A|N: I was sure this would have been up sooner, but I only just got it back yesterday from one of my beta's. RL has gotten to the both of them it seems. Any mistakes left are mine and will be looked over again shortly.

Note: Edward's POV

NOTE (WARNING!): This chapter contains a small lemon scene. If that doesn't suit your fancy, I suggest you skip over it. More importantly, this chapter contains a forced sexual behavior. If you feel you can't stomach that or it's a trigger for you, PLEASE SKIP IT! I don't want to send you anywhere you'd rather not return to..

Chapter Eight: The Story So Far, pt. 1

I never liked the way people looked at me, with a great deal of pity in their eyes. I don't think anyone outside of my family ever knew the specifics of what was going on, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that at home were not all right. No, I didn't like it; I hated it. What I needed was for them to save me, not pity me and tell me things would get better. I never complained or asked for help, though. How could I when my mother had much worse than I did? Sure, he hit me, but what he would do to her was much worse than I liked to remember. Luckily for me, Aunt Esme was always there to comfort me and make me forget, even if only for a little while.

Things got better for me as I got older, however, especially when I became a teenager. Everything I do, everything I know, I learned from him—Edward Sr., my father. I hated the man, I always had, but I couldn't deny the fact that he turned me into what I was becoming—successful. When he died, it was much harder on my mother than it was for me. Even after everything he'd done to her, she still loved him. I was sixteen, and I had already learned everything he had to teach, so it wasn't a very sad day for me.

School was a blur. I worked, and I worked hard, harder than anyone else I knew, and I thrived for perfection, and I achieved perfection. My dad dying gave me control of his company, one of the top law firms in the U.S., but I wasn't able to truly have it until I was twenty.

My mother, Elizabeth, remarried when I was eighteen. I didn't much care for the man, but it was clear to me and everyone around me that he loved my mother as if she were God herself, so I got over it. Besides, Esme had taken me under her wing long before my dad even died, and I'd been living with her since I was fourteen—calling her "mom" more than my own mother. I loved Elizabeth, but Esme was always there—her and Carlisle, my uncle, her husband.

Everything else in my life was a bit of a haze. I didn't like thinking of the past, so I tried to forget it. I did recall many visits to a shrink, countless girls all interested in the "mysterious" Edward Cullen Jr., and the numerous fights I'd gotten in, my anger just as bad as my father's, it would seem.

~MOB~

"Edward, you're twenty-two-years-old. I know that's still young, I know you still have time, a lot of time, but it wouldn't hurt to start thinking about settling down now," Mom said, coming to sit next to me.

It was Sunday night, and we'd just eaten dinner. Now, we were all in the backyard, talking and listening to music the way we always after dinner every Sunday—the way we had been doing since as long as I could remember. Since I was nineteen, Esme never failed to seek me out when I was alone and try to have a "mother-son" bonding moment. I enjoyed them, but now all she talked about was me settling down. "Mom…"

Esme raised her hands in surrender. "I know, I know. I'm just saying. I want to see you happy, Edward. You deserve to be happy."

"I am happy," I assured her, but I wasn't. I never had been. Maybe that was on account to what I had endured, or maybe there was something wrong with me, I didn't know, but I wasn't. Nevertheless, that didn't mean I could let her down by allowing her to think otherwise. "Besides, why are you so sure being with a woman will make me happy? Why are women told to be happy and confident without a man, independent, but men are told to get one?"

Mom rolled her eyes. "I'm sure because, no matter what anyone else thinks or says, everyone needs someone. There's another half for every one person, Edward. And I know you. You don't believe there's anyone out there for you. I just…I don't want you to be afraid for the rest of your life, sweetheart."

The conversation was taking an unexpected turn, and I shifted a little—uncomfortable. I didn't like it. "Afraid of what exactly, Esme?" I was exasperated already.

She gave me a sad smile. "Becoming him."

After she left, I stayed put, just thinking.

I wasn't afraid of becoming him. I was him.

And I liked it.

"You know Mom means well," Alice said, bumping me lightly on the hip with her own.

I nodded. I did know that.

After we'd all been put on kitchen duty—Emmett, Alice, Rosalie, and me a childhood friend—Emmett decided to bring up Esme and her latest game of matchmaker.

"And anyway, Tanya isn't bad. She's actually really smart. And pretty," Alice told me as if I didn't already know.

Rosalie snorted. "Plus, she's a slut, so she's perfect for you."

"I still don't understand why you don't like her," a clueless Emmett butted in. "In the three years we've known Tanya; I haven't seen her do anything to you yet."

Except sleep with you, Rose's face so clearly said to Alice and me, but merely shrugged and continued drying the dishes as I washed them. Rosalie was my best friend. Like Esme, she'd always been there for me whenever she needed me, and I would do anything for the girl. When I'd found out Emmett fucked around with Tanya, I was ready to kill him, but she told me to calm down and let it go, stating he could sleep with whomever he wanted, whenever he wanted, because she didn't care anymore.

She was a liar, but I let it go for her.

"Tanya is fine, but I don't ever see a future with her." I shrugged. "I know she means well, I just wish she would stop."

Rosalie replied, "She just wants to see you happy."

"I know that, too."

Emmett, wearing the big, shit-eating grin he was famous for, laughed and clapped me on the back, knocking me forward just a bit—whether it was intentional or not, I wasn't sure. "You're either going to have to deal with it, bro, or get married."

It was my turn to snort. "Not happening."

"Then, my friend, your only option is to buy yourself a woman to pretend to be your wife for Mom's sake," Emmett joked, clapping me on the back once more before leaving to take out the trash.

We all laughed, taking his joke for what it was, but neither of them noticed my escaping into my own thoughts, contemplating.

