This is a work of creativity. As such, you may see words, concepts, scenes, actions, behaviors, pictures, implements, and people that may or may not be socially acceptable and/or offensive. If you are sensitive to adverse and alternative subject matter of any kind, please do not proceed, because I guarantee you’ll find it here. You have been warned. Read at your own risk.
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. If something that I say displeases you, please, just leave. If you don’t like this story or me, please don’t spoil this experience for everyone. Just go away. For the rest of you, the saga continues…
Chapter 48—Putting Everything In Its Place
I made good on my promise to fuck Butterfly last night. And fuck her, I did… well! She was so responsive, she gave her body to me in every way. The way that she touched me and melded with me last night showed me that although love was missing from my Dom/sub relationships, what I had truly been missing all this time was intimacy. The way that she touched my face and caressed my skin, the way that she breathed my name and wrapped herself around me—not just physically but emotionally as well… it was amazing! We looked into each other’s soul. We loved each other for hours… and I never wanted it to end.
Of course, we slept like dead men through the rest of the night. I awake to find my dear delicate, beautiful Butterfly out cold with the bruised side of her face buried deep in the pillow. Oh, well, at least it got the benefit of the tea last night. Her lips are only just slightly puffy now. Unfortunately, black eyes just have to run their course, but the terrible swelling has reduced to just a small mound under one eye. The “Harris hand prints” are gone (fucker) and even her wrists look better today. I brush her hair out of her face and kiss her gently on the cheek. She smiles in her sleep.
“I love you, Christian…” she murmurs without waking, and my heart does a cartwheel. Thank God she’s not dreaming about psychopathic ex-boyfriends or vicious mobs of teenagers.
“I love you, too, Butterfly,” I whisper before kissing her again. I need to head to the study and put some things in motion. I quietly get out of bed and put on a pair of sweatpants before going to my study.
I fire up the computer and open my email. I’m scrolling through emails when one in particular catches my eye. I almost don’t read it, but the curiosity is killing me.
To: Christian Grey
Re: Television Appearances?
Date: Thursday, July 26, 2012, 05:31
From: Elena Lincoln
So, I see that little Ms. Perfect has a past that has disrupted your life. Maybe now you’ll wake up and see that she’s not the one for you after all. She’s bringing chaos into your once-controlled surroundings. No doubt it’s affecting your work and undoing everything that I’ve taught you. I know that you’re most likely pulling your lovely hair out right now with the confusion that this woman has unleashed upon you. I understand, Darling. I’m the only one who has completely understood everything about you, and I’ll be here to put the pieces back together when you finally realize that she’s not the one for you—that she’ll destroy everything that you hold dear because she’ll destroy everything that you are. I’ll help you rebuild into the god that you were always meant to be.
I can give you everything that she can and more, Christian. You know that. You know that we’ve always been so good together, you and me. We can have that again. There’s nothing to stop us but that meddling little twit. Just think about it Christian. I forgive you for pulling your backing from Haviland Mutual. I know that you only did it with prompting from that little bitch. I had to sell one of the salons to meet the obligation, but the new owner has agreed to let me lease the space. It’s considerably more than the loan payment, but I’ve learned my lesson, Darling. I’ve taught you control and you’ve exercised it on me. I’m very proud of you and I find that quite appealing and very sexy. I know you too well, Christian, you know that. Come back to me now, and all is forgiven. We can start all over—like the good old days when I was your sub… and you were mine. You know you miss it as much as I do. Come back to me, Christian. I’m waiting for you.
Elena Lincoln, Owner and Operator, Esclava Salons Washington
What has this Pedophile batty bitch been smoking!? I have my people watching her seduce a minor—although I haven’t gotten anything new in the last week—and she thinks that I even slightly want to deal with her at all? Much less, on a romantic level? She is far, far beyond delusional and after what just happened with David, I’m about to increase surveillance on her bat-shit ass.
To: Elena Lincoln
Re: Delusional Bleached Blondes
Date: Thursday, July 26, 2012, 08:17
From: Christian Grey
I think the title says it all. If you think I would want you over the goddess that sleeps with me every night in our bed, you’re not only sadly mistaken but clearly insane. If I had any sense whatsoever, I would’ve ended our business relationship instead of signing that new contract with you. Do you not clearly understand that I truly want nothing whatsoever to do with you? Just in case you don’t understand, let me make it clear. Do not contact me again in this manner or any other manner without legal representation present or I’ll be calling Sound Community to pull my backing from that bank as well. You only have four loans remaining, Mrs. Lincoln. I wouldn’t press my luck if I were you.
Christian Grey, CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I press “send” and continue reading my emails. I do want to know why we haven’t gotten any more intel on her with young Mr. Hemstead. I need to speak to Welch.
“Sir,” Welch answers.
“Welch, what’s the word on our latest intel on Mrs. Lincoln?” I ask.
“Well, she hasn’t had little Hemstead over at her place for the last several days. We were getting usable evidence against her the first week and then the second week, everything was pretty PG at best. This week, she hasn’t seen the boy at all. We may have to try to build something based on what we already have. I would say that we have some pretty good evidence as it is.” I remember that her activities with this one seemed to coincide with events in my life.
“You say she was grooming him pretty regularly the first week. Are you referring to the week of the 8th—when we first discovered her activities with Mr. Hemstead?” I ask, checking my intel. After a pause,
“Yes, sir. That’s correct,” Welch confirms.
“And then the week of the 15th, her activities with the young man waned, you say,” I observe again. After a second pause, he replies,
“Yes, sir, that’s correct.”
“And now over the last several days, she hasn’t encountered him at all,” I point out.
“Do you see a pattern here, Welch?” I ask. I, first of all, see a pattern that he wouldn’t see—the pattern of ending a contract with a sub. You either wean yourself off the sub, or you cut them off quickly. I always opted for the quick route. The Pedophile was always one for delayed agony.
“I’m sorry, sir. I know that I probably should, but I don’t,” he responds.
“Well, that could be because I have a piece of information that you don’t have. From the 8th to the 13th I’d say, she was very into Mr. Hemstead,” I point out again.
“The 14th, sir,” he corrects.
“I was hospitalized late on the 13th. Although it wasn’t mentioned in the media, those who needed to know knew about it. So, from the 14th until—I bet—the 22nd, she had a PG relationship with this kid.”
“Yes, sir, that’s right,” Welch says, surprised. “And the 22nd was the day that you went public with your relationship with Ms. Steele.”
