Part II 10

I line up on the white ball and with a swift clean stroke,hit the center ball of the triangle square on with such forcethat a striped ball spins and plunges into the top rightpocket. I’ve scattered the rest of the balls.“I choose stripes,” I say innocently, smiling coyly atChristian. His mouth twists in amusement.“Be my guest,” he says politely.I proceed to pocket the next three balls in quicksuccession. Inside, I’m dancing. At this moment, I am sograteful to José for teaching me to play pool and play itwell. Christian watches impassively, giving nothing away,but his amusement seems to ebb. I miss the green stripe bya hairsbreadth.“You know, Anastasia, I could stand here and watchyou leaning and stretching across this billiard table all day,”he says appreciatively.he says appreciatively.I flush. Thank hea一vens I am wearing my jeans. Hesmirks. He’s trying to put me off my game, the bastard. Hepulls his cream sweater over his head, tosses it onto theback of a chair, and grins at me, as he saunters over totake his first shot.He bends low over the table. My mouth goes dry. Oh,I see what he means. Christian in tight jeans and white Tshirt,bending, like that . . . is something to behold. I quitelose my train of thought. He sinks four solids rapidly, thenfouls by sinking the white.“A very elementary mistake, Mr. Grey,” I tease.He smirks. “Ah, Miss Steele, I am but a foolish mortal.Your go, I believe.” He wa一ves at the table.“You’re not trying to lose are you?”“Oh no. For what I ha一ve in mind as the prize, I want towin, Anastasia.” He shrugs casually. “But then, I alwayswant to win.”I narrow my eyes at him. Right then . . . I’m so gladI’m wearing my blue blouse, which is pleasingly low-cut. II’m wearing my blue blouse, which is pleasingly low-cut. Istalk around the table, bending low at every a一vailableopportunity—giving Christian an eyeful of my behind andmy clea一vage whenever I can. Two can play at that game. Iglance at him.“I know what you’re doing,” he whispers, his eyesdark.I tilt my head coquettishly to one side, gently fondlingmy cue, running my hand up and down it slowly. “Oh. I amjust deciding where to take my next shot,” I murmurdistractedly.Leaning across, I hit the orange stripe into a betterposition. I then stand directly in front of Christian and takethe rest from underneath the table. I line up my next shot,leaning right over the table. I hear Christian’s sharp intakeof breath, and of course, I miss. Shit.He comes to stand behind me while I am still bent overthe table and places his hand on my backside. Hmm . . .“Are you wa一ving this around to taunt me, MissSteele?” And he smacks me, hard.I gasp. “Yes,” I mutter, because it’s true.“Be careful what you wish for, baby.”I rub my behind as he wanders to the other end of thetable, leans over, and takes his shot. Jeez, I could look athim all day. He hits the red ball, and it shoots into the leftside pocket. He aims for the yellow, top right, and it justmisses. I grin.“Red Room here we come,” I taunt him.He merely raises an eyebrow and directs me tocontinue. I make quick work of the green stripe and bysome fluke, manage to knock in the final orange stripe.“Name your pocket,” Christian murmurs, and it’s as ifhe’s talking about something else, something dark andrude.“Top left-hand.” I take aim over the black, hit it, butmiss. It skirts wide. Damn.Christian smiles a wicked grin as he leans over thetable and makes short work of the two remaining solids. Iam practically panting, watching him, his lithe bodystretching over the table. He stands and chalks his cue, hisstretching over the table. He stands and chalks his cue, hiseyes burning into me.“If I win . . .”Oh yes?“I am going to spank you, then fuck you over thisbilliard table.”Holy shit. Every single muscle south of my na一velclenches hard.“Top right,” he murmurs, pointing to the black, andbends to take the shot.de Saint-Exupéry, Antoine. Night Flight. Translated by Stuart Gilbert.New Jersey: Prentice Hall, June 1932. (First published in 1931 under theoriginal title of Vol de nuit.)With easy grace, Christian taps the white ball so that itglides across the table, kisses the black and oh-so-slowlythe black rolls, teeters on the edge, and finally drops intothe top right pocket of the billiard table.Damn.He stands, and his mouth twists in a triumphant I-soown-you-Steele smile. Putting down his cue, he saunterscasually toward me, all tousled hair, jeans, and white Tshirt.He doesn’t look like a CEO—he looks like a badboy from the wrong side of town. Holy cow, he’s sofucking sexy.“You’re not going to be a sore loser, are you?” hemurmurs, barely containing his grin.“Depends how hard you spank me,” I whisper, holdingon to my cue for support. He takes my cue and puts it toone side, hooks his finger into the top of my shirt, and pullsme toward him.“Well, let’s count your misdemeanors, Miss Steele.”He counts on his long fingers. “One, making me jealous ofmy own staff. Two, arguing with me about working. Andthree, wa一ving your delectable derriere at me for the lasttwenty minutes.”His eyes glow a soft gray with excitement, and leaningdown, he rubs his nose against mine. “I want you to takeyour jeans and this very fetching shirt off. Now.” He plantsa feather-soft kiss on my lips, wanders nonchalantly overto the door, and locks it.Oh my.When he turns and gazes at me, his eyes are burning. Istand paralyzed like a complete zombie, my heartpounding, my blood pumping, not actually able to move amuscle. In my mind, all I can think is—this is for him—the thought repeating like a mantra over and over again.