Authors note: A special thanks to my friend Elyelena for her help with the next few chapters. Also, a reminder to check out the photos on pinterest, link in my profile, so that you can visualize what I'm talking about because I do not have the gift of fashion detailing!

CPOV

The rest of the day drags by without much movement from either side. This has been where all communication has historically dropped off over the last year or so and also where Ros becomes a lunatic. My cap price of $530 million is more than fair, the most current valuation coming in at just under $526 million. But I know, that if I gain control of this company and it's shipyards, factories and distribution routes that I could triple it's net income in less than three years. Subsequently, there has been a few other interested parties with regards to the sale but once my legal team began their usual bombardment, they quickly and wisely backed off.

I don't give a fuck that he started the company with nine dollars and one suit. I don't give a shit that his father worked four jobs to put him through school in rural Qinghai Provence. I don't give a damn that he doesn't have a son to pass the business to. Call me a prick, call me an asshole but sentimental emotional baggage and business does not go hand in hand.

Ana did her best I'm sure to curb and soften the language I used when expressing this particular sentiment but the general tone of my tirade wasn't lost in translation. For almost an hour now all direct communication between myself and Shinzu has ceased, both of us too frustrated and unwilling to compromise but somehow Ana has maintained a connection with him that doesn't seem to be faltering.

Across the table men from both sides watch her, entranced by the same mix of beauty and brains that I am but in typical Ana fashion, she has no idea. Nobody is overt but they all watch her a bit too closely, a few seconds too long. When she drinks her water their eyes focus on her lips and the movement of her throat as she swallows. If I couldn't smell my aftershave on her each time she moved I'd have ripped the place apart already but it's there, faint enough to remind me that I was just inside of her, my semen still inhabiting the part of her that I covet so strongly.

In moments like these, where I'm powerless to stop other men's desire for my wife...sorry, fiancée...my mind short circuits so that I'm filled with a roiling, overwhelming rage. Flynn is convinced that my reaction is worth focusing on and dissecting but I'm not so sure. Doesn't every man protect what's theirs? Doesn't every man imagine plucking another man's eye balls out when they settle on their wife's breasts?

In mere moments I've lost all focus of the meeting and our agenda and have begun to fantasize about what I want to do to each man in here who dares glance her way. Whether she knows it or not, and I'm guessing she doesn't, I've begun to go a bit crazy. She reaches over, her hand hidden by the large cherry wood table and hooks her pinky on mine, pulling on it out of her own frustration at the pace that things are going.

She needs me. Plain and simple she needs me to reengage and help her navigate this bull shit happening right now so I draw on the plan that Flynn and I came up with for moments just like this when my jealousy threatens to turn violent and imagine her the very first time I took her. The first time anyone took her. The way her eyes widened when I pressed against her, the feel of her breath on my neck as it rushed out with my thrusts. Not for the first time I thank god I'm the one who took her virginity. I would need medication to cope with the image of her with someone else.

"Ros," she looks at my second in command, doing her best to remain optimistic and cheery. "A lot of this back and forth can be avoided if I can just answer him directly on questions I know the answers to." Admittedly the frustration of having a language barrier is part of the problem here so when Ros defers to me, it's an easy decision to make.

"Facts only, no negotiations unless we're involved." I have no idea, not even a tiny clue as to what it is Ana is saying to the competition but I have to trust, and I do, that she's got our best interest at heart. It's a fucking turn on watching her take control of the room. In between listening and answering she throws instructions to members of the GEH team to pull up certain presentations, to get her actuarials on specific divisions and my favorite, to get tea that doesn't taste like tree bark.

Despite her best efforts we only iron out six of the nine financial sticking points and as predicted, both sides have agreed to continue the negotiations in Shanghai in two months' time. Normally this would piss me off but knowing I'll be the one to show Ana another part of the world for the first time just excites me. Everything about our future excites me.

When we finish, quick nods to acknowledge that we'll see each other in two hours at the dinner reception Andrea has planned, each man approaches Ana, shakes her hand and bows slightly. For her part, she graciously accepts what is clearly meant as a compliment and then turns to me, her face alight with pride. And she should be proud, she was, in a word, amazing.

"Good job, Steele," Ros offers her on the way to the elevators. "Let's go have a drink."

"I'd love to but I need to make a few wedding phone calls before dinner. Next time?" Ros nods and then looks to me.

"No."

"Party pooper," she huffs as we step onto the express elevator to the penthouse. Outside of our door Sawyer waits with Taylor for us, the transfer of security detail going to him now that Taylor is heading back to the States for his wedding.

"Jason, best of luck to you and Gail. Have a wonderful time and try not to think about work at all." He shakes my hand firmly, a gruff, 'thank you', before he turns to Ana who surprises him with a hug. I'm still not sure how I feel about that.

"Please send me a picture and tell Gail I'm so happy for you guys. I left a small gift on Christian's desk for her if you don't mind giving it to her. It's just a few things I think she'll enjoy and a day of pampering at Franco's new salon. You know, girl stuff." He looks momentarily surprised and then smiles, his hand patting her on the back as if she were a child.

