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 62—Homeward Bound
Davenport has scurried into the villa after making a comment about Ana’s and my sex life. Although it kind of fit in with the conversation, I’m on the fence about how appropriate it was. This is one of the reasons why I always wanted to keep the lines between employee and employer very clear. Once someone is comfortable around you, they forget their boundaries. This is still being explored with the new relationship being forged with Gail and Jason and myself, but Davenport doesn’t have those liberties.
I cross the dining room and the great room to find them in the sitting room talking animatedly. As I approach, I can hear Davenport pleading his case.
“I’m a professional, Ana. I can’t go back to Seattle behaving this way. That man is my boss. I have no interest in his or your private life, only your safety. I made some kind of comment about him being sprung or whipped or something like that the second day we were here. He walked in on me and Keri naked in a sex stupor. Oh, and let’s not forget the whole pancake debacle…”
“Oh, God, please… let’s forget… please,” Butterfly pleads and I can see her blushing every shade of crimson.
“Now I’m talking about how you guys are fucking? If I say something inappropriate at the wrong time, my job is down the tube, Ana. Hell, I’d quit from embarrassment. I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t fire me.” He throws his hands in the air on that last statement.
“Oh, come on, Chuck. He’s not going to fire you. It wasn’t that serious…”
“Maybe it wasn’t that serious for us… for me and you… because we’re friendly, but that was very serious for Mr. Grey. We don’t joke like that, Ana.”
“Well, maybe we shouldn’t be so blatant about our sex life,” Butterfly says.
What Davenport says next is why I keep him on.
“That’s not the point. If I’m driving that car and the two of you are fucking in the back seat, I’m supposed to be discreet. I understand that Gail and Jason have been with him for a long time, and they take certain liberties that have come with time and with the relationship. I haven’t earned that right. I don’t know if I ever will. You were friendly from the very beginning, and Mr. Grey made me very aware of that, but that’s not the nature of my relationship with him. I feel like shit, Ana. What I said was inappropriate, and I can’t let that happen again,” I can hear him scolding himself.
“Does that mean that you and I can’t be friends anymore?” She sounds a little broken with that statement. She has come to trust Davenport and I don’t want to see that relationship change since he’s so good at protecting her and keeping me abreast of her whereabouts and safety.
“I don’t know, Ana. I may not even have a job after this,” he says falling into one of the seats. Now it’s time to make my entrance.
“Baby, may I speak to Davenport in private please?” I say, walking into the room and announcing my presence. Davenport pops back up out of his seat like a jack-in-the-box while Butterfly looks at me with pleading eyes. She looks sadly at Davenport and then walks toward the door. Before leaving the room, she mouths to me, “Do not fire him,” and I nod once. Davenport has taken stance, which looks a little weird in a T-shirt and Dockers.
“Sir, please allow me to apologize for that statement. It was completely inappropriate and way out of line. I can assure you that it won’t happen again.” He has gone full military on me, and I think this is something that he needs to do.
“Apology accepted. Have a seat,” I say sitting in the seat across from him. He takes the seat, clearly a combination of nervous and surprised. “I’m not a very patient or understanding man, and I know this. I run my life like I run my business and up to this point, everything has been under control and in order. Now, things have been shifted and shaken and I think everyone has been thrown a curve ball. Things are only going to become more difficult from here on out… paparazzi is going to be in our faces all the time. One wrong move and it’s front page news. So yes, I do appreciate professionalism and discretion in my security staff.” I say with finality.
“Yes, sir,” he responds impassively with a nod.
“Having said that, I know the impact that little hurricane has on everyone that she meets. It’s impossible not to be affected by her. I control the lives of hundreds of thousands of people in one way or another, and I didn’t stand a chance against her!” I inform him and he doesn’t react. “She has walked out of this room and silently told me not to fire you.”
He straightens his back a little at that comment.
“You’ve already proven yourself to be a valuable employee, so she really didn’t have to tell me that—and I have no problem with your being friends with Anastasia because that’s just the person that she is. I told you that when you were first assigned to her. However, you’re correct in one thing. I am still Mr. Grey. That’s not going to change. I know that it is very easy to get comfortable, especially in this type of setting and with the events of this week—but understand that Gail and Jason have been with me for a long time and they are taking liberties that have been established by that time. Though it might be tempting to participate in the banter, you need to remember where you are and who you’re dealing with.
“I plan on having a long life and relationship with Anastasia that will hopefully one day result in marriage. I do value you as an employee and I know that she values you as well. Since I’m assuming that you plan not to fuck up and get fired, it’s a safe assumption that you’ll be around for a while. I’m not saying that our relationship will develop into a friendship, or even into the comfortable relationship that you have with Anastasia—but if that ever happens, it’ll take more than just a week in Anguilla.” He observes me to see if I have finished making my point.
“Yes, sir, I understand,” he says when I’m done.
“Good. Now come on out and let’s have dinner.” I stand to leave.
“Sir, if it’s all the same to you, I think I would rather have dinner inside tonight.” Yeah, I kind of figured he would feel that way after that conversation.
“Suit yourself, but I think that we both know that if you don’t come out and have dinner with the rest of us, the Brunette Hurricane is going to come in and drag you out. So, I guess you might want to decide if you’re coming out on your own free will or if you want to be dragged out kicking and screaming by a 5′ 3″ force of nature.” I raise my eyebrows at him and walk out of the room. Needless to say, it takes only about ten paces before he decides that voluntarily coming to dinner is probably a better idea than being dragged out by his ear.
When we get back out to the fire pit, the appetizers have been served and the others have started eating. Butterfly is picking at a shrimp kabob while Jason and Gail talk about plans once we return to Seattle. Butterfly rises when we approach, her eyes full of concern.
“Is everything okay?” she asks, noting Davenport’s reserved demeanor.
“Yes, everything’s fine,” he responds. I deduce that he knows her well enough to know that she would press the matter if I answered that question instead of him.
“We’re fine,” I concur, “and I’m hungry. So, sit back down so we can eat.” She smiles at me and we take our seats again around the fire pit.
