Safe Haven by SnowQueens IceDragon.pdf

Rated MA For Mature Adult. Language & Sexual Situations

Safe Haven

By SnowQueens IceDragon

Summary : Edward Cullen is filming his new movie in Las Vegas. His only

solace is Bella, who lives and works in the luxury hotel he is staying. But

is she all she seems EXPLICIT Adult content

~*~

Chapter One

Here I am in another fucking soulless, over-styled, over-priced hotel suite. I place my

hold-all on the bed and hand a twenty-dollar bill to the over anxious, big-toothed PR

prick, who‟s hovering at the doorway.

“I‟ll find my own way around… thanks.” I mumble, by which I mean fuck off - now. The

prick, all bright smiles and warm welcome closes the door and leaves me to it.

Plasmas in all the rooms, bed the size of Texas and fucking flowers everywhere. Yep, I

am back in America, land of the free and home of the rabid teen. This will be my prison

for the next month - well at least the room has a balcony so I can smoke. I open the

Fanfiction Based On Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight Series

doors and the hot air blasts through me. I lick my lips, saliva instantly feeling cooler as

the warm air evaporates the moisture off my face. Fuck it‟s hot. Only the Americans

would have the arrogance to build a fuck-off oasis, a Mecca for gamblers in the middle

of the bloody desert. I peer cautiously over the balcony. No paps… yet. It is mid

afternoon and the sun is blindingly bright. I sit down on the floor of the balcony, pull on

my Raybans, take my fags out from my shirt pocket, light up and start re-reading my

script.

The light begins to fade around 7.00. I glance up. The strip has come to life, all lights

against a backdrop of a fading aquamarine and opal sunset. Oh… I get it now . I watch

transfixed as the sun fades. Fuck it‟s stunning, lit up like Christmas, or Harrods or some

shit like that. A timid knock at the door distracts me from the view. What the fuck now?

“Come-in.”

Fuck - a little girl… well a petite young woman on closer inspection. All nylon suit and

chestnut hair tied back and tucked under some ludicrous cap, staring intently at the

floor. She has clear, translucent, beautiful skin and a slight rosy flush on her cheeks.

She‟s looking anywhere but at me.

“Would you like a turn-down service sir?”

Normally I‟d say fuck-off – well not in so many words to a funny-looking tense young

woman.

“Please.” The word is out before I can stop myself and I watch as she flushes crimson

and walks self-consciously into the bedroom. I follow, drawn - and gaze at her as she

turns down the bed. She takes out a mint from her pocket and places it on the pillow.

Why do they do this? I‟ll have just brushed my teeth when I come to bed – I won‟t want

fucking chocolate. Her small hand reaches into her other pocket. I know what this

means. Not the petals… too many fucking flowers in here already.

“Please… no petals.” I ask.

She looks up at me, finally. Bright, bottomless, brown eyes fearful – as if she‟s

committing some major transgression, long dark lashes fanning across her pale cheeks

as she glances down uncertainly.

“Please.” I say again. Perhaps her English isn‟t very good. She frowns, a small crease

appearing between her brows. What would it be like to kiss that crease? Shit. Where the

fuck had that thought come from? She bites her full pink lower lip. Shit. Something

pulls deep in my guts and then her small pink tongue darts out and licks that lip. Fuck.

Desire… from nowhere, for this funny-looking girl. She nods briefly and heads for the

door. As she passes me, I catch the name badge on her small, pert breast … Christabel .

“Good evening Sir.” And she‟s gone – out of the door.

I shake my head and run my fingers through my hair. God I really have to stop doing

that, a nervous habit that has been photographed to fuck for over a year now. Well it‟s

better than picking my nose. Christ I‟m fucking famished. I don‟t want to risk the

restaurant so I look for the room service menu, besides my agent will be up soon. We

have things to discuss – more fucking work no doubt. I am dog-tired and need a rest –

but hey I‟ll only be flavour of the month for a while and have to seize the fucking day. I

think about calling home – but it‟s three in the morning in London and I don‟t think the

aged parents will appreciate a wake up call quite this early. My mobile rings. Where the

fuck is it? My holdall – still on the bed.

“Yeah?”

“Hi Ed – can I come up?”

“Sure Taylor - room 1114.”

I press stop on the phone. What would he have for me now? Yet more scripts no doubt.

Call time for the shoot is 5 am. Fuck that is early. Too fucking early. I pick the chocolate

mint off the pillow recalling the little girl and my weird random reaction to her. Shit –

I‟ve just brushed my teeth. Well maybe for breakfast. I clamber into bed and pick up

one of the scripts that Taylor in his unbounded enthusiasm has left me and begin to

read.

