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Edward sat behind his desk gnawing on his thumb. His gaze shifted to the window, going to the group of trees where he and Bella had ridden. Every swipe of his tongue across his bottom lip delivered the sweet lingering taste of his prisoner/guest, he wasn't sure what she was becoming but the term prisoner no longer fit Isabella.

Dragging his dark gaze away from the forest, he stared at the chair where she normally sat during their dinner. It had taken all of his strength to carry her to her room last night. He'd paused before his bed, nearly placing her between his sheets. As the familiar prickle of sensation danced across his skin when Bella came to mind, he willed his attention to return to the present. Tracing the floral pattern on the chair, Edward envisioned her sitting there.

He'd been doing that a lot lately—simply looking at that chair. A ripple of sensation gripped his spine and suddenly he couldn't envision her not being present during mealtimes. If he were being honest, he was starting to see her everywhere.

The woman just fit. She fit his house, she fit his family, and most importantly she fit him. The guilt he expected to accompany the thought never came, and before he knew it he was reaching for the photo of Irene on the corner of his desk.

Edward could sit here and lie. He could pretend he didn't understand why Isabella refused to let him visit her last night. He did, however, understand. His unwavering attachment to a damn picture. Okay—maybe not exactly the photo but the implications behind it.

She'd surprised him last night. Walking into his bathroom to find that brazen woman with her sinful gaze, has nearly buckled his knees. After getting a taste of her, how the fuck was he supposed to let her go?

He couldn't keep her, could he? As the thought tickled his mind, Edward's attention swung to the photo on his desk. The idea was more than a little intriguing.

The Mayor or Charlie would be calling any day confirming their payment for his prisoner. Edward remembered asking her the one thing she would want if given the opportunity. Freedom had been her answer. Freedom from the manipulation of men.

He could offer her that.

Her freedom.

How?

He could marry her, officially killing Charlie and the Mayor's plans for her. After which, she could choose to do whatever she wanted.

Was he really contemplating marrying Isabella? His chest drew tight, and his focus returned to his wife's photo.

His fingertips tingled against the golden frame as he picked up the picture, and his brow flickered as he stared at Irene's bright smile. He was so enthralled with the picture, that Edward didn't at first notice the tapping sound. As the noise grew louder his gaze darted in the direction of the fireplace.

Edward froze to his leather chair. He would've looked at the bottle of Jack, which was forever present, to see if he was drunk because—holy shit, he had to be intoxicated. His leaden hands swiped at his eyes as he tried to determine if he was seeing shit.

Obviously, he was hallucinating. There was no way his dead wife was standing near his fireplace. Chills crawled over his skin and goosebumps rose from his flesh, making the hair on his arms stand on end. Yet as stunned as he was, Edward was transfixed as if an invisible force held him in place.

She smiled softly back at him, barely a whisper of smoke, yet very much present. "It's okay, you know. You can put the picture away, Edward, it's time. You shouldn't cling so hard to memories when you have your whole life before you."

"I-I'm sorry, Irene. I, holy fuck, how are you here?" Edward gulped in a breath feeling a bit faint. He'd heard of ghostly encounters but he'd never thought to be a part of one.

"I have always been here, Edward. This was my home, and I have a wonderful, gorgeous daughter upstairs. She is simply amazing. I spend most of my time with her."

Edward nodded his understanding and the wet sting of tears filled his eyes. Of all the things he regretted, Irene losing the opportunity to be a mother to their daughter was the one that hit him the hardest. "I wish she had gotten the chance to know you. She is very beautiful."

"There are many things I wish for. However, I will never leave her side. That's one thing I can give her now. But, I am disappointed in you, Edward. For the first time ever—you've left me disheartened. How could you use my death during her birth as a reason to ignore that sweet girl?"

"You know I loved you, right? I-I … she reminded me of you so much. I just couldn't …"

"I know," she whispered, floating around the room. Sad eyes connected with Edward's. "We had our time together. The time that was meant for us. You were a great friend and husband to me. I couldn't have hoped for a better match. We were lucky considering our circumstances."

"Yes," he nodded, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes. Edward felt the glass in the frame crack beneath his fingers, and his attention was jolted back to the picture.

"It's time to let go. You loved me and I loved you. We had a wonderful connection. But, Edward—there is the possibility of someone new. and she is a wonderful, beautiful woman. She's good for you, and challenges you in a way I never could. She is everything I could ask for, for our daughter. Don't let a handful of memories and my death steal your future."

"They were good memories. We were happy, and we loved each other. Thank you for being my rock, my friend, and my husband. You are free, Edward. You are free to find love again and have a family. You need to share that love with our daughter. Live the life I can't, and Edward …"

"Yeah," he asked, his voice gruff with unspent emotion.

"Cherish our little girl. If you don't, I might be tempted to come back to kick your ass," she stated simply.

"I do have a question before you go, Irene. Did you let Isabella out of that room? Is that you I hear in these halls?" It was a query that had bugged him for weeks. Now, it was the only thing that made any type of sense.

"Among other things," she whispered with a wink. "You're welcome, by the way. Goodbye, Edward."

