APOV

"I'm sore," Christian groans and rolls to his side, his arm outstretched across our bed, "and if I'm sore, you've got to be in some serious pain." I am, but after five days apart, you won't hear me complaining about a little bit of overuse.

"I'm going to go take care of that right now with a bath before the stylists get here. Want to join me?" His eyes remain closed but his hand flicks up absently.

"I'll be right in."

But 30 minutes and a full on shower later he's still not made an appearance. I've showered, shaved and exfoliated to Franco's exacting standards but remain undressed to let this super thick, shimmery lotion dry. I'm only a bit amused that it's got what appears to be gold dust in it. Devin will be thrilled.

In our room the shades are open letting in the late afternoon sun and there, on the bed in all his glory, is a man who closely resembles a Greek God naked and spread out on his belly snoring loudly. The sheets have been pulled from the corners of the mattress, the duvet and pillows long abandoned on the floor. We went from desperate to loving to fucking to loving to fucking and back again.

His back lifts on a deep breath, the muscles popping up under smooth skin and then he ruins the moment by snoring again. Poor guy, he deserves a little nap since he's done most of the heavy lifting for the past 10 hours.

That stops me. Ten hours. Of almost constantly having this man inside me. No wonder my inner thighs are chaffed and my hip joints hurt. Even the skin on my butt where he...ahem...spanked me is tender when the robe brushes against it. After admiring him in his current state of disheveled sex god I head to the kitchen and cut up some cheese, placing it on a tray with crackers, hummus and grapes. We've kind of eaten throughout the day but peanut butter and jelly or yogurts haven't exactly filled either one of us up.

The plan, as it stands now, is to meet at Franco's salon at precisely 7:30. All of the Grey's are to walk the red carpet together so as to increase the impact of their presence. I'm a bit apprehensive at the reaction I'll get when Christian sees the gown Franco, Casey and Devin have picked out for me but if impact is what he's going for with this PR push, impact is what he'll get.

As if he knows I'm thinking about him he appears, naked and sleep wrinkled. Adorable as he looks, the man is in desperate need of a shower.

"You reek of sex."

He grins and reaches for a cracker. "You say that as if it's a bad thing."

"Not bad, but not good either. Go shower, the crew will be here in twenty minutes to start getting us ready." When he reaches for me I squeal and duck behind the counter swatting at his hands while he laughs and watches. "Seriously, you smell like sex and sleep and sweat and I just had a shower!" Right before he turns the corner to the hallway he leans back and smirks.

"Have you seen the sheets? I told you we'd ruin them!"

While he showers I strip the bed and throw the offending Egyptian cotton into the washing machine, texting Gail to ask her to switch them while we're gone. It feels funny asking her to do anything on my behalf but she insists I do it. I don't think I'll ever let her do my laundry but since changing the sheets is something I've never particularly enjoyed, I will happily hand that off to her. However, leaving her to find them in the condition they were in, absolutely not.

When the shower stops I walk into the bathroom with two iced teas and get in position while Christian towels off, whistling the theme song to the Brady Bunch. He laughs when he sees me on the vanity and kisses my nose affectionately.

"You really do like to watch me shave, huh?"

"So much so that I watched Devin and Casey yesterday. It didn't quite have the same effect though." That smile, the one he reserves just for me makes an appearance and warms me straight through the robe I've got on.

He lathers the cream in his hands and spreads it over his face and down his neck, wrinkling his nose when some tickles him. "I was thinking about growing a mustache."

"Why?" He shrugs and swipes the blade up his neck, rinsing the cream in the sink. I swear to god the sound of it makes my womb clench.

"To change things up a bit. I thought maybe it would feel good for you when I'm going down on you." I blush, furiously and immediately. "Really, Anastasia?" He deadpans, "You're going to blush after what we just spent the entire day doing? You licked my cum off of my stomach for God's sake, a mustache shouldn't embarrass you at all."

"You jerk!" I snort out, smacking at his chest.

"Yes, it was right after you jerked"

"Christian Trevelyan Grey! Stop that! Oh my god!" He just keeps on laughing and shaving.

"Fine, I'll stop but only because it's time to get ready and I'll be damned if anyone is going to see that sweet blush of yours. Are you happy with the dress you chose?" He's too busy rinsing his face to see my eyes widen.

"About the dress," I start, twisting my hands in my lap. He stands, watches me carefully and pats his skin dry.

"Yes?" He asks warily.

"It's a bit of an attention getter." The towel drops to the counter.

"As in?"

