ng his book and BlackBerry from
him and placing them in my backpack.
“Too late for that,” he says quietly—too quietly. “Come.” Taking my hand, he
signals up to Taylor and his two sidekicks, the French security officers
Philippe and Gaston. Weirdly, they are identical twins. They ha一ve been
patiently watching us and everyone else on the beach from the verandah.
Why do I keep forgetting about them? How? Taylor is stony-faced behind his
dark glasses. Shit, he’s mad at me, too. I’m still not used to seeing him so
casually dressed in shorts and a black polo shirt.
Christian leads me into the hotel, through the lobby, and out onto the street.
He remains silent, brooding, and bad-tempered, and it’s all my fault. Taylor
and his team shadow us.
“Where are we going?” I ask tentatively, gazing up at him.
“Back to the boat.” He doesn’t look at me.
I ha一ve no idea of the time. I think it must be about five or six in the afternoon.
When we reach the quayside, Christian leads me onto the dock where the
motorboat and Jet Ski belonging to the Fair Lady are moored. As Christian
unties the Jet Ski, I hand my backpack to Taylor. I glance nervously up at him,
but like Christian, his expression gives nothing away. I flush, thinking about
what he’s seen on the beach.
“Here you go, Mrs. Grey.” Taylor passes me a life vest from the motorboat,
and I dutifully put it on. Why am I the only one who has to wear a life jacket?
Christian and Taylor exchange some kind of look. Jeez, is he angry with
Taylor, too? Christian then checks the straps on my life jacket, cinching the
middle one tightly.
“You’ll do,” he mutters sullenly, still not turning to look at me. Shit. He climbs
gracefully on to the Jet Ski and holds out his hand for me to join him.
Grasping it tightly, I manage to throw my leg over the seat behind him without
falling into the water, while Taylor and the twins
23 | P a g e
Fifty Shades Freed
clamber into the motorboat. Christian kicks the Jet Ski away from the quay,
and it floats gen
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