Hi everyone! I suck at updating, but I'm actively trying to do a better job with it. The next chapter will be from Christian's POV, and since it was supposed to be posted alongside this one, it should be out by this time next week. Since this was already more than 8,000 words (which I did not intend), I decided to edit Ana's POV and finish/edit Christian's to post it as a separate chapter.

Anyway, you get a little bit of Kate in this chapter. I wanted her and Ana to have a more solid relationship. While they were protective of one another in the series, Ana was so hesitant to tell Kate anything (even before the NDA!). I just wanted them to have a super close, fun relationship.

Enjoy! And as always, please review and let me know about any errors. I do all the editing myself and I probably missed some!

Chapter 5: Phone Calls and Kisses

June 5, 2011

Ana

I did not sleep well last night. My dreams were erratic and interspersed with the charged presence of a certain handsome, gray-eyed, copper-haired man. I woke up more than once to the phantom feeling of Christian's hands roaming my body, so when I finally fell into a deep slumber very early this morning, I was relieved.

However, before I even had the chance to finish one full REM cycle, my first heavy, dreamless sleep of the night is interrupted by the loud, obnoxious cry of Katherine Kavanagh's personalized ringtone, a techno, wordless rendition of Def Leppard's Pour Some Sugar On Me. She, of course, assigned this tune to herself after I made the mistake of calling her 'sweet' for attempting to make me dinner one night. It was a disaster that resulted in our calling in two orders of Eggplant Parmigiana from an Italian restaurant close to our apartment in Portland.

I sit up quickly, my hand flying to my chest as I draw in deep, panicked gulps of air. I turn toward the noise of the incoming call and grab blindly at the surface of the small bedside table to my left, my eyes still adjusting to the light permeating through the curtains of the bedroom.

"Why did I leave my ringer on when I went to bed?" I ask, scolding myself at the same time. I didn't want to miss Mia's call, or pass up the chance to see Christian for the second time in two days…Oh yeah. Both valid reasons.

"Good morning Katherine," I groan, still out of breath from the shock of having been woken up from a deep sleep.

"Oh. Did I wake you?" She sounds apologetic, but in her tone I sense a hint of enjoyment in causing me misery. Kate knows what time it is here and she knows how much I enjoy sleeping in. She doesn't do 'innocent' well.

"Yes, yes you did," I yawn.

"Sorry Banana, but I need to talk to you. We've never gone this long without speaking, and I miss you."

I sigh. It's true, Kate and I have barely gone a day without talking in the four years we've known one another. "Awe," I drawl. "I miss you too, Katie. What's up?" I lay back down in bed, tunneling under the covers and relishing in the too-cheerful-for-this-hour sound of my best friend's voice.

"Not much today. It's raining and Ethan's being a boner." I can hear the frown that is most likely marring her pretty face.

I laugh a little bit. "What's Ethan doing to bother you?"

"He's studying for the GRE like some humongous nerd. He keeps flip-flopping between going to grad school and not going to grad school. I want to go shopping though, and my parents are out sightseeing." Only Kate would look at Ethan's preference for studying over shopping as being neglectful.

"Well, princess, I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to shop. You still have over a week there." I snuggle deeper under the covers, curling myself into a ball and adjusting my body to better accommodate what I'm sure will be a long conversation.

"That's what Ethan said." She's pouting, actually pouting like a child.

"What time is it there?" It's only 9:00 here, so… "Like noon?"

"Mmm-hmmm. The weather is supposed to clear up in a couple hours, so I plan on hitting the beach this afternoon to work on my tan some more."

"Tell me what you've been up to. I want to hear everything." Kate goes into a long monologue regarding all of the adventures she's had so far: deep-sea fishing, scuba diving, clubbing with 'sexy' local men, zip-lining, and other things people only do when on vacation in paradise. Her jubilation is clear, and I can't help the frequent smile that overtakes my face or the small giggles that escape my mouth from time to time.

"Sea sick. My dad actually got sea sick, but when I said something he denied it. If you were to ask him the next time you see him, Alec Kavanagh will say that he had the flu!" I love the stories of Kate's family, and she's always eager to share. "Well, enough about me. What's been going on with you?"

"Not much." A lot.

"I feel awful for leaving you all by your lonesome. I hope you've managed some fun without me."

"I made a friend. She's been introducing me to the city, and last night I went to dinner at her parents house with her family. I think you'll love her." Kate and Mia have so much in common, which probably explains why Mia and I became so close so fast.

"You, making friends?! That's great!" I hate her. In this moment, I hate my best friend. "I am from Seattle, Ana. If she's around our age, I might already know her. What's her name?"

"Mia."

"Mia…?" She's already growing impatient with my delicately doled out information. Take that for implying I can't make friends on my own.

"Grey. Mia Grey."

"Grey? As in Christian I'm-not-gay Grey's sister?" Oh, Kate, he's definitely not gay.

I force a laugh. "Um, yeah. He was at dinner last night, as well."

"Oh? And?"

"And nothing. Just…he was at dinner last night."

