chapterfour
i’mrestless.christianhasbeenholedupintheonboardstudyforoveran
hour.iha一vetriedreading,watchingtv,sunbathing—fullydressed
sunbathing!—butican’trelaxandican’tridmyselfofthisedgyfeeling.after
changingintoshortsandat-shirt,iremovetheludicrouslyexpensivebangle
andgotofindtaylor.
“mrs.grey,”hesays,startledfromhisanthonyburgessnovel.he’ssittingin
thesmallsalonoutsidechristian’sstudy.
“i’dliketogoshopping.”
“yesma’am.”hestands.
“i’dliketotakethejetski.”
hismouthdropsopen.“erm.”hefrowns,lostforwords.
“idon’twanttobotherchristianwiththis.”
heflushes.“mrs.grey...um...idon’tthinkmr.greywouldbevery
comfortablewiththat,andi’dliketokeepmyjob.”
oh,forhea一ven’ssake!iwanttorollmyeyesathim,butinarrowthem
instead,sighinghea一vilyandexpressing,ithink,therightamountoffrustrated
indignationthatiamnotmistressofmyowndestiny.thenagain,idon’twant
christianmadattaylor—orme,forthatmatter.stridingconfidentlypasthim,
iknockonthestudydoorandenter.christianisonhisblackberry,leaning
againstthemahoganydesk.hegazesatme.
“andrea,holdplease,”hemuttersdownthephone,hisexpressionserious.
hegazesatme,politelyexpectant.shit.whydoifeellikei’veenteredthe
principal’soffice?thismanhadmeinhandcuffsyesterday.irefusetobe
intimidatedbyhim,he’smyhusbanddamnit.isquaremyshouldersandgive
himabroadsmile.
“i’mgoingshopping.i’lltakesecuritywithme.”
“sure,takeoneofthetwinsandtaylor,too,”hesays.andiknowthat
whatever’shappeningisseriousbecausehedoesn’tquestionmefurther.i
standstaringathim,wonderingificanhelp.
“anythingelse?”heasks.hewantsmegone.crap.
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eljames
“canigetyouanything?”iask.hesmileshissweetshysmile.
“no,baby,i’mgood,”hesays.“thecrewwilllookafterme.”
“okay.”iwanttokisshim.hell,ican—he’smyhusband.strollingpurposefully
forward,iplantakissonhislips,surprisinghim.
“andrea,i’llcallyouback,”hemutters.heputstheblackberrydownonthe
deskbehindhim,pullsmeintohisembrace,andkissesmepassionately.i
ambreathlesswhenhereleasesme.hiseyesaredarkandneedy.
“you’redistractingme.ineedtosortthis,soicangetbacktomy
honeymoon.”herunsanindexfingerdownmyfaceandcaressesmychin,
tiltingmyfaceup.
“okay.i’msorry.”
“pleasedon’tapologize,mrs.grey.iloveyourdistractions.”hekissesthe
cornerofmymouth.
“gospendsomemoney.”hereleasesme.
“willdo.”ismirkathimasiexithisstudy.mysubconsciousshakesherhead
andpursesherlips.youdidn’ttellhimyouweregoingonthejetski,she
chastisesmeinhersingsongvoice.iignoreher...harpy.
taylorispatientlywaiting.
“that’sallclearedwithhighcommand...canwego?”ismile,tryingtokeep
thesarcasmoutofmyvoice.taylordoesn’thidehisadmiringsmile.
“mrs.grey,afteryou.”
taylorpatientlytalksmethroughthecontrolsonthejetskiandhowtorideit.
hehasacalm,gentleauthorityabouthim;he’sagoodteacher.wearein
themotorlaunch,bobbingandwea一vingonthecalmwatersoftheharbor
besidethefairlady.gastonlookson,hisexpressionhiddenbyhisshades,
andoneofthefairlady’screwisatthecontrolsofthemotorlaunch.jeez—
threepeoplewithme,justbecauseiwanttogoshopping.it’sridiculous.
zippingupmylifejacket,igivetaylorabeaminggrin.heholdsouthishand
toassistmeasiclimbontothejetski.
