A/N: I am throwing this first chapter out there to see if this plot is something you all would enjoy reading. I only plan to continue with it if there seems to be a good bit of interest. This story will be following the story line of E.L. James' Fifty Shades of Grey. I felt like Bates and Anna could fit this story line. I plan on customizing it to make it work for them, but it will follow several of the Fifty Shades of Grey main points for the most part. Please, let me know if you think I should continue.
Disclaimer: I do not own Downton Abbey nor any of its characters. I also do not own Fifty Shades of Grey. All credit goes to Julian Fellowes and E.L. James.
Gwen Dawson is going to owe me big time.
I scramble through my closet to search for something decent to wear, though it is unlikely. I huff in exasperation from my choices and stalk back into the bathroom to look at myself in the mirror. My hair looks a stringy mess even though I just washed it the night before, and there is a pimple forming to the right side of my chin. Wonderful!
As I stand there time is ticking away, and I am nowhere near any closer to leave. I shouldn't even be having to worry about this right now. I should be finishing up the last pieces of pottery I need to complete but no. I am very quickly dashing around the flat, so I can fill in for Gwen for an interview on someone I have never met. Gwen can't help that her mother is suddenly needing her appendix taken out, and she needs to be there with her. But still I hadn't expected her to beg me to do this interview in lieu of her.
Of course, I ended up agreeing early this morning, and now I am in a state of panic.
I quickly bring my hair up into a messy up-do. It isn't the best I've ever done, but truthfully it isn't the worst. For now it will have to do. I am reluctantly opening my make-up bag when my mobile phone rings. I jog into my bedroom to retrieve the phone and see it is Thomas calling. Pressing the green button on the screen, I answer it.
"Hello."
"Anna, you sound winded."
"That's because I am. I have to leave here in half an hour to be in Canary Wharf by ten."
"How far have you gotten?"
"Hair," I state.
"Oh, that's unacceptable. I'll be there in five."
I drop the phone back to my bed as Thomas ends the call and rush to the front door, unlocking it. My feet carry me back to my closet where I stand and groan. This is not good. This is bad. The man I am interviewing is John Bates, CEO of Bates Accountancy Firm. I know nothing of the man other than he is a financial genius, a billionaire, and supposedly is very charitable. I have a short list, and I do mean short, of things I should know and the list of interview questions sitting on the kitchen table.
I hear the front door open, and I'm relieved.
"Anna?"
"I'm back here, Thomas."
He enters the room and sees me standing in the closet looking forlorn.
"Let me see what we have to work with," he insists before I walk out, and he walks in.
He shuffles through the hangers making disapproving sounds as he goes.
"Do you not have any clothes that you don't work with clay in?" he grimaces as he continues his search.
I feel myself blush and reply quietly, "A few."
He steps back from the clothes and says, "You're borrowing something of Gwen's."
My eyes widen. I hadn't thought of that. We walk into Gwen's room, and Thomas immediately storms her closet.
"So, why are you going to Canary Wharf?" he asks as he looks more pleased with Gwen's choices.
"I'm filling in for Gwen at the last minute interviewing John Bates."
He picks out a pair of dark denim skinny jeans, a black blouse, and white jacket.
"John Bates? That name sounds familiar," he muses as he lays the outfit on the bed and goes back for shoes.
"He's the CEO of Bates Accountancy Firm. Gwen was supposed to interview him about his philanthropy work, but her mom ended up in surgery this morning."
Thomas places a pair of black flats next to the outfit and turns around to look at me.
"Yes, I've heard he's kind of mysterious, but it makes sense why you're going to Canary Wharf now. Tell Gwen I'm thinking of her. Put this on."
He walks out of the room to give me some privacy as I change into the clothes. Once I am in them I look into the mirror Gwen has on the back of her door, and I am satisfied with what I see. The look is simple, yet dressy enough for interviewing someone. I walk out of Gwen's room, hoping she won't care I invaded her closet, and back into my room.
"Hurry up, in here," Thomas calls from the bathroom.
I walk in and he has the counter set up with make-up.
"That was fast."
"You have like ten minutes, Anna. I think talking is the last thing we need to be doing right now," he states with a hand on his hip.
Knowing he is right, I sink down into the vanity chair. He is every good at these sorts of things and is currently making his way through school for hair and make-up. He's hoping to work with a fashion company here in London.
"Done," he says only minutes later.
