Freed (Fifty Shades as Told by Christian #3) - E.L. James Page 0,190

I check my e-mails.

From: Anastasia Grey

Subject: Sailing & Soaring & Spanking

Date: September 5 2011 09:18

To: Christian Grey

Husband

You sure know how to show a girl a good time.

I shall of course be expecting this kind of treatment every weekend.

You are spoiling me. I love it.

Your wife

xox

Anastasia Grey

Editor, SIP

At my desk, I respond.

From: Christian Grey

Subject: My Life’s Mission…

Date: September 5 2011 09:25

To: Anastasia Grey

Is to spoil you, Mrs. Grey.

And keep you safe because I love you.

Christian Grey

Smitten CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

Smitten doesn’t cover it. I want to do something special for her birthday, and I wonder what Mrs. Jones has in mind. I’ll talk to her this evening. In the meantime, I’d like to get Ana something other than the car…a gift that requires a little more creative thought.

As I sip my coffee, an idea slowly forms in my mind.

Something to celebrate all our firsts.

When I finish my coffee, her response is in my inbox.

From: Anastasia Grey

Subject: My Life’s Mission…

Date: September 5 2011 09:33

To: Christian Grey

Is to let you—because I love you, too.

Now stop being so sappy.

You are making me cry.

Anastasia Grey

Equally Smitten Editor, SIP

I grin. We’re both smitten.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Astoria Fine Jewelry has outdone itself. My lunchtime quest was a success, and I’m delighted with the gift I’ve bought for Ana. I hope she likes it, too. Glancing at her beautiful face on my office wall, I admire her secret smile as she peers down at me, but as ever, she gives nothing away.

Lord, she is lovely.

I find myself grinning at her portrait like the lovesick fool I am.

A man in love with his wife.

Get a grip, Grey.

My plans for Ana’s birthday are falling into place. Mrs. Jones has volunteered to cook a surprise dinner party for Ana, and I’m waiting to hear if all our guests can make it. I’ve offered to send the jet to collect Carla and Bob, Ray is on, and my siblings have both said yes, but I’ve yet to hear from my folks. Ana knows nothing of this, and the event will be the first surprise party I’ve ever organized. I remember, when I bought my apartment pre-construction, how the real estate agent had waxed lyrical about the expansive entertainment space within. I never thought I’d actually get to use it. That wasn’t my life. And now, two years later, I’m hosting a party.

For my wife. Who knew.

It should be fun.

Perhaps we could take everyone to see the new house on Sunday after lunch and check out how Elliot and his team are doing. Or perhaps we could go before, just Ana and me. Maybe on Friday. I check my schedule, but I’m interrupted by a text from Taylor, and a nanosecond later, an e-mail from Ana. I open the e-mail first.

From: Anastasia Grey

Subject: Visitors

Date: September 6 2011 15:27

To: Christian Grey

Christian

Leila is here to see me. I will see her with Prescott.

I’ll use my newly acquired slapping skills with my now-healed hand, should I need to.

Try, and I mean try, not to worry.

I am a big girl.

Will call once we’ve spoken.

A x

Anastasia Grey

Editor, SIP

What!

Leila?

Fuck!

I dial Ana’s number immediately.

No fucking way is she meeting with Leila.

The phone rings and rings, ignored by Ana, and my blood pressure climbs with each unanswered chime until it reaches a dizzying height. Eventually her voice mail kicks in, asking me to leave a message. I hang up, not trusting myself to speak.

Hell.

I check Taylor’s text.

TAYLOR

Mrs. Grey is meeting with Leila Williams.

Prescott is attending the meeting.

I’m heading to the car.

Prescott must have told him. “Andrea!” My bellow practically shakes the window behind me. I text Taylor back.

You going to SIP?

Andrea doesn’t bother to knock and comes barreling into my office.

“Mr. Grey?”

“Get me Ana’s assistant on the line. Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

What the hell is Leila playing at? She knows this is forbidden. And as for Prescott—Leila is on the watch list, she knows this is prohibited.

My office phone buzzes and Andrea puts Hannah through.

“Mr. Grey, good afternoon.” Hannah sounds irritatingly cheery.

“I need to speak to my wife. Now.” I am not in the mood for pleasantries.

“Oh. Um. I’m afraid she’s in a meeting.”

I’m going to have a coronary. “I’m fully aware of that. Get her out of the meeting.”

“Um. I’m not—”

“Do it, now, or you’re fired,” I seethe through gritted teeth.

“Yes, sir,” she squeaks, and the phone clatters to her desk, the noise an assault on my eardrum.

Shit.

I’m left hanging. Waiting once more for Anastasia Stee—Grey.

My fingers drum a frantic tattoo on my desk.

Perhaps I should just get up and go.

That’s