[Please note that this is from the book, but with a Christian twist to it. I'm sticking to mostly the original dialogue but adding Christian's thoughts and feelings. I do not own any rights to this story, book, or characters]
Monday
5.9.11
"Tomorrow." I mutter, dismissing Mr. Claude Bastille as he stands on the threshold of my office.
"Golf. This week, Grey." Bastille grins with easy arrogance, knowing that his victory on the golf course is assured.
I scowl after him as he turns and leaves. His parting words rub salt into my wounds because despite my heroic attempts in the gym this morning, my personal trainer has kicked my ass. Bastille is the only one who can beat me, and now he wants another pound of flesh on the fold course. I detest golf, but so much business is done on the fairways I have to endure his lessons there too… and though I hate to admit it, Bastille does go some way to improving my game.
As I stare out at the Seattle skyline, the familiar ennui seeps into my consciousness. My mood is flat and gray as the weather. My days are blending together with no distinction, and I need some sort of diversion. I've worked all weekend and now, in the continued confines of my office, I'm quite restless. I shouldn't feel this way, not after several bouts with Bastille…but I do. I frown.
My thoughts are interrupted by an intercom buzz on my phone. It's Andrea.
"What is it?" I snap, despite the fact that I know she's not to blame for my restlessness. I make it a point not to have anything other than a professional relationship with those who work for me.
"Miss Anastasia Steele is here to see you, Mr. Grey."
"Do you mean Miss Kavanagh, Andrea?" I quickly glance down at my blackberry. Yes, it's Miss Kavanagh that's scheduled the meeting with me.
"It's Miss Steele who is hear instead, sir." I hear her nervousness in her voice.
"Fine. Send her in." I say, the chill still evident in my voice. I hate unexpected visitors, and the only reason I agreed to do this interview is because of her father. Pity, I was curious to meet the woman who harassed my PR people for weeks on end. And after all that, she sends someone in her stead.
Before I have the chance to complete my thoughts on Miss Kavanagh, my office door opens and a woman literally falls in. Her clumsy behavior is irritating to me, but I was raised to be nothing but a gentleman in such situations. In a few short strides I'm next to the young woman, offering a hand to help her up. What I'm met with is an embarrassed and bright blue stare, which shocks me momentarily. I feel as if she can see into my soul. I snap back to reality and see that she has a shocked look on her face, she's stunned by me. It's just a pretty face, darling. She's flustered from her entrance, and the pink hue on her face lets me know. I love that shade of pink.
"Miss Kavanagh?" I decide to ask, even though I know better. I want to watch her squirm some more. "I'm Christian Grey. Are you alright? Would you like to sit?" I gesture to the chair across from my desk. The pink hue deepens in those cheeks of hers, but she manages to hold out her hand. My eyes meet her as I study her form carefully. Under those Old Navy clothes she probably has a nice body, but her sense of style is certainly not helping her. Her hair is disheveled from her fall, but it makes her a bit more attractive. I extend my hand and she starts to apologize for her entrance. My lips are pursed, trying to hold back my knowing smile.
"Miss Kavanagh is indisposed, so she sent me. I hope you don't mind, Mr. Grey." Her voice is nice to hear, though she's hesitant when she speaks to me. I continue to hold her gaze, her eyes searching mine. Biting back my smile just a bit longer, I ask who she is.
"Anastasia Steele. I'm studying English Lit with Kate, um…Katherine…Miss Kavanagh at Washington State" God, she sputtering over her words. She's nervous in front of me – and I can't help but like that a small bit. I try to steal her glance, but she looks anywhere except my face. The desk, the window behind me, Miss Steele is avoiding looking at me entirely. I take the long moment to study her further. Her chestnut brown hair is enticing, and I would be lying if I didn't continue to think about the body that lies underneath her cheap clothing. She doesn't have a single decisive or controlling bone in her body. She seems shy, reluctant…submissive. My mind instantly wanders into deep places before I bring myself back to reality. Miss Steele is focused on the painting in my office, seemingly beaming at the sight of it. "Local artist." I say, interrupting her concentration. "Trouton." I explain, unsure of why I offer further information about the art.
