Fifty Shades Trilogy 02 - Fifty Shades Darker

by the scale of the marquee.
    “I think about three hundred. You’ll have to ask my mother.” He smiles down at me, and maybe it’s because I can only see his smile that lights up his face, but my inner goddess swoons.
    “Christian!”
    A young woman appears out of the throng and throws her arms around his neck, and immediately I know it’s Mia. She’s dressed in a sleek, pale pink, full-length chiffon gown with a stunning, delicately detailed Venetian mask to match. She looks amazing. And for a moment, I have never felt so grateful for the dress Christian has given me.
    “Ana! Oh, darling, you look gorgeous!” She gives me a quick hug. “You must come and meet my friends. None of them can believe that Christian finally has a girlfriend.”  
    I shoot a quick panicked glance at Christian, who shrugs in a resigned I-know-she’s-impossible-I-had-to-live-with-her-for-years way, and let Mia lead me over to a group of four young women, all expensively attired and impeccably groomed.
    Mia makes hasty introductions. Three of them are sweet and kind, but Lily, I think her name is, regards me sourly from beneath her red mask.
    “Of course we all thought Christian was gay,” she says snidely, concealing her rancor with a large, fake smile.
    Mia pouts at her.
    “Lily, behave yourself. It’s obvious he has excellent taste in women. He was waiting for the right one to come along, and it wasn’t you!”
    Lily blushes the same color as her mask, as do I. Could this be any more uncomfortable?
    “Ladies, if I could claim my date back, please?” Snaking his arm around my waist, Christian pulls me to his side. All four women flush, grin and fidget, his dazzling smile doing what it always does. Mia glances at me and rolls her eyes, and I have to laugh.
    “Lovely to meet you,” I say as he drags me away.
    “Thank you,” I mouth at Christian when we’re some distance away.
    “I saw that Lily was with Mia. She is one nasty piece of work.”
    “She likes you,” I mutter dryly.
    He shudders. “Well, the feeling is not mutual. Come, let me introduce you to some people.”
    I spend the next half hour in a whirlwind of introductions. I meet two Hollywood actors, two more CEOs, and several eminent physicians. Holy shit . . . there is no way I am going to remember everyone’s name.  
    Christian keeps me close at his side, and I’m grateful. Frankly, the wealth, the glamour, and the sheer lavish scale of the event intimidates me. I have never been to anything like this in my life.
    The white-suited servers move effortlessly through the growing crowd of guests with bottles of champagne, topping off my glass with worrying regularity. I must not drink too much. I must not drink too much, I repeat to myself, but I’m beginning to feel light-headed, and I don’t know if it’s the champagne, the charged atmosphere of mystery and excitement created by the masks, or the secret silver balls. The dull ache below my waist is becoming impossible to ignore.
    “So you work at SIP?” asks a balding gentleman in a half-bear—or is it a dog?—mask. “Heard rumors of a hostile takeover.”
    I flush. There is a hostile takeover from a man who has more money than sense and is a stalker par excellence .
    “I’m just a lowly assistant, Mr. Eccles. I wouldn’t know 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 chattering crowd to the large marquee.
    The interior is stunning. Three enormous, shallow chandeliers throw rainbow-colored sparkles over the ivory silk lining of the ceiling and walls. There must be at least thirty tables, and they remind me of the private dining room at the Heathman—crystal glasses, crisp white linen covering the tables and chairs, and in the center, an exquisite display of pale pink peonies gathered around a silver candelabra. Wrapped in gossamer silk beside it is a basket of goodies.
    Christian consults the seating plan and leads me to a table in the center. Mia and Grace are already in situ, deep in conversation with a young man I don’t know. Grace is wearing a shimmering mint green gown with a Venetian mask to match. She looks radiant, not stressed at all, and she greets me warmly.
    “Ana, how delightful to see you again! And looking so beautiful,