Chapter 13 – Caution

ANA

"Ana? Ana? Are you okay?"

Oh God, I hope that's not someone blasting Smooth Criminal at this hour – I groan to myself. But then I realize that it's a gentle voice and not the dulcet tones of the late King of Pop that's causing my eyelids to flicker. Eventually, I realize that the room is pitch dark.

Where am I?
What time is it?

The moment I make a slight movement against the plush surface, an extreme bolt of pain immediately shoots up through the entire course of my body and brings all of last night's memories back to the surface. I moan.

I'm in my bedroom.

Not too long ago, I was at The Heathman with Mr. Grey – hogtied and being fucked within an inch of my life. I've never thought I would crave his intensity so much during the heat of the moment. I couldn't have imagined begging him to tie me up like an animal and abuse me.

Never could I have fathomed anyone performing anilingus and setting me on fire. I've always been a bit skittish about these things. I had the sexuality of a sixty-year-old hermit cat lady before I met this man. The only sex that I thought I'd ever experience once I finally got there was missionary sex. In this moment, my aching muscles and bones wished that were still the case. I've never felt pain like this.

Granted, Mr. Grey took special care of me in the early morning hours – being extra attentive and rubbing soothing balm all over me with his firm hands. However, it wasn't enough to prevent the world of hurt I'd experience after Doug the Driver dropped me off back at the apartment just before six o'clock. Sure enough, Mr. Grey was long gone when I woke up around five to pee, and I couldn't fall back asleep.

Waking up all alone after being caressed and held for most of the night never gets easier.

I shake away the nagging thought as I watch the shadow emerge from my door's threshold and saunter across the room towards the window. Before I can protest, light begins pouring in like a tidal wave. I am practically hissing like a burning vampire.

"Why are you still home?" Kate says, looking dead at me with eyes of concern. "Don't you have classes?"

I'm rubbing my eyes with both hands, trying to register the time; the day. It's all a blur.

"What time is it?" I moan like the living dead.

"It's almost one."

Fuck. As soon as I attempt to scoot from the bed, every single muscle in my body begins to protest.

"Owwww."

Kate rushes over to my bedside. "What's wrong? Do you not feel well?"

"No," I say point blank. I stay exactly where I am and don't move a single muscle.

"Do you have a fever? Do you think it's the flu?" At her words, she ensures that she maintains a safe distance just in case what I have is indeed contagious.

I wish it were. It would be easy to explain the flu. There's no way to tell your best friend who really has no idea what's been going on with you for the past two months that you were getting fucked senseless just hours ago. She still thinks I'm a virgin, for heaven's sake. I couldn't even begin to conceptualize how a reveal with her would go down.

Yeah Kate, I signed a contract to perform private dances on weekends and whatever weekday that this smoking hot young Seattle billionaire swoops into town on his helicopter. Oh…and by the way – after every dance, he likes to tie me up, blindfold me, and bang my uterus out of place. And when I wake up in his hotel room, it's just like the tooth fairy, except instead of a silver dollar and a pack of Dentyne, I get a sweet handwritten note along with a check with three or four zeros under my pillow.

Oh God, Steele, what the hell are you doing?

I feel much regret this morning – no…late afternoon. I feel like I'm losing sight of what's important. Last week, I got my first B-grade on a paper. A "B" for crying out loud! And now I'm missing classes for the first time since enrolling here. I groan at the very thought.

"Is that a new phone?" Kate says as she stretches over the edge of my bed and reaches toward my bedside table.

Fuck, another track to cover. I was barely able to cover the tracks with her last Saturday when I arrived driving a glaring red Audi and not the inconspicuous Nissan that I last left home with. The very car that I bought in Kate's presence. And here I go, randomly bringing a better, more expensive car home like it's some stray cat that I supposedly ran into on the way home from Lake Oswego. I knew that there was no way in hell that Kate was satisfied with my answer.

"I was bored and visited the dealership in Portland, and I decided to take advantage of a deal that reduced my car note by twenty-five percent by trading in the Nissan for a newer, sleeker car with extra bells and whistles."

Yeah, it was a stupid lie, but that was the only explanation I could come up with after Kate saw my Audi key fob sitting on the kitchen counter and asked me who's slick car key that was. Afterwards, she proceeded to ask me a ton of questions about the transaction and later voiced her issue with me potentially falling for a scam. I told her that my car notes were now way lower and that she had nothing to worry about. But with me just saying that, it never does anything to ease Kate. She's the mom I never had, and that's not necessarily a good thing. Sometimes, you just need your best friend.

"My other phone died. Betsy gave me her spare," I murmur.
Good one, Steele.

"Hmm," she says observing the device. "This looks practically brand new. I'm just glad you got rid of that flip phone. So, where's your car? I didn't it see it parked outside."

I groan. I've always hated playing One Hundred Questions with Kate.

"It's on campus. Betsy picked me up and then dropped me off last night."

I feel absolutely miserable. My bones hurt – but that could be partially attributed to all of the dancing I was doing both at the club with the girls and back at the hotel with Mr. Grey. But my insides also hurt, and that can only be attributed to one thing: Hard fucking. I'm afraid to pull back the sheets. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if I saw blood after the pounding I took. Yes, Mr. Grey certainly held up his end of the bargain when he guaranteed that he'd fuck me so good that I wouldn't be able to walk the next day.

Damn him.

You could've used the safe word, Steele – my innermost thoughts nag. But whenever I'm in the moment with him, all rationality flies out of the window. It's like the logical Ana leaves, and this wanton sex goddess steps in and takes over my entire being.

I try and straighten up in bed in order to get a better look at Kate, but my entire body protests against me. I groan loudly.

"My god, Ana – you're in serious pain. Are any of Betsy's boys sick? Did you perhaps catch what they had?" Kate asks.

"I have no idea. Perhaps." I can barely shrug my shoulders, which also hurt. They were contorted behind my back at one point, after all. Maybe if I weren't so out of shape, I'd be more resilient towards Mr. Grey's exertions. Outside of dancing, I haven't really been working out all that much.

Kate swings up from the edge of my bed. "I'll email all of your professors on the portal and let them know that you've been in bed all morning resting from a sudden illness."

I flash her a weak smile. "Thanks."

"You want me to pick you up some soup or something?" she offers.

"Sure," I say with another weak smile. I am famished all of a sudden. Kate heads towards the open door.

"I'll get you a couple of Advil. Maybe that'll help take the ache off," she trails off after stepping out of my room.

Oh, Kate Kavanagh. She's continuing my aftercare where Christian Grey left off.
I cringe at the thought.

When I asked Mr. Grey hours ago why he insisted on massaging my whole body after sex, he talked about it being customary for doms to perform 'aftercare'. Before he said that, there was a part of me that hoped he was doing it because it was an intimate exchange and he yearned to maintain a connection with me after sex. And although it felt very intimate, although he seemed to relish in caring for me, I couldn't help wondering if he was simply going through the motions.

But what alarmed me even more was how he still referred to himself as a 'dom'.

If he's still a dom, then what does that make me?

….

So, you decided to stay home from class today
I'm glad you're resting

His stalking certainly knows no bounds. I roll my eyes at the sight of Mr. Grey's text bubble on my brand-new iPhone. After taking the Advil and eating the hearty chicken soup that Kate brought me, I dozed off for two more hours.

Someone thought it would be a great idea
to keep me up all night on a school night

It takes him no time to respond.

I'd apologize, but it wouldn't be sincere
I have zero regrets about last night

What an ass!

