Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.
Dseiladmnd – Thank you. Morton is the lowest of the low, but I have faith he'll get what is coming to him. :) Much Love x
Ellie – Thank you, my dear. I'm glad you liked it. Yes, what a psychopath! (But he's an interesting character to write!) Hope you like this one. Much Love x
LA – Thank you, LA! I'm really glad you liked the chapter. :) I hope you like this chapter, too. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts. Much Love x
SuzB – Thank you! I'm glad you agreed that Ana was the one in control in the previous chapter. I did that on purpose, and I hope all will become apparent soon! Hope you like this one. Much Love x
Chiquita/Karina – I am assuming you are both the same person, due to the remarkable similarities in your 'reviews'. However, I apologise if you are two separate individuals. Firstly, thank you for taking the time to remind me that it has been a month since I last updated. Strangely enough, as the writer of this story, I did already know this fact, but it's so kind of you to point it out to me. Normally I would have just deleted your 'reviews' but I wanted to offer you a reply. I am tired of having to justify my absence, so I'm going to do it anymore. It's well documented why I haven't been around as much recently - but if you need a reminder, please check the author's note on the previous chapter. I feel like I need to clarify one single fact for you: I will not stop writing any of my stories simply because you think I should. I write these stories for me and I upload them in the hope that a few people might enjoy them. If some people don't, that's fine. I can also assure you (not that I need to) that my lack of updates on this story has had nothing to do with me writing 'Maîtrise'. For your information, 'Maîtrise' has actually saved this story from abandonment several times, as it has given me the opportunity to stimulate my creativity in a different setting. I have had serious writer's block with this story for a while, and it is only recently that I've discovered how I want the story to unfold. I can't write something that isn't there, so instead of forcing shit updates on you all, I decided to wait until the inspiration struck me again. I'm grateful that you clearly enjoy this story enough to want it to be updated more frequently, however I think it's best if you find another writer who can satisfy you with regularly updates, while I continue just fine over here, with the support of my other (patient) readers. Thank you.
I just want to say thank you to those of you who haven't taken offense to my lack of updates. I am continually grateful for your patience.
I hope you like this chapter. I'll be back soon.
Much Love,
Chelsea x
Christian dropped his fork and pushed his plate aside, leaving the majority of his dinner untouched. He was quiet throughout our meal, only really focusing on Ted, who he cradled in the crook of his arm.
"Not hungry?" I asked him, finishing up my meal. I made dinner tonight, to save Gail the hassle. She was busy trying to prepare for Sophie's arrival; Taylor had arranged for his daughter to come stay with him for a few days, while her mom goes on vacation with her partner. I rummaged through the cabinets and refrigerator and settled for something simple – some leftover lasagne with a side salad.
"Sorry," Christian sighed, shaking his head. "It's not the food."
I nodded. Given Christian's past, whenever he says he's not hungry or doesn't finish a meal, I worry. He lifted Teddy and held him in front of his face. He pressed a kiss to Ted's cheek, causing him to blow out his lips and giggle. Christian has fawned over the baby since we picked him up from Ray's. It's heart-warming to see him so attentive with Ted, playing with him, kissing him, but I know it's just a distraction.
I cleared my plate and stacked his on top, before climbing down from the counter. Christian swivelled on his stool. I felt his eyes following me.
"I'll clean up," I said to him. I looked over my shoulder and gave him a quick smile. "Can you take Teddy upstairs and get him ready for his bath? I want to get him in his crib and asleep before he starts getting grumpy."
"Sure, no problem," he nodded and scooped Ted to rest against his chest. His brows furrowed. "You can leave the dishes –"
"I'll join you in a minute," I interrupted, nodding to him. He licked his lips and tilted his chin to the baby.
"Let's get you clean, little bear," he whispered, turning to move out into the hallway. I stared after them for a moment, waiting until they had disappeared upstairs before I hunched over the countertop and let out a heavy sigh.
