grey enterprises holdings

From: Christian Grey
Subject: My Life’s Mission…
Date: September 5, 2011 09:25
To: Anastasia Grey

Is to spoil you, Mrs. Grey.
And keep you safe because I love you.

Christian Grey
Smitten CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

—  Fifty Shades Freed-Book
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Christian Grey Presidente de Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc. — #fiftyshades #christiangrey #anastasiasteele #jamiedornan #dakotajohnson #fiftyshadesofgrey #cincuentasombrasdegrey #cincuentasombras #cincuentasombrasmasoscuras #fiftyshadesdarker #cincuentasombrasliberadas #fiftyshadesfreed #latersbaby #teamfifty #GREY #fiftyshadestrilogy #fiftyshadesmovie #Mrgrey #Mrgreywillseeyounow #damieosreal #shadesforever #jamieonline

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testingforcake23  asked:

I know Christian has committed sexual crimes and maybe murder, but can you list what in the business sphere he has done illegally or unethically? My dads a lawyer who deals with this shit, so I'm curious.

For one thing, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc. is, by its name, incorporated. That means that it needs a board of directors. Christian says loudly in both Fifty Shades of Grey and the un-Google-able sequel, Grey that he has no board telling him what to do. This statement could have been qualified in Grey; he could have thought that he had a one-person board and that he was it, which is possible. But his reaction in Grey is the same–that he doesn’t have a board because he doesn’t want one. That’s not how incorporation WORKS.

Second, he violates the Equal Employment Opportunity Act. All but one of the employees at Grey House, his headquarters, that we see is a white-skinned blonde woman, and that one exception is a white-skinned redheaded woman. Ana speculates that he hires women who look a certain way; in Grey, we’re given confirmation that yes, that’s exactly what he does. From where I’m sitting, he should be half-buried under anti-discrimination class action suits.

He employs a private hacker, Barney, who breaks into computer systems to illegally obtain information–like Social Security numbers, amounts of money in bank accounts, images in closed-circuit city TV cameras monitoring roads, etc. Grey also states that he uses Barney to vet all potential hires and any woman with whom Grey might get into a BDSM relationship.  This should raise all sorts of questions about identity theft and violations of privacy. It doesn’t.

He ordered another employee (Jason Taylor, his chief bodyguard) to beat Jack Hyde  (the man who attempted to rape Ana shortly before this) within an inch of his life when a) Jack was unarmed,  b) he was not threatening  or endangering Grey, Ana or Taylor, and c) Ana was in a tank of a limo that resembles, in many ways, one of the cars James Bond drives. I’m pretty sure that you’re not allowed to order random assaults on despicable people who are not a clear and present danger to you or those around you…even when you have skilled bodyguards.

The chief accountant of the company (Gwen) and the the Vice-President of the company (Ros Bailey, who seems to do all the work, thanks to Grey’s ineptitude) are in a romantic and sexual relationship. To me, this indicates conflicts of interest.

The company was founded with money that Elena Lincoln stole from her husband and gave to Christian Grey. Furthermore, Grey either knew that the money was stolen when he received it or learned it shortly afterwards. I’m pretty sure that profiting from a crime is also illegal.

Grey routinely uses company resources for personal gain. He seems to feel that since it’s his company, everything belonging to the company belongs to him individually. 

At the end of Fifty Shades Freed, when we find out that Elena’s ex-husband Linc Lincoln was the Big Bad all along, Christian says this in a phone conversation:

“Ros, how much stock do we own in Lincoln Timber?”

:::

“So, consolidate the shares into GEH, then fire the board … except the CEO … I don’t give a fuck … I hear you, just do it … thank you … keep me informed.”

You can’t just say “You’re fired” as if the words were magic—and that’s what Christian is doing. He doesn’t OWN Lincoln Timber, not the slightest part. Elena Lincoln’s ex does. And the ex doesn’t like Christian at all. I can’t think that he’d allow Christian to buy a controlling number of shares—and I doubt if Christian did so, especially since he mentioned earlier in Freed that he didn’t even know if he’d invested any money in lumber or timber.   

Boards of directors can be changed, but not by one person hiring or firing everyone.

1) Boards can be elected at the annual shareholders’ meeting at the end of the year.

2) A shareholder can call a special meeting when they want to change directors before their term ends. However, this involves contacting all other shareholders and giving them notice of the place, time, date and purpose of the meeting.

3) Shareholders can vote to remove directors from a board, with or without cause, unless the corporation has a staggered board. Once that is done, they can vote to replace the directors they voted out.

