Part II 6

The white-suited servers move effortlessly through thegrowing crowd of guests with bottles of champagne,topping off my glass with worrying regularity. I must notdrink too much. I must not drink too much, I repeat tomyself, but I’m beginning to feel light-headed, and I don’tknow if it’s the champagne, the charged atmosphere ofknow if it’s the champagne, the charged atmosphere ofmystery and excitement created by the masks, or thesecret silver balls. The dull ache below my waist isbecoming impossible to ignore.“So you work at SIP?” asks a balding gentleman in ahalf-bear—or is it a dog?—mask. “Heard rumors of ahostile takeover.”I flush. There is a hostile takeover from a man who hasmore money than sense and is a stalker par excellence.“I’m just a lowly assistant, Mr. Eccles. I wouldn’tknow about these things.”Christian says nothing and smiles blandly at Eccles.“Ladies and gentlemen!” The master of ceremonies,wearing an impressive black and white harlequin mask,interrupts us. “Please take your seats. Dinner is served.”Christian takes my hand, and we follow the chatteringcrowd to the large marquee.The interior is stunning. Three enormous, shallowchandeliers throw rainbow-colored sparkles over the ivorysilk lining of the ceiling and walls. There must be at leastthirty tables, and they remind me of the private dining roomat the Heathman—crystal glasses, crisp white linencovering the tables and chairs, and in the center, anexquisite display of pale pink peonies gathered around asilver candelabra. Wrapped in gossamer silk beside it is abasket of goodies.Christian consults the seating plan and leads me to atable in the center. Mia and Grace are already in situ, deepin conversation with a young man I don’t know. Grace iswearing a shimmering mint green gown with a Venetianmask to match. She looks radiant, not stressed at all, andshe greets me warmly.“Ana, how delightful to see you again! And looking sobeautiful, too.”“Mother,” Christian greets her stiffly and kisses her onboth cheeks.“Oh, Christian, so formal!” she scolds him teasingly.Grace’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Trevelyan, join us atour table. They seem exuberant and youthful, though it’sdifficult to tell beneath their matching bronze masks. Theydifficult to tell beneath their matching bronze masks. Theyare delighted to see Christian.“Grandmother, Grandfather, may I introduce AnastasiaSteele?”Mrs. Trevelyan is all over me like a rash. “Oh, he’sfinally found someone, how wonderful and so pretty! WellI do hope you make an honest man of him,” she gushes,shaking my hand.Holy cow. I thank the hea一vens for my mask.“Mother, don’t embarrass Ana.” Grace comes to myrescue.“Ignore the silly old coot, m’dear.” Mr. Trevelyanshakes my hand. “She thinks because she’s so old, she hasa God-given right to say whatever nonsense pops into thatwoolly head of hers.”“Ana, this is my date, Sean.” Mia shyly introduces heryoung man. He gives me a wicked grin, and his browneyes dance with amusement as we shake hands.“Pleased to meet you, Sean.”Christian shakes Sean’s hand as he regards himChristian shakes Sean’s hand as he regards himshrewdly. Don’t tell me that poor Mia suffers from heroverbearing brother, too. I smile at Mia in sympathy.Lance and Janine, Grace’s friends, are the last coupleat our table, but there is still no sign of Mr. Grey.Abruptly, there’s the hiss of a microphone, and Mr.Grey’s voice booms over the PA system, causing thebabble of voices to die down. Carrick stands on a smallstage at one end of the marquee, wearing an impressive,gold, Punchinello mask.“Welcome, ladies and gentleman, to our annual charityball. I hope that you enjoy what we ha一ve laid out for youtonight and that you’ll dig deep into your pockets tosupport the fantastic work that our team does with CopingTogether. As you know, it’s a cause that is very close tomy wife’s heart, and mine.”I peek nervously at Christian, who is staringimpassively, I think, at the stage. He glances at me andsmirks.“I’ll hand you over now to our master of ceremonies.Please be seated, and enjoy,” Carrick finishes.Polite applause follows, then the babble in the tentstarts again. I am seated between Christian and hisgrandfather. I admire the small white place card with finesilver calligraphy that bears my name as a waiter lights thecandelabra with a long taper. Carrick joins us, kissing meon both cheeks, surprising me.“Good to see you again, Ana,” he murmurs. He reallylooks very striking in his extraordinary gold mask.“Ladies and gentlemen, please nominate a table head,”the MC calls out.“Ooo—me, me!” says Mia immediately, bouncingenthusiastically in her seat.“In the center of the table you will find an envelope,”the MC continues. “Would everyone find, beg, borrow, orsteal a bill of the highest denomination you can manage,write your name on it, and place it inside the envelope.Table heads, please guard these envelopes carefully. Wewill need them later.”Holy crap. I ha一ven’t brought any money with me.Holy crap. I ha一ven’t brought any money with me.How stupid—it’s a charity event!Fishing out his wallet, Christian produces two hundreddollarbills.“Here,” he says.What?“I’ll pay you back,” I whisper.His mouth twists slightly, and I know he’s not happy,but he doesn’t comment. I sign my name using his fountainpen—it’s black, with a white flower motif on the cap—and Mia passes the envelope round.In front of me I find another card inscribed with silvercalligraphy—our menu.