Author's Note: Hi everyone! Thanks for your feedback on the first chapter! I'm having a blast writing this story, and it's wonderful to be able to share it with you. This is a long chapter, but the action picks up pretty early on, so hopefully you'll enjoy it.

A few notes: first of all, there will be fairly explicit sexual scenes in this story, though they'll be a little later down the road. Second, there will be some violence, although it won't be graphic or explicit. Finally, there will be some crude language, though hopefully nothing you find too horrifying. :)

Let me know what you think of this chapter, and if you find any typos or grammatical errors that should be corrected, feel free to let me know. I'd rather have my mistakes pointed out to me so that I can fix them :) Thanks for reading!

Situated just off of Broadway, the Ashley Eden Hotel was widely considered one of the most elegant and sophisticated luxury hotels in Manhattan. Its pedigree was second to none, and the penthouse suite, currently occupied by none other than Edward Cullen, was bigger than most houses in New York City and had been designed by some of New York's most famous architects.

All things considered, Bella believed that she was lucky to work at Ashley Eden. As a maid at one of the most upscale hotels in the city, she had a front-row seat to the kind of action that filled the society pages and celebrity gossip rags. Every day brought a new drama. Just yesterday, a married senator and his legal-aide-turned-mistress had checked into the honeymoon suite. The day before, a chart-topping boyband, fueled by enough cocaine to kill a horse, had trashed a room on the third floor. A few days before that, a distant cousin of the Queen of Denmark had gone into labor in the middle of breakfast. It made for a lively work environment.

The work itself was pretty dull. Bella was primarily responsible for laundry: usually the dirty kind, though occasionally she was instructed to deliver freshly pressed dry-cleaning to one of the upstairs suites. When she had a break or there was a lull in the workload and Bella had a few quiet moments to herself, she sat at the back of the laundry room and scribbled into her sketchbook. All of her favorite art teachers swore by daily practice, and even a few minutes of drawing could do wonders for Bella's mood.

Her dream was to be an illustrator, and her ultimate dream would be to write and illustrate her own middle-grade fantasy novels. Of course, she hadn't a chance in hell of making a living that way, especially in New York City, where she was barely scraping by while working two jobs and living in a rent-controlled apartment that had been in her family since 1965. Sometimes she wished that she could leave the city entirely, but she didn't want to be too far from her father. Charlie Swan had once been a well-respected sergeant with the NYPD, but he hadn't worked in 17 years. Not since Bella's mother died.

Anyway, Bella would be happy enough if she could just build up some savings and work as an artist in what little spare time she had. She took community college art classes on the weekends and tried to improve her skills whenever she could.

Towards the end of her shift there was a lull, and Bella had slipped into the laundry room with her sketchbook to work on a still life when her supervisor found her. As far as bosses went, Claire was fairly decent. She ruled with an iron fist, but she was usually pretty fair, and she was an unparalleled bullshit detector. Precious little ever got by Claire.

"Hello Picasso," Claire remarked drily. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but your shift isn't over yet, is it?"

"I was just taking a my break," Bella fibbed, quickly setting down her sketchbook. Technically she'd taken her break an hour ago.

"Well, break's over now. Take this up to the penthouse," Claire instructed her, handing over two designer suits in dry cleaning bags. "Did you hear me?" Claire repeated, with irritation, when Bella froze.

Bella nodded enthusiastically. "I'll head up there now." What luck. She might be in for her second Edward sighting of the night. The entire trip up to the 54th floor would be worth it if he answered the door and flashed her that melting grin. Unable to fight the small smile on her lips, Bella walked to the staff elevator with a slight bounce in her step. There was just half an hour left to her shift, including a possible Edward sighting, and then she could go back to Angela's and relax with her best friend. Not a bad night, given that her day had begun with changing her door locks while crying over her failed relationship.

Her heart was thumping slightly when she arrived at the penthouse door, and she found herself smoothing her free hand over her hair and down her maid's uniform. She rolled her eyes at her own behavior. It was a maid's uniform, for christ's sake, not a ballgown. Sighing, Bella knocked.

There was a moment of silence, and she was about to knock again, when she heard the brush of movement behind the door, and sensed that someone was at the peephole. Then the knob turned and the door swung open. Bella took a deep breath, feeling slightly shaky right down her toes.

