Fifty Shades Freed (45 page)

“Oh? Why?” Kate tilts her head to one side, and I know she’s in full Nancy Drew mode.

“He made at pass at me,” I mutter. I try to kick Kate’s ankle beneath the table, and miss. Shit!

“When?” Kate glares at me.

“Ages ago.”

“You never told me he made a pass at you!” she splutters.

I shrug, apologetically.

“It can’t just be a grudge about that, surely. I mean his reaction is way too extreme,” Kate continues, but now she directs her questions at Christian. “Is he mentally unstable? What about all the information he has on you Greys?” Her grilling Christian this way makes my hackles rise, but she’s already established I know nothing so she can’t ask me. The thought is annoying.

“We think there’s a connection with Detroit,” Christian says mildly. Too mildly.
Oh no, Kate, please give it up for now.

“Hyde is from Detroit, too?”

Christian nods.

The plane accelerates, and I tighten my grip on Christian’s hand. He glances at me reassuringly. He knows I hate takeoffs and landings. He squeezes my hand and his thumb strokes my knuckles, calming me.

“What
do
you know about him?” Elliot asks, oblivious to the fact we are hurtling down the runway in a small jet about to launch itself into the sky, and equally oblivious to Christian’s growing exasperation with Kate. Kate leans forward, listening attentively.

“This is off the record,” Christian says directly to her. Kate’s mouth sets in a subtle but thin line. I swallow.
Oh shit.

“We know a little about him,” Christian continues. “His dad died in a brawl in a bar. His mother drank herself into oblivion. He was in and out of foster homes as a kid . . . in and out of trouble, too. Mainly boosting cars. Spent time in juvie. His mom got back on track through some outreach program, and Hyde turned himself around. Won a scholarship to Princeton.”

“Princeton?” Kate’s curiosity is piqued.

“Yep. He’s a bright boy.” Christian shrugs.

“Not that bright. He got caught,” Elliot mutters.

“But surely he can’t have pulled this stunt alone?” Kate asks.

Christian stiffens beside me. “We don’t know yet.” His voice is very quiet.
Holy crap.
There could be someone working with him? I turn and gape in horror at Christian. He squeezes my hand once more but doesn’t look me in the eye. The plane lifts smoothly into the air, and I get that horrible sinking feeling in my stomach.

“How old is he?” I ask Christian, leaning close so only he can hear. Much as I’d like to know what’s going on, I don’t want to encourage Kate’s questions. I know they’re irritating Christian, and I’m sure she’s on his shit list since Cocktailgate.

“Thirty-two. Why?”

“Curious, that’s all.”

Christian’s jaw tightens. “Don’t be curious about Hyde. I’m just glad the fucker’s locked up.” It’s almost a reprimand, but I choose to ignore his tone.

“Do
you
think he’s working with someone?” The thought that someone else might be involved makes me sick. It would mean this isn’t over.

“I don’t know,” Christian answers, and his jaw tightens once more.

“Maybe someone who has a grudge against you?” I suggest. Holy shit. I hope it’s not the bitch troll. “Like Elena?” I whisper. I realize I’ve muttered her name out loud, but only he can hear. I glance anxiously at Kate, but she’s deep in conversation with Elliot who looks pissed at her. Hmm.

“You do like to demonize her, don’t you?” Christian rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disgust. “She may hold a grudge, but she wouldn’t do this kind of thing.” He pins me with a steady gray gaze. “Let’s not discuss her. I know she’s not your favorite topic of conversation.”

“Have you confronted her?” I whisper, not sure if I really want to know.

“Ana, I haven’t spoken to her since my birthday party. Please, drop it. I don’t want to talk about her.” He raises my hand and brushes my knuckles with his lips. His eyes burn into mine, and I know I shouldn’t pursue this line of questioning right now.

“Get a room,” Elliot teases. “Oh right—you already have, but you didn’t need it for long.” He smirks.

Christian glances up and pins Elliot with a cool glare. “Fuck off, Elliot,” he says without malice.

“Dude, just telling you how it is.” Elliot’s eyes light up with mirth.

“Like you’d know,” Christian murmurs sardonically, raising an eyebrow.

Elliot grins, enjoying the banter. “You married your first girlfriend.” Elliot gestures at me.

Oh shit. Where is this going? I flush.

“Can you blame me?” Christian kisses my hand again.

“No.” Elliot laughs and shakes his head.

I flush, and Kate slaps Elliot’s thigh.

“Stop being an ass,” she scolds him.

“Listen to your girlfriend,” Christian says to Elliot, grinning, and his earlier concern seems to have disappeared. My ears pop as we gain altitude, and the tension in the cabin dissipates as the plane levels out. Kate scowls at Elliot. Hmm . . . is something up between them? I’m not sure.

Elliot is right. I snort at the irony. I am—was—Christian’s first girlfriend, and now I’m his wife. The fifteen and the evil Mrs. Robinson—they don’t count. But then Elliot doesn’t know about them, and clearly Kate hasn’t told him. I smile at her, and she gives me a conspiratorial wink. My secrets are safe with Kate.

“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be cruising at an altitude of approximately thirty-two thousand feet, and our estimated flight time is one hour and fifty-six minutes,” Stephan announces. “You are now free to move around the cabin.”

Natalia appears abruptly from the galley.

“May I offer anyone coffee?” she asks.

We land smoothly at Sardy Field at 12:25 p.m. (MST). Stephan brings the plane to a halt a little way from the main terminal, and through the windows I spot a large VW minivan waiting for us.