~~~~~~~~~~A Masked Ball in aid of Coping TogetherMenuSalmon Tartare with Cr&egra一ve;me Fraiche and Cucumberon Toasted BriocheAlban Estate Roussanne 2006Alban Estate Roussanne 2006Roasted Muscovy Duck BreastCreamy Sunchoke Purée, Thyme Roasted BingCherries, Foie GrasChateauneuf-du-Pape Vieilles Vignes 2006 Domainede la JanasseSugared Crusted Walnut ChiffonCandied figs, Sabayon, Maple Ice CreamVin de Constance 2004 Klein ConstantiaSelection of Local Cheeses and BreadsAlban Estate Grenache 2006Coffee and Petits Fours~~~~~~~~~~~~~Well, that accounts for the number of crystal glasses inWell, that accounts for the number of crystal glasses inevery size that crowd my place setting. Our waiter is back,offering wine and water. Behind me, the sides of the tentthrough which we entered are being closed, while at thefront, two servers pull back the canvas, revealing thesunset over Seattle and Meydenbauer Bay.It’s an absolutely breathtaking view, the twinkling lightsof Seattle in the distance and the orange, dusky calm of thebay reflecting the opal sky. Wow. It’s so calm andpeaceful.Ten servers, each holding a plate, come to standbetween us. On a silent cue, they serve us our starters incomplete synchronization, then vanish again. The salmonlooks delicious, and I realize I am famished.“Hungry?” Christian murmurs so only I can hear. Iknow he’s not referring to the food, and the muscles deepin my belly respond.“Very,” I whisper, boldly meeting his gaze, andChristian’s lips part as he inhales.Ha! See . . . two can play at this game.Christian’s grandfather engages me in conversationimmediately. He’s a wonderful old man, so proud of hisdaughter and three children.It is weird to think of Christian as a child. The memoryof his burn scars come unbidden to my mind, but I quicklyquash it. I don’t want to think about that now, thoughironically, it’s the reason behind this party.I wish Kate was here with Elliot. She would fit in sowell—the sheer number of forks and knives laid out beforeher wouldn’t daunt Kate—she would command the table.I imagine her duking it out with Mia over who should betable head. The thought makes me smile.The conversation at the table ebbs and flows. Mia isentertaining, as usual, and quite eclipses poor Sean, whomostly stays quiet like me. Christian’s grandmother is themost vocal. She, too, has a biting sense of humor, usuallyat the expense of her husband. I begin to feel a little sorryfor Mr. Trevelyan.Christian and Lance talk animatedly about a deviceChristian’s company is developing, inspired byChristian’s company is developing, inspired bySchumacher’s principle Small is Beautiful. It’s hard tokeep up. Christian seems intent on empoweringimpoverished communities all over the world with wind-uptechnology—devices that need no electricity or batteriesand minimal maintenance.Watching him in full flow is astonishing. He’spassionate and committed to improving the lives of the lessfortunate. Through his telecommunications company, he’sintent on being first to market with a wind-up mobilephone.Whoa. I had no idea. I mean I knew about his passionabout feeding the world, but this . . .Lance seems unable to comprehend Christian’s plan togive the technology away and not patent it. I wondervaguely how Christian made all his money if he’s so willingto give it all away.Throughout dinner a steady stream of men in smartlytailored dinner jackets and dark masks stop by the table,keen to meet Christian, shake his hand, and exchangekeen to meet Christian, shake his hand, and exchangepleasantries. He introduces me to some but not others. I’mintrigued to know how and why he makes the distinction.During one such conversation, Mia leans across andsmiles.“Ana, will you help in the auction?”“Of course,” I respond only too willing.By the time dessert is served, night has fallen, and I’mreally uncomfortable. I need to get rid of the balls. Before Ican excuse myself, the master of ceremonies appears atour table, and with him—if I’m not mistaken—is MissEuropean Pigtails.What’s her name? Hansel, Gretel . . . Gretchen.She’s masked of course, but I know it’s her when hergaze doesn’t move beyond Christian. She blushes, andselfishly I’m beyond pleased that Christian doesn’tacknowledge her at all.The MC asks for our envelope and with a verypracticed and eloquent flourish, asks Grace to pull out thewinning bill. It’s Sean’s, and the silk-wrapped basket isawarded to him.I applaud politely, but I’m finding it impossible toconcentrate on any more of the proceedings.“If you’ll excuse me,” I murmur to Christian.He looks at me intently.“Do you need the powder room?”I nod.“I’ll show you,” he says darkly.When I stand, all the other men round the table standwith me. Oh, such manners.“No, Christian! You’re not taking Ana—I will.”Mia is on her feet before Christian can protest. His jawtenses, I know he’s not pleased. Quite frankly, neither amI. I ha一ve . . . needs. I shrug apologetically at him, and hesits down quickly, resigned.On our return, I feel a little better, though the relief ofremoving the balls has not been as instantaneous as I’dhoped. They’re now stashed safely in my clutch purse.Why did I think I could last the whole evening? I amstill yearning—perhaps I can persuade Christian to takestill yearning—perhaps I can persuade Christian to takeme to the boathouse later. I flush at the thought and glanceat him as I take my seat. He stares at me, the ghost of asmile crossing his lips.Phew . . . he’s no longer mad at a missedopportunity, though maybe I am. I feel frustrated—irritable even. Christian squeezes my hand, and we bothlisten attentively to Carrick, who is back on stage talkingabout Coping Together. Christian passes me another card—a list of the auction prizes. I scan them quickly.