UPDATE AUGUST 2018: Thank you for taking the time to open up this story and welcome back to those of you who have already read it before. If you are new, I have a few things I should address before you start reading.

I first wrote this story in 2012 - SIX YEARS AGO! - and this was the first piece of creative writing I had ever tried my hand at. There are MISTAKES, there are GRAMMATICAL ERRORS, there will be PLOT HOLES. If you are easily offended by these, STOP READING NOW. Do not use the guest feature to simply criticise and try to bolster your own intelligence. I am fully aware of these mistakes but I have neither the time nor inclination to go back through this story and edit it.

This stands as a snapshot of the writer I was back in 2012, when I was 19 years old. I have developed and refined my style, which I think is best reflected in my more recent work.

Able to excuse silly errors and the such? I hope you enjoy what this story has to offer you.

Thank you again.

Much Love,

Chelsea x

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except original characters. No copyright infringement intended.

I barely made it to the bathroom this time. I mean having an en-suite is helpful, but only if I can untangle myself from the bed-sheets, leap frog off the bed and run into the bathroom, ready to projectile vomit the contents of my stomach down the toilet.

As I watch the reminder of my dinner from last night flush away down the porcelain, I rest my head of the side of the toilet. The coolness is freshening; why do you always feel ridiculously hot after you puke your stomach up? I feel my insides slowly returning to normality when hunger sets in. These days if I don't eat within an hour of waking up I feel light-headed, disorientated and even weaker than usual. At least Christian is happy that I'm eating regularly, especially considering that a few months ago I could barely take a bite out of something before having to spit it out, along with the lining of my delicate stomach. Nowadays I am fitting in work around my eating habits: I have breakfast at home, courtesy of Mrs Jones, I have lunch brought to me in my office, usually with a selection of candy to satisfy my ridiculous cravings, and ninety per cent of the time I have Hannah, my assistant, bring me a mid-afternoon snack to last me till dinner.

I climb up onto my feet, using the toilet to support me – it really is shocking how much this is affecting my body. I know it's outrageous, of course it would mess me around and change so many things but I never expected it to be this severe. As I regain myself, I smooth my hair, pulling out my hair tie letting it fall down my back, between my shoulder blades and pushing the fly-a-ways behind my ears. I catch a glimpse at myself in the mirror and I am surprised to see that I still look like me but with a clammy complexion, flushed cheeks and bags under my eyes. You look like this, pure shit, every morning and he never says anything? Is he blind? My subconscious questions me, lifting my hair to inspect the damage; I scowl at her wanting to throw something heavy and potentially dangerous in her direction. Why did I give away those Tess books from Christian? They would be perfect! I splash some water over my face after furiously brushing my teeth to get rid of every last residue of before. One last look at myself in the huge mirror above the basin, settles my mind; I look somewhat respectable. Heading back into the bedroom I pull down my grey camisole over my stomach, I rest my fingers there for a second.

"You really are making Mommy feeling awful, Blip!" I whisper as I look down.

There's nothing there right now, at twelve weeks I have the smallest bump in the world – I mean, I can barely tell it's there, Christian of course first noticed the slight change, after all he knows my body better than I do. The most noticeable change has been my breasts. Although they haven't swelled dramatically, they are a lot tenderer and more sensitive to stimulation; Christian hasn't denied this and definitely rejoices in this change.

I head out of the bedroom and across the hall, over to the kitchen, heading in the direction of food to suppress Blips tyranny. Blip definitely takes after Christian, he's obsessed with me eating just like his father, and he isn't even here yet! Since finding out I was pregnant, in the untimely way I did, I have always referred to Blip as he. I have regular dreams of a little boy, with copper hair and grey eyes running through the meadow at the new house. Christian, after the fall out of the news and all that business with Hyde, which neither of us has discussed since the week I was released from hospital, follows suit in thinking Blip is a boy. I want him to have a son; I want to give him a son. Even though we are convinced little Blip is a boy, we're still preparing ourselves on the off chance that we're having a girl instead. I still laugh thinking back to when I first mentioned this to Christian, his face dropped to the ground in shock of the idea of having a daughter. Two women to contend with! Though, I think the idea of having a mini Ana is appealing to him, his words ring through my mind sending shivers throughout my core: "A little blue-eyed angel with delicious chocolate hair? I'm lucky to have one in my life, let alone being able to call you my best friend and wife, but to have the chance of another? I would be the luckiest son of a bitch in the universe! Two beautiful angels to protect and love."

