BOOK III - CHAPTER I - Christian and Anastasia Fanfiction

I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. (William Butler Yates)



CHAPTER I

I’m lost in the moment, time stretches, and my woman is in my arms, our kiss lingering. I love her beyond love. What is beyond love? Love feels like a simple emotion compared to what I feel for Anastasia. What I wouldn’t do for her? Simply nothing... There isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for her. I would take her any way she would be willing to have me; I’m not too proud to admit that whatever she gives me, I will take, and she gave me all of her.



“Mrs. Christian Grey,” I say reverently, and she smiles as wide as she can. Her smile lights up my world in more ways than one. Desire courses through my veins, and instantly I am on top of her.

All I want is you - U2



“I need you Ana! You’re all I think about, all I feel... Sometimes it’s hard to function. If I loved you any more, I don’t know if I could do anything else, but be in you 24/7 around the clock.” I whisper fervently into her lips with all the intensity of my emotions. Her eyes widen; the pupils are getting bigger nearly covering all her blue until it’s just a small rim of blue around the black. It is so fucking hot! I have to have her, here, and now! My cock is in full salute mode, and I rub it on her sex; my erection is protesting its confinements, raring to get out. As I rub myself on her even with my pants and her dress as barriers between us, the sensation she’s feeling is too much for her to bear; she tilts her head to the side, her eyes roll back as she moans with pleasure.

With ragged breath and racing heart, her fingers fumble shakily with my zipper, and instantly her hand is inside my boxers, rubbing my erection and cupping my balls. I groan loudly and push my hips into her greedy hand.

“Let’s get you naked, baby,” I say anxiously. I’ve never wanted her as much as I do now, and considering I’m a halfcocked gun for her almost all the time, this is saying a lot.

(Celine Dion - Alone)

*****

Anastasia’s back arches, and her hands fist the flowers that she has been laying upon the floor of the boathouse. I pin her effectively under me on the floor;  the dull lights in the boathouse, the sea of vibrantly colored wild flowers, the rustic walls, and the sounds of the lazily lapping water below the boathouse create a magical place to make love in.

Anastasia’s hair gets damp with all the exertions, and a thin sheen of sweat covers my body. My lips travel to her neck and she turns her head to the side to allow me easier access to her. I nip her jaw, and neck and slowly make my way within the valley of her breasts. My thumb and forefinger captured her nipple, and I roll it, and tug it as I capture her other nipple with my mouth; I suck her deep and hard making her shout my name out loud, “Christian! Please!”

I give her a lascivious grin with her nipple between my teeth tugging it gently. “All in good time baby... I want to make love to you,” I murmur.

“Please, I want you so much. I’m ready now!” she says pushing her hips up to meet my eager cock, but I stop her by clamping her body between my legs.

“Slow, baby, slow... Savor it...” I urge her. My mouth and lips move down to her belly and my tongue assaults the small tight hole of her belly button, as my hand cups her sex palming her clit, and dipping one and then two fingers into her inviting, now drenched sex. My other hand effectively rolls, tugs at her nipple and knowing the sensations will travel to her core; she moans in response, and her body almost levitates off the ground with pure pleasure.

“Christian please, take me!”

My mouth travels to her sex, and finds her eager bloom. I nip at her sensitive spot lightly and she nearly convulses. I swirl her core, and her clit, and dip my tongue into her tight opening, rolling it inside of her counter clockwise, touching her sensitive spot on the front wall of her vagina; assaulting her relentlessly. As my hand pleasures her breast, my tongue is making love to her; I use my other hand to rub her clit, and her pleasure scale tips over and she gets her double orgasm. As the waves of orgasm are rolling over her body, and contracting her inner core, I hover over her, and sink my aching cock inside her inch by inch. When I’m balls deep, I stop for a second and enjoy our oneness, unity, and connection. It’s almost heavenly, as we are now one body, and one soul. The waves of her orgasms are still rolling through her and the contractions inside her sex are pulling me deeper, urging, and begging for the friction my cock can provide and I oblige. I pull back slowly, and raveling in the response her body is giving me, sink back in as her sex pulls me back deeper to that special spot begging to be rubbed, and touched, and alerted, ringing all the bells, and firing all the synapses within her body.

My lips find hers, and I slowly start kissing her, matching my pace with her sex. Slowly, leisurely, savoring, feeling every little movement, wanting it last forever. Our lips mold to each other, I suck at her lower lip, and she moans with pleasure in my mouth, and it triggers some desire in me firing me up, and my tongue dips into her mouth finding hers, and fucking each other in both ends, and when I suck her tongue, her hips automatically lifts up, making my cock find the deepest spot in her, and her legs wrap around me, pushing my ass, urging my hips to remain locked a little longer. I gyrate my hip in that particular spot without pulling out, rubbing that special place in circles, and I feel her building up again. It excites me more, and I pull back, and increase my tempo and speed. My cock goes in and out relentlessly pounding into her, our lips locked, her nails digging into my back, something I couldn’t tolerate before, and now, I can’t live without. As one of my hands holding her exquisite ass to help my cock to get deeper still, the other is rolling, and tugging her nipples.

Anastasia shouts her pleasure in my mouth, making me reach to my peak, and I groan an incoherent rendition of her name, and pour everything I’ve got in her, marking my woman, fucking and making love, merging our bodies and souls all at the same time. I finally collapse on her,  thoroughly fucked and completely sated.

*****

“Can we marry tomorrow?” I murmur to her. I don’t think I can handle not having her one hundred percent completely belonging to me for much longer. Not just as a girlfriend, not just as a fiancé, but I want her as my wife. I want her every way possible. I want everyone to recognize her as mine, as I am hers and that we belong to each other. I want to be legally recognized as the one who can make decisions for her; I want to be her next to kin, and I want her to be mine. I want to be the one who is responsible for her, where she is recognized as my wife, and I, her husband. Hell, I want it to be recognized in the sight of God, to seal the deal for all eternity! What God has joined together, let no man put asunder. That’s what I want out of our relationship... I want forever! I want what’s beyond forever.   