But the butterflies in her stomach were all for nothing, because it was Emmett Cullen, not Edward, who had opened the door. Not that Emmett wasn't very good-looking himself. He was an enormous man, even bigger than Edward and far bulkier. He had gorgeous dimples, curly dark hair and bright blue eyes. Objectively, he was incredibly handsome. But nothing compared to the savage beauty of Edward's face, or the intensity in his eyes. At least, not to Bella.

Emmett was polite, just like his brother, but his disinterest was obvious as he accepted the dry-cleaning from her. No surprise there, of course. Emmett was the one who was married to Rosalie Rochester Cullen, Hollywood's latest and fastest rising star. "Thanks," the bulky Cullen brother said, and he looked about to close the door when he suddenly paused. "Actually," he said, "while you're here, why don't you come in and clean up. I spilled wine on the rug in the spa."

Ah, the spa. One of the many luxuries associated with the penthouse's outrageous price tag. The thought of getting down on her hands and knees to scrub the floor of Edward's spa because his brother was a klutz was less than appealing to Bella, but what the guests wanted, the guests got. Anyway, maybe it would afford her a chance to catch a glimpse of Edward before he checked out the next morning. "Of course," Bella said with a polite smile, and then she followed Emmett across the ridiculously luxurious 4000 square foot penthouse to the spa, where a vivid scarlet stain was rapidly setting into the carpet.

Red wine. Of course it was red wine. And the elaborately woven rug was white. Because the universe hated her.

Technically Bella was strictly a laundry maid and so cleaning the rooms wasn't part of her regular job description, but, she also wasn't supposed to inconvenience a guest by making him wait when she was already there. Anyway, it wasn't as if she didn't have plenty of experience with stains thanks to her hundreds of hours in the hotel laundry room.

"No problem!" Bella said brightly when Emmett gestured to the stain. Her perky response was accompanied by an inner groan. I'm going to be here all night.

"Great, thanks." There was a harsh jangling from the pocket of Emmett's designer jeans, and he pulled out his phone to answer it, turning away from her. "Yeah? You did? Okay, great, I'll be there. No, Edward's still out. I don't know where he is. Well, give him a call. I'll be down in a few."

Bella's shoulders sagged as Emmett hung up his phone and let himself out of the penthouse. So she was stuck cleaning the rug and Edward was nowhere to be seen. On the bright side, at least her shift was nearly over.

Bella was dabbing at the stain with a cleaning cloth when she heard the shrill beep of the penthouse keycard being activated. One of the Cullen brothers was coming back. She set down the rag, preparing to rise to her feet and announce her presence. The spa was in a room just off the suite's living room, and to get to the stain Bella had to crouch behind an enormous chaise lounge. She didn't want whoever was coming in to think that she was sneaking around.

She heard the front door slam open, with surprising force, and then a voice that didn't belong to either of the Cullen brothers assailed her ears. "You've got some balls, Cullen, thinking that you can insult me like this and get away with it!" There was so much raw aggression in the tone that Bella froze right where she was, crouched behind the chaise lounge. Her heartbeat picked up; she'd heard angry men yelling before, but this was different, charged with the threat of potential violence.

"There's no insult, Williamson." That was Edward's voice, and it was cold in a way that Bella had never heard before. "You made a business proposition, and I turned you down. That's business. Happens all the time in our line of work." His tone was much cooler, but no less dangerous, than that of the man called Williamson. Bella shifted slightly, going down on her hands and knees so that she could peer under the chaise lounge. All she could see were their legs and feet. Edward was wearing dark jeans and black combat boots. His hands were loose at his sides. He was tense, she could tell that much from his voice, but his posture seemed confident.

Williamson was wearing purple corduroy pants that were too tight for him, and cheap, fake crocodile-skin boots. He was clearly uneasy, shifting from one foot to the other like he might lash out at any moment. The two men were standing an entire room-length away from her, but they spoke so loudly that she could hear every word.

"You had no reason to turn me down! We could both cash in big-time. I have my sources, I know that the shipment hasn't been delivered yet. You could make one phone call and easily divert it to my buyer and no one would ever be the wiser."

"Except for the Volturi," Edward said. "They're expecting delivery within six hours."

