Prologue
My name is Anastasia Rose Steele, and I'm superhuman. There, that probably grabbed your attention. If you're still reading this, then allow me to elaborate.
Just to be absolutely clear, I'm not being immodest. I can do things ordinary people can't, and I have a lot more power than should be allowed for any one person. Just one of my 'gifts' would have set me a cut above my fellow man. All of them combined… I honestly scare myself, sometimes. What makes me different, you ask?
First off, I'm smart. Freakishly smart. 'Limitless' smart. I was speaking in complete sentences before my second birthday. I read Principia Mathematica in the first grade and understood it. I can repeat a conversation I had with you six months ago verbatim, and remind you what you were wearing at the time. I can multitask; I don't mean juggle two or three simple things like a normal person, I can literally read two different books, one with each eye, while carrying a conversation with you simultaneously. And don't get me started on my skill at strategy games, chess and Go against the computer at its hardest setting was boring to me.
Secondly, my body is strange. I'm stronger than my size should explain, able to pick up furniture while I was still a toddler. And anything physical just seems easier to me than the average person. I seem able to pick up anything involving movement just by observing someone else do it. For example, I saw a production of Swan Lake on television once and was able to perfectly recreate the dancers' moves for my astonished parents. Plus there were other things. I could warm up with a half marathon and not get out of breath, my physical endurance is ridiculous. I climbed into a friend's treehouse once and jumped back to the ground; I barely even felt it. I drank bleach once and I wasn't even a little sick. On a dare, I once held my finger in a candle fire and I lasted a minute before my friends freaked out and told me to stop it. I never seemed to break skin or bones, or really suffer from any type of injury no matter the circumstances.
And it only gets weirder from there.
My senses, based on what I've heard about everyone else's subjective experience, are cranked up to 11 and include a few add-ons. I can see heat. I can hear radio in my ears like there was an antenna in my brain. I have a nose like a bloodhound, able to pick up people's locations, what they ate, and who they'd been near so long as I was downwind of them. I once literally counted the eyebrows on my teacher's face from the back row. I could break down every ingredient in a product with one bite, and probably tell you the quality or origins of each one if I was familiar with them.
I'm a telepath. Yeah, you read that right. I can pick up a stream of consciousness just by being near a person, though my familiarity with the mind seems to affect my range. And once I reached puberty, I developed a second medium. If I touch someone's skin, I'm able to read their mind like our brains were computers and mine was downloading a file from theirs to mine. A person's whole life, their every waking thought, copied within a second of physical contact.
My dreams are prophetic. Don't get me wrong, sometimes I dream of a gorilla quoting Hamlet to a purple dolphin in drag and other random crap. But then I have dreams that feel like I'm awake, doing normal things and I'll see or hear something, and sure enough the exact same scene seems to recreate itself eventually in my waking life down to every last detail. I don't know if I'm accessing some higher plane, a god is sending me visions, or if my sleeping brain could just crunch game theory to predict the future, but the fact is I often get a spoiler alert before things actually happen to me or the world at large.
And finally, saving the best for last here, I'm telekinetic. It's exhausting, using much more energy than just picking something up with my actual body, but I can move things with just my mind. Given I'm 5'2, this makes grabbing things from the top shelf much less of a hassle, but naturally I try not to do it where people can see.
Keep all that in mind, imagine all of that crammed into one person. And remember that, in every other way, I'm just like you. I didn't get a cheat sheet or instruction manual, I had to figure this shit called life out over time like everyone else. It's not nearly as much fun as you'd expect.
What caused all this? Well, my mom didn't drink radioactive waste during her pregnancy, so safe bet it's genetic and has to do with my unknown father. My mom, Carla, didn't get his name, she was pretty drunk when they hooked up and she ended up missing her next period. She was never able to track him down after, so I have almost nothing to go on. I don't know if he was divine and I'm a demigod, a time traveler from a future where humanity had evolved to a higher form, or if he was an alien in disguise. But unless he was normal and God decided to just randomly rewrite my DNA while in utero, it probably traces back to him.
Now that you have a decent background, let's dive into the story of how I met the man who changed my life…
Ch. 1
I woke up as soon as Kate opened the door, but I pretended to stay asleep until she shook my shoulder to avoid alarming her. She was my best friend, but I had no intention of ever revealing my freakishness to her if I could avoid it. The only two people who knew everything I could do, every way I was different, were Ray and Carla, and Carla actively tried to forget or deny it when it came up. I lucked out that Ray loved me like a daughter, oddities and all, but I wasn't ready to risk it with my sister from another mister.
"Ana? Please wake up. I'm too sick to make breakfast," she groaned, sounding very nasal from her bout of influenza.
"You're up and out of bed aren't you? You're just a lazy, spoiled bitch and want me to be your free maid." My words lacked any real heat. I adored Kate, and I was happy to do the chores, all the cooking and cleaning, even when she was in perfect health. With her incapacitated, the urge to swaddle her and attend to her every need until she was better was overpowering. I loved taking care of the people I cared about, I don't know where it came from. It was possible I was overcompensating because I didn't have many friends growing up because I kept freaking other kids out until I learned how to hide what I was.
"Pretty please?" Kate begged, sounding utterly miserable. She sneezed into the sleeve of her hoodie.
"Well, since you said pretty please," I sighed, getting out of bed.
I made us both a nutritious breakfast, enjoying the local classical music station while also tuning into Kate's thoughts. I plated the omelets and fresh cut fruit before offering her one along with cutlery. Kate moaned. "Remind me again why you bother to pay rent? Daddy's already covering my half, and you're seriously better than the maid my family had while I was growing up. I can barely taste anything and I still just had a foodgasm."
"Remember that talk we've had repeatedly, Kate? The whole independence thing, my fragile sense of self-respect?" I prompted even as I scrolled through the headlines on my phone with one hand and poured coffee into two mugs with the other without spilling a drop.
