BOOK III - CHAPTER IV - Christian and Anastasia FanFiction

A BOUQUET OF LIGHT

CH IV

My Blackberry buzzes as I’m sitting at the breakfast table. I smile at Anastasia and pick my phone up.

“Mr. Grey, Welch’s here.”

“Is everything set?”

“Yes, sir. Everything points to Andrew Warren, sir. Pella indicated the lack of security with one look which we already knew, and I have spoken to Warren several times to fix those issues. So did Taylor. Every time he assured me that the proper training was being implemented, and the security loopholes were plugged, but clearly he was pulling the wool over our eyes.”

“What made Pella sure that there was lack of security?”

“Well, to begin with sir, he proved it to me by getting in the building without showing anyone anything... three times consecutively within thirty minutes,” he says enunciating.

“Fuck! Tell me exactly how he did it!” I hiss through my teeth, and Anastasia's gaze gets fixed on me. I find my muscles tightening. Anastasia looks at me worried, questioning. I give her a tight smile, and indicating ‘I’ll be one minute’ with my finger, I walk towards my office.

"Mr. Grey, Pella walks in anywhere and he can make it look like he belongs there."

"Was he dressed in an employee uniform?"

"No sir. He walked in with his arrogant confidence, and just gazed at the female employee who is supposed to check identifications like no one existed in the world, and flashed the Miss Big Tits a rare smile; she couldn't even pick her jaw up off the floor! I mean, she wouldn't even blink; sir, like he was going to disappear and she didn't want to miss a thing. Just waved him through tucking her phone number in his hand, I might add."

"It could be a fluke."

"Yes sir, but he also passed through two other security guys: an older no nonsense guy who's got cataracts in his eyes, and a young male with military training... Those two ought to be hard to pass through without proper identification, sir. And he showed no identification to anyone! And here's the thing sir; he had two of his security guards pass along with him!"

"Fuck! How?"

"He just spoke to them. He knew exactly what to say, how to say it to the right person. As if each person spoke a certain language and he was the only one who knew what was. He knew the discharge ranking of the military guy just by his demeanor and figured out where and what location he was discharged from.  He addressed him as such, and for the old guy, he acted like he was someone from his era, completely at ease. I was baffled. I was going to ask him to do one more run just to make sure and he said," says Welch and pauses, clearing his throat, "Welch, I can fuck my way through the gates if that's what it takes, and I can do it all day, in and out, but I'm sure your boss isn't paying mega bucks for me to test the lack of security which I've already proven. I have limited time, and I need to collect evidence, determine how he sabotaged the EC 135 and create a profile of your would be assailant. If I don't do that the fucker will look, and believe me when I say this, he will find another way, because he got away the first time. If I were your boss, I'd fire the incompetent fuckers! But it's not completely their fault. Their training is inadequate. All of their responses must be uniform, but each employee here behaved as if they were trained by three different instructors none of which were on the same page. That should have been corrected a long time ago."  

"What else?" I ask through the gritted teeth.

“The reason we are in possession of those pictures I've sent you as he was leisurely passing through the security, or maybe layers of supposed security are because of his efforts, sir. He had his men take pictures of him, languidly walking in where the helicopter was which I might add is supposed to be off zone because of the investigation." Then he pauses again, “and he also managed to get to the GEH jet and gained access into it!”

“Shit! Fuck! The jet too?”

“I’m afraid so, sir,” says Welch chagrined.

“How did he get in?”

“He said he used his charms sir,” he says embarrassed.

“His charms? What the fuck! You don’t wear your charm like an identification card! There’s supposed to be protocols of how something is done. Fuck!”

“He does have presence, sir. And he didn’t even have to pretend to be an employee, or someone who had business there. He just sauntered in."

“What about your earlier findings from a month ago?”

“It was presented to Mr. Warren sir. He promised up and down that those security loopholes were negligible, and they were going to be fixed immediately. But as recently as this week it’s been proven by Mr. Pella that nothing had been fixed, in fact it was worse!”

Anger is seeping out of my pores; I run my free hand through my hair in exasperation.

“Has the fucker been scheduled this morning?” I ask, finding myself tapping my fist on my desk.

“Yes, sir. He should be at GEH at exactly 8:00 a.m.”

“Good. We’ll just let him stew a little bit. Let him worry. I want him leaving with his ass in his hand, do you understand? I want no fuckups! How about the rest?”

“No, sir. No fuckups! All as we discussed last night, sir. Have you had a chance to read over the reports I’ve sent you?”

“Backwards and forward! Get them in. I’m not in a forgiving mood today!”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be at GEH shortly, and assemble everything before your arrival.”

“Great! Coordinate with Taylor. I’ll come in at 9:00 today.”

“I’ll call him momentarily, sir.” 

“Fine!” I say hanging up. Ruthless Christian is back!

When I walk back into the breakfast bar area in the kitchen, Anastasia is sipping her weak Twinning's English breakfast tea. Her lovely presence chases away the anger I'm feeling to just below the surface. The sweet image of her with a tea cup, bringing back memories when she and I had champagne from the teacups in her apartment. I savor the look, completely admiring. Something angelic about it and it gives me an idea. A sweet idea. Hmm... I’ll have to make sure to implement it soon. She notices my gaze on her.

“Anything you like Mr. Grey?” she asks smiling.

