The city feels different this time. The heat is stifling after leaving the beautiful seventy-five degree Seattle weather, but it’s not enough to dampen my spirits. A lifetime ago, New York had been a dream. For years I’d lost myself in fantasies of sitting at a counter in a busy coffee shop, absorbing the hustle and bustle that happened all around me while I churned out the next great american novel. Then Christian had brought me here and shattered my heart. Every trip since then has been a string of disasters, each more terrible than the last.

But this time… it’s different.

We’re staying in the penthouse suite of the Ritz-Carlton hotel. We’ve dined in some of the best restaurants I’ve ever been to. Our first night here, Christian took my hand and led me into Central Park. We’d walked along the beautifully manicured paths through the twilight, soaking each other in as he listened to me unload all the trepidation I feel over the Greenwich Library launch. None of the doubt I felt ever crept into the encouraging words he offered in return. After feeling the immense amount of comfort that reassurance gave me, I couldn’t drag him back to our bed fast enough.

The morning of my launch, though, all of that anxiety comes crashing back. Abby showed up at my hotel room first thing this morning to help me prepare. Now she’s sitting cross-legged on the floor of the sitting room, helping me confirm guest lists, vendors and entertainment, transportation, and accommodations for our big name talent. By ten, my fingers are sore from the number of emails I’ve had to type out on my phone.

It’s lunch time when Christian comes back from his workout in the hotel gym, and he finds me shaking with nerves while I pace back and forth across the floor.

“Stop,” he tells me, letting the door slam behind him as he rushes across the room to take me in his arms.

“I can’t. We haven’t been able to get ahold of Meghan Michaels all morning, what if she doesn’t show up?”

“She will.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“Then fuck her.”

“The catering company called and asked for a half-hour extension, but I told them I couldn’t give that to them. What if I accidentally give everyone food poisoning?”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re being ridiculous now.”

“What if no one subscribes, Christian?”

“That’s not going to happen, baby. Tonight will be perfect. Meghan Michaels will show up and post a million and a half pictures online, no one is going to get sick, and you will still be the most beautiful woman in the world.”

I smile, but let out an exasperated sigh. “That last one isn’t going to help with anything.”

“I disagree.” He leans down, kisses me, then pulls me back towards the door.

“What are you doing?” I ask in a panic when the light from the hallway suddenly comes pouring into my sitting room.

“You need to get out of the hotel for a while, clear your mind. Let’s go see the city a little.”

“But—“

My protest is cut off by another kiss, and it lasts until he’s pushed me into the elevator and the doors have slid closed behind him.

He doesn’t lead me anywhere in particular. Mostly, we let street-food vendors, performers, and traffic lights lead us through the streets. Once we try to call my dad, who has Calliope while we’re out of town, but Kim tells us he’s got her out on the boat with a fishing pole and she doesn’t expect they’ll be back for a few hours. Christian was irritated when he hung up because he thought getting to talk to our daughter would pacify the last of my nerves, but this is better. Thinking of her sitting with my dad, probably holding the same pink fishing pole I did when I was little, brings a warm sense of comfort that doesn’t extinguish my stress, but is simply more important. I duck under Christian’s arm and hold myself against his side until he suddenly comes to a dead stop.

“We should go this way,” he says, nodding in the opposite direction. I look up at him, confused.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just don’t go down this street.”

My eyes move up, following the towering buildings until I see exactly why Christian wants to change course. We’re standing in the shadow of the Empire State Building.

Looking at the Art Deco skyscraper, I can suddenly recall my memories from the last time I was here with such vivid clarity, I almost drop his hand. Part of me wonders if he can sense that, because the moment the thought passes through my mind, his fingers tighten around mine.

I hate it. I hate that part of him, no matter how small, will always be waiting for me to leave and it’s because of this building. I hate that he still has nightmares about this place and that I’m the reason for them. I hate that I wasn’t strong enough then to bear what this place represents…

But I am now.

“Come on,” I tell him, tugging against the hand that feels like a vice grip. He doesn’t budge. Instead, his eyes move down to me with alarm.

“No. I don’t go down this street, Anastasia.” His voice is final, leaving no room for negotiation. Which is fine with me, because I also don’t intend on negotiating.

“Fine.” With a hard yank that he doesn’t expect, I slip my hand from his and start across down the sidewalk toward the silver revolving doors. He calls out for me, but I don’t stop. His heavy footfalls sound behind me a second later as he runs to catch up.

“Anastasia, watching you walk away from me down this street is not helping,” he growls, wrapping a hand around my elbow. I don’t let him stop me. I reach out for the bar that stretches across the glass and metal door in front of me, and pull it back.

“Does this help?”

As if he had to walk through a curtain of fire to do it, he comes through the door after me. This time, I don’t get the choice to continue or not.

“Stop.” His hands are firm on me, holding me in place. “I’m not doing this. I don’t want to do this. I want nothing to do with this fucking building.”

“Well that’s a shame. I want to see the view.”

“Why are you doing this?” he whispers, pain finally breaking through the angry determination coloring his face. I give him a small, but reassuring smile, then turn for the elevators. Begrudgingly, he follows after me.

There’s a line to go up to the observation deck, but a few hundred dollar bills in the attendant’s white-gloved hand gets us into an elevator car by ourselves. I can hear Christian grinding his teeth as we feel the jolt of the elevator lift us into the air. So, I do what he does best. I grab hold of the front of his t-shirt, push him back into the wall, the way he’s done to me hundreds of times, and begin to devour his lips.

He doesn’t respond immediately. He kisses me back, but his body is rigid. I reach down to his forearm, gripping tightly to my name, and absolutely ravage him. By the 50th floor, he gives into my passion and suddenly I’m the one pinned beneath him. The weight of what he’s carrying falls on top of me. I can feel it in his lips. I can feel it in the desperate grip of his hands. When the car slows, and the ding announcing our arrival at the 86th floor, I watch him flinch.

He steps out of the elevator willingly, but after that, he doesn’t move. It takes every tool in my arsenal to coax him out onto the observation deck, and when I do, I hold my arms open and look around the crowded viewing area.

“See,” I tell him. “No ghosts.”

He stares at me for a long minute, unable to arrange the emotions roiling through him into coherent thoughts or words. Eventually, he gives up trying and moves to me. His strong arms wrap around my body and he pushes me toward the concrete barrier that gives us a sweeping view of the city. I press back into him, tracing my fingers absentmindedly over his skin as we take everything in.

“I’m never going to leave you, Christian,” I tell him, softly. “I couldn’t, even if I should. Walking away from you would kill me. No matter what, remember?”

He’s quiet for a beat, then exhales with relief. “Say it again.”

“I’ll never leave you. No matter what. This is forever. You didn’t walk away when I was so broken there weren’t enough pieces left of me to make you stay. You didn’t give up on me when I was trying to give up on you. The war is over, Christian, and you’re the only one left to sit on the throne. You want me to be a queen? I am your queen, and I’m going to stand by your side while you rule this world until the day I die. No. Matter. What.” I glance around once more, making a show of it. “This. This is just a building. Part of a past that doesn’t matter anymore.”

He nods and tightens his hold on me. I hum slightly as I feel his lips press into my cheek. We linger for a few more minutes, and when we finally turn back to the elevator, Christian no longer clings to me for dear life. He doesn’t hurry for the elevator and he isn’t irritated with me as we make the descent back to the city streets. He merely pulls me against him and tells me how much I mean to him until the elevator doors slide open, and we step back into New York.

**** 

There’s a very stark difference between the events we normally attend for GEH, and the party I’ve put together for GSP. Normally on nights like these, I’m obsessing over my hair or the way I’ll look in the designer gown Christian had custom ordered. Tonight, my hair hangs down straight over my shoulders, I’m dressed in a nice but casual sheath dress, and I’m so strung out with stress I can’t stop stalking back and forth across the bedroom of our suite.

“Well?” Christian asks. He steps out of the bathroom and saunters towards me, holding his hands out to his side, and then spinning around so I can get the whole view of his look. He’s wearing a pair of navy slacks and a white collared shirt that’s unbuttoned further than is normal for him. His sleeves are rolled all the way up to his elbows so his tattoo is on full display. He really is a knockout.

“You look great,” I tell him.

“Great?” He wrinkles his brow with distaste and closes the space between us. “You’re supposed to tell me that I’m the most heart-stoppingly handsome man who has ever walked the face of the earth and then present me a gift as a token of your affection.”

“I am?”

“Why do you think you leave for every one of my events dripping in diamonds, Anastasia?” He lets out a playfully exasperated sigh that makes me giggle.

“Well, you are, in fact, the most heart-stoppingly handsome man who has ever walked the face of the earth, Mr. Grey. And I actually did get you a gift… it’s just not meant for you to wear.”

“Oh?” His eyes shift down to my breasts, intrigued.

“Mhm. But you don’t get to unwrap it until we get home. You’re just going to have to be patient until then.”

He growls and pulls me until I crash into the wall, his body immediately overtaking mine and pinning me in place. “Patience isn’t really my thing, baby.”

I bite my lip and look directly into his smoldering gray eyes. “I know. That’s what’s going to make finally coming back here so much fun.”

With a want-fueled groan, his lips lower to mine. I’m ravaged by his tongue while his hands fist into the fabric of my dress, a vague threat that he could, if he wanted to, just rip it away.

“Let me see it,” he whispers into my mouth. “Give me something to fantasize about all night.”

“Trust me, the second you see it, you’re not going to care about anything else but fucking me. Since I have somewhere to be, you’re just going to have to use your imagination.”

“Must I?” His lips find mine again and his hands move down from my waist to my hips. I can feel his fingers digging into my dress and pulling it up. The loose hem of my skirt skims softly over my skin as it rises up over my thighs. His tongue is half way down my throat, his hands move to my now exposed ass, and his rock hard erection presses into my hip, which is of course the exact moment Abby bursts into my suite.

“Ana, we’re rea—oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She nearly trips over her shoes as she stumbles backwards out of the room, but the distraction is enough for me to slip out of Christian’s grip.

“You heard her,” I tell him. “We’re going to be late.”

The lustful glint in his eye shines back at me, telling me he’s not ready to go fucking anywhere. “I’m hard.”

“Well, try thinking about sports. Not the Seahawks, obviously, since that’ll just make it worse…” I smile at him, chuckling slightly at my own joke. “But, like… the Rams or something.” 

He isn’t impressed. Instead, he takes a step toward me and leans down to speak softly in my ear.

“We can go, but if I’m still hard by the time we get in the car, I’m going to have no choice but to lay you over my lap and spank you until you’re as uncomfortable as I am.”

I shiver, then close my eyes and take a deep breath of him. “Or I could just blow you in the back seat…”

He moans, then takes my hand and starts barreling towards the hotel door. Abby has to hurry to keep pace with us as Christian pulls me through the hallway to the elevator. Every update she has for me is better news than I had hoped for, so by the time Christian has me in the back seat of our chauffeured town car, I’m the one who pounces on him.

“Open your pants,” I plead against his lips, reaching over to close the privacy glass between us and the driver. His hands move down to his fly, then tangle in my hair to pull me down to his waiting cock. I don’t ease into it. With a long, satisfied moan, I take him into my mouth and sink down until my face is pressed so hard into him that I can’t breathe.

“Fuck yes, Ana,” he hisses back. His head drops back and his hands fall limply to his side. He doesn’t thrust into my throat, he doesn’t grab ahold of me to try and control my pace. He just lets me pleasure him, and the rare bit of control he’s seceded drives me wild. Every moan, every gasp, every sudden grunt of pleasure is mine. My tongue traces every inch of him, and he hums out how good it feels. My lips pull tightly every time I rise and fall, and it makes the muscles in his legs tense again and again. Every time I suck him into my throat, I purposefully swallow as hard as I can, and it makes him shudder. I even force myself to gag on him a few times, just so he can feel it.

“I’m going to come,” he warns me, so I start sucking harder and keep him deep in my throat. It takes seconds for him to finish after that and the guttural way he shouts my name as he explodes has me high on power. When I finally pull away and see him flushed and panting, I feel a rush wash through me that has me flying.

I’m starting to see why the dominance appeals to him so much.

“I love you,” he says through the harsh, broken breaths he’s still forcing out. With a smile, I lean in and softly press my lips against his. We’re starting up the block towards my party now, I can see the flashes of the cameras waiting for us at the entrance. So I lean back and give him a sheepish look.

“Am I a mess?”

“Just your lipstick. Here…” He reaches up and, with his thumb, brushes away the peach residue that’s smeared around my mouth. I reach into my clutch, cursing myself for not bringing a mirror, and pull out the gold tube to re-apply my makeup. He watches me try to carefully drag the crayon over my lips, but when I hesitate over my cupid’s bow, he laughs, takes the lipstick from me, and colors the rest in himself.

“How do I look?” I ask, rubbing my lips together and leaning back.

He smiles. “Like a fucking dream.”

I hum with affection and grab onto his hand as the car comes to a stop. But when the door opens, he doesn’t let me pull him out with me.

“Take a couple seconds for yourself,” he says instead. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Giving his hand three, quick, I love you squeezes, I step out onto the street by myself. Cameras flash a few times while I move toward the entrance of the venue, and I’m shocked by how many of them are here. This is just a small party, not much different from the one I’d attended with Christian back in June for The Black Rose. I suppose Meghan Michaels attendance was bound to draw the interest of the paparazzi, but when the car door opens behind me and I’m suddenly engulfed in an explosion of light, the photographer’s presence suddenly becomes very clear. Christian’s name flies over my shoulder and I turn to look at him. He doesn’t stop to soak in any of the attention the way he would at a GEH event. Instead, with his head down, he walks to stand behind me, and wraps his arms around my waist. Only then does he look up at the cameras.

I lean back into him and let the bliss I feel being pressed against his chest shine through in my face. He kisses my cheek and I bask in the affection. When I turn and press my lips against his, he holds me tight against him and gives me the most passionate kiss he can, knowing the pictures will be public in just a few short hours. I turn and smile while he keeps adoring eyes focused on me, then I take him by the hand and lead him inside.

He doesn’t even blink over it.

I’d been worried the venue we’d picked for tonight’s party was too large, we only expected around 100 people. Stepping through the front doors, I realize we didn’t choose a space large enough. The place is packed, and the moment we come through the door, every pair of eyes in the room seems to find us.

“Mr. Grey,” a man standing a few feet away from us says, moving forward with his hand outstretched. “My name is Aaron Michelson, I work with JetBlue Airways. If you have a moment to talk about Endurance…”

“I don’t,” Christian interjects. “I’m only here to support my brilliant wife. Excuse us.” He pushes me away from the man opening and closing his mouth like a sea bass behind us, and ignores several other cries for his attention until we spot Carmen near the bar. She’s surrounded by a small crowd of people herself. As we approach, I can hear the heaps of praise they lay on her for her ingenious idea.

“The industry has changed,” she says, profoundly. “I knew we needed to find a way to compete with self-publishing, this seemed like the most reliable way to do that.”

“You’re just full of great ideas, aren’t you?” Christian says, bitterly. Carmen jumps and turns to face us, but her eyes don’t even pass over me. She sees Christian and starts to glare.

“Grey.”

“It’s not a great sign of leadership if you can’t even give the people underneath you credit when it’s due.”

“Yeah? How much credit do you give Welch when you’re talking about Endurance?”

“Plenty. I couldn’t have done it without him.”

Carmen rolls her eyes, then steps away from the interested looks of the people standing around her and pulls Christian to the side. “That was a real dirty play you made on Gutierrez.”

He laughs. “I heard what you said to Gutierrez about GEH to get that deal, Gallagher. You don’t want to have to contend with my wrath? Come correct next time.”

“That deal was the crux of my entire 2013 pipeline, Grey. Everything I have is dependent on that contract.”

“So?”

“So… what do you want for it?”

The grin plastered on his face widens. “You know what I want, Carmen.”

“Yeah, well now.” She grimaces, but Christian shakes his head.

“My reasons haven’t changed.”

“Well, there’s no way in hell. Not now. Not after this.”

“What if I throw in Barney?”

Mostly, I’d been ignoring their conversation, choosing instead to scan the room to make sure my high profile guests haven’t arrived without me knowing. Barney’s name catches my attention as effectively as if it had been my own.

“Barney?” Carmen repeats, though her tone is no longer hard and accusing. She’s interested.

“He’s trained under Welch, he designed your app… I’ll back out of the deal with Gutierrez, tell him I can’t manage it with Endurance, and I’ll give you Barney.”

“And my licensing?” 

He shrugs. “Someone might have made a mistake. Who’s to say?”

“I’ll think about it,” she says after a long pause. “I’ll be in touch with your office to set up a meeting.”

“My assistant will be waiting with baited breath.”

She glares at him again, clearly not appreciating the slightly condescending lilt to his voice, then finally turns to look at me. “Congratulations, Anastasia. Your launch party is a hit. Excuse me.”

She starts to walk away, but just before she makes it out of earshot, Christian calls her back. 

“What?” Her eyes are sharp. Christian looks back at her as though he’s made of steel. 

“I’m warning you, Gallagher. You make me wait for it, I’m going to come take it. And if I have to come take it, I’m going to take a hell of a lot more than I’m asking for right now.” 

“Is that a threat?” 

“Do I look like the kind of man who makes threats?” 

She sucks in a sharp breath of air that makes her shoulders fan out, then she spins on her heels and marches away. My eyes follow her as she moves into the crowd and I’m just about to round on Christian and demand to know what the fuck just happened, but instead, I spot Abby by the door. She waves over to me in a panic and I think I see her mouth that Meghan Michaels is here.

“Hold on, Christian,” I say, distracted. My hand falls from his as I move towards my assistant, but when I look back, he hasn’t followed me. He seems to have melded in perfectly with the group of people Carmen left behind.

The cameras are flashing just as wildly as they did for Christian when I step outside, though this time, they’re pointed at a buxom blonde who looks gleeful as she poses for each shot. She’s an influencer from Los Angeles who decided to write a book about how to become internet famous. It’s not exactly the most intellectual read, but the girl has 18 million PixC followers and I was in no position to turn down that kind of exposure. The way the photographers catcall at her as she turns for the booty shot, makes me think that I’m right.

“Anastasia!” she calls, waving me over. I move to her side and pose with her, ignoring any questions thrown at me and instead letting her take up all the attention. She’s the one I’m here to sell, and if I had my way, she’d stay in front of these cameras all night.

Unfortunately, she loses interest in the attention all too soon and moves inside to seek the spotlight from someone else. I’m stuck though, as my second big name, Naveed Bijan, steps out of the next car to pull up. He’s a comedian who has an impressive following and great wit for writing. I lucked out over him being just obscure enough that his manuscript didn’t catch the attention of the big players in the industry. I let him stand with just his group of friends for a while, then take a few pictures at his side. Once he’s ready to bail, I follow him in.

