Thank fuck for Elliot, I think as I re-read Ms. Anastasia Rose Steele's background check.

Last night, at the club, I'd sent Elliot and Mia a message, letting them know that I was done for the night and was heading home. I also told them to put their cab fare on me. I did not mention Anastasia. So, imagine my surprise when Elliot comes barging in my bedroom, griping me by my shoulders and shaking me awake, screaming, "Asshole! I thought you were gay!" Even after I landed a punch on his arm, he laughed and cheered, "My baby bro got his cherry popped!"

That comment refreshed my memory, and I searched for my apparent cherry popper, but I couldn't find her. At first, I'd figured Anastasia was hiding in the bathroom from my idiot brother, but he soon explained that he'd run into her at the elevator. "She said she had a family emergency. She said it was a one night's stand." He must have seen something in my expression because he'd quickly added, "Don't worry though. I have her full name so you can have your goons in black find her."

I'd thanked him but then kicked him out when he kept saying how smoking hot Ana was and that I was lucky to have pounced on her first. Elliot's flavor of choice is tall hot blondes, but he'd make an exception for this fun-sized brown-haired beauty—his words, not mine.

That was Saturday morning. Now, it's half-past noon on Monday—over a week since then. I'm sitting hungry behind at my desk and going over Ms. Steele's background check anew. It was a brow-raising background check from start to finish. That she was born and raised in Montesano was probably the only mundane thing in her life. Birth father, Franklin Lambert, died a day after she was born and was adopted a year later by Raymond Steele—who then died in a mugging gone wrong when she was seventeen. Mother, Carla May Wilks Adams, has been married five times, currently divorcing number five.

Anastasia is a bright and smart girl per her straight A's in both high school and university. One thing that I keep going over is her teen years. When Ana was thirteen, her mother divorced Raymond and gave him full custody of Anastasia. Upon his sudden passing, Raymond's best friend and business partner, Cason Westbrook, fostered her until she went to live in the dorms of WSU.

It seems her and this Cason fellow are close because shortly after she moved permanently in Seattle for work, he followed while also uprooting his carpentry business to Seattle. For two months, he was her roommate until he found a place ten minutes away from her apartment on Pike Place. They are the only emergency contacts for each other.

I set her background check down and take a drink from my coffee, thinking. Sex with Anastasia was phenomenal; unlike anything I've experienced, which says a lot. It happened over a week ago, and I'm still thinking about it. I wonder if it's simply having sex with her, or perhaps vanilla isn't as plain and straightforward as I once thought. Somehow, though, I knew it was just her. For God's sakes, she touched me on my no-go areas, and I did not panic or react violently; if anything, I became more aroused. How curious.

Another thing that astounds me is that not only was the sex highly enjoyable, but I genuinely liked speaking to her. Is it another vanilla thing? None of my subs were allowed to talk to me freely; I had nothing I wanted to say to them, and they never held my interest further than taking care of them in and out of the playroom as the contract dictates. And most women I've met at charities, galas, or dinner functions become dim-witted the moment they see my face. The braver—or rather the stupider—ones throw themselves at me when they hear I'm the Christian Grey.

Does Anastasia only have my attention because she offers something I've never experienced?

Whatever the fucking reason, I've decided to extend our one night's stand. I needed to see if the wine and/or four-month dry spell was behind the great vanilla sex. If it wasn't, and it's all her, she has no idea what she's in for.

Perhaps it's childish, but I also want to know why she left without a way for me to contact her. Emergency, my ass.

First things first, I needed to "casually" encounter her. Since Monday of last week, I've had Sawyer keeping an eye on her. He assures me that she's not been with another man since me. Also, for the past week, she's taken her lunch in a little deli down the street from her work alone and always at 1:05. I glance at my watch. Her lunch hour will be starting in fifteen minutes. SIP is three streets down from GEH. If I leave now, walking, I will bump into her on her way there.

My lunch is usually from 12:30 to one on the dot, but I pushed it a half-hour back today. All I had since breakfast was a muffin from the employee's lounge. If I want this to appear real, I can't very well join Anastasia for lunch and then tell her I'd already eaten. I'm just sure that would sit right with her.

I don't want to be late for my "casual encounter" with Anastasia. I stand, and I'm just shrugging on my business jacket when there's a knock on my office door.

"Enter," I say while I fix my collar.

Andrea walks in, a thick file and a manila envelope in her hands. "Mr. Grey, you requested this," she says, indicating the envelope, "and Mr. Welch's assistant just left this for you." Andrea holds up the file.

"Yes," I reply, walking around my desk towards her. "Thank you, Andrea." I set them both on my desk. One is for Anastasia to sign, and the other is a background check of her former foster father. Call my paranoid, but something is warning me to not turn a blind eye on Mr. Westbrook. Hence, a background check. "I'm leaving for lunch. Notify Taylor." I pat my pockets, making sure I have my wallet and phone. "Also, cancel my next appointment please."

I've got to give it to Andrea; she didn't bat an eye over my unusual decision to have lunch an hour late. Ever formal as I pay her to be, she replies, "Of course, Mr. Grey. What shall I tell Ms. Lincoln?"

