Thank you guys so much. Hope you enjoy this one :) Sorry if you were waiting to see Ana take up his suggestion on the clothes, she will do it next chapter. :) I never expected such encouragement for the story, so I'm very humbled. As usual, please do tell me your thoughts, as I love knowing them (or any suggestions you have, if any). Thank you! :)
Chapter 3
After Mr. Grey's coffee is made in the staff lunch area, I make my way back down the corridor to where his office is, gripping the mug carefully in both hands so I don't spill it, something I know he won't like to happen. He says that I haven't been "bad enough" for whatever happened before to happen again, and, for some inexplicable reason beyond me, I find myself hoping for it to happen again- something that a sane, full-grown woman shouldn't be wanting. I don't know what's wrong with me. Maybe I'm crazy? Or maybe... it doesn't even matter what I am?
As I reach the door to his office, I stop and take a moment to breathe deeply. Usually I'm never this nervous, because I always seem to know what I'm expecting with Mr. Grey. But today, all my expectations have seemed to have blown straight out of his high office window. Shaking my head to clear it of any thoughts, I shoulder my way into his office, finding him sitting behind his desk again in his leather recliner.
My hands shake and I feel hot coffee spilling over my fingers as I catch his gaze and hold it while I tread slowly towards his desk. Mr. Grey has always had this intense and serious way of staring at someone, as if he's willing you silently to spill the beans; A stare that I usually didn't let affect me. But as I look into his eyes, I see what happened all over again, with me leaning over his desk rereading my typed paper and Mr. Grey closely behind me, and it makes me feel increasingly embarrassed and flustered. I'm clueless; I have no idea how to deal with a situation like this. I don't know whether to act normal, or to just forget about it, threaten to sue his ass or- what?
"Here's your coffee, Mr. Grey." Much to my relief, my voice sounds normal. At least I have that working in my favor. "Exactly the way you like and expect it."
He stands from his chair while smoothing down his red tie with his hand, but he doesn't say anything. He simply watches me as I ceremoniously plunk the mug of coffee down in the middle of his modern, dark-wood desk.
Mr. Grey never says 'Please' or 'Thank you'. He rarely ever does, not to me or any of the other employees, and it doesn't seem to be the way he operates. He probably believes since he is boss and he pays us, he is above and beyond all that. So I'm not holding out for it to happen now just because I've obeyed him in bringing in a freshly made coffee for him.
"Is there anything else you need while I'm here, Mr. Grey?"
"No, that will be all," he says in a soft and curt manner, clearly dismissing me from the room.
As he squeezes past me to get comfortably seated into his chair again, he brushes up against me, and I feel my entire body stiffen in anticipation. The fact I'm dying for something to happen between us again- it's ridiculous. Realistically, I shouldn't feel this way. Christian Grey is my boss. But above all that, he's been giving me hell the past three months since I first started working for him. I'm supposed to hate him. Well, hate may possibly be a strong word because I know he has given me such an amazing opportunity in working for him and getting a steady income.
But he's an arse...
A bossy control-freak.
Just a couple of minutes ago, he had the audacity to tell me I look as if I'm dressed for a funeral. I ought to be super pissed-off, and frankly, I am. But why the sudden dramatic change in my feelings for him?
"I hope you will follow through on my suggestion, Miss. Steele," he says, tearing me out of my thoughts.
For a second there I don't understand what he means. And then I do, just like that.
And he was really just starting to grow on me...
"Don't count on it," I grumble under my breath. "You have no right."
I see him shift in his chair, leaning closer as if to hear me more clearly, "Excuse me?" The tone of his voice tells me he is not at all pleased. Well, too bad. I'm really not here to make him happy. When it comes to my work duties, yes. But aside from that, no.
"I found your suggestion unnecessary, sir," I say truthfully, since I know there is no way I can dig myself out of this hole I've started digging for myself, "Not to mention inappropriate. You are my boss, yes, but I don't feel that gives you the right to dictate what I wear or what I don't wear to work. It was an inappropriate remark, bordering on harassment."
