Shit! I read it again. Fuck. It’s a “no.” I stare at the screen in disbelief. That’s it? No discussion? Nothing. Just “It was nice knowing you”? What. The. Fuck. I sit back in my chair, dumbfounded. Nice? Nice. NICE. She thought it was more than nice when her head was thrown back as she came. Don’t be so hasty, Grey. Maybe it’s a joke? Some joke! I pull my laptop toward me to write a reply.
From: Christian Grey Subject: NICE? Date: May 23 2011 To: Anastasia Steele
But as I stare at the screen, my fingers hovering over the keys, I can’t think of what to say. How could she dismiss me so easily? Her first fuck. Get it together, Grey. What are your options? Maybe I should pay her a visit, just to make sure it’s a “no.” Maybe I can persuade her otherwise. I certainly don’t know what to say to this e-mail. Perhaps she’s looked at some particularly hardcore sites. Why didn’t I give her a few books? I don’t believe this. She needs to look me in the eye and say no. Yep. I rub my chin as I formulate a plan, and moments later I’m in my closet, retrieving my tie. That tie. This deal isn’t dead yet. From my messenger bag I take some condoms and slide them into the back pocket of my pants, then grab my jacket and a bottle of white wine from the minibar. Damn, it’s a chardonnay—but it will have to do. Snatching my room key, I close the door and head toward the