Chapters of Trust
by
Ava LeBeau
Three
The sleek, modern office of Christian Grey was a testament to his success—floor-to-ceiling windows framed a breathtaking view of Seattle's skyline, the Space Needle piercing the sky like an arrow. The minimalist decor reflected his pedantic nature, every piece chosen for its elegance and functionality. As he sipped his espresso, the rich aroma filled the air, grounding him in the moment.
Andrea, his assistant, entered with a small envelope in hand. "Mr. Grey," she said, her tone professional yet slightly hesitant. "You have an invitation."
Christian raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. He set down his cup and took the envelope from her. It was unassuming—simple cream paper with a whimsical illustration of a small dog named Max on the front. Max, as he assumed, was apparently Anastasia Steele's pet.
He couldn't suppress a slight curl of his lip at the sight. Dogs? Messy creatures that left fur everywhere and required constant attention. He had no patience for such distractions in his carefully curated life.
"Is this really necessary?" he sighed, glancing up at Andrea with a hint of disdain.
"It's for a community event. At Ms. Steele's bookshop, Sir," she replied, trying to gauge his reaction.
Christian opened the envelope and pulled out a handwritten note. The penmanship was decent but, to his great disappointment, lacked any flair—no fountain pen elegance or sophistication that he preferred. Instead, it felt casual and almost juvenile. He could practically hear Steele's voice in his head: "Let's bring the community together!"
He scoffed internally at her old-fashioned ideals. Did she really think that hosting events would save her tatty shop? He had plans for this quarter—grand visions that didn't include Steele's little bookstore cluttering up the landscape.
As Christian read through the details of the event—a gathering meant to foster community spirit—he found himself musing over whether he should attend or simply send a polite decline. After all, mingling with locals wasn't exactly on his agenda; clearly, he had bigger fish to fry.
Yet there was something about it that piqued his interest—a chance to assess not just Anastasia Steele's business but also the community dynamics surrounding his investment. Perhaps it would be beneficial to see firsthand what kind of people frequented her shop and how they might react to changes in their neighborhood.
With a resigned sigh, he leaned back in his chair, contemplating the implications of attending this event. He drummed his fingers lightly on the polished surface of his desk as he weighed his options. The thought of stepping into Ana Steele's world—a world filled with quirky charm and a certain disheveled warmth—was not exactly appealing. Yet, the strategic part of his mind recognized the value in understanding the community he was about to reshape.
Christian approached the glass front and gazed out the window, watching pedestrians stroll along the street below. A lively scene was unfolding beneath him but the insulated glass muted their voices, leaving him in silence. The towering GEH building loomed above them, a constant reminder of his position within its sterile confines. Their carefree interactions felt worlds apart from the meticulously controlled atmosphere of his office, where every detail was engineered for efficiency and precision.
In that moment, Christian couldn't help but wonder what kind of people frequented Anastasia Steele's bookshop. Were they the type who would resist change? Or perhaps they were open-minded enough to embrace new possibilities?
"Mr. Grey?" Andrea's voice broke through his reverie, pulling him back to reality.
"Yes?" he replied absent-mindedly, still staring out at the bustling street below.
"Are you planning to attend?" she asked, her tone neutral but curious.
He turned his gaze back to the invitation, studying it as if it held some hidden truth about Anastasia Steele and her little shop. "I suppose I should," he said finally, a hint of reluctance lacing his words. "It wouldn't hurt to assess the situation firsthand."
Andrea nodded, making a note on her tablet. "Shall I arrange for transportation?"
"No need," he replied curtly, already envisioning himself driving over in one of his beloved cars. "I'll take care of it."
"Of course," she replied, tapping away at her device. "How long do you intend to stay?"
"Just a short visit," Christian said curtly, already envisioning how he would make his exit once he had gathered enough information. He had no intention of lingering in that cozy atmosphere longer than necessary.
As Andrea left the room to finalize arrangements, Christian took another sip of his espresso, savoring its subtle bitterness while contemplating what awaited him at this community event.
He imagined walking into that bookshop—its shelves lined with well-loved volumes—and encountering Anastasia Steele herself. Would she be wearing that same endearing smile that had somehow managed to irritate him and intrigue him all at once?
Grey shook his head slightly, trying to dispel any thoughts that veered too close to personal interest. This was business; nothing more. He had no intention of getting drawn into her whimsical world or her idealistic notions about community and connection.
