Book III - Chapter V-Christian and Anastasia Fanfiction

UNEXPECTED PARTIES

CHAPTER V

“What would you like your inscription to read?”

“Inscription inside the ring?”

“Yes, sir. I shall not part with this diamond, but for great love. Great loves are the enduring kind. Endurance is written in stone; in your case, in platinum.”

“Yes. It should read, ‘My first, last, more and forever’,” I state.

“And what’s your symbol, sir?”

“My symbol? What symbol?”

“What represents you, and your love to your woman, sir?” he asks, and I feel like a student who is taking a quiz on a lesson he hasn’t studied yet.

“I don’t have a symbol,” I say. His face falls.

“You must have one. Or rather you do, and you just don’t know what it is yet. There are ancient symbols that represents love,” he says and assesses me silently. He looks at my demeanor, my gaze, and look at me in such a way that if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was weighing my soul.

“No...” he says shaking his head. “A love symbol won’t do for you,” he says to a question I haven’t heard asked.

“Why not?” I ask like an insolent child.

“It’s too light for you. You need something more...” he says.  “You exude power sir. You love her, but ‘love’ is not the correct word for what you feel.”

“What? How is it that it’s not love I feel for her?” I ask angrily.

“Because sir, like the rings, you’re twin souls. Love would be too simple: representing one lifetime. What you need...” he says pausing, and he appears to be solving a difficult equation in his head, and he needs to use all his faculties to complete the task, and his face creases looking at me, looking through me, then lowers his head and looks into his hand holding the diamond, finally nodding his head as if he conferred with the ring, and looks back up at me having solved his problem. He smiles.

“...yes, what you need is beyond. Beyond love, and beyond life... I think an apple simply will do,” he says resolutely.

“What?” I ask shocked. I want to laugh, I want yell at him, but he looks so serious about this conclusion he reached. I have to ask.

“An apple? Why an apple? I'm not buying a laptop. My love for my wife to be is represented by an apple?”

“Sir, don’t you know anything about Venus, Cupid and the Golden Apple?” he asks shocked.

“No. I mean I know Venus, and Cupid, but I don’t see the connection,” I reply.

He sighs.

“I’d be happy to educate you on the subject sir,” he says like he’s the reincarnation of Socrates. I see Taylor listening attentively from my peripheral vision, and even he’s interested.

“Alright. I’m listening,” I say. This should be...interesting at least. Unless the old man completely lost his marbles.

“The ancient Greeks revered the apple as a symbol of love and sexual desires, sir...” he says, and I’m immediately full attention. Love and sexual desires is my symbol. I find myself leaning forward, and even Taylor instinctively takes a half step forward.

“That is a symbol associated with the Greek Goddess Aphrodite; or you may know her as the Goddess of Love. As the story goes, sir, if a gentleman tossed or threw an apple to a maiden, he was confessing his love to her...” he says and takes a pause to catch his breath. Anastasia was my maiden for all intents and purposes; one, I deflowered. So far, he is on the right track.

 Mr. Caria takes a lungful of air and continues his story.

“If the maiden in turn caught the apple, or at least attempted to, it meant that she was reciprocating her love to him.” I’m with him so far. I want Anastasia to catch my apple all the way.

Then he looks at me funny and with a glint in his eyes, he says...

“Young man,” and he says it in such a way that if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was talking with a Yorkshire accent, sounding like ‘yung man’, I open my eyes wider, and listen.

“The apple was also considered to bring abundance and fertility. It was customary for the bride to eat an apple on the wedding night ensuring sexual desire, fertility to birth children and abundance within the marriage.”

I smile, “Well, Mr. Caria,” I reply smiling confidently, “we don’t need help in the first count; second one can wait for a long time, and the third one I’ve already accumulated.”

 “Mr. Grey, even a blind man can see the truth in what you said. But, what is available in the present time must be preserved for the future. Don’t you agree, sir?” I nod imperceptibly.

“But that is not the only reason I suggested the ‘apple’ as your symbol sir. You exude power, but your stance tells me that you are the man among powerful men; you are a leader, a top dog if you don’t mind my crude expression. You would fight for her... to death I think...” he says slowly and assuredly nodding at himself, his expression going dark, and eyes bottomless.

“Do you know why it became the symbol it has become?”

I shake my head, my gaze fixed on him. He nods and continues his story.

“Eris, the Goddess of Chaos, Strife and Discord was angry for not being invited to the wedding of Thetis, a sea-nymph, and Peleus. Their wedding was attended by many of the Olympian gods.”

“I’ve never heard of Thetis, and Peleus’ story,” I say nonchalantly, shrugging one shoulder. He smiles, and leans in just a bit conspiratorially.

“Perhaps you have heard of their offspring, Achilles,” he says in a soft voice.

“Him, I have heard of,” I say nodding.

“As the story goes told by Hesiod, in Theogony, it was said that Eris was angry for not being invited. So, she threw a golden apple on the banquet table, claiming that whoever was the possessor of this beautiful, rare apple would be considered the most beautiful goddess. Of course, Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite moved quickly to claim it, and they started fighting over it. However, Zeus intervened and he appointed Paris who was considered the most handsome man among all of mortal men,” says slowly his voice taking the sound of a talented orator.

“Clearly each Goddess wanted to be declared the most beautiful and they each offered something to Paris in return for his declaration. Athena promised Paris riches, Hera promised him power, and Aphrodite promised Paris the most beautiful mortal woman in the world to have as his wife.

