"You're such a great friend, Bella."

The moment I heard those words- drunken, laughing words rendered almost unintelligible by a heavy tongue and heavier eyes- I suddenly understood what it meant to have your heart broken. Every story, song, movie, book that I had come across that detailed the feeling of having having your fragile heart ripped straight out of your chest and stomped on suddenly made perfect sense to me. And with six short words, followed immediately with a loud snore that indicated that Edward Cullen had fallen asleep, I gave up on the boy that I had dedicated all fifteen years of my life to loving in secret. I was surprised by how easy it was to abandon such a deep-seeded infatuation, how clean the break was. No fragmentation, his mother, a doctor who had eventually grown tired with her family and would soon walk out not five years after my revelation, would have said. No splinters. No need for surgery. A remarkably clean break. Marvellous.

I thought it had been, then. I foolishly assumed that once I had made the message clear that Edward was no longer welcome in my life, he would take the hint and leave. Edward, for all his virtues, lacked that of patience. And of understanding. These were characteristics that had identified him even when we had been children playing in our sandboxes, when Emmett still spoke to him and loved him and cherished him. It shouldn't have surprised me that he returned from Harvard Business school with a fiery look in his eye and a job offer for me. It shouldn't have surprised me that Carlisle chose Edward, by then groomed for what his father would place upon his shoulders, bypassed Emmett and handed over control of Cullen Industries to his second-born, creating a rift that I doubted would ever heal. Emmett's absence at his father's funeral two years later cemented the rift, causing even deeper fissures in what had seemed to be an indestructible family unit.

I don't remember Carlisle's funeral- I remember tears and holding onto Esme's shoulder while standing beside Edward, who's face was too lined and set in stone for a man of only 28. Even then, he had looked older beyond his years, hard and impenetrable and painfully beautiful in his black Armani suit and gold Rolex, his green-gold eyes fastened on the carved white casket as it was lowered into the ground. I remember that it rained, which in itself was not a surprise in Seattle. It always rained. But while every other mourner, even the devoted and devastated Esme, sought shelter inside the magnificent cathedral from the raging storm, Edward remained, his hard face unchanged by the slapping wind, with a continuous stream of rain flowing off the line of his straight, proud nose. I do remember running back from inside the gilt and dappled inside of the cathedral, running and running across the soggy, mud-soaked patch of grass and ignoring the mud that was splashing itself up my bare legs and onto the skirt of my black Roland Mouret dress. I did what I had not done in years that day. I pulled the boy I had once loved so passionately into my arms and held him as he wept, and as he finished, letting the rain wash away any trace of his tears, he whispered again the same words that had so damaged me six years ago.

"I have a situation I need you to take care of," Edward Cullen told me while discretely adjusting his monogrammed gold and diamond cufflinks. He lowered his head slightly, his shock of dark bronze hair the only uncontrollable thing about his appearance. The rest of him- the black silk Dior Homme suit, the carefully shaved jaw, the flinty emerald eyes- was the picture of control, success, heartlessness. All things, I thought, he embodied rather well. His full lips barely moved as he kept his eyes locked on the boardroom door, awaiting today's potential clients. "Aria was still at the apartment when I left. Make sure she's taken care of."

I tried to keep the grimace from my face as I watched the Chinese delegates from Shang International, the country's largest energy magnate, begin filing into the immaculate, glass-paneled boardroom at the top floor of Cullen Tower. The executives looked mightily unimpressed with the absolutely stunning view of the New York skyline that the top floor offered, but Edward managed to shift his features into a believable smile and offered his hand to the wizened, but still sleek, executives, baring his veneers in what I assumed to be a facsimile of a smile. I felt, as I always did, their eyes leave Edward and focus on me. I gritted my teeth as I smiled and shook their hands, ignoring their roving eyes and curious expressions. It was part of my purpose, part of the reason why every time Edward wanted to dazzle a foreign party, every time he wanted a particular deal signed in his favour, he had me at his side. As he had told me matter-of-factly three years ago: "They're too busy imagining fucking you to read the details too closely."

Edward was never a man for compliments, but I saw something like satisfaction cross his features as he watched one executive miss his mouth with his water glass as he stared at me while Edward introduced his own party. I let my mind wander as I observed the endless handshakes, the slight bows. My scarlet dress was much too tight- I couldn't breathe. The impossibly high nude stilettos, the carefully-styled hair, the dark red lips... All of it was designed for one purpose, and apparently, it was working. Edward was full-blown smirking as he finally introduced me, last, as always.

