A/N: Again, thanks for your fun and insightful comments. A special thanks to Sabina Arabella for her excellent advice on legal matters—she's keeping me honest.

Chapter 5

It's been a quiet week. Other than going on one underwhelming interview for the lowliest of low-on-the-totem-pole graphic design positions at an online fashion magazine, there's nothing else on the horizon. Originally I had set up another interview for a junior editor job at a boutique publisher, but I cancelled it, deciding the pay was too low and the hours too long. Fortunately, my dad sent me a big check that will hold me over for the next few months, augmented by my part-time job's meager salary. Right now I can afford to be somewhat choosy.

I never do tell Kate about what happened to me with the phony debt scam, followed by the debacle at Irina's, and ending with Christian Grey's transient interest in and consequent kiss-off of me. For one thing, it hurt far too much and still does. For another, Kate would never let me hear the end of it, starting with lectures on my naiveté for falling for the scam, reprimands for my sheer idiocy for even considering employment with Irina, and ending, of course, by carping on my utter stupidity when dealing with the dashing business mogul.

Or maybe she'd just hug me, make me hot tea, and watch an old movie with me late into the night. Still, I won't take the chance.

As for my dark-haired beauty, it's over and done. I haven't heard a peep from him and I don't expect to. For the brief moment I knew him, however, he made a significant impression on me. I go to sleep thinking of him and wake up with him on my mind. It stands to reason I must dream about him but I never remember my dreams.

….

On the following Monday, two things happen. Our house phone rings at seven a.m. rousing me from a deep sleep. It's the supposed U.S. Attorney's office calling, probably to inquire after the payment schedule I was to arrange with the other fake lawyer and the debt-collection agency. When I don't answer, it rings again a couple of minutes later. Lo and behold, now it's the debt-collection agency calling. As soon as I see the name on the caller ID, I roll over and try to go back to sleep.

No chance. The bastards also wake up Lady Kate.

"Ana," a soft knock raps on my bedroom door, "did you go on a shopping spree or something? There's a debt-collection agency calling us."

I groan. "No, Kate, just ignore it. It's a bogus agency… I'll explain later but it's only seven," I whine the last words, hoping I'll annoy her enough to give up the game. It works. For now.

But I freaking can't go back to sleep because now that I'm awake, my thoughts follow a recently familiar and unwelcome pattern: Hans—debt collection—Irina's party—Christian Grey—heartache. Fucking heartache.

How could I possibly have developed feelings for him after knowing him for all of ten seconds? I give myself a good scolding: listen here, Missy. It's your hormones ruling, not your heart. Get over it. Yes, he's handsome, charming, and important as all get out. Not to mention richer than many countries. Can you say "miles out of your league"?

The second thing that happens is that a few hours later, I receive a text message—from Irina. Telling me that Kent will be calling me later today with my first assignment and listing all of the information I need to know about him.

Shit.

I never got around to telling Irina I was quitting before I even started. When I read to the end of the text, I see the amount of money I could expect from the assignment and my eyes nearly pop out of my skull: twenty-five-hundred dollars, of which I get to keep fifty-five percent! That means my share is nearly fourteen hundred dollars for a few hours of work. Not even work. Irina goes on to remind me that any extras must be reported to her for further splits although jewelry given as bonuses by happy clients may be kept as personal gifts. She writes that they still need to be listed on the follow-up sheet.

Now I'm faced with a dilemma: honor my obligation to Irina and go out with the kind, mannerly Kent, making a killing in the process… or honor my assurance—or was it a promise?—to Christian Grey and refuse any and all assignments from Irina. And not tell her why, since he asked me to keep it confidential.

Ugh. I don't know what to do so I do what I do when confronted with such a quandary. I go shopping.

I finally get up the nerve to call Irina, two pairs of Joe jeans—on major discount—and a pair of biker boots later. She answers on the first ring.

"Yes, Ana? I assume you received my message?"

"Irina, yes, I did. Um… Kent is a gentleman and based on the short interview we had, I like him so much—"

"But?" she interrupts, knowing a but is coming.

"But… I found another way to deal with my unexpected debt and very recently reached the conclusion that I probably shouldn't work for you. I'm so sorry, Irina."

"No, I understand why you're reticent given the experience you had. But, Ana, you signed an employment contract with me containing a stipulation that you wouldn't renege until at least two assignments have been completed. The only exemption is serious illness and/or hospitalizaaton."

