BPOV
"Thank you for this," I tell Seth as I usher him inside and take the small bag from him.
"How is he?" he asks as he comes inside and follows me to the kitchen.
"Better, I think," I report as I set the bag down and refill the kettle. "He's in the shower."
"He'll take a little while to perk up," he warns before nodding when I ask if he wants coffee. "He's usually a bit sluggish for half a day or so after. Doesn't eat much and what he does eat needs to be pretty plain. Pasta, bread, rice a few vegies."
I slide his mug across the counter and take up my own. "I'll need to shop then if he's going to stay here for a bit," I say, trying to keep the hope out of my voice.
"Is he going to stay here for a bit?" he asks and I shrug, not knowing the answer yet. "Don't take this personally but I'd rather, if the two of you are going to stay together, that you come to his place rather than staying here."
"I don't know what he wants yet," I tell him truthfully. I wasn't offended at his comment. I understood that it was easier for Seth to protect him in familiar surroundings at Edward's house than it was to do it here. "We didn't get to talk about me needing a full time bodyguard last night," I remind him.
"No, we didn't. Got a bit sidetracked," he chuckled.
"Yeah a bit," I huff. "Can you tell me why?"
He looks down the hall, in the direction of the sound of the running water, and then back to me. "How longs he been in there?" he asks and I tell him he only started the shower ten seconds before the knock at my door. "I'll keep it quick," he tells me.
"I understand if you want to talk to him about it first," I say.
"I told you before, your safety is your business," he says firmly. "I would tell you if there was a specific threat to you physically, but there isn't. Or at least there isn't one I've heard about or seen any evidence of.
"But to the boss there is. There always is," he sighs. ""He's threatened continually, Bella. Because of who he is, what he does and who he sells what he makes to. It makes him a target. That makes you a target too, not because anyone wants to hurt you, but because you could be hurt in any attempt that's made to hurt him. That's what my team and I are guarding you against."
"Someone would try and hurt him because he sells steel?" I ask, eyebrows raised.
"Sounds stupid, doesn't it?" he asked and I agreed that it did. "The industry looks very white collar from a distance," he says before taking a swig from his mug. "Well educated, wealthy guys in suits using blue collar workers to pull minerals from the ground doesn't sound very cut throat, but it is. The more money involved the hairier it gets.
"It's not the big wigs themselves I have to worry about though. They are exactly what they seem to be, just rich guys in suits trying to get richer. It's the environmental nutjobs that I have to worry about. And the extortionists. And the kidnappers. The whacko's with an axe to grind over getting fired for being shit at their jobs who think that taking a pot shot at the boss will make them sleep better at night."
"They shoot at him?" I wail before covering my mouth with my hand.
"They try," he admits. "That's why he hired me in the first place actually. Eight years ago he was shot at as he was getting out of his car at the office. Different building back then though. He bought the new building soon after, mainly because of the underground parking garage.
"He's never been hurt on my watch," he says proudly before tapping his knuckles on my counter, "knock on wood he never does."
"Have you?" I ask hesitantly. I was shocked at what I'd just been told and wanted, no, I needed to know exactly what I was up against.
He eyes me carefully before nodding. "Two years ago," he whispers as we hear the water shut off and the squeak of my shower door opening. "We were at the public opening of a new factory. There wasn't room to set up a stage or anything so we just had him stand in front of the crowd. They surged forwards unexpectedly. I got him behind me no problem but I got crushed between him and a steel barrier in front. Broke two ribs and punctured a lung," he grimaces.
"Jesus Christ," is all I can say.
"It's what he pays me for," he shrugs, his features settling back into the confident, in control Seth I knew. "And it's what he's paying for Jared and Tyler, and me too, to do for you."
"I'm paying for Jared and Tyler though," I reply.
He looks uneasy then. He leans forward and motions to me with his finger so I do the same. "It's your money so you have a right to know about that too," he whispers. "It's going into trust, what you're paying. Edward's paying Jared and Tyler and putting your money aside so he can give it back to you later."
"Cheeky bastard," I whistle as I stand up straight again.
"Kinda sweet though, right?" he asks, eyebrows raised hopefully.
"Yeah, kinda sweet," I mumble.
"What's sweet?" Edward asks as he comes into the kitchen.
He's fucking glorious with his suit pants hanging low on his hips without his belt, his chest bare and a towel hanging around his shoulders.
"You are with your pink towel there, kid," Seth laughs, covering perfectly.
"Real men aren't afraid of pink," Edward chuckles as he moves towards Seth, hand outstretched. "Thanks for last night," he says firmly as they shake.
"All in a day's work, boss," Seth says with a wink. "I've brought you some clothes and a few toiletries if you want to shave," he says, lifting the bag off the floor.
"I do, thanks," he says as he takes up the bag himself. "I won't be long," he tells us both and goes back down the hall.
"Thanks for the coffee," Seth tells me as he hands me the mug. "I've got a few errands to run but Jared is downstairs if you need to go anywhere. If he needs to go anywhere," he says, nodding towards the hall, "call me and I'll come collect him if you're travelling separately."
I tell him a sincere thank you and lock the door behind him.
I put the mugs into the dishwasher and reboil the kettle for Edward's tea and then I go back to my bedroom. His bag is open on my bed, his clothing from the night before lying next to it. I scoop them up, as well as the towels and face cloths I'd used during the night and take them to the small laundry room that's hidden in the hall closet.
I set his clothes to wash and fill the basin with warm water to soak the towels and then I go back and make the bed. I can hear the electric razor humming away in my bathroom and have to smile. It's so nice to have him in my home. It's so nice to know that he's slept in my bed.
Now I just had to hope that he didn't want to leave yet, or that if he did he asked me to go with him.
EPOV
I hide in the bathroom as long as I can reasonably expect them to believe I'm shaving. But my time's up.
I look at myself in the mirror and see the mess and strain of the night before. One black eye, the other red rimmed and tired looking. My bottom lip split and a grim set to my lips.
