It's been a long road, but Release is fully written. I'll post weekly (or sooner!) through the end of the story. Some of you have DMed me or left kind reviews, and your encouragement has meant the world to me. My beta SerendipitousMC is a wonderful writer and a remarkable friend. I couldn't have done this without her.

Chapter 14

Rosalie Hale sat shaking and panting behind the wheel of her car, feeling more naked than she had when she dropped the towel in front of her mirror this morning. She had no idea how long she'd stared at the reflection of her scars, tracing them, remembering, and later, noticing what wasn't scarred. She'd always known she was still beautiful, but it wasn't something she'd enjoyed anymore. But this morning, gratitude had rushed in on her, almost choking in intensity.

She was alive.

Her abdominal muscles, her breasts, her face, her skin - all were altered, but all were essentially whole. At the most basic level, Royce had failed. Yes, he'd robbed her of essential parts of herself; still, he didn't possess her, and he hadn't destroyed her.

Or so it had seemed before the mirror, with her fingertips wonderingly passing over the remaining shadows of her wounds. Though part of her knew she might never be entirely at ease in her body, it once again felt like her.

Which was perhaps why, when Emmett McCarty phoned and asked her to join him for dinner, she'd taken the risk and said yes. She didn't trust him yet, not by a long shot, but she felt the first flicker of a returning faith in her instincts.

But sitting here in her car in a restaurant parking lot, heart pounding, hands shaking, paralyzed by the risk she'd agreed to take, her body was once again alien. She couldn't - shouldn't - do this. Sweat trickled down her back. She knew nothing about Emmett. Respectable jobs and clean-cut good looks didn't guarantee anything.

A tall, scruffy looking guy approached her car, and her heart kicked up another notch. She started it with a roar and jammed it into gear only to realize, as he raised a hand to hail her, that it was Seth.

Rosalie took a deep breath and rolled down her window. Wandering alone through parking lots? She had half a mind to frisk him for a baggie of pot, but kept her face and voice neutral. "Hey buddy, what's up?"

Seth scowled. "I'm supposed to meet you here." The duh was implied.

"You are?" Hairs prickled at the back of Rosalie's neck, but that's all there was time for before the broad-shouldered figure of Emmett McCarty dwarfed even Seth.

"I hope you don't mind," he said, glancing toward the boy, then focusing completely on her. "I asked Alice Cullen to arrange it. I thought you'd feel safer if ..." he trailed off and shrugged, his gray eyes intent on hers.

"Oh." Her eyes widened in wonder then she composed herself, searching his face, which didn't betray any underlying motive except concern for her comfort. "Well. Thank you."

One corner of his mouth went up then he clapped a hand on Seth's shoulder and steered him out of the way so he could open her door. When he extended his hand, she killed the engine and took it, rising gracefully to her feet. No one had done that for her in a long time, and Rosalie wasn't sure how she felt about it. This kind of attention to her person, rather than her appearance, put her slightly off balance. She raised an eyebrow in thanks rather than saying it again.

But she didn't drop his hand.

And she let him slip his fingers between hers and lead her toward the restaurant. "Are we a table for two or for three?" he asked quietly. Rosalie hesitated, not sure what Seth had been promised, and Emmett quickly said, "Three then," as if either were just fine with him.

Rosalie glanced up at him, and was startled by the undisguised concern on his face. It was clear he wanted her to feel safe, at any cost.

She stopped and turned him toward her, reaching for his other hand. "Two, I think." It felt like stepping off the high dive - terrifying, yet exhilarating.

Emmett squeezed her hands, then released them. He nodded toward her jacket pocket, and wiggled his fingers. She retrieved her keys and warily handed them over.

"Seth?" The boy had been slouching along a pace or two behind them in the traditional third-wheel position. He looked up. "There's a steak in it for you if you sit in Rosalie's car and keep an eye on things while we eat."

"Awesome!" Seth's face lit up as he grabbed the keys.

Rosalie wagged a warning finger at him. "If that car moves even an inch, I will gut you like a fish."

They boy rolled his eyes and turned toward the car.

"And no smoking anything in there. I mean it."

Seth waved a hand of annoyed acknowledgment but didn't look back at her.

She was about to bark orders regarding the stereo, but Emmett tugged her hand. As if reading her mind, he smirked and murmured, "Let him at least crank the tunes, yeah?"

Rosalie grinned sheepishly at him, shaking her head. "Is there food anywhere in my future? Because I'm starving here."

Emmett grinned back, eyes dancing. "Bet I can eat more than you can."

She really liked the playful gleam in his eye.

To her astonishment, this realization made Rosalie Hale blush.

