Fifty Shades Trilogy Bundle: Fifty Shades of Grey; Fifty Shades Darker; Fifty Shades Freed

by E. L. James

  “Darling, you sound so lost. You’ve never brought a boy home. You never even had a boyfriend when we were in Vegas. I thought something might develop with that guy you met in college, José.”

  “Mom, José’s just a friend.”

  “I know, sweetheart. But something’s up, and I don’t think you’re telling me everything.” She gazes at me, her face etched with motherly concern.

  “I just needed some distance from Christian to get my thoughts straight … that’s all. He tends to overwhelm me.”

  “Overwhelm?”

  “Yeah. I miss him, though.” I frown.

  I have not heard from Christian all day. No e-mails, nothing. I am tempted to call him to see if he’s okay. My worst fear is that he’s been in a car accident; my second worst fear is that Mrs. Robinson has gotten her evil claws into him again. I know it’s irrational, but where she’s concerned, I seem to have lost all sense of perspective.

  “Darling, I have to visit the restroom.”

  My mother’s brief absence allows me another chance to check my BlackBerry. I have been trying surreptitiously to check my e-mail all day. Finally—a response from Christian!

  * * *

  From: Christian Grey

  Subject: Dinner Companions

  Date: June 1 2011 21:40 EST

  To: Anastasia Steele

  Yes, I had dinner with Mrs. Robinson. She is just an old friend, Anastasia.

  Looking forward to seeing you again. I miss you.

  Christian Grey

  CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

  He was having dinner with her. My scalp prickles as adrenaline and fury lance through my body, all my worst fears realized. How could he? I am away for two days, and he runs off to that evil bitch.

  * * *

  From: Anastasia Steele

  Subject: OLD Dinner Companions

  Date: June 1 2011 21:42 EST

  To: Christian Grey

  She’s not just an old friend.

  Has she found another adolescent boy to sink her teeth into?

  Did you get too old for her?

  Is that the reason your relationship finished?

  I press “send” as my mother returns.

  “Ana, you’re so pale. What’s happened?”

  I shake my head.

  “Nothing. Let’s have another drink,” I mutter mulishly.

  Her brow furrows, but she glances up and attracts the attention of one of the waiters, pointing to our glasses. He nods. He understands the universal language of “another round, please.” As she does, I quickly glance at my BlackBerry.

  * * *

  From: Christian Grey

  Subject: Careful …

  Date: June 1 2011 21:45 EST

  To: Anastasia Steele

  This is not something I wish to discuss via e-mail.

  How many Cosmopolitans are you going to drink?

  Christian Grey

  CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

  Holy fuck, he’s here.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  * * *

  I glance nervously around the bar but cannot see him.

  “Ana, what is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “It’s Christian, he’s here.”

  “What? Really?” She glances around the bar, too.

  I have neglected to mention Christian’s stalker tendencies to my mom.

  I see him. My heart leaps, beginning a jittery thumping beat as he makes his way toward us. He’s really here—for me. My inner goddess leaps up cheering from her chaise longue. Moving smoothly through the crowd, his hair glints burnished copper and red under the recessed halogens. His bright gray eyes are shining with—anger? Tension? His mouth is set in a grim line, jaw tense. Oh, holy shit … no. I am so mad at him right now, and here he is. How can I be angry with him in front of my mother?

  He arrives at our table, gazing at me warily. He’s dressed in his customary white linen shirt and jeans.

  “Hi,” I squeak, unable to hide my shock and awe at seeing him here in the flesh.

  “Hi,” he replies, and leaning down, he kisses my cheek, taking me by surprise.

  “Christian, this is my mother, Carla.” My ingrained manners take over.

  He turns to greet my mom. “Mrs. Adams, I am delighted to meet you.”

  How does he know her name? He gives her the heart-stopping, Christian Grey–patented, full-blown, no-prisoners smile. She doesn’t have a hope. My mother’s lower jaw practically hits the table. Jeez, get a grip, Mom. She takes his proffered hand, and they shake. My mother hasn’t replied. Oh, complete dumbfounded speechlessness is genetic—I had no idea.

