Sunday afternoon found Christian and me lounging in the great room. He was sitting on the rug working with his laptop on the coffee table, while I sprawled on the couch beside him, engrossed in a novel from his well-equipped library. I could easily lose myself in there for hours. In fact, I was seriously tempted to sleep on the sofa in there just to surround myself with so many books! From time to time, I'd reach out and play with Christian's hair. He said nothing, but his smile suggested he enjoyed the affectionate contact. I enjoyed watching him while he worked. His face was so serious, and he was so immersed, yet even deep in contemplation, the man was breathtakingly handsome.
I was burning with curiosity about Elena Lincoln and just who she was to Christian. The moment Mia took me upstairs at his parents' house, I pumped her for all she knew, but there wasn't much to hear. Apparently, she was a former neighbor, a good friend of Grace's, and part-owner of two beauty salons that she ran with Christian being a silent partner. Mia confided she couldn't stand her and was certain Elena used her mother and brother for their social connections. What I couldn't understand was why Christian was so adamant she hear nothing about me. He'd introduced us using her surname, yet not mine. Clearly, there was more between Christian and Elena than a couple of beauty salons, however, I didn't think he'd be receptive if I outright asked.
"That's enough work for one day," Christian said, saving his files before closing the lid to his laptop with a contented sigh.
"Perfect timing," I replied. "I'm at the end of a chapter and getting hungry. Are you ready for dinner? Mrs. Jones is off this evening, right? I could cook something for us." Brunch had been so filling, we'd not needed anything since. The sun now setting, it was time to eat. "Is there anything you'd like?"
Christian turned to look at me with a scorching gaze. I immediately blushed and looked away. Whatever he was thinking about, it wasn't food.
"I eat anything. Surprise me, but don't go to any bother."
I sat up on the sofa, leaning over and quickly kissing the top of his head before I had the chance to chicken out. Then I stood and walked across to Gail's kitchen. "I'll throw something together," I said, taking in his pleasantly surprised expression before disappearing into the pantry so he didn't catch my blush. Finding chicken breasts in the fridge, along with a good supply of vegetables and Asian greens, I settled on a simple garlic and ginger chicken stir-fry. The prep took no time at all and served with some brown rice, it would be relatively healthy.
"Shall I select a wine for dinner?" Christian asked, appearing on the other side of the breakfast bar as I was dishing up. "We could have a Pinot Blanc, or I have an agreeable unoaked Chardonnay."
"Whatever you think," I replied. I was truly clueless about wine, having had few opportunities to try it. By the time Christian had selected and opened a bottle, our meals were plated, and I was serving them in our usual spots at the counter.
"This smells amazing," Christian said with a little moan that sent a shot of pleasure straight south. Without even meaning to, that man could turn me on!
"It's just a stir-fry," I replied, pleased that he seemed to approve of my simple meal.
"I can't wait to taste it." Pouring us each a generous serve of wine, we started eating. Christian had cleared his plate, and I was close to doing likewise when he spoke.
"You helped Mia choose a gown for the Coping Together gala. Did she tell you about it?"
"Not really. Just that your parents patron a charity and hold a ball at their home every year."
"It was because of my birth mother. Coping Together is a charity for recovering addicts and their children. Mom and Dad started it a few years after they adopted me. It offers practical support to parents in recovery, and kids who have been impacted by drug-addicted parents."
"Kids like you," I said, reaching out to squeeze his hand.
"Yes," he replied, squeezing my hand back. "The gala is at the beginning of next month. Actually, next Saturday. I was wondering whether you would attend with me? It's important to my mother that I appear. There's a different theme each year; this year it's a masquerade ball."
That sounded like a date, and I would love to be there with Christian, but there was no way I could afford a suitable dress—and the last thing I wanted was to further impose on his generosity.
"I'd love to, Christian—I really would—but at the moment, I just can't afford a dress for an event like that. Maybe next year once I'm working?" I tried to sound upbeat, but I'm sure it came across as resigned.
