Chapter song: Never Have I Ever – Danielle Bradbery

Chapter 9 – heart on my sleeve, I'm a mess.

APOV

Friday afternoon

I know I said I was going to keep my distance from Christian. I was all set to take the train downtown to the Vogue offices, it would've only taken me about 45 minutes and I would've spent the entire time internally freaking out and panic buying an expensive beverage that I didn't need to.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not cheap. I love a good meal and treat as much as the next food obsessed person but panic caloric intake is not ideal given how my belly and ass absorbs everything. Which is why I speed walk and take public transportation every where.

The upside to going with Christian was that my mind was at ease. He kept me occupied and then that kiss at the end. His lips on my skin felt like the beginning of a fire that could take out a city block.

Someone dunk me in a tub of ice.

It didn't help that, as always, he was immaculately dressed. As if he had just casually stepped out of an editorial magazine to take a walk in the park. Can you take a walk in my park? God, I need to shut the hell up. I had to tell my firework factory to close up shop and pretend it was the polar vortex out there.

After going through security, I walked over the elevators, patiently waiting and trying to somehow meditate or some shit to calm my racing thoughts and beating heart. A young woman, in my age bracket came and stood next me. She was in a structured white top and dark blue cigarette pants with the most beautiful afro. We both exchanged a smile and after stepping in the elevator realized we were going to the same floor. I found out that she too was going to the intro meeting. Her name was Hannah Serrano and she had been paired with Emmanuel Walker. I felt a pang of jealousy. He was my first choice. I desperately wanted to learn from him. He was one of the notable persons of color in the industry and had an incredible way of photographing people of all ethnicities. His work also was reflective of the globalization of the times we were in. I wanted to learn all I could from him.

When I told her my pairing she gave me a look of sympathy. I laughed it off. I told her I felt the same but I had to learn how to make the best of the opportunity. Not everything in life goes our way and the experience is what we make of it.

Our meeting lasted for about two hours. We were introduced to our mentors and mingled with the other mentees and high flying editors at Vogue while hearing their sage words of advice and all that shit. My mentor, Mr. Jackson Hyde was 30 minutes late. He waltzed in with disheveled hair, five o'clock shadow, faded and ripped jeans with a white tee and an obnoxious biker jacket. He looked as if he hadn't taken a shower in years.

Jackson Hyde, in the span of 4 years has become the industry darling. Dubbed as the new decades, low-fi, erotic/heroin chic photographer, his work was meant to evoke a sense of fun, spontaneity and force you to accept the freaky sexual nature we all possess. With a day rate of $100,000/day he's brought back the 90's everyone says... whatever, the only thing I want from the 90's is the music. The thin eyebrows can stay where the fuck they are.

Yeah, no thanks bro.

The Director of the program who was also Vogue's Art Director, Sheila Maxwell introduced me to the man who would determine my professional fate in the industry for the next year.

"Jack, meet Anastasia Steele, your mentee in the program." She offered with a warm smile.

"Mr. Hyde, it's a pleasure to meet you." I said as professionally as I could. In fashion people had a habit of being too informal and I never agreed with that, not on the first meeting of course. I liked to be as reserved as I could when dealing with industry professionals.

"Mr. Hyde? What are we, in the 50's. Call me Jack, Anastasia." He said with a smirk and shook my hand but he lingered a little too long for my liking as he looked me up and down with a raised eyebrow.

I answered with a tight smile and remained silent as Sheila and Jack conversed about something that I honestly couldn't describe even if my life depended on it. It was that boring.

After a while, Jack and I found ourselves on one of the couches talking about equipment and preferences in shooting environment. I get the sense he was trying to gauge my experience in shooting sexually charged editorials that pushed the envelope. He might as well have asked me where on the scale of 'I'm married to Jesus' to 'orgy every night' do I land on.

In case you're wondering, I don't land on the scale at all. I'm immeasurable, bitch.

