I should be on top of the world.

A week after its launch, the Greenwich Library has already surpassed over 200,000 subscribers, a number that has had Christian more and more worried by the day, and I’ve received official confirmation from Harrington that Grey Publishing has agreed to terminate Hailey Lewis’ contract. To his surprise, GEH has decided to waive all termination fees and recouped costs. To my surprise, I had several orgasms pulled out of me under the vengeful bite of Christian’s restraints. I should be flying so high that the lights of Seattle below me would dissolve into distant pinpricks, like starlight.

Instead, I’m on my knees in front of the toilet. 

I really thought I’d kicked this…

“Please leave,” I beg for the third time while Chrisitan re-gathers my hair in his hands to keep it out of the path of my projectile vomiting. 

“Not a chance.” 

I take a breath to argue, but the words are cut off by a gross sounding heave that expels what absolutely has to be the last of whatever is left in my stomach. Tears run down my face as I struggle to catch my breath from the repeated retching, and Christian runs his hand lovingly over my back. 

“Can I get you something?” 

“No.” Wiping the tears away, I push down on the silver lever to flush away the vomit, along with whatever is left of my dignity, and scoot back to slump against the wall. At the very least, I do feel a sense of relief. Like that last round really did get up whatever was making me sick. Now, I just feel drained. “I think I’m done.” 

Christian holds onto me as I climb back to my feet and find my balance, something that shouldn’t be as difficult as it is. He frowns, holding me steady. 

“I’ve got meetings I can’t get out of this morning, but I’ll come back and check on you after lunch. Get back in bed and stay there. I’ll have Gail bring you up some toast.” 

“Unnecessary.” I meander back to the sink and swish with a gulp of mouthwash. Once my mouth is clean again, I pick up the abandoned eye shadow palette resting on my countertop, pouting slightly when I see that at least two of the pressed powder pans cracked from the force of being thrown down on the marble before I sprinted away. My go-to shade is covered in loose powder that collects too heavily on my brush and leaves my unfinished eye much darker than the other. “I’m going into the office today.” 

“Like hell you are.” He moves to stand in the doorway, as though he’s actually going to block my way if I try to pass. I meet his eyes in the mirror.

“Christian, I don’t have a choice. I’ve been a little preoccupied stealing Phoenix from you and basically everything else I have to do has gone to shit. I’ve got a lot to catch up on.” 

“It’ll be there tomorrow.” 

“Along with a whole new day of work.” I close the palette and toss it carelessly into the drawer with the rest of my makeup, then turn and kiss him softly on the cheek. “I know you’re scared I’m going to run your publishing company out of business, but that’s just something you’re going to have to accept, baby.” 

He glares at me. “That’s going to be awfully hard to do when I lock you in this house.” 

With a laugh, I slip past him, pale and slightly green through my makeup, but dressed and ready for work none-the-less. “You can try, but I’m at the top of my game, Grey. Unstoppable.” 

“You are.” Strong arms wrap around me from behind, pulling me back against him. “But you’re not going to stay that way if you don’t take care of yourself. I swear to god, I might as well fire every single person on my security team. The biggest threat to you, is you.” 

I let out a small laugh through my nose, but just the tiny little bit my abs contract to force out the sound triggers my gag reflex, and I have to swallow to keep the bile in my stomach from rising up my throat. Thankfully, I manage it without Christian noticing. 

“I’m not going to argue with you if you’re thinking about cutting down the number of people stalking me everywhere I go.” He rolls his eyes and tightens his hold when I once again try to move away. 

“Please stay home.” 

“Look, if I get any worse, I’ll come home… after my meetings.” 

He takes a deep breath that’s filled with all of the arguments he still wants to make, but he nods in agreement. Probably because he knows it’s the best compromise he’s going to get. With a softly whispered, “I love you,” he leans in and presses his lips to mine. 

I linger there for about three seconds until I have to sprint for the bathroom again. 

“Ana…” his warning voice grumbles, following me into the bathroom. 

“I’m fine!” I call back.

But I’m not fine.

I spend the entire drive into the city dry heaving and feeling as though every thought I have is run through molasses first. There are once again photographers lingering outside my office that I don’t have the energy to deal with, so I ask Smith to drive me around back where Evan leads me up a shady alley occupied by a man passed out with a needle in his arm. The back door is heavy and has to be forced open, but we manage to get into the service elevator without incident. 

I lean against the wall as we start the journey up, concentrating on breathing and reminding myself of everything I absolutely have to get done today so that when the doors slide open, I can pull myself together and strut into my office as if I own the whole fucking world.

Because I’m a Grey.

“Good morning, Ana,” Abby greets me with her usual bubbly smile. I try to return her enthusiasm as she holds out the stack of phone messages she’s taken for me, but I’m so exhausted, I’m not sure it’s even possible to succeed. There’s nothing here that can’t wait, so I thank my assistant and turn to the rest of my staff. 

“Can I have everyone gather in the conference room? I’ve got some big news to share.” 

“We already saw the numbers,” Stevens calls. “You’re kicking ass, Ana. We get it. We love you. We don’t need to have a whole meeting about it…” 

“Oh, you have no idea how much ass I’ve been kicking. Conference room. Now.” 

There’s an unpleasant concerto of groans and squeaks from chairs, scrapes and clings from supplies being gathered, and an overall hum of curious babble as everyone files into the tiny room next to my office. Most eyes turn to Abby, looking for clues, but she keeps the news locked up tight behind a terrible poker face. The joy she’s basking in over being in the know shines so brightly through her self-satisfied smile that it could be picked up from space like the Luxor beam. 

“Abby?” I start, breaking through her reverie. 

“Hm?” 

“The manuscripts?” 

“Oh, shit!” Her eyes go wide before she darts back out to reception in a panic. I giggle to myself as she tromps back in with Penny, both of them ladened down with thick copies of printed manuscripts that they start to pass around the table. 

“Whatever projects you’re working on are on hold,” I announce to the room. “This is our next big release, and I need every pair of eyes on it.” 

“Phoenix?” Jacki asks. “I thought Lewis signed with Grey Publishing?” 

“She did. But she and I had lunch yesterday and we had a really great conversation about her goals and her vision for her career and she decided that GP just wasn’t putting her on the right course. So…” I reach into my bag and pull out Hailey’s new contract. “She signed with us instead.” 

“But she’s under contract…” 

“Was. Through some mildly threatening maneuvering on my part, GP has released her from her contractual obligations without any objection.” I grin. “Though I assure you, my husband was not very happy about it.”

Laughter fills the room, then is overcome with boisterous chatter. There’s pride in the glances that are shot in my direction, and elation in the excited proclamations that punctuate the otherwise pervasive thrum. The confidence I feel in promising a 50,000 unit release is reflected back at me, even as I make the statement. The people around this table really believe in me, and, for a moment, I think I might start to cry…

“I just can’t believe it,” Rogers says. He’s been quiet, mostly staring off into space while the people around him celebrated. “We’ve never beat Grey Publishing on a release. Never. Not once.” 

I smirk at him. “Well get used to it. There’s a new big dog in town, ladies and gentleman.” 

Cheers ring out and Rodgers starts a round of applause, holding my gaze as he slowly gets to his feet. It’s overwhelming. I can feel my face flame cherry red, so I start to shake my head and wave them toward the door. 

“Alright, alright… Everyone back to work. I mean it, this one has to be perfect.” 

The excited energy dwindles in the room long after my staff has finally shuffled back to their desks. But as I gather my things, I start to feel woozy again and have to lean over on the table for support. Probably because it takes me so long, Evan peaks into the room to check on me. When I look up at him, he’s expression turns down with concern. 

“Mrs. Grey, maybe we should take you home.”

I shake my head. “I’m fine. I just need to sit down for awhile.” 

On the way to my office, Penny stops me to say that Kate called while I was in the meeting, so I put a return phone call at the top of the list of priorities I’m compiling in my head. I don’t even get the chance to reach for my phone though, because the second I’m settled down in my chair, I’m hit with a wave of nausea that has me bending over my waste basket. When I’m finally able to pick up the phone and dial Kate’s number, I fall back in my chair and actually think it might be time to admit defeat.

I should have listened to Chrisitan. 

“Kavanagh Media,” Kate’s receptionist answers. “How may I direct your call?” 

“Katherine Grey, it’s Ana.” 

“Please hold.” 

A pleasantly soft melody floats through the phone and I close my eyes, letting each sweet note calm away the contractions in my stomach. It works surprisingly well. 

“I have the most exciting news you’ve heard all day, are you ready?” Kate’s voice abruptly breaks through the music. 

I laugh, then immediately regret it. “Tell me.” 

“You’re going to have to call your husband and tell him that he’s not going to see you tonight because you and I are going to use my press pass to get backstage at the Drake concert in Tacoma. I’ve already booked a hotel room.” 

“Ugh, I wish…” 

“You wish? What the fuck could be more important than Drake? And don’t say Christian because I know Christian, and I’m telling you right now, he’s not.” 

 This time my chuckle is cut off by a groan. “Stop making me laugh.” 

“Why?”

“Because I’m dying.” 

“Still?” 

“It’s getting worse. The second I got out of bed this morning, I started puking.” 

She snorts. “What? Are you pregnant?” 

“No, that’s ridicul–” 

The words come to an abrupt halt, like a car that hits a wall in a crash dummy test. 

I’ve been absolutely wrung-out exhausted. Just like I was when I was pregnant with Calliope. 

I’ve been constantly nauseous without a fever or any other flu symptoms. Just like I was when I was pregnant with Calliope. 

Yesterday the wine at the restaurant had made me sick, just like the wine had at that dinner I’d joined Christian for in New York had made me sick… when I was pregnant with Calliope. 

Oh, god…

“Why are you so quiet?” Kate asks. “Holy fuck, are you pregnant?” 

“No. No, I can’t be pregnant. I’m on birth control…” 

“Like you were last time?” 

I shake my head, even though I know she can’t see it. “No, last time it was antibiotics. I haven’t taken anything. I don’t even have to take my birth control. I got the implant.” 

“When was your last period?” 

I blink, trying to think. It’s difficult because they’ve been so light since I’ve changed my birth control that they’ve become nearly non-existent. 

“I– shit, I can’t remember.” 

“Oh my god, Ana.” 

“No, I’m not pregnant,” I say again, as though it’s a fact. Because I need it to be a fact. 

“I’ll go to the pharmacy and pick up some pregnancy tests. Meet me at Escala in an hour.” 

“No!” 

“Ana, not taking a pregnancy test isn’t going to mean you’re not pregnant, and delaying finding out is denying my niece or nephew vital prenatal care.” 

I can feel myself shaking. Niece? Nephew? Fuck.

“It’s not that, I just..” There are paparazzi outside and Escala is a very recognizable building… “Not Escala.” 

“I thought you worked that whole thing out?” 

“I did. That doesn’t mean I want to spend all my time there.” 

“Fine.” I can hear the eye roll in her voice. “Meet me at Grace and Carrick’s apartment.” 

“Aren’t they at work?” 

“Yeah, that’s why it’s perfect. No one will be there to watch me cry.” The excitement in her voice is so apparent, it’s like I can feel it coming through the phone. I can’t seem to think at all, and after spending all morning oscillating between a well deserved power high and being violently ill, I’m suddenly completely numb. 

“How are you going to get in?” I ask in a shaky voice.

“I have a key.” 

“You have a key?!”

“You don’t?” 

“No.” 

“Well, I guess that means they love me more than they love you.” The taunt behind her tone lands in exactly the way she meant it to. I scowl. 

“Not if I’m pregnant, they don’t.” 

Her bell-like laughter rings in my ears. “See, now you’re getting in the spirit. One hour, Ana. Don’t be late.” 

She hangs up and I’m left drifting. There was this moment of realization I had once the doctor at the student clinic in Cambridge told me I was pregnant with Calliope. It was like the instant I knew she was there, a connection was made that allowed me to feel her. A constant awareness that she was there, like a hum that lived beneath my skin, and that I could always feel. There’s nothing else in the world that’s ever felt like that. And sitting there, I start to feel that exact same hum buzzing across every inch of my body. 

I do my best to ignore it until it’s time to go meet Kate. 

“Evan?” I call as I approach the small cluster of desks where my security team spends most of the day. All four pairs of eyes look up at me. 

“What’s up, Ana?” 

“I need you to take me to my mother-in-law’s apartment, please?” 

“Sure thing, boss.” He picks up his coat and swings it over his shoulder. To my dismay, the other three follow us out. 

Kate pulls into the space next to me in the parking garage seconds after Smith cuts the engine of the SUV. She’s got a plastic CVS bag in her hand and a 10,000 megawatt grin plastered across her face.

