AN: Thank-you for all of your reviews for chapter 2. I appreciate every single review, favorite and follow (keep them coming). From now on I will be updating every 12 hours (give or take an hour or two) so the story will be finished in time for Christmas.

BETA: Halo140 and pusher Stargazer93

CHAPTER THREE

IN MY HANDS WERE the prettiest shoes I had ever seen. Sparkling blue, pinks, purples. The memory was vivid as though it happened yesterday. We weren't rich, or poor, but lived within our means in retrospect.

"Are these for me?" my stumpy fingers ran over the glitter. They were like stars, the most beautiful shoes.

"Of course," Daddy's face crinkles up, with lines around his mouth. "I'll give you anything baby girl, you asked for shoes and these are the mightiest pair in the neighborhood."

At the time I didn't realized they were a discarded pair I didn't like. Momma told me years later my Dad spent hours gluing almost two pounds of glitter on them. They were shoes for his shining girl, a galaxy of stars for me to wear.

Through my entangled limbs, I saw those shoes again, but it was the real cosmos above. I rolled trying my best using a fleshy barrier where sharp canine teeth could pierce. What hope did I have in this losing battle.

Thump, thump, thump.

A pandemonium of nerves flowed through my chest, the warmth pooled in my ears as my hearing became distorted. I couldn't catch my breath as I moved, only shallow jerky motions. I wanted to breathe, but this big ass wolf was coming for me.

Thump, thump, thump.

Tears trickled down my cheeks and the soil stuck to my face. Copious bodily fluids clumped at my nostrils. The impending attack was near.

Thump, thump, thump.

Is this what fear felt like? Courage running for the hills? All I knew death was nine inches from my face. Goodbye world.

Two distinct words 'GT, heel,' bellowed from a husky, yet recognizable American voice.

The animal's warm breath panted in quick successions against my damp face. I turned as a dark silhouette grew closer. My eyes were blurred, impossible to focus no matter how many times I blinked. The night was warm, a change was near as a cool breeze brushed my face twirling through my mane. It was as if this man brought along the change. My eyes were weary from travel but clearly I followed each of his long powerful strides. I gazed up at them, embracing the sky above. The glitter, the moon and million twinkling stars of the cosmos. As my tears subsided, the beast, now appeared nothing other than a dog. The non-killing kind, but still full of patience it waited on its haunches for the man.

His master.

Was this the Christian Grey?

The man bent over amused by the way my body curled into the fetal position. Of course, his redundant beast of a companion shared his glare.

"What?" I groaned, rubbing the utter mess on my face.

He was almost shrouded by the shadows of night, but I could identify enough of a smirk which didn't help the situation.

Asshole.

It was his eyes which caught my attention, a cloud lit of grey you would see before a thunderstorm. I shivered as the wind picked up, even though my body was in constant limbo in this ridiculous heat. I was caught by his storm. He panted worse than the dog, and I waited for a howl or a bark. Fuck me, he was more intimidating than the wolf, dingo… shit, dog. Well that snarky little beast beside him.

"Why are you on my land? Who are you?" His questions came fast through his deep stern voice, still those eyes screamed, stay the fuck away.

Leaning down, he hooked my arms pulling me to my feet. A little unstable at first, I wiped my skirt and what was left of pride, and suddenly my bearings were finally found on the Australian soil.

I raised my head to see the man's full height, noticing his raw dirty demeanor. Without a doubt I was waiting for his fangs to drop, but in reality, this man was the worlds most famous romance author. His clothes had seen better days. Jeans ripped and a tight fitted tank barely covering his torso. I wasn't complaining by the amount of flesh which was on show, it was surreal.

"You're so pretty," My unrecognizable voice whispered.

It's comment for my brain's functionality to fail when I'm lacking sleep, in this case muttering an embarrassing confession, due to my lack of filter. Of course if I had a delete button, I would be pounding that key. Who am I kidding, he was delicious. I wanted to lick those rippling arms with veins running to his hands oh did I meant his abs of steel under that tank.