"He's such an asshole, but he's super fucking hot, right?" I close my eyes and my mind conjures up an image of Christian. My memory does not do that man justice. He was omnipresent in every one of my subconscious thoughts all night. I might not remember every lingering detail, but those that have slipped are right on the edge of memory and they feel like they must have been just as good as the rest.

I let out a slow breath to gather my thoughts before continuing. I can't talk to Mia about this, or at least I don't think I can, and if it were any other guy, I wouldn't hesitate to talk to Kate about him. I just need a little advice on how to deal with the situation. I'm attracted to him, ridiculously so, and I've never felt such an instinctual, intrinsic pull toward a man before, but he's so far out of my league: crazy sexy, smart, successful…

"Ana?" Apparently I let my thoughts take me away for a little too long.

"He gave me a ride home," I say quietly, knowing full-well that by divulging this tid-bit of information I'll have to answer the guaranteed questions of a soon-to-be-patented Katherine Kavanagh Inquisition. If she were here though, I would have told her everything already.

"Who?"

"Christian Grey."

"From dinner?"

"No, from church." I pause momentarily to properly roll my eyes. "Yes, from dinner."

"And?"

"Kate," I pause, "I think…I think I might like him? It's a problem." I can feel my teeth biting tightly into my bottom lip as Kate sucks in a deep breath.

"You don't think he's gay? Because if he is, Ana-"

"No," I blurt out, with a little too much enthusiasm. I know that Kate's getting ready to tell me about that one time she tried to turn a gay man straight. I tried telling her at the time that it just doesn't work that way, but she did not listen. "I mean, he's definitely not gay."

"Definitely. Not. Gay," says Kate, enunciating each syllable to drive the point that she understand the implication of what I've just said. "What happened, Steele? Tell me everything! And I don't feel like pulling and torturing every tiny, measly tidbit of information out of you, so just tell me."

I sigh, audibly, trying to gather my thoughts and decide on what Kate needs to know. Again, I wait too long to speak and Kate starts in on my unwillingness to share pertinent information, but I interrupt her.

"He almost kissed me. Twice. And, there's this crazy, like, energy or something between us." I groan and close my eyes tightly. "I don't know what to do."

"Okay." Kate takes a deep breath, and I know I'm in for a long one. "One. I am beyond upset about missing your first crush. You've been out on dates with plenty of men before, but you've never so much as given any indication that you might actually like any of them. Two. I can't believe he's not gay. I definitely thought I was right on that one," she says thoughtfully, and I picture her hand coming to her nose to rub gentle, calming strokes along the bridge. "And three. What do you mean you don't know what to do?! Are you going to see him again?"

"Yes. The Greys invited me to this charity dinner thing at their house next weekend. I was wondering if you'd be opposed to me raiding your closet. It's formal, like red carpet formal, and I don't really have anything to wear." I'm just asking as a formality, I know Kate will be more than willing to let me use anything in her closet. The joys of having a best friend and roommate who shares your dress and shoe size.

"Of course you can raid my closet. Why are you even asking? In fact, I have this blue, beaded thing-Elie Saab, I think-that I've never worn. It will look awesome on you. Totally bring out your eyes. It's in the black garment bag in the back of the closet, and you're wearing it. Don't even bother looking at the other ones."

"Ooookay."

"Wait!"

"Me wait?"

"Yes, you wait. I have a white dress. That's the one you need to wear. Seriously forget about the black garment bag and the blue dress. You need to wear the white dress. And my white Louboutins. Red lips. Red nails. I can see it now." She sounds dreamy, like her eyes are closed and she's deep in thought. "I know you don't normally eat junk food, but I'm assuming you've been eating a lot of ice cream because you're depressed that I'm not around. You need to lay off it, or this dress won't look good on you." Kate lets out a loud whooping laugh, but she's the only one laughing, as usual.

There was one week our junior year of college-one freaking miserable week-in which I was depressed over missing my mother's wedding and ate a pint of Ben and Jerry's nearly every day in my sad state. I gained like five pounds, and Kate had to cut off my supply. It was for the best, but now whenever I'm the tiniest bit upset Kate has to make some offhand comment about my depressed brain's obsession with the brownie and cookie-dough goodness otherwise known as Ben and Jerry's Half-Baked. It drives me crazy, but Kate's ribbing playfulness is one of my favorite aspects of her complex personality.

"God, Kate! You're such a brat."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes. You. Are."

"You're going to look so hot. I'm picturing you in that dress, all glammed up. Christian Grey, and every other attendee with a penis, is not going to know what hit him." Despite being in different time zones, I know Kate is still smiling from her bad ice cream joke and now smiling wider because she said penis. She acts like she's in middle school whenever lewd body parts are mentioned. "Now, tell me what you meant by you don't know what to do."

"You know what I mean."

"No, I don't. Explain." Kate sounds like she means business.

"Kate, he's ridiculously good looking and I'm just…meh. And he's a billionaire. Let's not forget that he's Mia's brother. And you hate him." Kate is eerily and uncharacteristically quiet for a touch too long on the other end of the line. "Kate?"