~MOB~

"Women are nothing more than a piece of beautiful meat, all dolled up and ready for the taking. Given to us to satisfy our needs, make us look good, and serve us however we see fit and nothing more, Edward. You don't ever treat them like they're anything more. They'll start thinking they can walk all over you and run the place," my father had told a then thirteen-year-old me after catching me watching porn. "There isn't a need for this ever. You see an uncountable number of women every day, son. Just take your pick. 'No' means nothing, nothing, in a man's world. It'll do you good to remember that."

"You…you are absolutely out of your fucking mind!" Rosalie had yelled at me after I'd told her what I was going to do. It was amazing, really, seeing my plan set in on her face. She was confused, and then disbelieving, and then shocked, and finally, angry. Pissed, was more like it. She didn't like this at all. "There is no question about it; this is the most ridiculous thing you have ever thought of."

I rolled my eyes. "Rose, you're making a bigger deal of this than it needs to be."

That was the wrong thing to say. Her eyes narrowed, and she moved closer to me. I took a step back.

"I'm making a bigger deal of this than necessary? Edward, you're talking about buying a woman, for Heaven sakes!" she exclaimed. She continued to walk toward me, and I continued to back up until I tripped and fell into my office chair, leaving me with nowhere else to go. She jabbed her finger into my chest with each word as she spoke. "Women are not property, Edward Cullen, you cannot just find one you like and buy her as your wife, do you hear me?"

I gently slapped her finger away. "Why are you getting upset with me? Emmett's the one that suggested it."

"He was joking! And you know that! God, Edward, you…this is so beneath you. I don't know whom I'm more furious with," she snapped. "You or your father for turning you into this!"

"Don't you dare bring him into this, Rose. You know better," I said warningly, standing up then. "You haven't a right to be upset with him. You don't know him, you never did. And if you don't like the way I am, you could just leave and not come back," I barked, angry.

There was a line when it came to my father, and she had just crossed it. However I felt about him was irrelevant; my father was a man who always demanded respect, and he was going to get it even through death. I would see to it.

She stepped away immediately, her eyes widening slightly and then they narrowed again; she was never one to back down. "I have a right to be upset with whomever in the hell I want to be upset with, including Edward Sr. for being such a dick," she retorted. "If this is the way you're going to act, this is how you're going to live your life, then by all means, go ahead. I'll take your advice and leave."

"You forgot the 'and don't come back' part," was my response.

"I didn't, actually."

She left then, slamming the door to my study loudly in her wake.

"FUCK," I bellowed, upturning my desk.

In a sudden fit of rage, I began to tear away at the study violently, destroying any and everything that my hands touched.

"It all starts with a room," my father had told a then sixteen-year-old me after I'd messed up a room in another fit of rage, just days before he had died. "And ends with another version of me."

I wouldn't say she ever got over it, but two months later, Rose and I were on speaking terms again. A week after that had happened; she agreed to help me look for a wife. I told her she didn't have to, that I'd just find someone else to help me, but she said that if I was going to do it, she wasn't going to let some random stranger who could turn on me in an instant help me.

"But I have conditions," she'd said. I nodded. I knew that was coming. "One: she can't be underage."

I nodded immediately, grimacing. "Of course not. God, no, never."

"Good. I would have kicked your ass had you shown any sigh of not liking that," she answered. "Now, two: she has to come here voluntarily. You can't just by her from somewhere or someone or whatever, and she doesn't want it."

"Okay," I said, nodding. I could make sure that was the case. "Anything else?"

Rosalie shook her head. "No, but if I think of something, I'll let you know." Of course she would. As I stood up to leave, she grabbed my hand gently to stop me. "Edward, if you do something to fuck this up, or you go against my conditions in anyway, I will cut your dick off."

I never doubted her for a second.

It would be two years before I found anyone.

~MOB~

"Yeah, um, my name is Charles—Charles Swan—and I got your, uh, flyer or whatever. It was being passed around at a poker game. Anyway, what you said, it hit close to home. I have a daughter, Bella, she's eighteen, and she's wife material, I think. Just, um, give me a call back…" He went on to give me his cell number and sent a picture of said daughter, but I'd stopped listening then because my shock took control of me for a moment.

"That sick fuck," Rosalie had snapped when I told her. "That's the most disgusting message I have ever heard in my life. I can't…I can't even fucking believe this. What kind of sick fuck calls to discuss selling his daughter? I don't…I can't even right now."

I nodded, but not because I agreed with her, but because I couldn't believe how beautiful the girl was. Not that the other offers I'd gotten weren't good looking, but there was something about this girl and her brown eyes, and her big, happy smile.

"I want her."

Her protest went ignored as I went to call him back.

~MOB~

"So, when do I get my money?"

After weeks of talking back and forth, Charlie Swan and I finally came to a decision—we were doing this. His wife and daughter were supposedly on board, something Rosalie just couldn't understand, and things were going great.

"My assistant will be coming to see you soon. You'll be well informed then," I told him before hanging up.

What I still couldn't get over about the whole situation, both Rose and me, was the fact that the man was an officer. Not only that, but a police chief. He of all people should know nothing good would come out of this. Then again, Rose had been accusing me of calling the kettle black; I was a lawyer, after all.

~MOB~

Breaking the news of what I was doing to Emmett and Cynthia was hard, though it was much, much easier than telling Rosalie. Neither of them stopped talking to me, although Emmett did punch me, leaving a bruise the size of a baseball on my shoulder. For the most part, Cynthia let it go. She didn't like it, but she realized I wasn't going to back out now, so she reluctantly accepted it.

We all agreed that, if we were going to keep this out of the public's and my parents' eye, the best thing to do would be to keep Alice out of it. My sister, she meant well, but she couldn't keep a secret to save her life and neither of us was willing to take that risk.

From there, we got everything set up. Emmett came up with the story, Rosalie set up her room, Cynthia arranged the meeting and looked over flights, and I made a list of everything I would need from Charlie Swan to take care of his daughter.

Isabella Swan. She truly was a thing of beauty, I had to admit, and she was nothing like the other women I was dating—look wise, at least. The four-year age difference had me slightly uncomfortable at first, but I was dealing with it now. She was a dancer—a ballerina—and an amazing one if Charlie Swan's words could be trusted, would be graduating from high school soon, an excellent cook, and didn't speak much.

