CPOV

"Ana, my god, would you relax? Gail will do all of this for you, it's what I pay her to do!"

But instead of listening she huffs and waves her hand at me effectively dismissing me from my own closet. In front of her are six business outfits for our trip to Rome and a pile of casual clothes for the mini-vacation we'll go on afterwards. It's foolish, really, to be taking any time to vacation considering I was just away from the office last week, will be again for the majority of the week this week, and will be gone for three weeks at the end of the month for our honeymoon.

Honeymoon. Holy shit.

"Do I need a bathing suit? Probably not, right? Should I bring one just in case? Do I even need one really, don't they go topless over there?" Is she out of her god damned mind?

"There is no way in fuck you're going topless anywhere but in the privacy of our hotel room so forget that shit." I'm as close to yelling as you can get without actually doing it but she doesn't even pause to notice. Instead she clucks her tongue and counts the pairs of shoes she's laid out, nine to be exact, and then closes her eyes mentally going over a list. I would love to be inside that head of hers sometimes. It's got to be exhausting.

"Cinque giorni, sei notti. Almeno due cene di lavoro e quattro incontri separati. Qualcosa da indossare per il volo di ritorno..." Is she…is she speaking Italian? Must…have…sex…with that mouth…now.

She screams when I tackle her to the ground. "What are you doing?"

"Shhh, you need to give your vocal chords a rest. I've got just the thing to keep your mouth occupied for a few minutes."

Fifteen minutes later she's back to organizing a pile of accessories and lingerie pieces but she can talk all she wants now so long as she keeps doing it naked. Without words she points at things and I get them for her, amused at her excitement and at her muttering.

She is completely unfazed by my agitated grunts and sighs of frustration. Not once does she notice that I've been reduced to errand boy for her, not even when she sends me out to the kitchen in my boxers to get her an unsweetened iced tea, no lemon. Her absent minded, "Grazie," has my cock hard as granite again but she takes no notice of that either.

"Hand me that hanger, the one on the chair. No, right there!" She points and when I finally get it right she resumes her packing, completely unaware that I have made one very important discovery in the last five minutes.

When it comes to our personal life, Anastasia Steele is in charge.

"The flight is scheduled to leave at noon, Sir. If we leave any later there will be no rest time between flying and your first meeting with Shinzu and Tsang."

"And Ms. Shote is due to meet with Elena at two. If this is our big opportunity to get this out of the way, then we need to be here." How does he not see the significance in this?

Taylor paces briefly in front of my desk, probably as anxious to get home to his woman as I am but this needs attending to. I want that dossier, the pictures, the videos, anything and everything in that safe pertaining to me in my hands the minute she walks out of the salon. Not Welch's, not Taylor's or Sawyers or anyone else's.

"See if she can push it up, have her call right now and see if she can move the meeting up." He nods once, turns and walks out pushing the door a bit more aggressively than necessary. I get it, I'm a prick, the world should revolve around me. Just make this shit happen.

We've set up additional security in Rome to accompany Sawyer, Prescott, Ryan and Reynolds since after we part from the Chinese, Taylor and Gail will be flying to Napa to get married in a private ceremony. So private in fact that only his daughter and her sister will be in attendance. At first Ana was a bit hurt by it but she came around when she heard that nobody was going except two people.

Me? I'm absolutely fine missing a wedding that isn't mine. I've already arranged the private jet, the five star accommodations and the most elaborate meal plan the resort had to offer. My congratulations to the happy couple and a fat thank you for not making me go.

"Andrea!" Even as I yell it I look at and ignore the button on my desk to call her. I yell so much less these days that I find I need to do it when I can.

"Sir," Jacqueline answers, walking in, her little belly obvious in the sheath dress she's wearing today. I'm insanely jealous of her boyfriend. Or husband. Or…whoever the fuck it is that gave her that baby.

"Where's Andrea?" I snap.

"She went with Ms. Steele to order invitations, menu cards and to interview for the catering company for the wedding. I believe they're at her office now, if you need me to I can have her come back."

"No, you can do this. I need a full run down of the schedule for Rome, updated after the changes were made by Ros, a dossier on McClaresky Productions including back ground checks on each department head and the administration. I also want you to execute the last of the sell orders from Friday."

Halen has had four days to look over the massive hit his bottom line has taken and I'm sure at this point he thinks the worst of it is over but I've got four more sell orders that will annihilate his remaining stock and bring him to his knees.

Jacqueline emails me the sell confirmations and I contemplate, seriously contemplate calling the fucker just to dance on his grave. Ana calls before I can do it though.

"Hello there, are you and my assistant enjoying yourselves?"

"Yes, Andrea and I are having a lovely time choosing between off whites. Did you know there are over 20 shades of it? Freaking kill me now, Christian." I chuckle, glad to be here and not there.

"Is there a shade called vanilla?" In the background I hear her flipping through pages of paper.

"Oh my god, there is. You are so bad. Vanilla it is! See, you should have done this with me."

"So our color is vanilla? And I make a ton of money so I don't have to do this shit."

"Vanilla, golds and what I describe as burnt orange colors but Devin just about dies every time I say the word burnt."

"Has he been helpful?"

"Helpful? Um, no. He's not an event planner and he's definitely not a wedding planner, he's more…what…stop you're being…oh fine, here, he wants to talk to you."

"Christian? Hi, listen, I'm sure you meant well by asking me to tag along on these errands for your wedding and shit but I've got to alert you to one glaring inconsistency between me and my people. I am not interested, in the least, in planning a wedding. Boring as fuck." He screeches and slaps something, "OK, well, fuck isn't boring if you know what I'm saying and god knows you know what I'm saying. What I am saying is that I'm not coming along to anymore of these boring as not fuck wedding things. Find yourself another blue haired black man to follow her around."

"Got it. Blue haired black men are not interested in planning our wedding."

"Oh brother. You make it sound personal. But you're right. You know, I'm torn by the way and I just need to stop fixating on it and talk to you about it. I believe you heteros call it, "manning up". Anyway, I've been invited to your stag and Annie's staggette and I'm just so distraught over whose party I'm going to attend. Would you be terribly upset if I skipped out on yours a bit early to attend the club part with Ana?"