R*E*L*E*A*S*E

If Bella had set out to sabotage their day together, she couldn't have done a better job, Edward fumed.

Was she trying to push him away?

"I'm sorry," she murmured, standing behind him. He could picture her, tentative and fretful. But that was 17-year-old Bella. Instead, she surprised him, resting her hands on his shoulders. She began to pet him, stroking his neck, pressing into tense muscles, establishing a rhythm that soothed him in spite of his irritation. Then she stepped closer and kissed the top of his head.

Edward closed his eyes, riveted by the warmth of her behind him, the occasional brush of her breasts against his back as she eased one tension and fueled another.

"Alice is right - you have to be ready."

He growled when she said Alice's name, but couldn't convey the depth of his ire with her hands in his hair, massaging his scalp. He could still argue, though. "Jenks has seen everything. He knows the whole story. What more is there to say?"

"When you talked with him, what did you expect would happen when you went public with this?"

He didn't answer. He couldn't. Though he'd carefully considered many scenarios, a major collapse of the economy hadn't been among them.

As if reading his mind, Bella went on. "Edward, when this story breaks, it's going to set off a firestorm. You have to be ready."

There was an ache in Bella's voice, a tremor in her hands. She kissed his head again, and it was an unspoken request: don't leave me again.

"Fine," he groaned. He needed an exit strategy that minimized his risk, or at least his prison time. After all this time, he did finally have a future to hope for. Still, he wanted a taste of that future now. "But that's the last interruption, right? Promise me."

Her lips brushed his ear as she whispered, "I promise."

He turned and tugged her hand, pulling her into his lap for a kiss - a kiss cut short by the doorbell announcing the arrival of Anthony Jenks, attorney at law.

R*E*L*E*A*S*E

The meeting had gone longer than Bella anticipated, and when he emerged from it, Edward was clearly agitated. Too agitated for conversation, and not in a mood to be soothed. He shrugged her hands away when she tried.

So she silently handed him a coat, excused herself to bundle up, then tugged him out the back door toward the woods that bordered her property.

He walked ahead, swift and silent, and she didn't object, keeping up, but giving him some space. When he finally began to slow, Bella stopped and waited.

Sure enough, he spun to face her. "How did it start?"

Bella's eyebrows shot up - this was what he wanted to talk about? There were far more pressing matters to work out before Edward became front-page news. But he glared at her surprise, so she decided to give him what he asked for - and then some. Waiting for him during his hours with Jenks had left her edgy, too.

"It's kind of embarrassing, really," she admitted with a rueful chuckle. "I was pretty drunk, and trying to google Kinfolks back home. I had some idea about calling and asking for a pie recipe, I think. It's all kind of hazy." She looked side-eye at him as he fell in beside her. Yes, he was watching her as they walked on. She had his full attention, and it made her squirm. "A typo. I got sloppy, and google asked if I meant 'kink.' I clicked the first link, and ..." Bella swallowed, then continued more confidently now that the personal part of the story was over. She could talk about kinky sex without batting an eye. "I don't know. I saw the pictures, and I wanted to be there. In them. I wanted to be that girl."

It worked well that they were in motion, and that the path through this part of the woods was wide enough to allow them to walk side by side. She could gauge Edward's reactions without looking directly at him.

"What was it?" His voice was gruff. "What were they doing?"

His breathing was shallow, his cheeks blotchy in a way that wasn't likely due to the chill or the minimal exertion of the hike. He'd hate it if he knew she could read these signs of arousal. And that situation was about to get worse, if she knew anything about men in general. Which she did.

"They had her on her knees, teaching her to deepthroat," Bella said, as drily as if she were describing some arcane point in an Austen novel.

"And you didn't just navigate away from it?" Edward looked like he'd been punched, his breathing uneven. No doubt, it wasn't lost on him that this was a version of what she'd seen in the meadow, of what she'd thought he wanted. She'd spent a fair amount of time tormenting herself along those lines in the months after the graduation party. She wondered if he knew how painfully beautiful they'd been: Edward, eyes closed in ecstasy with Tanya on her knees and his cock in her mouth, clearly doing it well. And Bella herself had become an unwilling part of that moment in the meadow - the watching eyes.

She shook her head. "I realized something: I wanted sex to happen to me." She took a breath and continued, "I had my first self-induced orgasm after watching that."

A muscle in his cheek twitched, but he didn't speak or look at her.

"I'd already started fantasizing about being watched." Bella didn't mention that it had begun immediately after the graduation party - a terrible desire to do what Tanya had been doing, and for Edward to be the observer in the trees. "I wanted someone's eyes on me, wanted to do dirty things to please someone who was watching. Like I had to get it right for him, or else."

