Scorching Romance

“Mom!” Teddy came into the bedroom with his Spiderman toy. “Mom, Taylor is here.”

I adjusted the ring until it was snug on my finger. “He is?” My voice always rose when I spoke to my son. He was adorable, having the same curly hair with a tint of red as his father. “We should get going then. Where’s your sister?”

Teddy rolled his eyes. “Why would I know?”

I walked past him and rubbed his hair as I passed. “You’re the older brother. Of course you know where your sister is.” I walked into Phoebe’s room and lifted her from her crib. She was dressed already, a ring of plastic keys in her hand. “Ready to go, sweetheart?”

The only response I got was a smile.

With Phoebe in one arm, I shouldered my purse and grabbed Teddy’s hand. We were escorted down to the garage where we got into the backseat of Taylor’s black car. I checked everyone’s safety belts before we drove away.

“Ready, Mrs. Grey?” Taylor’s clipped voice came from the front of the car, cryptic as ever.

I would never get tired of hearing that name even though it’d been on my driver’s license for years. “Yes.”

Taylor drove us downtown until we arrived in front of the enormous skyscraper where my husband worked every single day. We were escorted to the elevator before we were finally allowed to venture the rest of the way on our own.

“Why does Taylor follow us everywhere?” Teddy asked. His toy bounced off his leg as he held it by his side.

“He likes us.” I wiped a spot of spit from Phoebe’s chin with my handkerchief then quickly shoved it into my pocket.

“Why?” Teddy asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered. “Why does anyone like anyone?”

Teddy stared at the buttons as the elevator rose. His hand twitched by his side.

           

I knew exactly what he was thinking. He pulled this little stunt before. “Don’t even think about it. Or your father will hear about it.”

           

He pretended the thought never crossed his mind and touched his doll.

           

The doors opened when we reached the top floor, and Christian’s secretary greeted the children like she always did. Blonde and busty, she was the definition of eye candy.

“So adorable.” She immediately took Phoebe out of my arms and rocked her from side to side. “You get bigger every time I see you.” She tickled her stomach until Phoebe chuckled. “Mr. Grey is ready to see you now.”

Teddy immediately darted to the toy station Christian had placed there. When the kids came to work with him, they needed to be entertained.

“Is he free?” I asked.

           

“I don’t think it matters.” She gave me a knowing look before she sat down with Phoebe, enraptured by the little girl as much as I was.

I walked to the doors and knocked before I stepped inside.

           

“Ana, don’t knock.” His authoritative voice rang through the thick doors. “I’ve told you that already.”

           

I walked inside and shut the door behind me, feeling at ease in the office that once intimidated me. The glider figurine still sat on the desk exactly where he placed it years ago. His normally boring desk now had a framed picture of the four of us.

But that was the only change after all this time.

           

He stayed behind his desk and stared at me, his brooding and intimidating gaze enough to frighten anyone. But when he gave me that look, it had a different meaning. It had a different kind of power. “Just. Come. In.”

He’d told me that a hundred times, but I felt awkward barging in. He could be in a meeting. I didn’t know.

He continued to stare me down coldly, like he hated me but loved me at the same time.

           

I made the first move and approached the desk, my arms across my chest and the diamond from my wedding ring digging into my side. He still made me tense—in every good way imaginable.

His legs were crossed and his crisp black suit looked just as pristine as it did when he left the house in the morning. His five o’clock shadow was tantalizing. When it brushed against my soft cheek, it made me come alive with passion. His copper curly hair called my name. I wanted to hook a finger in the strands and twirl each one.

“Mrs. Grey.” He preferred the title to Ana. He’d been that way since our wedding day.

           

“Mr. Grey.”

He turned in his seat slightly, exposing his lap from underneath the desk. “You didn’t respond to any of my emails.” Every time he asked a question, it came off as a command.

“Because I was busy raising your two children.”

“Too busy to write a reply?” His voice was cold. “Maybe we need to hire some help.”

           

“I don’t want someone else raising my kids. I told you that.”

“But I still want to be the master of your universe.” He rose to his feet, towering over me with his height. His arms were thick in the suit, and he was every bit the man I fantasized about. He crept toward me, slowly closing the gap between us. When he was just an inch away, he stared hard into my face, his masculine scent washing over me like a dream. The cold look returned to his eyes. He wanted to fuck me but love me at the exact same time.

I knew what was coming next. “We should go. The realtor is waiting.”

He grabbed my wrist, giving me a gentle squeeze.

           

I already knew I was lost. I’d been lost for a long time.

“If you’re important, people will wait.” He grabbed my skirt and yanked it to my waist, exposing the black thong I wore underneath. My ass was lifted onto the desk, and my panties were yanked over so hard they practically ripped.

My body flushed in heat and moisture pooled between my legs like a flowing river. I watched him undo his trousers and pull his pulsing cock out. Without preamble, he shoved himself inside me, knowing how wet I would be without checking. His craving for me had never died away since the moment we met. After I became his wife, he wanted me more.

After I had his children, he wanted me even more.

This rendezvous was anything but vanilla. It was blacker than coal, hotter than ash. He gripped my hips with force and pounded into me, shoving his length entirely inside, claiming me over and over. His hand lifted me slightly off the wood, my back arching with him. He deepened the angle and gave it to me harder. I could only hear the sounds of our slick bodies moving together.

I didn’t make a sound in fear of what our children would hear. I bit my lip to keep the screams back, to stop the moans from escaping.

Christian’s eyes fell on my mouth, and that little gesture made him throb deep inside me. He gripped my hips harder and stared me right in the eye, his gray eyes bright as crystal but dark as fire. “Ana.” He buried himself deep inside me, his hips and ass working hard to give me every inch.

I grabbed his wrists and held on, my nails digging into his skin because his cock felt so good. I bit my lip again because I couldn’t think straight. My entire body tensed and coiled for the unbelievable ecstasy that was about to wash through me. It was a white-hot ball of fire that exploded in my veins. My back arched again, and I whimpered through the force, trying not to let the groan leave my throat.

Christian watched me come undone and fucked me harder. He pulled me farther off the desk and went balls-deep, filling me with every inch of his impressive machinery. He tensed noticeably before he released, his eyes glued to mine. “Mrs. Grey.”

I gripped his wrists tighter and felt his seed fill me. It was warm and heavy. I’d felt it a million times, but the sensation never got old. I wanted to feel that weight every single day for the rest of my life. His cock twitched inside me as he finished.

Christian took two breaths before he quickly pulled out of me and zipped up his trousers. He was back to being a man of mystery, hiding his emotions like they never happened at all. When he was in this building, he was even more guarded than usual.

           

I wanted to enjoy the high forever, but I knew our children were just outside. I adjusted my panties and pulled down my skirt, feeling the weight of his seed press against my entrance.

“We should get going.” Christian locked his electronics in his office like always before he walked out. He grabbed my hand at the door then stepped outside. Teddy was playing with his toys and Phoebe was still in his assistant’s lap. As if he didn’t just fuck me like an animal, he went to Teddy’s side. “Hey, Sport.”

“Hey, Dad.” Teddy abandoned his toys and held up his Spiderman stuffed toy. “Look what I got today.”

Christian eyed it, his expression unreadable. “Very nice.”

“Mom got it for me.”

He nodded. “You’ll have to let me play with it when we get home.”

“Okay.” Teddy practically jumped in excitement.

Christian grabbed Phoebe from his assistant’s arms and held her like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Hey, beautiful.” He looked down at her, the same fondness in his eyes as he had for Teddy.

I watched them, mesmerized by the scene before me.

Christian walked toward me, our daughter still tucked in his protective arms. “Taylor is waiting. Let’s go.”

           

“Come on, Teddy.” I extended my hand so he would take it.

Christian stepped away from the realtor and walked the grounds in solitude. His shoulders were stiff with tension, and he turned his face away at every chance he got. With a face as famous as his, he avoided the public eye whenever possible. He stopped at the edge of the lawn and looked over the bay right off the property.

The day was overcast, full of melancholy and crisp coldness. The air itself seemed to be gray, matching My Fifty in more ways than one. His hands rested in his pockets, and he remained absolutely still, shrouded in mystery.

Our realtor, Pam, watched him with her clipboard held to her chest. “What do you think, Mrs. Grey?”

I pulled my eyes away from my husband, realizing I stared at him more than the property. “It’s beautiful.” We decided on an upgrade for the size and the location. Teddy would be starting school very soon, and a private institution was just ten minutes away. It was a little farther than Grey House, but Christian didn’t seem to mind. “I think the kids will love it.”

“And Mr. Grey?” She raised an eyebrow and glanced at him. She was aware of his standoffish behavior, but she refused to directly address it. My Fifty had a habit of making everyone around him innately uncomfortable.

