Hello everyone,

I swear we are getting somewhere lol. Slow but sure. I do believe in making my characters work for their happy over after, and there will definitely be one.

Thanks for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following.

Also, thanks to CoppertopJ for beating for me. She is awesome.

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Edward strolled lazily through the casino. Bright lights of every color glittered all around, tempting gamblers to stick their last pennies into slot machines. Music played off the loudspeaker, yet Edward didn't comprehend a single word, completely lost in thought to the happenings around him.

Laurent and James walked at his side with purposeful strides, steel in their hard eyes as they headed to speak to the facility manager. Nothing was amiss, just a little follow-up on the business they happened to do here.

Feeling the need for a drink, Edward tipped his head in the direction of the bar, indicating his lackeys follow. Stepping up to the dimly lit counter, Edward motioned to the bottle of jack on the back wall. "Jack … fill the glass."

"Right away," the bartender nodded with wide eyes. He glanced at the two silent men next to the well-known King. "Will you two need anything or …"

Laurent's black eyes pinned the bartender with a stern look, and he finally gave a nod. "Sure. Same as the boss."

Edward turned to overlook the happenings around him. Leaning back against the bar, he propped his elbow on the smooth glass as his unseeing gaze roamed the establishment. Honestly, he had no real purpose for being here at all.

The truth be known, Edward found he just needed to fucking escape. Escape from everything. From his family's prying interference to his pretty little captive. His jaw clenched as her beaming smile popped into mind; even after he'd paddled her ass, she'd danced right into his study as proud as she pleased to deliver him a piece of fucking cheesecake. Which he'd pitched in the trash moments later over a simple inquisition about his dead wife.

His nostrils flared at the thought of Irene. He was certain his late wife would be disgusted by his behavior since her unexpected death. Still yet, shame and fear slid into his gut.

Edward crossed his ankles when he felt a twitch of heat zip into his balls. The purpose of leaving the house was to get the fiery piece of work out of his head. While this had been the case, she'd been ever-present in his thoughts since he'd inquired about her fucking pubic hair. Try as he might, Edward couldn't forget the look on her face or the interest that had awakened in her eyes.

Even now, his blood ran hot as images of stalking Isabella and pinning her to the wall came to mind. Edward smothered the snarl that thought inspired, suddenly feeling the need to drive his fist into something to stifle the craving that erupted throughout his being. The scent of lilacs lingered in Edward's nostrils since he'd flung the devil over his shoulder and taken her back to the house.

Whatever it was about Isabella Swan, Edward couldn't shake the minx from his mind. Relief filled him when the bartender slid the glass across the countertop. Without seeing a damn thing, Edward reached for the glass and brought it to his lips. Slugging the jack, he rolled the tension from his shoulders as the burn ripped through his body. His muscles eased slightly, and his lashes dropped a fraction as the familiar lull of alcohol beckoned him.

"Boss," Laurent called with a nod toward Adam Bryant, headed in their direction. "Has a smile on his face. Must have some good news."

"Cullen, it's good to see you," Bryant called as he came to stand before the Missouri King. Even if there was trouble underfoot, the very last person he'd ever want to inform was Edward Cullen. Lucky for him, business had been going very well. "I think you would be pleased to know we added a half a dozen gamblers to the floor. Maybe we should go somewhere to talk privately."

Edward's gaze ran over Bryant's elegantly clad form. Since starting business here, Edward noticed a change in the man. He'd gone from shabby sweaters and jeans to leisurely Italian suits. The toe of his shoes gleamed under the fluorescent lights sprinkled through the casino. Pleased with the man's natural progression, Edward shoved away from the bar.

"Lead the way," James stated, pushing away from the bartop, squaring his shoulders. His piercing stare landed on the casino manager, his lips tipping as the man visibly squirmed—nothing more satisfying than watching a weasel fidget.

Edward shrugged free from his trench as the warmth of alcohol flowed through him. Handing the thick wool over to Laurent, Edward gestured for Bryant to lead the way to his office.

For the next half an hour, Edward listened to Bryant rattle on about the measures he'd taken to bring more launderers on board. Apparently, Bryant was very handy with the books and found a way to keep the cash flow thick, and Edward was quite satisfied with his progress. Still, being precarious, Edward rubbed his chin, saying, "Words are all well and good, but I still want to see proof that what you are saying is true."

Diligently, Bryant poured over all the numbers, even showing Edward proof of the currents of cash flowing from hand to hand. There were nearly a hundred people on the floor at this moment handing cash to dealers throughout the casino.

When business wrapped up, Edward stood and shook the man's hand. As Edward exited the establishment, thoughts of Isabella plagued him anew as he climbed into the cab of his truck with Laurent falling into the driver seat. Staring blindly out the window, he twirled his fingers, indicating he was ready to return home.

