The sound of the front door rattling, the key sliding into the slot, the knob turning….he's here. My eyes widened and I stare at my mother, sitting at our kitchen table, if that's what you call the card table and folding chair that she is slumped over in. My wide, gray eyes find her, half hooded stoned gaze, and she doesn't react to the sound of the front door opening that has sent me into a tail spin of anxiety. I run to the couch, grabbing the blanket that is too small to cover me and put it over my head. Maybe if he doesn't see me I won't get hit again...or burned. I sit, as still as a statue, holding my breath. I hear his heavy feet dragging against the floor and I then can see them as I look down at the floor from beneath my fabric of protection. My eyes brimming with tears…he sees me. I draw in a deep breath and prepare myself. The blanket is pulled off of my head and he stands there, smiling at me, a wicked, disturbing smile. He drops the blanket. He lifts his hand, I close my eyes and curl into myself. "When will you ever learn you sorry piece of…."
I bolt up in the bed, breathless, glancing around my master bedroom frantically, left to right, right to left. My breathing is short and quick and slowly I start to breathe in through my nose, long cleansing breaths to keep myself from hyperventilating. I blink; I'm in my room, not under the hand of my birth mother's pimp. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins, I am sweating and my heart is pounding. It feels as if it might explode through my chest. My chest. I look down and see the scars beneath the sheen of moisture that covers me. I flop back down on my sweat saturated pillow, my hands and arms thrown above my head and I stare up at the ceiling. "Fuck." I bring my hands together and pull them behind my head, closing my eyes. It's early. There is only a hint of daylight breaking through the skyline in Seattle, but there is no way I'm going back to sleep now. I sit back up in the bed, drawing in a deep breath and blowing it out slowly, moving to sit on the edge, throwing my legs over the side, my bare feet kissing the wooden floor. I'll go for a run…I think to myself and stand, walking to my dresser, pulling out a pair of sweatpants putting them on and then pulling a white t-shirt on over my head. I walk out into the hall and I see the glow of light filtering from Taylor's office. He hears me. I hear the clink of his shoes echo against the floor in my massive empty house. He raises a brow at me as he emerges, and I walk down the hall carrying my running shoes.
"Run?" he ask me, raising a brow. This wasn't unusual for me.
"Yes…and alone." My voice is clipped, and I barely look at him as I make my way down the hall, passing him and walking into the living room, sitting to put on my socks and shoes.
"But, Mr. Grey." His voice is laced with concern. I sigh.
"Alone, Taylor!" I snap, not taking my eyes off of my task at hand. "I'll be back in 45 minutes. If I'm not back by then you can come looking for me." I stand up, wiping the sweat off of my palms down the length of my thighs against my pants, standing to my full height and finally meeting Taylor's gaze.
"As you wish, sir." He says resigned, knowing when I am in this mood there is no negotiating with me. I walk to the front door, without another word, grabbing my ipod from the table and heading out.
I run. And run and run and run. Dr. Flynn would say from my past, but I say it's to clear my head, to forget that shitty recurring dream. As I run I go through my schedule for the day in my head. Meeting with Bastille at 10, then lunch with Michael Bates, a potential bidder on a company I bought out a month ago, and then….I wrack my brain trying to remember what the 2:00 appoin-….shit, I remember. My shoulders slump and my run slows to a jog and then to a walk as I am close to returning to Escala once more. It's with the Kavanagh girl, Katherine I think it is. Like I have time for this. I run my fingers through my hair, annoyed. I'll fit it in though, she is the daughter of an important acquaintance. It's a favor for him, the owner of Kavanagh Media. I'll stick this favor in my back pocket and use it if or when I need it.
Walking back into Escala, grabbing the elevator and punching in the key code, I ride up and find Taylor anxiously awaiting my return, standing in the foyer. He stands, appearing to be very casual, but the worry in his eyes gives him away every time.
"Taylor." He lowers his chin in regard to me, the worry already erasing now that I'm back. "I'll be ready in 20 minutes."