“I got like ten different kinds,” she effuses.  She holds out the bag for me and I take it, feeling it’s weight like a prison sentence. I can’t move. My feet feel as though they’ve been filled with concrete that’s been bolted to the asphalt, leaving me with no other option but to just stand there and shake. For the first time, Kate’s grin falters. She takes a breath before wrapping her arm through mine and pulling me to the elevators. 

At the very least, my security team decides to give us space. Only Evan takes the elevator with us, and he stays in the hallway while Kate fishes out a key. I stand beneath the generic light fixture over the door, drowning in the growing certainty of what this test is about to tell me. By the time Kate gets through the deadbolt, I’m so washed with that same, knowing hum that it’s almost as though I can feel a heartbeat thrumming from inside my uterus. 

“Come on,” Kate says, tossing her purse onto the couch as we stride through the barely familiar living room. We’ll use Grace’s bathroom.”

I clutch the plastic bag in my hand and follow her, concentrating so hard on breathing that I’m caught completely off guard by the security-summoning scream she lets out when she opens the door to Grace and Carrick’s bedroom. Evan bursts through the front door, gun drawn, and comes barrelling over the top of me. I blink uncertainly through the chaos as it unfolds around me and, automatically, place a protective hand over my stomach. 

“What in the world?” Grace demands, wrapping a robe around herself as she comes through her open bedroom door. Evan immediately holsters his gun and glares down at the blonde laughing next me. 

“What the hell, Kate?” 

“I wasn’t expecting her to be here. Stand down, Clark Kent.” 

Somehow, his look becomes darker. But it softens when he turns to me. “You alright, Ana?” 

I nod, realizing too late that I’m still cradling my stomach. His eyes watch my hands fall to my sides, then turn solemn. “I’ll uh… I’ll give you some privacy.” 

He leaves at my nod, but once he’s disappeared down the hallway, I’m left to answer Grace’s questioning stare. 

“What are you girls doing here?” 

“We, uh…” Kate hesitates. “We thought you would be at work.” 

“I had an emergency appendectomy last night and had to come home to get some sleep. I was just getting ready to go in.” Her eyes move down to the bag in my hand and narrow suspiciously. “What’s going on?” 

Kate bobs slightly, pressing her lips together to keep the excited words from tumbling out all over our mother-in-law like the vomit I’ve been unable to hold back all morning. I hold up the bag, trying to ignore the crinkling of the plastic that gives away the tremble in my hands. 

“I’m here to take a pregnancy test.” 

Grace’s eyes go as wide as dinner plates. It’s like she’s on an old-fashioned dimmer switch, her glow brightening as realization dawns. 

“You’re pregnant?” 

I haven’t taken the test yet, but I nod anyway. Kate, surprisingly, is more practical. She takes the bag from me and moves past Grace into the bedroom. “That’s what we’re here to find out.” 

An excited shriek disappears into the hallway behind Grace as she races for the kitchen to get me something to drink. Kate and I start pulling boxes out of the bag, trying to be organized about which test I should take first. Ultimately, I take a paper Dixie cup from Grace to pee in, and with unsteady hands, dip in each stick before laying them out in a line on the counter. 

Then I start to pace. 

“We shouldn’t get too excited,” Kate says, though the tone of her voice suggests she’s already well past ‘excited.’ “It could be negative.” 

It’s not going to be negative.

“Right,” Grace agrees. “No reason to jump the gun here.” She pauses for about three seconds before locking eyes with Kate. “Oh, I hope it’s a boy!” 

“Me too!” 

A boy?

I turn to look out the windows that offer a spectacular view of the city and place a hand over my stomach, imagining a baby boy in place of a disconnected heartbeat. I can see him immediately, a perfect reflection of Chrisitan, the way Calliope is of me. In the few minutes it takes for the tests to develop, a whole life flashes before me. Scraped knees and grass stains, soccer games and football practices… Chrisitan in the garage, already having summoned his entire R&D team to help our son build a race car for the downhill derby. My heart swells to a fullness that makes my chest ache, that warms my blood with an overwhelming feeling of peace. Completion. When the timer goes off that tells us it’s time to check the results, a tear breaks over my waterline and, once again, my hands move to my stomach.

“Ana?” Kate prompts me, her voice so anxious she doesn’t even sound like herself. . 

“You look,” I reply. I don’t have to. 

I hear the movement behind me as she races to the bathroom counter and starts sorting through the tests. Her exalted inhale confirms what I already know. 

“Positive,” she breathes, as if that’s the best she can do. “Positive. Positive. Positive… they’re all positive!” 

Of course they are.

“We’re having a baby!” Grace cheers. She and Kate grab a hold of one another and start bouncing together, chanting their joy again and again. Tears of bliss are rolling down Grace’s face when she finally turns to me. I can barely lift my arms to return her hug. 

“Ana?” she checks. “Are you alright, dear?” 

I’m not sure if it’s perceptible, but I shake my head. When I try to speak, I’m only able to do so in a whisper. “Christian doesn’t want any more kids.” 

“Oh,” Kate waves her hand as if that’s very unimportant. “He says he doesn’t want any more kids, but have you seen the way he is with Calliope? She’s his favorite thing in the entire world, next to you. The man is completely head-over-heels in love with that baby. It’ll be the same with this one.” 

“That’s true,” Grace agrees. “He’s always been resistant to change, but once that change happens, he embraces it fully. He’s going to be absolutely over the moon when you tell him, Ana.” 

“You think so?” 

Kate nods enthusiastically. “Remember, you were scared to tell him about Calliope too. You spent that whole day in a panic thinking he was going to lose his shit, and then he practically threw a party. Remember how happy he was? And he didn’t even know then how much he was going to love being a father.” 

“Which he does,” Grace affirms. “More than anything.”

I nod. No one could deny just how much Christian loves Calliope. Surely, they’re right. Surely, he’ll fall for this baby exactly the way he fell for her. I already have… 

I reach down and place a hand over my stomach again and that warm feeling of home blossoms inside of me once more. It’s happiness and hope and… fulfillment. It’s perfection.

 I take a deep breath and summon the image of understanding and jubilation that had dawned on Christian’s face back in Cambridge and hold onto it with everything I have.

“I should make it special,” I say at last. “It wasn’t special last time, I just blurted it out. I should… come up with some way to tell him, right?” 

Kate nods, her excitement returning. “I can make a Pinterest board of ideas if you want.” 

“No…” I shake my head and glance down at my watch. It’s just after 11:30 in the morning. “He won’t be home until after six. I’ve got all day to figure it out.” 

“Film it if you can,” Kate says. “Or I’ll have Luke hack it off your security cameras.” She laughs to herself, but Grace’s eyes flash very seriously in her direction. 

“Can we do that?”

“Are you kidding me? The day we find something Luke can’t get into is the day someone becomes richer than Christian.” 

Grace nods, and I can feel her happiness in this revelation in the goodbye hug she gives me on our way out. I’m sure she’s imagining all the production she’s going to put into the few seconds of security footage Kate will make good on producing, eagerly anticipating it’s entry into her perfect family archives. 

Once we’re out of the apartment though, Kate lets me wallow in silence. I think she knows that I’m trying to sort through so many varying degrees of happiness and confusion and shock and fear. Evan doesn’t. The moment I’ve said good-bye to her and climbed back into the SUV, he meets my eyes in the rear-view mirror. 

“Everything alright, Ana?” 

I swallow. “I’m not going back into the office today. Please take me home.” 

“Sure.” He starts the car and backs out of the parking space, while I reach for my phone to text Abby, letting her know I won’t be back in the office… and that she needs to schedule me an appointment with my OBGYN. Once she’s responded that she’s on it, I lean back and try to figure out how on earth I’m going to tell Christian. 

I’m grateful for the hours I’ll have to figure out what to do before he leaves the office, until I get home and they’re all taken away from me. Christian is there, sitting on the couch in clothes it looks like he was working out in, sorting through the piles of documents stacked around him while the news plays at a quiet background level on the TV. When I come through the archway between the living room and the foyer, he looks up at me and gives me a sly smile. 

“Did she tell you to come home?” 

My brow furrows. “What?” 

“You went to my mother’s apartment and now you’re here. Was I right? Should you have stayed home?” 

“Oh, uh… no.” I shake my head, his surprise presence leaving me a little dazed as I try to figure out what to say next. Thankfully, the fact that his presence is a surprise gives me the perfect diversionary tactic. “What are you doing home?” 

His expression slips into something close to concern, but he moves his eyes away from mine and back to the stacks of papers around him before I can get a real read on what that slip means. “My meeting this morning was much more brief than I expected. The rest of this, I could work on from home and I thought there was a good possibility that you wouldn’t make it through the day. Not with the way you looked this morning when I left you.” 

I press my lips together and move towards him, lowering myself on the sofa at his side and swinging my legs into his lap. He reaches down and pulls my shoes from my feet, then starts to rub. I moan and let my head fall back on the armrest. 

See, he loves me. I shouldn’t be scared to tell him good news…

“What’s all this?” I ask, in a cowardly move to buy more time. He lights up. 

“Well, this…” He straightens a stack of papers on the table, dotted throughout with yellow signature tabs. “Is an agreement I’ve made with Lamborghini to utilize Endurance technology.” His eyes flash with a kind of pleasure that’s usually reserved for me, naked and tied to his headboard. “They’ve agreed to let Welch do most of the design on the new model and he’s managed to integrate several features I’ve wanted for years.” 

“So you’re getting a custom Lamborghini?’ 

“An energy-efficient custom Lamborghini that has more power than any combustion engine that’s ever been created.” His smile is as wide as I’ve ever seen it as he makes the correction, and it actually relieves a little bit of the pressure on my chest. He’s in a good mood. That’s good, right?

“What’s that?” I ask, nodding to the stack of papers on the other side of the table. Chrisitan looks at it before picking up a folder off the top of the pile and handing it over to me. 

“That is from our lawyers. I’m adjusting Calliope’s trust fund.” 

“Adjusting?” I open the folder and my eyes widen at the new number displayed at the top. “Holy shit, Christian!” 

“I’ve made a lot of money over the past month.” He puts his hands up defensively. “I just want to make sure I’m taking care of my daughter.” 

Of course he does. Because he’s a good father. 

“I think you were taking care of her just fine with $10,000,000. This is…” 

He shakes his head and cuts me off. “I walked away from ten million when I was in college. Put another zero on the end of that, I wouldn’t have walked away.” 

I glare at him. “Well, I’m glad to know that money would have been enough to make you stay when I wasn’t.” 

“That’s not fair. You weren’t supposed to go anywhere. If I had known what was waiting for me on the other side of that decision, I would have gone all the way through a PhD program to hang on to you.” 

I laugh, and it obscures my retort. “No, you wouldn’t have.” 

“No.” He grins. “But I would have done everything differently.” I sit up and lean into him, pressing my lips against his and savoring the taste of his love. I could stay there forever, but he pulls us both out of it with one whispered question against my mouth. 

“What did she tell you?” 

“What?” 

“My mother. If she didn’t tell you that you were sick and needed to come home, what did she tell you? It was obviously enough to get you to leave work, which I thought was an impossibility without some kind of crowbar.” 

His eyes are alight with humor at his own joke, but I feel my stomach drop. 

“Oh…” 

“Ana?” The smile on his face vanishes and he reaches up for my forehead again. “What’s wrong?” 

There’s no point in delaying it. It’s not like he won’t find out and he’ll be more upset that I kept a secret from him. I didn’t have time to think of some clever way to ease him into the announcement, so I take a deep, reassuring breath, and reach into my bag instead. 

Maybe he won’t be upset. Maybe it will be just like when I told him about Calliope.

With hands that are once again trembling, I remove the plastic sticks from my bag and place them one by one on the table in front of us. With each tiny clink against the glass surface, Christian’s eyes tick a degree wider and the color completely drains from his face. 

“Tell me that’s not what I think it is.” 

Okay. Not like Calliope.

I swallow, nervously. “It is. I–I have more… they’re all positive.” 

His jaw tenses and he looks down at the pregnancy tests in front of him as with so much contempt it’s like he’s trying to make them burst into flames and burn out existence. 

“What about your birth control?” 

“I don’t know. I didn’t take anything that should have made it less effective, I didn’t…” I shake my head, unsure of what else to add to the list. “I don’t know why it didn’t work. You must have superpowered sperm or something.” 

His eyes flash to me, hot and angry. “That’s not funny, Anastasia.” 

“I’m not trying to be funny.”

He pushes off the sofa and begins to pace back and forth across the living room rug, though pace doesn’t quite encompass the angry energy rolling off of him as he starts trying to reason through this problem aloud. 

“You were… eight weeks pregnant when you started having symptoms with Calliope? That means you’ve got to be somewhere around there now. Eight weeks is early. We have time.” He stops pacing and stares blankly ahead for a few, long heartbeats. Then he turns to me, and his face looks somber. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to have to go through this… believe me. But I’m going to be here the entire time. For every part of it. No work. No distractions. I promise.” 

