Title of Story: An Honorable Man
Rating: M
Pairing: Bella/Edward
Genre: Drama/Crime
Word Count: 5054
Story Summary: No matter how long it took, revenge would be sweet.
Mafia man, Edward Cullen agreed to his grandfather's proposal to marry Rosalie Volturi to smooth over relations with a rival Sicilian family. Marrying Rosalie was not an issue for Edward, but meeting Isabella brought with it more than he bargained for.
Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.
*O*o*O*
The first time I laid eyes on her, it was as if I had been electrocuted back to life. Up until that point, I had been the walking dead and she was the spark that reanimated me.
There was something about her, something powerful that pulled me towards her.
At the time, I thought if I had maybe just one night I could get her out of my system, get her out of my mind.
The problem was, once I did have her, it wasn't enough. One night would never be enough, and for six long years it was all I thought about.
It was all her fault. I hated her. I hated her with every fiber in me because she had awoken something deep, something that I never thought myself capable of feeling.
I hated her because she made me weak. I have never felt a moment of weakness in my life, not even as a child when my father beat me with his belt.
But with her, she brought me to my knees, she opened me up and exposed me whole.
For her and only her, I opened myself up, I let my guard down and let her see every side of me and that turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life.
My family were very powerful people. I came from a very long line of powerful men, and I was next in line for the succession.
My grandfather, Don Edward. People shook with fear at the mere mention of his name. He was a man that could put a gun between a child's eyes, pull the trigger and still be able to sleep peacefully at night.
His father before him, came to America in the year nineteen hundred and three, but not for a better life.
In Sicily, they had money, they had power. Our family name was known throughout Italy.
My great grandfather was both power hungry and crazy.
My great grandfather believed that it was his family that had started La Cosa Nostra. The Italian Mafia. The Sicilian Mafia. I don't know if there is any truth in that, but they have made their mark through history and no one dared to argue with him.
He had everything he could ask for where he was, Sicily and it's people were at his disposable. But as word of America spread around them, members of other families, lower ranked families, even soldiers of his own mafia, made the journey across the ocean. Because with the promise of a new land came the promise of freedom, the promise of power, and the promise of revenge.
It was my great grandfather's decision, that he himself had to leave, and at the time it had been a well kept secret in Italy. People were very much unaware of the Don's disappearance, of his mission to America.
He came to America to control the territory, to stop another person from ever reaching a point of power where they would be in a position to overtake him. It took nearly twenty years for his disappearance to be noticed. It was the Volturi family who had blown his secret.
The Volturi family, were a family with almost as much power as ours. It had been a long war for dominance between the two of us, a war that has only recently ended with my marrying Rosalie Volturi, daughter of Don Aro Volturi thus ending a century long war.
In my thirty-two years of life, I had never seen myself as a married man or a family man.
The first time I saw Rosalie Volturi, I thought nothing of her. She was beautiful, yes. She was blonde. She was tall. She had blue eyes, and she was everything you would expect from a spoiled mafia princess, and as the only daughter of Aro's, well, she had been the center of his affection and love her whole life.
From the very beginning, Rosalie made her displeasure known about our marriage, she even showed up half an hour late to the alter. It took her father's persuasion to lure her out and she had evidence of a bloody nose as she stood before me.
For the first three months of our marriage, she did her best to ignore me. She avoided any interaction with me at all cost. It never bothered me because I had my own life, and I was never a man to share the same bed twice. I liked variety.
But over the months, Rosalie changed towards me. She would ask me questions about myself, personal questions, things that I do not share with anyone other than myself. Her questions, as annoying as they were, were fairly innocent.
Where did you go to school?
What is your favorite food?
Why do you only ever wear a dark blue tie?
Questions that I could have answered, but I didn't. They were too much, too personal, too serious and that was something that we weren't.
But after her innocent questions arose, she began with the serious ones.
Where are you going this late at night?
Why didn't you come home last night?
Who were you with?
How many women have you been with?
These were the sort of questions she knew better than to ask.
Rosalie was bred for this lifestyle. She knew better than to question her husband, but what angered me the most, what set my temper on fire. She went behind my back, she went to my grandfather.
She told him that I was refusing to touch her, to sleep in the same bed as her. She told him things that he did not need to know.
Rosalie wanted sex and she wanted me. It made sense, I was her husband and she was my wife, it was only normal, acceptable that I took what was mine. I gave into her demand, I gave her what she wanted.