"Hold on." She pauses, and I begin to panic. "Too much of what you just said is ridiculous. I'm frustrated with you and I'm trying really hard not to yell at you right meow." Great, here it comes. After another minute or two, she takes another deep breath, indicating that whatever she's about to say will probably take a while. "Ana, you are beyond beautiful. Hot! Sexy! Gorgeous! I hate hearing you say anything to the contrary. You are not 'meh,' and any guy, even a handsome megalomaniac billionaire, would think themselves lucky to have you on their arm. As for Christian being your friend's brother…I'm sure Mia would love for someone like you to date her brother. I mean, how many times have I begged you, pleaded with you to give Ethan a chance?" She pauses for my answer to what I thought was a hypothetical question.

"A few…" I trail off.

"A few, you say?! Way more than a few. If I could choose someone for my brother, it would be you or someone exactly like you. So, stop with that. If you're really concerned about it, talk to Mia. Your last issue was me hating him? I hate almost everyone, except you and a select few others, but they're barely tolerable, so that part of your argument is…weak, unsound, inaccurate, ridiculous." Kate stops to take in a deep, frustrated breath. "Grey was an asshole in that interview, but if you think you like him, then he can't be that bad. I mean, you love me and I'm absolutely, undeniably fucking awesome."

We both laugh, and as usual talking to Kate has helped to alleviate some of the issues I was dealing with last night. I know I can tell her anything. She's never judged me and I never have to worry about her jumping to conclusions.

"How do you always manage to make me feel better?" I ask breathlessly.

"I just told you, Ana…I'm fucking awesome," she deadpans and a huge smile takes over my face. I'm hit full force with the love I feel for my best friend.

"I miss you."

"I miss you, too. Now tell me what else is going on in Seattle." I take in a deep breath, getting ready to comment on the weather, but before I can say anything Kate interrupts. "And don't tell me it's raining because I know that's what you were about to say."

"Ha! That's where you're wrong, Katherine. It's a beautiful, sunny day in Seattle, Washington."

Kate and I talk for another thirty minutes. I tell her about my new job and she tells me about some of the guys she's met in Barbados, as well as the bevy of ladies flocking around her hunky brother at all times. Before hanging up, Kate and I decide to Skype on Friday night so she can see what I'll look like in the dress and give me the help we're both sure I'll need in deciding on jewelry, shoes, makeup, and hair. I, of course, am allowed-required, actually-to raid both Kate's jewelry and handbag collections for accessories.

It's twenty after ten when Kate and I finally hang up. Though I'm tempted to stay snuggled underneath my covers and go back to sleep, I make the difficult decision of getting up, knowing that I have errands to run before I start at SIP tomorrow morning. Luckily, there are a lot of stores within walking distance, so I can get most everything done without Wanda.

Thinking about my beloved vehicle brings me back to thoughts of dinner, which, of course, lead me to thoughts of Christian since he might have Wanda. I wonder if I'll get to see him today, or just Taylor.

After a quick cup of tea and a light breakfast, I hop in the shower and go about getting ready for the day. I decide to let my hair air dry and put on some light make-up, sticking only to a little bit of mascara and powder. Since I'll be walking around for much of the day, I decide to dress comfortably and casually in a pair of well-worn skinny jeans, a t shirt, and sneakers.

Throughout the routine of getting ready, my eyes frequently drift to the screen of my phone. I'm beyond anxious for Mia's call, and both excited and nervous at the possibility of seeing Christian again. His presence in my dreams last night went beyond anything I've experienced with a living, breathing member of the opposite sex. Now all I can think about is touching him and him touching me, which might be an issue if I do happen to see him today.

I can't help but think back to my morning conversation with Kate. Should I talk to Mia about this? On the phone last night she mentioned that she and Elliot think that Christian likes me, but I can't help my brain's immediate reaction to that thought: Why would someone like Christian Grey find someone like me the least bit attractive? He's accomplished so much, but I've accomplished nothing more than four years of college. There's a clear and drastic dichotomy between the two of us, and his accomplishments and my lack thereof are the least of it.

He looks like a GQ model, and I'm the stereotypical 'plain Jane.' The women he's used to dating are probably of Victoria's Secret model caliber, and worlds more experienced than I am to boot. Christian is a billionaire from a wealthy family, and I have about $3,000.00 in both my checking and savings accounts combined. The only thing we might have in common is a mutual attraction to one another, but in my mind even that is doubtful. Again, how could he ever be interested in me? We probably won't see one another until the weekend anyway, so I'll just go on with my life and try my best to push Christian Grey out of my thoughts. Dirty thoughts…

Shoving my phone in my pocket and my wallet in Kate's Captain Planet reusable grocery bag, I head out of my apartment, making sure the door is locked not once or twice, but three different times. With Kate on vacation I can't help but feel a bit unsettled when it comes to my personal safety, especially now that I'm living in a new city. Besides, Kate's the one who always carries pepper spray, takes self-defense classes, and sleeps with a baseball bat next to her bed. Without her around, I'm pretty useless and lacking in the defense department. I guess making sure the door is locked is the least I can do to protect myself.