I kept my answers neutral and to the point. Was I uncomfortable with the fact that he loved shooting with his shirt off? Or that he preferred alcohol on set to 'loosen up' the vibe? I couldn't allow myself to freak out unless there was something actually to freak about it. Till then I'd keep my eyes and ears open with my mouth and legs tightly shut.

"So, any relation to Raymond Steele?" He asks out of the blue.

I gave a slight nod. "Yes. He's my father."

"How does it feel riding on your dad's coat-tails?"

I shrugged. "Wouldn't know since I'm not riding on them."

"Don't take it personally." He challenged patronizingly.

I looked back impassively. "I didn't, unless you meant for it to be a personal dig in which case let me know, I can act accordingly."

He licked his lips and gave me a smirk. "Feisty. I like that energy. It's staple for anyone who I want working on my team."

"Duly noted." I replied in a bored tone. He got up to catch up with the others and I looked over at Hannah and Emmanuel with longing. They seemed to have gotten along well and were fully engrossed in their conversation. Here I was with a rich white kid who grew up around all these industry people and had the talent of a five year old but was being celebrated for being some savior as if he was a modern day Andy Warhol.

I felt myself falling into despair and I needed to fix this as soon as possible. I couldn't afford to let my anxiety get the best of me. It'd been a while since I felt anxious like this.

Later that evening.

CPOV

"Sir?" I hear Sawyer from the threshold from my study. It's about 10pm

I motion him to come in and take a seat. "What do you have for me Sawyer?"

"Miss Steele left the Vogue offices close to 5pm but her expression looked... grim. She didn't walk straight to the train but instead walked further west and sat by the water for a while. She seemed lost in thought till she got a phone call. She was on the phone for a few minutes and then walked to the train to head back to her neighborhood. She went straight to Miss Morozov's house."

"Thank you Sawyer, what about Mr. Hyde?"

"Sir, if I'm being honest, I don't like the guy." I can see his jaw tighten slightly.

"Neither do I."

He hands me a folder with Hyde's information and look through it while he speaks. "The last female assistant he had was three months ago who quit just after two weeks. They usually don't last that long. He has one long-term male assistant, he's been with Mr. Hyde for the last two years. He lives in Tribeca and works mostly from home unless the job requires the set location to be elsewhere."

"I don't like the idea of Miss Steele working in his place of residence, especially when we can't have eyes on her."

"Agreed. Unfortunately, it's all condos and there are no available units in the building."

"I'll take care of that. Good work, Sawyer and thank you."

He nods and leaves. I walk to the window and take in the view of the skyline. I'm about to do the Dominant shit again, Flynn would chastise me for this but I can't bear the thought of anything happening to Ana. I'm dying to know her connection to Kavanagh, there is something there. I need her to tell me.

I take my phone out to text her, hoping she'll respond.

Christian: Miss Steele, I hope your meeting went well.

APOV

Katya had another date, her third one this week on the train to the destination 'Elliot Grey, who?"

I texted her saying that I was going to sleep over at her place. Reen and I had dinner and caught up. I told her about my reservations about my mentor and we ultimately decided that I shouldn't let this one encounter and my pre-conceived notion of him completely cloud my judgment and ruin this journey before if it even started.

But I have this problem... once I already have a bad impression of someone, it's really hard to change it. Maybe I was just a hard ass and needed to chill the fuck out. After some much need girl talk with Reen and about half a pint of ice-cream later, I went up and took a quick shower and changed into one of Katya's oversized shirts and snuggled in her bed. Her signature scent was rose too. Our mothers gave us the middle name rose to connect us. Mom and Reen's middle names were Gul which means rose in Turkish. They were best friends since they were babies and so were Katya and I. We didn't look like each other but people often mistook us for sisters of cousins and sometimes romantic partners which we've totally used to our advantage on occasion - straight guys are so gullible, the amount of free drinks we've gotten with the false promise of a threesome... we should be in burning in hell. As a result of our closeness, we are able to communicate with just our eyes and subtle hand signals. Our fights never last more than a few hours and always end with an exchange of ridiculous memes or gifs instead of actual apologies.