“The whole package, Miss Steele,” I say sauntering over to her with dark, licentious eyes. Her eyes follow my movements without blinking; her teacup is halfway to her lips, and her bottom lip is within the captivity of her teeth. As I reach before her, I slowly take the teacup from her hand without breaking our gaze; I set it on the counter. I cock my head to the side to admire her better. Her pupils dilate, and her breathing gets rough with my proximity. I lean down and with one hand I pull her chin releasing her lip, and with my own teeth capture it for my own, and slightly suck on it, and she moans in my mouth firing up all my synapses. I push her skirt back separating her legs, and pull her forward towards me as I stand between her legs. While pulling her ponytail with one hand, I push her ass to the edge of the stool towards me to make her sex meet my growing erection, and she gasps in my mouth. Her hands dive into my hair, and pull me towards her, while her silk stocking donned delectable legs wrap around my body; the corner of her high heels deliciously dig into my ass. Our kiss lingers on and on as my tongue invades her familiar mouth, yet a new discovery every time I kiss her as our tongues dance.

“Do we have time?” she asks in my mouth. I smile. As I reluctantly pull away leaving us both breathless, I ask with a devilish smile, “Time for what, Miss Steele?”

“For you to fuck me!”  She demands hot and heavy.

“Why Miss Steele, aren’t you the refined young lady this morning?”

“Christian, you can’t turn me on like this and leave me hot and bothered all day!” she chides.

“As it happens Miss Steele, we can’t this morning,” I reply as her face falls. I can’t be relaxed when I go into the office. “But I’ll take good care of you this evening...” I say with a carnal promise.

“What? No! Why?”

I lean into her ear and whisper. “Don’t try relieve yourself, either. I’ll know. I want all your pleasure tonight,” leaving her panting.

“Christian, you’re not being fair! I want you now!”

“I know baby, I know. I want you too, but all in good time... I promise to take very good care of you later,” I say sensually showing her my desire.

Sexual frustration serves several purposes. When I’m sexually frustrated, I’m like a loaded gun – a lot meaner; that goes double the effect when I have to wait a long time to fuck Anastasia. Of course when she wants me this badly like she does now, my swords are a lot sharper as I need when I get to work today. But the best part is that our lovemaking is sweeter, our desires are at their absolute peak and our fucking is a lot kinkier. Win-win-win.

She narrows her eyes on me, “You’re up to something, Mr. Grey” she says.

“Whatever do you mean, Miss Steele?” I ask feigning innocence.

“Mr. Grey, you’re a lot of things. But innocent, you are not!” she accuses making me grin.

“How well you know me Miss Steele,” I say kissing her passionately once again.

“Tonight!” I say and pack so much promise into that single word; her heartbeat accelerates making her flush.

“I’ll hold you to it,” she replies in a husky whisper holding my biceps tight, “although,” she says as if she remembered something, “I can’t be responsible for the consequences of being left hot and bothered, Mr. Grey.”

“Careful,” say in a low threatening voice. “No one, but me touches this!” I say cupping her sex making her gasp. “Yes,” she says in a breathy voice, “only you, Christian!”

“Good girl. Finish your tea and we’ll leave,” I say, and she does.

As Anastasia is taking her briefcase, Taylor walks in discreetly, and I look up to him, he nods knowing my meaning. Everything is coordinated. I take Anastasia’s hand; walk into the elevator with Sawyer and Taylor. Taylor and Sawyer open the passenger doors to the SUV, and both Anastasia and I enter. Once we are in the SUV, I hold Anastasia’s hand again. Rubbing circles on the back of it, and notice that she crosses her feet to squeeze her thighs together. I look down at her my gaze darkening. She is hot and bothered. Hmm... Maybe she can be persuaded to come home early today. I hold her hand up and opening her palm with my other hand; I kiss it slowly and slightly bite the pad of her pinkie which she responds in a choked moan.

“Hush now,” I say leaning into her ear. “Tonight...” I whisper wanton. She bites her lips darkening my eyes. I thug her chin, releasing her lip.

The SUV comes to a stop in front of SIP and Sawyer leaps out to open my door. I walk out and extend my hand to Anastasia who takes it. I walk her to the door of the SIP.

"No leaving the building. Ask Sawyer if you need anything from outside," I remind her.

"Yes, Sir," she replies sighing, and gives me a quick sweet kiss leaving me standing like an idiot teenager.  Little devil! She knows what she's doing. Perhaps I can pay her back in kind this evening.

*****

“Mr. Grey, Mr. Warren has been waiting for nearly an hour and almost took off a few times, but I managed to keep him here, and finally I had him seated in your office not five minutes ago. He seems...” for a minute I think Andrea is going to say ‘pissed’. “He seems unhappy for having been kept waiting, sir,” she says.

“Good!” I reply.

I walk into my office with innate confidence and Taylor stealthily follows me to his usual spot in my office. Warren whose face is distorted like a king who was waiting for the birth of his next heir, a son, and out came the replica of his ugliest great-great-great uncle in his newborn daughter.

“Mr. Grey,” he says in an unpleasant voice rising to his feet.

“Warren,” I say and ignore his extended hand, walk a few steps, and undo the button on my jacket turning my back to him, and before I go to my seat, I turn around and order him, “Sit!” emphasizing the ‘s’ firmly like one would to his dog ‘heel.’ He obeys immediately. My gaze gives nothing away. Impassive.

(Ecstacy of Gold - from "The Good The Bad The Ugly)



“May I ask why you summoned me this morning Mr. Grey?” he asks uneasy.

I gaze at him wordlessly, piercing him all for thirty seconds. He shifts in his seat uneasy.

“I’m sure you have a well formed opinion Mr. Warren,” I say in a slow, measured, and controlled voice which doesn’t disguise the implied malice in my meaning. He swallows. As if he’s gotten an instant chill he rubs his fingers in his palm in an effort to warm them.

My eyes slightly shift to give a tiny glance to Taylor without even turning my head, so imperceptible that if Taylor and I aren’t this in tune with each other’s instincts, he wouldn’t know. He slowly and stealthily leaves the room without even the knowledge of Andrew Warren. His pink face is turning red by the second. His receding hairline shows beading sweat. His snarky arrogance is sucked out like a deflated balloon by the minute.

