Fifty Shades Freed

“It’s good to see you, Kate.” I hug her back.

“So, where are we going?”

“Christian wants us to go back to the apartment.”

“Aw, really? Can’t we sneak a quick cocktail at the Zig Zag Cafe? I’ve booked us a table.”

I open my mouth to protest.

“Please?” she whines and pouts prettily. She must be picking this up from Mia. She never pouts normally. I’d really like a cocktail at the Zig Zag. We had such

fun the last time we went there, and it’s close to Kate’s apartment.

I hold up my index finger. “One.”

She grins. “One” She links her arm in mine, and we stroll out to the car, which is parked at the curb with Sawyer at the wheel. We’re followed by Miss Samantha

Prescott who’s new to the security team—a tall African-American with a no-nonsense attitude. I’ve yet to warm to her, maybe because she’s too cool and

professional. The jury’s definitely out, but like the rest of the team, she’s been hand-picked by Taylor. She’s dressed like Sawyer in a dark somber pantsuit.

“Can you take us to the Zig Zag, please, Sawyer?”

Sawyer turns to look at me, and I know he wants to say something. He’s obviously been given his orders. He hesitates.

“The Zig Zag Café. We’ll only have one.”

I give Kate a sideways glance, and she’s glaring at Sawyer. Poor man.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Mr. Grey requested you go back to the apartment,” Prescott pipes up.

“Mr. Grey isn’t here,” I snap. “The Zig Zag, please.”

“Ma’am,” Sawyer replies with a sideways glance at Prescott, who wisely holds her tongue.

Kate gapes at me as if she can’t believe her eyes and ears. I purse my lips and shrug. Okay, so I’m a little more assertive than I used to be. Kate nods as Sawyer

pulls out into the early evening traffic.

“You know the additional security is driving Grace and Mia crazy,” Kate says casually.

I gawk at her, baffled.

“You didn’t know?” She seems incredulous.

“Know what?”

“Security for all of the Greys has been tripled. Gazillioned, even.”

“Really?”

“He hasn’t told you?”

I flush. “No.” Damn it, Christian! “Do you know why?”

“Jack Hyde.”

“What about Jack? I thought he was just after Christian.” I gasp. Jeez. Why hasn’t he told me?

“Since Monday,” Kate says.

Last Monday? Hmm . . . we identified Jack on Sunday. But why all the Greys?

“How do you know all this?”

“Elliot.”

“Elliot.”

Of course.

“Christian hasn’t told you any of this, has he?”

I flush once more. “No.”

“Oh, Ana, how a

I sigh. As ever, Kate has hit the nail squarely on the head in her usual sledgehammer style. “Do you know why?” If Christian’s not going to tell me, then maybe

Kate will.

“Elliot said it’s something to do with information stored on Jack Hyde’s computer when he was at SIP.”

Holy crap. “You’re kidding.” A surge of anger pulses through me. How does Kate know about this when I don’t?

I glance up to see Sawyer eyeing me from the rearview mirror. The red light turns to green and he surges forward, focusing on the road ahead. I hold my finger

up to my lips and Kate nods. I bet Sawyer knows, too, and I don’t.

“How’s Elliot?” I ask to change the subject.

Kate grins stupidly, telling me all I need to know.

Sawyer pulls up at the end of the passageway that leads down to the Zig Zag Café, and Prescott opens my door. I scoot out and Kate slides out after me. We link

arms and meander down the passage, followed by Prescott, who’s wearing a thunderous expression on her face. Oh, for heaven’s sake, it’s just a drink. Sawyer

drives off to park the car.

“So how does Elliot know Gia?” I ask, taking a sip of my second strawberry mojito. The bar is intimate and cozy, and I don’t want to leave. Kate and I have not

stopped talking. I had forgotten how much I like hanging with her. It’s liberating to be out, relaxing, enjoying Kate’s company. I contemplate texting Christian then

dismiss the idea. He’ll just be mad and make me go home like an errant child.

“Don’t talk to me about that bitch!” Kate splutters.

Kate’s reaction makes me laugh.

“What’s so fu

“I feel the same way.”

“You do?”

“Yes. She was all over Christian.”

“She had a fling with Elliot.” Kate pouts.

“No!”

She nods, her lips pressed together in the patented Katherine Kavanagh scowl.

“It was brief. Last year, I think. She’s a social climber. No wonder she has her sights set on Christian.”

“Christian is taken. I told her to leave him alone or I would fire her.”

Kate gapes at me once more, stu

“Mrs. Anastasia Grey! Way to go!” We clink.

“Does Elliot own a gun?”

“No. He’s very antigun.” Kate stirs her third drink.

“Christian, too. I think it was Grace and Carrick’s influence,” I mutter. I’m feeling a little tipsy.

“Carrick’s a good man.” Kate nods.

“He wanted a prenup,” I mutter sadly.

“Oh, Ana.” She reaches across and grasps my arm. “He was only looking out for his boy. As we both know, you have gold-digger tattooed on your forehead.”

She smiles at me, and I poke my tongue out at her then giggle.

“Mature, Mrs. Grey,” she says gri

“My son?” I gape at her. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that my kids will be rich. Holy crap. They’ll want for nothing. I mean . . . nothing. This needs further

thought—but not right now. I glance at Prescott and Sawyer seated nearby, watching us and the evening crowd from a side table while they each nurse a glass of

sparkling mineral water.

“Do you think we should eat?” I ask.

“No. We should drink,” Kate says.

“Why are you in such a drinking mood?”

“Because I don’t see enough of you anymore. I didn’t know you’d up and marry the first guy who turned your head.” She pouts again. “Honestly, you married

so quickly that I thought you were pregnant.”

I giggle. “Everyone thought I was pregnant,” I mutter. “Let’s not rehash that conversation again. Please! And I have to use the restroom.”

Prescott accompanies me. She says nothing. She doesn’t have to. Disapproval radiates off her like a lethal isotope.

“I haven’t been out on my own since I got married,” I mutter wordlessly at the closed toilet door. I make a face, knowing that she’s standing on the other side of

the door, waiting while I pee. What precisely is Hyde going to do in a bar anyway? Christian is just overreacting as usual.

“Kate, it’s late. We should go.”

It’s ten fifteen, and I have downed my fourth strawberry mojito. I am definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol, warm and fuzzy. Christian will be fine.

Eventually.

“Sure, Ana. It’s been so good to see you. You just seem so much more, I don’t know . . . confident. Marriage obviously agrees with you.”

My face warms. Coming from Miss Katherine Kavanagh, this is indeed a compliment.

“It does,” I whisper, and because I’ve probably had too much to drink, tears prick the back of my eyes. Could I be any happier? In spite of all his baggage, his

nature, his Fiftyness, I have met and married the man of my dreams. I quickly change the subject to stem my sentimental thoughts, because I know I will cry

otherwise.

“I have really enjoyed this evening.” I grasp Kate’s hand. “Thank you for dragging me out!” We hug. As she releases me, I nod at Sawyer and he hands Prescott

the keys to the car.

“I’m sure Miss Goody-Two-Shoes Prescott has told Christian I’m not at home. He’ll be mad,” I mutter to Kate. And maybe he’ll think of some delicious way to

punish me . . . hopefully.

“Why are you gri