Ana's POV

I woke, not feeling refreshed at all from last night's sleep. It wasn't that I'd been particularly nervous about today—today was only part of a string of interviews I'd been doing at different publishing houses in the area—but SIP was different. Of course, it was.

Idly, I wondered if I would have submitted my resume to SIP at all if had known at that time that Christian Grey had acquired the company. I told myself not to be stupid. The logical answer was yes, I should have done the same. I didn't have any reason not to. None of the companies I had applied at had responded to me other than to thank me for my interest in applying, and SIP, in the year that Christian had owned it, was rising fast with an increasing number of bestsellers.

But then that would make him my boss. Or, more likely, my boss's boss. Maybe even my boss's boss's boss's boss, depending on the company hierarchy.

I really was being stupid. For starters, Christian was a busy man, who employed hundreds of people. What were the odds that he'd realize I had come to work for him? Nil. What were the odds he'd care if he did find out? Also negligibly small. I was his ex-girlfriend from college. I was insignificant, a blip in his dating history which, given his billionaire status, was probably a pretty colourful one (although society pages suggested otherwise).

So I had no reason to be nervous. No, I wasn't nervous at all.

In the twelve or so months that Christian had owned SIP, the building had been efficiently and completely renovated from a dated brick building, to a sleek hyper-modern one, making it stand out ostentatiously in its surroundings. It wasn't in a bad part of town, exactly, but now it was probably twice as expensive as some of its surrounding buildings. Or, maybe it was just tasteful.

I let myself in through the revolving doors. The interiors were equally cold and modern which, I thought, suited Christian just perfectly—not that I would be a good judge of that anymore. I hadn't seen the man in five years or so, but even back then he'd already been reserved and painfully polite to the people he didn't know very well.

The receptionist took my name and, after giving me directions, directed me to an elevator that would take me where I needed to go. Even she looked polished and shiny. I'd tried my best to look put-together, and I thought my corporate-cross-librarian get-up would make me look reasonably hireable in a publishing company, but it didn't look like employees here had ever heard of Forever 21 or wear anything but posh designer duds to work.

I was, rather unexpectedly, out of my element in a company dealing with what I knew best in the world—books!—and I was growing to regret my decision to accept this interview by and by.

The elevator doors slid shut behind me. I pressed the number to the eighth floor like I was told to, and waited.

Christian's POV

I hadn't wanted to take that creative writing elective; it was a waste of time. And, back then, I'd already thought college was a waste of time. There were so few professors who valued original thought, and too many who would give you a 4.0 just for thinking the way they wanted you to think, Ivy League education be damned. I knew I wanted to be out in the world, trying my luck at entrepreneurship instead of sitting in a classroom.

But then I met her, and it felt like serendipity. Suddenly, I was grateful for the turn of events that had led me to that moment when I had met her. For a short time, I was whole and happy in a way I had never known all my life. And then things ended, and I felt the opposite.

People say it's better to have loved and lost, but with the direction my life had taken, sometimes I wish I had never loved at all.

She broke up with me over the phone.

Ana (hesitantly): Hello?

The phone had rung several times before she picked up. I had been just about to give up.

Me (frantic): Ana? Oh, thank God. Please. Forget the things I said. I didn't mean them. Please.

Ana (calmly): You had every right to say them, Christian.

Me: I was just... angry.

Ana (still calmly): Are you still angry now?

At this point, maybe I should have lied and tried to salvage what remained of our relationship. But I had never been in the habit of lying to her, never, in fact, been able to. And she'd sounded so relaxed... how could I have known that the reason she's sounded so tranquil was because she'd been planning to do this conversation all along?

Me (haltingly): Yes. Yes, I think. But we can fix that. I—(Here, I made some half-laugh-sob-monstrosity of a sound)—I don't think I could live without you.

Ana (troubled now): No, don't say that. You have to, and you will.

Me (confused): What are you talking about?

Ana: I think we should spend some time apart.

"Miss Steele is on her way up to see you, sir," the receptionist informed me through the intercom. So, it begins. I stood up, facing the window and away from door which Ana would be entering from. I wanted to be prepared when she came in, not that I hadn't run through this moment in my mind several times before already. It had been almost seven years, and I still couldn't work out what I wanted to say to her. It kept changing.

