..::.. Chapter 54 - The Note ..::..

"Do me a favor?" he asks when we hop out of a limo hours later.

We're in Malta, Europe. It's seven hours ahead of Chicago, making us just in time for a late night event. I've changed into a cocktail dress at a luxury hotel penthouse. My jaw dropped when suitcase after suitcase arrived for me, stuffed with more of Sue's designer wardrobe. That sneaky woman. She didn't forget a thing, not even wardrobe and makeup help from visitors at my door the next hour.

I'm still in the dark as to why we're here and for how long.

"It's not you," Edward continues. "I'd attach you to me everywhere I went if it were up to me, but no hand holding, no … touching. I want you to be my associate tonight." He pauses at the bottom of the steps to the old brick structure with tall, modern, branded flags the length of columns. "And no smart mouth from you. Got it?"

My jaw flexes at his words. Garret and all sorts of guards surround us. Edward turns, blocking me from whatever view is before us, and quickly kisses me. "You look beautiful," he says, his eyes caressing as he adjusts his bowtie. "Down, girl."

I sigh. Sour patch. What a way to uplift, then infuriate.

"Best Boss ever," I mutter. He narrows his eyes at me as we ascend. "Last one," I promise about the sarcasm.

We get to the entrance of a spacious, candle-lit area. Dressed dinner tables, a dance floor, everything available for some sort of networking gathering. All is outside; a courtyard, lavish with greens and exotic flowers and trees. The roof is an old mural and the only thing keeping us from seeing the bright, bold stars in an ink sky.

"May I ask what this is all about?" I say as we pause overlooking it all.

"This is how we trade," he reveals.

"Here?" I'm confused.

"Essentially. We … fish for new partners, deals, meet current and new providers, charm if we must. Then contracts tomorrow at the morning exhibitions."

"We?"

He turns to look to the floor of the room and motions there. Emmett and Carlisle look up from below, already with drinks in hand. Fuck. My nerves bubble up.

"You're here because I need you. I wanted you blissfully unaware coming into this. You detect a great sense of character. I want you to gauge body language, those poker faces, measure the air flow with a licked finger. Whatever it takes. I want a report after."

"All right." I comply. "What's the trade, if I may ask." He looks at me sharply. "It determines the input and output when … gauging." I defend.

He looks around. He takes a breath like he's gearing up for it. "Arms dealing, Bella. We're the enablers. The devils of war."

I'm … speechless. The floor seems to fall away from under me.

"Want to hold my hand now, kiss me, let me touch you with these hands of mine?" he asks. His eyes travel over me. I look away. My heart seems to pause.

He leaves me behind, and I'm escorted by my own posse.

There are world leaders nonchalantly dining together. Allies and enemies of different countries, colors, shapes, and religious beliefs. Government officials from China, Africa, Europe. Military generals in their uniforms, their covers tucked to their elbow, a drink, or a woman in their other. They clink cocktail glasses together.

An arms exhibition.

It's … nauseating to witness.

People dying of hunger and their government sit at marble and gold-lined tables with every cuisine known to man. Platters full of colorful food. Champagne poured by female servers, in a choreographed motion around the room.

We gather together. Carlisle smiles at me. His hand catches mine and he kisses it.

"A delight to be in your presence."

I snatch my hand back. "Wonderful to see you again. I see you're well," I reply. He smiles trailing eyes over my floor length dress in emerald green, thin flowy fabric that billows when I walk. I tug on the split when his eyes stick. Emmett watches from a few feet away but turns his eyes to take a swig of his drink. I'm ignored, per usual. But it's clear I wasn't wanted here. He's tensely saying words to Edward and I know what it means.

Maybe my first report should be about Emmett's attitude, but I leave that on the back burner.

I'm mostly interested in seeing if Jenks made it here.

My shoulder is shoved enough to look to my left. Jenks passes by and I see the back of him as he walks away. I breathe a little easier knowing he's here.

He must be having a field day with this … travesty.

Edward looks over his shoulder as he walks into the crowd. Right. I should be following. I catch up as he's shaking hands with a group of men in a semicircle.

"This is Isabella Marie," he introduces, no last name. I notice. I withhold a handshake for a slight head nod. "Our contracts specialist. Please be at ease with her presence as she's one of our most trusted partners." I look at Edward. I'm aghast.

