A/N: Almost there. (I told you the final chapter was too long. So far I've gotten what? Three out of it? With another one to come.) After this chapter there will be only the actual wedding ceremony. But don't forget, you can keep in touch on FB, Twitter, or Instagram so touch base with me (Lulu Astor). I can keep you posted on publishing titles and dates if you follow me on any of these. Also, in all likelihood I will continue with the FF story AND I LOVE HER, which is RE from Christian's POV.

Chapter 48

Kate and I are finally alone. In front of us are four desserts and a bottle of wine, and Dante's face rests in my lap. Christian's on a brief business trip and we're having us a girls' night.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon. Gimme me the x-rated version. What happened when Elliot showed up at your door the second time? Every detail please."

Kate smiles and gets a dreamy look in her eyes. "When he called me earlier and asked me how I felt about him, I told him I loved him… and that it scares me. Which is probably why I kissed someone else to begin with. He asked me if I was telling the truth and I said yes, that I never told any man those three words." She looks up at me. "He didn't say much in response, but I was OK with that. I knew he was weighing things."

"And how did you leave it?" I ask with excitement, knowing the best part is yet to come.

"Just at that, pretty much. When the doorbell rang, I'd hoped it would be him, but I didn't believe it would be. I threw on a see-through nightie and ran to the door hoping like hell it was Elliot and not some perv or something—or worse, one of my parents. But really it was, like, after midnight at that point. I heard his deep voice come over the intercom and buzzed him in, and then I just stood back and opened the door. The look on his face when he saw what I had on was pretty priceless." She laughs.

"So? Give me a blow by blow."

Kate cackles. "I like your choice of words. Well…" She leans in closer to me and begins to tell the whole thing.

"I was just heading to bed."

He smirked. "Don't let me stop you, Kat."

I turned around and walked into the bedroom. I could feel his body heat so I knew he was close behind me. Once he crossed the threshold, he shut the door. I sat on the edge of the bed, unsure how to proceed exactly. I didn't want to be too forward… I sat there watching him watch me. He just stood there, about six feet away from the bed and looked hard at me, you know. As if he were conflicted. I waited and used the time to fully check him out. He had on charcoal fitted trousers, a light gray silk shirt and black dress shoes. It looked as if he'd just come from dinner or a party. Of course I wanted to ask but felt it was too presumptuous. After all, we weren't back together… yet.

"You look absolutely beautiful."

"So do you," I tried to say but the words barely emerged my throat was so dry. I think he heard me though.

"Pretty nightie."

I looked down and smiled. "Thanks."

"Take it off."

Now I looked up. "You take it off."

He got to me in two steps, reached down with both hands and ripped it right down the center. I couldn't believe it and gasped. I freaking liked that nightie but that was hot. He didn't say anything; he just sank to his knees and started kissing my breasts, my stomach, all over. His tongue dipped into my navel; he trailed it up to my breasts and bit both my nipples and then the muscle between my neck and shoulder. Marking me. I took it. I swallowed my cry, because I instinctively knew he wanted it to hurt… like I had hurt him.

"God, I missed you, Kat. It fucking hurt to be without you, it gutted me to think of you being with another man. There's not enough whiskey in the world... I don't want to ever feel that way again. Do you hear? Never." He looked up at me and swept his hands up my arms, wrapping both around my throat. "If you ever step out on me again, I'll fucking kill you with these hands, my own two fucking hands. I want you to know that. You're mine. Understand?"

And he tightened his hands a bit so that it bordered on uncomfortable. I nodded, shocked into silence by his actions and words.

I sit there stunned.

"I know what you're thinking, Ana, but it was also very hot. Like seriously hot to hear him say he'd kill me if I ever looked at another man. I have to tell you, I almost had an orgasm."

"Are you crazy, Kate? That's nuts."

She nods, grinning. "And hot."

"And hot," I grudgingly agree. "Mainly because I know he'd never really do something like that. I think. So then what?"