Elena? How the fuck does this concern her? At my questioning expression, Andrea explains, "She's scheduled between 1:45 and 2:25. I believe she is bringing in her salon's monthly spreadsheets for you to look over, but her secretary wasn't clear."

I pinch the bridge on my nose, annoyed. Last month, I'd gone to New York for a week to finalize a deal. Elena had called before my flight back that she had a surprise for me and to let her know when I arrived home. I thought she meant that she'd found me a sub but as it was the middle of the night, I decided to head straight to bed. I'd settled in bed, back to the mattress, when someone sat down on my stomach, covered my mouth, and shh'ed me in my ear. Instinctively, I punched at the profile of the intruder. To make a long story short, Elena was my surprise, and I punched two of her teeth out. We haven't spoken since. I told her, after taking her to a hospital, that she crossed a line and to not contact me until I contacted her.

I exhale loudly. I wasn't ready to face Elena again. Partly because I feel a bit guilty and mostly because I was still pissed she'd tried something so stupid. During the ride to the hospital, she claimed she was doing it to help me blow off steam, but I secretly believed she was beginning to feel insecure with her age. Two of her last submissives left her for women twenty years her junior.

"Cancel it." I finally say to Andrea, who was waiting patiently. "Tell her secretary that if she needs assistance with the spreadsheets to hire someone. Do not schedule appointments for her until I give the okay."

"Yes, sir," Andrea says. Before she walks out, she tells me to enjoy my lunch.

I will, I think to myself, once Ms. Steele is alongside me.

I'm in the elevator, reminiscing of when I nearly took Anastasia in my private one at Escala. If the damn ride up had taken any longer, I'm certain I would have just taken her there and then. Hell, if my CPO hadn't been driving us, I'd fucked her in the car. Just the mental picture of her riding me in the front seat of my R8 was causing a stir in my pants. Car sex with Anastasia is going on my to-do list.

I breath in deeply. Soon I'll have her underneath me again. I know not today, but we can schedule a date or something. A date is out of my comfort zone; however, I have hope it won't come to that. As Anastasia was rather keen to have me in between her legs a week ago, I have no doubt that the attraction and pull I feel for her is not one-sided. Yet if she decides that she wants a date before we have sex again, I'll be willing to do that, too. Only for her.

The elevator doors open to the reception area of the first floor. It's mostly deserted apart from one of the receptionists. As I walk past her, she smiles and greets me. I spy Taylor waiting by the entrance with his hands folded over each other in front of him.

"Sir," Taylor says. Unlike Andrea, Taylor is well aware of my sudden desire to go out for lunch. I briefly wonder what his thoughts of my abnormal behavior are. Since he's been in my employ, I have not ever chased a girl. Even if my end goal is more sex, the fact that I'm actively seeking her out must puzzle him. It puzzles me. Why shouldn't it puzzle him?

I nod in acknowledgement. Together, we head out into the chill of mid-October. The weather isn't bothersome to me, but I hope Anastasia is wearing a jacket. I wouldn't want her catching a cold and canceling on me. I plan for us to be together Friday night.

I begin my stroll down the block, Taylor keeping just a few steps behind me. When I'm a little more than halfway there, I cross the street. I'm just passing SIP's front door when I spy a certain small brunette woman some odd feet away. Anastasia. From behind, I can see she has her hair braided and tossed over her shoulder. Also, she's wearing a black coat that reaches her bare calves. For fuck's sakes, she's wearing a skirt in this weather?

I grimace. When she's mine, I'll make sure she dresses more warmly. A coat can only do so much. I pick up my pace. Anastasia is now slightly ahead of me. It's time to make my move, as my dear big brother would say.

Reaching out to touch her elbow, I say, "Excuse me, Miss?"

Anastasia looks over her shoulder at me and does a double take. Her eyes and mouth pop open in shock. I hold back a chuckle at her comical expression.

I give her my best smirk, and say, "Anastasia?" in feigned surprise. She turns her body completely around, facing me.

She blinks a few times as if she doesn't quite believe I'm in front of her. After a few more seconds of her openly gawking at me, she finally smiles back. "Christian? Hi. How are you?" She walks over to me and kisses my cheek. I feel a little something when her lips touch my skin. A little tingle in my chest.

"I'm doing good," I reply after kissing her soft cheek. "I hope you're well. My brother told me about your 'emergency.'" I didn't mean for it to come out like that, but I had my goons in black—as Elliot calls them—check all hospital admissions and police reports to only find nothing. The closest thing to family she has on this side of the country is her former foster dad, and he was completely fine this whole past week.

Anastasia pulls back a step and raises both eyebrows, surprised. "Um, yeah." She tucks an escaped strand of hair behind her ear. "One of my best friends was in the hospital."

Oh, friend. Not family. "I'm sorry to hear that. Is she all right?" Most women consider their girlfriends family, don't they? Mia does, but I thought it was just her.

"He," she emphasizes, "is doing okay. Thanks for asking."

"Good to hear." A guy best friend? He was probably gay, then. No competition there. "Are you on your lunch?"

