Chapter 39

The waiting room of Renaissance Escorts bore little resemblance to its owner.

Decorated in soothing shades of soft pink and cream with rich brown accents, this room was designed to convey sheer romance at every turn. Seasonal fresh-cut flowers in clear glass bowls adorned every flat surface, gossamer curtains filtered the gray Seattle sunlight, and fluffy accent pillows made the pale velveteen couch and chairs even more welcoming. The room managed to be modern and elegant, yet warm and comforting at the same time.

Rosalie Hale was none of these things.

Well, to be fair, she did dress in the latest styles, Edward conceded as he sat stiffly in one of the comfy chairs. And she did have a certain elegance in her carriage and demeanor. But she exuded precious little warmth or reassurance to clients, despite her bright smile and encouraging words.

At least, this had been Edward’s observation in his admittedly few personal interactions with his boss. He thought he’d seen a softening in her, though, since she and Emmett had become serious. Surely his friend’s innate good nature had rubbed off on her, and his fiery enthusiasm must have melted some of that icy exterior. Edward was counting on finally seeing the softer side of Rosalie Hale today. After all, Emmett had suggested this meeting between them in the first place, insisting that Rose might surprise him.

Edward shifted in his chair, growing more irritated by the second. She had already made him wait outside her office for a good five minutes now. When he arrived punctually, Tanya had raised her eyes from her computer long enough to inform him that their boss was on the phone, but he had his doubts. Making him wait was a classic power play.

Fine. Two could play that game. He assumed she wanted to ruffle him; put him on the defensive. He wouldn’t let her have the satisfaction. He just needed to keep his eyes on the prize: a future with Bella.

He closed his eyes for a moment and thought back to their morning together. His unhappy surprise at awaking cold and alone in the hotel bed had soon turned to delight when he’d spied her sitting in a chair she’d pulled up next to him, wrapped in a bathrobe, her new sketch pad and pencil in hand. He’d recognized them as the gifts Alice had picked out for her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, stifling a yawn.

“What does it look like?” she answered with a soft smile. “I’m trying to capture my new favorite subject.”

“Too late. You already caught me,” he informed her as he stretched his limbs a bit. “I just hope you don’t throw me back.”

“Not likely.” Her sweet lips stretched into a devilish smirk. “I’m much more likely to stuff you and mount you.”

“Funny, that’s exactly what I had in mind for you,” he shot back, grinning broadly. “Though not necessarily in that order.”

He watched her drawing hand move rapidly over the paper in short strokes, apparently shading in the sketch. Her eyes darted back and forth between his face and the page, studying, deconstructing, then reassembling with the pencil between her fingers. He propped his head up on one elbow and watched her intently for a few minutes. She finally stopped and leaned back in the chair, holding the sketch pad away from her to better appraise her work.

“Let me see,” he begged.

Her cheeks colored and she gave him a bashful look over the top of the sketch book. “It’s not quite finished,” she hedged. “You woke up right when I was getting all the details down.”

“That’s okay. I’m sure it’s great.”

She cringed a little. “Well, I tried. But I don’t think I could ever truly capture how beautiful you are.”

Her words shocked him into silence for a moment. He wanted to laugh at the notion, but something in her eyes sobered him. Last night, she told him that he’d made her feel beautiful when she thought she was ugly. Maybe it worked both ways.

He sat up and reached his hand out to her. “Let me see through your eyes, then.”

She bit her lip, then handed him the sketch book.

He turned it so that he could see her rendering of him. Yes, that was him all right, face half-hidden in the pillow as he lay slumbering on his side, one naked shoulder pushed up to his ear, hand clutching the covers under his chin. Bella had drawn his likeness in soft, feathery strokes mixed with hard, precise lines. Each eyelash, each hair of his thick brows was perfectly defined; even the stubble overtaking the lower part of his face was a study in coarse, lifelike detail. But she had molded his features in muted shades of gray so smooth that his skin looked like flawlessly sculpted stone.

This was a highly idealized version of the face he saw in the mirror each morning. It bore a remarkable resemblance to him, but in truth, she had not captured how beautiful he truly was - she had made him far more so than his reflection ever proved. She had created a paragon of perfection that was nothing like the fallible flesh and blood man he knew himself to be.

