THIS IS PART II OF PAGING DR STEELE. DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVE NOT READ ALL 70 CHAPTERS OF PAGING DR STEELE OR YOU ARE ABOUT TO READ SEVERAL SPOILERS.
I do not own Fifty Shades Trilogy or the characters. They belong to E. L. James. I am only exercising my right to exploit, abuse, and mangle the characters to MY discretion in MY story in MY interpretation as a fan. I hope you—as a fellow fan—enjoy it, too.
Chapter 12—Goodbye 2012
Am I seeing this right? Am I really seeing this right? I am frozen in my spot as I swear that I see a ghost standing at the guards’ station casually asking for information. I can’t be seeing this correctly… he can’t be here. I walk away from the elevator and proceed slowly further into the lobby like a cat stalking her prey. This bastard is not in my city. How dare he show his face here!
“Ana, what’s wrong?” Chuck says from behind me. At the mention of my name, he raises his head and our eyes meet… and he smiles at me! The fucker smiles at me! I am absolutely horrified. He looks at me in a sinister, knowing way that sears my stomach. For a moment, I can’t move.
“Ana, who is that?” Chuck says, but I can’t respond. I start to float over to him, or at least that’s what it felt like because I can’t feel my feet touch the ground. I can hear Chuck behind me…
“Jason, you better get down here. I think we’ve got a situation…”
He steps around the guards’ desk until we are face-to-face.
“Anastasia Steele. It’s been a long time,” he says, his voice taunting. I dare not say his name. I am stuck in a bit of a stupor. How can he be here. “What’s the matter, Darling? Cat got your tongue?” No, you sick asshole. I just can’t for the life of me fathom why you would dare come to my state… to my city… to my boyfriend’s damn building! Do you have a death wish? I’m thinking these things but nothing is coming out of my mouth.
“Same old Ana,” he jeers. He leans in to my ear. “Funny, I don’t remember you being so quiet when I popped that sweet cherry of yours.”
I swear I don’t remember what happened next.
Time went by in a bit of a haze and all I can remember thinking is that I wanted to rip his fucking throat out so that he couldn’t talk anymore, the sick fuck. Unfortunately, ripping someone’s throat out is not easy if you don’t have the correct equipment for the job, but I gave it a try anyway. I remember hearing someone say, “Okay, that’s enough! He’s down!” I don’t know if it was Jason or Chuck or one of the other guys. All I know is that his ass was lying on the floor, I saw blood, and he wasn’t moving. I looked at the stunned faces of the gentlemen around me, and the body lying on the floor before me.
“You should have kept your ass in Green Valley! She who laughs last laughs best, Whitshit!” I say before spitting in his unconscious face. I look up at Jason. “Tell Christian that my rapist is here.” I turn around military style and rush out of the building, putting as much space between me and Whitshit as possible.
Chuck rushes to one of the Audis and quickly opens the door for me. I bolt into the passenger seat and quickly fasten my seat belt. He is in the driver’s seat in seconds.
“Where to, Ana?” he asks.
“Escala. I need to clean up.” He pulls out of the parking garage and merges into traffic. We are not driving two minutes when I hear “Love All The Hurt Away” playing on my phone.
“Yes, Christian?” I answer calmly. He is quiet for a moment—so quiet that I think he may have butt-dialed me.
“Anastasia?” I don’t know if his tone is angry, confused, or concerned.
“Yes, Christian?” I repeat.
“Ana… I think you broke his jaw.”
“So?” I state flatly. “He killed my baby which by the way was also his baby. I’d hardly say that we’re even.” I hear Christian sigh on the other end.
“What do you need?” he asks resigned.
“Him the fuck out of Seattle, but right now I need to go home and change so that I can meet with Mandy.”
“Will you be okay, Baby?” Now I hear the concern.
“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll let you know,” I say honestly.
“Please let me know what you need… the moment you know what it is… okay?” He feels displaced right now. He is out of his element because he doesn’t quite know how to help me.
“The very moment,” I promise him. “Right now, get him out of Seattle. I don’t care if it’s in pieces in a body bag right now. Get him out of Seattle. If I see him again, he’s a dead man.”
“Will do, Baby,” Christian says calmly. I end the call without saying anything else. That’s something that I never do with Christian and I’m not sure why I did it then. A few moments later, Chuck’s phone rings and he taps his bluetooth.
“Davenport… Yes… I do… You got it.” That was the whole conversation.
“Jason?” I ask. Although I don’t turn my head, I can see him glance at me in my peripheral.
“Yes,” he responds flatly.
“He told you to keep an eye on me?” I inquire, still not looking at him.
“Yes.” I pause for a moment.
I get back to Escala and text Mandy that I will be about 20 minutes late. I go to the bedroom, strip, and take a quick but scalding hot shower, including washing my hair. After clean underwear, I don my black Earnest Sewn Harlan skinny jeans with a cream cashmere cowl-neck sweater and my black Roberto Cavalli black studded leather knee-high boots. I dry my hair quickly and put it in a messy bun. At the last minute, I grab Christian’s Pierotucci black Italian leather bomber jacket. I put all of the clothes that I wore that day, including the underwear, in a trash bag and drop it down the garbage chute on my way out of the apartment with Chuck.
It must have been written all over my face—I wasn’t putting up with any shit today. The decorator, planner, boutique, baker, and caterer were all spot-on with our final preparations and no one gave us one bit of trouble. Even the DJ returned the song list with a perfect mix of music for Dad and Mandy as well as for an upscale but fun New Years Eve party. Mandy was getting the elegant winter wonderland that she wanted, Dad was getting his Budweiser, and we were getting to throw a fantastic New Years Eve party/wedding. Now to get the sister here with no incident.
Lexia is Mandy’s little sister and, from what I’m told, “Mom’s favorite.” She’s the one that went to college and married and had children while Mandy couldn’t wait to leave home and be on her own, making her own way in the world without a man up to this point—much like me. Her sister has spent many years making Mandy feel like an unwanted spinster and her mother is just very self-centered. Needless to say, Mandy hasn’t had much contact with them.
Because they are her only relatives to speak of besides more distant relations, Mandy opted to invite the ladies to the wedding/party. She is fairly certain that her mother won’t attend as she can’t be bothered with events that involve the “lesser” daughter. Her mother and my mother sound like they could be best friends. Lexia however would not miss the opportunity to see who her sister is finally marrying and, as Mandy has pointed out, the opportunity to show her up at her own wedding. I have promised Mandy that I will behave during her wedding, but I have also made it clear that I will have that harpy removed if she causes any problems. This is luckily something that we agree on.
