Katinki graciously edited this story.
Chapter 34
The aroma of what must be the most delicious, small-batch, single-origin, and definitely-not-your-regular-Starbucks espresso penetrates my senses as I slowly drift from sleep into awareness. With my eyes still closed, I wonder if Alice's conscience has finally nudged her into bringing me that coffee she'd promised. But then I notice other mouthwatering smells and immediately abandon my theory. Alice has never been one for breakfast.
Abruptly, the memory of last night floods my mind, and I jolt upright.
"Good morning," Edward says softly.
I find him sitting on the edge of my bed, wearing yesterday's clothes that look suspiciously clean and dry, and looking at me with quiet fascination.
"I've never had a chance to watch you sleep in daylight. It's a beautiful sight," he murmurs, his voice catching slightly. "Coffee?"
I silently nod, mesmerized.
I've certainly never woken up to a more beautiful sight myself.
The morning sun casts a warm glow over Edward's features, softening them, and there's a tenderness in his eyes that makes my chest ache. It's as if an angel has landed on my bed, allowing me a glimpse of a miracle that mortals aren't meant to witness.
How did I get so lucky? I must have done something spectacular in a past life.
Then, I glance down at myself and belatedly realize that I'm completely naked.
"You're blushing," Edward says in an amused tone. "How do you feel?"
"A little sore… I mean, I feel great! Fantastic! Oh my God!" I quickly grab my blanket and wrap it around myself like a towel before returning my gaze to Edward, my cheeks burning. He smiles brightly, and I relax a little. "Good morning," I say, grinning.
"I took it upon myself to bring you something to eat." He produces a gigantic wooden tray that I immediately recognize as a relic from one of Alice's ex-boyfriends, long banished to the upper shelf in the kitchen—and for the record, I'm referring to the tray, not the boyfriend. On the tray lie a freshly baked croissant, a tiny jar of Nutella, and a fancy-looking piece of toast crowned with eggs Benedict and microgreens. A steaming cup labeled "Olympia Coffee" completes this epicurean extravaganza.
I blink several times. "This is like a dream. Am I dreaming?"
Edward smirks and lightly caresses my naked shoulder. "I had to wash and dry my clothes—I hope you don't mind. Emmett brought us his car early this morning, but I'll have to quickly stop by my apartment before work and change."
"Oh, right… Work! Of course!" I rub my eyes, trying to snap back to reality. "Do what you need to do. What time is it even? Dang, where's my phone? I'll take my usual bus—"
"Shhhh," he cuts in on my blabbering. "I was hoping that you'd ride with me. Do you think forty-five minutes will suffice for a quick breakfast and whatever you need to do?" Then he adds, "But if you want to stay here and sleep…"
Now, that's a thought! Of course, I want to stay!
But not necessarily sleep, though.
Not wasting a moment, I drop my blanket and climb on Edward's lap.
See, what I lack in gracefulness, I clearly compensate with enthusiasm.
Edward lets out a soft moan, and the next moment we're making out like freaking teenagers as though we didn't spend most of the night doing just that and much, much more. I reach for the top button of Edward's shirt with the full intention of freeing him from it one way or another when he steadies me and pants, "If we start this now, I won't be done with you any time soon, and Carlisle will kill me."
"Ugh!" I forcefully exhale and drop my head on Edward's shoulder. "All right. We can't have you killed at such a young age, now, can we? Although, I bet when Carlisle and Esme got together, he didn't run to the office at 8:00 am sharp the next morning!"
"Actually, he did run to the hospital, as far as I remember," Edward says, his hands gliding up and down my back in slow, languid strokes. "There was a rare surgery scheduled in the morning, which he couldn't miss. But the moment it was over, he was back home with Esme."
I stifle a snort as I slip off Edward's lap. Then, I grab my clothes, tell him to stay put, and hurry to the shower.
Forty minutes later, sleep-deprived but full of Seattle's best coffee and impossibly, outrageously happy, I climb into the passenger seat of Emmett's car. It's not a Jaguar, and that's all I can say about it. When we arrive at work, Edward parks the car in the "executive" garage, and an elevator that I never noticed before takes us to his apartment. Which, it turns out, is just a large suite at the small hotel the company maintains on the top floor of our building.
