Grey (32 page)

SUNDAY, MAY 29, 2011

W
ith the Rolling Stones' “Shake Your Hips” blasting in my ears, I sprint down Fourth Avenue and turn right on Vine. It's 6:45 in the morning, and it's downhill all the way…to her apartment. I'm drawn; I just want to see where she lives.

It's between control freak and stalker.

I chuckle to myself. I'm just running. It's a free country.

The apartment block is a nondescript redbrick, with dark green painted window frames typical of the area. It's in a good location near the intersection of Vine Street and Western. I imagine Ana curled up in her bed under her comforter and her cream-and-blue quilt.

I run several blocks and turn down into the market; the vendors are setting up for business. I dodge between the fruit and vegetable trucks and the refrigerated vans delivering the catch of the day. This is the heart of the city—vibrant, even this early on a gray, cool morning. The water on the Sound is a glassy leaden color, matching the sky. But it does nothing to dampen my spirits.

Today's the day.

AFTER MY SHOWER I
don jeans and a linen shirt, and from my chest of drawers I take out a hair tie. I slip it into my pocket and head into my study to e-mail Ana.

From:
Christian Grey

Subject:
My Life in Numbers

Date:
May 29 2011 08:04

To:
Anastasia Steele

If you drive you'll need this access code for the underground garage at Escala: 146963.

Park in bay five—it's one of mine.

Code for the elevator: 1880.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

A moment or two later, there's a response.

From:
Anastasia Steele

Subject:
An Excellent Vintage

Date:
May 29 2011 08:08

To:
Christian Grey

Yes, Sir. Understood.

Thank you for the champagne and the blow-up
Charlie Tango,
which is now tied to my bed.

Ana

An image of Ana tethered to her bed with my tie comes to mind. I shift in my chair. I hope she's brought that bed to Seattle.

From:
Christian Grey

Subject:
Envy

Date:
May 29 2011 08:11

To:
Anastasia Steele

You're welcome.

Don't be late.

Lucky
Charlie Tango.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

She doesn't respond, so I hunt through the refrigerator for some breakfast. Gail has left me some croissants and, for lunch, a Caesar salad with chicken, enough for two. I hope Ana will eat this; I don't mind having it two days in a row.

Taylor appears while I'm eating my breakfast.

“Good morning, Mr. Grey. Here are the Sunday papers.”

“Thanks. Anastasia is coming over at one today, and a Dr. Greene at one thirty.”

“Very good, sir. Anything else on the agenda today?”

“Yes. Ana and I will be going to my parents' for dinner this evening.”

Taylor cocks his head, looking momentarily surprised, but he remembers himself and leaves the room. I return to my croissant and apricot jam.

Yeah. I'm taking her to meet my parents. What's the big deal?

I CAN'T SETTLE. I'M
restless. It's 12:15 p.m. Time is crawling today. I give up on work and, grabbing the Sunday papers, wander back into the living room, where I switch on some music and read.

To my surprise there's a photograph of Ana and me on the local
news page, taken at the graduation ceremony at WSU. She looks lovely, if a little startled.

I hear the double doors open, and there she is…Her hair is loose, a little wild and sexy, and she's wearing that purple dress she wore to dinner at The Heathman. She looks gorgeous.

Bravo, Miss Steele.

“Hmm, that dress.” My voice is full of admiration as I saunter toward her. “Welcome back, Miss Steele,” I whisper, and, holding her chin, I give her a tender kiss on the lips.

“Hi,” she says, her cheeks a little rosy.

“You're on time. I like punctual. Come.” Taking her hand, I lead her to the sofa. “I wanted to show you something.” We both sit, and I pass her
The
Seattle Times.
The photograph makes her laugh. Not quite the reaction I was expecting.

“So I'm your ‘friend' now,” she teases.

“So it would appear. And it's in the newspaper, so it must be true.”