"It's cut to enhance my chest." Shit, he does not look happy. One hip leans against the counter and his arms cross, one arm coming out to wave me on, encouraging me to elaborate. "It's cut low. I mean, you can't see my nipples or anything but you can see my cleavage. A lot of it too."

"Do you have other suitable dresses that aren't so revealing?" His tone is firm and demanding even though he shoots for casual, reaching for a hairbrush but not looking in the mirror.

"I do," I answer slowly testing the waters, "but I would like to wear this dress since everything has been planned around it." He looks heavenward and walks towards the door.

"If I'm not comfortable with it, you'll change." And with that he effectively ends the conversation.

"No, take them off. Annie you look like a Gypsy whore with those fake lashes on. Off off off!"

The makeup artist, a woman named Chrissy, makes to argue with him but thinks better of it, snapping her mouth shut and reaching for her tweezers.

"Quickly before the glue dries! All she needs is a few more swipes of mascara and she'll be perfection."

Devin, on a good day, is a whirlwind. He's got no filter, boundary issues, and more opinions than Carter has liver pills. So getting ready for a red carpet affair that he's sure to be photographed at, well, let's just say there's a hurricane in the guest room at the Escala penthouse. Amongst a flurry of fabric he mutters and curses, pissed that he can't find the exact color hand kerchief to match his bow tie. Little by little his voice raises until my shoulders tense, ready for the onslaught that is fashion frustrated Devin.

But just as his voice reaches a fever pitch, Casey walks in, dressed in a tux that looks as if it were tailored specifically to him even though it's a rental. His surfer good looks clash with the formality of his attire but somehow that just adds to the appeal. Devin's attention shifts from mismatched accessories to his boyfriend in a nanosecond. "Shiiiit."

"Wow, Case, you look really good." His face lights up and he turns to me, the cologne he wears wafting through the room.

"Out. Everybody out," Devin barks, his eyes never leaving Casey.

"But the eyelashes, I need to"

"I don't give a fuck about the eyelashes anymore. Glue them to her forehead for all I care just get your shit and give us ten minutes."

Casey winks and opens the door, "Twenty."

Dumped unceremoniously into the hallway with Chrissy and Marcello, the hair stylist, I lead them to the bathroom off of the kitchen and let them finish me there. Marcello tuts and sprays, tucking here and curling there until he finally steps back and clasps his hands together. "La perfection absolue." I'm not allowed to see it yet but I know it's some sort of up do with lots of bobby pins and hairspray, two things I've used a total of three times in my life.

Chrissy finishes my face with a few more swipes of mascara and steps back with Marcello to confer. After a few seconds they agree I look presentable and take off the black towel from around my shoulders with a flourish. I've never had someone do my makeup for me so when she steps back and turns me towards the mirror I'm blown away.

I look good. Like, really good. My eyes are lined with black kohl and look seductive as hell. This is where the term 'bedroom eyes' was coined from I bet. My skin is still light but she's applied a shimmer of bronzing powder that highlights cheekbones I didn't even know I had. But it's the lips that get to me. In my naïve world sexy lips mean red lipstick. Right? Wrong. So wrong.

Instead of color Chrissy has applied a golden copper colored shimmer and overlaid it with gloss. I was skeptical when I saw her dab at the tube in her hand and apply it but now that I see it on, the woman is a genius.

"You'll do my makeup for every event from now on, ok?" I whisper, staring at my mouth as it moves. "And you, you'll do my hair, ok?"

"Of course, I'm so glad you like it. I didn't want to overpower your natural beauty. You've got skin to die for so I wanted to do as little as possible to it." I can't take my eyes off of myself. This must be what narcissists feel like.

When I hear Kate and Elliot I rush out of the bathroom and burst into our room, yelling at Christian not to look at me yet. He startles but covers his eyes and stands still as stone, clearly confused as to what he's supposed to be doing. His shirt is half buttoned and untucked but the rest of him is dressed. Even like that with one hand covering his eyes he looks ridiculously hot.

"Ana? Why can't I look at you?" Quick as I can I rush past him and into the closet closing the door to answer him from behind the heavy mahogany.

"Because I want you to see me when I'm all finished getting ready. Kate and Elliot are in the great room and Devin and Casey should be ready soon. Don't go knock on their door though, they'll come out when they're done. Ready! They'll come out when they're ready!" I can just imagine what would come out of Devin's mouth if he were interrupted mid-screw.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine, go wait with your brother, I'll be right out. I think Gail made cocktails. Could you send Kate back to zip me up?"