I hate seeing Christian stressed out. All of this crap with Stephen, the file, the lies – it's pissed him off. Ros's words from earlier, about how my mood affects Christian's, are echoing at the back of my mind. It works the other way around, too. I wish I had a way to get rid of Stephen – a way to prove the contents of that file is utter trash. I know it is bullshit but the rest of the world won't. I don't care what anyone thinks but I don't want paparazzi stalking my house, stalking my family, my son. It'd be impossible to ignore a dozen cameras being shoved in my face every time I want to leave the house. I had enough of that when we got engaged. I won't put my son through that.
This needs to be nipped in the bud before it gets out of hand, I decided. I straightened my shoulders and filled my lungs. I quickly shoved everything into the dishwasher and knocked off the light. I headed for the closet at the front of the house and picked up my purse. I unzipped it and checked that Stephen's file is still in there. Christian didn't see me slip it in my bag before we left his office. I needed to bring it home with me. I wanted to know where it was at all times and now I want to rifle through it, decode every piece of information and find the snippets that reveal the truth.
I climbed the stairs and proceeded into the bedroom, following the sound of water splashing and my son gurgling. I left my purse on the bed and joined Christian in the bathroom. He's knelling on the floor, hovering over the bathtub. The water is shallow and foamy, with Teddy sitting in his bathing seat, an inquisitive look on his face.
Neither of them noticed me entering in behind them. Christian spoke softly to Ted, reassuring him as he rubbed in between his toes.
"Daddy has to get in all the little creases," he muttered. Ted grumbled a noise and tried to retract his foot, splashing water. Christian's sleeves are soaked, even though they are rolled up to his elbows. "Teddy… Okay, okay, you win. We're done."
Christian pulled the plug and lifted Ted from his seat. I stepped forward and quickly grabbed a towel from the counter, opening it up for him. Christian smiled and wrapped the baby up, swaddling him in the fluffy white fabric.
"He hates his toes being separated," he said to me, his hand rubbing up and down Ted's back. "He soaks me every time."
I offered to take Ted from him, giving Christian a chance to change out of his sodden shirt. His powder, ointment and clothes are already laid out on the bed. I always try to do this part as quickly as I can. The longer it takes to dress him, the more frustrated he becomes. He would rather be nude. We have a battle every time I change him. He kicks out at me and lifts his tiny fists to his face, defying me. He's two months' old but already a replica of his father.
"You're just a show off, aren't you?" I babbled over him as I tucked his arms into the sleeves of his pyjama set. "You are just like your daddy."
"I see more of you in him than me," Christian called out from the doorway. I twisted my head towards him and caught him sliding a t-shirt over his abdomen. "He has my hair," he shrugged.
"Are you kidding? He's your twin!" I raised Ted and turned him to face Christian. "He looks just like you. Seriously, look at the picture of you as a baby and then look at him. You'll see what I mean… Right, I'm going to feed him. Do you want to watch a movie later? We can veg out on the couch and -"
"I have an appointment with Flynn," he announced, his mouth twisting. His eyes softened and he glanced between me and the baby. "It's just a check. He wants to see how I'm doing."
"Oh…"
"Just how I'm finding fatherhood and stuff," he continued. "I need to be there in thirty minutes, but we can do something when I'm back."
I nodded and smiled to him.
Even though Christian is in a much better place now, excluding all of this new crap being dumped on us, he still has to attend monthly appointments with Flynn. The last thing any of us wants is a set-back. With him continuing with therapy, Flynn can ensure we're moving forward and continuing on the road we have fought so hard to stay on. One of his biggest concerns was that he would freak out over seeing me with the baby; that it would trigger something in him and he'd feel resentment over his lack of a caring birth mother. It hasn't happened and Flynn doesn't think it's likely to happen, but we're taking precautions.
"It's fine, don't worry about it," I told him, standing Teddy up on my thighs. "I didn't realise you had an appointment today."
He inhaled a slow breath and picked up his feet, striding towards us. He cupped the back of my head and kissed the space between my brows.
"I'll be about two hours," he said, giving me a second, more rushed kiss. "Do you need me to pick up anything on my way back?"
"No, I think we're okay," I shook my head and tilted my gaze up to him. "Are you going alone?"
