Christian had not long left when Mrs. Jones stepped into the great room announcing Grace and Mia were on their way up.
"Oh—what a pity. Christian has just left for an appointment."
"There was mention of clothes racks, and they asked to see you." Gail was grinning as she delivered that news. These must be Mia's pre-worn gowns Christian had mentioned. I had rather hoped these might have been dropped off for me to consider in private, however that was apparently not going to be the case.
"Anastasia!" Grace said fondly when the elevator doors opened. With her inside the elevator car was Mia with not one, not two, but three fully laden clothing racks. Grace stepped forward to embrace me, followed by Mia, as one of Christian's security staff appeared, moving the three racks filled with garment bags into the great room.
"I'm afraid Christian is not home. He's stepped out for an appointment," I said, embarrassed to be walking around the apartment as if I belonged there.
"Better still," Grace said with a conspiratorial grin. "Christian mentioned you needed a gown for Saturday, so Mia and I are here to help. How about we move these through to your closet and you can look at them and see if there are any you'd like to try on?"
As soon as Grace suggested moving to my room, I blanched. I hadn't stepped in there since this morning. Christian might have left something of his in there from the night before—and the last people I wanted seeing that were his sister and mother! And then there was the matter of all the designer clothes that kept appearing in my wardrobe. If Christian's family saw those, they'd assume I was using him, although I'd been begging him to take them back.
"Nonsense. Ryan? Please move the racks over there," Gail said pointing to a space just beside the corridor leading to the bedrooms. "Ana, use the first room to change, then you can come out and show us."
Oh. My own personal fashion show with me as the model. Joy.
"Good idea, Gail," Mia said as she moved across to the first rack, opening garment bags one by one. All I could see was a sea of pink as Mia suggested I fetch a few pairs of heels from my closet. By the time I returned, the first rack was uncovered. It seemed Mia had a very defined taste. Pink with ruffles. And more pink. There wasn't anything on the rack I could really see myself wearing, but I'd promised Christian I'd accompany him, so I had to find something. Allowing Mia to hold one and then another against me, she narrowed it down to five potentials.
Meanwhile, Gail was setting up the great room with a chilled bottle of wine, some glasses, and a charcuterie platter on the coffee table. "Dr. Trevelyan-Grey? Ms. Grey. Please take a seat—I'd be happy to help Ms. Steele in and out of the dresses."
Before I objected, Gail had steered me into the closest guest room, pulling the potential dresses from the rack and closing the door behind you.
"You don't have to do this," I objected, embarrassed at the thought of stripping to my underwear in front of Christian's household manager.
"It's no bother," Gail said, focussing on undoing the fastenings on the first gown and not my body as I removed my clothes. "I thought you'd prefer I help you rather than Dr. or Ms. Grey."
She had a point, there. The second time meeting your whatever-he-is-to-me's mother does not need to involve me wearing only my underwear!
Holding out the pinkest and frilliest of the dresses for me, it wasn't even done up when Gail and I knew it wasn't the one. "Pop out there and show it to them—I'll get the next one ready," she said as I slipped on a pair of nude heels. I looked like a walking advertisement for Pepto Bismol. Thankfully, one look was enough to convince Mia and Grace the dress wasn't right, so I quickly returned to try on the next and the next. The last dress on the rack was actually quite pretty. Yes, still pink, it was a blush pink strapless number in slubbed dupion silk. The color worked well with my skin tone, although the dress was considerably loose around the chest and hips.
"That looks good on you," Grace commented when I made my fifth trip out to the great room. "It would need to be taken in, but that can be managed."
"Definitely the best so far," Mia agreed, sipping on what I believed to be her second or third glass of wine. "Let's see what else we have."
The second rack was a study in opposites—half were clearly from Mia's closet, the other half from Grace's. Nothing spoke to me, however, I allowed the two women to choose another selection before dutifully disappearing to the guest suite with Gail. All of Mia's gowns were a bust, although there was an ok gown in black and gold from Grace. While it was the sort of gown expected at an expensive society event, I don't think it made me look my best.
I wasn't vain, really I wasn't, yet I was not unaware that if I was at a red-carpet event on Christian Grey's arm, there would be certain expectations about how I looked. And so far, I was coming up well short of the mark.
"Maybe third time lucky?" Gail said pouring me a glass of wine before I ventured out to check out the third rack of dresses.
"I think you've earned yourself one of those, too," I said to Gail, gesturing to the bottle.
"Oh, not while I am working," Gail deferred.
"If the next dresses are like this, you're going to need it," I said, walking into the bathroom and grabbing the tumbler there, filling it with a generous serve of wine, and passing it to Gail. "When in Rome," I added, raising my glass. We both laughed, sipping wine before I re-joined Mia and Grace in the great room.
"Hopefully something on this next rack will work," Mia said, sounding dispirited. Like me, she could see nothing was really 'right.' I'd already decided that if there was nothing better, I'd tell Christian I'd changed my mind and not attend the gala.
Mia unzipped the garment bags, pulling out the last selection. A riot of colors, this batch offered different styles. A few I even liked the look of! Grabbing almost all of them, I shuffled into the guest room with Gail, zeroing in on a bias-cut simple silver-gray sheath dress. Almost brutal in its simplicity, when I tried it on, it fitted like a second skin yet made the most of the little curves I had.
