Good morning, my friends!

I'm going to go grab another cup of coffee :) Enjoy chapter fourteen!


BPOV

Pulling the window shade to the side, I scan the parking lot again before triple-checking my locks. If someone followed me home, they did a damn good job as the path I drove took far more twists and turns than necessary, even making U-turns out of two gas stations.

But did all of my careful evasion techniques matter?

If Edward Cullen's Russian counterpart could corner me in the lobby of La Bellissima, what would prevent him from tracking down my residence through public records? I should have taken my father's offer to put his name on my lease instead of mine. Three months ago, the idea that I would intertwine myself in some sort of organized crime conflict was laughable.

Yet, here I am, more convinced than ever that Edward Cullen is a part of the still-active Masoni family syndicate.

Resigned, I sink onto my hand-me-down couch. If there is someone outside, Russian or Cullen-Masoni, they're smart enough to keep some distance. Without leaving and scouring the area, I cannot confirm my safety. Safety from either group because after tonight's run-in, there's no way I can trust the men behind the scenes at La Bellissima—especially the man I gave unfiltered access to my body.

I flip on the TV, open my single streaming app, and replay the first thing that pops up. It's a romantic comedy I began watching two weeks ago when I had an actual day off. Snorting when I realize the movie is about a man who falls in love with a mafia princess, I scramble to mute the ironic dialogue.

What the hell am I going to do?

Edward is insistent and demanding in the best and worst ways. When his fingers grip my waist as he buries himself deep inside me, I scream out his name in grateful ecstasy. Had he let me walk away after our first encounter, I would have missed out on the most thrilling nights of my life. He'll make it near impossible for me to escape our arrangement.

It's unlike me to drink on a random weekday, but God help me. That bottle of Rosé stashed in my cabinet is calling my name.

I switch movies to a documentary about bears in Alaska, then shuffle into the kitchen and fish my rarely used wine opener from the back of the silverware drawer. Wine is not a chugging liquid, but I don't care, as half my glass disappears in a single swallow.

How do I remove myself from the underworld I've stumbled into? More cheap wine slips past my tongue as I debate my options.

The mature thing to do would be to talk to Edward and tell him this arrangement is too much for me. Tell him who my father is and that I refuse to have any link to illegal activity.

Unfortunately, I don't think that excuse will fly.

Edward will never admit to sordid dealings. If anything, he'll probably try to keep me around as an asset. After all, what kind of criminal willingly has the daughter of a Fed on her knees for him? He would probably use our relationship to prove his business is legitimate.

Oh God, I've turned into a whore.

I snort into my empty wine glass and pour myself another.

There's only one solution, and it's drastic. I'm going to have to quit my job at La Bellissima. Cut off Edward Cullen cold turkey. I heard one of Garrett McAllistair's casinos is hiring girls for a magic show. I could fit into a tiny box to get sawed in half, right?

There go the hefty paychecks I'm counting on.

My purse buzzes from the table in my kitchenette— a call coming through on my cell. I side-eye the knock-off Prada bag until it shuts up, then down another large sip of Rosé.

I'll call human resources tomorrow and tell them I'm not returning. I'll say there's been a family emergency, and I have to move back home. That way, when Edward hears about my departure, he won't be tempted to show up at my door to break my resolve.

The phone begins buzzing again, and I polish off my second glass in defiance. I refuse to act like an adult and get up to answer the damn thing.

I should turn it off. I know who's calling. If I allow him to talk, there's a strong chance I'll lose motivation to end things.

More wine.

More sulking while I attempt to focus on the bears hunting salmon on my screen.

More phone calls.

Halfway through my third glass, I'm feeling the effects of the alcohol, and my eyes begin to droop. I place the dollar store stemware on my side table and lie on my side, tucking a floral throw pillow under my head. There's not enough energy left in my system to worry about getting myself to bed, and I begin to doze off to the sound of the mating ritual of black bears.

