Fifty Shades Trilogy 01 - Fifty Shades of Grey

Is he deeply religious? Is he impotent? Surely not, he could prove that to me right now. Oh my. I flush scarlet thinking about the possibilities. This is getting me nowhere. I’d like to solve the riddle that is Christian Grey sooner rather than later. If it means that whatever secret he has is so gross that I don’t want to know him any more then, quite frankly, it will be a relief. Don’t lie to yourself – my subconscious yells at me – it’ll have to be pretty bloody bad to have you running for the hills.
    “Tonight.”
    He raises an eyebrow.
    “Like Eve, you’re so quick to eat from the tree of knowledge,” he smirks.
    “Are you smirking at me, Mr. Grey?” I ask sweetly. Pompous ass.
    He narrows his eyes at me and picks up his BlackBerry. He presses one number.
    “Taylor. I’m going to need Charlie Tango.”
    Charlie Tango! Who’s he?
    “From Portland at say twenty-thirty... No, standby at Escala… All night.”
    All night!
    “Yes. On call tomorrow morning. I’ll pilot from Portland to Seattle.”
    Pilot?
    “Standby pilot from twenty-two-thirty.” He puts the phone down. No please or thank you.
    “Do people always do what you tell them?”
    “Usually, if they want to keep their jobs,” he says, deadpan.
    “And if they don’t work for you?”
    “Oh, I can be very persuasive, Anastasia. You should finish your breakfast. And then I’ll drop you home. I’ll pick you up at Clayton’s at eight when you finish. We’ll fly up to Seattle.”
    I blink at him rapidly.
    “Fly?”
    “Yes. I have a helicopter.”
    I gape at him. I have my second date with Christian oh-so-mysterious Grey. From coffee to helicopter rides. Wow.
    “We’ll go by helicopter to Seattle?”
    “Yes.”
    “Why?”
    He grins wickedly.
    “Because I can. Finish your breakfast.”
    How can I eat now? I’m going to Seattle by helicopter with Christian Grey. And he wants to bite my lip… I squirm at the thought
    “Eat,” he says more sharply. “Anastasia, I have an issue with wasted food… eat.”
    “I can’t eat all this.” I gape at what’s left on the table.
    “Eat what’s on your plate. If you’d eaten properly yesterday, you wouldn’t be here, and I wouldn’t be declaring my hand so soon.” His mouth sets in a grim line. He looks angry.
    I frown and return to my now cold food. I’m too excited to eat, Christian. Don’t you understand? My subconscious explains. But I’m too much of a coward to voice these thoughts aloud, especially when he looks so sullen. Hmm, like a small boy. I find the thought amusing.
    “What’s so funny?” he asks. I shake my head, not daring tell him, and keep my eyes on my food. Swallowing my last piece of pancake, I peek up at him. He’s eyeing me speculatively.
    “Good girl,” he says. “I’ll take you home when you’ve dried your hair. I don’t want you getting ill.” There’s some kind of unspoken promise in his words. What does he mean? I leave the table, wondering for a moment if I should ask permission but dismissing the idea. Sounds like a dangerous precedent to set. I head back to his bedroom. A thought stops me.
    “Where did you sleep last night?” I turn to gaze at him still sitting in the dining room chair. I can’t see any blankets or sheets out here – perhaps he’s had them tidied away.
    “In my bed,” he says simply, his gaze impassive again.
    “Oh.”
    “Yes, it was quite a novelty for me, too.” He smiles.
    “Not having… sex.” There – I said the word. I blush – of course.
    “No,” he shakes his head and frowns as if recalling something uncomfortable. “Sleeping with someone.” He picks up his newspaper and continues to read.
    What in heaven’s name does that mean? He’s never slept with anyone? He’s a virgin? Somehow I doubt that. I stand staring at him in disbelief. He is the most mystifying person I’ve ever met. And it dawns on me that I have slept with Christian Grey, and I kick myself – what would I have given to be conscious to watch him sleep? See him vulnerable. Somehow, I find that hard to imagine. Well, allegedly all will be revealed tonight.
    In his bedroom, I hunt through a chest of drawers and find the hair dryer. Using my fingers, I dry my hair the best I can. When I’ve finished, I head into the bathroom. I want to clean my teeth. I eye Christian’s toothbrush. It would be like having him in my mouth. Hmm … Glancing guiltily over my shoulder at the door, I feel the bristles on the toothbrush.