..::.. Chapter 43 - The Plan ..::..

With a phone number mentally recorded, I plan to make a move. It's an elaborate plan.

I'll take a cab to where he lives, and I'll show up in lingerie.

I cringe.

I want to punch myself. Fucking Ben. Jenks!

But my hands sweat, my focus is shot. I get no work done, and it's close to the end of the day—there's no other way I could do this. Show up and distract Edward. That's the plan.

It took a while to figure out the information I needed without having to go to a Cullen. Claire was a hassle to get it from. I approached her desk after lunch to check on a past client, and her eyes could have rolled right off the back of her head if her hair wasn't so big. A single call to Sue and she quickly handed over a piece of paper with Edward's contacts. Well, more like the contacts of one of his men.

Piece of cake.

Now to gain the courage.

I rummage through my mind all afternoon about what I'll wear. The act has to be natural, believable. He'll see right through me if I come too strong.

I cringe and groan at that mental pun.

This is for martyring purposes, Bella. Not because you still feel him all over you since yesterday.

Like ads popping up in your social media feed after you swore you thought about a product, Edward steps into the shop.

The little bell from above the door chimes like an old call, and my stomach falls.

Why am I nervous? This was the plan regardless of Jenks' plan; I get in, become his right-hand girl, and slither my way into his family.

He smirks, and it's like sunlight brightening the evening. Sue walks out, and she's all ogles and praises. He kisses both her cheeks.

"I wanted to ask your step-daughter out, but only with your permission," he says to her.

Sue melts. Claire probably shits herself. I roll my eyes but catch my expression. This has to work. Play the part like Jenks says. I catch his eyes from under my lashes and smile pleasantly; my heart racing.

"And where, may I ask, is this fine fellow taking my step-daughter? Dinner? Fine restaurant? Five-course meal? Or straight to a chapel?" She laughs nervously, and pats his shoulder. Her hands continue to tug on the lapels of his suit, straightening the already sharp edges.

I do roll my eyes this time.

"Could we possibly ask the step-daughter if she's even available, let alone willing? She does have a mouth, words, and thoughts," I say.

"And such a mouth she has," Edward says back.

Sue chuckles, waves her hand. Claire mumbles a profanity.

"Well, this mouth could also say she has to go home first to shower and prepare."

"Before the chapel?"

"Sue." I bite. She covers her mouth and smothers a smile.

Edward walks over, maybe a little surprised I didn't object to dinner. I tense. He says, "Let's see." He pulls me from the chair and observes as he pushes my hair off a shoulder. His nose comes close, toward my neck, and ends in front of my face. "A hint of soap, flowers … chicken salad for lunch? Nope, you smell wonderful to me. I wouldn't notice if you didn't shower. Sue could lend you a dress. Right, Sue?"

Sue giggles and she's already making it to the back. I step away from him. "You're disgusting."

He viciously grins. "You've always smelled good to me," he says, just so I'll hear.

He steps toward the door. "Have it your way; I'll be in the car waiting, not patiently." He points.

Sue brings up a bag with a hanger sticking from the top; a dress inside. "This one was for New York, but New York can wait. Go. Have fun!"

She pushes me toward the door with my things and bops me on my behind. "Put out, pretty girl. Live a little." She winks.

My mouth drops. She lets her head fall back as she laughs and walks off. Claire huffs where she stands.

Edward's guard quickly grabs my things, and I slide into the awaiting car. Edward is in the back, not driving this time. The parking spot up front is empty to accommodate him, yet again.

He slides me close over the leather seat and wraps his arm around me. "Sweet woman."

I look at the shop as we drive away, Sue waving from the window excitedly. "Right."

I practically closed the door on Edward's nose as he followed me to my apartment. I did not let him in. Nope. Self-only moments. The frantic circles I run around to get ready makes me dizzy.

Lingerie loops in my mind again and again, until I growl aloud and pull on a pair of plain, black underwear as I fire a, "Fuck it," to the air. Natural. Believable. No more than that.

The dress is brilliant. I pause and stare. Sue knows her shit. It's off my shoulders and floor length with a split. It's a lot. It feels like a lot. Like I'm doing it for him. Me; offering myself up, on a platter. Here you go. But I have nothing else to wear. Black heels I've had for a while work fine, and a bun at my nape. Well, that's it. I'm not trying harder than that.

He steps away from the wall from outside my door, where he was waiting all this time. Probably listening to me grumble, hem, and haw.

He stares.

