Chapter Two

'I'd like to go Christian, I know you said you'd prefer we keep to ourselves while here but she's real nice, not what you'd expect', I smile sweetly knotting my fingers.

His eyes narrow but not too much, 'what way'.

'Gosh…..how to describe her', I pause.

'Descriptive nouns packed up on you baby', a hint of a smile, I mock pout, 'sorry only joking', he takes my hands effectively un-knotting my fingers and squeezes them apologetically.

'I know', I smile, 'but it's hard to', visualizing long straight silvery hued blonde hair in a simple ponytail, elf-like face, a small scar to the corner of an equally small mouth, large bright violet colored eyes dancing with life, and a petite fragile frame with womanly curves, 'Christian it's like she was dropped from the heavens and damaged a wing on landing'.

Pulling me down and into the best place on the planet, his lap, I curl up, rest my head on his broad shoulder, 'very descriptive...Ana baby heaven was generous dropping you...you smell so good, like an English rose', he purrs nuzzles my hair, I giggle and tousle his copper bronzed just-fucked-hair, 'accept the invite', he adds in a knowing tone.

'You know something...what do you know Christian...tell me...stop distracting me', his hand is caressing my calve edging its way up to my thigh beneath the hemline of my cream linen fitted dress, quivers flutter.

'I did some investigating, the Earl privately owns and runs the Rochester Corporation based in Canary Wharf, remember our honeymoon, the Fair Lady', I blush peck his lips in answer, 'we commented on being Super Rich'.

My head pops up, 'is he the Sir somebody or other who owns the Fair Lady'.

Shaking his head in amusement, 'no baby and I'm talking about wealth, we're Super Rich, he's Supersonic Rich, while in London I got Sawyer to drive by Rochester Corporation's HQ, impressive'.

'Grander than Grey House', I quip.

'No', a near pout, 'different', then a grin, 'tell me what else she said', I do stroking his chiseled jawline, he listened intently then eyes alight, 'her half-brother's a New Yorker, did she say what his surname is'.

'No…..oh but it must be Stenning, maiden name's Jones, Rochester her married, I overheard her telling Taylor', I smile picturing her doing so in giggles, 'why Christian'.

'Jesus Christ', he laughs and rolls his eyes in irony, 'when the Supersonic Rich marry they find their kind. If the same guy, Tristan Stenning is CEO of the Stenning Corporation, not a big as Rochester's but not far behind'.

'Really Christian you make us sound like paupers', l laugh and kiss his full soft mouth.

Held blissfully tighter in his arms, 'we're definitely no paupers Ana', a fevered kiss then lips spread to a grin against mine, 'bed, now, I want to christen ours a third time', everything south of my waist quickens.


Laughing my head off running around our suite in my underwear Ethan in hot pursuit in just a towel wrapped around his waist, 'where did you get the feather duster', I squawk captured happily in his arms.

'From an obliging member of staff on her rounds', he grins wolfishly.

Grazing gently the fiery red opals beads of his right barbell nipple piercing, 'she must have thought hell was freezing over his Lordship taking it upon himself to dust the ornaments'.

Inclining his head, full sculptured lips part sexily, cupid's bow dips, dark brown eyes darken further and flicker heatedly, 'ummmmm…..I know of one ornament in much need of dusting, reliably informed it is gathering cobwebs', no control I burst out laughing, 'amusement indeed my Lady', oh boy, recognising the change of tone, pelvis tightens, nipples tauten, 'once clear of cobwebs I shall utilise this', circling the duster once in the air, 'to teach owner of cobwebs not to test my patience in matters where SD is concerned'.

Gulping in delicious trepidation, intentions of practicing for the first time my knot skills on him dissipate, 'fair enough but can owner of cobwebs have a kiss first', slowly he shakes his head no in answer, with both hands I reach up and grasp soft, lush, black raven hair and give the biggest pout ever, puppy dog eyes attached.

In a quick move my arms by his are locked behind my back, the handle of the duster in his hand hurts my wrist, a hot mouth sensually crushes against mine, teasingly his tongue probes then teeth nip my bottom lip, 'endure your punishment first my Lady then I shall blissfully kiss you all over'.