Oh really?

Really.
Do you regret it?

Where do I begin?
I ache everywhere

I see the dots rolling in the text window letting me know that he's conjuring up a response that's sure to annoy the hell out of me. Will it be a naughty reply, or will he simply brag about accomplishing his goals in bed?

Everywhere? Even inside of my favorite place?
I told you that my aim was to make you hurt later

I giggle that his reply ended up being a little bit of both, but then I wince in pain from the spasm. My very core radiates in pain.

You'll probably hurt tomorrow, too

He's still typing…

If it makes you feel any better,
my arm now hurts after you repeatedly
slapped it in the parking lot
after I tossed your phone

Oh shit, I did do that, didn't I? I feel vindicated, yet there's a slight tinge of shame for crossing a boundary by striking him…even though I was careful to do it in a safe zone. I don't understand for the life of me that even in the midst of my anger, I was still cognizant about where and where not to hit him. I smirk at the thought, but when my mind recalls the old scars on his chest, my smile immediately wipes away.

Was he abused as a child? I know that Mr. and Dr. Grey adopted him when he was four years old. I read all about it. But what happened in his life before then? And where does the blonde vixen in the man's suit come into play? He said that she wasn't the girl he recently stopped seeing. So, who is she? God, I have so many questions and I'm not certain that he'll ever address them. It took me putting myself and my job at risk for him to come clean about being into BDSM.

I'm scared to think what it will take for him to tell me exactly why he doesn't like to be touched in certain areas. The very thought causes bile to rise up in me.

Are you there?

I'm here

You have nothing to say about hitting me?

Sorry?

You're not sorry

I carefully laugh as I begin typing my response.

Just like you're not sorry for torturing me
and causing me to miss classes today

You consider that torture?
You didn't like it?

If that wasn't his idea of torture, I'd hate to think what is. I mean, he hasn't pulled out the whips yet. Oh god, I don't know if I could ever handle getting hit. My own parents have never hit me.

I liked it

I blush after sending it.

What did you like about it?

Geez, he wants details. I shake my head.

What are you doing right now?

I'm in a meeting not paying attention.
Tell me, what did you like about last night?

Even my overstretched smile is starting to ache as I imagine him seated at the head of a boardroom not paying any mind to the meeting's speaker and texting me instead. Perhaps I should rile him up?

Let's see if you maintain your staunch businessman front, Mr. Grey.

I don't know how, but when you tied my arms and ankles
behind my back and I couldn't move, it exacerbated my desire

I giggle out loud after hitting 'send', even though I'm terrified as I anticipate his response. He takes a beat but then I see that he's typing again.

That's natural, Anastasia. When you let go and give away all control,
it's freeing. You become hyper-aware when you can
no longer physically react to stimulation

How does he know how free I felt?
Do all of his submissives take an exit survey?
I shudder at the thought.

So, what else?

When you licked me back there
I wasn't expecting that

Whether you know it or not, your entire body belongs to me
No area is safe from my tongue

Holy hell. Even in the midst of aching pain, this man still knows how to make my temperature rise with desire. It's beyond annoying how much control he has.

Did you like it when I did that?

Holy cow, this is so embarrassing. I can feel the blood rushing to my face with a vengeance.

I guess

It's a simple yes or no answer, Miss Steele
Did you like it?

God, he can be unbearable sometimes.

Yes

I remind myself that he's the one in the presence of others while I'm alone and in the comfort of my own bed. He should be paying attention to his employees. Instead, he's wanting to know if I enjoyed him licking my ass. It's amusing, so I pour it on.

I didn't know it would make me so wet

I chuckle. That should rile him up.

You were beyond wet

I was

I'm starting to get breathless as I await his response.

You should've seen it when I slid inside
You were dripping off of me
It was remarkable

I groan, not only in pain but in extreme want. Like him, I like looking down where we connect and watching him slide in and out of me. I guess the only downside about last night was that I didn't get to see it happen after getting cuffed.

Was it?

Oh, yes.
In fact, I wish that we were still at it
right now at The Heathman

I roll my eyes. Is that all he can think about while I'm lying in bed in pain right now due to his sweet aggression from the night before? Yeah, I know I prompted this risqué discussion, but how can he say that he wished we never left the hotel and that we were doing the same thing, when I had to miss school today because of it?

I'd rather he said that he wished he was here to give me a back rub.

That makes one of us

Excuse me?

I laugh out loud through the pain.
Aww hell, let me put him out of his misery.

I'm in no shape right now to do that again

That's right. You're still hurting.

Well, if I weren't in meetings the rest of the week
with visitors from China, I'd be right there with you,
nursing you back to health

So, he quickly redeems himself. Just the very thought of his willingness to care for me sends a warm wave through me. Maybe that's all I needed to hear from him to hold me over until I see him again.

I'll be fine. At least I'm getting some rest
and a much needed break from classes

Rest up while you can because it'll soon
come to an end when I see you this weekend

And there he goes again, ruining yet another tender moment – I sigh to myself.
He's such a guy. I roll my eyes. I can't even think about sex right now. But something tells me that once I see his face that's so drop dead gorgeous that it should be illegal, and once he speaks sensual words to me with his panty-melting voice, and then after that – he disrobes, revealing his killer body right before he touches me, teasing me…I'll be begging him to pound my already battered body once more.

I can't help it. Every single part of me is a glutton for his wild, sensual punishment – and I idly wonder if full-on BDSM is the true natural progression for me. I'd recently come to terms with how much I relish in pleasing this man during intimacy. The look in his burning gray eyes when I'm either on the floor dancing for him, or on my knees gazing up at him while I'm servicing his cock…

Or the fire in his eyes as he's on top looking down at me – taking; giving. If I've ever lived for anything else before experiencing that, it's now a dead, distant memory.

Bye, Mr. Grey

Laters, Miss Steele

Laters? – I laugh to myself. That is so unlike the prim and proper Mr. Christian Grey.

Soon, I'm brooding over the fact that he never calls me anything other than Miss Steele…or baby. He will throw in an Anastasia every now and again, but when I try and correct him by saying 'Ana', he ignores me. He'll never say Ana.

What's even more bothersome…he never corrects me when I call him Mr. Grey.

I immediately get a sick sinking feeling in my stomach at the thought of us always operating this sordid client/'artist' relationship. It might be all fun and games now, but the moment I walk across that stage and get my diploma, all bets are off. It'll be time to grow up. I can't expect to flourish in life living in secret with such a private man who wants nothing more but for me to dance and fuck him.

Today, what we have is good. But tomorrow, it'll be played out.

Still, I have this everlasting longing inside of me for this man. But my fear is the moment I tell him after graduation that I want more, he will lose all interest in me. If anything, he's going to want someone who's willing to literally to take a hit for him. And although I very much enjoy his kinky fuckery, I couldn't imagine taking things past anything we've done last night.

During a session with Joy, she mentioned that butt plugs and nipple clamps are just two of the many staples in the BDSM realm. I remember cringing when she said that. Although Mr. Grey has um…licked me back there, I can't imagine anything other his tongue going inside of there. I shudder at the very thought.

Sex…especially with Mr. Grey has been more than I'd ever imagined. And dancing, especially for him, has been solidified in my soul. But could I be satisfied in a relationship that's only made up of dancing and fucking? And will Mr. Grey be completely satisfied with dancing and a modified BDSM program?

I don't think so.

I am going to want more soon, and so will he.

….

