A/N: For this chapter my note will be found at the end of the update so no spoilers are revealed.

Chapter 12

"Ana, wake up."

The voice is an insistent whisper.

I pry open my eyes and Christian is standing over me, his hand caressing my forehead, brushing my hair out of my face. "You were having quite a dream. I wasn't sure if it was a nightmare or not, so I erred on the side of caution. Was it?"

I sit up and look around me, disoriented. I'm in Christian's bed and the room is dim and quiet. "Um, how did I get here?"

He looks at me with amused eyes. "You fell asleep in the car on the way home from the restaurant. I managed to wake you enough to walk into the apartment but then you conked out again on the sofa. I carried you into my bedroom."

I grab my head. "What? Didn't… didn't we go into your… um… special room?"

He rears back in surprise, his mouth dropping open. "No, we did not. Was that what your dream was about?" He smiles now and his eyes shine, intrigued.

My face burns hot—red-hot. "I guess I thought we were in there." God, it seemed so real—all the sensory nuance, the expressions on his face, the tone of his voice. That erotic novel Minx slipped into my coat pocket must be responsible for my subconscious fantasy. It was very… detailed and educational. By the time I finished it the very night she gave it to me, I had to take a bracingly cold shower.

He gently strokes my face. "No, Ana. We were not."

"In my sleep I went in there with you…" Should I tell him the rest? "We… um… had fun."

"Did we now?"

I nod and clear my throat. "Yes, I think we should try it."

Once again I realize that cause and effect rules our lives and the universe in general. The cause this time? My words of encouragement for Christian to introduce me to his world. The following effect is immediate and distressing: it's almost as if a wall is erected over his eyes and around his emotions, obscuring them protectively from my scrutiny. It's not the first time he's done it, either. It seems Christian Grey has secrets he's not willing to share with me… or perhaps with anyone.

He's still looking at me, mind you, but his eyes are flat, having lost all animation. He might as well be reading an office memo.

"Hmm."

His hands are also still on me—my face and my hair. Christian is tactile, I've noticed, always reaching out to touch things he likes. At least, I think he likes me. He starts to speak again and I try to focus on what he's saying.

"While you were sleeping… and I was watching you slumber in all your appealing innocence, I experienced a change of heart." He cocks his head, his blank eyes trained on me, watching my response. "An attack of conscience might be a more apt description. I don't think I can lead you down that dark path, baby. It wouldn't be right."

My brain, sluggish from sleep, is trying to decipher if what he's saying is good or bad. "But you said it's the only kind of relationship you have…?"

Even in the low lamplight, I can see his eyes darken yet they remain inscrutable.

"Yes."

"So… no us, then? Are you telling me good-bye so soon?" Even though I say it, I still expect him to refute it.

The long pause before he answers ratchets up my anxiety. This isn't looking good for me. "I don't want to, Ana… but I think it's for the best."

My chest hurts: there must be an elephant sitting on it because the pressure is enormous and painful. "For whose best?"

"Yours, of course."

"Please. If you want out of this… " I gesture with my hand, almost decking him in the process… "whatever it is we have—I'm not sure what to call it—that's your prerogative. But don't tell me it's in my best interests. At the very least be honest with me… and with yourself. I think I deserve that much, don't you?"

"You deserve that and more, Ana. Honestly, if the whole travesty with that would-be rapist had not occurred, you and I would never have seen each other after that evening, in all likelihood. I would never have seriously contemplated inducting you into my kink…" he grins devilishly now before adding, "although I might have imagined it or possibly dreamt about it."

I suppose he's trying to give me a compliment but I can't really appreciate it at the moment. He's kissing me off essentially. He doesn't want to corrupt me… yet I'm not worth compromising on his criteria for any potential relationship. So that's that. Who was I kidding to think that the oh-so-important Mr. Christian Grey might be romantically interested in me? He was just having a little fun, a diversion. After all, he could date a different Victoria's Secret model every day of the week.

"So that's it then? You're saying good-bye to me right now?"

He gently nods his assent. "It's not at all what I planned but… I think so, Ana."

I cannot tear my eyes away from his handsome face as much as I want to. Why is he being so coldhearted? Now I see some emotion in his eyes—they look a little sad—but his stoic expression remains plastered on his face. He really doesn't care about me. What was I thinking? He starts to speak again but I don't want to listen.

