15. Edward #2
"Lili." I stood quickly, moving around the desk to reach her before she could flee. "We need to talk."
"Is that...?" She gestured toward the photograph with a trembling hand. "Is that us?"
"Yes. And it's going to be in tomorrow's papers."
The words hit her hard. She swayed slightly, and I caught her arms to steady her, feeling the tremor that ran through her body. The familiar scent of her perfume was now mixed with something sharper—fear.
"Your Mother," she whispered. "She said this would happen. She warned me that secrets always come out."
"My Mother had us followed, photographed, turned our relationship into ammunition for her own agenda."
"But why? What does she gain from destroying us publicly?"
"Control. Leverage. The power to force me to choose between you and everything else." I pulled her closer, needing the warmth of her body against mine. "She's betting that I won't sacrifice my career for you."
"Will you?"
The question hung between us, loaded with implications that could reshape both our lives. Looking into her eyes—those expressive, trusting eyes that had first captivated me—I felt something shift fundamentally in my chest.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I honestly don't know what I'm capable of choosing when forced to pick between everything I've built and everything I want."
Instead of pushing me away, she stepped closer, her hands fisting in my shirt with desperate intensity. "Then don't choose. Not yet. Not while we can still have this."
When she kissed me, it was with the fierce urgency of someone trying to memorize a moment before it disappeared forever.
I responded with equal desperation, pouring every word I couldn't say into the touch of my lips against hers.
This kiss was different from all our previous encounters—rawer, needier, tinged with the knowledge that it might be our last.
The world beyond my office door was already burning around us, but here, in this moment, there was only the taste of her mouth and the feeling of her heartbeat against my chest.
The weight of the mahogany desk beneath my hands felt foreign, like I was touching someone else’s life. Papers scattered across its polished surface—contracts, photographs, remnants of a world that suddenly felt hollow.
Lili’s breath ghosted against my lips, warm and urgent, as she whispered the words that shattered everything.
“I love you.” Her voice was a bare thread, fragile yet unyielding, like a promise carved into stone. I felt the tremor in her body, the way her fingers dug into my shoulders, as if clinging to me could anchor her in a reality that was slipping away.
“I love you too,”I replied, the words tasting bitter and sweet on my tongue. They were true, brutally so, and that terrified me more than any threat the world had ever thrown at my feet.
Lili’s eyes, those piercing eyes that had always seen too much, searched mine as if for confirmation. Her beauty was a weapon, a force of nature, but in that moment, it was stripped bare—raw and vulnerable. I saw the turmoil there, the same storm raging inside her that mirrored my own.
We moved as if pulled by an invisible thread, our bodies colliding with a desperation that bordered on violence.
The desk, the papers, the world beyond the office walls—they all ceased to exist. There was only her, only us, and the ticking clock that hung over our heads like a guillotine.
Her hands were everywhere, tracing the lines of my suit jacket, tugging at the fabric as if it were a barrier she couldn’t bear. I felt the heat of her skin through the thin silk of her blouse, the rapid beat of her heart against my chest. Every touch was a confession, a plea, a goodbye.
“Whatever happens tomorrow,”she murmured, her lips brushing my jaw,“whatever you choose, I need you to know that this—us—was real.”
I wanted to tell her it didn’t have to be this way, that there was another path, but the lie stuck in my throat.
The truth was, I didn’t know. The weight of my family’s legacy, the blood in my veins, the choices I’d made—they all stood between us like an army.
I lifted her, setting her on the edge of the desk, the scattered papers crunching beneath her thighs.
Her skirt rode up, revealing the curve of her leg, and I felt a hunger so primal it scared me. This wasn’t just desire—it was desperation, a last grasp at something beautiful before it was torn apart.
Her lips found mine again, hungry and demanding, as if she could devour me whole and keep me safe within her.
I tasted the salt of her tears, mingled with the sweetness of her mouth, and it undid me. My hands roamed her body, mapping every curve, every dip, as if memorizing her could somehow make this moment eternal.
