Sorry for torturing y'all with Edward being gone the last couple of chapters lol I didn't mean to bore y'all! He's back :)

Happy Halloween!

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twenty-five
mine
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The second Jasper leaves, I grab my phone and stop sharing my location with him.

I'd only shared it with him because I was unsure about my safety during my first date with Edward. Now that that's not a concern, Jasper loses that access to me.

For now, I'm done. And not just with the location sharing. I'm done with everything. Jas doesn't get to know shit anymore. I won't continue confiding in him and keeping him in the loop with my life when it's clear I don't get the same consideration.

Maybe I'm being dramatic, but fuck him. He's a brother to me, but tonight, he treated me like a stranger, which hurts.

I stalk into my room, grab my heels, and step into them. I immediately gain three inches of height plus an endorphin rush because they're silver Louboutin pumps lined with studded spike accents. They're both edgy and sexy and fit my rage right now.

While I check my makeup in the mirror, my mind works overtime. I don't even know what Jas could be lying about. If it concerns Rosalie, it's probably something small and irrelevant. Something stupid that will piss me off even more because if he knew anything that could've helped the police, he would've told them.

He should have told them.

I can't entertain the idea that what he's keeping from me would be significant to her case because then I'll crumble, and I don't have the luxury to do that right now.

With my nerves rattled, I move into the kitchen and pour a glass of prosecco, drinking it carefully so as not to mess up my lipstick.

Lucy jumps on the counter, meowing at me.

"Off, girlie." I pick her up and scratch under her chin. "Did you see all of that? Jas is a jerk, huh?"

She meows.

At least she's on my side.

"What are your thoughts on Edward?" I jokingly ask.

She purrs, vibrating in my arms.

Figures.

A knock on the door startles both Lucy and me. I let her down, and she trots out of the kitchen. The realization that Edward's arrival and Jasper's departure were that close gives me a spike of anxiety. It isn't long enough for me to feel prepared to face him after what just happened with Jas, but ready or not, I open the door.

Edward's in a perfectly fitted tux, holding a bouquet of dark red roses.

His hair is tamed but not enough to look polished. His jaw is stubbled, which I find sexier than if he'd shaved. And his eyes are bright but go dark as he takes me in.

"Wow," he exhales.

It's more of a breath, not even the entire word. But it wholly makes my chest ache.

He drinks me in again like the first look wasn't enough and whistles a playful catcall sound when he focuses on the deep V-neck of my dress. There's an amused glint in his eyes, maybe because we talked about how I can't whistle earlier.

"Show off," I chuckle, shaking my head. This little inside joke of ours makes my insides light up.

"I could say the same for you, looking like that. You're beautiful," he compliments. "I built you up in my head, but this is better. You're better."

He's saying too many good things and making me feel too good. I'm smiling too much; his presence makes me feel too at ease.

Fuck.

This is real.

This feeling.

The way he's looking at me.

His sudden presence in my life is overshadowing all of the loss. The gain of him is making things feel whole and less cynical. It's making me softer. It's making me think I can have things like this: a man who could love me. Someone to love. To share my life with. To rely on.

Even if this feels real, I know it cannot be. And I want to revel in the pretend a little longer.

"You look so handsome," I whisper. "From now on, I'm gonna need you to wear a tux at least once a week, okay?"

His smile is tender. "These are for you," he says, handing me the flowers, and I thank him. "There's a reason why there are only five roses, if you were wondering."

"Hmm. You couldn't afford a dozen?" I tease.

His eyes spark with humor. "Funny."

"Or wait, do they represent our five-day anniversary?" I joke again. "Aww, baby, you shouldn't have."

He smirks at the pet name. "Five roses for the five days I didn't reach out after our first kiss," he explains.

"Edward." I give him a look. "You didn't have to. I was giving you a hard time when we talked this morning."

"I know. But it was a shit move from me. Especially since you were on my mind the entire week, so." With a sincere gaze, he murmurs, "Forgive me?"

"You don't need to be sorry."

Still standing in the doorway, I step closer and hug him. His strong arms wrap around my waist, his fingers grazing the exposed skin of my back. We hug tightly for a moment, and he presses a soft, hot kiss on my bare shoulder, making me shiver.