But I never fully fall into the much-needed sleep my body craves because right as the bears finish up their sexy time, a frantic pounding has me shooting up, staring wide-eyed at my door.

Crap.

I rise to my feet, my big toe catching the hem of my flare leggings and nearly sending me face-first to the ground. I steady myself on the arm of the couch and, despite my racing heart, break into a buzzed giggle because, yeah, I'm well on my way to drunk.

Hoping liquid courage will make the situation at my door more manageable, I reach for my glass and chug. These few ounces go down smoother than the first, but my face still scrunches in displeasure at the slight burn.

More pounding and the shaking handle on the front door have me rolling my eyes as I grab the wine bottle. I might as well take it with me.

I'm ninety-nine percent sure I know who's at the door before I hear the string of curses Edward lets out after he calls my name. No Russian is this desperate to get to me—just a crazed Italian.

I take a swig out of the wine bottle and say a silent prayer before I unlatch the deadbolt and twist the knob, leaving the chain in place. Maybe he'll get the hint and take off.

Peeking through the door with one eye opened and one eye closed because I'm starting to spin a little bit, I find a tousled-hair and a clenched-jaw Edward. Fists ready for a fight and the top buttons of his shirt undone, he's masculine and mouthwatering and… oh shit, getting drunk was a horrible idea.

"Let me in." He's seething. I'm not sure if I'm the target of his ire or if he's pissed about the Russians targeting me.

More wine. He's too much to deal with. "What do you want?"

"What… are you drinking?" His brow cocks as he tilts his head in an attempt to get a glimpse of the hand and bottle I'm hiding out of sight.

"It's been a long night." Despite knowing not to provoke this side of him, my lips twist, and my eyes narrow.

Reaching out, he pushes the wood between us, making the side of the door dig into my shoulder.

"Oh my God! Stop it!" Now I'm whining, and he's pissed, and I'm sure the nosey woman next door is listening to our whole interlude.

"Let me in, Bella. I'm not opposed to breaking down this door."

"You break it, you buy it," I chirp, like a five-year-old. "I don't have the money for that, and I am not giving my landlord a blow job."

The second the words leave my mouth, I know this is not the correct thing to say. Edward's growl of displeasure and tense shoulders send a shot of panic down my spine, and because I'm a stupid drunk, I slam the door in his face and scurry back to the couch, throwing my discarded pillow over my face. My bottle of wine is still in hand and ready in case I need a weapon.

The flimsy chain affixed to my doorway gives way with a snap, and Edward's in front of me within seconds, ripping the pillow out of my hands. "Give me the wine, Bella."

He's authoritative, demanding, and a little terrifying as he barks the order, forcing me into submission.

"You drank all of this?" He holds up the few ounces left, swishing them inside the almost empty bottle.

"My drinking habits are none of your business." Wispy strands of hair fall into my face. I push them away toward the hair tie that is supposed to hold them.

Edward glides to the kitchen with long steps and pours the remaining wine into the sink. Once the bottle is discarded, he sighs, resting his palms on the counter and dropping his head. I chew on my lower lip, sure that if I speak, I'll worsen the volatile mood he's working to shake off.

After a few moments, he raises to his full height, scrubbing a hand over his face and releasing a muttered, "Fuck."

"Bella." His steps toward me are deliberate, and his gaze penetrates while I push further into the cushion behind me. However, a spark ignites in my belly when I consider that he may punish me for bad behavior. "What happened at La Bellissima."

He squats down, perched in front of the couch, as I take a deep breath to quell the nerves that reappear. "Your Russian friend cornered me."

"He's not my friend."

"Acquaintance."

Edward shakes his head, lips in a grim line. "Nuisance."

"He thinks we're together." Edward's face gives no tell as to whether this idea unnerves him. "He thought by getting to me, he'd influence you."

Lips quirking at the sides, Edward nods. "He may be right." I suck on the side of my cheek. I'm not sure what this means. "Jasper told me he gave you a message."