I'm calmer now that she's here—probably
because
she's here. She hasn't run. I tuck her soft, silky hair behind her ear; my fingers are itching to braid it.

“So, Anastasia, you have a much better idea of what I'm about since you were last here.”

“Yes.” Her gaze is intense…knowing.

“And yet you've returned.”

She nods, giving me a coy smile.

I can't believe my luck.

I knew you were a freak, Ana.

“Have you eaten?”

“No.”

Not at all?
Okay. We'll have to fix this. I drag my hand through my hair, and in as even a tone as I can manage I ask, “Are you hungry?”

“Not for food,” she teases.

Whoa.
She might as well be addressing my groin.

Leaning forward, I press my lips to her ear and catch her
intoxicating scent. “You are as eager as ever, Miss Steele—and just to let you in on a little secret, so am I. But Dr. Greene is due here shortly.”

I lean against the sofa. “I wish you'd eat.” It's a plea.

“What can you tell me about Dr. Greene?” She deftly changes the subject.

“She's the best ob-gyn in Seattle. What more can I say?”

That's what my doctor told my PA, anyway.

“I thought I was seeing
your
doctor? And don't tell me you're really a woman, because I won't believe you.”

I suppress my snort. “I think it's more appropriate that you see a specialist. Don't you?”

She gives me a quizzical look, but she nods.

One more topic to tackle.
“Anastasia, my mother would like you to come to dinner this evening. I believe Elliot is asking Kate, too. I don't know how you feel about that. It will be odd for me to introduce you to my family.”

She takes a second to process the information, then tosses her hair over her shoulder in that way she does before a fight. But she looks hurt, not argumentative. “Are you ashamed of me?” She sounds choked.

Oh, for heaven's sake.
“Of course not.”
Of all the ridiculous things to say!
I glare at her, aggrieved. How could she think that about herself?

“Why is it odd?” she asks.

“Because I've never done it before.” I sound irritable.

“Why are you allowed to roll your eyes, and I'm not?”

“I wasn't aware that I was.”
She's calling me out. Again.

“Neither am I, usually,” she snaps.

Shit. Are we arguing?

Taylor clears his throat. “Dr. Greene is here, sir,” he says.

“Show her up to Miss Steele's room.”

Ana turns and looks at me and I hold out my hand to her.

“You're not going to come as well, are you?” She's horrified and amused at once.

I laugh, and my body stirs. “I'd pay very good money to watch,
believe me, Anastasia, but I don't think the good doctor would approve.” She places her hand in mine, and I pull her up into my arms and kiss her. Her mouth is soft and warm and inviting; my hands glide into her hair and I deepen the kiss. When I pull away, she looks dazed. I press my forehead to hers. “I'm so glad you're here. I can't wait to get you naked.”
I can't believe how much I missed you.
“Come on. I want to meet Dr. Greene, too.”

“You don't know her?”

“No.”

I take Ana's hand and we head upstairs, to what will be her bedroom.

Dr. Greene has one of those myopic stares; it's penetrating and that makes me a tad uncomfortable. “Mr. Grey,” she says, shaking my outstretched hand with a firm, no-nonsense grip.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice.” I flash her my most benign smile.

“Thank you for making it worth my while, Mr. Grey. Miss Steele,” she says politely to Ana, and I know she's sizing up our relationship. I'm sure that she thinks I should be twiddling a mustache like a silent-movie villain. She turns and gives me a pointed “leave now” kind of look.

Okay.

“I'll be downstairs,” I acquiesce. Though I would like to watch. I'm sure the good doctor's reaction would be priceless if I made that request. I smirk at the thought and head downstairs to the living room.

Now that Ana's no longer with me, I'm restless again. As a distraction I set the counter with two placemats. It's the second time I've done this, and the first time was for Ana, too.

You're going soft, Grey.

I select a Chablis to have with lunch—one of the few chardonnays I like—and when I'm done I take a seat on the sofa and browse through the sports section of the paper. Turning up the volume via the remote for my iPod, I hope the music will help me focus on stats from last night's Mariners win against the Yankees, rather than what's happening upstairs between Ana and Dr. Greene.