He chose, Aphrodite of course, and she promised him Helen of Sparta. But the catch was that Helen was already the wife of Menelaus. Oracles warned Paris against his quest, but he nonetheless set sail to Sparta and was welcomed warmly by Menelaus which of course immediately ceased when Paris left Sparta with his wife who chose to leave with him thus in return igniting the Trojan War. Consequently, the Golden Apple became the symbol of love worth fighting for.”

I find myself saying, “Golden Apple it is...”

“Very good, sir. We will call you when the ring is completed. It shall be ready in a week’s time.”

*****

I sit in the SUV, and Taylor closes the door behind, and quickly takes his seat in the front.

“Where to sir?” he asks.

“One second Taylor, just pull out and drive around the block until I give you a direction,” I say. I check my text messages, and there’s one from Elliot.

*On my way to get dad. Nora says his schedule is open for the afternoon. Did you talk to him already?*

Taylor looks momentarily confused, but he quickly regains his composure and pulls out of the underground parking lot. I take my Blackberry out, and taking a deep breath, dial.

“Christian?” he answers after the second ring.

“Hi dad! Listen, are you doing anything this afternoon?” I ask.

“I’m done with all of the court appearances, and I was only going to go through some new files. I don’t have anything that can’t wait. What’s going on, son?”

“Since our wedding is not far off, I think we need to shop for some tux for you, me and my best man Elliot, and my groomsman Taylor,” I say, and Taylor slightly swerves off his lane... “If we live through the drive that is...” I mutter under my breath so that only Taylor can hear me. He reddens all the way to the hairline and to the backs of his ears.

“Is that why Elliot just got here?” he asks surprised.

“Hi little bro!” I hear Elliott shout out in the background.

“Yes, I had a busy morning, I just got the time to call you,” I say, and Taylor’s eyes goes to meet mine on the rearview mirror, and he quickly looks ahead.

"Ahh... Sure, let me just clear my schedule with Nora, and where do you want us to meet you?"

"Elliot already knows dad. He'll bring you."

"Is it a secret?"

"No, dad. It's not. I'll see you there," I say cryptically to which he responds, "Yes, I will see you...uhm...there," and we hang up.

"Are we meeting them there sir?" asks Taylor.

"Yes, we are," I say impassively.

"Where is there, sir?" Very funny Taylor.

"Take me to Escala. Armani is sending their tailor to take our measurements. We are going to get custom made tuxedos."

"Yes, sir, but why not at Armani?" asks Taylor confused and drives.

“Changed my mind at the last minute, and had Andrea rearrange it last night. I need to talk to my dad about the new security. What time were they coming by the way?”

“Oh, yes, Welch has them under his hand, it’s up to you sir. If you wish to meet them earlier today rather than later, they could come after the measurements, sir.”

“Let’s do that. It’ll give me time to talk to him, and send him with the new security. I believe Welch just sent the information.”

“Yes, that’s already been arranged sir, Welch sent both of us the info right when we were leaving,” he says as he pulls into Escala’s underground garage.

He pulls into one of the bays, and parks the SUV. He opens my door, and we make our way to the elevators.

“Sir, before your brother and your father come over, I need to have a word with you,” says Taylor as the elevator doors close on us. I scrutinize Taylor’s face, and it’s impassive, giving nothing away. I say nothing for a long minute. When the elevator whisks us away towards the penthouse, I nod, “in my study.” He nods and waits patiently.

When the elevator reaches the top floor, the doors ding opens.

“My study,” I say and he follows. If Taylor requested a private meeting, he must have concerns, and I am dying to hear them.

I walk into my study, and he closes the door behind. I sit in my chair, and lift my gaze up to Taylor with expectant curiosity.

“Sir, I have security concerns about your wedding in light of the recent events. How important is it for you to have it at your parents’ house?”

“It’s a done deal, Taylor. It is going to be at my parents’ house.” He nods his head.

“We know the layout to your parents’ house. From a security point, it’s nearly indefensible. Just a full sweep is not enough, sir. We have had issues in the past with Leila even after we’ve done a full sweep of Miss Steele apartment, and that was one woman sir; we knew who she was and what she looked like, and how she would behave. Now we have a would be assailant after you or even Miss Steel, and even your family members are targets.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Mr. Grey, we can’t get any place 100% secure, and it is less so with your parents’ place because of the water. We will need to have the guest list so Welch’s team can do background checks on all of them, and also on the serve staff, catering staff, florists, the Pastor, down to the ring boy and the flower girl sir. It’s a large estate, we need to have eyes and guns covering each entrance and more so on the waterfront sir.”

“No guns on my wedding!” I bellow.

“We have to have guns sir, because we don’t know who is after you! I can’t take the chance on your security after the Charlie Tango incident. Pella said that the perp is going to try, and he will try to succeed this time! I can’t have you or Miss Steele or someone you care dying under my watch! Sir!” he raises his voice anxious. I haven’t seen Taylor anxious much before.

“Guns are abhorrent to me, Taylor! Especially at my parents’ house who hate them as much, if not more! No guns! That’s final!”