"Yes."
"Be careful?" I begged quietly. He brought his palm to my cheek and rolled his thumb over the corner of my mouth.
"I always am. I love you."
"Love you, too."
He kissed the top of Teddy's forehead and then disappeared out of the bedroom, dragging the door to a close on his way out. Teddy turned his head towards the sound of the door closing and grunted.
"He'll be okay," I promised him. "Daddy just needs some alone time."
I nursed Teddy, cuddled him, and then put him down in his crib. I soothed him until he was fast asleep, slowly making my way out his room. I switched on his baby monitor, a top of the range piece of equipment. Like most things baby related, Christian chose the monitor based on extensive market research. The monitor is connected to a webcam hanging over Ted's crib, allowing us to keep an eye on him at all times. There's even a microphone built into it, so we can talk to him without having to rush into the nursery every time he's being fussy. Neither of us have taken advantage of that feature yet. I doubt Christian will ever use it. If Teddy makes any sort of noise, he's there in a flash.
I took myself off for a long, hot soak in the bath, using the time to read some of the book I've been trying to power through for past few days. It's the latest novel to be published at Grey Publishing, from a bestselling author we persuaded away from a different house. But regardless of the quality, I simply can't get into it. Stephen is stealing my focus like the leech he is. So I caved. I grabbed the file from my purse and emptied the contents across the bed. I organised everything into piles – pictures, bills, emails, cell phone records. I started with the stack of credit card statements.
The card is registered under Ms. Moninder Delaney-Gaskell, the payments dating back 'til November last year. I checked the list of expenses – lingerie, sex toys, restaurants, hotel bookings, airline tickets. I ignore the personal expenses, those could be for anything or anyone. I focus in, however, on the reservations for Seattle, Portland and New York hotels. Taking a pencil from inside one of the bedside cabinets, I struck off the New York hotels. Christian hasn't been to New York. There would be CCTV images of him in New York airports, and that could be easy to trace. The same goes for any of the other hotels. I scribbled the thought down on my notepad.
Wait a second… I circled the only Portland reservation. The Heathman Hotel. December 4th 2011. Something about it unsettles me. Why is the date significant to me? I lifted my cell phone and scrolled back to December in my calendar.
I was at The Heathman in December. My stomach churned as I closed my eyes and remembered the circumstances that took me to Portland. On the night of the benefit for Seattle Children's Hospital, I left Christian. I walked out on him. Our marriage was in tatters, destroyed by the constant secrets and lies, and the thought of Elena worming her way back into our lives. He presented me with divorce papers, ready to give me up if it meant I could be happy. It still saddens me to think that we came so close to giving up. We reconciled and fled to England for a make-or-break trip.
The benefit took place on the Friday evening, that much I am sure of. And from this, Moninder checked in two days later, on the fourth. She knew Christian was there. She must have been tracking his movements, which means she would know I was there too.
"Fucking bitch," I cursed under my breath. I rifled through the photographs and picked up the images of Christian leaving The Heathman. The first picture is of him exiting the building, his head turned off and looking down the sidewalk. In the second image, he's rounding the side of an SUV. She is hovering in the doorway of the hotel, staring at Christian, grinning proudly. I don't recall seeing her that day. I met Richard Lincoln that day.
I examined the second photograph for a while, checking every inch of the image. I cracked a smile and scratched a circle on the doorway, highlighting the dark, almost invisible picture of me emerging from the building. From a first glance, I'm impossible to notice, but eventually my image develops in front of me, along with my small, swollen stomach and my long dark hair.
"Gotcha!" I shook my head. "Just blown a hole in your plot, bitch."
Her check out date is a week after we are pictured leaving the hotel, when we were in our quaint cottage in England. There is nothing holding this claim together. If either of them tries to use this against us, we can prove them wrong in an instant.
