Grey (10 page)

“You're a sadist?” she says, startling me.

Fuck.
She sees me.

“I'm a Dominant,” I say quickly, hoping to move the conversation on.

“What does that mean?” she inquires, shocked, I think.

“It means I want you to willingly surrender yourself to me, in all things.”

“Why would I do that?”

“To please me,” I whisper.
This is what I need from you.
“In very simple terms, I want you to want to please me.”

“How do I do that?” she breathes.

“I have rules, and I want you to comply with them. They are for your benefit and for my pleasure. If you follow these rules to my satisfaction, I shall reward you. If you don't, I shall punish you, and you will learn.”

And I can't wait to train you. In every way.

She stares at the canes behind the bench. “And where does all this fit in?” She waves at her surroundings.

“It's all part of the incentive package. Both reward and punishment.”

“So you'll get your kicks by exerting your will over me.”

Spot on, Miss Steele.

“It's about gaining your trust and your respect, so you'll let me exert my will over you.”
I need your permission, baby.
“I will gain a great deal of pleasure, joy even, in your submission. The more you submit, the greater my joy—it's a very simple equation.”

“Okay, and what do I get out of this?”

“Me.” I shrug.
That's it, baby. Just me. All of me. And you'll find pleasure, too…

Her eyes widen fractionally as she stares at me, saying nothing. It's exasperating. “You're not giving anything away, Anastasia. Let's go back downstairs where I can concentrate better. It's very distracting having you in here.”

I hold out my hand to her and for the first time she looks from my hand to my face, undecided.

Shit.

I've frightened her. “I'm not going to hurt you, Anastasia.”

Tentatively she puts her hand in mine. I'm elated. She hasn't run.

Relieved, I decide to show her the submissive's bedroom.

“If you do this, let me show you.” I lead her down the corridor. “This will be your room. You can decorate it how you like, have whatever you like in here.”

“My room? You're expecting me to move in?” she squeaks in disbelief.

Okay.
Maybe I should have left this until later.

“Not full-time,” I reassure her. “Just, say, Friday evening through Sunday. We have to talk about all that. Negotiate. If you want to do this.”

“I'll sleep here?”

“Yes.”

“Not with you.”

“No. I told you, I don't sleep with anyone, except you when you're stupefied with drink.”

“Where do you sleep?”

“My room is downstairs. Come, you must be hungry.”

“Weirdly, I seem to have lost my appetite,” she declares, with her familiar stubborn expression.

“You must eat, Anastasia.”

Her eating habits will be one of the first issues I'll work on if she agrees to be mine…that, and her fidgeting.

Stop getting ahead of yourself, Grey!

“I'm fully aware that this is a dark path I'm leading you down, Anastasia, which is why I really want you to think about this.”

She follows me downstairs into the living room once more. “You must have some questions. You've signed your NDA; you can ask me anything you want and I'll answer.”

If this is going to work, she's going to have to communicate. In the kitchen I open the fridge and find a large plate of cheese and some grapes. Gail wasn't expecting me to have company, and this is not enough…I wonder if I should order some takeout. Or perhaps take her out?

Like a date.

Another date.

I don't want to raise expectations like that.

I don't do dates.

Only with her…

The thought is irritating. There's a fresh baguette in the bread basket. Bread and cheese will have to do. Besides, she says she's not hungry.

“Sit.” I point to one of the barstools and Ana sits down and gives me a level gaze.

“You mentioned paperwork,” she says.

“Yes.”

“What paperwork?”

“Well, apart from the NDA, a contract saying what we will and
won't do. I need to know your limits, and you need to know mine. This is consensual, Anastasia.”

“And if I don't want to do this?”

Shit.

“That's fine,” I lie.

“But we won't have any sort of relationship?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“This is the only sort of relationship I'm interested in.”

“Why?”

“It's the way I am.”

“How did you become this way?”

“Why is anyone the way they are? That's kind of hard to answer. Why do some people like cheese and other people hate it? Do you like cheese? Mrs. Jones—my housekeeper—has left this for a late supper.” I place the plate in front of her.

“What are your rules that I have to follow?”

“I have them written down. We'll go through them once we've eaten.”

“I'm really not hungry,” she whispers.

“You will eat.”

The look she gives me is defiant.

“Would you like another glass of wine?” I ask, as a peace offering.

“Yes, please.”

I pour wine into her glass and sit down beside her. “Help yourself to food, Anastasia.”

She takes a few grapes.

That's it? That's all you're eating?

“Have you been like this for a while?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Is it easy to find women who want to do this?”

Oh, if you only knew.
“You'd be amazed.” My tone is wry.

“Then why me? I really don't understand.” She's utterly bemused.

Baby, you're beautiful. Why wouldn't I want to do this with you?

“Anastasia, I've told you. There's something about you. I can't leave you alone. I'm like a moth to a flame. I want you very badly, especially now, when you're biting your lip again.”

“I think you have that cliché the wrong way around,” she says softly, and it's a disturbing confession.

“Eat!” I order, to change the subject.

“No. I haven't signed anything yet, so I think I'll hang on to my free will for a bit longer, if that's okay with you.”

Oh…
her smart mouth.

“As you wish, Miss Steele.” And I hide my smirk.

“How many women?” she asks, and she pops a grape into that mouth.

“Fifteen.” I have to look away.

“For long periods of time?”

“Some of them, yes.”

“Have you ever hurt anyone?”

“Yes.”

“Badly?”

“No.” Dawn was fine, if a little shaken by the experience. And if I'm honest, so was I.