"They're lovely. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary." Her voice is like music in the silence of my office. She says the words so carefully, and yet with a sense of wonder. The lips that form those words are quite enticing, though it's the words that strike me.
"The ordinary raised to extraordinary." I repeat, not liking the sound of my voice as much as hers. Miss Steele is bright, which is something I wouldn't have expected given her entrance.
Two pink flags raise on her cheeks once more. I stow away the deep thoughts in my head for a later time. I can't let her know she has any sort of effect on me. As I tend to my demons, Miss Steele reaches into her oversized bag and sets a crumbled piece of paper on her lap. She continues to look in her bag, digging around until she produces a…disk recorder? Do they still make those? Surely they're in a shallow grave with VHS tapes. She's biting her lip as she fumbles with the machine. It's very…distracting. Stop doing that. I can't take my eyes off of her mouth. Does she even know how to turn that recorder on? I smile inwardly as she struggles.
"Sorry, I'm not used to this."
"Take all the time you need, Miss Steele." My eyes remain on her mouth as she looks down at the ancient machine. Her lips are so supple so…I need to stop.
"Do you mind if I record your answers?" she asks, her face a bit more calm, though she's still flushed that bright delicious color.
Christ, how many times can I hold back my laughter before it explodes across my face? "After you've taken so much trouble to set up the recorder, you ask me now?"
She looks hurt. God, I can be such an asshole sometimes. "No, I don't mind." I tell her softly. I don't want to see her looking at me like that ever again.
"Did Kate…did Miss Kavanagh…um, explain what the interview was for?" she looks up at me again. Those eyes.
"Yes, to appear in the graduation issues of the student newspaper, as I shall be conferring the degrees at this year's graduation ceremony." I still can't remember how, when, or why in hell I agreed to do that. It's supposed to be an honor, but I'm a busy man and now…I have a lot of research to do.
She looks surprised. Which is quite irritating. Has she not done any research about me before coming to this interview? My blood start's boiling. Is this going to be a waste of my time? This is the last favor for that man I'm ever doing.
"Good" she continues. Is she really still moving on with this? "I have some questions Mr. Grey." She still appears to be nervous, but that softens me for some reason.
"I thought you might." I'm no longer playing her game, but my own. I want to see that pink nervousness creep back to her cheeks at least once more before this show is over.
She presses the button on her recorder. "You're very young to have amasses such an empire. To what do you owe your success?"
Christ. This question is so overused and annoying. I thought you were bright, Ms. Steele. I shake my head internally. She can do better than this shit of a question. Hiding my eye roll, I give her my usual reply about having wondering people in the states working for me. People I trust, who count on me for certain things, ect, ect.
"Maybe you're just lucky." She's quiet, but straightforward.
If I wasn't irritated before, I definitely am now. There was no luck involved in my life. I work hard for every damned thing that I have. That's what I do, and I always have done. I need to fucking end this interview before I become too heated.
"You sound like a control freak." She says, with the same attitude but a bit louder.
Christ. What's going on in my office right now? Can she know from the way I'm standing here, speaking with her, who I am? "I exercise control in all things, Miss Steele." I say, in an almost husky voice.
She doesn't know how to respond to me. Her eyes widen a bit and her face becomes a twinge darker. I move forward in explaining myself, trying to take my eyes away from the lip she continues to bite at. "Besides" I start "Immense power is acquired by assuring yourself, in your secret reveries, that you were born to control things."
She arches an un-manicured brow. "Do you feel that you have immense power?" she asks, that melodious voice a thrill for my ears.
My irritation increases. Is she doing this to me on purpose, or is it just her nature to latch on to someone's annoyance? I reply with my answer about all of my employees and responsibility. I add on the bit about paying their mortgage for her to realize the extent of my power and responsibility. She thinks I have a board, but I only answer to myself. That's how I like it.
