DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the intellectual property of the respective author. The original characters and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

-Chapter Fifty-

My irritated eyes stared at the clock on the bedside table and watched as the neon numbers slowly moved. It was ten minutes past midnight, and my brain refused to shut down. Thoughts upon treacherous thoughts plagued me with doubt, mainly Edward's distrust.

It was uncanny how distracted I'd become once he touched me. All my anger would fall away, and I would forget the argument. It was until after the tingling and electricity faded that I would come out of my Edward-induced trance.

I'd spent the last four hours lying in bed replaying the fight repeatedly. The low blows and hateful words didn't bother me as much as the truth did. The fact that Edward felt the need to lie to me because I was an unreliable fuck-up made me nauseous.

I tried to delude myself into thinking he didn't mean it or was just upset with me, but it was true. I was the worst thing that ever happened to Edward Cullen—if I were smart, I would end the madness and leave.

But of course, I am stupid and selfish; all I wanted was him. And I refused, beyond all sensible reason, to give him up.

"Ugh," I growled, flipping on my back in a huff and jostling the bed. I pressed my fingers to my eyes, hoping to gouge the fuckers out. It was these kinds of thoughts, self-loathing and relentless, keeping me up. I didn't know how to make them stop.

"Bella…" Edward reached out for me, his voice husky and deep.

I'd woke him up with my pouting, not my intention, but still, I had to bite my lip to stop my smile. There was something to be said about the misery-loving company.

"Baby," he said, hurrying across the bed and pulling me to him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, taking him up on the invitation, rolling into his arms, and burying my face in the comfort of his embrace.

"Sure," he said, knowing right off I was lying. The word fine was code for shit. However, the soft strokes he was making along my back with his fingers were a truth serum, and it was only a matter of time before I spilled all of my inner thoughts to him. So he waited and waited, caressed and stroked until finally, I couldn't hold back.

"I'm going to stay here tomorrow."

The stroking stopped, and there was rumbling from his chest, my ear hard-pressed against it. "What are you talking about?"

This part was going to be difficult because I was reopening a topic that was supposed to be closed. But we'd fought, made up, and started with a clean slate. Things were good. That's what having sex meant, or so he thought.

"I'm not going with you to do the bank job."

He pulled back to look at me, darkness doing nothing to mask his fucking face. The pensive expression mixed with a bushy bedhead and a pouty lip was my undoing. "But I need you there."

I rolled my eyes. "You don't need me there."

"The fuck I don't," he said, jerking me back into him, a closer and more intimate. "You're my partner in crime, kid. We do this shit together."

I grinned, overjoyed by the thought of being a single unit with Edward, but the feeling didn't last long. It was side-lined by his words of harsh truth he slapped me with six hours ago.

"But I'm the one who fucks things up, remember?" I said, my voice dipping down a decibel and showcasing my insecurity.

"I shouldn't have fucking said that."

"But it's true," I said, nudging my head into the crook of his neck and entangling our legs together. "I'm reckless and immature and—"

"You believe all that shit then, yeah?" He was angry. I could feel the tension in his muscles, squeezing and contracting as his hand gripped my waist. There wasn't much space between us. Every inch of our skin flushed. "Out of everything I've told you, that's what you believe?"

My heart was pounding, a rush of powerful emotions in my veins—anger, love, hate, lust, all of it there, multiplying and getting stronger.

"It's not like I want to believe that. Up until yesterday, I thought we were a team, but you purposely chose to leave me out of it—"

"Enough, Bella, I get it," he interrupted and untangled his limbs from mine. He kicked off the sheets and sat on the edge of the mattress. "I'm a shitty boyfriend."

"You're not," I said, sitting up in the bed and reaching over to comfort him.

"I know it's a piss-poor excuse for lying to you, but it's easier to be a dick and only tell you certain things than to be honest about what's really fucking going on, all right?" he said, and my hand froze, inches from rubbing his back. "Trust me, kid; the less you know about this shit the better."

I glared. "Better for whom?"

Edward bent down and picked up a pair of his jeans, searching through the pockets and pulling the inner lining inside out. He cursed under his breath and threw them to the floor. "Where are my God damn smokes?"

"Better for whom?" I repeated.

