chapterseven

“youthink?”christianasks,surprised.

“it’sthelineofhisjaw.”ipointatthescreen.“andtheearringsandtheshape

ofhisshoulders.he’stherightbuild,too.hemustbewearingawig—orhe’s

cutanddyedhishair.”

“barney,areyougettingthis?”christianputsthephonedownonhisdesk

andswitchestohands-free.“youseemtoha一vestudiedyourex-bossinsome

detail,mrs.grey,”hemurmurs,soundingnonetoopleased.iscowlathim,

buti’msa一vedbybarney.

“yes,sir.iheardmrs.grey.i’mrunningfacerecognitionsoftwareonallthe

digitizedcctvfootagerightnow.seewhereelsethisasshole—i’msorry

ma’am—thismanhasbeenwithintheorganization.”

iglanceanxiouslyatchristian,whoignoresbarney’sexpletive.he’sstudying

thecctvpictureclosely.

“whywouldhedothis?”iaskchristian.

heshrugs.“revenge,perhaps.idon’tknow.youcan’tfathomwhysome

peoplebeha一vethewaytheydo.i’mjustangrythatyoueverworkedso

closelywithhim.”christian’smouthpressesintoahard,thinlineandhisarm

encirclesmywaistprotectively.

“weha一vethecontentsofhisharddrive,too,sir,”barneyadds.what?

“yes,iremember.doyouha一veanaddressformr.hyde?”

christiansayssharply.

“yes,sir,ido.”

“alertwelch.”

“surewill.i’malsogoingtoscanthecitycctvandseeificantrackhis

movements.”

“checkwhatvehicleheowns.”

“sir.”

“barneycandoallthis?”iwhisper.

christiannodsandgivesmeasmugsmile.

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fiftyshadesfreed

“whatwasonhisharddrive?”iwhisper.

christian’sfacehardensandheshakeshishead.“nothingmuch,”

hesays,tight-lipped,hissmileforgotten.

“tellme.”

“no.”

“wasitaboutyou,orme?”

“me.”hesighs.

“whatsortofthings?aboutyourlifestyle?”

christianshakeshisheadandputshisindexfingeragainstmylipstosilence

me.iscowlathim.buthenarrowshiseyes,andit’saclearwarningthati

shouldholdmytongue.

“it’sa2006camaro.i’llsendthelicensedetailstowelch,too,”

barneysaysexcitedlyfromthephone.

“good.letmeknowwhereelsethatfuckerhasbeeninmybuilding.and

checkthisimageagainsttheonefromhissippersonnelfile.”christian

gazesatmeskeptically.“iwanttobesureweha一veamatch.”

“alreadydone,sir,andmrs.greyiscorrect.thisisjackhyde.”

igrin.see?icanbeuseful.christianrubshishanddownmyback.

“welldone,mrs.grey.”hesmilesandhisearlierrancorforgotten.tobarney

hesays,“letmeknowwhenyou’vetrackedallhismovementsathq.also

checkoutanyothergehpropertyhemayha一vehadaccessto,andletthe

securityteamsknowsotheycanmakeanothersweepofallthosebuildings.”

“sir.”

“thanks,barney.”christianhangsup.

“well,mrs.grey,itseemsthatyouarenotonlydecorative,butuseful,too.”

christian’seyeslightupwithwickedamusement.iknowhe’steasing.

“decorative?”iscoff,teasinghimback.

“very,”hesaysquietly,pressingasoft,sweetkissonmylips.

“you’remuchmoredecorativethaniam,mr.grey.”

hegrinsandkissesmemoreforcefully,windingmybraidaroundhiswrist

andwrappinghisarmsaroundme.whenwecomeupforair,weareboth

breathless.

“hungry?”heasks.

“no.”

118|page

eljames

“iam.”

“whatfor?”

heblinksdownatme.“well—foodactually,mrs.grey.”

“i’llmakeyousomething.”igiggle.

“ilovethatsound.”

“ofmeofferingyoufood?”

“yougiggling.”hekissesmyhairthenistand.

“sowhatwouldyouliketoeat,sir?”iasksweetly.henarrowshiseyes.“are

youbeingcute,mrs.grey?”

