Dear readers: Some of y'all might be mad about this. If you are, be mad at my daughter. She read what I was doing with the final chapter and didn't like it. I got her recommendation to cut the chapter again because she said reading it "made my eyes bleed." Meaning it was too long. I agreed with her, which means this isn't the last chapter.

Here's my little disclaimer about what I don't know: there are drugs in this chapter that I've never taken. That means I don't know what their high is like. Please leave all snarky guest reviews to my friend Google if high/signs are incorrect because that's where I found them. Again, the hotel in this chapter doesn't exist. I made it up.

Chapter Twenty-eight

~Anastasia~

I broke.

Due to my husband and my brother-in-law's refusal to conceal their identities, it nearly took our entourage half an hour to make our way from the hotel's foyer into the party. A steady stream of Seattle's costumed elite, were determined to stop the Grey brother's to shake their hands and exchange rather boring pleasantries. Christian kept a protective arm around me, and rested his hand on my pink clad waist during the whirlwind of introductions. I'm grateful that a firm handshake and direct eye contact is becoming natural to me. I'd reminded myself that I'm intelligent and quick witted. Our minds are powerful enough to make us believe whatever we want. I was tired of hiding and being meek whenever people would look at me with pity and then whisper about Leila Williams.

If they only knew the truth about me.

Tonight, though, it's hard to shake anyone's hand and take them seriously, at least I can't. The rich, and maybe famous, are outfitted in all manner of costumes. Some are funny, other's lovely, and many meant to be scary. As expected, there are many people wearing the same costume, and so far, I've seen four Sleeping Beauty's, and we all look alike.

Dinner has been cleared from the table, with its white linen table cloth and a centerpiece that's cleverly designed with fireworks sparklers made into the number 2013. The table is round, and I'm between Christian and Kate. Continuing clockwise is Elliot, Ethan, and Mia, who looks stunning as an angel. Her mask is small, though, and she isn't wearing a wig, so you can recognize her. Since she's an angel, she forced Ethan into being the devil. Although, he was like Christian and Elliot. He refused to wear a costume. He's sitting across from me with a red mask that sets on top of his blonde hair and has devil horns on it.

Our table is near a narrow window that is floor to ceiling, and the ceiling is so high that I wouldn't garner a guess as to how high it is. This room is cavernous. Glasses litter the table, alongside several empty, and half empty, bottles of wine and sparkling water. I paced myself, and Christian also paced me, so I'm sober and appreciating my surroundings. This place is not only enormous, it's gorgeous.

The party is on the hotel's second floor, or the "event floor" as Kate told me. There are three huge and gorgeous chandeliers hanging down over the middle of the room. Someone got the idea to change the bulbs to red, white, and blue, and the effect works. Those bulbs are tossing colored sparkles all over the room.

Behind us, on the left side of the vast room is the wrought-iron balustrade that wraps around the grand marble serpentine staircase. It's utterly stunning. I nearly grabbed my cell from my clutch to take a picture when we were walking up it.

To the right of us is a large wood bar with leather topped stools in front of it. It reminds me of one that you'd find in an old gentleman's bar. I can even smell the cigar smoke that would be in the air. They've placed red and blue lights along the base of the stools and it looks surprisingly classy.

At the room's far end is a sitting area that encircles a balcony that overlooks the first floor. There are several white octagon settees and many costumed people have already claimed them. I see one Sleeping Beauty holding court and sipping a glass of champagne.

Kate catches me staring that way. "Those are called Tete a Tete sofas." She describes them flippantly.

"Fancy name for a weird looking couch," I reply. Several well-dressed servers smoothly weave through guests by the sofas with trays of flutes of champagne or bottles to top off glasses that are halfway gone.

I don't know if this floor is always like this, or they put it together for this particular event, but the room is divided. One half is where dinner is; the other is a dance floor. There's a small band playing "It Had To Be You" and people are beginning to filter their way as they join the many that are already dancing. It looks funny to watch the likes of a vampire dancing with a ballerina.

They've somehow found a way to make that area darker, although I'd expect it to be. The one very stupid downside to this "event floor" is that there's no restroom. You have to go downstairs as the upper floors are the hotel suites.

"This is borrrrrring," Mia says. She grabs one of the devil horns on Ethan's mask and pulls it. I think she might be tipsy. Her red lips are pursed and her head is turning like it's on a swivel as she turns searching for people she knows.

He swats her hand away. "Don't even go there," he starts. "Oh, Ethan, it'll be like Halloween when we were kids!" "We'll have so much fun dressed up!" "I get to be an angel, Ethan!" he mimics her perfectly. His green eyes, the exact shade of Kate's, are gleaming.

