Temptation Builds

My mother, Carla, decided that she would have a six month long honeymoon immediately after her wedding with her four year long boyfriend, Bob. She had arranged for me to go live with this 'estranged Uncle' I now apparently had through inheritance of marriage- Bob's brother. Husband Number Two, Ray, and the man I consider to be my true father isn't doing very well, and he's in-and-out of hospital battling pancreatic cancer currently so staying with him wasn't an option unfortunately.

So it was to be quickly arranged that I go live with this supposed Uncle of mine while she and Bob were alone on some remote island sipping margaritas and getting sunburned. When ever I would ask her where her and Bob were planning to go, she'd actually be elusive. She'd tell me, "Ana, it isn't the destination that matters, honey. It's more so the experience." After a while and being constantly evasive, I took it as a hint that she didn't really want to tell me where her and Bob had planned to go. It kind of hurt that she didn't want to trust me, but at the same time, I could understand. All that matters is that her and Bob are happy, and that they have a great time together.

The wedding was great, at least. My mother let me play a more active role in being one of her bridesmaids, and I finally got to witness firsthand how truly happy Bob made her. Then Bob spent the time reassuring me that his brother was a great person, that I'd have fun staying with him because he is supposedly very cultured and runs his own business; that he's supposedly the youngest of the family and he lives in a very nice set-up.

I wasn't very enthused to have to live with a stranger for a full six months, to say the least. But Ray would check-in now and again, making sure I was all right. Carla and Bob, too. Bob and Carla had assured me that his brother would be waiting to pick me up from the airport, holding one of those embarrassing high-lighter orange signs with my name on it so I see him, that it'll be great.

So here, I am, already on a plane to Seattle. It isn't so hard. I think its the turbulence and taking off and landing that frightens me the most. Fortunately, I was allowed to bring a book with me to read while on the two hour journey to Seattle. Reading my favorite book, Tess of the D'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy ends up being the good distraction I need. I also brought my iPod on the plane with me, just in case I begin to get bored with reading. I just hope this person actually turns up and that I won't be stranded at the airport. I know it's ridiculous to think like that, because I hardly think Bob and my own mother would lie about it, but you never know, I guess.

The light goes on, signalling that every passenger must put their seat belts back on as we prepare to land, and I take a deep breath, shutting my book and clicking my belt back on. This is the part I dread.

I end up keeping my eyes tightly closed while the plane lands. It's less nerve-wracking that way. We bumped down once, twice, three times, and then it seemed to go a bit more smoother on the landing strip, so it wasn't as bad as I had anticipated it was.

Once allowed to finally vacate, I grab my small bag out of the luggage compartment, shoving my book and my iPod back into it.

Tricky part came next, in finding my bags. As it turns out, I spot my suitcase fairly quickly, wheeling my suitcase through the area where people wait to be picked up by their loved ones, glancing around nervously. Already, at this hour in the morning, the airport is busy with people crying, happy to see their significant others or babies wailing, just desperate to get home.

I bite by lip as I glance around nervously, noticing a person holding a sign. It doesn't say 'Anastasia' on it, though. Instead, it says 'Emily'. Clearly not me.

Remembering I'm allowed to switch my phone on now, I drop my bag at my Converse sneakers, bending down while unzipping it. I find my phone, and I switch it on, glancing around me again as people rush on past, carrying their bags and wheeling their luggage carts.

I glance up again, and then, I see it.

A sign, about five meters ahead of me, held high in the air. 'Anastasia Steele', it says, in neon pink highlighter. Quickly standing, I begin pushing and maneuvering my suitcase towards him, pushing past a crowd of people hugging and crying. The crowd disperses and... is that really him? Can that be him?

The man's a lot older than I was expecting, though Bob is fifty three, or so I think my mother told me anyway. He's dressed in a tailored, light blue suit, very snazzy looking, with a light beard and an auburn buzz-cut. He sort of looks like an intimidating military man.

He lowers the obnoxious sign as he meets my gaze while I smile at him nervously.

"Excuse me, but are you Bob Grey's younger brother? I'm Ana Steele."

"Actually, something came up with Mr Grey. I'm here on an errand to collect you." He looks me over with his light eyes and a warm smile, although even smiling, he still seems rather intimidating. "I'm Jason Taylor, ma'am."

"Oh. Okay?"

Startling me, he reaches out, grabbing my suitcase to wheel it along.

"Oh, you really don't have to do that," I begin to protest, but its too late.

He insists, and then I follow closely behind him, struggling to keep up. Out the double doors of the airport and onto the busy street, he guides me over a pedestrian crossing to where a shining, black new model Mercedes is waiting for us. This must be our car, because he opens it up for me.

Jason Taylor doesn't speak much as I sit in and get comfortable in the backseat. He shuts the door then I turn around, watching him anxiously as he opens the boot of the car, stowing my suitcase inside. He really didn't have to go through so much trouble; I could have easily done it myself.

The drive is spent in utter, uncomfortable silence while Jason Taylor drives, weaving in and out of Seattle's busy mid-morning traffic. I find myself gnawing on my fingernails nervously, looking out the window while occasionally meeting his gaze in the mirror. I really wish he would say something. Or put on some music even, at the very least. I could do with some music to ease my nerves.

