I do not own Fifty Shades Trilogy or the characters. They belong to E. L. James. I am only exercising my right to exploit, abuse, and mangle the characters to MY discretion in MY story in MY interpretation as a fan. I hope you—as a fellow fan—enjoy it, too.
Chapter 4—I Belong To Anastasia Grey
Much to our delight, the sales clerk that approaches us turns out to be the owner of the boutique. She closes up shop for an hour to let us peruse in peace. After we autograph the article for both ladies—which I find extremely ridiculous—Butterfly and the customer now held a willing captive go crazy on baby items and accessories. After a whole hour of “Isn’t this adorable” and “Oh my God, that’s so cute,” I am more than ready to leave this place. The shopping spree went off without incident and I got my precious cargo and our haul back to the SUV in one piece. I’m more than ready to eat when Butterfly suggests dinner at Canlis.
“Butterfly, go on in with Charles and get us a table,” I tell her when we get to the restaurant. “I have to make a call before it gets too late. I promise I won’t be long.”
“Duty calls,” she says with a smile. “Remember, you promised.” She’s shaking her finger at me and I kiss it tenderly before she exits the car. Once she and Charles are inside, I pull out the burner.
“I can’t say that this is a surprise,” Cholometes says after I identify myself. “I’ve been watching your little bread crumbs all over the goddamn mainframe.”
“Spare me your shit, Cholometes,” I hiss. “The only reason we’re talking right now is because I know that you’re not involved, because if you were, my men would be down there fucking you up right now.”
“They’d have to find me first,” he says snidely.
“They already have. Would you like a ping to your current location?” I nod at Jason and he texts Welch who quickly works his magic and Cholometes gets a notification on his fancy computing machine that tells him we know exactly where he is.
“Very good. Congratulations. Now why the fuck are you calling me?”
“Because I need people with special skills that you can get a hold of quickly. My guy needs a second—that means you.” He scoffs.
“You must be crazy to think I would help you!”
“No, I’m not, because I’m married to someone that you hold very dear. I know what kind of power she has over you because she has the same power over me. If I get hurt, she gets hurt, and you know that. You don’t want that any more than I do, so you are going to help me.”
“I fucking hate you, Grey!” he hisses.
“No you don’t,” I counter. “You don’t know me well enough to hate me. You hate that I have the woman you love and that’s why you’re going to help me.”
“Why should I? All I have to do is wait for your ‘House of Steel’ to fall down and then swoop in and come to the rescue,” he says, throwing my words back at me that I served him during our confrontation before the wedding.
“Yep, you could do that, except there’s one thing standing in your way. Anastasia loves me. I’ve made preparations so that no matter what happens to me and my ‘House of Steel,’ Ana will be very well taken care of. No matter if she is—or we are—living off my stashed away millions, once she finds out that you could have prevented any catastrophe in our lives and you refused because you were waiting for the opportunity to weasel into her life and her bed, how close do you think you’ll be able to get to her? Do you think she’ll really want anything to do with you? Now I need black ops. If you’ve been following my breadcrumbs, you know who my guy is. Yes or no?” There’s a long pause before he sighs and mumbles “Fucking Helen of Troy.”
“I’ll help you this time, Grey, but don’t you ever fucking come to me for help again,” he threatens. “I could watch you die slowly and never give a shit, but you’re right about one thing. I do love Ana. This will be the one gimme that you get from me and only because of her, but understand this. If you go down, I’m coming to get her and I don’t give a fuck what you tell her. So whatever this is, don’t fuck up!”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” I look at Jason. “Get Welch on the line. Tell him to call Colostomy.” I turn my attention back to the phone. “Your other line should be ringing soon. Answer it.” In a few seconds, his line rings and he disconnects the call without a word. I could do with or without the guy, but I know that he has the connections that Welch needs. Having one guy with those connections is fantastic, but the deeper you go in, the more validation you need—and I need answers. I need them before my children are born and I don’t have time to play games. I get out of the car and straighten my jacket.
“Sir,” Jason gets my attention before I walk into the restaurant. “You might want to wipe the sneer off your face before you see your wife.”
Oh shit! He’s right. The last thing I want to do is have to explain this conversation to the lovely Anastasia. I nod at him and do my countdown. Just when I’m calming, the burner buzzes in my pocket. It’s a text from Cholometes.
**How do you think Ana would feel if I told her about your little operation?**
This is why I didn’t want this asshole in the loop. I return his text from the burner.
**Who’s Ana and who is this?**
Now I have to wait for a moment to play this little game with him when I promised Butterfly that I wouldn’t be long.
**Don’t play games with me, Grey. Just remember I have one more ace in my pocket against you with this piece of information.**
Does he really think I’m that stupid that I would leave myself wide open without being able to take him down with me? I’ll let him know he’s wrong later. Right now, I have a beautiful woman waiting for me.
**Sir or Madam, I think you have entered the wrong number. I’m not Gray and I don’t know who Ana is, so please check the number you’re texting.**
I deliberately misspell my name to throw him off the track. I wait for two more minutes for the text that I know is coming.
**That’s okay, Grey. I know you’ve got my message.**
Now to fuck with him. Of course, you’ve got the right number, but check in your phone to see what number you have for me.
**Fine. Okay. Have it your way. I’m Gray. I got your message. Will you please stop texting me now?**
It takes a little longer for him to respond this time, but he does.
**This isn’t Christian Grey?**
I’m laughing like a kid.
**Christian Grey? Are you serious? Is this some kind of joke? Bill, if this is you, I’m kicking your ass when I see you, dickwad!***
He’s really mulling over who he’s talking to, now.
**Sorry. I did text the wrong number.**
One more little jab…
**Sure you did, Bill. I’m kicking your ass when I see you. I’m blocking you from my phone now, you fucking jerk!**
Jason has parked the car and has joined me at the door of Canlis. “Whatever you did, it worked. You’re grinning like a mule!” I laugh and pat him on the back.
“Let’s go join my wife.” I say as I take the battery out of the burner.
