"That's a matter of public record, Miss Steele." My voice is arctic. She
should know this shit. Now she looks contrite. Good.
"You've had to sacrifice a lamih life for your work."
"Thai's not a question," I snap.
She blushes again and bites down on that damned lip. But she has the grace
to apologize.
"Have you had to sacrifice a familv life for your «orkT
What do I mint with a fucking family?
"I have a family, i have a brother and a sister and two loving parents. I'm not
interested in extending my family beyond that."
"Are you gay, Mr. Grey?"
What the fuck! I cannot believe she's said that out loud! The unspoken ques-
tion that my own family dares not ask, much to my amusement. Hmv dare she! 1
have to fight down the urge to drag Iter out of her scat, bend iter across my knee,
and spank the living shil oni of her. then fuck Iter over m> desk with her hands
lied light i 1 i I u I 11 1 Thai w it s h qi lion I I In mating
this female? 1 take a deep calming breath. To my indiclivc delight, she appears to
be acutely embarrassed by her own question.
"No, Anastasia, I'm not." I raise my eyebrows, but keep my expression im-
passive. Anastasia. It is a lovely name. I like the way my tongue rolls around it.
" I apologize. It's um . . . written here." Nervously, she tucks her hair behind
her ear.
She doesn't know her own questions? Perhaps they're not hers. I ask Iter, ami
she pales. Fuck, she really is very attractive, in an understated sort of way. I
would even go so far as to say she is beautiful.
"Er ... no. Kate— Miss Kavanagh— she compiled the questions."
"Are you colleagues on lite student pane: ?"
No wonder she is all over the place. I scratch my chin, debating whether to
give her a really, really hard time.
"Did you volunteer to do this interview?" I ask, and I'm rewarded w itlt her
submissive look: eves large, nervous about in; reaction. I like the effect 1 have on
her.
"1 was drafted. She's not well," she says softly.
"That explains a great deal."
There's a knock at the door, and Andrea appears. "Mr. Grey, forgive me for
interrupting, but your next meeting is in two minutes."
"We're not finished here. Andrea. Please cancel m next meeting."
Andrea hesitates, gaping at me. I stare at her. Out! Now! I'm busy with Little
Miss Steele hen vt i i I scarlc I til ecovcrs quickly.
"Very well, Mr. Grey," she says, and turning on her heel, she leaves us.
I turn my attention back lo ih v - inlrigning. frustrating creature on nt conch.
"Where were we, Miss Steele?"
"Please don't let mc keep you from anything."
Oh no. baby. It's my turn now. I want to know if there are any secrets to un-
co er behind those beautiful exes.
"I want lo know about you. I think that's only fair." As 1 lean back and press
my fingers to my lip-., iter eve-, Hick lo nn mouth and she swallows. Oh, yes — the
usual effect And it i n i i i kin ntplelely oblivious to my
charms.
"There's not much to know shcsixs her I It retui ig I'm intimidaling
her. Good.
"What arc your plans alter you graduate?"
She shrugs. "1 haven't made any plans, Mr. Grey. 1 just need to get through
my final exams."
"We run an excellent internship program here " l-iick. hal possessed mc lo
n " I" king this She lo rpriscd. a id h i elh in -v into that lip again.
"Oh. I'll bear that in mind," she mumbles. Then as an afterthought she says.
Why the hell not? What's wrong with my company'.'
"Why do you say that?" 1 ask.
"Not to me." I'm confounded by her response.
She's flustered again as site reaches for the mini-disc recorder. Shit, she's go-
ing. Mentally I ran through my schedule for that afternoon — there is nothing that
"Would you like me to show you around?"
"I'm sure you're far loo busy. Mr. ( irey. and 1 do has e a long drive"" You're
driving back to WSU in Vancouver?" I glance out the window. It's one hell of a
drive, and it's raining. Shit. She shouldn't be driving in this weather, but I can't
forbid her. The thought irritates me. "Well, you'd better drive carefully." My
She fumbles with the mini-disc. She wants out of my office, and for some
reason 1 can't explain. I don't want her to go.
"Did you get c entiling ou need'.'" I add in a transparent effort to prolong
"Yes, sir," she says quietly.
Her response floors me — the way those words sound, coming out of that
smart month and briefly ! imagine that mouth al m beck and call.
"Thank you for the interview, Mr. Grey."
