Reviews from Chapter 5:
motherbeatrice: oh, but what will the true payment be?
daytonalay: rest assured, Ana has her heart guarded well. But then, so does our dear Fifty. Thank you for reading and all the continued support!
SaveraCG: Both the Bachelor party and wedding happened in June of 2008. It is currently May of 2011 in this story, making it a nearly three year time jump.
cwalk74: In this chapter we will see just a few of the multitudes of ways that Christian truly takes care of Ana. Perhaps Anas recurring mantra of "I am his," is her more. As we will learn, Leila is capable of many things.
Song: I Know You by Skylar Grey
P.R.E.T.T.Y.B.I.G.L.I.E.S
Soft lips brush across my temple, leaving ever so sweet and tender kisses in their wake. The playful submissive within wants to respond to my Doms sweet caress, but mostly I want to stay sleeping. To prove my point, I moan and burrow into my nest of blankets.
"Little one, it's time to wake up." Christian's voice is soft as his lips brush up against the curve of my ear.
"No," I moan.
"We have to leave in about half an hour for dinner."
His tone shows amusement so I open my eyes ever so reluctantly to find that it's dusk. Christian is leaning over me, gazing down at me intently with eyes of mercury.
"Come on, sleepyhead. It's time to get up." He stoops down and kisses the very tip of my nose. "I've brought you your favorite drink. I'll be in the living room waiting. Don't go back to sleep, or you'll be in trouble Little One," he threatens mildly. He kisses me briefly and exits, leaving me blinking sleep from my eyes in the somber room.
As I stretch out my body I find that I'm feeling refreshed after my nap—but still incredibly nervous for dinner.
The man has just spent the better part of the afternoon working me over with a riding crop and trussing me up with a cable tie that I sold him—and to think that I have face not only his parents and Mia, but Leila too. Then of course, there's Kate and Elliot.
It's going to be the first time Christian and I face him after the other morning—at least he'll be there for support.
Christian's demands for a trainer don't seem so outlandish as I roll my stiff shoulders. In fact, it's mandatory if I have any hope of keeping up with him. It's almost ironic if you think about the fact that Leila offered to be "gym buddies" once I moved to Seattle.
Perhaps I'll take Leila up on her previous offer of weekly yoga and spin-cycle classes, I smirk in satisfaction at the thought.
That way I can get bonus points with the family for spending time with my dear older sister and then I can sleep with her husband in my spare time. It's like a two-for-one special.
I slowly climb out of bed and note that my dress is hanging on the outside of the closet door and while my bra is laying draped across the chair my panties are mysteriously missing.
I check beneath the chair only to find nothing. Then I remember—he stashed them away in the pocket of his jeans. Bastard. It's a game we've played before, but usually in small settings. Never something as outlandish as a family dinner.
I steal into the bathroom, feeling only slightly bewildered by my lack of panties for the evening.
While drying myself after my enjoyable but far too brief shower, I realize he's done this on purpose. He wants to embarrass me and force me to ask for my panties back, and he'll either say yes or no. Two can play that game.I won't give him the satisfaction of asking for them back. It's a game we've played and while the situation is new, I'm willing to go and face our family dinner sans panties. The submission aspect will drive him crazy.
Once back in the bedroom, I stare at my outfit in disdain. Yes, I had chosen a dress that Christian loved—but it wasn't mine. Once I got a secure job, a shopping trip would be in order.
Although I would be comfortable sans bra, I choose to put it on. Not wearing it would only drive Christian crazy once he discovered it wasn't on. Plus the added risk of not wearing it in front of the Greys . . . I shudder at the thought of what that could provoke.
After slipping into my dress and shoes, I take a long sip of the pale pink concoction that Christians left for me to drink. The mix of cranberry juice and sparkling water tastes delicious and quenches my thirst after the long, vigorous afternoon.
Next, I remove the braid from my hair and simply choose to run my fingers through the thick waves, rather than brushing it out to wreak havoc.
Returning to the bathroom, I look in the mirror to find that my cheeks are slightly flushed and my normally pale blue eyes are a stunning steel blue. Feeling slightly smug over the idea of seeing Leila, I head towards the living room with fifteen minutes to spare.
Christian stands before the panoramic window, wearing the gray flannel pants that I love—the ones that hang perfectly off of his hips—and of course, a white linen shirt. The man never ventures past his favorites: black, white, and gray.
Frank Sinatra sings softly throughout the room and as if on cue Christian turns and smiles as I enter. He looks at me expectantly and under his heated stare, I feel my already flushed cheeks turn crimson.