Mia pouts and we're all howling with laughter.

"Don't pout, Mia. At least there aren't other women here who look just like you," I tell her. Irritation covers my every word. Now I'm pouting.

"Ana's right. I wouldn't know her if they put them all in a line up," Kate says, sitting up in her chair and looking around the room. She beams at me, her fake eyelashes fluttering like a butterfly's wings under her large mask.

"I would," Elliot jumps in. "Or at least I think I would. I bet she's the shortest."

I wad up my napkin and toss it at him. It only goes as far as Kate. He smirks at me.

"Jesus Christ," Christian grumbles. His brows knit together.

"What?" I ask.

A photographer is by the table before Christian can answer me. "Christian Grey? Elliot Grey? May I take a photo?"

"Sure," Elliot mutters.

All three of the men scowl, Mia strikes a pose like a runway model during fashion week in Paris. I stick with Kate and just sit straighter in my chair and fake a smile.

The photographer takes a few pictures, thanks us, and walks away. "The three of you are going to look like assholes in the Times tomorrow," Mia says to Ethan and her brothers.

"I don't care. That's why I prefer to donate money like this privately," Christian says, clenching his handsome jaw.

"You forfeited your right to complain about that when you refused to wear your costume. No one would have been sure who you were if you had," Kate tells him.

"Truth," Mia says, sipping on her white wine. "Changing the subject, are they ever going to play real music? I want to dance, but who can dance to their grandfather's music?"

"There's nothing wrong with that music. I'd much rather listen to it, and not the crap that's on the radio," Christian says.

No one says anything for a beat, then we all start laughing at him. He squints his eyes and he sets his mouth in a hard line. We've pissed him off. He hates being laughed at.

"That's because you have the personality of someone's grandfather, bro," Elliot tells him.

Christian's expression hasn't changed. I know that he'd be cursing his brother up and down if we weren't in a public place, and Elliot knows it as well. That's why he starts laughing harder.

"Zip it, El. People are staring, and if people are going to stare, I want them staring at the beauty of the three babes at this table," Kate tells him.

Mia begins to ask if we're going to have to go in search of champagne or if they'll bring a bottle to us, when Taylor, and Kate's CPO, Garrett, approach the table. I haven't noticed a member of security all evening.

Taylor says something into Christian's ear, and they discreetly walk to a corner in the room. Elliot gets up and follows them.

Taylor and Garrett are speaking so quietly that I don't see their mouths moving. Elliot and Chrisitan's backs are to the table and their heads are down. We can't see their expressions; Taylor and Garrett aren't giving anything away. As usual. Then I remember what happened when we first arrived and Parson and Ryan had to get rough with an over enthusiastic photographer. Taylor hadn't interrupted our dinner to tell Christian what that was about, so I assumed it meant nothing. Perhaps I was wrong and he was waiting until dinner was over.

The four separate and Christian and Elliot turn and make their way back to the table. They're trying to hide it, but they're pissed off. There's something else, though – they're confused. Both's brows are furrowed and the corners of their mouths are turned down.

"What's wrong?" Kate's the first to ask.

I can tell that Ethan wants in on the situation, but he knows he's not yet on the need to know Grey information list. Kate isn't married to Elliot yet, so technically, she shouldn't be on that list either. She only is for three reasons: Kate added herself, Elliot added her, but the real reason: I added her.

Christian and Elliot don't answer her.

I lean into Christian. "What's happened? Is it Teddy?"

He grabs my hands and shakes his head. "No, nothing like that. It's nothing for you to worry about," he whispers. He raises my hands and kisses them.

I pull them away. "Please don't pull this," I whisper back. "You promised no secrets."

He runs a hand through his hair and looks across the table at his brother, whose expression is parked in neutral. His arms are crossed. The entire table is looking between the brothers waiting for one of them to crack. Finally, the big brother takes control.

"Someone cut all the tires on both Audi's," Elliot finally says.

Ethan whistles between his teeth. I follow Kate and Mia in a gasp.

"You didn't have security on the vehicles?" Mia asks.

I almost roll my eyes. She's asking for a tongue lashing.

"Of course not, Mia. Why would I have security on the vehicles?" Christian snaps.

I can tell he's fuming. Can she not see that, too?

"Let's see, you practically have security on everything else in your world. Having it on your cars doesn't seem much of a stretch in my opinion. Don't get your boxers in a twist," she replies.

