“itis,isn’tit?”hegrins,glancingatme.andforafleetingmoment,heseemshisage;young,carefree,andheart-stoppinglybeautiful.isthisthekeytohim?music?isitandlistentotheangelicvoices,teasingandseducingme.

“canihearthatagain?”

“ofcourse.”christianpushesabutton,andthemusiciscaressingmeoncemore.it’sagentle,slow,sweet,andsureassaultonmyauralsenses.

“youlikeclassicalmusic?”iask,hopingforarareinsightintohispersonalpreferences.

“mytasteiseclectic,anastasia,everythingfromthomastallistothekingsofleon.itdependsonmymood.you?”

“metoo.thoughidon’tknowwhothomastallisis.”

heturnsandgazesatmebrieflybeforehiseyesarebackontheroad.

“i’llplayitforyousometime.he’sasixteenthcenturybritishcomposer.tudor,churchchoralmusic.”christiangrinsatme.“soundsveryesoteric,iknow,butit’salsomagical,anastasia.”

hepressesabutton,andthekingsofleonstartsinging.hmm…thisiknow.sexonfire.howappropriate.themusicisinterruptedbythesoundofacellphoneringingoverthemp3speakers.christianhitsabuttononthesteeringwheel.

“grey,”hesnaps.he’ssobrusque.

“mr.grey,it’swelchhere.iha一vetheinformationyourequire.”arasping,disembodiedvoicecomesoverthespeakers.

“good.emailittome.anythingtoadd?”

“nosir.”

hepressesthebutton,thenthecallceasesandthemusicisback.nogoodbyeorthanks.i’msogladthatineverseriouslyentertainedthethoughtofworkingforhim.ishudderattheveryidea.he’sjusttoocontrollingandcoldwithhisemployees.themusiccutsoffagainforthephone.

“grey.”

“thendahasbeenemailedtoyou,mr.grey.”awoman’svoice.

“good.that’sall,andrea.”

“goodday,sir.”

christianhangsupbypressingabuttononthesteeringwheel.themusicisonverybrieflywhenthephoneringsagain.holyhell,isthishislife,constantnaggingphonecalls?

“grey,”hesnaps.

“hi,christian,d’yougetlaid?”

“hello,elliot–i’monspeakerphone,andi’mnotaloneinthecar,”christiansighs.

“who’swithyou?”

christianrollshiseyes.

“anastasiasteele.”

“hi,ana!”

ana!

“hello,elliot.”

“heardalotaboutyou,”elliotmurmurshuskily.christianfrowns.

“don’tbelieveawordkatesays.”

elliotlaughs.

“i’mdroppinganastasiaoffnow.”christianemphasizesmyname.“shallipickyouup?”

“sure.”

“seeyoushortly.”christianhangsup,andthemusicisback.

“whydoyouinsistoncallingmeanastasia?”

“becauseit’syourname.”

“ipreferana.”

“doyounow?”hemurmurs.

wearealmostatmyapartment.it’snottakenlong.

“anastasia,”hemuses.iscowlathim,butheignoresmyexpression.“whathappenedintheelevator-itwon’thappenagain,well,notunlessit’spremeditated.”

hepullsupoutsidemyduplex.ibelatedlyrealizehe’snotaskedmewhereilive-yetheknows.butthenhesentthebooks,ofcourseheknowswhereilive.whatable,cell-phone-tracking,helicopterowning,stalkerwouldn’t.

whywon’thekissmeagain?ipoutatthethought.idon’tunderstand.honestly,hissurnameshouldbecryptic,notgrey.heclimbsoutofthecar,walkingwitheasy,long-leggedgraceroundtomysidetoopenthedoor,everthegentleman-exceptperhapsinrare,preciousmomentsinelevators.iflushatthememoryofhismouthonmine,andthethoughtthati’dbeenunabletotouchhimentersmymind.iwantedtorunmyfingersthroughhisdecadent,untidyhair,buti’dbeenunabletomovemyhands.iamretrospectivelyfrustrated.

“ilikedwhathappenedintheelevator,”imurmurasiclimboutofthecar.i’mnotsureifihearanaudiblegasp,butichoosetoignoreitandheadupthestepstothefrontdoor.

kateandelliotaresittingatourdiningtable.thefourteen-thousand-dollarbooksha一vedisappeared.thankhea一vens.iha一veplansforthem.shehasthemostun-kateridiculousgrinonherface,andshelooksmussedupinasexykindofway.christianfollowsmeintothelivingarea,andinspiteofheri’ve-been-ha一ving-a-good-time-all-nightgrin,kateeyeshimsuspiciously.

