New York is heaving. It always is. It's like the entire population of the US is squeezed into the smallest most dense corner of the country. It's a bottle neck of 8.4 million people.

The receptionist at the desk smiles brightly at me as I approach her. I smile back, distracted by the email I'm reading from Mia. She wants to come and stay with me for a week during the holidays since Mum and Dad are going to London. She doesn't want to spend it alone or at school in Paris. I don't have the attention span right now to type out a lengthy email reply. Maybe I should wait until Monday, call her then.

"Welcome to the Four Seasons New York Sir. Can I have your name?"

"Grey. Christian Grey." I say distractedly as I tap out the reply. She can come. It'd be great to see her and if I don't respond she'll only call and I can't speak to her right now. I can't speak to anyone right now.

"Mr Grey, how wonderful to see you again sir. You're with us for 3 nights this time is that correct?" She asks me in her overly polite tone.

"Yes, 3, " I confirm. "Are there any messages for me? A package? It should have been delivered by now." I slide my phone back in my pocket and turn my full attention on her.

"I'll just check that for you Mr Grey. If you could just sign here please." She says handing me a tablet and a small stylus. The screen says my name and and has the details of my booking which I review quickly. She flashes me another smile - this time flirtatious - and turns to go look for my parcel. I notice from the screen that they have me in the presidential suite, which is what I had Andrea request. I'd refused Cross's offer of his hotel. I didn't want him to think I owed him anything. I didn't want to owe him anything. He'd done more than enough. I wanted to get in and out of this city as soon as possible.

"Here we are Mr Grey. It was hand delivered this morning." She says handing me a brown manilla envelope. Its substantial. Thick and heavy, and has the words 'confidential' emblazoned across it in bold red letters. My stomach lurches at the thought of what it contains.

"Thank you." I say taking it from her. I slide it into the front compartment of my travel bag, and zip it, before turning back to back to her. She's holding out a branded keycard pouch in her neatly manicured hand.

"Here's your key sir. You're in our Presidential Suite North on the 51st floor. If there is anything else I can help you with, please don't hesitate to ask." She says this in a tone which makes me wonder if she is perhaps offering something other than the services of the hotel. I take a moment to look her over. Blonde - not my type - but attractive nonetheless. She's the sort of woman you know everything about before you've even had a conversation with her. Eager to please - which I most certainly preferred - however she would undoubtedly have no interests other than talking about men with her girlfriends and reading Instyle magazine. No. Definitely not my type.

I nod my thanks and head towards the bank of elevators on the other side of the lobby. The Foyer is busy, its always busy. Just like the rest of the city. I wonder if there's any such thing as a quiet spot in New York. Gideon would know. He knew New York like the back of his hand, or like he knew his way between a woman's legs as he'd joked the first time I'd met him.

The only thing I liked about being here was the anonymity. I'm not known here. Not like I am on the west coast. Not like I am in Seattle. There I can't leave the fucking apartment without being hounded by paparazzi and the occasional charity case looking to exploit my black philanthropic heart.

Decorated in marble and beige, the Presidential suite at the Four Seasons is large. Ridiculously so. However the views are incredible. Certainly a match for Escala. The lounge and bedroom overlook central park which today is bathed in sunshine. March in New York was better than August in New York that much was certain.

I dump my case in the bedroom, though not before digging out the brown envelope. I loosen my tie as I walk back through the suite. The envelope feels ominous in my hand as I carry it. Gently, I lay it flat on the glass dining table as though it's an explosive device. Which I suppose it is in a way. It certainly has enough power to destroy. Crossing the room to the fully stocked bar, I pour myself a very large scotch. Taking 3 large gulps I pull out my blackberry and make the call.

"Cross," he answers brusquely. His voice is deep and curt like I remember it.

"It's me," I say feeling oddly exposed. "I'm here. I'm in New York." His momentary silence tells me he's surprised

"Where are you staying?" He asks me, in a gentler tone. A familiar tone.

I take another long sip of the MaCallan. It burns all the way down my throat. Its a comforting pain though. My favourite kind. "Where do you think I'm staying?"

"The Four Seasons." He says without hesitation. I stay silent to confirm. "Ok, I have something I need to finish here and then I'll be over. Say an hour? I'll meet you in the bar?"

"I don't think us having a drink together in the bar is going to do this situation any favours do you?" I state flatly.

