Big Reputation

"Mr Grey, can I have a picture please?" A photographer stood with his lens aimed at him ready to shoot him in the head, and his eyes darted to the happy couple dancing to the upbeat tune in the center of the dance floor, mingling among other important people.

He could care less about smiling at the camera, he was pretty sure that the distant look in his eyes sells more than flashing his pearl white teeth.

How did I miss my opportunity to be with her? Was the only question that occupied his mind as his attention never left the chestnut hair that would once fall around his face like a curtain creating their own intimate bubble, the creamy white shoulders that were once snuggled up against him, protected in his arms as they forget the universe in bed.

In the five years since she left his side on New Year's Day because he put in the final nail to his own coffin by emphasizing that his priority wasn't dating but to build his empire. All he cared about was the money.

It wasn't that he didn't care about her, it was just that they wanted different things at the time. He was focused on proving his parents wrong, and she already had her life established. She had told him how he felt, repeatedly, but even though he didn't turn her down each time, she could still feel the sting of rejection because they had never moved forward together.

He could've used his words to communicate and tell her that he'd actually wanted her there for the night as he got his thoughts in-line, but as he had never given her any indication that he wanted her more than a business partner, she felt like she had overstayed her welcome and was invading his privacy.

When he made no move to contact her the next day, frankly because he didn't know how and he was distracted by a lot of things, settling things right with her just didn't make it to the top of his priority list. He was comforted by the thought that she was going to be his investor, which still tied them together in a way.

Albeit, a professional way.

…

Once he was isolated with his parents in his father's study with Anastasia entertaining his siblings in the great room, no doubt being interrogated about her career as a teenage girl in the limelight.

He knew for a fact that Mia would be enjoying the stories more than she ever did her bedtime ones, and he would bet his entire new quarter of a million that Elliot would be asking all the inappropriate questions he could think of, including if she had any friends she could hook him up with or simply introduce to.

"Christian, what is so urgent that you have to tell us on New Year's Eve?" Grace inquired gently, an air of worry and concern that every loving mother would have when their children behave oddly.

"I need to tell you something, and you have to promise me that you won't tell anyone else. I'm not sure I want Elliot and Mia to know either."

Carrick frowned, his hand was already itching to reach for the stash stored at the top of the cabinet despite already having a glass of wine in his other.

As he relayed his physical experience with Elena, and then how he and Ana had a perfectly normal sexual relationship, only to return home to continue in the lifestyle that Elena had introduced him to, he observed his parents' expression closely. He had done his research, and he knew that Elena wasn't the best Domme to seek advice from, but he needed to keep her unsuspicious about his discovery in vanilla sex, so he convinced himself that she could be his starting point to where he built his foundation.

Meanwhile, in the great room, after Anastasia deflected the siblings queries as to what their brother could possibly be talking about with their parents given the grim face he was sporting when he walked in—with quite some difficulty—she complied and launched into how she landed her first role in a sitcom. Then proceeded to give them a rundown of her career, going into a bit more detail than what they could find online.

Guess that was the scoop that everyone paid big money for.

"I've always wanted to ask since he brought home that stack of autographs from you," Mia scooted forward to the edge of the couch, and Elliot did the same on the other side of Ana, automatically forcing her to shrink back against the backrest. She was now officially stuck in between the Grey siblings. "Are you dating my brother?"

"No," she shook her head, and if one looked carefully, they could detect a longing in her orbs that she hadn't even tried to hide.

"Wait, so what were you?" Elliot pried, ever the nosy gossip just like his sister in spite of his age.

"Friends with benefits. No strings attached. Whatever you call those relationships." She shrugged with her palms out and facing up. "We're trying to keep it a secret. We didn't even let any other people know that we know each other, much less friends."

"Why the mysteriousness?" That was Mia, not missing a beat to keep the story flowing.

