A/N: I must say that I was pleasantly surprised that y'all liked the Bonnie/Christian interaction. I was expecting to get mixed reactions or no reaction at all. So thank you EVERYONE because now my head is bursting with ideas, some naughty, some nice. I don't know where things will head between those two as I'm trying to keep this Bamon, but I will say that anything is liable to happen, and anything goes. Here is the latest. It basically picks up where the last chapter ended. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: These characters (with the exception of Christian Grey/Elena Lincoln—they belong to EL James, and my OC's) are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

The dirty look. You know the kind of look a woman delivers to another woman she's selected out of a crowd to be her nemesis although you were just going about your business paying her no mind? With a single look she could dismantle you, write you off as cheap, a whore, insignificant, competition, lesser, ugly, dumb. Beginning from the crown of your head to the soles of your feet she could reduce you to feeling like a beggar on the street with missing teeth, bad skin, and bald spots.

That's how several women began to look at me once the secret was out that I was the woman draped on Mr. Grey's arm. Others stared at me curiously as if trying to see the interest.

I endured the looks, ignored them, even threw some shade where shade needed to be thrown, but ultimately I kept it moving until I was able to locate my boss in the crowd. He was once again surrounded by the who's-who of international business, commerce, and infrastructure. I observed Christian for a moment. One hand was tucked away in his pocket while the other waved around in the air as he spoke with his subjects. He held everyone captivated, especially the females who gazed at him like besotted fangirls.

Chortling, I helped myself to a glass of champagne, looked over the hor' dourves before selecting a pig in a blanket. It didn't seem to matter how much money a person had, pigs in a blanket was a staple at any social affair. I nibbled the little morsel taking care not to get any crumbs around my mouth. I smized—smiled with my eyes—at those who joined me at the table looking over the plentiful selections, pointing with fingers at the more creative delicacies before taking a chance on something they had never tasted or seen before.

Muted classical music played softly mixing with the murmuring of soft and loud voices. Periodically I'd hear someone laugh boisterously or there'd be a peel of laughter that sounded like a hyena giving birth.

My thoughts took a sharp trajectory back to the awkward conversation I had had with Elena Lincoln. I dissected her words like a forensic pathologist. I wasn't the type of woman Christian Grey usually went for, she said. Tall. Willowy. Easily breakable. That was his type. She thought I was his date, and I was unofficially, and then she made some cryptic comment about one is always working when Mr. Grey was around. Honestly, I didn't know what to make of her. Ms. Lincoln (I couldn't keep calling her by that name) said she had history with Christian. Only one kind of history came to mind. Had that been her subtle way of marking her territory? By trying to say she had seen my boss naked on numerous occasions, and though the thrill was gone for him, she was still holding a candle for him, and if he said "Elena lets fuck" she'd simply say, "Sure, which hole?"

I started to do some calculations in my head. Ms. Lincoln was probably flirting with fifty if she wasn't already. Christian, whom I learned, was thirty-one. There was a possible twenty year age gap between them, so if the two of them ever did have a sexual or romantic relationship could it have taken place in his early twenties? Maybe it wasn't even that long ago?

At the end of the day it didn't really matter because nothing was going on between me and Christian Grey. He was my boss. I was his gopher whom he paid richly to tell people exactly how he liked his shoes to be shined. That's all that was between us.

A server wearing a crisp white jacket over black slacks popped up on the other side of the table, hands behind his back. He was clean shaven with deliciously full lips, olive skin, deep set ink black eyes. I'd pegged him to be Pacific Islander, but I could be wrong. He bowed a little, and I was almost tempted to return the gesture, but instead I smiled showing my top row of teeth.

"Is there anything in particular that suits your fancy, miss?"

He had an accent that didn't make it any easier to place his origins. I shook my head.

"Would you like to sample the crab pate', or the shrimp tartar? You don't have any allergies to shellfish, do you?"

"Well, let me put it like this, I haven't met a piece of seafood that survived once it met my fork and knife."

The server smiled which erased ten years off his age, whatever that might have been.

As I moved down the spread so did the server and it wasn't helping to ease my paranoia. Did he think I was going to stuff my clutch with crumpets or something? Or was the scent of my perfume just that alluring?

I ignored him until I reached the end of the table were there were several goblets lined up filled with a salmon colored liquid.

"What's this?" I asked and picked up a glass.

The server smirked. "An exotic blend of various fruits from around the world with some…additional proteins added for taste, ma'am."

That sounded suspect. I took a cursory sniff and lifted a brow. It smelled sweet but some things that smelled sweet had a bitter taste. Just as I made a conscious decision to take a sip, the glass was confiscated by a masculine hand and placed back on the table.

My incredulous eyes flew up and crashed into impenetrable steel-gray. Immediately the anger that rose up in me deflated and I lowered my arched eyebrows, and told my mouth to relax.

