Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian novel Chapter 176

Subject: Visitors

Date: September 6 2011 15:27

To: Christian Grey

Christian

Leila is here to see me. I will see her with Prescott.

I’ll use my newly acquired slapping skills with my now-healed hand, should I need to.

Try, and I mean try, not to worry.

I am a big girl.

Will call once we’ve spoken.

A x

Anastasia Grey

Editor, SIP

What!

Leila?

Fuck!

I dial Ana’s number immediately.

No fucking way is she meeting with Leila.

The phone rings and rings, ignored by Ana, and my blood pressure climbs with each unanswered chime until it reaches a dizzying height. Eventually her voice mail kicks in, asking me to leave a message. I hang up, not trusting myself to speak.

Hell.

I check Taylor’s text.

TAYLOR

Mrs. Grey is meeting with Leila Williams.

Prescott is attending the meeting.

I’m heading to the car.

Prescott must have told him. “Andrea!” My bellow practically shakes the window behind me. I text Taylor back.

You going to SIP?

Andrea doesn’t bother to knock and comes barreling into my office.

“Mr. Grey?”

“Get me Ana’s assistant on the line. Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

What the hell is Leila playing at? She knows this is forbidden. And as for Prescott—Leila is on the watch list, she knows this is prohibited.

My office phone buzzes and Andrea puts Hannah through.

“Mr. Grey, good afternoon.” Hannah sounds irritatingly cheery.

“I need to speak to my wife. Now.” I am not in the mood for pleasantries.

“Oh. Um. I’m afraid she’s in a meeting.”

I’m going to have a coronary. “I’m fully aware of that. Get her out of the meeting.”

“Um. I’m not—”

“Do it, now, or you’re fired,” I seethe through gritted teeth.

“Yes, sir,” she squeaks, and the phone clatters to her desk, the noise an assault on my eardrum.

Shit.

I’m left hanging. Waiting once more for Anastasia Stee—Grey.

My fingers drum a frantic tattoo on my desk.

Perhaps I should just get up and go.

That’s absurd.

Did John speak to Leila?

My BlackBerry buzzes.

TAYLOR

I’m in the car. Outside.

Wait for me.

TAYLOR

Copy.

I don’t understand what Prescott is playing at. How did she let this happen?

The phone scrapes along the desk and is dropped back onto the hard surface, the noise deafening again.

Fucking hell. Hannah is clumsy!

“Um. M-Mr. Grey?”

“Yes.” The word hisses out at her in frustration.

Get on with it!

“Ana says she’s sorry, but she’s b-busy and she’ll c-call you b-back shortly.”

Jesus Christ. She’s a tongue-tied mess.

“Fine,” I snap, and hang up.

Shit. What to do?

Prescott! Of course.

Ana said Prescott would be in the meeting with her. She has a phone, though I don’t think I have her number. “Andrea!” I shout once more, and a moment later she’s in the doorway, her demeanor tentative. “Get me Prescott on her mobile.”

Andrea looks momentarily baffled, and I think I’m going to explode.

“Belinda Prescott, Ana’s security,” I snap. “Now!”

“Ah, yes.” Andrea disappears.

Don’t be an asshole, Grey.