"I'm sure she'll be grateful no matter what it is but my Gail is a sucker for girl stuff. We'll see you when we get back, make sure you listen to Sawyer until then and do me a favor?" She nods, eyes wide waiting, "Stay safe. In fact, stay in this room. It makes my job so much easier."

"Jason Taylor did you just attempt humor with me?" He grins and shakes Sawyer's hand, nodding once in my direction and then disappearing back into the elevator.

"Sir," Sawyer starts, "if you're ready for your daily debriefing we can do that now." Ana looks worried but if there was anything worth knowing about, we'd already know it.

"Nothing serious," he adds when he sees her face, "just the normal Grey House report and a few emails that we'll need to pursue, nothing out of the ordinary."

"I'll change and be on the balcony then." She turns to me, "You'll let me know if it's anything important?"

"Yes, I will. Now go plan our wedding."

In the office I pour myself a brandy, placed there by the hotel staff according to Gail's list of what I like to have accessible to me while I work. On the desk is a printout of three emails, all threatening my life in some way, nothing I haven't read a hundred times before.

"We believe they're written by the same person and while they're menacing we have no real concern that they're a viable threat." This is part of my life that I've gotten so used to it seems almost a waste of time to be alerted to it.

"There was an attempted break in to the Grey House security server this morning at approximately 8:40am Seattle time. Nothing was accomplished but Barney is working with his entire team to track down the hacker. We've given him security access up to level six so that he can move forward without having to check in with Welch every five minutes. It was one of his new hires that found the attempted breach."

"One of the college kids?"

"Yes, Sir. The attempt was made at 8:38am and she discovered it at 8:41." I'm impressed, not an easy feat.

"And Lincoln?"

"The Seattle PD has no word on Elena Lincoln's whereabouts and has just ten minutes ago been granted a search warrant to her home and office. We were able to alert them to the location of the hidden hallway and office in Esclava as well. Welch is meeting with Detective Cantino in a few hours to give him the instructions on how to get into the hidden room at her residence."

"Detective Cantino?"

"Wendy Shote's boyfriend, Sir. He works for the Seattle PD but has access to the State Police database as well. He's currently on our payroll."

"Vetted?"

"Fully. Squeaky clean but a vigilante in his own right. He and Ms. Shote seem to make a dynamic if not terrifying team. It was through him that we were made aware of the warrants. Separately we were notified that the bank managers have decided to cooperate fully with any investigation and have begun to explain the way in which they were helping Ms. Lincoln hide cash." He looks down quickly and then raises his eyes to mine. "It appears as if they would receive certain sexual favors in exchange for their assistance and secrecy."

"We knew that already."

"We did, but the authorities didn't. Their testimony will open an entirely different type of investigation."

"Prostitution?"

"That would be the most obvious. From what Cantino said, the women were always of age but were different every time. They weren't paid for their time but it was understood that they were being provided as a service and because of that, there will be an investigation opened."

"Has he been made aware of the boy in the picture? Does he have any idea what might be going on?"

"He has not as of an hour ago but Welch will be giving him any and all information we had that would help the investigation without compromising your privacy when they meet later today."

"I struggle with that," I say, more to myself but Sawyer hears me nonetheless.

"Sir?"

"Nothing," I answer quickly but that familiar pit in my stomach has already opened, the fear that my silence all of these years has enabled her to prey on other boys. My guilt, overwhelming at times, has become a focal point in my sessions with Dr. Flynn of late. The fact that it took me so long to even recognize her behavior as wrong haunts me.

The logical part of me rationalizes the facts that I do know. Not once has she made any mention over the course of the last eight years of another young man. I have always been introduced to her current sub and all of them have been of age and nothing, outside of that picture that I found, indicates that she had someone else as young as I had been.

Sawyer is still speaking, going over the regular security issues that plague my life. I tune back in when I hear that Mia is still giving her CPO a hard time, a seemingly constant struggle that is frankly pissing me off. As soon as he's finished I dismiss him and dial my sisters phone, the frustration of the day pouring out into my greeting.

"What part of 'you need a body guard' do you not understand, Mia?"

"Well hello to you too big brother. I see Italy isn't going as well as you'd hoped for."

"Mia, cut the crap. Why are you giving Alana such a hard time?" Her exaggerated sigh just adds fuel to my fire. "I got rid of three different officers for you and agreed, against my better judgment, to hire someone that you felt you could be friends with thinking it would mean you'd give them less of a hard time."

"Christian, why why why do I need someone to protect me? Protect me from what? I'm not you, nobody cares what the hell I do. The only time anyone has ever taken my picture is when I've been with you, I don't need her to tag along every time I want to get a manicure! It's annoying and embarrassing!"

"No, Mia, what's annoying is the fact that at 21, almost 22 you still don't understand that you being my sister makes you a target. Do you not realize that I would do anything, pay anything, say anything to get you back if someone took you? Have you no idea how many enemies I have who would love nothing more than to cut my legs out from beneath me? I've got enough shit to deal with on an hourly basis, I don't need to be concerned that my little sister is being an immature brat and putting herself in harms way!"