"You don't want to drink that," Christian advised and then he reached for the flute of champagne that had been in my other hand. I handed it over and watched as Mr. Grey placed his lips exactly where my lipstick stain was. He tipped his head back and swallowed the golden liquid in one gulp, and then the sexy bastard had the audacity to lick his lips once he was finished.

I might have stopped breathing for a second. Should he have done that?

Christian handed the empty glass over to a passing waiter, and then extended his arm. "The cocktail hour is winding down. We should take our seats."

I took my boss' outstretched arm, lightly gripping his bicep.

We began to weave our way through the crowd. It didn't take long for me to notice a very obvious trend.

The most distinguished, and by that I mean rich men had a dime piece attached to his arm. A statuesque woman half his age, half his weight, endowed in all the right places, and sometimes taller or the same height as her escort. That wasn't surprising. As I began to focus on the older ladies assembled, they too had beautiful, gorgeous men—men that looked like they fell from Mt. Olympus and landed here to live as mortals glued to their hips. It was an interestingly mixed crowd of overachievers with their showpieces, and if I didn't know I had a college degree and worked for a living I would begin to feel as if I were a kept woman adorned on a multi-millionaire's arm.

Just as we made it to our table, a man stepped into our path. My eyes went up and up and yet again my jaw nearly took a plunge to the floor.

Standing before me was the finest Asian man I had ever laid eyes on. He was taller than Christian, probably stood at six-three maybe six-four. The man was attired in a gunmetal gray suit, which he filled out very well, with a white button down shirt, skinny black tie, and this fall's Armani loafers. My eyes traveled back up to his face. Oval in shape, unblemished ivory skin, slanted onyx eyes were shielded by obscenely long lashes. He wore his ink-black hair cropped in a faux hawk. A trim beard hugged his face, and highlighted his severe cheekbones, and a mouth made for kissing.

Very politely I wanted to ask if I could sit on his face.

Mr. Grey extended a hand out to the man who eagerly shook it. Then my boss began to speak in what I could only assume was Chinese. I kept quiet because really what kind of input could I make. The man, still shaking Christian's hand responded in a rapid burst of whatever language they were speaking, and then his jet black eyes shifted over to me.

I felt like a doe that just heard a hunter pull an arrow out of his quiver.

"Bonnie Bennett I'd like you to meet Dr. Henry Gao. He's one of the leading hematologists, and he's also something of a medical genius in utilizing nanotechnology to recreate stem cells."

That meant absolutely nothing to me. Aside from the hematology part. I knew what that was about. Blood.

I shook Dr. Gao's hand. He had a nice grip, big hand, warm palm.

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Bennett," Dr. Gao said and I fully expected clouds to form and lightning to flash because his voice reminded me of thunder.

"The pleasure is mine, Dr. Gao."

"Please, call me Henry," he let go of my hand and then began speaking with my boss in Chinese while I rocked on my heels; at least mentally that's what I was doing.

"So phase two of the project is running smoothly and on schedule?" Christian asked in English.

"There have been some minor delays and set backs with the test subjects—legalities," the doctor waved it off like it was unimportant. "But everything else has been progressing nicely. You'll receive a detailed report at the summit coming up in Copenhagen."

Summit? What summit? There wasn't one scheduled on Mr. Grey's calendar. When I was sure they weren't looking, I dug my BlackBerry out of my bag and typed myself a note. I wrote down Dr. Gao's name so I could Google him, then what he specialized in, and finally the summit in Copenhagen, test subjects, and legalities.

"If you all could take your seats, we're ready to begin," Elena Lincoln's voice rang throughout the room.

Christian and Henry shook hands again and then resumed speaking in Chinese. From what I could interpret they made plans to get together soon over drinks, golf, whatever it was men with power, money, and traffic stopping good looks did.

With my boss' hand planted firmly on the small of my back, Mr. Grey ushered us over to a round table that was occupied by an assortment of couples. Quietly we greeted those seated, and then my attention went to the front of the ballroom where the head table was. I wondered for a second if perhaps Christian should be sitting up there since he was being honored instead of sitting next to me.

Elena must have been sharing my same thought pattern because she craned her neck to and fro searching for Mr. Grey, and when she found him, even from the great distance separating us, I could tell her eyes had narrowed.

Instead of nudging Mr. Grey with my elbow like I would have done to anyone else, I lightly cleared my throat.

His eyes were on me in an instant.

"Shouldn't you be sitting at the head table since you're being honored tonight, sir?" I asked softly.

Christian leaned forward, eating away the space separating us. Instinctively I wanted to lean away, but I remained rooted to my spot.

"Under different circumstances I would take my place with the other honorees, but tonight I'm in the mood to do something different."

Okay, I guess I could decipher that anyway I wanted to especially under my boss' direct stare.

I licked my lips a little and saw Christian's eyes drop to take it in before they lifted to meet my gaze once more.