"Hi," I say softly, and my minx-like smile meets his.
"Hi," he says. "How are you feeling?" His eyes are alight with amusement as he stares down at me.
"Good, thanks. You?"
"I feel mighty fine, Miss Steele."
He seems to be waiting patiently for me to say something so instead of giving him the gratification he so seeks, I plaster on my best smile and flutter my eyelashes.
"Frank. I never figured you for a Sinatra fan."
He raises his eyebrows at me, his look speculative.
"Eclectic taste, Miss Steele," he murmurs, and he paces toward me like a panther until he's standing in front of me. His slate gaze is so intense, that it steals my breath away.
Frank starts crooning . . . an old song, "Witchcraft," one of Ray's favorites. Christian leisurely traces his fingertips down my cheek, and I feel his electric touch all the way to the tips of my toes.
"Dance with me," he murmurs, his voice heavy with underlying lust.
Taking the remote out of his pocket, he turns up the volume and graciously holds his hand out to me. When I lift my eyes to meet his, I find his longing gray gaze full of promise and underlying humor. The man is completely beguiling, and I'm simply bewitched by him. I place my hand in his and he lazily grins down at me as he pulls me into his body, his arms curling around my waist in a warm embrace.
I put my free hand on his shoulder—in the one safe space I know—and grin up at him, caught up in his irresistibly, playful mood. He sways once, then we're dancing across the vast space. There is no denying that the man can move. We cover the floor, from the edge of the living room to the window and back again, spinning and whirling in time to the music. All the while, he makes it effortless for me to follow along.
We glide around the table, past the piano, over to the sitting area, and back past the living room before we glide backward and across the front by the glass wall, the Seattle sky twinkling outside and below, a dark and supernatural mural to our dance. I can't but laugh out loud at the situation which only calls for him to grin down at me as the song comes to a close.
"There's no nicer witch than you," he murmurs, then kisses me sweetly. "Well, that's brought a lovely rose blush to your cheeks, Little One. Thank you for the dance. Shall we go and face the wrath that is the Grey family?"
"You're welcome, and yes, I can hardly wait," I answer sassily.
"Do you have everything you need?"
"Oh yes," I respond sweetly.
"Are you sure?"
I nod as nonchalantly as I can manage under his intense scrutiny. At first, I worry that I've read the situation wrong. Does he not want me to want to play the game? I worry that by not asking for my panties, I've just asked for punishment. When his face splits into a huge grin and he shakes his head in delight, I see that all is okay. He's acknowledged my silent acceptance to his game—just as I understood his unspoken question.
"Okay. If that's the way you want to play it, Miss Steele then consider it game on."
He grabs my hand, collects his jacket of a nearby chair, and leads me to the elevator.
I peek up at him once we're in the elevator to find a trace of a smile gracing his lovely lips and basic instinct tells me that it's at my expense. Of course, the joke is on me. What was I thinking? I'm going to see his wife—my own sister—and I'm not wearing any underwear.
In the relative safe environment of our apartment, it seemed like a risky but amusing, idea. Now, I'm ready to panic.
He peers down at me with his eyes hooded, and it's there, the charge of electricity building between us. The amused look disappears from his face and his expression clouds and his eyes darken into a storm of pure, unadulterated lust.
The charge is broken the very moment the elevator doors open on the ground floor. Christian shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts and gestures for me to exit before him in a most gentlemanly manner.
I snort at the motion. Who's he kidding? He's no gentleman. The bastard has my panties!
Taylor sits waiting in one of the parking spots in the large Audi. Christian opens the rear door for me, and I climb inside as elegantly as I can so that I don't unintentionally give Taylor a show. I'm grateful that the plum dress clings to the skin at the top of my knees—and just about everywhere else.
Both of us stay quiet, no doubt inhibited by Taylor's consistent presence in the front. As we head up Interstate 5, Christian's mood seems to shift, the humor he's held throughout the day slowly dissipating. He's brooding, staring out the window like a petulant teenager, and I can practically feel him slipping away from my grasp. It's one of those moments that make me wish things could be normal. It makes me wish that he'd never met Leila. Or that that I'd never stepped in.
Realizing that I have to somehow break the tense silence, I wrack my brain for an idea.
What is he thinking? I can't outright ask him. No, I need something else . . .
"What about my car?" I ask tentatively. He turns to gaze at me, his gray eyes indecipherable beneath the intermittent glow of the passing street lamps.
