Chapter 2

Christian

I hear a light knock on my office door. "Come in," I bark.

Andrea steps inside and quietly closes the door behind her. "Mr. Grey. I apologize for interrupting, but PR has something they wanted me to discuss with you."

I fight the juvenile urge to roll my eyes. Doesn't PR know that I have shit to do? "Go ahead."

"The American Innovation Awards are being held in Seattle this year. They are a set of rather prestigious business awards. You have been honored before and never attended. However, they are planning to give you a special award for your work in corporate sustainability. And…" She clears her throat. "PR believes that attending in person would be a wise move for you, given the recent… changes in the business landscape here. It's the awards followed by dinner and dancing. They believe it would be beneficial to be seen and reinforce your standing as a leader in this region."

"PR thinks my standing is on shaky ground, is that it?" Andrea shifts uncomfortably. Jesus, Grey, don't shoot the messenger. "Thank you, Andrea. Is that all?"

"The report you were waiting on, sir." She walks forward and places a manila folder on my desk. "Can I be of any further help?"

"Thank you, that will be all." She nods and makes herself scarce. I put my frustration with my errant PR team aside and open up the folder.

Cameron Westerley has had a meteoric rise in the technology and artificial intelligence community. He's invented some robot that claims to make the lives of both major corporations and individual citizens easier, cutting out the middleman for many of their daily operations. Basically, you give it a prompt and it magically does all the research and development for you. The average Joe can plan and budget a vacation without lifting a finger, while media companies can churn out content with less than half the manpower.

Some may call it evidence that one day the robots are going to take over and destroy us, but some say progress is progress.

I think it's my business to know what I'm up against, so I created a team within my company to research his company's current projects, their implications, and their competition. Sure, he's a nerdy whiz kid who invented something useful, but he's not the only one. I'm thinking it might not be a bad idea to get some of his adversaries on my side.

I note as I thumb through the rest of the paperwork that Westerley will also be receiving an accolade at the American Innovation Awards this week. Small fucking world. I find myself gripping the edges of the folder more roughly than necessary as I recall the glimpse I got of him at that god awful Kavanaugh event. Not to mention his companion, whose likeness to a ghost of my past has been haunting me more than I would ever admit.

I don't know what the hell is wrong with me lately. The way she drove me to distraction back then was maddening, and it's almost like my brain is inventing new reasons to throw me off my game right when I need to be stepping it up. Besides, I know better. In the hindsight I gathered after that time, I swore off of… what had she called it? More. That's it. There is no more. I had as much as I would ever get.

I pick up the phone and press the speed dial number for the team that generated this report. "Mr. Grey?"

"Set up interviews with the bios from pages thirty-two and thirty-eight. I want their expertise on our side. And get working on some concrete ideas for how this technology can influence our sectors. Is it being used for any sustainability effort? There must be an environmental angle."

"Of course, sir. Anything else?"

"Not at the moment. By end of day tomorrow?"

"Will do, sir."

I hang up and return to the report. A second read will help me further dissect what we know about him now. He may know robots, but I know business. Welcome to Seattle, Westerley.

"Such an eyesore to the skyline," Ros grumbles.

I look up from my phone and follow her gaze up to the building. Westerley Technology. A flagrant addition, indeed. I smirk at Ros's tone. "So, I don't have to worry about him luring you over?"

"God, no. I find the idea of another young, rich, white guy disgusting."

"As opposed to?" I gesture towards myself.

"Oh, please, you're not that young." I snort and she smiles wickedly. "And I've gotten used to you. Besides, you were all business even back then when you were seven years his junior. This guy seems to be enjoying this way too much."

Another member of the frat boy tech world. "There is just something punchable about him."

She laughs. "I'm morbidly curious to see him in person. He always acts like he's winning an Oscar when there are cameras around. I hate the taste of ham, and I don't like the personality of one much more."

I'm finding Ros's obvious disdain for the man refreshing. I guess I'm not the only one with beef. This is not my first choice for a Friday night activity. Then again, I'm between submissives anyway. Not that that's been anything close to what it used to be since— No. We're not going there now. Focus.

We arrive outside the Fairmont Olympic. I get out of the car, studiously ignoring the flashing cameras and yelling maniacs.

"Mr. Grey, are you trying to acquire Westerley Technology?"

"Mr. Grey, how do you feel about a little competition?"

"Mr. Grey, are you concerned about the future of AI?"

Shut the fuck up.

We are ushered to our seats in an auditorium where the awards will take place. We are reasonably on time, but it seems someone is late again. Wildly unprofessional behavior, if you ask me. A hotel employee leans in as we sit. "Mr. Grey, would you mind waiting backstage? Your award is one of the first. And it will give you more privacy, sir."

Well, that I certainly won't mind. "Thank you." He shows me back and I return to my emails as I stand in the shrouded area.

I chuckle as I receive an email from Ros cursing me for leaving her 'alone to wait for the golden child,' and I'm glad I don't have to deal with that parade when he walks in. I can't hear any of the goings-on in the audience from here, so I'm plenty distracted with more important things until I see the emcee getting ready to go out, and reluctantly put my device away.