“If you see a camera, get in front of it,” I tell him before releasing him for the bar. It wasn’t advice I had to give to Meghan. I can see her sitting in the VIP section taking enough selfies that it seems foolish for the press to have come at all. I just have to hope that the hundreds of thousands of likes those photos will undoubtedly get will also result in a few subscriptions.

“What color is it?” Christian whispers in my ear from behind, interrupting my thoughts. He chuckles when I jump.

“What color is what?”

“Whatever the fuck you have under this dress.” I can feel his smile against my neck. “I’ve been picturing red.”

“Wrong.” I laugh, and he wraps his arms around me.

“You could let me find out. There’s a utility closet in the hallway to the bathrooms. All you’d have to do is stay very, very quiet.”

“You think so, huh?” I turn around to face him, my teeth set firmly against my bottom lip as I lean in and brush the tip of my nose against his. He eyes me hungrily, and I can see the idea cross his mind that he might just toss me over his shoulder and carry me back to said utility closet. Before he makes his decision though, we’re once again interrupted by my assistant.

“Ana, I just got the first subscription report back from Stevens. You have to look! We’re already at almost thirty-seven thousand subscribers!”

“What!” My hands can’t move fast enough for my phone, and I nearly break my clutch in two trying to wrestle it out. When it wakes though, I have more than just an email waiting for me. My screen is littered with PixC notifications, texts, missed phone calls, voicemails, and Google Alerts. It makes me panic, so instead of checking my email, I open my texting app. The one at the top is from Kate, so I read it first.

Oh my god, Ana. Go look at Kim’s PixC.

An overwhelming sense of dread takes hold of my heart as I swipe through my apps to open PixC. I don’t have to search for her name because she tagged me in the post. Sitting at the top of my feed is a picture of Calliope, frowning, next to a picture of Christian from last Thanksgiving making the exact same face. She’s captioned it, “No paternity test needed! @AnaGrey @ChristianGrey,” and she’s published it for the entire world to see.

There’s no need for me to look at the Google Alert waiting for me, but I do anyway.

---

Google Alert: Christian Grey

TMZ, August 21st 2012. Pictures of Christian Grey’s baby have finally surfaced and she looks just like her ultra-hot dad… or does she? The PixC snapshot, which was posted by a close family friend and has introduced Calliope Grey to the world, seems to imply that Anastasia Grey is questioning the paternity of her own child.

---

Next Chapter

On Saturday evening, I have my hair in rollers while I skim through the manuscripts I didn’t make it through by the end of the week. It’s difficult to concentrate, and has been ever since I left Elizabeth’s office on Thursday. My eyes and ears are trained on my inbox, waiting for the Grey Publishing contract to come through. I was worried the jig was up when I hadn’t received it by this morning, but Christian hasn’t mentioned anything to me all day. And I know if he found out what I was doing, he’d definitely have something to say. Even if it was just to let me know that I’d been caught, and he was the one to do it. My fear now is that she’s just changed her mind, which would be extraordinarily frustrating after all of my hard work.

“Mr. Sawyer?” A member of the GEH security team, who Taylor is currently working on transitioning into our personal security team, steps into my office. When he finds the chair Luke’s been in all afternoon empty, his eyes dart frantically around the room.

“Smith, right?” I try, even though I know it’s pointless. He doesn’t look at me, he stands stock straight and stares ahead at nothing, like the guards at Buckingham Palace. After rolling my eyes, I nod toward the door on the wall opposite me and offer a half-hearted, “he’s in the bathroom.”

I’m not even sure he blinks back at me.

A few seconds later, Luke emerges through the bathroom door and turns a sternly curious look on Smith. “What are you doing in here?”

“Looking for you, sir. I came to ask you to let Mrs. Grey know that the chef has arrived and he’d like to go over tonight’s menu with her before his staff gets to work.”

Luke nods and turns to face me. “Mrs. Grey, the chef for tonight’s dinner is here and he’d like to speak with you.”

I glare at him, and grind my teeth at the annoying game of telephone that’s been going on all morning. “One more time, Luke. Call me Mrs. Grey one more time, and I swear to god…” I stand up in my chair and close the screen of my laptop, hoping I’ll be able to put the Greenwich Library out of my head long enough to make it through the night. Then I come around the desk and move past him, keeping my narrowed eyes trained on his. “And I heard him.”

“Yes, Mrs. Grey. Understood.”

Honest to god, my hand twitches. Tonight is an extremely important night for Christian, GEH, and Endurance, and it has my whole household in a near panic. Gail’s been banished from her own kitchen to make room for a Michelin rated chef. Every available body has been brought here to provide security. There have been delivery men coming in and out all day, and my best friend is stuck in permanent CPO mode.

And I get it.

Tonight there will be three high ranking military officials, six senators, two congressmen, and the Secretary of Energy seated around my dining room table. It honestly feels like the only important person in the entire country who won’t be here is the President of the United States, and it has everyone strung out on stress. 

Well, except for Christian. 

He left with Calliope early this morning as if it were any other Saturday and hasn’t come back yet. Taylor’s been updating me as he’s driven them all over the goddamn city, and it seems to me like he isn’t planning on being home any time soon. They just met Elliot and Kennedy at the zoo forty-five minutes ago.

When I step into my kitchen, there’s a woman in a white coat waiting for me with a staff of people behind her. She pulls out an elegant looking menu and shows me what she has planned: a pacific northwest inspired meal including Hamachi, locally sourced greens, a fireweed bread inspired by native recipes, and a wild huckleberry cobbler. I’m obviously not about to tell a world celebrated chef that I have any issues with the personally crafted menu she created for me, especially because I don’t, so I thank her warmly and tell her how much I’m looking forward to tasting her food. With a gracious smile, she backs into the kitchen and I hear the distant rumble of the garage behind the noise that erupts around me.

I wait for Christian to come through the kitchen, and when he does, I’m dumbfounded. Calliope is asleep in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. She’s still clutching a plastic bag filled with pink cotton candy, and there’s a white and purple fairy painted on her cheek. The shocking part, though, is that Christian has one to match. Half his face is covered in glittery lavender paint that swoops elegantly around his eyes and lips.

“That’s quite the look, Mr. Grey,” I say, smiling. He rolls his eyes. “What happened?”

“You too, Daddy.” He takes a deep breath, but drags a loving hand softly over Calliope’s back. “What was I supposed to say? No? I’m not a monster.”

 “No, I don’t think you are.” My eyes sparkle at him adoringly. “But, I don’t think it’s a look that’s going to impress Senator Blandino.”

“Good thing I’ve already impressed him.” I laugh, then place a soft kiss against his lips before turning back to my office. His hand reaches out for mine and he tugs me back. “Come help me get Callie cleaned up and put to bed.”

“Can you give her to Mackensie? I’ve got like 3 manuscripts left to get through and I still have to get ready.”

“No.” He steps forward and grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger and stares deep into my eyes. “Come help me give our baby a bath and put her to bed. Everything else can wait until tomorrow.”

“But…”

“It can wait.” His voice is firm, so I nod and actually feel a sense of relief. I’ve been driving myself insane all day waiting for Elizabeth’s email, it will probably be a welcome reprieve shutting all of that out and focusing only on him and Calliope for a little while. You know, before this career deciding dinner. Oh, and did I mention my app is launching in three days?

I can feel the stress soaking deep into my muscles, so I take a deep breath to push it away and slide my hand into Christian’s. He leads me upstairs and I draw a bath for Calliope while he gently eases her out of sleep. Her face is immediately contorted with a sleepy, grumpy expression, but it melts away when Christian takes her to the mirror and lets her see the paint still lighting up the space around her eyes. She brightens instantly, pointing to his face and giggling. Then in the bath, she fights us both to keep us from washing it away. We let her keep the paint, at least until tomorrow, but otherwise wash the day off her and get her dressed in her coziest PJs. I plop down in the rocking chair and take her in my lap so I can read her a story. Christian folds himself on the floor in front of me, looking up at me with that ridiculous paint all over his face, my name proudly displayed on his forearm, and he starts to massage my feet.

I could die right then.

It doesn’t take long for Calliope to drift off, even her dad looks tired from their afternoon together. I still read the entire book, just so I can hold her in my arms a little longer. Just so I can feel Christian touching me. Once I close the hard bound cover, though, Christian gets up, gently eases our baby out of my embrace, and lays her in her crib. I sing a few, soft notes, just in case she’s still on the edge of sleep. But once Christian has the mobile swaying over her wound up, he wraps an arm around me and, together, we slowly back out of the room.

The second we hear the soft, metal clink of the door jam coming together, we’re all over each other.

Maybe it should bother me that he currently looks like a nineteen year old girl strung out on LSD at Coachella, or that the glitter fluttering off of him and on to me will be next to impossible to remove before our guests get here since I don’t have time to take a shower, but it doesn’t. Far from it. How could something that proves what a dedicated father he is do anything but turn me on?

Under the urging of his instant hands and even more aggressive tongue, I move with him back to our bedroom. The light is on in the adjoined bathroom, and it draws his attention. Christian glances up and spots Kate, perched on our bathroom counter, making a face at us through the bathroom door.

“Gross, don’t you two have an off switch?”

“No,” Christian replies, bluntly. “Get out.”

Slowly, a teasing, yet completely elated smile begins to paint her expression. “What. In. The. Hell…”

Christian rolls his eyes. “I’d be very careful about your next words, Katherine.”

She doesn’t even flinch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Christian. I think it’s beautiful. You look like a pretty little princess.”

Christian rolls off me and storms to the door, pushing it all the way open and standing to the side to make room for her. “Get the fuck out, Kate.”

She doesn’t move.

“I’m sorry, I’m really trying to hear you right now but the only thing that I can focus on are the fairy wings delicately framing your eyes. Seriously, how did you get through an afternoon with Elliot having that shit on your face?”

His eyes narrow. “You think this is bad, you should see him.”

She laughs, nearly falling off the counter as she doubles over and tries to catch her breath. Christian shakes his head irritably. “Kate. Get out of my bathroom.”

“No, I need her,” I argue, getting out of bed gently pushing past him. He looks as though I just stole his childhood security blanket. “She’s here to finish my hair and do my makeup.”

“And to cock block you,” Kate adds, finally finding her voice through the raucous laughter. “It’s literally one of the greatest pleasures of my life.”

Christian turns a very unhappy look on me, then lets his eyes wander over my body in regret. Then he lets out a sigh. “Fine, I’ll shower downstairs.”

He leans down and softly presses his lips against mine. It’s sweet and romantic, but there’s a promise buried beneath the gentle caress of what’s in store for me later. Shivers work their way through my bloodstream so that by the time he pulls away, my entire body feels like it’s being pulled with him by some powerful magnetic force.

“I’ll be thinking of you,” I whisper. He smiles against my mouth.

“If I think of you, I’ll be coming down the shower drain. And that would be a terrible waste.”

I bite down on my lip with want and let out a small needy sound that has him lunging for my lips again.

“Twenty-three minutes, Ana. Oop, twenty-two,” Kate interjects, and I pull away from Christian in an instant.

“Shit! I’ve got to…”

“I know, I’m going.” With one last bitter look at Kate, he turns and leaves the room. Kate calls out her goodbye, letting the insincerity of her regret over his misfortune linger in his absence. I glare at her, but she just laughs and reaches for my hair.

Despite the fact that Christian hasn’t even started getting ready by the time Kate begins work on my makeup, he’s the one waiting for me as the end of the hour ticks closer and closer. I can feel him hovering in our bedroom and it does nothing but compound the stress building in my gut.

“Kate…”

“I’m almost done, I’m almost done.” She purses her lips into a pouty pucker and dabs her lipstick covered finger over my bottom lip. “There, you look flawless.”

I turn in the mirror and appreciate her work. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever not be impressed with her artistry. She may have missed her calling, except that she’s actually doing exactly what she was born to do. Snoop where she doesn’t belong.

“You’re a lifesaver,” I tell her. “Help me get into my dress?”

“Sure.” She follows me into my closet, then helps me ease the custom, cobalt blue, Karl Lagerfeld that Christian surprised me with this morning over my head, careful not to ruin my hair or face. Once she’s zipped me in, she stands back to appreciate the completed project. “Honestly, you should let me dress you every day.”

“Do I look smart?” I ask, twisting in front of the mirror and smoothing the lines on the front of the perfectly constructed sheath dress. Kate raises an eyebrow at me like I’ve gone insane, but Christian comes up behind me and grabs hold of my arm, spinning me to face him before Kate can speak.

“You are a vision,” he says, his smoky eyes raking in every inch of my body. “In fact, you might be a little too beautiful for tonight. It wouldn’t be good business if I have to give the Secretary of Energy a broken nose for his wandering eyes.”

“Well, you might just have to learn to control yourself, Mr. Grey.”

“Not when it comes to you.” He lifts my hand high above my head and spins me so that he can get a look at my ass in the dress, then sucks in a sharp breath of air through his teeth. “Absolute perfection.”

I blush and then turn again so I can kiss the lips that offer such sweet words, but Kate’s hand appears between us before I can make contact.

“You’ll ruin your lipstick and I’ve put far too much effort into this masterpiece to let Christian fuck it all up because he can’t keep his dick put away for a few hours. Get moving, Steele.”

Christian glances at her, then turns a too calm look on me. “You see what you’ve brought into our home.”

“Hey, she’s your sister-in-law. You could have talked Elliot out of it.”

He snorts and shakes his head, but the doorbell sounding from downstairs cuts off any smartass remark he might have. Kate begins to gather her things, and I give her a last grateful hug before I take Christian’s hand and walk side by side with him downstairs. Senator Blandino, Senator Hadfield, and Senator Takahashi stand in the foyer waiting for us with their wives.

“Gentleman,” Christian calls in greeting as we descend the stairs. “Welcome to our home. May I offer you a drink?”

“Good show,” Senator Hadfield replies. He leans down and kisses his wife on the cheek, then turns with the other two Senators to exit the foyer. I feel a shock of disappointment when I feel Christian’s hand slip from mine, then a rush of panic when I realize he intends to leave me alone with the wives.

I’ve tried to prepare for this dinner all week. Politics isn’t exactly my strong suit when it comes to conversation, so I’ve been sure to pay extra close attention to the news and any mention of current events. Outside of that, I have no idea what I’m going to talk to these women about. But when our husbands leave, they all turn expectantly to me.

“Uh…” I begin awkwardly. “May I give you a tour?”

“That sounds heavenly, Mrs. Grey. This house is absolutely beautiful,” Senator Hadfield’s wife responds, her Alabama accent wrapped like thick molasses around her words. The woman gives me a wide smile that seems so practiced I feel like I’m standing in front of a beauty queen, and the other two wives immediately imitate her.

“Great,” I reply. “Follow me.”

Luke steps out of the security office and falls silently in place behind me as I turn and lead the women through the house. They’re over complimentary about every room I take them through, oohing and awing at Christian’s impressive art collection, and the flawless design of the rooms we use so little I hadn’t even bothered trying to decorate them and had hired someone to do it instead. Senator Seder’s wife, who joined us while I took the others out on the veranda, laughs nervously at everything I say. When we finally settle down in the formal sitting room and are handed drinks from the wait staff Christian hired, it’s like an all out brawl starts between them as they clamor for my attention.

“So what is it that you are passionate about, Anastasia?” Cynthia Hadfield asks. She slowly lifts her drink and nine pairs of eyes turn curiously in my direction.

I have to fight my blush. “Well, I run a publishing company. So… books, mostly.”

“And that is so important,” Jamila Fox, the wife of Congressman Gerald Fox, interjects. “You know my husband just co-sponsored a bill with the good gentleman from Colorado. Educators all around the country have been saying it will have a dramatic impact on literacy rates for children under the age of ten.”

“That’s right,” Sarah Noriega, the wife of the other congressman, agrees. “My husband always says the best way to take drugs and guns out of young people’s hands is to put a book in them instead.”

“Is that so?” I take a long drink from my wine glass, nodding politely as the other wives jump in and try to impress me with the legislation their husbands have introduced, or their voting records on things they think will be important to me. It’s a strange feeling. I’ve been a nervous wreck over this dinner for days because I was worried I’d look like an idiot in front of these women, who are part of the very fabric that makes up our most important government institutions, but there’s so much ass-kissing going on in this room I’m starting to feel violated.

“And what about your foundation?” Mitzy Wehrenberg, the wife of the Secretary of Energy asks. “The Christian and Anastasia Grey Foundation, what do you do?”

“We provide resources, safe shelter, and legal assistance for women who are victims of sexual or domestic violence, and children who come from abusive homes.”

“That’s so noble,” Jamila says, placing a hand over her heart as though she’s been deeply touched. “You know, I would love to organize an event together to raise awareness for your foundation. I’m sure you know, but Gerald is a primary candidate for President of the United States. I just know that he could bring so much attention to your cause.”

“That sounds great.” I glance around the room, feeling a strange hunger suddenly directed at me that makes me want to escape. “Would you excuse me for a moment?”

I can see the argument on each and every one of their faces, but I ignore the silent pleas and scurry from the room. Luke is leaning against the wall of the foyer just outside the door, typing on the keyboard of his phone.

“Important security business?” I check, he looks up and frowns.

“Uh… sure.”

“Sure?”

“I mean, I’m just coordinating with the team on the perimeter. Everything’s quiet.”

“Feel like coordinating my great escape, instead?” I ask with a dark laugh. He raises an eyebrow at me.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah.” I sigh. “I just didn’t expect the whole ‘men go one way, women go another’ thing. I don’t have Christian to shield me and they’re all so busy talking over each other and interjecting themselves into everything I say that I’m starting to feel like an animal on display at the zoo. I don’t get it, they all seem to know one another but none of them are talking to each other. Only me.”

He chuckles. “You really don’t get what your husband just did, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he’s changed the entire course of the fucking future, Anastasia. It’s not just solving the energy crisis or reversing climate change. He’s made things like the kind of deep space exploration you see in Star Trek possible.  He’s reached out to organizations that help developing nations to give them the infrastructure that will lift millions of people out of poverty. Billions, maybe. Historians are going to talk about him the way we talk about Edison, or DiVinci, or Galileo.” He pauses, and takes a step closer to me. “Oil prices have been in freefall since the announcement. Each and every day Endurance exists, it becomes more and more valuable. I overheard a little bit of what they’re talking about in his office, and they’re throwing out numbers in the billions, Ana. Multiple billions.”

“I know! But what does that have to do with the women acting like lost puppies in my sitting room right now?”

He rolls his eyes. “Your net worth is about to be more than a lot of entire ass countries. That’s power, Steele, and that’s what tonight is about. Those women in there are just waiting for you to tell them what you want so that they can give it to you. And, in return, they’ll expect you to donate to their husband’s re-election campaigns, dump money into their Super PACs, and fund their pet projects. This is an exchange, you just need to figure out what you want.”

