Ready to find out what Edward was up to while Bella was being confronted by the Bratva?

Here we go!


EPOV

I settle into my booth in the back of Trattoria Nuova Luna before the mid-day rush. Caius assures me there's plenty of food ready to be served. He started his day at seven when he arrived to mix bread dough from scratch. I'm grateful for his dedication to his restaurant and family as I spoon Bruschetta onto a slice of focaccia.

My father sits in his usual seat across from me, tapping out a text on his phone. Since the brief greeting I received when he arrived, he's been distracted by the device.

"Everything okay?" I ask after swallowing. It's not like him to be so inattentive.

He grunts and spits an Italian curse before flipping the phone face down and placing it on the tabletop. "You know it's my wedding anniversary today." He raises his brows as if this is something I should have recollected. I didn't. "I'm working on getting reservations at that place your mother likes at the Bellagio."

Ah. So he didn't remember either.

"I'd imagine that shouldn't be hard for you." I help myself to more Bruschetta.

"Except my secretary is out sick. She handles all that shit." His phone buzzes, and he's back on it in a second. "What kind of jewelry do you think your mother likes?"

I laugh, covering my mouth with my hand. "You're kidding, right? She's your wife."

"I think I got her earrings last year…" He pulls up Cartier's website on his screen and scrolls through their new releases.

"Do you want to borrow my secretary for the day?" I throw him a bone. Maybe someday I'll be in the same position with Bella.

Shit. No.

Not with Bella. With some other woman.

Who won't be nearly as captivating as my beautiful Bella.

I'm so fucked.

"Is Kate competent enough to handle this? You don't exactly have a track record of wooing women, Edward," he scoffs and shakes his head, clicking on a garish necklace that my mother would never wear.

I wipe my mouth with my napkin before asking, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He stops his scrolling to send me an incredulous stare. "I was married with two children when I was your age."

"You were a sucker." Taunting him isn't an excellent idea, but it's too tempting to pass up.

"I love your mother. You should try it sometime, getting your head out of your ass and finding a relationship."

"Sure. I'll get right on that." After all, I had a top contender in my bed last night. "I'm sending you Kate's cell number."

He gives up on the jewelry search and sighs. "Grazie."

"Can we move on to our actual problems now?"

He scans the room, ensuring no associates with open ears are nearby. "Explain what you meant over the phone. 'Our Eastern friends came to visit?' Your code is too vague, Edward."

"You never know who's listening." I shrug, leaning my elbows on the table. "Vladimir Petrov was in my casino this morning."

My father's brows dip as he reaches for the appetizers, but the concern I expected doesn't manifest. "Okay, so?"

"He was doing surveillance— watching me and B… watching us."

"Maybe he just wanted to gamble. La Bellissima has a nice casino. If he saw you, he would recognize you and look. What makes you think he was doing surveillance?"

My fingers tap along the tabletop as I begin to lose my patience. "He had a second guy in the building, but not with him. As soon as I left the floor, they took off. He was on a call when they climbed into a waiting car and left."

"Fine. It's not normal behavior, but you know the Russians. They're not normal. Too intense," he chuckles at his summary of the unpredictable syndicate as he licks tomato off his thumb.

"I don't want them moving into Vegas." My tone is stern, harder than it should be when speaking to my father. "Do you not remember that girl at Garrett's?"

"You can't control everyone, Edward. If it's outside our property, it's not our business." My father pulls his napkin from the table, folding it across his lap as Caius appears from the kitchen, balancing sausage calzones on a tray. "Grazie, Zio," my father thanks his uncle.

Caius responds with a wave of his hand and a "buon appetito" before he shuffles back in the direction he came.

"They were on my property." I take a forkful of calzone, the mozzarella dripping as I lift it to my mouth.

My father chews and swallows, humming his approval. "They're working closely with Aro in Chicago."

"What?"

Fucking Aro, our cousin about five times removed, has run the outfit in the Midwest for the past two years. It's new information, but it's not surprising that he's jumping in with the filthier parts of the underworld. The guy has no morals. He once murdered an entire family, kids included, because the father owed him ten grand. He's a fucking psychotic prick.

