Grey (20 page)

So, her points.

2: Not sure why this is solely for MY benefit—i.e., to explore MY sensuality and limits. I'm sure I wouldn't need a ten-page contract to do that! Surely this is for YOUR benefit.

Fair point well made, Miss Steele!

4: As you are aware, you are my only sexual partner. I don't take drugs, and I've not had any blood transfusions. I'm probably safe. What about you?

Another fair point! And it dawns on me that this is the first time I haven't had to consider the sexual history of a partner. Well, that's one advantage of screwing a virgin.

8: I can terminate at any time if I don't think you're sticking to the agreed limits. Okay—I like this.

I hope it won't come to that, but it wouldn't be the first time if it did.

9: Obey you in all things? Accept without hesitation your discipline? We need to talk about this.

11: One-month trial period. Not three.

Only a month? That's not long enough. How far can we go in a month?

12: I cannot commit every weekend. I do have a life, or will have. Perhaps three out of four?

And she'll have the opportunity to socialize with other men? She'll realize what she's missing. I'm not sure about this.

15.2: Using my body as you see fit sexually or otherwise—please define “or otherwise.”

15.5: This whole discipline clause. I'm not sure I want to be whipped, flogged, or corporally punished. I am sure this would be in breach of clauses 2–5. And also “for any other reason.” That's just mean—and you told me you weren't a sadist.

Shit! Read on, Grey.

15.10: Like loaning me out to someone else would ever be an option. But I'm glad it's here in black and white.

15.14: The Rules. More on those later.

15.19: Touching myself without your permission. What's the problem with this? You know I don't do it anyway.

15.21: Discipline—please see clause 15.5 above.

15.22: I can't look into your eyes? Why?

15.24: Why can't I touch you?

Rules:

Sleep—I'll agree to six hours.

Food—I am not eating food from a prescribed list. The food list goes or I do—deal breaker.

Well, this is going to be an issue!

Clothes—as long as I only have to wear your clothes when I'm with you…okay.

Exercise—We agreed on three hours, this still says four.

Soft Limits:

Can we go through all of these? No fisting of any kind. What is suspension? Genital clamps—you have got to be kidding me.

Can you please let me know the arrangements for Wednesday? I am working until five p.m. that day.

Good night.

Ana

Her response is a relief. Miss Steele has put some thought into this, more so than anyone else I've dealt with over this contract. She's really engaged. She seems to be taking it seriously and we'll have much to discuss on Wednesday. The uncertainty that I felt when leaving her apartment this evening recedes. There's hope for our relationship, but first—she needs to sleep.

From:
Christian Grey

Subject:
Issues

Date:
May 24 2011 00:07

To:
Anastasia Steele

Miss Steele,

That's a long list. Why are you still up?

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

A few minutes later her answer is in my inbox.

From:
Anastasia Steele

Subject:
Burning the Midnight Oil

Date:
May 24 2011 00:10

To:
Christian Grey

Sir,

If you recall, I was going through this list when I was distracted and bedded by a passing control freak.

Good night.

Ana

Her e-mail makes me laugh out loud but it irritates me in equal measure. She's much more sassy in print and she has a great sense of humor, but the woman needs sleep.

From:
Christian Grey

Subject:
Stop Burning the Midnight Oil

Date:
May 24 2011 00:12

To:
Anastasia Steele

GO TO BED, ANASTASIA.

Christian Grey

CEO & Control Freak, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

A few minutes pass and once I'm convinced she's gone to bed, persuaded by my capital letters, I head into my bedroom. I take my laptop just in case she replies again.

Once in bed, I grab my book and read. After half an hour I give up. I can't concentrate; my mind keeps straying to Ana, how she was this evening, and her e-mail.

I need to remind her of what I expect from our relationship. I don't want her getting the wrong idea. I've strayed too far from my goal.

“Are you going to come and help Ana with the move?”
Kavanagh's words remind me that unrealistic expectations have been set.

Perhaps I could help them move?

No. Stop now, Grey.

Opening my laptop, I read through her “Issues” e-mail again. I need to manage her expectations and try to find the right words to express how I feel.

Finally, I'm inspired.

From:
Christian Grey

Subject:
Your Issues

Date:
May 24 2011 01:27

To:
Anastasia Steele

Dear Miss Steele,

Following my more thorough examination of your issues, may I bring to your attention the definition of submissive.

submissive [
suh
b-mis-iv]—adjective

1. inclined or ready to submit; unresistingly or humbly obedient:
submissive servants.

2. marked by or indicating submission:
a submissive reply.

Origin: 1580–90; submiss + -ive

Synonyms:
1.
tractable, compliant, pliant, amenable.
2.
 passive, resigned, patient, docile, tame, subdued.
Antonyms:
1.
rebellious, disobedient.

