Chapter Thirteen
We land smoothly at Sardy Field at 12:25 p.m. (MST). Stephan brings the
plane to a halt a little way from the main terminal, and through the windows I
spot a large VW minivan waiting for us.
“Good landing.” Christian grins and shakes Stephan’s hand as we get ready
to file out of the jet.
“It’s all about the density altitude, sir.” Stephan smiles back.
“Beighley here is good at math.”
Christian nods at Stephan’s first officer. “You nailed it, Beighley, smooth
landing.”
“Thank you, sir.” She grins smugly.
“Enjoy your weekend, Mr. Grey, Mrs. Grey. We’ll see you tomorrow.” Stephan
steps aside to let us disembark and taking my hand, Christian leads me
down the aircraft steps to where Taylor is waiting by the vehicle.
“Minivan?” says Christian in surprise as Taylor slides open the door.
Taylor gives him a tight, contrite smile and a slight shrug.
“Last minute, I know,” Christian says, immediately placated. Taylor returns to
the plane to retrieve our luggage.
“Want to make out in the back of the van?” Christian murmurs to me, a
mischievous gleam in his eye.
I giggle. Who is this man, and what has he done with Mr. Unbelievably Angry
of the last couple of days?
“Come on, you two. Get in,” Mia says from behind us, oozing impatience
beside Ethan. We climb in, stagger to the double seat at the back, and sit
down. I snuggle against Christian, and he puts his arm around the back of my
seat. “Comfortable?” he murmurs as Mia and Ethan take the seat in front of
us.
“Yes.” I smile and he kisses my forehead. And for some unfathomable
reason I feel shy with him today. Why? Last night? Being with company? I
can’t put my finger on it.
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Elliot and Kate join us last as Taylor opens the liftgate to load the luggage.
Five minutes later, we are on our way.
I gaze out the window as we head toward Aspen. The trees are green, but a
whisper of the coming fall is evident here and there in the yellowing tips of the
lea一ves. The sky is a clear crystal blue, though there are darkening clouds to
the west. All around us in the distance loom the Rockies, the highest peak
directly ahead. They’re lush and green, and the highest are capped with
snow and look like a child’s drawing of mountains.
We’re in the winter playground of the rich and famous. And I own a house
here. I can barely believe it. And from deep within my psyche, the familiar
unease that’s always present when I try to wrap my head around Christian’s
wealth looms and taunts me, making me feel guilty. What ha一ve I done to
deserve this lifestyle . . . ? I’ve done nothing; nothing, except fall in love.
“Ha一ve you been to Aspen before, Ana?” Ethan turns and asks dragging me
out of my reverie.
“No, first time. You?”
“Kate and I used to come here a lot when we were teens. Dad’s a keen
skier. Mom less so.”
“I’m hoping my husband will teach me how to ski.” I glance up at my man.
“Don’t bet on it,” Christian mutters.
“I won’t be that bad!”
“You might break your neck.” His grin gone.
Oh. I don’t want to argue and sour his good mood, so I change the subject.
“How long ha一ve you had this place?”
“Nearly two years. It’s yours now, too, Mrs. Grey,” he says softly.
“I know,” I whisper. But somehow I don’t feel the courage of my convictions.
Leaning up, I kiss his jaw and nestle once more at his side listening to him
laugh and joke with Ethan and Elliot. Mia chimes in occasionally, but Kate is
quiet, and I wonder if she’s brooding about Jack Hyde—or something else.
Then I remember. Aspen . . . Christian’s house here was redesigned—or
rebuilt, I can’t remember which—by Gia Matteo. I wonder if that’s what’s
preoccupying Kate. I can’t ask her in front of Elliot, given his history with Gia.
Does Kate even know about Gia’s connection to the house? I frown
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what could be bothering her and resolve to ask her when we’re on our own.
We drive through the center of Aspen and my mood brightens as I take in the
town. There are squat buildings of mostly red brick, Swissstyle chalets, and
numerous little turn of the century houses painted in fun colors. Plenty of
banks and designer shops, too, betraying the affluence of the local populace.
Of course Christian fits in here.
“Why did you choose Aspen?” I ask him.
“What?” He regards me quizzically.
“To buy a place.”
“Mom and Dad used to bring us here when we were kids. I learned to ski
here, and I like the place. I hope you do, too—otherwise we’ll sell the house
and choose somewhere else.”
Oh! Simple as that. He tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear.
“You look lovely today,” he murmurs.
