Disclaimer: I own the original contributions not the underlying work or characters it is based on which belong to E.L. James. All characters and locations in this novella are fictional, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Chapter 1
May 25, 2020
Anastasia
It's 8:00 AM on Monday. The weekend is over, yet my stifling environment lingers like an unwelcome guest. I commute from my bed to my desk in our cramped two-bedroom Seattle condominium. It marks the start of my fourth week at Grey Enterprise Holdings (GEH). Since the start of the pandemic, my sense of time is off–the days run together.
I click the conference link expecting to see eight immaculate faces populate the screen. I'm holding my breakfast tea, trying to avoid spilling it on my blouse, when an error message pops up. Access denied. I click the link again multiple times, like a fool who hopes the same strategy will achieve different results. Nothing changes. What's going on?
Hyperventilating, I go to GEH's task management system–and it's also down. Weird. There aren't any missed messages on my work phone. My stomach drops. Is management preparing for layoffs? I start dwelling on what could've gotten me fired. I never planned to be an administrative assistant.
I'm going through old emails, knowing I must have missed something, when my phone vibrates on my desk. The accompanying sound reminds me of an emergency alert system–definitely, a bad omen. Snatching it up, I see this text notification:
ATTENTION: GEH is aware of a recent security breach impacting client information.
We are investigating and taking steps to fix it. We will update everyone shortly.
An attack during an already stressful time...why? Russian Hackers? Occupy Wall Street 3.0? Before I form a solid hypothesis, my phone rings, and my boss Andrea's aristocratic face pops up on my screen. I'll get some answers.
There's got to be a technical explanation. Unless layoffs are coming. Would I be able to keep my health insurance?
"Ana! I need you to pay attention," Andrea snaps. "Mr. Grey wants someone from admin to come to headquarters today to sort through the personnel records."
Why is she telling me this? I'm the newest hire on the team. Surely, they don't want me to go in.
"I can't accommodate that request, and neither can some of the other staff members," she insists. "Due to privacy laws, I can't discuss it. So, let me get to the point. Would you be willing to go into the office today as my replacement?"
Andrea pauses, giving me a few seconds to collect myself. All the other administrative assistants were hired before the pandemic. They're experienced with working in-person. They've probably met Mr. Grey before. Why me? Does the whole admin team have pre-existing conditions?
"We normally recruit individuals from more prestigious universities for admin," Andrea confesses. "You were hired, even though your background is different, because of the pandemic."
What does the pandemic have to do with me?
"Your old boss mentioned you had experience with 12-hour shifts and inventory tasks," she explains. "He said you were a hard worker."
Oh! She needs someone who'll get her hands dirty. I wait for her to say more.
She stays silent.
"I can fill in but..."
"Thank you. Mr. Grey will direct you when you arrive." Andrea interrupts. "I'll call you later."
My heart's pounding, as we hang up. It's office work. I'm young. What could go wrong?
º-º-º-º-º
Peeking into my roommate Kate's bedroom, I wave at my beautiful best friend. I need to borrow a dress. Or suit. Something different than yoga pants.
Kate's headset's on. She's on a sales call. Her standard pitch. "James, how about we schedule a free assessment. We're almost booked out for the month. But, James, your firm's business is valuable to us. I can make an exception and get you scheduled for next Thursday. Would that work?"
I could repeat it verbatim I've heard it so many times. I tiptoe into her walk in closet. I wish I had her perseverance. Or her ability to remember names. It would help...especially with my new assignment.
Typical. I find very few appropriate dresses without deodorant stains. I choose a plum sheath dress. I'm slipping it off the hanger and planning to take it to my room when I hear Kate end her call.
"I'll take care of the invoice, James, and please call me Kate."
Predictable, poor James.
"Ana," Kate says, marching into her closet. "Your belt's in the laundry room. I need to tell you about this guy who's messaging me. Wait, you need a dress?"
I shrug. I'm usually a t-shirt and jeans girl. "Is it okay if I borrow it?"
Kate nods and takes the dress out of my hands. She holds it up against my chest. "The color's good on you. Did you make a dating profile?"
"It's for work."
"You're a telecommuter," Kate says, eying me closely. "They're making you give a standing presentation. Weird."
"I was a telecommuter. I'll be in-person for a week or two."