"Sssussteele..." I hear Katya miserably fail at whispering.

"Don't come near me if you had sex. Go wash that shit off." I grumble half asleep.

"I couldn't have any sexy time." She whines and aggressively cuddles with me.

"Don't you dare try to hump me." I jump up and walk around the bed to get her some clothes and help change but not before making her wash her face and brush her teeth... we were raised by dentists, that shit is drilled into our minds. Reen is so lucky she never has to deal with this drunk Katya. She would never have the patience.

"Feeling better?" I ask her.

"Yeah... no..." She shakes her head. "I can't get my..." She looks down..." I can't get Simone to wake up." She says with a pout... this only means one thing. She's about to cry.

She named her vagina Simone. Don't ask why because I honestly don't know the answer to that question. And for the record, no I have not named my vagina anything. Firework factory was cute enough.

"What happened?"

"I called him Elliot." Tears start to fall from his eyes.

"Oh... and what was his name?"

"Brian."

"Well, I think you did him a favor. He needed the name upgrade." I laugh and she giggles then snorts.

"You said you were gonna stay awaaaaaay from that Gweyyy boy." She says with mock seriousness pointing a finger at me.

"I know. You're right but... my brain went to mush. He was looking at me with those 'let me take you downtown' grey eyes and I couldn't think with my brain."

"Fight him." She falls onto the bed with her arms splayed out. "These boys are trouble Annie. They will break our hearts. I can feel it."

This ladies and gentleman is psychic Katya. A drop of liquor with a generous side of heartache and we're off to the races with an imaginary crystal ball.

"I'm trying, Katya." But I also can't help it. Everything feels so effortless and easy with him. He even texted me a little while ago and it took everything in me to not reply back. I just started the words.

"He came to the diner this afternoon for coffee." She whimpers.

I need to talk Elliot. This is ridiculous... or better yet, maybe I can talk to Christian? I can't bear to see Katya like this.

"And?"

"We bumped into each other as I was leaving the Diner. Literally crashed into him. He smelled so good and his hands touched my arms but I quickly backed away but he looked so good with those 'let me take you uptown' eyes and I wanted to cry..." her voice breaks. "I have two gigs next week otherwise I was seriously thinking of going away for a week and just having a fuckathon to get him out of my system."

"Simone seems to be not interested in that plan though." I laugh and pull her close to me for a cuddle and rub her back.

"Well, Simone is going to have to get with the program. There has to be a Viagra for women. Can you google this for me?"

CPOV

Monday, the following week.

Every Monday afternoon I have a weekly meeting with my head of PR, Sam Echols. The amount of requests we get now have doubled in the last two years ever since I agreed to do pointless interviews and be seen out with women on dates or at charity galas. Still, I keep it limited. I've given maybe a handful of television interviews and editorial profiles. My PR team runs a tight ship and we keep my personal life private.

"Mr. Grey, GQ would like to feature you on the cover for their August Issue. The theme of the profile will be "The Man Behind the Billions, what makes Christian Grey tick?"

I roll my eyes. "Of course they do."

He lets out a laugh. "They really want to ask some personal questions but we've told them it's strictly off limits. They can keep it to fashion, general interests and anything business related..."

"Hmm, who's the photographer?"

"They didn't make a pitch for that, this was a very introductory discussion about the possibility of you being on the cover."

"Tell them I want to choose the photographer and get final say on the images and in exchange I'll do my best to answer whatever personal questions they have after the shoot." I'll just bullshit them, I don't care, this way I'll get to spend more time with Ana.

Sam looks a little shocked but quickly recovers. He's been trying to get me to do more profile pieces like this. "I can run that by them, who is the photographer you'd like for this editorial?"

"Anastasia Steele. I trust her work. She was did a feature shoot in Elle for Breast Cancer Awareness.."

"I'll let them know. I'm sure they'll agree, they've been trying to get you on the cover for years." Sam chuckles.

"I know." I smirk.