“Well, it still took a long time, but not as long as I thought,” she says when I sit next to her.
“I’m sorry, I just have to call in some extra hands on the issue we’ve been discussing, and it couldn’t wait.”
“Well, I have you for dinner, so no harm, no foul.” I kiss her hand and slide into the booth next to her. I pull her close to me.
“I don’t like keeping secrets from you…” She tries to turn to look at me, but I hold her still. “This hacker situation is about to come to a head. I’m sure of it. There are certain situations that will need delicate handling, for lack of a better word, and I had to call someone for help.” She sighs.
“Who?” she says, calmly.
“Cholometes.” She does a mini-bobble-head and turns to face me.
“Brian!?” she hisses violently, but quietly. “Christian! What if he’s the one behind all of this?” And she has shocked me again.
“Do you think he could be doing this?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
“Of course, he could!” she snaps. “Before I met you, he was my Alex Welch!” She’s angrier that she thinks I didn’t suspect Cholometes than she is that I contacted him.
“Yes, but what could he gain from it? You’re my wife. If he hurts me, he hurts you.” She ponders the thought for a moment.
“Yeah, there is that,” she says with uncertainty. “Maybe he has some skewed idea that he can rescue me when the shit all falls. I don’t know. I’m just trying to cover all bases. Maybe I’m being ridiculous.” She takes a sip of her water.
“You’re not being ridiculous, Baby. You’re being logical, sensible, and wise, and that’s one of the reasons I love you so much.” I turn her face to me, lift her chin and kiss her gently. “We’ve thought of all of these contingencies and he was cleared before I called him, but I know that he would love nothing more than to see me fail so that he can be the hero and save the day. I know how he feels, Ana. I’m so hopelessly in love with you that I will do anything—and I do mean anything—to keep you safe and to be able to love you. I know how it feels to be so crazy in love that nothing else is more important than that person. I don’t like the guy because he wants what’s mine, but I understand how he feels.” She strokes my cheek gently.
“Then I feel extremely bad for him,” she says softly, “because if he were so foolish as to do something like that, he would find that it would all be for nothing. He would find that I am totally and completely devoted to you and incurably in love with you. He would find that I intend to be Mrs. Grey until I breathe my last breath, and there’s nothing that he could do to change that.” She kisses me softly. “Absolutely nothing.”
“I love you so much,” I tell her while gazing into her eyes. “Please forgive me if I ever made you feel otherwise.”
“Only if you forgive me,” she whispers, molding her body as close to mine as she can in the booth.
“Then we forgive each other,” I whisper back.
“We forgive each other,” she agrees before kissing me deeply. I momentarily forget where we are and indulge in one of the most passionate public displays of affection we’ve ever had, and we’ve had a few. We’re interrupted by the gentleman at the next table clearing his throat. I raise my head to make sure it’s not Jason.
“Shut up and kiss your date,” I say matter-of-factly, causing Butterfly to giggle and a few other guys at other tables to actually kiss their dates.
Dinner was magnificent—artichokes and foie Gras, Muscovy duck and crème brûlée. I don’t think we ate a bite off our own forks. The entire time, I just remember thinking that I could spend the entire night just gazing into her lovely eyes. When we get back to Escala, we spend the rest of the evening in front of the fire, nude, making the connection that we first made in Greece. We hadn’t done it in so long and it was so necessary. There was no sex, just our connection, and it was different this time—so much more powerful—because there were two other souls involved. By the time it was over, we were waterlogged from crying, exhausted, and content. We fell asleep right there on the floor in the Great Room.
We’re awakened on Sunday morning by Jason clearing his throat. This time, it is Jason. I’m wrapped around Butterfly and we’re both wrapped in the throw from the sofa. The fire is still going and I almost hate to know why he woke us.
“What is it?” I say in my morning voice.
“We have company, Sir?” he says.
“Brian Cholometes.” My eyes widen.
“He’s here?” I ask in dismay.
“He’s downstairs, Sir.” Shit. He’s making good on his threat to tell Butterfly about our plan. I gently rouse her. She stretches and I cover her breast before she exposes one of them.
“Baby, we’ve got company.”
“Hmmm?” she raises her head. “Oh, hi Jason. Sorry about that.”
“No, Baby, Cholometes is downstairs.” She takes a moment to focus her eyes.
“What?” she says uncertainly. “What time is it?” I look over at Jason.
“It’s about eight o’clock, Sir,” he says after looking at his watch.
“Eight o’clock on a Sunday morning!?” Butterfly exclaims sleepily. “He doesn’t even live in Seattle. This better be important!” Without thinking, she throws the blanket off her naked body, jumps up and marches nude to the bedroom. The entire time, Jason is trying to shield his eyes and look anywhere but at Butterfly.
“She’s pissed,” I say to Jason. He swallows.
“I think she is,” he replies.
“Did you see anything?”
“Just the stomach, Sir.”
“That’s the best part!” I bark.
“Well, you might want to turn your head, because I’m about to do the same thing.” I throw the blanket off of me and march toward the bedroom. “Leave everything where it is and let that asshole in.”
When I get to the bedroom, Butterfly is already in the shower. I’ll take one later. I don’t want this asshole wandering around my home while I’m indulging in Butterfly kisses. I grab a pair of black jeans and a T-shirt and come back to the Great Room just in time to see him examining our clothes from yesterday strewn about and our makeshift bed on the floor in front of the still-crackling fireplace.
“What are you doing here?” I say, walking over to where he and Jason are standing.
“I bet you had fun with that little cell phone gag, didn’t you… Bill?” he answers.
“Again, I ask, why are you in my home?”
“Just wanted to discuss some things about our little arrangement.” And hopefully get a glimpse of my wife.
“We don’t have an arrangement,” I tell him. “You can talk to Welch. You don’t have to speak to me at all and you certainly don’t need to be in my home.”
“Afraid Ana will find out exactly what you’re up to?” he says. “Tell me, why would you put yourself in this position? I’m sure she wouldn’t approve of your tactics. Even if you come out of this with your hands squeaky clean, I still have that bit of information to hold over you. Black Ops is no small deal, Mr. Grey.”