It doesn’t take long for me to realize that the conversation we had moments ago didn’t affect Davenport’s ability to interact with the group—only his ability to interact with me, which I actually see as a good thing. My newly-explored relationship with my housekeeper and my head of personal security cannot affect my authority over the rest of my employees. I have no problem separating the two. The tension, however, didn’t go unnoticed by Butterfly.
“Are you two really okay?” she says in my ear during dinner.
“Yes, Butterfly. We’re fine, but you know that I don’t have the same relationship with Davenport that I have with Gail and Jason, and we had to establish that.”
“Exactly how did you establish that? He acts like he would rather chew glass than speak to you,” she says softly, but concerned.
“And that’s not a bad thing,” I respond. “He’s still my employee, and we both understand that. He’s a good man to have around and I like that. So, everything is just back to normal.” She looks at me, skeptically. “Really,” I add.
“Okay,” she says, and I can tell that she is still a bit uncertain. “I can do normal.”
“Good,” I say with a smile and proceed to feed her from the platters of finger foods that the chef staff has prepared. The conversation for the rest of the night is pretty light. Butterfly and I feed each other from the trays all evening and Gail comments that she absolutely never saw me this way before.
“He’s always been so reserved,” she elaborates, “always so controlled, almost to a fault. He knew everything that was going on in every corner of the room, even behind him. Right now, I think a stampede of wild horses could run by and he wouldn’t even notice.” Butterfly laughs at Gail’s observation.
“Well, I don’t think I could argue with you there, Mrs. Taylor. I’m a bit moonstruck,” I say, smiling at my Butterfly, who smiles back at me while gently touching my face.
“It’s good to see you happy,” Gail adds. When I look up at her, she’s holding Jason’s hand and smiling at me.
“It’s good to be happy,” I respond, looking at my Butterfly again. She makes me feel like there is a purpose for me being here on this earth. Before, I felt like I was supposed to just wake up, make money, and die, leaving my fortune to my nieces and nephews—assuming they didn’t turn out to be entitled little brats… and assuming that Elliot and Mia would actually find anyone that could tolerate them long enough to want to raise children with them. Now, Mia has Ethan, and I’m expecting them to make it official any day now. Elliot has had a change of plans from the bitchy Kate Kavanaugh, so I still have hope for him—and of course, I have my Butterfly. Mom must be ecstatic right now.
“Are you just about done?” I ask Butterfly as I pack the last of my toiletries into my duffel bag.
“Yep, that’ll do it for me,” she says, zipping her dress bag shut. “I’m all set except for tomorrow’s clothes and what I’m wearing. How about you?”
“Same here,” I say, sitting on the bed and pulling out my laptop. “So why don’t we map out where we might want to go shopping tomorrow, make the best use of our time?”
“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea,” she says climbing onto the bed next to me as we search the shops in St. Maarten.
“Did you have any idea what you might have been looking for, or did you just want to go around and see what caught your eye?” I ask
“Hmm, maybe a little of both,” she says as we scroll through the many shops on St. Maarten. Butterfly and I look through the shops and map out a route to cover as many places as we can in the time allotted then decide to call it a night.
By 8am, we and our luggage have vacated the Brazilian Emerald Villa and we’re back on the island of St. Maarten. I’ve noticed that Butterfly hasn’t taken any nocturnal beach strolls since the night that we watched the turtles hatching and made love on the sand underneath the sunrise. I don’t know if that experience cured her need to roam, and I don’t want to bring it up at this moment. Another thing that I notice is that Davenport was in uniform in a suit and tie this morning for the trip back to Seattle. I’m certain that Jason told him it wasn’t necessary until they were officially back on duty when we were stateside, but again—if it ain’t broke…
Jason and Davenport supervise loading the luggage onto the jet while Butterfly and I decide to take in some shopping. Very shortly after we begin our trek, they and Gail join us. Once we start looking in the art galleries, I realize that I have created an utter monster. Butterfly chooses three separate paintings of completely different color schemes—each with a butterfly motif. The first is simply a canvas covered with hundreds of monarch butterflies. The second is a brightly themed abstract picture composed of butterfly wings. The third is a beautiful depiction of blue butterflies flying towards a blue tree.
“I’ve ruined you, haven’t I?” I ask as I pay the courier to take them directly to the jet.
“I don’t know why you would say that. I’ve never been particularly drawn to anything before in my life. If it had to be something, why not butterflies?” she answers sweetly. I have a special destination in mind today ever since I saw it on the internet last night. I make an excuse to slip away from Butterfly and Davenport and head off on my mission.
Yes, I love butterflies… so what? I didn’t fall in love with roses when that asshole called me Rosie, thank God, but it is Christian’s fault that I’m so obsessed with butterflies. I’m even thinking about something that I want to do with my body, but I’ll have to give it some thought and do some research before I can even consider it.
Christian loved those barefoot sandals so much that when I find a shop that has different designs, I just go crazy. I think I purchased 10 sets! They’re so simply made, I could actually duplicate them if I want. I also buy two sexy sarongs—one with hand-painted butterflies and one with really pretty purple flowers. They may never leave the house, but who knows? There may be more vacations in my future.
I splurge on a leather briefcase from Longchamp. Granted, I hadn’t bought a new one since I graduated from college, but those things cost more than my car note. Hmm… car note… I wonder what I’m going to do about that car when I get home. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.
I wander into Liz Claiborne to check out the clothes and soon discover that the dresses and items on the sidewalk outside of some of the cheaper vendors were cuter than the stuff in Liz Claiborne. Of course, I buy a few dresses and some scarves. I see the cutest butterfly inkblot mug set trimmed in gold at one of the street vendors that will definitely be going to the office with me. How perfect for a shrink obsessed with butterflies!
I go into a store called Lipstick—walls and walls and bins and bins of cosmetics. It’s fun to poke around and try different colors although Chuck doesn’t agree. I’m able to find a wonderful combination concealer/foundation to help with those days when Mr. Grey can’t help himself and I end up with love bites. I also buy some nail decals, polish, and supplies for just in case a “girl’s night in” is necessary after Val and Elliot finally have their talk… if they ever have their talk.