"I don't want to ruffle feathers," my father explains. "We aren't going to mess up relationships with family. Plus, we need both Aro and Vasili Petrov on our side. You know how many deals go through them."

"Dad, Chicago hasn't brokered a trade for us in over a year. Their interests are changing under Aro. He's more interested in opiates than he is in stolen art. As far as our weapons deals with the Bratva, do you not remember when they almost got you pinched? Jasper finagled you out of that mess."

"Coming up with the story about being a collector of antique guns was a good one," he chuckles at the memory of almost being arrested. I don't.

"Aro's a liability."

My father drops his fork and reaches for his water. "You're dramatic, Edward. You always have been. It was a concern of your grandfather's before he gave you control of La Bellissima. You've improved over the years, but you're showing an irrational side right now."

"Jesus, I'm not being irrational because I'm concerned about sex trafficking running through Vegas and, in particular, my hotel," I hiss, rubbing at my temple.

"I'll talk to Aro, okay?" My father returns to his calzone. "He's close with Vasili right now. Aro can ask them to stay away from Cullen properties."

"You're missing the point."

"You're exaggerating the point."

Frustrated, I stab at my calzone. I'm not going to get anywhere with my father. He's too stuck in the past, in the days of "they have their business, and I have mine." Deep in my gut, I know there's more going on with the Petrovs, and I can't let this go.

oOo

"What I'd like to do is bring the gold color scheme into the wallpaper," my interior designer, Alice, says, leaning across my desk to point at her mockup for my upcoming property's guest rooms. Her short black bob falls in front of her black-rimmed glasses as she pulls a swatch from her bag and lays it flat. "See how metallic flecks run through the strips? I think that would add an extra touch of class."

Pursing my lips, I consider her suggestion. Overall, I trust her work, and her vision to go slightly over the top in my Egyptian-themed hotel and casino will fit the motif. Pharaoh's Temple is set to open late next year. I know I have to start making final decisions on the decor.

"Jasper, thoughts?" I ask my friend, who is supposed to be reviewing my liquor license application but is instead lounging on my couch and not so covertly eyeing the ass of my petite designer.

"I think gold makes sense." He shrugs as he clears his throat and adjusts his tie.

"So, yes?" Alice asks hopefully, her navy gaze flicking between me and Jasper.

Sliding the piece of wallpaper back in her direction, I nod and give her the order to "go for it."

She slips into a dialogue about textures and patterns that, quite honestly, I don't give a shit about while she gathers up her supplies and returns them to her oversized bag. I'm spared from seeing her out when Jasper jumps to his feet and opens the office door, giving her a wink as she dips her head and slips by. His much taller frame blocks the exit, forcing her to brush her shoulder against his bicep as she passes. I have to bite back a laugh at his blatant flirting.

"See something you like?" I raise my brows as the door clicks shut.

Jasper grins in return, crossing the room and sinking into one of the chairs in front of my desk. "Where have you been hiding her?"

"At the other hotel." I roll my eyes and push my copy of the liquor license to the side. "You want her number?"

"Nah. I'll get it myself." He brushes back a few strands of dark blonde hair before drumming his fingers against his thigh in thought.

"Whatever. Just don't get distracted chasing her. I need your brain focused on business."

My lips curl down when he scoffs, his head cocking to the side. "Hmm, it seems I'm not the one you should be talking to about distractions and women. I'm hearing plenty about you and a certain showgirl."

Grumbling, I sit back in my chair and level him with a glare. "Let me guess, Emmett?"

"He only confirmed. When you asked me to pull Bella's background check, I started watching her. You know I have access to the security footage, too." Slight laugh lines crease at the side of his eyes in amusement.

"Yeah, and if you know what's good for you, you'll get your spying ass out of my business." My voice drops in warning, but it doesn't deter Jasper. He's too much like a brother to me to fall victim to my threats.

He crosses an ankle over a knee while he chooses his words. "Don't make hasty decisions with this girl, Edward. She could end up being more of a liability than an asset."

My jaw ticks in displeasure, but the rational side of my mind tells me to listen to Jasper's advice. Bella Swan has already dug her way deep into my life.

I'm an addict.

I need a fix.

