Hi Ladies,

I'm thrilled you all are enjoying the story. I promised an early chapter a few weeks ago, but a series of events got in the way. I managed to throw a few extra words together for you, and I hope you like the chapter.

Please drop me a line and let me know what you think. Thanks for reading.

Chapter 11

Edward-

Bella was wholly simplistic in a way I had never experienced before. If this Impala, while a nice brand new car, could impress her, I'd love to see her reaction to the Aston Martin I owned. She'd probably melt. There would be shiny gadgets for days to push, and explore. I didn't let just anyone mess with my personal belongings, but I couldn't deny the thrill at the thought.

Relaxing against the seat, I turned on the highway headed back to Chicago. While I wasn't eager to return, I glanced at the fingers woven through mine, feeling the digits tremble slightly as my thumb coasted over velvet skin. I needed to be in our hometown. Before I could make this woman my legal wife there were a few matters to attend to.

First, we needed to get her a valid ID, then, apply for a marriage license, and pay a visit to my lawyer. My gut told me this simple creature wouldn't dare try to rob me blind at the end of our agreement, yet logically I couldn't take that risk. Adjusting my hold on her delicate hand, I grinned, enjoying the excitement she attempted to hide.

The joy I witnessed beaming from her brilliant gaze did funny shit to me. I'd never wanted to pamper a woman before, but suddenly, I wanted to show her everything she'd been missing. Satisfaction filled my chest, when she bit her lip, the smile she refused to allow to bloom, lingering below the surface.

Shaking her hand to get her attention, I had to reluctantly pull her out of her whimsical state. "We should get to know each other better for business purposes. Let's start with your full name, shall we?"

"Isabella Mary Swan," she replied, leaning forward to the volume dial. The song on the radio faded to a commercial, but Bella tipped her chin in my direction. I could feel the heat of her eyes trace the line of my jaw. "Is your name really Edward? I'm only asking because Adam kinda popped out of your mouth without hesitation. Sorta like you've used it before."

Her intuition was spot on. She detected my ability to weave a tale, and I admired that. It took a special sense to read a person's true colors. Considering her profession before we met, I shouldn't be at all surprised. She'd made a career out of reading people and manipulating them. While I was beginning to understand her reasons, she was still guilty—which meant I needed to be cautious with what information I provided. "My legal name is Edward Masen Cullen. For business purposes I use a different identity. Adam is the name I use for different occasions."

"Just so you know, Adam is a pest, and I really would've liked to smack him on that bus," she told me, her eyebrow rising as she spoke. "I've never met someone so annoying in my life."

"So, you'd prefer me as opposed to my alter ego?" I laughed, knowing I'd thrown everything into bothering her on the bus. Toying with people wasn't my forte, but flustering her was very entertaining for a long boring trip.

She leaned away, her back almost against the door, and she pulled at her hand until I released her. "I think that's enough of that. My fingers are sweaty and I feel like I'm on a leash." Her lips puckered as she blew cool air across her palm. She glanced at me with those wide expressive eyes. "I haven't decided which one of you I like more. You both seem to be annoying in your own right."

"Touché," I grunted, wiping my hand on my jeans. Studying the black asphalt stretched for miles before me, I rolled the tension from my shoulders. "So, where are your parents? Did you run away?"

She began fidgeting, staring blankly out the window, her lips thinning. "Nope. Didn't run away. My dad is Charlie Swan, chief of police, and who knows where my mom is. Haven't heard from her in ten years."

My grip tightened on the steering wheel. Was she telling me her father, the chief of police, had kicked his own daughter out? The question tumbled off my tongue before I thought twice about it. "Why the fuck would the chief of police kick his own daughter out?"

She sniffed, keeping her eyes downcast as she picked at the string on her jeans. "That's irrelevant. It doesn't matter, and I don't want to talk about that."

I was tempted to stomp on the brake in the middle of this goddamn highway and extract the information from her. I might have if she didn't immediately follow up her refusal to answer with her own inquisitive query.