He was frantic and crazed, turning to the bedside table, yanking the drawers out, and rummaging through them. I'd continued to ask him the same question, over and over, louder than the last, until I'd reached my limit.

"Hey, asshole!" I shouted, slapping him on the shoulder.

"What?" He swung around, an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth.

He didn't hear a damn word I said.

"You know what, never mind, you're right," I said, getting off the bed. "It is a piss-poor excuse for being a shitty boyfriend."

Naked and vulnerable, I snagged one of Edward's discarded t-shirts off a chair and pulled the worn cotton over my head. The smell of him that lingered there was unexpected, and it ambushed my sanity. In that second, that was where my sickness for Edward took over. Even though I was furious, having a part of him on me was a necessity, like breathing. However, I would rather hold my breath for eternity than spend a second without him.

"You're leaving me now," he surmised, following my pace around the room.

I wanted to laugh. "No, I'll kill you long before I fucking leave you, Edward."

"I bet you would." He smiled and wiped it from his face within the next second. I might have missed it if I hadn't been watching him with absorbed concentration.

"What else have you kept from me with this whole the less you know, the better business?" I asked, using air quotes to demonstrate how his excuse was fucking lame. Edward managed to take all the tiny fragments and moments in our relationship and put considerable doubt in them. I shook my head in disbelief. "Is anything real?"

"Yes," he said with a heavy sigh, sliding the cigarette behind his ear and holding his hand out to me. "We're real."

I stopped and narrowed my eyes, not wanting to give in to his touch, but it was late, nearly one in the morning, and the energy to sustain a decent fight with him was daunting.

"Damn it," I whispered, taking the bait. Edward pulled me down next to him, rubbing his hand up and down my leg.

I hated myself for being weak and him for being so gorgeous.

"Listen to me," he said, applying a gentle squeeze to my thigh. "I've been on my own since I was twelve, okay?"

"Okay...?" I had no fucking clue where he was going with this.

"Even with Jasper and Em in my corner," he continued, "and I never had to worry about them. Their lives didn't affect mine."

"But that's the thing. Yours affects mine!" I said, rising from my bed and settling down on his lap. There was skin-to-skin contact, bare and heated, aroused and provoking. "My whole fucking world revolves around you, and all I want is for you to be equally consumed by me."

I felt him twitch, and he closed his eyes to maintain focus. Clutching my shirt, practically ripping it off, he spoke through clenched teeth. "Bella, but you have to understand something—"

"No, Edward, no buts about it. It's me and you or nothing. I want us to be the family, and no one outside of this should matter—not Alice or Emmett."

His eyes snapped open. "You want me to drop our family?"

"When it comes to exclusivity? Yes, I do." He was quietly debating my terms, head downcast and chewing the shit out of his lip ring. I wanted to pull that fucking thing out of his mouth with my teeth. "I should be the first to know things, not the last. I know it's a clingy and selfish request, but I don't fucking care anymore. That's what I want." I rocked my hips into him, eliciting a throaty groan. "Can you give me that?"

"See, that's my problem, kid. You've been my everything since that first night we met," he said, gazing up at me, and there in those eyes, open and sincere, was unspoken resentment, "and it scares the fucking shit out of me."

"Which part of this equation scares you?" I asked, and he waved his hand over me. It threw me for a second, not knowing what he meant, but allowing my brain to ponder wasn't good for anybody. It went far south with it. "So what," the anger pulsated in my skull, "being a committed, one woman man terrifies you?"

"What?" He was shaking his head. "Bella—fuck! That's not what I meant."

It was too late, and my jealousy engulfed me, masking the hurt. I'd given everything to this man: my life, purity, and soul.

"Well, I'm sorry you feel like you're tied down to me and just can't go out there and fuck whomever you want," I said and pushed myself up. The thought of Edward kissing and touching another girl made me sick.

"Get your ass back here," he said with severe glare, grabbing my hips with a painful grip and forcing me down on his lap. "Jesus, woman, I don't want fuck anybody else."

"Then what is it?" I asked, slackening into him, our breathing coinciding as one. "Why would wanting to be with me scare you?"

"Because," Edward stated slowly, staring up at me with these dark and pained eyes, "if something ever happened and I was to lose you."

"But you're not going to lose me."