“always,mr.grey...sir.”

hesmilesasphinxlikesmile.“icanstillputyouovermyknee,”hemurmurs

seductively.

“iknow.”igrindownathim.placingmyhandsonthearmsofhisofficechair,

ileandownandkisshim.“that’soneofthethingsiloveaboutyou.butstow

yourtwitchingpalm—you’rehungry.”

hesmileshisshysmileandmyheartclenches.“oh,mrs.grey,whatami

goingtodowithyou?”

“you’regoingtoanswermyquestion.whatwouldyouliketoeat?”

“somethinglight.surpriseme,”hesays,mirroringmywordsfromthe

playroomearlier.

“i’llseewhaticando.”isashayoutofhisstudyandintothekitchen.myheart

sinkswheniseemrs.jonesisthere.

“hello,mrs.jones.”

“mrs.grey.areyoureadyforsomethingtoeat?”

“um...”

sheisstirringsomethinginapotonthestovethatsmellsdelicious.

“iwasgoingtomakesubsformr.greyandme.”

shepausesforaheartbeat.“sure,”shesays.“mr.greylikesfrenchbread

—thereissomeinthefreezercuttosublength.i’dbehappytomakeitfor

you,ma’am.”

“iknow.buti’dliketodothis.”

“iunderstand.i’llgiveyousomeroom.”

“whatareyoucooking?”

“thisisabolognaisesauce.itcanbeeatenanytime.i’llfreezeit.”

shesmileswarmlyandturnstheheatrightdown.

“um—sowhatdoeschristianlikeina,um...sub?”ifrown,struckbywhat

i’vejustsaid.doesmrs.jonesunderstandtheinference?

119|page

fiftyshadesfreed

“mrs.grey,youcouldputjustaboutanythinginasandwich,andaslongas

it’sinfrenchbread,he’lleatit.”wegrinateachother.

“okay,thankyou.”iskiptothefridge.inthefreezercompartmentifindthe

frenchbreadcuttosizeinziplockbags.takingouttwo,iplacethemona

plate,popthemintothemicrowa一veandsetittodefrost.

mrs.joneshasdisappeared.ifrownasireturntothefridgetosearchfor

ingredients.isupposeitwillbeuptometosettheparametersbywhichmrs.

jonesandiwillworktogether.iliketheideaofcookingforchristianonthe

weekends.mrs.jonesismorethanwelcometodoitduringtheweek—the

lastthingi’llwanttodowhenicomehomefromworkiscook.hmm...abit

likechristian’sroutinewithhissubmissives.ishakemyhead.imustn’t

overthinkthis.ifindsomehaminthefridge,andinthecrisperaperfectlyripe

a一vocado.asiamaddingatouchofsaltandlemontothemasheda一vocado,

christianemergesfromhisstudywiththeplansforthenewhouseinhis

hands.heputsthemonthebreakfastbar,saunterstowardme,andwraps

hisarmsaroundme,kissingmyneck.

“barefootandinthekitchen,”hemurmurs.

“shouldn’tthatbebarefootandpregnantinthekitchen?”ismirk.hestills,his

wholebodytensingagainstme.“notyet,”hedeclares,apprehensionclearin

hisvoice.

“no!notyet!”

herelaxes.“onthatwecanagree,mrs.grey.”

“youdowantkidsthough,don’tyou?”

“sure,yes.eventually.buti’mnotreadytoshareyouyet.”hekissesmyneck

again.

oh...share?

“whatareyoumaking?looksgood.”hekissesmebehindmyear,andi

knowit’stodistractme.adelicioustingletra一velsdownmyspine.

“subs.”ismirk,recoveringmysenseofhumor.

hesmilesagainstmyneckandnipsmyearlobe.“myfa一vorite.”

ipokehimwithmyelbow.

“mrs.grey,youwoundme.”heclutcheshissideasifinpain.

“wimp,”imutterdisapprovingly.

120|page

eljames

“wimp?”heuttersindisbelief.heslapsmybehind,makingmeyelp.“hurry

upwithmyfood,wench.andlateri’llshowyouhowwimpyicanbe.”heslaps

meplayfullyoncemoreandgoestothefridge.

