Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian (Fifty Shades 6)

When she’s out of earshot, I look down at my wife. “She was noticeably cooler.”

“Was she? I didn’t notice.” Ana shrugs, trying and failing miserably to look nonchalant. My wife is an appalling liar. “What did Taylor want?” She’s changing the subject.

Releasing her, I turn and start rolling up the plans. “It was about Hyde.”

“What about Hyde?” She pales.

Shit. I don’t want to add to her nightmares.

“It’s nothing to worry about, Ana.” Abandoning the plans, I draw her into my arms. “It turns out he hasn’t been in his apartment for weeks, that’s all.” I kiss her hair and go back to rolling up Gia’s designs. “So, what did you decide on?”

“Only what you and I discussed. I think she likes you,” Ana says quietly.

I think so, too! “Did you say something to her?”

She stares down at her hands. She’s knotting her fingers.

“We were Christian and Ana when she arrived, and Mr. and Mrs. Grey when she left,” I prompt.

“I may have said something,” she admits.

Oh, baby, you’re going into battle for me?

I’ve met Gia’s type before. Always in a business context. “She’s only reacting to this face.”

Ana looks alarmed.

“What? You’re not jealous, are you?” I’m shocked that she could even think this. Her cheeks color, and she doesn’t answer me, but looks down at her hands again, and I know I have my answer. I remember Elliot alluding to Gia’s nature and it reminded me of Elena—a woman who doesn’t take no for an answer. A woman who gets what she wants. “Ana, she’s a sexual predator. Not my type at all. How can you be jealous of her? Of anyone? Nothing about her interests me.” I run a hand through my hair, at a loss. “It’s only you, Ana. It will only ever be you.”

Abandoning the drawings again, I move quickly toward her and grasp her chin. “How can you think otherwise? Have I ever given you any indication that I could be remotely interested in anyone else?”

“No,” she whispers. “I’m being silly. It’s just today. You—” She stops.

“What about me?”

“Oh, Christian.” Tears well in her eyes. “I’m trying to adapt to this new life, that I had never imagined for myself. Everything is being handed to me on a plate—the job, you, my beautiful husband, who I never…I never knew I’d love this way, this hard, this fast, this…indelibly.”

I stare at her, paralyzed, as she takes a deep breath. “But you’re like a freight train, and I don’t want to get railroaded because the girl you fell in love with will be crushed. And what’ll be left? All that would be left is a vacuous social X-ray, flitting from charity function to charity function.”

Whoa! Ana!

“And now you want me to be a company CEO, which has never even been on my radar. I’m bouncing between all these ideas, struggling. You want me at home. You want me to run a company. It’s so confusing.” She fights down a sob. “You’ve got to let me make my own decisions, take my own risks, and make my own mistakes, and let me learn from them. I need to walk before I can run, Christian, don’t you see? I want some independence. That’s what my name means to me.”

This is about her!

Shit.

“You feel railroaded?” I whisper.

She nods.

I close my eyes. “I just want to give you the world, Ana, everything and anything you want. And save you from it, too. Keep you safe. But I also want everyone to know you’re mine. I panicked today when I got your e-mail. Why didn’t you tell me about your name?”

She flushes. “I only thought about it while we were on our honeymoon, and, well, I didn’t want to burst the bubble, and I forgot about it. I only remembered yesterday evening. And then Jack—you know—it was distracting. I’m sorry, I should have told you or discussed it with you, but I could never seem to find the right time.”

I study her, measuring her words. Yes. It would have resulted in an argument on our honeymoon.

“Why did you panic?” she asks.

I want to be worthy of you and your e-mail derailed me.

Stop, Grey. “I just don’t want you to slip through my fingers.”

“For heaven’s sake, I’m not going anywhere. When are you going to get that through your incredibly thick skull? I. Love. You.” She waves her hand in the air looking for inspiration—like I do. “More than ‘eyesight, space, or liberty.’”

Shakespeare? “A daughter’s love?” I hope not!

“No.” She laughs. “It’s the only quote that came to mind.”

“Mad King Lear?”

“Dear, dear mad King Lear.” She reaches up and strokes my cheek and I lean in to her hand, closing my eyes and reveling in her touch. “Would you change your name to Christian Steele, so everyone would know that you belong to me?”

Opening my eyes, I stare at her. “Belong to you?”