“Clothes, Anastasia. You appear to still be wearingthem. Take them off—or I will do it for you.”“You do it.” I finally find my voice, and it sounds lowand heated. Christian grins.“Oh, Miss Steele. It’s a dirty job, but I think I can riseto the challenge.”“You normally rise to most challenges, Mr. Grey.” Iraise an eyebrow at him, and he smirks.“Why, Miss Steele, whatever do you mean?” On hisway over to me, he pauses at the small desk built into oneof the bookshelves. Reaching over, he picks up a twelveinchPerspex ruler. He holds each end and flexes it, hiseyes not lea一ving mine.Holy shit—his weapon of choice. My mouth goesdry.dry.Suddenly, I’m hot and bothered and damp in all theright places. Only Christian could turn me on with just alook and the flex of a ruler. He slips it into the back pocketof his jeans and ambles toward me, eyes dark and full ofpromise. Without saying a word, he drops to his knees infront of me and starts to undo my laces, quickly andefficiently, dragging both my Converse and socks off. Ilean on the side of the billiard table so I don’t fall. Gazingdown at him as he undoes my laces, I marvel at the depthof feeling that I ha一ve for this beautiful flawed man. I lovehim.He grabs my hips, slips his fingers into the waistband ofmy jeans, and undoes the button and zipper. He peers upthrough his long lashes, grinning his most salacious grin ashe slowly peels my jeans off. I step out of them, glad thatI’m wearing these pretty, pretty panties, and he grasps theback of my legs and runs his nose along the apex of mythighs. I practically melt.“I want to be quite rough with you, Ana. You’ll ha一ve totell me to stop if it’s too much,” he breathes.Oh my. He kisses me . . . there. I moan softly.“Safe word?” I murmur.“No, no safe word, just tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.Understand?” He kisses me again, nuzzling me. Oh, thatfeels good. He stands, his stare intense. “Answer me,” heorders his voice velvet soft.“Yes, yes, I understand.” I’m puzzled by his insistence.“You’ve been dropping hints and giving me mixedsignals all day, Anastasia,” he says. “You said you weresignals all day, Anastasia,” he says. “You said you wereworried I’d lost my edge. I’m not sure what you meant bythat, and I don’t know how serious you were, but we aregoing to find out. I don’t want to go back into theplayroom yet, so we can try this now, but if you don’t likeit, you must promise to tell me.” A burning intensity born ofhis anxiety replaces his earlier cockiness.Whoa, please don’t be anxious, Christian. “I’ll tellyou. No safe word,” I reiterate to reassure him.“We’re lovers, Anastasia. Lovers don’t need safewords.” He frowns. “Do they?”“I guess not,” I murmur. Jeez—how do I know? “Ipromise.”He searches my face for any clue that I might lack thecourage of my convictions, and I’m nervous but excited,too. I’m much happier to do this, knowing that he lovesme. It’s very simple to me, and right now, I don’t want tooverthink it.A slow smile stretches across his face, and he starts tounbutton my shirt, his deft fingers making short work of it,though he doesn’t take it off. He leans over and picks upthe cue.Oh fuck, what’s he going to do with that ? A frissonof fear runs through me.“You play well, Miss Steele. I must say I’m surprised.Why don’t you sink the black?”My fear forgotten, I pout, wondering why the hell heshould be surprised—sexy, arrogant bastard. My innergoddess is limbering up in the background, doing her floorexercises—a great fat smile on her face.exercises—a great fat smile on her face.I position the white ball. Christian strolls back aroundthe table and stands right behind me as I lean over to takemy shot. He places his hand on my right thigh and runs hisfingers up and down my leg, up to my behind and backagain, lightly stroking me.“I am going to miss if you keep doing that,” I whisper,closing my eyes and relishing the feel of his hands on me.“I don’t care if you hit or miss, baby. I just wanted tosee you like this—partially dressed, stretched out on mybilliard table. Do you ha一ve any idea how hot you look atthe moment?”I flush, and my inner goddess grabs a rose between herteeth and starts to tango. Taking a deep breath, I try toignore him and line up my shot. It’s impossible. Hecaresses my behind, over and over again.“Top left,” I murmur, then hit the white ball. He smacksme hard, squarely on my backside.It’s so unexpected, I yelp. The white hits the black,which bounces off the cushion wide of the pocket.Christian caresses my behind again.“Oh, I think you need to try that again,” he whispers.“You should concentrate, Anastasia.”I am panting now, excited by this game. He strolls tothe end of the table, sets up the black ball again, then runsthe white ball back down to me. He looks so carnal, darkeyed with a lascivious smile. How could I ever resist thisman? I catch the ball and line it up, ready to strike again.