“I’m sure he likes it too.”

Teddy stayed by my side with his toy tucked under his arm. Phoebe was in my arms and warm under a thick coat. Her pink rain boots were a gift from Christian’s mother—and they were so cute.

I silently excused myself and went to Christian’s side. Phoebe leaned against my chest and closed her eyes, exhausted from the long day. She was a quiet baby, withdrawn and distant, just like her father. And of course, she had his eyes. “What do you think?”

He surveyed the bay, looking at the large ships out on the water. He dealt with shipments on a regular basis for work. That’s probably all he thought about when he saw the cargo ships coming to port. “No. The question is, what do you think?”

“I love it. But I already loved it when I looked at the pictures. We’re here for your opinion.”

He remained silent, his jaw clenched.

Sometimes it was hard to tell what he was thinking. Today, I didn’t have a clue.

“If you love it, I love it.”

There was nothing wrong with the house we lived in. It was perfect, and I didn’t have a single complaint. But we would be closer to Christian’s parents, and that would help when we needed a sitter. And we were right next door to the greatest schools in the state. Education was important to both of us—but it seemed less important to him. “Then we can make an offer?”

           

A cold laugh escaped from his throat. “An offer? No. We’ll buy it today.”

I still had my own bank account with a humble savings tucked away. I didn’t use Christian’s money often. In fact, I steered clear of it. It was half mine, but I felt no ownership over it. Despite what some people thought, I didn’t marry Christian for his wealth, power, and control.

I married him—for him.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

His eyes scanned the horizon like he was searching for something. “I’m always sure.”

***

I put the kids to bed then entered the bedroom I shared with the mysterious man I knew as my husband. His layers had been peeled away until there was nothing but bone. I’d seen his soul and understood it better than anyone else. But there were times, like now, when he put up his walls and refused to let anyone enter.

Including me.

“You aren’t telling me something.” I pulled on the nightdress Mrs. Jones had hung in the closet. It was white and made of fine silk. It moved across my skin like a light feather. I sat at the edge of the bed and stared at Christian.

He sat up against the gray headboard, his eyes trained on a spot on the opposite side of the bedroom. His jaw was clenched just as it was earlier. “There are a lot of things I don’t tell you.”

I slipped into bed beside him and pulled up the covers. I didn’t touch him and remained on my side of the bed. He allowed me to touch him, even his chest, but tonight seemed different than the most. “Then you should start.”

He didn’t move from his spot on the bed. Still and silent as a statue, he remained erect. Then, without preamble, he turned off the lamp on his nightstand and brought the room into darkness. He scooted down until his head rested on a pillow and his arm was tucked underneath his head. He didn’t reach for me or move between my legs like he usually did. There were miles between us.

We hadn’t visited the playroom in weeks. We were both busy with work and the kids. There was just never time. Perhaps that was what burned under his skin. He needed to release energy, his frustration. He’d opened up to me in ways he never had before, but that didn’t mean his demons had disappeared. With a past like his, I understood he would always carry his nightmares everywhere he went. “Christian.” I didn’t say his name often, only when I demanded his attention.

After a pause of silence, he turned his head. He finally looked at me with those gray eyes. They mirrored the overcast clouds that covered Seattle that afternoon. They perfectly matched his unpleasant mood.

I opened the nightstand and pulled out the pair of handcuffs that were settled on the bottom underneath old journals and books. The children never went in here so they wouldn’t discover some of the inappropriate things we kept.

He eyed the cold metal with dark eyes.

“Sir, command me.” Just as I’d predicted, his eyes grew in intensity. They no longer glared the cuffs in my hand. Instead, he watched me like he never wanted me more. His normally stoic face had turned to ash. His thoughts were dark, full of sinister intent.

The look still frightened me. But it also made me wet at the same time. The handcuffs swung back and forth as they hung from my extended finger. We didn’t usually indulge the dark desires he relished when we were at home. But he clearly needed it.

And I needed it too.

He didn’t need any convincing. He watched me submit and immediately turned into the Dom I trusted. He took me places I’d never been before. He held my hand and guided me into the darkness—but he always brought the light with him.

Within a heartbeat, he snatched me and forced me onto my stomach in the center of the bed. My nightgown was pulled to my waist and my thong was ripped from my body. He grabbed both of my hands and secured them behind my back before the handcuffs closed around my wrists. When they were locked in place, a definitive click sounded in my ear.

He hopped off the bed and pulled two ties from the closet. Each one of my ankles were tied to the bedposts. I was sprawled across the bed with easy access. My gown was bunched underneath my resting hands. I felt the bite of metal against my wrists, but I enjoyed the pain.

He removed his pajama bottoms and boxers before he crawled on top of me. His shirt was still on—an old habit that never seemed to disappear. He fisted a handful of hair and yanked my neck back, exposing my mouth for him to enjoy.

He sprinkled kisses along my chin and to the corner of my mouth. He placed one final kiss right on my lips before pulling my bottom lip into his mouth. After a playful bite, he released it. “Mrs. Grey.” His lips moved to the shell of my ear. “I’m going to fuck you now. But no screaming.” He wrapped another tie around my mouth and secured it at the back of my head, gagging me into silence.

He moved between my legs and rubbed his hard cock right between my ass cheeks. He shaft rubbed against the moisture pooling from my sex then rubbed it right over my ass to my lower back. His moisture oozed from the tip and matched my own.

He breathed quietly from behind me, unable to mask his excitement. His hands were placed on both sides of my shoulders. He held his toned body without any exertion. Then, without warning, he shoved his hard cock inside me in one swift motion.

I moaned against my will but the sound was muffled against his tie.

Christian moved his mouth to my ear and breathed deeply. “Fuck, Mrs. Grey.” Once his cock was inside me, he moved in and out slowly, teasing me with the anticipation. He moved with little friction because I was so soaked. Christian made my body do amazing things. I could be seriously dehydrated, but I would still get wet from him. “Always so wet for me.”

Only you.

He worked his hips slowly before suddenly thrusting into me. He gave me a violent pounding, pressing my body into the mattress as he fucked me as hard as he could. The bed shook and creaked but the expensive mattress and bedframe limited most of the shock. I felt him stretch me over and over, and I wanted to scream in ecstasy. I was already about to come. I could feel it.

Christian panted from above me, his strong arms tensing with the exertion. His hips slammed into my ass and made me shake. Just when I thought he couldn’t go deeper, he did. My clitoris rubbed against the sheets because he moved so hard, and I felt the orgasm rip right through me.

White-hot and blinding.

I moaned into the gag, feeling the delectable goodness wash through me. I loved vanilla, but I also loved this. I loved the way he took me like he owned me. I loved being the fantasy he needed to stay sane. I loved being a part of this dream.

I loved everything.

“You get so tight when you come, Ana.” He growled into my ear as he kept moving, his breaths turning into pants. His cock hardened inside me because he was about to come. He was about to fill me to the brim.

He inserted himself completely inside me as he continued his pace. His pants turned to quiet groans. He gripped my hair harder and forced my head back, exerting his unbreakable control over me. After a few more pumps, he released.

He moaned into my ear as he finished. “Mrs. Grey. You’re mine.”

<< Chapter One  |  Chapter Three >>

A manuscript appeared on my desk that morning from an author I’d never heard of before. A yellow sticky note was placed on the top and it read, “Read this.” There was no explanation of whom it was from.

But after the first few pages, I was hooked.

I ignored my emails and phone calls and kept reading. I faced the large floor-to-ceiling window and flipped through every single page. I started to lick my fingertips before every swipe because they were getting dry.

But that didn’t stop me.

Raindrops started to sprinkle across the window. Light tapping noises filled my ear, the sound I was used to hearing almost every day in Seattle. It brought me a strange sense of comfort—and it also made me think of my husband.

My assistant, Angelica, stepped into my office. “Mrs. Grey. Mr. Grey is on hold for you. He said he tried calling your direct line a few times but there was no answer…” Her voice trailed away with a tone of dread.

“Please call me Ana.” This wasn’t the first time I had to remind her.

“Of course.” She walked out.

I set the heavy manuscript on the table before I took the call. His anger pulsed through the phone before I even picked up the receiver. “Ana.” I blurted out the name on instinct, so focused on Christian’s reaction I didn’t think about it.

It soured his already dark mood. “Not Ana. Mrs. Grey.”

I pressed my lips tightly together and stopped myself from biting my bottom lip. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day.”

“And you’ve finally succeeded.”

Even in his silence, he was terrifying. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

“I put it on silent.”

He was going to spank me the second I got home. I knew it. “And why did you think that was a good idea?”

“I was in the middle of something very important.”