Oh my god, Grace was right. 

Relief boils over every cell in my body and the hopeful joy that I’d gotten just the smallest taste of in Grace’s apartment comes rushing back, filling my chest to its fullest capacity once again as my heart beats wildly in satisfaction. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Of course I’m sure.” 

“But… nine months is an awfully long time for you to solely be devoted to me. What about Endurance?” 

“Nine months?” His brow crinkles, and when he responds, it’s in a voice that leaves no room for argument. “There will not be nine months, Anastasia. I’m not interested in having any more children.” 

I frown. “Well, I’m sorry… we’re having a baby.”

“No. We’re not.” His back goes stiff while I blink back at him, uncomprehending. There’s a fight brewing in the set of his jaw when he tilts his head ever-so-slightly to the side, and trouble begins to brew in his gray eyes. “Do you need me to spell it out for you?”

I don’t, and the moment that ugly word pops into my head, it festers in the air around me. I have to leap from the couch and sprint for the bathroom to puke. Christian once again appears behind me as I heave again and again, but the gentle caress of his hand on my back isn’t comforting. I cringe away from him as my heart starts to race and it becomes harder and harder to draw breath. When I’m finally able to talk again, I’m on the edge of hysterics. 

“Ana–” 

“Don’t touch me!” I take a step out of his reach and stare up at him with all the strength I can muster through my tear filled eyes. “Are you telling me that you want me to… to…” I can’t even say it out loud through the bile creeping up my throat, and the care and concern reflected in his moody eyes is at odds with the tense and unyielding set of his jaw. 

“Yes. As soon as possible.” 

“How could you?!”

“You can’t be serious right now…”

“I’m dead fucking serious. This is our baby, Christian! Calliope’s brother or sister… how could you even suggest…?”

He takes a step towards me, disregarding my earlier command and taking hold of me by the arms. The action demands I stare into his intense gaze as he starts to make his case. “Don’t think of it like that.” 

“Don’t think of it like that? How the fuck else am I supposed to think of it?” 

“Ana, this isn’t up for discussion.” 

“You’re goddamn right it’s not up for discussion because it isn’t an option!” The protective fury brewing inside of me at the mere suggestion grows hotter with each word, which only provokes Chrisitan further. 

“You almost died!” he screams back at me. “It is an actual fucking miracle that you didn’t and miracles are not something I’m willing to rely on when it comes to  protecting your life. You didn’t live through that the way I did. You didn’t have to feel what it was like to lose you over and over again. You didn’t have to hear the heart beats on the monitor stop. You didn’t have to watch everyone we know and love give up on you one by one and have to actually fight them off just to keep you alive. I. Am. Not. Going. Through. That. Again.” 

Each word is punctuated by his determined sincerity, but it does nothing to shake my resolve. Not even a chip in the foundation. 

I look him dead in the eye and straighten my back. “It’s too late, Christian. If this is how you really felt, then you were free to wear a condom each and every fucking time we had sex. You didn’t.”

He grinds his teeth together, looking as though he’s trying to hold back a torrent of angry words, but I don’t stick around to hear them. He can yell all he wants, there’s no debate for us to have. I turn and march for the stairs. 

“I’m making the appointment tomorrow, Anastasia!” His angry voice calls after me.

“Then you’ll be going alone!” 

Next Chapter

I am not getting sick.

I am NOT. GETTING. SICK..

I glare into the tired blue eyes staring back at me in the mirror, as though I can intimidate myself into warding off germs. This morning, I woke up with a pounding sinus headache and have been sniffling all day. We got a warning from Calliope’s daycare when we took her home Friday that a few of the other kids in her playroom had come down with a cold. Of course, she seems perfectly fine. I, on the other hand, am tired, achy, and struggling to breathe.

And I have absolutely no time to deal with any of it.

At midnight tonight, Barney is running his first maintenance update on the Greenwich Library app, Hailey Lewis has confirmed lunch for tomorrow afternoon, and Mia’s hastily thrown together welcome home/going away dinner is in less than an hour.

After spending all summer indulging in European cuisine, the only thing Mia said she wanted to eat tonight was greasy, deep fried American food that she could slather in ketchup and feel bad about later. When she said it, I thought it was perfect because this weekend just so happens to also be Gail’s Sunday off, and I’ve been left with the responsibility of cooking for everyone. Hot dogs, hamburgers, and french fries sound like an easy thing to whip together in theory, until you’re standing over a 10 lb pile of whole potatoes that you have to cut into thin, perfect strips before they can be fried.

Thank god Kate offered to help. 

Yanking one last tissue from the Kleenex box on the bathroom counter, I blow my nose as hard as I can and take a breath. For the first time all day, it actually comes unobstructed.

See, I’m really not getting sick.

With new confidence, I march out of the bathroom and back to the kitchen, where I find Kate slicing vegetables and swinging her hips to Cyndi Lauper. I give her a slanted glance as I go into the pantry and remove our brand new deep fryer.

“Having our own personal 80s revival, are we?” I ask in a teasing voice. She grins at me.

“I just really feel like I need to get back to my roots, you know?”

“So you can…?”

“Find enlightenment, obviously.” She turns to give me a smug look, but it breaks with pain as she misses the potato in her hand and slices her finger. “Owe, fuck!”

“Oh, Katie…” Heaving the heavy appliance onto the counter, I dart back into the pantry to retrieve the first aid kit. When I return, Kate’s running her bloody finger under the tap, whimpering slightly as the cool water stings her skin. I hand her a paper towel and pat my hand against the counter next to the sink. “Hop up here.”

She does, then she pouts while I take her hand and start wiping away the blood still persistently bubbling through her skin. Tossing it to the side, I pick up a Band-Aid, but I can’t rip away the paper wrapper while I’m pinching her fingertip to staunch the bleeding.

“Help me?” I ask, holding up the Band-Aid so she can rip one side while I take the other. She doesn’t move though. “Hello? Earth to Kate?”

“Sorry.” She shakes her head as if shaking away a daze, then gives me a very serious look. “Did you get a new bra? Your boobs look amazing.”

“You’re seriously staring at my boobs right now?” 

“How could I not? I mean, damn.”

I roll my eyes, but feel a secret twinge of satisfaction. My secret is that my bra is actually attached to a complicated corset that’s got my boobs jacked all the way up to my collarbones. They’re actually getting a little sore from being so tightly bound for as many hours as I’ve been wearing it, but if it’s got Kate this excited, I imagine the pain will all be worth it the moment Christian gets his first glimpse.

After finally getting the Band-Aid around her finger, I take a step back from the counter, and Kate hops down, dancing her way back to the cutting board on the center island. She grabs the knife again and does a spin that makes me cringe.

“Will you be careful?” I snap at her. “That’s my best friend’s life you’re playing with right now.” 

“I heard that.”

For the first time in hours, my attention is drawn to the kitchen table on the other side of the breakfast bar. Luke is sitting there, but he’s been so quiet that I keep forgetting he’s here. He’s been on his phone all day and each time he picks it up, he becomes a little more withdrawn. I can only guess that it has something to do with this new mystery girl I don’t get to know anything about and, judging by the look on his face as he once again picks up his phone and reads whatever is displayed on the screen, it’s not going well. I don’t think it’s been going well all week…

But he doesn’t want to talk about it.

“I’m very sorry,” I tell him, trying to lift his mood a little as I turn back to Kate. “Please be more cautious with the life of the sister, formally known as my best friend.”

“Better,” Luke muses. “But you could just drop the ‘best friend’ bit all together if you wanted to make it perfect. We all know it was a dubious claim to begin with once I came into the picture.”

The backdoor opens and Christian saunters in just as Kate shoots a look full of vitriol back at my CPO. “You think you’re her best friend but it was me who literally saved her life when we were eight and she hurt her leg playing on the playground. It certainly wasn’t you who had to pedal her ass all the way the fuck across Montesano.”

“So, like three blocks?” Christian smirks at her, but she scoffs.

“It was at least six.”

With a laugh, he turns to me, but I’ve missed the entire conversation. I’m too distracted by the drops of water from the pool dripping off the ends of his hair and down the smooth contours of his chest and abs. His skin is golden from the afternoon sun and it takes every ounce of my restraint to stop myself from touching him. Maybe it’s because he’s been around so much more these past few weeks and I’ve actually had time to become addicted to him again. Or maybe it’s that he changed trainers and his arms and chest are so thick and perfectly sculpted now that staring at him makes my mouth water. 

“Still having trouble breathing?” he asks, concerned. I smile and look up at him adoringly.

“Only because you take my breath away.”

“Ugh, gross,” Kate says, turning away from us to rinse another batch of potatoes in the sink. Christian takes advantage of her distraction and pushes me back into the refrigerator. I giggle and reach up to kiss him, but the moment his tongue crosses the threshold of my lips, Elliot appears through the same doorway and gives each of us a stern look.

“Jesus, you two. Get a freaking room.”

Christian rounds on him, glaring. “Need I remind you that you’re currently standing in my house?”

“And need I remind you that you came in here to get your daughter a popsicle, not to assault your wife?”

“He doesn’t go anywhere without the intention of assaulting me,” I say, deftly maneuvering out of his hold and skipping back to turn on the deep fryer and start heating the oil. Christian lets out a sigh, moves to the freezer, and rifles around for the popsicles that are buried under the bags and bags of frozen fruit he blends with his protein shakes.

After several seconds of digging and muttered cursing, he finally pulls out the frozen treats in triumph. Of course, Calliope won’t just take the one he offers her. She needs a variety of colors to choose from. And while she diligently considers every flavor with the same air of importance I once used to decide which college I was going to attend, the doorbell rings. Luke gets out of his seat to answer it, and Calliope finally chooses a pink popsicle.

The exact one Christian had given her the first time.

Kate, Elliot, and I laugh as he takes a deep breath to keep his composure, peels away the plastic, and hands her the treat. Every ounce of his annoyance disappears though when she licks the end of the popsicle and beams up at him like he’s brought her ambrosia straight from Mount Olympus. His chest swells and he looks around the room, glowing with pride.

“Most powerful man on the planet,” Elliot says. “Completely controlled by a one year old.”

Christian glares at him. “She’s very mature for her age.”

“No she’s not. You got her the popsicle because she wouldn’t stop trying to eat her boogers.” He laughs so hard he actually has to lean over on the breakfast bar to support himself. While we all wait for him to stop, my father wanders awkwardly into the kitchen with Luke right behind him.

My heartbeat quickens, thudding noisily in my chest. I was convinced he wasn’t coming. When I finally worked up the courage to call and invite him, he told me no. He said he thought it would be better to give Christian a few weeks before he came around again, and no amount of pleading or bargaining changed his mind. But here he is, and the gesture he’s made by coming tonight almost drives me to tears.

“Hi, Daddy,” I say, moving across the kitchen to wrap him in a tight hug. He accepts it willingly, even squeezes me back like he really means it. “Thank you for coming.”

“Oh, stop it. You know there’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be than right here with you, sweetheart.” I hum in appreciation, but his arms move up and he pushes me back from him. “But it’s an awfully long drive back, so I wouldn’t say no to an invitation to stay the night.”

“Of course,” Christian says over my shoulder. We both turn to look at him, and he holds his hand out for my father’s. “I’m really glad to see you, Ray.”

My dad hesitates for a moment, then shakes his hand. “Thank you, Christian.”

“Can I get you a beer?”

And just like that, the tension breaks from my father’s face and he smiles. “Sure. Thanks, son.”

Christian moves to the fridge and once again the doorbell rings. I feel myself relaxing again as my dad finds Calliope sitting on the floor, dripping in pink. He pulls her into his arms, marveling at the popsicle she holds out to him like it’s a great prize.

“I’m back, bitches!” Mia cheers, following Luke through the archway into the foyer. Christian slides a cold, glass bottle into my father’s hand and rushes from the kitchen. When he makes it to his sister, he sweeps her up into a hug so hard, her feet leave the ground.

“Welcome home, Meems,” he says, once he’s set her on the floor again. She shoves her arms to each side and gives him a look like she’s about to drop a bombshell.

“You and I have to talk!”

“Oh?”

“I was in Prague, and there was this news stand next to the café that Tippy and I were having breakfast in that had this tabloid with a picture of you on the cover. So, I had the waiter translate it for me and it said that…”

“He doesn’t have a penis,” Elliot interrupts, walking towards them, hanging his head in shame. He grips Mia’s shoulder and bends down to her eye level. “We didn’t want you to find out this way…”

She sloughs his hand from her shoulder and narrows her eyes at him. “He has a kid, dingus.”

Elliot grins. “I thought you said you were reading the tabloids. Haven’t you heard? Calliope’s father is Luke.” He gestures to the kitchen table and Luke shakes his head in dismay.