Ignoring him, I turn to my laptop and open the security footage Emmett saved this morning. "I need to show you something." I spin the computer so the monitor faces Jasper and point to the Russian on the screen. "Recognize him?"

"Is that…" He leans in, squinting. "Vladimir Petrov?"

Nodding, I press play. "Watch."

We stare at the screen. Jasper's eyes widen when Vladimir spots Bella and me. On the screen, Vladimir's spine stiffens, and his dark glare locks in on us. The video cuts to the next frame as we watch him exit the casino and meet with his colleague in the waiting car.

"What did your father say?" Jasper's foot taps a steady rhythm as he processes.

Scoffing, I flip the monitor around. "He said I'm overreacting. He's never seen the Bratva as a threat."

"Because your grandfather never did," Jasper points out.

I shake my head, dismissing the old-world way of thinking. "The Italians and the Russians worked side by side in his day. Everyone was involved in the same schemes, committing the same crimes, the worst of which was dealing opiates on the streets. Besides, there was no Bratva in Vegas when my grandfather ran the place."

"And no underaged girls were being trafficked through the city."

"Exactly."

Jasper leans back and steeples his hands in front of his face as he sighs. "I don't know, Edward. I agree that something is up. There's no reason for the Petrovs to hang around La Bellissima, but without your father's cooperation, I'm not sure making a move is wise."

"I need you to watch over things here this evening," I say, disregarding his advice.

"Why do you even ask what I think? You've already got a plan." He shakes his head but chuckles.

I raise my palm to stop him. "It's docile. Emmett and I plan to check in with the brothels on the outskirts of the city to see if some sort of financial help will keep them up and running. If the market remains saturated, then there's no reason for the Russians to move in."

Jasper's lips form a thin line as he considers my strategy. "Be careful. You don't need it getting out that Cullen money is going to that type of establishment."

"But Masoni money…"

"Well, that…" He laughs. "Is negotiable"

oOo

A satisfying smack sounds through my Escalade as my hand makes contact with the back of Emmett's. He knows better than to fuss with the dials on my radio, but it's the same routine every time I drive.

"Ow, damnit, Ed. Why do you have to be like this? I just want something better than fucking Mozart."

"It's Vivaldi and my car, my music." I turn the wheel, steering us off the interstate and toward the seedier side of Vegas.

Emmett huffs and checks the magazine on his Glock. When he's satisfied it's fully loaded, he slips it back into the holster at his ankle. "Who are we talking to first?"

"I want to visit Maria Sanchez. Remember the escort service owner who spearheaded the fight against the mayor? Her business is one of the few that hasn't been hit with a citation. She may give us a model to pass on to the other locations."

Nodding, his attention turns back to my dash as he starts to fiddle with the GPS, zooming it out to see what path it has us taking. My palm connects with his wrist, causing him to grumble as he pulls his arm away, rubbing at the red spot forming on his skin.

Emmett thankfully gets the message as he reins in his fidgeting and watches out the window for the remainder of the short drive. Soon, we pull up in front of a small stucco house. The cactus garden and front patio give it an innocent appearance, as if a family lives here, going about the doldrums of daily life. But I know better.

Maria Sanchez is brilliant at setting up a front. Her real home in the suburbs of Vegas is three times the size of this place- a rental property owned under her grandmother's name. The grandmother lives in Mexico City with Maria's cartel-associated grandfather.

I button my jacket as I climb from my SUV. My gun is firmly tucked into a waistband holster, although I don't foresee any problems. Maria is an ally, and her clients aren't privy to the location of her headquarters. Her business is purely online.

Rapping my knuckles on her door, I scan the street for unwanted eyes. A suspicious Fed or city cop could mean problems for me if Maria is ever arrested. All I find is a few empty cars parked sporadically.

The door cracks open, the security chains still engaged, to reveal a girl who can't be much older than eighteen. She's pretty with deep brown eyes and curly black hair. Her high cheekbones stand out, and I instantly see the family resemblance.

"Is Maria here?" I ask, doubting that the girl knows my affiliation with her organization.

"Just a moment," she mumbles, shutting the door before calling out in Spanish.