The associates nod but don't linger. They move on with chatter as if I don't exist, which is fine by me.

Arms dealing.

I don't know a speck of it, but the mammoth effect it has on the state of wars. This bunch in front of me speaks of it nonchalantly. Some express their need for items. I hear the word 'tons,' and I know this isn't simple trading.

The moment we left this group and traversed the room on our way to the bar, I hurry to Edward's side. I hook a hand around his elbow to stop him.

"What the actual fuck do you do?" I ask. "This is … insane," I say between my teeth.

He looks at my hand, back at me. He snatches his arm away to stare me down.

"Reasons why I kept you at bay." He looks around casually. "It's a billion-dollar business. There are needs. You fulfill the order, and they essentially pay the shipping costs and labor. It's pretty straight forward." His mouth quirks. "When it's not ugly."

"For weaponry?" I ask, appalled.

"Most of the time. Could be anything, really. Supplies, replacements, and even medical needs. It's not all bad, Bella." He picks up two flutes from a waiter's tray and hands me one with bubbling champagne.

"Unbelievable. So, what? The Biers account is petty cash?" I ask, mortified.

He shrugs. "We employ a lot of people. Not a penny goes to waste."

"This can't be legal," I say. "But I guess what is with anything you do?"

He laughs a little, glancing at my lips. "Sure it is. It happens every day while you live your pretty little life. And that's why there are contracts. You get that?"

"You've done this … all along?" I ask about years of practice.

He smirks. "Of course not. Senior nor Major would know how to deal with this. This is new. Bigger. And faster." We stare. "You should be proud. It was your idea, after all."

"Excuse me?"

"You wouldn't remember, but once you suggested hackers move money around digitally. Earth friendly. Less trees." He waits for recognition over my face. He chuckles low. "Well, I did look into it. And it was another entire level of business … opportunities that opened up. So, thank you," he finishes saying.

I give him a look.

"Whatever we were doing before this was child's play. We've matured," he adds.

"And you say this to me now? Publicly. So I won't scream?"

He shakes his head. "I planned on nothing of the sort. Ever. But like I said, complications. We have to find a new contract for a very large sum job we've never produced. It fell through. It sits in Croatia at a hanger as we speak. We need a new buyer, and fast. Hence, you here. Hence, you focused." A pointed glare.

I feel like I'll cry. My heart a drum in there. Despite his warning to appear platonic, I get closer. I grab his hand and lace our fingers fiercely. He straightens his spine and looks around quickly, then into my eyes.

"How will you free yourself? You ask me to run away with you. How am I supposed to save you from this now?" I say, my lips trembling.

His eyes are cast. He watches our hands interlocked. He lets go and drinks from his glass, no reply to this.

"We have work to do." He steps away as he's enveloped in conversation.

I hear him give an inventory of what he has in cargo by the tons, never disclosing locations around the world awaiting to be purchased to the next bidder; guns, rifles, amo. This is the complication.

I stand at his right. Words seem to pass right through me. I'm in a daze of despair. This is worse than I thought. I was right, Edward is a monster. My vision blurs at times and I pinch my palm so I won't fall apart. He glances at me from time to time and gives me a hard look.

All the hopes of my stupid heart suddenly shatter. I can't be his anything, and he can't possibly be mine. Standing here, trapped, I think of all the ways I've given in to him—body and mind. What was I thinking? I realize … I've been holding some form of hope.

For him.

And me.

I've lost him forever.

I grieve this silently. A storm inside me.

I try to focus, listen to the back and forth of the conversation. People are vicious. Greed brightens their eyes. Edward is calm through it, but I can see the desperation, this looming unease he never carries over his shoulders. So, I try. I help him. I watch evil in these humans and make notes. I can pick those bad apples quickly.

When we step away from a conversation, I shake my head with disapproval. Edward nods discreetly, agreeing. It goes on like this for a length of time until dinner is served and passed and the party erupts after late into the night.

I see Emmett close by. He's hustling, doing the same. These Cullen men are desperate. Never have I figured they'd venture out in person to get a job done.