He pushed me down onto the bed and stood up and started ripping his own clothes off. At this point I was basically naked because he'd ripped my nightie in two so it was hanging on me like an open vest. I sat up to watch as he revealed that gorgeous body of his. And boing, out it sprang. Did I ever tell you how big he is? He's huge, Ana. And it's so beautiful too, like a sculpture. Stop rolling those eyes, it's true. Elliot has a very pretty, very substantial cock. And boy, can he wiggle those slim hips of his like the best salsa dancer. I'm getting worked up just thinking about it... Ow! That elbow of yours is sharp and pointy.

"OK so… he got on top of me but he made no other moves, just sunk his full weight on me. By now I was very wet and panting for angry makeup sex—a seriously hard pounding. But he was just looking at me, and I could see… pain… in his eyes.

"What?" I asked him.

"I have to ask you though I really don't want to, Kat."

"Ask me what?"

"How many?"

"How many what?"

"How many men had you while we were apart?"

That got me to snap my legs closed pretty fast… though it wasn't easy with his weight on me. I tried to push him off but it was like trying to kick a car down the street. He's like a brick building.

I growled at him. "How dare you ask me that?"

"How dare I?" He reached closer and bit my lip and I cried out 'cause it hurt but he was just so, like, studly I couldn't help but get even wetter. "I dare because I caught you with your tongue down some guy's throat, and I dumped you because of it. Then I saw you dating another guy, and I'm pretty sure he wasn't the only one." He clutched my shoulders tightly. "Kat, wherever you go you have a slew of men lining up for you. Am I supposed to believe you shunned them all? Why would you when you knew I was seeing other women?"

"I don't give a damn anymore what you believe or don't believe, Elliot. Get off me now." I tried pushing him again but he was staying put.

"Tell me. Now. So we can move on. Kat, I need to know."

"Why? So you can throw it in my face whenever we argue? Why do you need to know so badly, Elliot?"

He knotted his fingers in my hair and then made fists, pulling it close to the roots. Tears pooled in my eyes but I kept quiet. "In my mind I saw you, my beautiful woman, naked with a faceless man. I imagined the whole thing, how you looked, how you moved, the sounds you made. It drove me crazy, but I couldn't stop. I need to know so I can stop the imagining. That's why. Just tell me now when I've prepared myself to hear it."

"All right, Elliot, I'll tell you. Zero. Zero men had me. I wouldn't sleep with anyone else but you, asshole. I'm in love with you and—"

"But you saw me with other women. And I interrupted a date you had with that Marine."

"Yeah, so? I didn't go to bed with him. We had drinks together."

"And you did this even though I was dating multiple women?"

"So I guess you slept with them, huh?"

"I thought we were done." He dropped his head on my shoulder. "I went back to my old ways. I'm sorry, Kat. I shouldn't have."

Suddenly I didn't want him near me anymore. "You have to leave now, Elliot. I can't do this with you now."

He didn't move though, Ana. He refused to budge and just lay there with his head buried in my neck. Before too long I realized he was crying. I didn't know how I felt at that point. I mean, he went back to his man-slut ways. Then again, he thought we were through and that I was seeing other men.

Finally he picked up his head and looked at me. "Kat, I love you. I love you, and I want to marry you. That's why I'm here tonight. Not to fuck you—though of course I want to, but the clothes are off so neither of us can hide behind anything. Skin to skin, soul to soul. I came here to declare myself to you and let you decide for once and for all if you're ready to make that kind of commitment to me. Are you, Kat?"

A proposal? I was speechless. Did I want to marry him? I love him, without a doubt… have never felt this kind of thing for anyone else. When we split I was devastated, my world became a scorched-earth kind of terrain.

But marriage? It's such a big decision and not to be taken lightly. He was waiting while all these thoughts ran through my brain. I could see the apprehension in his face, in the furrows of his brow; and the sincerity in his pretty blue eyes, the long lashes sparkling with unshed tears. So I let him off the hook. All along I really knew the answer I'd give him, regardless of how frightened I was. Am. "Yes. I'm ready, Elliott."