~~~~~~~~~~~~~Auction Gifts And Gracious Donors for CopingTogetherSigned Baseball Bat from the Mariners – Dr. EmilyMainwaringGucci Purse, Wallet & Keyring – AndreaWashingtonOne Day Voucher for Two at Escla一va, BraeburnCenter – Elena LincolnCenter – Elena LincolnLandscape and Garden Design – Gia MatteoCoco De Mer Coffret & Perfume Beauty Selection –Elizabeth AustinVenetian Mirror – Mr. and Mrs. J. BaileyTwo Cases of Wine of Your Choice from AlbanEstates – Alban Estates2 VIP Tickets for XTY in Concert – Mrs. L. YesyovRace Day at Daytona – EMC Britt Inc.Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen First Edition – Dr.A. F. M. Lace-FieldDrive an Aston Martin DB7 for a day – Mr. & Mrs.L. W. NoraOil Painting Into the Blue by J. Trouton – KellyTroutonGliding Lesson – Seattle Soarers ClubWeekend Break for Two at the Heathman, Portland– The HeathmanOne weekend stay in Aspen, Colorado (Sleeps 6) –Mr. C. GreyOne Week Stay Aboard the SusieCue Yacht (6berths) Moored in St Lucia – Dr. & Mrs. LarinOne Week at Lake Adriana, MONTANA (sleeps 8)– Mr. & Dr. Grey~~~~~~~~~~~~~Holy shit. I blink up at Christian.“You own property in Aspen?” I hiss. The auction isunderway, and I ha一ve to keep my voice down.He nods, surprised at my outburst and irritated, Ithink. He puts his finger to his lips to silence me.“Do you ha一ve property elsewhere?” I whisper.He nods again and inclines his head to one side in awarning.The whole room erupts with cheering and applause;one of the prizes has gone for twelve thousand dollars.“I’ll tell you later,” Christian says quietly. “I wanted tocome with you,” he adds rather sulkily.come with you,” he adds rather sulkily.Well, you didn’t. I pout and I realize that I’m stillquerulous, and no doub一t, it’s the frustrating effect of theballs. My mood darkens after seeing Mrs. Robinson onthe list of generous donors.I glance around the marquee to see if I can spot her,but I can’t see her telltale hair. Surely Christian would ha一vewarned me if she was invited tonight. I sit and stew,applauding when necessary, as each lot is sold forastonishing amounts of money.The bidding moves to Christian’s place in Aspen andreaches twenty thousand dollars.“Going once, going twice,” the MC calls.And I don’t know what possesses me, but I suddenlyhear my own voice ringing out clearly over the throng.“Twenty-four thousand dollars!”Every mask at the table turns to me in shockedamazement, the biggest reaction of all coming from besideme. I hear his sharp intake of breath and feel his wrathwashing over me like a tidal wa一ve.washing over me like a tidal wa一ve.“Twenty-four thousand dollars, to the lovely lady insilver, going once, going twice . . . Sold!”Holy shit, did I really just do that? It must be the alcohol.I’ve had champagne plus four glasses of four differentwines. I glance up at Christian who’s busy applauding.Crap, he’s going to be so angry, and we’ve been gettingon so well. My subconscious has finally decided to makean appearance, and she’s wearing her Edvard MunchScream face.Christian leans over to me, a large fake smile plasteredacross his face. He kisses my cheek and then movescloser to whisper in my ear in a very cold, controlledvoice.“I don’t know whether to worship at your feet orspank the living shit out of you.”Oh, I know what I want right now. I gaze up at him,blinking through my mask. I just wish I could read what’sin his eyes.“I’ll take option two, please,” I whisper frantically asthe applause dies down. His lips part as he inhales sharply.Oh that chiseled mouth—I want it on me, now. I acheOh that chiseled mouth—I want it on me, now. I achefor him. He gives me a radiant sincere smile that lea一ves mebreathless.“Suffering, are you? We’ll ha一ve to see what we can doabout that,” he murmurs as he runs his fingers along myjaw.His touch resonates deep, deep inside where that achehas spawned and grown. I want to jump him right here,right now, but we sit back to watch the auction of the nextlot.I can barely sit still. Christian drapes an arm around myshoulders, his thumb rhythmically stroking my back,sending delicious tingles down my spine. His free handclasps mine, bringing it to his lips, then letting it rest on hislap.Slowly and surreptitiously, so I don’t realize his gameuntil it’s too late, he eases my hand up his leg and againsthis erection. I gasp, and my eyes dart in panic around thetable, but all eyes are fixed on the stage. Thank hea一vensfor my mask.Taking full advantage, I slowly caress him, letting myfingers explore. Christian keeps his hand over mine, hidingmy bold fingers, while his thumb skates softly over thenape of my neck. His mouth opens as he gasps softly, andit’s the only reaction I can see to my inexperienced touch.But it means so much. He wants me. Everything south ofmy na一vel contracts. This is becoming unbearable.A week by Lake Adriana in Montana is the final lot forauction. Of course Mr. and Dr. Grey ha一ve a house inMontana, and the bidding escalates rapidly, but I amMontana, and the bidding escalates rapidly, but I ambarely aware of it. I feel him growing beneath my fingers,and it makes me feel so powerful.“Sold, for one hundred ten thousand dollars!” the MCdeclares victoriously. The whole room bursts intoapplause, and reluctantly I follow as does Christian, ruiningour fun.He turns to me and his lips twitch. “Ready?” he mouthsover the rapturous cheering.“Yes,” I mouth back“Ana!” Mia calls. “It’s time!”What? No. Not again! “Time for what?”