by E. L. James
Ah. The Kavanagh offspring, together.
I mutter his name as we shake hands, noting that they are soft, unlike Ray Steele’s.
Now stop pawing my girl, you fucker.
“Ana, baby,” I whisper, holding out my hand, and like the good woman she is, she steps into my embrace. She’s discarded her graduation robe and wears a pale gray halter-neck dress, exposing her flawless shoulders and back.
Two dresses in two days. She’s spoiling me.
“Ethan, Mom and Dad wanted a word.” Kavanagh hauls her brother away, leaving me with Ana and her father.
“So how long have you kids known each other?” Mr. Steele asks.
As I reach across to grasp Ana’s shoulder I gently trace my thumb across her naked back and she trembles in response. I tell him we’ve known each other for a couple of weeks. “We met when Anastasia came to interview me for the student newspaper.”
“Didn’t know you worked on the student newspaper, Ana,” Mr. Steele says.
“Kate was ill,” she says.
Ray Steele eyes his daughter and frowns. “Fine speech you gave, Mr. Grey,” he says.
“Thank you, sir. I understand that you’re a keen fisherman.”
“Indeed I am. Annie tell you that?”
“She did.”
“You fish?” There’s a spark of curiosity in his brown eyes.
“Not as much as I’d like to. My dad used to take my brother and me when we were kids. For him it was all about the steelheads. Guess I caught the bug from him.” Ana listens for a moment, then excuses herself and moves off through the crowd to join the Kavanagh clan.
Damn, she looks sensational in that dress.
“Oh? Where d’you fish?” Ray Steele’s question pulls me back into the conversation. I know it’s a test.
“All over the Pacific Northwest.”
“You grew up in Washington?”
“Yes, sir. My dad started us on the Wynoochee River.”
A smile tugs at Steele’s mouth. “Know it well.”
“But his favorite is the Skagit. The U.S. side. He’d get us out of bed at some ungodly hour of the morning and we’d drive up there. He’s caught some mighty fine fish in that river.”
“That’s some sweet water. Caught me some rod breakers in the Skagit. On the Canadian side, mind.”
“It’s one of the best stretches for wild steelheads. Give you a much better chase than those that are clipped,” I say, my eyes on Ana.
“Couldn’t agree more.”
“My brother’s caught a couple of wild monsters. Me, I’m still waiting for the big one.”
“One day, huh?”
“I hope so.”
Ana is deep in a passionate discussion with Kavanagh. What are those two women talking about?
“You still get out much to fish?” I refocus on Mr. Steele.
“Sure do. Annie’s friend José, his father, and I sneak out as often as we can.”
The fucking photographer! Again?
“He’s the guy that looks after the Beetle?”
“Yeah, that’s him.”
“Great car, the Beetle. I’m a fan of German-made cars.”
“Yeah? Annie loves that old car, but I guess it’s getting past its sell-by date.”
“Funny you should mention that. I was thinking of loaning her one of my company cars. Do you think she’d go for it?”
“I guess. That would be up to Annie, mind.”
“Great. I take it Ana’s not into fishing.”
“No. That girl takes after her mother. She couldn’t stomach seeing the fish suffer. Or the worms, for that matter. She’s a gentle soul.” He gives me a pointed look. Oh. A warning from Raymond Steele. I turn it into a joke.
“No wonder she wasn’t keen on the cod we ate the other day.”
Steele chuckles. “She’s fine with eating them.”
Ana has finished talking to the Kavanaghs and is heading our way. “Hi,” she says, beaming at us.
“Annie, where are the restrooms?” Steele asks.
She directs him to go outside the pavilion and to the left.
“See you in a moment. You kids enjoy yourselves,” he says.
She watches him go, then peers nervously up at me. But before she or I can say anything we’re interrupted by a photographer. She snaps a quick still of us together before hurrying away.
“So you’ve charmed my father as well?” Ana says, her voice sweet and teasing.
“As well?” Have I charmed you, Miss Steele?
With my fingers I trace the rosy flush that appears on her cheek. “Oh, I wish I knew what you were thinking, Anastasia.” When my fingers reach her chin I tilt her head back so I can scrutinize her expression. She stills and stares back at me, her pupils darkening.
“Right now,” she whispers, “I’m thinking, nice tie.”
I was expecting some kind of declaration; her response makes me laugh. “It’s recently become my favorite.”
She smiles.
“You look lovely, Anastasia. This halter-neck dress suits you, and I get to stroke your back, feel your beautiful skin.”
Her lips part and her breath hitches, and I can feel the pull of the attraction between us.
“You know it’s going to be good, don’t you, baby?” My voice is low, betraying my longing.
She closes her eyes, swallows, and takes a deep breath. When she opens them again, she’s radiating anxiety. “But I want more,” she says.
“More?”
Fuck. What is this?
She nods.
“More?” I whisper again. Her lip is pliant beneath my thumb. “You want hearts and flowers.” Fuck. It will never work with her. How can it? I don’t do romance. My hopes and dreams begin to crumble between us.
