Anastasia's new iPad was a handy tool—the downloaded application of medical journals, articles, and textbooks were massively useful. Although she could have used her extensive eidetic memory, she wanted something tangible to reread and refresh her memory on certain topics. Sometimes she needed to read something on screen or a book, preferably.

Christian entered the upstairs bedroom, inquiring softly, "What are you reading?" He was delighted that she was making use of and thoroughly enjoying his gift.

As she moved on to the next page with a swipe of a finger, he stretched out beside her, eyes curiously scanning the medical journal she was reading as he furrowed his brows curiously in amusement.

She answered distractedly, "It's a journal on personality disorders."

"On this site for a reason?" He asked nonchalantly.

Anastasia panicked briefly, finally being aware of the forwardness of her answer. When her eyes met with his, she relaxed a bit more—brusque Christian was gone, and playful Christian was back.

"You know me," she answered shyly. "I was curious. Just a little research into difficult personalities and disorders."

His lips twitched with a suppressed smile. "A difficult personality?"

"I was curious!" She repeated in exclamation.

"Yes you are." He smirked.

"It's my own pet project," she smiled proudly at him.

"I'm a pet project now? A sideline. Science experiment maybe. When I thought I was everything." His hand went to his chest dramatically. "Miss Steele, you wound me."

She lifted her brow, teasing him. "How do you know it's you? I just read about narcissistic personalities by the way."

"Wild guess," he chuckled at her superfluously patronizing comment before smirking again.

"It's true," the brunette nodded. "You are the only fucked-up, mercurial control freak that I know, intimately."

"I thought I was the only person you know intimately?" His brow arched, messing with her words.

Color came to her cheeks. "Yes. That, too."

"Have you reached any conclusions, Doctor Steele?" The way he said her name made her body melt, immediately flushing more as her face turned and gazed at him. He was on his side, stretched out beside her with his head resting on his elbow, his expression soft and amused while his other hand rubbed against her thigh.

Responding honestly and distractedly from his hand, the surgeon said, "Well, there are ten personality disorders categorized and clustered into three groups—a, b, and c." She ran her fingers through her head, pondering her thoughts for a moment as she pushed away the good feeling of his stroking hand. "If I had to put you in a category of some kind, you'd be diagnosed with a borderline personality disorder or a dependent personality disorder—Clusters B or C."

"So, treatments?" She smiled, rubbing his cheek as he stared wide-eyed and intrigued. "Though, I'm no psychiatrist, psychologist, or neurologist. All I would recommend is checking with either one of them and getting into intense therapy."

Christian grinned, leaning up and kissing her softly before murmuring gently against her lips, "I like when you talk all doctor and medical to me." Reaching up and gently tucking her hair behind her eyes, he said, "Though, I think I'm in need of you."

She breathed gently against his lips, smiling warmly. See? If you're in need of me, I'd say that you definitely have a dependent personality disorder.

"Here." He handed a tube of lipstick.

Anastasia blinked at the makeup on his hand, taking it from him and revealing the color by turning the tube. She frowned at him, perplexed.

It was a harlot red shade, a color she'd never usually pick out for herself. "You want me to wear this?" She squeaked, blinking at him as she made a face.

Christian laughed. "No, Anastasia, not unless you want to. I'm not sure it's your color," he finished dryly. He suddenly sat up and stripped himself of his shirt, dragging it over his head. Oh…Yes… "I like your roadmap idea."

She stared blankly at him, still remaining puzzled. Hmm…roadmap?

"The no-go areas," he said by way of explanation.

"Oh! Christian, I was just kidding when I said that."

"I'm not."

Bewildered, she asked lifting up the makeup in her hand, "You want me to draw on you, with lipstick?"

"It washes off," he stated and agreed. "Eventually."

Considering his proposition, a small smile of exciting wonder played on her lips. I could touch him. She smirked, playfully adding, "What about…a Sharpie? Something more permanent."

"Or I could get a tattoo." His eyes are alight with humor.

Her jaw dropped, regretting her joke. Marking your beautiful body when it's already been burned deep by your past? She laughed gently but her eyes were full of horror, "No to the tattoo!"

"Lipstick, then," he retorted with a grin, beaming brightly as he laughed with her.

Pushing the iPad aside, she giggled and smiled. This could be fun.

"Come." He held his hand out. "Sit on me."

She carefully scrambled into a sitting position, crawling over him. He lay down on the bed but kept his knees flexed. "Lean against my legs," he instructed.

She clambered over him and sat astride as she followed his instructions. His gray eyes were wide and cautious, but he was just as amused as she was.

"You seem…enthusiastic for this," he commented wryly.

"A chance at learning more?" Gold eyes gleamed down at him all warm and giddy. "You know how I am. I'm always curious and eager for information, Mr. Grey, and it means that you could relax because I'll know where your boundaries lie. You can trust me."

He shook his head, pondering and wondering if his idea was as good as he thought it'd be. "Open the lipstick," he ordered.

There's my bossy Christian. She did what he said before following his further instructions.

"Give me your hand."

Anastasia gave her other, empty hand to him.

"The one with lipstick." He rolled his eyes at her.

Well, sor-ry. "Are you rolling your eyes at me?"

"Yep."

"That's very rude, Mr. Grey. I know some people who get positively violent at eye-rolling."

"Do you, now?" His tone was wry and ironic.

She shook her head, giving him her hand with the lipstick. Suddenly, he sat up, surprising her as they met nose to nose.

"Ready?" Christian asked in a hushed whispered, trying to curb away his fear and anxiety as she tensed and tightened from the sound.

"Yes," she breathed, a response as light as a breeze. He was so close to her; the proximity allured her to him—his toned flesh against hers as his trademark, Christian-scent mixed with his body wash filled her nose and senses.

He guided her hand shakily up to the curve of his shoulder.

It's okay, Christian. I have you.

"Press down." Christian struggled with his answer, releasing the air from his lungs. Anastasia's amusement was gone, replaced by a solemn, determined concentration as the look on her eyes softened with compassion. Her mouth went dry as he directed her hand down, from the top of his shoulder, around his arm socket, then down the side of his chest. The lipstick left a broad, livid red streak in its wake. He stopped at the bottom of his ribcage, and then directed her running hand across his stomach. He watched her eyes fix onto his body, tensed and staring deeply into her eyes. There was restraint in his eyes, along with shaky fear, but his impassive façade remained.

He flexed and strained his arms, surrendering his body to the gentle illustration. Tension was around his eyes, but she made sure not to overstep any lines that made him uncomfortable; he was opening the inner parts of himself to her, and she knew more than anything to scare him away. Midway across his stomach he murmured, "And up the other side." He released her hand.

Anastasia mirrored the line she drew on his left side. The actions and intimacy he was entrusting in her while generously giving was intense and heady, but the pain she counted in his eyes tempered her. Seven small, round white scars dotted his chest—a deep, dark purgatory of hideously evil desecration on his beautiful body.

Who would do this to a child?