“Uh-uh,” he admonishes. “Just wait.” Oh, he just lovesprolonging the agony. He wanders back and stands behindprolonging the agony. He wanders back and stands behindme again. I close my eyes once more as he strokes my leftthigh this time then fondles my backside again.“Take aim,” he breathes.I can’t help my moan as desire twists and turns insideme. And I try, really try, to think about where I should hitthe black with the white. I shift slightly to my right, and hefollows me. I bend over the table once more. Using everylast vestige of inner strength—which has diminishedconsiderably since I know what will happen once I strikethe white ball—I take aim and hit the white again. Christiansmacks me once more, hard.Ow! I miss again. “Oh no!” I groan.“Once more, baby. And if you miss this time, I’m reallygoing to let you ha一ve it.”What? Ha一ve what?He sets up the black ball once more and walks,achingly slow, back to me until he’s standing behind me,caressing my backside once more.“You can do it,” he coaxes.Oh—not when you’re distracting me like this. Ipush my behind back against his hand, and he smacks melightly.“Eager, Miss Steele?” he murmurs.Yes. I want you.“Well, let’s get rid of these.” He gently slides mypanties down my thighs and off. I can’t see what he doeswith them, but he lea一ves me feeling exposed as he plants asoft kiss on each cheek.“Take the shot, baby.”“Take the shot, baby.”I want to whimper, this is so not going to happen. Iknow I am going to miss. I line up the white, hit it, and inmy impatience, miss the black completely. I wait for theblow—but it doesn’t come. Instead he leans right over me,flattening me against the table, takes the cue out of myhand and rolls it to the side cushion. I can feel him, hard,against my backside.“You missed,” he says softly in my ear. My cheek ispressed against the baize. “Put your hands flat on thetable.”I do as he says.“Good. I’m going to spank you now and next time,maybe you won’t.” He shifts so he’s standing to my leftside, his erection against my hip.I groan and my heart leaps into my mouth. My breathcomes in short pants and a hot, hea一vy excitement coursesthrough my veins. Gently, he caresses my behind and curlshis other hand around the nape of my neck, his fingersfisting in my hair, his elbow at my back, holding me down.I am completely helpless.“Open your legs,” he murmurs and for a moment, Ihesitate. And he smacks me hard—with the ruler! Thenoise is harsher than the sting, and it takes me by surprise.I gasp, and he hits me again.“Legs,” he orders. I open my legs, panting. The rulerstrikes again. Ow—it stings, but its crack across my skinsounds worse than it feels.I close my eyes and absorb the pain. It’s not too bad,and Christian’s breathing becomes harsher. He hits meand Christian’s breathing becomes harsher. He hits meagain and again, and I moan. I am not sure how manymore strokes I can bear—but hearing him, knowing howturned on he is, feeds my arousal and my willingness tocontinue. I am crossing to the dark side, a place in mypsyche I don’t know well but ha一ve visited before in theplayroom—with the Tallis. The ruler strikes once more,and I moan loudly, and Christian groans in response. Hehits me again—and again . . . and once more . . . harderthis time—and I wince.“Stop.” The word is out of my mouth before I’m evenaware that I’ve said it. Christian drops the rulerimmediately and releases me.“Enough?” he whispers.“Yes.”“I want to fuck you now,” he says, his voice strained.“Yes,” I murmur with longing. He undoes his fly, as Ilie panting on the table, knowing that he’s going to berough.I marvel once more at how I ha一ve managed—and yes,enjoyed— what he’s done to me up to this point. It’s sodark but so him.He eases two fingers inside me and moves them in acircular motion. The feeling is exquisite. Closing my eyes, Irevel in the sensation. I hear the telltale rip of foil, then he’sstanding behind me, between my legs, pushing them wider.Slowly he sinks into me, filling me. I hear his groan ofpure pleasure, and it stirs my soul. He grasps my hipsfirmly, eases out of me again, and this time slams back intome, causing me to cry out. He stills for a moment.“Again?” he asks softly.“Yes . . . I’m fine. Lose yourself . . . take me withyou,” I murmur breathlessly.He moans low in his throat, eases out of me oncemore, then slams into me, and repeats this over and overslowly, deliberately—a punishing, brutal, hea一venly rhythm.Oh fucking my . . . My insides begin to quicken. Hefeels it, too, and increases the rhythm, pushing me, higher,harder, faster—and I surrender, exploding around him—adraining, soul-grabbing orgasm that lea一ves me spent andexhausted.I’m vaguely aware that Christian, too, is letting go,calling my name, his fingers digging into my hips, and thenhe stills and collapses on me. We sink to the floor, and hecradles me in his arms.“Thank you, baby,” he breathes, covering my upturnedface in soft feather-light kisses. I open my eyes and gazeup at him, and he wraps his arms tighter around me.“Your cheek is pink from the baize,” he murmurs,rubbing my face tenderly. “How was that?” His eyes arewide and cautious.“Teeth-clenchingly good,” I mutter. “I like it rough,Christian, and I like it gentle, too. I like that it’s with you.”He closes his eyes and hugs me even tighter.Jeez, I’m tired.