Club? "…there will be tons of man meat at your shin dig but if nobody's getting naked, then I'm going to lose interest after a few hours…" What club? "…but when Katie mentioned the tattoo parlor it was a no brainer, I've got to be with Annie…and you should see what that crazy bitch Lisa picked out. I said to her, Lisa, nobody is interested in…"

Tattoo? Tattoo parlor? Ink on my baby's skin? Permanently?

"Devin put Ana on. Now."

"Oh, well, I see we're into CEO mode as Annie calls it, hang on there she just stepped up to the counter to pay…oh my…that is a ridiculous amount of money for a few invitations to a wedding you know nobody's going to say no"

"Ana. Phone. Now."

"Right. I forgot you're not easily distracted." Before he hands her the phone he hurriedly whispers, "I slipped the tattoo parlor in there because we're friends. Guy code and all that but I couldn't outright tell you. Oh! Ana, Christian needs to speak with you. I'm going next door to get myself an ice cream cone."

"Hi, hold on one sec while I pay for this. Thank you…I will…yes it's him…thank you, I'll let him know. Hi, Ascher from the print place sends his best wishes to us."

"You're not thinking about getting a tattoo are you?" I will flip my lid.

"Umm…who in the wo…Devin. No, I am not planning on getting a tattoo but Kate and Lisa are and I wanted to go with them so we were going to do it all in the same day as part of my bachelorette. I think it'll be fun."

"I don't want you in a tattoo parlor, Anastasia. Those places are rife with criminals and vagrants."

"Men, you mean. They're rife with men and you don't like that. Because if criminals are your concern, then we should stop working with half of our clientele since we both know white collar crimes are more prevalent."

"Fine. Men. I don't want you hanging around a tattoo place."

"Well, it's my bachelorette and unless you can give me a real good reason to avoid going with the girls, I'm going to go and take pictures and hold their hands." Is she flat out defying me?

"We'll talk about this later at dinner. You'll be home by then I assume?"

"I'll be back at Escala by six but I'm not sure what there is to discuss." My fingers pinch my nose, visions of her bent over the table in the playroom with pink lines over her bare ass floating through my brain.

"Later, Ana. This is not over."

"See you at six. Maybe I'll just pierce something instead. Anywho, gotta run. Love you!" Despite my best efforts I chuckle at her last little attempt at humor. Piercings, tattoos, haircuts or dyes, basically anything that alters her appearance is unacceptable.

"Jacqueline!"

"Yes, Sir." Elliot strolls in with her wearing the dirtiest clothes I've ever seen.

"Even my brother needs an appointment," I start, her eyes dropping to the floor with embarrassment. "It was a joke, Jacqueline. I was joking." Am I really that bad at it? "I wanted to check on the tickets for the opera for Saturday night? It's her birthday, things need to be perfectly executed that day."

"Yes, Sir, it's all been confirmed but I'll do it again. Should I order you lunch or are you meeting Ms. Steele?"

"Spinach salad with salmon and balsamic vinegarette. Elliot, you want anything?"

"I'm good, thanks," he says softly to Jacqueline, offering her a smile that has none of the usual Elliot Grey charm attached to it.

When she leaves he shuts the door and plops himself right on the $9k chair across from my desk in his disgusting attire.

"Your new assistant is pregnant?" I nod without looking up. "You didn't even offer to let her sit. And why have her run in here for that bull shit? You could have emailed that to her."

"Are you fucking serious right now, El? You run your company, I'll run mine." Should I not have her walking around? I really need to learn about this whole pregnancy thing. He holds his hands up in surrender.

"Whatever, dude. I wanted to know if you'd given any thought to your bachelor party? I know we're relegated to that Saturday when the girls do their thing but what do you want? Not want? Any thoughts before I call Hugh Heffner?"

"I do not want any women around. Not even wait staff. The last thing I need is the press getting ahold of information that I had a bachelor party and there were women there. You even think about a stripper and I'll dip your balls in chocolate and let Kate eat them for dessert." He laughs.

"You wouldn't have to, she'd do it before you had the chance! For someone so wild in the sack she sure is a prude when it comes to that shit."

"Speaking of shit," I start, waving my hand up and down at him, "were you working in the sewers today?"

"Yea, me and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. No, you asshole, we're digging out a trench for your new basketball and tennis courts and two of my guys called out this morning. Which reminds me, you need to get the architectural plans to me."

"I need an architect first."

"Christ, bro, get your ass in gear! You'll be lucky if you're in before Easter at this rate." Shit he's right. And I need to get in that house as soon as possible. Maybe once we get settled into the house, Ana will want to start a family.

"Just pick someone and set up a meeting with Jacqueline or Andrea."

"Fine, I'll use this guy Marco I like. Expensive as all hell but worth it. Back to your stag, what are we doing?"

"I don't know, Elliot. Dinner, drinks. I really have no idea I just don't want girls and I don't want to go away."

"Got it, you're an old man with a limp dick and you want to be in bed early." He smirks and stands, reaching into his pocket to pull out a piece of paper. "Take a look, what do you think?"

He's drawn a picture of a ring with a tear drop shaped diamond surrounded by little diamonds. I hand it back to him and run my hands through my hair.

"I think you're a talented artist and your shit never fails to impress me and I think she's going to love it. It looks great, El. Congratulations. Did you call my guy at Cartier?"

"Yup, I wanted to get your opinion before I dropped this off to him. I'm thinking three carats but I want top quality so I may have to settle for two and a half he said."

"What's your time frame?"

"By New Years. I was serious about wanting her pregnant this time next year." That old familiar pang of jealousy, self-doubt, frustration…whatever it is pricks at me.

"Why do you want a baby so badly?" He sits back down and folds his hands behind his head. I dramatically hold my finger up and hit the call button to Jacqueline's desk. "Could you please order the same lunch for my brother?" He grins and rolls his eyes but doesn't argue.

"How about some man food? Steak. Potatoes. Broccoli." I laugh, hitting the ignore button on my cell to give him my attention.

"If I gave you broccoli you may as well toss that paper because you will never get her to say yes." We both laugh and recount memories of us as kids and the disgusting things we used to do to Mia. It's a wonder she still loves us.

"Phew," he says, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, "a baby. I don't know man, I've always wanted kids of my own, haven't you?"

"Nope. Not until Ana."

"So you went from not wanting a kid to being ok with it?"