"Why don't you live with the rest of your family?" I ask.
"They don't really live together. Jasper owns an apartment Downtown, as you probably know," Edward says. "Rosalie and Emmett are currently staying with Carlisle and Esme, but it's temporary—they're going on a trip to New Zealand soon. Also, remember what I told you about living with mated couples?" He makes a face.
"Oh, God, I can't even imagine. Especially with your mind-reading… Must be overwhelming."
"More like repetitive," he says wryly. "And very, very loud."
I snicker. "We weren't too inconspicuous last night either." I blush again.
In the blink of an eye, I'm swept into Edward's arms.
"You make me feel things I never thought were possible. What did I do to deserve this?" he murmurs, punctuating each word with an open-mouthed kiss along the curve of my neck. "And by the way, this room offers excellent soundproofing."
His voice somehow reverberates in the most intimate parts of my body.
It's so tempting to give in, but I know we must go. Also, I suddenly have an uncomfortable thought that Carlisle might still be able to hear us from wherever he is in the building.
Note to self: find out exactly how good vampire hearing is.
"Tonight," I whisper back to Edward. I hesitate. "Listen, I'll try to sneak out of here unnoticed, but what if someone sees me?"
"Good!" He takes my left hand and turns the ring so that the stone now faces outward. Then he presses a gentle kiss on my palm. "I want them to know."
I meet his gaze, and his dark eyes search mine.
"To know what?" I ask, my throat tight.
"That I'm yours."
XXX
My day in the office passes like a blur. Concentrating on actual work would be pure torture, but because my mind runs a constant replay of what happened last night, I remain blissfully numb.
During lunchtime, a delivery bag in my name arrives at reception, containing a turkey avocado panini and another cup of coffee.
Apparently, my smile as I examine and consume all these goodies in the kitchen is so telling that Garrett, who's also here having lunch with Kate, just can't help himself. "Bella, you look like you've just received a birthday present. Did someone send you food?"
"Um, as a matter of fact, yes," I say politely.
"And who's the generous donor?" Kate asks innocently, and they both burst out laughing.
"What do you mean? My fiancé, of course. I told you about him," I say, looking Kate directly in the eyes.
"No, you didn't!" she snaps, suddenly annoyed. Garrett stares at me in bewilderment but doesn't say a word.
"I didn't? Weren't you the one who saw us in the car the other day? Okay, maybe I didn't," I concede, stretching my left arm and admiring how stunning Edward's ring looks on my finger.
After that, I neatly fold my sandwich wrap and toss it into the trash. "Cheers!" I say, lifting my coffee cup in salute as I get up to leave.
I'm almost out of the kitchen when I catch Kate's urgent whisper, "Did you see her ring?!"
Well, that was fun.
After work, Edward and I return to my apartment and spend the rest of the evening in bed, cocooned in each other. And then we do the same the next evening. And the next. I don't think I'd remember to eat or sleep if it wasn't for Edward. But not to take a shower—as it turns out, Edward is quite fond of spending time with me there, despite it "being dangerous for humans."
All because I'm so stupidly in love with him. And who wouldn't be?
A week after our reconciliation, Alice shows up at the office when I'm about to head home. She's taking me on a shopping spree, she announces, and then we can catch up.
And say goodbye, too, but we don't say that out loud.
I'm so glad to finally see her that I don't question her plan and obediently follow her wherever she drags me. Which turns out to be a designer dress section at Nordstrom. She convinces me that I absolutely need this Victoria Beckham asymmetric midi dress in the color that's called "fig," currently on sale. In my Edward-induced euphoria, I buy it. The dress is really nice and classy, though, and quite modest, too, despite the "fig" mention. Alice clearly knows her dresses.
Later in the evening, we have tea with cookies and share our news. She's already heard mine and says that she had always had a feeling that something like this would happen. I just shake my head and ask her about her plans. Alice tells me that she's leaving with Jasper and Carlisle for Wyoming in two days. There, Jasper will turn her, but they're taking Carlisle just in case for Jasper's peace of mind, since he's never turned anyone before.