Chuck and I are laden with the results of my little shopping spree when I notice the cutest phone cases for my iPhone at another of the street vendors. One is covered in Swarovski crystals with the butterfly a rainbow of colored crystals and the other is aqua blue with a butterfly across the cover; its wings are outlined in antique silver and has the words of a book imprinted across them. I look up and, just a few feet away, I see this guy observing me. He doesn’t look creepy or anything, he’s just watching me. I look over at Chuck, who is standing very nearby, but also looking at phone cases. I’m thinking maybe the guy is just checking me out.
I put the crystal-covered case on my phone and as I’m checking the handbags at another vendor, I see it… the camera. What the hell? I look up at Chuck and tell him, “Come on, Chuck.”
“Where are we going?” he asks.
“Look at my phone case.” Chuck looks at the phone case.
“Okay,” he says expecting.
“Keep looking at it and don’t look up.” Now he looks over at me.
“Okay.” His tone has changed.
“Paparazzi at my 10.” Sure enough, he makes to look over my left shoulder before I snatch his suit sleeve to get his attention.
“Chuck! I thought you were a professional! I told you not to look up!” I scold quietly.
“Sorry. It’s a reaction,” he apologizes.
“I want to go and talk to him,” I say and Chuck eyes me warily.
“Are you sure about that, Ana?” he asks.
“Who knew that we were coming here?” I ask. Chuck’s face distorts, then straightens.
“I see your point.”
“I just want to know what he knows,” I say.
“How do you know he’ll tell you anything? They’re not forthcoming with information and are even more protective of their sources.”
“I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse,” I say in my best Vito Corleone imitation. Chuck smiles at me. “Just stay close, okay?” I add.
“You got it,” he responds. I stroll casually in the direction of my newest fan, pretend to examine goods along the outside of the stores while Chuck plays the good little bodyguard. By the time I’m in his face, it’s too late for him to flee.
“So, who do you work for?” I take him by surprise. He’s about my age, blonde, blue eyes, but out-of-place a bit in his jeans and polo.
“What do you mean?” he says to me. Hmm, he’s a professional, too. Chuck positions himself and now he has the guy cornered, so there’s nowhere that he can go.
“See, that’s the wrong answer. I see your little camera there and I can tell that you’re not a tourist—don’t ask me how. I also know that you’ve come a long way to take those pictures and you’re probably going to want to take pictures of me again someday. So, you might want to tell me now who you are, how you found us, and who you work for.” I say folding my arms.
“Damn, lady, you should be a detective,” he responds flatly. I’m still waiting for a response. He sighs. “I’m freelance. It’s on the low-wire that you’re here…”
“The low-wire? What’s that?” I ask a little perturbed.
“I’m sorry. It’s just something I made up. Do you know how ‘ambulance chasers’ listen to police scanners to try to get injury cases?” I nod. “Well, the low-wire is something like that. You keep your ear to the ground to try to be the first to get the scoop on the story and you get leads that normally someone else wouldn’t chase. A picture of you here on vacation after you were kidnapped would set me up with the publications as a solid source of material,” he says honestly.
“Who are you and how did you find us?” I ask again.
“I’m Josh. Joshua Shaler. I’ve been doing this for about a year. I heard about you guys from backdoor sources that I won’t reveal even if you pull my teeth out with pliers,” he states firmly.
“If you give me something I can go on, I won’t use your name, and I’ll give you a picture and a one-line statement,” I say.
“Ana…” Chuck protests, and I hold my finger up to him. I know what I’m doing. Of course, Josh can’t resist the opportunity.
“Picture first,” he says.
“No. Info first,” I demand.
“I’ve already got pictures of you,” he tries to negotiate.
“Then take what you’ve got and get out of my face, and don’t expect to get within photographing distance of me every again in your life, Joshua Shaler,” I say, turning to leave. Four… three… two…
“Wait!” he shouts, and I turn around. He cautiously walks over to me.
“Without revealing my sources, I can tell you that usually info like this comes directly from somebody inside the camp—usually an image consultant or somebody in PR. Nobody knew that you guys were here. Paps are still camped out at the downtown penthouse and your condo. By the time they figure this out, you’ll already be back in Seattle, although there may be a few more rogue freelancers here.”
“How did you know we were here? Until this morning, we were somewhere else,” I accuse.
“I know, Anguilla. I got lucky and my flight was delayed. I saw you and Mr. Grey coming out of the private flight lounge when I was coming out of the airport. Otherwise, I’d be traipsing around Anguilla looking for you like, no doubt, other freelancers are doing right now—that is until they find out that the GEH jet is in the hanger.” Now, that is valuable information. I nod to Chuck.
“For that, you’ve earned a sound bite. Chuck…” Chuck stands behinds me to make the shot more believable. “That thing got video capability?”
“Damn straight,” he says.
“We’ll here’s your still.” I smile, holding up my shopping bags. Josh takes about 10 pictures in quick succession.
“Okay, make this quick and make it right,” I say. “If you abuse my kindness, my boyfriend will have your neck and your career on a platter… but you should be more worried about me,” I warn. He shrinks back a bit.
“Believe me… I am,” he says, looking at me cautiously.
“Smart man,” Chuck says behind me. I put on my best winning smile and check my outfit. I’m wearing a sleeveless cut-off mock turtleneck with Aztec designs to cover my love bites—thank God—and a really cute pair of Mimi Chica lightweight black crochet shorts that look more like a mini skirt with a wavy hem. My hair is in a chic messy bun and I’ve accessorized with multicolored chandelier earrings, simple black bangles, Louboutin canvas and black wedges, and my Bvlgari sunglasses. Chuck stands behind me as Josh switches his fancy camera to video and points it at me.
“Ms. Steele, how have you enjoyed your trip so far?” Josh asks as if he had just run into me.
“Ana, please, and it’s been wonderful. We’ve relaxed and had a fabulous time and now I’m just ready to get home and get back to my life,” I say, pouring on the girl-next-door charm.
“Well, you look great, Ana. It’s good to see you doing so well after your ordeal,” Josh adds.
“Thank you so much, Josh. That’s very kind of you. I have to get going now, no one keeps Mr. Grey waiting,” I say with a coy laugh.
“Okay, thanks again, Ana!” he says before turning off the camera. “Would you like to see it?” I shrug. He shows me the video and I look damn good—sun-kissed, fresh-faced, fit and happy.
“I’m very pleased,” I say, nodding. “Do you have a card?”
