Reviews from Chapter 8:

Shasha77: happy to see that someone is paying attention to the not-so-little details!

MrsAnastasiaGrey: are we all so lucky to literally be flies on the wall for that upcoming conversation?!

Sammyantha-Stump: Ana won't be too forgiving . . . but then again, who really is?

peachesgo: please don't skip! There are times when there's important details within a chapter that you won't want to miss. Besides, Ana may be committing one of the biggest sins but I guarantee there is someone doing something way worse . . .

Brennanite025: Christian is definitely a colossal jerk. But while Christian may be hiding something, there are other people who are just as guilty

Songs:

Gone by Bebe RexhaandConsequences by Camila Cabello

The big man is back again and Mommy is sleeping. Or maybe she's sick.

I hide, curling into a ball under the table. My fingers over my eyes, I see Mommy sleeping on the couch. She's on her tummy like she is when she has a tummy ache. Her hand is down on the green fuzzy rug holding her empty bag of medicine.

The mean man is wearing his stomp boots with the big shiny buckle that jingles when he walks.

"Wake up, Ella!"

The mean man pulls out his belt and starts to hit Mommy.

"Get up you fucked up bitch!"

Whack!

"Get up bitch! You dirty good-for-nothing whore! You and your little Maggot causin' me nothin' but problems!"

Mommy shakes as she cries, covering her head with her hands.

"I just need one more."

"You ain't gettin' nothin' you fucked up whore! Get your ass up, Ella! Or should I find Maggot?"

Mommy cries as the belt hits her skin, but she doesn't scream. She tucks her knees under her chin.

I cover my ears as the belt snaps, and then I close my eyes.

Stop.

Stop.

Stop.

The belt stops.

The stomp boots squeak before they stomp into the kitchen.

No.

No.

No.

He stoops down and grins at me.

"There you are, Maggot."

His breath stinks like those sticks out of the box with the camel and that brown juice.

"What? You got nothin' to say you little shit?"

I stay still.

His hand reaches out and grabs my shirt, dragging me out from my hiding spot. He turns me into my tummy—right over his knee. I know what's coming.

"For every hour your Momma ain't workin' I'm gonna beat your ass, you little shit!"

The belt whoosh's through the air—

I spine-chilling wail wakes me.

Fuck!

I'm drenched in sweat—panting—my heart racing a mile a minute.

Another nightmare after a night without Ana.

My Little One is gone.

I glance at the clock finding it's just after midnight. She's on the plane—she has been for a little over an hour and a half.

I take a deep breath, attempting to rid my mind and nostrils of the smell of the stale Camel cigarettes and the cheap bourbon the pimp loved so much.

Looking at the desk before me I see the pieces of the modeling kit laying scatter across the surface and the now empty bottle of Scotch rests beside them.

I run my hands down and over my face, rubbing the sleep from the corners of my eyes. Standing, I walk over to the bar and retrieve another bottle of scotch from the cabinet—not bothering with a glass.

I take a long swig as I walk the length of my office, gazing out the window at Seattle and the lights below. I stare down—wondering just how many days it will be until she's back in Seattle. If I can't see her this weekend, when?

You won't, you moron. She's not yours any longer—just as you are not hers.

I pull at the roots of my hair with one hand as I take a drink of bourbon with the left—catching my reflection in the window, my heart sinks.

What was I becoming? The woman had cheated on me with another individual. Man. Woman. It didn't matter at the end of the day. All that mattered, was that she had been unfaithful.

Hypocrite.

As if the universe is playing some cruel joke on me, the sound of the elevator below announces my wife's arrival.

I turn on my heel, moving across the room to my desk to busy myself. I would build the model and hope that she had the sense to head straight to bed without stopping by my office.

As I work on putting some of the pieces together I find myself focusing on my earlier conversation with Elliot.

"You've really fucked up this time."

The sight of my brother surprises me as he walks into my office carrying a brown cardboard box.

"Excuse me?"

"You've really fucked it all up. I mean sure, I've always knew you liked to fuck shot up. It's why you got into so much trouble all through high school. You beat the shit out of anyone who even looked at you. But—"

"Freshman year."

"What?" he asks blankly.

"I stopped fighting after I was a Freshman. I turned fifteen and I didn't fight after that summer. Well, not often."

"Right," he pauses, staring at me strangely for a few seconds before he continues. "Anyway. . . I'm used to seeing you fuck up. Even if it was eons ago. Yet somehow, you fucked it all up worse than ever before."

"Just get on with it, Elliot."

"You accused her of cheating on you."

"She did cheat on me."

"How do you know that for sure?"

"She gave me a damn STD—Chlamydia! Chlamydia, El!"

"And you swear that you didn't sleep with Leila?"