"Are you both really private people? I know my brother can be the sneaking around type, but I can't imagine him ever passing up the chance to show you off to the world; he's vain like that." Elliot added, not missing a beat to take a jab at his younger brother.

"As a person who exposes parts of her to the world for a living, I think I'm entitled to a little vanity, so I'm not going to lie and say that I don't like the publicity. I just don't like to get hounded by unrelated people."

"Paparazzis can be cruel," Elliot agreed.

"They are! Oh my god, they're brutal, I've seen it before!" Mia exclaimed, already sidetracking them, but Anastasia didn't want to talk about those parasites.

"I didn't want the whole hassle of risking to reveal my location, if that was exposed and people know that I'm in Harvard, I'd be in constant life threatening danger."

"So, that was your idea, then?" Mia lowered her chin waiting for her confirmation.

"Yes, it was initially my idea, but then Christian agreed to it because he didn't want people to speculate and ask questions because it wasn't their business anyway. He just wants to keep it simple."

"You're fine with it? Not defining your relationship?" Elliot frowned, taking the words right out of Mia's mouth.

It wasn't a subject that she wanted to talk about with Christian's siblings but in an effort to distract them from asking questions about Elena, she had to be vague and make stuff up on the spot just to keep them talking.

"Well, yes, we're not on the same page anyway. So, it is what it is…" she was going to keep spewing inaccurate facts at the Grey siblings but the door to Carrick's office was thrown open.

All the eyes turned in the direction, and they could hear the weeping from Grace, the yelling from Carrick, and the exasperated pleas from Christian before they could see any of them.

Anastasia cringed internally. The moment they all came into view, Christian reached for her as his parents head straight to the strong shit at the bar. She was tucked under his chin and her body tightly wrapped up in his muscular arms before she could even ask how it went.

"What's going on?" Elliot and Mia asked at the same time, picking up the somber mood in the house and the tears that just couldn't stop rolling down Grace's face.

"How could you be so damn stupid? You went back to her after everything she did to you?" Carrick bellowed after downing two gulps straight from the glass, emptying it in one go.

"I'm so sorry, Christian." Then there was Grace, who couldn't stop apologizing. "I knew I should've done something but I just never questioned it because I was so relieved that the problems were solved. I shouldn't have gotten lazy and let it slide."

"I'm heading upstairs." Christian announced, pulling Anastasia along with him without acknowledging the folks or addressing the dumbfounded siblings.

"We're not done talking here, Christian Grey!" Carrick yelled.

"Stop yelling at me!" Christian screamed, taking a step in his face, towering over him and breathing down his neck. If it wasn't for Anastasia's gentle tug on his hand, he would've taken all of his frustrations and anger out on him right that second. "And please stop apologizing," he turned to his mother. "I'm not deaf, I heard you the first time."

"Why would you go back to her?" Carrick demanded, still not willing to let it go despite Christian's seething stance and the fact that he just lashed out at his parents.

"I was fifteen. Fifteen year olds don't know jack shit, all they care about is looking good and getting their dicks stroked. Surely, you've been there, done that. Fifteen year olds never worry about anything other than getting laid."

"That wasn't what I was referring to. You got out, met a lovely girl, but you jumped right back in the moment she waved a wad of cash in front of you. Is money and sex all you care about?"

"No, but it's certainly better than to try and win your parents' approval because they wouldn't support your dream."

"It was far fetched! You weren't ready. Case in point, look at where you are right now! You need the experience, and you need the knowledge. Thinking that you knew everything and that textbooks are useless and dumb is exactly what a naive fifteen year-old would think. They think they've got the ability to take on the world, but guess what? Truth hurts, and you just got slapped right across the face by the real world."

"You shot me down every time I brought it up. You said that my business plan was solid, was that a lie then? You didn't want me to drop out so you held my trust fund over my head, and threatened to take it away forcing me to find another way out. Did you not think that when you praised my idea, it would make me all the more confident and eager to prove it to you that I am capable of making it real?"

