Chapter 3

Anastasia PoV

What the hell was I thinking? A date? I don't go on dates! I'd never been on a date in my life. Why, oh why did I agree to go on one now? And with Christian Grey of all people. If it wasn't for his megawatt smile after I agreed, I would have retracted my assent immediately. But he was just so damn gorgeous, I couldn't help it. Only God knew what this date would be like. I hoped to come out of it alive and without the need for further therapy. Yikes.

Not long after dinner, I feigned being tired, and had Reynolds drive me home. He'd return afterwards to collect Kate and Ethan. Unless of course they were spending the night with Elliot and Mia. I wouldn't have been surprised if I didn't see them at breakfast the next morning. Christian waited with me while Reynolds collected the car.

"I look forward to next Friday, Anastasia," he said. Normally I preferred to be called "Ana," but the way my name rolled off his tongue like a caress, made me swoon. Every time. I hadn't bothered to correct him once, and I wasn't about to start.

"Me too," I replied, shyly. "What shall we do? Just the dinner?" I asked.

"Oh no, Miss Steele. That's a surprise," he replied. Oh no.

"Um, not to ruin it, but I really hate surprises. Honestly and truly. I like to go in with full knowledge of what's going to happen and what to expect. I don't like not being in the know, it makes me nervous. And not in a good way," I told him.

"Fair point well made, Miss Steele. How about I text you the itinerary on the day of? Will that give you sufficient time to prepare yourself?" he asked.

"Yes, but you don't have my number," I replied. "I should probably give it to you." I fished my phone out of my clutch to take down his number. He recited the digits and I sent him a quick text message so he'd have mine as well. I heard his phone chirp from his pocket, indicating the message was sent.

"Thank you, Anastasia. For a wonderful evening." He grasped my hand and pulled it to his lips, placing a chaste kiss just past my knuckles. As my arm rose, my bangles slid down, towards my elbow, exposing my wrist. He caught a glimpse of it. "What's this?" he asked, trailing his thumb across my scar.

I snatched my hand back, suddenly thrown into that memory, feeling the pain of my wrist being cut into. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"It's okay, Christian," I whispered back. How could I date someone when I couldn't stand to be touched? This was never going to work. "Um, I look forward to hearing from you," I said as I got into the car. Christian held onto the car door for a long moment before reaching in to caress my cheek. That was okay. That I could handle.

"Until we meet again, Miss Steele," he said sadly, and closed the door.

Once at home, I reeled over what I had just done. I'd just agreed to go on a date with the most eligible and richest bachelor in all of the Pacific Northwest. To the outside eye, it was a match made in heaven. Two of Seattle's most successful singles getting paired together. Steele Designs' stock would skyrocket. Our clientele would be flowing in from every entrance, and we'd be set for eternity.

But the outside eye didn't know me. Didn't know him. Hell, I didn't know him. I thought he seemed just as reluctant to be touched as I was, but perhaps not. I couldn't let him touch me, much less hold me, hug me, and god forbid make love to me. All of it was impossible.

This dinner on Friday would be the first and last date with him. Unless he could consent to having a completely celibate relationship with a scarred freak-show. Yeah right. Christian Grey practically had women swimming out of his pockets and shirtsleeves. Any one of the women at the benefit would have given their life savings and their first born child for one night with that man. I had no doubt that his bed was rarely empty.

As soon as he learned what I truly was, he'd want nothing to do with me. Of that I was completely certain.

Once home, I strolled into my en-suite and took a look at myself in the mirror again. I looked okay. With the curls in my hair, the make up on my face, and the dress draped over my slight form, I looked presentable. But take all that away. Remove the rouge, satin and silk, and I was a plain Jane. Nothing special. Nothing extraordinary. And underneath that, the physical and emotional scars.

I was a walking, talking disaster. Even if I could get past my aversion to being touched, as soon as he placed one hand on my bare skin, he'd shrink back in disgust. No one would want that. I'm sure that's why he did it to me, and why she did nothing to stop it. They left my face alone, which I was grateful for, but the rest of me… I resembled Frankenstein far closer than an attractive human being.

An hour later I heard the front door open and a very drunk Kate stumble in with Ethan in tow. I guess they decided not to spend the night with Elliot and Mia. Probably a good thing if they were staying at their parents' house. "Ana! Are you home?" Kate slurs.

I rolled my eyes. A drunk Kate was not always a fun Kate. "Yes, Kate. I am," I replied. I padded out to the foyer in my robe and slippers.

