I do not/ will not own Twilight (nor am I Stephanie Meyer) for the entirety of this story.
It was my favourite kind of day. The kind of day where I could walk home from work with my headphones in and dance without regard for what I looked like because it was just that nice out. I was heading home from the office thinking about how in love I was, how beautiful it was out and how the day felt full of promise.
I was excited just thinking about getting home, going out onto my small balcony and reading a book on the padded bench I kept out there for days just like this one.
As I was walking out the door an older gentleman placed a hindering hand on my elbow. His lips were moving but I couldn't hear him over the music blasting in my ears.
"Miss… Miss?" I heard him ask after I pulled out one bud, his voice slow and unhurried.
"Yes?" I answered, eyeing his uniform and the stretch limo that idled behind him.
"I'm here to pick you up, Miss. Right this way," he moved awkwardly on his fragile limbs and opened the door to the car. It appeared to take quite an effort and I felt bad for him having to go to the trouble in the first place as he was obviously mistaken.
I shook my head and closed the door for him so he wouldn't have to expend any more effort on my account. "Sorry, you got the wrong girl," I apologized and started away again, lifting the earpiece up.
He started to speak again as I retreated. "Are you not Miss Isabella Swan? I was certain…"
My head turned involuntarily to the sound of my name. I took a closer look at him. His uniform was crisp and the limo new, screaming money. He had kind old eyes with white hair growing above them and sprouting out of his ears, desperately in need of trimming.
"Yes…?" I said hesitantly in question, wondering who would send a limo for me and how many Isabella Swan's might be coming out of my place of work at the same time as me. The old man moved towards the door again and I dashed to open it myself, before he could. "Who sent you?" I asked him, leaning up against the shiny black frame of the car.
"You're date, of course."
I knew it, I jumped at the revelation, sneaky bastard had something up his sleeve. We had only been seeing each other 9 months and he pulled an extravagant stunt like a limo, knowing how much I hated when he spent money on me.
I stood there biting my lip as Bob peered at me in silence. I could feel the blood rushing to my face with my frustration just think about the expense.
"Miss?" the driver gestured to the seat which did look remarkably comfortable.
"How about this…" I readied myself for a compromise with the old man. "What's your name?"
"Miss?" he asked looking confused.
"You're name, something you call yourself…"
"Bob?"
"BOB!!" I yelped, excited we were getting somewhere. "Bob. Great name. So I'll call you Bob; we stop with this 'Miss' business and you just call me Bella." I waved my hand in front of my face to shoo away the horrible title.
"Please get in the car, Miss Bella," he nodded, his face grave but his eyes were laughing.
"Well, it's a start," I grumbled, sliding into the heated leather seats.
xXxXxXx
People were trying to see past the tint of the limo's window, trying to get a peek inside. The street was lit up with lights coming from the huge jumbo screens and flashing lights of Times Square.
I usually avoided Manhattan at all cost though somehow, just then, I was sitting in a limo outside the Crowne Plaza. The partition dividing me and Bob slid down, making a quiet whirring sound with its decent.
"I took the liberty of checking you in, Miss Bella," Bob said passing a black leather bound folder through the opening. "You are in the penthouse suite and refreshments will be waiting—"
"But—" I started. Bob didn't seem to hear me (it may have been all that hair in his ears) and kept mumbling instructions.
"…the hotel manager has been notified of your pending arrival and will escort you personally. I will be back in the morning to take you to the airport."
"Airport?!"
My door opened spilling light into the large cab of the car. When I looked back to Bob, the partition had just finished sliding back into place. Another man in uniform held the door open and gestured for me to get out. A gentleman in a suit waited a few paces behind him on the sidewalk. As I stepped out of the car, I noticed a few people had there cell phones out snapping photo's of what they probably assumed was a famous person arriving at the hotel for some torrid affair.
Even the paparazzi waiting, who seemed to be ever present outside hotel like that one, snapped off a few shots.
"Miss Swan," the suited man greeted, holding his hand out to shake. "I'm James Donnelly, the manager here at the Crowne Plaza Times Square. Can I tell you how pleased we are to have stay with us?"
The door to the limo was shut behind me and I cast a quick glance back at the sound. Bob sped off leaving a little cloud of dust as he burned rubber getting back into traffic. Turning back to James, I took hold of his hand.
"Airport?" I breathed, still stunned, by way of greeting.
xXxXxXx
James left me in a room larger in size than my apartment, saying he'd be back in two hours to escort me to the restaurant.
