Book IV - Chapter VIII - Christian and Anastasia Fan Fiction

CHAPTER VIII

THE ART OF WAR

“Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.”

― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Lincoln wants war. He must have been studying Sun Tzu’s Art of War, because I recognize the technique; he wanted to subdue me without fighting. But clearly, he’s not a very good student. The first rule in the Art of War is to know your enemy. And Lincoln simply doesn’t know his own enemy; namely, me. There’s a Christian Grey persona outside. It’s what everyone sees. Hardly anyone is allowed to get a glimpse of what is inside of me. That Christian Grey is known by no one except Anastasia. I don’t intend to spread it out for others to decipher anytime soon. One of the first rules Sun Tzu teaches is that victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while the defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win. I win first; I’m a fighter. I don’t turn the other cheek. You attack all those I love and give every indication that you will continue to do so, there is no place big enough to hide your wicked ass from me. I don’t believe in eye for an eye. And, I do forgive my enemies, but not before they’re hanged.

All Lincoln had to do was to leave my family alone. But, no. He deliberately aided someone who had every intention of killing me; a man who attempted to rape and kidnap my wife. With Lincoln’s help Hyde got out, and did kidnap my sister and my wife and nearly killed them both. Hyde has been planning to cause the worst personal damage to me; and by aiding this fucker secretly to accomplish his heinous goal, Linc wanted to rip my heart out, and sit back to take pleasure of my torment; meanwhile acting as if he had no hand in it. Not only did Hyde extort money from me through my wife, but he intended to rape the girls, and he managed to beat my wife an inch of her life and put my baby’s life in danger. This is war and it’s personal! Linc won’t stop if I don’t stop him.

I've put Anastasia to bed nearly an hour ago. I call Ros.

“Good evening, Mr. Grey,” she answers her phone.

“Ros! I need updates,” I say curtly, my manic energy so is fucking intense; it's oozing out of my pores.

“About the Taiwanese? We followed your instructions, and half the money is transferred to our bank in Taiwan,” she replies. I feel irritation creep up.

“Ros, I know I didn’t just lapse into fucking Klingon! That’s not what I’m asking about, and you know it!”

“Oh, boss, since you’re so eloquent this evening, I’ll tell you the other update…” she says sighing. Ros is one of the very few women who are neither affected by my charms nor my wrath. That’s one of the reasons we can work well together, because she does her job well, and tolerates my mercurial moods without so much a blink and manages to do her job superbly instead of getting jumpy.

“I have called in an emergency meeting and fired the board as you asked. But, the CEO will know about this by tomorrow. You know that. I don’t want GEH to be screwed with twelve law suits!” she says with acrimony.

“No, we won’t,” I say as I lean back in my chair. The leather of my chair protests with a squeak.

“Is this a joke, Mr. Grey? Someone will leak it into the media stating it to be a hostile takeover. Knowing this, I’ve done my homework, and had appropriate reasons to give them the boot and a finger each. But we have had immediate leaks after we took over SIP despite the gag order.”

“We’ll have gag orders placed in. Besides, I own a large portion of the stocks, and you will get me the remaining shares first thing in the morning.”

“I’m a step ahead of you Christian. We’ve already had the gag order placed. However, you know that this is only the eye of the storm.”

“I’m well aware of that. If I didn’t have all my ducks in order, I wouldn’t have done it. But, I do. Who do you think is going to have pity on a board of directors who are a bunch of overpaid pricks? I have poured myself over into all the financial data of Lincoln Timber in the last hour. Do you know how often this board of directors met?”

“As far as it’s written in the bylaws, they're supposed to meet quarterly, and also have to meet whatever they prescribed in the corporate charter. Emergency meetings etc…”

“Well, it averaged out one meeting a month. One fucking meeting! In the last meeting, guess what the agenda was?”

“If the Congress is any indication, I’d wager and say that setting the salaries and compensation of company management.”

“Bingo!”

“Are you serious? Who is actually running the company?”

“Yes, quite serious. The only decisions they’ve all agreed in the last three years’ meetings and speedily approved are the salary increase and supporting and reviewing the performance of the CEO who by the way rules them with an iron fist.”

“But, you know they can vote him out!” Ros contradicts.

“Not Roger Lincoln,” I say perfectly calmly, I am anything but.

“How do you know?”  

I shuffle the names, bios and very personal reports on the members of the board of directors in the several files I have before me; courtesy of Welch.

“Well, I would expect a better yield as far as income is concerned from a control freak like Lincoln. The domestic wood products demand has been increasing with the expected new housing market, remodeling, non-residential construction, industrial construction as well as wood export demands from the Europeans. This will increase even more so as early as the beginning of the New Year. The money is being made; I have examined the ledgers. But, they should have had more growth than what is shown.”

“I noted that too, sir. I had a feeling that someone, or a few someones were dipping their hands into the cookie jar. I don’t think you have gone through their ledgers as far as I have. I had Warren with me and we both divided the information a certain number of years. I had also the personal assets’ files drawn up of the board members. Sam checked those for me, and marked the discrepancies. A lot of the numbers still didn’t add up. In the company earnings, there’s about $53.6 million dollars unaccounted for, and somehow the ledgers are shown in order. But they’re not.”

