Erica Leonard James

Fifty shades darker

Dedicated to Z and J

You are my favorite, forever

GRATITUDE

I want to express my endless gratitude to Sarah, Kay and Jada. Thank you for everything you have done for me.

I also give a HUGE thank you to Kathleen and Christy for bearing the brunt of the writing.

Thank you too, Niall, my love, my husband and my best friend (almost always).

And a big, big hello to all the wonderful, amazing women around the world with whom I had the pleasure of communicating and whom I now consider my friends, including Eil, Alex, Amy, Andrea, Angela, Azucena, Baba, Bea, Belinda, Betsy, Brandy, Britt, Caroline, Katherine, Dawn, Gwen, Hana, Janet, Jen, Jenn, Jill, Katie, Kelly, Eyes, Mandy, Margaret, Natalia, Nicole, Nora, Olga, Pam, Polina, Raina, Raisy, Ryan, Ruth, Steph, Susi, Tasha, Taylor and Yuna. And to all the talented, funny, and kind women (and men) I’ve interacted with online.

Thanks to Morgan and Jenn for everything about the Hitman Hotel.

And finally, thanks to Janine, my editor. You are the cornerstone on which everything rests. That's all.

He is coming back. Mom is lying on the sofa, sleeping, or she feels bad again.

I hide in the kitchen under the table, press myself against the wall so that he doesn’t notice me. I cover my face with my hands. Through my fingers I see my mother, her hand on a dirty green blanket. His huge boots with shiny buckles stop in front of her.

He hits mom with a belt. “Get up! Get up! Damn bitch! Bitch! Damn bitch! Get up, bitch! Get up! Get up!..”

Mom sobs. "No need. Please don’t!..” Mom doesn’t scream. Mom curls up into a ball and hides her face.

I close my eyes and plug my ears. Silence. I open my eyes.

He turns and stomps into the kitchen. With a belt in hand. Looking for me.

He bends down and looks under the table. A disgusting stench, a mixture of cigarettes and whiskey, hits my nose. “Here you are, you bastard...”

He wakes up to a blood-curdling howl. God! He is covered in sweat, his heart is pounding. What the hell? He sits up abruptly and shakes his head. Devil, they're back... He howled himself. He takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly, trying to calm down, to get the smell of cheap bourbon and stinking Camel cigarettes out of his nostrils and out of his memory.

I somehow survived the Third-Day-Without-Christian and my first day of work. But I still managed to get a little distracted. New faces flashed by, I tried to get into the work. And then there’s my new boss, Mr. Jack Hyde... Here he comes to my desk, smiles, sparkles sparkle in his blue eyes.

Well done, Ana. I think you and I will work well together.

Not without some effort, I stretch my lips into something like a smile.

I'll go if you don't mind.

Of course, go, it's already half past six. Till tomorrow.

Goodbye, Jack.

Goodbye Ana.

I take my bag, pull on my jacket and go to the door. Finding myself on the streets of Seattle, I take a deep breath. But the early evening air still doesn't fill the void in my chest, the vacuum I've felt since Saturday morning, a painful reminder of my loss. I trudge dejectedly to the bus stop and wonder how I can live now without my beloved old lady, the Wanda... or without the Audi.

I immediately pull myself together. No. Don't think about him! Yes, of course, I can now afford a car - a beautiful, new car. Perhaps he paid me too generously... After this thought, my mouth becomes bitter, but I prefer not to notice it. We need to get everything out of our heads. Don't think about anything, don't feel anything... And don't think about him. Otherwise I’ll start bawling again, right now, on the street. This was just what I needed.

Without Kate, the apartment is empty and sad. He's probably lying on the beach in Barbados right now, sipping a cool cocktail. I turn on the flat-screen TV so that the sound fills the vacuum and creates at least some feeling that I’m not alone, but I don’t listen or watch. I sit down and stare blankly at the wall. I don't feel anything, only pain. How much longer do I have to endure this?

The trill of the intercom brings me out of my stupor, and I shudder in fear. Who is this? After hesitating, I press the button.

Delivery for Miss Steele.

The voice is lazy, boring, and disappointment fills me. I'm going down the stairs. Downstairs, leaning against the front door, stands a boy with a cardboard box and chewing gum. I scratch my signature on the receipt and take the box. Although it is large, it is surprisingly light. Inside are two dozen long-stemmed white roses and a card.

...

Congratulations on your first day at work.

I hope it went well.

And thanks for the planner. Very nice of you.

It decorated my desk.
Christian.

I look at the card, at the letters printed on it, and the emptiness in my chest grows. I have no doubt that all this was sent by his secretary, hardly Christian himself. It hurts me too much to think about it. I look at the roses - they are luxurious, and I can’t bring myself to throw them away. There is nothing to do, I plop into the kitchen and look for a vase there.

This is how my life goes: waking up, work, and in the evening - tears and sleep. Well, an attempt at sleep. Christian haunts me even in my dreams. Sparkling gray eyes, bright hair the color of dark copper... And music... a lot of music - now I can't hear it at all. I'm running from her. Even the bell in the nearby bakery makes me flinch.

I didn’t tell anyone about this, not even my mom or Ray. I don't have the strength for this. And I don't want anything at all. Now I am left alone on a desert island, on war-scorched land, where nothing grows, where the horizon is dark and empty. Yes, I am like that. At work I can communicate with everyone - and with no one in particular. That's all. If I talk to my mother, I will completely break down - and there is nothing whole left in my soul.

I lost my appetite. On Wednesday at lunch I had a glass of yogurt - the first thing I've eaten since Friday. I exist on cappuccino and diet coke. I rely on caffeine, and there is nothing good about it.

Jack often comes up to me, pesters me, asks questions about my personal life. And what does he need? I try to be polite, but I don’t let him get close.

I sit at the computer, look through Jack's mail and am glad that this stupid work distracts me from my problems. My mail beeps, I quickly look to see who the letter is from.

Damn, what news! Letter from Christian. No, that's all I needed! Why write here?

...

From whom: Christian Grey

Subject: Tomorrow

To whom: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia.

Sorry I'm writing to you at work. I hope I won't disturb you too much. Did you receive my flowers?

I know that the gallery is opening tomorrow, there will be an opening day for your friend. It’s a long way to go there, and you probably didn’t have time to buy a car. I'll be perfectly happy to take you there - if you want.

Let me know.
Christian Gray, CEO of Gray Enterprises Holding

Tears begin to well up in my eyes. I jump up, gallop to the toilet and dive into a stall. Jose! I completely forgot, but I promised to come to his opening day. Damn, Christian's right: how do I get there?