'I swear, she's like freaking Mary Poppins or something, practically perfect in every way. Whoever nails her down is a lucky sumbitch,' Kate thought idly even as she made a noise of affirmation. "Today's the day of the interview. You remember?" she asked a second later.
"When was the last time I forgot anything?" I asked with gentle sarcasm. My photographic memory was the first and least unusual secret I usually clued people into about myself.
"Sorry, force of habit from dealing with other mortals, oh Mnemosyne," Kate snarked.
"You crammed for your Hellenistic Studies final last night, didn't you?" I asked.
"Every Greek god, goddess, their domain, and their parents, lovers, and children. And I still remember, like, 80% of it," Kate nodded.
"Yes, I remember the interview. As you know, Wanda is convalescing again, so I'll need to borrow the CLK," I answered after a bite of watermelon.
"Just sell that hunk of junk for scrap and pay your share of the gas money already," Kate groaned. In her mind, and I knew this for a fact, I was the sister she always wanted. She would happily share her family's impressive wealth and her father's habit of replacing love with shiny toys with me, her roommate, if I would just let her. Plus she legit feared for my safety driving a 70's era Volkswagen Beetle with over 200 thousand miles. She didn't know that I could probably walk away from any accident without a scratch with my apparent invulnerability.
"You're sure they'll even admit me for the interview in your place? A billionaire CEO like Christian Grey is bound to have security, I won't need a signed note from you verifying I can be your stand-in?" I checked.
"If they won't take you, then too damn bad. I am simply too miserable and ugly right now to drive almost 200 miles for this interview, even after working all year to get it and the fact it's with a bona fide stud muffin," Kate said after a sudden coughing fit.
I reviewed my mental file on Christian Grey. Born in Detroit, 28 next month, white, red hair. Founded Grey Enterprises Holdings, a mergers and acquisitions company, 7 years ago and already with an 11-digit net worth. Praised for his ruthless efficiency and ability to read people, never seen in public with a woman he wasn't related to or working with. Adopted by a lawyer dad and pediatrician mom at age 4, an adoptive older brother and adoptive little sister. And, I would agree with Kate, a real looker. He was conferring the diplomas for the graduating class of 2011 at our university, and Kate had been trying to get this interview since August. I was determined to do as good a job as I could in Kate's place.
I spent an hour getting ready, dressing in business casual, doing my hair, and applying a tasteful amount of make-up. I looked at myself critically in the mirror. My waist-length chocolate locks with red highlights were pulled back into a bun held by a couple jade chopsticks Kate had given me after a vacation to Beijing. My robin's egg eyes were a bit too big for my face, in my opinion, but Kate insisted it gave me an adorable 'kawaii' factor. My preferred shade of lipstick was a medium pink, and my skin was a blemish-free pale that made me self conscious next to Kate's natural tan. I didn't obsessively count calories or exercise regularly beyond a weekly Zumba class, but I'd always been toned and slender, which I suspected was part of the package that came with all my other 'gifts'. My breasts were a distractingly large 32D on my petite frame, I can't tell you how annoying it was to try and have a serious conversation with a guy (or sometimes a girl) and they were thinking the whole time about the fact I was half boob. I concluded I looked as ready for walking into a billionaire's headquarters as I ever would and left the bathroom.
"Love you, Kate. Don't forget to stay hydrated," I told her as I grabbed my purse.
"Thank you for this, Ana," Kate beamed, looking up from the textbook she was forcing herself to read despite her illness. The university didn't care that Kate was sick, Finals Week was still next week.
I grabbed her car keys and locked the door behind me. I tuned out the thoughts of all our neighbors as best I could, wishing that my passive telepathy had an off switch like my active telepathy. I did NOT want to know that Mr. Madson liked to jerk off to the occasional beastiality video. Though I picked up that Mrs. Madson was in remission on the way to the car too, I'd have to bake cookies for her or something to celebrate.
I was usually quite safety conscious when I drove, but that was more due to Wanda's ailing health than actual respect for the rules of the road. Armed with an engine that could safely go over 60, I gunned it. Between my reflexes and built-in radar detector, I had nothing to fear. I got to Seattle within 2 hours, making it in time for the interview with time to spare. I circled the block around Grey House, eyeing the 20-story building owned wholly by Christian Grey and his company. I drove up to the security gate for the garage and asked if there were spaces reserved for people with appointments. Luckily, there were, and I didn't end up having to shell out for commercial parking.
I walked into the lobby of Grey House and made for the front desk. "Hello. Anastasia Steele for Mr. Grey at 1:00. Katherine Kavanagh sends her apologies," I said, hoping Kate's hard work wouldn't go to waste and I'd be allowed in.
"For the WSU Vancouver newspaper?" the receptionist, Maggie, a pretty blonde in a black pantsuit, checked.
"That's right," I nodded.
"You're expected. Take the elevator to the top floor and check in with Andrea, Mr. Grey's PA," she told me. 'Grey is going to eat that poor girl alive,' she thought as I turned to go to the bank of elevators.
Not very promising, that.
I took the elevator up to the 20th floor and walked out into another lobby. This time there were two elegantly dressed blondes behind the desk, Andrea and Olivia. Andrea had a very professional air and her thoughts were totally focused on her current task. Olivia was idly worrying if her dog was lonely back at her apartment. I walked up to them and they both focused on me. "Hello, I'm Mr. Grey's 1:00. Katherine Kavanagh wasn't available, so she sent me. Anastasia Steele," I told them.
"Yes, I see you here. Please take a seat. Would you care for any refreshment?" Andrea asked briskly.
"Coffee if you have it, please, water's fine if not," I said, going to one of the white leather seats and glancing at the Seattle skyline out the nearby window. I focused and tried to tune into nearby thoughts, get a preview of this Grey guy's character so I knew how to approach him for the interview.