"Don't put the blame on me, Christian. You went to your abuser and a pedophile for backup. Of course she'd support you! She'd do anything to keep you under her thumb, and the same goes with the photos. Do you even hear yourself? Or are you so blinded by money that you're willing to just let her take advantage of you?"

"I didn't consent to the pictures."

"You couldn't even consent to the affair!" Carrick roared, slamming the empty glass back on to the dining room table.

Grace stood frozen on the side with her head hung low, and Anastasia debated if she should head over to offer a shoulder to cry on… but given how she had been friends with said pedophile, it would be a humiliating revelation to hear that not only had her son been the mistress in someone's marriage but he was also underage and molested.

"You gave her the ammunition to blackmail you."

"So you're saying that I brought this on myself, then?" He scoffed at his father with an exaggerated eye roll.

"She wouldn't have a thing to hold over you had you made better decisions."

"Are you not going to help me, then? Are you just going to kick me out?" Christian huffed angrily, but Anastasia could hear the vulnerability behind his voice.

Carrick shook his head, too emotional to come up with anything rational. He was already taking his anger out on his victimized son unnecessarily, and a brief sobering moment as he felt the effect of alcohol fuzzing his thoughts, he realized that he had already said too much.

"Please stay, Christian. We can talk about this tomorrow," Grace beseeched. "Ana, please?" Her eyes implored the couple more than her words did as they were barely audible over her heart wrenching cries.

Christian nodded when Anastasia convinced him with her eyes to head upstairs to calm down before he made any decisions.

"For the record, I didn't go back for the sex, I went back for the control." He turned around and spat out to Carrick before charging upstairs.

The sound of his door slamming into his door frame could be heard from all the way downstairs, loud enough to startle his siblings as they darted their eyes from their parents to their brother, debating which would be the ticking time-bomb that went off first.

…

He didn't know when Anastasia snuck out of the house but when he picked up his phone ready to call her knowing that her bodyguard was on the other coast, he saw a text from three in the morning informing him that she had safely made it back to her parents' house.

The next item he found was the Christmas card that she was going to mail over, and that only made him feel a fraction better until he heard a commotion from downstairs when he glanced at the clock and noticed that it was already noon.

He shot out of the bed, subsequently throwing the cover on to the floor revealing that he was still in the clothes from last night.

Snippets from last night flashed into his mind as he sat frozen as the cool air battered him more conscious. He had no recollection of how the night ended, not because he was inebriated but because he was in shock. He was in too much shock that his brain refused to remember any of it as a protecting mechanism.

He recalled being kissed as the clock struck twelve at midnight, but he couldn't remember if they had done anything more. He couldn't even remember the taste of her lips, he could only take pride in the fact that he didn't push her away in his shell-shocked state.

Grimacing at his behavior from last night, he rolled his eyes at himself. No wonder she fucking left, I didn't have to say the word to make her feel unwelcome. He thought to himself wryly.

"Grace, I can explain. It's not like that!"

That screech, it was one shriek that he would never wrongly distinguish no matter how much time passed; it would always ring a bell in his head. He would never forget it because it was the same that he had heard when he landed his cane on her seemingly full ass cheeks only to pop her silicon filling.

He rushed to the staircase so he could listen to the conversation better without revealing himself. He wasn't sure if his presence was wanted anyway because he knew what she was here for. She was here to see him, and under normal circumstances, his parents wouldn't do anything to stop her from approaching him.

Not today, though.

"Don't you even dare utter his name!" Carrick's voice boomed in the house, echoing as it bounced off of the walls, the soundproofing material did nothing to absorb the energy.

"He consented to it!" Elena argued, Christian was left to wonder how that woman still had the gut to stand her ground.

"He was fifteen. Not only was he legally not able to consent, but your act also falls under the act of pedophilia."

"He was sixteen," Elena corrected.

"Get the hell out of my house!" The clear noise of a palm connecting with flesh resonated in the sentimentally empty property.