That would prove to be untrue soon.

"She's sick, Edward!" Rosalie had yelled at me the minute she walked back in the door.

We'd chosen this day to fly Rosalie out to Forks to meet up with Charlie. Though I had already made my decision, I had wanted to make sure this man was legit. I didn't want to be cheated or set up in any kind of way. Plus, it was easier to get a better sense of the man's personality than it was over the phone.

"How so?" I asked, confused. "And how was he?"

She scowled. "He gave me the creeps the minute he opened his door. I didn't like him. I don't like him, Edward. There is something completely off about him, and I'm not comfortable with the fact that I left his daughter there."

"Why's that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

Her scowl deepened. "Aren't you listening to me? Because he was a creep."

"Did he do something?"

"No, but the way he stared at me, Edward. I didn't like it." She looked visibly shaken for a moment, but she shook it off and sat down across from me.

I was sitting on the floor in the living room and looking over Isabella's picture, trying to make sure this was what I really wanted to do. I even started to feel bad for a moment, but then I remembered that I shouldn't. I wouldn't.

My father would be proud.

I shrugged. "Well, there's nothing we can do about that now, so let's move on. You mentioned her being sick? What do you mean?"

"She was diagnosed with Anorexia when she was thirteen-years-0ld." Rose pulled a manila folder out of her gigantic purse and handed it to me. "He gave me her medical file on the way out. She's been to recovery, but, apparently, relapsed recently. Last year. She was in treatment again, but got pulled out. He wouldn't say why, but it's probably got something to do with what he needs the money for."

I looked over the folder she handed me and frowned. "Is she going to need treatment still?"

"He claims she won't. We'll see. I looked it over on the plane. Eating disorders are no joke, Edward," she cautioned me.

I nodded. "I won't take it as one." My frown deepened as I continued to look over her files. "A lot of trips to the hospital."

"A lot of broken bones," Rosalie agreed. Her brow went up this time. "Edward…"

I shook my head. I knew where she was going with this and stopped it immediately. "No. Jumping to conclusions is stupid. We're not stupid. I'll make sure she's taken care of. Thank you for this."

"But…"

"I'll talk to you later, Rose," I dismissed. "And I'll make sure she's taken care of."

She stared at me a moment before giving one quick nod and leaving. After I heard the door shut behind her, I continued to look through the file I'd been given, getting that same sinking feeling I imagined Rosalie to have as she looked this over on the plane.

Finally seeing her in person was better than I thought it was going to be, so much better. Her brown eyes were even more beautiful than I thought, and her lips, stretched into a wide, happy smile in every picture her father had sent me, were plump and pink and begging to be kissed. Her body was pretty amazing, too, all her years of dancing paying off, I guessed.

Her attitude was shit, however, and I wasn't going to put up with it.

"Yes, I can cook. And I can clean. I can do all the wifely tasks you may need from me, Edward. I do, however, refuse to have sex with you," she'd snapped, eyes narrowed.

I retorted with, "I wasn't planning on having sex with you. Ever. I wouldn't." That was a lie. I had been planning on it, and I still was. She wasn't going to just stay in my house and not sleep with me.

She looked away from me then, and I stood there quietly to give her a minute, to let this all sink in. When she hadn't turned back to me, hadn't even said anything, I walked over to her and squatted down beside her.

"Are you okay?" I asked. She screamed, jumped, and banged her head against the car ceiling, and I frowned slightly. That was an overreaction if I'd ever seen one. "You've been spaced out for about five minutes now."

After taking a deep breath, she'd nodded and said, "Yes, yes, I'm fine, thank you." And then she finally looked up at me again, and a little a gasp escaped from between her lips. "They're so green," she whispered.

I was confused as to what she was talking about for a moment, until it dawned on me that the only green thing she could be seeing in that moment was my eyes. "You're talking about my eyes?" I said, clarifying. I smirked. "Thanks, I guess, I get that all the time."

I would have used that moment to make a move. I would have complimented her eyes, placing my hand lightly on her knee, giving it a gently squeeze, and then I would have used my other hand to brush away the hair in her face, using that moment to tell her how beautiful she looked. At that point, her breathing would have picked up slightly as I would have had moved just that much closer to her, and she'd be conflicted—to kiss me or not. I would've made up her mind for her, leaning in to kiss her lightly on the lips, then harder as she finally began to give in. The rest would have been history.

Things didn't go the way I had planned.

"Can you move, please? I'd like to get out of the car now," she'd snapped. I'd schooled my expression into an emotionless mask, but I was shocked. Shocked and displeased—being refused never happened to me. I stood and walked around to the back of the car, getting her bags. "I can do that myself, you know."

Having had enough, I dropped them to the ground. She hadn't been pleasant at all since she'd gotten here, so I was going to stop trying to be. "Fine, I'd rather not help someone who's going to snap at me at the most random times."

"But was it really necessary to drop my bags on the ground?" she asked, coming by me to pick them up. When she got them, she glared at me.

I smirked. "It was. You didn't want my help getting out or taking them in. I imagine you wouldn't want me to bring them to you, either."

"God, I HATE YOU!" she'd yelled out of nowhere.

That caught me off guard. I expected her to be upset by the situation we were in, of course, but for her to say she hated me was another thing all together. "You hate me?"

She nodded and took a step closer to me. "Yes, Edward Cullen, I. Hate. You. I hate you for putting out that stupid ad, I hate you for buying me, and I hate my dad for selling me to you. I. HATE. YOU!" she yelled, her cheeks reddening with anger. "I'll be the perfect wife you need me to be in public and around your family, but other than that I want nothing to do with you, okay?"

She ran inside, and I stood there, honestly taken aback by her words. The ache I was suddenly feeling my chest was one I hadn't felt in a long time, one that hadn't been felt since my father was still beating my mother, but I didn't know why it was there—I didn't know what it meant.

