Chapter 14

When my time comes, forget the wrong that I've done…

BPOV

I didn't know how Edward did it. He came to bed with me last night, but yet managed to already have breakfasted ordered for the morning. I didn't know how he did it, but it dazzled me.

I slid into a chair and took a sip of my coffee, the warm liquid rushing over me. Edward was still sleeping, and I didn't want to wake him so early, so I made myself at home with the spectacular breakfast he had arranged for us. There were bagels, muffins, eggs, bacon, sausage; anything I could want, even a handful of different newspapers from around the area. I glanced at the headlines, and that's when I saw it. It startled me so much I spat out my coffee.

"Mob Hit Gone Wrong"

"Around seven pm last night, a member of the infamous Cullen family was found shot outside his home. He was murdered in front of his wife and children who witnessed a mask gunman approach the slain gangster and shot numerous times at point blank range in the upper body area. The slain gangster is said to be Tony Morano, a close friend and employee of Edward Cullen, the reported underboss for the Cullen family. Phone calls to representatives of the Cullens were not returned at press time."

I dropped the paper, letting it slide right into the oatmeal. Underboss? Gangster? Shooting? What? This had to be a joke, a colossal joke, a joke to teach me a lesson about asking so many questions. It couldn't be true, not my Edward, not the person who carried me in last night, not the person who whispers sweet nothings in my ear while we are in front of his friends, no, not my Edward. They must have the wrong person, a case of mistaken identity.

I suddenly found myself in a panic attack, gasping for breath, gripping my chest. I felt like my chest was caving in, every bone in my body was being crushed, the weight of the world being pressed upon me like an anvil. I collapsed on the floor, gripping my knees to my chest, letting the tears fall on my exposed skin. Everything made sense now, the money, the friends, the businesses, the vague answers, everything, it all made sense. He was a gangster, a mobster, a modern day Tony Soprano.

"Bells, are you okay?" I felt his hands slide underneath my arms, attempting to lift me up, but my body would not move. It was not malleable, I felt like stone, a cold stone. "No, I'm not okay." I crept away from him, regaining strength in my emotionally racked body. I lifted myself up, standing behind the chair, looking at him intently.

He didn't look like a gangster, he looked…normal. Sure, he had dark features, dark eyes and dark hair, and a few scars here and there, but nothing that said 'Hey look at me, I kill people for a living'. He dressed impeccably, but so did his brother, who was probably also in the mob.

"Bells, what's wrong?" Edward advanced towards me in an attempt to comfort me.

"This is what's wrong." I spat out, grabbing the paper, slinging oatmeal all over the floor. "How could you not tell me? How could you?" My volume increased with every word, and at the end, I was practically screaming. I lunged at him. "How could you not mention that? Did it slip your mind, that minor detail about you being a criminal? Huh? Any defense for yourself, you liar!" I shoved him hard in the shoulders, forcing him against the wall, defenseless to my verbal assault.

His face looked stunned, shocked even as he scanned the paper and me all at the same time. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself? Huh? Anything at all or just more lies?" I crossed my arms at my chest and closed my lips in a tight line. It was minutes before he said anything.

He ran his hands over his face, rubbing his temples. He shoved past me, making his way to the table, reclaiming the seat that had been mine.

How did we get here, I used to know you so well…

"Bells, Bella, what do you want me to say? That everything you said was true, that everything the paper said was true? What do you want to hear?" his voice was soft, pensive as he stared at me with those dark, dark eyes.

I swallowed hard; I didn't even know what I wanted to hear. Did I want to hear that it was true or that it wasn't true? Did it even matter, would it even make a difference to me? I hadn't determined whether I cared or not that his career choice just happened to be illegal, or that he possibly could have killed people at one time or another, I hadn't thought about whether that mattered to me or not.

"So, what do you want? Do you want to hear that it's true or that it's a conspiracy? What do you want from me?" His voice was dark. He was standing now, his arms crossed at his chest, he was rocking back and forth on his heels.

"I don't know." Suddenly, all of my assertiveness was lost and I was frightened of this man that stood before me. "I don't know what I want to hear."

"Ha! You throw around accusations and then you don't know what you want to hear? That's fucking bullshit, Bella, and you know it. You can't throw that in my face and then expect nothing to come from it." Edward was now standing in front of me, his hands positioned on the wall, framing my body.

"I want the truth. I want to know the truth." I stood up straight, attempting to match his 6'2" frame. I knew I wanted to know ultimately what the truth was, and I was prepared for any answer that he might give me. I just wanted to know.

"The truth, you want the truth…" His voice trailed off as he walked away.