"I had it taken back to your apartment." he replies softly.
My heart sinks, as I think about the chance of Leila seeing it and Kate wondering where I am.
"What if they ask why I'm with you?" I murmur reluctantly.
"Leila was out with Mia all afternoon, shopping. When I asked Elliot about keeping Kate busy he said that Mia had asked her to come along for the afternoon. She was to be dropped off at Elliot's when they finished. He's kept her preoccupied."
"Leila took Mia shopping?" I ask suspiciously.
"Actually, it was the other way around. I may have mentioned to Mia that Leila needed some shopping therapy. She's been . . . not Leila lately. I can't really explain it."
My scalp pickles and my stomach turns uneasily. Did she suspect he was having an affair? Did she suddenly miss the lifestyle she had thrown aside so she could convince Christian that what they had ran deeper than the playroom? Or was it something else?
She has such a fun, playful side until you cross her.
I grimace involuntarily as I recall the time she had caught her boyfriend ramming his tongue down my throat as he attempted to stick his hand down my pants.
I had been grateful when she had shown her face. But she hadn't believed a word I said. Instead she had risked my life with ash and ember.
Of course, as I think about the possibilities, I conclude that perhaps she just misses the time spent in the Red Room of Pain. I rub my wrists reflexively—thin strips of plastic will do that to a girl.
She shared all of that with him too—or tarnished it, depending on one's point of view. Or perhaps, that was all Mrs. Robinson's doing. Of course, it's possible he would have found his way there any way in spite of either of their actions.
I realize, in that moment, that I hate both of them with a burning passion. I can only hope that I'm never confronted about our affair because I will not be responsible for my actions if I am. I'll tell it all to his parents. Punishment be damned. I can't remember ever feeling this passionately about anyone, especially someone that I'm unfortunately related to by blood.
Gazing unseeing out the window, I nurse my irrational anger and jealousy towards Leila. I couldn't walk into the Grey's home sending death glared to my own flesh and blood.
Taking a deep breath, I let my mind drift back to the afternoon. Given what I understand of his past before me, I think he's been too easy on me. Would I do it again?I can't even pretend to put up an argument against that. Of course, I would, since he's asked me—as long as he didn't hurt me and if it's the only way to be with him.
That's the bottom line. I want to be with him. I want Christian Grey to be mine and mine only. Damn, Leila and her mere existence.
A part of me deep, deep down, believes that if Leila hadn't managed to trick him, we would have found our way into each other's lives.
"Don't," he murmurs.
I frown and turn to look at him.
"Don't what?" I ask, because this time the chastisement has come without touching him.
"Overthink things, Anastasia." Reaching out, he grasps my hand, draws it up to his lips, and kisses my knuckles gently. "I had a wonderful afternoon. Thank you, Little One."
And suddenly, we're back on the same plane again. I blink up at him and smile shyly as he heatedly meets my gaze. The man is confusing as he is intimidating but I can't help but ask a question that's been bugging me.
"Why did you use a cable tie?"
He grins at me.
"It's quick, it's easy, and it's something different for you to feel and experience. I know they're quite brutal, and I do like that in a restraining device." He smiles at me mildly. "Very effective at keeping you in your place. Besides, I thought it was about time I admitted to wanting you since before our beginning."
I flush and glance nervously at Taylor, who remains impassive, eyes on the road.
What am I even supposed to say to that?
Christian shrugs innocently as if he can read my inner thoughts.
"All part of my world, Anastasia." He squeezes my hand and let's go, staring out the window again.
His world, indeed, and I want to belong, but on his terms? I just don't know.
The beguiling man hasn't mentioned that damned contract and I have to wonder if he's having second thoughts after being found by Elliot. Of course, if that was the case, he never would have brought me to the apartment and spent the entire afternoon with me.
Right?
I stare out the window and find that the landscape around us has changed. We're crossing one of the bridges, surrounded by inky darkness. The somber night reflects my introspective mood, closing in on my soul as if I'm suffocating. The sudden pressure of what I'm about to face . . .
I glance briefly at Christian to see if he's at all worried and I find that he's staring at me with a furrowed brow of concern.
"Penny for your thoughts?" he asks.
I sigh and frown in response.
"That bad, huh?" he says.
"I wish I knew what you were thinking," I whisper.
His head tilts to the side as he smirks. "Ditto, baby," he says as Taylor whisks us into the night toward Bellevue.