She murmurs a dazed, “Hmmm,” as she lies on my chest, as I am sprawled on the floor among the meadow flowers.

“Is that yes?” I ask hopefully. It sounded like an affirmation.

“Hmmm.”

“A no?”

“Hmmm.” I grin at her sated, exhausted response. I’m pleased to find out, I can have that effect on my woman. 

“Miss Steele, are you incoherent?”

“Hmm.” I can feel her grin, and her response makes me laugh with joy. I hug her tightly and kiss the top of her head.

“Alright, it’s decided. Vegas, tomorrow, it is then.”

She raises her sleepy head, “I don’t think my parents would be very happy with that,” she replies.

Well, I don’t want to be on the bad side of my in-laws. What does she want? I contemplate as I absently thrum my fingertips on her gloriously naked back like the ominous four horsemen of the apocalypse. I stop it with the thought, and just caress her gently.

“What do you want, Anastasia? Vegas? A big wedding with all the trimmings? Tell me.” I don’t want to shortchange her of her dreams because I want to have her immediately. I want her to be part of the decision. I want her to remember the beginning of forever. I am told repeatedly by my sister that all little girls imagine their wedding day. I wouldn’t want Anastasia to be deprived of that if I can help it.

“Not big... Just friends and family.” I can do that. I can do anything she wants. Vegas, small, big, anything in-between. I just want her...in any shape and form she’ll have me.

She gazes at me trying to gauge my reaction.

“Okay,” I say nodding. “Where would you like to have it?”

“Your folks’ place? Would they mind?” she asks. Mind? I can already imagine my mother screaming in that way that I now come to equate with pure ecstasy.

I make a rude sound. “My mother would be in seventh heaven to say the least.”

“Okay, here then. I’m sure my mom and dad would prefer that,” she replies softly. I stroke her hair, push the strands that came loose with our lovemaking behind her hair. Pure bliss...

“So, we’ve established where, now the when.”

“Surely you should ask your mother,” she says as if I could grant my mother an endless amount of time.

Everything I do, I do it for you - Bryan Adams

“Hmm.” She would want a very long time, as is the tradition in the upper crust of the society to get everything perfect, and nice, and print worthy in the society pages, but, I don’t give a shit about that. I will only grant her the maximum amount of time I can tolerate without having Anastasia as my wife. “She can have a month, that’s it. I want you too much to wait any longer.”

“Christian, you have me,” scolds Anastasia. “You’ve had me for a while. But okay-a month it is,” she says kissing my chest, a gesture I couldn’t tolerate before, but now it’s something I desire immensely. She lifts her head up to look at me and we lock gazes. She smiles in that way that tugs at my heart strings. My lips descend on hers effectively silencing her and we make love once again on the bed of flowers.

(Celine Dion - A New Day  Has Come)

♥ ❤♥ ❤♥ ❤♥ ❤♥ ❤♥ ❤♥ ❤♥ ❤♥ ❤♥ ❤♥ ❤♥ ❤♥ 

The phone rings insistently. It is only 8:01.

“Olivia!” shrieks Andrea.

“You should never let the phone ring more than three times!”

“Oh, God! I’m so sorry!” she says fumbling on her words, and her voice cracks when she answers it.

“Good morning. Grey Enterprises Holdings. This is Olivia. How may I help you?” she says swallowing, and hoping that it isn’t Mr. Grey. He scares the hell out of her, and makes her jumpier than Mexican jumping beans.

“Olivia!” says a soft crooning male voice on the other end of the phone. “Listen sweetie,” he draws on the word instantly calming Olivia’s jumpy heart. “Mr. Grey,” he says, then correcting himself adding, “Christian I mean, apparently got engaged on Saturday, and he forgot to send me an invitation to the celebration. I’m sure it was an oversight given that he had that horrendous accident only the day before. Although, we’re not as close friends as I would like us to be, but we have had a dinner or two together, and I was wondering, sweetheart, do you by any chance know her name?”

Olivia clears her throat. She wants to be helpful. This is her Job Number 1. Andrea insists on it. Her scrutinizing gaze is on her already, assessing her every word, every gesture. The first thing Andrea told her when she started her internship is that she has to smile into the phone. The recipient of the smile may not see her, but the smile would be carried through her voice. She really wants stay at GEH permanently once her internship is over. It’s after all the best company in Seattle. So she smiles as big as possible into the receiver.

“Who’s name sir?” Olivia asks in her most professional voice.

“Christian’s fiancée of course darling. I’m sure he told his staff about getting engaged. This is after all Christian Grey!”

Olivia racks her brain. She knew they all had a standing order to get Miss Anastasia Steele through, because she is his girlfriend. Mr. Grey had never been the same since he started seeing her. Even Ros was getting curious about it, and she’s been there the longest. They were all trying to pry it out of Taylor. So, he must be serious about her. He had a meeting with her and Andrea that Miss Steele was to have top priority. No matter what he is doing, she is to be put through the phone, or find him.

“Olivia? Are you there sweetheart?” He sounds so sweet. She hates disappointing him. She clears her throat, and Andrea crosses her eyebrows. She must have sounded unprofessional.

“Yes, sir, I’m here,” she answers in her most professional and charming tone.

He must have smiled into the phone, because his voice is even sweeter now. “You see, I’m a bit disappointed, but I was hoping to send a gift basket and flowers for the happy couple. It’d be a dreadful shame and disrespectful if I didn’t know her name to put on the gift basket and the flowers.”

“Oh, of course, sir. But, I’m not sure if Mr. Grey and Miss Steele are engaged. We weren’t told anything, yet.”