“Actually, I do.” Josh reaches into his wallet and pulls out a card.
“I’m going to keep my eye on you, Josh, and I’ll probably be in touch. One day I may need a favor.”
“Yes, Godmother,” Josh laughs. “Thank you, Ms. Steele. You don’t know what this means to me,” he says, sounding a little sentimental.
“I actually do,” I say proffering my hand to him. “This is better than the money shot.” I smile at him. He shakes my hand and smiles back.
“Yes… it is,” he says, before smiling again and walking away. I sigh heavily.
“Call Jason. We need to leave,” I tell Chuck, who wastes no time pulling out his phone. I call Christian.
“Butterfly, you okay?” he answers.
“We need to go, now!” I say sternly, but calmly.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” His voice is full of concern.
“Nothing is wrong, but we need to go now. Where are you?”
“I’m in the center in the shops. Where are you?” he asks.
“I’m near Liz Claiborne.”
“You’re closer to the jet. I’ll come to you. Are you okay?” You’re wasting time, Grey.
“Yes, I’m okay. Get here now, Christian. Chuck is calling Jason.”
“I’m already here!” I hear his voice behind me and he’s stepping out of the taxi.
“Stay!” I yell holding up my finger and walking quickly to the taxi. “Where are Jason and Gail?” I ask Chuck.
“They’re trying to get to us,” Chuck responds.
“Tell them to go to the plane. We’ll meet them there,” I say, climbing quickly into the taxi, bags and all. Chuck climbs into the front and give instructions to go the airport.
“Ana, what the fuck is going on?” Christian is quickly becoming impatient.
“I’ll tell you when we get to the plane.”
“We’re not due to take off for another hour or so. I want to know what the fuck is going on and I want to know now!” he barks.
“No! You don’t!” I bark right back at him. I don’t know who you’re accustomed to getting a response from in that tone of voice, but it sure as hell ain’t me! He’s gaping at me like he can’t believe I just said that to him.
“Davenport!” he spit.
“Not a word,” I bark at Chuck. Christian glares at me.
“The last I checked, he was in my employ!” Well, he’s got me there. Luckily, Chuck comes to my rescue.
“Sir,” he says, turning around and getting Christian’s attention, “With all due respect, sir, she’s right. You probably want to wait to hear this.” He removes his glasses and throws a look at the cabby and back at Christian. Christian looks from Chuck to the cabby and back to Chuck, and then nods. He doesn’t look at me again or say another word. We’re going to have to talk about this one because if he thinks he’s ever going to take that tone with me and get a desired result, he’s got another think coming!
When we get to the hanger, I wait for instructions as I don’t want to rush the plane and be tackled by the TSA—or the equivalent here in St. Maarten—but I am pissed, and I can tell that Christian is just as pissed. So, he’s not going to be pleased with what I did, and damn it, I don’t feel like giving him any explanation.
When instructed, I make a Bee-line for the plane, bags in hand and ascend the steps in record time. The flight attendant tries to greet me when I enter and I brush right past her, taking my bags to the bedroom of the jet and throwing them on the bed. The nerve of him barking at me that way! I’m not one of his fucking subs! I come barreling out of the bedroom and brush by Christian with enough force to make him leap out of my way.
You had better move, you fucking Neanderthal!
Come on, Steele. In all fairness, you did call the man demanding that you all return to the plane and you still haven’t given him an explanation.
I accept that, but he’s not going to speak to me that way and that’s final!
Everyone has made it back to the plane and they’re all just standing around awaiting instructions, including the flight attendant.
“May I please have a drink?” I ask her. I was kind of rude to her upon my entry, but I’m pissed, and I didn’t want to bite her head off for no reason.
“What would you like, Ma’am?” she asks cautiously.
“Vodka rocks, double shot, and please forgive my rudeness earlier, Miss…”
“Samantha, Ma’am,” she says, politely.
“Samantha. Thank you. Ana,” I say, with all the courtesy I can muster, and she nods.
“Can I get anything for anyone else?” she asks. Gail asks for water and everyone else declines. No one speaks until I get my drink and I’m seated on one of the couches, except for Christian who asks the pilot Lance when we’ll be able to take off. Lance informs him that we should be cleared in about twenty or thirty minutes. I throw the entire drink back and almost ask for a second, but think better of it since I haven’t had lunch yet.
“Ana,” Jason begins, “can we know what’s going on now because Chuck is pretty mum.” I cross my legs and look up at a very angry Christian then roll my eyes and turn to Jason.
“Paps are here,” I say flatly. Jason looks up at Christian who says, “What?”
“Paps are here. They know we’re here.”
“Ana, there are other famous people who vacation on these islands,” Jason says. “They could just be… around…”
“No, Jason, they’re not just around unfortunately…”
“How do you know?” Christian snaps at me. I glare up at him and he doesn’t budge, matching my defiance. I turn to Jason.
“I know where your mole is,” I say flatly.
I’ve got everyone’s attention now.
Jason looks up at Christian who’s still acting like an arrogant asshole. Gail takes a seat where she can hear what we’re saying. I ignore my anger and tell Jason what I know.
“He gave me inside information and in return, I gave him a picture and a sound bite.”
“You gave him a what!?” Christian yells.
“A sound bite… and that’s two!” I yell back, glaring at him. He frowns furiously.
“Two times that you have barked at me like a dog! I don’t respond to that, so stop it!” I scream. Christian is clearly taken aback, and I can see him counting behind his sunglasses. Yeah, you better count!
“Ana, what did you say?” Jason asks calmly. I take a deep breath and let it out.
“He asked if I enjoyed my trip, and I said yes and that I was anxious to get home. He told me I looked good after my ordeal and I thanked him and told him it was time to leave as no one keeps Mr. Grey waiting.” I growl his name to illuminate my displeasure at that moment.
“Well, that was the money shot,” Jason said.
“That was better than the money shot, and I know it. It was worth it for the information that I got, and it furthered my agenda.” My voice is sharp and angry.
“Is that exactly what you said?” I hear sharply from my right and I don’t respond. “Answer me, Anastasia. Is that exactly what you said?” I snap my head over to him.
