Posted 2021-12-16; Beta'd by Eeyorefan12

With his elbows on the desk, Edward rubbed his chin on his joined hands and eyed the computer screen. He'd been staring at it for the last five minutes, and like the numbers, his inadequate solutions to the problem they presented remained unchanged.

Aro was skimming the Cullens' already narrow profit margins on their shared ventures down to nearly nothing.

Edward snorted, recalling how his father had presented this information at their latest briefing. Carlisle had used the legal term "defalcation", making Rosie—who'd walked in late—ask, "Sorry, did you just say that Aro was shitting us?"

It had been the lightest moment of the meeting, that was for sure.

"Defalcation. Damn stealing is what it is," he muttered to himself.

The thefts hadn't affected their operations yet, but they would, and the effects would become exponential over time. They also ran the risk of their other foreign partners hearing about it, causing them to question the Cullens' ability to control their own operations.

Edward closed the laptop. This wasn't a numbers problem. This was a people problem. A hubris problem. Aro dispensed with money like it was water. His attitude was that it was plentiful and due to him. To suggest otherwise was to invite the end of a conversation—and not peacefully.

Given that things were already shaky between the Cullens and the Morandis, neither Carlisle nor Edward could have a frank discussion with Aro about it. With their recent attempts to limit Aro's involvement in their business, the relationship was already strained almost to the breaking point.

Not that it was breaking, because that would certainly be the better outcome.

Edward scrubbed his hands over his face, again regretting the deal his father had made with the Morandis. It hadn't exactly been under duress, but it had been made out of perceived necessity. When the Cullens' illegal operations had unwittingly strayed into Aro's territory, they hadn't had much choice but to invite the association or have it forced upon them.

He'd disagreed with his father at the time—vociferously. Still, Carlisle had argued that it was always better to act as if one was making a choice. The pretense gave them some ground in setting terms. Reluctantly, Edward had acquiesced—believing he wasn't in a position to do otherwise. It was his father's organization, after all, and Edward had only recently come on board when the agreements were being made.

Of course, witnessing the inner workings of Aro's operation had left no doubt about the incompatibility of the two organizations. After seeing Edward's carefully gathered evidence, Carlisle had visibly paled, nodded, and then agreed that they needed to part ways with Aro as quickly as possible. Having expected an argument, Edward had been surprised—though humbled―at his father's faith in his judgment. Cutting ties would mean significant losses, financially and geographically.

"Do no harm," he muttered to himself. It was what his father had always said.

Wasn't that the root of it? Of everything they did?

He snorted, thinking of the metaphor. If they were talking about roots, Aro was bloody root rot. Or a damn tentacled monster. Every overture they'd made to dissolve the arrangement had been summarily rejected.

Edward groaned into his hands. It was late, and he was tired.

The Cullens' depleting bank accounts weren't their only problem. Since they still had to rely on Aro for several of their shipping and pick-up points, that meant they were dependent on Aro's security, too. They'd lost two shipments this way in the last three months—heavy blows for their charitable clients and even weightier ones to their own finances.

At least the Morandis' security was better when it came to product sold for profit. Even so, that didn't make much of a difference when most of the cash was slipped into Aro's pockets.

Then there was Aro and his damned insecurity and pride.

Edward's father had been approached by an American representative of the Camorra clan—one of the Morandis' very powerful and neighboring competitors. Though Carlisle had politely declined the offer to engage in business, citing a pre-existing relationship with another Italian syndicate, word had gotten back to Aro. Carlisle, Rosie, and Edward had all received couriered packages on the same day, each containing a politely worded note from Aro inquiring about the addressee's health and expressing gratitude for the recipient's loyalty. With the notes had arrived a stack of surveillance photos of Esme, Emmett, and Bella engaged in their daily activities. Aro's threat could not have been clearer—and neither was the demonstration of his seemingly unlimited reach.

It had galled Edward to show Bella the pictures, but he'd had to when she'd balked at having a security detail. Security threat or no, he knew she hated being escorted everywhere she went—especially to work.