I blink twice, trying to recollect who the hell Jasper is. "The Russian man said that if you stay out of his business, I'll never see him again."

Edward blows a breath out through his nose as he rises to sit beside me. His strong hand grips my knee as if to hold me in place, to keep us attached. I flinch. This is the opposite of how I wanted a conversation with him to end.

"I can't stay out of his business," Edward explains softly. "He's not a good man, Bella. It's my job to stop him from ruining— to stop him."

Softening to his touch, I run my index finger over the fine hairs, dusting the top of his hand. "Is he in the hotel and casino business?"

"Not exactly."

My breath hitches as Edward confirms my suspicions. When I look up, the greens in his eyes soak me in, searching for any reaction that tells him how much I suspect. I break our touch, standing and sucking in too much air, the oxygen and intoxication making me dizzy.

"My father is a Federal Agent." Maybe this will be my out. Maybe now that he has an inkling that I know who he is, he'll back off. Stop this chase. My shoulders sink at the idea of ending our connection.

Licking his lower lip, he locks his hands together, resting his elbows on his knees. "I know."

"You… you know? But we've…" It's not my out.

Thank God.

He shrugs, nonchalant like he's made plenty of stupid decisions with the women he takes to bed. "I don't care."

"You're a criminal." Like I said, I'm a stupid drunk.

He chuckles and glances away. "I'm an entrepreneur."

"What do you entreprenue? The mafia?"

His laugh hits full force this time as he places his hands in his pockets, and fine lines crinkle on his temples. "Entreprenue is not a word."

I shake my head and fall into a chair at the table because standing is too much. "That's not an answer."

"You've done some research." He steps toward me. "I doubt anything I say will change your mind."

"What if I tell you I don't want to be involved with a man who does illegal things," I counter, but it's half-hearted. It's not a lie. I don't want a man like that. That doesn't mean I haven't found a man like that.

Another step closer. "I'd tell you I can't stay away. And honestly, I don't think you can either."

My breath is shallow as he moves across the room until he's standing before me, powerful thighs brushing against my knees. Bracing himself, one hand on the back of my chair and one on the table, he dips down until our lips are millimeters apart. "I won't let the Russians get to you again."

"You can't protect me all the time." My lips barely brush against his as I speak.

He scoffs, darkened eyes alight with the challenge. "Imagine underestimating me."

Edward's mouth presses to mine as he claims me for his own. I beg myself to resist. My palms settle on his pecs, and I tell them to push him away. But as his tongue swipes against mine, my fingers fist his shirt, pulling him closer.

His hand splays across the small of my back as he guides me to my feet and presses me against the hard planes of his torso. "Where's your bedroom, Bella?"

The wine has made me lazy, and his kisses have me inebriated, so I forego words, simply pointing down the single hall of my apartment. His sudden grip on my ass makes a squeal rip from my throat before he hooks my legs around his hips, carrying me.

Lips and tongue relentless, he walks blindly, bumping his shoulder against a wall and nearly tripping over the laundry basket I haphazardly dropped next to the bathroom. As we cross the threshold of my room, I reach past him to hit the light switch, illuminating us in the soft glow of my bedside lamp.

Edward's knees hit my mattress first, and he releases me, my back bouncing off the box springs, but my legs remain locked behind his ass, pulling his pelvis close to mine. His erection strains against his slacks, tempting me to touch. But I am becoming an expert at the rules of Edward Cullen, and I know taking the lead will result in delayed gratification. Tonight, Rosé buzzed and wanting, I don't have the patience for his teasing.

"Off." His command is accompanied by a tug on my pants, guiding them and my panties halfway down my ass. A slap on my knee has me unlocking my legs and stripping off my clothes.

Naked and glistening with my need for him, I prop myself on my elbows and spread my thighs, giving him the view he wants. His gaze doesn't leave my core as he flicks the buttons on his shirt open one by one. It's discarded first, followed closely by his undershirt. The sound of his belt buckle opening causes my eyes to flutter as I anticipate what lies beneath.