My cheeks heat. I’m just wearing my tra一velling gear; jeans and a Tshirt with a
lightweight na一vy blue jacket. Damn it? Why does he make me feel shy?
He leans down and kisses me, a tender, sweet, loving kiss. Taylor drives us
on out of town, and we start to climb the other side of the valley, twisting
along a mountain road. The higher we go, the more excited I get, and
Christian tenses beside me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as we round a bend.
“I hope you like it,” he says quietly. “We’re here.”
Taylor slows and turns through a gateway made of gray, beige, and red
stones. He heads down the driveway and finally pulls up outside the
impressive house. Double fronted with high-pitched roofs and built of dark
wood and the same mixed stone as the gateway—it’s stunning. Modern and
stark, very much Christian’s style.
“Home,” he mouths at me as our guests start piling out of the van.
“Looks good.”
“Come. See,” he says, an excited, though anxious, gleam in his eyes—like
he’s about to show me his science project, or something. Mia runs up the
steps to where a woman stands in the doorway. She’s tiny and her ra一vencolored
hair is dusted with gray. Mia flings her arms around her neck and
hugs her tightly.
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“Who’s that?” I ask as Christian helps me out of the van.
“Mrs. Bentley. She lives here with her husband. They look after the place.”
Holy cow . . . more staff?
Mia is making introductions—Ethan, then Kate. Elliot, too, hugs Mrs. Bentley.
As Taylor unloads the van, Christian takes my hand and leads me to the front
door.
“Welcome back, Mr. Grey.” Mrs. Bentley smiles.
“Carmella, this is my wife, Anastasia,” Christian says proudly. His tongue
caresses my name, making my heart stutter.
“Mrs. Grey,” Mrs. Bentley nods a respectful greeting. I hold out my hand and
we shake. It’s no surprise to me that she’s much more formal with Christian
than the rest of the family.
“I hope you’ve had a pleasant flight. The weather is supposed to be fine all
weekend, though I’m not sure.” She eyes the graying clouds behind us.
“Lunch is ready whenever you want.” She smiles again, her dark eyes
twinkling, and I warm to her immediately.
“Here.” Christian grabs me and lifts me off my feet.
“What are you doing?” I squeal.
“Carrying you over yet another threshold, Mrs. Grey.”
I grin at him as he carries me into the wide hallway, and after a brief kiss, he
sets me gently down onto the hardwood floor. The interior décor is stark and
reminds me of the great room at Escala—all white walls, dark wood, and
contemporary abstract art. The hallway opens up into a large sitting area
where three off-white leather couches surround a stone fireplace that
dominates the room. The only color is from the soft cushions scattered on the
couches. Mia grabs Ethan’s hand and drags him farther into the house.
Christian narrows his eyes at their departing figures, his mouth thinning. He
shakes his head then turns to me.
Kate whistles loudly. “Nice place.”
I glance around to see Elliot helping Taylor with our luggage. I wonder again
if she knows that Gia had a hand in this place.
“Tour?” Christian asks me, and whatever was going through his mind about
Mia and Ethan has gone. He’s radiating excitement—or is it anxiety? It’s
difficult to tell.
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“Sure.” Once again I’m overwhelmed by the wealth. How much did this place
cost . . . ? And I ha一ve contributed nothing to it. Briefly I’m transported back to
the first time Christian took me to Escala . . . I was overwhelmed then. You
got used to it, my subconscious hisses at me. Christian frowns but takes my
hand, leading me through the various rooms. The state-of-the-art kitchen is
all pale marble countertops and black cupboards. There’s an impressive
wine cellar, and an expansive den downstairs, complete with large plasma
screen, soft couches . . . and a billiard table. I gape at it, and blush when
Christian catches me.
“Fancy a game?” he asks, a wicked gleam in his eye. I shake my head, and
his brow furrows once more. Taking my hand again, he leads me up to the
first floor. There are four bedrooms upstairs, each with an en suite bathroom.
The master suite is something else—the bed is huge, bigger than the bed at
home, and faces an enormous picture window looking out over Aspen and
toward the verdant mountains.
“That’s Ajax Mountain . . . or Aspen Mountain, if you like,”
Christian says, eyeing me warily. He’s standing in the doorway, his thumbs
hooked through the belt loops on his black jeans. I nod.
“You’re very quiet,” he murmurs.
“It’s lovely, Christian.” And suddenly I’m aching to be back at Escala.
In five long strides he’s standing in front of me, reaching up and tugging at my
chin, releasing my lower lip from the grip of my teeth.
