Fifty Shades Freed (Fifty Shades #3)(34)
Author: E.L. James

"Like the bright blue shutters in the South of France," I murmur to Christian, who is watching me intently. He takes a sip of wine and shrugs, very noncommittal. Hmm. He doesn’t like that idea but he doesn’t overrule me, shout me down or make me feel stupid. God, this man is a mass of contradictions. His words from yesterday come to mind: "I want this house to be the way you want. Whatever you want. It’s yours." He wants me to be happy – happy in everything I do. Deep down I think I know this. It’s just – I stop myself. Don’t think about our argument now. My subconscious glares at me. Gia is looking at Christian, waiting for him to make the decision. I watch as her pupils dilate and her glossed lips part. Her tongue darts quickly over her top lip before she takes a sip of her wine. When I turn to Christian, he’s still looking at me – not at her at all. Yes! My inner goddess fist pumps the air. I am going to have words with Ms. Matteo.

"Ana, what do you want to do?" Christian murmurs, very clearly deferring to me.

"I like the deck idea."

"Me, too."

I turn back to Gia. Hey, lady, look at me, not him. I’m the one making the decisions on this. "I think I’d like to see revised drawings showing the bigger deck and pillars that are in keeping with the house."

Reluctantly, Gia drags her greedy eyes away from my husband and smiles down at me. Does she think I’m not going to notice?

"Sure," she acquiesces pleasantly. "Any other issues?"

Other than you eye-fucking my husband? "Christian wants to remodel the master suite," I murmur.

There’s a discreet cough from the entrance to the great room. We three turn as one to find Taylor standing there.

"Taylor?" Christian asks.

"I need to confer with you on an urgent matter, Mr. Grey."

Christian clasps my shoulders from behind and addresses Gia.

"Mrs. Grey is in charge of this project. She has absolute carte blanche. Whatever she wants, it’s hers. I completely trust her instincts – she’s very shrewd." His voice alters subtly. In it I hear pride and a veiled warning – a warning to Gia?

He trusts my instincts? Oh, this man’s exasperating. My instincts let him run roughshod over my feelings this afternoon. I shake my head in frustration but I’m grateful that he’s telling Miss Provocative-AndUnfortunately-Good-At-Her-Job just who’s in charge. Reaching up, I caress his hand as it rests on my shoulder.

"If you’ll excuse me." Christian squeezes my shoulders before following Taylor. I wonder idly what’s going on.

"So – the master suite?" Gia asks nervously.

I gaze up at her, pausing for a moment to ensure that Christian and Taylor are out of earshot. Then calling on all my inner strength and the fact that I’ve been seriously piqued for the last five hours, I let her have it.

"You’re right to be nervous, Gia, because right now your work on this project hangs in the balance. But I’m sure we’ll be fine as long as you keep your hands off my husband."

She gasps.

"Otherwise, you’re fired. Understand?" I enunciate each word clearly.

She blinks rapidly, utterly stunned. She cannot believe what I’ve said . I cannot believe what I’ve just said. But I hold my ground, gazing impassively into her widening brown eyes.

Don’t back down. Don’t back down! I’ve learned this maddening impassive expression from Christian who does impassive like no one else. I know that renovating the Greys’ main residence is a prestigious project for Gia’s architectural firm – a resplendent feather in her cap. She can’t lose this commission. And right now I don’t give a hoot that she’s Elliot’s friend.

"Ana – Mrs. Grey – I – I’m so sorry. I never – " She flushes, unsure what else she can say.

"Let me be clear. My husband is not interested in you."

"Of course," she murmurs, the blood draining from her face.

"As I said, I just wanted to be clear."

"Mrs. Grey, I sincerely apologize if you think . . . I have – " She stops, still floundering for something to say.

"Good. As long as we understand each other, we’ll be fine. Now, I’ll let you know what we have in mind for the master suite, then I’d like a run down on all the materials you intend to use. As you know, Christian and I are determined that this house should be ecologically sustainable, and I’d like to reassure him as to where all the materials are coming from and what they are."

