Huge thanks to Meg, May and Mel for all their help and support. This is a beast of a chapter but in my author group (Here for the Tea on facebook) the vote was overwhelmingly for not splitting it.

Chapter 17

Contaminated

" You memorized the lines of my thighs

I knew before you told me you'd get it right

And you took the dark for granted

And you love me like you promised your wife

It's almost like you planned it in the daylight " - Banks

•

"Don't lie to me," I whisper, fingers trembling as I touch my bottom lip. "It's cruel."

"What's cruel is never being able to hold your hand walking down the street for coffee. What's cruel is never being able to take you out on a date. What's cruel is having to pretend you don't exist to me in the way that you do; when I think about you all the goddamn time, Bella. I wouldn't lie to you. Not about this."

He opens his mouth to say something else, but I stop him with a plea that comes out as more of a cry, my hand raised to his chest. "Stop. Just—No."

I heave a breath through kiss-softened lips, closing my eyes, squeezing them shut so tightly a tear tracks down my cheek.

He loves me.

The deep sigh that slips from Edward's mouth forces my eyes to snap open. Bringing his hand to my face, the pad of his thumb brushes the drop away as I desperately search his face for any indication he's lying. All I see is a resolute intent set into the lines of his frowning face.

"Not exactly the reaction I was after," he murmurs dryly.

"This wasn't supposed to happen. I warned you," I croak.

"No," he agrees. "But you have to know."

Picking up my wineglass, I take a healthy mouthful, swallowing it down in an attempt to numb the deep sense of fear I have over this very situation.

He loves me.

He's leaving his wife.

And whether he's doing that for him or because of me is a distinction that doesn't quite seem to matter right now.

He loves me.

I chant it in my head, so many times I feel the disbelief give way to the feeling I've tried to avoid; the one that hums incessantly under my skin and in my heart since I met him. Rolling the stem of the glass between my fingers, I steadfastly examine the way my dark red gel manicure reflects the spotlights above my head. I've not just been lying to everyone else, I've been lying to myself too.

"I don't expect you to feel the same," Edward says, in the metaphorical distance that's grown between us. "Not right now, but at some point I want to be worthy of those words from you."

Love is a funny word. It doesn't mean anything if you don't feel it. I felt loved by my dad. I feel loved by Sue. By Rose. But love in its most romantic form—I've never felt it. Is it this? Where everything about me not being with him is painful, and when I am with him, everything feels just right? Or is it in those moments where we're so caught up in each other I don't think I could ever give myself so readily to another person again? Or is it all of those things? To accept someone despite their flaws and their baggage?

Letting myself love someone is difficult, and letting myself be loved by someone else feels hopeless because they'd have to know about how morally gray I am. How I've lived my life for the last few years. Edward already knows some of that. He already accepts the things he knows about—a lot more than I've ever told anyone, apart from Rose … but not everything.

"You love me?" I query with zero confidence, the tip of my finger coming to circle the rim of my glass. "Let's say that's true …" I sniff, focusing on him as I bring the back of my hand to wipe the tears that continue to spill down my cheeks. "Would it still be true if I told you I slept with four clients in one day? Or about the men that had me at the same time? That I had sex with a client while their friends watched? Would you still love me if I told you I've been with a man twice your age? Or that I've had to take Plan B a few times because the condom broke and even though I'm on birth control I wanted to make sure? Or the fact I've been treated for an STI? Does any of that make you love me, Edward? Because I don't love myself for any of those things."

Edward doesn't flinch. His jaw feathers, his cheek inflecting as he chews over the unsavory truth.

"You're not the only one out there with a checkered past," he counters.

"Of course not." I scoff. "But I put a price on myself so I could be bought. I lied when I said I had no regrets. If it comes out, all of those experiences will taint you too. And it will. You know more than anyone how relentless the press is. You want to leave your wife who can do no wrong in the eyes of the public, and if we end up together, I will be a downgrade. How could someone like you love someone like me?"

"You're focusing solely on what you've done and not your reasons for doing it. That shows how far you go for the people you care about. You didn't go into it willingly regardless of what you think. You didn't do it because you're an addict looking to make money for your next fix. You did it because you wanted to help your dad. It's infuriating to me that that is what you had to do to feel like you gave him every chance, but it's also so fucking selfless I could shake you."