"Yeah, well, you should have thought it over more before you agreed to this shit!" I yelled back when it was much too late. I closed my eyes then, trying to calm myself. "Fucking bitch."

"That isn't how you speak of your wife, young man," came Cynthia's voice. When I opened my eyes back up, she was leaning against the door, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. "What have I always told you?"

I shrugged, feeling like a schoolboy being scolded all of a sudden. "I don't know."

"Edward."

"To never speak when I'm angry," I muttered, feeling my cheeks warm up slightly. "Because the words are always hurtful and most of the time never true."

There were only two women in the world who could ever put me in place: Esme and Cynthia. No matter how old I got, getting in trouble by them was never something I wanted.

"Exactly. Next time, hold your tongue before I snatch it out," she said. "Second, while I don't agree with the way she handled things, either, I can understand why she did it, can't you? Her father just took twenty grand to give her away to a man she knew absolutely nothing about. Give her some credit and show a little respect by not calling her such a foul name, okay?"

I nodded.

"I'll talk to her in the morning, see if I can't help her figure some things out. If the both of you can manage to stay calm and talk this over like the mature adults I believe you both can be, there's no reason why a compromise of some sort can't be settled."

I nodded, and she walked away, but I knew that would never happen.

The little girl was the most infuriating being I have ever come across in my life.

~MOB~

I couldn't describe my feelings for Bella even if it meant saving my life. I'd never been so conflicted with a woman—with life—in my life. I accepted the fact that I was becoming my father, that I was my father, I even grew to like it, but now this girl, this woman, had me questioning everything I've come to believe in.

Was the way I was acting wrong? Was becoming my father such a bad thing? His way was the only way. He wanted—needed—respect and he got it. He was a force to be reckoned with a work, built up one of the top law firms in the country, leaving it for me to run.

After years and years of learning of his ways, I honestly couldn't see the problem.

Not until now, at least. Now…now I wasn't sure.

What I was sure of, though, was that I didn't like the way she made me feel. The way she made me question my life. I mean, who the hell was she to come in my life and change the way I thought? Who was she to change the way I thought? Change all the fucking hard work my dad put in to making me this way?

That wasn't what I paid for.

In fact, I didn't get anything I paid for. Bella spoke her mind, wasn't as reserved as her father led me to believe when he spoke of her, she didn't do as she was told, and she certainly wasn't easy to handle. She was very hard to handle, and, before we reached our agreements, she argued with me on just about everything.

And the way she can't just take the information she's given and be happy, she just had to keep insisting on knowing—that was infuriating.

But she was sexy, quite entertaining, and all the other's except Alice liked her. It was too late to return her now.

"Think of the Devil, and he shall appear," I said as a pajama-clad Bella walked into the kitchen. She rolled her eyes at me, and I chuckled.

"Very funny," she said, pouring herself a cup of orange juice. She turned back to me with a smirk on her face. "You were thinking of me, huh?"

It was my turn to roll my eyes. "What do you want to do today?"

She chuckled. "I just want to sit around in my pajamas all day and watch movies. I'll probably read, too."

I nodded and leaned against the kitchen counter; standing there with her while she began to work on breakfast, one of the perks to having a wife, I guessed. "You sure that's all you want?"

"Positive."

After breakfast was finished, she made our plates and sat down, but I stayed where I was, watching her for a while, watching her fall into her own little world. The way I'd catch her looking at me sometimes made it obvious that she wanted me. That she felt something for me. When she got lost in her mind, I knew what she'd be thinking because I was always thinking the same thing. While I was conflicted on every other aspect of my feelings and thoughts toward Bella, my sexual attraction for her was clear, and I made no show of trying to hide it. I was going to have sex with her whether she wanted me to or not.

That was my reason for trying to make this work, for trying to make her extra happy. Sex. It was all I wanted from her. That was mandatory if she was going to continue living in my home, spending my money.

I snapped my fingers in front of her face to bring her back, and she scowled. "What?"

"Where were you just now?" I questioned, smirking.

She answered, "Jail. For murdering you. I was trying to decide if it would be worth it."

Bella had a wonderful personality, a great sense of humor. That made things much easier for me. A boring fuck was a worthless fuck, in my opinion. I imagined her being very vocal and outgoing in bed.

"And?"

"It was." She shrugged. I rolled my eyes and grabbed my plate, sitting across from me. She chuckled. "No, I was just thinking about how nice these past few days have been. I'm glad—well, not glad, per se; I'm still not especially happy about our situation—but fine, I guess, with the fact we could make things work," she explained.

"Me too," I replied automatically. It was true; I was. It made us getting together easier. I grinned then and stood up, heading over to the refrigerator to grab a Target bag I'd placed up there for her, handing it to her when I sat back down. "Happy Birthday, Bella."

Today was September 13, 2012. Nineteen years ago on this day, my "wife" was born. I tried to make this day special for her, her last day as a teen, but she was adamant on not having a party, so I gave up on trying to get her permission for a party and just threw her a party.

Bella groaned and shook her head, narrowing her eyes a bit. "I told you not to remind me. I told you to not even say that to me." She scowled at me.

"Birthdays are important to my family and me, Bella. Especially to me. I was never sure if the next one was my last," I said, and her scowl deepened.

Ever since I'd let her in on a part of my past, I tended it to use it in my favor. Bella…Bella was gullible, and she was easily guilt-tripped. Thinking about it always left a bad taste in my mouth, but anything to get my way.

"First, stop doing that. You know I hate. You can't just…do that," she said, serious. "Second…fine. You win, again. Thank you, Edward."

She mustered up a big, fake smile and took her gift.

"You're welcome, Bella. It's not every day a person turns nineteen, you know."

"Technically, it is."

"You know what I meant." Smartass.

"Sure." She shrugged. She looked through her bag, and I smiled a little as her own small smile covered her face. "I'm touched…"

"Not yet," I mumbled under my breath, but she would be soon if I had my way."