Was this how she saw him? How could he live up to an image such as this?

“You don’t like it,” she whispered.

Edward looked up at her stricken face and quickly reassured her. “No, that’s not true. It’s amazing. You never give yourself enough credit. You are incredibly talented. And I am incredibly flattered.” He glanced down at the skilled drawing, then gave her a rueful smile. “I just wish I could live up to this.”

Her elation at his praise quickly fizzled. “What do you mean, live up to it?”

“It’s just . . .” He paused and looked over the handsome guy sleeping so peacefully in Bella’s sketch. “You were so worried about capturing my supposed beauty that you kind of went overboard. I mean, you made me look like a GQ model or something.”

She didn’t join him in his chuckling. “I drew what I saw,” she defended herself quietly.

His smile faded. “That’s what I’m afraid of. That you don’t see me very clearly.”

She shook her head sadly. “Did you ever think that maybe you’re the one who doesn’t see yourself clearly?”

No. No, he didn’t think that. He saw himself all too well. That was the problem.

“Ms. Hale will see you now.” Tanya’s nasal announcement jarred him from his reverie.

Edward rolled his eyes at her formality. “Thank you,” he said curtly as he rose from the velvet chair and strode toward the gold-handled white door of Rosalie Hale’s inner sanctum.

The interior of this space suited its inhabitant much better. Varying shades of ice blue and cool aqua permeated the glass-and-chrome-filled room, matching the glacial smile frozen upon Rosalie Hale’s face.

“Good morning, Edward,” she greeted him from behind her glass-topped, snow-white desk. She didn’t rise to meet him, but held out one hand so that Edward could reach over to shake it.

“Rosalie,” he replied simply, taking a seat in the matching white chair facing the desk.

“You’re looking well,” she commented. She leaned her elbows on the desk and pressed her fingertips together, reminding Edward of a blonde praying mantis.

“As are you. Lovely as always,” he added for good measure. It was no lie. His boss was what most people would call a stunner, a voluptuous blonde with a toothpaste commercial smile and round, iris-colored eyes. The pale blue blouse she now wore made them all the more vivid as they gave him a dispassionate once-over.

Her smile deepened at the corners, dimpling her smooth, peach skin. The iris eyes were calculating despite the warmth of the smile below them. She appraised him the way one might judge a stallion for suitable stud service.

“Every time I see you, I’m reminded why you’re so popular with our clients. You’re almost prettier than they are . . . but not quite. You have just enough ruggedness to entice them, and just enough boyishness to disarm them. Not to mention commendable seduction skills, by all accounts.”

Edward tried not to wince at her assessment. It was a little too close to the one Bella had given him last night.

“I would hate to lose you,” Rosalie continued, cutting right to the chase. Her eyes seemed to search his for clues as to his intentions. “I think we’ve enjoyed a mutually beneficial arrangement for the past couple of years, and I value it highly. I hope you feel the same.”

Edward shifted in his seat, hoping his discomfort wasn’t as evident as he feared. He worked on keeping his congenial poker face intact.

“We’ve had a great run,” he conceded. “That I won’t deny. I appreciate the opportunities you gave me more than you know.”

“I know plenty, actually,” she informed him. “I had a pretty good idea why you came to me from the start, you know. Emmett was kind enough to fill in the blanks.”

“Was he?” Edward couldn’t help but bristle. He should have known his friend’s first loyalty would be to his new live-in girlfriend. But how much had he revealed?

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t betrayed your confidences,” she assured him. “He just gave me a little heads up about your financial situation, that’s all. I always guessed some family crisis forced you into this career choice. You obviously aren’t in it for the ego gratification or your love of women, though I don’t doubt your respect for the fairer sex. Which explains a good part of your success.”

“I would hope all of your employees have a healthy respect for women.”

“That’s the plan. I screen them as best I can. The proof is usually in the pudding, so to speak. If an escort doesn’t generate any repeat business, he won’t last long around here.”

Edward squirmed again. He took a deep breath and crossed his legs the other direction, then gave his boss a winsome smile. If she was about to give him an ultimatum, he wished she would come out with it.

Instead, she studied him coolly for a moment. She looked like she was waiting for something. He wished to God he knew what it was.