“Yes, Grey, that is exactly what I said! I am not a toddler and I know how to behave on my own in public!” I spit. He throws up his hands and storms into the bedroom. I’m breathing heavily now; he is really pissing me off!
“You might want to call Welch and tell him that your mole is in PR,” I say to Jason, trying to control my voice.
“You’re sure.” It’s more of a statement than a question.
“Well, I wouldn’t bet my ‘fortune’ on it,” I say using the finger quotes, “but I’m usually a good judge of character.” I shoot a look at the closed bedroom door.
“I’ll make a call to Welch to look into this.” Jason stands and walks to the middle section of the plane. I feel them coming—fuck! The son-of-a-bitch acting like a damn child is not going to make me cry! Breathe, Steele, breathe.
“Ana,” I look up at Chuck, who has walked over to me and sat down on the couch, “this may not be the best time for this, but I have to say it.”
“Fire away,” I respond not lifting my head.
“That thing, in the cab, when Mr. Grey expected me to tell him what happened,” he begins, and I nod. “Don’t ever do that to me again.” I can’t protest. I put him in an awkward position, and I know that I did. However, although I understand the err of my ways, this fact is doing nothing to help with the way I’m feeling at this moment.
“I won’t.” I stand up and dash to the bathroom, closing the door and locking it before the tears began to fall. Oh hell! This has to stop. I need to find a way to get my anatomy in order because this whole get-really-pissed-and-cry-like-a-damsel-in-distress thing is not working for me anymore! In the meantime, I take the hand towel, shove it in my mouth, and scream.
A few minutes later, I’m still pissed as hell, I don’t feel any relief, my eyes are swollen, and there’s a knock at the door.
“Ana, you need to come out. They’re ready for takeoff,” Gail’s muffled voice informs me.
“Okay,” I respond, my voice cracking. I wash my face and run some cold water on a face cloth. I emerge from the restroom and don’t make eye contact with anyone. I sit at the farthest table in the back, knowing that Christian would be sitting closer to the front. I buckle myself in, lean my head back on the chair and put the cool face cloth over my eyes. That feels good, though the tears are still falling, and I now have that annoying cry-pant-hiccup thing going on. I try to breathe normally as the plane taxies down the runway to take off.
“Ana, are you okay?” Gail asks, her voice laden with concern.
“Yes I’m fine it’s just adrenaline thank you,” I say all in one breath. If I could just calm down, control my breathing…
After a while, we get the announcement that we can move about the cabin… and I still can’t freaking breathe.
“Is he just going to leave her like that?” Gail says softly, not knowing that I can hear her, I’m sure.
“There’s not much he can do,” Chuck replies, trying to hide his voice as well. “She’s not upset, she pissed. When she gets like that, she can only cry or hit something, and there’s nothing here to hit… but him.”
“Well, maybe she should belt him a time or two,” Gail responds. That wouldn’t help. He’s all pompous and arrogant and pig-headed and stubborn and fragile and vulnerable and beautiful and…
“Um… excuse me… um… Ana… is there something that I can get for you?” I hear Samantha’s kind voice beyond my face cloth.
“Yes, a.. l-large glass… of… o… orange j-juice if you… h-have it.” Oh hell, how many people heard that? Please, God, please… everybody just leave me alone. Let me pull it together.
Moments later, Samantha comes back with the orange juice. “Would you like something to eat?” She’s really very sweet.
“No… not… right now, thank… y-you. I’m… n-not… h-hungry.” Oh, here it comes again. I take my orange juice and escape to the bedroom. No lock on this door. Figures. I drink the entire glass down, quenching my parched throat with a combination of citrus and salty tears. To hell if I’m going to spend the next eight or nine hours trying to not to cry. There’s a small space on the floor in front of the bed. That’s enough room. I need something to hold my feet down… the ridge of the bed frame—only enough room for my toes. That will have to do. I take off my wedges, my bangles, and my earrings. I lie on the floor and jam my feet in the little space at the end of the bed. I clasp my fingers behind my head and start doing sit-ups.
I’m sure I could have told him what was going on before his anger escalated, but he has to learn how to deal with people better than this.
He can’t just go barking at people at will like he’s better than everybody else. I understand that he’s a deckaflackazillionaire, but we’re not all put on this earth to be his minions and he had no right to treat me that way.
He has to learn that there is a way to speak to people and I’ll be damned if I’ll let him treat me like some non-person… like some nobody… like a damn puppy!
Counting is just reminding me that this is not helping me. I have to wear myself out to get this feeling off of me and sit-ups are just not strenuous enough. Pushups might work better, but I don’t have sneakers handy to stiffen my toes. Sit-ups it is…
Maybe if I start singing… I won’t concentrate on the counting. In my head, I start to run down the old faithfuls…
I come home in the morning light
My mother says when you gonna live your life right
Oh mother dear we’re not the fortunate ones
And girls they want to have fun
Oh girls just want to have fun…
She’s into superstitions black cats and voodoo dolls.
I feel a premonition that girl’s gonna make me fall.
She’s into new sensations new kicks in the candle light.
She’s got a new addiction for every day and night…
I know you wanna leave me,
but I refuse to let you go
If I have to beg and plead for your sympathy,
I don’t mind coz’ you mean that much to me
Ain’t too proud to beg, sweet darlin
Please don’t leave me girl, don’t you go…
This is how we do it.
It’s Friday night, and I feel all right
The party is here on the West side
So I reach for my 40 and I turn it up
Designated driver take the keys to my truck
Hit the shore ’cause I’m faded
Honeys in the street say, “Monty, yo we made it…”
Right now, he’s probably slow dancing with a bleached-blond tramp,
and she’s probably getting frisky…
right now, he’s probably buying her some fruity little drink
’cause she can’t shoot whiskey…
Right now, he’s probably up behind her with a pool stick,
showing her how to shoot a combo…
You were my sun
You were my earth
But you didn’t know all the ways I loved you, no
So you took a chance
And made other plans
But I bet you didn’t think that they would come crashing down, no
You don’t have to say, what you did,
I already know, I found out from him …
Once I’ve made my way through the top hit records of the last forty years or so, I’m finally out of breath enough to stop doing sit-ups, and I’m not crying anymore… still angry, but the crying has stop. What did he do with all of my bags, throw them out the window? I look around the room and finally find them piled into the small compartment that I guess is supposed to be a closet. I search through the bags and find the maxi-dress that I bought this morning. My cute shorts and Aztec mock turtleneck are now drenched in sweat and I need to freshen up.
