Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian novel Chapter 117

Baby. Don’t sweat this. “Relax. You’ve more than risen to the challenge. You’ve done very well.”

You’re very good at what you do, Anastasia Steele.

“Oh,” she says, and she looks lost.

And it all becomes crystal clear.

This is what she wants.

This is her dream, and I can make it come true.

I vowed I would uphold her dreams during our wedding.

I don’t want to stifle her; I want to help her reach her full potential. I want her to fly…but just not too far away from me.

“I don’t want to suffocate you, Ana. I don’t want to put you in a gilded cage. Well… Well, the rational part of me doesn’t.”

It’s a gamble, but I play my most ambitious hand yet, voicing the idea that I’ve had on the spur of this moment. “So, one of the reasons I’m here—apart from dealing with my errant wife—is to discuss what I am going to do with this company.”

Ana scowls. “So, what are your plans?” Her sarcasm is threaded through each word and she cocks her head to one side, like I do…copying me, laughing at me, I suspect.

God, I love her; she’s recovered her backbone.

“I’m changing the name of the company—to Grey Publishing.”

Ana blinks.

“And in a year’s time, it will be yours.”

Her mouth drops open.

“This is my wedding present to you.”

She shuts her mouth, opens it again, then shuts it again, looking shell-shocked.

“So, do I need to change the name to Steele Publishing?”

“Christian, you gave me a watch. I can’t run a business.”

“I ran my own business from the age of twenty-one.”

“But you’re, you. Control freak and whiz-kid extraordinaire. Jeez, Christian, you majored in economics at Harvard before you dropped out. At least you have some idea. I sold paint and cable ties for three years on a part-time basis, for heaven’s sake. I’ve seen so little of the world, and I know next to nothing!”

Well, that’s not true.

“You’re also the most well-read person I know.” I have to pitch this to her. “You love a good book. You couldn’t leave your job while we were on our honeymoon. You read how many manuscripts? Four?”

“Five,” she whispers.

“And you wrote full reports on all of them. You’re a very bright woman, Anastasia. I’m sure you’ll manage.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Crazy for you.” Always.

She snorts, trying not to laugh. “You’ll be a laughingstock. Buying a company for the little woman, who has only had a full-time job for a few months of her adult life.”

I dismiss her concerns with a wave of my hand. “Do you think I give a fuck what people think? Besides, you won’t be on your own.”

“Christian, I—” She stalls, lost for words, and I cherish the moment—it doesn’t happen often. She lays her head in her hands again. When she looks up, she’s trying not to laugh.

“Something amusing you, Ms. Steele?”

“Yes. You.”

Her amusement is contagious, and I find myself smiling. This is what she does. Disarms me.

Every time.

“Laughing at your husband? That will never do.” Her teeth sink into her lovely lower lip. “And you’re biting your lip,” I mutter darkly; it’s a stirring sight.

She sits back. “Don’t even think about it,” she warns.

“Think about what, Anastasia?”

Fucking you in your office? Lust streaks through my bloodstream like lightning.

“I know that look. We’re at work,” she whispers.

Can’t you feel this, Ana? The sorcery between us is potent. Raw. I lean forward to get closer to her, to catch her scent, to touch her. “We’re in a small, reasonably soundproofed office with a lockable door,” I whisper.

I want to seduce my wife.

“Gross. Moral. Turpitude.” Each word is a bullet forming a shield around her.

“Not with your husband.”

“With my boss’s boss’s boss,” she hisses.