After approving the last few items needed for the wedding, Mandy is exhausted and decides to go home for some rest. I take this moment to review Maxie and Phil’s guest list and tell them that they each need to skim 20 people from the list if they want to use the venue that they have chosen. Like it or not, they will have do-drops… every wedding does. I have also double-checked that the next fitting for Maxie’s gown and the bridesmaids dresses will be the first week of January. I will be glad when Dad and Mandy’s wedding is over so that I can concentrate on Maxie’s. I don’t want to forget anything.
I am leaving “Things Remembered” in the Southcenter Mall after picking up some items that I wanted to use as party favors on New Years Eve and I am shocked to see a familiar face just a few feet in front of me. As Chuck and I headed towards the exit, we get a glimpse of the one and only Elena Lincoln—being ceremoniously escorted out of Nordstrom! I would have paid money to have seen what that was all about. Instead, I gesture to Chuck to stay back while She-Thing straightens her clothes and heads towards the exit. I wait a few moments, hoping that the has made her way to whatever Pedo-mobile that she’s driving these days before we make our way out of the mall.
I should have waited longer.
Apparently, Pedo-Bitch’s chariot had not yet arrived when Chuck and I exited the mall. She is standing right next to the fire lane waiting for her ride and our eyes meet squarely when I walk out the door. She doesn’t dare say a word to me with the no-contact order in place and I have absolutely nothing to say to her. I roll my eyes dramatically and walk away from her, putting a little switch in my hips to show her exactly what Christian is riding these days. You can’t touch me, Bitch. You’ve got problems of your own.
It’s about 6:30 when I have finished all of my errands for both weddings and Chuck and I make our way back to Escala. When we step into the great room, Christian comes out of his office like he has been searching for something all evening and freezes when he sees me.
“You changed,” he says, flatly.
“Yes, I did,” I respond.
“May I ask why?”
“To forget what I was wearing this day and to never wear it again—which I already have since the entire ensemble is now somewhere in the garbage pile in the basement.” His face softens immediately. “Is he gone?” I add.
“Yes,” he responds. “You’re wearing my jacket.” I look down at the oversized bomber jacket.
“Yes, I am,” I respond. He walks slowly over to me and I notice that Chuck has stealthily disappeared.
“You look hot,” he says, coming still closer to me.
“Really?” I ask, matter-of-factly.
“Really,” he responds closing the space between us. “You in my jacket—it’s like I’ve been hugging you all day, and those boots… very provocative.”
“You don’t say?” I say, cocking my head to the side.
“Um-hmm.” He is now standing right in front of me. “And these jeans…” He runs his hands down my hips and up the back of my thighs until they perfectly cup my ass, pulling me against his rock hard body. “They’re like a second skin.”
“Yeah?” I breathe.
“Yeah,” he says, closing his lips over mine. I couldn’t possibly have sex tonight… he damn near killed me last night. As if he were reading my mind, Christian croons, “Wanna make out?”
“Um-hmm,” I purr as I tangle my fingers in his hair and he claims my lips again. Dragging me over to the sofa without breaking our kiss, he pushes his jacket off my shoulders and sits down taking me with him and straddling my legs on either side of him as we make out. We are biting, nibbling, kissing, and feeling each other for hours—straight past dinner, which we never do—and into the night. After lots of first base and second base kissing and petting, we turn in for the night and I fall asleep wrapped in Christian’s arms.
In the days that followed, the rest of the Scooby Gang finds time to talk to Christian separately. Each of them had come to me—like Valerie—expressing concern that the relationship they had forged with Christian was permanently destroyed. Maxie is the toughest, though. Her attacks were more personal, and Christian is having a harder time looking over what she did. She is prepared to grovel for as long as is necessary as even though she swears that her intentions were honorable, she knows that she grossly overstepped her bounds. She got all caught up in the “doctor” thing and threw everyone else’s opinion aside if they didn’t match hers.
… And Christian doesn’t take kindly to being bullied.
He is particularly protective of me, and anyone who doesn’t see eye-to-eye with him when it comes down to me had better approach with caution. I can’t help but wonder if he’s going to have a problem with Maxie still being my therapist. I confide quite a bit in her, but he doesn’t know that I don’t discuss our relationship much with her. I save that for our sessions with Dr. Baker. Maybe if I had discussed them more with her, she would have understood Christian’s reaction a little better. I ponder that thought a bit and my mind immediately drifts back to a conversation that I had with Christian about why I wouldn’t do joint sessions with Flynn.
I had asked him exactly how much progress he had made with John over all of the years that he had been seeing him. I knew that John was a fantastic sounding board, but sounding boards most often listen—allow you to bounce ideas off of them and actually come to your own conclusions. How could he possibly have been a good judge of character? If he’s working on a personal issue of not being trusting of people in general, then how can he be open-minded and objective when you speak to him?
I had reminded him that I know that in this profession, there has to be a healthy amount of skepticism, but general overall mistrust is a different thing. It didn’t matter that it was Christian. If I had a friend or a family member or a colleague or anybody that told me that they were seeing a psychiatrist that had inherent trust issues with everyone that they met, I would tell them to find another psychiatrist. I can’t even imagine being effective at my job if every time someone sat across from me, I approach the session and the person with distrust. If that were the case, I would need to be the person sitting in that seat and someone else would need to be the person examining my head!
This train of thought of course dominoes down to our first meeting with Dr. Baker. Good Lord, that was one for the books! It was two weeks after Christian fired Flynn. Christian hadn’t seen another therapist since he was a teenager. He knew that it was necessary but hell, it was about as comfortable as a pap smear! We had to rehash the things that brought us to the meeting because Flynn had yet to release Christian’s records, and Christian was none to keen about it. I remember Dr. Baker watching him intently as he spoke. She was examining him, reading his body language. She was more traditional and textbook in some of her approaches, but contemporary in others. For example, she allowed me and Christian to talk about things—particularly the fight over Flynn—and she just watched our interaction. She knew that she would get a more realistic reaction from our conversation than she would from an interview session.
Boy, was she right!
Christian had become very emotional about the fight and the silent treatment, and not in a good way. I was quite defensive about my feelings, how Flynn treated me, and my resulting reaction. As the interaction became more heated, Dr. Baker tried to interject in an effort to calm the situation a bit and, in usual Fifty fashion, Christian took his Dom stance let her have it.
Not a good move, Grey.