  “Christian,” she manages finally, breathlessly.

  He smiles knowingly at her, his gray eyes twinkling. I narrow my eyes at them both.

  “What are you doing here?” My question sounds more brittle than I mean, and his smile disappears, his expression now guarded. I am thrilled to see him but completely thrown off balance, my anger about Mrs. Robinson simmering through my veins. I don’t know if I want to shout at him or throw myself into his arms—but I don’t think he’d like either—and I want to know how long he has been watching us. I’m also a little anxious about the e-mail I just sent him.

  “I came to see you, of course.” He gazes down at me impassively. Oh, what is he thinking? “I’m staying in this hotel.”

  “You’re staying here?” I sound like a sophomore on amphetamines, too high pitched even for my own ears.

  “Well, yesterday you said you wished I was here.” He pauses, trying to gauge my reaction. “We aim to please, Miss Steele.” His voice is quiet with no trace of humor.

  Crap—is he mad? Maybe the Mrs. Robinson comments? Or the fact that I am on my third, soon to be fourth, Cosmo? My mother is glancing anxiously at the two of us.

  “Won’t you join us for a drink, Christian?” She waves to the waiter, who is at her side in a nanosecond.

  “I’ll have a gin and tonic,” Christian says. “Hendricks if you have it, or Bombay Sapphire. Cucumber with the Hendricks, lime with the Bombay.”

  Holy hell … only Christian could make a meal out of ordering a drink.

  “And two more Cosmos, please,” I add, looking anxiously at Christian. I am drinking with my mother—no way can he be angry about that.

  “Please pull up a chair, Christian.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Adams.”

  Christian pulls a nearby chair over and sits gracefully down beside me.

  “So you just happen to be staying in the hotel where we’re drinking?” I ask, trying hard to keep my tone light.

  “Or you just happen to be drinking in the hotel where I’m staying,” Christian replies. “I just finished dinner, came in here, and saw you. I was distracted, thinking about your most recent e-mail, and I glance up and there you are. Quite a coincidence, eh?” He cocks his head to one side, and I see a trace of a smile. Thank heavens—we may be able to save the evening after all.

  “My mother and I were shopping this morning and on the beach this afternoon. We decided on a few cocktails this evening,” I mutter, feeling that I owe him some sort of explanation.

  “Did you buy that top?” He nods at my brand-new green silk camisole. “The color suits you. And you’ve caught some sun. You look lovely.”

  I flush, speechless at his compliment.

  “Well, I was going to pay you a visit tomorrow. But here you are.”

  He reaches over, takes my hand, and squeezes it gently, running his thumb across my knuckles to and fro … and I feel the familiar pull. The electric charge zapping beneath my skin under the gentle pressure from his thumb, firing into my bloodstream and pulsing around my body, heating everything in its path. It’s been more than two days since I saw him. Oh my … I want him. My breath hitches. I blink at him, smiling shyly, and see a smile play on his lips.

  “I thought I’d surprise you. But as ever, Anastasia, you surprise me by being here.”

 
I glance quickly at Mom, who is staring at Christian … yes staring! Stop it, Mom. As if he’s some exotic creature, never seen before. I mean, I know I’ve never had a boyfriend, and Christian only qualifies as such for ease of reference—but is it so unbelievable that I could attract a man? This man? Yes, frankly—look at him! my subconscious snaps. Oh, shut up! Who invited you to the party? I scowl at my mom—but she doesn’t seem to notice.

  “I don’t want to interrupt the time you have with your mother. I’ll have a quick drink and then retire. I have work to do,” he states earnestly.

  “Christian, it’s lovely to meet you finally,” Mom interjects, finally finding her voice. “Ana has spoken very fondly of you.”

  He smiles at her. “Really?” He raises an eyebrow at me, an amused expression on his face, and I flush again.

  The waiter arrives with our drinks.