 Taylor quietly walks back in and Welch closes the door behind. I look up at him, and he nods imperceptibly. All the pieces of the puzzle are here. Remnants of his former military days still evident on Welch’s close crop cut giving clues that he once was a member of the seals but now a professional, and his slanted scar between his eyebrows is giving him an air of being permanently cross. His green eyes are deep and piercing, and immediately nailing Warren to his seat, giving him an accusatory look. His commanding presence in the office makes him taller than his 6’. He’s in his usual dark suit with matching dark silk tie.  But even in a business suit, his demeanor speaks of a professional soldier walking with upright back like he’s going to spring into a quick step dance with an invisible partner.

“Sir,” he acknowledges me respectfully. He makes a show of bringing the documents I asked for last night all of which he e-mailed and I’ve examined already.

Warren looks defiant, and arrogant as if he’s untouchable.

“Well, I’m waiting Grey,” he says impatiently gaining his composure. “You’ve summoned me here, yet, I still have no idea what it is for, even though,” he says making a show of checking his watch “I’ve been here for one hour and thirty-eight minutes. I’m a busy man,” and with that I jump to my feet like a predator my eyes covered with icy shards of malice. I walk around my desk my gaze fixed on him, unwavering.

“A month ago to date, Welch has warned you of the security lapse in general especially around the GEH aircrafts. We have documented evidence that the lapse points the fault all the way to you; and in fact you in particular showing clear evidence that you have ignored Welch’s repeated warnings,” I say without raising my voice but in such a clear tone, my voice resonates within my office.

“But, surely Mr. Grey, your aircrafts are insured, very well. I’m sure the company you wet leased it from will cover any other cost of repair and then some! Besides, how could I have made sure from my downtown Seattle office that your aircrafts are under surveillance constantly when they’re sitting on the Boeing or the airport tarmac?” he says like the idiot who doesn’t get my point.

The fucker has the gull to imply that my aircrafts are on lease from another company. GEH own all her aircrafts, and employ our own crew down to our mechanics. I do not take my private business to third parties. Therefore none of my aircrafts are wet or dry leased. But this isn’t any of his business to be explained to him.

“Do you think I give fuck that the insurance will cover the damages? Would you want your insurance to cover your worthless life and the life of a coworker because people like you have not been doing their jobs?”

“I don’t have to listen to this shit!”

“Yet, it appears that you do, so sit your fucking ass down, or I’ll make it sit for you,” I say in a calm commanding voice. I nod to Welch who goes and opens the door to my office. About eight people file in, and Warren’s eyes go wide.

“I do not tolerate security lapse at any level of my company. Yet the collected evidence shows that five among here grossly abused their positions, from the lowest,” I look at the security guard, ”to the highest level in a security company,” I say looking at Warren.

“I don’t work for the security company, sir,” says an anabolic steroid recipient who has taken fifteen doses too much.

“Shut up Ronnie! You work for the Boeing Head, and you were working the day Mr. Grey’s helicopter was sabotaged. Rather you were working on Miss Kingsley instead of doing your job!” says the floor manager at Boeing. Ronnie has the decency to look chagrined.

I look at the list in my hand with the captured images from the security cameras, and the names attached to those. My face is impassive, I am anything but. I do not tolerate incompetence that is in such a level that it could have cost me my life and Ross’.

“Joe Coleman!” I call out and a security guy comes forward. “You waived through a man who didn’t belong in the airport; who incidentally sabotaged my helicopter. I hope the hundred bucks you received was worth your job!” I say with an icy glare. “You’re fucking fired! Get the hell out of my building!” His head hangs low, and walks out.

“Sergio Ferrigno,” I call out and a dark haired man about thirty five years old comes forward. “You were the mechanic who signed off the clean bill, that everything was in working order even though it wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Grey; I didn’t have time to check the cables when they called to get the aircraft ready. I just signed it off,” he says as if this explanation would do.

“When you work for someone else next time, you will have the decency to do your job properly, won’t sign your name on a job you didn’t perform! Incompetence is unacceptable! You’re fired! The security will escort you to get your fucking tools. You’re not to set foot near any of my aircrafts!” and he leaves escorted by the security.

“Mr. Sullivan!”

“Yes, sir,” replies Ronnie’s boss.

“Are your witnesses here?”

“Yes, sir, right here,” he says pointing at two impeccably dressed airport personnel. Their upright demeanor, half attention stand, hands clasped in the back, chest forward, buzz cuts tell me that they were recent military recruits.

“You,” I say standing in front of one of the guys, who look straight ahead avoiding my piercing glare.

“Your name?” I order even though I already know what it is.

“Lee Tyson, sir!” he says like the military man he was.

“What do you have to report?” I ask firmly.

“Mr. Yates, here,” he says, correcting himself, “Ronald Yates was on floor duty sir. But despite the repeated warning from myself and Paul Kovak,” nodding at the other ex-soldier without turning his head, “he left the floor to have an encounter with Miss Kingsley, sir!” he gave his account.

“What say you to that Mr. Kovak?” I ask standing in front of the other ex-soldier who also has his eyes fixed ahead, looking at no one or nothing in particular.

“What Mr. Tyson said is the correct account sir. Mr. Ronald Yates and Miss Kingsley disappeared to the utility closet for over half an hour, sir. He was told that he was leaving us shorthanded on the floor, sir!”

“And what was his response to that?” I ask already knowing what it is.

Paul Kovak looks at me for the first time eye to eye. He’s being truthful, but embarrassed to have to pass the next bit of information in such a crowd. My gaze remain impassive, carefully covered the angry Vesuvius under my glacial gaze.

He swallows. “Mr. Ronald Yates said that he couldn’t wait another minute without drilling that sweet ass that’s been waving at him all morning, sir!” he adds.  And Miss Kingsley who has been silent and expressionless until then flushes tomato red. I walk to face Miss Kingsley standing four feet away from her.

