Fifty Shades Trilogy Bundle: Fifty Shades of Grey; Fifty Shades Darker; Fifty Shades Freed Read online

  I have a tiger by the tail. He’s going to be mad when I get back. My subconscious is glaring at me over her half-moon glasses, a willow switch in her hand. Shit. I think about what little experience I have with men. I’ve never lived with a man before—well, except Ray—and for some reason he doesn’t count. He’s my dad … well, the man I consider my dad.

  And now I have Christian. He’s never really lived with anyone, I think. I’ll have to ask him—if he’s still talking to me.

  But I feel strongly that I should wear what I like. I remember his rules. Yes, this must be hard for him, but he sure as hell paid for this dress. He should have given Neimans better instructions: nothing too short!

  This skirt isn’t that short, is it? I check in the large mirror in the lobby. Damn. Yes, it is quite short, but I’ve made a stand now. And no doubt I’ll have to face the consequences. I wonder idly what he’ll do, but first I need cash.

  I STARE AT MY receipt from the ATM: $51,689.16. That’s $50,000 too much! Anastasia, you’re going to have to learn to be rich, too, if you say yes. And so it begins. I take my paltry fifty dollars and make my way to the store

  I HEAD STRAIGHT TO the kitchen when I arrive back, and I can’t help feeling a frisson of alarm. Christian is still in his study. Jeez, that’s most of the afternoon. I decide my best option is to face him and see how much damage I’ve done. I peek cautiously around his study door. He’s on the phone, staring out the window.

  “And the Eurocopter specialist is due Monday afternoon? … Good. Just keep me informed. Tell them that I’ll need their initial findings either Monday evening or Tuesday morning.” He hangs up and swivels his chair around, but stills when he sees me, his expression impassive.

  “Hi,” I whisper. He says nothing, and my heart free-falls into my stomach. Gingerly I walk into his study and around his desk to where he’s sitting. He still says nothing, his eyes never leaving mine. I stand in front of him, feeling fifty shades of foolish.

  “I’m back. Are you mad at me?”

  He sighs, reaches out for my hand, and pulls me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me. He buries his nose in my hair. “Yes,” he says.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” I curl up in his lap, inhaling his heavenly Christian smell, feeling safe regardless of the fact that he’s mad.

  “Me, neither. Wear what you like,” he murmurs. He runs his hand up my bare leg to my thigh. “Besides, this dress has its advantages.” He bends to kiss me, and as our lips touch, passion or lust or a deep-seated need to make amends lances through me and desire flares in my blood. I seize his head in my hands, thrusting my fingers in his hair. He groans as his body responds, and he hungrily nips at my lower lip—my throat, my ear, his tongue invading my mouth, and before I’m even aware of it he’s unzipping his pants, pulling me astride his lap, and sinking into me. I grasp the back of the chair, my feet just touching the ground … and we start to move.

  “I LIKE YOUR VERSION of sorry,” he breathes into my hair.

  “And I like yours.” I giggle, snuggling against his chest. “Have you finished?”

  “Christ, Ana, you want more?”

  “No! Your work.”

  “I’ll be done in about half an hour. I heard your message on my voice mail.”

  “From yesterday.”

  “You sounded worried.”

  I hug him tightly.

  “I was. It’s not like you not to respond.”

  He kisses my hair.

  “Your cake should be ready in half an hour.” I smile at him and climb off his lap.

  “Looking forward to it. It smelled delicious, evocative even, while it was baking.”

  I smile shyly down at him, feeling a little self-conscious, and he mirrors my expression. Jeez, are we really so different? Perhaps it’s his early memories of baking. Leaning down, I plant a swift kiss on the corner of his mouth and make my way back to the kitchen.

  I AM ALL PREPARED when I hear him come out of his study, and I light the solitary gold candle on his cake. He gives me an earsplitting grin as he saunters toward me, and I softly sing “Happy Birthday” to him. Then he leans over and blows it out, closing his eyes.

  “I’ve made my wish,” he says as he opens them again, and for some reason his look makes me flush.

  “The frosting is still soft. I hope you like it.”

