Hello Lovelies,

I'm going to keep it short and sweet and give you the abridged version I posted on Facebook. I know I've been absent for a while and I am overwhelmed by the concern this has stirred, but please know I'm okay and everything is fine. I'm just incredibly busy at the moment with work. I'm doing very long hours and only get chance to write/edit on my days off now.

Please know that even though I'm slow on updating, I'm still around. I'm not going anywhere. :)

I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thank you for your messages and support.

Much Love,

Chelsea x

We reunited with Christian and Elliot late afternoon, the five of us dining privately for a five-course spectacular feast. The hotel had set us up in a beautiful, candle-lit room filled with fragrant bouquets of roses and lilies, and a table perfectly designed for an intimate meal. The menu was blank, the chef prepared to make whatever we desired. Nothing was off limits, our tastes and preferences her absolute priority.

We planned on spending a few hours together before separating once more, us girls staying here to peruse the casinos while Christian and Elliot head further down the strip for a game of poker with some guys they met at golf.

Christian held tightly onto my hand throughout dinner, his thumb constantly stroking over my knuckles, soft and rhythmic circles. I turned to catch his eye and he smiled, that delightful and cheeky smirk of his making an appearance.

"I need to soak up as much of you as I can," he confessed quietly, leaning into my ear. He tucked my hair back over my shoulder. "I wish you could come with me. You could be my good luck charm."

"Kate will chop off your balls if you take me away from her," I whispered back, blowing him a kiss as he grimaced.

We pulled apart as our server moved around the table, topping up our glasses. He poured everyone a glass of wine before pouring another sparkling water.

"You're not drinking?" Mia observed, staring at me with her dark eyes from over the brim of her chardonnay.

"I'm going to pace myself tonight," I snorted, shaking my head. "Take it easy so I don't flake out later. I don't want to get drunk. Not again."

I shuddered as the memories of the New York trip fluttered back into my mind. The headache, the spinning rooms, the vomiting…

"Oh, yeah, I heard about what happened when you went to the Big Apple with Christian," Mia giggled. Her eyes shifted to her brother. "She threw up all over you, didn't she? A total barf fest?"

I sank back into my seat as everyone began laughing.

"She didn't just throw up on me," Christian shook his head. "She threw up everywhere. On herself, all over the bathroom floor. I had to wrestle her into the shower just to clean her up."

"It's a wonder you didn't puke!" Mia shot back. "You could never handle vomit."

"It's different when it's the person you love who's puked," he sighed, shrugged. "Still disgusting, but manageable."

"And that's exactly why I'm going to take it easy!" I protested. "I do not want a repeat performance."

"Me neither," he chuckled. "And I like this shirt. It's one of my favourites. I'd hate to throw it away."

"It looks like every other shirt you own," Elliot piped up, arching his brow. "You wear the same shit all the time."

"Says the man-child who still thinks overalls are cute," Mia joined in, balling up her napkin and throwing it at him, narrowly missing his head. "I happen to like what he wears. He has style. It's very…"

"Boring?" Elliot rolled his eyes.

"Chic," Mia corrected, scowling.

"Stop picking on the bride-groom," Kate ordered him. "It's his weekend. Don't be mean."

"Yeah, bro, it's my weekend," Christian winked. He reclined into his seat, draping an arm around my back. "What are you girls planning for tonight then? Blackjack? Poker? Slot machines?"

"All of the above!" Kate rallied, clapping her hands together. "We're going to have the full casino experience."

"And hopefully we won't end up bankrupt," I sighed.

A team of waiters bustled into the room to gather our empty plates, signalling the end of dinner and the moment of our departure.

Christian pouted.

"I fucking hate being away from you," he moaned.

"Jeez, you're so clingy," I teased, prodding him in the side. "I hate clingy."

"You love clingy," he retorted. He leaned over and smacked a kiss on my lips. "Besides, it's your fault I'm clingy."