“The First Dance Auction. Come on!” She stands andholds out her hand.I glance at Christian who is, I think, scowling at Mia,and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, but it’s laughterthat wins. I succumb to a cathartic bubble of schoolgirlgiggles, as we are thwarted once more by the tall, pinkpowerhouse that is Mia Grey. Christian peers at me, andafter a beat, there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips.“The first dance will be with me, okay? And it won’tbe on the dance floor,” he murmurs lasciviously into myear. My giggles subside as anticipation fans the flames ofmy need. Oh, yes! My inner goddess performs a perfecttriple Salchow in her ice skates.“I look forward to it.” I lean over and plant a soft,chaste kiss on his mouth. Glancing around, I realize thatour fellow guests at the table are astonished. Of course,they’ve never seen Christian with a date before.He smiles broadly at me. And he looks . . . happy.He smiles broadly at me. And he looks . . . happy.Wow.“Come on, Ana,” Mia nags. Taking her outstretchedhand, I follow her onto the stage where ten more youngwomen ha一ve assembled, and I note with vague unease thatLily is one of them.“Gentlemen, the highlight of the evening!” the MCbooms over the babble of voices. “The moment you’ve allbeen waiting for! These twelve lovely ladies ha一ve allagreed to auction their first dance to the highest bidder!”Oh no. I blush from head to toe. I hadn’t realized whatthis meant. How humiliating!“It’s for a good cause,” Mia hisses at me, sensing mydiscomfort. “Besides, Christian will win.” She rolls hereyes. “I can’t imagine him letting anyone outbid him. Hehasn’t taken his eyes off you all evening.”Yes, focus on the good cause, and Christian is boundto win. Let’s face it, he’s not short of a dime or two.But it means spending more money on you! mysubconscious snarls at me. But I don’t want to dance withanyone else—I can’t dance with anyone else—and it’s notspending money on me, he’s donating it to the charity.Like the twenty-four thousand dollars he’s alreadyspent? My subconscious narrows her eyes.Shit. I seem to ha一ve gotten away with my impulsivebid. Why am I arguing with myself?“Now, gentlemen, pray gather round, and take a goodlook at what could be yours for the first dance. Twelvecomely and compliant wenches.”Jeez! I feel like I’m in a meat market. I watch,Jeez! I feel like I’m in a meat market. I watch,horrified, as at least twenty men make their way to thestage area, Christian included, moving with easy gracebetween the tables and pausing to say a few hellos on theway. Once the bidders are assembled, the MC begins.“Ladies and gentlemen, in the tradition of themasquerade we shall maintain the mystery behind themasks and stick to first names only. First up we ha一ve thelovely Jada.”Jada is giggling like a schoolgirl, too. Maybe I won’tbe so out of place. She’s dressed head to foot in na一vytaffeta with a matching mask. Two young men stepforward expectantly. Lucky Jada.“Jada speaks fluent Japanese, is a qualified fighterpilot, and an Olympic gymnast . . . hmm.” The MC winks.“Gentleman, what am I bid?”Jada gapes, astounded at the MC; obviously, he’stalking complete garbage. She grins shyly back at the twocontenders.“A thousand bucks!” one calls.Very quickly the bidding escalates to five thousanddollars.“Going once . . . going twice . . . sold!” the MCdeclares loudly, “to the gentleman in the mask!” And ofcourse all the men are wearing masks so there are hoots oflaughter, applause, and cheering. Jada beams at herpurchaser and quickly exits the stage.“See? This is fun!” whispers Mia. “I hope Christianwins you, though . . . We don’t want a brawl,” she adds.“Brawl?” I answer horrified.“Brawl?” I answer horrified.“Oh yes. He was very hot-headed when he wasyounger.” She shudders.Christian brawling? Refined, sophisticated, likes-Tudor-choral-music Christian? I can’t see it. The MCdistracts me with his next introduction—a young woman inred, with long jet-black hair.“Gentlemen, may I present the wonderful Mariah.What are we going to do about Mariah? She’s anexperienced matador, plays the cello to concert standard,and she’s a champion pole-vaulter . . . how about that,gentlemen? What am I bid, please, for a dance with thedelightful Mariah?”Mariah glares at the MC and someone yells, veryloudly, “Three thousand dollars!” It’s a masked man withblond hair and beard.There is one counter-bid, but Mariah sells for fourthousand dollars.Christian is watching me like a hawk. BrawlerTrevelyan-Grey—who would ha一ve known?“How long ago?” I ask Mia.She glances at me, nonplussed.“How long ago was Christian brawling?”“Early teens. Drove my parents crazy, coming homewith cut lips and black eyes. He was expelled from twoschools. He inflicted some serious damage on hisopponents.”I gape at her.“Hasn’t he told you?” She sighs. “He got quite a badrep among my friends. He was really persona non gratarep among my friends. He was really persona non gratafor a few years. But it stopped when he was about fifteenor sixteen.” She shrugs.Holy fuck. Another piece of the jigsaw falls into place.“So, what am I bid for the gorgeous Jill?”“Four thousand dollars,” a deep voice calls from theleft side. Jill squeals in delight.I stop paying attention to the auction. So Christian wasin that kind of trouble at school, fighting. I wonder why. Istare at him. Lily is watching us closely.“And now, allow me to introduce the beautiful Ana.”Oh shit, that’s me. I glance nervously at Mia, and sheshoos me center stage. Fortunately, I don’t fall over, butstand embarrassed as hell on display for everyone. When Ilook at Christian, he’s smirking at me. The bastard.