“You never fail, Ana. You are beautiful, bright,challenging, fun, sexy, and I thank divine providence everyday that it was you that came to interview me and notKatherine Ka一vanagh.” He kisses my hair. I smile and yawnagainst his chest. “I’m wearing you out,” he continues.“Come. Bath, then bed.”We are both in Christian’s bath, facing each other chindeepin foam, the sweet scent of jasmine enveloping us.Christian is massaging my feet, one at a time. It feels sogood it should be illegal.“Can I ask you something?” I murmur.“Of course. Anything, Ana, you know that.”I take a deep breath and sit up, flinching only slightly.“Tomorrow—when I go to work—can Sawyer justdeliver me to the front door of the office then pick me upat the end of the day? Please, Christian. Please,” I plead.His hands still as his brow creases. “I thought weagreed,” he grumbles.“Please,” I beg.“What about lunchtime?”“I’ll make myself something to take from here so Idon’t ha一ve to go out, please.”He kisses my instep. “I find it very difficult to say no toyou,” he mutters as if he senses this is a failing on his part.“You won’t go out?”“No.”“Okay.”I beam at him. “Thank you.” I lean up onto my knees,sloshing water everywhere, and kiss him.“You’re most welcome, Miss Steele. How’s your“You’re most welcome, Miss Steele. How’s yourbehind?”“Sore. But not too bad. The water is soothing.”“I’m glad you told me to stop,” he says, gazing at me.“So is my behind.”He grins.I stretch out in bed, so tired. It’s only ten thirty, but it feelslike three in the morning. This has to be one of the mostexhausting weekends of my life.“Didn’t Ms. Acton provide any nightwear?” Christianasks, his voice laced with disapproval as he stares down atme.“I ha一ve no idea. I like wearing your T-shirts,” I mumblesleepily.His face softens, and he leans over and kisses myforehead.“I need to work. But I don’t want to lea一ve you alone.Can I use your laptop to log in to the office? Will I disturbyou if I work from here?”“S’not my laptop.” I drift.The alarm clicks on, startling me awake with the trafficnews. Christian is still asleep beside me. Rubbing my eyes,I glance at the clock. Six thirty—too early.It’s raining outside for the first time in ages, and thelight is muted and mellow. I’m cozy and comfortable in thisvast modern monolith with Christian at my side. I stretchvast modern monolith with Christian at my side. I stretchand turn to the delicious man beside me. His eyes springopen and he blinks sleepily.“Good morning.” I smile and caress his face, leaningdown to kiss him.“Good morning, baby. I usually wake before the alarmgoes off,” he murmurs in wonder.“It’s set so early.”“That it is, Miss Steele.” Christian grins. “I ha一ve to getup.” He kisses me, and then he’s up and out of bed. I flopback against the pillows. Wow, waking up on a schoolday next to Christian Grey. How did this all happen? Iclose my eyes and doze.“Come on, sleepyhead, get up.” Christian leans overme. He’s sha一ved, clean, fresh—Hmm, he smells sogood—in a crisp white shirt and black suit, no tie—theCEO is back. Holy Moses, he looks good like this, too.“What?” he asks.“I wish you’d come back to bed.”His lips part, surprised by my come-on, and he smilesalmost shyly. “You are insatiable, Miss Steele. As much asthat idea appeals, I ha一ve an eight thirty meeting, so I ha一veto go shortly.”Oh, I’ve slept for another hour or so. Shit. I leap outof bed, much to Christian’s amusement.I shower and dress quickly, wearing the clothes I set outyesterday: a fitted, gray pencil skirt; pale-gray silk shirt;and high-heeled black pumps, all care of my newand high-heeled black pumps, all care of my newwardrobe. I brush my hair and carefully put it up, thenwander out to the great room, not really knowing what toexpect. How am I going to get to work?Christian is sipping coffee at the breakfast bar. Mrs.Jones is in the kitchen making pancakes and bacon.“You look lovely,” Christian murmurs. Wrapping anarm around me, he kisses me under my ear. Out of thecorner of my eye, I catch Mrs. Jones’s smile. I flush.“Good morning, Miss Steele,” she says as she placespancakes and bacon in front of me.“Oh, thank you. Good morning,” I mumble. Jeez—Icould get used to this.“Mr. Grey says you’d like to take lunch with you towork. What would you like to eat?”I glance at Christian, who is trying very hard not tosmirk. I narrow my eyes at him.“A sandwich . . . salad. I really don’t mind.” I beam atMrs. Jones.“I’ll rustle up a packed lunch for you, ma’am.”“Please, Mrs. Jones, call me Ana.”“Ana.” She smiles and turns to make me tea.Wow . . . this is so cool.I turn and cock my head at Christian, challenging him—go on, accuse me of flirting with Mrs. Jones.“I ha一ve to go, baby. Taylor will come back and dropyou at work with Sawyer.”“Only to the door.”“Yes. Only to the door.” Christian rolls his eyes. “Becareful, though.”I glance around and spy Taylor standing in theentranceway. Christian stands and kisses me, grasping mychin.“Laters, baby.”“Ha一ve a good day at the office, dear,” I call after him.He turns and flashes me his beautiful smile then he’s gone.Mrs. Jones hands me a cup of tea, and suddenly I feelawkward with just the two of us here.“How long ha一ve you worked for Christian?” I ask,thinking I ought to make some kind of conversation.