When I reach the sidewalk, I take a left and decide that groceries will have to wait until I have Wanda back. It probably isn't wise to purchase yogurt then walk around all day with it in my bag. I stop by the drugstore to grab some face lotion with SPF, a new tube of mascara, and various office supplies I need in the apartment. While in the checkout line, I grab a pair of super cheap gray marbled sunglasses to battle Seattle's abnormally cheery weather.

Just as I step out on the sidewalk, I feel my pocket vibrate. I take in a deep gulp of air and attempt to pump myself up before looking at the caller ID. It isn't Mia. The number comes up as 'private caller,' and I let out my deep breath before pressing the call button. It's probably just Taylor. A man like Christian Grey doesn't have time to deal with peanuts like me.

"Hello?" I say, a little too breathy.

"Hi, Ana? This is Christian." The masculine rasp of his voice sends my body into overdrive. My cheeks flush, my heart rate increases, and my hands begin to sweat profusely. "Grey. This is Christian Grey." Does he sound nervous? I think he sounds nervous…

"Oh, um…hi, Christian. I was expecting Mia to call." I sound eager, too eager, and I have to stop myself from finishing the sentence with, 'But I'm glad you did instead.'

"She's still in bed. Apparently she and Elliot got into dad's liquor after we took off last night," he says, letting out a deep, libido-stimulating chuckle. "They're both nursing nasty hangovers."

"Mia did mention that Elliot has had that effect on her in the past," I giggle in response.

He audibly exhales, but when he speaks I can hear his smile. "He has the same effect on our father."

"Oh?"

"From what I've gathered, Carrick had one too many stingers last night. When Taylor and I went to get your," he coughs, and I get the impression that he does not approve of Wanda, "car, my mom had him and Elliot doing some lawn work in preparation for next weekend's events, even though she has gardeners coming later this week. They looked miserable."

"And Mia doesn't have to help?" I try hard to sound surprised at Mia's lack of involvement in the punishment, but I'm really not all that surprised. In truth, I'm just not ready to end the call.

He chuckles. "Of course not! Mia's the queen of the proverbial Grey castle. Obviously, it was Elliot's fault she got so drunk last night," he says with wry amusement. "I got out of there as fast as I could. If I know my mother as well as I think I do, she would have found some ancient transgression bad enough to set me off to work too."

"Well, I'm glad you escaped unscathed," I tease, cradling the phone between my ear and my shoulder, wiping my sweaty hands on my thighs as I walk down the busy street.

"Almost unscathed," he corrects with a riant tone. "Mia wouldn't give me your number until I agreed to take her out to dinner this week."

"That won't be so bad." I feel a frisson of excitement at the idea of him bargaining with his hungover sister for my phone number. Maybe Kate was right.

"Let's hope so. She gets to choose the restaurant too, so who knows where we'll end up."

"I know from experience that she has excellent taste when it comes to her restaurant choices. I think you're safe on that front," I say, still smiling goofily.

"She may have excellent taste, but she also has expensive taste."

"From what I've heard about you, Christian, you can afford it." I giggle and hear him chuckling on the other end.

"Fair point well made, Anastasia."

"It's Ana!" As much as I love the way his voice seems to caress my name, it sounds too strange to hear someone call me by my full name. Even my parents haven't called me Anastasia since I moved to college and they both lost the power to ground me.

"Ana, right. Sorry."

"No need to apologize, Christian." He takes in a sharp breath, one that I'm convinced he's holding. Neither one of us says anything, and an awkward silence permeates the phone lines. I clear my throat. "So, about my car…"

"Oh yeah," he says, "I have it."

"And where do you have it, sir?" I can't help the nervous giggles that continually bubble up my throat.

"At my place," he blurts out, then clarifies. "At Escala. Taylor can come pick you up." Does that mean I won't see him? I can't help the disappointment I feel at the thought.

"That's okay; I'm already out, running errands and whatnot. I'll walk over." I could use the time to gather my scattered wits before possibly encountering Christian Grey once again.

"You'll have to come up to get your keys. I'll send Taylor down to wait for you in the lobby. He'll bring you up."

"Okay." He'll send Taylor down to bring me up? I guess I will be seeing Christian sooner than I thought. I'll be going up to Christian Grey's apartment, alone. All of last night's worries about throwing myself at him in the back of his vehicle race to the forefront of my mind, and the butterflies I put to rest before bed last night come back to beat around my stomach with a vengeance.

"Have you had lunch?" He asks, and my heart beats impossibly faster.

"No, I haven't." If I were twelve, I would be crossing my fingers.

"I'll wait for you then. We'll eat together?" My face splits into a huge smile. Not only will I see Christian, but I'll get to have lunch with him. If I weren't walking along a busy street, I probably would have broken into a happy dance.

"That sounds lovely!" Too excited, Steele. Chill out before you scare him off. "I mean, I could definitely use something to eat. What will we be having?"

"Well, don't get too excited, Ana. My culinary skills pretty much end with microwavable leftovers and cold sandwiches, so it will be one or the other."