"What was that?" Bella asked, blushing before I could even tell her.

"Nothing. I have to go to work. You just relax and have a good day," I told her, smiling sweetly. "When I get home, we're going out to dinner. We're going to celebrate properly."

"Edward." Her voice was a warning and full of suspicion.

I responded, "Bella." I gave her a nod, acknowledging her, before walking out.

"You better not have done what I think you've done, Edward Cullen!" she yelled after me.

I chuckled and left for work.

~MOB~

I sighed heavily as James walked pass my office, stopping outside the door to speak with my assistant, Kate, for a moment before coming in.

"Edward." He nodded in greeting.

"James."

He sat down in front of my desk, and I couldn't quite control the sigh that left me. It wasn't the fact that the man was a grade A asshole that pissed me off about him. It was how he got work done and what made me damn lucky to have him working for me. It was the fact that he was always around, always being a fucking creeper, and just…the way he looked at people—at me—sometimes was weird as hell.

"I wanted to talk to you," he said.

I leaned back in my chair and nodded. "I can see that. What is it that you need?"

"You look just like your dad right now." James smirked at me and leaned forward a bit, resting his chin on his closed fist. "Wow. The resemblance is uncanny. It's a little…déjà vu feeling for me, right now."

James was about twenty years my junior, had been working here for as long as I could remember, and was made senior partner by my dad. I was in my dad's office, nothing had been changed, and I did look like him, so I could understand why it felt a little weird for him.

"Uh, yeah," I mumbled, not really sure what to say.

He smiled. "He'd be proud."

"Thanks," I said, ready to move on. "So, you wanted to talk about something…"

"Right, right," he replied, laughing. "I wanted to take the Jefferson case."

I leaned forward in surprise, an eyebrow rising. "Really? You want to take the Jefferson case?"

James nodded. "Yes, yes I do."

"Tim is on that case."

"I know, but I—forgive my language—feel like Tim is going to fuck this up. I mean, don't get me wrong, he's an amazing lawyer; he wouldn't be partner if he wasn't a good lawyer, but he doesn't know how to handle this one, Edward," he said seriously, leaning forward even more until his hands were resting on my desk. "I've got all these notes and…"

"You have all these notes and…what? You want me to just drop this guy because you have a feeling he's going to mess up?" I asked him in disbelief. I respected the man, but he was ridiculous. "I'm sorry, but since when do I run this company on your feelings? I wasn't aware that that was how we worked here."

James nodded. "I know, I didn't mean to imply that, but I just…can we get together later?" There must have been "what in the fuck" written all over my face because he quickly moved on. "I just mean to go over my notes. I honestly think I just worked out how to win this case, and I need you to look it over before it's too late."

I sighed heavily, scrubbing my face with my hands for a moment. He looked so sincere, so fucking pitiful and nervous, that I found myself nodding. "Okay. The next court hearing is next week, so sometime before then we'll get together over dinner or something and go over what you have. With Tim," I added.

"Tonight?" he asked.

I shook my head. "It's my wife's birthday, so no. I'll see what I can do for tomorrow night."

Something in his face changed then, and he stood up abruptly, giving me a curt nod. "Your wife, of course. Birthdays are important. I'd hate to be the one to keep you away on such a day."

"She'd probably love that, actually," I joked, chuckling.

He looked confused. "Um…"

"Mr. Cullen, I need to speak with you." I looked past him to see my assistant Kate. She smiled. "It's urgent."

"I see," James said, nodding. "Excuse me. Thank you for your time, Mr. Cullen. I appreciate it."

"No problem."

He left and Kate walked in, side-stepping him as she wasn't his biggest fan, either.

"Edward." She leaned against my desk and narrowed her eyes. "Edward, you jackass, I honestly can't believe you."

I decided to play dumb. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, yeah, play the dumb card, Edward. I'm sure your wife will love that once I talk to her!"

I glared. "Kate…"

"Don't 'Kate' me, you asshole. How could you do that to my sister?" she asked. "I thought you liked her."

I sighed heavily and scrubbed at my face once again. "I do like her. I like Tanya, but not in the way that everyone wants me to, Kate. She understands that."

Elezar and Carmen Denali were great friends of Carlisle and Esme. About three years ago, Elezar's daughter of another marriage came down to Seattle from Russia to live with him and his new wife, Carmen.

"Are you sure about that? Because…"

"We're still fucking," I said over her words, shutting her up immediately. "So, yeah, I'm sure about that."

Shortly after the first time my mother set us up, Tanya and I continued to see each other, occasionally going out on dates, but mostly just fooling around. Like me, she wasn't looking for anything serious. She just liked to have a good time, and I was all for that.

Kate gave me a look of confusion. "What?"

"We're still seeing each other," I explained slowly.

She rolled her eyes. "I got that, smartass, but I thought you were married?"

"Not that I have to explain anything to you, but we have an open marriage," I said, and her eyes widened. "You can being seeing your way out now, Kate." I liked her, but she had a tendency to think she was right all the damn time and that got annoying. "And if you want to keep this job, don't you ever, and I mean ever, try to confront me with something like at work again."

She nodded, slowly walking backward to make her exit. "Yes, Sir. Sorry, Mr. Cullen, it won't happen again."

"You need to get home," Emmett said when I answered in way of greeting. I'd been in the middle of looking over a case file when he called. "Now. I think Bella needs you right now."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, hello to you, too, Emmett. Anyway, what does she need me for? I'm at work, and I can't leave right now."

Irina looked up at me from under my desk, grinned, and then continued what she was doing. I, barely, stifled a groan and tightened my hand in her hair, setting a slower pace and pushing my hard member deeper into her mouth. She was being too sloppy for my liking.

"This whole arrangement has been bothering her more than she's been letting on, apparently. She's freaking the fuck out right now, man, and we can't get her to come out her room to calm her down," Emmett told me, sounding uncharacteristically frustrated. "Fuck work and come home now. We don't know what to do."

