Chapter 1
Christian
I look out at the sea of tuxedos and gowns, my eyes searching of their own volition. It always happens. I unconsciously take stock of the brunettes. You never know. After all, I'd met one in the wild once before, one who'd—
"I'm sure you've thought the same, Grey." My train of thought is interrupted by a grating voice guffawing entirely too close to my ears. And invading my space entirely too much, I realize as I register the drunken elbowing of the arm I'm getting from him as though we're long-lost fucking brothers.
I don't fucking think so. "Pardon me, gentlemen." Pardon me, assholes. Before the frat boy turned tech bro whose name I can't recall can answer, I deftly weave through the small gathering of them that have cornered me towards the bar.
Why in the hell did I agree to this? I'm leaning an elbow against it and surveying tonight's opulent, idiotic crowd once again when the mousy-looking barman clears his throat. "Sir?"
I get it. Order or move your ass. But people like him don't say things like that to people like me. "Double scotch," I mutter.
When I was younger, I think I might have had a glimmer of hope that one day I would become accustomed to such events and they might become less intolerable, but I didn't fully realize that a lifetime of wealth meant a lifetime of having your ass kissed by sleazy social climbers who wouldn't hesitate to fuck you over if they were given half the chance.
The waiter wordlessly places the drink in front of me and I take a sip, letting the burn linger on my tongue a moment. No, it hadn't become the slightest bit more bearable, especially not since… I swallow, the bitterness redirecting that thought. We both know that's a fucking place not to go. But it's where I always seem to go. I also didn't realize that would happen. And that's why I don't go to these things.
I'd met one once before, one who'd turned my entire world upside down.
Sometimes someone in the crowd has a similar sort of shade of chestnut to the one that she had, and it gives me pause. Sometimes one is about her height and build, and I look twice. Sometimes one of them even has a gown on similar enough to the ones I'd put in her closet for her, in another life entirely, that I wonder if we have switched dimensions. But every time, there's never a real reason to look.
It makes no sense, really. She wasn't from this world. This Cinderella has probably never even been to the ball. It's not her world. If I really wanted a repeat of that encounter, I should be ogling at my office door waiting for someone to skin their knees. Then again, I have no idea what her world consists of these days. She could be an astronaut now, for all I know. The one thing I ever did for her was listen when she made it very clear that there was nothing more for us to talk about. Eventually, anyway.
And really, I don't want to talk. My world wasn't for her. She wasn't good for me.
An uncomfortable feeling ripples through my chest at that thought. No, that was never the problem. I wasn't good for her. If I'm honest with myself, and I occasionally allow myself to be, she was good for me in ways I didn't know anyone could be. Years down the line, there are times that I can admit that to myself.
A hand claps downs on my shoulder as I'm draining the glass, attempting to wash away the residual distress that recalling this forgotten era of my life gives me. "I was going to say thanks for coming, but I'll reserve that for when I see something out of you that isn't a scowl."
I somewhat roughly put the glass back down, my melancholy quickly being replaced by mild irritation. "The fuck are they doing here?" I gesture at the Silicon Valley wannabes with my chin.
He shrugs. "They donate big. You know she had to invite them."
Ah, yes, his beloved Katherine Kavanaugh. Upon becoming a society wife, she had founded this charity with the combination of her family and our family's money, with her new husband's profession in mind. She's all about constructing new hospitals and shit in third world countries now, or at least throwing the parties to generate the funds to do so. When she's not being an annoying ass cutthroat journalist.
I had never imagined the one remaining connection I'd have to her would be this blond nightmare, not that it had ever mattered. She's never come up, not that I've ever sought out much conversation from her. And since she and Elliot had gone the impromptu, drunken Vegas route to the altar, there hadn't even been a wedding to see her at. Still, I heard the mention of "Auntie Ana" out of their toddler's mouth last Thanksgiving, so I know there's something there. That's another thing I try not to think about.
Both thankfully and infuriatingly, he never says anything about it either. "So why am I here?" I ask.
"You donate big to everything. And you're kind of a big deal. I think maaaybe she wanted to throw you to the sharks a little bit, and I sure wouldn't mind that show either." He says this sardonically, with the sort of good-natured disdain that can only exist between brothers, and I know he's referring to the gaggle of new money that had swarmed me as soon as I'd walked in. "And Mom thinks you need to get out more. You're a hermit."
"I go out."
"You go to work and the occasional family gathering."
"Precisely, so why is she complaining?"
"I don't know, dude, because she's your mom and she wants you to be happy. Shocker, I know. And I think she kind of always thinks someone is going to try to take you out." He holds his arms up, miming a sniper, and I roll my eyes.
"That's ridiculous." It's not entirely ridiculous in theory, but it is knowing that I employ Taylor. That man runs my security team more tightly than the marines.
"It's happened before," he responds, more subdued.
I grimace as I recall the one other remaining connection I'd had to her in the aftermath. The disgruntled employee at the publishing house I'd acquired who'd just happened to have a festering resentment towards me. He'd been fired immediately after the routine background check had shown a string of suspicious activity. What a fun time that was… I'd at least been distracted from the angst of losing her by the headache of this motherfucker trying to sabotage my helicopter and break into my business. Eventually, he'd found his way into my apartment where he was apprehended, and my lawyers did the rest. We also took the liberty of providing evidence for a slew of sexual assault cases against him. He won't see daylight for a long while.