I say nothing, stunned into silence.

"Ana?"

"Yes, I'm here, Irina."

"Didn't you read the contract you signed, Ana?"

"Uh, yes, but I don't recall that stipulation."

"It's in paragraph 16, on the third page. Look, Ana, I like you and if I believed that you would suffer in any way from taking this assignment, I wouldn't force the issue. But Kent is a charming man, as you yourself noted, and I believe you'll enjoy yourself immensely on the date. What's more, Ana, is that if Kent finds you compatible, he will hire you for the rest of the year… and he is inundated with invitations, believe me—and all the right ones at that." She pauses to let her words sink in, I suppose. "That's an awful lot of money you're walking away from, dear."

"Okay, Irina. I'll do it, but once I honor the fulfillment of two assignments, I'm out."

"Let's talk again when that time comes. In the meantime, give Kent a call and he'll provide you with all the necessary details. Don't forget to fill out the sheet and scan and email it to me the next day."

"Yes, fine."

I hang up, my mind spinning with conflicting thoughts. On one hand, I have to admit I'm a little excited to go out with Kent. He has no expectations of anything other than my accompanying him and being a charming companion so it might just be fun. I'll get to wear expensive clothing, which I'm hoping I won't have to buy myself, but even if I do, Kate will think she died and went to heaven if I ask for her help. Of course then I'll have to come clean with her but I probably should do that anyway… just so she knows what I'm up to.

On the other hand, I made Christian Grey a sort of a promise. He helped me out of a horrible situation, and in return I assured him I would not work for Irina. But why would he possibly care what I do? Besides, he'll never find out—I seriously doubt that he and Kent travel in the same circles.

As soon as I think of Mr. C. Trevelyan Grey, I start to remember meeting him and how charming and handsome he was with the tuxedo and mask… and I feel such pangs of regret. They're so sharp, they're physical and for the umpteenth time, I wonder how I might have handled things differently. In the end, though, I console myself with my mother's little adage, It is what it is. Sighing, I scroll to Kent's message to write down the information.

…...

Saturday finally arrives, the night I'm to accompany Kent to a museum fundraiser dinner, followed by a silent auction. Earlier in the week, Kent had asked me for all my clothing and shoe sizes and on Friday afternoon, a Fed Ex delivery came for me. Inside the mammoth white box were the most gorgeous gown, a matching clutch purse, silk stockings and lingerie, and a pair of shoes to die for. I'm no clotheshorse but I instinctively knew that the ensemble must have cost thousands of dollars. I yelled for Kate before whooping with delight.

I had told Kate the whole sorry story shortly before I spoke with Kent. She surprised me with her reaction. I'd spewed the entire tale out without stopping nor allowing her to interrupt. When I finished, I took a deep breath and waited, guilty expression on my face, no doubt. Kate was sitting across from me in the kitchen and we were having coffee. She got up, came over to me, and then gave me a big hug.

"Oh, Ana, I'm so sorry you went through that alone. You should have told me. My dad's best friend is an eminent attorney and he could have easily helped you—he would have known it was fishy from the start. How do you suppose they targeted you anyway?

I shook my head. "Haven't got a clue. That's one of the things Mr. McEvoy is going to look into for me. He thinks it has more to do with Hans than me. Probably right.

Kate nodded, her eyes worried. "You'd better not do this again, Ana. I'm your friend, not your parent. I won't judge." She grinned. "I'll yell at you naturally but then we'll put our heads together and figure out what to do. Like now. What are you going to wear to this fancy shindig?"

"I don't know. I guess I'll either have to wear the gown I wore to Irina's party or borrow something from you."

The next day Kent called and told me he'd take care of my outfit and asked for all my sizes. So that settled that.

When Kate came running at my call, she examined my booty with excited eyes. "Ana, those shoes have a red sole. They're Louboutins! Fifteen hundred right there."

I picked up the stiletto heels in black satin. Sure enough, Kate got it right—she knows her designers. The gown had no label but everything else did and I wondered what was up with that. Kate closely examined the dress from every angle.

"Ana," she dragged out the two syllables of my name, "this is an original couture gown. Oh my God, it's gorgeous!"

It was, too. It's a black satin strapless gown. The waistline—if you could call it that—is just under the bustline but it slopes down lower in the back. The front of the gown is mostly tightfitting from bodice to floor but from the back of the lower waistline, it poofs out and the fabric is covered in sequins of the same color. It's like having two gowns in one and I rushed to try it on. Kent must have a very good eye for women's fashion.