I strip naked, leaving all of my clothes on the floor and step into the en suite. It was my intention to take a sink, bath until I realize that there’s a shower in here! I don’t know how there’s a shower on the plane and I don’t care how there’s a shower on the plane. All I know is… there’s a shower on the plane! I don’t even know how long I stay in there. Hell, how long was I on the floor? I could have been dead for all he knew. I clean myself thoroughly and wash my sweaty hair, then step out of the shower. There are only two towels. Hmm, hope he doesn’t want a damn shower! I wrap myself in one towel and dry my hair with the other. I feel a lot better. Although I’m still wishing the almighty Christian fucking Grey wasn’t such and arrogant asshole, I feel a lot better. I wrap my hair in the towel and step out of the en suite.
I’m trying to figure out what I’m going to do for clean underwear. I could wash mine in the sink and hang them in the restroom like I used to do in college. Will eight hours be long enough for them to dry? Do I still have eight hours? I guess I’ll find out. I begin retrieving my clothes from the floor and just as I get to where my panties are, there are his bare feet. When did he get in here? I didn’t even see him! What the hell? I stand up straight and his face is impassive. Whatever. I turn around and put my sweaty things in the bag that previously held the maxi-dress. Screw the underwear!
“We need to talk,” he says, sternly.
“So, talk,” I respond, still trying to dry the water out of my hair.
“You could have avoided all of this by just telling me what was going on. For Christ’s sake, Anastasia, you call me while we’re in St. Maarten in the middle of a shopping trip telling me that we have to leave now, and you won’t tell me why. What the hell was I supposed to think? You could have handled this better.” I turn to face him with my hands on my hips.
“You should really listen to yourself, because you’re right, I couldn’t have handled things differently… but you, Sir, certainly could have handled things better! I may not have been thinking clearly trying to get us back to the plane before the paparazzi swarmed in on us, but even after you found out what happened, you still acted like an ill-mannered child—a tyrant throwing temper tantrums because he can’t get his way. That may work for you in the boardroom, but that won’t work with me. You can’t ceremoniously treat me like your minion. I’m better than that even if you don’t think so!” I bark, and I’m pissed again.
“I never said that. I know that you’re better than that, and don’t put words in my mouth.” His teeth are gritted. Do I care?
“I’m not putting words in your mouth and you don’t treat me like I’m better than that!” I point out.
“I don’t treat you like one of my minions, Anastasia, and you know that!”
“No? Every time you don’t like something I’ve done, you start yelling or barking at me. It’s like you expect me to heel because you speak. I’ve never been that girl and I’m not going to start being that girl just because I’m with you. So, if that’s what you expect from me, you better get that out of your head right now or go find yourself another girl!”
The words were out of my mouth before I could catch them. I meant that I wasn’t going to be his lapdog, panting and whimpering and heeling to his every command… but by no means did I want him to go find himself another girl. His face registers shock and dismay, and then anger.
“You demeaned me in front of my staff,” he says through clenched teeth.
“So, did you,” I reply in a flat voice.
“You cannot undermine my authority in front of my employees, is that understood?” he snaps.
“Duly noted!” I shoot. “And you cannot disrespect me in front of anybody or at any time, is that understood?” I bark, glaring at him.
“Duly noted!” he barks. In one move he has me pushed up against the closet door, roughly ravaging my mouth. What the hell? My first instinct is to push him off me, but he’s moving so fast I don’t have time to think! He snatches the towel from me and presses his fingers hard into my thighs, his erection unforgiving against my stomach.
Oh, hell… fire!
I hardly have time to prepare myself as he quickly frees his cock from his pants and boxer briefs, effortlessly lifts me by my thighs—parting them on the way—and drops me full force onto the hardest erection I think my pussy has ever felt in my life.
“Aahhh!” I scream and he hisses loudly. I know that they hear us in the plane, but hell—what the hell was I supposed to do?
“Sssshit!” he hisses, digging his fingers into my thighs, holding me steady while he pounds and digs his penis deeply into me. Good God, my head is about to explode.
“Uuuuuuuuggghhhhh!” I groan as he moves at a pace slow enough to burn a hole in me, but hard enough to pound me through the wall.
“Quiet!” he growls in my face.
“No!” I screech back, grabbing handfuls of his hair.
“Fuck!” he growls again, drilling into me and making me dizzy. “Nobody speaks to me that way! You’re driving me insane!”
“You’re a disagreeable asshole!” I breathe, my voice heavy with my pending orgasm.
“I am not!” His voice sounds inhuman and he pounds into me deeper and harder, holding me fast against the wall.
“You are!” I wail, holding on to his hair and pulling it mercilessly. “Oh, God!” I cry.
“Take it back!” the beast roars as he picks up the pace, punishing my pussy more and more.
“No! Ah! NO!” I pant. Any second now…
“I said take it back!” he hisses looking in my eyes.
“I said NO!” I enforce,glaring back at him, my legs beginning to shake. I wrap them around him as much as I can for leverage, but he has a death grip on my thighs.
“I am not disagreeable!” he groans as he sinks his teeth into my neck.
Holy cow! If I’m not squirting on his dick, it sure feels like it! I sink my teeth hard into his shoulder and scream.
“GGAAHH! Come! Shit, Ana! Come!” he grunts, his voice tortured and his body stiffening. I was coming before he said it. He was brick hard and filling every crevice. There was no way I wasn’t coming, but he’s so hard that he can’t feel it.
“I hate it when we fight. I fucking hate it! Aaah aaaah shit! Good God!” He’s pushing into me violently jerking out this orgasm. His dick has expanded so big that it almost hurts inside of me. “Fuck, you are so tight!” No, you’re just hard as hell! Relax, Steele, breathe… fuck, he’s huge! He holds his head back and he’s still jerking out this orgasm. He’s finally getting softer, and I can finally let my breath out. Good Lord, his orgasm had to last something like 30 to 45 seconds… at least! I don’t know how he could still be standing. I look at his shoulder and he has big red teeth marks in his wing. Eh, I’ll tell him about it later.