I check the time on my watch and know that my dad would be arriving any minute on his way past for work. Once the check up was complete, and that wouldn't take long, he'd leave and then it would be just Isabella, Seth and I. He'd take my bag for me, say his goodbyes to her and leave us alone for just a moment to say our own goodbyes. Probably our last.
She'd avoided talking to me about anything other than business or my health so far so I knew she was not keen to discuss 'us'. She'd taken wonderful care of me, though I loathed that she'd had to, and she'd been sympathetic and understanding about my condition. But that didn't equate to accepting and I knew it.
I hear her in the bedroom and take one last look at myself in the mirror before taking my wet pack and joining her there.
"Where are my clothes?" I ask as I look at the bed where I'd stashed them.
"In the washer," she says from across the room by the table where she's gathering papers.
"You're washing my clothes?"
"You'd been sick on your shirt," she says quietly.
"Christ," I mutter. "I'm so sorry."
"You say that a lot," she replies quietly.
"I mean it a lot."
"I know you do," she sighs.
"Listen, I think we should..." I start to say but I'm interrupted by the chiming of her doorbell.
"That'll be your dad," she says hurriedly before rushing past me and going down the hall.
"That'll be my dad," I mumble as I throw my wet pack into my bag and zip it up violently.
I slide on my cufflinks and adjust my cuffs, the sound of soft voices floating down the hallway as I prepare myself. I slip on my shoes, feed my belt through the loops on my suit pants and then slip into my jacket. I leave my tie hanging untied and loose around my neck knowing dad was going to want to listen to my chest and then I slip my wallet and keys back into my pockets.
I take my bag with me as I leave her bedroom and say a silent goodbye to it and the bed that had been so comfortable the night before.
"Hi dad," I say as I go into the kitchen.
"Good morning, son," he greets me.
"Where's Seth?" I ask, having not seen him in the living room or hall.
"He had some errands to run," Isabella tells me as she slides a mug of tea across the counter for me. "He said to call him if you needed collecting."
That startles me. She didn't say when I needed collecting, she'd said if. I'd been certain he'd be waiting for me. I'd been certain she was just waiting for my father to give me the all clear and she'd want me to go right after.
"How are you feeling this morning?" dad asks, breaking the awkward silence I'd created by not commenting.
"A bit fuzzy," I admit.
"Take a seat," he tells me with a wave of his hand towards the dining room.
Isabella follows as we go into the next room. She leans against the doorframe and watches as my father checks me over.
As predicted he has me open my shirt so he can listen to my heart. He takes my pulse at my wrist and again in my neck. He checks my good eye with his penlight and the swollen one with an ophthalmoscope. He pokes and prods first my lip and then my knuckles.
He asks what I've eaten, what I've had to drink. How long I slept and what my eyesight, headache and lethargy were like when I did wake.
He asks if I've taken any of the anti nausea pills he left for me that I'd had no idea about.
He asks if my headache is still present and how bad it is when I say it's still there.
He pronounces me relatively fit and gives his thanks to Isabella for taking care of me overnight.
I sit there waiting for him to pack up his things with a measurable amount of dread in my head and heart.
I let him pat me on the top of my head like I'm six, I wish him a good day at work and promise to call my mother at some point during the day.
I sit right there, in her dining room, and wait for the death knell to sound on the only significant relationship I'd ever had.
BPOV
I see Carlisle off at the front door and go back into the kitchen to avoid having to go into the dining room.
I wash our mugs by hand, wasting as much time as possible. I wash down and dry the sideboard, the sink, the counter tops though there isn't a mark on any surface. I change the rubbish bag in the bin. I hang a new tea towel on the rail above the oven door. I retrieve a new roll of paper towel from the pantry and slide it onto its pedestal by the stove.
I stop short of sweeping and mopping the floors and when there is nothing left to hold my attention I go back to the dining room.
He's just sitting there, at my table, his hands in his lap and his shoulders slumped with his back to the doorway where I come to stand. I can't see his face and I find myself wishing that I could. Just one last time I wanted to look at him, memorize his features so I could dream about him at night.
"I don't want to leave," he says so softly I think I've imagined it.
My heart begins to race with hope and my tears begin to well.
"If you leave I want to go too," I say quietly and too quickly.
He doesn't turn but I see his shoulders square just a little, as though what I've said has either pleased him or given him confidence.
"I asked you to leave my home yesterday because I didn't want you to see me in throws of a full-blown panic attack. It was cowardly of me, weak and vain to send you away," he says matter of factly.
The relief I feel at his words swamps my body and I feel the first tears begin to fall down my cheeks. But still he doesn't turn to face me and I feel a little braver for being able to say what I want without having to look him in the eye as I do.
"I didn't know," I tell him. "You should've told me."
"I should have, I know. But I couldn't. I didn't want to see the look of disappointment on your face when you found out," he says sadly.
"Why would I be disappointed?"
"Because I'm a fraud," he says forlornly.
"How so?" I ask.
"I'm flawed. Not normal. I puke on myself and my brain shuts down when I lose control of my emotions or situations. You don't deserve that."
"You're so full of shit," I say as evenly as I can.
"That too," he agrees.
"You aren't a fraud," I tell him sternly, "you're afraid."
"That too," he agrees again.
"You're afraid that you aren't perfect. You're afraid that your personal flaws contradict your professional brilliance. You're afraid to truly be yourself because you think that if anyone sees that the two personas don't match they'll think you're a fraud.
"You don't stand up for yourself in the press not because it's taking the higher moral ground not to, but because you're afraid that if you do, and they up the ante, you'll have an attack at the wrong moment and they'll document what you think is a weakness."
"Probably," he whispers.
"You're afraid to call Tanya's bluff because you think she'll spill her guts about you," I accuse sharply.
"Yes," he whimpers, burying his head in his hands.
"So do it yourself," I say matter of factly.
"What?" he asks loudly, his head jerking up quickly as he turned to face me.