"And I do?" I questioned between gritted teeth, my breathing picking up slightly.

Emmett sighed. "You may have better luck than us."

"How?" This confused me. He knew our situation. He should have known I would have had just as much luck as they were having. Irina moved my hand away from her head then and began to do it on her own, understanding then how I liked it, and moaned around my cock, which caused me to groan. "I'll get home soon, you guys can go home now," I managed to get out. "But fuck, Emm, I gotta go, man."

"What are you doing?" he asked, suspicion coloring his voice.

I hung up without another word, as I wasn't able to control the moan that left me, then. Irina took me as far in her throat as she could, moaned, and swallowed repeatedly as I came.

"Shit," I mumbled as I came down from my post-orgasm high, breathing slowly. "Once you corrected yourself that was actually really good."

I heard Irina chuckle and looked down to see her fixing herself up before crawling out from under my desk. "Of course it was." She grinned and before I had time to register her movements, her lips were on mine, and she was trying to shove her tongue down my throat.

I froze in shock for a moment, having never expected that to happen, before pushing her away, probably a bit too roughly by the look on her face. "What in the fuck was that?" I hissed, wiping my lips off with my arm as if that would change what had just happened. "We don't kiss. Ever."

"But I thought…" She trailed off and began to back away slowly, eyes wide.

Irina was scared of me, and she should be.

I placed my hands in my hair and squeezed tightly, closing my eyes. I took deep, calming breaths to still my body, which was shaking almost violently in rage. Kissing went against my rules of hooking up. To me, it was too much of an intimate act; I didn't want intimate. Kissing was the number one thing to not do, and she knew that—catching me by surprise with it wasn't helping the situation, either.

"You thought wrong," I snapped through clenched teeth.

"Kissing isn't something you want to do, Edward," Dad said after catching me making out with the next-door neighbor in the backyard. "Have all the sex you want, see if I care, but don't you ever kiss. Kissing is what a lover does; you're a man. Men aren't lovers."

In reality, I knew it wasn't really Irina that I was upset with. It was myself. It was Bella.

The last person I kissed, willingly, with everything I had , was Bella. And I liked it. Had we not been interrupted, I'm sure we would have gone much further than just a kiss. It was with that kiss that I began to rethink everything.

"You should go before Kate gets back from lunch," I mumbled, taking another deep breath to make sure I was calmed completely. "I don't need her trying to tear my head off again by finding out about us."

Though she still looked a little frightened, Irina cracked a smirk and chuckled quietly. "You should probably worry more about what Tanya's going to do when she finds out."

I nodded. That much I knew. Sleeping with a married man whose wife didn't mind because they were in an open relationship was one thing; sleeping with a man that was also sleeping with your sister was another thing entirely, and I knew the first night Irina and I were together that she wouldn't like it.

"Yeah."

Irina took that as her cue to leave. "Well, I have to get back to work. Call me again sometime, Edward. Anytime," she stressed it. "And I'm sorry. I won't do that again."

"I know," I said.

She left, and a few minutes later, Kate was back, none the wiser to what had just went on. I sat back in my seat and spun around to stare out the window, losing myself in my thoughts. After a few minutes, I made the decision that I would call Irina again. Despite what had happened just moments ago, I liked her well enough.

I also decided that I'd had enough of Bella. Had enough of her in the sense that I wouldn't stress myself out anymore. I would stop questioning everything I did. I paid good money for her; she'd do her job and that would be that.

By the time I got home from work, I had fifteen text messages and five missed calls, all from Emmett, Rosalie, and Cynthia. They all thought I'd been home already and were worried about Bella, wanted to know exactly what was going on with her.

I actually started to feel bad for not being here sooner, as things seemed to be more serious than I'd thought.

This was confirmed when I walked in to my living room and saw Bella sitting at the mini bar, my liquor cabinet broken in to, shattered glass covering the floor. When she saw me, she grinned, and I sighed.

"You're drunk," I stated the obvious.

She snorted.

I wasn't sure I liked her this way. "Bella, this isn't funny."

She was slouched against the wall, random giggles leaving her every now and then. The grin on her face was big and happy, but her eyes, usually so full of life and a fiery spark that I couldn't deny liking, wasn't there. Her eyes killed the smile covering her face.

No, I didn't like her this way at all.

"Isabella!" I yelled in surprise, watching as she fell off the barstool and onto the ground.

She frowned, but then she looked up at me and began to laugh hysterically, covering her mouth with her hands as she did so.

"This isn't funny," I said again, slowly becoming annoyed with her drunken antics.

She fell into another fit of giggles and asked, "Not even a little bit? I think it is. Just a little, Eddie."

"Don't call me that." I scowled. I never liked that name.

She snickered. "Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Edd—"

I huffed in annoyance and picked her up off the ground. I put her back on the stool, but then I knew she'd end up falling again eventually, so I put her on the couch instead. She shouldn't be able to fall off of that.

"Eddie." She giggled.

I rolled my eyes and squatted down in front of her, giving her what I hoped to be a serious, no nonsense look. "What happened?"

She didn't say anything for a while, looking past me as she thought. When she looked back at me, she murmured, "Well, um…wow, your eyes are pretty."

I sighed. "Emmett called me and told me some of what happened. Can you tell me what caused this?"

I wasn't really sure I wanted to know. The more I thought about it, the more what Rosalie and I had talked about that day she went and met Charlie Swan for me began to make sense.

For some reason, I hoped that wasn't the case. I hoped that I was just making something out of nothing, and Bella was just drinking to celebrate.

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

Her question took me off guard, and I frowned. "Bella…"

"Well, do you?" she asked, clearly becoming impatient by look on her face. She slid off the couch, then, and sat in front of me. "I find you very handsome, Edward. More handsome, than, say, Robert Pattinson."

I opened my mouth to ask her whom the hell she was talking about, and to get back to the topic at hand, but before I could, she pulled me in for a kiss. I gasped in surprise pushed at her to move her away from me, but she stayed firm. I could have moved her if I wanted to, but I didn't.