This seemingly meek woman slammed her portfolio onto a nearby end table, snatched off her glasses and let Mr. Grey know exactly where he stood in her office:
“Now you wait just one minute! You decided that you wanted my help. I didn’t seek you out, you sought me. Now I understand that you have some fresh issues and new feelings that you may be dealing with, and I don’t know how your previous therapist handled you, but make no mistake. I will not be mistreated or belittled by you. I will not tell you what you want to hear, I will tell you what you need to hear. You may or may not like it, and you may or may not choose to accept it, but you will hear it and you will not disrespect me for doing my job. If you do not wish to hear what I have to say or ever feel that you no longer need my assistance, feel free to leave voluntarily. However, if you ever take that tone or stance in my office again, I will have you forcibly removed. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Grey?”
Needless to say, Christian immediately remembered his station in this particular setting and returned to his seat. The problem was that getting him to open up for any more of that session was a feat befitting Hercules himself. By the end of it, we were both completely exhausted and actually slept in different rooms that night—only because I went to bed right after dinner and he fell asleep face down on his desk.
Now, he’s face-to-face with another shrink, only this time he’s attempting to mend a broken relationship. He doesn’t like shrinks as it is, so Maxine has an uphill battle on her hands. We’ll just have to see if she thinks it’s worth the trip.
The calls and emails from Mr. St. John continue between Christmas and New Years. He simply will not take “no” for an answer and he is willing to take whatever verbal lashing that I will give him in order to get me to come and give Melanie her proverbial “last rites.” I have taken to allowing most calls to go to voice mail, which means that my voice mail gets full quite quickly with St. John begging me to come and put the bitch out of her misery. I don’t see why he can’t get it—why he can’t see that I simply cannot see that woman again. What the hell is wrong with this man?
Of course, everyone only sees their own suffering, and he is suffering watching her suffer, so there’s your answer to that.
Speaking of “their own suffering,” I haven’t told anyone about my own trust issues that need to be mended. Oh, I’ve touched on it with Maxie, but not to any extreme degree. My trust issues are nothing like Flynn’s as his issues seem unfounded. I just have a slight problem believing people sometimes when they approach me for something. Christian lied to me when he was going to Green Valley to investigate what happened to me. I understand why he went and I could totally see myself feverishly trying to keep him from going had he told me the truth. My problem is that he was so convincing when he lied that it shattered my faith in my own gut instincts. With all of the fallout and the aftermath of the whole situation, I don’t believe that he would lie to me again, but now I’m having a hard time trusting my own judgment.
Then there’s George Sullivan, an authority figure that I looked up to and it turns out that his intentions were all self-centered. He was looking out for himself under the guise of looking out for me. I really thought that he had my back. I really thought that he was doing everything that he could to find out what happened to me. I can’t believe how naïve I was about the whole thing.
Let’s not forget dear old Mom and Stepdad. Yeah, what they have done to me is enough to crush my faith in humankind forever.
So I’m still working on mending my anger and dare I say it, my fear. I have the occasional nightmare about being drugged when I was kidnapped—that momentary feeling of helplessness right before you black out that comes with knowing that something bad is about to happen and you can’t do anything to stop it. Granted I don’t wake up screaming, but it does cause me some unease late in the midnight hour.
Whenever I am extremely upset, angry, or I feel completely out of control, Harris pops up in my dreams from time to time. I know that he’s a manifestation of my subconscious, and when he visits me, we have it out and I awake knowing that I need to fix whatever it is that is going on outside of the dream realm—you know, out here in the real world. One of his famous appearances was the catalyst for mending mine and Christian’s relationship after Flynngate. I wonder how he would feel knowing that his psycho ass is actually helping me find clarity in my time of confusion. He’s probably rolling over in his grave!
I also see David’s face at inopportune times—not during sex, thank God, but I might see him lying next to me every now and again. I don’t know what that’s about and it gives me the damn creeps!
I’m doing my best to function and deal with my anger and issues, but it’s a little difficult when you add in the fact that we are knee-deep in the Green Valley issue, Whitshit showed up the day after Christmas, and St. John keeps calling me begging for mercy for his criminal mistress. I really need some rest and relaxation and I just don’t know how I’m ever going to find it…or when!
Again, I am watching her sleep. Her father’s wedding in this evening and I have nearly mended all of the burned bridges with her friends… except for Maxine. I don’t know what it’s going to take to get back on track with that one. Every time I think about trying to let go of my grudge, I hear her ass telling me that she will make an enemy of me and take Butterfly out of my apartment with or without my cooperation. People that say things like that to me in my life end up ruined, fired, blackballed, broke, you name it. Here’s this woman basically threatening me in regards to one of the most precious things in my life and I can’t do anything about it. What’s more, I’m supposed to forgive her for it because she’s Butterfly’s best friend and therapist.
… Yeah, I’ll ponder that a while longer.
I have a meeting with Dr. Baker this morning before we get heavily into the setting up of the party/wedding. Call it a moment to get rid of the last of the old year’s baggage. I kiss Butterfly’s shoulder and rise out of bed. Her day will be busy enough when it’s time for her to wake up. I put on some gym clothes and head down to the fitness center. I’m on my fifth mile on the treadmill when last Wednesday’s events replay in my mind…
“Wake him up.” I growl at Jason. He has had two of the members of the security staff drag this piece of shit into the conference and out of the view of prying eyes. Maintenance is cleaning the trail of blood from my lobby and Jason stands over Whitmore with a bucket of ice water that soon found its way to Whitmore’s face, head, and suit. He bolts upright from the shock of the cold water, but he is clearly in pain as his jaw looks like it is nearly separated from his face.
“Whish wuth o’ you fuckuth thit me?” he mutters through his nearly immobile mouth. Well, not sure what’s going on with his face, but I don’t think his jaw is broken since he can talk.
“Yeah, that would be the little lady in the stilettos,” I respond. “She’s the one that left you unconscious and bleeding in my lobby.” His eyes grow big.
“Yure thying!” he accuses. This would be funny if I weren’t so pissed off.
“Look, Asshole. I don’t give a fuck why you’re here or what you believe. My woman told me to get you the fuck out of Seattle or she was going to kill you, and believe me when I tell you that she can.”
“Thee caint do sthit ta me!” Who the fuck does he think he’s talking to?
“May I, Boss?” Jason asks and I nod. He bends down and gets in Whitmore’s face. “She did this to you. If I or any of my guys had gotten hold of you, you wouldn’t be talking, you wouldn’t be moving, and I can’t even guarantee that you would be breathing. So I suggest that you shut the fuck up and listen to Mr. Grey and be careful what you say about Ms. Steele because any one of these gentlemen in this room would be very happy to finish what she started.”
Whitmore shrinks a bit and looks from face to face of the men in the room glaring at him. When his eyes come back to me, I stoop down to him and rest my arms on my knees.