“fastenthestrapoftheignitionkeyaroundyourwrist,mrs.grey.ifyoufall
off,theenginewillcutoutautomatically,”heexplains.
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fiftyshadesfreed
“okay.”
“ready?’
inodenthusiastically.
“presstheignitionwhenyou’vedriftedaboutfourfeetawayfromtheboat.
we’llfollowyou.”
“okay.”
hepushesthejetskiawayfromthelaunch,anditfloatsgentlyintothemain
harbor.whenhegivesmetheokaysign,ipresstheignitionbuttonandthe
engineroarsintolife.
“okay,mrs.grey,easydoesit!”taylorshouts.isqueezetheaccelerator.
thejetskilurchesforwardthenstalls.crap!howdoeschristianmakeit
looksoeasy?itryagain,andonceagain,istall.doublecrap!
“juststeadyonthegas,mrs.grey,”taylorcalls.
“yeah,yeah,yeah,”imutterundermybreath.itryoncemore,verygently
squeezingthelever,andthejetskilurchesforward—butthistimeitkeeps
going.yes!itgoessomemore.haha!itstillkeepsgoing!
iwanttoshoutandsquealinexcitement,butiresist.icruisegentlyawayfrom
theyachtintothemainharbor.behindme,ihearthethroatyroarofthemotor
launch.whenisqueezethegasfurther,thejetskileapsforward,skating
acrossthewater.withthewarmbreezeinmyhairandafineseasprayon
eithersideofme,ifeelfree.thisrocks!nowonderchristianneverletsme
drive.
ratherthanheadfortheshoreandcurtailthefun,iveeraroundtodoacircuit
ofthestatelyfairlady.wow—thisissomuchfun.iignoretaylorandthe
crewbehindmeandspeedaroundtheyachtforasecondtime.asi
completethecircuit,ispotchristianondeck.ithinkhe’sgapingatme,
thoughit’sdifficulttotell.bra一vely,iliftonehandfromthehandlebarsand
wa一veenthusiasticallyathim.helookslikehe’smadeofstone,butfinallyhe
raiseshishandinthesemblanceofastiffwa一ve.ican’tworkouthis
expression,andsomethingtellsmeidon’twantto,soiheadtothemarina,
speedingacrossthebluewaterofthemediterraneanthatshimmersinthe
lateafternoonsun.atthedock,iwaitandlettaylorpullupaheadofme.his
expressionisbleak,andmyheartsinks,thoughgastonlooksvaguely
amused.iwonderbrieflyifsomethinghashappenedtochillgallicamerican
relations,butdeepdownisuspecttheproblemisprobably
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eljames
me.gastonleapsoutofthemotorboatandtiesittothemooringswhile
taylordirectsmetocomealongside.verygentlyieasethejetskiinto
positionbesidetheboatandlineupbesidehim.hisexpressionsoftensa
little.
“justswitchofftheignition,mrs.grey,”hesayscalmly,reachingforthe
handlebarsandholdingoutahandtohelpmeintothemotorboat.inimbly
climbaboard,impressedthatidon’tfallin.
“mrs.grey,”taylorblinksnervously,hischeekspinkoncemore.
“mr.greyisnotentirelycomfortablewithyouridingonthejetski.”
he’spracticallysquirmingwithembarrassment,andirealizehe’shadan
iratecallfromchristian.ohmypoor,pathologicallyoverprotective
husband,whatamigoingtodowithyou?
ismileserenelyattaylor.“isee.well,taylor,mr.greyisnothere,andifhe’s
notentirelycomfortable,i’msurehe’llgivemethecourtesyoftellingme
himselfwheni’mbackonboard.”
taylorwinces.“verygood,mrs.grey,”hesaysquietly,handingmemy
purse.
asiclimboutoftheboat,icatchaglimpseofhisreluctantsmile,andit
makesmewanttosmile,too.icannotbelievehowfondiamoftaylor,buti
reallydon’tappreciatebeingscoldedbyhim—he’snotmyfatherormy
husband.
crap,christian’smad—andhehasenoughtoworryaboutatthemoment.
whatwasithinking?asistandonthedockwaitingfortaylortoclimbup,i
feelmyblackberryvibrateinmypurseandfishitout.sadé’s“yourloveis
king”ismyringtoneforchristian—onlyforchristian.
