Пятьдесят оттенков серого
Chapter 1
Ihavedefinitelywornthewrongclothes.
Heturnsandsaysthroughthedoor,“Golfthisweek,Grey?”
Idon’thearthereply.Heturns,seesme,andsmiles,hisdarkeyescrinklingatthecorners.Oliviahasjumpedupandcalledtheelevator.Sheseemstoexcelatjumpingfromherseat.She’smorenervousthanme!
“Goodafternoon,ladies,”hesaysashedepartsthroughtheslidingdoor.
“Mr.Greywillseeyounow,MissSteele.Dogothrough,”BlondeNumberTwosays.Istandrathershakily,tryingtosuppressmynerves.Gatheringupmybackpack,Iabandonmyglassofwaterandmakemywaytothepartiallyopendoor.
“Youdon’tneedtoknock—justgoin.”Shesmileskindly.
Ipushopenthedoorandstumblethrough,trippingovermyownfeetandfallingheadfirstintotheoffice.
Doublecrap—meandmytwoleftfeet!IamonmyhandsandkneesinthedoorwaytoMr.Grey’soffice,andgentlehandsarearoundme,helpingmetostand.Iamsoembarrassed,damnmyclumsiness.Ihavetosteelmyselftoglanceup.Holycow—he’ssoyoung.
“MissKavanagh.”Heextendsalong-fingeredhandtomeonceI’mupright.“I’mChristianGrey.Areyouallright?Wouldyouliketosit?”
Soyoung—andattractive,veryattractive.He’stall,dressedinafinegraysuit,whiteshirt,andblacktiewithunrulydarkcopper-coloredhairandintense,brightgrayeyesthatregardmeshrewdly.Ittakesamomentformetofindmyvoice.
“Um.Actually—”Imutter.Ifthisguyisoverthirty,thenI’mamonkey’suncle.Inadaze,Iplacemyhandinhisandweshake.