“Did you think I would come to you and expose myself that way without having something equally as damaging on you?” I say calmly.
“What could you possibly have on me?” he says in a disbelieving tone.
“Did you forget you declared war on me right after our engagement was announced? That you stood at a bar at a wedding that I hosted and told me that you had every intention of taking my then-girlfriend from me? Did you honestly think that I would call the man who covets my most prized possession for help and not have a bargaining chip or an ace in the hole besides the fact that you’re in love with my wife? I mean, seriously, have we met?” I can see the wheels turning as he ponders these questions and I close the space between us.
“I hate to burst your bubble, Brian, but I’ve already told her.” It’s a partial truth. “I leave no stone unturned. Everybody had to be cleared of involvement in this situation, including my own staff… and my wife. She wasn’t allowed into Grey House for about a month.” These is all half-truths, but it works out to my advantage. “If you don’t believe me, ask her yourself. My head of IT almost lost his job for erroneously announcing that she could have been involved with all of this.”
“How do you know she’s not?” he goads.
“Oh, lots of ways, the least of which is that she’ll get more if she divorces me than this asshole will every hope to see. Also not so important on the list is that she has been checked out, and she’s clean. But the most important thing is that she loves me, and I know it, beyond a shadow of a doubt. All of the checking was just to satisfy the rest of the parties involved. Ana’s mine, heart and soul. She knows that if she wants it, she can have it. She doesn’t have to steal it, but she loves me so much that she won’t even consider it. Any other questions?”
“You’re awfully sure of yourself,” he says.
“Oh, no, no, no. I’m sure of her,” I respond. “Now again, I ask…”
“Christian, I’m having a horrible time managing this and it’s getting on my nerves. Can you do it for me, please?”
Before I can get the words out of my mouth, Butterfly comes breezing into the Great room. She’s wearing this beautiful sheer blue maxi dress that halters around her neck and makes it look like she’s floating. Her hair is still wet and she’s carrying a small towel. She looks frustrated.
“What’s wrong, Baby?” I say, frowning.
“This!” she says, pointing to her hair. “I’m just trying to braid it, but I can’t seem to get it right and I’m getting more and more irritated.” Even grumpy and irritated, she looks delicious. Her skin has regained that pregnancy glow and that swollen body has “Christian Grey” written all over it. I gesture for her to come to me and turn around so that I can braid her hair.
“Why are you so irritated, Ana?” Cholometes chimes in, looking for an opportunity to start some discord. When Butterfly gets over to me, I see that her waist-length hair is sticking to her bare back as this dress drops all the way down to just above her ass. It’s decent, but only just. The garden is on full display, and from the looks of it. She’s not wearing a bra or any underwear. My wife is smoking fucking hot!
“We were up late last night,” she says. “I thought we would have the opportunity to sleep in, but I guess duty calls.” There’s no salt in her voice, but you can tell that she’s not really happy about having her sleep disturbed.
“I’m sorry for breaking your rest, Ana. I only needed Christian. I didn’t need for you to wake up.”
“I had to wake up,” she retorts. “I’m more comfortable when he’s next to me. Besides, we were sleeping right there.” She points to the pile of pillows and the throw that made our makeshift bed. Even my boxers and her bra and panties are still in clear view. I’ve just finished her super-long braid and secured it with a ponytail holder when she takes to straightening our mess.
“Butterfly, I’ll do that,” I try to stop her and start picking up our clothes.
“I’m fine, Christian. I’m pregnant, not incompetent!” She shoots. Then she freezes and turns around to me. “I’m sorry,” she says, putting her hand on my cheek. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
“It’s okay, Baby,” I say, turning to kiss her hand. “I know you wanted to rest.” She smiles at me and picks up the pillows to arrange them on the sofa.
“So, Brian, we haven’t seen you in a while… well, I haven’t. How are you?” she asks.
“I’m doing well, thank you. Ray and Amanda came down to Montesano last weekend and brought little Harry. He’s a big boy.”
“Yes, he is, and handsome just like his father,” she says with a smile. I’ve finished gathering our things and she holds her hands out to take them. “So what brings you here on a Sunday morning? Usually, when someone shows up on Sunday morning, it’s bad news. Has something gone wrong with the operation?”
Whoa! She cut right to the chase. I almost want to laugh. If he tells her the whole story, I’ll just deal with it.
“You… know about this?” he asks incredulously. She frowns.
“Of course, I do!” she says like it’s obvious. “This is our life! His life’s work, our children’s safety. He was remiss to tell me at first and I understand why, but I know now and he’s been thoroughly chastised. So what part do you play in all of this?” A small smile forms on his face. He knows that she doesn’t know about his role in this, but what she says next shocks us both.
“Since for years you were my Alexander Welch, I’m assuming that it’s something pretty big. I’m under no misconception about how the two of you feel about one another. So if you chose to bury the hatchet over this, it must be quite necessary. Because I’m well aware of your capabilities from the stories Daddy used to tell me—what he could anyway—if this is something dark and scary, I don’t want to know about it. I trust my husband’s judgment, and with him, you, and his security team on this, I know whatever it is, you’ll take care of it. Am I right?”
She looks him dead in the eye and waits for his answer. She took the wind right out of his sails without me having to say a word. I think she still believes he may have something to do with this whole thing. If she does, or even if she doesn’t, she just put him on notice.
“Of course, Ana,” he says softly. “We’ll take care of everything.” Yeah, sure, of course we will. I roll my eyes. “Something wrong there, Christian?”
“You tell me,” I say folding my arms. “You’re the one here on a Sunday morning.”
“I’m going to go and put these in the hamper,” Butterfly says, kissing my cheek. He watches her walk away and I know he’d throw her over his shoulder and carry her out of here if he could.
“Did you make her do that?” he snaps.
“Do what?” I hiss back.
“That tattoo on her back! That must have been agony!”