Her eyes are wide, innocent, and beseeching.
Damn. She’s so beguiling. “Anastasia. It’s not something I know.”
“Me, neither.”
Of course; she’s never had a relationship before. “You don’t know much.”
“You know all the wrong things,” she breathes.
“Wrong? Not to me. Try it,” I plead.
Please. Try it my way.
Her gaze is intense as she searches my face, looking for clues. And for a moment I’m lost in blue eyes that see everything.
“Okay,” she whispers.
“What?” Every hair on my body stands to attention.
“Okay. I’ll try.”
“You’re agreeing?” I don’t believe it.
“Subject to the soft limits, yes. I’ll try.”
Sweet. Lord. I pull her into my arms and wrap her in my embrace, burying my face in her hair, inhaling her seductive scent. And I don’t care that we’re in a crowded space. It’s just her and me. “Jesus, Ana, you’re so unexpected. You take my breath away.”
A moment later I’m aware that Raymond Steele has returned and is examining his watch to cover his embarrassment. Reluctantly, I release her. I’m on top of the world.
Deal done, Grey!
“Annie, should we get some lunch?” Steele asks.
“Okay,” she says with a shy smile directed at me.
“Would you like to join us, Christian?” For a moment I’m tempted, but Ana’s anxious glance in my direction says, Please, no. She wants alone time with her dad. I get it.
“Thank you, Mr. Steele, but I have plans. It’s been great to meet you, sir.”
Try and control your stupid grin, Grey.
“Likewise,” Steele replies—sincerely, I think. “Look after my baby girl.”
“Oh, I fully intend to,” I respond, shaking his hand.
In ways that you can’t possibly imagine, Mr. Steele.
I take Ana’s hand and bring her knuckles to my lips.
“Later, Miss Steele,” I murmur. You’ve made me a happy, happy man.
Steele gives me a brief nod, and taking his daughter’s elbow, leads her out of the reception. I stand dazed but brimming with hope.
She’s agreed.
“Christian Grey?” My joy is interrupted by Eamon Kavanagh, Katherine’s father.
“Eamon, how are you?” We shake hands.
TAYLOR COLLECTS ME AT 3:30. “Good afternoon, sir,” he says, opening my car door.
En route he informs me that the Audi A3 has been delivered to The Heathman. Now I just have to give it to Ana. No doubt this will involve a discussion, and deep down I know it will be more than just a discussion. Then again, she’s agreed to be my submissive, so maybe she’ll accept my gift without any fuss.
Who are you kidding, Grey?
A man can dream. I hope we can meet this evening; I’ll give it to her as her graduation present.
I call Andrea and tell her to put a WebEx breakfast meeting into my schedule tomorrow with Eamon Kavanagh and his associates in New York. Kavanagh is interested in upgrading his fiber-optic network. I ask Andrea to have Ros and Fred on standby for the meeting, too. She relays some messages—nothing important—and reminds me I have to attend a charity function tomorrow evening in Seattle.
Tonight will be my last night in Portland. It’s almost Ana’s last night here, too…I contemplate calling her, but there’s little point since she doesn’t have her cell phone. And she’s enjoying time with her dad.
Staring out the car window as we drive toward The Heathman, I watch the good people of Portland go about their afternoon. At a stoplight there’s a young couple arguing on the sidewalk over a spilled bag of groceries. Another couple, even younger, walks hand in hand past them, eyes locked and giggling. The girl leans up and whispers something in the ear of her tattooed beau. He laughs, leans down, and kisses her quickly, then opens the door to a coffee shop and steps aside to let her enter.
Ana wants “more.” I sigh heavily and plow my fingers through my hair. They always want more. All of them. What can I do about that? The hand-in-hand couple strolling to the coffee shop—Ana and I did that. We’ve eaten together at two restaurants, and it was…fun. Perhaps I could try. After all, she’s giving me so much. I loosen my tie.
Could I do more?
BACK IN MY ROOM, I strip down, pull on my sweats, and head downstairs for a quick circuit in the gym. Enforced socializing has stretched the limits of my patience and I need to work off some excess energy.
And I need to think about more.
ONCE I’M SHOWERED AND dressed and back in front of my laptop, Ros calls via WebEx to check in and we talk for forty minutes. We cover all of the items on her agenda, including the Taiwan proposal and Darfur. The cost of the airdrop is staggering, but it’s safer for all involved. I give her the go-ahead. Now we have to wait for the shipment to arrive in Rotterdam.
“I’m up to date on Kavanagh Media. I think Barney should be in on the meeting, too,” Ros says.
“If you think so. Let Andrea know.”
“Will do. How was the graduation ceremony?” she asks.
“Good. Unexpected.”
Ana agreed to be mine.
“Unexpected good?”
“Yes.”
From the screen Ros peers at me, intrigued, but I say nothing more.
“Andrea tells me you’re back in Seattle tomorrow.”
“Yes. I have a function to attend in the evening.”
“Well, I hope your ‘merger’ has been successful.”
