“That’s not a question.” He’s terse.

“Sorry.” I squirm, and he’s made me feel like an errant child. I try again. “Have you

had to sacrifice a family life for your work?”

“I have a family. I have a brother and a sister and two loving parents. I’m not inter-

ested in extending my family beyond that.”

“Are you gay, Mr. Grey?”

He inhales sharply, and I cringe, mortified. Crap.Why didn’t I employ some kind

of filter before I read this straight out? How can I tell him I’m just reading the questions?

Damn Kate and her curiosity!

“No Anastasia, I’m not.” He raises his eyebrows, a cool gleam in his eyes. He does

not look pleased.

“I apologize. It’s um… written here.” It’s the first time he’s said my name. My heart-

beat has accelerated, and my cheeks are heating up again. Nervously, I tuck my loosened

hair behind my ear.

He cocks his head to one side.

“These aren’t your own questions?”

The blood drains from my head. Oh no.

“Err… no. Kate – Miss Kavanagh – she compiled the questions.”

“Are you colleagues on the student paper?” Oh crap.I have nothing to do with the

student paper. It’s her extra-curricular activity, not mine. My face is aflame.

“No. She’s my roommate.”

He rubs his chin in quiet deliberation, his gray eyes appraising me.

“Did you volunteer to do this interview?” he asks, his voice deadly quiet.

Hang on, who’s supposed to be interviewing whom? His eyes burn into me, and I’m

compelled to answer with the truth.

“I was drafted. She’s not well.” My voice is weak and apologetic.

“That explains a great deal.”

There’s a knock at the door, and Blonde Number Two enters.

“Mr. Grey, forgive me for interrupting, but your next meeting is in two minutes.”

“We’re not finished here, Andrea. Please cancel my next meeting.”

Andrea hesitates, gaping at him. She’s appears lost. He turns his head slowly to face

her and raises his eyebrows. She flushes bright pink. Oh good. It’s not just me.

“Very well, Mr. Grey,” she mutters, then exits. He frowns, and turns his attention back

to me.

“Where were we, Miss Steele?”

Oh, we’re back to ‘Miss Steele’ now.

“Please don’t let me keep you from anything.”

“I want to know about you. I think that’s only fair.” His gray eyes are alight with cu-

riosity. Double crap. Where’s he going with this? He places his elbows on the arms of

the chair and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth. His mouth is very… distracting. I

swallow.

“There’s not much to know,” I say, flushing again.

“What are your plans after you graduate?”

I shrug, thrown by his interest. Come to Seattle with Kate, find a place, find a job.I

haven’t really thought beyond my finals.

“I haven’t made any plans, Mr. Grey. I just need to get through my final exams.”

Which I should be studying for now rather than sitting in your palatial, swanky, sterile of-

fice, feeling uncomfortable under your penetrating gaze.

“We run an excellent internship program here,” he says quietly. I raise my eyebrows

in surprise. Is he offering me a job?

“Oh. I’ll bear that in mind,” I murmur, completely confounded. “Though I’m not sure

I’d fit in here.” Oh no. I’m musing out loud again.

“Why do you say that?” He cocks his head to one side, intrigued, a hint of a smile

playing on his lips.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” I’m uncoordinated, scruffy, and I’m not blonde.

“Not to me,” he murmurs. His gaze is intense, all humor gone, and strange muscles

deep in my belly clench suddenly. I tear my eyes away from his scrutiny and stare blindly

down at my knotted fingers. What’s going on?I have to go – now. I lean forward to re-

trieve the recorder.

“Would you like me to show you around?” he asks.

“I’m sure you’re far too busy, Mr. Grey, and I do have a long drive.”

“You’re driving back to WSU in Vancouver?” He sounds surprised, anxious even. He

glances out of the window. It’s begun to rain. “Well, you’d better drive carefully.” His tone

is stern, authoritative. Why should he care? “Did you get everything you need?” he adds.

“Yes sir,” I reply, packing the recorder into my satchel. His eyes narrow, speculatively.

“Thank you for the interview, Mr. Grey.”

“The pleasure’s been all mine,” he says, polite as ever.

As I rise, he stands and holds out his hand.

“Until we meet again, Miss Steele.” And it sounds like a challenge, or a threat, I’m

not sure which. I frown. When will we ever meet again? I shake his hand once more,

astounded that that odd current between us is still there. It must be my nerves.

“Mr. Grey.” I nod at him. Moving with lithe athletic grace to the door, he opens it wide.

“Just ensuring you make it through the door, Miss Steele.” He gives me a small smile.

Obviously, he’s referring to my earlier less-than-elegant entry into his office. I flush.

“That’s very considerate, Mr. Grey,” I snap, and his smile widens. I’m glad you find

me entertaining,I glower inwardly, walking into the foyer. I’m surprised when he follows

me out. Andrea and Olivia both look up, equally surprised.

“Did you have a coat?” Grey asks.

“Yes.” Olivia leaps up and retrieves my jacket, which Grey takes from her before she

can hand it to me. He holds it up and, feeling ridiculously self-conscious, I shrug it on.

Grey places his hands for a moment on my shoulders. I gasp at the contact. If he notices

my reaction, he gives nothing away. His long index finger presses the button summoning

the elevator, and we stand waiting – awkwardly on my part, coolly self-possessed on his.

The doors open, and I hurry in desperate to escape. I really need to get out of here.When

I turn to look at him, he’s leaning against the doorway beside the elevator with one hand

on the wall. He really is very, very good-looking. It’s distracting. His burning gray eyes

gaze at me.

“Anastasia,” he says as a farewell.

“Christian,” I reply. And mercifully, the doors close.

My heart is pounding. The elevator arrives on the first floor, and I scramble out as soon as

the doors slide open, stumbling once, but fortunately not sprawling on to the immaculate

sandstone floor. I race for the wide glass doors, and I’m free in the bracing, cleansing,

damp air of Seattle. Raising my face, I welcome the cool refreshing rain. I close my eyes

and take a deep, purifying breath, trying to recover what’s left of my equilibrium.

No man has ever affected me the way Christian Grey has, and I cannot fathom why.

Is it his looks? His civility? Wealth? Power? I don’t understand my irrational reaction.

I breathe an enormous sigh of relief. What in heaven’s name was that all about? Leaning

against one of the steel pillars of the building, I valiantly attempt to calm down and gather

my thoughts. I shake my head. Holy crap – what wasthat? My heart steadies to its regular

rhythm, and I can breathe normally again. I head for the car.

As I leave the city limits behind, I begin to feel foolish and embarrassed as I replay the

interview in my mind. Surely, I’m over-reacting to something that’s imaginary. Okay, so

he’s very attractive, confident, commanding, at ease with himself – but on the flip side, he’s

arrogant, and for all his impeccable manners, he’s autocratic and cold. Well, on the surface.

An involuntary shiver runs down my spine. He may be arrogant, but then he has a right to

be – he’s accomplished so much at such a young age. He doesn’t suffer fools gladly, but