  “Hendricks, sir,” he says with a triumphant flourish.

  “Thank you,” Christian murmurs in acknowledgment.

  I sip my latest Cosmo nervously.

  “How long are you in Georgia, Christian?” Mom asks.

  “Until Friday, Mrs. Adams.”

  “Will you have dinner with us tomorrow evening? And please, call me Carla.”

  “I’d be delighted to, Carla.”

  “Excellent. If you two will excuse me, I need to visit the restroom.”

  Mom … you’ve just been. I look at her desperately as she stands and walks off, leaving us alone together.

  “So, you’re mad at me for having dinner with an old friend.” Christian turns his burning, wary gaze to me, lifting my hand to his lips and kissing each knuckle gently.

  Jeez, he wants to do this now?

  “Yes,” I murmur as my heated blood courses through me.

  “Our sexual relationship was over long ago, Anastasia,” he whispers. “I don’t want anyone but you. Haven’t you worked that out yet?”

  I blink at him. “I think of her as a child molester, Christian.” I hold my breath waiting for his reaction.

  Christian blanches. “That’s very judgmental. It wasn’t like that,” he whispers, shocked. He releases my hand.

  Judgmental?

  “Oh, how was it then?” I ask. The Cosmos are making me brave.

  He frowns at me, bewildered. I continue. “She took advantage of a vulnerable fifteen-year-old boy. If you had been a fifteen-year-old girl and Mrs. Robinson was a Mr. Robinson, tempting you into a BDSM lifestyle, that would have been okay? If it was Mia, say?”

  He gasps and scowls at me. “Ana, it wasn’t like that.”

  I glare at him.

  “Okay, it didn’t feel like that to me,” he continues quietly. “She was a force for good. What I needed.”

  “I don’t understand.” It’s my turn to look bewildered.

  “Anastasia, your mother will be back shortly. I’m not comfortable talking about this now. Later, maybe. If you don’t want me here, I have a plane on standby at Hilton Head. I can go.”

  He’s angry with me … no.

  “No—don’t go. Please. I’m thrilled you’re here. I’m just trying to make you understand. I’m angry that as soon as I left, you had dinner with her. Think about how you are when I get anywhere near José. José is a good friend. I have never had a sexual relationship with him. Whereas you and her …” I trail off, unwilling to take that thought further.

  “You’re jealous?” He stares at me, dumbfounded, and his eyes soften slightly, warming.

  “Yes, and angry about what she did to you.”

  “Anastasia, she helped me. That’s all I’ll say about that. And as for your jealousy, put yourself in my shoes. I haven’t had to justify my actions to anyone in the last seven years. Not one person. I do as I wish, Anastasia. I like my autonomy. I didn’t go and see Mrs. Robinson to upset you. I went because every now and then we have dinner. She’s a friend and a business partner.”

  Business partner? Holy crap. This is news.

  He gazes at me, assessing my expression. “Yes, we’re business partners. The sex is over between us. It has been for years.”

  “Why did your relationship end?”

  His mouth narrows and his eyes gleam. “Her husband found out.”

  Holy shit!

  “Can we talk about this some other time—somewhere more private?” he growls.

  “I don’t think you’ll ever convince me that she’s not some kind of pedophile.”

  “I don’t think of her that way. I never have. Now that’s enough!” he snaps.

  “Did you love her?”

  “How are you two getting on?” My mother has returned, unseen by either of us.

  I plaster a fake smile on my face as both Christian and I lean back hastily … guiltily. She gazes at me.

  “Fine, Mom.”

  Christian sips his drink, watching me closely, his expression guarded. What is he thinking? Did he love her? I think if he did, I will lose it, big time.

  “Well, ladies, I shall leave you to your evening.”

  No … no … he can’t leave me hanging like this.

  “Please, put these drinks on my tab, room number 612. I’ll call you in the morning, Anastasia. Until tomorrow, Carla.”

  “Oh, it’s so nice to hear someone use your full name.”

  “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” Christian murmurs, shaking her outstretched hand, and she actually simpers.