"You heard me," I bark. "Call a press conference. Invite anyone who'll turn up with a camera and a recorder and spill your guts. Tell them everything. Panic attacks, self doubt, fear, self consciousness, that you wear glasses, everything. Tell them you hate wearing jeans and that you have a sweet tooth. Tell them you like opera for all I care, but tell them yourself.
"Tell them you get nervous and anxious when confronted. Tell them you always have done and that you've still managed to build and run a successful company. Tell them about the threats on your life. Tell them about the Asia deal, about that company's links to Doctors without Borders. Tell them why the price on the contract was changed. Get it all out there. All of it. On your own terms and in your own language. Do it yourself and everything she and anyone else has on you becomes worthless."
I watched his face as he took in what I'd said. I was ready if he panicked; I knew what to do now. I was ready if he balked; I knew what I'd say. What I wasn't ready for was a request.
"Will you stand beside me while I say it?"
I thought about it a moment before answering as clearly as I could.
"No, I won't," I tell him and before he can respond I move forward, sliding to my knees so I'm looking up at him instead of down as he sits. "You don't need a crutch and if I stand beside you while you make your statement that's what I'll be seen as. I'll be with you, on the sidelines, and I'll be supporting you all the way, but I can't stand beside you while you do it."
He looks disappointed but not unhappy. He cups my jaw with his beautiful hands and kisses me softly, making my heart leap and a little of my own panic subside.
When he pulls away he doesn't go far, just resting his forehead on mine. "I understand, and you're right," he whispers between us. "If you're there they'll just assume I've only found my balls because you've been playing with them," he chuckles.
"Kinda true," I giggle back.
"Yeah, kinda true," he agrees softly. "I have to go to the office, meet with Emmett and get things rolling."
"I know," I agree.
"Did you mean what you said before?" he asks and I have to ask which bit, because I'd said a lot. "You said that if I left you wanted to come too. Did you mean it?"
"Yeah, I meant it," I whisper as I slide my hand into his in his lap.
He closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath that sounds a little relieved. "I don't want to be apart from you. I know it's quick, I know it's probably too soon, but I don't want to be without you anymore," he whispers after a short silence.
"I don't want to be here without you," I say honestly. "Ask me," I beg, hoping he'll catch on to what I mean.
"Stay with me? Indefinitely?" he asks hoarsely. "I'm a pain in the ass. I'm a control freak and I suffer severe anxiety attacks that you'll have to put up with if you stay with me. I work long hours and I get cranky a lot. I'm never truly off the clock, even at home, but every second of time I'm away from you I feel so lost. So every second of time I do get I'll devote it to making you happy. Stay with me, please?"
EPOV
I watch her eyes fill with tears and then hold my breath as they begin to fall down her cheeks.
She's not said a word so I try and sell it a little more. "Seth can protect us more easily at my house. And if we go everywhere together, or almost everywhere, you won't have to pay for both Jared and Tyler, just one or the other because they can switch out with Seth.
"And Mrs Davis would love to have you there too. And I can knock through the wall between two of the guest rooms and make a bigger room for you if you like. And I'll clear out one of the bedrooms upstairs and you can have a study of your own to do your homework and assignments.
"I'll have a rainwater thingy put in your bathroom..." I say but she cuts me off.
"Stop," she whimpers as she swipes at her eyes with the backs of her hands. "I don't want to be a guest," she whispers. "I want to live with you, properly. In your bedroom. In your bed. I want to listen to you snore every night and wake up with your hard on pushing into my back every morning," she giggles adorably.
"I don't snore," I huff, relieved at her words.
"You so do," she counters with a grin. "Ask me again, without selling it to me," she says, "just tell me what you want."
"I want to live with you. Every day and every night," I say honestly. "I think I'm falling in love with you and I don't want to be apart," I say simply.
Those gorgeous chocolate brown eyes get wide as she stares up into mine. "Yes," is all she says.
I kiss her deeply but softly, trying to infuse it with all the emotion I could. I hope she understands when I pull away, unable to go any further than just the kiss.
I'm still a little fuzzy and a lot exhausted from the attack the night before. My hands still shake a little and I doubt that I'd be able to perform, even with Isabella who turns me inside out and usually makes me feel like a teenager again.
"How do you want to do this?" she whispers against my lips when we do separate a little.
"I can't do this," I chuckle, hoping she isn't offended.
"You've changed your mind already?" she shouts as she leaps away.
"No," I tell her loudly and firmly. "I meant I can't do this," I say, pointing to my crotch and then to hers stupidly. "I'm too knackered still," I tell her sadly.
She's giggling then, swatting at my bicep. "I know that," she laughs. "I thought you'd changed your mind about me staying with you already. Fastest relationship ever," she laughs as I stand, doing up the buttons on my shirt as I go.
"Tonight," I tell her with a wink, "when I get home tonight I'll be feeling much better."
"I won't hold you to that," she says quietly. "You've got a big day ahead and Seth told me that you take a while to recover," she says as we both go out of the dining room and back towards the kitchen. "I was asking how you wanted to go about me coming to stay with you."
She fills the kettle and pulls down two clean mugs from an overhead cupboard. I finish doing up my tie and ask for a little more sugar in my tea before pulling out one of the stools under the counter.
"Will you come today?" I ask as she fills both mugs with the boiling water.
"If you want me to," she says as she slides my mug towards me.
"I want you to," I grin. "You can bring enough things for a few days with you today and I'll organise someone to come and collect the rest on Monday maybe?" I offer, not having thought through all the logistics myself yet.
"That'd work for me," she grins back. "It might take me a while to sell this place and even then I doubt I'd have enough to pay you a whole lot."
"Pay me for what?" I ask.
"Nobody lives for free, Edward," she scolds.
I think on that for a bit while I sip my tea. "Don't sell it," I say eventually, looking around at the place. "It's in a good area and you probably chose it because it was close to campus. You could rent it out to another student," I suggest. "That way someone else pays it off for you."
"That's a good idea but it doesn't solve the issue of me being able to pay my way at your house," she says matter of factly.
"Do you owe anything for your tuition?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "No, I used my savings to pay all my tuition for this year already."
"Any other debts, besides this place?" I ask.