"I don't think it makes a difference why. All people will pick up on is that I let men fuck me for money. I'm a whore. Nuances do not matter. Even you hesitated when we met."

"I didn't hesitate because you were an escort, Bella," he says impatiently. "I hesitated because you stole every rational thought out of my head before you even opened that mouth. And when you did, I knew I was fucked. Escort or not." His voice lowers. "What would you have me do? Pretend that I don't feel this way?"

"I don't know. I don't think there's a good answer for that." My tongue wets my lips as I shake my head. "You were right that night. I've been naive about the consequences. That didn't seem to matter then because that was before I met you. You were the first to challenge me on it. You were the first to show interest in me as a person and not just an object." The words are on the tip of my tongue, my voice dipping as the tears gather hot behind my lashes and my voice breaks. Crying, I tell him, "I never ever thought I'd meet you again, let alone fall in love with you too."

He reaches for me, hands warm on my hips as he tugs me toward him so we're flush. "Baby," he breathes as he rests his forehead against mine. "Say it again."

I swallow thickly, more nervous this time.

"I love you."

Edward savors those three words quietly before his lips meet mine. He kisses the salty tang of tears off them; writing promises with his mouth as the intensity grows. "You'd have met me again," he assures me. "The thought of you drove me crazy enough to make sure of it."

"A little bit stalker-ish how you went about it," I admit with the smallest of laughs, wiping at my eyes.

"A whole lot of stalking. A little coercion. The pursuit of happiness." His smile is wry as he tucks my hair behind my ear. His voice lowers. Calm and measured, he says, "I don't give a fuck about before. I care about now. You can try and shock me with your past, but I don't think it'll work. Let me love you. The past you, the present you, the future you. I want them all."

I don't answer him; instead I return to my tiptoes, winding my arms around the neck of the man who professes to love me in spite of it all. Crushing his mouth to mine, he wraps me tightly in his arms and holds me against him, before he lifts me up onto the counter and buries his head in the crook of my neck. We stay like that for what feels like an age, cocooned in this moment.

"I'm scared," I admit quietly, hand running through his hair. "I've never felt like this before."

"I know."

"What now? You'll just … file for divorce, just like that?"

"If only it were that simple." He swallows, throat bobbing. "This will be the hard part … Relationship drama isn't the optics anyone would want going into the final six weeks of an election. So after that … after that's all done, and I've won my second term, I'll file for divorce."

"Six weeks—"

"She's leaving on Wednesday for a month. Back for the last two weeks of the campaign." He visibly grimaces.

"Will you tell her about me? Us?"

He hesitates. "I don't think telling her would do any good, to anyone. Neither do I think it would be wise to go public before you're done interning for me. But when I've been single in the public eye for a while, after you've finished interning, we can date without the scrutiny. You won't have been working as an escort for a year so any chatter should be minimal. If your clients wanted discretion, then I would think they wouldn't come forward and out themselves. And in the meantime … we can carry on as we are."

The thought of him with Tanya for the next few days, let alone until after the election is over is almost unbearable. But really what other choice do we have? Loving him means valuing his career, and if he doesn't keep up pretenses, we might be found out sooner rather than later. That could very well be catastrophic. I say nothing because it makes sense, even if I don't like it. I kiss along his jawline, each one a silent acceptance.

"And when the press—your family, your friends—finds out the truth?" I challenge. "When they hate me—"

"I'll be there. It's nothing I won't handle, or be at your side for. We can control the narrative," he assures me. "And no one will hate you. They won't know your history."

"Apart from Emmett," I remind him.

Edward considers me for a split second before rubbing at his face. "He knows."

"Of course he knows."

Edward takes my hand, weaving his fingers through mine. "No. He knows about us, not just about you. This. He suggested it. Made the call to your agency that got us alone in that hotel room. You didn't really think I pretended to be him to your agency, did you?"

"What?" I say dumbly, starting to see that encounter in a whole new light. "Why didn't you say something before? I always thought you did—especially after the lecture."

"It didn't seem important."

Tossing over the situation in my head, I eventually agree. In the grand scheme of things, it changes nothing.

"What does he think now?" I stress. "How much does he know?"

"Not everything. Not how I feel. He won't say anything though either way."