When I ask her if she's scared, Alice looks at me with a genuinely puzzled expression and says, "Why would I be?" I tell her that Jasper is a lucky bastard and that if she doesn't call me every other day—at the very least—or send me a message, I'll disown her. Then we hug, and she leaves.
I cry a little after that, but Edward comes home and makes it better.
A week later, we receive news that everything went well and that Alice will Facetime me whenever she learns how to hold a phone without crushing it. I exhale in relief. It's not that I ever doubted Jasper… Okay, maybe I did, just a little bit. After all, Jasper was a traditional vampire for decades, and the fallout from what happened to Eleazar and Benjamin is still all too fresh in my mind.
After short consideration, Edward and I decide to give up my and Alice's apartment since it's almost time to renew the lease, and, well, I have no intention of staying there much longer.
As a result, I move in with Edward in his suite on the top floor.
If you've never lived in the building where you also worked, you would never understand how, on one hand, absolutely precious it is to be able to wake up mere minutes from the start of your work day, but on the other, how easy it is to be late in doing so. Especially when you've been busy during the night enjoying your fiancé. Still, I try to be on the 11th floor early, just to avoid bumping into some of my colleagues in the corridor.
"So, do people know about us?" I ask Edward as I pull on my clothes for the day. "I kind of hinted it to Garrett and Kate, just because they were getting on my nerves, but they probably thought I was nuts."
"A lot of people have heard about us, but nobody really believes it," Edward says.
I nod. "Good." Honestly, I just want people to stop staring, but I guess that's too much to ask.
"However, in the next few days, they might receive a confirmation," he adds, his tone guarded.
I eye him quizzically. "How so?"
"Some of the upper management might see you at the Annual CP Award Ceremony and Gala, which, I fervently hope, you're going to attend as my fiancée," he clarifies.
"Am I? Nice to learn this information in passing," I say and raise an eyebrow.
"I was about to ask." He looks sheepish. "Ms. Swan, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to such an event?" He bows just like he used to in London.
I beam at him. "I'd be delighted, Mr. Cullen." Then, I curtsy, which probably looks funny because I'm still in my bra and panties. "Luckily, I have a dress for the occasion. Alice made me buy one." I shrug. "It's like she knew."
Edward clears his throat. "There's something I need to tell you. About the Gala. One of the award recipients was supposed to be James Witherdale and the Faculty of Music History at UW."
I blink, taken aback.
"What?!" For a moment, I'm sure I'm hearing things.
And, truth be told, James Witherdale is the one name I hoped I'd never hear again.
"Cullen Platt supports musicians and music educators worldwide. That's what the Awards are about," Edward explains. "James submitted paperwork for a specific award, and on paper, his application looked solid. Amazing, even. Of course, after seeing his name, Jasper and I started to dig deeper. It turns out that half of what he wrote there is a lie, but that's not all of it. I spent some time near his office at UW and caught snippets of his thoughts. Clearly, he intends to use the award for his own benefit. He's planning to travel through Europe and buy expensive equipment for himself while pretending it's all for the faculty."
I slowly shake my head. "What a piece of shit. What are you going to do?"
"So, we had two options. Option one was to just tell him that he didn't qualify."
I smirk. "But surely, that's not what happened, right?"
"Not really. Bella, I need closure. I've known about this piece of shit, as you aptly called him, for two hundred years. I knew how much suffering he caused you, but I couldn't do anything. Imagine the torture. But my patience and restraint were rewarded: finally, I was presented with the chance to relieve a tiny bit of that pressure." A muscle ticks in his jaw. "I mean, you probably wouldn't want me to snap his neck like I offered you back in 1833, right?"
Edward's tone is conversational, but I'm no fool.
"Um, no, probably not," I say quickly.
"And that's why James is invited to the ceremony." Edward winks, and a mischievous smile curves his lips. "If that's okay with you, of course. But if seeing him would be too stressful—"
"Not at all, go ahead," I say. "I think I'm actually going to enjoy this."
