Grey: Fifty Shades of Grey as told by Christian: 0 (24 page)

“Anastasia, I don’t want to go there at the moment.”

I don’t need your pity.

I close my eyes. All this time I thought she didn’t want to talk to me. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“Worried, why?”

“Because you went home in that deathtrap you call a car.”

And I thought I’d blown the deal between us.

Ana bristles. “What? It’s not a deathtrap. It’s fine. José regularly services it for me.”

“José, the photographer?” This just gets better and fucking better.

“Yes, the Beetle used to belong to his mother.”

“Yes, and probably her mother and her mother before her. It’s not safe.” I’m almost shouting.

“I’ve been driving it for over three years. I’m sorry you were worried. Why didn’t you call?”

I called her cell phone. Does she not use her damned cell phone? Is she talking about the house phone? Running my hand through my hair in exasperation, I take a deep breath. This is not addressing the fucking elephant in the room.

“Anastasia, I need an answer from you. This waiting around is driving me crazy.”

Her face falls.

Shit.

“Christian, I…look, I’ve left my stepdad on his own.”

“Tomorrow. I want an answer by tomorrow.”

“Okay. Tomorrow, I’ll tell you then,” she says with an anxious look.

Well, it’s still not a “no.”
And once more, I’m surprised by my relief.

What the hell is it about this woman?
She stares up at me with
sincere blue eyes, her face etched in concern, and I resist the urge to touch her. “Are you staying for drinks?” I ask.

“I don’t know what Ray wants to do.” She looks uncertain.

“Your stepfather? I’d like to meet him.”

Her uncertainty magnifies. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she says darkly, as I unlock the door.

What? Why?
Is this because she now knows I was dirt-poor as a kid? Or because she knows how I like to fuck? That I’m a freak?

“Are you ashamed of me?”

“No!” she exclaims, and she rolls her eyes in frustration. “Introduce you to my dad as what?” She raises her hands in exasperation. “ ‘This is the man who deflowered me and wants us to start a BDSM relationship’? You’re not wearing running shoes.”

Running shoes?

Her dad is going to come after me? And just like that she has injected a little humor between us. My mouth twitches in response and she returns my smile, her face lighting up like a summer dawn.

“Just so you know, I can run quite fast,” I respond playfully. “Just tell him I’m your friend, Anastasia.” I open the door and follow her out but stop when I reach the chancellor and his colleagues. As one they turn and stare at Miss Steele, but she’s disappearing into the auditorium. They turn back to me.

Miss Steele and I are none of your business, people.

I give the chancellor a brief, polite nod and he asks if I’ll come and meet more of his colleagues and enjoy some canapés.

“Sure,” I reply.

It takes me thirty minutes to escape from the faculty gathering, and as I make my way out of the crowded reception Kavanagh falls into step beside me. We head to the lawn where the graduates and their families are enjoying a post-graduation drink in a large tented pavilion.

“So have you asked Ana to dinner on Sunday?” she asks.

Sunday? Has Ana mentioned that we’re seeing each other on Sunday?

“At your parents’ house,” Kavanagh explains.

My parents?

I spot Ana.

What the fuck?

A tall blond guy who looks as if he’s walked off a beach in California has his hands all over her.

Who the hell is that?
Is this why she didn’t want me to come for a drink?

Ana looks up, catches my expression, and pales as her roommate stands beside that guy. “Hello, Ray,” Kavanagh says, and she kisses a middle-aged man in an ill-fitting suit standing beside Ana.

This must be Raymond Steele.

“Have you met Ana’s boyfriend?” Kavanagh asks him. “Christian Grey.”

Boyfriend!

“Mr. Steele, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Mr. Grey,” he says, quietly surprised. We shake hands; his grip is firm, and his fingers and palm are rough to the touch. This man works with his hands. Then I remember—he’s a carpenter. His dark brown eyes give nothing away.

“And this is my brother, Ethan Kavanagh,” says Kate, introducing the beach bum who has his arm wrapped around Ana.

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.