Fifty Shades Trilogy Bundle: Fifty Shades of Grey; Fifty Shades Darker; Fifty Shades Freed (165 page)

I blink at her, slightly shocked. We’re going
clubbing
? I don’t do clubbing.

Kate laughs at my expression. She seems more relaxed now that she’s away from Elliot. “We should throw some shapes this evening,” she says.

“Go try it on,” Mia orders, and reluctantly I head for the changing room.

WHILE I WAIT FOR
Kate and Mia to emerge from the dressing room, I stroll to the shop window and look out, unseeing, across the main street. The soul compilation continues: Dionne Warwick is singing “Walk on By.” Another great song—one of my mother’s favorites. I glance down at The Dress in my hand.
Dress
is perhaps an overstatement. It’s backless and very short, but Mia has declared it a winner, perfect for dancing the night away. Apparently, I need shoes, too, and a large chunky necklace, which we’ll source next. Rolling my eyes, I reflect once more on how lucky I am to have Caroline Acton, my own personal shopper.

Through the boutique window I’m distracted by the sight of Elliot. He has appeared on the other side of the leafy main street, climbing out of a large Audi. He dives into a store as if to duck out of the rain. Looks like a jewelry store … maybe he’s looking for that watch battery. He emerges a few minutes later and not alone—with a woman.

Fuck! He’s talking to Gia!
What the hell is she doing here?

As I watch, they hug briefly and she holds her head back, laughing animatedly at something he says. He kisses her cheek and then runs to the waiting car. She turns and heads down the street, and I gape after her.
What was that about?
I turn anxiously toward the dressing rooms, but there’s still no sign of Kate or Mia.

I glance at Taylor, where he’s waiting outside the store. He catches my eye, then shrugs. He’s witnessed Elliot’s little encounter, too. I blush, embarrassed to have been caught snooping. Turning back, Mia and Kate emerge, both of them laughing. Kate looks at me quizzically.

“What’s wrong, Ana?” she asks. “You gone cold on the dress? You look sensational in it.”

“Um, no.”

“Are you okay?” Kate’s eyes widen.

“I’m fine. Shall we pay?” I head to the cashier, joining Mia, who has chosen two skirts.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.” The young sales assistant—who has more gloss coating her lips than I have ever seen in one place—smiles at me. “That’ll be eight hundred and fifty dollars.”

What? For this scrap of material!
I blink at her and meekly hand over my black Amex.

“Mrs. Grey,” Ms. Lip Gloss purrs.

I follow Kate and Mia in a daze for the next two hours, warring with myself. Should I tell Kate? My subconscious firmly shakes her head. Yes, I should tell her. No, I shouldn’t. It could just have been an innocent meeting.
Shit
. What should I do?

“WELL, DO YOU LIKE
the shoes, Ana?” Mia has her fists on her hips.

“Um … yeah, sure.”

I end up with a pair of unfeasibly high Manolo Blahniks with straps that look like they are made from mirrors. They match the dress perfectly and set Christian back just over a thousand dollars. I’m luckier with the long silver chain that Kate insists I buy; it’s a bargain at eighty-four dollars.

“Getting used to having money?” Kate asks, not unkindly, as we walk back to the car. Mia has skipped ahead.

“You know this isn’t me, Kate. I’m kind of uncomfortable about all this. But I’m reliably informed it’s part of the package.” I purse my lips at her, and she puts her arm around me.

“You’ll get used to it, Ana,” she says sympathetically. “You’ll look great.”

“Kate, how are you and Elliot getting along?” I ask.

Her wide blue eyes dart to mine.

Oh no
.

She shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about it now.” She nods toward Mia. “But things are—” She doesn’t finish her sentence.

This is unlike my tenacious Kate.
Shit
. I knew something was up. Do I tell her what I saw? What did I see? Elliot and Miss Well-Groomed-Sexual-Predator talking, hugging, and that kiss on the cheek. Surely they are just old friends? No, I won’t tell her. Not right now. I give her my I-completely-understand-and-will-respect-your-privacy nod. She reaches for my hand and gives it a grateful squeeze, and there it is—a swift glimpse of pain and hurt in her eyes that she quickly stifles with a blink. I feel a sudden surge of protectiveness for my dear friend. What the hell is Elliot Manwhore Grey playing at?