"So that's one person at least," I mumble. The rest?

A flip-book of men I've been with rears its head. Pages of sordid stories spilled in print. The implications. I'm the worst thing that could happen to Edward and his career. I could so very easily destroy him, the reputation he has. But selfishly I still want him regardless. I want us. I want a future with him, where I'm not hidden away and our love isn't limited to clandestine moments.

"It's all going to work out." It sounds like a promise, his lips against mine in a searing kiss, lifting me to him as he carries me with intent into our room. The weight of him settles in between my thighs, the hardness of him pressing against my core through my thin leggings. My hips roll, my back arching as he takes his time; painstakingly strips every last piece of clothing off me, tenderness in every caress.

"Please, don't break my heart," I warn him before he pushes inside me, my eyes searching his face imploringly. "I've been through enough."

He pins my hand above my head, weaving his fingers with mine, surging forward, as I moan.

"I promise."

•

"Bella," Jenks says tersely. "You're required."

I glance up from my laptop, noting the look of complete and utter loathing on his face. The office is quiet, but it's barely nine on a Tuesday morning and far too early for me to be dealing with his unpleasantness. Obviously, all the coffee runs I've done for him have earned me no favors here.

"Sure. What for?" I ask, a pang of apprehension stalling me as I rise to my feet and lock my screen.

"You'll see." Jenks starts to walk away and I'm left exchanging a bewildered look with Riley over the top of his laptop screen. I smooth down my hair, pull at my dress, noting Riley's eyes travelling over me.

"What have you done?" he says conspiratorially, eyebrow rising into sandy blond hair.

"I'm sure I'll know in a minute. Hopefully nothing that gets me fired."

"We'll send a search party if you're not back in thirty minutes," he quips. "He looks practically murderous."

Dutifully I follow Jenks down the corridor as he strides ahead, bald head shining under the lights, as dread settles in my stomach. If someone has found out about my previous late-night proclivities that would be bad, but if someone has discovered mine and Edward's affair that would be catastrophically worse.

Jenks leads me to the smaller conference room, barrelling through the door without waiting for me. Edward and the rest of the press team sit around the oval table, harsh lighting illuminating every tired face: the election trail does no favors.

"Don't panic," I hear Edward say calmly as my eyes finally fix on the TMZ article on the screen at the front of the room, large black typeface announcing:

Stunning Staffer Captures Senator's Attention.

Underneath are stills of Edward and me walking down the street last week and—fuck.

I sink into the nearest available chair, my breath caught in my lungs.

I know how it feels to have Edward look at me like that—like he wants me—but having it captured and splashed across the media is a huge fucking problem.

Glancing around warily, I find no one else surprised, not even Edward. Their attention is on me, not on what's showing on the screen. They've obviously had time to digest. The shock on my face is real enough, the alarm too.

Jenks hits play on a video of us walking together, slowed down to show the way Edward stops and looks at me … the reach of his hand. It could be innocent, but the opinions in the comments don't seem to think so.

Jenks takes it upon himself to read some of them out loud, voice dripping with disdain.

I die inside a little with each one.

"10/10 would smash until i pass out" is unfortunately the most upvoted comment closely followed by:

if he looked at me like that **I** would pass out

i can feel the sexual tension from here

and then:

his wife should get with her costar so these two can be end game.

and the most accurate one:

he's in love with her.

"God," I mutter, putting my head in my hands. "These people are delusional."

"Got to love the press," Edward says, nonchalantly. "Should we admit our undying love and plans to run away together now, Bella, or?" He throws me a wink from across the table.

He did not. The room titters as I glower.

"Sorry, Senator, I'm just not that into you."

"Ouch."

Jenks' glare is frosty as it lands on me and bounces back to Edward, rubbing just over his heart, a wicked grin on his face.

"This isn't funny, Edward," he says irritably. "It doesn't lend itself to the ongoing narrative that your marriage is in trouble when your caught looking at her like that and there's photos of you and Tanya looking like you're about to rip each other's heads off. Jane has been blowing up my cell since this was published. Can you at least try to look happy with the woman you married?"

Wide-eyed, I take in Jenks—the vein bulging in his temple, the sweat on his brow, the heavy, hard breathing—and I wonder if he knew the truth whether his whole head would explode. As if he senses me staring, he turns his ire on me.

