Reese slipped into her burgundy dress that accentuated her curves, the deep hue a striking contrast against her complexion. It was one of her favorite colors to wear during the fall; it made her feel confident and powerful. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and smiled, smoothing down the fabric. Today was going to be a long day, but at least she looked good. She only wished it hadn't started raining. She grabbed her umbrella, slipped on her heels, and hurried out the door. It was Monday morning, which meant Victor and Vincent would be raving about the brokerage not meeting its quota. That meant no time for spin class; she couldn't risk being late. If she walked in late, it would somehow become her fault that she hadn't followed through with the brokerage's largest listing yet.

Reese took shelter in her car in the office parking lot, watching the sheets of rain cascade down her windshield. The rain pounded relentlessly, creating a noisy, chaotic rhythm that matched her the thoughts racing through her mind. She checked the time—minutes from being late—but she didn't want to risk ruining her hair. It always took hours to straighten her thick, curly mane, and the last thing she needed was to walk in looking like a drowned rat.

Victor calling...

"Hello?" she answered, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Hey, Reese, are you thinking about coming in? I can see you waiting in your car," Victor's voice came through, laced with amusement.

"Oh, come on, Vic. You see it's pouring out here," she replied, glancing out at the sheets of rain.

"And? I had to walk in the rain... and look, here comes Amy across the parking lot. Get in here so we can start on time, please."

"Vic," Reese whined, "Can't you just put me on speaker phone?"

"Absolutely not," he chuckled. "Get in here! I can't keep showing you favoritism."

"Is this because I wouldn't sleep with you?" she teased, rolling her eyes.

"Reese," he said, his tone turning more serious. "You have two minutes."

"Ugh, fine. Bye." She hung up, tossing her phone onto the passenger seat.

Resigned, Reese grabbed her purse and umbrella and dashed through the rain, trying to avoid the deep puddles that had formed across the parking lot. She finally reached the door, slightly out of breath and with droplets clinging to her dress. She shot Victor a glare as she entered the office, brushing the raindrops off her shoulders.

"Glad everyone could make it on time," Victor said, flashing a smile at her, knowing full well she had no choice but to be there. "So, where are we this week on listings... Reese?"

"Well," she began, trying to mask her irritation, "There's Doheny, Hollywood Hills," she paused, flashing a quick look at Naomi, "and of course Melrose."

"And where are we with Melrose?" Vincent chimed in, leaning forward, his fingers steepled under his chin.

"Well, I'm planning on having the broker's open this Friday with a masquerade-auction event per the seller's request—"

"Any interested buyers yet or offers off-market?" Vincent interrupted, his expression expectant.

"Not yet," she cleared her throat, trying to maintain her composure. "I have two more private showings this week, so hopefully, that goes well."

"Yeah, hope so," he said with a half-smile, his tone laced with doubt. "Naomi, how did your open house go yesterday?"

"It was good," she stammered, clearly caught off guard. "Not a whole lot of traffic, but the potential buyers that came were very interested."

"That listing has been on the market, what... two months now?" Vincent said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Naomi sighed, glancing down at her notes.

"Well, I would contact the seller, see if we could come down on the price again. It's a great area and a great house, but the price might be the sticking point."

"Okay, will do," Naomi said quickly, jotting down notes.

Victor continued speaking, but Reese's attention was drawn to her phone vibrating on the table.

323-493-3687 Calling...

"Sorry," Reese whispered, silencing her phone.

Victor's eyes narrowed slightly as he continued, "As you all know, this is Reese's last week with us and—"

323-493-3687 Calling...

"Oh my gosh," Reese muttered, glancing at Victor apologetically. "I better take this," she said, getting up and quickly moving towards her office.

"Make it quick," Victor's voice followed her, firm and unforgiving.

She closed her office door behind her, taking a deep breath to steady herself before answering.

"What?" she snapped, her frustration evident.

"Ms. Sutherlin," came the familiar low, deep voice that sent a shiver down her spine. "How are you?"

"What do you need, Christian? I was in a meeting," she replied, her tone clipped.

"Didn't you tell me you were here for me anytime and for whatever I needed?" he teased, his voice smooth and irritatingly calm.

"I remember you rejecting that offer when you threw me out of your house last week," she shot back.

"I thought we were past that," he said, amusement coloring his voice. "I have a favor to ask."

Knock! Knock!

"What is it, Christian?" she demanded, impatiently tapping her foot.

"I have a friend coming into town, and she would like a private showing of the house," he said smoothly.

"Is this the same friend who ended your marriage?" she retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Knock! Knock!

"Ms. Sutherlin, I need you to be professional," he replied, his tone hardening. "Can you show the house or not?"

"Reese, it's Naomi," she called through the door, "There's a call for you on line 2."

"Ms. Sutherlin," Christian's voice was firm.

"Okay, yes, I'll do it," she replied sharply through clenched teeth.

"That's my girl," he replied with a smugness that made her skin crawl.

"I'm not your girl," she scoffed.

"Maybe not yet, but you will be mine, Ms. Sutherlin. Meet me at my house in an hour."

"Christian, I can't just leave my job whenever you want me to," she snapped.

"Why not? I'm one of the highest-profile clients your brokerage has ever had," he mocked. "I'm sure Victor and Vincent won't mind. One hour, Ms. Sutherlin. One hour." He hung up abruptly, leaving her staring at her phone in frustration.

"Ugh, I can't stand that man," Reese groaned, plopping back in her chair. "Naomi," she called through the door, "transfer the call."

She sat there, her mind racing. She didn't know why she allowed him to get under her skin, but he did. His arrogance, his confidence—it was infuriating. But there was something else. A challenge, perhaps? Or maybe it was the way he could so effortlessly command her attention, even when she didn't want to give it.

She sighed, rubbing her temples. She needed to get her head in the game. This was her last week, and she needed to finish strong. But with Christian Grey pulling her strings, she wasn't sure how she was going to make it through.