Finally, she leaned forward and crossed her arms on the desk. “You’re awfully quiet this morning, Edward. You called this meeting. You must have something you want to get off your chest, so let’s hear it.”

His smile turned wry. She was tossing the ball in his court. Fair enough, he was the one who had called her. He had just never expected her to stay mum about the complaints she must have received about his recent performance, or lack thereof.

“I guess I came here because I owe you an explanation. I’m sure my reviews have been . . . mixed, lately. I know I haven’t been leaving my clients satisfied in the way some of them might prefer.”

Rosalie’s eyebrow raised, but she remained silent. Edward cleared his throat to continue.

“And that particular dissatisfaction is likely to continue. There are certain expectations I will no longer be able to fill as a Renaissance Escorts employee,” he said carefully.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “And what expectations are those, Edward?”

He emitted a short laugh. “You really want me to say it? Out loud?”

“Why not. Are you wearing a wire?” she retorted. “Unless you’re about to tell me you’re an undercover cop, I don’t think there’s anything we can’t discuss here.”

His laugh was genuine this time. “You know I’m not a cop. You can search me for a wire if you want.”

“Tempting, but there’s no need,” she replied with a grin. “Just come out and say it. You don’t want to fuck women for money anymore.”

He gaped at her for a moment, surprised not at her candor, but at her apparent calm. “Okay. I don’t want to fuck women for money anymore. I can’t.”

Edward slumped back in his chair as if a ten-ton weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. Unfortunately, his boss looked a bit as if it had just fallen on her.

She nodded slowly, raising one arm to rest her chin on her hand. “And when did you come to this epiphany?”

“A couple of weeks ago, I guess. I just got to the point where I couldn’t do it anymore.” He looked at Rosalie’s slight frown and added, “I’m sorry. I should have been upfront with you then.”

She appeared as if she was lost in thought for a moment. “I am curious as to what brought about this change. Even though I knew your heart was never in this business, you were always able to put aside any personal reservations and provide the fantasy our customers were looking for. That’s what I always heard, over and over. ‘He knows just what I need. He makes a good impression in public, and an even better one in private.’” She paused, her lips twisting in a wistful smile. “You always tuned right in to whatever they wanted and needed. What made you tune out?”

He was surprised at how easily the answer came. “I found someone who tuned in to me. So I let her. She was what I wanted and needed. And I hadn’t considered that in a very long time.”

Rosalie regarded him thoughtfully, drumming her fingers along her jaw a couple of times. “Was she a customer? Not that it matters. Or is any of my business.”

Edward nodded. “Bella.” He spoke it with a reverence that was not lost on his boss.

“Oh, is she the one who lost the earring, and you were so anxious to give it back to her in person?”

His nod confirmed it. “Surprised the hell out of me. I never saw her coming. Never imagined that kind of complication in my life. Now I can’t imagine my life without it.”

Rosalie’s smile was wry. “Occupational hazard, I suppose. Though I think most people in our line of work have little trouble separating business from their personal lives.” She leaned back in her chair then, letting out a sigh. “But maybe that’s not true. Who in this business isn’t doing it for personal reasons, of one kind or another? They need the money, or they’re looking for something. Maybe escaping something.” Her eyes hardened for a moment, and she reached for a mug of coffee resting on a nearby electric warmer. “Can I get you a cup?” she offered, reverting back to her usual emotionless smile.

“No, thanks.” Edward studied the mask of pleasantry over her rigid posture, and he wondered what nerve had just been struck.

“Well, I fell into the first category,” he said. “I needed the money. What about you? How did you end up here, Rosalie?”

She didn’t seem affronted by his audacity. She merely gave him that humorless grin again before taking a couple sips of coffee and returning the mug to her desk. “I’m sure a shrink would have a heyday with me and my motivations. Why did I become a madam?” she pondered aloud, her tone almost mocking. “I enjoy the money, but I can’t say that was my primary motivation. I would say control is what attracted me to it the most. Control, with maybe a little slice of revenge on the side. Revenge is a dish best served cold, you know.”

Edward frowned at her, wanting to probe further, but unsure he was ready to hear the rest of her story.