ONCE BACK AT THE
house, Kate decides we deserve cocktails after our shopping extravaganza and whips up some strawberry daiquiris for us. We curl up on the sitting room couches in front of the blazing log fire.

“Elliot has just been a little distant lately,” Kate murmurs, gazing into the flames. Kate and I finally have a moment to ourselves as Mia puts away her purchases.

“Oh?”

“And I think I’m in trouble for getting you into trouble.”

“You heard about that?”

“Yes. Christian called Elliot; Elliot called me.”

I roll my eyes.
Oh, Fifty, Fifty, Fifty
.

“I’m sorry. Christian is … protective. You haven’t seen Elliot since Cocktailgate?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“I really like him, Ana,” she whispers. And for one dreadful minute I think she’s going to cry. This is not like Kate. Does this mean the return of the pink pajamas? She turns to me.

“I’ve fallen in love with him. At first I thought it was just the great sex. But he’s charming and kind and warm and funny. I could see us growing old together—you know … kids, grandkids—the works.”

“Your happily ever after,” I whisper.

She nods sadly.

“Maybe you should talk to him. Try to find some alone time here. Find out what’s eating him.”

Who’s eating him
, my subconscious snarls. I slap her down, shocked at the waywardness of my own thoughts.

“Perhaps you guys could go for a walk tomorrow morning?”

“We’ll see.”

“Kate, I hate seeing you like this.”

She smiles weakly, and I lean over to hug her. I resolve not to mention Gia, though I might mention it to the manwhore himself. How can he mess with my friend’s affections like this?

Mia returns, and we move on to safer territory.

THE FIRE HISSES AND
spits sparks onto the hearth as I feed it the last log. We’re almost out of wood. Even though it’s summer, the fire is very welcome on this wet day.

“Mia, do you know where the wood for the fire is kept?” I ask as she sips her daiquiri.

“I think it’s in the garage.”

“I’ll go find some. It’ll give me an opportunity to explore.”

The rain has eased off when I venture outside and head to the three-car garage adjoining the house. The side door is unlocked and I enter, switching on the light to fight the gloom. The fluorescent strips ping noisily to life.

There’s a car in the garage, and I realize it’s the Audi I saw Elliot in this afternoon. There are also two snowmobiles. But what really grabs my attention are the two trail bikes, both 125cc.
Memories of Ethan bravely endeavoring to teach me how to ride last summer flash through my mind. Unconsciously, I rub my arm where I badly bruised it in a fall.

“You ride?” Elliot asks from behind me.

I whirl around. “You’re back.”

“It would appear so.” He grins, and I realize that Christian might say the same thing to me—but without the huge, heart-melting grin. “Well?” he asks.

Manwhore!
“Sort of.”

“Do you want a go?”

I snort. “Um, no … I don’t think Christian would be very happy if I did.”

“Christian’s not here.” Elliot smirks—
oh, it’s a family trait—
and waves his arm to indicate we’re alone. He strolls toward the nearest bike and swings a long denim-clad leg over the saddle, sitting astride and grabbing the handlebars.

“Christian has, um … issues about my safety. I shouldn’t.”

“You always do what he says?” Elliot has a wicked sparkle in his baby-blue eyes, and I see a glimmer of the bad boy … the bad boy Kate has fallen in love with. The bad boy from Detroit.

“No.” I arch an admonishing brow at him. “But I’m trying to put that right. He has enough to worry about without adding me to the mix. Is he back?”

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t go fishing?”

Elliot shakes his head. “I had some business to deal with in town.”

Business! Holy shit—groomed blonde business!
I inhale sharply and gape at him.

“If you don’t want to ride, what are you doing in the garage?” Elliot is intrigued.

“I’m looking for wood for the fire.”

“There you are. Oh, Elliot—you’re back.” Kate interrupts us.

“Hey, baby.” He smiles broadly.

“Catch anything?”

I scrutinize Elliot’s reaction. “No. I had a few things to take care of in town.” And for one brief moment, I see a flash of uncertainty cross his face.

Oh shit
.

“I came out to see what was keeping Ana.” Kate looks at us, confused.

“We were just shooting the breeze,” Elliot says, and the tension crackles between them.

We all pause as we hear a car pull up outside.
Oh! Christian’s back. Thank heavens
. The garage door opener whirs loudly into action, startling us all, and the door slowly lifts to reveal Christian and Ethan unloading a black flatbed truck. Christian stops when he sees us standing in the garage.