I am pure attention, shift in my seat, and lean into my phone. 

“How much did you say?”

“$53.6 million Dollars, sir. This is over a period of thirteen years. Lincoln Timber has been a public company in the past 15 years. It’s carefully done, very tactful. It’s not skimmed in one or two years. It’s been done over several years. Even though the company’s growth is expected to be substantial, it was moderate, or that’s how we see it.” That is an important piece of information.

“Who skimmed the money? Did you see any indication that one or more members of the board could have done it?”

“Here’s the thing sir. See, these guys have to kiss a lot of asses in the House and Senate because they’re going neck to neck with the environmentalists who wish to see logging companies eradicated. There are indications that we know some of the lips of these guys so attached to some Senators, we don’t know where their lips end and the Senators’ asses begin. They might allocate funds for these politicians, but we found a lot of greasy hands in the pot. If you think Mr. Lincoln is as controlling,” she says emphasizing the word, possibly thinking of my controlling tendencies, “as you say he is, he's turning the other way when it comes to their skimming from the top. There's a missing amount that points to the board of directors. We’ve calculated that number to be around $28.3 million Dollars. And that’s between twelve guys and a few asses in D.C. You can see the poorly concealed money trail. But the $53 million is – I must say admirable. There’s no trail. None, whatsoever.”

“Oh, no Ros. When there’s an activity, there’s always a trail. I know his secret. It’s in the cash dealings,” I say in an even tone.

“Cash? How could such large amounts of money can exchange hands in cash and no one know about it? And why would they want to do that? That presents a tax problem and countless other issues.”

“Simple. Everyone gets a kickback. And when you divide it into months, it’s about $660,000 per months. When you look at it that way, it’s not that large amount of money. It's about two bars of gold per month. When large amounts of timber sent overseas, he can always show the price less than what is being agreed, and get the money deposited to an overseas account.”

“What about the board members?”

“Lincoln controlled them all. He got good use out of them in keeping his game with the politicians, and possibly allowed them to skim a certain percentage. Their salaries are $150,000 each, yet they all sit on millions of Dollars of assets with no other business endeavors. If they realized that he could be skimming, they were waist deep in sharks themselves to bother with him, and why would they? They had a steady income coming, the investors were getting a steady, however minimal return.”

I hear Ros take a deep intake of breath.

“In that case, I feel even better about firing their corpulent asses!”

“Corpulent?” I laugh. “You have a way with your words, Ros. Now that we’re on the same page, tell me exactly what happened.”

“I’m getting to it, Boss. Warren, Sam and I already figured out their part in the skimming. But when the trailed got cold with the $53 mil, I assumed either Lincoln was extremely stupid – but he didn’t struck me as one – or he’s the devil’s twin. I knew you would ask all the details, so, when I had called the emergency meeting, I had Barney set up a small camera from an inconspicuous angle, and he should have e-mailed video to you. Let me text him to verify.”

“I’ll look into my e-mails. It might be there already. I have not checked them in the last hour since I was going over other documents. But what does the video entail?”

“Are you kidding? It’s my shining moment, Christian!” she says with exaggeration. “It shows how I kicked their asses, and if in case they wanted to sue us in the future, I have solid evidence of what was said to them, and what they did in response. We have clear indications and information at the lobby of our company stating that the building is clearly monitored by video surveillance at all levels,” she adds for my benefit. “Besides… I was spectacular. I would like my Boss to see it.”  

“I’ll reserve judgment until I watch the whole thing and will let you know what I think about it when I’m done watching it.”

“What are you gonna do with the CEO, sir?”

“I’m going to rip him apart one lumber at a time,” I say and hang up.

I turn to my computer, and log into my e-mails. There’s the message from Barney Sullivan. I click on the video. After a little static, I see Barney’s sideways face with a pen in his mouth, testing the connection and sound. He grins into the camera, moves his glasses up his nose, and leaves.

I see Andrea leading the board members to the table one at a time. They’re surprised to have been called for an emergency meeting, at GEH of all places. I can hear the confusion and anxiety to be called here.

Ros, Warren, Sam and two others from the Finance Department enter. Ros takes the head of the table. Warren is middle aged, and he’s seasoned in business. He also doesn’t mind appearing in financial papers. When the Lincoln Timber's board members see him, they greet both Ros and Warren. But the others don’t get any acknowledgement. The two members who are closest to Ros shake her hand.

“Mr. Warren, Miss Bailey,” starts the most senior board member after clearing his throat. “I’m Cliff Huxley. When I ask this question, I believe I’m backed unanimously. Is there a reason why we are called to have an emergency board meeting at GEH?” A murmur of agreement rises among the members.

“Where is our CEO?” asks another member.

“And who might you be?” Ros asks calmly raising her eyebrows knowing perfectly well who it is. It’s her method of putting someone at unease.

“I’m Andrew Sheldon. I’m the Executive Vice President of Lincoln Timber.”

“Of course you are. Let’s get started then,” Ros says turning her attention to Warren. Someone else clears his throat to get her attention; all eyes are fixed on Ros trying to decipher why they’re here. But their demeanor is snobbish.