“Exactly. Now, she hasn’t seen the kid all week. What has the kid been doing?” I ask.
“Going to summer school, coming home. This was his last week of summer classes. He’s been mostly at his parents’ home.”
He’s acting like a brokenhearted teenager. I need to ask Carrick if he has spoken to the Hemstead’s about young Shane.
“Someone will be over tonight. It most likely won’t be Hemstead… she’ll need a seasoned sub this evening.” There’s a pause. “Hemstead was being released for me. I rejected her today. Place more surveillance on her. Whoever the mole is, they were feeding information to her as well. Someone is trying to destroy me from the inside. I want to know who the fucker is.” I pay these people enough—they should be able to find this out for me.
“Any new news on our Green Valley suspects?” I ask.
“Two deceased. I have sent you preliminary intel on the others as requested.”
“I’m sending you additional names that Ms. Steele gave me last night,” I add.
“Ms. Steele?” he asks, surprised. “She’s on board now?”
“With a vengeance. This ordeal with David has changed her whole outlook. I need as much information as you can get me on his current situation—who he’s bunking with, when he’s moved…”
“I’ll do what I can, but I think Jason is your man for that one,” he informs me.
“Oh! That reminds me. Ms. Steele and I are going to Anguilla for a while. We’ll be leaving tomorrow, and we’ll be gone for at least four days, maybe more. I plan to take Taylor, Davenport, and Mrs. Jones with me. I don’t want the penthouse left empty, so make sure that we have security set up to stay in the guest quarters and monitor around the clock. There will be some work being done in one of the bedrooms, so make sure your people are on their toes.”
“Will do. I’ve also sent over the background information on Amanda Hearns that you requested, sir.”
“Anything of particular interest?” I ask.
“Absolutely nothing, sir. Seattle girl next door, for the most part. Lived her whole life here, worked here, went to school here… besides a traffic ticket in college, absolutely nothing adverse on her record whatsoever.” I hope Butterfly will be pleased to hear that. Ray seems pretty stricken with this woman.
“Very good. I’ll be in touch.” I say before ending the call. I send a text to Taylor, who should be awake and roaming by now to get his ass out from under Mrs. Jones and get to my study. I immediately book the villa in Anguilla through August 4th just in case Butterfly wants to stay the whole week. Taylor steps into my office in a dress shirt and slacks, dressed for a casual workday from home and fresh as a daisy.
“As you can see,” he says, gesturing to his crisp attire, “I clearly was not under Mrs. Jones.” Whatever. I guess not everyone can fuck a woman senseless then be crisp enough to run a boardroom three minutes later. It’s a gift.
“We’re going to Anguilla for a while. I think Butterfly needs to decompress. Get the jet ready as well as ground transportation on Anguilla. We’ll also need a charter from St. Maarten. I’d like to leave as soon as we possibly can after midnight tonight. Any time that the pilot will be available is fine. Ms. Acton should have Butterfly’s wardrobe ready by noon, so I’ll need that to be picked up. Cartier will be making a delivery today at 4:00. The courier has instructions to only deliver to me or you. It’s a surprise for Butterfly. Do you know if Gail has attire suitable for a week’s stay on the island?” Taylor’s head jerks back in surprise.
“Gail, sir?” he asks bemused.
“Well, yes. I think Butterfly will be more comfortable with someone familiar around. I do expect her to perform some of her regular duties, but the villa has housekeeping and chef service, so it’ll mostly be a vacation for the two of you as well. I also plan on bringing Davenport since he’s Butterfly’s personal and permanent security now. He might as well get used to it…”
“Permanent and personal? She agreed to that?” I look at him incredulously.
“What do you think? She just spent the weekend handcuffed to a bed… against her will.” I say matter-of-factly. He nods.
“Duh! So… full alert for Anguilla?” Taylor asks. I rub my chin.
“I don’t know for sure. So far, the only ones that know we’re going are you and I, Welch, my mother, Allen, and Ana. So, those are all trusted people. Once you notify the pilot and co-pilot, then Gail… that’ll be a few more. I’ve never had reason to question Ms. Acton. Let’s play it by ear. Not too lax, but not full alert unless we see the need,” I reply.
“Very well. Let me talk to Gail and see what we need to do for transport.” I nod, and Taylor is on his way. When I finish combing through my emails and forwarding important ones to Ros, it’s around 10am. Time to wake Sleeping Beauty. I turn off my computer and walk down the hall to our bedroom.
Thank God the door was closed!
Butterfly is beautifully sprawled out across the bed, her hair splayed out over the pillow. The blanket is only covering her lower extremities and her perfect pink nipples are exposed and erect, like she’s dreaming of a chilly winter afternoon. I can’t help but take one in my mouth and suck. Her back curves almost immediately at the contact as she wakes and stretches.
“Christian,” she says, sleepily, “Baby, I can’t. My coochie is going to fall off.”
“I’m not touching your coochie. I’m sucking your tits,” I say, switching to the neglected nipple.
“Oh!” she moans, thrusting her fingers into my hair. “But you know what this always leads to,” she whines, her voice heavy with desire.
“I know, but it doesn’t have to,” I say, still teasing her nipple with my tongue and teeth while pinching and squeezing the other one.
“Christiaaaan,” she whines, “Don’t be mean.” I chuckle against her nipple and suck it once more.
“Okay, Baby,” I say scooting up the bed to kiss her. “How do you feel this morning?” I ask.
“Deliciously sore,” she answers draping her arms around my neck.
“Mmmm,” I moan while closing my lips over hers. “I like the sound of that.” She giggles against my lips. “And I like the sound of that, too. Would you like a shower, my Butterfly?”
“Absolutely. What time is it?” she asks.
“Just after 10.”
“Mmmm. We better hurry. Allen’s coming over at 11:30 to discuss my case and Maxie will be here at one to… talk.” She still doesn’t know that I know.
“Where will you and Maxine be… talking?” I ask.
“In the library. Why?”
“I’ll have Taylor disable the closed-circuit TV for that room until you’re done.” She does a sharp intake of air.
“Did you… see it?” I know she’s referring to her session with Maxine last Wednesday.
“No, I had Taylor remove the footage. Allen told me. I just put two and two together about last Wednesday,” I say. She looks away from me, almost like she’s ashamed. “What’s wrong? You have Maxine, I have Flynn. Just let me or Taylor know whenever you plan to meet with her here and we’ll make sure that you get your privacy.” She smiles at me again.
“Thank you, Baby.” Mmm, that’s sounds good.