There was a heavy cream envelope with my name inscribed on the outside waiting on the coffee table. My full name.
Isabella.
It was not written in my boyfriends' messy scrawl nor would he ever have call me 'Isabella'. I plucked the envelope off the table and turned it over in my hands. The paper had a velvety finish that put to shame every other envelope I had ever touched. After I pulled out the note, I read the beautiful cursive on the page.
Here you are presented with a chance at love.
Meet your Prince Charming at 8:30 sharp for a private romantic dinner in the lounge, 'Broadway 49'.
P.S. Hope you like the dress!
"The dress?" I asked aloud to the empty room and took a quick look around. It wasn't in the living area so I could only assume it was in the massive bedroom. Then I found it; on the bed there was a short black garment bag with a tag that said 'Open me!'
I hung the bag on the bathroom door and slowly undid the zipper; holding my breath as each tooth slid apart. I wondered what awaited me inside. The flaps of the bag fell to the side revealing a knee length silky number in midnight blue. I couldn't help but reach out and touch the beckoning fabric. It felt like liquid under my touch as I ran my fingers over the material, smiling.
He really outdid himself. After I was done enjoying my evening, I would be sure to rip him a new one.
Standing in front of a wall length mirror, my mouth hung open in awe at how well the dress fit me. The neckline was just revealing enough to tease any on lookers of the goods below and my curves were hugged in all the right places. I didn't own very much blue because he always liked me better in green. Though the shade looked amazing against my milky skin, I wondered why he chose an occasion like this one, to dress me up in a different colour.
As I was finishing touching up my makeup, a knock sounded at the door. I looked at the clock and noted how freakishly punctual James 'the manager here at the Crowne Plaza Times Square' really was. I ran to the door and greeted him, breathless from the short jog.
James breath caught in his throat and he looked taken aback. I felt the familiar blush heat on my cheeks. "Miss Swan!" He said. I gave him a scolding glare after having lectured him on the formalities earlier. "I mean, Bella," he backtracked, picking up my hand and kissing the knuckle. "You are a vision."
I pulled my hand away from his lips as he watched me with a hungry look in his eye. Turning my back on him, I went back into the room in search of the deathtraps that waited for me; four and a half inch silver heels that had no other purpose than to torture.
I put on the first on and it fit like a dream. Wondering what size it was I took a quick look at the sole… and did a double take. "That does not say Jimmy Choo," I groaned.
"Miss… I mean, Bella?" James called from where I left him. "I believe the young man is waiting."
"Coming." I called; thinking about taking off the shoe that was worth more than one month of my salary and wearing the sneakers I came in. I disregarded the idea almost immediately (the sneakers wouldn't have gone with the dress).
The elevator ride down was one of the longest of my life. James kept throwing me lustful glances that made my skin crawl. As soon as we hit the ground floor I got out of the confined space and left as much room between us as possible. James held the glass door to the lounge open for me and I stepped inside, thanking him. He closed it behind me and I watched his retreating figure, gleeful to finally be away from him.
Now, I have a boyfriend to yell at, I thought to myself.
I walked up to the bar where a tender stood, polishing glasses with a rag. "Champagne, please." I ordered and watched him pull out an iconic bottle I had only ever seen pictures and on television. Dom Perignon.
"No, the house please," the bar tender laughed and proceeded to pour a healthy sized flute full of the Dom before handing it to me on a napkin.
I looked around the bar and couldn't see the man of the hour. Only one booth in the place seemed to be occupied.
I thought that James had said he was waiting on me.
"Have you seen anyone else here?" I asked, "I'm supposed to be meeting someone."
He pointed to the white plush booth about halfway down the bar where I could see a man in the occupied booth flipping back and forth between some paperwork. The guy's head was down so all I could see was his odd shade of messy hair. I walked closer to him hesitantly, the clicking of my shoes echoing behind me.
"I don't have time for this right now, Tanya!!" I noticed a sleek phone attached to his ear. "Let just settle this out of court and be done with it. It's less than .05 percent of my net worth, for fuck sake."
He listened intently to the voice on the other end of the line. "I know I signed the contract but it was four years ago and I never expected anything to come of it," another pause on his side while I heard the high pitch chatter of the voice on other end. The volume was too low for me to make out what the woman was saying and I felt bad enough for eavesdropping as it was.
"Of course I can't do the show. I have a company to run. If legal had done there job properly I wouldn't even be here."