After a beat, enough time for me to realize I may have gone too far she whines into the phone, my eyes automatically rolling to the back of my head.

"Christian, nobody's going to hurt me."

"Mia, just for you to say that shows how naïve you are to what could happen." She does her best to interrupt but I press ahead, not interested in hearing what her excuse could be. "You can argue all you want, you can complain and bitch and whine but you will have a CPO and you will allow them to do their job. It's a non-negotiable."

"Geez, do you bark at Ana this way too?"

"I don't need to, she understands the risks and acts accordingly." Back and forth for close to two more minutes we go until the realization that I'm actually arguing with her hits me. When the hell did this happen? I don't argue.

"Mia!" She stops speaking, mid-sentence surprised that I've raised my voice. "The discussion ends now. You will have a CPO at all times. If you give them a hard time, I will hire two more. If you give the three of them a hard time, I will hire three more. Would you prefer that? Six body guards following you around or would you rather make the one you have work?"

"But, Christian,"

"End of discussion. I have unlimited resources, I can hire an entire country to follow you around should I need to. Got it?"

"You are impossible!"

"So I've been told," I answer sardonically.

"OK, so we're all set for flowers and the quartet and Jose said he sent you a list of photographers he thinks would do a good job. Debra from your PR department wanted to know if we'd be releasing a picture or if we'd be open to an interview. She said it would help keep the vultures at bay and also boost your image."

"If I cared about my image that would matter to me. But I don't. The picture is one thing but the interview is a no." Of course I want a photo released. I want every fucker in the universe to see that she's taken for good. "Casey found a quartet he liked?"

She rolls her eyes and flops back onto the couch, the tiny silk lounge shorts she's changed into pulling tightly against her sex. Damn that looks good. "He did. Took him nine tries but he found a group he likes and get this, they're just in their twenties! They put together a group a few years ago playing in the subway in New York City." I must look incredulous because she sits up and pulls me down next to her, animatedly speaking with her hands.

"Early twenties?"

"I know! Crazy right? But he said their demo was the best he'd heard and they can do classical plus some more edgy songs for later in the night."

"How old are we talking here?"

"No idea, he just said they were almost my age. He sent all of their information to Welch a few hours ago and said he'd arrange their travel through your office once they were approved. Here, he sent me this mp3 clip."

I'm impressed, more so when I find out the two founding members are brothers who both received scholarships to Juilliard. I'm not entirely sold on having young people at our wedding but Ana is so excited about it that I let it go for now. Jose's email to me lists five photographers, three of whom are men but since the plan is to have someone taking pictures while Ana gets ready, I immediately eliminate all three. No man is going to see what's under that dress but me.

"So, I know I said I didn't want help with this, and I still don't but I have to admit that it's too much for me to do in a month and too much of it has fallen onto my friends so I'd like to talk to you about hiring someone to help me with this." She looks sheepish which is ridiculous since I'm the one who told her to get help in the first place.

"Ana, hire whomever you need to. I don't give a shit what you do, just make sure you hire a gay man or a woman."

"Why? So they can ogle you instead? You know, you ensure that I'm not around men as often as you can manage but have you ever considered that that leaves you surrounded by other women?" I had not. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I have an issue with that?"

"Do you?" I kind of hope she does, I like jealous Ana.

"I'm not sure," she starts, throwing one leg over my lap to straddle me. "I mean, I did almost rip that Gia girl's head off of her bony shoulders when she flirted with you and then there was Mooooona the baker slut." I laugh, her pout adorable and sexy at the same time.

"The difference there is that I don't care at all about those women or any woman for that matter." She pulls back from the kiss I was about to get and opens her mouth in protest.

"And I care about those men?"

"No, but I know how men think. They see you, all hot and sexy with a killer body and tits that are every man's fantasy and they're picturing you naked in bed with them. I don't like that."

"And you think that women aren't picturing you the same way?"

"It's not the same, Ana." I'm starting to get angry, not at the conversation but at the reminder that other men are fantasizing about her.

"It is most certainly the same. Even worse because women are way more aggressive than men are! How many times, and be honest, has a woman shown up naked in front of you without any provocation?" Oh this is not going to go well.

"No idea."

"Bull shit. More than 10?" I need a distraction, a phone call, a knock on the door, an earth quake.

"Probably."

"More than 20?" She squeals. In my head I'm trying to send a telepathic message to Elliot like we did as kids for him to call me. This minute. "I said, more than 20?"

"I would guess yes." Her eyes grow wide while her fingers tighten on my forearms.

"More than 20! My god! Do you know how many men have just shown up naked in front of me?"

"How many? And don't fuck around with me, Anastasia."

"None. Not one. Because men don't do that shit. Women do. But you want to surround yourself with women and not men because it makes you feel better. What about me though?" What the fuck is happening right now? Where the fuck is Elliot?

"It's different. It's my job to take care of you, that's what a man does. He takes care of his woman. There are many elements to that but part of it is ensuring that nobody disrespects you, even in their minds. Another part of that is ensuring that I don't disrespect you by putting myself in positions that could be misinterpreted."