“Garage band?” he asks sardonically as he wanders in, heading straight for me.

I grin. I am relieved to see him. Beneath his wading jacket, he’s wearing the coveralls I sold him at Clayton’s.

“Hi,” he says, looking quizzically at me and ignoring both Kate and Elliot.

“Hi. Nice coveralls.”

“Lots of pockets. Very handy for fishing.” His voice is soft and seductive, for my ears only, and when he gazes down at me, his expression is hot.

I flush, and he smiles a huge, no-holds-barred, all-for-me smile.

“You’re wet,” I murmur.

“It was raining. What are you guys doing in the garage?” Finally he acknowledges that we are not alone.

“Ana came to fetch some wood.” Elliot arches an eyebrow. Somehow he manages to make that sentence sound smutty. “I tried to tempt her to take a ride.” He is master of the double entendre.

Christian’s face falls, and my heart stills.

“She said no. That you wouldn’t like it,” Elliot says kindly—and innuendo-free.

Christian’s gray gaze swings back to me. “Did she, now?” he murmurs.

“Listen, I’m all for standing around discussing what Ana did next, but shall we go back inside?” Kate snaps. She stoops down, snatches up two logs, and turns on her heel, stomping toward the door. Oh shit. Kate is mad—but I know it’s not at me. Elliot sighs and, without a word, follows her out. I gaze after them, but Christian distracts me.

“You can ride a motorcycle?” he asks, his voice laced with disbelief.

“Not very well. Ethan taught me.”

His eyes frost immediately. “You made the right decision,” he says, his voice much cooler. “The ground’s very hard at the moment, and the rain’s made it treacherous and slippery.”

“Where do you want the fishing gear?” Ethan calls from outside.

“Leave it, Ethan—Taylor will take care of it.”

“What about the fish?” Ethan continues, his voice vaguely taunting.

“You caught a fish?” I ask, surprised.

“Not me. Kavanagh did.” And Christian pouts … prettily.

I burst out laughing.

“Mrs. Bentley will deal with that,” he calls back. Ethan grins and heads into the house.

“Am I amusing you, Mrs. Grey?”

“Very much so. You’re wet … Let me run you a bath.”

“As long as you join me.” He leans down and kisses me.

I FILL THE LARGE
egg-shaped tub in the en suite bathroom and pour in some expensive bath oil, which starts to foam immediately. The aroma is heavenly … jasmine, I think. Back in the bedroom, I start to hang The Dress while the bath fills.

“Did you have a good time?” Christian asks as he enters the room. He’s just in a T-shirt and sweatpants, his feet bare. He closes the door behind him.

“Yes,” I murmur, drinking him in. I have missed him. Ridiculous—it’s only been what, a few hours?

He cocks his head to one side and gazes at me. “What is it?”

“I was thinking how much I’ve missed you.”

“You sound like you have it bad, Mrs. Grey.”

“I have, Mr. Grey.”

He strolls toward me until he’s standing in front of me. “What did you buy?” he whispers, and I know it’s to change the topic of conversation.

“A dress, some shoes, a necklace. I spent a great deal of your money.” I glance up at him guiltily.

He’s amused. “Good,” he murmurs and tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “And for the billionth time, our money.” He tugs my chin, releasing my lip from my teeth, and runs his index finger down the front of my T-shirt, down my sternum, between my breasts, down my stomach, and over my belly to the hem.

“You won’t be needing this in the bath,” he whispers, and gripping the hem of my T-shirt in both hands slowly pulls it up. “Lift your arms.”

I comply, not taking my eyes off his, and he drops my T-shirt on the floor.

“I thought we were just having a bath.” My pulse quickens.

“I want to make you good and dirty first. I’ve missed you, too.” He leans down and kisses me.

“SHIT, THE WATER!” I
struggle to sit up, all postorgasmic and dazed.

Christian doesn’t release me.

“Christian, the bath!” I gaze down at him from my prone position across his chest.

He laughs. “Relax—it’s a wet room.” He rolls over and kisses me quickly. “I’ll switch off the faucet.”

He climbs gracefully off the bed and strolls into the bathroom. My eyes greedily follow him all the way. Hmm … my husband, naked and soon to be wet. I bound out of bed.