  “I can’t wait to taste it, Anastasia,” he murmurs, and he makes that sound so sexy. I cut us each a slice, and we dig in with small pastry forks.

  “Mmm,” he groans in appreciation. “This is why I want to marry you.”

  And I laugh with relief … he likes it.

  “READY TO FACE MY family?” Christian switches the R8 ignition off. We’re parked in his parents’ driveway.

  “Yes. Are you going to tell them?”

  “Of course. I’m looking forward to seeing their reactions.” He smiles wickedly at me and climbs out of the car.

  It is seven thirty, and though it’s been a warm day, there’s a cool evening breeze blowing off the bay. I pull my wrap around me as I step out of the car. I’m wearing an emerald green cocktail dress I found this morning while I was rummaging through the closet. It has a wide matching belt. Christian takes my hand, and we head to the front door. Carrick opens it wide before he can knock.

  “Christian, hello. Happy birthday, son.” He takes Christian’s proffered hand but pulls him into a brief hug, surprising him.

  “Er … thanks, Dad.”

  “Ana, how lovely to see you again.” He hugs me, too, and we follow him into the house.

  Before we can set foot in the living room, Kate comes barreling down the hallway toward the two of us. She looks furious.

  Oh no!

  “You two! I want to talk to you,” she snarls in her you-better-not-fucking-mess-with-me voice. I glance nervously at Christian, who shrugs and decides to humor her as we follow her into the dining room, leaving Carrick bemused on the threshold of the living room. She shuts the door and turns on me.

  “What the fuck is this?” she hisses and waves a piece of paper at me. Completely at a loss, I take it from her and scan it quickly. My mouth dries. Holy shit. It’s my e-mail response to Christian, discussing the contract.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  * * *

  All the color drains from my face as my blood turns to ice and fear lances through my body. Instinctively I step between her and Christian.

  “What is it?” Christian murmurs, his tone wary.

  I ignore him. I cannot believe Kate is doing this.

  “Kate! This has nothing to do with you.” I glare venomously at her, anger replacing my fear. How dare she do this? Not now, not today. Not on Christian’s birthday. Surprised by my response, she blinks at me, green eyes wide.

  “Ana, what is it?” Christian says again, his tone more menacing.

  “Christian, would you just go, please?” I ask him.

  “No. Show me.” He holds out his hand, and I know he’s not to be argued with—his voice is cold and hard. Reluctantly I give him the e-mail.

  “What’s he done to you?” Kate asks, ignoring Christian. She looks so apprehensive. I flush as myriad erotic images flit quickly across my mind.

  “That’s none of your business, Kate.” I can’t keep the exasperation out of my voice.

  “Where did you get this?” Christian asks, his head cocked to one side, his face expressionless, but his voice … so menacingly soft. Kate flushes.

  “That’s irrelevant.” At his stony glare, she hastily continues. “It was in the pocket of a jacket—which I assume is yours—that I found on the back of Ana’s bedroom door.” Faced with Christian’s burning gray gaze, Kate’s steeliness slips a little, but she seems to recover and scowls at him.

  She’s a beacon of hostility in a slinky, bright red dress. She looks magnificent. But why the hell is she going through my clothes? It’s usually the other way around.

  “Have you told anyone?” Christian’s voice
is like a silk glove.

  “No! Of course not,” Kate snaps, affronted. Christian nods and appears to relax. He turns and heads toward the fireplace. Wordlessly Kate and I watch as he picks up a lighter from the mantelpiece, sets fire to the e-mail, and releases it, letting it float afire slowly into the grate until it is no more. The silence in the room is oppressive.

  “Not even Elliot?” I ask, turning my attention back to Kate.

  “No one,” Kate says emphatically, and for the first time she looks puzzled and hurt. “I just want to know you’re okay, Ana,” she whispers.

  “I’m fine, Kate. More than fine. Please, Christian and I are good, really good—this is old news. Please ignore it.”

  “Ignore it?” she says. “How can I ignore that? What’s he done to you?” And her green eyes are so full of heartfelt concern.

  “He hasn’t done anything to me, Kate. Honestly—I’m good.”

  She blinks at me.

  “Really?” she asks.