"You aren't a Jedi you know, you can't control peoples minds." We both laugh at her impersonation of a Jedi but then she sighs, the playful conversation over.

She looks down and adjusts my tie, wiggling against what is quickly becoming a hard on. Will I ever get enough of this woman? She bites her lip in thought, the pink flesh turning white under her teeth. Nope, never.

"What is it?"

"It's stupid."

"Nothing is stupid if it's bothering you. What is it?" She drops her arms and looks at me.

"The business manager, she kept staring at you trying to get your attention every chance she got yesterday and today. And then when we were leaving just now she touched your arm when she was talking to you even though I was standing right there holding your hand. She didn't even acknowledge me."

"The business manager? Isobella? She was staring at me?" I thought I had taken care of that one. Didn't I?

"Christian," she deadpans, lifting her knees so that they're wedged under my arms, "they all do. Everywhere we go, whatever it is we're doing, women are waiting for you to notice them. They don't even notice me and if they do, it's because they hate me."

"Ana, I don't even see them. I mean, some of them I do because they're pretty blatant about it but I just find that annoying. In a room of a thousand beautiful women you'd be the only girl I'd see."

"Even if they all took their clothes off in front of you?" I laugh because she being jealous is not only unexpected but totally out of character.

"Yes, I'd still only see you. You're my heart, baby." I shift beneath her, adjusting myself so that I'm slightly less uncomfortable and then hold her hand over the center of my chest. "Let me ask you this. Whose bed did I sleep in last night?"

"Mine."

"And whose bed will I sleep in tonight?"

"Mine," she grins.

"And whose hands are allowed to touch me here, where it matters most?"

"Mine."

"And whose juice is all over my cock so that it sticks to my boxers?"

"Oh my god!" She laughs, throwing her head back before leaning in to kiss me. "Mine," she giggles, "is it really sticking to your underwear?"

"It? My dick you mean?"

"Christian Grey you have no shame!"

"No," I laugh, unzipping my pants to make myself even more comfortable, "I don't. And yes, it does happen but I love when it does. I like knowing you're walking around with me inside of you just as much too."

She rolls her eyes but before she can finish the rotation my hand lands squarely on the exposed skin of her outer thigh.

"Christian!" She squeals, wrestling my hands away while I continue to give her little spanks wherever I can. I'm doing pretty well, both of us laughing and wrestling on this huge navy and gold couch in a very elegant room acting like kids until she somehow wedges her fingers under my arms and tickles me. No matter what I do I can't get her off so I beg for mercy and lay panting next to her when she finally grants it.

"I forget how strong you are." She smiles next to me, eyes closed, chest heaving. "For a girl." And just as I predicted it would it lights her up enough to jump on top of me for another go 'round.

"One day, Grey. One day I am going to tie your naked ass up and whip it." Her words are no more than grunts and screeches while we roll around on the floor.

"One day, Steele, I just might let you."

"OK," comes her breathless response as she settles next to me, "but for now can we just make out?"

I've heard of this; of men waiting for their woman to finish getting ready but this is the first time I've had the pleasure to wait on my mine. I say pleasure because if Ana has taught me one thing, it's that when I'm waiting for her, it's always worth it.

Tonight, as I drink a brandy and look out at the landscape of Rome beneath me, the lights twinkling as much as the stars above are, I take a moment and soak it all in. This time next year, I'll have been married for almost a year and if things go my way, and they always do, I'll have a newborn as well. I've not been foolish enough to bring up a baby again but the desire is always there. Behind every conversation is an inner struggle to not start my negotiations now instead of waiting until the honeymoon like I've told myself I would.

I can wait for Ana, I did for almost 29 years. But I can't wait to have a child with her.

"Christian?" I turn to the sound of my name, spoken so tenderly it takes my breath away.

"Wow you look great."

"You like it? Because I'm not sold on it but Carolyn said it was Marchesa and apparently that's a big deal and she said that it flattered my shoulders and was appropriate for a business dinner but still had an edge of sexiness about it and that I could eat and be comfortable in it." Wow, alright then.

"Ana, you look fantastic as usual. It's perfect." She sighs, long and low and then cocks her head to the side, the length of her thick chestnut hair swaying behind her.

"You look very handsome." She walks to me, the light turquoise of her dress making her green eyes the color of the sea. "I found these on top of my makeup kit, any idea where they could have come from?"

With a shy smile she shows me both ears, the three carat emerald cut diamond studs flashing brilliantly.

"Carolyn said to go simple since you had so much detail on the dress, I'm happy to see she didn't steer me wrong. They look beautiful on you."

"They are beautiful." She kisses me gently, the now familiar electric zing of her touch shooting straight to my toes. "What are they for?"

"Just because," I say as my arms wrap around her waist, "I like to see you adorned with beautiful things that I gave to you. I like to watch you from across a room and know that I'm still touching you." She shivers when I kiss each diamond, my hands roaming over the curve of her ass to the hem of her dress.

"We should go," she whispers against my throat, her lips alternating between kissing, grazing and sucking. "We're already late." But she makes no move to stop her tongue from licking the side of my neck in three slow licks, each one ending with a flick to my ear lobe, a sensation I've only recently discovered I like. A lot.