"How exactly is it my fault?"

"I wouldn't have a reason to be clingy if you weren't so damned adorable," he said, tapping my nose. "Can you stop?"

"Would it make it less painful?"

"Much less," he nodded.

"Would it help if I was a total bitch to you and treated you like dirt?"

"Maybe," he shrugged. He pushed to his feet and pulled me up with him. His hands snaked around my waist, settling into the crook of my spine. "Be good tonight."

"I'm always good," I shot back, tutting. He grinned at me. "What are you worried about, Grey? That I'm going to piss all your hard-earned money up the wall?"

"Sure," he hummed. He winked. "Do you know how to play poker?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Ray taught me. I've never played for money though."

"It's a thrill," he explained. "I love the buzz. I get it when I secure a deal. But I also know when to stop."

"Good," I smiled. "I think I might hover around the roulette table though."

"Fan of the wheel?"

"I'm drawn to it," I mumbled.

"Stick with black."

"Not red?"

"Never red," he shook his head, his eyes darkening slightly.

I understood what he meant.

I nodded.

"Got any lucky numbers?"

"31 and 11," he revealed. "But go with your gut. That's what I normally do."

"I thought you go with your dick?" I frowned. "Isn't that where your instinct is?"

He narrowed his eyes and pulled me closer into his chest. I slid my hand between us and cupped him, spreading my fingers across the hardened outline of his length.

"My dick is telling me to bend you over this table," he muttered under his breath, his voice deep and velvety. "It's telling me to fuck you senseless. Fuck you until you can't stand up."

"What's stopping you?" I gulped.

"The fact my brother and sister are waiting over at the door. They're staring at us," he huffed. He shot them a sideways glance. "Couldn't we have had a bachelor/bachelorette weekend where we just stay in bed and fuck all day and night?"

"Sadly not," I shook my head. "That just sounds like a regular Tuesday to me…"

"Holy shit, Ana, how much did you win?!" Kate shrieked, her eyes almost popping out of her head at the sight of the chips stacked high in front of me. "Jesus, you need to cash that in before someone tries to rob you."

"It's not that much," I shook my head, smiling. "I guess I had lady luck on my side."

I had dropped chips whenever the urge struck me and, much to my surprise, my gut instinct had paid off. Handsomely so. I raked in the money, much to the other players' distaste. Christian's lucky 31 and 11 had been success, as well as my choices of 4, 17 and 21. That white ball landed on every single number of mine, like a magnet sticking to me each time.

I considered my stock pile and estimated it was in the thousands. Easily three or four.

I beckoned over two members of my personal detail and asked them to take the chips, wanting them off my hands. Better not to risk anything now. Security had stayed close to my side all evening, never more than an arm's reach away. Each of us had two guards and, as far as I could see, they were doing an exemplar job. I felt safe.

Kate and I excused ourselves from the table, a ripple of relief swirling from the other players, and headed to the bar for another round of drinks. I scanned the casino floor, looking for Mia.

"She's over at the slots," Kate pointed. I followed her finger and spotted Mia through the crowd. She was surrounded by a group of young men and women, all of them cheering and laughing. She was at the centre of it all. "Shall I go fetch her?"

"No, it looks like she's having fun," I shook my head. "She'll come join us later."

"She hasn't spent much time with us since dinner," Kate said, her neat brows pulling together. "You don't think she's feeling left out, do you?"

"What do you mean?"

"What, with that thing she said earlier? About being the only singleton?" she grimaced. "I wonder if she feels like she can't spend time with us. We do talk about the guys a lot."

"And we also talk about other things," I reminded her. "I'm sure if Mia felt like it was too much she'd tell us. She's hardly a shrinking violet like me."

"I guess," she shrugged. "Although, you're hardly one of those anymore. You speak your mind more freely these days."