I feel Lucy at my feet before I see her, squeezing between our legs. We break apart and stare down at her.

"Ahh, so we meet in the flesh," Edward says to her, his voice teasing.

Lucy rubs up against his slacks.

"Sorry," I tell him. "I can grab a lint roller if you need to get any hair off you."

"It's fine." He crouches down to scratch her little head, picks her up, and stands. "You're pretty cute, huh?" He asks her, and she meows. "Oh, I'm getting grilled, huh? My intentions tonight are mostly honorable, I promise." I smile, and she meows again, pawing at his sharp jaw. "I fully understand if I hurt Bella, you'll claw my eyes out, yes. Got it."

"Shush," I laugh. "Lucy is a lover, not a fighter."

"What about you?" he asks, making my stomach clench with desire.

"Guess you'll have to find out." I swallow. "Wait right here, I'm gonna put these in water."

I feel bad leaving him on the porch, but I didn't anticipate him coming in because I was so preoccupied earlier with everything happening. I'm unsure what he'll see that could link me to Rosalie. While I fill a vase in the kitchen, I mentally inventory the living room. I know an old family photo is on the bookshelf, but there's no guarantee he'd see it. Still, it feels like I'm playing with fire right now.

I leave the flowers in water on the counter and hurry back to him, finding him still in the doorway with Lucy in his arms.

"I think I'm a little jealous," I tease. "Lucy's getting all the love."

Edward grins and sets her down. He briefly looks around, but not too closely. "You said you have a roommate, right?"

I hesitate. "Yeah. He's not here right now."

"He, huh? Should I be jealous?" he jokes, but there's something in his eyes and his voice that feels very non-joking and territorial, and fuck, I love it.

"No," I laugh nervously. "I live with my cousin, so definitely not."

"Ah. Got it." He exhales an awkward chuckle. "Do you have a coat or anything?"

"I wasn't going to bring one. Do I need to cover up more?"

"No, but are you going to be cold?"

"I have you to warm me up."

He presses his lips into a cute smile and holds out a hand. "Ready?"

I slide my clutch under my arm and thread my fingers with his. We keep holding hands while I lock the front door. We hold hands to the car. He opens the door and lets me slide in first, our palms staying clasped then, too.

The only time we break apart is when we do our seatbelts. I slip my keys into my small purse, and he reaches for my hand again as Pete pulls away from the curb.

We sit in silence for a minute. The car's movement makes my head spin slightly, and I roll down the window an inch.

"You good?" Edward asks. "Did I overdo it with the cologne?"

"No. You smell good." His warm, spicy scent is starting to smell familiar, which is another reason to feel sick. "I drank some champagne while getting ready," I tell him. "I'm not drunk, but I'm not sober. So I'll need help stealing all the hors d'oeuvres when we arrive."

"You got it," he agrees. "You feel okay, though?"

"Yeah. I was nervous, I guess, which is why I started drinking early."

His brows knit together so adorably. "Nervous? Why?"

"Because…" Where do I fucking start? "I think I like you more than I've let on."

"Oh. That's awful for you," he teases.

I laugh a little. "Yeah. Tragic. Poor, poor me."

With our hands still clasped, his thumb brushes over my skin. "So, you were nervous. And how do you feel now?"

"Lots of fluttering in my stomach. Light headed. Racing heart."

"Ahh. All the telltale signs of attraction," he muses, leaning in. "I think I know what might help your symptoms."

"There's a cure?" I ask, playing along.

"Maybe not so much a cure, but…" His eyes bounce to my mouth. "Exposure therapy helps."

"And what does that entail, Doctor?"

A soft, sexy smile plays on his lips. "Immersing yourself in the very thing that's making you feel this way."

"Wow, sounds very holistic. And dangerous. Is that typically your approach?"

"No, but treatment plans vary from patient to patient," he says. "But sometimes there are side effects. Like falling harder for the person. So beware."

I fight a smile. "Yeah, that would be hard to deal with. I'm already struggling, so I can't imagine it."

"And full disclosure, I would reap the benefits of your exposure therapy."

"I appreciate the honesty. Are you going to kiss me now, or are you going to keep making me suffer?"

His smile turns wicked, his eyes dancing with elation and desire. "I don't want to ruin your lipstick."

