AN: Hi hey there hello here's another chapter. I'm writing the next one right now (hopefully I can keep a back log of chapters so I don't just disappear again with no updates). Also, please review, even if it's super rude or whatever – I just want to know what people are thinking concerning the story. Thanks

Listening to:

Do I Wanna Know? (Arctic Monkeys)


CPOV

I spent the rest of the day doing nothing but thinking of one Anastasia Steele. I tried, truly I did, to not think of her and to do something productive but everything I did just brought me back to her. I couldn't answer emails without wondering what hers was. I couldn't eat lunch without wanting to eat it off her naked body.

I call Welch, my head of security at GEH, and ask him to run a background check on her. I don't even try to make up a reason for wanting it; I just tell him to get it done ASAP and head home.

Taylor eyes me in the rearview mirror as we make our way through the Seattle streets. I know he's curious about my mood. I mean I'm not Mr. Predictable when it comes to my emotions, far from it, but my current disposition is exceptionally strange, even for me.

I'm completely confused. I've yet to decide how I'm going to contact Anastasia – or if I'm going to do it at all. A part of me is hoping that I'll wake up tomorrow and her allure will have passed, but I know that it won't. For one, I'd have to actually sleep tonight, and sleep doesn't come easily for me. Secondly, her jacket is currently sitting inside my briefcase. I folded it six times before placing it inside. Six times because I don't fucking know how to fold a woman's jacket and simply stuffing it inside the case seemed wrong and disrespectful somehow – as if the jacket would tell Anastasia how rudely I had treated it and then she would never look my way again.

You sound fucking insane Grey. It's a fucking jacket – it can't talk you idiot.

I know I sound insane, and it's precisely because of this insanity that I know I will see her again. I have to. I folded her fucking jacket six times for Christ's sake – this obviously isn't going to be a passing fascination. I need to figure her out – understand why she captivates me, and then I'll be cleansed of her and whatever magic she's weaving.

"Sir, we've arrived," Taylor says, and I realize I've not been paying attention to the car ride at all – I've just been staring at my briefcase the entire time.

"I won't be needing anything else tonight Taylor. I will see you at 6 am for our run," I say as I walk inside the elevator while Taylor takes the service elevator at the back of the parking garage. I'm itching to get this jacket out of my briefcase and inspect it a second time, but I know I won't find anything new. This woman is confounding and I just want some understanding of who she is.

Why do you even care? You've never cared about the personal lives of your subs. What makes this woman any different? She's definitely not submissive material. That smart mouth wouldn't last two seconds in the playroom and you know it.

I ignore my logical side and focus on the numbers slowly climbing up on the elevator panel – thinking of her scent and how I want it wrapped around my body.

The elevator dings, indicating its arrival at my floor and I step off into the foyer. As always, there's a large vase filled with white flowers, some type of lily I believe, artfully arranged by Gail. I can't help wondering what Anastasia would think of the flower choice. Does she like flowers? Of course she does – every girl likes flowers right? I'll have to ask Mia what flowers she likes best to get a better sense in case I ever want to give some to Anastasia…

Flowers? Now even Mr. Rogers is fucking laughing at you, you sappy emotional prick.

Well shit, seriously why am I thinking about buying this girl flowers? I don't even really know her! Even if I did, I've never bought flowers for any of the women I've fucked. I've only sent flowers to my mother and to Mia for their birthdays but even then, I always have Andrea pick the arrangements because I couldn't give less of a shit about a pile of plants tied together with a bow. I have better things to do with my time.

I walk into the apartment and give a quick nod to Gail as a sorry excuse for a "hello" and head to my office but turn around before I've gotten there. I go back to the kitchen and tell Gail that I am not to be disturbed. I tell her I have work, but in all honesty, I just have some intense jacket inspecting to do.

"Would you like me to knock when dinner is ready, Sir? Or just leave it in the oven?" she asks casually, as if I care about dinner right now! I have to repeatedly check my email until I get Anastasia Steele's background check! I have to look up how to fold women's jackets properly! But I can't say that to Gail, so I just tell her to leave dinner in the oven and I'll grab it when I'm done. I tell her she will not be needed for the rest of the night once dinner is finished.

I try to walk at a normal pace to my office so as to not seem overly suspicious to Gail, but give up and half run with my briefcase in hand. I clear off the desk in my office and make sure there is no dirt on it – her jacket would surely tell her if I placed it on a dirty surface.

Crazy City, population: YOU.

I open my briefcase carefully and take out Anastasia's jacket, unfolding it in the process. All at once, I'm hit with her amazing scent as it explodes from every thread of the garment. I sit down and lay it gently on top of my desk.

And I just sit there – staring at it.

I wonder where she bought it.

What does she like to wear it with?

Does she even know she left it behind?

I look through the pockets again and find a hidden slit on the inside of the jacket. A piece of paper is folded up inside of the secret pocket. I unfold the paper and find that it's actually several pieces of paper filled with Katherine Kavanagh's interview questions. I read through them and see that most of the questions are crossed out. Anastasia obviously didn't like her friend's questions very much, but I can imagine the tenacious Miss Kavanagh will be upset that only a couple of her questions got answered.

I could answer them now and email them to Kavanagh. It's not like I have anything else to do but wait around for Welch to email me the background check. And it would make me look like a nice guy, something I'm sure Miss Steele doesn't believe I am. If I could get in her good graces by seeming like a caring person, maybe she won't freak out when I casually "run into her" to give her back her jacket… That could work!

Yea sure, that doesn't sound completely fake and also COMPLETELY PSYCHOTIC.

Whatever, I'm doing it. It couldn't hurt to keep my name in the conversation right? As I start on the questions, I realize why Anastasia didn't ask them – they're either exceptionally boring or outrageously intrusive.