"The pleasure's >eei id mine [i spoil trulhfull bei iusc I haven't been
this fascinated b an) one in a long v Idle. The thought is unsettling
She stands anil I extend m hand, eager to touch her
"Until we meet again, Miss Steele." My voice is low as she places her small
hand in mine. Yes, I want to II, i i i playroom Have her
bound and wanting . . needing me. trusting me. i swallow /; am 't going to hap-
I i 1 i thd I h d quid U too quickly.
Shit, I can't let her go like this. It's obvious she is desperate to leave. Irrita-
"Just ensuring ou make il through the door. Miss Steele."
"That's very considerate, Mr. Grey," she snaps,
liss St I 1 1 i i 1 I n behind h i i ind 1 ollovv in her wake.
Both Andrea and Olivia look up in shock. Yeah, yeah. I in just seeing the girl out.
"Did you have a coal?" I ask.
"Yes."
I scowl at simpering Olivia, who immediately leaps up to retrieve a navy
coat. Taking it, I glare at her to sit down. Christ, Olivia is annoying— mooning
Hmm. The coat is from Walmart. Miss Anastasia Steele should be better
dressed. I hold it up for her, and as I pull it over her slim shoulders, I touch the
skin at the base of her neck. She stills at the contact and pales. Yes! She is affected
b i ilu ii lv pleasing. Sirol er to the elevator, I
i ih 1 lii i I I i I i I 1 in i
Oh, I coul I
i ill ii ltLii turns to face me.
"Anastasia." I uirm r. s ing g d-bc
"Christian," she whispers. And the elevator doors close, leaving my name
hanging in the air, sounding odd, unfamiliar, but sexy as hell.
Well, fuck me. What was that?
I need to know more about this girl. "Andrea," 1 snap as I stalk back into my
office. "Get me Welch on the line, now."
As I sit at my desk and wait for the call, I look at the paintings on the wall of
my office, and Miss Steele';. words drill back u> me. "Raising the ordinary to ex-
traordinary Slice I 11 i I nbingheiclt
My phone buzzes.
"I have Mr. Welch on the line for you."
"Put him through."
"Yes, sir."
"Welch. 1 need ,: background check "
Scilwckiy. Mar 14. 201 1
Anastasia Rose Steele
DOB:
Mobile No:
Social Security No:
Banking Details:
Occupation:
GPA:
Prior Education:
SAT Score:
Employment:
Sept 10, 1989, Montesano, WA
1 1 14 SW Green Street, Apartment 7,
Haven Heights, Vancouver, WA 98888
360 959 4352
987-65-4320
Wells Fargo Bank, Vancouver, WA 98888
AcctNo: 309361: S683. 16 balance
Undergraduate Student
WSU Vancouver College of Liberal Arts
- English Major
4.0
Montesano JR-SR High School
2150
Clayton's Hardware Store,
NW Vancouver Drive, Portland, OR (part-time)
Franklin A. Lambert
DOB: Sept 1, 1969, Deceased Sept 11, 1989
Carla May Wilks Adams
DOB: July 18, 1970
Religious Affiliations:
Sexual Orientation:
Relationships:
in Frank Lambert
-March 1, 1989, widowed Sept 11, 1989
m Raymond Steele
- June 6, 1990, divorced July 12, 2006
m Stephen M. Morton
- August 16, 2006, divorced January 31, 2007
m Robbin (Bob) Adams
- April 6, 2009
None Found
None Found
Not known
None ind
I pore over the executive summary for the hundredth lime since 1 received it
two days ago, lool i t n nsighl i i i lal Wiss -nastasia Rose
Steele. I cannot gel the damned woman out of m mind, and it's seriously begin-
ning to piss me off. This pasl week, during particular!} dull meetings, I've found
myself replaying the interview in my head. Her fumbling lingers on the recorder,
the mi she tucked lie' hair behind Iter ear. die lip biting. I t v The fucking lip bit-
Andnow, here I am. parked outside Clayton'?,, the modest hardware store on
the outskirts of Portland where she works.
I knew it would lead to this. All week ... I knew I'd have to sec her again.
I'd known it since she uttered my name in the elevator and disappeared into the
see if I'd forget about I i i n i ing for anything.
I've never actively pursued a woman before. The women I've had understood
what I expected of them. My fear now is that Miss Steele is just too young and
that she won't be interested in what I have to offer . . . will she? Will she even
make a good submissive? I shake my head. There's only one way to find out . . .
so here I am, a fucking ass. sitting in a suburban parking lot in a dreary part of
Portland.