"What? No. What does that have to do with Ana cheating?"

Elliot finally drops the box on my desk and frowns in bewilderment.

"I sat with Ana at the doctor's office. She doesn't have Chlamydia, Christian."

"That's not possible. I went for my yearly physical. The doctor said it looked as if the infection had just started. I hadn't even noticed it until this morning. I'm sure with your record you've had it once or twice."

I pause, staring him down and feel my heart plummet at the realization.

"Why are you looking at me like that?

"You slept with her, didn't you? You were down there with Katherine all the damn time. Except she wasn't putting out was she? So you slept with Ana. That's why you freaked out when you discovered she had someone in her room. You lying, cheating—"

"Whoa! Slow the fuck down, Christian!" he yells, holding his hands up defensively. "One, I have never in my life slept with Ana. Two, I would never disrespect Katie that way. I love that girl. I have for a long time. One day, I plan on making her, my wife. Three, I was under the impression that Ana was a virgin. How could I possibly have slept with her?"

"You've slept with anything in a skirt in a thousand mile radius!"

"That brings me to my next point. I saw it. The morning of your wedding I teased you both. I told you that you had chosen the wrong sister. The mirth in your eyes that day . . ." I watch as he sighs and sadly shakes his head. "Four, you're my brother."

"Like that's supposed to be enough? Look at what Ana has done to Leila."

"Are you fucking kidding me? What Ana has done to Leila?" he scoffs. "Look at what Leila has done to Ana—to you!"

"What are you talking about?" I ask incredulously.

"Well, there's the fact that Ana told us all about the fire the morning of your wedding. A fire that—may I remind you—Leila set. Or did you just happen to forget that little fact?"

"I talked to Leila that day before the ceremony. She said that Ana started it for attention."

"What about being drugged? Or nearly raped?"

"She was jealous of Leila's boyfriends. She went after them all the time."

"A girl in high school was going after college-aged guys and yet, she was still a virgin when she slept with you?"

I feel the blood drain from my face as I sputter. "Just because she was fooling around with them doesn't mean—"

"Do you realize how stupid you sound?"

"She evidently has experience in screwing people over if she gave me a damn STD, Elliot! She deceived me this entire time! She's done plenty to Leila too."

"Ana hasn't done anything to Leila—except sleep with you! Which was your choice you dumb fuck! If anything Leila has done more damage to Ana. She's the one who has the damn STD you fuck face!"

My heart in my throat I stare at my brother like he's lost it.

"What did you just say?"

"Leila has Chlamydia. Not Ana—Leila."

"That's not—how—how do you know this?" I breathe.

"When Ana and I left, she asked for a ride to her uh—lady doctor."

"Dr. Greene—I made the appointment for her."

"Yeah! That was her name," he nods. "Anyway, I offered to go in with her. Honestly, I was thinking the worst. I thought she might be pregnant or something. So imagine my surprise when we walk in and Leila is standing there at the counter."

"Leila was at Dr. Greene's office?"

"Yeah, but that's not the worst part. Ana managed to get me to shut my mouth and we hid around the corner. She was asking about another prescription for her boyfriend," he pauses as if to give me a second to process his words. "Leila's cheating on you, Christian."

"You're positive?"

"Well, she said boyfriend and not husband. So we can only assume. But if you're really telling me the truth and you haven't slept with Leila . . ."

"I haven't. I swear."

He looks thoughtful for a moment as he plops down in a chair across from me.

"Dr. Greene hinted that it was an oral infection. Did you maybe, I don't know, pacify her? Let her think you were interested?"

"No, I haven't touched her. The last time was . . ." I pause as the realization hits me. "Fuck. I don't even know when. She's not on birth control so I've made a point to stay away from her."

"She's never made a move? Not even to throw you off from the fact that she's cheating?"

"No, but—unfuckingbelieveable," I mutter. "The night of her birthday we all went out to celebrate. Ana came back with us and—long story short—Leila was drunk and passed out. Ana and I had sex ten feet away from her in the same damn room."

"No shit!" he grins.

"Ana is . . . my little nymph is incredible . . . but that's not the point. The point is I woke up after having this amazing dream about Ana giving me head and Leila was right there. What if that's when she did it?"

"That makes the most sense," he frowns. "Did she look guilty?"

"Leila always looks guilty. Admittedly it's what first drew me to her. But then . . ." I trail off and look up to find Elliot studying me.

"Then you met Ana."

"Then I met Ana. She changed everything and I've fucked up a lot. I should never have married Leila. It was the worst mistake of my life. Thankfully we have an ironclad prenup. Remind me to thank dad."

"You do realize that even if you divorce her, you're going to have to work overtime to win Ana banana back, right?"