"What?" I ask. I self-consciously skim a hand down my dress and tug my fanned bangs to the side. He's serious; his face blank as he walks up to me. I'm ready for him to take my lips like he usually does, but he holds back. I kind of tilt my head up ready for it, then I catch myself. And then kick myself.

"I wondered how you'd turn out after all these years. Grown. A woman." He shakes his head. "I came short. Every single time. I couldn't possibly have imagined you like this." His expression pained. The aching void he's had to endure all these years without me.

I stop fidgeting and really look at him.

"I know. You too." I nod slightly. "Maybe it was a good thing I didn't remember you." His pain. I understand it. I couldn't have coped.

He leads the way without another word, hands inside his pockets. And I look at that. Why are they there and not seeking mine? I shrug it off and follow.

The restaurant is impressive. The waiters in uniform, and the dim lights sparkle on silverware and wine glasses. Classical music stirs the mood and patrons unwind after a dreadful Monday. It's busy for a Monday.

And then I see them, the Cullen men. All of them. I suck in a breath, and my steps falter a little.

Edward looks back after figuring I'd be right beside him. He goes to me, questions in his eyes. "It's not an initiation, Bella. They're simply eager to see you. It's been years."

I take a breath and look over his shoulder. "Yeah, well, it's been years for me, too," I say. "Thanks for the heads up." I jab. He sighs.

They all look over at once, and not one stays seated as they welcome me at the circular table. The VIP section is above a floor as the rest of the patrons dine around. My skin crawls. Everyone seems to look over. I'm in this perspective now; not looking from the outside.

Carlisle is the first to catch my hand. He makes to kiss it, but pulls me in instead. His arm curls around me and he says, "You're more beautiful alive." I try not to flinch away when his voice is too close to my ear. His hair is silver gray and neat. His cologne expensive.

I don't respond but try a polite grin.

"I thought you weren't alive," he continues to say. "Jasper here told me all about your wellbeing and your sudden move to the neighborhood."

"Ah, right. I just needed to hide away for a while. It seemed like the perfect place." I glance at Edward.

He quickly guides me to a chair, and I sit. They all follow. Then I see what he did. He maneuvered himself between Carlisle and me. It was subtle, but it did not escape me. I look up at him as he walks around me and takes his seat.

Jasper looks at me from across the way. His lips pull at the edges, but he takes his eyes away. "Well, it was a surprise for me also. Grown into a fine woman."

"Thank you, my mother would've said the same," I say. I don't know why I did, but it seems to get caught right in his middle. His brows furrow with the blow. He nods once.

"She would've, wouldn't she? You inherited the best … attributes." His eyes elsewhere.

Edward was relaxed beside me; now he's not. He leans into the table and clears his throat slightly, taking one hefty gulp of whiskey.

I look beside me. "What's up Emmett? Nice seeing you again." I say this casually like we're longtime buddies. He shifts uncomfortably. I don't think he voluntarily chose to be here.

"Bella," he murmurs in greeting.

Carlisle's brows lift. "You've already reunited?" He asks. He points between the two.

"Oh, of course. He catered to me and some friends the other night. A real gentleman. He taught me a good hand at poker." Emmett glares at my profile.

Carlisle chuckles. Impressed. He's sort of unhinged. His high spirit seems off, not the kind I remember. His smile is chilling.

"Wonderful. I forget you practically were raised together. Neighbors. I have to apologize; I barely remember those details. An old mind like mine," he says with a wink.

I wave a hand. "Your household was the most controversial one on the street. So much risky business. I doubt you'd remember any victimized neighbors surrounding the area."

Edward coughs slightly around his drink.

There's a heavy pause. I take a sip of a cold martini placed in front of me and smile.

Carlisle booms with laughter. He slaps a knee.

"You know, I can't remember her being this witty. Have I been missing out? She's a riot." He asks the others.

No one answers.

"Say, how's Charlie been? Still massaging money into that little old house and shop?"

I laugh slightly at the condescension. "Retired. Living well in the city. I think the illegal ammunition hidden in the basement was the last of the remodeling."

Edward chuckles slightly, his lips paling. He scratches his jaw with a thumb. Jasper would probably excuse himself if he could stand. He looks dizzy. Even Emmett tugs at his collar.

Carlisle, on the other hand, goes wheezy as he laughs. I laugh with him this time.

"Ladies room?" Edward leans in to ask.

I shake my head. "I'm great, actually." He clears his throat and pulls on his tie to sit back.

"Charlie's a good man. Loyal. Always has been. But it was your mother who was quite the sneak, hiding them around the house. We wouldn't have the … motivation to continue the pattern."

I tilt my head. "My mother? Hiding what?"