“hiana.”sheleapsuptohugme,thenholdsmeatarm’slengthsoshecanexamineme.shefrownsandturnstochristian.

“goodmorning,christian,”shesays,andhertoneisalittlehostile.

“misska一vanagh,”hesaysinhisstiffformalway.

“christian,hernameiskate,”elliotgrumbles.

“kate.”christiangivesherapolitenodandglaresatelliotwhogrinsandrisestohugmetoo.

“hi,ana,”hesmiles,hisblueeyestwinkling,andilikehimimmediately.he’sobviouslynothinglikechristian,butthenthey’readoptedbrothers.

“hi,elliot,”ismileathim,andi’mawarethati’mbitingmylip.

“elliot,we’dbettergo.”christiansaysmildly.

“sure.”heturnstokateandpullsherintohisarmsandgivesheralonglingeringkiss.

jeez…getaroom.istareatmyfeet,embarrassed.iglanceupatchristian,andhe’swatchingmeintently.inarrowmyeyesathim.whycan’tyoukissmelikethat?elliot

continuestokisskate,sweepingheroffherfeetanddippingherinadramaticholdsothatherhairtouchesthegroundashekissesherhard.

“laters,baby,”hegrins.

katejustmelts.i’veneverseenhermeltbefore–thewordscomelyandcompliantcometomind.compliantkate,boy,elliotmustbegood.christianrollshiseyesandstaresdownatme,hisexpressionunreadable,althoughmaybehe’smildlyamused.hetucksastraystrandofmyhairthathasworkeditswayfreefrommyponytailbehindmyear.mybreathhitchesatthecontact,andileanmyheadslightlyintohisfingers.hiseyessoften,andherunshisthumbacrossmylowerlip.mybloodsearsinmyveins.andalltooquickly,histouchisgone.

“laters,baby,”hemurmurs,andiha一vetolaughbecauseit’ssounlikehim.buteventhoughiknowhe’sbeingirreverent,theendearmenttugsatsomethingdeepinsideme.

“i’llpickyouupateight.”heturnstolea一ve,openingthefrontdoorandsteppingoutontotheporch.elliotfollowshimtothecarbutturnsandblowskateanotherkiss,andifeelanunwelcomepangofjealousy.

“so,didyou?”kateasksaswewatchthemclimbintothecaranddriveoff,theburningcuriosityevidentinhervoice.

“no,”isnapirritably,hopingthatwillhaltthequestions.weheadbackintotheapartment.“youobviouslydid,though.”ican’tcontainmyenvy.katealwaysmanagestoensnaremen.sheisirresistible,beautiful,sexy,funny,forward…allthethingsthati’mnot.butheransweringgrinisinfectious.

“andi’mseeinghimagainthisevening.”sheclapsherhandsandjumpsupanddownlikeasmallchild.shecannotcontainherexcitementandhappiness,andican’thelpbutfeelhappyforher.ahappykate…thisisgoingtobeinteresting.

“christianistakingmetoseattlethisevening.”

“seattle?”

“yes.”

“maybeyouwillthen?”

“oh,ihopeso.”

“youlikehimthen?”

“yes.”

“likehimenoughto…?”

“yes.”

sheraiseshereyebrows.

“wow.anasteele,finallyfallingforaman,andit’schristiangrey–hot,sexybillionaire.”

“ohyeah–it’sallaboutthemoney.”ismirk,andwebothfallintoafitofgiggles.

“isthatanewblouse?”sheasks,andiletherha一vealltheunexcitingdetailsaboutmynight.

“hashekissedyouyet?”sheasksasshemakescoffee.

iblush.

“once.”

“once!”shescoffs.

inod,rathershamefaced.

“he’sveryreserved.”

shefrowns.

“that’sodd.”

“idon’tthinkoddcoversitreally,”imurmur.

“weneedtomakesureyou’resimplyirresistibleforthisevening,”shesayswithdetermination.

ohno…thissoundslikeitwillbetimeconsuming,humiliating,andpainful.

“iha一vetobeatworkinanhour.”