“hi,”imurmur.
“hi,”hesays.
“i’llcomebackontheboat.don’tbemad.”
ihearhissmallgaspofsurprise.“um...”
“itwasfun,though,”iwhisper.
hesighs.“well,farbeitformetocurtailyourfun,mrs.grey.justbecareful.
please.”
ohmy!permissiontoha一vefun!“iwill.anythingyouwantfromtown?”
“justyou,backinonepiece.”
“i’lldomybesttocomply,mr.grey.”
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fiftyshadesfreed
“i’mgladtohearit,mrs.grey.”
“weaimtoplease,”irespondwithagiggle.
ihearhissmileinhisvoice.“iha一veanothercall—laters,baby.”
“laters,christian.”
hehangsup.jetskicrisisa一verted,ithink.thecariswaiting,andtaylor
holdsthedooropenforme.iwinkathimasiclimbin,andheshakeshis
headinamusement.
inthecar,ifireupthee-mailonmyblackberry.
from:anastasiagrey
subject:thankyou
date:august17,201116:55??
to:christiangrey
fornotbeingtoogrouchy.
yourlovingwife
xxx
from:christiangrey
subject:tryingtostaycalm
date:august17,201116:59
to:anastasiagrey
you’rewelcome.
comebackinonepiece.
thisisnotarequest.
x
christiangrey
ceo&overprotectivehusband,greyenterprisesholdingsinc.
hisresponsemakesmesmile.mycontrolfreak.
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eljames
whydidiwanttocomeshopping?ihateshopping.butdeepdowniknow
why,andiwalkdeterminedlypastchanel,gucci,dior,andtheother
designerboutiquesandeventuallyfindtheantidotetowhatailsmeina
small,overstocked,touristystore.it’salittlesilveranklebraceletwithsmall
heartsandlittlebells.ittinklessweetlyanditcostsfiveeuros.assoonasi’ve
boughtit,iputiton.thisisme—thisiswhatilike.immediatelyifeelmore
comfortable.idon’twanttolosetouchwiththegirlwholikesthis,ever.deep
downiknowthati’mnotonlyoverwhelmedbychristianhimselfbutalsoby
hiswealth.willievergetusedtoit?
taylorandgastonfollowmedutifullythroughthelateafternooncrowds,andi
soonforgettheyarethere.iwanttobuysomethingforchristian,something
totakehismindoffwhat’shappeninginseattle.butwhatdoibuyforthe
manwhohaseverything?ipauseinasmallmodernsquaresurroundedby
storesandgazeateachoneinturn.whenispyanelectronicsstore,ourvisit
tothegalleryearliertodayandourvisittothelouvrecomebacktome.we
werelookingatthevenusdemiloatthetime...christian’swordsechoin
myhead,“wecanallappreciatethefemaleform.welovetolookwhether
inmarbleoroilsorsatinorfilm.”
itgivesmeanidea,adaringidea.ijustneedhelpchoosingtherightone,
andthere’sonlyonepersonwhocanhelpme.iwrestlemyblackberryoutof
mypurseandcalljosé.
“who...?”hemumblessleepily.
“josé,it’sana.”
“ana?doyouha一veanyideawhattimeitis?”hesaysgrumpily.holycrap—i
thoughtihadabetterhandleonthetimezones.
“sorry.”
“whereareyou?youokay?”hesoundsmorealertnow,concerned.
“i’mincannesinthesouthoffrance,andi’mfine.”
“southoffrance,huh?youinsomefancyhotel?”
“um...no.we’restayingonaboat.”
“aboat?”
“abigboat.”iclarify,sighing.
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fiftyshadesfreed
“isee.”histonechills...shit,ishouldnotha一vecalledhim.idon’tneedthis
rightnow.
“josé,ineedyouradvice.”
“myadvice?”hesoundsstunned.“sure,”hesays,andthistimehe’smuch
morefriendly.itellhimmyplan.
twohourslater,taylorhelpsmeoutofthemotorlaunchontothestepsupto
thedeck.gastonishelpingthedeckhandwiththejetski.christianis
nowheretobeseen,andiscurrydowntoourcabintowraphispresent,
feelingachildishsenseofdelight.
