Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian

Chapter 93

Ana takes a photograph, with the flash on, surprising me. I blink the blur of the bright lights out of my

eyes and watch as she switches the flash off.

“How are you, Mrs. Grey?” I ask.

“Sad to be going home.” She pouts. “I like having you to myself.”

I take her hand and kiss her knuckles in turn. “Me, too,” I whisper.

“But?” she asks.

Damn. She heard my unspoken doubt. Her eyes narrow, shrewd and interrogative. She’s not going to

let this go until I tell her. I sigh. “I want this arsonist caught and out of our lives.”

“Oh.”

Exactly.

“I’ll have Welch’s balls on a platter if he lets anything like that happen again.” My tone sounds cold and Belonging to NôvelDrama.Org.

sinister, even to me.

But this has gone on too long. We need to catch the fucker.

Ana gapes at me, then raises the camera and takes a quick shot. “Gotcha.”

I smile, relieved that she’s lightened the mood. “I think it’s time to board our flight. Come.”

“Sawyer, can we go through the front?” I ask, and he pulls the Audi up to the curb outside Escala.

Taylor climbs out and opens my door. Ana is fast asleep.

“Thanks, Taylor,” I say as I stretch my legs. “It’s good to be back.”

“It is, sir.”

“I’ll wake Ana.” Opening her door, I lean over her. “Hey, sleepyhead, we’re home.” I unbuckle her seat

belt.

“Hmm,” she hums, and I lift her into my arms. “Hey, I can walk,” she grumbles sleepily.

Oh, no, baby. “I need to carry you over the threshold.”

She puts her arms around my neck. “Up all thirty floors?”

“Mrs. Grey, I am very pleased to announce that you’ve put on some weight.”

“What?”

“So, if you don’t mind, we’ll use the elevator.”

Taylor opens the doors to the Escala lobby and smiles. “Welcome home, Mr. Grey, Mrs. Grey.”

“Thanks, Taylor,” I answer.

We head into the lobby. “What do you mean I’ve put on weight?” Ana glares at me.

She’s pissed.

“Not much.” I grin to reassure her. Tightening my hold on her as I walk to the elevator, I recall how she

looked when I picked her up from SIP, after we split up. How thin and sad she was. The memory is

sobering.

“What is it?” she asks.

“You’ve put on some of the weight you lost when you left me.” My answer is quiet. That was me. I was

responsible for her sadness.

I never want to see her like that again.

I press the call button.

“Hey.” Ana caresses my face and her fingers entwine in my hair. “If I hadn’t gone, would you be

standing here, like this, now?”

And just like that, she pours oil on my troubled waters.

“No.” I smile. Because it’s true. I step into the elevator, holding my wife, and lightly brush my lips over

hers. “No, Mrs. Grey, I wouldn’t. But I would know I could keep you safe, because you wouldn’t defy

me.”

“I like defying you,” she says with her coquettish smile.

I chuckle. “I know. And it’s made me so happy.”

“Even though I’m fat?” She pouts.

I laugh. “Even though you’re fat.” My lips capture hers once more, and she tightens her hold on my hair

as we lose ourselves in each other.

The elevator pings, and we are back at Escala for the first time as husband and wife. “Very happy,” I

whisper, my body stirring. I carry her into the foyer and I want to bypass everything and everyone and

take her to bed. “Welcome home, Mrs. Grey.” I kiss her once more.

“Welcome home, Mr. Grey.” Her face is alight with joy.

I carry her into the main living room and set her down on the kitchen island. From the cupboard, I take

down two champagne flutes, and from the fridge I retrieve a chilled bottle of Grand Année Bollinger, our

favorite rosé. Opening the bottle with a quick twist of the cork, I pour the pale pink sparkling liquid into

each glass. I hand one to Ana, who’s still sitting on the counter, and stand between her legs. “Here’s to

us, Mrs. Grey.”

“To us, Mr. Grey,” she answers with a shy smile.

We clink glasses and each take a sip.

“I know you’re tired.” I run my nose against hers. “But I’d really like to go to bed, and not to sleep.” I kiss

the corner of her sweet mouth. “It’s our first night back here, and you’re really mine.”

She moans, closes her eyes, and raises her head, giving me access to her throat.

Ana. You goddess.

My love.

My life.

My wife.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

I’m expecting the smooth roll of the Fair Lady as she floats on the Mediterranean, and the sounds of

the crew readying her for the day. But when I open my eyes, I’m at home. Outside, the golden dawn

heralds a beautiful morning, and beneath my arm Ana tenses. She’s staring at the ceiling, trying to stay

still.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper.

Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment she looks lost. “Nothing.” Her face softens as she smiles. “Go

back to sleep.” My dick responds enthusiastically to her smile, far more roused than me. Blinking, I rub

my face and stretch my limbs in an effort to wake my mind and the rest of my body.

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