"Of course," she stutters, wide-eyed and frankly a little intimidated by me. This is a first. My inner goddess runs around the arena, waving to the frenzied crowd.

Gia pats her hair into place, and I realize this is a nervous gesture.

"The master suite?" she prompts anxiously, her voice a breathless whisper. Now that I have the upper hand, I feel myself relax for the first time since my meeting with Christian this afternoon. I can do this. My inner goddess is celebrating her inner bitch.

Christian joins us just as we are finishing up.

"All done?" he asks. He puts his arm around my waist and turns to Gia.

"Yes, Mr. Grey," Gia smiles brightly, though her smile looks brittle.

"I’ll have the revised plans to you in a couple of days."

"Excellent. You’re happy?" he asks me directly, his eyes warm and probing. I nod and blush for some reason that I don’t understand.

"I’d better be going," Gia says again too brightly. She offers her hand to me first this time, then to Christian.

"Until next time, Gia," I murmur.

"Yes, Mrs. Grey. Mr. Grey."

Taylor appears at the entrance of the great room.

"Taylor will see you out." My voice is loud enough for him to hear. Patting her hair once more, she turns on her high heels and leaves the great room, followed closely by Taylor.

"She was noticeably cooler," Christian says, looking quizzically at me.

"Was she? I didn’t notice." I shrug, trying to remain neutral. "What did Taylor want?" I ask partly because I’m curious and partly because I want to change the subject.

Frowning, Christian releases me and begins to roll up the plans on the table. "It was about Hyde."

"What about Hyde?" I whisper.

"It’s nothing to worry about, Ana." Abandoning the plans, Christian draws me into his arms. "It turns out he hasn’t been in his apartment for weeks, that’s all." He kisses my hair, then releases me and finishes his task.

Oh.

"So what did you decide on?" he asks, and I know it’s because he doesn’t want me to pursue the Hyde line of inquiry.

"Only what you and I discussed. I think she likes you," I say quietly.

He snorts. "Did you say something to her?" he asks and I flush. How does he know? At a loss what to say, I stare down at my fingers.

"We were Christian and Ana when she arrived, and Mr. and Mrs. Grey when she left." His tone is dry.

"I may have said something," I mumble. When I peek up at him he’s regarding me warmly, and for an unguarded moment he looks . . . pleased. He drops his gaze, shaking his head, and his expression changes.

"She’s only reacting to this face." He sounds vaguely bitter, disgusted even.

Oh Fifty, no!

"What?" He’s bemused by my perplexed expression. His eyes grow wide in alarm. "You’re not jealous, are you?" he asks, horrified. I flush and swallow, then stare down at my knotted fingers. Am I?

"Ana, she’s a sexual predator. Not my type at all. How can you be jealous of her? Of anyone? Nothing about her interests me." When I glance up, he’s gaping at me as if I’ve grown an additional limb. He runs a hand through his hair. "It’s only you, Ana," he says quietly. "It will only ever be you."

Oh my. Abandoning the plans once more, Christian moves toward me and clasps my chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"How can you think otherwise? Have I ever given you any indication that I could be remotely interested in anyone else?" His eyes blaze as he stares into mine.

"No," I whisper. "I’m being silly. It’s just today . . . you . . ." All my conflicting emotions from earlier resurfaces. How can I tell him how confused I am? I’ve been confounded and frustrated by his behavior this afternoon in my office. One minute he wants me to stay at home, the next he’s gifting me a company. How am I supposed to keep up?

"What about me?"

"Oh, Christian" – my bottom lip trembles – "I’m trying to adapt to this new life that I had never imagined for myself. Everything is being handed to me on a plate – the job, you, my beautiful husband, who I never . . . I never knew I’d love this way, this hard, this fast, this . . . indelibly." I take a deep steadying breath, as his mouth drops open.