"Good evening, folks. We are so excited to be here in the beautiful city of Seattle…" Blah blah blah. I tap my foot impatiently as they talk through the meaning of this organization and begin the awards, until finally I'm quietly informed that I'm next, so I step into position ready to go on stage. "Our next award is a special one. In fact, one we've come up with just for its recipient. This man's work in business is only rivaled by his global sustainability efforts. Innovation comes with efficiency, and efficiency can be measured by how our planet keeps the score against our actions as humans. Grey Enterprises Holdings is the largest carbon neutral corporation in the world, offsetting its carbon emissions since 2016. GEH has also created a program to audit and assist other companies to become carbon neutral as well as other sustainability initiatives. So, here to receive our Sustainable Global Leader award, please welcome to the stage the CEO of Grey Enterprises Holdings, Christian Grey."

A rumbling of applause begins, and I stride onto the stage, shaking the emcee's hand and turning to face the crowd. I briefly glance at Ros, who is smiling in amusement, then fixate my gaze towards the livestream camera in the middle of the auditorium. "I would like to thank American Innovation for recognizing and highlighting our efforts. We at GEH are very proud of our stance as a global leader in both the corporate and environmental sectors. When I founded my company at the age of twenty-one, I quickly realized that with great power comes great responsibility, and not a day goes by that I don't do my best to rise to the challenge. It is my belief that the measure of a company's success must be based on not just what the company has gained, but what they have given back with their good fortune. Protecting our environment has never been a question of whether we are able to, but whether we are willing to. There is an Indian proverb that I have carried with me as I've achieved my own personal success, and I think it is a worthy reminder to us all; 'Only when the last tree has died, the last river has been poisoned, and the last fish been caught will we realize we cannot eat money.' Thank you." The cheering and applause restarts as I take the glass plaque they've presented me with and make my exit.

PR cannot possibly have any bone to pick with me now.

I'm ushered back to my seat, hoping to whatever higher power exists that they move this shit along. "We're not staying for dinner," I whisper to Ros.

She whips her head around. "Oh, yes the fuck we are! I was promised a night off from the kids for this and I'm not wasting it. Besides, Kelly in PR practically begged me to make sure we're seen for the whole night. You're stuck."

I resist the urge to groan and straighten back up in my seat. What a waste of time and resources. A roomful of stuffed shirts patting themselves on the back for not shitting the bed at their jobs. I check the program every two minutes or so, and after several more awards and a few speeches that could easily have been halved, we finally reach the last one.

The newbie.

"And last but certainly not least, we would like to welcome to the stage a newer face in this realm, and we hear in this city as well! Westerley Technology has made waves in the artificial intelligence community, and its founder officially has our attention. Please welcome to the stage the recipient of our coveted Best New Entrepreneur award, Cameron Westerley."

The room erupts with applause as he saunters onto the stage and his face is suddenly magnified on the big screen behind him. I have to consciously keep my face from scowling. Almost visibly dripping with hubris, he holds up his little trophy and leans into the mic. "This is a fantastic honor from American Innovation. Thank you to our incredible team of both robots and humans at Westerley Tech, to Seattle for such a warm welcome to the city, and of course, to my beautiful fiancée, Anastasia Steele. Let's get a camera on her, come on."

And my blood runs cold as suddenly a very familiar face, one that's haunted both my waking and dreaming hours, one that I never thought I'd ever see again, dominates the screen.

Anastasia. My Anastasia. Older, somehow even more beautiful, her cheeks heated as she gives a shy wave with a demure smile. Her hand is decorated with a massive diamond.

I'm vaguely aware that the motherfucker whose voice sounded all wrong saying her name is still talking. "You've been my rock, angel, I couldn't do it without you. Thank you all for coming!"

The applause resumes as I grip the armrest of my chair, trying to make sense of this fucking cosmic joke. This annoying little shit has not only given me a migraine in the business world, but he's romantically attached to the most intoxicating, mesmerizing fixation of a woman I've ever encountered. He's basking in the company of a wrecked, wasted dream of mine. They're getting married.

That night. It wasn't someone who looked like her. It was her.

Married. Romance. Just what she always wanted.

I think I'm going to be sick.

I recognize the war inside my mind. I don't want to stay to witness this, now more than ever, and yet I couldn't walk away if I wanted to. Her magnetic field is too strong. Now that she's back, I feel drawn to stay here. What masochism.

"Whoa, Christian, you okay?" Ros lightly shakes my rigid arm.

Somehow, Westerley is no longer onstage, and the crowd is dispersing. "Go find our table. I'll be right there."

She nods, still looking at me like I have ants crawling out of my eyes, but joins the flow of traffic towards the dining room. I'm one of the last ones out of the auditorium. I'm well-practiced at hiding any sort of distress I'm in, so any onlookers would never know the inner turmoil slithering through me. I have to find her. I can't see her with someone else.

But suddenly, the former thought is what fate decides.