“Can we keep me out of this, please?”

“Yes, please,” Christian says. “I will hit you, Elliot.”

Elliot laughs, then leans over to kiss the top of Mia’s head. “Glad you’re back, kiddo.”

“And you make me glad I’m about to leave again.”

“Amelia!” Grace chides her, and Mia grumbles an apology to Elliot before turning back to Christian.

“Anyway, the tabloids are saying that you destroyed your company and that you’re poor now.”

He makes a big show of rolling his eyes. “I swear, the things they come up with…”

She laughs, like the whole thing is ridiculous, then moves to take Kennedy out of her mother’s arms. “Oh my god, she’s so much bigger!”

The moment Mia has hold of her, Kennedy starts to wail. Mia rocks her and tries to shush her, but the tighter she’s squeezed, the harder she screams.

“You’ve been gone too long,” Elliot says, taking his distraught daughter from her and instantly ending her tantrum. “She doesn’t remember you.”

“But—“

“Meem!”

Mia turns to the kitchen to see my father looking at Calliope, but pointing to her. “That’s right,” he praises her. “That’s Aunt Mia.”

Mia gives Elliot a haughty smile and starts for the kitchen. “Ah, there’s my favorite niece.” My dad hands her over and as Mia settles her weight on her hip, she glances back at him. “Hey, Ray. Where’s Kim?”

“Uh…” He stutters, his eyes darting quickly back and forth in search of a response.

“Ray, do you want to do the grilling?” Christian asks, moving quickly into the kitchen to retrieve the burgers from the fridge. “Everyone’s here, we might as well get started.”

“Sure,” he replies, relieved for the break in tension. He takes the brown paper wrappings Christian hands him then leads the men into the backyard. Christian shoots a warning look between Mia and I as he follows and I sigh.

“What was that about?” Mia asks, handing Calliope to Grace so she can take her and Kennedy to the playroom.

“Christian banned Kim from the house,” Kate answers in a blunt tone, moving the bowl of cut potatoes to the fryer. “They left Calliope with her and Ray while they were in New York and Kim posted a picture of her on PixC.”

“I was going to ask about that!” Mia exclaims. “Are we allowed to post pictures of the baby now?”

“Is Kim allowed in my house?” I give Mia an unamused look, and then just to be absolutely clear, I add, “No, do not ever post pictures of Calliope online. Period.”

“Whatever,” Mia says, rolling her eyes. And it’s amazing how even in that whatever, I still trust her more than I ever trusted Kim.

I turn to the counter so I can help Kate with the french fries, but we’re not as intelligent about it as our Harvard education would suggest. She grabs a handful of raw potatoes and tosses them into the fryer. The moment the hot oil comes into contact with the wet surface of the starchy vegetables, it pops and splatters all over the both of us.

“Ah!” We scream in unison, diving away from the fryer. When we stand again, I glare at her.

“Smooth move.”

“Well, I’m sorry I’ve never deep fried anything before!”

“Guys.” Mia’s voice is so quiet that neither one of us hears it.

“Well, let me take over then.” I grab hold of her arms to move her to the side and approach the fryer with caution.

“Guys?”

The fries are sizzling nicely beneath the rolling oil and the popping seems to have stopped, so I grab the handle and pull the basket out of the fryer. Once I’ve loosened the moist potatoes already inside, I add a few more and shake it out again.

“Guys…”

“That’s too many,” Kate argues, trying to take the basket from my hand.

“Guys!”

We both snap our heads in Mia’s direction at the same time. “What?!”

She glances over her shoulder, ensuring there’s no one coming up behind us. Then she actually goes to the window to make sure all the boys are fully occupied at the barbeque. When she turns back to face us again, Kate and I are exchanging nervous glances.

“What’s up, Meems?” I ask hesitantly, setting the basket back in the oil and giving her my full attention. She takes a deep breath.

“I had sex this summer…”

“Oh my god!” Kate practically leaps at her, then yanks her to a barstool at the counter and shoves her down on it. “Start talking.”

Mia blushes. “It was when I was in Greece… We stayed there for a little over a week and the first night we were there we were dancing at this club in Mykonos. I met this guy named Nikolaos.”

“And…?” Kate presses her.

“I don’t know. We hung out. He showed us around, we went to the beach, we flirted, we had dinner… I liked him. I spent pretty much every second with him while we were there, and then the night before the girls and I left for Italy, he walked me back to my room and it just kind of… happened.”

“On your last night?” I ask. She nods.

“Did he go with you to Italy?” Kate asks.

“No. He stayed the night with me that night, we had breakfast the next morning, and then he just… took me to the ferry.”

“Oh, Meems…”

“It was okay,” she says, waving off the concern in my voice. “I liked him but I wasn’t in love with him. I didn’t want him to be my boyfriend or anything. I just… I didn’t tell the other girls and I wanted to tell someone. I thought it should be my sisters.”

I smile at her, but Kate doesn’t. “He didn’t do anything you didn’t want him to, did he? Because I swear to god, I’ll fly the fuck back to Greece right now, and…”

“No!” Mia interrupts her. “It was fine. Everything about it was fine. He was nice to me, he took care of me while it was happening, he didn’t treat me like dirt when it was over… It was fine.”

I raise an eyebrow at her. “Just fine, huh?”

“Yeah.” She huffs and it makes her deflate a little. “I don’t know. All this hype and… it was just fine.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, kiddo, but they’re not all winners out there,” Kate says. “Not even the cute ones who should have had lots of practice.”

Mia agrees with a laugh, but when Kate turns back to the fryer, she leans in to me. “Ana, when you and Christian had sex for the first time… how did you feel afterward?”

“Like I just found out magic was real.” Mia frowns, so I reach out and pick up her chin to make her look at me. “Talk to me.”

“I just thought it would change me, you know? I thought I would feel different or it would make me see the world in a new way. I thought it would be like some crazy revelation and… it wasn’t. It mostly hurt, then it was kind of weird. I’m not upset about it or anything, I don’t regret it. I’m just like… was that it?”

“He wasn’t the one. That’s all.”

“You think so?”

“Trust me. When you find the guy who you can’t stop thinking about, who takes your breath away each and every time you’re around him, and who makes your heart feel like it’s going to explode out of your chest… that’s the guy who will take you to bed and rock your whole universe.”

She smiles like she can’t contain the sweet-tinted emotions boiling up inside of her. “Awh… you’re so in love with my brother.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” I roll my eyes and laugh. As the sound dies out, I reach over the counter and grip her hand. “Do you have any questions?”

“Questions about what?” Christian’s voice comes from the other side of the kitchen. He’s carrying a plate of grilled polish sausages. Mia spins toward him and her eyes go wide with panic.

“Nothing!”

Christian isn’t dissuaded by her shrieked response. He glances between the three of us suspiciously, then repeats himself. “Questions about what?”

“Harvard,” I reply, as though he’s finally worn us down. “She’s worried that she’ll be an outcast and wanted some advice about getting invited to parties.”

“Just stay away from finals clubs,” Kate says, her back still turned to us as she takes the cooked fries from the oil and lowers another batch. Once the oil starts bubbling out of control again, she turns back to Mia, crosses her arms over her chest, and gives her a very stern look. “They’re rape palaces.”

“Stay away from parties altogether,” Christian says. “You should be more like Ana and focus on your studies.”

Luke, who I’ve once again forgotten all about in his monk-like silence, snorts and breaks down laughing at the dining room table. Even Kate snickers as she pulls a bottle of ketchup out of the fridge. I glare at both of them.

“Sometimes I forget how much of Ana’s time at Harvard you weren’t around for,” Kate says to Christian. “I could probably count second-semester sophomore year Ana’s sober nights on one hand.”

“Ugh, second-semester sophomore year Ana was the worst,” Luke agrees. “Two stars, would not recommend.”

“You know what,” I start, glaring angrily between the two of them. I look up at Christian, expecting him to defend me, but he shrugs.

“I didn’t get to be there. Second-semester sophomore year Ana is also not my favorite iteration of you.”

“Oh, yeah? You’re about to like this iteration a whole lot less if heads don’t start rolling around here for talking shit about your wife, Mr. Grey.”

He sighs, but nods. “Kate, when you and Elliot broke up, you had sex with Carter Reed. So I don’t want to hear judgement about anything out of you… ever. Sawyer, you’re dismissed.”

“Really?” Luke immediately perks up.

“Yes,” Christian replies. “The security office is that way, go occupy it.”

With a disappointed sigh, he nods, gets up, and leaves the room. He pauses before he makes it through the archway though. Then he locks eyes with me and once again mouths, “the worst.” I lunge towards him, but Christian catches me around the arm and drags me into the dining room.

Sitting around the table with my family feels more like home than all the work and travel we’ve been doing has allowed in quite some time. No one has a bombshell to drop or drama to start. We all just sit there and listen to Mia tell stories about Europe over a table full of junk food. My dad and I both smother our hot dogs in cream cheese and grilled onions, which has Christian glancing over at us in disgust every thirty seconds. But that only makes the whole experience more enjoyable.

“Did you meet any boys while you were travelling?” Grace asks, trying to be sly. Mia’s cheeks immediately go pink.

“You know, I think we’ve talked enough about me. We haven’t heard anything from Kate, and I bet Kate has all kinds of stuff to talk about. Don’t you, Kate? Don’t you have so many things you want to talk about right now?”

“Uh… yeah,” Kate says, pausing while she thinks of something to fill the silence surrounding the seven pairs of eyes that turn in her direction. “We’re running a story tomorrow morning about the protests that have been going on at City Hall all week.”

“Protests?” I ask. I’ve been out of town most of the week, but this is the first I’ve heard about protests.

“Yeah, about the transportation cuts. There are like 30% fewer buses, ferries, and trains running every day and it’s severely impacting the commuter community. We interviewed a few of the leaders who put the demonstration together and they gave us a list of demands. So, we’re going to publish it.”

Carrick glares at her. “Why? So the yuppy tech bros downtown who this doesn’t affect at all can hate me too? My approval numbers have been in free fall since those people started marching.”

“Hey, I don’t make the news,” Kate says, raising her hands defensively. “I just report it.”

“Yeah, well if I could do something about it, I would. Those budget cuts were a necessary part of this years… revenue shortfalls.” The way Carrick says the last words, and glances in Christian’s direction as he says them, makes it clear that he’s talking about the GEH tax cuts. Christian gives Calliope another French fry and leans casually back in his chair, reaching an arm over my chair and resting it lazily on my shoulder.

“How much is the shortage?”

“We had to cut $13 million from SDOT.”

Christian nods. “I’ll set up a $15 million grant to donate to the city’s transportation fund.

Carrick looks taken aback by Christian’s offer. Slowly, his eyebrows knit themselves together and he blinks a few times like he’s misunderstood what was said. Christian shakes his head, then leans over the table towards his father.

“Despite what you may think, I actually care a great deal about this city. I care even more about your success as Mayor. Besides, I employ commuters too. A well funded infrastructure is good business.”

“Of course he makes it about GEH,” Mia says. He shoots her a self-righteous grin.

“Well, whatever your reasons,” Carrick begins. “I really appreciate that, son. There are people in this city that are struggling, and I want to help them. It’s a very noble offer, so thank you.”

“It’s not, but you’re welcome.” He exchanges a glance with his father that holds a warmth that’s been absent since they went to war with each other last spring. I think Grace sees it just as clearly as I do because she brings a hand to her chest and fights to hold back her sentimental smile. Elliot on the other hand empties his pilsner and coughs to get Christian’s attention.

“What?”

“I was just thinking… I could use $15 million. You know, if you’re just handing it out.” Christian reaches over for my plate to pick up one of the fries I didn’t finish and hurls it across the table at his brother. Elliot just narrows his eyes at him. “So, no?”

We all laugh, then turn back to Mia, who actually does have several questions about her impending departure for Harvard.

Once dinner is finished and Mia has asked every single thing about Cambridge that she could possibly think of, we walk everyone to the door and say our goodbyes. Kate and Elliot are out quick, eager to get Kennedy back home and into bed. Grace dawdles, unwilling to give up Calliope.

“You know she could come home with us,” she offers, hugging her granddaughter tightly to her chest.

“Not tonight, Mom,” Christian says. Grace frowns, but after one last big squeeze, she passes Calliope back to him. Carrick wraps his arms around me, then holds his hand out for Christian.

“I’ll be in touch with your office to set up that grant,” Christian tells him.

“Good. I’ll clear my schedule for you, son.” They nod at each other as their hands fall to their side, but just before Carrick turns to leave. He stops and pulls Christian in for a hug. “It was good seeing you tonight, Christian.”

“Yeah, you too.”

“I love you, son.”

Christian smiles and nods to his father. “Yeah, you too.”