I brush past him and am on my way to my room when Mrs. Jones catches me asking about breakfast. "I'll have my usual, Gail. Thank you." I continue on to my room, without much hesitation, grabbing a shower and changing into my go to gray suit, white button down shirt and black tie. I run my fingers through my hair and am ready. I walk to the kitchen, sitting down at the bar and start in on the omelet that Gail has prepared for me. It is delicious as usual and I thank her as I stand from the bar and walk out, finding Taylor waiting to drive me to the office.
We drive in silence and after Taylor dropped me off at the front door to Grey Enterprises Holdings, I made my way up to my office, walking past Danielle that sits at the front desk, she was the first point of contact for everyone coming to the office. I simply lifted my chin at her in greeting, walking past her and hitting the button to call the elevator.
As the elevator doors spring open on the twentieth floor, I walk through to find both Olivia and Andrea sitting at their desk. Olivia our new intern stares up at me through her lashes and smiles, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. I sigh. Dream on, I think to myself as I turn my attention now to Andrea.
"Andrea, you've made the arrangements for the luncheon today with Bates?" I ask a bit too coarsely, but I can't help it, I'm annoyed from waking up too early and by the 2:00 interview.
She stands from her chair, smooths out her skirt and then lifts her blue eyes, finding it hard, even after two years to make eye contact with me. I smirk at the thought. "Yes, sir. All the arrangements have been made. We'll have lunch set up for you both in Conference Room A."
"Very good." She is dismissed as I turn on my heel and walk into my office, stalking over to my desk and sitting down. I have all of 5 minutes to myself before Andrea pages me that Bastille is here. I usher him in and so my day begins and before I know it I'm lost in my endless inbox of emails when my phone buzzes.
"Yes," I snap into the phone.
"Miss Anastasia Steele is here to see you, Mr. Grey." I look at the clock, confused. It's 2pm and I'm supposed to see Miss Kavanagh.
"Steele? I was expecting Katherine Kavanagh."
"It's Miss Anastasia Steele who's here, sir."
I sit back in my chair, frustrated. I was annoyed by this interview already and now I was even more so. I reached up and pinched the bridge of my nose, taking in a deep breath and then blowing it out in a huff, slapping my hand down on my thigh "Send her in."
I stand from my desk and make my way towards my office door. I reach up and adjust my tie, my eyes closed, and in that split second Miss Steele has managed to stumble her way into my office. I open my eyes to find her on her hands and knees in front of me. Shit. I walk to stand in front of her, offering her my hand to help her back to her feet. When she looks up to me from her position on the floor, blue eyes through long black lashes, I take in a sharp breath. So young – and attractive, if you can look beyond her mess of an outfit. "Miss Kavanagh." I say, as she takes my hand and finds her feet. "I'm Christian Grey. Are you all right? Would you like to sit?" I wonder if she is indeed OK, as it takes her what seems too long to speak. She finally does.
"Um. Actually –" When she finally really grasp my hand there is an electricity there, I narrow my eye slightly…what was that?...we shake hands, but she's still taking too long. I want to roll my eyes. Go on, already…I wait. "Miss Kavanagh is indisposed, so she sent me. I hope you don't mind, Mr. Grey."
Feeling so absolutely irritated by this I try hard to at least put on my poker-face. "And you are?"
"Anastasia Steele. I'm studying English literature with Kate, um…Katherine…um…Miss Kavanagh, at WSU Vancouver."
Really? I stifle a sigh and allow a ghost of a smile to play on my lips. "I see." I wave with my hand towards the couches that sit beside my desk. It will be less formal here and maybe this innocent little girl will relax some. "Would you like to sit?" I keep my eyes on her and notice that she is taking in my office. I'm sure she's never seen or been in anything quite this spectacular, my office, this building. As she gazes at the mosaic of small paintings on the far wall I answer what seems to be the question written on her face.
"A local artist. Trouton." I say as she turns her gaze to me as I speak.