“That little woman trains regularly with a 6th Dan in Krav Magna. She can take down any man in this room one-on-one so you were child’s play for her. If that’s not enough for you, she’s licensed to carry a concealed weapon. She has three of them—one of which is a 9mm glock. She carries one of them on her at all times since her unfortunate encounter with a psycho ex, so you’re lucky that you didn’t get shot—but stick around and you just might.” I say coolly. He doesn’t show any fear, but I can tell that he’s not stupid either.
“My futhar. He’th dead.” I rise to my feet.
“So?” I respond. His eyes grow large.
“Yu inthenthitif athhole! Ma futhar fuckin keeld himthelf! How cuthu be tho crull?” Now, I’m on fire.
“About as cruel as you were when you raped my girlfriend, you mean? When you and your friends beat her half to death, pissed on her, branded her, and killed her baby? You mean that cruel?” I’m screaming at him and Jason has to literally hold me back. “I saw the video, you chickenshit asswipe. I saw everything that you did to her!” His face turns completely white; even the black and blue parts go a little pale.
“Vitheo?” he asks in disbelief.
“Yeah, video. I can tell you about it now because there’s nothing that you can do. There’s no money that you can get your hands on, you can’t run or hide, and with the investigation into your father’s business dealings and you being so-called primed to take over the company, I’m certain that the authorities have their eye on you, too. No doubt they even know that you’re here right now—but Ana and I have the final nail in your coffin. We have the video.”
“Buth… how…?” he asks. I fold my arms. “Carthy?”
“No. Your little jilted bitch didn’t turn it over. It would have meant turning herself in, too. Her cousin Melanie turned it over. She sought out Ana to tell her the truth about what happened and she turned the video over to her as a last act of redemption. She’s dying of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma and she doesn’t have much time left, so she gave us the last piece of the puzzle that we needed to identify every last one of you fuckers, which is exactly what we did. We know where every last one of you are right now. We know who’s dead and who’s still alive. We know who changed their names, who tried to change their identities and we even know who’s living abroad. We know about your families, your sexual preferences, and when you take a piss! When we are done, we are going to bring every last one of you fuckers down.” He is horrified. He knows that we have him by the balls.
“Pleeth, leev uth alone. Leth uth grief my futhar…” Yet another one begging for mercy… and I feel nothing.
“Get your ass out of Seattle. You don’t have the right to ask us for shit, and you won’t find mercy here. Go get your face fixed and get out of our fucking state.”
“Yu caint do thith! Yu caint! I’ll tell efrything I know… to anybudy who will lithen! Yu caint do thisth to me… to ma family!”
“Your life is mine!” I bark at him. “No matter what you tell the press or what you do from this point on, you belong to me. If you carry your ass to the hospital, get your fucking jaw fixed, and quietly get the hell out of Seattle, we will let you live these next few weeks out in miserable peace. Bury your fucking father and spend time with your family while you can because your nightmares are just beginning. The only question is do you want them to start now, or do you want a reprieve for a while?” Glassy blue eyes stare back at me and I swear that he’s going to cry. Still, I feel nothing.
“Yu dith thisth to ma futhar… dint yu?” he asks coolly.
“No, he did this to himself. He had all the shading dealings, Ponzi schemes, and phantom holding companies. He’s the one who bribed a drunk and a half-ass mother to bring a poor tormented girl back to hell for fear that she would let the cat out of the bag for what you did to her. I would love to take credit for his downfall… and yours, but quite frankly, you all did this on your own.” I pause. I have nothing else to say to this piece of shit. “I’m having you followed. You have until 6:00 to get the fuck out of Seattle. If you’re not gone by then, I’m coming for you.” I turn to Jason. “Get him the fuck out of my building, and make sure he gets the fuck out of my city, too.”
Whitmore was out of Seattle that day by 6:00 as threatened. I don’t doubt that he went back to Green Valley to try to hunt down some of his partners in crime from that fateful night, so I make sure that security is a bit tighter until Butterfly decides when she wants to deliver the video to the Nevada authorities. I know that we are planning a trip sometime just after the New Year so that she can finally tell her story and give them the damning evidence that they need. We just haven’t etched it in stone yet.
I’m broken from my thoughts by the sound of the door opening. In walks this hot little woman in a sports bra and a pair of shorts so small that I can easily see her ass. Damn! How do they expect men to work out in the same room with women dressed like that? I nearly fall off the damn treadmill and now I’m fighting to prevent a massive fucking boner.
“You should have woke me up,” Butterfly says as she dons a pair of gloves. “I have a feeling I’m going to have a rough day ahead of me.”
“How so?” I ask.
“Well, so far everybody is doing what they are supposed to be doing, but I can guarantee you that some fucker is going to piss me off today, so just get ready for it.” She steps over to the bag and starts to give it a serious working over—and it’s turning me on so much I can hardly think. I stop the treadmill for a moment and send a text to Jason, then I stand back and watch her reign blows on this bag like the pro that she is. A few minutes later, Jason sticks his head in the door. I nod and he leaves, closing the door behind him. I put on a pair of wrestling gloves and a helmet and get on the mat, attracting Butterfly’s attention.
“Come on,” I beckon her. She stills the bag.
“You’re kidding, right?” she asks, incredulously.
“You said you can take anybody down. Let’s see what you got,” I taunt.
“In a fight, Christian, not wrestling,” she protests.
“Are you afraid? Come on, I won’t hurt you.” I knew that would do it. She snatches off the gloves and changes into wrestling gloves.
“You are such a fucking child sometimes,” she spit as she walks over to the mat, puts on a helmet, and takes her stance. “Rules?”
“No rules,” I say. I’ve got plans for you.
“You’ll want rules with me,” she warns. Oh, we’re feeling confident!
“Fine. Falls count anywhere. No unnecessary roughness or unsportsmanlike conduct; no grabbing clothes or the mat to control the opponent. Takedowns and reversals count for two points—escape counts for one. Three rounds to 10 points or pin—best two out of three is the winner.” She nods.
“Okay, so basically, no rules.” She takes her stance. I shake my head and take my stance as well. Being the bigger of the two of us, I give her the benefit of the doubt and go on the offensive. I aim straight for her center of gravity and of course, she was expecting that. She moves her little feet out of the way so fast that I almost tumble off the mat when I lunge for her. I turn around to look at her, shock most likely lacing my expression.
“Don’t be predictable, Grey,” she says, now back in stance and waiting for my next move. Okay, you got it, Madame Butterfly. I quickly grab one of her legs and snatch it out from under her. She falls flat on the mat on her back with an “umph” and I stand next to her looking down at her stunned face.