Her smile was brittle, her voice eerily calm. “Of course, I’ll never have revenge on the ones who really deserve it. I’d have to be able to remember who they are for that. I barely remember what they did to me. Rohypnol - or whatever they slipped in my drink - has that unfortunate side effect.”

Edward’s eyelids squeezed shut in denial for a second. He felt sick. “Bastards,” he hissed under his breath. He opened his eyes and looked into hers - really looked at her for the first time. “You should have reported it. The cops could have found them. Made them pay.”

“Maybe,” Rose answered doubtfully. “I’m sure I should have done a lot of things. Admitted that it even happened. Reported it. Gone for counseling sooner than I did. But when you’re young and naïve, you worry that you brought it on yourself by sneaking out of your parents house to go to a college party you didn’t tell them about. You’re afraid that no one will believe you. That they’ll label you a slut for the rest of your high school career. So you ignore it and hope it will go away. It never really does, of course. And then, eventually, that festering inner trauma might manifest itself in a career choice that allows you to control men and their sexual habits like puppets on strings, while keeping yourself safe from their advances.

“Until the day, of course, that someone gets past your armor and under your skin. Someone who actually makes you want his advances instead of fearing them. Someone who makes you jealous of every woman you ever made him dance for.” She paused again, her eyes far away. A soft smile had replaced her sneer. Edward knew that Emmett had put that smile there. Emmett, with his imposing features and intimidating stature, hiding a heart of gold.

“I had no idea,” Edward said quietly. “I always tried to understand what the attraction was between you two, but he never let on. Never alluded to anything like what you went through. I’m so sorry, Rosalie. Truly.”

“Don’t be. It was years ago. I knew Emmett would never spill my secrets. He’s as trustworthy as the day is long. I had to work at him for two years to get him to reveal even an inkling of what was going on with you. I still don’t know anything beyond a sick grandmother, a big house and a lot of bills. But it was enough to know you wouldn’t last in this business.

“Still, I hoped to get more out of you than two years,” she said wistfully. “You could have been a successful escort for many years to come. You’re not even twenty-five - you haven’t peaked yet. Not even close.”

His huffed a small, perfunctory laugh. “That’s flattering, I suppose.” His expression turned grim. “So that’s it, then? You’re letting me go?”

Her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Isn’t that why you’re here? To give your notice?”

“Yes. And no.” He raked his hand anxiously through his hair. “I’d like to stay on a bit longer, if the sex isn’t a deal breaker.”

Her forehead creased in confusion. “I don’t understand. What are you proposing?”

He took a deep breath. “The truth is, I need the money for a little while longer. I have an opportunity that may get me back into playing music, which was always my first love; but it’s over a month away. I’d like to give more than two weeks’ notice, if you’d be willing to keep me on the payroll.”

He swallowed back the bile that had risen in his throat. He hated asking her for an extension like that. He hated that he needed to.

Rosalie was still frowning when she replied. “I’d love nothing more than to keep you on the payroll, Edward. But you’ve kind of put me between a rock and a hard place here. As you’re fully aware, I can’t require you to provide sex to our customers, any more than I can promise it to them. I like keeping this business on the right side of the law, at least as far as technicalities go. But bad word of mouth is a killer for me. If word gets around that my escorts don’t deliver, you’d best believe our clients will find ones who do. How can I in good conscience schedule you for dates when I risk losing every single one of those women if they were after a service you no longer provide?”

Edward grimaced, sighing in frustration. “You know your clientele better than anyone else does. Schedule me on dates with the least likelihood of sex being involved. Social functions, parties, reunions. A lot of women don’t want anything more than a public appearance, and you know I’m more than up to that challenge.”

He cringed at the desperation that had crept into his voice. He despised being beholden to anyone, and the piteous look on his boss’s face only made it worse. First Charlotte, now Rosalie. If he had a scrap of savings in the bank to live on, he would get up and walk out of this office right now.

Rosalie sighed and turned to the laptop computer on her desk, pulling up Edward’s schedule for the month. “This coming weekend should be fairly safe - a business dinner Friday, then another reunion Saturday. I had planned to send you to Portland next weekend,” she informed him as she scrolled through the calendar. “Your regulars there are missing you. But I know why they’re missing you, so that’s problematic, at best.”