"Elliot, I hadn't even considered a long term relationship let alone marriage and a family. But now it's all I can think about." His chin drops to his chest.

"A baby? That's all you can think about?"

"Yea."

"Wow. I think that's great, I mean, us having kids together and shit, how fun would that be? Mom will go bananas when the girls start popping them out. Maybe they'll plan to get pregnant at the same time, don't chicks do that shit?"

My hand rubs the back of my neck and then loosens my tie. "That's the rub right there. Ana wants a baby but not for a few years." He seems totally unaffected by this news. "Years, Elliot."

"OK, well, she is only 22. And she just got her business started." I could kill him.

"So you're fine with Kate wanting to wait too? Her being 22 and all." I don't even try to hide my sarcasm.

"She wants kids relatively soon but maybe not for a few months. I talk a big game about having her knocked up this time next year but the truth of the matter is that if she's not ready, she's not ready. You can be a really great guy, the perfect husband and a great father but from what I see with friends and even with conversations I've had with mom, the mother does basically everything that first year. Everyone's life changes but Kates the most."

"I'd hire nannies, another house manager, an assistant, whatever she needed."

"Do you really think Ana's the type of woman who is going to hand her baby over to someone else for the majority of its care?" I refuse to answer. "Listen, I get the desire to have a kid, especially as someone who's been adopted," I start to interrupt but he holds his hand up to me. "You can say that has nothing to do with it but I'm going to call bull shit on that. I get it, trust me, I get it. You love this woman, you want to see her pregnant by you. It's a powerful statement to send. This woman loves me so much she's willing to carry my child for me." Well I'll be damned, that's exactly what Flynn said this morning.

"I reiterate, I get it. But you can't compromise on children. You either have them, or you don't. So if you want her to be the best mom she can be and be confident in her choices, then she's got to do it when you're both ready. In the meantime, sabotage her birth control."

"You're an idiot." He smiles up at Jacqueline who places our food in front of us and promptly leaves.

"I know. But I'll be a dad idiot long before you if you push her on this issue."

Three hours later Taylor and Welch inform me that the earliest Elena was willing to meet with Wendy was at noon tomorrow. So fuck everyone else, we'll leave when I have the demons of my past in my hand and not a moment before then.

"Run down the plan, start to finish." Welch takes the lead, standing at the corner of my desk to deliver a play by play of what they've sketched out. In all actuality, it seems like an easy job for Wendy if she can crack that safe. The problem, of course, besides not being able to do it, is Elena finding out something is missing.

I fully expect to have everything tomorrow and while it makes my stomach knot up, it also affords me a different kind of rush. I've been waiting for this complete separation, this complete end to not only her but to that life and to have it so close...it's borderline frightening. For 14 years I have lived with the fear of being caught or betrayed. For 14 years evidence of my vulnerability has been in the hands of one person and tomorrow, I take all of that back.

"Wendy will arrive with Lillian at approximately 11:45am and will meet with Elena at noon. From what we understand, first her medical records and blood work will be examined and afterwards she will be brought into the training room to be put through her paces." I do my best not to react. While my security team and I, outside of Taylor at his initial interview, have never had a conversation about my alternative lifestyle, it's become unavoidable.

"She's willing to go through with it as long as there is no sexual activity outside of nudity but she'd rather not let it get that far. Instead we've created a diversion of sorts." Welch gives me what I think is a smile and shares a look with Taylor who also looks pleased with himself.

"We've been able to secure Ray Steele's guy David to pose as an agent from the FBI. He'll enter the premises at 12:15 or whenever we tell him to and will require Elena's presence. So long as she leaves Wendy alone in that room we think she can get into the safe and back out in less than six minutes. It's not quick or ideal but for one day, it's the best she can manage."

"Six minutes?"

"She started off at nineteen and she's still got hours left to practice. Six is conservative to begin with but David will be wearing an ear piece so he'll know when it's safe to end the meeting."

"And if she doesn't take the bait?"

"She will. David can be very persuasive, we've used him three times for other business since Hyde." My brows raise in question. "Nothing we needed to keep you in the loop on, Sir. All level three threats, all kept under thumb, all deconstructed and destroyed."

"Threats to Ms. Steele?"

"No, Sir, not specifically. To you both, to your family, run of the mill shit. He's proven effective and concise, this will be his first undercover acting job if you will but I'm absolutely confident in his abilities." While my hands begin pulling at my hair at the mere idea of Ana being threatened Taylor steps forward, silently waiting for me to continue my questions on the current matter at hand.

"So she gets the shit and then what? She just walks out?" Taylor, sensing my frustration and keenly aware of the knifes edge I walk between control and insanity takes over answering questions.

"Sir, according to the floor plans we were able to procure from the zoning department there is no hallway in existence in Esclava to begin with so being unfamiliar with the building will pose a great risk if she's to try to blindly find a way out. Instead we were planning on rattling Ms. Lincoln's cage hard enough that she'll be unable to resume the interview and have to reschedule."

Deflated I sit at my desk and unknot my tie, petulantly goading my security team. "Sounds a bit open ended to me."

"It's the best we can do under the circumstances. According to our guy at the FTC, they expect to arrest her on Thursday to charge her with identity theft amongst other things stemming from those bogus accounts. We either move tomorrow or we don't at all."

If there is one thing I hate, it's being painted into a corner. If there are two things I hate, it's being painted into a corner and having no control over what's happening around me.

"Sir, the plan is solid. The people involved are solid. The leads we have are solid. We can only do so much and then we have to let Wendy take over. I personally read her file. Trust me, she can handle anything that comes her way."

Too much, it's all too much. The uncertainty, the loss of control, the requirement that I trust people I don't know, the variables and nuances that I can't adjust to fit my plan. My head begins to pound, my palms begin to sweat.

"Schedule a session with Bastille for nine tonight. I want two hours and tell him to be ready."

"Hey there, Mr. Grey. How was your day?"

"It sucked until this very moment." Nuzzling up to Ana while she cooks me dinner is the highlight of my entire day. The fact that she's wearing a sports bra and tight workout pants is just a plus. Both hands grab her ass, kneading the toned muscles and pressing her against me. A big plus. "What'd you make?"

