You probably would have got a lot more out of him.”
“I doubt that, Ana. Come on – he practically offered you a job. Given that I foisted this on you at the last minute, you did very well.” She glances up at me speculatively. I make a hasty retreat into the kitchen.
“So what did you really think of him?” Damn, she’s inquisitive. Why can’t she just let this go? Think of something – quick.
“He’s very driven, controlling, arrogant – scary really, but very charismatic. I can un- derstand the fascination,” I add truthfully, as I peer round the door at her hoping this will shut her up once and for all.
“You, fascinated by a man? That’s a first,” she snorts.
I start gathering the makings of a sandwich so she can’t see my face.
“Why did you want to know if he was gay? Incidentally, that was the most embarrass-
ing question. I was mortified, and he was pissed to be asked too.” I scowl at the memory. “Whenever he’s in the society pages, he never has a date.”
“It was embarrassing. The whole thing was embarrassing. I’m glad I’ll never have to
lay eyes on him again.”
“Oh, Ana, it can’t have been that bad. I think he sounds quite taken with you.” Taken with me? Now Kate’s being ridiculous.
“Would you like a sandwich?”
“Please.”
We talk no more of Christian Grey that evening, much to my relief. Once we’ve eaten, I’m able to sit at the dining table with Kate and, while she works on her article, I work on my essay on Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Damn, but that woman was in the wrong place at the wrong time in the wrong century. By the time I finish, it’s midnight, and Kate has long since gone to bed. I make my way to my room, exhausted, but pleased that I’ve accom- plished so much for a Monday.
I curl up in my white iron bed, wrapping my mother’s quilt around me, close my eyes, and I’m instantly asleep. That night I dream of dark places, bleak white cold floors, and gray eyes.
For the rest of the week, I throw myself into my studies and my job at Clayton’s. Kate is busy too, compiling her last edition of her student magazine before she has to relinquish it to the new editor while also cramming for her finals. By Wednesday, she’s much better, and I no longer have to endure the sight of her pink-flannel-with-too-many-rab