"I appreciate the consideration, but I can reapply it."

"Well, in that case…"

He leans further in and captures my mouth in a soft, sweet kiss. It's not deep or passionate, which I realize is what I crave when he pulls away. But it's appropriate with Pete in the front seat.

After we kiss, he keeps his face close and raises his hand to cup my cheek, his thumb caressing my skin.

"The downside to having a driver," I whisper. "Chaste kisses."

"Ah, fuck," he laughs lowly.

It's tempting to go for another peck, so I do.

My nerves fade.

But my pulse picks up.

When we break apart again, he murmurs, "Feeling better?"

"Worse," I sigh, wiping lipstick away from his bottom lip. "Way, way worse."

He smiles. "Good."

XXX

When Pete parks and says we've arrived, I peer out the window, confused. It looks like we're at an abandoned industrial warehouse.

"You sure this is the place?" I ask Edward.

"No. Are you afraid?"

His expression remains smooth and serene before he exits the car and walks around to open my door.

He holds out his hand—a challenge. I catch the playfulness in his eyes, though.

I stand by what I told Jasper: Edward is not the bad guy.

So no, I'm not afraid. Besides, we're in the heart of Queen Anne, not in the middle of nowhere. I can see the Space Needle out my window. And knowing the venue is aptly called The Ruins makes me feel better about its dreary, dilapidated appearance.

I answer him by placing my hand in his and getting out of the car.

As we walk around the building, he keeps my hand in his and guides me to stand in a short line of people waiting to get inside. I'm unsure how these other guests know where to enter because there's no obvious sign, and it doesn't look like a front entrance.

"Oh," I say to Edward, remembering the night's theme. "Speakeasy."

"Yes. I promise I'm not taking you to an abandoned warehouse," he jokes, snaking his arm around my waist and gently squeezing my hip.

"Names?" the attendant asks.

"Edward Cullen and Bella Swan," Edward smoothly answers, saying our names together for the first time.

While the attendant checks the list, I worry he'll ask for our IDs. I'm not sure why I didn't think of this. An event I attended last year did ID people, but maybe that's because some dignitaries were present, which was a security precaution.

I'm not sure what to do right now. I can't hand over my license with a name that doesn't match the one Edward gave him. Thankfully, I don't have to because the attendant finds our names, hands over a bidding paddle, and lets us in without so much a glance.

I've dodged a second bullet tonight, but my luck has to be running out.

We walk past the attendant into an open, leafy courtyard. Lights are strung up, and gurgling fountains add to the ancient aesthetic. There's another building up ahead, but this one doesn't look dilapidated—its style is vintage, almost European. Like someplace we'd find in Paris.

"How speakeasy of them. A building within a building," I remark, but I am impressed and excited.

As we get closer, we can hear music playing from inside. It sounds like live jazz, which ups the wow factor for tonight.

When we walk through this door, we get transformed into another universe. Another time.

The space is classically French in that it's offensively chic. The lighting is dim, moody, and romantic, with multiple chandeliers. The coffered ceiling and wall of gilded mirrors add a regal feel. The space is all broken whites and delicate beige. The outside doesn't match the inside, but that's the point.

"I'm obsessed," I tell Edward, in awe of the decor. "Seriously. I'm in love."

He laughs softly. "I thought you might like it here."

Before we get far, another attendant greets us and gives us the ins and outs of the night. She tells us this is the silent auction area and that beyond here, we'll find the main ballroom where dinner and dancing will occur. From there, we'll see a bar, a separate room with casino games, and another where a psychic is doing palm readings.

When she finishes her spiel, she moves on to welcome another couple. Edward and I people-watch for a moment as guests mill around, mingling with champagne and small plates of food in hand.

"Are you going to bid on anything?" I ask, eyeing the tables lining the border of the room.

In the soft light, I see his eyes twinkle. "I skimmed the list earlier. There's a trip for two to Aruba that looked intriguing."

I hum. "Have you ever been?"

"No. Wanna go?"

I laugh, already caught up in the ambiance of the night. It feels like anything can happen. It's a dangerous, delicious, deceptive feeling.

"Seriously?" I ask.

A waiter walks by, and Edward grabs two glasses of champagne.

"Why not?" he asks, handing me some bubbly.

