“Mr. Grey, Miss Anastasia Steele for Miss Katherine Kavanagh is here.” I hate surprises. I
should not have agreed to give an interview to WSU magazine, but then Miss Kavanagh hadbeen quite persistent, and she comes from a business family, whose father I can do business
with in return of this favor. But someone else shows up in her place? I’m petulant like a child to
“I wasn’t expecting a Miss Steele. I was expecting Katherine Kavanagh!”
“It’s Miss Steele who is here, sir,”
I grumble, “Fine! Send her in!”
Less than a minute later the door opens, and a tangle of chestnut brown hair, pale arms,a messenger bag, indistinctly dressed pale legs in brown boots roll into my office floor sprawledheadlong. Although I hate clumsiness, courtesy demands that I go and help her up, and reachout and get her into upright position holding her slim shoulders. As she stands up, I meet thebrightest blue, shy eyes capture mine as a jolt of electricity halt me in my tracks. She looks atme, through me, as if to dig into my soul, unnerving me, as if shining a light to the depths of mybeing and pulling it to the surface.
She blinks, blushing after noticing my face. I grimace, but quickly smile. It’s always the
same. Women react to my face that way, tongue tied.
I extend my hand, deciding to have fun. “Miss Kavanagh. I’m Christian Grey. I hopeyou’re alright. Would you like to sit?”
She blushes, her pearlesque skin changes color to her hairline blushing, bringing hergaze down, her ponytail nearly undone with the tumble she took, her voice stutters briefly as Ireceive her tiny hand in mine. I feel a jolt of electricity with her touch! Wow! She must feel thesame way because she looks as if she got shocked and withdraws her hand with a slight gasp.
“Miss Kavanagh is indisposed. She sent me. She isn’t well. I apologize for the change in
the last minute Mr. Grey." Her voice sounds musical, her long lashes cast a shadow over herblue eyes which are downcast again in that shy manner.
“And you are?” I coax the words out of her.