Sam leaves and I check my phone again. Still no word from Ana. It's been more than two days Should I text her again? I know she's safe. Is she avoiding me?

APOV

Wednesday afternoon

Yesterday during lunch time, I received an email from one of the editors of GQ magazine asking me to shoot the cover... THE COVER... for their August issue. And who's going to be on the cover? CHRISTIAN TREVELYAN GREY.

Happy Early Birthday to me.

I immediately got on the phone with them. I love emails but sometimes you need to talk to the other person to get a sense of their vibe. Turns out Christian requested me specifically since he trusted my aesthetic. The editor and I discussed the theme of the profile and off the bat I was able to give them some ideas, which they really liked. I told them I could shoot everything as early as this weekend, I only needed one full day from Christian for this, so that if there was something extra that they wanted, I could have enough buffer time before the actual deadline for turning in the final images.

I spent most of my lunch time talking about this. Was I going to tell Jack Hyde about my new gig? Hell to the fuck no. There's not a genuine bone in his body.

Which brings me to my summary of working with Jack Hyde. First, he doesn't believe in set schedules so while I'm supposed to be working with him 4 days a week, we play it by ear. I've absolutely will not sacrifice my weekends for him. Technically, I don't need to work at the diner. I've been working there since I was 16 and I have more than enough in savings to last me a year. I grew up comfortably. My mom was the main bread winner in the house till my Dad really started to become successful. After mom died and the Kavanagh situation, Dad asked me to start working to help with my grief and anxiety, which was such a blessing. I may have become extremely jaded and angry but working at the Diner saved me from becoming a complete asshole after everything. Now I'm like 50% jaded and angry and 50% a seemingly happy and charming human being. Balance is important.

Yeah, sorry... back to my working with Jack Hyde. THE MAN HAS SERIOUS B O ISSUES. I want to him drown him in Pine Sol. So far working with him has been a nightmare. There's no structure to the shoot. He can't stick to a plan, he takes the spontaneity aspect of his work a little too literally. I try to keep a neutral expression but the RBF gene in me is strong. I'm charming as they come when I smile but meet me in full RBF mode and well, I suppose this is why I'm still a virgin. Anyway, I'm just a maid for Jack. I'm always cleaning up and or running out to buy food, liquor or fulfilling coffee orders from the nearby and overpriced coffee shop. He did however tell me I setup equipment the fastest he's ever seen. I suppose that counts for something.

On Monday he went though my portfolio of work with me and basically ripped it apart. He told me it was too 'matronly and boring' like the older guys who came before him. He said I needed to loosen up and stop being so safe. His words for my Elle feature were "it's too cookie cutter". He too was part of the Elle feature as well but I didn't seem him in person that night, just his work. His feature was of a mom and two of her daughters doing a champagne spray at the camera standing in ball gowns and smeared lipstick. He said that was the true definite of 'girls just wanna have fun.' I know what he was alluding to but stared at him impassively. I wasn't going to let this fucker bring me down. Hyde said he was determined to teach me how to think outside of the box.

Meanwhile, the stipend i'm getting from this mentorship program is about $500/week after taxes. I make more than that from the diner working the same amount of days while actually having fun. Then again, people on the Upper East Side tip really well.

Outside of my maid duties, I'm responsible for cataloging the images from the shoot, making first wave culls, setting up and dismantling the equipment in addition to cleaning it and making sure everything is always charged. Basic grunt work that I've done for my dad before but at least it was fun with him.

It's only been two days and even though I'm on my feet at the diner for my 6-7 hour shifts, somehow working for Jack is more exhausting. I suppose trying to keep all my screaming thoughts to myself is a workout too.

After dinner I sit on the couch with a glass of wine. It's just after 9:30pm. I never replied back to Christian's text. He sent me an email this afternoon about the shoot, saying that he was looking forward to working with me and eager to hear my ideas. I wanted to talk and not write him a massive email. I feel like my ideas would've gotten lost.

Ana: Mr. Grey, I'm sorry I never replied to your text. I got your email as well but was at work. Would you be willing to talk right now or I can just respond via email. Whichever, you prefer.