“Four years or so,” she says pleasantly, as she setsabout making my packed lunch.“You know, I can do that,” I mutter, embarrassed thatshe should be doing this for me.“You eat your breakfast, Ana. This is what I do. Ienjoy it. It’s nice to look after someone other than Mr.Taylor and Mr. Grey.” She smiles very sweetly at me.My cheeks pink with pleasure, and I want to bombardthis woman with questions. She must know so much aboutFifty, and although her manner is warm and friendly, it’salso very professional. I know I’ll only embarrass both ofus if I start quizzing her, so I finish my breakfast in areasonably comfortable silence, punctuated only by herquestions on my food preferences for lunch.Twenty-five minutes later Sawyer appears at theentrance to the great room. I ha一ve brushed my teeth, andI’m waiting to go. Clutching my brown paper lunch bag—Ican’t even remember my mom doing this for me—Sawyerand I head to the first floor via the elevator. He’s verytaciturn, too, giving nothing away. Taylor is waiting in theAudi, and I climb into the rear passenger seat whenSawyer opens the door.“Good morning, Taylor,” I say brightly.“Miss Steele.” He smiles.“Taylor, I’m sorry about yesterday and myinappropriate remarks. I hope I didn’t get you intotrouble.”Taylor frowns in bemusement at me from the rearviewmirror as he pulls out into the Seattle traffic.“Miss Steele, I’m rarely in trouble,” he saysreassuringly.Oh good. Maybe Christian didn’t tell him off. Justme, then, I think sourly.“I’m glad to hear it, Taylor.” I smile.Jack gazes at me, assessing my appearance, as I make myway to my desk.“Morning, Ana. Good weekend?”“Yes, thanks. You?”“It was good. Get settled in—I ha一ve work for you todo.”I nod and sit down at my computer. It seems like yearssince I was at work. I switch on my computer and fire upmy e-mail program—and of course there’s an e-mail fromChristian.From: Christian GreySubject: BossDate: June 13, 2011 08:24To: Anastasia SteeleGood morning, Miss SteeleI just wanted to say thank you for a wonderful weekend in spite ofall the drama.I hope you never lea一ve, ever.And just to remind you that the news of SIP is embargoed for fourweeks.Delete this e-mail as soon as you’ve read it.YoursChristian Grey,CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc. & Your boss’s boss’s boss.Hope I never lea一ve? Does he want me to move in? HolyMoses . . . I barely know the man. I press delete.From: Anastasia SteeleSubject: BossyDate: June 13, 2011: 09:03To: Christian GreyTo: Christian GreyDear Mr. GreyAre you asking me to move in with you? And of course, Iremembered that the evidence of your epic stalking capabilities isembargoed for another four weeks. Do I make a check out toCoping Together and send to your dad? Please don’t delete thise-mail. Please respond to it.ILY xxxAnastasia SteeleAssistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP“Ana!” Jack makes me jump.“Yes,” I flush, and Jack frowns at me.“Everything okay?”“Sure.” I scramble up and take my notebook into hisoffice.“Good. As you probably remember, I’m going to thatCommissioning Fiction Symposium in New York onThursday. I ha一ve tickets and reservations, but I’d like youto come with me.”“To New York?”“Yes. We’ll need to go Wednesday and stayovernight. I think you’ll find it a very educationalexperience.” His eyes darken as he says this, but his smileis polite. “Would you make the necessary tra一velarrangements? And book an additional room at the hotelwhere I am staying? I think Sabrina, my previous PA, leftwhere I am staying? I think Sabrina, my previous PA, leftall the details handy somewhere.”“Okay.” I smile wanly at Jack.Crap. I wander back to my desk. This is not going togo down well with Fifty—but the fact is, I want to go. Itsounds like a real opportunity, and I’m sure I can keepJack at arm’s length if that’s his ulterior motive. Back atmy desk there’s a response from Christian.From: Christian GreySubject: Me, Bossy?Date: June 13, 2011 09:07To: Anastasia SteeleYes. Please.Christian Grey,CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.Jeez . . . he does want me to move in. Oh, Christian—it’stoo soon. I put my head in my hands to try and recover mywits. This is all I need after my extraordinary weekend. Iha一ven’t had a moment to myself to think through andunderstand all that I ha一ve experienced and discoveredthese last two days.From: Anastasia SteeleSubject: FlynnismsDate: June 13, 2011: 09:20To: Christian GreyChristianWhat happened to walking before we run?Can we talk about this tonight, please?I’ve been asked to go to a conference in New York on Thursday.It means an overnight stay on Wednesday.Just thought you should know.A xAnastasia SteeleAssistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIPFrom: Christian GreySubject: WHAT?Date: June 13, 2011 09:21To: Anastasia SteeleYes. Let’s talk this evening.Are you going on your own?Christian GreyCEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.From: Anastasia SteeleSubject: No Bold Shouty Capitals on a Monday Morning!Date: June 13, 2011: 09:30To: Christian GreyCan we talk about this tonight?A xAnastasia SteeleAssistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIPFrom: Christian GreySubject: You Ha一ven’t Seen Shouty Yet.Date: June 13, 2011 09:35To: Anastasia SteeleTell me.If it’s with the sleazeball you work with, then the answer is no,over my dead body.Christian GreyCEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.My heart sinks. Shit—it’s like he’s my dad.From: Anastasia SteeleSubject: No YOU ha一ven’t seen shouty yet.Date: June 13, 2011 09:46To: Christian GreyYes. It is with Jack.I want to go. It’s an exciting opportunity for me.And I ha一ve never been to New York.Don’t get your knickers in a twist.Anastasia SteeleAssistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIPFrom: Christian GreySubject: No YOU ha一ven’t seen shouty yet.Date: June 13, 2011 09:50To: Anastasia SteeleAnastasiaIt’s not my fucking knickers I am worried about.The answer is NO.Christian GreyChristian GreyCEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.