He scoffed. "And how can I guarantee that? You threaten to leave me all the fucking time—"

"Hey," I butted in, "I already told you I'd kill you first."

There was a hint of a smile, but it was short-lived. Edward groaned, low and frustrated, dropping his forehead to my chest and wrapping his arms around me. "You have no idea how much…fuck! I don't want to think about it anymore, okay?"

"Okay," I said, playing with the tuft of hair back of his neck. "What do you want?"

"You," he said, slipping his hands up and engulfing my face. He pulled me down into a kiss, pressing his lips to mine. They were patient and unhurried yet earnest and wanting.

Distraction was his game.

"I know what you're doing," I said between breaths as he slipped his hands underneath my shirt.

And I fell for it every time.

"Oh, yeah?" he said, pulling off my shirt and throwing it to the ground.

My breath caught as his fingers moved upwards on my damp skin, lightly traveling along my rib cage until he got to my breasts, holding them and gently rolling his thumb over my nipples. He peered up at me, and I watched, holding my breath as he leaned in and took my nipple into his mouth. The tip of his tongue lolled over the peak, teeth grazing and biting me. I whimpered, rocking and swaying my hips into him.

Nothing was separating us, both bare and aroused. Edward was hard and wedged between my thighs, coaxing and sliding, and his cock piercing would rub up against my clit with every slight shift of our bodies. It all became unbearable.

I needed more friction.

I needed to feel him.

Rising to my knees, I reached down and grasped a firm hold of the shaft, stroking and guiding him inside. It was instant. The warmth and feeling of wholeness took over, and my muscles clenched tightly around him. Edward's head fell back, and he moaned. The pleasure on his face, caused by being inside me, ignited this crazed and overwhelming passion from within me.

I was ravenous.

Grabbing him by his hair, I brought him up and captured his mouth, kissing him deeply and fervently. He responded by grasping my waist and lifting me, guiding me down on his cock into easy and gradual motion. It hit every inch of me thoroughly. With each stroke, he was tender and deliberate, pulling out only to push back in. Each time his progression was gentle and painstakingly slower than the last.

I panted softly against his parted lips as my eyes were closed so tight, and I felt the heat crash over me like a tidal way. My love, devotion, need, and obsession for this man blended and overlapped, creating an explosive mix.

I tried to quicken the pace, needing more, craving more, but Edward would still me by adding extra pressure on my hips. Then, finally, he smiled at me as I pouted, softly pecking and kissing my lips, repeatedly telling me to 'slow down.'

I nodded and rode out the stride he set, grasping his shoulders for leverage and pushing myself upward. He brushed the hair from my face, and he glided his thumb over my bottom lip every so often before kissing me.

Something shifted inside me, inside him, or the universe. I didn't know, but this was different. I could feel it. When we locked eyes, I would catch a glimpse of his possessiveness. It was dominant and protective—sexy as hell, but there was something more unexpected and earth-shattering. The sheer adoration hidden behind the vivid greens, revealing itself for the first time, stunned me.

Knowing and seeing are two different things. I knew Edward loved me, but seeing how much he loved me in this intense and unfathomable way was emotionally devastating. It heightened everything I felt at that moment, sending my world into a tailspin.

It was too bright, like staring at the sun, and I had to look away.

Breaking the gaze he had me under, I hid my face in the security of his neck. I breathed him in and closed my eyes painfully tight, begging and pleading for the tears not to roll.

Edward stopped moving, rubbing his hand up and down my back, fully aware of my sudden change. "Baby, what's wrong?"

I shook my head, feeling the tears betray me by bursting through and streaming down my cheek.

"Bullshit," he muttered, putting his arms around me into a bear hug and rising to his feet. He spun around and laid me on the bed, still firmly between my legs. He tried to pull away from me to get a good look at me as I crumbled, but I clung to him, crying like a stupid, overly emotional girl. He didn't fight me, conceding to my whim and lying on top of me. He whispered into my ear. "Do you want to stop?"

"No," I said in a soft, timid voice. "Please…just…hold me."

"Okay," he said, snaking his arms under me, pressing our bodies together. He waited for a moment, unsure if he really should continue, but I shifted my hips, lining him up to where Edward needed to be, and he finally pushed forward, easing into me.

