Reese awkwardly followed Mr. Grey through the sprawling open layout of the 15,200-square-foot luxury mansion. The home was nothing short of breathtaking, with every detail meticulously crafted to exude elegance and sophistication. The large infinity pool sparkled under the afternoon sun, its edge seemingly blending into the skyline beyond. A spacious car garage housed sleek, high-end vehicles, each one a testament to wealth and taste. The spa area, with its soft lighting and modern fixtures, invited relaxation, while the wrap-around balcony offered a panoramic view of the city, the twinkling lights just beginning to appear as dusk approached.
As they walked, Reese tried to focus on the details of the property, but it was hard to ignore the tension in the air. Mr. Grey's tone was bitter, almost as if the house, with all its luxury, had become a burden to him rather than a blessing. He spoke about the home with a mix of pride and resentment, often stopping in certain areas that seemed to hold particular significance for him. Reese couldn't help but wonder what memories were tied to those spots—were they happy moments now tainted by bitterness, or was it something else entirely?
When they reached the master bedroom, Mr. Grey paused, his eyes lingering on the opulent furnishings. Reese could sense there was more behind his gaze than just admiration for the decor. But before she could say anything, he continued the tour, his mood shifting back to that of a businessman eager to conclude the deal.
Finally, after what felt like a rushed overview of the property, they arrived back at the front door. Mr. Grey stopped, turning to face Reese with an expression that was difficult to read. His earlier enthusiasm—or what passed for it—had faded, replaced by a cold, detached demeanor.
"Well, that's all the time I have for you, Ms. Sutherlin," he said, his voice clipped and formal.
Reese was taken aback by the abruptness. "Oh," she responded, surprised. "I actually needed to discuss value with you. I can tell you've spent a lot of time on renovations and upgrades, so I definitely want to get your opinion on what you're thinking as far as listing price."
Mr. Grey's face remained impassive, but his eyes seemed to harden. "I'll let you decide that," he said firmly. "Just don't go under twenty million."
"Twenty million. Got it," Reese repeated, trying to maintain her professional demeanor despite the coldness in his tone. She forced a smile. "And how soon are you looking to sell?"
"As soon as possible," he replied, his tone growing even more impatient. "Like I said before, I'm on a tight schedule. Are we done here?" His hand moved toward the door, signaling that he was ready for her to leave.
Reese nodded, trying to keep her voice steady. "Yes, as long as you don't have anything else for me."
"Not at the moment," he said, already half turned away.
"Well, here's my business card with my office and cell number," she said, handing it to him with a practiced smile. "It was great to finally get to talk to you about the property. I think it's gorgeous, and it will sell fast. Let me know if you need anything—I'm here for you."
Mr. Grey took the card, glancing at it briefly before his eyes flicked back to hers. "Great," he said with a bitter edge to his voice. "Just what I need—another person saying they're here for me."
Reese opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, Mr. Grey shook his head, almost as if regretting his words. "I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice softening slightly. "I'll be in touch."
Without waiting for a reply, he opened the door, letting it swing shut behind her with a loud click. The sound echoed in Reese's ears, punctuating the end of the conversation with an unspoken command: Thank you for your time, but get off my property now.
Reese stood on the front steps for a moment, staring at the door in disbelief. Something had shifted during the tour, and it wasn't just Mr. Grey's mood. There were moments when he seemed almost human, showing glimpses of vulnerability or perhaps regret, but those moments were fleeting, quickly replaced by a cold, almost hostile exterior. She couldn't help but feel like there was something deeper going on, something he wasn't ready—or willing—to talk about.
She walked down the smoothly paved driveway to her car, her heels clicking against the stone with each step. As she reached her vehicle, she paused, taking a deep breath to collect her thoughts. This listing was going to be challenging, not just because of the property itself but because of the man who owned it. Mr. Grey was clearly dealing with more than just a sale, and it was affecting every interaction he had.
Reese slid into the driver's seat and pulled out her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen for a moment before she composed a quick text to Victor.
4:23 PM Reese: Just wrapped up at Melrose.
She waited, watching as the three dots appeared on the screen, indicating that Victor was typing.
4:27 PM Victor: And...
Reese sighed, knowing what Victor was expecting but unsure how to phrase the complexities of the situation in a few short words.
4:28 PM Reese: Doesn't want to sell under twenty and wants it sold ASAP.
4:28 PM Victor: Well let's start marketing and get it done.
Reese nodded to herself, feeling a little more grounded with the focus on work. It was easier to think about marketing strategies and listing prices than the strange tension she'd felt during the tour.
4:33 PM Reese: Okay, I'll have some ideas for you in the morning.
4:34 PM Victor: Sounds good.
The drive home was mercifully quick, a stark contrast to the agonizing crawl of traffic she'd faced on the way to the appointment. As she pulled into the underground parking of her condo building, the familiar sight of home brought a small measure of comfort. She walked into her quiet, dimly lit condo and headed straight to her home office, not bothering to change out of her work clothes.
Loki, was waiting for her at the door, rubbing against her legs as she moved through the space. "Hey, buddy," she murmured, bending down to scratch behind his ears. Loki purred in response, following her to the office and curling up under the table at her feet as she sat down to work.
Reese switched on her computer, the soft glow of the screen illuminating her face as she began gathering ideas to present to Victor in the morning. The Melrose property was stunning, and she was determined to come in strong with a listing price of thirty-two million, well above the twenty-million minimum Mr. Grey had mentioned. She knew it was ambitious, but the house had the potential to attract high-end buyers who would see its true value.
Her phone buzzed loudly on the desk, startling her out of her thoughts. She reached for it, expecting to see a message from Naomi checking in after the appointment, but instead, the screen displayed an unfamiliar number. She frowned, hesitating for a moment before unlocking the phone to read the message.
8:05 PM 3234933687: I wanted to apologize for both times we met today...
Reese blinked, her heart skipping a beat as she realized who the message was from. Christian Grey. For a moment, she'd forgotten that she had given him her personal cellphone number—a courtesy she extended to all her clients, though few ever used it. But here he was, reaching out to apologize. She wasn't sure what to make of it.
8:06 PM 3234933687: My pending divorce has left me emotionally unhinged.
Reese stared blankly at the text message, her mind racing. Mr. Grey's demeanor during the tour suddenly made more sense. His bitterness, his abruptness, the way he seemed to be holding something back—it all pointed to the turmoil of a man going through a painful divorce. The tension she'd felt wasn't just about the property; it was about the personal hell he was going through.
For a moment, Reese considered responding, but something held her back. She knew she had to maintain professional boundaries, and she didn't want to blur the lines between her role as his realtor and anything more personal. It was nice that he felt the need to apologize, but she hoped he hadn't taken her professional availability to mean anything beyond that.
Deciding to play it safe, Reese chose not to respond. Instead, she turned off her phone and spent the rest of the evening unwinding with a glass of wine and Netflix. As she sipped her wine, she couldn't help but think about the day's events. It had been emotionally draining, and the weight of it all settled on her shoulders like a heavy cloak.
The next morning, Reese knew she would need to put aside any lingering thoughts about Mr. Grey's personal life and focus on the task at hand: getting the Melrose property sold as quickly and efficiently as possible.