Updated on August 5, 2015
50 Shades Freed – Chapter Seven
Ana has just identified the man who burned down the server room, from CCTV footage. It is Jack Hyde, her disgruntled ex-boss who Christian had fired after he was a disgusting perv all over Ana. I’m sure Christian will handle this in a sensible and dignified manner.
[WARNING: If you have even the slightest tendency towards female equality or men not being utter pricks to women, this chapter will likely make you vomit all over your keyboard.]
Read Chapter Six.
50 Shades Freed
“It’s the line of his jaw.” I point at the screen.
Such bollocks. It’s his FACE.
“You seem to have studied your ex-boss in some detail, Mrs Grey.”
Are you JEALOUS? Because she can recognise a man she saw every day?
“Why would he do this?” I ask Christian.
Actually it was probably existential melancholy. YES OF COURSE IT WAS REVENGE.
Christian reveals that he had access to Jack’s hard drive (work, I presume, although I wouldn’t put it past him to hack home computers). Like the tease he is, he won’t tell what was on it.
Christian puts his finger against my lips … It’s a clear warning that I should hold my tongue.
Thanks for explaining, or I would never have understood.
“Well, Mrs Grey, it seems that you are not only decorative, but useful, too.” Christian’s eyes light up.
Ana goes to the kitchen to LITERALLY MAKE CHRISTIAN A SANDWICH. What’s more, there’s a moment of tension with the housekeeper as she fights for the right to make him a sandwich.
“So what does Christian like in a, um … sub?” I frown.
Geddit? It means sandwich AND submissive! Ha!
“As long as it’s on French bread, he’ll eat it.”
I suppose it will be up to me to set the parameters by which Mrs Jones and I will work together. I like the idea of cooking for Christian on the weekends.
How about Christian cooks for his own fucking self?
Sandwich scene mercilessly ends. Now they’re in that posh house they bought in the last book and Gia Matteo has plans to redesign it.
“I fell in love with the house as it is … warts and all. I kind of like it the way it is,” I whisper. Is this going to make him mad?
You voicing your opinion? Probably.
“I want this house to be the way you want.” Holy cow, he really does love me.
Don’t think reminding us of this will make us forget how poisonous the rest of your relationship is.
When we finish, it’s nine thirty in the evening.
“What would you like to do?”
“We could watch TV.”
Are we going to see them do something … mundane? I thought they only had wild sex and car chases.
“Any specific drivel you want to see? Waste of time. But I’ll watch something with you.”
Well don’t trouble yourself, love.
“When was the last time you made out in front of the TV?” I ask.
Oh Ana, you so kinky.
“I’ve never done that.” he says quietly.
Oh Christian, you so naïve.
They talk about previous make-out sessions. Christian has had none, but he gets a tinge of psycho jealousy when he finds out that Ana has. She tells him about a guy called Bradley. Christian tips her backwards, pins her arms and kisses her all over whilst she tells him more. Seems a mite possessive to me.
“Did he do this? Touch you like this?” His thumb skims over my nipple.
Blimey, Christian. You’re with her now. It’s OK that she kissed someone else first.
“What about Joe Schmo number two? Did he make it past second base?”
Honestly, I think this is really weird. Like she can’t talk about previous romantic attachments without him staking his claim by rubbing himself all over her.
“No,” I whisper.
Why good? It doesn’t matter!
She tells him to stop touching her up, because they’re just meant to be making out, no sex. He ignores her and dry humps her until she changes her mind. Then they bang.
The following morning, Christian squeezes my hand as we pull up outside SIP.
That’s Ana’s workplace, in case you forgot.
“You know you don’t have to do this?” Christian murmurs.
STOP FUCKING TELLING HER NOT TO WORK. HONESTLY IT’S EVERY FUCKING TIME.
Claire smiles from behind the reception desk.
“Our server room is being overhauled. But Hannah will tell you.”
Hannah is my assistant.
You have an assistant? To help you not do anything?