I sorted through the couple dozen 'voices' in my head, listening to each for a second before moving to the next. Lots of business-related jargon, which I could probably sell to GEH's competitors if I were so inclined but I would never abuse my power like that. Something about a hostile takeover in the UAE, a telecoms deal that was apparently suffering chronic delays, stuff like that. I honed in on two men having a conversation about personal fitness, and I soon clued in that Claude was the personal trainer to Christian Grey. Claude was discussing when they'd have their next spar while Christian was… annoyed that he was dealing with a nobody and not Eamon Kavanagh's daughter.
I sighed. Apparently Kate had scored this interview because Grey wanted to network with her media mogul father, not because he cared about the newspaper or respected her persistence. I'd keep that little detail to myself. I reviewed Kate's mental list of questions even as I accepted a mug of coffee from Olivia. I sipped, admiring the quality of the bitter brew. This definitely wasn't instant.
Claude came out the double doors of a nearby office at the end of the hall, and I attached a face to the mind. He grinned charmingly at me and walked to the elevator. Andrea nodded to me. "Mr. Grey is ready for you. Please go in. Fair warning, his next appointment is at 1:15."
I thanked her and began prioritizing Kate's questions now that I knew about the time limit. I walked into the office and took it all in. Christian Grey was sitting at an ergonomic chair that could probably pay my rent behind a large wooden desk that I suspected had been hand-carved. The office was large, probably taking up a third of the square footage of the whole floor. There were two sofas facing each other with a coffee table in between, Das Desk with two simple wire-frame chairs facing Mr. Grey, and the other 3 walls besides the door were floor-to-ceiling windows that gave the CEO a stunning view of Seattle.
I'd seen images of Grey online, but somehow the full effect was more intimidating in the flesh. He really was distractingly handsome, and I knew a sharp, keen mind rested behind that pretty face. He looked like the modern king in his castle in the sky.
"Miss Kavanagh," he greeted, standing from his desk. At an even 6'0, he towered over me.
"Anastasia Steele actually. Kate couldn't make it, as I'm sure Maggie alerted you and Andrea verified," I corrected. I knew he was trying to trip me up and I wasn't having any of it. My 15 minutes were ticking, I wasn't going to waste them with power plays.
"Ah, yes," Grey said, frowning. 'Sassy little thing,' he thought as I walked forward to shake his hand.
Our eyes met and our skin touched. My touch, as enhanced beyond the norm as every other sense, detected his pulse literally skipping a beat before noticeably quickening. 'Fuck, she's gorgeous!' Grey thought in shock.
For a brief fraction of a second, I felt flattered that someone so clearly out of my league was attracted to me.
And then his next thought was 'Cute mouth, would look great wrapped around my cock. Wonder if her skin's that smooth all over. Ass would look awesome all pink after a spanking or caning.'
I'd developed quite the poker face over the years, a survival reflex if nothing else, so I kept my distaste hidden as best I could. Great, this would be one of THOSE conversations.
I let go after one shake and tried to hide the fact I wanted to wash my hand with Purell and holy water. I took a seat in one of the wire-frame chairs and reached into my purse for the voice recorder. "I understand your time is very valuable and I only have a small segment of it. I'll be recording this interview and going through as many questions as possible," I said, trying to remain businesslike.
"Very well, Miss Steele," Grey said, not giving any sign about his knee-jerk fantasy he'd had of fucking my mouth or administering corporal punishment. He took his seat again. 'Right, college newspaper. Well, it'll only last 15 minutes,' he consoled himself.
I hit 'record' and got right into it. "You're very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?"
'How unoriginal,' he thought in disappointment even as he opened his mouth and gave what I sensed was a stock answer. "Business is all about people, Ms. Steele…" I nodded along and simultaneously listened to his inner monologue. 'Blah, blah, blah. I'm a fucking genius at this shit, that simple. Pick a more interesting question, Ms. Steele.'
"You have over 40 thousand employees working for Grey Enterprises Holdings, to say nothing of the employees of your many subsidiaries. How do you maintain leadership of a team so large?" I asked, wanting to dip into his style, get more out of him than what he'd apparently rehearsed for other interviews.
"I exercise control in all things, Ms. Steele," Grey grinned. 'If I ever got you in my playroom, I'd show you how good I am at controlling things,' he thought salaciously even as he expanded on that vocally.
My half-formed suspicion was confirmed, he was into BDSM. I had nothing against anything two adults got up to so long as it was safe, sane, and consensual, but I definitely wasn't interested in the whole chains and whips thing. I moved on to the next question. "What's your primary interest outside work?" I asked.
'Fucking petite brunettes with a high pain tolerance,' he snarked in his head even as he said "I have varied interests, Miss Steele. Very varied."
Okay, going with Kate's polite questions was getting me nothing but vague non-answers. "Let me rephrase. Apart from taking over the business world one company at a time, what do you spend the most time doing that isn't eating or sleeping?" I asked frankly, looking him in the eye.
My abrupt change in tone must have thrown him off, because he gave me a straight answer. "My work is my life. But I suppose my music," he replied, only to immediately regret it. 'Fuck, that's private. Playing piano is the only way I handle the damn insomnia. Fucking nightmares,' he thought.
"Which instrument or instruments do you play? Have you ever composed an original piece?" I asked, digging into this small opening. I'd read every article ever written on this guy in preparation for this interview, and this was uncharted waters. He hadn't mentioned music to any other interviewer and I was determined to help Kate stand out.
"I've been practicing the piano since I was 5, and yes," Grey reluctantly admitted. 'Why am I telling her this? She's fuckable, sure, but nothing that special… okay, that's not true. She's just my type and those eyes are hypnotizing,' he reflected.
