Biggest thanks to Mel, May and Meg. I've tweaked so apologies for any mistakes! Thank you to you guys for your patience
Dangerous Game
"I love you like this," Edward says as he nudges my trembling legs apart. Crawling between them, he presses kisses to my inner thighs until his head is resting on my stomach and my hand is reaching to stroke his hair. It's intimate and familiar in a way that I haven't felt in so long; moments like these still catch me off guard even though we've been indulging each other for weeks.
As much as I don't want to admit it, Edward is right. He's different from any other client. I've never wanted to stay with anyone else, but with him, I feel myself unravelling from the rules I've abided by for so long. Lingering and having long conversations before I eventually leave, allowing him glimpses into who I am; my motivations, my desires.
"We should call in sick tomorrow so I can fuck you all day," he murmurs into my stomach, pressing a kiss to just below my belly button.
"That would look very suspicious."
"I know, but it doesn't mean I'm not sorely tempted, especially being away next week." He kisses my stomach again, trailing a pathway up my body, pausing to swirl his tongue around my nipples that peak. I arch into him, a breathy laugh falling from my mouth before he moves to my neck—to my lips—every kiss validating my decision. I've never felt treasured like this. I've never felt less like a sex worker either.
I haven't told Rose yet, imagining she would tell me that this was an incredibly bad idea, but I told Lauren I would no longer be on her books. She wasn't happy about it, but I told her neither was I, especially after what happened with James and the way she mishandled Rose's concerns.
"You seem to be lost in here," Edward says, his fingers brushing my temple. I meet his gaze as he moves a hand to brush hair behind my ear.
"I'm worried you're spoiling me for anyone else," I confess. "When this ends and I go back to how it was before, it's going to be a struggle."
Edward's lips tug into a smirk as he moves to my side, propping his head up on his arm. "So don't go back."
I huff. "It's not as simple as that."
"Surely it is. You'll be able to secure a higher paying position after you finish interning."
"Maybe. I don't know. That's not a given. All I'm saying is that I don't know how much enjoyment there'll be. You're spoiling me."
Dark eyes crinkle with amusement. "Are you falling for me Bella?"
"That would be a very silly thing for me to do."
"It would. And yet I think about you all the time. All the things I want to do with you. To you."
"Now you're just saying things you think I want to hear. Don't complicate this," I warn, throwing up a feeble defense.
"I'm not," he assures me. "To either."
I cup his cheek, the dark shadow lightly sandpapering my thumb as I stroke across it, kissing him chastly.
"Good. Because this is still a transaction. You're still married. You're still my boss. You're still paying me to fuck you."
Saying it out loud is the reminder we both need, because we're already sliding down a slippery slope toward a pool of deep feelings. I know because part of me wants him to say that he wishes he wasn't married at all, that he wants to be with me for me. Instead, all he says with a stoic expression is, "Noted."
I drag myself to the edge of the bed completely naked, knowing his eyes are on me, before wandering into their en suite and starting the shower.
"Are you coming?" I say, sticking my head back around the door.
"No," Edward supplies, an arm thrown up over his eyes. "Transaction complete, apparently."
He waves me away, and I wonder whether my words hurt him. It needed to be said even if part of me doesn't want it to be the reality.
Behind the bathroom door, I spend time looking through cabinets, at medications and half used bottles of expensive skincare products that belong to Tanya, fingers skimming over items in curiosity.
I use the expensive shampoo she left in the shower, a half empty body lotion that smells like vanilla, a cleanser that promises a dewy glow to my skin, and a swipe of organic lip balm. I borrow all of these things, just like I borrow her husband: without much care. The early feelings of guilt have dissipated, eaten up by something bigger—the distraction from the anticipatory grief that's seeping into every thought, apart from the hours I spend with Edward, when it's just on the peripheral.
•
You're so fucking beautiful.
The text glows at me from where I'm sitting in the boardroom, surreptitiously looking at my cell under the table. Stealthily I glance toward where Edward is sitting at the other end of the room by Kate. She leans over to show him something on her laptop, habitually tucking her blonde bob behind her ear as she points her finger at her screen just as his phone fades to black.