“Did you say Miss Steele? What’s her first name?”

“Anastasia..” blurts out Olivia.

Andrea’s eyes go wide, and they’re about to jump out of their sockets; her color turns into a mix of crimson and puce in an instant, she looks like she is going to blow her top, and they call her “Frosty.” She looks more like the She-Devil now and walks in her 4 inch heels briskly towards Olivia.

The man in the phone knows that his time is short when he hears, “Olivia!” through the earpiece of the receiver.

“Are they engaged?” he asks hastily.

Olivia knowing she is in deep shit, answers, “I’m sorry sir, I’ve no way of confirming or denying Miss Steele and Mr. Grey are engaged!” and Andrea grabs the phone out of her hand, and icily speaks into the mouth piece.

“What tabloid are you calling from?”

“Who said I was calling from a tabloid? I work freelance. Now I can sell the info to the highest bidder. Good day!” he says and the phone goes dead.

Andrea turns on her heels to glare at Olivia who is now wishing the floor would crack open and swallow her. Andrea looks like Mount Saint Helen spewing shards of ice, and Olivia is on the receiving end.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” laments Andrea with her eyes bulging, her cool is slipping. She paces around in her high heels clicking on the marble floors decidedly as if she’s stepping all over Olivia who now flinches her eyes brimming with tears.

“I’m so sorry!” she whispers fervently. 

“Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you got us both in?” She opens her mouth to spew again, but the phone rings once more. Olivia whimpers and her hand reaches out to the phone automatically.

“Hold it!” Andrea speaks sternly and she runs to the phone so fast, Olivia imagines that Andrea looks like Usain Bolt in high heels in reaching to the phone. Andrea picks the receiver up, and answers in such a calm and professional voice, Olivia thinks she imagined being yelled at only twenty seconds ago.

“Good morning, GEH. Christian Grey’s office. This is Andrea speaking. How may I help you?”

“Good morning Andrea. This is Anthony Decimus. I’m Alex Pella’s secretary. Mr. Pella has flown upon Mr. Grey’s request from overseas. However he had to leave an important business unfinished, therefore he must return once completing his examination of Mr. Grey’s helicopter. Mr. Pella has seen the EC135 and he would like to share his findings with Mr. Grey. When can he see him today?” He sounds cultured, other worldly, well educated, and completely in charge.

“Oh, Mr. Decimus...” Andrea starts.

“Anthony, please,” he corrects her.  

“I’m not sure what time Mr. Grey is coming in today, but he is coming. I know that Mr. Grey would be most anxious to speak with Mr. Pella as we’ve been trying to reach him. What is Mr. Pella’s schedule like today?”

“Mr. Pella dedicated this entire day for Mr. Grey. We are currently at Boeing Head and he’s still examining the helicopter, ma’am. Shall we say after lunch at GEH?”

“Yes, I believe that would work, but just in case we have to make adjustments, would you give me a contact number to reach you?”

“Certainly.”

Just then Andrea heard Christian Grey’s sure steps followed by stealthy steps of Taylor. Andrea jots down the number, and after hanging up the phone she grabs her tablet, and ready to greet her boss.

“Olivia! Is there fresh coffee?”

“Yes, Andrea, there is,” answers Olivia rubbing her eyes violently before Mr. Grey shows up right around the corner.

“Hop to it! Mr. Grey is here!”

And Christian Grey with an unusually cheerful face and Taylor in his usual unreadable face walk into the reception area.

“Good morning Mr. Grey!” the girls greet him in unison and as usual Olivia jumping to her feet.

“Morning!” he replies, and walks into his office as he answers his cell phone in such soft swooning voice.

“Hi Baby!” he says into the speaker but a shriek coming from the phone halts not only Christian Grey in his tracks but everyone else present. Christian’s entire body immediately tenses. Taylor’s body language mirrors his boss’s. He is so attuned to Christian Grey, when Christian thinks of walking, Taylor moves. He is like an extension of his body, a separate limb.

“What?” he screams.

Everyone freezes in the office.

“Where is Sawyer?”

“Okay. Stay right there! We’re coming.” Disconnecting his phone, he eyes Taylor grimly. “Let’s go!” he says.

Olivia and Andrea just stare at each other, scared and puzzled.

“What the hell just happened?” says Andrea looking after the back of her boss.

Danger Zone - Kenny Loggins

♥ ❤♥ ❤♥ ❤♥ ❤♥ ❤♥ ❤♥ ❤♥ ❤♥ ❤♥ ❤♥ ❤♥ ❤♥ 

“Are we going to SIP Mr. Grey?”

“No. To the deli by the corner of her work.”

“Deli, sir?” Taylor asks confused.

“Yes! The fucking paparazzi cornered her in the bathroom!” I growl on our way out.

I punch the elevator call button; it couldn’t come soon enough. My foot tapping nervously, as soon as the elevator dings open, I walk in with Taylor. He is on the phone with Sawyer.

“Get the fucking paparazzi out! Have the staff take her to a back room, a lockable room should they have one.”

He listens, and I extend my hand out to the phone.

“Sawyer, where is Miss Steele?”

“She’s in the bathroom sir, a bit shaken. I’m so sorry Mr. Grey. I couldn’t possibly go into the ladies room with her. She asked me to purchase a scone as she walked into the rest room. I came to the bathroom door waiting for her as soon as I bought her pastry. I was waiting at the door, and I just heard her scream. Of course I barged in, and some paparazzi standing atop the other stall was trying to snap pictures of her from above!”

“What the fuck?!” I roar.

“I broke his camera, and...uhm... I might have broken his nose. He said he’d sue.”

“The fucker tries to take a picture of my fiancée in a ladies bathroom and he wants to sue me for having you for protecting her? Fuck that! Where is Ana?”

