Fifty Shades: Submission and Strength

Chapter 5

Come Saturday, Christian wanted to atone for his barrage of questions by keeping the dynamics between him and Anastasia light. He decided to forgo a trip to the playroom in favor of an early lunch to ensure that Ana ate properly.

They sat in companionable silence as he read the newspaper on the barstool while she chopped some cucumbers and tomatoes to add to the grilled chicken she had prepared. Christian snuck a glance her way for the umpteenth time. Not a great cook, but she'll suffice. She satisfies my tastes in other ways.

"Do you enjoy cooking?" The temptation to talk had proven too great to resist.

And here we go. At least he waited an hour this time before interrogating me.

"Not particularly," she replied dully, careful not to slice her finger for the umpteenth time. "I live alone so it's a necessary evil. I apologize. I'll try to read up on some recipes to broaden my repertoire."

"No don't," he interjected. "I could care less." As long as you eat. "Everything you've made has been delicious."

She smiled at his contrived compliment. Not it hasn't. It tastes like flavored cardboard, but you still manage to devour it like a starved caveman.

"My palette isn't very discerning — chicken, turkey and burgers with some veggies pretty much work for me," Ana shrugged, absentmindedly dropping tomato wedges on the floor as she focused all her attention on dicing the last cucumber. "I don't like to fuss. I'm low-maintenance in the grand scheme of things I suppose."

Christian scanned his lavish surroundings and his designer-label T-shirt and jeans, which stood in stark contrast to Ana's simple outfit of a beige sweater over khaki pants. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. He had avoided broaching the subject before but perhaps now was the right time. "There's nothing wrong with low-maintenance. I suppose I'm the polar opposite," he chuckled nervously.

"Nothing wrong with money Sir," she giggled, distracted by the painstaking process of cutting and chopping. How the fuck do those TV chefs do this? It must be the editing.

Christian seized his opportunity. "In that case, while I know you stated in one of your addendum clauses that gifts were forbidden, would you do me the courtesy of purchasing you some new attire."

Ana scrunched her nose, but not from the burnt smell of chicken that lingered in the kitchen. "Is there something wrong with my clothes Sir?" she stammered, trying to mask her indignation.

"Absolutely not," he replied, alarmed. "I only meant that I would like to buy you something as a thank-you for the time you've bestowed on me — as a sign of my gratitude."

Ana chewed her lip searching for ways to take the sting out of her rejection. Christian sat there mesmerized, temporarily forgetting about the clothes. All he wanted to do at the moment was divest Ana of hers.

"I truly appreciate that Sir, but I have to decline your kind offer." Too 'Pretty Woman' for me. "Please don't be offended." Which you will be.

Christian scrubbed his face. "Of course. I understand," he grumbled.

"I'm just a simple girl with simple tastes, whether it's food or clothes. There's not much to me," she added matter-of-factly.

Hope bloomed in his chest. "I highly doubt that Miss Steele. Tell me more about these so-called simple tastes of yours. I'm your Dom, after all. It's my job to know your preferences. It would please me."

Nice try. I only please you within the confines of the contract buddy.

"It's your duty to know my sexual preferences Sir," she pointedly reminded him.