Author's Note: I'm going ahead and posting even though I've almost run out of pre-written material and I have no idea how long it will take to finish. The good news is that the end is in sight. When finished, this story will have 32 chapters, plus an epilogue that takes place five years later. I'm also considering adding an out-take after that, from Mia's POV. But we shall see. More good news is that Chapter 29 is partially written, so it shouldn't take too long to have it out. I just don't know how soon I'll get to the rest of it.
I just wanted to take moment to vent. I purposefully waited to calm down before writing, but I'm still going to say something about waking up on New Year's Day to nothing but negative reviews. Granted, those of you who are so faithful with your positive reviews had already read the latest update and had already posted your nice reviews, which I always appreciate. But I was miffed at the ugliness of some people. Why write anything negative at all? I mean, I don't mind corrections, like altar instead of alter, and that kind of thing. Although OK is correct. Okay is also acceptable. They are both correct and acceptable. Anyway, I digress. One person wrote that she was disappointed in me for writing about Ana's pettiness in the last chapter. Well, OK, then. It's my story, and I wanted to write it that way. And I didn't think it was petty at all. Imagine marrying someone and then finding out that he had secretly purchased sexy images of you that your ex had taken, blown up, and displayed for the world to see... and very deliberately kept that secret from you for months, even while promising to share everything with you. I wanted that to be in the story because it makes it feel more real if it's not always sunshine and rainbows. Marriage is difficult, and they need to fight and make up. They're both still growing, but now they're growing together. I've already assured you it's HEA, so there's nothing to fear in an argument, whether petty or not.
Another person sent me a message about Togo, about how it's a good thing this is fiction because Togo is a horrible place. She knows because she went there once. Wow! And tell me, what do you know about me, reader? How do you know that's not my home country? How do you know you didn't just insult my homeland? And even if it's obvious by the way I write that I'm American (and I agree, it is obvious), how do you know my parents or grandparents didn't come from there? As it turns out, I do have family in West Africa. And it was a friend from Togo who used that phrase, "Togo is the place to go." He was in the USA at the time, but now he's back in Togo, and I don't think he or his family think it's horrible. My family are in Ghana, just next door, and in addition to English, they also speak the same African language that many people in Togo speak. They are family. They are good people. They are not horrible or dangerous.
My point here is that we need to be more careful with our words when making comments about a country we went to once when we don't know who from that country will read it. And my other point is that we need to be kind to each other. If you don't like something I write, that's OK. I have a thick skin, and if I stop writing it's because I'm busy, not because I've gotten discouraged because of negative comments. I don't really need to know if you don't like something, but I do feel happy when people write nice comments. When you read other fanfiction, if you don't like it, just let it go. You don't need to tell the writer you don't like it. It's not helpful or kind. And many a new fanfiction writer has given up because of negative comments. Is that really how we want to begin this new year, by making people lose heart? Don't we all already have enough negative stuff in our lives already? It's not difficult to be kind.
Now that I've had my say, I'll step down from my soap box and focus on Ana and Christian. We're skipping a few weeks here.
Chapter 28: Ray and Patrice Tie the Knot (Christian's POV)
Friday, February 3, 2017
"Holy shit, is that cake for us?" Ray Steele asked as he walked into the kitchen at Ciel de Grey, where I was currently talking with Mia and Louis. Well, Louis had just walked out the door as Ray was walking in. The golden boy was stopping by the bar to check on the wine pairings, and then he was going to Escala, where he was currently staying in one of my guest apartments on the same floor as Sebastian and Kate, to change into a suit out of the dirty jeans and t-shirt he'd been wearing as he helped Mia prepare today's feast. Mia had had the foresight to bring a change of clothes here, so she wouldn't need to leave to get ready for the wedding, like Louis did. Lucky for him, Escala was very close, and he still had plenty of time to get back before the ceremony started.
Yeah, I'd started calling the golden boy by his first name, at my sister's insistence. I thought it was weird that she called her professor by his first name, but I guess he wasn't her professor anymore, now that she'd passed her exams. I still didn't like the son of a bitch, but it wasn't because he was too friendly with my wife. Well, he was too friendly with Ana, but I knew he wasn't trying to take her from me. She'd assured me of that, and I had to trust her that she would know. I still intervened if he was getting too close to her. I just couldn't stop myself. But no, I was sensible enough to realize that he wasn't trying to get into my wife's panties. Not any more than any other warm blooded male.
