Fifty Shades Trilogy 03 - Fifty Shades Freed

unattached. Both attractive.”
    I flush, feeling foolish for not having noticed.
    “Well, if you put it like that . . . I just thought Gail was older than Taylor.”
    “She is, but not by much.” He gazes at me, perplexed. “Some men like older women—” He stops abruptly and his eyes widen.
    I scowl at him. “I know that,” I snap.
    Christian looks contrite. He smiles fondly at me. Yes! My distraction technique successful! My subconscious rolls her eyes at me—but at what cost? Now the unmentionable Mrs. Robinson is looming over us.
    “That reminds me,” he says, brightly.
    “What?” I mutter petulantly. Grabbing the chair, I turn it to face the mirror above the sinks. “Sit,” I order. Christian regards me with indulgent amusement, but does as he’s told and sits back down in the chair. I start to comb through his now merely damp hair.
    “I was thinking we could convert the rooms over the garages for them at the new place,” Christian continues. “Make it a home. Then maybe Taylor’s daughter could stay with him more often.” He watches me carefully in the mirror.
    “Why doesn’t she stay here?”
    “Taylor’s never asked me.”
    “Perhaps you should offer. But we’d have to behave ourselves.”
    Christian’s brow furrows. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
    “Perhaps that’s why Taylor hasn’t asked. Have you met her?”
    “Yes. She’s a sweet thing. Shy. Very pretty. I pay for her schooling.”
    Oh! I stop combing and stare at him in the mirror.
    “I had no idea.”
    He shrugs. “Seemed the least I could do. Also, it means he won’t quit.”
    “I’m sure he likes working for you.”
    Christian stares at me blankly then shrugs. “I don’t know.”
    “I think he’s very fond of you, Christian.” I resume combing and glance at him. His eyes don’t leave mine.
    “You think?”
    “Yes. I do.”
    He snorts a dismissive yet content sound as if he’s secretly pleased that his staff may like him.
    “Good. Will you talk to Gia about the rooms over the garage?”
    “Yes, of course.” I don’t feel the same irritation I did before at the mention of her name. My subconscious nods sagely at me. Yes . . . we done good today . My inner goddess gloats. Now she’ll leave my husband alone and not make him uncomfortable.
    I am ready to cut Christian’s hair. “You sure about this? Your last chance to bail.”
    “Do your worst, Mrs. Grey. I don’t have to look at me, you do.”
    I grin. “Christian, I could look at you all day.”
    He shakes his head exasperated. “It’s just a pretty face, baby.”
    “And behind it is a very pretty man.” I kiss his temple. “My man.”
    He grins shyly.
    Lifting the first lock, I comb it upward and snare it between my index and middle finger. I put the comb in my mouth, take the scissors and make the first snip, cutting an inch off the length. Christian closes his eyes and sits like a statue, sighing contentedly as I continue. Occasionally he opens his eyes, and I catch him watching me intently. He doesn’t touch me while I work, and I’m grateful. His touch is . . . distracting.
    Fifteen minutes later, I’m done.
    “Finished.” I’m pleased with the result. He looks as hot as ever, his hair still floppy and sexy . . . just a bit shorter.
    Christian gazes at himself in the mirror, looking pleasantly surprised. He grins. “Great job, Mrs. Grey.” He turns his head from side to side and snakes his arm around me. Pulling me to him, he kisses and nuzzles my belly.
    “Thank you,” he says.
    “My pleasure.” I bend and kiss him briefly.
    “It’s late. Bed.” He gives my behind a playful slap.
    “Ah! I should clean up in here.” There is hair all over the floor.
    Christian frowns, as if the thought would never have occurred to him. “Okay, I’ll get the broom,” he says wryly. “I don’t want you embarrassing the staff with your lack of appropriate attire.”
    “Do you know where the broom is?” I ask innocently.
    This stops Christian in his tracks. “Um . . . no.”
    I laugh. “I’ll go.”
    As I climb into bed and wait for Christian to join me, I reflect on how differently this day could have ended. I was so mad at him earlier, and he with me. How am I going to deal with this running-a-company nonsense? I have no desire to run my own company. I am not him. I need to head this off at the pass. Perhaps I should have a safe word for when he’s being overbearing and domineering, for when he’s being an