“Edward,”she whispered, my name a plea on her lips.“Don’t let them take this from us.”
I wanted to promise her the world, to swear I’d burn it all down if it meant keeping her. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I kissed her harder, pouring every unspoken vow into the press of our bodies, the friction of skin on skin.
Her blouse fell open under my fingers, revealing the lace of her bra, the swell of her breasts.
I paused, drinking in the sight of her, the way her chest rose and fell with her ragged breaths. She was a tempest, a force I couldn’t control, and I loved her for it.
“You’re killing me,”I groaned, my lips brushing the hollow of her throat.“You know that, right?”
She laughed, a shaky sound that broke something inside me.“Then let me,”she said, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling me back to her lips.“Let me kill you, Edward. Let me be the last thing you feel.”
Her words were a challenge, a dare, and I rose to meet it.
My hands slid down her waist, slipping beneath her skirt, finding the bare skin of her thighs. She shivered, her nails digging into my back, as I traced the edges of her lace panties, teasing the line where fabric met skin.
“Edward,”she gasped, her hips arching into my touch.
With a swift motion, I tore the flimsy barrier away, her gasp of surprise mingling with a moan of anticipation. She was wet, impossibly so, her arousal coating my fingers as I slipped inside her.
“Fuck,”she whispered, her head falling back, exposing the long line of her throat.“You have no idea what you do to me.”
I did know. I knew the way her body responded to mine, the way she trembled when I touched her, the way she clung to me like I was her only lifeline.
But knowing didn’t make it any easier. It only made the ache in my chest sharper, the fear of losing her more real.
I kissed my way down her body, my lips trailing over her breasts, her stomach, until I was kneeling before her, her legs draped over my shoulders. She was a sight to behold, her eyes dark with desire, her lips parted in a silent plea.
“Don’t stop,”she whispered, her hands tangling in my hair.
I didn’t. I buried my face between her thighs, my tongue tracing the contours of her, tasting her sweetness, her desperation. She cried out, her body arching off the desk, her fingers clutching at the air as if to anchor herself.
“Say it again,”I murmured, my lips brushing her most sensitive spot.“Say you love me.”
“I love you,”she gasped, her voice raw and broken.“I love you, I love you, I love you.”
Her words were a mantra, a prayer, and they shattered something inside me.
I couldn’t hold back anymore. I rose to my feet, my trousers unbearably tight, my member throbbing with need.
I ripped open my belt, my underpants falling to the floor, and stepped closer, my body pressing against hers.I thrust into her, filling her in one swift motion, her gasp of pleasure echoing in the silent room.
She was tight, impossibly so, her body gripping me like a vice.
I groaned, my head falling back, as I savored the feel of her, the way she enveloped me, and claimed me as her own.
We moved together, our bodies finding a rhythm that was both familiar and desperate.
The desk creaked beneath us, the papers scattering further as we sought connection in the face of impending separation.
Every thrust was a plea, every kiss a goodbye, every touch a promise we both knew might be broken by morning.
“Edward,”she whispered, her nails digging into my back.“Harder.”
I gripped her hips, pulling her closer, driving into her with a ferocity that bordered on violence. The room was filled with the sound of our bodies colliding, the wet slap of skin on skin, our ragged breaths intertwining.
“Fuck,”I groaned, my control slipping away.“Lili, I’m—”
“Don’t stop,”she pleaded, her body tightening around me.“Not yet. Not ever.”
I thrust into her harder, faster, our bodies moving as one, our breaths syncing as we climbed toward the edge.
“Together,”I whispered, my lips brushing hers.“Always together.”
She nodded, her eyes locked on mine, as we teetered on the brink. And then, with a cry that was equal parts pleasure and pain, we fell, our bodies convulsing, our release crashing over us like a wave.
I collapsed on top of her, my forehead pressing against hers, our hearts pounding in unison.