My sister was another case, though. The bastard had a thing for her, and he knew that I knew it, and he still flirted with her constantly, whether I was there or not. I wasn't sure whether Mia had clued in to the fact that her former professor wanted to fuck her. She was very bubbly around him, but she was like that with everyone. Ana seemed to think that Mia knew and was into Louis, too. I wasn't thrilled with that prospect. I wasn't thrilled that Louis was even still here in Seattle at all. He was supposed to have only stayed for a few days, less than a week, but he'd now been here for over two weeks and was planning to still be here for another two weeks. He'd extended his trip to help us get Ciel de Grey off the ground, which I appreciated. He was even working for free, mainly advising and guiding Mia. Since he was here as a tourist, he wasn't allowed to work legally. He claimed that the money I'd paid him in France for making this trip was payment enough. I didn't buy his bullshit. I knew he had something up his sleeve. He wasn't helping Mia just out of the kindness of his heart. He wanted in her panties. And after all she'd been through recently, if that bastard hurt her, I would make sure he made it back to France on the next flight, but all of his body parts might not still be intact.
Mia answered Ray worriedly about the wedding cake, "Is it OK? I still have time to fix anything you don't like about the decorations." She looked critically at her masterpiece, a large two-tiered cake about the same size as the one she'd made us at Christmas. But where ours had been solid white, this one had little purple flowers running up the sides like a vine. And where ours had had fresh Christmassy shit like pine cones and holly, this one had a more traditional bride and groom on top, though it was interracial, just like Ray and Patrice.
"Anything I don't like about it?" Ray asked incredulously. "I've never seen such a fancy cake. This is even fancier than the one you made Annie. Patrice is going to love it. You've done an amazing job, Mia. I was expecting something a lot smaller and simpler when you said you were gifting us our wedding cake. I mean, we don't have that many guests coming, and this is a lot of cake. You've got to let me pay you something for it."
"No," Mia insisted. "Ana's my sister-in-law, and you're her dad. You're family now. This is my gift for your wedding. I'm glad you like it. The bottom tier is carrot cake, just like you wanted, and the top tier is lemon cake, just like Patrice wanted. The frostings are just like Ana and Christian's cake. Cream cheese on the bottom with the carrot cake, and vanilla bean on top with the lemon cake. And I made the violets because Patrice told me beforehand about the violet centerpieces, which I think are unique and beautiful. And she also said her bouquet would have a lot of purple flowers, and her sister and Ana are wearing violet colored dresses. Ana's cake was solid white without any colored flowers because that's what she wanted. But I thought Patrice would like the little splash of color that's in these little violets."
"She will," Ray agreed.
Their wedding had come together so quickly that they apparently hadn't even had time to discuss what they wanted for the cake, but Mia had done a spectacular job as usual. She was catering this entire wedding, which Ray insisted on paying the full catering price for, except for the cake, which Mia insisted was her gift. There were a few more guests than were at our wedding, probably around forty, which was actually more than twice the number at ours. The good thing about keeping ours so small was that people still didn't know we were married, so we weren't being hounded as much by the paps as we would have been if they'd known. Oh, they were still there, but it was winter, so Ana and I were always wearing gloves when in public. There still hadn't been any photos of us to surface from Dubai or Paris, so our secret was still safe… until today. We were going to announce our marriage as Ana's dad celebrated his. Ray and Patrice's ceremony and reception were both being held at Ciel de Grey, which we had closed for the whole day. It would reopen on Sunday for brunch.
"I sure hope she loves it," Mia fretted. "Ana agreed that Patrice would want the splash of color, but I wish I could have talked to her. I've just been so busy this week with our grand opening and all the catering orders that came in."
Ray told her, "To be fair, we've been pretty busy ourselves, with our doctor's visits, and then with her sister arriving from Chicago. But it's OK because this cake is too fancy to eat, and Patrice is going to love it. You even found a bride and groom that look like us. How'd you manage that?"
"Ana found them," Mia said. "And I hope Patrice likes the Togolese food I've prepared. I'm not sure I got the fufu right, but hopefully it's OK. The palm nut soup is tasty, if I do say so myself, but I don't know if it's like something her family would make. I wanted her to have a taste of home. That's just the second course, though. The third course is your favorite dish of all time, at least according to Ana."
"You made garlic butter rainbow trout with parmesan crusted roasted potatoes?" Ray asked surprisedly.
"I did," Mia admitted with a smile. "With roasted asparagus, too. There's a chicken option for the non-fish eaters, and a vegetable curry option for the vegans. I also made a vegan option to go with the fufu in the second course. It's what they'd call ground nut soup, and it has mushrooms in a peanut butter and tomato base, with a lot of spices, but not too hot. I liked the flavor, and I think it will go OK with the fufu, even if it's not very common in Togolese cuisine to have a vegan option.
"What's fufu?" I asked curiously. The soup she'd just described didn't sound good at all, but I didn't tell them that.
"It's a starchy ball made out of boiled yams. And I don't mean sweet potatoes. African yams aren't anything like what we think of as yams. They're white and not sweet. It's more like mashed potatoes, but thicker. According to my research, you eat it with soup, so I made a very traditional palm nut soup with beef and okra. It would have been more traditional if I'd used goat meat, but I knew most of the wedding guests wouldn't want to try goat meat. I'm not even sure where I would have purchased it, even if I had wanted to."