What motivates me? Give me a fucking break.

My favorite movie? This is some puff piece bullshit attempt at humanizing me and I don't fucking like it. Who cares what movies I like? I can't even remember the last time I watched a movie.

Am I gay? God fucking damn it, Kavanagh. Good thing Anastasia didn't ask me that question during the interview. I would have been all too happy to show her how not gay I am. I can just imagine her asking me that question and realizing just a moment too late what she had said. That blush would color every inch of her flawless skin and I'd pounce. I'd claim her mouth with mine and devour her body until she begged me to give her more. I'd go slow, making sure she felt every inch of me. She'd scratch at my skin, pull on my hair, pleading with me to give it to her hard, but I would continue torturing her with my glacial pace. I'd feel her fingernails digging into my shoulders and I'd relish the bite of pain it inflicted.

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING? God damn touching?! Since when do you let women fucking touch you?! Pull it together you son of a bitch!

Dear god, what the fuck was that? Why would I want that? Why am I fantasizing about having sex with this woman without restraints? Why am I fantasizing about sex? Not even fucking, but pure vanilla sex? Why did I like the idea of her touching my bare skin?

You're fantasizing about vanilla sex because you know she won't be your submissive – that girl is NOT SUBMISSIVE. So you're pretending like you can do a normal relationship when you know you can't. Don't be ridiculous. You know who you are. Stop wasting your time on this girl.

Somehow, the voice starts to sound like Elena and I know that I need to ignore my thoughts. Even after all the breakthroughs with Flynn this past year, I still hear her nagging, manipulative voice in my head – telling me I'm not good enough. But unlike a year ago, I can ignore that bitch and her lies. I'm Christian Grey and I can do whatever the fuck I want. If I want to pursue this girl, I can. If she says she won't be a submissive, then I can try something different.

I just have to remember to not be creepy about it. And I can't be overly controlling. And I have to keep my mood in check.

And you actually have to fucking talk to her first. Maybe you should start there.

After sending my answers to Katherine Kavanagh, I get up to grab my dinner. I need to clear my head a little bit. I still haven't gotten the background check from Welch and I'm growing impatient. I'm about to just email Kavanagh myself and ask her about Anastasia but I won't because… well, because that's creepy and far too desperate. I have to at least appear as a non-pathetic person. But I don't like to be kept waiting.

Finally, a ping on my computer signals that I have a response from Welch. Took the fucker long enough.

**taken directly from E.L. James' book Grey (my changes/additions are underlined)**

ANASTASIA ROSE STEELE

DOB:

Sept. 10, 1989, Montesano, WA

Address:

1114 SW Green Street, Apartment 7,

Haven Heights, Vancouver, WA 98888

Mobile No:

360-959-4352

Social Security No:

987-65-4320

Bank:

Wells Fargo Bank, Vancouver, WA:

Acct. No.: 309361: $48,322.59 balance

Occupation:

Undergraduate Student – full-ride scholarship

WSU Vancouver College of Arts and Sciences

English Major

WSU Vancouver Carson College of Business

Business Administration Major

GPA:

4.0

Prior Education:

Montesano Jr. Sr. High School

SAT Score:

2150

Employment:

Clayton's Hardware Store,

NW Vancouver Drive, Portland, OR (part-time)

Father:

Franklin A. Lambert, DOB: Sept. 1, 1969,

Deceased Sept. 11, 1989

Mother:

Carla May Wilks Adams,

DOB: July 18, 1970

m. Frank Lambert: March 1, 1989,

Widowed: Sept. 11, 1989

m. Raymond Steele: June 6, 1990,

Divorced: July 12, 2006

m. Stephen M. Morton: Aug. 16, 2006,

Divorced: Jan. 31, 2007

m. Bob Adams: April 6, 2009

Political Affiliations:

None Found

Religious Affiliations:

None Found

Sexual Orientation:

Not Known

Relationships:

None Indicated at Present

Fuck, she's smart and she's working? Why is she working anyways? She has more than enough in her bank account to cover student expenses, especially since she has a full ride. And she's pursuing two majors? And has a 4.0? Who is this woman?

She's way out of your league, Grey.

I sigh, knowing that this woman is far too good for me, but I know I won't be able to let her go, not just yet. I need to see if this attraction is one-sided; please don't let it be just me.

I look over the report again and again; I chuckle at her middle name and think back to my flower conundrum. I'm sure she'd be embarrassed receiving her namesake flower, so I'll have to think of something else if I go down that road. I'm not quite sure how to woo this woman. But she ran out of my office so quickly, I'm sure I must have done something to upset her. I've never had to convince anyone to spend time with me before in this sort of way – it's always been spelled out beforehand.

But why do you care so much? She doesn't need to like you. Fucking requires attraction, not fondness.

Maybe this whole situation will make more sense in the morning. I fold her jacket neatly after watching several tutorials on YouTube – thank god they have tutorials for everything on there because I have no fucking clue how to properly fold clothing. I bring the garment to my face one more time, inhaling her fresh, enticing scent and then carefully place it back inside my briefcase to keep it safe.

Safe from what? The fucking elements? Of your apartment? You're a fucking imbecile.

That night, I fall asleep thinking of piercing blue eyes and dream of soft lips and a high pain tolerance. I awake more refreshed than I have in a long time and it's in that moment of clarity that I know I need to see Anastasia Steele again.

I need to make her mine.


AN: Ana's POV will be coming online sometime this week. Or earlier depending on the amount of wine I drink.

Please review – even if it's just to tell me you don't like something. How will I be able to fix it if I don't know what needs fixing?

xoxo

VVS