I blink a few times before I turn to look in the mirror. It is clear I have make-up on, but it looks natural. He is even able to hide the pimple that had decided to make itself known.
"How do you do that?" I ask.
He chuckles, "It's what I do. Now, off with you."
We share a quick kiss to both cheeks before he is walking out of the flat. I collect my purse, phone and keys and am now standing by the kitchen table. I pick up all the items left there for me by Gwen and leave the flat.
The morning is cloudy, and as I make my way to the nearest underground station, I hope the rain holds off until I am safely inside BAF. I look to the timetable once I am inside to see I have two minutes before my train arrives. I sigh in relief.
The next thing I know the train is rushing into the station. I must have drifted into my own thoughts for the whole two minutes. When the train comes to a stop and the doors open I quickly enter. It is crowded inside, but that is to be expected on any given weekday morning. I find a small area to stand and clutch tightly to the notepad and file I have in my hold.
When I finally depart the train, I cross the platform and step onto the escalator. The ride is quick to the top and soon I'm stepping back onto the street. The clouds are getting darker as I look up to notice them, but my destination is close. Exhaling, I begin my determined walk to Bates Accountancy Firm.
My steps begin to slow as I come face to face with a large, towering building. There has to be at least thirty floors to the rectangular structure. My eyes scan back down the countless windows to look at the front where a large B,A, and F stand tall and prominent above the entry way. There's no mistaking I have the right place. That's for sure.
I'm only going to make myself late if I stand there and gape all morning, so I walk forward and into the building.
I'm surrounded by a clean and minimal foyer. The floors are a glistening white marble that makes even the sound of my ballerina flats more pronounced. I could only imagine what heels would sound like. The reception desk is a dark, slate blue that I can see my reflection in as I move closer. The wall behind is a highly polished walnut ship lap with a large TV monitor with the words 'Welcome to Bates Accountancy Firm' on the screen. I feel my head turning to see what else is in the room to find a couple of plush chairs in a form of a waiting area.
"May I help you?"
I look straight ahead as I stop in front of the slate blue counter and see a beautiful brunette addressing me.
"I..." I falter as her dark brown eyes peer at me. "I'm here to see John Bates."
She holds my gaze for a couple of seconds more before she says, "One moment, please."
She quickly types something into the computer and then looks back up.
"The lifts are to your left please take one to the thirtieth floor."
I realize when she looks back to her computer that she isn't going to say anything else, so I turn and walk to the lifts. When I press the smooth up button along the wall the doors immediately open and I step inside. Pressing the button with the number thirty on it, I watch the doors close and then feel myself being lifted upward.
A soft ding is the only sound I hear as the doors open again. I step out of the lift and into what appears to be another foyer. This one looks much the same as the bottom floor, and I walk to the counter to see yet another breathtakingly beautiful brunette sitting behind a computer.
"May I help you?"
"Yes, I'm Anna May Smith. I'm here in place of Gwen Dawson to meet with John Bates."
The brunette, who has her hair in a tight bun, types rapidly and then suddenly looks back up to me.
"Mr. Bates is just finishing up with someone else at the moment, Miss Smith."
"Oh, okay."
The brunette stands and rounds the counter.
"You may have a seat over here," she says as she points to a couple of chairs. "May I offer you something to drink while you wait?"
I feel slightly flustered at being addressed so formally and politely.
"No, thank you."
The brunette nods and walks back to her station, and I take my seat on a ridiculously comfortable chair. It's then I release my death like grip on the note pad and file I've been carrying. I look down and notice I've slightly crumpled several pages of the note pad. Way to start off on the right foot, Anna.
I feel myself stiffen as I hear a door open and a voice fill the air. I look to see a gentleman with dark hair wearing a chocolate brown suit leaving the room he was just in.
"I'll see you out in the field soon then?" The man says as he looks back into the room.
I didn't hear the reply before the man turned to leave. He gives me a small smile and nod before he is in the lift and gone.
"Mr. Bates will see you now," calls the brunette.
I make my way to my feet even though I'm now feeling wobbly. My nerves are attempting to make themselves known now that I am finally going to be meeting him, a man I know almost nothing about. I walk over to the closed door of Mr. Bates' office and take the handle in hand. I pull the door open forcefully thinking it would be quite heavy but find out it is light and drop my things to the ground.
With my heart now in my throat, I instantaneously bend down to collect the note pad and file and ungracefully stand myself back up as a feel a hand press lightly to my back. Why, Anna, why.