“Is that true Miss Kingsley?” I ask in a flat voice.

In a pretty fucking useless way, she straightens her back and pushes forward her very large tits which is possibly why she got the job in the first place putting forward her biggest assets, looks up at me coyly with her overly made up face which could look better had she tried a pound less of it. She tilts her head swinging her brown haired ponytail.

“Oh, I’m sorry sweetie, but I was only...” I cut her off immediately. Clearly she’s not used to speaking to authority.

“You may call me either Mr. Grey or sir! Don’t you ever fucking call me ‘sweetie’! Do you understand?” Her mouth is agape. I don’t think she’s ever gotten a refusal to the show of her tits.

“What?” she asks as if uncomprehending.

“Do you understand what I’m asking you?” I say enunciating.

“Yes, sir,” she says stuttering. She first swallows then looks outraged.

“Miss Kingsley, you and Mr. Yates are fired!”

“What for?” Miss Kingsley asks petulantly.

“In short account Miss Kingsley, you are fired for fucking a coworker on business hours when you were supposed to be working. You’re not paid to fuck! You’re paid to work!”

“But I’m not employed by your company! I’m employed...”

“Allow me Mr. Grey,” says Andy Sullivan walking forward with a grim face looking at his employees. “You both have been a disgrace to our company name, to one of our biggest clients! Not only for neglecting your work you are hired to do, but refusing to listen to your co-workers who have warned you otherwise. Your intimate actions have been captured by the security cameras. In short Miss Kingsley, and Ronnie, you’re both fired! Don’t bother to come back to work tomorrow. The security will escort you to get your belongings now. I don’t wanna see either of you on the premises!”

 As security escorts an embarrassed Ronnie, and a defiant Miss Kingsley, Andy Sullivan herds out the group out of my office.

Warren is the only person remaining in the office other than Taylor and Welch. He makes a move to leave.

“Grey, you may have convinced the airport of those low lives lack of their job enthusiasm, but I’m the CEO of my security company. You can’t fire me! Even if you attempt to do so, I’ll be happy to take you to court!” he bellows with malice.

“You have no fucking idea what I am capable of doing; I can and I will fire your ass! No company I have invested in shall employ a very incompetent CEO, one who is warned a month ahead to fix the very problems that cost four other people their jobs! You were responsible implementing the measures to get rid of the security loopholes and yet you’ve done nothing!”

“You can’t prove that!”

“Welch, read the fucking bastard his rights!”

“Gladly sir,” he says, and gets his documents laid out before him. “Mr. Warren, a month to date, I have paid you a documented visit listing the holes in the overall security and how that effected the GEH aircrafts. We pay a hefty amount for you to fulfill this task each month. Taylor or I have always been in constant contact with you relaying our security demands. What the lack of security or incompetence of those employees just walked out with their hats handed in their hands should have been stopped with your company’s security measures for which we paid amply. We don’t deal with middle management. You have been warned, Mr. Warren, an entire month ago!”

“We hate to lose your business,” says Warren with a snarl, “but...”

“You lose more than the business, Warren. You lose your job! You’re fucking fired!” I seethe with anger.

“You can’t fire me; I’m the CEO of...”

“...Of the company where I own the controlling interest!” I hiss. He turns white as ghost.

“But Mr. Grey...” his tone changes to kiss-ass.

“No one under my command fucks with me and gets to keep their job! Get your ass out of here. Welch! Take the fucking trash out!”

“With pleasure, sir!” he says, and ushers a shocked Warren out of my office.

I sit in my seat rather forcefully and hear the leather in the chair protest. Pressing the intercom I call Andrea.

“Yes, Mr. Grey?

“Are there any pressing meetings or anything on my schedule that can’t be avoided?”

“Nothing we couldn’t reschedule, sir,” she replies.

“Good, then reschedule. I have some personal business to attend,” I say and the change of plans causes Taylor’s eyebrows to shoot up.

“Are we going someplace, sir?” he asks. I hold my finger out to indicate one minute. I don’t want to make Taylor uneasy, because he likes to do a security sweep before I go to someplace, but under the circumstance I have to. I don’t have a lot of time.

I take my Blackberry out, and dial.

“I’m glad you got my text, and called,” says the soft female voice answering.

“Hi, mom!” I say smiling. “I had some pressing business; I couldn’t call you right away. I have a few suggestions for the wedding, and I want them to be exactly the way I tell you! No more, no less!”

“I’m intrigued, and very pleased that you’re participating. When Anastasia came alone yesterday, I didn’t know if...” but I interrupt.

“Of course I want to have my input mother. I’m marrying the girl of my dreams after all! But I trust her taste, and she can decide on a lot of the planning. I want this wedding to be perfect for her, and reflect her dreams; but I want to enhance those dreams with my input, not take away or deviate from them. This is after all what girls dream of since they were little. Since her mother is not here, I am so glad you and Mia are helping her out filling the void. Anastasia didn’t say anything, but I’m sure she’s missing the absence of her mother helping her.”

“Oh, darling! We love Ana, so! Mia and I are extremely excited planning the wedding. You know Mia has studied French culinary, and she has quite a few ideas, and I think they are helping Ana make decisions. They’re the same age anyway, and their tastes are so similar! They’re like sisters, darling! It makes me so happy to be a part of this wedding! Thank you for letting me to do this, baby,” she says in a soft voice.

“It’s our pleasure mother,” I reply her. “I have a list of items actually. I don’t want you to share them with Ana under any circumstances. I want her to be surprised. If you have to let Mia know, tell her to keep her mouth shut. But I’d rather you didn’t tell anyone except the wedding planner you will be working with. Has she signed the NDA?”

“Yes darling,” my mother sighs. “The wedding planner and her staff all did. Although Mia and I are doing all the work, she’s helping us coordinate. I need someone who can take over on the wedding day when I’m enjoying the happiest day of my son’s life,” she says nearly choking.