“She had that tattoo the last time you saw her!” I retort. “And don’t you fucking dare try to call me to task on what’s going on with my wife. If I did or didn’t make her do that, it’s none of your goddamn business!” We’re glaring at each other when Butterfly comes back into the room.
“Um… did I interrupt something? I can leave.” She turns to leave.
“Not a thing,” I reply. “A hiccup in the operation, although I think we’ve gotten it under control, or am I mistaken?” I shoot the question at him.
“No,” he says flatly. “Welch and I have secured the necessary resources. Just let us know when and where you’ll need them.”
“How much notice?” I nearly hiss.
“The more, the better, but six hours should be enough,” he says, his facial expression never changing.
“You could have relayed this message through Welch,” I inform him. “What’s the reason for coming to my home on a Sunday morning?”
“As you know, certain things need to be relayed in a certain manner, which is why you called me from a burner yesterday.” Shit, if he knew it was a burner, won’t our Wonder Asshole know, too? “Don’t piss your little panties, Grey. Your guy knows what he’s doing. I knew because it was you and that’s not your number. The whole ‘Bill’ thing was a nice touch, too.”
“Bill?” Butterfly asks.
“Just a little private joke we had at the end of our call,” I tell her.
“Anyway, I needed to discuss some things with Welch. Setting up the resources required in-person contact. Since I was in the neighborhood, I thought I would drop by and bring you up to date as well as see how Ana was doing.”
“You could’ve called, or waited until a more reasonable hour,” I tell him.
“Well, he’s here now,” Butterfly says, giving the sofa pillows one final fluff and turning off the fireplace. “The last time you two were together, you were pissing all over each other, talking about breadcrumbs and stuff. Speaking of which, I’m hungry. What would you like for breakfast?” she says to me.
“You’re cooking?” I ask. She nods. “You know you don’t have to. I’m sure Gail would be…”
“Christian…” she interrupts me in her scolding tone. I hold my hands up in surrender. “You know I love to cook and weekends are the only opportunity I get to do it unless I kick Gail out of her kitchen. I’m not that pregnant yet, Mr. Grey, now what do you want for breakfast?” There’s my Butterfly.
“Surprise me. I want something delicious and different.” She ponders the thought for a few moments.
“I think I can accommodate that,” she says before kissing me on the nose and floating off towards the kitchen. “Brian, have you had breakfast?”
“Yes, I have, thank you, Ana.”
“I can’t coax you into staying to have a real meal? I know you had some fast food or something. It’s too early for you to have eaten a proper meal.” You can coax him into anything, Butterfly. He’s salivating where he’s sitting. I smile inwardly. I’m loving every minute of it.
“Go on and set another place, Butterfly,” I say to her. “I’m sure Brian would love to taste what you’re cooking.” I turn my gaze to him and smirk.
“That’s it. The man of the house has spoken. You’re staying. I promise it won’t take long. You guys can actually go to the table if you like.” Off to the kitchen she goes. I know this Ana. She has something to prove. I wonder if Cholometes knows this Ana.
Okay, so Brian’s here on a Sunday morning. Something bad or big is happening. I’ll ask Christian about it later. I hope this isn’t another pissing contest. I think “due in February” pretty much has me marked.
I set the table for three and quickly put a carafe of orange juice and a pitcher of ice water on the table and summon the boys again.
“Sit down,” I scold them. “You’re making me nervous standing there at the door. Why didn’t you come in and sit down in the first place? Are you expecting Green Berets to come swinging through the glass wall?” They both freeze and look at each other… and I don’t like this.
I examine them for a moment, then turn around and silently go back to the kitchen. Suddenly, I’m afraid. What are they doing that requires collaboration between Brian and Alex? Are we really in some kind of danger? Christian comes into the kitchen and reads my face.
“It really is something like that, isn’t it?” I ask.
“Nobody’s coming here, Ana…” he begins.
“You know what I’m asking!” My voice is shaking and I’m ready to blow.
“Yes, Baby, it is.” I brush past him before the words are out of his mouth. “Ana!” I march right up to Mr. Cholometes and get in his face. I know what he wants and he needs to know how I feel.
“Swear to me that you’ll keep my husband safe!” I shoot at him. He frowns at me. He’s shocked, I think.
“I’m fine, Butterfly…” Christian tries to interject.
“He’s not in any danger,” Brian retorts.
“Swear!” I yell. “On our friendship! On my father! On your life! Swear you’ll keep him safe!” I’m losing it. I’m feeling hysterical. I don’t trust him right now and if something happens to my husband…
“Ana… I…” He’s not swearing. He’s not swearing.
“Swear to me!” I scream. “If anything happens to him, I’ll never forgive you!” I hear Jason’s voice and hurried footsteps somewhere behind us. I’m shaking. I feel the fury and the fear rising in me faster than I can control it. “Swear to me, goddamnit!” I scream shaking my fists and stomping my bare feet. “Swear to me!”
“I’ll keep him safe, Ana,” he vows. “Nothing’s going to happen to him, I swear.” I hear the words and my resolve collapses. I spin around and wrap my arms around Christian’s neck at tight as I can. I’m crying from my chest. It’s painful. Nothing can happen to him. He can’t leave me. Oh, God, please! Please!
“Is this what you wanted?” Christian asks him coldly, lifting me into his arms.
“You know I didn’t want this,” he shoots back.
“But this is what you got! You wanted her to know. Now, she knows. She knew everything else, but she didn’t know this. Now, she knows. Are you happy now?” There’s silence for a moment. “Is this what you want? Because this is what you’ll get if something happens to me!”
“No! No!” I weep into his neck, holding on tight and praying that this whole conversation is rhetorical.
“You can’t break this, Brian. Try though you may, you can’t break it. Hate me all you want. Come at me with all you’ve got. Help me or don’t, but I love her… and she loves me. I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted. It was never personal. I just love her. She’s my everything. And as you can see, she loves me. You can’t break this.” There’s no malice in his voice, just earnestness. He holds me firmly and tries to quiet me gently. His warm breath on my neck calms me a bit.
