ve arm draped over my shoulder. I shuffle from foot to foot, embarrassed. It’s good to see Paul, but he’s always been over-familiar.
When I glance up at Christian Grey, he’s watching us like a hawk, his gray eyes hooded and speculative, his mouth a hard impassive line. He’s changed from the weirdly attentive customer to someone else – someone cold and distant.
“Paul, I’m with a customer. Someone you should meet,” I say, trying to defuse the antagonism I see in Grey’s eyes. I drag Paul over to meet him, and they weigh each other up. The atmosphere is suddenly arctic.
“Er, Paul, this is Christian Grey. Mr. Grey, this is Paul Clayton. His brother owns the place.” And for some irrational reason, I feel I ha一ve to explain a bit more.
“I’ve known Paul ever since I’ve worked here, though we don’t see each other that often. He’s back from Princeton where he’s studying business administration.” I’m babbling… Stop, now!
“Mr. Clayton.” Christian holds his hand out, his look unreadable.
“Mr. Grey,” Paul returns his handshake. “Wait up – not the Christian Grey? Of Grey Enterprises Holdings?” Paul goes from surly to awestruck in less than a nanosecond. Grey gives him a polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Wow – is there anything I can get you?”
“Anastasia has it covered, Mr. Clayton. She’s been very attentive.” His expression is impassive, but his words… it’s like he’s saying something else entirely. It’s baffling.
“Cool,” Paul responds. “Catch you later, Ana.”
“Sure, Paul.” I watch him disappear toward the stock room. “Anything else, Mr. Grey?”
“Just these items.” His tone is clipped and cool. Damn… ha一ve I offended him? Taking a deep breath, I turn and head for the till. What is his problem?
I ring up the rope, coveralls, masking tape, and cable ties at the till.
“That will be forty-three dollars, please.” I glance up at Grey, and I wish I hadn’t. He’s watching me closely, his gray eyes intense and smoky. It’s unnerving.
“Would you like a bag?” I ask as I take his credit
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