However, a) a meeting is required, b) a quorum of shares must be present at that meeting and c) a majority of all shares entitled to vote must participate in removing and replacing the directors. Furthermore, many by-laws translate this as “a majority of all SHAREHOLDERS” rather than “a majority of all SHARES.” Which means everyone might get a vote over the dismissal of Lincoln Timber’s board, even very minor investors.

4) With a staggered board, only a portion of the board is elected every year—half to one third, generally. Replacement and removal of members of a staggered board are similar to what’s done in the third case…but members of a staggered board can only be removed with cause. And the by-laws spell out what the causes are. Posting bail for someone that one shareholder doesn’t like is not a valid cause.

Removal and replacement of boards always seem to come down to other shareholders, meetings and elections. And even if Christian could just wave a dictatorial hand and say, “Begone!”, Linc could put the directors that had been removed, as well as anyone else on his side, up for election again, campaign for them, recommend that other shareholders vote for them, etc. This has been done in other companies; it’s fairly routine.

As plans for vengeance go, this one is unworkable, illegal, and pretty much useless.

Christian also plans to do the following:

“But he’s seriously crossed the line with Hyde. Linc’s made this personal by going after my family. I’m going to crush him, break up his company right under his nose, and sell the pieces to the highest bidder. I am going to bankrupt him.”

Bankruptcy law has ways of fighting hostile takeovers, which is what Hellspawn is proposing. Not only that, but a Chapter 11 bankruptcy—the most typical way for businesses to go bankrupt in America—wouldn’t leave Linc stony broke, which is what Fuckface wants. “A [C]hapter 11 debtor usually proposes a plan of reorganization to keep its business alive and pay creditors over time.

Chapter 11 bankruptcy is REALLY common with big businesses. This not only wouldn’t leave Linc broke, he might even profit from the deal.

If Hellspawn wants to force Linc to file a Chapter 7 bankruptcy, which involves liquidation of non-exempt assets and distributing the proceeds to debtors…well, first of all, Chapter 7 is generally used by individuals, not businesses or corporations (which usually file Chapter 11) or sole proprietorships and partnerships (which usually file Chapter 13). Note the word “generally.” It’s not impossible for a business to use Chapter 7, but Chapter 7 would involve selling a great many assets, including the business itself. So it’s not common.

Second, Linc himself would have to cooperate with Hellspawn’s “plan.” He’d have to apply for credit counseling first, because you can’t petition for Chapter 7 liquidation without that. Then he’d have to file a Chapter 7 bankruptcy petition with the courts, agreeing to sell almost everything he has because that’s the only way to pay off his debts. Linc is a wealthy man. What’s likelier—that he’ll voluntarily strip himself of almost everything he owns or that he’ll fight a hostile takeover? 

And that’s just the stuff I can think of right off the top of my head. I’m sure there’s more.

Does that help?  

From: Christian Grey
Subject: One more request
Date: June 10, 2011 00:15
To: Anastasia Steele

Dream of Me.
x

Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprise Holdings. Inc.” 

Laters, baby.

—Profe, ¿qué significa “I don’t make love”?
—Yo no hago el amor.
—Yo follo duro.
—¡FUERA DE MI CLASE!
—Laters, baby.

Subject: Finally!
Date: May 31 2011 07:30
To: Anastasia Steele

Anastasia I am annoyed that as soon as you put some distance between us, you communicate openly and honestly with me. Why can’t you do that when we’re together? Yes, I’m rich. Get used to it. Why shouldn’t I spend money on you? We’ve told your father I’m your boyfriend, for heaven’s sake. Isn’t that what boyfriends do? As your Dom, I would expect you to accept whatever I spend on you with no argument. Incidentally, tell your mother too. I don’t know how to answer your comment about feeling like a whore. I know that’s not what you’ve written, but it’s what you imply. I don’t know what I can say or do to eradicate these feelings. I’d like you to have the best of everything.  I work exceptionally hard, so I can spend my money as I see fit. I could buy you your heart’s desire, Anastasia, and I want to. Call it redistribution of wealth if you will. Or simply know that I would not, could not ever think of you in the way you described, and I’m angry that’s how you perceive yourself. For such a bright, witty, beautiful young woman you have some real self-esteem issues, and I have a half a mind to make an appointment for you with Dr. Flynn. I apologize for frightening you. I find the thought of instilling fear in you abhorrent. Do you really think I’d let you travel in the hold? I offered you my private jet for heaven’s sake. Yes it was a joke, a poor one obviously. However, the fact is – the thought of you bound and gagged turns me on (this is not a joke – it’s true). I can lose the crate – crates do nothing for me. I know you have issues with gagging, we’ve talked about that and if/ when I do gag you, we’ll discuss it. What I think you fail to realize is that in Dom/sub relationships it is the sub that has all the power. That’s you. I’ll repeat this – you are the one with all the power. Not I. In the boathouse you said no. I can’t touch you if you say no – that’s why we have an agreement – what you will and won’t do. If we try things and you don’t like them, we can revise the agreement. It’s up to you – not me. And if you don’t want to be bound and gagged in a crate, then it won’t happen. I want to share my lifestyle with you. I have never wanted anything so much. Frankly I’m in awe of you, that one so innocent would be willing to try. That says more to me than you could ever know. You fail to see I am caught in your spell, too, even though I have told you this countless times. I don’t want to lose you. I am nervous that you’ve flown three thousand miles to get away from me for a few days, because you can’t think clearly around me. It’s the same for me Anastasia. My reason vanishes when we’re together – that’s the depth of my feeling for you.

