BPOV
People always talked about how magical New York City was. It was the city that never sleeps, the capitol of the world, a melting pot of cultures and people. I had always been pretty indifferent on the subject. I never really had the desire to run off to New York City to experience the crowds or see the plaza or do any of those things.
Now, I was fairly certain New York City would end up being one of my favorite places. The reasoning for that made me an adulterating whore, but that was an issue I was going to focus on another time because I wasn't sure if I had ever been this happy before. The kind of happy where I woke up smiling after sleeping seven hours, worked because I enjoyed the challenge and not the distraction.
In the back of my mind, the real world was always there. Edward never wore his wedding ring around me anymore and I had to lie to Rosalie on a daily basis whenever we talked. But, then, Edward would knock on my door and everything was forgotten.
I didn't work for him.
He wasn't married.
I didn't have a hundred and one issues holding me back in life.
He was mine.
I was his.
It was simple and easy and blissful. I simultaneously craved the sun setting every night and loathed that it meant another day had passed. My butterflies were thriving; constantly fluttering around happily in my stomach. No longer pestering me into giving them a moment with Edward when they knew him so well now.
We did. Know him, that is. My butterflies and I. More than what his hair felt like between my fingers or what the muscles of his back felt like as he moved. We talked a lot. More than I had talked to anyone since my first few months knowing Rosalie.
Edward seemed to find a new subject every day that he was curious about. Sometimes it was college, then it would be my friendship with Rosalie or the people I worked with. He always gratefully took the hint when I steered clear of his subtle questions about my family. In return, he would talk to me about how he really did want to turn his show around. Or tell me stories about what it was like raising Masen and Lucy. Irina was his no-go subject.
He had surprised me Monday morning with a complete plan for what he wanted his appearance on the show to accomplish. He wanted to own up what his show had become and show people he was stepping away from that. That he was still the guy who could talk to anyone about anything and enjoyed a good joke or game. He went in that morning with his own monologue written and the writers loved it, throwing out the one they had already written for him.
Somehow, even with this new dynamic we had, we still worked well together. Most of the time.
"You have to stop looking at me like that," I sighed, pressing the elevator button for the lobby.
It was Wednesday morning and we were headed out for the day. I straightened myself in the elevator beside Edward, pulling my bag higher up on my shoulder and flattening a hand down the skirt of my dress. It was a simple dress; short sleeved black top and a tulip skirt that stopped mid-calf. No one was all that formal at the studio.
"Like what?" Edward asked, feigning a look of innocence at me.
"Like you've seen me naked," I whispered, though no one else was in here with us.
"Oh, I have," he teased, his voice sounding oddly proud. He came to stand behind me, lips torturously close to my ear. "And after last night I have the wonderful image of your lips wrapped around my cock, too."
I huffed out an exasperated breath, but let my body lean back against his. Last night had been kind of spectacular, but I could say that about every night we had been in New York. I couldn't say a blowjob had ever been very high on my list of to-dos. But, it was now that I knew it meant I got to watch Edward throw his head back against the couch and feel his fingers dig into my hair.
I smiled at him through the elevator mirror, not bothering to think about the embarrassing flush of my cheeks. Instead, I focused on his cheeks that were getting increasingly covered day by day.
"You're getting scruffy," I mumbled, changing the subject.
Edward's mood shifted immediately. He stepped back beside me, running an uncomfortable hand along his chin. "I like to take advantage of not having to shave every day for the show when I can. Does it bother you?"
I shrugged, "I kind of like it," before stepping out of the now open elevator doors.
As usual, there was a very hectic vibe walking into the studio. The writing portion of the week was officially over with and now came the rehearsals and revisions and cutting and rewriting and a hundred other things before a live show on Saturday night.
Edward was pulled into a conversation with one of the writers once we got here. I wandered over to where his bumper photoshoot was going to take place this morning, walking past a man leading an actual miniature horse through the studio. I froze and stared as they walked passed.
"Don't ask," he mumbled dejectedly.
I chuckled to myself, standing back and watching the small area get set up. There was an intricate looking desk in front of a plain white backdrop, much like the one Edward sat in front of every weeknight.
"Have I told you how much I hate photoshoots?" Edward grumbled, appearing beside me and buttoning up a pristine, grey suit coat. He hadn't been in a suit in days, not since we got to New York, and suddenly my mind was filled with images of getting him out of it.