I glance quickly at his face to see how he's taking that. His mouth falls open, but with some effort, he closes it back up again.
"I did not realize it would be interpreted that way," he mutters quietly, through gritted teeth. "I merely meant it as-"
I interrupt him, "You've been commenting on the way I've dressed ever since I started working for you. The skirt I once wore, it was shorter than the one I'm wearing now, and you said it was unsuitable for work?"
"Well, it was."
"Half of the other staff here wear cocktail dresses, outfits you expect to see worn to college frat parties, and yet you don't pull them out on it, Mr. Grey."
"Maybe that's because it's different with them."
"Oh, how so?" I demand, looking him directly in the eye.
I relish the expression on his face as he stumbles around on how to give me a reasonable and valid answer on that one. It's obvious he doesn't have one for me; He cocks his head to the side, glancing around his office before meeting my gaze again. "I don't have the answer to that, Miss. Steele. I suppose I..." He hesitates for a moment, bringing an elbow up to rest it on the arm of his chair, stroking around his chin in deliberation. "I suppose I don't like it."
"Like what?" Boy, do I love putting him in a hard and difficult corner with my questions. Let's see how he wheedles his way out of this one...
"The... idea of you dressing like that, for anyone. Not without being told to first, at least."
Told to first? My body quivers as a rush of heat gushes up to my face. Is he daring to say what I think he's saying?
"I'm not a little girl, Mr. Grey."
His eyes burn into mine, forcing me to stare back challengingly for all its worth. "Oh, I'm aware of that, Miss. Steele. Believe me."
"I don't need anybody telling me what I can or can't do, least of all you. Why are you like this?"
"What am I like?" He asks, his eyes searching my face. He sounds surprised. Anxious even.
"A control-freak. Do you get off on bossing people around?"
A deep chuckle gets caught in his throat, as he struggles to maintain a straight face. "That's a stupid question, of course I do. It's why I make a good boss. I'm unashamed of it, I can't be afraid of making orders otherwise I would be a failure at it. It's what I need to do, otherwise time management would be poor around here and nothing would be done. I'm a firm believer in regimented, structured routines. But that is how I have to be in my position of authority."
"Have you always been like this?"
"I have, yes." He smiles slightly, but there's a faraway and distant look in his eyes as he stares up at me. "I remember, when I was six or seven, I was watching the cartoon network and there was this scene where Roadrunner was tied to the train tracks by rope. He couldn't get free; He was completely helpless and constricted. It was fascinating. I like the idea of... total control. I suppose you could say I was born to be boss. I like everything to be running smoothly. Control is... safe." Somehow I get the impression he isn't merely talking about his working life, but rather his personal life, or at least one aspect of a fantasy he has. Not really sure which, or why this even suddenly came into our conversation. I never asked him about which cartoons he loved to watch as a little boy, did I?
We lapse into a silence while I stand around his desk. I can't help but feel somewhat glad I know more about my boss. I'm learning a bit more. I don't really understand much, though, but it does help to know him a bit more on a personal level.
And I'm supposed to be working right now, not chatting...
"I really should be getting back to work," I tell him apologetically, backing away slowly. "Sorry. I shouldn't be, uh, hanging around. I hope you enjoy your coffee."
"I'm sure I will," he says quietly.
I take it as my cue to leave, but then another question comes at me. I realize I have never spoken to Mr. Grey before, least of all about his personal life, or what he is like outside of work. I don't even know how old he truly is, or whether he has a girlfriend. Wouldn't she be mad to know what he did to me while I was leaning over his desk? If I was his girlfriend, I sure would be to know he's dry-humping other women on the job.
"Are you gay, Mr. Grey?" The question comes out of my mouth without any sense. I know it's incredibly rude to ask, but somehow my mouth doesn't seem to care. He has never mentioned anything about a significant other, nor given the impression he's a taken man.