P.R.E.T.T.Y.B.I.G.L.I.E.S
It is just before eight when the Audi turns into the driveway of the colonial-style mansion. Despite having seen it dozens upon dozens of times, it's breathtaking, even down to the roses around the door.
"Are you ready for this?" Christian asks as Taylor pulls up outside the impressive front door.
"I've never faced all of them like this before."
"It's mom and dad. They adore you. Now, are you ready for this?"
I hesitantly nod, and he gives my hand another reassuring squeeze.
"First for me, too," he whispers, then he smiles at me wickedly before he speaks his next teasing words. "Bet you wish you were wearing your panties right now."
I find myself flushing over the fact that I've forgotten about my missing panties through my worry about Leila. Fortunately, Taylor has climbed out of the car and is opening my door so he can't hear our exchange. I scowl at Christian, who broadly grins as I turn and climb out of the car.
The one and only Dr. Grace Trevelyan-Grey is on the doorstep waiting for us. She looks elegantly sophisticated in a pale blue silk dress tonight. Behind her stands Mr. Grey, tall, blond, and as handsome in his own way as Christian.
"Anastasia, you've met my mother, Grace. This is my dad, Carrick," Christian teases.
"Oh, stop!" I laugh as Carrick does.
"The pleasure is all mine, as always, Anastasia."
I find myself responding with ease, "Hello, Carrick."
His blue eyes are soft and gentle.
"Ana, how lovely to see you again." Grace wraps me in a warm hug. "Come in, my dear."
"Is she here?" I hear a screech from within the house and I glance nervously at Christian in response.
"That will be Mia, she's missed you," he says almost irritably, but not quite.
There's an undercurrent of affection in his words, the way his voice grows softer and his eyes crinkle as he mentions her name. Christian has always adored her. It's a sweet compromise to his usual cold behavior.
She comes barreling down the hall, raven haired, tall, and curvaceous just before she hugs me tight.
"Ana! I've missed you!"
I can't help but smile at her boundless enthusiasm.
"Mia, I've missed you too," I murmur as she drags me into the large vestibule. It's all dark wood floors and antique rugs with the sweeping staircase to the second floor.
"We were wondering when you'd get here. Did you drive together?" Mia asks, dark eyes bright with excitement.
I glimpse over to Christian rolling his eyes, and I raise an eyebrow at him. He narrows his eyes at me.
"Mia, calm down," Grace admonishes softly. "Hello, darling," she says as she kisses Christian on both cheeks. He smiles down at her warmly and then shakes hands with his father.
We all turn and head into the living room as Mia has not let go of my hand. The room is spacious as always, tastefully furnished in creams, browns, and pale blues—comfortable, understated, and very stylish. Kate and Elliot are cuddled together on a couch, clutching champagne flutes. Kate bounces up to embrace me, and Mia finally releases my hand.
"Hi, Ana!" She beams. "Christian." She nods curtly to him.
"Kate." He is as equally formal with her, even after three years.
I frown at their exchange until Elliot grasps me in an overly enthusiastic hug. What is this, Hug Ana Week?This dazzling display of affection—I'm just not used to it. Christian stands at my side, cautiously wrapping his arm around me. Placing his hand on my hip, he spreads out his fingers and pulls me close as he leans in.
"Remember, you can drink since you're not driving."
I nod as I notice Elliot is the only one staring at us. It's unnerving.
"Drinks?" Carrick asks. "Prosecco?"
"Please," Christian and I speak in unison.
Oh . . . this is beyond weird. Mia claps her hands.
"You're even saying the same things. And here Leila was worried you weren't going to get along with your assertive personalities. I'll go get her." She scoots out of the room.
I flush scarlet and seeing Kate sitting with Elliot, it occurs to me suddenly that there is only one reason Christian insisted on driving me here tonight.
Elliot knows the truth and he needs Elliot to think he's taking care of me—because if he isn't, Elliot would tell Kate that I deserve better. No one has ever suspected a thing all this time, but with Elliot probably freely and happily asking Kate to formally meet his parents, it means things are finally serious. And as Kate and I now reside in Seattle where they all live, he knows she's going to figure it all out sooner or later.
Christian is trapped—knowing that Elliot will eventually tell Kate.
I frown at the thought. He's been forced into the invitation. It's not so that I can drink. It's so that he can blatantly lie to his brother all the while keeping his mistress and his wife—happy. The realization is as bleak as it is depressing.
"Dinner's almost ready," Grace says as she follows Mia out of the room.
Christian frowns as he gazes at me.