“Thank you for all the work you’re doing for us, mom!” I say and add, “About the band, I want only what I request to be played, and you may ask for a list from Anastasia, but they can’t play what they deem is good. I will have only my, as well as Ana’s prescribed list to be played. And there are two musicians I want playing on my wedding aside from the band. I want their agents to be contacted immediately. Let me know if this is something you want my staff to do here.”

“Christian!” she chides me. “I know quite a few of the musicians myself through my charity work. If you want people to be surprised, the fewer people know the better. So let me handle it. I’m dying to know! Who are they?”

I grin wide and tell her the two names I have in mind, and even Taylor hears her joyful scream for which he smiles wide! Another surprise.

“But that’s not all. I want to do something else. It has to do with...” I say and explain my plan.

“Christian, you would do that for her?” my mother’s voice is completely shocked, reverent, and amazed all at the same time, as if she just met me. You have no idea what I would do for her, I think to myself. No idea, at all! Even Taylor looks surprised who most often looks like he wants to hand me my ass because of something I say or don’t say to Anastasia. If I didn’t know if he was in love with Gail, I’d kick his ass to the curb, but I’m going with avuncular with him as far as Anastasia is concerned.

“What the hell. I’m in for a penny; I’m in for a pound, mom. Oh, by the way, I have another request in regards to music...” I say and explain what I want.

“Wow! That’s out of convention Christian. But, oddly it’s extremely romantic! I love the idea. I’ve never heard anyone do it!”

“Nothing about Anastasia and I are within convention, mom. But I want it exactly like that,” I say missing my girl with the mention of her name.

“Yes, I would say so,” she says and I feel her smile on the other side of the phone.

“By the way, I want her in a red dress,” I add.

“Ana?”

“No, mother,” I sigh exasperated.

“Oh, can I request that?” she asks.

“Long, red, satin dress,” I reiterate.

“Okay... Do I want to know what that means? Never mind... I’ll make sure it’s done.”

“Thank you, mom,” I say without replying her question. Of course it means something. It means a lot of things. “I will e-mail you the list shortly. Let me know if you need anything. I already have a wedding account set up, and Andrea will contact you with the specifics of it.”

“Christian!” she protests.

“Mother, don’t start that! I will pay for everything, because you’re doing so much with planning already which I completely appreciate. And you’re letting us have the wedding at your house. Use the money I am allocating. Please,” I say.

“Alright, about you and your father, have you two made up yet?”

“Not quite, but I am willing to rectify the situation today.”

“Really, how?”

“Leave that to me,” I say smiling.

“Christian, it may be hard for you to understand now. It may take a long time to understand it in fact, but remember, no matter how he does it, your father loves you, and he does what he does out of love. He’s still reeling in from Elena incident. Stand up for Anastasia, but give him the benefit of the doubt.”

I sigh. “I’ll do what I can, mom. Anastasia is off limits.”

“He understands that now. He won’t mention it again.”

“Good. I love you mom,” I say surprising both my mom and Taylor.

“I love you too, darling,” and we hang up.

“Taylor, we’ll have to go shopping.”

“Shopping sir?”

“Yes, for a wedding ring.”

“With pleasure sir.”

“Let’s use the same jeweler. I like their work on the engagement ring.”

“If you give me a few minutes, sir, I’ll call them, and have them clear the store. We don’t want prying eyes around.” I nod.  While Taylor walks out to make his phone call, I quickly send my mother the e-mail with my requests for the wedding. But there is already a message from her.

___________________________________________________________

From: Grace T. Grey
Subject: Invitations
 Date: June 21, 2011 11:04
 To: Christian Grey, Anastasia Steele

Hi Christian and Ana,

I completely forgot to ask either of you. We need to get the invitations out, I need your guest lists, and given the color scheme you requested, I have picked up some samples for your invitations. Please let me know which ones you like best, and get back to me as soon as possible, so they can be ordered and sent out.

Love you both!

Mom

Attachment: Invitation1.jpg, Invitation2.jpg, Invitation3.jpg
___________________________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Invitations
Date: June 21, 2011 11:08
To: Grace T. Grey

Hi Mom,

Anastasia and I will look over the invitations this evening, and send you a response as soon as we can. Thank you for all you’re doing for us, mom. Attached is the list of the people to be invited for me, and I’m sure Anastasia will provide you with her list. The other list is what I have mentioned on the phone. Make sure you delete all the attachments from the message if you respond to both me and Anastasia.

Love you mom.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Inc.

Invite.doc, Wedding requests.doc

___________________________________________________________

Taylor walks back into my office and waits for me to finish my message.

“All set sir. We can go. They’ll be waiting for us,” he says, I nod in response.

When we get in the elevator, I turn to Taylor and ask, “Taylor, I’m going to give you a timetable for the jet to be scheduled for my honeymoon, and the destinations. Coordinate it with the crew, and give me the scheduled itinerary and make sure everyone’s passports are in working order, including Anastasia’s. Have Sawyer get her passport done tomorrow and have it expedited. Those suckers take a long time to be mailed. Also, coordinate with Welch to arrange security at every destination point.”

“Yes, sir. Have you determined the destinations?”

“I have, I’ll e-mail it to you this evening, and CC it to Welch. You two need to coordinate, and I have specific preferences as far as the places I want us to stay.”

“I’ll make sure it’s done to specifications, sir.”

“You are traveling with us. Sawyer will stay behind to watch over Escala and Gail, unless she wishes to stay with her sister,” I add after seeing Taylor’s face turn sour, and his answer is quick.