“What is it?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.
“You’re very rich.”
“Yes.”
“Sometimes, it just takes me by surprise, how wealthy you are.”
“We are.”
“We are,” I mutter automatically.
“Don’t stress about this, Ana, please. It’s just a house.”
“And what did Gia do here, exactly?”
“Gia?” He raises his eyebrows in surprise.
“Yes. She remodeled this place?”
“She did. She put the den in downstairs.” He rakes his hand through his hair
and frowns at me. “Why are we talking about Gia?”
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“Did you know she had a fling with Elliot?”
Christian gazes at me for a moment, gray eyes unreadable. “Elliot’s fucked
most of Seattle, Ana.”
I gasp.
“Mainly women, I understand,” Christian jokes. I think he’s amused by my
expression.
“No!”
Christian nods. “It’s none of my business.” He holds his palms up.
“I don’t think Kate knows.”
“I’m not sure he broadcasts that information. Kate seems to be holding her
own.”
I’m shocked. Sweet, unassuming, blond, blue-eyed Elliot? I stare in disbelief.
Christian tilts his head to one side, scrutinizing me. “This can’t just be about
Gia or Elliot’s promiscuity.”
“I know. I’m sorry. After all that’s happened this week, it’s just . . .”
I shrug, feeling tearful all of a sudden. Christian seems to sag with relief.
Pulling me into his arms, he holds me tightly, his nose in my hair.
“I know. I’m sorry, too. Let’s relax and enjoy ourselves, okay? You can stay
here and read, watch god-awful TV, shop, come hiking—
fishing even. Whatever you want to do. And forget what I said about Elliot.
That was indiscreet of me.”
“Goes some way to explain why he’s always teasing you,” I murmur, nuzzling
his chest.
“He really has no idea about my past. I told you, my family assumed I was
gay. Celibate, but gay.”
I giggle and begin to relax in his arms. “I thought you were celibate. How
wrong I was.” I wrap my arms around him, marveling at the ridiculousness of
Christian being gay.
“Mrs. Grey, are you smirking at me?”
“Maybe a little,” I acquiesce. “You know, what I don’t understand is why you
ha一ve this place?”
“What do you mean?” He kisses my hair.
“You ha一ve the boat, which I get, you ha一ve the place in New York for business
—but why here? It’s not like you shared it with anyone.”
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Christian stills, and is silent for several beats. “I was waiting for you,” he says
softly, his eyes dark gray and luminous.
“That’s . . . that’s such a lovely thing to say.”
“It’s true. I didn’t know it at the time.” He smiles his shy smile.
“I’m glad you waited.”
“You are worth waiting for, Mrs. Grey.” He tips my chin up with his finger,
leans down, and kisses me tenderly.
“So are you.” I smile. “Though I feel I like I cheated. I didn’t ha一ve to wait long
for you at all.”
He grins. “Am I that much of a prize?”
“Christian, you are the state lottery, the cure for cancer, and the three wishes
from Aladdin’s lamp all rolled into one.”
He raises a brow.
“When will you realize this?” I scold him. “You were a very eligible bachelor.
And I don’t mean all this.” I wa一ve dismissingly at our plush surroundings. “I
mean in here.” I place my hand over his heart, and his eyes widen. My
confident, sexy husband has gone, and I’m facing my lost boy. “Believe me,
Christian, please,” I whisper and reach up to clasp his face, pulling his lips to
mine. He groans, and I don’t know if it’s the pain of hearing what I ha一ve to say
or his usual primal response. I claim him, my lips moving against his, my
tongue invading his mouth.
When we’re both breathless, he pulls away, eyeing me doub一tfully.
“When are you going to get it through your exceptionally thick skull that I love
you?” I ask, exasperated.
He swallows. “One day,” he says.
This is progress. I smile and am rewarded with his answering shy smile.
“Come. Let’s ha一ve some lunch—the others will be wondering where we are.
We can discuss what we all want to do.”
“Oh no!” Kate says suddenly.
All eyes turn to her.
“Look,” she says, pointing to the picture window. Outside, rain has started
pouring down. We are sitting around the dark wood table in the kitchen
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by Mrs. Bentley, and a bottle or two of Frascati. I’m replete and a little buzzy
from the alcohol.
“There goes our hike,” Elliot mutters, sounding vaguely relieved. Kate scowls
at him. Something is definitely up with them . . . They ha一ve been relaxed with
all of us but not with each other.