5 of my precious 15 minutes were already up, so I put a pin in my pride and decided to use his attraction to me to my advantage. "What drew you to music in the first place? I play piano myself," I said with a smile, batting my eyes in what I hoped was a subtle way.
"You first, Ms. Steele," Grey countered, but at least he didn't shut me down totally.
"Don't think I'm a total nerd, but I was drawn to the science of it all," I confessed. "I'm fascinated how certain soundwaves produced in the right order can evoke emotional responses. Plus I'm a bit of a polyglot, and music seemed like just another language for me to learn. I bugged my parents into lessons and I grew to admire the beauty of music as an art form once I was able to produce and experiment with it. But I still very much approach music as a scientist and not a true musician."
"That's an interesting reason, and not one I've heard before, Miss Steele. Very well. My mother had a rule for me and my siblings: language, instrument, sport. I picked piano because she plays piano herself and we already had one, so there was ease of access. I've since grown to love it," Grey told me, his ice king exterior melting slightly.
"What language and sport did you pick?" I asked. Kate had included questions about his personal life, so I knew she'd approve of this direction.
"French and kickboxing," he answered.
"Êtes-vous à l'aise?" I asked. 'Are you fluent?'
"Oui, je rêve en français," he responded. 'Yes, I dream in French.' 'Fuck me running, she sounds sexy,' he mentally groaned.
I mentally switched gears and decided we'd talk the rest of the interview in French. I could provide Kate with translations when she transcribed this later. "Did you focus solely on kickboxing or have you trained in other martial arts? I imagine you'd be interested in savate," I said, my accent flawless as a native.
'You're killing me, Miss Steele,' he practically panted inside the privacy of his head. Out loud, he replied in the same tongue "I've dabbled in other forms of self-defense, but I've mostly focused on refining my kickboxing."
"Your mother was quite ambitious, having you and your siblings pursue all three of those. Most parents would be happy if their child volunteered for just one. Did you ever resent the workload?" I asked.
"Not once. She was never strict about it, we all had the freedom to practice as much or as little as we wanted. Seeing her proud whenever we reached a milestone was enough to keep me going when I thought about quitting," he said honestly, a warm smile curling his lips as he thought of the woman who adopted him.
I decided to take a chance with a rather personal question. "Kate wanted me to ask how your adoption shaped you, but you weren't liking her questions so I'll put my own spin on it. You were adopted at age 4, you weren't some pure and innocent babe, you had memories, a personality, a history. Dr. Grey picked you anyway. Do you think that made you love her more or less than if she'd been your blood mother?"
'My blood mother was a crack whore who overdosed and left me to starve with her cooling corpse,' Grey thought darkly. I felt my heart break a little, but tried to keep myself from outwardly reacting as he answered. "I love my mother, she's the best woman I know. She's an angel. I wish I had been born to her, but I will admit knowing she had a choice and still picked me to let into her family makes me care for her that little bit extra."
"What did your brother and sister end up picking for their three?" I asked, sticking with his family but moving the focus off his mother, he'd shared plenty with me on that front, more than he'd ever disclosed on public record before.
"Elliot picked Spanish, guitar, and football. They suit the man he's grown to become. Mia picked French too, flute, and gymnastics," Grey told me easily. I don't know if it was the attraction, speaking a second language or something else, but he was relaxing with me, being more honest and less robotic in his responses.
"You clearly had a happy childhood with them. But you stated earlier your work is your life. When was the last time you saw or talked with any of them?" I asked.
He actually had to think about it, not a good sign. "Christmas? No, I was in Sweden then. Thanksgiving, probably."
"It's May, Mr. Grey. You haven't called your mother, fetched a beer with your brother, anything? Far be it from me to tell you how to live your life, but family's more important than money," I commented.
"What's your relationship with your family, then, Miss Steele?" he asked challengingly. I'd overstepped my bounds and he was determined to make me pay for it.
"My family is complicated. I don't know who my birth father is, I'm the product of a one-night stand. My mother is on husband number 4 currently. Her first died when I was a day old, so I never knew him. Raymond Steele, her second, is the man who raised me. I call him Dad, and we call each other at least once a week. Her third was abusive and I ran away from home to move back in with Ray. Her fourth is a pleasant enough man but I barely consider him an acquaintance. My mother and I don't speak to each other since she picked number 3 over me. We exchange half-hearted chit chat every couple months and I honestly don't desire any more than that. I'm also an only child. I have barely enough pieces of family to make just one other member. You have 4, and they seem to be a low priority to you. It makes me irrationally annoyed, I will admit, that you're taking them for granted," I replied readily.
"... I see," Grey replied, seemingly blown away that I was so candid.
"But perhaps I'm being unfair. Do you have many friends? Those can be closer than blood family or I suppose even adopted family," I asked.
"I'm afraid to say I don't have many friends either," Grey admitted.
"Do you have a love life, or does your every waking hour really revolve around your job?" I asked.
"I actually invest quite a lot of time and energy into a woman when we enter a… relationship. I broke up with my last partner two months ago though," Christian, and at some point he'd become Christian to me instead of Grey, told me. I tried to ignore how in his mind he replaced 'relationship' with 'contract'. Hey, whatever worked for him.
I was honestly surprised when I heard the door open. Odd, I hadn't gotten that absorbed in a conversation in quite a while, not even with Kate or Ray. "Mr. Grey, your next appointment is waiting," Andrea informed her boss.
"Cancel it, we're not finished here," Christian ordered.
'Um, what? He's picking a college newspaper interview over that meeting he bugged me for a month to finalize?' Andrea thought, but she replied "Of course, Mr. Grey," and closed the door.
"You didn't have to do that," I protested in English, recognizing my allotted time had officially ended.