"Fuck being late, I don't give a shit. I need to be inside of you right now so lift up this pretty dress and let me slide between those sweet thighs of yours."

"Oh god," she groans, her hands stopping mine as I lift the dress over the curve of her hips. "We can't, I promised Ros I'd be there on time to help interpret and…I've got to…keep…that promise…shit, you are so good at that."

"I know. Let me show you just how good I am."

"We need to go…god." I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. I love knowing I've turned her on. "Now, we need to go now." With great effort she pulls back and walks to the door, her legs a bit unsteady under her and as much as I want to come all over that hot body of hers, anticipation can be fun too.

"Oh thank Christ. What the hell took you two so long?" Ros grabs Ana and begins to pull her towards the oversized table in the private room of La Pergola that we've reserved for the night. "Actually," she shoots back with a wink, "don't answer that, I have a feeling I don't want to know."

Immediately Ana is swept up in a conversation between Ros and the CFO from Shinzu's team. He seems harmless but I motion for Sawyer to stay next to her anyway because if he or anyone else so much as touches her, especially now that she's all horned up for me, I'll go ballistic.

"Mr. Grey, we are pleased that you have joined us this evening, we were told by mutual associates that you didn't socialize while in negotiations." Tsang stands before me in a tuxedo I recognize as Armani and bows politely.

"Yes, well I was hoping to have finalized everything by today but I expect we'll reach a resolution before Shanghai in November."

Isobella Stavini walks over then in a dress a bit too short to be modest and hands me a glass of scotch. I don't miss the way she allows her finger tips to brush against mine nor do I miss the way Tsang raises his eyebrows when he sees it.

"Mr. Grey, a toast," he calls, raising his glass while Isobella stands next to me as if she belonged there. I expected him to mention the acquisision or at the very least the upcoming trip but instead he says, "To your impending marriage and to a lifetime of happiness!"

He winks at Isobella who stands there dumbly next to me and launches right into his thoughts on one of the finer appendixes that we can't seem to find a middle ground on. I pay attention to him but my awareness of the woman next to me is on high alert after my conversation with Ana. I didn't tell her how the last time I was here, before Ana came into the picture, she had propositioned me inside the very same suite that we're staying in now. I didn't tell her that she was one of the women who had begun to strip, only one shoulder exposed before I rolled my eyes and demanded that she leave. I hadn't forgotten but it hadn't crossed my mind either until she showed up at our meeting yesterday. To be honest, that kind of brazen sexuality has been part of my life for almost 15 years. Ignoring it has become the norm.

When I saw her again I assumed that she would act professional, not only did I reject her last time but I brought along my fiancée this time, and for the most part she's been fine. But here she stands, definitely not in work attire, less than six inches from me. Twice now I've caught Ana's eye from across the room and both times she shot me a look that I know all too well.

So when I excuse myself to move away and Isobella reaches for my arm under the guise of wanting to discuss the menu with me, I'm not at all surprised to feel Ana press her body next to me, her hand flat against my chest, the diamond engagement ring sparkling under the light of the crystal chandeliers.

"Christian," she purrs, pressing her hip against my leg so that I turn a bit towards her. Hell yeah I like this Ana. "Mr. Gonzai was just telling me about friend of his in Seattle who's a sculptor. I was thinking we could meet with him to see if he has a piece we could commission for our new house." That diamond adorned hand reaches up and adjusts my bow tie and then slowly glides back down to rest over my navel.

"Anything you want sounds good to me." She smiles sweetly at Isobella whose arm hangs limply by her side.

"Well in that case, I'd like to eat. Isobella, Per favore dica la vostro staff che ora siamo pronti per mangiare?" Oh fuck yeah, baby, claws are out and they're Italian no less.

"Si, Ms. Steele, un momento per favore." Dejected she retreats, the ice cubes in the glass she was holding melting along with her hopes of ever snaring me.

"If that woman touches you again, we're going to have some serious problems, Grey." Now would not be the time to tell her about my last visit then.

At the table we all sit, Shinzu taking his place on Ana's right after greeting her with a smile, bow and small pat on her arm. The entire room studied the exchange with fascination but she took it all in stride and greeted him in kind before letting me push her chair in for her.

When dinner is served, a pigeon stuffed with foie gras I watch her reaction, impressed by the way she covers her displeasure at the food in front of her. Instead she engages Shinzu, a man known in the business world as being cold, calculating and nasty. But tonight, he speaks to her and those around him with kindness, intently listening to anything and everything Ana says. Three times he's reached out to make contact with her, small pats on her hand but something I've never seen executed in a business setting at this level.

Watching her, surrounded by people whose wealth and world influence is greater than anything she could have imagined, I'm again impressed by her sense of self. I had always been proud to have her on my arm, had been looking forward to introducing her to the business world as my wife but the thought that she could be my most effective weapon hadn't crossed my mind until this trip. But there she is, chatting about god knows what to my most formidable foe to date and he's eating out of her hand. The Ana effect.