"Ooookay, I'll be in the great room."

Less than a minute later Kate knocks on the closet door just as I pull the dress up over my shoulders, whistling at me as she does a once over. "You look awesome, Ana. Man, your tits are ridiculous! I don't remember them being so big!" I swat at her hand as she reaches for them and turn so she can buckle the thick gold belt around my waist. "Christian is going to go bonkers when he sees you in this."

"I'm a bit nervous he'll want me to take it off." She throws her head back in laughter.

"He will but not because he hates it! Even I want to sleep with you right now. Listen, leave his jealousy to me, just stand there and bat your eyelashes at him. If all else fails promise him a blow job when you get home. Works every time for his brother."

"Eww. So didn't need to know that."

"What? If you're not using the power of the bj, then you're missing out. My mom's theory is that God gave men more physical strength but then gave them penis's to balance it all out. You own the penis, you own the man."

"Kate, I…I literally don't know what to say to you right now."

"Trust me, Ana. I know what I'm talking about. Blow jobs make the world go round." It takes a bit of prodding on Kate's part but I finally walk into the great room where the four men are enjoying the cocktails that Gail has prepared. Chrissy and Marcello are both staring at the group as if they were celebrities. The truth is, between the four of them, they could easily grace the cover of a fashion magazine. I am a lucky, lucky girl.

All four turn to look when they hear the click of our heels but my eyes are glued to Christian. His lips part, his jaw dropping slightly before he blinks twice and shuts it.

"Wow," is all he can manage but that small bit of triumph flits out the window when his eyes settle on my cleavage. For a split second I think I'm in the clear but then his eyes snap back up to mine, the anger flashing fast and fierce. "Ana," he starts in a low timbre but Kate pushes in front of me, reaching up to wipe an imaginary fuzz from Elliot's shoulder.

"Doesn't she look great? I mean, my god, if publicity is what we're going after tonight then you can be sure you're going to get it with her looking like that and you looking like," her hand goes up and down, "that." He doesn't even acknowledge her.

Devin, Casey and Elliot begin to compliment both Kate and I but are cut short by Christian who steps forward, hands his glass to his brother and comes to me.

"A moment, Ana." When his hand grips my arm and steers me to our room it's not done roughly but the underlying hostility is there nonetheless. "Are you out of your mind? I can see all the way to your sternum!" His face turns a bit red with anger but then his eyes kind of glaze over, the tension that was so strong fading as quickly as it came.

One long finger traces the interior curve of my breast and presses where the fabric meets up. "Don't get me wrong," his voice turns husky and deep, "I love this dress. And you were right, it's definitely an attention getter." He swallows thickly and blinks again. "But I want you to wear it for me and only for me."

It's time for some female persuasion.

"Baby," I purr, his heavy lidded eyes not even looking up from my chest, "I love this dress. I want to wear it and Kate is right. If we want to really get the kind of coverage that will screw Elena over, then being photographed in a killer dress with a man like you next to me will do just that." When he says nothing I press on, "And the point of the dress was to highlight the hair…it being for a salon and all and…and this dress is perfect for that because of the way the…are you listening to me at all?"

His lips purse as he thinks but that finger continues to trace my skin and despite having had sex numerous times today, despite the Vaseline I had to rub on my inner thighs to soothe the skin there and despite a roomful of people waiting for our reemergence, my nipples tighten, my heart rate picks up and my panties dampen. When it comes to Christian Grey, feminism is dead.

"Ana, against my better judgment I'll let you wear this but I swear to god, if you so much as lean over I'm going to go bull shit. No man, scratch that, no person is to stand closer than one foot from you and you are not, for any reason, to stand sideways on red carpet." His hands cover my breasts on a groan. "And for god's sake put these nipples away."

So I ignore the part where he says he'll let me wear the dress and give myself a mental high five for working that out without a fight. I let him grope me a bit more and lean up to suck his ear lobe, a trick I've learned he likes a lot, and then open the door. On the way back to the great room he scoffs behind me, "Wouldn't want to take attention away from the hair now would we?"

Kate catches my eye and pushes her tongue against her cheek in a mock blow job which cracks me up. Devin catches her and snorts.

"I see you talked to Casey."

Outside of the salon is a real red carpet and one of those wallpaper things with Franco's name all over it in gold script. Franco himself is being interviewed by a reporter, a giddy and infectious smile on his face. In the limo we've cracked open the champagne which helps to take the edge off of my nerves. I've walked a red carpet one time before and it was with Christian before we were even dating. It was not exactly something I enjoyed.