“youweregonesometime.”christianstartlesmejustasiamapplyingthe
lastpieceoftape.iturntofindhimstandinginthedoorwaytothecabin,
watchingmeintently.holyshit!amistillintroubleoverthejetski?orisit
thefireathisoffice?
“everythingincontrolatyouroffice?”iasktentatively.
“moreorless,”hesays,anannoyedfrownflittingacrosshisface.
“ididalittleshopping,”imurmur,hopingtolightenhismood,andprayinghis
annoyanceisnotdirectedatme.hesmileswarmly,andiknowwe’reokay.
“whatdidyoubuy?”
“this,”iputmyfootuponthebedandshowhimmyanklechain.
“verynice,”hesays.hestepsovertomeandfondlesthetinybellssothat
theyjinglesweetlyaroundmyankle.hefrownsagainatthemarkleftbythe
cuffsandrunshisfingerslightlyalongtheline,sendingtinglesupmyleg.
“andthis.”iholdoutthebox,hopingtodistracthim.
“forme?”heasksinsurprise.inodshyly.hetakestheboxandshakesit
gently.hegrinshisboyish,dazzlingsmileandsitsdownbesidemeonthe
bed.leaningover,hegraspsmychinandkissesme.
“thankyou,”hesayswithshydelight.
“youha一ven’topenedityet.”
“i’llloveit,whateveritis.”hegazesdownatme,hiseyesglowing.
“idon’tgetmanypresents.”
“it’shardtobuyyouthings.youha一veeverything.”
“iha一veyou.”
“youdo.”igrinathim.oh,yousodo,christian.
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eljames
hemakesshortworkofthewrappingpaper.“anikon?”heglancesupat
me,puzzled.
“iknowyouha一veyourcompactdigitalcamerabutthisisfor...um...
portraitsandthelike.itcomeswithtwolenses.”
heblinksatme,stillnotunderstanding.
“todayinthegalleryyoulikedtheflorenced’ellephotographs.andi
rememberwhatyousaidinthelouvre.andofcourse,therewerethose
otherphotographs.”iswallow,tryingmybestnottorecalltheimagesifound
inhiscloset.
hestopsbreathing,hiseyeswideningasrealizationdawns,andicontinue
hurriedlybeforeilosemynerve.
“ithoughtyoumight,um...liketotakepicturesof...me.”
“pictures.ofyou?”hegapesatmeignoringtheboxonhislap.inod,
desperatelytryingtogaugehisreaction.finallyhegazesbackdownatthe
box,hisfingerstracingovertheillustrationofthecameraonthefrontwith
fascinatedreverence.
whatishethinking?oh,thisisnotthereactioniwasexpecting,andmy
subconsciousglaresatmelikei’madumbdomesticatedfarmanimal.
christianneverreactsthewayiexpect.helooksbackupatme,hiseyes
filledwithwhat,pain?shit...whatnow?
“whydoyouthinkiwantthis?”heasks,bemused.
no,no,no!yousaidyou’dloveit...
“don’tyou?”iask,refusingtoacknowledgemysubconsciouswhois
questioningwhyanyonewouldwanteroticphotographsofme.christian
swallowsandrunsahandthroughhishair,andhelookssolost,soconfused.
hetakesadeepbreath.
“forme,photoslikethoseha一veusuallybeenaninsurancepolicy,ana.i
knowi’veobjectifiedwomenforsolong,”hesaysandpausesawkwardly.
what?wherethefuckisthisgoing?
“andyouthinktakingpicturesofmeis...um,objectifyingme?
oh.”alltheairlea一vesmybody,andtheblooddrainsfrommyface.he
scrunchesuphiseyes.“iamsoconfused,”hewhispers.whenheopenshis
eyesagain,theyarewideandwary,fullofsomerawemotion.
shit.whathasbroughtthison—me?myquestionsearlierabouthisbirth
mom?thefireathisoffice?