After dinner, in the less formal setting of aperitifs and coffees Tsang approaches me alone, his eyes darting to Shinzu and Ana less than ten feet away. The two are listening to an animated story one of my acquisition managers is sharing, Ana interpreting while the two men laugh.

"Nineteen years I've worked for that man and I've not once seen him interact with anyone other than his wife and daughters that way." He points and then tips his drink back, shaking his head slowly. "If I didn't know better, I'd say your fiancée was exploiting his weakness."

"Oh yea, what's that?"

"Women with brains and wit. I look forward to seeing what she can do in Shanghai," he laughs, "but I'm afraid she'll take over everything if she spends any more time with him." I smile tightly, very much disinterested in any friendly conversation with the man but also wanting to avoid being offensive. I am so over this entire dinner, the forced conversations, the bull shitting for bull shittings sake.

But like there always is, there's someone else waiting to speak to me in the hopes that I'll give a fuck what they have to say. I usually don't though and over the years I've perfected the art of avoidance, a strategy I'm ready to employ when Isobella walks back in with a waiter, pointing him in my direction with a tray laden with cigars.

"Gentlemen," the waiter greets, bending at the waist in respect as he offers us a cigar. Tsang takes one, snips the end off and lights it, all the while watching the door parallel to me. When I politely refuse Tsang points behind me and says wryly, "Your attention is being requested."

APOV

I see it, even though I'm listening to a boring as hell joke that makes no sense to me I see that Italian hussy by the door with her eyes glued on Christian, just waiting for him to turn around. I don't need to look over to know he's not moving but the first chance I get I'm going to rip her face off. Two days I've put up with her pathetic and blatant attempts to get his attention and I have hit my limit.

"Get used to it sweet heart," Ros says into my ear in her usual gravelly voice. "Happens everywhere we go, every single time. Personally, I don't get it but whatever mojo he's got, it makes grown women act like fools."

"Every time?" I hiss, watching the edge of the room where Isobella has planted herself in the hopes that Christian would make his way over to her.

"Every time. Never saw him take the bait though if that makes you feel any better. Gwen and I always just thought he was asexual or something," her hands shoot up, "not that it's any of our business and it wasn't like we were always talking about it but you do have to wonder. I mean, super models would throw themselves at him and he'd be annoyed. I knew he wasn't gay, takes one to know one you know. But the minute I met you, when I walked in that office for your interview I took one look at him and knew he was a goner. But that," the fingers around her glass straighten to point towards the door, "is going to be your reality."

"Well that sucks." She laughs and takes a long drink. "I've never been a jealous person until now."

"You're not jealous, you're territorial. Even as a lesbian who finds the thought of a man's naked body revolting I can see how a billionaire in his twenties who looks good in pictures is appealing. Listen, I'm not one for girly girl conversations and shit like that but I'll say this. The chances of that man jeopardizing his relationship with you is nil. Zero. Nada. Bubkiss. He's stupid in love with you. And that," she turns on one foot, "is all the chit chat I can muster for the night. See you in Seattle!"

It takes only nine steps until I'm nestled under his arm and I try to not let it bother me as I stand next to him while he wraps up his conversation but I can feel her watching him. No matter how many times I run my hands over his arm or chest or how close I stand or how many times he leans down to kiss me or how tightly his arm is around my waist she stares. 'Get used to it' Ros had said. How?

"Christian," his body instantly reacts to my voice, dipping down to press a kiss to the diamond on my ear. "I'm ready to go up to our room now." With the speed of an Olympian we say our farewells to the men and walk towards the door. She moves, turning slightly to try to catch his eye but he totally ignores her. Somehow I manage to keep it classy by not giving her the finger but all I really want to do is turn around and let her know that in five minutes he'll be inside of me moaning my name. I hope she stands right outside the door to hear it.

Prescott ushers us into the elevator once Sawyer gives her the nod but before the doors slide shut Christian turns me to face him and grabs my ass, pulling me against him harshly with a growl. His eyes are alight with mirth at my obvious jealousy, something he assists me with when he bends his knees and suggestively pulls me against him again. I can still feel her heated stare but this time it's on me and not Christian.

He laughs, pulls back and casually rests his arm across my shoulder. "You like that, baby?"

"Ugh! She was relentless! I've never seen anyone so obvious in my entire life! Will we have to deal with her now that the business part of this trip is over?"

"No, and I'll make sure that in the future we never have to deal with her again. I'm sure there are other business managers."

"If I had to hear her say, 'Last time you were with us Mr. Grey' one more damn time I was going to knock her out!"

Once Sawyer completes his security sweep Christian picks me up bridal style and marches me straight to the bedroom. "About that," he starts, his eyes not meeting mine. "I debated disclosing this but if the roles had been reversed, I'd be super bent out of shape if you kept this from me."

"You're worrying me." I do not like where I think this is going. She's brunette, she's beautiful, she's small framed. I'm going to be sick.

"Ms. Stavini was one of the women you asked me about earlier." Oh god. "Last time I was here was the second time I'd worked with her and after a particularly nasty meeting that ended in me storming out and slamming a door so hard the frame broke, she came to check on me and also to inform me that we'd be using a different conference room the next day so that the door could be replaced."