The irony of the timing was that I almost wouldn't have minded if someone had done me in. I had never before and never since felt so… directionless. I didn't know where to go from there.
I clear my throat, dispeling that thought. "And nothing happened. I'm still here."
"She just cares." He turns his head and points to some top-shelf bottle, signaling the waiter. "Anyway, it's lucky you did come. Looks like the newbie was a no-show." He picks up his drink and swirls it around. "What do you make of that, anyway?"
"I haven't really thought about it," I lie.
He laughs. "Bullshit. Isn't that all the paps are yelling at you these days? Maybe we were hoping to get you in the same room as 'the new Christian Grey.' A pissing contest would be great for future party invites."
Though I would never admit it, I'm well aware that the main reason I agreed to this invitation was to scope out this fucker, not as a display of brotherly unity. Quite honestly, the comparison between us pisses me off. I made my fortune at age twenty-one. I came from less than nothing. What does a newly wealthy tech entrepreneur at age twenty-eight with a perfectly normal middle-class background have to do with me? Location, that's it. The neophyte has recently relocated himself and his company to Seattle. Idiotic move. As the old saying goes, I have serious doubt that this town is big enough for the two of us.
"It doesn't make a whole lot of sense," Elliot continues. "Rumor has it, that guy is in a happy relationship, which God knows Christian Grey would never be caught dead in," he chortles.
"How do you even know him?" I haven't heard that he's hobnobbing with Seattle's elite yet. How did Kate and Elliot of all people reel him in?
He abruptly shifts position, standing up a little straighter and shifting his weight from foot to foot. Okay, touchy subject. "We've just seen him around, I don't know."
I check my watch, quickly losing patience for this whole thing. "Then seeing that I'm not the guest of honor anyway, I'll be heading out."
"Oh, come on, dude, I didn't mean it like that." His voice immediately shifts to whiny. "Seriously, Kate will kill me if I let you leave early. She wants this to go well."
God forbid Katherine be inconvenienced. "I'm sure she'll be thrilled with the turnout," I comment wryly, just as Alpha Delta Pi or whoever the fuck I've just escaped roars with laughter. "Maybe if you're lucky, they brought a keg with them." I scan the room until I meet Taylor's eyes, giving him a nod.
"Look, I know they're annoying, but if you could just—"
"I'm sorry, Elliot, I have work to do." I give him an apologetic thump on the shoulder, though I really can't say I'm sorry at all to see the tail end of this.
He sighs heavily. "Fine, whatever. Don't be a stranger, though, please? Those fuckers will learn the lay of the land eventually, and we wouldn't mind seeing you around at more of these things. I feel like I barely get to talk to you unless it's pre-planned."
Yes, the days of Elliot waltzing into my apartment to be up my ass about something are over. He's a husband and a father now. Apparently, priorities change. "You're always welcome to come by," I remind him.
He shrugs, taking a sip of his drink and looking out into the crowd. "Things are just crazy, man. I wish I could make it over there more. There's a lot of things about this whole situation I wish were different," he says, the last bit more of a cryptic mutter.
"Well, you know the codes. Enjoy the party."
I keep to the outskirts of the room as I make for the exit, looking to avoid another ambush. No, I am not hiring, and even if I was, not you. I tune out the hum of the crowd until I duck into the waiting car just outside.
"Escala?" Taylor asks.
I shake my head. "Grey House." If the so-called new me is trying to move in on my turf, I have better things to do than sleep.
Just as we begin to pull out, I glance up and catch a very ostentatious car in the rearview mirror. "Wait."
Well, I'll be damned. Stepping out of his Aston Martin is my newest pain in the ass himself.
Cameron Westerley. Known to some as the new Christian Grey, arriving a bit more than fashionably late.
I stare a bit longer, watching him step out of the car. I've yet to see him in the flesh. I don't know much about the man himself, though I have been familiarizing myself with his company. He's got this boyish grin that I find myself wanting to punch. He turns around and smiles at the photographers outside like he's just arrived at the red carpet of his film premiere. Then, he turns back around and extends a hand, helping his companion out of the car.
My breath catches in my throat as a figure in a blue gown steps out. Her back is completely to me. She stays turned toward the photographers as she gives them a friendly wave and saunters in towards the doors. I can't see what she looks like, but her silhouette, the shine of her hair, the curve of her shoulders, it's the closest I've ever seen to…
"Go," I find myself choking out, and Taylor hits the gas once more. Get a fucking grip. Cinderella does not go to the ball. Especially not this one. Cinderella is long gone…
A/N: Hello! Please forgive me for starting a new story before I've finished Wherever You Stray. Or if you're new and don't know what I'm talking about, then welcome! This idea has just been rattling around in my head for so long, I just had to give it some attention. I've missed writing but I've been having trouble getting into it with WYS (partly because my outline keeps changing, so I think I'll benefit from more time to flesh that out too). I promise I will return to that storyline and WYS will NOT be unfinished forever, but I think for now, inspiration is leading me here.
I will also take this opportunity to thank the readers for giving my first story, Changing the Ending, now over 2000 reviews. That was so much fun to write and it humbles me that people are still reading it!
So, first impressions? Let me know if I can answer any questions. I'm hoping to be back in just a day or two with the next chapter. Thank you for reading!