Chapter Five – The Preliminary Agreement
Ana
Switching the piping bag to my other hand, I flick my right wrist, rotating it a few times. I've just completed piping the rims of the top and the base of seven Genoise strawberry-filled cakes with ganache frosting.
"Good work, Ana" Philippa applaud. She comes close to my ear, "Just think of it, in six months you can be the next Pâtissière" she sing-songs.
"Thank you, that's kind of you to say but no one can ever replace you, Philippa, your name is legendary in this city. With the number of years and experience you have under your belt, there's no way I'll be as good as you".
"Don't say that" she frets, "you're very talented, look at that beautiful rosé for that ganache. Your combinations and the way you mix those colors befuddle me. I'll make sure before I retire, you'll get that position".
"Thanks, but no, my apprenticeship will be over in two months and Jack has already determined my fate" I note lackluster, "You're looking at the next Junior Chef".
"Nonsense, you have an eye for pastry making, and it's pastry making you shall do. You leave it to me, Jack is your mentor, not Head Chef, always remember that" she advises with a smile, "Let's get these cakes in the refrigerator, shall we?"
It's a slow night, my kind of night and it's almost time to close, but I feel his presence close, and then I'm startled out of my skin. I sense him near me, so I inhale and then exhale slowly.
"One of these days I'll cut my finger off because of you Jack," I say low and impassive.
"Did I frighten you, Ana?" he croons lightly.
"No," Of course you did.
He places two dishes before me and goes off to retrieve two more. Looking at the placement of the plates, I can see he deliberately set them wrong. I position them appropriately and begin to complete and garnish the dishes. Approvingly, he nods and collects the plates without a peep this time.
"Hmm, you learned your mistake from the last time" he taunts.
"Of course, I did," I simply say. "And with you placing intended traps for me, how could I not be wary."
He opens his mouth to voice something, but he's cut off by Patina, one of the waitresses calling my name.
"There's a man asking for you in the dining area," she motions to the doors with her eyebrows lifted and her face flushed, "he says it's very important and you'd want to see him".
"Did he give you a name?" I drawl.
"Nope," she purses her lips, "But I'm counting on you to give it to me, he's really hot".
Ethan? . . . "Where is he?"
"He's off to the left by himself, you can't miss him . . . What's wrong, you want me to tell him you're not here," she says concerned.
"No, it's alright; I'll go see who it is."
Jack is staring down at me bothered, too bothered.
"Alone," I add, specifically for him.
Gathering my nerves, I pace out of the kitchen slowly but my heart is racing. I always knew this day would come, the day when he would show up uninvited. There are a few people scattered across the room, they've completed their meals but they're quietly chatting. I see him sitting on the far left of the room, I know who it is, and it isn't Ethan. Relief begins to wash over me when I stand alongside him and cross my arms. I try to remove whatever foreboding thoughts from my mind before I address him. I know, what happened over the weekend was an unfortunate accident, but I won't be wiping it from my memory anytime soon.
"Good evening, Christian Grey"
His eyes raked me from head to toe, "Look at you! You're dressed in your uniform and that silly hat . . . ."
"How can I help you?"
"Well, if you're offering help, I bet I can find something you can help me with".
"Please don't do this, not now," I say fatigued.
"Do what?" he mocks, his tone dripping with pretense.
"Provoke me; I'm not in the mood".
"Then tell me, Anastasia, what are you in the mood for?" he smirks.
I pause long enough to wipe any suggestive thoughts from my mind. "Look, is this important because I have work to do,"
"I don't know" he glances at the menu pretending to skim over the words, "What's good here."
"Everything, sir," I size him up, "but the kitchen is closed, maybe you can visit the bar if you're thirsty. Oh wait, you shouldn't be drinking after your recent episode, will water suffice?"
"I'm not impressed by your attempt to mock me, what if I'm hungry" he goads.
"Is this why you came down here, to provoke me?"
"Truthfully, yes. I was talking to my brother on the way home and I sort of mentioned your name, just to see how you were doing of course . . ."
"Of course," I mutter deadpan.
". . .and he told you were working the evening shift, here. Then lo and behold, minutes later I found myself driving past the Sheraton".
"Somehow I find that coincidence hard to believe," I accuse.