“Miss Bailey!” shouts the man sitting in the opposite end of the table, across from Ros, as he slowly rises up in his seat. “I’m the CFO of Lincoln Timber. You have two minutes to explain why we are here for an emergency meeting of all things. Otherwise, we’re all leaving.”

“Sit yourself down, Mr. Acers. You are no longer the CFO of any company. In fact Lincoln Timber no longer exists.”

“What?!?” questions rise around the table.

“How is that even possible?” someone else shouts.

“I suggest you all sit down, sirs,” Ros raises her voice. “We owned 78% of your shares yesterday, and as of this afternoon, that number is at 100% and it is consolidated within the GEH. We no longer have need of your services.”

“This is a hostile takeover!” someone else shouts.

“No such thing is happening here, sir. Warren?”

 A grinning alligator interrupts, “you take over 100% of our assets, consolidate into your company and say that this isn’t a hostile takeover?”

“Jeff Henson,” Ros raises her voice. “Your allocated salary is $152,000 and yet you have dealings with paper companies such as the Southern Texture, New Leaf, Blank Page, and oh, Smooth Run toilet paper on the side skimming from the top, and have accumulated assets that are worth $3.1 million Dollars. Impressive Mr. Henson. All in three short years! Tell me again, how do you manage to do that?”

“You have no proof! This is an accusation which you will answer in court!”

“Oh, I’d love to. And of course the Internal Revenue Service would love to hear how you have made this large amount of money and not paid a single dime of tax on it,” Ros says sweetly.

Murmurs run around the table.

“Let’s go over the finances; particularly the missing millions of Dollars. Of course we as GEH are interested in knowing the whereabouts of that money; because we have owned a large amount of shares, and yet we have been shortchanged over the years because of your… how shall I put this delicately…” Warren says racking his brain.

“Highway robbery,” adds Ros.

“Highway robbery?” shouts the CFO managing to look offended. 

“Don’t get too impatient Mr. Acers. I’m getting to you,” says Ros theatrically shuffling files. “Ah, there you are,” she says and opens a large pale blue folder. Acers shift in his seat nervously.

“You have been a bit greedier, haven’t you Mr. Acers? I can understand your excitement. I love what you have done with your new boat which by the way you’ve purchased from GEH. Thank you for your business. You have by far accumulated the largest assets among all the board members which have all been acquired since you began working about five years ago. I’m sure the prospect of not skimming from the top is stressful to you. But you have managed to increase your return by 18%. That’s a wonderful return in this downturn of economy, don’t you think Mr. Warren?” she asks sweetly again. Warren nods his agreement.

“Meanwhile the yield from Lincoln Timber’s last quarter was a whopping 0.25%... Tsk…tsk…tsk...” she tuts wagging her index finger.  

“How dare you bring us here, accuse us, and… and… tell us that you have overtaken our company!”

“I know; I’m sorry I neglected you Mr. Sheldon, being the former Vice President of Lincoln Timber and all… I was just about to reveal your highway robbery… I beg your pardon, your assets that you accrued generously from Lincoln Timber,” Ros raises her voice. Sheldon visibly pales on the camera. Barney must have taken the control of the joystick, because the camera zooms in on Sheldon’s face. “You have not done badly for yourself since you’re only $612,000 short of Mr. Acers, here. Congratulations!”

Silence falls into the room as Ros goes on.

“Stop!” Sheldon says.

“Shut up Sheldon,” hisses Acers.

“Do you want to get indicted?”

“I said shut up! She’s bluffing!”

“I don’t bluff Mr. Acers. At your age of 52 years, a seemingly upright member of the society, you can finally lead a decent life you pretend to possess. But should you choose to go against GEH, we will come back with a vengeance, and make sure that you get to be someone’s bitch at the State Penitentiary as oppose to vacationing on your yacht Pearl with your lovely wife Cindy, your 11 year old daughter Jessie, your 16 year old son Jake and your golden retriever Lucy. Think how your lovely wife would be devastated and lonely in your very long absence… And I have not even begun to talk about the $53.6 million Dollars that is completely unaccounted for and I am beyond sure that all the other investors would loooove to hear about the whereabouts of their missing profits…”

“What the fuck is Bailey saying Jeff?” asks one of the younger members of the board, visibly shaking.

“I said shut up David!” Sheldon shouts.

“I don’t think so! I’m young, and I have my whole life ahead of me. I wouldn’t have gotten into any of these if it weren’t for you, Jeff, Cliff and Mr. Lincoln! I’m not screwing up my family’s future for you guys anymore! I had no idea you guys had accumulated that much money! How is that fair that you get five times as much as I do? You can go fuck yourselves! What do you want Miss Bailey?” he says turning to Ros.

“I want you all to vote yourselves out of a job, sign an NDA, and you will be put under a gag order.”

“That’s blackmail!” shouts VP.

“On the contrary, I could have turned all the evidence into the Feds and still owned the company. You’d not only be out of a job, but reputation, family and the money as well. I’m giving you another shot at decency.”

Young David looks green on the gills. Warren pulls his chair closer to Ros to avoid any projectile vomit if David was to hurl his way.