“You’re welcome, Butterfly, I say kissing the tip of her nose. “Now, let’s get you cleaned and dressed.”
“You’re going to dress me again?” she asks, smiling.
“If you’ll let me,” I reply. Her smile goes from beaming to coy.
“Of course, I’ll let you,” she says sweetly, and plants another kiss on my lips. Oh, how I love this woman.
After her shower, I put her in a pair of beige Hanky Panky regular rise lace thongs and a beige Rachel Pally pina halter maxi dress. I can easily caress the contours of her beautiful body through the soft jersey material.
“What… no bra, Mr. Grey?” she says seductively. I gently brush my hand against her nipple through the fabric and her breath catches.
“No, Ms. Steele,” I say just as seductively as she did. “No bra. Besides, you have firm, beautiful breasts.” She closes her eyes to gather herself, but the tautness of her nipple through the dress gives away her arousal.
“May… I wear my butterflies again?” I’m taken aback by her request. Her voice is soft, beseeching… like she knows she doesn’t have to ask, but she wants my approval.
“Of course,” I say, softly. I hear the reverence in my voice. I want to make her feel special… and she made me feel special by requesting my pieces again. As I retrieve the jewelry from the nightstand, Butterfly quickly scoops her hair up in a bun and holds it in place with two wooden chopsticks with gold and silver butterflies at the end.
“Those are adorable. Where did you find them?” I ask.
“At a little tchotchke shop in the Marketplace Val and I visited a while back. I never thought I would really have cause to wear them and then…” She smiles coyly at me.
“They’re lovely, Butterfly,” I say. I adorn her in the rest of her butterflies. “Now, it’s perfect.” We stand there smiling at each other like two giddy teenagers. “You make me very happy, Ms. Steele.”
“And you make my heart leap, Mr. Grey.” We share another kiss before we leave the bedroom hand in hand.
Allen is standing in the great room when we get there. “I’m sorry, sir. I was just on my way to inform you,” Taylor apologizes.
“No problem, Taylor. We were expecting him,” I say.
“Jewel!” Allen coos. “You look lovely!” Butterfly blushes a beautiful shade of pink.
“Thank you,” she replies coyly.
“Boy! A little rest can do wonders for a girl. When I came over yesterday, you looked like you were ready to go to the mattresses.”
“Oh, I’m still ready to go to the mattresses, which is part of the reason why I called you here today. It’s just that my Baby makes sure that I look good while I’m doing it.” She smiles coyly at me. I bring her hands to my lips and kiss them gently.
“Well, well…whatever you’re doing, Chris, keep it up. I’m glad to see my Jewel is better than ever!” Allen says.
“Oh, I intend to,” I say, never taking my eyes off my beautiful Butterfly. Taylor’s signature throat-clearing can be heard behind Allen. I make eye-contact with him.
“Sir, Your Highness, the Mortons are downstairs,” Taylor says.
“What the fuck?” I exclaim.
“Your Highness!?” Al asks, turning to me.
“Private joke,” she says to Al. “Go get them. Bring them up,” she tells Taylor. I glare at her.
“What? Why do you want to see them? What could they possibly have to say to you?” I shoot.
“I don’t want to see them. I want them to see me. And they have nothing to say to me, but I have a whole lot to say to them. Where’s Chuck?”
“Right here, Ana,” Davenport says coming out of the study.
“You ready?” she asks, looking over her shoulder.
“For however you need me,” he nods and takes the stance. I stand silently behind Butterfly as she watches the door awaiting the arrival of the Mortons. Minutes later, Taylor opens the door and, noting our configuration, he quickly steps aside and allows the Mortons inside. He takes his stance next to me after he closes the door.
Butterfly is expressionless, like she was when she was standing on the balcony yesterday—cold, stoic, and scary. Her arms are folded in front of her as she glares at the people standing in the great room just beyond the entrance.
“Ana… Hello,” Mini-Morton begins. Butterfly says nothing.
“You look beautiful, so much better than you did at the hospital. Are you feeling better now?” she says hopeful… still no sound from Butterfly. I thought she said she had a lot to say to them. What gives? She’s still staring stoically at her mother.
“I, um, don’t know where to start. I’ve missed you so much. I didn’t know where you were. I figured that you came to Washington once you graduated… to live with Ray… but then we… lost touch and I didn’t know what happened to you after that.”
Lost touch. Is that what they call it now…when you emotionally abandon your child living in the same house with you? Basically, leave her to fend for herself for two years until she runs away from you screaming, never to look back? Lost touch… that’s what you call that? I guess that’s what happened with the crack whore—she lost touch with the need to feed, clothe, and protect me. Gee, thanks for explaining that, Mini-Morton!
“Are you finished?” Butterfly’s voice breaks me out of my sarcastic introspection. “Are you done trying to be Mommy now? Because I told you two days ago to leave and never come back, and I can’t figure out for the life of me why you’re still here. I needed Mommy 11 years ago. I don’t need Mommy now! You’re clearly not wanted and not needed, so why are you still here?”
Mini-Morton’s face turns pale and she seems to be fighting to find her words.
“I’m… I… want to repair our relationship… to make amends…”
“Amends? There are no amends for us… ever. You sold your amends… for $750,000. Remember that?” Butterfly says flatly.
“Only my friends call me Ana. For this small amount of time that you’re in my presence, you refer to me as Dr. Steele.”
Whoa! I remember those days. She’s pissed, truly pissed.
“Doctor!? You’re a doctor now?” Mini-Morton exclaims. Okay, I can’t hold it in anymore.
“Okay, why the fuck are you two here? Because if you were concerned about her at all, you would at least know that she’s a doctor!” I bark. Butterfly’s small hand reaches back to me and rests on my chest to silence me. I am amazed how it immediately calms me as I am ready to get on all fours and leap at these two rodents like a panther.
“Yes, Carla. Dr. Steele. Do not call me Ana anymore,” she says.
“I had no idea. I also didn’t think… I mean, I knew that this wasn’t going to be easy, but I never expected you to be so bitter towards me,” Mini-Morton says, clearly trying to muster up some tears.
“Oooooohohoho,” Butterfly laughs almost sinisterly. “I am leagues beyond bitter,” she growls. “I passed bitter, so long ago, I don’t even know what bitter looks like anymore.”
“Ann, we’re only trying to mend the fences here. Your mother was grief-stricken when she heard that you had been kidnapped.” Now, Morton decides to speak.
Butterfly turns slightly to Morton, and the glare she turns on him should have melted his eyeballs out of their sockets… pure, unadulterated loathing, enmity, and detestation.