"Sit," he commands, pointing to the plush couch, and I do as I'm told, carefully crossing my legs. He sits down beside me but is careful not to touch me.
"We were just talking about vacations, Ana," Mr. Grey says kindly. "Elliot has decided to follow Kate and her family to Barbados for a week."
I glance at Kate, and she grins, her eyes bright and wide. She's delighted, as she should be. She's only known this for two weeks, but it seems Elliot just told Grace and Carrick, today.
"Are you taking a break now that you've finished your degree?" Carrick asks.
"I'm thinking about visiting a few distant cousins in Texas for a few days," I reply.
Christian gapes at me, blinking a couple of times, his expression unreadable. Oh, shit. I haven't mentioned this to him.
"Texas?" he murmurs.
"My grandmother lives there, and I haven't seen her for a while."
"When were you thinking of going?" His voice is low.
"Possibly tomorrow, late evening."
Mia saunters back into the living room with Leila in tow and hands us champagne flutes filled with pale pink prosecco.
"To your good health and happy summer fun!" Carrick raises his glass. An appropriate toast from a doctor's husband, that makes me smile.
"For how long?" Christian asks, his voice deceptively soft as he glances at Leila.
Holy shit . . . he's angry.
"I don't know yet. It's going to depend on how my interviews go tomorrow."
His jaw clenches and Kate gets that interfering look on her face. She smiles at me in that over-sweet way that only a Kavanagh can.
"Ana deserves a break," she says pointedly at Christian. Why is she so antagonistic toward him? What is her problem?
"You have interviews?" Mr. Grey asks.
"Yes, for internships at two publishing houses, tomorrow."
"I wish you the best of luck, dear girl."
"Dinner is ready," Grace announces.
We all stand. Kate and Elliot follow Carrick and Mia out of the room. As Leila glances back and starts to leave the room, I go to follow, but Christian clutches my elbow, bringing me to an abrupt halt.
"When were you going to tell me you were leaving?" he asks urgently. His tone is soft, but he's masking his anger.
"I'm not leaving, I'm going to see my grandmother, and I was only thinking about it."
"What about our arrangement?"
"We don't have an arrangement yet."
He narrows his eyes and then seems to remember himself. Releasing my arm, he takes my elbow and leads me out of the room.
"This conversation is not over," he whispers threateningly as we enter the dining room.
"What arrangement?" Leila asks sweetly, grabbing onto Christian's other arm as she glares at me.
"Christian offered to let me intern at GEH. I told him I'd talk with Ros about it. Nothings set in stone yet."
"That was awfully sweet of you," Leila says unhappily, shooting Christian a sharp glare.
"She's your sister, I'm only doing what's right," he says pointedly, before ignoring her attempts at starting a fight.
The dining room reminds me of our private dinner at the Heathman. It was just the beginning of our contract negotiations, which seems like years ago, but is really only a few days—right before graduation. A crystal chandelier hangs over the dark wood table and there's a massive, ornately carved mirror on the wall. The table, covered with a crisp white linen tablecloth, is set, with a bowl of pale pink peonies as the centerpiece. It's stunning as always.
Carrick is at the head of the table, while I sit at his right hand, and Christian is seated beside me. Mr. Grey reaches for the opened bottle of red wine and offers some to Kate. Leila takes her seat beside Christian and, grabbing his hand, squeezes it tightly. Christian smiles at her stiffly. Grace sits across from me, and next to her sits, Kate, then Elliot, and finally Mia.
Leila turns to me then and smiles stiffly, "I stopped by your apartment, you weren't there. However, there was a new shiny red Audi parked out front. Who does that belong to?"
I pause, glancing at Christian and Kate frowns at the two of us.
"You didn't tell your own wife that you bought her sister an Audi for her graduation present?"
"That was awfully kind of you, son," Carrick says gently.
"You WHAT?" Leila bellows.
"She needed something that was up to par. That old Beetle was a death trap and Ray happened to agree with me. I purchased the Audi as a gift."
"A red Audi?" she asks incredulously.
Christian winces, realizing his mistake.
"It's what was on the lot. Should it matter that it's the same color I bought for you?" he adds, seeming fed up with the conversation.
"Wine, Ana?" Carrick asks.
"Please." I smile at him and he rises to fill the rest of the glasses.
I peek up at Christian, and he turns to look at me, his head cocked to one side.
"What?" he asks.
"Please don't be mad at me about Texas," I whisper.
"I'm not mad at you."
I stare at him incredulously and he sighs.