"What kind of grown man, in this day and age, has to marry a stranger to avoid an arranged marriage? The whole custom is barbaric and went out with the Dark Ages, didn't it?" She played with a lock of hair, running her fingers through the ends. "Your dad needs a wake-up call. He can't force you to marry someone against your will."

My sentiments exactly. I looked at her briefly, my gaze running over the bridge of her nose to perfectly bowed lips. Tearing my eyes from her plump bottom lip, I focused on the yellow line dividing the highway. "Things are done differently when you're born into the type of family I was. They want to keep the power and money, and to ensure that they arrange marriages. Emmett, the lucky bastard that he is, met and married Rose before they could shove him into it. The burden has now fallen on my shoulders. As you can see, I'm not so complacent."

"Won't your dad be pissed?" Her fingers wandered back to the radio, and she changed stations again. When she switched to the second one, she paused, her gaze gliding across my cheek, my lips burning when her attention lingered there. "What will he do?"

"Once it's done, what can he do?" I had no definitive answer to Bella's question. I had no idea how Carlisle would respond, but I was past caring. He shouldn't expect me to bow down and do something so preposterous. "He'll be pissed, but aside from that what can he really do?"

She nibbled her fingernail, shrugging, "I don't know. What if he demands we get a divorce? In my estimation, parents don't really care what we want."

I suddenly became aware of what she'd just done. When I started to pry into a topic that made her uncomfortable she'd deflected it by conjuring up her own uncomfortable issues. Glaring at the road, I tapped the steering wheel with impatience. "So, what would make the chief of police kick his daughter out onto the street?"

She shifted next to me, obviously discontent, and a slight twinge of remorse tweaked my heart. "He didn't like what I had to say. He demanded I take it back and when I didn't he shoved me out the door. He said not to come back until I told him the truth." She cleared her throat when her voice cracked. "Our version of the truth is very different."

A roaring possessiveness breathed fire in my chest, my knuckles turning white as I clutched the steering wheel. I couldn't fathom anything she'd said being justifiable to kicking her out in the streets. Anything could've happened to her, and if she hadn't been as strong as she was, she would've succumbed to the dangers. "What was your truth?"

Her eyes collided with mine before she turned her head away to look out the window. "None of it can be changed, and so it doesn't matter."

"I disagree. Someone hurt you. Did you tell him? Did he kick you out because of it?" I reached across the space that separated us, my fingers brushing her arm. The way she flinched in response pissed me off in ways I couldn't explain. Her silence spoke volumes, and I gritted my teeth, suppressing the growl in my throat. "All I need is a name, Bella. Right here, right now, and we will put that demon to sleep."

Her head barely turned in my direction, but I felt the cut of her eyes. Anxiously, she rubbed at her stomach as if she were on the verge of being sick. Shame reddened her cheeks, and her lips quivered when she whispered, "Some demons never sleep."

"They can and they will." I'd never meant a promise more than I did right then. "You just have to trust me enough."

Bella didn't answer, a palpable tension filling the space around us. She swallowed hard, and her fingers shook as she picked at her jeans. Frustration burned in my veins, but instead of erupting, I chose to change the subject. "How long have you been on the streets? Tell me how a woman decides to pose as a hooker and robs men."

I didn't think she would answer, her silence stretching for several minutes. "I was sixteen when I was tossed out. I refused to compromise my truth and made my own way. When I got hungry enough, cold enough, and scared enough I did consider hooking." Her fingers twisted nervously in her lap. "I went to the corner and everything. I begged for enough change to buy a skirt and tank from a thrift store. I met a prostitute, and at first, she thought I was trying to steal her customers." Her gaze fixated on the glove box as the memory overtook her. A slight smile edged her lips, and my curiosity rose. "She wound up paying me twenty bucks to leave. Irene was kinda pissed when I showed up the next night."