“That’s two for me,” I say offering her my hand to help her up. She begrudgingly takes my hand and gets to her feet. She stretches her arms a bit and I know that hit knocked the wind out of her. She is back in position and the melee starts again. I manage to get her on her back again, not so easily this time, and declare two more points. She didn’t accept my proffered hand this time. She does some kind of windmill-type kick that sweeps my feet and I am on the ground on my back! What the fuck?
“That’s two,” she says springing to her feet.
“Wrestling, Ana, not kick-boxing,” I protest. She shrugs.
“You didn’t say that I couldn’t kick,” she defends flatly. Fine. Have it your way.
I get back into stance and we are both waiting for the other to make a move. The standoff lasts for about a minute when Butterfly stands up to ask what the hell I planned to do. Before the words are completely out of her mouth, I have her around the waist again, taking her down once more. Almost like she anticipated the move, she curls her body and bends her legs to avoid going flat on the mat. I attempt to crawl over her, but I must admit that I have never had an opponent so small. She turns underneath me like a wire—like I wasn’t even there. She’s on her stomach attempting to get to her knees and I can’t help it. I wrap my arms around her and clasp my hands firmly on her ample breasts.
“Get your fucking hands off my tits!” she barks as she bends my wrist back to break my hold.
“Fuck!” I yelp at the pain and release, but not before pushing the back of her head down towards to the mat to prevent her from escaping the hold.
… Or so I thought.
Somehow, she curls up under me and scrambles out of the hold. Before I know it, she’s standing on her side of the mat, a bit out of breath and glaring at me.
“That’s one for me. Come on, Grey.” Shit! She’s better than I thought! I get to my feet and prepare to engage again. We are hitting each other’s open hands whenever one tries to reach for the other. I finally grab her in a bear hug around her arms and she is struggling feverishly to get away from me. She is working up a sweat in her futile attempt to escape and the more her body writhes against me, the more turned on I get.
“You are so sexy when you’re mad,” I taunt.
“Fuck you!” she hisses, still struggling.
“Promise?” I goad.
“Asshole!” she spits, nearly wiggling out of my grasp.
“Wrong angle!” I shoot back grasping her around the waist and pushing her against the wall. She’s beating me on my shoulders trying to find a weak spot anywhere, but the more she fights, the more I want her. She wraps her legs around my waist and begins to squeeze. The move isn’t sensual, it’s painful—but it still spurs my libido for some reason.
“Stop it!” I warn pinning her arms to her body again, and in her anger, she apparently can’t feel my dick throbbing angrily and beating a merciless tattoo between our bodies.
“Or what?” she growls threatening, squeezing her legs tighter around me. Shit, that hurts! So much for unsportsmanlike conduct.
Faster than she can protest, I release her arms, slide her shorts and panties to the side, free Greystone and thrust hard into her. She gasps and releases a surprised wail as I fill her instantly. She wasn’t expecting it, but the moment I am inside of her, I feel her wetness begin to release and slide down my dick. I hold her thighs and thrust violently inside of her. Sensing my little game, she starts to push against my shoulders hard, trying to dislodge herself.
“Stop!” she barks, pushing hard against me and it’s difficult to keep her in place because she is so strong. I thrust hard again.
“Why?” I growl grinding my hips into her. She gasps again and stifles a groan.
“Because I said so!” she snaps. “You didn’t ask, now stop!” She digs her nails into my shoulders as a defensive distraction.
“Damn it!” I curse and thrust into her again. “It’s mine! I can have it when I want it!” Her eyes go large and I swear she gets wetter at that statement.
“Get… off of me!” she commands, still pushing against me, but her walls are starting to quiver.
“No!” I pin her arms against the wall on either side of her head and continue to thrust into her.
“Ah!” she cries out loudly and closes her eyes. I move lightening fast releasing her arms and removing her helmet, then mine. She grabs my biceps and squeezes hard. I go to kiss her and she sinks her teeth into my bottom lip, actually breaking the skin inside.
“Ow!” I cry and thrust violently into her again, forcing her to let go. She holds her head back and her fingers curl into my arm. I lick the sweat from her neck, jaw, and breast as I continue to pound into her. She is panting in pleasure, but these claws in my arms tell me that she still refuses to give in. I thrust into her over and over again and she finally moves her legs to my hips.
She begins that familiar ride that I have grown accustomed to, matching my strokes and eventually taking over as I still my hips, thrusting only as she drops down on my erection. I‘m not coming yet. I have built myself up into needing the kind of release that would set this building ablaze—so I will be fucking you until her eyes pops out of your head, Ms. Steele… hard!
She is the only woman who has ever fucked me like this, and I can’t get enough of it. Her legs are wrapped around me and her nails are digging into my arms as she grinds hard against my hips, her beautiful wet pussy matching Greystone’s short thrusts blow for blow. Her head is back and she is actually grunting with each bounce on my dick. There is no control in her movements and her core is actually getting warmer as the friction causes more heat to form between us. This is absolutely animal and I feel primal as I grasp her hips and ass and caress them roughly, listening to the wet, sloshing sounds our combined sexes make as we fuck.
Besides the grunting, neither of us says a word. The heat in her core and violent tightening signals her pending release and soon, she is crying out and stiffening against me—the same animal sounds she was making during her ride. I step back from the wall, grab her ass with one hand and her hair with the other. Pulling back violently on her hair, I thrust hard and wild into her, pulling her relentlessly into my body and down onto my dick, chasing my own release and sending her into another orgasm. When she grips me this time I detonate inside her, shooting off that explosive firecracker release that I was expecting and growling like an angry bear and my seed assaults her insides. She’s panting and shivering against me, sweat pouring from her body, all sexy and savage in her orgasmic haze. I assault her lips with a brutal kiss and she moans into my mouth. I wiggle a bit, my length still inside her, both of us enjoying the aftershocks of our jungle-fuck.
I put my forehead against her and calm my breathing. I feel the wetness of her fingertips against my arms. I don’t know if it’s sweat or more battle scars. When we both appear to have caught our breath, I open my eyes.
“Ready?” I ask. She nods. We both protest as I slide my softening member out of her and set her on the floor. She steadies herself then straightens her clothes still breathing a bit heavily. She goes over to the towel rack and grabs a towel to dry her sweat while I take healthy swallows of water. Neither of us says anything to the other while we leave the fitness center and go back to the penthouse to prepare for the rest of the day.
What the fuck was that!? I’m all a-flutter as I allow the hot water to stream over my body, thinking about the wild, hot sex Christian and I just had in the fitness room. Anybody could have walked in and seen us! Maybe somebody did, I don’t even know! I washed blood from under my nails, so I know that I scratched him again, but he pissed me off with that wrestling shit! He knows I can’t match a man in strength that way. I never even trained for that, not even just for fitness! My whole plan in a fight has been to never hit the floor, and if you do, get up as quickly as possible. The whole idea of wrestling and to get to the floor! That’s the opposite of everything I learned.