Perhaps ready was a bit ambitious, but he couldn't exactly hide forever. Edward was extremely grateful when the ride home was filled with silence, yet he still had this storm brewing within, and he was starting to believe there was no hiding from it.

Even when he entered his house an hour later and headed to his room, the battle was still raging on. Needing some sort of release, he yanked his closet open and grabbed a pair of sweats and tank from the shelf, and hurriedly changed. A nice round of the punching bag would go a long way.

One way or another, Edward Cullen would forget about his prisoner and … and … what? What would happen when he finally succeeded in getting Isabella out of his head? He'd sit for endless hours in his darkened study and reminisce about his late wife? Was that really a path he wanted to revisit?

He felt as if he were walking a live wire as he headed towards the gym. The second he pulled the door open and found some fucking pop song blaring from the corner, Edward knew he wasn't alone. Searching the gym for the source of the racket, he fully expected to find Alice on the treadmill.

He couldn't have been more wrong by that assumption and stopped dead in his tracks as he spotted a blonde ponytail swinging in tempo to every stride she took. He should turn around and pursue a different avenue for release. He cursed under his breath as he walked further into the room, stalling several times as his wandering eye landed on the swing of her hips.

Isabella must've felt his presence because she punched a button, and the treadmill slowed dramatically. Her head tipped in his direction, and a look of surprise was etched on her face. Feeling the sting of annoyance, Edward's lips thinned. Determined to ignore the sassy little piece, Edward grabbed his gloves off the shelf near the punching bag.

Bella watched from her small corner as Edward proceeded to strap on his gloves. Satisfied he wasn't going to toss her out of his gym, Bella punched the buttons and resumed her run.

Edward, on the other hand, fought to ignore the invader. As he slammed fist after fist into the bag, and sweat broke out on every crevice of his body, his wandering eye returned time and again to the treadmill and the fucking dance beat thumping from the radio. Just when he was about to give up on the thought of peace, the treadmill once again slowed, and Bella climbed from the belt.

However, when she promptly turned toward him, apprehension gripped him when he felt those light blue eyes skip down his form. Growling, he landed another blow to the bag as frustration welled inside, and as his aggravation climbed, Edward went one step further, his leg swinging wide as he landed a kick to the bag. With sweat dripping down his temple and sliding down his nape, he breathed heavily as he turned away from the bag.

When Edward no longer felt the weight of her stare, he glanced in her direction to find her stretching. His body reacted without conscious thought, and vibration started low in his belly and slid to his balls. Edward was determined to ignore the way she bent forward with her ass in the air. Before he knew what was happening, he turned in her direction as she headed for the weight rack.

His pulse pounded as he visually traced her slim curves. Edward turned hungry when his stare fell on her ass when she simply stood there studying the weights. He considered what it'd be like to wrap that ponytail around his hand and yank her head back as his hand wandered those dips and valleys. His palm literally itched to cup the perky flesh under that tank she wore. As he imagined those tiny ripe buds jaunting into his hand, his fingers curled, and his nostrils flared.

Before he knew what happened, he crossed the gym and now stood directly behind her. Her lilac scent, coupled with her musk, inspired by her workout, wafted in the air. The potent aroma tickled his nose, and a coil of heat tightened in his gut as his gaze skimmed the delicate curve of her neck. Ravenously, Edward stared transfixed at the pulse-pounding vein, and the incredible need to sink his teeth into the sensitive flesh captivated him. Licking dry lips, Edward's hand lifted of its own accord, his fingers nearly brushing the skin of her bicep when she turned abruptly.

Heat slid down Bella's spine, her ass tingling briefly when she became attuned to Edward's attention. She could feel the exact path of his wandering eye, and each move was suddenly dictated by awareness. Despite her best efforts to resist her body's reaction to Edward, she found she liked the zing of sensation coursing throughout her being. Unprepared to break the spell captivating her, she took her time examining the dumbbells before her, her fingers sliding over the smooth velvet covering each one.

Bella lifted the five-pound dumbbell she settled on, intending to start some curls when she felt hot air slide down her nape. Startled by Edward's unexpected proximity, she pivoted on her heel, losing her grip on the weight. In what felt like slow motion, she watched the dumbbell tip from her fingertips and fall toward Edward's foot.

"Motherfucker," Edward cursed as the weight landed right on the top of his foot. "Holy shit … son of a …"

Bella's hand flew to her mouth as she stood there in shock. Instantly awash with guilt as the weight thudded hard against Edward's foot. Dropping to her knees, she reached for the wounded foot, only to have him jerk out of reach.

"Woman, don't fucking touch me. God damn menace … holy fuck," Edward's nostrils flared as the desire he'd been feeling earlier was replaced with uncontrollable anger. He practically snarled as he turned away and limped his way from the gym.

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