I immediately scowled. Quite the bold move from a drunken stranger who probably had his own ulterior motiv –

I shouldn't have turned around. Before me stood the gorgeous man from the bar. He was standing very close – very close indeed, his hand still grasped around my drink. I tried to pull it back but he resisted. "I know how to take care of myself, thanks," I miffed.

"Really? How old are you? 21? 22? Are you even old enough to drink? American girls come in here all the time for some harmless fun and then end up in the trunk of an old Ford Fiesta."

I glared. "I'm fine!" I pulled the drink back, spilling it all over my dress. "Great. Thanks for that."

He gave no apology. "Better on your dress than in your digestive system." His eyes lingered on my mouth, and I couldn't help but return the favor.

The guy who gave me the drink returned and cursed with a thick accent. "You were supposed to drink that!" He looked irritated. "It's fine, I'll get you another one."

Mr. Gorgeous quickly had him by the arm. "No, you won't. You will get your people, your shit, and get the hell out of here."

Accent Guy laughed and responded with derision. "Who the hell are you? Chill out, man, have a little fun."

Mr. Gorgeous grabbed him by the throat and threw him against the wall, drawing gasps and stares. I backed up and tried to work out an escape. How did I end up in the middle of this? "Have a little fun? You think it's fun preying on young girls to pad your pockets so you can drive fancy cars and buy expensive prostitutes? You're a sick fuck and you don't deserve to be alive."

Accent Guy managed to squeak out a response. "You've got about two minutes before Peter gets here. And if he sees this, you're leaving in a body bag."

For the first time, Mr. Gorgeous showed a sign of weakness, his eyebrows pulling together in worry. He reluctantly let Accent Guy go. It occurred to me that I hadn't made much progress in my escape so I ran back to the dance floor and fought the crowd to find my friends. They had somehow disappeared - very, very disconcerting. A new song came on – apparently a well-known on – and the crowd became raucous, knocking me around until I fell to the floor. I curled up in a ball and covered my head with my hands, visions of heavy metal concert tramplings poisoning my mind. Fear prompted me to switch to all fours and crawl my way to the edge of the crowd, my hands and knees slipping in spilled beer, cocktails, and some unknown substance I didn't want to contemplate.

I finally reached the edge, a panic attacked just on the cusp of my consciousness. I sat and tried to breathe, the room starting to swirl around me; I needed some fresh air. I moved to stand, but a pair of shiny black shoes was visible just in front of me. I glanced up at the owner of the shoes – it was Mr. Gorgeous, of course.

He reached his hand down as if to help me up. "Need some air?"

I was still dizzy so I didn't have the presence of mind to fight him. I grabbed his hand and stumbled to my feet. He escorted me out the dilapidated club door.

"So I'm not supposed to go anywhere with strangers, but somehow I'm supposed to trust you?" I clamored as the cool air soothed my senses.

He looked at me with surprise. "God, no. But I know myself; you're safe."

I huffed and wrapped my arms around myself to flick away the chill. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and handed it to me. I took it gratefully. "I suppose it's the least you can do," I muttered.

"The least I can do?" he exclaimed. "I just saved your life. You should be thanking me."

I rolled my eyes. "Yep, I always thank complete strangers who stalk me through clubs and make up bullshit stories about sex traffickers. You've probably got your own outfit near here, don't you? What's your angle? Waiting for me to trust to you and then you'll pounce?"

He turned to me, his eyes blazing. "I am not a piece of shit like those fuckers in there." He pulled out another cigarette. "I have a conscience, for God's sake. Why do you think I'm here?"

He puffed his cigarette and turned away. "Wait a minute: you come here just to save 'damsels in distress' like me? You don't have any else to do?" I laughed. The situation wasn't really funny, but I didn't care.

"Where would you be right now if I hadn't been here?"

I chuckled. "Probably having a good fuck in the back of that guy's car."

He reeled on me, but I didn't let him say anything. "I'm just kidding, Jesus. You don't know me that well – I don't 'do' one night stands and I'm too fucking shy to sleep with anyone the first night I meet them. I don't have a problem with people who do that, it's just not my style. So I'm pretty safe of my own volition, thanks. I don't really smoke either, actually." I glanced sardonically at my cigarette.

He finished his and flicked it in the dirt. "So you're a 'good girl'?"

I snorted. "No. I had a great time in bed with my last boyfriend. In fact, I'm out here trying to get over him…"

He nodded. "I'm Christian. Christian Grey." He was looking straight forward as if he'd suddenly become insecure.

"Bella," I responded. I waited for him to say something, but he just stared into the distance. I took a moment to admire his face, his arms, his body… "Everything okay?" I asked.

He turned to me. "Yeah." He looked me in the eye. "Really good, actually." Tingles ran from my head to my toes. He wasn't giving me the angered look from before or the teasing smirk. He was dead serious. He pushed a hair behind my ear and, for a moment, I thought he might kiss. And, to my shock, I wanted him to.

"There you are, Bella!" Kate came running over, shocking me back into the present.

"Where the hell did you go, Kate? I was looking all over for you!"

"We came out for some fresh air, just like you." She gave Christian a once-over. "And who is this tasty treat?"

Christian didn't seem impressed with her compliment. "This is Christian," I replied. "He apparently saved me from some sex traffickers, or something. Now that he's done his citizen's duty, I'm sure he'll be going." I spoke my words quietly – I didn't really want him to leave. Not at all. But I didn't know him from Adam and couldn't think of reason why he'd want to stay around and hang out with me. I was giving us both an out.

"Oh no, no, no," Kate teased, rubbing her hand over his arm, much to my displeasure. "He's coming inside with us. Has Bella claimed you, Christian, or are you still on the market?"

I froze. I suddenly had no desire to give him up to Kate and her overly-flirtatious ways. She always got the cute ones. It was my turn! Christian must've noticed the look of alarm on my face because he removed her hand from his arm. "I'm definitely not going back in there without Bella. But I don't think she wants to dance."

I looked up at him gratefully. It was like he already knew me better than my own friends.

But Kate shook her head. "Uh-uh. You and Bella are going to come inside and dance. Maybe you'll attract some other hotties in our direction." And with that, she grabbed our arms and dragged us inside with our other friends before we could protest. Christian gave me a questioning look, but I just shrugged. Once Kate had her mind made up, there was no deterring her.

If you're not a fan of 50 Shades, don't worry – there's no BDSM in this story. Christian will DEFINITELY be more appealing than Edward, though!