"Um, so who is Robert's younger brother if it's not you?" I force myself to ask.

"That's Mr Grey, ma'am. Christian. Unfortunately he got called in for an unscheduled business meeting, so he sent me off in his place." I suppose that makes sense, but I still feel uneasy not knowing who this Christian guy is, aside from him being my mother's new husbands brother.

"And what's he like? Christian?"

"He's a decent man, ma'am," Jason Taylor simply says. And that's it. Decent, as though that explains everything.

Just to distract myself, I peer out of the window again, looking up at the sky. Seattle really is far different from where I grew up. It seems busier, with taller buildings. I wonder if it will rain later. It certainly looks that way, considering how dark and cloudy it appears outside.

Jason Taylor lets me know we're near to our destination when he signals into an underground area. "We'll just go up to Mr Grey's personal garage, and then I'll help you take your luggage up, ma'am."

It's like a winding route up numerous garage floors, then he indicates into a spot of one filled with several cars of different makes and models, all new looking and clean. I wonder who all these cars belong to, but don't have the heart to ask about it. Once he parks smoothly into a spot, Jason Taylor exits the car, holding my door open for me.

I climb out rather ungraciously while slipping the straps of my backpack over my shoulders, then he closes up the door, heading behind the car to get my luggage out. I still really wish he would just let me cart my own suitcase around. It isn't that heavy; just with all my clothes, some books, and personal care items for my stay, as well as eight hundred dollars that my mother gave me for food.

Once the car is securely locked up, Jason guides me to an elevator. He has to insert a key card, then as we enter in, when the mechanical doors slot closed, he has to insert it again, pressing the button up to top level floor, penthouse suite.

Once the elevator dings to the floor, Jason Taylor has to tap in a security number into the keypad, and then the doors slowly open. I hesitate before following him. Already, this entire thing seems rather grand, especially if it said we were going to be on the top floor in a penthouse suite.

The elevators open up into a large, all-white foyer. A man is standing near a white armchair. He merely nods Jason's way before letting us walk past. I look back at the man anxiously, noticing he's dressed much like Taylor in a fancy suit. Is he something of a security guard?

"This way, please, ma'am," Jason Taylor says, holding open a set of doors, but I get distracted looking at the walls.

They are decorated with abstract, interesting paintings. There's a small table with a light blue vase and white flowers on it.

As I wander through the doors, I can feel the breath leaving me. The room opens up into an even larger setting. White themed tile floors, all pristine and shining. A wide corridor. Furthest to where I've walked in, it is surrounded by windows that open up onto a balcony that showcases the view of Seattle from high up. Whoever this Christian Grey is that I'm staying with, he is obviously rich by the looks of it. Sickly rich.

I loiter into what must be the living room area. There's a huge flat-screen TV, probably the hugest I have ever seen, next to an indoor electric fireplace. An electric fire is already on and flickering gently, radiating a pleasant heat around the room. And right in the center of that TV is an equally as huge white U-shaped sofa that could probably seat eleven people. A large modern stereo system on the wall. More paintings.

My sneakers squeak against the pristine floor as I head around the room, looking at everything. I enter into another room that opens up to be a kitchen, with stainless steel, neat-looking electric ovens and white granite benches. The refrigerator is stainless steel, double door, and my curiosity getting the better of me, I open it, glancing in at the contents of this man's fridge.

It's fully stocked with juices, bottles of water, cans of cokes, and fruit and vegetables, among other things. I wonder if it always looks like this. Doesn't this man eat or does someone come in every day to replace what he's already used?

Near the refrigerator on a bench is a wine rack, with various unopened bottles of wine. A fruit bowl with shiny green apples. This guy is seriously lucky.

Someone clears their throat from behind me curtly, and I jump. It's Jason Taylor, catching me out snooping.

"I'll show you to your bedroom, ma'am," he says, and I follow him obediently with an apologetic laugh.

He guides me up a flight of stairs. On the way up, I notice a grand piano near a window. Up the stairs we go, along a narrow hallway, then he opens a door for me. This room is just as amazing- and I gasp as I walk into it, shocked that it's all for me and it's where I'll be sleeping for the next six months. There's a large double bed, larger than the one I have at home, covered in a sleek satin purple duvet. All furniture is white- pretty much a running theme of the house. White headboard, white antique armchair by the window. White curtains, white dresser with mirror.

"Where would you like your suitcase, ma'am?" Jason Taylor asks, breaking me out of my amazement.

"Oh, just right there on the floors fine, thank you. I'll sort out my belongings now."

"Very well." He sets my suitcase on the ground, then nods at me once. Then, confusing me, he leaves the room, leaving me in privacy. I stare after him before I try to keep busy, looking around the room while unzipping my suitcase, pulling out my belongings.

I discover there is another door to the left wall that opens up into what must be my own personal bathroom. Not surprisingly, it's all white tiles and large bathtub. I find myself excited to use the bath.

I still don't know when I am going to meet Robert's younger brother, though. But the fact that he owns and can afford such a glorious house- it's amazing.