“No!” I shout at my computer, causing the entire office tocome to a standstill and stare at me. Jack peers out fromhis office.“Everything all right, Ana?”“Yes. Sorry,” I mutter. “I er . . . just didn’t sa一ve adocument.” I am scarlet with embarrassment. He smiles atme but with a puzzled expression. I take several deepbreaths and quickly type a response. I am so mad.From: Anastasia SteeleSubject: Fifty ShadesDate: June 13, 2011 09:55To: Christian GreyChristianYou need to get a grip.I am NOT going to sleep with Jack—not for all the tea in China.I LOVE you. That’s what happens when people love each other.They TRUST each other.I don’t think you are going to SLEEP WITH, SPANK, FUCK, orWHIP anyone else. I ha一ve FAITH and TRUST in you.Please extend the same COURTESY to me.AnaAnastasia SteeleAssistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIPI sit waiting for his response. Nothing arrives. I call theairline and book a ticket for myself, ensuring I am on thesame flight as Jack. I hear the ping of new mail.From: Lincoln, ElenaSubject: Lunch DateDate: June 13, 2011 10:15To: Anastasia SteeleDear AnastasiaI would really like to ha一ve lunch with you. I think we got off on thewrong foot, and I’d like to make that right. Are you free sometimethis week?Elena LincolnHoly crap—not Mrs. Robinson! How the hell did she findout my e-mail address? I put my head in my hands. Canthis day get any worse?My phone rings and wearily I lift my head from myhands and answer, glancing at the clock. It is only tenhands and answer, glancing at the clock. It is only tentwenty, and already I wish I hadn’t left Christian’s bed.“Jack Hyde’s office, Ana Steele speaking.”An achingly familiar voice snarls at me, “Will youplease delete the last e-mail you sent me and try to be alittle more circumspect in the language you use in yourwork e-mail? I told you, the system is monitored. I shallendea一vor to do some damage limitation from here.” Hehangs up.Holy fuck . . . I sit staring at the phone. Christian hungup on me. That man is stomping all over my fledglingcareer, and he hangs up on me? I glare at the receiver, andif it wasn’t completely inanimate, I know it would shrivel inhorror under my withering stare.I open my e-mails and delete the one I sent him. It’snot that bad. I just mention spanking and well, whipping.Jeez, if he’s so ashamed of it, he damn well shouldn’t do it.I pick up my Blackberry and call his mobile.“What?” he snaps.“I am going to New York whether you like it or not,” Ihiss.“Don’t count—”I hang up, cutting him off mid-sentence. Adrenaline iscoursing through my body. There—that told him. I am somad.I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself.Closing my eyes, I imagine that I am in my happy place.Hmm . . . a boat cabin with Christian. I shake the imageoff as I am too mad at Fifty right now for him to beanywhere near my happy place.anywhere near my happy place.Opening my eyes, I calmly reach for my notebook andcarefully run through my to do list. I take a long, deepbreath, my equilibrium restored.“Ana!” Jack shouts, startling me. “Don’t book thatflight!”“Oh, too late. I’ve done it,” I reply as he strides out ofhis office over to me. He looks mad.“Look, there’s something going on. For some reason,suddenly, all tra一vel and hotel expenses for staff ha一ve to beapproved by senior management. This has come right fromthe top. I am going up to see old Roach. Apparently, amoratorium on all spending has just been implemented. Idon’t understand it.” Jack pinches the bridge of his noseand closes his eyes.Most of the blood drains from my face and knots formin my stomach. Fifty!“Take my calls. I’ll go see what Roach has to say.” Hewinks at me and strides off to see his boss—not the boss’sboss.Damn it. Christian Grey . . . My blood starts to boilagain.From: Anastasia SteeleSubject: What ha一ve you done?Date: June 13, 2011 10:43To: Christian GreyPlease tell me you won’t interfere with my work.I really want to go to this conference.I shouldn’t ha一ve to ask you.I ha一ve deleted the offending e-mail.Anastasia SteeleAssistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIPFrom: Christian GreySubject: What ha一ve you done?Date: June 13, 2011 10:46To: Anastasia SteeleI am just protecting what is mine.The e-mail that you so rashly sent is wiped from the SIP servernow, as are my e-mails to you.Incidentally, I trust you implicitly. It’s him I don’t trust.Christian GreyCEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.I check to see if I still ha一ve his e-mails, and they ha一vedisappeared. This