“Did you speak?” she says incredulously. “Did it speak?” she asks turning to me and pointing at Morton before she quickly turns back to Morton. “You dare attempt to speak to me? You think you can refer to me in the hated familiar when she can’t? Why do you keep showing up, I mean, why? I can halfway understand her, but you… I don’t get at all. Why are you here, you sniveling little, money-grubbing weasel?
“I truly hope that you two don’t think for one second that you’re going to pop back into my life for any reason whatsoever. You didn’t have any use for me and now I don’t have any use for you. Oh, I stand corrected! I was your meal ticket. Too bad you treated me worse than a Vegas cockroach!
“The sight of you makes me physically ill. I don’t even want to know why you did what you did to me or treated me the way that you did because there’s absolutely nothing you can say to me that will allow me to excuse it. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just two names on the long list of people that’ll feel my wrath very soon and you shouldn’t even want to be in my presence. You should want to hide whenever you see me, because trust me—when you see me coming, I’m up to no good when it comes down to the two of you. You keep walking into the snake pit and I’m a 50-foot Anaconda about to eat your ass alive. You should be running!”
Fuck! Why did my damn dick just get hard?
“Why are you so damn evil to me?” Mini-Morton begins to close the space between her and Butterfly. Remembering her threat to take him to the mat, Davenport steps in front of Mini-Morton holding up his hand.
“That’s far enough,” he says to her. Morton steps to Mini-Morton.
“Touch my wife and I’ll break your arm,” he says to Davenport, exhibiting those balls I saw in Dylan’s a few nights ago but that seemed to have evaded him in the hospital on Tuesday.
“Try it and I’ll break your neck,” Davenport promises, and Morton clearly shrinks back a bit before turning his attention to Butterfly.
“She’s trying, Ann. She could have just ignored the news reports…” he begins.
“She should have!” Butterfly snaps. “Do you two just want me to scream at you and treat you badly? Because until I can find a way to make you pay for what you did to me, that’s all I have for you!”
“Really, Ann, can’t you just give her a chance?”
“No, I can’t… And I realize that your liver is probably pickled but is your brain pickled, too? I clearly told her not to call me Ana, and you’re still calling me Ann! I fucking hate that name and it’s only going to piss me off even more! My name is Dr. Steele, or are you too busy swimming in whiskey to hear me?” Call her Dr. Steele, Morton. Call her Dr. Steele. I’m a witness, you won’t win this one.
“Why should I show you any respect when you show none to me?” he spit.
“Respect!? Are you kidding!? Seriously, is that a joke? Is that a fucking joke?” She’s screaming now. “How much respect did you show me when that fucker raped me, and you took $750,000 to keep me quiet? Yes, that fucker raped me, you ass! I didn’t give it up, and I wasn’t swinging my ass around in front of him. And I don’t give a flying fuck that he had a hot girlfriend… he fucking raped me… little, mousy, quiet, poor Anastasia Steele. He fucking raped me. He probably did it because he knew nobody would believe me. He knew that they would take his word over mine, and that’s exactly what you did. Do you have any fucking idea how it feels for someone to blame you for being raped… and then punish you? Brutally?”
She does something at that moment that causes my entire security staff to blush and turn away. She unties her beautiful dress and drops it to the floor. She’s standing there with her back to the Mortons so they can see her brand.
She looks up at me and I can see that she’s fighting the tears.
“Do you see it? Look at it closely… do you see it?” she barks.
“Yes, Butterfly, they see it,” I say softly. I honestly think they may have never seen it before, the way that they’re staring at it now. I pick up her dress and pull it over her body. She composes her tears as I tie it around her neck.
“Thank you,” she whispers to me. I nod to her before she turns back to the Mortons.
“This is what I got for being raped. This is my reward for going to my stepfather and hoping for some kind of justice from the spoiled, entitled asshole who viciously ripped my virginity from me without my permission. They fucking branded me… like livestock… and I was conscious—for the first brand anyway. I wanted you to believe me then, but I don’t want it now. I don’t want you to believe me, I don’t want amends, I don’t even want respect. I want revenge… and I’m going to get it against every fucker who had anything to do with this… and I want you to leave and never come back, because there is no place in my life for you. There never will be, so just. Go. Away.”
She turns to leave, and Morton grabs her arm. None of us heard what he said as a gaggle of men attempted to reach Morton with full intentions on pummeling him, but we we’re too slow.
With her usual tiger-like speed and reflexes, Butterfly sucker-punches Morton in the jaw, following with an elbow strike and a good strong gut-punch before she literally lifts her dress and dropkicks him—barefoot—in the chin. This asshole goes sailing back to the door that he and his mini-wife entered a few minutes ago and lands on the floor on his back.
“Steve!” Mini-Morton yells as she rushes to his side.
“You spineless, drunken worm—don’t you ever touch me again!” Butterfly hisses.
“I’ll sue you!” he yells. “I’ll fucking sue you.”
“Yeah, you do that, but I should warn you—this apartment is wired with closed circuit television. So, I have you on tape, putting your hands on me first. I was just defending myself. So, you sue me, and I’ll own that worthless piece of shit property that you have in Green Valley, which I probably will anyway by the time I’m done with you,” she threatens. Knowing that his actions have been recorded and he has no ground to stand on, Morton silently nurses his sore jaw—thrice hit by the tigress that is my Butterfly.
“To the person formerly known as my Mom, would you like some of the same?” Mini-Morton never answers, but of course she doesn’t need to. “Then please take your pile of drunk, deadbeat husband and get the fuck out of my home.”
Her home. She called it her home. Oh… if only… My hope flutters a bit hearing those words.
“Go back to Nevada, before I make your lives here very uncomfortable, and for the last time…don’t. Come near me. Again. This is your last warning,” she says, impassively, and folds her arms again. That’s my signal that she’s done. I gesture to Taylor to show the Mortons out. He walks to the door where Morton is still lying on the floor.
“Again, you heard the lady. Leave,” he says to them. Mini-Morton turns to me.
“So now you’re going to resort to bullying us!” she spits at me.
“I have nothing to say to you!” I bark. “Get out of my house. You’re trespassing. She has asked you to leave several times. I’ll only tell you once. As I have it on video that you’ve been requested to leave several times, I’ll be within my rights to have you forcibly removed—and if that means head first down the emergency stairwell, so be it!”
Mini-Morton’s eyes grow large as she attempts to help Morton off the floor who is pretending to be hurt. I walk over and look down at him.