His lips came down on mine so hard and fast that it hurt. After the violent kiss, he kissed me very tenderly and I wiped the remnants of his tears with my thumbs. He got up then and I was able to take a breath again. When he returned to me, he was wearing a condom. "My penance," he said ruefully.

"Then what?" I asked, a little breathless.

"Then he made love to me and, Ana, it was the best sex of my life. He just kept going and going, and I kept coming and coming." She giggles. "We made love all night and when we woke up the next morning we had just enough energy for a shower and to get to Socrates' for breakfast."

"Well," I sit back, "that was almost worth the wait. I'm glad you two are back together but please don't fuck up just in case he really plans to off you, Kate. That would be a very uncomfortable situation for me."

"I can see that. Poor Ana. Anyway, I doubt it will ever come to that, sweetcheeks."

"Oh my God. I just realized you're getting married."

"Uh, yeah. That's what I've been telling you."

"So when do you think you'll do it?"

"Long after you and Christian tie the knot, never fear. We're in the infant stage right now. Speaking of infants," she reached over and plucked the biggest crumb off my apple streusel and popped it in her mouth, "does Christian want kids?"

"I think so. Why wouldn't he?" Kate's question stops me short. Christian and I have never discussed it, amazingly enough. And boy is it important. I would have to bring it up with him soon. "What about you and Elliott?"

"Yes, we want kids. Two. Zero population growth. But we figure we won't start until we've been married at least three years. You know, so we could have some fun together before all the sacrificing starts."

"Sensible. OK, so back to me now. Here's what Kent said about the bridal dresses…"

...

Christian eyes me warily. "I don't think you're going to like what I have to tell you, Ana."

I sigh heavily. I seriously hate when he prefaces what he's about to say with such a phrase. I never like it—he's always right. "What?" I ask, hearing the belligerence in my voice but I can't seem to care.

"My sister insists on being the one to handle your wedding shower and bachelorette party."

"So?"

"So… that means she's almost certain to invite her friends, since most of yours are back east. However, I told her you will need to see—and vet—the guest list."

I take a moment to digest that idea. He's referring, of course to Fifi and Antonia. I can totally handle those two if I had to but why should I? "Okay, so ixnay to Toni and Fifi." Then another ugly thought creeps into my brain. "Anyone else I should know about?"

"No, but I thought I should introduce you to Nastassja since you seem to be antagonized by my friendship with her."

Pursing my lips I give him a long look, for once filtering my thoughts before I blurt them out. "The relationship that really antagonizes me, Christian, is the one you have with Irina."

He jerks back, startled, as if I spit at him or something. "Irina?"

"Are you surprised? Yes, Irina. I'm… uncomfortable about her now that I know your shared history."

He goes from utterly calm to anxious and then annoyed in a split second. I swear it's an amazing show, watching his face register his emotions. With tightened lips he looks me in the eye.

"Actually I can't say I'm surprised. I've known this was coming for a long time but now that it's here, I'm… unsettled."

I study his face, trying to figure out what's going on behind those colorless eyes. He looks like a child who's just been told he can't have a pony. With a rush of clarity, I realize that's exactly what he's like whenever I disagree with him—he acts out. He's emotionally stunted, and that may have been the cause of all our troubles all along, his inability to compromise like a mature adult. Even more important, perhaps, is how it's caused him to be unable to step into the shoes of another to see an issue from a different angle.

Yet he's massively successful as a businessman. One would think seeing things from others' perspective would be a necessary attribute. Unless there's a dividing line for Christian between business and personal, and he flourishes on the business side while atrophying on his emotional life.

I think I've solved the riddle that is Christian Grey. While I'm having this epiphany, he's still talking.

"I suppose it's because of the revelations you gained at Flynn's about Irina and I but, Ana, that is long in the past. Irina and I are good friends, and I very much appreciate her presence in my life. You'll have to get past it. Can you get past it?"

