Grey: Fifty Shades of Grey as Told by Christian(37)
Author: E.L. James

Grace turns and gets to her feet.

“Mother, this is Anastasia Steele. Anastasia, this is Grace Trevelyan-Grey.”

They shake hands.

“What a pleasure to meet you,” Grace says with a little too much enthusiasm for my liking.

“Dr. Trevelyan-Grey,” Ana says politely.

“Call me Grace,” she says, all at once amiable and informal.

What? Already?

Grace continues, “I’m usually Dr. Trevelyan, and Mrs. Grey is my mother-in-law.” She winks at Ana and sits down. I motion to Ana and pat the cushion beside me, and she comes and takes a seat.

“So how did you two meet?” Grace asks.

“Anastasia interviewed me for the student paper at WSU because I’m conferring the degrees there this week.”

“So you’re graduating this week?” Grace beams at Ana.

“Yes.”

Ana’s cell phone starts ringing and she excuses herself to answer it.

“And I’ll be giving the commencement address,” I say to Grace, but my attention is on Ana.

Who is it?

“Look, José, now’s not a good time,” I hear her say.

That fucking photographer. What does he want?

“I left a message for Elliot, then found out he was in Portland. I haven’t seen him since last week,” Grace is saying.

Ana hangs up.

Grace continues as Ana approaches us again, “…and Elliot called to say you were around—I haven’t seen you for two weeks, darling.”

“Did he now?” I remark.

What does the photographer want?

“I thought we might have lunch together, but I can see you have other plans, and I don’t want to interrupt your day.” Grace stands, and for once I’m grateful that she’s intuitive and can read a situation. She offers me her cheek again. I kiss her good-bye.

“I have to drive Anastasia back to Portland.”

“Of course, darling.” Grace turns her bright—and if I’m not mistaken, grateful—smile on Ana.

It’s irritating.

“Anastasia, it’s been such a pleasure.” Grace beams and takes Ana’s hand. “I do hope we meet again.”

“Mrs. Grey?” Taylor appears on the threshold of the room.

“Thank you, Taylor,” Grace responds, and he escorts her from the room and through the double doors to the foyer.

Well, that was interesting.

My mother’s always thought I was gay. But as she’s always respected my boundaries, she’s never asked me.

Well, now she knows.

Ana is worrying her bottom lip, radiating anxiety…as she should be.

“So the photographer called?” I sound gruff.

“Yes.”

“What did he want?”

“Just to apologize, you know—for Friday.”

“I see.” Maybe he wants another shot at her. The thought is displeasing.

Taylor clears his throat. “Mr. Grey, there’s an issue with the Darfur shipment.”

Shit. This is what I get for not checking my e-mail this morning. I’ve been too preoccupied with Ana.

“Charlie Tango back at Boeing Field?” I ask Taylor.

“Yes, sir.”

Taylor acknowledges Ana with a nod. “Miss Steele.”

She gives him a broad smile and he leaves.

“Does he live here? Taylor?” Ana asks.

“Yes.”

Heading into the kitchen, I pick up my phone and quickly check my e-mail. There’s a flagged message from Ros and a couple of texts. I call her immediately.

“Ros, what’s the issue?”

“Christian, hi. The report back from Darfur is not good. They can’t guarantee the safety of the shipments or road crew, and the State Department isn’t willing to sanction the relief without the NGO’s backing.”

Fuck this.

“I’m not having either crew put at risk.” Ros knows this.

“We could try and pull in mercenaries,” she says.

“No, cancel—”

“But the cost,” she protests.

“We’ll air-drop instead.”

“I knew that’s what you’d say, Christian. I have a plan in the works. It will be costly. In the meantime, the containers can go to Rotterdam out of Philly and we can take it from there. That’s it.”

“Good.” I hang up. More support from the State Department would be helpful. I resolve to call Blandino to discuss this further.

My attention reverts to Miss Steele, who’s standing in my living room, regarding me warily. I need to get us back on track.

Yes. The contract. That’s the next step in our negotiation.

In my study, I gather the papers that are on my desk and stuff them into a manila envelope.

Ana’s not moved from where I left her in the living room. Perhaps she’s been thinking about the photographer…my mood takes a nosedive.

“This is the contract.” I hold up the envelope. “Read it, and we’ll discuss it next weekend. May I suggest you do some research, so you know what’s involved?” She looks from the manila envelope to me, her face pale. “That’s if you agree, and I really hope you do,” I add.

“Research?”

“You’ll be amazed what you can find on the Internet.”

She frowns.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I don’t have a computer. I usually use the computers at school. I’ll see if I can use Kate’s laptop.”

No computer? How can a student not have a computer? Is she that broke? I hand her the envelope. “I’m sure I can, um—lend you one. Get your things, we’ll drive back to Portland and grab some lunch on the way. I need to dress.”

“I’ll just make a call,” she says, her voice soft and hesitant.

“The photographer?” I snap. She looks guilty.

What the hell? “I don’t like to share, Miss Steele. Remember that.” I storm out of the room before I say anything else.

Is she hung up on him?

Was she just using me to break her in?

Fuck.

Maybe it’s the money. That’s a depressing thought…though she doesn’t strike me as a gold digger. She was quite vehement about me not buying her any clothing. I remove my jeans and put on a pair of boxer briefs. My Brioni tie is on the floor. I stoop to pick it up.

She took to being tied up well…There’s hope, Grey. Hope.

I stuff the tie and two others into a messenger bag along with socks, underwear, and condoms.

What am I doing?