I moved onto to her cell phone records. There are hundreds of calls and texts to a Seattle number, but it isn't Christian's. I know he doesn't have a second phone lying around somewhere. I've asked him to buy a second phone, but he refused. He said it would complicate things and he can function just perfectly with having just one phone for business and pleasure. I don't recognise this number staring back at me. I write it down in my notepad and make a note next to it. I need Taylor to check the number. It could belong to anyone, but I have a suspicion that if I dialled it, Stephen would answer in his all of his husky glory. Not for one second do I believe he's stayed in New York all this time. He could have been roaming Seattle since me and Christian got together, stalking us. That's what Linc did. He got away with it and I think Stephen could have done it, too.
There was nothing else in the phone records that brought any concern to me. But the emails were a different matter entirely. Christian only ever uses his GEH account, but this is a private email. I read through a sample of the replies, growing sicker with every word. It's not his voice I can hear, it is Stephen's. These replies alone could spell an enormity of trouble for us.
To: Moninder Delaney-Gaskell
Subject: Lunch Tomorrow?
Date: 05/29/2012 21:54:01
From: CTrevelyanGrey
I have booked a room at the Fairmont for tomorrow, the penthouse suite. I will be there from 12pm.
I can't wait to come in your mouth.
To: CTrevelyanGrey
Subject: Lunch Tomorrow?
Date: 05/29/2012 22:12:33
From: Moninder Delaney-Gaskell
Looking forward to it. You know how I love your cum.
I hope you're not too tired from daddy duty. I need to be fucked hard. I need you to fuck me harder than you've ever fucked that ugly wife of yours. I hate thinking of you having sex with her. Being with her, playing happy families. She doesn't make you happy. She can't give you what you need. I can.
Mon x
To: Moninder Delaney-Gaskell
Subject: Lunch Tomorrow?
Date: 05/29/2012 22:15:13
From: CTrevelyanGrey
I'm not having sex with her. I already told you that. I haven't fucked her since she had the baby. I can't stand to even be near her. The idea of putting my dick inside her makes me want to rip it off, and then feed it to a ravaged dog.
If it wasn't for the baby, I would have left her a long time ago. He's the only reason I'm still with her. I can't trust her to look after him if I'm not around. She's a fucking lunatic.
I will see you tomorrow. Make sure you're wet when you get there.
Don't be late.
To: CTrevelyanGrey
Subject: Can't stop thinking about you
Date: 06/10/2012 15:43:59
From: Moninder Delaney-Gaskell
I'm wearing nothing but the necklace you bought me. I can't stop touching myself, wishing your tongue was all over me.
When can I see you again?
To: Moninder Delaney-Gaskell
Subject: Can't stop thinking about you
Date: 06/10/2012 15:58:32
From: CTrevelyanGrey
Soon. I promise. I'm calling you in a minute. I need to hear your groans while you come.
I scrunched up the papers and threw them across the room. Taylor can deal with the emails. I don't even know where to start. How the hell are we supposed to prove that Christian doesn't have a private email? I don't even know if he's ever had a private email…
I feel helpless. I want to resolve this. I want to take the pressure off Christian but I don't know how. I don't have cast-iron proof that she's a lying whore. I can prove that Christian wasn't with her in The Heathman, but what about the others? What if the hotels refuse to provide CCTV footage? What if she pays them off and gets them to lie for her?
I dropped my head into my hands. Think… What do I have at my disposal? What can I use to blow all of this apart?
What would the media focus on? What would be there golden ticket?
"The pictures…" I lifted my head and stared down at the selection of photographs in front of me. When I scanned them earlier today, the most scandalous picture was of her up against a wall, with her legs wrapped around a copper-haired gentleman. I wish that was it. I later discovered explicit images from both her and a man who has no sense of self-maintenance.
Some of these pictures are of a different man. The naturist is definitely not my husband. He's not nearly big enough.
In some of them, however, Christian is most definitely present – the snaps of him leaving different stores, restaurants, his office. She is always there with him, or hot on his heels. I suspect they have been doctored and I know someone who can prove that for me.
I picked up my cell phone and dialled his number.
I haven't spoken to him in such a long time. I wouldn't blame him for rejecting my call. I've practically ignored his existence for the past six months.