Day one has gone well. The director really knows his shit and what‟s really refreshing is

having the writer on hand for guidance for a change… follow her vision. And of course

there is Tanya. Beautiful, spoilt, sexy, voracious, fucked up Tanya, my leading lady…

we‟d worked together once before, years ago – when we‟d both been struggling actors,

before she started believing her own hype. Now she‟s a scary older lady that I have to be

careful to keep at arms length – I so don‟t want to go there … again. I don‟t need any of

her fucked up shit. What I need is a shower.

I‟ll say one thing for the Yanks… they know plumbing – big time. Best showers on the

planet by far. Whilst washing my hair I marvel that I‟ve managed to evade the rabid

teens both to and from location and I briefly wonder how long that will last. I clamber

out of the shower refreshed and glowing and I hear the timid knocking on the door. Oh

turn-down Babe… hmmm – this should be interesting.

“Come-in” I call.

She enters, shy, retiring, staring at the floor again.

“Would you like a turn-down service Sir?”

She peeks up at me with her dark, dark eyes and I‟m wet and draped in a towel and she

flushes socialist red embarrassing us both.

“Err… please,” I mutter and step back to let her into the bedroom.

She trips over her own feet and falls, but instinctively I catch her. She‟s so light. There‟s

nothing of her. Does she eat? And she smells of flowers and cinnamon or some homely

and comforting shit like that. Thank fuck I tucked in the towel or I‟d be socialist red too.

“Are you okay?” I ask keeping my shit polite.

She gasps and the red quotient increases ten fold.

“Sorry,” she mumbles and she‟s obviously terrified. Christ - am I that scary with no

clothes.

“Hey it‟s okay… you just fell over your own feet.” I give her my best reassuring,

concerned smile as I right her, let go and step back. See no hands . She stares down at

her knotted fingers and mumbles a thank you and an apology and scoots over to the

bed.

“Skittish little thing aren‟t you?” Shit – I‟ve said that out loud.

She glances up for a split second, her dark eyes impossibly wide. She really is seriously

pretty… maybe even beautiful if she‟d just take her hair down and out from under the

hideous cap thing she‟s wearing. She ignores my statement and her small hands quickly

and efficiently turn the bed down – as they must do to all the beds on this floor – and

maybe more floors. I don‟t like that thought for some inexplicable reason. She places a

mint on the pillow and then looks towards me briefly questioningly – though not

directly at me I notice, her flush has diluted to a rosy glow. Yeah, beautiful – and my

attention strays to her name badge again, over her breast. Christabel. A beautiful name

for a fucking beautiful girl.

“Petals?” she asks and her voice is soft, soothing and I can‟t place the accent.

“No thanks.”

“Will that be all?” She asks me nervously, biting her lip - her eyes on the floor again.

Whoa… small white even fucking teeth. Why won‟t she look at me? I realise that she‟s

asking me this because I‟m standing there, naked except for my towel looking at her

expectantly.

“Err… no thanks.” I mutter completely fucking distracted and then she licks her lower

lip again and I‟m gone – desire coursing through me – stronger than yesterday. Fuck –

what is it about her. She looks fucking fragile and vulnerable and I have an

overwhelming urge to protect her… and an overwhelming urge to ask her to stay…

maybe talk for a while. Fuck that.

“Good evening Sir.” She mumbles and then she‟s gone. And I release the breath I‟ve

been holding. Fuck – what the fuck was all that about - some silly little girl… what the

fuck.

~*~

Chapter Two

Day two. What a fucking disaster. Tanya fucking Denali makes an outrageous pass at

me in my trailer… what could I do? She‟s got her tongue in my mouth and her hand

down my trousers… well it just seems rude not too. Not to indulge her little fucked up

fantasies. But fuck she‟s a crazy bitch who likes it rough… much rougher than I like it.

Make-up will have fun covering up the bites and scratches she‟s left on me. I can

envisage the teasing now… The mad bitch is also staying in the hotel – so she‟ll be hard

to avoid. Maybe I should ask to be moved… but then I won‟t see turn-down Babe … ‘So’

my conscience snarls at me… Well – she‟s cute and clean and sweet – and has probably

never jumped on some horny fucking actor who should know better.

And of course the rabid teens have cottoned on somehow to where we‟re all staying.

Fuck but they‟re crazy bitches too and they‟ve flocked downstairs… it‟s all out of bounds

now. The shower washes disastrous day two and Tanya Denali off me and I slowly

unwind. After I‟m dry I pull on my jeans and a clean t-shirt and grab a beer from the

mini-bar.

I am slowly making my way through the room service menu, that means Hamburger

and fries tonight … the meal America has bequeathed the world… fries… Ha – they‟re

called chips where I come from. Oh I miss home. Walking my dog by the Thames –

down to the village… I say village – it‟s really a suburb of London but it has it‟s own

village pond and the best pub on the planet. The Sun Inn…. hmmm Adnams beer – you

just can‟t get it in the States – what I‟d give for a pint.

I hear the timid knock and I smile.

Turn-down Babe is here.

“Come-in.” I put my beer bottle on the side table.

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