Edward didn't like the heightened surveillance and security for Bella either, but it was the compromise the two of them had reached: for now, Bella continued with her job while Edward pretended he didn't feel his gut clench every time she left the house.

A smart rap at the office door made him look up, frowning. Bella had to be in bed by now, and Dale wouldn't bother him so late unless it was an emergency. "Yes?"

"Special forces," Bella's voice rang out. "Here to do an extraction."

Edward smiled. "Really? You guys don't usually announce yourselves."

The door opened and she peeked around it, gesturing to herself, "I am a force to be reckoned with, and I think I'm special to you. Mind you, it's kind of hard to tell sometimes, what with me having to extend written invitations for you to come to bed."

"Bed, like . . .?"

She made a good show of rolling her eyes, but he was amused to see her blush as well. "Get your head out of your pants and check your phone."

He did, noting three missed messages from her: the first, asking if he was coming to bed, was from an hour ago. As she stepped further into the room, he saw that yes, she was definitely in her night clothes.

"Sorry," he said with a sigh, standing up after locking his laptop in the desk drawer. "I got . . . caught up in—"

"Saving the world. I know." She leaned against the door frame, grinning, folded arms resting on the swell of her stomach.

He moved to join her, slipping his arms around her and kissing her. She laid her cheek against his chest and returned the embrace.

"So, what did special forces need or want from me?" he asked.

"I just missed you," she said. "And it's late."

He sighed again. It was. Deciding there wasn't much more to be done for the night, he followed her up to bed.

When he crawled under the covers with her, it was purely with the intention to sleep. Despite being in the latter part of her pregnancy, she was sleeping well, but not for long periods, and he didn't want to interfere with that.

Bella, however, had other ideas.

"Turn over," she murmured, rolling onto her side so that her belly pressed against him. She smoothed her hands over his shoulders and then his back, massaging away some of the tension there.

"That feels nice," Edward said. It was also very . . . stimulating.

Let. Her. Sleep.

"Good," Bella said, sliding a hand down to his hip and then reaching around to another part of him that liked being massaged.

"It's late," he said, closing his eyes but doing nothing else to either dissuade or encourage her.

She stopped, pushing herself up and leaning over to look at his face. "Sorry, I thought I was in bed with my husband. Who're you?"

Edward snorted out a laugh and rolled over to face her, "I'm at your service, Ma'am."

"There's my marine." She chuckled as he kissed her, but she didn't laugh for long, not when he used his hands to begin his own exploration.

She was seven months pregnant, and he found her ever-changing shape to be more than alluring. He kissed the top of her stomach, her lips, then her breasts, sitting up and lifting her onto him so that she could control the rhythm of their love-making. It was in the midst of this that Edward felt the trickle of moisture on his thigh. He froze.

"What?" Bella asked when he suddenly grasped her hips with both hands to still her movements.

He said nothing, shaking his head and waiting. The continued flow of liquid, unmistakable now, made his stomach feel like a ball of ice.

Without comment, he gently pulled out of her and reached over to turn on the bedside lamp.

"You're bleeding." He knew he must have said it because he felt the words leave his mouth but the only sound he registered was his heart pounding in his ears. The bright red blood was still leaving Bella's body.

"Oh," Bella said, looking down and then away quickly, one hand over her mouth.

Edward eased her onto her left side and grabbed his clothes.

Bella was already on the phone with her obstetrician's answering service.

Edward called Carlisle.

They hung up at almost the same time. "They said to go to the hospital," Bella said. "They're notifying whoever's on call."

Edward nodded, already dialing.

Bella frowned. "Who're you calling?"

"An ambulance."

Bella opened her mouth as if to object but closed it again, exhaling and nodding instead, her expression troubled.

Edward finished the call and helped Bella get ready, throwing things into a small bag at the foot of the bed, taking her hand in his and meeting her worried gaze with the calmest one he could muster. "We'll figure this out, okay? It's going to be fine."

He hoped if he said it firmly enough, he could force it to be true.

