Grey
Page 4
Are these not her questions? I ask her, and she pales. Damn, she really is attractive, in an understated sort of way.
“Er…no. Kate—Miss Kavanagh—she compiled the questions.”
“Are you colleagues on the student paper?”
“No. She’s my roommate.”
No wonder she’s all over the place. I scratch my chin, debating whether or not to give her a really hard time.
“Did you volunteer to do this interview?” I ask, and I’m rewarded with her submissive look: she’s nervous about my reaction. I like the effect I have on her.
“I was drafted. She’s not well.” Her voice is soft.
“That explains a great deal.”
There’s a knock at the door, and Andrea appears.
“Mr. Grey, forgive me for interrupting, but your next meeting is in two minutes.”
“We’re not finished here, Andrea. Please cancel my next meeting.”
Andrea gapes at me, looking confused. I stare at her. Out! Now! I’m busy with little Miss Steele here.
“Very well, Mr. Grey,” she says, recovering quickly, and turning on her heel, she leaves us.
I turn my attention back to the intriguing, frustrating creature on my couch. “Where were we, Miss Steele?”
“Please, don’t let me keep you from anything.”
Oh no, baby. It’s my turn now. I want to know if there are any secrets to uncover behind that lovely face.
“I want to know about you. I think that’s only fair.” As I lean back and press my fingers to my lips, her eyes flick to my mouth and she swallows. Oh yes—the usual effect. And it is gratifying to know she isn’t completely oblivious of my charms.
“There’s not much to know,” she says, her blush returning.
I’m intimidating her. “What are your plans after you graduate?”
“I haven’t made any plans, Mr. Grey. I just need to get through my final exams.”
“We run an excellent internship program here.”
What possessed me ever to say that? It’s against the rules, Grey. Never fuck the staff…But you’re not fucking this girl.
She looks surprised, and her teeth sink into that lip again. Why is that so arousing?
“Oh. I’ll bear that in mind,” she replies. “Though I’m not sure I’d fit in here.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask. What’s wrong with my company?
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?”
“Not to me.” I’m confounded by her response. She’s flustered again as she reaches for the recorder.
Shit, she’s going. Mentally I run through my schedule for that afternoon—there is nothing that won’t keep. “Would you like me to show you around?”
“I’m sure you’re far too busy, Mr. Grey, and I do have a long drive.”
“You’re driving back to Vancouver?” I glance out the window. It’s one hell of a drive, and it’s raining. She shouldn’t be driving in this weather, but I can’t forbid her. The thought irritates me. “Well, you’d better drive carefully.” My voice is sterner than I intend. She fumbles with the recorder. She wants out of my office, and to my surprise, I don’t want her to go.
“Did you get everything you need?” I ask in a transparent effort to prolong her stay.
“Yes, sir,” she says quietly. Her response floors me—the way those words sound, coming out of that smart mouth—and briefly I imagine that mouth at my beck and call.
“Thank you for the interview, Mr. Grey.”
“The pleasure’s been all mine,” I respond—truthfully, because I haven’t been this fascinated by anyone for a while. The thought is unsettling. She stands and I extend my hand, eager to touch her.
“Until we meet again, Miss Steele.” My voice is low as she places her hand in mine. Yes, I want to flog and fuck this girl in my playroom. Have her bound and wanting…needing me, trusting me. I swallow.
It ain’t going to happen, Grey.
“Mr. Grey.” She nods and withdraws her hand quickly, too quickly.
I can’t let her go like this. It’s obvious she’s desperate to leave. It’s irritating, but inspiration hits me as I open my office door.
“Just ensuring you make it through the door,” I quip.
Her lips form a hard line. “That’s very considerate, Mr. Grey,” she snaps.
Miss Steele bites back! I grin behind her as she exits, and follow her out. Both Andrea and Olivia look up in shock. Yeah, yeah. I’m just seeing the girl out.
“Did you have a coat?” I ask.
“A jacket.”
I give Olivia a pointed look and she immediately leaps up to retrieve a navy jacket, passing it to me with her usual simpering expression. Christ, Olivia is annoying—mooning over me all the time.
Hmm. The jacket is worn and cheap. Miss Anastasia Steele should be better dressed. I hold it up for her, and as I pull it over her slim shoulders, I touch the skin at the base of her neck. She stills at the contact and pales.
Yes! She is affected by me. The knowledge is immensely pleasing. Strolling over to the elevator, I press the call button while she stands fidgeting beside me.
Oh, I could stop your fidgeting, baby.
The doors open and she scurries in, then turns to face me. She’s more than attractive. I would go as far as to say she’s beautiful.
“Anastasia,” I say, in good-bye.
“Christian,” she answers, her voice soft. And the elevator doors close, leaving my name hanging in the air between us, sounding odd and unfamiliar, but sexy as hell.
I need to know more about this girl.
“Andrea,” I bark as I return to my office. “Get me Welch on the line, now.”
As I sit at my desk and wait for the call, I look at the paintings on the wall of my office, and Miss Steele’s words drift back to me. “Raising the ordinary to extraordinary.” She could so easily have been describing herself.
My phone buzzes. “I have Mr. Welch on the line for you.”
“Put him through.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Welch, I need a background check.”
SATURDAY, MAY 14, 2011
ANASTASIA ROSE STEELE
DOB:
Sept. 10, 1989, Montesano, WA
Address:
1114 SW Green Street, Apartment 7, Haven
“Er…no. Kate—Miss Kavanagh—she compiled the questions.”