"Yes, I am mad at you." He closes his eyes briefly.
"Palm-twitchingly mad?" I ask nervously.
"What are you two whispering about?" Kate interjects.
I flush, and Christian glares at her in a butt-out-of-this-Kavanagh kind of way. Even bullheaded Kate wilts under his ashy stare.
"Just about my trip to Texas," I say sweetly, hoping to diffuse their mutual hostility.
Kate smiles, a wicked gleam in her eye.
"How was José when you went to the bar with him on Friday?"
Holy fuck, Kate. I widen my eyes at her and she widens her eyes back at me.
It's then I realize that despite Elliot not yet telling her—she knows something. She's purposely trying to make Christian jealous. How much she knows, is yet to be seen. I thought I had gotten away with it all, but I, of course, could never be that lucky. Christian was always bound to learn that José and I had gone out and had not stayed at the apartment. It was only a matter of time.
"He was fine," I murmur.
Christian leans over.
"Palm-twitchingly mad," he whispers. "Especially now." His tone is quiet and deadly.
I squirm under his intense start as Grace reappears carrying two plates, followed by the pretty young woman with blond pigtails, dressed in pale blue, carrying a tray of plates. Gretchen's eyes immediately find Christian's in the room. She blushes and gazes at him from under her long mascara-covered lashes as she does each time she sees him.
Somewhere in the house the phone starts ringing.
"Excuse me." Carrick rises again and exits.
"Thank you, Gretchen," Grace says gently, frowning as Mr. Grey exits. "Just leave the tray on the console." Gretchen nods, and with another furtive glance at Christian, she leaves just as Mr. Grey returns.
"Call for you, darling. It's the hospital," he says to Grace.
"Please start, everyone." Grace smiles as she hands me a plate and leaves.
It smells delicious—chorizo and scallops with roasted red peppers and shallots, sprinkled with flat-leaf parsley. And in spite of the fact that my stomach is churning from Christian's veiled threats, the surreptitious glances from pretty little Miss Pigtails, Leila's attitude, and the debacle of my missing underwear, I am starving. I flush as I realize it's the physical effort of this afternoon that's given me such an appetite.
Moments later Grace returns, her brow furrowed. Mr. Grey cocks his head to one side, much like Christian.
"Everything okay?"
"Another measles case." Grace sighs.
"Oh no."
"Yes, a child. The fourth case this month. If only people would get their kids vaccinated." She shakes her head sadly and then smiles. "I'm so glad our children never went through that. They never caught anything worse than chicken pox, thank goodness. Poor Elliot," she says as she sits down, smiling indulgently at her son. Elliot frowns mid-chew and squirms uncomfortably. "Christian and Mia were lucky. They got it so mildly, only a spot to share between them."
Mia giggles, and Christian rolls his eyes.
"So, how was José then, Ana?" Leila asks sweetly. "He's always had such a crush on you. You really should give the poor guy a chance."
Christian's utensils clamor on his plate as he turns and glares at her.
"A chance? You want her to give that fucker a chance?"
"Christian! Language!" Grace admonishes.
"Sorry, mother. No, she won't be giving him a chance. She's never going to be alone with that little shit again."
"What are you talking about?" Leila asks.
Christian lets out a deep breath before he continues.
"When I had a meeting with the board for WSU, Elliot came down and we went hiking. That evening, Kate and Ana were out celebrating after finals. Elliot decided to meet Kate and I tagged along. It's a good thing I did because I found Ana outside with the photographer's tongue rammed down her throat as she was attempting to push him off of her."
"Well it's about damn time," Leila says flippantly, "No one stays a virgin forever."
Carrick sputters as he takes a sip of his wine and Elliot grins.
"Oh, Leila. You really don't know your sister at all, do you?"
"Elliot!" Grace admonishes him.
"Banana is an adult, just like the rest of us. Besides, Christian is right. The photographer fucker has no boundaries. Ana was piss-drunk. They all were except for him. He would have taken advantage of her if Christian hadn't gone outside looking for her. The fucker would have left her there after she got sick, too. Instead of the worst possible thing happening, Christian took her back to the hotel."
"Why did you take her back with you?" Leila asks heatedly.
"I was with Elliot and he knew I wouldn't be able to watch Ana myself. He looked out for her. You should consider yourself lucky that he's willing to do such a thing. Not many people care that much about their family," Kate says defensively.