Bella's heart nearly stopped. The Volturi were the most powerful crime family in the world. They were based in Italy, but they had connections in every country and their reach extended all of the way around the globe.

For a minute she couldn't breathe. This can't be happening. These were not small-time criminals, and this was not a small-time dispute. If the Volturi were involved there were likely millions of dollars at stake, and Edward Cullen was a more powerful figure in the criminal underworld than she had ever imagined. Her heart thudded so hard against her ribcage that it was painful. She couldn't announce her presence now. There was no knowing what Edward and Williamson might do. Her best bet was just to stay still and silent, and hope that they left the suite soon.

There was a hissing sound, and Bella realized that the man called Williamson had spat on the floor. "Fuck 'em. Fuck the Volturi. Don't tell me you're afraid of those mamma's boys."

"Far from it," Edward said coolly, "but three of my men are on their compound waiting to finalize the deal. If the merchandise doesn't show up, their lives will be forfeit. I won't get three of my men killed because a coked-up desperado with no impulse control wants me to go back on a deal I've already made so he can cash in. You're the one with debts that need paying, Williamson, not me. If you want a quick payout, find someone who's as desperate as you are."

"Well then fuck you Cullen. And if you think I'm going to take this lying down, you're wrong, man. You're gonna live to regret this."

Edward's voice had the sharp bite of whip. "Don't threaten me. It'll be the last thing you ever do."

There was a tremor in Bella's fingers that traveled steadily up her arms until her entire body was shaking.

"Oh yeah?" There was a rustling sound, as Williamson reached down, yanking up one of his pant legs to reveal a gun holster low on his calf. Bella clapped one hand to her mouth to keep herself from gasping. As Williamson pulled the gun out of the holster and straightened up, Edward's stance changed, and Bella got the impression that he had pulled a gun as well. "How about now, Cullen? Do you see things my way yet?"

"Put that away," Edward sounded irritated, not frightened. "Come on Williamson, neither of us want a mess. Clean up your act and maybe we can do business in the future sometime."

"No!" Williamson really seemed to be losing it. He sounded half-crazed. "We do business now, or you never do any business ever again." Bella watched his feet move as he took two quick steps forward.

"Stop it, Williamson, or I'll stop you," Edward barked a warning, but Williamson was still moving towards him.

There was a sharp snapping sound, three pops in a row, and then silence. It was the sound of a gun with a silencer being fired. The legs that belonged to Williamson began to wobble, and then, as if in slow motion, his body fell face-first onto the carpet. Blood so dark that it was almost black rapidly spread across the floor, staining the carpet beneath him.

Bella's vision nearly went dark. She pulled her hands away from her mouth to cover her eyes, but it was too late. The image of Williamson's body lying on the floor was burned into her brain. Her entire body was flooded with adrenaline, and all she could think was that she wanted to get out of that suite, out of that hotel, away from the body and the blood. I want to go home.

Out in the living room, Edward wasn't making a sound, but there was a beep as someone used the keycard to enter the suite. Within a second, Bella heard Emmett's voice. "Aw, Christ! Edward!"

"I had to," came Edward's deep voice. "The fucker drew on me. He was going to shoot."

"Well, did you at least make sure the maid was out of earshot before you threw down?"

Bella caught her breath in a ragged gasp, freezing with her hands still clapped over her eyes. This was it. She had been caught. She was done for.

"What?" Edward asked.

"The maid, Edward. That short chick who's always making eyes at you? Christ, you did make sure that the maid had left the suite before you shot him, right?"

"You let a maid in here?" The severity of the situation seemed to be rapidly dawning on Edward. Meanwhile, Bella forced herself to uncover her eyes and take a deep breath. She could see their big, booted feet. They were both standing in the living room, a few yards from each other. She could make it to the door, maybe, if she moved like lightening.

"She was cleaning the carpet in the spa when I left." Emmett answered. There was a moment of silence, and Bella made her move. She sprang to her feet, leapt over the chaise lounge with a display of agility that was entirely uncharacteristic, and raced for the door like the suite was on fire.