"If that's the only objection, then I believe we have a solution. Mia has been attending events like these for years. She has probably several dozen suitable dresses you could borrow for the evening. I appreciate she is taller than you, but she didn't use to be. I can ask her to send across what she has."
"I wouldn't want to be any bother..."
"Anastasia—how many times do I have to tell you you're not a bother? In a very short period of time, you've become my favorite person to spend time with. It would be a privilege and an honor to escort you to my parents' gala next week."
"Are you sure?" I asked, apprehensive and a little uncertain.
"Absolutely," he replied, leaning across our empty dinner plates and brushing his lips against mine.
Monday morning found me irritable. I'd tossed and turned all night, haunted by shadowy dreams of sexy gray eyes and the man they belonged to. Close to dawn I woke to hear the piano playing in the great room, so I knew I wasn't the only one who'd not had a good night's rest. Yet sitting at the breakfast bar with coffee and an omelet, Christian looked perfect.
"Good morning, Ms. Steele," he said, standing to greet me. I stepped into his arms and accepted a morning kiss. Christian's arms closed around me and I leaned my head against his chest. Damn—it should be illegal for a man to smell as good as Christian Grey did. "Sleep well?"
"So, so," I replied, reluctantly letting go of Christian to take my seat at the counter where Mrs. Jones had my teacup and pot of hot water waiting. Deciding on a poached egg with hollandaise on toasted sourdough, in no time at all we were on our way to Christian's work. Despite the calls and pings starting on the dot of eight, Christian ignored them all, instead speaking to me.
"Barney spent the weekend running the stalker's images through a facial recognition program, which he's then compared to police mugshots. There are a lot of potential hits, so he wants to go through them with you today to see if any of them are a match. There's a good chance this guy has been in trouble with the law before, so it might help us identify him."
My face must have given away my feelings, because the next thing I know, Christian had unbuckled my seat belt and lifted me to sit across his lap.
"Don't you worry about a thing, Ana. We're going to catch this guy. You're going to be safe. I won't let anything happen to you; I promise."
By the time Taylor pulled into the underground garage at Grey House, I'd straddled Christian's lap, and we were making out. Hearing Taylor's cleared throat, we pulled back from one another, Christian resting his forehead against mine.
"I don't want to go to work today," he whispered with a wonky grin. "I'd much rather spend the day doing this with you." I giggled. Christian Grey, a billionaire businessman, enjoyed making out in the back of a car like a teenager.
"Tsk tsk, Mr. Grey. You have an empire to run." I gave Christian a final, soft kiss before climbing off his lap.
"You're killing me here," he groaned, adjusting his pants before opening the SUV's door and coming around to open mine. Taylor escorted us across to the elevator, swiping his card to ensure we got into the next available car.
When we arrived on the twentieth floor, there was pandemonium. Movers were everywhere, carting in Christian's purchases for his office. Olivia was panicked, demanding to see identification before she allowed them into Christian's space, while Andrea was dealing with a phone that seemed to ring off the hook.
"Mr. Grey! Thank God you're here. These gentlemen say they have new office furniture for you? And there's a designer here with some soft furnishings for you to approve?" a visibly flustered Olivia blurted out.
"That's right," Christian replied, his arm casually draped around my waist. "Olivia, please take a box and empty my desk of my papers and belongings. Put it in meeting room three and also port my phone through. I will work from there this morning. Then you can supervise the workers removing my old furniture and placing the new. If the designer needs any direction, they can consult with Ms. Steele. She has ultimate approval." Olivia seemed to notice me for the first time, her eyes narrowing when she noticed Christian had his arm around me.
"You want me to organize your office?" I asked softly, spinning to face Christian.
"I do. I know you'll make it perfect," he replied, tightening his arms around me before leaning down to brush his lips against mine. "I better get to work, baby, and you need to see Barney."
"Ok," I replied, blushing at his term of endearment and very public display of affection.