Debra from GEH's PR team opens the door and calls for Devin and Casey who exit as if they own the place, walking right up to Franco to kiss his cheeks as if they were old friends. Elliot and Kate go next to incite the paparazzi. The whole thing is so insane to me that I can't help but feel stupid but I do get a perverse sense of satisfaction watching these people go crazy for my friend. Kate's a natural out there, turning and posing, kicking up her heel on a laugh while she leans into Elliot's chest.

Mia appears next to them in a sequined pink dress and a sleek bobbed hair cut. She drags Ethan with her and kisses Franco on the cheek before blowing a kiss to the crowd a few feet away. When Grace and Carrick take their place Christian motions for me to follow him and knocks on the window. Debra gives me a once over and a thumbs up, mouthing 'oh my god, stunning' before speaking into her head set.

Christian's hand pulls me up and Debra adjusts the back of my dress before signaling for us to walk. My nerves are shot to shit but then Christian leans down and presses his hand to my lower back, brushing that spot behind my ear with his lips at the same time. "You look radiant, Anastasia. Absolutely gorgeous." For a moment the world around me calms and it's just me and him.

And then the cameras spot us and the place goes nuts. What was just a calm crowd of photographers and reporters turns into a circus complete with screaming and yelling. I hear my name being called over and over along with Christian's. There are demands to see the ring interspersed with questions about the wedding and the engagement. To my right someone yells about my pregnancy and I blanche, caught off guard by such audacity but then I notice Sawyer make his way to a man in the crowd and audacity turns to satisfaction. I fight the urge to flip the guy the middle finger.

For his part, Christian plays it cool holding my hand and standing in the middle of the walkway, one hand on my lower back. The gesture is soothing, an anchor of sorts in the chaos of the moment. Occasionally he presses his lips to my temple or cups my butt through the thin cream fabric, always moving me so that I'm facing straight ahead.

When calls come from the sides for pictures he turns me and presses me against his chest, turning his face to the crowd to deliver that panty dropping smile that literally…makes women want to drop their panties. Me included. His hands roam a bit more over my derrière until he leans down and whispers, "Do you have panties on, Ms. Steele?"

"Yes."

"Thongs?"

"Yes."

"Lace?"

"Yes." He growls and pulls me tighter.

"Are they really small?" I smile and pull back a bit to watch his reaction.

"Miniscule." Against my belly I feel him grow.

"You'll pay for that," he hisses, moving his hand between us to adjust himself discreetly. Oh, please please make me pay for that.

After a beat the calls of my name get to be too much so he and Debra steer me to a young woman in the front. She greets us by name and moves to allow her photographer to take a close up before glancing at her tablet in front of her. I thought he didn't grant interviews?

"Ms. Steele, how does it feel to be engaged to a man like the one standing next to you?" What a stupid question. I glance at Christian thinking he's going to pull me away but he prods me to answer.

"Great. He's an amazing man."

"Have you made any wedding plans yet?" Again Christian encourages me to answer. What in the world is going on?

"We've chosen a date and a place but we're keeping it under wraps." He and Debra smile at me, clearly pleased with my answer.

"Tell us what was going through your head when THE Christian Grey asked you to marry him?" My mouth opens to answer but Christian cuts me off, leaning in and answering for me.

"The word yes," he jokes, effectively squashing the question before steering me to where his family is standing. The cameras click wildly while we say hello to everyone and then we're arranged with Franco in the middle, flanked by Grace and Christian. That is no accident. If Christian is the King of Seattle, then Grace is the Queen Mother.

The family moves to the side but Christian stays, pulling me next to him. The story everyone will read about will be how Christian Grey is investing in this salon so I move to the side to allow the two of them to be photographed alone after a few shots of me have been taken. A few seconds later he walks away and motions for Kate and Ethan who take their places on either side of Franco and ham it up for the cameras. Having the Kavanagh siblings of Kavanagh Media Group on your roster can't hurt business either.

Devin and Casey go next, the three men looking dapper in their tuxes. I swear to god I almost expect Devin to start handing out business cards with the correct spelling of his name on them.

"It was nice of you to invite them." Christian shrugs and reaches for a glass of wine.

"It was good business. It doesn't matter how high end your salon is, if you don't have the gays, you don't have the reputation." And I laugh because he's absolutely right. When the three men are finished I turn to walk inside but Christian holds my arm and nods towards Franco. "You don't want to miss this picture."

