Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Chapter 14

Edward stared absently at the back of the blonde head on the pillow next to his. He noticed that the roots were showing, a combination of mouse-brown and telltale gray. She had told him she was thirty-three, but he figured she was forty if she was a day. He didn’t mind being lied to by clients. It was easier if he didn’t know their stories, and most of the time he didn’t really care to hear them.

There were exceptions, every now and then. He thought about the most recent one. He was reasonably sure he could never know enough about her.

He imagined her lustrous brunette hair on the pillow beside him instead of the broomstick blonde. He would not be able to keep his fingers out of those dark, silky strands if she was here. He would roll toward her and pull her closer until his body fit neatly around hers like a glove on hand. The soft scent of fruit and spice and sex would settle in his nostrils, and he would sleep then. He’d slept like a baby with her. Spent, sated, content.

Contentment was elusive tonight.

He wondered why she hadn’t found his day planner yet. Maybe she had, and she was too appalled at his schedule to bother returning it to him. But what else could he have left behind that would prompt her to call the agency in search of him? He needed his phone too much to sacrifice it, and toiletries were too trivial to warrant any further concern on her part. He hadn’t had time to think properly in that moment when their belongings had spilled together on the tiled floor. He only knew that he was desperate for an excuse to see her again, so he shoved his appointment book into her oversized bag before he had time to change his mind.

And now he waited.

He wasn’t patient by nature. It was an attribute he worked hard to cultivate, and he had become much better at it as an adult. But Bella Swan seemed to have stripped him of that nicety. From the beginning, she had reverted him to his true nature and reduced him to his baser wants and needs. He feared her power over him in that regard. But more than that, he craved it.

The waiting was made doubly irritating when he realized what he had left inside his day planner. He didn’t really care about the appointments penciled neatly between its narrow margins, since it was merely a back-up for the schedule readily available on his phone. But he was uneasy the minute it dawned on him that one of his dearest remembrances was tucked inside the planner’s black cover. He needed that back as much as he needed to see Bella again.

Three days. Why would she wait that long to return his belongings to him? He wanted to contact her himself, but of course, he couldn’t. The agency would never give him her number or address. That was part of the agreement he signed with each client -- he was not allowed to instigate any personal contact outside the parameters of a paid Renaissance Escorts date. Only the client could seek out an employee’s company. The agreement did not work in reverse.

And so he waited. And wanted. He wanted Bella far more than his planner. He hoped she wanted him enough to buy another evening with him, even though he had no idea how she could afford it. He would definitely see her for free if it wasn’t against the rules.

I’d pay her. His thoughts were wistful as he looked askance at the blonde. His lip curled in something like distaste at the artificial color.

It didn’t occur to Edward to consider any relationship as more than a barter anymore. He hadn’t had a real date, by most people’s definition, in almost two years. He was used to payment for services rendered. So it was quite significant, and disconcerting, that he was willing to reverse the flow of commerce for Isabella Swan.

He closed his eyes and imagined the smell, the feel, of her now. So tiny beneath him, yet so strong. Though he’d worried plenty about hurting her during her first time, he knew he wouldn’t break her, even when he plunged between her thighs with an urgency he couldn’t control. He had known deep down that she could take it, virginity be damned. She was made for it. Made for him. He knew it instinctively, even before he was able to marvel at the sensation of fitting so perfectly inside her.

He wondered if she realized how rare their connection was. Probably not. He had been her first, so she’d had no experience to the contrary, other than aborted back-seat fumblings with other boys. She had no way of knowing that sex wasn’t always like that -- heated and delirious and transcendent. She couldn’t know how difficult it was to find that seamless fit, like an expertly crafted dovetail joint; or that effortless movement as one, like a well-oiled hinge. She had no clue how elusive and mysterious that perfect union had always been for him.