He sighs. "Fine. I'll come to your room."

I snort and he curses under his breath which I choose to ignore.

"I'll see you in an hour. I'm in presidential suite north." I tell him.

"Of course you are." He says. I don't need to see the smirk on his face to know its there.

I hang up and drain the glass. Gideon fucking Cross. Still a prick. But then, it wasn't as though his success was likely to have made him any less of one. It hadn't with me.

I look scornfully at the envelope and pour myself another scotch before heading through to the bedroom. After another burning gulp I place the glass on the bedside table and start undressing. I need a shower. I need more than that. But there's no time. This was a complication that had cut into my weekend. I needed to deal with it quickly and get back to Seattle. I wanted to be back on the plane Sunday morning at the latest. At the back of my mind is the bloody interview. I had a strange uneasiness about some girl from WSU prying into my life. I kept my own council. But Kate Kavanagh, was the daughter of Martin Kavanagh of Kavanagh Media. She'd pestered my PR department for months for this interview which I'd finally relented and agreed to. I had no idea why other than it made sense to keep her father's behemoth media company on side incase I needed his help one day. Perhaps sooner rather than later as it happened. A cold shiver ran through me as I thought of it. I'd looked her up out of curiosity. She was blonde, and though pretty in an obvious way, she wasn't my type.  Which meant that at least I didn't have to worry about wanting to dominate a college student.

The shower is punishing. Like a thousand needles hitting off my skin. It was just on the cusp of painful. I liked it. I close my eyes and lean forward, pressing my head onto the cool granite stone of the shower wall. I hadn't thought about Gideon Cross in a while. I hadn't particularly wanted to. Now I had no choice. I had to think about him, and about that night, and how it was suddenly here and now and not in the far recesses of my mind. What the fuck was she playing at? We should have known. Fuck that, he should have known.

Finally, after what seems like an hour, I twist off the shower and step out onto the heated bathroom floor. I wrap the white bath towel around my waist and look at myself in the mirror. I see what I always see. Imperfection. Inside and out. Skin marred by memories of who I am. Who I've tried hard to prove I'm not. I wondered if I'd ever see past it. Or if anyone else would.

I run a towel briefly over my head and go through to the bedroom, the scotch calling to me from the side of the bed. I never drink scotch. Rarely. I prefer wine or beer, but it seemed appropriate today. An appropriate, sensory reminder of a shared history I had with the guy who'd be here shortly.

I dress in grey slacks and a white t-shirt and carry my glass into the lounge to refill it before flicking on the tv. As I flick through the channels until I find CNN, I let my gaze drop to the envelope. How the hell had this happened? How had we allowed it to happen? She'd wanted it. Begged for it. What had taken her so fucking long to do this? None of it made sense. I reach forward and slide the envelope towards me. I'm sure Gideon had gotten the same one. With the same contents. A taster of which he'd emailed to a private anonymous account he advised I set up. My breathing quickens as I slide out the contents.

They were all in black and white. Screenshots from a video camera. The angle was to the side of the bed meaning that she must have had it on a table by the door. In the first one I was standing on the opposite side of the bed facing the camera, watching him take her from behind as I stroked myself. Gideon was holding her hips as he pounded into her. In a few of the pictures his face was visible, in others mine was. Interestingly, or perhaps not, the pictures only showed me fucking her whilst she was tied up. I'd demanded she be tied up.

In any case we both looked as guilty as each other. He'd held her arms, as I tied. The reality was that she was so weak after him that she couldn't lift her arm above her head and so he'd kissed her and held her, and whispered to her, asking her over and over if she really wanted me too. When she'd begged for me I'd been too turned on to refuse. I'd agreed on only on one condition; that she be tied up. There was no way I could have her touching me. No one touched me. Gideon hadn't known about my singular tastes. I expect he just thought I was into a 'bit of kink'. His eyes had widened in surprise when I'd mentioned bondage, as though he never really thought I had it in me. She'd moaned sensually and pleaded for him to help her. So yeah, on the pictures it looked extremely bad for us. It looked like we'd tied her up and taken turns on her. I feel my fist curl around the glass as I replayed the events of that night over in my head. Stupid Grey. Very fucking stupid. A naive ill informed decision made under the influence of scotch and arousal.

A firm a pounding on the door of the suite a moment later breaks my little trip down memory lane. The noise makes every muscle in my body tense up, and my groin tighten fractionally.