With a wink, Carrick takes Grace’s hand and, with a lighter stride than the one that carried him in here, he leads her through the front doors and out into the night.

“Well, I guess this is goodnight, kids,” my dad says, hovering at the foot of the stairs behind us. I open my mouth to argue, but stop myself and turn back to Christian. He nods, like he already knows what I’m going to say.

“Go ahead. I’ll put Calliope to bed.”

“Thank you.” I give him a quick, but deep kiss, then move my lips to each of Calliope’s chubby cheeks. “Goodnight, Calli-lilly.”

“Bye-bye, Mommy.”

My dad is already in his room when I make it upstairs. I try to show him around a bit, let him know where he’ll find the things he needs, or extra blankets if he gets cold. He catches me by the shoulders on my third lap around the room.

“Annie, I’ve been here a million times. There’s no need to fuss over me.”

I nod, but instead of leaving him on his own, I take a seat on the edge of his bed. “You were quiet at dinner.”

He shrugs. “It wasn’t really about me.”

“It was about family. You’re family.”

“Yeah, I know.” There’s a sadness behind his voice that tugs painfully at my heart, and I feel myself start to shrink. The same way I did when I thought I disappointed him as a child.

I take a shaky breath. “I’m followed everywhere I go, Daddy. And every time I have Calliope, the paparazzi gets more aggressive because that picture Kim posted blew up and now they think they can make money off of her. They scream at me, they grab me, they curse at me and flip me off to try to get me to react… It’s scary. It scares her. It makes Luke’s job so much more difficult, and I swear Christian is going to lose his shit one day and we’re going to end up in court again….” 

“I know, Annie. Christian made all of this very clear the last time I was here.” 

“But I don’t want you–” 

“Ana.” He stops and turns a stern look on me. “It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about me, and you don’t have to worry about Kim. She’s not going to be a problem anymore.” 

“What do you mean?”

“We’re no longer seeing each other. Her kids helped her move out this weekend, and I fully expect her keys to be waiting for me on the kitchen counter when I get home. It’s over.”

“What… why?” He gives me a look that makes it clear I should know exactly why, but I shake my head. “I didn’t tell you to… I mean, I didn’t mean for you to, uh… I just wanted—”

“Her out of your life,” he finishes for me. “You wanted her out of your life and you have since the day I first introduced you. The only thing that was keeping this together was Christian, because he was trying. But I saw how serious he was when he said Kim wouldn’t be welcome here again. And if she wasn’t welcome and I stood by her, it would only be a matter of time before that included me too.”

“Daddy, that is not true,” I argue. “I would never let that happen, no matter what.”

“You wouldn’t have to, sweetheart. If Kim was left at home waiting for me every time I came up here to see you, I’d just start coming less and less often. You’d get used to me declining invitations, until, eventually, you’d stop offering them. We’d have holidays with her kids, you’d have holidays with Grace and Carrick. I want nothing to do with that, Annie. I don’t want to miss Calliope growing up and I don’t want a miss a second of time I could be spending with you. You’re the most important thing in the world to me. Period.”

I feel the sting of tears behind my eyes and I have to look down at the floor before any of them actually break through the surface. His arms wrap around me and he pulls me into the familiar chest that’s comforted me innumerable times. This time, though, it only makes me feel worse.

“I love you, Daddy. I really, really love you.”

“I know, baby girl. I love you too. But you gotta get out of here because I’m exhausted and I’m going to bed.”

I nod against his t-shirt, then take a deep breath, wish him sweet dreams, and shuffle back to my bedroom. I can hear Christian reading to Calliope through her bedroom door, so I climb into bed and sit there, staring at the wall, and feeling miserable.

“Exactly where I hoped to find you,” Christian says, when he finally comes through the door. He moves to the bed and crawls over the top of me, seeking out my lips, but just before he makes his target, I hold up my hand to stop him.

“We need to talk,” I tell him. He lets out a disappointed breath and his head falls.

“Now?”

“Yes, right now.”

“Okay.” He rolls off of me and plops down on the bed next to me, pouting up at the ceiling like someone just took his favorite toy away. “What do you want to talk about?”

“My dad and Kim broke up.”

“Oh. Well, that’s much more convenient.”

“Christian!” I slap him across the chest and turn my whole body towards him, glaring. “She’s the only person he has! He lives in the actual middle of nowhere. He doesn’t have neighbors anymore, all of his buddies live over an hour away from him, we never go to visit him… he’s all alone. And I can’t…” I start shaking my head, too overwhelmed with guilt and sadness to finish the sentence. Christian brushes his hand back and forth over my back as he too sits up.

“So, what do you want me to do? Do you want me to buy him an apartment in the city so he can be closer to us?”

“No, he wouldn’t come if you did.  I– I–, ugh, I don’t know what I want.”

“Then we’ll start making more of an effort to go visit your father. One weekend a month, as often as we can. Any other time, he’s welcome to come stay with us. He knows that.”

I nod, because I know it’s the best we’re realistically going to be able to come up with, but I still feel like we’ve fallen about a hundred miles short of the mark. The attempt I make to say that is cut off though, when the room is suddenly filled with the piercing sound of the security alarm, blaring from downstairs.

Christian goes tense for half a second, then leaps from the bed and rushes to the door. I’m right on his tail, but he barks back at me to take Calliope into the safe room.

“Without you, are you insane?” I scream over the shrill siren echoing through my halls. He stops and rounds on me, just as we hear the door down the hall open and my father steps out looking confused.

“Stay with Calliope,” I tell him, then I grab Christian’s hand and start dragging him to the stairs. The moment we’re out of the hall, he snatches me by the wrist and yanks me behind him, shielding my body with his as we peer over the railing and into the dark entryway below. Taylor is standing in the middle of the foyer with his gun drawn on a shadowy figure by the door, and my heart starts racing.

“Get on the ground,” Taylor commands, and when the silhouette he’s aiming at hesitates, I hear him click the safety off his gun.

“Wait!” Luke shouts from somewhere in the dark. He comes barreling into the foyer and immediately puts himself between Taylor’s gun and the person cowering against the door. Christian reaches along the wall, in search of a light switch, and when he finally hits it, the mysterious intruder turns into… Jade.

“I’m so sorry,” her fear filled voice whispers to Luke. “I messed up the code and the alarm started going off… I didn’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay,” Luke says, offering her a comforting hand, but not taking his eyes off the gun. Taylor seems to come to his senses then and lowers his weapon, but his gaze is just as stern. Without the threat of the gun though, Luke doesn’t seem to pay him much mind. He turns to Christian, as though he’s expecting a tirade.

It doesn’t come.

“You’re an employee, Sawyer. Employees don’t get to have guests. This is my home, not your personal fuck pad. My daughter is asleep upstairs.”

“Yes, sir. I know, and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t. Ana?” Christian holds his hand out for mine like he’s just going to let it all go. Instead, I stomp down the stairs.

“Start explaining, Lucas,” I tell him, shoving a finger in his face. He turns alarmed eyes on Taylor before shaking his head at me. 

“Ana, I don’t want to talk–”

“Our break-up wasn’t real,” Jade interrupts him. I look over at her, blinking. 

“What?” 

“It was my idea,” she continues, taking a step out from behind Luke and looking at me sheepishly.  “He was miserable. The only way he can have you in his life is if he has this job, and when he doesn’t have you he’s this different person that’s not.. Not who I fell in love with. So, when it became clear at that dinner that coming back here was the only way things were going to be resolved between him and Christian… I did the only thing I could think to do. I broke up with him in front of all of you so you had the proof, and then, when we got home, I told him I didn’t mean it. We’ve been seeing each other in secret ever since.”

“This is the first time she’s been here,” Luke says, turning to Taylor. “I swear. Normally, I go to her, but…” He looks up at Christian, and I’m able to fill in the blanks. 

“He said no more nights away…”

“Please don’t fire him,” Jade says. “It’s my fault. We haven’t seen each other in over a week and we’ve been fighting about it… I was fighting with him about it. I just needed to see him.”

I reach out and squeeze her arm. “Of course you did.”  

The nervous glimmer in her eyes changes slightly, shining with a sudden burst of hope. She turns to Luke and smiles. “See? I told you she’d be okay with it if you just told her!” 

“Okay with it? Are you kidding me? This is great! Luke, I’ve been so worried that you were going to resent me for ruining your first true love but she’s still here! And you’re still in love! And there isn’t some secret bimbo out there who I don’t get to know! Oh, Jade! I think I’m in love with you!“ I leap forward and wrap my arms around her until she can’t breathe anymore.

“No,” Taylor interjects, looking between Jade, Luke, and I as though we’ve gone crazy. “I’m sorry, but this is not good news. We have policies on this team regarding outside romantic relationships, policies I now know are vitally important because of past relationships that were kept secret from me that then endangered the lives of almost every single person currently in this room. This is non-negotiable, you knew that when you came back, Sawyer.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. But I’m not Kommer, and she isn’t Gia. Taylor, I swear she won’t compromise me. I swear that my priority is still and will always be Ana. I’ll never bring her back here again, you won’t even know about her.”

“She’s already compromised you. You gave out the code to the front fucking door, Sawyer. What if she’s playing you to get to him?” He jerks his chin towards Christian, and Luke’s eyes dim with warning. 

“She’s not.” 

Taylor shakes his head. “You can’t know that.” 

“I do know that. You don’t think I did a background check the first fucking night I met her. You don’t think I’ve interviewed every one of her friends and acquaintances? You don’t think I tailed her for weeks before I even so much as gave her my phone number? Remember who you’re talking to, Taylor. I’m the one who does your wet work.” 

Taylor’s face goes stone still, and he takes an intimidating step towards Luke. “Not everything comes out in a background check, Luke, and the most dangerous people know exactly how to play their part. You know that as well as I do. That’s why I have the vetting process that I do. That’s why my people only come from very specific sources. That’s why there’s a transitionary period. But none of that matters because at the end of the day, you broke protocol. I have rules, and if you don’t like them… there’s the door.”

“Taylor–” 

“Make your choice, Sawyer.” 

Luke’s pained eyes move to me, then to Jade, then back to me. There’s torture reflected in the lines of his face the grows more and more stark with each pass of his gaze between us. His indecision grates on Taylor, who prods him with a stern, “Sawyer…”, and Luke finally lets his eyes settle on me.  He takes a breath, shakes his head, and lets his head fall in defeat. 

Then he turns to Jade. 

“She’s my family.”

“Yeah, I know.” Her bottom lip trembles and tears well in her eyes. She looks down at her shoes and wraps her arms all the way around her body, like she’s afraid she’s going to shatter over my entryway floor. “I’ve been waiting for this ever since you told me you weren’t going to be able to get away anymore. How do you have a relationship like this? I-I–” Her words cut off with impending tears, and she starts shaking her head. 

“I’m sorry, Jade,” Luke pleads with her. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t want it to be like this. I didn’t mean– but she, and I–” Whatever walls she had up break behind the swell of tears that come choking out of her. He pulls her against him, placing a hand over the back of her hair as she sobs into his shirt. His chin tilts up, and I see that his eyes are turning glassy too. “Please don’t cry, Jade. Please…”

“Ana?” I turn back and look at Christian, who gestures to me to join him so we can give Luke and Jade privacy. I shake my head in disgust.

“No, this isn’t happening.” I turn to Luke. “Sawyer, you’re fired.”

His head whips around so he can glare at me. “Ana, can you not right now…“

“I’m serious. You’re choosing wrong here, and I’m not going to let you. You’re fired, Luke. Effective immediately.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Grey,” Taylor says. “You don’t have that authority.”

I round on him. “Like fucking hell I don’t. My name is on the same bank account your paychecks come out of, and he’s my CPO.”

Taylor blinks back at me, unintimidated, then glances at Christian still standing at the top of the stairs. I implore him with my eyes to be on my side, but he doesn’t say anything. He stares down at us, taking in the whole situation, and considering what he wants to do in long, drawn out silence until I can’t take it anymore.

“He’s always going to be closer to me than he is to you and you’re never going to be able to control that. He’s been late, he failed to report… oh, and he totally touched my boob last week when he was trying to make me watch that disgusting horror movie and we got in a fight over the remote.”

Christian raises an eyebrow. “Do you want me to fire him, or kill him?”

“I want you to back me up here.”

“Ana… he’s the only person I’ve been able to keep on your service. He’s the only one you’ll listen to. He’s the only one who knows you well enough to predict what you’re going to do. Firing him makes you less safe.”

Oh great, now he sees that.

I cross my arms over my chest and stare back at him defiantly. “You told me there was nothing to be scared of anymore. You said no one was coming after us and I didn’t have to worry because we were safe. You’ve made sure we were safe, right? So we’re either safe enough that I don’t need Luke anymore, or we’re not as secure as you’re trying to make me believe. You don’t get to have it both ways, Christian. Are we safe or not?”