Fifteen minutes later

Christian: It's good to hear from you Miss Steele. I can call you now?

CPOV

I click on her name to call and she picks up on the first ring.

"Mr. Grey slash Christian slash Lurch, how are you?" She laughs and it's contagious.

"I'm fine Miss Steele slash Ana. Though I feel I should come up with an equally ridiculous nickname for you. It's only fair?"

"Feel free to use any synonym for the word Charming."

"I think I should call you Speedy, given how quick you are with everything you do."

"You know, I kinda like that."

"Speedy it is."

We catch up a bit and she tells me how the meeting at Vogue went along with her first week of working so far with Jack Hyde. She's unable to divulge too much since she's signed an NDA but says that so far it's exactly what she expected and not expected. She doesn't sound happy and I call her out on it. She chalks it up to being tired.

"I'd love to hear your ideas for the shoot." I'd love to hear just about anything you'd like to talk about but I'll keep it semi-professional.

"Well, are you free this Saturday, I understand it can be a bit short notice given your work otherwise I have next Sunday available."

"I'm free Saturday." I'm not, but it's my show and I can run it however I want.

"Awesome. It would be an early call time. Around 7:30 in the morning and we have to drive up to Beacon, New York to photograph against a certain exhibit to start with. Then head back down to your apartment. The editor said you were okay with shooting in your apartment just as long as I adhered to some of the rules and sign an NDA, which, I'm okay with. I actually signed one for Mia but can sign another one if you'd like."

"Will you have team with you?"

"No I won't. I like to keep a small and closed set. I can handle this shoot on my own. I'll have very minimal equipment, I sometimes have Katya help me out but she's busy with her own shoot on Saturday... so I'm good."

"So what's the shot list looking like?"

"You really want to know? Maybe I should really tell you, that way you can practice. Mia told me you're hopeless in the kitchen." She giggles.

"Please don't tell me you want me to cook?" I say in mock horror, which elicits a big laugh from her.

"Just some eggs. Those are simple, look the theme is the man behind the billions and my understanding of something like that is to show the world that you're a regular guy who can slice the top of a champagne bottle. Unless you prefer to appear your usual stoic self... as I've seen on other editorial profiles. We're going to show the different shades of Christian Grey."

Shades of Grey, eh? Well, I'm in recovery rom being fifty shades of fucked up, that's for sure. Maybe she can be the antidote that cures all that's ailing me once and for all. "You've researched me?"

"I did a quick search as soon as I got the GQ email. It took a while to get to the stuff I actually wanted to see, most of the stuff is about your dating life... but yeah when doing a feature like this, you want people to relate to you while revering you at the same time. And then last night I read some of the articles."

"And you think you can do it? I mean people tend to hate me a lot." It's true. It's mostly jealousy but it doesn't faze me.

"It's because they don't know you, Christian. I'm not saying this should be treated as a tell-all but people are usually weary of what they don't know can't relate to. As soon as they find something even small to relate to you with, they'll see you in a different light and in the case of this shoot, quite literally."

"You think you can really achieve that?"

"Isn't that why you asked that I shoot this feature?" She sasses.

Well it is that and the fact that I want more. A lot more.

"Touche, Speedy. Touche." I chuckle.

A/N: OOOH THEY GONNA MEET FOR A PHOTOSHOOT. I'm still in the middle of setting up some elements of the story. I promise you they'll kiss and it will be... really sweet. As of now, they're gonna have a big moment in Chapter 11. I used to post really big wordy chapters in my other story and I hate doing that now. Trying to keep all these ones short and sweet and enough to digest, details wise.

Gowildcats: You know me, Post Malone is essential and as always your reaction in the reviews crack me upppp!

LL: Just you wait for the real kiss. Faint? More like RESUSCITATE PLEASE!

Loving all your theories about the hush money. All shall be revealed in chapter 12. I promise you. Till then you for reviewing and following this story. How are you all doing?