Tell Me...

3

Monday came too quickly though two whole days had passed since the "Interview", Olivia thought that their conversation barely qualified, and to attempt to stop her hands from shaking so much she decided to do some laundry while she waited for the sun to rise. It had been four-thirty when she had checked her bedside alarm clock, a time she would have never considered a wake-up time before, but after suffering the nightmare she had last night she wanted nothing more than to get up and going.

Her nightmare had been in a dark, crimson place, maybe a dungeon, and her tormenter had been standing over her as she knelt on the floor at their feet. The being had been holding something in its hands, a book or something thinner, she couldn't quite see but it made a slapping sound on its palm as it tapped the object against it. She remembered how the fear made her feel sick, frightened and queasy, and knew that was why she felt so unwell. If she could have called in sick she would have, but it did not seem prudent to miss her first day.

She remembered thinking on Friday that it was a shame that a whole two days had to pass before she could see him again, but now on Monday she dreaded it. She wished she had an alternative. Usually she enjoyed weekends because she could relax, but how could she relax when everytime she thought of him her body grew tense. It could have been because of the lust he brought out in her, but the sensation of her chest seemingly crushing her heart spoke of something else entirely.

Fear? Why would she be frightened of Christian Grey just because of a dream she had had—he had done nothing but what any other person would do upon meeting someone for the first time. He seemed nice enough, with brilliantly white teeth and a handsome face, though she knew from experience that these things did not always equal a nice human being, but there was something about him that she did not trust. The woman, Andrea, had seemed content enough with her job there, but at the same time Olivia had sensed a kind of desperation to please. Was there some kind of penalty for not behaving like this man was a god in human form?

What has she gotten herself into? She wondered, taking the last piece of clothing out of the dryer and folding it neatly on top. After losing thirty-or-so jobs, she had been absolutely thrilled to know she'd gotten the placement so quickly after applying.. but now? How could she know what horrors might lay in wait for her there? She lifted the clothes into the basket and began climbing the stairs out of the basement.

In her previous house, already that place was fading from her memory, she had had the washer and dryer in the same room as the fridge, which made more sense in her mind, but she did not feel brave enough to move them up from below. She could have hired someone to do it for her, but the idea of some stranger working down there gave her the chills.

At six o'clock, just as the first rays of sun shone over the horizon, she grabbed a bowl from one of cabinets in her new kitchen and tipped a tiny portion into it with some skimmed milk. She did not really feel like eating, but it was a habbit that refused to be broken. She sat at the breakfast bar and tried not to think about her day ahead at Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc. She did not mind the work, but seeing him again... she did mind that very much. Would she be able to hold it together—her self-control?

As his Personal Assistant, she had to be there waiting for him in the mornings, and she almost ran the short distance to the large office building in her haste to make a good first-impression. They counted, right? First impressions? It was times like these that she could have used a car, but the expense seemed like a waste of Money. If she could get to a place without having to pay tax or pay for petrol, why would she choose another way of getting around?

She stumbled through the doors on legs that seemed to be about to buckle beneath her and searched around her for any clue about where she should go next. Andrea hadn't arrived yet, so there would be no help from her or anyone else, but maybe she was glad about that; she wanted to make a good first impression, and looking like a clutz would not help her at all. She straightened and approached the door at the centre of the far wall, praying thay it would be the right one, hoping to see anyone on the other side.

The door opened and she saw a room furnished only with a desk and two chairs, one on either side. She stepped farther into the nearly empty room, and thought to herself that she would have expected a man as rich and powerful as she knew Mr Grey to be to have an office with a bit more personality. She was just about to take her leave when a hand, more than big enough to cover her entire shoulder, stopped her before she could unfreeze herself from this position.

"What are you doing here?" Asked a masculine voice, low enough that her ears had to strain to hear it.

Damn, she thought, my first day and I'm already in trouble with security.

She couldn't turn to him, but she could speak quietly, too. "I—I came for... I work here..." Or atleast, she thought she worked here now. Had she misunderstood his meaning when Christian spoke to her?

"Your desk is upstairs," the man told her softly, his tongue doing strange things to the words.

Her heart, which had already been hammering in her chest, almost stopped. "Christian—Sir?"

"I'll show you the way this time, but I don't think you will get lost again." His voice was brusk, and instantly he had made her feel two inches tall. It was impossible to know for sure what he was thinking without her being able to see his face, but the way he gripped her arm made her wonder if already she had angered him somehow. She almost told him that if there had been signs to direct her around this place she would have easily found her way on her own, but it was almost as if the words were stuck in her throat, needing permission to be spoken. Maybe this was a mistake, after all.

He led her to the second floor and opened a door into an office that made the one downstairs look like a joke. Whereas the room below had been stripped of any style, this room was filled with it, but still there was no personality, no clue that could have given her an idea of who this man was, or what interested him. Something had to drive a man to be so successful, didn't it?

"This is where you will be working. There," now he pointed at closed double doors across the generous reception where she would work now, "that is my office."

Why was he speaking to her as if she had done something wrong? She wanted to make a good impression, but the way he spoke to her, as if she was nothing but a thing, put her nerves on edge.

"Maybe this is not the—"

Christian moved away from her in such a harsh movement that she was stopped mid-sentence. He ran his large hands through his hair and held the back of his head with them. "Why don't you just give it a try?" He said through clenched teeth, obviously flustered by her lack of enthusiasm about working with him.

She nodded her head, keeping her eyes downcast, feeling as though it would be a great crime if she did not make him happy. As she made her way to the desk, she felt him watching her and wondered what he saw, and what he imagined working with her would be like.

TBC