Edward waves a hand. "Could we possibly get to the point here? You know I do hate small talk," he snaps. He suddenly molds himself back to Boss. He speaks. Carlisle ends it there.

I lift a finger to protest. Edward catches my hand and pins it over the table. They all stare at that, but they don't see his firm grip.

"Bella, here, has asked to be hired."

Now I'm caught like a deer in headlights. I compose myself.

Carlisle lights up. Jasper looks confused. Emmett sits back and scoffs.

"To be your escort?" he sasses. I cut my eyes to Emmett.

I twine my fingers around Edward's and make the coupling more apparent. "Why? Do you not have one of your own?"

Edward glances at our hands, and his jaw flexes.

I laugh a little at their reactions. My hand slips away. "What I do want is to take over Riley's partnership. Whatever he was into, I want in. I want to take his name—anything connected to it—and wipe it clean."

Carlisle shifts in his chair intrigued. Edward looks at me under knitted brows. He wasn't expecting this. Honestly, neither was I. Revenge for Mom doesn't seem fitting as a reason. I've never been so glad to use Riley like he used me to get what he wanted. He's the door to this family. I take the chance and barge in.

"And what do we owe this ask? Why so fully invested?" Jasper asks. I look at him.

"Riley was… a passion of mine for a while now. I know things about him you might not. He's a thorn I'll pluck—anything he's touched. And men in power never do succeed without women. You need me," I deadpan. Emmett crosses his arms and laughs.

"I think you all owe me that much. Don't you think?" I drive home.

"And you'd just accept this?" Emmett looks to Edward.

Edward, thinking he'd have the upper hand in this, sits back and crosses his legs. He lets out a breath through his nose and finds his drink. He's thrown; caught in the middle.

Carlisle watches him. "If this is what Edward wants, what have I to object?"

I revel inside.

Edward's attention is away from the table. He looks pissed.

"Well, Riley's … business didn't go well, which was the reason for his fall. We're just not sure what you could possibly do with it. It's in ruins," says Jasper.

"I know he was in finance. I would bet it's what he helped manage. A portion? It can't be all of it. You didn't like him, but you stomached him because his father is the wealthiest broker in the region. He was an asset to keep close, so was his son. Tell me, am I far off?" I challenge.

They look at one another. No one answers.

"So, how much did he take? I would guess it was quite a sum as he had the guts to come after you," I add.

Edward simply picks up his napkin, tucks a corner down his collar, and takes his utensil in hand. He takes a bite of his meal when it arrives with steam billowing. His jaw gets going, and he's savoring all the melded flavors. He doesn't react to anything I'm saying. His juicy steak has his undivided attention.

Everyone is tense, waiting for the bomb to blow.

Jasper sighs. "Assumptions correct. It was a large sum. We got most of it back. Still … working on the rest."

I nod.

"Seems like we have a deal then. Work still needs to be done." I lay my napkin on my lap and pick up my utensil. The bite is satisfying.

The meal ends, and no one speaks further about it. Carlisle goes on about the old days, chatting away with Jasper who just nods and barely answers.

Edward is non-responsive. I glance over at him, watch his mouth in motion, his hands. He did not have any control in this arrangement, and he's having none of it. He's definitely furious.

Emmett stands after inhaling his meal and snaps his jacket off his chair. He leaves with no words. Carlisle and Jasper don't even question it as they continue their awkward conversation.

I stand and head for the restroom. Edward doesn't even look up as the other gentlemen stand to see me off.

My reflection staring back at me in the ladies' room is rosy red and alive.

I did it.

I bite down on my lip to keep the relief at bay. My heart is hammering all the same. I head back to the table where Jasper and Carlisle remain.

No Edward.

"He had to step out; something pressing just arose. I'll make sure to take you home when you're ready." Jasper says.

I sit back a bit shocked. I down my drink. "I'm ready."

In the car, on the way back, the darkness in the cabin is welcoming. The street lights pour in on intervals, and I get a glimpse of Jasper's staring eyes. He sighs slightly.

"Say what you need to say," I spit.

"It's dangerous. This isn't for you. Your mother never would've wanted this."

"Don't you dare ever refer to my mother. You don't know what she'd want, and it's definitely not your concern," I say with a glare. He looks away.

"I'll courier a phone if you ever need to contact us," he says ending this.

The car stops and I'm home. I climb out without another word.

I stand in the hallway on my floor after stepping out of the elevator. I'm frozen in place. I'm antsy. I have to mend this with Edward. Where did he go? Jenks in my mind, his pointed glare telling me to fix a furious Edward.