Ethan takes a sip of his wine. "The mayor's security?" he guesses correctly. There's a reason he's a psychologist.

Christian and Elliot both nod.

"Yep, then they ran the license plates, and found Taylor," Christian answers him.

"Does this place have cameras?" Ethan continues. He probably knows he's skating on thin ice, but is testing how thin the ice is.

Both brothers shake their heads and the rest of us groan.

"Taylor's guys are asking some other security details if they were outside and saw anything. So far, they've come up empty handed," Christian tells us.

"Were other vehicles vandalized?" Kate asks staring at him.

"That's another part the detail is checking out. There happen to be over a hundred cars here," Elliot replies. He's chewing on his bottom lip.

Again, we all groan.

"Have you pissed off anyone lately?" Kate presses Christian, and I'm afraid he's going to forget he's in public. "Do you think this has something to do with what happened when we first got here?"

He scowls at her. Kate rolls her eyes and drains her wine. "Whatever," she mutters.

"What happened when you first got here?" Mia asks, her eyes searching around the table.

"We got to the valets and before Parson could open the door, a photographer." Kate stops and gives Christian a pointed look that screams, "If it really was a photographer." "Got too close to the SUV and it took Parson and Ryan to get him out of the way. He also wouldn't tell Parson who he worked for," she finishes.

Mia hums. "Then this makes more sense. Has Taylor called the police?"

Jesus, Mia. Have you met your brother?

"No," he answers her blandly.

"I'm not a rocket scientist, but someone, possibly posing as a photographer, gets tossed in the air by your security. Later on, both of your vehicles are vandalized. That doesn't look random," she says, shrugging a shoulder.

"What do you mean?" Elliot asks her. His eyes quickly dart to, and land on his sister.

"Well, it's not like the license plates say "Christian Grey" and someone here doesn't like Christian. Maybe they did it because the vehicles were parked by each other, or because they don't like Audis, who knows? It makes more sense to me that they already knew they were your rides because of what occurred earlier, and right there, is what they call a motive," she continues, and pours herself a glass of the remaining white wine.

"She's right," Kate says, eyeballing the sitting area at the far end of the room. I know why; she's watching the champagne on the server's trays.

"So, if I were you, I'd call the police, and it doesn't make any sense why you haven't," Mia finishes. She drains her wine, and her angel wings quiver from the movement.

Her brothers don't acknowledge her, so Mia slams her glass on the table and stands up. "Ethan, do you want to go dance to the grandfather's music? I can't sit here another minute." Her cheeks are red. I don't know from anger or embarrassment. She's holding her hand out.

Ethan sighs, stands and takes it. He nods at Christian and Elliot, then pulls Mia close as they walk toward the soft voice of a woman singing "Come Fly With Me." I watch as her angel wings disappear.

"You could have at least addressed what she said. Silence is being dismissed," Kate says, looking between Christian and Elliot with an eyebrow raised.

"It's not dismissing her. It's not worrying her. This is nothing for her to worry about. End of story," Christian says harshly, glaring at her.

If Kate had fur, it would be standing up on her back. "Whoa, Grey. You don't get to talk to me that way. It's definitely a reason for Mia to worry about since it concerns her brother. It's a reason to worry me because it concerns Ana."

"Kate," I start, knowing that she's poking an already long since irritated bear, and now he's an angry bear. Now he might get to be a publicly angry bear. And there's a lurking photographer that could possibly snap a picture of said bear.

"No, Ana. He can't shut people down just because he thinks he has a right to. He's not omnipotent."

Christian pushes his chair away from the table. "He" is sitting right here, Katherine."

I'd pinch the bridge of my nose if a huge feather mask wasn't covering it. I can feel heat rising up my chest.

"Yeah, unfortunately, you are," Kate snaps as she scrutinizes him. "Stop treating people like glass or keeping them in the dark. Not telling someone about a threat doesn't make them safer. It does the exact opposite." She stands and looks at Elliot. "Do you want to go get a drink?" She nods towards the bar.

Elliot sighs. "We'll be at the bar if you two want to join us," he says, jaw set. He's angry, too. I'm not sure where his anger is directed at. He places a hand at the small of Kate's back. I watch them saunter away. The tassels hanging off of her dress swing as she walks.

I turn to look at my husband and a feather from my mask comes free and floats down to the table. "You certainly know how to clear a table," I tell him.

He looks annoyed. "I do it every day at work."