A group of men and women, 13 in all, line up and throw their arms around Franco, laughing and posing for the camera. I have no idea why I'd care about this particular group but Christian looks triumphant as does Grace and Mia who have come to watch from behind the curtain with us.

"What's the big deal with those people?" Grace takes a deep breath, puffs up her chest and straightens her shoulders.

"Those were all the top stylists at Esclava. They work exclusively for Franco now." She turns, kisses Christian on the cheek and boldly pats his chest. "Elena Lincoln is as good as dead in this town after tonight." Inwardly I cringe when I see Kate watching the entire exchange. At this point, I have no doubt she's put the pieces together but to her credit she just smiles and takes my hand, leading me into the party without so much as a word.

Inside, the salon has been decked out to look nothing like a hair studio. Instead it looks like a ritzy reception hall complete with black tie wait staff and enough candles to light the Vatican on Easter Sunday. This may be Franco's party but the attention is all on Christian. I should be used to this by now, the constant demand for his attention from every angle but I'm not. I find it suffocating and unnerving.

"I don't know how you do this."

"What?" He queries, leaning down to run his nose along my neck. "I really like this dress, baby."

"I know, you haven't stopped looking at it," I tease. "I meant how do you deal with constantly having to engage people in conversation? How do you not lose your shit after being asked the same damn question a hundred times in one night?"

"I ignore most people to start with. The ones I do speak to almost always are business ally's or are somehow related to my family. Some are old family friends, those are the ones I tolerate the best. But you see Taylor over there and Reynolds right there?" I look and for the first time see the two CPO's in their tuxes, politely blocking entrance into our little area. "They do the dirty work. Occasionally someone gets past them but for the most part, they tell everyone to take a hike. Speaking of someone getting past..."

"Bro. Let the girl mingle." Elliot saunters over in a tux and bright red bow tie that somehow suits him. Christian, as per the norm, ignores him entirely. Never one to be deterred he carries on, handing me a Prosecco with a wink. "What's on the agenda for tomorrow? What time are we meeting? I'll tell you what, this is the first Labor Day I'm not bitching about having to spend it on Dad's boat. An entire day to check out my chick? Hell yeah. I mean, look at her! God damn she is one fine little thing!"

"We've got a thing in the morning at nine but we should be to the house by 10:30. Is Mia bringing Ethan?" Both men turn and watch with disgust as Ethan pulls Mia against him by her butt eliciting a giggle from her and a gagging noise from Elliot.

"Yup. Can't wait. Mia in a bikini with Ethan Kavanagh trying to cop a feel. If I weren't going to be tied to him forever I'd throw him overboard with a bucket of chum and hope for a shark attack." His eyes go wide and meet mine, a slow smile spreading across my face.

"Forever, huh? When would this be happening?" Elliot looks at Christian and shrugs.

"I'm surprised lover boy didn't already tell you." He leans in conspiratorially and whispers, "Before the year is over that woman will be wearing my ring. And before next year is over she'll be wearing my baby." At this Christian's head snaps up, his brows furrowed.

"She wants a baby right away? Kate?" Elliot shrugs and stands up.

"I don't know. But I'm thirty one. I need to get this show on the road soon." At this he sees someone in the crowd and excuses himself to speak with them, ignoring the line of women in his wake who stare as he walks by.

"Does Kate want kids?" Christian asks, an edge to his question I'm a bit surprised by.

"I've no idea. We're 22, I doubt she's even thinking about it." His head cocks to the side as he turns me so that my back is to the room and my attention is soley on him.

"You're almost 23. You really haven't thought about children yet? We're getting married in a month, we've bought a house. We're financially stable and committed to each other. You really haven't thought about it?" Ummm...

My body begins to heat up with a prickle of fear. This is important to him, how I answer this is very important to him. Is he thinking about having kids right away? Is he expecting that?

"I…no, I really hadn't considered it being in the realm of possibility for the next few years for us. I want to"

"Ana," he interrupts, his face suddenly very much the CEO, "I'm 29. How long do you expect me to wait to start a family? How has this topic not even crossed your mind?" Oh my god oh my god oh my god I'm going to puke. He wants this now.

"29 is not old, Christian and I'm only 23. I want to be married for a few years before we have a family. Travel, build up Feed the Nations, maybe branch my"

"This is not the forum to have this conversation." He interrupts again rudely, his mouth in a thin line, his fingers tight around my left arm.

"You're the one who brought it up!" I sputter, stunned, literally stunned at the tone of his voice and the anger radiating from him.