Yet as he prepared for the evening ahead, he couldn't shake off a sense of curiosity mixed with annoyance. What would it be like to see how she interacted with her customers? Would they fawn over her like some literary goddess? The very idea made him grimace slightly.
After giving the invitation one last glance—Max's goofy face staring back at him—Christian folded the note and set it aside, redirecting his full attention to one of the latest reports on his upcoming projects.
The late afternoon light cast a warm glow over Anastasia's cluttered workspace. She had just finished sorting through a stack of letters and bills when she noticed an envelope that stood out among the rest. It was sleek and silvery gray, sealed with what seemed to be a wax emblem, that sent a shiver down her spine.
With a reluctant sigh, she picked it up, recognizing the unmistakable name scrawled across the front:
Christian Grey.
Her stomach twisted at the thought of him—his arrogance, his smug confidence, those piercing steely gray eyes—but as she carefully opened the envelope, Ana couldn't help but feel a flicker of curiosity.
Inside lay a finely crafted business card, its surface smooth and glossy. The design was minimalist yet striking, featuring an embossed image of Grey Enterprises' towering glass building—a monolith of modern architecture that seemed to loom over everything else in the city. Beneath it, his name was printed in bold letters, accompanied by his title: CEO.
Alongside the card was a small note written on crisp stationery. Ana's heart raced as she unfolded it, revealing elegant handwriting that flowed effortlessly across the page. "Thank you for your invitation," it read simply. "I would be delighted to accept." The words were penned with a fountain pen, the ink glistening slightly as if he had taken great care to craft not just the message but also the experience of reading it.
"Of course he would send something like this," she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes as she examined both items more closely. The card exuded an air of superiority that matched Grey's persona perfectly, while the note felt almost intimate in its execution.
"Why does it matter?" Anastasia chided herself, shaking her head as if to dispel any intrigue that threatened to creep in. "It's just a business card and a note."
But there was something about them—the meticulous detail in the design and the graceful strokes of his handwriting—that drew her in against her better judgment; to her, even the font choice seemed deliberate and refined. She could almost picture him sitting in his pristine office, fountain pen between his perfectly manicured fingers, crafting this card with an air of haughty self-importance.
Ana clenched her jaw, forcing herself to focus on the words rather than their presentation. "I despise him," she reminded herself firmly. "This doesn't change anything."
Yet as she held both items in her hands—the sharp edges of the card and the smooth texture of the note—she felt an unwelcome flutter of intrigue stir within her. Anastasia quickly set them aside, trying to ignore how they made her heart race at the thought of him accepting her invitation.
"Get a grip," she whispered under her breath, tossing the envelope aside as if it were on fire. But even as she turned back to her work, the note lingered in her mind, its elegant script and the promise of his presence gnawing at her thoughts.
Anastasia tried to focus on the tasks at hand—organizing files, responding to emails—but every time she glanced at the envelope, a mix of annoyance and anticipation bubbled within her. Why did it matter so much that Christian Grey had accepted? She had invited him out of self-interest, not desire or maybe even obligation. Yet here she was, heart racing at the thought of seeing him again.
With a sigh, Ana picked up the note once more, tracing her fingers over the smooth paper. It was almost absurd how something so simple could evoke such a strong reaction in her.
'Thank you for your invitation. I would be delighted to accept.' The words echoed in her mind, and she couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more behind them than mere politeness. Christian Grey didn't do anything without purpose; every action was calculated, every word chosen carefully.
As she set the note down again, Ana felt a mixture of dread and excitement wash over her. What would it be like to have him there? Would he be charming or just his usual insufferable self? Would he glower at her with that piercing gaze that made her feel both exposed and exhilarated?
The clock ticked steadily on the wall, reminding her that time was slipping away. She needed to prepare—not just for the event itself but for whatever encounter awaited her with Christian Grey.
Taking a deep breath, Ana stood up from her desk and walked over to the mirror hanging on the wall. She studied herself for a moment, running a hand through her hair and adjusting her blouse. "You can handle this," she told herself firmly. "It's just one evening. And all your friends are gonna be there."
But as she returned to her desk and glanced at the note one last time, she couldn't help but wonder what kind of game Grey was playing—and whether she was ready to play along.
Christian's mind was still racing with thoughts of strategy and assessment as he stood up, smoothing the tailored lines of his suit jacket, a habitual gesture that grounded him in his polished persona.
As he made his way to the elevator, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of irritation mixed with anticipation. The thought of stepping into Anastasia Steele's little world was both an annoyance and a challenge. But hadn't he always thrived on challenges, after all?