The unmistakable sound of high heels on tile overshadows the responding, "Si, déjalo entrar." Maria orders the girl to let us in.

The chain falls away as the door swings open, revealing the woman I'm searching for. "Maria, cómo estás?" I ask, kissing her on the cheek. She's dressed impeccably in a short skirt and blazer. A brilliant diamond ring adorns her right hand as it rests briefly on my shoulder. A gift to herself, no doubt. Maria goes through men as fast as her girls go through lingerie.

"Bueno, mi amigo. To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from the illustrious Cullen brothers?" Her dark eyes dart over my shoulder to Emmett as she speaks in smoothly accented English.

"We have some business questions we'd like to ask you." I follow her inside as she motions for the younger girl to shut the door behind us.

"Oh?" She leads us into a living room with modern white chairs and glass tables that are a stark contrast to the modest exterior of the building. Gesturing toward the furnishings, she chooses a seat opposite from us. "Are you looking to expand the Cullen empire to escort services? I didn't peg you for a man I would ever need to compete with."

Settling in, I wave away a water bottle the younger girl offers as Maria quickly introduces her as a niece. "It isn't us you need to worry about as a competitor," I explain. "We had a run-in with some Russians."

Maria nods, her lips pursing. "Pendejos," she curses them. "They are causing all sorts of trouble for me. Last week, I sent a girl on a job escorting a man to a show. Everything about him checked out; he was here for a conference from Boston, but when she arrived, she was met with three men she described as Soviets. They tried to take her all at once. I always advise my girls to carry mace. She got away but quit the next day, stating she no longer felt safe in the industry. A shame, she was one of my top earners."

"Has that happened before?" Emmett asks, leaning in, his elbows resting on his knees.

"It was a first for us… but I'm hearing stories from other agencies."

"Shit." I rub my chin, considering this new information. "You're being taken out from all angles. The cops on one side, the Bratva on the other."

She lets out a laugh, waving her hand in the air. "They are more connected than you think. We believe that the Russian pricks are feeding information to the Feds. A brothel in South Vegas went down last month after three Russians showed up and recorded the interactions with the girls. But that business was not as sophisticated as mine. The girls were young and stupid. They didn't know what terminology to use. When they quoted prices, they did so for specific acts. As you know, our prices are for escort services only. If one of my girls takes a liking to her date and decides to take the night further, there is nothing I can do about that." She smirks as she crosses her legs and drapes her arms along the side of her chair.

"Of course," I chuckle. "And that's the model we want to discuss with you. We want to make it harder for the Bratva to move in. Perhaps they won't be so successful if they have more competition."

"A good idea, Edward. Although, you will have to convince the lower-level companies to abide by strict rules. It is hard to hire quality girls in this industry. Many of them are in it to fuel their drug addictions. It's nearly impossible to train them."

"We are willing to help financially to keep their doors open. We may be able to stipulate that they ditch the workers who can't follow simple directions."

"Worth a shot." She shrugs, her brows raising. "But do you want to mix yourself with this industry?"

"I have my ways to keep the Cullen name clean," I dismiss, unwilling to explain my methods to an acquaintance. "Can I ask you a favor?"

Maria cocks her head, her lips curling at the side. "Depends. What do you need?"

"Can you inform us of any run-ins you, or anyone in your industry, have with the Bratva? The more I know about their tactics, the easier it will be to stop them."

Nodding, she stands, spurring Emmett and me to follow. "Consider it done." She reaches out to shake my hand, a tentative deal in place. "I see benefits for myself in our arrangement. So, in return, if either of you ever needs a woman for an evening, I am happy to oblige, free of charge."

Emmett snorts in laughter, holding his palms out. "Hey, I'm getting married soon."

Maria smirks as she looks him over. "That doesn't stop most of my clients."

"Eh, I'm a one-woman kind of man," Emmett promises as we approach the door.

"Well, then, Edward, the offer stands." She pats my arm with a chuckle.

My spine stiffens, and I choke back a scoff as I realize how absurd the notion of entertaining any woman other than Bella is.

"He's recently off the market," Emmett supplies with a wink.