“Beautiful Ana plays six musical instruments, speaksfluent Mandarin, and is keen on yoga . . . well, gentlemen—” Before he can even finish his sentence Christianinterrupts him, glaring at the MC through his mask.“Ten thousand dollars.” I hear Lily’s gasp of disbeliefbehind me.Oh fuck.“Fifteen.”What? We all turn as one to a tall, impeccably dressedman standing to the left of the stage. I blink at Fifty. Shit,what will he make of this? But he’s scratching his chin andgiving the stranger an ironic smile. It’s obvious Christianknows him. The stranger nods politely at Christian.“Well, gentlemen! We ha一ve high rollers in the housethis evening.” The MC’s excitement emanates through hisharlequin mask as he turns to beam at Christian. This is agreat show, but it’s at my expense. I want to wail.“Twenty,” counters Christian quietly.The babble of the crowd has died. Everyone is staringat me, Christian, and Mr. Mysterious by the stage.“Twenty-five,” the stranger says.Could this be any more embarrassing?Christian stares at him impassively, but he’s amused.All eyes are on Christian. What’s he going to do? Myheart is in my mouth. I feel sick.“One hundred thousand dollars,” he says his voiceringing clear and loud through the marquee.“What the fuck?” Lily hisses audibly behind me, and ageneral gasp of dismay and amusement ripples through thecrowd. The stranger holds his hands up in defeat, laughing,and Christian smirks at him. From the corner of my eye, Ican see Mia bouncing up and down with glee. Mysubconscious is gazing at Christian, utterly gobsmacked.“One-hundred thousand dollars for the lovely Ana!Going once . . . going twice . . .” The MC stares at thestranger who shakes his head with mock regret and bowschivalrously.“Sold!” the MC cries out triumphantly.In a deafening round of applause and cheering,Christian steps forward to take my hand and help me fromthe stage. He gazes at me with an amused grin as I makemy way down, kisses the back of my hand then tucks itinto the crook of his arm, and leads me toward themarquee’s exit.“Who was that?” I ask.He gazes down at me. “Someone you can meet later.Right now, I want to show you something. We ha一ve aboutthirty minutes until the First Dance Auction finishes. Thenwe ha一ve to be back on the dance floor so that I can enjoythat dance I’ve paid for.”“A very expensive dance,” I mutter disapprovingly.“I’m sure it’ll be worth every single cent.” He smilesdown at me wickedly. Oh, he has a glorious smile, and theache is back, blossoming in my body.We’re out on the lawn. I thought we would be headingto the boathouse, but disappointingly we seem to beheading for the dance floor where the big band is nowsetting up. There are at least twenty musicians, and a fewguests are milling about, furtively smoking—but since mostof the action is back in the marquee, we don’t attract toomuch attention.Christian leads me to the rear of the house and opens aFrench window leading into a large comfortable sittingroom that I’ve not seen before. He walks through thedeserted hall toward the sweeping staircase with itselegant, polished wooden balustrade. Taking my handfrom the crook of his arm, he leads me up to the secondfloor and up another flight of stairs to the third. Opening awhite door, he ushers me into one of the bedrooms.“This was my room,” he says quietly, standing by thedoor and locking it behind him.It’s large, stark, and sparsely furnished. The walls arewhite as is the furniture; a spacious double bed, a deskand chair, shelves crammed with books and lined withvarious trophies for kickboxing by the look of them. Thewalls are hung with movie posters: The Matrix, FightClub, The Truman Show, and two framed postersfeaturing kick boxers. One is named Guiseppe DeNatale—I’ve never heard of him.But what catches my eye is the white pin board abovethe desk, studded with a myriad of photographs, Marinerspennants, and ticket stubs. It’s a slice of young Christian.My eyes come back to the magnificent, beautiful man nowstanding in the center of the room. He looks at me darkly,brooding and sexy.“I’ve never brought a girl in here,” he murmurs.“Never?” I whisper.He shakes his head.I swallow convulsively, and the ache that has beenbothering me for the last couple of hours is roaring now,raw and wanting. Seeing him standing there on the royalblue carpet in that mask . . . it’s beyond erotic. I want him.Now. Any way I can get him. I ha一ve to resist launchingmyself at him and ripping his clothes off. He waltzes overto me slowly.“We don’t ha一ve long, Anastasia, and the way I’mfeeling right this moment, we won’t need long. Turn round.Let me get you out of that dress.”I turn and stare at the door, grateful that he’s locked it.Bending down he whispers softly in my ear, “Keep themask on.”mask on.”I groan as my body clenches in response. He’s noteven touched me yet.He grasps the top of my dress, his fingers slidingagainst my skin, and the touch reverberates through mybody. In one swift move, he opens the zipper. Holding mydress, he helps me to step out of it, then turns and drapesit artfully over the back of a chair. Removing his jacket, heplaces it over my dress. He pauses, and stares at me for amoment, drinking me in. I’m in the basque and matchingpanties, and I revel in his sensuous gaze.“You know, Anastasia,” he says softly as he stalkstoward me, undoing his bow tie so it hangs from either sideof his neck, then undoing the top three buttons of his shirt.