"You're not at work. These people are your family, and its past time that you know you can't treat us like we're your employees," I tell him, pouring some sparkling water into a glass. "If you're going to treat me like an employee, at least pay me as much as Ros and provide me with excellent health insurance." I try to inject some humor into the dark irritation that's swirling around him before it takes him down and the night is ruined. Or completely ruined, that is. Considering that all of the tires on both of his Audis have been slashed, the night has certainly taken a nose dive.

Christian takes his mask off and tosses it on the table. I sigh and look heavenward. I really don't want to deal with whatever he's about to say.

He narrows his eyes at me. The edges of his eyes crinkle, and begins to open his mouth. His expression is stubborn.

"I don't know what's going on. I don't like to speculate, and I don't feel like doing so if it will cause people to unnecessarily worry. Can't you understand that?"

I'm nibbling on my bottom lip. "I can understand that. I also think you have a blind spot when it comes to how you treat people in your life when it comes to things like this. The past year and a half is a glaring example, Christian."

He raises an eyebrow and both of his hands. "Guilty as charged, but not for the entire year and a half, Anastasia. I thought that you'd forgiven me for what I did," he softly says. His eyes wide.

I want to lean in and rub his face, but that doesn't seem appropriate in the setting we're currently in. "I have. I should have worded that differently. Let's just agree that you won't treat your family the way you treated Mia, and stop strong arming all of us to go along with your bidding. Okay?" I reach across the table and rub his hand.

Christian sighs deeply. He momentarily closes his eyes. They open, I can see understanding in them.

"I can do that, Mrs. Grey, rather, let's say, I'll do my best. You know how hard it is for me to concede control." He kisses my hand.

I nod, then scrunch up my face. "Good. Now, you need to apologize to your sister. I'd say that you need to apologize to Kate, but I know that you'd rather jump off the roof of this hotel."

"You know me well."

Before I can reply, Kate and Elliot return, with her father and mother in tow. Eamon Kavanagh is dressed up like Rhett Butler, and Kate's mother, Agnes, is Scarlett O'Hara. The Scarlett O'Hara that fashioned a dress with curtains.

Christian stands to shake Eamon's hand, and I jump up to hug Kate's mother. I haven't seen either in several months. I spot a man that's dressed similar to Taylor and his team out of the corner of my eye. He's moved along with Mr. and Mrs. Kavanagh, and I suppose he's their security. They require security since Eamon Kavanagh owns a nation-wide media conglomerate. I've often wondered why Mr. Kavanagh never had a security guy for Kate. This man isn't as tall as most of Taylor's guys, but is as muscular. He's bald and looks to be in his early thirties. Like Taylor and his teams, he doesn't seem to own a facial expression.

We all sit around the table sans Mia and Ethan, who I suppose are still dancing, or are on the other side of the room with the weird sofas and champagne. The men are discussing the stock market and the upcoming NFL playoffs. Kate's mother is filling us in about some upcoming news column that's going to be in one of the papers that Kavanagh Media owns. Then I listen as Kate talks about her job at the Seattle Times. She's passionate and in her element. Her mother shines from pride. It's obvious the apple did not fall far from the tree. I'm more than envious. I want the career that I worked so hard for in college. I'd work at the lowest position if I could just sit and read books. The longer that I listen to Kate I admit that I'm not envious; I'm jealous. I hide it, though. I shouldn't make Kate feel bad that she achieved what she dreamed of.

It's then that we hear the loud buzzing and tapping on a microphone coming from the part of the room where the costumed party goers are dancing. The enormous area goes silent as a man who introduces himself as the campaign manager for the mayor, James Cutler, or James Culter, I forget. Then the mayor steps up and thanks everyone for attending and reminds us that there's going to be a best costume contest an hour before the clock strikes midnight. I don't even know what time it is. Once he's done basically thanking this large crowd of overly heated, costumed, rich people, for giving him money, the "grandfather" music as Mia called it, changes into thumping EDM. I bet Mia's thrilled. I'm even sure that Kate will drag Elliot on the dance floor before the night is over. It would take Taylor holding his gun to Christian's head to get him out there.

I'm still in deep conversation with Kate and her mother, but I haven't changed seats. Christian's still sitting beside me, so I hear his cell phone begin to vibrate. I look down at it and see that it's Taylor calling. I quickly avert my eyes, but my ears are wide open. He might talk in riddles, but I'll do my best to figure it out. I peer at Elliot from underneath my feathers. He's looking at his brother. His expression went poker-faced.

"No one else is down here."

"No."

"Send someone else in here."

He sighs.

He looks at Mr. Kavanagh. Then Mr. Kavanagh's security.