It's Thursday, and I close my laptop in bed after emailing all of my professors letting them know that I'm still not in good physical shape to roam the campus. For the last twenty-four hours, I've been limping around the house and popping Advil like nobody's business.

Kate's been taking great care of me. She was also kind enough to stop by one of my professor's offices and pick up a small book that I'll need to read for the next exam. And in between her classes, she stops by the apartment to check on me.

Whenever Kate drops the me-me act, she is actually a fantastic best friend.
And as long as she's still in charge, she's golden.

She sorts of reminds me of someone else I know.

As I place my closed MacBook on the table, my phone buzzes, startling me. I peep that it's a Portland number.

"Hello?"

"Miss Steele?" a male's voice says.

"Yes?"

"It's Luke. Luke Sawyer."

"Oh…hey Luke? How's it going?"

"It's going good. Hey, I just wanted you to know that I landed the job and I'm outside of your apartment – on watch right now."

My eyes grow wide. I'm relieved yet weirded out that I'm currently being staked out by my good friend's boyfriend. If I wasn't in so much pain right now, I'd go and check the the window for him.

"That's…great," I say, but excited and confused. He laughs.
"I'm glad you're on payroll now. Maybe Becky can quit soon."

"I sure hope so," he sighs. "I don't know how long Mr. Grey will have me at your service. I sincerely hope that he has something else lined up for me after I'm done working for you."

"I'll be sure to ask if there's anywhere else he can assign you once we put Jay Dark behind us," I assure him.

"Thanks, Miss Steele."

I want to say – Please, call me Ana – but I'm much too sore and tired to argue with him.

….

I'm sitting up in bed after my nap, doing class work when my phone rings again. It's Luke.

"Hey."

"Miss Steele…Raymond Steele is approaching your main steps."

Dad?

"How do you know it's my stepfather?" I gasp.

Oh my god…please don't be him.
I look a complete mess.

"I've studied all of the faces of everyone you know. Mr. Taylor gave me a copy of your file."

I have a fucking file?!
I'm mortified.
Who else has a file?

"Also, if I don't know their face and they ring your unit, I get a notification on the security dashboard app on my phone that Mr. Taylor installed."

Jesus – this is getting too way out of hand.

"You guys rigged my door bell?" I groan.

"Someone on Mr. T's team did."

I can't believe what lengths Christian Grey and his cronies will go through just to keep me safe. I don't know if I should either be honored or fearful for my life.

"Ana! Ray's at the door?" Kate shouts.

Yeah, yeah…I know.

"Hey there, Katie," I hear him call out. I'm sure he's hugging her right about now.

"Where's my Annie?"

"She's in bed. She hasn't been feeling very well these past few days."

"Is that right?" he says in a voice that doesn't tell me whether he's concerned. That's Ray for you. The man shows no emotion. Soon, there's a rap on my bedroom door.

"Come in," I say as I close my computer screen. I look up and see my sweet stepfather, the man who I consider to be my dad, shuffle into my room in an oversized-flannel hunting jacket and Dickies.

"Annie…Katie says you haven't been feeling well."

No Dad, some strange man from Seattle comes into town every weekend and has his hired driver take me to Portland where he proceeds to fuck me until I can't move anymore.
And even though that is the god's honest truth, I'd never tell him that.

"I'm just a little under the weather. I'm sure I'll be fine by tomorrow."

"Jesus, Annie," he says as he walks in to get a closer look at me. "You look like shit."

Ouch. "Thanks, dad."

"I'm serious. Do you think you might have the mono or something?"

I gape at him. "The mono?"

"Larry who helps me out at the shop from time to time has a daughter who's your age and in college, and her mono is always flaring up. It puts her down flat for a whole week every time she gets it," Ray says as he takes a seat right next to me. When he runs his hand through my hair, I know he's slyly checking my temperature. He used to always do that when I was a kid.

Some things never change.

I'd hate to break it to him that you don't catch a fever getting savagely dicked down…unless that dick is carrying something else.

Oh, I'd fucking kill him if he'd ever gave me anything.

I quickly ditch the thought.

"I've been trying to get ahold of you for the past few weeks. I figured I'd just come by Vancouver and surprise you. Also, your mother's been bugging me to check up on you since you haven't been answering any of her calls either."

Oh god – I think as I massage my temple. I might have recalled a time or two where I might've ignored Carla's call because sometimes she takes a little bit more energy to deal with, but I'd never ignore a call from Ray. He's never one to call me a lot.

"Apparently I've been missing a number of calls and texts when I had my old phone. I just got a new phone two days ago," I tell him, pointing to it on the bedside table. "I shouldn't miss a call now."

I still get annoyed from time to time when I look at that new phone. And the new car. And the new clothes. Mr. Grey already pays me a lot to dance for him as it is, but he still buys me gifts on top of that. And clothes...and not just clothes to dance in. The outfit that I wore on Tuesday to the club wasn't a typical costume I'd dance in for Grey, so I decided to wear it out with the girls.

All the money, the clothes, the car, the phone…the sex. Is Christian Grey more of my sponsor than a client? It all seems a bit too tawdry for my taste, but I'm now at the point of no return. I'm totally hooked on him.

"I'm glad I thought good to check here first. I would've tried Clayton's next. Then I would've tried calling Kate."

"I don't work at Clayton's anymore," I tell him.

"What?" he gapes.

"Mr. Clayton closed the store. He had to file bankruptcy."

"So, who's paying for your school now?"

"I am," I tell him.

Finally, he shows a bit of emotion when he gapes at me.

"I'm babysitting four boys for a bigtime lawyer and his wife," I tell him.

"Wow, he must be pretty wealthy."

"They live in Lake Oswego."

"Oh, fancy," he says, knowing the area quite well.

Oh god…I hate lying to my father. Here he is, sitting bedside me, thinking that I have some airborne illness, when in actuality, I'm in pain because I've been messing around in bed with a billionaire who likes to tie me up like a wild boar and fuck me senseless…repeatedly. Ray would truly disown me if he ever knew the truth.

"I'm kind of disappointed that I'm just now finding out about you not working at the hardware store," he says. "You used to always tell me things, Annie. It's almost like I don't know you anymore."

And he's breaking my heart right now. My head drops until my chin hits my chest. However, it would be much worse if he knew that I was living this secret, lascivious lifestyle as a private dancer and sex siren for a multi-billionaire. I'd rather keep the lie going, so I look up.

"So, your mom and I had a chat. She said that Bob had some extra air miles that you can use to come to Georgia this month for Thanksgiving. Maybe you can do Christmas in Montesano for a change."

I perk up at the thought of finally having Christmas with Ray. Since that's normally my longest time off from school, I've traditionally spent Christmas and New Year's out of state with my mother.

"Sure," I smile.

He rubs my ratty hair. I know it's a mess right now…I just know it.

"Annie, please call your mother from time to time. You only have one."

Immediately, the guilt floods in. No matter how I felt about my mother seemingly putting her men before me in the past, I need to brush that aside and stop avoiding her.

"Alright, dad," I sigh.

As Ray and I hug, it dawns on me that I'll have to cancel Thanksgiving weekend with Mr. Grey, which shouldn't be a problem since he'll probably be spending it with his own family anyway; his mother, father, brother, and sister. He'd mentioned in passing that his sister would be soon taking a hiatus from culinary school abroad. I wished I knew more about his family. It's like pulling teeth whenever I bring them up. He hardly wants to talk about anything outside of work and me.

It's frustrating.

….