I shook my head, clearing the rogue thoughts. "Well, this one isn't supposed to take too long. An hour, tops before they're scheduled to shoot the musical guest."
"We're ready for you, Cullen," a man shouted from the set.
Edward grumbled under his breath.
"Hey," I shouted after him as he walked away. When he turned back, I drew a smile over my lips with two fingers. Just like I had done most nights as he walked out for his show. "Smile."
He shook his head with a chuckle, walking away.
I stood out of the way, off to the side and watched. Everything so far this week had run smoothly. The hardest parts were still ahead, but it was a good sign. I hoped.
Edward seemed to be enjoying the work and I was hoping that would bleed into his work at home when this week was over. This attitude on his show would do wonders for his ratings and image.
I was pretty sure this was the real Edward Cullen. One not bogged down by estranged wives or everyday worries. He was sarcastic and witty but kind at the same time. He seemed much more like the man who had booked his show in the first place and less like the one who was on the brink of losing it.
I knew the studio was still in the process of looking for someone they thought could replace him. Edward's agent, a man named Garrett who worked for both his mother and father, too, was just starting contract negotiations. It would be a few months before we really knew where he stood, though.
My job would be pretty easy once people saw him for who he really was. I just needed a few more ways to make that happen.
"Bella," Adam, the head writer, said frantically. He rushed over beside me, a mountain of scripts in his hands. "We need Cullen in this sketch. It's a product placement for – "
"No product placements. I told you that before he signed on."
"You don't even know what it's for," he argued.
"I don't care." We were in the earliest stages of people starting to possibly like and trust him again. I wasn't going to throw in a bunch of paid product placements with that.
Thankfully, Adam seemed to respect my decision and scampered off, shuffling through his scripts. A completely different response than I got from the writers on Edward's show who fought me tooth and nail on every decision.
"You're strict," a soft, slightly high-pitched voice broke me out of my thoughts. The source of the voice had bright blue hair down to her waist. She was about my height, so on the short side, and wore a simple white sun dress.
I was big on researching every possible way the public could critique Edward for this episode, so I knew she was the musical guest. Ashley, nineteen, sudden success for a track she recorded in a basement with a few friends.
"Um, I guess," I responded softly.
"I'm Ashley."
"The musical guest," I nodded, internally rolling my eyes at myself for not knowing what else to say. "I'm Bella."
"So, you're Edward Cullen's publicist?" she asked. When I nodded, she went on. "Are you any good?
I raised my brows at her, surprised by her bluntness.
"Sorry, it's just – my career kind of started like, yesterday. And I have this publicist who was a friend of a friend but I don't really think she cares all that much about me. And I wasn't sure how it was supposed to work."
Work, I could talk about. "Well, I would recommend a publicist who actually cares about you. An indifferent publicist is kind of like getting a public defender who doesn't care if you go to prison or not." I rummaged around my bag for a moment, coming up with a business card. "Newton & Cheney have a good history, if you're looking for someone new."
"Thanks," she sighed happily, taking the card.
Ashely was called away and a few minutes later Edward was done as well. I walked with him through the winding halls, back toward his dressing room.
"Making new friends?" he asked with a smirk.
"Oh, no. I don't make friends. She was asking about finding a publicist."
Edward gave me an odd frown, and I could tell he was going to say something, but then Adam breezed by and distracted him.
-B-
"Fucking rain," Edward grumbled to himself the next night, shaking his floppy hair out in the lobby.
A nasty storm had rolled through this afternoon, but I liked it. The constant sunshine in Los Angeles got tiring after a while. Sometimes it was nice to have a pitter patter of rain on the roof to fall asleep to, or see a flash of lightening outside your window while you read a book.
"I like the rain," I shrugged, smirking over at Edward's frown. I knew he was a California boy, born and raised. He had a natural, subtle tan on his skin year-round and, apparently, got extra grumpy when there was a storm.
"You like getting soaked walking from the car to the door?"
"Well, I'm not going to get all grumpy about it," I retorted. "Besides, you're barely wet."
I spent part of my childhood in one of the wettest cities in the country. There had been days where I walked into high school sopping from the parking lot. Our five steps from the car to the door was hardly torture. Granted, it was coming down good out there, but still.