Shit! "I mean your dog." I said while pointing to the beast.

Excellent recovery Ana.

"He's gorgeous by the way." I cooed.

"She bites!" he hissed and I pulled my hands high over my chest not wanting to lose a finger.

NOTE: His dog is female, possible biter.

There were no formalities of name exchanges and even the crickets began to sing. I slipped my two ruined shoes on my dirty feet. Without warning large hands hurled me over a shoulder. My head dangled upside down, I was pissed but my strength evaporated from my adrenaline filled near death experience.

So I'll give my time to recharge, as I stare at the sight of his tight ass cupped within his jeans. I can argue with the man later while I'm in a vertical position.

I imagine I must look like death warmed up, with ruined heels, sweat pooling in places I never thought possible, and my hair. Urggh! Keratin treatments didn't stand a chance, on this continent as my curls matted… everywhere. I doubt the birds nest would trend this season.

"Oh God, My suitcase!" I shrieked as my hair lumped back and forth. It was by chance I turned to see he had my luggage in his other hand and the obedient beast trailed behind.

By the time we reached his homestead it felt like days. Mr Grey pulled the screen door with his pinky, and it snapped back as we entered. He lowered me, my vision grew spotty, as I staggered finding it impossible to stand upright. This man's presence dominated the small space, and his two broad hands surrounded my entire waist as he placed me in a rickety old chair.

With his legs parted and hands bracing his hips, "I hate repeating myself but, why are you here?" he said.

I did my best to answer, but exhaustion hit me and my lips remained sealed. The rickety chair gave comfort as I slumped down, kicking my heels to the other side of the room.

The curtains flapped as a refreshing breeze blew throughout the hut. My eyes darted around with the little time I expected to be here, I needed to absorb my surroundings. This is known as researching, not snooping. I can't forget I have an interview to prepare.

Its exterior was deceiving, built of brick and tin. The surprise were walls lined with shelves bursting with books. Hardback, softcover, and worn novels on their last reads. Small trinkets doused his home of Mariner swag, photos, pictures and a single crystal snowflake. His home was busy, too many rugs, carpets, and endless furniture for this small house to hold.

"Jesus," His fingers raked through the auburn curls, "Answer me… why are you here?" I flinched not from his harsh tone rather each step he was moving towards me.

"I…" First of all, I needed a moment to think this through. I didn't want to be kicked out. "My name is Anastasia Steele." I blurted out unsure what was appropriate to say.

I need to interview you so I can further my stagnant reporting career, but don't mind me barging in uninvited.

"I don't care about your name. Why are you here?" the deep voice strained through his teeth.

Those gray eyes were vicious, and his glare further informed me I was filth. For some reason I've offended him, because now couldn't even bear to look at me, stomping to the stove placing a pot with water and resting two mugs on the counter.

I shouldn't have come? Why did I think I could pull this off?

Ana keep your shit together, do not cry. Don't show this ass defeat.

Mr Grey studied me like I was a foreign concept. Looking down at myself, I brutally was, with my ruined work attire, and dusty bare feet. Did I look pathetic?

"Do you have something clean and more appropriate to wear?" Ok, I got my answer, "Like thongs?"

I scoffed at his statement, "excuse me, did I hear you correctly?" I pointed at the ass, "You want me to wear lingerie. I'm sorry, we've only become acquainted." he rolled his eyes.

He furrowed in his pile of shoes, on a mission to find a certain particular pair, "Finally! Wear these," he said as he threw a pair of flip-flops at my face. "Your expensive heels are redundant in this landscape missy." Mr Grey said nothing further only smirking as his finger swung one of my expensive heels around his finger.

"Hey that's mine, could you pl—"

I was winded as he hurled it at my stomach, huffing at the force. My eyes watered as I saw the permanent damage. My Louboutin was ruined.

