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Chapter 1

Ana never imagined a winter wedding nor did she envision her mother's absence but those thoughts were useless. In three months, she was getting married. She pulled her knitted sleeves over her fingers before surrounding the warm ceramic of her mug with her covered hands. It was a cold and bitter day for October 1st. The view from her bedroom balcony served as a simple reminder for this weddings purpose. The leaves danced effortlessly to the ground in their warm orange and dark red colors that fall always blessed them with. She could easily paint the scene and envision the pallete of colors. From her balcony, the woods filled her vision. Her mother chose this room specifically for her because of the view. She felt the corners of her lips slightly upturn at the memories of painting out there. With the memories came a bitter gust of wind and she tightened the blanket around her lap before being distracted by her phone ringing. She sighed at the ID of their contracter. Renovations on hers and Christian's estate began two weeks ago which meant the constant ringing of her cell phone.

"Hello."

"Miss. Steele. We wanted to call and let you know that Mr. Grey declined your request for an Art Studio and has decided to use that space as the fitness center." Ana closed her eyes and worked to remember the layout of the house.

"What about the bedroom on the west wing next to the master?"

"I'm sorry but that room isn't available either."

"I'll take a damn closet at this point." She huffed and the silence on the other end forced her to reign in her frustration. 'Don't shoot the messenger' she reminded herself.

"Maybe this is a discussion best suited for you and Mr. Grey."

"Of course." She replied sullenly and on the verge of tears. "I'll call him right now. Please don't bother him with anymore requests and any that he has I'll gladly support. I'll email the rest of the paint colors to you right now." Daryl, their contractor offered a pitied goodbye before hanging up and she threw her phone in her lap. How did she get here? She felt the familiar tremors in her chest that always signaled a cry-fest and she snuggled deeper into her sweater and blanket craving an escape. Refusing to acknowledge the traitor tears sprinting down her cheeks, she focused on the muted tone of yellow wave throughout the tops of the trees. Of course with all thoughts of zen and art came the wrecking reminders of her situation.

"Be prepared for several public appearances." Carrick Grey's voice echoed throughout her head. As much as she wanted to believe that Carricks desire, she quickly learned it to be Christian's.

Ana shuddered to think that they would be making their first large appearance tonight together. Her only saving grace was the venue being the Art museum. Their first 'date' failed miserably or at least she thought so. He spoke to her in a manner that was awfully condescending but even more so that he wore a bright smile one that without words she'd love to paint but it wasn't until the first flash pierced the glass of the window she realized his intent. He didn't care to entertain her or get to know her but he put on a damn good show for the photogs outside. It was in that moment she realized why he picked the window table.

She didn't believe in fairy tales but she had fantasies of love and marriage. And she never wished for much. She wanted someone who supported her passion for painting and who didn't mind that she spent most of her days in stained overalls and a cropped t-shirt. She inadvertently ran her fingers through her hair only to be caught by several knots before she gave up. Her long naturally wavy hair always found a way to knot itself together by morning. It's own very special aggravating talent.

Another gust of bitter breeze and she inhaled the cool air into her lungs thankful for something authentic. Being thrown into a manufactured relationship severely contrasted the visions she had forherself. It shattered actually every fantasy she's ever had and she wasn't yet brave enough to discuss a timeline. Not only that but the idea of being divorced carried a sharp pain in her chest with it. Ana threw her hands up and abandoned her time outside. The silence it seemed only carried what will never be and she didn't have the emotional strength to process it all.

As she closed the french doors to her balcony, she stilled at the wrapped package on her comforter. Recognizing the wrapping paper being from Saks, she approached it slowly. Her fingers worked the white lace bordered tag into view and she felt her breathing stagger.

Ana,

This looked like your style. I sincerely hope you enjoy it.

Love,

Christian

She read and reread the note twenty times with a furrowed brow and confusion coursing through her like a tsunami wave. It flooded every other feeling including the admiration the gift should create but eventually a ripple freed itself and slowly she felt somewhat excited…hopeful. Tearing through the wrapping she curled her fingers beneath the lid of the box and pulled. She carefully moved aside the Ivory tissue paper and stared at the carefully folded blood red fabric. What did she expect? She couldn't convey much of her personality in an hour date where he controlled the entire exchange but still…Ana held up the dress before her and cringed. There were front cutouts that would expose her ribs with a low cut v-neck and thin almost non existent straps cris crossing what would be a bare back. Is that really what he thought of her?