“Really?” he said coldly. “You didn’t respond to any of my emails, so I know you weren’t on your computer today.”

“Maybe I was, and I chose to ignore your emails.”

His breath came out as a threat. “Mrs. Grey, tread carefully.”

I’d given myself to this man—completely. But there were a few things I refused to sacrifice. And the first thing was my freedom. “Since you’ve been trying to get a hold of me for so long, you must have something important to say. So what is it?”

Silence.

I knew it. “As I suspected.”

Christian didn’t take the defeat lightly. “I’m your master. I don’t need a reason to call you. And when I do, you better answer.”

“Right now, you’re just my husband. We aren’t in the playroom.”

“We weren’t in the playroom last night either.” The warning remained in his voice. “And I’m going to spank you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week, Ana. Come prepared.”

“I always do. Goodbye, Christian.” Before I hung up, his voice came over the phone.

“What has stolen your focus so much today?”

He wanted to prolong the conversation. He probably had something he wanted to say. “I received a phenomenal manuscript today. I haven’t finished it yet, but I don’t think I need to.”

“That’s good news.”

“It is.” I waited for him to spit out whatever he wanted to say.

He finally got to the point. “Pam called. The house is ours.”

“So you did call for a reason.” I couldn’t keep the smile out of my voice.

Christian was quiet for nearly a minute. I pictured him sitting in his office, the toy plane still on his desk. He wore the crisp gray suit he left the house in. His grey eyes matched the clouds right outside the window. “Mrs. Grey, I always call for a reason.”

Chapter Three

“Did you put this on my desk?” I held up the manuscript so my assistant could read the title. The sticky note was still there with rush words written across the surface. It didn’t look like her handwriting, but perhaps she was in a hurry.

“No, Ana. I can try to find out who did.”

If they didn’t sign their name, perhaps they didn’t want me to know. “It’s okay. I’d like to arrange a meeting with Mr…” I opened the front page to find the name. “Colton. I’m interested in publishing his work.”

“Of course. Anything else?” She gathered the thick manuscript in her hands. “Tea?”

I’d had enough tea for the day. “No, thank you.”

She nodded before she walked out.

I eyed the clock on my computer and knew it was time for me to head home. Taylor would walk into my office at any moment to retrieve me. Instead of being at My Fifty’s beck and call, he usually lingered in my proximity. I couldn’t even go to lunch without him knowing about it.

Right on cue, Taylor walked inside. “Hello, Mrs. Grey. Are you finished for the day?”

“Call me Ana.” I couldn’t count the number of times I’d made the request. He never called me by anything except Mrs. Grey. I suspected Christian had ordered him to address me as such—or lose his job.

“Are you ready?” he repeated.

“I think so.” I packed my things and walked out with him, escorted through the building with a bodyguard that carried a weapon. The security detail was unnecessary. But Christian didn’t agree.

“How was your day?” he asked.

“Good.” I told him about the manuscript I found. It was a diamond in the rough. A lot of good things came across my desk, but very rarely did something truly remarkable fall in my lap. The sentences were tied together through beautiful craftsmanship. The words weren’t just words. They were little bits of poetry.

We got into the town car, and Taylor drove me home. Christian was probably at the house or with his trainer. He needed regular exercise and sex to keep his cool indifference. Without it, the rage burned under his skin.

When Taylor made a different turn, I knew we weren’t headed back to the house. “Where are we going?”

“Mr. Grey asked me to take you to the apartment.”

And he wasn’t going to tell me about this? “Why am I the last to know?”

“Just following orders, Mrs. Grey.”

“Well, I’m his other half. I think I should have some say.”

Taylor pulled into the underground parking garage and parked his car in the designated spot.

I already lost the battle. “The children?”

“Mrs. Jones has them at the house.”

I knew what this was. Christian wasn’t pleased with our previous conversation. He hated it when I defied him. But he loved it at the same time—even if he wouldn’t admit it.

Taylor escorted me into the elevator and pressed the button before he quickly stepped out. “Have a good evening, Mrs. Grey.”

“Will you ever call me Ana?”

He gave me a cold expression until the doors closed and hid his face from view.

That was a firm no.

***

The sound of the piano came into my ears the moment the doors opened. The melody was sad and heartbreaking, telling the tale of a million deaths in a single night. His sour mood carried through the music, hanging heavy in the air like humid drops of rain.

I walked into the living room and saw him sitting at the black piano. It was a singular hobby that he got lost in. It was the one soothing activity he allowed himself. Everything else was nice helicopters, planes, and fast cars. His music was the gateway to his soul.

It was the gateway to his therapy.

I walked to the piano and stood beside him. He was shirtless, wearing only his slacks and shoes. His head was bowed toward the keys as he played. His slender fingers moved over them gracefully, hitting the right notes at the exact moment they were expected. The result was a beautiful sound that couldn’t be described.

“Beautiful.” My hand moved into his hair. His flinch was slight but evident nonetheless. He allowed me to touch him, but some nights were more difficult than others. I felt the soft strands with my fingertips before I pulled them away.

He continued to play like there was never any interruption.

I sat on the bench beside him and rested my cheek against his shoulder. I felt his muscles every time he moved his arm. They tensed with his obvious strength then relaxed as his fingers continued to glide.

I got lost in my daydreams, listening to music so heartbreaking it was comforting. Sitting together like that reminded me of the beginning of our relationship. He wanted me to be his submissive—and nothing more.

But I married him instead.

He took my virginity in a violent way, but somehow it was gentle. He took me to a place I’d never been. He took things from me I’d never given to anyone else. He owned me from the first moment we looked at one another.

And nothing was ever the same.

He ended the song but the music echoed indefinitely. I could hear it play in my ears, stuck in my head like a catchy tune. I lifted my head from his shoulder and looked into his eyes, seeing the darkness deepen. It was very rare for it just to be him and me. We had two beautiful children that we loved and they ruled our lives. There wasn’t always time for just us.

I suspected he struggled with it.

Like a spider, he was recluse. He preferred his solitude, his silence. Only when he was alone did he have moments of brilliance and revelation. I hated it when he pulled away, but I understood he needed the space to stay sane. It was nothing personal—just a coping mechanism.

“On your knees.” The warning came from nowhere. He became my Dom and I was his submissive. The command radiated in his voice like a war chief.

Our apartment was reserved for the darkness we both embraced. Neither one of our children ever came here—except on rare occasions. We couldn’t mix our exotic pleasure with the vanilla sex we had at home. A line had been drawn in the sand, and we never crossed it.

His cold eyes were on me, and he dared me to defy him.

I moved to my knees on the floor, my head bowed just as it should be. I didn’t look at him, my eyes glued to the pristine mahogany floor. My breathing came out slow and deep, anticipating his next command.

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

He stayed at the piano and turned back to the keys. “You pissed me off today, Ana.”

Did I piss him off in the hope I would be punished? I wasn’t sure anymore.

“When I call, you answer. When we speak, you don’t question me.”

I didn’t look at him.

“Mrs. Grey.  You. Are. Mine.” He rose to his feet unexpectedly. He towered over me, his long and toned legs in my peripheral vision. “Are you mine?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“What did you say?” he whispered.

I spoke louder. “Yes. Sir.”

He undid his trousers and pulled his belt from the loops. The metal rattled with his movement, and he bent the belt in half, prepared to strike me with the bite of the leather.

My pulse quickened. I could feel it in both of my wrists. My breathing grew deeper. My nipples hardened in desire, and warmth burned between my legs.

He sat at the edge of the bench with his feet planted on the floor. “Up.”

I rose to my feet, still not looking at him.

“Across my knee.” He commanded me with his expression, his look callous.

I crawled across his knee, my ass in the air.

He lifted my dress to my back and yanked my thong down. His anxious fingers worked the material quickly, grazing my thigh until they reached the curve of my ass. He gently palmed the area, his breathing quick with excitement. “I’m going to spank you three times, Anastasia.”

I feared the pain but anticipated the pleasure. I wanted the familiar bite of the leather. I hadn’t felt it in so long. But I craved his satisfaction most of all. Every time he slapped the belt across my cheeks, he growled in pleasure. His cock became rock-hard, and he could barely keep it in his pants. That kind of arousal heightened my own.

He raised the belt and took a deep breath. He slammed the leather across both cheeks, making a slapping sound the second it hit my pale skin. The leather bit into me, making me call out involuntarily. The pain burned into my skin. I could feel the welt instantly.

Christian struck me again, the leather burning my tender flesh.

I whimpered at the collision. My skin sizzled from the fire. I couldn’t keep my scream back. The second spank hurt more than the first—but there was so much more pleasure out of it.

He could barely contain himself. He panted and gripped me tightly, the arousal pumping hard in his veins. His chest rose and fell with deepened breaths. “Fuck. Ana.” He slammed the belt down a third time, hitting me with more force than the first two strikes.