"They're lovely. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary," she mumbles. Interesting choice of words. I wish she'd speak a bit more confidently. Be more sure of herself. She certainly has the looks. She could be speaking of herself, appearing very ordinary, but underneath all that, I steal a glance at her outfit once more, studying her from head to toe. Navy blue jacket, skirt, sweater, boots. I bet there is a figure underneath those bulky clothes just waiting to escape. I tilt my head to the side. "I couldn't agree more, Miss Steele," but I'm not talking about the paintings any longer. Stop it Grey….I turn to sit down on the couch, but when I return my gaze to her, her cheeks have filled with blush and they are rosy, making her blue eyes stand out even more.
She's fumbling through her bag. I continue to watch her, my annoyance is slowly being overtaken by humor. As I sit, I cross one leg over the other, sitting my left hand in my lap, my right elbow resting on the arm of the couch. My index finger is running across my lips as I try to hide my humor when she looks at me with those blue eyes again. "S-sorry," she says in that unsure voice once more, I move my finger, my small smile showing now. "I'm not used to this." she speaks again.
"Take all the time you need, Miss Steele," I say, raising a brow. I could sit and watch you all day long. And then out of nowhere, an unbidden and unwelcome thought enters my mind. Fucked up Christian comes out to play….she'd make a perfect sub, he whispers in my ear, sitting on my left shoulder, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Long brown hair, an unsure personality that needs to be whipped into shape, a figure that needs escaping, a girl that needs to be appreciated like it appears she has never been appreciated before. Her next question steals me from my thoughts, thankfully.
"Do you mind if I record your answers?" She asks only after she has taken the time to take out and set up the recorder.
"After you've taken so much trouble to set up the recorder, you ask me now?" If someone hasn't pointed out the obvious to her before, then there is no time like the present to start. I smile at her softly to try to take the sting out of my rebuff. So unlike me. I normally could care less if my words sting someone, but she…she was different. "But, no, I don't mind." I add quickly.
She reaches down and starts the recorder, sitting back, she crosses her legs and unfolds the questions she retrieved from her bag earlier. "Did Kate, I mean, Miss Kavanagh, explain what the interview was for?"
"Yes. To appear in the graduation issue of the student newspaper as I shall be conferring the degrees at this year's graduation ceremony." Is she graduating? Maybe she is. I will get to see this beauty again….but she'll be covered in that damn robe…
"Good." Her words snap me out of my reverie. "I have some questions, Mr. Grey."
Do you now? I stifle a laugh, keeping my face blank and unreadable. "I thought you might."
And at that, she sits up straight, her posture making her taller, appearing more confident and more sure in herself. Now that…that's much more like it Miss Steele. I like what I see…even more. I smile, apologetically now for my smart ass comment earlier.
She begins. "You are very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?" She lifts her large blue eyes up at me, penetrating me once more, but her question…I sigh, is this as creative as they get? I've been asked this one a thousand times, if not more. I proceed with my customary answer.
"Business is all about people, Miss Steele, and I'm very good at judging people. I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn't, what inspires them, and how to incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team and I reward them well." I pause as those blue eyes penetrate my gaze, I'd like to put those blue eyes behind a blind – "My belief is to achieve success in any scheme one has to make oneself master of that scheme, know it inside and out, know every detail. I work hard, very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic and facts. I have a natural gut instinct that can spot and nurture a good solid idea and good people. The bottom line is it's always down to good people."
"Maybe you're just lucky." My eyes widen in surprise. Excuse me? The audacity. I lean forward, uncrossing my legs, shifting my body weight to one side, one hand sliding down my thigh, I rest my elbow with my other arm on my knee as my hand relaxes straight out in front of me.
"I don't subscribe to luck or chance, Miss Steele. The harder I work the more luck I seem to have. It really is all about having the right people on your team and directing their energies accordingly. I think it was Harvey Firestone who said, "The growth and development of people is the highest calling of leadership.'" I pull out my sure fire quote…I love that one, and it cannot be argued with.
"You sound like a control freak."
Any humor I may have found in this petulant little girl is gone. How I would love to take her across my knee with that smart ass mouth of hers. The image is playing in my head, my grey eyes are watching her, as the image of her dances in my head, and her face flushes as if on cue. Damn right.