“Mr. Grey,” Taylor says resolutely, his eyes dark, his stance firm with finality in his decision. “It’s been a privilege and honor to work for you, but I quit! You’ve given me your limits, and I’m giving you mine. A man bent on killing you is on the loose, made attempts to kill you, the paparazzi is camping up and down the street to harass you or Miss Steele, you’re taking away our means to protect you! I can’t go along with that sir! I have to stand my ground.” I flinch at his answer. I can’t lose Taylor. Both my hands go to my hair in exasperation; I take a deep breath inhaling.

“Why are you so bent on carrying a gun? You’re a skilled fighter.”

“Mr. Grey, a would be assailant with a gun would not care for my fighting skills. A good fighter dies just as fast as a bad one in the hands of a weaker fighter because of the weapons he posseses. I won’t have time to manually insert the bullets into him! On your wedding day, all kinds of people will be coming out of the woodworks because they have had some sort of grudge against you. We don’t know who we’re looking for, and Pella insists that the perp isn’t working alone! That means we’re looking for unknown number of people, with unknown faces, and more than likely people you know. That’s when it becomes more imperative than ever that we have close protection for you, with weapons, sir!” he nearly shouts at me. My gaze is impassive piercing him. It’s an internal struggle to go with what I know about guns, and the truth in what Taylor is saying.

“Mr. Grey, please! I’m still having nightmares about the bony ass, skinny all for her 102 pounds self...excuse me,” he corrects himself, “Leila, holding a gun to Miss Steele’s head in an apartment we did a sweep, and she didn’t have a key for, and she could have shot Miss Steele!” he says making me flinch.

“But she didn’t and I managed to subdue her!”

“Mr. Grey, it’s very likely that this man who is after you has never subbed for you! Therefore, he will not be subdued like Leila was whom you knew how to bring down to heel. This guy is going to go until he kills you or someone you care for. I can’t watch that helplessly, sir. If he shows up, some of the security will for sure die trying to protect you and those you love because you didn’t permit us a way to protect you properly! You have to allow us to carry weapons sir, or I will walk! With this no weapons shit, you’re making me feel like a fucking moron with no way to protect you, and we’ll be like sitting ducks for whoever is intending to harm you. Am I to hand the perp a flower while he’s holding a gun to your or Miss Steele’s head? I’d rather shoot the fucking bastard. Sir!”

He’s right. Fuck! My face gets creased with the thought and I shot up to my feet.

“Fine! Only close protection bodyguards and for those who are guarding the entry points are allowed to carry weapons. And those must be chosen carefully by you and Welch, but not for those who are walking around the guests. Otherwise I’ll have your and Welch’s balls on a plate!” I hiss through gritted teeth.

“Is that a workable enough compromise for you?” I ask. He sighs, and wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Yes, sir. It is. One other measure I want to bring up to your attention. We need to have a decoy.”

“A decoy for what?”

“A decoy location for the wedding: Have the guests to come to a different location, and after their identities verified, we send them to the correct location at your parents’ house, and have the identifications checked it there as well. That way, we can thwart off majority of the paparazzi and confuse any other person who is looking to come after you,” he says, and that’s actually not a bad idea.

“Yes, that would be fine. Arrange the place with Andrea, and Welch. I’ll leave you and Welch in arranging the details. And, Taylor, you don’t mind being one of the groomsmen?”

“No, sir. I was wondering how I could suggest that to you myself. It won’t get any closer protection than that. So, that was a good move sir.”

“Guess, Anastasia can use a bridesmaid in Gail who can accompany you,” he grins surprised in my response.

“Yes, sir!”

“I would like you to stay, Taylor, but you already figured that out yourself,” I say my face serious, unblinking. He’s the best personal security, and he cares for Anastasia. I can’t replace him. Not in such a short time. And, oddly, I find myself fond of him.

“So, does this mean you are staying?”

“Yes, it does, sir. Thank you for compromising.” I nod dismissing him.

*****

“Mr. Grey, extends your arms out, sir,” and I do as I’m told.

“Angelo, how long have you been doing this?” I ask as a way for small talk.

“Forty years this coming October, sir,” he replies politely, pushes his half-moon glasses back, and takes his soap marker and marks the fabric.

“Mr. Grey, if you please get off the platform, you’re much taller than I am. I need to take your chest measurement, sir,” he says, and I get off the ½ foot platform.

“Now lift your arms up, sir,” and I do. He politely thanks me.

He writes the measurement down, and sticks the pencil behind his ear. Just as I lower my arms to my side, he says, “if you could extend your arms, once more sir, I need to take your waist measurement.”

He takes the measuring tape wrapping around my waist, writes the measurement down, and re-measures me again.

“Did you get it wrong the first time?” I ask. He smiles.

“No sir, we tailors have a saying, ‘measure twice, and cut once,’ it prevents errors,” he replies.

“Are these the fabrics to be used?” asks my dad from the sofa he’s sitting on.

“Yes, they are. Do you have any objection to the colors?”

“No, I think they’re great colors.”

“I’m not too fond of this pale pink for the waistcoat,” mutters Elliot. “How come you’re getting the silver color?”

“I’m the one who’s getting married,” I say, and Elliot snorts. “Besides, you’re supposed to match with your girlfriend, not with me,” I say and he grins.

“Mr. Grey, would you climb back on the platform please?” asks Angelo, the tailor. He’s barely 5’6”, salt and pepper hair with a mustache. He has a pin cushion strapped above his elbow. He must be nearing 60 years old, though he looks agile for his age.

“Where are you from Angelo?”

“I was born in Napoli, sir. My father was a tailor, his father before that.”