I cleared my throat. "Excuse me," I spoke softly, not wanting to interrupt what seemed to be an important conversation. His head shot up at the sound of my voice and I was frozen in place by the sheer intensity of his gaze.
His eyes were a startling green that seemingly stared right through to my soul. His bronzish hair fell messily into his eyes, a cut that would look overgrown on anyone else looked indescribably sexy on him. He wore a navy T-shirt under a fitted leather jacket and it clung perfectly to his lean, strong shoulders.
My mouth went dry at the sight of him; a reaction no man had ever elicited from me.
He looked equally stunned to see me, though I wasn't nearly as easy on the eyes as he was. I had no idea who the god in front of me was but I sure as hell wanted to.
"I'm going to have to call you back," he spoke into the receiver, not waiting for an answer before clicking the phone shut.
I stood (like an idiot) at the end of his table while he remained seated in the booth. He opened and closed his mouth a few times and I worried that maybe there was something on my face. With all of the mirrors in the lounge it would have been impossible for me to miss something like that… right?
"Umm…" I started shyly, looking at the seat across from him.
"O-Oh," he stuttered, his voice sounding even more glorious now that it wasn't hushed. "Where are my manners? Please, sit."
I did as he asked; I would probably have done anything he asked as long as he promised not to stop speaking. Taking a big swig of the champagne, I set my glass down next to his nearly empty cocktail.
The man watched me studiously, waiting to see what I'd do next.
It was apparent he wasn't going to start, so I did. "This might seem a ridiculous question but… ummm… who are you?" Was he the man I'm suppose to be meeting? Where the hell was my boyfriend?
He looked taken aback by my question and then replaced the look with a crooked grin that could make me melt. Lifting off his seat minutely, he reached across the table. "I'm Edward, Edward Cullen."
I laughed loudly at the familiar name and he smiled at my reaction, dropping his hand awkwardly. "Right," I continued to speak through my chuckle, "You're the Edward Cullen."
"I am," he said laughing with me.
"Edward Cullen, the billionaire. One of only four billionaires under the age of thirty and number 7 on—"
"People's 30 eligible under 30… yep," he jerked a thumb to his own chest, "me."
He didn't look like he was joking. I looked at his face, the one that was now emblazoned on my mind forever because of its sheer beauty. "You're not kidding, are you?"
"Nope," he shook his head, making a popping noise on the 'p'.
"Oh…"
"Would you like some more champagne?" he gestured to my nearly empty drink. I threw back what was left and nodded my agreement.
He grabbed the bartenders' attention and pointed at my glass. "Two, please."
xXxXxXx
Earlier that same day…
"No, Emmett. I really can't make it," I wished more than anything that I could spend more time with my family but it just wasn't feasible. I had 263 companies under my belt and they had thousands more subsidiaries. They demanded a disproportional amount of my time.
"It's just one round of ball, bro," he whined through the phone. "One round!!"
"I'm sorry, guy," I apologized. It seemed all I ever did anymore was apologize to him. "We're almost done on this deal with that pharmaceutical company and then, maybe we can play ball. We can play ball in Hawaii if you want."
"Are you trying to buy your brothers love?" he teased, "…cause' its working!" I laughed into the phone, missing the banter me and my siblings used to share.
"Mr. Cullen," a driver with a stretch limo called. I nodded for the elderly fellow to open the door for me while I slid in, phone still attached to my ear. I didn't recognize the driver but shrugged it off, figuring my regular driver had been detained.
The inside of the limo wasn't familiar either. Usually the cars were fairly standardized, though I wasn't about to argue with the additional features.
"I really miss you, Edward," Emmett sighed disheartened, "Mom wants to know when you're going to visit…?"
"Soon, I promise."
"That's what you said 3 weeks ago."
I sighed, not wanting to put it off any longer. "I know I said that...just as soon as this last merger is done."
"Okaaaay," he whined, "love you man."
"Love you too, Em." I clicked my phone shut and realized the anticipation for my next visit built considerably. "I gotta get home." I sighed to myself in the back seat. Finally taking a look at my surroundings, I noticed we weren't headed anywhere near my apartment. We were fairly close to Times Square (an area of the city I avoided at all costs).
"Excuse me, you're headed the wrong direction," I yelled as I pushed on the button for the divider to go down. There was a brief pause in traffic, allotting enough time for the driver to look over his shoulder at me.
"I don't believe so, sir."
I made a mental note to call the company and advised them that senility was not a quality I appreciated in my staff. "Well, I do."