"He owes me money!" Elena protested, but Christian could hear her attempt to cover up the amount of pain she was in, and he could only imagine what his mother was doing at the moment physically.

"I don't give a fuck what he allegedly owes you, cunt." Grace hissed through gritted teeth as her hands clenched into fists around her arm and grabbed the roots of her hair. "You owe him his life."

"We both know that it was hush money, and no one pays back hush money." Carrick's chuckle chilled him to the spine, he had never heard his father's voice so demeaning and mocking.

Christian had to chuckle at that, and he could only picture the panic that would be on Elena's face when she was told that she'd also be facing charges filed against her, and when that happened, the hundred grand that she supposedly stole from her husband would be the least of her worries.

His legs gave out as he found himself seated on the top step with his hands over his face and his back laid on the floor behind him. It was a burden lifted from his shoulder, and it felt good to have to worry about one less problem. He still found it surprising that his parents didn't demand his presence instead defended him against their ex-best friend.

Instead of the instant relief that he anticipated when the situation with Elena was finally diffused and he was no longer trying to hide or keep a secret from his family, he felt worse for putting them through the wringer.

He felt guilty for ever being the horny fool that he was and being seduced by fake tits and fake ass. He couldn't even look at his parents in the eyes anymore and not feel the pain that they were in, and it was caused by him. He didn't know if he would still be welcomed in the family or if they only invited him because they were just being nice.

It was time like this that he'd wish that Anastasia would be here, because she knew what was going on and still stood by his side. He groaned softly into his palms when he realized that he had just lost his one true friend; his best friend no less. He took their friendship for granted thinking that it came naturally, and he certainly took advantage of her feelings for him when he called her out of the blue making her drop everything to fly over last minute, disrupting all her plans and ruining her holiday.

He couldn't face anybody, and if he had to see her one more time, he'd hide behind his business façade just so the guilt and the sorrow wouldn't eat him up.

…

"Man, I hate to break it to you, but you're not going to turn her head anymore, no matter how hard you stare or how longing you look."

"Fuck off, Timmy." Christian growled, using the nickname that Anastasia gave her brother just to provoke him, and he was always pissed off by it when he was young.

Timothy had been Mia's date to practically every event, and Christian had always speculated that there was something more going on between them albeit their constant denial and dismissal of the rumor. His family had met the boy when Anastasia brought him as her plus one to one of the mutual events, and he instantly hit it off with his little sister.

"I'm just saying it, you're trying too hard."

"What do you mean?"

"You want my sister."

"I had her."

Timothy rolled his eyes, deciding to disregard that comment knowing that there wasn't any malice behind his words.

"You would've gotten her attention had you started being a PR nightmare a couple of years ago. She stalked your every move until you paid her back, which by the way, she was still unhappy about how quiet you were with your payment."

"What does that even mean? Was she expecting an announcement broadcast to the entire world that I'm going to reimburse my investor?"

"No, but she thought you'd want to meet with her and not drop money that she honestly didn't want back into her account."

Christian scowled, and shrugged as if he was nonchalant but he was still bothered by it.

"I like you, Christian," Timothy admitted. "I see you as my brother, and I've seen how attached my sister had been with you, so I'm going to offer to help you win her back because I'm hoping that a part of her still has some lingering feelings for you."

"Who's the boyfriend?"

"Weston Laurent. They met on set. He's half French and half American. They've been dating for over a year now. I think he's a rebound but she seems to be getting serious with him recently."

Christian groaned. He couldn't believe that he was unhappy and grumpy at his own Christmas party because he couldn't bear the thought of some girl he let slip through his fingers and be happy with someone else.

"Here's an advice whether you want it or not," Timothy dished out. "Give your PR a rest because she wouldn't have known that you're only doing this because you're jealous of her boyfriend. You only confirmed that you don't see her as a romantic partner when you snuck that money back into her account."