Maria eyeballs me with curiosity before opening the door to let us out. "Crushing news for the single women of Las Vegas," she teases. "But I'm sure you've made one lady very happy."

We say quick goodbyes before Emmett and I return to our vehicle and shift course to the South side of Vegas.

Our next meeting goes smoothly, the escort service's owner is willing to listen to any suggestion to keep his doors open. "The money is too good to give up," he tells us. So it's not a shock when he graciously accepts a wire transfer of fifty thousand dollars. It comes with the stipulation that he fires the few girls he views as liabilities and trains the rest on proper verbiage to avoid getting caught in handcuffs.

We hit a snag at our third stop. Going in, we knew that Sin City Bookings was a flimsy front for a collection of coked-out girls and an owner whose drug addiction left him upside down and in unsustainable debt. It was a long shot that a boost from us would turn things around, but I want to cover every angle I can.

The undercover cars parked in front of the run-down office of the "booking" company told me I was too late to recover the crumpling business.

"Guess that's one off the list." Emmett ends our GPS navigation as I turn down a side street, eager to avoid the waiting law enforcement. "Where to next?"

"We're done for tonight. There are a few places I'm waiting on addresses for. Their legal listings are P.O. boxes."

Nodding, Emmett pulls his phone from his pocket, turning the ringer on. "You want me to check in at the hotel? Let Jasper know we're on our way back?"

"Yeah, sure." Accelerating, I join the traffic flow on Las Vegas Boulevard—half listening to Emmett's asinine greeting to Jasper, a crude rendition of how's it hanging? I skip to the next song on my playlist, a modern instrumental piano piece.

My calm is interrupted as Emmett's palm lands on my arm, and he squeezes. "Wait, hold up. What the hell happened?" He asks, turning to me, his mouth in a grim line.

Unconcerned about the road, I grab his phone, selecting the speaker phone option as Jasper explains the cause of Emmett's panic.

"Vladimir came back. I was away from the monitors dealing with a high roller asking for Edward. Ben spotted him first in the lobby, but Vladimir had already cornered her."

"Cornered who?" My knuckles protest, turning white, as I grip my steering wheel in fury. I already know what Jasper's going to say and fuck me, there's a Russian about to meet a violent end.

"Uh, hey, Edward." Jasper clears his throat. "Look, everything is fine. Ben intervened, and Vladimir is gone, but before Ben spotted him, he found Bella."

"Fuck! Fuck!" My foot presses heavily against the accelerator as I shift in and out of lanes, cursing the other cars that pose as obstacles. "Did he fucking touch her? I'm going to slice his throat, rip it open!"

Emmett's hand flies to the safety handle on the ceiling as I rush through a red light. "Shit, Ed, watch out. You're going to kill us."

"Edward, she's fine," Jasper assures me. Fuck that. Until I see Bella with my own eyes, there's not a single thing that will assure me of her safety. "She was sitting on a bench in the lobby, and he approached her. He told her to relay a message to you."

The corners of my vision tint red as my voice releases in a growl. "What fucking message?"

Jasper sighs, pausing. "He said to stay out of his business. He told her she won't see him again if you do."

A maniacal laugh rips from my chest, and my palm slaps the upholstery of my wheel. "Is Petrov fucking kidding with that shit? He must know I'm going to retaliate."

"Edward, don't kill me, but I have to play devil's advocate. He didn't do anything to her except freak her out. What can you do to retaliate other than the plan you already have?" Jasper tries to reason.

"Put him six feet under," I spit as my fingers tug at my hair. I slam to a stop at the next red light while Emmett crosses himself.

"You can't start a war over this," Jasper argues.

"Wanna bet?"

"I have the surveillance footage ready for when you arrive. How far out are you?"

Emmett laughs, smacking his hand on the dashboard. "Five seconds with the way he's driving."

"I'll be there in fifteen." I roll my eyes and accelerate a little too hard when the light turns green just to make a point.

"Try not to kill anyone on the way."

Ending the call, I steer around a taxi.

No fucking promises.


A/N: What's Edward going to do now? Is Bella going to run away screaming?

I will warn you guys that I'm working slowly right now, although I am working. The next chapter has been written but not yet edited, so be patient, and I will get it to you when I can.