Ray told us, "We went to a restaurant a couple of days ago that had goat. I didn't order it, but Germaine did. That's Patrice's sister. She thought it was OK."
"I have a feeling that more Washingtonians would have chosen the vegan option if you'd gone with the goat," I told Mia.
"Yeah, that was my thinking," she responded. "Most people are afraid to try new things, and the second course is already new to most people attending the wedding. I didn't want it to be too weird for them. Peanut butter in soup is already weird enough to most people from here."
Just then, my mom, who was here helping with decorating, stuck her head in the kitchen door. "Is Ray in here? Oh, good. Ray, the minister has arrived and is looking for you."
Ray left with Mom, leaving me alone with Mia. As soon as they were out the door, Mia and I resumed the conversation we were having when Ray had come in and interrupted it. I was happier talking with her now that Louis was gone. I didn't mind that Mia had let the cat out of the bag that Ana was mad at me, but I didn't want that bastard to know how I'd fucked up. It was none of his business.
"You didn't answer my question," Mia reminded me. "Is Ana still mad at you? You told me what happened, and I agree with Ana that it was super creepy for you to have bought those photos from her ex-boyfriend. Bad move, Christian."
"I know, Mia, I know," I agreed. "I'm more fucked up than you all seem to realize. But to answer your question… no, she isn't still mad at me, but she isn't over it yet either. I've groveled. A lot. I've sent her roses at work everyday for the past two weeks. I've written her a three-page apology. I didn't think verbal was enough, but I've apologized verbally every single day for the past two weeks."
"What did you do with the photos?" Mia asked.
"I got rid of them," I answered. "Ana didn't want them in our house, so they're gone. I got rid of them as soon as she left to go see Kate that night. I took the prints out of the frames, ripped them up, and burned them. And then, I got Taylor to get rid of the frames, too. I think he probably gave them to charity. I didn't ask."
"Does Ana know you did all that?" Mia asked.
"Of course," I answered. "And she's speaking to me now. She never stopped speaking to me, actually. She's been sleeping in the same bed with me since it happened. She still makes love with me."
"God, Christian, spare me those details, will you?" Mia groaned. "It sounds to me like she's forgiven you, so why are you still apologizing everyday?"
I sighed. "I really fucked up, Mia, and I just… I feel like I burst her bubble. We were just so damn happy. Blissful. I've never experienced that kind of happiness in my life. I didn't even know it existed. And this connection that Ana and I share… there's nothing like it. And I've fucked it up. She doesn't trust me like she did before. I mean, she hasn't completely lost faith in me, but she's not over it. I'm so worried that she's finally realized just how fucked up I am, and she's not going to want to stay. She's going to leave me."
"She loves you, you big dummy," Mia assured me. "She's not going to leave you. And she knew who she married. She can't have been that surprised that you did it, even though it was incredibly stupid. But I'm not surprised you did it. You're a control freak, and you also have always taken what you wanted."
"Yeah, white male privilege, I know," I muttered. "Ana already gave me a well-deserved tongue lashing for my entitlement issues, as she calls them. She sees the world so much differently than I ever have… and I like it. I like seeing the world through her eyes. She's already changed me so much, and she's still changing me."
"You're a love-sick fool," Mia pointed out. "All I can say is… keep working at it, Christian. Keep groveling. She's worth it."
"Yes, she is," I agreed. "And… it's changing the subject, but I have a question, Mia. About Louis. What's going on with him?"
"I'm impressed you're calling him by his first name, Christian," Mia laughed. "Good job."
"You insisted on it, and you know it," I told her. "And you didn't answer my question. Avoidance techniques will get you nowhere."
She was blushing, which I didn't think was a good sign at all. "I'm not sure what you mean. What do you think is going on with him?"
I answered bluntly, "I think he wants more from you than you realize. And a successful chef like him wouldn't just volunteer his time in our new restaurant unless he wanted something. I just haven't quite figured out what he's after… other than you."
She didn't respond immediately, and when she did, it still wasn't a direct answer. "You do realize I'm an adult, don't you?"
"You're still avoiding the question," I pointed out.
She sighed. "OK, yes. I like him. And yes, he likes me, too. That much is obvious. I know it appears that I invited him today as my plus one just to be polite because he's helped us so much in the restaurant, but there's more to it than that. We like each other. There, are you happy I've admitted it? He hasn't asked me out yet, but I expect he will at some point. I'm not sure yet if I should accept his invitation when it comes, because he's returning to France, and I don't want a long-distance relationship."
"Mia, are you not concerned at all with the age difference?" I asked her worriedly. I'm not sure why I thought I'd feel better to hear her admit this shit. I didn't.
"No, he's not that much older than me. I like that he has more experience… I mean professionally! Shit, Christian, don't look at me like that!"
Yeah, she'd read me the way I usually read her, as I didn't try hard to disguise my disgust. A pretty boy like the golden boy was sure to have plenty of experience with the ladies. I wasn't sure yet if he was a player, and I would protect Mia from him with every resource I had if I found out that he was. So far, his background check only showed a couple of past relationships that seemed fairly normal. There weren't any red flags. But I'd instructed Welch to dig deeper.
