“…Of course we’ll make it WiMAX-enabled for the home market,” Fred states.
“And incorporate the capability for satellite Internet access for Africa and India,” Barney adds. “Provided we can get access.” He looks quizzically toward me.
“That’s a little down the line. I’m hoping we can piggyback on the EU GPS system Galileo.” I know this will take a while to negotiate, but we have time. “Marco’s team is looking into it.”
“Tomorrow’s technology today,” Barney states proudly.
“Excellent.” I nod in approval. I turn to my VP of procurement. “Vanessa, where are we with the conflict mineral issue? How are you dealing with it?”
LATER, WE’RE SITTING AROUND the table in my boardroom and Marco is running through the modified business plan for SIP and their contract stipulations following the signing of our revised heads of agreement yesterday.
“They want to embargo the acquisition news for a month,” he says. “Something about not freaking out their authors.”
“Really? Will their authors care?” I ask.
“This is a creative industry,” Ros says gently.
“Whatever.” And I want to roll my eyes.
“You and I have a call scheduled with Jeremy Roach, the owner, at four thirty today.”
“Good. We can hash out remaining details then.” My mind drifts to Anastasia. How is her day going? Has she rolled her eyes at anyone today? What are her work colleagues like? Her boss? I’ve asked Welch to investigate Jack Hyde; just reading Hyde’s employee file, I know there’s something odd about his career trajectory. He started in New York, and now he’s here. Something doesn’t add up. I need to know more about him, especially if Ana is working for him.
I’m also waiting for an update on Leila. Welch has nothing new to report on her whereabouts. It’s like she’s disappeared completely. I can only hope that wherever she is, she’s in a better place.
“Their e-mail monitoring is almost as stringent as ours,” Ros says, interrupting my reverie.
“So?” I ask. “Any company worth its equity has a rigorous e-mail policy.”
“It surprises me for such a small operation. All e-mails are checked by the HR function.”
I shrug. “I don’t have an issue with that.” Though I should warn Ana. “Let’s go through their liabilities.”
ONCE WE’VE DEALT WITH SIP, we move to the next item on the agenda. “We’re going to make a tentative inquiry about the shipyard in Taiwan,” Marco says.
“I don’t see what we’ve got to lose,” Ros agrees.
“My shirt and the goodwill of our workforce?”
“Christian, we don’t have to do it,” Ros says with a sigh.
“It makes financial sense. You know it. I know it. Let’s see how far we can run with this.”
My phone flashes, announcing an e-mail from Ana.
At last!
I’ve been so busy I haven’t managed to contact her since this morning, but she’s been hovering at the edge of my consciousness all day, like a guardian angel. My guardian angel. Ever present but not intrusive.
Mine.
Grey, get a grip.
As Ros lists next steps for the Taiwan project, I read Ana’s e-mail.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Bored…
Date: June 10 2011 16:05
To: Christian Grey
Twiddling my thumbs.
How are you?
What are you doing?
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
Twiddling her thumbs? The thought makes me smile as I recall her fumbling with the tape recorder when she came to interview me.
Are you gay, Mr. Grey?
Ah, sweet, innocent Ana.
No. Not gay.
I love that she’s thinking about me and has taken time out of her day to make contact. It’s…distracting. An unfamiliar warmth seeps into my bones. It makes me uneasy. Really uneasy. Ignoring it, I quickly type a response.
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Your thumbs
Date: June 10 2011 16:15
To: Anastasia Steele
You should have come to work for me.
You wouldn’t be twiddling your thumbs.
I am sure I could put them to better use.
In fact, I can think of a number of options…
Fuck. Not now, Grey.
My eyes meet Ros’s, and I sense her disapproval.
“Urgent response required,” I tell her. She shares a look with Marco.
I am doing the usual humdrum mergers and acquisitions.
It’s all very dry.
Your e-mails at SIP are monitored.
Christian Grey
Distracted CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I can’t wait to see her this evening, and she’s yet to e-mail where we’ll meet. It’s frustrating. But we’ve agreed to try our relationship her way, so I put my phone down and turn my attention back to my meeting.
Patience, Grey. Patience.
We’ve moved on to discuss the mayor of Seattle’s visit to Grey House next week, an appointment I set up when I met him earlier this month.
“Is Sam on this?” Ros asks.
“Like a rash,” I respond. Sam never misses a PR opportunity.
“Okay. If you’re ready I’ll get Jeremy Roach on the line from SIP to go through those final details.”
“Let’s do it.”
BACK IN MY OUTER office, Andrea’s replacement is applying yet more lipstick to her scarlet mouth. I don’t like it. And the color reminds me of Elena. One of the things I love about Ana is that she doesn’t cake herself in lipstick, or any other makeup for that matter. Hiding my disgust, and ignoring the new girl, I head into my office. I can’t even remember her name.
Fred’s revised proposal for Kavanagh Media is open on my desktop, but I’m preoccupied and finding it hard to concentrate. Time is moving on and I’ve not heard from Anastasia; as ever, I’m waiting for Miss Steele. I check my e-mail once more.
Nothing.
I check my phone for texts.
Nothing.
What’s keeping her? I hope it’s not her boss.
There’s a knock on my door.
What now?
“Come in.”
Andrea’s replacement pokes her head around the door and, ping, there’s an e-mail, but it’s not from Ana.
“What?” I bark, trying to remember the woman’s name.
She’s unfazed. “I’m just about to leave, Mr. Grey. Mr. Taylor left this for you.” She holds up an envelope.
“Just leave it on the console there.”
“Do you need me for anything else?”
“No. Go. Thanks.” I give her a thin smile.
“Have a good weekend then, sir,” she offers, simpering.
Oh, I fully intend to.
I dismiss her, but she doesn’t leave. She pauses for a moment, and I realize she’s expecting something from me.
What?
“I’ll see you Monday,” she says with an annoying, nervous giggle.
“Yes. Monday. Shut the door behind you.”
Looking a little crestfallen, she does as she’s told.
What was that about?
I pick up the envelope from the console. It’s the key to Ana’s Audi, and written in Taylor’s tidy hand are the words: Parked in allocated parking space at rear of apartment building.
Back at my desk, I turn my attention to my e-mails, and finally there’s one from Ana. I grin like the Cheshire Cat.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: You’ll Fit Right In
Date: June 10 2011 17:36
To: Christian Grey
We are going to a bar called Fifty’s.