“I told you she could take care of herself. Since you put your hands on my girlfriend, you’re lucky I don’t have you beaten beyond recognition and then arrested. if I ever see you again—in private or in public—I will take it as an act of aggression and act accordingly. Now you’re blocking my door. Don’t. Make me say it. Again!” I hiss.
Having met my fist before, Morton quickly scrambles to his feet and, after Taylor opens the doors, escorts his wife out of my apartment. We watch as they wait for the elevator to arrive, get inside, and the doors close behind them. Butterfly lets go of a breath that she was holding.
“I’m sorry, Guys. I didn’t mean to drop trou in front of you that way,” she says, blushing.
“Well, technically, you didn’t drop trou. You dropped dress, but we understand,” Davenport replies, shaking his head. “Please refrain from doing that again,” he chides.
She smiles, embarrassed. Then she looks at me, shaking her head.
“They don’t get it. I thought they were just being greedy, but I saw it in their eyes. Neither of them stuck around when I was in the hospital, so they don’t know what I went through… but that’s no excuse, because they didn’t really want to know. What’s worse, they don’t think there’s anything wrong with what they did. As far as they’re concerned, this was just my plight in life and I should just accept it. The Distillery there still doesn’t believe that I was raped, but I don’t care anymore. I said what I have to say and now they need to just stay the hell away from me.” She puts her hand on her forehead and looks down. “Oh, God, please let me be a better mother than that when I have children.”
My heart stands still when she says that.
When I have children…
I never knew how she felt about it. We never talked about it. I rush to her side and take her face in my hands.
“Don’t you worry, Butterfly,” I say. “You are a wonderful person… and you’re going to be a fantastic mother someday.”
Her eyes light up like Christmas. It’s the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen.
“Thank you, Baby,” she says, smiling sincerely, touching my hand as she leans into it.
“Okay, we’ve disposed of the garbage. Now I think we all have some serious business to attend to.” Allen snaps us out of our thoughts. I forgot he was even here.
“That we do!” Butterfly says.
“Okay, we’ll leave you to it. Taylor, we have a trip to plan,” I say as I head for my study.
“Well, that was entertaining.” Al says as I pull out an Asian chicken salad that Gail was kind enough to make for lunch.
“To say the least! You’d think they would learn, but noooooo.” I sing the no. Allen and I chew the fat about everything and nothing while I warm some breadsticks to go with the salad and mix some cranberry spritzers. I excuse myself momentarily while I load up a tray and take lunch to a very grateful Christian and Taylor. I think my boyfriend—like I—forgot that we slept in kind of late and hadn’t eaten anything yet.
Allen and I take our lunch in the great room and continue to gab about Val and Elliot and where we think they’re headed. Quite frankly, I think he’s just a plaything for her and that he’s using this opportunity to get over the broken engagement with Kate. Al seems to think it’s more. I’m dying to know what, if anything, has transpired between Marilyn and Gary. Now, that’s a cute little couple.
“I feel like Jane Austin’s Emma, although her matches weren’t always successful,” I laugh.
“This is true, young Jewel,” he says sipping his spritzer. “So, we’ve had a lovely lunch. Now, what’s the purpose of this meeting… besides my good company?”
“Well, I want to talk about lawsuits.”
“Ooooh, this is a business meeting,” Al says.
“Yes, sir. One third of the settlement and all,” I respond. Allen perks up.
“Delicious. Who are we going after?”
“First, Edward David,” I say. He looks at me confused for a moment, then it dawns on him.
“False imprisonment,” he says in realization. I nod.
“Genius, Jewel! How much are we talking?”
“I want his company. I want to attach at least two-thirds of his assets and I don’t want him to be able to dispose of any of the assets to use on his defense,” I inform him.
“That’s easy enough. I just have to do some discovery.”
“Well, I’ll let you know right now that Christian has already done a background check and has his financials. I don’t want his cheap ass condo or his funky ass car, but I want everything else. Christian has him netted out at about 6 million.”
“Good, then we’ll sue for five.” I pause.
“Five? Isn’t that exorbitant? I want to win,” I say. Al frowns at me.
“Babydoll… who’s the lawyer?” I throw my hands up. “You ask for more than what you want in hopes that you get what you want. You want to come out with 4 to 4.5, so you ask for five.”
“Okay. You’re the boss,” I say.
“No, you’re the boss. I’m just the expert. I’ll get that ball rolling ASAP and I’d like to see the financials if Chris doesn’t mind sharing.”
“I’m sure he won’t mind. I’ve already shared that idea with him… but I haven’t shared this one yet.” We’re sitting on the sofa in the great room and I lean my arms on my knees. “I want to sue Henderson, and Clark County, Nevada.” Allen sits back on the sofa.
“Jewel, what do you think you’re going to get from that?” he asks.
“If nothing else, I’ll get some publicity for this shit. I need to make some noise. I need someone to say something. I need something more than a hunch to sink my teeth into and rats always run from a sinking ship… as if there’s somewhere that they can go. Well, this bitch is Titanic, and I need some satisfaction.”
“First blood,” he says.
“First motherfucking blood,” I confirm. “I don’t expect to get anything out of this. I know these cases are very rarely ever won and this one has holes all over the place. So, I’m willing to pay your hourly rate for any work that you have to do with this since I don’t expect a settlement…” Allen starts waving his hands at me.
“If you don’t get a settlement, then neither do I, Jewel. I’m completely behind you—balls to the wall. Where do you want to start?”
“Well, this case received local and statewide media recognition. I’m not sure if it was picked up nationally—I was only 15 and I really didn’t care about all of that and I don’t remember. We could probably Google it and find out, but I know it was in the local news for months—maybe even years if we go on just the mention of it—and the District Attorney’s office never even touched it. Why is that? Any other time, they would be pushing for evidence to get a highly publicized case solved. Hell, they even changed the curfew laws in Green Valley because of it—so it was highly fucking publicized. Was this just a case of negligence—the case wasn’t big enough? Or maybe the case was too big. Were their hands tied because there was not enough evidence collected by the police, or did somebody pay the DA off, too? I don’t know, but once the Attorney General grabs this case, I want a lawsuit on George Sullivan, the Henderson Police Department, the Clark County District Attorney’s office, and the sitting DA at that time. Negligence is going to be my primary suit and anything that can come from the information that you find in discovery. If we get any suspects out of this—which I doubt that we will because the evidence was so awful—I’ll be filing wrongful death suits on them for the death of the baby.”