I think about that for a moment. Even when we thought we were about to lose everything, I’d never worried myself too much over the amount of money spread between Christian’s bank accounts. I could live at his side just as easily as I do now if he had absolutely nothing. Power is his kink. To me it feels a little… daunting.

That is what the uncertainty brewing in my gut means, isn’t it?

“Mrs. Grey?” a waiter asks. He approaches cautiously, like he’s worried he’s interrupting something important between Luke and I.

“Yes?”

“Dinner is being served.”

“Oh, great.” I turn back to Luke and gesture back to the room I just vacated with a nod of my head. “Will you let them know and I’ll go get Christian?”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Grey.”

This time, I don’t even hesitate. I reach back and, with as much force I can muster while I’m balancing on my heels, I punch him right in the bicep. He lets out a sharp yell and reaches up to cup the sore muscle.

“Owe! What the hell, Ana?”

“I told you if you called me Mrs. Grey one more time…”

He glares at me, then shakes his head. “Oh, you just wait, I’m going to get you so bad later.”

“I’ll look forward to watching you try.” I give him a simpering smile, then turn for Christian’s office. I can hear him still muttering threats under his breath as I round the corner.

“Christian?” I knock softly on the half-opened door and take a step inside. The men all turn to look at me, though Christian is the only one who doesn’t seem angered by my interruption.

“Yes, baby?”

“Dinner is being served, if you’d like to join us in the dining room.”

“Impeccable timing,” he says, smiling. Then he rises from his seat and motions for the other men in the room to do the same. Surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly after what Luke just told me, the men do exactly as he says, as though they’re a pack of trained German Shepherds.

I take the hand Christian offers me and walk with him from his office, falling into the background as their conversation picks up where I’d interrupted them. We emerge in the dining room to find the wives already seated, finally chatting amongst themselves. The men file into the empty seats dotted between them.

“Would you look at that?” Cynthia says, when she looks up and sees Christian pull my chair out for me. She turns and smacks her husband lightly across his sport coat. “You see, that is chivalry. How come you never dote on me like that?”

Her husband ignores her.

“It’s like I was saying, Grey,” he begins instead. “Your vision is noble, but you’re never going to achieve it without the intervention of the United States government.”

“Hence why I’ve invited you here this evening.” 

“So, we have a deal?” 

“We’ve always had a deal. At $70 billion.”

The Senator shakes his head. “I can’t get that without going through Congress.” 

“Then I suggest you go to Congress.” 

“The Senate is controlled by conservatives,” Senator Blandino interjects. “We won’t get $70 billion for anything but war.” 

“Perhaps they’ll change their minds when the United States starts dramatically falling behind the rest of the world in energy production. My company has already been contacted by the leaders of several foreign governments who seem much less hesitant to give me what I’m asking for…” 

That makes several of the officials around the table straighten nervously. “Which governments?” the Army officer with three stars displayed across his chest asks from across the table. 

Christian shrugs and takes a very lazy drink of wine. “Why don’t you go pull up a list of every member of the United Nations. That ought to give you a good idea.” 

Anxious looks fly around me, and Senator Hadfield clears his throat. “I think we’d all agree that it is in all of our best interest as Americans to see our country and our economy thrive. You seem to be the one with your thumb on that pulse right now, Grey. Perhaps you should think of it as service to your country.”

“You see, that’s the problem, Senator. I don’t much care about service to my country, and what you’re asking for is practically welfare.”

“That’s interesting,” Senator Hadfield says, then he turns to me. “Mrs. Grey, your father served in the military, isn’t that right?”

I nod. “Yes, he was a Captain in the Army.”

“An impressive one,” the Army officer speaks up. “I checked his service records and they’re exemplary. He fought in Desert Storm, deployed to Afghanistan three days after September 11^th, and two tours in Iraq. He received a Distinguished Service Cross for his bravery fighting along the Syrian border. You should be proud.”

“I am. Very.”

“He was in an insurgent attack a few months before his discharge,” the man continues. “Eight men were lost under heavy artillery and airstrikes. That must have been extremely traumatic for him.”

“What?”

The man’s brow crinkles. “Surely you know he received a medal of valor?”

“Yes, for saving a man’s life…”

“Three men’s lives. He pulled them out of a burning building after it had sustained several minutes of bombing.”

My face goes blank, and Christian moves his hand to my knee under the table. “General, Captain Steele has chosen to keep much of the experiences he endured during his time in Iraq private. I wish you would respect his wishes. There’s no reason to worry my wife over things that have already happened and are now in the past.”

“My apologies, Mr. Grey. I wasn’t aware… but it brings me back to my point. That building was merely a casualty alongside the insurgents’ real target. A petroleum reserve. Had we had Endurance, there would have been no target. No fuel for the flames that ignited that structure. It’s possible Captain Steele would have never been in that building.”

I feel a heavy thud in my chest, then turn wearily to Christian. He’s already staring at me.

“With Endurance,” another of the military officials continues, “ Our armed forces will be more prepared to face siege under enemy fire than we’ve ever been. No more will our boys be put in danger by a cargo truck in a caravan transporting gasoline, or have their lives put in jeopardy because they have to refuel in enemy territory. Think of the airmen who won’t be lost in a mission because they won’t run out of fuel somewhere over the ocean. Think of all the military men, like Captain Steele, whose lives could be saved by this technology.”

Christian glances at the man in uniform across from him, then back at me. There’s a conflict in his eyes, but I can’t read what it is. Before I figure it out, he squeezes my hand under the table and turns back to Congressman Fox.

“Do you know why I started this project, Congressman?” 

“No, I’m afraid I don’t.” 

“During my wife’s final year at Harvard, she was relentlessly stalked and threatened by a man who had a vendetta against me. She was terrified, and I did everything I was supposed to do. I went to the police. Several times, in fact. But they never did anything to help her. To protect her. By the end, it became glaringly obvious that the police were actually helping the man terrorizing my family.”

“I uh… I’m very sorry, Mr. Grey. That must have been a terribly uncomfortable situation…”

“Uncomfortable? That man sent people into my home who murdered my nanny and held a gun to the head of my two month old daughter. That man fired on my security team, on his own people, and on me. He tried to take my wife so he could rape her, and it was not the police who stopped him. It was the police who created the diversion that almost let him get away with it. Does that sound uncomfortable to you?”

A fork drops on a plate, and I briefly glance at Mitzy to find she’s suddenly gone as pale as a ghost. Christian squeezes my knee under the table, checking on me. I have a vague idea where he may be going with this, so I take a breath to calm my pounding heart, reach down, and squeeze back. 

I’m okay. Keep going.

“The officers who helped that man come after the people I love are still hiding in the Seattle Police Department,” Christian continues.  “The city’s revenue shortfalls this year mean there isn’t money for an investigation and without one we’ll never get justice. I’ve tried to give them the money myself, but apparently… there’s a conflict of interest. Can you get me the names of those officers, Senator?”

He blinks for a moment, then his eyes shift to the government officials around the table. One by one, they start to nod. “Uh, yeah. Yes, I could pull some strings and reallocate some funds for an investigation. We’ll call it a routine examination of police misconduct.”

“Then I might just be willing to make a deal,” Christian adds. “In the interest of serving my country.” 

Every single person around the table perks up. “You would?” 

“As long as the contract is very clear that any Endurance technology will remain entirely under GEH control.” 

“Well now, let’s not be unreasonable, Grey. Do you know the kind of clearance you’d have to get to have access to the things Endurance will be integrated with?” 

“I assume it’ll probably be fairly high.” 

The Congressman starts to grind his teeth, so I turn to him with a clueless kind of smile. “You know, Jamilla and I were just talking earlier this evening about how wonderful it would be to have this deal made by tonight. It would give us such a wonderful opportunity to stay connected and work closely together, possibly on a fundraising event for your presidential campaign. How much am I allowed to donate to your super pac, Jamilla?”

“No limit,” she squeaks.

 “Interesting.”

Jamilla starts to glow and turns excited eyes on her husband. The muscles in his face go tight as he turns to Senator Blandino. “Technically, he’s the only fusion energy expert in the world. We might need him and his company regardless. I say we make the deal, and we get him the clearance.” 

There’s a murmur of agreement around the table that eventually reaches Senator Blandino.

“Then, I think we have a deal.” He reaches across the table to shake Christian’s hand, which Christian takes with a firm grip and a triumphant grin. 

“Well, I don’t think we need to intrude on your evening any more,” Senator Takahashi says, getting to his feet. The elegant dinner laid out in front of us has only been half eaten and there hasn’t even been mention yet of the cobbler waiting for dessert, but that doesn’t phase any of them. It’s clear, as they file out, that they came for that handshake. Now that they have it, they’re done with us. It makes me nervous about the promise that was just made to me.

“Thank you for an excellent evening, Grey,” Congressman Fox says, reaching out to shake Christian’s hand one last time. “You might be just about to become the richest man in the world, my good friend.”

Christian puts an arm around me. “I already am.”

With a nod, our guests turn to file out of the foyer, but Christian calls out to stop the imposing one near the back.

“Yes, Mr. Grey?” Senator Blandino asks, turning back to face us.

“My head of security, Jason Taylor, will be reaching out to your office this week regarding the investigation. I expect it will be done extremely timely.”

“Right. Yes. Very good.” He gives us an awkward smile, then turns to leave. I don’t even get to watch the door close before Christian sweeps me up into his arms.

“I can’t believe you did that,” I say, breathlessly. “I’d given up on that. I didn’t think…” 

He pulls back and grabs my chin, holding my face so that he can hold my gaze. “I told you that I would protect you. I told you that no one would come for us ever again. I’m going to take over the world, Anastasia. And I’m going to rule it for you.” 

He leans down and kisses me, but I’m smiling so broadly that it’s difficult for him to find any kind of real purchase. He doesn’t seem bothered. In fact, it makes him grin too. 

“And the way you came in at the end to set the stakes. To seal the deal. I knew we were a good team but you… you were magnificent. I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but you have me rock-fucking-hard.”

He reaches down and sweeps me into his arms, and I let out an elated shriek as he starts up the stairs. He dumps me on the bed the moment we’re in the bedroom and then towers over me. The look in his eyes instantly makes me wet.

“I’m going to make you safe word,” he says, and the desperate need on my face instantly goes cold.

“What? What did I do?”

He shakes his head. “It’s not a punishment, Ana. This is a reward. I’m going to make you come until you say ‘red.’”

“What?”

He gives me a crooked smile, then crawls onto the bed, over the top of me. His mouth sinks into mine, pushing deep into me. I’m just getting lost in his kiss, when he pulls back.

“Just for tonight,” he says, so softly I can barely hear him. “You may come for my fingers.”

I shudder with pleasure at the thought, then moan as his lips start moving down my body. He peels my dress off me slowly, kissing each new inch of skin he exposes until he slips the fabric completely off of me. When he removes my panties, he purposefully holds my gaze, then he slowly lowers them into his back pocket. 

Fuck.

His lips wrap around my big toe, and his hands massage the arches of my feet. His tongue begins the journey up my ankle, then my calf, my knee, my thigh… all the way up until he’s hovering over my clit with his lips.

“I love you, Anastasia. And I am incredibly proud to have you by my side. I want you to think about that while you scream for me.” Then his mouth is on me. He’s slow at first, taking his time as he licks the arousal around my lips and sucks gently at my clit. The closer I get to orgasm, the more aggressive he becomes. His tongue flicks against me so intensely, I try to pull away from him. His hands lock down on my hips, pulling me back to his mouth, and he starts to suck again. The warmth comes in pulses, with every pull of his lips. It starts between my legs, then works its way up my stomach, through my arms, down to my toes, and eventually out my mouth.

“Fuck, Christian! I’m coming!”

“Don’t hold back, baby.” I writhe under his tongue, the pleasure intensifying to a degree that has my back arched so high off the bed I almost feel like I’m floating. A small voice in the back of my head wonders why he isn’t more concerned about keeping me quiet. Calliope is asleep just down the hall, after all. But he never moves to silence me. He seems to revel in the sound of his name echoing around the room.

“One,” he pants, lifting up just enough to free his erection and plunge it inside of me. I scream again, then push back on his cock until I erupt for the second time. He rides me hard through two more orgasms before he loses himself. With a sharp hiss, he pulls out of me and strokes his cock until ropes of come fly out across my stomach. The moment his hand stops moving, he moves his face back between my legs.

“Oh my god! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

“God isn’t about to make you come, baby,” he growls against me. “Say my name.” 

“Christian!” With his fingers plunging in and out of me, it’s not long before he pulls another orgasm out, and by the time I come down, I’m starting to understand how you could be forced to safe word with too many orgasms.

“Wait,” I pant, pushing against him as he positions his once again fully stiff cock at my entrance. His hands wrap around my wrists and force them over my head as he drives in.

“That’s not a safe word.”

I pant with exertion, whimpering slightly with each thrust. It’s heaven, it’s hell. It’s too much, it’s too little. He’s suffocating me, he’s not holding me close enough. I can feel his come slipping messily between our bodies while he pounds into me, and that in itself is enough to set me off again. Tears pour from my eyes as I unravel for the sixth time.

“Christian…” I whine in protest. He pauses, but his hands keep their death grip on my body.

“Do you want to say something to me, Anastasia?”

I let my mouth fall open, but no words come out. I can’t tell him to stop. I never want him to stop. Even if it’s too much, even if it’s overwhelming, even if it’s gone past pleasure and leaves me writhing in pain, I don’t ever want him to stop. I want his hands and his lips on me. I want him as close as is physically possible, and he can’t get there without being inside of me.

“I’m waiting,” he says. A finger slides into me, then another, and he starts to pump them in and out. “Ana…”

“I don’t have anything to say,” I moan, and he grins.

“Good. Give me your phone.”

“My pho—“ His fingers pull out and he slaps me hard over the clit, making me cry out with pain. I squirm away from it, but the shocks from the impact shooting down my legs from the contact aren’t tormenting. They’re electrifying.

“I didn’t ask for backtalk, I asked for your fucking phone.”

I turn for the nightstand and take my iPhone off the charger. He opens the camera and points it directly between my legs, shooting a video of his fingers fucking me all the way to orgasm. Then he makes me watch it while he goes down on me again.

“I can’t… oh, FUCK!” I scream as the orgasm I’ve lost count of swallows me. I’m limp, my body covered in sweat. My insides are throbbing. When he flips me over, I can barely hold my hips up high enough for him to thrust in again, and I’m so swollen from his assault that he has to force his way through my tight walls.

“You’re not going to keep me out, Ana. You. Belong. To. Me.” He grunts with the effort of each thrust and it drives me into something deep and savage. As he hammers his way in and out, the things he says to me are so filthy and depraved that I know he’s beyond rational thought himself. We’re animals, lost in a carnality that has the power to erase us both as we blow each other’s minds over and over again. I don’t even know if I’m screaming anymore. If I’m making any noise at all. The only thing I can think of or feel is every inch of his cock sliding against my slick, sensitive lips. I couldn’t even tell you how many times he makes me come before finally emptying himself inside of me.

“Red,” I sob when he turns me back on my back and moves to plunge his fingers in me again. “Red, red, red.”

“Shhh.” His entire demeanor changes in an instant. His hands disappear from my skin, and his weight lifts from my body. He moves to the side of me, hovering next to me until I give him permission to touch me again. But I can’t. I don’t even think I can speak.

“Ana? Are you okay?”

I let my head roll over the pillow to face him. “Who’s Ana?”

He laughs, then scoots as close as he can without pressing himself against me. His eyes shine down on me with pride and love. “I want to kiss you, but you safeworded. I won’t touch you again until you tell me you want me to.”

I nod and his lips lower to mine. None of the libidinous fire that existed between us just a minute ago lingers in his kiss. It’s soft, deep, and filled with a thousand confessions of his feelings for me. I soak it all in, bathe in the feeling, until he pulls away.

“I have to go to China at the end of next week,” he says at last. “I’d like you to go with me.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve been invited to the Grand Palace in Beijing to discuss Endurance with the Chinese government.”

“That’s very fancy, Mr. Grey.”

“It is. And, I’m told, a great honor. One I’d like to share with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’d like you to come with me. In fact, from now on, I always want you to come with me. I’ve spent enough time away from you, I’ve missed enough of Calliope’s milestones. I don’t want to do that anymore. I amassed this power so that I can do whatever I want, and what I want is to be with you. All the time.”

“That’s very sweet, but I can’t go to China next week. I’m flying to New York on Monday for my app release.”

“So, I’ll go with you. We’ll spend a few days in New York, then we’ll come home to refuel and pick up Calliope, and be on our way.”

“It’s not that easy, Christian. Don’t you realize how much work I’m going to have to do after the app launches.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to work overseas, and you can work on the flight. Besides, it might be good for you to not see the numbers from your release right away. It would be… healthy if you gave yourself a few days to be successful before you start thinking you’re a failure.”

“That’s not a bad point…”

“No, it’s not. Come to China with me.”

I take a deep breath, mulling it over. “But Carmen—”

“Don’t worry about Carmen Gallagher. If necessary, I will deal with her.”

I laugh, then shake my head. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.”

“I know. You’re a Grey.” He grins, then kisses me once more. “Come to China with me, Ana.”

It takes several seconds to mull it over, but it’s him that makes up my mind. Not just the words he’s given me, but the way he looks at me. The way his hands absentmindedly brush over my skin and leave goose bumps behind. Why the hell would I want to spend any time away from him either?

“Okay,” I agree.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

He grins in victory, then lowers his lips to mine again.

Next Chapter

Barney holds open the conference door for me, and I practically float past him. This is actually happening, and in exactly the way I want it to. Everything has gone so perfectly that if Barney weren’t just as good at managing my anxiety as he was at programming, I’d probably be preparing myself to be walloped with a sidewinder that was about to bring everything crashing down. 

As it is, I’m practically euphoric.

“I’ll send the file with the raw library data now so you’ll have it by the time you get back to GEH,” I tell him. “How soon do you think I’ll get to see the beta app with content?” 

“We’ve already programmed the testing criteria, so as long as your file translates into the system correctly, I can get you an updated version within twenty-four hours of the first load.”

“Really?” 

“Of course. I fully expect to be completely finished by the end of the weekend. We’ll have days to fuck…” His words halt and he grimaces as he looks up at me. “Uh… sorry. We’ll have days to mess around with it to try and find any bugs. Plenty of time to get them fixed before the launch.” 

“That’s excellent. And you don’t need to apologize.” I lean in, like I’m going to give him the low down on some juicy gossip. “I’m just as fucking excited as you are.” He laughs, then he seems to relax a little.

“You know there’s a joke we tell in R&D that Grey always gets what he wants because he’s got B.D.E., but that can’t be it because you’ve got it to.” 

“B.D.E.?”  

