Hello everyone I would just like to say thank you for choosing to read this story. I do not own any of the characters I just play with them.
I did have another story up but I pulled it because this story was taking all my attention and I felt the other story was being rushed and I didn't want that to happen.
So please enjoy and leave a review I will be updating it as soon as possible =]
Chapter One:
As the Island ferry pulled into the dock Christen Grey got into his car where Taylor was waiting and prepared himself for what would be an unpleasant interview.
Waving a hand to Taylor to start the car he drove up the metal ramp onto the narrow highway. He knew exactly where he was going. He owned most of the island, after all.
An island now awash in early September sunlight, it's thickets of evergreen hugging the cliffs, the sea sparkling as it dashed itself against the rocks.
He was here at the request of Carrick, His adoptive father. Here on a fool errand, one that would lead to nothing but trouble because the women he was to track down was in theory.
Carrick's grand daughter.
Carrick's grand daughter? That had to be a joke of the century. She was a fake. of course she was.
According to Carrick she'd been born in LA and spent most of her life in Europe. Yet for the last eleven months she'd been living a mere forty miles from his parents family summer mansion on the coast of Maine.
Christian didn't believe in coincidence. Anastasia Steele was an imposter who'd heard of Carrick's considerable fortune and was biding her time to make a claim to it.
So it was up to him to stop her. And stop her he would.
On the meadows above the road, three deer were peacefully grazing. Christians eyes flicked over them, barely registering their presence. Carrick so he'd said had known about Ana ever since she was born, had supported her financially for her entire life, but had never been in touch with her directly or had spoke of her existence to anyone.
Through local gossip, Christian had long ago found out about Carrick's first biological son. The black sheep of the family who was supposedly Anastasia Steele's father. Carrick had not spoken a word about him either.
The two best kept secrets on the eastern seaboard, Christian thought, his fingers drumming the soft leather on the seats. If by any chance that she wasn't a fake then she was related to Carrick by blood as he Christian , was not.
This simple fact rankled, he resented even the possibility of Carrick having a grand daughter. Stupid of him, no doubt. but wasn't his reaction one more indication of how he'd always felt cheated of any true connection to his father?
Christian rolled down the window, the breeze tugging at his hair. Another minute or two and he'd be there. The investigator's report had stated that she was renting a converted fish shack just past the village.
The investigator was one Christian himself had used, his reputation was impeccable. But this time he was out to lunch.
As for strategy, Christian figured he'd wing it once he was face to face with her. For sure he'd have to fight her off. T
There wasn't' a women alive who could resist Carrick's money let alone Christians far more substantial wealth. Billionaire had a certain ring to it he had to admit.
So there were two rich men in the family. Yeah he'd have to fight her off.
They rounded a corner, and there, on the shore of the cove was a fish shack that had been turned into a small winterized cabin. An image of moorings, Carrick's summer place flashed across Christians mind. Carrick wanted him to bring Anastasia Steele to Moorings on the return trip. The contrast with the fish shack was so laughable that Christians anger jumped up another notch.
They turned down the dirt track to the cabin. No car parked outside and no sign of life. Anastasia worked full time, Tuesday to Saturday at the local library that's all that he knew, It was why he arrived well before nine on a Saturday morning.
He drew up outside the cabin and climbed out of the car.
Waves murmured on the shingled beach, a pair of gulls soared over head, their wings limned in light. Filling his lungs with cool salt air Christian briefly forgot his errand in the moment of sheer pleasure. His own love of the sea was a rare bond between him and Carrick.
With an impatient sigh, he strode over to the door, knocked hard and knew that silence on the other side of the door meant that she wasn't home. Fools errand indeed. She wasn't even there.
On ponderous gray wings a heron flew past and to Christians ears came the rattle of footsteps on the pebbles. Swiftly he circles the cabin. A women wearing brief shorts and a tank top was jogging toward him along the crest of the beach. She was agile, tanned and lithe, her hair jammed under a vivid orange baseball cap.
Then she caught sight of him, she stopped dead in her tracks, her breasts heaving from exertion and for the space of ten full seconds they stared at each other across the expanse of pebbled beach.
At a much slower pace which was imbued with reluctance or was it fear? Christian wondered and she started towards him.
