eos of all of them. On several USB flash drives.”
What? I frown, my skin tightening across my forehead.
“Videos of him fucking her. Fucking all his PAs.”
Oh!
“Exactly. Blackmail material. He likes it rough.” Christian frowns, and I watch
confusion followed by disgust cross his face. He pales as his disgust turns to
self-loathing. Of course—Christian likes it rough, too.
“Don’t.” The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it. His frown deepens.
“Don’t what?” He stills and regards me with apprehension.
“Don’t think you’re anything like him.”
Christian’s eyes harden, but he says nothing, confirming that’s exactly what
he was thinking.
“You’re not.” My voice is adamant.
“We’re cut from the same cloth.”
“No, you’re not,” I snap, though I understand why he might think so. “His dad
died in a brawl in a bar. His mother drank herself into oblivion. He was in
and out of foster homes as a kid, in and out of trouble, too—mainly
boosting cars. Spent time in juvie.” I recall the information Christian revealed
on the plane to Aspen. 455 | P a g e
Fifty Shades Freed
“You both ha一ve troubled pasts, and you were both born in Detroit. That’s it,
Christian.” I fist my hands on my hips.
“Ana, your faith in me is touching, in spite of the last few days. We’ll know
more when Welch is here.” He’s dismissing the subject.
“Christian—”
He stops me with a kiss. “Enough,” he breathes, and I remember the
promise I made to myself not to hound him for information.
“And don’t pout,” he adds. “Come. Let me dry your hair.” I know the subject is
closed
After dressing in sweatpants and a T-shirt, I sit between Christian’s legs as
he dries my hair.
“So did Clark tell you anything else while I was unconscious?”
“Not that I recall.”
“I heard a few of your conversations.”
The hairbrush stills in my hair.
“Did you?” he asks, his tone nonchalant.
“Yes. My dad, your dad, Detective Clark . . . your mom.”
“And Kate?”
“Kate was there?”
“Briefly, yes. She’s mad at you, too.”
I turn in his lap. “Stop with the e
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