A/N:

I forgot to mention when this story was first posted in 2018, passages with direct quotes from Darker/Freed were marked in bold. It reads better without it, I think.

ALL mistakes are mine.

Chapter Five: The Big Surprise

ANA POV

A pressing need from my bladder wakes me. I open my eyes and notice the curtains drawn. It must be dark outside. I'm guessing it's early evening.

The light from the bedside lamp illuminates Christian's face. He's looking at his laptop screen, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He's wearing his favorite string pants and a white T-shirt. His hair is still wet from the shower, and his body wash hits my nostrils. Hmm. I lean in, close my eyes, and breathe him in.

"Hi," he murmurs, gazing down at me.

"Hi," I smile, feeling suddenly shy. I must have fallen asleep while he was in the shower. "You wanna watch a movie or something?"

"Hmm.." He closes his laptop and says, " That's not exactly what I had in mind," he grins suggestively. Holy cow, this man is truly insatiable.

"What's with the no-going-to-the-bathroom thing?" I ask after relieving my bladder.

"The fuller the bladder the more intense your orgasm, Ana."

...

When I open my eyes again, it's shortly after 7 am. The sun's brightness squeezes through the curtains. I stretch, feeling stiff.

I think about the events of the past three days.

It's been three days since Christian's birthday party. It seems a lot longer than that.

Christian opens his eyes, and I peck his lips.

I head for the bathroom in my birthday suit and catch a glimpse of Christian smirking at me. Feeling shy, I hastily grab my robe. I absentmindedly wash my hands, and my robe falls open.

Holy fuck!

I gaze in horror at the red marks all over my breasts. Hickeys! I have hickeys! How did I not feel him doing this to me? I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My wrists have red welts around them from the handcuffs. I'm afraid they'll bruise. I examine my ankles—more welts. Holy hell, I look like I've been in an accident!

How dare he mark me like this? In the time we've been together, he's never given me hickeys. I look like hell! I know why he's done this. DAMN CONTROL FREAK!

Did he do this because I called off our engagement? He's gone too far this time. I stalk out of the en suite bathroom and into the walk-in closet, carefully avoiding even a glance in his direction. Slipping out of my robe, I slide on a T-shirt and yoga pants. I pick up my favorite brush and start brushing my hair.

I think about all the way my body has changed since Christian. I've become leaner and fitter. My hair is glossy and well-cut. My nails are neatly manicured and pedicured. My eyebrows are beautifully shaped. For the first time in my life, I'm well-groomed-except for these hideous love bites.

"Anastasia! "Are you okay?"

How dare he? I seethe as fury spikes through me. Stepping back into the bathroom, I hurl the brush at him and turn. Before I leave, I catch his shocked expression and lightning reaction as he raises his arms to protect his head so that the brush bounces ineffectively off his forearm onto the bed.

Afterward, I head for the terrace upstairs. I take a deep breath as I gaze into the clear blue sky. The healing breath begins to calm me. I'm aware of him stepping behind me before he speaks.

"You're mad at me," he whispers.

"No shit, Sherlock!"

"How mad?"

"Scale one to ten, I think I'm a fifty."

"That mad?!" He sounds surprised and impressed at once.

"Yes, pushed to violence mad," I say through gritted teeth.

He stays silent as I turn and scowl at him, watching me with wide, questioning eyes.

"Christian, you need to stop bringing me to heel."

He shrugs as if I'm a puzzle with missing pieces.

"I don't like you leaving marks on me. It's MY hard limit!" I hiss at him, glaring. Nothing justifies what he's done to me.

"Did you have fun when we were having breakfast with my family? It looked as though you were having a ball."

"What? Please don't change the subject!"

"Calling off our engagement...and tossing the word 'dominant' around like a frisbee. It was all a big joke to you. I got some news for you, Anastasia... I hated every minute of your cutesy play on words," he growls.

I lower my eyes and bite my lip, feeling guilty. "I'm sorry."