I press my palm to my hot forehead. Why didn't Jose call me? And anyway, why doesn’t anyone call me? In the confusion of feelings, I didn’t even notice that my cell phone was silent.

Crap! What an idiot! I still have call forwarding enabled on my BlackBerry smartphone, which Christian left behind. All this time, Gray received calls addressed to me - of course, unless he threw away his smartphone. How did Christian find out my email?

However, he even knows my shoe size, so finding out my email address is not a problem for him.

Will I be able to meet him again? Can I stand it? Do I want to see him? I close my eyes and throw my head back, caught in a hot wave of melancholy and longing. Of course I want.

Perhaps... perhaps I will tell him that I have already changed my mind... No, no, no, I cannot be with a person who takes pleasure in hurting me, someone who cannot love me.

Painful memories flash in my mind: the bath, strong, gentle hands, kisses, his humor and his dark, exciting look - very sexy. I miss him. Five days, five painful days dragged on for an eternity. I fell asleep in tears, regretted that I had met him, and wished that he would become different, could become different, so that we could be together. How much longer should I suffer from this terrible, withering feeling? I live on the threshold of hell.

I wrap my arms around my shoulders, tightly, as if I’m afraid that I’m about to crumble into pieces. I miss him. I miss him... I love him. That's it, I love you, that's all.

Anastasia Steele, you're at work right now!.. I need to be strong, but I want to go to Jose's opening day, and the masochist hiding in the depths of my soul also wants to meet Christian. I take a deep breath, exhale noisily and walk to my desk.

...

From whom: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Tomorrow

To whom: Christian Grey

Hello Christian.

Thank you for the flowers, they are lovely.

Yes, I'd like to go.

Thank you.

I checked my mobile phone - yes, forwarding was turned on. Jack left for negotiations, and I quickly called Jose.

Hello Jose. This is Ana.

I can't talk for a long time. What time does the vernissage start?

Yes, sure. “I mentally see his face, his wide grin, and for the first time in five days I sincerely smile.

At seven thirty.

See you then. Bye, Jose.

Bye, Ana.

...

From whom: Christian Grey

Subject: Tomorrow

To whom: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia

What time should I pick you up?

...

From whom: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Tomorrow

To whom: Christian Grey

Jose's opening day starts at 7:30. What time do you think you should arrive?
Anastasia Steele, Secretary to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP

...

From whom: Christian Grey

Subject: Tomorrow

To whom: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia

It's quite a distance from Portland. I'll pick you up at 5:45.

I'm waiting for our next meeting.
Christian Gray, General Director of Gray Enterprises Holding

...

From whom: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Tomorrow

To whom: Christian Grey

See you then.
Anastasia Steele Secretary to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP

God, I'll see Christian soon! For the first time in five days, my mood improves a little. I allow myself to think about him openly.

Did he miss me? Probably not the way I feel about him. Or has he found himself a new obedient toy? The thought is so unbearable that I immediately reject it. I look at the pile of mail that needs to be sorted immediately and try to put Christian out of my mind.

That evening I toss and turn in bed, trying to fall asleep, and for the first time in several days I don’t cry.

Christian’s face, distorted by agony, appears in front of me at the moment when I left. I remember that he didn’t want to let me go, and it’s strange. Why did I have to stay if everything was at a dead end? Each of us was hampered by our own: for me - fear of pain, for him - fear of... what? Love?

I roll over and hug my pillow. My soul is filled with boundless sadness. He thinks he doesn't deserve love. Why? Maybe the reason lies in his childhood? His mother, a cheap prostitute? Such thoughts torment me for a long time until I fall into a restless sleep.

The day drags on and on, and Jack is unusually attentive to me. I suspect it's Kate's plum dress and black high-heeled boots that I borrowed from her closet. But that doesn't bother me much. After the first money I will definitely buy myself something decent. The dress hangs loosely on me, but I pretend that it’s meant to be that way.

Finally the clock shows half past six. With my heart beating wildly, I put on my jacket and take my purse. Now I will see him!

Are you going on a date? - Jack asks, walking past my table towards the exit.

Yes. No. Not really.

He raises an eyebrow. There is obvious interest written on his face.

Boyfriend?

I blush with embarrassment.

No, just a friend. Ex-boyfriend.

Ana, let's go somewhere tomorrow after work. You did a great job the first week. We need to celebrate.

Jack smiles, and his face takes on an unfamiliar expression for a moment. I feel a little uneasy.

With his hands in his pockets, he walks through the double doors. I frown at his back. Is it polite to drink with your boss?

I shake my head. First I still have to survive the evening with Christian Gray. Will I be able to do this?

I run to the toilet to clean myself up. I stop in front of a large mirror and look long and meticulously at my face. It is, as always, pale; dark circles under large eyes. In short, he looks tortured and scared. Eh, it’s a pity that I don’t know how to use cosmetics! I tint my eyelashes, line my eyes, and pat my cheeks to make them a little pink. I comb and style my hair so that it lies beautifully on my back. I'm catching my breath. Well, nothing now.

Increasingly nervous, I walk through the lobby with a smile, waving to Claire, who is sitting in the reception area. It seems that we will soon become friends. Near the exit, Jack talks to Elizabeth. With a wide smile, he hurries to open the door for me.

Only after you, Ana,” he mutters.

Thank you,” I smile shyly.

Taylor is waiting for me at the curb. He opens the back door of the car. I look back hesitantly at Jack, who has followed me out; my boss looks at the Audi SUV with concern.

I walk over and sit in the back seat. And there he sits, Christian Gray, in a gray suit, without a tie, the collar of his white shirt is open. Gray eyes shine.

My mouth instantly dries out. He looks amazing, but for some reason he frowns when he looks at me. Why?

When was the last time you ate? - he asks angrily as Taylor slams the door behind me.

Hello Christian. Yes, I'm glad to see you too.

Don't talk to me about it. Answer. - Anger sparkles in his eyes.

Well... this afternoon I ate yogurt. Yes, another banana.

When was the last time you ate normally? - he asks caustically.

Taylor gets behind the wheel, starts the Audi and joins the traffic.

I look out the window. Jack waves at me, although I don’t know how he sees me through the dark glass. I wave back.

Who is this? - Christian asks sharply.

My boss. - I look out of the corner of my eye at the handsome man sitting next to me. His lips are pressed tightly together.

Well? Your last proper meal?

Christian, this is none of your business, honestly,” I mutter, feeling unusually brave.