"And I'm shutting it down." He moves towards Taylor, dropping my arm as if it were on fire and turns at the last minute, "I can't believe you haven't even thought of it." And then he's gone, ushering Taylor towards the back of the room and motioning for Sawyer to move closer to me. I feel as if I just went through a washing machine of emotions. What the hell was that all about?

Seeing an opportunity, Kate dances over, making me laugh with a really bad impression of Michael Jackson's 'Thriller'. "Steele, let me ask you a question."

"Not now, Kate."

"It's an easy one." My eyes involuntarily roll but I turn to her nonetheless.

"Shoot."

"Is Elena Lincoln the reason Elliot and Mia are so upset?"

"Kate," I begin, the tone of my voice matching up to same one Christian just used on me.

"This whole," her hand waves around, "party. The investment into Franco's salon, the appearance of the entire Grey family, the ex-employees of Esclava, the over the top press for a salon opening, it's to screw her over right?"

"It's complicated, Kate. And now is definitely not the time to get into it."

"But it's no coincidence that all of this is happening at the same time your fiancé pulled his investment and severed ties with her and Grace is no longer friends with her. I won't ask anymore, I'll drop it as of this minute but I want to know, once and for all, if Elena Lincoln is the reason my boyfriend can't watch Datelines 'To Catch a Predator' anymore."

Beneath her forced hard exterior I see the underlying motivation to her question. Elliot is clearly suffering and she's watching it happen. She's hiding behind Reporter Kate but I know her well enough to know that her interrogation isn't for a story, it's for her peace of mind.

Fuck she's good. But really, isn't it obvious at this point? If you're in this fishbowl that is the Grey family, isn't it crystal clear that this woman is hated? I don't answer but I don't look away either. She nods once, my refusal to deny her claim proof enough.

For the remainder of the evening I'm bereft of Christian's company. I know where he is at any given moment since he's never too far away, no doubt so he can watch what I'm doing and who's talking to me but even that shouldn't be of concern to him. No man outside of his family and my gay friends have been allowed entrance into my space. The company I have kept has been enjoyable enough but being out of synch with Christian puts a damper on the entire evening so much so that when he finally acknowledges me and motions for me to leave with him I scurry over like a dog looking for its owner. Pathetic. Pull your shit together, Steele.

In the limo he ushers me in, polite as ever in front of the cameras and then sits sullenly the entire ride home, throwing me the occasional half interested glance. Inside the anger builds up slowly with each rotation of the tires, each silent minute. Anger is good, anger is better than groveling and since I have done nothing wrong, anger is all I've got right now.

We're still quiet in the elevator but the energy between us is alive and well, hanging around us like a thick cloud of desire. My heels are in my hands when the door opens and my feet are halfway to the bedroom when he calls my name. I debate ignoring him but decide I'm not that childish and turn, shocked when I see him curl his finger at me to beckon me over.

Is he serious?

"What?"

"I didn't get to fully appreciate you in that dress tonight. I'd like to do so now."

Is he serious?

"And how would you like to do that?"

"To begin with, I'd like you to make your way to the window so you can look out at the lights of Seattle while I fuck you."

Is he serious?

"And then we'll go into the playroom where I can fully execute my gratitude."

Is he serious?

He arrogantly walks to the window, loosening his bow tie before tossing it and his jacket onto the couch. Without even turning around he says softly, "Come here, Anastasia." It hurts, but I bite down the laugh. Instead I walk straight to the bedroom and sit on a chair in the seating area, my head swimming. I need some time to cool down and process what is happening between us right now.

By the time I've cooled down enough to think coherently a half an hour has passed. Just as I begin to stand to go find him I hear his footsteps approaching, slow but demonstrative. Eventually he sits across from me and leans forward, resting his head in his hands.

"I wasn't going to punish you in the playroom. I'll never do that, I promised you that and I meant it."

"There are other forms of punishment outside of sex." I pause, collecting my scattered thoughts. "Ignoring someone for example. Making someone who loves you feel inadequate because they are not on the same page as you, throwing something out there, a huge something, and then freaking out because you don't get the answer that you want."

He sighs, leans back and closes his eyes, his hands resting on the arms of the chair. We're both quiet for a good two minutes.

"I want a baby. With you." My heart leaps into my mouth. Whether it's from the natural reaction to the man you love telling you he wants children with you or from the fear of it, I'm not sure. Either way my entire demeanor softens, the anger morphing into something a bit more manageable.

"I want that too, Christian." Air rushes from his lungs but other than that he doesn't react at all.