"Give me a minute."

Christian ends the call and I act as though I didn't know he even had one. Elliot is still staring at him.

"Eamon, may I have a word privately?" he asks Kate's dad.

The table falls silent.

"Of course."

Elliot stands when Kate's father and my husband do. He's not letting Christian shut him out of this.

I watch my husband. His back is to the table. He's standing to his full height and his shoulders are tense. A hand has passed through his hair so many times that I'm surprised he's not as bald as Mr. Kavanagh's security man, who's watching his boss interact with Christian and Elliot.

Kate's father looks at ease and is patting Christian, then Elliot on the shoulder. Then he tilts his head towards his security guy. Both Elliot and Christian look at the man and have wary expressions. I'm not an expert at reading lips, and this mask is definitely an impediment, but I think Kate's dad just told Christian and Elliot that "Everything will be fine."

All three men return to the table and sit down. Christian leans in and talks quietly. "Anastasia, Katherine, please listen. Don't get alarmed. Due to what happened with the Audis, Taylor pulled the full detail from up here, so you don't have your close body. There are only two guys in here. Parson and Garrett." His tone is authoritative and I want to ask him what the fuck so bad that I can feel it in my bones. "Mr. Kavanagh also has security that's going to be on you," he continues, subtly nodding his head to the bald man not far from us.

"We will also be with you, but if something happens, Parson and Garrett will be with you. They've got eyes on you. There's no need to be worried. I just wanted you to know before you needed the powder room and wondered what was going on. Okay?"

I nod.

Kate nods.

Eamon clears his throat and changes the serious subject, and begins to ask us about Teddy. I pull out my phone and scroll through every picture I have of my perfect son, who is a carbon copy of my husband.

I can feel Kate's leg bouncing under the table. She's bored and I've learned from experience that's dangerous. "Why don't we take this party down there? I'd love some champagne?" she says, gesturing to the far end of the room with her chin. Her sweetest grin directed at her father.

"How many drinks did you have at the bar, young lady?" he asks her sternly. He gives her the once over.

"I had a gin and tonic." Kate sighs. "I don't aim to get drunk. I'm just tired of sitting at this table."

Mr. Kavanagh stands and pulls at the bottom of his jacket. "Let's go then, ladies." He puts out his arm for his wife.

Christian sighs, but stands up and holds out his hand. I take it and offer him a small smile.

I roll my eyes at Kate's beaming grin and search out Parson. I find him in the corner across from the bar. His arms are behind his back. Eyes locked on me. With the slightest jerks of my head, I indicate where we're going, even though my husband is right beside me. He doesn't acknowledge me, although I feel his presence as we walk across the large room.

This area, closer to dance floor, is loud. It's very loud. And Christian isn't a happy camper. The chandelier with the blue bulbs hangs overhead and are shooting the color all over the white octagon sofas. There are more than I originally thought and we're lucky enough to find one that's empty and has enough room for all of us to sit on. We're immediately served a glass of champagne. I look for Mia and Ethan and don't spot them, however, much to my juvenile annoyance, there are two Sleeping Beauty's sitting nearby. Only one has a feathered Venetian mask, though. It's not as large as mine. The woman points at me and we smile.

"Darling, have you seen your brother?" Agnes asks Kate. She's sipping her drink and looking around the crowd we're surrounded by. I can barely hear her.

"No. Mia took him off to dance earlier. I'm beginning to think that they left. Perhaps they got a hotel suite upstairs," Kate replies.

"True," her mother says in a distracted tone.

Christian and Elliot flinch when they hear the words that Mia might be upstairs in a hotel suite and I laugh.

By now, Elliot's mask has been discarded, along the way with Eamon's. I want to rip mine off, but there's no telling how messed up my make-up is underneath it. All I've done is sweat and it's been pressed up to my face for so long that I'm sure it's left behind an indention that will last a week.

I quickly learn that even though there are sofas to sit on, you don't converse with the elite and politically motivated, flat on your ass. I'm not sure how long we've all been on our feet, or how many times that I've been introduced to someone as "Mrs. Christian Grey." I realize, and love, that I'm Mrs. Christian Grey. However, I also have a first name and I'd love to use it. Agnes Kavanagh has introduced me to several socialites that head charitable committees for one thing or the other, and each seem eager to have "Mrs. Christian Grey" on their committee. When they asked for my contact information, I panicked and told them to contact Andrea, Christian's PA. Oh, my God. I'll have to warn her before they start calling and she kills me. At least Christian didn't seem bothered by it. Instead, he took me by the elbow and led me to meet the mayor. He looks much younger in person. It's during that exchange that a photographer makes his way in and snaps several shots. Pleasing the mayor, and causing Christian to nearly growl.