"That's it," Gail said, her eyes lighting up. "And it will match those gray heels you have." Passing me a pair of heels from my recent shopping trip with Christian, she stood back and admired the look.
"I don't think I'll try on any more," I agreed. The dress made me feel like a princess—I didn't want to take it off. "I think I've found it," I said as I emerged from the guest room for Grace and Mia's inspection.
"Oh, Anastasia! You look just beautiful," Grace said from her position on the sofa. "I agree—that is absolutely the dress."
"No doubt about it," Mia agreed. "Those shoes are perfect with it."
"It's a masquerade ball, so you'll need a mask. I have the perfect thing. Don't worry about trying to find anything—I'll have it ready for you on Saturday at Bellevue," Grace declared.
"My gray clutch will match—I'll have that ready for you, too," Mia volunteered. "Mom normally goes to Esclava to get ready with her mother, but Grandma Adele doesn't want to go all the way into the city this year, so we've booked hairdressers and beauticians to come to Bellevue. Make sure you and Christian are there by 4:00 pm, latest, so we can all get ready together."
Knowing when not to argue, I reluctantly agreed, going back into the guest room to strip from the dress. Assuring me she'd hang it carefully in my room, and out of Christian's sight, Gail told me to re-join Grace and Mia while she packed the other gowns into their garment bags and rehung them on the racks outside the door. Feeling rather like a lamb being led to slaughter, I donned the clothes I'd been wearing, sculled the last of my white wine, and moved back out into the great room for what I was sure was going to be a Grace and Mia Grey tag-team interrogation!
I was approaching the sofa where Mia and Grace sat when the elevator pinged. All three of us looking across to the entryway, Mia put down her wineglass, squealing, "There you are! Mom and I have been here for almost an hour! Ana's found the perfect dress for the Coping Together Ball!"
"Is that so?" Christian answered Mia while looking at me. Sauntering toward me, sexy as sin, he pulled me against him, pressing his lips softly against my cheek. "I'm sure you're going to look beautiful, baby," he murmured softly enough only I could hear him. Stepping back, he addressed his mother and sister.
"I can't thank you two enough for helping Anastasia. It means a lot to me."
Christian joined us in the great room, his presence keeping the chat generic. Mia, being more than a little tipsy, kept trying to move the conversation into murky waters—headed off again and again by Christian. He eventually moved his mother and sister along by suggesting Taylor drive them home, Ryan following in Grace's vehicle. While Grace wasn't drunk, as a staunch advocate of not driving after drinking, she had already planned for her and Mia to catch a taxi home.
"I'd drive you myself, but Anastasia and I have plans for the evening," Christian explained, giving his mother their habitual half-hug before seeing them to the elevator.
"That was fun, but thank God that is over," I said with a giggle once Grace, Mia, Taylor, and Ryan descended in the elevator. "Playing dress-up for your sister should be considered cruel and unusual punishment!"
"That bad?" Christian asked with a smirk.
"Worse!" I sighed theatrically, throwing myself back on the sofa. I had had a couple of wines and was a lightweight when it came to alcohol.
"I'd like to tell you she calms down when you know her better, but we promised not to lie to one another," Christian teased.
I couldn't stop myself from letting out a decidedly unladylike snigger. "She's fine. Growing up as an only child, it's refreshing to see a sibling with such joie de vivre."
"Parles-tu français ma chérie?"
"Juste un peu."
"Have you ever been? To France?"
"No. Paris is on my bucket list, but England is my aspiration. Ray and I always planned to go there after I graduated. He didn't even really care for Europe—he just knew it was my dream, so wanted to experience it with me."
"I'm sure you'll get there," Christian replied, his voice gravelly and low.
"I will," I agreed. "I'll go there and enjoy it twice as much just for Daddy!"
"He sounds like he was a wonderful father."
"He was the best," I agreed. It had taken years, but I could now remember Ray without immediately bursting into tears. I don't think there'd ever be a time when it didn't hurt, but now the good times were the first things to spring to mind.
Christian and I were curled up together on the sofa when he kissed the top of my head softly. "This afternoon I went to see my shrink."
"Dr. Flynn, right? He sounds like an expensive charlatan!"
"You might be right," Christian replied, followed by a chuckle. "I needed to talk to him about Elena and how to tell my parents about her... He helped me with some strategies and how to break it to them. My mother, in particular, is going to be devastated. It's a big ask, but I was hoping you'd be with me when I tell them? You calm me like no one else... I'm going to need you."
"I can do that," I promised. After all the kindnesses he'd done me, never once asking for anything in return, it was the least I could do. Yet it was more than that. Christian trusted me to support him through potentially one of the most traumatic conversations of his life, I wanted to show him I recognized and reciprocated that care and trust.
"Dr. Flynn said before we have that discussion with my family, I need to be completely open with you about my involvement with Elena."
"Are you and she still...?" I asked, my voice trembling. I was coming to terms with Christian's past, but that would be beyond the pale.
