Chapter Five #2
“Breakfast is here.” He knocks on the door, startling me.
“O-okay,” I stutter as I’m yanked cruelly out of my erotic daydream.
I climb out of the shower and grab two towels. I put my hair in one and wrap it around my head. Hastily, I dry myself, ignoring the pleasurable feel of the towel rubbing against my over sensitized skin.
I inspect the bag of jeans. Not only has Taylor brought me jeans and new Converse, but also a pale-blue shirt, socks, and underwear.
Oh my. A clean bra and panties—actually, to describe them in such a mundane, utilitarian way does not do them justice.
They are exquisitely designed fancy European lingerie.
All pale-blue lace and finery. Wow. I am in awe and slightly daunted.
What’s more, they fit perfectly. But of course they do.
I flush to think of Buzz Cut in some lingerie store buying this for me.
I wonder what else is in his job description.
I dress quickly. The rest of the clothing is a perfect fit.
I brusquely towel-dry my hair and try desperately to bring it under control with my fingers.
But, as usual, it refuses to cooperate, and my only option is to restrain it with a hair tie, which I don’t have.
I should have one in my purse, wherever it is.
I take a deep breath. Time to face Mr. Confusing.
I’m relieved to find the bedroom empty. I hunt quickly for my purse—but it’s not in here.
Taking another deep breath, I enter the living area of the suite.
It’s huge. There’s an opulent seating area, all overstuffed couches and soft cushions, an elaborate coffee table with a stack of large, glossy books, a study area with the latest-generation iMac, and an enormous plasma screen TV on the wall.
Christian is sitting at a dining table on the other side of the room reading a newspaper.
It’s the size of a tennis court or something—not that I play tennis, though I have watched Kate a few times.
Kate!
“Crap, Kate!” I croak.
Christian peers at me. “She knows you’re here and still alive. I texted Elliot,” he says with just a trace of humor.
Oh no. I remember her fervent dancing of the night before.
All her patented moves used with maximum effect to seduce Christian’s brother, no less!
What’s she going to think about me being here?
I’ve never stayed out before. She’s still with Elliot.
She’s only done this twice before, and both times I’ve had to endure the hideous pink PJs for a week from the fallout.
She’s going to think I’ve had a one-night stand, too.
Christian stares at me imperiously. He’s wearing a white linen shirt, collar and cuffs undone. “Sit,” he commands, pointing to a place at the table.
I make my way across the room and sit down opposite him as I’ve been directed. The table is laden with food.
“I didn’t know what you liked, so I ordered a selection from the breakfast menu.” He gives me a crooked, apologetic smile.
“That’s very profligate of you,” I murmur, bewildered by the choice, though I am hungry.
“Yes, it is.” He sounds guilty.
I opt for pancakes, maple syrup, scrambled eggs, and bacon.
Christian tries to hide a smile as he returns to his egg white omelet. The food is delicious. “Tea?” he asks.
“Yes, please.”
He passes me a small teapot of hot water and on the saucer is a Twinings English Breakfast tea bag. Jeez, he remembers how I like my tea.
“Your hair’s very damp,” he scolds.
“I couldn’t find the hair dryer,” I mutter, embarrassed. Not that I looked.
Christian’s mouth presses into a hard line, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Thank you for the clothes.”
“It’s a pleasure, Anastasia. That color suits you.”
I blush and stare down at my fingers.
“You know, you really should learn to take a compliment.” His tone is castigating.
“I should give you some money for these clothes.”
He glares at me as if I have offended him on some level.
I hurry on. “You’ve already given me the books, which, of course, I can’t accept. But these, please let me pay you back.” I smile tentatively at him.
“Anastasia, trust me, I can afford it.”
“That’s not the point. Why should you buy these for me?”
“Because I can.” His eyes flash with a wicked gleam.
“Just because you can doesn’t mean that you should,” I reply quietly as he arches an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling, and suddenly I feel like we’re talking about something else, but I don’t know what it is. Which reminds me…
“Why did you send me the books, Christian?”
He puts down his cutlery and regards me intently, his eyes burning with some unfathomable emotion.
Holy crap—my mouth dries.
“Well, when you were nearly run over by the cyclist—and I was holding you and you were looking up at me—all ‘kiss me, kiss me, Christian’—” He pauses and shrugs.
“I felt I owed you an apology and a warning.” He runs his hand through his hair.
“Anastasia, I’m not a hearts-and-flowers kind of man.
I don’t do romance. My tastes are very singular.
You should steer clear of me.” He closes his eyes as if in defeat.