I understand your trepidation. I did try to stay away from you; I knew you were inexperienced, though I would never have pursued you if I had known exactly how innocent you were – and yet you still manage to disarm me completely in a way that nobody has before. Your email for example: I have read and re-read it countless times trying to understand your point of view. Three months is an arbitrary amount of time. We could make it six months, a year? How long do you want it to be? What would make you comfortable? Tell me. I understand that this is a huge leap of faith for you. I have to earn your trust, but by the same token, you have to communicate with me when I am failing to do this. You seem so strong and self-contained, and then I read what you’ve written here, and I see another side to you. We have to guide each other Anastasia, and I can only take my cues from you. You have to be honest with me, and we have to both find a way to make this arrangement work. You worry about not being submissive. Well maybe that’s true. Having said that, the only
time you do assume the correct demeanor for a sub is in the playroom. It seems that’s the one place where you let me exercise proper control over you, and the only place you do as you’re told. Exemplary is the term that comes to mind. And I’d never beat you black and blue. I aim for pink. Outside the playroom, I like that you challenge me. It’s a very novel and refreshing experience, and I wouldn’t want to change that. So yes, tell me what you want in terms of more. I will endeavor to keep an open mind, and I shall try and give you the space you need and stay away from you while you are in Georgia. I look forward to your next email. In the meantime, enjoy yourself. But not too much.

Christian Grey CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

 Because I'm fifty shades of fucked up

Ah, hello dear. The name is Christian Trevelyan Grey. I recently moved to Seoul due to business stuff that are too complicated to explain. You must be curious about me, are you? Well, I’m twenty-seven years old. I briefly attended Harvard, studying Politics and Economics. After two years,I dropped out to start my own business. A friend gave me the $100,000 I needed to start. That business eventually grew into Grey Enterprises Holdings and now I am spreading it overseas.  South Korea is small but sure pays a lot. Now I am here to mainly settle down and relax, meet new people. But beware- we all have our dark secrets. Mine is - I am BDSM addict you could say. There are dark thoughts at the back of my mind and you might become part of them.  As for now, I would like you to help me meet more people. We both know how. 
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Writing Exercise: Fixing Grey

What follows is a challenge I gave myself to re-write the first chapter of E.L. James’ murder thriller “Grey: 50 Shades of Grey From Christian’s Perspective”

The goal was to make the text less bad, less creepy, and less boring without changing the overall flow and structure. Specifically I refraind from making changes to the spoken dialogue unless absolutely necessary.

Additionally there’s a poetic justice to re-writing something with roots so firmly planted in fan fiction when the author vocally despises fan fiction and tries her damndest to root it out.

I hope you enjoy Chapter 1 of “Fixing Grey”


A commotion at the door brings me to my feet as a whirl of long chestnut hair, pale limbs, and brown boots tumbles headfirst into my office. Instinctively I laugh at the slapstick, though instantly regret it, embarrassed for us both. I hustle from my desk to help her up, but clear, embarrassed eyes meet mine and halt me in my tracks.

They are the most extraordinary color, powder blue, and guileless, and for one moment, I think she can see right through me and I’m left…exposed.

She has a small, sweet face that is blushing now, a no doubt stressful day made all the worse.

“Ms. Kavanagh. I’m Christian Grey. Are you all right? Would you like to sit?”

Her blush deepens as she collects herself and her things from the floor. She’s quite attractive—slight, pale, with a mane of dark hair barely contained by a hair tie.