This time I didn't want to rush it. The feeling of still wanting and needing Edward was always there but in a different way. It wasn't just sex anymore. It felt good, so good. He filled me to the hilt and emitted that inferno of sensations and overwhelming pleasure that only ever burned for him.

With every kiss, soft and longing, and every thrust, deep and penetrating, I knew that outside forces could never disrupt how close we were.

He was mine, and I was his.

We couldn't be any more of a family.

Today was the last day we'll be in Chicago, which was bittersweet. It was a beautiful city, and I wished Edward and I could've stayed longer without hiding in the shadows. It would've been nice to tour the river on a boat or marvel at The Sears Tower, but we were criminals, wanted by the law, and doing the mundane act of tourism in public wasn't possible for us.

In an hour, around ten-thirty, we were going to leave this hotel as Frankie and Cecilia Wallis. Around eleven-forty-five, we'll enter the first bank in the suburbs of Chicago and close an account. After that, Frankie and Cecilia will jump around the state of Illinois, visiting various banks in various towns and closing those accounts. By the time the sun goes down in the west, Mr. and Mrs. Cecilia Wallis will be worth over twenty million.

It was easy money.

By midnight, two people, unknown to anybody, names still undecided, will enter Springfield airport and catch the red-eye to Mexico City. The passports and identification would be flawless and unmistakable, and security won't even bat an eye. They'll let the couple through, not knowing who they had, and never see them again.

Isabella Swan and Edward Cullen would be nothing but a memory after this day. The only thing validating our existence would be the ongoing news coverage of our crimes on TV.

"Well, I see you two have made up," Charlotte said.

I blinked a couple of times, coming out of my thoughts and staring at her reflection in the mirror. "What?"

She chuckled, pressing a finger into the dark purple bruise on my neck—one in a series of clusters. "The love bite?"

God, I forgot about those. Edward was like a damn vacuum.

"Can you cover it?" I asked, my face turning a bright red.

"Let's see what I can do," she said with a sweet and caring smile, reaching into her makeup bag to pull out the concealer and foundation.

Things between Charlotte and me were still strained. When I first entered Peter and Charlotte's hotel room, they weren't as bad as this morning. However, it was a tad uncomfortable from the get-go, and that was putting it mildly.

The fact that I tried to kill her for innocently touching Edward's knee was pretty bad, but then they witnessed the embarrassing lover's quarrel. God only knows what else they heard, the walls in this place were paper thin, and our rooms were side by side—yeah, can't get any more awkward than that.

"Char," I said, gulping down my nerves and peeking at her through my eyelashes, "I'm sorry about yesterday."

She was dabbing a glop of foundation on the mark on my neck. "For what, Hon?"

"You know," I shrugged, "for what happened in the car."

She raised an eyebrow and shook her head slowly, still not following, and I knew she was going to make me fucking say it.

"For…" I lowered my voice, "trying to, you know, kill you."

"Oh!" She laughed. "Yes, I remember now."

"I'm sorry," I said, gazing down at my hands, which were folded on my lap, fingers pulling at each other and fidgeting with unease. "I don't know what got into me."

"Let me tell you a little story, Bella," she said, coming in front of me and sitting on the counter. "About six years ago, there was this girl named Maria. She was young, maybe around your age at the time. She was a waitress at the bar Peter and I hung out at, and she was a cute girl, a little forward with the customers, but she seemed harmless." Charlotte waved her hand, dismissing this Maria. "Anyway, one night, she went to our table and started flirting with Peter. I asked her not to several times, and even Peter told her he wasn't interested, but she wouldn't listen." Her voice was serene and calm, smiling wistfully at the memory. "To make a long story short, I took her out into the alley and slit her throat."

It was unexpected, and I choked on my spit, hacking away as she patted me on my back. When I looked up into her clear blue eyes, I saw how unaffected she was by her little tale.

"You killed her?" I croaked.

She nodded. "I did ask her not to touch him."

There was brutality there, hidden under the surface of tranquility. I'd never known how dangerous Charlotte was; frankly, I couldn't speak. My thoughts, racing and disorganized, caught up in my throat.

"My point is," she said, breaking the painful silence, "I know what that feeling is like, and I should have known better."