"There." she whispered, trying to reel in her emotions. "Done." I don't know if I can do this any longer. This is too painful. Her being able to touch him through the lipstick was one of the most intimate and vulnerable moments she'd ever experience beside her first night with him. It was a first, and she cherished it just as much as her heart swelled with emotions.

"No, you're not," he corrected and replied, tracing a line with his long index finger around the base of his neck. She took a deep breath and followed the line of his finger with a scarlet streak, finishing and gazing into the gray depths of his shaken eyes.

"Now my back," he murmured, shifting under her so she could climb off him. He turned around on the bed and sat cross-legged, turning and revealing his bare back to her.

"Follow the line from my chest, all the way round to the other side." His voice was low and husky.

Forgetting that he couldn't see her, she still nodded her head in response, doing as he instructed until a crimson line ran across the middle of his back. She watched his back hunch over as she continued drawing her lines; the extension of his back drew her attention and gaze to more scars as she discovered them, counting more scars marring his beautiful body. There were nine in total.

"Around your neck, too?" She asked in a whispered, plaintive voice.

He nodded, and she drew another line, joining the first one around the base of his neck beneath his hair.

"Finished," she murmured, and it looked like he was wearing a bizarre skin-colored vest with a harlot-red trim.

Christian's shoulders slumped as he relaxed, turning slowly to face her once again. She waited patiently, hands at her lap as she gazed at him while on her knees—compassionate and warm, just like her golden-brown eyes. "Those are my boundaries," he said quietly, eyes dark and pupils dilated with an intense emotion she couldn't comprehend from his stare. It was intense, and she restrained herself from wrapping herself immediately around him.

Gazing at him in wonder, she nodded, "I can live with those." Eyes brightly shining before him, she smiled secretly, "Right now, I want to launch myself at you."

He gave a wicked smile and held out his hands, a gesture of supplication. "Well, Miss Steele, I'm all yours."

Anastasia giggled and squealed with delight, catapulting herself into his inviting arms as she knocked him flat. His boyish laughed followed with her, filling with relief as he twisted her body around and pushed her to the bed with him on top. She gripped at the sides of his biceps, feeling the muscular skin against her fingers as she stared up into darkening eyes.

"Now, about that rain check," Christian breathed, his mouth claiming and reminding her to be his once more.

Her hands fisted into his hair, fingers grabbing into his unruly locks as his mouth was feverish against hers. She consumed him, relishing the feel of his tongue against hers as he reflected the same actions, devouring her. As their tongues continued entwining, the reckless, wild abandonment to their kissing increased with intensity. The adrenaline and eagerness in their bodies fueled their passions, as they matched each other's kissing.

Suddenly, he dragged her up and grasped her by the hem of her tight shirt, whipping it over her head and throwing it on the floor. "I want to feel you," he said greedily against her mouth as his hands smoothed against her skin from behind, hands running along her back as he undid her bra. In one smooth movement, it was off and he casted it aside.

Christian pushed her back down on the bed, pressing her into the mattress as his mouth and hands move to her breasts. With arms raised above her head from the fall, she found his hair into her fingers, curling them into his hair as he took one of her nipples between his lips and tugged hard; he teased the other nipple with a finger.

She cried out as the sensations of his mouth swept through her body, spiking and tightening all the muscles inside her body and in her groin. I want you inside…now…

"Yes, baby, let me hear you," he murmured against her overheated skin, making it even hotter from his breath and body.

With his mouth, he continued toying with her nipple; pulling at it and making her squirm and writhe underneath him. She yearned for him as he worshiped her body the best way he knew how. He continued teasing her with his fingers switching between each breasts as he pleasured each of them, letting her nipples from hard and elongate from his touch. His hand moved to his jeans, and he deftly undid the button, tugging the zipper down before slipping his hand inside her panties.

He slid his fingers against her sex and rubbed at her slit. His breath hissed out as his fingers glided into her, making her push her pelvis up into the heel of his palm. He responded, rubbing it against her clitoris and making her mewl with ecstasy. "Oh, baby," he breathed as he hovered over her, staring intently into her eyes. With a wild expression and a voice of wonder, he exclaimed quietly, "You're so wet."

She panted and whimpered, "I want you."

His lips joined with hers again, and she could feel his hungry appetite feeding off the taste of her mouth. He was greedy, and his passionate gestures showed through his hot, deep kisses. His intense gestures of desperation were new—it was never that way for Anastasia except the one time she came back from her to California.

Christian's words from earlier drifted into the brunette's mind. "…I need to know we're okay. This is the only way I know how." The thought of his need unraveled inside of her. It gave her pure pleasure knowing that she could give him what he wanted, being what he needed—a source of comfort and solace to ease him in any way she could. Continuing to fill her mouth with breathy kisses, his fingers hooked around the hem of her jeans and tugged them off, followed by her panties.

Keeping his eyes fixed deeply into hers, he stood and took a foil packet out of his pocket, tossing it at her before removing his jeans and boxers in an eager, swift motion.

She ripped the packet open eagerly, anticipation spiking higher and higher. He lay down beside her again, and she rolled the condom onto him. He grabbed both her hands and rolled onto his back.

"You. On top," he ordered between harsh breaths, pulling her astride. "I want to see you."

With pleasure.

He guided her, and hesitantly, she eased her body down onto him. He closed his eyes and flexed his hips to meet her, filling and stretching her in the process against the girth and length of his shaft. His mouth formed in a perfect O as he exhaled, and she found herself mirroring and grunting quietly to the filling sensations.

Yes… Anastasia gasped shakily as her body possessed him—as he possessed her.

Holding onto her hands, his fingers tightened around her, not wanting her to let go. She steadied herself, straddling him they held on tightly. Exhaling a long and low groan, he murmured afterwards, "You feel so good."

There was an incredible power in the position she was in; holding onto their pleasure by the movement of their bodies was exhilarating for her. Her bodiy rose and fell on his lap, and he marveled at her, watching her breasts bounce while she watched the man she loved slowly break apart from beneath her. He released the hold of her hands and grabbed her hips. She steadied and held onto his muscular arms, suddenly feeling his thrusts push deeply and sharply into her, causing her to cry out.

"That's right, baby," he said with a stained voice. "Feel me."

She moaned louder, letting her take in what he filled as her head bent back. He does this so well.

Anastasia began to move—countering his rhythm in perfect symmetry—numbing all thought and reason she had within herself. She was lost relishing the sensations, lost in a void of pleasure as he reveled every precious inch inside of her. They were panting and moaning together. Up… Down … Up… Down… again and again. He watched with intent, marveling her body and her expressions as they swam with pleasure.

Opening her eyes, she stared down at him. With her breathing ragged, he was staring back into her, eyes scorched and blazing.

"My Ana," he mouthed openly.

"Yes," she rasped. "Always."

He groaned loudly to the quiet cry of her precious word, dipping his head and rolling his eyes back. Oh yes… Watching Christian unravel was enough for Anastasia to fall at the seams. She came audibly and exhaustingly, letting the room spin around as her body succumbed and spiraled to the depths of euphoria. She collapsed on top of his chest, quivering from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

"Oh, baby," Christian grunted and groaned, finding his release and holding her still as he let go.

