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

by E. L. James

  “Enjoy, Mr. Grey, Ana,” she says and leaves us to it.

  Christian fetches a bottle of white wine from the fridge, and as we sit and eat, he tells me about how much nearer he’s getting to perfecting a solar-powered mobile phone. He’s animated and excited about the whole project, and I know then that he hasn’t had an entirely shitty day.

  I ask him about his properties. He smirks, and it turns out he only has apartments in New York, Aspen, and Escala. Nothing else. When we’re done, I collect his plate and mine and take them to sink.

  “Leave that. Gail will do it,” he says. I turn and gaze at him, and he’s watching me intently. Will I ever get used to having someone clean up after me?

  “Well, now that you are more docile, Miss Steele, shall we talk about today?”

  “I think you’re the one who’s more docile. I think I’m doing a good job in taming you.”

  “Taming me?” he snorts, amused. When I nod, he frowns as if reflecting on my words. “Yes. Maybe you are, Anastasia.”

  “You were right about Jack,” I murmur, serious now, and I lean across the kitchen island gauging his reaction. Christian’s face falls and his eyes harden.

  “Has he tried anything?” he whispers, his voice deathly cold.

  I shake my head to reassure him. “No, and he won’t, Christian. I told him today that I’m your girlfriend, and he backed right off.”

  “You’re sure? I could fire the fucker.” Christian scowls.

  I sigh, emboldened by my glass of wine. “You really have to let me fight my own battles. You can’t constantly second-guess me and try to protect me. It’s stifling, Christian. I’ll never flourish with your incessant interference. I need some freedom. I wouldn’t dream of meddling in your affairs.”

  He blinks at me. “I only want you safe, Anastasia. If anything happened to you, I—” He stops.

  “I know, and I understand why you feel so driven to protect me. And part of me loves it. I know that if I need you, you’ll be there, as I am for you. But if we are to have any hope of a future together, you have to trust me and trust my judgment. Yes, I’ll get it wrong sometimes—I’ll make mistakes, but I have to learn.”

  He stares at me, his expression anxious, spurring me to walk around to him so that I am standing between his legs while he sits on the barstool. Grabbing his hands, I put them around me and place my hands on his arms.

  “You can’t interfere in my job. It’s wrong. I don’t need you charging in like a white knight to save the day. I know you want to control everything, and I understand why, but you can’t. It’s an impossible goal … you have to learn to let go.” I reach up and stroke his face as he gazes at me, his eyes wide. “And if you can do that—give me that—I’ll move in with you,” I add softly.

  He inhales sharply, surprised. “You’d do that?” he whispers.

  “Yes.”

  “But you don’t know me.” He frowns and sounds choked and panicky all of a sudden, very un-Fifty.

  “I know you well enough, Christian. Nothing you tell me about yourself will frighten me away.” I gently run my knuckles across his cheek. His expression turns from anxious to dubious. “But if you could just ease up on me,” I plead.

  “I’m trying, Anastasia. I couldn’t just stand by and let you go to New York with that … sleazeball. He has an alarming reputation. None of his assistants have lasted more than three months, and they’re never retained by the company. I don’t want that for you, baby.” He sighs. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. You being hurt … the thought fills me with dread. I can’t promise not to interfere, not if I think you’ll come to harm.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “I love you, Anastasia. I will do everything in my power to protect you. I cannot imagine my life without you.”

  Holy cow. My inner goddess, my subconscious, and I all gape at Fifty in shock.

  Three little words. My world stands still, tilts, then spins on a new axis; and I savor the moment, gazing into his sincere, beautiful gray eyes.

  “I love you, too, Christian.” I lean over and kiss him, and the kiss deepens.

  Entering unseen, Taylor clears his throat. Christian pulls back, gazing intently at me. He stands up, his arm around my waist.

  “Yes?” he snaps at Taylor.

  “Mrs. Lincoln is on her way up, sir.”