By the time the obstetrician finished with all her diagnostics, it was early in the morning. The doctor looked a little grim as she sat down by Bella's bed. "So, the baby's doing fine, but you have what's called a partial placenta previa."

Shit. No. No. No.

Edward looked to Bella. The term didn't seem to cause her any alarm, and he made sure his didn't register in his face.

The doctor explained what the practical implications would be for Bella, the most notable of which would be a C-section when the time came.

"For sure? Or could that change?" Bella asked. She'd wanted a natural delivery and she'd been trying to sway Edward toward a home birth with midwives. He knew that this would rule out that option, and he felt a stab of guilt arrive with his relief.

"It's unlikely," the doctor said. "I'm sorry. I know that's a disappointment."

Bella looked like she was trying not to show just how much of a disappointment that was, blinking heavily and nodding. Edward pulled a tissue from the box on the table beside them and pressed it into her hand.

After the doctor finished answering what were mostly Bella's questions, she left. Bella would have to stay at the hospital for observation until the bleeding was under control which meant at least for a day, if not longer.

After several hours, Bella finally convinced Edward to go home and get some sleep, arguing that she'd sleep better knowing he was getting some rest too. As soon as Raoul and his less visible colleague arrived, Edward gave them strict instructions, and finally, after checking once more on Bella, caught a cab home to collapse into bed.

When he called to check on her a few hours later, Bella was still asleep. He left a message at the nurse's station for her that he would be there soon. Then he sat in his study, debating opening his laptop. His father had already told him to take the day off and for once, he'd get no argument from his son. Carlisle and Jasper could take care of any emergencies that arose. Even so, it wasn't like the tasks wouldn't accumulate. Edward's attention was divided, his thoughts frazzled. Leaving his laptop closed, he rested his head on his hands, staring at the picture that he'd hung on the wall to his left. It was a casual shot the photographer had taken at their wedding, and it was one that justified all the fuss Alice had made in hiring the man. It captured Bella's trusting expression perfectly as she looked up at Edward, her hand resting on his chest.

He didn't often look at this particular picture, saving it instead for moments when he needed the comfort that it offered. And he really needed it today.

His phone rang: it was his father.

"Hey, Dad. Bella's stable."

"I'm glad to hear it, Son. So, what's the plan?"

Edward had texted the basic details the night before, but now he gave him the full story.

Carlisle exhaled. "I'm sorry. That has to be disappointing, especially for Bella."

Edward hummed in reply. His father had been surprisingly approving of Bella's plan to deliver at home. They didn't need to get into that now though.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but—"

Edward groaned. "Let me guess. Our Italian friends?"

There was a pause. "Yes." If he was calling about this, it was because he had no other choice. "They've suggested we run the Mumbai factory together."

Hell. No. It was their most profitable enterprise, and the one through which they ran a major portion of their legitimate production business. If Aro was presuming to involve himself so far in this operation, he was overreaching by a mile.

"We'll need to offer him something to make our refusal more palatable, but we need to set some hard parameters in response to this. I suspect there will be some fallout." Carlisle spoke evenly, like he wasn't describing what could be the beginning of a potentially armed conflict. "I'm afraid we might need to utilize your expertise and experience in . . . other areas, Son."

Edward closed his eyes, immediately grateful that he'd left two men with Bella. He'd be bringing her home as soon as the doctor cleared her. Or—screw it, he'd hire one to follow Bella around if need be. Not that she'd be moving much, he realized afresh. She wouldn't be able to return to work. It would be yet another disappointment for her.

Taking a deep breath, he coaxed himself back into his logical thinking.

Already exhausted and worried about Bella and the baby, he now had very fresh and significant worries about the Morandis to contend with. At least they'd be closer to ending their relationship with Aro. He needed to start on a new plan right away—one where his knowledge of Aro's internal operations would be invaluable. It would be messy, but the sooner they were done with the man and his business, the better.

Killing people never solves anything, he'd told Bella all those weeks ago.

But damn if it wasn't sometimes tempting to consider.

Author's postscript: Surprise! Real life was kinder than expected this past week, and I hope it is for the rest of you as well. See you in about a week.

Erin

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.