I'll admit, she had skills for a virgin. She knew exactly what to do and when to do them.
In the end it was a win win, she got what she wanted and I got something out of it as well.
But it was still not enough for her. Sex wasn't enough for her, she wanted more and my grandfather wanted more.
He and Rosalie spoke of children, they spoke of a happy family, while I was content with my life the way things were. I did not want, nor did I need the responsibility of a child, and that is why I took every precaution to make sure Rosalie never fell pregnant.
Her sudden attachment to me was bothering me, no, it was infuriating me.
She knew what we were, she knew what our marriage was based on, yet she had the nerve to ask for more.
She asked for love, she asked for commitment, she asked for children.
Somewhere along the way, Rosalie fell in love with me, or so she says. The idea is laughable because she knew who I was, she knew I would never be able to love her back.
Why would she put herself in that position? Why would she fall in love when she knew I wasn't capable of offering her the same in return?
It's not that I am incapable of feeling love. I do feel something for Rosalie, but love is definitely not it.
Everything changed. I changed on that warm day back in May.
It was just us guys, my brothers, cousins and a few associates. This was nothing serious, no major sit down, no talks, only lunch.
My younger brother, Jasper, a few years back, he opened this restaurant. It was a nice place, his chef can whip up some fantastic stuff, but we had kept the place low key.
It was the sort of place where everyone knew everyone. The staff knew the customers by name and vice versa. Today, however, something stuck out, something was new, or better yet, someone was new.
She wasn't very tall or very short. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She had porcelain colored skin with the illusion of a blush on her cheeks. Her eyes, I couldn't get a clear look, not from where I was seated.
"Who's that?" I asked my brother.
"Who?"
I pointed to the dark haired beauty on the other side of the room.
"Oh." He smirked. "That's my new waitress," he said.
"Does this waitress have a name?"
"Isabella," he said, taking a swig of his beer.
"To whom does she belong?" I asked.
Jasper had never hired anyone who wasn't somehow a part of the family. It was easier that way. They wouldn't look or care about the dealings that went on, because in our life it was just the norm. There were no questions asked and no answers that needed to be given.
"No one." He shrugged.
"No one?" I raised a brow. "You fucking her?"
"What the fuck. Have you been talking with Alice? Did she come and cry on your fucking shoulder too?" He snapped. I held my hands up in surrender. I didn't want to get into it with him.
"I haven't seen Alice in over a month. What's going on?" I asked, not bothering to look at him at all.
"She jumped down my throat when she came in here and saw Isabella, scared the crap out of the poor girl too."
My brother's wife, Alice, she was a scary little thing. At first sight, she gives you the impression of a shy and quiet person, but don't you dare get on her bad side.
I often worry about Jasper. I keep waiting to get that phone call saying that Alice pulled off some shit that landed him in the hospital or worse, dead.
"So who is she then, if your wife's underwear is all twisted up about her, who is she? Who's she connected too?" I asked.
"No, she's not connected in any way," Jasper said.
"What the fuck, Jasper." I slammed my fist down on the table. "What happened to no outsiders?" I hissed.
"What can I say, I felt bad for her. She came in asking if that position was still available. I told her no, she said okay. Fucking hell, Edward, she practically started crying. Before I knew it, I had offered her the job," he said, sighing deeply.
"You're a fucking retard, bringing an outsider in," I said, whacking the back of his head. He should be lucky that's all I did, he deserved a lot worse.
"I had her checked out. I'm not an idiot," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "Her father recently passed away, she took over the mortgage. Although what she makes here barely covers that. I give her a little extra."
Jasper raised his hand up and motioned for the brown haired beauty to come our way.
I watched in utter fascination, unable to look away as she approached us.
Her hips, the way they swayed with each step she took. Her hair, the way it moved from side to side to side.
I licked my dry lips. She was a vision, even in her uniform, it hid the promise of a beautiful body under it, a body I wanted to discover.
"Isabella," Jasper greeted her with a smile.
"Sir," her soft voice spoke. Now that she was close to me, I could see clearly. Her eyes were a deep, warm, and dark brown, and they looked like they were hiding some deep dark secret.
"Can you please inform Marcus that Edward and his guests have arrived and to prepare them something special. Also, Isabella, send James over with a round of drinks," Jasper ordered.