Her background check has produced nothing remarkable — except the last
fact, which has been at the forefront of my mind. It's the reason I'm here. Why no
hoy/fiend. AZ/v.s Steele? Sexual orientation unknown perhaps she's gay. I snort,
thinking that unlikely I recall the question she asked during the interview, her
acute embarrassment, the a her -.kin Hushed a pale rose . . . Shit. I've been suf-
fering from these ludicrous thoughts since ! met her.
That ,v why you 're here.
I'm itching to see her again — those blue eyes have haunted me, even in my
dreams. I haven't mentioned Iter to Flynn. and I'm glad because I'm now behav-
ing like a stalker. Perhaps I should let him know. I roll my eyes — I don't want
him hounding me about his latest solution-based shit. I just need a distraction . . .
and right now the only distraction I « ant is « orking as a salesclerk in a hardware
You >e come till this way. Let's see if little Miss Steele is as appealing as vou
/■ciiicml : Shown'/ < I climl ut I i i nil icross the lot to the
front door. A bell chimes a. Hal electronic note as 1 w alk in.
The stoic is mu 1 i Mini 1 ! nl md ilthough it is al-
most lunchtimc the | is quiet, hot i i i lislcs and aisles of the
usual crap you'd expect I'd forgotten the possibilities that a hardware store could
present to someone like me. I mainly shop online for my needs, but while I'm
here, maybe I'll stock up on a few items . . . Velcro, split rings — Yeah. I'll find
the delectable Miss Steele and have some fun.
It takes me all of three seconds to spot her. She's hunched over the counter,
stunt intend} t i i i i i -a bagel. Unthink-
ing, she wipes a crumb from the corner of her lips and into her mouth and sucks
on her linger. My cock twitches in response, l-)ttk: What ant I. fourteen? My reac-
tion is fucking irril in I escent res| I stop if I fetter, fuck,
and flog her . . . and not necessarily in that order. Yeah. That's what I need.
She is thoroughly absorbed in her task, and it gives me an opportunity to
study her. Salacious thoughts aside, she is attractive, seriously attractive. I've re-
membered her well.
v k I i ii, i ! cs. pinning n elligei lisccrnfng eyes — the
bluest of blue that seem to sec right through me. It's as unnen ing as the first time
I met her. She just stares, shocked 1 think, and I don't know if this is a good re-
sponse or a bad response.
"Miss Steele. What a pleasant surprise."
"Mr. Grey," she win ers. I i md 111 od Ah ... a good response.
"I was in the area. 1 need to stock up on a few things. It's a pleasure to see
you again, Miss Stu 1 I pic r, She's drc cd light T-shirt and jeans,
not the shapeless shit she was wearing earlier this week. She's all long legs, small
waist, and perfect tits. She continues to gape, and I have to resist the urge to reach
out and tip her chin i i to close her moul llown •> mle just to see you,
and the way you look right n<n. ii was worth ihc journey.
"Ana. My name's Ana. What can I help you with, Mr. Grey?" She takes a
deep breath, squ u l i h 1 1 1 ii I i i i c icvv and gives me a
fake smile that I'm sure she reserves for customers.
Her lips part as she inhales sharply.
You 'd be amazed what I can do with a few cable ties, Miss Steele.
"We stock various lengths. Shall I show you '"
"Please. Lead the way, Miss Steele."
She steps out from I him he u lei ind g i i ird one of the aisles.
She's wearing chucks. Idly I wonder what she'd look like in skyscraper heels.
Laboutins . . . nothing but Laboutins.
"They're in with the electrical goods, aisle eight." I lei voice w av ers and she
blushes . . . again.
She is affected by me. Hope blooms in my chest. Not gay then. I smirk.
"After you," I murmur, holding my hand out for her to lead the way. Letting
her walk ahead giv cs me the space and lime to admire her fantastic ass. She really
is the whole pack i- I 11 iful h I i physical iltributcs I
value in a submissive. But the million-dollar question is, could she be a
submissive? She probably knows nothing of the lifestyle — my lifestyle — but I
very much want to introduce her to it. You are ceiling why ahead of yourself on
this deal, Grey.
"Are you in Porthuid on business?" -he asks, interrupting my thoughts. Her
voice is high, trying to feign disinterest. It makes me want to laugh, which is re-
freshing. Women rarely make mc laugh.
"I was visiting the WSU farming division based in Vancouver." I lie. Actu-
ally I'm here to see you. Miss Steele.