Everything you do concerns me. Answer.

What is this! I groan in frustration and roll my eyes, and Christian squints angrily. And for the first time in many days, I suddenly feel funny. I try my best to suppress the laughter that threatens to burst out. Christian's face softens, and the shadow of a smile graces his amazingly contoured lips.

Well? - he insists, more softly.

“Last Friday, pasta with shells,” I answer in a whisper.

He closes his eyes. A shadow of anger and probably regret runs across his face.

“I see,” he says in an impassive tone. “You look a few pounds thinner, maybe more.” Please eat, Anastasia.

I lower my eyes and look at my clasped fingers. Why do I always feel like a stupid, unlucky child next to him?

He turns to me.

How are you? - he asks softly.

Well, actually, it’s terrible... I swallow the lump in my throat.

If I say that everything is fine, I will be lying.

He sighs shakily.

“Me too,” he mutters and squeezes my hand. - I missed you.

Oh, No! I feel the warmth of his fingers on my skin.

Christian, I...

Ana, please, we need to talk.

I'll pay now. No!

Christian, I... don’t... I cried so much,” I whisper, trying to cope with my emotions.

Don't, baby! “He pulls me by the hand, and before I know it, I’m on his lap. He hugs me and nuzzles his nose into my hair. “I missed you so much, Anastasia,” he says, barely audible.

I want to free myself from his hands and keep my distance, but I can’t. He presses me to his chest. I'm filled with bliss. Oh, if only it were always like this!

I lay my head on his shoulder, and he showers kisses on my hair. I feel good, like at home. He smells clean, like fabric softener, like body wash. It also smells like Christian - and this is my favorite scent. For a moment, I allow myself to believe in the illusion that everything will be fine. It pours onto my tormented soul like a balm.

A few minutes later, Taylor pulls the Audi to the curb, even though we're still in town.

Let’s go,” Christian lifts me up lightly, “we’ve arrived.”

There is a helipad there - on the roof of the building. - Christian throws his head back and waves his hand.

Well, of course, "Charlie Tango". Taylor opens the door for me and gives me a warm, protective smile. I smile back.

I must return your handkerchief.

Keep it, Miss Steele, with my best wishes.

I'm blushing. Christian comes out from behind the car and takes my hand. He looks questioningly at Taylor, who answers him with an impassive look.

At nine? - says Christian.

Christian leads me through the double doors into the huge foyer. I am thrilled by the warmth of the long, sensitive fingers squeezing my hand; an exciting current emanates from them. But even without this, Christian attracts me to him - like the sun attracted Icarus. I have already been burned and yet again I am flying into its light.

We approach the elevators, he presses the call button. Out of the corner of my eye I see a mysterious half-smile on his lips. The door wings open. He lets go of my hand and gently pushes me into the booth.

The elevator is closing. I risk looking up at Christian once again. He looks at me from the height of his height, and the air is charged with electricity, thickens, pulsates between us. At least touch it, at least eat it. We are attracted to each other.

“Oh God,” I sigh, overwhelmed by the power of this instinctive attraction, as old as life itself.

“I feel it too,” he says. His eyes are clouded with passion.

Desire fills my belly like a dark, deadly plasma. Christian squeezes my hand, caresses the crook of my little finger with his thumb, and every muscle in my body contracts in a sweet spasm.

Where does he have such power over me?

Anastasia, don’t bite your lip,” he whispers.

I unclench my teeth and look at him pitifully. I want him, immediately, here in the elevator. Could it be otherwise?

You know yourself what you mean to me.

Oh, that means he still needs me! My inner goddess, my self-esteem, stirred after five days of hopelessness.

Dedicated to Z and J
You are my favorite, forever

Gratitude

I want to express my endless gratitude to Sarah, Kay and Jada. Thank you for everything you have done for me.

I also give a HUGE thank you to Kathleen and Christy for bearing the brunt of the writing.

Thank you too, Niall, my love, my husband and my best friend (almost always).

And a big, big hello to all the wonderful, amazing women around the world with whom I had the pleasure of communicating and whom I now consider my friends, including Eil, Alex, Amy, Andrea, Angela, Azucena, Babs, Bee, Belinda, Betsy, Brandy, Britt, Caroline, Katherine, Dawn, Gwen, Hana, Janet, Jen, Jenn, Jill, Katie, Kelly, Liz, Mandy, Margaret, Natalia, Nicole, Nora, Olga, Pam, Polina, Raina, Raisy, Ryan, Ruth, Steph, Susi, Tasha, Taylor and Yuna. And to all the talented, funny, and kind women (and men) I’ve interacted with online.

Thanks to Morgan and Jenn for everything about the Hitman Hotel.

And finally, thanks to Janine, my editor. You are the cornerstone on which everything rests. That's all.

Prologue

He is coming back. Mom is lying on the sofa, sleeping, or she feels bad again.

He hits mom with a belt. “Get up! Get up! Damn bitch! Bitch! Damn bitch! Get up, bitch! Get up! Get up!..”

Mom sobs. "No need. Please don’t!..” Mom doesn’t scream. Mom curls up into a ball and hides her face.

I close my eyes and plug my ears. Silence. I open my eyes.

He turns and stomps into the kitchen. With a belt in hand. Looking for me.

He bends down and looks under the table. A disgusting stench, a mixture of cigarettes and whiskey, hits my nose. “Here you are, you bastard...”

Chapter 1

- Well done, Ana. I think you and I will work well together.

Not without some effort, I stretch my lips into something like a smile.

- I'll go if you don't mind.

- Of course, go, it’s already half past five. Till tomorrow.

- Goodbye, Jack.

- Goodbye, Ana.

I immediately pull myself together. No. Don't think about him! Yes, of course, I can now afford a car – a beautiful, new car. Perhaps he paid me too generously... After this thought, my mouth becomes bitter, but I prefer not to notice it. We need to get everything out of our heads. Don't think about anything, don't feel anything... And don't think about him. Otherwise I’ll start bawling again, right now, on the street. This was just what I needed.

The trill of the intercom brings me out of my stupor, and I shudder in fear. Who is this? After hesitating, I press the button.

– Delivery for Miss Steele.

...

Congratulations on your first day at work.
I hope it went well.
And thanks for the planner. Very nice of you.
It decorated my desk.

This is how my life goes: waking up, work, and in the evening – tears and sleep. Well, an attempt at sleep. Christian haunts me even in my dreams. Sparkling gray eyes, bright hair the color of dark copper... And music... a lot of music - now I can’t hear it at all. I'm running from her. Even the bell in the nearby bakery makes me flinch.