“You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?” he asks. I sigh.
“Ever since I got out of the hospital, I’ve just been thinking and thinking and thinking—about the people who wronged me and what they gained from it; about how it seems like nothing has happened to them, but I seem to have misery befall me more often than I should. Why should they go coasting happily through life while I walk around carrying Magnums and Berettas that couldn’t even help me at that crucial moment? I’m sick with vengeance and I’m trying to correct my thoughts because I know that line of thinking is dangerous and wrong, but I’m not going to be the victim anymore. I am Christian Grey’s girlfriend and that makes me a target in more ways than one. I’m going to make it clearly known that I have sharpened my claws and fangs and if you bite me, I’ll maul and mangle you to death.”
“You’re not likely to get anything on that wrongful death, Jewel. Are you sure you want to pursue that?” he asks.
“I’m not expecting to get anything on any of it except publicity. Oh, I expect to take all of David’s money. By the time I’m done taking his company, the money he has left will have to go to his defense. If I’m not mistaken, if he’s in jail, an executor will be assigned to handle his assets, correct?”
“That’s correct,” Al confirms.
“And those assets will be frozen to avoid any misappropriation while he is in jail and under investigation, correct?”
“Yep. That’s the way it usually works,” he says.
“Good. Then it’s right in line with what I want.”
“You know he’s never going to make that insanity plea float, right? I mean, it’s completely ludicrous and unfounded. There’s intent all over the place—starting with that protection order. There’s no way that he’s going to be able to prove that this wasn’t premeditated. He even changed his appearance for Christ’s sake,” Al exclaims.
“Well, he better hope for his sake that it doesn’t float, because if he ever comes near me again, I’m going to kill him,” I say, flatly. Al throws his hands up in the air.
“Damn it! You and Chris! Shit! I keep telling you that you can’t tell me that shit,” he says.
“I can tell you whatever I want, Al. You’re my attorney. Everything that I say to you is privileged!” I say. “He terrorized me. He violated a protection order and he terrorized me. If I ever see him coming my way again, I believe he’s going to terrorize me again—and I’m going to aim for his fucking skull and empty the fucking clip! So, for his sake, he better hope that his insanity plea doesn’t pan out for him, because if I ever find out that he’s a free man, I’m going to hunt him down like the dog that he is. If I’m 90 years old and can’t walk, I will chase him on a motorized scooter carrying a nine with a hairpin trigger—and I don’t care who knows. That psychotic fuck will never get near me again. So, for his safety, they better keep him locked up,” I spit. That’s when I remember I have business at that varmint’s current place of residence. “That reminds me. I need to go to the police station to pick up my mag and my boo.”
“Do you want me to take you?” he asks.
“No, I’ve got Maxie coming over shortly. I’ll have Chuck take me this afternoon, assuming Christian doesn’t insist on doing it. You know that he won’t let me out of his sight,” I say with a smirk.
“He loves you, girl,” Al says, sweetly.
“Yeah, I know.” I blush. “That reminds me. Did you bring it?”
“Of course, I brought it. I almost jumped out of my skin when you told me to get it.” Allen reaches in his pocket and pulls out a small box wrapped in yellowing tissue paper.
“Thank you, Al,” I say, holding the little package like it’s the Hope Diamond.
“Are you sure this is it, Jewel? I mean, I have a feeling that this is a point of no return type of thing here.”
“Allen Michael Forsythe, I am beyond the point of no return,” I reply. “If this isn’t it, I am totally screwed.”
“Well, I wish you joy,” he says with a little bow.
“And you as well,” I say with a curtsey.
“Here, I brought your mail, too.” He hands me a bundle of mail.
“Thank you, love,” I say.
“Well, Darling. I’m going to leave you and Chris to your planning. I know Maxie will be here any minute, so I’m going to take off.” He kisses me on the cheek.
“Okay, dear, keep me posted and let me know if you need any more information.” Before I finish my sentence, Christian and Taylor emerge from his study and Taylor heads back to the guest quarters.
“Are you two finished?” Christian asks joining us in the great room.
“Yes,” I say, putting my arms around his waist. “I was just bidding farewell to my gay boyfriend,” I jest. Christian’s brow furrows.
“I’ll never get used to hearing that,” he says as he kisses my forehead. “Allen, can I detain you for a moment?”
“Sure, what’s up?’ Allen says. I kiss Christian’s cheek.
“I’m going up to my office.” Christian smiles at me. “What?”
“Nothing,” he says. “I’ll send Maxine up when she gets here.” I examine him for a moment, then shrug it off. “I’m going to call Chuck. I want to go and pick up my car and my guns this afternoon.”
“I’ll have Taylor notify him. What time do you want to go?” Christian asks.
“Maxie and I should be done around two, so I’d say maybe three.” He nods.
“Okay. No problem,” he says. I turn to leave, then something occurs to me.
“Christian?” He turns around. “What do you want me to do with my gun?” His brow furrows again.
“What do you mean?” He asks.
“Well, I’m going to pick up my guns and then I’m coming back here. My bo…my Glock stays in the glove box, but my Magnum comes with me. I know you don’t like guns, so what do you want me to do with it?” I ask. He walks over to me and kisses me on the forehead again.
“Thank you for thinking of me. Do you mind putting it in a fireproof lock box while it’s here?” he asks.
“No, I don’t mind that at all,” I respond. I could just put it in the beautiful desk that he brought me, but I know the lockbox will make him feel better.
“Okay, I’ll have one in your office by the time you get back.” I notice that he stresses the word your. I wonder if he’s being a smart ass.
“Thank you, dear,” I say sarcastically before ascending the stairs to my office. I put my little package safely in my desk drawer and lock it. I place the mail on top of the desk—I’ll look at it later. I have a few minutes before Maxie gets here and I think about what I said to Al about Googling the Green Valley incident. I wonder…
To avoid getting every plastic surgeon and special interest story in the Valley, I Googled myself. I seem to have forgotten that I just had a very eventful weekend. Christian was right… I have instant celebrity status. Before I click on the various headlines I read which ranged from truth to utterly ridiculous, I decide to click on “images.” There are various pictures of every angle of Christian carrying me from the hospital. Some old picture from college… God only knows what that was for. The one that catches my eye, though, is a picture of Christian and Allen sitting in Christian’s study. I click on the picture and it’s actually a link to a previously live feed.