On Friday, I finally leave the apartment and am well enough to attend my one and only class. I make it back home around eleven. As I sit at my desk working on my laptop, Kate comes barging in. I swivel around in my chair.

"Oh my God, Ana…I have it from a very reliable source that our university will be announcing very soon that we've won a thirty-million-dollar grant from Christian Grey and Grey Enterprises Holdings to build a brand-new facility for the agriculture program and kickstart their extensive research program."

Boy, that's certainly a mouthful. I perk up at the news. Although I'd be very disappointed if this news is true and Mr. Grey has failed to mention this to me himself during the times that we've been together.

"That's…that's good?" I say, confused as to why Kate would care so much. We're liberal arts majors, for crying out loud. And by the time the program goes into full swing, Kate and I will be long gone.

"I've been trying all morning to land an interview with the ever-elusive billionaire who rarely grants interviews, and I'm having a difficult time. I've even reached out to my dad to see if he could pull some strings, but I'm hearing Mr. Grey is booked solid until sometime next spring," she sighs.

I shrug my shoulders. "I'm sure you'll find a way," I tell her.

She is Kate Kavanagh, after all. She's a pit bull when it comes to getting exactly what she wants.

….

My phone rings not long after Kate leaves the apartment to go work at the school paper. It's an unknown Portland number. Leery, I pick it up.

"Hello?"

"Hello, A…Ana?" a strong female voice speaks out.

"This is she," I reluctantly respond.

"Hey girl," her voice perks up. "It's Sweetness." I perk up right along with her.

"Hey there!"

"Hey…I hope you don't mind me getting your number from Becky."

"No…not at all."

"Cool. Hey…I wanted to discuss that thing I tried to tell you about at the club on Tuesday before Mr. Grey drug you out."

I pretty much groan in extreme embarrassment.
Damn you, Christian Grey.

"Look," she continues, "I wouldn't blame you one bit if you decided not to have anything to do with me after what I'm about to tell you."

My breath hitches at her words as I brace for the worse.

"Back when you were at Zion, I functioned as an informant."

My stomach bottoms out. "Informant?" I gasp.

"Yeah…for Mr. Grey."

Are you fucking kidding me?
For Grey?

"Really?" I say, trying to hold off my anger for as long as I can.

"Yeah. He wanted to know who you were talking to while you at work. I told him about Hot Chocolate."

Holy hell. Of course. That's how he found out about my friendly chats with Dawson Jacobs.

Why, the sleazy son of a bitch.

"Look, my baby's father lost his job and I needed the extra cash – so I agreed to Mr. Grey's request to rat you out."

"That's…that's not cool," I respond, not knowing what else to say to her.

"Yeah, it was mad dirty – I know. I consider you as a friend, Ana, and I broke your trust. Then I saw how Mr. Grey yanked you out of there before I even had a chance to tell you what I did. He may be fine as hell, but he still creeps me the fuck out. I hope you're being careful out there, Ana."

Well, too fucking late, Sweetness. I've already gave it up to the creep and now I keep coming back for more. I'm beyond disgusted with myself.

"But that's not what I called to tell you." I instantly grow cold after she says the words.

"Mr. Dark sent me out to the club that night to follow the girls. He orchestrated the whole thing. He gave them all the night off knowing that they'd ask you to join them. And the moment you showed up, he knew that Christian Grey would, too."

Holy fucking shit. I can feel my skin flushing. I suddenly feel cold.

"I was supposed to take pictures the moment I saw you and Grey together. I couldn't do it. I've already betrayed you before. So as far as I'm concerned, you were never at that club that night. At least that's what I told Mr. Dark. I don't know what he's trying to do to you, but he's totally up to no good, as usual."

Oh my god. I'm breathless. "Sweetness…thank you."

"Honey, it's not a problem. I just hope that someone gives Jay Dark what's coming to him. He's an evil, evil man."

"So do I, Sweetness," I sigh. "So do I."

CHRISTIAN

It's my absolute favorite time of the week as Miss Steele saunters into my executive suite.

"Why didn't you tell me about the grant with WSU Vancouver?" she immediately spouts off.

"Well…hello to you too, Miss Steele."

"Cut the crap," she barks.

I tilt my head sideways, thoroughly amused with her spiciness. If she weren't so darn enduring and beautiful, I'd spank the shit out of her for disrespecting me.

"I was going to tell you," I say in all honesty.

She is not amused. "Did you just pick my school because I'm a student there, so you can stalk me even more?"

I wince at her words. "Look, even though you go to WSU Vancouver, I was going to pick them anyway. They have a stellar agriculture program."

Well, if I'm being totally honest, I was leaning more towards USC Berkeley, but the Miss Steele advantage broke the draw.

I can tell that there's something else on her mind, but she quickly changes faces. She's a little softer.

"Hey, can you tell me the situation with Luke's ongoing employment after the Jay Dark stalking caper is resolved?" I narrow my eyes in confusion to her question. "He just wants to be sure he remains gainfully employed so Becky can quit Zion."

Oh. "If he does this job well, I can assure you that he will always have a job with me. Perhaps I'll even put him over the security team at SNA Corp."

Before I can say another word, Miss Steele is rising up on her tip toes and kissing me.

I should employ her friends' boyfriends more often.

….

Miss Steele's gasping heavily as I stroke her beautiful brown hair. I plant a kiss on her forehead. She's still reeling from her massive orgasm. Soon, she twists and faces me. My hand remains in her hair.

"I know that you paid one of the girls at Zion to keep an eye on me."

When she delivers the charge, I don't flinch.

"I did what I had to do in order to protect what is mine." I immediately kiss her lips, but when I pull away, the look of irritation doesn't leave her sea-hued eyes.

"You get in this mode where you like to talk about me like I'm cattle…or a car. I'm a human being," she charges.

I kiss her again. "I know, baby.

"So why don't you treat me like one? And why do you always leave money and a note on the pillow before you haul ass out of here?"

So…she wants to argue. I'll play her game.
She'll just want to fuck again afterwards,
which is totally fine by me.

"Would you prefer direct deposit?" I quip.

She hisses. "Ass."

"And you have a mighty fine one, Miss Steele," I tease, grabbing hers. She squeals, and I pull her into me. She's squirming and laughing hard. When she's breathless, I can't help but claim her lips with mine once again.

When the kiss ends, she says, "I want to ask you a favor." My eyes narrow suggestively, and she sighs. "Not that, dirty mind."

"You like my dirty mind, don't you," I taunt before quickly giving her delicious lips a peck.

"Seriously," she says, and I give her my best poker face. "My best friend helps run the school newspaper, and she really wants to land an interview with you to discuss your partnership with the school."

Is that all she wanted?
I narrow my eyes at her.

"Yeah…of course."

She gapes at me in total shock. "You'll do it?"

I chuckle and nod. "I'm just shocked that you waited until after we had sex to ask. Look at you, using sex as a weapon to get your way. Well done, Miss Steele." Immediately, she blushes, and I give her lips another kiss. "I'll have my assistant contact her next week with a day and time."

"Can you do it this month?" she sweetly asks while gently rubbing my arms. My dick appreciates the gesture.

"Sure," I reply. "Now, Miss Steele, can you do me a favor?" I now have her full attention. "I need you to grab your ankles and pin them by your ears. You're rather flexible, my dancing queen. And besides, I've been thinking about taking you that way for the longest time."

I expect a full-out argument, but instead she rocks her body away from me and then proceeds to form her body into a pretzel, making her ankles come as close to her head as she possibly can.

Holy fuck.

"Ready when you are, Mr. Grey," she rasps…and soon I take her just like that.