"They'll reschedule," Christian shrugged, unconcerned. He truly was more interested in talking to me than whoever that important meeting was. If it wasn't for the BDSM, I'd be starting to feel reciprocal affection. But knowing that was his end goal, I very firmly wasn't interested. But he had admitted himself he didn't have many friends. No reason we couldn't be, right? The billionaire and the college student, stranger things had happened I'm sure. My very birth for one.
Switching back to French, I said "Thank you for extending this interview. We've talked quite enough about your personal life, so let's veer back into your work. You're heavily involved in manufacturing, what drew you to that?"
"I like ships," Christian replied readily. "Most people don't stop to think about this, but without them the planet would starve. They carry food all over the world every day. I funded research at WSU Vancouver into crop rotation and soil science, that's why I agreed to give the commencement address," he explained. 'Not going to let other kids starve like I did if I can help it,' I heard clear as a bell.
"You genuinely care about the starving kids in Africa, don't you?" I grinned, pleased to see that whatever his sexual proclivities, this guy might actually have some good in him.
"Africa, the Middle East, Southeast Asia, right here in the USA. No one should have to go hungry, and given modern supply chains we have no excuse for allowing famine and malnutrition to still be such a big problem," Christian said passionately.
"I agree, but the priorities of the various world governments and major companies always seem a bit skewed on that front. Did you know a full 2 out of every 5 pounds of food produced in or imported to the United States is wasted each year?! That's over a billion meals, just thrown in the trash because no one bought it before their expiration date!" I said back.
Christian blinked. "I actually did not know that, but thank you for bringing it to my attention. You'd think there'd be a program where a supermarket or restaurant would donate all food they're supposed to throw out to a homeless shelter or something that morning or evening."
"Ah, but that involves keeping track of all the dates of every item in the store, paying drivers to transport the food, finding volunteering shelters to even take the food, it would cost a significant chunk of change to implement a daily policy, so no one has," I sighed.
"Well, I'm going to start. I own a local supermarket and a few restaurants right here in Seattle, and I'm going to institute such a program within a week," Christian stated confidently.
I blinked. "Um, that's very noble," I said, honestly at a bit of a loss. What was so special about me that a billionaire actually took my idea seriously?
"Don't look so surprised, Miss Steele, it was a good idea and I pride myself on listening to and implementing every good idea I happen to hear," Christian grinned.
"You can call me Ana," I told him, relaxing for the first time since I'd shaken his hand. I'd take his sexual interest, however perverted compared to my vanilla sensibilities, as the compliment it was and focus on what I'm sure was a fairly decent human being in all other respects.
"Only if you call me Christian," he grinned.
"Well, Christian, you're usually a very private person. Why did you agree to this interview in the first place? Kate had to badger your people for months," I asked.
"I didn't say no outright because I'm a benefactor of the university, and I wanted to see how serious Miss Kavanagh was. As the months went on, I was impressed with her tenacity. And, I will admit, I was hoping to curry favor with her father for a potential deal by agreeing. But I'm pleased it was you that showed up instead, Anastasia," he grinned, somehow smolderingly sexy and boyishly adorable at the same time.
My own heart skipped a beat. I may be in trouble here.
"Why didn't she come?" Christian asked curiously.
"She has the flu, so she's in quarantine. Fun fact, 'quarantine' comes from the Italian word 'quaranta' meaning 40. It came to be associated with isolating yourself to prevent infection due to a policy in Venice when it was still a city-state with a major naval empire. Every ship had to wait 40 days in dock before the crew were allowed to actually enter the city, to ensure that none of the crew had any symptoms and would bring disease into the city," I told him. Wow, I really was relaxing with this man, I tried to restrain my compulsive need to share 'fun facts' with strangers. I'd long since learned most people didn't find my trivia as interesting as I did.
"That's actually very interesting, and a smart policy back before we truly even understood how disease and infection worked," Christian thought out loud.
"Anyway, back to the interview," I said, remembering why I was here. "Do you have a philosophy, some guiding principle you try to live by and keep you going when you're unmotivated?" I asked, remembering Kate's questions verbatim and tweaking them based on my growing understanding of what worked with Christian.
"Carnegie's, maybe. 'A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled,'" he rattled off from memory. "I'm very singular, driven. I like control of myself and those around me," he answered.
"That's a great quote, but I'd like to hear what you'd say in your own words. Keep in mind, Christian, that some aspiring CEO in 50 years could be quoting you someday," I grinned.
He honestly thought about it. "Caesar once said 'I came. I saw. I conquered.'. I suppose my policy would be 'I came. I assessed. I fixed.' Every time I buy a company, I go over it with a microscope. There's financial and policy changes to make, of course, but over half the time it's down to the people in charge. I cut the dead weight and nurture those worth keeping."
I glanced around his impressive office. "And apparently, it works," I added.
"To some degree," he shrugged, but he was smiling.
"You're clearly passionate about your work, not just in it for the money. And you've said you keep a good team and nurture your staff. Yet you also said you don't have many friends. You're not close with anyone on this floor or in the building? Andrea, your COO Ros Bailey perhaps?" I prompted.
"Not outside work, I'm afraid to say," Christian confessed. "Andrea works 18 hour days for me sometimes, I take up quite enough of her time without asking for more off the clock. Ros isn't just an employee to me, but she has her own life and I guess I haven't tried too hard to be a part of it after business hours. I live with my bodyguard, Jason Taylor, and my house manager, Gail Jones, so I guess they're the ones I talk to most when I'm not here at Grey House. And I make time to meet with one of my mother's friends and a business associate, Elena Lincoln."
My blood froze as I heard 'Should probably ask her to find me a sub, I'm way too primed and ready if little Miss Steele is working me up like this. Really hope she doesn't volunteer herself again, I had enough of that when she was showing me the ropes.'