"You don't think she'll take me back?" I ask, finding that my voice sounds like I've swallowed sharp shards of glass.

"I think she's realized that she can't be your side piece. Ana's worth so much more than that. You literally tried to pay her like some low-grade hooker for three years of hard work."

I glance at the brown box reaping toxins in my office.

"That's the things I've given her."

"It is. Although, there's a wrapped present inside."

I motion for it and Elliot quickly retrieves it, handing it right to me.

I rip open the silver paper and gasp in surprise at what I find—a model kit for a Blanik L3 Glider with a note attached.

Christian,

This gift reminds me of happier times.

I'm so sorry we couldn't give each other what we both wanted.

xx,

A

"I fucked it up, El. There's no way I'm going to win her back."

"Well, little brother, you just never know what might happen.

The sound of the elevator wakes me from my reverie—and the telltale sound of Leila's stilettos echo across the floor.

I blink, refocusing on the glider.

"What are you doing?"

"Working."

"On a toy?"

"Its a model Blanik L3 Glider."

She makes a sound of disgust in the back of her throat as she walks further into the room.

"Ick, why?"

"It was a gift. Now, if you're done, I'd like some peace and quiet."

"Fine. I just wanted you to know that I'm going out with a few friends. I won't be back tonight."

"Fine."

"You're not even going to ask where too or who with?"

"Would you even bother to tell me the truth, anyway?" At her silence, I simply roll my eyes. "Take security with you. I'll see you whenever you get back."

It's silent for several moments until I hear her pick up the bottle sitting on my desk.

"Have you been drinking straight from the bottle?"

"What's it to you?" I snarl.

Looking up I notice her looking at the trash can beside the desk.

"Did you drink that one too?"

I simply shake my head at her in disgust before going back to work and she sighs in response.

"Should I call Elena?"

I drop what I'm doing to glare up at her.

"Excuse me?"

"It's just that you haven't behaved this way in a long time. Perhaps we need to visit the playroom. Elena could get you in the right mindset. You could let out your frustrations on my body. It would be like the good old days."

"If the good old days were so good, we would still be visiting them."

She stands up straight and slams the bottle down in front of me.

"You bastard!"

"Just go, Leila."

"Go? You just want me to go? You don't care what I'm about to go out and do?"

"No. Frankly, I wouldn't care if you packed your bags and never came back."

"We're married! I'm your wife!"

"Yes. Is that so horrible? You have access to an abundance of hard earned money and you can come and go as you please. Nothing is tying you down. You have no other commitments. Face it, Leila, we're in a marriage of convenience—except in this case, the only person who is convenienced here, is you."

"You're impossible."

"Fantastic. Tell me something I don't know."

"You're a selfish bastard, Grey. It's no wonder you jumped at that chance to marry me. No one else would be able to handle it," she sneers. "Expect maybe, Ana. She's just as fucked up as you are."

I stand, slamming my fists on the wooden surface before me as I roar. "GET. OUT!"

Leila shakes in her stilettos as she turns around and makes a run for it.

I look down at my desk before swiping all but two things off of it. Snatching the bottle of scotch I chug part of it down before looking around my office.

Spotting a wedding photo of me and Leila hanging upon the wall, I nearly vomit. Balling my hand into a fist, I punch the glass and watch as the glass shatters beneath my knuckles in a satisfying crunch.

In a haze, I then and stride out of my office, intent on finding and destroying every photo that included Leila.

I throw the frames into the wall, stomp the glass into the floor, and punch the larger frames over and over watching as my knuckles bleed.

As I drain the last drop of scotch out of the bottle, I stare at a lonesome painting hanging upon the wall next to the sliding door. It wasn't my taste and it had bothered me to look at it from the moment it was hung. It was loud, too bright—yet I had allowed the piece of trash to enter my home.

I take the bottle and shatter it against the wall before I take the jagged edges and begin to destroy the one painting I had allowed Leila to hang in the apartment. Swing after repetitive swing, until finally it comes crashing to the ground.

"Mr. Grey?"

I drop the bottle to the ground and turn to find Taylor standing at the edge of the room.

"Dr. Flynn is on his way, sir."

I shake my head in disgust.

"I only broke a few things. Dr. Flynn isn't wanted or needed. You're dismissed for the night."

"Sir, Mrs. Grey left over an hour ago."

I look up at the clock hanging on the wall and then down at my knuckles—bruised and bleeding with dried blood scattered across my skin.

I frown but shrug, choosing to ignore Taylor as I make my way out onto the balcony of Escala.

It was vast—the space below. Crowded, but vast. And bright—glowing beautifully against the dark night.

Anastasia would love it.

I shake the unwilling thought from my head.

She was gone. She had left me with ease. Not even bothering to look back to see if I would take her back.