“This is your only and last chance. GEH owns the Lincoln Timber as of the last hour. You have all been fired. But for the paperwork purposes, I will give you a chance to vote yourselves out of a job like the honest men you pretend to be in the next two minutes.”

Sam gets up with documents in his hand passing them around the table.

“If we don’t?”

“If a single one of you doesn’t sign, all of the documents will be turned over to the authorities. Do I have your agreement, gentlemen?” First deathly silence covers the room, and weak ‘yeses’ can be heard around. Some just nods.

Ros stands, fixes the frills on her pale rose color shirt. Pushes a strand of her hair behind her ear. She then turns to Warren with a smile.

“My colleague, Mr. Warren will take it from here. Nice doing business with you gentlemen,” she says and exits the meeting room with her Jimmy Choo pumps clicking away.

Sam and Warren checks each document passed to them, one of my attorneys walk in with a notary who certifies the documents making them official. I now own Lincoln’s ass, minus the missing $53.6 million dollars he’s hiding elsewhere. I will destroy him so thoroughly he will wish he never crossed paths with me.

I call Ros back.

“The sale of Lincoln Timber, piece by piece starts tomorrow. I want to start with the assets.”

“I figured that was going to be the case from your less than happy demeanor earlier today, sir. I have a few companies in mind that might be interested in the heavy machinery the Lincoln Timber has. This is Washington after all. There are quite a few other lumber companies.”

“Great! Sell them off tomorrow! Then sell the lumber they have in stock, and sell the contracts with the trees to cut from other lands. I also want the lumber to be moved within the week off the property. Put the land on sale with the onsite offices… Sell the trucks. Then sub-contract the workers to other timber companies. I want everything about Lincoln Timber to be history within the next two weeks,” I order resolutely.

“I will, sir,” Ros says hearing the ‘you-can’t-fuck-with-me-and-get-away-with-it’ tone. “Remind me to never to get on your bad side, Boss.”

“Good night, Ros,” I say hanging up.

I slowly walk into my bedroom, grasping the hem of my t-shirt; I pull it off my head, and slowly get into bed trying not to wake my wife up. She has one hand extended to my pillow searching for me in her sleep, and the other hand is protectively over her belly. My whole world is right here, in this bed. I take a sharp intake of breath with the sight of my wife. The seeping city lights from a distance are dancing in her hair. God! I’m a lucky son-of-a-bitch. Luckier even to have Ana back in one piece. In that instant, the mere inches are too far from her and I immediately pull Anastasia into my arms, spooning her. She gives a satisfied sigh in her sleep, and snuggles with me. Holding her like this I let sleep take over me.

*****❦ ♡ ❧*****

“Good morning Seattle! You’re listening to K.O.M.O. 97.7 News Radio. It’s 6:00 a.m. on the hour. It’s 49 degrees outside with 62% humidity. Afternoon showers are expected around 3:00 p.m. We are now connecting with Sue Romero on Chopper 3 for traffic…” I wake with the sound of the radio, finding myself wrapped around Ana like ivy on a wall. I slowly untangle myself from her and quickly turn the radio off to not to wake Anastasia.

It’s been two days since we visited our house, two days since I ordered Lincoln Timber to be dismantled, and two fucking long days since we haven’t had sex. I’m vibrating, and can discharge energy if I was simply touched. I need to work out today to get the excess energy off. I put on my gray sweats and a t-shirt on and leave the room.

Taylor is already at the entrance waiting in his workout clothes: shorts and t-shirt.

“Good Morning sir,” Taylor says as he presses the button to calls the elevator.

“Morning Taylor,” I say. He gives me a sideways glance and fidgets in his place. Taylor never fidgets. Something’s up.

“You got some news for me?”

“Yes, sir. Welch called earlier. Yesterday afternoon Ros sold all the heavy machinery that once belonged to Lincoln Timber. The purchaser is moving them out this morning. And someone informed Lincoln telling him the heavy machinery is being moved, and they’re legitimately sold. Apparently he rushed to the lumber yard in his boxers and a t-shirt. He was pissed like an ornery bull when the security we placed tried to prevent his entrance to the company property since he’s the CEO of a company that longer exists. When Lincoln tried to fight with the security, he was escorted out in police custody. Apparently he’s in county jail right now in trespassing private property, assault charges and destruction of private property,” Taylor says trying to keep a straight face.

“Assault charges?”

“Yes. He beat two security guys up pretty badly. One is hospitalized with broken ribs. Second security guard got a broken nose a cracked elbow and wrist because he got kicked by Lincoln repeatedly. Two other security guards helped to subdue him and managed to cuff Lincoln and held him locked up until the cops were called. Even then he managed to destroy some items in the office he was locked in. His lawyers are trying to get him out in bail, but it’s too early for the judge to be at the court. Welch wants to pay him in kind for what he did having Hyde’s paperwork got lost.”

I nod, and take my Blackberry out just as the elevator door dings open at the gym. I dial Welch.

“Welch’s here,” he answers after the second ring as if he’s been up for hours.

“Grey… Welch, Taylor got me up to speed with Lincoln. Do whatever you need to do to keep him locked up for 24 hours at least. 48 hours would be better. If my attorneys want to fix the last fuck up they had in Hyde’s release, now is their chance.”