I punch the button to head back down to the lobby. One request at the front desk and I wait as they make the call for me from the piece of paper Claire gave me. I don't know if this will work, but I'm damned if it doesn't.

I recognize him, Edward's guard. He steps into the lobby not a half hour later, he looks around and spots me. Once he sees me, he heads back out to the street. I follow. A car is waiting for me.

"Take me to him," is all I say as I climb inside. There are no further exchanges between us. Traffic is light at this time of night, and we make it there quickly. I look around—a luxury building's parking lot.

The guard, who is probably in his fourties—tight shaved head, dark eyes, and mocha skin—is tall and fit. He's not much of a talker. He just leads me to a set of elevators after making a call through his earpiece. He leads me in but does not join me. The doors close, and he stands there as they do.

The doors open and the penthouse is grand. I'm a little shocked. This crazy man spends his time in his childhood house to keep up pretenses, and doesn't allow himself to enjoy all of this?

My memories crawl back to his high school days; old T-shirts, pants that barely fit him, and worn sneakers. He was always this rich despite the tattered clothing. The years it must've taken to get him what he paid such a high price for. He always deserved more.

My heels sharply clack on marbled floors. I find myself in the living room. A bar far to the right, a fireplace across the other side is surrounded with furniture that could house a large family. It's empty.

I wonder if his living spaces always feel this empty.

I turn, and he's standing far behind me, watching from behind a large kitchen island. With a mug in his hand, he leans on the counter top with his other. He takes a sip but keeps his piercing eyes on me.

I can't help but take a sweeping look at his bare chest. His night pants, dark and silk, fit for a king. His hair is damp and pulled back.

I dare to walk over, the island between us. I pull my jacket off my shoulders and leave it over a stool, my purse next. The time it takes to make it around the island feels endless. I let my fingertips glide over the smooth, cold surface.

His look follows, never wavering.

I inch closer. The scent of soap and aftershave is just a step away. I use a fingertip to touch him. He's smooth, but hot in contrast. I drag it over his knuckles around the hot mug, past his wrist, up his arm. I trace the muscle over his shoulder to the spot I've kissed hundreds of times before when I was head over heels in love. I finish the journey at his neck. I remember the days. We were unyielding.

"I don't think I thanked you for what you did for me yesterday," I say. His hands stained with Riley's blood.

His breathing is deep. His nostrils flare just slightly, but he's motionless.

I take the mug from his hand and take a sip. And just like he did once to me—a girl in her nightdress on a Sunday—I bring it to his lips. "Sip," I order. I know he remembers. He does sip. I take it to the sink and pour the rest out.

My hands behind me, standing before him, I tilt my head up at him. "Kiss me," I whisper.

He lets out a breath, his anger with it.

"You expect me to after that stunt you pulled?" he says.

I shrug a little. "It was the only way. You wouldn't have pulled the trigger. They wouldn't have welcomed me in. You know this."

He says nothing. I show my hands. "I apologize. I was impulsive and inappropriate. I'll accept … a pay cut. A pink slip? Whatever you do to straighten up an employee."

He crosses his arms over his chest. His arms bulge upward. Shit. I know what they do to employees.

I look around, toward the other room. His room? I point a thumb over my shoulder. "Is there someone else…? Bad time?" I ask, pulling back. "Because I could leave. Boss-employee relationship standards should change now, right?" I wave a hand.

He doesn't move or object.

I nod. He really is angry.

I give him one last lingering look to conjure up in dreams alone tonight. "Goodnight, then," I say. I turn to leave, but he catches my arm and pulls me in. Those lips I've missed all day come crashing down on me.

No rush in this. He closes his eyes, and he takes his time. Those wrinkles between his brows say something. His firm grip says something. And I'm not sure he's ever let go of us. He wondered, time and again, how I turned out.

Well, I'm here. My feet are off the floor, and he's carrying me to his room, never taking his mouth away. I sigh, wrapping my arms just as tightly around his neck.

This was the plan.

Mine?

Jenks'?

He pulls off my dress. I slip that silk down his hips, and it slips my mind whose plan it was.

It's about this moment, as I crawl into his bed and feel his advance. His chest at my back, teeth on my neck. He takes my hips, and without so much as a warning, he's buried inside.

We move like we've been here before. We have. Us, young, pink and warm with sweat, darts stuck above his ceiling. Still, he feels the same. I kneel back to reach; his thighs, hair, and mouth, my nails digging in.

I'm wrong. He feels like so much more.

I'm not sure whose plan this was, but I really do mean every kiss.

…