“Ana,” Brian’s voice is right behind me, “he’ll be safe. Nothing’s going to happen to him. I… I couldn’t do that to you and your children. I swear he’ll be safe. You have my word.”
“Thank… you…” I weep, still clinging to my man, my love, my lifeline.
“I should leave,” he says, calmly. “I’m sorry I bothered you.” I hear the familiar clicking of expensive shoes across the marble before the door opens and closes. Christian takes me to the sofa and sits down with me on his lap.
“I love you… I love you… I love you…” I repeat between shuddering breaths. I can’t lose him. I’ll die if I lose him…
“Ssshh, it’s okay, Baby,” he soothes, but it’s not okay. It’s not okay until they catch this fucker and I know it. I’m having flashbacks of that psycho blonde pulling the trigger in his office and me thinking I had lost my love.
“No… no…” I weep, pulling him closer. I know I must be choking him, but I can’t help it. I can’t let him go. He might get hurt.
“Call my mom. Tell her Ana’s having a panic attack and I don’t know how to make it stop.” A panic attack. That’s what this is. How do I stop it? Are things really as bad as I’m thinking they are? Yes! Yes, they are!
I can’t stop crying. I want to stop, but I can’t. My body is getting exhausted. Moments later—or minutes or hours, I don’t know—someone pushes an ear bud into my ear.
“Ana? Ana, can you hear me?” It’s Grace. Her voice is soothing.
“Ye-ye-yes,” I manage to get out.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” she coaches.
“Chr-Christian… not… s-safe,” I choke.
“Christian’s not safe?” she asks.
“N-no,” I stutter.
“Why is Christian not safe?”
“B-bad p-p-people.” I’m really getting tired now.
“Listen to me, Ana. Christian is fine. He has a lot of people to protect him.” They didn’t protect him before. That crazy bitch shot Jason. She almost killed him. If I hadn’t been there…
“Shot… she… sh-shot J-J-Jason!”
“Oh shit! Mom, she’s having a flashback.”
“What brought this on?” Grace asks.
“Some issues at work. Nobody’s pulling a gun on me, but it’s enough to be a little scary.” Part of me is wondering how we can both hear her. He pulls the ear bud from my ear and talks to his mother. I’m tired now. I can’t stay awake. Am I fainting or falling asleep? Maybe both. Before I slip into whatever state of unconsciousness claims me, I hear him say, “I love you, too, Mom.”
I awake on his lap, still in the same position I fell asleep in. His arms are still around me and the fire is back on. His head is resting on the back of the sofa and he’s fast asleep, too.
He’s here. He’s safe. I’m feeling remnants of the fear I felt before I fell asleep, but nothing as detrimental as before. His rhythmic breathing comforts me and I straddle him, laying my head on his shoulder. He shifts his arms around my waist, but goes right back to his slumber. He looks so peaceful. His hair has grown a bit again and it falls back on the sofa, giving me a full unobstructed view of his face.
He’s beautiful. He takes my breath away.
I put my nose on his neck and inhale his scent deeply. Instant calm and relief flood my body and I indulge in another deep inhale. My lips replace my nose and I kiss his beautiful neck, again and again. He stirs a bit in his sleep, and then moans. I replace the loving pecks with open-mouthed kisses, tasting his skin and inhaling his scent. He groans in his chest as I continue to taste his neck. His arms tighten around my waist and I raise my head to look at him. Sleepy, lustful gray eyes examine me curiously.
“Don’t move,” I whisper, and he’s stock still. While still gazing into his eyes, I bite his chin and run my tongue along his stubble. He gasps and his breathing changes. His mouth is open and he’s panting. I remember that he likes a little pain with his pleasure. My lips travel down to his neck and I sink my teeth into the soft flesh there. He stifles a cry, but gasps loudly, panting profusely and now balling his fists to keep from moving them.
I reach under his shirt and rake my nails down his chest. Again, he stifles a cry, but just barely this time. Without our usual tools, I have to improvise. I pull his shirt from his pants and examine his chest. Faint red welts are rising where I scratched him. I lick a bruise and stop at his nipple, lathing it with my tongue before pinching the meat sharply between my teeth.
“Ah!” He’s not successful in stifling his noise this time.
“Did I say that you could speak, Mr. Grey?” I chastise.
“No, Mistress,” he pants. “I’m sorry, Mistress!”
“Good. Now, keep quiet.” I bite his nipple again and he gasps. His mouth open, he’s panting like a thirsty puppy as I torment his torso with my lips and teeth, pink and red bruises everywhere. His dick is so hard and he’s so horny that there’s a small circle of wetness in his jeans where his throbbing dick is aching to get free and pre-cum has drenched the denim. I know I’m at risk of Jason or Gail coming out of their apartment, but I take my chances.
I slowly unbutton and unzip his jeans to find that he is going commando today. I reach into his jeans and find my prize, squeezing hard. He’s panting is louder now and his face is pained as he turns his hands around and grabs the back of the sofa.
“Do you want me to stop, Mr. Grey?”
“No… Mistress…” He can barely breathe. Good, because I don’t intend to. I squeeze harder and he’s trying not to squirm, his struggle painted all over his face. He’s throbbing hard in my hand and breathing louder and louder. He’s mine, all mine. He’s not allowed to get hurt or take stupid risks and I’m going to make sure that he remembers it.
I release his erection and let it lay on his stomach. Using my whole hand, I rub against it, up and down, up and down. He’s groaning in his chest and I can feel him fighting the urge to stroke against my hand.
“Whose is this?” I ask him.
“Yours… Mistress…” he breathes.
“That’s right!” I hiss. “And who do you belong to?” I ask as I wrap my hand around the head and stroke just the way he likes it.
“Gaahh! You… Mistress!” he gasps.
“Very good,” I say deepening the stroke. “What’s my name?”
“Say it again!” I command, as I stroke his dick with one hand and work his jeans off his hip with the other. “Who do you belong to?”
“Anastasia!” he calls out.
“Say it!” I say, scratching his half-exposed hip with my free hand. He gasps long and hard and his leg jerks. “Who do you belong to?”