Christian had been introduced to BDSM by one of his mother's friends. Wow, that was messed up. But, I reminded myself, it was really none of my business. "You're never seen out on the town with a woman, yet by your own admission you had a partner two months ago, so you aren't celibate. How's that work, Christian?" I asked.
He looked a bit uncomfortable before covering it up masterfully. If I didn't have the inside track, I'd never know. "My relationships with women are private, Anastasia. I go to great lengths to ensure that we're never seen together in the public eye, it's just easier that way."
"Only a certain kind of woman is okay being kept as a secret, Christian," I said leadingly. I wasn't expecting him to open up about being a Dom, but I wanted to see how'd he explain this away.
"Guess I have a type, then," he shrugged. "Are you dating anyone, Anastasia?"
I blushed. "Um, this interview is really about you, you know," I deflected.
"Yes, but if you answer my questions in turn I'll share some really juicy stuff with you," he teased.
Well, if that's how he wanted to play it. "No, I'm not dating anyone. Maybe my standards are too high, maybe I attract all the lousy ones, but I've had a grand total of 11 dates between 5 men since starting the 9th grade. And I'm perfectly content with that, to be honest. You have to love yourself before you can start to truly love someone else, after all. Me, myself, and I are happy with just us for now," I told him. We were still speaking French, for the record.
"I see. But you do want the whole 'hearts and flowers' thing one day? A big white wedding, kids, growing old with someone," Christian laid out.
"I'm a girl, I've been programmed since birth to want all those things," I chuckled. "But as my mom clearly proves, not every marriage is happy. If it were up to me, yes, I'd find a guy, we'd fall in love, he'd give me his ring, we'd start a family, and die the same night in the bed we've owned for 50 years or something romantic like that. Sadly, the odds of that actually happening are low, in my estimation at least, so I'll take what I can get." I flipped it around. "What about you, Christian? What's your stance on marriage?"
"Never say never, but I'm probably not ever getting married. I can hear my mother weeping now, but I just don't see that happening. What I've got right now seems to work for me, and why fix what isn't broken?" Christian told me. I wondered if he even remembered that this was all being recorded, he seemed to be really opening up to me.
"What do you have right now, though? You haven't exactly been clear," I pressed.
"I meet a woman through a mutual acquaintance, we agree to date each other until one of us finds a reason to end the relationship, we part ways," he shrugged, his inner thoughts going into quite a bit more lurid detail on how his contractual relationships with the Submissives Elena picked for him worked out.
"So you're only reachable by referral? Say, if I asked you out to bowling or something, you'd turn me down flat?" I joked.
Christian looked straight into my eyes. "I've actually never gone bowling before, at least not that I can remember. And this has been the most interesting, refreshing conversation I've had in quite a while. So, hypothetically, I'd like your odds if you asked me out."
Was he being serious? A quick check of his thoughts confirmed he was. I didn't know whether to feel elated or scared. Maybe a bit of both. "I'll keep that in mind," I nodded before thinking of the next question. "You're already one of the richest, most successful men on Earth, and that's after only 7 years. Do you have an end goal, some grand vision of where GEH is going, or are you going to retire before you turn 30?"
"I fully intend to become the world's first trillionaire, and I'm willing to put in all the work necessary to make that happen," he told me honestly. "I fix things, that's just what I do, and the more resources I have the bigger and tougher problems I can fix. Maybe with enough money, I could fix poverty, world hunger, the energy crisis, possibly even war and crime."
"I doubt even you can fix the human condition, Christian, but I hope you prove me wrong," I chuckled. I'd thought of using my inhuman intellect to tackle those problems myself, but I was convinced it was beyond even my power. But I truly did hope Christian might succeed at his mission.
"I'll do my best, Anastasia. How many languages do you speak, exactly? You said you're a polyglot, so it can't be only French and English, that's just bilingual," he asked, turning the focus back on me again. He'd switched back to English for some reason, so I did the same.
I blushed. "Erm, I'm technically a hyperpolyglot," I admitted.
"What's the difference?" Christain asked, tilting his head.
"Last I checked, a polyglot is fluent in 4 or more languages. A hyperpolyglot is fluent in at least 12. I have 19, and I'm working on my 20th right now," I told him, waiting for the discomfort and thoughts of how weird or freakish I am.
His eyes widened. "That's… very impressive. And you're how old, exactly?" he asked. To my surprise, I was only reading admiration in his thoughts.
"21. I'm trying to catch up so I can say I learn on average one language a year," I chuckled self-consciously.
"Please, list them," he asked eagerly.
"English and French, as you know. Mandarin, Hindi, Spanish, Standard Arabic, Bengali, Russian, Portuguese, Urdu, Indonesian, German, Japanese, Marathi, Telugu, Turkish, Tamil, Yue Chinese, Korean, and I'm working right now on American Sign Language. I've learned the alphabets and written systems for all of them too," I told him. Hey, I had to do something with all my spare time, right?
"I've never even heard of some of those, and did you say American Sign Language? I thought sign language was universal," Christain asked, looking at me with genuine respect and fascination.
"You'd think so, and it would be a lot easier on the deaf community if it was. But no, there's actually over 300 different sign languages in use around the world. Even in the same country, there can be regional differences and slang signs that can trip someone up," I revealed.
"Huh. What made you pick each of them?" Christian asked.
"The second I realized not everyone on Earth spoke English, I was determined to figure out how to read, write, and speak in the native tongue of as many people as I could manage in one lifetime. I made a list of the top 25 languages in the world based on the number of speakers, and I'm steadily working my way down. ASL isn't on the list, but I realized I should probably learn it since the mute and deaf can't exactly speak. And that's only the languages I'm fluent in, and my standard for 'fluent' is that I'm confident I could take a college course in it. If you count every language I know a word in, even if it's just a few phrases, I've got over 50 in my repertoire," I said.
"You'll make an excellent foreign correspondent with that particular talent," Christian grinned.