Jack often comes up to me, pesters me, asks questions about my personal life. And what does he need? I try to be polite, but I don’t let him get close.

I sit at the computer, look through Jack's mail and am glad that this stupid work distracts me from my problems. My mail beeps, I quickly look to see who the letter is from.

Damn, what news! Letter from Christian. No, that's all I needed! Why write here?

...

From whom: Christian Grey
Subject: Tomorrow
To whom: Anastasia Steele
Dear Anastasia.
Sorry I'm writing to you at work. I hope I won't disturb you too much. Did you receive my flowers?
I know that the gallery is opening tomorrow, there will be an opening day for your friend. It’s a long way to go there, and you probably didn’t have time to buy a car. I'll be perfectly happy to take you there - if you want.
1

Current page: 1 (book has a total of 32 pages) [available reading passage: 8 pages]

E L James
Fifty shades darker

FIFTY SHADES DARKER

Introduction, photographs, and captions © Fifty Shades Ltd. 2017

Excerpt from Fifty Shades Darker as told by Christan Grey,

The author published an earlier serialized version of this story online with different characters as “Master of the Universe” under the pseudonym Snowqueen’s Icedragon.

Film Artwork © Universal Studios 2016

* * *

Dedicated to Z and J

You are my favorite, forever

Gratitude

I want to express my endless gratitude to Sarah, Kay and Jada. Thank you for everything you have done for me.

I also give a HUGE thank you to Kathleen and Christy for bearing the brunt of the writing.

Thank you too, Niall, my love, my husband and my best friend (almost always).

And a big, big hello to all the wonderful, amazing women around the world with whom I had the pleasure of communicating and whom I now consider my friends, including Eil, Alex, Amy, Andrea, Angela, Azucena, Babs, Bee, Belinda, Betsy, Brandy, Britt, Caroline, Katherine, Dawn, Gwen, Hana, Janet, Jen, Jenn, Jill, Katie, Kelly, Liz, Mandy, Margaret, Natalia, Nicole, Nora, Olga, Pam, Polina, Raina, Raisy, Ryan, Ruth, Steph, Susi, Tasha, Taylor and Yuna. And to all the talented, funny, and kind women (and men) I’ve interacted with online.

Thanks to Morgan and Jenn for everything about the Hitman Hotel.

And finally, thanks to Janine, my editor. You are the cornerstone on which everything rests. That's all.

Prologue

He is coming back. Mom is lying on the sofa, sleeping, or she feels bad again. I hide in the kitchen under the table, press myself against the wall so that he doesn’t notice me. I cover my face with my hands. Through my fingers I see my mother, her hand on a dirty green blanket. His huge boots with shiny buckles stop in front of her.

He hits mom with a belt. “Get up! Get up! Damn bitch! Bitch! Damn bitch! Get up, bitch! Get up! Get up!..”

Mom sobs. "No need. Please don’t!..” Mom doesn’t scream. Mom curls up into a ball and hides her face.

I close my eyes and plug my ears. Silence. I open my eyes.

He turns and stomps into the kitchen. With a belt in hand. Looking for me.

He bends down and looks under the table. A disgusting stench, a mixture of cigarettes and whiskey, hits my nose. “Here you are, you bastard...”

Chapter 1

- Well done, Ana. I think you and I will work well together.

Not without some effort, I stretch my lips into something like a smile.

- I'll go if you don't mind.

- Of course, go, it’s already half past five. Till tomorrow.

- Goodbye, Jack.

- Goodbye, Ana.

The trill of the intercom brings me out of my stupor, and I shudder in fear. Who is this? After hesitating, I press the button.

– Delivery for Miss Steele.

Congratulations on your first day at work.

I hope it went well.

And thanks for the planner. Very nice of you.

It decorated my desk.

Christian.

Jack often comes up to me, pesters me, asks questions about my personal life. And what does he need? I try to be polite, but I don’t let him get close.

I sit at the computer, look through Jack's mail and am glad that this stupid work distracts me from my problems. My mail beeps, I quickly look to see who the letter is from.

Damn, what news! Letter from Christian. No, that's all I needed! Why write here?

From whom: Christian Grey

Subject: Tomorrow

To whom: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia.

Sorry I'm writing to you at work. I hope I won't disturb you too much. Did you receive my flowers?

I know that the gallery is opening tomorrow, there will be an opening day for your friend. It’s a long way to go there, and you probably didn’t have time to buy a car. I'll be perfectly happy to take you there - if you want.

Let me know.

Christian Grey,

I press my palm to my hot forehead. Why didn't Jose call me? And anyway, why doesn’t anyone call me? In the confusion of feelings, I didn’t even notice that my cell phone was silent.

However, he even knows my shoe size, so finding out my email address is not a problem for him.

Will I be able to meet him again? Can I stand it? Do I want to see him? I close my eyes and throw my head back, caught in a hot wave of melancholy and longing. Of course I want.

Perhaps... perhaps I will tell him that I have already changed my mind... No, no, no, I cannot be with a person who takes pleasure in hurting me, someone who cannot love me.

I wrap my arms around my shoulders, tightly, as if I’m afraid that I’m about to crumble into pieces. I miss him. I miss him... I love him. That's it, I love you, that's all.

From whom: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Tomorrow

To whom: Christian Grey

Hello Christian.

Thank you for the flowers, they are lovely.

Yes, I'd like to go.

Thank you.

Anastasia Steele,

I checked my mobile phone - yes, forwarding was turned on. Jack left for negotiations, and I quickly called Jose.

- Hello, Jose. This is Ana.

– I can’t talk for a long time. What time does the vernissage start?

- Yes, sure. “I mentally see his face, his wide grin, and for the first time in five days I smile completely sincerely.

- At seven thirty.

“Then see you later.” Bye, Jose.

- Bye, Ana.

From whom: Christian Grey

Subject: Tomorrow

To whom: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia

What time should I pick you up?

Christian Grey,

General Director of Gray Enterprises Holding

From whom: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Tomorrow

To whom: Christian Grey

Jose's opening day starts at 7:30. What time do you think you should arrive?

Anastasia Steele,

Secretary to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP

From whom: Christian Grey

Subject: Tomorrow

To whom: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia

It's quite a distance from Portland. I'll pick you up at 5:45.

I'm waiting for our next meeting.

Christian Grey,

General Director of Gray Enterprises Holding

From whom: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Tomorrow

To whom: Christian Grey

See you then.

