Fifty Shades Freed (Christian & Ana)(76)

"Christian, I just capitulated to your petulant demands. That's all."

The elevator doors open and I storm out. Taylor is standing in the hallway.

He takes a step back and quickly shuts his mouth as I steam past him.

"Hi, Taylor," I mutter.

"Mrs. Grey," he murmurs.

Dropping my briefcase in the hallway, I head into the great room. Mrs. Jones is at the stove.

"Good evening, Mrs. Grey."

"Hi, Mrs. Jones," I mutter once more. I head straight to the fridge and pull out a bottle of white wine. Christian follows me into the kitchen and watches me like a hawk as I take a glass down from the cupboard. He removes his jacket and casually places it on the countertop.

"Do you want a drink?" I ask super sweetly.

"No thanks," he says, not taking his eyes off me, and I know that he's helpless. He does not know what to do with me. It's comical on one level and tragic on another. Well, screw him! I am having trouble locating my compassionate self since our meeting this afternoon. Slowly, he removes his tie then opens the top button of his shirt. I pour myself a large glass of sauvignon blanc, and Christian runs a hand through his hair. When I turn around, Mrs. Jones has disappeared .

Shit! She's my human shield. I take a slug of wine. Hmm. It tastes good.

"Stop this," Christian whispers. He takes the two steps between us so he's standing in front of me. Gently he tucks my hair behind my ear and caresses my earlobe with his fingertips, sending a shiver through me. Is this what I've missed all day? His touch? I shake my head, causing him to release my ear and gaze up at him.

"Talk to me," he murmurs.

"What's the point? You don't listen to me."

"Yes I do. You're one of the few people I do listen to."

I take another swig of wine.

"Is this about your name?"

"Yes and no. It's how you dealt with the fact that I disagreed with you." I glare up at him, expecting him to be angered.

His brow furrows. "Ana, you know I have . . . issues. It's hard for me to let go where you're concerned. You know that."

"But I'm not a child, and I'm not an asset."

"I know." He sighs.

"Then stop treating me as though I am," I whisper, imploring him.

He brushes the back of his fingers down my cheek and runs the tip of his thumb across my bottom lip.

"Don't be mad. You're so precious to me. Like a priceless asset, like a child,"

he whispers, a somber reverent expression on his face. His words distract me . Like a child. Precious like a child . . . a child would be precious to him!

"I'm neither of those things, Christian. I'm your wife. If you were hurt that I wasn't going to take your name, you should have said."

"Hurt?" He frowns deeply, and I know that he's exploring the possibility in his mind. He straightens suddenly, still frowning, and glances quickly at his wrist-watch. "The architect will be here in just under an hour. We should eat."

Oh no. I groan inwardly. He hasn't answered me, and now I have to deal with Gia Matteo. My shitty day just got shittier. I scowl at Christian.

"This discussion isn't finished," I mutter.

"What else is there to discuss?"

"You could sell the company."

Christian snorts. "Sell it?"

"Yes."

"You think I'd find a buyer in today's market?"

"How much did it cost you?"