His gaze softened a little. "Can I see?"

I pull down my camisole to reveal the top of my breasts. Christian gazes at me, his expression wary and uncertain. He's not used to seeing me this mad. I want to shout at him, but I refrain. Eventually, he sighs and holds his palms up as if in a conciliatory gesture.

"Okay, I get it."

Hallelujah!

He runs his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. Don't be mad at me." He looks contrite. His apologizing like this is a biggie for me. I recall Dr. Flynn saying that emotionally Christian is like an adolescent, and his emotional world is playing catch-up.

My anger dissipates when Christian jokes about me having a good arm and an even greater aim and how I always surprise him. I tell him I've had plenty of target practice with Ray.

"I can shoot straight... and you'll do well to remember that."

He smirks at me and tells me that he'll make sure to nail down all potential projectile objects and that I won't have access to a gun. I smirk back.

He pulls me into an embrace and nuzzles me. "Am I forgiven?"

"Am I?"

I feel his smile. "Yes," he answers.

"Ditto."

We stand holding each other, my resentment forgotten.

"Hungry?" He says after a while.

The question reminds me of him snooping into my medical history and my iron deficiency. I have my eyes closed and my head against his chest. I feel less angry now, that's for sure.

All this activity has given me quite an appetite.

"Yes, I'm famished."

…...

"Why do you braid my hair?" I ask while we're having breakfast. We're sitting adjacent to each other at the table, my lower leg curled around his. He pauses as he's about to pick up his fork and frowns.

"I don't want your hair catching on anything." He pauses. "Habit, I think."

I'm guessing it's a painful childhood memory we better not revisit.

"It doesn't matter. I don't need to know." I give him a warm, reassuring smile. Initially, he looks wary but then he relaxes. "I love you," I murmur and he smiles his heart-achingly shy smile, and I melt. "I will always love you, Christian."

"And I, you," he says softly.

"Despite my disobedience?"

"Because of your disobedience, Anastasia." He grins.

I take a bite of my eggs and shake my head. Will I ever understand this man?

After breakfast, he leads me to the entertainment room and turns on his iPod speaker on the dresser. He switches it on and selects a song. It's called Perfect. A man with a voice like warm melted caramel croons. Yes. His name is at the tip of my tongue.

Well, I found a woman stronger than anyone I know

She shares my dream. I hope someday I'll share her home

I found a love to carry more than just my secrets

To carry love, to carry children of our own.

We dance. Christian dips me low, and I yelp in a surprise giggle. He smiles, scoops me up, and spins me around.

"You dance so well," I say.

He gives me a sphinxlike smile. I wonder if he's thinking of her, Mrs. Robinson, the woman who taught him how to dance and how to fuck. I had not thought of her in a while; Christian had not mentioned her since his birthday. As far as I know, their business relationship is over.

He dips me low again and plants a swift kiss on my lips.

"Did she teach you to dance too?" I ask. I cannot believe I've spoken the thoughts in my head.

"Elena?" He says casually. He clears his throat. "Been meaning to mention, Taylor texted me to say they'd identified the intruder."

"Oh?"

"It's Elena.

Elena! The bitch troll!

"Wh-what? Why? How did she get in?"

"We're still trying to figure out the details."

…...

The next day

Christian and I are having dinner. We still have no word on Elena's whereabouts.

"You asked me why I braid your hair," he murmurs. His tone alarms me.

"Yes."

"The crack whore used to let me play with her hair, I think." I don't know if it's a memory or a dream."

He gazes at me, and my heart leaps into my mouth. I don't know what to say when he says things like this.

"I like it when you play with my hair," I say, hesitating.

"I don't like talking about all that shit. I'm done," Christian murmurs.