I glance toward Emmett's lot. He's sitting at a table, laughing and drinking. Women in very little clothing hover around, the night's entertainment, like a cliche brothel. Emmett's posse surrounds him just a few feet beyond. I guess he also has his associate for the night. This guy is tall, buff, just like Emmett. His features mirror his, like a distant relative.

This stranger suddenly stands. He's laughing at a joke. He wanders away from the table with a woman under his arm, they end up by a wall, her pinned beneath him, her dress in rich sequins and long thick hair over her shoulders. I can't help but overhear their exchange. She asks for his name, and he reveals, "Bo McCarthy, baby. Don't forget it."

My blood runs cold.

I look at Edward, swearing he's seeing this too, but he's occupied. I look around wondering how many McCarthy's are injected in this mob. Mac, now Bo—incognito.

Does Edward know this?

I catch Carlisle's eyes by chance. He smiles. I look away so as to not engage him. I find the restroom to hide for whatever amount of time allows.

"Isabella, correct?" Someone says. I'm looking for my party after stepping out of the bathroom, roaming around the venue, when I almost jump with the start. A man in his late fifties, handsome, mediterranean. His accent is heavy. "Forgive me. I've been meaning to introduce myself," he says, smiling when he sees my surprise. He extends a hand and I take it, pulling myself together. "Efraim Abrams," he says, and it fits him perfectly. I smile warmly. He exudes a presence that is opposite of the malice in abundance I've witnessed tonight.

"A pleasure," I stammer.

"I don't mean to interrupt, but I must complete a favor, so I came. I heard from Mr. Biers and am delighted to help in this research you both have arranged."

"Right." I'm confused but I don't show it. Stephen Biers?

"I do say, it was a task, and I'm surprised when I became interested in finding out how many names under Cullen serve them with their finances."

Fuck. I panic. This is about all the accountant lists I asked Stephen to pull up. I look around, no one is near me, but our guards are a few yards away. I look back at Efraim and squeeze his hand he still hangs on to.

"I'm parched. Let's find a drink," I offer. Efraim smiles.

"Lead the way," he says.

I aim for the bar and a nook behind a large tree at the end of it.

"Efraim, I'm surprised you've come to me," I begin to say. "I apologize for the inconvenience. Were Biers' instructions not clear? I can certainly contact him about the confusion." My heart in my throat.

He laughs, a jovial chuckle that harmonizes just right with the music playing. Everything about him is intentional and perfectly poised. Even his scent. Expensive cologne and a suit to match. He runs a manicured hand over his tight, slick back hair. Immediately, he motions over his shoulder. An assistant snaps a cigar butt to place the perfectly shaped loot on his outstretched fingers.

Efraim lights it, puffs, and seems to sigh in contentment. His eyes remain closed when he speaks before they flutter open to reveal their brightness. He seems to do this every time he gets going.

"Worry not. Instructions were clear," he says. "I was delighted to see the lovely woman by Edward Cullen's side, and behold, your name was mentioned through conversation. I wanted to—how do you Americans say?—kill two birds with stone."

"Right. That is … very helpful. Lucky shot."

Shoot me.

He watches me closely. "Apologies. Should I have kept boring news to myself tonight? I find I speak much about business on occasions like this …" He seems genuine, brows knit.

"Oh, no! Of course not. I appreciate the urgency in your … help. I'm glad you came to me."

"Wonderful. Let's get you something sweet and bold." He motions and martinis seem to materialize with the gesture alone. I take a hefty gulp, my eyes roaming toward the back of the room to see where Edward is, but I can't see him.

"Tell me. How surprised were you to find these accountants? Was it substantial?" I ask, to get this going.

"Very much so. Your team is very wealthy, it seems. Fortunate to have the support from so many. I did find that some manage funds coming in from the many factories, with over five thousand employees in Chicago alone. Then there are the accountants managing income that overarches the sectors of specific products your team creates. It's quite impressive."

Holy shit.

"Right. It is. I'm … proud. And, you, sir? How do you fit into the puzzle?"

"Ms. Marie, I've just begun my journey with the Cullens. I was referred by Mr. Biers himself. I'm fortunate to have found this new partnership. I manage the funds of products created in Tel Aviv. Much, much work."

"Products. As a reminder, as I've also just begun the journey with the Cullens, what is the product created there?"