I extend my hand as she stutters the beginning of a mortified apology and places her hand in mine. Her skin is cool and soft, but her handshake surprisingly firm.

“Miss Kavanagh is indisposed, so she sent me. I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Grey.” Her voice is quiet with a hesitant musicality, and she blinks erratically, flustered from the spectacle. Unable to keep the amusement from my voice I ask who she is.

“Anastasia Steele. I’m studying English literature with Kate, um… Katherine…um…Miss Kavanagh, at WSU Vancouver.”

Truly she looks all the part of the bashful, bookish type, her slight frame hidden beneath a shapeless, large-knit sweater, an A-line brown skirt, and utilitarian boots. She looks nervously around my office— everywhere but at me.

How can this young woman be a journalist? She doesn’t seem to have an assertive bone in her body. She’s flustered, meek, submissive, none of the bravado and cockiness typical of fresh young journalists, self-assuredly polishing shelf space for that first Pulitzer. I begin to ask her to sit, then notice her discerning gaze appraising my office paintings. Before I even register I’ve started, I find I’m explaining them. “A local artist. Trouton.”

“They’re lovely. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary,” she says dreamily, lost in the exquisite, fine artistry of Trouton’s work. Her profile is delicate—an upturned nose, soft, full lips—and in her words she has captured my sentiments exactly.

Raising the ordinary to extraordinary.

It’s a keen observation. Ms. Steele is bright.

I agree and watch, fascinated, as that flush creeps slowly over her skin once more. As I sit down opposite her, she fishes some crumpled sheets of paper and a digital recorder out of her large bag. She’s all thumbs, dropping the thing twice on the Bauhaus coffee table. It’s so obvious she’s never done this before it’s amusing. On perhaps any other day I would find such amateur behavior grating, but now I hide my smile beneath my index finger and resist the urge to set the recorder up for her myself.

When it’s finally ready, she peeks up at me through her bangs and bites down on her full bottom lip. There’s a spark as our eyes meet, my smile grows, despite my desire to maintain professional decorum.

“S-Sorry, I’m not used to this.” She stutters, breaking the gaze.

“Take all the time you need, Ms. Steele.”

“Do you mind if I record your answers?” she asks, her face candid and expectant.

I chuckle. “After you’ve taken so much trouble to set up the recorder, you ask me now?”

She blinks, her eyes large and lost for a moment, she begins to stammer an apology, though her mouth curls with a smile of her own at the tease.

“No, I don’t mind.”

“Did Kate, I mean, Miss Kavanagh, explain what the interview was for?”

“Yes, for the graduation issue of the student newspaper, as I’ll be giving the commencement address at this year’s graduation ceremony.”

Ms. Steele blinks once more, as if this is news to her—and she looks disapproving. Hasn’t she done any background work for this interview? Ms. Kavanagh seems to have thrown her friend to the wolves.

“Good. I have some questions, Mr. Grey.” She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

“I thought you might,” I say, with a chuckle, teasing again. Internally I chastise myself. It’s unprofessional to flirt with an interviewer, amateur or not, but the entire meeting, from her stumbling entrance onward, has left me on the wrong foot. There’s an absurdity to it all, and it’s difficult to take it seriously.

As though sharing my thoughts she pulls herself upright and squares her small shoulders. She means business. Leaning forward, she presses the start button on the recorder and frowns as she glances down at her crumpled notes.

“You’re very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?”

A dull, boiler-plate question. I trot out my usual response about having exceptional people working for me. People I trust, insofar as I trust anyone, and pay well—blah, blah, blah…But Miss Steele, the simple fact is, I’m brilliant at what I do. For me it’s like falling off a log. Buying ailing, mismanaged companies and fixing them, keeping some or, if they’re really broken, stripping their assets and selling them off to the highest bidder. It’s simply a question of knowing the difference between the two, and invariably it comes down to the people in charge. To succeed in business you need good people, and I can judge a person, better than most.

“Maybe you’re just lucky,” she says quietly.

Lucky? If only she knew just how much in this universe is ordained by little more than pure luck. But that’s not the public face. Luck is terrifying, so we must pretend to be masters. I roll out the old standards, hard work, drive, ambition, vision, and the American Dream. Precision, discipline, and an unwillingness to settle for second.

I quote the words of Andrew Carnegie, “The growth and development of people is the highest calling of leadership.”

“You sound like a control freak,” she says. Is she teasing me now?

“Oh, I exercise control in all things, Miss Steele.”