“I was so mad when you bought my auction lot. Allmanner of ideas ran through my head. I had to remindmyself that punishment is off the menu. But then youvolunteered.” He gazes down at me through his mask.“Why did you do that?” he whispers.“Volunteer? I don’t know. Frustration . . . too muchalcohol . . . worthy cause,” I mutter meekly, shrugging.Maybe to get his attention?I needed him then. I need him more now. The ache isworse, and I know he can soothe it, calm this roaring,salivating beast in me with the beast in him. His mouthpresses into a line, and he slowly licks his upper lip. I wantthat tongue on me.“I vowed to myself I would not spank you again, evenif you begged me.”“Please,” I beg.“Please,” I beg.“But then I realized, you’re probably veryuncomfortable at the moment, and it’s not somethingyou’re used to.” He smirks at me knowingly, arrogantbastard, but I don’t care because he’s absolutely right.“Yes,” I breathe.“So, there might be a certain . . . latitude. If I do this,you must promise me one thing.”“Anything.”“You will safe word if you need to, and I will just makelove to you, okay?”“Yes.” I’m panting. I want his hands on me.He swallows, then takes my hand, and moves towardthe bed. Throwing the duvet aside, he sits down, grabs apillow, and places it beside him. He gazes up at mestanding beside him and suddenly tugs hard on my hand sothat I fall across his lap. He shifts slightly so my body isresting on the bed, my chest on the pillow, my face to oneside. Leaning over, he sweeps my hair over my shoulderand runs his fingers through the plume of feathers on mymask.“Put your hands behind your back,” he murmurs.Oh! He removes his bow tie and uses it to quickly bindmy wrists so that my hands are tied behind me, resting inthe small of my back.“You really want this, Anastasia?”I close my eyes. This is the first time since I met himthat I really want this. I need it.“Yes,” I whisper.“Why?” he asks softly as he caresses my behind with“Why?” he asks softly as he caresses my behind withhis palm.I groan as soon as his hand makes contact with myskin. I don’t know why . . . You tell me not tooverthink. After a day like today—arguing about themoney, Leila, Mrs. Robinson, the dossier on me, theroadmap, this la一vish party, the masks, the alcohol, thesilver balls, the auction . . . I want this.“Do I need a reason?”“No, baby, you don’t,” he says. “I’m just trying tounderstand you.” His left hand curls round my waist,holding me in place as his palm lea一ves my behind and landshard, just above the junction of my thighs. The painconnects directly with the ache in my bellyOh man . . . I moan loudly. He hits me again, inexactly the same place. I groan again.“Two,” he murmurs. “We’ll go with twelve.”Oh my! This feels different than the last time—socarnal, so . . . necessary. He caresses my behind with hislong-fingered hands, and I’m helpless, trussed up andpressed into the mattress, at his mercy, and of my ownfree will. He hits me again, slightly to the side, and again, tothe other side, then pauses as he slowly peels my pantiesdown and pulls them off. He gently trails his palm acrossmy behind again before continuing my spanking—eachstinging smack taking the edge off my need—or fueling it—I don’t know. I surrender myself to the rhythm ofblows, absorbing each one, sa一voring each one.“Twelve,” he murmurs his voice low and harsh. Hecaresses my behind again and trails his fingers downcaresses my behind again and trails his fingers downtoward my sex and slowly sinks two fingers inside me,moving them in a circle, round and round and round,torturing me.I moan loudly as my body takes over, and I come andcome, convulsing around his fingers. It’s so intense,unexpected, and quick.“That’s right, baby,” he murmurs appreciatively. Heunties my wrists, keeping his fingers inside me as I liepanting and spent over him.“I’ve not finished with you yet, Anastasia,” he says andshifts without removing his fingers. He eases my knees onto the floor so that now I’m leaning over the bed. Hekneels on the floor behind me and undoes his zipper. Heslides his fingers out of me, and I hear the familiar tear of afoil packet. “Open your legs,” he growls and I comply. Hestrokes my behind and eases into me.“This is going to be quick, baby,” he murmurs andgrabbing my hips, he eases out then slams into me.“Ah!” I cry out but the fullness is hea一venly. He’s hittingthe bellyache square on, again and again, eradicating itwith each sharp, sweet thrust. The feeling is mind-blowing,just what I need. I push back to meet him, thrust for thrust.“Ana, no,” he grunts, trying to still me. But I want himtoo much, and I grind against him, matching him thrust forthrust.“Ana, shit,” he hisses as he comes, and the torturedsound sets me off again, spiraling into a healing orgasm thatgoes on and on and wrings me out and lea一ves me spentand breathless.and breathless.Christian bends and kisses my shoulder then pulls outof me. Placing his arms around me, he rests his head in themiddle of my back, and we lie like this, both kneeling atthe bedside, for what? Seconds? Minutes even as ourbreathing calms. My bellyache has disappeared, and all Ifeel is a soothing, satisfying serenity.Christian stirs and kisses my back. “I believe you oweme a dance, Miss Steele,” he murmurs.