We stepped in the elevator, side by side, and I pressed the button for our floor.
"I don't like the rain," Edward admitted, tugging at his already drying hair.
"I can tell," I chuckled. I smiled over at him, somehow more comfortable teasing him about his disdain for the rain than I was talking to anyone in any social setting. Before I could put my mind in a tailspin of wondering why that was, I changed the subject quickly.
"You're cute when you're grumpy," I muttered. Ever since Sunday, Edward seemed to enjoy teasing me. Whispering innuendos in my ear just to get me to blush or huff off, always using the excuse that I was cute when I was flustered. Now, it was my turn.
He stared down at me, eyes dark, but followed the no-touching-in-public-spaces rule. The elevator most definitely had a security camera, but our hallway, thankfully, didn't. Edward wasn't the kind of celebrity that had people constantly breathing down his neck, and I highly doubted anyone would be interested enough to hack the hotel security feeds to spy on him, but it was still stupid to risk anything.
Edward smirked down at me. The elevator was filled with the now-familiar sexual tension that I had come to adore. The moment was destroyed when the doors opened and a chorus of his name greeted us.
Fuck.
I grabbed my bag from his hand and let him step out to greet his family. They all seemed to be here; his parents, his sister, Jasper, his children… Irina. Every face made the new knot in my stomach tighten.
All people I was suddenly lying to or betraying. I was having an affair with Carlisle and Esme's son. Alice's brother, Jasper's soon-to-be brother-in-law. Lucy and Masen's father. Irina's husband. All people who had a claim on Edward leaps and bounds larger than any I would ever have.
He was theirs. Not mine. No matter what I told myself in our little New York City bubble. And the smiles and hugs and well wishes suddenly made me want to cry.
The hallway was a flurry of activity. I hopped out of the elevator quickly as the doors closed, having stood there frozen too long. I took a deep breath and made a conscious effort to put a small smile on my face. We had both known his family was coming to support him, but they were all a day early.
"What are you doing here?" Edward gasped, hugging his mother as she beat everyone else to him.
"We came to celebrate," Esme replied obviously.
I watched with a smile as Edward picked Lucy up in a big hug, ignoring her typical teenage screech of "Dad!" before letting her go with a smile. He ruffled Masen's hair, much to his disapproval, then gave his own father a quick hug.
I was dying to make myself scarce, but the hallway was flooded with people. There was nowhere for me to slip through to get to my room without bumping into someone. My need to get away magnified tenfold when Irina sauntered up to him, wrapping herself tightly around Edward in an intimate hug.
Hoping my sudden nausea wasn't evident on my face, I gave Lucy a small wave as she smiled at me from her spot. Hitching my bag further up on my shoulder, I started toward my door but didn't make it very far.
"How's the nose?" Jasper asked, stepping beside me.
"Oh, better. Thank you," I mumbled, absentmindedly running a finger down the bridge of my nose. It had hardly been my focus the last few days. It hadn't been as bad as I thought, though. Healed quicker than it usually did.
Jasper nodded, but his eyes told me he had more to say. "Good."
I slipped past him and did my best not to sprint to my door. I was rummaging through my bag for my key when Alice called my name.
"You're coming, right Bella? To Serendipity to celebrate?"
"I don't want to impose on your family time," I told her quickly. "Thank you, though."
"You should come, sweetheart. You're the one that got Edward the opportunity in the first place," Esme said, coming to stand beside Alice. The crowd in the hallway had broken off in groups. Carlisle and Masen stood near the elevator talking, Lucy and Irina doing the same. Edward's door was open and I guessed he was inside changing out of his 'soaked' clothes before going out with his family.
"I shouldn't," I said calmly, finally pulling my room key out of my bag.
"Our celebration is a bit premature," Esme sighed. "But, I haven't heard my son talk so animatedly about his job in a long time."
"He seems to be enjoying doing the show," I told her, searching my mind for a polite way to exile myself in my room.
"Let's leave her alone now, Alice. Maybe we'll get her to come out with us another night," Esme said, a subtle wink in my direction.
I watched as Alice and Esme walked down the hall, arm in arm, to join the rest of their family. Edward exited his room, closing the door behind him, and was immediately joined by Irina at his side.
His wife. He was going out with his wife and children and family, as he should be.