XXX
The day of the Gala arrives, and Edward and I ride in a limousine, although there's no red carpet and camera flashes. The Cullen family is known for their penchant for privacy, and therefore, no photographers are allowed at the event, except for those vetted by the patriarch, Dr. Carlisle Cullen himself. At least that's what the internet says.
Edward is wearing a tuxedo, and honestly, his beauty would be a little overwhelming if he didn't keep telling me that I look divine in my fig dress and silver pumps. Well, I don't know about "divine." In one of my favorite books, when the heroine asks her maid if she considers her good-looking, the maid bluntly replies, "When you're all dolled up posh and got the light behind you, I've seen worse." That sounds about right in my case. But then again, if the most gorgeous man—or vampire—on earth thinks that I'm the goddess of beauty, who am I to tell him otherwise?
When we get inside the hotel, Carlisle immediately whisks Edward away to "talk to some people," leaving me with Esme. She looks stunning in her dark gray tunic dress, and we exchange compliments.
"So," she hesitates. "What are your plans? When...?" She gives me a pointed look.
I know precisely what she means.
"Very soon," I reply in a low voice. "I went to see my Dad last weekend. Told him that I'd be moving to Europe for a while. I hated to lie to him, but… he seemed fine. He's got a new girlfriend, and it looks like it's serious."
I swallow a lump in my throat. Saying goodbye to Charlie was hard, even though Edward thought that I could still visit him, eventually.
Esme takes my hand in hers and gives it a sympathetic squeeze. "It'll be all right. We'll come to visit you. You won't have to spend eternity in the woods." She smiles reassuringly.
"I know! And… thank you. For being so accepting. Of me and Alice."
She opens her mouth to say something, but then a group of middle-aged ladies surrounds us, greeting Esme and launching into loud, animated conversation. I quickly excuse myself, telling Esme that I'm going to find the bathroom.
I don't get too far, though. A familiar figure appears right in front of me, and I realize that it's too late to turn away or pretend that I didn't notice him.
Oh, well. Let's see what we have here.
James walks straight to me, his gaze distinctly appraising. It's clear he hasn't lost his swagger, though the same can't be said for his once-abundant dirty blond hair. With a mixture of both fascination and disgust, I also notice dandruff dusts the shoulders of his black tux.
"Bella! Long time no see!" he exclaims. "How are you? What a pleasant surprise!"
"Hi James," I say, tilting my head slightly.
"How long has it been? Three years? Four?" He gives me a not-so-discreet once-over that makes my skin crawl.
"That depends," I say. "Since what?"
I look at him and feel nothing.
Wait.
On second thought, I actually do feel something.
I'm angry.
How could I not see him for what he was?
And I probably considered myself smart then.
James ignores my question. "I heard that you quit music. So sad," he says with a theatrical sigh. "How does it feel to sell your soul to corporate America?"
Did he just wink?!
I laugh. "Frankly, it feels pretty good! But you wouldn't know, of course. Having a soul is a prerequisite for such a transaction."
"Still so bitter!" He shakes his head disapprovingly. "I, on the other hand, am genuinely glad to see you." He reaches for my arm, but I step aside before he can touch me. "Where do you work now?" he asks, unfazed.
"At Cullen Platt," I say, pointing at the company logo displayed on the screen behind the stage. "And why are you here? Not, by any chance, to receive an award?"
"As a matter of fact, yes! You're talking to the Best Educator of the 2023–2024 academic year. The cash prize is quite impressive, not to mention that it's about time they recognize my faculty in this manner." He draws out the word my, making it sound like the faculty is his personal property. The guy is so full of himself that it's kind of funny. "And what about you? Do they make junior staff work evenings at events like this?"
"Actually, I'm here with my fiancé."
"Fiancé?" His lips purse.
"Yes," I say, amused. "His name is—"
"There you are!" Out of nowhere, Edward appears beside me. James takes an involuntary step back.
Edward's gaze locks on James, his eyes cold and assessing.
"Edward, this is James," I say, my voice steady. "An old acquaintance."
"Cullen," Edward says, extending his hand. James's eyes flash with astonishment. He hesitates just a moment too long before accepting the handshake, visibly uncomfortable under Edward's scrutiny.