"What do you want me to do then? I don't have a reason to meet her anymore, and the only time I really see her is when my company is hosting an event. Even then, she only shows up if her presence was specifically requested, and she shows up with her boyfriend."

"Well, she's going to be at the White House for some corporate award presented by the president himself. I'm sure you can get yourself a spot there easily."

"The Ron Brown Award?" Christian's head perked up, that got his full attention. He knew that she couldn't bring this Weston guy to an event this formal, so that would be his chance.

The problem was, however, it was happening in the middle of the year, and by the looks of things with her boyfriend he wasn't sure if he could wait until the next year.

"Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and she's going to be spending the holiday with us. Her boyfriend is flying back to France."

Christian's eyes lit up at that small piece of information, and when he scanned the room full of people again, he felt like even the lights shone brighter than before as hope bloomed in his chest.

He hopped off the bar stool and sauntered toward the dance floor with purpose, heading straight toward the couple just as the next song played in the speaker. He was going to step in and ask her for a dance but his steps faltered as he watched them exit the floor for refreshments.

"Fuck!" He cursed under his breath as he listened to the lyrics of the song, thinking it couldn't be more accurate if it was dedicated to her.

I'm not tryna be your part time lover
Sign me up for that full time, I'm yours, all yours

"Oh, and before I forget…" Timothy appeared out of nowhere next to him, shoving a familiar looking card in his hand.

He had to admit that he felt just a tad bit better when he recognized the handwriting on the backside. It had slowly become a tradition for them to send each other Christmas cards ever since he reached out and sent her one of their goofy selfies from the plane ride the first Christmas after he was given a second chance.

In his hand this time, it was a card with a picture of her chewing on a fountain pen identical to the one she gave him that first Christmas, looking pensive but to him, she looked sensual and sexy as hell.

He studied the greeting card in his hand once more, and he smirked knowing exactly what he was going to send this year.

…

"Ana… I think we should take a break."

"Why? Have I done something?"

"No," he shook his head vehemently. "None of us has done anything wrong. I just think you're not ready to take the next step with me."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to freak you out, and I'm not dropping this bomb on you before I leave to burden you. I just want to make it clear that I want to ask for your hand in marriage when I come back from visiting my family, but I don't think you're ready for it."

"What makes you think that?"

"For one, I still think you have feelings for Christian."

"I… don't."

"It's okay, don't stress. I'm only saying this because I don't want you to make a rash decision only to regret it later. When you say that you love me, I believe you. I just don't think you'll love me as fiercely as you did him."

"What do you mean?"

"You made it a point to not look at him and to avoid him all night long, Ana. We both felt his stare, and we both know that he wants to dance with you at his Christmas dinner party. I noticed the stolen glances between the two of you, it was heated even from across the room. You can't deny the connection."

"But I didn't."

"I wouldn't have minded if you did, Ana. It's not easy to find someone who clicks with you. I think you're the one for me, but maybe I'm also wrong. I just want to give you a heads up, to tell you that I'm ready to commit and if you are, then we can bring our relationship to the next level, but if not, we can go our separate ways amicably."

"This is you breaking up with me."

"I'm not dumping you."

"Semantics," Anastasia bit back harsher than she intended.

He grabbed her shoulders, shaking her gently making her look at him.

"Job wise, we can be professional. You and I both know that because we've managed to hide our relationship from the entire crew until the filming is finished, so we know that the promotional interviews and tours won't be an issue in the future. Personally, I really want us to last forever, but I don't want to pressure you."

"You're not…" she mumbled.

"Go find that man, and if I'm being paranoid, then it would still be nice if you sought closure from him. Ending that personal relationship once and for all by making your stance clear."

…

"Delivery for Anastasia Steele." Timothy hollered into the house amplifying the mailman, part of him pitying the poor guy that had to return to work the day after Christmas, it almost made him want to invite the guy in for a cup of coffee.