Because I would have. I would have had to take her back into my arms. Anastasia Rose Steele was meant to be mine. She had been mine from the moment I had set eyes on her.

She would have been fifteen the first time, sitting in the new Esclavain a chair, waiting for her nails to dry—but I wouldn't talk to her until she was just nineteen.

She was beauty and in truth so pure—innocent. I knew from those blue doe eyes that I could never be good enough for her—so I walked out. And three years later, Elena introduced me to Leila.

The worst mistake of my life followed by an absolute angel in disguise. I wasn't good enough for my little nymph. I had never been and I never would be.

I stare down at the street below, watching the traffic as it inches by. So close, yet so far.

If I wasn't good enough for my Little One—or even for the likes of Leila and Elena—what was I good for? I was a fuck up. I always had been. Getting in the way. Nightmares. Not being able to hug the woman who saved me. Acting out. Getting into fights. Fucking my mothers best friend. Beating submissives until all I could see was red.

The world would have been a better place if I had been left to rot away with the crack whores decaying corpse.

"CHRISTIAN!"

I stand back, startled at the sound of Dr. Flynn's voice.

"Did you not hear me?"

"Sorry?"

"I said your name three times."

At my blank stare he sighs and takes a step closer.

"Why don't we go inside and get you cleaned up?"

"I think I'll stay here," I mutter as I attempt to look up at the sky.

"Well then, I'll sit out here with you until you're ready to come inside."

I frown at him.

"I'm not going to do that."

"Oh? Then what exactly are you planning to do? Pitch a tent perhaps?"

"No."

At my sullen tone, Dr. Flynn's expression grows weary.

"Christian, I must insist that you come inside so I may evaluate you while we get your hands cleaned up."

"Evaluate me?" I snort.

"Yes. I'll explain further if you step away from the railing and come inside with me."

I look down and find that I'm still nearly leaning over the edge—like a bucket of cold water has been thrown over my head, I take a step back and carefully walk over towards Dr. Flynn.

"Are you ready to come inside?"

I nod silently and he gestures for me to walk in front of him. Taylor stands just inside the door and Gail stands further in, just beyond the broken glass.

I stop in the middle of the room and survey the damage done.

Broken glass, pictures, tables, vases, and a lonesome bottle littered the floors.

When I say nothing, Taylor and John guide me over towards Gail.

"Let me take a look at your hands," she says calmly, cupping them in her own and wincing as she calculates the damage. "Let's get these cleaned up. Then we can decide if you need stitches or not."

I nod numbly, letting her guide me into the kitchen to sit at the bar with Taylor and John as my shadows.

I watch in silence as Gail collects bowls, towels, and a first aid kit from the pantry before proceeding to disinfect her ken hands. When she guides me over to the sink she sets one bowl down before turning on the water.

"Now I just want to run your hands beneath this water gently. We need to see if any glass shards are stuck—but we need the dried blood off first. Do you feel any glass in your skin?"

I flex my knuckles and shrug.

"I think I drank too much to feel much of anything."

The look I receive is one of sympathy before she guides my hands beneath the water.

At first, it stings, and I don't think any of us are surprised when a few tiny pieces of glass hit the metal bowl. But then, it soon feels soothing.

"Alright, keep this wrapped around your hands and go sit down," she instructs me as she wraps a soft towel around my hands.

I do as she says, aware that both John and Taylor are watching me curiously.

All too soon Gail begins dressing my hands and John clears his throat.

"Christian, how are you feeling right now?"

I shrug noncommittally, "Fine."

"You can talk when I finish with this. Let the man relax," Gail says sternly.

"Gail, sweetheart—"

"None of that, Jason Taylor!" she scolds. "Christian is upset. He has every right to be. I know John was called out of the goodness of your heart—but the evaluation can wait a few minutes. He's inside. He's safe. That's all that matters right this minute."

We're all silent for several minutes as Gail gently cleans each and every cut—until finally I ask the question I've been dreading.

"Has she ever brought someone home while I've been away?"

"GAIL!" Taylor scolds.

Gail tsks at us both before she shakes her head.

"Kind of hypocritical, don't you think?"

"She gave me an STD, Gail," I say lowly, earning a gasp from both her and John—of course Taylor knows. "I know that I've been having an affair throughout our entire marriage but I've only been with Ana. I was extremely careful and condoms were always used. With Leila, there's no telling how long this has been going on—or if it's one man or hundreds."

"I never witnessed Mrs. Grey bringing anyone else home. If I had, I would have informed Jason right away. But I will say this: she wasn't home much whenever you were gone."

I turn to Jason and he understands wordlessly.

"I'll coordinate with Welch and look into times and dates."

"I never should have allowed her to control her own security."

"Even if it was someone who listened to my word, chances are they would have become loyal to her anyway."