"Maybe it's because I stopped giving a damn about what people think of me?" I retorted. "It's hard work, spending day in, day out worrying about what everyone is saying behind your back. And it doesn't get you anywhere. It's easier to shut the world out and get on with my life."

Kate smiled at my words, a look of pride shifting through her green gaze.

We reached the bar, taking the only two available stools. I sat down and twisted mine to face Kate properly, but she remained standing and instead dropped her bag on the seat.

"I need to use the restroom," she announced. "Get me a cosmo. I'll only be a minute."

I nodded and grabbed the drinks menu from in front of me.

"What will it be?" the tender asked, appearing from nowhere. He pushed his hands into the bar, propping himself up as he stared at me. He had a hawk-eye and a serpentine mouth. "Can I tempt you with one of my signature drinks?"

His cheeks were hollow, a dimple piercing into his protruding chin. His overall appearance unnerved me, my spine becoming rigid.

"No, thank you," I declined. I placed the menu back on the counter and slid it towards him. "My friend will have a cosmopolitan and I'll have a mojito."

"Coming right up, doll."

He made the drinks in front of me, whipping them up in hardly any time at all. As a former tender myself, I couldn't help but critique his style – the amount of times he shook the shakers, the order in which he added the ingredients. I was never that good at fixing a cocktail, but I had seen Cal master it on more than one occasion. This guy knew his stuff, clearly, but lacked finesse. He was performing, putting on a show just for me.

It made my skin crawl.

"Where's your friend?" he asked, pushing the drinks over. "She's not abandoned you, has she?"

"What business is that of yours?" I arched my brow.

He smirked back at me.

"I'm just making conversation with the sexiest girl in the room," he shrugged. His brows moved suggestively. "What brings you girls to Vegas?"

I released a low sigh, resisting the urge to roll my eyes into the back of my skull.

"Bachelorette weekend," I replied.

"Helping to celebrate the last few days of freedom for an unlucky friend?" he guessed.

"Not quite," I shook my head.

"Is your friend the chosen one?" he pestered. "Giving up her wild days for the monotony of marriage?"

"Not a traditionalist then?"

"It's for suckers," he shook his head. He leaned over the bar, gaining on me. I held my own but shifted back slightly. "Getting tied down, it's stupid. Not worth the hassle."

My eyes dropped to his left hand, taking in the distinctive mark circling his third finger.

"You're married?"

"Divorced," he corrected. "I speak from personal experience. It's easier being single… meeting a hot girl in a bar, make her a drink, show her a good time. It's what I do best."

"You're cocky," I fired back. "Sounds like your ex-wife had a lucky escape. I've only been in your company for a matter of minutes and already I feel like throwing myself off a high rise."

"You've got a smart mouth," he winked, laughing deep from inside his chest. "I like that."

"I've also got a fiancé," I said, flashing him my left hand. "It's my bachelorette."

His thin lips formed an O, his eyes widening too.

"In fact, it's a joint affair," I added. "My fiancé is here, having his bachelor party as well."

"Right…"

He visibly tensed. He looked around the room, as if searching for the man I am due to marry.

"He's not here, but you've probably met him. I know he was in here earlier," I continued. "Very tall, light brown hair, broad shoulders, perfect posture… famous…"

"Famous?" he frowned.

"Or infamous, depending on what you think of him. Not everyone is a fan."

"Oh?"

"He's ruthless," I nodded. "Can be cruel when he wants to be."

"And who is this infamous beast?"

"Christian Grey," I uttered.

I saw something pass over his face that caused my lips to split into a wild grin.

He rocked back on his heels.

"I think he'll love to hear you were hitting on his soon-to-be wife," I hooted. "That will go down a treat, I can tell you."

His entire face appeared to drop several inches, and he shuddered as another man approached him from the side and rested a hand on his shoulder. This second man was wearing a different uniform.

"Miss Steele –" he acknowledged me, nodding once. His name badge told me he was in charge. "Is everything okay here?"