Her head was caught in the borders of his chest—the no-go areas they just marked—cheek nestled against his torso, but he remained still. She was painting, glowing, and resisting the urge to press her lips into him for a kiss. She simply lay on top of him, catching her breath. He smoothed his hair, caressing her locks while his hand ran down her back, stroking her as his out-of-breath panting calmed down.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured.

Anastasia lifted her head, gazing at him with a questioning expression while gold eyes filled with skepticism. She scoffed and smiled, lying back down on his chest. He frowned in response, sitting up quickly and taking her by surprise as his arm swept round to hold her in place. Nose to nose, she reactively held onto his biceps, stunned.

"You. Are. Beautiful," he said again with an emphatic tone, articulating each word clearly.

"And you're amazingly sweet sometimes." The brunette leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on his lips.

Christian lifted her and eased out of her. She winced and shivered as the filling escaped her, before feeling him lean forward and kiss her softly. He breathed, "You have no idea how attractive you are, do you?"

She flushed, nonplussed and slightly unamused. Why are we talking about this?

"All those boys pursuing you—that isn't enough of a clue?"

"Boys?" She giggled. "What boys? When? Where?"

"You want the list?" He frowned, "There's the plastic surgeon." Ahem, Jackson, you mean? "He's crazy about you. There's also your residents and interns. I have a thing to fire them if they make any move on you. And then, there are your patients, trying to take you to the bar, get you drunk, and take what's mine." Each person off his list increased with bitterness.

"Christian, that's just not true," she shook her head. "And it's in no comparison to your list!"

"We aren't talking about me, and frankly, I couldn't give a fuck about any of them." He pulled her in closer," Trust me. They want you. They want what's mine." She rested her forearms onto his shoulders, hands in his hair as she studied his expression with her amusement.

"Mine," he asserted in repetition, eyes glowing possessively.

Easy, tiger. "Yes, yours," she reassured, smiling indulgently. Watching him settle down and mollify, she found herself perfectly content and satisfied being comfortably naked in his lap while on a bed and in the full light of a Saturday afternoon. She felt lucky, more than she thought she deserved.

Noticing the lipstick markings remained on his exquisite body, she discovered some smears on the duvet covers, wondering what Mrs. Jones would think of them when finding them. "The lines are still intact," Anastasia murmured and marveled, bravely tracing the mark on his shoulder with her index finger. What a strong lipstick.

Alarmed, he stiffened and blinked suddenly.

"I want to go exploring."

He regarded her skeptically, "The apartment?"

"No," the brunette answered slowly. "I was thinking of the treasure map that we've drawn on you."

His eyebrows lifted in surprise, and he continued blinking with uncertainty. Reassuringly, she leaned in closer, rubbing her nose against his.

"And what would that entail exactly, Miss Steele? He asked distractedly.

Anastasia lifted her hand from his shoulder, running her fingertips down his face. "Simply touching you everywhere that I'm allowed," she replied softly.

Christian captured her index finger in his teeth, biting down gently.

She hummed a smile before scrunching her nose. "Ouch…" She protested and he grinned, a low growl coming from his throat.

"Okay," he acquiesced, releasing her finger, but his voice was laced with apprehension. "Wait." He leaned behind her, lifting her again, and removed his condom, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor beside the bed.

"I hate those things. I've a good mind to call Dr. Montgomery around to give you a shot," he muttered.

"Who is she?" She asked confusingly.

"She's the top OB-GYN in Seattle, also double-board certified in neonatal surgery," he answered. "She also worked as the head department of OB-GYN at Grey-Sloan for a while I believe, before having her own private practice."

She lifted a brow, unamused, "You think a woman like her is going to come running to you?"

"I can be very persuasive," Christian murmured, hooking her hair behind her ear. "Franco's done a great job of your hair. I like these layers."

What are we talking about now? "Stop changing the subject," Anastasia warned. She finally realized the full outcome of how easily distracted she could be.

He shifted her back so she was straddling him again, leaning on his propped-up knees with her feet on either side of his hips. He leaned back on his arms. "Touch away," he said without humor. He was nervous, but he tried hiding it under a casual mask.

Locking eyes with his, Anastasia reached down and traced her finger underneath the lipstick line, across his finely chiseled abdominal muscles as he tensed. Stroking the valley between his hardened concaving abdominals, he flinched and she stopped, lifting her finger.

She shook her head to emphasize her statement, "I don't have to—"

"No, it's fine." He tried placating her reassuringly. "It just takes some… readjustment on my part. No one's touched me for a long time," he murmured in explanation.

"Mrs. Robinson?" The words popped out unbidden out of her mouth. To her own amazement, she managed to keep all the bitterness and rancor out of her voice, as well as not wanting to vomit. In the brunette's opinion, Elena Lincoln was the annoying pimple people couldn't get rid of, ugly on the outside as she was on the inside.

He nodded, his discomfort showing through his façade. "I don't want to talk about her. It will sour your good mood."

"No, I can handle it," Anastasia protested.

"No, you can't Ana. You see red whenever I mention her. My past is my past. It's a fact, and I can't change it. I'm lucky that you don't have one like mine because it would drive me crazy if you did."

Frowning at him, she knew better than to continue persisting. She didn't want to fight. "Drive you crazy? More than you are already?" She smiled gently, hoping to lighten up the atmosphere between them again.

His lips twitched. "Crazy for you," Christian declared in declaration.

As her heart swelled with joy, she teased, "Need me to call Dr. Flynn for you?"

"I don't think that will be necessary," he said dryly.

Wriggling against his legs so he'd drop his legs, Anastasia placed her fingers back on his stomach, letting them drift across his skin. He tensed, but she continued stroking him before whispering, "I like touching you." Her fingers skated down to his navel then southward, moving lower and lower.

His lips parted as his breathing changes, eyes darkening as his erection stirred and twitched beneath her.

Round two. Her hair fell to one side as she combed through her fingers, letting it fall over her shoulders. "Again?" She murmured with a carnal smile.

Christian smiled, "Oh yes, Miss Steele. Again." He sat up and clasped her head in his hands, kissing her deeply, long, and hard. "You're not too sore?" He whispered his question breathily against her lips.

She hummed and breathed back onto his lips, "I can never get my fill of you either, Christian."

"I love your stamina, Ana," he smiled as his expression darkened even more, ready to take her again.

Discovering his girl curled up in bed, Christian carefully walked back into the submissive's bedroom and kissed the temple of her head, "Hey, sleepyhead."

"Mmm," she grumbled in her sleep, eyelids flickering open as she fell out of her dreams.

He kissed her quickly on the lips and whispered, "Time to get up."

"Mr. Grey," she said his name contently, running her fingers against his stubble. "I've missed you."

"You've been asleep." He knitted his brows and made a face, repressing his smile.

"You weren't with me. I missed you in my dreams." Warm eyes softened at him as he gazed down.

He grinned as the unexpected warmth spread through his body—a feeling that was becoming familiar, but it was too new and frightening for him to label.

"Up," he ordered, leaving her to get ready.