“There’s something about you, though, and I’m finding it impossible to stay away.
But I think you’ve figured that out already. ”
My appetite vanishes. He can’t stay away!
“Then don’t,” I whisper.
He gasps, his eyes wide. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Enlighten me, then.”
We sit gazing at each other, neither of us touching our food.
“You’re not celibate?”
Amusement lights up his eyes. “No, Anastasia, I’m not celibate.” He pauses for this information to sink in, and my cheeks warm. The mouth-to-brain filter is broken again. I can’t believe I’ve just said that out loud.
“What are your plans for the next few days?” he asks, his voice low.
“I’m working today, from midday. What time is it?” I panic suddenly.
“It’s just after ten; you’ve plenty of time. What about tomorrow?” He has his elbows on the table, and his chin is resting on his long, steepled fingers.
“Kate and I are going to start packing. We’re moving to Seattle next weekend, and I’m working at Clayton’s all this week.”
“You have a place in Seattle already?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I can’t remember the address. It’s in the Pike Market District.”
“Not far from me.” He smiles. “So what are you going to do for work in Seattle?”
Where is he going with all these questions? The Christian Grey Inquisition is almost as irritating as the Katherine Kavanagh Inquisition.
“I’ve applied for some internships. I’m waiting to hear.”
“Have you applied to my company, as I suggested?”
I flush. Of course not. “Um…no.”
“And what’s wrong with my company?”
“Your company or your company?”
“Are you smirking at me, Miss Steele?” He tilts his head to one side, and I think he looks amused, but it’s hard to tell.
I flush and glance down at my unfinished breakfast. I can’t look him in the eye when he uses that tone of voice.
“I’d like to bite that lip,” he whispers darkly.
I inhale sharply, completely unaware that I’m chewing my bottom lip and my mouth pops open.
That has to be the sexiest thing anybody has ever said to me.
My heartbeat spikes, and I’m a panting, quivering mess…
and he hasn’t even touched me. I squirm in my seat and meet his dark glare. “Why don’t you?”
“Because I’m not going to touch you, Anastasia—not until I have your written consent to do so.” His lips hint at a smile.
What?
“What does that mean?”
“Exactly what I say.” He sighs and shakes his head at me, amused but exasperated, too. “I need to show you, Anastasia. What time do you finish work this evening?”
“About eight.”
“Well, we could go to Seattle this evening or next Saturday for dinner at my place, and I’ll acquaint you with the facts then. The choice is yours.”
“Why can’t you tell me now?”
“Because I’m enjoying my breakfast and your company. Once you’re enlightened, you probably won’t want to see me again.”
What does that mean? Does he traffic small children to some godforsaken part of the planet?
Is he part of some underworld crime syndicate?
It would explain why he’s so rich. Is he deeply religious?
Is he impotent? Surely not—he could prove that to me right now.
I pale thinking about the possibilities.
This is getting me nowhere. I’d like to solve the riddle that is Christian Grey sooner rather than later.
If it means that whatever secret he has is so gross that I don’t want to know him anymore, then, quite frankly, it’ll be a relief.
Don’t lie to yourself, my subconscious yells at me. It’ll have to be pretty damned bad to have you running for the hills.
“Tonight.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Like Eve, you’re so quick to eat from the tree of knowledge.”
“Are you smirking at me, Mr. Grey?” I ask sweetly. Pompous ass.
He narrows his eyes at me and picks up his BlackBerry. He presses one number. “Taylor. I’m going to need Charlie Tango.”
Charlie Tango! Who’s he?
“From Portland at, say, 20:30… No, standby at Escala… All night.”
All night!
“Yes. On call tomorrow morning. I’ll pilot from Portland to Seattle.”
Pilot?
“Standby pilot from 22:30.” He puts the phone down. No please or thank you.
“Do people always do what you tell them?”
“Usually, if they want to keep their jobs,” he says, deadpan.
“And if they don’t work for you?”
“Oh, I can be very persuasive, Anastasia. You should finish your breakfast. And then I’ll drop you off at home. I’ll pick you up at Clayton’s at eight when you finish. We’ll fly up to Seattle.”
“Fly?”
“Yes. I have a helicopter.”
I gape at him. I have my second date with Christian Oh-So-Mysterious Grey. From coffee to helicopter rides. Wow. “We’ll go by helicopter to Seattle?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He grins wickedly. “Because I can. Finish your breakfast.”
How can I eat now? I’m going to Seattle by helicopter with Christian Grey. And he wants to bite my lip… I squirm at the thought.