Пятьдесят оттенков серого
Chapter 7
Howdidsheknow?He’sdangeroustomyhealth,becauseIknowI’mgoingtosayyes.Andpartofmedoesn’twantto.Partofmewantstorunscreamingfromthisroomandallitrepresents.Iamsooutofmydepthhere.
“I’mnotgoingtohurtyou,Anastasia.”
Iknowhespeaksthetruth.Itakehishand,andheleadsmeoutthedoor.
“Ifyoudothis,letmeshowyou.”Ratherthangoingbackdownstairs,heturnsrightoutoftheplayroom,ashecallsit,anddownacorridor.Wepassseveraldoorsuntilwereachtheoneattheend.Beyonditisabedroomwithalargedoublebed,allinwhite…everything—furniture,walls,bedding.It’ssterileandcoldbutwiththemostgloriousviewofSeattlethroughtheglasswall.
“Thiswillbeyourroom.Youcandecorateithowyoulike,havewhateveryoulikeinhere.”
“Myroom?You’reexpectingmetomovein?”Ican’thidethehorrorinmyvoice.
“Notfulltime.Just,say,FridayeveningthroughSunday.Wehavetotalkaboutallthat,negotiate.Ifyouwanttodothis,”headds,hisvoicequietandhesitant.
“I’llsleephere?”
“Yes.”
“Notwithyou.”
“No.Itoldyou,Idon’tsleepwithanyone,exceptyouwhenyou’restupefiedwithdrink.”Hisvoiceisreprimanding.
Mymouthpressesinahardline.ThisiswhatIcannotreconcile.Kind,caringChristian,whorescuesmefrominebriationandholdsmegentlywhileI’mthrowingupintotheazaleas,andthemonsterwhopossesseswhipsandchainsinaspecialroom.
“Wheredoyousleep?”
“Myroomisdownstairs.Come,youmustbehungry.