"What was in that drink, Mr. Grey?" I had to change the subject.

"Christian," he quickly corrected.

"Christian," I repeated.

Mr. Grey sat back against the chair, right arm resting on the table. "A powerful mix of aphrodisiacs."

"A- Aphrodisiacs?" I replied dubiously.

Christian nodded once. "If you haven't noticed there are several men in attendance who are older, wiser," he added a beguiling nearly sinister smile. "Unfortunately things might not operate as they once did. Low testosterone leads to erectile dysfunction," My. Grey retorted bluntly. "I don't have such a problem."

Gulp, and like a pervert my eyes lowered to his crotch where I saw the definite print of his longbow. Shiver me timbers!

Quickly I glanced away and Mr. Grey half laughed half groaned. When I chanced looking at him, his eyes were stuck on me like a peg board, assessing, taking my measure with those stupid pupils enlarging and shrinking.

I picked up the water glass and took several large gulps. "Why would that kind of drink be necessary? This is a fundraiser, right?" Not an orgy? I couldn't ask that and not embarrass myself to death.

Mr. Grey nodded that tousled copper head of his again.

"I feel like I'm missing something very obvious, Mr.—Christian."

"It's a silent auction, Bonnie," Mr. Grey filled in the blank. "What or more appropriately who is up for bid are twenty-five of Elena's closest male friends. Some men need a little boost on the confidence end." Pause. "I'm on the list of being bid on."

Had not been expecting that and I'm sure my face registered my surprise. Hopefully Christian wasn't expecting me to bid on him. That spelled all kinds of trouble and all kinds of wrong. I already had more than one dirty thought about him, and Dr. Gao, and the small inferno that had been burning between my thighs earlier was put on pause not fully extinguished.

"Chicken or beef?" Christian pondered suddenly.

I blinked, confused until I realized he had been asking me what I wanted off the menu. I answered without looking at what came with each entrée. "Beef. I haven't had red meat in a while."

Christian's mouth automatically opened to respond but he hesitated, his silver orbs fixed on the placard in front of him, but ever so slowly that left eyeball traveled until it looked at me askance.

"What do you have a burning desire for dessert, Bonnie?"

Burning desire, he didn't want to go there with me, and I needed to put a massive stop to this innuendo game we had been playing. I wasn't foolish to think everything had been one-sided all evening. Several times I caught my boss red-handed checking me out, and then sometimes he didn't even try to hide it. Instead of allowing this to continue I should have stormed out and demanded he return me to my empty apartment. Encouraging his behavior would reflect poorly on me, not him because he's male, but because I'm female I should know better. That's what society would say.

And the best of society was right under this roof getting drunk on natural Viagra.

"I don't think I have a taste for dessert tonight, Christian."

A corner of his mouth turned down in disappointment. "Pity. The pineapple soufflé is divine."

"Is that a personal favorite of yours?"

"I don't have much of a sweet tooth, but I do like to sample, and I'll try anything once. If I like something, I tend to overindulge. A lot. Restraint…not my thing. I also have a problem with waste so I devour everything on my plate until there's nothing left."

Yeah, I pretty much drained the rest of my water while Christian smirked at my plight. I never spent an excessive amount of time trying to figure out the kind of man Christian Grey was. He was an enigma, a puzzle with interchangeable parts that sometimes turned into chameleons, blended in and made it impossible to make a cohesive picture. He was intelligent, impatient, generous, self-centered, but I didn't know what his weaknesses were. Everyone had them, had some vice they couldn't shake that no amount of therapy or going cold turkey could outrun.

I simply just didn't know how to categorize him. He was my employer but the way he was speaking and behaving with me tonight made those employer/employee boundaries null and void. I didn't think Christian was doing it so I could be comfortable in his presence. He hadn't ignored me like he did at work when the important people showed up for meetings, and he delegated everything to The Blondes leaving me to play Bejeweled Blitz on my Mac. Mr. Grey had been attentive, not territorial, and sometimes I did get the distinct impression he was showing me off, but other than being proud he worked with a beautiful woman, I could discern nothing else.

The lights dimmed and then a projection screen lowered from the ceiling. The evening was beginning with a video montage of how the money raised to support The H2O Project was utilized. Intermittedly people clapped when they saw a familiar face float across the screen. The music that had been dubbed to play along with the video was "Earth Song" by musical icon Michael Jackson.

Mr. Grey appeared larger-than-life on screen wearing a dirty plain white T-shirt that clung to his torso, drenched in sweat over blue jeans while he carried a bag that might have been fertilizer over a brawny shoulder. Seeing him take an actual hands-on approach to bettering the world humanized him even more. He wasn't just another high roller who wrote checks to placate the IRS, or only lent a hand after a natural disaster struck hoping to improve his public image. Mr. Grey was a humanitarian.