"Yes?" I prod when he stops to unhook and unzip my dress, the weight of the beads pulling it to the floor in a heavy heap.

"I had just come back from the gym and she asked if she could get me a glass of water which I refused. I assumed she had gone and had just dialed Welch when she asked if she could help make a bad day a little better. I said no, turned to dismiss her and noticed that she had unstrapped one side of her dress."

"Oh my god she was stripping for you?" I storm, feet pounding on the plush carpet all the way to the door in nothing but a tiny pair of teal lace thongs and silver strapped heels.

"God fucking damn, Ana you look good. Fuck me, come on back here." I turn, the unasked question burning in my eyes.

"No, I didn't do anything with her. No, I didn't want to. Yes, I told her to leave, demanded it as a matter of fact and no, I didn't think to request someone else because it was a non-issue that I deal with on a regular basis."

"A regular basis. Am I going to have to go on every business trip with you?" He laughs and wraps his arms around me.

"I'd love that." And inside the storm calms because I know he really would. Ros is right, this is my reality and I'm going to have to learn how to deal with it because I refuse, absolutely refuse to live in fear of the 'what ifs'. Maybe, just maybe if I can learn to handle my emotions on this particular issue, maybe he can as well.

"This sucks."

"What does?" I do my best to hold back the moan as his fingertips graze down my side and hook into the string of my panties.

"You being so gorgeous and rich." He laughs, head thrown back.

"Most women would want that."

I wave my hand around as if his model good looks and enormous bank account are truly a burden to me. "Yea, well they don't have whores throwing themselves at their men."

"It's just a face." I roll my eyes. "And a bank account." I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my breasts. "And a big dick and a man who knows how to use it, now come here!"

"Uh uh."

"Uh uh?" His chin drops to his chest, hands stilled on the bow tie hanging carelessly from his collar.

"It's my birthday, you can't tell me what to do today." His brows shoot up along with the corners of his perfect mouth.

"Happy birthday, Anastasia."

"Thank you, Christian." I squeal when he picks me up again and giggle when he tosses me on the bed, his bow tie now carelessly tossed onto the floor next to where he kicked off his shoes and socks. Next go the cufflinks, platinum with sapphires set in them, tossed on top of the pile as if they were worthless. His pants go next and then he slows down, that knowing smirk dancing across his face as he unbuttons his shirt slowly, the pearl disks sliding through those small slits with sensual grace.

Hot damn Christian Grey is putting on a strip show for me. I might die, right here, right now on my 23rd birthday. And I'd be happy.

One arm shrugs, the white cotton falling to reveal toned biceps that make my belly flip. Another slow slide down his left arm, that smirk pulling at the corners of his lips until he's full on grinning, shamelessly rubbing his erection jutting out from under the black silk boxer briefs.

And because he knows I like it, because he knows what it does to me he pauses, widens his stance a little and reaches one arm back to lift his undershirt, each square muscle of his abdomen revealed in agonizing slowness. I'm embarrassingly wet and he hasn't even touched me.

"These too?" He asks, thumbs crooked in the band of his boxers. I nod slowly, mindful to keep my mouth shut so the drool doesn't spill out. And then, praise to all things holy, he's naked. Gloriously, unashamedly, naked.

"Can I just…" but I don't wait for permission, this is my birthday after all so I rise to my knees, scramble to the edge of the bed and run my hands over his body from shoulders to knees over and over again. "God your body," one brow pops up waiting for me to finish but I'm too focused on the feel of those square bulges on his abdomen. He breathes in and then bends slightly forward to exaggerate them, chuckling when I groan out a "Holy shit."

"I want," I say and point to his penis, the tip beaded with his desire for me.

"Well, I want," he jokes and points down to my panty covered sex.

"It's my birthday," I say softly, pulling the poor excuse for a thong down my legs while I kick off my heels.

"May I offer a solution?" Before I can answer he lifts me by my hips, flips me around and adjusts me so that my face is inches away from his penis. I'm upside down, standing in the middle of the bedroom still trying to get my bearings when I feel his lips tug on my clit, the sensation completely new due to the position I'm in. "Oh baby, you're soaking." He licks again, "I like that." Another lick. "A lot."

It takes a few seconds before I can fully grasp what's going on but when I do I swallow him whole, tip to base somehow all the way inside my mouth. "Fuck!" He yells, his arms tightening around my back. "Do that again, take me all the way in. Shiiiiit." I'm gagging but he's loving it and damn it, so am I. I never pegged myself as a sex fiend. Turns out, I am.

I'll admit it, hot as this is, it's killing my neck so when he turns and sits, slowly lying down so that he's underneath me I'm so grateful I go crazy, bobbing my head up and down as fast as I can while cupping his balls and moaning against his flesh. He matches my frenzy, fingers and tongue wreaking havoc on my body until I'm screaming around his dick, blind to everything but the lights flashing behind my closed lids.

My orgasm creeps up on me, taking me by total surprise as my body shudders above his, my mouth popping off even as my hand continues to move. When I cry out he presses two fingers in deeper while his other hand stops mine so that he doesn't come.