His cheeks pink and once again he looks at me with slight embarrassment. “Uh… Big Dick Energy. It’s more of a swagger really, like… the way he holds himself. It makes people listen to him and you have that. It’s almost like the two of you are so similar that you move the same.”

“Nah.” I wave him off. “He’s just got me well trained.” 

“Yeah, I think he’s got us all well trained. It’s his world and we just live in it.”

“Thankfully, he’s a benevolent dictator.” 

“Ha! To you, maybe.”

I laugh and Barney joins in as we make our way to the doors. After repeating my standing request to keep me informed of any major developments between now and our next meeting, he humors me with a good natured smile and wishes me a good afternoon before he makes his exit. I feel a giddy rush of excitement over the constant deluge of good news he’s given me, then take a lap through the floor to check-in with my people. I end up lingering a little too long at Luke’s desk, so by the time I make it to my own office and sit down in front of my computer, my inbox is full. Unfortunately, the email waiting for me at the top of the pile isn’t from one of my editors. It’s from Carmen.

---

From: Carmen Gallagher

Subject: Quarterly Sales Reports

Date: August 6th 2012   10:45 AM

To: Anastasia Grey

Attachment: 2012 Q3 Sales.exe

I’m not happy, and I’m running out of patience.

Carmen Gallagher

CEO, Gallagher Corporation

---

I click on the attachment the accounting team presented her in their meeting this morning and cringe at the numbers glaring back at me. They’re dismal. The Black Rose is reflected here, which only drags down the average from Stevens’ and Jacki’s releases. After that, there’s an entire month and a half where hardly any sales were made at all. Though, I was prepared for that and Carmen should have been too. 

She was the one who only gave me one more release and put ridiculous criteria on it.

So, it’s not the financials that bother me. It’s the patience part of the email that dampens the elation I feel following my meeting with Barney. Greenwich Library aside, I’m still looking for our next traditional bestseller, but the sort of title Carmen has tasked me with pulling in is a nearly impossible feat for the size of our press. We don’t attract the authors who already have a significant following and can command those kinds of sales. Finding an undiscovered author who is good enough to pull in 50,000 units sold on their first title and who doesn’t have the confidence in their talent to go straight to a big five publisher is like trying to find a specific drop of water in a lake.

And I still have to compete with Christian. 

Grey Publishing remains the dominant small press in Seattle, especially after The Black Rose fiasco, and every time I’ve gotten close to finding my very own white peacock, Elizabeth Morgan has swooped in and stolen it out from under me. 

I exit out of Carmen’s email without replying and dig in to a dark comedy Roger forwarded to me, telling myself that today is the day I’m going to make my big discovery. It has promise, but only for the Greenwich Library. As I type that into my response to Roger, the paging tone on my desk phone breaks the silence around me.

“Ana, you’ve got a call on line one,” Penny says. “It’s your agent.”

I frown and turn to my phone, pressing my finger into the button next to the blinking red light and bringing the handset to my ear. “Hey, Lydia. What’s up?”

“Oh you know, just checking in. Seeing if you need anything. Like… instructions on how to send me your manuscript. It’s really easy. I’ll send you something that you can respond to so you don’t even have to look up my contact information. All you have to do is drag…”

“I’m aware of the process of sending an email, Lydia.”

“That seems suspicious considering you’ve been editing since June and it’s August now, but I still don’t have that gold mine in my hot little hands. The Grey brand is hot, hot, hot right now, Anastasia. We’ve got to capitalize on it.”

I snort. “Don’t you think I’ve given you enough to capitalize on considering I handed my best author over to you, already?”

“Hailey Lewis?” Lydia lets out a harsh, very unimpressed laugh. “No, what you did was pass off one of your fans to me who practically idol worships everything you say to her own detriment. I got her an offer from Scholastic, you know what she said? No. She wants to work with smaller publishers so that she can have more control and be more involved in the process from start to finish. Where do you think she got an insane idea like that from, Anastasia?” She emphasizes my name to make it her answer, but I ignore the slight because everything else she says has my interest peaked.

“She wants to work with a small publisher?”

Lydia makes a disgusted sound. “Of all the ridiculous things… No offense.”

“I’ve got to go,” I tell her quickly, already pulling the receiver from my ear. I can hear her distant protests before I set the handset in its cradle, but I ignore them, hang up, and bolt to my office door. “Abby, can you get Hailey Lewis on the phone for me?”

“Uh… sure thing.” I catch a brief glimpse of my assistant moving to the computer so she can access our contact files before I close the door. Then I pace my office floor until I get the page telling me Hailey is on the phone. “Line one, Ana.”

“Hailey?” I start a little too urgently. She hesitates before she responds, so I force myself to take a deep breath and calm down before I scare her off.

“Hey, Ana… What can I do for you? Please tell me you’re about to release another book. It’s rough out there right now, and I’m dying for some good content.”

“No, I’m actually calling to talk to you about yours. I just got off the phone with Lydia and she told me that you’d backed out of a deal with Scholastic because you wanted to work with a smaller publisher?”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t believe the contract they sent me. There was all this stuff in there about variable royalties based on tiered sales models and about waiving my rights to control the narrative if there was ever an offer for a movie deal. I’m just not ready to deal with all of that yet and I don’t want to get screwed out of something, you know? I want to work with someone who wants to help me build a career, not squeeze every dollar out of me they can.”

“I’m really glad to hear that, Hailey. Are you free this afternoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’d love to have you stop by my office so you and I can discuss exactly what you want out of this experience. Is 2 o’clock okay?”

“To go hang out with my hero while she gives me publishing advice? Uh… yeah.”

I laugh. “Good, I’ll send a car for you. I’m looking forward to seeing you, Hailey.”

“Me too. Bye, Ana.”

“Bye.” I hang up the phone and feel a rush of adrenaline so intense, I have to put myself through a few breathing exercises to stop from hyperventilating. Once I’m under control, I pick up the phone again and dial the extension to Luke’s desk.

“’Sup, dude?” he answers.

“Will you come in here for a minute, please?”

“Everything alright? If someone is holding you at gunpoint, say ‘waddle’.”

“Just get your ass in here.” He laughs, hangs up, and my door swings open thirty seconds later. I stare at him with an enthusiastic smile until he plops down in the chair across from me, eyeing me wearily.

“What? Did you solve the world’s energy crisis too?”

I shake my head. “No, this is so much more important than that. Do you remember Hailey Lewis?”

He scrunches his forehead briefly, trying to remember. “You were in a restaurant with her once. When I was tailing Alexis Young.”

“She’s an author,” I tell him. “She wrote Phoenix.”

“Oh, you mean the amazing book that could sell a hundred thousand copies that you gave away like an idiot.” He laughs, and I pluck a pencil out of its holder to throw at him. He deflects it, grinning at me. “Did she change her mind?”

“Yes! Lydia said she wants to work with a small publisher. I called her and she’s going to come by this afternoon. If I can get her to sign with us then all of my problems will be solved. Her manuscript is that good.”

“So how are you going to reel her in?”

“That’s the best part,” I say, leaning in conspiratorially. “She’s obsessed with Escape and it’s made her idolize me, a little. It might be a little sleazy, but I think if I just give her some personal attention I won’t have to do more than ask.”

“Well, look at you.” He smiles, proudly. “My little Annie Steele is all grown up and ready to take over the world.” 

“Ready to? Bitch, I’m already half-way there.” He laughs again, but I’ve only just joined in when I have a sudden realization that has me diving for my phone. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. I shoot him a guilty look.

“I told her I’d send her a car.” He rolls his eyes as Penny picks up the phone and dictates my instructions to Abby.

At fifteen past two, the car I’d hired to bring Hailey to GSP pulls up in front of our building. I’m waiting there with Luke and Taylor, who had to come down from GEH to keep away the paparazzi currently attacking me with questions about Christian. She steps out of the sleek town car with that same, nearly hysterical, smile plastered across her face. Her cheeks are flushed. Her eyes turn slightly glassy. I open my arms to hug her, and when she steps into my embrace, I can feel her shaking. 

“Thank you for coming, Hailey.”

She lets out a whiny squeal through her nose that is so high I can barely hear it. “Are you kidding me? Thank you for asking me to come! I feel like I’ve won the lottery or something having you basically mentoring me through this.” 

“Who’s the girl, Anastasia?” a papparzo asks as the men around him continue snapping photos of our conversation. It’s a hard fast rule with both Christian and security that I’m not supposed to engage with the paparazzi, but this isn’t about our personal lives and I’m trying to cultivate a best-seller here.

“Hailey Lewis,” I call back. “A phenomenal new author who is about to shake up the entire fiction world, mark my words.” 

The guy who’d asked the question smiles and moves toward me, pulling his camera to his face. Luke shoves him back.

“That wasn’t an invitation,” he says coldly.

“Always so violent, this one,” one of the photographers in the crowd says. Then every camera moves to Luke with the promise of a juicy new headline.

“Come on,” I say to Hailey, pulling her under my arm and turning her to the building. “Let’s go upstairs and talk.” 

Taylor lectures Luke about getting physical with the paparazzi the entire elevator ride. Both Hailey and I stand awkwardly in the corner, avoiding eye contact, while Luke is left to nod at the floor like a chastened child. He won’t challenge anything Taylor says to him, but I can tell by the twitch of tension in his jaw that he doesn’t think he was wrong. 

Honestly, I don’t think he was either. 

It can be terrifying being caught in the middle of the horde, unable to see through the flashes or hear over their shouts and questions. Luke’s gotten me out of some unnerving situations multiple times, and if the worst that comes of that is a few trashy articles about our security team abusing the paparazzi, then I’ll just ask Kate to put the power of Kavanagh Media behind us and we’ll defend him. 

“Thank you, Taylor,” I say, dismissing him the moment we step out onto our floor. He nods to me once, then moves back in the elevator, and I place a reassuring hand on Luke’s shoulder. 

“I appreciate what you do to protect me, Luke. Fuck that guy.” 

He chuckles, instantly perking up. “You know I always got your back, Steele.” 

With a smile, I turn back to Hailey and gesture for her to lead the way. She’s shaking her head when I close my office door behind us.

“See, that’s why I’m not interested in the big publishers and big contracts and big… anything. I couldn’t handle paparazzi like that. Having no privacy… how do you do it?” 

I wave her off. “Oh, they’re not here for me. The only time the paparazzi ever call my name is if it’s followed by, ‘is your husband…’. If you want to stay private, all you have to do is refrain from marrying an ambitious tech guy.” 

“Noted.” She laughs.

“So tell me about what happened with Lydia.” 

Hailey takes a deep breath and recounts essentially everything that’s happened since I left her in that restaurant with my agent months ago. She’s been put through the ringer, strung along, manipulated, told one thing and then presented with something completely different. By the time she’s finished, I’m a little surprised she’s even interested in publishing anymore.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell her. “I had tough negotiations when I published Escape too. They controlled everything. They even made me change the title.” 

“They did?” 

I nod. “I get it. Your art is personal and you want to protect it. I want to help you do that.” 

“I know.” She blushes and looks down at her hands, fighting the smile that threatens the corners of her mouth. “You feel a little like my guardian angel. You’ve inspired me. You’ve read and encouraged my work. You’ve made me feel like my voice is important. You’ve given me the avenue to publish under my own terms… I don’t know what I did to deserve your kindness, or your guidance, and I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay it.”

“You could start by working with me.” I lean on my desk, giving her the warmest look I can summon. “I want to sign you, Hailey. I want to help you bring your words and your message to the world on your terms, and I want to do it with you personally.”

Her brow furrows. “What?” 

“I’m being very honest with you when I tell you that I haven’t found anything that has inspired me the way Phoenix has since I brought you to that lunch with Lydia. Before that, even. I want to publish your story, Hailey. And I want to help you use it to launch a career.” 

She looks overwhelmed, her eyes darting quickly back and forth before she collapses against the back of her chair. “But… I thought you already did?” 

I shake my head. “I know, but I got overruled last time. It’s different now. I’m the Editor-in-Chief and it’s my call who we sign. I want that to be you.” 

“No, I mean… you already did. I just signed with Grey Publishing like four days ago. Elizabeth told me that your husband brought my manuscript to her personally. That was you… wasn’t it?” 

The smile on my face melts away into shock. “No.” 

“Then, why did Mr. Grey give her my manuscript?” 

Because he has a death wish apparently. 

I take a breath and smile again. “Because you’re brilliant and Grey Publishing is known for excellence. He’s a savvy businessman.”

She beams again. “We’ll still work together though, right? I mean, if I have questions or need advice… can I reach out to you?”  

“Of course.” The words come out a little strained, but I manage to keep my face pleasant. She doesn’t seem to notice and that’s good, because I mean it. It’s just that my heart is thundering in my chest so hard I can hear the blood pounding behind my ear drums and my entire body is singing with nervous energy.

She smiles and stands from her chair, so I move around the desk to wrap her in a hug.

“I can trust Elizabeth. Right, Ana?” She glances up at me, looking for reassurance. I nod.

“Yeah, Elizabeth is one of the best. You’re in good hands.” 

“Good.” She exhales in relief, then regains her smile as she turns to leave. I follow her out, but only so I can go straight to Luke’s desk after waving good-bye.

“We’re going to GEH,” I snap. He looks up at me and he must be able to read exactly what just happened on my face because his lips slowly lift his cheeks into a broad grin. 

“He didn’t…” 

“Yup.” 

Laughter follows me all the way to the parking garage and occasionally fills the otherwise quiet car. I’m happy that Luke is amused, because I’m certainly not. I sit there stewing, then silently rehearse the angry speech I’m going to hurl at my husband the entire elevator ride to his floor. 

“Hey, Ana,” Andrea greets me brightly as Luke and I emerge through the security doors. I stalk towards her desk and she frowns at my less than welcoming expression. “He’s got an important meeting in like ten minutes, but I’m guessing you don’t care about that.” 

“Not even a little,” I reply, storming past her desk. I hit the double oak doors to his office hard, throwing them open with enough force that they bounce off the walls behind them.

“You son of a bitch!” I snap, stomping forward. His eyes move up to me from his computer screen and, immediately, an amused smile touches his irresistible lips. 

“Don’t talk about my mother that way, Ana. She adores you.” 

I move past the chair I’d normally take and place my palms flat on his desk, staring straight into his ashen eyes. “I specifically told you to stay the fuck away from Phoenix. I just had Hailey Lewis in my office and she told me that she signed with Grey Publishing earlier this week.”

His smile widens. “Yes, she did. And honestly, it couldn’t have come at a moment too soon since our strongest local competitor is about to launch a subscription application that’s going to be extraordinarily difficult to contend with going forward.”

“What happened to all the talk about wanting to see me rise to the top of my industry and watching me rule over it like a Queen?”

“Nothing, I still feel that way.”

“Then why would you swipe Phoenix out from under me? You knew what that manuscript meant to me, you knew how hard I fought for her.”

“Not hard enough, clearly.”

“Oh, sorry. You’re right. I should have been strategizing on how to win Scott to her side but instead I was waiting for the EMTs to pull you out of a burning building!”

“Come on, Ana. It wasn’t burning.”

I set my jaw in place. “How did you even get her manuscript? I know she didn’t submit it through GP.”

“You store it on our home server and your password on the encryption is ‘Calliope’. You basically gave it to me.”

“No, that’s called stealing.” 

He gives me a slanted look. “Remember a few months ago when you broke into my GEH profile to access Elena Lincoln’s records?” He lifts his hands, weighing them like a scale. “Pot, meet kettle.” 

“I found her, Christian.” 

“And I signed her.” He leans back and the tight leather around his chair groans. “This is the game, baby. You are the one who wanted to play against me.”

“I’ve never done anything underhanded to Grey Publishing. I defend you. I’ve worked around Elizabeth’s bully tactics to keep from having to clash against you head on. You built my app for Christ’s sake! I thought we were a team. I thought we were going to grow together and build each other up, not go behind the other’s back to make shady deals. And you knew! This is sabotage!” Each word picks up the anger from its predecessor like an avalanche rolling down the hill. Christian’s eyes glint with delight. 

“You know, you’re incredibly sexy when you’re mad.”

Automatically, my thighs clench in reaction to his tone, my body already preparing for submission. I fight back the instinct and spit my words out at him through gritted teeth. 

“You wanna turn this into a war, then suit up, Grey.” I stand up straight and cock an eyebrow at him. “Because now I’m coming for you.” 

He smirks. “Not yet, you’re not.” 

With an irritable scoff, I whip around to storm out, which only makes him chuckle. As I yank the door back, I shoot him a death glare that only seems to humor him more, then move like a threatened animal back out to the lobby. Luke is leaning over reception, laughing at something Andrea said when I erupt from the hallway. When he glances up at me, the same heckling smile from the car returns to his face. 

“That was quick.” 

“Oh we’re not finished yet,” I snarl. “We’re not nearly finished.” 

Luke winks at Andrea. “This is gonna be fun.” 

She laughs, then looks up at a man who enters, carrying a temporary guest badge. I watch her greet him warmly, and invite him to take a seat while she lets Chrisitan know he’s arrived, then wrap my arm around Luke’s and pull him toward the elevators. On the way down I’m so heated that I can’t stop myself from pacing. I almost decide that I need to pop into Calliope’s daycare and cuddle her for a few minutes to get myself calmed down, but when I reach for the round number 7 on the elevator panel, I pause. Then I choose 4 instead.

Luke furrows his brow. “Fourth floor? That’s Grey Publishing.” 

 “I know.” The elevator dings and the doors slide open. We have to take a left down a small hallway to get to the double set of doors, and since there’s no security down here, I’m able to walk straight in. 

Claire, the receptionist, is chewing on the end of a pencil, concentrating very hard on something in front of her. When I approach her desk and cough softly, she looks at me and lights up like a snowy street at Christmas time. “Hi, Ana! What are you doing here?” 

“I just wanted to talk to Elizabeth, is she in?” 

“Yeah, let me check and make sure she’s not busy.” 

Claire picks up the phone while I glance nervously over my shoulder. The paranoid part of me is convinced Christian is going to appear at any second and bust me, but for now, it’s just Luke.

“All free,” Claire says. “Her office is just around the corner there.” 

“Thanks.” I give her a toothy smile as I move past reception, waving to the people who are still here from when I was in charge. Elizabeth’s door is closed, so I knock softly and wait for her to invite me inside.

“Come in, Ana!” 

“Hey!” I somehow manage to widen my smile even further as I step into her office and settle down in a chair across from her. This room is bigger than mine at GSP is, which makes me feel a little bit better about what I’m about to do. “How’s it going?”

She lets out a deep sigh. “Well, it would be better if you decided to scrap the Greenwich Library. Our submissions have dropped 30% over the past three weeks, and I’ve only signed two new authors.” 

Really? Excellent.

“I heard,” I lie straight through my teeth. “In fact, Christian and I were just talking about ways we could try to recruit more talent.” 