"We aren't talking about your professional relationship right now. He wants in your panties, Mia."
"God, Christian, do you have to be so crude?" she complained. "I'm not going to fuck him. At least not anytime soon. I don't put out on a first date, and I can't see how we could possibly have more than one date before he leaves, if we have any dates at all. I'm not counting today as a date. A date would require him to take me out to dinner in a nice restaurant, not Ciel de Grey. And maybe a movie or something. I'm just not sure it's a good idea, with him leaving so soon. But… there is something I want you to consider, though."
I didn't like the look she was giving me, but I listened to her anyway. "What's that?" I asked her.
"Louis has expressed interest in moving to Seattle and helping us run this place. He said it like a joke, but I think he'd really do it if we asked him and worked out all the details for him to work here legally, and paid him enough. You know I can't do it all. I mean, I think things are going well in the kitchen for the lunch service, and for all the catering orders we have coming in. I'm excited about Sunday brunch. But I can't do dinner, on top of all of that. And I'd really like us to be able to open for dinner at some point in the not too distant future. Who better to run the kitchen for dinner at Ciel de Grey than a renowned French chef?"
"Did he put you up to asking me?" I asked her suspiciously.
"He doesn't even know I'm thinking about it, much less talking to you about it," Mia insisted. "We've only toyed with the idea, not discussed it seriously. He loves Seattle. He'd love to stay longer than he's planning, but he can't. And if we were to ask him to come to work for us, he'd need a work permit. He would need a visa. Dad told me what kind of visa, but I don't remember what it's called. Dad knows an immigration attorney who could help us with the paperwork if we decide to do it."
"So… you want to be your former professor's boss?" I asked her. Hopefully, that thought would put her off the idea.
"No!" she answered emphatically. "But I'm not Isaac's boss either. I don't want to be either of their boss. The only people I'm OK supervising are the kitchen staff during lunch and catering jobs."
"What about Isaac?" I asked her. "If Louis moves here, and the two of you become a thing, what are you going to do about Isaac?"
She looked confused. "Christian, Isaac and I are just friends. Yeah, I know he likes me, but I've made it clear to him that I only see him as a friend. We hang out sometimes, but we don't date. I don't want to fuck Isaac. He wants me like that, but I don't want him, and he knows it."
Well, that was news to me, that they'd actually discussed something so personal. Isaac was clearly not as fucked up as I was if he was able, at his age, to talk to a girl he liked and accept the fact that she didn't feel the same way. I wasn't convinced, though. I saw the way he looked at her.
As we'd planned in early December, Isaac had gone back to UCLA, finished his exams, and then moved home to Seattle. He was still taking a hybrid course that would require him to travel to Los Angeles a couple of times this semester, but the rest of his course work was the internship that he was now doing with me. I'd worked it out for him to work as the business manager at Ciel de Grey, which was owned by GEH, so his internship was with GEH. He would also be able to spend one afternoon a week shadowing me. The rest of the time, he worked closely with Mia. I had just started having a late lunch with the two of them once a week, after the lunch service at Ciel de Grey ended. So I'd seen them interact. I'd known when they came to me with their idea of hiring Isaac as the business manager that he had a thing for her, but I'd thought at the time that she felt the same way. But no, I guess her attention had been on her professor in France.
A thought occurred to me, and I had to know.
"Mia, did you and Louis have anything going on in France, when you were his student?" I asked.
She looked appalled. "No! He was my professor. I mean, I was attracted to him, but he would have never… He was a professional. He didn't start… you know… acting interested in me until I finished the program."
I made a mental note to have a "heart to heart" with the golden boy to find out just how true Mia's thinking was. But I was relieved to know that he didn't pursue her then. I wasn't so sure, however, that he wouldn't have welcomed her into his bed if she had seemed open to the idea, even then. I doubted seriously that the guy was as honorable as Mia seemed to think he was.
Our conversation was interrupted by the staff that Mia had hired to serve Ray and Patrice's wedding dinner. All of the food was already prepared, as Mia and Louis had cooked it all this morning with a couple of assistants, who Mia had already sent home. The servers hadn't needed to arrive until now. They were in charge of keeping the food warm so Mia could enjoy the wedding ceremony, and then serving. All four of them, two men and two women, were wearing tuxedos. Mia gave them a few instructions, and then she and I made our way into the dining room, where everything was ready for the wedding ceremony to proceed. A few guests had already arrived, and Ray was talking with some of them. My parents were talking with others. Mia disappeared into the office, where I knew she was changing into her wedding clothes. Isaac wasn't here today, so she had the space to herself.
