“My room? You’re expecting me to move in?” she squeaks in disbelief.
Okay. Maybe I should have left this until later.
“Not full-time,” I reassure her. “Just, say, Friday evening through Sunday. We have to talk about all that. Negotiate. If you want to do this.”
“I’ll sleep here?”
“Yes.”
“Not with you.”
“No. I told you, I don’t sleep with anyone, except you when you’re stupefied with drink.”
“Where do you sleep?”
“My room is downstairs. Come, you must be hungry.”
“Weirdly, I seem to have lost my appetite,” she declares, with her familiar stubborn expression.
“You must eat, Anastasia.”
Her eating habits will be one of the first issues I’ll work on if she agrees to be mine…that, and her fidgeting.
Stop getting ahead of yourself, Grey!
“I’m fully aware that this is a dark path I’m leading you down, Anastasia, which is why I really want you to think about this.”
She follows me downstairs into the living room once more. “You must have some questions. You’ve signed your NDA; you can ask me anything you want and I’ll answer.”
If this is going to work, she’s going to have to communicate. In the kitchen I open the fridge and find a large plate of cheese and some grapes. Gail wasn’t expecting me to have company, and this is not enough…I wonder if I should order some takeout. Or perhaps take her out?
Like a date.
Another date.
I don’t want to raise expectations like that.
I don’t do dates.
Only with her…
The thought is irritating. There’s a fresh baguette in the bread basket. Bread and cheese will have to do. Besides, she says she’s not hungry.
“Sit.” I point to one of the barstools and Ana sits down and gives me a level gaze.
“You mentioned paperwork,” she says.
“Yes.”
“What paperwork?”
“Well, apart from the NDA, a contract saying what we will and won’t do. I need to know your limits, and you need to know mine. This is consensual, Anastasia.”
“And if I don’t want to do this?”
Shit.
“That’s fine,” I lie.
“But we won’t have any sort of relationship?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“This is the only sort of relationship I’m interested in.”
“Why?”
“It’s the way I am.”
“How did you become this way?”
“Why is anyone the way they are? That’s kind of hard to answer. Why do some people like cheese and other people hate it? Do you like cheese? Mrs. Jones—my housekeeper—has left this for a late supper.” I place the plate in front of her.
“What are your rules that I have to follow?”
“I have them written down. We’ll go through them once we’ve eaten.”
“I’m really not hungry,” she whispers.
“You will eat.”
The look she gives me is defiant.
“Would you like another glass of wine?” I ask, as a peace offering.
“Yes, please.”
I pour wine into her glass and sit down beside her. “Help yourself to food, Anastasia.”
She takes a few grapes.
That’s it? That’s all you’re eating?
“Have you been like this for a while?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Is it easy to find women who want to do this?”
Oh, if you only knew. “You’d be amazed.” My tone is wry.
“Then why me? I really don’t understand.” She’s utterly bemused.
Baby, you’re beautiful. Why wouldn’t I want to do this with you?
“Anastasia, I’ve told you. There’s something about you. I can’t leave you alone. I’m like a moth to a flame. I want you very badly, especially now, when you’re biting your lip again.”
“I think you have that cliché the wrong way around,” she says softly, and it’s a disturbing confession.
“Eat!” I order, to change the subject.
“No. I haven’t signed anything yet, so I think I’ll hang on to my free will for a bit longer, if that’s okay with you.”
Oh…her smart mouth.
“As you wish, Miss Steele.” And I hide my smirk.
“How many women?” she asks, and she pops a grape into that mouth.
“Fifteen.” I have to look away.
“For long periods of time?”
“Some of them, yes.”
“Have you ever hurt anyone?”
“Yes.”
“Badly?”
“No.” Dawn was fine, if a little shaken by the experience. And if I’m honest, so was I.
“Will you hurt me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Physically, will you hurt me?”
Only what you can take.
“I will punish you when you require it, and it will be painful.”
For example, when you get drunk and put yourself at risk.
“Have you ever been beaten?” she asks.
“Yes.”
Many, many times. Elena was devilishly handy with a cane. It’s the only touch I could tolerate.
Her eyes widen and she puts the uneaten grapes on her plate and takes another sip of wine. Her lack of appetite is irritating and is affecting mine. Perhaps I should just bite the bullet and show her the rules.
“Let’s discuss this in my study. I want to show you something.”