"And do you have any interests outside of your work?" she continues, her question quick as if she feels uncomfortable. She must know I'm irritated…and I'm not incredibly disturbed by that.
I explain my varied interests to Miss Steele all while watching her mouth. If she bites that lip one more time…
"But if you work so hard, what do you do to chill out?"
I wish I could tell her how I chill out. My playroom. The red walls. All of the things I could do to her in that room..fuck, I need to stop thinking about this. She asks me a few more questions, all of which she would easily know if she had bothered to do any research at all before this interview.
"Would your friends say you're easy to get to know?" I can feel my brows furrowing.
"I'm a very private person, Miss Steele. I go a long way to protect my privacy. I don't often give interviews." I need my privacy, given what my life is like.
"Why did you choose to do this one?
Haven't we been over this? "Because I'm a benefactor of the university, and for all intents and purposes, I couldn't get Miss Kavanagh off my back. She badgered and badgered my PR people, and I admire that kind of tenacity." I want to tell her that I'm glad she fell into my office instead, but I keep that to myself.
We chat for a few moments about the farming technologies and what my philanthropic ideals are. It's all very professional until she asks:
"So you want to possess things?" her eyes widen just a bit.
She does not want to hear the answer to that question. I hold myself back, my playroom flashing in my mind.
"I want to deserve to possess them, but yes, bottom line, I do."
She looks disapproving. "You sound like the ultimate consumer."
I wring my hands together behind my back, I'm frustrated in more ways than one. She moves on with her questioning. Again, asking questions that she shouldn't have to if she'd even used an internet search engine. She asks about my family, my life, which is all very private and personal to me.
"Are you gay, Mr. Grey?"
What the fuck? Christ, I know my whole family is suspect of my sexual identity, but that's no one's business, least of all a strange students from WSU. How dare she even ask! I take a deep breath in order to calm myself down, blood boiling with frustration. To her credit, she seems embarrassed by the question.
"No, Anastasia, I'm not." I say simply.
"I apologize. It's um…written here." She fidgets with her scrap piece of paper.
Does she not know her own questions? Maybe they aren't hers. I ask her, and she looks downright scared of her response. I glance at her face, waiting for a reply. She really is quite pretty.
"Er…no. Kate – Miss Kavanagh – she compiled the questions." She's looking down at her shoes. I want to see those eyes again.
"Are you colleagues on the student paper?"
"No. She's my roommate."
I run a hand absently through my hair. No wonder she's acting like this, she doesn't know what she's doing. I wonder if I should press her more, or leave it at that. "Did you volunteer to do this interview?" I ask. Finally, those eyes come to meet mine. She looks nervous again. I like that look on her.
"I was drafted. She's not well." She becomes very shy again.
"That explains a great deal."
A knock on the door pulls me away from Anastasia's face. My gaze is met with Andrea. Is it time already?
"Mr. Grey, forgive me for interrupting, but your next meeting is in two minutes."
"We're not finished here, Andrea. Please cancel my next meeting." I can see Andrea hesitating, her mouth open as she tries to figure out what I'm doing. Get out, Andrea. I will her. I'm busy with Miss Steele.
"Very well, Mr. Grey." she turns and the click of the door solidifies that.
I look back to Anastasia who is packing up her things, including her recording device. "I don't want to keep you from appointments, Mr. Grey." she stammers, items falling out of her bag.
No no, I think now it's my turn to learn more information about her. Of course I will have my background checks and other information to go off of, but I want to hear it from her. "I want to know about you now. I think that's only fair."
"There's not much to know" she says, her shy voice returning along with her rosy cheeks. I intimidate her.
"What are your plans after you graduate?" A simple question.
She shrugs before responding. "I haven't made any plans, Mr. Grey. I just need to get through finals." An idea strikes me, and I speak without thinking.
"We run an excellent internship program here." Why did I just say that? I'm breaking my rue of having any sort of relationships with staff other than professional. She's biting her lip again, for fucks sake that lip is killing me. She looks up at me, surprised by my statement.