"Are you ready for me, Mia Bella?" He rasps, his fly dropping and pants pooling at his ankles. "Do you want me to fill you to the brim? Fuck you so hard you'll never run from me again?"

"I didn't run from you," I argue, then bite the tip of my tongue. I need to shut up.

Edward's brows raise as he slinks forward, clad in only his black boxer briefs. "I believe I ordered you to stay at the hotel tonight."

"I didn't want to be in a room by myself." I'm whining. My vision fixates on his penis, straining to escape.

The pads of Edward's fingers slap against my pussy, electricity spiking through the sensitive flesh. It's meant as a warning, a reminder for me to behave, but how can I when breaking the rules feels so good?

"I'm going to lick you now, Bellissima, until you beg me to stop."

I moan at the promise he presents, forcing my hips up and legs open when he takes a first taste. His tongue flattens, slowly dragging along my swollen clit. He's firm but gentle, stroking and sucking while his mouth devours me.

Too soon, my legs quiver, and my hand slips along my abdomen until my fingers thread through his hair, holding him to me. He grunts but never stops his ministrations. Sparks tingle in my center as I climb, teetering before I fall, shaking thighs begging for release from Edward's firm grip.

He doesn't stop.

"Edward, please. I came," I pant, tugging at his hair, begging him to move while his tongue laps lazily along my pulsing flesh.

"And you'll come again." He gives me little reprieve as he growls the words.

I gasp and twist as he returns to catch my clit between his lips, pulling gently.

"No, it's too much." His biceps flex as his fingers splay wide across my hips, pinning me to the mattress.

His head lifts, and hooded eyes bore into mine, my rapid pulse accelerating further. "Once is not enough."

Arguments die on my tongue. Edward returns to work while my eyes squeeze tight, and I regulate my breathing. As my chest rises and falls, his hand travels across my ribs, stroking the underside of my breast.

"Feel yourself, Bellissima," he mutters, buried against me, his words muffled.

His thumb and index finger pinch the hardened nipple of my left breast, further explaining his command. Replacing his fingers with my own, I lightly stroke and pinch, allowing my middle digits to trace a circle around my areola.

The overwhelming sensations of a few moments earlier morph into pleasure. I gasp, surprised. Edward's rhythm has me reaching toward a crescendo again. But I need more.

Moaning a breathy, "Edward," my head lolls to the side, my vision unfocused and world spinning.

I mewl and twist my nipple when the tips of Edward's fingers tease my entrance. Suddenly, my urge to be filled by him overwhelms all other needs, and I do my best to angle my hips to let him know what I want.

Sighing in relief, I pulse around him as his long, thick digits enter me and curl the slightest bit. The extra pressure, mixed with Edward's soft tongue and lips, has every nerve inside me rocketing into ecstasy.

"That's it, baby, come for me." Edward's words float in the air around me, barely registering. I'm too high, too gone, to comprehend anything but bliss.

"Oh, holy God." I'm spent, unable to move. Boneless, weightless, beyond satiated.

When my eyelids crack, an amused grin meets me, the man it belongs to sprawled on the mattress beside me.

His brow arches, and his cock jumps against my thigh when he asks, "Was it good?"

"It was…" I don't have words. "Everything."

I know I need to move and muster the strength to get him off, but I don't think I can.

"Sleep, Mia Bella. I'll be here when you wake up. We can continue after you rest."

Edward shifts, freeing the sky-blue comforter trapped beneath us and wrapping an arm around me, guiding me to lie across his chest.

His scent, citrus, musk, and man surround me as my lids drop, and my breath evens. Before I slip away, I feel his lips descend on my crown.

"Mia Bella. My Bella."

My lips curl into a smile.

Yes.

I am his.


A/N: Was there ever any doubt these two belonged together?

See you soon!