“icanworkwiththattimeframe.comeon.”kategrabsmyhandandtakesmeintoherbedroom.

thedaydragsatclayton’seventhoughwe’rebusy.we’vehitthesummerseason,soiha一vetospendtwohoursrestockingtheshelvesoncetheshopisclosed.it’smindlesswork,anditgivesmetoomuchtimetothink.i’venotreallyhadachanceallday.

underkate’stirelessandfranklyintrusiveinstruction,mylegsandunderarmsaresha一vedtoperfection,myeyebrowsplucked,andiambuffedallover.ithasbeenamostunpleasantexperience.butsheassuresmethatthisiswhatmenexpectthesedays.whatelsewillheexpect?iha一vetoconvincekatethatthisiswhatiwanttodo.forsomestrangereason,shedoesn’ttrusthim,maybebecausehe’ssostiffandformal.shesaysshecan’tputherfingeronit,butiha一vepromisedtotextherwheniarriveinseattle.iha一ven’ttoldheraboutthehelicopter,she’dfreak.

ialsoha一vethejoséissue.he’sleftthreemessagesandsevenmissedcallsonmycell.he’salsocalledhometwice.katehasbeenveryvagueastowhereiam.he’llknowshe’scoveringforme.katedoesn’tdovague.butiha一vedecidedtolethimstew.i’mstilltooangrywithhim.

christianmentionedsomekindofwrittenpaperwork,andidon’tknowifhewasjokingorifi’mgoingtoha一vetosignsomething.it’ssofrustratingtryingtoguess.andontopofalltheangst,icanbarelycontainmyexcitementormynerves.tonight’sthenight!afterallthistime,amireadyforthis?myinnergoddessglaresatme,tappinghersmallfootimpatiently.she’sbeenreadyforthisforyears,andshe’sreadyforanythingwithchristiangrey,butistilldon’tunderstandwhatheseesinme…mouseyanasteele-itmakesnosense.

heispunctual,ofcourse,andwaitingformewhenilea一veclayton’s.heclimbsoutofthebackoftheauditoopenthedoorandsmileswarmlyatme.

“goodevening,misssteele,”hesays.

“mr.grey.”inodpolitelytohimasiclimbintothebackseatofthecar.taylorissittinginthedriver’sseat.

“hello,taylor,”isay.

“goodevening,misssteele,”hisvoiceispoliteandprofessional.christianclimbsintheothersideandclaspsmyhand,givingitagentlesqueezethatifeelallthewaythoughmybody.

“howwaswork?”heasks.

“verylong,”ireply,andmyvoiceishusky,toolow,andfullofneed.

“yes,it’sbeenalongdayformetoo.”histoneisserious.

“whatdidyoudo?”imanage.

“iwenthikingwithelliot.”histhumbstrokesmyknuckles,backandforth,andmyheartskipsabeatasmybreathingaccelerates.howdoeshedothistome?he’sonlytouchingaverysmallareaofmybody,andthehormonesareflying.

thedrivetotheheliportisshortand,beforeiknowit,wearrive.iwonderwherethefabledhelicoptermightbe.we’reinabuilt-upareaofthecityandeveniknowhelicoptersneedspacetotakeoffandland.taylorparks,climbsout,andopensmycardoor.christianisbesidemeinaninstantandtakesmyhandagain.

“ready?”heasks.inodandwanttosayforanything,butican’tarticulatethewordsasi’mtoonervous,tooexcited.

“taylor.”henodscurtlyathisdriver,andweheadintothebuilding,straighttoasetofelevators.elevator!thememoryofourkissthismorningcomesbacktohauntme.iha一vethoughtofnothingelseallday.daydreamingattheregisteratclayton’s.twicemr.claytonhadtoshoutmynametobringmebacktoearth.tosayi’vebeendistractedwouldbetheunderstatementoftheyear.christianglancesdownatme,aslightsmileonhislips.ha!he’sthinkingaboutittoo.

“it’sonlythreefloors,”hesaysdryly,hisgrayeyesdancingwithamusement.he’stelepathicsurely.it’sspooky.

itrytokeepmyfaceimpassiveasweentertheelevator.thedoorsclose,andit’sthere,theweirdelectricalattractioncracklingbetweenus,ensla一vingme.iclosemyeyesinavainattempttoignoreit.hetightenshisgriponmyhand,andfivesecondslaterthedoorsopenontotheroofofthebuilding.andthereitis,awhitehelicopterwiththenamegreyenterprisesholdingsinc.writteninbluewiththecompanylogoontheside.surelythisismisuseofcompanyproperty.

heleadsmetoasmallofficewhereanoldtimersitsbehindthedesk.

“here’syourflightplan,mr.grey.allexternalchecksaredone.it’sreadyandwaitingsir.you’refreetogo.”

“thankyou,joe.”christiansmileswarmlyathim.

oh.someonedeservingofthepolitetreatmentfromchristian,perhapshe’snotanemployee.istareattheoldguyinawe.