"Oh, I'm not a journalism major, or with the newspaper at all really. Kate's my roommate, I'm doing this interview as a favor. I helped her research for it all year, so I knew all the questions to ask," I clarified.
"So you're a Linguistics major?" Christian asked to check.
I was really getting embarrassed now. "Um, learning languages is just a hobby. I'm a double major in Psychology and Computer Science."
His jaw, I kid you not, dropped. "What the hell is your IQ?" he asked incredulously.
"Over 200. I'm on the Mensa list and everything," I told him, looking down. They actually hadn't been able to give me an accurate score after I'd answered an hour-long test in 5 minutes with a perfect score. There'd been a lot of interest in me when I was a little kid, but I'd begged Ray to hold them all at bay. I didn't want to be a celebrity, more attention drawn my way was the last thing I wanted. I'd been determined to at least pretend to be 'normal'.
"What do you want to do when you graduate?" Christian asked.
"I want to help make the world's first sapient artificial intelligence, and while I'm being ambitious I'll even try to make sure it's friendly and won't go all Skynet on us," I told him. "There's a Yudkowsky quote that stuck with me: 'Intelligence is the source of technology. If we can use technology to improve intelligence, that closes the loop and potentially creates a positive feedback cycle.' An intelligence explosion after the first AI comes online is a foregone conclusion. The first thing he/she/it/they will do is make a better computer to run their software on, and the process will repeat ad infinitum until we reach the absolute ceiling of technology. Then it'll just continue to grow and churn out scientific miracles that would seem like magic to us today. How long that will take is anyone's guess, but I'm eager to get the ball rolling in my lifetime." I'd debated long and hard as a little girl on what I should do when I grew up, and AI research had honestly seemed like the thing that would help the world the most to me.
"What are your plans after graduation?" Christian asked, getting a contemplative look on his face.
"WSU gave me a full scholarship for undergrad, so my Dad got to save and keep building my college fund. I'm moving to Seattle with Kate after graduation. I figured I'd work for a year or two to get some experience in the field, then I'm applying to University of Washington's Ph. D programs for Psychology and Computer Science," I told the college dropout. Granted that college had been Harvard and he clearly had known what he was doing, but still. In the field I wanted to work in, people didn't even pay attention to you unless you had at least one doctorate.
"I've heard of double majors, but never two Ph. Ds in two different fields simultaneously," Christian said, and he actually sounded concerned about my potential workload.
"It's not unheard of, actually. There's a few doctors who got their MD and Ph. D at the same time. And I can handle it, though I won't exactly have a lot of free time. Writing two dissertations at the same time will be hard even for someone like me," I chuckled.
"You say you're fluent in Mandarin, Cantonese, Japanese AND Korean?" Christain asked, and I could practically hear the gears turning in his mind.
"Yue Chinese is a language group, Cantonese is a dialect popular in Hong Kong and Macau, but yes," I corrected, wondering where he was going with this.
"I've been looking to expand in the Far East, and it's surprisingly hard to find a translator or interpreter who's properly vetted or I can trust. If you're up for it, I'll hire you right after you graduate to join my team in our deals with China, Japan and South Korea," Christian said. "As part of your employment contract, I'll fully cover all your educational expenses if and when you apply to University of Washington or really any other graduate program in the world."
It took a lot to surprise me, but Christian Grey had succeeded. "You're offering me a free ride through grad school for me to help you talk to Asian CEOs and their staff?" I asked incredulously.
"I don't speak the languages, you do, and I trust you to give accurate translations without mangling words accidentally or on purpose because my competitors bribed you. Your intelligence and character are plain to see, Anastasia," he grinned. "And we haven't even discussed salary or other benefits."
"Um, this is supposed to be a newspaper interview for you, not a job interview for me," I said, trying to buy time to think.
"The newspaper interview was supposed to end half an hour ago, I think we can afford to shift focus," he grinned. "But if you have other plans for the day, I'd happily make room in my schedule for us to have a meeting regarding your employment at GEH at any time convenient to you."
My day was free, apart from having to drive back to Vancouver. I processed the bewildering turn my circumstances seemed to be taking since meeting Christian Grey and him learning at least a little of my talents, and decided this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity I'd be a fool to pass up. I took the recorder and stopped recording. "Well, if you're sure, it's your company after all. What kind of work would I be doing, exactly?"
"Legalese is hard enough in English before you start writing it in kanji. Here's the first page of a contract for a deal we're working on right now. Tell me what you see," Christian asked, pulling up something on his computer before turning the screen so it faced me.
I speedread the whole thing in under a minute. "Auto parts manufacturer in Guangzhou. You pay, if I'm converting Chinese yuan to USD correctly, about 200 million in order to own 100% of the whole company. That sound about right?"
"I was told 150 by my current translator, where did he go wrong?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.
"There's a one-line clause about a year's wages for all the current workers. Either he missed it or deliberately omitted it, you know him better than I do," I told him.
Christian pressed the intercom on his desk phone. "Andrea, please inform Gregory Farris of his immediate termination of employment at GEH. I want his desk cleared and him out of the building within an hour. Also, inform Ros I want to see her right now unless Gwen is in the hospital. Clear?"
"At once, Mr. Grey," Andrea's voice came back.
"I was iffy on hiring him, his wife is the parent company CEO's niece. If I'd unintentionally lowballed them by that much, they'd have been well within their rights to refuse and I'd lose the whole deal. The politics of business," Christian sighed to me.
"Glad I could help, I guess," I said, a bit shell-shocked that I'd unintentionally gotten someone fired.
A 40-something redhead in a pantsuit, blouse and shoes that cost more than my whole wardrobe opened his office door about 30 seconds later. "The fuck are you up to, Christian? First you blow off that meeting with Xavier, now I hear you fired the head interpreter for that deal in China!"