"This is the commencement speaker's company, right?" Kate asks.
I haven't told her much about the job. Admin...is well admin. "Yes, the CEO is Christian Grey. He spoke about increasing food production right before…"
"Will he be there today?"
"Um...maybe."
"Did I ever tell you I was going to interview him?"
"No."
"For the paper. He's hot. But he might be into guys." She eyeballs me, like I might know his sexual preferences. "Let's check."
I follow Kate to her desk taking the dress with me.
She types Christian Grey into her search box. "He's twenty-eight, single," she squeals. "And, a runner."
Young to own such a large company. Olivia said he's "dreamy" during one of our virtual happy hours. I should have paid attention to his commencement speech…I would have if it hadn't been a virtual ceremony.
"Check this picture out."
My breathing gets heavy, as I stare at my boss's boss. He's on a boat. There's a little stubble on his face. What would it feel like to be with a man like him? A man with that jawline and a Wikipedia page. "He's so young."
"You've got to meet him!" Kate says, flipping through other search results.
I raise my eyebrows in scrutiny and force myself to stop staring at the screen. "Thanks for the dress! I better go."
"Anytime," she says, putting her work headset back on, "Take a pair of heels too. You have great legs."
Walking back into her closet, I rummage through her shoe collection. Great legs? Not compared to hers. I find a pair of strappy heels I've worn before. Good enough. Picking them up, I notice a pair of tall black boots with pointed heels laying on the shoe rack. No scuff marks. Those must be new. She's prepping for fall already.
"Tyler, your client base is our…"
I tune the rest of Kate's words out and check out the boots. These...these are sexy. The patent leather oozes sexuality. Experience I don't have. A 22-year old virgin. Unzipping them, I try them on in front of her full-length closet mirror. Not bad. My legs are okay in these.
"False advertising," I mutter underneath my breath, as I return the boots.
I walk out of her bedroom with the borrowed items, thinking about opening up my body to a man. My brow sweats, and I do a kegel exercise. Will I ever be ready?
º-º-º-º-º
Christian
Christian grips his steering wheel as he parks his Audi in his reserved parking spot. It isn't needed anymore since there are only a dozen cars parked in a garage with 900 open spaces. He checks his phone for missed messages, dreading walking into the mostly unused building.
Another notification from Elena. The woman won't back off or get a hint. He read her text: Julia's clean. Here are her test results. She's perfect.
Clicking through the other texts, it's clear Elena upped the ante in her tactics. Enough to arrange for COVID testing in addition to STD testing. She's like a venture capitalist who's late on a deal. Desperate.
Elena should stick to managing the salon, which she's been failing at especially with the virus, never applying for the paycheck protection program or getting any federal assistance, further evidence of her incompetence. He doesn't need her for his sex life. Not anymore. He needs to stop relying on her. She's too clingy.
Christian grabs his custom face mask and pops a pain reliever into his mouth. His head aches. He's forgetting something. His COVID emergency kit. Hydroxychloroquine pills, azithromycin, zinc, a nitric oxide inhaler, and a pulse oximeter…Will it be enough?
Christian's heart races. There are risks to bringing people into the office. The whole Taskforce could get quarantined because of his choices. It's time to get a bag of the blood serum treatment, just in case. Who has the antibodies?
Exiting his Audi, his body tenses further. He hears a voice he doesn't recognize. A woman laughing, like she's not in the middle of a pandemic. Germ particles spreading in the air. Stupidity. His heart palpitations increase.
Christian turns his head towards the elevators, where the sound is coming from. Only thirty employees have been cleared to work in-person. He listens closely, trying to decipher who's here. Two people talking. Niall, his roommate from college and long-time employee. And someone else. A woman he hasn't met before.
He walks past the concrete traffic bollards and pauses, getting a clear view of the woman. It must be Andrea's employee. She mentioned a woman named Miss Steele will be replacing her today.
Christian studies the woman's profile. Not wanting to be seen, he takes a step back. Long, slightly tousled waves in her hair, college aged. Lean with subtle curves. An attractive brunette. Pre-COVID, her features were what he looked for in a submissive, well, he'd need to see the rest of her face.
She enters the elevator, laughing with Niall, like they're old friends. Niall has that effect on people.
A wave of jealousy fills Christian. Woman don't talk to him like that. With ease.