"Of course, sir." The sweet little thing smiled. She walked away from us. My eyes zoned in on her ass and those pants that hugged her rear end perfectly. I had forgotten about my other company, until Peter spoke up.
"Damn, Jasper, I hope you don't mind if I take that waitress off of your hands for a while," he said, bringing the tips of his fingers to his mouth and kissing them.
Something awoke inside of me then, something protective, almost possessive. The thought of the brown eyed beauty with another man made my blood pressure go through the roof.
"You put your fucking hands on her, and I'm gonna snap them off," I said, staring at Peter.
"My bad," Peter said, holding his palms up in front of him. "I didn't know she was your goomah."
"She's not my fucking goomah," I said. But she will be, if I have anything to say about it.
Peter looked at me, smirked and raised his brow. As far as we are concerned in our life, if she didn't belong to anyone then she was free to step in, but not this time.
"Stay the fuck away from her," I said, as the brown eyed beauty returned with James and two trays filled with drinks. Like the fucking gentleman I was, I stood up and took the tray from her.
"I got it," she said, refusing my help.
"Give me the damn tray, Isabella," I said. With my authoritative tone, she didn't argue and did as she was told, passing the tray over to me. It was a small attempt on my part, but one that paid off. I wanted to get her away from this table and away from the wandering eyes of the men around us. Besides me, Jasper chuckled, but masked his amusement well.
"Should I be telling you to leave my waitress alone?" He laughed, once she was gone.
"No, but you should take your own advice."
Something happened instantaneous in the way that I felt towards this brown eyed beauty. I knew nothing about her, yet I wanted her in every way possible. I felt possessed, possessive, and protective of this stranger and I won't lie, I frightened myself with my own feelings.
But it's only an instant attraction, it has to be. Once I have her a few times, I'll tire of her and move on, I thought.
The problem with Isabella was, it took me months to get into her pants, she didn't give in easily.
After our first meeting, I waited outside the restaurant that night for her to finish.
Jasper told me I was crazy and to leave the poor girl alone. Rosalie had been heating up my phone, calling non stop, in the end I turned the phone off.
"Need a ride?" I asked, as she came out the back. She jumped up letting out one hell of a scream. My mistake, I shouldn't have been hiding in the shadows.
I let her have her moment. I let her catch her breath, thankful that she didn't have a heart attack on me. But I couldn't help but find her reaction funny because if she knew who we really were, who she was working for and who I was, well then, she might have a real reason to fear.
"Do you always sneak up on people like that?" She said, with an expression what I can only assume was meant to be angry, but truth be told it was adorable. She looked like an angry little kitten with sharpened claws.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Forgive me, please?" I said, pouting.
"Why are you here?" She questioned, suspiciously.
"It's late at night, I thought I'd offer you a ride home," I shrugged.
"I'm fine walking, but thank you for the offer," she said, bypassing me, making her way out of the darkened alleyway and onto the bright street. I followed after her.
"I'm Edward, by the way," I said, catching up to her.
"I didn't ask who you were," she said.
I tried not to laugh. She was definitely a kitten with tiger's claws.
"Edward, was it?" She asked. She stopped in the middle of the street and turned to face me.
"Yep," I said.
"Well, Edward, I'm Isabella, but you knew that."
I shrugged.
"And I want you to leave me alone because I am perfectly capable of walking home by myself without your assistance," she said.
"Not a chance," I said. It was late at night. New York may be the city that never sleeps, there may be countless people always around on any given night, but this city also had one hell of a crime rate, I should know after all.
"Fine," she huffed. "Should I scream for help, or should I call the police?" She said, taking out her phone, she was quick to dial nine-one-one.
"Give me that, is this how you treat people who offer you help?" I asked her, snatching the phone out of her hand.
"I don't need your help, and I would appreciate my phone back."
"You can have your phone back after you let me take you home. I would feel much better if I knew you got home safely, please."
And that began a routine. Every time she worked late, I would always be waiting to pick her up and if I couldn't make it, I had Emmett do it. At the time she didn't know that Emmett wasn't just a driver but also her bodyguard, I wanted her protected at all cost. She stopped fighting me after a while, when she realized it was a losing battle with me, I always got what I wanted one way or another.
The more time I spent with her, the more I wanted to know about her, and the more I did know about her, it still wasn't enough. She became my passion, my obsession. She gave me something to look forward to at the end of every day.