He worried that she had irrevocably changed him. Made him even less satisfied with his lot in life, and his reluctantly chosen path. For now he knew that he would find the others even more wanting than he had before. What had been tolerable, even pleasurable on most occasions, would now be only a disappointment.

He first realized it last night, when he had to close his eyes after he’d mounted the fiery redhead so that he could imagine brown hair instead. It hit him again tonight, when he squeezed the ample, tanned flesh of the blonde next to him and wistfully longed for slender, ivory limbs encasing him. He’d been lucky that his Sunday dates hadn’t involved sex. He wasn’t sure he could have been up to the task after the time he’d spent with Bella.

He burned for her now, growing erect and frustrated thinking about their night together. He didn’t know exactly why it was so different. He only knew that it was, and there was no going back and undoing the damage now. There was no way to forget how she stirred a desire so strong in him that it was all he could do to keep himself in check; how she made his body’s needs obliterate rational thought; how she brought him to a release so violent it felt like a bomb detonating in his groin.

He wanted her again. Surely she wanted him, too. Even though he had hurt her at first, he was fairly sure that eventually she had enjoyed herself. Her pleasure had been so close to overtaking the pain. He could see it on her face, hear it in her cries, feel it when she clutched him so tightly and nearly pulled his hair out by the roots. He wished he could have held out longer - maybe she would have been able to come. He felt like he had left his mission unfinished by not giving her an orgasm during intercourse. He was glad he’d been able to produce them orally, but that wasn’t enough. She deserved to have the full experience of truly great sex, and he was the one for the job. He couldn’t stand the thought of her turning to those stupid college boys who treated her like she was a toy for them to play with.

Fuck. He needed another chance. He had to have her again. He would figure out a way to have her again.

This was the mantra he repeated, and the fantasy he imagined, in order to drift off to sleep. It helped when he turned his back on the blonde and clutched a bed pillow to himself instead.

He slept fitfully and woke early. He was showered and dressed by the time his companion awoke and gave him a drowsy, lust-filled gaze from the bed.

“Leaving so soon, handsome?” she cooed in what he figured must be her attempt at a seductive tone.

“Yes, I have an early morning appointment,” he lied.

The blonde pouted. If she was aiming for cute or winsome, she’d failed. “You sure I can’t change your mind about that? Tame your morning wood for you?” she added with a wink.

He had already done that in the shower, imagining Bella’s lips wrapped around him.

“Sorry,” he said, mustering an expression of what he hoped looked like disappointment. “It’s really not something I can get out of. Maybe next time.”

He wished he could remember the blonde’s name. He wasn’t above rummaging through a woman’s purse to find her driver’s license in instances such as this, but he hadn’t thought to do it. Normally he was careful to memorize all the important information about a client ahead of time so that she would feel special, and perhaps call him again. Repeat business was his bread and butter. He began to feel almost annoyed with Isabella Swan for throwing him off his game. No matter how great a lay she was, he needed to keep sight of what was important. He was making great money these days, and he needed every penny.

He returned to the bathroom and scooped up his overnight bag, noisily throwing it on the countertop. He grabbed his razor and deodorant off the sink and was ready to drop them in the side pocket when he noticed something shiny wedged in the bottom. He reached inside and drew out a dainty, rather old-fashioned earring. He studied it with curiosity. He couldn’t call to the blonde by name, so he searched for another term of endearment instead.

“Hey, sweetheart -” he cringed at the word - “did you lose an earring?”

She appeared in the doorway a moment later, wearing a flimsy silk bathrobe that she had obviously packed for the occasion. She glanced at the piece of jewelry between his fingers and made a face.

“Looks like an antique. Not my style, hon. Must be from one of your other conquests.” She raised a mildly miffed eyebrow at him and returned to the bedroom.

He didn’t bother apologizing, since she knew damned well what he did for a living. He thought back to the redhead, but her style had been much more Bohemian, and he distinctly remembered the large art nouveau jewelry she wore with her funky dress.