ANA

Tuesday morning before I leave the apartment for class, I get a cryptic text from Mr. Grey.

When Miss Kavanagh makes mention
of Seattle today, offer to join her

I'm puzzled until Kate comes skipping into the living room.

"Oh my god," she gapes, "Mr. Grey wants me to meet him tonight in Seattle. He's granting me the interview!"

Her excitement is contagious, so I hug her.

"When are you leaving?" I ask.

"If I leave campus at two, that should give me plenty of time to get there by the six o'clock interview time."

"That's good," I smile.

Immediately the words of Mr. Grey's text come to mind, but how in the hell can I invite myself when Kate's going there to do a very serious interview with him? And where will he and I find the time to talk alone anyway? He knows good and well that Kate knows nothing about my experience at Zion, or my current situation with him.

"Hey, aren't you done by two, also? Why don't you come along with me, so I don't have to drive alone?" Kate suggests.

Look at that.
And I didn't even have to offer.

"Sure," I reply. Kate squeals in greater excitement in spite of my visible reluctance.

I hope that he doesn't make me regret tagging along.

….

After a lengthy drive, Kate pulls up to the guest parking spot of a high-rise building.

Escala?

I've seen many photographs of Grey House and it looked nothing like this. Still, it's a really nice building. Perhaps this is just another one of Christian Grey's many other satellite locations. Or perhaps it's some fancy restaurant on top of the building with a 360-degree rotating floor.

"Where are we?" I ask

"Mr. Grey lives here."

His home?
He's having the interview at his house?

I'm floored. Why in the hell would he invite my best friend to his home for a one-on-one interview? What if I decided not to join her? Would he still have her here? I cringe at the thought.

Kate straightens out her navy-blue dress suit and checks her makeup in the glass before security buzzes us into the extravagant main lobby. As usual, I pale in comparison to the incomparable Kate Kavanagh wearing high-heeled boots, jeans, and a golden cowl neck sweater under a smoke-colored trench coat. When we enter the building, I immediately spot Taylor who's already standing to greet us.

"Miss Kavanagh?" he says.

I'm literally shaking in my boots thinking that Taylor will address me and potentially blow my cover. But to my utter relief, he doesn't. Instead, he glances my way and gives me a kind nod. I'm relieved.

"Yes – Katherine Kavanagh and Anastasia Steele here to see Mr. Grey?" Kate says, all official-like.

"Sure," Taylor responds. "Please follow me, ladies."

We bypass the security desk and the facing visitors' log and follow Taylor towards the elevator. He lets us in first and the doors close shortly after he steps in. I wonder which of the floor buttons he's going to push. Instead, he hits the pound key on the small keypad beside the floor buttons, and types in a bunch of numbers really fast. Then, the elevator begins to shoot straight up like an express elevator.

"That is so neat! The elevators at our apartment aren't nearly this fast." Kate's talking to me, but I'm not paying her any mind as I watch the numbers go up, up, up, even past the highest number on the display board. Holy shit. When the elevator finally stops, the doors instantly part.

"After you, ladies," Taylor says with an arm extended past the opening. Kate and I walk out together.

"Man…" Kate gapes in astonishment.

I'm taking in all of the art in bust and hanging form in the hallway.
Holy shit…or is this the foyer?

"What apartment is Mr. Grey in?" I blurt out. I see no other doors with numbers in sight.

"You're in it. Mr. Grey has the entire penthouse floor," Taylor replies. I gape at him.

Yep, this is his foyer.
We're already inside of his apartment.
Good lord.

"Well, la di da," Kate sings, highly impressed.

We follow Taylor through the walkway and into the great room area. It's breathtaking. There's a sweeping staircase and majestic chandeliers hanging from a ceiling that reaches the heavens. A piano. I'm astounded.

He lives here? His mainstay executive suite at The Heathman has nothing on this place.

"Miss Kavanagh," I hear a familiar voice say.

Soon, my eyes feast on sex with two legs. Thank God, he's still wearing a suit. My mouth starts to water at the very sight of him. He approaches my best friend and extends his hand to her without lingering on me. My heart jumps.

"Christian Grey. Pleased to meet you."

Holy shit. I'm just as breathless as if this is my first time meeting him.

"Nice meeting you, too," Kate purrs. "You have a gorgeous home."

"Thank you."

"And thank you for agreeing to do the interview on such short notice."

"Glad to do it. I'm looking forward to breaking the news in your article. The agriculture program at WSU Vancouver is a very big deal," he replies in a panty-dropping husky voice.

"I'd say," Kate beams a little too much.

Oh, Kate. You are so predictable.
Lower your skirt back down, hussy.
He's already in a complicated relationship.

With me.

As I stand off to the side watching my best friend and the man that I've been screwing exchange pleasantries, I feel like a vice grip is squeezing my chest.

"Oh…how rude of me," Kate says, remembering herself. "I hope you don't mind, but I asked my best friend and roommate to join us since I had to drive quite a way to get here. This is Anastasia Steele."

I extend my hand and he takes it and squeezes it firm. The look in his eyes has me practically melting into a puddle of goo.

"Anastasia," he says in a voice that almost has me disrobing right then and there.

"Ana," I whisper back. "Please."

I catch a twitch at the corner of his mouth. I wish I could burst out laughing, but I'd certainly break our cover that way.

"Mr. Grey, where would you like for us to set up for the interview?" Kate asks.

"I'd thought you ladies might want to join me in the dining room for dinner first," Mr. Grey says kindly after releasing my hand. "I'm sure the long drive worked up your appetite." And when he says the word 'appetite', his hungry eyes go straight to me. I blanch and quickly turn my head.

"Why, sure," Kate happily pipes. "And if you don't mind, maybe we can start the interview over dinner? I find that interviews tend to be a little more laid back over a good meal and a nice beverage."

"Fine by me," Grey says. "Please, follow me."

He extends an ushering hand and Kate walks ahead of us. I follow her. Suddenly, I feel a hand firmly planted on my ass. I gasp. Quickly, his lips swoop down and peck mine the moment I look up at him to give him the evil eye. I'm breathless.

"You look beautiful tonight, baby," he whispers silkily in my ear.

Lord Jesus.

My vagina is singing God Bless America, but my brain is freaking out right now. I flash him a quick glare and he smirks at me.

Boys.

….

Dinner was freaking spectacular. We partook in duck breast simmered in cranberry sauce, green beans and mashed potatoes. I'm seriously in heaven right now. Earlier, we were introduced to the woman who prepared and served the delicious meal, Mrs. Jones – Mr. Grey's housekeeper. Geez, what I wouldn't do to have a Mrs. Jones of my very own. If I got to eat like this every day in Seattle, no way in hell would I be away all the time in Portland eating lame hotel food.

As Kate finally starts the interview, Mrs. Jones clears dinner and prepares to serve coffee and tiramisu. She starts around with a carafe and begins to pour piping dark fluid into the porcelain mug in front of Mr. Grey.

"Thanks Gail," he says quietly, and she walks over to Kate.

"Coffee, Miss Kavanagh?" the kind, older blonde beauty asks.

"Sure," Kate smiles. "Thank you." She positions her digital recorder and presses record. "So, Mr. Grey, tell me how you decided to partner up with a university for your global green initiative. And did you ever consider starting your own independent research faculty?"

Instead of looking at Mr. Grey for his response, I'm distracted when Mrs. Jones doesn't even bother to ask me if I want coffee before walking away. Huh?