“wouldyoulikeaglassofwine?”heasks.

“please.”

christianspreadsgia’splansoutoverthebreakfastbar.shereallyhas

somespectacularideas.

“iloveherproposaltomaketheentiredownstairsbackwallglass,but...”

“but?”christianprompts.

isigh.“idon’twanttotakeallthecharacteroutofthehouse.”

“character?”

“yes.whatgiaisproposingisquiteradical,but...well...ifellinlovewith

thehouseasitis...wartsandall.”

christian’sbrowfurrowsasifthisisanathematohim.

“ikindoflikeitthewayitis,”iwhisper.isthisgoingtomakehimmad?

heregardsmesteadily.“iwantthishousetobethewayyouwant.whatever

youwant.it’syours.”

“iwantyoutolikeit,too.tobehappyinit,too.”

“i’llbehappywhereveryouare.it’sthatsimple,ana.”hisgazeholdsmine.

heisutterly,utterlysincere.iblinkathimasmyheartexpands.holycow,he

reallydoesloveme.

“well”—iswallow,fightingthesmallknotofemotionthatcatchesinmythroat

—“iliketheglasswall.maybewecouldaskhertoincorporateitintothe

housealittlemoresympathetically.”

christiangrins.“sure.whateveryouwant.whatabouttheplansforupstairs

andthebasement?”

“i’mcoolwiththose.”

“good.”

okay...isteelmyselftoaskthemillion-dollarquestion.“doyouwanttoput

inaplayroom?”ifeeltheoh-so-familiarflushcreepupmyfaceasiask.

christian’seyebrowsshootup.

“doyou?”hereplies,surprisedandamusedatonce.121|page

fiftyshadesfreed

ishrug.“um...ifyouwant.”

heregardsmeforamoment.“let’slea一veouroptionsopenforthemoment.

afterall,thiswillbeafamilyhome.”

i’msurprisedbythestabofdisappointmentifeel.iguesshe’sright...

althoughwhenarewegoingtoha一veafamily?itcouldbeyears.

“besides,wecanimprovise.”hesmirks.

“ilikeimprovising,”iwhisper.

hegrins.“there’ssomethingiwanttodiscuss.”christianpointstothe

masterbedroom,andwestartadetaileddiscussiononbathroomsand

separatewalk-inclosets.

whenwefinish,it’sninethirtyintheevening.

“areyougoingbacktowork?”iaskaschristianrollsuptheplans.

“notifyoudon’twantmeto.”hesmiles.“whatwouldyouliketodo?”

“wecouldwatchtv.”idon’twanttoread,andidon’twanttogotobed...

yet.

“okay,”christianagreeswillingly,andifollowhimintothetv

room.

weha一vesatherethree,maybefourtimestotal,andchristianusuallyreadsa

book.he’snotinterestedintelevisionatall.icurlupbesidehimonthe

couch,tuckingmylegsbeneathmeandrestingmyheadagainsthis

shoulder.heswitchesontheflatscreenwiththeremoteandflicksmindlessly

throughthechannels.

“anyspecificdrivelyouwanttosee?”

“youdon’tliketvmuch,doyou?”imuttersardonically.heshakeshishead.

“wasteoftime.buti’llwatchsomethingwithyou.”

“ithoughtwecouldmakeout.”

hewhipshisfacetomine.“makeout?”hegazesatmeasifi’vegrowntwo

heads.hestopstheendlessflicking,lea一vingthetvonanoverlitspanish

soapopera.

“yes.”whyishesohorrified?

“wecouldgotobedandmakeout.”

122|page

eljames

“wedothatallthetime.whenwasthelasttimeyoumadeoutinfrontofthe

tv?”iask,shyandteasingatthesametime.heshrugsandshakeshis

head.pressingtheremoteagainheflicksthroughanotherfewchannels

beforesettlingonanoldepisodeofthex-files.

“christian?”

“i’veneverdonethat,”hesaysquietly.

oh!“never?”

“no.”