  Christian wraps an arm around me and draws me close, not taking his eyes off Kate.

  “Ana has consented to be my wife, Katherine,” he says quietly.

  “Wife!” Kate squeaks, her eyes widening in disbelief.

  “We’re getting married. We’re going to announce our engagement this evening,” he says.

  “Oh!” Kate gapes at me. She’s stunned. “I leave you alone for sixteen days, and this happens? It’s very sudden. So yesterday, when I said—” She gazes at me, lost. “Where does that e-mail fit into all this?”

  “It doesn’t, Kate. Forget it—please. I love him and he loves me. Don’t do this. Don’t ruin his party and our night,” I whisper. She blinks and unexpectedly her eyes are shining with tears.

  “No. Of course I won’t. You’re okay?” She wants reassurance.

  “I’ve never been happier,” I whisper. She reaches forward and grabs my hand regardless of Christian’s arm wrapped around me.

  “You really are okay?” she asks hopefully.

  “Yes.” I grin at her, my joy returning. She’s back onside. She smiles at me, my happiness reflecting back on her. I step out of Christian’s hold, and she hugs me suddenly.

  “Oh, Ana—I was so worried when I read this. I didn’t know what to think. Will you explain it to me?” she whispers.

  “One day, not now.”

  “Good. I won’t tell anyone. I love you so much, Ana, like my own sister. I just thought … I didn’t know what to think. I’m sorry. If you’re happy, then I’m happy.” She looks directly at Christian and repeats her apology. He nods at her, his eyes glacial, and his expression does not change. Oh, shit, he’s still mad.

  “I really am sorry. You’re right, it’s none of my business,” she whispers to me.

  There’s a knock on the door that startles Kate and I apart. Grace pokes her head around.

  “Everything okay, darling?” she asks Christian.

  “Everything’s fine, Mrs. Grey,” Kate says immediately.

  “Fine, Mom,” Christian says.

  “Good.” Grace enters. “Then you won’t mind if I give my son a birthday hug.” She beams at both of us. He hugs her tightly and thaws immediately.

  “Happy birthday, darling,” she says softly, closing her eyes in his embrace. “I’m so glad you’re still with us.”

  “Mom, I’m fine.” Christian smiles down at her. She pulls back, looks at him closely, and grins.

  “I’m so happy for you,” she says and caresses his face.

  He grins at her—his thousand-megawatt smile.

  She knows! When did he tell her?

  “Well, kids, if you’ve all finished your tête-à-tête, there’s a throng of people here to check that you really are in one piece, Christian, and to wish you a happy birthday.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Grace glances anxiously at Kate and me and seems reassured by our smiles. She winks at me as she holds the door open for us. Christian holds out his hand to me and I take it.

  “Christian, I really do apologize,” Kate says humbly. Humble Kate is something to behold. Christian nods at her, and we follow her out.

  In the hallway, I gaze anxiously up at Christian. “Does your mother know about us?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.” And to think our evening could have been derailed by the tenacious Miss Kavanagh. I shudder at the thought—the ramifications of Christian’s lifestyle revealed to all.

  “Well, that was an interesting start to the evening.” I smile sweetly at him. He glances down at me—and it’s back, his amused look. Thank heavens.

  “As ever, Miss Steele, you have a gift for understatement.” He raises my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles as we walk into the living room to a sudden, spontaneous, and deafening round of applause.

  Crap. How many people are here?

  I scan the room quickly: all the Greys, Ethan with Mia, Dr. Flynn and his wife, I assume. There’s Mac from the boat, a tall, handsome African American—I remember seeing him in Christian’s office the first time I met Christian—Mia’s bitchy friend Lily, two women I don’t recognize at all, and … oh no. My heart sinks. That woman … Mrs. Robinson.

  Gretchen materializes with a tray of champagne. She’s wearing a low-cut black dress, hair in an updo instead of pigtails, flushing and fluttering her eyelashes at Christian. The applause dies down, and Christian squeezes my hand as all eyes turn to him expectantly.

  “Thank you, everyone. Looks like I’ll need one of these.” He grabs two drinks off Gretchen’s tray and gives her a brief smile. I think Gretchen’s going to expire or swoon. He hands a glass to me.

