In order to keep these chapters synched with those of OSC, I've taken down the outtake of the Desperate Relations scene in ch17. I'll post that as a separate outtake until I've written the preceding chapters and can incorporate it into a full chapter 17 EPOV.

"Edward, Edward! Over here, Edward!"

"Are you dating Maggie O'Neill?"

"Why did you walk out of the KIIS-FM interview?"

"I love you! Marry me, Edward!"

"What do you think of Bella Swan?"

Edward stared straight ahead and allowed the larger man to clear the way to the gym door. He hadn't wanted to leave the house for his daily workout, but his agent and personal assistant, Emmett McCarty, had twisted his arm. Actually, Emmett had thundered, teased, and been a general pain in the ass until Edward agreed, just to shut him up.

The renowned actor had good reasons for not wanting to leave his mansion, and the throng of rapacious photographers topped the list. Screaming, grabbing fans weren't something he liked, either, but he endured it in order to do the one thing he did enjoy - performing.

Edward Anthony Cullen was beautiful, wealthy, talented, and the perfect age. At 26, he was old enough that housewives didn't feel it was a perversion for him to star in their fantasies, yet young enough that he still routinely graced the covers of teen magazines.

He had a house in LA, one in New Orleans, and another on the Cape in Massachusetts. Several Golden Globes were stuffed in a storage closet, and a critically acclaimed film currently showing was generating Oscar buzz. He already had two projects lined up after he finished with Desperate Relations, one he was now shooting. Doors opened instantly to any club, restaurant, or other venue he wanted to enter. When he did go out, women gathered in herds for his taking.

Edward Cullen lived the good life, but he couldn't care less.

"Come on, Eddie. I need to be done by eight or Rosie's gonna have my balls," Emmett whined.

"I thought she had already twisted those off in her red-tipped talons," he remarked dryly.

Emmett shoved him hard into the wall. "Shut the fuck up, man!" Then he laughed and clapped his client-slash-boss on the back. "You're right, though."

Shaking out his now-throbbing shoulder, Edward rolled his eyes. "Idiot."

"You just wait, Ed. One of these days, some woman is gonna rope, hogtie, and brand you, and I'll be sitting back eating popcorn. The fall off your high horse is gonna be epic!" He rubbed his hands together in mischievous anticipation.

"Mm-hmm," Edward replied with a frown. He suddenly felt uneasy, and he knew exactly why.

"So you'll spot me today?" Emmett flexed his bulging muscles.

"No, I'm in the pool."

A little later, as water flowed smoothly over his skin, Edward's mind roamed while his body executed the familiar strokes with minimal direction. He'd suppressed it earlier, but with no distractions and no one he needed to mislead, the truth stared him in the face.

There was someone who might do all those things Emmett suggested, and that thought terrified him.

Edward was known for his quintessential bachelor existence. He had carefully crafted and perfected his public persona as a playboy, and nothing could be allowed to threaten it. The last time he took any sort of sincere interest in a woman was over seven years ago, and their 'relationship' had damaged him irrevocably. After that fateful night, he pieced himself together just enough to face life and, in doing so, promised no one would get close enough to hurt him again. He wouldn't allow it.

Yet from the moment Edward saw her, he knew the vow was in danger of being broken. Something about her drew him in, and he couldn't figure out what it was. There didn't seem to be any obvious reason for her uniqueness, but somehow Isabella Swan had done what hundreds of girls before her had failed to do. The kicker was that she didn't try to, nor did she know of her accomplishment.

Perhaps it was her simple, natural beauty. She didn't need heavy makeup or flashy clothes to stand out; Isabella herself served as the accent piece to whatever outfit she donned. Even when she trudged out of the studio in yoga pants and a baby doll tee after a long day of filming, she was stunning.

Or it could be her eyes that compelled him. A rich walnut brown, they were deep and warm, open and guileless. When he looked into them during a scene, he felt the overwhelming urge to draw a sword and jump onto a rearing horse to slay dragons in her honor. But when those same eyes sparked with fire, he felt he would fare better facing said mythical beasts than challenging her. Although the idea of him in a heated argument with her held some appeal…

Edward sputtered and coughed as he surfaced after completing a flip turn. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he inhaled water while inverted. He couldn't remember the last time that had happened – the span would be measured in years.