"I'm now fielding calls about who exactly you are, Isabella. As an intern, your not supposed to be a distraction. Instead of focusing on Edward's work with minority faiths, and his incredibly successful weekend, we now have you two being debated on every social media platform. Keep your distance from Edward going forward; we don't need this to railroad the campaign, or overshadow it in any way."

My mouth presses into a thin line to hide the smile that wants to burst free. Keep my distance? If only he knew.

"Sure," I say, and more meekly because it's what someone in my position would do in normal circumstances: I offer an apology, my eyes tearing up. "I didn't mean to cause any problems. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Edward tells me directly. "I talk to all my staff, interns or not. We all know that any picture or video can be used to push whatever narrative they think will sell. Did they publish any pictures of me walking with the other interns? No. Before it was Carmen, next month it'll be Kate or Irina or someone else. None of which is their fault for existing and having a conversation with me that I instigated."

"But—"

"Enough, Jenks. We were having a conversation, in public, with other staff around. Jane and Tanya have already arranged for a pap walk at the airport when Tan leaves on Wednesday. I promise I'll be a good boy and smile. My marriage isn't a concern for anyone apart from Tanya and myself."

"It is when it's integral to your brand, Edward. To you winning. You're the golden couple, and the shine will eventually wear off if you don't put these rumors to bed once and for all. You're just giving ammunition to Jake Black at this point. Put out a damn statement. Deny the speculation," Jenks urges as my stomach rolls.

"No." Edward stands, looking at his Rolex. "I've got a call I need to make—"

"Because there's a problem?" Jenks challenges.

Edward adjusts his suit jacket without answering Jenks.

"Edward—"

"Bella." He meets my eyes, and there's the warmth of the man I know. "I apologize for bringing you unwanted attention. It'll be old news by the end of the week. The team has been instructed to only confirm you're a member of staff, no other details."

Reassurance, just when I need it.

"Thank you."

As soon as he leaves, the room breaks out into hushed whispers.

"So there is a problem?" Irina asks.

"Or he's just sick of answering the same question, over and over again," Marcus jumps in. "I'd be sick of it too. He's right. It's none of our business."

"We carry on pushing the narrative that his relationship is fine," Jenks instructs. His unfriendly gaze lands on me as I take in the replay of the video on the screen behind him. The heat simmering in the moment just before he opens the door for me when his gaze drops to my lips and he looks like he wants to devour me whole.

•

Tanya is standing in the hallway talking to Kate when I leave the room. She sees me and openly falters, her gaze narrowing. Kate briefly looks at me, her smile tight; she touches Tanya's arm—friendly and comforting. Of course they're friends; Kate has known Tanya for years through her husband. Maybe they spend the holidays together. My stomach flips uncomfortably—knowing I'll be taking that place soon enough.

If I had the guts, I'd go over and actually apologize. Help put any doubt to the back of her mind. Tell her that we were talking about work, or some other lame excuse, but I don't owe her that. And I can't bring myself to willingly lie to her face, so I walk away, slinking back to my desk with the attention of the office squarely on me.

I don't have time to entertain the curious glances though; I have bigger things to be worried about, like clients coming forward after recognizing me. That is a problem. Surely it's only a matter of time, and even though there's no proof—just their word against mine—it's of little comfort.

I end up re-reading the article on my phone in a toilet stall; this time alone, examining our facial expressions, our body language, whether it looks like we have intimate knowledge of each other. We've never taken a photo together, but we look … balanced. Edward's tall, but in my heels, the top of my head hits just under his chin.

The article underneath makes a point too. Trouble in paradise? Senator Edward Cullen and Tanya Denali look tense as they dine together after months apart.

Jenks was right about that. Edward looks annoyed and Tanya is sullen and sour faced as they're pictured outside a restaurant, on a terrace with drinks. It's not a surprise the rumors have exploded when they look so unhappy together.

•

Unfortunately for me, Tanya is standing off to the side of the hand dryer with her arms crossed over her chest when I come out of my stall. I raise an eyebrow as I wash my hands under scalding hot water, waiting for her to say … whatever she came here to say. At first she just watches as I reach for the soap dispenser and lather my hands, washing off the soap. It's as if she's not sure what she's doing. Taking a paper towel to dry my hands off, my heart beats loud in my ears, so fast it skips. Someone is going to have to say something.