Quivers ripple from my head to my toes, 'hang on Rochester, in order for me to accept this deal you're going to have to throw in cooking supper as well', mischievously I grin wriggle from his hold and run to the bed hearing his glorious hearty laughter.


'Christian', I scream my release.

'Oh Ana', he roars his then collapses by my side, 'country air', he pants, we laugh, entwine and reach full sated calm by lovingly and sensually kissing.

'That was nice, more than nice', I grin.

'I aim to please Mrs Grey', he chuckles, the English air and countryside suits him, his humor's buoyant, imagining him wearing tweeds and deerstalker on a hunt, not likely, Christian is anti-guns. Fleetingly I wonder does the Earl partake in country pursuits, must do if the saddle of venison is to go by and I'm curious, very curious, what he looks like, his personality and business acumen.

'Can't say a cent, so a penny for them', Christian murmurs staring into my eyes.

'Does Mrs Jones know how to roast venison', I lie not wanting to get Christian's back up, all the reassurances in the world wouldn't erase his insecurities and what little time we're able to spend here I'd love it to be a fantasy escape, a permanent reminder of the beginning of our honeymoon, 'Christian take me to London tomorrow...afternoon tea at the Ritz...oh and Harrods, we've got to buy something for the Rochester's'.

'Whatever you want baby', running his nose down mine making me quiver, 'nap time before dinner', but his tone implies something else.


Mulling over supper last night, 'a bloody disaster', I huff slamming the Gorenje fridge door shut, Tri and Mina brought their troubles with them, said nothing but it was brewing, only upside Ethan cooked a lovely meal, 'he's a dab hand turning bubble and squeak into a gourmet dish'. Abandoning a box of Coco Pops as into the family kitchen Tri trundles wearing mismatched pj's, blonde hair arseways to Sunday, blue eyes bleary. Arguing all night I suspect, I give him a hug and basically pitch him to the nearest chair, 'espresso you look like you could do with one'

'A double', he groans, oh dear, hungover as well, I quick step it to the Jura, place a cup under the nozzle and hit the button, 'where's Ethan', he asks head in hands.

'On Orpheus galloping around the Estate Mr Fallows on Bounty I reckon trying to keep up', I can't help grinning, Ethan's horsemanship is astounding, like everything else about him, except for one flaw, he's absolutely tone deaf, not a note in his perfect head, giggles erupt.

'What's so funny pixy girl', another groan, no…..enough of this.

'You Tristan', I snap, he looks at me, eyes now alert.

'You only call me Tristan when you're hacked off with me Sis', sad tone, bloody hell.

Bringing over the full to the brim tiny cup, 'look Tri, we're family, welcome in each others homes at a drop of a hat but it's obvious your visit is because of Mina's decision'.

'That's the size of it', he slurps the coffee.

'What's Cam's view', I ask sitting next to him.

'Vi you know my Mom and Geoffrey, wisely staying clear so is Ethan, which my honey is even more upset about', he sighs, 'I can't justly create a VP position, I'd have department heads making waves, Mina doesn't see that'.

I sigh, grab a digestive biscuit from the packet on the table, munch and think, 'is Myer still head of Stenning PR', I ask mouth full.

'Yeah, got us out of some fine scrapes', he grins, rolling my eyes, he sure did, collateral damage of Mina's party hopping in every celebrity hotspot in New York drawing unwanted publicity.

'I'm not saying this to offend you or Mina...she loves the limelight', he rolls his eyes in recognition, 'but she's got real talent, natural flair so what if Myer were to channel it for the good, instil responsible welcome publicity. His executive assistant, now I mean right up there executive', I wink.

The Fourth of July expression lights up his handsome face, 'omigod you are some genius pixy girl', we bear hug.

'I have my moments but no brewing arguments about to explode ok, especially during the dinner party tomorrow night, the Greys accepted, Mrs Grey rang earlier and I don't want them thinking they've entered a lunatic asylum or the fifth circle of hell'.

'Gotcha…..by the way he's a cool guy, delved, on the QT does a lot for charity, Darfur as it happens, business wise solid, ethical'.

'Brill, you both have things in common, my next problem finding a dinner partner for Ari, if I can pull that off I will say I'm a genius', I relay Tuesday's conversation with Ethan regarding Mr Cleary.

