Freed (Fifty Shades as Told by Christian #3) - E.L. James Page 0,63

I check my e-mails.

From: Dr. John Flynn

Subject: FW: For Christian Grey

Date: July 26 2011 14:53

To: Christian Grey

Christian

I received the attached from Leila Williams. We can discuss when I see you on Thursday.

JF

From: Leila Williams

Subject: For Christian Grey

Date: July 26 2011 06:32 EST

To: Dr. John Flynn

Dearest John

Thank you for your continued support. I cannot begin to tell you what it has meant for me. My parents have embraced me back into the fold. I can hardly believe how considerate they’ve been, given all the trouble I’ve caused them. My divorce from my husband should be final next month. At last I’ll be able to move on with my life.

My only regret is that I haven’t been able to thank Mr. Grey in person. Please pass on this note to him. I would really like to deliver my thanks personally. My life could have taken such a bad turn if not for his and your intervention.

Many thanks

Leila

No fucking way. Leila is the last person in the world I want to see. But I’m glad she’s in a better place and healing, and divorcing the cockroach she married. I delete the e-mail and resolve to push her from my mind.

I buzz Andrea. I need coffee. Stat.

It’s late. The sun has sunk beneath the horizon, and I’m staring at a blank screen in my study.

Vows.

Drafting them is trickier than I thought. Everything I write will be spoken aloud in front of our nearest and dearest, and I’m trying to find the words to express to Ana how I feel about her, how excited I am to share our life together, and how honored I am that she’s chosen me.

Damn it. This is hard.

My thoughts stray to earlier this evening, when Ana and I met with Gia Matteo. Gia wanted our feedback on a few ideas for the new house. Her vision is bold: I like the approach, but I’m not sure that Ana is entirely on board. When we eventually see Gia’s drawn-up plans we’ll be able to judge.

Fortunately, the meeting was brief. And she touched me once, that’s all.

Since then, I’ve been attempting to write my vows while Ana’s been on a call with Alondra Gutierrez. They’ve each been working tirelessly on this wedding.

I just hope it will be everything Ana wants. And, frankly, as long as Ana’s happy, I’m happy.

But most of all, I want to keep her safe.

Life without Ana would be unbearable.

A flurry of images flash unwelcome through my brain: Ana at gunpoint in her old apartment; Ana, not Ros, seated beside me as Charlie Tango drops to the ground; Ana lying pale and unmoving on a squalid once-green rug—

Grey, stop. Stop.

I need to get a handle on my morbid thoughts.

Concentrate, Grey. Focus on where you want to be.

With Ana.

I want to give her the world.

I turn back to my screen, to my vows, and start to type.

Ana looks up when I enter the library, and gives me a sweet but tired smile. She’s been reading a manuscript.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she answers, as I sit down in the armchair beside her and open my arms. She doesn’t hesitate; she uncurls her long legs from beneath her and hops over to me, complete with manuscript, and crawls into my lap. Wrapping her in my arms, I kiss the top of her head and breathe in her scent. She is heaven on earth.

Ana lets out a soft, contented sigh.

She’s so good to hold.

A balm to my senses.

My Ana.

We sit in a comfortable, companionable silence. I could never have imagined doing this even three months ago. No. Two months ago. I’m changed beyond recognition. The residue of doubt and fear I felt earlier melts away. She’s safe, in my arms.

And I’m safe…with her.

Thursday, July 28, 2011

The senior management meeting has gone well; everybody is up to speed on what each division is doing, and what steps need to be taken next. I’m leaving my company in safe hands—but then, I never doubted that for a moment. However, if I’m honest, it still makes me anxious. This is the first time I’ve taken a vacation for more than a few days. As everyone leaves the boardroom, they shake my hand and wish me well. “I’ll be here tomorrow,” I remind Marco.

“Christian, you deserve a break,” he says. “Enjoy your honeymoon.”

“Thank you.”

Blowing out a breath, I scrape a hand through my hair. Why the hell am I so apprehensive? Ros sidles up to me when everyone else has left. “The house. It’s yours.”

“It’s done?”

“Signed and sealed.”

“Great. Thanks