"You're a natural, Mia," I told her as we took our seats a few minutes later. Mia had quickly changed her clothes and touched up her makeup, and she looked nice. I thought her short, low-cut plum colored dress was too revealing, but I'd learned long ago to bite my tongue. Her amethyst jewelry looked nice, though. I told her, "I knew you were a great cook, but I wasn't sure how you'd be overseeing staff. But you're doing a really good job."
"You think so?" she asked uncertainly. "Did you notice that they're all older than me? It feels weird. I'd really be fine with just cooking and letting somebody else boss people around."
"But you knew what they needed to be doing right now, so you were the one who needed to give them instructions," I pointed out.
She shrugged. "I'm happy with how things are going at Ciel de Grey. Nobody has questioned my authority, so I'm OK with things as they are. For now, anyway. I want to open for dinner as soon as we're able, but I know it's more than I can handle."
I sighed. I knew what she wanted me to say right now. Should I? Well, shit. "OK, Mia, I'll talk to him," I agreed. I hoped I didn't regret it. If the golden boy moved to Seattle and took over the dinner service at Ciel de Grey, there would be no question that he would also pursue my sister. It was inevitable. I had no idea whether he simply wanted to fuck her and move on, or whether he wanted a relationship… I wasn't sure which of those two scenarios I preferred, actually, because I wasn't sure which would be less likely to hurt her. It depended on what she wanted. And I wasn't going to ask her, at least not right now.
"Is Ana here yet?" Mia asked me.
"Yeah, they arrived about ten minutes ago," I replied.
I'd been checking my text messages every few minutes, and Ana had been updating me because she knew I would worry if I didn't hear from her. She'd spent the morning helping Patrice get ready. Ana was standing with Ray as his attendant. She and Ray had joked about it, calling her his "best girl." In reality, though, she'd spent the past couple of weeks filling the role of a bridesmaid before the wedding, and bonding with her new stepmother. Patrice's sister Germaine was her maid of honor, but she hadn't been able to travel from Chicago until a few days ago. Apparently, she was a graduate student at Northwestern. None of their extended relatives had been able to travel from Togo. Patrice explained that even if they could have afforded it, they wouldn't have been able to get visas in time. I hadn't realized how difficult it was for people in their part of the world to get tourist visas to the USA, but Patrice explained that most people were denied, even if they had invitations. As it turned out, she was happy to have just Germaine and Ana as her only attendants. That was plenty, in my opinion.
"Stop worrying, Christian," Mia whispered. "Ana loves you. She'll forgive you."
I sighed. Mia knew me well. Of course, that was where my mind was, on whether my bond with my wife would ever get back to what it had been before she'd walked into that room and seen those photos hanging on the wall. How could I have been so stupid? I was a thoughtless moron. I didn't deserve her forgiveness, but I needed it like I needed air to breathe.
Ray and Patrice had live musicians, a stringed quartet, which began to play. I was happy to hear that they were actually good. Probably about half of the guests had arrived by now, and there was still another twenty minutes to go before the service was supposed to start. We were all already seated at the tables where we would eat our dinner immediately after the short ceremony. Ray was walking around talking to people, and I'd never seen him looking so happy. It was really good to see the broad smile on his face.
Mom and Dad had been chatting with people, but they came and sat at our table. Ana and Germaine would be sitting with us, too, after the ceremony. Ray and Patrice would be sitting alone at a head table that faced everyone else. First, though, they would all stand a little to the left of that table, where the minister was currently standing. There was a floral arch like the one we'd had at our wedding, except that instead of red roses, this one had a lot of purple flowers. I'd seen Ana's dress, so I knew it was the same color as most of the flowers in the arch and in the centerpieces. Patrice clearly liked purple.
"The flowers look great, Mom," Mia said. "Which florist did they use?"
Mom answered Mia, but I wasn't paying attention. Louis had just walked through the door, and he was headed our way. I had to admit, he was a handsome son of a bitch. I noticed that he caught the eye of more than one of the ladies… and even a couple of men. However, he only had eyes for my sister, so it seemed. Once he located her when he walked through the door, his eyes hadn't left her. And a moment after he walked through the door, Mia's own eyes drifted towards him, as if she felt his presence. Shit, did they have a connection, too, like Ana and I did?
"I hope I'm not arriving too late," Louis commented worriedly as he took his seat next to Mia. I understood his concern because most of the tables were full now, so almost all the other guests had arrived.
"Right on time," Mia responded. "We still have another ten minutes before they're supposed to get started. Nice suit." He was wearing a navy pinstripe suit with a navy shirt and no tie. My guess was Louis Vuitton, but I wasn't sure. It was a nice suit, though, not cheap shit.
"Merci," he replied in French. He continued in his native tongue as he complimented Mia. "Vous êtes belle. Comment vous êtes-vous préparée si rapidement et avez-vous quand même réussi à être la plus belle femme de la pièce?"
Mia blushed. Yeah, the bastard had just called her the most beautiful woman in the room, even though she'd gotten ready very quickly. And I knew he was speaking French now because the bastard knew Mia would find it sexier than English. It wasn't because he didn't want others to understand him, because he knew I spoke French, too.
