Fifty Shades of Grey by E. L. James Page A

about.” He pops a small piece of muffin into his mouth and starts to chew it slowly, not taking his eyes off me. And as if on cue, I blush. Crap!
    “Do you always make such personal observations?”
    “I hadn’t realized I was. Have I offended you?” He sounds surprised.
    “No,” I answer truthfully.
    “Good.”
    “But you’re very high-handed,” I retaliate quietly.
    He raises his eyebrows and, if I’m not mistaken, he flushes slightly too.
    “I’m used to getting my own way, Anastasia,” he murmurs. “In all things.”
    “I don’t doubt it. Why haven’t you asked me to call you by your first name?” I’m surprised by my audacity. Why has this conversation become so serious? This isn’t going the way I thought it was going to go. I can’t believe I’m feeling so antagonistic towards him.
    It’s like he’s trying to warn me off.
    “The only people who use my given name are my family and a few close friends.
    That’s the way I like it.”
    Oh. He still hasn’t said, ‘Call me Christian.’ He is a control freak, there’s no other explanation, and part of me is thinking maybe it would have been better if Kate had interviewed him. Two control freaks together. Plus of course she’s almost blonde – well, strawberry blonde – like all the women in his office. And she’s beautiful, my subconscious reminds me. I don’t like the idea of Christian and Kate. I take a sip of my tea, and Grey eats another small piece of his muffin.
    “Are you an only child?” he asks.
    Whoa … he keeps changing direction.
    “Yes.”
    “Tell me about your parents.”
    Why does he want to know this? It’s so dull.
    “My mom lives in Georgia with her new husband Bob. My stepdad lives in Montesano.”
    “Your father?”
    “My father died when I was a baby.”
    “I’m sorry,” he mutters and a fleeting troubled look crosses his face.
    “I don’t remember him.”
    “And your mother remarried?”
    I snort.
    “You could say that.”
    He frowns at me.
    “You’re not giving much away, are you?” he says dryly, rubbing his chin as if in deep thought.
    “Neither are you.”
    “You’ve interviewed me once already, and I can recollect some quite probing questions then.” He smirks at me.
    Holy shit. He’s remembering the ‘gay’ question. Once again, I’m mortified. In years to come, I know, I’ll need intensive therapy to not feel this embarrassed every time I recall the moment. I start babbling about my mother – anything to block that memory.
    “My mom is wonderful. She’s an incurable romantic. She’s currently on her fourth husband.”
    Christian raises his eyebrows in surprise.
    “I miss her,” I continue. “She has Bob now. I just hope he can keep an eye on her and pick up the pieces when her harebrained schemes don’t go as planned.” I smile fondly. I haven’t seen my mom for so long. Christian is watching me intently, taking occasional sips of his coffee. I really shouldn’t look at his mouth. It’s unsettling. Those lips.
    “Do you get along with your stepfather?”
    “Of course. I grew up with him. He’s the only father I know.”
    “And what’s he like?”
    “Ray? He’s… taciturn.”
    “That’s it?” Grey asks, surprised.
    I shrug. What does this man expect? My life story?
    “Taciturn like his stepdaughter,” Grey prompts.
    I refrain from rolling my eyes at him.
    “He likes soccer – European soccer especially – and bowling, and fly-fishing, and making furniture. He’s a carpenter. Ex-army.” I sigh.
    “You lived with him?”
    “Yes. My mom met Husband Number Three when I was fifteen. I stayed with Ray.”
    He frowns as if he doesn’t understand.
    “You didn’t want to live with your mom?” he asks.
    I blush. This really is none of his business.
    “Husband Number Three lived in Texas. My home was in Montesano. And… you know my mom was newly married.” I stop. My mom never talks about Husband Number Three. Where is Grey going with this? This is none of