“She’s not coming out of the bathroom Mr. Grey. She’s too shaken. So, I’m just not letting anybody into the bathroom; I’m standing right in front of the bathroom door. The owner put a sign before the door here. It’s deterring others from entering.” I ran my hand through my hair exasperated. The elevator door opens in the Garage level. We run to the SUV.

“By the way Mr. Grey there is a small army of photographers and paparazzi waiting to ambush outside. When Taylor drives you, have him pull up to the back of the deli, there is a delivery entrance for receiving. Frankly sir, the state Miss Steele is in, I don’t think there’s any way we can make it back to SIP on foot with Miss Steele being so upset.”

Taylor opens the door to the SUV, and I slide in still talking.

“You’re not going to walk! We’re coming. Have the owner close the place down now. One hour only. I’ll pay double the cost, whatever he’s going to make by closing the place down. We need to use the delivery access.”

“Yes, sir!” and I hand the phone back to Taylor.

“ETA is 8 minutes, Sawyer,” Taylor says in an even tone, and listens.

“The same rules apply. It’s a fucking emergency, and there’ll be more of it in the near future. Secure the scene... Yes... Okay... See you in six!” and hangs up and hits the gas.

I’m so fucking angry! I hope to God the fucking photographer is not there, or else I’ll kill him! Tension is exuding all over my body. When we reach the deli, the SUV’s tires screech in the back of the receiving. There’s a giant trash container that Taylor narrowly avoids hitting before coming to a full stop. I rush out the door, and Taylor mutters a curse under his breath before he doubles behind me. The door is open and a teenage boy with zits all over his face is manning the back entry.

 “Who are you man? No one’s supposed to enter here!” he says in a courageous but awkward voice.

Sawyer immediately appears when he hears the teenager.

“Thank you Jason. He’s Mr. Grey.”

With the mention of my name he gives me a big grin. “She’s right in there,” he says pointing to the restroom. A quick glance to the place tells me that there are only employees here who are idly cleaning around, and Taylor finds the owner immediately to take care of business.

“Sawyer,” I say nodding at him to the side.

“Yes, sir,” he replies in an even tone which is commendable because I am in a murderous mood.  

“Where’s the fucker?”

“He left in the police custody. Someone from here called the police.”

“Did they talk to Anastasia?”

“No, sir. She was too upset and refused to talk to anyone until you got here.” I nod. I walk into the bathroom nervous not knowing what state I’m going to find Anastasia in. I push the door open, and I look down with the crunch of broken glass under my feet. The camera. There is still a trail of dripped and dried blood on the floor.

“Go away!” comes the sound from one of the stalls.

“Is that how you greet your fiancée?” I reply relieved.

The stall door opens and hits the wall immediately, and I find Anastasia hurling herself at me. Her eyes are red from crying, and she clings to me, her heart still beating fast, and her tears start rolling anew.

“Shhh... I’m here now. What happened?” I say trying to keep the tension away from my voice.

“I don’t know, Christian. This guy just peeked from the side stall and said, ‘Miss Steele? Miss Anastasia Steele?’ I automatically said ‘yes’, and he started snapping pictures of me in the bathroom from above. I couldn’t move! I felt so...so... exposed,” she says shaking. “I must have screamed. Then Sawyer rushed in and I heard him yanking the guy off the stall and then there was a fight...” she says between sobs.

“Fuck! Did he see you exposed?”

“I was sitting on the stall, my skirt lifted, and my panties down. No, I don’t think he got a good look at my ass, but I was so scared!” she snaps at me.

“I have to up the security,” I say angrily. I didn’t want her to go to work today, hell, I don’t want her to go to work, ever! I can take care of her.

“Why did you come to the deli? Didn’t you have enough breakfast?” trying to change the topic to calm both of us down.

“I did. Just that I remembered their scones, and wanted to have one for later with my tea. Sawyer said ‘I’ll get it for you Miss Steele,’ and I told him I’d go to the ladies room. I wasn’t expecting a man to follow me here,” she says hugging me tighter.

“Shall I take you home?” I ask. She shakes her head violently.

“I.... no. I want to go to work.” I want to protest, and I’m getting infuriated by the second, but I rein in my anger.

“Anastasia, you were nearly attacked by a fucking paparazzi. There’ll be more of that in the future now that they got a whiff of who I’m marrying. I can protect you better if I can keep you home,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Christian, you can’t keep me home all the time. I’m not an eye candy, or an arm decoration. I’m my own person. I want to work. I was just...shocked by the ambush. Had I known this would have happened, I would be more cautious. It’s the way he approached me that scared me. In the bathroom stall for God’s sake!”

“Ana, I’m a high profile man. There’s not only the paparazzi, but all kinds of people I’d like to protect you from. People with wealth have a lot of enemies, or opportunistic jackals. Once they know you’re in my life, you’re in danger. I have to protect you. But you have to let me! You need to listen to me, and follow directions.”

“Christian...” she starts protesting in a way only Anastasia can.

“Anastasia,” I say firmly. “Your safety is not negotiable. If you want to work, fine. But, you have to follow the security protocols. You’re not under the radar anymore. You’re visible. It would kill me if anyone harmed you in anyway because of me. Do you understand that?” I say fervently taking her head into my hands. She nods reluctantly. Once we get married, once she’s mine completely, she will promise me in the sight of God and everyone else to obey me. For now, I can remain silent for a little while longer, or spank the shit out of her which clearly the second option is out. Fuck!

“So, work it is then. But, don’t leave the building. Taylor and I will collect you after work. Got it?”

“Yes, Christian,” she says hugging me tighter.

“We just announced our engagement Saturday night to only your family and friends. How did they learn about it so quickly?”

“Paparazzi’s nose smells the bachelor blood and high profile engagements, marriages, or scandals like the blood hound within hundred miles of radius,” I say. “Now that the cat’s out of the bag, we have to make a formal announcement. I’ll talk to PR when I get back to the office.” She nods.