Eventually their footsteps echo in the corridor, and I look up as they enter. “Are you done?” I ask, and hit the remote for the iPod, to quiet the aria.

“Yes, Mr. Grey. Look after her; she's a beautiful, bright young woman.”

What has Ana told her?

“I fully intend to,” I say, with a quick what-the-fuck glance at Ana.

She bats her lashes, clueless.
Good.
It's nothing she's said, then.

“I'll send you my bill,” says Dr. Greene. “Good day, and good luck to you, Ana.” The edges of her eyes crinkle with a warm smile as we shake hands.

Taylor escorts her toward the elevator and wisely closes the double doors to the foyer.

“How was that?” I ask, a little bemused by Dr. Greene's words.

“Fine, thank you,” Ana answers. “She said that I had to abstain from all sexual activity for the next four weeks.”

What the hell?
I gape at her in shock.

Ana's earnest expression dissolves into one of taunting triumph. “Gotcha!”

Well played, Miss Steele.

My eyes narrow and her grin vanishes.

“Gotcha!” I can't help my smirk. Reaching around her waist, I pull her against me, my body hungering for her. “You are incorrigible, Miss Steele.” I weave my hands through her hair and kiss her hard, wondering if I should fuck her over the kitchen counter as a lesson.

All in good time, Grey.

“As much as I'd like to take you here and now, you need to eat and so do I. I don't want you passing out on me later,” I whisper.

“Is that all you want me for—my body?” she asks.

“That and your smart mouth.” I kiss her once more, thinking of what's to come…My kiss deepens and desire hardens my body. I want this woman. Before I fuck her on the floor, I release her, and we're both breathless.

“What's the music?” she says, her voice hoarse.

“Villa-Lobos, an aria from
Bachianas Brasileiras.
Good, isn't it?”

“Yes,” she says, gazing at the breakfast bar. I take the chicken Caesar out of the fridge, place it on the table between the placemats, and ask her if she's okay with salad.

“Yes, fine, thank you.” She smiles.

From the wine fridge I take out the Chablis, feeling her eyes on me. I didn't know I could be so domestic. “What are you thinking?” I ask.

“I was just watching the way you move.”

“And?” I ask, momentarily surprised.

“You're very graceful,” she says quietly, her cheeks pink.

“Why, thank you, Miss Steele.” I sit beside her, unsure how to respond to her sweet compliment. Nobody's called me graceful before. “Chablis?”

“Please.”

“Help yourself to salad. Tell me—what method did you opt for?”

“Mini pill,” she says.

“And will you remember to take it regularly, at the right time, every day?”

A blush steals across her surprised face. “I'm sure you'll remind me,” she says with a hint of sarcasm, which I choose to ignore.

You should have had the shot.

“I'll put an alarm on my calendar. Eat.”

She takes a bite, then another…and another. She's eating!

“So I can put chicken Caesar on the list for Mrs. Jones?” I ask.

“I thought I'd be doing the cooking.”

“Yes. You will.”

She finishes before I do. She must have been starving.

“Eager as ever, Miss Steele?”

“Yes,” she says, giving me a demure look from beneath her lashes.

Fuck. There it is.

The attraction.

As if under her spell, I get up and tug her into my arms.

“Do you want to do this?” I whisper, inwardly begging her to say yes.

“I haven't signed anything.”

“I know—but I'm breaking all the rules these days.”

“Are you going to hit me?”

“Yes, but it won't be to hurt you. I don't want to punish you right now. If you'd caught me yesterday evening, well, that would have been a different story.”

Her face turns to shock.

Oh, baby.
“Don't let anyone try to convince you otherwise, Anastasia. One of the reasons people like me to do this is because we either like to give or receive pain. It's very simple. You don't, so I spent a great deal of time yesterday thinking about that.”