"Crowne Plaza, sir?" he asked, his voice shaking. I wasn't sure if it shook with fear or age, so I decided to soften my tone.
"No. Home, please," I instructed. He started driving again but didn't change course. A moment later he pulled up along side the curb in front of the hotel.
"I'll see you in the morning, sir."
The door opened to the cool evening air and a man in a suit seemed to be waiting impatiently for me there. A few flashes of light went off in my eyes as I got out but I was accustomed to the glare and put on my shades.
"Hello, Mr. Cullen," he greeted. I hated men like him; sleazy and (more often than not) unprofessional. "If I may, sir, you are one lucky bastard."
He didn't appear to be the exception.
"My name is—" I chose that moment to interrupt.
"I honestly don't care what your name is. All I need to know is what I'm doing here!?"
The man started at my harsh tone and looked back at me with disbelief. "This way," he said, gesturing to the lobby doors, "The lady will be down in a few moments." I followed him begrudgingly to the empty lounge. This time of day it should have been packed with the after work crowd but it appeared to be just me and the bartender.
"A Manhattan, please," I requested, "and no I'm not being ironic. It's really what I want to drink." Picking up a tent card that had my name on it, I flipped it over and read the short message.
Enclosed in the folder is a contract you may recognize.
Your date should be down shortly and welcome to, 'I'm Your*s'
I flipped the card over to see if I missed any additional writing, as what I had already read made no sense.
"Your drink, sir," he slid it across the bar into my waiting hand. I picked up the leather bound folder and nodded my thanks before making my way to a booth halfway down the bar. I settled myself in and opened the first folder. At the top of the page there was a standardized form.
Print Full Name:
Oh no. This could not be what I thought it was.
Address:
Phone:
In Case of Emergency Contact:
Sign Name:
There it was. My signature. I read the short clause above.
I have read and understood all the following conditions. I, henceforth, shall be available for up to five years for the filming of a reality TV production with Twilight Television.
No, no, no, no, NO!! I flipped open my phone and hit the speed dial for my secretary's cell phone. "Go for Tanya," she answered. I hated when she answered so informally on the company's cell phone.
"Just a sec," I mumbled as I scanned through the inconsequential jargon.
"You called me, boss. 'Just a sec' should be my line." I groaned at her inability to not share her opinion.
If you choose to decline within the validity of the contract, then you may be sued for damages between 250,000 and 2million dollars by Twilight Television.
Oh good, something I can buy my way out of.
"Sorry, it's probably just a false alarm," I let out my held breath of relief. I heard her sigh into the phone impatiently, waiting for my explanation. "Four years ago I signed a contract to get onto a reality TV show looking for love, apparently I got on."
"Reality TV?!" she squealed.
"Yeah, but they'll only sue me if I don't do it," I said flipping the page. A Polaroid of myself from college lay on top of the stack.
She whined indignantly into the phone. "You have the chance of a lifetime and you're not going to go through with it!" I could picture the pout she surely was wearing on her face. "What if you really did find love?"
"I don't have time for this right now, Tanya!!" I whispered harshly. "Let just settle this out of court and be done with it. It's less than .05 percent of my net worth, for fuck sake."
"I don't think you should say no, boss. Being sued is not good for your image and definitely wouldn't be good for the company," she reasoned. "Beside, you signed a contract and the Edward Cullen I know would never back out."
"I know I signed the contract but it was four years ago and I never expected anything to come of it--"
"Admit it, boss. You're stuck. You have to do the show."
"Of course I can't do the show. I have a company to run. If legal had done there job properly I wouldn't even be here." They were supposed to have the low down on all my affairs. I can't see how they could have missed this. There would have had to be paperwork and phone calls, all with my name being thrown around.
A voice cleared at the end of my table and I looked up into a face I never thought I'd see again. My mouth dropped open but no sound would come out.
Bella Effin' Swan was standing in front of me in the most brilliant blue dress imaginable.
In her hand, she elegantly wielded a flute of champagne and I couldn't help but think how appropriate that was; a celebratory drink to commemorate finally laying eyes on her again. I had heard she was in town from an old college buddy but in a place as big as New York, never dreamed I would run into her.
"Edward…? EDWARD!?!" Tanya screamed on the other end of the line.
"I'm going to have to call you back."
I know, I know. I'm horrible at updating as it is. BUT I finished my first fanfiction today (Just Another Girl) and what better way to celebrate then starting a new one. MBM will be updated right away!!
Warning: This story will not be very long.
If you liked the chapter and wish for me to continue, you should say so in a review.