"Goodbye, Irene," Edward whispered back.

Irene disappeared in a wisp of smoke. For a long time, Edward sat there silently, staring at the spot where she stood. When the fog began to clear, Edward's navy gaze returned to the picture. This time a fleeting smile pulled at his lips as he fondly studied his wife's photograph.

Edward was surprised when the weight resting on his chest lifted. When he pulled the drawer open and set the picture inside, he felt the release of all the guilt and remorse that had flooded him since Irene's death; he felt lighter in spirit than he had in years. Suddenly, he glanced around the room as if he'd awoken from a deep sleep, aimlessly gazing around the study until his gaze settled on the chair.

~*~

Bella cocked her head at an angle listening intently. There it was again. That same wailing as if a cat were in heat. Opening her bedroom door, she glanced down the hallway to find it empty.

Pushing her damp hair behind her ear, she set out to find the source of the cries. The further down the hall she went the louder the sorrowful sound grew.

The last time she'd heard this sound, it had led her to Edward's bedroom where she'd found him masturbating. The memory made her smile. Things had changed so much between them since then.

They were no longer at war with one another, seeming to settle into a mutual attraction and respect. After the best orgasm of her life, Bella could hardly think of anything beyond Edward Cullen.

All through her study plans with Lily, Bella had to stop her mind from wandering. Half a dozen times last night, she had resisted the urge to touch herself, wanting to rediscover those incredible sensations Edward Cullen had introduced her to. Just thinking of his mouth claiming hers left her breathless, touching her body, inside of her... Right now, however, she needed to find out what was making that horrible sound.

When she jogged down the stairs and came face to face with the door to Edward's study, she was confused. When the sound penetrated the door, Bella grew worried thinking something was wrong with Edward.

Even so, her fingers curled around the cold brass and turned the knob. She opened the door slowly when she heard Edward talking, assuming he was on a business call.

"I wish she had gotten a chance to know you."

Silence followed the statement and a quick peek in the crack of the door she made caused Bella to gasp. Edward was staring across the room, his normal sharpness no longer present.

"You know I loved you, right? She just reminded me of you so much … I just couldn't …" Bella stilled at the pain in Edward's voice. There was no way this was a professional call, he sounded as if he were in pain, his throat raw.

He was speaking to his dead wife. Her gaze dropped to the picture he held, and Bella's chest drew tight, tears filling her eyes as emotion gripped her. Somewhere along the way, she'd developed tender feelings for the King of the Midwest.

No matter what she was feeling, she wouldn't play second fiddle to a dead woman. As this thought sang through her mind, she had to wonder if Edward would ever let Irene go.

If not, there was no way she could continue getting close to him. A wave of sadness filled her and she was about to pull the door closed when his next statement left her rooted to the carpeted floor beneath her feet.

"Goodbye, Irene." Through the cracked door, she watched him slip the picture into a drawer, and Bella couldn't withhold the gasp of shock.

Unbidden a single tear rolled down her cheek, and the tickle of the drop had her pushing it away. Slowly, Bella pulled the door closed, wanting to give him privacy to say goodbye. The resonating click of the door latching caused Bella's eyes to fall closed, cursing beneath her breath.

When the structure wasn't immediately ripped open with an angry Edward staring back at her, she sighed as she hurried away from the door. She was nearly at the end of the hallway, thinking she'd escaped when fingers locked around her bicep and turned her on her heel.

It was Edward, but he didn't look mad. Bella's chin tipped up stubbornly, preparing herself for an inevitable fight. When Edward stared down at her biting his lip, she noted the fire blazing in his eyes.

She knew that look. It was the same look he'd had when he'd found her in his tub. Before she understood what was happening, she was walking with Edward back to his study, crossing the threshold, the click of the door closing behind her vibrated in her ears.

Edward pulled Bella back against his broad chest, his mouth dipping low next to her ear. "Notice anything different?"

He should be pissed. His little intrusive baggage, always right in the middle of everything going on in this house. He wasn't angry, however. The moment he'd realized Bella was listening at his door, he felt compelled to go after her when she'd tried to get away without being detected.

He chuckled next to her ear when Bella's form stiffened against him, yet she didn't answer. "Of course you do. You are always right in the middle."

"Edward," Bella started, needing to explain. She was positive; any mixture of responses would turn into a screaming match. When his arm wound around her waist, and he drew her tighter into his embrace, she gulped. "I didn't mean to intrude. I heard noises and I followed them here."

"Shhh," he whispered, pressing his hips forward into hers. Edward groaned as his cock pushed against the cushion of her ass. "You are right where you should be."

Bella felt Edward's arm flex against her belly, and heat gathered between her legs at the hardness firmly resting against her ass. Realizing he wasn't angry, she pushed his arm, wanting to turn and face him.

Even if he was willing to let his wife go, things hadn't changed. She was still technically his captive and awaiting money for her return. When the fucking Mayor came with the dough, she would leave here.

Just the thought scared the shit out of her. Honestly, she had never been so scared. She was so dangerously close to—to falling for this man. Bella's voice trembled as she spoke. "How can you say that? Any day I will be leaving."

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