"Hello?" he answered. I couldn't speak for a second. He answered. "Hello? Anyone there?"
"Oh… Hi," I gulped, pressing the phone to my ear.
"Who is this?"
"It's Ana?" I frowned. It took a moment for me to remember that I changed my number when Christian bought me a new phone. "Sorry, it's Ana Steele… Grey! Ana Grey."
"Wow…" he blew out a long sigh, sounding winded. "I think I need to sit down. Ana?"
"Yeah?"
"Jeez, I never thought I'd hear from you again," he chuckled. "I thought you'd fallen off the face of the earth."
"I'm sorry, José. I'm really sorry," I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I've been a really shit friend. I should have called sooner."
"It's fine," he cut me off. "Really, it's just great to hear from you. I've been thinking about you a lot recently. I tried to contact you but obviously you changed your number… I guess I realised that you've been busy, you know, now you're married and have a kid. You've moved on."
"I'm sorry," I apologised again. "And I'm sorry for calling you out of the blue."
"I'm glad you did -" I could hear a grin in his voice. "How are you? How's the baby?"
"We're good. He's getting big now," I told him. He hasn't even met Teddy. I felt a deeper pang of guilt in the pit of my stomach. "I'd love for you to meet him. The baby. His name is Theodore. We call him –"
"Teddy, right? Yeah, Ray's been bragging to everyone who'll listen," José laughed. "If he takes after you, he'll be a stunner when he's older… Listen, Ana, I'm kinda in the middle of something right now, but I'm free tomorrow if you want to meet?"
"Erm…"
"I'm in Seattle," he announced. "I have been for a while. I can meet you wherever you want. We can grab a coffee or something? You could bring Teddy with you."
"How long have you been in Seattle?" I asked, feeling confused. Ray hadn't mentioned anything about him being here. But then, Ray hasn't talked about José or his father for a while now.
"I'll tell you everything when I see you," he soothed me. "So, you free tomorrow?"
"Yeah, I am," I nodded. "Are you free in the morning?"
"For you, I'm free all day. Just text me a place and time, yeah? We can have a catch up… and you can tell me the reason you called. You need my help, right?"
"José –" my voice cracked. He could always sense when I needed some help. It was the whole 'I don't see you that way' thing that he struggled with.
"I know you, Ana. You haven't called for a friendly chit-chat. We'll talk about it over breakfast tomorrow."
"Thank you," I muttered. "See you tomorrow."
"Adios mi amigo. Hasta mañana!"
José ended the call.
It's wrong to call him now, only when I need his help, but I don't have anyone else I can turn to. I need his knowledge and, if I'm being honest, I just need to see a friendly face.
I closed the file and shut everything inside the top drawer of my bedside cabinet. I don't want to look at it for the rest of the night. I need to check on my son and then relax.
I opened up a blank text message and typed a quick message to Christian. I know he's still with Flynn, but I know he'll pick it up when he's done.
Just to say that I love you very much and I will stand proudly at your side through every obstacle thrown our way. Alpha Charlie Tango. Forever. Love, your Ana xxx
1:34am.
I grabbed the alarm clock and turned it in my direction, to check the time. I sighed and rolled over, falling into the empty space behind me.
"Every time…"
I threw back the sheets and heaved myself out of the bed, slamming my feet into the carpet. I waited until the room stopped spinning before getting up, heading off to find Christian.
I know where he'll be, and I know why he's not currently lying in bed beside me, lightly snoring… Okay, he doesn't snore, but still, he should be here.
Peering my head around the nursery door, I checked on Teddy before going downstairs. His mobile is still swinging and playing a soft rendition of 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.' Christian must have reset it; it should have stopped by now.
I shuffled slowly through the house, until I came to his office, the door open ajar. I pushed through the gap and took a moment to look at him. He's hunched forward over his desk, his elbows resting on the top, with his head firmly pressed into the palms of his hands. He gently shook his head from side to side and grumbled something under his breath.
I carefully made my way over to him, not wanting to scare him or irritate him further. I know by now that storming in, unannounced, on a wound up Christian Grey is never a good idea. His language can be atrocious at times. I reached the far corner of his desk before he snapped his head up and stared at me.