The claps, cheers, and whistles were especially loud for him, and because his back was to me I couldn't see his face. It was probably nothing but stone anyways. Christian wasn't the type to get embarrassed easily if at all.

He blatantly told me his dick wasn't dysfunctional. Who does that? Someone proud and unashamed, obviously.

There were more snapshots of my boss talking with the locals in whatever country he was in. It might have been the Congo or Sudan or Sierra Leone. I wasn't sure. And then the money shot, of my boss resting on his haunches at the completion of another successfully built well where he and three small boys enjoyed their first glass of clean, purified water. He was smiling, full blown, yes-I-see-my-dentist-every-six months smiling.

I sighed. I wasn't the only one.

The music stopped, the screen faded to black, the house lights came on, and then people were standing and clapping. I joined them.

Elena stood behind the podium, spoke into the microphone and read over the laundry list of things Mr. Grey had done in several countries during the course of the year, and then she called him to the stage.

Christian briefly looked at me and I doubled my applause as he made his way to the head table. He bounded up the platform, kissed Elena, accepted his plaque, shook hands, smiled, and then he was back at the table. No speech.

Tonight was about him, but he didn't want it to be about him. I guess I could add modesty to the list.

Dinner was delicious; conversations flowed like the Cristal that filled my glass at least three times throughout the course of the evening. Some couples were dancing, but I declined offers left from right. Christian was up mingling once again, but had returned because now it was time for the actual "fundraiser" part of the night.

"Too perfect," I murmured, stuffed belly and practically purring like a kitten.

Christian regarded me speculatively as he finished up his tiramisu. "What's too perfect?"

"You," I answered unabashedly.

My response made him smile almost demurely. "I'm far from perfect, Miss Bennett."

"Bonnie," I corrected for the first time.

A definite shift happened.

Gray eyes turned nearly feline as they latched on to my face and smoldered. "Bonnie," Mr. Grey amended. "You think I'm the good guy, the superhero? What if I am the bad guy?"

I shrugged. Being around bad guys didn't scare me off considering what I could do to one. "Do you want to blow up a hospital?"

Christian looked befuddled. "No."

"Assassinate a public figure?"

"Haven't had the urge lately," he deadpanned.

My lips twitched but I maintained my line of questioning. "Do you want to become a human trafficker?"

"No."

"Then I'd say you're very bad at being bad, Christian. Bad guys don't waste their time or money building wells in deprived countries trying to extend the lives of small children with distended bellies. They don't smile at children who are orphans, or are sadly on their way to being orphans because of the wholesale genocide that happens around them non-stop. You're not bad, Christian."

Mr. Grey dropped his fork and then rested his hand on the back of my chair. I felt his breath as he began speaking. "I'm not good either, Bonnie. My business world is my professional suit of armor, but I don't wear this suit all the time. When I take it off…"

"You become someone else," I finished for him. "Then that's something we share in common, Mr. Grey."

"Christian," he lightly growled.

"I like who I am more," I went on to say ignoring his correction, "I become my real self when I take my professional clothes off."

A flush appeared, overtaking Mr. Grey's cheeks and the tips of his ears. His nostrils flared and I felt through the fabric of the chair that he was squeezing it for dear life, but other than those cues nothing about him seemed remiss, shaken, thrown off its equilibrium.

"You're not what I thought you were," Christian whispered.

"What did you think I was?" An elf, I mentally snorted.

He turned away from me and sighed heavily. "Uncomplicated."

Elena Lincoln was back up at the podium killing my ears with her voice. "Now we've arrived at the fun part of the evening. The results of the silent auction."

The crowd clapped and energy started to renew itself.

Ms. Lincoln resumed speaking once the applause died down and filled in those who were attending for the first time or simply reminding those who had been to one of her events, the parameters of the silent auction. Each of the "Johns" had to write out a detailed description on what a date with them would entail, but they weren't allowed to give their name. It was a way to avoid favoritism as I'm sure everyone who had placed a bid would have gone after my boss.

To speed things along, Elena only read out the highest bids which started at fifty-thousand on up.

I clapped politely when a geriatric retired politician stood up to be claimed by a disappointed looking thirtysomething woman who was clearly out of sixty thousand dollars, but she would be traveling to Mexico via yacht so that had to make up for something. Right?

The second to highest bid came from a severe looking fembot who wrote a check for a hundred and eighty thousand dollars to be whisked to the Swiss Alps by a bioengineer. The guy, I didn't want to label him a nerd but his glasses could be misconstrued for a telescope, smacked his chops together the minute he saw who would be his owner for forty-eight hours.

It would appear only two people were winning tonight: the people the money was being raised for, and the less fortunate gentlemen who had to sell themselves in order to get a date.

I fidgeted a little in my seat when Ms. Lincoln began to read out the highest bid in the history of her fundraiser and how the luck lady would be entertained.

