Chapter 5 – Meet Mr. Grey

Ana's POV

I have been living with Kate for a couple of weeks and we are already best friends. She still doesn't know anything about my parents or brother, it hasn't really come up. I haven't really ever had to tell anyone about it before. It's new to me and I don't want to bring it up until she does. I don't want her to feel sorry for me or anything. I'm sure it will come up sooner or later so I don't see a need to bring it up out of the blue.

I have been taking care of my brother more recently. I am finally financially secure so, I have been sending him more money. He is working really hard on his new book and I want to help him. I feel as though I owe him and I don't mind taking care of him for a change. I like taking care of him, he is the only the only thing I have left. I am happy to have Kate now though. It's nice to have someone who I know is there for me.

School has also been going really good to. I have been able to get a lot of extra credits, with all the extra work I am doing for the school. I should be able to graduate early at this rate. The school has given me so many opportunities I know I made the right choose. With all the extra work I have been doing I was able to get a tablet to work on designs. I use to use a simple sketch pad or use the tablets from school but, I'm glad I have my own now. I was able to get Skype on it so it's a lot easier to chat with Alex and them.

I have really enjoyed living here and I am glad to have a friend here to. After living two year with no one but Alex and his friends it's very refreshing having Kate. She truly is something else and I haven't met anyone like her. She is 21 though so, she does have that party girl in her. I don't really mind but, that isn't really for me anymore… I don't even drink anymore. With my medication and the bad memories it brings up I have stayed away from alcohol since my bad phase. Kate has asked me if I wanted a glass of wine sometimes even though I'm underage. I politely refuse and she doesn't really think anything of it. It's not a good idea with the anti-depressants and I don't really want to bring up the drinking thing.

I am finally happy with my life and I couldn't be better. I know Alex has noticed the slight change in my attitude. He said he is happy to see me living my life instead of living in the past. That was kind of a hard subject for us to talk about. We never really talk about what happened that night. I don't really want to do that, I'm just not ready to relive that. I also know that Alex remembers more of that night than I do.

I wake up from the same nightmare I have had almost every night for the past two years. They have gotten better though, I use to wake up screaming. There are certain ones that are worse than others though. The first couple months after the accident I relived it in a nightmare and then woke up to Alex shaking me awake pulling me out of it. I haven't had one like that since my overdose. Now instead of waking up screaming I wake up sweating trying to catch my breath.

I crawl out of bed still drowsy from my restless sleep and head to the kitchen to make some tea. I stop in my tracks to the Kitchen when I see Kate sitting on the couch blowing her nose. I walk into the living room to see what's going on with her. "You alright?" I ask and she looks up at me with a pink nose and a pleading face "Oh my god Ana!" she exclaims "Will you please do me a really big favor?" she asks and I wonder what has Kate looking this way "Sure, what is it?" "Someone gave me the flu and I had this Interveiw for the student newspaper today. It took me forever to get it and no one on the paper is available. I will never be able to reschedule and this is really important to me. Can you go and do the interview for me? Please Ana. Please."

Kate has never asked me for a favor and I can tell she is desperate. She has also done so much for me and I want to repay her in some way. I reluctantly say yes and she thanks me profusely. I am not really the interview type so I am kind of nervous. She gives me a list of questions and tape recorder telling me the questions will see me through. I know nothing about this guy and I have no info on this guy.

I make her a can of soup and get ready for this interview that is in a couple of hours. I would make her homemade soup but, I have to get ready and I don't really have time. I do my usual morning routine and try to look presentable for this thing. I put on a little mascara witch I don't normally do, I'm not really a makeup person. I style my hair in a simple messy bun to keep it out of my face. Searching in my closet for something business like that I can wear. I find a simple black sheath dress that I designed and pair it with a belt. I don't bother with jewelry, I usually only wear my necklace anyway and I don't see any reason to.

I walk out of my room and ask Kate to borrow some shoes from her. She says its fine so I go into her closet and grab out some matching black pumps. I grab my purse and the list of questions and I go check on Kate before leaving. I walk in the living room to find her in the same place as I left her. "I know you don't like driving but, you should take my car." I don't really know where I am going and I don't want to be late so I acquiesce. He hands me her keys and the tape recorder and I am on my way out the door.