There it is again: the decisive businessman informs me I'll have to get past it. Right afterward, the emotionally stunted guy asks me if I can get past it. This is why I feel as if he's always sending me mixed signals. He must have some kind of multiple personality disorder! Well, now that I understand things—back to the conversation…

I don't really want to get past it. I want to hate Irina for the terrible decisions she's made regarding Christian. But I know he doesn't see it that way.

"We'll see, Christian, that's all I can give you for now. Just know that this discussion is not over, not even close. Meantime, I want to meet Nastassja. Set it up."

...

Four days later he asks me to have lunch with him. He's already at the restaurant when I arrive—with Nastassja. I sidle over to the table, trying to decide if I'm pissed or not that he didn't warn me ahead of time. She is just too stinkin' beautiful, this woman.

"Ana," he says, shooting up out of his chair.

I get closer to him and he leans over to kiss my cheek and then pulls out my chair for me. Once I'm seated, he introduces us. "Ana, this is my old friend Nastassja. Nastassja, my fiancée and soon to be wife, Ana."

Nastassja smiles broadly. "I'm very pleased to finally meet you, Ana. Christian has told me so much about you that I feel as if I know you already."

"Oh?" I say, truly flummoxed. What does Christian tell her, pray tell? I hope not intimate things.

"Yes. I must say you are every bit as beautiful as he claimed."

My face begins to burn and I hear Christian chuckle. He'll pay for that later. For now I address Nastassja. "You are every bit as beautiful as all the photos I've seen of you."

"Photos?" She looks confused.

"Yes, photos. I've seen multiple ones of you and Christian at various events. In magazines."

"Ah. Were you jealous?" She grins, all her perfect teeth showing, and I want to slap it off her.

"Not at all," I respond.

"Good. You have no reason to be jealous because this guy," she points her thumb at Christian before continuing, "loves you to distraction. I've never seen him act like this before… and I've known him a long time now."

"How long have you two known each other exactly?" My eyes flit between her and Christian.

Christian swallows his sip of mineral water. "Since college so… what?" His eyes swivel to Nastassja. "About ten years now?"

Nastassja nods as she swallows a piece of French bread. "About that, yes."

So lunch continues along. I am predisposed to hate this blonde bombshell but by the end of lunch, her easy charm has won me over. She really is nice and not at all like the others who hanker after Christian. In fact, I get no vibes at all of her having a thing for him. They seem to genuinely be friends and nothing else. When it's time to leave, we all stand, and she comes closer to me and gives me a hug.

"I'm so very happy you and Christian found each other. I've never seen him so happy before," she whispers in my ear and gives me a peck on the cheek. "I look forward to your wedding."

"Thank you, Nastassja," I say, touched by her words. She and Christian briefly embrace and then she heads out first, leaving us together.

"Well?" he asks, his brows arched.

"I like her." I say nothing else because it's time for his punishment to begin. He's not the only one who likes to discipline in this family. Silent treatment for him until at least tomorrow, starting…

Now. I walk away without waiting for him.

...

Mia decides to have the shower at her favorite bar and rents the private back room for a weeknight. She's invited twenty-five women—so I'll be a stranger at my own party—and a few choice men, not counting the strippers she's sure to have. No husbands or boyfriends are permitted and the theme is the '80s, complete with big hair and awful fashion.

I seriously don't want to do this. I mean, the 1980s? On the flip side, she didn't mind striking the gruesome twosome from the guest list. Yay for me.

Now what to wear? Parachute pants or stirrups? Definitely not shoulder pads but I will go for big hair, complete with large earrings. I decide Kate has to help, so as soon as she walks through the door, I'm on her.

"Kate, help me decide what to wear to my 1980s-themed wedding shower and bachelorette party. Mia's combining them both, having the shower in the early evening at the Greys' house and then we're going straight to the club. I assume you got your invitation?"

"Yes, yes, I did. It came in the mail one afternoon when I was enduring the worst funk of my entire existence, pining for Elliot and Mia had told me about the woman he brought to dinner."

