Freed (Fifty Shades as Told by Christian #3) - E.L. James Page 0,125

who’s standing in the reception area and talking to a willowy woman with long, out-of-control dark hair.

“Christian Grey,” he says in disbelief.

“Jerry. How are you?”

“Um. Good. This is Elizabeth Morgan, our head of HR.”

“Hi,” I mutter tightly, as we shake hands.

“Mr. Grey. I’ve heard a great deal about you.” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, and I doubt Ana’s confided in her about me—so where she’s heard about me, I don’t know, but I’ve got no time to speculate on this now.

“What can we do for you?” Roach asks, pleasantly.

“I need a quick word with Ms. Steele.”

“Ana? Of course. I’ll take you to her. Follow me.” His fawning small talk leaves a lot to be desired, and I listen with half an ear as we head through the double doors behind reception and through to Ana’s office. I recall her saying that he went a little crazy when he found out that we were engaged. This does not endear him to me. Idly, I wonder how he would feel if he worked for Ana. That would surely make him crazy.

There’s a thought.

That would teach him.

Ana is in Hyde’s old office. I nod in greeting to Sawyer, who’s standing outside, while Roach raps on the door. Ana calls, “Come in.” The office is as small and shabby as I remember—still in need of updating and a lick of paint—though there are flowers on Ana’s desk, and the shelves are ordered and tidy. She’s eating her lunch with a young woman who I assume is her assistant. Both of them gape at me. I turn to her PA. “Hello, you must be Hannah. I’m Christian Grey.”

Hannah leaps to her feet and offers me her hand. “Mr. Grey. H-how nice to m-meet you,” she says as we shake hands. “Can I fetch you a coffee?”

“Please.” I give her a polite smile and she rushes out of the room. I turn to Roach. “If you’ll excuse me, Roach, I’d like a word with Ms. Steele.”

“Of course, Mr. Grey. Ana.” Roach leaves, closing the door behind him. I turn my attention to my wife, who looks guilty—like I’ve caught her doing something illicit—though she’s as lovely as ever.

A little pale, perhaps.

A little hostile, perhaps.

Shit. My anger recedes, leaving anxiety in its wake, as she squares her shoulders.

“Mr. Grey, how nice to see you.” Her smile is saccharine, and I know our honeymoon is over, and I have a fight on my hands. My spirit nosedives once more.

“Ms. Steele, may I sit down?” I nod toward the worn leather chair facing Ana’s desk that’s been vacated by Hannah.

“It’s your company.” Ana offers me the chair with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Yes, it is.” I grin back with an equally saccharine look.

Yes, baby. Mine.

We are circling each other—boxers in a ring—sizing each other up. Dampening down my bitterness, I steel myself for the battle ahead. This issue is important to me. “Your office is very small,” I note as I take the seat.

“It suits me.” Her tone is clipped and irritated; she’s mad at me. “So, what can I do for you, Christian?”

“I’m just looking over my assets.”

“Your assets?” she scoffs. “All of them?”

“All of them. Some of them need rebranding.”

“Rebranding?” Her eyebrows shoot up. “In what way?”

“I think you know.”

She sighs. “Please don’t tell me you have interrupted your day, after three weeks away, to come over here and fight with me about my name.”

That’s exactly what I’ve done.

I cross my legs and remove a speck of lint from my pants, playing for time.

Steady, Grey. “Not exactly fight. No.”

She narrows her eyes. Pissed. “Christian, I’m working.”

“Looked like you were gossiping with your assistant to me.”

“We were going through our schedules,” she hisses, as her cheeks color. “And you haven’t answered my question.”

There’s a knock on the door. “Come in!” Ana yells, surprising us both. Hannah enters, bearing a small tray with coffee, which she places on Ana’s desk.

“Thank you, Hannah,” Ana mutters, subdued.

“Do you need anything else, Mr. Grey?” Hannah asks.

“No, thank you. That’s all.” Deliberately, I give her my most excellent smile. It has the desired effect, and she scuttles out. “Now, Ms. Steele, where were we?”

“You were rudely interrupting my workday to fight with me about my name.” Ana spits the words at me, her fervor taking me by surprise.

She is really mad.

So. Am. I.

She should have told me.

“I like to make the odd impromptu visit. It keeps management on their toes, wives in their place. You know.”

“I had no idea you could