I find Mrs Jones hovering around the kitchen, cleaning, as I enter. She looks up and smiles at me as I settle into one of the barstools at the counter.

"Good morning Mrs Grey. What can I get you for breakfast this morning?"

"Gail, please call me Ana. I know Christian doesn't like the informality of it, but I really would feel more comfortable if you would just call me Ana." I smile at her. I really do find it uncomfortable when she and the security team refer to me as 'Mrs Grey'. Yes, I am Mrs Grey, and yes I can contend with Taylor and the others calling me by that, more so to please Christian, but Gail should call me Ana – she lives us, and looks after us, she shouldn't feel the need to be stand off-ish with us.

"Ana." She grins at me, setting down a place mat in front of me. "Now what can I get you?"

"I think I'll just settle for Granola this morning. Thank you."

"Any fruit?"

"Please. But, please no Bananas. Or any type of Melon!" I persist to her.

My latest aversions are towards Bananas and Melons. Just the smell of them makes me nauseous. Just the thought of them makes my insides quiver and twist. I concentrate of my breathing, taking in deep, slow and steady breathes to calm myself, whilst resting my head in my hands. I notice Gail in the corner of my eye, setting down my breakfast on the counter along with a cup of tea. Raising my head, and sitting back slightly, I throw over a, 'I'm fine, don't worry' smile to her. Of course Gail found out I was pregnant that night I told Christian. After he left, stormed out and got mindlessly drunk and saw the bitch that shall not be named, she comforted me and checked in on me. It would be difficult to keep this from her; she has been subjected to me leaping from the kitchen running to the bathroom on my many occasions of 'morning sickness'. They really should rename that to 'all fucking day sickness'! That and, as expected, my diet has changed – no meats or fish that's undercooked or raw, certain cheeses are now off limits, along with caffeine and alcohol. I do miss the wine; the delicious, mouth-watering white wines that Christian selects to accompany dinner. I told Christian to continue as he was, he shouldn't stop enjoying wine just because I can't touch the stuff, though it is a temptation, but having Blip is enough of a reason not to drink. I don't need it; I don't want it!

"There you go Ana. Still suffering?" She rests her hand on my shoulder, comforting me. I know she worries, as do all the staff – I recall Sawyer fretting when I almost fainted after missing lunch last week, anyone would have thought he was having a coronary!

"Sure am. I hoping now that I'm at three months it'll start easing up. I read last week it usually settles down in the second phase. I'm hoping I'm not one of those ones that get it throughout. I don't know if I can cope with this for six more months!"

"I'm praying for you. Though, you've coped well thus far." She smiles and winks at me, leaving me to my breakfast in peace. I assume she goes off to her living quarters for a break, or to tidy up some part of the apartment. She does so much, it's a wonder that she hasn't up and left before now! Mrs Jones really is an angel sent from heaven.

I finish up my Granola and fruit in record time – Blip really doesn't like to be kept waiting! My stomach feels hard and on the brink of exploding. I leave my plate and cup in the sink, for Gail to clean up; usually I would just clean it myself but today is going to be an agonising day, and I'd much rather get out of the door to face it head on.

Back in the bedroom I strip out of my camisole and sweats, throwing them into the closet unconcerned with their destination. I grab my blue shift dress from one of the hangers, knowing it's the nearest thing to me and the quickest and easiest thing to throw on. Pushing it down over my chest, and smoothing it out over my hips, it falls into perfect place. This dress is pretty much the only work outfit I have chosen myself, after a spontaneous shopping trip with Mia a few weeks ago. At the time I was concerned with buying something, knowing that in a little while I won't be able to fit into anything, but this dress is fairly loose around my stomach. I'm hopeful I have a little more use out of it before Blip gets too big for regular clothes! I make a mental note to ask Christian if Neimans do maternity clothes.

I slip into my nude patent heels and run a comb through my hair before pulling it up into a hair tie. Yes, I look somewhat like an Editor this morning and less of a meek assistant who has no idea what she's doing. You're more than an Editor, you practically own the place! My subconscious bellows at me as she briefly glances up from her copy of 'Dorian Grey'. It's true, though Christian is the one in charge, at least until he gifts it to me as a 'wedding present'. I'm still dumbfounded by this, I got him cufflinks with our initials and he goes and gives me a publishing house? He really does have more money than sense. We have more money, I remind myself. We!