“We could go into town,” Mia pipes up. Ethan smirks at her.
“Perfect weather for fishing,” Christian suggests.
“I’ll go fish,” Ethan says.
“Let’s split up.” Mia claps her hands. “Girls, shopping—boys, outdoor boring
stuff.”
I glance at Kate, who regards Mia indulgently. Fishing or shopping?
Jeez, what a choice.
“Ana, what do you want to do?” Christian asks.
“I don’t mind,” I lie.
Kate catches my eye and mouths “shopping” at me, perhaps she wants to
talk.
“But I’m more than happy to go shopping.” I add, smiling wryly at Kate and
Mia. Christian smirks. He knows I hate shopping.
“I can stay here with you, if you’d like,” he murmurs, and something dark
unfurls in my belly at his tone.
“No, you go fish,” I answer. Christian needs boy time.
“Sounds like a plan,” Kate says, rising from the table.
“Taylor will accompany you,” Christian says, and it’s a given—not up for
discussion.
“We don’t need babysitting,” Kate retorts bluntly, direct as ever. I put my hand
on Kate’s arm. “Kate, Taylor should come.”
She frowns, then shrugs, and for once in her life holds her tongue. I smile
timidly at Christian . His expression remains impassive. Oh, I hope he’s not
mad at Kate.
Elliot frowns. “I need to pick up a battery for my watch in town.”
He glances quickly at Kate, and I spot his slight blush. She doesn’t notice
because she is pointedly ignoring him.
“Take the Audi, Elliot. When you come back we can go fishing,”
Christian says.
“Yeah!” Elliot mutters, but he seems distracted. “Good plan.”
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“In here.” Grabbing my hand, Mia hauls me into a designer boutique that’s all
pink silk and faux-French distressed rustic furniture. Kate follows us while
Taylor waits outside, sheltering under the awning from the rain. Aretha is
belting out “Say A Little Prayer” over the store’s hi-fi system. I love this song. I
should put it on Christian’s iPod.
“This will look wonderful on you, Ana.” Mia holds up a scrap of silver material.
“Here, try it on.”
“Um . . . it’s a bit short.”
“You’ll look fantastic in it. Christian will love it.”
“You think?”
Mia beams at me. “Ana, you ha一ve legs to die for, and if we go clubbing
tonight”—she smiles, sensing an easy kill—“you’ll look hot for your husband.”
I blink at her, slightly shocked. We’re going clubbing? I don’t do clubbing.
Kate laughs at my expression. She seems more relaxed now that she’s away
from Elliot. “We should throw some shapes this evening,”
she says.
“Go try it on,” Mia orders, and reluctantly I head for the changing room.
While I wait for Kate and Mia to emerge from the dressing room, I stroll to the
shop window and look out, unseeing, across the main street. The soul
compilation continues: Dionne Warwick is singing
“Walk On By.” Another great song—one of my mother’s fa一vorites. I glance
down at The Dress in my hand. Dress is perhaps an overstatement. It’s
backless and very short, but Mia has declared it a winner, perfect for dancing
the night away. Apparently, I need shoes, too, and a large chunky necklace,
which we’ll source next. Rolling my eyes, I reflect once more on how lucky I
am to ha一ve Caroline Acton, my own personal shopper.
Through the boutique window I’m distracted by the sight of Elliot. He has
appeared on the other side of the leafy main street, climbing out of a large
Audi. Elliot pes into a store as if to duck out of the rain. Looks like a jewelry
store . . . maybe he’s looking for that watch battery. He emerges a few
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Fuck! He’s talking to Gia! What the hell is she doing here?
As I watch, they hug briefly and she holds her head back, laughing
animatedly at something he says. He kisses her cheek then runs to the
waiting car. She turns and heads down the street, and I gape after her. What
was that about? I turn anxiously toward the dressing rooms, but there’s still no
sign of Kate or Mia.
I glance at Taylor, where he’s waiting outside the store. He catches my eye
then shrugs. He’s witnessed Elliot’s little encounter, too. I blush,
embarrassed to ha一ve been caught snooping. Turning back, Mia and Kate
emerge, both of them laughing. Kate looks at me quizzically.
“What’s wrong, Ana?” she asks. “You gone cold on the dress? You look
sensational in it.”
“Um, no.”
“Are you okay?” Kate’s eyes widen.
“I’m fine. Shall we pay?” I head to the cashier joining Mia who has chosen
two skirts.