“notevenwithmrs.robinson?”

hesnorts.“baby,ididalotofthingswithmrs.robinson.makingoutwasnot

oneofthem.”hesmirksatmeandthennarrowshiseyeswithamused

curiosity.“ha一veyou?”

iflush.“ofcourse.”wellkindof...

“what!whowith?”

ohno.idonotwanttoha一vethisdiscussion.

“tellme,”hepersists.

igazedownatmyknottedfingers.hegentlycoversmyhandswithoneofhis.

wheniglanceupathim,he’ssmilingatme.

“iwanttoknow.soicanbeatwhoeveritwastoapulp.”

igiggle.“well,thefirsttime...”

“thefirsttime!there’smorethanonefucker?”hegrowls.igiggleagain.

“whysosurprised,mr.grey?”

hefrownsbriefly,runsahandthroughhishair,andlooksatmeasifseeing

meinacompletelydifferentlight.heshrugs.“ijustam.imean—givenyour

lackofexperience.”

iflush.“i’vecertainlymadeupforthatsinceimetyou.”

“youha一ve.”hegrins.“tellme.iwanttoknow.”

igazeintopatientgrayeyes,tryingtogaugehismood.isthisgoingtomake

himmad,ordoeshegenuinelywanttoknow?idon’twanthimsulking...

he’simpossiblewhenhe’ssulking.

“youreallywantmetotellyou?”

henodsslowlyonce,andhislipstwitchwithanamused,arrogantsmile.

“iwasbrieflyinvegaswithmomandhusbandnumberthree.iwasintenth

grade.hisnamewasbradley,andhewasmylabpartnerinphysics.”

123|page

fiftyshadesfreed

“howoldwereyou?”

“fifteen.”

“andwhat’shedoingnow?”

“idon’tknow.”

“whatbasedidhegetto?”

“christian!”iscold—andsuddenlyhegrabsmyknees,thenmyankles,and

tipsmeupsoifallbackontothecouch.heslidessmoothlyontopofme,

trappingmebeneathhim,onelegbetweenmine.it’ssosuddenthaticryout

insurprise.hegrabsmyhandsandraisesthemabovemyhead.

“so,thisbradley—didhegettofirstbase?”hemurmurs,runninghisnose

downthelengthofmine.heplantssoftkissesatthecornerofmymouth.

“yes,”imurmuragainsthislips.hereleasesoneofhishandssothathecan

claspmychinandholdmestillwhilehistongueinvadesmymouth,andi

surrendertohisardentkissing.

“likethis?”christianbreatheswhenhecomesupforair.

“no...nothinglikethat,”imanage,asallthebloodinmybodyheadssouth.

releasingmychin,herunshishanddownovermybodyandbackuptomy

breast.

“didhedothis?touchyoulikethis?”histhumbskimsovermynipple,

throughmycamisole,softly,repeatedly,andithardensunderhisexpert

touch.

“no.”iwrithebeneathhim.

“didhegettosecondbase?”hemurmursinmyear.hishandmovesdown

acrossmyribs,pastmywaisttomyhip.hetakesmyearlobebetweenhis

teethandgentlytugs.

“no,”ibreathe.

mulderblurtsfromthetelevisionsomethingaboutthefbi’smostunwanted.

christianpauses,leansup,andpressesmuteontheremote.hegazes

downatme.

“whataboutjoeschmonumbertwo?didhemakeitpastsecondbase?”

124|page

eljames

hiseyesaresmolderinghot...angry?turnedon?it’sdifficulttosaywhich.

heshiftstomysideandslideshishandbeneathmysweatpants.

“no...,”iwhispergazingupathim,trappedinhiscarnalgaze.christian

smiles,wickedly.

“good.”hishandcupsmysex.“nounderwear,mrs.grey.iapprove.”he

kissesmeagainashisfingerswea一vemoremagic,histhumbskimmingover

myclitoris,tantalizingme,ashepusheshisindexfingerinsidemewith

exquisiteslowness.

“we’resupposedtobemakingout.”igroan.

christianstills.“ithoughtwewere?”

“no.nosex.”

“what?”

“nosex...”

“nosex,huh?”hewithdrawshishandfrommysweatpants.

