Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 177137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 886(@200wpm)___ 709(@250wpm)___ 590(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 886(@200wpm)___ 709(@250wpm)___ 590(@300wpm)
“Thanks, I’ll take my coffee with me.” I know I sound surly. But right now a certain blue-eyed woman is getting under my skin. Montana leaves and I take a sip of coffee.
Fuck. Shit.
It’s scalding hot.
I drop the cup, the coffee, everything.
Hell.
Fortunately, it misses me and my keyboard, but it’s all over the damn floor.
“Ms. Brooks!” I yell. Jesus, I wish Andrea was here.
Montana pops her head around the door. Neither in. Nor out. And still wearing too much freshly applied lipstick.
“I’ve just dropped my coffee all over the floor because it was scalding hot. Get it cleaned up, please.”
“Oh, Mr. Grey. I’m so sorry.”
She scurries in to survey the mess and I leave her to deal with it. For a moment I wonder whether she might have done this on purpose.
Grey, you’re paranoid.
I grab my phone and decide to take the stairs.
Barney and Fred are sitting at the lab table.
“Good morning, gentlemen.”
“Mr. Grey,” Fred says. “Barney’s cracked it.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. The cover.”
“We put this through the 3D printer, and voila.”
He hands me a compact, hinged plastic cover that’s attached to the tablet. “This is great,” I say. “This must have taken you all weekend.” I stare at Barney.
He shrugs. “Nothing better to do.”
“You need to get out more, Barney. But this is good work. Is that all you wanted to show me?”
“We could easily adapt it and put this on a mobile phone cover, too.”
“I’d like to see that.”
“I’ll get on it.”
“Great. Anything else?”
“That’s it for now, Mr. Grey.”
“Might be worth showing the 3D printer to the mayor when he visits.”
“We’ve got quite the show planned for him,” says Fred.
“Without giving anything away,” adds Barney.
“Sounds great. Thanks for the show-and-tell. I’ll head back upstairs.”
Waiting for the elevator, I check my e-mail. There’s a reply from Ana.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Fifty Shades
Date: June 13 2011 09:55
To: Christian Grey
Christian
You need to get a grip.
I am NOT going to sleep with Jack—not for all the tea in China.
I LOVE you. That’s what happens when people love each other.
They TRUST each other.
I don’t think you are going to SLEEP WITH, SPANK, FUCK, or WHIP anyone else.
I have FAITH and TRUST in you.
Please extend the same COURTESY to me.
Ana
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
What the hell! I told her the e-mails at SIP were monitored.
We stop at several floors and I try, really try, to contain my anger. There’s that irritating, expectant hush within the elevator as my staff enter and exit, because I’m in there.
“Good morning, Mr. Grey.”
“Good morning, Mr. Grey.”
I nod my hellos.
But I’m not in the mood.
Beneath my polite smile, my blood is simmering.
As soon as I’m back in my office I check her work number and call her.
“Jack Hyde’s office, Ana Steele speaking,” she answers.
“Will you please delete the last e-mail you sent me and try to be a little more circumspect in the language you use in your work e-mail? I told you, the system is monitored. I will endeavor to do some damage limitation from here,” I snarl and hang up.
I call Barney.
“Mr. Grey.”
“Can you delete Miss Anastasia Steele’s e-mail to me at nine fifty-five from the SIP server and all mine to her?”
There’s silence at the other end of the phone.
“Barney?”
“Um. Sure, Mr. Grey, I was just working out how I can do it. I have an idea.”
“Great. Let me know when it’s done.”
“Yes, sir.”
My phone lights up. Anastasia.
“What?” I answer, and I think she can tell I’m more than grumpy.
“I am going to New York whether you like it or not.”
“Don’t count on it.”
Silence.
“Ana?”
She’s hung up on me.
Fuck. Again.
Who does that?
Well, I might have just done it to her, but that’s not the point.
And I remember she did it when she drunk-dialed me.
I put my head in my hands.
Ana. Ana. Ana.
My office phone buzzes.
“Grey.”
“Mr. Grey, Barney. It was much easier than I thought. Those e-mails are no longer on the SIP server.”
“Thanks, Barney.”
“No worries, Mr. Grey.”
At least something is going right.
There’s a knock on the door.
What now?
Montana opens the door; she’s holding a can of carpet cleaner and some tissue.
“Later,” I snap. I’ve had enough of her. She quickly reverses out of the office. I take a deep breath. Today is turning into a shit day and it’s not even lunchtime. There’s another e-mail from Ana.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: What have you done?
Date: June 13 2011 10:43
To: Christian Grey
Please tell me you won’t interfere with my work.
I really want to go to this conference.
I shouldn’t have to ask you.
I have deleted the offending e-mail.
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
I respond immediately.
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: What have you done?
Date: June 13 2011 10:46
To: Anastasia Steele
I am just protecting what is mine.
The e-mail that you so rashly sent is wiped from the SIP server now, as are my e-mails to you.
Incidentally, I trust you implicitly. It’s him I don’t trust.