"Tagliatelli with asparagus, peas and spicy chicken sausage in a brown butter sauce. And," she walks away, opens the refridgerator and pulls out two large slices of cheesecake, "I had Gail pick up some cheesecake for dessert. She offered to make one but with the packing for us, her packing for her wedding and honeymoon, Taylor leaving for Rome and all the other stuff she has to do everyday I thought this would be easier." She frowns and puts the slices back. "I guess I could have picked them up if I really wanted to make things easier for her."

"It's her job, Ana. Don't feel bad that you're finally getting the message. I'm going to change and make a few calls while you finish up here."

"Ten minutes!" She yells after me. Domesticity. I love it.

"It was damn stupid as all hell to start this takeover in the midst of closing the Chinese deal. Plain dumb as fuck stupid. We don't have time for this, Christian. We barely have time for Rome let alone this! Why now, why do we need to start something this big now?"

"Because their president and their CFO are about to be investigated for insider trading and I want shit in place before that happens and the SEC comes in to sell the company off in pieces. We've got two months, tops. But mainly, Ros, because I want it done now so find the time and quit your bitching."

"Find the time he says," she mutters, her heels clicking on the floor so loud I can hear them over the phone. "Well Christ on a cracker, no shit."

"What, Ros, I don't have time for theatrics."

"Elena Lincoln is in the lobby. And she's heading this way, hang on a sec, ok?" Elena is in GEH? From the house line I call Taylor.

"Lincoln is in the lobby at GEH."

"On it, Sir."

"Roselyn, hello! How are you dear?" Oh boy, Roselyn?

"Ros. It's Ros. I'm well, thank you. In a bit of a rush actually."

"Is Christian upstairs by any chance? I wanted to speak with him quickly but"

"He's gone for the evening." There's an edge to her tone that I know well. Ros has never liked Elena, never could understand why I'd woven myself with someone like her and when I severed business ties with her it was Ros who left a bottle of champagne on mine and Andrea's desk to celebrate.

"Gone? It's only six!"

"Well, he rushes home every night to his fiancée, you know how that goes. Or maybe you don't but either way, he's not here and I'm late for my hair appointment."

A few seconds later she cackles into the mouthpiece, breaking the trance I was in. Just hearing her voice has me off kilter.

"Wow, that woman is one Botox shot away from looking like a mannequin. Actually, she's a total hottie but the ugly just seeps out of her. Anyway, some guy just walked in and escorted her out so we're good."

Taylor meets me in the hallway in his workout clothes. I try not to interrupt his off time but I need to know what just happened and if this is in any way connected to our plans for tomorrow.

"What the fuck was that about?" Once in my office he watches as I pour a drink, a double, and then shoot it back. It has been a hell of a day.

"Apparently she's hit her limit. The security guard on duty said she left willingly but that she was visibly upset. The night receptionist has been briefed on what to do should she show up again but considering what she's about to face, I'm not all that concerned about it."

"What did she want?" He shrugs.

"She didn't say other than she wanted to talk to you privately and directly."

"Do you think she knows about Wendy? Tomorrow?"

"I don't know how she could. There are seven people who know our plans and none of them are going to be discussing it with outside sources. My guess is that between the pressure from the investigations, the sharp decline in revenue for her salons, the social pressure of Grace Grey hating you and the fact that you are now getting married she has been pushed to the edge."

"Someone followed her?"

"She seems to be headed home, we'll keep the tail on her until we know for sure." My headache returns in the form of a dull throb across my forehead.

"So you don't think she knows?"

"No, Sir. I think she's cracking. Which, of course, just helps us in the long run."

I scoff, "You make a good point. Go back to Gail, I'll see you at nine."

"Spill it, Grey. I know you're upset so lay it on me. Is it because of the tattoo parlor? Because frankly I think you're being ridiculous but if it's that big a deal to you I'll skip it." I could so easily manipulate the situation to get what I want but with Ana, I won't. She deserves better than that.

"Tough day. My anxiety over you altering your form in any way didn't help but I'm going to trust that you aren't getting a tattoo or a piercing or a haircut or anything that will alter you from how you are right now. Because this," I point, "is perfection."

"God you say the sweetest things sometimes, Christian." Lips made for wicked thoughts sip from her wine glass. After Bastille I am going to fuck the shit out of this girl. But first we've got to talk. "Why was today so tough?"

"Well, outside of having to plan tomorrow's break in with my security team, I had a cargo ship fired on two miles from port in Monrovia, Barney reported that the GEH servers are under constant attack and that he wants to hire two more professional hackers to help him shore things up, Mia called to tell me that my mom has been inundated with calls from her friends asking what's going on with Esclava, Elliot ruined a $9k chair, Ros is pissed about doing her job, I'm not nearly ready to sit down with Shinzu and to top it all off, Elena Lincoln showed up at GEH about 30 minutes ago looking for me."

She swallows and polishes off her glass of wine, watching me carefully as I eat. Her plate is empty, a small comfort to me. Her health and well being have become an obsession of mine and while I won't let her know I'm watching her food intake, I've recently begun to pay very close attention. She needs to be as healthy as possible when she gets pregnant. Already I've had Gail switch our brand of vitamins and I've told her to incorporate more food items with folate in them. So far Ana is none the wiser but I know my time is limited. My girl is way too smart even for me.

"So today was a bad day," she dead pans and then smiles, reaching for my hand and running her fingers along my knuckles. "Let's see, tomorrow will be fine and we can talk about that later if you want but the reality is you have to trust the people you hired. The rest is out of your hands and I know that's probably the hardest part for you but you've been doing so well dealing with uncertainties that I know you can handle this too."

"Now, did anyone get hurt from the ship attack? No? OK so you beef up security and keep doing what you're doing because what you're doing over there is amazing." She pulls her knees up to her chest and looks skyward as she tries to remember my next complaint. "Barney's awesome at his job which is why he knows to play defense before it's necessary, your mom is probably loving convincing people to go to Franco's and what's this about Elliot and a chair?"

"He's a filthy pig and he sat in my office in his filthy pig clothes and got oil, mud and diesel on said chair. Maintenance had to take it away it smelled so bad." She giggles and picks up my fork, twirling a piece of pasta before stabbing an asparagus and lifting the fork to my mouth. I hesitate only a second before taking the bite and smiling down at her.

"I know what you're doing, Anastasia."

"You do?" She says, overly innocent as she bats those long lashes at me.