“let’sgo,”christiansays,andwemakeourwaytowardthehelicopter.whenwe’reupclose,it’smuchbiggerthanithought.iexpectedittobearoadsterversionfortwo,butithasatleastsevenseats.christianopensthedooranddirectsmetooneoftheseatsattheveryfront.

“sit–don’ttouchanything,”heordersasheclambersinbehindme.

heshutsthedoorwithaslam.i’mgladthattheareaisfloodlit,otherwisei’dfinditdifficulttoseeinsidethesmallcockpit.isitdowninmyallottedseat,andhecrouchesbesidemetostrapmeintotheharness.it’safour-pointharnesswithallthestrapsconnectingtoonecentralbuckle.hetightensbothoftheupperstraps,soicanhardlymove.he’ssocloseandintentonwhathe’sdoing.ificouldonlyleanforward,mynosewouldbeinhishair.hesmells,clean,fresh,hea一venly,buti’mfastenedsecurelyintomyseatandeffectivelyimmobile.heglancesupandsmiles,likehe’senjoyinghisusualprivatejoke,

hisgrayeyesheated.he’ssotantalizinglyclose.iholdmybreathashepullsatoneoftheupperstraps.

“you’resecure,noescaping,”hewhispers,hiseyesarescorching.“breathe,anastasia,”headdssoftly.reachingup,hecaressesmycheek,runninghislongfingersdowntomychinwhichhegraspsbetweenhisthumbandforefinger.heleansforwardandplantsabrief,chastekissonmylips,lea一vingmereeling,myinsidesclenchingatthethrilling,unexpectedtouchofhislips.

“ilikethisharness,”hewhispers.

what?

hesitsdownbesidemeandbuckleshimselfintohisseat,thenbeginsaprotractedprocedureofcheckinggaugesandflippingswitchesandbuttonsfromthemind-bogglingarrayofdialsandlightsandswitchesinfrontofme.littlelightswinkandflashfromvariousdials,andthewholeoftheinstrumentpanellightsup.

“putyourcanson,”hesays,pointingtoasetofheadphonesinfrontofme.ipopthemon,andtherotorbladesstart.theyaredeafening.heputshisheadphonesonandcontinuesflippingvariousswitches.

“i’mjustgoingthroughallthepre-flightchecks.”christian’sdisembodiedvoiceisinmyearsthroughtheheadphones.iturnandgrinathim.

“doyouknowwhatyouaredoing?”iask.heturnsandsmilesatme.

“i’vebeenafullyqualifiedpilotforfouryears,anastasia,you’resafewithme.”hegivesmeawolfishgrin.“well,whilewe’reflying,”headdsandwinksatme.

winking…christian!

“areyouready?”

inodwideeyed.

“okay,tower.pdxthisischarlietangogolf–golfechohotel,clearedfortake-off.pleaseconfirm,over.”

“charlietango-youareclear.pdxtocall,proceedtoonefourthousand,headingzeroonezero,over.”

“rogertower,charlietangoset,overandout.herewego,”headdstome,andthehelicopterrisesslowlyandsmoothlyintotheair.

portlanddisappearsinfrontusasweheadintousairspace,thoughmystomachremainsfirmlyinoregon.whoa!allthebrightlightsshrinkuntiltheyaretwinklingsweetlybelowus.it’slikelookingoutfrominsideafishbowl.oncewe’rehigher,therereallyisnothingtosee.it’spitchblack,noteventhemoontoshedanylightonourjourney.howcanheseewherewe’regoing?

“eerieisn’tit?”christian’svoiceisinmyears.

“howdoyouknowyou’regoingtherightway?”

“here.”hepointshislongindexfingeratoneofthegauges,anditshowsanelectroniccompass.“thisisanec135eurocopter.oneofthesafestinitsclass.it’sequippedfornightflight.”heglancesandgrinsatme.

“there’sahelipadontopofthebuildingilivein.that’swherewe’reheading.”

ofcoursethere’sahelipadwherehelives.iamsooutofmyleaguehere.hisfaceissoftlyilluminatedbythelightsontheinstrumentpanel.he’sconcentratinghard,andhe’scontinuallyglancingatthevariousdialsinfrontofhim.idrinkinhisfeaturesfrom

beneathmylashes.hehasabeautifulprofile.straightnose,squarejawed–i’dliketorunmytonguealonghisjaw.hehasn’tsha一ved,andhisstubblemakestheprospectdoublytempting.hmm…i’dliketofeelhowroughitisbeneathmytongue,myfingers,againstmyface.