Edward swallowed audibly, and Bella slowed her steps. They were near the top of a small rise. "Come look," she beckoned. Just over the hill stood the remains of an abandoned cabin. The raised stone hearth was intact, though the top of the fieldstone chimney had fallen down, as had two of the log walls. A door still hung from its rusted hinges.

Edward sank to the ground at the crest of the hill as if the sight of the dilapidated cabin was too much. "So it's not just about wanting pain?" He didn't meet her eyes.

Bella sat beside him and shrugged. "It depends on the scene, but generally, no. I like consequences and discipline, but I'm not a big fan of pain. I'm more into being watched and controlled. Being made to do things, do them correctly and without hesitation, because he says so, or because someone is watching."

She glanced at him, but he sat rigidly still, eyes forward. Dread weighted her belly with certainty that she'd destroyed his belief in her - the Bella he once knew. The heartache had its usual effect. Bella's nipples ached, and she was slippery with need.

Bella stood and backed away a few paces. Very slowly, she unzipped her coat, watching his face as inch after inch of her flesh emerged. She'd stripped off her shirt before donning her down parka, and wore only a balconette bra with half cups. When the jacket opened, her nipples stood out hard and needy.

He wanted to know. She would show him.

She kept her eyes on him as she stroked and squeezed her breasts, rolling the nipples so they would stand out perfectly, pink and inviting - an offering. She was panting now, needing his touch, his acceptance.

Her hands trailed down to the button on her jeans. She opened it, drew down the zipper and slid them down her legs.

Then she knelt and spread her knees.

He wanted her - she could see it in the flush of his skin, the pulse beating frantically in his throat, the erection straining the denim of his jeans. But would he let himself have her, given what he knew now? She wasn't the girl he left behind. Could he love her anyway?

Bella returned a hand to her breast and ran the other one down her belly and between her legs, sliding a finger between her lips to wet it before starting to slowly stroke her clit. She would keep herself on the edge until he either came to her or turned away, repelled.

She had never seen anyone so alive and yet so still. He couldn't take his eyes off of her, but she couldn't read him - would desire win over disgust? Her fingers made wet sounds as they swirled over her clit, begging and inviting him.

Before long, she realized she wouldn't be able to keep her usual control. Whether he moved or not, she was headed for a wrenching, all-encompassing orgasm. She lifted her hips, ashamed but unable to stop.

This was the moment every fantasy had led to. She was naked before him, begging.

Would he turn away?

"Please," she whispered as the rhythm of her hips became more erratic. A terrible ball of heat was building low in her belly, the orgasm gathering force like an approaching storm. Would it drown her if he came to her - or if he didn't? "Please!"

In less than a blink, he was there, mouth at her neck, biting and kissing and cursing, "Don't you dare stop, Bella. Don't you dare." He cupped her breasts, squeezing hard.

"Do it," he growled, "Give it to me." His stubble rasped her neck as he sucked and bit the delicate skin.

She was on the brink, but suddenly terrified of tipping over the edge. Would he hate her once the haze of lust had cleared?

"Let go, Bella!"

"I can't," she sobbed. It was agony. It would always be agony.

His eyes met hers for a moment that seemed to last forever.

R*E*L*E*A*S*E

The flush of her skin, the naked need he'd seen in her eyes - it was too much.

Edward slid two fingers in and set a gentle rhythm, fumbling his button and fly with the other hand. The all-consuming need, almost worship, in her face when his cock sprang free ignited an intensity of lust he'd never before imagined.

He had always loved her. But now, he would consume her.

Edward shuffled forward on his knees and she opened her mouth greedily, raising her head to meet his cock, and holding his eyes with a hunger and pleasure as consuming as his own. Her hands were on his ass, urging him in deep as her mouth enveloped him.

She moaned, her eyes rolling back, but in spite of the pleasure, Edward couldn't bear the connection of Bella's eyes, the woods and ... no.

They would not re-enact the scene with Tanya.

His fingers slipped out of her as he pulled out of her mouth, and the hurt that flashed in her eyes was unbearable. He needed to reach her, show her, make her feel.

"Don't you dare look away," he rasped, bending to kiss her, fast and fierce. Then he pulled her by the hips, lifting her ass onto his thighs, clasping her legs to his chest, his straining cock pressed hard against her.

He stared into her eyes, spread her legs and slid into her. "Look," he commanded, though really, it was a plea from his soul.

He pulled out of her for a moment and nodded downward; her gaze followed. His cock strained toward her, harder and longer than he could ever remember it. She let out a small cry as he touched against her, then pushed in, burying himself to the hilt. "This is us, Bella. This is us."