Every Breath You Take - Sting



*****

We drive the short distance to SIP and go to the back entrance of the publisher as the front of the building has a small army of photographers waiting. I make a mental note to talk to Welch to up the security in the building. I walk Anastasia all the way to her office, and ask her again if she really must wants to stay at work today even though I know what her response would be.

“Yes, Christian. I need to learn to deal with it. If this is the package that comes with you, I accept it,” she says hitching my breath. She takes me at my worst, how can I not desire to give her my very best?

“Ana?”

“Yes?”

“I’m so glad you called me. I want to be the one who comes to you to meet all your needs. I want to be the one saving you, although I’m fucking mad that it happened, that some fucker violated your privacy in such a crude manner. So, no going out, until I get you, okay?”

“Yes, Christian,” she replies.

“Good girl. We need to get you an assistant, so she can get your scones, and lunches from now on,” I say and kiss her.

“She?”

“Yes, a ‘she’. I can’t bear it if a man was working for you, and seeing you longer than I do in any given day,” I say firmly.

“Okay,” she acquiesces.  “I love you Christian.”

My gaze softens, “and I, you, Ana.”

*****

When Taylor and I walk back to into my office, both Andrea and Olivia jump to their feet.

“Andrea, bring your tablet and come in right away!” I say without a preamble. She doubles her steps behind me.

“Is everything alright this morning sir?” she manages to ask.

“No, damn it! They ambushed my fiancée in a public restroom. Does that sound like everything’s alright?”

“Your fiancée sir?”

“Miss Anastasia Steele and I are engaged. That’s what I need you for, right now. I want you to get in touch with the PR, and we need to formally announce our engagement, and I’ll provide you with a picture so that they don’t go ambushing Anastasia in bathrooms!”

“Paparazzi, sir?” she asks swallowing, looking uneasy.

“Yes. Is there something you need to tell me?”

Andrea stands straight, hold her head higher, nervously tug a non-existing strand of hair behind her ear, and hug onto her tablet like a life raft. My gaze pierces her,  and my jaw tightens.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Grey. This morning, someone called the GEH pretending to be your friend, and he said he was going to send a gift basket and flowers to congratulate your engagement, and asked your fiancée’s name. I’m sorry to say that I was unable to get to the phone before Olivia said she didn’t know whether you and Miss Steele were engaged.”

“What? Fuck! Fuck!” I yell, and jump to my feet, walk to the door with brisk footsteps, and open the door wide.

“Olivia! Get in here!”

Olivia’s face goes crimson immediately, and walks into my office with faltering steps.

“Yes Mr. Grey,” she says swallowing, her eyes brimming with tears which I have no sympathy for.

“What exactly did you tell the paparazzi?”

“He wasn’t exactly paparazzi Mr. Grey. He told Andrea that he was working freelance,” she says and even Taylor rolls his eyes.

“Are you fucking stupid or what? He wasn’t working for one tabloid! He was working for all! Do you know the misery you’ve put Miss Steele through this morning? Would you have liked it if paparazzi were trying to snap ‘candid pictures’ of you when you were peeing in a public restroom?”

“I’m so sorry Mr. Grey. I did tell him that I couldn’t confirm or deny that you and Miss Steele were engaged!” she utters. My chest is heaving in anger, and I run both my hands in exasperation.

“Are you completely insane? He was trying to find out who Anastasia was, and you gave it to him freely! You set Anastasia up for an ambush! Fuck that!”

She starts sobbing.

“Stop with the waterworks, and get the hell out of my office! I don’t want to see you for the rest of the day!” I bellow.

“Am I fired, sir?”

“If you keep standing there, you will be! I don’t want to see such incompetence again at such a price. Andrea, send her to training for her to learn what I require from my immediate staff. “ Andrea stares at me.

“Now!” I yell, making her jump.

You have to give it Andrea the proper credit for being one of the few people who can take my glare, and not wither under it.

“Yes, sir. I will attend to it immediately. However, Mr. Pella is in town, and he is only in town for today. His secretary called asking for a meeting with you this afternoon. He has examined Charlie Tango, and would like to share his findings with you, preferably after lunch at GEH, sir. I have to call and confirm the time with him. Although he has said that Mr. Pella is dedicating today for you, so anytime you’d like to meet him, sir. Mr. Pella will be departing for overseas again to tend an unfinished business at the end of today. Would after lunch be a good time for you to meet Mr. Pella sir?” she says in one and a half breath in rapid fire.

I take a deep breath, and exhale.

“Yes, clear out my afternoon schedule. I don’t know how long this would take.”

“Yes, sir,” she replies.

“Oh, Andrea. Here’s the letter I would like to be couriered along with the check drawn for  Len and Evelyn Mattson,” I say extending the envelope.

“Have you had the check drawn in their name?” I ask.

“Yes, sir. I have the paperwork here, for you to sign,” she says extending the paperwork and I quickly render my signature.

“I want this to be sent out today,” I say as I extend the paperwork back to her.

“Mr. Grey?”

“Yes?” I reply sternly.

“Your father called, and asked if you could have lunch with him at Rover’s sir. He has made reservations.”

“Has he now?”

“He was a bit insistent, sir,” she says strained.

My gaze goes to Taylor in his usual corner. He looks his usual taciturn self. The only thing that gives his amusement away is the slight glimmer in his eyes.

“Fine. Let’s get over with it. What time?”

“At noon sir.”

“Tell him I’ll be there.”

“I will schedule Mr. Pella for 2:00 p.m. today which should give you plenty of time to get back sir.”

“Fine,” I say with finality in my voice, and Andrea takes her cue and leaves my office.

I get to my computer and type Anastasia a message.