Then again, he knew that. Asshole.
I have other things to think of today beside my Neanderthal boyfriend.
The caterer’s need access to the party space by noon. The cake will be delivered at five. The decorators will be there starting at two. The bridal party will meet here at six to decompress the bride and then we have the spa at our disposal for the evening thanks to the powerful man in the penthouse suite, Christian Grey. At first, he suggested that we take a spa day at Miana’s which actually would have been a good idea, but we would have had to come back here to get dressed anyway, so we may as well have had the spa-day here. The dresses have already been delivered. The DJ will be here at seven to set up and get started for the party started at eight. Judge Stervoll from Mandy’s job will be officiating the wedding slated to start promptly at nine so that the good judge will still have time to get home and spend New Years Eve with her husband. The flowers have been delivered and as long as nobody fucks up, everything should go as planned.
Christian, Daddy, Carrick, Elliot, Ethan, and Brian—daddy’s best man and the guy who got Christian’s background information for me—will be at the Fairmont getting ready and they will be back here at eight to greet guests. Mia will be my “eyes on the decorator” to make sure they don’t try to sneak in any of that tacky crap that we told them we didn’t want, and Grace and Gail will keep an eye on the caterers for me before and after they both join us for the spa-day. I’m so busy running through my day that I forget that I am in the shower until I start to prune up. I turn off the water and dry my hair, throw on some yoga pants, an oversized sweatshirt and some sneakers and go down to the Club to see how things are progressing.
The caterers have already started preparing the dishes that take the longest and someone from the decorator’s is taking some last minute measurements. Things have already started moving along. It’s really happening. My daddy is getting married.
So far the day has moved along fairly seamlessly. Mandy is as nervous as any bride would be, but we were able to get her into the spa, massaged, and relaxed before too long. She wanted a simple ceremony and a simple dress—one that was flirty but wouldn’t “enhance” her tiny baby bump, so Kiko strayed from his couture norm for us and made her a simple flowy strapless dress with a sequined waist and sweetheart neckline—short in the front and long in the back. It’s good for a simple wedding and a New Years Eve party thereafter. Her maid of honor is wearing a simple silver flowy A-line empire dress, also strapless. While most of us are wearing our hair in up-dos, Mandy’s hair is cascading down her back in large, beautiful spiral curls and is decked with simple flowers. She’s wearing a pair of silver peep-toe high-heeled strappy sandals to complete the ensemble.
She is right in the middle of getting her makeup done while I, her maid of honor, and two of her friends are drinking Mimosas when a pretty girl comes breezing into the spa. She is almost Mandy’s twin and it’s clear to see that this is her sister, Lexia. Showtime…
“Mandy!” Lexia says, commanding the room upon her entrance. She breezes in and kisses Amanda on the cheek, interrupting the work of the makeup artist. She is wearing a Peter Pilotto original mirage short-sleeved/long-sleeved dress with a high neck and geometry cutouts across the chest and shoulders. The dress has blue, white, black, and gray patterns over the front and back with black side panels and sleeves. It is knee-length with modest splits above both knees. My knowledge of Peter Pilotto says that this dress ran her about $1,500—maybe more since it is part of the 2012 autumn/winter collection and most likely just came off the runway. Part of me wants to ask her how I can be like the cool kids and get that dress! The other part of me wants to ask her why she would come to a wedding trying to outdress the bride. I put both of those bitches on that back burner as Mandy seems unfazed by it, which is most important tonight.
“Mom is so miffed with you,” Lexia says, still blocking the make-up artist’s progress. “She’s never going to forgive you for this one.”
“Well, I gave Mom the opportunity to come, but she didn’t want to travel on such short notice. What was I supposed to do? Now step aside, you’re blocking my makeup,” Mandy scolds.
“Blocking your make-up?” Lexia looks around and eyes the woman with the makeup smock as if this were her first time seeing her. “Oh!” she says, matter-of-factly, taking a seat nearby and still talking to Mandy. “How could you have a wedding without your mother? You know she’s been waiting forever for this day!” She stresses the word “forever” as if Mandy is the last single woman on earth. You’re being too sensitive, Steele. If Mandy’s okay, why are you acting like this is affecting you personally?
Sure enough, Mandy waves her off and says, “I was willing to send her a ticket. She didn’t want to come. You know how Mom is when she gets a bug up her butt,” Mandy responds. Lexia sighs dramatically then looks over at Sheila.
“Sheila,” Lexia says, her voice short and clipped.
“Lexia,” Sheila replies, just as curtly. Whoa! It appears that Mandy’s best friend and her sister have some unpleasant history. I cross my legs and fold my arms as the floor show appears to unfold.
“Nice dress,” Lexia says, and it is clearly a shot at Sheila’s MOA dress.
“Thanks,” Sheila replies. “Ana and Mandy picked it out.”
“Ana?” Lexia sneers. “Who’s Ana?” Oh, good God.
“That would be me,” I say, kindly. When she turns around, I wave. She eyes me speculatively then turns back without a word.
“Lexi, you’re being a bitch,” Mandy says, impassively and gestures for me to come over to her. Ouch! I stifle my laugh as I pass a gape-mouthed Lexia and go to Mandy’s side just as her makeup is completed. She takes my arm and smiles. “I know you haven’t all gotten a chance to properly meet her, but this is Ana…”
“Your wedding planner?” Lexia spits before Mandy has a chance to finish. Sheila sighs and shakes her head.
“You could say that,” Mandy says, and as I have learned, Mandy has no malice towards anyone—even people who are clearly being malicious towards her. “Ana and her boyfriend are hosting my wedding tonight. Ana is Ray’s daughter.” Those who didn’t know who I was gasped at the introduction and came over shaking my hand and introducing themselves.
“You’re marrying a man with an adult daughter?” Lexia says as the greetings die down, still not bothering to greet me.
“Yes, I am, Lexi,” Mandy shoots, her ire getting heavier. “Not all of us can marry teenagers. By the way, how is Adam?” I can only assume that Adam is Lexia’s husband. This is the only snide remark Mandy has made all night. I’m beginning to have flashbacks of the Daisy Decorator situation.
“Well! That was unnecessary! I was just shocked that you are going to have stepdaughter so close to your own age!” she shoots. That’s it. I look over at Mandy begging for her permission and merciful heavens, she nods. I turn and glare at her sister.
“Lexia,” I begin, my voice firm, “you have one more time to say something to Amanda on her wedding day that I feel is inappropriate and I will put you out!” The room falls deathly quiet as Lexia gasps at me.