"You're taking care of me but it's my job to take care of you." She rolls her eyes, a small flame of anger flashing in my chest but just as quickly it's extinguished when she repeats the motion, feeding me another bite.

"Wrong, baby. We take care of each other." She concentrates on twirling again and sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, licking it when she releases it to speak. My dick is going to shoot off if she does that again.

"Well, bummer about the chair but what are you going to do. What else," she murmurs, pouring me another glass of Sancerre, a bad idea if I'm going to spar in two hours. "Oh, Ros. Can't help you there. But I can help you with the Chinese deal. You're far more prepared than you think you are considering we've had a hundred and one casual conversations about it over the last three months. We'll sit for the entire flight if we have to and look things over so you can get your head wrapped around it." One last bite and she sits back, crossing her hands in her lap. "And what you don't know, I do so relax. I've got you, baby."

She takes a sip of my wine, eyes slanting as she stares at me. "Now, Elena. Admittedly that one's thrown me. Was she expecting to see you?"

"She was asking to see me. Ros put her in her place but if she's just showing up then she's starting to lose it. Which I guess could be a good thing for us but I need tomorrow to go without a hitch." I don't realize I'm pulling at my hair until she gently pulls my hands down, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles on my palms.

"It will, Christian. You have the best team there is and Wendy is very good at her job. What happened with Elena today?"

"She was just in the lobby, that's it. Security tossed her out."

"So she's a non-issue right now. And pretty soon she's going to be the State of Washington's non-issue." We toast to that and just as I always do when I'm around her, I feel better about everything.

"How was your day?"

"Oh you know, I had to field calls all day from world famous designers begging to do my wedding dress. I knew two of their names but the rest I had no idea who they were. Andrea was great though, I have to say, if you ever got rid of her, GEH would collapse as would our personal lives."

"I know. Trust me, she knows too. She just put in for her review." And I'll happily give her the 10% salary increase and an upgrade to her Audi along with another five vacation days. She's indispensable.

"I had a little bit of an issue with the stationers though." Her face clouds over with a frown. "I had to give them the addresses of our guests and I didn't have one for my mom."

Great. What a great conversation to have right now.

"I guess I could call her but then…then I'd have to talk to her and I don't want to." Her fork drops to her plate and her eyes plead with me. "Do we have to have her there? I would feel terrible excluding her but at the same time I'd feel terrible having her there. And I know she'll start drama with Ray and probably you too."

"Ana, about your mom." She looks at me and waits. I'd give half my fortune away not to have to have this conversation right now or ever for that matter. "I went to see her on the way to London. Just a few minute visit but I wanted to give her a bit of cash to get her set up and then…well I basically told her to fuck off." Her face falls and her eyes widen.

"What do you mean you told her to fuck off? You saw her? You saw her a week ago and you're just now telling me?" Her breathing has picked up and the hue of her skin is red with fury, not the soft alabaster I've come to love so much. This is a side to Ana I've not seen yet and if the clenching and unclenching of her fists by her side or the way her eyes are wide and wild is any indication, I don't want to see it again. "Christian? Why am I just now finding this out?"

"It never seemed like a good time to tell you but yes, I did and I'm sorry you're upset but it was something I felt as your future husband I had to do."

APOV

My chest constricts tighter and tighter, the vise of pressure beginning to make it difficult to breathe. He saw my mother, took a huge detour from his flight, brought his entire staff to Georgia, just to tell my mom to fuck off. It was premeditated, planned out, talked about with other people. But not with me.

He sits still, his usual stoic façade nowhere in sight. He's as anxious as I am angry. Neither of us moves or blinks or even breathes. Inside my gut is churning. With what? Hurt certainly, anger most definitely and...fear. Fear that he has the power and the means to lead this entire separate existence from me that I could never find out about. If he can hide something this big, he can hide anything. I trust him, I do...but this...this is like a cold bucket of truth reality check. I will only ever know what he wants me to know. And I am not ok with that. Not at all.

The ability to articulate anything though has been taken from me. I'm so shocked, so blind sided and so heated that I don't know what to say or how to say it. After a good three minutes of utter silence, me staring into space while my eyes burn and him watching me as if I were a caged animal, I move. My feet drop to the floor as the air is sucked right out of me. His back tenses in response to the movement but it's when I go to speak and nothing but a strangled gasp comes out that I see the anguish on his face. He didn't mean to hurt me, he would never mean to hurt me and knowing that he did is killing him. And just like that the conflicting emotions separate themselves and fall into place.

I'm pissed and I'm touched. His execution was wrong but his heart was in the right place.

"This," I stand, pacing back and forth from the table to the breakfast bar, "is what I was talking about when I said I was fearful of failing." He stands and faces me, the worry etched a bit deeper around his eyes as he watches me teter on the brink of a melt down. Tentatively he speaks, his voice soft and slow.

"How is this you failing?"

"Because! I want to scream and rant and rave and be really really mad at you but I don't want to at the same time because I know why you did it and I know you thought it was the best thing for me. I want to be mad, and I am, but I don't want to be mad, and I'm not." I stop and take a deep breath, hands on my hips. "Does that make sense?"

"Uh...sort of." He stands as still as stone looking damn good in a plain white t-shirt and black kickboxing shorts. I hate that he looks so good right now. I raise my brows to encourage him to elaborate, something he's clearly afraid to do but when I give him the 'let's go' motion with my hand he grimaces and says, just as softly as he can, "You're upset with my method but happy that I love you enough to do it."

"Good enough." I sit back down, the wind taken completely out of my sails. "How did she look?" He warily sits down as well but makes no motion to touch me, a wise move considering that I'm still pretty upset.

"The same. I had a car pick her up when she got out and she was staying at a nice hotel on my dime for a few days. I needed to know where she was so that I could confront her." A few days. I knew nothing. Resentment begins to settle itself in my chest. Another minute and a shit load of deep breaths later I continue on.

"Confront. What did you say to her?" And he tells me, every detail down to the clothes she had on and the temperature of the room. This man makes me want to smack him and kiss him all at the same time. "You told her not to contact me? You decided, on your own, that it was your job to tell her that?" At this he becomes indignant and insolently reaches for his wine glass, twirling the white liquid before taking a sip.

