"You want a pretty boy. Sweet and kind, who would get you to heaven. But baby, I would goddamn bring heaven down to earth for you."

This man negotiated with countries for christ's sake. His clientele list varied from unstable third-world mobsters to the United States government.

Money was not a problem for him. He could rob a bank in Berlin while sitting in Tahiti. For a man backed up by billions of dollars earned by hardworking taxpayers from around the world, things seemed inconsequential.

Even the thugs of the Uganda Black Market knew who he was and what he did that made him so powerful.

But as cover, his family launched an esteemed global investment group as a front to prevent the SSC from breathing down their necks. At least those who were not steamrolled.

Besides he had to make use of the years he invested in obtaining his master's from Harvard Business School.

Things were not always like this for him.

Years ago, on a business trip in Greece, he fell in love with a greek supermodel called Tatiana Nicolaus- "the succubus" with gorgeous smooth olive skin. Green and aqua eyes. Silky golden tresses like mesh woven by a spider to capture the hearts of men. With her long legs and tall stature. Voted sexiest women alive 7 times consecutively by The Times magazine. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

Confident, athletic, headstrong, and outspoken. She was a perfectionist. A beauty with brains. Tatiana fondly called "Tanya" or "Tan" was, for the longest time the only thing in his life that mattered to him. So much so that the very foundations of his empire threatened to collapse.

Edward did not want her.

He needed her. Like water and air.

He would burn the world for her.

If she wanted he would bring heaven to earth.

She was able to turn him towards monogamy. A feat no woman before her had ever accomplished.

6 years ago~

" . I assure you the virus will be designed exactly how you intend it to be." Edward sighed. Exasperated by the rather seedy and tiring man.

They sat in Edwards's beach farmhouse in Santorini negotiating the semantics of what might be the biggest deal of Edward's career. But this was a fact known only by Edward. This was the richest client he had ever dealt with. This was the Soviet Union. And he was honored that Valkov Baladin the marshal of the Russian Federation had come from Moscow to discuss this deal himself. But Marshal or not, he was not going to get any special treatment.

"You do understand the adverse consequences you and your country will face if this deal falls through?" He threatened in a thick Russian accent.

"This is the future of the USSR. If the peats of the UN find out, it will be our asses on the line, not yours."

"Sir. Do not confuse me with the belligerent mobsters and drug lords you deal with on a daily basis. I am a businessman."

"Don't fool yourself. You're a fancy terrorist organization concealed by statuesque buildings and sweet corporate nothings."

Edward clenched his jaw. Grinding his teeth almost audibly. His neck tattoo peaked dangerously from his collar. He cracked his neck and gave a mercenary-like look to Baladin. His eyes flashed dangerously. Edward had the looks of a god. His body sculpted my marble. He was intelligent and a master negotiator. But he had a low tolerance for anyone who wasted his time. Because for him time was far more valuable than money. He could drop a 10 million dollar check on the street but would waste no time picking it up because in the time it would take for him to pick it up he would have lost a much larger sum than a measly 10 million dollars.

"Okay. I understand, I don't want to waste my time. I gave you this deal out of mercy. Every second of my time is worth millions. I don't take shit from a two fuck general like you. Take it or leave it. After tomorrow, deals off the goddamn table."

Edward got up signaling his security to start exiting. But he knew that it would take only 7 seconds for the bastard to be on his knees licking his feet begging to accept this deal. No one wanted armament business with the USSR. They had a reputation for being lucrative, dangerous, and untrustworthy goons.

But in this business. Edward Cullen was the biggest and baddest bully in the mother fucking yard.

"Wait! I did not mean to insult you, Mr. Cullen, please! Take a seat, and let's discuss the deal. I was just harmlessly ribbing."

Baladin laughed nervously, sweat soaking his collar. As he furiously wiped his forehead with the handkerchief.

"Pleasure doing business with you Mr. Cullen."

"Wish I could say the same."

"I am so sorry to hear that. Now that business is over, how about some pleasure?"

Mr. Baladin's idea of pleasure was a quick 45-minute flight in our private jet to Athens to attend

Victoria's Secret Gilded Lingerie show in Panathenaic stadium inspired by ancient greek goddesses.

Edward was nonplussed. For him, supermodels were a dime a dozen, one of the many notches in his bedpost. When you are a billionaire and hot as fuck, it is almost too easy. But he was an avid lover of Greek Mythology. And, who was he to say no to scantily clad beautiful women.