up her submissive skills. Fucking bitch!

“I’ve told you before – this is none of your fucking business!” I roar in such a tone that my voice reverberates around the room, and at that moment I don’t really care who hears me. No one, tries to take away Anastasia from me, and gets away with it! I can see her game now. She had nothing to do with me finding Anastasia, and she knows I love her. She doesn’t have control over me! I own my life! Not her! I call her on her game.



“What is this?” I glare at her with animosity. “Do you think it’s you?” I catch a glimpse in her eyes that yes; in fact that’s what it is! “You?” I ask incredulous. “You think you’re right for me?” I speak through gritted teeth with repugnance.

When the words are out of my mouth, Elena first swallows and then her glance and stance changes to the dominatrix Elena. Commanding, in control, subtle, and with a gaze that is not just willing, but commanding me to submit... To obey! Fuck you, bitch! I’m not the fifteen year old child anymore!

“I was the best thing that ever happened to you,” she hisses at me insolently. Looking at me, she appraises my looks in front of Anastasia, without regarding either of us, assuming command of the room. “Look at you now. One of the richest, most successful, entrepreneurs in the U.S.  You are controlled, driven...” then her gaze slightly drifts to Anastasia with a belittling I-own-you-bitch-but-you-are-worthless look, then turns her gaze back at me again as if to emphasize her body language, “you need nothing! You are the master of your universe.”

I feel shocked that she takes credit of all the hard work I’ve done, as if fucking her afforded me everything I worked for twenty seven hours straight at times! I feel violated. Incredulity washes over me as if I’ve been tossed over by a wave of arctic water. I find myself taking a step back to look at her with just opened eyes.

“You loved it, Christian!” she hisses. “Don’t try to kid yourself. You were on the road to self-destruction, and I saved you from that, saved you from a life behind bars!” she taunts me. As if she has her whip and tied me up, and enjoying the proverbial lashes she’s painting my body with. The last time when I was a submissive for her... Fucking memories invade my sight for a moment. She taunted me like this. She wants to assume the control of me! “Believe me baby, that’s where you would have ended up. I taught you everything you know, everything you need,” she says enunciating.



This is what she really thinks! She thinks she owns me... She thinks she has rights over me, over who I choose, who I fuck, who gets to be in my company, what I get to do. Realization makes me blanche. Her true colors... I have never noticed it before... How could I be so fucking stupid?

“You taught me how to fuck, Elena. But it’s empty, like you. No wonder Linc left,” I hiss back at her. She thinks she can make decision on my life! On me! I can see it now! She sent me to Georgia knowing Anastasia would freak and leave me, and she did. She was playing me all along! Fuck me! And fuck her! She has no care or love for anyone! Not for me... I may be a heartless fucked up man, but even I feel something... Something for Ana! And she wants to take that away from me. I would die! I would kill before anyone makes an attempt to take her away from me.

“You never once held me,” I say in a whisper, recalling how desperately I needed it then. “You never said you loved me.” There... My fucking gut spilled on the ground for my fiancée and my ex-dominant and submissive to see.

I see the same gaze on her face again. The face that is trying to pierce through my thoughts, find that switch to make me submit to her.

“Love is for fools, Christian,” she says in a contemptuous voice.

“Get out of my house!” I hear a furious voice that I have never heard in this tone before, jolting me back to here and now. My mother is standing at the doorway, and her gaze is fixed on Elena, in a murderous rage, making her pale. The look she’s giving her can make a grown man shit in his pants! She looks like a female lioness protecting her cub.

Absently I notice I gasp and so does Anastasia and Elena with my mother’s presence. This is the biggest OSM (Oh Shit! Moment) of my entire life.

My mother saunters into the room like a stalking predator. Graceful, like her name. Her eyes unblinking, fury is dripping from her every cell like sweat. The air is thick with her rage. I don’t know whether I’m going to try to save the woman I wanted to beat the shit out of a minute ago from my mother’s hands to save Dr. Trevelyan from the murder charges. My mother stops right in front of Elena. She looks as if she’s grown ten feet tall. She’s a mother lioness. Elena is frozen in place, her eyes wide, and her feet frozen. She’s firmly kept in place with my mother’s you-don’t-fuck-with-me gaze. My eyes barely registers my mother’s lifted hand swinging back and landing on Elena’s face so hard, it’s like the shot that was heard around the world, which started the American revolution, resonating all over the walls!

