Married to the Mob: Fighting for Freedom Teaser

“I wanted to help, Edward,” I grumped, sitting on the rocking chair in the nursery.

“You really shouldn’t be breathing in the paint fumes, dolce,” he chided. “I would hate for our little one be short a few brain cells because his mother was stubborn.” He shot me a look. I sighed, nodding slowly. “Besides, I finished the painting while you were conked out after I’d fucked you stupid.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what happens after we make love. I turn into a blob of idiocy,” I snorted. “And to think, I got into Northwestern University.”

“Bella, you’re brilliant, but my mom said that having a baby changes your body chemistry, which obviously includes your brain,” he said, sitting down on the ottoman. He looked so handsome with his multi-faceted, thick hair, piercing green eyes and a jaw that could cut glass. “Bella, stop ogling me.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “You’re just so pretty.”

“I’m not pretty,” he scoffed. “Handsome, love. I’m handsome. Hot, even!”

“You’re all that, too, but I swear, you’re like this supermodel and I’m ginormous. It’s not even fair,” I frowned. He sat forward, arching a brow over his chic glasses. Even his specs were hot. Being married to Mobward was going to give me a god damned complex. “What?”

“Bella, you’re beyond beautiful. And do not even say you’re ‘ginormous.’ Your doctor is concerned that you’re so tiny,” he argued.

“I’m gaining weight,” I said. “I eat like a damned horse, but my metabolism is wonky.” I blinked up at him. “You’re coming to my appointment this week, right? Dr. Myerson said she’d try to determine the gender again.”

“Dolce, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Jacob is taking you to the office and then we’re going to the doctor together,” he said softly, cupping my face. I stared at him, reveling in his love and tenderness. He only ever showed it to me and his family. “What is it?”

“I love you, Mobward,” I whispered.

“Love is too small a word, cara,” he smiled, kissing me. “And don’t call me Mobward.”

“It’s who you are, baby,” I giggled.

“No, I’m a husband, soon, a father and the CEO of a lucrative company,” he argued. “Being the leader of the Consortium is only one facet of my personality. Not all of it.”

“You’re right,” I nodded. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tease. What I should do is force you to talk about that anxiety issue you had when Mike and Tyler came the other day.”

“I’m fine, Bella,” he said, shaking his head.

“That panic attack says otherwise, Edward,” I spat. “Why did you freak out? Talk to me, please? You hired me to be a part of your organization to provide counseling to your men. Talk about being hypocritical if you don’t follow your own damn advice.”

He huffed out a breath. “I’ll talk about it. I swear, but not in here. This place is happiness, joy and love encompassed into a room. What I felt? Total fucking opposite, Bella.” He held out a hand, tugging me to my feet. We left the nursery and playroom, walking down to the deck. It was raining, but we were protected by an overhang. Edward sat down on a chaise lounge, pulling me between his legs and resting his large hands on my belly. He kissed my neck, breathing deeply.

“Whenever you’re ready, baby,” I whispered, tracing the veins in his hands and idly circling his wedding band.

It had been almost a year to the day since Edward had been abducted from his bachelor party, taken by his rivals Royce King, a Bratva monster and his own uncle, Stephan Romani. They’d allied together with Marcus Volturi but strong-armed him out of their alliance. It was with Marcus’s assistance that we were able to find Edward alive. Damaged, physically tortured, but alive. The whole situation was fucked up and it thrust me head-long into the dark world of organized crime. I’d claimed rite of vengeance, killing Royce King in cold-blood.

When Edward was recovered and he woke up from his surgery, he was more concerned about me. I was in a dark, dark place. I had taken a life. I’d killed someone and it had fucked me up. Edward didn’t want me to fall into complete darkness. So, he’d helped me and with his help, his love and his strength, I was able to recover and find my way back into the light. Granted, I was forever changed, but okay.

It was clearly obvious Edward that needed my help. He needed my help as a wife, a friend, a lover and an amateur therapist.

Inspiration  for the nursery and playroom

Isabella Cullen

Edward 'Mobward' Cullen

Bella and Edward's home

Backyard