“whenyouflyatnight,youflyblind.youha一vetotrusttheinstrumentation,”heinterruptsmyeroticreverie.

“howlongwilltheflightbe?”imanagebreathlessly.iwasn’tthinkingaboutsexatall,no,noway.

“lessthananhour,thewindisinourfa一vor.”

hmm,lessthananhourtoseattle…that’snotbadgoing,nowonderwe’reflying.

iha一velessthananhourbeforethebigreveal.allthemusclesclenchdeepinmybelly.iha一veaseriouscaseofbutterflies.theyareflourishinginmystomach.holyshit,whathashegotinstoreforme?

“youokay,anastasia?”

“yes.”myanswerisshort,clipped,squeezedoutthroughmynerves.

ithinkhesmiles,butit’sdifficulttotellinthedarkness.christianflicksyetanotherswitch.

“pdxthisischarlietangonowatonefourthousand,over.”heexchangesinformationwithairtrafficcontrol.itallsoundsveryprofessionaltome.ithinkwe’removingfromportland’sairspacetoseattleinternationalairport’s.

“understoodsea-tac,standingbyoverandout.”

“look,overthere.”hepointstoasmallpin-pointoflightinthefardistance.“that’sseattle.”

“doyoualwaysimpresswomenthisway?comeandflyinmyhelicopter?”iask,genuinelyinterested.

“i’veneverboughtagirluphere,anastasia.it’sanotherfirstforme.”hisvoiceisquiet,serious.

oh,thatwasanunexpectedanswer.anotherfirst?ohthesleepingthing,perhaps?

“areyouimpressed?”

“i’mawed,christian.”

hesmiles.

“awed?”andforabriefmoment,he’shisageagain.

inod.

“you’rejustso…competent.”

“why,thankyou,misssteele,”hesayspolitely.ithinkhe’spleased,buti’mnotsure.

werideintothedarknightinsilenceforawhile.thebrightspotthatisseattleisslowlygettingbigger.

“sea-tactowertocharlietango.flightplantoescalainplace.pleaseproceed.andstandby.over.”

“thisischarlietango,understoodsea-tac.standingby,overandout.”

“youobviouslyenjoythis,”imurmur.

“what?”heglancesatme.helooksquizzicalinthehalf-lightoftheinstruments.

“flying,”ireply.

“itrequirescontrolandconcentration…howcouldinotloveit?though,myfa一voriteissoaring.”

“soaring?”

“yes.glidingtothelayperson.glidersandhelicopters–iflythemboth.”

“oh.”expensivehobbies.irememberhimtellingmeduringtheinterview.ilikereadingandoccasionallygoingtothemovies.iamoutofmydepthhere.

“charlietangocomeinplease,over.”thedisembodiedvoiceofairtrafficcontrolinterruptsmyreverie.christiananswers,soundingincontrolandconfident.

seattleisgettingcloser.weareontheveryoutskirtsnow.wow!itlooksabsolutelystunning.seattleatnight,fromthesky…

“looksgood,doesn’tit?”christianmurmurs.

inodenthusiastically.itlooksotherworldly–unreal–andifeellikei’monagiantfilmset,josé’sfa一voritefilmmaybe,‘bladerunner.’thememoryofjosé’sattemptedkisshauntsme.i’mbeginningtofeelabitcruelnotcallinghimback.hecanwaituntiltomorrow…surely.

“we’llbethereinafewminutes,”christianmutters,andsuddenlymybloodispoundinginmyearsasmyheartbeatacceleratesandadrenalinespikesthroughmysystem.hestartstalkingtoairtrafficcontrolagain,butiamnolongerlistening.ohmy…ithinki’mgoingtofaint.myfateisinhishands.

wearenowflyingamongstthebuildings,andupaheadicanseeatallskyscraperwithahelipadontop.thewordescalaispaintedinwhiteontopofthebuilding.it’sgettingnearerandnearer,biggerandbigger…likemyanxiety.god,ihopeidon’tlethimdown.he’llfindmelackinginsomeway.iwishi’dlistenedtokateandborrowedoneofherdresses,butilikemyblackjeans,andi’mwearingasoftmintgreenshirtandkate’sblackjacket.ilooksmartenough.igriptheedgeofmyseattighterandtighter.icandothis.icandothis.ichantthismantraastheskyscraperloomsbelowus.

thehelicopterslowsandhovers,andchristiansetsitdownonthehelipadontopofthebuilding.myheartisinmymouth.ican’tdecideifit’sfromnervousanticipation,reliefthatwe’vearrivedalive,orfearthatiwillfailinsomeway.heswitchestheignitionoffandtherotorbladesslowandquietuntilallihearisthesoundofmyownerraticbreathing.christiantakeshisheadphonesoff,andreachesacrossandpullsmineofftoo.