She shakes her head again. "No. I have a car but I own it outright, so all I'll still have to cover is the registration and insurance on that, but no. I got a bonus from your mother for pulling the fun fair together so quickly and I used some of that to pay the mortgage here for the next six months, the rest I used to buy textbooks and materials."
"Smart girl," I grin. "You'll still be working part time for Jasper, right?"
"One or two days a week when I don't have classes, yes," she confirms.
"Okay. So if you come and live with me and rent this place out that'll pay the mortgage, that you're already in front of, and you'll still have your income from doing the books at Jasper's. How about you chip in a little for the food bill at my place and we'll call it even?" I ask, even though I'd love nothing more than to cover her bills and anything else she might need. But I was smart enough to know not to offer to do that.
"What about electricity, gas, water and all the other shit?" she asks.
I think on it again, trying to find a way to make her expenses pretty much nil when I hit on an idea. "Seth and Jared will be driving us both from now on so you won't need your car," I say carefully, trying not to sound as though I was organising her whole life for her, even though I really did want to. "You could sell that and the money you saved on registration and insurance you could chip in some of that to cover the other bills."
"How do I pay Jared?" she asks and I'm not quick enough to hide my reaction. "Don't bother spilling your guts," she giggles, "Seth already told me."
"Disloyal bastard," I mutter under my breath. "Look," I say cautiously, "Seth's budget for security is huge, he doles it out as he sees fit. It more than covers having Jared on the books full time for you. I'll return what you've already paid and you can use it to pay next year's tuition."
She eyes me carefully for a moment and I start to think of alternative arguments for why I was right when she smiles. "Deal," she says matter of factly, leaving me stunned. "Now call Seth and get moving or I won't see you again until midnight."
BPOV
He looked stupidly happy with himself as he went into the living room to call Seth. I knew he wanted to just pay for everything for me, I knew how generous he was, and I wasn't opposed to him buying me dinner and flying me to Melbourne every now and then, but living expenses I drew the line at.
I knew he'd only let me pay a pittance of what a house like his cost to run, and I also knew he'd make sure I never saw any of the actual bills so I wouldn't work out that I was paying a whole lot less than what my share should be, but I liked it when he smiled, so I caved.
There was plenty of time to have regular couples fights over money and I was grateful for that. Having time. Time with him. Together and alone whenever we wanted, without having to push past the press at my building. Curled on his new sofa and splashing in that spa bath and the pool.
I must have been grinning about the thought of that when he came back in because he swooped in and kiss me hard. "Gorgeous smile," he whispered against my lips before pulling away. "Seth will be here in a minute and Emmett's already waiting for me at the office. Sorry you're going to be alone for most of today."
"Go and get your shit sorted," I say flippantly with a wave of my hand. "I've got some stuff to pack and a few errands to run."
"Can you text me your father's number at some point today please?" he asks out of the blue.
I eye him carefully, noting the beautiful smile on his lips. "Really?" I ask, not quite believing that he was serious. But he confirms that he is with a firm nod of his head. "Fine," I huff.
"I'll talk with your brother today too, just so you know," he warns, cheeky grin still firmly in place.
"Then I'll talk with your parents," I counter.
"Good, they'll like that," he says, thwarting my revenge plan totally. "I'll let Mrs Davis know that you're coming, Seth already knows and he'll tell Jared and Tyler, so do what you like when you get there. Put your stuff wherever you want, just shove mine aside or whatever you need," he says as pulls out his wallet. "I won't have time to go with you today, so if you want to buy anything for the house just use this," he says, handing me a credit card.
I let him put it in my hand but he knows I'm going to argue so he's all ready with his defence.
"It's a guy's house, Isabella," he says with a sigh. "Black and chrome isn't your thing and to be honest I'm a bit sick of it too. It's so much nicer here, with your colours and patterns," he says waving his hand around the living room. "I want to tell you that I'll go with you, that we'll pick out some things together, but I won't have time for a few days yet and I want you to be comfortable there, sorry."
"You don't have to keep apologising for needing to work," I tell him as I put the card on the end table and step up against his chest. "I know what I'm getting, moving in with you," I tell him softly as I cup his jaw with my fingers. "I'll buy a new comforter and some cushions for the sofa in your sitting room, the rest we'll shop for together when you have time."
"Thank you," he sighs before turning his lips into my palm and kissing it. "You still want to come to Melbourne with me next week?" he asks, his grin back in place when I say that I do. "We'll shop there then. There's a ton of places we can go."
"I'd like that," I tell him before getting up onto my toes to kiss his lips.
The knock on the door stops me from having a crack at molesting him just a little bit more than I should. I let him go and go to let Seth in.
"Call Alice," Edward calls out from the living room, "she likes to shop, right?"
EPOV
Seth has to huff his annoyance to get me out of the apartment and I go, very grudgingly, after stealing just one more kiss and after hearing her promise to be at the house when I got there later.
I virtually skip down the hall and into the lift, ignoring Seth's chuckle and his grin. I rush past the press and do my best to ignore their questions about my black eye as I make my way to the waiting car.
"Where to, kid?" Seth asks once he's in the driver's seat.
"The office," I tell him as I pull out my phone. "Drop me off and then I need you to find me a moving company that can pack, shift and deliver Monday."
"Are we moving?" he asks with a laugh.
"We're not, but Isabella is," I say smugly.
"I'll find some movers then," he chuckles as he pulls out into the traffic.
"Good morning Mrs Davis," I say into my phone once it's answered. "I have good news. I've asked Isabella to move in with me and she's agreed. Could you clear out some space in my closet for her things please?"
"Oh that's wonderful news," she says happily and I can imagine her hopping from foot to foot at the thought of someone else to take care of in the house. "When is she coming?"
"Today, in a few hours, maybe this afternoon," I tell her uncertainly. "She's just bringing a few things for now and the rest will arrive on Monday."
"I'll make sure everything's ready," she tells me and I thank her, knowing she would.