“Good afternoon, ma’am.” The young sales assistant—who has more gloss
coating her lips than I ha一ve ever seen in one place—smiles at me. “That’ll be
eight hundred and fifty dollars.”
What? For this scrap of material! I blink at her and meekly hand over my
black Amex.
“Mrs. Grey,” Ms. Lip Gloss purrs.
I follow Kate and Mia in a daze for the next two hours, warring with myself.
Should I tell Kate? My subconscious firmly shakes her head. Yes, I should tell
her. No, I shouldn’t. It could just ha一ve been an innocent meeting. Shit. What
should I do?
“Well, do you like the shoes, Ana?” Mia has her fists on her hips.
“Um . . . yeah, sure.”
I end up with a pair of unfeasibly high Manolo Blahniks with straps that look
like they are made from mirrors. They match the dress perfectly and set
Christian back just over a thousand dollars. I’m luckier with the long silver
chain that Kate insists I buy; it’s a bargain at eighty-four dollars.
“Getting used to ha一ving money?” Kate asks, not unkindly, as we walk back to
the car. Mia has skipped ahead.
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“You know this isn’t me, Kate. I’m kind of uncomfortable about all this. But I’m
reliably informed it’s part of the package.” I purse my lips at her, and she puts
her arm around me.
“You’ll get used to it, Ana,” she says sympathetically. “You’ll look great.”
“Kate, how are you and Elliot getting along?” I ask. Her wide blue eyes dart
to mine.
Oh no.
She shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about it now.” She nods toward
Mia. “But things are—” She doesn’t finish her sentence. This is unlike my
tenacious Kate. Shit. I knew something was up. Do I tell her? Tell her what I
saw? What did I see? Elliot and Miss Well-Groomed-Sexual-Predator
talking, hugging, and that kiss on the cheek. Surely they are just old friends?
No, I won’t tell her. Not right now. I give her my I-completely-understand-andwill-
respect-yourprivacy nod. She reaches for my hand and gives it a grateful
squeeze, and there it is—a swift glimpse of pain and hurt in her eyes that she
quickly stifles with a blink. In that moment I feel a surge of protectiveness for
my dear friend. What the fuck is Elliot Manwhore Grey playing at?
Once back at the house, Kate decides we deserve cocktails after our
shopping extra一vaganza and whips up some strawberry daiquiris for us. We
curl up on the sitting room couches in front of the blazing log fire.
“Elliot has just been a little distant lately,” Kate murmurs, gazing into the
flames. Kate and I finally ha一ve a moment to ourselves as Mia puts away her
purchases.
“Oh?”
“I think I’m in trouble for getting you into trouble,” she adds.
“You heard about that?”
“Yes. Christian called Elliot; Elliot called me.”
I roll my eyes. Oh Fifty, Fifty, Fifty.
“I’m sorry. Christian is . . . protective. You ha一ven’t seen Elliot since
cocktailgate?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
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“I really like him, Ana,” she whispers. And for one dreadful minute I think she’s
going to cry. Oh no . . . This is not like Kate. Does this mean the return of the
pink pajamas? She turns to gaze at me.
“I’ve fallen in love with him. At first I thought it was just the great sex. But he’s
charming and kind and warm and funny. I could see us growing old together
—you know . . . kids, grandkids—the works.”
“Your happy ever after,” I whisper.
She nods sadly.
“Maybe you should talk to him. Try and find some alone time here. Find out
what’s eating him.”
Who’s eating him, my subconscious snarls. I slap her down, shocked at the
waywardness of my own thoughts.
“Perhaps you guys could go for a walk tomorrow morning?”
“We’ll see.”
“Kate, I hate seeing you like this.”
She smiles weakly, and I lean over to hug her. I resolve not to mention Gia,
though I might mention it to the manwhore himself. How can he mess with my
friend’s affections like this?
Mia returns, and we move on to safer territory.
The fire hisses and spits sparks on to the hearth as I feed it the last log.
We’re almost out of wood. Even though it’s summer, the fire is very welcome
on this wet day.
“Mia, do you know where the wood for the fire is kept?” I ask as she sips her
daiquiri.
“I think it’s in the garage.”
“I’ll go find some. It’ll give me an opportunity to explore.”
The rain has eased off when I venture outside and head to the threecar
garage adjoining the house. The side door is unlocked and I enter, switching
on the light to fight the gloom. The fluorescent strips ping noisily to life.