I kissed her back, unable to resist the pretty, drunk girl that was throwing herself at me, and only stopped because we needed to breathe. After we pulled away from each other, she pushed on my shoulders until I relented and lay back, straddling my hips quickly.

My breathing picked up slightly, and I had to work hard to keep myself from groaning out loud. I was getting turned on just from the thought of fucking her. Her being so ready and willing was making things even better for me.

"Have sex with me, Eddie," she murmured seductively.

Before she could kiss me again like she was planning to, I turned us over quickly and kissed her hard, rubbing my erection against her as she wrapped her legs loosely around my hips. She groaned into our kiss and tangled her hands tightly into my hair, pulling me even closer.

We kept that going for a short while, kissing each other roughly and dry humping to our heart's content. Just as things were starting to really heat up, I started to think of my mother of all people. The way he used her. And then I started thinking of all the other girls and women I'd been with, and I started to feel sick.

I could remember clearly then how they'd react when it was all over. How they'd keep coming back. How my mother would keep going back to him no matter what he did for her.

How eventually they all ended up begging for me in the end.

I was definitely going to be sick.

"We can't do this," I announced after abruptly pulling away. We couldn't.

She sat up, legs spread, lips red and swollen, and panting heavily. She was pouting as well, obviously trying way too hard to be cute, but that made it even cuter to me. "Why not?"

"Because we can't," I said.

She whined, "But it's my birthday. This is what I get for my birthday."

"Her birthdays…her birthdays are very special to her," Chief Swan had said on one of our many phone calls. "She never asks for much, but I always try to give her everything she wants and then some."

I really was going to be sick.

I nodded slowly. "I know what you get for your birthday, Bella."

She began to shake her head, and I knew she was figuring out where I was going with this.

"I need to know what's happened," I said quietly. When she didn't answer me, I continued with, "I think we should talk about your dad…"

Even though this whole time I thought I was going to be sick, still felt like I was going to be sick, it was Bella who actually became sick, throwing up all over herself and the floor before passing out.

I blanched. The smell hit my nose immediately, and I gagged a few times, but I eventually got myself together and in gear. I picked her up and walked her upstairs, keeping my nose from as far away from her and the smell as was possible.

When I got to her bathroom, I sat her down on the bathroom counter, as she was now lucid enough now to keep herself up, and stripped down to my boxers so my clothes wouldn't get wet when I put her in the shower.

"Edward, I'm sorry," I heard her mumble as I checked to see if the water was hot enough.

I turned around to see her staring at me—or through me rather—as she wiped at the throw up on her shirt.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," I replied, walking over to her. With a sigh, I began to unbutton her top, glad she'd stayed in her pajamas like she'd said, and that the shirt was a button up.

She nodded. "I ruined our moment."

No truer statement had ever been spoken, and no erection had never died faster, that much was for sure, but I didn't blame her for it.

"It's okay."

Bella opened her mouth to protest, but I hushed her and finished removing the last of her clothes before stepping in to the shower with her.

"Wash my hair when you're done," she whispered, leaning against me more out of want than necessity. She was still drunk as all hell, and I knew I'd have a lot of alcohol to replace, but she was sobered up enough.

I nodded, and I washed her until the smell was gone. When that was done, I began to work on hair, combing my fingers through thick locks lightly for a moment before wetting it and then lathering it up with soap.

It was another thing I liked about Bella—her hair. It was long and thick, a deep, chocolate brown that reminded me of her eyes, and when the light hit it just right, revealed a hint of mahogany.

"Mmm," was her softly moaned response as I scratched her scalp lightly. "Rinse," she commanded.

I rolled my eyes and did as she told me to, rinsing her hair thoroughly. "I don't wash hair for free," I told her seriously.

I was in the shower, and I had an extremely beautiful woman with an amazing body pressed against me, now clean and sorry for cutting our "moment" short. If I didn't work this moment to my advantage, I'd be a very stupid man.

"Of course not," she mumbled, and though I couldn't see her, I knew she was rolling her eyes.

She hadn't said anything against it, so I took that as my cue to move ahead. When I was finished with her hair, I let it fall down her back and placed my hands on her shoulders. Her breathing began to pick up immediately.

I wanted her now. This wasn't my intention at all when I brought her to the shower. I was just going to clean her up, put her in bed, and then call it a night, but I couldn't help myself. I was a man, and she was the most perfect creature I'd ever laid eyes on. I could admit that. Not even Rosalie was able to touch her beauty. I was convinced no woman would be able to mimic this body that, in that moment, was made specifically for me.

I leaned down to whisper sweetly in her ear, answering her question from earlier, "Yes, Bella, I think you're very pretty."

Her breathing hitched, and I smirked.

"Do you want this?" I asked her quietly, my mouth still leveled with her ear.

I knew this was wrong. Of course I did. I'd come to that conclusion earlier. I didn't do things like this; take advantage of damaged girls this way…

But right as I was deciding to postpone this for another day, she pressed hard against my erection and nodded once—firmly. "Yes."

That was enough for me.

I slowly ran my hands down her arms and then placed them back on her sides, sliding them back up until I was cupping a breast in each hand. "These are perfect."

I lightly brushed my thumbs across her hardened nipples, and the accompanying moan that came from her with the action was sweet and low and continued to come as I kept up the motion. Her back arched slightly, pushing her breasts further into my hands, and I circled my thumbs around her nipples once more before finally continuing my descent down her sides and to her hips.

I pulled her closer to me to the point where we couldn't possibly any closer, my cock placed firmly between her ass. She gasped and wiggled her hips a bit, and I groaned, stilling her.

"Not time for that yet," I told her. She nodded. I wanted to take my time with her, get her good and ready before I fucked her into oblivion.

I held firmly on to her hip with one hand, while the other snaked between her legs, gently cupping her sex. Bella stiffened, but she quickly began to relax as I ran my middle finger through her wet slit and softly thumbed her clit.