“I don’t think that would be a problem sir. We have security camera feeds, and it’s clear that Mr. Lincoln is a violent man with anger management issues. And during my search for Hyde’s bailer, I have met a very interesting waiter who tipped me off on a lawyer named Albert. He also remembers Lincoln meeting this lawyer. I showed a picture of Lincoln and he immediately recognized him. He said he called himself ‘Brioni’, but the waiter recognized it to be a fake name since he was wearing a Brioni suit, Armani silk tie and Ferragamo’s Giostra Croc loafers.”

“How would he know all that?” I ask skeptically.

“Mr. Grey, it’s one of the most upscale restaurants in Seattle frequented by the wealthiest of the state, and the waiter is as gay and as style guru by the looks of him as Tim Gunn. He immediately knew that Lincoln was lying about his name after he said his name was Brioni after a quick glance at his own suit. Described Lincoln to be in control and commanding. He said that Mr. Lincoln was predatory like a lion dressed in an expensive suit. Apparently his gaze alone instilled fear in this guy. It took $2000 to unravel his fear. I also got the reservation list and discovered the name of the man Lincoln was meeting. It’s a lawyer named Albert Cohen. He’s not Lincoln’s regular lawyer. But it appears that he has used this guy’s services a handful of times and only when he wants to conceal something. His name came up when Mrs. Lincoln was attacked a few years back. That’s when this lawyer who was representing Lincoln.” I stiffen immediately. He’s the man who does Linc’s dirty work!

“But, the most interesting bit of information I got after I took Albert for a ride with a few of my colleagues yesterday was that Lincoln always, always deals with cash. Large sums of cash,” he enunciates. “The cash travels around a few hands quite safely I might add via this guy to reach its intended destination. He gets paid well enough but after we’ve coerced him to cooperate with us, he fessed up that he gets a hefty sum of cash each time he performs a service for Mr. Lincoln who apparently likes to be referred only as “Sir.” The additional cash that was found with Hyde also came from Lincoln,” he says.

“The mother fucking asshole!” I hiss under my breath, and Taylor looks concerned with my colorful epitaph. “I want you to find where this dickhead is hiding his $53 million Dollars he stole from the investors.”

“About that…” he starts.

“What?”

“We’ve discovered a safe in the office he used at the Lincoln Timber’s offsite office. There was over $2 million Dollars in cash and account number and login information of some offshore bank accounts. But the balance in those accounts only totaled up to be around $17.2 million Dollars which he can still access of course. We still have the larger sum unaccounted for.”

“Keep digging! I want all his offices to be examined. The headquarters as well. He no longer owns the building, and he should not have access to any of the offices.”

“One more thing sir… There are saved newspaper articles regarding your marriage, your accomplishments, the SIP, GEH, Hyde’s break-in, Mrs. Grey’s and Miss Mia’s kidnapping, the ransom, and Mrs. Grey’s hospital stay,” he says slowly, letting  the information sink in.

“What else?” I ask through gritted teeth. 

“If the article printed a picture of Mrs. Grey and you, he crossed out Mrs. Grey's image with a large X in red marker, and I could see that he...” says and stops, clearing his throat. My anger rises.

“Spit it out Welch!”

“He must have been vengeful or angry because it was evident that he pressed the marker really hard to cross her image. From a profiler’s point of view, it indicates a personal grudge. Though we have searched for any evidence that could tie Mrs. Grey to Mr. Lincoln, there is absolutely no indication that he knows Mrs. Grey personally at all.”

“It’s because there isn’t any connection!” I hiss.

“Yes, sir. But we could not have made that assumption without substantial evidence. We had to make sure that there was nothing that tied Mrs. Grey to Mr. Lincoln. By deductive reasoning, we have found one and only connection: you. He targeted Mrs. Grey because she’s your wife. But that conclusion only came after we put nearly twenty pictures of you and Mrs. Grey together from newspaper and magazine clipping he collected in a file. He didn’t take a newspaper article  with a picture or a magazine image that didn’t contain the both of you. What emerged out of it was that he wasn’t targeting Mrs. Grey at all… Well, let me correct that, he was targeting Mrs. Grey but in a way to deduct her from you. He was taking her out of the picture. He was leaving your stranded and alone. We couldn’t see this until we put all the articles and pictures on one wall. That's when the intent emerged: A Christian Grey without a wife. So, the grudge was personal, but it was you he was intending to punish by harming Mrs. Grey. Hyde, of course was the perfect tool for that purpose because of his hatred for you and Mrs. Grey. It would never occur to anyone that someone else had a hand in it had Hyde succeeded in his attempts.” I feel my rage rising in me again. 

“Make sure he’s not set free on bail for 48 hours. Allocate my lawyers immediately to represent the security guards to sue him for all he’s got for what he did to them." My voice is low, and menacing. 

“You said 24-48 hours, sir.”

“I changed my mind. 48 hours. I will give the fucker the surprise of his life when he’s released on bail!” I hiss.

“Yes, sir.”

Taylor is eyeing me with concern. I walk into the gym, and go to a corner near the punching bags. I dial Ros’s phone.