“You were? Why didn’t he ask me to join you?” 

“Oh, it was informal. I was just popping in to say hello, telling him about my day, and we started talking about work…” My hands flutter away the rest of my sentence, and I settle more comfortably in the chair. “I’m actually here because I wanted to get your opinion on hosting a joint writing conference. Christian and I were thinking it would be a good way to cement our influence in the greater publishing world while also drawing in a larger pool of new authors.” 

I’m careful to include Chrisitan in the decision making process so that she won’t immediately turn around and tattle on me. It seems to work, because I can see her considering it through her silence.

“Those conferences are a good opportunity for our agents and editors to make contacts, and it would be nice to not have to pay travel and lodging for them to go…” 

“And think of all those Grey Publishing branded marketing materials that will be sent out to collegiate English departments and the competition circuit. I bet even that will be enough to give your submission numbers a boost.” 

“That’s true.” She nods, like she hadn’t considered that angle, and then starts to smile. I’m almost sure I’ve got her when she glances up at me and creases her forehead. 

“But why do you want to do this with us? I’ve been in this rivalry with Greenwich for several years and it’s not exactly friendly. Wallace and I have nearly come to blows fighting over authors before.”

I give her the answer I would have given her this morning. “Scott’s gone, Elizabeth. It’s just me now and, from what I can tell, the only thing GSP has gotten out of this rivalry is 2nd place. I want to try something different.” 

She rocks slightly in her chair, letting my words settle before she reacts. It’s an exercise in patience, so I do my best to imitate Christian, keeping my expression passively pleasant, and staring straight back. 

“Well, I love it,” she says at last. “Honestly, it’s the perfect fix for what Grey Publishing needs right now and if you’re willing to take on half the work, I’m willing to let you do it.” 

I laugh. “That’s excellent. What does your calendar look like for October?” 

For the next fifteen minutes, we toss around ideas for dates, venues, and the types of courses and services we want to provide. The deeper into the conversation we get, the more excited Elizabeth becomes. I’m almost high off the sense of victory just at my fingertips. I can feel the power pulsating through my blood.

This must be why Christian is always at his most dominant when he’s in the middle of a hostile takeover. 

“This is going to be faaantastic,” she says, stretching her hands out for emphasis. “I can’t wait to really get started. Should we set up a weekly meeting time?” 

“I’ll have my assistant call yours,” I say, casually. Then I get up from my seat and reach a hand across her desk. “I’m really looking forward to working with you.” 

“Me too. And I gotta tell you, Ana. You left me with some big shoes to fill here. They all still think you’re kind of a legend.” 

I place a hand over my chest, trying to look taken aback, even though I really am flattered. 

“Are you kidding me? You’re so good that my people think of you like the boogeyman. When I told them Lynoel Pierce had an offer from GP, my editors said I was crazy for even trying to pursue him further because we’d never beaten you on a signing before.” 

“And you still haven’t.” She smirks and there’s an arrogance to her statement that plays right into my hands. I laugh, then shake my head in dismay as I turn for the door. Just as I’m about to step out though, I stop and turn back to face her. 

“Oh, before I forget. Would you send me a copy of your new author contract so I’ll have it on file for the conference?’ 

“Yeah.” She smiles. “Sure thing.” 

“Thanks, Elizabeth. Talk to you soon.” 

“Bye, Ana.” 

I leave the room and close the door behind me, taking a moment to pause and bask in the feeling of triumph. It was almost too easy. Maybe I wasn’t actually being facetious earlier. Maybe Christian really does have me trained. 

The thought makes me smile as I make my way out to Luke, who’s hovering awkwardly in the lobby like he’s not really sure what he should be doing. I don’t say anything to him as I wave goodbye to Claire and walk through the main door and into the hallway. He follows close behind me all the way to the elevator, respecting my silence until I reach out for the call button. 

“Well?” 

I turn a satisfied look in his direction. “I can play dirty too.”

Next Chapter

This time, when the sun comes up, Christian is wrapped all the way around me. It’s how we’d fallen asleep, and neither one of us moved an inch away from the other all night. Even now, when I need to get up and check on the sick baby I’d put to bed the night before, I’m struggling to wiggle out of his embrace. Instead, I squeeze the arm he has draped over the top of me and push ever so gently back into him. I’d meant it as the best I’m-getting-up-but-I wish-I-wasn’t hug I could manage, hoping that I wouldn’t wake him. I do, though, and his arms immediately pull and hold me tight against his solid form. 

“No, actually I think you’re perfect right where you are,” he says, his voice still hoarse with sleep. I hum in agreement. 

“I know, but I need to get up.” I push away again, but he offers no slack in his hold, so I don’t go anywhere. I smile at his persistence, feeling more wanted and cherished than I have all week. It makes it difficult to continue protesting with any kind of conviction. “Christian, let me go.” 

“Never.” He rolls on top of me, stretching his body over mine and using his weight to hold me in place. “Don’t go to work today.” 

“I’m in the middle of a gigantic project with very tight deadlines, I have to go to work today.” 

“I know exactly where you are in that project and your app is nowhere near ready for testing phases. Anything else you have to do, you can do from home. Stay with me.” 

I roll my eyes. “Coming from the man who has literally been sleeping at work for the last week.” 

“Exactly, I’ve earned a day off and the only thing I want with that time is to spend it with you.” He leans down and nuzzles my nose. “Let’s get on my plane and get out of town for a few days. We could go meet up with Mia in Prague and spend the weekend with her. Or we could go somewhere with a beach. Maybe… Bermuda? Bahama?” He starts to sing softly. “Come on, pretty mama.” 

I laugh. “And what about your daughter?” 

“My daughter would have a fabulous time in Kokomo.”

“Except that she’s sick.” 

The enticing smile he’s using against me disappears in an instant. “What do you mean, ‘she’s sick’?”

“I had to pull her out of daycare yesterday because she had a fever. The nurse at her pediatrician’s office said to give it a day and see if it went down, and if not to bring her in.” 

He leaps out of bed, scooping up the suit pants he’d carelessly discarded on the floor the night before, and pulling them on while he rushes through the door. I try to remind him to take the thermometer with him, but he’s already gone. With a sigh, I climb out of bed to retrieve it myself before I join him. 

He’s speaking in a gentle voice when I walk into Calliope’s room, too low for me to make out the words. I watch him lift our daughter from her crib like she’s a wounded puppy. She curls around him, making the most pitiful sounds as he cuddles her and starts to sway. 

“Owie, Daddy,” she whines. 

“Come here, Calli-lilly,” I say, moving around Christian so I can swipe the thermometer across her forehead. It beeps almost immediately and my heart sinks. 101.2. She’s worse than yesterday. “Well, it looks like you’re going to get your wish. I’m going to have to take her to the doctor, so there’s no way I’m going into work today.” 

He nods and brushes his hand softly over Calliope’s curls. “I’ll call Dr. Robinson if you’ll get her ready?” 

I’m so used to doing absolutely everything on my own that his offer comes as a shock. “Oh, great! Thank you.” 

He passes Calliope to me gingerly, then places a quick kiss against my lips before he darts from the room. Calliope starts to cry the moment her daddy isn’t in her sights anymore, so I sing to her while I get her dressed. To my complete and utter shock, it works. She stops mid-wail, tears still rolling down her cheeks, and stares at me. Either her fever is making her hallucinate or The Beach Boys might actually be the cure for all ailes in life.

Once she and I are ready, we head downstairs to find her dad. He’s in the kitchen talking with Luke and Taylor. 

“Yes, sir,” Taylor says with a nod. He turns away but Luke hangs awkwardly behind, looking as though he’s holding back from saying something. 

“Was I unclear, Sawyer?” Christian asks. 

“No, I just… If she’s not going into work and you’re going to be home all day… Can I… Could I take the day off?” 

Christian raises an eyebrow at him. “You want a day off? You’ve never asked me for a day off in the entire time you’ve worked for me.” 

“Yeah well, we were up late drinking last night and… uh, I hung out with Calliope all day yesterday. If she’s sick, I should probably…” he pauses, unsure of his next words. “Take it easy?”

Christian eyes him suspiciously, but nods. “Sure. Since I don’t intend to let Ana out of my sight, take the day.” 

“Thanks, Grey.” Luke turns to me. “I’m going to get a hotel room, so I’ll see you in the morning?” 

“You’re getting a hotel room?” 

“Yeah. You know, there’s… contamination here, or whatever.” 

I narrow my eyes at him. “What’s going on, Luke?” 

“Nothing,” he says, but it’s the same tone he uses when he says ‘I don’t want to talk about it, Ana,’ which immediately tells me that  whatever this is, it’s about Jade. He walks out of the kitchen. I pass Calliope to Christian and go after him. 

“Luke!” 

He stops and turns to face me, folding his hands behind his back and giving me a passive look. “Yes, Mrs. Grey?” 

“Don’t Mrs. Grey me, and don’t act like I don’t know you well enough to know you’re not getting a hotel room to avoid Calliope’s germs.” 

He laughs. “Brilliant work, detective.” 

Oh yeah, if he’s being this evasive, it’s definitely about Jade. I just need to make him say it. 

“Why don’t you want to stay here tonight, Luke?” 

“Because Taylor has very strict rules about staff bringing random girls back to your house for the night and I don’t plan on adding a request for a background check to my seduction technique.”

The excitement boiling inside of me fizzles out in an instant. He’s not going to see her. He’s just in the grief stage where he wants to fuck anything with two legs.

For all his talk about not being Kate, they’re exactly the same person. 

“Luke… that’s not going to make any of this easier. Don’t you remember what you said to me when Christian and I were broken up and I was dealing with it by partying four nights a week?”

He snorts. “Four nights a week? Really trying to rewrite history here, aren’t you?” 

I narrow my eyes at him. “You can’t lose her by losing yourself, and that’s not the guy you are.”

“Well maybe I’m not ready to lose her.” He turns around and walks through the living room and down the hallway that leads to the staff quarters at the back of the house. I want to go after him, but Christian’s already packing up to go.

“Ready, baby?” he asks. 

“Yeah.” I take Calliope, then grasp his hand and let him tug us both out to the garage. Once again, Calliope lies limply in her carseat, looking miserable. She doesn’t say anything, or make any noises at all really as we head out to the freeway. It makes me wish I’d sat in the back with her again. I reach back to hold her hand and the car is suddenly filled with the sounds of an incoming phone call. Christian pushes a finger into the bluetooth. 

“Ros.” 

“Good morning, you brilliant, magnificent, always right when I am wrong, titan amongst mere mortal men… uh… look I’m really bad at grovelling. Can you just accept that that’s what I’m trying to do here so we can move on?” 

Christian laughs. “But I was enjoying it.” 

She groans. “You were right, okay? I’m sorry that I doubted you.” 

“Thank you, but I actually didn’t ask you to call so I could say, ‘I told you so.’ I’m going to have Jacquline release a statement about the fusion project this afternoon and I expect there will be a good deal of press about it over the next few days. I think that’s a good opportunity to re-evaluate our prospects with Gutierrez in Texas.”

“He signed with Gallagher, Christian.” 

“And once I make a phone call to the Department of Financial Services in New York, Gallagher Corporation is going to be in serious danger of losing their telecom licensing. Guitierrez is about to find himself looking for a licensed fiber optics contractor, and I think the media coverage GEH is about to enjoy might just draw his attention.” 

“I guess I could send him some of our updated numbers… I don’t know, it kind of feels like a dirty move, don’t you think? Gallagher isn’t going to just take this lying down.” 

“It is a dirty move. And it’s only my first. If Gallagher has a problem with what’s about to happen, she should have been a little more respectful when she had the opportunity. Get me Gutierrez, Ros. No excuses.” 

“Alright, I’ll reach out to his office and let you know what he says.” 

“Good. Tomorrow, though. I’m unavailable for the rest of the day.” He hangs up the phone and glances back in the mirror, though I think he’s looking at Calliope instead of the traffic. 

“What was that?” I ask. 

“A statement,” he replies easily. “One every person who tried to come for me is about to hear loud and clear.” 

I feel a strong sense of trepidation brewing in my gut, but before I can figure out how to voice my concerns, a more pressing one presents itself. 

“Where are you going?” 

Christian signals, then takes an exit off the freeway he shouldn’t take if he’s trying to get to Calliope’s pediatrician’s office. 

“Dr. Robinson’s office said they couldn’t see her until three,” Christian says, turning again, and now I know exactly where he’s heading. “So I called my mom.” 

A few minutes later, we pull into the parking lot of Seattle Children’s Hospital. I stare at the imposing stone and glass structure and shake my head. “Calliope has a fever, Christian. Your mother is a pediatric surgeon. This place is for children with cancer. Don’t you think this is a little overkill?” 

“Do I ever think anything is overkill?”

“Your mother’s time is valuable.”

“Then it’s a good thing she values Calliope more than her time.”

He gets out of the car and pulls Calliope out of her carseat. I follow him through the automatic doors into the sterile reception area, but we bypass the desk. He walks straight to the surgery floor, then turns a charming smile on the young woman sitting at the nurses station. 

“I’m looking for Dr. Trevelyan-Grey.”

She blinks up at him and flushes a deep scarlet. “Yes, Mr. Grey. She’s expecting you. If you want to take Calliope down to room 201, I’ll have her meet you there.”

“Thank you.” Taking my hand once more, we make our way to the room she mentioned, flip on the lights, and close ourselves inside. Christian takes the chair in the corner. I perch on the exam table, holding Calliope in my lap. 

Both of us use the time to scroll through our emails. I even reply to a less than thrilled one from Carmen, which is a response to the message I sent letting her know I’d be out again today. She seems less confident than Christian was that I’ll be effective working from home. 

“Good morning,” Grace says, sweeping through the door dressed in a white coat and sporting a huge smile on her face. Her eyes immediately zero in on Calliope, and, as she sees the sad look in her eyes and the pink in her cheeks, she gives an overdramatized look of compassion. “My poor baby, do you not feel good?”

 Calliope recedes into me instead of responding. Grace nods and sets about the room, collecting what she needs to take Callie’s vitals. She’s sluggish, so it’s difficult to get her to cooperate with anything. Grace has to check her nose and throat over my shoulder. 

“Oh, I think we’ve found the problem,” she says when she places the tip of her scope into Calliope’s ear and she immediately screams and jerks away. I offer her soothing words, promising her Gigi isn’t going to hurt her. Grace peers through the device into my baby’s ear. “Yeah, she’s got a lot of fluid build up. I’ll take a swab and run it down to the lab, but I think it’s probable that she’s got a middle ear infection.”

“Oh, Calli-Lilly,” I pout, cuddling her close to me. 

“What does that mean for her?” Christian asks. 

“Well, she’s probably in some pain, so I’d get her some baby Tylenol. That’ll also help with her fever. But other than that, it should clear up on its own in a few days.”

“What?” Christian snaps. “Clear up on its own? She has an infection! Don’t you think she needs… antibiotics or something?”

“No, the fluid will drain in a few days and it’ll take the infection with it. If it doesn’t, then we have a bigger problem and we’ll probably have to put in some drainage tubes, but let’s not worry about that until it happens.”

“So you’re telling me that my daughter has a middle ear infection and the best you’re going to give me is, ‘give her baby aspirin’?”

“Tylenol,” Grace corrects him. “She needs acetaminophen for her fever, there’s no acetaminophen in aspirin.”

“The medical professionals in this town, I swear to God.”

“Christian, this is good news,” I tell him. “It means she’s not as sick as we thought.” He’s grumbling to himself, ignoring me. I turn to Grace. “Thank you. I’m sorry we interrupted your day for this.”

“Oh, it is a terrible imposition. But you could pay me back by giving me another grandchild who will get sick and interrupt another one of my very important days.” She smiles, but Christian gives her a severe look. 

“That’s not going to happen.”

Grace frowns at him. “Then I’ll send you my bill.”

“Good.” Chrisitan kisses his mother’s cheeks, then takes Calliope from me, giving her a look that says he’s sorry no one is taking her debilitating disease as seriously as he is. We wait for about 15 minutes until the lab results come back confirming Calliope’s ear infection, then collect the prescription Grace had written out and given to her MA that just says ‘baby TYLENOL’ on it. Christian crumples it in his fist, but puts it in his pocket instead of throwing it away. 

He insists that we stop by a pharmacy on the way home, despite the fact that I have plenty of baby Tylenol at the house. Then he corners a pharmacist and spends five minutes having a serious discussion about the best way to dispense the medicine, dissolvable tablets or a liquid. 

We end up with both. 

Once we get home, Christian immediately gets to work setting things up for Calliope. He makes her a little bed made of blankets, pillows, and couch cushions, then he sets her up with a humidifier and places a lukewarm compress against her ear. He gives her a dose of Tylenol, lies down on the floor next to her, and turns on her favorite cartoons. 

I bring them both a plate of lunch. 

“I need to go get some work done. Can I get you anything?” 

He looks up at me serenely, his hand gently stroking Calliope’s arm, and shakes his head. I frown down at them, because I want nothing more than to be doing exactly what he is. But I missed most of my day yesterday, and the Greenwich Library is a gigantic undertaking that requires tasks to be completed daily in order for it to be ready in time for it’s launch date. So, I lean down and kiss them both, then drag myself to my office.

It’s rough. There’s more than enough in my inbox alone to keep me busy for hours, but I can’t lose myself in it. My mind is completely occupied with Calliope. Trudging through the hours as I separate manuscript prospects, approve previous titles for inclusion in the library, send a few emails back and forth with legal regarding the changes in our contracts, and review shipping manifests for both the printing press and the warehouse, feels like fighting a war. Each task I accomplish just makes me look at everything I still have left to do. Things I wouldn’t get done today regardless of whether or not I was at home. I can feel myself getting overwhelmed, but I manage to calm myself, remind myself of the stakes, and labor through my endless to-do list. 

Eventually, Christian comes to rescue me. 

“It’s six o’clcok,” he says, grabbing the arms of my chair and physically turning me away from my computer. “You’re off the clock.” 

“Okay, I just need to…” 

He silences me with a kiss, refusing to allow any excuses. “It’s six o’clock, Anastasia.” 

“It’s six o’clock,” I agree. Then I pull away from him, log off my profile, and shut down my computer. He smiles at me. 

“I’ve missed you.” 

“Me too. Where’s Calliope?” 

“In bed. Mackensie put her down about forty minutes ago. I was just going to go wake her up for dinner, but I thought I’d come get you first.” He gives me a pointed look. “I knew you’d be the difficult one.” 

“Kensie’s here?” 

He nods. “She moved back in this morning.” 

I squeal and run out to the living room to hug her, but the moment I walk through my office door, I smell the most enticing smell I could imagine and it makes me stop as suddenly as if I hit a brick wall. 

