The office atmosphere at Grey Enterprises had shifted from one of charged intimacy to a heavy tension. Christian Grey had already dressed and stood silently by the expansive floor-to-ceiling window, a slight furrow in his brow.
"Christian," a womans voice purred from behind. She emerged, draped in a bath towel, her body language oozing seduction. "Was the interruption with that young girl earlier not to your liking? Shall we continue where we left off?"
She approached him, her fingers tracing the line of his shoulder, her body pressing against his back, seeking to reignite the passion they had just shared. But Christian stepped away, avoiding her touch as if it were contaminated.
"Anais," he said, his voice cold and distant, "boundaries." He couldnt shake the image of Anastasia from his mind. It had been years since he last saw her, and yet she was as irresistible to him as ever, with her wide, innocent eyes and that air of vulnerability that he found so captivating.
His eyes held a hint of amusement that was not meant for Anais, and he made sure she didnt see it. "Youve overstepped," he told her, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Anais, feeling the sting of rejection, tried to approach him again, but Christians icy glare stopped her in her tracks. "Thats enough," he said, his back turned to her, a clear message of dismissal.
Feeling humiliated, Anais quickly dressed and left the office, nearly colliding with Anastasia in her haste. Anastasia, her head down in submission, didnt recognize Anais, and Anais, in her anger, didnt bother to give the seemingly insignificant tea lady a second glance.
As Anastasia hesitated outside the office, she felt a wave of self-consciousness. She had never been one to handle confrontations well, and the thought of facing Christian again filled her with dread. With a deep breath, she raised her hand to knock, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest.
"Come in," Christians voice commanded from within, the rich timber of his voice sending a shiver down her spine.
Anastasia pushed open the door, her expression a mix of trepidation and defiance. "Im here to deliver the files," she announced, her tone far from friendly.
Christian looked up from his desk, a smirk playing on his lips as he recognized Anastasia. He leaned back in his chair, legs crossed casually, a hand tapping idly on the desk. "Anastasia, did you enjoy the show?" he asked, his voice laced with teasing.
Anastasias cheeks flushed with color, but she refused to be baited. She strode to his desk and dropped the files with a thud. "Here are your files," she said curtly, turning to leave as quickly as she had come.
But Christian was faster. He rounded the desk and caught her by the arm, his grip firm but not painful. "Dont you remember me after all these years?" he asked, his smile never wavering.
Anastasia struggled, but his strength was undeniable. As he stood close to her, the scent of his cologne filled her senses, reminding her of the intimate scene she had witnessed earlier. Her cheeks burned with a mixture of embarrassment and anger.
"Christian! Youre blocking my way!" Anastasia glared at him, her eyes flashing with frustration.
"Feisty, arent you?" Christian tsked, clearly enjoying her reaction. To anyone else, it would have been a surprise to see the usually stoic and reserved Christian Grey acting so playful and teasing, but with Anastasia, he felt a sense of familiarity and comfort.
"Christian! What do you want?" Anastasia demanded, her patience wearing thin. She felt like a toy, a plaything for his amusement, and she didnt like it one bit.
Christians eyes sparkled with mischief. "Call me sir," he challenged, knowing full well that Anastasia had always had a love-hate relationship with his authoritative side.
As expected, Anastasias reaction was immediate. She lunged at him, her small fists balled up in defiance. Christian, with his height advantage, simply pressed his hand against her forehead, halting her advance with ease.
Seeing her so full of life and spirit, memories of their childhood together flooded back to him. Anastasia, with her pigtails and rosy cheeks, had always been a source of joy for him. She had been his little playmate, and he had always been her tormentor.
As he looked at her now, her bun seemed out of place, and before he could stop himself, he reached behind her head and gave it a sharp tug, releasing her hair from its tight bondage.
"There, thats better," he said, nodding in satisfaction. Anastasia, with her delicate features and petite frame, was like a doll, and her attempts to appear mature only made her seem more endearing.
Anastasia stood there, dumbfounded. Christians thought process was a mystery to her, and she couldnt help but feel exasperated. They were like two trains on parallel tracks, never quite meeting, always moving in the same direction but never intersecting.