I hop into Kate sporty Mercedes and head off into the direction of Mr. Grey's office. I find myself pulling up to a huge office building. I hop out of the car and walk into the very clinical building. Walking up to the huge round reception desk I am greeted by an immaculate blonde. "I'm here to see Mr. Grey. Anastasia Steele for Katherine Kavanagh." I say trying not to be intimated. After a minute of searching her computer she has me sign in handing me a visitor pass and giving me directions to the elevators.

I go up to the twentieth floor and find myself in a similar lobby with another blonde. She points to a seated area of white leather chairs asking me to wait. The floor to ceiling windows have me mesmerized by the views of Seattle. I start to fidget in my seat suddenly overwhelmed and nervous to meet this man. I know nothing about him and I don't ever do anything like this.

Yet another blonde enters from a door on the other side of the foyer. What is up with all these blondes? I think to myself. She asks me if I want anything to drink and I politely refuse, she walk over to a large desk and they both continue working. The office door opens and an attractive African- American man walk out. He turns and asks "Golf, this week, Grey." I don't hear the reply. He turns, sees me, and smiles, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. The first blonde I encountered jumps from her desk to call the elevator, she seems more nervous than me. "Good afternoon ladies" he says when he leaves through the sliding door.

The second blonde tells me to go through and I stand gathering my purse and go to the partially open door. "You don't need to knock – just go in." She smiles kindly. I push open the door and stumble through, tripping over my own feet, and falling head first into the office. I am on my hands and knees in the doorway to Mr. Grey's office, and gentle hands are around me helping me to stand. I am so em barrassed and I have to steel myself to glance up. Holy shit, this guy is hot and nothing like I expected.

"Miss Kavanagh." He extends a long-fingered hand to me once I'm upright. "I'm Christian Grey. Are you all right? Would you like to sit?" So young – and attractive, very attractive. He's tall, dressed in a fine gray suit, white shirt, and black tie with unruly dark copper colored hair and intense, bright gray eyes that regard me shrewdly. It takes a moment for me to find my voice. "Um. Actually–" I mutter. In a daze, I place my hand in his and we shake. As our fingers touch, I feel an odd exhilarating shiver run through me. Must be static. I blink rapidly, my eyelids matching my heart rate.

"Miss Kavanagh is indisposed, so she sent me. I hope you don't mind, Mr. Grey."

"And you are?" His voice is warm, possibly amused, but it's difficult to tell from his impassive expression. He looks mildly interested, but above all, polite. "Anastasia Steele."

"Would you like to sit?" He waves me toward a white leather buttoned L-shaped couch. His office is way too big for just one man. In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, there's a huge modern dark-wood desk that six people could comfortably eat around. It matches the coffee table by the couch. Everything else is white – ceiling, floors, and walls except, on the wall by the door, where a mosaic of small paintings hang, thirty-six of them arranged in a square. They are exquisite – a series of mundane, forgotten objects painted in such precise detail they look like photographs. Displayed together, they are breathtaking.

"A local artist. Trouton," says Grey when he catches my gaze. "They're lovely. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary," I murmur, distracted both by him and the paintings. He cocks his head to one side and regards me intently. "I couldn't agree more, Miss Steele," he replies, his voice soft and for some inexpli cable reason I find myself blushing.

Apart from the paintings, the rest of the office is cold, clean, and clinical. I wonder if it reflects the personality of the Adonis who sinks gracefully into one of the white leather chairs opposite me. I shake my head, disturbed at the direction of my thoughts, and retrieve Kate's questions from my purse. Next, I set up the recorder and am all fingers and thumbs, dropping it on the coffee table in front of me. When I pluck up the courage to look at him, he's watching me, one hand relaxed in his lap and the other cupping his chin and trailing his long index finger across his lips. I think he's trying to suppress a smile.

"Sorry," I stutter. "I'm not used to this."

"Take all the time you need, Miss Steele," he says.

"Do you mind if I record your answers?"

"After you've taken so much trouble to set up the recorder – you ask me now?"

I flush. He's teasing me? I hope. I blink at him, unsure what to say, and I think he takes pity on me because he relents. "No, I don't mind."