“here.”hetracesmylipswithhisindexfinger,anditastemyslicksaltiness.

hepusheshisfingerintomymouth,mirroringwhathewasdoingamoment

earlier.thenshiftssohe’sbetweenmylegs,andhiserectionpushesagainst

me.hethrusts,once,twice,andagain.igasp,asthematerialofmy

sweatpantsrubsinjusttherightway.hepushesoncemore,grindinginto

me.

“thiswhatyouwant?”hemurmursandmoveshishipsrhythmically,rocking

againstme.

“yes.”imoan.

hishandmovesbacktoconcentrateonmynippleoncemoreandhisteeth

scrapealongmyjaw.“doyouknowhowhotyouare,ana?”

hisvoiceishoarseasherocksharderagainstme.iopenmymouthto

articulatearesponseandfailmiserably,groaningloudly.hecapturesmy

mouthoncemore,tuggingatmybottomlipwithhisteethbeforeplunginghis

tongueintomymouthagain.hereleasesmyotherwristandmyhandstra一vel

greedilyuphisshouldersandintohishairashekissesme.whenipullon

hishair,hegroansandraiseshiseyestomine.

“ah...”

“doyoulikemetouchingyou?”iwhisper.

hisbrowfurrowsbrieflyasifhedoesn’tunderstandthequestion.hestops

grindingagainstme.“ofcourseido.iloveyoutouchingme,125|page

fiftyshadesfreed

ana.i’mlikeastarvingmanatabanquetwhenitcomestoyourtouch.”his

voicehumswithpassionatesincerity.

holycow...

hekneelsbetweenmylegsanddragsmeuptohauloffmytop.i’mnaked

beneath.grabbingthehemofhisshirt,heyanksitoverhisheadandtosses

itonthefloor,thenpullsmeontohiskneelinglap,hisarmsclaspedjust

abovemybehind.

“touchme,”hebreathes.

ohmy...tentativelyireachupandbrushthetipsofmyfingersthroughthe

smatteringofchesthairoverhissternum,overhisburnscars.heinhales

sharplyandhispupilsdilate,butit’snotwithfear.it’sasensualresponseto

mytouch.hewatchesmeintentlyasmyfingersfloatdelicatelyoverhisskin,

firsttoonenippleandthentheother.theypuckerbeneathmycaress.

leaningforward,iplantsoftkissesonhischest,andmyhandsmovetohis

shoulders,feelingthehard,sculpturedlinesofsinewandmuscle.jeez...

he’singoodshape.

“iwantyou,”hemurmursandit’sagreenlighttomylibido.myfingersmove

intohishair,pullinghisheadbacksoicanclaimhismouth,firelickinghot

andhighinmybelly.hegroansandpushesmebackontothecouch.hesits

upandripsoffmysweatpants,undoinghisflyatthesametime.

“homerun,”hewhispers,andinoneswiftmovehe’sinsideme.

“ah...”igroanandhestills,grabbingmyfacebetweenhishands.

“iloveyou,mrs.grey,”hemurmursandveryslowly,verygently,hemakes

lovetome...untilicomeapartattheseams,callinghisnameandwrapping

myselfaroundhim,neverwantingtolethimgo.

ilaysprawledonhischest.we’reonthefloorofthetvroom.

“youknow,wecompletelybypassedthirdbase.”myfingerstracethelineof

hispectoralmuscles.

helaughs.“nexttime,mrs.grey.”hekissesthetopofmyhead.ilookupto

stareatthetvscreenwheretheendcreditsforthex-filesplay.christian

reachesfortheremoteandswitchesthesoundbackon.

“youlikedthatshow?”iask.

“wheniwasakid.”

126|page

eljames

oh...christianasakid...kickboxingandxfilesandnotouching.

“you?”heasks.

“beforemytime.”

christiansmilesfondlyupatme.“you’resoyoung.ilikemakingoutwithyou,

mrs.grey.”

“likewise,mr.grey.”ikisshischest,andweliesilentlywatchingasthexfiles

finishandthecommercialscomeon.

