Chapter 34

"Why does this feel like it's not out of concern for your mother, Son?"

My father stares at me through narrowed eyes, and it's taking everything I have not to shove my fist in his face. I curl my right hand up, feeling the skin stretching across my knuckles, but some semblance of sanity stops me from going any further.

I openly mouth to reply, but my voice is drowned out by a loudspeaker announcement, the feedback screeching through the air and making me wince.

"Edward." Bella says my name with a low voice. I don't know if it's her attempt to calm things or a simple plea for help, but either way her words barely make it through the red mist surrounding me.

He fucking touched her.

I saw it from across the room; the way his hand curled around the top of her arm, his fingers digging into her flesh. I saw it and it sickened me to the core because she's not his to touch.

But she was, a little voice in my head reminds me. She was his first, and he did a whole lot more than touching.

"Keep the fuck away from her," I say again. This time I emphasize my words by taking a step closer, squaring up to a man who I used to respect. "If you touch her again I'll fucking slay you, I swear to God."

"Edward." Bella's voice is urgent. "Not here, people are looking."

"Fuck the people." The rage inside me swirls and grows, squeezing my heart, choking my breath, making me want to punch the hell out of everything. "He has no right to touch you."

"What the hell's going on here?" My dad reaches out to touch my shoulder. "Are you fucking with my leftovers?"

I hear a gasp beside me. From the corner of my eye I see Bella step back, wounded, and all I can think about is defending my girl.

"Leave her out of this," I tell him. "In fact leave us both out of this, I don't want you anywhere near us,"

He glares at me, his jaw twitching, and I can't see an ounce of fatherly concern in his expression. The anger I feel is reflected back at me tenfold, and for the first time I start to worry for Bella's safety.

"Did you seduce my son to pay me back?" Dad turns to look at her, rage pouring from him. "Did you fuck with my son just to fuck with me? You little..."

My fist connects with his jaw before I even realize what I'm doing, and he falls back, hands grasping at empty air. He crashes to the floor, and a collective gasp rises from the ballroom, reminding me that we aren't alone.

In fact we're far from alone. We're being watched by a crowd of people; from my firm and dad's, old friends and acquaintances.

Not to mention my mother.

She comes running over, her high heels clicking against the marble floor, and before she even reaches us I can see the tears pouring down her face. She drops to her knees besides my dad, who's managed to sit up and is rubbing his jaw, and as soon as she's checked him out she turns to glare at me.

"You want to tell me what the hell's going on?"

I shake my head, turning to see Bella shivering beside me. She has her hand clamped over her mouth and her eyes are wide, reminding me of the magnitude of what I've done.

Instead of answering my Mom, I pull Bella close, murmuring in her ear as I stroke her soft hair. She leans into me, sobbing, making me feel like a prize shit, and all I want to do is get her away from here.

"If you want to know what's going on, ask your husband," I say coldly. "I'm done here."

Wrapping my arm around her waist, I lead Bella out of the ballroom and into the hotel lobby, ready to do anything I can to stop her tears.

An hour later we're perched on the end of the King bed, my arms wrapped around her body as she continues to cry. I've managed to get some sugar inside her-courtesy of a can of coke from the mini-bar-but the shivers that wrack her body still haven't subsided.

"I'm sorry, baby," I whisper into her hair. "I'm an asshole."

"It's not your fault," she sobs. "It's mine. If it wasn't for me you wouldn't hate your father right now."

I consider arguing with her, telling her that I hated him long before the two of us got together, but decide that's a conversation for another night. "Well it's certainly not your fault," I tell her. "You've done absolutely nothing wrong."

I should have just walked away, I should have told my parents about her sooner. I should have done a lot of things, and the regret at my inaction lays heavy on my shoulders.

"I knew this was a bad idea." She wipes her eyes with my handkerchief. "I should have been stronger, I should have said no." She looks up at me, eyes shining. "I shouldn't have fallen in love with you."

Her words thrill my aching heart. The knowledge that in the middle of this shit storm my girl can still say those words both warms and strengthens me. At the end of the day everything can go to hell in a hand basket if I have her by my side.

I drop my lips to hers, kissing her softly, tasting the salty tears on her mouth. "I love you so much," I tell her. "I don't regret a goddamned thing."

The truthfulness of my words strikes me, loosening the tight band across my chest. For the first time in my life I have somebody I'd do anything for, and the knowledge makes me want to shout with joy.

"What about your job?" she whispers. "Everybody was watching."

"I'll throw myself on their mercy," I say. "And I'll make sure they know it had absolutely nothing to do with you. I won't let you pay for my actions"

I pull us both back until we're lying on the bed. She's curled up beside me, her head resting on my chest, and I stroke her softly, feeling her breathing even out as exhaustion overtakes her and she falls asleep. Wide awake, I stare up at the ceiling, images of the night flashing through my mind even though I try to ignore them.

I should feel sorry for punching my dad, I know that, and maybe there's a small part of me that regrets my actions. But the bigger part-the caveman within-is still shaking with anger at the thought of him touching her. The memory of her face, of the unease in her expression, is enough to light the touchpaper of my fury again. The only thing that's stopping me from seeking him out and warning him off once more is the fact that she's sleeping so soundly beside me.

Half an hour later, my eyelids are getting heavy, each blink lasting a second or two. I'm entering that no-man's land between awareness and slumber when the shrill ring of my phone shocks me into sitting up.

Mom's name lights up the screen.

"Hello?" I answer rapidly, my heart banging against my chest.

"Edward, we need to talk."