"That's the exact reason he gifted her the Audi. We all know Carla favors you over Ana. You've never had to work a day in your life, but Ana's worked her ass off. She deserves a gift and if Christian wants to give her something for achieving what should have been impossible, then he has every right to do so. Besides, she's your sister. You should want what's best for her."
Leila wisely keeps her mouth shut, knowing she's just pissed off Kate royally seeming as she's taken to defending Christian Grey of all people.
"And if you're so angry about that, I may as well tell you now that I paid off Anastasia's student loans in full."
My mouth drops open and the whole table becomes deathly quiet as I gape up at him.
"Y-You what?" I squeak.
"I discussed your student loans with Carla, and when she informed me that although she had paid for Leila's schooling, she had no intention of paying for yours, I was pissed off. So, I called the office in front of her and paid them in full. You're debt free, Miss Steele," he says smoothly.
Tears well up in my eyes as I stare at him and he leans over and affectionately kisses the top of my head.
"Christian-"
"Don't," he says sternly, "I can more than afford it, Anastasia."
"But, it's too much."
"She's right," Leila says stubbornly.
"She's family. I would do the same thing for Katherine if she was in that position and she's just your friend. Don't be cruel."
Wisely, Leila closes her mouth and for a moment no one says a word.
"So, did you catch the Mariners game, Dad?" Elliot's clearly keen to move the conversation on.
The hors d'oeuvres are delicious, and I concentrate on eating while Elliot, Carrick, and Christian talk baseball. Christian seems relaxed and calm talking to his family. My mind is working furiously. Damn Kate, what game is she playing? . . . What exactly is Leila's problem? . . . Will he punish me for my new list of transgressions? I shiver at the thought. I haven't signed that contract yet. Perhaps I won't. Perhaps I'll stay in Texas where he can't reach me.
"How are you settling into your new apartment, dear?" Grace asks politely.
I'm grateful for her question, distracting me from my discordant thoughts, and I tell her about our move.
As we finish our starters, Gretchen appears, and not for the first time, I wish I was able to put my hands freely on Christian just to let her know—he may be fifty shades of fucked up, but he's mine. She proceeds to clear the table, brushing rather too closely to Christian for my liking. Fortunately, he seems oblivious to her, but inwardly I want to strangle the girl.
Tuning back into the conversation, I find Kate and Mia are gushing about their adventures in Paris at different times.
"Have you been to Paris, Ana?" Mia asks innocently, distracting me from my jealous reverie.
"No, but I'd love to go." I know I'm the only one at the table who has never left the USA, despite Christian's offers each year for my birthday.
"We honeymooned in Paris." Grace smiles at Mr. Grey, who grins back at her.
It's almost embarrassing to witness. They love each other deeply, and for the first time, I wonder for a brief moment what it must be like to grow up with both one's parents in situ.
"It's a beautiful city," Mia agrees. "Oh! Christian, you and Leila should take Ana for her birthday," Mia states firmly.
"I think Anastasia would prefer London," Christian says softly.
Oh . . . he remembered. Ever so carefully, he places his hand on my knee—his fingers traveling up my thigh and my whole body tightens in response. Not here, not now.I shift, trying to pull away from him, but his hand clamps down on my thigh, stilling my attempts to get away. I desperately reach for my wine as if it will save me from his risqué touch beneath the dinner table.
Little Miss European Pigtails returns all coy glances and swaying hips, with our entrées: beef Wellington. Fortunately, she gives us our plates and then leaves, although she lingers handing Christian his. He looks quizzically at me as I watch her close the dining room door.
"So what was wrong with the Parisians?" Elliot asks his sister. "Didn't they take to your winsome ways?"
"Ugh, no they didn't. And Monsieur Floubert, the ogre I was working for, he was such a domineering tyrant."
This time it's my turn to sputter into my wine.
"Anastasia, are you okay?" Christian asks solicitously, taking his hand off my thigh.
Humor has returned to his voice. Maybe no punishment, then? When I nod, he pats my back gently and only removes his hand when he knows I've recovered.
The beef is delicious and served with roasted sweet potatoes, carrots, parsnips, and green beans. It is even more palatable since Christian manages to retain his good humor for the rest of the meal. I suspect that it's because I'm eating so heartily. The conversation flows freely among the Greys, warm and caring, gently teasing one another. Over our dessert of lemon syllabub, Mia regales us with her exploits in Paris, lapsing at one point into fluent French. We all stare at her, and she stares back puzzled until Christian tells her in equally fluent French what she's done, whereupon she bursts into a fit of giggles. Mia's laugh is as infectious as ever, and soon we're all in stitches.