Rosalie suspected something, but she knew that I had never been faithful to her and she knew that it was normal, but with her new found love for me, it was making her jealous and unpredictable. I don't know how she did it, but she found out about Isabella.
Rosalie showed up at Jasper's restaurant one night and attacked her. She was throwing things at her, whatever she could reach, forks, spoons, plates, glasses, even an old lady's purse.
Bella didn't fight back, that's what Jasper said. Emmett was quick to restrain Rosalie. He took Bella home, while I went home to deal with my wife.
I had never laid a hand on a woman my entire life, not in a violent way. If it weren't for Emmett and Jasper reassuring me that not a hair on Isabella's head was harmed, I think I would have killed Rosalie.
In the end, it was Jasper that broke into my home and pulled me off of Rosalie. He was the one that stayed and made sure she was okay after I left. I couldn't stand to look at her. That was something my grandfather never found out about though, and that was a good thing, because I doubt I would be alive right now if he had.
After that night, I confessed to Isabella, I confessed everything. I told her about my arranged marriage to Rosalie, I told her about my life, who I was, who my family were. I was a fucking moron. But it felt good, almost liberating to have that weight lifted off my shoulders, for her to finally see the real me. I expected her to run. I expected her to leave me and never look back and I wouldn't have blamed her if she did because I deserved it.
But all she said was "Oh." Nothing more, nothing less. She didn't speak to me for two weeks after that, she had ignored all my calls and she had told Jasper she was going to take some time off.
I didn't push, I didn't shove. I gave her the space and the distance that she needed. It was all my fault because I should have left her alone that first night she told me to fuck off.
It was a quiet Sunday night at the restaurant when it happened, it was a typical family dinner and there was nothing out of the ordinary.
The gunshots rang out through the room. Everyone around us was on the floor trying to shield themselves from the flying bullets. My shoulder felt as if it were on fire, it wasn't until I removed my jacket that I saw the blood. One of the bullets hit me and it was still lodged in there.
Thankfully, I was the only casualty that night. Everyone got out with their lives. I didn't know where to go. I couldn't go to a hospital, they would ask questions. Questions meant cops. Cops would ask more questions and they didn't need to know I was at the restaurant.
So I went to the only place that I could think of, I went to her.
She took a long time to answer the door, but when she saw me, her eyes widened, in shock, in fear, in panic, I don't know. I guess it's not every day that a bleeding fool shows up on your doorstep.
But she took me in, she cleaned me up, she removed the fucking bullet and at the time...at the time I didn't ask how she knew to do that, but she patched me up.
"What happened," she asked.
"I was shot at," I said, being a smart ass.
"I can see that. Why did you come here?"
"I didn't know where else to go," I admitted. She was so close to me, all I needed to do was reach out and to touch her. I did, I brushed the back of my fingers over her cheek, she leaned into my touch. "I've missed you so fucking much, Isabella," I said.
"You're married," she said. "Your shoulder's all fixed, you should go." She stood up, taking the bloodied towels and my shirt and headed out of the bathroom.
"You know it's not like that. I told you that. I explained everything to you," I said, following her down the hall into the kitchen. She put the towels and shirt in a plastic bag and opened the window to the fire escape.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"What does it look like I'm doing? Isn't this what you people do with the evidence?" She asked, lighting up a match and setting the bag on fire. She didn't take her attention off of the burning bag, keeping it under control until it was nothing but ash blowing away with the wind.
I kissed her. I grabbed her around her waist, wrapped her up in my arms and I kissed her. I ignored my protesting shoulder, I ignored the world around us.
She fought me at first, wanting to push away, but she gave in, she opened up her mouth to me and she gave in. I knew she would taste perfect, like heaven and hell at the same time. Pure yet sinful.
I broke our kiss only to pull her t-shirt over her head. She had no bra on underneath. I attacked her mouth again and my hands kneaded the smooth skin of her breasts.
She moaned into my mouth, wrapping her arms around my neck tighter.
"This isn't right," she said, pulling away, gasping for air. "I shouldn't be doing this."
"Yes, it's fucking right," I said, not giving her a second to rest.
"You're married."
"Not by choice," I said.
"Your shoulder," she said, gently running her fingers over the bandage.
"You're running out of excuses, Isabella."
She bit her lip. She had a battle going on in her head right now, it was playing out across her face.
Yes?
No?
Give in?