“That’s not fair, Ana. Security plays into that equation.” 

“So there is something to worry about then? There’s something or someone actively threatening us that makes his presence necessary?” 

“I didn’t say that…” 

I raise an eyebrow and Christian grinds his teeth together. He doesn’t say anything. He puts us through another long silence, spending most of it glaring at me, before he finally takes a deep breath, looks at Luke, and says, “You’re fired, Sawyer.”

“No, I’m not,” Luke snaps back without missing a beat, but I stop whatever he’s going to say next by grabbing him by his shoulder and forcing him to look at me.

“I let you pick me over her once and I didn’t like how that made me feel, or what it did to you. You’ve moved on from this job, Luke. You’ve started building a life, and that’s okay. I want that for you. This lifestyle isn’t supposed to be a forever thing. I know that. I accept that. I just want you to be happy.”

“I’m not leaving you unprotected.” 

“I have security.” 

“Yeah, and we both know how seriously you take that.” 

“Luke…” I beg him to take the out and choose his own happiness with my eyes, but he resists it. A glimmer of fear breaks through the defiance in his eyes, and he licks his lip nervously. 

“This is how I get to have you in my life, Ana. And I need you.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You’re my best friend, Luke. I think you’re in for life, buddy.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah.”

He takes a deep breath and turns to Taylor. “Who would you use to replace me?”

“Harper. Or Kelley.”

“Ugh.” Taylor doesn’t even get the names out before Luke is shaking his head. “She doesn’t do well with female CPOs.”

“Well, she’s got Smith and Wyatt.”

“And she hates them. You’ve got enough eyes on her, she needs someone she can trust. Someone she feels comfortable around.”

“Any suggestions?” Taylor directs the question at Luke, but he turns to me.

“Who do you want?” 

“Uh… I got along well with Woods.”

Taylor shakes his head. “Woods has been reassigned…”

“You think he’s the best?” Christian interjects, ignoring Taylor and looking at Luke. He tilts his head from side to side, like he can’t make a determination either way.

“Do I think he’s the best on Taylor’s team? No. Do I think he’s the best for Ana? Probably. He won’t be so trusting again to let her throw him off, but she doesn’t resent him the way she does everyone else. Plus, he’s already been vetted so he’s the only one who’s immediately available.”

“Then he’ll be here first thing tomorrow morning,” Christian says, looking back at Taylor. Taylor doesn’t look happy, but he nods, and Luke starts walking toward the living room. I scrunch my brow together and follow after him. 

“What are you–?”

“Smith!” he shouts. “Wyatt!”

They appear through the hallway that leads back to the staff quarters, each dressed and with a hand on their holster. Wyatt’s nervous eyes shift around the room, taking everything in, but Smith looks straight at Luke.

“Yes, sir?”

“Her pupils dilate when she lies,” he says. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Anastasia. Her pupils dilate when she lies. She looks at her fingers when she’s hiding something, and she clenches her jaw when she’s nervous. All of those things mean she’s up to something.” 

“Uh… okay.”

“And every time we go get coffee, she smells the cinnamon rolls and wants one– but they always make her feel like shit for the rest of the day, so don’t let her get one.” He takes a deep breath, then turns to look at me again before he continues. “And sometimes she gets really quiet and stares off into space with this empty, detached look in her eyes… that means she’s thinking about Lincoln, and if it starts happening more than once a day, you need to call me.” 

I fold my arms over my chest, surprised to have it laid out just how well my best friend knows me. How well he reads me. I turn back to Christian, and see him staring at Luke with a furrowed brow and an uneasy glimmer in the gray of his eyes. 

“Uh… yes, sir,” Smith says. 

Luke’s eyes somehow turn colder, and the menacing look he gives each of my other body guards is so intense, they both take a step back from him. “Do not take your eyes off her.” 

“No, sir…”

“No no, I know what Taylor’s rules are and that you understand them, but I need you both to know that I fucking mean it. Do not take your eyes off of her, not for a second. Because if anything happens to her… I’m going to come for both of you. Got me? Her first, no matter what.”

Smith and Wyatt exchange uneasy glances, then nod. Luke still doesn’t look fully pacified, but now when he looks back at Jade, there’s hope in his gaze. And that’s all I need to know this is the right decision.

“We’ll take care of you,” I promise. “You’ve been so good to me for years, so anything you need, just ask, okay? Anything. I’m right here.”

“I know how good you are,” Christian offers. “And we’re always looking for people with your kind of skill in my technology department. If you’re interested, I can find a place for you under Welch.”

“Really?” 

Christian nods and Luke actually looks relieved. He turns back to me and I can almost hear the plea in his gaze. 

“Are you absolutely sure about this, Ana?” 

“Absolutely,” I tell him. “You’re my family, and I want what’s best for you. Just don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“Ditto.” He pulls me into a strong hug and thanks me over and over again while he holds me. Then he pushes me away with a last, affectionate look, reaches for his girl, and the two of them leave together.

Next Chapter

---

Google Alert: Christian Grey

The Seattle Times, August 23rd 2012. Seven Officers Arrested on Charges of Conspiracy […], Seattle billionaire Christian Grey, the target of the conspiracy, has already poured over a million dollars into the city’s prosecuting attorney’s office.

---

Google Alert: Christian Grey

Forbes Magazine, August 23rd 2012. Christian and Anastasia Grey: American Royalty. Christian Grey is nowhere to be seen when we arrive at his palatial mansion on Lake Washington. Instead, it’s Anastasia who runs the household, much in the way she runs her bi-coastal publishing company…

---

Google Alert: Christian Grey

Business Insider, August 23rd 2012. Bill Gates is No Longer the Richest Man in the World. The announcement of Grey Enterprises Holdings partnership with the Pentagon Thursday comes with a hefty payday for CEO Christian Grey. A $50 billion payday.

---

My phone won’t shut up while I sit at the breakfast table, so I’m forced to turn it off.  Jacqueline has been working overtime. Now we’re in the middle of a perfect media storm and the sudden onslaught of press has actually managed to completely drown out any mention of Calliope, once again proving Christian is the man behind the curtain in almost every situation.

Congratulatory bouquets, cards, and assorted baskets of treats have been arriving since dawn from the people who turned on Christian while he was down, and now are desperately trying to get back on his good side. Kate left me an angry voicemail over us letting the Seattle Times break the police conspiracy story instead of Kavanagh Media, and, in response to the article from Business Insider, Elliot has been blowing up both our phones asking for exorbitant amounts of money to fund an impressively ridiculous string of business ideas he’s been coming up with all morning.

I ignore all of it. I’m too engrossed in watching Christian cutting up blueberry pancakes and feeding our daughter each syrupy bite. I still feel like I haven’t fully recovered from my sleepless night in New York, which is probably because I spent another sleepless night last night going three rounds with the incredibly sexy man now sitting across the table from me. I bite down on my lip, thinking it’s a shame he has to wear clothes at the breakfast table.

“You better watch those eyes you’re giving me, Anastasia,” he says, somehow catching me in the middle of checking him out, even though he’s entirely wrapped up in our daughter. He stabs another small piece of pancake and gives me a pointed look as he guides the fork to her mouth. “I have the self-control of a man, not a saint.”

 “Mmm!” Calliope squeaks, holding her fists in the air excitedly as she chews. Christian looks back at her and laughs, then drags the silicone edge of the fork he’s holding across her bottom lip to clean away a drip of maple syrup. I watch them both with rapt interest over my breakfast, smiling like an idiot.

“Do you like pancakes?” Christian asks, still grinning.

“Mo’, Daddy.”

“More?” He spears another bite and swirls it around as he brings it to her mouth. She laughs, then clamps her mouth down on the fork like a turtle. I giggle this time, and the sound once again catches Christian’s attention.

“Mmm, that’s lovely. Much more of that, please.”

I beam back at him. “Giggling, or adoring you?”

“Why make me choose?”

I let out another laugh, then turn to my right as Gail approaches with a vanilla latte she made with our brand new, very fancy espresso machine. There’s a leaf drawn on the top in foamy milk.

“I’m not quite perfect at it yet,” she tells me as she sets the full mug on the table in front of me, though her excitement and pride color every word of the sentiment. I turn to her, hoping how impressed I am with her handiwork is there in my smile. 

“Are you kidding me? It’s gorgeous!” I look at Christian. “We’re not paying her enough.”

Christian laughs before turning his attention back to the insistent cries of our baby. She has her hands reached out towards the half-eaten omelette on his plate.

“You want my breakfast?” he asks, skeptically. Even I wrinkle my nose. She strains her hands further, so he cuts a bit off the corner of the folded eggs and holds it out for her. She takes the bite eagerly, but only chews it a few times before she spits it back out on her tray.

Gail gasps from the kitchen and places a hand over her chest.

“You see,” Christian says sternly to Calliope, nodding to our housekeeper. “Now you’ve offended your cook.”

“It’s not Gail’s fault your breakfast is gross,” I interject, looking down at the monstrosity resting on his plate. “Who whisks whey protein into their eggs?”

“Someone who is going to get some serious gains when they work out with their trainer later.”

I lean closer to him, resting my elbows on the table. “But, for God’s sake, at what cost?”

He smiles, a genuine, breathtaking smile that makes my head swoon and leans the rest of the way in. His lips are a mere breath away from mine when we’re interrupted by one of my new security guards.

“Mrs. Grey?”

I sigh and turn to him. “Uh… Smith, right?”

“Wyatt.” He gives me a patient smile, then holds out a cell phone to me. “Your assistant is asking for you.”

My eyes shift down to the mirror black screen on my iPhone and I frown. So much for an uninterrupted breakfast.

I reach out for the phone Wyatt’s holding, but pause just before my fingers wrap around it. “Wait isn’t this Luke’s phone?”

“Yes, ma’am. When your assistant got your voicemail, she reached out to your head of security.”

“So, where is he?”

“In the office.” His eyes shift to Christian. “He’s working on something for  Mr. Grey, I believe.”

Oh… right. 

I take the phone and try to express an apology to Christian for the interruption. He’s not paying attention to me. Once again, he and Calliope are in their own little world together.

“Hello?”

“I’m really sorry to bother you, Ana…” Abby starts. “Since you’re not leaving the country anymore, are you coming into the office today? And, most importantly, if you’re not, could you?” 

My stomach drops. I spent all day yesterday playing with Calliope, soaking her in while I dealt with the residual emotions from the confrontation with my dad. I haven’t even glanced at The Greenwich Library’s numbers.

“Uh oh, what’s wrong?” I ask, dreading the answer.

“Nothing, we’re just… a little in over our heads here.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Uh… I don’t know if I can express it correctly over the phone. I think you need to see it yourself.”

My brow furrows, but I decide that if she thinks I need to see it to understand the worry in her voice, there’s no reason to keep her on the phone asking pointless questions. “Okay, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Thanks, boss.”

I hang up the phone and sigh as I push what’s left of my own blueberry pancakes a few inches away from me. Christian turns in my direction, frowning.

“Everything, alright?”

“I don’t know. Abby’s freaking out about something, so I’ve got to go into the office and deal with it.”

“No, you don’t. Quit. Come work for me. I’ll have an office at Grey Publishing cleared out and ready for you within the hour.”

I snicker, then come around the table to kiss him. “After all the work I’ve put into ringing you dry with my new subscription service? Not a chance in Hell, Grey.”

“It was worth a shot.” He once again turns the gorgeous smile that makes my knees weak on me in full force, then pulls my lips down to his. It’s not a quick, goodbye kiss like I’d thought it would be. He presses his lips deeply into mine and pushes his tongue into my mouth. I suck the tip of it and he groans. “Just a man, Ana… If you think you’re leaving for work, you better get the fuck out of here.”

His hands clench tightly around the armrests of his chair, and I know it’s the only warning I’m going to get.

“Have a good day,” I tell him, and he grumbles slightly as I walk away. That is until Calliope captures his attention again, which doesn’t even take as long as it takes me to leave the room. I start towards the security office to return Luke’s phone, but it rings before I get there. When I look down at the name across the screen it stops me in my tracks.

Jade.

I pick up the pace, nearly knocking Mackensie over at the bottom of the stairs as I sprint to the security office. Luke is inside, looking intently at a document open on his computer screen.

“Luke!” He turns to me, eyebrows furrowed at my urgent tone. I toss the phone to him. “It’s her!”

His eyes widen as he looks down at the screen, then harden as he reads the name. There’s a tick in his jaw that throbs like a heartbeat when he presses his finger into the button to reject the call, and shoves the phone roughly in his pocket. I’m shocked, because it’s the exact opposite of the reaction I was expecting.

“Okay… so are we in the hating her guts phase now?”

“We’re not in any phase,” he grumbles. “I’m over it.”

