All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the author. No copying or reproduction of this work in any language is permitted without the express written authorization of the author. Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. Thank you. August 2010.
A million thanks to my wonderful beta xrxdanixrx, who provides the banner, and writes four amazing stories: Don't Try to Save Me, At Your Own Risk, Hate Me, and Here We Go Again. She's amazing!
Many thanks to Twilighted Beta – Shabbyapple.
A very special thank you to MizzezPattinson, who goes above and beyond on a daily basis. She is truly a wonderful friend and I thank her from the bottom of my heart for everything she does – including pre-reading this chapter for me and providing the new blinkie. Much love, hun! XO
Thanks to all reading and reviewing. Your reviews mean everything.
So, you liked the ice wine, did you? Yes-it does exist and I would urge you to treat yourself and try some.
On with the rest of the morning. Come, join me.
BPOV
Ch 25
I leave him in the bathroom with the steam rising. I can't believe he wants to see this. I am fully aware of just how much I've underestimated Edward. Last night was beyond incredible, and while I seriously hoped that Edward would accept and understand this, part of me truly thought when it came right down to it, he would bolt. I feel horrible for doubting him, even though every single experience I've had to date with men pushed me to that conclusion. And yet, here I am, standing in front of the closet, about to show him my swim leg. It's unfathomable that we've come this far in such a short period of time.
My hands shake while I pick it up, and take it back to the bathroom. He's standing at the vanity, the shower now off, the steam thicker in the room. He breaks into the seductive smile that he knows affects every woman within a five mile radius, and takes a step towards me.
"Explain this to me. I want to try to understand," he says sincerely.
I hesitate for a moment, completely overwhelmed by him. Edward Cullen could have anyone he wants, and yet, he's standing in my bathroom, looking eager and hot as hell, waiting for me to share one of the most personal pieces of my life. I'm not really even sure where to start, but I know I want to. I've never wanted anything as much as I want for him to understand this. "Not everyone has a swim leg. Some people I know have a shower stool, or they hop on one foot in the shower, which obviously can be dangerous. Actually, taking a shower is probably one of the most dangerous things you can do as a leg amputee. It's slippery at the best of times, and I know a lot of people who have had some pretty nasty falls," I explain while he stares back at me, his expression unreadable as he takes in my words. "Also, shower floors aren't usually even, and the stool can be unstable. It's hard to reach shampoo and soap when you're sitting down and you didn't put them right in front of you before you got in." I shake my head and stare at the floor, afraid to see his reaction. He cups my chin and tilts it up, nodding his head in encouragement.
"I had Emmett install a couple of bars in the shower after the accident, but even with those, I still fell quite a bit. It's surprisingly hard to wash your hair when you're hanging onto a bar at the same time. So I opted for the swim leg." I hand it to him and he gently takes it from me, examining it closely, furrowing his brow. "This way, if I ever travel anywhere, or go swimming, I feel more…normal, if that makes sense."
He turns it over softly in his hands. "It's completely different than your usual one," he marvels, running his fingers reverently across it.
"It's waterproof and made from materials that won't corrode. There are anti slip treads on the bottom of the foot," I explain, turning it upside down to show him and waiting nervously for his reaction.
"So, this is what you would take to the beach?" he asks, locking his eyes with mine.
"Yeah. If I ever went."
"You don't go to the beach?" he asks, looking concerned.
"Not very often," I admit.
"Because of this?"
"No. Because it usually ends up with Rose and Emmett dry humping next to the sandcastle he's made for her, and there's only so much of that I can stomach."
He snickers and nods his head. "Right." I move to sit on the edge of the tub, and he places the swim leg gently on the mat. "Let me do it? Please?" he asks quietly.
I nod my head and he runs his fingers along the waistband of my yoga pants, gently tugging them down and leaving them on the floor. It's hard to get used to someone touching me like this…when I'm completely vulnerable, but each time we do it, it gets a little easier. My muscles tense while he flattens his hands down my thigh to the top of the prosthetic, gently twisting and releasing it, looking at me questioningly. "I'm just going to put it on again, so I don't have to do the whole cleaning regime. I can just wipe it down," I explain.
"I'll do it." He moves to the vanity and pulls out a fresh cloth, running it gently over the prosthetic. "What about baths?" he asks suddenly.