"My poor baby," I whispered, stroking the tainted shoe. Don't worry I can buy more back home.

"Anastasia Steele we're in a desert, and you wore heels?" he chuckled.

Squatting flies, the sweat continued to drip, I wasn't sure how long I was going to survive here. I grew up in the country, but Montesano was no comparison to the Outback.

I was hot and dropped my long now dusty red blouse to the floor, where my lace camisole remained. He went straight to my property, flipping open the suitcase, sifting its contents, while groaning at the state of my attire. At the time of packing I didn't expect to be in the desert, so the majority of the clothing was for a Seattle winter.

"What were you thinking?" he grumbled as the case slammed.

Once again he stormed off, heavy footed like a herd of elephants into the next room. While returning he placed a pair of boxers, and a huge t-shirt on my rickety wooden chair.

"Use them," he barked, stomping towards the other side of the room.

"I'm filthy, can I bathe?" I tried to wipe the dirt off my body.

"I only have tank water, and it's precious stuff out here. So no."

"Oh."

I made do with makeup wipes to refresh my soiled skin. Needing to change, I reached for the zip of my skirt resting on my hip. No matter how hard I tugged, it didn't budge. I didn't know what to do other than groan in frustration. Mr Grey stomped over huffing and puffing like a big bad wolf only to get down on his knees. He looked up at me, slowly running his fingers over the jammed zipper. Everything slowed down, my breathing, my fluttering eyes, and my heart. I noticed his freckles over his tanned face and suddenly the zip was released.

Our fingers briefly touched as though we were sparked with a live current, instantly pulling back. Terrified my skirt would fall to the floor I bunched my hand tight, holding onto it for dear life. There was no way in hell I was revealing my underwear to this man, no matter how good looking. I'm a girl of strong morals.

Don't even think about fucking the headline.

Giving me some privacy Mr Grey left the room and I slipped on his t-shirt and rolled the boxers up around my waist so they wouldn't fall. I cleared my throat, allowing him to return.

I sat on the chair watching his every move as I wanted to remember everything about him for the article. Right away I noticed he was large, he moved with a grace and ease that defied his size. His hair was sun-kissed, blond tips to his auburn roots. It was long, in need of a trim as the curls tickled his ears. A dusty ginger scruff covered his face, and a narrow nose with a slight curve, possibly it had been broken in the past. While he didn't appear to be hunk-calendar material, I still found the raw bushman appealing.

Very appealing.

Morals Ana. Do not fuck the headline.

It was when a pair of thin rimmed glasses rested on his face, it didn't balance. I'm not talking about his crooked nose, rather the designer frames.

The extent of our dialogue was minimal, it was obvious he had guessed I'm a reporter. A single glare informed he will remain tight-lipped, giving little to no information I could publish.

As the water bubbled away, he threw a tea bag and a single cube of sugar into each mug. He poured the boiled water, overfilling one. "Shit," he cursed, turning back to me with hazy eyes.

Easy Grey.

With a quick flick of the wrist, the tea bags were dumped into the sink and a mug was set in front of me.

"It's like 100 degrees and you're giving me tea?" I watched as steam billowed from the mug.

"Drink." his mouth blew, cooling his drink.

"No milk, why thank you."

"I don't know if that was sarcasm or not. Appreciate it, I saved your ass so the native fauna won't get you." he winked.

Little did he know, I wasn't being sarcastic, only honest. A quick dunk of tea, one sugar and never any milk, is my go too. My eyes glared into the mug with slight chips around the rim of the mouth, as I sipped it scalded but the pain is always needed for the perfect brew. Simplicity at its best in liquid form, well if you remove all alcohol from my life.