The fabric protruded between her fingers as she clenched the red satin until the taut muscles of her hands hurt. With one glance, she knew his intent. His feelings were clear, he had no respect for her. Raking her bottom lip between her teeth, she struggled not to cry. It took all her strength to fight the urge to travel to her parents room and sit beside her mother in bed and ask for her advice. The void she felt was suffocating. If she had the motivation to paint, she would but instead she curled up in bed and pulled the comforter over her head. Under her blanket, she could hide from Christian, her father's heartwrenching sadness, and even her own. Under her blanket, she could pretend that life wasn't as dim and dark as her reality. Within minutes she slept bound to visions of a bleak marriage and caged within an estate with one room not her own.

"Ana." The sound of her name penetrated the haze of sleep and she felt the familiar hand of their housekeeper Ruth nudging her gently.

"Honey, it's afternoon. You've been asleep all morning." Ruth tried again and Ana roused from her fitful sleep with all the makings of a headache and the potential for a migraine. Damn him and damn her for being so affected by it.

"Did you see the dress?" She asked her voice hoarse from crying. It probably was the worst idea considering their appearance that evening. Ruth's lips thinned before nodding and handing Ana aspirin and water.

"He's a man Ana. They don't know good style." Ruth answered and Ana wished that were true but she found a semblance of comfort from her voice. Ruth worked for them for twenty years up until they were unable to pay her three years ago due to the medical expenses from her mother but Ruth stayed. She moved in and helped them. Everyday, Ruth performed the same routine and Ana helped her because she could only sit with the sound of her own voice within her mother's room for so long before the flame of her hope began to flicker. And she left before it became nothing but a burnt wick because she knew, reignitig that flame would be damn near impossible.

"He hates me. That dress proves exactly what he thinks about me. If someone called and asked me to pick a dress for a Charity dinner at the Seattle Art Museum, that is not something I'd remotely look twice at. So either the personal shopper really sucks at her job or that dress is a deliberate pick. Considering his wealth, I'm picking the latter." Her heightened irritation even surprised her but it was a relief. Anger was a much easier emotion to control than sadness.

"Ana, you don't need to do this." She crawled out of bed and checked her phone sighing at the three missed calls from the contracter and a text from Christian chastising her for forcing him to handle her responsibilities. And then to add salt to the wound he asked how she liked her dress. She threw her phone at her bed feeling the weight of her lungs grow heavier with each burning breath before she collapsed back onto the still warm fabric of her sheets. She tried fervently to swallow the hurt she worked to convince herself didn't exist. She tried to remind herself that she didn't care what he thought of her but even she could feel the dishonesty of her thoughts. He was her future husband and though their relationship was more mechanic than natural, he could at least try. Gail sat next to her and cupped Ana's hand with hers.

"He cries." Ana whispered staring at her wallpaper for distraction.

"What?"

"He cries still. Every morning in the bathroom. He goes in and turns on the shower but I can hear him. That's how sad he is." Silence followed before she stood and inhaled deeply.

"I can do this." She turned and locked eyes with Ruth.

"I will do this." She added feeling the flicker of her flame return to a burning candle, her light not as bright but it existed.

Ruth smiled and nodded before standing and bringing Ana into an embrace.

"Why don't we go through some of your mother's dresses." Ruth asked, raking her hands down the sides of Ana's arms in a reassuring manner.

"I can't." She replied immediately, shaking her head and hands both with anxiety.

"Do you want me to?"

Ana could only nod her head before studying herself in the mirror. She looked much paler than usual and her eyes not as bright, of course the puffiness didn't help. Wanting to slap herself for crying like a damn baby earlier, she chose to shower instead.

After an hour of cold spoons on her eyes, Ana applied her makeup and started to curl her hair. Ruth replaced her tired arms and curled the rest when she came back in.

"Which dress did you pick?" Ana asked knowing that it really didn't matter. Any of her mother's dresses would be suitable and every one of them would seem too overwhelming…but she'd wear them because she couldn't wear the idiotic dress Christian sent.

"The Feretti. It's hanging up in your room."

Ana nodded and watched Ruth wrap her hair around the iron before becoming lost in thoughts of the dress. Her mother wore the Feretti at her last event, the last time she ever wore a gown. For the life of her, she couldn't remember which event it was. She only remembered staying up until midnight waiting for them to return. Her mother was still in chemo then and Ana about bit her nails clear off with anxiety. But they had a wonderful time and seeing her mother's smile when they returned was worth it.

