The Color Grey by Mary Pseudonym

Chapter One - Mr. Grey Will See You Now

I tried to ignore the coughing in the seat beside me. A greater case should have been made for Kate, my best friend and roommate, to stay at home on the couch. However, as Kate said, any journalist worth their salt would not send someone else in their stead. She is right of course. I cannot even imagine what would have happened if she had sent me alone to interview a C.E.O..

My insistence that I drive her was agreed upon eventually; this, of course, I don't mind. Kate's car drives like a dream, a wonderful German engineered dream. Applying the brakes, as we finally hit some track, I take in a look around the city as we come to a slow crawl. It will probably take a couple of minutes before we reach Grey House.

"We won't be late will we?" Kate says. Her voice is croaking, badly. I take a look in the rear view mirror, just glad we aren't further down in the line.

"Not with some patience and good fortune." Just as I finish talking, the cars in front begin to move. I treat Kate to a wry smile as I step on the gas.

Good fortune is indeed on my side as there is a perfect spot right in front of Grey House. It will make for a quick getaway so I can put Kate back to bed as soon as possible. I watch as Kate fumbles with her things, the notes shaking in her hands. The impulse to tell her to cancel the interview is reluctantly suppressed as I know I lost that particular argument hours ago.

"Stay in your seat, I will come around and help," I say, jumping out of the car. Opening the door, I take everything from Kate and step back so she can exit the car without hassle. She is a little shaky but manages to propel the door closed behind her. I stand and listen while the door makes the satisfying locking noise.

Following along behind Kate, I enter Grey House for the first time. Immediately I pull at the dress Kate made me wear, wishing I had listened when she had explained about the level of sophistication Grey House is known for; not to mention Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc., the behemoth company that residents here. It is, quite frankly, intimidating. Everything about the glass, steel, and sandstone has me in awe of the building.

Sitting, with a grace unseen before by mere morals, behind a solid sandstone desk is an extremely attractive blonde young woman. She smiles pleasantly, but I can tell that she is sizing up Kate instantly. Once again I pull at the dress with my free hand, hoping the plum color doesn't look too horrid on me.

"Katherine Kavanagh to see Mr. Grey." Even with her voice breaking, Kate commands the attention she so desires. The blonde behind the desk shifts her gaze to the computer in front of her.

"And you Miss?" She doesn't look up, but her slender fingers tap at the keyboard. Oh god, she is talking to me.

"Anastasia Steele, I am just assisting Miss Kavanagh with her things." My voice tapers off at the end of the sentence. I know she isn't listening. Not that it surprises me. I tuck one of the escaped tendrils of my hair behind my ear as I look at the ground.

"You will both need to sign in." She stresses the word both and before I can react Kate signs her name, handing me the sheet.

I busily write down my name as Kate collects visitor passes from the receptionist. I laugh to myself at how stupid my signature looks when examining the list. Even Kate's looks like it belongs there with all the high power types. My little Ana Steele almost seems like a joke.

"You'll want the last elevator on the right," the receptionist says, looking at only Kate. She pauses, turning her gaze to her monitor. "I will be there in a moment to give you access." With that she is once again typing away at her keyboard.

Once we make our way over, Kate turns on me and pins the visitor pass onto my chest. While donning her own, she presses the up button and squares her shoulders. To me it looks as though she is preparing for battle.

Silently opening, the elevator arrives; before I can even step in, the blonde receptionist appears. I am slightly startled but certain that she and Kate didn't notice the small jump, almost certain anyway. They must train the receptionists how to walk silently on six inch heels. She also manages to make entering a code into the elevator look like important work. Kate and I step in while she exits, not even exchanging a single word.

"How did she know when the elevator would arrive?" I say to Kate, lowering my voice. Kate just shrugs her shoulders.

As the elevator doors close, I can see myself reflected on all four walls. Kate, somehow, seems to have sucked all the sickness back into herself. She looks beautiful and posed, standing strong in her blue business suit and white dress shirt. Myself on the other hand, in a borrowed dress and flat shoes, looks lost and misplaced.

Hell, even Kate's blonde hair blends in with the crowd here at Grey House. Whereas, the closest my chestnut locks come are the few natural golden highlights running throughout. At least, I tell myself as I stare back with large blue eyes from the elevator mirror, my long mane of non-blonde hair is falling in a semi decent manner this morning.

