Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own FSOG.

A huge thank you for all faves, follows, and reviews. I am extremely thankful. I didn't think anyone would click to read this story given that the plot isn't common on here. So, thank you all very much :)

Quick thing, this takes place the same day the previous chapter left off (Friday) but later in the day. As for the texting, Christian is bold, Ana is bold and italicised.

EDIT! Warning: Explicit Pedophilia at the end of the chapter. Before mention of it, there will be a *Warning* Sorry to those who have read the chapter without the warning :(

CPOV

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

My focus shifts from scanning through documents of Seattle Independent Publishing—which contain information regarding everything to know about SIP and its potential—to my propped ringing cellphone. My hopes of it being my sunshine are dashed upon reading Mia's name. I slump in my seat in exasperation. Not that I don't love talking to my sister, but since she found out about Ana she's been calling, texting, emailing, and Skyping me whining about wanting to see my girlfriend.

I am glad to have made my sister so happy with my relationship. However, it is still new, and I am quite aware my sister and mother are crazy. When Elliot brings a new flame over, which happens nearly every family dinner every two weeks since he was in high school, the Grey women faun over all the girls. One would think after bringing in an ocean of women, they would realize their attention towards each one doesn't matter as Elliot never brings them over again. Now given this, I shudder to visualize how my family will ambush Ana, the first girl I'd have ever brought home.

Reluctantly, I grab my phone and answer my sister's call. Immediately, I am deafened by her overly loud voice.

"You promised me I would be the very first one who gets to meet your girlfriend! I wouldn't tell our mom, and I would meet her before everyone else! You went back on your promise!"

"What are you talking about, Mia?" I pinch the bridge of my nose and inhale deeply.

"Elliot told me he met Anastasia already!" Mia's voice goes into my head and pulses in there. Not even a minute and she was giving me a headache already. "I thought was your favorite. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is for Elliot to tell me he met her first after I bragged how I knew you had a girlfriend—your first girlfriend ever—and I was going to meet her before anyone else because you loved me most? God, Christian. You're such a traitor. How could you do that to me? Elliot laughed at me. You know he's never going to let me live it down."

As Mia prattles on, I rack my brain. When did Elliot meet Ana? After a moment of trying to remember and Mia calling me a traitor repeatedly, it hits me. "Mia! Be quiet and let me talk." She huffs but does as I say. "I didn't arrange for them to meet. It was in the morning, and I was sleeping when Elliot came over. Anastasia had a family emergency and they bumped into each other in the elevator on her way out."

"Oh," Mia mutters, sounding like the brat she was. Watch it, Grey, you enable her to act like that. "Well, why did you say I would be the first if you knew I wasn't. That is on you."

I growl, frustrated with her. I rein in my anger to the best of my abilities, and say, as calmly as I can, "Mia, it was the middle of the fucking night. You wouldn't get off the phone, and Ana was trying to sleep. Elliot meeting her escaped my memory after being woken up by you."

"Oh," Mia utters, sounding chastised. "Was she angry with me?" Surprised, I ask for clarification, and she rephrases, "Anastasia. Was she mad at me when I woke you two up? I swear I didn't know she was there. I wouldn't have called if I knew you had company. I was just ecstatic that my lonely big brother finally found someone. I'm sorry."

Sighing, I run my fingers through my hair. My sister may be a spoiled entitled princess, but she has her moments when I'm reminded how generally sweet she was. That is the sister that prevents me from cutting her off. "Apology accepted. And don't concern yourself. Anastasia was mostly amused with you. She's looking forward to meeting you."

"Really? Do you think we'll be best friends? Are you going to marry her? I want someone to call my sister. Elliot isn't going to give me one, so you're my best bet."

Had I been eating, I would have choked. I clear my throat noisily. "Calm it, Mia. The relationship isn't there yet."

"What? I'm just saying, hypothetically. If you and your girlfriend hit it off great and you two fall in love and get married, it would benefit me, too."

Okay. I need to shut her up. She's bringing up things I don't want to think about. "Alright, Mia. I'm hanging up. I have to work to be able to pay for your shopping."

"Okay. Love you, big brother. Oh no, wait!" I pause before my thumb hits the end button. "Mom wants to have a family dinner on Saturday, tomorrow. Grandma and Grandpa Trevelyan are coming over."

I smile, then frown slightly. I haven't seen them since the end of June. "I would love to see them, but I'm taking Ana to Montesano tomorrow. She's visiting her father's grave, and then we are going to have a picnic at the park."

Mia laughs. "A picnic? At a park? How fun," she guffaws.

Offended, I snap, "It's the anniversary of her father's death. Have a heart, Mia. If Ana wants to do something that she and her deceased father used to do when she was little, I am not going to refuse her."

Mia is quiet. What a miracle. "I'm sorry. You're right. That was mean of me. I was only laughing because I was picturing you, Mr.-suit-and-tie, sitting on the grass and staining your butt green."

"You're forgiven, Mia, but next time think before you say something."

"I will," Mia says earnestly, and I believe her. "So, when did her dad die? How? I couldn't imagine not having ours anymore."

"He was murdered when she was seventeen. A mugging went wrong." Not that Ana's told me this. It's in her background report.

"How sad. Did they catch the person responsible?"

Again, not from her, but I did have Welch dig. "Yes." I do not mention that it was a high school dropout who was drunk, armed with a pocket knife, and looking for extra cash to buy more alcohol. I also do not mention that he claims his innocence to this day, five years later, to anyone who'll listen.