“What the hell was that?” he asks, breathless.
“I don’t know,” I answer just as breathless. “Angry sex?” He’s kissing my neck and shoulders, his arms holding me up around my waist.
“I guess so,” he responds between kisses and breaths. “It was phenomenal!” he says, resting his head on my shoulder.
“You are a disagreeable asshole,” I say, closing my eyes and trying to breathe.
“I know,” he breathes. “I’m sorry… I’ll work on it…”
I’m sitting on the bed between Christian’s legs and he’s combing the tangles out of my hair with his fingers. We’re naked after joining the Mile-High Club several times in the last couple of hours or so. We haven’t said much because there has been so much sex.
“Your abs are going to hurt like hell,” he says. I look up at him.
“You came in here?” I ask.
“Twice,” he responds. “You were down there for about an hour, maybe more. I had flashbacks of the rogue body bag that week you didn’t speak to me. I had just come in the third time when you came out of the shower.”
I guess I wasn’t thinking about the pain I would endure later, just trying to get rid of the pain that I was feeling at the time. I sigh heavily.
“Well, I’ll just have to do some yoga for the next couple of days.”
We’re quiet again for a moment as Christian begins to braid my hair.
“So, what’s his name?” he asks after a long, long silence.
“How did you know it was a he?”
“They usually are,” he responds, finishing my braid and securing it with a nearby ponytail holder from my earlier ponytail/bun.
“Joshua Shaler.” He thinks for a moment.
“Nope, I’ve never heard of him.”
“You wouldn’t have,” I answer. “He’s hoping that this photo-op is going to put him on the map.”
“What made you choose him?” He’s looking for answers. I understand.
“I didn’t choose him. I just saw him. He was in too many places. Then I saw the camera. I casually made my way over to him. Chuck pinned him. I asked him questions.”
“What types of questions?”
“Like who did he work for and how did he know we were there. He’s freelance and he heard about us on what he called the low-wire. It’s basically back-alley Intel for the paparazzi but not everybody has an in. You have to know someone or know someone who knows someone or have someone inside the camp—usually image consultants or PR.”
“And you believed that, Ana? You believed that and gave this guy a sound bite?” He’s not angry, but his voice portrays disbelief.
“Christian, who knew we were coming down here? Elliot called me on Monday because he didn’t even remember.”
“Why did Elliot call you?” he asked. I smack my lips at him.
“Why do you think? Anyway, it’s not important. What is important is that our trip was on a need-to-know basis. Who knew?” I could see the wheels turning in his head. “Your family, my assistant, my friends, your security staff and PR. My little gang of friends has been my little gang of friends for many years. They have no reason to betray me. Marilyn is my right hand—I trust her with my life. Your family… need I even address that? You told me that you cleared everyone on your security staff. That leaves PR. It fits right in with what Joshua told me. If it’s a lie, then that’s okay too because it fits in with my agenda… girl next door gets screwed by rich community and psycho ex-boyfriend who now wants to try to claim insanity. It’s a win-win, Christian. If you hadn’t been huffing at me like a raging bull, I would have had a chance to tell you that.” He’s quiet for a while. “And… by the way… I don’t want you to go find yourself another girl,” I say softly, dropping my head, recalling the words I spit at him in a fit of anger. He lifts my chin to look up and back at him.
“That would be impossible,” he says. “There’s no other girl for me.” He slowly and gently closes his lips over mine. I love this man, but he has to get a handle on his knee-jerk reactions. One minute he’s growling at me trying to get answers and watching me turn into a ball of tears and goo. The next minute he’s screwing me like a damn caveman, stretching my poor lady parts further than they’ve ever been stretched before. Damn, that was hot! I wonder what was going on there! Now, he’s saying these wonderful things to me, making my heart want to burst. I feel like a freaking yo-yo!
“Um, I have a question,” I say when he pulls his lips back from mine.
“What is it?” He’s cautious now.
“This time… against the closet, it was… different.” I say shyly. His brow furrows.
“Damn straight it was different, but what do you mean?” he asks.
“Well…” I can’t believe I’m timid about this. I made the man come six times two nights ago—once with a vibrator! Spit it out, Steele.
“I know that the fact that it was angry sex made it more intense, but you were rock solid and huge… and you came hard and long! It’s just never been like that before.”
“I’ve never had angry sex before,” he says, impassively and that causes me to do a double-take.
“Are you… serious?” I ask in disbelief.
“Ana, I’ve never had any relationships of any real merit. All I’ve ever had were subs. If I was angry in the boardroom, I exercised my control and took it out on a sub. If I was angry at a sub, she often got a beating and a punishment fuck and then the contract was terminated. You’re standing there naked under a towel all defiant and ‘respect me’ and ‘you’re a disagreeable asshole’ and I just wanted to plunder your body. You were all sexy and angry and squirming and the more of you I had, the more of you I wanted. When I tried to quiet you and you said ‘no,’ I thought my dick was going to shoot off. Then you’re glaring at me and pulling my hair—shit! I didn’t stand a fucking chance!”
“You!?” I say in disbelief. “You didn’t stand a chance? Christian, I thought you were digging for buried treasure! You were hitting everywhere and digging hard and deep… my whole body was burning! I felt like a damn virgin!”
“Oh, come on, Ana. That’s a bit extreme.”
“The fuck it is!” I exclaim. “You slammed into me with no warning. You’re holding me up by my thighs, dragging that thing in and out of me… and the more you dragged, the harder you got. The way you were holding me, I was helpless! I couldn’t move my legs or my hips, so I couldn’t even adjust myself in case there was a better angle. I had to hang there and take it exactly how you were giving it and you were deliberate! You were driven by your fury and your nature was out of control. I’m getting wet again just thinking about it.”
“Oh, are you now?” he says, his hands traveling up to my telltale taut nipples.
“Oh, no,” I scold. “You keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Grey. This is a mental response. The coochie is out of commission!” He laughs at me.
“Angry sex is kind of hot,” he says, kissing my neck.
“Angry sex is very hot, but getting there is hell!” I point out. He nods.
“You’re right.” He kisses my shoulder. “I hate when we fight.”
“So, do I,” I say, reaching behind me to tangle my fingers in his hair.