"Might as well get comfy, there are over twelve-hundred potential matches from the facial recognition software," Barney said, gesturing to his sofa when I met him in his office. Knowing from last week that he liked double-shot long black coffee, I stopped by the break room on the way, preparing him a coffee and myself a tea.
"I've focussed the results a bit, eliminating anyone in custody over the last week, or when the other women went missing, while prioritizing anyone with a history of stalking. Realistically, it's going to take hours."
Barney was right. It DID take hours. I was interrupted at eleven by the designer installing the furniture in Christian's office, which was a welcome break after looking at hundreds of photos, none being my stalker. It was sobering just how many criminals were out there.
Walking into Christian's office, I could immediately see the designer had missed the mark. It was a mass of plants, with pillows, cushions, vases, and objet d'art scattered everywhere. Obviously hoping for the maximum commission, they'd completely skipped the 'less is more' principle! I didn't know what to say... Christian had placed his faith in me, but I couldn't see him liking this level of clutter in his previously pristine workspace. Stepping back out into reception, I could see Andrea and Olivia at their desks. Since Olivia never seemed particularly friendly, I reached out to the former.
"Um, Andrea? Do you have a couple of moments to spare? I need your input on Mr. Grey's office."
"Certainly, Ms. Steele," Andrea said, removing her headset and pressing buttons on her telephone. "Switching over to you, Olivia."
She followed me through to Christian's office, stopping at the entryway and covering her mouth with her hand as she suppressed a giggle. The short, male designer looked at us both expectantly.
"You have some lovely things here," I said, biting my lip at Andrea's mirth. "We just need a few minutes to play around considering Mr. Grey's preferences and workflow. Please take a lunch break and come back in half an hour."
As soon as the door was closed behind him, Andrea and I both started giggling.
"I can't imagine Mr. Grey working in a space like this," Andrea said, her usual composed demeanor absent as she tittered. "I mean—you can barely see his desk!"
"It's a jungle out there," I joked, causing us both to explode with laughter. "Let's grab a box each and pack anything we think he won't like."
Ten minutes later, between us, we'd removed almost a dozen cushions, several throws, some truly ugly vases, and sculptures. Additionally, we'd moved most of the plants to a corner to be taken away, leaving a large fiddle leaf fig and several smaller plants dotted around the space. The black leather desk set stayed, as did the crystal decanter and tumblers on a chromed tray on the drinks cabinet. A large black-and-white photograph of the Seattle skyline—including Grey House—would also be staying. José Rodriguez, I read the artist's signature in the bottom right-hand corner. That guy had genuine talent!
"This is more like it," Andrea said as we stood back to admire our work. "I can see Mr. Grey working comfortably here."
"Is there anything else you think he'll need?"
Andrea thought. "Maybe some coasters? He'd get watermarks on his old desk all the time."
"Then I'll pick some up today. Should we show Christian before we give the designer final approval?"
"Mr. Grey is out of the office at the moment. He's with his brother, inspecting a building that belongs to a business he is acquiring. He will be back by three o'clock but asked me to get you lunch at midday and then Denise wants to meet with you again at one."
"You don't need to get me lunch. If you can direct me to a kitchen store, I'm happy to grab something when I go out to get the coasters."
"Tell you what—I usually take lunch from twelve to one, how about we find some coasters together, then we can go to lunch?" Andrea suggested.
"I'd really like that," I replied. Andrea seemed like a friendly person, and it would be nice to get to know a few more people here in Seattle.
"Hey? Nearly done?" Christian asked, standing in the doorway of a breakout room Denise and I were using. We'd finished tweaking my resume, and with her help, I had several cold-call and targeted cover letters I could use to apply for jobs. She'd also provided me with a list of Seattle-based publishing firms, and other companies large enough to have in-house copywriting positions or similar, which might provide a job if publishing didn't. She'd explained if I took allied employment, I could leverage my expertise and make the switch to publishing in a year or two.