I know that I don't fit in at all, but I cannot seem to find it within myself to care. After all, no one can know what is going on in my head just by looking at me. They don't know that I have not one but two novels tucked into the bag on my shoulder. It really is one of the greatest inconveniences of my life, being two chapters away from the end of a book and needing to go outside.

For the rest of the trip in the elevator, the surprisingly not surprisingly long trip upwards, I watch Kate. I really do worry about her. However, I learnt in freshman year not to get in between her and her goals. It was a lesson I only needed to learn once.

When the elevator doors finally open at the twentieth floor, we are greeted with another desk. This Mr. Grey, C.E.O. must be obsessed with glass, steel, sandstone, and blonde women, because I am confronted with yet another perfect specimen of a woman.

"Miss Kavanagh, Miss Steele?" Her voice is slightly clipped, curt. She is furiously typing at her computer, when she suddenly looks up at us and rises from her chair.

"Yes," Kate says, answering for the both of us.

"Please, wait one moment." With that the new blonde turns and disappears down the hallway to our left.

Kate and I move out of the path in front of elevator; we instead wait over near the large white leather couch. I long to sit, yet Kate stands firm. Maybe sitting is like surrender in the interview world. Perhaps it is just Kate being her tenacious self. I am about to ask her when another blonde woman comes out of the hallway. I wonder what happened to Blonde Number One.

"Thanks for waiting, Miss Kavanagh, Miss Steele," She nods at us as I wonder if a company wide memo went out with our names on it. "Mr. Grey will see you now."

"I'm not going into the meeting, shall I sit over there?" I point to the increasingly enticing couch behind me. The latest blonde nods, until Kate starts to cough with vigor.

"Ana?" Kate says. I can hear the anxiety in her voice. With all the natural talent of a slug worm, I softly hit my head with my right palm and laugh the most fake laugh I have ever heard.

"How silly of me, I am taking notes." The blonde makes a face at me, hiding it quickly. She isn't buying what I am selling. Yet she gestures her hand to the door at the far end of the room.

Rather shakily, I walk towards the door. I can hear, feel, Kate right behind me. Her things are still piled in my hands. Shifting them around to my side, I push open the door marked Mr. Grey, C.E.O.. This I didn't sign up for, but I am a sucker for punishment; plus, I would do anything for a friend.

I can see it happening; feel it happening. The door opens too fast, I stumble through. Tripping over my own two feet, all of the things in my hands fly out in front of me, and I fall head first into the office. Thankfully, I don't land face first; I end up on my hands and knees.

Kate lets out a cry of exclaim from behind me, but I don't really hear it. All that my mind, my body, can focus on is the man standing before me. He is so young, attractive, and he is walking towards me. Now this man can wear a suit and tie. I can feel a blush already beginning to spread across my face.

First impressions are not best made on all fours so as he reaches me, I quickly and awkwardly propel myself up. Shaking his outstretched hand instead of letting him help me to my feet, I try for a weak smile. Since I don't know him I cannot tell if it is shock or concern on his face, that handsome face which is staring directly at me.

"Miss?" He cocks his head to the side. His long-fingered, surprisingly soft, hand is still grasping mine. His light gray eyes search my face for something. I am not sure if they find it.

"Anastasia Steele and I am Katherine Kavanagh." Kate says, sounding so professional; I would feel pride if I could concentrate on anything other than the feelings Mr. Grey is producing within me.

"Christian Grey." Mr. Grey doesn't turn his head to look at Kate, but he does release my hand. "I wasn't aware I would command such attention from Washington State." Right on cue, Kate starts around round of coughing. As I look over at her, I notice she looks beyond embarrassed.

"I am a tad under the weather; Ana here was kind enough to offer to take my notes." Turning my gaze back to Mr. Grey, I notice that he is still looking at me. I immediately drop my eyes to the ground. From the movement around me, I know he has turned to face Kate. Finally.

"I hope it is nothing too serious, Miss Kavanagh." I still cannot bear to look at Mr. Grey but even looking at the floor, I can tell what most people would have said as a question he has simply stated. Kate, who reads most people better than I read books, pushes through the intensity of the moment.

"Just a passing illness I am sure." From years of friendship, I can tell from the tone of her voice she is holding something back.

"Which I am sure would be better served spending time in bed than with me," Mr. Grey says. Despite myself, I smile. It almost feels like a joke, yet I can still hear the serious overture to his voice.

"Ana's thoughts exactly," Kate says, with a winning smile on her lips I am sure; she is still congratulating herself on out arguing me. As if I would have ever won.