__________________________________________________________________

From: Christian Grey

Subject: wish we were home

Date: June 20, 2011 11:04

To: Anastasia Steele

Baby, we both should have stayed home today and lost in each other. Are you feeling better? I really wish you didn’t work. I can take care of you, you know. Call me if you need anything.

Christian Grey

Missing my fiancée CEO, Grey Enterprises Inc.

PS: I love you

PPS: Remembering  you, a flower among flowers in the magic of last night is what is getting me through today.

__________________________________________________________________

Her response doesn’t take too long to reach my e-mail box.

__________________________________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Re: wish we were home

Date: June 20, 2011 11:07

To: Christian Grey

Christian, I have to work. I want to work. Let’s not hash this again, please. Although I too wish that we were at home and lost in each other. Better yet, at the boat house, among the wild flowers, and making love. Lots of it.  It was... the best night of my life. Ever!

ILY

A x

__________________________________________________________________

Best night, eh? For me as well. I love her so much the thought of someone might harm her is like a rusty knife twisting in my heart. I can’t have her exposed to threats, and dangers because of who I am. And Anastasia being Anastasia won’t listen to me. It is both refreshing, and excruciating. Both poison and antidote. How can I make her listen to me? How can I make her obey me so she is not exposed to any danger. Any harm. How?

One more month... One more months and she will have no choice but to obey me. Because she’ll be promising obedience before God and however many people we decide to invite to our wedding. The thought gives me serenity in this fucking chaotic day.

I will promise her this in my wedding vows:

‘I, Christian Trevelyan Grey, take thee, Anastasia Rose Steele, to be my lawful wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.’

And she will give me her promise.

‘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.’

Yes, I will feel immensely better when she promises to obey me.

“Mr. Grey, we should get going if you are going to meet your father for lunch sir.”

I get up, and see what gave my father a burning desire to have lunch with me despite the fact he’s seen me all evening yesterday. I can think of one reason. And that has to be nipped in the bud.

“Let’s go,” I say more determined than ever.

*****

“Mr. Grey, it’s an honor to have you here sir. Your company is waiting for you in the private dining area. If you please follow me this way, sir,” says the Maître D leading the way to a private, out of the prying eyes dining room.

When we enter into the dining room, my father stands up greeting me as another man stands up with him in his three piece professional, screaming ‘I-am-an-expensive-divorce-lawyer’ suit.

“Dad,” I greet him apprehensively. Taylor’s gaze looks impassive, but he too is displeased. He doesn’t like surprises if he’s not prepared for them.

My father notices my intonation, and conveniently ignores it.

“Christian, this is my colleague,  Andrew Whitaker.”

“How do you do Mr. Grey?” he says in a non-smiling, no-nonsense tone.

“Quite well, thank you, Mr. Whitaker. Although, I would like to know what your business is with me today,” I say cutting to the chase.

He had the impression of a smile on his lips, although it is hard to tell since he appears to not have used his facial muscles to form a smile in a very long time.

“May we take our seats first, and since you are already here, would it be possible to order something to eat Mr. Grey? The food is exquisite here, and I would hate to see it to go to waste,” he says in an unusually paternal tone. The way he talks about food, and not wasting it, somehow pulls me into one of the seats.

“I’ll hear you out, on account that my father asked you here. But, my answer will remain the same,” I say and he nods his head.

“All I ask is your time Mr. Grey, for the duration of the lunch, as a favor to your father whom I shall be repaying a personal debt at the conclusion of this lunch. I’m not making a sales pitch and neither would I need to do that, I promise you that. I am retiring next month, and quite wealthy thanks to young people like yourself. As anyone who is in the top of his game, we lawyers don’t need to do any sales pitch to anyone. There is enough young, wealthy, and hormonal population around who makes careless choices which in the end haphazardly fall onto our very expensive laps.”

The waiter comes with a menu.

“What can I bring you to drink sir?” he asks.

“Sancerre. And I want the Menu Dégustation. Thank you,” I say sending off the waiter.

I look at my father pointedly.

“Hear him out son. This is not against Anastasia. This is to protect your future, to protect what you have worked so hard to build for years. Don’t let a mistake take half or more of it away from you in the end.”

Anger rises in me. My father of all people should know me a little bit. Although no one knows me well enough, except for Anastasia. What everyone fails to realize that, I’d be destroyed if Anastasia decides to leave me. Whether I retained what I have amassed is not important; because I’d be checking out of life. I’d be a shell of my very fucked up former self.

I eye Taylor, who is looking ahead, tense, and impassive. He dislikes the idea of me being ambushed by an attorney as well, I note. Worse, I’m being ambushed by my own father. What a fucking day!!

“Speak your mind Mr. Whitaker.”

“Mr. Grey, a small research on Google can easily indicate that you are worth, about 12.5 Billion Dollars. Give or take a few, although in your case it’s pretty much solid since your assets are not based on stocks or shares of your company. You own it all. You are by the latest estimates 25^th richest person in the entire planet. You’re genius in your own right.” He gives a shitload of information, introduction to my own self; as if I haven’t met myself before!

“Now that you introduced me, to me Mr. Whitaker, what else have you got to say?” I say irritated.

“Christian, please. Listen to him first,” my dad urges.

“Mr. Grey, do you have any idea, how many people would sell their mother, father, siblings, children and their own soul to get a fraction, a miniscule fraction to get what you have? Any idea at all?”

My eyes grow darker, and the accumulated rage is barely contained in a level, sharp, but deadly tone.

“Are you insinuating that my fiancée is after my money? How do you know that I haven’t done any background check on her? How do you know that I’m not the one who persuaded her?”

“Wonderful. Then she wouldn’t mind signing a piece of paper that says, what’s hers is hers, and what’s yours is your,” he says in an even tone to match mine.

“Are you trying to mock me? Insult my fiancée, or ridicule us both? What my fiancée and I have- which by the way is private- a joke to you Mr. Whitaker?”