Hannah has my latte waiting – the only coffee I let her get for me.
Are lattes particularly easy to carry or something?
My email pings – it’s a message from Christian.
Oh for the love of God. I might just kill myself now.
He asks why she hasn’t changed her name to Ana Grey on her work email. She says she wants to keep her name at work, and will talk about it this evening. He doesn’t reply, but later he shows up during a meeting with her assistant.
“Mr Grey. H-how nice to meet you,” Hannah stutters as they shake hands.
Sentence I wish had happened: “Hello, Mr Grey. You are an attractive man but I am a woman with a brain, and can thus talk to you without losing my ability to form sentences.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I’d like a word with Ms Steele.”
Ms Steele needs to tell you to fuck the hell off.
“I’m just looking over my assets,” he says.
“Your assets? All of them?”
Ana is the asset in this Troglodyte’s analogy.
“All of them. Some of them need rebranding.”
Some of them need a bloody divorce.
“I like to make the odd impromptu visit. It keeps management on their toes, wives in their place.”
You know what’s sexy in a man? Feminism.
“Are you ashamed of me?” he asks.
Holy fuck. I’ve hurt his feelings.
Talk about it. Explain what you want. Listen to him and reassure him. Then keep your name because it’s YOUR NAME.
“I want everyone to know that you’re mine.”
That is fundamentally wrong. She is not yours.
“I am yours.”
“I want your world to begin and end with me,” he says.
No. No No No. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO.
Christian tells her that she only got her job because he – as the new company manager – got it for her. Then he verbally pats her on the head for doing so well. He finishes off by telling her he’s changing the company’s name to Grey Publishing, and promises that she will be running the whole thing by the end of the year. It’s a ‘wedding present’.
“Christian … I can’t run a business.”
This is not the issue here. Tell him to stop messing with your life.
“You’re the most well-read person I know. You love a good book.”
Well, that IS all you need to run a publishing company.
“You’re biting your lip.”
“Don’t even think about it,” I warn.
“We’re in a small, reasonably sound-proofed office with a lockable door.”
Don’t have sex at work. DON’T HAVE SEX AFTER ALL THAT SHIT HE’S JUST SAID.
“For heaven’s sake, Christian. If it means that much to you, I’ll change my name!”
And with that, the crumbling remains of Ana’s spine sprouted wings and flew out the window, shouting “Nope nope nope!” into the wind.
He stands abruptly, winks at me, and leaves. He has to be the most frustrating, annoying, contrary man on the planet.
The word you’re looking for is dickhead.
In a futile attempt to convince herself that she’s still an autonomous human being (ha!) Ana emails Christian, telling him to make an appointment next time. For the rest of the day she works herself into a tizzy of moral outrage (might have been useful before) so when he picks her up she’s mad at him.
“You need a haircut,” I mutter.
GOD, Ana. You’re so controlling.
“I thought we had sorted all this in your office.”
“Christian, I just capitulated to your petulant demands. That’s all.”
Yes, you did. Not going to take it back though, are you?
“It’s about how you dealt with the fact that I disagreed with you.”
I feel like EL James wrote that last scene, had a cup of tea and then thought better of it. But rather than going back and editing a spine into Ana, she just tacked on this pathetic attempt.
“You’re so precious to me. Like a priceless asset, like a child,” he whispers.
… a child would be precious to him!
THAT’S what you’re taking from this?
He changes the subject, then tells her she can take out her anger on him in bed. Brilliant.
I’m still mad at Christian, and he doesn’t seem to think he’s done anything wrong. Has he?
“Dance with me?” he murmurs.
He pulls me into his arms and holds me. Oh … I’ve missed him.
Please don’t just forget all this. Please remain steadfast and let him know this is not OK.
“Miss Matteo is here,” he says.
That’s the architect. And presumably all that name business is now forgotten.
That was probably the worst chapter of ANYTHING I’ve EVER read.
Read Chapter Eight.