  Oh, Mom—et tu, Brute? I stand, gazing up at him, imploring him to answer my question, and he kisses my cheek chastely.

  “Laters, baby,” he whispers in my ear. Then he’s gone.

  Damned control freak bastard. My anger returns in full force. I slump into my chair and turn to face my mother.

  “Well, strike me down with a feather, Ana. He’s a catch. I don’t know what’s going on between you two though. I think you need to talk to each other. Phew—the UST in here, it’s unbearable.” She fans herself theatrically.

  “MOM!”

  “Go talk to him.”

  “I can’t. I came here to see you.”

  “Ana, you came here because you’re confused about that boy. It’s obvious you two are crazy about each other. You need to talk to him. He’s just flown three-thousand-odd miles to see you, for heaven’s sake. And you know how awful it is to fly.”

  I flush. I haven’t told her about his private plane.

  “What?” she snaps.

  “He has his own plane,” I mumble, embarrassed, “and it’s only two and a half thousand miles, Mom.”

  Why am I embarrassed? Her eyebrows shoot up.

  “Wow,” she mutters. “Ana, there’s something going on between you two. I’ve been trying to fathom it since you arrived here. But the only way you are going to sort the problem, whatever it is, is to talk it through with him. You can do all the thinking you like—but until you actually talk, you’re not going to get anywhere.”

  I frown at my mother.

  “Ana, honey, you’ve always had a tendency to overanalyze everything. Go with your gut. What does that tell you, sweetheart?”

  I stare at my fingers.

  “I think I’m in love with him,” I mutter.

  “I know darling. And he with you.”

  “No!”

  “Yes, Ana. Hell—what do you need? A neon sign flashing on his forehead?”

  I gape at her and tears prick the corner of my eyes.

  “Ana, darling. Don’t cry.”

  “I don’t think he loves me.”

  “I don’t care how rich you are, you don’t drop everything and get in your private plane to cross a whole continent just for afternoon tea. Go to him! This is a beautiful location, very romantic. It’s also neutral territory.”

  I squirm under her gaze. I want to go and I don’t.

  “Darling, don’t feel you have to come back with me. I want you happy—and right now I think the key to your happiness is upstairs in room 612. If you need to come home later, the key is under the yucca plant on the front porc
h. If you stay—well … you’re a big girl now. Just be safe.”

  I flush Stars and Stripes red. Jeez, Mom.

  “Let’s finish our Cosmos first.”

  “That’s my girl, Ana.” She grins.

  I KNOCK TIMIDLY ON room 612 and wait. Christian opens the door. He’s on his cell. He blinks at me in complete surprise, then holds the door open wide and beckons me into his room.

  “All the redundancy packages concluded? … And the cost? …” Christian whistles between his teeth. “Sheesh … that was one expensive mistake … And Lucas? …”

  I glance around the room. He’s in a suite, like the one at the Heathman. The furnishings here are ultramodern, very now. All muted dark purples and golds with bronze starbursts on the walls. Christian walks over to a dark wood unit and pulls open a door to reveal a minibar. He indicates that I should help myself, then wanders into the bedroom. I assume it’s so I can no longer hear his conversation. I shrug. He didn’t stop his call when I entered his study that time. I hear water running … he’s filling a bath. I help myself to an orange juice. He ambles back into the room.

  “Have Andrea send me the schematics. Barney said he’d cracked the problem …” Christian laughs. “No, Friday … There’s a plot of land here that I’m interested in … Yeah, get Bill to call … No, tomorrow … I want to see what Georgia will offer if we move in.” Christian doesn’t take his eyes off me. Handing me a glass, he points to an ice bucket.

  “If their incentives are attractive enough … I think we should consider it, though I’m not sure about the damned heat here … I agree, Detroit has its advantages, too, and it’s cooler …” His face darkens momentarily. Why? “Get Bill to call. Tomorrow … Not too early.” He hangs up and stares at me, his face unreadable, and the silence stretches between us.