“But you speak English so well,” says my brother.

“Yes, sir. I grew up in Brooklyn. My father immigrated with one of the fashion houses as a tailor. He was nearly unmatched in his skills, sir. I’ve learned most what I know from him,” he says as he takes his measuring tape again.

“Mr. Grey, would you be so kind to take your shoes off? I need to measure you for the pants, sir.”

“Who did you work for before Armani?” asks my father curiously.

“I worked for most of the major fashion houses, sir. Brioni, Canali, Loro Piana, Ermenegildo Zegno, Stefano Ricci, Sartoria, Casare Attolini and now Armani,” he replies, leaning down.

“Mr. Grey, would you spread your legs about a foot apart, sir?” he asks politely. I do, and he measures from my foot to my crutch, and then he measures from my foot to my waist. Then he measures my calf’s, and my ankle’s circumference. He then goes around my body taking my measurements at various sides and angles.

After he’s done with measuring me for my tuxedo, he measures my father, and then Elliot.

“Christian, why didn’t you choose a tuxedo off the rack? It’s not like you’ll be able to use these colors again. Maybe, you can use the tux, but not the waistcoat,” he says with distaste. “I’m sure Armani had a load of tuxedos to satisfy the needs of someone whose taste is as discerning as yours,” he says grinning. I frown at him.

“Why do think that is Angelo?” he asks the tailor.

“It’s quite simple, sir,” replies Angelo as he busily continues his measuring with professional accuracy. “As any well-dressed gentleman can tell you, there is no off the rack outfit as elegant as a hand-tailored suit, sir. You may perhaps be familiar with the expression of the “Bespoke tailor.” Have you heard of it, sir?” asks Angelo without stopping his measurements.

“I don’t think I have,” answers Elliot genuinely.

“Perhaps not sir, a lot of great quality suits are available in such big fashion houses. But, this phrase originates from 17^th century when tailors had bolts of fabric in their shops. Customer would come and choose the material, and hence the fabric was spoken for, therefore the term “bespoke” was used. This elegant material was then transformed into the garment tailored to the customer’s individual measurements, just as I’m doing for you gentlemen today.

Mr. Grey requested specific materials, and he wishes not to use made-to-measure tailoring.”

“Isn’t this what you’re doing already? You are measuring us, and you are going to make tuxedos from our measurements,” asks Elliot.

“No, sir. Made-to-measure uses an existing template individually adjusted to your measurements. What I’m doing here is creating your own pattern from your measurements, sir. This will in fact be a one of a kind suit. Mr. Grey has great taste in clothing, sir,” says Angelo reverently, and continues to measure Elliot.

(courtesy of Alonna C.)

“Hey bro, just so you know, we’re having a Bachelor party for you!” says Elliot surprising me.

“What? I don’t want a bachelor party! I wish you asked me first, Elliot!” I say scowling.

“Sure you do! It’s a tradition! I expect you to throw me one when I get snatched up!” He says grinning.

“What kind of Bachelor party? Who is coming?”

“Guess it has to be semi-clean since dad is coming. Otherwise mom would have my hide,” he says nonchalantly.

“Dad’s coming?” I ask mortified.

“I’m right here, Christian,” he says amused. “Yes, I said I’d come, but if it makes you feel better, I won’t stay very long.”

“It’s not that, dad. I don’t like unexpected surprises.”

“Is there any other kind? And besides I just informed you that you’re having a bachelor party. No surprise left. In fact I’ll give you the option of going out to a club, or bringing the party to my apartment. Which one do you prefer?”

I think for a minute. I can leave a club anytime I want, but I have less control over the environment. If it’s at Elliot’s I have more control, and I guess I can leave anytime I want that one as well.

“Your place!” I reply.

“Good choice!”

“Who’s invited?”

“Your buddies, of course. Dad, Flynn, me, Mac, Bastille and a couple of my buddies from my crew whom you already know.”

“Leaves their names with Taylor, before you leave.”

“So, you’re coming for sure?”

“Yes,” I say grudgingly.

“Do I have your word on it?” I sigh.

“Yes Elliot! You do,” I reply.

“Good!” he answers. “Now would be a good time to tell you that it’s going to be held two days before your wedding, and incidentally, that’s the day of the bachelorette party, and Kate told me to tell you that she’s taking Ana the night before the wedding. She said some shit like ‘it’s bad luck to see the bride the night before the wedding,’ and since her mother is making the wedding dress, apparently, you’re not supposed to be seeing it. Guess it’s another bad luck things you two are supposed to be avoiding...” he says but I won’t let him finish.

I jump to my feet, and bellow.

“What did you say?”

“I said it’s another bad luck thing,” he replies confused.

“No! You said something about a bachelorette party and that Anastasia spending the night before the wedding with your girlfriend. I’m talking about those parts!”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, dude!” he says, and I move forward. Angelo accidentally sticks a pin in Elliot’s flesh.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Grey. Please don’t move,” he warns softly.

“Tell that to my brother!” growls Elliot.

“Now, now Christian!” says Dad, chiding me. “Your brother and Kate are only fulfilling certain traditions. Your mother had to spend the night with her best friend at her parents’ house. It’s not so bad. And besides, you’ll have her for the rest of your life after that night. It’s just one night,” he says and I grunt.

“I don’t know about that, Dad! A bachelorette party for Ana? The night before the wedding spent apart?” I say growling. I hate it when people toss things at my way with things that I can’t control.