That attractive blush steals across her face, and she bites her lip again. I ramble on.

“Besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself, in your secret reveries, that you were born to control things.”

“Do you feel that you have immense power?” she asks in a soft, soothing voice, but she arches a delicate brow with a look that conveys her censure. She is definitely teasing me now.

“I employ over forty thousand people. That gives me a certain sense of responsibility—power, if you will. If I were to decide I was no longer interested in the telecommunications business and sell, twenty thousand people would struggle to make their mortgage payments after a month or so.”

Her mouth pops open at my response.

“Don’t you have a board to answer to?”

“I own my company. I don’t have to answer to a board.” It’s a lie. Well, a partial truth. Grey Enterprises Holdings has no board, but Grey Enterprises Indonesia, Grey Enterprises Development, Arc-tel Communications, each of a dozen smaller arms, each an isolated and insulated corporation, they have boards, and I sit on each one. But image is everything, and few images are quite as potent as that of the young billionaire ruling like Caesar.

“And do you have any interests outside your work?” she continues.

“I have varied interests, Miss Steele. Very varied.”

“But if you work so hard, what do you do to chill out?”

“Chill out?” I laugh. The phrase is comically unprofessional, but she looks at me again with those ingenuous big eyes, and I find myself easing into it. What do I do to chill out? Sailing, flying, I rattle off the typical hobbies of the wealthy, though it’s impersonal and I’m left feeling like I’ve avoided answering the question that was asked.

She rolls through the questions given to her by Ms. Kavanagh, disappointingly rote questions about business and philanthropy, my reputation as a private man, and much of the earlier playfulness drains from the conversation. I find myself wishing she’d break from script again, wishing that we could converse rather than interview. I wonder what her own answers would be. What does Ms. Steele do to chill out?

“Do you have a philosophy? If so, what is it?”

“I don’t have a philosophy as such. Maybe a guiding principle—Carnegie’s: ‘A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled.’ I’m very singular, driven. I like control—of myself and those around me.”

“So you want to possess things?”

I pause. An interesting question with a curious framing. Despite the almost half hour of rote questions I’m disarmed. It’s easy to be in her presence, and I want to be honest with her. Looking her in the eyes, those wonderful pale blue eyes, I nod, “I want… to deserve to possess them, but yes, bottom line, I do.”

My answer seems to have evoked some curiosity, her head has cocked to the side, and she lets my words hang for a moment. A smile on her lips, she opens her mouth and inhales as though she were preparing to follow up. To my disappointment she seems to change her mind and her eyes return to her script.

“Are you gay, Mr. Grey?”

What the hell!?

I cannot believe she’s said that out loud! She appears to be equally mortified by the words coming out of her own mouth, but it’s too late to put them back in.

The mood whiplash hangs like a ringing in the ears after a bombshell, as I debate answering. I could, and perhaps should, end this right there. The question is not only invasive, it’s insultin.

Slowly I answer, “No, Anastasia, I’m not.” I furrow my eyebrow, as I try to suss out where, exactly, such an inappropriate question came from.

“I apologize. It’s, um…written here.” She’s in a borderline panic.

Are these not her questions? I ask her, and she pales, like an animal caught in the headlights. My chest flushes with sympathy; what a miserable day this must be.

“Er…no. Kate—Miss Kavanagh— she compiled the questions.”

“Are you colleagues on the student paper?”

“No. She’s my roommate.”

No wonder she’s all over the place, Ms. Kavanagh didn’t just throw her to the wolves, she coated her in sauce before hand.

I scratch my chin. Despite the offence there’s something endearing, something genuine, in her reaction.

“Did you volunteer to do this interview?” I ask,

“I was drafted. She’s not well.” Her voice is soft.

“That explains a great deal.”

There’s a knock at the door, and Andrea appears.

“Mr. Grey, forgive me for interrupting, but your next meeting is in two minutes.”

“We’re not finished here, Andrea. Please tell them to start without me.”

Andrea gapes at me, looking confused. I nod at her, sure of myself. I trust things won’t crumble if I’m absent for one status update. I hire good people

“Very well, Mr. Grey,” she says, turning and leaving.

The room is still heavy as the glass door shuts. While it was open the distant sounds of the building, the clatter of people, expanded through the room. As it closes we are plunged into a silence that we were both tensely aware of. The faux pas has changed the air of the room. It’s tense, ashamed, yet… honest? Intimate?

I’m the first to break that silence, “Where were we, Miss Steele?”

“Please, don’t let me keep you from anything.”