On his way to the cabin, he'd pictured a bleached blonde with a slash of red lipstick and a lush in your face body.
He'd been wrong. About as wrong as he could be.
His mouth dry, his eyes intent, he watched her come to a halt twenty feet away from him, her back to the sun.
No lipstick. A sheen of sweat on her face, most of which was shadowed by the oversize brim of her hat. Workmanlike smeakers on her feet and legs to die for. He stepped closer and saw her, almost imperceptibly shrink away from him.
"Are you lost?" She said sharply.
"Are you Anastasia Steele?"
"Yes"
"My name is Christian Grey. I need to talk to you"
He could have easily have missed any tiny flicker of response that crossed her features as he said his name, so swift was it and swiftly subdued. Oh yes he thought, you're good.
Just not quite good enough.
"I'm sorry. I don't know you and I don't have time to talk to you, I need to get ready for work."
"I think when you know why I am here, you'll make the time." He said softly.
"then you think wrong. If you really want to see me come to the public library. Half a minute down the road across from the post office. I'll be there until five this afternoon and now if you'll excuse me."
"Carrick," Christen said. "That name doesn't ring a bell?"
"Why should it?"
"Carrick Grey is my father, he's the one who sent me here. His other son Elliot was your father."
Her body went rigid. In a staccato voice she said.
"How do you know my fathers name?"
"Let's go inside. As I said we have things to talk about."
But she was backing away, step by step her gaze glued to his face.
"I'm not going anywhere with you." She said , her fists clenched by her side so tightly that her knuckles were white.
Terror, Christian thought, puzzled. Why the hell would she be terrified of him? she should be jumping up and down for joy that Carrick Grey had finally sent someone to seek her out.
"If you don't want to go inside we can talk out here. There's lots of time the library doesn't open for another hour and a half." He said.
"Talk about what?"
"Your grandfather. Carrick Grey. Who just so happens to spend his summers forty miles down the coast. Don't tell me that you don't know about him because I won't believe you."
"You're out of your mind," She whispered. "I don't have a grandfather. My grandparents died a long time ago, not that it is any of your business. Whatever your game is Mr Grey, I don't like it. Please leave. And don't come back or I'll call the police."
The sheriff on the island was a longtime friend of Christian's. He should have come up with a strategy. Christian thought irritably, because this wasn't going the way he had imagined it would.
"Who told you your grandparents died?"
A tiny shiver rippled through her body, she hugged her arms to her chest.
"Go away and just leave me alone."
"We have several options here but that's not one of them."
Christian's jaw tightened. Above her thin tank top he could see the enticing shadow of her cleavage. Her arms were smoothly muscled, her fingers long and narrow. Ring less he noticed and in a sudden spurt of rage recalled the Grey family Diamonds.
He'd had enough of this ridiculous fencing. In a blur of movement, he'd closed the distance between them, gripped her by the arms and said forcefully.
"Your grandfather sent me. Elliot Seniors father."
Ducking her head. she kicked out at him as vicious and unexpected as a snake. As Christian automatically evaded the slash of her foot, she tore free and took off at a run up the slope.
In five fast strides Christian caught up with her, grabbed her by the shoulder and tugged her around to face him. But before he could say anything her body went limp in his hold.
Oh yeah, he thought cynically, oldest trick in the book. Digging his fingers into her shoulder because she was a dead weight he wrapped the other arm around her waist.
Then to his dismay he realized it wasn't a trick. She'd actually fainted. Face paper white, eyes shut, body boneless. With a muttered curse, he lowered her to the ground and thrust her head between her knees.
So the terror had been real. What in gods name was going on? Impulsively he pulled her hat off her head housing a tumble of dark chestnut curls from which the sun teased streaks of gold. It was soft between his fingers, silky smooth. She was too thin he thought. But her skin was like silk too.
Then she stirred, muttering something under her breath. He said with a calmness he was far from feeling.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have frightened you like that."
He could hear her trying to steady her breath, the small sounds mote him with compunction. He added.
"I've never in my life terrified a women into fainting, not my style which is something you'll have to take on trust. Look let's start again. I have a very important message for you, One I promised to deliver. But we can do this outside so you'll feel safe."