"I think so. Denise said I could start sending out resumes as early as tomorrow!"
I thought that would please Christian, but if anything, he looked a little annoyed.
"Thank you for your assistance, Ms. Pritchard. I appreciate your diligence. Now, Ms. Steele, I believe my office is ready for me to see?"
"Oh—I thought you would have checked in there already?"
"Without my office esthetician? Surely not," he teased, taking my hand and leading me out of the break room and toward where Andrea and Olivia sat. Nodding an acknowledgment of them, he walked to the large double doors to his office, opening one and looking around.
"Wow..." he said, whistling through his teeth. "This is... just wow."
"You like it?" I asked nervously as he walked around slowly, looking at one part and then another. "I told them to leave the conference table until the table and chairs you ordered are ready. Everything will co-ordinate better then."
"Anastasia—are you kidding? I love it. I was worried it might be cluttered, or look like I was trying too hard... But this? This is perfect."
I grinned. Once Andrea and I removed the excess 'stuff', to the chagrin of the designer, it allowed what we left to shine. Still relatively minimal, the new sofas and Eames lounge chair were focal pieces of the room, the rug and coffee table making up what was a comfortable professional sitting area. Christian's new Charlton Monterey desk, with all his belongings carefully unpacked by Andrea, made up an adjacent but more work-oriented space. The matching timbers and plants pulled the individual elements together as a whole. Once the new conference table and chairs arrived, it would undoubtedly be the most stylish mid-century inspired office in Seattle.
"You can thank Andrea, too. The designer had it much busier than this. She helped me pare it back."
"I will thank her later. Right now, I'd like to thank you." Literally scooping me off my feet, Christian carried me to one of the new black sofas. Definitely comfier than the white one it replaced, in moments I had one thigh on either side of Christian's, grinding against him as we yet again made out. In the position I was in, I could get a good feel of his growing erection. Holy hell! Either that man was hung, or that man was hung!
"You feel so good," Christian mumbled against my lips, as he pushed upward against my core, three pieces of fabric the only things separating us. Kissing me as if he would never stop, Christian groaned, lifting me off him. "If we don't stop now, I might not be able to."
A little dazed, I sat up, righting my clothing. "I take it you really like your office," I commented with a giggle.
"I do," he replied, moving to sit in the Eames chair and lifting his feet onto the ottoman. "And that sofa is much more comfortable than the old one. Now, Ms. Steele, I have a proposal for you. I know it may take a week or two before you hear back from any publishing applications." I was about to interrupt to explain I would take any job I was offered,but he held up his hand to allow him to continue. "One of our interns has taken several weeks off because her mother has passed away. She was about to rotate into our Marketing division to proofread and edit the corporate manuals and annual report templates for GEH and its subsidiaries. With your background in English Literature, you'd be an ideal temp to work in her role while she is away. The team in marketing need the help, and if you get a publishing job after only a week or so, they'll be in no worse a position than they are now."
"You're offering me a job?" I said, feeling strange about working at GEH given what was happening between Christian and me.
"Yes, temping. It was Ros's idea. She heard about the gap caused by the intern and suggested it as a good chance for you to earn some money and get experience for your resume without tying you into a long-term contract."
Christian had spoken to Ros about my situation? I wonder just how much she knew? With my bank balance at an all-time low of under thirty bucks, I couldn't really afford to say no, yet I was conflicted. It felt as though Christian and I were on the cusp of something, and me working for him would surely complicate that.
"Anastasia, take the job," Christian growled, regarding me from his new chair. "It will pay more than waitressing or anything else you'll find at short notice, you'll be safe here at Grey House, and Ros is right—having GEH on your resume can only be a good thing."
"How would it work? When would I start?"
"You could start tomorrow if you'd like? We can drive in together each day, and head home together each evening."
"I could really use the money," I said with a sigh, "and it is sort of in my field."
"Great! That's decided then. Let's get you down to HR to sign a temping contract, submit your social security, bank account details, and get you an IT login."