"Edward," she murmured, placing her hand on mine to keep it still.

"Hmm?"

She whispered, "Stop teasing me."

I chuckled and gave her what she wanted, slipping two fingers in her easily. I moved my fingers in and out of her at a relatively slow pace, lightly brushing my thumb over her clit. Her hips moved in tune with what I was doing, pushing in to my thumb and rocking with my fingers, and we gradually began to pick up speed until she was panting heavily and clenching tightly around my fingers.

"Are you close?" I asked quietly in her ear, already knowing she was. I just wanted to hear it from her.

She gave no sign that she heard me speak. Instead, she placed her hands on both sides of her—holding on to the shower walls for support—and stopped moving, stiffening up slightly against me. I was curious as to why, but I didn't stop what I was doing.

"I-I don't…I can't do this," she mumbled out so low that I almost didn't hear her. But I did, and I wished I hadn't. "C-can't do this. No."

"No means nothing—nothing."

I ignored her, pretended to not hear her, and kept up what I was doing. She tensed up further, but I was determined to keep going, to bring her back to where she was just seconds ago.

"Stop," she stressed, her breathing still heavy, heavier, but not out of pleasure then. No, I knew this type of breathing well. She was panicking.

I didn't stop, though. I couldn't. I'd already started and this was what I wanted—she was what I wanted, and I had her, and I'd keep her. Instead, I picked up the pace even more, fucking her harder with my fingers, I guessed to the point of pain if her whimpers were any indication, but I still didn't stop. I was too lost in the haze of getting my way.

"Edward, stop. Please," she begged. She was crying.

I froze. When the hell had she started crying? I thought to myself. I wasn't sure. I was only paying attention to myself, but she had it now. I pulled my fingers out, shut off the water, and turned her to face me. I wasn't really surprised when she refused to look at me.

"Bella…"

She was sobbing uncontrollably then, and I didn't know what to do to make her stop.

"Bella, please look at me?"

She shook her head fervently, and her sobs got louder, her body shaking violently from the intensity of her cries.

I stepped out of the shower and rested her on the counter, then, leaving her there to sit while I dried off and pulled my clothes back on. She hadn't stopped crying during that time, but she had begun to mumble "I'm sorry" over and over.

"Bella, you're going to send yourself in to a panic attack. Hush now and calm down," I said as I started to dry her off. It was a moot point telling her this, as she was already in the middle of one. I knew what they were like, how hard it was to calm yourself down, but that didn't stop from slamming my hands down harshly on the counter in frustration, causing her to jump and look up at me. "Stop crying and make yourself breath, Goddamnit!"

Her eyes were wide, and she looked terrified, but she'd stopped crying and her breathing was slowly returning to normal. I'd scared her into a panic attack and then scared her out. I was on a fucking roll.

"Go get some clothes on," I told her, irritated beyond belief at myself.

Bella nodded, and she left, while I sat leaned against the counter and scrubbed at my face with my hands, trying to come to terms with what I almost did—what I did. I'd never done anything like that before. Ever. That was one thing I'd promised myself I wouldn't do; I wouldn't rape a girl just for my benefit.

But I basically just had. I molested the poor girl in her own shower.

"Oh, God," I mumbled, the seriousness of what I'd done crashing over me in waves, an emotion I'd never felt before setting in.

Guilt. I felt guilty and ashamed; I felt disgusting. There was a fine line between reluctance and then finally giving in and flat out molestation and I'd just crossed it.

With Bella of all people.

After talking myself out of my own panic attack, something I'd learned to do over the years, I walked out the bathroom, only to find Bella curled up in her bed, crying again, but lightly this time.

"I'm going to bring you some aspirin or something. I'll be back," I mumbled out.

She didn't bother with a response, and I left for my own bathroom. I rummaged around in my medicine cabinet for a minute before finding my Tylenol. After running to the kitchen to get her a glass of water, I went back to her room and sat on the edge of the bed in front of her.

"Sit up."

She did so quickly and without complaint. "I bet your mother would be so proud of you." It was weak and barely audible, but her voice was laced with sarcasm. The tears were gone, and she was angry now.

I didn't say anything to that. It was true, my mother wouldn't be proud of me, she actually hasn't been in a long time, but I wouldn't be the one to admit it. "Take this."

"No."

I sighed. "Bella, take the pill. I'm hoping it'll ease some of the pain tomorrow morning. It's only this one. I can't give you more because of the alcohol." I shouldn't even be trying to give her this, but I wanted to help in some way.

"No," she repeated.

I huffed. "Look, Bella, just take the fucking pill and then go to sleep, all right? I'm not leaving until you do." It was the only way I felt I could help her after what I'd just done, ease whatever pain I could, and she was refusing it.

The way she was looking at me didn't sit well with me, either.

She hadn't looked at me since that first day we met.

"Fine."

"Fine," I repeated with a roll of my eyes, handing her the glass of water and the aspirin.

She took them and downed them both immediately, handing me back the glass before lying back down, turning her back to me. "You can leave now."

"Bella…"

"Thank you for my birthday present, Edward. It was perfect," she mumbled. She didn't sound angry anymore, just…done—accepting.

Her words hurt me more than they should have, and I didn't know why.

"Goodnight, Bella," I muttered as I walked out.

Back at the office, things had been so simple. I had everything figured out, it was all fine, and now…Now, I didn't know anymore, and after that shower…

I wanted to call Rosalie. I wanted to call Esme and Cynthia. I needed to talk to the three women that meant the most to me in this world. The three women that I knew I could talk to about anything and not get looked down on. It was rare of me to ask for help, and when I did I usually went to Carlisle, but at that moment I needed them…

And then I remembered I couldn't call them; I couldn't talk to them about this.

If there was one thing they wouldn't accept and wouldn't keep quiet about, even if it would protect me, it was this.

I'd fucked things up; I just hoped like hell Bella didn't remember any of it in the morning.