Mia told him, "Je ne suis pas plus belle pour la mariée." She didn't think she was more beautiful than the bride.
The golden boy leaned towards her and said, "Eh bien, la mariée n'est pas encore dans la chambre, n'est-ce pas?"
No, asshole, the bride isn't in the room yet. I couldn't take any more of watching him flirt with my sister, so I started my own conversation with him.
"Louis, Mia tells me that you really like Seattle," I began. I was trying to sound conversational, not irritated like I felt, and also not businesslike because we were at a social event.
"Oui, I love Seattle," he responded. "There's a lot to love here." Shit, was he hinting that he loved Mia, or that he could? They hadn't even gone out on a date yet. Seemed a bit premature to me.
"But do you love it enough that you'd want to live here?" Mia asked him. "I mean, Paris has so much more to offer."
"Paris is a dirty city with rat-infested subway stations, and none of the buildings have air conditioning," he responded. "If I had a chance to move to Seattle, I'd… how do you Americans put it? 'Grab the bull by the horns'?"
Mia glanced at me meaningfully. I still didn't like it, but I decided to take the hint. If any red flags appeared in his deeper background search, or in my conversation with him, I would stop it before it happened. I told Louis, "I have a business proposition I'd like to run past you. This isn't the time or place, but let's meet sometime this week."
"I'm free tomorrow morning," he told me eagerly. Yeah, he had to know what I was going to ask him, and he wanted to, as he said, grab the bull by the horns. He hadn't been joking about that. "I'll be here helping Mia get ready for Sunday brunch, but not until later in the day. We could do Starbucks, maybe around ten?"
It was obvious that he was trying to sound American as he said, "do Starbucks." But his accent was decidedly French, and that wasn't going to change. Mia did have a good point about having a renowned French chef as the face of our upscale French restaurant. And I already knew he was an excellent chef.
"Yeah, OK," I agreed. "The one on the corner, across from the Escala lobby?" I confirmed.
He nodded with a smile. "I've gotten quite friendly with them after going there everyday for the past two weeks. The barista writes my name on the cup before even asking me. She spells it L-O-U-I-E. I find it humorous."
I'm sure he had gotten "quite friendly," smug son of a bitch. I'd need to put a covert officer on him to make sure he wasn't doing more than just flirting with the baristas. That would especially be necessary if he began a relationship with my sister.
I glanced at Mia, who was smiling at me. I'd made her happy, but it wasn't a done deal yet, so she shouldn't get too happy just yet. If she knew how I really felt about the son of a bitch, she wouldn't be smiling like that. The golden boy still needed to prove himself to me. I hoped for Mia's sake that he actually lived up to his name, but it all remained to be seen. But I would give him a chance to prove himself, which I thought was more than fair. The idea of him as our chef was palatable, but the idea of him fucking my baby sister was not.
Then, Louis Dior was the last thing on my mind because the love of my life walked through the door looking as radiant as ever in her purple dress. The stringed quartet had begun playing a different melody, and Ana walked out with her dad. Ray hadn't seemed nervous at all when he was talking to guests earlier, but now, he did. Ana appeared to be reassuring him. I couldn't hear them from where I was, but I could read their body language. When she looked my way and smiled at me, my heart jumped in my chest. We were going to be OK. We had to be OK. I would do absolutely anything for us to be OK.
My eyes didn't leave Ana as the wedding began, except for briefly when the bride walked in. Patrice looked pretty in her wedding dress. She'd gone for a cream-colored lacy dress that was about mid-calf. She'd also followed Ana's example and left off the veil, opting instead for flowers in her hair, not in a crown like Ana had worn, but artfully woven into her braids. It looked like she'd spent hours getting it done. But then my eyes were back on my wife, who was watching Patrice happily. Ana was stunning, and she hadn't needed hours to get ready. She'd probably spent more time than Mia had, but she hadn't needed to. She was just naturally so lovely.
Ray and Patrice had a more traditional service with a minister officiating. They repeated the traditional vows, and then the minister even preached a short sermon. I didn't really pay that much attention, as my eyes were on Ana again, just marveling at her beauty, and the fact that she was my wife. I had to fix things, and I believed I knew how to do it. Ana was bothered by my wealth and my subsequent entitlement issues. She wanted me to give myself a pay cut. And I was going to. She was right; I didn't need to bring home a ten-figure income. I could afford to lose a couple of zeros from my annual salary while raising the income of most of my employees. And I also had plans to donate several billion. I hoped she'd help me with dispersing the funds.
"Did you even look at the bride and groom at all during their ceremony, or were you watching me the entire time?" Ana asked me humorously as we danced together a couple of hours later. We'd finished dinner, which was surprisingly delicious, and now I finally had my wife in my arms where she belonged. I was holding her close enough that we could speak in each other's ears and be heard above the music. Her hair smelled amazing, as always.