"So, you're the James," Edward continues, his tone deceptively casual. "How is your wife doing? Tory, I believe, is her name?"
My eyes widen. I know for a fact that James's wife's name is Lauren, aka my former friend with whom James cheated on me.
James blinks, and confusion flickers across his face. "I'm sorry, I don't…" Beads of sweat appear on his forehead. "You must be confusing me with someone else. My wife—"
"Oh, my apologies," Edward laughs. The sound makes James flinch. "That would be your companion, of course. But it figures! Didn't you once say, the more, the merrier?"
James forces a strained chuckle but offers nothing to confirm or deny the remark.
Meanwhile, Edward's smile gets even wider. "By the way, I couldn't help but notice your excitement about the award tonight," he says sweetly.
James doesn't seem to notice the quiet threat lurking behind Edward's words. Instead, he straightens and attempts to regain his composure. "Yes, it's a significant honor."
"Indeed," Edward agrees. "It's just a pity you won't be receiving it."
James's brow furrows. "I beg your pardon?"
"Oh," Edward says, waving his hand dismissively. "Didn't they tell you? Apparently, there was a problem with your application. Something about... creative embellishments?"
The color drains from James's face. He opens his mouth, then closes it.
With a shrug, Edward continues, "It appears that the selection committee wasn't as enamored with your imaginative liberties as you might have hoped. I'm afraid that means you won't be receiving the award this year."
There's a long moment of silence as Edward just stares at James, his expression gradually hardening into one of utter disgust. "Good day, sir," he finally says, his tone glacial. Then he turns to me. "The ceremony is about to start. Shall we?"
Edward takes my hand, and we walk away, leaving James speechless and gawking. I glance up at Edward, an unspoken question in my eyes.
"That scumbag was imagining himself in a threesome with you and this Tory, his new mistress," he grits through his teeth. "I'm seriously reconsidering my promise to leave his head attached to his body."
I'm about to say that it might not hurt James as much as the loss of the money when Leah, Edward's assistant, appears, telling him that he's needed behind the stage. I give him a quick kiss on the cheek and hurry to take my place in the first row near Esme.
The award ceremony is short and to the point. I recognize a famous violinist among the winners, but the rest of them seem unfamiliar, so I make a mental note to look them up later. James lingers in the doorway, apparently still not quite believing that he lost, until a group of women from the Faculty of Ethnomusicology walks to the stage to receive the award that he was hoping for.
His red and very angry face is the last thing I see before he storms out of the room.
Once all the awards have been handed out and the applause fades, Carlisle steps onto the stage and takes the microphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he says, "thank you for being here tonight. As you're well aware, Cullen Platt has always taken pride in being an integral part of the world's music scene. My family has strong and long-standing ties to music, and although we're busy strengthening our corporation by day, some of us are also musicians at heart by night." At that, the audience laughs. "Tonight, we have a special surprise for you. Please welcome my brother, Edward Cullen."
The lights dim as several stagehands roll a concert-size Steinway to center stage. My mouth falls open, mirroring the reactions of dozens of guests, as Edward approaches the piano and, without a word, takes his seat.
Then he begins to play.
From the very first notes, I recognize the Schwanengesang Variations he once played as a dedication to me. I loved it back then, but now, it sounds different—less like a salon piece and more like a serious orchestral work arranged for the piano. I notice quite a few changes and realize he has thoroughly reworked the composition. It is now far more technically demanding as well, featuring sweeping passages across the keyboard and inhumanly difficult chord sequences.
Which, of course, he performs with the precision and ease of a true virtuoso.
But it's not the technical brilliance that gets me.
There's a new depth to his playing. It's hard to define, but it's there—it's in the way he draws the softest notes from the massive Steinway, or subtly shifts the tempo, breathing life into the melody.
It's in the way he lingers on a pause, or harnesses a wild rush of dissonant chords.
Each detail might seem small on its own, but together, they shape something that is unmistakably his. A piece of music that tells his story—a story of a vampire who's clung to his humanity through his art, against all odds.
Who's endured more than anyone should, felt everything with a depth almost too much to bear, and finally, learned to own it.