We've been doing this dance for almost three months; moving together in the quiet hours of the night, and side stepping each other in the office during the day—tantalizingly out of reach. Edward likes reminding me with messages, just like that one; putting a sway in my step, even if I am just fetching coffee for Jenks.
Stay late, if you can, he texts next, Kate's focus turned to her laptop. I want you.
To be wanted by Edward Cullen is a dangerous thing.
"Got you a muffin," Riley says, dropping into the empty seat next to me and sliding it along the table as I hurriedly turn my phone over. "Blueberry and lemon."
"You're too sweet."
"Well … if you're not going to take me up on my offer of dinner, I may as well bring you a snack. I mean, dinner is better, but I'd take a lunch date."
The earnest expression on his face is hard not to crush, but I do it anyway. "I'm sorry," I say softly. "I'm just not in the right frame of mind for anything like that right now."
It's a gentle reminder for Riley, but it weighs like lead in my own stomach. The inevitability of death wings its way closer, circling like a vulture. The anticipation is smothering, for my dad more than anyone else.
Riley's eyes soften as he reaches out and gives me an awkward half hug where his arm is around my shoulders and he presses me to his side. His warmth envelops me with all the softness of a kind heart and no ulterior motive. For a split second, I melt into it.
"Sorry," he says. "How are you doing?"
"Trying to keep busy here and be strong for everyone at home. For my step-mom and my dad."
"Can't sleep either?"
"Something like that. Why? Do I look as shit as I feel?"
"I don't think you could ever look like shit, Bella. Just look more drained than normal."
"I really am." I smile weakly as Riley squeezes my shoulders again, before removing his arm completely.
Glancing at Edward, I find he and Kate already looking our way. Kate is smiling, and I wonder whether she thinks she's on her way to winning her bet. The features on Edward's face are no longer entirely indecipherable, not when I've had the chance to study him up close and personal for hours on end.
Mine, his face says.
Yours, my heart skips.
Eric comes and sits on my other side as the room fills up with staffers, taunting Riley for not getting him a muffin. Tearing a small chunk off the top of it, I pop it in my mouth and slide the rest over to Eric, who grins at me. Kate stands and welcomes everyone to the monthly town hall. The lights dim, and the PowerPoint presentation of targets, progress, and press begins.
Much later, when the office is down to a skeleton crew, I slip into Edward's office. His mouth is on mine before the door is even closed, a searingly deep kiss that stokes the fire burning deeply inside me for this intoxicating man.
"You're playing such a dangerous game," I whisper into his mouth as I unbuckle his belt.
"And loving every fucking minute of it."
•
The coffee shop closest to the office is small and intimate, with bare brick walls and a metal spiral staircase that leads to a mezzanine level, full of plants, books, and stacks of board games. Most importantly, it has good coffee.
"I'm so freaking jealous!" Angela exclaims, and the few people sitting within earshot turn their heads toward us. She smacks her hand to her mouth and drops her voice an octave. "So, what's the senator like?"
Taking a sip of my mocha, I offer a nonplussed shrug, trying to brush off all the thoughts I do have about him.
Wickedly smart, insanely attractive, and devastatingly good at fucking you senseless.
"He's okay, I suppose. I don't know. We don't spend a lot of time together." The lie rolls easily off my tongue, even though I can still feel the ache from our encounter last night in his office.
Lying to Angela feels somehow much worse than lying to Rose. At least Rose might understand my choices. The granite to Angela's chalk. Rose wouldn't crumble if she knew the truth. Angela would, and I would deserve to lose her as my friend. I already know this, and yet I selfishly carry on engaging with her anyway.
"No, I don't suppose he does, but … just being in the same building as him …" Angela continues wistfully. "And the actual internship?"
"Jenks—that's his press officer—can be a jerk. He's made me get him coffee at least once a day since I began and looks at me like I'm a complete airhead. I actually need to bring some back with me when I leave. One of the other interns comes here for me sometimes. Riley. He's a good guy. Mostly I collate the senator's press together and sit in on strategic direction meetings where they decide if anything needs to be done."
Anglea leans in conspiratorially. "Anything scandalous? There's always something when people seem too good to be true, when their image is so curated. Don't you think?"
"Not really. There were pictures of him on The Hill with a woman that wasn't his wife, but they'd cropped out the rest of the team that was also on their work lunch," I say, praying silently to whatever deity is available that Edward and I remain a secret only shared between us. "Crazy, right?"