"Oh, I'll bear that in mind." she says quietly, adding "Though I'm not sure I'd fit in here."
I find myself wondering why. I think she'd fit in nicely with my staff, a change from the usual blonde.
"Why do you say that?" I ask with a level head.
"Well it's obvious, isn't it?"
I'm confused. "Not to me."
She reaches for her bag again, clearly uncomfortable by something about me. Perhaps my directness is flustering to her? This mean's she's about to leave. Is there a way I can keep her here for a little longer? What do I have on my calendar today?
"Would you like me to show you around?" I ask suddenly. Yes, a tour will give me more time with her.
"I'm sure you're far too busy, Mr. Grey, and I do have a long drive."
"You're driving back to WSU in Vancouver?" My gaze finally leaves her form to glance out the window. It's been raining outside and that drive can be a long one. "Well, just be careful out there."
She stands up and I escort her to the door, admiring her for a moment as she walks in front of me. We stop at the door for a moment.
"Did you get everything you need?" I need her to stay.
"Yes, sir"
Sir. Her response makes my breath hitch in my throat. I've been called sir by so many people, but when Anastasia says it, and we're alone in my office, I can feel the heat rising below. I clear my throat.
"Thank you for the interview, Mr. Grey."
"The pleasure has been all mine." This was really quite something. She's a fascinating creature, and I can't help but think what would have happened if someone else had fallen into my office that morning.
She extends her hand to me in thanks again.
I grasp it. "Until we meet again, Miss Steele." I want to know more about her.
"Mr. Grey." She takes her hand away a little too quickly for my liking. I don't want her to leave. I decide to lead her out to the elevators, surely a few more moments together won't kill her. She looks confused.
"Just ensuring you make it through the door, Miss Steele." She blushes, just as I thought.
"That's very considerate, Mr. Grey." My, my, she has a bite to her. I smile inwardly as we walk past Andrea and Olivia. They appear surprised that I'm helping someone out the door.
"Did you have a coat?" I glance at Olivia.
"Yes."
It irritates me that Olivia is still staring at me instead of getting Anastasia's coat. She stares at me for a moment longer before my glare bores into her and she realizes what she's doing wrong. I take the coat from the girl and help Miss Steele into it. The material leaves something to be wanted.
The elevator door chimes open. Fuck, what do I say now? I need to see her again, definitely.
"Anastasia," I start, not knowing what more to say as I look into those ice blue eyes.
"Christian," she whispers my first name and my breath gets caught again - just as the doors close. My name on those beautiful lips is something I want to hear again. What was that? Was it my imagination or what she being husky with me?
"Andrea!" I bite my own lip as I walk back to my office. "Get me Welch on the line. Now." I'm stern, but not at her directly.
I stride over to my desk, sitting back in my leather office chair. I stare at the phone and wait for his call, my mind wandering back to Miss Steele and her perfect lips. The phone buzzes, a rude awakening in my dream state.
"I have Mr. Welch on the line for you."
"Put him through."
"Yes, sir." her sir leaves me with nothing.
"Welch" I state, pausing briefly. "I need a background check."
A few hours later the completed check is in my hands, and I must have read it fifty times by now. She's an interesting woman, Miss Anastasia Rose Steele. I can't get her out of my mind, and have found myself dwelling on her eyes, lips, and anything else I can remember about the woman. Christ, her lips.
I look down at the paper again. She is a smart woman, that much is true - 4.0 GPA at WSU. I look at the page once more, still surprised that Welch couldn't find out any information about past or present relationships. The way she looked and spoke to me in that interview make me believe that she's into men, but it's possible I could be wrong.
I drum my fingers on my desk and glance over at the clock, it's been four hours since I last spoke with Miss Steele, which is four hours longer than I would have liked. I press a button on the phone and get Andrea on the line.
"Mr. Grey?" she asks, as I haven't spoken yet.
"Andrea, book me a hotel in Portland for tomorrow." It's a statement, not a question.
"Of course, sir."
And here I am alone with my thoughts again. I will see her again tomorrow. It can't comes soon enough.