I stay silent, contemplating his words as Gail finishes wrapping my hands.

"When you go to bed, I have cool tea compresses in the fridge. I want you to take them and wrap them against your hands. They'll bring down the swelling and sooth them. Thankfully, you don't need stitching up. You should be grateful."

"I am," I nod solemnly. "Thank you, Gail," I add softly.

"You're very welcome."

"You don't have to clean this up. I'll call a cleaning crew to deal with it and to replace what was damaged."

"Thank you, Mr. Grey," she says kindly.

I glance at John and sigh.

"Let's survey my office. Then we can sit and talk in the library."

John follows me along to my office and when we step in I'm appalled to see just what I've done to it. Everything is on the floor except on critical item.

"I wonder, what was it that made you keep this plane on your desk out of everything else?"

"It's a glider. A Blanik L3 glider model."

"I see. What is it's significance, then?"

"It was a gift."

"I see," he says, rubbing his chin. "What had you been doing when you knocked everything to the ground—but the glider?"

"I was putting it together. Or at least I was until Leila walked in and we started fighting"

"About what exactly?"

"Her comings and goings. Our marriage in general. I admitted that it was a marriage of convenience solely for her benefit. She then proceeded to tell me that I settled for her because I'm a complete fuck up and that I was lucky to have her because no one—not even Ana—would want me."

"I see. What was your reaction to that?"

"I told her to get out. She was going out with friends anyway."

"You couldn't have called Ana?"

"No."

John frowns at me. "Why is that? Don't you normally call her when you and Leila have had a falling out?"

"Normally, yes. But I fucked it all up, John. Besides that, she doesn't care."

"How exactly did that happen? Why would you say she doesn't care?"

"i accused her of giving me the STD. Then I made matters even worse by throwing money in her face and basically calling her a paid whore."

"I see," he frowns and glances at me desk.

"This was a gift?" he asks, motioning towards the model glider.

"Yes."

"Any significance other than your love of flying?"

"I took Ana gliding once. It was one of our only real dates."

"It was from Ana, then?"

"Yes," I say hesitantly.

"She gave you a very thoughtful gift for someone who doesn't care."

I scowl at him as he surveys the damage done.

"I suppose she did."

"Perhaps you should have thought about that instead of letting Leila's words get to you so easily."

"Yes, I should have."

"Do you think her words influenced your actions here tonight?"

I look around the room again before I look down at my hands in front of me.

"Yes. The self-doubt, the loneliness . . . It led me back to a time before submissives—before Elena."

"Suicidal Ideation, again."

"Yes, I believe so," I murmur.

"It seems as if now that both Taylor and Gail catered to your needs, that you're content in where you are."

"Yes and no," I say thoughtfully. "While I don't feel hopeless in the sense of: where do I go? Or, how can I go on? I feel as if I've lost a major part of my life. A part that I may have lost for good judging by my words."

"Christian—"

"I'm not going to kill myself. I realize that I'm depressed, but I'm not suicidal in that sense."

"If you agree to an intense therapy schedule this week, I can agree to let you be for tonight."

I sigh and nod in agreement.

"Yes, I can agree with that. Although, I think tomorrow I'm going to rest."

"Go about your schedule as best as you can. Even if it's just having your usual breakfast and an intense workout."

"I'll go about my day as planned, then. It will be easier that way, " I pause and look at Dr. Flynn speculatively. "Do you think I should contact her tonight or tomorrow?"

"Who?" he asks raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Ana?"

"Yes."

"Give her time. I can only imagine how she's feeling right about now."

"What do you mean?"

"Christian, you've just made the girl out to be everything she ever feared becoming in your relationship."

"How would you know? You've never even met her."

"I didn't have to meet her to know. It's simple. She's essentially been your mistress for three years. Most people make a mistress out to be a money-grabbing-whore. Things—that from what you've told me—Ana is most definitely not."

"What if I've lost her for good?"

"Then you have time to make it right. If you really care for her as you claim too, then you can't keep acting as if she's your dirty little secret." At my lock of defeat, he claps me on the shoulder. "We'll discuss this more Tuesday morning at nine. Get some rest."

He walks out, leaving me in the room of disarray where I walk over to my desk.

I move the now finished glider to the very middle of the desk before retrieving my broken phone from the rubble amongst the floor.

"Sir?"

I turn to Taylor, acknowledging him before I speak.

"Tuesday morning I have an appointment with Flynn. Coordinate with Andrea. Get someone to clean this all up before tomorrow night—not Gail—and get me information and what Ana is doing in Texas. I'll be going about my day as usual, tomorrow. I also need a new phone first thing in the morning. Goodnight, Taylor."

"Goodnight, Mr. Grey."