“Hmm,” I respond, sa一voring the absence of achinessand basking in the afterglow.He sits back on his heels and pulls me off the bed ontohis lap. “We don’t ha一ve long. Come on.” He kisses myhair and forces me to stand.I grumble but sit back down on the bed and collect mypanties from the floor and scoop them on. Lazily I walk tothe chair to retrieve my dress. I note with dispassionateinterest that I did not remove my shoes during our illicittryst. Christian is tying his bow tie, ha一ving finishedstraightening himself and the bed.As I slip my dress back on, I check out thephotographs on the pin board. Christian as a sullen teenwas gorgeous even then: with Elliot and Mia on the skislopes; on his own in Paris, the Arc de Triomphe servingas a giveaway background; in London; New York; theGrand Canyon; Sydney Opera House; even the GreatWall of China. Master Grey was well tra一veled at a youngage.There are ticket stubs to various concerts: U2,Metallica, The Verve, Sheryl Crow, the New YorkMetallica, The Verve, Sheryl Crow, the New YorkPhilharmonic performing Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet—what an eclectic mix! And in the corner, there’s apassport-size photograph of a young woman. It’s in blackand white. She looks familiar, but for the life of me, I can’tplace her. Not Mrs. Robinson, thank hea一vens.“Who’s this?” I ask.“No one of consequence,” he mutters as he slips on hisjacket and straightens his bow tie. “Shall I zip you up?”“Please. Then why is she on your pin board?”“An oversight on my part. How’s my tie?” He raiseshis chin like a small boy, and I grin and straighten it forhim.“Now it’s perfect.”“Like you,” he murmurs and grabs me, kissing mepassionately. “Feeling better?”“Much, thank you, Mr. Grey.”“The pleasure was all mine, Miss Steele.”The guests are assembling on the dance floor. Christiangrins at me—we’ve made it just in time—and he leads meonto the checkered floor.“And now, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the firstdance. Mr. and Dr. Grey, are you ready?” Carrick nods inagreement, his arms around Grace.“Ladies and gentlemen of the First Dance Auction, areyou ready?” We all nod in agreement. Mia is withsomeone I don’t recognize. I wonder what happened toSean?“Then we shall begin. Take it away, Sam!”A young man strolls onto the stage amid warmapplause, turns to the band behind him and snaps hisfingers. The familiar strains of “I’ve Got You Under MySkin” fill the air.Christian smiles down at me, takes me in his arms, andstarts to move. Oh, he dances so well, making it easy tofollow. We grin at each other like idiots as he whirls mearound the dance floor.“I love this song,” Christian murmurs, gazing down atme. “Seems very fitting.” He’s no longer grinning, butserious.“You’re under my skin, too,” I respond. “Or you werein your bedroom.”He purses his lips but he’s unable to hide hisamusement.“Miss Steele,” he admonishes me teasingly, “I had noidea you could be so crude.”“Mr. Grey, neither did I. I think it’s all my recentexperiences. They’ve been an education.”“For both of us.” Christian is serious again, and it couldjust be the two of us and the band. We are in our ownprivate bubble.As the song finishes we both applaud. Sam the singerbows graciously and introduces his band.“May I cut in?”I recognize the man who bid on me at the auction.Christian grudgingly lets me go, but he’s amused, too.“Be my guest. Anastasia, this is John Flynn. John,Anastasia.”Shit!Christian smirks at me and wanders off to one side ofthe dance floor.“How do you do, Anastasia?” Dr. Flynn sayssmoothly, and I realize he’s British.“Hello,” I stutter.The band strikes up another song, and Dr. Flynn pullsme into his arms. He’s much younger than I imagined,though I can’t see his face. He’s wearing a mask similar toChristian’s. He’s tall, but not as tall as Christian, and hedoesn’t move with Christian’s easy grace.What do I say to him? Why is Christian so fucked-up?Why did he bid on me? It’s the only thing I want to askhim, but somehow that seems rude.“I’m glad to finally meet you, Anastasia. Are youenjoying yourself?” he asks.“I was,” I whisper.“Oh. I hope I’m not responsible for your change ofheart.” He gives me a brief, warm smile that puts me a littlemore at ease.“Doctor Flynn, you’re the shrink. You tell me.”He grins. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? The shrink bit?”I giggle. “I’m worried what I might reveal, so I’m alittle self-conscious and intimidated. And really I only wantto ask you about Christian.”He smiles. “First, this is a party so I’m not on duty,” hewhispers conspiratorially. “And second, I really can’t talkwhispers conspiratorially. “And second, I really can’t talkto you about Christian. Besides,” he teases, “we’d needuntil Christmas.”I gasp in shock.“That’s a doctor’s joke, Anastasia.”I flush, embarrassed, and then feel slightly resentful.He’s making a joke at Christian’s expense. “You’ve justconfirmed what I’ve been saying to Christian . . . thatyou’re an expensive charlatan,” I admonish him.Dr. Flynn snorts with laughter. “You could be ontosomething there.”“You’re British?”“Yes. Originally from London.”“How did you find yourself here?”“Happy circumstance.”“You don’t give much away, do you?”“There’s not much to give away. I’m really a very dullperson.”“That’s very self-deprecating.”“It’s a British trait. Part of our national character.”“Oh.”“And I could accuse you of the same, Anastasia.”“That I’m a dull person, too, Dr. Flynn?”He snorts. “No, Anastasia, that you don’t give muchaway.”“There’s not much to give away.” I smile.“I sincerely doub一t that.” He unexpectedly frowns.I flush, but the music finishes and Christian is oncemore by my side. Dr. Flynn releases me.“It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Anastasia.” He gives“It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Anastasia.” He givesme his warm smile again, and I feel that I’ve passed somekind of hidden test.