Fifty Shades Trilogy 03 - Fifty Shades Freed

possess things?” Her eyes widen.
    Yes, baby. You, for one.
    “I want to deserve to possess them, but yes, bottom line, I do.”
    “You sound like the ultimate consumer.” Her voice is tinged with disapproval, pissing me off again. She sounds like a rich kid who’s had all she ever wanted, but as I take a closer look at her clothes—she’s dressed in Walmart, or Old Navy possibly—I know that isn’t it. She hasn’t grown up in an affluent household.
    I could really take care of you.
    Shit, where the fuck did that come from? Although, now that I consider it, I do need a new sub. It’s been, what—two months since Susannah? And here I am, salivating over this brown-haired girl. I try a smile and agree with her. Nothing wrong with consumption—after all, it drives what’s left of the American economy.
    “You were adopted. How far do you think that’s shaped the way you are?”
    What the fuck does this have to do with the price of oil? I scowl at her. What a ridiculous question. If I’d stayed with the crack whore, I’d probably be dead. I blow her off with a non-answer, trying to keep my voice level, but she pushes me, demanding to know my how old I was when I was adopted. Shut her down, Grey!
    “That’s a matter of public record, Miss Steele.” My voice is arctic. She should know this shit. Now she looks contrite. Good.
    “You’ve had to sacrifice a family life for your work.”
    “That’s not a question,” I snap.
    She blushes again and bites down on that damned lip. But she has the grace to apologize.
    “Have you had to sacrifice a family life for your work?”
    What do I want with a fucking family?
    “I have a family. I have a brother and a sister and two loving parents. I’m not interested in extending my family beyond that.”
    “Are you gay, Mr. Grey?”
    What the fuck! I cannot believe she’s said that out loud! The unspoken question that my own family dares not ask, much to my amusement. How dare she! I have to fight down the urge to drag her out of her seat, bend her across my knee, and spank the living shit out of her, then fuck her over my desk with her hands tied tightly behind her back. That would answer her question. How frustrating is this female? I take a deep calming breath. To my vindictive delight, she appears to be acutely embarrassed by her own question.
    “No, Anastasia, I’m not.” I raise my eyebrows, but keep my expression impassive. Anastasia. It is a lovely name. I like the way my tongue rolls around it.
    “I apologize. It’s um . . . written here.” Nervously, she tucks her hair behind her ear.
    She doesn’t know her own questions? Perhaps they’re not hers. I ask her, and she pales. Fuck, she really is very attractive, in an understated sort of way. I would even go so far as to say she is beautiful.
    “Er . . . no. Kate—Miss Kavanagh—she compiled the questions.”
    “Are you colleagues on the student paper?”
    “No, she’s my roommate.”
    No wonder she is all over the place. I scratch my chin, debating whether to give her a really, really hard time.
    “Did you volunteer to do this interview?” I ask, and I’m rewarded with her submissive look: eyes large, nervous about my reaction. I like the effect I have on her.
    “I was drafted. She’s not well,” she says softly.
    “That explains a great deal.”
    There’s a knock at the door, and Andrea appears. “Mr. Grey, forgive me for interrupting, but your next meeting is in two minutes.”
    “We’re not finished here, Andrea. Please cancel my next meeting.”
    Andrea hesitates, gaping at me. I stare at her. Out! Now! I’m busy with Little Miss Steele here. Andrea blushes scarlet, but recovers quickly.
    “Very well, Mr. Grey,” she says, and turning on her heel, she leaves us.
    I turn my attention back to the intriguing, frustrating creature on my couch. “Where were we, Miss Steele?”
    “Please don’t let me keep you from anything.”
    Oh no, baby. It’s my turn now. I want to know if there are any secrets to uncover behind those beautiful eyes.
    “I want to know about you. I think that’s only fair.” As I lean back and press my fingers to my lips, her eyes flick to my mouth and she swallows. Oh, yes—the usual effect. And it is gratifying to know she isn’t completely oblivious to my charms.
    “There’s not much to know,” she says, her blush returning. I’m intimidating her. Good.
    “What are your plans after you graduate?”
    She shrugs. “I haven’t made