"Yet here we are," I say barely under my breath.

"Yes. Here you are." When I look up, Mr. Grey is staring directly at me. That is when it happens for the first time, and definitely not the late time, during our exchange. A delightful and foreign shiver runs from my spine to the base of skull. Our eyes lock, and I feel myself let out an inaudible gasp.

"Shall we begin?" Kate says. If she has noticed the energy between Mr. Grey and me, she is choosing to ignore it.

Unable to make the first move, I continue to stare into his eyes. He is holding my gaze steadily, almost impassively. Then, so fast I nearly miss seeing it, he flashes me a small smirk. Once it has dropped again from his lips, so have his eyes from mine. With long powerful strides, he is walking over to his large impressive desk.

My gaze is immediately mesmerized by the breathtaking view behind said impressive desk. Staring at the ground, and at Mr. Grey, before had shielded it from my view. Beyond us, only glass between this office and the outside world, is an unparalleled view of the Seattle skyline. It is a stunning view, one that makes we wonder why his desk faces away from it.

"We are very excited to have you appear in the special graduation issue of the student newspaper, Mr. Grey." Kate says as she follows behind him. Mr. Grey situates himself behind the desk. He gestures to the beautiful and surely expensive leather couch in front of him. I mentally add leather to the list of things he must be obsessed with.

"As I am excited to be conferring the degrees at the graduation ceremony this year," Mr. Grey says. Kate glides over, gracefully perching herself on the edge of the couch before him.

Pausing a moment, collecting what little composure I have and everything I have dropped, I let this new information enter into my head. I hope that at the graduation ceremony I will not be as awkward as this, because if he is presenting me my degree I am probably bound to fall on my knees again and not in the good way.

Reluctantly I make my way to sit further down on the couch beside Kate, making a useless wish that Kate had prepared me for this interview. Not that she should have; up until five minutes ago I wasn't even supposed to be in this office with them. This office that is too large for one man, no matter how intimating I find him. Scratch that, maybe he should have an office even greater in size.

"Shall we begin." Kate says. Mr. Grey simply nods in response and sits. "May we record this interview, Mr. Grey?" An actual question this time.

"Sure," he says with a small incline of his head.

In the seconds it takes me to realize I have all of Kate's belongings, and hand her the notebook and pen, Mr. Grey is already letting out a low chuckle. Perfect Steele, way to go. I fumble with the recorder. Kate, like the professional she is soon to be, is looking pointedly at me. Giving her a shy smile and a small nod, I indicate we are ready.

"You are very young to have amassed such an empire. To what," Kate begins, but Mr. Grey stops her before she can ask the question.

"To what do I owe my success?" He finishes for her. "Seriously?"

"It is the question our students most want answered, Mr. Grey". Quickly glancing at him I see a rueful smile play on his lips, yet I feel his disappointment somehow.

"Business, for me, is about people. I have always been good at people. You could say I know how they tick, what motivates them, what incentivizes them, and what inspires them." As Mr. Grey is talking I can tell almost immediately that something is not right with Kate.

Her left hand is griping the couch and her right has stopped moving on the page before her. When I manage another peek at him, I know he has realized it too. Yet, in what I assume is an effort to preserve as much of the professional nature of the interview as he can, he keeps on talking.

"I make decisions based on logic and facts, but it always comes down to having the right people. So I rely on my ability to recognize talented individuals." Mr. Grey says. Kate stalls asking the next question, her eyes shifting on the page. I clear my throat tentatively and once again brace myself as I turn my gaze to Mr. Grey.

"Maybe you are just lucky." The smile he gives me seems genuine, almost unguarded. He lets out a small sound, a mixture of amusement and derision.

"I've always found that the harder I work, the more luck I seem to have." I want to say something else, but Kate shifts in her sit beside me.

"Mr. Grey," she says but pauses. I can see the effort on her face to stay composed. Suddenly she hands me the notebook on her lap and the list of questions. "Would you please excuse me a moment?" I don't bother looking back at him; I am too concerned about Kate.

"Sure, Miss Kavanagh." She has barely waited for him to answer before she standing from the seat, I watch her move through the office and out of the room. My gaze is still on the door as it softly closes behind her. I more feel the movement in the office, rather than hear it. When I turn back, Mr. Grey is leaning on the edge of his desk directly in front of me. I watch as he slowly shifts his gray tie back into place. It is borderline erotic somehow.