"Perhaps we might remain as friends? I do enjoy your company."

"Do you now?" I echo his words but can't manage anything more. My throat starts constricting—my cue to know I'm seconds away from crying and I don't want to give him that last satisfaction. He may be out of my league but so what? He shouldn't be allowed to treat me so shabbily. I rub my eyes with my fists, suddenly very anxious to get away from him and nurse my wounded pride.

I have to leave.

Without saying another word, I bolt from his bed and take stock of myself. If I can keep my brain distracted, I can hold off any breakdown until I can get away from him. I'm fully dressed except for my shoes so I cast my eyes about, finally spotting them near his closet. I stalk over and slip my feet into them. Without turning around, I hurriedly make my way downstairs to get my jacket and purse.

"Ana? Where are you going? Ana?"

I ignore him to the best of my ability but he follows me, grabbing my arm. I jerk it out of his grasp, still saying nothing and keeping my watering eyes down. My jacket and purse are together on the chair next to the Louis XIV entry table in the grand foyer.

"Let go," I snap, and wrench away as his hand again clamps down on my arm. "I'm leaving." I can hear the traitorous quiver in my voice and I know he can, too. Damn, I hate being an emotional loose cannon.

"Ana, wait. I don't want to part on these terms. Please. Stay and let's discuss this further."

"There's nothing to discuss," I growl out. "Good-bye, Christian. Have a nice life."

Thank God the elevator is there as soon as I call for it. I don't turn around until the doors close behind me because I don't want to see him…nor do I want him to see the tears streaming down my face. I've learned a very hard lesson today, probably one most women are forced to learn. Not everyone is nice, certainly not every man. In fact, the opposite is probably true. I've never been taken advantage of to this extent but at least it took a handsome, young billionaire to list me as a conquest. I try to consider it cynically… at least until I get home and can allow myself to cry. I rush out of the elevator as soon as the door swish open and nodding curtly to the doorman, spill out into the street. Outside, I am lucky for once. An empty cab sails by and I whistle for it. It's a talent my father taught me when I was nine—he was so proud when I mastered the art. Thinking of my dad permits a tiny moment of joy to perforate my misery and just for a moment I feel a smile almost make it to my lips. I plop into the cab's backseat and give him my address. As we speed away, I turn around to take one last look at the building in the sky.

"Good-bye, Christian," I whisper softly so the driver can't hear.

Thankfully, Kate's not home when I let myself in the apartment. I sort of lost it in the cab and feel a little ridiculous right now. The cab driver, a very nice man from Pakistan, told me that no one was worth all those tears and gave me a tissue. His kindness only made me bawl harder. When I paid him, I gave him an extra-large tip and thanked him.

It's late, nearing midnight. I must have fallen asleep at around eight o'clock and slept for two hours at least. That means I'm going to have trouble falling asleep tonight, when I need to more than any other night. I have to decide: brandy or Bendryl?

The weeping has made my head ache, my nose run, and my eyes swell. Running a hot bath, I go into the kitchen and pour myself a snifter of Kate's father's favorite brandy. He gifts a bottle or two to her every Christmas. Along with the brandy, I make myself a cup of warm milk so I don't upset my stomach with the alcohol. I bring both into the bedroom and then get into the scalding hot bath.

"Ana!"

There's a bright light flashing through my eyelids, making me want to shrink away from it. I force my eyes open.

"Kate? What's up?"

"What's up is not you. You fell asleep in the bathtub. Are you okay?"

Shielding my eyes from the bright overhead, I nod. "I'm fine but could you shut off that light? I prefer just the candlelight."

"Is everything okay?" Her eyes narrow. "You've been crying. What happened?"

Sighing, I lean back against the tub. "Kate, give me a minute to get out of the bath and then we'll talk. Okay?"

"Fine." She exits the room, turning off the light as she goes.

Ugh, now I have to withstand the inquisition by Kate. I could kick myself—I almost made it to bed. If only I hadn't fallen asleep in the bath… Maybe I could sneak into my room and pretend I'm out? The air feels frigid when I leave the now tepid bathwater so I wrap the fluffy bathsheet around me and scurry from the bathroom to my bedroom to jump under the covers to warm up.