“I wish I could say I won’t do it again,” he says solemnly, still planting gentle kisses on my neck, my shoulders, my cheek, my ear… I sigh as I lean back into him.
“Don’t say it, because you don’t want to lie to me,” I say, softly. “If we plan to spend forever with one another, there are going to be fights that are a lot worse than this.” His arms close around my waist and he pulls me against him.
“I look forward to forever, but not the fighting,” he says huskily into my ear.
“I look forward to it all… every single moment with you… good or bad; I don’t care, as long as I get to spend it with you.”
“Oh, Ana!” He crushes me against him, my back to his front, and I can’t move. His face is buried in my neck and I whimper from the strength of his passion. It washes through me with unbelievable force and snatches my breath away. I turn my face to his and he assaults me with deep, bruising, hungry kisses. Oh, Christian, baby… you make every part of me sing! He breaks his lips away from mine and continues kissing any part of my body that he can reach.
“Butterfly…” he breathes between kisses. “I need you… I need you so much, baby… you make the monsters go away…”
The monsters… I make the monsters go away. He is such a tortured soul, and I love him so much. I remember that dream that I had… it seems so long ago now… the dream where he was being torn in two, and he needed me to save him. Then there was the dream that he had at his parents’ house—the one where he could hear me talking to him and he responded, and I actually pulled him out of the dream. I scare the monsters away. That’s a big responsibility, but one that I’ll gladly take on… for him… only for him.
“I love you so much, Christian… so much…” I breathe, and he’s kissing me tenderly again and I close my eyes and lean into his love.
Our make-out session is interrupted by a knock on the door. Oh… wow… seriously? “Scoot back on the bed, Butterfly. He wouldn’t knock unless it was important.” Christian slips into his jeans while I slide out of sight on the bed. I hear a brief exchange between Taylor and him before he comes back into the room.
“Get dressed, Butterfly. We need to have a little meeting,” Christian says, taking off his jeans and stepping into his boxer briefs.
“Is something wrong?” I ask, pulling the gray, yellow, black and red Gracia colorblock maxi-dress over my head.
“I don’t know yet… where’s your underwear?”
“Dirty and sweating in that bag. No way in hell I’m putting those things back on,” I say. He rolls his eyes and quickly dons his jeans and T-shirt. “Christian, what’s going on?” I say calmly, so as not to start another fight. He opens the door and takes my arm.
“You’ve made your début.”
We all sit at one of the tables watching Jason’s iPad and the article on the “Seattle Speaks” website of “Unbreakable Anastasia Steele” shopping on the island of St. Maarten. It was cut and dried with just the posted video, nothing added or taken away except for a picture of Joshua Shaler and a catchy caption about my shopping. Everyone is quiet waiting for my reaction and all I say is, “That was fast. How the hell did he do it so quickly?”
“All he needs is a buyer. That video was probably posted before we took off,” Jason says, and now everyone’s quiet again. This time I think they’re waiting for Christian’s response.
“Um, okay,” I break the silence. “Maybe I’m new to this and there’s something that I don’t understand, so I need someone to tell me why everyone’s looking so somber because this doesn’t really look like a bad thing to me. The video is posted just as I said it; there’s no bad spin on it of any kind… did I miss something?”
“No, baby, you didn’t. It’s fine. For now, the worst of it is that we probably won’t be able to get back into Escala when we get back to Seattle. They know who you are, and they all want a piece of you… just to get a piece of me.” I know he’s telling the truth about that. “You might be facing another problem though.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“You’re a psychiatrist in downtown Seattle. Are your patients going to want to go through throngs of paparazzi to get to you?” he asks. Shit, I didn’t think of that.
“Well, it would have been the case anyway, wouldn’t it?” Gail asks. “I mean, getting her from the hospital was a 10-man operation.”
“Yes, you’re correct about that. We just need to figure out what to do from here,” Christian says.
“I say we give them what they want,” I say flatly. Christian looks over at me.
“Baby, are you loving the camera?” he teases, and I laugh.
“No, darling, the camera loves me,” I say fluttering my eyelashes, “but seriously, that’s not my point. Everybody is clamoring to see Christian Grey’s girlfriend and get the inside scoop. Once they get it, then I’m not front-page news anymore. So, I say we give it to them on our terms—and soon, because I won’t be able to get into my office until we do.”
“Um, Ana… forgive my forwardness, please but… when do you plan on going back to work?” Chuck asks.
“I had planned on going in on Wednesday, but now that all depends. Why?”
“Because… ugh…” He sighs. “You’ve got teeth marks on your neck!” he spits out.
“Oh, shit!” I completely forgot about the vampire sex Christian and I just had. Everybody turns to look at Christian.
“Hey, don’t look at me like that. I’ve got them too!” Christian defends.
“I don’t see them,” Jason says.
“That’s because they’re not on my neck.”
“Whoa! TMI! TMI!” Jason barks.
“You sick bastard! They’re on my shoulder!” Christian scolds. I’m laughing almost to the point of tears at this exchange.
“Okay, okay,” I break the banter through my laughter. “While Mr. Grey and I try to learn to keep our teeth to ourselves, I’ll raid my closet for scarves and mock turtlenecks to camouflage the carnage for a while.”
“Nonsense, the tea that you never used in Anguilla will have that cleared up in a couple of days, tops.” Gail interjects. Damn… I forgot about the magic tea!
“Okay, so we’ve solved the horny-teenager-hickey situation. What’s next?” I say, trying to move the conversation past this particular topic.
“Um… sir?” Jason’s voice sounds a little incredulous as he vies for Christian’s attention. We all look at him looking at his phone and then up at an expectant Mr. Grey. “It’s Alex… I mean, Welch, sir… he found the mole!”
Ana’s exercise medley:
Cindi Lauper—Girls Just Wanna Have Fun
Ricky Martin—Livin’ La Vida Loca
The Temptations—Aint Too Proud to Beg
Montell Jordan—This Is How We Do It
Carrie Underwood—Before He Cheats
Justin Timberlake—Cry Me A River
There were more in her workout, but that’s enough song lyrics…
Don’t forget the Pinterest page at http://www.pinterest.com/ladeeceo/paging-dr-steele-the-trip-to-anquilla/.
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