I continued to research, studying his home. Everything inside looks recycled, reused and most definitely not new from Macy's. The space was compact and beautifully utilized. The kitchen area was complete with sink, mismatched counters, and contrasting cupboards. The stove was the age of my grandmother and his table and two chairs weren't far behind in age. It had a rustic feel, which flowed into the cozy sitting area. GT laid on a mat of bright colors by the screen door to catch the evening breeze. Two small sofas nestled either side of the window. There were lights I assumed from a natural power source as there wasn't a hum of a generator. But my eyes couldn't resist as they came back to his books which littered the place.

"My name's Ana," I offered my hand, hoping by being friendly he'd be willing to chat. "Ana Steele."

He ignored me and sat down on the couch well away from me at the kitchen table.

"I apologize for arriving unannounced."

"I know you didn't walk, so who dropped you off?" His question was clipped and jaw tight.

So I guess Tales… God damn it! He hadn't called him after all.

"Mr Taylor." I nodded.

He broke into a belly of laughter, "I'm sure he loved the formality. Did you pay him?" he looked at me from head to toe.

Scoffing at his tone, "Well not in sexual favors if that's what you're thinking Mr Grey." he snickered. His lack of maturity irritated me, "Absolutely, nothing. We discussed terms, but—"

"What did he charge? A slab of XXXX?" he scoffed.

What the hell is a slab, let alone XXXX? What are we referring to porn, fuck?

"I don't even know what that means? Is that currency used here, it sounds… pornographic." I hushed.

"Beer. It's a case of beer." I laughed at my expense.

"Oh. In fact no. He didn't ask for alcohol." Pursing my lips.

For the first time, I noticed a small nook on the other side of the room. He had another table set there, with a lone chair, on its last legs. Resting on the table was a laptop, and what looked like a radio.

If I only had his email address, I wouldn't be in this mess right now. I'm sure if I only had his email address, I wouldn't be getting broken grammar in a foreign dialect because he's so cryptic.

"Your hu— home is amazing, you know all the conveniences." I tried to ease the storm brewing inside.

"Yeah, I even have an outback dunny too."

"What?" There he goes again, slipping out of recognizable English, "I mean you have a computer, but then I shouldn't be surprised. I know you only work via online." I tapped my nose.

Nothing. I didn't even get a head nod or an ass of a smirk on his face. This one-sided conversation was going downhill fast.

"I read your books," I attempted conversation again, "They are amazing. The stories are detailed and rich with such language most authors can't even obtain. It's a rare gift. Even my mother is obsessed, and that's a rare feet. She's always so indecisive and ends up watching Netflix." I paused, leaving it open for a retort.

Nothing, as he continued to sip his hot tea.

"Beaten with Love is on the bestseller charts and has been for months, but you probably knew that."

I stopped realizing I was chatting too much. It was a one-sided conversation. Did I lose consciousness, and this man was a figure of my imagination? A desert mirage with no palm tree in sight.

"I'm grateful you found me," I said, giving myself a pinch in good measure.

It hurt and again he gave nothing.

"Mr Taylor wanted to say that the rains were coming, and needed to get down to Tent Crick, and back again."

"Tennant Creek," he corrected.

"Right." I clamped my lips shut. It was difficult maintaining this cheerful facade with little to no feedback. "I bet you're dying to know how I found you." This should get him talking.

Unfortunately, no it wasn't. By the looks of it, Mr Grey had no interest in speaking with me, no matter how I directed the conversation.

"Ok, I get it, selective mutism, that's fine. I understand." I sighed, as I watched him arch a brow, "I mean, I've intruded on your life and I realized it was unbelievably rude of me."

The tension was strong, it felt like the air could be carved with a large blade. I was losing my patience, and fast. I didn't gallivant across the globe, to prevent my dream.

"The challenge was right from the start trying to find you," I said. GT, directed her gaze at me, "Oh who's a good girl, you're such a friendly doggie, aren't you?"

Like her master, GT gave no sign that was heard. The canine's eyes were steady on me, watching my every move, no wagging of tails here. With Mr Grey freezing me out, I looked at his companion for some connection. At this point, I was willing to accept whatever GT was willing to give me.