He goes silent when his eyes move to the top of my head. "Anastasia,"
"Yes," I breathe.
"You really look silly in that hat," he says blankly.
Rolling my eyes, I turn on my heels, getting ready to walk back to the kitchen.
"No, no, wait, sorry" he titters, "Don't go, I'll behave, I promise. I haven't heard from you in a few days so. . ."
"So you decided that you would drop in," I shrug my shoulders, "You have my number"
"And I would have bet anything that you wouldn't have answered," he wags his finger at me.
"True, but we'll never know now would we" I cock my head.
He turns to me fully, facing me directly in the chair, "I'm not sure what I'm getting from you right now. Are you still angry at me?"
"Not really, but I haven't gotten that out of my system. It's not every day a totally drunk guy vomits into the front of your dress in the early hours of the morning".
"You say it like I did it on purpose."
"No, that's not what I'm saying but it could have been prevented, don't you think."
He stiffens his jaw, "We have to talk about our arrangement".
"Agreed, but not now, at the moment I'm tired and I'm no good to anyone this way, and oh god" I sigh, fluttering my eyes.
"What's wrong?"
"It's Jack, he's coming over here."
"Whose Jack?" he attempts to look around the room.
"No, don't . . . just keep looking at me" I motion inconspicuous.
Sensing him approaching us, I close my eyes and rub my fingers against my forehead.
"Ana," I force an unsolicited smile, "Is everything alright?"
"Yes Jack, everything is alright. I'm wrapping up a conversation here".
He turns his curious attention to Christian. "This is interesting, I thought I knew everyone in your life. Tell me, is this a brother, a cousin?"
Christian places his elbow on the table and touches his temple looking back and forth between Jack and me.
"No this is Christian Grey . . . . My um, my uh . . . my boyfriend," I surrender, almost in a whisper. "Christian this is Jack Hyde, one of my guides".
"You have a boyfriend?" he exclaims almost revolted.
"I think that's what she said," Christian reiterates a bit gruff.
At that moment, he, and Christian hold a stare too long. Without breaking eye contact, Jack says he will see me when I return to the kitchen and stomps away like a sullen child. Christian keeps his eyes on him until he disappears out of the room.
"Is something going on between you and that man, I don't want any problems," he says clearly.
I frown, "I don't fraternize with co-workers if that's what you mean, that's a strict rule of mine. Some of us have principles you know . . ."
"Well, it's clear he likes you, and I don't want any problems. I have my own way of dealing with problems," he states toxic.
"Well, you don't have to worry, Jack is harmless. He's just creepy, that's all".
"Creepy? I thought I was the only creepy man in your life".
"Oh, that you remember, and you're not in my life. We're passing ships in the night" I gesture raising my palms.
"If you say so, what are you doing tomorrow morning, around ten?" he utters seriously, pushing himself from the table to get up.
"Sleeping very deeply, don't tell me you're about to suggest something that will take that away from me-"
"Of course, I am, I want you in my office at that time. Taylor will pick you up at ten-thirty, be ready for this time Ms. Steele, I despise tardiness".
"Fine, I'll see you in the morning. I'm too tired to offer a great rebuttal to your attempt to bully me," I answer flat and tread back quickly to the kitchen.
. . . . .
"Good morning, Ms Anastasia" I observe his radiant smile through the rearview mirror.
"Well good morning, Mr Taylor, and how are you this morning" I respond equally.
"I'm doing well, Ms Anastasia, you can call me Taylor."
"Well, like I said before, you should call me Ana," I smile.
The corners of his eyes crease adding to his exuberance. We merge into the Wednesday mid-morning traffic effortless, but it's been at a crawl for almost half an hour. It's hardly noticeable because Taylor and I are talking continuously throughout the journey. We arrive in the business metropolis of the city where all the fine people of the city do their routine nine-to-five lives like busy worker bees in a colony. In the backdrop of a breezy morning, the winds sweep my hair off my shoulders. I'm wearing a simple blouse, white slim-fit pants, black pumps, and my favorite royal blue double-breasted coat. I put on my shades and placed my handbag on my forearm. Taylor escorts me to the designated floor but he doesn't exit the elevator.