“I would say affirmative at this point, Ros.”
She smirks. “Glad to hear it. I have another meeting, so if there’s nothing else, I’ll say good-bye for now.”
“Good-bye.” I log out of WebEx and into e-mail, turning my attention to this evening.
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Soft Limits
Date: May 26 2011 17:22
To: Anastasia Steele
What can I say that I haven’t already?
Happy to talk these through anytime.
You looked beautiful today.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
And to think this morning I was convinced it was all over between us.
Jesus, Grey. You need to get a grip. Flynn would have a field day.
Of course, part of the reason was she didn’t have her phone. Perhaps she needs a more reliable form of communication.
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: BlackBerry
Date: May 26 2011 17:36
To: J B Taylor
Cc: Andrea Ashton
Taylor
Please source a new BlackBerry for Anastasia Steele with her e-mail preinstalled. Andrea can get the account details from Barney and get them to you.
Please deliver it tomorrow either to her home or to Clayton’s.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
Once that’s sent, I pick up the latest Forbes and start to read.
By 6:30 there’s no response from Ana, so I assume she’s still entertaining the quiet and unassuming Ray Steele. Given that they aren’t related, they’re remarkably similar.
I order the seafood risotto from room service and while I wait I read more of my book.
GRACE CALLS WHILE I’M reading.
“Christian, darling.”
“Hello, Mother.”
“Did Mia get in touch?”
“Yes. I have her flight details. I’ll pick her up.”
“Great. Now, I hope you’ll stay for dinner on Saturday.”
“Sure.”
“And then on Sunday Elliot is bringing his friend Kate to dinner. Would you like to come? You could bring Anastasia.”
That’s what Kavanagh was talking about today.
I play for time. “I’ll have to see if she’s free.”
“Let me know. It will be lovely to have all the family together again.”
I roll my eyes. “If you say so, Mother.”
“I do, darling. See you Saturday.”
She hangs up.
Take Ana to meet my parents? How the hell do I get out of that?
As I contemplate this predicament, an e-mail arrives.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Soft Limits
Date: May 26 2011 19:23
To: Christian Grey
I can come over this evening to discuss if you’d like.
Ana
No, no baby. Not in that car. And my plans fall into place.
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Soft Limits
Date: May 26 2011 19:27
To: Anastasia Steele
I’ll come to you. I meant it when I said I wasn’t happy about you driving that car.
I’ll be with you shortly.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I print out another copy of the “Soft Limits” from the contract and her “Issues” e-mail because I’ve left my first copy in my jacket, which she still has in her possession. Then I call Taylor in his room.
“I’m going to deliver the car to Anastasia. Can you pick me up from her place—say, nine thirty?”
“Certainly, sir.”
Before I leave I stuff two condoms into the back pocket of my jeans.
I might get lucky.
THE A3 IS FUN to drive, though it’s got less torque than I’m used to. I pull up outside a liquor store on the outskirts of Portland to buy some celebratory champagne. I forgo the Cristal and the Dom Pérignon for a Bollinger, mostly because it’s the 1999 vintage, and chilled, but also b
ecause it’s pink…symbolic, I think with a smirk, as I hand my AmEx to the cashier.
Ana is still wearing the stunning gray dress when she opens the door. I look forward to peeling it off her later.
“Hi,” she says, her eyes large and luminous in her pale face.
“Hi.”
“Come in.” She seems shy and awkward. Why? What’s happened?
“If I may.” I hold up the bottle of champagne. “I thought we’d celebrate your graduation. Nothing beats a good Bollinger.”
“Interesting choice of words.” Her voice is sardonic.
“Oh, I like your ready wit, Anastasia.” There she is…my girl.
“We only have teacups. We’ve packed all the glasses.”
“Teacups? Sounds good to me.”
I watch her wander into the kitchen. She’s nervous and skittish. Perhaps because she’s had a big day, or because she’s agreed to my terms, or because she’s here alone—I know Kavanagh is with her own family this evening; her father told me. I hope the champagne will help Ana relax…and talk.
The room is empty, except for packing crates, the sofa, and the table. There’s a brown parcel on the table with a handwritten note attached.
“I agree to the conditions, Angel; because you know best what my punishment ought to be; only—only—don’t make it more than I can bear!”
“Do you want saucers as well?” she calls.
“Teacups will be fine, Anastasia,” I respond, distracted. She’s wrapped up the books—the first editions I sent her. She’s giving them back to me. She doesn’t want them. This is why she’s nervous.
How the hell will she react to the car?
Looking up, I see her standing there, watching me. And carefully she places the cups on the table.
“That’s for you.” Her voice is small and strained.
“Hmm, I figured as much,” I mutter. “Very apt quote.” I trace her handwriting with my finger. The letters are small and neat, and I wonder what a graphologist would make of them. “I thought I was d’Urberville, not Angel. You decided on the debasement.” Of course it’s the perfect quote. My smile is ironic. “Trust you to find something that resonates so appropriately.”