"Mia told you that?"

She holds up her hands defensively. "Don't go getting mad at her, Ana. I took her out to lunch and plied her with alcohol. She got tipsy enough that I had to drive her back to campus and then take a taxi back to work."

"Oh. Why would you torment yourself like that, Kate?"

She looks me straight in the eye and I could see the remembered misery reflected in her pretty green eyes. "Because I missed him terribly, and I wanted to know if he was as bereft as I was. Now I know."

I attempt to change the subject. "Let's plan our outfits… maybe we should coordinate them? That would be fun. Like, go as the Bangles or something."

She nods. "Yeah, okay. Were you there when he brought the other woman over?"

She's not finished with the subject obviously. "No. Christian had an evening meeting he couldn't miss so we didn't attend that dinner. It was a celebratory event for Carrick's nephew, who made the Olympic crew team. Now I'm kinda glad I didn't go."

"Did you know about it? The woman?"

"Yes, Mia told me when we went shopping the next day. She wasn't keen on her, apparently. She wanted you two to get back together."

"Well, anyway, I put the invitation down somewhere…"

I laugh. "I'll just bet you put it down. You probably sent it flying somewhere, right?"

Kate looks sheepish. "It didn't make me happy when I was missing Elliot so much. Anyway, I'll find it."

Two and a half hours and a pitcher of strong margaritas later, we decide that I'll wear stirrup pants and Kate will wear a tight skirt with leg warmers. She also said she knows just how she'll do our hair. The shower slash bachelorette party is scheduled for the week before the wedding, and that's only six weeks away. We gave Grace the three months she asked for to pull everything together but Christian is all about rush, rush, rush. I think he's afraid that I'll change my mind.

Fat chance, Mr. Grey. You are most definitely stuck with me.

...

She slithers right up to me in her way too tight silver sequin cocktail dress. Obviously she didn't dress for the theme. "So you managed it, didn't you? Ensnared him in your web? I was so sure he'd gotten you out of his system when the two of you broke up last year. Apart from that long-winded text you sent him, you two hadn't spoken in a long time, right?"

I gasp so hard I nearly choke, and have to cough it out. Now I know why Christian never saw my text. What a bitch. "How did you know about my text? Did you read it?"

"Yes, I did. Christian and I were out on a date. He showed it to me and I deleted it."

I shake my head, my lips tight. She's such a lying bitch that I want to strangle her until she's dead… but then I'll have to have my wedding in prison, and orange is not a good color for me at all. "Tsk. You're lying, Antonia. Christian wouldn't date you if you were the last woman on earth. Nor would he show you my text. Moreover, he claims he never got it, so I'm thinking you somehow got to his phone and deleted it." I lean in, my eyes narrowed with loathing. "But ha ha, it didn't work. I'm still marrying him, and you're not. In fact, he can't stand you."

Her eyes flash fire at me. "You can choose to believe whatever you like, but I told you the truth. And you're a liar. Christian adores me."

I laugh—genuinely, because she is so deluded it's actually funny. "Yeah, it's the truth according to a deluded, desperate, and pathetic woman. You're nothing but a sore loser."

Mia must have noticed something is going on for she nearly trots over. "Toni, are you misbehaving? After crashing the party, no less?" Mia is looking at her friend with wary eyes.

"Not at all. Ana and I were just having a friendly chat."

"A chat about what," Mia persists.

"What else? Your gorgeous brother."

Mia's hands fly to her hips and she tilts her head. "I happen to have three gorgeous brothers but I'm thinking you're referring to the one about to be married to this darling and also gorgeous woman. Are you allowing your jealousy to give Ana a hard time?"

Toni turns her wrath on her friend. "If you were a good friend to me, Mia, you would hate her too. Christian is mine. I found him first, and I love him."

