Web Fic
Chapter 48
Chapter 48
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I point to Taylor and mouth his name.
She laughs. Then stops abruptly.
And I know it’s the kegel balls.
“Relax,” I whisper. “If it’s too much…” I kiss each of her knuckles and suck the tip of her little finger, rolling my
tongue around it, as she did with my finger earlier. Ana closes her eyes, tips her head back, and inhales. Her
smoldering eyes meet mine when she opens them again. She rewards me with a wicked grin and I respond in
kind.
“So what can we expect at this event?” she asks.
“Oh, the usual stuff.”
“Not usual for me.”
Of course. When would she have been to an event like this? I kiss her knuckles once more as I explain. “Lots of
people flashing their cash. Auction, raffle, dinner, dancing—my mother knows how to throw a party.”
The Audi joins the line of cars arriving at my parents’ house. Ana strains to have a look. I glance out of the back
window to see Reynolds from the security detail following us in my other Audi Q7.
“Masks on.” I retrieve mine from the black silk bag beside me.
When we pull up into the driveway, we are both in disguise. Ana looks spectacular. She’s dazzling, and I want to
show her off to the world. Taylor comes to a stop and one of the valets opens my door.
“Ready?” I ask Ana.
“As I’ll ever be.”
“You look beautiful, Anastasia.” I kiss her hand and climb out of the car.
I put my arm around my date, and we walk alongside the house on a green carpet my mother has rented for the
occasion. I glance once over my shoulder and observe our four security personnel walking behind us, looking
everywhere. It’s reassuring.
“Mr. Grey!” A photographer calls out to me, and I pull Ana close and we pose.
“Two photographers?” Ana observes, curious.
“One is from The Seattle Times; the other is for a souvenir. We’ll be able to buy a copy later.”
We pass a line of servers holding flutes of champagne and I hand a glass to Ana.
My parents have gone all-out, like they do every year. Pavilion, pergolas, lanterns, checkered dance floor, ice
swans, and a string quartet. I watch Ana as she takes in the surroundings with awe. It’s gratifying to see my
parents’ generosity through her eyes. It’s not often that I get the opportunity to stand back and appreciate how
lucky I am to be part of their world.
“How many people are coming?” she asks, sizing up the elaborate tent next to the shoreline.
“I think about three hundred. You’ll have to ask my mother.”
“Christian!” I hear the shrill, not-so-dulcet tones of my sister; then she’s throwing her arms around my neck in a
melodramatic display of affection. She’s a vision in pink.
“Mia.” I return her enthusiastic hug. She spies Ana, and I’m forgotten.
“Ana! Oh, darling, you look gorgeous! You must come and meet my friends. None of them can believe that
Christian finally has a girlfriend.” She hugs Ana and takes her hand. Ana gives me a quick apprehensive look
before Mia drags her to a group of women who coo over her. All except one.
Shit. I recognize Lily, Mia’s friend since kindergarten. Spoiled, wealthy, gorgeous, but spiteful, she embodies all
the worst attributes of privilege and entitlement. And there was a time when she thought she was entitled to me. I
shudder.
I watch Ana as she’s gracious with Mia’s friends, but she steps back suddenly looking uncomfortable. I think Lily is
being an asshole. This will never do. I walk over and put my arm around Ana’s waist. “Ladies, if I could claim my
date back, please?”
“Lovely to meet you,” Ana says to the throng as I pull her away. “Thank you,” she mouths.
“I saw that Lily was with Mia. She is one nasty piece of work.”
“She likes you,” Ana observes.
“Well, the feeling is not mutual. Come, let me introduce you to some people.”
Ana is impressive—the perfect date. Gracious, elegant, and sweet, she listens attentively to anecdotes, she asks
intelligent questions, and I love the way she defers to me.
Yes. I especially love that. It’s novel and unexpected.
But then she’s always unexpected.
What’s more, she’s oblivious to the many, many admiring glances she receives from both men and women, and
she stays close to my side. I attribute her rosy glow to the champagne and maybe the kegel balls, and if the latter
are bothering her, she hides it well.
The master of ceremonies announces that dinner is served, and we follow the green carpet across the lawn to the
pavilion. Ana is looking toward the boathouse.
“Boathouse?” I ask.
“Maybe we can go there later.”
“Only if I can carry you over my shoulder.”
She laughs, then stops abruptly.
I grin. “How are you feeling?”
“Good,” she says with a superior air, and my grin broadens.
Game on, Miss Steele.
Behind us, Taylor and his men follow at a discreet distance and, once in the tent pavilion, position themselves so
they have a good view of the crowd.
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