“Well, you’ve got me convinced.” He narrows his eyes at the sarcastic bite to my words, but I ignore him and take the seat at the workspace next to his. “Are you fighting?”

“No.”

“Did she find out about your whorish ways?”

“Why do you always assume I’m being a whore?” I’d meant it as a joke, but he actually sounds a little indignant.

“I’m sorry. I don’t really think that, Luke. I was just kidd–” And then it hits me. I don’t know if it’s the look in his eyes or some kind of best friend intuition, but suddenly, I know what’s been so different about him these past few weeks. As certainly as I know the color of the shirt he’s wearing right now. “Holy shit. You’re seeing someone!”

His face falls, his cheeks pink, and he turns to face the computer again. “I don’t want to talk about it, Ana.”

“Oh my god, you are!”

He shakes his head. “I’m not allowed to be seeing someone, remember? Serious relationships take more time than this job gives me, and romantic connections are compromising.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

“When was I in a serious relationship before?”

“You know, that one girl that you dated while I was still in school…”

“That one girl. Sounds serious.”

I glare at him. “Her name was Leah.”

“And I fucked her like three times and then I dumped her.”

I cringe at his ugly tone. It’s not like Luke to be so defensive with me, not after this much instigating. I know what I know, and the fact that he won’t admit it to me actually hurts a little. Maybe even more than a little.

“You’re kind of being an asshole, you know that?” I snap at him. He rounds on me, ready to launch into a tirade, but I jump in first. “You know every single thing about me. You know what time I wake up in the morning, you know what I eat for breakfast, what time I go to work, what meetings I have, how many times a day I talk to my husband… hell, you know when we have sex. This job means that you get a very personal look into my life. So if this thing between you and me is really a friendship, you can’t have a secret life that I don’t know about. That doesn’t put us on equal footing, and if we’re not on equal footing, then you’re just Big Brother.”

He lets out a harsh breath, then gets out of his chair and moves to close the door. Once we’re blocked off from anyone who might come up the hallway, he moves to flip a switch on the control panel to the security system. The light on the camera in the corner goes dark, and Luke’s shoulders rise and fall with the deep breath he takes. When he rounds on me, he no longer looks irritated. There’s a vulnerability spelled out across his face that I only ever get to see, when he isn’t trying to act like my CPO.

“Ana, I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Why?”

“Because you go to bed with my boss every night and I’m not trying to get fired. There are rules about this.”

“Oh.” That actually makes me pause. “Well… I won’t tell him. It’ll be our secret.” 

He leans back, sitting on the edge of the desk, and folds his arms over his chest. “Think about what you just said. You really want more secrets between you and me? How do you think your husband will feel about that?” 

“Uh…” I hesitate, because I’m not exactly sure how to respond. No matter how long I stare at him, the answer never comes. Probably because he’s right. “Fine, but you are, though,” I reply, stubbornly. “I know you are. I can read you like a book, Sawyer.”

He grins and walks towards me, bending over and resting his hands on each of the arm rests of my chair. “I don’t want to talk about it, Ana.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Ana.” I mock his words in a very childish voice as I get out of the chair, but it only makes him laugh. He flips on the camera again and follows me out of the office while I grumble about how I don’t even really want to know her anyway, and that she’s probably terrible, and that we definitely wouldn’t be best friends, and I don’t even want to be… I have enough friends so it doesn’t even bother me not being close to the people that he loves. Not even a little.

By the time we pull out of the garage and start towards GSP, he’s shaking with silent laughter.

Twenty minutes later, I pull up in front of my office expecting the worst. I spent the entire drive here thinking of every doomsday scenario that could’ve happened in the last 24 hours. The app has crashed and all our data has disappeared. The paywall isn’t working and people are downloading our entire collection for free. Christian has found some magical loophole in the contract he made me sign for my app design that means all the profits from the Greenwich Library go to GEH. That last one is ridiculous, I know, but after the whole Hailey Lewis/Phoenix debacle, I’m not taking my eye off him for a second.

Instead of being greeted by disaster though, I walk through the front doors to a round of applause. Everyone in the office is on their feet clapping, beaming at me. Jacki looks almost on the edge of tears.

“What’s going on?” I ask, so taken aback that I actually do step backwards into Luke.

“Have you seen the numbers for the library?” Abby squeals.

I feel the apprehension leave my face, leaving me completely blank. “No, we were dealing with a… uh…” I swallow to get myself to stop babbling. “Are they good?”

“Good?” Stevens barks from his desk. He picks up a folder and starts towards me, thrusting it into my hands the moment he’s close enough. I glance down and skim through the information until I see the number.

180,000.

“Holy shit.” The words escape before I can pull them back, but when I shoot guilty eyes up at my employees they all laugh jubilantly. On Monday we were praying for 50,000 subscribers. 180,000 is so far out of the realm of what I thought was possible that, looking at it now, I have to focus on the thundering beat of my heart just to make sure I’m not dreaming.

Numbers like these aren’t just survival. This means growth. This means freedom and flexibility. This means that I really do know what I’m doing after all.

“It’s been insane here since yesterday,” Stevens says. “Our inboxes have been flooded from literary agents we’ve never worked with and hundreds of self-published authors who are interested in getting their work into the premium content side of the library. New York has been calling for hours complaining that they’re getting emails they send you pinged back because your inbox is full.”

“What? Full?” I push past him and start at a quick pace for my office, hearing good natured calls for me to get to work so they can. I turn back to look at them as I open the door to my own office, just so I can roll my eyes, but Luke stops me before I step inside.

“Uh, Ana…” He gestures awkwardly to Smith.

“Oh, right. Abby, this is Collin Smith. He’s joining my security team. Can you find a place for him?”

She glances around the room of completely occupied desks, then answers me the same way people speak to their senile grandparents. “Sure thing, Ana.”

I ignore her tone and nod to them as I move into my office, bracing myself while I take the seat behind my computer. It’s just as bad as my employees said. The moment I open my email, I’m met with all kinds of error messages about the emails I can’t receive until I delete what’s already in my inbox. I start in, planning on doing nothing but reading all day, but it becomes clear very quickly that I can’t keep up with the workload and manage the branch at the same time. Since no one can email me, I’m hounded with phone calls the entire day. Every fifteen minutes, someone is knocking on my door with some fire that needs to be put out. Eventually, I have to have Penny help me work the manuscript submissions, but even with her help, my inbox is still gridlocked until the very end of the day.

 “A new email!” she cheers in triumph when she deletes a submission from Rogers and an unread email appears in its place. I return an absolutely exhausted smile that morphs into surprise when I look up and see the message sitting at the top of my inbox.

---

To: Anastasia Grey

Date: August 23rd 2012 08:24 AM

Subject: GP/GSP Writers Conference

From: Elizabeth Morgan

Attachment: GP New Author Contract Template.pdf

Hey, Ana!

I’ve been thinking about this all week and I’ve got some great new ideas to talk to you about. Have you had time to review your schedule for a standing meeting yet? Wednesdays work best for me but I’ve got some time on Tuesdays and Fridays too. Oh, and I’ve attached the contract template you requested– sorry it took me so long to get it to you. I swear I’m losing my mind sometimes.

Best,

Elizabeth Morgan

Editor-in-Chief, Grey Publishing, Inc.

---

I don’t remember the last time I moved so fast. The second the contract is open on my screen, I start to read. The table of contents guides me to the sections of the document that talk about GP’s responsibilities and what the author is agreeing to. Christian hasn’t broken a single provision, of course. Mr. Careful has certainly dotted all of his Is and crossed every single T.

I fall back in my chair, nearly defeated, until I scroll to the very last section of the document and find a termination clause buried in a big block of legal speak.

10. (a) VOLUNTARY TERMINATION. This contract may be terminated voluntarily for any reason, by either party, upon thirty (30) days prior written notice detailing causes for termination and sent via certified mail.

10. (b) Unless his or her authority is revoked pursuant to clause three (3), after termination, the author will be financially liable for the services administered by the publisher including, but not limited to: editing fees, printing costs, literary agent commissions, marketing materials, and other miscellaneous expenses detailed by the publisher. The publisher shall have sixty (60) days from the date of termination to report any financial liabilities related to a voluntary termination to the author.

I re-read the section several times, making sure there isn’t any double meaning to what’s written that might come back and bite me in the ass. On the surface, the consequences of this termination clause seem astronomical. There’s no way an author could afford to reimburse their publishing company for business costs. Especially a young, first time author like Hailey.

But for the publishing company who is desperate to sign her and who is currently experiencing a massive wave of success from their subscription service…

A smile crosses my lips and I start to calculate the possible cost of a contract termination in my head. She’s only been signed for a week and a half, so they’ve still got to be in the beginning phases of the editing process. Christian will gouge me over that, I’m sure, since editing is so difficult to bill anyway. But they won’t have sent anything to the printers, they won’t have marketing materials, and Hailey didn’t use an agent to get to Grey Publishing. I think I could get her out of this for less than ten grand, and for a release that I’m certain will create hundreds of thousands, if not a million, in revenue, that’s a risk I’m willing to take.

Quickly, I open my email and start composing a message to Abby, asking her to make me lunch reservations for Monday afternoon. Before I hit send though, my phone rings and it’s Christian’s name that greets me when I look down at the screen. It makes my stomach drop.

He’s on to me.

“Hello?” I answer, nervously.

“You’re late,” comes his easy reply. I let out a sigh of relief and look down at the clock in the bottom corner of my screen.

“I’m not late, it’s only six.”

“It’s 6:03,” he corrects me, and when I huff back he laughs. “Are you finished for today?”

I hit send on my email to Abby, then close the screen on my laptop. “Yep, just powered down my computer. I’m on my way home now.”

“Good, I love you.”

“I love you too, see you soon.” I hang up the phone and gather my things. Most of the office is empty already, except for Penny and my security team, who help me close down before we lock up and make our way down the elevators. I wave good-bye to my receptionist, thanking her again and again for the invaluable help she’s given me all day. She tells me for probably the hundredth time that she’s happy to help, then smiles as she starts down the street for the train station. I turn my attention to the car waiting for me on the curb, but it’s not Smith who is standing there waiting to open the door for me.

“So this is why you were so impatient,” I say, smiling as I step into Christian’s arms. He doesn’t respond. He pulls me into him and kisses me deeply, eliciting a few flashes from the bushes that Luke has to chase away.

“Come on,” Christian says, opening the passenger’s door to the Maybach for me. I glance in the backseat and frown.

“Where’s Calliope?”

“With Taylor and Mackensie. I thought you and I could have a date night tonight.”

I hum softly and let my eyes sparkle with love at him. “Did you?”

“Mhm. I have a surprise for you.”

“Well then, take me away, Mr. Grey. I’m your willing prisoner.”

“Don’t give me any ideas, now.” His eyes crinkle with mirth at the corners, and I lean up and steal a quick kiss before ducking into the front seat of the car. He appears next to me seconds later, then pulls out into traffic, taking my hand over the center console as he expertly weaves in and out of the lanes packed too tightly with cars.

“How was your day?” I ask.

“Productive. I wrapped up negotiations and signed a $65 billion deal with China today.”

I actually choke over my own breath. “Billion?”

“Dollars.” He grins, then turns to look at me. “Do you want an island? I’m thinking about buying an island.” I stutter for a few moments, having difficulty summoning words while my brain tries to rationalize sixty-five billion dollars. The look of amusement on his face never falters. “How was your day?”

It takes me a minute to shake away my shock before I can answer him. “Good. Very good, actually.”

“You got your numbers back from the Greenwich Library?”

“Mhm.”

“And?”

“I’m not telling you that. You’re the competition, and you’ve made it very clear that it’s war between us.”

“War between Grey Publishing and Greenwich Small Press,” he corrects me. “Never between us.”

“Semantics.” I brush his remarks away with a casual wave of my hand, but he just once again grabs ahold of it and brings each of my fingers to his lips. 

“It’s not semantics, it’s important to me. Never between us.” He kisses each of my fingers again. “Will you at least tell me if I should be worried?”

“Only if you plan on keeping your publishing company.” This time, I turn and give him a look that is exactly as smug and satisfied as I feel. He doesn’t falter one bit.

“And I do. Remember who you’re dealing with, Anastasia.”

“You don’t scare me.”

“I should. This is my game, baby. I write the rules, and I enforce them.”

“We’ll see.” I turn away, looking out the window. His hand tightens around mine in a gesture of warm affection and I smile to myself. There’s a part of me that loves stepping into this ring with Christian, and I think he feels the same. But the only way we can fight each other in business is to never let it seep into the deep bond we share with one another. And he doesn’t. Not even when he’s losing.

  It’s strange that he turns for the freeway and takes it south, rather than to any of the restaurants in the city. My confusion only deepens when he hits the turn signal, and we pull through the gate at Boeing airfield. His jet is there, waiting for us.