She hardly glanced at either of the Cullen brothers, too focused on reaching the door, but from the corner of her eye she saw their thunderstruck expressions. For a split second they both seemed frozen in surprise, but at least that gave her enough time to fling the suite door open. A crash from behind her indicated that at least one of them had sprung into action, but Bella couldn't waste any precious seconds looking back to see what was happening. She crossed the suite's threshold and tore down the hall at breakneck speed. The staff elevator was closer than the guest elevator, and probably still on the right floor since it was used much less frequently at this time of night. She skidded on the last few feet of carpet and nearly slammed her head into the elevator, but instead she hit the button with her hand and prayed that it would come in time.

There was a noise from behind her, and Bella whirled around. Edward was sprinting down the hall towards her, his jaw clenched and his face determined.

She had never found him particularly threatening before. Intimidating, sure, given his looks and his status, but never threatening. Now, though, she saw him in an entirely different light. The muscles she had been so drawn to before now seemed like a promise of deadly force, the power with which he carried himself was terrifying, and his great height was alarming.

The elevator doors opened, and Bella threw herself inside, scrambling to hit the button to close the doors.

Edward reached the elevator just as the doors were closing, and he lunged for it, trying to grip the doors and pull them open, but he was a second too late. Still, their eyes met for an instant as the doors slid shut. His light green eyes were vivid with some emotion she couldn't quite read.

"Bella, let's just talk, come on now sweetheart…"

Bella recoiled in a kind of shock as the doors closed. Sweetheart. A few hours ago she would have killed to hear Edward Cullen calling her sweetheart. Now she just hoped that he didn't shoot her. On the other side of the doors, she heard what sounded like Edward's fist hitting the wall in frustration.

Normally the 54-floor elevator ride felt like it took forever, but this time it seemed to pass in a flash. Time seemed to be moving very strangely, and when Bella staggered out of the elevator and into the lobby her legs were still wobbly with adrenaline. She stood there, blinking in the bright light of the lobby, and tried to piece her thoughts together. It was unthinkable to her that the lobby could still look the same as it always had, when her entire life had just changed. And just what the hell was she supposed to do now? Go to the police? To her supervisor? Go home? Forget the whole thing ever happened?

From somewhere behind her the guest elevator dinged, and with a creeping sense of dread, Bella turned and glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, she immediately caught Edward's gaze as he and Emmett strode out of the guest elevator.

Later, it would occur to Bella that the logical thing to do would have been to go to the concierge, but at the time she was overcome with the desire to flee the hotel. She took one look at the approaching Cullen brothers, and she fled from the hotel into the city streets.

Once outside, she barreled past the slew of hotel guests and tourists, searching for a quieter, darker street, somewhere she could vanish into the shadows and go unnoticed. She knew without turning around that Edward and Emmett were following her.

She quickly turned off the main street, and she was sprinting down an alley a few blocks away from the hotel when they caught up to her. When she felt a hand at her elbow she let out a short scream, and the hand closed around her upper arm like iron. With a quick tug, Edward halted her progress down the alley and pulled her back towards him. Emmett was standing next to him, and Edward pushed Bella against the wall of the alley. She opened her mouth to scream again, but Edward's other hand closed over her mouth before she could make a sound.

He leaned down to whisper to her, so that their faces were only a few inches apart. "I'm not going to hurt you," his voice was husky, his breath was hot on her neck, and it did nothing to help her heart-rate. "I just want to talk to you. Just to talk, okay?"

Bella froze.

"Hey," Edward murmured, "it's fine. I just want to talk."

Suddenly, Bella couldn't breathe. Edward's eyes darkened in concern as her breaths turned into labored gasps.

He released her, and Bella immediately turned around, away from him, and pressed her forehead to the brownstone of the neighboring apartment complex. Edward grasped her by the shoulders and turned her around, so that she was facing him. "Just breathe," he told her, "you're having a panic attack."

Bella just moaned and slid down the side of the building until she was seated, with her arms wrapped around her knees.

"She's having a panic attack." Edward reported to Emmett, as though his brother hadn't been standing there for the entire exchange.

"Well, you did just shoot someone in front of her." Emmett responded matter-of-factly.

"I had no idea she was there. And I had no choice. He was going to shoot me. It was the only option." Edward said. "It was self-defense."

"Sure, whatever you say," Emmett smiled.

"I'm serious, just ask…" There was a pause as they both looked down at Bella.