Anastasia began cleaning up in the shower just as he instructed for her to do, smiling happily as the warm water comforted her. She stood beneath the shower, absentmindedly washing herself while careful not to wet her tied-back curls as she contemplated and reflected the last couple of hours with her man. It was one of the best afternoons she'd ever had with him, so raw and so intimate.

The information Christian revealed that day was a staggering amount, and she was trying to assimilate all the knowledge that was shed. For starters, she knew that he was rich but wasn't fully aware until the numbers were revealed. He was incredibly wealthy, more than what the surgeon initially thought; and he was young, too. In her mind, he was an exceptionally extraordinary man, making her wonder why he was so keen on self-deprecating himself constantly. She could always see it from the look in his eyes.

Remembering the file he grabbed from his study, Anastasia wondered if there were other files of submissives. Maybe I could… No. Don't go there. She frowned, tempted in wanting to snoop two particular files—one of Leila and another of Elena Lincoln, wondering if the ladder had a file. While showering, she refused to let the thought of the older cougar wrap around her head, symbolically rinsing away her thoughts as she massaged warm water on her face. Taking Christian's word for it, she decided not to think about her, knowing that he had a point.

Stepping out of the shower and drying her body, she furrowed her brows as she paused in place. If I come off strongly because of the way I feel about her and what she did, it's because I feel strongly. What sane and successful person would do that to a fifteen-year-old boy? To take advantage of him that way? How much has she contributed to all that he was? The surgeon couldn't understand the meaning of their relationship, and what hurt her even more was the knowledge that he claimed she helped him. How did she help him? I know she did the complete opposite.

The image of his scars entered her mind, the stark physical embodiment of a horrific childhood and a sickening reminder of what mental scars he must bear. She couldn't believe the wounds inflicted on the sweet man who said loving things to her that day. Staring at her reflection, Anastasia smiled at the memory of his words, heart brimming and overflowing with compassion and love for him, watching her face morph into a ridiculous smile. We'll be okay. We can do this.

She headed back into the bedroom to get dressed, walking to the closet and opening a drawer full of new lingerie and underwear. She selected a black bustier corset, with a mind-numbing and body-fainting price tag of five-hundred forty dollars. It had a silver trim like filigree and panties to match. She pulled out a lacy, nude pair of thigh-high stockings, doing her best to ignore the price tag. Ooo, these feel nice.

Reaching for the silver dress, Christian stood by the doorway, entering unannounced as she caught him staring. He stood immobilized in his stance, staring hungrily with gray eyes glimmering with fascination. She blinked and flushed crimson, feeling herself itch from all the attention. He stood at the threshold of the doorway wearing a white shirt and black suit pants, the neck of his shirt open. She could see the lipstick line still in place while he continued staring, entranced.

Anastasia cleared her throat, "Can I help you, Mr. Grey? I assume there is some purpose to your visit other than to gawk mindlessly at me."

"I am rather enjoying my mindless gawk, thank you, Miss Steele," he murmured darkly, stepping further into the room as he drank the sights of her into his mind. "Remind me to send a personal note of thanks to your personal shopper. Caroline Acton certainly knows what she's doing."

She nodded and smiled sheepishly, "You came to the right girl when it comes to needing to remember something, then."

"I'm sorry, Anastasia. I'm quite distracted."

"I can see that," she chuckled nervously. "So, what do you want Christian?" She narrowed his eyes at him. No funny business right now. I just cleaned up and we have your parents' party to get to.

Retaliating with a crooked smile, he pulled out the silver Kegel balls from his pocket, making the brunette pause in her tracks.

"It's not what you think," Christian said quickly.

"Please, enlighten me, then," she whispered.

"I thought you could wear these tonight."

"To the event?" She was shocked, blinking several times moving her eyes from the silver balls to him back and forth.

He nodded slowly, his eyes continuing to darken.

"Will you spank me later?" Her eyes glimmered with amusement as she waited for his reaction.

"No."

For a moment, Anastasia felt a tiny fleeting stab of disappointment, face falling to the reply.

He chuckled, "You want me to?"

She swallowed at the question. I don't know. I'm not even sure.

Watching her indecisiveness come upon her face, he said, "Well, rest assured I am not going to touch you like that, not even if you beg me."

That sounds like a challenge… She was competitive, and she wanted to win, rethinking her decision and wanting his playful side to unleash secretly. She knew she could handle it, merely suffering from moments of rethinking.

"Do you want to play this game?" He pressed and continued, holding up the balls. "You can always take them out if it's too much."

She gazed at him, watching him look wickedly tempting—unkempt, recently messed with hair, dark eyes dancing with his own erotic thoughts, and the same beautifully sculptured mouth that rose into a sexy, amused smile.

Unafraid, her golden-brown eyes darkened with his, a wicked smile reflecting back against teasing lips. "Okay," she acquiesced.

"Good girl," Christian grinned. "Come here, and I'll put them in once you've put your shoes on."

My shoes? Where are my—Oh! By the door was a pair ostentaciously sparkling Christian Louboutins embezzled with Swarovski crystal all over the heels. It went well with the outrageously silvery, satin dress that illuminated in the light. By the end of her night, she imagined feeling and looking like a walking diamond. It was outrageously out of Anastasia's style and comfort zone, but she didn't mind playing dress up for one night, and the attention Christian was giving was an added bonus. Those shoes look like they're ready to kill my feet though…

Blowing through her lips gently, Christian held out his hand to support her while she stepped into the red-bottomed shoes, a steal at around five-thousand dollars. Propping herself into the heels, she quietly gasped as she wore them. Holy shit. I feel like the queen of the world in these.

He led her to the bedside and didn't sit but walked over to the only chair in the room. Picking it up, he carried it over and placed it in front of her. "When I nod," he began, "you will bend down and hold on to the chair. Understand?" His voice was hoarse and husky, clouded with his perverted fantasies.

"Yes."

"Good. Now open your mouth," he ordered, his voice still low.

Doing as she was told, she was expecting the silver ball to enter her mouth but instead was Christian's finger. Her eyes fluttered for a second as she stared.

"Suck," he said. She reached up and clasped his hand gently, holding him steady, and wrapped her lips around his digit. He tastes of soap… hmm. She sucked eagerly and hard, and she was rewarded when his eyes widened and his lips parted as he inhaled. By his facial expressions, she wouldn't need any lubrication at that point. He placed the balls in his mouth as she fellated his finger, twirling her tongue around it. When he tried to pull and withdraw, she clamped her teeth down gently.

Christian grinned and shook his head, admonishing her, so she let go. He nodded, giving her the cue to bend over and grasp onto the sides of the chair. He moved her panties to one side and very slowly slid a finger inside her, circling leisurely. She felt him at every side, being unable to resist the moans that escaped her mouth. He pulled his finger briefly and with tender care, inserting the balls inside one at a time, pushing them deeply. Once they were in position, he smoothed her panties back into place and kissed her back side. Running his hands up each of her legs from ankle to thigh, he gently kissed each thigh where her hold-ups finished.