“What exactly does this date night entail?” I ask.

He grins. “We’re just going up. Come on. I’ll show you around.”

I give him a confused look as I step out of the car and look up at the familiar jet. Except, as my eyes start picking out small details, it isn’t familiar at all. The wings and the tail are the wrong color, electric blue instead of deep gray. So is the giant GREY painted on the side of the fuselage.

“Wait, what is this? Did you buy a new plane?”

“Not exactly. It’s the flagship of the new Endurance fleet I’m building with Boeing. We have contracts with every major airline, but I wanted the very first one to be yours.”

My eyes widen at the word, and I peel my eyes away from the plan to gawk at him. “Mine?”

He shrugs. “You travel as much as I do anymore. This way I can control when, where, and who you’re flying with, and Ros can stop bitching at me for the plane never being available.”

“But… but…”

“Come on.” He takes my hands and looks at me adoringly as he pulls me towards the stairs. “You’re going to love it.”

From the outside, the plane looks almost identical to Christian’s. On the inside, the differences are immediately apparent. Christian’s jet has enough seating for our entire family and security team. As I look around at the small cluster of chairs around the table, one long sofa, and a few regular seats, I find myself counting bodyguards to determine whether or not they can all be accommodated.

“I know it looks small, but it isn’t,” Christian says, once again answering my thoughts instead of my words like he’s some kind of wizard. “We’ve made a few editions to make travel easier for you.”

Leading me to the back, I start to notice what he means. Christian’s plane, with its ample seating, has one bedroom at the back. Mine, has two. A small room that’s already been transformed into a nursery for Calliope and a larger room for Christian and I. They’re connected by a small hallway that is lined with cots that fold down.

“For your security team,” he tells me, lifting a cot back up into it’s holding place on the wall. There’s a bathroom back here that’s much larger than the closet-sized one on Christian’s jet, and an actual closet in the master bedroom. “Well, what do you think?”

I blink at him. “You bought me a plane.”

“No, I built you a plane, and you haven’t seen the half of what makes it so special.” He leads the way back to the main cabin, which has been closed up as if we’re preparing for take off. Natalia is standing over the table near the front, laying out dishes and place settings.

“We’re having dinner here?”

Christian nods. “I want you to feel it, so I’m taking you to Portland and back. It’ll take a couple hours. I thought we’d share a candlelight dinner.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Good.” He turns to Natalia. “Let Stephan know we’re ready to take off.”

“Yes, Mr. Grey.” Natalia places the last fork on the table and scurries up the aisle toward the cockpit. Once we’re alone, Christian sweeps me into his arms and kisses me like he’s been waiting for it for ten years. We fall back on the sofa, letting our hands roam the other’s body like we need to get reacquainted. It’s a ridiculous concept, because every inch of muscle my fingertips trace is bone-achingly familiar. There is a small degree of exhaustion, and not just from my busy day, that lingers persistently in the back of my mind. It’s very easy to ignore though when he groans into my mouth and grinds his erection against my thigh. We probably would have started stripping right then and there if I didn’t suddenly start sliding down the couch.

“What the—” I grip the cream leather that covers the sofa and glance in a panic out the window. We’re already off the ground, and I didn’t notice. The plane is completely silent, and as I stare around in confusion at what the hell is going on, Christian gives me a cocky grin.

“No combustion, remember? Without the chemical reactions and burning of fossil fuels, the engines are only as loud as wind hitting the propeller blades. We built the fuselage with insulated, reinforced steel to keep it as silent as possible.”

I stare out the window, watching the propellers inside the engines spinning in a blur on the wings. Marveling at how silent they are, like we’re in a car driving 35 miles an hour down an empty road with all the windows up.

“It’s almost unsettling,” I tell him.

“But think of how much better we’ll sleep on the way to our new private island. Did you prefer the Indian ocean, or French Polynesia?” I roll my eyes and turn away from him, but he captures my wrist and pulls me back into his lap, kissing me deeply the moment I’m engulfed in his arms. We stay that way until we reach cruising altitude and Natalia returns with covered dishes in her hands and lays them on the table.

“Can I get you anything else, Mr. Grey?” she asks. Christian shakes his head and dismisses her, before pulling out a chair for me and settling down himself on the other side of the table. I lift the cover from my plate and find a pasta tossed with clams. Mmm.

“Mia’s home, by the way,” Christian says, casually throwing a clam shell into the dish resting on the table between us. “Her flight came in late this afternoon. I thought maybe we’d give her a few days to get back on local time, then we could have a family dinner at our house on Sunday? She leaves for Harvard next week.”

“Already?” I ask, genuinely baffled. He nods, eyes widening like he can’t believe it either. I agree that we need to get everyone together before she goes, especially if she’s planning on being anything like Christian. He didn’t come home for anything except major holidays when he was at school. I’ve decided I won’t be able to wait until November for the Yale game anyway, so we start making plans to visit Mia in October, after Carrick’s birthday. The entire time we’re talking, he keeps my flute of champagne full.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” I hiccup. He smiles and shakes his head.

“No, I’m trying to christen this damn plane.”

“I think you’re supposed to do that before take off,” I tell him, picking up my glass. “And I think you’re supposed to break the champagne on the ship, not force feed it to your wife.”

“That would be true if that’s what I meant.” He leans into me, his eyes brimming with a dark, lustful promise. “And that is most certainly not what I fucking meant.”

My mouth goes dry, and I’m instantly craving him. The taste of his lips, of his skin, of his cock… it’s all so much more appealing to me than the food on my plate. I push away from the table and crawl into his lap. He accepts me with open arms, then pulls my lips down to his.

I’m naked in under a minute, and grinding on him while he’s still fully dressed in an expensive and immaculately cut suit does things to me that make rational thought very difficult. It’s an unequal feeling of power, reminding me that I’m submissive to his desires and his wants. That reminder is the only thing that keeps me from dragging him out of his chair and into the bedroom.

“Please,” I beg against his lips, the lone word trembling with my need for him. He groans and utters a filthy obscenity under his breath, then lifts me in his arms and starts toward the bedroom. I’m slammed against a wall before we make it there and once again assaulted by his lips. I can feel the bruising starting, but that only makes me more ravenous for his kiss. The harder he grabs me, the more brutal his lips are against mine, the more intense my need for him burns. By the time he tosses me onto our new bed, I can’t even force myself to lie there and wait for him. I bounce back up and immediately start climbing him again, disrupting his attempts to unravel his tie. My unexpected weight throws him off balance slightly, and he topples over onto the bed, pinning me beneath him. I grind my clit against the fly of his slacks.

“Fuck me, Christian. Please, fuck me.”

“Fuck you?” He reaches for my wrists and pins them over my head, then leans down and gently nuzzles each of my breasts. It sends a torturous wave of tingles through me that resound painfully at the junction of my legs. “I brought you up here to make love.”

I pant and arch my breasts up more insistently against his face, silently begging for his tongue. He doesn’t comply.

“All day I’ve been thinking about laying you over this bed and treating you like the goddess you are. There wasn’t an inch of your gorgeous body that I wasn’t going to touch. Kiss. Worship. I was going to take you slow and deep and tell you over and over again just how much I fucking love you.”

I whimper and lick my lips.

“But if you’d rather be fucked…” I hadn’t noticed him pulling out his cock until he thrusts it inside of me. Hard. Without any pretense of gentility or even concern. If I hadn’t been as absolutely soaked as I am right now, he would have ripped right through me. As it is, he bottoms out with hardly any resistance and I let out a pleasure-laced scream that echoes throughout the room around us. He fills me over and over again in exactly the way I need him to, each hammering thrust chipping away my composure until I’m sweating, shaking, and panting beneath him. As every one of my muscles tenses in anticipation of release, I start to tremble. He looks deep into my eyes, reveling in my dizziness. He’s got me exactly where he wants me and I can see the satisfaction burning behind the pleasure so obviously displayed on his face. So when I finally come apart, I scream his name as loudly as I can to intensify all of it.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls into my ear while my orgasm pulses around his cock again and again. “So fucking tight. So fucking good.” His hands tighten on me, digging into my skin so roughly I know I’ll be left with bruises. Fuck, I hope I’m left with bruises.  

As my orgasm subsides, he kisses me and the way his tongue moves in my mouth is almost enough to make me come again. His pace slows and with every push and pull he stretches his torso over mine, brushing the beautifully sculpted muscles on his chest across my hardened nipples.

“Oh, fuck,” I breathe. My entire body shivers. He lets out a single, sexy laugh and softly nuzzles my neck.

“Have you had enough?”

“No.”

“Good.” The hand around my wrists vanishes and lands on my hip. With a harsh tug, he tosses me across the bed so I land on my stomach, then yanks my hips into the air. I expect another ruthless onslaught from his cock, but it’s his tongue I feel next. He licks me over and over again, starting at my clit, then dipping inside of me. I push back on his face, moving against his tongue in exactly the way I need it. Any second, I expect some form of castigation, but it doesn’t come. He lets me ride his face right until…

“That’s enough.”

Fuck. “No, Christian….” The words come out so needy, I don’t even sound like myself. The cold air that breezes over my wetness in his absence feels cruel when the heat had been so, so close…

He grabs two handfuls of my ass and spreads me open, watching me clench in desperation for him until all promise of an orgasm has subsided. Then he pushes his thumb deep inside of me, moving it in and out, keeping me right on the edge. It’s a challenge, because I’m not allowed to come for his fingers. So I moan and push into the mattress beneath me, but I refuse to let the pleasure overwhelm me. After a minute, he pulls out, drags his thumb through my dripping lips, and starts to circle the entrance of my ass.

“So wet for me,” he whispers, dipping into me and dragging his finger up again. His thumb pushes through my tightly pleated muscles at the same time his cock slides through my lower lips. I buck against the intrusion, but his free hand comes down on my hips and holds me in place.

“Slow this time,” he says, pulling back all the way to his tip and then inching back into me. His thumb moves in unison with his cock for a few seconds, until it’s gone and replaced with two fingers. They work together, building me to an impossible high. As the third starts to tickle my entrance, I realize he’s not playing with me. He’s preparing me. The stretch comes just as his cock pushes right against the place I need it most, and I lose whatever shred of control I was holding on to.

He continues his slow, measured cadence while I call out more and more garbled versions of his name. The waves of pleasure that radiate from each and every deep thrust go on and on until I find myself clawing at the blankets, trying to crawl away from them. He doesn’t let me. He holds me in place and fucks me until I’m limp. My head is swimming with euphoria, so I hardly notice him move me onto my side or pull my leg all the way up to my chest. I do notice though when the wide crown of his cock presses against my ass.

“Relax,” he says, wrapping a gentle, loving arm around me. I do, and, slowly, he pushes into me. I gasp, then whimper. He starts to suck the tip of my earlobe. “Real slow, baby.”

“Okay.” I swallow the pitiful sounds clawing their way up my throat and focus on breathing. Each breath in, pulls him in deeper. Each breath out makes it more bearable. One hand reaches up to run soft circles around my sensitive nipples, while his mouth leaves a trail of sweet kisses up the curve of my throat. With a small grunt, I take what’s left of him and he lets out a satisfied moan.

“Fuck, you feel incredible.”

I reach my chin over my shoulder and meet his lips. Once again, he kisses me like it would kill him to stop. Our lips seem to melt together, and our tongues move in a choreographed dance that’s taken years to master. He groans as he starts to move again. I tighten at first, but accept him absolutely once he reaches around and starts massaging my clit.

“I love you,” he whispers in my ear, pacing his thrusts with the intonation of his words. “So much. Every day, I fall in love with you all over again.”

I feel an urgent heat start to flame between my legs, and I reach down to Christian’s forearm, his initials on my finger pressing down into my name scrawled across his skin.

“Oh, god… I’m close.”

“Good. I want you to feel how much you turn me on.” He thrusts into me, harder than he was before, and I let out a tortured cry that merely feeds his hunger. “How hard I am for you. How much I want you. How much I fucking need you.”

“Yes! Yes! Oh, god, yes!”

“You’re mine, Anastasia. You’re fucking mine, and there’s not a goddamn thing in the universe that means more to me than that.”  

“YOURS!” I come like a spectacular show of fireworks. My body shakes, my mind is reeling. The extent of the pleasure rippling through me feels impossible in its magnitude, and yet it scorches through me until I can feel fire. Somewhere on the edge of my periphery, I hear the increasing urgency behind Christian’s grunts, but he’s lost in the stars dancing before my eyes until he leans in and announces very clearly that he’s coming inside of me. After that, a second wave comes crashing over me and it drowns all of my senses until Christian collapses on the bed next to me and the fasten seatbelt light over the door blinks on.

Somehow, we’re already home.

“Next time,” he says, still breathing heavily as he turns to look at me. “We’ll fly to LA.”

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