“John.” Christian nods at him.“Christian.” Dr. Flynn returns his nod, turns on his heel,and disappears through the crowd.Christian pulls me into his arms for the next dance.“He’s much younger than I expected,” I murmur tohim. “And terribly indiscreet.”Christian cocks his head to one side. “Indiscreet?”“Oh yes, he told me everything,” I tease.Christian tenses. “Well, in that case, I’ll get your bag.I’m sure you want nothing more to do with me,” he sayssoftly.I stop. “He didn’t tell me anything!” My voice fills withpanic.Christian blinks before relief floods his face. He pullsme into his arms again. “Then let’s enjoy this dance.” Hebeams down, reassuring me, then spins me round.Why would he think that I’d want to lea一ve? It makesno sense.We dance for two more numbers, and I realize I needthe restroom.“I won’t be long.”As I make my way to the powder room, I remember Iha一ve left my purse on the dinner table, so I head down tothe marquee. When I enter, it’s still lit but quite deserted,except for a couple at the other end, who really ought toget a room! I reach for my bag.“Anastasia?”“Anastasia?”A soft voice startles me, and I turn to see a womandressed in a long, tight, black velvet gown. Her mask isunique. It covers her face to her nose but also covers herhair. It’s stunning with elaborate gold filigree.“I’m so glad you’re on your own,” she says softly.“I’ve been wanting to talk to you all evening.”“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are.”She pulls the mask from her face and releases her hair.Shit! It’s Mrs. Robinson.“I’m sorry, I startled you.”I gape at her. Holy cow—what the fuck does thiswoman want?I don’t know what the social conventions are formeeting known molesters of children. She’s smilingsweetly and gesturing for me to sit at the table. Andbecause I am lacking any sphere of reference, I do as sheasks out of stunned politeness, grateful that I am stillwearing my mask.“I’ll be brief, Anastasia. I know what you think ofme . . . Christian’s told me.”I gaze at her impassively, giving nothing away, but I’mpleased that she knows. It sa一ves me telling her, and she’scutting to the chase. Part of me is beyond intrigued as towhat she could ha一ve to say.She pauses, glancing over my shoulder. “Taylor’swatching us.”I peek around to see him scanning the tent by thedoorway. Sawyer is with him. They are looking anywherebut at us.but at us.“Look, we don’t ha一ve long,” she says hurriedly. “Itmust be obvious to you that Christian is in love with you. Iha一ve never seen him like this, ever.” She emphasizes thelast word.What? Loves me? No. Why is she telling me? Toreassure me? I don’t understand.“He won’t tell you because he probably doesn’t realizeit himself, notwithstanding what I’ve said to him, but that’sChristian. He’s not very attuned to any positive feelingsand emotions he may ha一ve. He dwells far too much on thenegative. But then you’ve probably worked that out foryourself. He doesn’t think he’s worthy.”I am reeling. Christian loves me? He hasn’t said it,and this woman has told him that’s how he feels? Howbizarre.A hundred images dance through my head: the iPad,the gliding, flying to see me, all his actions, hispossessiveness, one hundred thousand dollars for a dance.Is this love?And hearing it from this woman, ha一ving her confirm itfor me is, frankly, unwelcome. I’d rather hear it from him.My heart constricts. He feels unworthy? Why?“I’ve never seen him so happy, and it’s obvious thatyou ha一ve feelings for him, too.” A brief smile flits acrossher lips. “That’s great, and I wish you both the best ofeverything. But what I wanted to say is if you hurt himagain, I will find you, lady, and it won’t be pleasant when Ido.”She stares at me, ice-cold blue eyes boring into myShe stares at me, ice-cold blue eyes boring into myskull, trying to get under my mask. Her threat is soastonishing, so off the wall that an involuntary, disbelievinggiggle escapes me. Of all the things she could say to me,this is the least expected.“You think this is funny, Anastasia?” she splutters indismay. “You didn’t see him last Saturday.”My face falls and darkens. The thought of Christianunhappy is not a palatable one, and last Saturday I lefthim. He must ha一ve gone to her. The idea makes mequeasy. Why am I sitting here listening to this shit from herof all people? I slowly rise, gazing at her intently.“I’m laughing at your audacity, Mrs. Lincoln. Christianand I ha一ve nothing to do with you. And if I do lea一ve himand you come looking for me, I’ll be waiting—don’t doub一tit. And maybe I’ll give you a taste of your own medicineon behalf of the fifteen-year-old child you molested andprobably fucked-up even more than he already was.”Her mouth falls open.“Now if you’ll excuse me, I ha一ve better things to dothan waste my time with you.” I turn on my heel,adrenaline and anger coursing through my body, and stalktoward the entrance of the tent where Taylor is standingjust as Christian arrives, looking flustered and worried.“There you are,” he mutters, then frowns when he seesElena.I stride past him, saying nothing, giving him theopportunity to choose—her or me. He makes the rightchoice.“Ana,” he calls. I stop and face him as he catches up“Ana,” he calls. I stop and face him as he catches upwith me. “What’s wrong?” He gazes down at me, concernetched on his face.“Why don’t you ask your ex?” I hiss acidly.His mouth twists and his eyes frost. “I’m asking you,”he says, his voice soft but with an undertone of somethingfar more menacing.