"It's very nice of you for going with her. Does she have other family going?"

I resist the urge to throw something. "Her mother isn't in the picture, but her father's business partner is going." Which I am completely against. I don't want Ana anywhere near this guy, but Ana claims to have talked with him about the incident the other night.

"Well, that's great. Give her my condolences. I'll let the fam-bam know. Can I please tell them about her? They'll understand your absence if I do."

"Yes, that's fine. Thank you, Mia. Love you. Good-bye."

"Love you, too."

After placing my phone back on its stand, I stand and walk to the floor to ceiling window. It feels good to stand after sitting for so damn long. I admire the view for a few moments.

Since last Saturday, when Ana and I agreed to try, we've had lunch every day at the same little deli from when we reconnected, except today. I had a lunch meeting I couldn't reschedule. We will still see each other later tonight as we are going to the movies to watch some horror movie she's been waiting to see. Then, she's spending the night at my place. In the early morning, I'm driving us to Montesano. We plan to spend the day there.

It seems so long ago since we fucked after meeting at a club, but it hasn't even been a month. Yet, in this short time, we've fucked more times we've had dates, and I have my first official girlfriend. I can't comprehend how the fast pace of our relationship feels so. . . right. However, I'm committed to seeing this through. I have also considered inviting her to my playroom. On Saturday night, Ana wore her sexy-as-sin black heels along with a transparent black teddy and matching panties. She let me spank her, and we fucked till morning. Maybe a slow introduction. Frog-in-boiling-pot situation.

A knock on my closed door breaks me away from my reminiscing. God, her ass was a lovely shade of red from my hand.

"Enter." I stay standing before the window, looking at nothing in particular as I will down my half-hard cock. One of these days, I need to talk to Ana about having lunch in my office. I'd love to fuck her on my desk, couch, and up against this window.

"Mr. Grey, Ms. Anastasia Steele had this delivered to the front desk just about ten minutes ago." I turn to find Andrea by my desk, having just set a large, thick manila envelope on my desk. When I'd given my personal and office number to Ana, I'd instructed my staff that I be directly notified in the case she tried to reach me. I never considered it for mail.

I walk to my desk, eyeing the envelope. "Delivered?"

Andrea clasps her hands in front her, her face displaying her uncertainty. "Upon your orders, Sir, all of Ms. Steele's modes of communication must be immediately alerted. Shall I arrange for inspection per the normal procedure of unexpected drop-ins?"

"That's alright, Andrea. Thank you. That'll be all."

"Mr. Grey." I eye up the envelope as she exits and closes the door behind her.

Leaning against my desk, I grab my phone and text Ana.

Too classy for electronics today, Sunshine?

Pardon?

Think of the trees, Ana. Anything you wrote could have been written in an email.

What are you talking about?

The mail you sent me. You are lucky I've already approved you in my company. Otherwise, it could have been weeks before I saw it.

I didn't send you anything, pumpkin. You are probably confusing me with another Anastasia.

I look at the envelope again, perplexed. If she didn't send this, why does it have her name on it as the sender? Curious, I take a picture and send it to her. Maybe she sent it a while ago and forgot about it.

I didn't send that Christian. I swear.

Her text comes in fast. So, who sent it? Knowing Taylor will have my ass for opening mail that hasn't been approved, I hesitantly pick up the envelope. A good shake of it reveals the sounds of papers rustling slightly. Curiosity killed the cat, I thought to myself, but satisfaction brought it back. I tear off the top in one fast motion and up-end it over my desk. The contents fan out.

*Warning*

My breath catches, my stomach turns, and my heart beats faster. Dozens on dozens of photos of my Ana. Naked. I spread the photos out to see more. It's just her, naked. Close-up shots of her face with telling white fluid dripping down her chin and watery eyes. Some photos place focus on her breasts. Those I find troubling as her breasts are clearly larger today, and I know they are real. They had to have been captured when she was younger and still developing; perhaps under the age of eighteen, I'd say. More disturbing shots of Ana with her legs spread, standing and posing with a bashful smile, and others with her bending over to touch her toes—her ass and sex exposed. Reluctantly, I rifle through all the photos, coming to the conclusion these photos were taken when she was a teenager.

Feeling like a pedophile, I look through the photos and wonder how anyone can possess such explicit photographs of a teenage girl. Regardless if they were taken by someone her age, why would they keep them? These photos could be considered child pornography. Fuck, could I be charged with possessing them? Concerned, yet I can't stop rifling through these fucking photos! What could have possibly convinced Ana to do this? Or perhaps I should say who? Ana appears very shy and hesitant. Another word could be awkward. Someone must have talked her into posing for these.

Just as I'm thinking of alerting Taylor, I come across the only photo in which she isn't the only person. Ana is very young, looking no more than fifteen. She's on her back with her legs spread wide and looking straight into the camera. The only clothing she's wearing is an angel's halo atop her head and white wings spreading out behind her on the mattress. But that all pales when considering the thick cock that is buried nearly completely inside her. Blood is smeared between her thighs and the base of the man's cock. The photo had to have been taken by the man, though his face is not shown. I know it's a man by the amount of muscle the body has, the many faded scars marking his pecs, forearms, abs, and thighs.

I turn the picture over, and there is a date and message written.

October 31, 2008. She was mine first.