"You have such fine, fine legs, Miss Steele," he murmured hotly. He stood up and, grabbed by the hips, pulling her behind against him so she could feel his erection. "Maybe I'll have you this way when we get home, Anastasia. You can stand now."

She gasped quietly from the feel of his bulge but stood up, her behind brushing against his erection. She felt herself tower over the chair and everything around her as she became upright, powerful and tall in her irrationally high heels. They didn't hurt her as bad as she thought.

Leaning down from behind her, Christian rubbed his nose from the length of her neck to her shoulder before kissing her blade. "I bought these for you to wear on the Saturday night of the gala you and I were supposed attend together." He placed his arm around her and held out his hand. In his palm rested a small red box with Cartier inscribed on the lid. He spoke softly explaining further, "But you left me, so I never had the opportunity to give them to you."

"This is my second chance," he murmured, his voice stiff with some unnamed emotion. He was nervous.

His gray eyes were beseeching, warm, and soft from behind. Another gift? Tentatively, she reached for the box and opened it. Inside shined a pair of drop earrings—each having four diamonds, one at the base, a gap in between, and then three perfectly spaced diamonds hanging one after the other. They were beautiful, simple, and a classic item to wear. It'd be a perfect item she'd pick if she had been given the opportunity to shop at Cartier.

"Christian…" She opened her mouth, looking back up into his eyes and watching him hold his breath. They were symbolic. A second chance… She would be happily proud to wear them. "They're beautiful," she said quietly. "I love them. Thank you."

He grinned against her skin, relaxing as the tension left his body, kissing her shoulder again. "You're wearing the silver, satin dress?" He asked.

"Yes, is that okay?"

"Of course. I'll let you get ready." He headed out the door without a backward glance.

Anastasia looked at herself in the mirror, holding the earrings up to her ear before placing them on. Her heart fluttered and she smiled excitedly at her reflection. I love them.

And I love you, Christian.

Just before she was about to dress herself, a noise from her bag alarmed the room.

Oh, no…

Anastasia jumped and hurried to the vanity table with her clicking heels, rummaging through her purse to find the source of the noise. Oh, please, please, please… Don't let it be emergent… She picked up her vibrating and beeping pager, combing a hand through her hair and reading: 911. Jack Hyde.

Dread and anxiety filled her senses as she closed her eyes, clutching onto the device with a shaking hand as she exhaled sharply through her nose.

FUCK.

Christian had lost count of the number of fancy events he had attended, but for the first time in his life, he was excited, eager, and enthused to go out. He got to show Anastasia off to his family and all of their well-heeled friends, letting everybody know that they were together—that she was his, and he was her. Only you and me, his words repeated in his head.

He finished tying the bow tie with ease and grabbed his jacket. Slipping it on, he took one last look in the mirror. This asshole looks happy, he thought, but taking a quick glance at himself fully in the mirror, he straightened his tie. Better.

Done getting dressed, he left his bedroom and went over to his security team, rehashing his night's arrangements with his bodyguards. All four men were suddenly distracted as they heard footsteps hurriedly running down the stairs. When the CEO turned around, his excited smile vanished from his face. Anastasia was dressed in a sweater and jeans, carrying her purse with a nervous look on her face. She wasn't dressed in anything he had gotten her. She wasn't ready for the party. From the looks of it, she wasn't planning to go at all.

She's running away?! Gray eyes widened as he hurried over to her with concern and panic, "Ana, where are you going? Why aren't you dressed yet?"

She shook and frowned, shoulders sagging with her head shaking. "I'm sorry, Christian. It's my patient. There's something wrong, and I need to get to the hospital immediately."

He opened his mouth, slight relief filling his senses as tension released from his body. His blinked rapidly, trying to process the information, "But—the party."

Her lips trembled as she watched the reaction on his face shift. She bit her lip in thought and reassuringly said, "Go to the charity without me and—"

"No!" Christian exclaimed petulantly. "We were supposed to go together, Ana. There's no point in going without you. I don't want to go to this stupid function if you're not going to be there."

"Hey, hey, hey," Anastasia shook her head and smiled weakly. "It's okay. I'm going to your parents' party. I wouldn't dream of missing it and neither should you? Also, you didn't let me finish." Taking a chance to breathe, she continued flipping her hair back, "You go to the party first, and I'll meet you there. I have to check on a patient. It seems emergent. He won't need a surgery—at least I'm crossing my fingers he wouldn't—because I did some scans not so long ago on him and his heart was fine."

"Have Taylor drop me off at the hospital first, and then he could drop you off at the party. By the time Taylor comes to pick me up again from the hospital, I'll be ready to go to come see you. I shouldn't be gone for longer than hour. You wouldn't even know that I was gone," she smiled softly.

I don't like it.

"Can't someone else in your department handle it? Delegate it to somebody else." He really didn't want to go without his date—without his girl. Even though she came up with a plan that might've solved their night, he didn't want to be away from her. He always wanted her by to be by his side.

She sighed, a smile slowly shifting into a frown. "They wouldn't need to be paging me unless they needed me, Christian." Gold eyes willed him to understand her predicament and situation.

He blinked and frowned at the unfortunate events of their night. Her patients need her. The other surgeons probably can't do it, but she could. Remembering Anastasia's file from hospital records, he saw that the mortality rate of her patients were significantly lower than any other surgeon's in the hospital. There was a reason why his Anastasia Steele was a gifted genius of a surgeon; he just wished that he could have her all to herself.

Impatient in her wake, Anastasia looked at him anxiously with a frown, "Christian, I don't have time."

Let her go, Grey. She said she'd come meet you later. "I'm dropping you off with two bodyguards at the hospital. They are your close protection of the night and they are to follow you around to protect you, no questions asked," he ordered with a hand running through his hair. "You said you'd be ready by the time Taylor came back, so he'll wait by the front of the hospital as he usually does to pick you up. You will not go anywhere alone without the men ordered to protect you. Do you understand, Anastasia?"

She nodded her head immediately, "Yes." He was unsure if she meant what she said or she wanted to eagerly get to the hospital.

"I mean it, Ana," Christian pressed on. "Nowhere alone. You got that?"

"Yes, Christian. I promise." Sincerity met with her eyes as she pleaded with him, a look of contrition in her eyes. "Let me go get my things quickly and we can leave now."

"Alright. We don't have to hurry considering we're both going to be late anyhow," he said with a low voice.

As much as Christian knew about Anastasia's skills, he still wasn't too keen or happy on letting her go. I'm going to need to do something about her schedule. Hand someone off the surgeries so she doesn't have to do them. She's going to be mad at me, but she should have the weekend to herself. The girl works hard enough as it is already.

With the dress bag encasing her silver dress draped over her arm, along with her white coat, and her purse, Anastasia ran down the stairs, ushering everyone out the door with her. The ride down the elevator was as quiet as the start of the car ride. With her by his side, all he wanted to do was hold her until she had to leave—memorizing the feel of her skin in his head and the way she smelled. It was a ritual for him to do every time she had to go without him ever since she left him that month ago.

