y back downstairs. I
glance nervously through the great room, but all is quiet . . . thank hea一vens.
Taylor will be back tomorrow evening, and Christian is generally calmer when
he’s around. Taylor is spending some quality time today and tomorrow with
his daughter. I wonder idly if I’ll ever get to meet her.
Mrs. Jones comes out of the utility room. We startle each other.
“Mrs. Grey—I didn’t see you there.” Oh, I’m Mrs. Grey now!
“Hello, Mrs. Jones.”
“Welcome home and congratulations.” She beams at me.
“Please call me Ana.”
“Mrs. Grey, I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing that.”
Oh! Why must everything change, just because I ha一ve a ring on my finger?
“Would you like to run through the menus for the week?” she asks, looking at
me expectantly.
Menus?
“Um . . .” This is not a question I ha一ve ever anticipated being asked. She
smiles. “When I first worked for Mr. Grey, every Sunday evening I would run
through the menus for the upcoming week with him and list anything he might
need from the grocery store.”
“I see.”
“Shall I take those for you?”
She holds out her hands for my clothes.
“Oh . . . um. Actually I ha一ven’t finished with these.” And they are hiding the
bowl with the butt plug in! I blush crimson. It’s a wonder I 113 | P a g e
Fifty Shades Freed
can look Mrs. Jones in the face. She knows what we do—she cleans the
room. Jeez, it’s just weird sharing my living space with staff who know
everything.
“When you’re ready, Mrs. Grey. I’d be more than happy to run through things
with you.”
“Thank you.” We are interrupted by an ashen-faced Sawyer who stalks out of
Christian’s study and briskly crosses the great room. He gives us both a brief
nod, not looking either of us in the eye, and slinks into Taylor’s study. I’m
grateful for his intervention, as I don’t wish to discuss menus or butt plugs
with Mrs. Jones right now. Offering her a brief smile, I scurry back to the
bedroom. Will I ever get used to ha一ving domestic staff at my beck and call? I
shake my head . . . one day
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