“we’rehere,”hesayssoftly.

hislookissointense,halfinshadowandhalfinthebrightwhitelightfromthelandinglights.darkknightandwhiteknight,it’safittingmetaphorforchristian.helooksstrained.hisjawisclenchedandhiseyesaretight.heunfastenshisseatbeltandreachesovertounbucklemine.hisfaceisinchesfrommine.

“youdon’tha一vetodoanythingyoudon’twanttodo.youknowthatdon’tyou?”histoneissoearnest,desperateeven,hisgrayeyesimpassioned.hetakesmebysurprise.

“i’dneverdoanythingididn’twanttodo,christian.”andasisaythewords,idon’tquitefeeltheirconvictionbecauseatthismomentintime–i’dprobablydoanythingforthismanseatedbesideme.butthisdoesthetrick.he’smollified.

heeyesmewarilyforamomentandsomehow,eventhoughhe’ssotall,hemanagestoeasehiswaygracefullytothedoorofthehelicopterandopenit.hejumpsout,waitingformetofollow,andtakesmyhandasiclamberdownontothehelipad.it’sverywindy

ontopofthebuilding,andi’mnervousaboutthefactthati’mstandingatleastthirtystorieshighinanunenclosedspace.christianwrapshisarmaroundmywaist,pullingmetightlyagainsthim.

“come,”heshoutsabovethenoiseofthewind.hedragsmeovertoanelevatorshaftand,aftertappinganumberintoakeypad,thedoorsopen.it’swarminsideandallmirroredglass.icanseechristiantoinfinityeverywhereilook,andthewonderfulthingis,he’sholdingmetoinfinitytoo.christiantapsanothercodeintothekeypad,thenthedoorscloseandtheelevatordescends.

momentslater,we’reinanall-whitefoyer.inthemiddleisaround,darkwoodtable,andonitisanunbelievablyhugebunchofwhiteflowers.onthewallstherearepaintings,everywhere.heopenstwodoubledoors,andthewhitethemecontinuesthroughthewidecorridoranddirectlyoppositewhereapalatialroomopensup.it’sthemainlivingarea,doubleheight.hugeistoosmallawordforit.thefarwallisglassandleadsontoabalconythatoverlooksseattle.

totherightisanimposing‘u’shapedsofathatcouldsittenadultscomfortably.itfacesastate-of-the-artstainlesssteel–ormaybeplatinumforalliknow-modernfireplace.thefireislitandflaminggently.ontheleftbesideus,bytheentryway,isthekitchenarea.allwhitewithdarkwoodworktopsandalargebreakfastbarwhichseatssix.

nearthekitchenarea,infrontoftheglasswall,isadiningtablesurroundedbysixteenchairs.andtuckedinthecornerisafullsize,shinyblackgrandpiano.ohyes…heprobablyplaysthepianotoo.thereisartofallshapesandsizesonallthewalls.infact,thisapartmentlooksmorelikeagallerythanaplacetolive.

“canitakeyourjacket?”christianasks.ishakemyhead.i’mstillcoldfromthewindonthehelipad.

“wouldyoulikeadrink?”heasks.iblinkathim.afterlastnight!ishetryingtobefunny?foronesecond,ithinkaboutaskingforamargarita–butidon’tha一vethenerve.

“i’mgoingtoha一veaglassofwhitewine,wouldyouliketojoinme?”

“yes,please,”imurmur.

iamstandinginthisenormousroomfeelingoutofplace.iwalkovertotheglasswall,andirealizethatthelowerhalfofthewallopensconcertina-styleontothebalcony.seattleislitupandlivelyinthebackground.iwalkbacktothekitchenarea–ittakesafewseconds,it’ssofarfromtheglasswall–andchristianisopeningabottleofwine.he’sremovedhisjacket.

“pouillyfuméokaywithyou?”

“iknownothingaboutwine,christian.i’msureitwillbefine.”myvoiceissoftandhesitant.myheartisthumping.iwanttorun.thisisseriouslyrich.seriouslyover-the-topbillgatesstylewealthy.whatamidoinghere?youknowverywellwhatyou’redoinghere-mysubconscioussneersatme.yes,iwanttobeinchristiangrey’sbed.

“here.”hehandsmeaglassofwine.eventheglassesarerich…hea一vy,contemporary,crystal.itakeasip,andthewineislight,crisp,anddelicious.

