"If you do this, let me show you." Rather than going back downstairs, he turns right out of the playroom, as he calls it, and down a corridor. We pa.s.s several doors until we reach the one at the end. Beyond it is a bedroom with a large double bed, all in white...

everything, furniture, walls, bedding. It's sterile and cold but with the most glorious view of Seattle through the gla.s.s wall.

"This will be your room. You can decorate it how you like, have whatever you like in here."

"My roomYou're expecting me to move in?" I can't hide the horror in my voice.

"Not full time. Just say, Friday evening through Sunday. We have to talk about all that, negotiate. If you want to do this," he adds, his voice quiet and hesitant.

"I'll sleep here?"

"Yes."

"Not with you."

"No. I told you, I don't sleep with anyone, except you, when you're stupefied with drink." His eyes are reprimanding.

My mouth presses in a hard line. This is what I cannot reconcile. Kind, caring Christian, who rescues me from inebriation and holds me gently while I'm throwing up into the azaleas, and the monster who possesses whips and chains in a special room.

"Where do you sleep?"

"My room is downstairs. Come, you must be hungry."

"Weirdly, I seem to have lost my appet.i.te," I murmur petulantly.

"You must eat, Anastasia," he admonishes and, taking my hand, leads me back downstairs.

Back in the impossibly big room, I am filled with deep trepidation. I am on the edge of a precipice, and I have to decide whether or not to jump.

"I'm fully aware that this is a dark path I'm leading you down, Anastasia, which is why I really want you to think about this. You must have some questions," he says as he wanders into the kitchen area, releasing my hand.

I do. But where to start?

"You've signed your NDA, you can ask me anything you want, and I'll answer."

I stand at the breakfast bar watching him as he opens the refrigerator and pulls out a plate of different cheeses with two large bunches of green and red grapes. He sets the plate down on the worktop and proceeds to cut up a French baguette.

"Sit." He points to one of the bar stools at the breakfast bar, and I obey his command.

If I'm going to do this, I'm going to have to get used to it. I realize he's been this bossy since I met him.

"You mentioned paperwork."

"Yes."

"What paperwork?"

"Well, apart from the NDA, a contract saying what we will and won't do. I need to know your limits, and you need to know mine. This is consensual, Anastasia."

"And if I don't want to do this?"

"That's fine," he says carefully.

"But we won't have any sort of relationship?" I ask.

"No."

"Why?"

"This is the only sort of relationship I'm interesting in."

"Why?"

He shrugs.

"It's the way I am."

"How did you become this way?"

"Why is anyone the way they areThat's kind of hard to answer. Why do some people like cheese and other people hate itDo you like cheeseMrs. Jones - my housekeeper

- has left this for supper." He takes some large, white plates from a cupboard and places one in front of me.

We're talking about cheese... Holy c.r.a.p.

"What are your rules that I have to follow?"

"I have them written down. We'll go through them once we've eaten."

Food. How can I eat now?

"I'm really not hungry," I whisper.

"You will eat," he says simply. Dominating Christian, it all becomes clear. "Would you like another gla.s.s of wine?"

"Yes, please."

He pours wine into my gla.s.s and comes to sit beside me. I take a hasty sip.

"Help yourself to food, Anastasia."

I take a small bunch of grapes. This I can manage. He narrows his eyes.

"Have you been like this for a while?" I ask.

"Yes."

"Is it easy to find women who want to do this?"

He raises an eyebrow at me.

"You'd be amazed," he says dryly.

"Then why meI really don't understand."

"Anastasia, I've told you. There's something about you. I can't leave you alone." He smiles ironically. "I'm like a moth to a flame." His voice darkens. "I want you very badly, especially now, when you're biting your lip again." He takes a deep breath and swallows.

My stomach somersaults - he wants me... in a weird way, true, but this beautiful, strange, kinky man wants me.

"I think you have that cliche the wrong way round." I grumble. I am the moth and he is the flame, and I'm going to get burnt. I know.

"Eat!"

"No. I haven't signed anything yet, so I think I'll hang on to my free will for a bit longer, if that's okay with you."

His eyes soften, and his lips turn up in a smile.

"As you wish, Miss Steele."

"How many women?" I blurt out the question, but I'm so curious.

"Fifteen."

Oh... not as many as I thought.

"For long periods of time?"

"Some of them, yes."

"Have you ever hurt anyone?"

"Yes."

Holy s.h.i.t.

" Badly?"

"No."

"Will you hurt me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Physically, will you hurt me?"

"I will punish you when you require it, and it will be painful."

I think I feel a little faint. I take another sip of wine. Alcohol - this will make me brave.

"Have you ever been beaten?" I ask.