Freed (Fifty Shades as Told by Christian #3) - E.L. James Page 0,211

“Christian, I don’t have anything dressy to wear.”

Oh, ye of little faith, Ana.

In the bedroom, I open the closet door. There, hanging where Sawyer said it would be, is a dress bag.

“Taylor?” Ana’s surprised.

“Christian,” I state, feeling a little aggrieved that she would doubt me.

She laughs, in that indulgent way she has sometimes, unzips the bag, and takes out the dress. She draws a sharp breath as she holds it up. “It’s lovely,” she says. “Thank you. I hope it fits.”

“It will.” I hope. “And here.” From the depths of the closet I retrieve the box. “Shoes to match.”

High-heeled fuck-me pumps. My favorite.

“You think of everything. Thank you.” She kisses me, a sweet, chaste peck, and I flash her a quick grin, pleased.

“I do.” I hand her a second, smaller Nordstrom bag that weighs nothing and seems to be all tissue. Ana ferrets around inside and discovers the black lace lingerie to complement the dress. Tilting her chin up, I plant a soft kiss on her lips. “I look forward to taking this off you later.”

“So do I,” she whispers, and her words inspire my cock.

Not now, Grey.

“Shall I run you a bath?” I ask.

“Please.”

While Ana is soaking in the tub, I check with the hotel that all of Andrea’s arrangements are in place. It seems she’s thought of everything, right down to the decorations.

Give the woman a raise, Grey.

I have to wait for Ana, so I open my laptop, pull up Geolumara’s P&L, and spend several minutes running through it.

Hmm…their sales could be better—but their cash deposits are healthy, given it’s a fairly new company. However, with their considerable expenses their profit margins aren’t as high as I would expect. We can get them there. I make a few notes of what we could do, until the sound of a hair dryer coming to life next door pulls me from the spreadsheet.

I’ve lost track of time.

Ambling into the bedroom I find a squeaky clean Ana sitting on the edge of the bed wrapped in a towel, drying her hair. “Here, let me,” I offer, and point to the chair by the dressing table.

“Dry my hair?” Her disbelief is obvious.

Ana, this is not my first rodeo.

But I’m not sure she’d like to hear that I used to do this for my submissives as a reward for good behavior.

“Come,” I coax her. She seats herself in the chair, throwing me a quizzical look in the mirror. But as I brush her hair she surrenders herself to my ministrations. It’s an absorbing task, and I soon find myself lost in it…detangling strands of her hair, then drying them. It takes me back, much further back than I want to go.

To a small, shabby room in a slum in Detroit.

I halt those thoughts immediately.

“You’re no stranger to this.” Ana interrupts my reverie, and I smile at her in the mirror, but say nothing.

You don’t want to know, Ana.

When I’m finished, her hair is soft and lush, capturing the light from a lamp on the dressing table.

Beautiful.

“Thank you,” she says, shaking her head and letting her hair tumble down her back. I drop a kiss on her naked shoulder and tell her that I’ll have a quick shower. She smiles, though I see her sadness and it makes me wonder if I’ve made the right decision to host this party.

Hell.

These thoughts weigh heavily on me as I step under the cascade of hot water.

So much so that I offer a silent prayer to God.

Make Ray better.

Please, Lord.

When I come out of the bathroom, Ana’s waiting for me. She looks stunning. The dress fits perfectly, accentuating her beautiful body, and the bracelet sparkles on her wrist. She does a quick twirl, then stops so I can zip her up. “You look gorgeous, as you should on your birthday,” I whisper.

She turns and places her hands on my naked chest. “So do you.” She peeks up at me, through long lashes, in that way that heats my blood.

Ana.

“I’d better get dressed, before I change my mind about dinner and unzip that dress.”

“You chose well, Mr. Grey.”

“You wear it well, Mrs. Grey.”

Mia has texted to let me know everyone has gathered in the room. Squeezing Ana’s hand as we step out of the elevator onto the mezzanine level, I hope she likes surprises. I steer us toward the private dining rooms, my stunning wife seemingly oblivious to the admiring glances she’s attracting. At the end of the corridor, I pause for the briefest moment before I open