Kate is having none of it and follows me in. "Oh no you don't," she says, wagging her finger. "I want to know why your eyes are swollen. I've seen that same look in the mirror many a time and it always has to do with a man. What happened with the illustrious Mr. Grey?

I sigh, exasperated. "Why didn't you tell me before we became friends that I'd never be permitted to have a secret thought again?"

She curls her leg under her and perches on the corner of the bed. "Spill your guts, Ana. What happened?"

I wipe my nose with the back of my hand and shrug. "It just didn't work out. We were incompatible."

"Bullshit. You two seemed very compatible to me. Tell me the truth."

"That's the truth, Kate," I insist. I cannot tell her the whole truth because a legal contract I signed prohibits it. Two legal contracts, actually.

"How did it happen?" Her eyes are wide and she looks truly perplexed.

Counting on my tried and true method of diverting the bloodhound off the track with carefully dangled fresh meat, I neatly switch the topic to her. "How's Elliot, by the way?"

Her eyes nearly roll into her head. "Oh, Ana, Elliot is as right as rain. I don't think I've ever met anyone like him. Not only is he gorgeous, he also actually listens to what I say… and seems interested! Plus, he's great in bed and he has a huge dick. I mean, what more can I ask of the universe?"

Her eyes are twinkling when she says it. Uh-oh, Kate in love is almost as insufferable as a brokenhearted Kate. She's wearing her favorite tight jeans, a cropped pink long-sleeved t-shirt, and her silvery blond ringlets spilling down from a bun on top of her head. She is—in a word—gorgeous.

"Well, I'm glad there's one Grey worth our time," I grumble. "Listen, Kate, I've had a very long day—and a hard one—so I'm going to go to sleep early. I'll tell you more about it tomorrow, okay?"

Just as I say that, my phone alerts me to a text mail. As soon as we hear that, a ping sounds from my laptop. Kate glances at me and says drily, "It seems you've got mail. I'll leave it to you to guess who it's from." She squeezes my hand. "If you need anything, even just company, give a shout."

"Thanks, Kate, I will." As soon as the door closes, I reach for my phone to check the message. Christian. I open it, knowing I probably shouldn't.

ANA, I SENT YOU AN EMAIL. PLEASE READ IT NOW. CHRISTIAN

I pad over to my laptop on the desk and bring it to my bed, the bathsheet still wrapped around me. Before I sit back down to read the email, I finish drying off and put on a pair of flannel yoga pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt. Oh, and fluffy socks. There's nothing like warm socks to make a girl feel better. Once done, I ensconce myself amid my many pillows, and, brandy in hand, begin to read the email.

Ana, I don't want you to think unkindly of me. Please understand that I do this not because it's what I want—for it's not, trust me. I do it because I don't want to hurt you or contaminate your purity with the filth of my brokenness. I truly hate how we left it today. Please show me your generosity of spirit by having breakfast or lunch with me tomorrow so we might clear the air. I'll await your reply.

No way, Jose. Not gonna happen, Mr. Grey. I smile at the unintentional rhyme. I'm too hurt to clear the air and he just wants to make himself feel better for the shitty way he treated me. I was willing to try to do what he wanted in order to have some semblance of a relationship with him. If he didn't want to corrupt me, as he claims, he could have tried a relationship without the whips and restraints. Couldn't he?

I take a healthy swig of the brandy. It burns going down but almost immediately I feel better. I've never had a broken heart… not really. In sixth grade, Tony Phelan sort of broke my heart when he broke up with me to go out with a girl in a rival clique. That hurt. Then in high school there was Jake… but I broke up with him.

Then there was Hans. My husband. The last I heard from Mr. McEvoy, he said as far as he could tell, the marriage was legally valid and it is still in force. He's been unable to ascertain for sure whether or not Hans is among the living but he was still working on it.

As for the so-called debt, he told me not to worry at all. It's so entirely bogus that I probably won't hear from them again now that they've been made aware that we're onto them. They won't want to tempt fate by repeated contact, which of course could help facilitate their arrest on multiple federal offenses.