"Just ask the witness?" Emmett finished for his brother.

They stared at her a moment longer. If Bella hadn't felt like her lungs were collapsing, she might have found the scene funny, the way that two enormous, hardened criminals were staring down at a tiny woman with so much concern.

Emmett cocked his head. "Should we kill her?"

Bella nearly vomited.

Edward rounded on his brother, moving like lightning to step in between Bella and Emmett. "What?!"

Emmett shrugged. "I mean, she did witness you murdering someone."

"We're not killing a woman!"

"A woman, or this woman?" Emmett asked slyly.

Now Edward's eyes were really dangerous and glinting with rage. "What the fuck is wrong with you? No one is killing anyone. Now would you just chill out so I can think this through?"

"Honey," Emmett stepped around Edward and crouched down on the balls of his feet so that he was at almost the same height as Bella. He spoke very slowly and clearly, as though she were four years old or didn't understand English very well. "Do you need money? Because we can give you lots and lots of money to stay quiet."

"Of course she needs money," Edward brushed aside his brother's question. "She's a maid in New York City. That could get complicated though. It's hard to pay off a witness without leaving a paper trail, and some times that can be almost as incriminating."

"We could send her to a non-extradition country," Emmett offered. "Like, you know, Belarus."

"Belarus!" Bella's voice was somewhere between a gasp and a sob. She pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to breathe but her horror was growing with every second.

"Thanks, Emmett, great plan." Edward said sarcastically.

"What? I used to date a model from Belarus. She was a great girl."

"So, what? Bella can never come back to the United States? Emmett, this is a real girl with a real job and a real family."

"I realize that." Emmett insisted, unconvincingly.

"Anyway, I wouldn't put it past that FBI bastard Jacob Black to track her down, no matter where we sent her. That fucker is determined."

"Yeah, and he sure has it in for you. That's some bad news man, 'cause he's an expert at breaking people, and she looks the type to fold after about five seconds of questioning. No offense," Emmett added as Bella put her head between her knees.

"Fuck you," she bit out in between gasps.

"Yeah, seriously, shut up Emmett." Edward ran a hand through his hair, anxiously, as he watched Bella rock back and forth.

Emmett ruminated in silence for a few minutes, while Bella tried to get her breathing under control.

"Seems to me there aren't too many good options here," Emmett said when he spoke up again. He began ticking the options off on his fingers. "No killing her. No one-way ticket to Belarus. No bribery… What does that leave? I mean, I guess you could always get married and then she can't be forced to testify."

Edward rounded on his brother. "Really? You're gonna make jokes at a time like this?"

Emmett shrugged in the face of his brother's rage. "It's not a joke, man. That's some real legal shit."

"It sounds like a movie. A really stupid one."

"Yeah, I actually know about it because of this script Rosalie read a while back. Shitty script. Never got made. They were trying to get Franco for the lead…"

"Getting a little off-topic here, Emmett!" Edward broke in. He reached towards Bella, possibly in a way that was supposed to be comforting, but she leaned backwards the moment he moved, pressing her back against the brownstone behind her.

"Yeah, well, anyway, the legal part is real, though."

"That's the dumbest idea I've ever…" Edward's voice trailed off into silence. He frowned pensively.

"Got a better one?"

Edward motioned his brother to silence and checked his watch. "It's 9:30 on the East Coast, which means it's only 6:30 in Vegas. If we take the jet we can get there tonight. Williamson won't be reported missing for days, and if we get Carlisle's guy to take care of the body, then we could be married long before anyone realizes that there's something up."

"And by the time they do realize," Emmett laughed, "they won't be able to make her testify. Just like that," he snapped his fingers, "no more witness."

"Get our Vegas people on the phone," Edward told his brother, "tell them to rush the marriage license through. I want one of them waiting for me, with the license in hand, when we land. Then call Carlisle."

Emmett chuckled. "Boy, is he gonna lose his shit."

There was a hiss of irritation when Edward exhaled. "Tell him that we need his guy to take care of the body tonight. Tell him about Williamson, but not about Bella or the… marriage." Edward hesitated at the word, and his tone changed. "Then call for the car and let the pilot know that we need the G4 up and running."