Grabbing my handbag and Blackberry from the dresser, I hastily make my way through the apartment towards the foyer, where I know Sawyer will be waiting for me. Every morning is the same: I have breakfast, get dressed, meet Sawyer in at the elevator ready to be accompanied to work, the meet Sawyer in the reception of Grey Publishing ready to be picked up and escorted home again. Christian has put a full-blown hard limit on me driving now that I'm pregnant. Honestly, anyone would think I was made of glass! Instead I am driven everywhere, usually it's Sawyer, unless I join Christian in the SUV, then Taylor drives – though, Sawyer is always there ready to stalk me at work. I swear sometimes I see more of Sawyer than I do my husband!

"Good morning, Mrs Grey." He nods as the elevator doors slide open and I step in beside him.

"Good morning, Sawyer. I hope you're well?" I look over to him, acknowledging his hesitancy towards me. It's been six weeks, if not more, since the Hyde business, and whilst I have apologised to him for the way I acted, I can still see that he's off with me, in no doubt that he's probably trying to second guess anything I do, just in case. I know Christian gave them all a kick up the ass after what happened; trying to reason with him was pointless, he knows why I did what I did and is grateful, but I also understand why he was so pissed off and furious. After all, I am his wife; I would die a thousand deaths if anything were to happen to him, and now I am carrying our child. He could have lost us both. I thank God every day that he turned up when he did, Jack could have done anything. I shake my head banishing these thoughts; I don't think a blubbering, hormonal woman would make things between Sawyer and me any easier.

"Yes, ma'am, and I you."

I nod back at him and smile briefly. Yes, this is too awkward. I wonder if Christian would object to allowing Prescott to come back. It was my fault she was fired, I gave her the okay to have Leila come and visit me. Christian insists that you can't just hire some after you've already fired them, something to do with trust. I feel guilty for what happened. Maybe after a bit of sucking up he'll cave? Or maybe a bit of sucking in general? I feel my cheeks flash crimson from my thoughts.

The ride to work is tedious, long and slow from the mid-morning Seattle traffic. I told Hannah yesterday that I would be coming in later this morning after having a late meeting last night. She knows to pass on any vital information to my next in command, Danielle Wilkes, if I'm otherwise engaged. Danielle started working for us shortly after my release my hospital, as a means of tiding things over while I got back on my feet, though she's proven to be useful in all manners of things – dealing with persistent and back breaking authors who want you running around after them 24/7, handling difficult staffing issues and just being amazing in everything she does. I'm grateful knowing that in a few months when I'm forced to take maternity leave, because I'm too fat to walk, that everything is going to be fine. Even though I'll be on maternity leave preparing for Blip's arrival, then having Blip and caring for him, I still plan on being kept in the loop. After all, I will be returning to work when the baby's older, not full-time but still enough to earn my part in our finances. Grey Publishing will be in my name eventually, the last thing I want to happen is for things to hit the fan as soon as my name is on the door.

I head straight to my office, bypassing a tonne of people asking for my input – seriously, how does Christian do this? How does he cope with being pestered all the time? I simply smile at them and ask them to refer to their department leader, or if necessary Danielle, knowing she'll dissect everything on my behalf and summarise in our weekly meeting. I settle into my chair and glance over the piles of papers all over my desk, where do I start? Before I can grab the first of the nearest pile Hannah comes into my office, bringing a cup of tea and some files.

"Morning Ana!" She smiles showing off her morning person persona, something I am envious of. "I've got your tea, and here are my notes from those manuscripts you gave me yesterday." I take the files, setting them on top of the now never-ending amount of work, before taking the tea.

"Thank you Hannah. I'll check over these, in the meantime can you hold all of my calls? I've got so much to do today."

"Of course, remember you have an appointment at three."

"Yes, I know. I'll be leaving at two. You know the drill?"

"Sure, Ms Wilkes unless it's you they need." I smile at her, I'm glad I have a team who are this good to me, accommodating me. Though I hazard a guess that the majority of the time it is down to my affiliation with the boss, rather than my skills as an Editor.

She leaves me to my abundance of papers, closing the door her. I power up my computer to flick through some of the emails I will have acquired since yesterday. I'm stunned to find that this morning there are only four to deal with. One of them is from the author I met with last night, just a brief confirmation of some of the details we discussed and a 'warm-hearted thank you'. I power back a reply, thanking him for deciding to work with us. I have a mini firework display going off inside me knowing that I've just clinched another up and coming author, who I am positive will go far. Christian will be proud! The next two emails are reminders from Danielle about the meeting on Friday; the whole board will be in situ for it. It'll be the quarterly meeting to check the stats and progress. The last email is what I was expecting. I knew I would receive something considering I was alone this morning when I woke.

