t does the trick. Paul’s mouth falls open, and he gapes at me, struck dumb. Humph – even his name renders people speechless.
“You ha一ve a date with Christian Grey,” he says finally, once he’s over the shock. Disbelief is evident in his voice.
“Yes.”
“I see.” Paul looks positively crestfallen, stunned even, and a very small part resents that he should find this a surprise. My inner goddess does too. She makes a very vulgar and unattractive gesture at him with her fingers.
After that, he ignores me, and at five I am out of the door, pronto.
Kate has lent me two dresses and two pairs of shoes for tonight and for graduation tomorrow. I wish I could feel more enthused about clothes and make an extra effort, but clothes are just not my thing. What is your thing, Anastasia? Christian’s softly spoken question haunts me. Shaking my head and endea一voring to quell my nerves, I decide on the plum-colored sheath dress for this evening. It’s demure and vaguely business-like – after all, I am negotiating a contract.
I shower, sha一ve my legs and underarms, wash my hair, and then spend a good half-hour drying it so that it falls in soft wa一ves to my breasts and down my back. I slip a comb in to keep one side off my face and apply mascara and some lip-gloss. I rarely wear make-up – it intimidates me. None of my literary heroines had to deal with make-up – maybe I’d know more about it if they had. I slip on the plum-colored stilettos that match the dress, and I’m ready by six-thirty.
“Well?” I ask Kate.
She grins.
“Boy, you scrub up well, Ana.” She nods with approval. “You look hot.”
“Hot! I’m aiming for demure and business-like.”
“That too, but most of all, hot. The dress really suits you and your coloring. The way it clings.” She smirks.
“Kate!” I scold.
“Just keeping it real, Ana. The whole package – looks good. Keep the dress. You’ll ha一ve him eating out of your hand.”
My mouth presses in a hard line. Oh, you so ha一ve that the wrong way round.
“Wish me luck.”
“You need luck for a
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