Draining his coffee, eyes scrunch up in thought, 'sorry hun, gotta agree with Ethan...what about the dude giving her the eye at the Ball June gone...hells bells what was he name, tallish, distinguished, white iris in his tux lapel'.

Racking my brain munching another biscuit, he comes to mind, 'Tri you're the genius', I splutter crumbs, 'he's a widower of three years', he laughs, 'oh that wasn't very nice was it...no matter I'll explain to my maker it was for the good but don't tell Ethan ok'.

'Why not', he asks quizzically.

'Well using Ethan's terminology, Lord Richard Castleton why given a superpower on this earth I cannot fathom, that of, the ability to bore anyone he converses with to the point of death', Tri nearly falls off the chair laughing, well I did mock lovingly Ethan's accent.

'Pixy girl, you're so going to hell', he hoots.

'Well aware of that Tri', I grin, get up skip my way to the cosy den adjacent to the kitchen close the door with phone calls well in mind.

Half hour later grin wider, Michelle said Gabe is coming over from Naples for the weekend and their up for it. Ari said what she observed of Lord Castleton at the Ball he appears gentlemanly, worth getting to know and will wear her stunning moss green silk dress she wore in Amalfi, 'perfect, showcases her greenish brown eyes to perfection', I sigh.

Also, when a butler put my call through Lord Castleton exclaimed what an honour, how enthralling he finds Miss Granger then banged on for a good three minutes about shedding leaves clogging the shoots of Morton Abbey, 'no worries Rich, Ari will unclog your shoots for you', bursting into laughter I ring the bell chord for Mrs Whitaker, 'definitely need her efficiency now', yeah…..and be gracious Violet...ok...stop nagging.


Admiring a set of eight cut crystal tumblers, 'Ana', Christian slides his arm around my waist, 'my opinion, Hillingham Hall has tumblers tumbling out of it', he grins then un-Christian-Grey-like stumbles against me and glowers at the person who stumbled into him, a blonde super model adorned in a sable fur coat, I roll my eyes.

'I do apologise, crowds in Harrods on a Thursday afternoon, what has the world come to', an English upper class voice chirps, a tall striking blonde haired man, who reminds me of Ethan grasps her hand, 'you ok my honey', and glowers at Christian, she nods in a fluster, yes lady, this is my sexy hot husband.

'Crowds, no harm done', Christian grasps my hand.

'Pardon me Sir, I heard you make mention of Hillingham Hall', an accusatorial tone, what's this bitches problem, 'I wish to inform it is not open to the public', she eyes the tumblers, 'and if were gifts would not be required'.

Anger rising in Christian is palpable, 'how do you know, work for the British Tourist Board', oh no, tone eerily low.

'Look man she knows ok, no need to be an ass', the guy's tone steely.

'Matter of fact Sir I do, my cousin is the Seventh Earl of Hillingham', she snaps.

A smile crosses Christian's lips, 'in that case dinner tomorrow night will be tumbler free, nice to meet you Mr and Mrs Stenning, my wife Mrs Anastasia Grey', offering his free hand to her, distractedly she shakes it, expression who, what dinner.

'Cool dude', Mr Stenning grins handsomely offers his to Christian, he shakes it in CEO mode, Mr Stenning offers his hand to me, briefly I shake it and feel the friendly warm vibes emanating from him, 'really great to meet you guys, Violet my sister said you bought a house in the village, small world, aint that so Mina honey'.

'Indeed', she ekes a smile, 'getting smaller by the minute', and adds under her breath, holey moley, if she's anything to go by Christian won't like Earl Hillingham, shame because I like Violet, down to earth, reminds me of me.

'So far we're pleased with Manor house, some changes here and there', Christian replies cordially but he's still angry.

'Oh Manor house', surprised tone, 'ah...to advise, it is a grade two listed building therefore changes be they here or there could prove problematic. As I recall old lady Hitchmore was refused a Satellite dish on the west chimney, personally rather unfair I thought denying the poor woman her fill of re runs of the X Files'.

Containing laughter, Violet was right regarding the late Ms Hitchmore, Christian eyes me quizzically, 'until tomorrow night then', he nods, Mr Stenning smiles genuinely Mrs Stenning strained politeness.

'Should be a good night', he grins, 'ok my honey let's go', nods all round they depart, Christian sighs.