man’s influence knows no bounds. Howdoes he do this? Who does he know that can stealthilydelve into the depths of SIP’s servers and remove emails?I am so out of my league here.mails? I am so out of my league here.From: Anastasia SteeleSubject: Grown UpDate: June 13, 2011 10:43To: Christian GreyChristianI don’t need protecting from my own boss.He may make a pass at me, but I shall say no.You cannot interfere. It’s wrong and controlling on so manylevels.Anastasia SteeleAssistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIPFrom: Christian GreySubject: The Answer is NODate: June 13, 2011 10.50To: Anastasia SteeleAnaI ha一ve seen how “effective” you are at fighting off unwantedattention. I remember that’s how I had the pleasure of spendingmy first night with you. At least the photographer has feelings foryou. The sleazeball, on the other hand, does not. He is a serialphilanderer, and he will try to seduce you. Ask him whathappened to his previous PA and the one before that.I don’t want to fight about this.If you want to go to New York, I’ll take you. We can go thisweekend. I ha一ve an apartment there.Christian GreyCEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.Oh, Christian! That’s not the point. He’s so damnfrustrating. And of course he has an apartment there.Where else does he own property? Trust him to bring upJosé. Will I ever live that down? I was drunk, for hea一ven’ssake. I wouldn’t get drunk with Jack.I shake my head at the screen, but figure I cannotcontinue to argue with him over e-mail. I shall ha一ve to bidemy time until this evening. I check the clock. Jack is stillnot back from his meeting with Jerry, and I need to dealwith Elena. I read her e-mail again and decide that the bestway to handle it is to send it to Christian. Let himconcentrate on her rather than me.From: Anastasia SteeleSubject: FW Lunch date or Irritating BaggageDate: June 13, 2011 11:15To: Christian GreyChristianWhile you ha一ve been busy interfering in my career and sa一vingyour ass from my careless missives, I received the following e-mailfrom Mrs. Lincoln. I really don’t want to meet with her—even if Idid, I am not allowed to lea一ve this building. How she got hold ofmy e-mail address, I don’t know. What would you suggest I do?Her e-mail is below:Dear Anastasia, I would really like to ha一ve lunch with you. Ithink we got off on the wrong foot, and I’d like to make thatright. Are you free sometime this week?Elena LincolnAnastasia SteeleAssistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIPFrom: Christian GreySubject: Irritating BaggageDate: June 13, 2011 11:23To: Anastasia SteeleDon’t be mad at me. I ha一ve your best interests at heart.If anything happened to you, I would never forgive myself.I’ll deal with Mrs. Lincoln.Christian GreyCEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.From: Anastasia SteeleSubject: LatersDate: June 13, 2011: 11:32To: Christian GreyCan we please discuss this tonight?I am trying to work, and your continued interference is verydistracting.Anastasia SteeleAssistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIPJack returns after midday and tells me that New York isoff for me though he is still going and there’s nothing hecan do to change senior management policy. He stridesinto his office, slamming the door, obviously furious. Whyis he so angry?Deep down, I know his intentions are less thanhonorable, but I am sure I can deal with him, and I wonderwhat Christian knows about Jack’s previous PAs. I parkthese thoughts and continue with some work, but resolveto try to make Christian change his mind, though theprospects are bleak.prospects are bleak.At one o’clock, Jack pokes his head out of the officedoor.“Ana, please could you go and get me some lunch?”“Sure. What would you like?”“Pastrami on rye, hold the mustard. I’ll give you themoney when you’re back.”“Anything to drink?”“Coke, please. Thanks, Ana.” He heads back into hisoffice as I reach for my purse.Crap. I promised Christian I wouldn’t go out. I sigh.He’ll never know, and I’ll be quick.Claire from reception offers me her umbrella since it isstill pouring with rain. As I head out of the front doors, Ipull my jacket around me and take a furtive glance in bothdirections from beneath the overlarge golf umbrella.Nothing seems amiss. There’s no sign of Ghost Girl.I march briskly, and I hope inconspicuously, down theblock to the deli. However, the closer I get to the deli, themore I ha一ve a creepy sense that I am being watched, and Idon’t know if it’s my heightened feeling of paranoia or areality. Shit. I hope it’s not Leila with a gun.It’s just your imagination, my subconscious snaps.Who the hell would want to shoot you?Within fifteen minutes, I am back—safe, sound butrelieved. I think Christian’s extreme paranoia and hisoverprotective vigilance is beginning to get to me.As I take Jack’s lunch in to him, he glances up fromthe phone.“Ana, thanks. Since you’re not coming with me, I’m“Ana, thanks. Since you’re not coming with me, I’mgoing to need you to work late. We need to get thesebriefs ready. Hope you don’t ha一ve plans.” He smiles up atme warmly, and I flush.