"Hey," his shoulders sagged and he dropped back into his chair. He sucked in a shaky breath. "What are you doing out of bed?"
"I could ask you the same thing," I muttered, continuing forward. I perched on the only clear space on his desk. It's covered in papers and empty cups. "What's up?"
"I couldn't sleep," he arched his neck.
"Did you have a nightmare?"
"No," he shook his head. "No, that's not it… I just couldn't switch off. I have too much on my mind."
"I think I can help you with that…"
I leaned over him and slipped my hands around the back of his neck, holding him steady while I climbed onto his lap. I straddled him, my feet barely skimming the floor. He groaned as I rocked my hips into his groin and dropped my head onto his shoulder. I pecked a kiss to the side of his neck and followed the length of his jaw, until I found his mouth.
"Let me distract you," I whispered. "I'm pretty good at that."
He cracked a smirk. "You are. Thank you."
He snaked his arms around me and pinned me close to him, his cheek nuzzling against mine. I gave him a minute of silence before I started asking questions.
"So what's on your mind right now? Is it something to do with your appointment with Flynn?"
"No, that was fine. It was good to catch-up with him today," he shook his head. "Everything's okay in that department. I haven't had any flashbacks for a while."
"That's good."
"It's this shit with Morton," he confirmed, his voice low and gruff. "I finally spoke to Welch."
"Oh –"
After our meeting with Stephen, we searched GEH high and low for Welch, but he was no one to be seen. It was only once we'd returned to Christian's office that we were informed he'd been called out to a neighbouring company, to carry out urgent repairs to the network. By this point, I was itching to get back to Teddy. We left without any further information, which didn't add to Christian's already foul mood.
"What did he say?"
"He managed to crack the code on the remainder of Morton's files," he started. He peeled his head from mine and looked me in the eye. "Some of them were dual encrypted, which is why it took longer than expected… But what he found was irrelevant. The bastard set up a firewall against pointless, empty documents. He tried threw us off… Welch did a search and discovered that the contents of the computer had been backed up on an external device and then wiped from his account. He's got everything copied on a separate hard-drive. The contents of that fucking file is still out there."
"I think –"
"He thinks he can win," Christian grinded his teeth together. "I will break his legs. But first, I need to find that fucking hard-drive."
"I think I know where it is," I managed to get the whole sentence out this time.
Christian cocked his head to the side and frowned at me, waiting for me to elaborate.
"Moninder," I told him. "He'll have given it to her."
"Do you think he'd be that stupid to trust her with it?"
"It's not stupid at all, just think about it," I leaned away, pressing my hands into his neck as I rocked backwards. "If she's half as conniving and deceitful as him, she would want copies for herself. Collateral… He could just as easily screw her over and scam her out of her share of the money. If she's in charge of everything, he's beholden to her. Without her, he has nothing – no story to sell, no documents to pass onto the press. Even if he had the pictures, he still needs her to back up his claims. And she really doesn't strike me as the kind of woman who'd let some asshat take charge of something so important."
Christian closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
"It's just a theory," I mumbled. I puckered my lips and offered him a kiss, easing him out of his low. "I could be talking through my ass."
"No, it's a good suggestion," he said, slowly pushing his tongue into my mouth. "I'll get Ros onto it. See if she can track her down."
"You've only met her once, haven't you?" I asked. He nodded. "Okay."
"Why?"
"I just wanted to be sure," I told him.
He pulled his lips away.
"You do believe me, don't you?" his brows lowered and his eyes softened.
"Of course, I do," I said without hesitation. "Christian, I'm not trying to trip you up, I just wanted to be sure. I've been thinking about the photographs. In some of them, the two of you appear to be at the same place, at the same time."
"They must have been photoshopped," he told me. "I've only met her once, and that was at the AAM conference."
"And I believe you," I brought my hands around to his front. I worked my palms into his t-shirt, massaging his upper chest. "Baby, why are you so uptight over it? Do you really think I'd believe him over you?"