“You can’t kick me out of my sister’s wedding!” she exclaims.
“Oh, yes I can! Her and my father’s wedding is being held at my place of residence, so I can put you out any time I please if you can’t behave yourself!” She must have missed the part where Mandy told her that I was hosting her wedding. The surprise only registers for a moment before Lexia retorts, “You and what army?”
I think the entire room, sighed in dismay. I just shake my head. I open the door and gesture to Hamilton, one of the lady guards that Christian hired for tonight’s festivities.
“Ms. Hamilton, this is Lexia. I’m sure that you can tell from the resemblance that this is Miss Herring’s sister. I’m going to add to your duties tonight and I apologize in advance. Lexia is in need of additionalattention tonight,” I say, pinpointing the exact reason for her behavior. “So I’m going to need you to keep an eye on her. If she causes any problems or does anything inappropriate, put. Her. Out.” I stress the “t” on the last word while looking Lexia in her eye. I’m not going to argue or fight with this woman. Family or not, she won’t ruin this night. Her eyes narrow at me.
“Yes Ma’am,” Hamilton says in a strong voice that lets everyone in the room know that it won’t do to cross her.
“Thank you, now would you please escort her to the party?” I add. That’s Lexia’s cue to leave or be removed. Hamilton comes into the room and stands near enough to Lexia so that she knows it is time for her to leave. Hamilton is not as tall as the guards Christian normally hires, but she stands at a commanding enough 5’11” and you really wouldn’t want to test her. The entire room is quiet as we all await Lexia’s decision. She looks to Mandy for assistance or intervention and, seeing that she won’t get any, leaves the spa with Hamilton following close behind.
When she leaves the room and the doors close behind her, the room erupts in applause and cheers. I’m shocked by the reaction, but Amanda joins in the excitement.
“She is such a bitch!” Mandy’s friend, Roberta chimes in.
“Oh my God, I know, right?” Mandy laughs. “She’s my sister, but good grief!”
“Way to go, Ana!” Sheila exclaims. “I don’t think she knows what to do with herself right now! She’s always been a bully.” Oh good God, really?
“You’re kidding!” I say incredulously.
“Oh, yes,” Mandy’s coworker Thelma says. “She loves that ‘you and what army’ line.” Oh, if she only knew how much I hate that line. I have instant flashbacks of the first time I kicked She-Thing out of Christian’s apartment.
“Well, we’re not having any of that tonight, because in less than an hour, I’m going to have a new stepmom…” I turn to face Mandy, “… and nobody fucks with my stepmom.” Mandy smiles while fighting back fresh tears and embraces me warmly.
When I go out to check the party and the arrival of guests, I see that things are going along very well. I am happy to see that most of the guests have arrived and are enjoying a light cocktail hour in the wine cave before the wedding begins. Judge Stervoll is here and we are only waiting for one or two of Mandy’s invited guests. While the photographer is taking candid shots, Lexia has made her way straight to the group of handsomely dressed gentlemen. I guess one of them failed to tell her that Daddy is actually the groom. Between Christian and Daddy, she is laughing like she is hearing the funniest things that she has ever heard in her life. Standing with them is Brian—my own private eye and Daddy’s best man—and Gary and Phil, who have fallen back into the comfortable conversation with “Chris” that they used to have in F&L, thank God. Sadly, Maxie still looks like the odd man—or woman, I should say—out while she wanders the room, occasionally talking to Val and Grace and tasting the finger foods. I have to play hostess so I won’t be able to commit too much one-on-one time to her, but I’ll make sure that she doesn’t feel left out. That’s the last thing that I want. I’m still examining the remaining guests in the room when I hear a throat clearing behind me.
“Um, Ms. Steele? Ana?” I turn around to see Barney is standing there. Damn—he cleans up well! I smile widely at him.
“Barney,” I say, warmly while I take his hand. “Thank you for coming. I’m so glad you could make it. Have you had a drink yet?”
“No. I’m not much of a drinker, but the hors d’oeuvres are delicious. Did you plan this yourself?”
“I did. It wasn’t easy, especially when people didn’t want to do what I asked, but as you can see, it worked out okay.” I try to keep to the small talk, but I am well aware of what this man has done for me. I know that it was because he works for Christian that he enhanced the video of my kidnapping, thereby enabling Christian and the police to identify David and Harris which ultimately lead to my rescue. I could be a captive wife somewhere right now if it weren’t for him. However, Christian informed me that he had already begun the separation of the suspects on that video of the attack before even being given instructions; how he recognized me first as the victim and then spent several hours—most of his own time—scanning pictures from the Green Valley yearbook and entering information to be able to identify the people who attacked me. My heart swells at the thought and before I know it, I embrace him warmly. He is very stiff and only slightly returns my hug.
“Thank you, Barney. Thank you for everything that you’ve done,” I say in his ear. When I pull back from him, he is extremely nervous and shy.
“Um… You’re welcome… Ana,” he responds. “It was really nothing.”
“How could you say that?” I gasp. “You helped to figure out who had kidnapped me and then you identified those assholes on that video.” I gesture for Chuck to come to me and he reaches into his jacket and pulls out an envelope that he had been holding for me. “I don’t know what I can ever do to thank you for what you’ve done for me without even knowing me, but I am so, so happy that you could be here to celebrate with us and I hope you accept this small token of my appreciation.” Barney opens the envelope that I hand him and gasps loudly.
“Alicia Keys!” He almost sounds like he’s fangirling. “How did you know?”
“A little birdie told me,” I respond with a smile. “There are backstage passes in there, too, so you take someone with you that deserves some fun, okay?” The shyness leaves his face and he smiles a full-on grin.
“Thank you, Ana! Thank you so much!” He’s grasping those tickets like they are gold. At that moment, a nice-looking ginger comes up behind him. “Oh, Ashley, this is Ana, my boss’s girlfriend. Ana, this is Ashley, my girlfriend.”
“I know who you are!” she gasps. “AnaChris, right?” Oh, good Lord, not tonight… not at Daddy’s wedding.
“Yeah,” I answer cautiously.
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” she says, coolly waving off the phrase. “I’m not some psycho-stalker person, I just keep up with the gossip, that’s all.” Well, that’s a relief. I still think I’m going to have security keep an eye on her, though.
“Well, I want you two to have a good time. I have to go and get this shindig on the road.” I say, squeezing both of their hands. They smile fondly at me and I head off towards the men.