"Oh, I exercise control in all things, Miss Steele." My voice is harsher than I intend for it to be. I finally sit back on the couch, re-crossing my legs and run my fingers across my bottom lip as I consider the things I'd like to do to this sexy, peevish woman. But first I continue, softening my voice "besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things,"
"Do you feel that you have immense power?"
Ha! I know I have immense power. "I employ over forty thousand people, Miss Steele. That gives me a certain sense of responsibility – power, if you will. If I were to decide I was no longer interested in the telecommunications business and sell, twenty thousand people would struggle to make their mortgage payments after a month or so." There, chew on that…
Her mouth gapes open…seems I have her attention now. I hold back the smirk that threatens to spread across my face.
"Don't you have a board to answer to?" Her voice is offended? How could I offend her with that? I sigh.
"I own my company. I don't have to answer to a board." Annoyance lacing my voice, I raise a brow at her, she should already know this.
"And do you have any interests outside of work?"
And where is she going with this? "I have varied interests, Miss Steele." Yes I have varied interest outside of work and how I would love to introduce you to one of them. A ghost of a smile spreads across my face. "Very varied." My mind starts to go wild with images of her in the playroom.
She interrupts yet again. "But if you work so hard, what do you do to chill out?"
"Chill out?" I smile at her choice of words and shuffle through my hobbies for her. "Well, to 'chill out,' as you put it – I sail, I fly, I indulge in various physical pursuits." I shift in my seat as I start to think with my crotch instead of my mind….hand cuffs and flogs and paddles and blindfolds and…. "I'm a very wealthy man, Miss Steele, and I have expensive and absorbing hobbies."
"You invest in manufacturing. Why, specifically?" Boy, talk about changing subjects…from boards, to hobbies to manufacturing, she certainly isn't the journalist, but I roll with her bi-polar interview.
"I like to build things. I like to know how things work: what makes things tick, how to construct and deconstruct. And I have a love of ships. What can I say?"
"That sounds like your heart talking rather than logic and facts."
One can loves ones job can't they? My mouth quirks up, and grey eyes stare into her blue oceans. "Possibly. Though there are people who'd say I don't have a heart."
"Why would they say that?" she asks her voice full of innocence.
"Because they know me well." I force a sardonic smile. From my family who knows my past, to Elena who controlled my adolescence to the people who work with me now that has to suffer the consequence of both…..that's why I would say that.
"Would your friends say you're easy to get to know?" I don't like where this is going with this.
"I'm a very private person, Miss Steele. I go a long way to protect my privacy. I don't often give interviews…" Next question. I give her a matter of fact expression and can tell that she regrets asking, but curiosity lights her eyes.
"Why did you agree to do this one?"
"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." Now surely that is not on your very professional folded and tattered piece of notebook paper, Miss Steele. Here comes my annoyance again. I hold her gaze, staring….real questions, please. I sigh.
"You also invest in farming technologies. Why are you interested in that area?" That's more like it.
"We can't eat money, Miss Steele, and there are too many people on this planet who don't have enough to eat." Don't open a can of worms, Grey….
"That sounds very philanthropic. Is it something you feel passionately about? Feeding the world's poor?" Dammit…she is insightful…I shrug, trying to seem nonchalant about the topic although I am indeed very passionate.
"It's shrewd business," I say cryptically, hoping her insightfulness will be swayed. I will not and I won't go into detail about what led me down the path of feeding the world's poor.
"Do you have a philosophy? If so, what is it?"
"I don't have a philosophy as such. Maybe a guiding principle – Carnegie's: 'A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled.' I'm very singular, driven. I like control – of myself and those around me."
"So you want to possess things?"
What? I tilt my head to the side…yes, but only if they are well earned and if I do say so myself I do my fair share... "I want to deserve to possess them, but yes, bottom line, I do."
"You sound like the ultimate consumer."
"I am." I smile, but it's to hide the confusion she is causing me to feel. Yes I am a consumer, I want to possess things, but I also want to feed the world's poor. Can one have the best of both worlds? But there is a part of my world that is missing and she is causing a part of my heart, deep, way deep to start thinking and I don't like it. Sweat begins to bead across my forehead, is she making me…uncomfortable? Nope, no way. No one makes Christian Grey uncomfortable.
