Fifty Shades Freed (Fifty Shades #3)(57)
Author: E.L. James

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 raven-colored hair is dusted with gray. Mia flings her arms around her neck and hugs her tightly.

"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 decor 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.

"Sure." Once again I’m overwhelmed by the wealth. How much did this place cost . . . ? And I have 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?"

"Did you know she had a fling with Elliot?"

Christian gazes at me for a moment, gray eyes unreadable. "Elliot’s f**ked 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 g*y. Celibate, but g*y."

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 g*y.

"Mrs. Grey, are you smirking at me?"

"Maybe a little," I acquiesce. "You know, what I don’t understand is why you have this place?"

"What do you mean?" He kisses my hair.

"You have the boat, which I get, you have the place in New York for business – but why here? It’s not like you shared it with anyone."

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 have 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 wave 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 have 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 doubtfully.

"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 have some lunch – the others will be wondering where we are. We can discuss what we all want to do."