He set a steady, inexorable rhythm that should have finished him in moments, but he felt as if he could last forever.

Bella groaned, a sound that swelled his heart and his cock. "Do you feel it?" he gritted, controlling the pace, deepening the penetration. "Do you?" He was giving her all of him - his need, his anger and loss, his love for the past ten years.

Bella, suddenly frantic, bucked up to meet him. He buried himself deep, holding her so she couldn't move.

He rolled his hips, stilled, rolled again, prolonging the pleasure until Bella's skin glowed with sweat. The sun was setting, and in the twilight, she shone like alabaster.

He spread her legs and stretched out over her, never faltering, and kissed her as hard and deep as he could, teeth clinking against hers once in the overriding need to be one.

"You're going to come for me now, Bella," he said, his voice straining with pleasure. "I want you to come."

He could see how she fought against the tide, even as she strained toward him, whispering "Edward," again and again. He strove on, refusing to change pace or let go, though he was ready to explode. Thankfully, he could see her resistance weakened with every stroke.

She whispered, "please," as he pleaded, "now," and he felt her begin to quicken.

Knowing it was happening, that Bella was surrendering to him, filled his heart, and drove him through the last staggering strokes of his release.

R*E*L*E*A*S*E

"Stay. Please." Bella clung to Edward, resisting when he tried to roll off of her, though a chilly dusk had fallen. She couldn't bear separation, or to see his face. While they were joined, nothing could take away the connection.

Edward stilled, holding her tighter, nose buried in her hair, breathing gradually slowing, until her traitorous body shivered. Then he pulled away and rose, turning his back to her as he righted his pants.

Shame coursed through her at the sight of his hunched shoulders, and she scrambled to retrieve her parka, zipping it and pulling up the hood before retrieving her jeans and boots. Somehow, she was dressed before him.

As soon as he turned to her, she started toward the house, at a pace that wasn't quite running, but definitely precluded conversation.

He had every right to hate her now. She'd manipulated him. Used her body to draw him in, possibly against his better judgment.

Judgment.

Bella broke into a run.

She'd seen it in his eyes enough over the last 24 hours. Seen his shock, his disgust, even his pity and reflex to protect, all layered with the predictable desire that fantasized versions of her lifestyle inspired.

He'd sated his curiosity now. She'd told him how it started, and he'd seen her in action. Perhaps he'd satisfied himself that her sexual proclivities weren't his fault.

If that was all he needed from her, he'd leave soon, and Bella would be ready.

Because it was what she deserved.

She was nearly to the back porch when he tackled her from behind. They rolled to a halt on the damp grass, his arms around her like the protective bars of a cage. He turned her, almost shaking her. "I won't let you get away," he gasped. The unspoken unless you want me to clear in his eyes.

Bella ghosted her fingers over his lips. "I'm sorry."

He pulled her close and whispered, "I'm scared too."

She kissed his cheek first, then his nose and forehead, tears streaming down her cheeks.

She murmured, "ghosts," and gave a watery giggle, relieved when he laughed along.

Eventually they stood, brushing debris from each other's hair. Then they ascend the porch steps hand in hand.

R*E*L*E*A*S*E

Edward shrugged out of his coat when they got inside, but stilled Bella's hands over her zipper. "You're killing me, here," he chuckled, then steered her toward the hallway and clothing.

Bella turned into her bedroom, then poked her head out again. "Can you stay?" Her voice conveyed what she didn't say - for supper, for the night, forever? Though she'd tried for teasing, he heard the note of uncertainty.

He leaned, shoulder against the entry to the kitchen. "Yeah, I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

She gave him a warm, full smile, lit from within, and disappeared into the bedroom.

He stood a moment, savoring the possibility of routine and ease, which might seem dull in the abstract, but became ripe with potential with the addition of two crucial words: with Bella.

She was back then, in a soft sweater that invited touch, and came straight into his arms. "Should we figure out some supper?"

He smiled as he kissed her forehead. They would have a lot to figure out. But tonight, feeding her and holding her were enough.

R*E*L*E*A*S*E

By Monday morning, the Dow was poised for another precipitous drop, following a disastrous trading day in Asia and Europe, and Emmett had new orders from his editor: break this story in the next 48 hours.

Given the amount of time he'd spent with Edward's boxes of papers, and his assistant with the boxes that remained in New York, Emmett was confident he could do even better.

He grinned in spite of himself, sitting alone in his car at 6:48 a.m. in a crumbling parking lot in a sketchy neighborhood, recalling his evening with Rosalie.

For a guy who hadn't even tried to score a goodnight kiss, he was riding high.

