can take you – if you can’t be honest with me, then we really can’t do this.”

Oh my,we’ve cut to the chase quickly. How far he can take me.Holy shit. What does

that mean?

“So it’s quite simple, Anastasia. Do you trust me or not?” His eyes are burning, fer-

vent.“Did you have similar discussions with um… the fifteen?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because they were all established submissives. They knew what they wanted out of

a relationship with me and generally what I expected. With them, it was just a question of

fine-tuning the soft limits, details like that.”

“Is there a store you go to? Submissives R Us?”

He laughs.

“Not exactly.”

“Then how?”

“Is that what you want to discuss? Or shall we get down to the nitty-gritty? Your is-

sues, as you say.”

I swallow. Do I trust him?Is that what this all comes down to – trust? Surely that

should be a two-way thing. I remember his snit when I phoned José.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, distracting me from my thoughts.

Oh no… food.

“No.”

“Have you eaten today?”

I stare at him. Honesty…Holy crap, he’s not going to like my answer.

“No.” My voice is small.

He narrows his eyes.

“You have to eat, Anastasia. We can eat down here or in my suite. What would you

prefer?”

“I think we should stay in public, on neutral ground.”

He smiles sardonically.

“Do you think that would stop me?” he says softly, a sensual warning.

My eyes widen, and I swallow again.

“I hope so.”

“Come, I have a private dining room booked. No public.” He smiles at me enigmati-

cally and climbs out of the booth, holding his hand out to me.

“Bring your wine,” he murmurs.

Placing my hand in his, I slide out and stand up beside him. He releases me, and his

hand reaches for my elbow. He leads me back through the bar and up the grand stairs to a

mezzanine floor. A young man in full Heathman livery approaches us.

“Mr. Grey, this way sir.”

We follow him through a plush seating area to an intimate dining room. Just one

secluded table.The room is small but sumptuous. Beneath a shimmering chandelier,

the table is all starched linen, crystal glasses, silver cutlery, and white rose bouquet. An

old-world, sophisticated charm pervades the wood-paneled room. The waiter pulls out my

chair, and I sit. He places my napkin in my lap. Christian sits opposite me. I peek up at

him.“Don’t bite your lip,” he whispers.

I frown. Damn it. I don’t even know that I’m doing it.

“I’ve ordered already. I hope you don’t mind.”

Frankly, I’m relieved, I’m not sure I can make any further decisions.

“No, that’s fine,” I acquiesce.

“It’s good to know that you can be amenable. Now, where were we?”

“The nitty-gritty.” I take another large sip of wine. It really is delicious. Christian

Grey does wine well. I remember the last sip of wine he gave me, in my bed. I blush at

the intrusive thought.

“Yes, your issues.” He fishes into his inside jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper.

My email.

“Clause 2. Agreed. This is for the benefit of us both. I shall redraft.”

I blink at him. Holy shit… we are going to go through each of these points one at a

time. I just don’t feel so brave face to face. He looks so earnest. I steel myself with an-

other sip of my wine. Christian continues.

“My sexual health. Well, all of my previous partners have had blood tests, and I have

regular tests every six months for all the health risks you mention. All my recent tests are

clear. I have never taken drugs. In fact, I’m vehemently anti-drugs. I have a strict no-

tolerance policy with regards to drugs for all my employees, and I insist on random drug

testing.”

Wow… control freakery gone mad. I blink at him shocked.

“I have never had any blood transfusions. Does that answer your question?”

I nod, impassive.

“Your next point I mentioned earlier. You can walk away any time, Anastasia. I won’t

stop you. If you go, however – that’s it. Just so you know.”

“Okay,” I answer softly. If I go, that’s it. The thought is surprisingly painful.

The waiter arrives with our first course. How can I possibly eat? Holy Moses – he’s

ordered oysters on a bed of ice.

“I hope you like oysters,” Christian’s voice is soft.

“I’ve never had one.” Ever.

“Really? Well.” He reaches for one. “All you do is tip and swallow. I think you can

manage that.” He gazes at me, and I know what he’s referring to. I blush scarlet. He grins

at me, squirts some lemon juice onto his oyster, and then tips it into his mouth.

“Hmm, delicious. Tastes of the sea,” he grins at me. “Go on,” he encourages.

“So, I don’t chew it?”

“No, Anastasia, you don’t.” His eyes are alight with humor. He looks so young like

this. I bite my lip, and his expression changes instantly. He looks sternly at me. I reach

across and pick up my first ever oyster. Okay… here goes nothing. I squirt some lemon

juice on it and tip it up. It slips down my throat, all seawater, salt, the sharp tang of citrus,

and fleshiness… ooh. I lick my lips, and he’s watching me intently, his eyes hooded.

“Well?”

“I’ll have another,” I say dryly.

“Good girl,” he says proudly.

“Did you choose these deliberately? Aren’t they known for their aphrodisiac quali-

ties?”“No, they are the first item on the menu. I don’t need an aphrodisiac near you. I think

you know that, and I think you react the same way near me,” he says simply. “So where

were we?” He glances at my email as I reach for another oyster.

He reacts the same way. I affect him… wow.

“Obey me in all things. Yes, I want you to do that. I need you to do that. Think of it

as role-play Anastasia.”

“But I’m worried you’ll hurt me.”

“Hurt you how?”

“Physically.” And emotionally.

“Do you really think I would do that? Go beyond any limit you can’t take?”

“You’ve said you’ve hurt someone before.”

“Yes, I have. It was a long time ago.”

“How did you hurt them?”

“I suspended them from my playroom ceiling. In fact, that’s one of your questions.

Suspension – that’s what the karabiners are for in the playroom. Rope play. One of the

ropes was tied too tightly.”

I hold my hand up begging him to stop.

“I don’t need to know any more. So you won’t suspend me then?”

“Not if you really don’t want to. You can make that a hard limit.”

“Okay.”

“So obeying, do you think you can manage that?”

He stares at me, his gray eyes intense. The seconds tick by.

“I could try,” I whisper.

“Good.” He smiles. “Now term. One month instead of three is no time at all, espe-

cially if you want a weekend away from me each month. I don’t think I’ll be able to stay

away from you for that length of time. I can barely manage it now,” he pauses.

He can’t stay away from me? What?

“How about, one day over one weekend per month you get to yourself – but I get a

midweek night that week?”

“Okay.”

“And please, let’s try it for three months. If it’s not for you then, you can walk away

anytime.”

“Three months?” I’m feeling railroaded. I take another large sip of wine and treat my-

self to another oyster. I could learn to like these.

“The ownership thing, that’s just terminology and goes back to the principle of obey-

ing. It’s to get you into the right frame of mind, to understand where I’m coming from.

And I want you to know that as soon as you cross my threshold as my submissive, I will do

what I like to you. You have to accept that and willingly. That’s why you have to trust me.