"We've been married eight years and this was the first time I did something solely for me, you know?" she finally says, with a sad smile. "I took roles that were in this country, or very short shoots in Europe, so that I could be around to support him and his career. I wanted to do something to develop myself. And God, I just missed home. I love the US, but nothing beats home. He was supposed to fly out last month—and he cancelled the trip out of nowhere. I couldn't believe it. Jake Black hadn't even been confirmed yet. It was really … really unexpected. Then this morning, I wake up to that video and my husband is looking at you like he looks at me, and I have to ask you, woman to woman, if anything is going on?"

Her eyes are brimming with tears, and in that moment, I feel like the truly terrible person I am.

"Not at all." I force myself to meet her eyes, pouring sincerity there with every treacherous word. "I'm mortified. The last thing I want when I'm taking the first steps into a career I've worked hard for is for people to insinuate I'm only here because of how I look. Or because my boss is interested in me. That's not the case."

Tanya takes her time assessing me; my words, my demeanor. I know she believes me when her shoulders finally slump in acceptance.

"What were you two talking about? Out of curiosity? It looked intense."

"My dad, actually. He died a few weeks ago. Cancer. Edward's been very kind to me These last few months have been really hard. Apart from that, a little bit about work, how I'm getting on… Honestly, not really an interesting conversation."

"He's like that. He cares." She fidgets with the diamond pendant on a gold chain around her neck. "I'm so sorry for your loss, and accosting you like this. What you must think." She shakes curled blonde hair out of her eyes. "Sometimes the paranoia kicks in and you start to doubt yourself. Even after years of dealing with the press and people throwing themselves at him. Being so far away doesn't help. I've missed him every day, and dealing with the constant speculation takes its toll. I'm just freaking out, I guess. I should feel reassured this week but—" She frowns. "He's different. Loving, but different. Sometimes it feels like he's not even in the room with me."

Loving.

My throat bobs. "It must be hard. Perhaps it's the stress from the election," I console gently.

"Perhaps." She sniffs and presses a button on her cell to check the time. Her lockscreen is of them, on their wedding day. "I better go. I've got a hair appointment this morning. Sorry again for this. If you get hounded by the press, just ask Kate to give you Jane's number. She's my publicist."

"Oh. I don't think I'll need that."

"You never know. You could ditch the internship and land yourself on Too Hot to Handle. Reality TV stardom. People have used their fifteen minutes for less." She laughs.

"That's not really my thing," I tell her quietly.

"Not mine either." She gives me a small smile and leaves.

Leaning forward, I steady myself using the basin, gripping the sides as I blow out a breath and look at myself in the mirror, trying to remember what life was like when I wasn't a homewrecker.

•

"You're insane," I hiss as Edward catches me just as I'm leaving to meet up with Angela, pulling me into his office. The door rocks as it closes behind us, his mouth and hands landing hot and wanting. "This day has been an unmitigated disaster. If anyone catches us now—"

"Everyone's gone. And I don't know about that. I thought we looked really fucking good together."

"Tanya cornered me in the restroom this morning," I tell him.

He stills, finally letting me go as I step fully into his office. Setting my bag and coat on his desk, I straighten my navy blue dress. When I turn to face him, he looks curious.

"What did she say?"

"She asked me whether there was anything going on between us. I had to lie to her face, Edward. She said she felt paranoid. She asked what we were talking about for it to look so intense. I had to tell her some bullshit about my dad and work events." I sigh heavily. "It wasn't a good feeling. Don't you ever feel guilty?"

"Not as much as I should," he admits. "I'm sorry," he says, and I believe him. "It's not long until the election, and then you won't have to deal with her."

"Maybe we should wait until then." I throw it out there, completely serious, but he just laughs.

"I wouldn't be able to keep away from you for six weeks." He presses a chaste kiss to my lips.

"No? You're going to be so busy anyway."

"No," he says firmly, kissing me again, walking me back until solid wall is behind my back. My arms wind around his neck, fingers tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Do I capture your attention, Senator?" I breathe.

"The world could be burning and I'd still be looking at you."

"I love the way you look at me. We did look good together," I admit.