"It fits you to a tee!" Kate exclaimed when it was on and I was twirling in it. "God, Ana, you look simply stunning, like a princess."

"I feel like a princess in this gown. I can't wait to put everything on together."

"Let's see what else he sent." She held up black satin panties.

"Well, they're skimpy but at least they're not a thong. I hate wearing thongs. It's like having a wedgie all day."

Kate laughed. "I guess it's because you don't need to worry about panty lines in this dress—at least not in the back. "No bra because there's a built-in one in the dress. Black silk thigh-high stockings. Oh, look, Ana, he included black satin garters to hold the stockings up if needed."

"Yes, he thought of everything… except jewelry. Hmm, what should I wear, Kate?"

She put her hands on her hips, thinking. "You know what? The only thing you should wear is one very simple but chunky bracelet. Nothing else. The gown is so beautiful, you don't want to detract from it. Maybe, if you had a diamond choker but you don't and I don't. The diamond necklace I have hangs too low to go well with the gown. Plus, you have a beautiful neck and collarbone, Ana. Kent probably noticed."

"Okay," I said, uncomfortable with compliments. "Will you help me do my makeup tomorrow?"

"Of course, sweetie. I'm so excited for you."

So here I am today. It's six p.m. and Kent is picking me up at seven. I'm sitting in my robe as Kate does my hair and makeup. By the time she's finished at 6:40, I don't recognize myself in the mirror. I angle my face back and forth. "Do you think so much eye makeup is necessary?"

She sighs with exasperation. "Yes, I do. You look like a top fashion model, Ana. Come on, let's put the gown on."

Taking one last look in the mirror, I decide I really like my hair this way. Kate used my natural wave and did the ends in big, loose curls—basically waves that spill down my back. I drop the robe, naked but for my black satin panties, and go to the bed to sit and put on my stockings. God, they feel so sensuous going up my leg. I decide here and now that I simply must wear this kind of stockings more often. They make me feel very feminine. "Do you think I'll need the garters?"

"Well, if he included them he must think so. Wear them—better safe than sorry." She reverently picks up the gown from the back of the chaise and helps me step into it. "Okay," she claps her hands, "put on the shoes and let's have a look."

My feet slip easily into the high heels and I stand there for her inspection.

"Bravo! You look magnificent. Let me grab my phone to snap a photo."

While she gets her phone, I stride to the floor-length mirror and almost stop dead in my tracks as I catch a glimpse of myself. Is that me? I look like someone else entirely. Kate put black eyeliner on me à la Audrey Hepburn. In fact, I sort of resemble the iconic actress.

Kate rushes in and snaps a few photos. "Perfect! Oh, and Kent's limo just pulled up outside. He's probably at the door, or his driver is. Let's go see."

I lunge for my purse and matching wrap—which was also included with the gown—and almost trip on the carpet. "Whoa. These heels should come up with a training manual."

Kate sniffs. "Serves you right for never dressing up unless fire is held to your feet." Opening the front door, I see her bestow a huge gorgeous-blonde smile on whoever is lucky enough to be behind it. "Well, hello, handsome. I'm Ana's friend Kate. Please come in."

A tuxedoed Kent steps through the doorway, smiling, but stops short when he catches sight of me. "Ana, wow. You look… wow, like Audrey Hepburn."

I chuckle. Kent steps closer to me and reaches into his pocket. "I see I got the measurements just perfect for the gown."

"Yes, perfect," Kate jumps in. "Who's the designer?"

Kent smiles slightly. "I am."

"You are?" Kate looks astonished. She steps back slightly, confusion reining on her face and then it lights up. "Not Kent Gable?"

"Yes, I am," he says, quietly modest. "Do you know my work?"

Kate's head bobs furiously. "Absolutely. I adore your designs. No wonder Ana looks so fantastic."

Kent looks toward me warmly. "She does, doesn't she? When I first saw her, I knew she'd wear my dresses quite well. Oh, I have one additional piece for you, Ana." He pulls his hand from his pocket and he's holding a long box that he hands to me. "I thought this piece would go nicely with the dress."

Carefully opening the elegant box, I gasp when I see its contents: a diamond choker! It is breathtaking in its brilliance. It's thin but studded with diamonds, the clarity of which is amazing and these aren't mere chips but diamonds of considerable size and weight. I cannot even begin to guess the value of the necklace and I'm afraid to wear it.