"…a two-night private stay in the United Arab Emirates city of Dubai…"

That's all Ms. Lincoln had to say was Dubai. Who didn't want to go to Dubai, be treated like royalty, be chauffeured around in a Maybach, gorge oneself on delicious food, shop at the best of the best boutiques and jewelry stores, and go on camel rides along sandy beaches with perfect crystal blue water? Who. Did. Not. Want. That? I nearly pouted in my seat because I couldn't go.

"For a staggering $1.2 million dollars that privilege goes to my dear friend Eshe Fukayna."

Heads swiveled and turned to where Ms. Lincoln was pointing. My eyes landed on an irritatingly beautiful woman with deep russet skin who appeared to be more deity than woman in her Zuhair Murad gown that fit her dangerously curvaceous body like a glove.

"Christian Grey come meet your date."

My eyes enlarged as my boss rose from the table and then buttoned his jacket as people stood up, yet again to cheer that naturally the highest bid would land on his perfectly disheveled head.

Eshe meet Christian half way where she was given kisses on the cheek to which she reciprocated, and then took possession of his arm. She wasn't jumping up and down and acting like she won the lottery. Everything about her was regale and composed but those doe brown eyes of hers were practically spitting fireworks. She had spent her money extremely well is what her face read.

I was happy for my boss, happy for those the money raised would assist, but I wasn't so happy for myself at the moment. Eshe could make Miss Universe look like Smeagol from The Lord of the Rings.

For me the night was dragging and my bed was calling. And speaking of calling I checked my cell and saw that Svetlana had called me and left a voice mail message. It probably had something to do with Fourth of July since I had invited her to tag along and hang out with me and Rebekah and a few others.

Not so surprisingly the ex sent me a text message and when I opened it up I saw penis. The jerk. Of course not to be completely chauvinistic, he sent me a picture of his chest and said that his heart and his pecker missed me. Aww, how sweet. Gag me.

"Are you ready to leave or would you like to stay a while longer?"

Christian startled me and I dropped my phone. He bent to pick it up, but I hadn't closed out of my text inbox, and so I snatched it before he could reach it. My face was aflame.

"If you want to stay you can. Taylor, with your permission of course, Sir, can see me home."

"Nonsense. Elena has monopolized enough of my time for the night. Let's go."

Hearing that transported me back to the past. I had to shake it off. I stood up from the chair. "What about your date? I imagine Ms. Fukayna would be eager to get started considering how much she bid."

"That's been settled. I can't exactly go on holiday right now. I have several projects I'm overseeing that need my attention. She's a patient woman and you know what they say about patience, good things happen to those who wait," he eyed me—hard.

"Right, sir," I blanched. We began walking towards the front of the property. "Just to be clear you will be in the office next week as your schedule dictates?"

Christian nodded curtly. "Yes. I don't want to see you until next Tuesday. I mean that with all seriousness and sincerity, Bonnie. Take an additional day of vacation."

"You don't have to twist my arm."

"Good." Christian looked like he was itching to say more but censored himself. He called Taylor and told him to bring the car around.

"Oh, your plaque," I remembered at the last second.

"I'll have Elena FedEx it to me," he said uncaringly.

The humidity was still screaming like a banshee at close to midnight and already I missed the air conditioned coolness of The Lincoln estate. The Bentley was waiting and I easily slid inside.

The ride back to my humble abode was more subdued. The silence was punctuated with the sounds of Bjork. Wouldn't take Christian Grey as a fan of Bjork, but to each its own.

I waited for Taylor to bound out of the car to open the door the second we arrived at my place. I turned to face Mr. Grey, his face once again a perfectly impenetrable mask. I wanted to say I wanted to know him, wanted to know if he really saw himself as a bad guy. I'm sure he had questionable habits, and nefarious appetites that might shock, but from where I was standing he seemed harmless enough. Even a yellow jacket from time to time can be as docile has a house cat until they felt threatened, I reminded myself.

"I had fun tonight, Mr. Grey. I wish…I wish I could attend more events, get to know more people in the industry. Don't get me wrong, I like what I do, but I wouldn't mind more challenging assignments. I think my proven track record and reliability speaks for itself."

"You're petitioning me for more work?" his question sounded more like a reproach.

"In a way," I muttered awkwardly. "Only if you think I'm capable of more responsibility, sir. It's your call."

Christian inclined his head reminding me of a modern day Mr. Darcy. "I'll see what I can do. Thank you for accompanying me, Miss Bennett."

"Bonnie."

His lips tugged but he fought against smiling. He glared at me slightly for challenging his alpha male status before his features evened out. "Bonnie," he relented at last.

The door opened and I was pulled not hauled from the car like an overzealous fan. "Good night, Taylor."

"Good night, Miss Bennett."