I laugh again. "Hmm. Either one sounds great. I'll see you in like, 20 minutes or so?"

"I'll be waiting. See you then, Ana."

"See you then, Christian," I breathe, sounding more like Jan Brady trying to seduce her brother in the Brady Bunch Movie than myself. I take my phone away from my ear and stare at the screen until I see the call has been dropped on the other end. I can't bring myself to hang up, even though I'll be seeing Christian shortly.

Despite the doubt that has run rampant through my mind since last night, the conversations I had with Christian and with Kate about Christian have restored a modest amount of my confidence. I'm resolved to the fact that I'll have to talk to Mia about my crush if it persists. All I can do for now is hope that after we do talk she doesn't hate me or shove me into the group of untrustworthy friends alongside Lily. For now, I'll just wait the situation out. While I doubt Christian Grey likes me, as Mia insisted last night, he did try to kiss me. Twice. And, he went out of his way to see me today.

After returning the phone to my pocket, I realize that I'm practically skipping down the street with an exultant smile plastered to my face. I can't help but be grateful that Kate can't see me now; if she had been around for that phone call and for the aftermath, I would never live it down. I've seen her act this way about plenty of men, but considering I've never shown any real interest in anyone, I know that my behavior would warrant at least two weeks worth of near-constant ridicule. My lack of a love life was enough of a joke to Kate. Romantic interest would surely only increase her desire to make jokes.

The walk from the drugstore to Escala only takes about fifteen minutes. Before going inside to meet Taylor, I take a moment to prepare myself. As soon as I'm out front, those butterflies start flapping in my belly with renewed vigor. I take a few deep, calming breaths, and stare at myself in the reflective glass of the building.

You will not make a fool of yourself, I tell myself firmly and silently. Despite the affirmation, I'm pretty sure I'll make a fool of myself, but I refuse to be resigned to the inevitable. I smooth out my naturally dried tresses to the best of my ability, then take a deep reassuring breath and let myself into the opulent building.

Escala's lobby is magnificent, to put it mildly. The floor is marble and an elevator bank is located in the area to the left of a beautiful staircase. Several steps in front of me is a reception desk with a finely dressed middle-aged woman standing behind it, fiddling with a tablet, and ignoring my entrance. When I step to the counter and clear my throat, she lifts her head to smile brightly at me and I return the polite gesture.

"Good afternoon. How may I help you?" she says, sounding cheery yet official and professional at the same time.

"Hello," I reply brightly. "I'm supposed to be meeting someone…," I swallow, feeling awkward with the realization that I don't know Taylor's last name, "… umm, someone named Taylor in the lobby." A coy smile plays on her lips, and she raises an eyebrow in my direction, giving me a once-over, and leaving me feeling slightly uncomfortable and even more unsure of myself. I probably should have dressed better. "My name's Ana."

"Follow me." She comes around the desk and makes her way toward a hidden elevator located in a covert alcove around the corner from her station. Taylor is standing just before the doors and nods in my direction as I walk toward him.

"Hello Taylor," I smile.

He nods at me once again. "Miss Steele." His eyes flit to the woman who escorted me over, and I hear her heels begin to click in a swift retreat back to her desk. I cover the remaining distance to Taylor.

"I hope Wanda didn't give you too much trouble this morning."

"Wanda?"

"My car," I smile. "She can be quite trying at times. Refusing to start and the like." The elevator doors ding open, and Taylor uses his right hand to usher me inside ahead him. Such a gentleman…

"She drove just fine, Miss Steele," he says with his back to me while entering a code into a keypad.

"Well that's surprising." The doors close and we begin our ascent to Christian's floor. I look at the buttons, and notice that we're headed to the top floor, the penthouse. I should have assumed he lived in the lap of luxury, but it's so far out of my realm of experience that the quality of his living arrangements never even entered my mind.

"I was surprised, though." Taylor steps back and looks at me. "It's a manual transmission and the power steering is nonexistent. You must get a workout every day driving that thing."

I smile at Taylor. "My dad wanted me to have a manual vehicle. He said that it would deter my friends from wanting to drive it, but I'm sure her looks alone worked to that effect. The steering just drove that point home, though."

Taylor's pointer finger goes to his temple and taps twice. "Smart man, your dad."

"Very smart," I nod in confirmation, smiling. I am definitely a daddy's girl through and through. As much as I love my mother, I owe my dad a world of gratitude for taking me on as his own blood when he married my mom and again when they divorced. Not a day goes by that I doubt his devotion to me, and I wish I could say the same for my mom; she tends to put herself first, but I've accepted that aspect of her personality at this point in my life. If I hadn't been so accepting, I would be continually disappointed.

I turn my head to find Taylor eyeing me quizzically, so I smile at him. His lips tick up just a bit, and I beam at the chink in Taylor's stoic façade.

"Christian didn't want to give Wanda a ride?" I giggle.

Taylor shakes his head, and his smile grows a tiny bit bigger. "No. Mr. Grey did not want to drive your car."

