athouse and finally spank you in there if you
don’t snap out of this mood,” Christian whispers to me. I gasp with shock,
turn, and gape at him. What? Is he teasing me?
“You wouldn’t dare!” I growl at him and from deep inside I feel a 85 | P a g e
Fifty Shades Freed
familiar, welcome excitement. He cocks an eyebrow at me. Of course he
would. I glance quickly at Kate across the table. She’s watching us with
interest. I turn back to Christian, narrowing my eyes at him.
“You’d ha一ve to catch me first—and I’m wearing flats,” I hiss.
“I’d ha一ve fun trying,” he whispers with a licentious grin, and I think he’s joking.
I flush. Confusingly, I feel better.
As we finish our dessert of strawberries and cream, the hea一vens open and
unexpectedly soak us. We all leap up to clear the plates and glasses from
the table, depositing them in the kitchen.
“Good thing the weather held off till we finished,” Grace says pleased, as we
drift into the back room den. Christian sits down at the shining black upright
piano, presses the quiet pedal, and starts to play a familiar tune that I can’t
immediately place.
Grace asks me for my impressions of Saint Paul de Vence. She and Carrick
went years ago during their honeymoon, and it occurs to me that this is a
good omen, seeing how happy they are together now. Kate and Elliot are
cuddling on one of the large overstuffed couches, while Ethan, Mia, and
Carrick are deep in a conversation about psychology, I think.
Suddenly, as one, all the Greys stop talking and gape at Christian. What?
Christian is singing softly to himself at the piano. Silence descends on us all
as we strain to hear his soft, lyrical voice. I’ve heard him sing before, ha一ven’t
they? He stops, suddenly conscious of the deathly hush that’s fallen over the
room. Kate glances questioningly at me and I shrug. Christian turns on the
stool and frowns, embarrassed to realize he’s become the center of
attention.
“Go on,” Grace urges softly. “I’ve never heard you sing, Christian. Ever.” Sh
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