Gold- Chet Faker

I stared at Christian, dumbfounded, as he strolled away from me. I was standing in the lobby, soaked, and still reeling from the ferocity and amount of emotion he poured into that kiss. Someone cleared their throat, and I glanced at the receptionist who was looking at the puddle I was standing in disdainfully. I painted a smile on my face and headed towards the elevators.

"Nice dinner, Princess?" Ethan asked, his tone harsh, as he typed away on his laptop. I glanced at the screen and saw lines of computer code. Ethan never wrote his own code if he could avoid it or enlist someone else to do it for him- namely me.

"Perfectly pleasant," I responded before heading into my room. I didn't want to fight with Ethan the Asshole, my only ally in all of this. I had to tread carefully around him. If he believed that my target and I were something more than target and assassin, he wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in my head as well as my target's. Ethan's reaction did surprise me. He knew that I slept with targets all the time and even when we were together, he never reacted like this. It was making me uneasy. Sighing, I stepped out of my room.

Ethan the Asshole looked up as I stood before him, still looking like a downed rat. "May I have a half bar?"

Ethan nodded and snapped a bar of Xanax in half. "That's it for tonight and tomorrow morning."

I nodded and popped it into my mouth without a second thought. Ethan watched me closely, studying my face.

"What?" I asked, meeting his intense gaze.

"You know what you're doing, right?" he said. Cutting me off before I could remind him of my kills, my sisal success, he started again. "I know you're amazing at your job, but for some reason, this feels different. The whole mess with Kate and Rodriguez, and even the way you're interacting with a target. It makes me worried."

I nodded. "Ethan, this is what I do best. Seduce and kill. I'll be fine. As for Katherine and Rodriguez, we took care of one problem, and as far as I'm concerned, it's not my job to protect Katherine. I know I agreed to talk to her, but now, I think she'll come at us with guns blazing. If she gets in my way, I will kill her. She is your father's problem, not mine."

I bit my lip as I watched Ethan's expression shift from concern to anger. "Do you have no sense of loyalty?"

"I have too much to worry about right now. I can't even take care of myself. How the hell do you expect me to be able to reach out to Kate?" I said. I knew I was playing with fire, but at this point, I didn't feel like helping Katherine. "Take care of her before I have to."

I left the room again to go and relax before I said or did something even more regrettable. I knew I was being cold, but Katherine had the potential to royally fuck everything up.

The warm shower soothed me, and I was feeling content after I stepped out of the warm spray. Sitting on the desk in my room was a bouquet of white roses. I instantly grabbed the gun off of the bathroom counter, and swept the room. I had locked my door and I knew that Ethan the Asshole was the only one with the key. I approached the flowers cautiously, and saw that the envelope attached had been ripped open- the card shoved hastily back inside. Breathing a sigh of relief, I knew that Ethan had intercepted the bouquet first.

Placing the gun down, I grabbed the envelope, felling the luxurious white satin paper between my fingers. My name was written in neat cursive on the front.

Anastasia-

Thank you for a wonderful evening. Enclosed is the formal invitation to the opera I mentioned. I will pick you up tomorrow evening at seven. I look forward to seeing you.

Christian

An involuntary smile played on my lips as I read the note for the second time and glanced at the opera invitation. The roses were perfect, and for a dominant that was never seen with a woman and had famously claimed in an interview to never "do the relationship thing", my target was doing a pretty good job of courting me so far.

I placed the roses in some water and climbed into bed, feeling relatively more content than I had in years.

The next morning, I spent entirely too long getting dressed. I needed to go out and buy a formal gown, but I knew that I needed to look the part in order to be taken seriously. Dressed in a dove grey dress and black leather jacket, I reluctantly slid my feet into a pair of stilettos and hoped that I wouldn't break my ankle. It would not make a nice addition to my already broken arm.

"Where are you off to?" Ethan asked, looking up from the rifle he was cleaning.

"I need to buy a dress," I said, and hastily making my retreat before he could question me further. I hailed a taxi outside of the hotel and before I could regret my decision I was standing outside of Neiman Marcus. Taking a deep breathe, I entered the store.

