Пятьдесят оттенков серого
Chapter 21
Irollmyeyesather,gratefulthatacertaintwitchy-palmedcontrolfreakisnotintheroom,andresolvetoaskhimaboutthepersonaltrainer.That’sifIsign.Myinnergoddessglaresatmeindesperation.Ofcourseyou’llsign.Iignorethemboth,andafteraquicktriptothebathroom,IgoinsearchofChristian.
He’snotintheartgallery,butanelegantmiddle-agedwomaniscleaninginthekitchenarea.Thesightofherstopsmeinmytracks.Shehasshortblondhairandclearblueeyes;shewearsaplainwhitetailoredshirtandanavy-bluepencilskirt.Shesmilesbroadlywhensheseesme.
“Goodmorning,MissSteele.Wouldyoulikesomebreakfast?”Hertoneiswarmbutbusinesslike,andIamstunned.WhoisthisattractiveblondeinChristian’skitchen?I’monlywearingChristian’sT-shirt.Ifeelself-consciousandembarrassedbymylackofclothing.
“I’mafraidyouhavemeatadisadvantage.”Myvoiceisquiet,unabletohidetheanxietyinmyvoice.
“Oh,I’mterriblysorry—I’mMrs.Jones,Mr.Grey’shousekeeper.”
Oh.
“Howdoyoudo?”Imanage.
“Wouldyoulikesomebreakfast,ma’am?”
Ma’am!
“Justsometeawouldbelovely,thankyou.DoyouknowwhereMr.Greyis?”
“Inhisstudy.”
“Thankyou.”
Iscuttleofftowardthestudy,mortified.WhydoesChristianonlyhaveattractiveblondesworkingforhim?Andanastythoughtcomesinvoluntarilyintomymind:Aretheyallex-subs?Irefusetoentertainthathideousidea.Ipokemyheadshylyroundthedoor.He’sonthephone,facingthewindow,inblackpantsandawhiteshirt.
