Fifty Shades of Grey(77)

"I'm really not hungry, Christian." I am reeling from your disclosure.

His expression hardens.

"Eat," he says quietly, too quietly.

I stare at him. This man - sexually abused as an adolescent - his tone is so threatening.

"Give me a moment," I mutter quietly. He blinks a couple of times.

"Okay," he murmurs, and he continues with his meal.

This is what it will be like if I sign, him ordering me around. I frown. Do I want this?

Reaching for my knife and fork, I tentatively cut into the venison. It's very tasty.

"Is this what our err... relationship will be like?" I whisper. "You, ordering me around?" I can't quite bring myself to look at him.

"Yes," he murmurs.

"I see."

"And what's more, you'll want me to," he adds, his voice low.

I sincerely doubt that. I slice another piece of venison, holding it against my mouth.

"It's a big step," I murmur and eat.

"It is." He closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, they are wide and grave.

"Anastasia, you have to go with your gut. Do the research, read the contract - I'm happy to discuss any aspect. I'll be in Portland until Friday if you want to talk about it before then." His words are coming at me in a rush. "Call me - maybe we can have dinner - say, WednesdayI really want to make this work. In fact, I've never wanted anything as much as I want this to work."

His burning sincerity, his longing, is reflected in his eyes. This is fundamentally what I don't grasp. Why me Why not one of the fifteenOh no... Will that be me - a number?

Sixteen of many?

"What happened to the fifteen?" I blurt.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, then looks resigned, shaking his head.

"Various things, but it boils down to," he pauses, struggling to find the words I think.

"Incompatibility." He shrugs.

"And you think that I might be compatible with you?"

"Yes."

"So you're not seeing any of them anymore?"

"No, Anastasia, I'm not. I am monogamous in my relationships."

Oh... this is news.

"I see."

"Do the research, Anastasia."

I put my knife and fork down. I cannot eat any more.

"That's itThat's all you're going to eat?"

I nod. He scowls at me but chooses not to say anything. I breathe a small sigh of relief.

My stomach is churning with all this new information, and I'm feeling a little lightheaded from the wine. I watch as he devours everything on his plate. He eats like a horse. He must work out to stay in such great shape. The memory of the way his PJ's hung from his hips comes unbidden to my mind. The image is totally distracting. I squirm uncomfortably. He glances up at me, and I blush.

"I'd give anything to know what you're thinking right at this moment," he murmurs.

I blush further.

He smiles a wicked smile at me.

"I can guess," he teases softly.

"I'm glad you can't read my mind."

"Your mind, no, Anastasia, but your body - that I've got to know quite well since yesterday." His voice is suggestive. How does he switch so quickly from one mood to the nextHe's so mercurial... It's hard to keep up.

He motions for the waitress and asks for the check. Once he's paid, he stands and holds out his hand.

"Come." Taking my hand in his, he leads me back to the car. This contact, flesh to flesh, it's what is so unexpected from him, normal, intimate. I can't reconcile this ordinary, tender gesture with what he wants to do in that room... The Red Room of Pain.