"The media is unhinged," Angela agrees. "Writing hit pieces and inducing pile-ons. Some warranted, some not. His poor wife, having to see that."
The mention of Tanya has me biting my tongue, so I move the conversation hurriedly along.
"Mhm. I'll rotate into a different area soon, so hopefully I won't have to think about getting coffee for Jenks ever again."
"And here's me just wanting to make the goddamn coffee."
Instantly I feel bad for complaining. "Sorry. I'm sounding like an ungrateful brat. Any luck on the intern front for you?"
"Not yet," Angela says, in a tone that betrays her anxiety. "I'm doing some temporary work for Ben's dad at the moment in his law firm. It should help my resume, at any rate. I've also been toying with the idea of doing my LSAT next year and going to law school but God knows my parents probably won't foot the bill for that so … catch-22."
"You don't think they'd help you?"
Angela's brow creases, and she starts picking up grains of sugar with the tips of her finger.
"No. So, I need to work and I'm not sure how to juggle work and school if I went down that route. I guess if Ben and I moved in together officially that would cut down on my expenses, but I don't know. He's not really showing any signs of wanting to, even though we've been together almost two years now." She picks up her cappuccino, her mood suddenly far less rosy.
"Hey. Have the conversation," I urge. "Men can be blind to stuff like that. As smart as Ben is, sometimes they don't think like we do."
"Do you think?" She sounds unconvinced.
"Absolutely."
"Maybe you're right." She sighs, her eyes drifting to the man hunched over his MacBook a table over from us. "I just don't want to feel like I'm forcing it on him. Everything always happens so romantically in movies and books, but the reality is quite different. The guy making the moves, doing the pursuing and the woo-ing. Maybe that's my naivety though."
"It's different to the Disney princes we were sold as little girls," I agree. "But you're not naive. We're conditioned from the day we're born. It's not just you."
"What about you? You're always suspiciously quiet on the romance front. Kissed any princes recently?"
Shaking my head, I say, "No. Sadly no princes for me. Or frogs. I've not been close to a pond recently, with my dad." Another lie. "Riley's asked me to dinner but I'm just not in the right mindset for any of that."
"Not good timing," Angela agrees. "How is your dad doing?"
"Oddly, a bit brighter some days. His nurses think he's having a second wind. He's awake more, which is nice. We've been able to go through the memory box I found. It's just really hard knowing he has weeks left."
"He sounds like a wonderful man. I'm so sorry you're going to lose that Bella. If there's anything I can do, let me know."
Tears well behind my eyes.
"He did everything for me after my Mom left, and I've done everything I can for him in return …" I trail off and swallow the lump in my throat. "It's taking its toll, but I wouldn't have it any other way. It's a privilege to care for him these last months."
I reach for Angelas's hand and squeeze it over the table.
"I'm sorry if I've not been a good friend," I add. "You've been so supportive to me and I don't feel like I've reciprocated that at all."
Angela shushes me and with it comes a certain element of relief. "Don't be silly, Bella. Just know I'm here. I know you'd be there if I went through something terrible too. It must be hard to keep everything going. I actually find your determination inspiring."
I smile weakly. "I don't think anything I'm doing or have done is inspirational," I reply truthfully, because if only Angela knew the depths and lengths I've gone to have screwed my moral compass into the ground.
"Apart from being Edward Cullen's intern. Now, that is really where my aspirations lie," Angela confesses, her smile wide.
It makes me laugh, but not because it's funny.
•
Edward is showing a man out of his office when I approach with the tray of coffee for Jenks. I intend to go straight by with a polite smile but instead Edward meets my eyes.
"Do I get one of those?" he quips, nodding his head at my tray of drinks.
"Not unless you want Jason Jenks to be in a bad mood, Senator," I toss back, keeping my heeled steps even as I approach them. "But I suppose you could take one of the interns if you must."
"Whose?" Edward asks as I pause in front of them both.
"Eric's is black, no sugar. Riley is a sadist and is having a double espresso."
Edward grimaces.
"My thoughts, exactly."