I think the audience senses it on some profound, unspoken level, too. The room is utterly still, as if no one dares to breathe.
But then it's over, and they roar and clap louder than ever.
But not me. I sit perfectly still. Tears stream down my cheeks and onto my expensive dress as I silently pray that my heart can contain the joy I feel because of this man.
XXX
"I didn't know that you'd started playing again. And that you're playing even better than before—something I didn't think was possible. When did you resume practicing?"
I'm lying in bed on my stomach with my head resting on Edward's chest. We're both relaxed and drowsy after a round of love-making.
Well, at least I'm drowsy.
"A few months ago," he replies as he absentmindedly traces circles on my naked back. "Precisely two days after you were transferred to Marketing, and I saw you for the first time in 190 years. It's like something switched in me, and I just wanted to do it again… I needed it."
"So, are you saying that I'm your muse?" I smile.
"You absolutely are," he says as his hand drifts down to my backside. He lingers there for a while, then gives it a delicious, firm squeeze and groans, "Oh, God…"
I roll over and look at him. "What?"
He places a kiss between my breasts. "At the risk of sounding like a very selfish person, I must say, I can't wait to make love to you when we're… the same. So that there's not even a hypothetical chance of me hurting you in the process." His Adam's apple moves up and down as he swallows. "Don't get me wrong, what I have with you now is more than I ever dreamed of, and if I had to die right here, right now, I'd die a happy man. It's just that the thought of making a wrong move that could cost me everything is always somewhere in the back of my mind."
All of a sudden, I'm very much awake. I sit up in bed and lock my gaze on him.
"Edward… I don't want to wait. Let's do it tonight. I want this life with you, and I want to start now."
Something ancient and very primal sparks in his golden eyes, making my breath hitch. "You know that's what I want, too," he says, his voice low and rough.
Then, as if remembering something, he shakes his head. "This is bizarre… Jasper called me this morning and said that Alice had told him that you might say that—and that we should go for it. He even made me pack a travel bag."
My jaw drops. "What the hell is going on with Alice? She scares me with all this premonition stuff."
"Jasper says that she's started having visions that eventually come to be. They're like short videos that play in front of her eyes. We're definitely going to look into that. This might be her gift, and if so, we really need to hide her away from Aro."
No shit. That greedy bastard.
"Oh, gosh, do not mention that name in this bedroom. He's like an anti-aphrodisiac." I scrunch my nose. "Actually, no, I take it back. I still want to do things with you… like, right now!" I straddle him and lean in to lick his nipple. Edward inhales sharply.
"But, listen, I'm serious," I tell him in a stern voice. "We have everything prepared. I don't want to wait."
"Are you absolutely sure?"
Edward kisses me on the lips and then lightly bites my earlobe.
"It's going to hurt quite a bit," he says softly.
"It shouldn't—I'm not a virgin," I joke, and then add seriously, "I know, and don't worry. Just stay with me, okay?"
He hesitates for a moment before finally nodding, taking it as my last and final consent. "It will be less painful if you're… aroused," he murmurs.
I notice that he's very hard.
"Oh, I already am… I'm in a constant state of arousal when you're around." I gasp as he finds the sensitive spot at the apex of my thighs and slowly begins circling it with his thumb while pumping two fingers inside of me.
"I love you, my angel," Edward croons, and I lose myself in sensation.
My body gradually tenses as I climb toward my release, moving in sync with Edward's fingers.
Edward says something else—something probably reassuring—but I can hardly hear it. I'm single-mindedly focused on the pleasure he's giving me.
The spring in my belly uncoils, releasing a cascade of tiny stars. When I cry out, I feel his fingertips brush across the pulse point at my throat.
A split second later, his teeth break skin.
My brain marks the sensation as pain, but it's muffled.
Tolerable.
"Not horrible at all," I have the time to think.
Then, everything disappears, and I sink into the tunnel that will take me to my future.
.
.
.
Notes:
'When you're all dolled up posh like you was last night, and got the light be'ind you, I've seen worse, you know,"—is a quote from W. Somerset Maugham's Theatre.
I'll be posting the Epilogue next Monday! Stay tuned, and, as always, thank you for reading!