"My life flashed before my eyes, racing up on me like that," I told GT. Bending forward I stretched out my hand, making sure she understood that all I wanted was to pet her.

"She… bites," Mr Grey clipped almost welcoming my destruction, starting with my hand.

GT's gaze flickered to her master and then back to me.

"Are you a big bad wolf?" I asked her.

The dog's eyes met mine, and GT moved resting her chin on her paws. To my utter amazement, she wagged her tail. Only once, a single shift to state that she no longer considered me a threat. It was enough to make me want to fist pump the hot air around me.

"Just so you know GT, I'm friendly. Friends?" Against his instruction, I pulled out my hand for GT to see.

And of course the warnings came again, "I wouldn't do that if I were you. And my medical supplies are low." Damn it, I chickened out withdrawing for the second time.

GT lifted her head and looked up at me, and her tail began to move, this time to a full wag as if to tell me she was willing to trust.

"Jesus, you're like the other bitches in my life. You wound me GT, tenfold." Mr Grey muttered to his dog.

"You know Mr Taylor isn't a traitor," I insisted, "and neither's the dog." he snorted, as he continued sipping his tea.

"Mr Grey, I'm a reporter." I needed to start over, "I write for a small paper in Seattle. Actually, my position covers the society pages. It's painful and far from my favorite subject matter, but I was grateful to get the job after some poor choices I made in my teens. Don't let this fool you. I'm an exceptional reporter, and I wanted an opportunity to prove that I was capable of writing something other than who was seen where and with whom. I'm sick to death of writing about meaningless bullshit events or who's fucking who." Well, that got his attention as his body straightened. "I was ready to quit and handed in my notice, but my editor had other plans. She said I could have any assignment I wanted if I managed an interview with you. I'm holding her word to it. Now at the time, I had no idea how fucking difficult it would be to find you."

Or engage in conversation.

I didn't have a filter and unable stop. I can only hope once he hears my story and is willing to cooperate. Eventually, he'd need to succumb to his selective muteness, and it might as well be me. Since I'm the only one who has found a way to reach him, now that should prove something. Mr Grey must know his novels are a phenomenal, with readers itching to find out every detail about him.

"You do realize how I found you? There will be others…" He glared demolishing my honest words. "Your books are amazing, your readers want to meet the writer behind these haunting dark titles. Surely you realized when you published what pandemonium it would cause?"

He remained unmoved. So it was time to play another tactic. The sorry card.

"I gave up spending time with my family to find you, but it will be worth every minute of my vacation days, and more if you are willing to give me an interview." I pleaded.

I was willing to get on my knees and beg. At this point his eyes raked over my body, lingering at my t-shirt clad breasts and I crossed my arms over them for protection.

"Is sympathy what you want?" he questioned.

"Well, no… of course not." I sighed, "ok," pinching my thumb and finger together, "Maybe a bit." he briefly closed his eyes beginning to shake his head.

"I'll tell you what," I said, using the same cheerful tone I'd resorted to earlier. "I'll let you preview everything I collate, plan, write… whatever, to ensure I get your stamp of approval. You say the word no, and it won't get printed."

"You're a society writer, you expect your faux speech to convince me?"

"Of course." I nodded, "I wouldn't want to lose your trust, I'm honest and a woman of her word."

He scoffed, "You'll be the first." He stated as they dripped with disdain.

Walking to his nook, where his computer and radio were set up, he sat on the ancient chair. Switches were flicked and pressed, as he placed an oversized set of headphones over his ears. It was obvious he was trying to radio his friend Mr Taylor.

The one-sided conversation was solely on the topic of me.

"If this is a joke, I'm not laughing." Mr Grey said, never lowering his voice. From his reaction, Mr Taylor was apparently amused.

"You're way off," Christian shouted into the microphone. "Having a woman here, a reporter isn't doing me a favour Tales. I don't care who she is or who she knows."