I don't believe him. I think he'll carry the burden of his past with him for the rest of his life. But, I love him no matter what. He'll always be my fifty shades, my fifty shades. I don't want him to change, but I do want him to feel loved. Peeking up at him, I take a moment to admire his captivating beauty...and relish in the knowledge that he's mine. It's not just the allure of his face and body that has me spellbound. It's what's behind the perfection that draws me to his fragile, damaged soul.

…...

Narrator

"If only I had paid more attention, I should have recognized the signs," Grace said, her voice laced with regret.

"I think you're being too hard on yourself," Carrick said warily.

"No. I should have known!" Grace spat angrily. "I just want to put my arms around her neck and squeeze the life out of her."

Carrick is shocked to hear her say that. Deep down, he's not alarmed about Elena and Christian's relationship. He secretly believes that boys will be boys and that perhaps getting to experiment at such an early age serves a purpose. Possibly, being with an older woman helped their son gain experience and become a man.

As if on cue, her phone rang. She picked up the call, irritation in her voice.

"No, Raphael. For the last time, I have not heard from her."

"I thought you would like to know I went and filed a missing person's report. I know you said there's some bad blood between you, but I still think you're at the top of her list of contacts. Let me know if you hear anything, please!"

"Raphael?"

"Yes?"

"When you find her or she returns from wherever she's at, tell her I hope she rots in hell!"

…...

ANA POV

Two days later.

My fifty is full of surprises. That's part of his charm.

"I got two gifts for you." He tells me with a boyish gleam in his eyes. "Which one do you want first?"

"Oh, Christian," I say, overcome with emotions.

He exits the room and returns with a gift-wrapped, tall box. He sets it down in the middle of the room with great fanfare. The box is so tall it nearly reaches his shoulder. He leans his elbow comfortably onto the lid.

"Are you ready for your next gift?"

He then pulls a small velvety box from his pocket and sets it on the coffee table. I stare at it, mortified, thinking it's another engagement ring.

"Which one will you open first?" He reiterates.

I hesitate. Wow. "It's not my birthday," I smirk.

"True," he concedes. "But according to the calendar, it's Mad Hatter Day. So, we're celebrating your unbirthday," he jokes, "and there's no time like the present moment to show the woman I love how much I love her.

At last, I open the small velvety box first. "Oh, my, it's gorgeous," I say. It's a platinum bracelet. It's exquisite, so delicately crafted filigree style in the shape of small abstract flowers with small diamonds at their heart. I'm thrilled it's wide and cufflike and hides the red marks.

"There. That's better. Only the best for you, my sweetheart."

"Thank you." I smile. I've never worn anything so expensive. I wonder why. I'm guessing he's feeling guilty about the marks. "Oh, Christian...you have given me so much already. I'm the luckiest woman," I whisper.

His eyes are bright, and he's sporting a boyish grin.

I admire the bracelet and smile.

"So, what's in the big box?"

"I guess you need to come here to find out," he grins, rocking back and forth on his heels.

I bite my lip, and he frowns, so I stop.

I'm excited trying to imagine the possibilities.

The second I hear a bark, my hands fly to my mouth.

"Oh, Christian!" I squeal, throwing my arms around his neck. "I can't believe it! You got me a dog?!"

Christian beamed. "Does this mean you like your surprise?"

I reward him with a kiss. "I've always wanted a dog."

"I know."

"What? I don't think I've ever told you that."

"Oh," Christian raised his brow meaningfully, "yes, you have."

"When?"

"Sorry I didn't mention this sooner...but you talk in your sleep...and when I say talk, I mean entire five-minute monologues."

I don't have a mirror handy, yet I know, all color has drained from my face thinking about the possibilities. Oh, My!

Christian cocks his head. "Worried about something, my dear? A skeleton or two hiding in your closet?"

I throw my head back and laugh.

By now, the dog in the box is barking furiously.

"I think she wants out!"

"How do you know it's a she?"

"Woman's intuition?" I squeal as I open the lid, and a giant Poodle leaps out.