“What will they be doing at this hypothetical bachelorette party? And what will they be doing at Kate’s apartment the night before the wedding?”

“Girl stuff, I suppose,” Elliot says shrugging.

“Thank you Mr. Grey. You may step down, sir,” says Angelo leading him off the platform. Taylor is next in line to be measured. Elliot scowls again.  Taylor takes the platform stoically like a sacrificial lamb. I turn my head back to Elliot.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“No one asked me if they could have a bachelorette party, or if Ana could spend the night apart from me!” I bellow.

“Christian, you are not trying to control Ana, are you?” asks Dad quizzically.

“Dad, stay out of this, please!” I say in a controlled voice.

“As Ana’s future father-in-law, I have to say something. Are you doing this out of jealousy or for control, Christian? Or both?” he adds reluctantly.

“Dad, Anastasia is the most important person in my life. Most important person that has ever been in my life. So, forgive me if I have a hard time consenting naked men ogling my fiancée!” I say.

“What are you so worried about? I’d say if you didn’t do well in business, you’d have a career as being an exotic dancer, in fact, you can put all of them out of business,” jokes Elliot.

“That’s not the point!” I bellow.

My dad intervenes.

“Boys!” he says and his meaning is not lost with us. “Perhaps, you can allocate some ground rules, and that way the girls can enjoy themselves among each other, have a bridal shower and their bachelorette party, and spend the night together, and you can have your way by establishing your parameters in how they can do it. There’s always a compromise and a workable way.”

“Does Anastasia know about this?” I ask softly, hiding the menace in my voice.

“I’m not sure,” says Elliot. “Kate may have told her already or maybe she will tell her today. I couldn’t tell you for sure,” he replies shrugging.

Come to think of it, Anastasia hasn’t texted me yet since our lunch meeting. Normally she would have made a witty remark. Even if she has gotten busy, she would have said something. But, it’s been nearly 3 hours and not a beep out of her.

“Excuse me,” I say to the company, and I walk to my study out of the earshot. I dial Anastasia’s cell. She answers it quietly.

“Hello?”

“Ana? Why are you speaking so quietly?”  I ask, alarmed.

“Oh, just... nothing,” she says avoiding.

“Anastasia, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing’s the matter Christian. Just busy, that’s all...”

“Busy with what, Ana?”

“Hi, Christian!”  I hear the voice of one of my least favorite people. Katherine Kavanagh.

“Why is she there?” I ask quietly, too quietly, masking my carefully controlled anger.

I can almost feel Anastasia closing her eyes, and swallowing. “Delivering an invitation...” she says quietly.

“For?” I probe.

“A party...” she replies softly. I breathe through my nose, like a raging bull, closing my eyes. She’s not going to give me the lowdown until later, I suspect.

“Would that be the bachelorette party?” I hiss through my gritted teeth.

“You don’t want me to go?”

“Over my dead body!” I shout pacing around my office.

“Give me that phone!” I hear Katherine the ball crusher who must have overheard my voice. And before I get a chance to say no, the voice over the phone changes.

“Christian, Elliot just texted me that you are going to the bachelor party he’s going to be throwing in your honor! Why can’t I do a bachelorette party for my best friend’s honor? Why the double standard? You can ogle some other naked chick’s body, but Ana can’t do the same with a male stripper? And how do you know I’m getting a stripper? Maybe we’ll just eat, and drink, and dance, and have fun!”

“N.O.!” I spell out for her loudly.

“Well, F. U. and your rules! She’s marrying you, isn’t she? Why couldn’t she have this one night, like you would be doing?”

“What?” I hear Anastasia in the background. “Give me the damned phone Kate!” she says, and in the next ten seconds her voice comes a lot closer to my ear.

“Christian? Is it true?”

“What?” I hiss.

“That you are going to be attending a bachelor party. And here I was worried how you would feel about a bachelorette party, and giving Kate a hard time about it!”

“I did NOT want to participate in it. I was cornered by Elliot! I intend to leave as early as possible. Preferably before the strippers take their clothes off!”

“What? More than one stripper?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to go! I think it is going to be clean, because dad will also be there.”

“That wasn’t the reply I was looking for Christian,” she says, and her voice comes through as if she’s speaking outside the range of the receiver. “Kate, I’d be happy to come to the bachelorette party, and I accept your invitation to spend my last night before the wedding with you!”

“Yaaay!” I hear Kate’s shriek in the background. What the fuck just happened?

“Goodbye, Christian. I’ll see you this evening,” she says sweetly and hangs up on me! On me! I pace around my office to get a grip on my growing anger. Where Anastasia is concerned, she always manages to get me lose control. Fuck! I feel anxiety creeping over. I count backwards. Twently...nineteen...eighteen...seventeen...sixteen...fifteen...fourteen...thirteen...twelve...eleven...ten...nine...eight...seven...six...five...four...three...two...one... Breathe in, breathe out! Easy Grey!

I dial Anastasia’s number again. She doesn’t answer. I hang up. I call SIP, and her newly hired assistant Hannah puts me through.

“SIP, Ana Steele speaking,” she answers the phone.

“Don’t hang up! I did not ask for a bachelor party. I didn’t want to go to it. Elliot just backed me into it, and I happened to have made a promise to go without knowing what would be there. If I can get out of it, I will. But, I don’t want you to the bachelorette party,” I say in one breathe.

