Fifty Shades Freed by James E.L

Author:James, E.L. [James, E.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

272/551

While I wait for Kate and Mia to emerge from the dressing room, I stroll to the shop window and look out, unseeing, across the main street. The soul compilation continues: Dionne Warwick is singing “Walk On By.” Another great song—one of my mother’s favorites. I glance down at The Dress in my hand. Dress is perhaps an overstatement. It’s backless and very short, but Mia has declared it a winner, perfect for dancing the night away. Apparently, I need shoes, too, and a large chunky necklace, which we’ll source next. Rolling my eyes, I reflect once more on how lucky I am to have Caroline Acton, my own personal shopper.

Through the boutique window I’m distracted by the sight of Elliot. He has appeared on the other side of the leafy main street, climbing out of a large Audi.

He dives into a store as if to duck out of the rain. Looks like a jewelry store . . .

maybe he’s looking for that watch battery. He emerges a few minutes later and not alone—with a woman.

Fuck! He’s talking to Gia! What the hell is she doing here?

As I watch, they hug briefly and she holds her head back, laughing animatedly at something he says. He kisses her cheek then runs to the waiting car. She turns and heads down the street, and I gape after her. What was that about? I turn anxiously toward the dressing rooms, but there’s still no sign of Kate or Mia.

I glance at Taylor, where he’s waiting outside the store. He catches my eye then shrugs. He’s witnessed Elliot’s little encounter, too. I blush, embarrassed to have been caught snooping. Turning back, Mia and Kate emerge, both of them laughing. Kate looks at me quizzically.

“What’s wrong, Ana?” she asks. “You gone cold on the dress? You look sensational in it.”

“Um, no.”

“Are you okay?” Kate’s eyes widen.

“I’m fine. Shall we pay?” I head to the cashier joining Mia who has chosen two skirts.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.” The young sales assistant—who has more gloss coating her lips than I have ever seen in one place—smiles at me. “That’ll be eight hundred and fifty dollars.”

What? For this scrap of material! I blink at her and meekly hand over my black Amex.

“Mrs. Grey,” Ms. Lip Gloss purrs.

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