Baths…hmmm. Edward in the bath tub. My mind reels at that visual and he lifts his head to me, looking at me questioningly. I feel the heat rise in my face and look away from him. "Baths are ok. I don't wear a prosthetic in the bath. But it's tricky getting in and out. You can easily fall, and I have before," I ramble.
"Hmm...so, if we wanted to be...spontaneous at say, my place, and you didn't have the swim leg, we could take a bath?" he asks, arching an eyebrow to me.
I smirk and nod my head at him. "Yeah, we could take a bath. I just need to be really careful to not slip," I answer, trying to hide my amusement.
"Then we'll be careful," he says, placing the prosthetic on the rack. He moves back to me and watches in fascination while I slide the swim leg on. He smiles widely. "So, I should have the swim leg in here when the mood strikes to take you in the shower."
"Is that what you're planning on doing? Taking me in shower?" I ask, cocking my head to the side at him.
A look of panic takes over his face. "Shit! No. I mean yes...God, yes. But I know we're not there yet, and that's ok." He holds out his hand to me and pulls me up from the side of the tub. "You are an amazing woman, Bella Swan."
"Edward, we don't have to do this right now. I know this is a lot to digest and that you may not be entirely-" My concern is silenced as he crushes his lips to mine, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me into his chest.
His hand travels down to my ass and he squeezes gently. "Take a shower with me. Please?" he asks, stilling his lips over mine.
My mouth goes dry and I just nod my head in agreement. He smirks at me and opens the door to the shower, turning it on and adjusting the temperature. He grabs the hem of his t-shirt and whisks it over his head, exposing his toned chest to me. I gawk openly at him...there's no way I can't. The man is pure perfection and I suddenly feel very, very inadequate as I stand in just my tank top and panties in front of him.
"Bella? Are you sure?" he asks, closing the distance between us.
I somehow find the ability to speak. "I want to, it's just. You're…"
"I'm nothing," he says, cupping my face between his hands. "I'm just a guy who wants to take a shower…with you." He traces the shoulder of my tank top with his fingers and lifts his eyebrows to me, silently asking permission.
I lift it up and over my head, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of our clothes. He removes his running pants and stands before me, completely naked…gloriously naked, while I fumble to remove my panties. 'You are beautiful, Bella," he says hoarsely. Before I can protest, he wraps his arms around my waist, and kisses me, lifting me straight up and into the shower, shutting the door behind him.
I can't control the fit of laughter as the water sprays down between us and he sets me down gently. "You're laugh is intoxicating," he says, brushing the wet hair from my face, his expression now serious. He trails his fingers down my jaw, ghosting them over the column of my neck, along my collarbone and between my breasts. He slowly traces the outline of one, and then the other breast, causing my nipples to get instantly harder while the moisture pools between my thighs. Ever fibre in my body tingles, and he's only touched me for a few seconds.
He stops and shuts his eyes, his fingers tracing my navel, his breath coming in gasps. "Tell me what you want me to do," he breathes, his voice shaky.
He opens his eyes to me, his hair fantastically wet and dripping down over his face. I reach for the soap on the ledge beside us and hold it in my palm in front of me. "Normally, you use soap in the shower," I tease.
He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing quickly, and he chuckles. "Soap…right," he says, taking the bar from me and pressing his torso forward. My eyes grow wide as I feel his erection against me. He slowly runs the soap down one arm, up my side and then down the other arm. He bends his neck and takes my nipple into his mouth, moaning while he circles the soap across my stomach. My head lolls back and I lean against the tile while he begins his wondrous exploration.
He glides the soap up and over each breast, his eyes locked to mine. Leaning forward, he brushes his lips over mine softly, and then more forcefully, his tongue sliding and tasting, his free hand wrapping around my waist. My fingers work into his wet hair, urging him closer. He moves the soap down to my hip, circling slowly, deepening the kiss in the process while he inches slowly down my inner thigh.
I feel my muscles clench while he moves the soap up, grazing outside my folds deliberately in the process. I gasp and he stops, pulling back and looking at me cautiously. "Do you want me stop?"