They say you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone, and oh-ho-ho did I not know what I had in Gail until I’d lost her. Every single day has been more overwhelming than the last since she left as I’ve had to face the magnitude of exactly how much she really does for us. 

However much Christian paid her to come back, it isn’t enough. 

The reunion I have with Gail is tearful, as is the reunion I have with her cooking. Actual tears of joy spring to my eyes as I dive into her seared scallops. Christian laughs at me over his glass of wine. 

Having dinner together in our home feels like a rare privilege. We’ve almost forgotten how to work together to feed the baby and ourselves. Each time we bump into one another, or knock something over onto the table trying to get out of the other’s way, we start to laugh. He takes my apparently very clumsy hands in his after I accidentally push down on the serving dish and scorch part of my palm, and brings them to his lips. 

“Better?” he asks, placing one last soft kiss on the already fading red mark. I nod, humming in gratitude. Then we start moving in tandem again, better this time, like taking just a moment to physically connect was all it took to fall right back into our old habits. 

Once dinner is over, Christian carries Calliope to the tub and does most of the work bathing her while I hover over him and enjoy watching them interacting with one another. She’s different tonight, despite the fact that she doesn’t feel well she’s happier and much less resistant. I know that it’s because she’s missed this, having us both here to give her our complete and undivided attention. So when Christian insists he be the one to dress her in her pajamas and then sweeps her into his lap for her bedtime story, my heart feels full beyond capacity again. 

“Hey,”I say, grabbing on to his t-shirt to stop him from walking away after we’ve gotten Calliope to sleep and closed her door behind us. He turns to me, one eyebrow cocked. I move to wrap my arms around his middle. “I love you.” 

He smiles, surprised by my declaration but pleased that I’ve made it. “I love you too.” 

I rise up onto my tiptoes and brush my lips against his, leaving feather soft kisses against his mouth until he finally takes over and pulls me deep into him. We’d talked earlier about maybe cuddling together on the couch and watching a movie tonight, but those plans are quickly abandoned and he walks me back to our bedroom without ever breaking our kiss. 

Once we’re inside, he tosses me on the bed like a ragdoll, an implied warning for me to stay exactly where he’s left me as he turns back to close the door and dim the lights. I sit on my knees and watch him move around the room. My breath catches in my throat when he reaches behind his head and yanks his t-shirt off. 

Even after all these years, he still manages to take my breath away. Every. Single. Time. 

“Get the fuck over here,” I tell him, my voice strained almost as tightly as his pants. He folds his arms over that strong, beautiful chest, and cocks an eyebrow at me. 

“That sounded an awful lot like a demand.” 

“Maybe it was.” 

His eyes flame at me from under hooded lids and the muscles in his arms twitch. It should make me nervous, but it doesn’t. It excites me. Makes me drip for him. Makes me willing to do anything he asks so long as I get my hands on him. 

He licks his lips, unable to conceal his hunger. “Don’t move.” 

A shiver runs through me while I watch him stock off for his closet and I actually feel my clit start to throb. I want to call him back to me, but I know that will only make him take longer. Instead, I strip out of all my clothes and lay back against the pillows, breathing him in while I listen to the ominous sound of leather and metal buckles clinking at me from the closet. For half a second, I almost consider touching myself while I wait. 

“I told you not to move,” Christian’s icy voice calls when he’s stepped out of the closet. I furrow my brow at him.

“I didn’t.” 

“I left you dressed.” He drops a set of restraints on the bed. “I was very much looking forward to peeling every stitch of fabric off of you…”

I swallow and stare at him for a moment, considering my next move. Despite the restraints, I know he intends to make love to me tonight. It’s my decision now if I want to let him follow through with his plans, or if I’d rather coax out the dominant.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have taken so fucking long.” 

Dominant it is.

He’s on me in the next second, his body pinning me to the bed so I can’t move. His hand grabs hold of a fist full of my hair, then he forces me to look in his eyes. 

“You think that smart mouth of yours is going to taunt me into giving you what you want?” he hisses in my ear, the words verging on threatening. The throb in my clit intensifies. “You should know by now that you’re only going to get what I want to give you. What I want to take from you. And I know you fucking love that. No matter how desperate you get for me to make you come, you’d give it up just to please me.” 

I whimper, angling my pelvis to his, trying to get some kind of friction. 

“Say it, Ana.” 

I want to. It’s true, after all. He could force me down on my knees right now and order me to suck his cock, come down my throat, and not touch me for the rest of the night, and I’d still fall asleep feeling accomplished. But I don’t want that. I want his touch. I want his tongue. I want him to fuck me.

“Say it, Ana,” he repeats, his tone harsher this time. 

“Christian, please…” I squirm against him again. “I’ll beg.” 

“I don’t want to hear you beg. I want you to tell me what you really want.” 

It’s a final warning. If I don’t give him what he wants, he’ll spank me next. Although, that just makes me feel like I shouldn’t say it…

“I want to please you, Christian,” I say anyway. “Nothing else matters, just use me.” 

He gives me a wicked smile. “Put your hands over your head.” 

I do, and he reaches down for the restraints, securing each one to my wrists and to the bed. He pulls them so tight that I can’t even adjust the way my arm stretches helplessly over my head. The leather bites into my skin when I try, and it makes my nipples harden. 

“Beautiful,” he says, bending down to flick his tongue around my pebbled flesh. I moan, arching my back to push my breast deeper into his mouth. To my surprise, he doesn’t punish my rapacity. He sucks, hard, against my breast, while his hands move up to firmly kneed the other one. My mouth drops open, the moans turning into silent screams of pleasure. I almost think I could come just like this. 

Then he stops. 

“Wait, no…” I beg. He climbs onto the bed, sliding his knee across the comforter until it’s pressed into my ribs. Then he swings the other over me and leans over to support himself on the headboard. His cock swings heavily, directly in front of my lips. 

“Suck.” 

I comply without hesitation. There’s only so much of him I can take, since I can’t really move, and that makes him start to thrust. I moan around him, looking up at him, and then letting my eyes roll back into my head when he pushes into my throat. He groans and the gentle strokes he’s making in and out of my mouth, suddenly become much more insistent. 

I refuse to let his brutality be the factor behind his orgasm. While he grips my hair and thrusts deep into my throat, I swallow to make it tighter. I move the flat of my tongue around every part of him I can reach. I pull hard on him with my cheeks and with my lips. I feel him stiffen, swollen now to his absolute limit, so I expect him to pull back. 

He doesn’t. 

“I’m going to come,” he warns me. “Swallow.” 

I can only hum my response and pull as much of him into my mouth as I can manage without breaking my restraints. It’s enough, because he calls out a strangled version of my name, and I feel him explode in a salty surge down my throat. Once he’s empty, he thrusts a few more times. Slower. More shallow. Then he pulls out, moves down the bed, and yanks my legs open with a kind of rude indifference that tells me he’s the one in control. 

I can’t help it. The display of ownership has me burning with need for him. So the second his tongue slides across my clit, I come apart. It’s intense, weeks worth of missed connection and unreleased desire compounding the pleasure until my entire body trembles and I’m screaming his name. One long arm reaches up my body, his hand moving up to silence me while his mouth continues to devour me. The second I come down, he starts building me towards my second orgasm. It hits just as hard as the first and I end up thrashing so violently against my restraints, his hand slips and I accidentally bite down on his finger. 

“Fuck, Ana!” he rasps, pulling away and then slamming his cock into me as I ride the final waves of my orgasm. He grunts, fighting against the pulses of my inner walls that try to push him out. Forcing himself in anyway.

“Yes!” I cry out. “Oh, god! That’s so good!” 

“Quiet,” he warns, his mouth licking and sucking at mine between words. “You’ll wake the baby.” 

I press my lips together, so hard my teeth are digging into them from the inside, and choke down my screams. 

“Good girl,” he praises me. The angle changes slightly as he pushes my knees up into my breasts and opens me more to him. Again, I force a deep, pleasure induced sob back down. “Can you take more and stay quiet?” 

I nod and he thrusts harder. 

“More?” he growls again. I close my eyes, wrap my fingers around the leather restraints, and nod again. 

It’s harder to hold back once he really lets himself go. The dirty words he whispers in my ear and the punishing rhythm he uses to pound in and out of me all have me so hot, I feel like I could combust. 

When I do, my orgasm sparks deep in my gut and explodes through my entire body like fireworks. He once again brings his mouth to mine. With his lips muffling the sounds of my cries, I let them go. I don’t even try to hold back, and it has him thrusting into me so hard there’s a worrying creak coming from the frame of our bed. 

He looks up at the headboard, taking his lips from mine, and I have to bite down on his shoulder to keep myself from screaming again. He hisses in pain, but it makes him start to thrust more urgently. His eyes are strained as he stares down into mine. Then every part of him tightens and the low but guttural sounds that force their way out from deep inside his chest make me feel like the sexiest woman alive. When he comes, I feel it fill me with surprising force. I wrap my legs around him, holding him inside of me, making sure he gives me all of it. 

Maybe I am greedy tonight. 

We lie there for a long time. Our breathing slows, and our heart rates return to normal. He doesn’t roll off of me. He nuzzles me, leaves soft kisses against the skin of my throat. 

“Christian?” 

“Hm?” he hums, his content obvious. 

“Can I have my hands back?” 

“Oh, sorry…” He gives me a guilty look as he reaches up and releases the restraints. There are angry looking marks on each of my wrists, which he kisses tenderly before I wrap my arms around him. 

“God, this feels good,” he says, and I laugh.

“Well, I should hope so…” 

“No, not that.” He rolls his eyes. “Though, also that… But I mean just being here with you. Seeing Calliope during the day, getting to spend time with her while she’s awake… it feels so fucking good.” 

“I know. It feels good to have you home too.” 

“And I am home. Until Calliope is ready to go back to daycare. I’ll stay home with her so you can focus on your project.”

My face morphs with shock. “Really? You will?” 

“You did it for me.” 

I bite my lip, the gratitude and love swelling in my chest warring with one another so the victor can tumble out of me and land on Christian. I don’t wait to see which wins out, I release them both by molding my lips to his and whispering, “thank you,” over and over again. 

He grins against my mouth and wags his eyebrows at me. 

“Don’t thank me yet…” he says, then he starts to move down my body again. 

Next Chapter

I wake up Monday morning with Christian’s head between my thighs. His tongue caresses my clit with long, velvety strokes that send tingles down my legs. His lips close, he starts to suck, and I see stars. I make a deep, throaty sound that I wouldn’t think could ever be considered sexy, but it drives him wild. He feeds on me like I’m dripping nectar so sweet, it’s not meant for mortal man, and he’s somehow cheated the gods. I reach down and twist my fingers into his hair and push up to encourage his mouth. 

“Just like that, just like that…” A finger breaks through my lower lips, massaging that perfect spot inside of me until I’m panting his name. A second finger joins the first and my legs start to shake. 

“That’s right,” Christian growls against me. “Tremble for me.” 

“I’m about to come for you,” I breathe back. I can feel it coming and I know it’ll hit me hard. Even the foreshock feels like enough to swallow me the way nighttime swallows dusk. My back arches high off the bed and I squirm, trying to pull back from his intensity. His hands lock down on my hips to hold me in place. He adds a third finger and starts fucking me in earnest, keeping pace with his tongue on my clit. 

I half-sob when my orgasm finally overwhelms me. It rips through me so intensely, for a few moments I think the fireworks bursting before my eyes might actually be the start of the bright white light that will lead me into the afterlife. Christian continues to lap at me, kiss me, ease me down from the pleasure after drawing it out longer than should have been humanly possible. When the last shudder works its way from my system, he moves up my body and claims my mouth. 

“Happy anniversary,” he says, a heady cocktail of want and adoration swimming in his eyes. 

“I’ll say.” I grab his face and kiss him hard, purposefully dragging my tongue over his chin to clean away the last of my release from his skin. It’s smoother than I expect… has he already shaved?

“None of that,” he chides me, though his tone actually tells me what he wants is much much more of that. He pulls away and I notice for the first time that he’s already completely dressed. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I have an early meeting, remember?” 

“And you didn’t plan in time for… for…” My cheeks pink and he chuckles. 

“No. But I was watching you sleep while I was getting ready to leave and I decided that I just couldn’t start the day without making you come first.” He rolls off the bed and straightens his tie, looking very pleased with himself. “Have lunch with me this afternoon.” 

I frown. He can’t really be leaving, can he?

“Don’t you want some kind of reciprocation?” 

“Why do you think I asked you to lunch?” I can tell by his grin that he’s joking, but I’m not. He’s going to work me up like that and then leave without even giving me a taste of his cock? It’s a bum deal. 

“I want you now.” My eyes lock with his and I make a big show of rubbing my thighs together under the sheets. His grin disappears, changing instead to something darker. Something hotter. 

“Later,” he promises. “I’ll make you come until you can’t stand it anymore.” 

“Empty promises. Actions speak louder than words, you know.” 

He laughs, but the sound cuts off as his phone starts to ring. “Good luck with your presentation this morning, Ana. I knew you’d figure this out and even I’m floored by what you’ve come up with. Carmen Gallagher won’t know what hit her.” 

“I hope you’re right.” 

He winks as he answers the phone, then his eyes hold mine intently for a long moment, reiterating the promise he’d made me about lunch earlier. “I’m on my way, Ros. Twenty minutes.” 

He disappears through the doorway, and I glare at the emptiness he leaves behind. It’s not that much earlier than when I normally wake up, so there’s not really any point in trying to go back to sleep. But I’m definitely not ready to get up, shower, and obsess over everything that could go wrong with the presentation I have to give to the entire staff today. So, instead, I reach over for my phone, call Christian’s direct line at his office, and masturbate into his voicemail. I describe every single thing I’m doing and thinking about in graphic detail until I scream his name through the phone. 

Let’s see if he regrets leaving me this morning after hearing that. 

Grace stops by and collects Calliope before I’ve even have a chance to blowdry my hair. My sleepy girl cuddles around her grandma when she lifts her out of the crib, and Grace practically becomes a puddle on the floor. 

“If you and Chrisitan decide you need more than one night, you let me know,” she says, quietly so she doesn’t wake Calliope. My face brightens with appreciation, even though I know the offer is really a selfish one. 

“Thank you, but I think tonight is just about all I’ll be able to stand to be away from her.” 

Because otherwise I’ll just be alone. 

I think Grace sees the thought flash through my eyes, because she shakes her head and places a gentle hand on my arm. “You’re both working too hard.” 

That isn’t true. Okay, so I spend nearly every waking second obsessing over whether or not my latest idea will be enough to float the entire company long enough for me to find the best-seller The Black Rose was supposed to be, and I’ve taken to reading manuscripts in the car, and trolling online writing forums on my phone while I’m in the bathroom… Maybe I’ve wished more than one time that I could dream my way through my work while I slept so I wouldn’t lose so much time out of every day…

But Christian spends more time at GEH nowadays than he does at home. 

I don’t want to argue about any of that with Grace, though, so I simply accept her words with a chastened nod and walk her out. 

“When are we headed out, boss?” Luke asks, stepping out of the security office the moment I’ve closed the door behind Grace. His eyes look at my still damp hair and the robe tied at my waist. “I’m going to guess it’s gonna be awhile.” 

“I’ll be fast. Do you want breakfast before we go or do you wanna get a bagel and coffee on the way?” 

He rolls his eyes. “As if you have any say in what’s going to happen to you for the rest of the day.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” I put my hands on my hips, planning to fight him if he’s going to go full CPO-mode on me. He gives me a look in return that tells me I’m missing something that should be obvious. 

“It’s your anniversary, Ana. Your first one. I know both you and Grey are dealing with some serious shit at work, bad enough that he didn’t even take the day to be with you. But if you think he hasn’t set up an entire day’s worth of stuff for you to melt and fawn over until he can get to you, then I feel like you don’t actually know your husband at all, and your entire marriage is a sham.” 

I ignore that last part because now that he’s mentioned it, it’s ridiculous that I would expect anything less from the amazing man I should have fought harder to keep in my bed this morning. Instead, I zero in on two specific words. 

“Melt and fawn, huh?” My smile stretches to its limits when he nods. 

“You wouldn’t believe the amount of sappy, romantic shit waiting for you. Honestly, it’s nauseating.”

My breath catches in surprise at his statement and then my gut clenches painfully as I realize the reason why. He’s going to have to follow me around all day, having the love Chrisitan and I feel for one another shoved in his face over and over again, all while he’s still nursing a broken heart. 

“If you’re uncomfortable, Luke, I can manage without you for a day. I know you’re still hurting over Jade.” 

He grimaces. “You’re not going into the city without security. Absolutely not.” 

Well, duh. “No, but I can call Taylor.”  

“Ouch.” He pulls his hand up to his chest and takes a step back. “Am I really so easily replaced for you, Anastasia?” 

I shove him in exasperation, but laugh when he starts to. “I think we’ve proved over and over again that you are irreplaceable, Luke Sawyer. But I care about your feelings and I don’t want to see you in pain.” 

“Then you should know that there is no place I’d rather be than with you.” He gives me a yeah-that’s-right-now-don’t-you-feel-terrible-for-trying-to-send-me-away look and takes a step out of my reach. “Because making fun of you every single time you cry is going to be the highlight of my day.” 

He expects a huffy reaction, but I simply shrug. “Have at it. Knowing Christian, I’ll be too busy glowing to notice.” 

“Ugh, you’re already gross.” 

I flash him another smile. “Twenty minutes and I’ll be ready to go.” 

My first surprise is a playlist of songs Christian has made for me to listen to on my way to work. The note Luke hands me tells me that each song is one that makes him think of me. As we pull out of the driveway and the car fills with music, a smile sets on my face and doesn’t move for the entire drive. Some of the songs I know the meaning of the second I hear them. Like, At Last, the song we danced to at our wedding. Others, I can only guess at their significance by listening carefully to the lyrics. There are even a few songs in French that are a mystery to me altogether, except that I can hear the intent behind the sweet lilt in each artist’s voice. 

We are welcomed into the parking garage next to GSP by the final bars of Journey’s, Faithfully, and I’m swimming in tears. 

“Don’t break now, Steele,” Luke teases me. “You’re not even inside yet.” I reach up and dab the corners of my eyes, still unable to wipe the smile from my face. 

“Ugh, he would do this to me on the day I have to give a career making presentation to make.” 

“Romance or corporate sabotage? Christian Grey can do both.” We both laugh and it continues all the way into my office. 

“Good morning, Ana,” Abby greets me. “Happy Anniversary!” 

“Thank you. Any messages?” 

“Yes, your husband’s office called to schedule a 12:30 lunch and Ms. Gallagher confirmed she will be on today’s call with the New York team.”

I suck in a sharp breath through my nose. It’s good news, necessary actually, but that doesn’t alleviate any of my nerves. 

She wanted something radical…

“Confirm lunch with Christian,” I tell her. “I’ve got a few things left to finish before our meeting later this morning. Hold my calls until then. Unless it’s Carmen… or Christian.” 