“Take your filthy paws off my son, you whore and get out of my house – now!” hisses my mother through in such a menacing voice, but keeping her ladylike status, and no one would want to fuck with her.

The gravity of the situation finally settles on Elena, and she holds her reddened cheek along with her wounded ego, shock and horror on her face, unable to utter a single word to my mother, she manages to find her feet and rushes out of the room. I can hear a single uncontained sob as Elena’s feet retreats in a hurry.

My mother, Doctor Grace Trevelyan-Grey turns to face me. The sound of silence is deafening. It’s tangible, thick, and worrisome. My mother’s gaze carry hurt, disappointment, anger, heartbreak, and a million questions all demanding an answer. Then without leaving her gaze from mine, she asks Anastasia, “Ana, before I hand him over to you, would mind giving me a minute or two alone with my son?” in a quiet, but in control voice, and she looks stronger than I have ever seen her in my life.

“Of course,” whispers Anastasia, and when she exists the room, I don’t have the strength to look at her. My mother and I continue to gaze at each other, and she finally breaks her silence.

“How long, Christian?” she asks in a soft voice. I want my mother to yell at me, scream, be mad, hit me, be disgusted with me, but not this... Not pity, not worry, not tenderness... I don’t deserve it!

“How old were you?” she asks in a more insistent tone.

I say nothing again. I want to spare her from the agony it will put her through.

“Okay, Christian.  Let me put it this way. Clearly she seduced you, and you and her...” she holds her breath, and my gentle mother whose worst cuss word is “hell,” says to me, “explain it me Christian. When did she start fucking my child? How old were you when she seduced you?”

 

“Mom, let it go. It's over now. It's been over for years,” I say with, ground-swallow-me-now kind of mortification.

 

“No it hasn't Christian! She didn't quit. She was making a pass at you, telling you to leave Ana! Does that sound like a woman who quit you? Now tell me,” she enunciates, “how old were you?”

 

“Mom, please. Let ...” I say but she won’t let me finish it. Her glare turns both icy and hot. Her command is palpable. She’s not to mess with. She’s in her full mom, I-will-call-you-by-all-your-names-and-you’ll-come-like-a-train mode. My gentle mother is ready to spank the living shit out of me for the first time in her life.

 

“Christian Grey! I know where the bitch lives. I can drive to her house with your father, in the middle of your birthday party. I will beat the fucking crap out of her till hell won’t have her again! But, for your sake, I would really not like to spend the rest of your birthday in the county jail. But, I'm willing to do it. No one seduces my child, and fuck him for years under my nose...” she says choking, and her hands fly to her mouth in agony, “and get away with it. Now tell me before you put me through any more misery, tell me n...” her eyes fill to the brim, and she holds the tears back.

 

“I was fifteen!” I blurt it out.

 

Agony ripples through her face. “Fifteen?” she says in a barely audible voice completely shocked. Tears trickle down on their own volition silently.

“How?” she breathes.

“Mom, please...”

My mother stands taller before me, and I'm fourteen years old again, having a 'talk' after one of my fights. “Christian Trevelyan Grey! I asked you a straight question, I expect a straight answer. I'm not stupid, so don't treat me like a fucking idiot! If you have any respect for me... if you ever had any respect for me, you tell me the truth.”

“It happened when Mr. Lincoln was remodeling part of his house. Remember when you took me there the first time for a summer job. She kissed me, and that's how it started.”

“How?” she breathes again.

“Mom, please... You know how it happens. Do you want me to tell you the details of how we fucked?” I say icily.

“For how long?” she asks ignoring sternly continuing her inquisition.

“Six years.”

She gazes at me. “It didn't sound like six years. It sounded like you still had something with her, and that she still wants you. Do you want to destroy everything you have with Ana because of that child molester?”

“God, no! Mom, it's been over for years. It's in the past. Anastasia is my future. She's the one I love. She's the one I want to spend my life with.”

She shakes her head.

“Sit,” she points to the chair.