As I hang up I receive a text on my personal phone and pull it out of my pocket to read it. It's from Isabella and it's a phone number followed by the words 'good luck'.
"Trouble?" Seth asks as he glances at me in the rearview mirror.
"Of a sort," I mumble, already rethinking the intelligence of being so old fashioned. "Charlie Swan is going to kick my ass," I mumble as I save the number.
"I did, it was sort of therapeutic," Seth laughs.
"Thanks," I reply sarcastically, "I'm glad I saved you some time on a therapists couch."
"Why are we heading to the office?" he asks as he shifts lanes to take the correct exit that will lead to my building.
"I'm holding a press conference this afternoon and Emmett's team is going to help me draft what I want to say."
He stares at me again in the mirror before speaking. "With a black eye and split lip?" he asks.
"With a black eye and split lip," I confirm.
"About fucking time," he mumbles.
I ignore the comment even though I agreed with it and moved on to the next order of business. "Give Jared and Tyler a heads up that they'll both be needed today, maybe more than one trip back and forth to her apartment. Kate's on the boat this weekend so you're going to have to fill in for her for some things, sorry."
"As long as I don't have to wear a skirt I'm good with that," he chuckles as we pull into the garage beneath the building.
"You'd look okay as long as it was loose, you couldn't pull of a tight one," I chuckle as I get out of the car. "Bring me my briefcase at some point today too please," I ask when he's joined me.
"Whatever you need," he says with a wave of his hand. He hands me a small foil packet and I turn it over and read that it's my anxiety medication. "Put those in your jacket pocket and we're not arguing about this again, got it?" he says firmly.
I stare down at the tablets and hope I won't need them again today. I slip them into the inside pocket of my jacket. "I'm outing myself today," I mumble but he hears me.
"All of it?" he asks.
"Yeah. If I do it on my own terms it's worth nothing to anyone," I tell him, echoing Isabella's wise words from earlier.
"Exactly," he agrees. "All my phones will be on. Your wish is my command," he says with a flourish of his hands and a grin.
"Just bring my briefcase and organise the movers for now," I tell him as I make my way to the lift bank.
"On it, boss," he calls as he gets back into the car.
I feel strange striding through the building with nothing in my hands and because it's Saturday the whole ground floor is empty as I go through the lobby. There's no receptionist to greet me, no doorman because the only people here are on the top floors and they all park in the basement like me, and we aren't open to the public on weekends.
I take the lift to the top floor, take a deep breath as the doors of the carriage open and as I walk out and head for my office I start shouting for Emmett and his team to join me.
They file in, one after another, and as Emmett sits in the chair opposite my desk the rest of them line the walls, note pads at the ready.
"Scrap every statement you've already drafted," I tell them all. "I have a story to tell you and then you can help me draft a statement to deliver to the press in my own voice."
"About fucking time," Emmett mutters, just as Seth had.
"It is," I agree firmly as I pull my favourite pen out from my jacket pocket and pull a notepad towards me. "Right," I begin when everyone's pens are poised and ready, "I grew up with a girl named Tanya Denali..."
BPOV
I stare down at the list on the kitchen counter and wonder what I've forgotten.
I look around myself at my apartment and realise that I'm not going to miss it.
I dial the number with one hand, tell myself 'onward to better things' mentally and pick up the red pen to run it through the first thing on the list with my free hand. "It's Bella Swan calling for Mrs Cullen," I tell the voice on the other end when the call connects. I wait as patiently as I can while whoever it was tracks Esme down and when she comes on the line I inform her that I've agreed to move in with her son.
"Oh Bella," she all but cries, "that's such wonderful news, dear. I'm so happy for you both. What can I do to help with the move?"
I spend the next ten minutes assuring her that I don't need anything, that Jared and Tyler were already on their way to take the things I could fit into their cars and that Edward had given me his credit card for anything else I needed. I was careful to make sure she knew that I wouldn't be using it.
"Nonsense," she says when I'm done. "That house of his looks like a bachelor pad," she huffs. "It needs some colour and you're just the woman to make it look like a home instead of a house."
"It's fine," I tell her.
"It's not and he must realise that too if he's given you his card. Think about it and let me know if you'd like some help spending some of his money," she giggles.
"I will," I promise.
"What will you do with your apartment?" she asks and I tell her about Edward's idea to lease it. "That's a very good idea," she agrees. "When Edward himself was at the university he rented an apartment near campus too, so I don't think you'll have any trouble finding a tenant."
"There's a bulletin board and newsletters for each of the departments that usually run ads for places so I'll list it there."
"Wait," she says and I hear the shuffling of papers at her end. "Do you have a pen?" she asks and when I say I do she gives me a phone number to write down. "That's Ben Cheney's number. He's the admissions advisor. I'm pretty sure he'd have a list of people waiting for accommodation. Give him a call."
I'm grateful for the information and tell her so. We hang up after I've again apologised for missing dinner the night before and have agreed to come the following week instead.
I call Ben, introduce myself and explain how I got his number, and he took down my address and the details of its location and how much I'd need to rent it for to cover my expenses. He gave me a list of reputable real estate agencies that the university already dealt with for student leases and then he promised to email me a checklist I should read over regarding landlord insurance and tenancy laws.
He says to call him as soon as I've registered the property with one of the agents, and I've changed my insurance, and he'll have a list of prospective tenants ready to go.
It was that simple. One phone call and I had information and a plan.
My next call is to Alice who squeals when I give her my news. She agrees to break it to my brother but says she won't be doing it gently. She reminds me that he's only my brother, not my keeper, and I leave it to her to tell him.
We arrange to talk again soon and I hang up happy that she was happy for me.
I snatch up my list from the counter and take it with me to my bedroom. I pull down my only suitcase and start packing what I'd need for the next few days into it.
I clear out my bathroom and put all that into the only two boxes I could find the apartment. I text Jared and ask him to find me some more before I go to my desk and start gathering what I'd need for school immediately and stack the rest to go later.
An hour later Jared and Tyler come back and announce that both cars are as full as they can get without needing to strap me to the roof and I'm left standing in my kitchen wondering what to do with all the food that will spoil.