“you’reveryquiet,andyou’renotevenblushing.infact–ithinkthisisthepalesti’veeverseenyou,anastasia,”hemurmurs.“areyouhungry?”

ishakemyhead.notforfood.

“it’saverybigplaceyouha一vehere.”

“big?”

“big.”

“it’sbig,”heagrees,andhiseyesglowwithamusement.itakeanothersipofwine.

“doyouplay?”ipointmychinatthepiano.

“yes.”

“well?”

“yes.”

“ofcourseyoudo.isthereanythingyoucan’tdowell?”

“yes…afewthings.”hetakesasipofhiswine.hedoesn’ttakehiseyesoffme.ifeelthemfollowingmeasiturnandglancearoundthisvastroom.roomisthewrongword.it’snotaroom–it’samissionstatement.

“doyouwanttosit?”

inod,andhetakesmyhandandleadsmetothelargeoff-whitecouch.asisit,i’mstruckbythefactthatifeelliketessdurbeyfieldlookingatthenewhousethatbelongstothenotoriousalecd’urberville.thethoughtmakesmesmile.

“what’ssoamusing?”hesitsdownbesideme,turningtofaceme.herestshisheadonhisrighthand,hiselbowproppedonthebackofthecouch.

“whydidyougivemetessofthed’urbervillesspecifically?”iask.christianstaresatmeforamoment.ithinkhe’ssurprisedbymyquestion.

“well,yousaidyoulikedthomashardy.”

“isthattheonlyreason?”evenicanhearthedisappointmentinmyvoice.hismouthpressesintoahardline.

“itseemedappropriate.icouldholdyoutosomeimpossiblyhighideallikeangelclareordebaseyoucompletelylikealecd’urberville,”hemurmurs,andhisgrayeyesflashdarkanddangerous.

“ifthereareonlytwochoices,i’lltakethedebasement.”iwhisper,gazingathim.mysubconsciousisstaringatmeinawe.hegasps.

“anastasia,stopbitingyourlip,please.it’sverydistracting.youdon’tknowwhatyou’resaying.”

“that’swhyi’mhere.”

hefrowns.

“yes.wouldyouexcusemeamoment?”hedisappearsthroughawidedoorwayonthefarsideoftheroom.he’sgoneforacoupleofminutesandreturnswithadocument.

“thisisanon-disclosureagreement.”heshrugsandhasthegracetolookalittleembarrassed.“mylawyerinsistsonit.”hehandsittome.i’mcompletelybemused.“ifyou’regoingforoptiontwo,debasement,you’llneedtosignthis.”

“andifidon’twanttosignanything?”

“thenit’sangelclarehighideals,well,formostofthebookanyway.”

“whatdoesthisagreementmean?”

“itmeansyoucannotdiscloseanythingaboutus.anything,toanyone.”

istareathimindisbelief.holyshit.it’sbad,reallybad,andnowi’mverycurioustoknow.

“okay.i’llsign.”

hehandsmeapen.

“aren’tyouevengoingtoreadit?”

“no.”

hefrowns.

“anastasia,youshouldalwaysreadanythingyousign,”headmonishesme.

“christian,whatyoufailtounderstandisthatiwouldn’ttalkaboutustoanyone,anyway.evenkate.soit’simmaterialwhetherisignanagreementornot.ifitmeanssomuchtoyou,oryourlawyer…whomyouobviouslytalkto,thenfine.i’llsign.”

hegazesdownatme,andhenodsgra一vely.

“fairpointwellmade,misssteele.”

ila一vishlysignonthedottedlineofbothcopiesandhandonebacktohim.foldingtheother,iplaceitmypurseandtakealargeswigofmywine.i’msoundingsomuchbra一verthani’mactuallyfeeling.

“doesthismeanyou’regoingtomakelovetometonight,christian?”holyshit.didijustsaythat?hismouthdropsopenslightly,butherecoversquickly.

“no,anastasiaitdoesn’t.firstly,idon’tmakelove.ifuck…hard.secondly,there’salotmorepaperworktodo,andthirdly,youdon’tyetknowwhatyou’reinfor.youcouldstillrunforthehills.come,iwanttoshowyoumyplayroom.”

mymouthdropsopen.fuckhard!holyshit,thatsoundsso…hot.butwhyarewelookingataplayroom?iammystified.

“youwanttoplayonyourxbox?”iask.helaughs,loudly.