Behind my sunglasses, my eyes come alive as I step into the world of strikingly, thin professional women. Everyone is attired immaculate, not one undesirable crease in their apparel. In divergence to me, their hair is stylish but demure and pulled away from their faces exposing the curves of their exquisite facial features, whereas I let my hair down and just draped it over my left shoulder. One of them leaves the reception area and glides towards me.
"Ms Steele" I'm not surprised that she knows who I am, "May I take your coat?"
"No, thank you" I decline pleasantly.
"As you wish," she smiles, "Please, let me accompany you to Mr. Grey's office".
I signal her to lead the way and she does so graciously. As we walk away from the communal office layout, my eyes wander fleeting around the adjacent rooms. The trek to my destination isn't far but it's a vast contrast to the staff that shares a common space. The corridor that leads to massive double doors is empty, dull, and lifeless. She takes a step to the side and then gestures for me to proceed inside. My entry is noiseless so it's no surprise that his back is facing me when I walk in. I soon realize that he's on call, an earpiece is attached to him. There's a lot of space in the room and the furniture is basic and functional, with no extra frills. It's a place for work and only work. Not wanting to be presumptuous or rude, I wait silently for an invitation into the room.
As I watched on quietly, I recalled the first time I saw him, he looked very much like this, well put together, seamless, confident not to mention gorgeous. But you would never know what he's like until you speak to him, to most women his outward appearance is an instant attraction, and the notion that he may be loaded with money seems to accompany his demeanor. Sensations of awkwardness fill me, and I decide to part my lips to announce myself, instead, I'm jolted by the words that come flying out of his mouth.
"THAT IS UNACCEPTABLE . . . . .If you cannot prepare the goddamn launch within the stipulated timeline then you should hand in the project . . . . . No, I'll assemble another team to do it, don't waste my fucking time . . . . . . Then get it done for god's sake" he touches his earpiece and ends the call.
He finally turns to me undaunted. "I realize you've been standing there a while."
"Yes well, I didn't want to intrude . . ."
"What the hell are you talking about, you're here for a meeting by my invitation . . ."
"You can stop right there," I raise my hand to him, "Don't be impolite, and don't take your frustrations out on me if you want, we could reschedule this. It seems like I caught you at a bad time".
"Don't be ridiculous. . . ."
"I'm being ridiculous!" My eyes widen.
"No" he exclaims, clenching his fists in mid-air, stutters in frustration, then calms himself in that order. "Good morning, Ms Steele"
"Good morning, Mr Grey," I say composed.
"I apologize, please sit, and thank you for your punctual attendance."
"You're welcome, it was done with great difficulty, but I managed" The statement was meant to make him smile however, I failed massively. "I see you're having a not-so-enthusiastic day."
"You're right, I'm not having a good day but it's a minor setback. I'm hoping that you wouldn't do or say anything to increase my already elevated stress levels".
"As long as you can return the favor," I strain a smile.
We both sit at the same time on opposite ends of the couch. I busy myself aware that his eyes are closely watching every move I make. Rummaging through my handbag, I finally pull out a small recorder and place it on the coffee table before us.
"We're not using that," he commands immediately. "I didn't approve it."
"Well, I'm not writing, are you going to get one of your beautiful assistants to come take notes?" I say straight-faced.
"Don't be . . ."
"If you call me ridiculous again, I'm going to walk out of here" I warn.
"I wasn't going to say," he mentions quickly, "I was just saying, don't you know this is a private matter?"
"I'm fully aware of that, Mr Grey. Are you volunteering to be the designated scribe?"
His expression is blank.
"Then I guess we'll be using this" I fake smile again.
"Fine," he relents, "but it doesn't leave this office. I'll hand it over to Amos when we're done so he can prepare the contract".
"That's fine with me . . . . where's Amos?"
"He has another engagement."
"Hmm," I smile for real this time, "He's a nice man".
"So, people say, I know him, so I beg to differ."
Not bothering to comment on the last statement, I take my fingers to my hair roughly combing it through, then put all of it to one side plaiting it into a braid. As I finish this action, I glance at the windows and take in the panoramic view on the other side of the glass.
How can you be so extreme and tensed when you're soaring high above the world? . . ."You have a nice office, it's bigger than my apartment".