“I know it must be excruciating to be backed into going to a bachelor party where there will be strippers. And, I shall also endure the painful prospect of seeing stripping males in my bachelorette party. But, you can be sure that I’ll try to endure it as stoically as I can as you would be doing the same. Are we done, here, sir?” she asks angrily.

“No! Are you going to spend the night before our wedding with Kate?” I ask.

“Can we discuss this tonight, please, Christian? I have work to do, I have a horrible headache,” she says.

“I need to pick you up in an hour,” I say without a preamble. I’m sure that Angelo can be done measuring everyone by then. And since Elliot stuck it to me, I’ll stick it right back to him...

“I’ve got more than two hours, and I took a long lunch,” she protests.

“I don’t give a fuck about it! I need to see you! And soon! Be ready!”

“Christian...” she sighs in exasperation. She makes me feel completely helpless. I don’t know which way is up with her, and yet, everything she does, makes me feel alive. I need to see her!

“And,” I add with a deep voice, “I’ve made a promise to you this morning that I’d take good care of you,” I say in a caressing tone that would run a shiver through her body.

“Christian, you’re not playing fair!” she says.

“Baby, I can’t play fair where you are concerned. You’re my number one priority. I’ll get you in one hour... Be ready,” I say with a carnal promise in my voice.

“Okay,” she mutters barely audible.

When I walk back into the living room, Angelo already completed taking measurements.

“Mr. Grey, I shall now go and take the measurements of Mr. Trevelyan, and then Mr. Steele, sir. Thank you for your time. At your convenience sir, we’ll do two fittings one next week, and one the week after, then I shall be able to finish your tuxedos, sir. It would be best if each individual picked their own tuxedo up just to make sure it fits perfectly, if in case any last second alteration is required,” he says.

“Thank you Angelo. Taylor will see you out,” I say, and he nods his head and follows Taylor out.

I turn to my dad, and Elliot, and smile.

“Thank you for taking time to get your measurements. I wanted to speak with you about adding to your security,” and I hear a groan from Elliot, and a subdued grunt from my dad.

“Dude, do you know how awkward that is to have a bodyguard following your ass everywhere when you’re in construction business? Is it really necessary?”

“It’s not just a necessity, but it’s a requirement. My investigator thinks that Charlie Tango incident was a sabotage. We can’t take a chance. Until the perpetrator is caught, I’m afraid we need to have additional security.”

“Is it the same guy that’s coming?”

“One of them is...” I reply.

“One of them? What the fuck? Are you getting back at me for giving you a bachelor party? You’re so strange bro! Some other guys would be thankful for the gesture.”

“I’m not some other guy, Elliot! And there is a security threat that we can’t take lightly! You will each get two close protection bodyguards.”

“That’s six for us! I don’t know how we’ll explain that to your mother, or your sister, Christian. They’re already getting extremely annoyed with the only one they have.”

“Dad, please! Annoyance is the least of my worries. Their well-being is what concerns me at this time. This is until this perp is caught. Then we can go easy on the security,” I reply.

“Do you mean to say that you’ll continue to send us bodyguards even after the perp is caught?”

“Perhaps not as many you have now, but, yes, for your security.”

“Are you trying to pay us in kind for getting you in trouble with Ana?” asks Elliot.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I had the security arranged before you thought of the bachelor party,” I say smiling.

“Christian, I will make sure that your brother doesn’t allow anything tasteless, or cause anything that would upset your mother, or Ana, or Kate for that matter,” dad says resolutely.

“Dad! What good is it if we can’t get him in trouble?”

“And aren’t you one bit concerned that your girlfriend ogling over male strippers?” I ask.

“What? You think she’ll take something else over this?” he asks confidently exaggeratedly showcasing his body. “Not a chance!” he says grinning.

I check my watch inconspicuously as possible.

“Dad, I think it’s our cue to leave,” says Elliot smiling.

“Hope we didn’t get you in a lot of trouble bro! But you gotta lighten up. We just want you to have fun before you get married, that’s all!”

“That’s very considerate of you, Elliot. Don’t forget your parting gifts before you leave,” I say smiling.

“Taylor!” I call out.

“Yes, sir,” he replies walking in.

“Are they here?” I ask with an impassive face.

“They are, sir. They’ll be ready to leave with both Mr. Greys, sir,” he replies with a glint in his eyes. Six guys file in dark suits; they look like six Rambos in military haircuts. My dad’s eyes go wide.

“Your mom’s not gonna like this,” he whispers to Elliot.

“You’re telling me! My guys at work will have enough ammo to fuck with my head for a year!” he mutters back.

Taylor introduces them.

“Mr. Grey, these are your security details: Brian Evans and Tom Rhodes,” he says to Elliot.

“Frank O’Neil, John Brady, Hank Thomas, Tony Citoli, Clint Warner, Joe Genarro, and Claus Schwartz go with you Mr. Grey,” he says turning to my father. “They each know who to follow sir.”

“Great, just great,” he replies softly. Then gaining his, ‘I’m-an-attorney’ composure, he find his professional voice:

“Nice to meet you gentlemen. Well, shall we?” he says like the man who is resigned to his fate.

“Do we have to keep you at home? Or what’s the procedure?” my dad asks on his way out.

Elliot is holding the rear end of the group. “See you on your party, bro! I don’t feel so bad about getting you in trouble anymore,” he says grinning.

