Fifty Shades Freed (Fifty Shades 3)
From: Katherine L. Kavanagh
Date: August 17, 2011 11:45 PST
To: Anastasia Grey
Subject: OMG!!!!
Ana, just heard about the fire at Christian's office. Do you think it's arson?
K xox
Rose is online! I jump on to my newfound toy - Skype messaging -
and see that she's available. I quickly type a message.
Ana: Hey are you there?
Kate: YES, Ana! How are you? How's the honeymoon? Did you see my e-mail? Does Christian know about the fire?
Ana: I'm good. Honeymoon's great. Yes, I saw your e-mail. Yes, Christian knows.
Kate: I thought he would. News is sketchy on what happened. And Elliot won't tell me anything.
Ana: Are you fishing for a story?
Kate: You know me too well.
Ana: Christian hasn't told me much.
Kate: Elliot heard from Grace!
Oh no - I'm sure Christian doesn't want this broadcast all over Seattle. I try my patented distract-tenacious-Kavanagh technique. Ana: How are Elliot and Ethan?
Kate: Ethan has been accepted into the psych course at Seattle for his master's degree. Elliot is adorable. Ana: Way to go, Ethan.
Kate: How's our favorite ex-dom?
Ana: Kate!
Kate: What?
Ana: YOU KNOW WHAT!
Kate: K. Sorry
Ana: He's fine. More than fine.
Kate: Well, as long as you're happy, I'm happy.
Ana: I'm blissfully happy.
Kate: I have to run. Can we talk later?
Ana: Not sure. See if I am online. Time zones suck!
Kate: They do. Love you, Ana.
Ana: Love you, too. Laters. x
Kate: Laters.
Trust Kate to be on the trail of this story. I roll my eyes and shut Skype down before Christian sees the chat. He wouldn't appreciate the ex-Dom comment - and I'm not sure he's entirely ex . . . I sigh loudly. Kate knows everything, since our tipsy evening three weeks before the wedding when I finally succumbed to the Kavanagh inquisition. It was a relief to finally talk to someone. I glance at my watch. It's been about an hour since dinner, and I am missing my husband. I head back on deck to see if he's finished his work.
I am in the Hall of Mirrors and Christian is standing beside me, smiling down at me with love and affection. You look like an angel. I beam back at him, but when I glance into the looking glass I'm standing on my own and the room is gray and drab. No! My head whips back to his face, to find his smile is sad and wistful. Reaching up, he tucks my hair behind my ear. Then he turns wordlessly and walks away slowly, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the mirrors as he paces the enormous room to the ornate double doors at the end . . . a man on his own, a man with no reflection . . . and I wake, gasping for air, as panic seizes me.
"Hey," he whispers from beside me in the darkness, his voice filled with concern.
Oh, he's here. He's safe. Relief courses through me.
"Oh, Christian," I mumble, trying to bring my pounding heartbeat under control. He wraps me in his arms, and it's only then that I realize I have tears streaming down my face.
"Ana, what is it?" He strokes my cheek, wiping away my tears, and I can hear his anguish.
"Nothing. A silly nightmare."
He kisses my forehead and my tearstained cheeks, comforting me.
"Just a bad dream, baby," he murmurs. "I've got you. I'll keep you safe."
Drinking in his scent, I curl around him, trying to ignore the loss and devastation I felt in my dream, and in that moment, I know that my deepest, darkest fear would be losing him.
Chapter Five
I stir, instinctively reaching over to Christian's side of the bed only to feel his absence. Shit! I wake instantly and look anxiously around the cabin. Christian is watching me from the small, upholstered armchair by the bed. Stooping down, he places something on the floor, then moves and stretches out on the bed beside me. He's dressed in his cutoffs and a gray T-shirt.
"Hey, don't panic. Everything's fine," he says, his voice gentle and soothing - like he's talking to a cornered wild animal. Tenderly, he smooths the hair back from my face and I calm immediately. I see him trying and failing to hide his own concern.
"You've been so jumpy these last couple of days," he murmurs, his eyes wide and serious.
"I'm okay, Christian." I give him my brightest smile because I don't want him to know how worried I am about the arson incident. The painful recollection of how I felt when Charlie Tango was sabotaged and Christian went missing - the hollow emptiness, the indescribable pain - keeps resurfacing; the memory nagging me and gnawing at my heart. Keeping the smile fixed on my face, I try to repress it.
"Were you watching me sleep?"
"Yes," he says gazing at me steadily, studying me. "You were talking."
"Oh?" Shit! What was I saying?
"You're worried," he adds, his eyes filled with concern. I blink at him. Is there nothing I can keep from this man? He leans forward and kisses me between my brows.
"When you frown, a little V forms just here. It's soft to kiss. Don't worry baby, I'll look after you."
"It's not me I'm worried about - it's you," I grumble. "Who's looking after you?"
He smiles indulgently at my tone. "I'm big enough and ugly enough to look after myself. Come. Get up. There's one thing I'd like to do before we head home." He grins at me, a big boyish yes-I'm-reallyonly-twenty-eight grin, and swats my behind. I yelp, startled, and realize that today we're going back to Seattle and my melancholy blossoms. I don't want to leave. I've relished being with him 24-7, and I'm not ready to share him with his company and his family. We've had a blissful honeymoon. With a few ups and downs, I admit, but that's normal for a newly married couple, surely?