"I'll come back," Tyler offers. "I'll bring coolers and pack it up and drop it off at a soup kitchen. What do you think?" he asks.
"I think that's brilliant, thank you," I tell him as I grab my backpack and keys. I'm about to shut the door for the last time when a thought strikes me. "What did the press say?" I ask Jared.
"Unfortunately they're not stupid," he cringes.
"I didn't think so," I mutter darkly. "Oh well, they'd have figured it out when I didn't come back here again anyway. Let's do this," I tell him firmly and we set off towards the lift.
The press are rampant as we go outside. They shout out questions and push and shove the boys as they flank me. I flinch when one of them asks me if I'm going into hiding and cringe when one asks me if I want to comment on who gave Edward his black eye. I stop dead when one asks me to comment on whether it was Jake who did the deed.
"Don't rise," Jared warns as he grabs my arm and tugs me forward.
I throw the evil eye to the journo who'd asked the question and then start walking with the two boys flanking me to the waiting cars. Jared gets me settled into the passenger seat, the backseat being stacked with boxes, and then we're off.
"Home, Jared," I say dryly and he laughs.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Mrs Davis is helping me put my things into Edward's closet when Seth calls.
"What's up?" I answer.
"The boss wants to know if you want to come down to the office while he makes his statement?" he asks.
"He's going to do it now?" I ask, my stomach doing flip flops for him already.
"No time like the present," Seth drawls but there's something in his voice that makes me balk.
"Give me the pros and cons please?" I ask instead of saying I'll come right away.
"He'll be less nervous if you're here, but if you aren't the questions afterwards will be focused more on business than his personal life," he says. "On the other hand, he may lose his temper if the questions are personal right from the off, so you being here might help him keep calm."
"You'll bring him home right after?" I ask.
"He's good to go the instant he steps away," he replies. "Emmett's ready to step in and answer any business related questions right away."
"What are the chances of him having a panic attack during his statement?"
"Fifty-fifty," he sighs. "But those are the same odds I'd give you even if you were here."
"If it was you what would you do?" I ask, still unsure.
"He's making the statement because he needs to set the record straight about himself, not you or the two of you as a couple, so I'd stay away. Let the press see him on his own turf. Let him show them that he's capable of doing this on his own. But that's just me," he says softly.
"Then I'll stay away," I tell him firmly. "But I want to talk to him before he starts. That's my only request."
"Done. I'll have him call you once the press have arrived," he tells me before hanging up.
"We'll watch it on the news channel," Mrs Davis says as I set my phone back onto the bedside table. "I'll put the kettle on and we'll have some cake while we wait."
We stash the rest of the box of clothing into the closet and then make our way downstairs to the kitchen. I sit, because she won't let me help, while she makes coffee and slices a delicious looking chocolate cake for us.
"I'm so pleased he's going to do this," she says as she tidies up. "All the mystery surrounding him just makes the press rabid for any snippet of information," she sighs as we head towards the living room.
"I know," I agree. "Everyone I've talked to today says that it's about time he set the record straight too."
We set our mugs and plates on the coffee table and she takes up the remote control, turning on the news channel that's running a banner ad along the bottom of the screen giving a countdown to the press conference.
The presenter craps on about whatever else is making news that day but I'm not listening. I doubt Mrs Davis is either. I can't take my eyes off that banner ad. I'm so nervous for him. So worried that the stress and pressure he must be feeling will set off another attack in front of the press.
I jump when my phone rings and snatch it up. Mrs Davis mouths that she'll be in the kitchen when I'm ready and I nod my thanks to her as I answer.
"Hey," I say simply, too nervous to say much else.
"Hey," he replies. "I w-wish you were here b-but I understand w-why you aren't," he says and I can hear the stammer in his voice already.
"I want to be there," I reassure him, "but it's better for you this way."
"I'm n-nervous," he chuckles, "j-just in case you c-couldn't tell."
"Are you doing it from behind your desk?"
"No, there's a l-lectern set up in the foyer."
"Grip it with your fingers," I say softly. "Hold onto it so you don't sway. Look above the person at the very back of the group. Take deep breaths between sentences," I rush out.
"Y-you come and d-do it," he laughs. "Y-you know all the, the, the tricks."
His stammer is getting worse and I get more and more worried. "Are you happy with your statement?" I ask, trying to steer him away from the fear of actually speaking it out loud.
"Em's d-done a g-great job," he says.
"Mrs Davis and I are going to watch it on the news channel. We've got cake," I say stupidly.
"Save me some for when I g-get home," he says, still stammering but only once a sentence now I notice.
"Home," I whisper, "come home to me."
"Yeah," he whispers too, "I'm coming home to you," he says clearly for the first time on the whole call.
"I'll be waiting and then we can get on with whatever this is between us," I say cheekily, reminding him of a previous conversation.
"This thing between us," he says clearly and I can tell that he's shaking off his nerves, "is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. I'm going to get this done and come home to you, my beautiful girl, and then we'll get on with this thing between us."
"Good luck," I tell him quietly.
"I'm coming," I hear him tell whoever it is that's hurrying him up. "I've got to go," he tells me. "Save me some cake, beautiful."
EPOV
Emmett claps me on the back as I leave the haven of the small office I'd been stashed in to speak with Isabella. "Chin up," he reminds me as I nod firmly.
The click, click, click of the cameras is distracting as I walk to the lectern. The hum and buzz of all the recording devices a little annoying because I still had a headache but it was the racket of a lobby full of journalists all shouting questions at me that really pissed me off.
I adjust my cuffs idly while I wait for Seth to take up his position at the back of the room and once he gives me a curt nod I look down for half a second, reread the opening line of my statement, raise my head and I'm off.
"He's going to be alright," Carlisle whispered to his wife as they perched on the edge of his desk to watch their son on the small television screen.
"Bella's moving in with him today," Esme whispers back as she reaches for his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.
They both gasp with pride as Edward begins his speech by berating the very journalists that have come to record his statement.