"Rifles, mainly. My sector isn't as impressive as others. I hear the Cullens have begun manufacturing drones." He whistles low. "Quite the undertaking, and very popular."

I snap my fingers. "That's right. Yes, it's been quite … a feat." I'm gutted. They're making products, not just buying and shipping. What kind of a mess has Edward put himself in? I want to find him and … nothing. I could do nothing.

I'm powerless.

I'm suddenly desperate. I want to stay far away from Efraim before someone sees me.

"And … how did you acquire this information Biers and I need?" I'm curious.

"Easy. Most of these accountants are associates. Something a simple phone call couldn't fix."

I smile. Maybe Efraim can be a new friend.

"Wonderful. Please forward it as soon as you can, keeping this confidential, as Edward would like discretion with matters as sensitive as these." I wave a hand. "Just security protocol, as you know."

"Of course," he says, then he leans in. "I do want to impress Mr. Cullen. Please, keep a good word for me, would you? I'm nothing but punctual," he says with a wink.

He takes my hand, a kiss there, and with that, he walks away, leaving a folded paper in my palm.

I'm freaking out inside. The list in the palm of my hand. How did this happen? Why now? I will strangle Stephen.

I rush to the restrooms but never reach them. My elbow is yanked. I suddenly find myself disoriented in a dark corner.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Jenks asks.

I breathe. "Oh, Ben." I whisper, hugging him. "What is all this?" I pant over his shoulder.

He pulls me and pushes my arms away. I break down. I'm in tears and he's standing there watching me.

"I'm sorry," I say.

"Pull yourself together."

I nod. "Yup. Right." But I just found out the worst things about Edward and need time. I don't say. I'm adamant.

"Hand it over," he says.

I pat a piece of my dress under my eyes. "What?"

"The little note that man gave you."

"What … note?" I ask. I'm not ready for this.

"What's on it?"

"Seriously, what are you talking about? I'm stuck here, horrified and I want to go home. I'm done with code words and lies. This is insane!" I get loud. He grips my chin hard.

"I better not know you're keeping information from me." He shakes me. "So help me, I will lock you up and you will never see the light of day. Do you understand me?"

I'm frozen. His eyes dark as night. Never have I seen him like this. He's desperate. All the men in this place with this grave determination aimed at a target.

I slap his hand away. "Don't you ever touch me like that again. I don't answer to you. Try that shit again and I'll get you so far away from here so fast, your head will spin. Do you understand me, asshole?"

He laughs. "Oh, you'd sic your boyfriend on me?"

"That's right. My bae. My lover." I exaggerate.

He tilts his head. "If that's the case, I'll arrest you for being an accomplice, and that would work out just fine for me."

I roll my eyes. "You know damn well why I'm here. Stop creating conflict for me where there isn't. You're desperate. That's not on me."

He stares daggers.

I widen my arms. "Since when am I the bad guy here? And to think I was actually relieved to see you here." I angrily flick at my chin with a hand, the ache he left there pulses.

He stands back and straightens his suit. No tie, shirt open to his chest, adorned with a gold chain. He pulls on shades.

"Fine. I'll give you time. You'll fess up. And when you're ready, you'll tell me what moves you're making. Because you're good at hiding, but not from trained eyes. I've got you figured out." He points a finger.

I watch him. My stomach in knots.

He continues. "It's up to you. Work with me, or you can forget about this little arrangement, say goodbye to your lover and you're out. That simple."

"You want to know one thing your dumbass hasn't figured out?" I give him this.

"Oh, you think so? What's that?" He crosses his arms over a broad chest. I get close.

"Every McCarthy has already infiltrated this little mission of yours. You are surrounded and you don't even know it. Your Mac and your Bo, and god knows what other chump with a stupid name to go with the façade." I wave my hands. "But you know, do your thing, enjoy the perks," I say with a grin. "Just you wait for the day Emmett comes in and twists your little plot. I'll be sitting back watching with a laugh."

He genuinely looks taken as he glances toward the cacophony of a sick celebration of sin. I walk by him and look back.

"What is it you do anyway?" I dig that last one in.

He grabs me. "Don't fuck with me, Bella. I'll be waiting or I will end your fucking honeymoon."

I roll my eyes but I know he's got me. The list is buried in my dress under my right tit, and It's staying there until I figure things out.

….