  “What?”

  Taylor shrugs apologetically. Christian sighs heavily and shakes his head.

  “Well, this should be interesting,” he mutters and gives me a crooked grin of resignation.

  Fuck! Why can’t that damned woman leave us alone?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  * * *

  Did you talk to her today?” I ask Christian as we wait for Mrs. Robinson’s arrival.

  “Yes.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said that you didn’t want to see her, and that I understood your reasons why. I also told her that I didn’t appreciate her going behind my back.” His gaze is impassive, giving nothing away.

  Oh, good. “What did she say?”

  “She brushed it off in a way that only Elena can.” His mouth flattens to a crooked line.

  “Why do you think she’s here?”

  “I have no idea.” Christian shrugs.

  Taylor enters the great room again. “Mrs. Lincoln,” he announces.

  And here she is … Why is she so damned attractive? She’s dressed entirely in black: tight jeans, a shirt that emphasizes her perfect figure, and a halo of bright, glossy hair.

  Christian pulls me close. “Elena,” he says, his tone puzzled.

  She gapes at me in shock, frozen to the spot. She blinks before finding her soft voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company, Christian. It’s Monday,” she says as if this explains why she’s here.

  “Girlfriend,” he says by way of explanation and tilts his head to one side and gives her a cool smile.

  A slow, beaming smile directed entirely at him spreads across her face. It’s unnerving.

  “Of course. Hello, Anastasia. I didn’t know you’d be here. I know you don’t want to talk to me. I accept that.”

  “Do you?” I assert quietly, gazing at her and taking all of us by surprise. With a slight frown, she moves farther into the room.

  “Yes, I get the message. I’m not here to see you. Like I said, Christian rarely has company during the week.” She pauses. “I have a problem, and I need to talk to Christian about it.”

  “Oh?” Christian straightens up. “Do you want a drink?”

  “Yes, please,” she murmurs gratefully.

  Christian fetches a glass while Elena and I stand awkwardly gazing at each other. She fidgets with a large silver ring on her middle finger, while I don’t know where to look. Finally, she gives me a small tight smile and approaches the kitchen island and sits on the barstool at the end. She obviously knows the place well and feels comfortable moving around here.

  Do I stay? Do I go? Oh, this is so difficult. My subconscious scowls at the woman with her most hostile harpy face.

  There’s so much I want to say to this woman, and none of it complimentary. But she’s Christian’s friend—his only friend—and for all my loathing of this woman, I am innately polite. Deciding to stay, I sit as gracefully as I can manage on the stool Christian’s vacated. Christian pours wine into each of our glasses and sits between us at the breakfast bar. Can’t he feel how weird this is?

  “What’s up?” he asks her.

  Elena looks nervously at me, and Christian reaches over and clasps my hand.

  “Anastasia’s with me now,” he says to her silent query and squeezes my hand. I flush, and my subconscious beams at him, harpy face forgotten.

  Elena’s face softens as if she’s pleased for him. Really pleased for him. Oh, I don’t understand this woman at all, and I’m uncomfortable and edgy in her presence.

  She takes a deep breath and shifts, perching on the edge of her barstool and looking agitated. She glances nervously down
at her hands and starts manically twisting the large silver ring around and around on her middle finger.

  What’s wrong with her? Is it my presence? Do I have that effect on her? Because I feel the same way—I don’t want her here. She raises her head and looks Christian squarely in the eye.

  “I’m being blackmailed.”

  Holy shit. Not what I expected out of her mouth. Christian stiffens. Has someone found out about her penchant for beating and fucking underage boys? I suppress my revulsion, and a fleeting thought about chickens coming home to roost crosses my mind. My subconscious rubs her hands together with ill-disguised glee. Good.

  “How?” Christian asks, his horror clear in his voice.

  She reaches into her oversized patent-leather designer purse, pulls out a note, and hands it to him.

  “Put it down, lay it out.” Christian points to the breakfast bar counter with his chin.