I never do answer Christian's email or text. I always feel a clean break is the only kind of break that doesn't become infected. It would never work out between us, even if I joined him in that red and black room of his. We don't want the same things at all. As a week becomes two and then three, I actually begin to feel grateful toward Christian for cutting it off so quickly, before I could become really attached to him. Knowing him merely for a few weeks, I'd become so enamored of him that our parting was so hard. Imagine if we'd spent any significant time together?

I didn't get the job either, which totally sucked. The good news is that I have another two lined up for the coming week and one is for a junior editor, something I'd really like to do. The other is working in a digital-effects house but it's mostly administrative. Still, the pay is pretty impressive for an entry-level position.

On Monday, I go for both interviews. On Tuesday, I'm offered the junior editor job. On Wednesday, I'm offered the admin job, and on Thursday, Kent Gable calls me.

"Ana?"

I'd been cooking, making potato croquettes and my hands are full of egg and potato batter when my phone chimes. When I see it's Kent, I hurriedly grab a dish towel and wipe my hands clean then snatch up the phone before it goes to voice mail.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Ana. It's Kent Gable. How are you?"

"Kent, hi. I'm fine, thank you. How are you doing?"

"I'm well, Ana, thank you. I spoke to Irina about hiring you again and she informed me you're no longer working for her. Is that correct?"

"It is, Kent. Well, it was. I quit at the request of someone I was seeing but since we are no longer involved, I suppose I can go back to Irina's. What did you have in mind?"

"I have a few events on the horizon. First, I've a fashion show coming up…. in Milan. Are you game?"

"Am I game?" I practically scream it. "Yes, I'm definitely game! When do we leave?"

He's laughing at my enthusiasm, I suppose. "The show starts in two weeks but I need to be there in ten days. I'd like you to accompany me for the entire trip so I can use you for fittings. You have the same measurements as many of my models despite the fact that they're all about four inches taller than you. Still, the only allowance I need to make is the hemline. Can you swing it?"

"I just was offered two different positions, believe it or not. But let me see if either or both would let me start at a later date. When would we be finished?"

"I'll need six days there once the show begins. All told, I'd say a month at the minimum. I'll make it worth your while financially, even if you have to turn down the jobs."

"Okay. You said a few. What are the others?"

"A family wedding in Monterrey and a benefit for at-risk children in Seattle. The benefit is this weekend. The wedding is right after we come back from Italy."

"Wow, you're keeping me busy. Okay, I'll have to call Irina and get her approval but I'm all in, Kent. Thanks for thinking of me."

"You're welcome, Ana. I'm so glad you can do it. Once you confirm with Irina, shoot me a text so I can get started on your outfit for Friday night."

"I'll call her right now. Thanks, Kent! I'm so excited."

I hear him chuckle as he disconnects. How lucky I was to have met Kent. He's such a nice man—so generous and fun… and he seems to genuinely like me. That attribute is one I always find endearing. Glancing at my watch I see it's nearly six. Irina may be at dinner but I tend to doubt she dines this early. I punch in Irina's number and it goes to voice mail so I leave a message for her, giving her a brief overview and asking her to call. I go back to my potato croquettes.

By nine, Irina hasn't called back so I try her again. This time she answers on the second ring.

"Ana, I'm sorry I didn't get back to you yet. I was trying to figure out how to handle the situation, actually."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that I'm in sort of a bind, dear. I made a promise to Mr. Chinaski that I wouldn't assign you to any more dates. I prefer not to incur his wrath; however, I'd like you to have this opportunity and frankly you and I will both earn quite a nice payday from it. Kent wants you for three separate events, and the Milan one alone will be like hitting the lottery for both of us. I'm wondering if I can tell him your contract gives you the upper hand."

"Irina, Mr. Chinaski has no right whatsoever to call any shots in my life. He did me a good turn and that's it. There were no conditions attached to it and I resent having to toe the line when it comes to his requirements."

There's such a protracted pause that I fear the call dropped but then I hear what sounds like an expelled breath. "All right, Ana. I will defer to you on this matter. After all, it is your life. I suspect our friend won't be pleased about this turn of events."

"Irina, in all likelihood, our friend won't even know about it. Thank you. I'll let Kent know."