“Mom!”

“Sit I said! Or don’t make me call your father and your brother and make them sit your ass on that chair!” I sit pulling a chair sulkily like a teen.

 

“Christian Grey, if it wasn't your birthday, and Anastasia was not here, I don't know if I could contain myself and not kill you! You owe your life to Ana tonight!” she says glaring at me.

“You have no idea, how angry I am with you. You didn't tell me anything when this first started. How could I miss it? How could I not know? How did you two manage to hide this from us?” She paces around. “I feel like shit! I've failed as a parent. I'm a poor parent. Where did I go wrong? I tried to do right by you Christian...” she says lost, pacing around before me. My composed mother confounds me second day in a row.

“Mom! Please... It's nothing you or dad did. It's me! It's all me. I'm fucked up! I'm worthless. I'm tainted...” I lament, but she cuts me off.

“No! NO! NO! You're not getting away with this by your, self-recrimination. You are smart, you've always been loved. All you have to do is to love yourself, son! I blame Elena for that! You were a child. But you should have told us. Told me!” She chokes on her words. “I'm not a good mother,” she sobs losing it, covers her face with both hands.

I get up and hold my mother in my arms.

“It's me, mom. It's always me. I'm fucked up. I'm...”

She lifts her head and slaps my arm so hard. “You have to stop that right now! You're none of those things. You've had a bad childhood, but that wasn't your fault. You've had a mother who didn't have ways to protect you. That wasn't your fault either. But, you make other decisions on your own that are fucked up.” She pulls herself back and glares at me.

“There is a girl outside who is lovely, and in love with you. You better not fuck it up because of that Elena bitch, so help me God, I will go and shoot her myself, and make sure no doctor patches her up! And you know how I detest guns! Don't you let her mess what you have with Ana!”

“Mom, I love Anastasia! She's my future. She's everything. I can't live without her. By some miracle, she loves me. Though I don't know why!” I say in a low voice.

“She loves you because, you are worthy of love. If you think you’re not worthy of her love, then by God grow some balls like a real man, and make yourself worthy. Do you understand me Christian Trevelyan Grey?” she glares at me.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She composes herself again, and wipes her eyes, squares her shoulders, lifts her chin up.

“Fine! Go thank her for saving your life, because you could be breathing your last if it wasn’t for her, so help me God! You go and be a good fiancée, and you better not let Elena bitch get in-between the two of you. Now, get busy making that girl happy!”

“Okay mom,” I say silently, and take a step to go out, and my mother grabs me, and hugs me tight in her arms. “I’m still mad as hell, but I love you son. Don’t you ever forget that!”

“I love you too, mom,” I say bewildered.

“Wait, Christian,” she says, and takes out the ring box from her pocket.

“In light of the last half hour, I think it’s best you give it to her, instead of trying to let Ana find it in the flowers son. And, it’s the tradition anyway, you know, one knee and all,” she says smiling.

“Yes, mom,” I say smiling and take the ring box back from her.

*****

I look for Anastasia outside the door, but she isn’t there. I make my way to the living room. People are eating and chatting. My gaze scans the room, but she’s nowhere to be seen. I look in the kitchen, and various rooms, but she’s nowhere. Panic rises in me. She left me! She really left me this time! I’m about to call Taylor, but I decide to check one more room. My old bedroom. I make my way to the banisters. I climb the stairs two, three at a time, and as I make my way to the second floor, and I find Anastasia coming down the stairs from the third floor. She stops in her tracks on the top stairs of the second floor, and I come up to the one below. We are eye to eye.

“Hi,” I say guardedly.

“Hi,” she replies cautiously.

“I was worried...” I begin my words but she cuts me off.
 



(I Wanna Run to You by Whitney Houston)

“I know. I’m sorry... I just couldn’t face the festivities. I just had to get away, you know. To think,” and her hands reach up to my face, and caress me with her gentle touch. I lean in and close my eyes, letting the feeling course through my heart.

“And you thought you’d do that in my room?” I say finally opening my eyes.

“Yes,” she whispers.

I automatically reach for her, and pull her into my embrace, and hold her, relieved that she came willingly, holding me tight, enjoying her scent, inhaling her hair deeply.