I screamed again.

He dropped the belt on the floor and gently ran his hand up my ass. “You like to be punished, don’t you?  You enjoy my pain, Mrs. Grey.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the welted skin. “And I love punishing you.”

He dragged me to my feet then lifted me in his arms. His feet carried me to the playroom just down the hall. He set me down before he pulled the key out of his pocket. Once the door was unlocked and open, we stepped inside.

Cable ties hung from the ceiling, assorted whips and chains were arranged by size, and the large bed remained in the corner where it’d always been. So many toys and restraints. We’d already tried most of them.

Christian took me to the center of the room and raised my hands above my head. He secured leather straps around my wrists aggressively, treating me like the submissive that I was.

I didn’t look at him.

He suddenly grabbed my hair and yanked my head back forcefully and pressed a kiss to my earlobe. His teeth nibbled on it, giving me a warning without words. Suddenly, he let me go and pulled on the lever, suspending me from the ceiling. “Do you want me to punish you, Ana?”

“Yes, Sir.” My response was always the same.

“I do too. But it’ll have to wait. Because I need to fuck you right now.” He dropped his pants and boxers to the floor the moved underneath me. He wrapped my legs around his waist then shoved himself inside me with one fluid motion. His thick cock separated me instantly, nearly ripping me in two.

But it felt so good.

“Mrs. Grey.” He pumped into me hard right from the beginning, fucking me like the plaything that I was. The welts on my ass still burned, but that agony somehow heightened the experience.

I moaned as we moved together, my arms still secured above my head. Christian purposely used the straps that chafed against my skin. If this went on for too long, I would have a mark.

But I’m sure he wanted that.

He grunted as he thrust into me, enjoying my slickness with his throbbing cock. “Fuck, Ana.” He crushed his mouth to mine and gave me a kiss so hard it actually bruised me. He claimed me with everything he had, making me his all over again.

“Christian.” Because I rarely said his name, when I did, it registered on his brain in a different way. No one else referred to him that way—except the people he was closest to.

He pounded into me harder, his pelvic bone running against my clitoris. The stimulation there was overwhelming. My body tightened in preparation for the ecstasy that was about to shake me.

Christian could feel it. He could always feel it. “Come for me.”

Like a good submissive, I complied. I burst into a raging fire all around him, lathering his dick with my wetness. I moaned into his mouth as I felt the world crumble around me. The bruise on my ass and wrists just heightened my pleasure, bringing me an orgasm that rivaled all the ones prior—and the ones I hadn’t felt yet.

He looked into my eyes before he hit his trigger. The second he felt me wind down, he inserted himself completely inside me before he released. He gave me every single drop of his seed, wanting me to carry it for as long as I could. He claimed me in the most carnal way possible—and he would never let me forget I was his. “Don’t pull that shit on me again, Ana. I mean it.”

As his submissive, I had to comply, even if I didn’t mean it. “Yes, Sir.”

My coffee was waiting on my desk when I walked inside. The basket on the counter contained the manuscripts my editor in chief and assistant editor had already perused before they handed them over for my opinion.

The manuscript I had been reading yesterday sat in the center of my desk. The sticky note was absent this time.

I sat down and sipped my coffee before I shoved the manuscript to the edge. I had emails to write before I could indulge in the rest of this fantastic story Mr. Colton wrote.

Denise rapped her knuckles on the door before she walked inside. “Good morning, Ana.”

“Good morning, Denise.” I gave her a beaming smile. Denise was one of my favorite people in the world. She made my job a million times easier. Without her, I wouldn’t know what to do. “Were you able to get a meeting with Mr. Colton?”

“That’s what I wanted to speak to you about.” She shut the door behind her before she approached my desk. She lowered her voice even though no one else could hear our conversation. “He’s no longer interested in publishing with Grey Publishing House.”

I stared at her blankly, feeling my heart drop straight into my stomach. The disappointment was paramount, and that made me realize how much I had to have this book. I’d never been so emotionally attached to anything since Jane Eyre. “Did he say why?”

Denise shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. He just said he was no longer interested but flattered to be considered. He was very polite.”

Why submit a manuscript then reject an offer? It didn’t make any sense. “Can you give me his contact information?”

“Of course.” She retrieved the note before she set it on my desk. “Anything else, Ana?”

“No. That will be all.”

Denise smiled before she walked out.

I grabbed the paper and stared at the phone number underneath his name. The area code implied he lived in Washington, possibly Seattle. I steeled my nerve before I picked up the phone and made the call.

After the fourth ring, he answered. “Colton.”

Without seeing his face, I pictured a man of my own age. His voice belied his youth. After reading the manuscript, I assumed he was middle aged, a man with years of wisdom under his belt. “Hi. My name is Ana.” His voice caught me off guard. I was expecting one thing and got something completely different.

“Hi, Ana.” He spoke with confidence, like my awkward introduction wasn’t weird. “How may I help you?”

“I’m calling from Grey Publishing House. You submitted your manuscript to us just a few weeks ago. I have to say, I was really mesmerized with it. We get a lot of great books here, but I’m particularly fascinated with yours.”

“That’s nice of you to say.” He remained polite, but he didn’t seem to care about what I said. It meant nothing to him, it seemed. “It took me two years to write, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

“And thank you for writing it.” If it never saw publication, at least I got to enjoy it. “I was hoping you and I could get together and talk about it. Do you have some time this afternoon? Perhaps tomorrow?” I wasn’t a salesman, but I knew I had to be a little aggressive.

“I spoke to Denise yesterday and told her I wasn’t interested in going further in the process. However, I am flattered you took interest in my story. Thank you for calling, Ana.”

If a publishing house called me about my manuscript, I’d be over-the-moon. The fact he didn’t care at all was shocking. “Wait, hold on.” I listened for the click at the end of the line but it never came. “I would still love to meet the man who authored this fine piece of work. Surely, you can spare a moment for a cup of coffee?” He seemed confident but not cold. He might agree.

“Wow. It’s not every day that you catch the eye of the owner of a publishing house.”

How did he know I owned it? Or at least my husband did? “Is that a yes?”

He sighed into the phone. “Well, I do have some time in about an hour. Does that work for you?”

“Absolutely.” I was making this deal happen. It didn’t matter what it cost. “How about The Roast in Pike’s Market?”

“Good choice,” he said. “They have great coffee.”

“I’ll see you then.”

“Alright.” He hung up.

I returned the phone to the receiver and tried to think of a way I was going to convince this man to hand over his manuscript. Sometimes authors didn’t trust the way a publisher would handle their books. But I needed this man to trust me. Because this was a book every person in the world should read. Yes, it was that good.

Denise walked into my office with a stack of folders I needed to look through. “Mr. Grey is on the line for you.”

Seriously? I just saw him less than an hour ago. “Thank you.”

She walked out and shut the door.

I picked up the phone. “Hello.”

He paused before he spoke. “Hello.”

Silence. Tense silence. We hadn’t said a word to each other since he spanked me and fucked me in his playroom. We went home and spent time with our two children before bed. Then we went to work the next morning, both satisfied and spent.

Christian broke the silence. “I hope you aren’t uncomfortable today.”

I knew what he was referring to. “My behind feels fine. Thanks for asking.”

“You know I’m always considerate.” He went silent over the line, his eyes probably gazing across the city. He was looking at my building just a few blocks over. Somehow, I could feel his gaze.

“Anything else you want to say?”

“Do I need a reason to call my wife?”

“When I just saw you an hour, you didn’t seem talkative.”

“Because I was busy looking at you.”

I let his words echo in my mind long after he said them.

“I want to meet at the apartment after work.” He didn’t ask me. He didn’t give me a choice. He bossed me around—like always.

“That’s nice.” I always called him out on his behavior. He continually tried to control me. And I sidestepped every attempt. “Maybe I’ll meet you there. Maybe I won’t. I haven’t been asked yet.”

His irritation was palpable. “Anastasia, would you like to meet at the apartment this afternoon?”

“No.” I loved our fun in the playroom. I loved the places he took my body. He could make me writhe in an orgasm that made me scream at the top of my lungs. But he wanted that playroom a lot more lately. And I wanted something else. “Vanilla.”

“Vanilla.” His disappointment flooded over the line. “You got vanilla earlier this week.”

“I want dinner. I want flowers.” A nice spanking always felt good. But a romantic dinner with my husband sounded better. “You can pick me up at six.”

Christian remained silent as he deliberated my offer. He could argue his point or just accept the fact I wanted something different tonight. If he fought me, I would just fight harder. The ball was in his court. “Where would you like to go?”

I smiled in victory. “You know I leave those choices up to you.”