"You ready?" Taylor asks from behind him. Christian's head of security must have seen his gawking. Unfortunate.
Christian nods, and they walk together, "Yeah, it's time to open this place back up for the Taskforce. At least temporarily."
Pushing the elevator button, Christian's focus momentarily shifts to a vivid fantasy. Same woman. He imagines pouting lips telling him, she wants to be locked down in his playroom. Her legs opening up for him, without a contract. Stop. Not during work hours. Maybe Elena's right. It might be time for another submissive.
º-º-º-º-º
Anastasia
Exiting the elevator onto the 20th floor, I enter the steel, glass, and sandstone lobby. The furnishings, while sparse, seem pricey and modern. I'm following Niall, a senior technical staff member. Despite his casual appearance, a black t-shirt covered by a plaid button down and jeans, and his laid-back disposition, he walks into what he calls the executive floor without trepidation. He must come here often.
I adjust my face mask to cover my nose. It keeps falling. Attempting to walk gracefully, I smooth out the borrowed dress, trying to make sure there's no wrinkles. I correct my posture, reminding myself to not slump here. It's my first time stepping foot on GEH's main campus. Trembling, I tread on Niall's heels. I've made it this far.
We enter a large room, probably meant for board meetings. It could easily fit fifty people, maybe more. I try to count the chairs. One wall is covered with floor-to-ceiling windows. Drawn to them, I inch towards them, wanting to get closer to the spectacular view of downtown Seattle. My new city. Home.
"Be right back," Niall says, as he's greeted by two blonde women.
I smile at him, then walk to the right side of the long table, to get a better look at the view. Getting close up, right next to the glass, I notice the Space Needle with its hovering disk. Once everything starts reopening, I'm gonna check it out.
Looking downwards towards the street, I'm claustrophobic. The sensation of the floor falling overwhelms me. I better sit down. I'm not usually afraid of heights.
Touching the backrest of one of the chairs, I get a better feel for the space. I should sit towards the middle of the table. No one's there right now, and it would be better for social distancing.
I start walking towards a white leather seat. A half dozen employees work silently. Their eyes glued to their laptop screens, a few wear headgear, and chat with hushed tones. Very secretive. I feel a rush of adrenaline, of purpose. I'm one of them. My confidence breaks when I smell the disinfectant. It reminds me why I'm here. This isn't a permanent assignment. Not even close.
Trying to slip into a chair unnoticed, I trip over an extension cord, catching myself before I fall and drop my backpack. Slipping on the floor would've been a way to make a first impression.
Several pairs of eyes turn to me. Some are frowning, and nobody looks amused by my clumsiness.
I swallow hard, wishing to disappear as I sit down. "Sorry," I say, forcing my lips to utter an apology.
They don't seem to notice.
I'll need to speak louder if I'm going to be heard. I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. I attempt to login to the GEH task manager on my phone. It's still down. Everyone else looks busy, so I try to blend in, typing Grey Enterprise Holdings into my search engine. Has the breach been made public?
Niall's hand grasps my right shoulder, "I've got some guys to introduce you to." He winks, as four men squirm behind him, peering at me. "Meet the best members of the technical team. They're around your age. Jeremy graduated MIT last year."
I smile, standing up, then remember they can't see my facial expression. Don't shake hands. Got it.
The door squeaks open.
I turn to face the front. My heart beats rapidly.
A thin, pale, lanky young man walks in wearing large black scuba diving goggles over a surgical mask.
It's not him. Christian Grey might not even come in today...or if he does, he'll be barking orders at everyone, like CEOs do in movies. Not sexy. Unlike that picture of him on the boat. I fidget with my hands. Stop thinking about that. Focus on the tech guys. They're impressive. I gape at a cartoon on one of the guy's masks...I've never seen that before.
The tallest one, seeing my interest, stands closer to me. "It's Ricky and Morty. You should watch it sometime."
"Oh, I'll check it out," I say. Not planning too.
He moves closer to me. Too close. The group starts chatting about nihilism and alternative universes, while I'm just nodding along, not really paying attention. I've gotta stop staring at the door. I inch away from the tall guy. There are no butterflies with him. It could be the face masks.
A slamming sound comes from the front of the conference room.
All eyes turn, and I follow their gaze. Holding my breath, recognition sets in. It's him–Christian Grey.