"Rumor has it you not only danced with Christian, but agreed to go on a date with him?!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, I did, though I'm thinking I should cancel," I replied, looking down at my feet.

"No! You can't! Elliot told me Christian's never dated before! He's never brought a girlfriend home; or a boyfriend for that matter. When his parents found out, they were overjoyed! You can't cancel!" Oh great. He was a lot more like me than I'd anticipated.

Well, that could be a good thing. If neither of us had ever dated, then neither of us would have a clue what we were doing. We could go super slow, take things one step at a time, and maybe over time, I could get over my fears, get past my insecurities, and truly be with someone.

Wait, what the hell was I thinking?! It had been twenty years and hardly a single change had happened. Why would one man change everything? Perhaps I needed to call Dr. Flynn.

Christian PoV

Something wasn't quite right about that woman. And I was determined to find out. She seemed to be a lot like me, which could be a good or a bad thing. She'd understand why I am the way I am. Perhaps I could be completely honest with her and tell her all about my past. But at the same time, maybe not. Maybe she wouldn't want anything to do with someone who came from the wrong side of the tracks. Even if I'd come a long way since then, she might not be able to look past the bad.

Hell, why would anyone look past the bad? It made me who I am today. All of me. My need to control the world around me, my aversion to getting close emotionally to anyone, not letting anyone touch me, and my deep seeded need to punish any woman that remotely resembles the crack-whore.

Anastasia Steele. So beautiful. Much prettier than the crack-whore. Where her hair was thin and stringy from all the drugs and poor hygiene, Anastasia's was thick, luscious and soft. The crack-whore's eyes were a dull, flat grey. Anastasia's were a brilliant blue, bluer than the sky, deeper than the sea. They could see right through me, into my dark soul, and yet she still agreed to go on a date with me.

No surprises. Okay. I had to tell her exactly what I had planned. In my inner-most desire, I wanted to have Mrs. Jones cook a gourmet meal, serve it in my dining room, then escort the lovely Miss Steele up to my playroom and show her a world she never knew existed. But something told me I couldn't go that route. Not right away, at least.

She'd likely be more comfortable in a public setting. And unfortunately, the chef I told her about was going on vacation, and I didn't know the interim chef well enough, so going to that restaurant was out. I'd call around to my favorite restaurants and find out which one had the best menu planned for the next weekend. I'd wine and dine Anastasia, slowly get her more comfortable with me, then once I knew she felt safe and secure, then and only then would I introduce her to the play room.

Monday morning came, and it dragged on and on. Deciding for a break in the monotony, I texted Anastasia, not something I normally did. Another first.

Good day, Miss Steele. I trust the rest of your weekend was exemplary. I look forward to our rendezvous this Friday.

Almost immediately there was a reply. So, she kept her phone near her at all times, it seemed. I liked that. If she was to be my submissive, I needed to have constant contact with her.

Good day to you too, Mr. Grey. Sunday was rather dull, but occasionally that's a good thing. How was your Sunday? And I must say, I'd be looking more forward to Friday if I had a clue what we were doing.

Mr. Grey. I could just imagine that name slipping out of her mouth. It made my cock twitch in desire. I quickly tamped down those feelings. It wouldn't do any good to be thinking about that all week.

My Sunday paled in comparison to my Saturday night, which was spent with one brunette goddess. I was thinking we'd go to dinner on Friday night. And then I'd take you to my favorite place to see the Seattle night sky. Does that sound okay?

I found myself actually wondering if it sounded like a good date. I had no idea how to go about this. Normally I would just pick an activity and my submissive would agree, no questions asked. Regardless of whether or not it was something she wanted to do. Now I actually cared about this woman's opinion. I wanted her to truly have a good time, not just be happy because we were doing something that made me happy. Another first.

My phone pinged with her reply.

A brunette goddess? Me? Hardly, Mr. Grey. More like a mousy brown haired scullery maid, but thank you. Dinner and a view sounds lovely.

My blood boiled. She didn't find herself attractive? She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Or she had no idea how to take a compliment. If nothing else, I had to get her to see herself the way others see her. I wasn't the only man who was after her attentions the other night. She knew there was another man bidding on her during the dance. And if she hadn't spent the entire evening at my side, he would have asked her for one anyway.

You are a goddess, of the highest order. I assure you. And I won't have you thinking so poorly of yourself. Don't believe me? Ask all the other men that were at the benefit. They were stumbling over each other for the chance to speak to you.

Let's see what she thought of that.