“Good morning Boss,” she answers the phone.

“Ros, you have 48 hours to liquidate everything of Lincoln Timber. I don’t want even a single leaf with that name left by the end of the 48^th hour.”

“Oh, you spoke to Welch already, then.”

“I did.”

“Heavy machinery is being moved today. I will sell the timber among three home builders a little under the market value to move them fast, but we’ll still make money. And it turns out; Lincoln Timber has screwed a couple of other timber companies in business dealings by constantly underbidding them, and cutting into their deals. These two companies, Northwest Timber and Miller Timber reached out to us after the word got out. They don’t mind coming together and purchasing the land and office space right out under King Lincoln himself. And that’s the title they used, not me. Apparently Lincoln is a self-titled man: King of Timber.

The timber companies have 50% of the asking money, but they need to secure a bank loan for the rest of the 50%. As long as we’re backing them, the bank will loan them the money today and this way we can make more money on the deal than I originally estimated. If we sit on the property and work force, we’ll lose money because we are in the process of dispersing it. But, this offer is the best of the both world.”

“Do it!” I say grinning as I hang up. You wanted to fuck with me Lincoln? Game on! By the time I spit on your face, I’ll have already won.

Taylor looks at me after I hang up.

“Treadmill or punching bags?” he asks.

“Punching bags,” I reply.

*****❦ ♡ ❧*****

When we get back to my Penthouse, Anastasia is still sleeping. Pregnancy is making her hungry and tired. I gaze at her as she is lying in bed, looking younger than ever, her hand still outreaching my pillow. I want to kiss her and hold her but she needs all the rest she can get to heal and for the baby. I pat my way barefoot to the en suite bathroom and turn the shower on. Quickly divesting my clothes off, I take a shower. After my shower, I put on my white linen shirt and black jeans. I check on Anastasia, but she’s still deep asleep. I go back out to the living room.

“Breakfast Mr. Grey?”

“Yes, Gail. My usual. I’ll have my coffee now,” I say as I sit at the breakfast bar. She brings me a steaming cup of coffee as start reading Seattle Times. Gail puts a warm plate of egg whites and bacon before me within a few minutes. Then she fills my coffee up. As I’m halfway through my breakfast, Anastasia walks in with pale blue a wraparound dress which is making her blue eyes even brighter. Her hair is in a ponytail.

“Good morning, Mrs. Grey,” I greet her with a smile.

“Good morning, Christian,” she says leaning in for a kiss. I encase her between my legs and holding her in my embrace, I give her a deep kiss. Gail studiously ignores us, but then I don’t give a shit about who sees me giving my wife a through tonsil exam with my tongue. When our lips part, we’re both breathless and Anastasia’s cheeks are flushed.

“Guess, you missed me,” she says smiling.

“You have no idea!” I murmur as I sit her on to the seat next to me.

“What would you like this morning, Mrs. Grey?” Gail turns around handing Anastasia her tea.

“Uhmm… I’ll have waffles, eggs, bacon and some melon please Mrs. Jones. I’m starving!” she says.  Gail gives Anastasia a wide grin, completely happy like a mother whose child is finally eating without a fuss.

“Don’t you have work today?” Anastasia asks.

“I do, but I’ll do my work from home… What’s the point of being the boss and not be able to take time off from my office?” I say smiling.

“I should go to work…”

“You can do your work from home, Ana. I can’t let you go until next week.”

“Christian, it’s Thursday for heaven’s sake! I’m feeling better,” she argues as Gail places her plate before her.

“Mrs. Grey, this argument has been closed since Monday. You can revisit it next Monday. Until then you stay home, and I stay home making sure you don’t get in trouble,” I say with an inscrutable gaze. Anastasia cuts and takes a big bite of her waffle. She closes her eyes as if she’s savoring the taste of it for the first time in her life.

“This is great Gail!” she says with a mouthful of waffles. Then turns to me after taking a sip of her tea.

“Christian, I don’t need babysitting. I’m a big girl,” she says and I raise my eyebrows.

“Who says I’m baby-sitting you? I’m just trying to spend quality time with my wife,” I say my eyes darkening.

“Oh…” she murmurs turning her attention back to her plate.

“I suppose I can read the query letters and respond to them,” she murmurs as she takes a bite of her eggs.

“Would you like some orange juice Mrs. Grey?” Gail asks.

“Yes, please,” she replies. Gail places a glass of juice by her plate. Anastasia is completely concentrating on her plate of food.

“I hate that I can’t stop eating,” she murmurs.

“Yet, I love you eating, baby. You’re eating for the two of you, remember?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to get fat,” she replies taking a bite of her melon.

“We’ll get you a trainer who has experience in training pregnant women. That way you two can work out a regimen to keep you healthy. But you need to eat. Blip is counting on you,” I say. She places her fork down on the plate, her eyes glisten with unshed tears. Oh, shit! Did I say something to hurt her feelings?

“What a lovely thing to say! I love you, Christian,” she says and wraps her arms around my neck tightly. After a few seconds of confusion, I return her hug, and hold her in my arms as long as she wants to be there. I make a mental note to ask her doctor if there’s a comprehensive book I can read on pregnancies. I have a feeling she’s going to experience quite a few mood swings and other changes that I need to prepare for.