“no,anastasia,noxbox,noplaystation.come.”hestands,holdingouthishand.ilethimleadmebackouttothecorridor.ontherightofthedoubledoors,wherewecamein,anotherdoorleadstoastaircase.wegouptothesecondfloorandturnright.producingakeyfromhispocket,heunlocksyetanotherdoorandtakesadeepbreath.

“youcanlea一veanytime.thehelicopterisonstand-bytotakeyouwheneveryouwanttogo,youcanstaythenightandgohomeinthemorning.it’sfinewhateveryoudecide.”

“justopenthedamndoor,christian.”

heopensthedoorandstandsbacktoletmein.igazeathimoncemore.isowanttoknowwhat’sinhere.takingadeepbreathiwalkin.

anditfeelslikei’vetime-tra一veledbacktothesixteenthcenturyandthespanishinquisition.

holyfuck.

thefirstthinginoticeisthesmell;leather,wood,polishwithafaintcitrusscent.it’sverypleasant,andthelightingissoft,sub一tle.infact,ican’tseethesource,butit’saroundthecorniceintheroom,emittinganambientglow.thewallsandceilingareadeep,darkburgundy,givingawomb-likeeffecttothespaciousroom,andthefloorisold,oldvarnishedwood.thereisalargewoodencrosslikeanxfastenedtothewallfacingthedoor.it’smadeofhigh-polishedmahogany,andtherearerestrainingcuffsoneachcorner.aboveitisanexpansiveirongridsuspendedfromtheceiling,eight-footsquareatleast,andfromithangallmannerofropes,chains,andglintingshackles.bythedoor,twolong,polished,ornatelycarvedpoles,likespindlesfromabanisterbutlonger,hanglikecurtainrodsacrossthewall.fromthemswingastartlingassortmentofpaddles,whips,ridingcrops,andfunny-lookingfeatheryimplements.

besidethedoorstandsasubstantialmahoganychestofdrawers,eachdrawerslimasifdesignedtocontainspecimensinacrustyoldmuseum.iwonderbrieflywhatthedrawersactuallydohold.doiwanttoknow?inthefarcornerisanoxbloodleatherpaddedbench,andfixedtothewallbesideitisawooden,polishedrackthatlookslikeapoolorbilliardcueholder,butoncloserinspection,itholdscanesofvaryinglengthsandwidths.there’sastoutsix-foot-longtableintheoppositecorner–polishedwoodwithintricatelycarvedlegs–andtwomatchingstoolsunderneath.

butwhatdominatestheroomisabed.it’sbiggerthanking-size,anornatelycarvedrococofour-posterwithaflattop.itlookslatenineteenthcentury.underthecanopy,icanseemoregleamingchainsandcuffs.thereisnobedding...justamattresscoveredinredleatherandredsatincushionspiledatoneend.

atthefootofthebed,setapartafewfeet,isalargeoxbloodchesterfieldcouch,juststuckinthemiddleoftheroomfacingthebed.anoddarrangement…toha一veacouchfacingthebed,andismiletomyself–i’vepickedonthecouchasodd,whenreallyit’sthemostmundanepieceoffurnitureintheroom.iglanceupandstareattheceiling.therearekarabinersallovertheceilingatoddintervals.ivaguelywonderwhatthey’refor.weirdly,allthewood,darkwalls,moodylighting,andoxbloodleathermakestheroomkindofsoftandromantic…iknowit’sanythingbut,thisischristian’sversionofsoftandromantic.

iturn,andhe’sregardingmeintentlyasiknewhewouldbe,hisexpressioncompletelyunreadable.iwalkfurtherintotheroom,andhefollowsme.thefeatherythinghasmeintrigued.itouchithesitantly.it’ssuede,likeasmallcat-of-nine-tailsbutbushier,andthereareverysmallplasticbeadsontheend.

“it’scalledaflogger,”christian’svoiceisquietandsoft.

aflogger…hmm.ithinki’minshock.mysubconscioushasemigratedorbeenstruckdumborsimplykeeledoverandexpired.iamnumb.icanobserveandabsorbbutnotarticulatemyfeelingsaboutallthis,becausei’minshock.whatistheappropriateresponsetofindingoutapotentialloverisacompletefreakysadistormasochist?fear…yes…thatseemstobetheover-ridingfeeling.irecognizeitnow.butweirdlynotofhim–idon’tthinkhe’dhurtme,well,notwithoutmyconsent.somanyquestionscloudmymind.why?how?when?howoften?who?iwalktowardthebedandrunmyhandsdownoneoftheintricatelycarvedposts.thepostisverysturdy,thecraftsmanshipoutstanding.

“saysomething,”christiancommands,hisvoicedeceptivelysoft.