The elevator doors slid open, and he stepped inside, pressing the button for the ground floor. As the doors closed, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the polished metal—chiseled, undeniably handsome features, piercing gray eyes that held a hint of determination. He was Christian Grey; he didn't do quaint or messy. Yet here he was, preparing to enter a space that embodied both.
Arriving at the bookshop a little while later, Christian parked his car a short distance away and took a moment to gather himself. The storefront was adorned with twinkling lights and colorful banners announcing the event. A small crowd had already gathered outside, their chatter filling the air with an energy that felt foreign to him.
Christian stepped out of the supercar and adjusted his cufflinks, taking a deep breath as he approached the entrance. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted towards him, mingling with something sweet—perhaps pastries? It was oddly inviting.
Running a hand through his hair, Christian tried to mask the frustration that lingered and as he opened the door, a small bell chimed overhead, announcing his arrival.
The interior was warm and cozy as it had been last time, filled with shelves brimming with books and people animatedly discussing titles and authors.
Christian scanned the room, feeling a flicker of satisfaction when he spotted Anastasia Steele behind the counter that served as a bar tonight. She was engaged with a group of customers, seemingly engrossed in conversation, her back turned to him as she poured drinks and exchanged pleasantries, her hair cascading over her shoulders. For a brief moment, he found himself captivated by her enthusiasm—the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke about literature. But just as quickly as it came, that intrigue was replaced by annoyance at how easily she seemed to connect with everyone around her.
With a slight curl of his lip betraying his distaste for this whole affair, Christian stepped further inside.
He would assess this community carefully; he would make sure to understand its dynamics—but he would do so on his own terms.
So far, she hadn't noticed him, even though he was dressed to the nines, standing out like a sore thumb in the crowd. Good, he thought with a wry grin. Let her think she's in control tonight. He wasn't ready for her to see him just yet; in fact, he preferred it that way.
Slipping into a quieter, dimly lit corner of the room, Christian watched as more guests began to settle into their seats. The lights dimmed slightly, signaling that it wouldn't be long before Steele would take the stage.
He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, disdain creeping into his expression as he observed her preparing for her speech. There she was—so confident and self-assured—like she had everything figured out. But tonight would be different, so different. He would make sure of that.
As Ana glanced at the clock and straightened up to address the crowd, Christian felt a surge of anticipation mixed with defiance. This was his chance to surprise her and reclaim some, no, even more power in their dynamic. With a smirk playing on his lips he took his seat, steeling himself for what was soon about to unfold.
It was then that Max, the exuberant little dog and mascot of the event, bounded toward him with uncontainable enthusiasm, tail wagging like a tiny flag. Christian's eyes widened in mild horror as he glanced down at the furry creature, realizing that this was not the moment he wanted to attract attention.
"Not now," he muttered under his breath, attempting to ignore the dog while maintaining his low profile. But Max had other ideas, darting back and forth like a playful shadow, clearly determined to engage.
Christian sighed quietly, trying to keep his composure as he bent down slightly in an attempt to shoo Max away without making a scene. "Come on, buddy," he whispered urgently. "You're going to ruin my suit."
Max responded by jumping up excitedly, paws landing squarely on Christian's polished shoe. The little dog seemed oblivious to the expensive craftsmanship beneath him and instead focused on licking Christian's ankle with unabashed glee.
"Great," Christian thought dryly, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed this comical struggle. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as he tried to maintain an air of sophistication while wrestling with a small dog who had no respect for personal space or high fashion.
With each attempt to push Max away gently, the dog only became more animated—bounding back for another round of playful pounces. Christian found himself in a ridiculous choreography: shift left, dodge right, all while trying not to draw attention from the gathering crowd.
Just then, Ana stepped up onto the makeshift stage at the front of the room, her voice ringing out as she prepared to start her speech. Christian caught sight of her and felt a flicker of relief; perhaps she would be too engrossed in her presentation to notice him struggling with her enthusiastic pet.
But just as Ana began speaking, Max decided it was time for one final leap—right onto Christian's lap. The sudden weight caught him off guard, and he let out an involuntary grunt as he fumbled to catch the little dog before it could leave its mark on his suit.
"Seriously?" he whispered in exasperation as Max settled comfortably against him, blissfully unaware of the chaos of the situation. Christian glanced around, hoping no one had noticed his struggle, but he could feel the eyes of a few guests drifting in his direction.
