This interview is a favor to him-one that I mean to cash in on later when it suits me. We’ve done business together, and he seems like a shrewd operator and a rational human being. I know her father, Eamon, the owner of Kavanagh Media. “It’s Miss Anastasia Steele who’s here, sir.” “Steele? I was expecting Katherine Kavanagh.” “Miss Anastasia Steele is here to see you, Mr. At least I can keep this interview short. “Yes,” I snap at Andrea, as if she’s to blame. Why the hell did I agree to this? I loathe interviews-inane questions from ill-informed, envious people intent on probing my private life. I have to endure an interview with the persistent Miss Kavanagh for the WSU student newspaper. What the hell is keeping her? I check my schedule and reach for the phone.ĭamn. This reminds me-Ros is supposed to come back to me with numbers and logistics. The sobering truth is that the only thing to capture my interest recently has been my decision to send two freighters of cargo to Sudan. I shouldn’t feel this way, not after several bouts with Bastille. I’ve worked all weekend, and now, in the continued confines of my office, I’m restless. My days are blending together with no distinction, and I need some kind of diversion. My mood is as flat and gray as the weather. I detest golf, but so much business is done on the fairways, I have to endure his lessons there, too…and though I hate to admit it, playing against Bastille does improve my game.Īs I stare out the window at the Seattle skyline, the familiar ennui seeps unwelcome into my consciousness. Bastille is the only one who can beat me, and now he wants another pound of flesh on the golf course. His parting words rub salt into my wounds because, despite my heroic attempts during our workout today, my personal trainer has kicked my ass. “Golf, this week, Grey.” Bastille grins with easy arrogance, knowing that his victory on the golf course is assured. “TOMORROW,” I MUTTER, DISMISSING Claude Bastille as he stands at the threshold of my office. I stop the treadmill, breathless, and head down to the shower to start another monotonous day. I’ve nothing but meetings, though I’m seeing my personal trainer later for a workout at my office-Bastille is always a welcome challenge.
#Fifty shades of grey online tv#
I head upstairs to my gym, switch on the TV for the morning business news, and step onto the treadmill. Outside, a leaden sky promises rain, and I’m not in the mood to be rained on during my run today. What the hell was that about? I grasp at the fragments as they recede, but fail to catch any of them.ĭismissing it, like I do most mornings, I climb out of bed and find some newly laundered sweats in my walk-in closet. I open my eyes and my dream fades in the early-morning light.
I pull her hand and she lies back and closes her eyes. But Mommy stays on the couch staring at the wall.
Today she sits on the couch staring at the wall. I like when Mommy plays with the cars and me.
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