After breakfast Anastasia spends most of the day going through her work e-mails, reading query letters, and getting a head start on reading a manuscript. I talked to Welch and my lawyers who are responsible for Lincoln remaining in jail without a bail for the next 48 hours. After seeing the videotape, the judge decided that it was best for Lincoln to remain in jail to cool his jets down without bail, and the issue will be revisited within 48 hours. The bank secured the financing for the two other lumber companies, and the papers have been signed. But the land and properties formerly belonging to Lincoln Timber won’t change hands until Monday at the conclusion of the 3 day waiting period.

Anastasia is tired by noon, and I put her down for a nap while she is protesting and yawning.

“Just for a little while baby. Your body clearly needs the rest for healing and it’s going through a lot of changes, and creating a new life…” I say in awe. “It’s going to take its toll on you. Sleep,” I order. “I’ll come and check on you later.”

“Hold me until I fall asleep, then,” she whispers. I sigh. Fuck it! Work can wait a little longer. I sidle next to her, and pull her into my arms, hum her until she falls asleep.

Bella’s Lullaby

I leave Anastasia when she’s deep asleep, and go to my study to work. When I’m finished with the e-mails, Ros’s and Welch’s files, it’s already been two hours. Since Anastasia hasn’t come out yet, I’m going to let her sleep a little more. I sit at my piano, pulling the lid down so I don’t wake Ana up, I start playing Jesu Bleibet Meine Freude by Bach: The Joy of Man’s Desiring. It’s a happy tune. I have my wife safe and sound. My baby and my sister are safe and sound. Hyde is in jail. And I will deal with Lincoln when he gets out. It’s a good day.

Jesu Bleibet Meine Freude-Bach

Once I finish playing the tune, I start over again and again and again. I only stop when my Blackberry buzzes with an incoming e-mail. Who would that be at this hour? I take it out of my pocket, and open the message that jump-starts my heart and raises my libido to Defcon 1.

______________________________________

From: Anastasia Grey

Subject: My Husband’s Pleasure

Date: September 21, 2011 20:46

To: Christian Grey

Sir

I await your instructions.

Yours always

Mrs. G x
______________________________________

I take a deep shaky breath. We were going to explore the limits of her pleasure, but she’s still healing. On the other hand, I desperately want and need her. She wants me… And she really needs to be fucked thoroughly. It feels like it’s been forever. Shit! I don’t want to hurt her, but we need this. It will heal her, heal us. We need this as much as eating, sleeping and breathing. And her message does say ‘my husband’s pleasure’. I am her husband. If she wants it, I’ll be the one giving it to her.

______________________________________

From: Christian Grey

Subject: My Husband’s Pleasure ß---- love this title baby

Date: September 21, 2011 20:49

To: Anastasia Grey

Mrs. G

I’m intrigued. I’ll come and find you.

Be ready.

Christian Grey

Anticipative CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
______________________________________

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

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

“So you want to play?” I murmur.

“Yes,” she responds. Yes? Is that what we say? I don’t respond. I want her to remember the rules. When I say nothing. I feel her gaze move over my denim clad thighs, and my bulge at my fly, at the open button at my waist. Then her eyes linger over my happy trail a little too long, finally rising up to my chest hair. She’s drinking me in like a man out of the desert thirsting for water. Her gaze connects me with her, my synapses firing, desiring her. When the blue of her hungry eyes meet with my gray stormy gaze, my head cocked to one side questioning her with an arched quizzical brow, she gets her OSM (Oh Shit! Moment) face.

“Yes what?” I whisper, enunciating. She takes a sharp intake of breath, remembering.

“Yes, Sir.”

My eyes soften at her enthusiasm. “Good girl,” I murmur as I caress her hair. “I think we’d better get you upstairs now,” I add. We haven’t been to the Playroom for a while. I hold my hand out for her to take her upstairs. When we reach the playroom door, I stop and bend down and kiss her gently before grasping her hair hard.

My wife is a switch. She can be both submissive or a dominatrix. She wants to submit to me, but instead of waiting for me to make the demands, she makes the demand and I find her in a submissive position, forcing my decision to be with her. She is topping from the bottom. Fuck it! I can’t resist her. I’ll take her any way I can get her.

“You know, you’re topping from the bottom,” I murmur against her lips that I can’t get enough of.

“What?” she asks.

“Don’t worry. I’ll live with it,” I whisper and run my nose along her jaw and gently bite her ear.

“Once inside, kneel, like I’ve shown you.”

“Yes… Sir.”

I gaze down at this creature who is my wife, who loves me unconditionally and is willing to do this for both of us. I’m in awe of my Anastasia; completely in love with her. She bites her lip and walk into the Playroom. I go back to our bedroom and find her pink Louboutins and a hair tie. Then I make a stop at the library. After taking one item out of the library, I make my way back to the playroom.

When I walk into the playroom, she’s kneeling by the door only in her panties; her hair is cascading on her back, eyes downcast, hand splayed on her legs. I approve.

            I walk towards Anastasia. I’m in my Dom persona again.

“Ana, you may look at me,” I say and she lifts her gaze up to me.