Anastasia Steele

Secretary to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP

God, I'll see Christian soon! For the first time in five days, my mood improves a little. I allow myself to think about him openly.

That evening I toss and turn in bed, trying to fall asleep, and for the first time in several days I don’t cry.

Finally the clock shows half past six. With my heart beating wildly, I put on my jacket and take my purse. Now I will see him!

– Are you going on a date? – Jack asks, walking past my table towards the exit.

- Yes. No. Not really.

He raises an eyebrow. There is obvious interest written on his face.

- Boyfriend?

I blush with embarrassment.

- No, just a friend. Ex-boyfriend.

– Ana, let’s go somewhere tomorrow after work. You did a great job the first week. We need to celebrate.

Jack smiles, and his face takes on an unfamiliar expression for a moment. I feel a little uneasy.

With his hands in his pockets, he walks through the double doors. I frown at his back. Is it polite to drink with your boss?

I shake my head. First I still have to survive the evening with Christian Gray. Will I be able to do this?

“Only after you, Ana,” he mutters.

“Thank you,” I smile shyly.

Taylor is waiting for me at the curb. He opens the back door of the car. I look back hesitantly at Jack, who has followed me out; my boss looks at the Audi SUV with concern.

I walk over and sit in the back seat. And there he sits, Christian Gray, in a gray suit, without a tie, the collar of his white shirt is open. Gray eyes shine.

My mouth instantly dries out. He looks amazing, but for some reason he frowns when he looks at me. Why?

– When was the last time you ate? he asks angrily as Taylor slams the door behind me.

- Hello, Christian. Yes, I'm glad to see you too.

- Don't talk to me about it. Answer. – Anger sparkles in his eyes.

- Well... I ate yogurt this afternoon. Yes, another banana.

– When was the last time you ate normally? – he asks caustically.

Taylor gets behind the wheel, starts the Audi and joins the traffic.

I look out the window. Jack waves at me, although I don’t know how he sees me through the dark glass. I wave back.

- Who is this? – Christian asks sharply.

- My boss. – I look out of the corner of my eye at the handsome man sitting next to me. His lips are pressed tightly together.

- Well? Your last proper meal?

“Christian, this is none of your business, honestly,” I mutter, feeling unusually brave.

“Everything you do concerns me.” Answer.

- Well? - he insists, more softly.

“Last Friday, pasta with shells,” I answer in a whisper.

He closes his eyes. A shadow of anger and probably regret runs across his face.

“I see,” he says in an impassive tone. “You look a few pounds thinner, maybe more.” Please eat, Anastasia.

I lower my eyes and look at my clasped fingers. Why do I always feel like a stupid, unlucky child next to him?

He turns to me.

- How are you? – he asks softly.

Well, actually, it’s terrible... I swallow the lump in my throat.

– If I say that everything is fine, then I will be lying.

He sighs shakily.

“Me too,” he mutters and squeezes my hand. - I missed you.

Oh, No! I feel the warmth of his fingers on my skin.

- Christian, I...

“Ana, please, we need to talk.”

I'll pay now. No!

“Christian, I... don’t... I cried so much,” I whisper, trying to cope with my emotions.

- No need, baby! “He pulls me by the hand, and before I know it, I’m on his lap. He hugs me and nuzzles his nose into my hair. “I missed you so much, Anastasia,” he says barely audible.

I want to free myself from his hands and keep my distance, but I can’t. He presses me to his chest. I'm filled with bliss. Oh, if only it were always like this!

A few minutes later, Taylor pulls the Audi to the curb, even though we're still in town.

“Come on,” Christian lifts me up lightly, “we’ve arrived.”

- There is a helipad - on the roof of the building. – Christian throws his head back and waves his hand.

Well, of course, "Charlie Tango". Taylor opens the door for me and gives me a warm, protective smile. I smile back.

- I must return your handkerchief.

“Keep it, Miss Steele, with my best wishes.”

I'm blushing. Christian comes out from behind the car and takes my hand. He looks questioningly at Taylor, who answers him with an impassive look.

- At nine? - says Christian.

- Yes, sir.

“Oh God,” I sigh, overwhelmed by the power of this instinctive attraction, as old as life itself.

“I feel it too,” he says. His eyes are clouded with passion.

Desire fills my belly like a dark, deadly plasma. Christian squeezes my hand, caresses the crook of my little finger with his thumb, and every muscle in my body contracts in a sweet spasm.

Where does he have such power over me?

“Anastasia, don’t bite your lip,” he whispers.

I unclench my teeth and look at him pitifully. I want him, immediately, here in the elevator. Could it be otherwise?

“You know yourself what you mean to me.”

Oh, that means he still needs me! My inner goddess, my self-esteem, stirred after five days of hopelessness.

Suddenly the elevator doors slide apart, breaking the spell, and we emerge onto the roof. It's windy here. Despite the black jacket, I'm freezing. Christian puts his arm around my shoulders, pulls me close, and we quickly walk to the middle of the helipad. Charlie Tango sits there, its blades spinning slowly.

A tall, blond, square-jawed guy jumps out of the cab and, crouching, runs towards us. After exchanging a firm handshake with Christian, he shouts over the noise of the rotors:

- The car is ready, sir. At your disposal!

– Have you checked everything?

- Yes, sir.

“Will you pick her up at about eight thirty?”

- Yes, sir.

“Taylor is waiting for you at the entrance.”

- Thank you, Mr. Gray. Happy flying to Portland. Ma’am...” He smiles politely at me.

Without releasing my hand, Christian nods to the pilot and, bending down, leads me to the doors of the helicopter.

Inside he straps me in, tightens the straps tight. Meaningfully, with a mysterious smile.

“Now you’re not going anywhere,” he mutters. “I have to admit, I like that bandage on you.” Yeah, don't touch anything.

I blush deeply as he runs his index finger across my cheek. Then he hands over the headphones. “I would like to touch you too, but you don’t allow me.” … » I frown. Besides, he tightened the straps so tightly that I could barely move.

Christian sits in the pilot's seat and buckles himself in, then goes through all the pre-flight checks. Acts confidently and quickly. I watch in fascination. He puts on his headphones, flicks a switch, and the blades spin faster, deafening me with a low rumble.

He turns to me.

There is a smile on his lips - mischievous, boyish. I haven't seen her for so long!

– SeaTac Tower, this is Charlie Tango, Golf Echo Hotel, ready for Portland via PDX. How can you hear me? Reception.

- Roger, tower, this is Charlie Tango, end of line.