By two in the afternoon, I've unpacked everything. I've put my clothes neatly in the dresser and have put my shampoo and conditioner bottles, my toothpaste and toothbrush in the bathroom.

Not sure what to do now, I decide to go investigating again. Maybe even check out the view on the balcony. As I head back downstairs, I look at everything in the penthouse again. It is so amazing and, staying here, it will be like a holiday within itself. Who knew people actually lived like this full-time?

Reaching the sliding door that heads out onto the balcony, I unlock it, helping myself out. I stand by the railing, gripping it tight. The view is mind-blowing. High up, I see everything. All the tall skyscrapers, the dark and gloomy clouds in the sky. It's amazing.

I scare myself when I peer straight down through the railing, feeling instant vertigo coming on. I'm not exactly terrified of heights, but it feels rather daunting, how high up I am. I can see tiny little cars and traffic moving. Minuscule pedestrians walking.

Suddenly, I hear voices from inside. Men. I think one is Jason Taylor.

"She's arrived?"

"Yes, sir."

"And she seems to be settling in okay?"

"As far as I know, she is, Mr Grey, sir."

Mr Grey. He's here.

Taking in a deep breath, I turn, leaning my back against the railing, peering in through the glass on the balcony sliding doors. That's when I see him. I have to wonder if my eyes are deceiving me because he- Mr Grey- looks a lot younger than I was expecting. Bob may be in his fifties, but his youngest brother, he barely looks in his early thirties by what I can see of him. He must have noticed I was standing outside because, suddenly, he steps out onto the balcony, and my heart thumps wildly at the sight of him.

"Anastasia?" He extends a long-fingered hand out to me, and pulling myself together, I step forward to shake it.

"Um, yes. I'm Ana. Carla's daughter." My voice sounds wrong and I have to clear it. "You must be her new husband Bob's younger brother?"

"Yes, I am. Christian. It's a pleasure to meet you."

First thing I notice, is that he is extremely attractive. Dressed in a fine dark grey business suit, white shirt, with a grey tie. His hair is dark, copper colored, ruffling in the breeze on the balcony. I wasn't expecting Bob's brother to look like him at all.

It takes me a moment to find my voice. "Wow," I mutter without thinking. "I mean, you weren't what I was expecting Bob's brother to look like?" I feel stupid saying it, but fortunately for me, he just smiles, a friendly, warm smile that dazzles me.

"Trust me, I get that a lot. But we're not actually related, Bob and I."

"Oh, you aren't?" That's the first time I've heard of that.

"No, Robert was adopted into the family, same as me."

"Oh. I haven't known Bob long enough to know that, so that's probably why," I murmur. I can't believe my mother didn't tell me that or fill me in, though I suppose it isn't a big deal, the fact Bob was adopted. I try to remember if I saw this man attending Mom and Bob's wedding; I don't think he did. He surely wouldn't be a face you forget easily once introduced to. "Bob and my mother seem very happy together. I don't think I remember seeing you at the wedding?"

"That's because I wasn't there. I couldn't make it, unfortunately. I had... a busy work schedule to deal with."

I realize we're still shaking hands, gripping onto each others. We've probably gone over the length of time and and number of shakes necessary for a handshake to be considered polite and formal. My cheeks flush as I realize I quite like him touching me with his hands. What a strange way to feel about somebody I literally have never met before, not to mention inappropriate, given the age difference and how he is Bob's brother and all that. He must notice the same time as I do, because he clears his throat, moving his hand away. He tucks both hands into his trouser pockets instead.

"So you'll be staying here for six months?" he asks, and his gray eyes are intense, captivating. They really hold you in, and seemingly effortlessly.

"Um, yes. Six months while my mother and Bob are honeymooning." Striving for something else to say, I glance meaningfully back into his penthouse through the glass. "Your house is very impressive," I say quietly. "I've never seen a house look so great. You're very lucky."

He shrugs, as if brushing my compliment off, his gaze still on mine. I cannot believe how good-looking he is, particularly as a relative to Bob. "Taylor showed you your bedroom?" he asks me with some concern.

"Um, yes, he did. Thank you so much for letting me stay here, by the way."

"It was the least I could do for Bob," he says with another shrug. "You should grow to like it here."

"By the looks of it, I'm sure I will." I can definitely see myself enjoying it here.

"I have a few rules for you staying here," he says and my heart seems to stop. Great, rules. I wonder what rules they may be. "Simply precautionary measures for your safety, that sort of thing." He clears his throat again. "Well, I suppose I should leave and let you get more settled in. Excuse me." Before I can even tell him that I'm already pretty much settled, he turns around on the spot, heading back inside.

When I watch him through the glass, though trying not to be obvious about it, I see he's holding his phone in his hand, thumbing through what is probably his text messages.

Wow, though. I really was not expecting this at all.

This is my first time writing a 50 Shades fiction and my return to writing FF after a long hiatus so I am probably a bit rusty at this. If you are interested in more of this idea, I would very much like to know what you think. :-D Hope it doesn't matter that I changed things around a bit, such as Bob being adopted into the Grey family as well. It's just for the story. Christian will be his usual controlling, protective self over Ana, blurring lines while they live together.