It was only thirty seconds before I remembered why I hated stores with a passion. This glamorous life I stepped into for assignments was not what I wanted. It was great, full of incredible opportunities, people, and glamour, but deep down, I longed for the cozy cabin in the middle of Washington, nothing but trees surrounding it.

I strolled around the store, heading up to the dress section. It wasn't as if I couldn't afford things in this store- I was paid extremely well by people who hired Eamon's services. I just didn't like the false pleasantries and pretense of this world.

"Excuse me, Miss," someone said. "Is there anything I can help you with today?"

I plastered a fake smile on my face. "Oh yes! I'm attending the Seattle Opera's charity show tonight, and as usual, I leave getting a dress until the very last minute."

I watched as the blonde woman took in my Chanel purse, Cartier watch, and Valentino stilettos. She smiled back at me. "Of course! Now, are you just attending the gala after or the actual show?"

I paused before replying. I knew my target well enough. "The show as well. I believe I'll be on the red carpet."

Her eyebrows rose. "My name is Emma. Let me go and consult with my supervisor. I'll be back in a few minutes. Please make your way into the dressing room."

She directed me back out of the display area and into a small room with bright lighting and mirrors everywhere. I sat down on one of the silver settees.

You're making me partake in an activity I very much despise.

My phone vibrated with a response before I could put it away again.

Do tell, Anastasia.

Shopping.

I slipped my phone back into my purse, just as Emma strolled into the room carrying what looked like ten dresses.

"Hello," the brunette said, offering a hand. "My name is Caroline Acton. I'm a personal stylist."

"Anastasia," I responded, not giving her my last name. She seemed to expect it, but brushed it off with a professional smile.

"We have some options here. These aren't out on the floor yet, and they are the newest selection we have," Caroline said, unzipping garment bags. "I don't think you should wear black."

Her eyes appraised me. "How comfortable are you with showing skin?"

"I don't want anything with too much cleavage. Other than a dress that would prevent me from wearing underwear, I'm okay with thigh slits and things like that," I said, groaning internally as I said it.

"This navy dress is an Elie Saab," Caroline said, hanging up the dress in the area behind curtains. I quickly stepped into it. Caroline slipped behind me, zipping it up. "You're the perfect size! I thought we would have to put in a rush tailor order."

I rolled my eyes. I didn't obsessively count carbs. I was naturally slim, made even more lithe from the intense combat training I did. When my arm wasn't broken.

I glanced at myself in the mirror and fell in love with the dress. "This is the one."

Caroline's eyebrows raised. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to try on a few others?"

"Positive. This is exactly what I want," I said. The blonde woman handed me a silver clutch and a pair of black ombre to silver stilettos. Glancing at myself in the mirror, I looked different. Beautiful even.

I left the store with a large bag and Caroline's business card. I hailed a taxi to the nearest salon and treated myself to a quick manicure and pedicure. Nothing fancy, but just enough to make my nails look presentable.

My phone vibrated.

I will see you at 7.

I rolled my eyes, knowing that my target needed multiple levels of confirmation. I felt bad, considering that my own actions had caused him to start second guessing my interest. But it was all part of the game.

Biting my lip, I knew I was playing with fire, but I couldn't resist. After all, it was my job to play games and be bold.

Yes sir.

I watched as three dots appeared on the screen.

You're playing with fire.

I smiled. The beautician let me have my hands and feet back, and I quickly left the salon. I didn't know how to respond the my target's message without revealing what I knew. I had to play innocent.

Ethan left half a bar of Xanax on the dresser in my room. I greedily swallowed it. already pleased that my dependency seemed to be weaning off. Guilt racked me as I realized I wouldn't have done it without Ethan. It was yet another convoluted reason I had to keep him around. But I couldn't let him get too close to me again.

Sitting on my bed wrapped in one of the hotel robes and a towel, I pulled out my computer. I quickly scrubbed the name Anastasia Steele. Not that it wasn't already scrubbed and edited beyond belief, but looking over results with a fresh set of eyes always helped me catch things I missed in the past. I missed the stalking. Writing computer code and hacking into highly secure places was thrilling, but I liked the adrenaline rush of the hunt.