"Yeah, everything is –"

The pesterer tried to quash it down with a rapid shake of his head, but I raised my hand to silence him.

"Actually," I said. I looked the boss in the eye. "This employee of yours is bothering me. It's making me feel very uncomfortable."

"Really? Well, we can't have that," the gentleman seethed. His fingers turned white as he pressed them deeper into the pesterer's shoulder. "Please accept my sincere apologies for this intrusion."

"I'd like him to leave me alone," I declared. "Now, please. I'm here to relax, not have my time interrupted by cheap pick-up lines."

The two men shared a look that left one of them significantly red in the face and the other with a vein bursting from his forehead. They rushed off, presumably to have stern words about etiquette.

I smiled to myself and took a sip of my mojito.

If there is one thing I've learned, it's that it is important to nip issues like this in the bud. Straight from the off, cut out the problem before it gets uncontrollable. I have spent my life pandering to other people, being nice and saving face. Where did it get me? Nowhere.

This new shade of Ana is strong and forthcoming. She is polite until you cross her, and she will speak her mind when she feels she needs to.

The pesterer was lucky. At least with me, he gets to walk away. Christian would have knee-capped him.

"What are you smiling about?" Kate asked, lifting onto her stool and gulping a large slurp from her drink. "You're almost blushing!"

"Some guy was hitting on me," I explained. I quickly shook my head. "And that's not the reason I'm blushing! In a round about way, I told him to fuck off."

"Woo, get you!" she grinned. "I'm not surprised he tried to hit on you, you're looking hot tonight. Your boobs look amazing."

I glanced down at my chest and the subtle V cut into my dress. From where I was sitting, they didn't look any different to normal. Still on the smaller side, maybe a fraction perter.

"New bra?"

"I'm not wearing one," I muttered. I pulled at the hemline, raising it. "But this dress is a little tight up top. The seamstress Mia hires must have gotten the sizing wrong."

"Either way, you're rocking it," she whistled. "No wonder Christian was fussing over you earlier. He could hardly keep his hands off you."

"Nothing out of the ordinary there," I laughed. "He's a nympho the best of times anyway."

We chinked our glasses and downed the rest of our drinks.

"What's the plan for the rest of the night?" I checked. "Are we staying here in the casino?"

"No," she shook her head. "We have somewhere else to be at eight-thirty."

"Are we catching a show?"

"Of sorts," she shrugged, coyly pursing her hot-pink lips. "We are going to have a private show. Just the three of us. For our eyes only."

I studied her smug face and felt a chill trickle down my spine.

"Oh god…" I moaned. "You haven't?"

"Haven't done what?"

"You've booked a stripper, haven't you?" I grimaced. "Kate, seriously? How could you?"

I swatted her arm, only making her laugh harder.

"Don't jump to conclusions," she urged, rubbing her bicep. "Just chill and see what happens."

"See what happens? I gave Christian shit about not having strippers, telling him that Elliot needed to be on his best behaviour…" I sunk my head into my hands. "I thought you knew I wasn't interested in any of that stuff?"

"I do," she nodded. "I know you like the back of my hand, but I also know sometimes you need to push the boat out. Try new things."

"I'm not going," I sulked, crossing my arms. "I am not going to sit there and have some random guy gyrate in front of me."

"Who said anything about it being a man?" she hummed, arching a brow.

"What?" I jerked my head back. "I don't –"

"Wait and see," she replied. "If you hate it, we'll leave and you can scream in my face. But please have an open mind?"

"If only you knew just how open my mind is already," I sighed. "Promise me there will be no penises shoved in my face?"

"I promise," she swore. "But there might be some phallic shaped objects…"

"I'm going to kill you."

"Christian knows," she added.

"He knows what?"

"What I have planned for you," she said. "I told him. He's fine with it."

"He approved whatever shit you've got planned?!"

She winked.

"Oh my god!"

"Ana, relax."

"Fuck's sake. I need another drink…"