“I’d prefer it if she stays with her sister in my absence, sir. I’m sure Sawyer can hold the fort down on his own,” he says and I want to laugh at his response, but I don’t, knowing the kind of men we are: Possessive.  It also gives me another reason to trust Taylor with Anastasia, because his response just confirmed me that he is completely in love with Gail, and that means his affection for my girl is only avuncular, and I like it to stay that way.

“We won’t be in town, so, you can arrange it with Gail. Whatever you two decide is fine. She won’t be losing any of her vacation time. It’ll give her a break and she’ll see her family,” I say. Taylor nods, but from the looks of it, he doesn’t like Gail’s sister as much. Taylor is a great guy, but his line of work in high profile security, the fact that he’s divorced with a child may not make him look as appealing to Gail’s family. All they have to do is to get to know the man behind the façade. As I’m tangled in my thought the elevator dings open, and we’re in the garage. My Blackberry buzzes with an incoming e-mail. I take a glance and the name of the sender brings a glint to my eyes. Taylor’s voice brings me back to my senses.

“Sir?” He’s opened the door and letting me into the SUV. After I take my seat, I open the e-mail.

___________________________________________________________
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Rising Temperatures
Date: June 21, 2011 11:44
To: Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grey,

I hope you’re aware of the predicament you’ve put me under this morning. I couldn’t concentrate all through this morning’s editors meeting. All I could do was nod. They had to repeat themselves quite often to get their points across. I don’t want to look stupid all day, Mr. Grey. Are you sure self-relief is not an option, sir?

ILY

Ana
xx
___________________________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Absolutely NOT!
Date: June 21, 2011 11:49
To: Anastasia Steele

Miss Steele,

I’m out and about already. If you so desire, I can make a stop at your work and provide the much needed relief. Otherwise, you will have to wait. Perhaps I can pick you up earlier. DON’T try to relieve yourself. I will know.

Christian Grey

Relief Provider, CEO, Grey Enterprises Inc.

___________________________________________________________

Her response is quick.

___________________________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: no...
Date: June 21, 2011 11:44
To: Christian Grey

...conjugal visits required Mr. Grey. Not at SIP! But, I am really having a hard time holding until till this evening. 

Ana

xx
___________________________________________________________

“Taylor, quick detour!”

“Sir?”

“It seems I’m hungry, and I need to take an early lunch. We’re going to pick Miss Steele up from work. Inform the jeweler.”

“Yes, sir,” he says, and dials the jeweler.

I take my Blackberry out and call Andrea.

“I need you to make me a quick lunch reservation... Private room,” I order.

By the time Taylor pull in front of SIP, the jeweler is rescheduled, and lunch reservation is made.

“Wait for me, I’ll get Miss Steele,” I say, and Sawyer meets me at the door.

“Everything alright, sir?”

“Yes, just fine. I’m going to take Miss Steele to lunch.”

He walks me in, and when we get to Anastasia’s door, he discreetly turns his back and waits. Anastasia is completely surprised to see me.

“What? How? What are you doing here, Christian?” she asks bemused.

“Why Miss Steele, I came to provide you with the much needed relief,” I murmur making her breathing accelerate.

“Christian, I told you not here...” she says her eyes widening.

“Well, Miss Steele, you can take your pick. I can fuck you on either of the two options. Here, in your office, or, I’ve made lunch reservation with a private room, we can go there,” I say in a low voice lasciviously.

“Oh,” she says her right hand clutching to her chest while the other arm is holding onto her waist as if to push her desires down. Maybe I need to fire them up.

I take a step forward.

“You don’t look so good, Miss Steele. Are you well?” I ask closing the distance between us. “You look flushed,” I whisper leaning down while I caress her cheek with the side of my index finger. Her breath hitches, and she leans into my caresses. The only connection we have is through my finger and her cheek. She reaches out to me, but I make a stopping motion to her.

“No, no, Miss Steele. Here, or at lunch? Your choice.”

“I didn’t ask my boss if I could go out to lunch.”

“I’m your boss’s boss’s boss. You can go to lunch with me,” I say convincingly. She looks at me with her eyes narrowed.

“You’re not being fair, Christian!”

“What’s not fair baby? You need relief. God knows I need relief. What’s more I need you. Now!” I can see the desire rising in her. Without breaking her gaze, she picks up her phone, and dials her boss.

When Anastasia confirms her long lunch break, I take her hand firmly in mine and walk her to the waiting SUV. Sawyer remains behind at the SIP.

“Mr. Grey, the Maître D will be waiting for us at the back entrance, so you can avoid the general crowd,” says Taylor.

“Good,” I reply.

The maître D takes us to our private dining room. It’s small and cozy. I have already placed my food and wine order before our arrival which should save us time.

“Would you like your food now or would you like to enjoy your wine sir?”

“Give us about 30 minutes for the food. I want the appetizer first,” I say. As he walks out, I go to the door, and pull Taylor aside.

“After they bring the appetizers, no one walks through that door for at least 30 minutes. Give me a buzz, before.”

“Yes, sir,” he replies firmly. I walk back into the dining room.

“What was that about?” asks Anastasia.

“Nothing of consequence, baby,” I reply.  I take my seat close to Anastasia, my gaze fixed on her, darkening. My thumb grazes my lower lip.

“Christian,” she utters my name with so much sensuality and desire, my cock goes into full salute mode.

“Anastasia, take off your panties...” I order in a husky voice.

“Here?” she asks questioning, looking at the door.

“Don’t worry about the door, it’s been secured,” I say.

“Taylor?” she asks blushing.

“Don’t worry about Taylor, baby,” I say my gaze fixed on her without touching. I want all her attention and focus. She looks squeamish.

“Christian, your bodyguard is out there, and people will be bringing food.”

“I don’t give a fuck, Ana,” I murmur. She downs her wine. “Right now, all I want to do is to peel you out of your blouse, your skirt, your panties, and your bra,” I say slowly giving her the inventory. Her breath hitches, she swallows. My Blackberry buzzes.