"Here. Allow me," he says reaching for the choker and lifting my hair over my shoulder, proceeds to clasp it onto me. Again, it fits perfectly and looks spectacular with the dress. Kent looks at Kate. "It's been a real pleasure to meet you, Kate. Are you ready to go, Ana?"

"Yes, I am." He holds out his arm and I slip my hand through and off we go.

The dinner is being held in the museum itself and the room has been turned into a fairyland of pinpoint lights and greenery. As You Like It is the theme so the huge marble and glass room has been turned into a magical forest. We are escorted as soon as we exit the limo and all along the red carpet and into the building, Kent is greeted by everyone we pass along the way. He is so very charming and attentive to me and despite being sickeningly nervous, I am also having fun. I feel like someone else tonight—someone with an exciting life.

Once inside, we are given our seat numbers and a waiter comes over with a tray bearing flutes of champagne. Kent plucks two off and hands me one.

"Thank you, sir. I think I need fortification."

"Nervous, Ana?"

"Yes, exceedingly so. You're a complete pro at this type of thing, aren't you?"

He laughs gently. "I've been doing it for a long time now. I still, however, can remember how terrifying it was in the beginning. You'll get used to it soon. The champagne will help."

"Thank you, Kent, for everything. This has to be one of the most exciting nights of my life."

He shakes his head slightly. "Ana, what a terrifically nice thing to say to me. Thank you for that and you are most welcome." He looks around the room. "Shall we mingle a bit before we find our table?"

"Oh, yes." I put my hand on his arm and he walks us into the crowd. Many people approach us to speak with him as we pass so it takes quite a long time to move just a few paces. I'm introduced to about thirty people in about a half an hour. God, I hope I don't have to remember anyone's name. I should mention it to Kent. I nudge him delicately during a brief lull in conversation and he puts his ear close to my mouth. "Will you inform me if I'm meeting someone whose name I must remember?"

"Of course, Ana. So far it's not necessary."

"Good," I utter moments before a new stream of overdressed people bombard Kent with faux hugs and hellos. My face already hurts from constantly smiling so I indulge in a brief unsmiling moment to glance around the sparkling room, admiring all the beautiful people milling about. I'm just about to turn back to Kent when my eyes are caught—and transfixed—by a pair of piercing silver ones across the floor. My mouth drops open and I quickly close it. Fuck!

Christian Grey.

…..

Here. Now. I shift my eyes back to Kent, feeling his eyes follow my every move.

Utterly gorgeous he looks, in his tuxedo—a different one than last time. This one is more fitted to his body and has narrow lapels made of satin. Next to him in a shimmering emerald gown, is a tall, thin woman with raven hair. She's quite beautiful and I feel jealousy streak through me, burning hot in my blood. When I get home, I truly need to give myself a stern talking to… but not right now… because right now he's sauntering over to us, date in hand and a fake smile frozen on his face. I think I am sporting the exact same smile as I try to get myself together. Christian Grey arrives in front of us a nanosecond before another fawning group can descend on Kent.

"Mr. Gable?" comes his smooth, deep voice, his social veneer intact. "Hello, I'm Christian Grey. My sister simply wouldn't forgive me if I didn't introduce her to you. This is Mia Grey, my sister and a devotee of your work."

Kent smiles broadly and shakes the woman's hand. His sister? Well, I'm ashamed how much happier I feel now. Kent turns to me. "This is Ana Steele, my companion for the evening. Ana, please meet Christian and Mia Grey."

I extend my hand and I know it's got to be a bit clammy and shaky. He grasps it, and squeezes, all the while training those penetrating eyes of his on me.

"A pleasure, Ms. Steele. You look quite familiar. Have we met?"

Oh, so he's going to play that game? That's so not fair of him since I suck at lying. "Yes, I do believe we met at a party, Mr. Grey. However, it's very nice to see you again."

"Likewise. Do you recall the party wherein we met? I cannot seem to remember precisely."

"I'm uncertain but I do remember your face and name." I stop smiling and swivel my attention back to Kent. He's playing with fire and I don't intend to get burned. I refuse to make Kent feel foolish when he's such a good man and Christian has absolutely no claim on me. He never said his help had any strings attached.

I'm saved by an unlikely source, namely his sister Mia. She's enthusing about Kent's designs and he points out my gown. Mia runs her hand down the side of my leg and then giggles.