"Are you colleagues on the student paper?" Mr. Grey says. I clear my throat and remove my eyes from the knot around his neck; they land instead back on the view behind him. It looks like rain is upon the horizon.

"No. I'm her roommate. I was meant to be waiting out there." I gesture with my head towards the door. The sound of him tapping his desk travels to my ears.

"Before you walked, or more accurately fell, into my office did you have any idea who I was?" Mr. Grey says. I can feel my face flush as I remember earlier. Mortified doesn't even begin to cover it. I make myself meet his gaze. No, Mr. Grey I did not. Nothing could have prepared me for you.

"Should I have?" My voice comes out strained, the question not even clear in my mind. He answers with a smirk, which is completely disarming and boyish. It does things to my body; it does things to my thoughts.

"No, I suppose not Miss Steele." He moves from his place leaning on the desk and before I know it he is sitting beside me, taking up Kate's position. "Did you want to continue with the interview for Miss Kavanagh?"

I drop my gaze to the hands in my lap, which are holding the list of questions Kate spent so long preparing. To say I didn't want to continue wouldn't be true, but the interview wasn't what I had in mind. My heart rate has increased tenfold since he joined me on the couch; I cannot work out why he has such an unnerving effect on me.

"Or, Miss Steele, did you want to tell me about yourself?" He says as he shifts his tie again, unbuttoning his jacket.

"Like to control the narrative Mr. Grey?" Apparently, having him this close to me has blocked my ability to filter my thoughts before speaking.

"Oh, I exercise control in all things Miss Steele," he says without a trace of humor in his voice.

When I look at him, he is once again staring at me. I can feel my skin flame under his gaze and without thought I feel my thighs press together. There is a sudden and minuscule upturn to his lips. As our eyes lock, I only just register the large drops of rain hitting the window beside us. The intensity grows until I don't know how much longer I can bare it.

There is soft knock on the door. Mr. Grey's eyes never leave mine. "Come in." He says. His voice is low, yet still powerful enough to carry. From the corner of my eye, I can see Blonde Number Two walking into the office.

"Miss Kavanagh is quite unwell, Mr. Grey. We have had someone assist her to her vehicle." I feel the worry seep into my expression, my desire to get to Kate finally allowing me to break the eye contact making my body squirm.

"Thank you for your time Mr. Grey." I almost whisper, saying what I know Kate would want as I begin to shove whatever I can into my messenger bag.

"The pleasure's been all mine," he says. The polite tone in place, the moment passed. As Blonde Number Two exits the room, we both stand. I go to follow her out, when he holds out his hand. Right, business. The second our hands touch, a shiver this time travels through my entire body. Mr. Grey seems to caress my hand instead of shake it. At least that is how his hand pressed into mine felt.

He moves with lithe athletic grace in front of me and opens the door wide, really too wide for just myself. I throw a questioning look back at him; a smile that would make Adonis look like a troll spreads across his face.

"Just ensuring you make safe passage through the door Miss Steele." He says, the smile unmoved from his features. I blush. Again. All fours and in a dress; what I show I must have been.

"How very considerate Mr. Grey," I say. I try to keep my tone polite but I think it sounded more sarcastic then intended, which elicits a chuckle from Mr. Grey. I am surprised when he follows me out of his office and walks with me over to the elevator, pressing the down button before I can get a chance. As the doors open, he turns to face me.

"Until we meet again," he says. It sounds like a promise, a challenge and a threat all rolled into one; it makes me shiver in that delicious kind of way again. I could get addicted to that.

I hurry into the elevator, desperate to escape; I am unsure of what has come over me. When I turn to face the front of the elevator, he is once again looking at me. With one hand on the wall leaning against the doorway, he makes searing eye contact with me for the last time during today's exchange.

"Anastasia," he all but whispers.

"Christian," I say as the doors, mercifully, close.

Author's Note:

I wrote this first chapter a few years ago now, probably around the time Fifty Shades of Grey came out. When Fifty Shades Freed came out this year, I had an urge to 'go back to the start'. Think of it as a nostalgia story, a what 'if'. It will follow pretty closely to the original novels until it takes a sharp turn in a different direction. However as I do not want to rely on any assumed knowledge from the books, I have started from the very beginning. It is and will be different, which is evident from this first chapter.

I would like to acknowledge E. L. James; hoping she does not mind us playing with her characters a little bit. Taking into consideration their humble beginnings, I do not think she would. All elements of the books remain the property of E. L. James.

~ M.P.