"I want it now, Ana." His torso twists forward again but he doesn't look at me. Instead he looks at the floor and pulls lightly at his hair. "I thought we'd get married, you'd skip your next shot at the end of October and we'd be pregnant by New Year's."

I'm an English major. I know thousands and thousands of words but I am totally at a loss in this moment. All I know is that on some level, this is painful for him to talk about. So I do the only thing I know to do and go to him, pushing him upright and settling myself across his lap. Without skipping a beat he tucks my head to his chest and then wraps his arms tightly around me. Whether or not he intentionally rests his hand against my belly I have no idea.

"Were you expecting that? To get married and have a child right away?" He makes no move to answer so I keep going. "You just recently decided that you even wanted to be a dad one day, I was expecting that you'd need some time to adjust to that."

"Ana, when I make a decision, that's the decision. When I met you and decided that I had to have you, I made it happen. When I decided I wanted to marry you, I made it happen. If I decide I want kids, I want to make it happen. I don't waver, I don't change my mind."

"But waiting a few years doesn't change that. It's just waiting." Under me he tenses with frustration so I shut my mouth and wait for him to say what it is he wants to say.

"I don't do waiting. I hate waiting. I abhor waiting."

"You waited for me," I offer meekly.

"And it damn near killed me. I want a baby with you, Ana. It's that simple. Don't you want that while we're still young? Aren't you excited about starting a family? Or am I alone in that?" Pain lances through my chest at the underlying anguish I hear.

"I do, Christian. I can't wait to have copper haired little mini-you's running around but I'm 22! I just started my company, I just started having sex for goodness sake! I'm just now beginning to feel like an adult and I'm just now starting to come to terms with being a wife! I'm not ready to add mother into the mix!"

CPOV

Mother. Anastasia as a mother. It makes my heart hurt and leap for joy in the same beat. But how can I respond to that? This woman does not play games. She doesn't mince words and she doesn't manipulate. If she says she's not ready, then she's not. We need a starting point. If I know what to expect, then I can negotiate her time frame down to something more in line with mine. Is it acceptable to negotiate the start of a family? I have no idea but I'm going to do it anyway.

"When will you be ready?"

"I…I don't know. I mean…how can I know that?" Anger and hurt and frustration begin to well up again inside.

"How can you not know? And what if you're never ready to have kids? What if in a year we have this same conversation and you say you're still not ready? What then?" In one quick move I've stood her up and walked to the window, pacing in front of it as I pull at my hair. I can't even look at her right now I'm so upset.

"Christian, calm down." I can't. "Christian, look at me." I do.

My angel in a white dress with her breasts on display stands there, her hair and makeup done up perfectly, her dress a vision. She's a vision. For the hundredth time tonight I drink her in and I can't help it, I picture her with my child growing in her body. My stomach lurches with the unbridled yearning.

"Why is it so important to you to have a baby now? Why can't we wait a year or two?" Two years!? Two years!? "What's the rush?"

"Because I'm ready to have the life I didn't know I wanted and didn't know I could have. I'm ready to close the chapter on what I thought would be my existence and start on my real life. I'm ready to create something with you that is ours, only ours. Someone who will bind us together who will be of my flesh and blood. I'm ready for our life to begin, to have something with you that's forever. I want the family I never had, Ana and I want it with you."

I sit, stupefied by the monologue I didn't know I had in me. In a rush it came out and now it sits between us, words laden with meaning and want. I half expect her to run. How could anyone take on the weight of someone like me and not become suffocated by it? But instead she goes to her knees between my own and takes my hands in hers. Her tenderness kills me.

"I want that too, Christian. All of it. I do, I just want it a little later than you do. Let me get used to being your wife first. I have no idea how to do that, I don't even know what being a wife means. I can't add on a baby yet. What if you marry me and I suck at it? Throw a baby in right off the bat and I probably will. The last thing I want to do is fail you."

"Fail me? At what?"

"Being a wife!" I'm confused. How do you fail at something you've committed yourself to?

"How would you fail at being married to me?" My heart drops. "Like an affair?" Her face twists in confusion and then she laughs, shaking that complicated up do of hair back and forth.

"Of course not! Don't be crazy. I have a mother who has been married four times. Four! Count 'em." She holds up her hand and one by one counts off, "One, two, three, four. And did I mention that she's now divorcing number four! And while I know I'm not her and I'm not going to end up like her, I also recognize the fact that wife, in my world at least, has no meaning. I know what the TV says, I know what little I've seen of marriages from the outskirt of things but to be a wife, to manage a home and take care of a husband…no idea!" Cute as fuck she throws her hands up and stands, walking backwards until she falls into the chair opposite me, a puff of air escaping her mouth.