“I’m sorry you had to endure that, baby,” I whisper fervently.

“It’s not your fault, Christian. Why was she here?” she asks.

My face dons an apologetic grimace.

“She’s a family friend.”

“Not anymore. How’s your mom?” she asks.

“Mom is pretty fucking mad at me right now. I’m really glad you’re here, and that we’re in the middle of a party. Otherwise I might be breathing my last,” I say putting everything in a nutshell.

“That bad, huh?”

I can only nod in response. Still shocked at my mother’s response.

“Can you blame her?” she asks in a quiet voice, beguiling. I find myself hugging her tighter. I was so worried, and my mother’s words telling me, reminding that I might lose Anastasia because of Elena scares me the most, and I hug her tighter.

After what seems like an eternity, I answer her. “No.”

I can feel Anastasia’s sharp intake of breath after she hears my response.

“Can we sit?” she asks.

“Sure. Here?” I ask confused. She nods, and we sit on the top of the stairs.

“So, how do you feel?” she asks in a solicitous voice, nervous. Her hands gripping mine tightly, her gaze on my somber face. I can only sigh at first.

“I think I feel liberated,” I answer truthfully. After years of hiding this, I didn’t even realize it was a burden on my shoulders. Always hiding it, always keeping at arms’ length so that no one gets close enough to find out. I smile with relief, weariness lifting off.

“Really?” she asks beaming.

“Our business relationship is over. Done.”

She looks confused, and frowns. “Will you liquidate the salon business?”

I actually snort in response. “Anastasia, I’m not that vindictive,” I say, reproving. “No. I’ll just gift them to her. I’ll talk to my lawyer on Monday. I owe her that much.”

She cocks her to the side, and arches her eyebrow in a quizzical manner. “No more Mrs. Robinson?” Oh, Ana, how you make light of any situation. My mouth twists in a repressed smile.

“Gone,” I say and her responding smile can light up the whole city of Seattle.

“I’m sorry you lost a friend,” she says.

Really Miss Steele? I shrug, then smirk at her. “Are you?” I ask in a tantalizing voice.

“No,” she says in a confession, blushing, chagrined. Somehow her response makes me happy. It means she’s jealous of me, possessive, and proprietor towards me. I love that in my woman.

“Come,” I say and take her hand. “Let’s join the party in our honor. I might even get drunk.”

“Do you get drunk?” she asks, slipping her hand into mine.

“Not since I was a wild teenager,” I reply as we make our way downstairs.

“Have you eaten?” I ask.

“No,” she replies in a small voice.

“Well, you should. From the look and smell of Elena, that was one of my father’s lethal cocktails you threw over her.” Remembering Elena’s livid face her sticky with Anastasia’s martini, I can’t help but feel amused.

“Christian, I...” she says but I hold my hand up and cut her off. I’m not chiding her.

“No arguing, Anastasia. If you’re going to drink and throw alcohol over my exes, you need to eat. It’s rule number one. I believe we’ve already had that discussion after our first night together.”

I steal a glance at her face, and some amused, and shy expression flitters through. I halt in the hallway, standing before her and caress her face, and jaw, remembering the first night I spent with her at Heathman Hotel.

“I lay awake for hours and watched you sleep,” I confess in a murmur. “I might have loved you even then.”

Her lips part at my confession and her breath hitches. I lean down, and kiss her softly on the lips, and her eyes close melting into our kiss.

“Eat,” I whisper into her lips.

“Okay,” she says, and I hold her hand and walk into the kitchen with my fiancée.

*****

The last two guests to leave the party are John and Rhian.

“Congratulations again, Ana. You two will be just fine,” says John smiling at her, and reassuring. They leave the house arm in arm like a happy couple that they are.

“Goodnight,” we both say in unison.

As soon as I close the door, I alight with excitement.

“Just the family left. I think my mother has had too much to drink,” I say hearing my mom’s jovial voice singing karaoke off key on the Wii.

“Do you blame her?” she asks smirking.

“Are you smirking at me, Miss Steele?”

“I am,” she replies.

“It’s been quite a day,” I say summarizing the events grossly underestimating the events.

“Christian, recently, every day with you has been quite a day,” she says sardonically.