  “You don’t want to touch it?”

  “No. Fingerprints.”

  “Christian, you know I can’t go to the police with this.”

  Why am I listening to this? Is she fucking some other poor boy?

  She lays the note out for him, and he bends to read it.

  “They’re only asking for five thousand dollars,” he says almost absentmindedly. “Any idea who it might be? Someone in the community?”

  “No,” she says in her soft sweet voice.

  “Linc?”

  Linc? Who’s that?

  “What—after all this time? I don’t think so,” she grumbles.

  “Does Isaac know?”

  “I haven’t told him.”

  Who’s Isaac?

  “I think he needs to know,” Christian says. She shakes her head, and now I feel I’m intruding. I want none of this. I try to retrieve my hand from Christian’s grasp, but he just tightens his hold and turns to gaze at me.

  “What?” he asks.

  “I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed.”

  His eyes search mine, looking for what? Censure? Acceptance? Hostility? I keep my expression as bland as possible.

  “Okay,” he says. “I won’t be long.”

  He releases me and I stand. Elena watches me warily. I stay tight-lipped and return her gaze, giving nothing away.

  “Good night, Anastasia.” She gives me a small smile.

  “Good night,” I mutter, my voice sounds cold. I turn to leave. The tension is too much for me to bear. As I exit the room they continue their conversation.

  “I don’t think there’s a great deal I can do, Elena,” Christian says to her. “If it’s a question of money …” His voice trails off. “I could ask Welch to investigate.”

  “No, Christian, I just wanted to share,” she says.

  When I am out of the room, I hear her say, “You look very happy.”

  “I am,” Christian responds.

  “You deserve to be.”

  “I wish that were true.”

  “Christian,” she scolds.

  I freeze, listening intently. I can’t help it.

  “Does she know how negative you are about yourself? About all your issues.”

  “She knows me better than anyone.”

  “Ouch! That hurts.”

  “It’s the truth, Elena. I don’t have to play games with her. And I mean it, leave her alone.”

  “What is her problem?”

  “You … What we were. What we did. She doesn’t understand.”

  “Make her understand.”

  “It’s in the past, Elena, and why would I want to taint her with our fucked-up relationship? She’s good and sweet and innocent, and by some miracle she loves me.”

  “It’s no miracle, Christian,” Elena scoffs good-naturedly. “Have a little faith in yourself. You really are quite a catch. I’ve told you often enough. And she seems lovely, too. Strong. Someone to stand up to you.”

  I can’t hear Christian’s response. So I’m strong, am I? I certainly don’t feel that way.

  “Don’t you miss it?” Elena continues.

  “What?”

  “Your playroom.”

  I stop breathing.

  “That really is none of your fucking business,” Christian snaps.

  Oh.

  “I’m sorry.” Elena snorts insincerely.

  “I think you’d better go. And please, call before you come again.”

  “Christian, I am sorry,” she says, and from her tone, this time she means it. “Since when are you so sensitive?” She’s scolding him again.

  “Elena, we have a business relationship that has profited us both immensely. Let’s keep it that way. What was between us is part of the past. Anastasia is my future, and I won’t jeopardize it in any way, so cut the fucking crap.”

  His future!

  “I see.”

  “Look, I’m sorry for your trouble. Perhaps you should ride it out and call their bluff.” His tone is softer.

  “I don’t want to lose you, Christian.”

  “I’m not yours to lose, Elena,” he snaps again.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “What did you mean?” He’s brusque, angry.

  “Look, I don’t want to argue with you. Your friendship means a lot to me. I’ll back off from Anastasia. But I’m here if you need me. I always will be.”

  “Anastasia thinks that you saw me last Saturday. You called, that’s all. Why did you tell her otherwise?”

  “I wanted her to know how upset you were when she left. I don’t want her to hurt you.”