"I know," he says. "You're devastating."

"And trashy," I quip, remembering some of the not so nice comments. "And I definitely need to eat something. And I look like a dollar store version of—who was it? Phoebe Tonkin? Wonderous for my self-esteem."

"Pure jealousy," he murmurs as his hands roam my body, and even though I'm annoyed, it's not enough to stop his touch from making the heat explode in the pit of my stomach.

"It's only been a day," I say, arching into him. "Maybe six weeks is too much."

"It's too long," he confirms as he cups my breasts. "Let me make you feel good, Bella." He lifts me up, my legs wrapping around his waist. I push my hips into him and roll them, grinding against him with only the thin material of my thong between us. He's already rock hard.

Sex like this is always hot and dirty. My dress pushed up, my back braced against the wall, thighs squeezing his hips, panties pulled to the side as he thrusts into me relentlessly.

It's desperate. Needy.

He covers my mouth with his hand. "Shh," he breathes in my ear as voices outside the room grow closer. He grunts as I tense around his cock.

There's a polite knock on the door.

"Edward?" Kate.

"Be a minute, just finishing up something," he tosses right back, calm, his voice unhindered. The thought of getting caught makes me inexplicably wetter. I arch and push greedily, tingling as I get closer and closer. "Oh fuck," I whisper, my teeth sinking into his hand as I shatter in his arms. He groans as I ride the crest follows, a rush of air expelled slowly against my neck. Dipping his head, he kisses me deeply.

Seconds later, my eyes widen in horror as the door handle turns. Edward's eyes gleam, invigorated. I thank God silently when I realize the door is locked.

He lowers me to the ground. "You're utter perfection," he whispers against my lips.

"Edward? Come on, you said you'd be done by seven." The breeziness of Tanya's accent drifts through the paper-thin door. Both of us freeze, and then I'm fumbling with my dress, grabbing my bag and coat, picking up my heels so they don't make a sound against the wooden floors. Edward tucks his shirt into his slacks again and does up his fly and belt. He steps away from me, reaching for his desk drawer and spraying on aftershave, taming his hair in the mirror from where I've teased it into a mess.

He nods toward a closet.

"Are you fucking serious?" I whisper, heated and hot and still aching from him.

"Please," he says under his breath. "Bella."

I glare as I throw open the door and work my way in amongst extra suits and shirts, perching myself on top of a vacuum cleaner as he encloses me in darkness.

Edward's footsteps move across the room, unlocking the door and opening it as I hold my breath.

"Sorry. After the fourth time of Jenks walking in and lecturing me, I had to stop him somehow so I could actually get stuff done. Give me five to finish off an email," he tells her, smoothly. "Then I'm all yours."

"We can wait," Tanya suggests.

"If you go now you'll probably make it for cocktail hour."

"That's a good point," I hear Kate say.

"I promise I'll be right there," Edward adds.

"As if I care about two-for-one specials," Tanya says. "I'm flying out tomorrow and I want to spend every moment left with you, and after today—"

"You might not care about two-for-one, but I do," Kate says. "Come on. He'll be quicker if we leave him to it. Edward, what are you drinking?"

"Old Fashioned. If not on the menu I'll sort myself out. I really won't be long."

I hear Tanya sigh, frustration laced in it. "I should have got Laurent to clear your schedule for today too. This day would be far less lousy if we'd just had some time alone."

"You know work doesn't stop," Edward counters. "One email."

"Fine. See you there. Love you."

He mumbles it back. The rage rises; hot and ugly.

Their footsteps fade, and when it feels like a whole era has lapsed, Edward yanks open the door to the closet. Blinking from the sudden blast of light hitting my face, I extract myself with as much grace as I can muster.

I shrug him off when he tries to kiss me.

"Don't," I warn him.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I know this is fucking hard, but I love you. Remember that above everything else. Us above everything else."

"It doesn't feel like it when you're shoving me into a closet. It's not fucking hard. It's fucked up. If you ever want me to say those words back to you again, Edward, do better. And keep her the fuck away from me. I can't stand her telling you she loves you and hearing you say it back."

"Bella," he sighs.

"I won't lie to her face again," I tell him flatly. "Nor will I be hidden in a fucking closet."

I stalk out without another word.