"Did you ever actually sleep with anyone for money?" Acid climbed my throat at the thought of her lying beneath some desperate fool. Every muscle in my body was on high alert, growing so taut my bones threatened to snap.

She huffed in disbelief. "I can barely let you touch my hand. Do you really think I would've made it by sleeping with anyone?" Her jaw clenched and her head shook. "No, luckily Irene, the hooker I met came up with the idea of drugging the men, and robbing them instead."

"I thought you said Alice helped you." I tried to put all the frayed pieces of her story together. The details were getting mixed up, and sorting them became a trial.

"She did." She adjusted in her seat, leaning on the center console, she tucked her feet beneath her. "I met Irene first. I was sleeping in a Goodwill donation box. I was beyond desperate already, but when they padlocked the box shut, and I had no place to go, I wound up having to stay at the mission. I met Alice there. With Irene's help, we came up with a plan to use the cocktail bar."

I could picture this delicate woman curled inside a dark, cold donation box. She'd been all alone, and scared. I was beyond pissed. I made a mental note to have my men investigate the chief of police. If Bella wouldn't tell me what happened, perhaps Charlie Swan would answer my questions. As tempting as it was to hem her father up in some dark alley and pry the truth from his lips, I'd much rather hear it from Bella herself.

We rode in silence for nearly thirty minutes. Random pop songs played from the speakers, and Bella rested her head against the window. Wanting to recapture the simple joy she'd experienced when she'd first got in the car, I turned off on the next exit. Surely there would be a place to get the brush she'd been needing. "Want to do a little shopping?"

She instantly perked up, her eyes brightening. "What kind of shopping?"

"Whatever you want. But I remember you saying you needed a brush, and figured this would be as good a place to stop as any." I barely drove two miles into the small town before a salon's neon open sign blinked from the window. "How would you like to get your hair done? You can have anything you want done to it."

Bella chewed her lower lip, the color deepening to a dark cherry, yet excitement blossomed on her face. "I've never had my hair done before. I suppose I could get a trim."

"When's your birthday, princess?" I was shocked by how easily princess slipped off my tongue. When I first called her that it had been to establish a bond to the outside world, I never imagined the word causing a tingle on my tongue.

"March thirty-first, why?" She answered as I turned in the lot and parked in front of the small building. Her eyes widened when she finally realized where I was going with the question. "Oh yeah. When's yours?"

"Your birthday was a few weeks ago," I mused, turning the car off. Ready to stretch the cramps from my legs, I pushed the door open. "Mine is June ninth. I'm sure my family will have a blowout party with or without me. They always do."

"Lucky you," she mumbled, pushing her own door open. She scuffed her shoes against the pavement as she climbed out of her seat. "I can hardly remember the last real party I had."

She avoided my stare, and I saw the vulnerability she tried hard to hide. I don't know why but I had the impression something bad happened during or around that party. My aggravation rose to new heights. Even if I asked what that look meant in her eyes, I knew she wouldn't tell me. Almost as quickly as it came it fled, and she tipped her pointed chin in my direction, forcing a hint of a smile, as her eyebrows drew tight. "So, I'm eighteen. How old are you exactly?"

She was far too young to have gone through all the shit she had. When I was eighteen I was getting shit-faced drunk, hopping in and out of beds, and learning the family business. I'd never once had to wonder where I would sleep, or what I would have for dinner.

She'd been sixteen sleeping in a donation box, cold and hungry. Where was I two years ago? Probably beating the snot out of some fool who'd thought to get over on me. Possibly in the bed of some chick I hoped not to see past the pleasure. Maybe I was sitting at dinner, tossing the greens I didn't like to eat off my plate.

My whole life felt trivial compared to what this woman had been through, and it was a jarring realization. Pushing my troubling thoughts aside, I held my hand out to her. There was a slight hesitation, but she courageously stepped over to me and wound her fingers through mine. "I will turn thirty-one this June. Is that too old to be your fake husband?"

