Fifty Shades Trilogy 01 - Fifty Shades of Grey

the very latest from Apple.”
    How come that does not surprise me? I sigh heavily.
    “Just set it up on the dining table over there.”
    I wander into the kitchen to join Kate.
    “What is it?” she says inquisitive, bright eyed and bushy tailed. She’s slept well, too.
    “It’s a laptop from Christian.”
    “Why’s he sent you a laptop? You know you can use mine,” she frowns.
    Not for what he has in mind.
    “Oh, it’s only on loan. He wanted me to try it out.” My excuse sounds feeble. But Kate nods her assent. Oh my … I have hoodwinked Katherine Kavanagh. A first. She hands me my tea.
    The Mac laptop is sleek and silver and rather beautiful. It has a very large screen. Christian Grey likes scale – I think of his living area, in fact, his whole apartment.
    “It’s got the latest OS and a full suite of programs, plus a one-point-five terabyte hard drive so you’ll have plenty of room, thirty-two gigs of RAM – what are you planning to use it for?
    “Uh… e-mail.”
    “E-mail!” he chokes, bemused, raising his eyebrows with a slightly sick look on his face.
    “And maybe Internet research?” I shrug apologetically.
    He sighs.
    “Well, this has full wireless N, and I’ve set it up with your Me account details. This baby is all ready to go, practically anywhere on the planet.” He looks longingly at it.
    “Me account?”
    “Your new e-mail address.”
    I have an e-mail address?
    He points to an icon on the screen and continues to talk at me but it’s like white noise. I haven’t got a clue what he’s saying, and in all honestly, I’m not interested. Just tell me how to switch it on and off – I’ll figure out the rest. After all, I’ve been using Kate’s for four years. Kate whistles, impressed when she sees it.
    “This is next-generation tech.” She raises her eyebrows at me. “Most women get flowers or maybe jewelry,” she says suggestively, trying to suppress a smile.
    I scowl at her but can’t keep a straight face. We both burst into a fit of giggles, and computer man gapes at us, bemused. He finishes up and asks me to sign the delivery note.
    As Kate shows him out, I sit with my cup of tea, open the e-mail program, and sitting there waiting for me is an e-mail from Christian. My heart leaps into my mouth. I have an e-mail from Christian Grey. Nervously, I open it.

    From: Christian Grey
    Subject: Your New Computer
    Date: May 22 2011 23:15
    To: Anastasia Steele
    Dear Miss Steele
    I trust you slept well. I hope that you put this laptop to good use, as discussed.
I look forward to dinner, Wednesday.
Happy to answer any questions before then, via e-mail, should you so desire.
    Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
    I hit reply.

    From: Anastasia Steele
    Subject: Your New Computer (on loan)
    Date: May 23 2011 08:20
    To: Christian Grey
    I slept very well thank you – for some strange reason – Sir.
I understood that this computer was on loan, ergo not mine.
Ana
    Almost instantaneously there is a response.
    From: Christian Grey
    Subject: Your New Computer (on loan)
    Date: May 23 2011 08:22
    To: Anastasia Steele
    The computer is on loan. Indefinitely, Miss Steele.
I note from your tone that you have read the documentation I gave you.
Do you have any questions so far?
    Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
    I can’t help but grin.

    From: Anastasia Steele
    Subject: Enquiring Minds
    Date: May 23 2011 08:25
    To: Christian Grey
    I have many questions, but not suitable for e-mail, and some of us have to work for a living.
I do not want or need a computer indefinitely.
Until later, good day. Sir.
Ana
    His reply again is instant, and it makes me smile.

    From: Christian Grey
    Subject: Your New Computer (again on loan)
    Date: May 23 2011 08:26
    To: Anastasia Steele
    Laters, baby.
    PS: I work for a living, too.
    Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
    I shut the computer down, grinning like an idiot. How can I resist playful Christian? I am going to be late for work. Well, it is my last week – Mr. and Mrs. Clayton will probably cut me some slack. I race into the shower, unable to shake my face-splitting grin. He e-mailed me. I’m like a small, giddy child. And all the contract angst fades. As I wash my hair, I try and think what I could possibly ask him via e-mail. Surely it’s better to talk these things through. Suppose someone hacked into his account? I flush at the thought. I dress quickly, shout a hasty goodbye to Kate, and I’m off to