He skimmed his thumb across her knuckles as the car drove to the hospital, sensing her growing anticipation. She crossed and uncrossed her legs occasionally; he didn't know if the discomfort was because of the Kegel balls or the distress of handling a patient.

"Where did you get the lipstick?" She asked gently out of the blue.

He mouthed his bodyguard's name and she laughed before abruptly stopping afterwards, placing her hand at her stomach gently.

Oh, it's the Kegel balls.

"Relax," Christian whispered. "If it's too much…" He kissed each of her knuckles and sucked the tip of her finger, rolling her tongue around it as she did with his finger from earlier. He watched her close her eyes and embrace the sensation, surrendering briefly to all the pleasure he was teasing her with. Her warm, smoldering eyes met with his when she opened them, smiling wickedly at him which he mirrored back at her.

"When I get to the party," she began, "what is there to expect?"

"Oh, the usual stuff," he replied breezily and dismissively.

"Not usual for me," she reminded him.

Of course. When would she have been to an event like this? He smiled fondly, kissing her knuckles once more as he explained the world of the fancy upper class. "Lots of people flashing their cash. Auction, raffle, dinner, dancing—my mother knows how to throw a party."

Taylor pulled up to the curb stop of the hospital, letting Anastasia open the door for herself in a rushed hurry. Christian immediately grabbed at her hand and pulled her back down on the seat, kissing her longingly and deeply, savoring the taste.

She reciprocated the kiss, holding onto his face before pulling away. "I have to go," she breathed gently against his lip, a saddened longing in her voice. "My patient need me."

"I need you," he murmured, rubbing his nose against her. "I wish you didn't have to. Please, don't be long."

She smiled warmly, shedding one last kiss, "I'll miss you, too, Mr. Grey."

"One more thing," Christian said, he handed her a velvet pouch. She pulled out an intricate silver masquerade mask with cobalt blue feathers in a plume crowning the top. "It's a masked ball," he explained matter-of-factly.

"I see," she marveled at the mask. She looked back up expectantly, "Are you wearing one?"

"Of course. They're very liberating in a way," he added and smirked, raising an eyebrow as he lifted the mask to show her.

Anastasia held it close to her chest. Her smile never fazed and that made him never want to see her leave. "I'll see you soon, Christian. Wait for me," she urged softly before turning her back and leaving with the two bodyguards that exited the car with her.

Don't be gone for too long, Anastasia. I need you.

Parking and stopping at the front of Grace and Carrick's mansion, the mogul dreaded arriving without his girl. As his personal bodyguard came to the door, he opened it and let Christian into the fancy world of a party.

"Mr. Grey!" A photographer called out to him as he stepped out of the vehicle. He ignored the two photographers taking candid photos of him as he strode past all the people, wanting to get to his seat as he watched Taylor drive back to the hospital.

He entered the house and came to the backyard, impressed by the festive environment. Damn, my parents went all-out. There was a pavilion, pergolas, lanterns, a checkered dance floor, ice swans, and a string quartet with a musical guest his mother scored luckily for charity. He knew his mother was working hard to make the Coping Together charity event as successful as she could. It was gratifying for him to see his parents' generosity, but it would have been more so if Anastasia was at his side. It's not often for him that he got the opportunity to stand back and appreciate how lucky he was to be a part of their world, and it was all due to his favorite girl bringing color into his black and white world.

He just wished his favorite surgeon was with him, dwelling on the fact that she wasn't. He sulked to the thought, trying to brush it away.

"Christian!" He heard the shrill tones of his sister's shriek. She threw her arms immediately around his neck in a melodramatic display of affection. She was a vision in pink, dressed in frills that matched with her bright personality.

"Mia." He returned her enthusiastic hug.

"I'm so happy you're here!" His sister pulled away from him, holding his hand and dragging the son to his mother.

"Mother," he greeted formally, kissing her on both cheeks.

"Oh, Christian, so formal!" She scolded him teasingly before looking at him questioningly. "Where's Ana?"

All heads at the table turned toward Christian, expectantly waiting for an answer. He cleared his throat and nodded, "She had some earlier engagements to attend to at work. She'll be here soon."

"Well, at least we get to see her soon! I've missed seeing her!" Mia cheered, before running of to her group of girlfriends.

"So, Ana is at work then?" His mother asked, taking a sip from her champagne glass.

"She is."

"I thought she was at The Mayo Clinic in Minnesota? That's what a friend of mine told me from Grey-Sloan."

"Mom, it's a long story."

"I figured as much," she replied with a slight edge to her voice.

Well, something is off. "What is it, Grace? Spit it out."

She tentatively reached out to her son and touched her arm, "You look happier than the last time I saw you. I didn't think you were going to come tonight. I was surprised you came, but even more when you told me you were bringing her."

"I did come. And I am happy," he said, eyeing her speculatively.

"Ana—I think she's good for you."

"I think so, too." Where are you going with this?

"I hope she doesn't hurt you."

What the fuck? "Why would you say that?" Christian asked in an accusatorily defensive tone.

Grace stopped looking anxiously at her some, "Christian, I—" She was prevaricating, unsure of what to say. She disliked confrontation and never liked giving bad news.

His anxiety rose, "Grace. Tell me."

"I spoke with Elena some time ago. She told me that you and Ana had split up a month ago and that you were heartbroken. It would explain your mood swings and your behavior these past few weeks."

What?

"Why didn't you tell me?" She persisted and continued. "I know you run a business together, but I was upset hearing it from her."

"Elena was exaggerating; I wasn't heartbroken. We had a falling-out. That's all. I didn't tell you because it was temporary. It felt long, but she came back from her fellowship, and everything is fine now." He was frustrated, angered by the fact that Elena shared news to his mother and more so being reminded of having to agonizing endure his time being without Anastasia. It was ironic because even as he defended his girl—saying that she was with him again—she still wasn't with him in person during that moment.

"I hate to think of you being hurt, darling. I hope she's with you for the right reasons," Grace frowned.

"Who? Ana?" Anger rose within his system. "What are you implying, Mother?"

"She's young and incredibly bright for her age. And you're a wealthy man, Christian."

This is fucking insane. "You think she's a gold-digger?" It was as if his mom had struck him across the face.

She widened her eyes and shook her head, "No, that's not what I said—"

"Mom. She's not like that at all." He was trying not to lose his temper, reining in all the anger that was escaping out of him and trying not to make a scene.

"I hope so, darling. I'm just watching out for you. Be careful. Most young people experience heart break during their adolescence." Grace gave him a knowing look.

Oh, please. My heart was broken way, way before I hit puberty. He rolled his eyes.

"Darling, you know your father and I only want you happy, and these past few weeks, I haven't heard anything from you until Elena. When I did see you one day, you looked distraught and heavy. But suddenly tonight, you're better now. I'm only looking out for you because I care."

"Yeah." I've had enough of this. This is nobody's concern but mine and Ana's. "Mother, I appreciate the concern, but it's all good."

Frowning from his coldness and his reaction, Grace called back out to her soon. "Christian—"

"You have someone behind waiting for you," Christian pointed with his chin, making her turn around. Thank god. Frankly, she could fuck off. How dare she think that of Ana? And why the hell is Elena gossiping about me and Ana to? Dragging her into my business?