Edward looks at the man by his side, who's similar in stature to himself, but unmistakably in his police uniform. A jolt of nervousness straightens my spine as Edward introduces us. "Superintendent Uley, this is one of our interns, Isabella Swan. Isabella, Superintendent Uley."
Juggling the tray, I shake his hand firmly. He studies me carefully. "I don't suppose you're any relation to Charlie Swan? I'm sure he had a daughter."
I can't help the mixture of surprise and elation that flits across my face.
"My dad. Said daughter."
"My finest detective work," he jests before sobering. "I was so very sorry to hear he was moved onto palliative care. I worked with your dad about fifteen years ago, maybe more—can't keep track of the years. But anyway, he was a great cop, but an even better man. Fantastic sense of humor."
"That hasn't changed," I tell him, my smile small. "I'll have to see whether he remembers you. He's—" I cut myself off, feeling my words going woolly. I take a breath. "Well. He's not got long left, although he seems to have perked up the last week or so. If you have time, you're more than welcome to stop by his home. Visits keep his spirits up. He had some of the guys over the other day and it just makes everything more bearable for him."
"I'd be honored. Sorry, Edward, let me steal Isabella for a minute and then she's all yours. Can we use your office?"
Edward nods. "No problem, Sam. Bella, I'll take these to Jenks." He takes the tray from me. "Which one is yours?" he says, as if he hasn't made me one before.
"The flat white."
"Much better. I'll buy you a new one." He disappears as I step back into Edward's office with Superintendent Uley, my eyes linger on Edward's desk, and the memory of what happened in this room yesterday.
Leaning over I tear a page off a jotter pad from Edward's desk, and take a pen from a pot, writing out our address and home phone number as the Superintendent sinks into one of the chairs.
"I worked closely with Charlie a few times," Uley offers. "Bust on a drug ring has to be the highlight. Got him his medal for bravery when we raided the place and they took down his partner. I don't know whether you're old enough to remember that though?"
"Vaguely. I was there when he got his medal. He doesn't like talking about that one though. At least with me. I think he thought it would scare me, seeing that he almost lost Paul. Didn't want to worry me after my mom left. He'll love you talking to him about it though. He reminisces often these days. In fact, now that I think about it, I'm sure your name has come up."
Superintendent Uley smiles. "That means a lot if he remembers. I don't suppose you want to think about it, but when the time comes for the funeral, we'll go the whole nine yards for him for his service."
The thought makes me want to cry. I offer a faint smile as I seat myself opposite him.
"That's very kind. I'll talk to him. Or you can. His wife, Sue, as well. He dedicated his life to the force, so a send-off with honors would be fitting."
I hand him the paper with our address on, and watch as he smooths it between his thumbs and carefully pockets it.
"No trouble at all. Are you enjoying your internship? He always said you were a bright kid."
"I'm finding my feet. The senator and his team have been so accommodating with everything going on at home. It makes a difference."
"I'm sure it does, though I'd expect no less of Edward. He's good people. Just like your father. Interning is hard work with little reward but I expect the pay off from working for Edward will be huge for you. Is your dad proud?"
"Always," I reply a little stiffly, staying seated as Uley stands and squeezes my shoulder. "You take care now, Isabella, and I'll be in touch for a visit with your old man as soon as I can."
"Please do," I intone sincerely.
I wait for the Superintendent's footsteps to fade before I let a lone tear snake its way down my face. Proud. My dad would be anything but proud knowing how I earnt my place working here. He'd be crushingly disappointed. He raised me to be better than my mother, and yet I feel like we could be one and the same.
Staring out the window as the wind sways the trees outside, I hastily wipe my eyes when Edward returns minutes later with a coffee for me, just as he promised. He shuts the door to his office behind him, setting down the steaming cup on his desk. Crouching before me, his face pinches with concern as he catches my watery eyes.
"Hey," he says softly.
"Sorry. I should get back to work," I sniff, reaching for composure.
"I told Jenks you were taking a longer break."
"You didn't need to do that, Edward. I'm fine."
His hand finds my thigh, squeezing it gently.
"I see you," he says. "And I don't think you're fine."
"If I had a dollar for every time someone has alluded to that today …" I close my eyes. How do I tell Edward that I feel like a vessel being swallowed by a raging sea? That I've been pretending to be strong for so long for everyone it's hard to admit that I don't feel fine? Being vulnerable isn't what I do.