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Guilty

Date: 31st October 2011 11:43:12AM

To: Anastasia Grey

To my loving Wife,

I feel impeccably guilty for leaving you this morning, especially after last night I claimed I had no meetings until this afternoon. I received a call first thing from Andrea - impromptu meeting with one of the bosses from that shipping yard. He's in Seattle for today only, therefore this was the only chance I had to clinch things with him. Please accept my apologies. I will make it up to you.

I hope this morning was better for you.

Remember we have our appointment with Dr Greene at three today. I will meet you at two.

I love you.

Take things easy. Please.

X

Christian Grey

Sorry Husband & CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

I did miss him this morning, though I am not too disheartened that he wasn't there. As much as I love waking up in his arms, or more often than not with him sprawled across my stomach, holding me down, I know that on occasion he has breakfast meetings that he cannot possibly get out of. I tap out a reply to him.

From: Anastasia Grey

Subject: Understanding and Dutiful Wife

Date: 31st October 2011 12:05:49PM

To: Christian Grey

Dear Guilty,

Firstly, I accept your apologies, though you should take note that they are not needed. This is not the first early start you've had and I sincerely doubt it will be the last. You don't need to apologise for earning a living, especially now that we'll have another mouth to feed.

You can make it up to me tonight. I like the idea of you, me, Blip, chocolate pudding and a stupid movie.

I have remembered. You'll pick me up? Can we go for something to eat afterwards?

This morning was the same as every other morning: running to empty my body down the porcelain, feeling like hell, and then wolfing down my breakfast. I think I broke a new record this morning.

I will take it easy, though the amount of work on my desk is slightly disturbing.

I love you too.

Ana and Blip.

xxx

Anastasia Grey

Loving Wife & Editor, Grey Publishing Ltd.

I send the email and turn to focus myself on my work. I flick through the files Hannah gave me, approving her work and signing it off, before I hear the ping of an incoming message.

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Still feeling guilty…

Date: 31st October 2011 12:11:12PM

To: Anastasia Grey

…No matter what you say. I will make it up to you. Your idea sounds perfect, however I feel that I should remind you, knowing how hectic you've been, that we have already agreed to attend Mia's Halloween party this evening. If you want to skip it we can, I'd much rather settle for your expectations of this evening.

Chocolate pudding? I can do a lot with that.

Of course, I'll pick you up. I thought we'd go solo, I'll bring the R8. I do like your car, Mrs Grey.

Maybe you should pass some of the work onto your second? That's what they're there for. I do not want you stressing over things.

I'm counting down until two o'clock, when I can hold you in my arms again.

X

Christian Grey

Love-struck Husband & CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

Shit, I'd totally forgotten about Mia's party. She pretty much threw a fit when Christian and I exchanged looks over dinner when she announced her ideas, and I know that she'll have a full blown psychotic episode if we don't turn up.

From: Anastasia Grey

Subject: Forgetful

Date: 31st October 2011 12:14:36PM

To: Christian Grey

Seriously, I think I have baby brain already. Thank you for the reminder, I had completely forgotten about Mia's party. In fact, I hadn't even realised that today is Halloween. What will the party entail? Is there a dress code?

I know that you can do a lot with Chocolate pudding, Mr Grey. I recall the last time vividly, though I doubt Mrs Jones enjoyed the clean-up – those sheets were completely ruined!

I too like MY R8, and I love that you enjoy driving MY car. I would love it if I were allowed to drive MY own car for a change. I am pregnant not ill. Being pregnant may have caused me some memory problems, but I can assure you, Sir, that my driving skills are still intact.

I look forward to seeing you too. More so to our appointment, I cannot wait to see Blip.

Now let me work, otherwise I'll never leave this office!

Ana

xx

P.S I do delegate my work when necessary; however I prefer to take a 'hands on' approach. Something I believe you are familiar with?

Anastasia Grey

Busy and Now Hungry Editor, Grey Publishing Ltd.

From: Christian Grey

Subject: I'm trying…

Date: 31st October 2011 12:18:54PM

To: Anastasia Grey

…To protect you. I just want to keep you and Blip safe, if that means you having to be driven around then so be it. I will protect you.

Yes, Mia has specifically insisted on a fancy dress theme. She has already suggested sent over a list outlining the theme for the party, would you like me to pick something out for you?