"Well, I already have my own research lab inside of our corporate headquarters in downtown Seattle," Grey responds. "I think it's important to team up with academia and enlist the help of bright young minds. I'd like to engage new thinkers who aren't yet jaded about what did or didn't work in the past."

Mrs. Jones returns, but now she's hauling a completely different porcelain carafe. Oh, she had to go and get more coffee. I close my eyes feeling mighty stupid for being upset earlier. I don't even drink fucking coffee in the first place.

"Do you think you'll form an internship program that will invite students at WSU to apply for jobs at Grey House?"

I watch as Mrs. Jones stands over my shoulder and tilts the spout directly over my empty mug. But instead of coffee, it pours out steaming hot water. My eyes round in surprise. Oh my god…she knew! Immediately, Kate stops talking and is now gaping at her, too.

"Wow, how did you know that she prefers tea?" Kate asks.

Mr. Grey obviously told his housekeeper what I drink, but why? I feel the blood rushing to my face. I glance over at him and he's just as cool and calm as a cucumber even though he and his housekeeper are clearly about to blow our cover to my best friend.

Bastard.

"I prefer tea as well. It was just a wild guess," Mrs. Jones smiles like Mary Poppins. "Miss Steele, what type of tea would you like?"

"Do you have Twinings English Breakfast?" I squeak. Get a grip, Steele.

"I've got you," she says with a wink before stepping off to the side.

In the middle of coffee and dessert, Kate's questioning has gradually progressed from the earlier softball ones. At first, it was all about how one of his company's main goals is to sustain the planet and provide food and resources for developing countries, and how much Grey is looking forward to the ongoing relationship between GEH and WSU Vancouver.

Now, Kate's getting personal…and I don't like it.

"So, I've noticed when you're photographed at fundraisers and other corporate events, you go alone. There's no potential Mrs. Grey waiting in the wings?"

Aw hell, Kate. Give it a rest.

"I'm a very private man, Miss Kavanagh," he responds with no edge whatsoever. "I like to let my work speak for itself."

"But why do you work? What good is all of the success if you don't have anyone to share it with?"

Shoot me now.
If I could kick her under the table, I would.

"Who's to say that I don't already have someone to share it with," Grey counters.

Holy shit. My mouth flies wide open, but I hurry up and close it.

"Do you?" Kate challenges.

"Sure."

I'm practically shaking.

"Family," he says.

I get a sinking feeling in my stomach.

"So, no little lady? Mr. Grey?"

He chuckles. "Why is that of your concern, Miss Kavanagh? I thought you wanted to interview me about the grant?"

"I'm interested in giving my readers the full story, Mr. Grey. They want to know all about the man behind the check. Can we trust you and your company on our campus? Inquiring minds want to know."

"What I do in my personal life has nothing to do with my philanthropy, Miss Kavanagh."

Holy shit.

I can tell that he's had enough of her. She's pushing him much too hard.

"What about a man, Mr. Grey? Is there a man in your life?" Kate says suddenly.

Are you fucking kidding me?!

"Kate," I finally snap.

"No…there isn't a man," he says as calmly as possible.

"So, there is a woman, then?" Kate says with hope lingering in her eyes.

"Kate…cut it out," I groan.

"I apologize, but everyone is anxious to know who Christian Grey's been dating." She then turns to him. "Seriously, you don't have to tell me who she is. But you'd really be doing me a solid if you break the news to our paper."

"Oh my god," I say out loud under my breath.

Finally, Grey's armor cracks and he lowers his face into his hands to massage his temples. He's beyond irritated.

Is he going to tell her that he's been seeing me on weekends?
I shudder at the notion.

"I don't think that matters, Miss Kavanagh," he finally replies.

"I think it does," she argues. "Right now, you come across as a tough as nails asshole." Lord Jesus, take me off this earth right now. "But if the people knew that you were seeing someone, they could relate more to you."

"I couldn't care less if people relate to me," he sneers.

And now the gloves have come off.

"You should care. You're in the public eye," she bops as she takes another sip of her coffee. "Jesus, even the coffee is amazing. And with that, I have to use the bathroom."

"Straight ahead and to your left," Grey calls out.

"Thanks," she says as she pauses her recorder. She excuses herself, while he and I ensure that she completely leaves the area.

"She is a royal bitch." He doesn't hesitate to make his stance known.

I sigh, exasperated. "I'm sorry. I…"

"She's rude and asks unnecessary questions that don't have shit to do with the program at WSU," he seethes.

"I know. It's just…she's a hard-hitting aspiring journalist who can't help but ask the tough questions…"

"For a fucking college newspaper! This isn't the Times."

"Yeah, I know – but she's trying to build up her portfolio so that she can get hired by the Times after graduation."

He scoffs. "I don't understand how the two of you are even friends, much less best friends."

I chuckle. "Believe it or not, it's not the first time I've ever heard that."

It was in that moment I knew that it would be extremely difficult for Kate Kavanagh and Christian Grey to co-exist in the same world as me. The very thought is devastating.

He shakes his head. "Why? How do you even tolerate that?"

"Because she was there for me during a time when no one else was. I was all alone when I first moved to Vancouver. She reached out and was a good friend to me ever since."

Suddenly, I feel his leg touching mine from across the table.

"I'm here for you now," he whispers.

My head drops down.

"Hey…what are doing for Thanksgiving this month?" he asks all of a sudden.

My heart nearly stops.

Is he going to ask me to join him and his family?

Oh my god.

"Why?" I ask.

"If you were planning on staying at your apartment, I need to know for security planning purposes."

My spirit immediately sinks.

So, he wasn't going to ask me over for Thanksgiving to meet his family.

"Well, as a matter of fact, I am flying to Georgia to visit my mother," I announce.

His look turns harsh. "Georgia?"

"Yes. My mother and her husband live in Savannah."

"Husband number four," he frowns. "Your other stepfather."

Yeah, judgmental asshole.
I don't say a word. He knows that I'm pissed.

"When did you decide to go to Georgia? Why are you now just telling me this?"

I frown at him. "I decided late last week."

"We spent all weekend together, and you're just now telling me about this?"

"Oh," I say, chuckling like an insane woman. "Don't even get me started on the plan you've been working out with my school for months without telling me."

"Fair enough," he replies, quickly letting his grudge go. "Send me your itinerary for Georgia, and I'll have Taylor brief Sawyer and make sure he's in position when you land…"

I gape at him. "What?"

"You'll need coverage in Savannah."

"Are you insane?" I gape. "Luke has plans with Becky and their families."

"So?" he says, unmoved. "He'll have to break them. He was hired to make sure that you remain safe."

"I will be with my family in Georgia," I hiss "There's no way in hell Dark will follow me there."

"I don't trust that asshole," he growls.

"I know, but please…trust that I'll be fine in Georgia. Maybe you can make certain that I board a flight without being noticed or something."

"Hmm, maybe you can take the GEH jet," he contemplates.

What?! He has a jet?

Of course, he has a jet.

"No…no jet. I want to fly commercial, so that my mother doesn't question why I had to fly into a small private airport."

"Fair enough," he says. "So, how do you like Seattle so far? Excited to move here after graduation?" He's now smiling at me and I feel my chest constricting. "I think it'll be good for you to start a career here after college. Plus, we can see each other more often," he says with a gaze hot enough to trigger dynamite.

Immediately, I am contemplating all of the possibilities. Perhaps after I move to Seattle, he and I could finally go public. You know…hold hands while strolling down Elliott Bay. I look at couples like Luke and Becky and I yearn for the same. Hopefully I'll finally get to meet his parents, Mr. and Dr. Grey, as well as his older brother and younger sister. I smile at the thought.