'Ok Christian she's a snob but Mr Stenning's nice', I edge him away from the set of tumblers that could possibly never see a drink poured into them.

'How nice', oh uh, tone back to eerily low.

'For God's sake Christian, nice in the sense he's a Saint putting up with his wife', I snap, he laughs.

'As ever point well-made Mrs Grey', he brings my hand up to his sexy mouth and kisses each knuckle in turn, 'any ideas what to buy the Rochester's'.

'No but when all else fails an expensive ornament', I grin.

'Fine by me but not spending more than ten thousand…Dollars not Sterling', he adds, I sigh inwardly so unlike Christian to be ungenerous.


Thoroughly enjoying a second delicious cucumber, cream cheese, dill, and chive sandwich in the opulent surroundings of The Ritz, 'England suits you Ana', Christian smiles, 'and your appetite'.

'Because we're together', I mumble with my mouth full, sip a glass of pink Bollinger, swallow and tell him my thoughts of how I wish our time here to be.

'Pure escapism, fantasy', tone distant, he sips a coffee, 'Ana', he hesitates, I squeeze his knee urging him to continue, he sighs, 'initially I was hesitant buying Manor house, part of me feared once you saw it and the country lifestyle you wouldn't want to go back home', oh no, eyes troubled, fearful, insecure.

'Christian take what I said at face value, I love you, our homes', I smile reassuringly then wink, 'running SIP and I wouldn't swop what we have for all the Twinning's Morning tea in England', his relief visible.

A curious expression crosses his too beautiful face, 'what does your new found friend Violet do besides rattling around Hillingham Hall'.

Shrugging my shoulders, 'she implied it's a job in itself', a speculative expression replaces curiosity, about to speak he stops, an overly helpful waitress appears, gazes at him and asks if the afternoon tea is to his liking, no urge to eye roll because I'm ravenous and pluck a delicate ham sandwich from the tiered stand but I do grin smugly.


Hand in hand strolling through where we married, his Mum's rose and herb garden, rest her soul and his Dad's, stoically roses bushes are yielding the last of their blooms, 'your new neighbour acquaintance Mrs Grey, your thoughts Violet', he asks quietly.

'Lovely Ethan, so nice, friendly, not up her own arse...stunning...like she was created by the gods in charge of, well, creating the beautiful people', I gush.

'My, my, high praise indeed', he utters and guides to the dainty white wrought iron bench where we sat and signed the registry book and sit now, 'you are not cold dearest'.

'No', I lie, denying the early evening nip in the air to spoil this peaceful moment, lean against him and rest my head on his broad shoulder, 'Ethan'.

'Yes Violet', a strong protective arm goes across my shoulders, I'm slipped under his Barbour jacket and feel instant warm from his thin knit sweater clad chest.

'Going to say this outright ok', gathering muster, 'due to the army of staff who really run our home I've little to do, so can I please do just a few hours in the shop or tearoom with Ari and Michelle, I'll go nuts, around the loopey tree otherwise', from nowhere sobs burst, 'I've been lying to you, I do a few hours'.

'My angel', so gently he gathers me up and into the most wondrous place in the world, his lap, 'I am well aware of your few hours as you put it', a thumb softly wipes away tears, 'there, there angel, an unwise man indeed who cannot change his opinion therefore do as many hours as you see fit and minus Miss Lane'.

'Thanks Ethan, thanks so much', with wet cheeks and mouth I kiss my Lord Wonderful's mouth and am rewarded by a deep, loving, long slow kiss in return.

Once over, a happy sigh from me but an odd expression I've never seen grips a face that could start a war between women, 'thank you my most beloved', a mere murmur.

'What for', I ask confused.

'Marrying me in the knowledge I could not love, give true intimacy, kiss your sweet mouth, hold your warm hand, slumber by your side', taking my hand a finger traces my wedding ring tattoo, 'bravery, fortitude indeed, for more is contained in this one little angel digit than anyone I have ever known or care to'.

Dumbstuck, "follow your heart and dreams, sad person in life who doesn't, love and be loved my blued eyed one, your Dad and me are watching over you", my Mum's voice filters into my mind and if I could hear Ethan's Mum's I just know she'd say, "love my one and only child", 'I love you', comes out of my mouth and the sound is whipped away by a chilly gust and warm soft lips.