And then a flash of memory hit with thrilling clarity. That dainty earring had tickled his nose when he’d wrapped his arms around Isabella Swan’s lithe body and kissed the tender skin of her neck.

He appraised the shiny bauble with renewed interest. An ivory teardrop pearl dangled from a tiny cluster of diamonds that glittered as he turned the earring to and fro. He wondered if it was a family heirloom of some kind. It did have the look of an antique. Surely Bella would be missing a piece of jewelry like this, especially if it had sentimental meaning to her. And if it did, then she would certainly understand why he needed to get his day planner back when she saw what was inside.

He frowned at the earring and wondered again why the hell she hadn’t called him. If he didn’t know better, he might have taken it personally. But he knew she liked him. She had looked as sad to leave him as he’d felt inside. There had to be another explanation.

His frown slowly turned to a grin as another thought crossed his mind: now he had a legitimate reason to ask the agency for her contact information.

He hummed happily to himself as he slipped the earring back into his travel case and zipped it securely.

“You’re in a good mood this morning,” the blonde commented as she returned to the bathroom with an armful of hair products. Apparently the miniature bottles the hotel provided weren’t good enough for her fading dye job.

“Well, I’d be in a better mood if I didn’t have to leave you so soon,” he said, sounding almost sincere this time. He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek for good measure.

“Hmm,” she muttered, unconvinced. She turned to the shower and began setting the bottles inside.

Edward crept back out to the bedroom and spied her handbag atop the dresser. He stealthily opened it and glanced through its contents until he hit pay dirt.

He returned to the bathroom and leaned rakishly against the door. “I hope you had as good a time as I did last night, Lauren,” he said in his best sexy voice. “We should definitely do it again some time.”

She turned and looked up at him, shaking her head and letting out a laugh. “You’re too charming for your own good, Edward Cullen.”

“And you’re too lovely for yours,” he added without a hitch.

Her eyes rolled this time. “Save it for one of your younger girls - they might actually fall for a line like that.”

He gave her his best disarming grin. “You wound me, truly.”

She snorted and gave him a playful shove. “Get out of here before I call your agency and demand that they change your booking today. Another twelve hours with you would be worth every penny.” Her eyes raked lewdly over him, and he tried not to shudder in response.

Instead he took a deep breath and said, “I will gladly give you another twelve hours, Lauren. Just not today.”

She grabbed him by the lapels and planted a kiss on him, while he tried not to inhale her morning breath.

Morning breath . . .

He drew away from her as quickly as feasible while Bella’s thoughts about the subject ran through his mind. He said his good-byes as regretfully as possible and let out an exaggerated sigh of relief once he was out the hotel door.

His grimace soon became an irrepressible grin as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and speed-dialed his boss.

“Renaissance Escorts, Rosalie Hale speaking. How may I help you today?” came her usual smooth-as-silk greeting.

“By bending the rules a little bit, that’s how,” he said without preamble. His own determined image stared back at him as he approached the shiny elevator doors at the end of the hall and punched the “down” button.

Rosalie always recognized the voices of her most-requested escorts. “Edward, you know I love you, darling, but I don’t bend the rules. Ever.”

“Not even if it’s in the best interest of one of our clients?” he pressed.

An annoyed sigh met his ears. “Fine, let’s hear it. This should be good.”

“It’s not a big deal, honestly. I found an earring that I’m pretty sure belongs to the girl I saw Saturday night, Isabella Swan. It looks like it might be a family heirloom or something. I’m sure she’d love to have it back.”

“Well, that’s easy enough. Just drop the earring off at the front desk with Tanya. I’ll call Ms. Swan and tell her she can pick it up here.”

Edward was ready for that reply. “No offense, but I trust Tanya about as far as I can throw her. If I give her that earring, she’ll probably take it to the nearest pawn shop the minute I turn around.”

“Okay then, bring it directly to my office. I’ll see that Ms. Swan gets it.”

