AN: I guess I should have put in a warning that Edward is not a nice guy in this story. It won't always stay like that, but it's obviously been displayed. Anyway, enjoy and review…a lot

I grabbed a table by the window, waiting while I took small sips of my hot tea. I watched the raindrops race down the windowpane as I tried to forget about the ache in my knee. I always thought it was silly when adults complained that their arthritis and surgery scars seemed to flare up when it rained. I no longer thought it to be a crazy notion as I had my leg propped up on a chair to relieve some of the pain. Honestly, though, it had been hurting since the incident in my office. I think my knee was fucked up again. If I had it my way, I would postpone this meeting to another day, but it wasn't my call. However, before I left my home, I made sure to wear my knee brace, put a generous coating of salve on the burn mark, and donned a turtleneck that I'd taken to wearing recently to cover up the purplish-green fingerprint bruises around my neck.

I looked at the time displayed my cell phone. Although I was ten minutes early, he was ten minutes late, but it wasn't as if it was something I could call him out on. Another five minutes, and just seconds from getting up and leaving, I saw him stroll in like he was right on time. Instead of coming over to me, he went over to the counter and ordered a coffee. I waited an additional four minutes before he finally acknowledged me.

"Isabella," he greeted.

"Hello, Mr. Cullen. Thank you for meeting with me."

"Well, I have to say, you're a very …interesting person. You've crossed my mind these past few days. How are things with you and your sister …" he trailed off, waiting for her name.

"Alice. The same, I guess. She's still not talking to me, and honestly, I don't even know what to think of it. She's been mad at me before, but this is on a whole new level," I rambled, feeling a little relieved to say something about it to someone. It's hard to talk to someone when your only friends are your sisters. However, I had to remember who I was talking to, and more likely than not, Edward didn't really give a shit about Alice and me.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It is what it is." I shrugged. "So, um, the reason I asked you to meet with me. It's about Jacob."

"I'm not killing him. That's all you." He took a lazy sip from his paper cup, eyeing me as if I were about to argue.

"I don't want you to kill him, Mr. Cullen, but I do need your help, sort of."

"You don't have to call me Mr. Cullen. Edward would suffice."

I shook my head. "I wouldn't feel comfortable with that. We're not friends, and in some way, you could be considered my boss, though I'm the one paying you," I joked wryly.

He nodded. "Well, the offer still stands." He took another tentative sip. "So how's my father's order coming along?" he asked with a smirk in place.

I groaned internally, not wanting him to know how much this order frustrated the hell out of me. "I've been on the phone all day for the past three days. I don't even want to think about the phone bill," I said, shaking my head. "But I finally got in touch with someone who had a cousin that -" I was saying before Edward cut me off.

"That has a roommate with a sister whose boyfriend's uncle works with Fabbri?" I didn't reply to his sarcastic comment, opting to grind my teeth and bite my tongue. "Look, Isabella, let me know now if you can't get it. It's for your benefit that we know now, rather than later, that you can't complete the order. I'm sure you're aware that we have other dealers that would jump at an opportunity like this to solidify themselves as Carlisle Cullen's personal arms dealer."

I fought the urge to lash out at him and correct his asinine assumption. No one was better than Charles, and Carlisle knew that, which is why my father was his go-to guy. I wasn't half as good as my father, but my drive to uphold my father's reputation was strong.

Edward was also wrong for thinking that another dealer would want the chance to take and complete this order in the timeframe I was given. It was close to impossible, but impossible wasn't in the Cullen vocabulary.

"That's not what I'm saying, Mr. Cullen. I was able to place the order," I began, leaving out the part where I had to throw the Cullen name around a bit, "but the price has gone up, and I'm losing a great deal of money on this," I ground out.

"How much is a great deal?"

I blow out a harsh breath that stung my throat. "Let's just say that I'm not making a profit on this sale," I answered vaguely. The truth of the matter was that I was taking an extreme loss. I was being ripped off and I knew it, but there wasn't much I could do unless I wanted to piss off Carlisle Cullen and/or ruin the Swan name that Charles had built. Neither was an option.

I stared at him for a couple of seconds, remembering the handsome man that rejected me so many years ago in a similar setting. "You don't remember me, do you?" I asked, cocking my head to the side.

"Should I?" He looked at me curiously. "Are you someone other than Charles' daughter?"

"I suppose not. It was a quick encounter in New York some years ago."

"Feel free to refresh my memory."

"It was in a coffee shop in New York, ironically. I went over to you and asked to buy you a fresh cup of coffee–from what I observed you had the same beverage for a while. Anyway, I asked you, you looked me up and down and told me to go away; said you didn't entertain women that were less than stunning." It didn't bother me much anymore, but at the time it was like a low blow to my already dwindling self-esteem.

He looked at me with surprised yet angry eyes. "You're lying," he responded irritably.