“Fair point well made, Miss Steele. Come with me... I want to show you something,” I say nervous, excited, anxious, worried... did I say nervous? I take Anastasia’s hand, and we walk through the house the kitchen area where dad, Elliot and Ethan are talking about the Mariners games of the season, while drinking last of the cocktails and eating leftovers.

Elliot being a prick teases suggestively, “Off for a stroll, little bro?” But, I’m too nervous to pay any heed. My dad gives him a chiding frown, shaking his head to admonish my brother.

The weather is beautiful outside; half-moon is shining brightly over the bay, and the city lights twinkle in the distance, making shades of gray with the night sky. The lights of the boathouse are on. Good. My mother made sure that they were left on.

“Christian, I’d like to go to church tomorrow,” says Anastasia taking me by surprise.

“Oh?”

“I prayed that you’d come back alive and you did. It’s the least I could do,” she says taking my breath away.

“Okay,” I say to her. I could go with her. We walk hand in hand towards the boathouse for a few moments together. Anastasia turns her head to me to ask a question. “Where are you going to put the photos Jose took of me?”

“I thought you might want to put them in the new house,” I reply.

“You bought it?” she asks me surprised. I thought she loved the house. I halt in my track. Does she not want it now? My heart sinks all of a sudden. Is she unhappy that I bought it?

“Yes, I did. I thought you liked it.”

“I do. When did you buy it?”

“Yesterday morning. Now we need to decide what to do with it,” I say relief washing over me.

“Don’t knock it down, please!” she pleads with me. “It’s such a lovely house. It just needs some tender loving care.”

My girl; she’s always trying to fix things, seeing what’s good in them, instead of focusing on what’s wrong with them. I wouldn’t expect anything less from her. I smile at her response.

“Okay baby. I’ll talk to Elliot. He knows a good architect; she did some work on my place in Aspen. I’m sure Elliot can do the remodeling.”

All of a sudden Anastasia snorts. What? What did I say?

“What?” I ask.

“I remember the last time you took me to the boathouse.”

Oh yes, I find myself chuckling fondly of the memory. “Oh, that was fun. In fact...” I say and scoop Anastasia off the ground and put her on my shoulder making her squeal in delight.

“You were really angry, if I remember correctly,” she says gasping.

“Anastasia, I’m always really angry,” I reply.

“No, you’re not.”

I smack her ass as I reach the wooden door to the boathouse. I let her slide down to the ground, and take her precious hand in mine.

“No, you’re right. Not anymore,” I say as I lean down, and kiss her, hard, and passionately, all-consuming, fiery, and desirous. When we break the kiss, we’re both panting and breathless, hot, and bothered.

Anxiety and nervousness covers me like a blanket. I gaze down at her, and so worried of her reaction. She notices my tension, and without saying a word, she raises her hand gently up to my face caressing, running her fingers through my sideburns, my jaw and to my chin, and finally her index finger touches my lips. I close my eyes, instantly relaxing. When I opened them back up again, they’re burning with desire for her.

I swallow.

“I have something to show you in here,” I murmur in a barely audible voice, and open the door, letting her in. The motor launch in the dock bobbing up and down in the dark water, sitting next to a row boat.

“Come,” I say taking her hand and leading her up the wooden stairs. I open the door, and step back inviting her in.

This is the first time I’m seeing the room, and I realize that Janice and her crew did more than a wonderful job arranging the flowers by the looks of Anastasia’s reaction. Her jaw drops open. There are flowers everywhere. Flowers of all colors, meadow flowers, wild and exotic. There are glowing fairy lights, and miniature lanterns softly glowing around the room. The place looks like a page out of a fairytale. Completely magical. But, I want to know what she thinks. I’m still fucking nervous.

As if on cue, Anastasia’s face whips around to meet my expressionless gaze, although I’m anything but. I want her to love it, not just like it. I want her to remember this moment till her last breath. Yet I can only mange to shrug nonchalantly.

“You wanted hearts and flowers,” I murmur with blazing eyes.

“You have my heart,” I say in a small whisper, and then I wave my hand around to gesture for the rest of the sentence. She completes it for me.