The doors to the elevator open into an all-white foyer. My eyes scan the area as Taylor escorts me out of the elevator and into the room. In the middle is a round, dark wood table, and on it is an enormous vase with a large bunch of white orchids. Those must have cost a fortune. The walls are covered with paintings, but I'm not given the proper amount of time to examine the images because Taylor urges me further into the penthouse and through a set of heavy double doors.

We cross a wide corridor-again, all in white-and head into a palatial-sized room that appears to be the main living area. The ceiling is double height and the far wall is glass, boasting an incredible view across the Seattle skyline and beyond. It's an undeniably beautiful space, but the monochrome color scheme is sterile, giving off a cold and impersonal vibe. The only color comes from the multitude of paintings lining the walls. In all honesty, Christian's place looks more like an art gallery than it does a home.

"May I take your bags Miss Steele?" Taylor's voice rouses me from the silent inspection I've been conducting of Christian's apartment. I turn to face him.

"Sure," I say, handing him the bags. "And it's Ana. Please call me Ana." The corners of Taylor's mouth prick up in an almost imperceptible smile. "Taylor?"

"Yes ma'am?" I scowl at him, realizing that he is not going to call me Ana.

"What's your last name?"

"Taylor." What?

"Taylor Taylor?" I ask, clearly confused.

"Jason Taylor," he corrects, and I swear his smile grows from almost imperceptible to a full-on smirk.

"Oh…" That makes sense, I guess.

"Why do you ask?"

"I didn't know who to ask for at the front desk," I explain. "I mean, I knew I was coming to visit Christian, but he told me you would be meeting me. But, now I know."

"Everyone calls me Taylor. Ms. Funke knew who you were talking about," he reassures me. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go inform Mr. Grey of your arrival." Taylor turns around and vacates the room, leaving me alone.

The apprehension and anxiety I've been feeling toward this situation all morning hit me full force with Taylor's absence. All of those those uneasy thoughts regarding the difference between Christian Grey and little Anastasia Steele are fortified with my current surroundings. This room alone is bigger than Kate and my apartment, which admittedly is quite a bit larger than anything I could afford if the Kavanaghs weren't significantly subsidizing my meager rent payments.

Taking a deep breath and reminding myself that I was invited into Christian Grey's home by the man himself, I start to wander around the room in an attempt to ease my pessimistic inner dialogue. This place is seriously amazing.

It's an open floor plan, so the dining room, great room, and kitchen all occupy the same humongous space. The u-shaped sofa in the sitting room faces an awe-inspiring stainless steel modern fireplace, and the fire is lit, flaming gently. The kitchen area is state of the art. It is literally my dream kitchen, all stainless steel appliances, dark wood worktops, and a breakfast bar that seats six. Beautiful. The dining table is surrounded by sixteen chairs, and in the same space a full sized, shiny black grand piano sits. Of course Mr. Perfection plays piano.

Despite the remarkable surroundings, I notice the absence of any real personality. There are no family photos, nothing personal to connect a real person to the space. It's so sterile, cold. If it weren't for the magnificent view and balcony, I wouldn't have been drawn any deeper into the space. I stand at the windows and contemplate the type of person who has such an impersonal living area. The only thing the voices in my overactive mind can agree on is that the stark space indicates that Christian must be incredibly lonely. It's a sad thought.

My silent musing are interrupted after only a few minutes by the low murmur of two distinct male voices. The tiny hairs on my arms and on the back of my neck prick up the moment I hear his deep voice. Swoon!

"Just bring Anastasia's bags down to her car before you leave. She shouldn't be carrying those around; they look a little heavy," Christian says from a distance, out of my field of vision.

"Yes, sir. An-Miss Steele's car key is in your office," Taylor replies, getting closer. Ha! He almost called me Ana!

"That's good." Taylor and Christian stroll into the space through a large archway on the far side of the room. Those discerning gray eyes find mine and he shoots me a brief smile before turning back to a rather stoic-looking Taylor. "I won't need you until morning. We'll go on our usual circuit. 6:00?" Both men nod in silent masculine agreement. "Have a nice time with your daughter," Christian adds with a slightly uncomfortable tone, as if the statement were an afterthought. He and Taylor turn away from one another at the same moment, and Christian heads straight toward me.

If my life were a movie, this moment would be in slow motion and dubbed with a Marvin Gaye song. Let's Get It On is surely the only appropriate track to play from the soundtrack of your life when watching the Adonis otherwise know as Christian Grey walk-no, saunter-across a room in your direction with the Seattle skyline as a backdrop. I'm screwed…

Christian can really pull of casual. He's wearing dark jeans and a heather gray v-neck t shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The clothing clings to his body just tight enough to hint at what I'm sure is a mouth-watering physique. I can literally see his muscles working his body to my location. On his feet there are no shoes, just black socks, and for some reason his casual attire sends my body into a frenzy. Just like when I heard his voice on the phone, my heartbeat picks up.