She flushes, and I feel like a shit.
I i It titti I
That, at least, is true.
"All part of your feed-lhe-woiid plan'.'" Her lips shift to a half-smile.
"Something like that." I mutter. Is she laughing at me? Oh I'd love to put a
l ] t 1 i ll ! i l I i it nil t til ! I li ll in
tcrview . . . now that would be novel; taking a prospect out to dinner.
We arrive at the cable tics, which arc arranged in an assortment of lengths
and colors. Abscntmindedl m; lingers trace o cr ill lackeb I could just ask her
out for dinner. Like on a date? Would she come? When I glance at her she's ex-
amining her knotted fingers. She can't look at me . . . this is promising. I select
the longer ties. They are more flexible after all — they can accommodate two
ankles and two wrists at once.
"These will do," I murmur, and she blushes, again.
"Is there anything eb ' 'I sa |uic I; : hei lit - icing super attentive
or she wants to get me out of the store, I don't know which.
"I'd like some masking tape."
"Are ou redecorating?"
I suppress my snort. "No, not redecorating." I haven't held a paintbrush in a
long time. The thought makes me smile, I have people to do all that shit.
"This way sIk i i m i king i^i i Iasking tape is in th i
ating aisle."
Come on Grey. You don't have long. Engage her in some conversation.
"Have you worked here long?" Of course, I already know the answer. Unlike
some people, I do m i > t li h in . i more — Christ, this girl is shy. /
don 't have a hope in hell. She turns quickly and walks down the aisle toward the
section labeled Decorating. I follow her eagerly. What am I, a fucking puppy?
"Four years," she mumbles as we reach [he masking tape. She bends down
and grasps l o rolls, each a diffcrenl w idlh.
"I'll lake that one," I say. The wider tape is much more effective as a gag. As
she passes it to me. the lips of our lingers touch, brief). It resonates in my groin.
Fuck!
She pales. "Anything else?" Her voice is soft and husky.
C lirisl. I'm Inn ing the same ell'eel on her that -he has on me. Maybe . . .
"Some rope, I think."
"This way." She quickK scoots up llic aisle gi ing me another chance to ap-
preciate her fine ass.
"What sort were you after? We have synthetic and natural filament rope . . .
twine . . . cable cord . . ."
Shit—stop. 1 groan inwardly. Hying to chase aa the image of her suspen-
ded from the ceiling in my playroom.
"I'll take five yards of the natural filament rope, please." It's coarser and
chafes more if you struggle against it ... my rope of choice.
A tremor runs through hot lingers, bul she ell'icicnlh measures out five
yards. Pulling a utility knife from her right pocket, she cuts the rope in one swift
gesture, coils it neat!;, . and ties it ol'i'w itlt a slipknot. Impressive.
"Were you a Girl Scout?"
"Organized group aeti ilies aren't really my thing. Mr ( ircy."
"What is your thing, Anastasia?" I catch her gaze, and her irises dilate as 1
"Books." she w hispers.
"( )h. iiti know . lite usual, flic classics. Bi ilish literature, mainly."
British literature? Bronte and Austen, I hot. All those romantic hearts and
flowers types. Fuck. That's not good.
"Anything else you need .'"
"I don't know. What else would you recommend?" I want to see her reaction.
hot a do-il-oursel - i sue i 1 s surp ed
I want to hoot with laughter. Oh baby, DIY is not my thing. I nod, stifling my
mirth. Her eyes flick down my body and I tense. She is checking me out! Fuck
"Coveralls," she blurts out.
It's the most unc III heard mil ol I smut mouth since
the "are yon gay" question.
"You wouldn't want to rain your clothing." She gestures to my jeans, embar-
rassed once more.
I can't resist. "I could always take them off."
"Cm." She Hushes heel red and gazes down al the floor.
"I'll take some coveralls. Heaven forbid I should rain any clothing," I mur-
mur to put her out of her misery. Without a word, she turns and walks briskly up
the aisle, and once again 1 follow in her enticing wake.
"Do you need anything else?" she says I i ith s h Hiding me a pair of
blue coveralls. She i i II cast down, face 11 lied C hrist, she does
"How's the article coming along'.'" i ask in die hope she might relax a little.
She looks up an 1 n f relieved lilc Finally. "I'm not writing it,
Katherine is. Miss Kavanagh. My roommate, she's the writer. She's very happy
with it. She's the editor of the magazine, and she was devastated that she couldn't
do the interview in person."
