Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian

Chapter 91

“Beloved?” I whisper, wanting to say the word out loud, to hear it ring between us with all its

significance.

“Very much beloved.” She leans up to kiss me.

It’s a relief that she knows the truth and yet she still loves me. My anxiety has evaporated, replaced by

hunger. I smile down at her. “Do you want to go ashore to eat?”

“I want to eat wherever you’re happiest.”

“Good. Aboard is where I can keep you safe. Thank you for my present.” I reach for it and, turning it

around, hold it at arm’s length and snap a picture of the two of us wrapped around each other.

We take coffee post-dinner inside the impressive dining room on the Fair Lady. “What are you thinking

about?” I ask, as Ana looks wistfully out the window.

“Versailles.”

“Ostentatious, wasn’t it?”

Ana looks at our surroundings.

“This is hardly ostentatious,” I observe.

“I know. It’s lovely. The best honeymoon a girl could want.”

“Really?” I smile. Pleased.

“Of course it is.”

“We only have two more days. Is there anything you’d like to see or do?”

“Just be with you,” she says.

I rise and come around the table and drop a kiss on her forehead

“Well, can you do without me for about an hour? I need to check my e-mails, find out what’s happening

at home.”

“Sure,” she says.

“Thank you for the camera.” Property © NôvelDrama.Org.

As I head into the study, I notice that for some reason, I’m feeling far more settled. Could it be the

delicious dinner, the sex, or telling Ana about the arson? It could be a combination of all those. I pull my

phone out of my pocket and notice a missed call from my dad.

“Son,” he says when he answers his phone.

“Hi, Dad.”

“How’s the South of France?”

“It’s great.”

“And Ana?”

“She’s great, too.” I can’t help my smile.

“You sound happy.”

“Yes. The only fly in the ointment is the fire.”

“Your mother told me about that. But not much damage, I hear.”

“No.”

“What’s the matter, Christian?” He adopts a serious tone, probably in response to my monosyllabic

reply.

“It was arson.”

“Shit. Police involved?”

“Yes.”

“Good. This and your helicopter. It’s a lot to deal with.”

“Welch is on it. But we don’t have a clue who it might be. Have you noticed anything unusual?”

“No, I can’t say that I have. But I’ll keep a watchful eye.”

“Do,” I insist.

“Is the jet safe?” he asks.

“The Gulfstream? Yes. I think so.”

“Perhaps you should fly back commercial.”

Why?

“It’s just a thought. I don’t want to worry you. I’ll let you go.”

“Thanks for checking in, Dad.”

“Christian. I’m here for you. Always. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” He hangs up, and I wonder what

he’s going to do with the information I’ve just given him. I don’t dwell on it, but call Ros for an update.

I’m still on the phone when Ana pops her head around the door later. She blows a kiss at me and

leaves me to my conversation with Andrea, who is sorting our flights back to Seattle.

Ana is curled up asleep when I return to our cabin. I slip into bed beside her and pull her into my arms

without waking her. I kiss her hair and close my eyes.

I have to keep her safe. I have to keep her safe…

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Through the lens, I watch my wife sleep soundly at last. Earlier, Ana was talking, begging someone in

her dreams not to go. I wonder who? Me? Where would I go without her? She’s been plagued by

nightmares since the arson at Grey House was confirmed. She’s even taken to sucking her thumb on

the odd occasion while she sleeps. I wonder if it might have been better for us to fly home earlier. But I

was reluctant to leave the tranquility of Fair Lady, and so was Ana. And at least I’ve been able to

comfort her after her night terrors—hold her. Soothe her. Like she holds me, when I have mine.

We have to catch this asshole.

How dare he, or she, frighten my wife.

I’ve taken my father’s advice and we’re flying commercial. It’s been a while for me, but Ana has never

flown international first class, so it will be a new experience for her. We’re leaving out of London, and

I’ve grounded the jet in Nice until it’s had a thorough inspection. I’m not taking any chances, not with

my crew and not with my wife.

Apart from the nightmares, the remaining days of our honeymoon have been blissful. Reading. Eating.

Swimming. Sunbathing on board. Making love. These have been magical days. There’s just one more

activity I want to do, before we go.

I push the shutter and hope that the sound won’t wake her. The camera’s been a welcome gift, and I’ve

rediscovered my passion for photography. We’re in such a splendid, photogenic setting after all; the

Fair Lady is yar.

Ana stirs and stretches her hand out, to my side of the bed, looking for me. The gesture warms my

heart.

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