Fifty Shades Of Jones

Chapter 1

Damn my hair for not going up in a pony tail damn my hair for looking to perfect and damn Elsa Doyle for being ill and subjecting me to this ordeal. I should be studying for my final exams, which are next week, yet here I am trying to brush my hair into submission.

I roll my eyes in exasperation and gaze at the pale, blonde-haired girl with green eyes too big for her face staring back at me, and give up. My only option is to leave my hair down and hope that I look semi presentable.

Elsa is my roommate and best friend, she has chosen today of all days to succumb to the flu. Therefore, she cannot attend the interview she had arranged to do, with some mega-industrialist tycoon I've never heard of, for the student newspaper. Thus I have been to made to do it. Today I have to drive a hundred and sixty-five miles to downtown Seattle in order to meet the enigmatic CEO of Jones Enterprises Holdings Inc. As an exceptional entrepreneur and major benefactor of our University, his time is extraordinarily precious – much more precious than mine – but he has granted Elsa an interview. A real coup, she tells me. Damn her extra-curricular activities.

I walk into the living room to find elsa huddled up on the couch.

"elsa you love the cold and somehow you have gotten one."

"haha very funny"

"Emma, I'm sorry. It took me nine months to get this interview. It will take another six to reschedule, and we'll both have graduated by then. As the editor, I can't blow this off. Please," Elsa begs me in her rasping, sore throat voice. How does she do it? Even ill she looks an ice queen, white blonde hair in place and blue eyes bright, although now red-rimmed and runny. I ignore my pang of unwelcome sympathy. "Of course I'll go Elsa. You should get back to bed. "Here are the questions and iphone." "I have my phone Elsa now go back to bed." Only for you, Elsa would I do this. " Good luck. And thanks Emma – as usual, you're my lifesaver." Gathering my bag, I smile wryly at her, then head out the door to the bug. I cannot believe I have let Elsa talk me into this. But then Elsa can talk anyone into anything.

The roads are clear as I set off from Vancouver, WA toward Portland on the I-5. It's early, and I don't have to be in Seattle until two the afternoon. My destination is the headquarters of Mr. Jones's global enterprise. It's a huge twenty-eight story office building, all curved glass and steel, an architect's utilitarian fantasy, with Jones House written discreetly in steel over the glass front doors.

It's a quarter to two when I arrive, greatly relieved that I'm not late as I walk into the enormous – and frankly intimidating – glass, steel, and white sandstone lobby. Behind the solid sandstone desk, a very attractive, groomed, bruenette young woman smiles pleasantly at me. She's wearing the sharpest charcoal suit jacket and white shirt I have ever seen. She looks immaculate. "I'm here to see Mr. Jones. Emma Swan for Elsa Doyle." "Excuse me one moment, Miss Swan." She arches her eyebrow slightly as I stand confidently before her. I have made an effort and worn my one and only leather skirt, my sensible ankle high boots, black stockings, denim button up and a black blazer. For me, this is sensible. "Miss Doyle is expected. Please sign in here, Miss Swan. You'll want the last elevator on the right, press for the twenty-eighth floor." She smiles kindly at me, amused no doubt, as I sign in.

She hands me a security pass that has VISITOR very firmly stamped on the front. I can't help but smirk. Surely it's obvious that I'm just visiting. I don't fit in here at all. Thanking her, I walk over to the bank of elevators past the two security men who are both far more smartly dressed than I am in their well-cut black suits. The elevator whisks me with terminal velocity to the twenty-eighth floor. The doors slide open, and I'm in another large lobby – again all glass, steel, and white sandstone. I'm confronted by another desk of sandstone and young brunette woman dressed impeccably in black and white who rises to greet me. "Miss Swan, could you wait here, please?" she says in a Australian accent while pointing to a seated area of white leather chairs. Behind the leather chairs is a spacious glass-walled meeting room with an equally spacious dark wood table and at least twenty matching chairs around it. Beyond that, there is a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the Seattle skyline that looks out through the city toward the Sound. It's a stunning view, and I'm momentarily paralyzed by the view. Wow.