Please bear this in mind for our meeting on Wednesday.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

That's it. I hope she'll find it amusing, but it gets my point across.

With that thought, I switch off my bedside light and fall asleep and dream.

His name is Lelliot. He's bigger than me. He laughs. And smiles. And shouts. And talks all the time. He talks all the time to Mommy and Daddy. He is my brother.
Why don't you talk?
Lelliot says again and again and again.
Are you stupid?
Lelliot says again and again and again. I jump on him and smack his face again and again and again. He cries. He cries a lot. I don't cry. I never cry. Mommy is angry with me. I have to sit on the bottom stair. I have to sit for the longest time. But Lelliot never asks me why I don't talk ever again. If I make my hand into a fist he runs away. Lelliot is scared of me. He knows I'm a monster.

WHEN I RETURN FROM
my run the next morning, I check my e-mail before having a shower. Nothing from Miss Steele, but then it's only 7:30. Maybe it's a little early.

Grey, snap out of this. Get a grip.

I glare at the gray-eyed prick who stares back at me from the mirror as I shave.
No more. Forget about her for today.

I have a job to do and a breakfast meeting to attend.

“FREDDIE WAS SAYING BARNEY
may have a prototype of the tablet for you in a couple of days,” Ros tells me during our videoconference.

“I was studying the schematics yesterday. They were impressive,
but I'm not sure we're there yet. If we get this right there's no telling where the technology could go, and what it could do in developing countries.”

“Don't forget the home market,” she interjects.

“As if.”

“Christian, just how long are you going to be in Portland?” Ros sounds exasperated. “What's going on down there?” Eyeing the webcam, she then peers hard at her screen, looking for clues in my expression.

“A merger.” I try to hide my smile.

“Does Marco know?”

I snort. Marco Inglis is the head of my mergers and acquisitions division. “No. It's not that kind of merger.”

“Oh.” Ros is silenced momentarily and, from her look, surprised.

Yeah. It's private.

“Well, I hope you're successful,” she says, smirking.

“Me, too,” I acknowledge with a smirk of my own. “Now, can we talk about Woods?”

Over the past year, we've acquired three tech companies. Two are booming, surpassing all targets, and one is struggling despite Marco's initial optimism. Lucas Woods heads it up; he's turned out to be an idiot—all show, no substance. The money has gone to his head and he's lost focus and squandered the lead his company once had in fiber optics. My gut says asset-strip the company, fire Woods, and merge their technology division into GEH.

But Ros thinks Lucas needs more time—and that we need time to plan if we're going to liquidate and rebrand his company. If we do, it will involve expensive redundancies.

“I think Woods has had enough time to turn this around. He just won't accept reality,” I say emphatically. “We need him gone, and I'd like Marco to estimate the costs of liquidating.”

“Marco wants to join us for this part of the call. I'll get him to log in.”

AT 12:30 IN THE
afternoon Taylor drives me out to WSU in Vancouver for lunch with the president, the head of the environmental
sciences department, and the vice president of economic development. As we approach the long driveway I can't help looking out at all the students to see if I can spy Miss Steele. Alas, I don't see her; she's probably holed up in the library reading a classic. The thought of her curled up somewhere with a book is comforting. There has been no reply to my last e-mail, but then she's been working. Perhaps there'll be something after lunch.

As we pull up outside the administration building my phone buzzes. It's Grace. She never calls during the week.

“Mom?”

“Hello, darling. How are you?”

“Fine. I'm about to go into a meeting.”

“Your PA said you were in Portland.” Her voice is full of hope.

Damn.
She thinks I'm with Ana.

“Yeah, on business.”

“How's Anastasia?”
There it is!

“Fine as far as I know, Grace. What do you want?”

Oh, Good Lord.
My mother is someone else whose expectations I have to manage.

“Mia's coming home a week early, on Saturday. I'm on call that day and your father is away at a legal conference presenting a panel on philanthropy and aid,” she says.

“You want me to meet her?”

“Will you?”

“Sure. Ask her to send me her flight details.”

“Thank you, darling. Say hi to Anastasia for me.”

“I have to go. Good-bye, Mom.” I hang up before she can ask any more awkward questions. Taylor opens the car door.

“I should be out of here by three.”

“Yes, Mr. Grey.”

“Will you be able to see your daughter tomorrow, Taylor?”

“Yes, sir.” His expression is warm and full of paternal pride.

“Great.”

“I'll be here at three,” he confirms.

I head into the university's administration building…This is going to be a long lunch.

I HAVE MANAGED TO
keep Anastasia Steele out of every waking thought today. Almost. During lunch there were times when I found myself imagining us in my playroom…What did she call it?
The Red Room of Pain.
I shake my head, smiling, and check my e-mail. That woman has a way with words, but so far there are no words from her today.