I can almost feel the crackle in the air as I walk towards this group. Brian is one of Daddy’s closest friends since they were in the service together, but he has had a thing for me for about the last four years. Christian is a great judge of character and I can already see that he has observed Brian’s feelings for me. It hasn’t gotten past me that Brian has been staring at me every since I came into the wine cave, and I am certain that it hasn’t gotten past Christian even though he appears to be fighting off Lexia’s need to have the attention of every man in the room. In addition to that, Daddy and Christian are getting tired of Lexia who hasn’t figured out that she picked the wrongesttwo people in the room to attempt to monopolize their attention. Time to rescue my men.
I walk over to Daddy and kiss him on the cheek. “You ready, Daddy?” I say, looking adoringly into his eyes.
“Oh, yes, quite ready,” Daddy says, straightening his silver tie and then the jacket of his black Paul Stuart suit.
“Daddy!?” Lexia gasps. “This is your father?” I glare at her, then turn to Daddy.
“You didn’t introduce yourself, Daddy?” I say, surprised.
“Well, it’s kind of hard. She never stopped talking,” he replied. Several people in the area nearly spit food and spirits while trying to suppress their laughter. I look over at Lexia and shake my head. She is definitely going to be a problem tonight.
“Well, allow me,” I said, stepping into the middle of the group of men. “This, as you have discovered, is my father Raymond Steele. The handsome gentleman to his left is his best man, Brian Cholometes.” I can feel Christian tensing up just a few feet away. I thought he was going to body-check Barney when I hugged him, and now I’ve called Brian a handsome gentleman. I skip over Christian in the introductions; hopefully he will see that I am saving him for last. “This dusty-blond cutie is Allen Forsythe, my best friend and attorney, and that lovely bronze god behind him is his boyfriend, James Flemings. These two handsome devils are Philip Guest and Garrett Pope—also two of my closest friends.” I walk over to Christian. “And this copper-haired hottie…” I keep my eyes locked on his and now he sees my game. His eyes darken and a smirk plays with the corner of his lips, “… is Christian Trevelyan Grey, my boyfriend.”
Another gasp escapes Lexia’s mouth. I don’t think she knows what to say. After gazing at Christian for quite some time, I look up and down the row of handsome suit-clad gentlemen. There’s nothing like a well-dressed man, and I’m surrounded by them right now. “Did I forget anyone?” Seeing that I didn’t, I say, “Everyone, this is Amanda’s sister, Lexia… I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your last name.”
“Herring,” she says, like it should have been obvious. Oh, Bitch, you don’t want to start with me.
“Oh, I apologize,” I say, mocking sincerity. “I thought I heard Mandy say that your husband’s name was Adam, so I assumed that you no longer shared the same last name,” I shoot back at her. She glares at me.
“I go by my maiden name.” She seems to be getting angry. I shrug.
“Well, hopefully you will overlook my faux pas since we weren’t actually properly introduced.” I turn back to Christian while I say, “This is Lexia Herring, everyone.” I say it as an afterthought, waving my hand at her and focusing on Christian. “Barney has the cutest girlfriend,” I say to Christian, conspicuously ignoring Lexia.
“Yes, I know,” he says softly, “I saw you hug him earlier.” His voice has the slightest bit of ice in it.
“It was just to thank him for all that he has done,” I defend.
“It’s his job. He was supposed to do it,” Christian says matter-of-factly.
“Well, it was still a kind thing to do and he didn’t even know me. That’s why I invited him.”
“He knew me.” He’s not going to let this go. I slap his arm.
“Quit being a spoilsport!” I chastise him. “You know as well as I do that man went above and beyond the call of duty for me—twice in fact—so cut it out.” I stare at him for a moment and his lip twitches before he mockingly mutters, “Yes, Mistress.”
My eyes narrow as I glare at him and he actually shrinks, but only infinitesimally so that I could barely see it. He knows that I am going to make him pay for that.
“Get your ass over here so that I can introduce you to Brian. I’ve seen the glares all night, so let’s get this over and done.” I take his hand and drag a reluctant Christian over to my admirer and on-call private eye. “I don’t know if you’ve met yet, but this is Brian. He’s the one who gave me information about you when you were snooping around in my past. Brian, of course you know this is Christian.”
“Christian,” Brian extends his hand to Christian and I know that he wants to say “Call me Grey.”
“Brian,” Christian says with no warmth in his voice, taking Brian’s proffered hand. They glare at each other and don’t release hands. I immediately know that they are testing grips. I roll my eyes.
“Boys…” I warn. They seem to come back to themselves and release hands. I turn around and notice that Lexie has moved on to the hors d’oeuvres, but Daddy is watching this exchange slightly bemused.
“So you’re the one who discovered that I was looking into Anastasia’s past—not an easy thing to do with the team that I have employed.” Christian says a little too casually.
“It wasn’t so difficult,” Brian retorted. “When you frightened her, she called on me. All I had to do was follow the breadcrumbs that your team left all over the place.” Christian smirks a bit at Brian’s shot.
“Well, I’ll have to thank them for those breadcrumbs as that little revelation led her right to me. In fact, I think the day that she discovered that I was the one that was looking was the day that we shared our first kiss.” Christian smiles that full, 32-teeth, Checkmate smile. Daddy looks from Christian to Brian and I can’t believe that he is just now putting this together.
“Does someone want to tell me what’s going on here?” Daddy asks. I won’t out his best man on his wedding day and I can only hope that Christian won’t either.
“Nothing that I know of,” Christian said. “It just appeared to me that he was questioning the work of my team and I had to defend them. They couldn’t have done too badly considering that not only did I get the information that I wanted but—in the end—I even got the girl.” Christian slid his arm around my waist and pulled me very close to him, kissing my hair. I just shake my head and roll my eyes. The Neanderthal strikes again.
Okay, enough twisting the knife, Grey.
“Alright, let’s start getting this show on the road. We are nearing 9:00 and I know that Amanda is only too anxious to see her love, so let’s get situated.” I say. This statement immediately softens Daddy’s mood, eliciting a huge smile from him. It’s time to move the guests from the wine cave into the club and get the festivities started.
A/N: See? No “cliffy” this time. So, the wedding is next and I hope you will like it. What do you think is Lexia’s major malfunction? Is she jealous or just a regular bitch? Will she do something to try to ruin her sister’s wedding or will she behave herself? In Book I, I made a a brief reference to Brian Cholometes (pronounced Coh – la – meh – teez) and his feelings for Ana. He’s clearly not taking down to Christian. What do you think – if anything – is going to come from that exchange?
Pictures of places, cars, fashion, etc can be found at http://www.pinterest.com/ladeeceo/mending-dr-steele/
You can join my mailing list on the “Contact Me” page. Just indicate in the message that you would like to join the mailing list.
Feel free to review—it is greatly appreciated.
Love and handcuffs!