I saw his eyes, wide and mossy, flash to me a moment before I scurried into my room. As soon as the door clicked shut behind me tears blurred my vision. My back fell against the door, my legs quickly giving out as I slid down to the floor.
I hated crying. It made me feel weak and insecure and my mind always accused me of overreacting whenever tears slid down my cheeks. I spent a lot of my childhood crying over my parents or siblings and I didn't like people having that kind of power over me or my emotions. Not anymore.
This time I had no one to blame for the mess other than myself.
-B-
I ended up on the lounge chair out on my balcony. The rain was still coming down in sheets, sprinkles making their way to me even with overhang. I had a blanket from the bed in my lap, an expensive bottle of wine beside me, and a plate that once contained half a dozen fresh chocolate chip cookies discarded beside the bottle.
I poured the last drops of wine in my glass, swirling it in my hand before taking a large sip. I wasn't a big drinker but I had found an appreciation for it tonight. The wine helped me come to the realization that I was a fucking idiot.
Anyone with a brain could come to the conclusion that Edward was using me for sex. He was a man who, if he was telling me the truth, hadn't gotten laid in over a year. Then I came along, twelve years younger with a gym hobby that left me with a body even my naïve brain knew men appreciated. Add in my inexperience and those fucking butterflies and I was an easy name to add to his list of six, now seven.
In the basic sense, I knew he cared about me. The kind of caring that meant he didn't want to hear that I had died suddenly or was tragically ill.
At the end of the day, we were having an affair. I was his mistress. A homewrecker, though I knew his home had already been destroyed by his wife. That didn't make what we were doing any less of an affair.
I shook my head, because that didn't matter. Not in the long run. Edward had a family and a life and I was just a passing phase for the time being.
The last four days had been amazing, but our secluded life in New York made it easy for me to look past the reality of the situation. What would happen when we got back to Los Angeles? When we weren't living a few feet away from each other?
I hated myself for wanting to frantically come up with some solution. A fix that meant I got to keep kissing him and waking up with him for as long as possible. Because just as he was using me, I was using him, too.
He calmed my butterflies; giving them the attention they craved every night so they didn't pester me so much throughout the day. He listened to me, took my advice about his career and didn't think twice before believing me when I told him about my family troubles. And I more than enjoyed the countless orgasms I had gotten out of the deal.
Seeing his family tonight was a reminder of everything I had been avoiding for the last four days. The most gut-wrenching one being that Edward wasn't mine. He belonged to them.
And I was a bitch for being bitter about it.
I jumped in my seat when the sliding balcony door opened. Edward stepped out, shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.
"What are you doing here?" I gasped, hugging my knees to my chest and pulling the blanket closer around me. I hadn't gotten around to talking myself out of this arrangement yet, and I knew if he was here that wasn't going to happen.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly. He came to my lounge chair, straddling the space where my legs once stretched out. His eyes were apprehensive when his hands reached out, sneaking under the blanket and rubbing comforting circles into my calves before I pushed them away.
"You shouldn't be here," I whispered
Edward had a way of convincing me what we were doing was fine. Which it was, for him, because he wasn't fucking his career away. If word ever got out about this, he'd be fine. Men always were. I, on the other hand, would be fired immediately and probably never get another job in Los Angeles again.
Sometimes, I didn't care about it, though. Sometimes I just wanted to feel something other than the crippling self-doubt I lived with every day. And Edward made me feel everything but doubtful about myself.
"I didn't think they were coming in until tomorrow night," he explained.
"I know."
I knew everyone, including Irina, would show up eventually. As messed up as it was, she did show up for Edward when necessary to sell the happily married story. I just thought I had one more night to mentally prepare myself for it.
"I'm sorry."
I shook my head, running a couple frustrated hands through my hair. "You don't have to apologize, Edward. I… I know what this is. I might be inexperienced but I understand the basics of an affair."
I wasn't expecting the flash of pain across his face, or for it to turn angry. "I don't want her," he argued fiercely, almost like he was arguing with himself, too. "I don't want her. I want you."
I lost every ounce of fight I had in me. Maybe it was because of the wine or his sad eyes but every reason that had floated through my mind the last few hours… all of the logic of why I should never touch him again no longer mattered.
My lips found his quickly, my body pressed as closely to Edward's as I could manage on the lounge chair. We let out matching groans as our tongues met, my hands digging in his hair and never wanting to let go.