There's a terrible noise as he chokes on his mouthful of coffee. He makes a noise a mixture between a cough and an annoyed grunt as he wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. "Excuse me?"
"What? It's a valid question. I mean, there's... nothing wrong with being gay."
"Do I look gay to you, Miss. Steele?" He doesn't look happy by my asking one bit. Well, good. I'm glad.
"Well, I don't know. Personally I don't think anyone can look gay. I don't believe you can work out someone's sexual preference simply by looking at them."
"No, I am one-hundred percent heterosexual, if that's what you're asking?"
"Oh." Well, everything is great now that he has cleared that up. "And, do you have a... a girlfriend?"
"No. Never had one."
What? He's never had a girlfriend?
"Never?" I repeat in shock.
"Never," he repeats vehemently. "Why the sudden interest?"
"Oh, no reason. I'm just trying to figure my boss out a bit more." I know I should leave and get to work, but I'm sincerely curious. "But... why not? Why have you never had a girlfriend?" I mean, he's an asshole. But he's still attractive enough that it might make up for it in some women's eyes.
"I'm not the dating type. And besides, even if I was, I don't think a woman could stand being around me."
In some ways he isn't wrong there...
"Somehow I don't find that very hard to believe," I laugh, forgetting my manners. Oh, God. How rude of me.
"I beg your pardon, Miss. Steele?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I don't mean to offend you. It's just that... you are a very difficult man to deal with. Speaking from an employees perspective, of course."
"And do you have a boyfriend, Miss. Steele?" he asks me, his voice clipped and rather rude in tone. I have definitely succeeded in offending him. "Are you seeing anyone currently?"
I don't know why he is bothering to ask me, but maybe he's just asking out of general curiosity because I've asked him?
"No, Sir. I'm not dating anybody." I have a male friend, Jose, who I know is interested in me romantically, or so my best friend Kate tells me. But it's one-sided, and I'm not interested in anything happening with him in that way. I've known Jose since we were six years old.
"Do you like women?"
Er, all right. So I deserve that. "No. I... suppose I just haven't found the right person for me yet."
"Then we're not all that different after all, are we?"
Me and Mr. Grey? Alike? "Oh, I think we're very different, Mr. Grey." For one thing, he's a control-freak and really rude, whereas I like to think I'm not. Plus, I'm fairly certain he's loaded with money. The car he brings to work is a jet-black Lamborghini. I think he does it on purpose because he likes to be noticed and he wants everyone to know he is richer than they will ever be. "We couldn't be two more different people. We're... polar opposites."
"And sometimes that works," he says, leaning back in his chair. "Sometimes two people can make the perfect combination."
Oh okay. So what is he trying to say?
"Is there anything else I can get you before I leave?"
He gives me a weird look as he takes in my clothes again. Then he shrugs and sighs, shaking his head disdainfully. "For the hundredth time, no, that will be all, Miss. Steele. But just consider my suggestion. You might be surprised at what a few bright colors can do to your figure."
"Duly noted," I tell him with an insincere smile.
"And if you don't take my suggestion seriously and show up to work tomorrow looking as I asked, I'll have to bend you over my knee." The comment is so quiet I almost think I've imagined him saying that. When I stop stock-still and throw a quick glance over my shoulder, Mr. Grey has his nose buried in his papers productively.
No. Must be wishful thinking...
As the day goes on, it's the same old routine. When my fifteen minute lunch break arrives, I head into the staff area and retrieve the latest book I'm reading out of my bag. I'm a big reader, and I consider my book collection my most prized possession. Kate calls me antisocial because usually I prefer to stay indoors reading rather than partying or heading out on blind dates with her. If that makes me antisocial then too bad. I don't care.
I like to spend my lunch break at my desk, reading while having a cup of tea. So that's what I do.