"Sign it for me!" Came the reply.

"You heard her," Timothy reached for the parcel and kicked the door shut with his heel as he examined the item which was just an envelope.

"Who's it from?" She made her way to the door hoping that it would be something from Weston, because she had thought about what he said and she realized that in the time that they dated she had never once thought of bringing him home. The one time she met his family was when they were shooting in Paris, and she couldn't come up with a legitimate excuse to avoid the meeting.

"Who do you think it's from?" Timothy retracted his hand the last minute, shielding the envelope from his sister.

"Uh… Weston?"

"What can he possibly send you?"

"Why do you hate him so much?"

"I don't hate him, Annie," Timothy sighed as if he was lecturing a small child. "I just don't think he suits you. You want extravagance, and big gestures."

"I don't believe in fairy tales."

"That has nothing to do with believing in princesses. You enjoy the limelight, but Weston is too tame and he shies away from publicity."

"Who's this from?" She gestured it with her chin, no longer interested in her delivery now that she knew it wasn't from her half-French boyfriend. Or technically… ex-boyfriend.

Yeah, she hated that word. Ex-boyfriend.

"I'll open it for you," he offered with a smug smile. "Since you don't seem like you care anyway since it's not from some guy sipping champagne in France, and dreaming about taking some reluctant girl up the Eiffel Tower to ring in the New Year."

"He took me there last year for the New Year!" She protested. "I wasn't reluctant."

"Of course you weren't, you were there for your job."

Rolling her eyes, Anastasia turned on her heels to head upstairs.

"They're plane tickets!" Timothy called as her foot reached the top of the steps. "To New York. First class."

"You never told me where they're from." She yelled back.

"There's no name, but there's a handwritten note."

"Show me." She was down on the base of the stairs before he could even look up from his hands. Snatching the tickets from his hand without warning, nearly ripping the paper, she squinted at the print. "There's no note."

Timothy gave her a sideways glance, pursing his lips as he held the card in between his index and middle finger as if it was a joint.

"Oh," she looked up and saw the card he was silently offering her. "Right, of course."

Rolling his eyes, Timothy took the plane tickets back from her and started reading through the booking detail himself.

Merry Christmas, Anastasia. You looked radiant in that dress.
I'm hoping I can say Happy New Year to you in person?

"Oh god…" she gnawed at her fingernails as she read and reread the two lines. Flipping the card over, she felt her body tense up as she froze at the picture.

He was fully dressed, in a tailored tuxedo that she thought looked like the one he wore to his own Christmas dinner a few nights ago. In his right hand was a single stemmed purple rose, the tip of his nose touching the petal with his eyes gazing into the camera through his lashes. It reminded her of the card she left on his nightstand the New Year she left.

She hadn't been thinking about him in an intimate setting in over three years, and this wasn't the first time he had sent her a festive greeting over mail, but it was the first time in five years that he had sent her a provocative card since that very first one of him half naked.

It had always been a selfie of them, and they were all innocent with them either goofing around or posing for an actual photo, but they were all dressed in the casual clothes that they had on at the time. She did the same with the collection in her phone, and or it would be from one of the rejected pictures that she personally liked from her photoshoots.

"Did you tell him that Weston and I broke up?" She gradually raised her chin, the card held perpendicular to the ground in her hand as she waited for her brother to confess.

It wasn't a secret that the two men got close over the years, however she had no idea what they talked about or what part of her life was her brother sharing with him. She didn't mind it because she trusted that Christian wouldn't be running his mouth to the media about her just like she wouldn't go to the media about him either.

She guessed she had grown to accept her fate that he'd never reciprocate her feelings, so she suppressed them.

"No," Timothy shook his head and stared at his sister as if she had grown two heads. "I would never tell him about your private life."

"Has he ever asked?"

"I told him the name of your boyfriend, but I'm sure he already knows everything about him."