"Thank you all for being here tonight," she began, her voice slightly trembling but growing stronger with each word. "I know we're all concerned about the recent news regarding our neighborhood and what it means for our beloved community." Anastasia's voice floated over the crowd, her words filled with determination and purpose, completely oblivious to the spectacle unfolding just a few feet away.
Meanwhile, Max had made himself quite comfortable, curling up on Christian's lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The little dog let out a contented sigh, completely at ease while Christian was anything but.
"Okay, buddy," he whispered under his breath, trying to maintain his composure. "This is not how I envisioned my evening." Gritting his teeth, Christian attempted to gently nudge Max off his lap, but the dog merely shifted slightly and looked up at him with those big, innocent eyes that seemed to say, 'Why would I ever leave this cozy spot?'
Christian sighed again, feeling a mix of amusement and frustration. He could practically hear the laughter of Elliot and Mia echoing in his mind—this was exactly the kind of absurdity they would find hilarious.
As Anastasia continued her speech, she glanced down at her notes but quickly decided to speak from the heart instead. "As many of you know, I've owned The Enchanted Page for over five years now. It's not just a bookstore; it's a sanctuary for readers, writers, and dreamers. It's where children discover the magic of stories, where friends gather for book clubs, and where we celebrate local authors."
Christian couldn't deny that she had a way of captivating her audience, but he found himself mentally critiquing her every point, wondering how he could streamline this whole operation. Torn between wanting to finally make himself heard and wanting to escape this increasingly ridiculous predicament Max was putting him in, he tried shifting in his seat subtly, hoping to dislodge Max, who seemed to be growing heavier in his lap by the minute, without causing a scene.
But Max was having none of it. With each slight movement from Christian, the dog adjusted himself like a stubborn pillow refusing to be fluffed. It was as if Max had taken it upon himself to ensure that Christian remained firmly anchored in place.
"Just my luck," Christian muttered quietly to himself while a murmur of agreement with what Anastasia had just said rippled through the crowd. "I'm going to be known as 'the guy who got taken hostage by some scraggly ankle-biter.'"
Just as he was about to zone out completely, simply resigning himself to his fate after what felt like an eternity of balancing dignity with canine chaos, Anastasia's voice jerked Christian out of his musings.
"But now," she continued, "with the sale of our building to Mr. Christian Grey—a businessman known more for his cutthroat tactics than his community spirit—we face an uncertain future." She paused to let her words sink in and Christian sat up straight, causing Max to let out a low noise of protest. Christian's hand came to rest on the little dog's head, patting it once, twice, but his gaze was fixated on her, Ana. "Gentrification is not just a buzzword; it's a reality that threatens everything we hold dear in this neighborhood."
Anastasia paced slightly behind the podium, her passion igniting as she spoke. "Gentrification often brings shiny new developments and higher property values, but it also leads to displacement—displacement of families who have lived here for generations and small businesses like mine that can't keep up with skyrocketing rents."
Anastasia locked eyes with several attendees in the front row—an elderly couple who had frequented her shop since its opening and a young mother who brought her children in every week. "We risk losing our cultural identity," she said firmly. "Our neighborhood is rich with history and diversity; it's what makes this neighborhood special, it's what makes this neighborhood strong."
Anastasia's words hung in the air, charged with emotion. Christian could feel the weight of the room's attention, and for a moment, he wondered if Steele allowed herself to hope that her message was resonating. Christian knew that now was time to speak up and he seized the moment to carefully lift Max off his lap and set him down on the floor.
Max looked up at him with an expression that seemed almost offended by this sudden change in status. But before the little dog could make another leap for Christian's attention, giving several yelps, Anastasia noticed him, Christian Grey, still sitting at the back of the room, arms crossed and an inscrutable expression on his face.
He'd drawn all the attention to himself with the help of shaggy Max. But he didn't need the spotlight, feeling perfectly comfortable where he was in the dimly lit corner of the room and, best of all, he could almost feel the ripple of tension his presence sent through Anastasia.
"Mr. Grey," she said, the shock apparent on her face, her faint voice, however, steadying as she addressed him directly. "You may see this as just another investment opportunity, but for us, it's our home." For a moment her voice sounded choked, "It's our community."
A/N: Thank you so much for all your favs and follows, the reviews made me smile and laugh. Guess I came back to wake you up before September ends. I hope you like the new one. Christian is such a piece of work, don't you think? Guess he needs to spend more time with Max… and Ana. As always, I love hearing from you. Let me know what you think. x