There’s a car in the garage, and I realize it’s the Audi I saw Elliot in this
afternoon. There are also two snowmobiles. But what really grabs my
attention are the two trail bikes, both 125cc. Memories of Ethan bra一vely
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my mind. Unconsciously, I rub my arm where I badly bruised it in a fall.
“You ride?” Elliot asks from behind me.
I whirl around. “You’re back.”
“It would appear so.” He grins, and I realize that Christian might say the same
thing to me—but without the huge, heart-melting grin.
“Well?” he asks.
Manwhore!
“Sort of.”
“Do you want a go?”
I snort. “Um, no . . . I don’t think Christian would be very happy if I did.”
“Christian’s not here.” Elliot smirks— oh, it’s a family trait—and wa一ves his
arm to indicate we’re alone. He strolls toward the nearest bike and swings a
long denimed leg over the saddle, sitting astride and grabbing the
handlebars.
“Christian has, um . . . issues about my safety. I shouldn’t.”
“You always do what he says?” Elliot has a wicked sparkle in his baby-blue
eyes and I see a glimmer of the bad boy . . . the bad boy Kate has fallen in
love with. The bad boy from Detroit.
“No.” I arch an admonishing brow at him. “But I’m trying to put that right. He
has enough to worry about without adding me to the mix. Is he back?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t go fishing?”
Elliot shakes his head. “I had some business to deal with in town.”
Business! Holy shit—groomed blonde business! I inhale sharply and gape at
him.
“If you don’t want to ride, what are you doing in the garage?” Elliot is
intrigued.
“I’m looking for wood for the fire.”
“There you are. Oh, Elliot—you’re back.” Kate interrupts us.
“Hey, baby.” He smiles broadly.
“Catch anything?”
I scrutinize Elliot’s reaction. “No. I had a few things to take care of in town.”
And for one brief moment, I see a flash of uncertainty cross his face.
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Oh shit.
“I came out to see what was keeping Ana.” Kate looks at us, confused.
“We were just shooting the breeze,” Elliot says, and the tension crackles
between them.
We all pause as we hear a car pull up outside. Oh! Christian’s back. Thank
hea一vens. The garage door opener whirrs loudly into action, startling us all,
and the door slowly lifts to reveal Christian and Ethan unloading a black
flatbed truck. Christian stops when he sees us all standing in the garage.
“Garage band?” he asks sardonically as he wanders in, heading straight for
me.
I grin. I am relieved to see him. Beneath his wax coat he’s wearing the
overalls I sold him at Claytons.
“Hi,” he says looking quizzically at me, ignoring both Kate and Elliot.
“Hi. Nice overalls.”
“Lots of pockets. Very handy for fishing.” His voice is soft and seductive, for
my ears only, and when he gazes down at me his expression is hot.
I flush, and he smiles a huge, no-holds-barred, all-for-me smile.
“You’re wet,” I murmur.
“It was raining. What are you guys doing in the garage?” Finally he
acknowledges that we are not alone.
“Ana came to fetch some wood,” Elliot smirks. Somehow he manages to
make that sentence sound smutty. “I tried to tempt her to take a ride.” He is
master of the double entendre.
Christian’s face falls, and my heart stills.
“She said no. That you wouldn’t like it,” Elliot adds kindly—and innuendofree.
Christian’s gray gaze swings back to me. “Did she, now?” he murmurs.
“Listen, I’m all for standing around discussing what Ana did next, but shall we
go back inside?” Kate snaps. She stoops down, snatches up two logs, and
turns on her heel, stomping toward the door. Oh shit. Kate is mad—but I
know it’s not at me. Elliot sighs and, without a word, follows her out. I gaze
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“You can ride a motorcycle?” he asks, his voice laced with disbelief.
“Not very well. Ethan taught me.”
His eyes frost immediately. “You made the right decision,” he says, his voice
much cooler. “The ground’s very hard at the moment, and the rain’s made it
treacherous and slippery.”
“Where do you want the fishing gear?” Ethan calls from outside.
“Lea一ve it, Ethan—Taylor will take care of it.”
“What about the fish?” Ethan continues, his voice vaguely taunting.
“You caught a fish?” I ask, surprised.
“Not me. Ka一vanagh did.” And Christian pouts . . . prettily. I burst out laughing.
“Mrs. Bentley will deal with that,” he calls back. Ethan grins and heads into
the house.
“Am I amusing you, Mrs. Grey?”
“Very much so. You’re wet . . . Let me run you a bath.”
“As long as you join me.” He leans down and kisses me.