"So he also stalks…" she pouted to herself. If Luke was here, he'd definitely be howling on the ground holding his beer—maybe eggnog—packed stomach with laughter.

She was rudely woken up by her brother barging into her room and jumping onto her bed before snuggling under her cover without taking his clothes off the next morning. He then launched into how he accidentally tossed the envelope last night and it ended up underneath the couch and their dutiful robot vacuum cleaner shoved it around like a shopping cart this morning as it snorkeled around the house.

"You told Mom? Why would you?" She shrieked. "And now she's going to come up here and try to convince me to go because it's not nice to stand him up… blah blah blah…" she yapped with hand gestures and an eye roll.

"Yep, which is why I'm here to give you a heads up."

She groaned, and buried her head in the crook of her arm next to her textbooks.

"Annie…" the moment her Mom's voice came through the door from the hallway, Timothy patted her on the back and left.

…

"Mom, I'm not going!" Anastasia yelled for the last time, her mother had been hounding her since she accidentally found that insignificant container for two plane tickets, and today was the 31st.

"Why wouldn't you? Do you not like him anymore? He was a good kid, and from what your Dad and I saw a week ago, he's now an accomplished man who earns some pretty pennies."

"Mom…" she groused but it was no use, and even her father couldn't help but laugh at her expense along with her brother who didn't even bother holding his laughter back.

"You lent him the money, you had a hand in his success, so why don't you just give him a chance."

"I just broke up with Weston, Mom. I'm not going to jump into another relationship with a man I was in business with."

"Weston is too tame, Annie. You should know by now that you need a strong man to spend your life with."

"Why does everyone keep calling Weston tame? Have you seen him? He's bigger than Timmy here."

"I meant psychologically…"

"Oh, so you want me to date a psycho then?"

"Annie… let your mother finish," her father interrupted, only barely containing his chuckle in his poker face.

"Weston is still a boy, Annie. Christian is a man, he's always been more masculine, and more confident."

"Weston's confident."

"Weston looks buff but he's an indecisive softie at heart."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because if he would've brought you to Paris, or at the least, invited you over to have a formal meal with his family. He doesn't seem like he can decide if he's going to take you and your relationship seriously."

"Mom, I didn't want to go because I didn't want to commit."

"Well, he could've done better to persuade you."

Anastasia rolled her eyes, she didn't know if this was her Mom hoaxing her into admitting that she still had feelings for her college almost-sweetheart or just trying to make her ex look bad, but she knew that she was done.

The doorbell rang just in time to interrupt her mother from launching into another speech. Before anyone could question the bell, she disappeared to get the door; this was the first time that she was eager to answer the door.

"Luke?"

"Pack your bags, we're leaving."

"To where?" One look at her bodyguard, and she knew exactly what had happened.

…

"Welcome back to New York, Anastasia."

"I can't believe you tricked my security."

"Technically, I didn't. My security did." That smug smile just couldn't be wiped off of his face even with the most effective disinfectant. "Taylor was actually recommended by Sawyer."

She rolled her eyes but her comment was forced back when they were told that they had to get in position.

Anastasia bounced on the ball of her heels as she laid her hand on top of Christian's, joined by the New York Mayor as they pushed the miniature ball down its pole, "activating" the countdown on live TV. Her eyes then darted to the big screen broadcasting the live footage of Time Square.

Christian draped the thick coat over her dress, zipping her up and took her hand before she could even say what?

They made their way out of the building just in time to join in on the countdown. She beamed at the huge screen mesmerized by the ball as it gradually descended toward the bottom, a shiver went through her body. She had witnessed this magnificent moment in person so many times as well as on TV, watching the Ball Drop was a tradition she would never allow anyone to disrupt, but this year, she felt like the first time standing in the crowd just taking in the scenery.

Overwhelmed by the emotion that she didn't know she felt, she leaned her whole body into his embrace, and breathed in the unique scent that could only be found on Christian Grey added with the crisp snowy air in New York City. She didn't know why she thought she could survive with Weston, because he would never agree to a public outing like this as if they were just an average couple.