As I snicker at her, Mia merely rolls her eyes. "Toni, that's not how it works. I mean, I called dibs on Liam Hemsworth a long while back and it got me nowhere. Men are difficult that way—they want to have a say in it, you know? Anyway, leave Ana alone or I'll have to have one of those hunky bouncers over there eyeing us toss you. Or would you like me to do that?" she asks with a devilish glint in her eyes.

Now my blood pressure is soaring and I feel all jittery. I go in search of Kate, grabbing a flute of champagne on my way across the room. The waiter gives me a smile and wink and I smile back. I chug down the Perrier Jouet in two swallows, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand like a mannerless heathen—which I am often—and hurry to Kate.

"C'mon, let's dance. I have to burn off my nervous energy."

"Why?" Kate's eyes narrow. "What happened?"

"That effing bitch Antonia showed up, despite not being invited. She has some fucking nerve. Now I know why Christian never saw my text that time."

Kate huffs and grabs my hand. "Well, screw her, Ana. This is your party and we are going to have some fun. Let's get more champagne and then dance for a while. At least until those hunky servers start to undress."

"What do you mean, start to undress?"

"Ha. Couldn't you tell? They're all strippers," she cackles at the shock on my face.

"I did notice that they are all exceptionally built but how did Mia get them to serve as waiters first?"

"Sweetie, with enough greenbacks you can get anyone to do anything pretty much. Plus, I'm sure they're having fun, flirting with all the pretty women."

"What about you, Kate? Are you flirting?"

"Uh-uh, no way. I have a death sentence hanging over my head if I flirt. I'm going to be good all night and will even close my eyes when they strip."

I'm not sure if I should laugh or cry. Is she serious? "Will they take it all off, do you think? And will they embarrass me in particular?"

"I think Mia instructed them not to get too close to you or her brother would have a coronary."

"Oh good. But wait. Her brother isn't here so why should that matter?"

"Yeah, well… Mia has a feeling that Christian might show up precisely for that reason. She figured better safe than sorry. As to your question of whether they'll take it all off," she leans in, "I think so." The grin on her face is bright enough to light the night outside and I can't help laughing, the bitch Antonia now entirely forgotten.

When the waiters start to strip, I look around. The lights are down in most of the place with just the different colored spotlights on the men. They've moved the chairs to the sides to create more room for their dance. Kate and I are sitting together, determined not to get in any trouble with our Grey men. Good thing, too, for just as they're down to their tighty whiteys I feel a hand on my shoulder. I whip my head around and there he is.

Christian.

Mia knows her brothers well. He's with Elliot and the two of them are grinning. "I don't think so, Ana. It's time for you to leave your party."

Leave? "What? I can't leave now."

"Oh yes, you can. And you are. No naked men in your future. Well, just one."

"You too, Kate," Elliot says and pulls her off the chair from behind. "We're here to keep you both honest."

"I'm honest. I'm honestly pissed that you crashed my bachelorette party. Now I'll crash yours." I can hear the slur in my voice so I know they can too. Perhaps I've had just a tiny tot too much?

"You can crash any party of mine anytime, baby. Elliot and I decided that rather than get ourselves sick and in trouble potentially, we just went to a lounge with some friends and had cigars and cognac. So I'm afraid there's nothing for you to crash. Now come on. We're leaving. The briefs are about to come off and you don't need to see that, do you?"

"Aw, c'mon. Just a quick peek."

Even as the words are leaving my mouth I'm being towed out of the place, Elliot pulling Kate right behind us. Some bachelorette party. I have to leave at the best part.

When the fresh air hits me outside I begin to sober up a little. That's when I see Antonia. She's leaning against the front of the building, smoking a cigarette with another woman. When she sees me with Christian, her back goes stiff. "Look who's upset you're here with me, Christian."

He looks over and spots her. "What the hell is she doing here? We specifically told Mia not to invite her."

"Yeah, well, she crashed the party. Lots of crashers tonight. She wanted to tell me how much she loves you."

He scowls, disgust etched into his face. "What a loser. I'm sorry, Ana."

"No worries," I hold up my hand and almost lose my balance. "But now I know what happened to the text I sent you."