She looks down to proceed to the next question…good. "You were adopted. How much do you think that's shaped the way you are?" Fuck…she's going to go here? My brow furrows. She is going into territory that I will not talk about. I am matter of fact again.
"I have no way of knowing." My voice is clipped.
She looks curious. Lose the look Miss Steele. I won't budge on this one. She proceeds. "How old were you when you were adopted?"
My jaw clenches and I am starting to get pissed. "That's a matter of public record, Miss Steele." My breathing starts to increase. I can end this interview quicker than superman can fly to the top of the Seattle Space Needle if she starts going too far with this.
"You've had to sacrifice family life for your work."
And? "That's not a question." I admonish, my fingers sliding over my lips once more, and she starts to squirm in her seat. I can give you a real reason to squirm in your seat, Anastasia. I move my hand from my lips and lay it flat on the smooth couch beside me, my palm is twitching.
"Sorry. Have you had to sacrifice family life for your work?" She corrects herself.
"I have a family. I have a brother and a sister and two loving parents. I'm not interested in extending my family beyond that." For I am so fucked up, I will not, in a thousand years fuck up a child like I was.
"Are you gay, Mr. Grey?" She has read straight from the paper and I can see her mortified expression already, but it doesn't help my sharp intake of breath that I blow out in a huff. Ask my family, they'd say yes, but "No, Anastasia, I'm not." I raise both brows…I'm about as far from gay as gay can possibly get.
With her cheeks alight with blush, her blue eyes even more penetrating than before, she lifts them to me in apology. "I apologize." Sir! I think as she continues. "It's um…written here." She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear and I cock my head to the side trying to get a better view of her seemingly shy face.
"These aren't your questions?" All hints of blush are gone and she has turned completely white…oh hell…don't pass out on me Miss Steele.
"Er…no. Kate – Miss Kavanagh – she compiled the questions."
I already know the answer to my next question, but I want to see how she handles herself in a stressful situation. "Are you colleagues on the student paper?"
Anddd the blush is back. "No. She's my roommate."
I reach up and begin to rub my chin, considering her answer. Roommate and best friend. Not just anybody would drop what they were doing and fill in for a roommate.
"Did you volunteer to do this interview?" I ask her, trying to get a feel for why she had done this, never taking my eyes off of her.
"I was drafted. She's not well."
"That explains a great deal." And I'm interrupted as there is a knock at my door. Dammit. Andrea pokes her head in letting me know that my next meeting was starting in two minutes. But I'm not done having fun with Miss Steele, I pout mentally.
"We're not done here, Andrea. Please cancel my next meeting." I say to her not taking my eyes off of Anastasia. When Andrea doesn't respond I turn my head slightly towards her, raising both brows, and without a word, she flushes bright pink. She knows better than to test my judgement.
"Very well, Mr. Grey," she mutters, then exits. I turn my attention back to the stand in journalist whom I am having fun with now, asking her the questions. I'd really like to get to know her better, and she looks at a loss now that I've told Andrea to cancel my next meeting. Her voice is soft. "Please, don't let me keep you from anything."
You got up close and personal with me, Miss Steel…my turn. "I want to know about you. I think that's only fair." I sit further back in my chair, getting comfortable, steepling my fingers in front of my mouth after resting my elbows on the arms of my chair, and while I get more comfortable she seems to be getting uncomfortable.
"There's not much to know." She says, I can tell she's trying to get herself out of my interview now. Oh there is plenty to know, I can look in those eyes and tell. She is very intelligent, insightful and seems to see right through people. Let's see if my good judgement on people that I bragged about earlier is true about her.
"What are your plans after you graduate?" I ask.
She shrugs her shoulders. "I haven't made any plans, Mr. Grey. I just need to get through my final exams." Sweet! Just the answer I was looking for, and I speak before I really give good thought to what I'm about to say.
"We run an excellent internship program here." As I say the words my voice becomes softer. What am I doing? Why do I want to see this little college age, smart mouth, soul reading little girl again? She's already made me sweat once, like not many have before. Why? Am I offering her a job?
