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50 SHADES OF GREY P46
snow white yunho
love_b_y_e_love

I stand and make my way over to the kitchen area on the pretense of unpacking one of the crates. They are going to get icky.

“I’ll see if I can escape,” he promises.

“I’ll come down with you.” Kate smiles.

“Laters, Ana.” Elliot grins.

“Bye, Elliot. Say hi to Christian from me.”

“Just hi?” His eyebrows shoot up suggestively.

“Yes.” I flush. He winks at me, and I go crimson as he follows Kate out of the apartment.Elliot is adorable and so different from Christian. He’s warm, open, physical,

very physical, too physical, with Kate. They can barely keep their hands off each other – to be honest it’s embarrassing - and I am pea-green with envy.

Kate returns about twenty minutes later with pizza, and we sit, surrounded by crates, in our new open space, eating straight from the box. Kate’s dad has done us

proud. The apartment is not large, but it’s big enough, three bedrooms and a large living space that looks out on to Pike Place Market itself. It’s all solid wood floors

and red brick, and the kitchen tops are smooth concrete, very utilitarian, very now. We both love that we will be in the heart of the city.

At eight the entry-phone buzzes. Kate leaps up - and my heart leaps into my mouth.

“Delivery, Miss Steele, Miss Kavanagh.” Disappointment flows freely and unexpectedly through my veins. It’s not Christian.

“Second floor, apartment two.”

Kate buzzes the delivery boy in. His mouth falls open when he sees Kate, all tight jeans, t-shirt, hair piled high with escaping tendrils. She has that effect on men. He

holds a bottle of champagne with a helicopter-shaped balloon attached. She gives him a dazzling smile to send him on his way and proceeds to read the card out to me.

Ladies, Good luck in your new home, Christian Grey.

Kate shakes her head in disapproval.

“Why can’t he just write ‘from Christian’? And what’s with the weird helicopter balloon?”

“Charlie Tango.”

“What?”

“Christian flew me to Seattle in his helicopter.” I shrug.

Kate stares at me open mouthed. I have to say – I love these occasions – Katherine Kavanagh, silent and floored, they are so rare. I take a brief and luxurious moment

to enjoy it.

“Yep, he has a helicopter, which he flew himself,” I state proudly.

“Of course the obscenely rich bastard has a helicopter. Why didn’t you tell me?” Kate looks accusingly at me, but she’s smiling, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

She frowns.

“Are you going to be okay while I’m away?”

“Are you going to be okay while I’m away?”

“Of course.” I answer reassuringly. New city, no job… nut-job boyfriend.

“Did you give him our address?

“No, but stalking is one of his specialties.” I muse, matter-of-fact.

Kate’s brow knits further.

“Somehow I’m not surprised. He worries me, Ana. At least it’s a good champagne and it’s chilled.”

Of course, only Christian would send chilled champagne or get his secretary to do it…

or maybe Taylor. We open it there and then and find our teacups - they were the last items to be packed.

“Bollinger Grande Année Rosé 1999, an excellent vintage.” I grin at Kate, and we clink teacups.

I wake early to a gray Sunday morning after a surprisingly refreshing night’s sleep and lie awake staring at my crates. You should really be unpacking these, my

subconscious nags, pursing her harpy lips together. No… today’s the day. My inner goddess is beside herself, hopping from foot to foot. Anticipation hangs heavy and

portentous over my head like a dark tropical storm cloud. Butterflies flood my belly – as well as a darker, carnal, captivating ache as I try to imagine what he will do to

me… and of course, I have to sign that damned contract or do I? I hear the ping of incoming mail from the mean machine on the floor beside my bed.

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 5 – it’s one of mine.

Code for the elevator: 1880

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

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

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.

I roll my eyes at his bossiness, but his last line makes me smile. I head for the bathroom, wondering if Elliot made it back last night and trying hard to rein in my

nerves.

nerves.

I can drive the Audi in high-heels! At 12:55 p.m. precisely, I pull into the garage at Escala and park in bay five. How many bays does he own? The Audi SUV is

there, the R8, and two smaller Audi SUVs… hmm. I check my seldom-worn mascara in the light up vanity mirror on my sunshield. Didn’t have one of these in the

Beetle.

Go girl! My inner goddess has her pom poms in hand - she’s in cheerleading mode.

In the infinity mirrors of the elevator, I check out my plum dress, well – Kate’s plum dress.

The last time I wore this, he wanted to peel it off me. My body clenches at the thought.