"What do you mean? What happened to it?"

"She read it and then deleted it, Christian. She admitted it to me. Though she told me you showed it to her while on a date."

"She's a fucking liar, baby. That never happened."

"I know, Christian. What I would like to know is how she got to your phone."

"Offhand, I couldn't tell you. Maybe I put it down at my parents' house and she picked it up. Still, I have it locked." He shook his head, grimacing. "To think of all the grief she caused me in not seeing that text. We may have reconciled a lot sooner..."

I pat his face. "We're together now. That's all that matters."

...

It's a form-fitting white silk sheath. The top looks like a very sexy camisole and it tapers down to my ankles in a streamlined fashion—though not so tight that it inhibits walking. It fits me like a glove, accentuating my narrow waist and hips—and, of course, enhances my tatas since the top pushes them up a bit. An embroidered white lace overlay goes on top and has a fairly high neckline and long sleeves, toning down the sexiness. If you don't look closely it almost looks demure and virginal. From the back of the gown, from the waist down, a pouf of tulle flows down into a long train so I have the aesthetic benefit of a full-skirted gown without the drawbacks though the lace from the upper thighs down is voluminous enough to swish around my legs. Sewn into the lace overlay—sparingly—are tiny Swarovski crystals that catch the light, making the dress sparkle, adding to the shiny satin embroidery of flowers that sparingly adorn the overlay.

The veil also sports the crystals. It sits right on my head like a scarf would, and is very sheer. Only the front edge is embellished with fine lacy embroidery. I've never seen anything more beautiful in my life. The crystals are sewn into the embroidery here and there to make it twinkle. Kent told us to call him as soon as the dress is on so he could handle the veil and finishing touches.

Someone bangs on the door and my mom goes to answer it. I hear her voice growing stern and then I hear a wickedly sexy deep voice… the kind of voice that transmutes all my innards into fluid—my soon-to-be husband's voice. In the boardroom, so terse and decisive—some might even say arrogant. In the bedroom, dominant and impervious to my pleas. With his few close friends and family, rich and affectionate, with a thick ribbon of amusement streaming through it. Right now it's increasing in volume with every word so I know an argument is brewing. What the hell?

Mom stomps over in exasperation. "Ana, your very stubborn fiancé insists that you come to the door to speak with him. You're going to have to take off the dress. It's bad luck otherwise."

"Mom, I just have the first part on. I'll just throw on a robe, okay?" I look around at my half-drunken bridesmaids. "Anyone have a robe?" They all shake their heads. "Kimono?"

None. For Christ's sake.

Pfft, fine! I gingerly wiggle out of the tight part of the dress, leaving me in a very skimpy bra, even skimpier panties, and the silk stockings he so loves, this time in white. I tiptoe on the thick carpet to the door of the suite, accompanied by my mother's gasps of shock, and open it very slightly.

And there he stands, chokingly, breathtakingly handsome in his perfect tuxedo that fits him as if it were made around his body by genius tailors. Which it was.

When I finally suck enough oxygen into my lungs to speak, I say, "You're not here to tell me you've changed your mind?"

He rolls his eyes. "Baby, if I'd changed my mind, I'd book—not stand here and face your wrath up close and personal." He chuckles, eyeing my lingerie. "You look beautiful but that wedding outfit is a bit daring, don't you think? At least you're not wearing a thong. Do they make bridal thongs?"

I slap his arm. "Of course they do. Who would want a thong more than a bride, for heaven's sake? OK, well maybe a stripper but no one else."

"Yes, well, now I have to wait in front of all our guests with a major boner."

I wag my finger in his face. "Your fault." I shimmy my girls at him and he grins. "What's the problem, Christian?"

"No problem." He reaches into the inside pocket of his tux jacket. "I just wanted to give this to you," he says, handing me a long satin box. My jewelry-seeking sense—it operates much like a heat-seeking missile—tells me it's a pricey bauble and I tear off the white grosgrain ribbon to get this box open. When I do, my jaw drops open at what twinkles back at me.