Kate's several feet away from me. In one hand is an empty glass of champagne, the other is gesturing in the air as she stands talking to Amelia Kennedy, the wedding planner who's running Kate and Elliot's wedding like a drill sergeant. Kate's mother, Agnes, is standing with them, and seems to be doing most of the talking. Kate said she was thinking of relinquishing control of her wedding to her mother because she couldn't stand another six months of fighting with her. If Christian thinks Kate's pushy, he should spend a day with her mother.

After we break free of Seattle's political machinery, we meet Kate, who has broken free of her mother and wedding planner. Her cheeks are red and I know it's from anger. I don't see Elliot, but it's hard to see anyone when Simba and Nala are walking in front of you, and you're swiftly dodging a man in a huge banana costume.

"Where's Elliot?" Christian asks Kate. His brow is furrowed as he scans the area we're standing in.

Kate uses her thumb and points behind her. "He was somewhere back there talking to Paul Allen."

Christian's entire face practically lights up as he looks for his brother. Yeah, I'd rather talk Seahawks than politics, too, Christian.

He looks at me. "Go ahead. We'll stay right here." I glance around. Now there are three Sleeping Beauty's. I'm going to have nightmares about this night, I just know it.

"Go on, mogul." Kate uses her empty champagne flute to gesture. "Parents, three security guys. We're not going anywhere. We'll be fine."

Christian looks at me again. I guess he's looking for final approval.

"Go, but if their rookie quarterback, Wilson, is over there, I want an autograph," I tease him.

He kisses me on the cheek and disappears.

"It didn't look like you were enjoying your conversation with your mother and wedding planner," I say. My champagne flute also empty.

"I've told you how it is. At this point, I'm all for going to the courthouse and bringing you and Christian along to be witnesses. Grace is the only reason I don't. She's got her heart set on a wedding since you and Christian robbed her of one," Kate jokes. Her twelve-hour lipstick is still on and she's pursing her lips together as she searches a tray of fresh champagne flutes.

"I was at the disadvantage in that situation. You would have been, too. It oozed romance. No one could have turned that down. You're lucky there are pictures."

Right then, a male server with an open bottle of Dom Perignon, and a few full flutes of champagne on a tray stops in front of us. He's a blonde with hair long enough to be in a pony tail, and has a thick beard. Both have obviously been bleached. He's smiling at us.

I don't think Kate ever heard my response about my wedding, and doesn't notice the server, because she's faced away and is in a polite conversation with an older woman who used to work for her father. Her empty champagne flute is on the sofa between us, so I grab it and hold hers, along with mine up to the server so he can refill them.

He doesn't.

Instead, he takes the empty flutes and hands me a full one. I stare at the glass, and then at the server, who's still smiling politely down at me. I know that I'm holding him up, but there's an unease trickling down my back and up my arms like a leaky faucet. If Kate were to turn around and find me holding up her next glass of bubbly I'd probably have to start running.

The server looks confused. "Ma'am?" he asks me.

I shake my head and smile at him. "I'm sorry," I reply, taking the offered glass, then taking the second he hands me.

I give him another smile. "Thank you."

The man nods and goes on to passing out drinks. I gently poke Kate and hold out her drink. She entangles herself from the conversation she was in, turns, and grabs the proffered glass. She scoots closer to me.

"Is it any where near midnight?" I whisper in her ear.

Kate jerks back. "Stop it. You're Sleeping Beauty, not Cinderella. You won't turn into a pumpkin if you aren't at home by midnight," she replies.

I furrow my brow at her. "That's not what happens in Cinderella," I tell her.

Kate shrugs her, "I couldn't care at all" shrug, and we both drain half of our drinks at once.

I pull the flute away from my mouth and stare at it. Running my tongue over my lips, I stare at Kate, who has an equally strange look on her face. She's also looking at her champagne flute in disgust.

"What the fuck kind of champagne are they serving?" she says in between smacking her lips. Her forehead is wrinkled and she's wincing.

I'm doing the same thing. The salty aftertaste is nothing I've ever tasted in champagne, and God knows that Christian's shoved enough of it down my throat since I was finally given a bill of clean health.

"The bottle was Dom. Do you taste salt?" I ask her. Kate stops me from raising my glass to look at it.

"What the fuck?" I ask her, cocking my head.