P.R.E.T.T.Y.B.I.G.L.I.E.S

"Christian, darling."

Elena Lincoln stands before me practically purring as she grasps my elbows with her scarlet talons, as she kisses each of my cheeks with her equally red lips.

If I was fifteen, I would have been excited and completely terrified all rolled into one. At the age of twenty-seven, I'm resigned in the fact that this is what she expects—even if she isn't my Mistress.

"Elena."

"I already ordered the wine," she says distastefully. "I'm not sure why you've insisted on this place. It's not your usual."

"It's not The Mile High Club," is what she means to say.

"It's one of Anastasia's favorites," I say simply.

"Anastasia's?"

Her lip curls in disgust and she mutters her name.

"What does Leila's little sister have to do with your dining choices?"

"It's simply a place we order from when she's at the office for lunch. She enjoys it, hence so do I," I explain calmly as I examine the menu.

"I see. Anastasia comes for lunch often then?"

I tense, realizing my mistake too late until Flynn's words from last night come back to me.

"You can't keep acting as if she's your dirty little secret."

"Yes. Quite often, in fact."

"When did this start?" she asks, acting as if she has the right to be offended.

"Three years ago."

"W-What?" she sputters as the waiter enters with a bottle of wine.

Pouring it into my glass, he allows me to taste it before proceeding to fill both glasses at my approval.

As he makes his exit I look up at her.

"Anastasia and I are very close, Elena."

"When you say 'very close' you don't possibly mean . . ." At my expression of boredom she gasps. "Why when you have Leila? She's your perfect Submissive."

"Was. She was my Submissive and far from perfect. Anastasia is my more."

"More? More what?!" she exclaims, showing the most expression I've ever seen on her botoxed face in ten years.

"More. More of everything. The dinners, the conversation, the intimacy, the sex—"

"Sex? You've had sex with her?" she hisses.

"Yes."

"Dear God, boy! You've ruined everything! Leila—"

"Leila hasn't been a Submissive since list at the two and a half month mark after our wedding. We haven't even been intimate since our first wedding anniversary," I pause, thinking about the day Elena convinced me that Leila was ideal wife material because she was acting as the perfect submissive. "And now that I'm thinking about it, maybe none of that would have been so fucked up if you hadn't convinced me that Leila would make the perfect companion."

She scoffs as she takes a sip of her wine. "Please tell me, how is that my fault?"

"If I had waited, I would have found Ana again. She is my more."

Elena stares at me curiously as the waiter arrives to take our order.

"I'll have the Vine Ripened Heirloom Tomato Salad. Nothing else."

I roll my eyes as she orders before ordering my own meal.

"We'll start with the Dungeness Crab Cocktail and I'll have the Cappy's Spicy Cioppino. Thank you."

"What do you mean by again?" she asks as he makes a hasty retreat.

"I saw Anastasia long before I met her."

"When?" she asks curiously.

"At your salon."

"You saw Ana the day I introduced you to Leila?"

"No. It was years before. Esclava had just opened and I was dropping off paperwork. The receptionist at the time said you were in the office and I chose to leave the paperwork at the desk rather than go in. That's when I saw her."

"Saw her?"

"She was getting her nails done. She was—"

"Young," Elena says curiously. "Very young. In fact, I would say that she was just fifteen. I met Leila not long before that day. She was there searching for a Dom and brought Ana along under the pretense that they were 'bonding' like sisters."

Elena tilts her head to the side and her hair hardly moves—making me wonder for the first time if she's wearing a horrible wig.

"I wonder," she murmurs. "Did you approach her?"

"No," I say sternly. "She was gorgeous. I knew that from the very moment I laid eyes on her, but she was too young. Granted, I thought she was probably a year or two older than I suspected—but she wasn't. I didn't speak to her that day. She doesn't even know about it because I chose to leave. The next time I saw her was the minute after I had agreed to a three-month contract with Leila. I didn't speak to her for six more months."

"Why didn't you approach her after you met Leila and signed the contract? You could have easily broken it, darling."

"I saw her leave with Leila so I had my security advisor look into it. When I learned that she was just entering college I knew I had to stay away from her. She had no dating history and she was my current Submissives sister."

"So if not then, when did it start?"

"The night of my Bachelor party."

At Elena's look of utter shock, I laugh.

"Actually, that's when the sex started. The emotional affair started way sooner. At least on my end. I bought a few things from her at Clayton's one day."

"Clayton's?"

"A hardware store she worked at. I teased her. It was . . . gratifying. Rope, zip ties, that sort of thing," I shrug.

"So she knew?"

"She figured it out later. She seduced me a few weeks later after I brought her home from my Bachelor party. Then again, the night before my wedding. It's been going on ever since."