"Your hair is beautiful, it suits you."
It takes a while for me to turn in his direction, I'm not sure if the words came from him. His eyes swiftly avert to something nonrelated on the coffee table when I take a glimpse at him.
"Thank you," I say under my breath, almost blushing, "I should have turned on the recorder much sooner".
"I can repeat it if you'd like."
"No, it's okay, the moment's gone," I say without prejudice then reaching forward to turn on the device.
"We're here to discuss and outline an arrangement undertaken by you, Anastasia Steele, and me, Christian Grey. The details of this arrangement will be generated and finalized by Mr. Amos Gendry; Mr. Gendry is my attorney. The arrangement will be approved once you and I have concurred and established mutual acquiescence with all parameters and guidelines within the physical contract. Do you agree with the statement I've just given surrounding the terms of this meeting?"
"Yes, I do, it was straightforward enough, and I respect that we both can suggest the rules of this arrangement".
"Wait, I thought you weren't taking notes".
"I'm not. I just wrote a few points this morning, I tend to forget things . . . . Okay, um, let's talk about the story. You know, how did we meet and where? How long have we been together?"
He narrows his eyes, "We met last week, Anastasia, there's nothing to change in terms of the time," he ponders then pauses, "The fender bender thing is good, we can use that. Because meeting someone like you outside of that is virtually impossible. People won't believe it".
My eyebrows lift, "Someone like me, that's interesting. Do you care to explain yourself?"
"I mean look at you, you're an ordinary woman. You don't do the things I do, run in the same circles, and most likely, we won't have the same interests. What are the chances of you and me meeting other than an accident on the streets?"
I raise my hands and take a deep breath, "You'd be surprised if you had an open mind but I'm not going to touch that so let's move along . . . Let's talk about public appearances and awareness. I expect we'll need to be out in public and we must look like an actual couple, so maybe we should go out on a few dates, hold hands, no kissing of course . . . ."
"Okay, stop," he instructs, "For starters, I'm not holding hands, I won't do that".
"You can't hold my hand?"
"That's too intimate."
"Oh, okay, then you make a suggestion".
"Okay, I don't mind kissing though" he murmurs, smirking.
"No, no kissing, that's too intimate for me". I state instantly.
"Okay, we should compromise, I'll be open to holding hands if you will agree that we can kiss only when it's absolutely necessary".
I frown, and my eyes linger on his mouth, he grins, and I look away, annoyed. "Okay, but only when it's necessary".
"Agreed. . . . and I'm not a fan of pet names, so no".
"But we should have one, something simple."
"I said no pet names."
"How about darling or sweetheart?"
"No"
"Honey"
"No"
"Baby" I tease.
"No, that's even worse".
"Then what do we say?"
"We say nothing, my name is Christian and you're Anastasia," he asserts.
"You can call me Ana," I suggest.
"No, I will not call you Ana, let's move on. . . . . Tell me something about yourself and your family, your parents specifically. I remembered you saying that you were from San Diego".
For a moment, my voice ceases to exist as I take a while to give him an answer, "Currently, I'm twenty-four and as you know I'm an Apprentice Chef. I came to Seattle after I graduated from High School. I'm not aware of any existing extended family. My father left when I was two and my mother died of cancer when I was seventeen".
I hold his gaze as a derailing quietness reverberates through the room once more.
"I'm sorry . . . about your mother," he says troubled, but it doesn't take long for him to come out of it. "Seattle has been my home for as long as I can remember. I was adopted at four, Elliot was adopted at six and my sister Mia was adopted at three. I'm twenty-eight soon to be twenty-nine. My father died in a car accident and well you know my mother".
"I'm sorry about your father," I say sincerely.
He nods then takes his eyes away from me.
"I'm an only child" I add, "Kate and I have been friends since Elementary School. Outside of that, I have a handful of people here in Seattle that I call friends" I shrug my shoulders, "Colleagues, acquaintances. . ."
"What about Jack?" he cuts in, "Is he your friend?"
"No, he's a colleague". I glare.
"Who I bet wants to be much, much more" he shoots off.
"Stop it," I say threatening.
He sneers, "Speaking about friends, any future exploits with other parties should be brought to light. If you're already interested in someone or plan to be, you should let me know, I don't want to be disgraced in the tabloids".