"I've been having a fascinating conversation with our newest potential employee, and she did us a big favor in regards to that deal," Christian said cooly. "Anastasia Steele, Ros Bailey."
"How do you do?" I said, shaking her hand. Her grip was stronger than Christian's had been, I noted.
"Fill me in, Christian. Who the hell is this chick? She barely looks old enough to drink," Ros said, pulling out a cigarette from her pocket and lighting it right there in his office. I was pretty sure that was illegal in Washington state, but then so was jaywalking and I did that all the time so I could hardly throw stones.
"Anastasia is Katherine Kavanagh's roommate, come to interview me for the college newspaper since Ms. Kavanagh is indisposed. I was pleasantly surprised to learn she's the smartest woman I've ever had the pleasure to meet, and among her many talents is a gift with languages. She pointed out a clause that Mr. Farris conveniently forgot to tell us about which could have cost us the whole thing, hence the reason he no longer works for us," Christian told his second-in-command.
"You run a background check on her, do anything to prove she actually can read that gibberish and isn't a plant? Fuck, Christian, you're usually smarter than this," Ros snorted.
"I trust her, Ros," Christian said firmly, looking his COO straight in the eye with his handsome features set in a stern expression.
Ros raised a brow and gave me another once-over. "Well, you're the boss. So, what's this about Ms. Steele working for us?"
"She can read and fluently speak Mandarin, Yue Chinese, Japanese, and Korean. Plus I'm sure she's proficient in at least one other Asian language. I want her on call for all our talks with companies that speak those languages and to personally translate the contracts both ways. She'll also assist with all our other deals in foreign languages she knows, I want her review on each one to make sure our other interpreters aren't dropping the ball. After she graduates, of course. You're here to help me rough out the terms of an employment contract to offer her," Christian laid out.
"I'm not doing shit until I reach Welch's report on her. And did you even make her sign an NDA before showing her that contract?" Ros asked, her other brow joining the other. She was looking at Christian like he'd grown two extra heads.
"Perhaps an example of her skills and work ethic is in order. Anastasia, tell me what you know about Ros here," Christian said, looking back at me.
This was a test, and I was determined to pass. "Born Rosalind Theresa Bailey on March 3rd, 1968 in Portland, Oregon. Bachelor's at University of Oregon, MBA at University of Pennsylvania. Founded the Bailey Company in 1993, was earning over 100 million a year before you bought out her whole company in 2006. Net worth of over a billion, civil union with Gwen Sigmund, and she's your neighbor at Escala. Since meeting her, I've learned she's left-handed, a smoker, and she wears Dior Spice Blend," I listed off.
Ros almost dropped her cigarette. "What the fuck?!" she demanded.
"Kate's interview with Christian was a side project all senior year, I helped out with her research into his background. I like to be thorough about these things, so I composed a dossier of all the executive staff here at GEH. I also have a photographic memory, it's how I pick up languages so quickly, so I don't need to review notes to remember everything I ever researched about you. You gave an interview with Entrepreneur in 2009 where you're quoted saying 'Life is a game, and it was never designed to be fair. A girl's gotta be ready to get her hands dirty and knock elbows with the big boys to make it in the business world,'" I told the redhead.
"Well… damn. Okay, this chick's seriously smart, I'll give her that. But what makes you ready to trust her to handle all our foreign business after meeting her, what, less than an hour ago, Christian?" Ros asked her only direct superior.
"The same thing that told me I should make you my right hand when I bought your company. I got a good feeling about Anastasia, Ros. But if it'll give you peace of mind, we can hold off the serious discussion about her employment contract until after Welch does her background check. Anastasia, would you be free, say, this Saturday?" Christian asked me.
"I have work, though I can probably trade shifts with someone," I said, pulling up my mental calendar.
"You work part-time too? When do you sleep?" Christian chuckled.
"There's this thing called 'caffeine', Christian, perhaps you've heard of it," I rolled my eyes.
"Ah, yes, I do recall," he drawled, and I tried to ignore how he imagined how he'd train me to stop rolling my eyes at him if I were his sub. Would have to get used to that if we were going to be working together, I guess. Well, I handled Paul at Clayton's easily enough, that guy had pictured us in a variety of anatomically improbable situations over the years.
The 3 of us agreed to an appointment at 3:00 on Saturday. My stomach gave an audible gurgle just as I stood up to leave. I blushed like a carnation. "Sorry, this was only supposed to take 15 minutes, I was going to get lunch after."
"What do you want? I can have it brought here. Or I can take you out. We can keep talking," Christian asked, eager to keep spending time with me. His fantasies aside, he was genuinely coming to like me, not just as a potential employee but as an intelligent woman who didn't seem preoccupied with just his looks or his money.
"I thought you and Bastille had lunch at 12:00," Ros asked, her eyes flicking between us. 'Be still my heart, is THE Christian Grey crushing on someone?' I heard her think.
"How is that relevant, Ros?" Christian ground out.
"Thank you for the offer, Christian, but Kate will be getting worried about me. I'll just grab something from a drive-thru on the way back. I'll see you Saturday," I promised.
He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a business card. He grabbed a Montblanc from his desk and wrote 10 digits on the back. "My personal cell, let me know if anything comes up," he said, offering me the card.
I took out my cell phone and added the contact. 'Testing, this is Anastasia Rose Steele,' I texted. I heard a chime from his pocket. "Thank you, Christian. Well, see you Saturday," I grinned.
He opened his office door for me and escorted me to the elevator. I tried to ignore how Oliva was staring at seeing her boss be so nice to me, a nobody. I got in the empty elevator and turned to wave goodbye with a smile, very grateful that I'd had the chance to meet Christian Grey.
"Anastasia," he nodded as the doors began to close.
"Christian," I said back, just as he vanished from sight.