So, I have a feeling that Edward isn't going to be too happy when he finds out Bella took off in the middle of the night. Is he going to let their interlude be a one-night stand? Let's find out!
EPOV
A symphony of wind chimes rattles me awake at seven-fifteen in the morning. The desert sun has already climbed above the horizon, and bright streaks of gold and orange filter through my windows, casting a soft glow around my room.
Hold on.
Am I waking up to my alarm?
Disoriented from the haze of slumber, I slap at my nightstand until I find my phone and silence it. Since when does an alarm wake me? Usually, I'm up before the sun, downstairs, and running over the past night's casino numbers when the damn thing goes off.
I shift my legs, which are half covered with my comforter. I'm naked, not unheard of, but something's off. Blinking, I sit up, wracking my brain to assemble the missing pieces.
Jesus Fucking Christ.
Bella Swan, the godamn showgirl—she was here last night. I fucked her. And, God, I didn't hold back. The monster inside me came out to play, and she let him. She took everything I gave her without complaint. She didn't say no once.
My dick hardens at the memories of her supple body writhing for me. The way she held on as I fucked her raw and how she submitted to my every whim.
Never, not fucking once, has a woman pleased me the way Bella did.
Usually, I get "Not so hard" or at least a "stop" or two. I'm always forced to rein in the beast and fish for an orgasm that doesn't quite satisfy my sexual hunger. But last night…
Last night, I was served a feast that made me greedy for more.
So, where is the sexy little showgirl that turned all my fantasies into reality?
Throwing my cover off, I climb out of bed and run my hand through my tousled locks. Her ripped G-string hangs off the edge of the mattress, but other than that, there's no sign she's been here. My bathroom door is wide open, the lights inside off.
I grab my boxer briefs from the ground, slipping them on before pausing to listen for any signs of human activity. All that meets me is the constant hum from the air vents.
Did I scare her off? Hurt her? I was pretty fucking rough. What if she's afraid for her well-being around me? My stomach drops at the idea, and the muscles in my chest constrict. I never meant to take things too far. I would have stopped if I thought she couldn't handle me.
With sweat droplets forming on the back of my neck, I swing my bedroom door open and stalk down the hall, checking the guest rooms as I go. My panic grows when I find no sign of anyone inside my home. If I hadn't seen her panties on my bed, I would question whether I made up the entire interlude.
I walk to the kitchen before guilt overwhelms me. My palms rest on the countertop, and I growl in frustration. I can't let this woman go. If it's my fault she ran from my bed, I'll never forgive myself.
Not only is Bella the only woman to truly satisfy me, but she fascinates me. I want to know more about her, learn her likes and dislikes, find out what gives her joy, and provide it for her.
Fuck me.
Do I… want a relationship?
No. No, no way in hell it would work. Not with who I am, not with the demons that dance on my shoulders at every turn.
I want a new fuck buddy. That's it. A woman I can enjoy the company of without commitment. It's a perfect scenario. She'll keep me fully satisfied while I shower her with gifts, evenings out, and maybe even a vacation here or there.
It's not like I want to see her swollen, pregnant with my child.
Except last night, when I came inside her so deep I knew I was spilling straight onto her cervix, that picture flashed across my mind.
Because…
I didn't use a fucking condom.
My panic triples. What the hell was I thinking? I always wrap it up. I'm not the kind of man to have children running around to care for. I mean, eventually, I will have to spawn a couple of offspring, but I thought I had another decade or so before I got to that point. Most men in my position don't take on a wife and a house in the suburbs until their empires run smoothly. In my mind, I pictured hooking a twenty-something trophy wife once I turned forty and leaving her out in a gated community in Henderson to do the domestic shit women do.
A surge of pride rushes through me when the woman I picture in that role morphs into Bella.
What if I did knock her up?
Christ! No. This is not how my life is supposed to play out.
I've got to track her down.
There's no way she's left the penthouse. You need a key card just to get out the door, much less the elevator and the downstairs lobby.
My motivation to search for her renewed, I head toward the living room, where I remember stripping her down to her panties. I'm taken aback when all I find is a towel haphazardly discarded on the floor and her dress and bra gone.
Now I'm getting pissed.
I call her name as I search each area of my penthouse, even my locked office and the hidden safe room behind the bookshelves. Nothing.
Irritated, I start up my laptop and open the archives of my security tapes. Scrolling through recent footage, I stop when I spot a figure entering my elevator at one twenty-two a.m.
Bella stumbles inside, her strappy heels tied loosely on her feet, before she reaches out and taps the first-floor button multiple times. When the doors finally close, she slumps against the wall, arms wrapping around her torso as if to hold herself together.
I recoil from the screen.
Did I fucking break her?
Switching footage, I find her exit from the elevator. She rushes toward the lobby, key card in hand, so she has no trouble opening the door and disappearing into the casino. She got out by taking one of my key cards. Shit.