It’s a text message from Taylor.

*Appetizers are here*

Without a word, I walk to the door, and let the waiter bring in the bed of oysters along with olives and nuts. When he goes out, Taylor nods, and I close the door behind. I have thirty minutes.

I look at Anastasia with my gaze darkening, and she stands up, slowly pulls her skirt up to the line where the tops of her silk stockings are showing with the clipped garter belt; I swallow hard. Her fingers reach up to the top of her lacy black panties. She makes a show of hooking her thumbs under her panties, and runs them around her waist. Then slowly and leisurely she slides them down. They pool at her feet. As she makes a move to take her feet out of them, I say, “Stop,” and move forward taking her hand, and walk her out of her panties. As I lean down, my gaze locked with her my hands are on her hips slowly skimming down her legs making her shiver. I finally reach down to the floor and pick her panties up, and place them into my pocket.

As I rise up, my hands skim through her silk stalking clad legs finally reaching the apex of her thighs where I grasp her sex in my palm making her gaps.

“Undo all but two of your shirt’s buttons, baby,” I murmur.

“Yes,” she breathes huskily. As my palm is running circles around her clitoris, I dip a finger into her already wet and greedy sex. She leans back to the table holding it with both hands. My other hand goes up to her bra and caresses her breasts over the lacy material. I pull the bra cup back one at a time making her breast thrust forward, freeing them into my awaiting hand. Between the thumb and the index finger I roll her nipple and capture the other nipple between my teeth, slightly tugging while my tongue rolls around it, licking and teasing.

She arches her back thrusting herself into my awaiting hands and mouth. My lips travel up to her neck nipping and sucking softly as my hands continue their ministrations. My teeth graze over her jaw and the corner of her mouth but never kissing her. I pull away from her and make her firmly sit on the table as she holds the sides with her hands and her feet are firmly placed on the floor.

“Baby, when I kneel on this floor before your gorgeous sex, I want those beautiful legs wrapped around my neck,” I murmur to her ear. I kneel on the floor eye level from her sex and as my lips merge with her apex, her legs clad in silk stockings wrap around my neck. My tongue teases and sucks her little nub making her legs shake around my shoulders. I dip inside her sex and circle relentlessly counter clockwise. And I find her sweet spot at the front wall of her vagina, and provide her the relief she’s been craving all morning long, making her shout a garbled version of my name, completely lost in pleasure.

As her legs tremble with the aftershocks of her orgasm she can barely stay upright.

I slowly hold her up.

“Baby, I’m going to tie your hand in front of you now, I want you to put them around my neck. Okay?” I ask, and she can only nod her head. I take her panties out of my pocket and tie her hands quickly in front of her, and she looks amused with my impromptu choice of a restraining device. I unzip my pants and my impatient erection springs out.

“Now, I want to bury myself inside you and lose myself,” I whisper. Pulling her skirt up to her waist, I separate her legs, and make her take me in her sex inch by inch.

(A Touch Too Much - AC/DC)

“Hold, for a second,” I say breathless. “Let me savor you,” and the feeling of completeness is exhilarating. We are as close as any two people can get. Her restrained arms wrapped around my neck, my cock is buried balls deep in her, and her breasts are rubbing on my chest. She captures her bottom lip again between her teeth, and I automatically lean in and suck it out of its captivity, kissing her relentlessly. The tension from last night, and this morning has built up, and now seeking release. My tongue invades her mouth, and she forces her into mine, clashing, and seeking another release. My hands slowly move to her naked behind, and I coax her into moving. My mouth tastes of her sex, and sweet spices of her mouth, and it’s an intoxicating concoction. My teeth start grazing her lips, and she gasps. My mouth moves down to her neck licking, trailing kisses down between her breasts, and she thrusts them into my mouth which I happily take with a grin, and suck forcefully, greedily, bringing her to the line between pain and pleasure. She groans in response and her movements speed up.  When she pushes her hips down I thrust up finding the deepest spot in her. I locate my favorite spot in her and stop her movements with my hands and simply gyrate my hips to create extreme friction to give her double orgasm. She moves her hips opposite direction to mine providing the maximum pleasure for both of us. As my lips move onto the next nipple, I feel her sex tightening, and contracting building up for her orgasm. I stop gyrating and make her move up and down, and move up to her lips making sure she's fucked at both ends. As I guide her ass with one hand, I start rubbing her clitoris with the other, and she moans in my mouth, and her built up orgasm rolls in long waves, tightening her sex around my cock trying to milk me for all I got, and I reach my peak, and thrust deeper and harder, and sucking and fucking, making love, uniting our souls with our kiss and we both come loudly.

Anastasia’s head falls over my shoulder with a thin sheen of sweat covering her lovely, flushed face. I kiss her once again sweetly, and undo her panties. I lay her on the booth, and clean her sex and put her panties back on, and put her to her rights. After cleaning myself up, I turn around and ask my tired woman, “Hungry?” to which she responds, “famished,” half dazed. Music to my ears.

My Blackberry buzzes just in time.

*Food’s here.*

  *****

“Mr. Grey! What a pleasure to have you in our store sir. How may we assist you?” asks the old jeweler. He’s not only the best jeweler in Seattle, but his is one of the oldest jewelry businesses in the world. What can I say? I do my homework.

“My fiancée is quite happy with the ring you’ve created. I’m looking to get her twin. I don’t mean alike. I want you to create me another ring that won’t take from the first ring’s simplicity or its grandeur, just to match it in a different way.”

“I would assume you would want a matching platinum band.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I want to be able to see your stones. What interests me is not the biggest, or the flashiest. I want one of a kind,” I say firmly my gaze fixed on his wrinkled face.

“You are unconventional sir. I will show you our uncut stones as well again and perhaps some others...” he says in a barely audible voice and walks back into the store. Three security guards wait around patiently.