  “She knows. I’ve told her. Stop interfering. Honestly, you’re like a mother hen.” Christian sounds more resigned, and Elena laughs, but there’s a sad tone to her laugh.

  “I know. I’m sorry. You know I care about you. I never thought you’d end up falling in love, Christian. It’s very gratifying to see. But I couldn’t bear it if she hurt you.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” he says dryly. “Now, are you sure you don’t want Welch to sniff around?”

  She sighs heavily. “I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm.”

  “Okay. I’ll call him in the morning.”

  I listen to them bickering, trying to figure this out. They do sound like old friends, as Christian says. Just friends. And she cares about him—maybe too much. Well, would anybody who knew him not care?

  “Thank you, Christian. And I am sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll go. Next time I’ll call.”

  “Good.”

  She’s going! Shit! I scamper up the hallway to Christian’s bedroom and sit down on the bed. Christian enters a few moments later.

  “She’s gone,” he says warily, gauging my reaction.

  I gaze up at him, trying to frame my question. “Will you tell me all about her? I am trying to understand why you think she helped you.” I pause, thinking carefully about my next sentence. “I loathe her, Christian. I think she did you untold damage. You have no friends. Did she keep them away from you?”

  He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

  “Why the fuck do you want to know about her? We had a very long-standing affair, she beat the shit out of me often, and I fucked her in all sorts of ways you can’t even imagine, end of story.”

  I pale. Shit, he’s angry—with me. I blink at him. “Why are you so angry?”

  “Because all of that shit is over!” he shouts, glowering at me. He sighs in exasperation and shakes his head.

  I blanch. Shit. I look down at my hands, knotted in my lap. I just want to understand.

  He sits down beside me. “What do you want to know?” he asks wearily.

  “You don’t have to tell me. I don’t mean to intrude.”

  “Anastasia, it’s not that. I don’t like talking about this shit. I’ve lived in a bubble for years with nothing affecting me and not having to justify myself to anyone. She’s always been there as a confidante. And now my past and my future are colliding in a way I never thought possible.”

  I glance at him and he’s staring
at me, his eyes wide.

  “I never thought I had a future with anyone, Anastasia. You give me hope and have me thinking about all sorts of possibilities.” He drifts off.

  “I was listening,” I whisper and stare back down at my hands.

  “What? To our conversation?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well?” He sounds resigned.

  “She cares for you.”

  “Yes, she does. And I for her in my own way, but it doesn’t come close to how I feel about you. If that’s what this is about.”

  “I’m not jealous.” I’m wounded that he would think that—or am I? Shit. Maybe that’s what this is. “You don’t love her,” I murmur.

  He sighs again. He really is pissed. “A long time ago, I thought I loved her,” he says through gritted teeth.

  Oh. “When we were in Georgia … you said you didn’t love her.”

  “That’s right.”

  I frown.

  “I loved you then, Anastasia,” he whispers. “You’re the only person I’d fly three thousand miles to see.”

  Oh my. I don’t understand. He still wanted me as a sub then. My frown deepens.

  “The feelings I have for you are very different from any I ever had for Elena,” he says by way of explanation.

  “When did you know?”

  He shrugs. “Ironically, it was Elena who pointed it out to me. She encouraged me to go to Georgia.”

  I knew it! I knew it in Savannah. I gaze at him, blankly.

  What do I make of this? Maybe she is on my side and just worried that I’ll hurt him. The thought is painful. I would never want to hurt him. She’s right—he’s been hurt enough.

  Perhaps she’s not so bad. I shake my head. I don’t want to accept his relationship with her. I disapprove. Yes, that’s what this is. She’s an unsavory character who preyed on a vulnerable adolescent, robbing him of his teenage years, no matter what he says.

  “So you desired her? When you were younger.”

  “Yes.”

  Oh.

  “She taught me a great deal. She taught me to believe in myself.”

  Oh. “But she also beat the shit out of you.”

  He smiles fondly. “Yes, she did.”