"The grandbabies they're going to give us are going to be amazing," Carlisle whispers before kissing his wife on the cheek softly.
"Look, Amelia, there's daddy with Uncle Ed," Rosie says excitedly as she bounces baby Liam on her knee.
"Daddy, daddy, daddy," Amelia chants as she points to the little television screen that sits on top of the kitchen counter. "Unca Ed, Unca Ed, Unca Ed," she chants when her very favourite playmate comes onto the screen.
"Da, da, da," Liam gurgles right before puking down his mothers shoulder.
"Jesus, Liam," Rosalie complains as she stands to retrieve a cloth from the sink, "he was just getting stuck into that bitch Tanya Denali. You couldn't wait one more minute?" she asks the squirming baby as she wipes his face. "No Amelia!" she shouts as she watches her daughter's spaghetti lunch decorate the tiles, again.
"Motherfucker," Jake hissed as he turned the volume up on his car radio.
'I will continue to pursue a contract deal with Malita Steel. Mr Black's comments regarding the stood down director of that company are Mr Black's opinion and not shared by anyone associated with Cullen Enterprises. The contract price was changed post submission to the overseeing committee because I was made aware of a contra deal that Malita Steel had with Doctors without Borders, to supply a portion of the surgical instrumentation made gratis to that organisation.
'The documentation to support my claim is available to anyone who wishes to see it at the overseeing committee as well as in the Cullen Enterprises prospectus that is available both online and from right here in the lobby of the building itself.
'Mr Black's professional vendetta against myself and my workforce has the potential to ruin a deal that could see thousands of much needed medical instruments denied to those who need it most and I urge Mr Black to consider his comments, and seek appropriate legal advice, in the future before making such outrageous claims.
'I cannot comment further about that whilst the matter is pending a decision before the courts. I refer you to my legal counsel Mr Cauis Volturi if you have further questions about the case he has filed against Mr Black on my behalf.'
"Motherfucker," Jake swore again as he narrowly missed hitting the Jaguar in front of him. Desperate to hear the rest of the press conference without having an accident he pulls his car out of traffic and pulls to a stop in a side street.
'It is true that Mr Black was once engaged to Isabella Swan, who now resides with me. That is a personal matter and I will not, under any circumstances whatsoever, answer questions pertaining to my private life regarding my relationship with Miss Swan.
'Further to that I met with Mr Black at my property yesterday and we have come to an understanding. Mr Black will cease his personal vendetta against myself and Miss Swan with the view to preventing certain aspects of his own private life being made public.'
"You bastard," Jake screeched, his body shaking with rage at the not so subtle threat.
'It was agreed that there will be no further contact between Mr Black and Miss Swan, or between myself and Mr Black. In the interests of full disclosure I must make it clear that Mr Black is not the individual with whom I fought, nor is he responsible for my injuries.'
"Someone finally punched you, you fucker," Jake snarled as he hit the steering wheel in triumph. "Whoever it was better not have fucked up that pretty face of yours though," he whispered to himself.
'My split lip and black eye was delivered to me at the hand of my personal bodyguard Mr Seth Clearwater. Take a bow Seth. Mr Clearwater and I had an agreement that if at any time it looked as though I was behaving in such a manner as to jeopardise my relationship with Miss Swan it would be pertinent for Mr Clearwater to knock some sense into me.
'It is with great pleasure that I inform you all that he did and it worked.'
"You smug prick," Jake seethed as his phone began to ring. He turned the radio down and answered the call to his legal counsel.
"I've just received notification that a libel suit has been filed in the Melbourne Magistrates Court against you," his lawyer says evenly. "I warned you, Jake. I warned you that one day that mouth of yours was going to get you into trouble. And here that day is."
"It's defendable," Jake spat into his phone. "I was careful about what I said."
"It won't matter," the lawyer sighed. "Nobody will care what the specifics are after listening to his press conference. You went too far, Jake. He's got you and you know it."
Jake hung up while his lawyer was mid sentence, not wanting to hear any more about how Edward Cullen had outsmarted, outwitted and outshined him.
Jake sat back in his seat, lit himself a cigarette and turned the radio up so he could listen to the smooth, velvet voice of the only man he'd ever loved one last time.
"Did you know that Edward suffered severe anxiety attacks?" Alice asked, tears in her eyes as she crossed the kitchen and dumped the icing bowl into the sink.
"He seemed so together to me," Jasper replies as he hands her a tissue from the box on the high shelf above his range. "I wonder if Bell's knew?"
"Listen," Alice said, pointing to the radio that sat on the same shelf as the tissue box.
'I want to make it clear that my condition in no way hinders my ability to run and oversee this company and its many subsidiaries. I have suffered these attacks for almost my whole life, and definitely since being at university and during the time that I began the first of the companies that now encompasses Cullen Enterprises.
'I urge everyone to make themselves aware of the condition and its treatments. I urge everyone to find out what an attack looks and sounds like and I urge anyone who suffers these attacks to come forward and make those around them aware of it.
'When in the throes of a severe attack I need help. Help to maintain my balance and my breathing. Help to be put into the recovery position and help to obtain and take my medication. Without the love, support and help of those around me the attacks would be more frequent and certainly be more dangerous.
'The Beyond Blue organisation is a national support system for sufferers of anxiety and their friends and families. Please support the vital work they do in the community. Please visit their website, and others like it, and make yourself aware of what to do for someone who you find exhibiting symptoms.'
"She must have known," Alice replies to her fiancé's question after they've both listened to Edward speak. "I mean, she has panic attacks herself. Nothing like what he goes through obviously, but she'd know the signs and how to help him, right?"
"Must have," Jasper agrees. "Bloody stupid anyone thinking he can't run a company because he has panic attacks," he scoffs. "I mean, he's a bloody gazillionaire already, had to have been pretty good at his job to get that far and he says he's had this shit going on his whole life."
"I like him," Alice announces as she takes another tray of cupcakes out of the massive oven.
"We'd better still be going racing next weekend," Jasper whines as he scrapes down his grill after taking the mountain of ribs off it for tomorrows event.