Christian tells me that the idea of getting this particular breed had been Richard's (his shopping assistant/personal shopper) recommendation. Giant Poodles are clever creatures, clean, protective, and calm in nature. They're the size of a medium-breed dog. Fi-fi is six months old, trained, and practically full-grown.

"And you're intuition is right on," he concludes, "just like everything else about you."

"She's as white as snow," I murmur as I pet her silky fur. What shall I name her?"

Christian suggests we name her Snow, Lamb, or Galaxy.

"Galaxy?" I chuckle. "I think we should go with a more traditional-sounding name."

And then the perfect name comes to mind.

Christian is outraged when he hears the name, but I've made up my mind. I think the name I've chosen is guaranteed always to bring a smile to people's faces.

…...

Narrator POV

"Have you seen Fi-fi?" Ana asks Gail.

They're standing in the hallway. Gail shakes her head.

Right then, they hear a loud bark.

"Did you hear that?"

They spot the Poodle rolling a corner, and they follow her. Fi-fi runs into Christian's study and sniffs the air. She barks viciously at seemingly nothing.

As soon as she saw them poke their head through the door, the dog ran to greet them, only to resume her barking with renewed energy at the same spot.

Ana and Gail examine the floor behind the couch and scratch their heads.

"Hey, what's wrong, Sweetie?" Ana croons as if talking to a baby. She tried distracting her with a toy, but the dog was adamant. She wails, whimpers, and cries as though in the presence of another dog. Ana crouches down to rub Fi-fi's ears.

Two hours later, Fi-fi was still standing guard. Ana began to worry. No matter what she tried, the dog refused to budge and move away from the area.

At last, Christian gets home. "What's wrong with this damn dog?!"

"We can't get her to stop... sniffing and barking. There's nothing behind that couch but the wall."

"There must be something wrong," Gail says. Her tone suggests housekeepers know best; they have a well-developed sixth sense.

"Maybe it was a mistake to get a giant poodle," Christian Fumes. Damn Richard!

Shortly after consulting him about getting a dog for Ana, Richard returned from the pet store with three choices: 1) A bulldog (too ugly), a Pekinese (too loud AND tiny), and the giant Poodle. Christian shrugged. He really didn't have the time to consider other choices. He settled for the Poodle and hoped for the best. He wasn't much of a dog person, so he trusted Richard had done his homework.

At the time he made the decision, he'd been looking forward to seeing the look of surprise on Ana's face. But now, considering the dog's behavior in the last couple of hours, he questions his choice. Who would have guessed Poddles could be this loud and obstinate?

"Oh, come on, Fifi," Ana reprimands the dog. "Quit acting like you're sniffing a crime scene or something."

Christian immediately thinks about the intruder. Maybe Fi-fi was onto something here. Could there be something underneath the floor?

Perhaps a leaky pipe or some mold?

Ana hands Christian a knife, and immediately starts pulling the carpet off the floor.

"Maybe there's a dead animal," Gail suggests.

Ana's gasps. Her hands fly to her mouth.

"Wh-what kind of animal?"

"Not under the carpet, it's gotta be behind the wall!" Christian says.

Fi-fi sticks her nose between the wall and the baseboard, barking more furiously than ever in case anyone doubted she was the one who figured it all out.

"I'm bringing masks and disinfectant!" Gail announces halfway out the door.

"Also, get Sawyer and Taylor," Christian replies. This is more work than he thought. Hmm? As he leans closer, he realizes there is something funny about the wall directly behind the couch.

Is that a swivel door?

What-the?

"Christian!" Ana screams just as Christian stumbles inside a hole in the wall, and the dog goes batshit crazy!

A/N:

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I enjoyed writing Fi-fi :)

This is the last chapter with yours truly flying solo. The upcoming chapters were written in collaboration with Calicutie77.

Ps. Just posted For The Love of Bella, CH 22, Archive of Our Own. The direct link's available on my profile page.

Happy Thanksgiving :)