(Just Say Yes by Snow Patrol)

“And here are the flowers,” she whispers.

“Christian, it’s absolutely lovely!” she says breathless.

I tug her hand and pull her into the room. My heart is a big thumping jungle drum at my throat trying to exit my body. And as soon as we’re in the room, I sink to the floor on one knee in front of her. Her mouth opens, unable to say a word. Nothing comes out... Not even the whisper of a breath.

I take the ring out of my pocket which I was going to have it placed like a flower, and then propose to her. You know, flower among flowers, jewel among jewels... one of a kind, like her.

I swallow hard, again, trying to pass a log through. All my love, and passion, and my heart in my hand before her, offered to her. All she has to do is to take it.

“Anastasia Steele. I love you. I want to love, cherish, and protect you for the rest of my life. Be mine. Always. Share my life with me. Marry me,” I ask.

Her eyes go wide, tears are at the meniscus threatening to fall in a flood of emotions. Her lips quiver and tremble. I can almost hear her heart beat like the wings of a humming bird, fast, and faster still. She blinks down and tears fall, and she says a clear, “Yes,” making me grin as wide as possible. I slide the ring on her finger. It’s an oval 14- carat Edwardian style cut oval diamond in a platinum ring. It’s simple, but raising the ordinary to extraordinary. Its simplicity is its beauty.

When you want something, and money is no object, almost anything you want, nearly anywhere, and at any time is quite possible. After I proposed to Anastasia rather awkwardly for the first time, I wanted to have this special moment with her. I wanted to make it up to her, dazzle her. I wanted to have something to do with the making of her ring. But being who I am, I didn’t want the information to be leaked as to not to get Anastasia be hounded by the paparazzi. The first thing Taylor did for me was to have the Jeweler sign an NDA without knowing who their client was. All the jeweler needed to know that Taylor has the money backing his search, and that he was authorized any amount of payment up to five million Dollars to cover the cost of any ring I chose. We had a private online showing of the diamonds before having it set into a platinum ring. After having gone through so many diamonds, and growing frustrated not finding something that spoke to me, I was about to give up with that particular jeweler. Then he said they have other diamonds which had just arrived, and though it was not cut yet, and not quite refined, it captured my eyes like the first time I met Anastasia. Diamond in the rough.  

Beautiful, and unrefined. Elegant, yet unassuming. I had my eyes set on this simple looking 14-carat diamond, and finally having chosen it, I had it set in this plain, but exquisite platinum ring. All transaction was handled anonymously. When that diamond was shown to me, I knew that its simplicity, its flawless look under the magnifier, however rough it still was on the surface, I realized that there was something special about it: the clarity of it that created more brilliance, it was nearly colorless. I knew that this stone would reflect Anastasia’s brilliance, her brand of beauty, only enhancing what she already has, and not diminish her elegance, take away or overshadow it. It’s unique as Anastasia. The ring was only completed this morning; Taylor was informed, and he picked it up.

He handed it to me saying, “Good luck sir!” in a rough voice. It’s been burning a hole in my pocket the whole day!

(Because You Loved Me by Celine Dion)



And here she loves it, taking my breath away!

“Oh, Christian,” she sobs, and sobs tears of joy, going down on her knees and joining me on the floor, kissing me hard, her hands fisted in my hair. She kisses me in such a passion, such fervor, such a demand that this moment our souls merge, and we truly belong to one another. In this moment, she’s my whole universe. In this moment, I read her soul and bare mine to her to do as she wishes. This kiss is my final surrender to her, and hers to me. She’s my woman. She’s half of my soul. She’s my first love, last love, every love. I am selfish. I want her all to myself, never wanting to share her even with her own shadow. I’m fucked up and insecure when it comes to her. I’m even insane, and out of control with my love for her. I am a fucking adolescent in the body of an adult. But she handles and loves me at my worst. How could I not want to offer her my best? Her love for me makes me want to be a better man.  

Her love for me makes me want to love her more as if my heart grew in leaps and bounds. I’m deeply, madly, irrevocably in love with this woman, and not even death shall separate us.

*****

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I don’t know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”

Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets



*****

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!

A farewell, and then forever!

Deep in heart-wring tears I’ll pledge thee,

Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee.

Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,

While the star of hope she leaves him?

Me, nae cheerful twinkle lights me,

Dark despair around benights me.

Robert Burns

*****

He poured himself over the news article.

“Seattle Times
June 18^th, 2011 – Saturday
 

Christian Grey, one of wealthiest men in the world, Number 2 in Seattle, only second to Bill Gates, and one of the higher management officials for the Grey Enterprises Incorporated, Ros Bailey have survived a helicopter crash near Silver Lake, WA with minimal injuries. Authorities credited Mr. Christian Grey’s piloting skills in surviving the crash and saving the life of Miss Ros Bailey. The police are not releasing any information until a full investigation is completed. But according to an unnamed source with the investigation, police suspect foul play. The source said that both the engines of the helicopter failed simultaneously. A statement released by the company confirms this dual engine failure. According to the statement released by the GEH, Mr. Grey’s EC135 Eurocopter helicopter had encountered technical problems and the helicopter’s engines failed as he was piloting it back from Portland to Seattle; but the company representatives are silent about the rumors of any foul play.

EC135 Eurocopter is one of the safest and most expensive in its class. Its high endurance and extended range enables this helicopter to perform a full range of mission requirements. The helicopter boasts a modern cockpit and avionics, as well as Eurocopter’s Fenestron tail rotor giving it high performance and outstanding maneuverability. The EC135 has been designed with a high degree of crashworthiness due to its energy-absorbing fuselage and seats along with crash-resistant fuel cells.”

The article ends, and the man’s face creases in anger.

“Fuck that son of a bitch! Your day will come Grey! Your day will come,” he says tossing the newspaper to the ground. He could hold a grudge. He could hold it for years, biding for his time. He made her pay, now it was his time to pay.

And what do you know? Grey stepped on someone else’s toes, too?

“Whose wife did you fuck this time Grey?” he murmurs. He would find out. And he would make sure the other fucker completes the job properly this time.

He sits back in his office chair. It squeaked under his weight. Despite being 47 years old, he is in the top shape of his life given his life style, and the constant rigorous work out. For a moment he is lost in thought, gone back in time to seven years ago.  He was on a business trip. It was supposed to be a big moneymaker for the Lincoln Timber. But it was going to take him at least a week.

“I don’t want to go. You know you’ll be gone to meetings all day and working all evening. I’ll be completely bored. And besides...” she said trailing her hand over his chest, opening the buttons one by one, she continued her sensual assault purring in his ear, “you’ll miss me more, and I’ll miss you. You can tie me on the wooden cross, and punish me for not coming with you.” His eyes narrowed. It was a proposition that made him all kinds of hard. Punish and fuck! Yes, he was going to be tired anyway and he wasn’t taking any toys with him. He needed to be shooting on all his pistons. Elena would be a distraction.

“Wooden cross, and the flogging table,” he said in a husky voice.

Having opened the last button, she snuck her hands under the shirt on the shoulders and slowly pushed his shirt down. A shiver ran through him. He loved this. He loved when she took charge, and he loved it when he punished and fucked her.

His trip ended quicker than he anticipated. It was only the second day of his trip, he sealed the deal, and returned home to Seattle from East Coast eager to flog and fuck his wife.

He came to an empty house.  He called his wife’s cell phone. In an even tone he asked, “Hi, where are you?”

“At home, reading. And you?”

He paused, but decided to play along. “Just made it to the hotel. I’m looking forward to my reward when I get home,” he said, but only he noticed the menace in his voice.

“Me, too,” she replied.

After they hung up, he called the credit card companies and checked to see where his wife was spending his money, what she was doing. He was surprised to see trips to Cambridge, MA every time he was out of town as far back as he could retrieve the statements, but the trips stopped about a month ago. What was she up to?  Bank statements... He needed to look into bank statements. Two of their joint accounts contained nothing out of the ordinary. She had a household account to her name. There were four large deposits from various accounts they both held. A total of $100,000 deposit made into the account, and the same day it left the account in the name of one Christian Grey!