"Well, that goes for you too," I counter.
"That won't happen to me, I know sometimes women's minds can be so fickle, one minute they want you next minute they don't know what they want."
Not again, "You know you're an asshole, right".
"So I've been told by you, twice thus far . . . . I'm available on the weekends unless I state otherwise, how's your schedule".
"My work schedule tends to change on a weekly basis; I'll apprise you when the time comes. Like I said before besides Kate, I have friends and sometimes we hang out. However, we can negotiate our time whenever our social lives overlap".
"Do you have any bad habits or anything else I should know about?"
"I won't lie I'm a bit on the clumsy side and forgetful. I don't drink alcohol, smoke, or do drugs. What about you?"
"Besides my cinnamon allergy, I'm perfect" he snickers.
"And modest too," I say derisively.
"What about sexual partners," I noticed him give me a quick once over. "How many have you had?"
"Not applicable," I comment offended, "and that's none of your business, we're not having sex anyway. No intimacy, nothing of the sort, we're not compatible" I say defensively.
"It is applicable; we wouldn't want a number of your former lovers popping back into your life. Remember we're going to be seen together, in public, and your face will be splashed across magazines, newspapers, and all over the internet. I hate surprises, the last thing I need is for the woman I'm associated with to turn out to have a history of promiscuity, and as far as us being compatible, how would you know unless you give it a try". He wriggles his eyebrows at me.
"OH GOD", I feel my body recoil and clench my teeth, "For the sake of not turning this meeting into an argument, I'll have you know that I've had only one sexual partner, one" I stress, "and that was a long-term relationship. I haven't been with anyone since. We broke up almost a year ago, I'm sure you can't match that, you know . . . For someone like you," I gesture, pointing to his chest.
The mischievousness in his eyes is gone, and they become dark and intense with his body leaning closer to me.
"You're assuming because I'm rich that I would heedlessly sleep with any woman I want, but no. I'm a very choosy man and you'll find that out soon enough. I'm particular about my family, my possessions, my employees, this company, and whom I'm seen with, especially the latter. One of the main reasons why you're sitting here with me is because you're graceful and beautiful and that will be useful to me, Ms Steele. However, you're forceful and stubborn which is a complete turnoff. You're loud, defensive, and have a limited filter on your mouth and that is going to be a problem. Simple words trigger your emotions making you fly off the handle too easily".
Why is he saying these things, I'm not loud, and I'm a very reasonable person. If I've changed it's only because of him, he's doing this to me. He makes me angry and every chance he gets he deliberately taunts me. I have a right to be this way because he's the root cause for my anxiety since the accident . . . . . Wait, did he say I was graceful and beautiful? I mute the voice in my head and finally look back at him, "Is this arrangement going to be a problem?"
"It doesn't have to be, we're talking aren't we" he leans back to his previous position.
Under his daunting stare, I feel like I'm being dissected and heavily scrutinized.
"You think you got me figured out," I say bravely.
"I'm not sure, but this is what I see" he indicates, pointing straight at me in an up-down motion.
"One day I'll tell you what I see in you," I state unruffled.
"Why not now" he baits.
"I'll pass; you seem to get off on fighting with me."
His eyes squint by a fraction. "I remembered you said no excessive drinking, in your presence. I can control that".
"No, I've decided that it should be no drinking period. What if you drink when I'm not around but I have to see you impromptu?"
"I said I can handle myself . . ."
"You want this to happen or not?" I question.
Intolerance resonates on his face for a moment. "Done, no drinking."
"I have a request," he nods, prompting me to continue, "I don't tolerate fighting in public."
"Neither do I . . . It won't happen, I promise, but we were at each other's throats last week outside your apartment".
"I'd just met you and that was a mistake, trust me I didn't bet on seeing you after that . . . Good, so we agree on one thing, no public arguments."
"Agreed" he favors, "You're welcome to my home on the weekends, I'm hardly there during the week, I only go there to sleep. Besides work, I'll be at my mother's house in my spare time".
"Why would I want to go to your home?" I say baffled.
He sighs, "I was thinking, my birthday is in a few weeks, we can get married or even . . ."