Christian clicks two switches, grabs the control stick, and the helicopter slowly and smoothly soars into the evening sky.

Seattle and my stomach are falling down, rapidly moving away from us.

“Once upon a time we chased the dawn, and it ran away from us, now we drive away the darkness,” his voice sounds in the headphones.

I'm wide-eyed in surprise. What's happened? I can't believe my ears. Is he really capable of such romance? He smiles and I shyly smile back.

“This time, in the evening sun, everything will look much more beautiful,” he says.

Last time we flew to Seattle it was dark. That same evening the view is stunning, literally unearthly. We gain altitude, flying between tall skyscrapers.

“There’s my Escala,” he nods toward the building, “the Boeing is there, and now the Space Needle is approaching.”

“I’ve never been there before,” I sigh, craning my neck.

- I'll show it to you - we'll have dinner there.

- Christian, we broke up.

- I know. But I’ll still take you there and feed you,” he gets angry.

I shake my head and realize it's better not to argue.

- It’s very beautiful here, thank you.

- Impressive, isn't it?

“It’s impressive that you can show me all this.”

“Crude flattery, huh, Miss Steele?” But I am truly blessed with many talents.

“I can see it perfectly, Mr. Gray.”

He turns his head and grins. For the first time in five days, I'm relaxing a little. Maybe things aren't so bad.

– How do you like your new job?

- OK, thank you. Interesting.

– What is the new boss like?

- Well, normal.

I can't say that I'm bothered by Jack's attention, can I? Christian narrows his eyes.

- Is there something wrong?

- No, everything is fine, except for the obvious.

- Obvious?

“Oh, Christian, honestly, you just annoy me sometimes.”

- Can I get it? I? I don't like your tone, Miss Steele.

– If you don’t like it, that’s fine.

His lips curl into a grin.

“I missed your cute, cheeky mouth, Anastasia.”

I want to shout: “I missed you - all of you - not only without your voice, your lips!..” But I just silently look through the windshield of Charlie Tango, which looks like the convex wall of an aquarium. We continue to fly south. The sun hangs above the horizon - big, orange, dangerous - and I again feel like Icarus, at risk of burning in its fire.

The darkness is following us from Seattle. The sky was adorned with opal, purple and aquamarine waves, smoothly merging into each other, as only Mother Nature can do. The evening air is clean and clear. The lights of Portland twinkle and wink as they greet us as Christian lands the helicopter on the landing pad. We are back at the top of the strange brick structure from which we left less than three weeks ago.

It would seem, what is three weeks? Yes, it's a small thing. And yet I feel like I've known Christian all my life. He turns off the Charlie Tango's engine by flipping various switches. The blades slowly stop, and soon all I can hear in my headphones is my own breathing. Hmmm. Suddenly, for some reason, I remember the organ masses of Thomas Tallis, which had such an amazing effect on me. The pulse quickens. I don't want to leave here.

Christian unbuckles the straps and turns to free me from my harness. There's a sparkle in his eyes.

– Did you enjoy the flight, Miss Steele? – he asks in a gentle voice.

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Gray,” I answer politely.

- Well, now let's go look at the photos of your friend.

He gives me his hand and I lean on it to get out of Charlie Tango.

A gray-bearded man walks towards us and smiles broadly. I recognize him, I saw him last time.

- Hello, Joy. – Christian, releasing my hand, exchanges a friendly handshake with him.

- Look after the car. Stephen will pick her up after eight.

- It will be done, Mr. Gray. Ma’am,” he nods politely at me, “your car is waiting downstairs, sir.” Oh yes, the elevator doesn't work. You will have to walk.

- Thank you, Joy.

Christian takes my hand and we walk towards the stairs.

“It’s good that there are only three floors here.” “You’re wearing those heels,” he mutters disapprovingly.

Jokes aside.

– Don’t you like these ankle boots?

– I really like it, Anastasia. “He squints and, in my opinion, wants to say something else, but falls silent. - OK. Let's go slowly. It wasn't enough for you to trip and break your neck.

The driver takes us to the gallery. We sit in silence; The anxiety has returned and torments me with the same intensity, and I understand that the flight time at Charlie Tango was a calm, “the eye of a hurricane.” Christian looks out the window; he is calm and thoughtful, even depressed; our former cheerful mood was gone. I want to say so much, but the trip is too short.

“José is just my friend,” I mutter.

Christian turns around; there is wariness in his eyes. His mouth - ah, his mouth brings back sweet memories in me. I remember him with all my skin, with my whole body - everywhere. Christian frowns.

– Your beautiful eyes now take up half of your face, Anastasia. Please promise me that you will eat.

“Yes, Christian, I’ll eat,” I answer automatically, like a robot.

- I'm talking seriously.

I can't get the mockery out of my voice. Honestly, the audacity of this man who put me through hell these last days is amazing. No, it's not like that... I put myself through hell. No, after all, he... I was completely confused and shook my head.

“I don’t want to fight with you, Anastasia.” I want you to come back, and I want you to be healthy.

- But nothing has changed.

“It’s not for nothing that you’re called Fifty Shades...” I mentally add.

- Let's talk about this on the way back. We've already arrived.

We stop near the gallery, and Christian, leaving me speechless, gets out of the car. He opens the door and offers his hand.

- What am I doing? – Christian is perplexed.

-You say things like that, and then...

– Anastasia, we have arrived where you wanted. Let's go to the gallery. Then we'll talk. I don't want to make a scene on the street.

I look around. He is right. There are a lot of people around. I press my lips tightly together, and he looks at me angrily.

“Okay,” I mutter gloomily.

Squeezing my hand, he leads me into the building.

We find ourselves in a converted warehouse - brick walls, dark wooden floors, white ceilings and a white network of water pipes. Modern, spacious. Visitors wander through the gallery, sipping wine and admiring José's work. For a moment, my worries subside, I realize that my friend has made his dream come true.

Good luck, Jose!

– Good evening, you are welcome to the opening day of Jose Rodriguez.

We are greeted by a young woman dressed in black; she has very short brown hair, bright red lipstick; large earrings in the ears. She looks at me briefly, then for much longer than necessary at Christian, then back at me - and blinks often.

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. He is mine - or was mine. I do my best to remove hostility from my gaze. When her eyes finally focus on me, she blinks again.

- Oh, it's you, Ana. We want you to take part in all this too...

Her lips curling into a smile, she hands me a brochure and directs me to a table laden with drinks and snacks.

- Do you know her? – Christian asks gloomily.

I shake my head, as puzzled as he is.