Allen’s doing all of the talking. He’s issuing a plea for anyone with information about my whereabouts to contact their local police department. There are pictures of David and Harris before and after their transformations. How they got “after” shots, I don’t know, but they got them. Christian hasn’t said anything, but his face says it all. He looks beaten and worn, like he’s been crying or hasn’t gotten any sleep… or both. His shoulders are rounded… not squared like I’m accustomed to seeing them. He looks gorgeous as usual… but tortured—so, so tortured. I begin to check the news stations and I see that the video was picked up by all the major networks. Everybody wants a piece of Christian Grey, and I bet he was counting on that. That’s why Harris panicked. He saw himself on television in connection with my disappearance and he freaked out. It caused him and Edward to get sloppy and afforded me the opportunity to contact the police for help. Poor Christian. He looks so lost and hopeless.
“I take it this is your first time seeing it.” Maxie’s voice breaks my concentration. I nod.
“I take it you’ve already seen it,” I reply.
“Several times. I had words with Allen for not telling me before I saw it on MSNBC. He explained that they had to work quickly,” she says.
“He looks so hurt,” I say looking at Christian’s broken expression on the computer screen.
“He was a basket case before he got a chance to see you at the hospital, Ana. He paced a hole in the waiting room floor. He hit the wall several times. He gave the nurses hell trying to get information on you. The only one that could calm him down was his mother. He seemed to rein in his feelings when Ray showed up, but not by much. He is completely besotted with you. He’s hopelessly gone. What have you done to that man?” She sits in one of the chairs in the library. I come from behind the desk and sit in the chair across from her.
“The same thing he has done to me,” I say, putting my hand on my forehead. “You already know that I’m in love with this man.”
“Yes, and I would venture to say that he’s in love with you, too… if his behavior this weekend is any indication. You should see him when you walk out of a room. He’s frozen to you. I’m sure that if you two were the only two in the room that he watches the door until you get back,” she says laughing and I join her in the laughter.
“Well, I was kidnapped,” I say.
“And brutally beaten… again!” I add.
“Yep, yep,” she says.
“And I discovered that Christian went to Green Valley to confront the Whitmores and the people who attacked me the first time.”
“Ye… What?” Now I’ve really got her attention.
“Yep!” I finish the word for her. “There was never any K&R insurance… well, at least not in this instance. He used it as a cover to go to Green Valley and dig around and oh, what he found! When I found out, I became angry, I left the apartment without security and got kidnapped.”
“Oh, Ana,” she says, her voice low.
“So… as you can see, I think I’m going to need a few regular sessions for a while. So, I’m going to need to be paying you… especially for these house calls.”
“Okay, no problem. Same as before?” she says, referring to our previous payment arrangement.
“Same as before,” I agree. “He’s taking me away… to Anguilla…”
I have a long, detailed talk with Maxie about everything on my mind—the kidnapping, David’s plea, the truth about Green Valley, my plot for revenge, the lawsuits, the Mortons, the trip to Anguilla, the significance of the box Al brought me today. She didn’t get a chance to say much because I just needed to unload. We’ll go into all the delving and picking things apart later… there’s only so much that we can do in an hour. We keep the paid sessions very professional, and save our girl talk for once we’re done. Once the clock was off…
“Phil wants a traditional wedding. I want something small. What the hell are we going to do?” she says, a bit forlorn.
“Have you started your guest lists yet?” I ask. She shakes her head.
“I don’t even know where I’m having it yet, let alone who I’m inviting,” she responds, clearly flustered.
“Well, start there. Decide who you really want to be there and then you can decide how big the wedding is going to be. And for God’s sake, don’t start inviting your third cousin once removed that you haven’t seen in 20 years because it’s a waste of an RSVP,” I say throwing my hands in the air. She falls back in her chair.
“Should I hire a planner?” she asks. I’m not really sure about that.
“Start with the guest list. If it gets to be more than 100 people, hire a planner and prepare for an old-fashioned wedding,” I say winking at her and walking back to my desk. “And don’t start inviting people because your mom wants her friends to come or So-and-so is going to be angry if they don’t get an invitation. This is your day. Make sure it’s what you want it to be. And don’t turn into Bridezilla on me because I’ll drop you like a hot potato before you can blink.”
She knows that I’m kidding about dropping her but not about Bridezilla.
“So… Anguilla? I’m so jealous, you cow!” she says after a brief silence. Just then, I hear frantic, rushed footsteps coming up the stairs, then a hurried knock at my door.
“Come in,” I call, wondering where the fire is. Gail pushes the door open, a woman on a mission, tendrils of hair flying out of her normally well-kept bun.
“Anguilla!?” she squeals a little more than flustered. “I don’t have the wardrobe for Anguilla! And we’re leaving at 4 in the morning… tomorrow! What am I supposed to do?” Maxie and I burst into laughter.
“Well, it looks like there’s an impromptu shopping trip in our future,” I say to Maxie.
“Oh, most definitely,” Maxie exclaims. “I can live vicariously through the two of you since I won’t be going to fabulous Anguilla.”
“Ana…are you sure? I know how you feel about your bruising,” Gail asks.
“Well, first of all, it’s gone down considerably and second, I’ve decided that I’m not going to worry about it anymore. Now, we have to make a detour because I have to go to the police station and get my car and my guns…”
“Your guns?” Gail says.
“Yeah. Our girl here is a regular bad-ass. There’s no way those two fucks would have gotten her if she had been allowed to keep her Magnum in her purse,” Maxie says.
“A Magnum… really?” Gail says. She sounds fascinated.
“Yes. My dad taught me how to shoot at an early age and when I turned 21, I got my CCW. Now I have a Magnum, a Glock 9mm, and a Beretta.”
“So which ones are at the police station?” she asks.
“The Glock and the Magnum. I keep the Glock in my glove box and the Magnum in my purse.”
“So, I get to see them…?” She is really intrigued.
“Sure, you get to see them. Christian is putting a lockbox in here so that I can keep my Magnum safe,” I say.
“A gun? In the apartment? Not used by security? I would think Mr. Grey would never agree to that,” Gail says, skeptically.
“Well, he has to now. We talked about my guns in the beginning of our relationship and now, he knows I will go absolutely nowhere without them. So…” I shrug.
“Wow. You’ve really made some changes in Mr. Grey,” she says.
“Yes, and we had better get going because we don’t have much time. As far as I know we are staying four days, but it could be longer, so we need to get you clothes for 10.” I Google the weather for Anguilla this time of year.
“I certainly can’t afford that, Ana,” she protests.
“Oh, don’t worry. I didn’t get to shop for myself, so I can shop for you.”