In a daze, my face pressed against his lower belly, I'm vaguely aware of being spun around pulled to the edge of the bed. The sheets are cool against my back and I know those are my ankles next to his ears because I recognize the pale blue polish but it's not until he cups my butt, lifts up and thrusts inside of me that I reenter my own body. With his head thrown back, small grunts of exertion falling from his lips he jack hammers me, hard and fast, his fingers digging into my hips to keep me from being shoved up the mattress.

My hands grip the sheets above my head as I hold on, enjoying the sight of this muscular gorgeous man losing control because of my body but then he turns his head and bites the inside of my foot, the accompanying flash of pain shooting strait to my pelvis before it centers on the wetness being invaded between my legs.

"Oh god!" I try to stifle the cries of pleasure he elicits from me but it's fruitless. When it comes to sex, I have absolutely no power over my own body. The point is further driven home when he takes each ankle and opens his arms as if he were on a cross.

"Touch yourself," he growls, his eyes glued to our union. When I hesitate, for no reason other than the fact that I'm still dazed he says it again, this time staring into my eyes until I do. "Yes, just like that. So hot, Ana, you are so fucking hot." Slowly now he pushes in all the way and then pulls out completely, pausing so that he can watch me for a few seconds before he repeats the process. "Faster, baby, I'm right there."

And just knowing that I do this to him, that I turn him on so much that he has to pace himself catapults me back to the sharp edge where pleasure meets oblivion. "Two fingers now, Ana, come on…give it to me." I answer with a sharp cry, his pace picking up so that the rhythm of his hips matches that of my fingers and just as I crest that wave he shouts out a harsh, "Fuck," and pulls out, dropping my left ankle just as my fingers still, their job done.

I watch, a fresh wave of lust washing over me as his hand strokes his shaft faster and faster until his mouth forms a perfect O and his eyes roll back while he jacks himself onto my belly, long ropes of white heat covering me from sternum to navel. When he's finished he falls forward, still holding himself, and flattens his free palm next to my face to brace himself up. His forehead presses against mine, his breath hot and fast against my temple. He shudders one last time and then kisses my lips, my taste still on his mouth.

"Mine," he breathes out and then holds up his hand, wet from me. "Yours. Fuck everybody else." My hands are shaky when I smooth the hair out of his eyes but he doesn't notice, his attention focused solely on my abdomen.

"You look good like that, all flushed and sweaty, legs open, my cum on you." I glance down at his groin, still shiny with my own arousal and smile up at him.

"You look good like that, all out of breath, muscles popping, your dick still wet from me." His eyes grow wide along with his smile.

"You said dick and did some dirty talk just then. You're really growing up, babe." I giggle and then shiver when his heat leaves me.

"Oh stop. Help me up so I don't get this all over the place. You sure are…prolific." He laughs and pulls me up with his free hand, throwing me a towel from the bathroom before turning on the water.

"How would you know?"

In the shower the steam makes my hair frizz instantly but the heat of the water coupled with the light scent of citrus the hotel pumps into the bathroom more than compensates for it. "Anastasia?" He stands naked just outside the stream of water, one hand on his hip, his face grim, lips pressed tightly together. "How would you know?"

"Christian, you know everything about my sexual history," his face grows grimmer, "and you know that there is no history." I shrug and reach for the body wash. "Girls talk." His eyes become slivers of gray.

"Do you talk?"

"I listen."

"Only listen?" Strong, well defined arms cross over his strong, well defined chest. I have seriously got it bad for him.

"I ask the occasional question but nothing that gives away any information." He takes a moment to process

"So the girls talk, you listen. What do they talk about?" I laugh because I'm not sure he actually wants to know.

"Logan. Casey. Elliot." His hand shoots up.

"Stop." He lathers the body wash in his hands and rubs it on my belly, then my arms and back, all the while contemplative. I count down the seconds…five…four…three…two…one... "So what have you learned? Other than the fact that I'm prolific?"

"Well…I learned that you're…above average as far as your size goes…" Damn I'm blushing. So ridiculous. He laughs and rinses his face.

"You didn't know that?"

"No!" I sputter. "How could I have?"

"Damn right. What else?"

"Let's see, apparently it's not normal to climax every time if you're a woman,"

"Unless you're with me."

"Right. Most people don't do it every day,"

"Unless you're with me."

"Are you going to let me finish a sentence?" He rolls his eyes and rubs conditioner into my hair, using his thumbs to massage my shoulders. "That feels so good."

"Good, you've got a real one in the morning by the pool outside. They asked if you wanted heated stones, whatever the hell that means, so I told them I had no fucking idea and to just bring them. " Yea, I can get used to this life. "What else?"

"Oh, you know." And just to torture him a bit more I step under the water and rinse off, taking my sweet time.

"No, I don't know. What else did you learn?" I smile, step back and wink.

"That you're not the only one in your family who likes to spank."

Authors note: The 'quartet' is actually a liberty I've taken but the basis is a group called "Nuttin but Stringz". I saw them preform in the subway years and years ago in NYC and have followed their careers.