50 shades freed

Chapter 1

Everything in it is entirely imaginary and intended only for entertainment; I created it for fun. I did not write 50 Shades freed or any of its characters, and I do not own them.

Chapter 1

I stare up through gaps in the sea grass parasol at the bluest of skies, summer blue, Mediterranean blue with a contented sigh. Harry is beside me, stretched out on a sun lounger. My husband—my hot, beautiful husband, shirtless, and in cut-off jeans—is reading a book predicting the collapse of the Western banking system. By all accounts, it's a page-turner. I haven't seen him sit this still, ever. He looks more like a student than the hotshot CEO of one the top privately owned companies in the United States.

On the final leg of our honeymoon, we laze in the afternoon sun on the beach of the aptly named Beach Plaza Monte Carlo in Monaco, although we're not actually staying in this hotel. I open my eyes and gaze out at the Fair Lady anchored in the harbor. We are staying, of course, on board a luxury motor yacht. Built in 1928, she floats majestically on the water, queen of the all the yachts in the harbor. She looks like a child's wind-up toy. Harry loves her—I suspect he's tempted to buy her.

Honestly, boys and their toys.

Sitting back, I listen to the Harry Styles mix on my new iPod and doze in the late afternoon sun, idly remembering his proposal. Oh, his dreamy proposal in the boathouse . . . I can almost smell the scent of the meadow flowers . . .

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"Can we marry tomorrow?" Harry murmurs softly in my ear. I am sprawled on his chest in the flowery bower in the boathouse, sated from our passionate lovemaking.

"Hmm."

"Is that a yes?" I hear his hopeful surprise.

"Hmm."

"A no?"

"Hmm."

I sense his grin. "Mr. Tomlinson, are you incoherent?" I grin.

"Hmm."

He laughs and hugs me tightly, kissing the top of my head. "Vegas, tomorrow, it is then." Sleepily I raise my head. "I don't think my parents would be very happy with that." He thrums his fingertips up and down my naked back, caressing me gently.

"What do you want, Louis? Vegas? A big wedding with all the trimmings? Tell me."

"Not big . . . Just friends and family." I gaze up at him moved by the quiet entreaty in his glowing green eyes. What does he want?

"Okay." He nods. "Where?"

I shrug.

"Could we do it here?" he asks tentatively.

"Your folks' place? Would they mind?"

He snorts. "My mother would be in seventh heaven."

"Okay, here. I'm sure my mom and dad would prefer that." He strokes my hair. Could I be any happier?

"So, we've established where, now the when."

"Surely you should ask your mother."

"Hmm." Harry's smile dips. "She can have a month, that's it. I want you too much to wait any longer."

"Harry, you have me. You've had me for a while. But okay—a month it is." I kiss his chest, a soft chaste kiss, and smile up at him.

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