It's the longest sentence she's addressed to me since we first met, and she's
talking about someone else, not herself. Interesting.
any original photographs of you."
The tenacious Miss Kavanagh wants photographs. Publicity stills, eh? I can
do that. It will allow me to spend some more time with the delectable Miss Steele.
"What sort of photographs does slit wanl '"
"Well, I'm around. Tomorrow, perhaps ..." I can stay in Portland. Work
from a hotel. A room ai the lleaihnuin. perhaps. I ll need Taylor to come down,
bring my laptop and some clothes. Or Elliot — unless he's screwing around, which
is his usual MO over the weekend.
"You'd be willing to attend a photo shoot'.'" Site cannot contain her surprise.
I give her a brief nod. You 'd be amazed what I'd do to spend more time with
you, Miss Steele . . . in fact, so am I.
"Kate will be delighted — if we can find a photographer." She smiles and her
face lights up like i sumniei • hri he hicathtaking.
"Lei me know about tomorrow." ] pull my card onl ofmy wallet. "It has my
cell number on it. You'll need to call before ten in the morning." And if she
doesn't, I'll head on back to Seattle and forget about this stupid venture. The
thought depresses me.
"Okay." She continues to grin.
"Ana!" We both turn as a young man, casually but expensively dressed, ap-
pears at the far end of the aisle. He's all fucking smiles for Miss Anastasia Sleele.
Who the hell is this prick?
"Er . . . excuse me for a moment, Mr. Grey." She walks toward him, and the
fucker engulfs her in a gorilla-like hug. My blood runs cold. It's a primal re-
sponse. Get your motherfucking paws off her. I fist my hands and am only slightly
mollified when I see her make no move to hug him back.
They fall into a whispered conversation. Shit, maybe Welch's facts were
wrong. Maybe this guv is her boy friend, lie looks the right age. and he can't lake
his greedy little eyes off her. He holds her for a moment at arm's length, examin-
ing her, then stands with his arm leisurely resting on her shoulder. It's a seem-
ingly casual gesture, but I know he's staking a claim and telling me to back off.
Shit. I should go. Then she says something else to him and moves out of his
'Er P-vul tl I II
cr owns the place." She gives me an odd look that I don't understand and contin-
er that often. He's back from Princeton where he's studying business
The boss's broth iend. Tl li i f I feel is unexpec-
ted, and it makes me frown. This woman has ix-allr youcn under my shin.
"Mr. Clayton." My tone is deliberately clipped.
"Mr. Grey." He shakes my hand limply. Wet fucker. "Wait up — not the
Christian Grey of Grey Enterprises Holdings.?" In a heartbeat I watch him morph
from territorial to obsequious.
Yeah, that s me, you prick.
"Wow — is there anything I can get you?"
"Anastasia litis it covered. Mr. Clayton. She's been cr attentive." Now fuck
"Cool," he gushes all wide-eyed and deferential. "Catch you later, Ana."
"Sure, Paul," she sa>s. and lie ambles oil', lliank Christ. I watch him disap-
pear toward t lie hack of die More.
"Anything else. Mr. ( ireyT
"Just these items," 1 mutter. Shit, I'm out of time, and I still don't know if
I'm going to see her again. I have to know whether there's a hope in hell she
might consider what I have in mind. How can I ask her? Am 1 ready to take on a
new submissive, one who knows nolhing? Shit. She's going lo need subslanlial
training. 1 groan inwardly at all the interesting possibilities this presents . . .fuck
me, getting there is going to be half the fun. Will she even be interested? Or do I
have this all wrong?
She heads back to the cashier's desk and rings up my purchases, all the while
keeping her gaze cast down. Look at me, dammit! I want to see her beautiful blue
eyes again and gauge what she's thinking.
Il I I ! I 111 It II I
Is that all?
"Would you like a bag?" »he ask-,, -dinning into salesclcrk mode as I pass her
"Please. Anastasia." Her name — a beautiful name for a beautiful girl — rolls
off my tongue.
She packs the items briskly and efficiently into the carrier. This is it. I have to
go-
"You'll call me if you want me to do the photo shoot?"
"Good. Until tomorrow, perhaps." I can 't just leave. I have to let her know
tervicw." Delighting in Iter stunned expression. I sling the hag over my shoulder
and saunter out of the store.
Yes. against my better judgment, I want her. Now I have to wait . . . fucking
That's all . . . for now.
Thankyou, thank you, thankyou for reading.
EL James