"Woah, hold on, Mr Grey. We're supposed to be planning a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship, not husband and wife. I remembered saying that we can discuss that part of the picture as time goes by".
"It's either you're all in now or not at all. Mother wants me to marry, and you are willing to help me appease her".
"Yes, appease her, not deceive her, and fill her with expectations and promises. A marriage will include, love, a bond that's transparent, and not to mention, children. None of which you and I have or will ever have".
"Let's put our cards on the table and stop wasting time, Anastasia Steele. The reason why I've invited you to my home is that you can acclimatize yourself there. When we're married, you will have to live there" I open my mouth, but he raises his hands, "Let me finish. You can have your own room; I will not interfere or intrude. Although you say you don't want any money you'll be provided with any requirement for your personal needs, whether it is clothes, shoes whatever you need to delight your feminine whims. I can't have my girlfriend/wife looking fashionably incompatible to me, even though you don't look that way now".
"I can handle myself fashionably," I assure him.
"Good, I have someone who maintains my home, security, drivers, and personal staff that can be facilitated to you at any time . . . The good thing about you I suspect is that not you're a whiny, clingy gold-digger".
"What makes you think I'm not?" I challenge.
"I know what they look like; believe me I've had my unfair share. You're too independent and you've had several chances to grab the opportunity when I dangled it in front of your face".
"Who knows probably I'm pretending," I push.
"I don't think so. Limited filter, remember? . . . . So, shall we go ahead or should we end this here and go our separate ways".
Up to twenty minutes ago my brain hadn't advanced this far, I can tell he thinks I want to back out now, but I'm not going to.
"Alright, we can go ahead. I'm suggesting that this contractual agreement be flexible, I don't think this is the end of our suggestions and fixes, and if so, we can meet again like two civilized human beings and talk about it".
"I'll have Amos draw up the papers before the day is out and yes the contract should be flexible. What are your working hours for the balance of the week?"
"Today is my day off day. Thursday, Friday afternoon into the night"
"Do you have any plans for this evening?"
"No"
"Good," he stands, towering over me, "I'll have your copy ready when you accompany me to Mother's house. Time to get to work, Anastasia Steele".
Christian
That is the third time I've seen her tugging on the hem of her dress, playing with her hair, and fiddling with that infinity scarf. She looks fine just the way she is. I don't see what the fuss is about.
"Would you like something to drink," I whisper close to her hair catching a fruity fragrance.
"Water is okay," she speaks softly.
"No, I mean would you like a drink? You're acting nervous; probably you need something to calm you down".
"It's quite alright and I already told you, I don't drink. The least you can do is respect that you condescending. . . ."
"Mother," the level of my voice increases. I stand to greet her, and Ana follows suit clasping her hands together. "You look well," I praise.
"I feel wonderful," she reacts almost excitedly. Her dancing eyes look past me to the woman behind me. "You look beautiful, Ana. It's so good to see you, my dear".
I step back and look on as she moves elated towards Anastasia; her revived spirit is certainly a refreshing change. Mother gently takes her hands; Anastasia's gaze is focused squarely on her eyes, and I can't hear what Mother is saying. She doesn't verbally respond she simply nods repetitively to Mother's low voice. A similar scene played off a few days ago when Kate visited. Both women walk away without a word, I'm not sure if to remain where I am or to follow. It's obvious I'm not required, and I've just been shelved by my mother and my newly generated girlfriend. I resume my place on the couch as my mother's laughter to Anastasia's soft chatter retreats further into the house.
Eighty minutes later Anastasia re-emerges, she is bubbly and comes bouncing towards me with a sway in her step.
"Aw, did you miss me?" she taunts.
"Is it that obvious," I retort mockingly looking up at her. "I'm guessing you two had a delightful conversation . . . . What did you talk about?"
She gives me a vehement gaze; "I've been sworn to secrecy, if I tell I'll have to kill you" Her tone is grim.
"I'm sure you would enjoy that."
"I might" she chimes biting her lip.
Unexpectedly, I find myself staring at the curves of her mouth and when the realization hits, I avert my eyes.
"It was all girl's talk; you wouldn't be interested. She asked Julianne to escort her to her room".
"She needs to take her medication and have dinner before she goes to bed," I look past her to the next room.