"But you weren't flirting with Edward." I realized how insane I'd been.

"That's true, I wasn't, but that doesn't matter. Edward is yours," she hopped off the counter and stood behind me, meeting my eyes in the mirror. "You and I are alike, more than you know; the only difference is that it takes me much longer to reach my breaking point."

I smiled, knowing what she meant. "I'm a spur-of-the-moment kind of gal."

"Yeah, no shit," she said with a wink.

After that, things were easy between us. There was mutual admiration, and we talked about everything. Charlotte told me the stories of crime with Peter during their heyday and the trips around the country with a twisted sense of humor. The recklessness and brutality of their conquest had an aura of familiarity.

It was odd seeing my future play out in someone else's past.

"What do you think?" Charlotte asked, backing away and revealing me to the mirror.

I didn't look like me, that's for sure.

The makeup was flawless with the heavy eye shadow and red lips, and my hair a smooth and glossy reddish-bronze. Edward suggested the dye job. He said it was best if we wore a different appearance. I understood, but the color was an odd choice. Don't most men want their women to go blonde?

"It's…" I faltered on my words.

"You hate it?" Charlotte frowned.

"No!" I said, standing up, getting the full view of Esme's dress. It was larger in the bust, but other than that, it was a good fit. The color was a dark blue; royal blue was what Charlotte called it. "I just feel weird without my chucks, ya know?"

She rolled her eyes, shoving black heels into my hands. "Put these on."

"Now, what happens if I sprang my ankle running in these?" I asked, holding onto the chair for support, slipping into one heel at a time.

"I'll carry you," Edward chimed in.

I swung around, blinded by the incoming sunlight, and I had to squint to see the somewhat of outline of him. He chuckled, noticing my difficulty, and shut the door. Once my eyes adjusted, I couldn't breathe, and my fucking jaw hit the floor. Edward stood there with a devilish smirk, dressed in his father's grey Armani suit. He was tall and lean, and it fit him like a fucking glove, but seeing him that way, a businessman attired, wasn't what caused my heart to skip a few beats. The once unruly, copper-brown hair was now blond and slicked back. All traces of the outlaw I'd grown in love with was wiped clean and replaced with a smarmy politician.

"Holy fucking shit!" I gasped, my legs going weak, losing all my balance. The shoe I was holding dropped to the ground, and I wobbled, causing Edward to cross the room with one stride and catch me.

He laughed, holding me up and shaking his head. "I didn't mean you should sprang your fucking ankle now."

The steely eyes and crooked grin were the same, but everything else was reminiscent of an old memory.

"You look like your dad," I blurted out.

"Good," he said, squeezing my hand and assisting me to an upright position. I just stared, completely in awe of his transformation. Even the tattoo he had on the left side of his neck was gone, masked by the foundation. He noticed me gawking, and his brows knitted together as he chewed on his bottom lip, both piercings gone again. "It freaks you out, yeah?"

I shook my head, catching a hint of my reflection in the mirror, and the hair color he chose for me made sense. I knew what he was hoping to accomplish. "We're going as your parents, aren't we?"

He shrugged, escorting me over to the bed. "Why not?" He squatted down and grabbed my discarded heel, sliding it on my foot. "We've got their clothes," he smiled, hand slowly moving up my leg, "and soon, we'll have their money."

"Laundered money," I said, my eyes on the closed bathroom door, waiting for Charlotte to exit as Edward inched higher and higher, skimming my thigh.

"All the more reason to steal it," he said, fingertips ghosting over the fabric of my panties. A simple pressure added a poke and a caress, driving me up the wall, and just when I was ready to grab him by that fucking tie and take him here on this bed, his hand retreated, and he rose to his feet. Pouting by protruding my lip, he leaned over and kissed me quickly. "Are you done here?"

"Yeah," I said, breathing heavily, aroused, and suspicious. My old man distracted me again. I narrowed my eyes. "Why?"

"I need you to come next door with me," he said, taking me by the hand and helping me up. We were outside, two seconds away from the room next door when he looked down at me and said. "You look beautiful, by the way."

I grinned, running my fingers over his navy blue and black striped tie. "You don't look too bad yourself, Senator."