He knew exactly to whom she was referring, and she was right. She pressed her lips together and scrolled some more. “Well, if I skip the Portland trip, I can send you to another one of those silly college parties instead. I had a Jessica Stanley call just yesterday, quite insistent that you be the one to escort her to some big Greek system gala at the Four Seasons. That sounds like a ‘make my ex-boyfriend jealous’ occasion if I’ve ever heard one.”

Edward smiled in relief. “Definitely. I’m sure I can handle that one.”

Rosalie looked up at him, her own smile now a genuine one. He thought this might be the first time he’d seen a glimpse of the real Rosalie Hale, and it was an eye opener. He should have trusted Emmett’s choice in women a little better.

“All right, then. We’ll play it by ear for now,” she offered. “No expectations, but no guarantees, either. I’ll do my best to make this work for both of us a little while longer. If it doesn’t, maybe I can come up with a severance package that will alleviate your worries a little.”

“Thanks,” Edward said quietly, humbly. “I appreciate that.”

The two were rising from their chairs and shaking hands when Tanya’s voice interrupted from the phone intercom on Rosalie’s desk.

“James Hunter is here to see you.”

Rose pressed her finger to the intercom and replied, “Send him in.” Then, to Edward she added, “Maybe this is a good thing. You’re leaving some very lucrative regulars in the lurch, but something tells me James will be more than happy to help pick up the slack.”

Edward knew he should have been thrilled at the prospect. But when his fellow escort graced them both with a smarmy grin upon entering the room, Edward felt some misgivings. Despite the Mr. Sensitive Ponytail Man demeanor, something about James Hunter struck him as disingenuous, at best. He remembered Emmett calling the guy a weasel, but he’d seemed more worried about Felix than James. Edward just hoped that Rosalie’s stringent screening process hadn’t missed something in either one of them.

“The infamous Edward Cullen,” James said, holding his hand out in greeting. Edward resisted wiping his palm on his pants after their handshake. “Good to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” Edward replied, forcing a smile. “Though I’m not sure what I’m infamous for.”

“Really?” James said, his incredulity almost sounding genuine. “Surely you know how legendary you are at this agency. No one has reached your level of popularity with the ladies at such a young age. You leave the rest of us fighting over your scraps just to eke out a living.”

Edward recoiled inwardly at the man’s callousness. “I’m sure you exaggerate,” he said. Before James could offer a rebuttal, he turned to their boss.

“Thanks again, Rosalie. For everything. You won’t regret it.”

She nodded and gave him another rare genuine smile. Edward watched it morph quickly to rigid plastic as she brightly greeted Mr. Hunter and asked him to have a seat.

.

.

.

Edward’s thoughts were consumed with Bella as he drove out of the downtown parking garage and headed for Charlotte’s estate. He was still trying to reconcile himself to the truth of the portrait Bella had drawn of him earlier, as inaccurate as it looked to his own judgmental eyes. James’s absurd statements about his “legendary” status at Renaissance Escorts made him wonder if Bella was right - that he didn’t see himself clearly.

He saw himself through the lens of familiarity. There was obviously a reason the idiom “familiarity breeds contempt” existed, since fault-finding was his first reaction when forced into self-examination.

This James Hunter character apparently saw him through the eyes of envy. Well, that wouldn’t last much longer. Mr. Not-So-Sensitive Ponytail Man would soon be the happy beneficiary of Edward’s impending resignation from the world of escorting.

So would Bella, and that was all he really cared about. He was one step closer to the life he wanted. And when he thought of what she meant to him what she did for him, it hit him again exactly how she saw him.

She saw him through the eyes of love.

He knew very well how that filter altered everything. Every perception, every desire, every goal. Love made him feel more, want more, try harder. Love made the effort worth it. Bella made everything worth it.

He’d come to that realization earlier, looking at that sketch she’d drawn of him. Much like her poem, it suddenly became the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen expressed on a piece of paper.

She’d drawn him in the image of her love for him.

He replayed their morning together once more, starting where he had left off before his meeting with Rosalie.

