𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ▸ A recent graduate of WSU, Anastasia Steele has moved to Seattle. With no friends or family, she needs a job and an apartment ASAP. What she doesn't need is a stalker. What happens when an act of desperation introduces h...
"Mr. Grey? You asked me to report when I was back from lunch?" Andrea announced through the intercom right on the dot of one.
"Yes... thank you. Please come in."
I'd less than subtly suggested Andrea go to lunch with Anastasia in order for her to report back. Now how to phrase my questions without sounding like a total creep?
Andrea stepped into my office. "I hope I'm not late back from lunch? I had a lovely meal with Ms. Steele. She's enjoying her work on the eighth floor and said she's learned a lot already. Her co-workers have been kind, and she's made her way through three corporate information documents in a day and a half. In passing, Stephanie mentioned she's impressed with her attention to detail and work ethic."
I nodded. Stephanie, second in charge of marketing, was no one's fool. If she was impressed with Anastasia, it meant she was doing outstanding work. I also appreciated Andrea giving me the information I needed without forcing me to ask.
"That's good to know, thanks, Andrea. I will be out of the office for the rest of the afternoon. Could you please call and let Ms. Steele know Taylor will collect her from the eighth floor at five."
"Of course, Mr. Grey," Andrea said with just the smallest smirk. "It would be my pleasure."
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"You have to tell her. Starting a relationship based on a lie will all but guarantee its failure."
Flynn had me at a disadvantage. I am not sure which of the lies he was calling me out on? The temp position I'd quietly arranged for Anastasia? Buying a publishing house so I could keep her employed and safe as she worked in her dream industry? I'd spent an hour spilling my secrets and was now waiting for him to unpick them.
"You have to tell her about your past with contracted submissives."
"She'll run a mile. Who wouldn't?" I muttered, truly ashamed of myself. A series of fifteen interchangeable women whom I'd treated as objects. Hell—off the top of my head, I couldn't even recall all their names. "Why does Anastasia need to know? She'll never find out. They've all signed NDAs."
John lifted an eyebrow in challenge. "Even if Ms. Steele was never to discover the details about your past lovers, she deserves your honesty. If you think this relationship could go somewhere..."
"I do," I interjected.
"... then you need to put all your cards on the table, so to speak, and you need to do that before you and Ms. Steele are intimate. She needs to give informed consent."
Putting it that way, I got it. Consent, and trust, was a big thing in the scene. While I hated to admit it, even to myself, if I withheld information about my past, it would be tantamount to tricking Anastasia into bed with me.
"So how do I go about doing this? The last thing I want to do is scare her and have her wanting to leave Escala because she thinks I'm going to hurt her."
