Fifty Shades: Submission and Strength

Chapter 6

Christian wore a broad — if sleep-deprived — smile as he greeted Ana in the kitchen. "How are you feeling?" he asked, wasting no time as he raced over to her, giving her a tentative kiss on the lips. When she reciprocated, he instantly deepened it, pulling her into a tight embrace. Outside, storm clouds had begun to gather. Inside, Ana felt warm and at peace.

"Perfectly fine Sir," she moaned, a bit out of breath.

"I mean how is your..." he hedged.

She quirked her brow. "My bum?"

"Yes that's the one," he grinned, tracing delicate circles along her backside with his fingertips. "And a nice one it is at that."

"Like brand spanking new," she quipped. He didn't seem convinced.

"I swear. I'll survive," she laughed off his concern, wriggling out of his hold to rifle through his cabinets for a pan.

"What can I make you this morning?" she asked brightly.

"I thought I would order in." Because I want to make amends for yesterday. And because I can't cook for shit. "So what would you like Miss Steele?"

"That's extremely considerate Sir, but I'm not really a morning person. My stomach won't wake up for at least another two hours," she replied kindly. "But please let me whip you up something." Even though I can't cook for shit, you seem to be amused by my attempts.

His mood plummeted, along with the weather outside.

"You need to eat Anastasia," he said curtly.

Her posture went rigid. "I'm well aware Sir. But you need to respect my boundaries when it comes to food. I specifically marked in the contract..."

"I know what was in the contract Miss Steele," he interrupted her, seething. Fuck the damn contract. "I deal with contracts every day, remember?"

She nodded, unmoved by his jab, so he stepped up his provocation.

"I'll just take some coffee and croissant. Do you think you can manage that?"

Again, a blank nod. Her apathy was driving him to distraction — and spite.

"Afterward, while I finish the paper, kneel on the floor in the great room until further notice."

Ana deferentially set about her work. So much for his sunny disposition. At least he didn't ask for eggs. Last time I got one stuck to the pan while the other landed on the floor. Slippery little suckers.

She wordlessly set his coffee and croissant down in front of him and took her position on the hard marble floor. It was chilly and she was only dressed in a camisole and shorts, so she tried to distract herself by imagining a lush tropical beach, with a certain billionaire getting his ass pounded by a big wave.

Meanwhile, Christian tried to concentrate on the business section but it was fruitless. Compromise was not his style, but neither was cruelty.

I've got to come up with a new strategy. This buttering her up and alternatively biting her head off isn't getting me anywhere but the Dom doghouse. Think Grey think. You're a businessman. Size up your adversary and try a different approach. Find something that appeals to her — besides sex. She doesn't talk about her past. She doesn't talk about her personal life. What the fuck is left? Of course, work! Or in her case school. She's passionate about world affairs. Play off that moron.

"Miss Steele," Christian said coldly, pretending to read another news article. "One of my investors owns a shoe factory in Lebanon and is preparing to pull out of the country because of the war in neighboring Syria. Since you are an international law expert," he said derisively, "I figured you could offer your expert opinion on the matter."