DISCLAIMER: The story doesn't belong to me; the characters are property of S. Meyer, and the plot belongs to Annalau Thank you so much for letting me share your story in English!
Gracias Laura, por darme esta oportunidad!
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Chapter 1
With my forehead pearly with sweat I give another hook. My concentration is on the sandbag I'm whipping, I deliver blow after blow with my gloved fists.
Extreme sport is my passion. My legs need to climb mountains, my eyes demand skydiving, my heart beats at the speed of surfing waves and my arms for kayaking. Anything that involves risk and adventure is necessary to survive.
However, when the damn job doesn't allow me to be free; boxing is always the oasis my brain needs to get the stress out and relax my mind and body.
I am safe.
"Relax, brother. The poor sack is not to blame for your lousy mood."
I ignore Jake's comment by returning to lashing out at the sack.
"By the way, what did you find out about your father's mistress? I noticed she's very young."
I inhale, I don't want to go back to where it all started.
"Hey, dad…"
These are my first words entering his office. He is not there, but his laptop is open and there is a photograph on it: it is a young brunette.
I hold the snapshot between my fingers. The young girl is moderately pretty with a cheerful smile and expressive brown eyes. The photograph is no longer relevant when I look at a blue post-it; it has an address and time.
The location is one of our hotels. The furthest out of town.
"Aro..." I hear Dad's voice. Now I know he's in his personal bathroom, and I get closer. "You can't imagine who I'm going to see tonight" he keeps silent to whatever he's listening to. "Yes, he agreed to see me. She's exquisite and I can't wait," he falls silent again. "Of course, for her, I'd sell my soul to the devil if I had to."
My eyes return to the snapshot.
"Her tender and delicate face drives me crazy, and her body even more so," my father declares.
His confession makes me sick to my stomach. My father could easily be her grandfather. On the other hand, it's not the disgust that comes from knowing he was unfaithful, what really fills me with rage is the disillusionment of the impeccable man I thought he was.
"Who are you?" I whisper, looking at the photograph." It doesn't matter, I'm going to find you.
I leave the photo in its place striding out of the office and meet Jake, he smiles at me.
"I need you to do me a favor. I want your father to talk to my father tonight, I want you to entertain him on any pretext, while you and I go somewhere else."
Adrenaline pulls me out of my memories.
I hit the bag with my left fist for the last time.
I look up angrily: Jake is leaning against the locker with his arms crossed and dressed in his perfect executive clothes. What's he doing dressed like that in a gym?
I start to take off my gloves, my knuckles are red as I remove the bandage. I open and close my sore hands.
"Her name is Isabella Marie Swan, born in Forks. She's in her first year of college, and as far as I know, she's barely been living in the city for six months. She is eighteen years old."
Jake raises his bushy, dark eyebrows.
"Carlisle likes fresh meat, uh?" he laughs.
"I don't see the humor."
"I do," he pats my shoulder, walking with me. "Bro, you're overreacting. Your old man's just getting a gray hair in the air, you know what I mean? Get over it. It's not like there's going to be a divorce between your parents. You won't be able to go into depression or they'll take you before the judge to choose which one of them you want to live with."
I turn to look at his face. His stupid, mocking smile prompts me to smash my fist into his upturned face.
"Besides..." He continues, "The one who got sucked off was you, wasn't it?" He smiles wider. "That's a point in your favor. You won your father's woman."
"I remind you that the brat did it thinking it was Carlisle she was serving."
"Whatever, brother. You had the good fortune to be inside the mouth of a college girl."
"You just open your mouth to say all kinds of bullshit."
"Don't tell me you didn't like it," he chuckles.
"I was too drunk to know," I lie. Of course, I remember that little girl very well.
"Don't lie, Edward. You repeated ad nauseam what he did to you, and you also mentioned that you liked it."
"Jake," I warn.
"You should have seen her, she called me an oaf," he laughs, "she also showed me her finger. She looked really funny with that black spot around her eyes, she looked crazy. I liked her.
I go into the shower closing the door in Jake's face.
I shed my clothes, let my hair down and bow my head resting my hands on the tiles. Turning on the faucet, the warm water falls hard on my back and the nape of my neck.
I close my eyes at the same instant my hand goes straight to my cock.
My breathing becomes labored as her mouth envelops me. Instinctively my hips undulate at the delicious sensation of coolness. I rest my hand on her head and instruct her how to continue.
How can she think of having a mint in her mouth when...?
She gags and it's enough to bring her back to reality... I push her away from me.
I shake my head looking at the mess on my palm.
"I'm no better than my father," I mutter, rinsing my hand and letting the water wash away the remnants of my ejaculate.
I have to get that brat out of my mind. I refuse to accept that the memory of her has robbed me of sleep for a week.
Grumpily I start getting dressed, and the office awaits.
On the drive, Jake jokes about Isabella every minute. My foot presses harder on the accelerator, I don't mind speeding, I'd rather earn a traffic ticket if it means getting rid of his presence. Anything is better than continuing to put up with his stupid taunts.
"I'll never understand the way you dress," he criticizes, giving me a sideways glance. Look at you; you look like a jerk, and you need to dress according to your position. You should at least do it when you go to the office.
I ignore him.
My fingers tap the steering wheel because I know Jake doesn't know how to be quiet.
"Even though I'm big, I feel small in this van, Cullen," he whistles softly as he runs his hand across the screen and starts playing his favorite music. I hate urban music, he knows that. That's why he plays it. "A Ford F-150 Limited, it's a great truck. I'm thinking of buying one just like it."
As soon as I park in my spot, I stride out, leaving Jake far behind.
The cold wind numbs my face as I walk against it. January days are always freezing in the city; for this reason, I adjust my black trench coat and keep walking hurriedly while my boots bury themselves in the accumulated snow.