I sashayed, only a little, to the front door, looked over my shoulder but couldn't make out my boss through the heavily tinted window, but I didn't need to see him to know that his eyes were watching me.

I was the captain of the ship. Quite literally. I was steering Marcel's very expensive, very fast speed boat as fifteen rowdy supernaturals with some humans thrown into the mix screamed and held up beer bottles as I throttled the engine. At the last second it was decided that we wouldn't be heading to Boone Island as it appeared everyone and their mother decided to crowd the archipelago, and instead we were going to a neighboring island called Sibley Isle which was five miles west of Boone.

This hadn't been the original plan. Me and Rebekah celebrating the Fourth with Marcel and his harem. Marcel had called me up out of the blue, inquired of my plans, and when I told them what they were he vetoed them like he was the president, and told me I was hanging out with him.

After I stopped mentally fangirling, I calmly told him I had to confer with my bestie because the last thing I wanted to was to incur Rebekah's wrath the second she found out who was behind changing our plans. I spent a good forty-five minutes arguing with her back and forth until finally she snapped that I was picking her up, that I was buying all her liquor, that I was doing everything she wanted to do regardless if I were in the mood or not. I agreed and then, I was off to escort the queen to the shipping dock where we piled our luggage for lack of a better word on to Marcel's boat.

His naked torso was the first thing I greeted before smiling and hugging him, but not too tight. Like always Rebekah's greeting was cool and bordered on hostile, but Marcel took it and her in stride having come to expect nothing less from the blond bombshell.

Sibley, by boat, was a thirty-five minute ride and two minutes in, Marcel asked me if I wanted to drive. I questioned his sanity, but he brushed off my concerns and said, "What are you going to crash into a dolphin?"

Hardy-har-har.

"You're a natural," Marcel complimented as he stood and kept watch to make sure I didn't do something idiotic and seriously wreck his boat. "But I would expect nothing less from Cinderella."

"Thanks," I said keeping my eyes ahead. Ocean water sprayed my face and ruined my do, but it was okay because I was on vacation and really didn't have anyone to impress.

I couldn't help the fact that my thoughts never strayed far from Christian Grey. He was in Vancouver by now, and though he didn't appear to be the type to man a grill, something told me he enjoyed traditional holidays.

"What have you been doing with yourself these days?" Marcel questioned. "You haven't been to the club in a minute."

I grinned. "Are you keeping tabs on me?"

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not," he replied ambiguously. "I've heard you're a busy woman."

"Where'd you hear that from?"

"Around."

"Could you be more specific?" I didn't like it when people beat around the bush. Just spit it out. We're all adults to some degree.

"If you take a guess you'd probably get it right. I just know…I don't want to step on any toes."

I looked at Marcel then. "If there are toes present then I advise you to step on them, crush them if you have to."

He laughed, liking the sound of that. "I'll keep that in mind."

"I think we're coming up to the island, Marcel."

"Let me squeeze on by," the tall, dark, and handsome vampire retook control of the wheel. I slid away and kept watch as Marcel handled the boat like he was driving a car.

Easily we docked then disembarked bringing our load with us. Folding chairs were set up near the water's edge, coolers were opened, retractable grills were fired up, and jet skies were un-tethered. I made myself comfortable under the shade of an umbrella.

"Get up," Rebekah pulled me off my beach towel. "We're going out."

I hopped on the back of her jet ski where she played chicken with one of Club Lamia's famed bouncers. The dude crashed, we didn't, and laughed maniacally.

I certainly worked up an appetite squeezing Rebekah until my arms and inner thighs felt sore. She pulled up the jet ski to allow someone else a turn, and then we helped ourselves to sugary soda, hamburgers and hotdogs grilled to burnt perfection.

"Looks like your friend Svetlana is making a name for herself," Rebekah pointed out before taking a massive bite of her hamburger.

I looked behind me and caught sight of Svetlana putting on some kind of strip show. She wasn't coming out of her bathing suit, but she was making a grand show of sliding off the sarong covering her up. Svetlana was dramatic, Russian, insanely beautiful, and hailed from a wealthy family. She worked primarily as a hobby, jumped from relationship to relationship because her mind was fickle and she loved to have fun. The second things began to turn serious after spending a night in "Mother Russia", and her paramour wanted more Svetlana packed her bags, grabbed her passport, and got ghost. She left many a broken-hearted souls behind. But she was loveable and hilarious and reminded me of Caroline in some respects.

"She's all right. Now, when she tries to show exactly how limber she is, that's when I'll start to worry," I trailed off as I noticed another speed boat headed towards the dock. "Who's that?"

Rebekah took off her Jackie-O shades and squinted. "Bullocks."

"What?"

"You'll see."

Ugh!

"Are you sure he didn't implant a tracking device somewhere on you, Bonnie?"

I wouldn't be surprised if Damon did.