I fill the large egg-shaped tub in the en suite bathroom and pour in some
expensive bath oil, which starts to foam immediately. The aroma is hea一venly
. . . jasmine, I think. Back in the bedroom, I start to hang The Dress while the
bath fills.
“Did you ha一ve a good time?” Christian asks as he enters the room. He’s just
in a T-shirt and sweat pants, his feet bare. He closes the door behind him.
“Yes,” I murmur, drinking him in. I ha一ve missed him. Ridiculous—
it’s only been what, a few hours?
He cocks his head to one side and gazes at me. “What is it?”
“I was thinking how much I’ve missed you.”
“You sound like you ha一ve it bad, Mrs. Grey.”
“I ha一ve, Mr. Grey.”
He strolls toward me until he’s standing in front of me. “What did you buy?” he
whispers, and I know it’s to change the topic of conversation.
“A dress, some shoes, a necklace. I spent a great deal of your money.” I
glance up at him, guiltily.
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He’s amused. “Good,” he murmurs, and his hand reaches up to tuck a stray
lock of hair behind my ear. “And for the billionth time, our money.” He tugs my
chin, releasing my lip from my teeth and runs his index finger down the front
of my T-shirt, down my sternum, between my breasts, down my stomach, and
over my belly to the hem.
“You won’t be needing this in the bath,” he whispers, and gripping the hem of
my T-shirt in both hands, slowly pulls it up. “Lift your arms.”
I comply, not taking my eyes off his, and he drops my T-shirt on the floor.
“I thought we were just ha一ving a bath.” My pulse quickens.
“I want to make you good and dirty first. I’ve missed you, too.” He leans down
and kisses me.
“Shit, the water!” I struggle to sit up, all post-orgasmic and dazed. Christian
doesn’t release me.
“Christian, the bath!” I gaze down at him from my prone position across his
chest.
He laughs. “Relax—it’s a wet room.” He rolls over and kisses me quickly. “I’ll
switch off the faucet.”
He climbs gracefully off the bed and strolls into the bathroom. My eyes
greedily follow him all the way. Hmm . . . my husband, naked and soon to be
wet. My inner goddess licks her lips salaciously and gives me her wellfucked
grin. I bound out of bed.
We sit at opposite ends of the bath, which is very full—so full that whenever
we move, water laps over the side and splashes to the floor. It’s very
decadent. Even more decadent is Christian washing my feet, massaging the
soles, pulling gently on my toes. He kisses each one and gently bites my little
toe.
“Aaah!” I feel it— there, in my groin.
“Like that?” he breathes.
“Hmm,” I mumble incoherently.
He starts massaging again. Oh, this feels good. I close my eyes.
“I saw Gia in town,” I murmur.
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“Really? I think she has a place here,” he says dismissively. He’s not
interested in the slightest.
“She was with Elliot.”
Christian stops massaging. That got his attention. When I open my eyes his
head is inclined to one side, like he doesn’t understand.
“What do you mean with Elliot?” he asks, perplexed rather than concerned.
I explain what I saw.
“Ana, they’re just friends. I think Elliot is pretty stuck on Kate.” He pauses then
adds more quietly. “In fact I know he’s pretty stuck on her.” And he gives me
his I-ha一ve-no-idea-why look.
“Kate is gorgeous.” I bristle, championing my friend. He snorts. “Still glad it
was you that fell into my office.” He kisses my big toe, releases my left foot
and picks up my right, beginning the massage process again. His fingers
are so strong and supple, I relax again. I do not want to fight about Kate. I
close my eyes and let his fingers work their magic on my feet.
I gape at myself in the full-length mirror, not recognizing the vixen that stares
back at me. Kate has gone all out and played Barbie with me this evening,
styling my hair and makeup. My hair is full and straight, my eyes ringed with
kohl, my lips scarlet red. I look . . . hot. I’m all legs, especially in the highheeled
Manolos and my plainly indecent short dress. I need Christian to
approve, though I ha一ve a horrible feeling he won’t like so much of my flesh
exposed. In view of our entente cordiale, I decide I should ask him. I pick up
my BlackBerry, as I doub一t he’ll hear me from upstairs.
From: Anastasia Grey
Subject: Does My Butt Look Big In This?
Date: August 27, 2011 18:53 MST
To: Christian Grey
Mr. Grey
I need your sartorial advice.
Yours
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Fifty Shades Freed
Mrs. G x
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Peachy
Date: August 27, 2011 18:55 MST
To: Anastasia Grey
Mrs. Grey
I seriously doub一t it.