He shrugs and changes the subject.

- What will you drink?

– Perhaps a glass of white wine.

He wrinkles his brow, but says nothing and walks towards the bar.

Jose makes his way through the crowd.

Dear mother! Really handsome! In costume! All beaming, Jose hugs and squeezes tightly, and I struggle not to burst into tears. He's my friend, my only friend since Kate left. Tears still blur my vision.

“Ana, I’m so glad you were able to come,” Jose whispers in my ear. Then he suddenly leans back and, taking me by the shoulders, examines me.

- What are you doing?

- Hey, are you okay? However, you look gorgeous. Dios mio, have you lost weight?

With an effort of will I drive away the tears - this doesn’t concern him either.

- Jose, everything is fine. I'm so happy for you! Congratulations on the exhibition.

- How did you get there? he asks.

“Christian brought me,” I answer, suddenly feeling anxious.

- Ahh. – Jose’s face darkens and he unclenches his hands. - Where is he?

- Over there, I went for some wine.

I nod towards Christian and see him exchanging pleasantries with someone present. Christian turns around and our eyes meet. And for a brief moment I am paralyzed: I stand and look at an incredibly handsome man who looks at me with some incomprehensible feeling. His gaze burns through me, and now we have forgotten about everything that is happening around us, and we see only each other.

Damn it... This handsome man wants me to return to him. Deep inside me, a bright joy slowly spreads throughout my body, like the morning dawn.

- Ana! – Jose calls out to me, and I reluctantly return to reality. – I’m so glad you’re here! Listen, I have to warn you...

Suddenly Miss Short Hair and Red Lipstick appears nearby.

– Jose, a journalist from Portland Prince wants to talk to you. Let's go to. “She gives me a polite smile.

- Here it is, popularity. Cool? – Jose grins, and I involuntarily grin in response - he’s so happy. “I’ll find you, Ana.”

My friend kisses me on the cheek and hurries towards the girl standing next to the tall, awkward photographer.

Several minutes have passed since Ana left, and I still can’t come to my senses.

She left.

I do not believe in that!

“That's right, Gray. She's not a match for us. Let’s find a new submissive?”, - oh, no, I just lacked the subconscious right now. I told you to pack your things.

The desire to lose myself in alcohol overcomes me. I'm going to the kitchen.

Yes, I'm definitely going to get drunk today. I put Ana’s robe on the bar and find a bottle of whiskey in my bins. Chivas Regal. Just what you need.

I pour whiskey into a glass and am about to drink it when I hear the trill of my phone.

I take out my phone with the hope that it’s Ana, but no, it’s Elena.

“Dear Christian, hello,” she purrs.

You don't call, you don't write. “I’m worried,” she says offendedly.

When did she start to irritate me so much?

Elena, you and I are of course friends, but that doesn’t mean that I have to account for every step I take,” I say irritably, holding a glass in my hand, which could crack at any moment from my pressure.

Honey, what's happening to you? Everything was different before. We...

Elena, I'm sorry. I have to go. Bye,” I interrupt her and switch off.

After meeting with Ana, I realized that what Elena and I were doing was wrong.

Ana helped me a lot, and now she left because of my fault. I pick up the glass again and am already raising it to my mouth when my phone says new mail.

Will they give me a drink today or not? I look at my phone and read.

From: Anastasia Steele
Time: 22:18
Topic: My departure
To: Christian Gray

Christian, forgive me.

You and I are incompatible. I left because I'm afraid it will hurt more later. I love you. And I’d rather leave now than have both of us suffer later.

Goodbye.

WHAT?

She loves Me? How can you love me? I'm a monster. Who needs a person like me? A man who is into BDSM, loves to spank girls and has his own red room.

That's it. Now, I’ll definitely get drunk and no one will stop me! I drink the first glass in one gulp, the second, the third...

What a headache. Is there a third world war? I urgently need a cold shower. He will help me, I just need to get to him first. I lower my feet to the floor and immediately touch an empty bottle of cognac, and it falls.

Cognac? I started with whiskey.

“Yes, Gray, you’ll get drunk so soon,” I say mentally.

I barely make it to the shower. I turn on the water and a cascade of ice water immediately falls on me.

Yes! So much better. After standing in the shower for about five minutes, I finally come out. I wrap myself in a towel and go to the kitchen to assess the scale of the disaster.

They turned out to be very large.

The vase is broken, the flowers are lying on the floor. The head of the figurine lies at my feet, and its entire extension is scattered throughout the living room. Everything is scattered and lying around in an unknown place.

What's waiting for me in the kitchen? It's even worse in the kitchen. Did I break dishes? To my joy, I only broke a couple of plates and my least favorite mug with the inscription: "I love London"
There are two bottles of whiskey and more wine lying on the floor. That's why my head hurts so much.

I take my phone. Phew! I didn't call anyone. No SMS either. Things are already looking up. So, I'm still standing in a towel in the middle of the kitchen.

I need to get dressed.

I return to the room and wander to the dressing room. I put on my pajama pants. I'm definitely not in the mood to work today.

I turn off my phone so no one can touch me. Today I want to think only about my Anya.

Crap! She's not mine now. How bad I feel. It’s not the alcohol that makes me feel bad, but the pain in my heart. What do I have in the bar?

“Gray, drink at 11 am! What are you doing!” my subconscious tells me.

I spit on it and pour myself some Armagnac. Very tasty. So tender and sweet. Just like my Anastasia’s skin.

“I found something to compare with,” says the subconscious, stamping his foot.
Now I will see Ana in everything.

I've already drunk a whole bottle. Maybe I'm a little drunk, but years of training as a teenager have paid off. It doesn't look like I've been drinking. I stand firmly on my feet and walk towards the piano.

Asphyxiation Chopin Prelude E Minor 4.

Just about me. I'm suffocating without her. I can't live. My heart hurts now, although I thought I didn’t have one. The soul is about to turn inside out.

I never thought that after leaving ~~subs~~ Ana I will feel this way. But Ana is not a submissive, she did not sign the contract.
Yes, even if she signed it anyway, she cannot be herself.

“You just can’t do it any other way.” - my subconscious hisses.

It's right. I can't stand any other relationship.

Erica Leonard James

Fifty Shades of Gray

Series: Fifty shades – 1

Scan, Illustr, OCR, ReadCheck - FaerSalamandra; Conv - Crimean

"Erica Leonard James "Fifty Shades of Grey"":

Eksmo; Moscow; 2012; ISBN 978-5-699-58699-8

Translation: T. Kitaina M. Klevetenko

annotation

“Fifty Shades of Gray” is the first part of the E L James trilogy, which made the author famous and broke all sales records: 15 million copies in three months. According to Liss Stern, founder of DivaMoms.com, “These books can ignite the fire of love between long-time spouses. Reading them will make you feel sexy again.”