Oh my, the feeling is just exquisite, and I catch my breath. I’m wearing the underwear that Taylor bought for me. I flush at the thought of his buzz-cut roaming the

aisles of Agent Provocateur or wherever he bought it. The doors open, and I’m facing the foyer of apartment number one.

Taylor stands at the double doors as I step out of the elevator.

“Good afternoon, Miss Steele,” he says.

“Oh please call me, Ana.”

“Ana,” he smiles.

“Mr. Grey is expecting you.”

I bet he is.

Christian is seated on his living room couch reading the Sunday papers. He glances up as Taylor directs me into the living area. The room is exactly as I remember it –

it’s been a whole week since I’ve been here – but it feels so much longer. Christian looks cool and calm – actually, he looks heavenly. He’s in a loose white linen shirt

and jeans, no shoes or socks. His hair is tousled and unkempt, and his gray eyes twinkle wickedly at me. He is jaw-droppingly handsome. He rises and strolls towards

me, an amused appraising smile on his beautiful sculptured lips.

I stand immobilized at the entrance of the room, paralyzed by his beauty and the sweet anticipation of what’s to come. The familiar charge between us is there,

sparking slowly in my belly, drawing me to him.

“Hmm… that dress,” he murmurs approvingly as he gazes down at me. “Welcome back, Miss Steele,” he whispers, and clasping my chin, he leans down and proffers

a gentle light kiss on my lips. The touch of his lips to mine reverberates throughout my body. My breath hitches.

“Hi,” I whisper as I flush.

“You’re on time. I like punctual. Come.” He takes my hand and leads me to the couch. “I wanted to show you something,” he says as we sit. He hands me the Seattle

Times. On page eight, there’s a photograph of the two of us together at the graduation ceremony. Holy crap. I’m in the paper. I check the caption.

Christian Grey and friend at the graduation ceremony at WSU Vancouver.

I laugh.

“So I’m your ‘friend’ now.”

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

Sitting beside me, his whole body is turned toward me, one of his legs tucked under the other. Reaching over, he tucks my hair behind my ear with his long index

finger. My body comes alive at his touch, waiting and needful.

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

“Yes.” Where’s he going with this?

“And yet you’ve returned.”

I nod shyly, and his gray eyes blaze. He shakes his head slightly as if he’s struggling with the idea.

“Have you eaten?” he asks out of the blue.

Shit.

“No.”

“Are you hungry?” He’s really trying not to look annoyed.

“Not for food,” I whisper, and his nostrils flare slightly in reaction.

He leans forward and whispers in my ear.

“You are as eager as ever, Miss Steele, and just to let you into a little secret, so am I.

But Dr. Greene is due here shortly.” He sits up. “I wish you’d eat,” he scolds me mildly.

My heated blood cools. Holy cow – the doctor. I’d forgotten.

“What can you tell me about Dr. Greene?” I ask to distract us both.

“She’s the best Ob/Gyn in Seattle. What more can I say?” He shrugs.

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

He gives me a don’t-be-ridiculous look.

“I think it’s more appropriate that you see a specialist. Don’t you?” he says mildly.

I nod. Holy Moses, if she’s the best Ob/Gyn, he’s scheduled her to see me on a Sunday

– at lunchtime! I cannot begin to imagine how much that costs. Christian frowns suddenly as if recalling something unpleasant.

“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.”

Odd? Why?

“Are you ashamed of me?” I can’t keep the wounded hurt out of my voice.

“Of course not.” He rolls his eyes at me.

“Why is it odd?”

“Because I’ve never done it before.”

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

He blinks at me.

“I wasn’t aware that I was.”

“Neither am I usually,” I snap at him.

Christian glares at me, speechless. Taylor appears at the doorway.

“Dr. Greene is here, Sir.”

“Show her up to Miss Steele’s room.”

Miss Steele’s room!

“Ready for some contraception?” he asks as he stands and holds out his hand to me.

“You’re not going to come as well are you?” I gasp, shocked.

He laughs.

“I’d pay very good money to watch, believe me, Anastasia, but I don’t think the good doctor would approve.”

I take his hand, and he pulls me up into his arms and kisses me deeply. I clutch on to his arms, taken by surprise. His hand is in my hair holding my head, and he pulls

me against him, his forehead against mine.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispers. “I can’t wait to get you naked.”

Dr. Greene is tall, blond, and immaculate, dressed in a royal blue suit. I’m reminded of the women who work in Christian’s office. She’s like an identikit model –

another Stepford blonde. Her long hair is swept up in an elegant chignon. She must be in her early forties.