"It's okay we just had dinner . . . . the both of us" she points over her shoulder, " . . . Oh right, you weren't invited" she teases.
"You're enjoying this aren't you?" I cross my arms over my chest.
"Very much so, I told her you already had dinner and you weren't hungry, that you were tired, and we shouldn't bother you" She nods with a straight face.
"And she believed you?" I question lifting an eyebrow.
"Of course, you weren't there at the dinner table now, were you? I can be very convincing you know".
"This isn't funny; I didn't get you on board to throw a coup d'etat. Don't forget why you're doing this".
"Would you relax," she says exhausted dropping her hands to her sides, "You're so antagonistic, first of all, this whole thing wasn't your idea. Second, this isn't a coup d'etat. Third, if I must deal with you, I'm going to do whatever I can to amuse myself, even if it's at your expense. Fourth, I know why I'm doing this and I can see why you would want this too . . . . You're very lucky to have her".
The familiar sentiments of dismay and trepidation churn in my stomach. I'm not about to expose my awareness of my mother's state to Anastasia Steele. Just because Mother approves of her doesn't mean I have to. Currently, she's serving a fundamental purpose, making my mother happy and that's all I'm concerned about.
"I'm famished, thanks to you" I growl, "You will accompany me to dinner."
"Why? I'm not hungry," she whines softly. "Just take me home, I did my part here."
"Au contraire, the day isn't over. I need to eat, and you need to go over the contract . . . Ladies first" I gesture to her towards the front door.
. . . . . .
I close my eyes and allow my senses to slow down. The smell, the taste, the feel of it gliding along my tongue. There's a natural high connected to a good wine, it's equivalent to a triumphant victory.
"Very good," I commend.
The server tips the bottle pouring the wine skilfully into the glass. I take another sip to savor the vintage, Anastasia sits on the other side of the table with her eyes fixed on the document, gingerly floating her finger across each line. She takes a deep breath, shuts her eyes, and rakes her fingers through her hair.
"Do you approve?" I ask, realizing that she has completed her reading.
"Yes, I'm okay with this and I'll sign it, but it's a bit . . . fragmented".
"Everything we spoke about earlier is there."
"I know, but I feel like something's missing. Nice touch with the separation clause"
"I'd figure that's what you wanted."
"It is, maybe I'll find Mr Right after all of this."
I scoff at her unrealistic ideals, "One question did come to mind when we concluded our meeting. Do you have any current ambitions or desires?"
She rubs her hands together absentmindedly, "I do actually. One day I'd like to own my own business, a Pâtisserie. I have the perfect location; the building will be vacant in six weeks until then I'm saving what I can to purchase it and to have the start-up capital. If that doesn't work out, I'm aspiring to be the next Pastry Chef at the Sheraton. Why do you ask?"
"Just confirming, I was told you're interested in purchasing some property soon. It will make good small talk whenever we're out interacting with others, people will want to know the what, the when, and the how of our supposed relationship. Knowing what you're planning will make this more convincing".
"What about you? What are your aspirations?"
The server makes his presence known and quietly sets my plate down before me, Anastasia receives a small cappuccino. He finally nods to both of us and takes his leave. I take a moderate sip of wine and begin to slice into my steak.
"My aspirations are modest. One, I intend to ensure that my mother's journey is content and effortless. Two, I want to continue my father's work and stave off the people who are trying to seize it" I shovel a fork of mashed potatoes.
She sips her cup over a period then rests it back into the saucer when she's done. I feel her analytical gaze scrutinizing me, gauging my mood to put forward another question or comment.
"Your mother, your father, that's noble but. . ."
"But you shouldn't assume anything and don't try to read me" I pronounce composed, "My burdens are my own and I know why I carry them" I resume eating detached.
"I think I'll go now," she announces.
"Don't," I caution, "I took you from your home, and there I will return you" I finish the contents of my wine glass. "Thanks for coming with me; our next date should be. . ."
"This isn't a date, Christian, but you're welcome."
I'm about to pick up the bottle when her eyes follow me, I stop and glance momentarily.
"One more is okay," she permits.
I complete my meal with a second glass of wine, and I'm tempted to have a third, but I shove it to the back of my mind. I can't wait until I get home to continue . . . .