"No." I shook my head calmly. "I went back to my table in the corner, licking my wounds and watched as some beautiful redhead came in a few minutes later. She placed a kiss on your cheek and sat down with you. I understood after seeing her. I definitely couldn't compare to her; you made a good choice."

"Did you know who I was then?" he asked, still upset. Why, I had no idea.

"I knew of you, but I didn't know what you looked like. I made the trip with Charles, who was actually in town to meet with your father. I guess the answer, though, is that no, I didn't know who you were. You were just a pretty face who sent off this mysterious vibe."

Edward seemed lost in thought. I used the moment to pull the cotton cloth away from my neck, desperate for a cool breeze. The amount of body heat, combined with the heat of the brewing coffees and boiling water, were becoming stifling.

"Shit," I heard Edward hiss as I let the cloth hug my neck once again. He reached his hand out toward me, and I couldn't help but flinch and wait for an oncoming blow.

"Christ, I wasn't going to hurt you," he snapped.

"Sorry." There was a tense silence. "It's not as bad as it looks, anyway." I don't know why I was trying to make him feel better about trying to kill me. I couldn't even bring myself to tell him that my trachea sustained way more damage. The discoloring was nothing. I hadn't eaten solid food for days, not for a lack of trying, and the only thing that helped–only the slightest bit–was tea.

I began rubbing my knee as it seemed that the tension was starting to take on a physical effect.

"What's that about?" Edward asked, finding his voice as he nodded over to my leg perched on the extra chair.

"Bad motorcycle accident about three years ago. I got some pretty bad road rash, but my knee got the worst of it. I needed two surgeries and about nine months of rehab. It tends to ache on rainy days," I explained, leaving out the part about landing on it the other day. He had done a good job of effectively fucking me up without much effort.

The silence after was still strained, and I honestly couldn't put my finger on the reason. Edward wasn't sorry for what he did, and I knew for a fact–based on my father's stories–that these Cullen men had no qualms about getting their hands dirty when it came to the "family business". Violence was second nature in their world, as it was in mine. Though not often, some victims live to see another day, and it was something that we had to suck up and deal with.

Maybe that's what was bothering him? That he hadn't killed me.

"Are you pissed off because you didn't kill me when you had the chance?" I asked before really thinking the question through. Edward's look of surprise matched the utter shitstorm that was going through my head when I spoke–truthfully-out of turn.

He leaned in close and began whispering harshly. "Do you fucking hear yourself right now? What kind of fucking question is that to ask me?"

I lowered my eyes from his, out of both embarrassment and respect. "I apologize."

This meeting was going nowhere fast with no results. I needed us to get back on track to the question at hand before I managed to get my head blown off. Time was not something that was on my side, and I needed an answer from him. If he refused my request, which he most likely would, then I would need a plan B.

However, before I could bring up the Jacob issue again, the other two Cullen brothers strode in. They headed straight for our table. I kept my head up, but my eyes turned down. Truth be told, I was a little afraid of them.

"Bella," Emmett greeted, smiling politely.

"Mr. Cullen," I nodded back. "Mr. Cullen," I nodded at Jasper. They both chuckled, but didn't correct me. Grabbing chairs from nearby tables, they sat, flanking Edward. All three looked at me expectantly. What they were expecting, I didn't know. Maybe I was being dismissed.

"I guess I'll be going then," I said awkwardly. I stood from my chair, gathered my things, and began walking away with a noticeable limp. The plan was to walk home since I only lived a few blocks; however, the ache in my knee was less bearable than it was on my way here.

Ten minutes into my walk home, though not much closer, a BMW swerved to a stop in front of me as I tried crossing the street. I was ready to pull out my pistol in agitation, when the driver rolled down the passenger window. Edward sat in the driver's seat, looking as if I was the one that almost ran him over.

"Get in," he ordered. Normally, I would have respectfully declined, but my knee was killing me, and it felt as if I'd never get home.

"Thank you," I said as I closed the door.

"Why did you leave?" he asked as he peeled away, throwing me against the car door.

"I just assumed that my time was up, and I'm sure that you had private matters that you had to discuss with your brothers," I explained.

"Assuming is a very dangerous thing, Isabella."

The car ride became silent. I wasn't even granted the distraction of the radio playing in the background. It was tense being so close to him. Not only was the sexual tension–at least on my side–making me dizzy, but he was an unpredictable man with a temper problem.

I kept my eyes studiously looking out the window. The scenery was familiar. He knew exactly where I lived without me having to tell him. That, alone, made me nervous. How much more did he know about me? Probably more than I would be comfortable with.

He reached my apartment complex minutes later. I turned to thank him for the ride, but he spoke before I could.

"Seven thirty tonight. Meet me at Salvador's for dinner, and we'll discuss your request further. I'll see you later."