Soft, freezing cold lips touched hers as cheers erupted around them, louder than ever before. Her lips were numb and her legs were shivering but it was the breathlessness that finally pulled her away from him.

"Don't cry," he whispered, brushing away a stray tear that she didn't know had formed with his gloved finger.

She simpered, her eyes twinkled under the bright lights coming from the billboards, but they grew especially wide when she saw her staring herself in one of them. Just to prove that it was an actual live footage, she pulled his head down to her lips once more, and the crowd erupted with cheers once more.

"Happy New Year from the Big Apple."

…

"Spread your legs wider, Anastasia."

"Are you going to blind fold me?"

He smiled gently and shook his head slowly. That thought had occurred in his mind, but he dismissed that quickly. He missed the vanilla with her, and he wanted to spend the night worshipping her body.

"Can I flog you?"

She nodded shyly, consenting to it only because she had been doing her own research and had experienced it with a professional Domme. She liked the feeling of heightening her sensitivity as the blood was brought to the surface of her skin after a flogging session. It felt nice, relaxing, and soothing.

"That would be nice."

She was suddenly a little shy, not bashful about her naked body on full display in front of him but a little coy about what she wanted him to do to her. He had been training, and she wanted to see the fruition of his practice.

"That's good to know," he responded with his own timid smile standing over her in his birthday suit, the toy discarded next to them within their reach. "Before we do that," he reached over to the nightstand and pulled out the top drawer.

His hand hit the button on his phone on the way and a specially chosen song flowed into the room, filling it with its upbeat tempo.

His midsection was align with her face, and she closed her eyes to breathe in his scent. Even his dick smelled like heaven to her. She opened her mouth and touched him with the tip of her tongue, then wrapped her lips around his shaft before lifting a hand to stroke his balls.

"Ana…" he warned lightly, but she could feel his body deflate and relax a little under her touch. He remained in his position even after he'd retrieved what he needed from the drawer just to enjoy the sensation her talented mouth created.

I'm not afraid to look insane
'Cause I'm crazy about you

"You were saying?" She asked with a mouthful, coating his entire member with her saliva, and he knew he needed to get the session started because at the rate of her teasing, he would be coming in her mouth.

"I need you to sign this."

"What's this?" She flipped over to her front and felt him settle himself on top of her, his body cocooning hers from the cool air despite the heater. She could feel his hard rod poking at her ass, making it incredibly hard to concentrate.

"Just read it," he told her, moving her hair to the other side so he could look over her shoulder.

"A contract?" She surmised from the first few lines.

"Smart," he praised, earning a smack on the head.

As she flipped to the last page, there was a small paper clip attaching an ordinary looking card.

"For 25% of GEH," she swallowed and he nodded against her shoulder. "You know I didn't ask for it right? And I hope that I've never given you the impression that this is what I want."

"No," he shook his head. "I just want one more thing to tie you to me." And it was supposed to be a legitimate reason for him to meet with her, but his Christmas card worked…

There's nothing that I won't do
Just to make you love me, love me, love me
Throw away my pride for you
Just to make you love me, want me, trust me
Baby, I know I'm not ashamed
Just need you and I could care less
If everyone knows that I'm your fool
Girl there's nothing I won't do
Just to make you love me, love me, love me

Staring at the card in her hand with a picture of him holding the logo for his company in the palm of his hand as if he was presenting it to her with the most bashful smile she'd ever seen on his face. Turning it over, it read

I make billions every year, I think I can spare a quarter of it for a lifelong investment.

Fin.

EL James's teaser of Freed's first chapter released on her website affected my portrayal of Carrick Grey.

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Outtake on sapphiretrafficker dot wordpress dot com if you haven't read it already.

Have a great one in 2021, everyone! Best wishes to y'all.

Laters, baby x

—Saph T