“Good landing.” Christian grins and shakes Stephan’s hand as we get ready to file out of the jet.

“It’s all about the density altitude, sir.” Stephan smiles back. “Beighley here is good at math.”

Christian nods at Stephan’s first officer. “You nailed it, Beighley. Smooth landing.”

“Thank you, sir.” She grins smugly.

“Enjoy your weekend, Mr. Grey, Mrs. Grey. We’ll see you tomorrow.” Stephan steps aside to let us disembark and taking my hand, Christian leads me down the aircraft steps to where Taylor is waiting by the vehicle.

“Minivan?” says Christian in surprise as Taylor slides open the door.

Taylor gives him a tight, contrite smile and a slight shrug.

“Last minute, I know,” Christian says, immediately placated. Taylor returns to the plane to retrieve our luggage.

“Want to make out in the back of the van?” Christian murmurs to me, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

I giggle. Who is this man, and what has he done with Mr. Unbelievably Angry of the last couple of days?

“Come on, you two. Get in,” Mia says from behind us, oozing impatience beside Ethan. We climb in, stagger to the double seat at the back, and sit down. I snuggle against Christian, and he puts his arm around the back of my seat. “Comfortable?” he murmurs as Mia and Ethan take the seat in front of us.

“Yes.” I smile and he kisses my forehead. And for some unfathomable reason I feel shy with him today.
Why?
Last night? Being with company? I can’t put my finger on it.

Elliot and Kate join us last as Taylor opens the liftgate to load the luggage. Five minutes later, we are on our way.

I gaze out the window as we head toward Aspen. The trees are green, but a whisper of the coming fall is evident here and there in the yellowing tips of the leaves. The sky is a clear crystal blue, though there are darkening clouds to the west. All around us in the distance loom the Rockies, the highest peak directly ahead. They’re lush and green, and the highest are capped with snow and look like a child’s drawing of mountains.

We’re in the winter playground of the rich and famous.
And I own a house here
. I can barely believe it. And from deep within my psyche, the familiar unease that’s always present when I try to wrap my head around Christian’s wealth looms and taunts me, making me feel guilty. What have I done to deserve this lifestyle? I’ve done nothing, nothing except fall in love.

“Have you been to Aspen before, Ana?” Ethan turns and asks, dragging me out of my reverie.

“No, first time. You?”

“Kate and I used to come here a lot when we were teens. Dad’s a keen skier. Mom less so.”

“I’m hoping my husband will teach me how to ski.” I glance up at my man.

“Don’t bet on it,” Christian mutters.

“I won’t be that bad!”

“You might break your neck.” His grin gone.

Oh.
I don’t want to argue and sour his good mood, so I change the subject. “How long have you had this place?”

“Nearly two years. It’s yours now, too, Mrs. Grey,” he says softly.

“I know,” I whisper. But somehow I don’t feel the courage of my convictions. Leaning in, I kiss his jaw and nestle once more at his side listening to him laugh and joke with Ethan and Elliot. Mia chimes in occasionally, but Kate is quiet, and I wonder if she’s brooding about Jack Hyde or something else. Then I remember. Aspen . . . Christian’s house here was redesigned by Gia Matteo and rebuilt by Elliot. I wonder if that’s what’s preoccupying Kate. I can’t ask her in front of Elliot, given his history with Gia. Does Kate even know about Gia’s connection to the house? I frown wondering what could be bothering her and resolve to ask her when we’re on our own.

We drive through the center of Aspen and my mood brightens as I take in the town. There are squat buildings of mostly red brick, Swiss-style chalets, and numerous little turn of the century houses painted in fun colors. Plenty of banks and designer shops, too, betraying the affluence of the local populace. Of course Christian fits in here.

“Why did you choose Aspen?” I ask him.

“What?” He regards me quizzically.

“To buy a place.”

“Mom and Dad used to bring us here when we were kids. I learned to ski here, and I like the place. I hope you do, too—otherwise we’ll sell the house and choose somewhere else.”

Simple as that!

He tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. “You look lovely today,” he murmurs.

My cheeks heat. I’m just wearing my travelling gear: jeans and a T-shirt with a lightweight navy blue jacket.
Damn it.
Why does he make me feel shy?

He kisses me, a tender, sweet, loving kiss.

Taylor drives us on out of town, and we start to climb the other side of the valley, twisting along a mountain road. The higher we go, the more excited I get, and Christian tenses beside me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as we round a bend.

“I hope you like it,” he says quietly. “We’re here.”

Taylor slows and turns through a gateway made of gray, beige, and red stones. He heads down the driveway and finally pulls up outside the impressive house. Double fronted with high-pitched roofs and built of dark wood and the same mixed stone as the gateway. It’s stunning—modern and stark, very much Christian’s style.

“Home,” he mouths at me as our guests start piling out of the van.

“Looks good.”

“Come. See,” he says, an excited, though anxious, gleam in his eyes as if he’s about to show me his science project or something.

Mia runs up the steps to where a woman stands in the doorway. She’s tiny and her raven-colored hair is dusted with gray. Mia flings her arms around her neck and hugs her tightly.

“Who’s that?” I ask as Christian helps me out of the van.

“Mrs. Bentley. She lives here with her husband. They look after the place.”

Holy cow . . . more staff?

Mia is making introductions—Ethan, then Kate. Elliot hugs Mrs. Bentley, too. As Taylor unloads the van, Christian takes my hand and leads me to the front door.