I choose not to tell her of our coat closet rendezvous the night of my wedding. That was ours.

"So you're happy?"

"Yes," I falter. "Or I was."

"What do you mean, darling?"

I hesitate as her hand covers mine, and I find myself pulling it away.

"We had a fight and she ran after I accused her of some not so very nice things. I—I'm lost without her. All I want is to have her back here where she belongs."

"I see, " she pauses. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you like this."

"Like what?" I ask irritably.

"Distracted maybe—dare I say—brokenhearted."

"Are my feelings that obvious?"

She nods, her eyes softening as her face remains expressionless. "Obvious to your Mistress, yes. Don't forget, I know you well Christian. I molded you into the man that you are."

"You're not my Mistress, Elena. You haven't been for a long time."

"Hmm, no I suppose I haven't. However, I still believe this girl has turned your world upside down. Go see her after dinner and bend her to your will."

"She's in Texas."

"Texas?"

"At first it was to have a few days to think, but now . . . I'm not sure how long she'll stay after I told her to never come back."

"Well, if she's as stubborn as Leila makes her out to be—as she seems to be . . ."

"She's disarming. It's not every day that someone talks to me the way she talks to me."

"Yes, I can see that. It must be novel," she smiles. "Knowing you as I do, I'm sure that you're wondering what she's doing and how's she's coping."

"I'm hoping to give her some room to breathe. Then when she's back I can sit down and talk go her."

"Oh! Nonsense! You should go to see her."

"What?" I ask incredulously.

"Get your jet ready and go see the girl. If she's so willing to be your Submissive then make her bend to your will. As a Dom your very persuasive, darling."

My snort of disbelief is evident as she shakes her head.

"I taught you to reign in control. Make her cater to your every need. Bring the girl home and put her in her place, right where she belongs. I imagine she would look quite appetizing kneeling before you like the pet she is." I stay silent at her shocking words and let her continue on her tyrant. "You'll be able to keep up appearances that way."

"How do you presume I do that?" I grit out, barely hiding the anger in my voice.

Oblivious, she carries on. "Oh, you know darling. Schmooze the inner circle and socialites with your darling wife on your arm and keep your pet chained up at home to play with during the evening hours," she smirks in silence as our dinner is set down before she continues. "You know, I bet that if you played your cards right Leila would be more than willing to play along. She's all but admitted it."

Leila was talking with Elena behind my back—about our sex life.

"That is her sister!" I spit in disgust.

"Half-sister. Schematics," she shrugs nonchalantly. "Besides, Leila has the upbringing our world caters too. It's one of the reasons I knew she was perfect for you. Ana was brought up in trailer parks."

"Ana has never lived in a trailer park. And so what if she had! Look at where I came from before my mother rescued me."

"Again, schematics. It's all in the details darling. Plus, Grace was barren. She had to do something to become a parent."

My phone buzzes in my pocket for the thousandth time during our meal and I retrieve it.

"Grey."

"It's Ros. I wanted to talk about the—"

"Is it urgent?"

"Well not precisely but—"

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"So you're stuck having dinner with some loser—or worse, Leila—and you'll call me back in the car?"

"Yes. See you then."

I hang up the phone and give Elena my best frown.

"Sorry about that. I have to go. It's urgent. Failed drop to Darfur," I say in a clipped tone.

"You can't even finish your meal?" she asks as I flag down the waiter.

"Afraid not."

"Sir?"

"I need this to-go and I'd like to settle the bill."

"Of course, Mr. Grey."

Elena frowns in distaste as he takes my plate and credit care before he heads off towards the kitchen.

"You're seriously leaving?"

"I don't have a choice. I have an empire to run."

"Well you're going to at least think about visiting the girl, aren't you? If it goes well, then you'll know. And if it doesn't, we can find someone more suitable for your and Leila's needs."

"I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask," she murmurs as her eyes flash with certainty.

As I see the waiter heading back I look at her.

"Please order whatever else you'd like," I say as I sign the bill and gather my food and card.

"Of course," she laughs and gives me what I think is supposed to be a flirty grin as I make my getaway.

P.R.E.T T.Y.B.I.G.L.I.E.S

"Christian, to what do I owe the pleasure? You're not canceling for tomorrow morning, are you?"

"No, John. I'm not. I just had an unsettling conversation over dinner and I'm trying to wrap my head around it."

"I see. May I ask who this dinner was with?"

"Elena."

"Ah."

I sigh, rolling my head back to rear as I swivel around in my chair inside my now-clean office.

"Am I to assume that it was disturbing in some way?"

"I was unsettled by what was suggested."

"Which was?"

"Well, to start off, I took what you told me into consideration so I told Elena about Ana."

"I'm sorry, you what?"