"You can talk to me," he says searchingly. "Regardless of everything else."
Swallowing thickly, I raise my eyes to meet his intense gaze.
"No, then," I tell him in one breath. "I'm not okay."
"I'm sorry," Edward murmurs. "What can I do?"
"What are you sorry for? What can anyone do? It's just… impossible. The person I love the most is dying. There's no fix for that. There's no stopping it."
"You need to be with your dad, then. Not spending your days here or your evenings with me. I can give you that time, Bella. There's no pressure from me, I meant what I said. Your family comes first."
"I'm not anywhere I don't want to be or doing anything I don't want to do," I retort. "We've been fighting this for the last few years and sometimes what I need is a reprieve. As awful as that sounds. If my time is spent at work, or with my friends or with you, then that's okay. My dad didn't want me to sit at his bedside twenty-four hours a day watching him die. He made that very clear to me."
"I don't think your dad would want you to be doing what you're doing either," Edward sighs, heavily.
"He'd be devastated," I agree. "But he'll never know. And besides… I enjoy my time with you. Its the distraction I need."
Edward hums, his thumb coming to brush away mascara from underneath my eye. "I can't think why. If you're sure it's what you want. Or need, then I won't feel guilty for keeping you occupied. But only if you're absolutely sure. I don't want you to look back at this time at some point years from now and regret anything."
"I won't," I promise.
Edward hesitates, as if he's debating something. "I have something I want to show you later, if you need another distraction."
I frown at him. "Like what?"
"A surprise."
My frown deepens. Edward gives me enough.
"Don't look so worried. It's a good surprise, I promise."
"I'm not worried. I'm intrigued."
"It's close by. If I give you the address, will you meet me there?"
•
I hear his footsteps approach rather than see him. The deserted parking lot is underground and dimly lit, and for a second, I worry it's not him. Shivering in the cooler evening, I bury my hands in my coat pockets, relieved as Edward greets me from a distance and beckons me to follow him. If anyone saw us, we'd be a respectable distance apart so that it would look innocent enough.
We make our way up in the elevator to the eighth floor of the building, walking down a corridor that smells like fresh paint and new flooring.
"It's a brand new complex," Edward says, fishing in his pocket for keys. "I'm part owner."
My eyebrows rise as he stops at a numbered door, smiling at me slightly as he turns the key in the lock and pushes the door open wide. He gestures for me to go in first, I blindly do so, stepping into an open-plan apartment with half finished floors and incomplete wiring. Even in this state, I can tell it's going to be an amazing space: the waning light, from the floor-to-ceiling windows, the incredible views over the park opposite. The kitchen alone looks highly expensive, even if its cupboards are still covered in protective film.
"Why are you showing this to me?"
Edward closes the door behind him, fidgeting with the key. "I was going to wait until it was finished but … this is yours. If you want it."
"What do you mean, it's mine?" I say dumbly.
"If you want to live in it, it's yours."
"Edward …" I suck in a breath, speechless. "Why?" is all I can muster.
"We're having new surveillance cameras installed at the house," he says matter-of-fact. Then with a touch of humor lacing his voice, he continues, "Our current system kept turning off, surprisingly, and it was noticed. I thought this apartment would be a good alternative. Interiors are scheduled to finish by the end of the week. I can arrange furnishings, or you can pick things out. I don't mind. What do you think?"
Walking around the empty space, I stop and do a slow three-sixty, drinking in the marble countertops in the kitchen and the corridor that must lead to the bedrooms.
"It's the only alternative?"
"I've thought about it. A lot," Edward nods. "Hotels, boats, cars, our family place further south. Nothing else would realistically work."
"But I don't have to move in here?"
"Of course not. But if you want to, it's yours. Ours."
I latch on to the word, and I know he means it in the sense that the space would be solely for our use, for the purpose of me fulfilling his every desire, rather than it being anything more meaningful, but some part of me delights in it regardless.
"It's too much. What about when your wife comes home?" I challenge. "I thought this arrangement was going to finish then. What happens to this place then?" To me, I add silently.
He's suddenly behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist and his head dropping to my shoulder.
"This doesn't have to end."