Anastasia nods and eyes my watch. "What time is it?"

I quickly look. "1:12." She looks behind her, at the deli I assume. "I'm getting a snack at the deli further down the street. Join me."

"I'm headed there myself." Anastasia bites her lip, and I suppress a groan. Christ, maybe I should have "bumped" into her this past Friday. Now I'll have to wait all fucking week. "I'm actually meeting someone for lunch."

What. The. Fuck? "Really?" I ask, grinding my teeth. She fucking met someone? Already? She fucked me not ten days ago! She met someone? Inside, I'm seething; on the outside, I'm smiling. My cheeks are beginning to hurt. "With who?"

"A friend of mine. I've known him all my life," she states. Relief courses throughout my body. Anastasia said friend. Another guy friend. That's not so bad. I'm sure he's gay, too. Mia loves her male gay friends. "If you don't mind, you can join us."

I'm startled out of my thoughts. Anastasia stares at me, smiling eagerly. "I'm sorry. Can you repeat that?"

She giggles. Shit, that ache again. "I'm inviting you to have lunch with my friend and me, seeing as you're going to the same place."

An invite to lunch with her and her friend? Not how I envisaged this going, but beggars can't be choosers. "Sure. I'm in." I grin at her sincerely. She's behaving a lot better than I imagined, too. I figured I'd have to turn up the charm to convince her, but this is better. She was happy to see me. Maybe she truly was in a rush on Saturday morning.

"Great." We start to walk, shoulder to shoulder. Or rather, shoulder to head, even in her nude heels.

With her so close, I fight the urge to put my arm around her shoulders. I'd never done that as the risk of someone touching me would be high. Regardless, Anastasia might not appreciate it. She seems like a little friendly butterfly, but everyone has their personal space. Besides, it's too familiar a gesture. This is our second meeting.

Soon, we come upon the deli. Smiling, I hold the door open for Anastasia. From the corner of my eye, I see Taylor four feet away. I'd almost forgotten he was there behind us.

Seems this place is popular. A line of eight people stand in front the cashier. I look down at Anastasia. "Is your friend here?"

"Not from what I can see." Anastasia licks her lips and clutches at the strap of her small purse.

"Find us a table. I'll order for us."

She smiles at me. "Thanks, but I ordered my sandwich online. You choose a table. Online orders have their own register." I look over at where she's pointing. Hiding behind the first line is another cashier with a sign that reads, "Online orders only." Two people stood there. The cashier and a costumer. I wonder if that's how Andrea could normally get me my lunch fast at other eateries.

When I returned my gaze to hers, she adds, "I know the cashier. She and I had classes together. She'll let me order another sandwich."

"But it's online orders only, Ms. Steele," I tease. "You're a rebel." I'm rewarded with a laugh.

"Shut up. What do you want?"

I look up the menu hanging over the counter. "Grilled California Club with a water please." I start taking out my wallet.

Anastasia holds up her hand. "No. My treat."

I scoff, retrieving my credit card. "I'm not about to let the lady pay, Anastasia." I try to hand it to her, but she refuses it.

"I invited you, so therefore, I pay," she insists. An endearing pout starts to form on her lips.

Cute, but she's still not paying. "Regardless, I'm the man so I'm paying."

With a dramatic huff and roll of her eyes, she gives up. "Fine." The card now in her grip she walks off.

"My palm is twitching, Ms. Steele," I say under my breath. Her ass, though only hinted at under her coat, looks so inviting to smack. This weekend I'll see if little Ms. Steele is up for some kinky fuckery.

I glance around the little deli and spy Taylor near the back. He sits at a small table meant for only two people. Close to him is a booth. As I walk over there, I wonder if Anastasia will sit beside me or her friend. Soon enough after I've chosen the side that puts everyone in my line of sight, Anastasia comes forward with a tray. I stand and take it from her hands, setting it and our food on the table.

"Is it alright if we share a seat? My friend doesn't like sharing." Anastasia indicates the side I've picked to sit. I nod and grin. She picked me.

She scoots herself in and begins to separate our sandwiches and drinks. I sit next to her, bumping my shoulder to hers.

"Before I forget," Anastasia digs in her coat pocket, "here is your credit card."

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it." I pull out my wallet, slide my card in, and put it all back inside my jacket's hidden pocket.

Anastasia smiles playfully. "Nope. Seeing as I still paid with my card, it wasn't hard at all." She laughs as I look at her in disbelief.

I chuckle, looking into her blue eyes that are filled with mirth. It reminds me of her teasing me at the club. I lean close and whisper in her ear. "You'll pay for that, Anastasia." Her eyes darken and she bites her lip.

Just as I'm about to lean in and kiss her, someone clears their throat. I straighten in my seat and look up at the fucker who interrupted us. A tall man stands next to the booth.

"Rose," the man says, smiling down at her. When his focus shifts to me, his eyes turn cold. "You failed to mention someone was joining us."

I created a Pinterest for this story. Look up the board Fifty Shades Paralleled under pinner Janine Diaz.

Massive thanks to all who've reviewed, followed, and favorite-d.