Chapter Six. As Ana climbs in the car, she wonders if she should mention what just happened. And did it really happen? He’s back to “normal” now, which for him seems to be cool and a million miles away. She’s so confused! No, you’re just stupid.
Grey puts on some music, opera. So, no Huey Lewis? Mr. Bateman, how you’ve changed! They talk about music, and she watches his face change and wonders if this is a clue to understanding him. Someone calls him, and he is brisk and rather impolite. She’s glad she doesn’t work for him, because he’s “too controlling and cold.” Well, just wait, I’m sure you’ll find out more very soon.
His brother calls, asking if he got some. Grey tells him who’s in the car, calling her by her full first name. She tells him she prefers “Ana.” Then he tells her that the scene in the elevator won’t be repeated unless it’s “premeditated.” She doesn’t understand. Again, how do you not understand this? And why don’t you ask your friend, Google, about it? He has plenty of information, and is always available.
As he gets the door, she realizes that he’d had her pinned in the elevator so that she couldn’t touch him. But she still liked it, and tells him so as she walks away. Grey’s brother is still with Kate; he’s really friendly. Kate is frosty with Grey, and Grey suggests he and Elliot leave. Elliot is very demonstrably affectionate, which makes Grey roll his eyes and Ana stare at the floor. Then Grey tucks a lock of hair back from her face and touches her mouth as he says, “Laters, baby,” in mockery of his brother’s adieu to Kate.
They leave, and Kate asks Ana if she did the deed, which annoys her. Damn, she’s supposedly your best girlfriend; if you can’t talk about sex with her, who CAN you talk to? Stop being so obnoxious to your friends. They both have dates for the evening, but I’m willing to bet that Kate’s will be more normal. Kate helps Little Miss Tomboy prepare for the evening before she goes to work. She’s shaved (does that mean you don’t, ordinarily?) and plucked and Turtle Wax-ed. Kate doesn’t trust Grey, “maybe because he is so stiff and formal,” Ana ponders. No, more like he’s extremely off-putting, moody, and stalkerish. She promised to text, but didn’t tell her about the helicopter. How does she think you’re getting there, then?
José has been calling her, but she’s still too angry to deal with him. She thinks about Grey’s paperwork comment, and she doesn’t know what to make of it. Well, dearest naive girl, certainly you know that everytime anyone ever has sex, a written contract must be signed and notarized.
When Grey finally arrives, he’s very formal and middle-aged. He holds her hand in the backseat, caressing it, which drives her virginal ass crazy. They take an elevator to the helicopter; as they ascend, they’re both thinking about their earlier encounter. He remarks that it’s only three floors, leading her to think that he’s “telepathic.” No, you’re more transparent than a pane of glass, that’s all.
Company helicopter. The old man behind the desk gets a smile from Grey. They climb into the helicopter, and Grey straps her in, tightly, “no escaping.” Gee, I wonder how many times he’s used THAT line. He gives her a quick kiss, then admits that he likes the harness. She doesn’t get it. Oh, well, too late now! But he’s a qualified pilot, so she’s safe, then he amends that to “while we’re flying.”
And now, the Innocent and the Wolf begin their flight. Helicopter talk; he has a helipad on his building. Of course he does! She begins fantasizing about touching his face. Less than an hour away now. “All the muscles clench deep in my belly.” For the third time, that.is.not.your.belly.
Ana wants to know if this is his way of impressing women, but Ana is the first one he’s taken in his ‘copter. Is that a euphemism? He enjoys flying because of the “control” and “concentration.” That’s a surprise.
They’re almost there. “My fate is in his hands.” Famous last words. But seriously, you are taking a big risk setting off for parts unknown in a helicopter with a man you’ve only known a couple of hours, at best. Just because he’s rich doesn’t mean he’s not a deviant. Oh, look, they’ve arrived. Fucking finally.
He tries to warn her one last time, presumably, by telling her that she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to do. She says she’d never do that, but knows she’s lying because right now, she’d do anything. Sounds like a dangerous precedent to set . . .
They climb out of the helicopter and descend via elevator into Grey’s palatial estate. It’s ritzy, big, mostly white, and has a fireplace. I described his place in one sentence, where it took the author about two paragraphs or so to say the same thing. This book needs an editor. He offers her some wine, and asks if his selection is okay, but she knows nothing about wine. They’re from different places – we get it.
They sip wine. He can play the piano well, in answer to her query. However, there are a few things our golden boy can’t do well – presumably, vanilla sex and romantic entanglements that don’t require a contract. He says nothing, however, just watches her. Looking around makes her think of Tess, which leads her to ask about why he chose that book specifically to gift. He replies that he “could hold [her] to some impossibly high ideal like Angel Clare or debase [her] like Alec D’urberville.” Well, that’s not sinister at all. She says she’ll take the debasement.
Wait, you read the damned book. What are you saying? Which he pretty much tells her, and then disappears for a moment, only to return with papers. A “non-disclosure agreement,” meaning she cannot discuss anything about them to anyone. She’s ready to sign it without reading it. Are you really that fucking stupid? ALWAYS read everything before you sign. Grey pretty much says the same thing. Now I’m waiting for the chapter where she grants him power of attorney. Her pitiful excuse is that she wouldn’t tell anyone about him, anyway, agreement or no. Not even to Kate? You’re such a good friend!
He seems to accept this, and she signs. The wine makes her giddy enough to ask if he’s going to “make love” to her. No, because he only has one mode – hardcore fucking, and two, there are more documents involved. She still has no idea what he’s all about. She could still leave. He desires her to see his “playroom,” which Miss Naivete thinks is where he keeps his Xbox. No, that’s where he’s going to ravish YOUR Xbox. Seriously, though, if that was his aim, video games, he’d call it a game room, or entertainment room, or something along those lines. “Playroom” is a term generally reserved for children and kinky folks who don’t want to scare off people by inviting them to the “sex dungeon.”
Outside the door, he warns her again that she can leave anytime; the helicopter is reserved for whenever she would like to leave. She’s staying, so he opens the door, and it feels like she’s “time-traveled back to the sixteenth century and the Spanish Inquisition.” Does he have the Judas Cradle or the Brazen Bull? Inquiring minds want to know!