“Sure thing, Ana.” She smiles, then turns on her heel and walks back to reception while I continue on to my office. There’s a giant bouquet waiting for me on my desk. I saunter towards it, searching through the deep red petals for a card. As I pluck it out, I bury my nose into the fragrant petals. They smell incredible.

I don’t know what you’re wearing, but I know you look absolutely beautiful this morning.

I love you

Christian  

I smile down at the words, my heart fluttering wildly. I wish desperately that he was close enough right then for me to kiss, or maybe even to drag to the nearest flat surface where I could take from him what he denied me this morning. 

My eyes move to the clock on the wall. 08:56, a long way off from 12:30. But not long enough until my meeting. With one last deep inhale of the flowers, I settle down in my chair. As has become usual since I’ve taken on the New York branch, my inbox is overflowing with manuscripts from my editors looking for approval. I ignore all of them.

There are a few emails that need my attention right away, but it doesn’t take me long to work through everything that’s important. I’m just about to close out of my email altogether when I notice one from Christian buried in between two from the New York office, early this morning. 

---

From: Christian Grey

Date: July 23rd 2012  07:58 AM

Subject: Lewd Voicemails

To: Anastasia Grey

I am going into a meeting and I’m hard. You should expect to be spending a good amount of time this afternoon over my knee to make up for it. And once I’m finished with that gorgeous ass of yours, I’m going to lay you over my desk and fucking worship you.

Christian Grey

Sexually Frustrated and Painfully Erect CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings

---

From: Anastasia Grey

Date: July 23rd 2012

Subject: Unexpected Wonders

To: Christian Grey

Well, I’ve spent the morning crying over all the amazingly sweet things you’ve done for me. And I think the roses on my desk are very closely verging on a gift, despite a very specific agreement between you and I that we wouldn’t be doing that this year…

Anastasia Grey

Completely Wooed Editor-In-Chief, Greenwich Small Press

---

“Hey, Ana,” Abby says, poking her head in the door. “You’ve got a delivery.”

“Oh?” She opens the door further and holds up another absolutely stunning bouquet of flowers. Peonies this time, in my favorite shade of soft pink. Abby places them next to the roses on my desk and beams. 

“The roses got here at eight, same time as me. I bet you’re going to get a new delivery every hour, on the hour!” 

“Sounds like something he would do.” I can’t help but smile, even as I shake my head at the absolutely ridiculousness of the man I married exactly one year ago today. Abby backs out of my office again, leaving me punch drunk and floating. 

I need to focus, but when I look back at my email, there’s a response from Christian waiting. 

---

From: Christian Grey

Date: July 23rd 2012  09:04 AM

Subject: Reparations, choose your own adventure.

To: Anastasia Grey

Let’s agree to call it even. Or better yet, let me make it up to you over, and over, and over…

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings

---

I want to rejoice in his good mood, spend my morning bantering with him and basking in his attention since he’s been so distracted lately. But he’s busy and I’ve got a lot of work to get done in the next hour. As much as it kills me, I don’t reply to the email. Instead, I turn my attention to the documents I’d been working on the night before and let myself completely check out of everything else.

When it’s finally time for me to make my way to the conference room, I find my team has already assembled there. I haven’t had the chance to see any of them yet this morning, so we start off with a few pleasantries and share details of our weekends. I’m just about to dial in to the New York office when I’m stopped by an unexpected knock on the door. 

I look up and see Olivia, Christian’s receptionist, standing there.

“I’m looking for a…” She looks at a piece of paper in her hand. “Anastasia Grey?” 

I tilt my head as I blink back at her, confused by how unnatural my name sounds rolling off her tongue. Like she’s never said it before. “Yes?” 

She nods, turns around, and disappears for a few seconds, then returns with boxes of doughnuts and coffee. The good kind, from the fancy bakery up the street. My confusion deepens, so Olivia holds the sheet of paper she’d read my name off of earlier. 

“Your receipt, Mrs. Grey.” 

Except it isn’t a receipt at all. It’s a note written in an immediately recognizable handwriting. 

It never hurts to get them on your side before proposing something big. Well fed people are generally more amenable people. 

Now go knock ‘em fucking dead.

I believe in you, too.

My heartbeat quickens with yet another dose of love as I glance around the table and get several grateful looks from my employees diving into the doughnuts. Even Stevens looks not-irritated with me as he takes a welcome sip of coffee. 

Well, fuck. If I knew it would be this easy to win them over, I would have brought breakfast with me every morning.

Touche, Mr. Grey.

“Thank you,” I tell Olivia, and she winks at me before hurrying out of the room. I reach down and dial the conference call number for New York. The other team pops up on the TV screen mounted to the wall, and, again, we’re met with warm greetings of welcome. It’s strange because the two branches have very little interaction with one another, so no one is really familiar enough with each other for me to expect such openly friendly attitudes in a professional setting. But Carmen is on the call, and I think several of my employees might be a little overzealous in their attempts to impress her. 

“Alright, let’s get any outstanding items from the frontlist out of the way. We’ll start with Seattle.”

It’s a short discussion since the only titles we currently have to talk about are the ones that were already in production before Carmen gave me one last big release. Even after working through a marketing issue with one of my employees in New York, only the first twenty minutes of our hour long meeting have passed. It gives me plenty of time to present my idea to the team, and talk it out with them once the questions and doubts start. Unfortunately, the butterflies in my stomach have turned to bats. 

“Our next item for discussion is a big one, and I don’t want any of you to panic when I say what I’m about to say.” Eight people shift uncomfortably in their seats around me. I take a breath and brace myself. “I want to shut down the New York printing press.” 

“What!” The roar comes from the TV speakers. The only reaction I get from the people in the room with me are blank stares and open mouths. 

“I said don’t panic,” I repeat, keeping my voice light and confident. Not like I’ve said something that probably has half my team thinking they’re losing their jobs. I clear that up first. “No one is losing their job. New York will simply be stopping all production on print media.” 

The idea came to me over the weekend when Luke and I were hanging out, scrolling through Netflix, and he’d noticed a show he liked had a new season come out and he’d missed it. I listened to him grumble about how they should have some kind of subscription service to follow certain shows, like a YouTube channel. Once I reminded him that Netflix was a subscription service, it hit me. I didn’t need to move 50,000 units with one title, I needed to come up with something that would continuously bring in revenue that was equivalent to 50,000 units. Netflix only releases a few titles a year, only updates their library once a month, and yet they float because their customers pay a monthly subscription fee. They don’t purchase the product directly. 

From there, my mind immediately went to the technology I’d developed for Grey Publishing two years earlier. A lot of their success has been their ability to cut overhead costs and reach a wider audience by pushing ebook sales through their tablet. Greenwich has an app of their own, a weak attempt by Carmen to respond to GP’s success, but it’s clunky and doesn’t have half the features or functionality that the Grey device does. 

Carmen doesn’t have Welch. 

The two ideas combined into one massive undertaking. “The Greenwich Library,” I tell my team, clicking the button on the remote to pop a presentation out from the faces of the New York office on the monitor. 

“It would be its own entity under the Greenwich Small Press umbrella, contained entirely within the New York office. Contracts would be different, royalties would pay differently, standards for publication would be… relaxed, but the consumer would have access to all of it, at all times, for the price of little more than a single ebook purchase. The library would update monthly at first, then weekly. It would be the New York office’s responsibility to publish that content.”

I move through the slides of my presentation that show data on ebook sales, and how those projected sales would affect our bottom line if even 3% of our customer base signed up for the service. “We’d have the ability to add classic titles that are no longer protected under copyright. In the future, there’s the possibility of specific sub-subscriptions. Book clubs, themed collection releases, textbooks… This gives us the opportunity to grow in a way we would never be able to if we stay tethered to the printing press.” 

Carmen cringes slightly when I pull up the financial plan, which breaks down how much it will cost to make this a reality and market it well enough to make it a success. But she doesn’t get up and walk out. That has to count for something, right? 

The question phase of the meeting is brutal. I’ve prepared, knowing how much this was going to scare everyone, but there’s only so much I can give them. I don’t have concrete data because this is unchartered territory. 

“Then how do you even know it will work?” a disgruntled woman from New York asks. I think her name is Margaret. 

“I don’t. I’ve just…” I pause, trying to explain why I am so certain this is the way forward. I end up quoting Christian. “It’s a feeling.” 

No one else says anything, so every pair of eyes, both here in Seattle with me, and in the room in New York, move to Carmen. 

“I want to hear more from the team,” she says. “Will it work?” 

Someone was going to have to come forward and express faith in me, and that made my heart heavy. Every step of the way my staff has fought my methods. I wasn’t going to hold my breath that any of them believed I could successfully change our entire business model. 

“I think it’s brilliant,” a voice in the room with me says. “It’s a good compromise between the volume our reader base has come to expect and the limitations of our press that make that model impossible. Honestly, it sounds to me like Ana has solved the problem that Scott never could.” 

It’s Stevens, the last person in the world I would ever expect to say something. And he’s only the first. 

“Ana was dead-on last time when she said we needed to change,” Jacki adds. “She was the only one who said The Black Rose wasn’t the best-seller we were looking for, and it was only because of her foresight that we survived that disaster. I trust her judgement.” 

“Me too.” 

“Me too.” 

The sentiment is repeated around the room like an outloud game of telephone that leaves me speechless. 

Thankfully, Carmen is the next to speak, so I don’t have to. “Then it sounds like this team has a lot of work ahead of them.” She gets up, straightening her skirt. “Ana, you’ll let me know what support you need from me, and we’ll come up with some timelines once you have everything ready?”

“Yeah,” I manage to say without completely losing my professional demeanor. “Thank-you, Carmen.” 

“I don’t want thanks, I want results. And don’t think this changes my expectations for a 50,000 copy release, Anastasia. That wasn’t a test for GSP, that was a test for you.” She opens the door and leaves me alone with my team. I try to ignore the dazed shock I feel at her parting words, and instead spend the next hour and a half brainstorming and assigning team roles. There are vendors I need to contact before we can get any further, so once everyone has a place to start, I end the meeting and walk back into the main office feeling ten feet tall. A feeling that is only made stronger when I see the two bouquet deliveries I’d missed during our meeting. 

“These wildflowers are incredible,” Abby says, twisting the cerulean colored vase in her hands while I pick up the Calla Lilies.

“Keep them here,” I offer, looking at the counter in front of her desk.

“Really?” 

“Sure.  I’m running low on space in my office anyway. “ She smiles and starts rearranging the reception desk to make room for the vase just as Luke starts towards me. 

“Your ride’s downstairs,” he says. I raise a confused eyebrow at him, but it doesn’t make him elaborate. In fact, he places his hand on my elbow and steers me to the door without saying another word. 

“I’ll be back in an hour, Abby. I need the number for that developer by the time I get back.” 

I’m out the door and almost in the elevator by the time I get my instructions out, so I don’t hear her confirmation. Faith is what carries me out of the building, where Taylor is waiting on the curb with the Maybach. 

“Mrs. Grey,” he greets me warmly, and the elation I feel from everything that’s happened  today is apparent in every syllable of my response. 

“Good afternoon, Taylor.” I slide into the back of the Maybach and find a note on the seat with a single red rose. 

Enjoy the show.

-Christian

I frown down at it, wondering if I’m not actually going to get to spend any time with him this afternoon. But as the car pulls away, the screen mounted on the back of the driver’s seat comes on and starts to play a video. My smile widens past the point that makes my cheeks ache when I see that it’s pictures and video clips from our wedding, set to the song I’d walked down the aisle to. Most of this must have come from Mia, because I haven’t seen any of it before. The song ends while we pull into the garage at GEH, and the video changes again. This time, to Christian standing with his father near the cliffside we were married on. Elliot’s voice is the first I hear, so he must be behind the camera. 

“She’s about to walk down here. You nervous there, bigshot?”

Christian turns to the camera with that smile he has that makes him the most beautiful man in the world. “What’s there to be nervous about? Happily ever after?” 

Next Chapter

“Maybe she…” 

“She isn’t.” 

“Well, what if she…?”

“She doesn’t.”

“But she could…” 

“She won’t.” 

I frown at Luke from the passenger’s seat. The traffic is heavier than normal because of an accident on 2nd Ave, so we’re stuck behind a long line of bright red taillights and angry horns. Luke stares through the windshield, irritated, cursing under his breath about the idiot in front of us. I know it’s not the traffic that’s bothering him.

“I’m just saying that when Christian and I broke up, I thought I’d never want to be with him again, and we’re celebrating our one year wedding anniversary next week. Look at Kate and Elliot!” 

“Yeah, the problem is that you and Kate never actually changed your minds. You never fell out of love with Grey.” 

“She fell out of love with you? She said that?”

He lets out a long breath. “It doesn’t matter what she said, it’s over. I don’t even care.” 

“Luke…” 

“You should be happy.” He turns to me, a wide grin masking the emptiness in his eyes. “The gang’s back together again.” 

“Well, of course I’m glad you’re back, but I don’t need you to put on a brave face for me. You said you loved her. Don’t you want me to like… I don’t know, cuddle with you all night and tell you how pretty you are while you cry all over me? I could bring chocolate ice cream and cookie dough.”

He laughs. “Could you imagine telling your husband that you weren’t coming to bed with him because you needed to come cuddle with me?” 

“He didn’t mind when I did it with Kate.” 

“You were already in Cambridge when Kate and Elliot broke up. And Kate and I are not equal best friends in the eyes of the law.” 

“I know, I know… you’re my actual best friend.” 

“Damn right.” He gives me a side smile, but as he turns his attention back to the traffic, his good mood fades again and I watch his blue eyes suddenly go hollow. 

“Luke, what can I do?” 

“Drop it.” 

I slump back into my seat, feeling guilt seep into every one of my pores. Luke only lost Jade because he was forced into a choice between me or her, and I wasn’t even the one he wanted to choose.

“It’s not your fault, Ana,” he tells me, as if he can read my mind.

“I don’t know if that’s true.” 

“Then fine, it’s your fault.” I turn a pained look on him. He grins back. “Nope, you’ve ruined any shot I have at future happiness. I guess you really owe me one, Steele.” 

“Yeah.” I turn back and stare solemnly out my window as we finally start to move again. “Tell me something I don’t already know.” 

He flips the turn signal to merge over to the parking garage next to my building. “Can I tell you something, though? For real?” 

“What?” 

“It’s killing me. But having something to move on to is a lot. You’re not just my job, you’re not just my best friend. You’re the home I can always go back to when I feel like I have nothing left. So, thank you.” 

I reach across the space between us, and squeeze his arm. “You don’t have to thank me. We’re family, Luke. Family is forever.” 

He smiles, then starts to shake his head. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I love you, you love me. Let’s talk about sports or something.” 

I laugh. He pulls into a parking place, then takes my bags before we head to the elevators. 

I’m in a great mood getting into the office. Not just because Luke is back, but because, for the first time in a long time, I have good news to share at our weekly staff meeting. I’m actually a little giddy as I collect everything I need to get started. Just one last look at my email before I head out…

---

From: Chrisitan Grey

Subject: Problematic Distractions

Date: July 16th 2012  08:49 AM

To: Anastasia Grey

I’ve been trying to read this proposal in front of me for almost twenty minutes, but I can’t absorb any of it because I can’t stop thinking about how beautiful you looked this morning. I should have dragged you from Calliope’s daycare to my office. 

What a shame.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings

---

I type a hurried response. 

---

From: Anastasia Grey

Subject: Loose Jargon

Date: July 16th 2012  09:10 AM

To: Christian Grey

So I’m ‘problematic,’ huh?

Anastasia Grey

Editor-in-Chief, Greenwich Small Press

---

With a smirk, I hit send and reach over to pull my freshly printed agendas out of the printer cartridge. Christian’s response comes just as I’m closing down my computer. 

---

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Problems

Date: July 16th 2012   09:11 AM

To: Anastasia Grey

Only if I’m going to save my company. 

Have lunch with me this afternoon. 

Chrisitan Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings

---

From: Anastasia Grey

Subject: Hot Commodity

Date: July 16th 2012   09:13 AM

To: Christian Grey

Can’t. I’ve heard rumors GP is chasing a hot new prospective author. I couldn’t let the competition just walk away with a potential best-seller, now could I?”

Anastaisa Grey

Editor-in-Chief, Greenwich Small Press

---

Piling everything in my arms, I scurry off for my meeting. I’m the last to arrive, which I hate, but part of me can’t stop smiling either. Christian’s email banter is like a homing beacon, drawing me back to him.  

I’ve missed that kind of back and forth between us. I haven’t seen much of his playful side since the end of the fusion project. Actually, I haven’t seen much of anything except the CEO.

Not even the dominant…

I settle down at the head of the long table in the conference room, smiling up at my team. Before I can even start though, Stevens stands so that the entire room turns their attention to him. 

“Did you make a decision on the Hawkins manuscript I sent you on Friday?” 

“I haven’t read it,” I reply, patiently. He gives me the exact bitter look I expect.

“You haven’t approved one of my manuscripts in nearly six weeks. I’ve tried attacking this from all angles, and given you a little bit of everything. What are you looking for?” 

I pause, the corners of my mouth creeping up into a smile. “Do you want to tell them, Jacki?” 

She blushes. “I uh… I found a piece that Ana approved.” 

My entire staff reacts, most faces going blank with shock, a few eyes widening with excitement. 

“She’s underselling it,” I say proudly. “I started it Saturday morning and I was on the phone with the author’s agent that night to schedule a meeting. Jacki and I are having lunch with him this afternoon to try and get him to sign with us.” 

“Try?” Stevens raises an eyebrow. 

“He has other offers. At least two other publishing houses.” 

“Grey Publishing?” Roger, the man who’d made his suspicions about my connections to GP known on day one, looks at me with apprehension. 

“Yes,” I reply, purposely ensuring my voice holds the exact same amount of confidence as before. The nervous glances around the table tell me my team doesn’t feel the same. 

“We’ve never been able to poach an author from GP. Elizabeth Morgan has basically unlimited resources to invest in her authors. Your… er… husband gives her anything she asks for.” 

Sometimes, the competition between Christian and I can be fun. Sometimes, it makes my mouth taste like bile. 

“Well, I doubt she’s going to get much out of him right now.” My tone is brisk, a warning that any further conversation about Chrisitan will lead them into something treacherous. They seem to get the message because when I move on to review the latest sales reports, no one says a word.

Once my meeting ends, I do the same thing via video call with the New York office. Now that I have a prospect for our next big release, one that I think will actually meet Carmen’s impossible demands for 50,000 units, I’m willing to ease the reins on the New York press a little. There’s a coffee table book I think will sell well this fall, so with maybe too much hope, I give the release my approval.

I only have a few minutes once my meetings end before Jacki and I need to leave for our lunch. I stop by her desk before we head out to give her a pep-talk.