"I'm terrified of losing you, Ana, especially over something that's complete bullshit," he said quietly. I narrowed my gaze with confusion. "I know how your mind works. At first, you shrug things off, but eventually it needles away at you until it's all you can think about. Once you start fixating and obsessing, that's when your imagination runs away with you and you begin to question everything."
"What?"
"Even now, you still question why I chose you over the billions of other women around the world," he continued. "I know you still do it. No matter how many times I love you, you still question it. Not my love, but the reasons behind it… I chose you because I love you. I loved you from the very start, I just didn't understand it at first. I love you with every last fibre of my body and soul. I love all you, including the parts you don't like."
"Even my toes?"
"Especially your toes," he nodded. "You're the only woman for me and the very thought of you thinking otherwise, makes me feel… I can't even describe how it makes me feel. I don't want anyone else. I don't need anyone else. If I had known you were out there, waiting for me, I would never have bothered with anyone else. I would have waited for you."
"You did," I nodded back to me. "I'm the first woman you ever made love to."
He smiled and brushed my hair back behind my ears.
"You are the only woman to have ever shared my bed," he reminded me. "The only woman I have ever introduced to my family… I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and only you. I want to grow old with you. I want to have more babies with you. I want to watch our children have children, and their children have children… I want to be buried inside you for the rest of my existence, because your love allows me believe that I can take on any challenge thrown my way. Knowing that I have you by my side, I feel more confident than a million men put together."
"Christian…"
"Ana, if you live to be a hundred years old, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day," his throat bobbed. "Because the thought of living a single day without you is too painful."
I rolled my lips inward to save them from trembling. My eyes stung with tears and my throat burned. I shook my head and forced a laugh.
He lifted his hand to my jaw and held my cheek in the warmth of his palm.
"You're stuck with me. I'm not going anywhere," he continued. "But it would kill me if you ever thought I was capable of doing that to you."
"I don't," I promised, shaking my head vehemently. I breathed in as much air as my lungs could take. "Shit, you really love, don't you?"
"Just a bit," he smiled, stroking my lip with the tip of his thumb. "And I will happily spend the rest of life showing you just how much I love you."
"Can we start right now?"
"It'd be my pleasure," he eased forward and brought his lips to mine. He gave me a slow, calculated kiss – just a little pressure, his tongue shyly teasing mine from inside my mouth. "We can work our way through the cases."
"Third is my limit, for now," I muttered. His hands slid down my spine.
"Third happens to be my new favourite," he pushed off his seat and staggered to his feet, keeping me against him. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and draped my arms over his shoulders.
"I believe you," I whispered in his ear, before sucking hard on his lobe. He moaned a grateful sound. "We will get through this shit."
"I know," he replied, carrying me out into the hallway.
"I will get to the bottom of this. I'll make sure we have proof it's all just a sick and twisted attempt at blackmail." I promised, both to him and myself. I'm more determined than ever. "I'll find a way out of this. Let me investigate the file."
"Shall I start calling you Columbo now?" he teased, trying to deflect. I played along with him. I don't want another argument.
"Call me whatever you like, baby," I smacked a loud kiss to his cheek. "You'll be screaming my name later."
"I think you'll find that's my line," he gripped my behind and jolted me higher up his chest. "The only investigation I'm interested in right now is the one involving your panties."
"I'm not wearing any," I confessed. "But I'm warning you, it could get a little messy. The blood -"
"Not a problem, Columbo," he started to make his way up the staircase, his hold never wavering.
"That's reassuring to hear, Indiana."
"Indiana?" he stopped mid-step, and jerked his head back. "Why Indiana?"
"As in Indiana Jones," I explained. "You know, because you're –"
"Going to be digging around in your lingerie?"
"No, because you're good with a whip," I corrected him.
He laughed from deep inside his stomach.
"We don't have a whip, but we have a flogger," he pouted. "Is that close enough?"
"I suppose it'll have to do," I shook my head with mock disappointment. "We'll have to keep the noise down, though. We can't wake the baby."
"Never…"