I force myself to look up. Whoa, he's not what I expected.
"Miss Dawson, are you quite all right?"
I find myself just staring instead of speaking.
"I'm John Bates. Please, have a seat."
My mind hadn't come close to envisioning the man before me. He is middle-aged and handsome in a way I couldn't put my finger on. He's wearing a navy suit, crisp white shirt, and navy tie. He's tall, much taller than I am, and has rich chestnut hair held in place lightly by product. His eyes are a concoction of green and brown. I find he is now looking at me with the slightest bit of confusion in his eyes.
"I..." I stutter. Did his eyes just change to more brown?
I lift my hand in an attempt to get a grip on myself and say, "I'm not Miss Dawson. She had a family emergency."
He takes my hand oh-so-gently into his and wraps his fingers around mine. I find myself almost gasping from the contact.
"Is that so?" he murmurs.
"Yes, I'm Anna May Smith."
He releases his grip on my hand, and I let it fall back down to my side. Why did that feel so intense?
"Please," he says as he waves his hands to the brown leather chairs in front of his desk.
I give him a tight and embarrassed smile as I move in the direction of the chairs. It's then my eyes wonder around his office for the first time. It's not what I was expecting it to be. The walls are dark walnut wood much like the ship lap behind the reception counter. These walls though have carvings. He has a few art pieces hanging up, landscape pieces. Along the far wall is a wall to wall bookcase filled with books and a few decorative additions. His desk is also a dark wood and large. It looks quite intimidating, and I wonder if he has chosen this desk specifically for that reason. There is a large brown leather chair behind his desk and windows line the wall. It let's in a nice natural light into the room making it not as dark. My flats lightly tap against the hardwood floor before I take my seat.
I fumble with my purse and the items now in my lap as he sits across from me.
"Do you work with the same paper as Miss Dawson, Miss Smith?" he asks as his crosses one long leg over the other.
I stop my fidgeting to look up at him. His gaze is pressing into mine.
"I... that is no. No, I don't." I stammer.
"May I ask what makes you qualified to interview me then?"
I blink at him as his face remains stoic. I suddenly feel more panicked.
"I have her interview questions here with me. So, it'll be like she's here instead of me anyway."
I nervously tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear that has fallen out of my messy up-do.
"Proceed, Miss Smith," he responds with a faint smirk gracing the corner of his mouth.
I pull a recorder out of my purse and say, "May I record this?"
He stares blankly at me for a few seconds before he gives his consent.
He probably thinks I'm out of my depth, which I am completely.
"Thank you," I murmur before I look down to the questions in my lap. I take a pen into my right hand and hover it above the note pad.
I read the first question on the page. "How did you end up being the financial genius of London?"
I lift my eyes from the page to look to him for a response. He looks as though he's been asked this question more times than he can count.
He clinches his jaw and then replies, "Success is equal to control in all things, Miss Smith. I learned very early on that you have to be structured and efficient. The only reason I am where I am is because of hard work, countless hours of time, and the people I employ around me. The term 'financial genius' is not a phrase I identify with."
"But that is technically what you are isn't it?"
"I am good with numbers, tax codes, legal terms, and currency. This wasn't some twist of fate. I studied accountancy at Oxford before dropping out to strike out on my own. I now employee twenty thousand or so employees who help to make what I have built even stronger. It really is about those around you, and how you use them."
Well, he's sort of over confident.
"And what about you? What is it you do?"
I feel myself tense at his question. I am the one supposed to be interviewing him not the other way around. He looks at me expectantly, so I feel as though I must answer his question.
"I'm a potter," I say quietly.
One of his eyebrows arc upward. "As in someone who makes pottery?"
I nod my head and bite my lower lip. I notice his eyes darken, and I feel a sensation through my lower half.
"Answer me," he says calmly yet firmly.
I release my bottom lip and say, "Yes. I make pottery and sculptures."
A short silence passes between us, so I look back down to the page to ask the next question.
"Do you consider it a good deed to be one of London's largest employers?"
I look back up to look at his stoic face again.
"It's just business. I do not put any emotional attachment into the business I run. I employ people because it is necessary not because I feel I owe it to anyone. I give people a fair wage for their time and effort."
"So, I'm assuming there aren't any office Christmas parties." I didn't mean to say it out loud.