After the elevator door closes behind them, Taylor turns to me and asks, “Are we going back to GEH, Mr. Grey?”

“No, we’re going to SIP to pick Miss Steele up.”

“Yes, sir.”

*****

(Skyfall - Adele)



We’re in front of SIP six minutes to the hour. I sit in my seat, my emotions in check so far, but where Anastasia is concerned, my control has a way of melting away like a block of ice in desert heat. I check my watch again, waiting for her to appear at the door. Its six minutes past the hour. She’s not at the door. My gaze is fixed at the door, unblinking. Did she forget? Did she decide that she wants to keep working? Suddenly fear grips me. I’ll give her a few more minutes. Maybe she had something to finish up. I feel my silent watch ticking as my gaze is fixed at the door. Suddenly the door opens and I feel relief, but it’s someone else. I take my Blackberry out and dial Anastasia’s number.

She doesn’t answer. Panic and anger is rising in me like the twin volcanoes. I dial SIP’s phone number, and her new assistant Hannah answers on the third ring, and she’s breathless like she ran to the phone.

“SIP. Miss Steele’s office, Hannah speaking,” she says trying to catch her breath. I look at my phone confused.

“Hannah! This is Christian Grey. Where is Miss Steele?”

“About that, sir...”

“What?” I ask sharply my anger rising. Where did she go? Where is Sawyer? “Did she go somewhere?” I ask sharply. If she did, why didn’t Sawyer call me?

“No, sir. She didn’t go anywhere,” she answers politely.

“Where the hell is Sawyer?” I ask forcefully.

“Mr. Sawyer is waiting for Miss Steele to get ready. I don’t think he was aware that she was leaving early, sir,” she replies.

“Do you know why she isn’t answering her cell phone?”

“Yes,” she says, and then her voice goes into a whisper. “Mr. Grey, I’m sorry. She was unwell for the last hour. She didn’t want anyone to know. She just took some Advil, and put her head down on her desk, and told me to wake her five till the hour, but, she gave me several things to do, and they took me a while to finish my tasks, and I completely lost track of time. I’m so sorry I didn’t wake her up on time, Mr. Grey. She just went to wash her face quickly before she came out,” she says in one breath. Then realizing what she wasn’t supposed to say, she adds chagrined, “Oh, she probably didn’t want me to pass this on. I apologize Mr. Grey. Miss Steele’s here, sir,” she says and hands her the phone.

“Mr. Grey is on the phone for you, Ana,” she says her voice distant from the speaker.

“Hello Christian,” says Anastasia in a soft tone, and my heart melts.

“Hi,” I reply. “Are you just about ready?”

“Yes. I was just in the bathroom. I’ll be out in a minute,” she replies.

“Okay,” I answer softly.

She appears at the door within a few minutes followed by Sawyer, and I find myself quickly exiting the SUV and walking towards her in sure steps. She looks pale.

“Hi,” I say taking her hand. It’s cold. “Hi,” she replies swallowing.

“Are you not well?”

“Just tired... That’s all,” she replies avoiding my question.

“Ana, what’s wrong?” I ask turning her to me.

“Nothing...” she replies.

I take her under my arm protectively, and walk her to the SUV.

“Have you eaten?” I ask once we’re in the car.

“Yes, I had a sandwich,” she replies.

“Ana! What’s the matter?” I ask anxiety rising in me. “Do I need to take you to a hospital?”

“No, Christian. I just had a headache... or rather still do,” she says, and I pull her into my lap where she curls up, and I kiss the top of her head, holding her possessively. She sighs and her arms wrap around my neck, she tucks her head under the crook of my neck.

“Let’s not fight baby! Not over silly things like parties,” I say.

“Well, are you going to Elliot’s party?”

“Do you want me to stay?” I ask her, willing her to say, ‘yes,’ that she wants me to stay.

“The rational part of me wants you to stay. But, I trust you. I want to show you that I trust you even among bare breasts, and naked asses,” she says wincing.

“Is that why you got sick?”

“Yes. But, I have to be a grown up about it. It doesn’t mean I won’t be insanely and irrationally jealous. Because you’re my man!” she says in a fervent whisper. I feel immensely happy and elated with her response. I want her to be possessive of me. I want her world to start and end with me, and the fact that she feels that way enough to get sick about it makes me both happy and mad. Because I want to protect her, and I want her to be well. I don’t want to be the reason, the cause that makes her ill.

“Baby, I feel the same way about you!" I tell her. 
"But what do we do, Christian? You’ve made a promise, and so have I,” she whispers.

“We’ll just have to be there long enough to fulfill the promise we’ve made. But, do you really want to stay at Kate’s on the night before our wedding?”

“I don’t know what else to do. Apparently it’s the tradition, and I agreed to sleep apart from you that night,” she says blushing. I frown.

“I can’t let you stay far away from me, Ana. It will also create a security problem. I don’t want paparazzi haunting you. Her apartment is not safe enough. How about this compromise? Kate comes and stays with us in the apartment with you in your old room. That way you won’t be sleeping with me that night, but also fulfill your promise to your friend of spending the night with her,” she blinks with some sort of relief looking up at me.

Then I lean in and whisper in her ear. “We’ll just have to make sure that I fuck you a good part of the day to make up for the night you won’t be with me,” I say salaciously making her blush redder than the communist manifesto.

“Yes!” she whispers, her eyes darkening, holding onto me tighter.

“How’s your headache?”