“I want to know about you. I think that’s only fair.” As I lean back and press my fingers to my lips, her eyes flick to my mouth and she swallows.

“There’s not much to know,” she says, her blush returning. I’m intimidating her. I exhale, leaning into the chair, hoping to set her at ease.

“What are your plans after you graduate?”

“I haven’t made any plans, Mr. Grey. I just need to get through my final exams.”

“We run an excellent internship program here.”

She looks surprised, and her teeth sink into her lip again with an endearing predictability.

“Oh. I’ll bear that in mind,” she replies. “Though I’m not sure I’d fit in here.”

“Why do you say that?” I ask.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“Not to me.” I’m confounded by her response. She’s flustered again as she reaches for the recorder.

Shit, she’s going. Mentally I run through my schedule for that afternoon—there is nothing that won’t keep.

“Would you like me to show you around?” I ask, eager to keep her here, eager to smooth things over. I don’t want her to go, not with this tension hanging over us.

“I’m sure you’re far too busy, Mr. Grey, and I do have a long drive.”

“You’re driving back to Vancouver?” I glance out the window. It’s one hell of a drive, and it’s raining. “Well, you’d better drive carefully.” My voice is sterner than I intend. She fumbles with the recorder. She wants out of my office, but I don’t want her to go.

“Did you get everything you need?”

I ask in a transparent effort to prolong her stay.

“Yes, sir,” the words are quiet, her eyes cast down. “Thank you for the interview, Mr. Grey.” She says, peeking up again through her bangs, looking me in the eye. There’s a tension in the moment, sudden warmth rushing through my chest.

I realize I’m not breathing.

With a clumsy inhale I respond “The pleasure’s been all mine.” It’s the truth. Awkwardness, and boredom included, I haven’t been this engaged by anyone for a while. She stands and I extend my hand, eager to touch her.

“Until we meet again, Miss Steele.”

My voice is low as she places her hand in mine. I barely know her, but I don’t want to let go. I swallow.

“Mr. Grey.” She nods and withdraws her hand.

I can’t let her go like this. It’s obvious she’s desperate to leave. Inspiration hits me as I open my office door.

“Just ensuring you make it through the door,” I quip.

“That’s very considerate, Mr. Grey,” she says, the tension relaxing at last.

I smile behind her as she exits, and follow her out. Both Andrea and Olivia look up as we walk into the foyer.

“Did you have a coat?” I ask.

“A jacket.”

I motion to Olivia and she immediately leaps up to retrieve a navy jacket, passing it to me with her usual precision.

Hmm. The jacket is worn and inexpensive. Ms. Anastasia Steele should be better dressed. I hold it up for her, and as I pull it over her slim shoulders, I touch the skin at the base of her neck. She stills at the contact.

Strolling over to the elevator, I press the call button while she stands fidgeting beside me.

The doors open and she scurries in, then turns to face me. She’s more than attractive. I would go as far as to say she’s beautiful.

“Anastasia,” I say, in good-bye.

“Christian,” she answers, her voice soft. And the elevator doors close, leaving my name hanging in the air between us, sounding odd and unfamiliar, but sexy as hell.

I need to know more about this girl.

“Andrea,” I call as I return to my office. “Get me Welch on the line, please.”

As I sit at my desk and wait for the call, I look at the paintings on the wall of my office, and Ms. Steele’s words drift back to me. “Raising the ordinary to extraordinary.”

My phone buzzes. “I have Mr. Welch on the line for you.”

“Put him through.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Welch, I need you to find me a phone number.”

From: Christian Grey

Matter: Your Ass

Date: May 31, 2011 4:10 pm

To: Anastasia Steele

Dear Ms. Steele,

the title of this e-mail is distracting me. Needless to say, your ass is safe -for now.  

Enjoy dinner, and I miss you, too, especially of his ass and his wisecracks.  

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

Fifty Shades of Grey, E. L. James.

5

“Fifty Shades of Grey” movie + book quote (4/?): Ana’s destination - Grey Enterprises Holding Inc

“My destination is the headquarters of Mr. Grey’s global enterprise. It’s a huge twenty-story office building, all curved glass and steel, an architect’s utilitarian fantasy, with Grey House written discreetly in steel over the glass front doors.”

From: Christian Grey
Subject: My Life’s Mission…
Date: September 5, 2011 09:25
To: Anastasia Grey

Is to spoil you, Mrs. Grey.
And keep you safe because I love you.


Christian Grey
Smitten CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

—  Fifty Shades Freed