Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian novel Chapter 133

“Hi! How was your flight?”

“Long. What are you doing with Kate?”

“We’re just going out for a quiet drink.”

Out? With Hyde at large? Fuck!

“Sawyer and the new woman—Prescott—are coming to watch over us,” she says sweetly.

Then I remember. “I thought Kate was coming to the apartment.”

“She is, after a quick drink.”

I sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I’m not in Seattle. If something happens to them…to her, and I’m not there, I’ll never forgive myself.

“Christian, we’ll be fine. I have Ryan, Sawyer, and Prescott here. It’s a quick drink. I’ve seen her only a few times since you and I met. Please. She’s my best friend.”

“Ana, I don’t want to keep you from your friends. But I thought she was coming back to the apartment.”

She sighs. “Okay. We’ll stay in.”

“Only while this lunatic is out there. Please.”

“I’ve said okay,” she mutters, and I know by the tone of her voice she’s exasperated.

I chuckle, relieved that she’s reverting to type. “I always know when you’re rolling your eyes at me.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I’ll tell Kate.”

“Good.” I blow out a breath. I can go about the rest of my day and not worry about her.

“Where are you?”

“On the tarmac at JFK.”

“Oh, so you just landed?”

“Yes. You asked me to call the moment I landed.”

“Well, Mr. Grey, I’m glad one of us is punctilious.”

“Mrs. Grey, your gift for hyperbole knows no bounds. What am I going to do with you?”

“I am sure you’ll think of something imaginative. You usually do,” she whispers.

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Yes.” She sounds breathless and even from this far away, and over the phone her voice is arousing.

I grin. “I’d better go. Ana, do as you’re told, please. The security team knows what they’re doing.”

“Yes, Christian, I will.” I sense more eye rolling.

“I’ll see you tomorrow evening. I’ll call you later.”

“To check up on me?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Christian!” she chides me.

“Au revoir, Mrs. Grey.”

“Au revoir, Christian. I love you.”

Hearing her say those three words will never get old. “And I you, Ana.”

Neither of us hangs up.

“Hang up, Christian,” she murmurs.

“You’re a bossy little thing, aren’t you?”

“Your bossy little thing.”

“Mine,” I whisper. “Do as you’re told. Hang up.”

“Yes, Sir,” she purrs, and hangs up.

And the disappointment is real.

Ana.

I type a quick e-mail.

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Twitching Palms