"Yes, I did. We had a conversation the night before I left in which you made it clear that you didn't want anything to do with her right now. As your future husband," he tips that damn wine glass my way, "it is my job to make sure that you get what you want." I'm incredulous.

"But...but...you had this planned long before that conversation." He's caught and he knows it. In front of me he transforms into the persona I've been told about. That arrogant, insolent, cocky business man who has an end goal and tramples anything and everyone in his way.

"I did what needed to be done. She's nothing but a negative influence in our lives and she's a criminal. Until our conversation I wasn't sure exactly what I was going to say to her outside of letting her know that under no circumstance was I going to allow her to hurt you again." I watch with fascination as he struggles against old habits. He wants, more than anything, to shut this down and close the chapter but I'm not an acquisition or a merger and there is no way in hell this is near over.

"It was not your job to have that conversation with her! It was mine!"

"And that's what you wanted, Anastasia? A conversation with her? Did you really want to sit down with her and explain to her that you wanted her out of your life?"

"No, of course not but that's irrelevant! You can't just do things like this, you can't just make these huge decisions and assume it's what I want you to do. She's my mother, Christian! And as much as I appreciate you wanting to protect me and love me and take care of me, this isn't the way to do it!" We both sit silently, the minutes ticking by. Finally he sighs and runs his hands through his hair making it stand even more on end.

"You gave her money? Why?"

"She's got nothing and while there's no love lost between us she is still your mother and my mother in law. It wasn't much, just enough for her to get a used car or an apartment."

"Thank you for that, I would never have asked you to do that but I appreciate it nonetheless." He shifts uncomfortably again, clearly debating whether or not he should tell me everything. "What? There's more, I know it."

"When I told her not to contact you she was upset so I gave her the option of writing you a letter." My heart drops just by the way he says it. "I have it in the safe if you want to see it."

Do I? "Is there anything in it that I need to know or that would change my feelings about the situation?" Slowly and sadly he shakes his head. "Then get rid of it." And before I burst into tears in front of him I rush out of the room and lock myself in the bathroom.

This hurts. Bad. I knew it would, I knew in the back of my mind my mom wouldn't be at my wedding but living through the reality of it is sharper than I expected. Combine that with what feels like an enormous step back in mine and Christian's honesty policy and I'm on emotional overload.

"Ana?" His voice is gentle and contrite. When he opens the door a few seconds later I don't protest but I don't look up either. "I wanted you to have this," he says, handing me a small piece of paper.

"I don't want to read it."

"It's not the note, it's the combo to the safe in my office. Taylor will need to program your fingerprint in but if you ever change your mind, it's in an envelope on the top shelf."

"I'm so mad at you."

He sighs and sits down across from me, bracing himself against the cabinet under the sink. "I know. You should be. I should have told you right away what my plans were. At the very least I should have talked to you about it as soon as I got back and I intended to but then we spent the day in bed and yesterday was so nice and relaxing. I'm sorry. I fucked up."

And because I know this man's heart I let it go for now. By no means is the conversation over but instead of ranting and raving I crawl into his lap and find the comfort I need in the form of his arms around me and the steady beat of his heart.

"I really am sorry," he whispers into my hair. And even though right now I don't want to, I choose to forgive.

"I forgive you." His arms tighten slightly. "Just…next time talk to me first. You doing things like this, it's so much more to me than what I see as overstepping. I hate finding out stuff so much later, it makes me feel like there are other things you're hiding or that I'm not as involved in your life as I thought." He kisses the top of my head and squeezes me.

"I'm only hiding the honeymoon destination." At this I smack his chest and he stands, carrying me to the seating area in our room so that I can lie on the couch with my head in his lap. Soothingly he strokes my hair while we watch the sun begin to set, the haze of dusk blanketing the room in the intimacy of night.

"You could live an entirely separate life and I'd never know. With very little effort you could hide anything from me."

"Why would I want that? A separate life from you? That's the last thing I want."

"But when you do things like this and exclude me, it plants that fear. It causes me to doubt your honesty, it makes me question what you do when I'm not around, it makes me feel like there is an huge part of you that I don't have access to." His inhale is sharp.

"Ana, you have access to every part of me and my life." I sit up and look him dead in the eye.

"No, I very obviously don't. If I did, I wouldn't be just now finding this out. This has always been one of our issues, Christian. I need to be able to trust you and part of that is knowing that I'm a part of these big decisions. I can't live my life always wondering what's going on that I don't know."

"OK."

"OK?" He nods and gently presses my head back to his lap where he resumes the tender strokes to my scalp.

"I understand. Do you understand that it was done with the best of intentions?"

"I do. I'm not going to lie and say I'm not still upset though. I need time to process all of it. And not just you going down there but telling her how I felt too. I'm just...I don't want to talk about it anymore right now. I'm fried." And in an attempt to add a bit of levity I smile up at him and kiss his fingers. "Don't forget how I spent my day." He grins wide and taps my nose affectionately.

"Did you decide on a designer for your dress? I imagine you need to do that right away." I groan and press my forehead into his thigh.

"I don't need a designer. I want something super simple that I can breathe in and be comfortable in and I don't want to wear shoes. I need some kind of input from you here, Christian. I'm sitting with Andrea and the caterers and they want a final decision on Wednesday when we get back and I have no idea what you want, what you don't want, what's a priority to you. This is our wedding, not just mine."

He runs one finger over his bottom lip slowly.

"Here's what's important to me as far as the day goes. I want you to say yes, I want you to let me make love to you until dawn. Outside of those two things, I don't really care. You could wear jeans for all I care." His hand stops. "Actually, that's not true. I do want you in a white dress." His voice drifts and fades while he loses himself in a thought.

"Christian?"

"Sorry, I was picturing you walking down the aisle. Yes, definitely a white dress. Preferably long. I don't suppose you'd wear a veil?" I stifle an eye roll and a groan.

"I'd prefer not to." That finger continues to run back and forth as he weighs the wisdom of pressing me on anything right now.

"OK, no veil. And I would like your hair down. I like it like this too," he tugs my ponytail, "but there's something about your hair down that drives me crazy. As to the food, I'll go with you on Wednesday to decide but my main concern is the wine. I want really great wine with each course."

Under me he shifts and turns me so I'm looking up at him. "Flowers I know nothing about so do what you want with that. Music has to be some sort of string quartet due to the limited space but that's fine with me, I just want to have that first dance with you." He pauses, "I want to pick the song and surprise you with it. And I want everyone off the boat by nine so we can have the night to ourselves. That part I'll figure out with Mac and Taylor."