"Oh. I'll bear that in mind," she says softly as if she is confused. "Though I'm not sure I'd fit in here."
Wha-What? Not sure you would fit in? Why? "Why do you say that?" I'd make sure you fit in here just fine. I tilt my head to the side, curious to hear why she doesn't think that she would fit in. Is she uncomfortable?
"It's obvious, isn't it?"
No, it's not and I want to know why so that I can fix it! "Not to me." She stares down at her hands and then shifts her eyes to her bag and then leans forward to grab the recorder. No! No, no, no….she's leaving. Fuck. What can I say? I want her here longer? What? I huff, not sure why I'm having these feelings.
"Would you like me to show you around?" Please, let me show you around.
"I'm sure you're far too busy, Mr. Grey, and I do have a long drive." Oh I have a ton of shit to keep me busy, but that's the beauty of my wealth and control. I'm the boss, I say when and if I am going to work. So for you…I'm not far too busy. But I digress and then my attention turns to the rain falling outside of my office window.
"You're driving back to Vancouver?" I say, hoping the concern I'm feeling doesn't show in my voice. Taylor could drive you. I shake my head back and forth, shut it, Grey! What are you doing and why do you even care? "Well, you'd better drive carefully." I add, not meaning to sound so strict but I mean it.
One last try. "Did you get everything you need?"
"Yes, sir," And at that I almost implode. Playful Christian is sitting on my left shoulder and is screaming in my ear and my crotch twitches and has come to take over all rational thought. In my mind's eye I see her kneeling at the front door of my playroom bare chested and in just her panties…oh the things I could do –
"Thank you for the interview, Mr. Grey." She snaps me out of my fantasy once more and I rise, extending my hand towards her. I'm glad I didn't get too far in that fantasy or it would take me a few minutes before I could rise to shake her dainty hand. As she reaches and slides her hand into mine I wonder if it will still be there…the electricity…and oh…I meet her blue gaze, my eyes narrowed slightly….and there it is, the spark and it seems almost more intense than before.
"Until we meet again, Miss Steele." Because we will meet again. What Christian wants, Christian gets. I think I made that clear to her in our interview. I smirk and drop her hand, walking to the door to my office, swinging it open as wide as it will go.
"Just ensuring you make it through the door, Miss Steele." I smile and she blushes. Please…will you ever stop with the blush?
"That's very considerate, Mr. Grey." And a wide smile spreads across my face. How I would love to do some more considerate things with you. And I find myself thinking outside of my playroom and almost visibly shudder. I don't do things with girls outside of that room. I need my mind off of this.
"Did you have a coat?" She better hope she brought a coat, or else I'll have to give her mine. She won't be going out in that rain without protection.
"A jacket." She says almost in a whisper and Olivia, smart attentive girl that she is, one of the reasons I hired her, along with her blonde hair, gets up to get her jacket for me. I take it before Miss Steele can grab it with her extended hand, and I hold it up for her. As she moves to put the jacket on I want to touch her so bad, so I allow my hands to touch the top of her shoulders lightly, closing my eyes almost in bliss at the touch of her shoulders under my hands. Olivia's and Andrea's eyes are on me. I've never walked someone out of my office quite like this before. Back to work ladies! I scream in my head, but only open my eyes and lift my gaze to look at them both and they quickly get back to their desk and are then lost in their to do lists.
I walk her to the elevator, pushing the button to call it up and all too quickly the elevator doors swing open. She steps in and turns back around to face me. I stand with both my hands rested on my hips, my suit jacket pushed behind them.
I guess this is good-bye…for now. "Anastasia," and I lower my chin at her, my grey eyes into blue.
"Christian," she says in return and she bites down on her bottom lip, unsure. My eyes widened and my crotch sings in satisfaction. And in the blink of an eye the elevator doors close and she is gone.
Please be careful, I can't help but think, as she goes out into the pouring rain in the city that is Seattle.
I turn on my heel and head to my office, closing the door behind me, and picking up the phone. I need Dr. Flynn…..