EPOV
It's cold in Paris. It seeps into my bones and makes me ache, the way it seeps into my breath, turning it into small clouds. It was colder in Chicago when I left, but this feels different. Or maybe it's me, my own dynamic. Here, I only have small amounts of power. Some control in small areas, thanks to the Family who still work in Italy and take the time to maintain the power in our home country. Italy is ours. Chicago is entirely mine.
Bella would love the Paris cold. She loves any chance to wear a pretty coat and high heeled boots. She's damn near fluent in French. Italian, too, just from her time with me. She fits in well here, with her penchant for natural hair and bare skin and lipstick and an appreciation for tiny portions of rich food. If I close my eyes, I can picture her sitting across from me at Café de Flore, sipping her coffee and letting her eyes wander as she watches couples and families eating, barely picking at her food. The damn girl doesn't know how to eat. The last time I saw her, she was entirely too thin. I wondered if she ever ate when I wasn't home. I was never home.
Reopening my eyes, I find myself looking across the table at Jasper and Alice, who are eating while Alice flips through her magazine and giggles as she points things out to Jasper. Seeing them together, on top of the resentment I already feel for my brother, has made for an uncomfortable past few days. I ache for a bump. Instead, I clear my throat.
"How is your home recouping while you're gone, brother?" I ask Jasper, taking a sip of the black coffee in front of me. He looks at me, raising an eyebrow and finishing his bite of quiche.
"Jacob Black is handling things. He's quite talented. Takes after his father." Alice glances at Jasper, then me at the mention of Jacob Black. I feel my eyes narrow.
"And what has been the delay with him getting into the business?" I ask, straightening in my chair, recalling vaguely past conversations about this boy.
"Billy wanted him to get a legit degree first. A cover, I suppose." Jasper shrugs. I nod.
"Yes. A cover." I agree, but I'm thinking about this boy I don't know, taking care of things in my family business. I can't help but feel suspicious of him, especially with Alice looking so nervously between us. My phone buzzes in my hand and I glance down. It's a text from Carlisle.
I have James here, refusing to leave. Says he saw your wife. He wants to speak to you in person.
I feel even colder now, at the mention of my wife. I physically ache for her, although this isn't a new feeling. I ached for months before she left. But at least then she was still close. I could still breathe in the scent of her hair as she slept turned away from me, crumpled tissue in her hand. Now, it feels as if she didn't even exist, except for in my memories and in the massive hole inside my chest.
The only James I know who would even have the balls to approach my father is that messy fuck, James O'Brien. Leader of the American syndicate of the Irish Mob by default. Someone killed his father and he took over. I've never liked him. Not only is he loud and drunk half the time, but he lacks power in his home country. His group holds the most power in America, and even that has been overshadowed by what Cosa Nostra has accomplished.
I look up at Jasper, who glances away. James works for the Irish. The Irish just broke into a Cullen home. Now, they have information about my wife. Jasper has been watching me intently for days. Turning down my aid and men in response to an attack from a rival gang. His wife has been nervous around me, and Lord knows what part Jacob Black plays in all of this.
I feel rage settling into my entire being, filling me with a fire. I shoot off a text to someone with me to have the plane ready in an hour. The business with Le Milieu could wait. I stand suddenly, and the few guards with me stand from their respective tables just as quickly. Jasper looks up at me, eyes wide for a second before he gains control.
"Everything all right, brother?" he asks, continuing to eat. Alice looks between us even more frantically.
"I'm going back to Chicago. This is boring me. I'll cancel the remaining meetings with the French." I button up my suit jacket and pull on my trench coat. Jasper is watching me warily.
"You two enjoy a few romantic days together." I tell them, trying to control the raging fire that wants to burn through my words, through my gaze. I'm overflowing with flames, and I can't control myself. "Savor your marriage." I can't help but spit at them, as I turn and leave them behind, staring after me and my men as we head towards the only hope I've had for weeks.
The plane ride back to Chicago felt like it took much longer than it did. I continued to burn the entire trip, my constantly turning thoughts only stoking the flames. Is Bella in Miami? Does Jasper have something to do with this? Is he working against me? Against the family? Is he aiming for my position?
By the time I reach my father's office, I'm out of control. Flames lick around me, and people can see how I'm burning. They stay away, taking steps back or looking anywhere but at me. I'm sure I look crazy. I feel it, and I haven't even had a drink since before I left Paris.
Carlisle is in his office with Billy Black when I arrive. I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously, but focus instead on my father.
"Where's the Irishman?" I demand, and Carlisle looks at me passively.
"He's in Jasper's old office. It's the only empty room we have. He came back this morning to wait for you."
"Did he say where he saw Bella?"
"No. But you need to be careful, Edward. You're volatile, running off of your emotions. He will make demands, and I don't need you destroying the business over that girl."
"That girl?" I snarl, nostrils flaring. "That girl is my wife. Have a little respect." I start to turn, but he's not done talking. He likes to have the last word.
"You hardly respect her, why should I?" He sounds calm, but his voice is hard. Ice.
I freeze. Where he is cold, I am a pillar of fire, and I rage as I turn back to him.
"You of all people can't say that, since you were the one forcing other women on me. How many times did I tell you I didn't want to be that way?"
"And yet you did anyway," he replied passively. "You gave into the pressure I put on you, just like you'll give into the pressure James puts on you. You're impatient. You wanted my approval, you gave in. You want to know where your wife has run off to, you'll give in." He shakes his head at me, like I'm a child that he's reprimanding. Like what I've said is foolish. "And as far as respect goes, do you think I stop respecting your mother? That I avoid her every night? That I barely look at her, barely touch her? Leave her to her own devices, isolating her from everything and everyone? No. Despite anything else I do, whoever else I've been with, I show your mother the attention and affection she deserves. I help her find things to do, ways to fill her time. I let her go to her therapist. I tell her the truth about anyone I've been with. Can you truly say the same?"
I couldn't. And he knew that. So instead of responding, I turn away, heading towards where James is, knowing that if I'm on fire, I can at least burn him with me.
A/N
Alright, people. Please don't hate me.
I know I'm late again. So, so late. I'm sorry. I have the next chapter written, however, so you can expect another update soon. I can't promise a schedule, but I can promise that this story will be finished. I love to read the reviews, ideas and comments you leave behind for me. I may not respond or be as active as most would like, but I promise, I hear and see everything you're saying! Thank you all for dealing with me. Soon. xx