"Hell no!" he spat out, sounding every bit as revolted as I felt. "That aspect of things ended when I was twenty-one. Honestly, I was over it at least a year before. Elena trained me as a Dom from twenty-one until I was twenty-three. I bought this apartment around that time, and that's when I contracted my own submissives." I could hear the shame in Christian's voice.
"Once I started GEH, I wasn't free to find my own submissives. The risk of exposure was too great. So Elena would put the word out in the community and find suitable candidates. She'd bring me files of potential women—their photos, background, and a list of their hard and soft limits. I'd make a selection, then she'd bring them to me. They'd sign an NDA before they met me, and then I'd interview them to see if we would gel."
I took a deep breath, absorbing what he'd said.
"Mrs. Lincoln was a madam?" I gasped.
"I did not see it at the time, but yes. She acted as a procurer—she found suitable, willing women for me to contract. At first, I thought it was to help me. In fact, I even reimbursed her for her time finding suitable prospects. In the past few days, I have discovered she was also charging the women for an introduction."
I raised an eyebrow in silent question.
"I have a certain reputation in the scene," he admitted, having the good grace to look a little embarrassed. "Over the years, subs came to know there was a young, rich, and not wholly unhandsome Dom who was very private and generous. The NDAs stopped former subs from disclosing my name, yet there was enough information out there for prospective subs to know to approach Elena Lincoln for an introduction."
"If your subs were sworn to secrecy, it stands to reason the person spreading that information was Mrs. Lincoln," I said almost to myself. "She profited from both sides."
"You're probably right," Christian admitted, pulling me sideways across his lap to cuddle me closer. It was something I'd noticed before—the worse Christian felt about something, the closer he'd want me as we discussed it. It didn't take a genius to figure out it came back to an inherent fear of abandonment. So, before he had to ask me, I told him he could go ahead without fear of me leaving him.
"I was so blind. Blind for so long..."
"Is that all of it?" I asked.
"Yes. I mean, I am a silent partner in her business. She doesn't pay me the whole commission my investment deserves, however, since she doesn't cost me anything, I've never pursued it."
"She's stolen from you?" I gasped, shocked that after everything Mrs. Lincoln had done to Christian, she stole from him, too.
"More than you can ever imagine," Christian said, his sigh sounding as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
My eyes sprung open at 3:00 am. At first, I couldn't place what woke me, yet I soon heard screaming from the other side of the apartment. Loud, even from this distance, the yelling found me slipping out of bed and donning a satin robe, padding down the corridor toward the great room and the corridor on the other side. The corridor that led to Christian's bedroom. The shouting stopped and loitering in the shadows, I saw Taylor, and then Gail, both in their pajamas emerge from the passageway, pausing in the great room.
"What do you think caused it?" Gail asked, her hand resting intimately on Taylor's bicep. "He hasn't had a nightmare that bad in years."
"It's hard to say. He's in such flux at the moment, it could be anything," Taylor replied.
Even I could tell Christian's bodyguard was being evasive—economical with the truth, as my father would have put it—and I could see Gail knew likewise. Yet she chose not to push it any further.
"Let's get back to bed," she voiced with a sigh. "When he doesn't sleep well, he's up early. I need to be ready."
Waiting until they moved down the hallway to the staff suite, I padded into the kitchen and got myself a bottle of water. Standing in the chill air of Gail's immaculate kitchen, I downed the bottle, putting the glass flask in the sink ready to be washed and refilled tomorrow. I was just about to return to my bed when I heard a groan, followed by what sounded like my name. Unsure, I paused until I heard it more clearly. Somewhere down the corridor to Christian's room, someone was calling out for me.
Unthinking about why Christian would say my name, I slipped across the great room, flitting on silent feet toward his room. I'd only seen it once, and even then, only from the corridor. However, I found my way there easily enough, hesitating at the doorway of the darkened room. I was close to turning back when I heard another long groan. All I could think was Christian must be in pain.
Peering around the doorway, I found the bedroom vacant. Illuminated only by a single bedside lamp, Christian's enormous bed was rumpled yet vacant. Wherever that God of a man was, it wasn't in his bedroom. Another loud groan had me tiptoeing across the sumptuous, deep carpet toward a lit door to the left. Also ajar, I was on the threshold when I appreciated it was Christian's bathroom. The sound of running water confirmed my immediate suspicions. He was taking a shower.
Turning to take my leave, I stopped when I heard another loud groan. Worried for Christian's wellbeing, I crept back to the doorway, standing out of the light as I carefully peered within. There, in the shower, Christian stood naked under the abundant spray. The steam and the shower screen partially concealed his modesty, yet not enough to disguise what he was doing.
Unable to look away, my eyes witnessed Christian leaning with his forehead against the tile. His fist wrapped around his cock, Christian's eyes were closed as he jerked off, groaning as he worked his hand up and down his hardened shaft. As I watched, I could see his machinations become more frantic. His actions less coordinated. I was fascinated, wondering how much longer he could last, when he stopped.
"Fuck! Ana!" he grunted, slumping against the wall as he blew his seed across the shower screen. His cum running in a pale stream down the pristine glass surface, with his eyes still closed, Christian whispered my name again.