He blinked back the moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes as he looked up at Bella. He laid the sketch book on the bed and reached over to grab her hand, pulling her toward him. She happily traded the chair for the bed, sitting down beside him. He took her face in his hand and traced his thumb over her features. His feelings for her painted her in incomparable beauty to him.

“I love how you see me.” He paused, running his fingers over her deliciously plump lower lip. “I love you,” he said for at least the twentieth time since he’d first uttered the words last night. They still had not lost their luster or their novelty. He still felt the thrill of those three syllables as intensely as the first time.

She seemed to feel it, too. She said it back, immediately; and then they dissolved in another kiss. How many kisses had they shared in the last twenty-four hours? Their lips should be raw. But their hunger was insatiable, so they continued to taste one another. She claimed she missed the taste of him in her mouth - it was the one of the few sexual acts they hadn’t engaged last night. The next thing he knew, she was kissing her way down his torso, licking and nipping the soft skin of his belly until she reached the stiffening skin of his cock. Her mouth and hands took him the rest of the way there in no time.

“I love watching you get hard for me,” she whispered, her breath hot on his sex. Her eyes were that magical mixture of love and lust as they met his. “I love the way it feels.”

She wrapped her fingers around his length and flicked her tongue around his swelling head before pressing it into his slit.

“If you want me hard, then let me see you,” he murmured, pushing the terry cloth from her shoulders. She quickly undid the tie on the robe and shrugged it off, her back arching and bare breasts rising as she did so. His cock bounced upward in response, and they both laughed. The laughter stopped when she leaned forward and pressed it between her breasts, squeezing them around it so he could pump its length up and down her breastbone. She tucked her chin and began lapping at the tip of his cock with her tongue every time he thrust, until finally he gave up and simply plunged into her mouth, groaning when she opened her throat to swallow him deep.

She continued teasing him this way for what seemed like an eternity, yet still passed in the blink of an eye. Her mouth and hands were everywhere, licking, sucking, stroking. She wrapped her lips around his sac, pulling one ball at a time into her mouth and sucking rhythmically until she made him moan. Then she cupped one hand beneath them, massaging the root of his cock while taking the rest in her mouth, pushing her lips down as she pushed his balls up. She continued massaging and deep-throating him this way until he was close to erupting. He warned her, as he always did; and she responded only by stilling her lips around him to allow the exquisite release of his seed deep in her mouth. And then, while he gasped and tortured her hair between his fingers, she opened her mouth and let his cum pour out, rolling down the length of him while she lapped it back up and swallowed.

He could find no words to tell her how hot that was; what the sight of it did to him. How could he tell her how much he loved her after she’d sucked him off, without it sounding like he was only appreciative of the blow job? How could he ever describe how much more it meant - how much more she meant - than that? He’d felt it the first time she ever went down on him. It was the first time she’d done that to any man, and she chose him. It was an honor, a privilege, as much now as it was then. Maybe more so, now that the novelty was gone. She still chose him. Still wanted to please him. Still loved him.

He gazed at Bella’s graphite version of Sleeping Beauty after she left him to get a glass of water. The sketch on the bed next to him taunted him, mocking him somehow. Her vision of him was peaceful. Calm. He rarely felt that way. One worry or another had nagged at him for as long as he could remember.

But maybe he was finally finding peace in her. He felt a semblance of it now, settling in his bones as the euphoria of his climax dissipated.

“Here, I thought you might want one, too.” He looked up to see Bella approaching with two glasses of water. She handed one to him as she sat down next to him on the bed.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice coming out a whisper. He looked into her curious brown eyes, and knew his own must be heavy with the countless emotions he couldn’t put names to. He had to put a voice to them, somehow, even if the words felt short.

“No one has ever made me feel the way you make me feel. I love you . . . But it’s so much more than that.” He reached out to touch her hair, to comb through the silky, messy strands. “You’re the most beautiful thing in the world to me.”

She bit her lip slightly, in that way he loved so much. Then she nodded in understanding, and he knew she got it. Felt it, deep inside, the way he did.

He set his jaw in determination as he drove toward Charlotte’s and the Steinway awaiting him. His life still swirled with unknowns; uncertainties that made true peace of mind elusive. But there was one thing he did know for sure.

He would spend the rest of his life making sure Bella Swan saw herself the way he did.