I shake my head and he smiles devilishly before sinking down in front of me. "Edward, wha…" He skims the soap up my leg, gently rubbing the calf and working his way between my thighs. I shut my eyes, savouring every touch, every emotion it's bringing out in me, until I hear the unmistakable sound of the soap hitting the floor.
I look down and see his fingers lathered with soap. He looks up at me and then slowly traces his fingers across my pubic bone and finally dips them between my folds. The feeling is overpowering; his pace gentle and slow, causing me to jerk my hips forward with unbridled want. "Edward, don't tease me," I mutter, which only serves to slow his pace, his fingers curling while he moves them slowly in and out, a sensual, torturous rhythm.
I reach for the shower bar, glad for the first time in my life that it's here. He reaches up and removes my hand from the bar, resting it in his hair. "Here," he growls, flattening his tongue over my hip, his breath hot against my skin. My heart hammers against my chest, his fingers twisting and stretching, his tongue tentatively moving lower.
He trails slowly down, his tongue replacing his fingers, and I know I'm seconds away from loosing complete control. He grabs my ass and moans, his tongue circling my clit, my fingers twisting in his hair, pressing him closer. My entire body is on fire, it's never been this intense. I'm practically panting, the water starting to cool while it falls around us. "Fuck, Bella," he growls. "Do you like that?"
Oh my God! Don't break out the dirty talk. I let out something between a moan and a cry, followed by his name, while I grip his hair harder. I don't want him to stop, but unbelievably he does. He rises up, his fingers replacing his tongue. "I asked if you liked that," he mutters, stilling his fingers inside of me. "Do you like feeling me inside of you?"
"Hmmm, yes," I growl, his fingers starting to move faster and deeper this time, my hips arching towards him as the pressure builds. "Edward…" He brings his lips to mine as the warmth engulfs me, my entire body pulsating and clenching with the intensity of the greatest orgasm I think I've ever had. I collapse my weight onto him, unable to stand straight, my leg shaking, his arms wrapping around my waist to hold me up.
I rest my cheek onto his chest, my breathing completely out of control. He kisses and then bites my shoulder, removing one hand from my waist and pumping himself only three times before he releases violently, his head thrown back, his breathing ragged. "For the love of fucking God, Bella," he breathes, resting his forehead on mine.
"No good?" I ask warily, my body sinking back against the wet tile.
"So good. So fucking good," he murmurs, running both of his hands down my breasts and stilling them on my waist. "Are you alright?"
"I'd say I'm better than alright, Edward," I answer, laughing at him while I start to shiver.
He nips my neck, brushing my hair from my face, and then urgently kisses me. "You taste incredible, Bella. Can we do this again?" he asks innocently.
I cup his face and nod my head at him. "Yeah. We can do this again." My laughter fills the confines of the shower.
He sighs and leans back, looking down at the swim leg. "It's ok?" he asks nervously.
"Yeah, its fine. I'm starting to get cold, though," I answer.
"Shit. I'm sorry. Here." He hands me the shampoo bottle and I quickly lather up a dollop, washing my hair and rinsing it out while he picks up the soap and runs it along my breasts and my stomach, watching in fascination as the bubbles run off me.
"Just making sure you're clean," he says sarcastically.
I take the soap from him and run it along his length while his eyes grow wide. "I think we're clean," I whisper, reaching behind me and turning the water off.
He narrows his eyes at me and then opens the shower door, grabbing a towel from the rack and moving back to me. He slowly wraps it around me and presses his lips to mine while he lifts me out of the shower and carries me to the bedroom.
He sets me on the edge of the bed, never breaking the kiss, and starts to move over me, coaxing me back. I flatten my hands against his chest and push him back slightly. "I have to get ready for work, Edward." He lets out a heavy breath and pulls away reluctantly. "I want to. I do. I just don't want to rush this, ok? I mean, the shower, last night…it's all pretty massive for me. And when we do this, I don't want to be worried about having to be somewhere else. I'm sorry," I say quietly.
"Fuck, don't be sorry, Bella. I'm the one who's sorry. You know what you do to me. I have a permanent walking hard on around you. I didn't mean to push you."
I sit up and laugh at his openness. "You're not pushing me, ok? Trust me. I'll never do anything I don't want to. You should know that about me by now."
He chuckles and runs his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, you're right about that," he admits.