"I just want to thank you again for having me here, Grace" the man greeted Grace respectfully with a wide grin.

"Oh, please. We are honored to have you here. I still can't believe that you decided to join us and perform tonight." Grace's eyes sparkled with delight.

"It's for a good cause. And I'm all for helping people and giving them a second chance," the musician grinned. He gestured to the back with his thumb, "So, the band is set up and ready to go, I was just wondering when you wanted me to go. Your event planner told me that it wasn't going to start yet and told me to just get on stage to start entertaining the guests. I just wanted to get your permission from you first before going."

"Oh, that would be perfect, Mr. Hadley, but could you give me one moment? I want to introduce you to my son." His mother turned around and smiled, hoping to make the situation lighter as she beckoned her son to come over with a waving hand.

Mr. Hadley? Wait a second, why is that name so familiar.

Grace smiled fondly, holding her son's wrist, "Mr. Hadley, this is my son—Christian . Christian, this is the musician and singer going to perform for us tonight. He's very talented. I can't wait for everybody to hear."

"Oh, you're being too sweet to me, Grace," the singer chuckled, clutching onto his heart dramatically. His hair was black and curly, a wide smile and dressed sharply with Mia and her girlfriends noticeably ogling the musician behind on one side, while another group of women gathered and pointed on another. A few sets of eyes were on the looker of a man—he was all teeth, smiles and charm in his boyish manner, and Christian wasn't the only man that was being gawked at.

He brought out his hand to Christian and grinned, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Grey. I've heard so much about you coming in to Seattle. My name is Penn."

Gray eyes widened as he distractedly shook his hand. Shit. It's Ana's childhood friend.

Stuffing all her items into the attendings' lounge, Anastasia hurried past a group of people that greeted her, she nodded at them with a smile and headed towards The Pit—the emergency room. She didn't change into scrubs, otherwise she'd be stuck tending to other patients that other surgeons on-call would deal with. It was difficult to hurry however; the silver balls were pressing against her insides, making her pause and gasp occasionally. Just get in and get out.

The two bodyguards followed her everywhere, awkwardly and uncomfortably. She knew they were just following orders and doing what they were supposed to do as Christian instructed, but she felt out of place—even more so when people around the hospital stared at them running around the hospital as a pack.

"Frankie," the young surgeon panted, out of breath and slightly aroused at the thought of Christian with the silver balls inside. "You…paged? Where is he?"

"Shit, girl." The head nurse handed the patient's chart to the head of cardiothoracic surgery, a face stricken with guilt. "You okay?"

"No," she frowned petulantly. "I'm not on-call tonight and I have a date but was rudely interrupted by a page. Walk with me and tell me what happened?"

The nurse nodded her head dutifully, guiding her to the trauma room, "Of course. Mr. Jack Hyde came in an hour ago complaining about chest pains. He's refused help from all the cardiothoracic attendings and the chief of surgery, requesting you to be the only one to help him out."

"Is he okay?" Anastasia rushed with a concerned look. "Did anyone do an echo? CT? There's nothing in his chart. Where are his scans? All I'm seeing is that he's cleared to leave without following the protocol of getting his scans?"

"That's the thing!" Frankie frowned. "He didn't fill anything out but the discharge forms. He wanted to wait for you to get here to get everything done for him."

Why is this guy wasting everybody's time? Shaking her head in frustration, the young surgeon sighed, taking a deep breath. She didn't want to enter the room with an aggravated expression or an unhappy face. Looking through the window's reflection of another trauma room, she fixed her face and relaxed her face before heading in to begin the examination on her patient.

"Mr. Hyde," Anastasia greeted, placing the chart on a metal desk. She began readying her stereoscope.

"Doc, you're finally here," Jack grinned widely, beginning to unbutton his shirt. "I've been waiting for you."

The patient seems to be fine. "What seems to be the problem here?" She lifted her brow, as she scanned and examined him with her eyes. She was tired of all the waiting. The surgeon had somewhere to be.

"Ugh, Ana." He faked a frown and pouted dramatically. "My stomach hurts real badly and my heart kind of hurts, too. Fix me."

Goodness, you're wasting my time. "So, I've been told. I hear you've been giving my other attendings and nurses a hard time. I'm going to give your heart a listen, now." Wanting desperately to roll her eyes, she checked his heart. Answering her assumptions correctly, Mr. Jack Hyde was fine—his heart was still pumping blood well and beating normally. No signs of aortic ruptures, blocked airways, or any irregularities.

"No one is as good as you. And I wanted only the best of the best," he grinned more widely. His smiles were beginning to make her uncomfortably annoyed. "You know, I went to Princeton?" He changed the subject, which she ignored.

I don't care.

"I'm going to check your stomach for any tenderness to see what's wrong internally." If any. She pressed her hands into his stomach—it was neither tender nor rigid.

"I'm also the editor of the publishing company that I work at. So, I guess you could say I'm pretty good with my words," he added, trying to impress her.

"No kidding," she responded disinterestedly. "Follow the light," she instructed, pulling her light pen out and flashing the light into his eyes as she checked from his brain activity, thinking there was something wrong with his mind or consciousness.

"What company do you work at?" It was a question she didn't care about, just wanting to seem like she was listening to him.

"SIP," Jack grinned, enthused with his assumption of her wanting to get to know him. "Or Seattle Independent Publishing. I run the company as their editor-in-chief."

His brain activity was fine, enraging the young surgeon on the spot as she finished his entire examination. He was cleared for discharge, and yet she was here performing something an intern should've been doing. The patient doesn't need ANY unnecessary lab workups. Why is he doing this?

"Jack, you had the nurses page me 911, so I'm here and trying to figure out if you're okay." Anastasia placed her hands on her hips, furrowing her brows and trying to understand the situation, "I followed all the protocol, and it doesn't seem like you are suffering from anything detrimental or fatal. There is no need to run tests and scans all night when they aren't needed. Can you just tell me what the problem is? What did today that made you want to come in?"

He sat up straight, "Well, I went for a run this morning and my heart was beating very quickly for some strange reason."

You're kidding. "That's what happens when you exercise, Mr. Hyde. But I'm quite positive that you know that." She shook her head, unamused by his joke, "What else?"

"Hmm…" The patient tested the surgeon's patience as he dramatically put his fingers in a checkmark under his chin, looking up at the ceiling.

For the love of God, whoever is above, please end my suffering. Asking another question, she went on to quicken things up, "Did you do anything differently today that you don't normally do? Do you suspect you ate anything out of the ordinary?"

"I ate dairy today," he snapped his finger before pointing at the young surgeon.

"Okay." She said slowly. "Do you have any food allergies you suspect you might have?"

"I'm lactose intolerant."

"Give me something, Jack. Is there anything else you might suspect that gave you the conclusion that you should come into the ER, today?" Please, Jack. Give me something. I can't ditch Christian and come to the hospital treating you with nothing. You can't have possibly come to the hospital because of this. You have got to give me something.