"What about favors, the photographer, security?"

"What are you talking about favors? No favors, that's stupid. I'll have Andrea narrow down three photographers and we can interview them next week and security is something you need not worry about. That's already being worked out and that is one thing I can say you don't need to think about at all. Taylor already put in the request for a no fly-over zone for commercial or private air craft for that day, he's filed a request for two additional police boats for the area we'll be anchored at and there will be two undercover security officers on board."

"Undercover? There's like, 40 people invited and they all pretty much know each other. There is no undercover."

He chuckles. "I guess you're right."

It's 8:43 and as tired as I am, I am so wound up I need to move. I had taken advantage of the unusual luxury of a free hour this afternoon and went to Heather's yoga class. It was the first time Sawyer had seen her in action and despite the fact that she kept her room at a cool 66 degrees, the heat between them was fierce. I had wanted to catch up with her after class but he was always just a few feet away protecting me. But despite the fact that Heather pushes her students as far as she can, I'm still in need of a bit of physical release after our dinner conversation.

At 8:59 he breaks our comfortable silence and swats at my butt, ordering me to stand up so he can meet Taylor in the gym downstairs with Bastille.

"I'm coming too." He stops mid-stride and gives me a puzzled look.

"To spar? I'm not really comfortable with you fighting any of us."

"Not to spar, to run. I'm too keyed up to just sit here and wait for you and there is no way I'm going to get to sleep anytime soon so I'm going to run. Sawyer bested me by almost two full minutes yesterday." He rolls his eyes and takes my hand.

"We ok?"

"We will be. I just need to shake this feeling of exclusion that's hanging around my neck." He grimaces but sometimes, the truth hurts.

The gym at Escala is amazing. Everything is top of the line and brand new. There are mini refrigerators at every corner filled with Evian waters and pristine folded towels at every machine. I've only been down here twice in the four months I've known Christian but I've never really appreciated it until now. The main room is where the treadmills, elliptical and stationary bikes are but the walls are made of glass so that I can see both private training rooms on either side.

In one is a man, a very tall, very dark, very formidable man. His hands are covered in white tape, a sharp contrast to the dark black of his skin. At first glance, he terrifies me. There's a focus behind his dark brown eyes that speaks volumes to his dedication but it's the underlying awareness that this man is capable of incredible physical pain that has me looking him up and down. Nowhere on his body is there a softness. When we walk in he continues to stare ahead, the only person I've ever seen not acknowledge Christian immediately. Instead he stands stock still while Taylor wraps Christian's hands.

Only then does he turn to us, a brief flash of shock running through his eyes as he just now sees me for the first time.

"Claude, my fiancée, Anastasia Steele. Ana, Claude Bastille, Olympian and my personal punching bag." He smiles then and even though a minute ago I would have trembled in his presence, now, I want to squeeze his cheeks. He's nothing more than a big teddy bear.

"A pleasure, Ms. Steele. I do hope you won't change your mind about marrying him once you see him laid out on the mat tonight." His eyes gleam wickedly with mirth but his smile is all sincerity.

"I look forward to a good show," I say hesitantly not sure how I'm supposed to react. I've never really seen anyone except Elliot and on rare occasions Ros tease Christian but for his part, he seems amused by the banter.

"You finished staring off into space so we can get started? Or did you need a few more minutes to gather your courage?"

"Meditation. You should learn it, it's one more arsenal at your disposal." Christian tightens the tape and rolls his shoulders back.

"Right, because my most effective weapon is me staring at nothing. Let's go." His hands meet in a punch that cracks through the rooms air, bouncing off of the walls. For some reason it makes my womb flip.

"Ms. Steele." I turn to Taylor who holds the door open for me. "We'll wait outside. You can watch from the treadmill."

I laugh when I see he's turned one to face the room and has moved an elliptical machine to face the room as well.

"Where's Sawyer?" I swear he turns a few shades pinker but it could be the fake cough that made his face go red.

"He took the rest of the night off." I fire off a text to Heather to which I receive no response. Which tells me everything of course.

Taylor takes my phone and plugs it in the docking station on the treadmill before getting onto the machine next to me. I feel kind of weird working out with him but he doesn't seem phased by it at all. I'm not sure if he's a fan of Mary J. Blige but since that's the music I run to, he's going to listen to it.

At first I run without really watching the scene in front of me. Instead I focus on getting in a groove and finding a pace that I'm comfortable with. I have absolutely no intention of running for the next two hours but I'd like to get in at least a good 45 minutes.

At mile two I stop noticing the speed at which my legs are moving and the start of a burn in my lungs. I notice one thing and one thing only. The man in the glass room kicking, punching and moving in a display of modern day gladiator warfare. Alpha. Male. Hot, brutal, alpha male.

Hard, solid, sculpted, hot, sinewy, rigid, sweaty flesh moves in a display so erotic I lose all track of time. The men spar on and off, stopping occasionally to allow for water breaks and Bastille's tutelage. I have never seen Christian in student mode and while the world finds him sexy as hell when he's in take charge, I run the world mode, this is somehow even sexier.

He glances at me a few times but his attention is focused on learning and winning. When Bastille stops him to show him something or to correct a movement he listens humbly, nodding when he's got it and never once repeating the same mistake. Three times he falls to the Olympian but twice he fells the legend himself.

There is something insanely sexy about a focused man and when said man looks like Christian Grey, sexy is an understatement. At nine miles I nearly collapse, the beat of my heart loud in my ears. Next to me Taylor begins his run and even though we've both been moving for almost a full hour, he's barely broken a sweat. I should do the elliptical but there is no way in hell I'm doing any more cardio tonight.

Instead I find a mat and stretch until my body falls into the familiar routine of my advanced Pilates class. It makes me a bit sad to go through the motions. Between everything going on in my life and the fact that no matter how restrictive we've made the policies with regards to cell phones and photos, every week there's at least one picture of me instructing. Jared was not entirely happy that I'd cut out Wednesday nights but when I promised him at least until the end of the year for Sunday nights he relaxed a bit.

"What's that one called?" Taylor startles me out of my reverie and lies flat next to me, lifting his arms and legs to mimic my movements. Can't say I ever saw this happening.

