Fifty Shades of Him (h.s. au)

III

"Let me show you my favorite place," Harry leads, taking the steps down the stairs. My bag was left in his office, seeming as though he'll talk with me again. His tall body walks beside my own and he walks the opposite way from the kitchen.

"I rarely come here, but I enjoy the view," he acknowledges, opening the doors. A beautiful, open sunroom stands in front of me and I smile, admiring the stars above. It's completely open and the windows barely seem existent.

"It's a wonderful view," I commend, his lips curving.

"I work too much to relax in the small sense of nature. When I'm not working, I'm usually exercising my mind as I work out in my gym. Many thoughts fill my mind while I do so," he says, sitting down and gesturing for me too to have a seat.

"What do you think about?" I ponder, his hand rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt to his mid-forearms. An anchor tattoo rests upon his left wrist, taking me by slight surprise.

"I think about life mainly, and how my insights aren't enough to accumulate a story," he states, looking into my eyes.

"What did you think about last night?" I ask, shyly looking up at him. He settles his eyes on me and I peer my eyes away, regretting asking such a personal question.

"You."

The pounding of my heart triples and I keep my gaze off of him, his body standing.

"Me?" I gasp, jumbled thoughts running through my mind. The clouded thought that Harry, a powerful man of the business world, is strangely intrigue by me is highly unusual.

"There was a pondering thought that urged me to know more about your thinking. I wanted to meet with you in regards to my work and I wish to pursue this endeavor with you as my co-writer. My thoughts of you in the early hours of the morning were due to my fascination by you."

The gaze we hold falls as I look away, misunderstanding. He looks apprehensive as I run my fingers through my hair, his straight stature in intimidation.

"Why do you want me to assist you? There are more professional and greater writers and reporters than me," I say, my body standing. He meets my gaze and I look upon his eyes, seeing the small blue fleck in the left orb.

"I want your assistance because I enjoy hearing what you have to say. Other publishers I've met during my post-entrepreneur business are one-minded and their thoughts are singular. You're mind is open and I want to know more of what you are capable of," he says, leading me out of the sunroom. He pulls a chair out of the dining room table and I sit, sitting down as he pushes me in.

"But I don't work for you. I have my own job," I say, his body sitting across from me.

"And I have mine. But you have brought a different altitude into my work. You interest me more than anyone I've met and I want to hear what you have to say," he announces as he takes a seat across from me.

The woman in the kitchen places a dish in front of Harry and I and he tells me it's spaghetti with meat sauce. It's very neat compared to the spaghetti I grew up eating.

"For my work, I rarely leave my home or office. I don't associate with anyone because I find that my ideas form best to what I research. You, however, bring me to realize I'm missing key elements in my work. I never thought of emotion as a key element in seeking personality. You have a strong will in your literature," he comments, my lips smiling.

"I've never been told that I'm good at my job before. I guess I just think things differently," I say, nervously looking down at my food.

When I look up at him, his eyes are on me. There is an unsettling feeling I have in knowing he's watching me, but I wouldn't dare admit that to myself. He's too powerful to deny.