I'm just getting settled in my seat comfortably and finding the page I'm up to, when it occurs to me that Mr. Grey is watching me through the glass window of his office. I don't think he realizes I can see him doing it, but he's staring right intently at me while rubbing the side of his face with his hand. It's as if I'm a wild and exotic creature he can't figure out. Weird. Just to break the ice, I smile at him, almost a rude sneer. It seems to do the trick because he glances away quickly, focusing on the stapler on his desk again. Fortunately for me, the looks end there. I have no idea why he was staring for.
Three hours later, we all get ready to leave for the day.
I make sure my desk is neat and orderly, tuck in my chair, then go to collect my jacket.
I find Mr. Grey all set and ready to leave by the elevator, fixing up his red tie and tucking his shirttail into his trousers neatly. Preening. Usually he's already long gone by this time of the afternoon but he seems to be taking his sweet, sweet time today. I can't help but gather the impression he's waiting for me to talk privately, because I overhear he tells Andrea, another one of the women I work with, to hurry her ass up authoritatively before the elevator doors squish her.
I'm pretty confident Andrea has the hots for him - the only woman who could.
The elevator doors open and then I have no choice but to ride it with him.
Wonderful.
I ignore him as much as I'm able to as I step in, inching to the wall furthest from him like he's a man carrying a contagious disease. Of course, he notices.
"Is there a reason you're huddled in the corner, Anastasia?"
There's something in his tone. But I won't look at his face, nor give him the satisfaction. Don't. No.
There he goes, calling me my actual first name again. Why does it have to sound so good, coming from his voice?
"No," I whisper.
"Do elevators make you nervous?"
"No." But this change you've brought out of me has.
"Then why are you standing so far away?"
"Because I can." I allow myself one fleeting glance, discovering he's watching me speculatively. One hand is deep in his trouser pocket, while the other plays with the tail of his striped tie absently. "Why do you care?"
He shrugs, "I don't."
He licks his lips, moistening them, and for some reason I find it distracting. Out of nowhere, I see his tongue all over me. His mouth. Why is he so hot to me all of a sudden? Disturbing.
"Did you manage to get everything I wanted done today?" Grey asks bluntly.
"Most of it, yeah."
"Are you sure?" His tone turns insultingly skeptical. "Everything?"
I feign coyness. "Are you doubting my capabilities, Sir?" Asswipe.
Mr. Grey's face darkens dangerously. "There is no need to address me in that manner," he hisses quietly. "I have the right to ask about these things. I need to know."
"Then don't address me that way either."
He stares me down, but I don't look away. He might intimidate people to get what he wants but I refuse to be one of them. Just my luck, we reach the ground floor and he finally turns away from me as the elevator opens. Huffing under my breath, I dash hurriedly out towards the entrance, bashing my shoulder into his elbow. It's raining heavily outside the building. Thank goodness I brought my jacket and umbrella with me today. Mr. Grey is hot on my heels.
"How are you getting home? Do you live near here?"
There's no way in hell I'm telling him where I live. He's my boss and I know realistically it's safe for him to know, he's no rapist or murderer but still, no way. I live with Kate and our house is messy. I don't want him thinking he's entitled to look around my house or enter my bedroom.
"I have an umbrella. I'm fine."
"You walk to work?" He's outraged, when really it's none of his beeswax. "Why don't you have a car to get yourself here? You're a big girl, aren't you? Shouldn't you have a car by now?"
"Well, unlike some people, we can't afford expensive cars."
"I'll drop you home then," he says, sounding determined on doing that. "My car is just-"
"No," I murmur loudly. "Just no. I appreciate the offer but no. Thank you."
When I glance up at him, I realize he looks deeply offended by my flat-out refusal. His mouth parts and I get the terrible feeling he is about to raise his voice at me, but instead, he takes the smart option in order not to get my quick defenses up around him. He nods curtly, turns on his heel, and walks away briskly.