Elliot holds forth about his latest building project, a new eco-friendly community to the north of Seattle. I glance up at Kate, and she's hanging on every word Elliot says, her eyes glowing with lust or love. I haven't quite worked out which yet, because frankly, Kate is like a giant jigsaw puzzle. He grins down at her, and it's as if an unspoken promise passes between them. Whatever it is that's lite between them, it causes me to flush with jealousy just by watching them.
I sigh and peek up at my favorite Fifty Shades. I could stare at his rugged beauty forever. He has light stubble over his chin, and my fingers itch to scratch it and feel it against my face, against my skin . . . between my thighs. I flush at the mere thought and then, just as suddenly, he's peering down at me. Right away, I notice the way he clenches his fist as he glances at my mouth.
Reluctantly, I pull my lip from between my teeth—unaware that it's what I've been doing for several long moments, but conscious of the fact that its likely driven Christian crazy.
Grace and Mia clear our dessert glasses and head to the kitchen, while Carrick, Kate, and Elliot discuss the merits of solar panels in Washington State, and Leila nurses what must be her sixth glass of wine. Christian, feigning interest in their conversation, puts his hand once more on my knee, and his fingers travel up my thigh. My breathing hitches and I press my thighs together in a bid to halt his progress.
I can see him smirk just as Elliot opens his mouth with a feign of innocence.
"Hey Ana, didn't we talk about looking at Christian's old rowing trophies?"
"Uh-"
"Oh, right," Christian says easily, "Shall we go look?" he asks openly.
"I'll tag along," Elliot grins, "I'm sure I've got a trophy or two out there."
I know I'm meant to say yes, but I don't trust either of them. Before I can answer, however, the Grey brothers are on their feet and Christian is holding his hand out to me. I place my hand in his, and I feel all the muscles in my body clench, responding to his dark, hungry gaze.
"Excuse me," I say to Carrick, Leila, and Kate, as I follow Christian out of the dining room.
They lead me through the hallway and into the kitchen, where Mia and Grace are stacking the dishwasher. European Pigtails is nowhere to be seen.
"We're going to show Anastasia my rowing trophies," Christian says innocently to his mother. She waves us out with a smile as Mia heads back to the dining room.
We step out onto the gray flagstone patio area lit by recessed lights in the rock. There are shrubs in gray stone tubs and a chic metal table and chairs set up in one corner. Christian walks past those, up some steps, and onto a vast lawn that leads down to the bay . . . it's as beautiful as ever. Seattle twinkles on the horizon and the cool, bright May moon etches a sparkling silver path across the water toward a jetty where two boats are moored. Besides the jetty stands the boathouse. It's picturesque and the epitome of peaceful. I stand and gape for a moment as Elliot walks off ahead of us.
Christian pulls me behind him, and my heels sink into the soft grass.
"Stop, please." I am stumbling in his wake.
He stops and gazes at me, his expression unfathomable as Elliot continues on to the boathouse.
"My heels. I need to take my shoes off."
"Don't bother," he says, and he bends down and scoops me over his shoulder. I squeal loudly with shocked surprise, and he gives me a ringing slap on my behind.
"Keep your voice down," he growls.
Fuck . . . this is not good. If I was standing, I'd be quaking at the knees. He's mad about something—could be José, Texas, no panties, biting my lip. Elliot. Leila. I should be the one upset.
"Where are we going?" I breathe.
"Boathouse," he snaps.
I hang on to his hips as I'm tipped upside down, and he strides purposefully in the moonlight across the lawn.
"Why?" I sound breathless, bouncing on his shoulder.
"I need to be alone with you."
"With Elliot?" I snip and again he swats me on the ass. "What for?" I huff.
"Only for a moment. And because I'm going to spank you and then I'm going to fuck you."
"Why?" I whimper softly.
"You know why," he hisses.
"I thought you were an in-the-moment guy?" I plead breathlessly.
"Anastasia, I'm in the moment, trust me."
Holy fuck. Christian Grey is going to be the death of me.
A Note from the Author:
Feel free to friend me on Facebook under Sara Reed or join the group Sara Jo Updates for updates, teasers, and more. Just copy the link into a url bar and remove the spaces: h t t p : / / m . f a c e b o o k . c o m / g r o u p s / 2 1 5 8 4 7 9 2 7 4 4 3 2 3 2 4
Recommended FanFiction: One Crazy Night by Madison Quinn
xoxo,
Sara Jo