"We're checking out flowers for the wedding," Alice protests.
"I'm racing with Ed, take Bella," Jasper grins.
"You're coming with me."
"I'm not."
"You so are."
"Am not."
"I won't put out if you don't," Alice smiles sweetly.
"I want roses," Jasper huffs, knowing when he's beaten.
"Good boy," Alice chirps.
'The implication that steel I've mined and smelted will be used to form weapons for use in a rebel led coup in a foreign country is not only false but also deeply offensive. Malita Steel is a reputable company with whom I've dealt on numerous occasions with the full support of the overseeing committee for international trade.
'The personal political views of one of its directors will not and should not tarnish the good name of the parent company.
'As for the claim that the retooling work at the former Equity Steel site in Gladstone is associated in any way with the retooling that would be required to make weapons is an outrageous lie. I have never attempted to, nor will I ever attempt to, withhold information or plans for retooling from the relevant government authority.
'I have filed, and will continue to file, all necessary documents with the office of Fair Trade as is the current requirement for the mining of and smelting of steel in this country.
'Mr Black has commented recently that a full inquiry into the practises in place at the current Equity Steel site be held. I welcome any such inquiry and would like it expanded to encompass all of the subsidiaries of Cullen Enterprises. I have nothing to hide and I vow to be forthcoming should any inquiry be launched.'
Charlie Swan pushes his heels into the footrest of his recliner and returned it to a sitting position as he turned the volume down on his television set.
"Good lad," he said with a grin as he took up his telephone and dialled.
"Welcome to Bartlett and Applebee, Annette speaking, to whom can I direct your call," the woman said when she answered.
"Hi Annette, its Charlie Swan calling for Miss Coates if she's available?"
"Sure Charlie, please hold," she says cheerily as Charlie turns to watch the television screen for a little bit while he waits. "Transferring you now, Charlie."
"Hey Charlie, what can I do for you?" a woman says as she takes up the call.
"Hey Victoria, I wanted to thank you for the identity information you sent me," Charlie says sincerely. "But I don't think I'll be needing the case histories after all. Turns out the guy I was investigating is as clean as a whistle."
"Not good for your bank balance Charlie," Victoria laughs as she begins typing. "But good news about your target."
"Yeah, it's great news," Charlie agrees with a grin.
"Okay, I've just removed your request for the files," she confirms and Charlie lets out his held breath. "Let me know who your next target is and we'll set up another request."
"Thanks Victoria, nice doing business with you," Charlie says with real affection.
"Always a pleasure," she replies.
"Thanks again," Charlie says before ending the call. He sets his phone back on the end table by his recliner and takes up the remote control, turning the volume back up on the television.
"I'm sorry Miss, but your card's been declined," the girl said as she pushed the credit card back across the counter.
"Try it again," Tanya snapped before returning her attention to the Facebook app on her phone.
The girl swipes the card again, Tanya uses one blood red painted talon to tap in the security number, and then the machine flashes red, again.
"It says it's declined and you should contact your bank," the girl shrugged as she began to take the dresses and skirts back out of the bag she'd packed them into.
"Ridiculous," Tanya spits. "Do not put those back on the shelf," she hisses at the girl. "I'll be back for them."
With that she stalks out of the shop, turns to go towards the exit doors of the shopping mall and once she's outside she lights a cigarette and dials on her phone.
"Daddy, something's wrong with my card again. It won't work and the dress I was trying to buy is the last one in my size," she whines when the call connects.
"There's nothing wrong with the card, I had it cancelled," Eleazar sighs to his daughter, used to those types of calls, and no greeting.
"Why would you do that?" Tanya screeches, stomping on the ground like a three year old throwing a tantrum over a sweet.
"I begged you to come home, Tanya," Eleazar said as evenly as he could manage under the circumstances. "I told you to come home and explain yourself to me but you refused. I warned you what I would do if you didn't, and I warned you what would happen if you used the money in your trust fund for anything untoward."
"You're going to cut me off?" she shrieks as a woman holding a little girls hand pulls the child closer as she throws Tanya a wary look.
"No, I've already cut you off," Eleazar informs his daughter sadly. "You used ten thousand dollars from your trust account to pay a journalist to discredit my oldest and dearest friends son, Tanya. What exactly did you expect me to do?"
"It didn't work anyway so I don't see the problem," Tanya simpers, a little more calmly now she knew why her father was being so mean.
"You're right, it didn't work," Eleazar agreed. "And lucky for you he isn't hunting you down, though I can't be sure he hasn't sent someone to find you," he sighs. "As of this instant you are on your own, Tanya. I've tried to be a good father to you but at thirty-six I think it's time you stood on your own two feet and made your own way in the world."
"But I'm at the Gold Coast, daddy," Tanya whimpered, the panic slowly starting to set in as she thought about her father's words and how serious he sounded. "How will I get home?"
"I told you to come home a week ago," Eleazar reminded her. "You still had access to money a week ago and you ignored my requests and my insistence. My advice is to make the most of what you've prepaid for at whatever hotel you're staying at and use the three years of university I paid for all those years ago to get a job to pay for your return trip. Oh, and turn on a television or a radio."
Tanya was about to start crying, which had always worked on her father in the past, but the call had been disconnected at his end. She withdrew the phone from her ear and stared at it for a long, long time.
He'd hung up on her. He'd cut off her trust account and he'd left her alone and incapable a thousand miles from home.
The call she placed to her sister went unanswered, as did the one she placed to Jake.
As she looked around her at the parking lot Tanya began to tremble. She was alone, away from home and for the first time in her life without unlimited access to money.
Opening her wallet she counted the money she had in cash and sighed. "Thirty-seven dollars," she wails at the lack of funds. "Okay Edward," she mumbled as she dialled, "Now's your chance to make up for all the times you've let me down."
The call went unanswered, as it always did.
A/N: Thank you for reading.
This is the last chapter of the regular story.
The next one is made up of small vignettes that give you an idea of what happens over the coming months.
Please review.