I sip from the flute despite needing food. "Because we just met a couple of weeks ago, and you want to leave the country with me."

He bites back a sexy grin. "So? What better way to get to know one another."

"In the Caribbean," I clarify.

He swigs from his glass. "Exactly. We can get drunk on the beach. Watch the sunset. I bet you look really cute with a tan. And even better in a bikini…" he trails off, his voice lower as his eyes rake my body. "Besides, I'm due for a vacation."

"You just went back to work after being on a leave of absence."

"Exactly," he says again. "That wasn't for fun. It was for my sanity. I need some time to relax."

"Well, best of luck to you in the silent auction."

He laughs. "What, you don't think I'll win?"

"I have no idea. Maybe someone wants it more than you."

"Ah. Doubt it. I fucking want it the most."

His words and tone are loaded with lust, and heat crawls from my chest to my cheeks.

Another waiter passes by, and Edward stops him to grab two of whatever's on his tray. He hands me one of the puff pastries filled with savory meat. When I finish that one, he gives me the other, which I happily devour.

We walk around, perusing the silent auction items. When we find the one for Aruba, he smirks and scribbles his name down as the next bidder, along with an obscene price for that trip.

"Why would you bid that?" I ask, shocked.

"So no one else tops it."

"We could go to Aruba for less than that," I tell him. "We could go to the fucking moon for less than that."

"So? It's for a good cause."

"Edward. Are you… are you lovebombing me?" I ask because I might be tipsy, and it feels like he's doing just that.

He laughs, eyeing me. "Lovebombing? What do you mean?"

"Manipulating me. Showering me with extravagant gifts and affection. Coercing me into wanting to be with you?"

He looks confused but not offended. "Do you need coercing?" he jokes. "But no, I thought this was just dating. I'm not trying to manipulate you. I just… I like you, Bella," he says, soft and sincere.

I melt. How can I not? "I like you, too."

"I haven't felt this way in a long fucking time. Maybe ever. And I know that sounds…" He exhales, laughing. "Fuck, it sounds pathetic, huh? And maybe it puts some pressure on you, but I swear I don't expect anything from you."

"It's not pathetic," I reassure him. "You're pretty fucking perfect, which is... scary."

"There's shit in my past that has kept me from this, I guess. So, I might be going over the top, but I promise I mean it. I'm not trying to trick you or seem sketchy."

The word past goes off like an alarm in my head.

"What kind of stuff in your past?" I ask.

"Like… things I don't necessarily want to talk about right now. Not while we're here. I want to have a good night. I want to enjoy you. That's all. But if I win the trip, you don't have to go. No pressure, okay?"

There's no pressure at all to go to Aruba with him. If anything, it sounds like a fucking dream. But of course, I can't go with him. That's ridiculous.

"So, what—you'd just go alone?" I ask rhetorically. "Or take someone else?"

I'm all over the place. A second ago, I just accused Edward of lovebombing me. Now I'm feeling jealous he'd take another woman.

He holds eye contact and says, "There's no one else I'd want to take. And I'm not saying that to play mind games with you." He shrugs. "It's just the truth."

Warmed by his vulnerability, I feel slightly guilty that I assumed he was being anything but genuine.

I tip my head up and tenderly kiss his lips as an apology.

He slides his arm around my waist, and we leave the silent auction area and move into the circular ballroom where the band is playing. Tables and chairs are extravagantly set up for dinner, and chandeliers hang from the muraled ceiling. We stand to the side, admiring the scene and people-watching yet again.

"Should we check out the psychic?" I ask.

"I'm more interested in dancing with you."

"You know how to dance?" I ask, pleasantly surprised.

"I know how to spin you and sway us in place. Does that count?"

He takes my hand, twirls me around, then pulls me to him until we're flush without spilling champagne.

With our bodies close, I stare up at him. "You are a man of many talents, huh?"

He grins, and we kiss again like the only two here. Like we're not in a ballroom full of people. Like we don't feel people staring.

When we break apart, his eyes dart past me. Surprise, recognition, and a little uncertainty flash in his gaze. It's tempting to look at who he's spotted, but I'm too focused on his handsome face.

"We might need a raincheck on that dance," he says, his tone indecipherable.

"Why?"

"Well, don't panic, but my parents are here."