We stumbled off of the chair and back inside the room, quite the challenge when neither of us was willing to break our kiss for longer than a few seconds. I ended up pressed against the wall, Edward's hands buried in my hair.
The unpleasant memory of Irina walking beside him, her arm linked with his flashed through my mind. It made an uncomfortable mixture of jealousy and possessiveness shoot through my veins.
I pushed back against him, in the direction of the bedroom, and tossed his jacket off of his shoulders as we went. Edward's hands roamed as we stumbled toward the bed, squeezing my ass or thighs or sneaking underneath the sweatshirt I was wearing. I managed to get his shirt unbuttoned and on the ground before pushing him down on the bed.
Edward wasn't mine. Not on paper, not in any sense of the word other than at night when his hands were on me and not someone else. If that was all I was ever going to get, then I would damn well enjoy it while I could.
I climbed on top of him, not wasting any time in burying my hands back in his hair and pulling his lips to mine. The kiss was rough and my fingers probably tugged too harshly at his hair.
Edward didn't seem to mind, other than a muttered curse when I bit down on his bottom lip. One of his hands snuck underneath the cotton shorts I was wearing, two fingers easily sliding inside me.
My hips bucked against his fingers for a few minutes until I sat up and pushed his hand away. I tossed my sweatshirt across the room, scooting back on Edward's thighs so I could undo his belt and jeans.
I had to stand at the foot of the bed to shimmy the jeans off of his legs. I dropped my shorts with his jeans and got back in my spot on his lap. Leaning over him, I peppered kisses along his chest and neck, up to his scruffy chin while Edward reached blindly over to the nightstand looking for where he had stashed half of his condoms.
Once he had one I snatched it out of his hands, ripping it open and securing it in place. I had no time to worry about never having been on top of him before or to wonder if I was doing something wrong as I slid down slowly on his length.
My eyes squeezed shut, fingers digging into his chest. I made a note of every spot where we touched. My thighs on either side of his, Edward's hands squeezing my waist, my hands on his chest, every inch of him inside me.
Mine, I thought. For tonight, right now, he was mine.
I rolled my hips experimentally against his, smiling at the answering groan I got from Edward. He patiently let me get my bearings straight, hands roaming along my waist and up to my breasts as I rocked against him.
I stopped thinking about anything other than our mutual pleasure, dropping my hips against his. Edward's hands were at my waist, keeping me balanced and digging into my skin with every movement.
"Fuck, baby," Edward groaned, his hips starting to thrust up to meet mine.
I whimpered when Edward's hand slid between us, pressing firmly against my clit with every one of my movement. My toes curled and my nails dug into his chest, the tight coil of pleasure finally snapping throughout my body.
I collapsed against Edward's chest, hearing the familiar incoherent curses that I knew meant he was coming down from the same high I was. I buried my head in his shoulder, actively fighting against another wave of tears.
Edward's hands trailed softly along my bare back. Up and down my spine and along my thighs. He brushed my hair out of my face and pressed his lips against my shoulder. It wasn't long before reality set in again.
"This is wrong," I choked out.
"I know," he answered gruffly.
"We need to stop."
His fingers froze, tracing patterns in my thighs, before his arms wrapped tightly around my back, squeezing me to him. "I know."
I sighed, taking a deep breath of his rain-tinged scent. "I don't want to, though."
"Me either," he whispered, pressing a warm kiss to my shoulder.
A few minutes later I was sitting up in bed, alone, gripping the comforter to my chest. I watched silently as Edward got himself dressed, buckling up his belt and buttoning up his shirt. Once he was dressed he came over to me, burying his hands in my knotted hair and pressing a desperate kiss to my lips. His scruff had left my chin delightfully scratched.
When he pulled away his eyes were sad and maybe a little apprehensive. We had accomplished nothing tonight other than doing exactly what we shouldn't have done in the first place.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly.
No.
"Yes," I sighed.
A/N: When in doubt, throw in some angst. That's my motto. I'm officially out of pre-written chapters thanks to my bout with food poisoning but the next update is mostly done. I'll hopefully be able to update Tuesday/Friday next week!
Also, don't forget that a few of my stories from the Hopeless Series are nominated over at the TwiFic Fandom Awards if you feel like voting!