“Will you hurt me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Physically, will you hurt me?”

Only what you can take.

“I will punish you when you require it, and it will be painful.”

For example, when you get drunk and put yourself at risk.

“Have you ever been beaten?” she asks.

“Yes.”

Many, many times. Elena was devilishly handy with a cane. It's the only touch I could tolerate.

Her eyes widen and she puts the uneaten grapes on her plate and takes another sip of wine. Her lack of appetite is irritating and is affecting mine. Perhaps I should just bite the bullet and show her the rules.

“Let's discuss this in my study. I want to show you something.”

She follows me and sits in the leather chair in front of my desk as I lean against it, arms folded.

This is what she wants to know. It's a blessing that she's curious—she hasn't run yet. From the contract laid out on my desk I take one of the pages and hand it to her. “These are the rules. They may be subject to change. They form part of the contract, which you can also have. Read these rules and let's discuss.”

Her eyes scan the page. “Hard limits?” she asks.

“Yes. What you won't do, what I won't do, we need to specify in our agreement.”

“I'm not sure about accepting money for clothes. It feels wrong.”

“I want to lavish money on you. Let me buy you some clothes. I may need you to accompany me to functions.”

Grey, what are you saying?
This would be a first. “And I want you dressed well. I'm sure your salary, when you do get a job, won't cover the kind of clothes I'd like you to wear.”

“I don't have to wear them when I'm not with you?”

“No.”

“Okay. I don't want to exercise four times a week.”

“Anastasia, I need you supple, strong, and with stamina. Trust me, you need to exercise.”

“But surely not four times a week. How about three?”

“I want you to do four.”

“I thought this was a negotiation?”

Again, she's disarming, calling me out on my shit. “Okay, Miss Steele, another point well made. How about an hour on three days and one day half an hour?”

“Three days, three hours. I get the impression you're going to keep me exercised when I'm here.”

Oh, I hope so.

“Yes, I am. Okay, agreed. Are you sure you don't want to intern at my company? You're a good negotiator.”

“No, I don't think that's a good idea.”

Of course she's right. And it's my number-one rule: never fuck the staff.

“So, limits. These are mine.” I hand her the list.

This is it, shit-or-bust time. I know my limits by heart, and mentally tick off the list as I watch her read through. Her face grows paler and paler as she nears the end.

Fuck, I hope this isn't frightening her off.

I want her. I want her submission…badly. She swallows, glancing nervously up at me.
How can I persuade her to give this a try?
I should reassure her, show her that I'm capable of caring.

“Is there anything you'd like to add?”

Deep down I hope she won't add anything. I want carte blanche with her. She stares at me, still at a loss for words. It's irritating. I'm not used to waiting for answers. “Is there anything you won't do?” I prompt.

“I don't know.”

Not the response I was expecting.

“What do you mean you don't know?”

She shifts in her seat, looking uncomfortable, her teeth toying with her bottom lip.
Again.
“I've never done anything like this.”

Hell, of course she hasn't.

Patience, Grey. For fuck's sake. You've thrown a great deal of information at her.
I continue my gentle approach. It's novel.

“Well, when you've had sex, was there anything that you didn't like doing?” And I'm reminded of the photographer fumbling all over her yesterday.

She flushes and my interest is piqued. What has she done that she didn't like? Is she adventurous in bed? She seems so—innocent. Normally I don't find that attractive.

“You can tell me, Anastasia. We have to be honest with each other or this isn't going to work.” I really have to encourage her to loosen up—she won't even talk about sex. She's squirming again and staring at her fingers.

Come on, Ana.

“Tell me,” I order.
Sweet Lord, she's frustrating.

“Well, I've not had sex before, so I don't know,” she whispers.

The earth stops spinning.

I don't fucking believe it.

How?

Why?

Fuck!

“Never?” I'm incredulous.

She shakes her head, eyes wide.

“You're a virgin?” I don't believe it.

She nods, embarrassed. I close my eyes. I can't look at her.

How the hell did I get this so wrong?

Anger lances through me.
What can I do with a virgin?
I glare at her as fury surges through my body.

“Why the fuck didn't you tell me?” I growl, and start pacing my study.
What do I want with a virgin?
She shrugs apologetically, at a loss for words.

“I don't understand why you didn't tell me.” The exasperation is clear in my voice.

“The subject never came up,” she says. “I'm not in the habit of revealing my sexual status to everyone I meet. I mean, we hardly know each other.”

As ever, it's a fair point. I can't believe I've given her the bus tour of my playroom—thank heavens for the NDA.

“Well, you know a lot more about me now,” I snarl. “I knew you were inexperienced, but a
virgin
! Hell, Ana, I just showed you…”

Not only the playroom: my rules, hard limits. She knows nothing. How could I do this? “May God forgive me,” I mutter under my breath. I'm at a loss.

A startling thought occurs to me—our one kiss in the elevator, where I could have fucked her there and then—was that her first kiss?

“Have you ever been kissed, apart from by me?” Please say yes.

“Of course I have.” She looks offended. Yeah, she's been kissed, but not often. And for some reason the thought is…pleasing.

“And a nice young man hasn't swept you off your feet? I just don't understand. You're twenty-one, nearly twenty-two. You're beautiful.” Why hasn't some guy taken her to bed?

Shit,
maybe she's religious. No, Welch would have uncovered
that. She gazes down at her fingers, and I think she's smiling. She thinks this is funny? I could kick myself. “And you're seriously discussing what I want to do, when you have no experience.”

Words fail me. How can this be?