“it’sbeenahea一venlythreeweeks.carchasesandfiresandpsychoexbosses

notwithstanding.likebeinginourownprivatebubble,”imutter

dreamily.

“hmm,”christianhumsdeepinhisthroat.“i’mnotsurei’mreadytoshare

youwiththerestoftheworldyet.”

“backtorealitytomorrow,”imurmur,tryingtokeepthemelancholyfrommy

voice.

christiansighsandrunsthehandthatisnotholdingmethroughhishair.

“securitywillbetight—”iputmyfingeroverhislips.idon’twanttohearthis

lectureagain.

“iknow.i’llbegood.ipromise.”whichremindsme...ishift,proppingmyself

uponmyelbowstoseehimbetter.“whywereyoushoutingatsawyer?”

hestiffensimmediately.ohshit.

“becausewewerefollowed.”

“thatwasn’tsawyer’sfault.”

hegazesatmelevelly.“theyshouldneverha一veletyougetsofarinfront.

theyknowthat.”

iflushguiltilyandresumemyposition,restingonhischest.itwasmyfault.i

wantedtogetawayfromthem.

“thatwasn’t—”

“enough!”christianissuddenlycurt.“thisisnotupfordiscussion,

anastasia.it’safact,andtheywon’tletithappenagain.”

anastasia!iamanastasiawheniamintroublejustlikeathomewithmy

mother.

“okay,”imutter,placatinghim.idon’twanttofight.“didryancatchupwith

thewomaninthedodge?”

“no.andi’mnotconvinceditwasawoman.”

“oh?”ilookupagain.

127|page

fiftyshadesfreed

“sawyersawsomeonewiththeirhairtiedback,butitwasabrieflook.he

assumeditwasawoman.now,giventhatyou’veidentifiedthatfucker,

maybeitwashim.heworehishairlikethat.”thedisgustinchristian’svoice

ispalpable.

idon’tknowwhattomakeofthisnews.christianrunshishanddownmy

nakedback,distractingme.

“ifanythinghappenedtoyou...,”hemurmurs,hiseyeswideandserious.

“iknow,”iwhisper.ifeelthesameaboutyou.”ishiveratthethought.

“come.you’regettingcold,”hesays,sittingup.“let’sgotobed.wecan

coverthirdbasethere.”hesmilesalascivioussmile,asmercurialasever,

passionate,angry,anxious,sexy—myfiftyshades.itakehishandandhe

pullsmetomyfeet,andwithoutastitchon,ifollowhimthroughthegreat

roomtothebedroom.

thefollowingmorning,christiansqueezesmyhandaswepullupoutside

sip.helooksverymuchthepowerfulexecutiveinhisdarkna一vysuitand

matchingtie,andismile.he’snotbeenthissmartsincetheballetin

monaco.

“youknowyoudon’tha一vetodothis?”christianmurmurs.iamtemptedtoroll

myeyesathim.

“iknow,”iwhisper,notwantingtobeoverheardbysawyerandryaninthe

frontoftheaudi.hefrownsandismile.

“butiwantto,”icontinue.“youknowthis.”ileanupandkisshim.hisfrown

doesn’tdisappear.“what’swrong?”

heglancesuncertainlyatryanassawyerclimbsoutofthecar.“i’llmiss

ha一vingyoutomyself.”

ireachuptocaresshisface.“me,too.”ikisshim.“itwasawonderful

honeymoon.thankyou.”

“gotowork,mrs.grey.”

“you,too,mr.grey.”

sawyeropensthedoor.isqueezechristian’shandoncemorebeforeiclimb

outontothesidewalk.asiheadintothebuilding,igivehimalittlewa一ve.

outontothesidewalk.asiheadintothebuilding,igivehimalittlewa一ve.

sawyerholdsopenthedoorandfollowsmein.

“hi,ana.”clairebeamsfrombehindthereceptiondesk.128|page

eljames

“claire,hello.”ismileback.

“youlookwonderful.goodhoneymoon?”

“thebest,thankyou.how’sitbeenhere?”