“Surprisingly much better,” she replies smiling.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I have plans for us.”

“I hope it’s before dinner,” she replies in my ear.

When Taylor stops the SUV in front of the elevators, Sawyer jumps out, and opens the door, and without breaking out connection, I take Anastasia out, walking her to the elevators. We’re like the sun and its planet, so drawn to each other; when we are near, there's an unbearable urge and a magnetic pull to mesh our bodies together. I press the elevator call button, and when the door dings open, I walk Anastasia in, and hold my hand up to Sawyer.

“Take the next one up,” I say to him with an impassive face, making Anastasia blush and bury her head in embarrassment under my arm.

“Yes, sir,” he replies going crimson.

When the door closes, I enter my code to the penthouse, and turn to Anastasia encasing her between my arms against the elevator wall. My growing erection is pressing against her stomach. I lean in and press my forehead against hers. I inhale her scent deeply as I close my eyes.

“God, you’re intoxicating me Ana!” I say as I start devouring her mouth, and tongue, sucking, and nipping her lips and chin and neck. She reciprocates, lacing her hands in my hair, and pulling my head down forcefully. I groan in her mouth, the stress of last two hours finally seeking its release. I take her nipple perking under her silk blouse into my mouth through her shirt, and she pushes her arms up against the elevator wall making her breast push forth into my mouth.

“Not here baby,” I whisper. “I want you in my bed,” I say, and as the elevator door dings open to my penthouse, I scoop her off the floor and hoist her onto my shoulder making he shriek in surprise.

“Christian, put me down!” she protest.

“All in good time, baby,” I reply as I walk into the foyer. Mrs. Jones is coming from the kitchen and blinks in total surprise.

“Hello Mrs. Jones,” I greet her.

“Uhm... Yes, hi, Mr. Grey. Miss Steele,” she says and quickly scurries away.

“Oh God,” mutters Anastasia under her breath, covering her face. I smile.

I walk into our bedroom and close the door with my foot and deposit her on the bed, falling on top of her.

“How fond are you of this shirt?” I ask.

“I like it quite well, unless you’re willing to replace it,” she responds, and I grin. With one swift move I pull it apart, buttons flying every which way in my bedroom.  I take it off her, and unzip her skirt pulling it off. She’s in her lacy underwear, silk stockings held up with her garter belt. I gaze down at her appreciating the look for a minute, and lean down, and pull her bra cups off one agonizingly slow movement at a time. I lean down and carefully take one nipple into my mouth and expertly flick it back and forth with my tongue, and graze it with my teeth making her gasp. I hold the bottom of her elongated nipple between my front teeth, and my tongue fellates it relentlessly. My index finger and thumb mirror my actions on her other nipple. Anastasia moans in a pain pleasure, and instantly wraps her legs around my torso.

My lips move between the twin peaks of her breasts, and nip and suck my way down to her navel, and probe her belly, making her clench her groin. Moving down to the top of her pubic bone, my hand cups her sex, dipping one finger and then two into her already drenched sex. I feel my cock pushing hard against my pants. My mouth goes down to her pulsating nub. She yelps with pleasure. I pull her bottom towards me. My mouth covers the orifice of her sex. My tongue dips into her sex like there’s no tomorrow and my teeth graze over her clit. She raises her hip off the bed and into my welcoming mouth. My tongue dips deeper in circles first then in and out. While with one hand I push her ass into my mouth, my other hand teases her breasts. I’m all tongue, teeth, and hands giving her sensory overload. She soon comes loudly with long waves shuddering.

I quickly divest myself off my clothes, and flip Anastasia onto her belly.

“Lift that glorious ass up the air baby,” I say and as she does, I separate her legs with mine pushing them aside, and making room for myself. My cock is pulsing, and demanding to be inside her, and nothing short of taking her all the way, branding her inside will satisfy the beast in me.

I plunge myself into her making her gasp, filling her tight orifice, and the feeling is exquisite. I stay like that connected, my eyes closed, and her ass in my hands, savoring her.

“Ready baby?” I ask.

“One second,” she says and adjusts her legs, spreading her arms forward.

“Okay, I’m ready, lose yourself, and take me with you!” she says making my need for her grow in leaps and bounds, and I move. First slowly, I move in and out, and she meets me thrust for thrust, and plunging against me, making me find the deepest unexplored spots inside her sex, groaning.

I push one leg over, making room for my hands to reach her breast, and teasing and tugging, I move and slide in and out of her. The swelling of her nub and her unbearable wetness pushes me to the vortex of pleasure. As I start groaning, I feel the tightening of her sex, and her body begins to convulse with built up pleasure, shaking her legs. The desire in me for her pushes me higher than all the limits, and I work my hips in circles, lifting her ass up in the air at such an angle to give my cock a better leverage against her pleasure zone. As my rhythm gets faster and faster, I pound into her relentlessly.

“Christian, please!” she yells.

“This is mine!" I hiss holding onto her sex. "You are mine!”

“Yours,” groans Anastasia.

“And I’m yours! Don’t. You.Forget.That!” I say and empty myself into her as we both reach the peaks of our please.

I thrust one last time into her, and finally without breaking out connection, I collapse onto bed, without breaking our connection. I pull her into my arms, completely sated, and happy.

Before she closes her eyes relaxed, I hear her whisper, “I love you, Christian.”  I hold her tighter.

“And I, you, Ana,” I whisper softly, and drift off.