“I assure Mr. Grey, I have no sense of humor in the way you speak of, and neither would I need to mock you and yours in any way. Everyone is capable of doing that all by themselves. What I am trying to give you is the statistics if you will and the lengths anyone would go, toy with the wealthy and handsome targets such as yourself. The numbers are just simply boundless. I’m trying to tell you that there have been people who were really, truly in love, with all the right emotions invested into the relationship. But, people change over time. Life and circumstances change. Desires and wants change. People grow apart, fall out of love. How do you think I have amassed such a fortune? Although I am not in the ranks you occupy, I am still one of the wealthiest men in this country. Because, I’ve made my fortune with young people who once were in love and without nuptials. Like the saying goes, ‘Marry in haste and repent in leisure.’ You have, but known your fiancée for a very short time. It is imperative that you get your prenuptial agreement. The spouses may take the ½ of the fortune, but we take... Ohhh, anywhere from 35% to 50% of that chunk. You ought to know how expensive we lawyers are. Do you think I would go and explain how I amassed my fortune?”

When the waiter comes around the serve our food, everyone at the table falls silent, and he serves the food professionally and quickly scuttles away.

“Mr. Whitaker, thank you for your candid views, however cynical. What everyone fails to see is that, nothing I have means anything to me if I don’t have Anastasia. She might as well walk away with it all. I want her in my life, plain and simple. Separation is not an option.  We are going to be married for life.”

My father shakes his head.

“Son, I want nothing more for you to be married for life. I want nothing more for you to have what I have with your mother. I wish you all the happiness in the world. But you must understand that any number of things can go wrong, because you and Ana know each other so little. This can be an infatuation. She’s a wonderful girl, and we love her dearly. Your mother and I are immensely happy that she makes you happy. But, anything can go wrong. How well do you really know her? She is after all your first girlfriend. You have not had anyone before. It is easy to...”

I finally had all I can take from the two lawyers one of which happens to be my father. I stand up and slam my fists to the table. My own father makes assumptions about me, about what my life is like!

“How well do you know me father? Have I ever fucking brought anyone for you to meet before?”

“Well, no. Because she’s your first...”

“Dad! You are wrong in all your assumptions completely. But to put it in a nutshell for you, I will say this: I am fucking disappointed that you’ve decided to talk about my personal life, my fiancée who seem to adore you, knowing how private I am in front of a lawyer whom I met not ten minutes ago! You are talking about the most important person I have ever had, I will ever have in my entire life! Yes, Anastasia is my first girlfriend, but she’s more than that. She’s the first woman I ever fall in love with. What’s more, she loves me! She is the only one I found worthy of introducing to my family. Beyond any of that; she will be my last. There will be no others, but her! The subject is closed. I am not making her sign any nuptials. None. Zip! Nada!” I say through gritted teeth.

My father sighs.

Mr. Whitaker turns to me and says, “in that case Mr. Grey, congratulations. I wish you all the happiness in the world. Young man, you may sit down and finish your wonderful food.” Then he turns to my father and says, “Carrick my friend, my debt to you is repaid. Let us have lunch.”

*****

“Mr. Grey, Mr. Pella is here, sir,” Andrea announces over the intercom.

“Send him in please, Andrea.”

Alex Pella enters into my office with an air of confidence that have always exuded him in his 6’2” stature, in his custom three piece suit, even his shoes are screaming custom made Italian. He walks in a measured gait, economical movements as if every step he takes is calculated, and he is in complete control of his environment and not just his own life. He almost has a surge of power surrounding and, enveloping him. He is an alpha among alpha males which is probably why we hardly ever get together. We both like to be in control. Neither of us is willing to surrender it even in the hypothetical.

He extends his hand in sincerity with a wide smile on his face, and instead of gripping my hand, he grasps my wrist as he always have done in the past, with the other hand firmly hitting the side of my other arm.

“Grey! Glad to see you in one piece my friend!” he says in a self-assured voice.

“Alex,” I give him a solemn nod and an acknowledging smile.  

I point to a chair before my desk, and he sinks in it in an elegant crouch like a hunter. He crosses his leg above his knee, and acknowledges Taylor in the  corner of the room.

“Hello Taylor,” he says nodding.

“Mr. Pella,” replies  Taylor in the same way military man does to a higher ranking officer.

“How long will you be in town?” I ask even though we both know I know the answer.

“I’m only here for today. I came to help with the investigation of your EC135. And I have compiled all the findings the experts come up and the security personnel...” he says pausing.

“I hear a ‘but’ coming up.”

“Yes, there is a ‘but’. I don’t have to tell you the kinds of aircrafts I know. I buy them, I sell them, and I know them inside out. I’m sure that you have suspected foul play when both your engines went down.” I nod.

“I have conclusively confirmed that it is foul play after going through all the evidence. And evidence as a concept is something like an ancient language. One must speak it and read it in order to understand it. Otherwise, it is gibberish to any other person. So few can read it even if they can speak it.”

“That’s where you come in,” I say with a smile.

“Yes. I have the technical reports here for you. But, I also managed to extract a partial print which didn’t belong to you or your passenger.”

I straighten up in my seat.

“A partial print?”

“Yes. We ran some checks in some known data bases. Nothing came up... yet. However, as your own head of security would agree, it doesn’t mean that the print doesn’t exist in another database. If the print exists on your helicopter, so does the person. In order to check the criminal records, I would dig deep and check sealed records as well.”

“Why do you say that?”

Alex leans in and his dark blonde curls move with him. He narrows his turquoise eyes. His eyes slightly shift to Taylor, and then look back at me. I nod at him understanding his meaning. Taylor needs to hear it.