He shrugged and smiled guiltily, trying to suede her with his charms. "Sorry, doc. That's all I got."

Anastasia placed both hands at both sides of her temples, pressing her fingers deeply into her head, and then balled her hand into a fist, pushing it against her lips. "So, let me just get something straight—to get something something clear."

She looked at the ceiling, clasping her hands together and quietly questioning divine providence in her head in regards to why she was going through her current predicament. "You came into the hospital thinking you had heart problems after going for a run." She cleared her throat and continued, "And then, knowing that you were lactose intolerant, you had dairy today. Those were the only two reasons why you came into the hospital today listing yourself to have heart and stomach troubles?"

Jack smiled cheekily, rubbing the back of his head with his hand, "You got me, Dr. Steele. I'm okay."

Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. Rubbing her lips together, she exhaled and nodded slowly, trying not to combust, "Yeah, I think we're done here then."

"But wait!" The blue-eyed man grabbed her by the arm, stopping her from leaving the room. "I'm sorry for wasting your time. I just saw you the other day in the bar, and I had to come and see you again. The only way I knew how was going into the hospital and grabbing your attention."

"And you thought the best way was to fake an illness? Do you understand how much trouble you've caused for everybody? Including myself?" She was trying to keep her temper from getting the best of her, reprimanding him as softly as she could, but her rising anger made her voice raise as well.

"I just wanted to try again and ask you out on a date," he replied with a dark smile, blue eyes piercing into hers like daggers.

Setting the record straight, Anastasia placed her stethoscope around her neck and answered instantly, "I've told you before, Jack. Although I am flattered with your proposal, I don't date my patients. I don't find it ethical, and I like keeping my work life and personal life separate." Wait…try again. Christian owns the hospital now. But now that I mentioned him… "I'm also in a serious relationship with someone."

"Who?" Jack asked immediately getting off from the bed and gazing down at her.

The surgeon blinked, "Uh…That's sort of an inappropriate question but…" She hesitated before continuing, "His name is Christian. Christian Grey."

"Christian Grey," the patient repeated before the recognition of the name made his eyes bulge with shock. "The Christian Grey?"

Why am I still talking to him? Time to go, Steele. She cleared her throat and nodded at him a farewell, "Good night, Mr. Hyde. Please, don't bother my nurses and attendings. And next time, try an antiacid." The brunette left him in a state of shock as he leaned against the bed, processing the information as his eyes got darker.

I think I'm going to have to send him off to a new physician. Unless he needs an extensive surgery, I shouldn't be spending more time with him that I should be. Briskly making an exit to the attendings' lounge with the bodyguards following closely behind, she excused herself from them, telling them she needed privacy to get dressed. They nodded silently at her, standing behind the bathroom door and guarding it as she slipped inside and began getting dressed.

Anastasia stepped into an alternate universe when looking back at her reflection in the mirror. The young surgeon couldn't recognize herself, but the woman in front looked worthy of a red carpet entrance. Her strapless, floor-length, silver satin gown was dazzling and simply stunning. I think I'll have to send a personal message to Caroline Acton myself, not Christian. The fit of the dress was perfect, flattering the curves she had as they hugged her body in complimentary.

Her hair was parted deeply to the side, letting the loose waves cascade over her shoulder. She pushed the small side of her hair to the back, showcasing an ear as she presented one of the beautiful Cartier earrings Christian got her, glistening against the fluorescent lighting in the bathroom. She kept her makeup to a minimum, a natural look. A small line of eyeliner on the top of her eyes, mascara, light blush, and a dusty-rose lipstick that matched the color of her plump lips; the remainder of her face was bare—fresh and dewy, free of any other makeup.

The last step to reach her final form of transforming into Cinderella for the night were the Christian Louboutins—the glittering, red-bottomed stilettos that made her higher than she'd like to be. To top everything all off, she collected her satin wrap, draping it over her body before placing her phone and some spare cash into a silver clutch.

Phew. Let's go, Steele. We've kept our man waiting long enough.

Exiting the bathroom, the two bodyguards nodded, grabbing her purse and items she brought with her to work before escorting her out of the lounge and heading towards the grand, front exit of the hospital. On the way out, she met with her favorite plastic surgeon, who stared open-mouthed and stunned.

"Ana… Wow. You look…" Jackson shook his head, rubbing his mouth with his open hand before grinning widely. "Wow."

Anastasia blushed, looking down at herself and then up at his marveling blue-green eyes. "Thanks, Jackson," she replied shyly. "I'm running a little late, but do I look okay?"

"Mr. Grey—He's—" He paused for a second, chuckling for a second as he gawked speechlessly. "You told him he was a lucky man, right?"

The young surgeon giggled, blushing more to the compliment. "I have to go. He's waiting for me." She waved good bye, heading out the front exit.

"Wait, Anastasia?" The plastic surgeon called out to her before she left the building. When she turned around, he was already walking up to her and making her wait in place. She stared at him expectantly and smiled fondly. He was still at a loss for words, and she watched him gesture around, unsure of what to do with his hands. "You should…uh… lose the scarf thing," he finally blurted, making a face to himself as let the words that came out process in his head.

Oh? How come? She looked down at her satin wrap.

"You look really beautiful," Jackson explained lowly in a shy voice. "And a dress like that on a beautiful girl should be worn with confidence. You shouldn't hide it." He was blushing and she was stunned to see.

The brunette smiled gently again, looking down as she felt color rise into her cheeks before removing the wrap off her body. "Thank you, Jackson," she said, leaning in and hugging him tightly. He wrapped his arms around her, comfortingly patting her back.

Hugging him over his broad shoulder, her smiled slowly faded away as she spotted a Jack Hyde still in the hospital, sitting in the waiting area. He stared from across the room with an ominously dark intensely, making her wonder how long he'd been doing that as she shifted in place to the nerve-wrecking gaze.

Okay. I need to switch him to another physician. This is getting uncomfortably ridiculous.

Pulling away from him, she nodded, "Have a good night, Jackson."

"You, too, Ana." He smiled warmly and waved, turning around and heading back to work.

Taylor was waiting outside for her just as Christian instructed. Everything was playing out perfectly like she had planned and he had wanted, despite the fact that she had to go to the hospital in the first place. She was still irritated that she had to go, but the gentle smile she had seen on Taylor's face melted all the events of her night away.

Legs were crossing and uncrossing as she sat in the seat of her car, remembering the balls still within her. She blew shakily through her lips, trying to relax and imagine Christian telling her to do so—imagining him kissing her knuckles as he did affectionately on many occasions. Anastasia smiled warmly at the thought of him; she was ready for her man.

The anticipation of her magical night was just beginning, and as the bodyguard drove her to the charity event, eagerness and anticipation grew more and more. With her attention and thoughts only on Christian, she closed her eyes and rested her hand against her stomach, smiling to the constant thought of him as she waited for her destination.


Oh, Jack. Separating and ruining lives day and night. I wonder what he's going to do next…

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It was very fun writing~

Leave me a review and let me know what you think! And don't worry, the party is just about to begin once she arrives.

Much love.~