Erica Leonard James

FIFTY SHADES OF GRAY

Niall, lord of my universe

Acknowledgments

I am indebted to many people for their help and support.

Thanks to my husband Niall for being tolerant of my hobby, taking care of the house and doing the first editing.

Thanks to my boss Lisa for putting up with me for the last year while this craze lasted.

S.S.L. – nothing but thank you.

Thanks to the first readers for their help and support.

S.R. – thank you for the useful advice at the very beginning.

Sue – thanks for choosing me.

Amanda and everyone at Writers Coffee Shop – thank you for taking a chance on me.

Chapter 1

I look at my reflection in the mirror with disgust. Why do I have such hair - it sticks out in all directions! And why did Catherine Kavanagh manage to get sick, and I’m suffering!.. Now, instead of preparing for final exams, which are just under a week away, I’m trying to somehow smooth out my unruly curls. “You can’t go to bed with a wet head, you can’t go to bed with a wet head,” repeating this mantra several times, I again try to get my hair in order and roll my eyes in exhaustion. A pale girl with dark brown hair and blue eyes that are too big for her face looks at me from the mirror. The only option is to pull everything into a ponytail at the back of the head: that way at least it will look decent.

Kate is my roommate. And just on the day when she was scheduled to interview for the student newspaper with some industrial tycoon I had never heard of in my life, she came down with the flu. So I will have to go. I have exams on the horizon, an unfinished essay, and I'm supposed to be working tonight, but instead I'm going to drive one hundred and sixty-five miles into downtown Seattle to meet with the CEO of Gray Enterprises. The mysterious Mr. Gray, a prominent entrepreneur and major donor to our university, a man whose time is extremely valuable - much more valuable than mine - agreed to be interviewed by Kate. Incredible luck, she said. Damn her social activities!

Kate settled on the sofa in the living room.

– Ana, don’t be angry! I spent nine months trying to persuade him to give an interview. And for another six months I will ask for a transfer. By then we will both graduate from university. As an editor, I can't miss this chance. Oh please!

Kate begs me in a hoarse, cold voice. How does she do this? Even sick, she is as beautiful as an elf: her golden-red hair lies hair to hair, and her green eyes, red and watery, still shine.

“Of course I’ll go, Kate.” Go to bed. Should I buy some Nyquil? Or Tylenol?

- Nyquil, please. Don't forget to take my questions and a portable voice recorder. You just need to click on record. I'll decipher it later.

“I don’t know anything about him,” I mutter, trying to suppress a panic attack.

– You have ready-made questions – that’s half the battle. Go, otherwise you'll be late. It's a long way to go.

- Okay, I'm going. Go to bed. I made you some soup, heat it up later.

I look at her with tenderness. "Only for you, Kate."

- Fine. Good luck. Thank you Ana, you are my savior as always.

I smile wryly and, taking my bag, go outside to the car. I just can’t believe that I allowed myself to be persuaded. However, Kate will talk anyone out of it. She will make an excellent journalist. She has all the data for this: a clear mind, will, drive, and the ability to persuade. And besides, she is simply beautiful and my very, very favorite friend.

I leave Vancouver, Washington early this morning on Highway 1-5. There are still few cars on the roads, and I only need to be in Seattle at two. Luckily, Kate lent me her Mercedes SLK sports car. It’s unlikely that Wanda, my old Volkswagen Beetle, would have been able to cover this distance in such a short time. It's a pleasure to drive the Merc: I push the gas to the limit, and the miles fly by one after another.

I'm on my way to the headquarters of Mr. Gray's global empire. This huge twenty-story office building made of intricately curved glass and metal is an architect's utilitarian fantasy. Above the glass entrance doors there is a discreet inscription in steel letters - “Gray House”. It's a quarter to two - thank God I'm not late! – I enter a huge, frankly intimidating hall, decorated with white sandstone.

An attractive, well-groomed blonde smiles warmly at me from behind the table. She's wearing a stunning gray jacket with a white blouse. She looks immaculate.

“I have an appointment with Mr. Gray.” Anastasia Steele replaces Catherine Kavanagh.

- Just a minute, Miss Steele. – The blonde slightly arches her eyebrow.

I stand in front of her, terribly embarrassed, and I regret that I didn’t borrow Kate’s jacket and showed up here in a blue jacket. I put on my only skirt, brown knee-high boots and a blue jumper. By my standards, it's very elegant. I tuck a stray curl behind my ear and pretend like I’m not scared at all.

“Miss Kavanagh has an appointment.” Please sign here, Miss Steele. Last elevator on the right, twentieth floor.

The blonde smiles kindly, watching me sign my name: she seems to be laughing.

She hands over a pass with “Visitor” written on it in large letters. I can't help but grin stupidly. Well, of course, it’s written on my forehead that I’m just a visitor. There's no place for people like that here. “And this is nothing new,” I sigh to myself. Having said my thanks, I walk towards the elevators, past two security guards dressed in black, well-tailored suits. They look much more elegant than me.

The elevator takes me to the twentieth floor at deadly speed. The doors automatically swing open, and I find myself in another large hall - again glass, steel and white sandstone. In front of me is another table and another blonde in a black business suit and white blouse, who stands up when she sees me.

“Miss Steele, could you wait here?” “She points to a row of chairs upholstered in white leather.

Behind the leather chairs is a spacious meeting room, enclosed by a glass wall, with long dark wood tables and at least twenty identical chairs on either side. Behind them is a floor-to-ceiling window that offers a skyline of Seattle all the way to the bay. The view is stunning and I stand transfixed for a moment, captivated. Great!

Sitting down on the chair, I take the questions out of my bag and look through them again, mentally cursing Kate for not giving me at least a short biography of Mr. Gray. I don’t know anything about the person I’m going to interview. He could just as easily be thirty or ninety. The unknown is terribly annoying, and out of excitement I begin to fidget in my chair. I never liked doing face-to-face interviews. Much better is the anonymity of press conferences, where you can sit quietly in the back row. To be completely honest, I would rather curl up in a chair and delve into a classic British novel than sit, exhausted from excitement, in huge transparent halls.

Gratitude

Prologue

Chapter 1

E L James Fifty shades darker

* * *

Gratitude

Prologue

Chapter 1

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