"What happens if I fuck up? If I…I don't know…embarrass you at a function or piss you off? What happens if you wake up one day and you don't love me anymore because I suck at being a wife? I'm not one of those society girls, those parties bore me to tears! I have no idea what Carolyn Acton is talking about when she mentions designers and furthermore, I don't care. I like grilled cheese sandwiches and root beer, not filet mignon and wine I can't pronounce!"

"Ana," as much as I love when she goes off on these crazy tangents of hers, I need to set the record straight. "Ana…earth to Anastasia Rose." That gets her attention, her mouth finally quiet she puffs a breath up to blow a stray curl out of her face.

"First of all, your mother is a piece of shit. You are not your mother. You are not even remotely close to your mother. End of. Second of all, I have no idea how to be a husband so we'll learn those roles together."

"Uh huh yes you do."

"I've never been a husband before, baby. Despite what the tabloids like to say, you are, in fact, my first wife."

"Yes but you've had your dad as an example, your grandfather, your uncles. You've at least had some sort of…practice." Adorable. She's adorable.

"OK, fine. I've seen it from afar but come on, do you really think I was paying attention?" Damn I should have paid attention.

"Well…no…"

"Thirdly, I can think of no scenario in which you would embarrass me. I'm proud as fuck of you, baby. Just having you next to me is the biggest rush I've ever experienced. And I don't give a flying shit if you don't like designers or wine or whatever the hell you just said. But what really needs addressing is your unfounded fear of me falling out of love with you."

"Here's some insight into my heart, baby. I don't love you. Love isn't nearly strong enough for what I feel for you. Love; that word, has been overused, abused and manipulated to mean something else entirely. Love is not what I feel for you. I adore you, cherish you, long for you, respect you, yearn for you, delight in you, idolize you, hanker for you."

"Hanker?" She stops me, giggling at the term. I laugh with her, lifting her onto my lap again.

"Do you get it, Ana? Do you understand what my life would be like without you? I lived for 29 years but was never alive. I saw ten thousand sunsets but never noticed one of them. I took a billion breaths but never felt them. Everything in my world begins and ends with you. All of it." Her hands cup my face and stroke my jaw.

"That's the part that scares me the most, Christian. I'm afraid that if I hurt you you'll never recover." Those pretty green eyes, lined in black and sexy as hell fill with tears. "I would sooner die than hurt you."

"That's your big fear? That you'll hurt me?" She nods and buries her face into my chest. I want to laugh but I don't. Outside of leaving me, there is nothing she could do that would destroy me. How she doesn't know that I have no idea. "Damn, your mother really did a number on your head." My finger lifts her chin up so that I can kiss those soft lips. "Short of you leaving me, you can't destroy me. Just be with me. Love me for who I am and let me love you. It doesn't have to be complicated."

Her face twists. "It doesn't?" I laugh, a release of tension we both need.

"No. Life's complicated enough. Business is complicated enough. Let's let our love be the one thing that remains simple. I love you, you love me, we stay true to each other in body, mind, heart and spirit. Easy." She smiles easily for the first time since the party, a beacon that draws me in.

"OK."

"OK? All that talking and you wrap it up with an ok?" She giggles and starts to unbutton my shirt. I'm suddenly very aware of the pressure on my groin where she's squirming.

"You wanted simple. OK is as simple as it gets." I sit up so she can slide the shirt from my shoulders and try to hold back the groan when she kisses the hollow of my throat. Just as I'm about to close the chapter on talking for the night she sits up and presses one hand over my heart.

"I promise to cherish you, Christian. To safeguard your heart and your soul from all that try to hurt you. I promise to respect you and honor you and devote myself to you until my very last breath."

My eyes sting with tears unshed when she finishes speaking. The weight of her disappears as if we become one body instead of two. In my chest my heart presses against the bones holding it in place. Swelling, growing, exploding. How did I get so lucky?

Over her heart I lift my hand and press, the soft thud against my palm more comforting than all the power and money in the world. Alive, healthy, here. Mine.

"I promise my devotion to you, Anastasia. I promise to appreciate you and protect you, to carry you and walk beside you. I will worship you and hanker for you until my very last breath."

She giggles and cries all in one gasp and then gently presses her lips to mine with a smile.

"And they lived happily ever after," I whisper into her mouth.

"Yes, they did."

Author's note: The link to Ana's dress is on my profile page in my pinterest account.