The room was silent, save for our ragged breaths and the distant hum of the city outside.
We lay together on the leather sofa in my office, her head on my chest while I traced patterns on her bare shoulder. The late afternoon light streaming through the windows felt like a spotlight on our vulnerability.
"What happens now?" she asked quietly.
"I don't know. The photograph will be published tomorrow. There will be questions, investigations, consequences for both of us."
"And your Mother's ultimatum?"
"Remains in effect. Choose my career and family, or choose you."
My phone buzzing interrupted the moment. Daphne's name flashed on the screen, and I answered reluctantly.
"Edward?" Daphne's voice was tight with confusion and concern. "I just received the strangest call from a journalist asking about rumors of you being romantically involved with Lili. How did they know?"
I met Lili's eyes, seeing my own exhaustion and dread reflected there. "It's complicated, Daphne."
"How complicated? Because this person seemed to think there was some scandal brewing about professional misconduct and conflicts of interest. They said they had photographs, Edward.
Multiple photographs spanning weeks. They wanted to know if I was aware of the 'ongoing nature of the inappropriate relationship. ' What photographs?"
The clinical phrasing made me wince. "Where are you now?"
"In London. I came to town for shopping and received this call completely out of the blue. Edward, please tell me this is some sort of misunderstanding. Your relationship can’t go public, not yet."
Lili was already reaching for her clothes, the magic of our stolen moment evaporating under the weight of reality. I watched her dress with efficient movements, her face carefully blank.
"I'm afraid it's not a misunderstanding," I said finally. "And I suspect you'll be receiving more calls like that in the coming days."
"My God, Edward. What have you done?"
Before I could answer, another call came through—this time from Mother.
"Edward, I trust you've had time to consider your options. The deadline for your decision is eight o'clock tomorrow morning. The Telegraph wants your statement by then."
"And if I don't provide one?"
"Then they'll run the story without your input, and the narrative will be shaped entirely by speculation and sources who may not have your best interests at heart." Her pause was calculated for maximum impact.
“Choose wisely, Edward. Miss Anderton's visa status, her employment prospects, her ability to remain in this country—all of it hinges on how you handle the next twenty-four hours. I can make her departure comfortable, or I can ensure it becomes quite difficult indeed.”
The line went dead, leaving me alone with Lili and the wreckage of our carefully hidden world.
"What did she say?" Lili asked, though her expression suggested she already knew.
"That I have until tomorrow morning to choose. My career and family, or you."
"And if you choose me?"
"Then we both lose everything."
She nodded, as if she'd expected this outcome all along. "Then I suppose we both know what you have to choose."
"Lili—"
"Don't." She held up a hand to stop me. "Don't make promises you can't keep. Don't tell me love conquers all when we both know it doesn't."
She moved toward the door with dignity that broke my heart.
"I'll make this easy for you, Edward. I'll leave quietly, with dignity, before this becomes a circus that destroys us both.
I won't be the reason you lose everything you've worked for, and I won't let your Mother turn me into a weapon against you. "
"I don't want you to leave."
"But you're not going to stop me, are you?"
The question hung in the air like an accusation, and my silence was answer enough.
"I thought so," she said quietly. "Goodbye, Edward. For what it's worth, I don't regret any of it."
She left without looking back, and I was alone with the photograph that had the power to destroy everything I'd worked for—and the woman I'd discovered I couldn't live without.
Mother's ultimatum echoed in my mind.
Choose wisely. or Lili loses everything.
The cruel irony was that no matter what I chose, we'd already lost everything that mattered. Mother had orchestrated the perfect checkmate—every move I could make would result in losing either my career or the woman I loved. And in the morning, I'd have to decide which loss I could live with.
The photograph stared back at me from my desk, a moment of genuine happiness now transformed into evidence of professional misconduct. Love as liability. Joy as grounds for disbarment.
I finally understood why Mother had never remarried after Father's death.
Love was too dangerous when you had an empire to protect.