She was unbelievable, really. Damn smart, wickedly funny, freakishly perceptive. Gorgeous too, but for anyone paying attention, her beauty was the least of of it. There were plenty of beautiful women - Emmett had dated his fair share of them. But there was not another Rosalie Hale.

And she didn't hate him anymore, he was certain. He'd made a solid step toward winning her trust, and that small victory was worth more to him than some of the things he'd bragged about in his younger, wilder days.

Bella had delivered Edward to Jenks' office at 7 a.m. sharp, as promised, along with large cups of take-out coffee and a remarkable array of foodstuffs, from pastry and bagels to fruit and hardboiled eggs. Hardboiled eggs being a personal favorite, Emmett took this as a particularly good omen. Suddenly, he was feeling lucky.

"Ready?" He glanced at Edward, who looked grim but composed, seated in the conference room of Jenks' shabby office.

Edward nodded.

Emmett clapped his hands and rubbed his palms together, almost gleeful. "So, he billed himself as a wholesale market-making firm? He didn't collect a management fee?"

R*E*L*E*A*S*E

This would all be much harder without off-shore accounts and months in which to plan, Eleazar knew. He wasn't grateful, exactly - he didn't feel much of anything anymore - but he did appreciate the machinery at his disposal.

Money made so many things possible. He'd used it to great effect for most of his life, especially after Irina died.

Eleazar stood before the mirror in a hotel room registered to Jeffrey Hanes and smiled a grim smile as he tugged a skull cap over his hair and tucked in the tell-tale ends.

Died. The word, smooth and simple as a stone, caught him up short for a moment.

She'd killed herself in a way calculated to remain with him until the end of his days. He still woke sometimes in a terror, her body swinging before him again. She'd dressed herself carefully, even worn the necklace he'd once asked her never to remove. It hung just below the noose she'd made with the tie of a silk bathrobe he'd given her that fateful day.

Eleazar blinked away stinging tears and examined his reflection with one blue contact lens in place. He peeled back the plastic seal on the next lens and placed it in his eye, blinking hard and fast.

He'd purchased that robe with the plan to slip it from her shoulders and spend the day in bed with her, not calculating that Irina had plans of her own. She'd pressed him for a commitment. Then she'd given him an ultimatum.

He'd wanted her so desperately that it simply wasn't possible that she could ever not be his. Their passion was outsized, grand, impossible to bind to convention. What was marriage to what they had?

But she'd wanted to be his wife. She'd wanted him to give up Carmen.

He hadn't seen what the two had to do with each other. Carmen was his rock; Irina was his sun

and oxygen. He would make her understand.

Eleazar placed the dental prosthetic, sucking it back against his upper teeth as the instructions indicated. It tasted the way rubber smelled, which seemed wrong since it didn't actually smell like anything.

Though the difference wasn't nearly as profound as the other changes in his disguise, this one unsettled him the most. Somehow, he thought ironically, it would make every word he spoke a lie.

After hours of Irina's arguing and obstinance, he'd kissed her savagely, cutting off any further objections. "You can't change this," he'd growled, shaking her slightly before shoving her away and rushing out of her apartment, door slamming behind him, thinking that she'd see reason before he came back for the evening.

It never occurred to him that she wouldn't greet him at the door, hair coiffed, makeup perfect, in the robe he'd given her.

Instead, he found a loss he couldn't redeem with love or money.

It troubled Eleazar to fold up his suit and don the khakis and polo shirt of an anonymous business-class traveler. The shoes, department store loafers, reminded him, shamefully, of his college days, and life before he'd acquired the kind of money that permitted complete connoisseurship. He slid a cheap leather belt through the loops, and slipped a similarly cheap wallet into the breast pocket of an off-the-rack sport jacket.

Transformation complete, Eleazar examined himself in the mirror. His own daughters - Irina's girls - wouldn't recognize him now. The wallet contained false identification and credit cards. He now pocketed a passport in that name. With the keys to a car rented under his alias, Eleazar left the room, confident in his anonymity.

His money had not bought happiness, but it was buying him an exit on his own terms. By this time tomorrow, he would be on a little-known island off the coast of Rio de Janeiro which was privately owned by a non-existent Brazilian businessman.

He'd lie low for a few months, then travel on in comfortable, inconspicuous anonymity.

R*E*L*E*A*S*E

I'm not in the financial world, so I picked the brain of a wonderful and knowledgeable reader, domysticated, who was an inestimable help. Thank you so much, lovely. I also read some informative news articles, especially one from Forbes in from January 2009. Since I can't post the link here, I suggest you search for Madoff Forbes January 2009 - you'll find it. Brilliant resources only take me so far: any errors in understanding the financial system are entirely mine.