Not often I preen in front of a mirror but I am, loving the teal silk gown Christian bought me in Harrods yesterday along with a limited edition Jack Row paper knife for the Rochester's, for just under ten thousand dollars and a helpful sales assistant gift wrapped it saying it can be sent to Hillingham Hall within the hour. And why did I get the feeling Lord and Lady Rochester are frequent customers I giggle and swish the demure train of Halston mastery, a designer I've not worn before.

'Wow baby you look hot', Christian wearing a sharp cut Armani evening suit, crisp white dress shirt and black tie he purchased, we didn't pack eveningwear for our trip, smiles and shares my reflection then looks around our sumptuous master suite I spent all day tweaking into heritage perfection, 'like what you've done', smiles a wry one, 'Mr Darcy's not going to jump out of that wardrobe is he, shirt wet from swimming in his lake'.

Giggles burst, 'no he's too busy wooing Miss Elizabeth Bennet', swept into his arms ardent kisses to my cheeks, mouth, neck and naked shoulders, 'glad to hear it', lips murmur against my naked collar bones just above where another surprise gift rests, a simple classic four carat teardrop diamond pendant. Suavely he releases me and offers his arm in a flourish, 'Mrs Grey allow me to escort you to Hillingham Hall', another wry smile.


Popping my head round the glass wall of the double shower, 'hurry up sudsing your bits and bobs it's quarter to seven, cocktails for Pete's sake', I squeal in a tizzy, the ferocious look I give stops him from playfully splashing water at me, 'and by the way', grinning deviously, 'I plucked someone for Ari, Lord Castleton as I speak is picking her up at the shop in his Rolls', I scoot from the bathroom before he explodes.

Belting across our bedroom, I halt, gravitate to the ornate cheval mirror, 'not bad, I suppose', judging the reflection, 'hair's a mess but what can you do', the pale silver flowing gown's plain as are the matching low heeled Mary Jane's, I picked them up in a quirky vintage boutique in Brighton last, racking brain, 'May, no time to dawdle move your arse Violet'.

Momentarily I consider asking a senior member of staff to fetch my engagement ring from the vault, 'no they're busy enough, I've no time to do it...can't remember the bloody combination anyway', leaving our suite, I hurtle to the main staircase like one possessed.

Lamping down to the third floor I crash into Tri, 'at least you're ready', I snap then smile, handsome as ever, wearing a trendy dark grey evening suit, white shirt and black tie.

'Hells bells Vi slow down...you look great', he grins takes my arm and forces me to descend the stairs at a more ladylike pace, 'remember escorting you down these for your first ever Ball'.

Vividly, only fifteen months ago, then I was Ethan's companion, in his home, his sanctuary, where he's at one with, no, I don't want to think about that weekend and how it ended, 'yeah, I do', as we make our way my eyes drift to high hanging portraits of Ethan's parents and ancestor's. Eyes drift to the newest, my Mum, Olivia, mine and Tri's Dad, Patrick and Tri's Mum and stepdad Camilla and Geoff.

Ethan had my Mum and Dad's done from photos he robbed from my photo album even before I agreed to be his wife. The day I blustered into Hillingham Hall after travelling from Cork to return his Mum's engagement ring that he left on the breakfast bar in my cottage flashes in my mind. I caved, agreed to be his wife after he confessed to the thievery and showed me the portraits, course I caved because I never stopped loving him.

Reaching the first floor landing Tri stops, holds me in his arms, expression brotherly concern, 'hey pixy girl, everything ok'.

'Sure yeah', I smile but mind goes back to fifteen months ago and gets stuck there, movements down in the hall distract, crap, Mr Murray, a senior member of staff is greeting Mr and Mrs Grey, 'Tri do the honours with me please, Ethan's taking so long he could be sucked down the shower drain at this stage', I force a giggle.

Taking my hand he grins, 'sure hun, I got your back', we descend the stairs, in a whisper he tells me about Harrods all I can do is roll my eyes, fifth circle of hell.


'Welcome Anastasia, thanks so much for the gift, we love it, Ethan collects letter openers', a shaky tone accompanied by a shaking held out hand, she's anxious, not the same bubbly person when she called Wednesday morning.

'We're glad you do, Violet my husband Christian'.