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fiftyshadesfreed
“whydoyousaythat?”iwhisper,panicrisinginmythroat.ithoughthewas
happy.ithoughtwewerehappy.ithoughtimadehimhappy.idon’twantto
confusehim.doi?mymindstartsracing.what’sbroughtaboutthissea
change?hehasn’tseenflynninnearlythreeweeks.isthatit?isthatthe
reasonhe’sunra一veling?shit,shouldicallflynn?andinapossiblyunique
momentofextraordinarydepthandclarity,itcomestome—thefire,charlie
tango,thejetski...he’sscared,he’sscaredforme,andseeingthese
marksonmyskinmustbringthathome.he’sbeenfussingaboutthemall
day,confusinghimselfbecausehe’snotusedtofeelinguncomfortableabout
inflictingpain.thethoughtchillsme.
heshrugsandoncemorehiseyesmovedowntomywristwherethebangle
heboughtmethisafternoonusedtobe.bingo!
“christian,thesedon’tmatter.”iholdupmywrist,revealingthefadingwelt.
“youga一vemeasafeword.shit—yesterdaywasfun.ienjoyedit.stop
broodingaboutit—ilikeroughsex,i’vetoldyouthatbefore.”iflushscarletas
itrytoquashmyrisingpanic.hegazesatmeintently,andiha一venoidea
whathe’sthinking.maybehe’smeasuringmywords.istumbleon.
“isthisaboutthefire?doyouthinkit’sconnectedsomehowtocharlie
tango?isthiswhyyou’reworried?talktome,christian—
please.”
hestaresatme,sayingnothingandthesilenceexpandsbetweenusagain
likeitdidthisafternoon.holyfuckingcrap!he’snotgoingtotalktome,i
know.
“don’toverthinkthischristian,”iscoldquietly,andthewordsecho,disturbing
amemoryfromtherecentpast—hiswordstomeabouthisstupidcontract.i
reachover,taketheboxfromhislap,andopenit.hewatchesmepassively
asifi’mafascinatingaliencreature.knowingthatthecameraispreppedby
theoverlyhelpfulsalesmaninthestore,andreadytogo,ifishitoutofthebox
andremovethelenscap.ipointthecameraathimsohisbeautifulanxious
facefillstheframe.ipressthebuttonandkeepitpressed,andtenpicturesof
christian’salarmedexpressionarecaptureddigitallyforposterity.
“i’llobjectifyyouthen,”imurmur,pressingtheshutteragain.onthefinalstill
hislipstwitchalmostimperceptibly.ipressagain,andthistimehesmiles...
asmallsmile,butasmilenevertheless.ihold
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downthebuttononcemoreandseehimphysicallyrelaxinfrontofmeand
pout—afull-on,posed,ridiculous,“bluesteel”pout,anditmakesmegiggle.
oh,thankhea一vens.mr.mercurialisback—andi’veneverbeensopleased
toseehim.
“ithoughtitwasmypresent,”hemutterssulkily,butithinkhe’steasing.
“well,itwassupposedtobefun,butit’sendedupasasymbolofwomen’s
oppression.”isnapaway,takingmorepicturesofhim,andwatchthe
amusementgrowonhisfaceinsuperclose-up.thenhiseyesdarken,and
hisexpressionchangestopredatory.
“youwanttobeoppressed?”hemurmurssilkily.
“notoppressed.no,”imurmurback,snappingagain.
“icouldoppressyoubigtime,mrs.grey,”hethreatens,hisvoicehusky.
“iknowyoucan,mr.grey.andyoudo,frequently.”
heblinksatmeashisfacefalls.shit.ilowerthecameraandstareathim.
“what’swrong,christian?”myvoiceoozesfrustration.tellme!
hesaysnothing.gah!he’ssoinfuriating.iliftthecameratomyeyeagain.
“tellme,”iinsist.
“nothing,”hesaysandabruptlydisappearsfromtheviewfinder.inoneswift,
smoothmove,hereachesover,sweepsthecameraboxontothecabinfloor,
andgrabsme,pushingmedownontothebed.hesitsastrideme.
“hey!”iexclaimandtakemorephotographsofhim,smilingdownatmewith
darkintent.hegrabsthecamerabythelens,andthephotographer
becomesthesubjectashepointsthenikonatmeandpressestheshutter