“Like I said, reading signs is like reading an ancient language. The evidence that is present as well as what isn’t there are important. A partial print left by a person who hates you so much that he or she took the risk of being caught, and damaged your helicopter in such a way that you would take flight, but that it would fail you during your flight. He wanted to ensure that you were dead. He wanted to ensure that you didn’t make it down alive. What’s more, he wanted to make sure that it looked very much like an accident...” He pauses, sits back in his seat and the leather of the chair accommodates him  by sinking deep. He lets me absorb the impact of the information he has given me.

“You said ‘he’. How can you be sure?”

“I’ll get to that. Now, this is a calculating man. But a little overanxious angry man; a man who has possibly either lost everything to risk so much, or incredibly stupid, but then the level of detail he put in, and the attention he paid to his deed, one which you would have to admire from the devious point of view, makes me think that he is in fact very intelligent,” he says making me frown, “you, my friend, have an enemy who would go to extents to eliminate you, and take risks an ordinary person wouldn’t. Only a man who has nothing to lose would do that.”

“Why not a woman? Don’t they say, ‘hell has no fury like a woman scorned’?” I ask.

“No!” he says firmly. “Women operate differently. They can be more devious than a man, but, women like to let you know how you have scorned them, and how they are getting even with you. Men in the other hand, first kill you and then measure the size your dick, and then tell you how you won’t get to fuck with him again.”

“Is it just a hunch?”

“Hunches are like sixth senses, Grey. Being a man who calculates his steps six months in advance, I would never base a conclusion on a hunch. It may just be a starting point, but never a conclusion. You have evidence enough to support that. You just have to look in the right places. The answers are available for the right questions.”

I feel frustrated. What the hell does that mean? Where do I get to look? I run my hand through my hair. Fuck! I feel like I’m playing Jeopardy on “Everything You Never Learned” category!

He shoves a neatly arranged file with a CD.

“Your man Welch has a copy of these results,” he says. I nod with a frown.

“My starting point is that I have an enemy who is a man. That’s it?”

“It’s not written in stone, but I’m certain that it is a man. Your modern science calls this ‘profiling’, doesn’t it? You may assume that I have psychological profile of your ‘would be killer’. Someone who is extremely intelligent, angry, and bent on some sort of revenge to the point of making sure you are dead. What’s worse, he doesn’t care who dies along with you. That’s why he didn’t care that you would have a passenger in your helicopter. They just become collateral damage. That’s one hell of an enemy. If you’re anything like me...” he says then smiles with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “of course, you are sort of like me, I’d ask what toes you have crushed, but in my case, it’d be many. However, I would assume that you have might also have a standing order of them as well. We don’t get to be the kind of men we are; driven, controlled, and ambitious and on top of everyone’s game to the point of obsession, and not make a list of enemies.”

“How do I know if it’s a recent enemy or someone in the past that is just waiting for the right opportunity?” I ask with an impassive face, my rage carefully tucked under the surface.

“That will present itself in a short time. Because he has made this attempt, and nearly succeeded will make him more daring, but also angrier for having failed. He will try again for sure, against you and yours. To exert you the greatest pain till he gets his assumed due, he may try to get to you through the ones you value, most likely before he attempts to kill you again. He’ll let you know who took you under, right before he takes you under.”

“How can you be certain?”

Alex Pella’s eyes darkened as if he morphed into a different man.

“That wouldn’t be what I would do, because I am on top of my game, but that’s what a raging second best does. Someone who lost the alpha fight. First order of things for you must be is to up your security for every living person you value! For everyone you would grieve upon losing,” he says as if he has gone through an experience so painful, even talking about it in another man’s terms, gave him excruciating pain.

His mask of assumed confidence slips back in place in just a few seconds.

“Protection is the first order of things. Cover your ass, and the asses of those whom you value while you’re investigating. You have a starting point, and your man Welch is a shrewd one. You have a solid man protecting you in Taylor. They know what to do in sweeps. Tighten the ins and outs to your properties, your places of business you frequent, and obviously your modes of transportation,” he says rising to his feet.

“I am here for the duration of the day, but I have to leave tomorrow morning. I have an unfinished business to attend.”

“Thank you Alex!” I get up. As he extends his hand again his jacket opens up, and I notice a concealed weapon in his jacket.

“You’re packing?”

“Of course, I’d feel naked without it.”

“How did you pass my security with a concealed weapon?”

“You don’t want me to give you tricks of the trade, do you now Grey?” he says with a boyish grin I remember so well from Harvard. I smirk at him.

“Why do you have to have a gun?” I can’t help asking because of my dislike of weapons.

“Well, Grey, I thought it’d take too much time to manually insert the bullets into men who wished me dead,” he says with a genuine smile.

“Isn’t that what your exaggerated security is for?” I ask sarcastically.

“It’d be unwise to not to for men like us,” he shrugs.

“I don’t know how a gun would have saved me when my helicopter was going down,” I say acidly.

“It’s because guns are tools. Your best weapon is your head which you seemed to have used very well. But it doesn’t hurt to be aware of the tools your enemies might employ and be proficient in them.”

“You and I will have to agree to disagree on weapons as tools,” I say, and lead Alex out.

My Blackberry buzzes.

I open the message as I stand with Alex Pella by the elevators. An idiotic grin comes up to my face as soon as I see her name on my phone’s screen.

“By the way,” Alex says after seeing my grin. “I hear that my congratulations are in order,” he adds as his security joins him into the elevator car. Before the door closes he adds, “if what I see from your smile is correct, you might want to make her, your protection worthy asset number 1. Cura ut valeas* my friend...” he says, and the door closes as I’m left standing with my Blackberry in hand with an overwhelming dread that Anastasia might be taken away from me. I'd die. I'd be worse than dead. I shake my head to clear the thoughts. I have to hear her. I have to feel her presence...

"Taylor! We're leaving."

When You're Gone - The Cranberries

Zombie - The Cranberries

* Take care that you fare well. (Latin)