“oldmanroachisthesame,butsecurityhasbeensteppedupandour

serverroomisbeingoverhauled.buthannahwilltellyou.”

sureshewill.igiveclaireafriendlysmileandheadtomyoffice.hannahis

myassistant.sheistall,slim,andruthlesslyefficienttothepointthat

sometimesifindheralittleintimidating.butshe’ssweettome,inspiteofthe

factthatshe’sacoupleofyearsolder.shehasmylattewaiting—theonly

coffeeilethergetforme.

“hi,hannah,”isaywarmly.

“ana,howwasyourhoneymoon?”

“fantastic.here—foryou.”ipopthesmallbottleofperfumeiboughtforher

ontoherdesk,andsheclapsherhandswithglee.

“oh,thankyou!”shesaysenthusiastically.“yoururgentcorrespondenceison

yourdesk,androachwouldliketoseeyouatten.that’salliha一vetoreport

fornow.”

“good.thankyou.andthanksforthecoffee.”wanderingintomyoffice,irest

mybriefcaseonmydeskandgazeatthepiledupletters.jeez,iha一vealotto

do.

justbeforetenthere’satimidtaponmydoor.

“comein.”

elizabethlooksaroundthedoor.“hi,ana.ijustwantedtosaywelcome

back.”

“hey.iha一vetosay,readingthroughallthiscorrespondence,iwishiwas

backinthesouthoffrance.”

elizabethlaughs,butherlaughterisoff,forced,andicockmyheadtoone

sideandgazeatherlikechristiandoestome.

“gladyou’rebacksafely,”shesays.“i’llseeyouinafewminutes,atthe

meetingwithroach.”

“okay,”imurmur,andsheshutsthedoorbehindher.ifrownattheclosed

door.whatwasthatabout?ishrugitoff.mye-mailpings—it’samessage

fromchristian.

129|page

fiftyshadesfreed

from:christiangrey

subject:errantwives

date:august22,201109:56??

to:anastasiasteele

wife

isentthee-mailbelowanditbounced.

andit’sbecauseyouha一ven’tchangedyourname.

somethingyouwanttotellme?

christiangrey

ceo,greyenterprisesholdingsinc.

attachment:

from:christiangrey

fwsubject:bubble

date:august22,201109:32??

to:anastasiagrey

mrs.grey

lovecoveringallthebaseswithyou.

ha一veagreatfirstdayback.

missourbubblealready.

x

christiangrey

backintherealworldceo,greyenterprisesholdingsinc.

shit.ihitreplyimmediately.

from:anastasiasteele

subject:don’tburstthebubble

date:august22,201109:58

130|page

eljames

to:christiangrey

husband

iamallforabaseballmetaphorwithyou,mr.grey.iwanttokeepmyname

here.

i’lexplainthisevening.

iamgoingintoameetingnow.

missourbubble,too...

ps:thoughtihadtousemyblackberry?

anastasiasteele

commissioningeditor,sip

thisisgoingtobesuchafight.icanfeelit.sighing,igatherupmypapers

forthemeeting.

themeetinglastsfortwohours.allthecommissioningeditorsarethere,plus

roachandelizabeth.wediscusspersonnel,strategy,marketing,security,

andyear-end.asthemeetingprogressesigrowmoreandmore

uncomfortable.there’sasub一tlechangeinhowmycolleaguesaretreating

me—adistanceanddeferencethatwasn’ttherebeforeileftformy

honeymoon.andfromcourtney,whoheadsupthenon-fictionpision,

there’sdownrighthostility.maybei’mjustbeingparanoidbutitgoessome

waytoexplainingelizabeth’soddgreetingthismorning.

myminddriftsbacktotheyacht,thentotheplayroom,thentother8

speedingawayfromthemysterydodgeoni-5.perhapschristian’sright...

perhapsican’tdothisanymore.thethoughtisdepressing—

thisisalli’veeverwantedtodo.ifican’tdothis,whatwillido?asiwalk

backtomyoffice,itrytodismissthesedarkthoughts.whenisitdownatmy

deskiquicklycheckmye-mails.nothingfromchristian.icheckmy

blackberry...stillnothing.good.atleastthere’sbeennoadversereaction

tomye-mail.perhapswe’lldiscussthistonightaspermyrequest.ifindthat

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