***

I arrived at the coffee shop with the manuscript stashed in my purse. I had no idea what this man looked like, so I searched for a stereotypical nerd. Someone with glasses and a jacket made of tweed.

I stepped further inside the café and listened to the piano music playing overhead. The blender went on randomly, disturbing the soft noise of the café with chopping ice.

I spotted a man sitting in the corner. He had dark brown hair with fair skin. He wore a white t-shirt with a faint design on the front. He seemed young enough to be in college, possibly getting his master’s degree.

Was it him?

When he felt my gaze, he looked up and spotted me. He looked me over before he waved me over.

Did he know who I was?

I approached the table with my purse over my shoulder. “Hi…Colton?”

“That’s me.” He stood up and shook my hand. “I thought you might be Ana. You definitely looked like you were searching for someone.” He sat down again and closed his laptop.

Was he writing another story?

I sat down too and pulled the manuscript out of my purse. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“I didn’t have a choice. You were adamant.” He smiled with his eyes so I knew he was teasing.

“I’m not normally adamant. I’m just in love with your story.”

“Thank you. I’ve never showed it to anyone before, so you’re my only feedback.”

My mouth gaped open. “You’ve never shown this to anyone?”

He shook his head. “You’re the first.”

“I feel more special now.”

He stared at the thick slab of paper between us.

“Can I ask you a few questions about it?”

“Fire away.”

Now that I had the floor, I asked questions about the story and his writing process. The characters were so well detailed they seemed to be real. His craftsmanship was timeless, but his story was so modern. It was disconcerting but impressive at the same time.

“I’ve always wanted to write a book so I did it. But now that I’ve done it, I’m ready to move on.”

My mouth fell open again. “But you’re a phenomenal writer.”

“Thank you for saying that. But I honestly don’t think I have the motivation to write another book. I put all my ideas and thoughts into this one piece. I don’t have any juice left.”

“Maybe you would feel differently if you sat down and gave it a try.”

He raised an eyebrow.

I knew I overstepped. “I’m sorry. I’m just an obsessive fan.”

“Do you write, Ana?”

“No…just read.” I didn’t have the talent or the patience to put something on paper. I could read stories and critique them—but that was it.

“Writing is a painful process. Every emotion your characters feel, you feel it too. It’s not something to take lightly. Perhaps if I were writing a comedy, I’d feel differently about it.”

“I couldn’t even begin to imagine…”

“Thank you for your interest, but I don’t think I’m going to share that with the world. It was a personal project. Something to check off my bucket list.”

“Then why did you submit it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I was curious to see what happened.”

“So you were never serious about publishing?”

“I wouldn’t say that. In the beginning I was. But after months with no response, I gave up on the idea.”

He submitted this months ago? “We receive a high volume of submissions every day. It’s difficult to get to each one in a timely manner.”

“I understand that,” he said. “But I’ve moved on with my life and stopped thinking about it.”

How did I change his mind? “I really think this could sell. I think this could be the next great American novel.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I’m no longer interested.”

There was something he wasn’t telling me. “May I ask why?”

“I don’t mean this in an offensive way so please don’t take it as such…”

I steeled my nerve and protected my ego.

“I don’t feel comfortable handing my story over to a publishing house. I’ve heard horror stories about it. Authors don’t have any input on the cover, the manuscript is changed against their will, and there’s always something in the fine print.”

“I don’t know where you’ve heard these stories, but I can promise you Grey Publishing House is nothing like that.”

He shrugged slightly, unresponsive. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. And truly, I’m flattered. But you’re wasting your time, Ana.” He grabbed the manuscript sitting on the table and tucked it under his arm. “Have a good day.” He excused himself and walked out, leaving me to stare at the wall where his head had been just a moment before.

***

When Christian walked in the door, I knew he was angry. That dark look was in his eyes, changing his them from gray to endless black. His jaw was tense and his shoulders were stiff.

“What?”

He stood with his arms by his sides.

I was still disappointed by losing a potential client. There was nothing I could offer him because he didn’t want anything. He was both infuriating and respectable. My mood had been sour all afternoon.

And now it was going to become even more sour.

I grabbed my purse and walked out with Christian walking beside me. His hands remained at his sides, and he didn’t wrap his arm around my waist like he normally would. He was keeping his distance—for a reason.

We got into the R8 at the street, and Taylor drove us to the restaurant. Christian rested his hands on his thighs and stared out the window. Like the weather was intentionally mirroring his emotions, it started to rain. Drops splattered against the window as we drove through the city. I tightened my jacket around me to fight the cold.

Without looking at me, Christian spoke. “Taylor, turn up the heat. Mrs. Grey is cold.”

Taylor did as he asked.

I could have asked myself. He didn’t need to be my voice. But I didn’t have the energy to argue. I needed to reserve it for whatever Christian had in mind.

We arrived at the restaurant and walked inside. The host immediately guided us to a table even though there were several people waiting in the lobby. We were guided to a private table near the back corner, away from prying eyes.

Chivalrous, he pulled out my chair and helped me sit down before he sat across from me. He ordered the wine without asking what I wanted, and he immediately ordered an appetizer on top of that. He was probably in a hurry to get this date over with.

A piano played in the background and filled the air in the restaurant with quiet tunes. People spoke together at nearby tables, and the sound of their knives and forks rubbed against the pristine dishes.

Christian stared at me hard—a nightmare deep in his eyes.

I held his gaze and refused to back down. The only way to deal with the beast was to look him in the eye and hold my ground.

He finally spoke, his voice heavy with disdain. “Who is he?”

Cryptic as ever. “Be more specific.”

“There’s more than one?” He didn’t touch his wine even though he would have normally finished half of it by now. “I don’t think taking you over my knee will be enough this time.”

“Spit it out, Christian.”

His eyes narrowed, both in heat and anger. “The man you had coffee with at 12:05.” His fingers rested on the table and he slowly drummed his fingers across the surface. The gesture was slight but just as threatening.

“He’s an author.” His jealousy and possessiveness would never disappear. As the wife and mother of his children, he was borderline insane. If someone even looked at me wrong, it rubbed him the wrong way.

“And you couldn’t speak to him at Grey Publishing House? You had to go out for a drink?”

“Not a drink. Coffee.”

“Last time I checked, coffee was a drink.”

I didn’t bother asking how he got his information. Taylor probably followed me—as instructed. “He’s not interested in publishing with us. I was trying to persuade him to change his mind.”

That was obviously the wrong thing to say because he looked angrier. “And you don’t have a secretary to do that? Other employees?”

“He wouldn’t meet with them. So I got involved.”

He tapped his knuckles harder. “And what did you accomplish?”

“Nothing.” Unfortunately. “He doesn’t want to publish his book at all. And that’s a shame because it’s one of the best books I’ve ever read.”

Christian was silent, his anger palpable.

“We talked for thirty minutes before he left. There’s nothing else to say.”

He wasn’t satisfied with that. It was clear in his eyes. “You should return to having your meetings in the conference room or in your office—not out in public on a date.”

“You should stop spying on me.”

His fingers froze. “I exercise control in all things, Ana. You know that.”

“I’m not a thing—you know that.”

He tilted his head slightly, impressed by what I said. “You’re my wife. You’re my possession. And I take care of things that belong to me.”

“Spying isn’t synonymous with caring for someone.”

“I wasn’t spying, Mrs. Grey.”

“If Taylor followed me and conveyed that information, then yes, you were spying.”

“There’s nothing wrong with keeping you safe.”

I finally took a sip of my wine, eager for the alcohol to kick in. “Can we have a nice dinner now? You’ve interrogated me enough.”

“You won’t see him again.” He narrowed his eyes, exerting his control subtly.

“Probably not.”

“Probably?” he asked coldly.

“If he changes his mind about the book, I’d love to have him as a client. He’s a young man but has the soul of someone decades beyond his age. It’s fascinating.”

“Fascinating?” His hand balled into a fist.

“You have no reason to be jealous, Christian. I wear my wedding ring everywhere I go. And most people recognize me as your wife anyway.”

“That’s the problem, Mrs. Grey. Most men don’t care.”

“And not every man is attracted to me.” I could tell Colton wasn’t. He viewed me as a nuisance.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Every man wants to fuck you—just the way I do.” He finally grabbed his wine and took a drink.

I watched his throat as the wine moved down it. He didn’t shave that morning and his five o’ clock shadow was coming in thick. “I’m done with this conversation.” I finally grabbed an oyster from the plate between us and tried to ignore his haughty stare.

“You’ll be punished for this later, Ana.”

I didn’t falter in my movements. “Then you should be punished for having beautiful employees like Andrea all over the place. This is a two-way street. I could easily be jealous of all the women in your life. But I’m not. If I can get over that, you can get over this.”