Christian Grey? Carrick and Grace Grey’s son? They didn’t lack money. They were as well to do as anyone in the neighborhood. Why would Elena give him money? Unless... Unless... she was fucking him! On occasion, he permitted Elena to add another girl, or even a male submissive into the equation. But never without his permission! He was her dom. He owned her ass! And to think she gives that Grey shit money?

Elena never came home that night. When she sauntered back home late next day in the afternoon, she was surprised to find him home.

“I’ve missed you and since I finished work early, I thought I’d come home and claim my prize,” he said with a licentious smile. She quickly gathered herself with evident relief in her eyes.

“Oh, I’m so pleased. I was shopping,” she said all too quickly.

“Really? What have you bought?”

“Nothing caught my fancy, so I decided against it.”

“Did Christian Grey come with you?” he asked nonchalantly, stopping her in her tracks. She fumbled with nerves.

“Christian...who... Grey? Grace’s son? Why... I don’t understand.” she sounded flustered.

“What do you take me for Elena? Hmm? Do you think I’m as fucking stupid as you are?”

“Did you give him a 100 grand for fucking you?” All the blood drained from her face.

“How do you know that? I mean no!” she says but the backhand he delivers to her face splits her lip, and the accidental bite of her cheek punctures a hole on her chin. Blood gushes out, and in to her mouth. He grabs her blonde hair and yanks it down capturing her mouth tasting the blood in his, and bites her lower lip forcefully short of ripping it off like Evander Holyfield’s ear! All the blood from her lip gushes into her mouth and his and he swallows it greedily, and then holding her hair with one hand he slaps her hard again on the other cheek.



“You decided to fuck someone else without my permission?” he yells with murderous rage. His blue eyes are icy shards, gone mad with borderline insanity.

"But sometimes you add someone into mix!"

“I make the decisions Elena. Not you! I’m going to beat you an inch of your life Elena! When I’m through with you, you will regret ever fucking anyone else without my consent!”

Her eyes go wide and screams.

“Red! Red!” she screams blood dripping from her mouth.

“Red? How long have you fucked him?” her hair still in his grasp.

“Red!!”

“How long Elena?”

“Red!” she screams again, and he punches her feeling the crack of her ribs under his satisfying blow.

“How long have you fucked him?”

She’s doubled on the floor. He yanked her up by her now bloodied blonde hair. He brings her to his eye level. “How long?” he asked in a calm, menacing tone.

“S...” she gasps. He yanked her again. An incoherent “s... si...six... years!” His eyes go wide! He punched her again and she lifted her arms in defense, and her wrist broke under his punch.

“You fucked a kid? Bitch! Oh, that is priceless. You should have told me.”

"So, you fuck him too?" the idea never crossed his mind, but he if he did, he wouldn't be this angry.

"I don't particularly like them at that age. But if you wanted to fuck him, you had to ask my permission which you failed. I had to be the one in charge. I'm the better one, remember?" 

“Better one? He was better than you at... at... at... 15 than you...” gasps, “in your prime!” she somehow gathered her strength to spew this last poison at her husband.

“I think I will gag you!” he said on that ominous day, and by the time he was through with her, one side of her face is nearly caved in, the other beaten to a pulp. She had three broken ribs, broken wrist, arm, and bruises in places only the Dominants know existed.

“Now, bitch!” he said to her.

“Here’s how this is going to go down. I’m still out of town. And one of my employees found you. If you dare to press charges, I will expose you and Grey boy! You will be indicted for child molestation charges. Be a disgrace to the community, and I’ll be the husband who couldn’t stand his wife’s child abuse, and lost it! Who do you think the law will be lenient on?”

She was barely moving on the floor.

“File charges, we both go to jail. Keep silent; you get a good settlement from the divorce! Take it or leave it! No negotiation! No money, nothing if you press charges, and I will make sure you are branded as a child molester for life! Do you accept the deal?” he asked forcefully.

There is a barely perceptible nod from Elena on the floor. That’s how they found her in a couple of hours in her car outside of the city. She kept her end of the bargain. Now, it’s time for the Grey fucker to pay. Oh, he would pay, now that he knew there was someone else he could ally with. He would make Christian Grey pay dearly with everything he got! Nothing off limits... Nothing.

NEXT UPDATE: Wednesday, October 17th. Gotta catch up with work until then.