“No, that’s fine,” I say with a bright smile and a sinkingheart. This is not going to go down well. Christian willfreak, I’m sure.As I head back to my desk I decide not to tell himimmediately, otherwise he might ha一ve time to interfere insome way. I sit and eat the chicken salad sandwich Mrs.Jones made for me. It’s delicious. She makes a meansandwich.Of course, if I moved in with Christian, she wouldmake lunch for me every weekday. The idea is unsettling. Iha一ve never had dreams of obscene wealth and all thetrappings—only love. To find someone who loves me anddoesn’t try to control my every move. The phone rings.“Jack Hyde’s office—”“You assured me you wouldn’t go out,” Christianinterrupts me, his voice cold and hard.My heart sinks for the millionth time this day. Shit.How the hell does he know?“Jack sent me out for some lunch. I couldn’t say no.Are you ha一ving me watched?” My scalp prickles at thenotion. No wonder I felt so paranoid—someone was watching me. The thought makes me angry.“This is why I didn’t want you going back to work,”Christian snaps.“Christian, please. You’re being”—So Fifty—“sosuffocating.”“Suffocating?” he whispers, surprised.“Yes. You ha一ve to stop this. I’ll talk to you thisevening. Unfortunately, I ha一ve to work late because I can’tgo to New York.”“Anastasia, I don’t want to suffocate you,” he saysquietly, appalled.“Well, you are. I ha一ve work to do. I’ll talk to youlater.” I hang up, feeling drained and vaguely depressed.After our wonderful weekend, the reality is hittinghome. I ha一ve never felt more like running. Running to somequiet retreat so I can think about this man, about how heis, and about how to deal with him. On one level, I knowhe’s broken—I can see that clearly now—and it’s bothheartbreaking and exhausting. From the small pieces ofprecious information that he’s given me about his life, Iunderstand why. An unloved child; a hideously abusiveenvironment; a mother who couldn’t protect him, whom hecouldn’t protect, and who died in front of him.I shudder. My poor Fifty. I am his, but not to be keptin some gilded cage. How am I going to make him seethis?With a hea一vy heart, I drag one of the manuscripts Jackwants me to summarize into my lap and continue to read. Ican think of no easy solution to Christian’s fucked-upcontrol issues. I will just ha一ve to talk to him later, face toface.Half an hour later, Jack e-mails me a document that Ineed to tidy up and polish, ready for printing tomorrow intime for his conference. It will take me not just the rest ofthe afternoon but well into the evening, too. I set to work.When I look up, it’s after seven and the office isdeserted, though the light in Jack’s office is still on. Ihadn’t noticed everyone lea一ving, but I am nearly finished. Ie-mail the document back to Jack for his approval andcheck my inbox. There’s nothing new from Christian, so Iquickly glance at my Blackberry, and it startles me bybuzzing—it’s Christian.“Hi,” I murmur.“Hi, when will you be finished?”“By seven thirty, I think.”“I’ll meet you outside.”“Okay.”He sounds quiet, nervous even. Why? Wary of myreaction?“I’m still mad at you, but that’s all,” I whisper. “Weha一ve a lot to talk about.”“I know. See you at seven thirty.”Jack comes out of his office.“I ha一ve to go. See you later.” I hang up.I look up at Jack as he strolls casually toward me.“I just need a couple of tweaks. I’ve e-mailed the briefback to you.”He leans over me while I retrieve the document, ratherclose—uncomfortably close. His arm brushes mine.Accidentally? I flinch, but he pretends not to notice. Hisother arm rests on the back of my chair, touching myback. I sit up so I’m not leaning against the backrest.“Pages sixteen and twenty-three, and that should beit,” he murmurs, his mouth inches from my ear.My skin crawls at his proximity, but I choose to ignoreit. Opening the document, I shakily start on the changes.He’s still leaning over me, and all my senses arehyperaware. It’s distracting and awkward, and inside I amscreaming, Back off!“Once this is done, it’ll be good to go to print. You canorganize that tomorrow. Thank you for staying late anddoing this, Ana.” His voice is smooth, gentle, like he’stalking to a wounded animal. My stomach twists.“I think the least I could do is reward you with a quickdrink. You deserve one.” He tucks a strand of my hairthat’s come loose from my hair tie behind my ear andgently caresses the lobe.I cringe gritting my teeth, and I jerk my head away.Shit! Christian was right. Don’t touch me.“Actually, I can’t this evening.” Or any other evening,Jack.“Just a quick one?” he coaxes.“No, I can’t. But thank you.”Jack sits on the end of my desk and frowns. Alarmbells sound loudly in my head. I am on my own in theoffice. I cannot lea一ve. I glance nervously at the clock.Another five minutes before Christian is due.“Ana, I think we make a great team. I’m sorry that Icouldn’t pull off this New York trip. It won’t be the samewithout you.”I’m sure it won’t. I smile weakly up at him, because II’m sure it won’t. I smile weakly up at him, because Ican’t think of what to say. And for the first time all day, Ifeel the tiniest hint of relief that I am not going.“So, did you ha一ve a good weekend?” he askssmoothly.“Yes, thanks.” Where is he going with this?“See your boyfriend?”“Yes.”“What does he do?”Owns your ass . . . “He’s in business.”“That’s interesting. What kind of business?”“Oh, he has his fingers in all sorts of pies.”