I collapse against the back of my chair, disgusted with myself. I took things too far. My sick sexual needs horrified the poor girl.
I need to make it up to her and find a way to get her back into my bed.
My jaw locks with displeasure as I shower, reluctantly scrubbing Bella's scent off my skin. I dress in one of my standard black suits and pick up my phone from my nightstand. Before I leave, I grab one last accessory, my favorite Smith and Wesson handgun I wisely left behind during my date last night. On the off chance Bella didn't already know who I was and my station within my family, it was best to save that conversation for another time. Maybe never. I haven't forgotten she's the daughter of a Fed.
It's unnerving to arrive downstairs this late in the morning. The casino is already alive with tourist activity. I even spot a couple of our slot machine regulars perched in front of their favorite machines. When I'm satisfied that no harm has come to my property while I slept, I text my brother and tell him to meet me with caffeine.
"Have a good night?" Emmett chuckles, appearing between the blackjack tables as he hands me the Americano he picked up from the coffee stand in the lobby.
"I slept." I accept the cup gratefully, wincing when the liquid scalds my mouth.
"Yeah?" He narrows his eyes, scrutinizing me as I take the lid off and blow. "Is that what's different about you? No bags under your eyes today?"
I glare at him but don't take the bait. "Yep. That's it."
His lip twitches at the side, and I know what's coming before he opens his mouth. "Bull shit. You got laid. The stick isn't shoved so far up your ass today."
"I just got here. And watch it." Fucker will get a punch to the gut if he doesn't shut the hell up.
But does he shut up? Fuck no.
"Who was it? I know it wasn't that Irina chick because she's all over the tabloids this morning. She showed up at the MGM fight last night with her new husband. He's eighty-one. Lucky son of a bitch."
"Huh. Didn't know she got remarried." I shrug him off and start walking. Despite my insistence on locating Bella, I have work that must be handled first.
He falls in step, sipping on his Caramel Cappuccino something or other. The dude likes his chick drinks. And who am I to interrupt his effeminate ways? "You're evading, Ed."
"You're gonna get pistol whipped if you keep calling me that." I wait with narrowed eyes while Emmett runs his key card over an entrance to the security hall.
He waves me through the door, unrelenting in his quest. "I'm gonna guess who it was."
Chuckling, I play along. "Hmm. Saying I did get laid last night, who do you think I fucked?"
"Well…" He stops walking and taps his lip with his index finger in thought. "If I didn't know you better, I'd guess it was someone from the hotel, someone who works here." Struggling to keep my features relaxed, I raise a brow for him to continue. "But that's not your usual M.O. It could have been a tourist, but I don't know… you're never this bright and sunny after fucking an out-of-towner."
"Bright and sunny?" I scoff, glancing down the hallway to ensure none of my men heard his ludicrous description.
"Yeah. You're all well-rested, and you've only threatened me with violence once."
"Out loud." I continue walking, done with his bullshit.
His laugh rings off the walls as he jogs to catch up. "Nah, I think you broke your rules last night. I think you took an employee upstairs and had your way with her."
I suck air in through my nose, reminding myself that this is my brother, and if I kill him, I will have to explain why to my mother. "And I think you ought to shut up."
"Truthfully, I wouldn't have known if she hadn't handed your stolen key card off to Ben after she did the walk of shame through the casino. Here it is, by the way," he says, holding up the incriminating piece of plastic. "Ben wanted me to give it back to you."
"What the fuck," I growl, snatching it out of his hand and shoving it deep into my pocket. Great, now I've got associates who know I can't keep a woman in my fucking bed overnight.
"To be fair, he got caught with his hands under a showgirl's skirt, too. He ran into Bella in the theater when he came to collect her stuff, and he was leaving."
"Maybe I need to create a rule regarding fucking the talent," I snap, gesturing for him to open the door to the security room.
As I enter the hub of my domain, I turn away, expecting to put an end to our conversation. But Emmett's a jackass, so he leans in and says, "Yeah, but that would apply to you, and we both know you're not gonna stay away."
I curse under my breath.
Motherfucker's right. And I hate him for it.
oOo
Bella's apartment building is underwhelming. A tan stucco two-story with dark brown trim and sparse cactus plants decorating the perimeter. The surrounding community could be worse. There's, thankfully, no gang activity and lots of blue-collar residents. There's even a cop car parked in a driveway down the street, which is comforting despite my general dislike of law enforcement.
I hover in my Maserati, the sleek vehicle out of place on the cracked street. Driving this car was a choice I made to impress the showgirl I'm stalking. What woman doesn't love to know the man propositioning her has the funds to spoil her?
Reviewing my plan once more, I tap my fingers on the base of the steering wheel. First, I locate Bella's apartment, 2B. That shouldn't be hard. Next, I feel her out for any animosity toward the way I treated her last night. Third, I remedy that situation with promises of jewels and money. Finally, I charm her into a second date.
