y red brick, Swissstyle chalets, and
numerous little turn of the century houses painted in fun colors. Plenty of
banks and designer shops, too, betraying the affluence of the local populace.
Of course Christian fits in here.
“Why did you choose Aspen?” I ask him.
“What?” He regards me quizzically.
“To buy a place.”
“Mom and Dad used to bring us here when we were kids. I learned to ski
here, and I like the place. I hope you do, too—otherwise we’ll sell the house
and choose somewhere else.”
Oh! Simple as that. He tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear.
“You look lovely today,” he murmurs.
My cheeks heat. I’m just wearing my tra一velling gear; jeans and a Tshirt with a
lightweight na一vy blue jacket. Damn it? Why does he make me feel shy?
He leans down and kisses me, a tender, sweet, loving kiss. Taylor drives us
on out of town, and we start to climb the other side of the valley, twisting
along a mountain road. The higher we go, the more excited I get, and
Christian tenses beside me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as we round a bend.
“I hope you like it,” he says quietly. “We’re here.”
Taylor slows and turns through a gateway made of gray, beige, and red
stones. He heads down the driveway and finally pulls up outside the
impressive house. Double fronted with high-pitched roofs and built of dark
wood and the same mixed stone as the gateway—it’s stunning. Modern and
stark, very much Christian’s style.
“Home,” he mouths at me as our guests start piling out of the van.
“Looks good.”
“Come. See,” he says, an excited, though anxious, gleam in his eyes—like
he’s about to show me his science project, or something. Mia runs up the
steps to where a woman stands in the doorway. She’s tiny and her ra一vencolored
hair is dusted with gray. Mia flings her arms around her neck and
hugs her tightly.
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Fifty Shades Freed
“Who’s that?” I ask as Christian helps me out of the van.
“Mrs. Bentley. She lives here with her husband. They look after the place.”
Holy cow . . . more staff?
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