I push up off the bed, holding the towel closed at my chest, and he sits down, leaning back on his elbows and watches while I pick out clothes from the closet. Focus, Bella! "What are you going to do today?" I ask, moving back to the bathroom.
"Paint. I'm feeling extremely inspired," he calls to me. I smile, set the clothes on the floor, and sit on the edge of the tub. I remove the swim leg, drying it and my limb thoroughly with the towel. I stand and hop to get my prosthetic, but he's beat me to it and is standing at the drying rack, naked with the prosthetic in his hands.
He brings it to me and narrows his eyes. 'You shouldn't have to hop to get this," he says quietly.
"It's not like I haven't done it before, Edward. It's part of my life."
"You didn't have me before," he says firmly.
I steady myself on the vanity and try to explain this to him. "I appreciate what you're trying to do. I really do. But I can handle myself. The last thing I want is for you to feel sorry for me or try to do things for me because you think I can't, or that it's too hard. I don't want pity. Do you know how long I've waited to share this with someone? How long I've waited for you?"
He lets out a shaky breath. "I'm sorry. I'm just trying to…"
"Please, don't treat me differently because of this. Please, Edward. I'm just Bella, ok?" He nods his head and hands the prosthetic to me. I take it from him and hop back to the edge of the tub. "You need to put some clothes on," I suggest, trying not to look at his massive erection.
He snickers at me. "I'm going to be taking another shower, so what's the point?" he asks, leaning back against the vanity.
"Another shower?" I question, sitting down to put the prosthetic on and trying to not think about the fact that he's naked…in my bathroom. Oh, the possibilities. Remember to focus, Bella!
"Hmmm. I need another shower…for many reasons," he says, his eyes darkening while they linger on the towel that's starting to open around my chest.
I shake my head at him and retreat back to the bedroom. I hear the shower turn on a few moments later while I finish dressing. I squeeze the dampness out of my hair and blow it dry quickly, trying to think about budgets and planning for the auction to distract me from the fact that he's back in the shower, magnificently naked. Count to ten…count to ten. Soon, Bella.
The shower is still on, the steam in the bathroom heavy when I poke my head in. "I'll leave a key by the front door for you," I say, seeing the outline of his body behind the misted shower door.
"Oh, wait," he says urgently. He turns the shower off and opens the door.
"Can I see you tonight? We could go out for dinner…that is, if you trust my choice in restaurants," he says casually, reaching for a towel and starting to dry himself off.
"I'm supposed to have dinner at my mom's tonight," I say, watching as he runs the towel through his hair and then wraps it around his waist. You have to go to work…you have to go to work.
"Oh," he says almost sadly.
"Would you like to come?" I offer.
"Well, when you put it that way…"
I roll my eyes at him and shake my head. "Pick me up around 6:30."
"Yes, ma'am," he murmurs, smirking at me.
"Oh and, Edward? Try not to be late this time," I say, returning the smirk and making my way out the door, feeling better than I have in a very, very long time.
I'm only about ten minutes late after navigating the morning line from hell to get Rose and me a latte. I'm greeted in reception by Lauren, who is more chipper than normal, and wearing a tight blue dress that dips to reveal most of her cleavage. "How was your weekend, Bella?" she practically sings to me.
"It was good. Yours, Lauren?" I ask, trying to at least sound cordial.
"It was great. I called Edward last night to ask him to the auction. Can you believe it? I left a message on his voice mail. Do you think he'll call me back?" she asks, her eyes wide with anticipation.
"I wouldn't hold my breath, Lauren," I say, smirking and brushing past her desk and into Rose's office while she gapes at me.
"How was the rest of your night?" Rose asks, looking up from behind her computer.
I set her latte in front of her. "It was good," I say coyly, slumping into the chair.
"Just good?" she asks, narrowing her eyes at me.
"Really good," I say, trying to hide my smile behind the cup.
"And that means…"
"He stayed," I say, casually taking a sip.
"Oh. My. God! He stayed!" she screams.
"Shhh! Keep your voice down! Yeah, he stayed."
"And?" she presses, her eyes wide with anticipation.
"And he's…"
"He's what? Got stamina? Brought you to orgasm multiple times? What?"
"Rose! I'm so not having this conversation with you!"