As the fog of her panic attack receded, Bella picked up her head from between her knees. They weren't serious. Of course not. It wasn't as if they could actually be serious about any of this.

Although this would be a very strange moment for them to stage an elaborate practical joke.

Bella cocked her head, blinking up at them. Emmett had pulled out his phone and was starting to dial, and Edward was studying her with all of his usual intensity, his gaze sweeping her frame as though he were reading her body. The lights from a passing vehicle flashed across his face, illuminating the curve of his lips and jaw. He could have been a fallen angel, gorgeous and dangerous, indecipherable but resolute.

"The car should be here in a few minutes," he told her quietly.

The truth hit her like a hammer. He was perfectly serious.

The legal loophole was true; Bella could remember her father, back when he was still with NYPD, lamenting the fact that perpetrators' spouses could not be compelled to testify.

In Edward's haste to protect his own freedom, and her life, he had settled upon the most absurd solution imaginable.

"Is there anything you need to pick up before we leave?" Edward asked her.

Bella scrambled to her feet, shaking her head. "Oh no. Uh-uh. Like hell am I going anywhere with you." Bella likely would have been more convincing if she hadn't just had a full-blown panic attack, but she pulled herself together. She was the daughter of a retired police sergeant, for God's sake. Her father had been taking her to the shooting range she was six years old. She was not a victim.

"It'll be purely a legality," Edward said softly in what he probably thought was a soothing tone, though it was hard to find a tall, powerful and trained killer particularly comforting. "Nothing weird, no sex expected, nothing like that. Just a piece of paper to keep you from destroying my life."

Bella thought her head would explode when he started talking about sex. As if she'd ever want to share a bed with him! Mr. Pyscho Killer. Sex with Edward Cullen! As if! Firmly repressing any and all memories of a year's worth of fantasizing about precisely that possibility, she clenched her jaw and turned up her chin. "Forget about it. You're insane."

Emmett laughed and put his hand to his chest as if he were touched. "Aww. I can tell already that this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship."

"Look, Emmett, why don't you give us a minute." Edward said. "Make the calls. I'll see you in the car."

"Will do," Emmett said. He paused, casting a final, amused glance at Bella before walking away.

Edward and Bella were left staring warily at each other. He held up his hands non-threateningly, and took a cautious step closer, so that they were only a few feet apart. Bella's instinct was to look at her feet, as was her habit when she was uncomfortable, but she forced herself to look up and meet his eyes instead.

He stared levelly back at her, and she found herself noticing things about him that she had never been close enough to see before. His lashes were long and dark, adding to the natural brilliance of his eyes, and there was just the barest brush of stubble on his chin, accentuating the masculinity of his face.

He watched her as she stared at him, taking in all of the details, and it defied all reason, but there was something oddly calming about his presence. After a moment, she found herself exhaling, and some of her tension evaporated along with her breath.

That was when Edward spoke to her, softly. "Look, I understand how you feel about me right now. I can't blame you, but I really do think that this is the safest solution for everyone involved. It's the only way we can both be protected."

"I don't need to be protected!" Bella insisted. "You do! The only people I need protection from are you and your family!"

Edward shook his head. "That's not entirely true. I have business associates who have a lot of money invested in me, and my business. Even if I called my entire family off and gave you my word that I'd never hurt you, there's no knowing what these associates might do if they found out about you. They'd probably kill you themselves to make sure that you don't send me to prison and wreck our business deals. If my enemies got you, well, they might start threatening you to make you testify. This is the best option for everyone involved. With the resources at my disposal, I can keep you and your family safe, and if you're married to me, then you can't be forced to testify." His eyes darkened. "If you have a boyfriend, you can keep seeing him, it'll just have to be discrete."

"I don't," Bella mumbled.

"What?"

"I don't have a boyfriend," she repeated clearly, looking up at him. She wasn't sure why it was so important that he know that, given that she'd decided to despise him forever only a few minutes ago, but it was. Oddly enough, he looked glad.

She sighed. "I understand what you're saying. And I hate you for putting me in this position, but if, legally, it does offer the most protection for both of us… then I'll do it. I'll marry you."

It was the strangest moment of her life, and as Edward helped her into the sleek black limousine that had pulled up alongside them and was idling at the curb, Bella felt as though she had fallen into another world.