"Well, you said I shouldn't keep her a secret and—"

"I meant to tell someone like Elliot or your father. Even your grandfather! Not her."

"Why not her? Elena is my friend."

"We've discussed this Christian."

"Yes, you may be right."

"I'm sorry?"

"You may be right," I mutter. "Elena suggested that I keep Leila as my arm-piece and then said that Ana would make a good pet. For both of us."

"Both of you? As in you and Elena or you and Leila?" he asks sounding seemingly appalled.

"As in me and Leila."

"They're sisters."

"I reminded her of that and she didn't seem put off by it. She was trying to make Ana out to be something she's not. She even suggested that if Ana said no to me that she could find someone for Leila and I to play with."

"I see, and what do you think of all of that?"

"It's insane. Especially since she suggested I go to Texas to win Ana back. Which I'll definitely do as soon as I hear back from her security—"

"Whoa! Hold on, Christian. We discussed giving Ana space. If you chase after her you're only going to upset her."

A sharp knock on my office door causes me to look up.

"Mr. Grey, I've received the report about Miss Steele."

"John, I've got to go."

"Now, wait a minute. Think this through for a moment, Christian."

"It's just the report on what she's been up to in Texas."

"Can you wait on it? Read it and wait to make a decision until our appointment tomorrow morning?"

I sigh, contemplating his words as I look up at the clock. If I waited, I was really only losing twelve hours.

"Fine. I'll see you tomorrow at nine."

I end the call and look at Taylor expectantly.

"Welch is on the line."

I frown and pick up.

"Welch, what have you got for me?"

"Evening, sir. Miss Steele's grandmother—Mrs. Lambert—she's ill, Sir. According to security, Miss Steele arrived at the nursing home early this morning and only left when the doors closed. Taylor had me dig once we learned she was visiting a Hospice center."

"Hospice? Why wasn't Leila notified?"

"Yes, Mr. Grey. It seems that Mrs. Lambert only contacted Miss Steele."

"Ana knew she was sick?"

"According to emails, it looks like she was told her grandmother was in a nursing home. She looked taken by surprise when she discovered she was in Hospice."

"I want everything taken care of. If Ana can't afford it—"

"Mr. Grey, there's something else."

"What?" I growl.

"Has Mrs. Grey ever mentioned an inheritance to you?"

"She has one from her father but why—"

"Not from her father, Mr. Grey. I'm talking about from her grandmother. Or who she perceived to be her grandmother."

"No. According to Leila the woman was welcoming but made it clear that Ana was her family. Why?"

"Leila is set to receive a small lump sum from Mrs. Lambert's estate upon her death."

"And what? Ana gets nothing?"

"Not exactly, Sir. She's to receive Mrs. Lambert's entire fortune—her entire estate, really."

I sigh in relief.

"She'll be pleased. She mentioned the cottage before."

"Sir, there's not a cottage. There's a 152-acre estate, a stake in a real estate company that's very lucrative, and oil."

"Oil?"

"Oil. The Lambert family is in the oil business. They're mostly millionaires—but not Mrs. Lambert."

"What are you getting at?"

"Ana is set to inherit close to 3.2 billion dollars."

"W—What?" I ask breathlessly, looking at Taylor for confirmation.

"You heard me right. And I just got the word. She passed this afternoon. Ana was with her and is making arrangements in the morning. Should I get the jet ready?"

At the sight of Taylors furrowed brow, I shake my head.

"No. If she wants us there, she'll call. The Lambert's cut off contact with Leila when she and Greg left. In fact, I would bet my left leg she's put all of her funeral arrangements in her will."

"You're right. It just came in. Not one single person but Ana. Should I at least send flowers?"

"No. Make arrangements for permanent care to the gravesite. Ana won't think about it and she shouldn't have to. If she asks, make them tell her it's included. I'll tell her myself when it's time."

"Yes, Sir."

"Good work, Welch."

"Anything else?"

"Actually, there is one more thing. I want everything you can get on Elena Lincoln. I want it all."

"Yes, Mr. Grey."

I grin to myself as I comfortably lean back in my chair, admiring the glider now resting on the corner of it. If Leila was going to lie, cheat, steal, and coherence her way to the top with Elena Lincoln, she wasn't going to get away with it.

"And one more thing. I want you and Taylor working on this as a top priority. I plan on divorcing Leila and I want to know exactly what she's up too. Who she's fucking, what she's doing, when she's really working, why she's lying. Do not work with her security. I want them all tailed and I want the answers yesterday. Are we clear?" I ask, looking at Taylor as he nods his head in agreement.

"Crystal, Sir."

Let the games begin.

A Note from the Author:

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Hope you enjoyed Christian's POV.

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Recommended FanFiction: Sins of the Father by lanieloveu

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Sara Jo