"Well, whatever happened last night, you look happy, and that's all that really matters to me. Oh, wait. Do I need to get you more condoms?" she asks, her voice now serious.
"I'm leaving now," I grumble, getting up and making my way to the door while she laughs at my embarrassment.
"Remember, we need to go to James' studio later today. Let me know if your schedule is clear after lunch, ok?" she asks.
That question makes me stop dead in my tracks and turn back to her. "Do we really need to do that?"
"Of course we do. He offered to donate something, and we told him we'd come take a look today," she says.
"OK, but we are in and out of there fast, alright?"
"What's gotten into you?" she asks.
"Just something Edward said about him. I don't think they exactly see eye to eye."
"Hmm. Sounds like someone is jealous," she teases, arching her eyebrow to me.
"Let's just say he wasn't exactly impressed about James being involved in the auction. Thanks for that, by the way."
"Hey, I'm just trying to make sure we raise as much money as we can," she reminds me.
"I know that, but we haven't even seen his work."
"I'm sure its fine," she says dismissively.
"Alright. I'll check my calendar and let you know what works."
She nods her head and busies herself behind her computer while I make my way to my office and get settled for another morning buried in spreadsheets.
It's almost two o'clock when we park outside of James' art supply store. We're greeted by a mutter from a bored teenager who looks like he wants to be anywhere but working behind the cash register. Rose quirks an eyebrow to me as he completely ignores us while we stand at the counter. "Is James here?" I ask.
He raises his head to me and his eyes grow wide. "You're the chick in the painting. That's hot, man," he says, raking his eyes up and down me and running his tongue along the piercing in his lip.
I feel a shiver go down my spine and my mouth goes dry. "What painting?" I ask warily.
"The one he's been working on for like the last two days straight." Rose looks at me questioningly. "He's back there." The kid nods his head towards the back of the store. I follow Rose as we make our way through the aisles of painting supplies, the sound of rap music getting louder while we near the far corner of the store.
"What's he talking about?" Rose asks over her shoulder. "When did you pose for a painting?"
"I didn't."
She stops abruptly and flicks the beads that are hanging down from the top of the open doorway. "You're kidding me, right?" she mocks, rolling her eyes at me.
"Rose! Can you at least try to be nice? Remember, this was your idea," I hiss at her. I knock on the door frame loudly. The music stops abruptly and a few moments later, James is pulling back the beads, sweat dripping from his brow, paint splattered all over his black tank top. "Ladies, I was hoping I would see you today," he says, his eyes never leaving mine.
"You're working. We can come back, later," I say, mindful of the way Edward works and how I know he would hate to be interrupted.
"No, no. Please. Come on in." He holds the beads to the side and I take a tentative step into the room. I'm overcome by the images that reflect back to me in the mass of mirrors he has lining the room. It's hard to focus, especially with the swinging bulb that is hanging down in the center of the room directly over the painting he's clearly been working on.
I shift nervously, painfully aware that he's not taken his eyes off me. "Wow. This is quite a room," Rose says dryly, sauntering to the canvass.
"Thanks," he says, flickering his eyes to her and then focusing back on me. He takes a step towards me and I shift back slightly. "I'm glad you're here. I've been working and…"
"What the fuck is this?" Rose's voice fills the room, silencing James instantly. "This is some serious fucked up shit, James," she seethes, whipping her head around and glaring at him.
James finally breaks his stare from me and focuses on Rose. "It's called art, Rose, and it sells," he practically growls.
"Not in our auction it doesn't," she barks definitively.
"Maybe you should let Bella decide that," he says, cocking his head to the side at her in defiance.
What the hell is she going on about? I brush past James and cross the room to join Rose at the painting. As I make my way to it, I can see that it's a dark and unsettling piece, my eyes falling to the body of a naked woman bound by the wrists and the feet, arching off a small wooden table. What. The. Fuck? There are arms reaching up from the darkened ground below the table, and stretching to her from the trees around her. I take an audible gasp in when I see her face.
It's mine. There's no mistaking it. He's captured it perfectly. It's as if I'm looking at a reflection of myself in the mirror. I don't know if I'm going to throw up or pass out. "What the hell is this? You cannot sell this, James. I didn't even pose for this!" I yell.