Edward moved to plan B. “Well, I would do that, except that I’m not absolutely certain it’s Bella’s. I’d rather speak to her myself and have her describe the earring to me so I know for sure. Besides, I’m missing my day planner, and I’m wondering if she picked it up by mistake. We accidentally spilled all our things on the floor and I think that’s how the mix-up happened.”

Rosalie’s sigh was exasperated this time. “Well, that’s unfortunate, but it’s not grounds for me to give you her phone number. I’ll call her and find out if she came up with an extra planner and a missing earring. Then I’ll let you know.”

He executed plan C with a bit more desperation than the nonchalance he was aiming for. “Go ahead and give her my number - I could meet her somewhere to make the swap, and save us both having to drive all the way downtown. If she’s willing, of course.”

“Of course. We’ll handle it however the client wants to handle it, as always.” Rosalie’s tone told him he hadn’t fooled her for a minute. He knew the blasé attitude he typically displayed toward his customers was completely missing now. He didn’t want to raise his boss’s suspicions any further, so he played it cool.

“Right. Just let me know,” he said casually. The elevator had reached the first floor. He exited and headed for the main desk to have his car brought to the front of the hotel.

“Will do. Oh, and in case you haven’t checked your email, Siobhan called and asked if you can meet her for dinner at six before the play you’re seeing tonight. What should I tell her?”

Edward tried to stifle his sigh. That meant less time at Charlotte’s, his only true haven these days.

“Tell her that’s fine. Text or email me the place.”

“That’s one of the things I love about you, Edward. You’re so flexible. I know I can always count on you to keep our customers happy.”

Flexible? Try broke and desperate, he wanted to reply. Instead he merely mumbled in agreement before hanging up. He hated Rosalie’s perpetual tone of smug satisfaction. He knew he was one of a handful of the company’s most sought-after escorts who kept her in new Beemers and designer shoes, her addictions of choice. He wished his vocation afforded him a fraction of the contentment that it obviously gave her.

He glanced at the time before he put his cell phone back in his pocket. He had some time to kill before he was due at Charlotte’s house. He wondered if she would mind if he showed up early. She was probably enjoying tea and crumpets on the lanai, her favorite mid-morning ritual.

He was surprised that she hadn’t moved back to England after her husband, Peter, died. Of course, he had left her an estate so grand that it would be hard to leave behind under any circumstances. She always said she felt an obligation to keep the place up the way Peter would have wanted, and Edward could understand that. He felt honored that she let him practice on the beautiful vintage Steinway in the conservatory, even though the fact that he could play was the initial reason she sought him out. And he was humbly grateful that she paid for his company as often as she did, especially because she asked nothing of him except good conversation and the occasional game of chess or cards. He suspected that she hired him so frequently because she wanted him to have the money, and she knew he wouldn’t take it outright.

Sugar mama, his brain taunted him. He didn’t care if it was true. Any indignities he might suffer were nothing to Emily’s suffering. After all she had done for him and Alice, it was his duty to keep what was left of their family intact.

After the valet dropped off his car, Edward left the Four Seasons and went straight to his favorite coffee shop. He ordered his usual no-nonsense one-hundred-percent Columbian with a shot of cream and sugar. He didn’t bother to buy breakfast because he knew Charlotte would have a feast laid out for a king.

He had just settled into the ivory leather seat of his C70 and shoved the coffee cup snugly in the closest holder when his cell phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and looked at the number, then felt a quick thrill of anticipation when he discovered he didn’t recognize it.

“Hello. Edward Cullen speaking,” he answered, as was his habit. Though he was not allowed to ask for a client’s phone number, Rosalie was not above giving his out to prospective customers.

He was met with silence. But something in that silence bristled with electricity, and he knew right then and there who was on the other end of the phone.

He grinned and waited patiently for her speak. He could afford to be patient now. Because as soon as Bella Swan found her tongue, he knew the waiting would be through.

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