“Oh, Ana, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking me. I’m doing it. Look at my face. I looked like Quasimodo two days ago. Now I look like I’ve just been in a tussle. By Saturday, I’ll be good as new! There’s no way I could have done this without that fabulous tea. Oh please, Gail. We’re going to be on the beautiful island of Anguilla. You have to look fabulous!” I have my hands clasped together like I’m praying. She can’t help but laugh.
“Well, how can I decline such an offer?” she says.
“Good! Go grab your purse and we can get going.”
“But I’m still working…” she protests.
“Yeah, go grab your purse. I’ll take care of Mr. Grey,” I say. “What about you, Max?”
“I kept the afternoon free. I didn’t know what our session was going to be like.” I nod.
“Good thinking,” I say as we all leave my office and head down the stairs. I knock on the door to Christian’s study.
“Come in,” I hear him say through the door. His face lights up when I enter. I like that.
“Hey,” I say, noticing that Al is sitting across from him. “What are you two conspiring now?”
“Terms,” he says, almost triumphantly. I look from him to Al, then back to him, then back to Al.
“He romanced you, huh?” I say to Al.
“Jewel, please,” he says, holding his hands up to me. “I don’t need that visual of my newest client.” I laugh.
“How did he manage to win you over?” I say.
“Well, the terms of our agreement are non-disclosed, but let’s just say that he made me an offer that I couldn’t refuse,” he says, doing a very bad impression of Vito Corleone.
“Oh, God, spare me, please,” I say, throwing my hands in the air. “Baby, I’m leaving early, and I’m stealing your housekeeper for the evening.” He frowns a bit.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“Well, you’re whisking us away to a beautiful island paradise for we don’t know how many days and you failed to tell your housekeeper that she was also going until…” I grab his arm and look at his watch, “… fifteen hours before departure. Although you have so generously taken care of my attire for this glorious trip, no one has outfitted poor Gail… not even poor Gail herself. So, I’m taking her on a super-duper fast impromptu shopping spree.”
“You’re taking her?” he says.
“Yes,” I respond.
“That will never do.” He scoffs as he pulls out his wallet.
“Christian, I have a couple of pennies to rub together, you know. I can take care of it,” I protest.
“I know you do, but this trip is for you, and I don’t want you spending any of your own money… unless it’s for souvenirs or things like that… and only then if you choose to do so. Besides, I’m the one that caught everybody off guard. It’s the least I can do.” He pulls out a credit card and hands it to me… and I almost fucking choke. I try to remain calm.
“What’s my limit?” I ask, concentrating on controlling my voice. He looks up at me with crisp gray eyes.
“Are you really asking me that?” he says, a little curtly. I sigh.
“Well, I don’t want to take advantage of you. Do you know what kind of damage a girl can do with an American Express Black?” I exclaim.
“Do your worst,” he replies with a smile.
“Remember you said that,” I say, pointing at him. He laughs again and kisses me on my cheek.
“Have fun, spend lots of my money, and don’t worry about it. Tell Gail that I insist, and that if she comes back with less than 15 gorgeous things that I know she gave you a hard time. Be sure to buy something for yourself.” Oh, good Lord, I could get used to this. I take a deep breath and let it out.
“Okay. We’ll probably grab dinner out somewhere. Should we take someone else with us or will Chuck be enough?” I say.
“I thought you’d never ask. Take Lawrence with you. I’d feel better if there are two of them,” he responds. I salute him.
“Aye, aye, Captain.” I say, laughing at him as I leave the study. I meet Gail and Maxie in the great room. “Ladies, it is on!” I say as I flash Christian’s Black card between my index and middle fingers. Maxie gasps and Gail falls silent.
“You’re kidding!” Maxie whispers like we are talking about national security.
“I am not… and the sky is the limit!” I say as I fan myself with the Holy Grail of Credit Cards. “Gail, he says he insists, and don’t give me a hard time.” She claps her hands like a kid going to recess. Good! I thought she was going to give me a hard time. “Now let’s go, Ladies, before he changes his mind.”
“I’m not going to change my mind!” he yells from his study and we giggle.
“Where are the guards, Dear?” I ask through my laughter.
“Downstairs. They’re already waiting for you,” he yells again.
“Okay. Love you! Kisses, Al.”
“Love you, too, Butterfly.”
“Al’s in there?” Maxie says.
“Yeah,” I answer.
“Asshole!” she yells.
“Love you, too, Max,” Al responds. Gail and I both gape at her.
“What was that about?” I say as we make our way to the door.
“Oh, we have an agreement. He has to endure that for a while since I had to find out about you on MSNBC,” she says flatly. I hiss.
“Ooo… Okay.” I drop the topic and we enter the elevator headed for the parking garage.
A/N: “Go to the mattresses” & “an offer I couldn’t refuse”—As if you didn’t know, it’s from “The Godfather.” “Going to the mattresses” actually refers to soldiers of a mafia family sleeping on mattresses in a hideout waiting for the “call to arms” in a war with a rival family. I mean think about it—imagine the Don is calling for action and you’re stuck in traffic. So “going to the mattresses” has come to symbolize going to war. The “offer you can’t refuse” usually meant “do what I say or die.” Vito Corleone got someone to sign a contract by telling him either “his brains or his signature would be on the contract.” I don’t think you’d refuse that offer! Another “offer” came when Corleone sent his consigliere to convince a movie producer to cast Corleone’s nephew in a film, but the producer wouldn’t do it. The next thing the producer knew, he woke up with the head of his prized Arabian stallion in his bed. Just a little useless trivia for you!
The Anguilla trip will prove to be quite the adventure! For that reason, I have made a Pinterest board just for our group’s island escapades. Put it in your favorites as the next chapter will start the trek to the Caribbean Sea! Our couple will share love, passion, some bonding moments, a bit of angst, and some fun in the sun in the British West Indies’ island of Anguilla beginning in chapter 49 of our story. Don’t miss it! Please bookmark the board https://www.pinterest.com/ladeeceo/paging-dr-steele-the-trip-to-anquilla/ if you want to travel along with the adventures of our favorite couple!
Check out the pictures on Pinterest at http://www.pinterest.com/ladeeceo/paging-dr-steele/
You can also see who I envision as MY characters in PAGING DR. STEELE at http://www.pinterest.com/ladeeceo/paging-dr-steele-characters/.
Next chapter—tying up some loose ends and we are off to de island in de sun!
You can join my mailing list on the “Contact Me” page. Just click the link and it will lead you to a form to join the list.