"Who says it's you?" he asks calmly, joining us at the painting, a disturbing smile playing on his face.
"It's obviously me! When did you paint this?" I demand, my anger rising as I try to comprehend what he's done and why he's done it.
"I started it yesterday. It's not totally finished yet," he says.
"Oh, I think it's finished, James," Rose snarls.
"Its art…relax. I can see maybe where you'd see some resemblance, but…"
"Some resemblance?" I ask, my voice several octaves above normal.
"I thought you said you did portraits?" Rose asks.
"I do," he says, shrugging his shoulders.
"And this is your idea of a portrait?" Rose presses.
"One of them, yes. Don't put a label on art. What one person sees as beautiful, another sees as offensive. That's what makes it provocative."
"I'm all for provocative. But, I've got to say that I'm not ok with my face being part of it for half of Vancouver to see at a charity auction," I say, the words pouring quickly out of my mouth. I cannot believe he's done something like this.
"Maybe at a porn auction," Rose says sarcastically.
"So, it's not the painting you object to, it's the audience that will see it?" he asks.
"We're raising money for charity. This isn't exactly what people are expecting to see," I state.
"And what are they expecting, hmm? Some lame ass trees with swirling colour in the background. Is that what Cullen is painting?" he asks sarcastically.
"Edward doesn't have anything to do with this. This isn't appropriate. Not for this type of event," I bark.
"This is how I paint. I can't change that."
"We can't have something like this in the auction. I hope you can understand that. I mean, you're obviously talented, couldn't you do something a little less…kinky?" Rose asks.
"I don't think this is kinky. It's art. It's all in how you perceive it."
"Yeah? Well, I perceive it as fucked up," Rose says, glaring at him.
"You're certainly entitled to your opinion. I just don't happen to share it," he says, staring intently at the painting.
"Well, the elite of Vancouver who will be at this auction probably do share it. I can't put this in the auction," Rose says.
"Forgive me, but I know the elite of Vancouver, Rose, probably better than you do. You'd be surprised at some of the fucked up shit they're into. This is tame in comparison," James says, narrowing his eyes at her.
Rose's eyes grow wide and I recognize that look. Oh God. Don't ever challenge Rose. Colossal mistake. "What's that supposed to mean?" she challenges.
"It means, don't come off like you know everything. People aren't always what they seem. If you come to my showing, you'll see what I mean," he says.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up and I feel the overwhelming need to get out of here. "When's your showing?" Rose asks sternly.
"After your auction is long over and forgotten," he taunts.
"Oh, I get it. You're using the auction as a way to get the word out about your collection," Rose says, shaking her head at him.
"Isn't that why Cullen's doing it?" he fires back at her.
"No. Edward's collection doesn't have anything to with his piece for the auction," I say defensively.
"Sounds like you've seen it," James hisses.
Rose whips her head to me and raises an eyebrow. "No. I haven't seen it. He just told me," I say.
"And you believe him?" James laughs darkly at me. "You're not as smart as I thought if you trust anything that comes out of Cullen's mouth."
"And you know him so well?" I ask sharply.
James issues me a devilish smile, knowing he's hit a nerve. "I know more about him than you do," he says darkly.
"I find that hard to believe," I say, the adrenaline pumping through me. I'm very aware that we are on the edge of something that could turn extremely nasty pretty fast. Rose puts her hand on my arm and squeezes reassuringly.
"Look, unless you can paint something other than this," Rose waves her hand at the canvass dismissively. "We're not going to be able to put anything of yours in the auction," she says firmly.
"So that's it? You're just going to shut me out of this?" he asks.
"You know what kind of event this is. The last time I checked, charity doesn't exactly go along with tied up naked women," Rose states.
He clenches his fists and narrows his eyes at Rose. "I'm sorry you feel that way. Cullen may paint for the pair of you, but I paint for me. Nobody else. And I will not apologize for it. Do you have any idea how much one of my paintings could go for?" he asks.
Rose glances at me questioningly. "Do you? Have any of your paintings ever actually sold?" Rose asks.
Oh fuck! Damn Rose and her inability to keep her mouth shut. The words, 'if looks could kill', briefly pass through my mind as they stand in lock down mode, neither one of them wanting to relent.
"Well, seems you have an audience today, James." I turn to see Jane in an expensive looking bright red suit, stalking her way towards us.