There she is.

She's standing to the side of the bustling hallway, looking down. She appears to be fumbling with her small clutch. I think I catch a little 'v' of frustration between her brows as she rummages through it. The bag slips out of her gloved hands and softly lands on the floor.

Before rational thought can decide if this is wise or not, I'm swiftly across the room and on my knees in front of her, stooping to pick up the bag. She's kneeling too, and lets out a soft gasp when she sees my hand beat hers to the bag. She looks up and… Heaven help me. My heart stutters. Or perhaps I'm just drowning in clear blue waters. My memories haven't done that shade of blue justice.

"Miss Steele," I murmur. My mouth curls around her name like it was always on the tip of my tongue.

"Mr. Grey," she responds after a beat in her same soft, honeyed voice.

We both stand up almost completely in sync, just staring at each other. Her lips are slightly parted, her eyes are widened in surprise or shock or maybe because she thinks she's looking at a predator. I don't know how or if she's thought of me over the years, but our last encounter was… I repress a shudder. My worst of moments.

So much is happening at once within me. At the same time I recall my deplorable behavior, I can't help but notice my body responding to the sight of her. Heat is coursing south as I take in her full lips, rosy cheeks, statuesque shoulders, collarbones, the curve at the top of her breasts… God, I remember those breasts…

"Mr. Grey! Man, we finally meet."

My sweet visual mosey through her face is interrupted by the last person on earth I want to see.

Westerley is grinning at me like we're old friends and holding his hand out. "It's an honor, sir."

Out of pure decorum, I shake it. "Westerley."

"I see you've met my fiancée," he continues, seemingly oblivious to my less than lukewarm reception of him. "Hey, she actually used to live here! I don't suppose your paths ever crossed?" he chuckles.

Oh, did they ever. I'd love to tell him exactly how many times and in what positions.

Anastasia clears her throat and gives us both a small, impassive smile. "Actually, Mr. Grey spoke at my graduation."

"Wow, small world! I can't believe you've never mentioned that." He's still smiling brightly. He reminds me of some sort of ignorant breed of golden retriever.

"That wasn't the first time we'd met, of course." Her eyes widen a fraction. I wonder if it's wise for me to play with fire like this, but I want her to acknowledge me. Own me. What we had. In front of him. I need it.

"No… of course." She puts her hand on his arm, and an unfamiliar emotion roils through me. "Remember, I've told you before that there was one time I had to fill in for Kate in an interview for the school paper? Mr. Grey was the interview."

She turns her head and looks me straight in the eyes, giving nothing away. This is certainly a departure from the Anastasia I remember. Here I am, making reference to our significant sexual past in front of her fiancé, and she's cool as a cucumber. She's not even blushing.

"No shit! Damn, this really is a small world. Seattle is really starting to feel like small town vibes!"

"I do hope you're enjoying your time here," I say without an ounce of sincerity.

"We love it here!" he gushes, rubbing Anastasia's back. My fingers twitch at the sight and I imagine what the silky material of her dress feels like. She keeps her gaze slightly downward, and I almost get the feeling she doesn't quite agree with that sentiment. "I've been trying to get in a room with you since we moved. You're pretty hard to track down."

That's the idea. I say nothing, but he continues.

"Maybe we can sit together at dinner? If you look at the things we both specialize in, I think you and I have so much to talk about. I'd love to set up a—"

And immediately, as I continue to watch his fingers lazily grazing her back, I know I can't be a witness to this. Ros be damned. It's too… infuriating. Distressing. Confusing. "I apologize, but I have to be going."

Anastasia's head flicks up a bit at this, but her fuckface fiancé is the one who speaks. "Are you sure? I—"

"Have a good evening, Mr. Grey," Anastasia interjects. She looks pointedly at Westerley, then gives me a small smile and a nod, her gaze still impassive.

My chest grows heavy. She's dismissing me. She doesn't want this conversation to continue. And though no one could blame her, I suddenly wish I could have a discussion with Westerley on using his technology to create a time machine.

I allow myself to caress her name one more time. "Miss Steele." I rip my eyes away from her to turn to him. "Westerley. Perhaps we'll meet again." I don't know why I say this. I don't know if I want it to be true. Before he can respond, I'm walking away. It's both relief and agony.

I nod to Taylor when I see him and with almost inhuman speed, the car is pulled around. I take a few breaths as we drive away, trying to slow my heart rate, then pick up my phone.

"Welch. I need a full background check on Cameron Westerley."

Maybe it would be better if I left it alone, but I can't. I never could with her.

A/N: I have heard there have been some recurrent issues with the story not being available to some people, and I'm not sure why that is! I had to post this one twice and I'm just hoping it shows up eventually. It seems like the problem comes and goes? I'm sorry, I wish I knew! If it's unavailable to read or review when you look at it, I'd so appreciate it if you'd try to come back later. Thank you for reading!

Anyway. This is already so fun to write. ;) any theories for what this dynamic is going to be like if they keep running into each other?

And remember, in the words of Michael Scott: engaged ain't married.