  Christian raises his glass to the rest of the room, and immediately everyone surges forward. Leading the charge is the evil woman in black. Does she ever wear any other color?

  “Christian, I was so worried.” Elena gives him a brief hug and kisses both his cheeks. He doesn’t let me go despite the fact I try to free my hand.

  “I’m good, Elena,” Christian mutters coolly.

  “Why didn’t you call me?” Her plea is desperate, her eyes searching his.

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Didn’t you get my messages?”

  Christian shifts uncomfortably and pulls me closer, putting his arm around me. His face remains impassive as he regards Elena. She can no longer ignore me, so she nods politely in my direction.

  “Ana,” she purrs. “You look lovely, dear.”

  “Elena,” I purr back. “Thank you.”

  I catch Grace’s eye. She frowns, watching the three of us.

  “Elena, I need to make an announcement,” Christian says, eyeing her dispassionately.

  Her clear blue eyes cloud. “Of course.” She fakes a smile and steps back.

  “Everyone,” Christian calls. He waits for a moment until the buzz in the room dies down and all eyes are once more on him.

  “Thank you for coming today. I have to say I was expecting a quiet family dinner, so this is a pleasant surprise.” He stares pointedly at Mia, who grins and gives him a little wave. Christian shakes his head in exasperation and continues.

  “Ros and I”—he acknowledges the red-haired woman standing nearby with a small bubbly blonde—“we had a close call yesterday.”

  Oh, that’s the Ros that works with him. She grins and raises her glass to him. He nods back at her.

  “So I’m especially glad to be here today to share with all of you my very good news. This beautiful woman”—he glances down at me—“Miss Anastasia Rose Steele, has consented to be my wife, and I’d like you all to be the first to know.”

  There are general gasps of astonishment, the odd cheer, and then a round of applause! Jeez—this is really happening. I think I am the color of Kate’s dress. Christian grasps my chin, lifts my lips to his, and kisses me quickly.

  “You’ll soon be mine.”

  “I am already,” I whisper.

  “Legally,” he mouths at me and gives me a wicked grin.

 
; Lily, who is standing beside Mia, looks crestfallen; Gretchen looks like she’s eaten something nasty and bitter. As I glance anxiously around at the assembled crowd, I catch sight of Elena. Her mouth is open. She’s stunned—horrified even, and I can’t help a small but intense feeling of satisfaction to see her dumbstruck. What the hell is she doing here, anyway?

  Carrick and Grace interrupt my uncharitable thoughts, and soon I am being hugged and kissed and passed around by all the Greys.

  “Oh, Ana—I am so delighted you’re going to be family,” Grace gushes. “The change in Christian … He’s … happy. I am so thankful to you.” I blush, embarrassed by her exuberance but secretly delighted, too.

  “Where is the ring?” exclaims Mia as she embraces me.

  “Um …” A ring! Jeez. I hadn’t even thought about a ring. I glance up at Christian.

  “We’re going to choose one together.” Christian glowers at her.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Grey!” she scolds him, then wraps her arms around him. “I’m so thrilled for you, Christian,” she says. She’s the only person I know who is not intimidated by the Grey glower. It has me quailing … Well, it certainly used to.

  “When will you get married? Have you set a date?” She beams up at Christian.

  He shakes his head, his exasperation palpable. “No idea, and no we haven’t. Ana and I need to discuss all that,” he says irritably.

  “I hope you have a big wedding—here,” she beams enthusiastically, ignoring his caustic tone.

  “We’ll probably fly to Vegas tomorrow,” he growls at her, and he’s rewarded with a full-on Mia Grey pouty grimace. Rolling his eyes, he turns to Elliot, who gives him his second bear hug in as many days.

  “Way to go, bro.” He claps Christian’s back.

  The response from the room is overwhelming, and it’s a few minutes before I find myself back beside Christian with Dr. Flynn. Elena seems to have disappeared, and Gretchen is sullenly refilling champagne glasses.

  Beside Dr. Flynn is a striking young woman with long, dark, almost black hair, impressive cleavage, and lovely hazel eyes.