“Mr. Grey.” She shakes Christian’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you for coming at such short notice,” Christian says.

“Thank you for making it worth my while, Mr. Grey. Miss Steele.” She smiles, her eyes cool and assessing.

We shake hands, and I know she’s one of those women who doesn’t tolerate fools gladly. Like Kate. I like her immediately. She gives Christian a pointed stare, and

after an awkward beat, he takes his cue.

“I’ll be downstairs,” he mutters, and he leaves what will be my bedroom.

“Well Miss Steele. Mr. Grey is paying me a small fortune to attend to you. What can I do for you?”

After a thorough examination and lengthy discussion, Dr. Greene and I decide on the mini pill. She writes me a pre-paid prescription and instructs me to pick them up

tomorrow. I love her no-nonsense attitude – she has lectured me until she’s as blue as her dress about taking it at the same time every day. And I can tell she’s burning

with curiosity about my so-called relationship with Mr. Grey. I don’t give her any details. Somehow I don’t think she’d look so calm and collected if she’d seen his

Red Room of Pain. I flush as we pass its closed door and head back downstairs to the art gallery that is Christian’s living room.

Christian is reading, seated on his couch. A breathtaking aria is playing on the music system, swirling round him, cocooning him, filling the room with a sweet, soulful

song.

For a moment, he looks serene. He turns and glances at us when we enter and smiles warmly at me.

“Are you done?” he asks as if he’s genuinely interested. He points the remote at a sleek white box beneath the fireplace that houses his iPod, and the exquisite melody

fades but continues in the background. Standing, he strolls towards us.

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

Christian is taken aback – as am I. What an inappropriate thing for a doctor to say. Is she giving him some kind of not so subtle warning? Christian recovers himself.

“I fully intend to,” he mutters, bemused.

Gazing at him, I shrug, embarrassed.

“I’ll send you my bill,” she says crisply as she shakes his hand.

“Good day, and good luck to you, Ana.” She smiles, her eyes crinkling as she does when we shake hands.

Taylor appears from nowhere to escort her through the double doors and out to the elevator. How does he do that? Where does he lurk?

“How was that?” Christian asks.

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

Christian’s mouth drops open in shock, and I cannot keep a straight face any longer and grin at him like an idiot.

“Gotcha!”

He narrows his eyes, and I immediately stop laughing. In fact, he looks rather forbidding. Oh shit. My subconscious quails in the corner as all the blood drains from

my face, and I imagine him putting me across his knee again.

“Gotcha!” he says and smirks. He grabs me around my waist and pulls me up against him. “You are incorrigible, Miss Steele,” he murmurs, staring down into my eyes

as he weaves his fingers into my hair, holding me firmly in place. He kisses me, hard, and I cling on to his muscular arms for support.

“As much as I’d like to take you here, now, you need to eat and so do I. I don’t want you passing out on me later,” he murmurs against my lips.

“Is that all you want me for – my body?” I whisper.

“That and your smart mouth,” he breathes.

He kisses me again passionately, and then abruptly releases me, taking my hand and leading me to the kitchen. I am reeling. One minute we’re joking and the next… I

fan my heated face. He’s just sex on legs, and now I have to recover my equilibrium and eat something. The aria is still playing in the background.

“What’s the music?”

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

“Yes,” I murmur in total agreement.

s�[-=m���_�tom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none'>“So you’re not going to punish me?”

“No. I’m an in-the-moment kind of guy.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“You can hang up now, Miss Steele.”

“Do you really want me to, Sir?”

“Go to bed, Anastasia.”

“Yes, Sir.”

We both stay on the line.

“Do you ever think you’ll be able to do what you’re told?” He’s amused and exasperated at once.

“Maybe. We’ll see after Sunday.” And I press ‘end’ on the phone.

Elliot stands and admires his handiwork. He has re-plugged our TV into the satellite system in our Pike Place Market apartment. Kate and I flop on to the couch

giggling, impressed by his prowess with a power drill. The flat screen looks odd against the brickwork of the converted warehouse, but no doubt I will get used to it.

“See, baby, easy.” He grins a wide white-toothed smile at Kate, and she almost literally dissolves into the couch.

I roll my eyes at the pair of them.

“I’d love to stay, baby, but my sister is back from Paris. It’s a compulsory family dinner tonight.”

“Can you come by after?” Kate asks tentatively, all soft and un-Katelike


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