Edward came to an abrupt halt and rushed me, hands in my hair, face close to mine. He surrounded me. It was intoxicating, mint gum, aftershave, and spiced cologne. He pushed me back, forcing me against the wall between the rooms. I didn't even have a chance to take my next breath before his lips were rough and powerfully kissing mine. He firmly gripped my thigh, hiking my leg and pressing his hips to me. I grabbed the suit's lapel, jerking him closer, and he dug his fingers into my leg, biting my lip and causing both of us to moan.

The tickle of stucco on the wall, stabbing me in the back as Edward pressed all his weight, caused me to wince in pain. I tore my lips away to tell him we had to stop when he attacked my neck, kissing and nibbling the skin. Instead, he thrust his hand higher up my dress, palming my ass. I was lost to everything, bringing his mouth back to mine and kissing him with more vigor.

We were going to fuck right here on this damn walkway. I could feel Edward's fingers pulling on the elastic of my panties when there was a loud and disruptive cough of someone clearing their throat behind us.

We both froze, lips still engaged, and I opened my eyes, peeking over Edward's shoulder. A lady was standing there with an amused smile. I could feel my face flushing with humiliation.

"You dropped something," she said and walked away.

Edward pulled away, releasing me from his entrapment, and glanced down at where the lady pointed. He laughed, shaking his head and bending down to pick it up.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Don't call me Senator again, okay?" he said with a wink, putting the object in my hand and closing my fingers around it.

"Okay," I agreed, opening my palm to find the Campaign pin I'd taken from the Senator over a month ago. My trophy of that night. I shot a surprised look at Edward. "Where…?"

"Come on," he said, tugging on the belt of my dress, pulling me away from the wall, and leading me into Peter and Charlotte's hotel room.

Staring down at the pin, I was fascinated by its sudden re-emergence. I knew Edward had it on him, but I didn't know why. It was so random.

"Bella," Edward said, nudging my shoulder.

"Yeah," I said, tearing my eyes away from the pin and up at Edward. He nodded towards the end of the room, and I followed his gaze, noticing Peter standing by the sink with his arms folded over his chest. He looked apprehensive, eyes flashing to me, Edward, and then back to me. It was the strangest thing, and I knew that something was up. "Okay, what's going on?"

"Do you trust me?" Edward asked, stepping in front of me.

I snorted in derision. We were way past that.

He laughed. "Right. Stupid question."

"Yep," I said, curiously peeking around him, and he moved with me, blocking my view. Now I was annoyed. "What the hell it's going on?"

"Peter suggested something to me, too help us focus."

"Focus how?"

"Something to keep our head in the game." He smirked, crooked and beautiful. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we tend to get distracted a lot."

I could see the smeared lipstick on my face.

"That's an understatement."

"Exactly," he said, grabbing my hands and slowly walking me backward toward the sink.

Peter stepped away from his post, revealing several lines of coke on a hand mirror. I glanced up at Edward, seeing that he was already watching me. There was a nervous hesitance as he waited for me to yell or kiss him. It surprised me more than anything.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"I thought you were against snorting coke."

"I was—and still am, but you fucking insisted on taking it from Ramon, and I need you to be focused. So there it is."

"There it is," I said, anxiously gnawing on the inside of my cheek. "Have you ever tried it?"

"Yes."

"What's it like?"

Edward smiled, knowing he already had me on board. "It makes you feel like a million bucks."

I nodded, feeling the excitement build. "Okay, I'm down."

"Okay," he said, letting go of my hands. "Do you want me to go first?"

"Yes, please." I sounded so childlike, high-pitched, and sweet.

He chuckled. "All right then."

I watched him closely, taking a tightly rolled twenty-dollar bill and putting it at the end of the line, hovering over it. He bent down and put the other end go his nostril, plugging the other one with his finger, breathing in with a hard sniff, moving it across from left to right in one fluid motion. He tilted his head back and pinched his nostrils, sniffing and breathing through his mouth.

"Fuck," he said, turning to me and holding out the rolled bill. "You're up, kid."

"Okay," I said, grabbing it from him with trembling hands and a pounding heart. I put the tip of the rolled twenty at the remaining line and took one hard snort.

AN: Re-reading this, I'm starting to think Jasper had a point. Holy smokes, these two fools.