It's a foolproof plan.
Climbing from the car, I adjust my jacket. I'm tempted to pull it off since the temperature is already hovering around ninety. My Maserati responds with a subtle honk when I lock the key fob and drop it into my pocket. I run my hand along my hair, smoothing the strands that have decided to rebel.
There's no elevator in the complex; there are only outside stairs that lead to a walkway. I take the stairs two at a time, rehearsing the words I hope will lead Bella back into my arms and eventually my bed.
Apartment 2B is easy to find; it is the second one I approach. I attempt to peek through the window next to the front door, but blackout shades are drawn, giving me no hint as to whether or not Bella is even home. I suck in a steadying breath, unnerved at the fact I need to do so in the first place, and lift my hand, rapping three times against the wooden door. A few seconds pass before I hear "Just a minute" and footsteps padding toward the door.
Two deadbolts and a latch unhook while I wait, hands shoved in my pockets to appear less threatening. I don't want Bella to think I'm here for a repeat of last night. While I would love that, I'm sure she needs more time to recover. Although, if she's up for it…
"Edward?"
I chuckle at the tangled hair framing Bella's face. Her ever-present dark eyeliner is smeared under her eyes, and flecks of red lipstick still cling to her mouth. She's the most adorable mess I've ever seen.
She clears her throat, leaning on one foot, while using her arm to hide her breasts, which are very visible under her flimsy white tank top. "What are you doing here?"
"You know you don't have to hide those from me," I laugh, gesturing to her chest. "I've already seen them."
Well, that was not the right thing to say. Shit.
She recoils, crosses both arms, and steps further into her apartment. "Um, did I leave something at your place?" Her eyes dart behind me at an older man carrying a grocery bag up the stairs.
"I mean, your panties, but they weren't exactly salvageable." I wink, trying to go for fun and playful, but her cheeks tint red, and the confidence I came here with begins to plummet.
"Uh, you can throw those away, I guess." She curls her bottom lip under and sucks on it, a nervous habit I'm beginning to recognize. Fuck. I intended to win her over, not make her uncomfortable.
"Miss Swan." The man with the groceries passes by, his eyes darting over Bella, who is dressed in pink sleep shorts, the sheer tank top, and nothing else.
My expression turns to stone as I catch his eye. This woman's body isn't for anyone other than me. He gets the message and scrambles further down the hall.
Bella huffs, attempting to drag a hand through her hair to push it from her face. "Can you not scare my neighbors."
"I didn't like how he was looking at you."
Her eyes roll as she grips the open door. "It's no different than how you're looking at me."
"Yeah, but I'm allowed to." The words tumble out before I can think them over. I cringe because this isn't going well. It's uncharacteristic of me not to be able to control myself. "I think we should talk. Can I come in?"
"Uh." Her eyes dart into the living area behind her. "I'm not prepared for company."
"Bella," I lean in, stepping forward so the toe of my shoe passes the threshold of her apartment. "I've seen you spread wide and dripping wet. You think a little mess is going to detour me?"
"God, can you shut up?" She hisses, checking over my shoulder for witnesses to our conversation. "Fine, come in, but just for a minute."
Her door swings open, revealing a small living room and kitchenette. A blue plush couch sits against the far wall, facing a television on a black entertainment stand. Pictures of the Pacific Northwest landscape dot the wall, and a vase made of sea glass sits in the middle of her black Ikea dining table. I should have brought flowers. They would look good in the vase and brighten the otherwise bland space.
"Have you lived here for long?" I ask as she hurries to rinse off a couple of dishes in the kitchen, separated from me by a countertop bar. "You don't have to clean up. I don't care."
"I swear I'm not a slob." The back of her hand slides along her forehead as she attempts to get her wayward locks under control. "Things have been hectic lately."
I hum and turn to study a picture of a vast expanse of rocky coastline. "Did you take these?"
"No. I'm not that talented. They just remind me of home." Done with her attempt at straightening her apartment, she retrieves a cardigan from a kitchen chair and pulls it tight around her frame. My mouth curves downward at the loss of her perfect tits. "Edward. Why are you here?"
"You ran out on me," I sigh. "I wanted to make sure you were okay and didn't push you further than I should have."
"No, you didn't."
My thumb runs against my chin as I nod, debating whether I should believe her. "We didn't use a condom."
"I'm on the pill." This information relieves me and, in an unsettling twist, disappoints me. I quickly push my concern over that reaction to the back of my mind while she picks at the hem of her cardigan, refusing to look me in the eye.
"Look at me, Bella."
Her eyes lift, catching my gaze and holding it. Honey-infused chocolate swirls in a way that drives me crazy. I want to drown in this woman, give her anything she wants. Take her to the heights of pleasure while I revel in my own.