When my eyes finish their raking over of Christian's body, I finally take note of his face. And, crap, it's breathtaking. His hair is mussed up and effortlessly styled into just-fucked perfection, and on his face he's wearing a sexy little smirk among the day-old stubble he must have neglected to shave this morning. I want to lick it. What is coming over me?

When I finally come to my senses, Christian is standing directly in front of me and I realize I'm smiling. He reaches for both of my hands, and I look up into his face. His beauty is blinding.

"Ana," he says, still smiling as he stoops slightly to plant a soft kiss on my cheek. Wooo... He releases my hands, and I release the breath I've been holding since he made his way across the room.

"Hi Christian," I say. Gosh, that sounded so stupid. "How are you today? I think I forgot to ask you on the phone earlier. Which was rude. I mean…who forgets to ask that." Shit I'm rambling. I avert my eyes because it's his amused scrutiny that is making mush of my brain.

"Breathe, Ana," he chuckles. "I'm quite well today. I forgot to ask you too, so don't worry about it." He pauses, and grazes my chin with the fingers of his right hand, gently prompting me to regain eye contact. Christian's touch does absolutely nothing to help me to breathe normally, and instead I take in a deep shaky breath that does not fully sate my lungs' need for oxygen. "How are you today?"

"I'm good," I smile. Christian, much like last night, is standing far too close for my mental well-being. He smells so good, and it's impairing my ability to react like a normal human being. I can't rid myself of the goofy grin that has taken over my face.

"Shouldn't you say 'I'm well'? I thought you were an English major," he teases. A playful Christian…hmmm.

"Well, Mr. Grey," he takes a half-step back, and I'm able to regain some sort of composure, "You should know that good and well are tricky words with tricky rules. Being that one is an adjective and the other an adverb, one might expect their usage to be clear cut, but it's not. I could go into the difference between linking verbs and action verbs, but I'm not here to bore you. I'm here for lunch. So, to make a long drawn out lesson short, it's perfectly acceptable to say, 'I'm good,' when asked, 'How are you?'. If, however, you had asked me, 'How are you doing?', I would have responded differently. We can go over all of that at a later date if you so wish."

As soon as I finish speaking, I realize that I couldn't have sounded nerdier if I'd tried to. As an English major, I'd always found grammar, usage, and mechanics to be interesting facets of the language. English is full of cunning little rules that have the ability to trip up even the most astute speaker or writer. I was able to make a little money apart from working at Clayton's by helping people revise and edit their term papers. It was easy money, and the experience helped me figure out what I really wanted to do with my life after college. I'm pretty sure my English nerdery couldn't have found a more awkward moment to rear its crazy head.

Christian regards me with amusement. His fingers are gently gliding across his perfectly sculpted bottom lip, obstructing my view of his amused smirk in the process. He clears his throat and swallows before responding. My eyes follow the vertical movement of his Adam's apple. So freaking hot. "You're right, you can teach me all about the finer points of English grammar another time. Come."

Christian takes a step toward me and grabs my hand. That now familiar zing jolts through my whole body at the joining of our skin, beginning in my hand and ending in my toes. A giggle escapes my lips as Christian pulls me along behind him on his mission toward the kitchen and our lunch. He sneaks a quick glance toward our hands, leading me to believe that he really does feel the electricity too.

When we reach the kitchen, he turns toward me, releasing my hand and leaning against the counter, arms folded across his broad chest. "I wasn't sure what you would want, so I figured we'd decide together once you arrived. I hope that's okay."

"That's fine. I'm really not all that picky. What do you have to offer?" I stick my hands in the back pockets of my jeans and rock on my toes.

He grins wickedly, pushes himself away from the counter, and closes the distance between us. "I have a lot to offer you, Ana." His hand comes up to my face and pushes a stray piece of hair out of my eyes. Christian's proximity halts my breathing, again, and his hand that secured my hair behind my ear only moments ago lingers at my throat. His free hand skims down the left side of my body and rests at my hip, lightly pushing me backward until my back is flush against the breakfast bar, effectively securing my arms between the counter and my back.

"Look at me," he says softly. I comply and make quick work of dragging my eyes over his chest, up his throat, pausing slightly on his lips, and finally meeting Christian's stormy gray eyes. I'm sure I'm wearing the same 'kiss me' expression I had on last night. The only difference being that today I'm going for it. "I just need to do something before we eat lunch."

Christian draws himself impossibly closer to my body, sealing the already almost nonexistent space between us. His hips pin me tighter to the breakfast bar, and the hand at my waist lightly skims the side of my body. His hand at my neck moves into my hair, gathering it, pulling down, and forcing my face-not just my eyes-up. Christian searches my eyes momentarily, probably looking for any sign of apprehension and finding none, then he brings his lips down to mine. The energy between us goes wild; it's like an electric storm.

His lips are soft, yet firm against mine and his tongue grazes the seam of my lips. A moan escapes my mouth, giving his tongue an opening. He takes full advantage of the moment and I allow his tongue to fully, expertly explore my mouth. After a couple seconds, I allow myself the opportunity to explore his mouth and taste his unique Christian flavor with tentative strokes. I have never been kissed like this before. I'm completely at his mercy, and I love it.

