Chapter 12
After happily resigning into her bathtub, Isabella leaned back, approving of the way the vanilla scented bubbles felt on her skin. As she let the warmness of the water cleanse over her, she beamed to herself. Even though she had denied Edward additional appointments, she believed she had amended the world again. She knew without a doubt that Edward would fight her tooth and nail over the vehicle, but Cedric had surpassed her expectations. Because of her goodwill, Edward would no longer contend her on needing more customers.
Which didn't bother Isabella in the slightest. Of course she needed Edward as well, however, it was for professional and financial reasons only. And if a person were to really ask her about her intentions, they would be innocent. Sure, the sex with him was incredible. Unlike anything she'd ever experienced.
But that was all. Nothing more. Nothing less.
She was unwilling to acknowledge any form of butterflies that settled in her stomach when she saw him. It was sexual adrenaline, pure and simple.
Right?
Right, she assured herself. So yes, if she did admit, for the tiniest fraction of a second that she was a tidbit… invidious… of Edward performing his duties like he should, it was only for the reason that she enjoyed having intercourse with him.
She could at least confess that, right?
Right, she conceded again. So why did it trouble her that he had an appointment, tonight?
She was getting nowhere with this roller coaster of lust and jealousy. It faltered into waves that crashed her again and again. Which she didn't appreciate. Whatsoever.
Isabella drained the water out of her tub, and grasped the Egyptian cotton towel from the rack. After drying her hair and dressing in silk pyjamas, she precipitously recalled the manila file in which Jasper had completed for her earlier. She was so caught up in other matters, she had forgotten all about it. She grabbed the item from her work bag and settled herself onto her living room sofa, glass of wine in hand.
To her credit, her anxiousness did not result in the fumbling of her hands, nor did she open the folder so fast it would resemble a Christmas morning unwrapping massacre.
Isabella held the contents in her hand, shocked by what she saw.
Jasper had not given her papers or background information.
He had given her pictures.
Tons and tons of black and white photographs of Edward.
The man in the photos was not one that she knew. This Edward wore ragged jeans and unkempt plaid shirts. His hair stood out in every direction, not the organized chaos she was used to. There he was getting into his older Volvo, which she presumed he had for collector purposes. Now, she knew for a fact it was his only vehicle. The smoke blowing out the rear end demonstrated just how poor condition it really was in.
The photos also revealed Edward exiting an awful, worn-down apartment building. That couldn't be where he lived.
Perhaps he had been visiting someone.
She kept that optimistic notion until she flipped picture after picture of Edward leaving and going, along with an older frail woman that looked quite similar to him, garbed in hotel attire. Was that his mother?
She looked so… aged.
And if it were true that it was actually his mother, why was he living at home? Surely he had made enough money by now to be living by himself. She knew from his file that he lived on the other side of town, but she never thought that he didn't live alone, or that it was worse than she ever imagined.
That neighborhood, if it was the one she alleged it to be from the photographs, was hell. Occupied with the worst kinds of people. Not because they were less fortunate, no, she wasn't that narrow-minded. But anyone who would sell drugs or have children when they clearly couldn't afford them didn't deserve to be rescued or helped. They made those choices on their own.
And so did Carlisle Cyllen, now that she thought about it. But where was he? She didn't see him in any of the images.
Why did Edward continue to live there?
Why did he lie about wanting a vehicle when he indisputably had other financial obligations?
What was his connection to Alice Brandon?
And if Alice Brandon was indeed an acquaintance of his, why did she allow him to reside in that condition?
Why in the hell did Alice want to be a prostitute in the first place? Isabella had already established that she wasn't the destitute girl she appeared to portray.
Was she there to help Edward?
How come neither of them mentioned the other?
She had so many questions and so little answers.
But Isabella was an intelligent woman. From the photos, she came to one conclusion that she was absolutely positive of.
Edward Cyllen needed her help. And he was not going to get it whoring himself out for a scantily hundred bucks a night only several times a week.
No, he needed more.
He needed her.