"And, there's one room in particular in this apartment that I can't wait to show you," he whispers.

Instantly, my dreams disappear in a cloud of smoke. Christian Grey's current idea of a relationship involves limits and boundaries…and contracts. His idea of a relationship and mine are currently two completely different things. Before I can say anything in response, Kate resurfaces in the dining room to conclude her dreadful interview.

….

"He's hotter than hell up close, but I couldn't deal with his domineering personality," she says as we cruise I-5.

If only she knew.

"You made him feel very uncomfortable back there. He was kind enough to fit you into his very busy schedule," I remark.

"When you have an opportunity, Steele, you take it," she lectures. "Do you know how many publications and news stations are clamoring to get time with Christian Grey?"

I sigh. "I hope you're fair in your article. You should stick to the story about the program at school. Don't make it personal."

"Sweetie, this is journalism. I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't remain honest," she peps.

Oh boy.
I'm dreading this article already.

And it's all my fault for convincing Mr. Grey to do it.

CHRISTIAN

It's the last Friday before she takes off to Georgia to visit her mother for Thanksgiving, and I'm already dreading it. I try to fall into the moment and not let the thought linger. It's not that difficult to do when she's squatting and rocking her body to the floor, seducing me to Janet Jackson's Would You Mind.

Not in the very least, Miss Steele.
Have your way, sweetheart.

Tonight, she's only wearing a lacy pink bra and matching panties. Hell, that's all she needs right now. That won't take much work at all for me to get to her creamy center.

Soon, her legs spread apart as she bites her finger, teasing me with her eyes. I lick my lips at her, ravenous for her. Soon, she's swoops forward and slithers right in between my perched legs, whipping around her gorgeous chestnut hair. Hair that I'll soon be tugging from the back.

….

"Ahhhh," she screams, as I pull her hair in bed. I'm fucking her hard and fast from behind on all fours.

"You like that?" I dig in.

"Yes," she whimpers.

"You like it, huh?"

"Oh god, yes…"

"Yeah? Take it. Take it, baby. Take all of this."

She cries out even louder.

"Yes," I hiss, tugging her hair so hard that I'm now able to reach her neck. I ravage it with my mouth. "That's a good girl. Come on…say my name."

She cries out but doesn't do what I tell her.

"You heard me," I growl. "Say my name."

"Mr. Grey!" she screams.

"No baby…Say. My. Name. My whole name."

"Chri…Chris…Christian…" she wails as I crash into her relentlessly.

"Yes," I groan. "Say it."

"Christian…"

"Fuck yes, baby…"

"Christian Greyyy! Ahhhh…"

"Fuck yeah…"

"Christian Greyyyy!"

"You're mine," I growl. "Don't ever forget it. And don't you give away what belongs to me while you're in Georgia next week. You hear me?"

"I won't…"

I go harder and faster, and she gloriously detonates all around me. I soon follow close behind her, collapsing on top of her back.

ANA

Wednesday before Thanksgiving, my mother hugs me tightly while I'm barely in the door. Bob wiggles past me as he lugs in my suitcase.

"Oh honey…I've missed you so much. I was a wreck when I couldn't get ahold of you," she says, kissing my cheek.

"I'm sorry…but I have a new phone now that actually works," I laugh.

"Yeah, Ray told me you that you were having phone trouble. Are you hungry? I just finished dinner."

An hour later, Bob's already reclining on his Lazy Boy, leaving my mother and me alone at the small kitchen table.

"So, have you finally met someone?" my mother says, raising her brows up and down all cheesy-like. I cringe.

"Mom," I sigh.

"Have you?"

I only shrug in response.

"I know you, Ana. Tell me."

"There might be?" I say with a silly smirk. Carla sighs in relief.

"What's his name?"

My smile immediately washes off. "I don't want to tell you his name. You know…in case it doesn't work out."

She chuckles. "Oh sweetheart, I get that. More than you know." I laugh. "So, tell me about him. Is he charming?"

"Yes."

"Handsome?"

"Very."

"Wow," she gasps. "Does he go to your school?"

I shake my head. "He's older."

"Really?" she says, intrigued.

"You know that I've always had an old soul," I remark.

"Absolutely. I'm not surprised that he's older. Does he live close by?"

"He lives in Seattle, but he travels a lot to Portland for work."

"So, he's a professional. What does he do for his company?"

I swallow. "He owns it."

"Really," she gapes. I nod. "So, you'll obviously see more of him when you move to Seattle with Kate after graduation, huh?"

Suddenly, I flinch.
Is that still the plan?

It's the very question that breaks me.

All throughout dinner, I sat and watch the loving banter between my mother and her husband. And all the while, I yearned to have the very same thing. I just don't know if I'll get that if I move to Seattle.

"I…don't know."

Soon, my mother is pulling her chair closer to my side. She wraps a single arm around me.

"Honey, don't you ever lose yourself in a guy. If it's not right for you, you'll know. And if you ever feel pressured, you can always come here and move in with us after you're done with school until you figure it all out. There's ton of great companies near here for you to choose from."

I sigh at the thought of taking a detour from Seattle and starting a new life in Georgia. I reach over and hug my mother.

"Thanks. I'll think about it," I murmur.

"No pressure. Just know that I'm here whenever you need me," Carla says before planting a kiss firmly on my cheek.

….

On the Friday after Thanksgiving, I join mom and Bob for lunch over at Bob's golf club. One major reason why Bob loves it here in Georgia so much is that he can play golf year 'round. The fact that he's addicted to the boring sport bugs my mother to no end.

After the three of us eat lunch, mom and I park ourselves on the terrace where we have the privilege of having cocktails delivered to us, while Bob hops on his golf cart along with his buddy Walt from work to tee off on the green nearby.

I'm having just a splendid time with my mom. Carla raves about how proud she is of me, and how I'm just a few short months away from getting my degree. She then makes mention that I didn't make the mistake of getting knocked up as young as she did. This conversation has always made me feel beyond uncomfortable.

Sure, Carla had me at a young age, but it's not like I want to hear how much she regrets giving birth to me. It's definitely a sore spot. As soon as I spot the waiter, I order another drink, and mom joins in. After a while, we start to get a little bit tipsy and laugh at practically anything.

"Bob thinks he's Arnold Palmer. Ray Charles can probably golf better than him," she says in a loud, drunk whisper.

"Mom! That's not nice," I say, cracking up anyway. "Bob enjoys golfing. I'm sure he's improving each time he comes out here."

"Fuck!"

I hear a shout from across the green. Mom and I see Bob from afar off, throwing down his club and stomping like a manic child in anger. My mother and me lock arms and begin howling in laughter.

….

"So pretty much, all I have time to do is teach myself how to knit…or read a book. I refuse to golf," my mother says with an eye roll.

"You're knitting now? I thought you were into scrapbooking?"

"Well, I ran out of things to scrapbook," she says. "I pretty much used all of your baby photos. Only way I'd pick it up again is after grandkids." I frown at her. "Which I hope won't happen for another ten years or so," she quickly adds.

"Oh," I scoff. "You certainly don't have to worry about that."

If I don't thank Zion for anything else, I'm grateful that they pushed the issue of birth control. I've been having an insane amount of wild unprotected sex with Mr. Grey. Hell, the result of the assault from last Sunday still has me throbbing in my underwear.

That man most certainly wore me out.