Don't give in?
"Stop thinking so much about it. It's gonna happen, beautiful," I smirked.
With my good hand, I grabbed her around the waist and popped her up on the kitchen bench, thankful that she figured me out and gave me a helping hand.
"Take your fucking pants off," I begged. My damn shoulder. This wasn't how I pictured my first time with her. But I have waited so long to finally get my hands on her, I would take it whichever way I could get it.
She hopped off of the bench and took her pants off, sitting her bare ass back on the bench.
Fuck me, I thought. I waited for this for months, to have her and now, looking at her, seeing her like this, naked, illuminated only by a small lamp across the room. I couldn't guarantee I would be able to last long.
"Come here," she said, spreading her legs open. I stood in between them. Her hands fiddled with my belt and pants until she had them undone, dropping them around my ankles. She eyed my cock and licked her lips, then looked back up at me.
"Fuck me, Edward," she said, grabbing onto the back of my head, careful to avoid any contact with my shoulder, she crushed her mouth to mine, moulding it together as our tongues made friends.
I had to stop if I was going to survive this. I brought my hand up to my mouth and spat on it, not the most attractive thing, but I didn't have any lube with me or the patience for foreplay. I have waited far too long to be with her, this close to her, and I wasn't going to waste any more time.
There would be another time, for a bed, for foreplay, for long lovemaking, but right now it was about a greedy need and hers was just as bad as mine.
I inched my way inside her unable to stop even for one moment. She felt too good, far better than I had imagined. Her hips moved in tune with mine.
We were covered in a light sheen of sweat, but living in the moment. The only noise, our heavy breathing, our bodies colliding against each other and noisy city outside from the open window.
It was over as quick as it had begun, but I knew that it wouldn't last long from the start.
Neither of us were willing to move though. We were happy to stay here, sticky, sweaty, but connected to one another.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, with her head resting on my good shoulder.
"Shouldn't I be telling you that?" I chuckled. "What could you possibly have to be sorry for?"
"I just am," she said. I felt the wetness of her tears hit my bare skin and held onto her a little tighter. "Can we leave together, somewhere?"
"I would like that," I said. I would do it, leave with her somewhere and forget everyone and everything.
"I meant right now," she said, looking at me, she was serious.
"Isabella, what's the matter?" Her sudden tears and her words had me worried about her.
"Nothing, nothings the matter...I just...Does it make me a bad person if I've changed my mind?" She asked.
At the time I thought she was talking about me, about her and I together and about me still being married. That would make sense, that would be normal.
"No, that wouldn't make you a bad person," I said.
"Edward, you have to leave the city." She was serious, dead serious, almost as if she knew something she wasn't telling me.
"Tell me what it is already. Tell me what's bothering so I can make it better," I said.
My phone ruined our moment. I bent down to retrieve it from my pants. If Jasper hadn't called to say they found our shooters, that had them ready and waiting. I would have pushed her further. I would not have let her move until she told me what the hell she was going on about. But I left in a hurry. I promised her I would be back as soon as possible and told her to pack a bag. I would take her away, not for good, but at least for a little while where it would only be the two of us.
As I drove to the location Jasper had given me, I got this stab in my heart, it pierced me and I whimpered in pain. Something in me knew that that was the last time I would see Isabella, at least for a very long time.
Hours later, we were all under arrest. Myself, Jasper, Emmett, so many more of our family. They had too much evidence on us, and there was no lawyer good enough in this world that would be able to pull us out it. Solid, concrete evidence, pictures, videos, voice recordings, phone records.
I couldn't figure it out. I couldn't wrap my head around how they knew most of this stuff, how they could have gotten hold of most of the evidence. We all had always been careful to cover our tracks. Jasper's restaurant, the clubs, homes, even the hideouts were all swept for bugs and always came out clean.
Did we have a traitor? No. No, we wouldn't be that stupid.
But when I saw her standing before me with her badge around her neck, it all fell into place.
My brown eyed beauty. The woman that had invaded all my senses and drove me wild with need. The woman that I fell in love with, Isabella was…
Detective Isabella Swan. Because of her, I have spent six years in a federal prison. Six years of my life wasted. Six years of my life locked away thinking of nothing but her and how sweet our reunion will be. When I get my hands on her, oh yes, believe me, I will be seeing her if it's the last thing I do. Revenge will be sweet.
*O*o*O*
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