“Anastasia Grey!” he says, his voice tortured, his dick throbbing, and new welts rising on his hip. I manage to get his jeans past his pelvis so that his thighs are still restrained and I get in his face. Still stroking his shaft, I lick his lips. His mouth is still open and panting.
“Look at me,” I command him gently. He opens his eyes and his desire is evident. “Say it! Say ‘I belong to Anastasia Grey.’” He blinks twice, then takes a deep breath.
“I belong to… Anastasia Grey,” he breathes, trying hard to control his passion.
“I belong to Anastasia Grey,” he says, all in one breath, his voice pained.
“And don’t you forget it!” I slide down his body, take his head in my mouth and suck hard. He whimpers loudly and I know he can’t avoid it because it’s been at least a month since he’s felt my mouth on his dick. He’s holding his breath more than he’s breathing now, and his dick is starting to get that veiny pinkness that means orgasm is imminent. I love Christian’s dick. I love the way it feels, the way it looks, the way it tastes. I hold his balls tight, signaling to him that he can’t come, and lick his dick from base to tip, over and over again. I watch the veins pulsing and feel the texture against my tongue. His breathing is out of control as I lick and lick, watching his shaft shine with my saliva. It starts to jerk on its own and I can feel the muscles in his perineum start to contract.
“Ah, ah, ah,” I warn. I know if he gets too far, he can’t talk himself back.
“Yes Mistress! Yes Mistress!” I know that’s his way of fending off his orgasm, but I also know it’s agony because Little Grey is ready to blow. He’s growling, trying to control his orgasm. His body is trembling and he can’t stop it. I’m so hot that I can feel the temperature change and the cool wetness between my legs. Once the contracting stops and the throbbing slows, I climb aboard and slide down his shaft.
He groans a sorrowful moan and I know that if I move now, the party’s over. I have to keep still, though it’s hard—literally.
“Tell me what you feel,” I breathe in his ear. He takes several deep breaths before he speaks.
“It’s hot,” he whispers. “Very hot. It’s wet and… tight… like a… grip… squeeze.”
“So if I move right now, you would come.”
“Yes… Mistress…” he breathes, and I feel him throbbing inside of me. I can’t take it anymore. I have to move.
“Don’t. Come.” I command him as I start my rhythm. “Ah!” My rise is fast! I want him badly. “Don’t come.” I command again.
“Yes Mistress!” he hisses between clenched teeth.
“Listen to me,” I growl. “You are not allowed to take chances. This is my body. This belongs to me. You follow instructions and you stay safe. You are not allowed to take chances, and you are not allowed to get hurt. Do you understand?”
“Yes Mistress!” he whispers.
“I am not allowed… to take chances,” he repeats. “This is your body… this… body belongs… to you…” He’s fading fast. He’s going to come any minute. “I must follow… instructions and… stay safe… I…” He stops and grinds his teeth, grunting in his chest for a few moments before he continues. “I am not allowed to take chances and I am not allowed to get hurt!” He spit the last part out quickly and my libido just shot through the roof. This atomic blast is about to happen and I can’t stop it.
I grind to a melodious rhythm, rocking backward and forward on his deliciously throbbing and hardening cock. Sweat drenches his forehead and hairline and I can’t imagine how many muscles it takes for him not to explode. I need him to touch me. I need…
“How does it feel… Mr. Grey?” I taunt as I actually feel my orgasm rising in my fucking ribcage.
“Hot… friction… burning… pain… ple-ease, Mistress… please…” He’s panting is out of control. I put my hands on his chest again and steady myself.
“Grab it, Mr. Grey!” I command him. I’m about to come. “Grab it hard and squeeze.” He grabs my ass like a drowning man grabbing a life-preserver and I detonate, my muscles squeezing and my hips grinding mercilessly into his.
“Mistress! Please! I can’t! I can’t… control… wings! Wings! Wings!”
“Come for me,” I whisper. I dig my nails into his chest and bite down hard on his wing, full intent on leaving a dark, burgundy mark for him to see when he leaves the house tomorrow. I suck and suck and suck until…
“Mmmmmmmmggaaaaaaahhhh!” He cries out in agony it seems. He tried to hold his orgasm, but it was no use. He used his sexual safeword and I didn’t stop, signaling him that it was okay to come—but I know he wanted verbal permission, so I let him enjoy the wave.
“Yes!” I whisper. “Give it to me! It’s mine! Only mine!” His orgasm goes on and on and on, his body quivering, his member throbbing and pumping, and his eyes producing orgasmic tears—for the first time, I think. He’s crying out almost like a wounded animal and I half expect Jason to come running to his rescue. If he does, he’s going to get a big surprise. I pick another spot on his neck and bite, and suck, as he quivers through his orgasm and aftershocks.
After I don’t know how long, his body finally relaxes. His mouth is hanging open and he’s breathing wildly. I stroke his head and face, drenched in his sweat. His eyes are closed and his head is still lying back on the sofa. I kiss his neck, chest, and cheeks over and over again as he repeats the mantra…
“I belong to Anastasia Grey…”
“I belong to Anastasia Grey…”
“I belong to Anastasia Grey…”
I haven’t been in the office in quite some time since I’m only down to a handful of patients. Marilyn is working at Helping Hands with me more often and other times, helping me keep my life in some kind of order. Today, I see one patient and then we’re off to Helping Hands.
I look up from what I’m working on and Chuck is standing in the doorway of my office. His face is impassive, but I know something is not quite right. I take off my glasses.
“Chuck? What is it?” Did something happen to Christian? My father? Little Harry? Tell me before I go batshit.
“You’ve got a visitor, Ana.” Um… okay. Who is it? Valerie? The President? Elvis?
“Yes?” I ask expecting.
“She says her name is Camilla Johannson.” I know this name should mean something to me and Chuck’s expression has me feeling a whole lot nervous.
“Who is she, Chuck?” He takes a deep breath.
“I’m told that she’s the reason that Edward David left Cedar Rapids,” he says flatly.
