Пятьдесят оттенков серого
Chapter 14
WhatkindoflifedidhehavebeforetheGreysgotholdofhimandrescuedhim?
I’mseizedbyasenseofrawoutrage.Poor,fucked-up,kinky,philanthropicChristian—thoughI’msurehewouldn’tseehimselfthiswayandwouldrepelanythoughtsofsympathyorpity.Abruptly,everyoneburstsintoapplauseandstands.Ifollow,thoughIhaven’theardhalfhisspeech.He’sdoingallofthesegoodworks,runningahugecompany,andchasingmeatthesametime.It’soverwhelming.Irememberthebriefsnippetsofconversationshe’shadaboutDarfur…itallfallsintoplace.Food.
Hesmilesbrieflyatthewarmapplause—evenKateisclapping—thenheresumeshisseat.Hedoesn’tlookmyway,andI’moff-kiltertryingtoassimilatethisnewinformationabouthim.
Oneofthevicechancellorsrises,andwebeginthelong,tediousprocessofcollectingourdegrees.Therearemorethanfourhundredtobegivenout,andittakesjustoveranhourbeforeIhearmyname.Imakemywayuptothestagebetweenthetwogigglinggirls.Christiangazesdownatme,hislookwarmbutguarded.
“Congratulations,MissSteele,”hesaysasheshakesmyhand,squeezingitgently.Ifeelthechargeofhisfleshonmine.“Doyouhaveaproblemwithyourlaptop?”
Ifrownashehandsmemydegree.
“No.”
“Thenyouareignoringmye-mails?”
“Ionlysawthemergersandacquisitionsone.”
Helooksquizzicallyatme.
“Later,”hesays,andIhavetomoveonbecauseI’mholdinguptheline.
Igobacktomyseat.E-mails?Hemusthavesentanother.Whatdiditsay?
Theceremonytakesanotherhourtoconclude.