“Not the same thing.  You know I don’t care for blondes.”

“But they care for you.”

***

Phoebe fell asleep against my chest while I lay on the couch. The book was open in one hand, and I read the lines and tried to turn the page with my thumb. My other hand was tucked her bottom so she wouldn’t roll off.

Christian sat on the floor with Teddy. A race car track was in front of them, battery powered so the cars would drive around the track endlessly.

“Dad, you wanna race?”

Christian studied his son, seeing the gray eyes that matched his own. He was quiet with the children, observing them with thoughtfulness. Sometimes, he seemed distant, like he couldn’t comprehend they were truly in front of him. He watched every move he made before he interacted with them. “Sure.”

Teddy picked the red car, his favorite one. “This is mine.” He rolled it around the hardwood floor and accidentally let it slip under the couch.

Christian froze, his eyes wide open and a shadow of a thought passing across them. He stiffened noticeably, his eyes turning gray with pain.

“Stupid car.” Teddy crawled across the ground until he stuck his arm under the couch. He fished for his car until he pulled it out.

Christian didn’t move.

“What car are you going to race?” Teddy returned to the race track and set his car in the starting position.

Christian was silent.

Teddy looked up. “Daddy?”

Christian finally snapped out of it. “The blue one.” He grabbed the car and placed it beside Teddy’s.

“3…2…1…go!”

***

Christian got ready for bed. He wore his pajama bottoms without a shirt. His face was clean-shaven, but he still appeared rugged.

I closed the book I was reading and placed it on the nightstand. “What happened earlier?”

“Nothing.” He pulled back the covers and got into bed beside me. He stuck to his side of the bed, distant all over again.

“With the car. I saw your face.”

“You didn’t see anything.”

“Yes, I did.” I couldn’t read his mind, but I understood his moods. They infected the air around him, announcing his anger like a blaring alarm. “Why won’t you tell me?”

He stared at the ceiling while his hand rested on his stomach. “I remember playing with toy cars when I was with the crack whore. They were the only toys I had.” He fell silent, telling me that was all he was willing to share.

“You aren’t your mother.” I never wanted him to think such a thing. He was great with our two children. Some days he was closed off and the kids didn’t understand why, but most of the time, he was there—emotionally ready for them.

“I know, Ana. They say your demons die and your nightmares fade away…but they never do.”

I moved to his side of the bed and curled up against his side. I ran my fingers through the small patch of hair on his chest. I pressed my lips against his shoulder, wanting to comfort him in the only way I knew how.

Christian

“Mr. Grey.” Andrea opened the door to my office. She wore a skintight black dress and her hair was glossy with shine. She’d served me loyally for years. She kept her mouth shut and did her job.

But she never stopped staring.

“Yes?” I looked away from my open laptop and met her gaze. I was a busy man and couldn’t afford to waste time—not even a moment.

“There’s a man here to see you.”

I raised an eyebrow, unsatisfied with that answer. “That’s all you have for me?”

She kept her hand on the door like she was nervous. She didn’t like to displease me. I never raised my voice or behaved like anything less than a professional, but some people thought I was intimidating.

And they were right.

“He stopped by earlier this week, and when he didn’t have an appointment, we sent him away. But now he’s back. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to leave without a moment of your time. Should I call security?”

This didn’t bode well. “Does he have a name?”

She shook her head.

“No name?”

She shook her head again.

That was becoming more disturbing. I rubbed my fingers across my chin as I thought behind my eyes. “I’ll see him in thirty minutes.”

“Of course, Mr. Grey.” She walked out.

I had a strong suspicion whom it was. I received a letter in this office just a month ago. The content was disturbing because it opened the gateway to my past. I shut that door and locked it a long time ago.

But it was beginning to splinter.

I called Taylor and he answered before the first ring ended. “Mr. Grey?”

“I need you at the office—bring your gun.”

He didn’t ask a single question. He followed orders—like always. “Yes, sir.”

***

Taylor stood by the door, his arms resting at his sides. His gun hung on his hip and he could draw it at a moment’s notice. His primary job was to look after Ana. But I needed him in that moment.

Andrea opened the door and ushered my guest inside.

He was a man of average height. He had dark brown hair and fair skin. He was probably handsome at one time, but stress and a lifetime of bad choices had ruined his appearance. He looked far older than he probably was. The most disturbing part of all was his eyes.

They were identical to mine.

I didn’t rise from my desk to greet him. I didn’t offer a handshake to uninvited visitors. And this man definitely wasn’t invited. The only reason why I allowed him in my office was his obsessive behavior. If he wanted an audience with me, I’d rather him get it here—instead of at my home where my family slept.

I refused to speak first so I eyed him with my intimidating gaze. I was prepared for anything. On the outside, I appeared calm and indifferent. But inside, I was ready for war.

He stopped when he reached my desk, his eyes taking in my features with extreme detail. He examined my pristine suit and the watch on my wrist. He looked at my face as well as the dark hair on top of my head. He sized me up with interest. Threat was nowhere to be seen on his curious face.

“Thanks for seeing me.”

I hadn’t blinked since he walked inside. “You have my attention. What do you want?”

“You don’t know who I am. I thought I’d come here to—”

“I know who you are.” I hadn’t seen him once in my life, but the resemblance was too similar. As much as I wanted to deny it, I couldn’t. The truth was sitting right in front of me, a door to the past I wished could be forgotten. “If you expect money or connections, you’ll get neither. All you'll get is a short conversation before you’re back on the street.”

His expression didn’t change. “I don’t want money. I don’t want anything.”

I didn’t believe that for a second. “Then what? I’m a busy man. In case you haven’t noticed, I have a company to run.”

“I knew she was pregnant with you, but I didn’t stick around. I left because I couldn’t handle the responsibility. I paid for a night, but I got the burden of a lifetime out of it. By the time I changed my mind, you’d already been adopted.”

“And here we are, twenty-five years later.” He had this knowledge for decades but didn’t choose to act on it until now—for an obvious reason.

“It took me a while to find you because they changed your name. I didn’t get the right paperwork until recently.”

My birth name wasn’t Christian. It used to be something else. I didn’t want to know what it was. “Let me tell you something about me, since you don’t know a thing. I hate liars. And I hate liars who lie about lying even more.”

The hope slowly drained from his face when he realized how callous I was.

“You saw me on TV, a magazine, or some other form of media. You noticed the similarities in our gray eyes, the way our jaws are chiseled with constant distaste, and the slight curve of our noses at the tip. You decided to take a trip to Seattle to collect some kind of cut from your abandoned son. Now here you are—hoping I’m a fool.”

His shoulder tensed with the quiet insult.

“Now you’ve seen me. Now you’ve spoken to me. And now you can leave.” My eyes glanced at the door, commanding him to get out of my office before Taylor threw him out. “And thank you for wasting my time.”

***

The last few weeks had been a complete nightmare.

Ana was having coffee with a handsome author whose book she couldn’t stop thinking about, and my birth father was trying to reconnect with me. When his letter didn’t work, he decided to confront me in person.

Hopefully, that would be the end of it.

I didn’t owe that asshole anything. And for him to actually think I did was ludicrous. Maybe we shared the same despicable DNA, but that was the end of our connection. Grace and Carrick were my parents. They raised me with more love than I’d ever known.

This man had nothing to offer me.

I never even asked for his name.

Ana knew something was off. She saw it in my steel colored eyes, and the violent way I snapped at the slightest offense. I wanted to spend time in the playroom instead of our bedroom. My children wanted to spend time with me, but all I could think about was how unfit I was to be a parent.

My mother was a crack whore. My father was a loser.

Was I any better?

The only thing that comforted me was work. The numbers, the location, everything dulled the stress between my ears. I understood people and math. I understood how to run a company and delegated tasks to people. It was something I was unnaturally good at it.

So I worked even more.

I had an arrangement in Western Italy, a drop off location before my supplies were transferred across the Mediterranean and to the refugees of the Middle East. I had a contact there that I had a great deal in common with. Our relationship was based on friendship before it became business.

And I needed to get away.

When I came home from work, the children were already eating dinner at the table. Chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese. Mrs. Jones cooked for Teddy and Phoebe when Ana and I were at work. But the second Ana was home, she wanted to be in charge of everything related to the children. She wanted to be involved as much as possible.

She was a great mom.

“Hey.” Ana looked at me over the kitchen island. The second she looked at me, she knew something was wrong.

I didn’t bother hiding it.

“How was work?”

“Good. How was your day?” I came around the island and kissed her on the cheek. I forced myself to give her the affection she deserved. Just because my life was in the trenches didn’t mean she should be punished for it.

“Good.” She asked me what was wrong without asking me a single question.