"If you do that, you'll have both Greys, my dad, my CPO, your CPO, and Andrews over here playing the "Why does the champagne taste salty" game." Neither of us want to go there. I just want to have fun."

I frown, because she's right. "Wait. Who's Andrews?"

"Dad's security guy. He puts Taylor's uptight ass to shame," she tells me. Kate sounds annoyed discussing him.

I scoff at the thought of anyone being more uptight than Taylor, but her mention of security has me searching ours out. I can't find them. Christian is easily spotted due to his unruly copper hair. He's standing next to his brother, both look relaxed while talking to a few men that I suppose have something to do with the Seahawks.

I gnaw at my bottom lip. "So, are we discreetly finding somewhere to dispose of what's left of this champagne and getting another glass, or what? Maybe these have been left out too long or some shit. I just know that I need to wash the taste out of my mouth," I say. "I'll hunt down a fake plant and use this to water it with if you want," I mutter.

Kate doesn't say anything. She waits for a server, this time it's a woman, and stops her. Kate nods at me, and we both down the rest of the salty ass champagne. We both shudder as it goes down our throats. The server quickly hands us new flutes and we take large gulps of what champagne should taste like. She stares at us like we're unhinged.

Kate smiles at me. "Well, that was odd," I say. I'm still perplexed. Another large sip of champagne is required to get that nasty taste out of my mouth. I'm not so sure that was a good idea.

"Odd is the theme of this entire night. By the way, Ethan sent me a text a few minutes ago. They left; Mia wanted to watch the fireworks show over Lake Washington." Kate has a sly grin on her face. "Don't tell Christian or Elliot, though."

"I'm sure her security has already told Taylor. I won't have to open my mouth."

I lick under my upper lip. It's still salty. And numb. I take another long sip of champagne in the hopes it will wash the salty aftertaste away. It doesn't, so I finish what's left. My head is spinning and I still taste the salt in my mouth Eh, no. I can taste oysters. Fucking hell, where's some more champagne? I finish off the glass and stand. My intention is to find the nearest server, not sway so much that Kate gets to her feet and grabs me.

"Jesus, Ana. Are you already drunk? Sit down before the mogul cuts you off. Where were you going?"

Is something wrong with my hearing or is Kate slurring?

"I wasn't going anywhere. Wanted more champagne," I tell her, then wave my empty flute around.

She shows me her empty glass and winks at me. She slightly raises the empty glass and a server is in front of us in record time. We're on our fourth glass within a few heartbeats. I think back on how much alcohol I've consumed this evening and measure that against how I feel right now. The answer makes me uneasy.

I should be able to feel my face.

I can't.

Still, I finish the fourth drink. I'm not having another, though, even if I wanted to. Christian's headed this way with an expression of thunder directed at me. I also couldn't have another because I feel like I'm about to puke all over my pink gown.

He pushes his way between me and Kate, who is unnaturally quiet.

"Are you fucking drunk?" he whispers in my ear. His glare is icy.

I shake my head vehemently and I feel my tiara move on top of my head.

Whoa. Head spin.

"Jush wanted the salt out my mouth," I slur at him.

Christian looks outraged. "Salt? What the hell is wrong with you?" he asks so quietly I barely hear him. "What are you talking about?"

I haphazardly point in Kate's direction. "Ask Kate. Yy…sters in champagne. Yush."

Christian narrows his eyes at me, but he looks concerned. Then I watch him turn to Kate. Elliot's leaning down over her protectively, and if I close one eye, I can see that Elliot's angry at Kate. Eamon, Kate's father, looks angry, too.

I lean back and watch all of them. Then the world tilts and they all morph, and they've become one large, gray light that's behind an impenetrable wavy wall. No one exists. There's no time behind it. It's beautiful, and bright, and loud, so, so, very loud. I don't like the loud, gray light. It's begun to smell, and it's an abysmal odor. Hot and metallic like blood. How can something so beautiful smell like blood? My, God. It's as though lambs have just been slaughtered. I reach out to touch the gray wall – there's a railing. My hand slides. My hand is smeared with the blood.

My heart throws itself into my throat. I can't breathe, can't move, can't speak. Something isn't right. Discomfort wages war on my nervous system.

I would scream if my tongue wasn't so numb and tired. If I screamed, I wouldn't be able to hear the whispers around us. I wonder if Kate and all of the white shiny fish on her dress are beginning to panic like I am. I think this is more than being drunk. I just can't form the words, and every one dressed in black won't let me talk.