"100's. Works your core." He grunts and imitates me for three full minutes until I lie flat and stretch again.

"Shit, that was more of a workout than the two miles I just ran at top speed." I sense a challenge.

"Rest your shoulders flat on the mat and use your hips and calves to elevate the rest of your body. This is called a bridge." For another 30 minutes I instruct him, watch Christian, and try to make sense of this churning need in my gut. I don't know what it is I need but it's becoming harder and harder to ignore. I feel restless in a very physical sense.

When the door finally opens, a rush of heat comes out along with the men who are dripping sweat. Both of them polish off a bottle of water in less time than it takes me to gather my iPhone and towel. I don't think I do it out loud but I know I groan when Christian swipes his chest and shoulders with the towel before tossing it into the bin next to the front door. He doesn't bother to put on a shirt but instead shakes Claude's hand, motions for Taylor and wraps his arm around my shoulder.

"How do I smell, baby?" He's teasing but the truth is he smells good. Really good. I want him to bend me over and do me hard good. He mistakes my silence for anger and sighs, keeping his distance in the elevator. I'm burning up and it has nothing to do with the workout I just did. The restlessness I've felt since dinner? The helplessness and fear that I haven't been able to rectify yet? It is burning a hole in me that needs filling and I know exactly what will fulfill that need.

He avoids eye contact with me until we're in the bedroom, rounding on me with an angry glare.

"I said I was sorry!"

"I know," my hands rest on my hips for a split second before I push down the pants and panties I have on. To his credit his eyes remain on mine but I still see the way his body lurched towards mine. "I'm not mad right now." He scowls with confusion. "I want you. No, scratch that, I need you." His head snaps back with surprise but then that mask slips into place, the Dominant persona I've come to love.

"Do you now?"

"Yes. Hard and fast and now." No part of him moves though so I take matters into my own hands and lift the sports bra off before walking to the edge of our bed. When I bend over so that my chest is flat on the mattress and my butt is in the air he hisses and immediately stands next to me.

"Rough," he asks, his hand coming down sharply on one cheek.

"Yes," I grit out, embarrassed to ask but wanting it so much that I just don't care enough to stop myself.

"I like that, Ana. I like that a lot. You need something, you come to me, baby. Always to me." His hand comes down again three times more before I feel the whoosh of air when is shorts hit the floor. "So wet, so sexy," he murmurs while two fingers slide up and down my slit. This is fun and all but...

"Now, I want you to do it now!" He is not used to being bossed around because he spanks me again, this time on both sides right where my thighs meet my butt. I won't lie, it feels amazing. Three more of those and I'm going to come before he even pushes inside.

"You need it now? Hmm?" Behind me he lines himself up, rubbing the thick head of his cock over my slit. I want to scream at him to just do it already and I'm about to when he rams himself in hard, the resulting jolt to my cervix enough to steal my breath. That fucking hurt. In a really good way.

With each harsh thrust I feel the need evaporate, the anxiety and anger, the fear and resentment are literally being pounded out of me.

"More," I yell, his hands gripping my hips so hard I twist to release him but he doesn't notice. Instead he gives me exactly what I asked for and slams into me over and over and over, stopping only to kick my ankles apart.

"I'm close, Ana," he grunts. I don't even care about coming, I just want this. This rawness between us that somehow is smoothing my jagged emotional edges right now.

"No. Harder...faster." Without warning his fingers tangle and grip into my hair and he pulls me back so that I'm arched against him. "Oh god yes...this...this is what I need."

He answers with a grunt of his own and tightens his hold on my hair even as the hand on my hip relaxes slightly.

"I can't...I'm right there...shit, you've got to come baby...oh fuck..." and then he unexpectedly releases my hair and pushes me down, his hand wrapping around the back of my neck. One of his feet lands by my elbow and then he yanks my hair back again and that does it for me.

On a scream and a groan and a flash of heat I come, the release far more than just physical for me. I need this with him, this primal connection, this fulfillment of a basic need that we find so satisfying with each other. He grunts my name, my full name; "Anastasia," as he spills into me. When he stills I'm still coming, the smaller pulses of my sex still bringing pleasure in the form of aftershocks.

Behind me and half on top of me he pants, sweatier now than he was in the gym ten minutes ago. He stumbles back a step and sits, naked on the floor Indian style for a few seconds before flopping onto his back.

"God damn that was good." He shakes his head and reaches down to hold onto his penis as if he's afraid it's going to fall off if left unattended. "I did not see that coming."

I giggle and stand up straight, doing the now familiar move of squeezing my legs together in an effort to not get his...junk all over the floor. He watches me with one eye open, breathlessly laughing when I start running with my hands between my legs.

By the time he saunters in, I've started the shower and am already enjoying the feeling of the grime of the day sloughing off and down the drain. If only emotions could be shed so easily. He follows, automatically reaching for the Costco brand shampoo I use. Between the sex and the shampooing I'm finding it harder and harder to care about what happened with my mom. So when I start to cry again we're both a bit confused.

"You're still upset?"

I nod because to speak would be too much effort. "I thought...I thought...," his voice drifts off and I stick my head under the water to drown out any more conversation. He thought I was over it because I had demanded sex from him. In his world, that's the end all be all to our disputes. Either we make slow love or like tonight, we quench that overwhelming fire with something akin to madness.

"I'm sad, Christian." He reaches for the conditioner and rubs it in, using what's left on his hands on his own hair. The move is so intimate that it somehow blurs the division I'd begun to feel between us earlier. "Christian?"

"Yes?" He tips my head up to look at him and though he hates Carla Adams and is probably thrilled to have her out of our lives there is a sadness on his face that I know is there because he loves me so much.

"Will you play the piano for me tonight? Something sad?" His brows knit but one side of his mouth ticks up in an attempt at a smile.

"Working out, rough sex and now piano. Are you adopting my coping mechanisms? Because I've recently learned that there are better ways to deal with stress."

"Oh yea, like what?"

He turns the water off and squeezes my hair out, cocking his head from one side to the other as he thinks. Finally he shrugs, hands me a towel and wraps one around his waist.

"No idea. You're right, let's go play some sad shit on the piano."

Translation: "Five days and six nights. At least two dinners and four separate meetings. Something to wear on the plane home..."