My ex was pulling up to the island in a black speed boat, but he had someone with him. I gasped and was up and on my feet racing to the dock before I could tell myself to stop.

"Stefan!"

The vampire in question had just tied off the boat but spun around when he heard me screaming his name. I launched myself and he caught me, hugged me, and swung me like a rag doll before putting me on my feet. I couldn't believe he was here and I couldn't believe I was this happy to see him.

"What are you doing here?!" I looked him over expecting him to disintegrate or vaporize.

Stefan was smiling a bit shyly because he hated being put on the spot. "I came to surprise my brother and now I guess I'm surprising you."

At the mention of Damon, I turned to regard him. He was taking his sweet time climbing on to the dock.

"No hug for me?" he leered standing before me shirtless in a pair of black board shorts that hung loose on his lean hips. For a second I followed his happy trail of dark hair before it disappeared under the waistband of his shorts.

I sighed heavily. "Hi, Damon," and smiled perfunctorily.

He nodded in acceptance of the fact that he would be getting no love, not from this one.

Stefan's hand on my shoulder drew my attention back to him. I still couldn't believe he was here and soon dozens, hundreds of memories flew to the forefront of my mind and I saw Stefan standing behind his brother in his tux as I walked down the aisle. Then I saw him bleeding and crying on the ground after being ambushed, and finally the memories emptied out until the only thing left was the crestfallen expression on his face as I walked out of the courtroom once a judge legally cut my familial ties with him.

I had hurt Stefan as much as I hurt Damon when I filed for a divorce, and honestly I wasn't thinking about how it would affect him because I was only concerned with getting out. I never confided in Stefan about what was going on because I knew if I did he would only talk me into staying. Stefan had been able to convince me to do anything, which made him dangerous, and he sometimes used that against me. To be free, I knew I had to get away from him also.

But Damon was determined to be a black hole, a strong gravitational force that used everything it had to pull me back in. Including his brother.

"It's good to see you, Bonnie," Stefan said in earnest.

"It's good to see you, too. I'm shocked to see you outside of Mystic Falls."

"Stefan…are you going to help me unload? Half this crap is your hair care products," Damon griped interrupting us as usual. The dark-haired Salvatore liked the fact I had been close to his brother, but at the same time he didn't like it because he felt it hindered on our time.

Exasperatedly, Stefan rolled his eyes and went to go assist the diva.

I moved out of the way and watched as they loaded their arms with bags and we all headed down the pier to join the rest of the group.

Marcel eyed them suspiciously but tipped up a bottle in greeting.

Damon unceremoniously dropped his belongings and right before I knew he was about to operate in vampire speed, I caught him by the wrist and shook my head in warning that there were humans present. He peered at me a while before that naughty glint crept into his eyes as he took in my black and white bikini.

"Cut that out," I admonished and let him go.

He winked and proceeded at human speed setting up camp.

"Hey, Stefan let me introduce you to everyone."

"Oh, I met everyone last night," my former brother-in-law clued me in.

I blinked. Naturally Damon would show Stefan the sights since he abhorred idleness and didn't like sitting around twiddling his thumbs.

"Rebekah is here if you want to say hi," I told him.

"Yeah," Stefan wiggled his thick fingers at her. "She's scowling at me," he smiled.

"No, that's her smile," I refuted. "Take a walk with me down the beach?"

He nodded and then clapped Damon none-too-gently on the arm. His well-defined arm. "You have everything covered, right? I'll be back."

"I fail to see how I'm being blown off when you showed your inconvenient ass on my doorstep asking me to take you in and feed you."

"That's what I thought. You have everything covered," Stefan then slung an arm over my shoulder and the two of us headed down the beach. The whole while Damon was flaying the both of us alive with the solar flares erupting from his orbs.

My feet sank into the wet sand before it was covered with frothy bubbles. Stefan and I were silent for a minute and then started speaking simultaneously.

"After you," Stefan conceded.

I wrung my hands together. My heart began beating triple time. "I need to apologize, Stefan. We haven't talked or seen each other in a year and we were really close. I was wrong. I shouldn't have cut you out of my life simply because I didn't want to be with Damon anymore."

"Bonnie, I understand why you did it, and yeah it hurt me, but I understood. I know better than anyone how domineering, overbearing, and pig-headed my brother can be, and I knew it would only be so much of that you would take before exploding. I just wish you would have talked to me and maybe I could have talked to Damon…"

I grabbed Stefan by the arm, halting his forward progress. Everything about him was the same. From his classically handsome looks, to the way he tried to shoulder everyone's responsibility on his shoulders.

"It wasn't your job to fix our relationship." I pushed my hair behind my ear. "That's why I didn't say anything because I knew you'd be you, and I didn't want you to be in the middle of it, or have to choose sides. But I'm glad you understand."

Stefan nodded. "You know I view you as my sister, Bonnie. That's never going to change. I just wished…you would have viewed me as your brother."