“You ready?” 

“I don’t know. I think so.” She looks a little green. “I’d feel better if I didn’t feel like the entire future of the company was basically riding on us convincing him to sign. Rodger wasn’t wrong. We’ve never beat GP on a signing. Not even close.” 

“Don’t worry about any of that. You have had incredible success this year. He would be lucky to have you representing his work. We just need to make him see that, which…” I hold up a folder filled with the data I compiled from Jacki’s last release. “You can leave to me.” 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Ana.” 

“Oh, you’d be fucked.” I smile, then I gesture for her to lead the way to the door. Luke is there waiting for us and between the two of us, we get Jacki so hyped that by the time we pull up to the restaurant, she’s almost forgotten that failure is even a possibility. It makes me radiate with happiness, which I direct straight at Luke. Once again, I’m reminded that he’s not just a hired bodyguard. He’s my partner in crime. 

The restaurant where I’m taking Lyonel Pierce, our potential new author, is the kind I had to drop Christian’s name at in order to get a reservation. It’s not the typical kind of place we’d meet with authors, but I’m desperate for this signing and I’m pulling out all of the stops. Even if that means dipping into my own pocketbook to make it happen…

The host leads us to a semi-private table near the back that sits in front of huge windows that provide scenic views of the sound. We’re the first to arrive, so I order wine for the table, because it’s what Christian would do. I even order a bottle I’ve seen in his private stores down in my cellar. It arrives at the same time as Lyonel and his agent, Collin Bennett.

“Collin!” I greet him with warm familiarity, as though we are old friends. I’ve never actually met him in my life, but I figure it can’t hurt to try and jump ahead a few steps in our working relationships, considering the other two Seattle publishing houses have a head start. 

“Anastasia,” he replies. Where I may be too familiar, my name sounds awkward and unnatural coming from his lips. Lyonel seems to notice. 

“You’ve met before?” 

“We spoke on the phone.” I give him my most dazzling smile and motion for him to sit down. He does and the waiter begins to fill his glass with the wine I’ve selected. I order appetizers and try to keep the conversation fun and casual all the way up until our entrees arrive. 

When the time finally comes for us to make our pitch, Jacki and I work flawlessly with one another. She reassures him of the process, I spell out all of the resources we’re able to provide in support. She tells him how hard she’ll work for him, I offer the numbers that back up her claims. By the time we’re finished, his agent looks intrigued. Lyonel is unreadable. 

“Well, what do you think?” Collin asks, his attention zeroed in on only his client.

“It all sounds great,” he says. “But… I looked into your company a little bit and your last release vastly underperformed. I read that you had cancelled one of your authors’ second options because you were having some financial problems. Is that something that could happen to me if I were to sign with you?” 

Jacki’s mouth thins so much, it isn’t even visible anymore. I offer him a reassuring smile. 

“There are never any guarantees. But I have absolutely every hope, every reason to believe that you are going to be a huge success. You do this with us, you give us your full commitment to making this release as loud as it can be, and we’ll take care of you.” 

He frowns, contemplating. I can see the decision rolling around in his brain behind his eyes. But just as I’m about to close the deal, I’m interrupted by a very embarrassed looking restaurant manager. 

“Excuse me, Mrs. Grey. I’m afraid your credit card has been declined.” 

I blink. “That’s impossible.” 

“I’m very sorry, but we’ve tried it three times.” 

He hands back my American Express, and I stare down at it in confusion. How could it possibly be declined? It doesn’t even have a limit… 

“Do you have another form of payment?” 

“Uh…” I reach for my purse, catching the uneasy glances Lyonel shoots at Collin. It makes the empty card slots in my wallet feel like open wounds. 

Fuck!

“Here,” Luke says from across the table, reaching into his wallet for his own credit card. A strange mixture of gratitude and shame flashes like a shock of heat over my skin. Privately, I give him a look that tells him that I’m not going to leave him on the hook for this. 

The bottle of wine I ordered was $1,500 alone.

“So,” I start again, stumbling slightly as I try to regain my bearings. “What do you say, Lyonel? Are you willing to take this chance with us?” 

He takes a deep breath, his fingers nervously toying with the napkin in front of him.

“I need to think about it,” he says at last. “Review my options.” 

My stomach drops as if he said no. My intuition tells me he did. I try to summon words, any coherent words to offer him, even just to stall. But the only thing I can think of is the coffee table book I approved earlier that morning. 

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Lyonel gets up from the table and I walk him all the way to his car, making appeals the entire way. I’m trying to keep the increasingly urgent desperation I feel from leaking into my voice, but lyonel’s reaction makes me think that maybe it does. 

“Thank-you, Mrs. Grey,” he says, reaching out to shake my hand before he climbs into his car. “I’ll be in touch.” 

“I look forward to it,” I say weakly. The car pulls away, and the reality of what just slipped through my fingers hits me like a bucket of ice cold water. 

“Come on,” Luke says, coming up behind me and rubbing the goosebumps from my arms. “Let’s go back and you can figure out how you’re going to fix this.” 

I don’t go back to the office. I can’t face my employees until I once again come up with a plan to trudge forward. So, once I drop Jacki off at GSP, I stop by GEH to pick up Calliope and Kensie, and the four of us head home. 

Strangely, the house is empty when we arrive, and Gail didn’t leave a note to say where she’d gone, or if she’d be back to prepare dinner. I send her a text to find out as Kensie sets Calliope up on the floor with enough activities to keep her from wandering too much, but there’s no answer. 

Luke spreads out on the couch, and turns on the TV. I take a seat next to my baby, far enough away that she doesn’t take an interest in the stacks of papers I lay out on the coffee table, close enough that I can tickle her with my toes every time she does something so adorable that I can’t let it slide without giving her some kind of affection. It happens enough that, before I know it, I’m sprawled out on my back, holding her over me, bouncing her just enough to make her giggle. All of my worries and stress from the day seem to wash off me with the sound of her laughter. I glance up to see if Luke is as engrossed in the sound as I am, but he’s not looking at us. He’s frowning down at his phone.

“Problem?” I ask, sitting up and caging Calliope inside my arms and legs.

He shakes his head, and I see the brief flash of pain break through the mask he’s worn all day. 

“Is it Jade?” 

“No.” His voice is quiet, almost a whisper. “In fact, it isn’t Jade. I texted her this morning. She hasn’t responded.” 

“Maybe she’s just busy.” 

“Maybe.” 

I frown, then look down at Calliope, who is bouncing up and down in my arms to the music in a commercial playing over my shoulder. I scoop her up and drop her into Luke’s lap, knocking the phone right out of his hands. 

“Ana!” 

“Just hold her for a minute,” I tell him, as though I know a secret that he doesn’t. He glares at me, but his arms instinctively wrap around my daughter. 

“Hi, Wook,” she says, bouncing in his lap a little. He smiles at her. 

“Hey there, Calliope Kate.” She lets out a cackily laugh. When he joins in with her, she slowly pulls herself to her feet, unsteady on his legs, but held firmly by Luke’s sure hands. She leans forward and wraps her full pink lips around the tip of his nose. 

“Ew!” he laughs, his voice alight with joy. “What are you doing, Callie?” 

“Kissy,” she replies. He leans forwards and starts kissing her all over her face. Thirty seconds and he’s completely melted. The happiness Calliope can inspire in just about anyone she comes into contact with can be a powerful drug. Even if it’s only a placebo. 

We get up then to get her dinner ready, since I still haven’t heard from Gail. I take my time, lingering at the table long after Calliope is finished eating. Chrisitan hasn’t made it home in time to put her to bed in… I don’t even know the answer to that. I want to try and keep her up for him, but, eventually, she starts to nod off in her high chair.

“I’m going to get the munchkin ready for bed,” I tell Luke, getting up and pulling Calliope into my arms. She cuddles into me, nestling her face in the crook of my neck. 

“Okay, you want me to do something about dinner for us? I can order a pizza.” He gives me a devilish grin. “Don’t worry. I know how hard up for cash you are right now, so it’s my treat.”

I glare at him. “Pizza sounds great. I’ll grab some cash.” 

The pizza is waiting for me by the time I get Calliope down, hot and already paid for. He brings a twelve pack of cheap beer from his fridge in the apartment where he, Taylor, Gail, and Kensie live. We spread it all out on the kitchen counter, then move to the living room and start looking for a movie to watch together. 

“Let me guess…” He lets the cursor on the TV hover over It Happened One Night. I smile at him. 

“You’re the sad boy, you choose.” 

“Really?” 

“Really. Lay it on me, Luke. Do your worst.” 

He exits the library of movies stored on the TV and switches over to Netflix, choosing the first movie he sees with fire in the thumbnail. I roll my eyes and start to devour my piece of pizza. I should be working, looking for our next best shot at a mega-successful release, or at least trying to figure out how to keep my publishing house afloat until I do find what I’m looking for, but I’m drained. I need this. Actually, what I need is my husband, but I have no idea when he’ll get home. It’s after nine now…

“Now you see,” Luke says. “That would never happen in real life. Did you see the size of that explosion? No way you’re walking away from that.” 

“Well, not unless you’re Jason Statham.” 

Luke nods, knowingly. “That’s true. The man’s a genius.” 

I want to roll my eyes, but we’re both distracted by the beep of the security alarm that tells us an exterior door has opened. Luke’s hands tighten as we glance over the back of the couch. 

It’s Chrisitan.

He looks exhausted. Worse, he looks half-dead. It’s nearly nine-thirty, which means he’s been in the office for over thirteen hours today. Knowing him, he didn’t take a single break. Still, his eyes manage to find their strength as he glances suspiciously between Luke and I on the couch. 

Luke sighs. “See you tomorrow, Ana.” 

“Good night.” I smile as he gets off the couch and walks back to the kitchen for the abandoned beer.

“Luke,” Chrisitan calls, making him stop with a hunch before he cautiously turns back to face my husband. 

“Mr. Grey?” 

Christian stares back at him for a second, then nods to the beer in his hands. “May I?” 

“Oh,” Luke says, looking down at the half-empty case. “Yeah, sure.” 

He reaches into the box, pulls out a can, and tosses it easily to Christian. Then he looks over at me as though that was one of the weirdest exchanges of his life. “Night, Ana.” 

I wave at him, then turn my attention back to Christian. He reaches into one of the pizza boxes on the counter and pulls out a slice, ignoring the stack of plates as his heavy footfalls lead him into the living room. I eye him curiously, like I’ve never seen the man before. He’s sitting here in a $7,000 Brioni suit, chewing Domino’s pizza and drinking warm Rainier. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Chrisitan drink anything out of a can before.

“How was your day?” I ask.

“Long,” he grunts back. “I’m sorry. I really wanted to be home to put Calliope down with you. I tried. But then my lawyers called…” He shakes his head, as though trying to dispel a bad memory. “How was she?” 

“Good. I pulled her out of daycare early so she and I spent all afternoon together.” 

“Why did you pull her out early? I thought you had a meeting with that new author this afternoon? I expected you’d be drafting contracts when I got home.” 

I frown, shrinking into the sofa cushions next to him. “I did have lunch with a new author today. It didn’t go very well.” 

“Oh… baby.” He reaches for me, pulling me into him, but I squirm away. I lost to him after all, he’s not exactly the person I want to comfort me. Honestly, I’m surprised he’s not gloating. 

“Well he’s going to sign with Elizabeth, so congratulations.” My words are bitter, and they make him smile. It’s the first real spark of life I’ve seen in him since he came through the door. 

“Really?” 

Ah, there’s the gloating. 

“Mhm. And he was my best shot to right the ship. Now we’re sinking again.” I cross my arms over my chest, trying to hold onto the anger so that my eyes don’t well with helpless tears. It doesn’t matter, Christian can read me like the Sunday paper. 

“There will be others, Ana. You’ll find what you’re looking for and then you’ll work your magic. As much as I would love to see Carmen Gallagher have to choke on that loss, I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that you’re going to figure out a way to make this right, and then blow us away with the results.”

He’d have me, right then and there, if I hadn’t heard the rancorous way he’d said Carmen’s name. 

“I thought you and Carmen were friends…ish?” 

He makes a face, almost like what I’ve said has offended him. “Carmen Gallagher and I are not friends. We understand one another. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t feel a grim sense of satisfaction if say… her plane disappeared over the ocean somewhere.” 

“That’s a little much, don’t you think? Everything okay between you two?” 

“Ever since the public found out about my company’s… financial problems.” He says the words like they’re coated in poison. “The vultures have started circling. Carmen Gallagher is a particularly ravenous bottom feeder.” 

I look away from the darkness swirling like smoke in his eyes, and stare down at my fingers instead. “Are we going to be alright, Christian?” My voice is barely audible.

“Of course we are,” he replies. “I don’t want you to worry about anything. Nothing will change for you.” 

“My credit card was declined today.” 

His whole jaw goes tight and a deep line mars his perfect forehead. “What?” 

“When I tried to pay for lunch, they told me my card was no good. Luke had to pay.” 

“I’ll make a phone call tomorrow. That won’t happen again.” His voice is even, calm. But I can hear the anger just below the surface. 

“Chrisitan… “ I angle towards him, snuggling as close as I can without actually crawling into his lap. “Tell me how bad it is.” 

He swallows, then reaches over and cups the side of my face. He stares into my eyes for a long time, stroking his thumb across my cheek as he drinks me in. I almost think he’s going to blow me off entirely until he adjusts in his seat, an arm on the back of the couch propping up his head. His palm falls from my face to my lap.

“Kate threw me a bone. Kavanagh Media is fully switching over to Grey Fiber Optic service starting in August. I’ve got a meeting first thing Monday morning with the CEO of a company in Texas that has government contracts, so if we can make a deal with them, we might have an opening into Texas for another state project. And, we filed for a patent today on a new kind of energy efficient battery that we’ve developed with some recycled tech from the fusion project. My manufacturing plant is going to start production next week. If all of that goes exactly the way I need it to, GEH should stay afloat.”

Should? I swallow against the tightening in my throat. 

“What does that mean for us?” 

“Well…” Again, he pauses. Despite the bombshell he just dropped, he seems even less enthusiastic to share whatever he has to say next. Eventually, he gets up and walks away from me, keeping his back to me as he continues. “Ana, I’m going to be letting some of our staff go.” 

“Which departments?” 

“No, our… personal staff.” 

My mouth falls open. “Chrstian, you can’t fire Luke. He’s only been back one day and–”

“No,” he interrupts me, turning back to face me again. “Not Taylor or Sawyer.” 

“So…?” 

“I’ll speak with Makensie tomorrow morning. Gail left this afternoon.” 

My hand moves up to cover my mouth. It’s the only thing I can think to do because I certainly can’t think of a way to respond to that. Calliope is going to be devastated once she realizes Kensie isn’t coming back. I can’t even bring myself to think about Gail. 

Christian’s head falls, the confession of how dire our situation is breaking him. I’m on my feet in the next second, wrapping my arms around him. 

“I’m so sorry, Ana. I should have listened. I should have seen the evidence of what was right in front of me. I just… I really, really thought I could do this.” 

“I know.” My words are more true than I think he can even know. I felt the same kind of confidence he’s begging me to understand when I walked into that restaurant today. I’d even preemptively made decisions, made promises, assuming I’d already had the deal in the bag. Now, I have nothing. 

It’s poetic in a way. After everything we’ve survived, the thing to truly humble us was our own hubris. For the first time, standing there with him, it feels like we’re just two twenty-something kids who have no idea what the hell we’re doing. 

But neither one of us is a quitter and as long as we have something to fight for, we won’t stop. We have Calliope’s future to think about, and all of the dreams we each want the other to be able to achieve. 

“Don’t give up on me, Ana. Please.” His plea weighs heavy on my heart. I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling myself up so that my nose is only just not touching his. 

“I’ll never give up on you. We’re going to get through this. No matter what happens, you and I, we’re going to be just fine. You’re enough for me, Christian. You’re more than I ever even dared to be selfish enough to dream about.” 

He leans forward and kisses me, his lips pleading in their want. For a long time, all he does is kiss me. Deep. Slow. Sensual. His tongue caresses mine in a way that makes my entire body tingle. His hands move softly over me, bringing goosebumps to the surface of my skin that only become more pronounced with every soft moan or declaration of love that escapes his lips each and every time we part, even if it’s just for a second. 

God I love him. 

It’s overwhelming sometimes, like it’s too powerful for me to truly feel in its entirety all at once, because there’s not enough space in my heart to physically contain it all. That if I tried, I would burst apart like a dying star. So, I push into him. The powerful feelings of love and want and belonging overflowing from me, pouring into him. He drinks it all in greedily, like he’s just emerged from the desert after forty long days and nights and my lips are his very first taste of cool, clean water. 

I’m so absorbed in his kiss that I don’t realize it when he sweeps me up into his arms and carries me up the stairs to our bedroom. He falls onto the bed with me, but it could have been the couch or a cloud high above the planet for all I know. I’ve completely disappeared into him and the healing love we share between us. 

Long after our clothes have been tossed to the floor and we’ve both managed to tumble our way back to Earth from an absolutely astounding high, he lays next to me looking much lighter. Sated. He drags his index finger from my collar bones to my belly button, over and over again. We lay there, in comfortable silence, neither one of us quite ready to leave the other for sleep. 

“Do you remember last year when you were still pregnant and you had convinced yourself that I was sleeping with Gia while you were in Cambridge?” he asks. 

Her name makes me cringe with revulsion, but I nod. “I was stupid. It was the hormones.” 

He lets out a soft laugh, then props himself up on his elbows and looks down at me like I’m the most precious thing in the entire world.

“This is why she, and every other girl like her, never held any interest for me. Gia, Leila, even Elena… none of them would be here right now. None of them would have stood by me through this. When you say you love me, you really mean me.” 

“I do.” 

He closes his eyes, as though he’s suddenly in pain. “I don’t deserve you.” 

I take his face in my hands and force him to look up at me. “Yes, Chrisitan. You do. You are every bit the man today that you were before all of this happened. Nothing as stupid as money could ever change that for me. I love you.” 

“Sometimes, love doesn’t feel like enough to describe the way I feel about you.” He kisses me again, and for a moment, I think we’re going to pick up right where we left off. But then he pulls away and brushes his hand tenderly through my hair. “Would you mind if I brought Calliope in here to sleep with us tonight?” 

“You miss her.” It’s a statement, but he answers anyway. 

“More than you could ever know.” 

My face crinkles in pain when I hear the strain behind his words. With the hours he’s been working, he hasn’t really seen her for more than a few minutes a day for nearly a month. 

“Yeah,” I tell him. “Go get her.” He nods and places one last kiss against my lips. 

“I’ll be right back.” 

“I’ll be counting the seconds.” He laughs, but the second his heat disappears from my side, I start to count. 

1, 2, 3…

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