"Very good. Don't forget the follow-up."

"Irina, what do you do with those follow-up reports?"

"File them away. It's part of my recordkeeping for tax purposes, as well as compiling information on clients. No incriminating evidence is maintained, if that's your concern."

"No, no. I was just curious. Okay, well, have a good evening."

The minute I disconnect, I send Kent a text message. We're on! I'm looking forward to seeing you again and of course wearing one of your magnificent creations. Thanks, Kent!

As time has passed, I'm feeling less animosity toward Christian. My feelings were very hurt over his rejection and I felt taken advantage of since I'd given him my virginity. In all fairness to him, though, he never promised me anything and gave me ample opportunity to back out of our weekend of passion. Besides, it was wonderful and at least I won't join the ranks of girls who had a horrible first time—mine was sublime.

Meantime, I'm over the moon that Kent called me. Not only am I excited to see him again, but go with him to Milan? My God, it just gets better and better.

On Thursday morning my dress arrives. Kent certainly cut it close, no pun intended. Kate and I gingerly remove it from the garment bag.

"Oh, wow, Ana, this is going to look gorgeous on you!"

It's a nude color, sort of champagne, I'd say but with a titch more orange and it's two-piece. The top looks like a standard camisole but with a flared and dropped waistline. The bottom is a flouncy skirt in matching material. The hemline hits at mid calf and is assymetrical. I love it and can't wait to try it on.

"Ana, there's a note from Kent." She hands me an ivory envelope. "What does it say?"

I scan the note. "He told me not to wear the diamond necklace with the dress, you know, the one he gave me."

"What does he want you to wear?"

"He said he's looking for the right piece to go with it. Are there shoes?"

"Yes! Here's a box." She tears it open like it's Christmas. "Oh my God, Ana. Gorgeous! How will you ever walk in these though?"

The shoes have killer heels. They're Jimmy Choo crystal suede leaf sandals in nude and the heels are five or six inches. "I can't wait to get dressed!" I clap my hands and it suddenly hits me that I'm happy for the first time since I fell asleep in the cab with Christian. My man Kent rescued me from the blues.

"Can I do your hair, Ana? I know just how I'll do it to go with this outfit."

"How?" I peer at her suspiciously.

"Blow it perfectly straight and then pin it up with an asymmetrical fan of hair sticking out the back." In response to my skeptical look, she says, "Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"That sounds like someone's famous last words. Okay, I'll trust you."

"Good. Tomorrow can't come fast enough. Oh, wait, yes it can. I'm going out with my hunky hottie tonight."

I can actually feel my face fall and Kate of course notices. "Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie, that was thoughtless of me. Don't worry: you'll find another one soon."

"Not like him," I say softly but I know I have to stop pining over him. What's done is done and now, thanks to Kent, I'm going to have fun.'

"Well, you're not the only one going out with a hottie tonight. Nuh-uh. I'm going to see a film with Mr. Rodriguez. So there. And afterward, we'll probably go have warm beer at the bar down the block. Jealous much?"

Grinning, Kate said, "Very. Come on, Ana, let's go out for lunch. My treat."

….

Kent is prompt, picking me up exactly the time he said he would. In his tuxedo, he looks simply smashing. When I come out of the bedroom to greet him, his mouth hangs open. "My God, that dress fits you exactly how it did in my mind's eye. Ana, you're my muse come to life. Perfect."

He walks over to me, still gaping and reaches into his breast pocket. "Jewelry," he says and extends his hand. He's holding a very delicate gold chain, so fine that I know it won't be visible on my skin. From it is a small diamond pendant in a teardrop shape. Kent places it around my neck and attaches the clasp for me.

"Let me see, turn around."

I spin around for him. "Well?"

"Perfect, just perfect. I brought a vintage watch for you to wear but it doesn't work—it's just for show. It's rose gold and I thought it would look smashing with the dress."

I look carefully at the 1930s watch. The crystal is domed and the face is surrounded by rubies and diamonds. It's exceptionally pretty.

"Thanks, Kent." I kiss his face. "Once again, you've made me feel like a princess."

"Well, I can't get a better recommendation than that. Let's go, Ana." He holds out his arm and I slip my hand into the crook of his elbow.