I dipped my head. Shame sat on my shoulders and taunted me in my ear that said serves you right, the guilt you're feeling right now. Stefan wasn't just Damon Salvatore's younger brother who struggled with bloodlust, and had a dark ripper side that sometimes poked its crazy head out. He had been my brother, too. Growing up as an only child was tough, but it was what I had grown used to. So having a brother was an adjustment for me, and I could admit that I kept Stefan at arm's length pertaining to certain things. I didn't always look at him as a brother, and if I had, there wouldn't have been anyway I could have turned my back on him the way I did.

"I'm sorry," I murmured.

Stefan pulled me into another hug. "It's okay. I forgive you." Pause. "Damon tells me you're working."

"What else has Damon told you?" I deadpanned.

"He still says you're the most beautiful woman in the world."

"Trying to butter me up on his behalf…I see something's haven't changed."

"The ship has sailed?"

"The ship has crashed, burned, sank, and is currently being raided by salvagers."

That earned a dark chuckle from my ex bro-in-law. "You seem happy."

"I am," I admitted easily. "So do you. New girl?"

A bashful expression overtook Stefan's face. He started rubbing his neck. It was something he did whenever he was feeling nervous or shy. I was practically beaming.

"Stefan Eugene Salvatore!"

"Could you say that any louder? I don't think the vampires in Papua New Guinea heard you," he groused.

I punched Stefan on the arm which only ended up hurting me in the process. "Who is it?"

"I'm keeping things under wraps for now."

"You know I am psychic and all it will take is one little touch to your temporal lobe…" I started reaching for it.

Stefan was quick to duck my hand and held up a finger in warning. "If you don't want to be dunked I suggest you keep away from the hair."

I laughed. It was a bit startling how easily we fell back into our old routine our old pattern of teasing one another, sharing laughs as if I hadn't scissor cut myself out of his life, moved across the US, and hadn't spoken to him in over a year.

I wrapped my arm around his waist. "I missed you, Stefan."

He kissed my forehead. "I missed you too, little sis."

By the time we returned, Rebekah was playing cards, Marcel was drinking, laughing, and manning a grill, and Svetlana was practically sitting in Damon's lap.

I didn't bother to look at Stefan knowing he was trying to gauge my reaction to seeing a friend of mine attempting to get in my ex-husband's pants. A side-effect of being with an immortal was that they drew attention from the fairer sex like moths to a flame. I've had to endure my share of women gawking at Damon, openly making passes at him even while I held his hand. There were times where I found napkins, pieces of paper with numbers scrawled on them in the pockets of his leather jacket whenever he left it out in public. Damon astonishingly had been completely monogamous. He never cheated on me. In fact, women became invisible to him unless he was hungry.

There was only a few times where I questioned why he decided to be with me when he could have been with someone else i.e. another vampire, someone older with more life experience. His answer had been the same: He loved me and he didn't want anyone else.

I used to pull on that when I would start to feel insecure, and in a way I was pulling on that now even though Damon was well within his rights to move on and be with someone else. It's what I practically shoved in his face that he should do.

"I'm going for a dip," I attempted to throw a smile at Stefan who wasn't buying my cool façade.

I waded out to the water, disappeared underneath the turquoise waves, and didn't resurface until I swam some distance away.

Where I ended up I couldn't be seen which was fine. I needed a moment alone. Tilting my head up to catch the sun, I rotated my head on my shoulders, and allowed the steady breeze to cool my skin.

A cool hand brushed my wet hair off my shoulder. Knuckles ghosted along my back before fingers traced my sides. My breathing changed and I shivered.

"What do you want, Damon?"

He rested his chin on my shoulder. "Aren't you tired of asking that rhetorical question?"

"Aren't you tired of being rejected?" I rebutted.

"Rejection is the greatest aphrodisiac."

"Okay, Madonna," I rolled my eyes.

"I like that song. 'Forbidden Love' it suits us." Pause. "Watch the fireworks with me, portafortuna. Share my beach towel. Hold my hand."

"Get lost you girl!" It was difficult trying not to laugh.

Damon chuckled and kissed my cheek. "Come on, Cinderella, I'll race you back."

I glared at my ex. He called me Cinderella and only one person called me that.

Now it became clear why Marcel didn't want to "step on any toes". Damon. Something's really didn't change.

Chapter end.

A/N: Yes, it would appear that the reunion between Stefonnie happened easily and fluidly, but that's not to say everything is kosher. And you will see Dr. Henry Gao in future chapters and if you need a point of reference for who I had in mind to portray him, Google Godfrey Gao. Wowzers! I hoped you guys enjoyed this. Let me know what you think. I'll be back with another update as soon as possible, and I would love to update my other stories as I know some are waiting, but this story has me by my figurative balls, lol. But I'll try to lessen the pressure. Until next time love you!