James takes a step away from the painting and tears his eyes away from us. "Jane, these are the ladies running the auction. You remember. Rose and…"
"Bella. Yes, I know. I remember. You seem to be everywhere these days," she says, arching an eyebrow to me. "First in the coffee shop, and now…here."
"We came to see James' work for the auction, but unfortunately, it's not exactly…"
"Your cup of tea?" Jane asks, whipping her head in Rose's direction.
"It's not appropriate for this type of event," Rose says.
"I see. And what would you say is appropriate? What limits are you prepared to put on creativity?" Jane asks, moving directly in front of Rose.
"We're not putting limits on it. He can paint half of Vancouver naked for all I care, it's just not going in our auction," Rose says. Jane's body stiffens and she issues Rose the death stare. We need to get out of here. Right now.
"You do realize that there is growing interest in his work, don't you?" Jane asks.
"I'm sure there is," Rose answers, not backing down.
"And that could mean good business for your auction. I mean, the goal is to raise as much money as you possibly can, isn't it?" Jane asks, her icy exterior thawing somewhat.
"Not with something like this. I'm sorry, but unless there's something else you can paint, James, I'm afraid we're going to have to go ahead without your donation," Rose says, taking a step back from Jane.
Jane turns her attention to me, her eyes dark and threatening. "Wow. I'm surprised. I would have thought, given how…close you and Edward are, that you'd be all over this particular type of genre," Jane says, turning her attention to the painting in appreciation.
"What does that mean?" I ask, even though I'm not entirely sure I want to know the answer.
She snickers and smirks at me knowingly. "Oh please. You must know that Edward likes this kind of stuff. Bondage…nudity…" I take a breath in, trying to hold it together, determined not to let her see that she's got to me. "Oh, has he not shared that little piece of information about his lifestyle with you yet?" she asks. "Maybe he's just waiting…for the right time. You're not exactly his usual type." She cocks her head to me and narrows her eyes.
I take a step towards Jane, emotion raging. What the fuck is she talking about? "Ok. I think we're done here," Rose snaps, stepping between Jane and me "James, you're really quite talented, but this isn't going to work for our auction." She nudges me towards the door while Jane laughs darkly.
"Yes. Run along, now. Wouldn't want to take up any more of your precious time," Jane sneers. "We can do just fine without your pathetic little auction."
"Just keep walking, Bella," Rose whispers as she coaxes me through the beads and into the store while I fight the urge to turn back and confront her.
"What the fuck was that all about, Rose?" I yell as we make our way through the store, pushing open the door with force into the afternoon Vancouver rain. "What the fuck was that?" I stop at her car, unable to fathom what I've just seen, what I've just heard, what she's just revealed to me about Edward.
"It was nothing, Bella. She's clearly a psycho art dealer from hell," Rose says, pressing the button on the remote to open the car.
"That wasn't nothing. Did you hear her in there? What the fuck was she talking about? Edward and his lifestyle? What the fuck?"
"Bella, don't read anything into what she said. She's just pissed off because she's not going to get any publicity for James out of the auction," she states.
"Why would she say something like that?" I ask, the rain starting to soak us both.
"Because she's crazy. She's bat-shit crazy. Get in the car. I'm freezing," she demands.
I crank the door open and sit down, staring blankly at the store. Rose puts the key in the ignition and starts the car. "Bella, don't go there, hun. Please don't believe a word she said. Talk to him, ok? I'm sure there's a history there and an explanation for why she's a nut case," she says, turning on the windshield wipers and pulling out of the parking lot.
"A history?"
"Obviously there's a history. I mean, I know she represents him, but clearly there's more to it," she says firmly.
I try to tune Rose out as she natters on while we drive back to the office. I'm rattled, to say the least, my heart still racing in my chest. This whole thing is weird; James' studio, the painting, the mirrors, Jane and her malicious attitude. Where did that even come from? I mean, what did I do to deserve being treated like that?
As we pull into the parking garage at the office and Rose turns off the car, a frightening though occurs to me. Suddenly, I don't think that street game the other night was random. And I think it's possible that I might know what kind of car she drives.
Chapter End Notes:
Hmmm…whatcha thinking?
Twitter: CarLemon