Milirtary release 2019
:I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror. Damn my hair-it justwon’t behave, and damn Katherine Kavanagh for being ill and subjecting me tothis ordeal. I should be studying for my final exams, which are next week, yethere I am trying to brush my hair into submission. I must not sleep with itwet. I must not sleep with it wet. Reciting this mantra several times, Iattempt, once more, to bring it under control with the brush.
Description:When literature student Anastasia Steele goes to interview young entrepreneur Christian Grey, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Ana is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Ana’s quiet beauty, wit, and independentRead More:–
Tabel of content Chapter 164Sample
I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror. Damn my hair-it justwon’t behave, and damn Katherine Kavanagh for being ill and subjecting me tothis ordeal. I should be studying for my final exams, which are next week, yethere I am trying to brush my hair into submission. I must not sleep with itwet. I must not sleep with it wet. Reciting this mantra several times, Iattempt, once more, to bring it under control with the brush. I roll my eyes inexasperation and gaze at the pale, brown-haired girl with blue eyes too big forher face staring back at me, and give up. My only option is to restrain mywayward hair in a ponytail and hope that I look semi presentable.Kate is my roommate, and she has chosen today of all days to succumb tothe flu.Therefore, she cannot attend the interview she’d arranged to do, withsome mega-industri-alist tycoon I’ve never heard of, for the student newspaper.So I have been volunteered. I have final exams to cram for, one essay tofinish, and I’m supposed to be working this afternoon, but no-today I have todrive a hundred and sixty-five miles to downtown Seattle in order to meet theenigmatic CEO of Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc. As an exceptional entrepreneurand major benefactor of our University, his time is extraordinarilyprecious-much more precious than mine-but he has granted Kate an interview. Areal coup, she tells me. Damn her extra-curricular activities.Kate is huddled on the couch in the living room.”Ana, I’m sorry. It took me nine months to get this interview. It willtake another six to reschedule, and we’ll both have graduated by then. As theeditor, I can’t blow this off. Please,” Kate begs me in her rasping, sorethroat voice. How does she do itEven ill she looks gamine and gorgeous,strawberry blonde hair in place and green eyes bright, although now red-rimmedand runny. I ignore my pang of unwelcome sympathy.”Of course I’ll go Kate. You should get back to bed. Would you like someNyquil or Tylenol?””Nyquil, please. Here are the questions and my mini-disc recorder. Justpress record here. Make notes, I’ll transcribe it all.””I know nothing about him,” I murmur, trying and failing to suppress myrising panic.”The questions will see you through. Go. It’s a long drive. I don’t wantyou to be late.””Okay, I’m going. Get back to bed. I made you some soup to heat uplater.” I stare at her fondly. Only for you, Kate, would I do this.”I will. Good luck. And thanks Ana-as usual, you’re my lifesaver.”Gathering my satchel, I smile wryly at her, then head out the door to thecar. I cannot believe I have let Kate talk me into this. But then Kate can talkanyone into anything.She’ll make an exceptional journalist. She’s articulate, strong,persuasive, argumentative, beautiful-and she’s my dearest, dearest friend.The roads are clear as I set off from Vancouver, WA toward Portland andthe I-5. It’s early, and I don’t have to be in Seattle until two thisafternoon. Fortunately, Kate’s lent me her sporty Mercedes CLK. I’m not sureWanda, my old VW Beetle, would make the journey in time. Oh, the Merc is a fundrive, and the miles slip away as I floor the pedal to the metal.My destination is the headquarters of Mr. Grey’s global enterprise. It’sa huge twenty-story office building, all curved glass and steel, an architect’sutilitarian fantasy, with Grey House written discreetly in steel over the glassfront doors. It’s a quarter to two when I arrive, greatly relieved that I’m notlate as I walk into the enormous-and frankly intimidating-glass, steel, andwhite sandstone lobby.Behind the solid sandstone desk, a very attractive, groomed, blonde youngwoman smiles pleasantly at me. She’s wearing the sharpest charcoal suit jacketand white shirt I have ever seen. She looks immaculate.”I’m here to see Mr. Grey. Anastasia Steele for Katherine Kavanagh.””Excuse me one moment, Miss Steele.” She arches her eyebrow slightly as Istand self-consciously before her. I am beginning to wish I’d borrowed one ofKate’s formal blazers rather than wear my navy blue jacket. I have made aneffort and worn my one and only skirt, my sensible brown knee-length boots anda blue sweater. For me, this is smart. I tuck one of the escaped tendrils of myhair behind my ear as I pretend she doesn’t intimidate me.”Miss Kavanagh is expected. Please sign in here, Miss Steele. You’ll wantthe last elevator on the right, press for the twentieth floor.” She smileskindly at me, amused no doubt, as I sign in.She hands me a security pass that has VISITOR very firmly stamped on thefront. I can’t help my smirk. Surely it’s obvious that I’m just visiting. Idon’t fit in here at all.Nothing changes, I inwardly sigh. Thanking her, I walk over to the bankof elevators past the two security men who are both far more smartly dressedthan I am in their well-cut black suits.The elevator whisks me with terminal velocity to the twentieth floor. Thedoors slide open, and I’m in another large lobby-again all glass, steel, andwhite sandstone. I’m confronted by another desk of sandstone and another youngblonde woman dressed impeccably in black and white who rises to greet me.”Miss Steele, could you wait here, please?” She points to a seated areaof white leather chairs.Behind the leather chairs is a spacious glass-walled meeting room with anequally spacious dark wood table and at least twenty matching chairs around it.Beyond that, there is a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the Seattleskyline that looks out through the city toward the Sound. It’s a stunningvista, and I’m momentarily paralyzed by the view. Wow.I sit down, fish the questions from my satchel, and go through them,inwardly curs-ing Kate for not providing me with a brief biography. I knownothing about this man I’m about to interview. He could be ninety or he couldbe thirty. The uncertainty is galling, and my nerves resurface, making mefidget. I’ve never been comfortable with one-on-one interviews, preferring theanonymity of a group discussion where I can sit inconspicuously at the back ofthe room. To be honest, I prefer my own company, reading a classic Britishnovel, curled up in a chair in the campus library. Not sitting twitchingnervously in a colos-sal glass and stone edifice.