"Good," I swallow nervously. Pressing the start button on the recorder, I try to look professional. "You're very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your suc cess?" I glance up at him. His smile is rueful, but he looks vaguely disappointed. "Business is all about people, Miss Steele, and I'm very good at judging people. I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn't, what inspires them, and how to incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team, and I reward them well." He pauses and fixes me with his gray stare. "My belief is to achieve success in any scheme one has to make oneself master of that scheme, know it inside and out, know every detail. I work hard, very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic and facts. I have a natural gut instinct that can spot and nurture a good solid idea and good people. The bottom line is, it's always down to good people."

"Maybe you're just lucky." This isn't on Kate's list – but he's so arrogant. His eyes flare momentarily in surprise. "I don't subscribe to luck or chance, Miss Steele. The harder I work the more luck I seem to have. It really is all about having the right people on your team and directing their energies accordingly. I think it was Harvey Firestone who said 'the growth and develop ment of people is the highest calling of leadership."

"You sound like a control freak." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. "Oh, I exercise control in all things, Miss Steele," he says without a trace of humor in his smile. "Besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things," he continues, his voice soft. "Do you feel that you have immense power?" Control Freak.

"I employ over forty thousand people, Miss Steele. That gives me a certain sense of responsibility – power, if you will. If I were to decide I was no longer interested in the telecommunications business and sell up, twenty thousand people would struggle to make their mortgage payments after a month or so."

My mouth drops open. I am staggered by his lack of humility.

"Don't you have a board to answer to?" I ask, disgusted. "I own my company. I don't have to answer to a board." He raises an eyebrow at me. I flush. Of course, I would know this if I had done some research. But holy crap, he's so arrogant. I change tack.

"And do you have any interests outside your work?"

"I have varied interests, Miss Steele." A ghost of a smile touches his lips.

"Very varied." And for some reason, I'm confounded and heated by his steady gaze. His eyes are alight with some wicked thought. "But if you work so hard, what do you do to chill out?" "Chill out?" He smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. I stop breathing. He really is beautiful. No one should be this good-looking. "Well, to 'chill out' as you put it – I sail, I fly, I indulge in various physical pursuits." He shifts in his chair. "I'm a very wealthy man, Miss Steele, and I have expensive and absorbing hobbies."

I glance quickly at Kate's questions, wanting to get off this subject. "You invest in manufacturing. Why, specifically?" I ask. Why does he make me so uncomfortable? "I like to build things. I like to know how things work: what makes things tick, how to construct and deconstruct. And I have a love of ships. What can I say?" "That sounds like your heart talking rather than logic and facts." His mouth quirks up, and he stares appraisingly at me.

"Possibly. Though there are people who'd say I don't have a heart."

"Why would they say that?"

"Because they know me well." His lip curls in a wry smile.

"Would your friends say you're easy to get to know?" And I regret the question as soon as I say it. It's not on Kate's list. "I'm a very private person, Miss Steele. I go a long way to protect my privacy. I don't often give interviews," he trails off. "Why did you agree to do this one?"

"Because I'm a benefactor of the University, and for all intents and purposes, I couldn't get Miss Kavanagh off my back. She badgered and badgered my PR people, and I admire that kind of tenacity."

"You also invest in farming technologies. Why are you interested in this area?"

"We can't eat money, Miss Steele, and there are too many people on this planet who don't have enough to eat."

"That sounds very philanthropic. Is it something you feel passionately about? Feeding the world's poor?" He shrugs, very non-committal. "It's shrewd business," he murmurs, though I think he's being disingenuous. It doesn't make sense – feeding the world's poor? I can't see the financial benefits of this, only the virtue of the ideal. I glance at the next question, confused by his attitude.

"Do you have a philosophy? If so, what is it?"

"I don't have a philosophy as such. Maybe a guiding principle – Carnegie's: 'A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled.' I'm very singular, driven. I like control – of myself and those around me."

"So you want to possess things?" You are a control freak.

"I want to deserve to possess them, but yes, bottom line, I do."

"You sound like the ultimate consumer."

"I am." He smiles, but the smile doesn't touch his eyes. Again this is at odds with someone who wants to feed the world, so I can't help thinking that we're talking about something else, but I'm absolutely mystified as to what it is. I swallow hard. The tempera ture in the room is rising or maybe it's just me. I just want this interview to be over. Surely Kate has enough material now? I glance at the next question.