"Hum..." Angela murmurs when she sees me coming, running after me with her notebook in hand. "Good morning, Edward."
My secretary usually eats at all hours, now she's choking on a cookie. When I turn to look at her, her long brown hair brings back a memory. I shake my head, her dark eyes watching me behind her magnifying glasses.
"Angela, do you have sisters," I ask.
She opens her big eyes and beats her chest with her hand, she is choking.
"I'm an only child. Why?"
I shake my hand to play it down and keep walking and a few people wave at me, I respond with a grimace and continue on my way. I walk into the office with Angela and Jake behind me.
Once I put my trench coat back in its place, I start reading the earrings.
"Earlier today I sent a floral ornament for your mother," Angela says, "I also sent the tickets for the cruise, of course in your name as a happy anniversary gift for your parents."
Jake starts coughing disguising his laughter and Angela looks at him blankly.
"Thanks, Ang."
She nods without smiling and leaves the office.
"Can you stop mocking it?" I say. It's unbearable to be listening to your fucking laughter all the time.
He smiles wider, sitting down across from me.
"Your parents are celebrating thirty-five years of marriage. The party will be in style because you have to keep up appearances while the old man eats a little college girl. What a nice family."
"It's embarrassing."
"Come on, man, you're thirty years old. You're no monk to be freaked out by what your dad does."
I slip into my place.
"It bothers me that you think it's funny or that you think it's normal that an old man can be with a young girl. You don't seem to understand anything. It hurts me that Carlisle is not who I thought he was. The old man lectures all over the place claiming to be someone he's not."
"I correct you: that your father gives lectures on self-improvement and success. This has nothing to do with his personal life, Edward."
"He's a hypocrite."
"If he has a mistress, it should be none of your business."
"Of course it is, he's cheating on my mother."
"I'd better go," he stands up and looks at the watch on his wrist. "Ever since you found out about your father's extramarital affair you've been even more unbearable than before. You make me think you're jealous."
"Go to hell."
Jake rolls his eyes and raises his hand, waving goodbye.
He barely leaves and I reach into my pocket, reaching for the cell phone I have with me. I pull it out looking carefully at each image in the photo gallery.
I can tell she's a fan of photos and also apps; especially Instagram and Facebook. I already gave myself enough time to look at every picture and spy on her networks.
From what I read she is in a four-year relationship with Tyler Crowley. The poor schmuck has no idea what the girlfriend is doing behind his back. The guy has sent her enough messages in a week to choke anyone. In the last one, he asks her to respond. I smile as I delete each one. Just as I'm deleting the messages I see an image that catches my attention: she's sent him pictures in her underwear.
I zoom in on the image: her breasts are quite generous and are covered by a pink heart bra as well as her panties. Her pose is a bit sensual because she is on the bed with a finger in her mouth.
Her mouth.
I shake my head throwing my cell phone on the desk.
I rub my face, what's happening to me?
Trying to concentrate my mind on what's really important, I start reading the balance sheets of our hotels.
My cell phone rings, and on the screen, I see Esme's name.
"What's going on mom?"
"Oh, my dear boy, you're coming tonight, aren't you? You know it's important that you and Pat are here. I paid to be on one of the major covers, they'll need to take some family photos of us."
I massage my temples.
"Mom, I'm very busy."
"My boy, will you be nice to mommy? I want you to shave that beard and trim that ponytail. It's disgusting to hear the comments from my friends. You could also wear a tuxedo, I need you to look presentable, Edward. The party is important to me."
I squeeze the bridge of my nose. Every time I visit or talk to my mother I need to fill myself with patience. I love her, no doubt about it, she's just a bit manipulative. She's used to getting her way.
"Mom, I really don't have time to talk. See you tonight, bye."
I end the call. Shouting from reception catches my attention. I am tempted to go out and see who is making such a fuss, but I refrain from doing so when I realize that an exorbitant amount has disappeared from the bottom line.
I begin to read the slight and almost imperceptible shortages for each month. Someone has manipulated and made up the balances so that it is not noticeable.
I stand up in search of my father.
With my eyes on the documents that I keep reading without understanding the reason, I cross the hall to my father's office, knock a couple of times and go inside uninvited.
The office is empty, I'm not surprised. Lately, Carlisle is never anywhere to be found. My mind travels back to the brat from a week ago.
I turn around and my breath catches as I see her talking to Angela. Was she the one shouting? Most likely yes because security surrounds her.
My footsteps get closer. I get a better look at her, realizing she's shorter without those heels I met her in. She must not even be five foot six. She's wearing the same dark trench coat, only now her long wavy hair is done up in a big, high, messy bun.
"I don't give a damn who you are! I want to talk to Carlisle Cullen and I'm not leaving until I do!" She angrily voiced. He's got a temper, no doubt about it.
My blood heats with rage. She wants to see my father. What does she want from him?
I'm willing to confront her. I want an explanation of her relationship with my father.
I walk to intervene in the discussion the brat has generated, I'm about to reach her side.
"Dad!" Pat exclaims to meet me; he hugs me, and I hug him with all my love.
I smile, feeling happy to have him back with me again.
I tousle the hair of my favorite teenager. My thirteen-year-old son Patrick.
Hello. I hope this chapter will help to clear up any doubts that may have arisen. I know that you may wanna know now everything now but be patient, please. What do you think of this Edward? In this story he's a bit different, he even has long hair (kinda) and a ponytail. You'll have the opportunity to read more about his appearance when Bella describes him.
Thank you all for reading and special thanks to those who left a review: JulieToo, Elisabeth123, joshuasmom131, Ale Stewart, Rosemarie28, cocoa blizzard, Dulce Carolina, Evelyne-raconte, and Bevey99
See you on Sunday!