Christian offered his coldest smile. “I don’t think , Miss Swan. I execute.”

Christian adjusted his silver cufflinks. “Everyone has a price, Andrea. Even the undead.”

The air between the three of them tightened. Edward moved then—not walked, but relocated , appearing between Christian and Bella with a soft rush of displaced air.

“She’s not part of the negotiation,” Edward said. His hand brushed Christian’s wrist, and Christian flinched. Edward’s skin was frigid. Marble. Wrong .