I gasp loudly as realization dawns. She’s the one that David beat half to death and couldn’t go back to his hometown. I cover my mouth to prevent any sound from coming out.
“What is she doing here?” I whisper feverishly. “What does she want?!”
“She says she wants to talk to you. She’s willing to submit to a search if you think it’s necessary. Marilyn has agreed to witness the search.” I twist my mouth. I have no idea what she would want with me. We’ve never met. David is locked away now and can’t get to either of us. My only fear would be that she would be some kind of sick, scorned lover coming to take revenge. I instinctively touch my baby bump to caress my children growing there. “I can tell her to leave, Ana.”
“Do you think she wants to harm me?” I ask, softly. “We don’t know each other.”
“That’s it. I’m telling her to leave.” He makes for the door.
“No,” I stop him. “Send her in, but you come in with her. Stay close to me. I don’t know what she wants.” He examines me for a moment, then nods before leaving my office to get Camilla. I take a deep breath and prepare myself for her arrival.
Chuck comes back into my office with a petite woman with brown hair—not as dark as mine, but almost. We’re nearly the same height, but she’s taller than I am. Our features are very similar and from a distance, one could mistake her for me and me for her. It’s creepy. It’s like… oh my God!
“Hi again, Ana,” she says softly as Chuck moves quickly to my side.
“You!” I exclaim. “You! He said… you said…”
“…that I was his sister. Yes. It was easy since we were both from the same hometown.” I sink into my seat. It was Camilla all along, pretending to be Edward’s sister… all those years ago when we were living together. “I know you must be wondering why I’m here…”
“…And why you were there!” I exclaim, and I know that she knows what I’m talking about. Chuck moves even closer to me and I’m hoping that this won’t be another “jump in front of the bullet” situation.
“I didn’t believe you were the same person,” she says, examining me. “You seemed so small and… powerless the last time that I saw you. It had to be four or five years ago…”
“Six,” I say, a little more forcefully than I intended. She puts her hand up.
“I’m not here to cause any trouble, Ana. Mrs. Grey. I just wanted to look into the face of the person that finally took that bastard down and say thank you.” She stares at me without blinking as she says the words. I’m stunned for a moment. I don’t quite understand all of this. Six years ago, I came back to the apartment that I shared with Edward and found her there. He introduced her as his sister, yet they seemed so uncomfortable around each other. Now I know why. “I’m sure that I owe you an explanation…”
“You don’t owe me anything,” I say, sharply. Why am I feeling animosity towards this woman right now? She hasn’t done anything to me. If anything, she’s a victim just like I was. She examines me for a moment, and then nods.
“This was a bad idea,” she says. “I’m sorry I bothered you,” and she turns to leave. In three seconds before she gets to the door, I feel like shit.
“Wait!” I call to her before she leaves. I shake my head as if to rid myself of a bad thought. “It’s been a rough year… couple of years… as you can probably imagine. Please, don’t leave. Have a seat. Forgive my rudeness.” I gesture to the seats in front of my desk. She reluctantly sits in one of the chairs. “I’m sorry. You have to know how awkward this is for me. I have no idea why you’re here or… how you even found me.”
“I… followed the trial. I’ve followed all things Edward David since he left Cedar Rapids.” I find that strange. If he had raped and beaten me, I would definitely not want to follow his life—which is exactly why I didn’t know what the hell was going on with the Green Valley gang until Christian decided to dig into it.
“May I ask why you would want to follow his life?” I ask her.
“To make sure that he didn’t come back,” she says, flatly. That makes sense.
“Okay… but why did you come here all those years ago?”
“He called me.” He called her? Why the hell did he call her after what he did to her? “You know exactly who I am, don’t you?” she asks. The look of horror on my face must have given me away. I sigh.
“Unfortunately, yes I do,” I respond. Her eyes widen.
“He told you?” she asks, aghast. I shake my head.
“No. I’m married to one of the most powerful men in the country. No one gets near him without a background check. He ran one on me, which led to him running one on Edward. Your name came up.” She shakes her head.
“I thought that was so… hidden. Nobody was supposed to know about it. That was the whole idea of him leaving.” She’s still shaking her head while she’s speaking.
“My husband has ways of finding information that isn’t really public,” I tell her. “Edward lied to me about everything but his name. I had no way of knowing who I was really dealing with until it was… too late.” I shiver thinking about being cuffed to that damn bed on Vashon Island again.
“I know,” she says mournfully. “He very handsome and charming, but deep down, he’s really a monster.” Her head is down and she quickly wipes away a tear.
“Why did you come, Camilla?” I ask. “There’s nothing in the world that would have made me come to Edward had I suffered the same thing you had.” She raises her head to me.
“I came for you,” she says. For me? What the hell? “Edward told me that he had met someone that looked just like me, but that she wasn’t me. He tried to convince me that he still loved me and that you were just a replacement, but he was talking that same crazy talk he did right before he snapped.” She shivers this time. “There’s something really wrong with him—like he really doesn’t know what he’s doing until he’s done it. He really is a sick bastard, but that doesn’t give him the excuse to do the things that he did. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, Ana… but I loved him. I loved him so much.”
“I did, too,” I lament, “but what do you mean by ‘you came for me?’”
“I was sure by his tone of voice and demeanor that he was about to snap again. I don’t know why or what had happened between the two of you that set him off.” I wouldn’t be able to tell her. My relationship with Edward David was one ongoing nightmare. I don’t know what phase of the nightmare we were in when she showed up. “I didn’t want what happened to me to happen to you… to any other girl. So I screwed up my courage and came to Seattle. I let him know that I still didn’t want him and that I still had the pictures of what he did to me. Even though I couldn’t prosecute him, I could still ruin his reputation. It was enough at the time to make him heel. I don’t know what happened after that.”
“After that, he cheated on me profusely and shamelessly. No one woman anywhere would have been enough for him. There was—is—an ego monster inside of him like I’ve never seen before, and it has to be fed constantly. He only takes down if he senses immediate and imminent danger or if he can be physically restrained. Otherwise, that monster doesn’t take down. We had been broken up for four years and he was still treating me like a cheating girlfriend. I don’t know why he came back to me. It couldn’t be for the reasons that he said.”