I am familiar with the hands on approach, however I hope you are not too hands on. I would be very jealous otherwise; I think you are familiar with this?

Now, I must get back to the world of mergers and acquisitions.

Remember to eat lunch.

C

X

Christian Grey

Insistent Husband, Father-to-be & CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

I scowl at his email. I know he means well, but sometimes I feel it is unnecessary. Do normal husbands insist on their wives having an entourage and chauffer? Who the hell am I kidding? Christian isn't a normal husband! Nothing about him is normal. He's, by his own admission, fifty shades of fucked up. My fifty shades. Though I love this about him, yes I admit there are things in his past that I would happily change – bitch troll, his birth mother and the 15 – but that's part of him. He is a different person with me, different to who he was before he met me. He tells me frequently that there are three women in his life who saved him: Grace, who adopted him and saved him from his treacherous early childhood; Mia, who brought him out of his shell and got him talking after two years of silence; then there's me, I showed him love, true love, and a life away from the red room of pain, and into a life of vanilla with kinky fuckery thrown in. He gave up a lot to be with me, and I had doubts for a long time whether I was enough for him. Just recently I have started believing him when he says that I am; I see it in his eyes that he loves me and Blip. Knowing he loves Blip as I do, is what I needed most, especially after how he reacted when I told him. I have no idea what I would have done if he never came back, or if he made me choose. I love them both, and I haven't even met the one burrowed inside me.

From: Anastasia Grey

Subject: I know you are.

Date: 31st October 2011 12:23:10PM

To: Christian Grey

I know why you do it, but it still doesn't mean I agree with your decisions. I respect you for them though, as I will do anything in my power to keep us safe. All of us.

Can you pick for me? I doubt I have the time or the energy to fret over what nonsense Mia has picked out for this evening.

I do recall some memory of your jealously over such silly things. My behind seems to recall it as well.

I too need to get on with work.

See you at two.

Love,

YOUR Ana

xxx

Anastasia Grey

More than Love-struck Editor, Grey Publishing Ltd.

I close my emails knowing that Christian is unlikely to message me back anytime soon. Picking up where I left off I grab two of the biggest piles of papers intent of getting through them.

Hannah pops in to drop off my lunch, an organic vegetable wrap from the deli down the street, along with some Orange juice. I thank her but she gathers I am in over my head right now and leaves me be. It's nice to not have my phone ringing, or to be interrupted.

By 1 o'clock I've finished reading through everything, and have signed off the papers on my desk, sifted through a hefty manuscript from an author we've worked with before, making notes of issues I have with the piece, which will need discussing before contracts are signed. I'm surprised with my progress, sitting back in my chair grinning to myself. This is why you're in charge. Taking a sip from my juice I sit forward once more and open up my calendar to check my schedule for this week – just a few meetings later in the week, nothing too stressful.

I'm torn from the computer by a knock at my door.

"Come in!" I shout to whomever is outside, calling them to enter.

"Mrs Grey."

Christian strolls in all Adonis like, wearing his grey suit trousers that hang perfectly from his hips, with his white shirt tucked in. His shirt is open at the collar and his sleeves are rolled up. He's carrying his suit jacket which is flung over his shoulder. My inner goddess sprints across the room, jumping him and taking him right here, right now, but the pregnant woman in me is more reserved, instead choosing not to move too suddenly in case the sickness makes an unwelcome return.

"Mr Grey." I reply to him, staying seated in my chair as he saunters over to me, dipping as his reaches me to bring his lips to mine. I can feel the oh too familiar muscles deep in my pelvis clenching as he slides his tongue into my mouth teasing mine, exploring me.

As he pulls away, returning to an upright stance, I groan at him. I don't think I could ever have enough of him.

"Are you ready, baby?"

"Which one of us are you referring to?" I smirk at him, resting my hand on my stomach.

He grins back, stepping forward, placing his hand over mine.

"Both of you."

"Yes, just need to grab my bag and we can go."

On the way out of my office Christian holds my door open, then taking my hand proudly escorting me around the room. He holds me as if I am a trophy; I flush at some of the gazes we receive – mainly women jealous of me, jealous of us. Everyone loves my fifty.

"See you tomorrow Hannah." I smile as I pass her desk on the way out.

"Good bye Ana. Mr Grey." She blushes as she looks up from me to him. I roll my eyes, yet another girl falling at his feet.

"Hannah." He smiles to her. He's in a good mood today. I prefer it when Christian's like this. This is the Christian I love the most. The Christian who's in love.