"I may have glanced their way once or twice," I answered unashamedly. "I liked watching the expressions on your face as they exchanged their vows. I think it brought back memories. Very recent memories. It did for me, anyway."
She nodded. "Yeah. When I promised, among other things, to be patient, kind, and forgiving, through the good times and bad times. Walking into your old playroom and seeing those photos of me hanging there was a bad time. It felt like a betrayal. And I have forgiven you, Christian. You've got to stop. I let it go over a week ago. You've groveled enough, which I wanted you to do at the time, but you've done it. The written apology was the best thing you could have ever done. But it's enough. You don't need to keep buying me flowers to try to prove yourself or something. I know you're sorry for keeping that secret from me. You should be, and you are, and it's done. Those horrible photos are destroyed. You're replacing them with our wedding photos. Let's move on."
"How do I regain your trust, Ana?" I asked worriedly. "I kept a secret from you that I never should have kept, and I'll never do that again."
"You have my trust, Christian," she assured me, and I'm sure she meant it, but I wasn't convinced. "I mean it," she insisted. Yeah, she could read me just like I could read her. "I believe you when you say you'll never do it again. Why are you struggling to believe me?"
I explained, "There's a spark that we had before that we haven't had since you saw those God damned photos hanging on the wall. And I want that spark back, Ana. I will do anything to deepen the bond we share, and fix things when they get off. I love you, and you mean everything to me. How do we fix this?"
She was quiet for a few moments. If I could see her face, which I couldn't as we danced, I'm sure she would have had that wrinkle between her eyes that she gets when she's deep in thought. I always wanted to kiss that wrinkle, and kiss her worries away.
"I don't think we've lost our spark," Ana finally told me. "I think what you're sensing is that I've been processing things over the past couple of weeks. The discovery of your…umm, artwork… simply made me realize that I'm the wife of a billionaire. I mean, I knew that already, of course, but I've been enjoying your wealth. I could go Christmas shopping for family, and decorate our penthouse, and plan a wedding in three weeks, which I never could have done without money. But I realized… you became the youngest self-made billionaire in the country by being who you are. Self-centered. Self-focused. That's why you bought the photos from Jose without telling me. You wanted them, so you took them. It's what you do. And I love you, Christian. All of you. But… I really don't want to become that. And honestly, I'm not sure that's the kind of man you want to be either, if you examine yourself closely enough. You don't want to be richer than Bill Gates, do you? Really?"
"No," I answered her without hesitation. "There was a time when I thought I wanted to be the richest man in the world, and I would have done just about anything… anything legal, anyway… to get there. Because I knew I was smart enough and good enough to do it, and I wanted to prove it to the world. I thought the accomplishment would mean something to me, but in the end, I just felt empty. But now, those days are long gone, thanks to you, my Ana. I want to feed the hungry instead. I realized… I wasn't happy with all my wealth. The happiest day of my life was the day you married me, and we spent very little money on our wedding. It wasn't necessary."
"Oh, money was necessary for our wedding," Ana disagreed. "My dress was expensive. The flowers were expensive."
"OK, relatively speaking," I acquiesced. "We spent several thousand dollars on everything. Not millions."
She snorted in my ear, and it was sexy as hell. "No, not millions," she agreed.
"You know your sexy snort makes me hard, and we're in public," I warned her.
"God, Christian, when you say things like that…" She sounded flustered, like maybe I was turning her on. Yep, I still had it.
"What, Ana?" I asked her innocently. "When I say things like what? And what happens?" I really just wanted to hear her confess to being horny. Would she tell me I was making her wet while we were here on the dance floor?
"I know what you're doing," she told me humorously. "We're at my dad's wedding, Christian. I'm not going to fuck you in a broom closet while my dad is waiting for me to give a wedding speech. Save it for later, OK?"
Would I have fucked her in a broom closet, if she had agreed to it? Damn straight, I would. But instead, I would do as she asked and show her later exactly what her sexy little snorts did to me.
The paparazzi had gotten wind of today's wedding at Ciel de Grey, and they were all spreading the lie that Ana and I were tying the knot. We had all completely anticipated this, and it had been Ray's idea to use his wedding to get the word our about ours. We knew it wouldn't be long before we were pictured with our wedding bands, as Spring was approaching, so we would be losing the gloves. Besides, it was almost Valentine's Day, and I was planning to take my wife on a real honeymoon. We would spend a week in Hawaii. It wasn't long enough, but we couldn't be away longer than that right now. We could spend more time there in the summer, after we bought our vacation home.
"Those assholes are going to figure it out sooner or later. You need to get ahead of them, so you can control it," Ray had told us both about a week ago. "My wedding's the perfect time to do it."
Ana had agreed with him, saying that we needed to own our narrative, not let the vultures think they could control us. If we told it ourselves instead of waiting for the news to get out through some lucky son of a bitch who caught us holding hands in public showing our rings, then we could better control how much information they had. Ana said that we needed to give them just enough but not too much. Our publicity team had helped figure out those details.