I walked to the children at the table and kissed each of them. My hand ran through Teddy’s dark hair before I touched Phoebe’s cheek. She had the fairest skin—just like her mother.

“Daddy?” Teddy looked up at me, his dinner only half finished.

“Yes?” I would never get used to hearing that title. I was a father. I never knew my real father. And what I knew of my real mother, I hated. How did I behave like a good parent when neither one of my own had been around?

“Will you watch Power Rangers with me tonight?”

I needed my space. I needed my time to think about my problems. But I could never deny a request from my son—because I refused to be an asshole like my parents. “Of course.”

He returned to eating.

I walked away and headed upstairs to the bedroom. I wanted to shower and feel the warm water drip down my body. I just wanted a few moments in my life where nothing could find me. Ana understood my moods better than anyone. I couldn’t hide anything from her.

She appeared behind me when I entered our bedroom. “Christian.” The tone in her voice suggested I wasn’t going to get away with it this time. She’d given me enough space but now the reprieve was over. “What’s going on?”

           

“Nothing, Ana.” I kept my back to her as I pulled my tie off. I unbuttoned my jacket next and looked out the ornate windows that opened up to the bay. “I have a lot of things going on at work right now.”

“I don’t believe you.”

I turned around and stared her down. “We’re leaving for Italy tomorrow. I’ve already spoken with my parents, and they’ll take Phoebe and Teddy.”

“We’re going to Italy?” she asked in surprise.

“I need to go for work. There’s someone I need to see, and it’d be easier to speak with him in person.” I turned around and met her gaze. Slowly, I unbuttoned the front of my shirt until my chest was visible.

“I don’t know if I can leave tomorrow. I have work—”

“You can do whatever you want, Ana. You own that company.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t have things to do.”

“You’re coming with me. And that’s final.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s final?”

           

“I’m not leaving you behind.”

“How long?”

           

“Two weeks.”

“I’m not leaving our children for two weeks.”

“They’ll be with my mother. They’ll be fine. They love staying over there.”

“Even so—”

“I thought you’ve always wanted to go to Italy.”

“Of course,” she said. “It’s just sudden.”

“That’s how work can be.” I undid my watch and tossed it on the table. “We’ll leave in the afternoon so you’ll have time to prepare.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s bothering you? I know there’s something there.”

I would tell her eventually. But right now, I wasn’t ready to. It was something I wasn’t comfortable saying out loud. It was something I wasn’t ready to come to terms with. “I will. Just not tonight.”

<< Chapter 4  |  Chapter 6 >>

Christian

The private jet landed in Florence. Taylor retrieved the Jaguar waiting for us at the airport and placed all our bags inside. It was late in the evening of the following day. The time difference made us lose an entire twenty-four hours.

Ana had slept for most of the plane ride. She was a nervous flyer and preferred to sleep to make the time pass quicker.

I worked from my laptop and took care of an endless list of emails.

When we got into the car, Taylor drove us to our villa in Tuscany. The second we were settled in the backseat and were on the road, Ana turned to me. “Can we call your mother?”

“It’s five in the morning.” I wasn’t waking up my parents just to check on the kids. It could wait a few hours.

“She asked us to call her when we landed.”

“I’ll wait a few hours. She won’t know the difference.” I rested my hands on my thighs and looked out the window. As we pulled away from Florence and entered the countryside, the lights from the city faded away. When I looked at the sky, I could see the sea of stars. A mixture of yellow and white, they twinkled from the sky.

Ana dropped the argument and looked out her window. “I wish it was light out.”

“You’ll see a lot while we’re here.”

“And eat a lot—I hope.”

She was never a big eater, so I was grateful her attitude had been stirred by the possibility of fine Tuscan cuisine. “We will.”

Taylor drove west until we reached the small town just a few miles from the coast. We drove over the gravel driveway until we reached the entryway to the villa. All the lights were out because I hadn’t visited in over a year. But it would be spotless because the staff still took care of it. I instructed them to stock the kitchen with groceries so we wouldn’t have to worry about our meals.

Ana stared up at the house once we parked. “Wow…you own this place?”

She would never understand we were a single entity. My money and my assets were also hers. But she continued to keep her infuriating checking account with a few thousand bucks in it. She paid for her things with it and never used the platinum credit card I gave her.

It was annoying as fuck.

“We own this place.”

Ana turned her quiet eyes on me. “When did you buy it?”

“About five years ago.”

“I didn’t know you had a soft spot for Italy.”

“I usually have residences in places I frequent.” I got out of the car and watched Taylor grab our things. I grabbed the keys and unlocked the front door then turned on all the lights. It was sterile like I expected it to be, and constructed like the other villas in the small town. The house was ancient, hundreds of years old. But I loved the history.

Ana walked inside with her arms across her chest. She examined the room, looking at the entryway and the open kitchen. An old dining table sat near the window. White lace covered the drapes, and the original paintings that were in the house when I purchased it were still on the walls.

I watched her expression and took pride in her awestruck gaze. Ever since the first time I looked at her, I wanted to take care of her. I wanted to give her quality things and make her life privileged and easy. My wealth had no limit, and I could give her anything she wished. But there was a problem.

She didn’t want anything.

So I had to give her things without her knowing about it. “Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” she asked in surprise. “It’s beautiful. I feel like…I’m back in time.”

Taylor walked in and carried our bags to the bedroom upstairs. The place wasn’t as large as most of my estates. I bought it because of the rich history. The hardwood floor was the same as it was when I bought it. The granite counter tops hinted at fine age. And the wine in the rack was several hundreds years old.

It was a gem.

Taylor came to my side, being quiet as ever. “Anything else, sir?”

“No, thank you.” My eyes were glued to Ana.

“I’ll be in the guest house next door.” Taylor walked out and locked the door behind him.

Ana and I were finally alone, and it was nice to be unencumbered by our children. I loved both of them and protected them just as fiercely as I did Ana, but I liked it when it was just the two of us—and not just because I got to spank her. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love the smell. I can’t explain it.” She looked at the furniture in the living room. Everything was new but mimicked the style of the original couches and tables. “How old is it?”

“It was built in 1870. There’ve been some renovations since, but it’s very close to its original state.”

“Amazing.”

I almost smiled at her enthusiasm.

“What are we doing tomorrow?”

“Seeing my contact.”

“Where is he?”

“He lives at his estate just over the hillside. He owns a winery.”

“So he’s our neighbor?”

Not exactly. “We’re fifteen miles apart.”

“And what do you need to see him for?”

“Business.” I wouldn’t bore her with the details. Even my own employees were bored sometimes. All she needed to know was she was taken care of and would never have to worry about anything for as long as she lived. I would give her the world if she asked for it. Just a snap of her fingers, and I would hand it over on a silver platter.

“Then we should get some sleep. I slept all day on the plane, but I’m still tired.”

“I agree.” I hadn’t gotten any sleep on the plane. When my life was in the hands of someone else, I was constantly tense. The pilot was well educated and had decades of work experience, but I had serious control issues.

I needed to control everything.

She came to my side and threaded her arm through mine. She leaned in close to me, like she might kiss me on the neck. “How about we take a shower before bed?” Hesitance burned in her voice like she wasn’t sure if I would take the bait.

“I’d love to save water.”

***

Ana joined me for breakfast an hour after I cooked everything. I was always awake by seven no matter what time zone it was. I could never sleep in. A nightmare usually woke me even if my alarm didn’t.

“Morning.” She walked in wearing my shirt and sweatpants. She grabbed the mug of tea I made for her and took a sip.

“Morning.” I read the paper at the counter, a local paper in English.

She took a piece of toast and nibbled on it quietly. That was probably all she would eat—much to my annoyance. “Did you call your mother?”

“Yes. She sends her love.”

“And the kids?”

“I spoke to Teddy. He asked if I knew where his green car was.” I smiled at the memory. “Long story short, he doesn’t miss us.”

She chuckled. “He loves his grandparents—especially his Uncle Elliot.”

“Of course he does,” I said as I read the paper. “He’s a circus freak.”

           

“A circus freak?” she asked with a laugh.

“He’s a childish mess. No wonder the kids can relate to him so well.”

           

She sipped her tea with a smile on her face. “When do you think you’ll be done today?”

“When I’ll be done?” I set the paper down and looked at her. “You’re coming with me.”

“To your business meeting?” She didn’t hide her surprise.

“Where I go, you go. And he has a beautiful place in the midst of the vineyards. If you want to experience Italian culture, this is where we should go.”

“And he’s okay with that?”

“Of course. He wants to meet the woman I’ve settled down with.” When I first told him I got married, he didn’t believe me. He thought it was some strange joke that he couldn’t understand.

But it was the truth.

“Be ready in an hour.”