There was a time when I would have begged her on my knees to take me back. Another time when I would have lashed out at her for breaking her promise and leaving me like she said she never would have. Most of the time, when I picture this moment in my head, I tend to skip these parts and head right over to what I want to do after them, but I know that could never be.

I wanted her to submit herself willingly.

I heard the door open and close and a sharp thud when I should have heard the soft patter of footsteps approaching. I turned around, bemused to find her picking herself up off the floor. Well, she was always clumsy.

"I'm sorry, I..." she began sheepishly, then froze when she saw who she was talking to.

"Are you alright?" I asked casually as I approached. I was enjoying this moment.

"Yes, I... Do you interview all your applicants?" She was still visibly shaken, like she had seen a ghost. I supposed that was appropriate.

Of course not, Miss Steele, I'm fairly busy. "No, this is a special case." I smiled, though I'm not sure it looked altogether inviting. "I always look forward to the opportunity to reconnect with old friends." That was a lie, I'm sure she knew that.

Although since she was practically one of my only old friends, maybe it wasn't.

"But," she bit her lip, hesitating. It looked like she had never outgrown that habit, which was strangely comforting. "I didn't apply because I thought you'd, you know, lend me a hand." At this, she reddened.

I thought this was appropriate, too. I didn't owe her any favors—at least, not yet.

"I wasn't planning to," I said rather coldly, which made her straighten up. "Shall we start?"

She stared at me agape.

"Well, Miss Steele?" This was beginning to grow amusing. It took several years of carefully concealing emotions not for me to crack a smile.

"Miss Steele? I—I mean, you're going to interview me?"

"Why wouldn't I? I'm here, and I'm sure I'll make as good a judge as anybody in my company if you're fit for the position or not. Take a seat," I commanded. She did.

I settled myself in the desk across from her, enjoying watching her squirm. "Let's begin. How did you hear about the opening?"

Ana launched into some prattle about a newspaper ad catching her eye, a typical answer to a typical question. Instead of listening to her, I watched her speak. She was nervous, immensely so. I looked for guilt and sadness and longing, any indication that our shared past extended beyond that of mere friendship, but either these emotions were overruled by her anxiety or she didn't care at all, which was... fair.

I asked her a couple more questions, still waiting for her to exhibit signs that we had had a connection at some point in the past. Instead, she had begun to exhibit signs of anger. At the third question, she stopped me, "Why are you doing this, Christian?"

For a second, I feared she had seen through my guise. That she'd somehow caught hold of what I'd been doing in my spare time all these years, what I hoped to do with her. But that was impossible. My tracks were well-covered, and I hadn't let anything slip at all, yet.

"I'm interviewing you, Miss Steele," I replied, feigning confusion. I didn't bother to point out that we weren't on first-name basis, not anymore.

"You're hardly listening!" she accused me shrilly. "If I didn't have a chance at all, you shouldn't have wasted my time. You didn't have to invite me here to this interview just so you could gloat and—"

"You think I brought you here to gloat?"

"Yes!" she affirmed. At any other time, I would have wanted to rebuke her for her defiance, but here I had the strange urge to laugh again.

"Miss Steele," I said, trying to keep a straight face. "I asked you the most basic interview questions there are. If you thought I wasn't listening, it was only because I've heard everything all before."

"But I—"

"Also, if you're interested in applying for assistant to the commissioning editor, you may be interested to know there isn't an opening."

Her jaw dropped a little. "What? But I—"

"Because there isn't any commissioning editor. He resigned last week."

Ana sat very still for a moment, registering this. Finally, she said "Well, there isn't any point in me being here now, is there?"

"Actually, I did have another reason for meeting you here."And there it was, my opening. I had been waiting for it to come to this. "I have a proposition for you."

End of Chapter 1.

This is a new story, and I know it's plenty obvious that I'm changing several parts from the original story such as when they met, their age, and even what got CG into all his kinky what-not. I only hope that you'll like it and continue to read it. :] Do keep an open mind.