"So what event are we attending tonight?"

"It's a benefit for a cluster of advocacy groups focused on helping at-risk children. They're trying to raise funds to build a new recreational center. I've always felt the only way to really effect deep change is by helping the youngsters succeed so I support these types of efforts. Shall we?"

"By all means."

The benefit is wonderfully entertaining. The meal is buffet-style and the foods represent just about every culture on the planet. The dance floor is expansive and very elegant, with dark woods gracing the floor, huge crystal chandeliers, and the most beautiful candle sconces mounted on the wall every few feet. Mirrors are used to great effect, bouncing the candlelight everywhere. The building is a converted armory so the proportions are grand in scale.

Kent is a great dancer and he whisks me around the room gracefully. I inquire after Jared and Kent tells me he's away on business.

"Oh, what does he do?"

"He owns several art galleries but he's also got his hand in other businesses, primarily commercial real estate. He's always up to something."

"That sounds interesting… and busy. Where did you two meet?"

Kent tosses his head back and laughs. "This is going to sound so pretentious but we actually met on a yacht. A friend of mine invited me to cruise the Mediterranean on his new catamaran. Jared was staying at a friend's villa on the banks of the Grand Canal. When there was a rather large party on the yacht one night, he and his friend Dina came aboard and that's how we met."

"Sounds very romantic," I say and watch as Kent blushes furiously. It reminds me of someone I know and love, I think and suppress my chuckle. Kent's so sweet in his shyness when talking about his love. I truly am growing to adore this guy, for so many different reasons.

The evening lasts till nearly midnight. For the first two hours or so, I worried I'd see Mr. Grey. After all, he's an active supporter in many philanthropic efforts, especially local ones, so it wasn't impossible. But after enough time passes, I breathe easier, knowing I won't run into him tonight. The relief morphs into a stinging disappointment, as well. I miss him and the part of me who's a glutton for punishment would love to see his shining silvery eyes again. Then again, he'd probably be with some gorgeous woman and I'd be twisted up by jealousy. After all, he can't take his sister to every benefit.

That's when I start thinking about that time I saw him with the Victoria's Secret model. Was she a submissive? I never asked. I wish I had gotten to speak to one of his former subs before we parted ways. I'd be so interested in knowing more about the man—the side he didn't want me to see.

In the car on the way home, Kent pats my hand. "Do you have all your travel documents in order?"

"Yes, I believe so. I have my passport and any other identification that might be required. Will you tell me what to pack?"

"Yes, I'll have my assistant send you a list of what you should bring and another list of items we can purchase over there. Our flight leaves on Thursday evening at seven. We need to get to the airport by no later than five so I'll pick you up about four."

"Perfect. I'm so excited, Kent. I'll be ready when you get here."

"Great. I had a very nice time tonight, Ana. Thank you." He brings my hand to his lips and kisses it.

"Thank you, Kent. I enjoyed myself too."

"Come on," he says as the limo pulls up in front of my building, "I'll walk you to your front door."

When I get inside, Kate's not home. As soon as Kent takes his leave, I undress, carefully removing my Cinderella clothes and replace them with my comfy Haagen-Dazs clothes, as they're known in this condo. Kate and I laugh about how all women have clothes to wear out and clothes to wear in. The wearing-in clothes always are roomy enough for binge eating or drinking sessions if things get rough enough—or fun enough.

After making myself a steaming mug of green tea, I go into my bedroom to read in bed for a little while before retiring. As soon as I get tucked into my bed, my laptop pings and my phone chimes. Since my phone is closer, I reach for it and brush the screen to retrieve my messages. There are three: one from my mother, one from Carson McEvoy, and the most recent one from Christian.

Christian?

…...

A/N: I needed to apologize for the slight manipulation here. I don't normally do this kind of surprise; however, I wanted to bring y'all a sexy scene for Valentine's Day and we weren't there yet in the story.

In FSoG, Christian had few qualms about bringing Ana into his lifestyle and Ana was the one with the worries and reservations. I've reversed the dynamic in my story: Ana, though anxious, is the one gung-ho about trying it, for she fancies herself in love with Christian—after all, what's not to love? Christian is the one with serious reservations about bringing Ana into his playroom due to her innocence.