Her fingers twitched against mine, and a sparkle entered her eyes as I led the way onto the sidewalk. "Considering I never thought to have a husband at all, a thirty-year-old fake one sounds almost perfect."

That spark, her tenacious spirit, was always present in everything she said. How could I deny the admiration she inspired? I pulled her along toward the salon, and the bell above the door jingled when I pulled it open. "After you, princess."

The receptionist behind the counter beamed with welcome. "Do you have an appointment?"

Bella twisted nervously at my side when I glanced down at her. I never expected to see Bella at a loss before. She shook her head slightly. "No. Would you have an opening for a trim?"

"Honey, I have an opening for anything you want. Are you sure you just want a trim? You'd be really cute with some layers, and some color to frame that amazing face," she said sweetly, her gaze roaming over Bella's face and hair. "And look at those long eyelashes. Baby, you are making me want to give you a full makeover."

Bella's grip tightened on my fingers, and she swayed closer to me. Her apprehension was obvious, and I urged her with a lift of my chin. "You can do whatever you want, baby." Her hair was tousled from her shower, and lack of a brush, strands sticking up in different directions. "She has a point, darlin', but it's all up to you."

She nibbled her lip, her cheeks turning pink. "Whatever you think would look good, but I like my hair long so I don't want it all cut off."

When she mentioned the length of her hair, I gave the end a tug, her eyes widening in surprise. Jerking my gaze away from hers, I gave the woman across the counter a hard look. "Yeah. We like her hair long so don't cut it too short."

"No problem," she smiled in response, looking between Bella and me. "You two make a really cute couple." She cleared her throat, gesturing to the row of seats along the windows. "I have a customer I'm finishing up. It will be about ten minutes if you want to have a seat."

I led Bella over to the seats, and plopped onto the cushion, preparing for the long wait ahead. She picked up a magazine and flipped through it without ever looking at the pages, instead her gaze studying me intently. "Why are you doing all of this? Seems like a lot of trouble to fool people. Don't you have a female friend that would be better at this? Someone you don't have to be so cautious with?"

I settled my arm over the back of her chair. I didn't know shit about relationships, and I was just mimicking everything I'd seen Emmett do for Rose. Even while that was the case, I genuinely wanted to give this to her. I took a deep breath, and shrugged, "I'm not one to make a lot of friends, and all the women I know would expect a real marriage eventually. I don't think you will have that problem."

She studied the glossy image of the woman in the magazine, shaking her head, confirming what I already expected. "Nope. Never even thought about it before. Of course, I didn't think about anything much past surviving. Even so, I have friends." She paused her fingers lingering on the corner of the page. "Do you think I can call Alice after this? She's got to be losing her mind with worry."

"That would be a good idea. She's probably on the verge of filing a missing person's case with the police." I craned my head around to look out the window. Several stores lined this strip, and when I spotted a sign for Boost Mobile, an idea struck me. Looking back at her, I asked, "Will you be okay here? I have something I can run and do while you get your hair done."

"You're not going to leave me stranded here are you?" She went stiff, her shoulders going rigid, and worry thinned her lips.

"Not a chance, babe," I assured her as the customer rounded the counter to stand before the register. "I have a few things I can knock out while you're busy."

Bella chewed the inside of her cheek. She was trying so hard to be brave, swallowing her nerves, she finally nodded. "Okay, yeah. I will be fine. Just don't be too long because I don't have any cash to pay …"

"You're starting to sound like a real wife already," I grinned, digging into my back pocket to retrieve my wallet. Searching through the black leather, I pulled a few hundreds free, and pushed them into her hand. "That should cover whatever happens here."

Her complexion went ashen, and she stared at the money in her hand. "I-I'll give you back the change."

"Don't worry about it. Spend what you need." I had just pushed up from the chair when the receptionist called Bella over. I caught her hand when she slipped from her seat, meeting her gaze, I said, "I'll be back in about an hour. I'm sure you won't even miss me."

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