“What were his reasons?” she asks.
“That he still loved me; that I was always the one and he just didn’t know it when he had me—the same old song and dance.”
“Ah, yes,” she hisses, “that deadly Edward David charm. He did the same thing to me. I still don’t know how he could possibly expect me to fall for that crap.” She rubs her entire face with both of her hands. “I know that you were hurt during your ordeal by that other guy, but you never said that Edward hit you. Why?”
“Because he never hit me,” I tell her. “He handcuffed me to the bed, but he never hit me. It was all Harris on that end.” She stares at me for a moment, chokes out a sob, and then begins to weep.
Chuck picks up a nearby box of tissue and hands it to her. She takes a few and dries her face.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “It’s horrible what I’m thinking…” Do I want to know what she’s thinking? I’m a professional. I can handle it.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
“I want… to know why… he beat me… and raped me… and not you,” she answers. Yeah, she’s right. That’s horrible. “Please, don’t be angry. It’s just that… I loved him. I loved him so much… and he was vicious and brutal. I’m not minimizing what happened to you, but can you even imagine seeing the man who you love coming at you violently with so much hatred in his eyes, so intent on harming you that it’s like he doesn’t see you any more? It’s like the whole thing went in slow motion. I could see his face before every hit, and the sex was agonizing. The whole ordeal didn’t last ten minutes, but I swear it felt like it lasted forever. After he came, he hit me so hard that he knocked me out cold and I woke up in the hospital. I’ve never gotten over it.”
I can’t even picture Christian coming at me with such violence and hatred in his eyes. I’ve seen the hatred in Edward that she described, but he’s never hit me and I have no idea why.
“Maybe it was guilt,” I tell her. She raises her eyes to mine. “Why he didn’t hit me, maybe it was guilt for what he did to you. Maybe he was right and he never got over you. I was just a replacement, an easy mark because I was so damaged. When he knew it was hopeless to get you back, to even get near you, he set his sights on me—but he couldn’t do to me what he did to you for fear of a repeat of the outcome, although he came frighteningly close.” It doesn’t explain what he did to that Phyllis girl, though. He was just as brutal with her as he was with Camilla. Why did I get spared?
“Camilla, why did he beat you?” She stares at me for a moment then drops her eyes again.
“He was in college. I was a graduating senior, doing all the stuff that seniors do. I was hanging out with some of the kids from my class one night—just hanging out, eating burgers and doing nothing—and he wandered up on us. I was so happy to see him, but he was so angry. There was a group of us, Ana. I wasn’t with anybody—it was a group. He dragged me away and confronted me about who I was with. I tried to tell him that we were all together and he accused me of trying to protect the guy, whoever he was. I kept telling him that there was no guy and he slapped me square across the face… hard. I thought my eyes were going to explode. I tried to get away and… well, you know the rest.” I shake my head.
“I know that it must have been rough. Have you talked to anyone about it? A counselor or therapist?” She shakes her head.
“No. I wasn’t allowed,” she said. “I wanted to go to the police and tell them everything, but my parents wouldn’t let me do it.”
“It’s not too late, Camilla,” I tell her. “He’s in jail now. They can’t stop you and he can’t get to you anymore. Talk to someone. It helps. I’m a therapist and I talk to a therapist.” She frowns at me. “Yeah, I know. Physician, heal thyself. Believe it or not, we can’t. Just like a doctor needs another doctor when they get sick, so do we.”
“How does that feel?” she asks. “Being a therapist and being able to solve other people’s problems and not really being able to solve your own?” I shrug.
“Human,” I respond. She nods.
“I’m going to be leaving now. Thanks for seeing me, Ana,” she says, rising from her chair. “I’ve got a little bit of closure now that he’s in jail. I’ll take your advice and talk to someone now. It’s well past time.” She picks up her purse and heads to the door with Chuck behind her. She stops and turns around. “Thanks for having the balls to put him away. Maybe if I had spoken up when it happened to me…” she trails off.
“Here’s your first session, Camilla,” I say coming around my desk and standing next to Chuck. “And this one’s on me. You can’t take responsibility for his actions. You had your reasons for not speaking up against him and they were important enough to you for you to stay quiet all these years. You didn’t make him the monster that he is. He did that all on his own. You couldn’t have prevented him from doing what he did to me, but now, he’s paying for his crime, and it’s time for you… for us to heal. Let this go. Find a good therapist and get on with your life.” I proffer my hand to her. She smiles and takes it.
“Thank you again for seeing me… and for putting that bastard away.”
“Believe me, the pleasure was all mine.” She put her purse on her shoulder and leaves the office. I go back to my desk and sit down.
“Call Christian. Tell him what just happened,” I tell him.
“He already knows by now,” Chuck says. I turn to him. “I told J before I came into the meeting. He’s probably already outside.”
“And he didn’t come charging in here like a stampede of wild horses? Not likely.” I roll my eyes.
“The day is young, Mrs. Grey,” Chuck says. “I’d say give him a few moments and he’ll come marching in here, reaching for you and your stomach and asking if you’re okay.”
“I’m surprised he wasn’t blowing up your cell phone.”
“He was,” Marilyn says as she walks into the office and hands Chuck his cell. I frown and look to Chuck for explanation.
“I needed my full focus to be on you and Ms. Johannson,” he says. “Marilyn was instructed to answer any calls or texts and give full disclosure, but I couldn’t be distracted.” Before the words are out of his mouth, my husband throws open the double doors and is standing there like the Terminator. Chuck and I both look at each other and back at Christian. Sure enough, he marches into my office and falls down on his knees next to my chair. With one hand on my stomach and the other on my cheek, he asks, “Are you okay?”
I’ve got to talk to him about being so damn predictable.
A/N: Pictures of places, cars, fashion, etc. can be found at https://www.pinterest.com/ladeeceo/becoming-dr-grey/
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Love and Handcuffs!