"Oh my God, it is exquisite, Christian. Your taste is impeccable."

He screws up his luscious lips. "I'd very much like to claim the compliment but I can't. Kent told me what would complement your gown and I heeded him." He flashes me a guilty look.

Patting his cheek, I reassure him, "Good boy. Kent has unerring taste and after all, he designs the frocks so he knows what will go well with them." I turn around and swing my hair to one side to enable him to clasp the jewelry around my neck. Because the lace overlay neckline is rather high, Kent selected a thin choker of diamonds and platinum to help the crystals in the dress and veil with the sparkle.

"Now," he says, as he expertly fastens the choker, "Kent may have selected this trinket, but take note that it awfully resembles a BDSM collar, my love. So you might keep that in mind as you feel it around your throat, holding you tight." He winks at my startled expression and mouths the words I own you.

"You're collaring me, like a German shepherd?" My screech was loud enough to chance others hearing it.

"Not like a German shepherd," he says in a soft voice so he can't be overheard. "More like my own personal sex slave."

I wait for his accompanying smile but all I see is serious heat in his eyes. I feel my body respond to the nonverbal cues he's zinging my way. "Stop it," I spit out in a just barely whisper. "You're going to get me all swampy for my wedding. You do know I'm getting married in less than an hour, right?"

"Lucky man," he says and offers me an ear-to-ear grin. He knows he just got my tiny little panties messy, the bastard.

It's time to call Kent. When we put the dress on again, and added the overlay the room went silent. I look around anxiously, afraid they hate it. "Well? Don't leave me hanging like this…"

My mother claps her hands to her lips. "Oh my darling daughter, that man knows how to design for you. It's perfect," she says, her eyes welling up.

I point my finger in her direction and, furrowing my forehead, look at her through my eyebrows. "Don't you dare, Mom. My makeup is done and I don't want to mess it up."

As if on cue, Kent arrives with a loud rap at the door and my mother hurries away to answer it. Kent steps in and is immediately assaulted with an eager hug from my mother.

"You are an amazing designer, Mr. Gable. My daughter looks gorgeous!"

Chuckling, he looks toward me. "Your daughter always looks gorgeous because she is a beautiful woman."

He comes closer and shakes his head. "Ana, I've never seen a more beautiful bride. And I see your hunky groom got the right jewelry. Very nice. Are you ready for the veil?"

I nod nervously. I'm all dressed but for the veil. A minute ago, I slipped on the pretty satin slingbacks. Kent had designed 1920s shoes to go with my dress but they made such a big statement, with white ribbon ties and straps across the bridge of the foot that we both decided it would be best to go with the elegant slingbacks, even though they were designed with a more modern sensibility. My mother loaned me vintage diamond earrings and Kate had a blue garter—don't ask me why; with Kate it's best not to know too much—so I covered all the bases, and I am ready for the veil now. The ceremony is slated to begin in eleven minutes and my heart has taken off and is zooming to the moon.

Kent looks at Dana, the hairdresser he hired. "You did good, girl. Exactly how I envisioned it."

My long hair is parted on the side, sleek with soft crimps flowing down the tresses. Yesterday there was a discussion on the hairstyle, and we had to ultimately decide between two contenders: the long, loose hair I have now with the 1920s' crimps, or a very soft updo, the bottom curled up loosely around my head—also 1920s-ish. Apparently it was Kent's favorite decade for fashion and I'm his flapper muse. Ultimately he decided on the loose hair for my comfort.

Now he comes closer, holding something in his hand. "What do you have there, mister?"

"Wait until you see," he says, chuckling. He puts something on my head and I see the excited faces of my girls. "What is it?"

"Just a little finishing touch. Look," he says, holding up a mirror.

He's tied a small band around my head, 1920s' style, of course. It's lace and its embroidery matches my veil, which goes on top. "I love it, Kent! It's perfect."

Now I'm all ready. Oh God, can I actually pull this off?