“I want you to put these on,” I order. I extend my hand to her, and she takes it, standing up.

“Yes, Sir,” she replies. I hold her hand and she walks into her shoes.

“Turn around,” I command.

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

I walk her to the four poster bed.

“I want you to now take your panties off… Slowly,” I order. Anastasia’s breathing speeds up. She swallows and hooks her thumbs into her waistband, slowly running her thumbs around her panties and slowly lowers them down. My cock is so hard; it’s straining against my fly, ready to get out. I want to fuck her deep and hard. Shit! I have to show restraint depending on how she feels. But if I delay the gratification for both of us, our pleasure grows exponentially.

“Lie on your back on the bed,” I order. As she lies down, I get the spreader bar, lifting it up, I show it to her. I fasten the spreader bar on her ankles.

“I’m going to fasten your hands now Anastasia. I need a show of hands,” I say.

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

Rui da Silva ft. Cassandra – Touch Me

“Now, Anastasia, due to popular demand, we are going to play, baby. This is for both of our pleasure. I’m your husband,” I say.

“Sometimes dominant…” she says, “Sir,” she adds. My eyes darken.

“I’m going to spank you with this," I say showing her the ruler. "Six or ten, Anastasia?” I ask. Her eyes widen. She bites her lip.

“Ten please, Sir,” she says. Fuck me! I would love to baby.

“I want you to count with me baby,” I say and twisting the spreader bar, I turn her onto her stomach.

“Lift that glorious ass up the air,” I order, my voice is rough. She pulls her knees under her, lifting her ass up in the air; her sex is peaking, glistening wetly.

My hand gently strokes her buttocks, and then my middle finger dips into her sex, swirling. She moans. I take my finger out, and rub her buttocks again. Then I lift my other hand up and land the ruler evenly on both of her buttocks.

“One…” she moans. I lower my aim, and swoosh the ruler in the air again landing it on her sex and the bottom of her ass. “Two…” she utters. I rub her buttocks again caressing, then land the ruler again in a pattern. “Three…” she counts and groans with pleasure.

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

“Nine…” she counts, her voice needy, full of desire. And for ten I use my hand landing it right on her sex and buttocks, and dip two of my fingers into her greedy sex.

“Ten… please, Sir, fuck me!” she begs.

“Hush, baby, all in good time,” I murmur. “Keep this glorious ass up in the air,” I order, and dip my nose between the apex of her thighs and inhale, then I spear my tongue into her sex, and swirl, pushing it deep. My hands grasp her buttocks hard, not letting her move away from my ministrations. But she is greedy today. She’s pushing her ass into me, seeking friction. I suck her clit hard with my lips, and my tongue finally tortures it with pleasure. I swipe my tongue against her slit and between the blooms of her sex, and she’s forced to absorb the pleasure because the spreader is preventing her close her legs. I lean in, and fuck her with my tongue. Then, unexpectedly I flip her over to her back, and seal her sex with my mouth again, but this time, I reach her nipples and as I deliver the last stroke for an explosive orgasm, I squeeze the clothes pins, and pull them off her nipples. She screams my name in pure bliss. I immediately take my pants off.

I want her with ferocious hunger. I quickly flip my wife onto her back again. Lifting her buttocks up, I pull her to meet my cock, and bury myself into her. Anastasia’s orgasm has been so intense, I can feel it rolling over my cock, and the muscles inside her sex are still contracting. She’s trembling like a leaf.

She gyrates her hips, and I hold her in place.

“No baby, I want you to feel every inch of me take over your sex!” I say, and slowly feed my cock into her sex. I’m finally balls deep. I close my eyes, and hold myself in place.

“Please, Sir. I need more!” she begs again. She is so wet. Wet for me! I move out slowly, and move back in again, savoring her like a flavorful wine.

“Christian! Sir! I won’t break. Fuck me! Fuck me, hard!” she demands. Topping from the bottom again, but this time, I let myself go wild, and drive out, and spear into her hard, my balls heavy and aching; slapping against her clit, stimulating her, driving her wild. My veins on my cock are throbbing, seeking friction and pleasure. I pull out again, and this time I let loose the wild hunger, the animalistic urge to fuck my wife, and completely possess her. I can feel her build up again quickly.

“Hold it Ana! Don’t come, baby! Savor it! Feel my cock taking you over! Possessing you.” When I feel her tightening, quivering around my cock, I slow and pull back. When the quivering dies down, I plunge back into her again with ferocious speed but this time I don't stop.

“Come for me baby!” I growl. I feel her muscles squeezing me like a fist inside her, milking me for all I’ve got, making me come hard. I finally empty every last drop into her, taking over my wife… or she takes over me.

I collapse onto her; my faculties are elsewhere with pure pleasure. I finally pull out of her, and undo her ankles and wrists, rubbing them. I pull my wife into my arms, and we both hold onto each other until sleep takes over us, melting our tension, worries, and troubles. At least for the time being. 

In My Secret Life - Leonard Cohen

*****❦ ♡ ❧*****

Good morning everyone! I fell asleep while editing last night. Got up @ 2 to finish it. Wishing an early Happy Birthday to Claire from Scotland!