“Are you colleagues on the student paper?”
“No. She’s my roommate.”
No wonder she’s all over the place. I scratch my chin, debating whether or not to give her a really hard time.
“Did you volunteer to do this interview?” I ask, and I’m rewarded with her submissive look: she’s nervous about my reaction. I like the effect I have on her.
“I was drafted. She’s not well.” Her voice is soft.
“That explains a great deal.”
There’s a knock at the door, and Andrea appears.
“Mr. Grey, forgive me for interrupting, but your next meeting is in two minutes.”
“We’re not finished here, Andrea. Please cancel my next meeting.”
Andrea gapes at me, looking confused. I stare at her. Out! Now! I’m busy with little Miss Steele here.
“Very well, Mr. Grey,” she says, recovering quickly, and turning on her heel, she leaves us.
I turn my attention back to the intriguing, frustrating creature on my couch. “Where were we, Miss Steele?”
“Please, don’t let me keep you from anything.”
Oh no, baby. It’s my turn now. I want to know if there are any secrets to uncover behind that lovely face.
“I want to know about you. I think that’s only fair.” As I lean back and press my fingers to my lips, her eyes flick to my mouth and she swallows. Oh yes—the usual effect. And it is gratifying to know she isn’t completely oblivious of my charms.
“There’s not much to know,” she says, her blush returning.
I’m intimidating her. “What are your plans after you graduate?”
“I haven’t made any plans, Mr. Grey. I just need to get through my final exams.”
“We run an excellent internship program here.”
What possessed me ever to say that? It’s against the rules, Grey. Never fuck the staff…But you’re not fucking this girl.
She looks surprised, and her teeth sink into that lip again. Why is that so arousing?
“Oh. I’ll bear that in mind,” she replies. “Though I’m not sure I’d fit in here.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask. What’s wrong with my company?
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?”
“Not to me.” I’m confounded by her response. She’s flustered again as she reaches for the recorder.
Shit, she’s going. Mentally I run through my schedule for that afternoon—there is nothing that won’t keep. “Would you like me to show you around?”
“I’m sure you’re far too busy, Mr. Grey, and I do have a long drive.”
“You’re driving back to Vancouver?” I glance out the window. It’s one hell of a drive, and it’s raining. She shouldn’t be driving in this weather, but I can’t forbid her. The thought irritates me. “Well, you’d better drive carefully.” My voice is sterner than I intend. She fumbles with the recorder. She wants out of my office, and to my surprise, I don’t want her to go.
“Did you get everything you need?” I ask in a transparent effort to prolong her stay.
“Yes, sir,” she says quietly. Her response floors me—the way those words sound, coming out of that smart mouth—and briefly I imagine that mouth at my beck and call.
“Thank you for the interview, Mr. Grey.”
“The pleasure’s been all mine,” I respond—truthfully, because I haven’t been this fascinated by anyone for a while. The thought is unsettling. She stands and I extend my hand, eager to touch her.
“Until we meet again, Miss Steele.” My voice is low as she places her hand in mine. Yes, I want to flog and fuck this girl in my playroom. Have her bound and wanting…needing me, trusting me. I swallow.
It ain’t going to happen, Grey.
“Mr. Grey.” She nods and withdraws her hand quickly, too quickly.
I can’t let her go like this. It’s obvious she’s desperate to leave. It’s irritating, but inspiration hits me as I open my office door.
“Just ensuring you make it through the door,” I quip.
Her lips form a hard line. “That’s very considerate, Mr. Grey,” she snaps.
Miss Steele bites back! I grin behind her as she exits, and follow her out. Both Andrea and Olivia look up in shock. Yeah, yeah. I’m just seeing the girl out.
“Did you have a coat?” I ask.
“A jacket.”
I give Olivia a pointed look and she immediately leaps up to retrieve a navy jacket, passing it to me with her usual simpering expression. Christ, Olivia is annoying—mooning over me all the time.
Hmm. The jacket is worn and cheap. Miss Anastasia Steele should be better dressed. I hold it up for her, and as I pull it over her slim shoulders, I touch the skin at the base of her neck. She stills at the contact and pales.
Yes! She is affected by me. The knowledge is immensely pleasing. Strolling over to the elevator, I press the call button while she stands fidgeting beside me.
Oh, I could stop your fidgeting, baby.
The doors open and she scurries in, then turns to face me. She’s more than attractive. I would go as far as to say she’s beautiful.
“Anastasia,” I say, in good-bye.
“Christian,” she answers, her voice soft. And the elevator doors close, leaving my name hanging in the air between us, sounding odd and unfamiliar, but sexy as hell.
I need to know more about this girl.
“Andrea,” I bark as I return to my office. “Get me Welch on the line, now.”
As I sit at my desk and wait for the call, I look at the paintings on the wall of my office, and Miss Steele’s words drift back to me. “Raising the ordinary to extraordinary.” She could so easily have been describing herself.
My phone buzzes. “I have Mr. Welch on the line for you.”
“Put him through.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Welch, I need a background check.”
SATURDAY, MAY 14, 2011
ANASTASIA ROSE STEELE
DOB:
Sept. 10, 1989, Montesano, WA
Address:
1114 SW Green Street, Apartment 7, Haven