"No, there isn't. I don't run the largest accounting firm to be frivolous. Anyone employed by me is treated with the dignity and respect they deserve. I see no reason to add anything personal."
I need to make a mental note to never apply for work for his company. I feel sorry for his employees already.
"What is it that John Bates does when he's not working?" I read from the list.
"I have unique pastimes, Miss Smith." His lips curl faintly into a half-smile. I feel my heart pound a little harder looking at it.
I look back to my list, knowing if I continue to ask him about his interests I'll lose sight of why I'm here.
"You work closely with Crystal Life Spring International. Why do you support this cause?"
"I believe clean drinking water is a right for everyone. Who are we to say who deserves to have fresh drinking water, and who doesn't? I believe it is important work to install wells around the world. No one should ever go thirsty just because they can't access fresh water."
"I quite agree."
A sparkle shoots across his eyes as he continues to stare at me intently.
"So, is that why you also invest in manufacturing?"
"Partly. I would like to create some better technology for people to access water. I have a team working on this. I also like to see how things are made."
"Looks like you have emotional attachment in this case."
He cocks his head to one side and regards me. He smirks.
"Excellent observation, Miss Smith. Though I know it not to be true."
"How so?"
"Most people have come to the conclusion I don't have feelings."
"Why's that?"
"Because they know me."
I swallow hard. Oh God, here I am grilling a man I've only just met. I decide to get back on course and ask another question from the list.
"Would you consider yourself to be spontaneous?"
When I look up I see a wide grin on his face. I feel myself blush at the sight of it.
"No. I like order. I like to have a plan for everything."
"Sounds kinda controlling," I murmur.
"Yes," he replies as he holds out the 's'. "It is. Control is an integral part of everything I do."
I have an intense urge to roll my eyes but refrain.
"Control can bring a level of satisfaction one isn't aware until they experience it."
A shiver involuntarily runs up my spine. One moment he's speaking about supplying the world with water, the next he's talking about controlling everything. I fidget in my chair.
"You were raised by your father until the age of ten before you were adopted," I read from the paper, "how do you think this has impacted your charity work?"
"I don't know. You'd have to ask my parents," he says in a clipped tone.
"Do you have a large family?"
"I have my parents and a younger sister, which is more than enough."
"Mr. Bates, are you gay?"
His nose flares briefly before I look away. Great, Gwen! Just great! Why does she even want to know this?
"No, Anna May, I am not gay."
He looks pissed. His eyes feel like they scorch mine when I look back at him.
"Sorry, Mr. Bates. It was one of Gwen's questions."
"How do you know Miss Dawson?" he asks quickly.
"We're flatmates. She also went to university together."
"I assume you studied art?"
"I did."
"Did you have any other questions?"
I instantly look back to list and decide not to ask anymore. I've more than likely upset him and took enough of his time as it is.
"No," I say as I look back up.
"What a question to end on, Miss Smith," he says as he stands.
I feel my body flush pink from embarrassment. What a horrible interview. I only hope Gwen can salvage some of it.
I turn off the recorder and place it in my purse. I sling the purse onto my shoulder and take the notepad and file into my grip as I stand.
He rounds the desk and stands in front of me. I feel a bit dizzy as I look up to meet his gaze which is intense and firm.
"Do you currently work somewhere?"
"I'm working out of my flat until something turns up."
"Like what?"
"Either a position in a gallery or until I can afford to open of my own."
"Do you make enough to sustain yourself?"
What? What's it to him?
"I do just fine, Mr. Bates. If you'll excuse me, I've taken up too much of your time as it is."
"Do be careful riding back to..."
"Hackney."
He gives me a surprised look. "Not too far from here then."
I shake my head.
"Did you take the underground?" His voice is demanding.
"I did."
His face hardens as though he disapproves.
"Please be careful."
Okayyyyyy.
He reaches his hand out towards me, and I shake it lightly. I feel a warmth spill through me.
We drop our hands, and he walks me out of his office.
"Is there anything you may need before you leave?" he asks as we reach the lifts.
"Ummm... I don't believe so," I reply with uncertainty.
I press the button on the wall to call the lift. When the doors open I walk inside quickly. I feel as though I can't get enough air in my lungs, and I am not sure why I feel this way. I turn to see him with his hands in his pockets and his eyes strictly on mine. He's handsome, so very handsome. Why does he keep looking at me that way, and why do I feel a stirring by it?
"Anna May," he grins as the lift doors close.