"You were adopted. How far do you think that's shaped the way you are?" Oh, this is personal. I stare at him, hoping he's not offended. His brow furrows.

"I have no way of knowing."

My interest is piqued.

"How old were you when you were adopted?"

"That's a matter of public record, Miss Steele." His tone is stern. I flush, again. Crap. Yes of course – if I'd known I was doing this interview, I would have done some research. I move on quickly.

"You've had to sacrifice a family life for your work." "That's not a question." He's terse. "Sorry." I squirm, and he's made me feel like an errant child. I try again. "Have you had to sacrifice a family life for your work?" "I have a family. I have a brother and a sister and two loving parents. I'm not interested in extending my family beyond that."

"Are you gay, Mr. Grey?" He inhales sharply, and I cringe, mortified. Crap. Why didn't I employ some kind of filter before I read this straight out? How can I tell him I'm just reading the questions? Damn Kate and her curiosity! "No Anastasia, I'm not." He raises his eyebrows, a cool gleam in his eyes. He does not look pleased. "I apologize. It's um… written here." It's the first time he's said my name. My heartbeat has accelerated, and my cheeks are heating up again.

He cocks his head to one side. "These aren't your own questions?" The blood drains from my head. Oh no. "Err… no. Kate – Miss Kavanagh – she compiled the questions." "Are you colleagues on the student paper?" Oh crap. I have nothing to do with the student paper; I don't even go to U-Dub.

"No. She's my roommate." He rubs his chin in quiet deliberation, his gray eyes appraising me. "Did you volunteer to do this interview?" he asks, his voice deadly quiet. Hang on, who's supposed to be interviewing whom? His eyes burn into me, and I'm compelled to answer with the truth. "I was drafted. She's not well." My voice is weak and apologetic. "That explains a great deal."

There's a knock at the door, and Blonde Number Two enters. "Mr. Grey, forgive me for interrupting, but your next meeting is in two minutes." "We're not finished here, Andrea. Please cancel my next meeting." She hesitates, gaping at him. She's appears lost. He turns his head slowly to face her and raises his eyebrows. She flushes bright pink. Oh good. It's not just me. "Very well, Mr. Grey," she mutters, then exits. He frowns, and turns his attention back to me.

"Where were we, Miss Steele?" Oh, we're back to 'Miss Steele' now. "Please don't let me keep you from anything." He places his elbows on the arms of the chair and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth. His mouth is very… distracting. I swallow. "Would you like me to show you around?" he asks out of nowhere.

"I'm sure you're far too busy, Mr. Grey."

"Did you get everything you need?"

"Yes sir," I reply, packing the recorder into my satchel. His eyes narrow, speculatively.

"Thank you for the interview, Mr. Grey."

"The pleasure's been all mine," he says, polite as ever. As I rise, he stands and holds out his hand. "Until we meet again, Miss Steele." And it sounds like a challenge, or a threat, I'm not sure which. I frown. When will we ever meet again? I shake his hand once more, astounded that that odd current between us is still there. It must be my nerves.

"Mr. Grey." I nod at him. Moving with lithe athletic grace to the door, he opens it wide. "Just ensuring you make it through the door, Miss Steele." He gives me a small smile. Obviously, he's referring to my earlier less-than-elegant entry into his office. I flush.

"That's very considerate, Mr. Grey," I snap, and his smile widens. I'm glad you find me entertaining, I glower inwardly, walking into the foyer. I'm surprised when he follows me out. Andrea and the other blonde look up surprised.

His long index finger presses the button summoning the elevator, and we stand waiting – awkwardly on my part, coolly self-possessed on his. The doors open, and I hurry in desperate to escape. I really need to get out of here. When I turn to look at him, he's leaning against the doorway beside the elevator with one hand on the wall. He really is very, very good-looking. It's distracting. His burning gray eyes gaze at me.

"Anastasia," he says as a farewell.

"Christian," I reply. And mercifully, the doors close.

Authors Note: Sorry to steal so much of the interview from the book. I couldn't really come up with anything different so, I just changed some things to make it fit. The next chapter should be more interesting, after all they do have to meet again.