We had coordinated with my security and publicity teams to make a public statement as we were leaving Ray and Patrice's wedding that night, taking advantage of the presence of the paparazzi that were waiting for us, hoping to get a paycheck pose from our so-called wedding day, which they were all convinced it was. With Ana by my side, I would speak to the paps again, like I had that morning outside the Fairmont Hotel after we had first made love. Ana would remain silent, just as she had that morning, for the most part. I would announce that we were married and a few details about our wedding, but not too much.
We were surrounded by security as we were leaving, but we walked out the front door instead of taking the elevator to the basement parking garage. That action in itself made the paps go wild, as they knew I never did that. Especially after being shot, we were very careful. Thanks to our added security, who had already cleared the entire area, the paps were close enough to shout their foolishness, but not close enough to touch us.
"Christian, did you and Ana get married today?"
"What did your wedding decorations look like?"
"How much did Ana's dress cost?"
"Ana, why aren't you wearing your wedding dress now?"
"Is Ana a gold digger?
"Ana, are you pregnant?"
"Why didn't your mother attend your wedding, Ana?"
"Did you sign a prenup?"
Complete and total nonsense. At least Ana didn't seem bothered this time by their asking if she was pregnant. She'd learned. I wasn't sure how she felt about them asking about her mother. She barely ever talked about Carla. I knew from my own background checks that Carla was living in Florida with husband number five, an insurance agent named Bob Adams. Carla had become a real estate agent. There wasn't really anything else of significance. Ana didn't show any emotion when they asked intrusive questions about her mother. I would have to ask her about it later.
As planned, I stopped and looked towards the vultures. I spoke the words that I'd planned to with my publicity team: "There was, indeed, a wedding that took place today in Ciel de Grey. Ana and I want to wish her father, Raymond Steele, and his beautiful bride Patrice every happiness. They had a beautiful ceremony today with just family and a few close friends."
The crowd looked deflated. It wasn't what they were expecting. But it didn't take them long to recover.
"What about you? When are you and Ana getting married?"
"Are you engaged?"
I answered, "With the blessing of Ray and Patrice, who know that we do not want to in any way detract from their happiness, Ana and I are taking this moment to announce that we got married on Christmas Eve. We had a very small, very private family ceremony at our family cabin in Aspen, Colorado. We would like to continue to keep the details of that day private, but I will say this: It was the happiest day of my life. We will be posting a photo from our wedding on social media later today. That's all the questions we're going to answer."
We turned and went back inside the building, straight to the elevator, down to our car. None of them had an opportunity to ask any questions. Well, they asked, but they didn't get any responses to the stupidity that they yelled at us. And at the same moment that we reentered the building, my publicity team would be posting the prepared statements with an accompanying photo that Ana and I chose together. We had many great wedding photos; Kate had done a good job multitasking as Ana's maid of honor and our wedding photographer. The one photo that we'd chosen to share with the public was just a full body shot of the two of us smiling at the camera. You could see Ana's beautiful dress and that crown of roses on her head. And my new suit looked pretty damn fine, if I do say so myself. We looked like the power couple that we are.
"God, that was intense," Ana commented as we took the elevator down to the basement parking garage.
"It always is," I agreed. "I hope those assholes don't expect me to make it a habit of talking to them."
"Why do they always assume that I'm pregnant?" she asked, sounding more amused than offended this time. "I can just imagine what they're going to be printing now that we've announced our marriage. When people get married as quickly as we did, it's usually because of a little bun in the oven."
"Not necessarily," I told her. "But I hope you're not going to start again with thinking you look fat. You know you don't. And, for the record, when the time does come for you to have our child, I look forward to watching your body change, knowing you're carrying life that we created."
"That's not going to happen for a few years, Christian," she insisted. "Neither of us is ready to be a parent. We still have some growing up that we need to do. Me, professionally, and you, emotionally. I think we're both doing really well, but let's not be in any hurry to have babies, OK? I want to have them someday, but not anytime soon."
I reassured her, "Don't worry. I know it's not going to happen for a few years, but I'm just saying, when the time comes, don't freak out about it. I love you Ana, and you will always be the most beautiful woman in the universe to me."
She looked pensive, and when she spoke again, she changed the subject. "How did they know about Carla?" she wondered. "I mean, how did they know she wasn't here today for what they thought was my wedding?"
I shrugged. "Who knows. Some of those assholes actually do their research. Are you worried about her?"
Yes, she was. I could see the concern on her beautiful face as she admitted, "I hadn't even thought about her, but now… Yeah, I'm worried that once she finds out I've married the 'youngest self-made billionaire in the country,' she's going to come knocking for her share. I wouldn't put anything past her. And I don't want to give her a damn thing. If she wanted to have a place in my life as my mother, then she should have been a mother to me. She never was. Everything was always about her."
I determined at that moment to do everything in my power to protect Ana from her mother.