"I'm going to miss you next week" – he said as he took me in, out, and back into Pound Town.

"So…what about you?" my mother says, pulling me out of my forbidden reverie. "What do you do when you're not in school? If you're anything like your mother, you would have picked up and put down at least five new hobbies since I last saw you."

I laugh. "Um…I don't know," I say bashfully.

"You sure? No new hobbies?"

"Well, one."

"What is it?"

"I recently started taking dance lessons," I say softly.

"My goodness, Ana," she gasps "That's fantastic. What type of dancing?"

"Everything," I say. "Ballet, Latin, jazz, hip hop…"

My mother stills for a moment, lending an ear to the faint sound of music piping through the terrace. I finally take notice of LeAnn Rimes belting out Can't Fight the Moonlight.

"Give me a quick sample of what you've learned," Carla says all of the sudden.

"Here?" I gasp. "No way."

"Ana…please. Just a quick step or two."

I sigh. If it weren't for these cocktails, I wouldn't be doing this. "Fine," say with an eye roll as I stand up and step away a few feet from the table. I place my feet shoulder length apart and I do a rhythmic twirl while whipping my ponytail around. I rock up and back before swinging into a pirouette. I curtsy, and my mother is soon on her feet applauding me.

"My lord, Ana…that was… Wow." She's completely speechless.

I smile and nod, reclaiming my seat and reaching for my cocktail.

"I'm serious. That was amazing. What made you take up dancing?"

My spirit immediately sinks down to my feet. I've told lie on top of lie to Kate. I've lied to Ray. I don't have the energy or the strength to look Carla in her eye right now and lie to her. And in my silence, my own mother begins to read me like a book.

"Ana," my mother gasps. "Have you been intimate with this guy?"

"What?" I gape at her.

"I knew it," she beams, pointing a finger at me. "You've never shared any details with me about your sex life."

I frown in disgust. "It's because you're my mother."

"But you're an adult now, Ana. I'd always look forward to the day when you and I would finally become best girlfriends and share everything over a cocktail," she says as she raises her glass towards me. "And here we are."

Carla, you've always tried to be my girlfriend…even when I needed a mother.
The thought is unsettling.

All of a sudden, something swoops down from the sky. Before I can even make a sound, that something comes crashing down on the table and shards of glass begin to dance in midair. At first, I think it's either my drink or mom's that imploded. It takes a moment to realize that a stray golf ball just swooped down from the heavens and landed on the face of my brand-new iPhone.

My mom and I immediately turn towards the direction where we saw the ball come from, and we witness Walt with his hands on his head as he gapes over in our direction in horror. Bob looks furious. Shit, that was Walt's ball that just hit us. They immediately hop into the golf cart and make way towards us.

"Oh my God, Ana…are you okay?" my mother says accessing my face. "Did you get hurt?"

"No, I'm fine. It's just my phone."

I pick up what's left of it. It's not just the screen. The entire thing is dead. And suddenly I fall into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. My mother looks mortified. It doesn't take long for Bob and Walt to get here.

"What the hell!" my mother screams at the two men. "You just killed Ana's phone. That could've been our heads!"

Yep, Walt did a fantastic job assassinating my phone. His skills are comparable to Mr. Grey's at the night club's parking lot earlier this month.

"Ana, I am so sorry," Walt says, beyond remorseful. "I'll replace it first thing tomorrow."

"It's fine," I say, feeling terrible for the guy.

"No, it's not," my mother barks.

"Carla…Walt didn't mean for it to happen," Bob butts in.

"I don't care! He could've hurt Ana…or me!"

"But he didn't. Why didn't you girls stay inside to drink?"

"What?!" Oh boy. "I come here…day in and day out to support you and your friends who can't golf for shit…"

Jesus. Mom's drunk and furious.
Not a good combination.

Her and Bob start going back and forth and for a split second, I regret having what they have. But then I remember after the big fight that Christian and me had in the parking lot, it led to some very hot sex. I'm breathless just thinking about it.

"I'm taking you home, Carla," Bob groans. "You need a nap. Let's go, Ana."

….

Over dinner, I watched mom and Bob across the dinner table as he caressed her cheek and kissed her face every opportunity he got to do so. For most of the night, she beamed lovingly into his eyes. It's as if this afternoon never happened. I mean, Carla dissed Bob and his buddy's golf skills, for crying out loud. But it didn't matter to Bob anymore. Mom was now sober, and Bob was satisfied due to her spaghetti dinner.

As I lay alone in bed in the spare bedroom, I wonder if I'd ever have the same thing. It took my mother four tries to get there. I mean, the first one didn't really count since my biological father died a sudden death. Then when Ray came along, it was a great situation for me, but a not-so-great marriage for them. Then there was husband number three. We never talk about him.

I can't imagine enduring this feeling three other times before finding 'the one'. I don't know if I have the strength in me to get my heart shattered like my iPhone just for it to get repaired and later destroyed all over again. I know that Christian Grey has the power to break my heart. I feel that I'm already in too deep with him. Either way, it's going to hurt, no matter what.

Should I just go ahead and rip off the bandage now before things get even worse? Would it be wise to take my mother up on her offer and move here after graduation in May?

….

"Mimosas," Carla sings as she resurfaces at the breakfast table with two flutes with sparkling wine and a splash of orange juice. She hands me one.

"Breakfast was amazing," Bob says, rubbing his belly.

"Thanks for helping, dear," my mother says to me.

"Ana, you sure you don't want to move in with us after college? I could definitely get used to this," Bob beams at me.

"Hey," my mother says, pretending to be affronted. "Who'd you think taught her how to cook so well?"

Neither Bob or me say 'not you', but we're most certainly thinking it as both of us avoid eye contact with her.

"Forget the two of you," she scoffs. Bob chuckles and then throws his arms around his wife and starts littering her face with kisses. She tries to fight him off, but her attempts are futile. I laugh at the two of them. All of a sudden, the doorbell rings, startling the three of us. Bob immediately springs to his feet and heads towards the front door.

"It's probably Walt with Ana's new phone," he says, trailing off.

"You'll have to give me the recipe to that quiche," my mother whispers. "That was amazing."

"Thank you," I giggle.

"Who taught you how to make that? Ray?"

I shake my head. "It was a recipe I found years ago. You know, I used to cook for Ray all the time. I had to be really creative for meals with him. You know how picky he can be."

Slowly, my mother's smile fades. "That's right. You had to take over in the kitchen after I left." I can see the sea of regret floating in her eyes. Oh no mom, don't do this now.

"Ana?" I hear Bob call out. Both mom and I stand from our chairs and lean forward as he steps away from the door.

As soon as I blink, in walks a figure so familiar, yet so out of place in this house.
All the air leaves my chest.

"Christian?" I gasp in total shock.

A/N: Faithful readers – I'm so sorry for posting so late. I ended up hanging out with friends on Saturday and fell severely behind. I also haven't been able to do much writing during the week. I've been lacking energy at night after work hours. I will be paying my doctor a visit Monday to see if I'm lacking in some very important nutrients. I'm hoping that she prescribes me with something that will provide that extra boost I'll need to get me back writing in the evenings once again. I'd love to kick out two chapters in one week like I used to do.

So, in chapter 14 tentatively titled 'Salvation', Ana returns home from Thanksgiving break and is greeted by some serious blackmail material. How will she plan to get out of this mess?

Then, will the real José Rodriguez please stand up? Christian Grey would seriously like to kick your ass. Haha!

Until next week! XOXO – ST2