In a half daze, I walk towards the door. Then, with my hand on the handle I take a deep breath, before straightening my spine and grazing my tongue lightly across my lips. Only when I'm ready do I open the door.

When I do Gideon is smiling. Actually smiling. As though he was happy to see me. As though we were just old friends catching up. Fuck, I guess we were. He was the closest thing to a friend I'd had during my time at Harvard. He was the closest thing to a friend I'd probably ever had. And look where it had landed us.

He's dressed in an immaculate grey 3-piece suit and white shirt, collar open, no tie. His hair is short, shorter than it was back then, shorter than I'd seen it in any of the photos of him I'd come across over the years. He also has a few days worth of growth on his face. It added something to him. A darkness, an edge. Like he didn't have enough of that already. He was still a powerful looking guy. Larger than me physically, bulkier, and with the bluest eyes I'd ever seen on a woman or a man. It contrasted well with his hair. He was a good looking guy. Well put together. I could appreciate that. I swallowed as an image of him, standing in the half light corner of the room, watching me fuck her flooded into my brain. The warm tightening in my groin intensified.

"Christian fucking Grey. In the flesh." He says with a relaxed smile that lit up his eyes.

"Trevelyan Grey." I correct before stepping back to let him into the room. As he crosses the threshold I get a scent of something. Something that smelled like sex. Knowing him it probably was. Why did the thought of that irritate me?

"Trevelyan Fucking Grey then," He says with a chuckle. It gets my back up. So he comes here smelling of sex - meaning that fucking someone was the something he had to finish - and he opens with a joke? "So how've you been Grey? World domination working out okay for you?" he says as he shrugs out of his jacket.

"It has its perks. You should know." I say as I close the door to the suite.

He nods, moving to take a seat on the large white armchair by the window and stretching his legs out. "Mine's a scotch. Neat." He smiles at me.

I say nothing but move to the bar and pour him a large glass of the MaCallan before crossing the room to where he's sitting. As I hand him the glass, our hands graze and I feel a light sweat break out across the back of my neck. Gideon seems to have no visible reaction that I can see. He just nods his thanks before lifting the glass to his lips. "Should have stayed at my place. It's far classier than this."

"This is the four seasons Gideon. It doesn't get any classier than this." I say as I lift my own glass from the table and take a seat across from him.

"Yeah, well. Thats a matter of opinion."

"So are we comparing New York hotels or are we going to talk about why I'm actually here?"

"Still as sociable as ever I see." He smirks. I'm about to tell him that if he smirks at me again I will punch him in the fucking face, but his phone starts buzzing, loudly. He retrieves it from his pocket and stares at it. The smile that spreads across his face is clearly fuelled by the remembrance of something sexual, but also tender. A girl. Maybe even an important one by the look of it. Jealousy flares through me. I wanted that. The thought was clear as a stab in the chest. I wanted a girl who cared about where I was. Who made me smile like that when she made contact.  But then, I wanted a lot of things. 

"Gideon? Can we focus here for a minute?" I snap, irritated.

"Yeah, yeah. Ok." He says and slides his phone back into his pocket.

"Do you mind telling me how it's possible for you to be so relaxed about all this? Like this is some minor inconvenience. Is this a joke to you?" I ask narrowing my eyes.

"I'm not relaxed." He says sipping at his scotch, staring at me intently over the rim. "And its not a fucking joke."

"Good. Then we're  finally on the same page," I run my hands through my damp hair. "So how the hell is this even possible? How could we not have known?"

"Known she was a deviant, or known she was filming us?"

"Well we both knew she was a bit deviant." I mutter.  I'm thinking deviant isnt really the word I'd use to describe what happened.  A threesome was slightly kinky at best.  I was deviant. 

"Yeah well it was one of the reasons I liked her.  She was fun." He says. "You were the big surprise that night Grey to be honest. So.....you still into that bondage stuff?" He asks raising an eyebrow. I almost laugh out loud. That bondage stuff. I was a master at 'that bondage stuff'. Quite literally.

I narrow my eyes on him. "Seriously? Do you actually think we are about to have a discussion about my sex life?"

He shrugs and shifts, then leans forward on his thighs. "Ok, well I guess since neither of us knew what the hell was gonna happen theres really no point in looking where to put the blame." He sips again. "We were kids messing around in college. The same thing must have been happening in a hundred dorm rooms on campus."