***

When we pulled up to the estate, Ana gasped quietly to herself. Like the villa we owned, the estate was the definition of Italian culture. Made of tan cobblestones with ivy along the walls, it shined with refinery.

The valet took the car, and we approached the large entryway. Large rustic doors greeted us, and they opened once we stepped on the threshold. I recognized the friendly face.

“Lars. It’s been too long.” I extended my hand.

           

He smiled before he shook my hand. “Far too long. We’re so pleased to have you in Master Barsetti’s home.” The older man greeted me with the same friendly smile. “I’m Lars, the butler. It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms…?”

“Mrs. Grey,” I answered for Ana. The impulse gripped me by the throat even though Lars was a well-behaved member of the staff. He wouldn’t even look at Ana wrong—unless he wanted to die.

“Of course.” He shook her hand before he released it. “Mr. Barsetti is waiting for you on the terrace.”

“Lead the way.” I grabbed Ana’s hand and held it in mine as we followed Lars to the other side of the house and to the terrace near the pool. The patio looked over the vineyards and to the nearby hills. Just on the other side was our villa.

Crow Barsetti sat at the table in jeans and a black t-shirt. His dark brown hair was cut short, and the muscles of his physique were noticeable. He was in pristine physical shape, always prepared for the unexpected—just as I was.

I was a man innately attracted to women, submissive women, but I wasn’t oblivious to his charms. Crow Barsetti was handsome, wealthy, and witty. We shared the same interests—and not just wine and business.

But also things that happened in the playroom.

When Crow heard our approach, he rose to his feet. He stood at my same height and had mocha colored eyes. There was a coldness in his look, like he could break your neck instantly. But he had a hint of warmth, like he would embrace you like a brother. “Mr. Grey. Glad you could make it.” Like always, he extended his hand.

           

I shook it. “Mr. Barsetti. Thank you for the invitation.”

He smiled slightly, only allowing it to reach the corners of his mouth. “Call me Crow.”

“Call me Christian.” We’d known each other long enough to abandon the formalities.

His eyes immediately moved to Ana, and he examined her with obvious detail. He picked up on the subtleties she tried to hide. She was uneasy, nervous. She was malleable, just like clay that could be molded into whatever you wanted. His eyes took in her brunette hair and fair skin. Everything happened in a heartbeat, but I knew what kind of thoughts entered his brain.

And he better shut them down now.

“So she is real.” He extended his hand to her. “The infamous Mrs. Grey. When he told he was married, I wasn’t sure if he was being truthful.”

Her breathing hitched and her cheeks flushed. She averted her eyes before she looked at him again, nervous and uncomfortable. “It’s nice to meet you…” She looked at the ground as she shook his hand.

           

She thought he was handsome. I could see it in her face.

I didn’t appreciate that.

“Call me, Ana,” she said. “And you have a lovely home.”

No, I don’t think so. “It’s Mrs. Grey. Call her nothing else.”

Crow knew me long enough to understand what I was really saying. “She’s off limits. No sharing. Got it.” He pulled out the chair for her, that cocky smile still on his lips. “Lars is about to serve lunch. I hope you’re both hungry.”

***

Lars took Ana on a tour of the grounds while we retired into Crow's study to talk. The fire roared in the hearth and the scotch was served on ice. Paintings hung on his walls, but I’d never seen anything like them. The object of the pictures were constructed with buttons and lace. They were strange—but beautiful.

Crow had distinctive taste and the house echoed that class. Everything was of fine Italian craftsmanship. We both had an appreciation for the more refined things in life. It wasn’t about the wealth or the power.

It was about the statement.

He took a long drink of his scotch before meeting my gaze. “The shipment leaves in three days’ time.”

“Good. Then we’re on schedule.”

“I’ve talked with the emperor of the border, and they said they’ll allow the ship through—because of the situation.”

I drank the cool scotch and felt it burn down my throat. I watched the flames dance and crunched the numbers in my head. Delivering food to the world’s poor was smart business—despite what Ana thought.

“I’ve got my weapons on board. They’ll fall into the right hands. The sooner they gain control of the government, the more stable the Middle East will be.”

“Good.” Crow and I weren’t all business, but it was equally important to both of us.

I knew what Crow was going to say next before he said it. “You really took a wife. I can’t believe it. She must be something special.” He clanked his glass against mine with a slight smirk on his face.

“She is.”

“I don’t know if I could ever give up my lifestyle. My playroom is locked at all times, but never unused.” He stirred the ice cubes in his glass before he took a drink.

“Who’s your submissive at the moment?” Despite the intimate conversation, I didn’t make eye contact. Looking someone in the eye was the best way to intimidate them. But Crow wasn’t easily intimidated—nor was I.

“No one. My most recent one left for The States. She’s there on business. It was about time the arrangement ended anyway.” He finished his glass and poured another. “She was getting…attached.”

Been there, done that.

“Was Ana your submissive?”

“Yes. No.”

He chuckled. “Interesting response.”

           

“I wanted her to be my submissive the moment I looked at her. She walked into my office for an interview with her university’s newspaper. After some dancing around, I got her to sign the paperwork. But I did a lot of things with her that I shouldn’t have.” If I hadn’t known Crow for so many years and shared the same interests, I wouldn’t be talking about this with him. He was just as dark as I was. In fact, darker and more intense. If I was a monster, then he was the devil.

“Such as?”

“Vanilla.”

Crow rested his long fingertips around the glass, the condensation starting to form. “I’ve never gone that far.”

“I slept with her.”

“In the same bed?”

           

My only response was a nod.

“Then she must have really worn you down.”

I smiled at the memory. “Actually, all of that happened on our first night together.”

Crow chuckled darkly, swirling his glass at the same time. “Damn.”

“The longer we were together, she wanted more. Dinner, a night out at the movies, romance...”

“Romance.” He shook his head. “I don’t do romance.”

I didn’t either—once upon a time.

“But she was a good submissive?”

“She satisfied me.” She didn’t yearn for it like the others did. There were a lot of hard limits she refused to compromise on. It took her some time to accept the pain as pleasure. But she did trust me—right from the beginning. “And I realized I actually loved her.”

When I said that word, Crow finally turned his dark eyes on me. They were deep and rich like the mahogany wood of his furniture with a hint of gold like the scotch. He rested his fingertips along his chin, taking the conversation to a new level. “Love.” He said the word like it was a curse. The derision and annoyance permeated the air. It was artificial but it still affected him. “Now that’s something I will never understand.”

           

I didn’t think I would understand it either. “When I couldn’t live without her, I knew.” Maybe those two feelings weren’t the same thing for everyone. But they were to me.

“My mom always used to say when I found the right woman I would become the right man. I didn’t believe her then, and I don’t believe her now. But if the infamous Mr. Grey has succumbed, then maybe none of us are safe.”

“It’s not so bad.” I’ve never struggled with monogamy. But I’ve struggled with obsession. Ana is the only woman who earned my infatuation. Something about the way she bit her lip and looked at me with innocence took me to a new level of passion. My craving for her was never subdued. In fact, it only grew in size. With the births of our two children, my adoration and protectiveness reached an all-time high.

“I’m happy for you. But I’d never be happy with that fate.” He finished his glass then left it on the table between us. “Every person I give a damn about dies.” He looked into the fire, his thoughts in a different place and a different time.

“How's Cane?” His brother and I had done business together before. His actions were dictated by his emotions. Crow was the rational one. He had solutions to problems before he even needed them. He absorbed his surroundings like a sponge but never gave his own thoughts away. He was exactly like me—the opposite side of the same coin.

“Being a shithead, like always.”

           

A chuckle escaped my throat unexpectedly. My mouth burned with the action. The only person who could make me smile was Ana. Crow and Elliot were the only people in the world who had the same ability—but dwarfed.

“He’s been taking care of his end of the business—when the women don’t get in the way.”

“Shares the same proclivities?”

“Not really. But he struggles to keep it in his pants when we’re in the middle of something important. That shithead always thinks with his dick. Me, only sometimes.”

After I finished my scotch, I set the empty glass on the counter. I’d had enough. I never drank too much because it reminded me of the Crack Whore. She was too busy smoking and drinking to care about me. I would never do the same to Ana and my children.

I didn’t mention Teddy and Phoebe. I didn’t speak of them to anyone associated with business. I didn’t speak of Ana either, but I could introduce her to Crow. But my children were a different matter altogether. I thought I was protective of Ana.

I was a million times worse with them.

He closed the decanter of scotch then turned his glass upside down. “Is there anything you need before the shipment is off?”

           

“Just a report.”

“Like always, you will have it, Mr. Grey.”

“And you will always deliver it, Mr. Barsetti.”

<< Chapter 5  |  Chapter 7 >>