'Oh', her eyes dart in all directions, 'nice to meet you Mr Grey, you both know Tri...Tristan…..from Harrods…lovely isn't it'.

'Nice to meet you Violet', Christian's tone amused his held out hand is shaken in a fluster, oh no...not you Violet falling for the Christian Grey effect.

'Yeah Harrods is great', Mr Stenning grins exchanging handshakes, 'pixy girl library for cocktails yeah'.

'All set up', she mumbles and nods to the liveried butler who greeted us, my eyes soak up every detail of the magnificent hall predominated by a central staircase that splits in two and leads to at least four floors, portraits going back centuries adorn Georgian period walls.

At the rear of the hall behind the staircase I wonder what room the double height elegant double doors conceal, the butler is escorting to a set on the far right, breath catches as we enter a vast beautiful library containing books upon books housed in mahogany glass fronted cabinets, two more liveried staff are waiting by an elegant drinks table, Christian nonchalantly looks around but I can tell he's impressed.


Lord above, no clue why his flickering grey eyes unnerve but they do, there's something about him, dark vibes, staff serve their choice of cocktails, Anastasia a Bellini, Mr Grey a whiskey on the rocks, Tri's fixing his own Dirty Martini, 'I'm sorry Ethan's running late, earlier we had a scare with one of the horses, Orpheus, fetlock, the vet was called but he's grand, sleeping', will you stop rambling like an idiot Violet.

'No need to apologize, we're unfashionably early', she smiles, sweet divine, she's so beautiful, they're a stunning couple and you couldn't deny Mr Grey is very handsome in that I've just walked off the catwalk in Milan way.

'Do you keep horses', Tri asks them.

'No, not our thing, is it Ana', a dazzling smile.

'Definitely not Tristan, horses and I don't get along', she grins at Tri, uh oh, I don't think Mr Grey liked that judging by the brief look of annoyance.

Flounces of crimson satin and chiffon ensue as Mina enters the library, 'good evening all, hello again Mr and Mrs Grey', they don't get a chance to reply, 'Violet where is Ethie I wish to converse he has put me off all day'.

'Delayed, you look lovely this evening', an eye roll I get, no matter how hard I try for Ethan and Tri's sake Mina and me will never be like sisters.

'Bellini with Bollinger please I care no longer for Cristal', haughtily she orders, a dreaded awkward silence drags on for what seems like and age, Tri's about to open his gob, stops, a member of staff ushers in Gabe and Michelle, I sigh in relief and smile.

Gabe's wearing his trademark skinny guy jeans, Converses, tee and trendy black biker jacket, his diamond stud earrings sparkle as bright as Anastasia's pendent. Michelle is simply amazing in a flowing pale pink dress that showcases her curvaceous figure elegantly and her light auburn hair is piled skilfully on top of her head.

'Anastasia, Mr Grey this is Michelle Parker and Gabriel Leonie-Fitzsimon', I make the introduction, cordially they greet, hands shakes, air kissing, Gabe grins, 'Mina babe Tristan mate not divorced yet I see after Tinkerbelle', Mina huffs, Tri holds in laughter, the Grey's look confused, Michelle's stifling a grin.

Rolling my eyes, 'Gabriel dun da bhéal and get a drink down you', I tell him to shut his gob in Irish.

'Bejazus Vi it's crankier you getting...what...up the duff', he wisecracks, discreetly I stick my tongue out at him, Tri's more successful opening his gob this time and makes conversation with Mr Grey, Anastasia strikes up one with Michelle and Mina, I down my Bellini battling nerves that refuse to untangle.

We're all on our second cocktail when Ari and Lord Castleton are ushered in, 'oh jazus no...no...not that bore', laughingly Gabe mutters under his breath.

'Shut the fuck up', under my breath I hiss, where the bloody hell is Ethan, emerged from someone's shower drain in Australia, in retrospect I don't think the mix of people is going to work.

Another round of introductions are made, Ari hugs me, 'ah Seattle Mr Grey, the Space Needle, a rather pleasing luncheon I believe back in nineteen ninety three, no I must correct, four, then again was it five, tuna, sourced directly from Pike Place Market', oh no, Lord Castleton collared Mr Grey, I give Tri the eye, he interjects and plies Lord Castleton with a very large Scotch with very little Soda.