Shutting the laptop before I erased any trace of Anastasia Steele, which would only make people even more suspicious, I began to blow dry my hair. I had learned over time how to style my hair and do makeup relatively well, but I still liked to keep it simple. Nothing screamed classless like layers of foundation and eyeshadow.

I stepped into some red lace panties, sighing as I realized I wouldn't be able to wear a bar with the dress. The gown was gorgeous and I smiled at myself in the full length mirror. It was a shame that the wrist brace didn't match the color of the dress. Opening my bag, I found my jewelry role and sighed as I slipped a pair of diamond earrings in my ears. It was one small perk from the job. I grabbed the clutch and shoved various objects inside. The only thing I really cared about having was the fake credit card that had side that was razor sharp. It was the only weapon that would pass through security.

I glanced at myself again, giving myself mental praise that I managed to clean myself up. I'd done it so many times before, but somehow it always surprised me.

A knock at the door startled me and I frantically struggled with the zipper of the dress. Over my shoulder in the mirror I watched as my target entered the room. Ethan the Asshole must have let him in.

His eyes were dark and his hair was still slightly damp and curling lightly in its usual disarray. His black tux was fitted perfectly, probably made for him, showing off his stunning physique. His eyes met mine in the mirror and I felt my self involuntarily shiver.

"Anastasia," he said, his smooth voice pronouncing my name like a caress. "You look incredible."

As he stepped closer, I was painfully aware that my dress was still fully unzipped, showing off the edge of my panties. He stepped behind me, his eyes never leaving mine as I felt him pull the dress and slowly begin to drag the zipper up. One of his knuckles traced over the exposed skin before it was shut by the zip. I was struggling to remain in control of my breathing.

He stepped away suddenly and I missed the contact instantly. I turned around and allowed him to kiss my cheek in greeting. His arms lingered around my waist as one of mine rested on his shoulder.

He cleared his throat thickly. "Are you ready?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak without my voice betraying me.

He clasped my good hand, escorting me out of the suite. I took a deep breathe before we stepped into the elevator. My target was standing casually on the other side, just gazing at me. I couldn't read his guarded expression.

"What?" I asked, slightly irritated that I felt my body respond to him in ways it shouldn't. Maybe Ethan was right- maybe the lines wee getting blurred.

"You look incredible. And I am honored to have such a beautiful woman accompany me tonight," he said suavely.

I arched an eyebrow and smirked. "Well played, Mr. Grey."

His arrogant smirk made me bite my lip and I nearly laughed as I watched his eyes darken even more. So the dominant was turned on my something as simple as a lip bite.

Mercifully, the elevator doors opened, and my target's hand instantly found the small of my back, ready to escort me to the waiting Bentley SUV. A change from the Audi I was used to.

"Mr. Grey, Miss Steele," Taylor the SEAL greeted us as he pulled out into the busy Seattle traffic.

"How is your arm doing?" my target asked, gesturing towards my brace.

"Better. Only a few more weeks of wearing it, I hope," I said. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

He nodded. "That's very encouraging."

"How's the big, bad world of mergers and acquisitions?" I asked playfully.

He smiled. "It's very lucrative. And particularly right now, I'm making a real killing."

I chuckled. "I'm glad to hear it."

We pulled to stop on an area of the road that the police had waved us to. Suddenly there were flashes and I could see the red material leading into the modern building.

"If you're uncomfortable, I can meet you inside," my target offered. I shook my head and nodded towards the crowd.

"Let's go."

He slipped out first, extending a hand to me as he buttoned his tuxedo jacket with the other.

Instantly the number of flashes increased as the photographers scrambled over one and another to get a picture of us together. I couldn't make out questions as so many people were yelling. Christian hugged me into his side until we reached the main part of the carpet where we could pose for actual pictures, not ones that would cover the tabloids.

My target leaned down slightly and whispered in my ear, his lip ever so slightly brushing my skin. "Intense, isn't it?"

At that point, I couldn't tell if it was in reference to the tension between us, or the media circus currently watching us.