Reese danced around her kitchen, her hips swaying to the beat of "Love is a Battlefield," her favorite 80s anthem. She sang along, her voice slightly off-key, but she didn't care. This was her sanctuary, her moment of freedom. Loki watched her with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, his green eyes following her every move. The aroma of chicken marsala simmering on the stove mingled with the sweet scent of the wine sabayon she was preparing, fresh berries ready to be folded in. It was her favorite comfort food, perfect for a night in.

Christian Grey had flaked on her again, leaving her with an empty schedule and a restless mind. She had spent the afternoon deep diving into the world of BDSM, trying to understand the enigmatic man she had been dealing with. Dominance and submission—D/s, as it was commonly referred to—seemed to be his particular preference. She should have guessed it; his controlling nature, his need to dominate every conversation, every encounter. It all made sense now.

Her search history was filled with terms that were previously foreign to her: bondage, discipline, role-playing, pet play. The list seemed endless, each more provocative and overwhelming than the last. The images that flashed on her screen were a far cry from her usual real estate listings. Submissive women, bound and blindfolded, men with fierce expressions holding whips and chains. She felt a flush of heat rising to her cheeks as she clicked through them, a strange mix of curiosity and discomfort settling in her stomach.

Needing a break, Reese decided it was time to eat. She set her dinner on the sleek marble dining table, the dim glow from her pendant lights casting soft shadows across the room. Loki meowed softly from his spot on the windowsill, his tail flicking back and forth lazily. "At least you're not a flake," she muttered, taking a sip of her wine. Eating alone was becoming a tiresome routine, but at least she had Loki for company.

Just as she was about to take another bite, the doorbell rang, echoing through the spacious condo. "Ding! Dong!" She glanced over at Loki, who perked up his ears. "Are you expecting someone?" she joked, pushing back her chair. As she made her way to the door, she felt a strange sense of déjà vu.

"Who is it?" she called out, her voice carrying a hint of caution.

"It's Christian," came the familiar voice from the other side of the door.

A chill ran down her spine. She hesitated for a moment, memories of her research flashing through her mind. But curiosity got the better of her. She opened the door to find Christian standing there, soaked from the rain. His gray crew neck sweater clung to his muscular frame, and his blue jeans were dark with moisture. His usually perfectly styled hair was now tousled and dripping.

"Christian, what are you doing here?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'm here for our meeting," he said with a warm smile, though there was a hint of something more in his eyes—something mischievous.

"Our meeting was supposed to be between 10 and 2," she replied, her tone sharp. "It's six. I'm not available anymore."

Christian glanced over her shoulder, taking in the sight of her empty apartment. "You look available to me," he smirked, his eyes gleaming.

"Looks can be deceiving," she snapped, her patience wearing thin.

"Ms. Sutherlin," he began, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a low, commanding tone. "Are you catching an attitude with me?"

"I don't have an attitude," she sighed, trying to keep her composure. "I'm just... annoyed."

"Are you too annoyed to discuss business?" he pressed, his eyes never leaving hers.

Reese hesitated for a moment before stepping aside, opening the door wider to let him in. "Fine," she said, "but make it quick."

Christian strode in, his eyes scanning her living space as she rushed to clear the remnants of her dinner from the table and turn down the music. "Nice place," he commented, as she handed him a towel from cupboard in the hall to sit on before settling onto her couch.

"I do okay," she replied walking back towards the kitchen, to pour him a glass of wine. "Would you like a glass?"

"Sure," he said, watching her every move. "Whatever you have is fine. I don't know much about wine."

She handed him the glass and sat down across from him, crossing her legs. "So, what were some of the ideas you had for the masquerade event?" she asked, trying to steer the conversation back to business.

He took a sip of the wine, then leaned forward, his expression serious. "I was thinking we could market the playroom more prominently," he started, but she cut him off.

"I don't think that should be the main focus," she countered.

Christian raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her interruption. "Do you want to hear my idea?" he asked, his tone challenging.

"Please, continue," she said, rolling her eyes.

He leaned back, his fingers tapping against the glass. "How about a Halloween masquerade party? That way, I can arrange a VIP viewing of the playroom. People will be in costume, no one will feel embarrassed, and they can explore some hidden desires," he suggested, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

Reese felt a flush creep up her neck. She placed her glass down on the table, her mind racing. "I don't have a month to sell your house, Christian," she said, her voice tinged with frustration. "Next week is my last week."

He looked genuinely surprised. "That's... unexpected."

"Sorry," she said softly, "but we have two private showings this coming week, and I planned the masquerade for Friday night."

"That's not going to work," he interrupted, his voice firm.

She bristled at his tone. "You said you needed the house sold immediately. I've been trying to get it on the market, but your tight schedule doesn't seem so tight," she shot back.

"I had a lot of distractions last week," he admitted, his voice softer now.

She sighed, leaning back in her chair. "I get it. Life happens. But Naomi will be taking over my position, and—"

"No," he cut her off sharply. "That's not going to work for me."

Reese felt a flicker of irritation. "Well, Christian, I don't know what you want me to do," she said, throwing her hands up.

He leaned forward, his gaze intense. "I want you to stay. Just a month. I promise, you'll have my undivided attention."

"And what am I supposed to do with that?" she scoffed. "Just drop everything because you've decided to be focused now?"

"Yes," he said simply.

She shook her head, laughing incredulously. "No, Christian. It doesn't work that way. You can't just waltz in here and make demands without a proper discussion and expect me to bend to your will."

"Why not? You said whatever I need right" he challenged, his voice low, almost a growl.

"Yes—but no...I have a life!" she snapped. "I have other clients, other responsibilities. I can't wait around for you to make up your mind. You've been my only focus lately trying to market, list and sell this house and it's been challenging and exhausting to—

He stood up suddenly, interrupting her sentence with his intense stare moving towards her. "Where are you going?" he demanded, his tone sharp. "I'll take my business wherever you're going."

She stared at him, stunned. "You can't just follow me to a new agency," she said, exasperated. "The logistics wouldn't be good for Redwood and Vincent and Victor are decent people. I wouldn't do that to them. Do you even want to sell this house?"

"Yes," he replied, his voice firm.

"Then act like it!" she shot back. "I can't generate buzz for a house if we're waiting a month to do anything. It'll go stale."

He ran a hand through his wet hair, frustration clear on his face. "Fine, we'll do it your way," he muttered.

"Good," she replied, her tone icy. "I am the professional, after all."

His eyes darkened, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yes, you are," he murmured, his gaze never leaving hers.

She felt a shiver run down her spine. "What?" she asked, suddenly feeling nervous under his intense stare.

"Nothing," he said softly, stepping closer to her. "Just... thinking."

"About what?" she whispered, her breath hitching in her throat.

He leaned down, his face inches from hers. "About how much I want you," he confessed, his voice barely more than a whisper, "You're drive...your determination...your stubbornness — it's a turn on."

Her heart skipped a beat. "Christian..."

"Is that a surprise?" he asked, his lips brushing against her ear.

She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. "I just... I just want to do my job," she managed to say.

"Is that all you want?" he asked, his hand gently cupping her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.

"Yes," she whispered, though her body betrayed her, leaning into his touch.

He studied her for a moment, his eyes searching hers. "I don't believe you," he said finally, a smile playing on his lips. "But I'll respect your boundaries, for now."

He pulled back, leaving her feeling suddenly cold. "Thank you for the meeting, Ms. Sutherlin," he said, his voice back to its usual confident tone. "I look forward to working closely with you this week."

And with that, he turned on his heel and headed for the door. "I'll let myself out," he called over his shoulder, leaving her standing there, breathless and confused.