When the old jeweler comes out, he has a tray of stones placed in certain labeled cubbies. They are big stones, and luminous, reflective, and attention getters, but none of them speaks to me.

“Oddly, Mr. Caria, I feel no connection to any of these stones. Do you have any other?” His eyes gleam as if this was the answer he was looking for.

“Yes, sir. Four others,” he says, and opens a very dated unornamented wooden box. Two of the stones immediately grab my attention. One has the shape of a pointed boat, which the jeweler calls Marquise, and another one shaped like a pear. Both luminescent even without any light shining on them and they're colorless. I have a hard time deciding. Something about them captures me. The Marquise shaped like a boat, would make her beautiful finger look even slimmer and longer, and it reminds me of The Grace. But there’s something about the other one. It calls to me in a deeper level; I feel an instant connection with this inanimate object. The jeweler notices my indecision.

“Perhaps,” he says, “a background in the diamonds would be beneficial. This sir,” he holds out the diamond between his gloved thumb and index finger, “is the bigger of the two. This is like the other one you have purchased, except of course the Marquise is 15 carats. It has the same luminosity, and they’re both colorless. Well, colorless to the untrained eye. You might see a slight darkening in this one, but you have to be like me looking at them for over 45 years, sir.  Comparing the Marquise with the pear shaped diamond pricewise, the Marquise costs slightly more, but not by much.”

“Why is that? You said the Marquise is bigger.”

“The difference in price is about $60,000 sir which is negligible,” he says, and Taylor nearly makes a choking sound but he discreetly hides it as a cough. “Though they’re both unique, the pear shaped diamond is one of the rarest in the world. In fact it’s the twin of the Spoonmaker’s Diamond. Or I should say twin stories.”

I think to myself that the old man needs a cataracts surgery; there are huge differences between the two diamonds aside from their shapes.

“I know the Spoonmaker’s Diamond is yellow. This one is colorless. I think the other one is about 87 carats, and this is, what, 10 or 12?”

“It’s 12 carats sir. But I said, twin stories, sir. Not twin colors or size. They can be equal in beauty, and don’t have to be the same color or size. Don’t you agree Mr. Grey? But what is twin about the two is their story. They’re nearly identical.”

“Do tell,” I say and sit back crossing my arms.

“Jewelry is a family business for us for more generations than I can count, sir, it’s in our blood. When the city of Constantinople was conquered by the Turks in 1453, one of my ancestors owned the largest jeweler at the time that served the emperor Constantine the XI. After all the dust settled post power exchange, people went on with their lives, but certain people took the notice of the new young Sultan who was only 21 years of age. Scientists, poets, writers, historians, architects, artists and jewelers who could create rare masterpieces, like my ancestors took this young brilliant Sultan’s notice; my grandfather of many generations ago was one of those who took his notice.

This little piece which was marked by that grandfather at the time of the Sultan, lost sight of this but its story remained and this little girl traveled around the world, until it has shown itself in 1822 to another ancestor of mine, and made its way to the new world. Well, her initial story goes that this poor fisherman was wondering idly in Constantinople near a district called Yenikapı. The man had nothing, completely empty-handed, no money or possessions to buy anything, not even half a piece of bread. He walks around the rubble, and garbage in hopes of finding something worth to eat. Then he notices a shiny stone among the piles of trash, rubbish, and garbage as he was digging through them to perhaps to find anything eatable. Not knowing what it is, he pockets the shiny stone.

So after walking around with this piece of pretty stone in his pocket, he remembers what he has and stops by the first jeweler he encounters. Of course the jeweler recognizes the value of it with one single casual glance. But not wanting to have another bidder in purchasing this rare jewel, he appears uninterested, and tells the poor fisherman, ‘It’s a piece of colored glass my good man. You may take it away if you wish, or I can give you three wooden spoons for it for all the trouble you’ve taken to bring it over here.’ So, what would a poor fisherman know about the value of a rare gem? It’s no different than a piece of glass to him. And he takes the spoons and leaves the diamond selling it to the jeweler. You see sir, that’s how it got its name as the Spoonmaker’s diamond. Someone who didn’t know its value sold it for a price far...far... far... below it’s worth. This one,” he holds up showing it to me in a different light “has traveled a similar route by the time it reached us several generations ago, it seeks to find that one individual who knows its value. It’s as if this stone has a heart of her own. I have not parted with it. And I’m showing it to you now because, you sir, with the care and attention you’ve shown in your previous purchase deserve to see it, and you are the first one, ever I’m showing this to sell. We, as a business have fallen into hard times in the past. But none of my ancestors parted with it knowing its value, and only a worthy owner should have it. None as worthy came before you.”

“This diamond,” he says holding it up, “gives the appearance of a full moon lighting a bright and shiny sky amidst the stars. This diamond; thought I wouldn’t want to part with, is a lucky piece of stone. Throughout the history, it always found its worthy owner. No one stole it, or harmed its owner and lived. It’s as if this piece of jewel chooses its owner. I am retiring quite soon, and I have no sons to speak of to run my business, though I have nephews who are not old school like me;  though none of them are poor in money, they, like the poor fisherman are devoid of understanding its true value. I think it’s time to find her a worthy owner,” he says looking at me with a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

For the first time in a long time, I’m speechless. I have seen the passion in this man’s eyes for love of his profession, that’s engrained in him.

“You can have it appraised sir, though I don’t know if you can find another jeweler more qualified than I to appraise it. You see sir; my family has been in this business for nearly six hundred years upon three continents. I’m the last old school in my family line.”

Even Taylor is listening attentively.

“If you have a one of a kind woman, this is one of a kind jewel. It’s called ‘a bouquet of light’ sir.”

I find myself saying, “I want it,” because the story of it is worth as much as the ring itself. One of a kind like my girl.