There was a long pause as Mr Taylor replied, but I couldn't decipher the conversation.

"I don't want her here. Final." Silence followed and Christian rubbed his hand over his stubble, which could only assume was frustration.

"You have twenty-four hours, Tales." He slapped his hand on the top of the table. "No! I don't care about the rains. You did this asshole. Collect her immediately, I don't need the complication."

Well, if my presence wasn't welcomed earlier, it's gone to the depths of hell. Being isolated here any longer than needed seemed a suicide mission. The sooner Mr Taylor retrieved me the better. I needed to be in Seattle, not here in Australia. I can only imagine what is happening with the society calendar, a mountain high with parties to cover. If worse came to play I would be stuck in the outback. Lincoln would forgive me as long as I had the full article on her desk. Even in the short amount of time, I could relay many interesting details about the man.

For starters his stinking attitude.

"Twenty-four hours. Over." Christian ended the conversation with what sounded like a threat.

What would happen if Mr Taylor didn't return in time? Surely Christian wouldn't kick me out, to deal with the harsh climate of Australia. Would he?

Remaining frozen as he finished, hardly knowing what to say or do. I chose nothing. Selective mutism at its best, or a hint of reverse psychology to work in my favor.

Christian reached for his mug and drank down the last of his tea in a single gulp, dumping it into the sink. I began to follow him. The slapping of my flip-flops on the uneven floors was disturbing the once silent home. Unfortunately, I was closer to him than either of us realized, because when he turned, I was almost knocked down.

With his hands braced against my upper arms, he glared down at me, a deep frown etched on his forehead. "Stay out of my way." each word was distinctly spoken, leaving no doubt about the strength of his feelings. Fuck off.

"I'm sorry… that was an accident." I whispered.

How can I get this man to cooperate? He swung the screen door shut, causing the small building to shake. Staring at the closed door, I was too stunned to move. My hopes were high for this interview, but if this tea break was any sign to go by, then my career was going down in flames.

GT remained by the door, seemingly content. I got down with my legs crossed, and she dubbed her snout on my knee.

"He doesn't like me," I told the dog. GT lifted her head to gaze at me.

"You know I can't blame him. I barged into his life, and this is the price, ruined heels, mosquito bites, and the oversized clothes belonging to a selective mute." To my delight, GT lifted her chin and then rested it on top of my foot. Although Mr Grey had warned of biting, I gently placed my hand on her head, giving her a moment to adjust, my hand went down the length of her spine.

"You're nothing like the big, bad wolf Christian Grey makes you out to be," I whispered. "You're a snugly teddy bear, "and I was simply won over if GT's lick of approval was any sign to go by.

At least someone was on my side. It didn't matter they were not homo-sapien.

"I should interview you instead," I suggested as her ears perked up. "Oh you like the sound of that," she wagged her tail full of excitement. "GT, tell me, what is it like—" The door opened again, and Mr Grey came in holding something long, throwing it in the sink.

"Can I do anything to help?"

What the hell was that?

"Can you skin a snake?"

"What?" I shrieked.

"It was rustling about, I got it. It's good fresh meat for GT." and he picked it up, dangling it in my face. Something I would not like to inspect.

"I..I..I—" stuttering, unable to make a sentence.

"I thought as much. So leave." he hissed.

"I can't."

"And don't I know it. Fucking Tales. I can see it now, it's going to be one of his yarns to his fellas back at the mob."

Again being lost by his English, I asked, "I'd hoped…"

"What exactly…" I stood still with my mouth wide, unable to speak, "I'd assumed as much. And now I'm stuck with you."

"Which I've apologized," but he only rolled his eyes, "Is there somewhere you would like me to put my suitcase and sleep?" I asked.

"You mean like in the guest suite?" he hinted with strong sarcasm.

"Of course."

He snickered, "There is only one-bedroom Anastasia, meaning only one bed, and there is no way in hell I'm sleeping on that," he pointed to the well worn small sofa.