The day came into strict clarity with the final clasp of the dress. The grey chiffon was a little loose in her chest area but it hugged her curves elsewhere. She couldn't quite sift through her feelings. Her hands nervously ran down the gathered waist of the dress, testing the tangibility of her wearing it. Her mother filled this dress and with every other dress in her closet, she couldn't imagine anyone else wearing it. To see herself, she felt like an intruder.

"You're mother would be so proud." Ruth declared as she excitedly gripped Ana's shoulders. Through repeated mantras all revolving around convincing herself not to cry, she could barely feel the touch. It felt more like the light graze of wind.

"I should've asked Dad first." Ana realized in panic before she heard his knock and watched him enter. She saw his expression, studying his fine lines and blue eyes.

"Dad, I can take it off." She murmured anxiously to fill the silence.

"No, honey. You look beautiful."

Don't cry. Don't cry. Happy place. Happy…

"Damn it!" She yelled as a tear made it's escape. Ruth immediately began to fan her face and Ana tried to imagine the funniest situation possible with no such luck. She needed to leave.

"Thank you Dad and thanks Ruth for helping me with everything."

"What time is Christian picking you up?"

"He's not" She answered quickly and without thought. Her father's eyes narrowed and her eyes darted to Ruth who shrugged her shoulders.

"He's running late from work. His driver is picking me up and then we'll retrieve Christian." She lied and she did it well. Too well, she thought as they all walked down the stairs in weary silence. Only Ruth knew just how bleak hers and Christian's relationship was and she promised not to tell understanding that Raymond felt enough guilt, Ana refused to give him more. So, she lied. She told her father that he was perfect on their first date. She wore a smile reminiscent of the one she wore sophomore year of high school when Tommy Ridges asked her to prom, and she convinced her father she believed she'd grow to love Christian easily. Hugging them both, Ana attempted to draw strength from their embraces but settled for the ease of her anxiety before closing their front door.

Christian designated Sawyer as her driver. He was 6 foot 4 and packing more than 200 lbs and she could see the outline of a gun at his waist. Well, if anything Christian protects his assets because that's the only thing she felt like to him. It made her curiosity insatiable though. Her need to understand what he could gain from marrying her or why the domineering Christian Grey succumbed to a demand of his father's. And, another question. Why the hell did Carrick want her?

"Hi Sawyer."

"Miss Steele." He replied curtly with a slight dip of his chin. As she climbed into the SUV, Sawyer handed her a yellow envelope before rounding the car to the drivers seat. Repositioning the prongs of the clasp, she pulled out the papers inside. Richmond Public Relations logo was the first thing she noticed before she scanned the rest of the page.

Statement of History

You and Christian are childhood friends due to families social circles. You have dated quietly on and off since you were 18. The first time being in 2008 for 10 months. You parted ways to focus more on your mother's illness. You kept in touch throughout the years and reunited briefly in 2010 for a couple months but parted ways again mutually with Christian's impending six month trip to Europe. You began exchanging phonecalls and text messages six months ago and after Carla Steele's death both of you realized you were still in love and Christian proposed.

Statement of Proposal

Being private individuals, Christian proposed on September 10th 2013 over a home cooked meal at his Escala home. No more details are necessary at this moment.

Wedding

January 4th 2014. Venue is W. Hotel. Dress designer is Paolo Sebastian.

Ana's hands trembled as she dropped the paper to her lap. There was more, much more. Questions and preferred answers to press questions. They were using her mother's death and she had to read details about her own wedding from a publicist. Feeling the air escape her chest and a wave of nausea attack her, she fumbled to lower the window.

The moment the chilled breeze met her skin, she felt the ease of anxiety not freedom but expansion of her cage.

They pulled into the parking garage and she watched Christian emerge from the elevator. Under different circumstances, she'd probably like him even want to be with him. In a suit undoubtedly custom tailored for his build, he looked handsome aesthetically pleasing but that's all she felt. How romantic it felt to be detached to her fiance, she berated herself for a moment. As Sawyer opened her door, she raised her chin determined not to give Christian a reaction. When he finally lay eyes on her, he stilled. And for a second she thought he might actually compliment her because his eyes studied her with a hint of admiration but the expression disappeared quickly. He pulled the lapels of his suit with a distant and uncaring attitude.

"Ready?" He asked with a familiar devilish gleam. Two devils and she the innocent sacrificial lamb. She'd feel much more the martyr if she hadn't sacrificed herself.