Parson has one arm and Christian has the other. They are so strong and there's no way I can move. Yet, I sway as the boat of marble stairs tumbles to and fro. I stumble, and my husband swears. I can't apologize. I'm so dizzy that my legs are spinning under my gown. My hair is spinning under my wig. My tiara is spinning. I'm spinning. On the marble - everywhere.

The marble twists, and twists, and my stomach lurches. The bile rises into my throat and I gag. My guts plummet, hard waves of nausea nearly bend me over. I think I grit my numb teeth, steeling myself against the familiar urge that I know too well.

"Throw up," I hear myself slur.

"Sir, the bathroom's just here. Hurry." I inhale and smell Parson. Oh, yes. I knew he was beside me.

"Puke." I sound pathetic to my own ears.

"Hold on, Ana. Parson's got to clear the fucking place." Christian's so angry.

"It's clear, sir.

I'm up, up, up, in Christian's arms.

Then I'm so sick for so long, and while I am, I see all of the masks from the party. A Gatto, a Pulcinella, a Harlequin, a Volto Full Face, and a Columbina. I see them in the flashing red, white, and blue lights and they frighten me. I call out, but nothing comes out of my mouth. Why is my mouth so numb?

"I don't give a shit if we're men in the ladies room. Open the door and tell them your wife is sick. I don't care what you tell them." Angry, angry Christian.

"Hey, man, I appreciate it, but we've got it handled…I said we've got it handled. What? Fuck!" Parson?

I hear a popping sound, a loud cracking noise and Parson cries out.

"Parson!" Christian calls for him. Why can't I?

My body is floating on something cool as I listen to another cracking noise and Parson once more crying out. He's being hurt.

"Son of a bitch! What in the fuck-" Christian, don't be so mad. Help Tyler.

There's another pop. Another crack. Then I hear Christian cry out. I hear it again. Christian cries out. I hear it again. And again. Christian cries out. Tyler cries out. Again and again. What are they doing? Why can't I move?

There's nothing that I can do to help. I can only float on the cool, cool boat I'm on. It's wavy, and I tumble. It's white and smooth like the marble stairs. So smooth and pretty. It's nothing like these loud noises and cries from pain that are swirling around me. The are raining down on me.

Then the dark voices enter my head. I don't know who they are or where they came from. Did they hurt Christian and Tyler? Did they take them away?

"Hurry the fuck up."

"I am. Make sure Grey's are tight enough that they draw blood. Fuck you, you piece of shit. Yeah, mumble from behind that duct tape. You'll get her back when we get our money."

"Quit fuckin' around. Big boy, I'm putting your piece just out of reach. That oughta fucking piss you off. Tape the note to that asshole's chest."

"Yeah. You missed me again. I've got her now. Come get her if you can."

I'm up, up, up. I'm pretty sure the masks are Dottore Peste. I've never liked that mask. And there are two. One of the masks steadies me, while the other straightens out my costume. I can't feel them touch me. I'm numb. I hear garbled noises echo around my ears. They are so sensitive, and I can't keep my eyes open any longer. I'm shaken, hard, and my eyes fly open. I'm shaken so hard my heart rattles.

A mask is close to mine. Fingers squeeze my cheeks. The garbled voices coming from the floor are far away now. Hi, Ana. Long time no see. You look like shit."

Who hasn't seen me? Or does he mean I haven't seen him? It is a man, isn't it?

"This is what's going to happen, Mrs. Grey. We're going to walk out of this bathroom and you're not going to open up your god damn mouth, understand?"

Where's Christian and Parson? Tyler? Christian?

"You think she can talk? I gave her and Kavanagh enough for them to OD. Let's hope they don't."

No, Kate? Open your mouth and scream Ana. Get off the rocking boat. Jump on that rock over there. Do it. Do it. You have to save Kate. And Christian. Where's Tyler?

"What? Why the hell would you do that?"

"Call me impulsive."

"Call you stupid. Can't expect money for a dead chick, and I only got involved with this for money."

"Fuck off. Let's go."

"Remember what I said, bitch. Don't make a fucking noise."

Noise.

If I make noise then I can find someone to help us. I have to make some noise.

I know where the noise is. It's with everyone in that gray light. It's water, and I can see over the surface and watch the gray light distort each tiny wave…I want to reach out and touch the noise…I want to…and before I know what I'm doing…I'm clawing at one of the arms that's gripping mine.

One of the masks violently grabs me by the back of my neck. "Don't make me hurt you again, Ana." The mask says the hate filled words.

I'm sorry Christian.

I'm sorry Kate.

I'm sorry Tyler.

I tried to make noise.

I just couldn't.