Agree to disagree, Sir. And I don't recall seeing any men stumbling anywhere near me. As I recall, I was the only one doing any stumbling. Though perhaps it was because you monopolized my attention all evening. Not that I'm complaining of course. My sister wants to know where you're taking me for dinner. And I'm curious as well.

She was showing her sister the text messages? That needed to stop right away.

Please do not disclose any further information to your sister. I prefer to keep my relationships private in all aspects. And I've yet to pick a restaurant, but will let you know as soon as I do.

A few seconds later, my phone buzzed again, with her reply.

Relationship? Is that what this is? I thought we were having a conversation. If relationships have been reduced to exchanging a few text messages for an hour, then I'm severely out of touch. And I didn't tell her anything other than the fact that you are taking me to dinner. That seemed innocent enough.

Oh she was feisty. I liked that. A lot. And witty. Before I could reply, my phone buzzed again reminding me of my upcoming appointment with Doctor Flynn. Should I tell him about Anastasia? He'd certainly consider it a breakthrough. Or perhaps the good doctor would advise me to steer clear of a woman who may or may not have similar afflictions to mine.

Anastasia PoV

What was he playing at? "He called me a brunette goddess," I told Kate, as I re-read through our conversation. She was barricading herself in my office in order to avoid her clingy PA that wouldn't stop asking if she wanted more tea. Each sip she took, he'd be on her like white on rice asking if she needed a refresher. Even I thought it was annoying and he wasn't my assistant.

She told him she had a meeting with me and that it would take all morning. He knew that I didn't like to be disturbed during meetings, so it gave her a few hours reprieve from the endless tea-torment. It was hard for her to concentrate on any designs when she was constantly being pestered by the boy. I don't know why she didn't fire his ass and get a better PA. Something about his smile, she'd always say. Though I knew she had no interest in anyone but Elliot Grey, she apparently liked this kid's smile.

"Well you are," she replied. I rolled my eyes at her. "Dammit, Ana! When will you ever see yourself the way the rest of the world sees you? You're a total babe. Christian wasn't the only guy vying for your attention the other night. You were so wrapped up in him that you didn't notice. But I saw at least six other guys that tried to approach you several times. They saw you, started to walk towards you, but Grey shooed each of them away with a deathly glare.

"Speaking of which, I'm not sure I trust him, sis. He seemed to exhibit some kind of hold over you that you didn't even notice. You were completely captivated by him, and I could hardly get a word out of you when he was near. Also, the way he watched you, like a hawk. And it wasn't like a mother hawk protecting her babies. Well, it kind of was, but it was also like a hawk eying its prey. Waiting for the right moment to strike."

"So you're saying that he wanted to both protect me and attack me? At the same time?" I replied, disbelief all over my face. "Please, Kate. I may be inexperienced in the romance world, but I can handle myself. I'll just treat him like I would any other man I deal with on a day to day basis. You know how well I handle José. This should be no different."

"José is a completely different story, Ana," Kate replied. "He's harmless. Like a little kid, and you know that. Christian is something else. He's stronger, darker… there's something else to him, and that worries me. You shouldn't have the first guy you date be so complex. He should be more simple. Like José, for example!"

"Kate, I'm not dating José. You know I don't see him that way. And I don't plan on dating Christian. I'll admit I was captivated by him the other night, but I could never actually date him. I can't date anyone." José was our photographer. When we finished a project that we were particularly proud of, he'd come in and photograph it for the website and catalog. We owed a lot of our continued business to his expertise with lighting and photography sets. He'd expressed interest in me on more than one occasion, but knew to keep his distance now.

"You can, and you will," Kate replied. "It's high time you get out of your shell. You were doing so well on Saturday! Apart from falling into Christian's arms, which by the way, was a great move, even if it was by accident, you danced with him! I thought for sure you'd fight me tooth and nail on that dance auction, but you hardly resisted at all. It was like you somehow knew that he was going to bid on you and win."

"In other news," I retorted, desperate to change the subject. "How was dancing with Elliot? And did you see Ethan with Mia?"

"Yeah! That was totally unexpected. I don't think she even knew he existed before. But he's apparently as crazy about her as I am about Elliot. He's great, Ana. Tall, handsome, strong, funny, and a good kisser. Oh damn, he's a good kisser." Oh, so she kissed him. That was news. I wondered if anything else happened, but I knew if I asked her that she'd go into all the raunchy details. And those I did not want.

Later that afternoon, my phone buzzed telling me of my upcoming appointment with the good shrink, Dr. Flynn. He mentioned that he had a new treatment plan for me. Of all the ones I'd tried, I was surprised there were any methods left. But perhaps this one would finally work.