Mark that down as the next number on his ever-growing mental list of reasons why he needed to stay as far away from her as possible. Of course, given the scene on today's shot list, there wasn't going to much space between them at all. He hoped his professional demeanor would remain in place throughout filming, especially when he ran his fingers over bare skin or wrapped a hand in her long, lustrous hair.

Releasing an irritated groan, Edward returned to the side of the pool to push off again. He needed to concentrate on his current activity instead of the upcoming day on the set. His Speedo was not forgiving when it came to the kinds of thoughts he had been about to entertain – which brought him back to yet another hazard Isabella Swan posed.

Edward prided himself on personal control in all aspects of his life. He depended on no one and did his best to project this closed-off personality. Even when completely submerging himself in a character, he never lost the iron grip on his innermost emotions; it protected him from the kind of hurt he experienced before.

Isabella tested his restraint like no other ever had – on set and off. After five unsuccessful minutes of attempting to swim without drowning himself, Edward climbed out of the pool and went to take a very cold shower. He may have lost this battle, but he couldn't lose the war.

Emmett met him in the lounge, where he was listening to an iPod with eyes closed. If ever he needed a way to escape his mind's punishment, music was the answer.

Kicking at one of Edward's feet, Emmett chucked a thumb toward the exit.

"Let's go, man. You gotta get to the set, and I have a phone call to make."

The actor grabbed his gym bag and simulated dragging a heavy ball chained to his leg as the two left the building. Emmett flicked him off and unlocked the doors to his Escalade.

"Did you get the sides I left on the island this morning?"

Edward shrugged. "I saw them, but I'm good for today."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Emmett smirked and waggled his eyebrows. "Not much dialogue to memorize, huh, hot stuff?"

"Shut up, Emmett," he replied automatically as he reclined the seat and pulled a worn baseball hat low over his brow.

"You are one lucky shit. You get paid to grope Isabella Swan's tits! That girl is pert."

Edward sat up and punched Emmett hard in the arm, but the larger man just laughed.

"Less time in the water and more time with the weights, pretty boy. Or were you trying to tickle me?"

"What the hell? You're eleven years older than she is, you perv," he growled. "Don't you need to make a call?" Taking a deep breath, he slunk down in his seat and fought the urge to throw another punch.

"Damn, Eddie. Slow your roll." Emmett glanced at Edward out of the corner of his eye. "Someone's getting a little worked up. If I didn't know better, I'd think that someone had the hots for his lovely leading lady."

"Hardly," Edward scoffed. He conjured his most convincing voice. "I'll go as far as cute, but she's way too ordinary to be considered more than that. My whole point is that she's not even old enough to buy alcohol, much less be fantasy material for someone approaching middle age."

"Thirty-one not middle-aged!" Emmett retorted. "Eleven years is nothing…what the hell? I don't even know why we're talking about this. Your hawt cousin keeps me more than satisfied." Puckering his lips, he made slurpy kisses in Edward's direction.

When they reached the studio, Emmett pulled up to the main complex where Edward's dressing room was located.

"Do you want me to pick you up or drop off a car?"

"Leave the Vanquish."

"Sure thing. Have a fun time!" he goaded with a wink.

Edward didn't even bother to reply. He was running a little late and still had to get ready. His regimen wasn't as lengthy as his female castmates, but he certainly wouldn't be making actor's call on time today. However, his tardiness might work out to his benefit. The less time he had before the cameras rolled, the fewer possibilities there would be to entertain unproductive thoughts.

When he saw Alice Brandon and her entourage enter Stage 8 just before him, he silently thanked his lucky timing. If his fortune held, most of the preparations would be complete, and they immediately would begin blocking the scene's movements.

Just in front of the door, he paused, ensured his expression was appropriately neutral, and inhaled deeply. It truly was show time for him.

As soon as Edward stepped foot on the stage floor, he felt all eyes turn his way. This sort of attention was routine in his life, but normally, it didn't faze him. Today, however, wasn't a normal day for him. Today, for the first time in his acting career, he was nervous.

Today, he would be performing a sex scene with one beautiful, intriguing, disarming woman named Isabella Swan.