Happy Wednesday, Persephoneers! It’s time for another recap of Fifty Shades Freed. I swear this chapter was so godawful, I wanted to throw my Kindle across the room. I’ve selected some of the choicest parts for you and have provided my commentary, just so you can see for yourselves how awful this book is. A great piece of erotica . . . really? The people who think so should really look at their lives and their reading choices.
“You both look so well after your honeymoon,” she says smoothly, her brown eyes gazing at Christian through long mascaraed lashes. Christian puts his arm around me, holding me close.
“We had a wonderful time, thank you.” He brushes his lips against my temple, taking me by surprise.
See . . . he’s mine. Annoying—infuriating, even—but mine. I grin. Right now I really love you, Christian Grey. I slip my hand around his waist then into his rear pocket of his pants and squeeze his behind. Gia gives us a thin smile.
You know, Ana, if you want to mark your territory so much, you can make like a lioness and pee on Christian. Just saying.
“Would you like something to drink?” I ask. “A glass of wine?”
“That would be lovely,” Gia says. “Dry white if you have it.”
Shit! Sauvignon blanc—that’s a dry white, isn’t it? Reluctantly leaving my husband’s side, I head over to the kitchen. I hear the iPod hiss as Christian switches off the music.
“You’re right to be nervous, Gia, because right now your work on this project hangs in the balance. But I’m sure we’ll be fine as long as you keep your hands off my husband.”
“Otherwise, you’re fired. Understand?” I enunciate each word clearly.
Seriously, what makes you think that everyone wants to get with your douche of a husband?
“We were Christian and Ana when she arrived, and Mr. and Mrs. Grey when she left.” His tone is dry.
“I may have said something,” I mumble. When I peek up at him, he’s regarding me warmly, and for an unguarded moment he looks . . . pleased. He drops his gaze, shaking his head, and his expression changes.
“She’s only reacting to this face.” He sounds vaguely bitter, disgusted even.
“I just don’t want you to slip through my fingers.”
“For heaven’s sake, I’m not going anywhere. When are you going to get that through your incredibly thick skull? I. Love. You.” I wave my hand in the air like he does sometimes to emphasize my point. “More than . . . eyesight, space, or liberty.”
His eyes widen. “A daughter’s love?” He gives me an ironic smile.
“No,” I laugh, despite myself. “It’s the only quote that came to mind.”
“Mad King Lear?”
“Dear, dear Mad King Lear.”
I find the quote from King Lear to be disturbing on many levels. Maybe because it’s a quote from a daughter to her father, and because James misuses quotes from literature all throughout her series.
From the shower I retrieve his Chanel shampoo. We bought it in France.
Oh, wow, they bought Chanel shampoo, in France. And did you note the strategic placement of the name of a designer brand?
I open the top drawer and am immediately distracted when I find a gun. Christian has a gun! A revolver. Holy fuck! I had no idea Christian owned a gun. I take it out, slip the release and check the cylinder. It’s fully loaded, but light . . . too light. It must be carbon fiber. What does Christian want with a gun? Jeez, I hope he knows how to use it.
Christian is the man who has everything. What makes you think he wouldn’t have a gun, you blockhead? And again, if you have different values when it comes to gun use and gun ownership, shouldn’t this have been something you discussed before you two were married?
The rest of the chapter includes two yawn-inducing sex scenes and a haircutting fantasy that are way too boring to recap, but if you want to read them and indulge your own fantasies of Sparklevamp! Edward, feel free to do so and provide your own commentary. But that’s it for this week!