My breath filters in and out through my nose while I choose my words carefully. "Last night was more than I expected."
"It was just sex," she murmurs, and something in my chest twists and aches. But I know she's right. All of this is just sex. Even if it's remarkably outstanding sex, it can't be more.
"I don't want it to be a one-time thing." My brows dip as I search for a way to explain my offer. "You satisfied me in a way no other woman has. I'd like to make this a regularity."
Her jaw drops, and she blinks rapidly before saying, "I'm not looking for a relationship."
I grin. Perfect. "Neither am I. But I am offering an exchange. You fulfill my sexual needs, and I'll monetarily give you anything you want. Gifts, rent money, a new car, you name it, it's yours."
Pleased with my idea, I give her my crooked smile that no woman can resist. She's shocked at the generosity, her face blank as she tries to process it.
I'm not expecting it when her lips tighten into a thin line, and fury settles in her eyes. "Get out."
"What?" Did I not make myself clear? "You can have anything you want."
"So, what you're offering me is the opportunity to be your whore?" She spits, and suddenly I feel like the biggest asshole in the world.
"No, Bella. Not my whore. Just a woman I fuck and give things to in return."
"Are you stupid?" A sardonic laugh breaks from her chest as she walks around me to the door and swings it open. "Goodbye, Edward."
"Seriously?" I scoff, unable to believe the turn of events. "Did you not hear what I'm offering you?"
She sighs, tilting her head to the ceiling. "It was one night. That was all it was ever going to be. I'm flattered you want more, but right now, in my life, I can't be that girl. I'm sure plenty of other showgirls at your casino would be happy to take the job."
Fuck. I don't want some random showgirl. Until a few days ago, I didn't want any showgirls. But Bella, she's special. She's the kind of woman that comes along once in a lifetime. Letting her go before I get my fill would be one of the worst mistakes I've ever made.
"No." I crowd her, wrapping a hand around her waist and pushing my chest against hers. "Tell me you don't feel this, Bella. Tell me we aren't good together." I tangle my hand in her hair and tilt her head, capturing her lips in mine. My tongue sweeps inside her mouth, stroking hers momentarily before I step back and begrudgingly break all contact. "Think about my offer. You know where to find me."
It takes every ounce of my willpower to walk away, to leave Bella leaning against her door, eyes glazed and lips parted. But I can't force myself on her. I am the devil in many ways, but will never take an unwilling woman.
So, I've got to find a way to get Bella back in my bed willingly.
Frozen in her doorway, she watches as I walk down the stairs. Once in the parking lot, I turn to give her a parting wave, only to catch her door slamming shut. I sigh, realizing I will have to break out all my tricks to win this woman. As soon as I get in the car, I'll call the La Bellissima florist. A bouquet on her dressing table after tonight's show might earn her favor.
But there's another issue I need to handle first.
I haven't forgotten what Bella told me about her landlord. The fucking rat scum tried to extort a blowjob out of her to lessen her rent. Fuck me if that's ever happening again.
A chime rings out when I enter the dingy office in the front of the building. The floral wallpaper and a chip in the particle wood counter scream that it's time to remodel. Behind the counter, a middle-aged, balding man greets me. His pot belly hangs over his belt, and his breath smells of the sour coffee that sits in a pot nearby.
"You the landlord?" My knuckles crack as I fist my hand, itching to land a punch to this jackass's face.
He swallows hard as he nods and mutters a deeply accented, "Yes, sir. How can I help you?"
I lunge forward, grabbing him by the shirt collar. Despite his kicking legs and swinging arms, I easily drag his out-of-shape ass across the counter. As I slam him against the floor, my grin turns sinister, and my demonic side takes over.
My thirst for blood is quenched when my fist makes contact, and his nose breaks with a satisfying crack.
Ignoring his cries of pain and the crimson liquid dripping onto his shirt, I crouch beside him. "You know the girl in 2B, Bella Swan?" He whimpers and nods. "She's under my protection now. You don't fuck with her, or I'll be back to break every one of your fucking ribs one by one. Capiche?"
"Yes, I understand!" The fucker wails like a goddamn baby. Using a death grip on his shoulder for leverage, I stand and adjust my shirt.
He scrambles to his feet, bitching about his broken nose as I stride through the glass door, the bell overhead announcing my exit. Outside, the sun beats down, the mid-day heat causing the air above the asphalt to distort in waves. I wipe my hand along the back of my neck, which has instantly beaded with sweat.
With a final glance toward Bella's apartment, I slip into my car and crank up the air conditioner. Before I pull away from the curb, I have my florist connected over Bluetooth and a bouquet ordered.
…Bella wants to challenge me?
Then game on.
A/N: Edward's plan didn't pan out too well, did it? But what's Bella really thinking, especially after what Angela let slip about the Masonis?
Until next time!