"Oops, I didn't mean to be fresh. It's just that the fabric is irresistibly tantalizing."

Laughing, I agree. "Yes, I couldn't stop touching it when I first received it. The dress is exceptionally pretty, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is, Ana, and it looks fantastic on you," Mia gushes. I like her already but her brother is glowering at both of us. I find I don't care except to the extent that Kent might be bothered. What's his problem anyway? He's the one who walked away from me.

Soon we are asked to take our seats and fortunately, Christian isn't seated too close to us. All through dinner, five courses of it, I worry, the whole time trying my damnedest to present an untroubled façade for Kent. The problem returns after dinner, when the dance floor is opened and Christian approaches me while Kent is deep in conversation with another man.

"May I have the pleasure of a dance?"

Oh, no, what do I do? I'm on a date with Kent. I can't leave him to dance with another man. But how can I say no? I look helplessly to Kent to see if he notices. He does.

"Please, Ana, feel free to enjoy yourself. I'm afraid I'm not much of a dancing man myself."

"In that case, I'll stay here with you." I turn to Christian. "Thank you for the invitation but—"

Kent breaks in. "Really, Ana, I insist. Dance with the poor man. I have the prettiest woman in the room. It's my obligation to share."

I stare at Kent, perplexed, and then back at Christian. He's tilting his head, studying me, his hand outstretched, patiently waiting for mine. I place my hand in his, feeling a charge race up my arm at the contact, and he pulls me to my feet.

"Excuse me," I murmur to Kent and allow Christian to lead me onto the dance floor, wobbly legs and all. When we get there, I let him have it in a low voice, plastering a happy look on my face. "What do you think you're doing?"

He rears back at the tone of my voice, obviously not expecting it. "I think I'm dancing. Am I that bad at it?"

"Very funny, Mr. Grey. I'm here on a date with Kent and you're intruding."

The look on his face is priceless—he looks genuinely surprised that I would dare…

"Intruding? I merely asked you to dance. But since we're being critical," his voice drops into a growl, all social veneer gone, "allow me to point out the fact that you promised me you would retire from Madame Irina's employ once I assisted you out of your debt obligation. Yet… here you are." His eyes were molten.

"What possible difference can it make to you?" I hiss. "For your information, I was obligated contractually to a minimum of two assignment completions. Besides, Kent is a nice man who expects nothing but my company."

"Be that as it may, you promised."

"I assured, not promised. However, I was unaware of that particular stipulation at the time. I guess contract analysis is not my strong suit."

"Then perhaps you might stop signing them," he spits out between gritted teeth.

Why is he so angry? His eyes are nearly sparking and a vein in his neck is pulsing visibly. I compose myself, shrugging off the outrage his behavior inspired. "Mr. Grey, I signed the contract before I even met you. Besides, I fail to see how any of this concerns you. I was unaware that your kind and generous assistance in my legal matter came with strings attached. However, since it appears that it did, I will be happy to reimburse you for whatever monies were spent on Mr. McEvoy's time and effort."

He says nothing but I can actually see him reining in his ire. He inhales deeply and his face goes blank. It's actually impressive how quickly he manages it. Meanwhile, he continues to lead me flawlessly on the dance floor. Hmm, a man who can multitask—will wonders never cease?

While this is happening, I stop to smell the roses… or should I say Christian Grey. Why does he smell so damn good? A minute goes by and he smiles down at me—a full wattage smile that I can't resist so I return it. "I think I should probably get back to Kent," I say, as the song begins to wind down.

Christian peers over my head toward the table where Kent is still seated. "He's otherwise engaged so it's fine for now."

Narrowing my eyes I ask him what that's supposed to mean.

"You do realize your companion is gay, right, Ana?"

"Yes, of course."

"The man he's conversing with is his partner." He pauses. "Allow me to be clear: that is Jared Parks, a publicist and Kent's significant other. Why he thinks no one knows that is beyond comprehension."

"Oh. Yes, especially for a fashion designer, being gay is almost expected."

"Well, maybe he does it for his parents' comfort."

"Perhaps. Still, I should get back to him soon."

"And you will. But first, you and I are going to have a nice chat. Come."

As the first notes of the song You Go to My Head begin playing, he leads me off the dance floor. Holding his hand again is so amazing that my heart begins to trip over, my knees go weak, and I begin to wonder exactly what I feel for this man. I've never felt like this before… ever.