"Yes well it looks like we raped her Gideon." I state. "If she follows through on her threats then this could be very very messy for us."

"It was a long time ago, almost 8 years." He muses.

"I know that. It doesn't matter. The statute of limitations in Massachusetts for sexual assault is 15 years. We are both entirely screwed."

"That's not going to happen." He says shaking his head. He takes a long sip of the scotch and rubs the back of his neck. I can't tell if he's saying this because he has a plan, or because he has a very positive outlook. Though the latter wasn't something I particularly associated with Gideon Cross. He shakes his head again. "I can't get convicted of a sexual assault Christian." He says quietly. Yeah, he doesn't have the outlook. Etched cross his handsome face is worry. Fear even.

"Oh really? You can't? Because I was thinking that it might actually not be all that bad. No such thing as bad publicity right?" I growl.

I think maybe I'm literally on the cusp of a panic attack as the series of events unfold in my mind. The headlines, the call for witnesses, my previous relationships, or rather the fifteen women I had beat and fucked into submission being called upon to give evidence against me. No non disclosure agreement was worth the paper it was printed on if they were called to the stand. The sweat on my neck increases. Jesus, Elena. Would that get out too? My parents... my company... the thought was inconceivable. I wasnt going there.

"You always were such a humourless fucking bastard Grey.  Seriously do you ever laugh?" He grunts.

"Well when you find something worth laughing about Gideon and I'll be happy to oblige." I growl, standing. I walk to the bar and bring the bottle of scotch back and fill my glass before shoving the bottle in his direction.

He takes it from me and fills his glass placing the bottle down on the low table between us. "Ok, I have an idea." He says. Oh this should be interesting. If I remember correctly, it was his idea that had landed us here.  Or was it hers..

"I'm listening." I say sitting back down in the chair.

"You won't like it."

"Spit it out Gideon."

"We invite her here." He says with a small smile. "I think she'll come. Then we'll talk to her. Threaten her, proposition her again. Whatever it takes."

"Are you insane?"

"Told you you wouldn't like it."

"This is your deviant ex girlfriend we're talking about here. The one who is blackmailing us for some reason she is yet to disclose. She's probably still in love with you. This is your fucking mess Gideon. I should never have..." I stop myself from saying anymore. The rage is boiling under my skin, the blood pounding in my ears, panic attempting to suffocate me. Control Grey. Fucking Control. I try and breathe.

"Oh like we don't all have one crazy ex, hovering just on the sidelines waiting for their chance to destroy us. Give me a fucking break Grey."

"I don't." I state matter of fact. I don't have any ex's. I have submissives, all of whom were contractually obliged not to destroy me. And one dominant. One dominant who was now a friend and mentor. No. I did not have any crazy ex's. This was all Gideon's mess.

"Well aren't you just fucking perfect." He spits. "You have any other ideas then?"

I take a deep breath and try to think rationally. "Well she's the daughter of a senator and married to the CEO of a multi-national. What the hell are we supposed to do? Blackmail her back?" Without involving anyone in my team, which I really didn't want to do right now, I really had no clue how to handle this. "What does she want Gideon? She's a married woman, she's financially comfortable. Why the is she doing this? You know her better than I do."

He gives me a look that tells me I'm wrong. "I honestly have no idea. Maybe she is still in love..." He says staring at me intently. He shakes his head. "Lets ask her." He says calmly. His voice sounds lazier. He's half drunk. Which is all I need. Him making inebriated decisions. If I remember correctly, which I do, it was another inebriated decision which had brought us here. Except, I didn't have any other ideas. With just the photos and a threat of exposure we didn't really have a whole lot of other options at present. Standing, I cross to the large panoramic windows. See Charlotte Van der Straeten again after all this time. The first girl I had tied up and fucked. The first girl I had hit; my gateway. She was also the only girl I had ever fucked while being watched.

Slowly I turn back around to face him. He's staring at me intently, blue eyes sparkling with the effects of scotch and a shared sexual memory I'm sure. It's a heated gaze which brings back so many memories. Memories I'd tried very hard to forget. Memories it was clear I wasn't going to be allowed to forget.

Raising the glass to my lips. "Fine. Call her. Invite her here. Tonight. I want this over with." I tilt the last of the scotch back and it singes its way down my throat.

"Ok." He nods. "Lets do this." He says and reaches into his pocket for his cell.