But I will come and give your butt a thorough examination just to make sure.
Yours in anticipation
Mr. G x
Christian Grey,
CEO Grey Enterprises Holdings and Butt Inspectorate Inc.
As I read his e-mail, the bedroom door opens and Christian freezes on the
threshold. His mouth pops open and his eyes widen. Holy crap . . . this could
go either way.
“Well?” I whisper.
“Ana, you look . . . Wow.”
“You like it?”
“Yes, I guess so.” He’s a little hoarse. Slowly he steps into the room and
closes the door. He’s wearing black jeans and a white shirt, but with a black
jacket . . . he looks pine. He stalks slowly toward me, but as soon as he
reaches me, he puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me around to face
the full-length mirror, while he stands behind me. My gaze finds his in the
glass, then he glances down, fascinated by my naked back. His finger glides
down my spine and reaches the edge of my dress at the small of my back,
where pale flesh meets silver cloth.
“This is very revealing,” he murmurs.
His hand skims lower, over my backside and down to my naked thigh. He
pauses, gray eyes burning intently into blue. Then slowly he trails his fingers
back up to the hem of my skirt.
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Watching his long fingers move lightly, teasingly across my skin, feeling the
tingles they lea一ve in their wake, my mouth forms a perfect O.
“It’s not far from here.” He touches the hem, then moves his fingers higher.
“To here,” he whispers. I gasp as his fingers stroke my sex, moving
tantalizingly over my panties, feeling me, teasing me.
“And your point is?” I whisper.
“My point is . . . it’s not far from here”—his fingers glide over my panties, then
one is inside, against my soft dampened flesh—“to here. And then . . . to
here.” He slips a finger inside me. I gasp and make a soft mewling sound.
“This is mine,” he murmurs in my ear. Closing his eyes he moves his finger
slowly in and out of me. “I don’t want anyone else to see this.”
My breath stutters, my panting matching the rhythm of his finger. Watching
him in the mirror, doing this . . . it’s beyond erotic.
“So be a good girl and don’t bend down, and you should be fine.”
“You approve?” I whisper.
“No, but I’m not going to stop you wearing it. You look stunning, Anastasia.”
Abruptly he withdraws his finger, lea一ving me wanting more, and he moves
around to face me. He places the tip of his invading finger on my lower lip.
Instinctively, I pucker my lips and kiss it, and I’m rewarded with a wicked grin.
He puts his finger in his mouth and his expression informs me that I taste
good . . . real good. I flush. Will it always shock me when he does that?
He grasps my hand.
“Come,” he orders softly. I want to retort that I was about to, but in light of
what happened in the playroom yesterday, I decide against it.
We are waiting for dessert in a plush, exclusive restaurant in town. It’s been a
lively evening so far, and Mia is determined it should continue and that we
must go clubbing. Right now she’s sitting silently—for once—hanging on
Ethan’s every word as he and Christian talk. Mia is obviously infatuated with
Ethan, and Ethan is . . . well it’s difficult to tell. I don’t know if they are just
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Christian seems at ease. He’s been talking animatedly with Ethan—
they obviously bonded over the fly-fishing. They’re talking about psychology,
mainly. Ironically, it’s Christian who sounds the more knowledgeable. I snort
softly as I half listen to their conversation, sadly acknowledging that his
expertise is the result of his experience with so many shrinks.
You’re the best therapy. His words, whispered while we were making love
once, echo in my head. Am I? Oh, Christian, I hope so. I glance over at Kate.
She looks beautiful, but then she always does. She and Elliot are less lively.
He seems nervous, his jokes a little too loud and his laugh a little off. Ha一ve
they had a fight? What’s eating him? Is it that woman? My heart sinks at the
thought that he might hurt my best friend. I glance at the entrance, half
expecting to see Gia calmly saunter her well-groomed ass across the
restaurant to us. My mind is playing tricks—I suspect it’s the amount of
alcohol I’ve had. My head is beginning to ache.
Abruptly, Elliot startles us all by standing and pulling his chair back so it
scrapes across the tile floor. All eyes turn to him. He gazes down at Kate for
one moment then drops to one knee beside her. Oh. My. God.
He reaches for her hand, and silence settles like a blanket over the entire
restaurant as everyone stops eating, stops talking, stops walking, and
stares.
“My beautiful Kate, I love you. Your grace, your beauty, and your fiery spirit
ha一ve no equal, and you ha一ve captured my heart. Spend your life with me.
Marry me.”
Holy shit!
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