Happy Wednesday, unicorns! It’s midweek and it’s time for this week’s recap of E. L. James’s masterpiece of crap, Fifty Shades Freed. We get lots of action in this chapter, including a high-speed car chase and a bad case of jet lag.
I stir, instinctively reaching for Christian only to feel his absence. Shit! I wake instantly and look anxiously around the cabin. Christian is watching me from the small, upholstered armchair by the bed. Stooping down, he places something on the floor, then moves and stretches out on the bed beside me.
Here’s the creepy “I love to watch you sleep” scene. Personally, seeing my boyfriend or husband sitting in a chair and staring at me while I sleep would freak me out and I would be out of there in no time.
I yelp, startled, and realize that today we’re going back to Seattle and my melancholy blossoms. I don’t want to leave. I’ve relished being with him 24-7, and I’m not ready to share him with his company and his family. We’ve had a blissful honeymoon. With a few ups and downs, I admit, but that’s normal for a newly married couple, surely?
Yeah, like your husband leaving hickeys all over your breasts so you can’t even wear a swimsuit and not letting you dry a Jet Ski both constitute normal ups and down, even though you admit he’s a control freak.
“I’ll have Welch’s balls on a platter if he lets anything like that happen again.” A shiver runs down my spine at his menacing tone. He gazes at me impassively, and I don’t know if he’s daring me to be flippant or what.
So much has happened in the last three weeks—who am I kidding, the last three months—that I feel that my feet haven’t touched the ground. And now here I am, Mrs. Anastasia Grey, married to the most delicious, sexy, philanthropic, absurdly wealthy mogul a woman could meet. How did this all happen so fast?
Because you’re so passive you let things happen to you and let people make decisions for you instead of making your own decisions? IDK, how did it happen?
My blood chills. Who could want to harm Christian? My mind gnaws at this mystery again. Someone in his business? An ex? A disgruntled employee? I have no idea, and Christian remains tight-lipped about it all.
He was holed up in his study while I unpacked. He said I didn’t have to, that Mrs. Jones would do it. But that’s something else I need to get used to—having domestic help.
I’d watch a Fifty Shades/Downton Abbey crossover. Is Lady Violet going to be in it? She’s be the only interesting character in it, really.
I smile at him, mostly for the benefit of his family, but my spirits take a nosedive again. Why does he make these decisions without telling me? Or is it the thought of Gia—all lush hips, full breasts, expensive designer clothes, and perfume—smiling too provocatively at my husband? My subconscious glares at me. He’s given you no reason to be jealous. Shit, I am up and down today. What’s wrong with me?
Yeah, like he said, he’s done with objectifying women, Ana. You have no reason to be jealous.
I pick at my food. Christian said I was fat yesterday. He was joking! My subconscious glares at me again. Elliot accidentally knocks his glass onto the terrace, startling everyone, and there’s a sudden flurry of activity to get it cleaned up.
Oh, no, he’s not abusive! He was just joking! Can you say gaslighting?
“We’re being followed.”
Followed! Holy shit. My heart lurches into my mouth, pounding, my scalp prickles and my throat constricts with panic. Followed by whom? My eyes dart to the rearview mirror and, sure enough, the dark car I saw earlier is still behind us. Fuck! Is that it? I squint through the tinted windshield to see who’s driving, but I see nothing.
“Keep your eyes on the road, baby,” Christian says gently, not in the truculent tone he normally uses where my driving is concerned.
Get a grip! I mentally slap myself to subdue the dread that’s threatening to swamp me. Suppose whoever’s following us is armed? Armed and after Christian! Shitving and sp! I’m hit by a wave of nausea.
Um…ever hear of calling the police? Or did this really need a James Bond-esque car chase scene?
“Well aren’t you the wanton creature? I had no idea you were such an exhibitionist.”
I sit up immediately, alarmed. He tenses. “No one’s watching are they?” I glance anxiously around the car lot.
“Do you think I’d let anyone watch my wife come?” He strokes his hand down my back reassuringly, but the tone of his voice sends shivers down my spine. I turn to gaze at him and grin impishly.
“Car sex!” I exclaim.
Sure, they already broke about a dozen traffic laws, including reckless driving and speeding. Let’s just add public nudity to the mix for the adrenaline rush.
And that’s it for this week!