With our mouths still involved in a delicious tête-à-tête, Christian grinds his hips into mine. My attention is immediately drawn to his erection pressed hard against my belly, and the knowledge of what I'm doing to him sends a shock wave to my groin. It would appear that Kate was right. Christian Grey, Greek god, wants me, and I want him, here…now, in his kitchen. Another moan escapes my lips.

I could kiss him forever, but I also need to breathe. I suck in a deep breath and open my eyes, to find Christian gazing down at me. He smiles and rests his forehead against mine, closing his eyes.

"You are so sweet," he murmurs, brushing his lips softly and chastely against mine. He pushes himself back slowly, freeing me from the breakfast bar. Immediately, I feel bereft and want more. More of Christian. More of that kiss. Just more of whatever this is.

He makes his way over to the refrigerator and breaks me out of my post-kiss stupor by speaking again. "Incidentally, I do have quite a few options to offer you for lunch. My housekeeper, Mrs. Jones, keeps me rather well-stocked." How does he look so cool right now? He motions me over to the appliance with a slight gesture of his hand, and I make my way to him after taking in a deep breath and unleashing a little sigh.

As Christian opens the door, his free hand finds its way to the small of my back. I find the renewed contact after our kiss and subsequent brief parting to be a relief; it's almost like I need some part of him touching some part of me.

I take quick stock of what he has in the refrigerator, recognizing cold cuts and a plastic wrapped cheese and fruit platter. In the back is a small dish of something under what appears to be a double layer of both plastic wrap and tin foil. "What's that?" I ask, pointing to the covered dish.

"That is Mrs. Jones's famous Macaroni and Cheese," he explains. I feel his fingers flex on my back. "There is french bread somewhere around here for sandwiches if that's what you want, and I know she made kaiser rolls too."

"Hmm. What do you feel like?" I ask him.

Christian shakes his head at me, and draws me closer so that I'm standing in front of him and looking into his eyes. "You choose. I'll eat whatever you want."

At that moment, we hear the ding of the elevator and Christian turns his head toward the sound, a puzzled expression on his face. Before we can break apart, I hear a shrill voice sounding through the penthouse and the click-clack of stilettos on the hard floor.

"Christian?" Whoever this voice belongs to must be incredibly irritating. Her voice makes my ears want to bleed.

Christian's whole body tenses at the sound, and he moves so that I'm standing behind him. It's a rather protective pose, and I'm immediately on guard for whoever-or whatever-comes through the foyer doors.

"Christian!" I hear again, closer and more shrill this time. Ouch!

"We're in the kitchen, Elena," Christian replies with a harsh tone to his smooth rasp.

The clicking of the heels stops in front of the breakfast bar, revealing a middle-aged woman with a harsh, bleach blonde bob. Her face is pretty-ish, but it's clear that she's had some cosmetic work done to her face and body. Her clothing is all black, which would be flattering on most people, but on her it's scary. She looks like an undertaker with fake boobs and a bad dye job.

"Taylor didn't even greet me. Your staff appears to be slipping, Christian," she gripes. Christian glares at her, and I move to the side to get a better look at the wanna-be twenty-something Barbie in front of me. Something about her gives me the heebie jeebies, and when she lays eyes on me, her expression goes from controlled arrogance to complete confusion. "And who's this?" she asks with a snide tone. Rude much?

"Elena," Christian warns, and her demeanor instantly softens.

"I'm sorry," she says to Christian, not to me. "I'm just surprised to see someone with you, especially since last night you-."

"This is Mia's friend, Ana," he interrupts brusquely, his hands fisting at his sides. "I helped her with her car this morning and we're about to have lunch." He stops talking and sighs. "Is there something you need to discuss with me?"

"Yes, there is."

"Then I'll meet you in my office," he replies coolly.

Elena-or at least I'm assuming that's her name-turns on her heel and heads toward the archway Christian came through with Taylor earlier during my visit. I can't help but stare after her, and when I turn my attention forward I find Christian staring at me.

"I'm sorry, Ana," he sighs. "I need to go take care of this. That's my mother's friend Elena and we do business together." He seems distracted in his explanation, and I know there is more to the story; but, we aren't in a relationship and Christian doesn't owe me anything.

"Okay," I say nodding my head, dejected and upset at this turn of events. "I can get going then." At my words, Christian's face falls and a muscle in his jaw ticks. I don't want to leave, but I will if he needs to take care of something more important.

"No. Stay. This will only take a few minutes," he steps a little closer, and runs the back of his fingers down my cheek. I lean my face into his touch. His mouth is set in a worried-looking line. He wants me to stay.

"Okay," I smile. "I'll wait for you." His expression picks up, and a small smile lights up his face.

"Good," he breathes. "Take the few minutes I'm gone to decide on something. When I get back we'll make lunch and eat. Okay?"

"Okay," I nod.

"I really don't want to deal with her right now, not while you're here, but I'll make it quick."

"Well, then hurry!" I exclaim, and he takes off across the vast space, shooting me a smile over his shoulder before he disappears from my line of sight.