"And finally, this is Isabella Swan, my chief of staff," He said, which I appreciated. I knew the more honest term for what I did was 'personal assistant' at best and 'professional shit picker-upper' at worst. I gave a small smile and courteously shook the eager hands, kneeling a little bit to make up for the height difference. I was 5'9" without the ridiculous cartoon stilettos, and with them, I stood perhaps an inch shorter than Edward, who towered over everyone else with his 6'2" frame, which retained the leonine grace and long lines of its adolescence, despite Edward's age. Edward gave me a small nod, and I slipped away out the glass door to make the call. As was expected, Felix answered in one ring.

"Hey baby, what's up?"

"Felix, has Edward's lady friend been taken care of?" I asked in a low voice, and I heard Edward's head of security chuckle.

"The tall, honeyed lingerie model from Dubai with the tight ass and long as fuck legs?"

"Aria, yes," I said tersely, and Felix chuckled again.

"From what she was saying, apparently she was taken care of real nicely by Edward last night-"

"I swear to fucking God, Felix-"

"Relax, baby doll, Laurent drove her to JFK at around ten this morning. She has a photo shoot in St. Barts tomorrow," Felix cackled while I pinched my nose. "How's it going today?"

"Oh, great," I muttered sarcastically as I hauled ass to the impressive steel and glass-plated bathroom at the end of the plush hall. I locked the door and stared at my reflection in the enormous mirror. "Excellent. He'll be home around ten tonight."

"I'll have everything ready. Have a good day, baby," I rolled my eyes at Felix's nicknames for me. He always called me "baby" or "baby doll" or "sweetheart" or "princess" or some other nauseating nickname whenever Edward wasn't around. He did it for the sheer pleasure of watching me blow up at him, but had gotten himself in a bit of a mess when Edward had heard him calling me "baby doll" last month and had nearly went thermonuclear war on him.

I washed my hands slowly in the marble sink, delaying for as long as possible the moment when I would eventually have to return to the meeting. As I dried my hands, I carefully studied my reflection in the mirror, ignoring whatever could have been nice about it and searching, as I knew Edward would, for the flaws. Any wrinkle or stain or crease on my dress that would bring a frown faster to his face than anything else, or a smudge in my scarlet lipstick or my front teeth stained from their usual blinding white to a dull red by the dramatic lipstick. There was nothing I could find that would draw his ire, although Edward's eyes, sharper and more critical than my own, always found something to reprimand me on, no matter how small. Sighing, I turned away from my reflection and headed back to the room, concentrating on not tripping over the shoes. Outside the door, Angela, Edward's long-suffering secretary and perhaps the only woman in all of Cullen Industries who had it as bad as I did, flashed me a sympathetic smile before ushering me in.

I ignored every head turning in my direction as I crossed the floor and took my rightful spot on Edward's right, settling in the chair and smoothing my hair all at once. It appeared that today's meeting was an exceptionally short one, and my duties were finished as I handed over the $40 000 diamond-encrusted Mont Blanc pen over to the hand of each executive as they signed the thick contract, barely taking their eyes off of my face while they scrawled their names. Edward looked so smug I thought he would pop if I poked him with a pen as he ushered out the executives, bowing respectfully. As soon as the last delegate was out the door, the four of us in the room exhaled and allowed our postures to slouch. Jacob Black, the only man in finance that Edward trusted, rushed over and gave me a high-five and a tight hug, crushing me against his spotless D&G suit.

"Fuck, that went so much better than it should have," Michael Newton, the second-in-command at Weinstein&Benning, our chosen accounting company, announced loudly as he drained a finger of brandy in one go. His carefully gelled-back blonde hair loosened as he fist-pumped.

"It was because Sun was too busy staring after you to focus on what the fuck he just signed," Jacob emphasized, throwing his arm around my shoulders. Edward's lips thinned imperceptibly as I laughed and slapped Jacob's impressively ridged stomach. "He told Edward you were 'impossibly lovely'."

"He's right," Michael piped up, and I rolled my eyes as I began packing up the bits of loose paper that had been left behind. "You look so-"

"Has my matter been dealt with?" Edward called from the door of the board room, and I sighed as I left everything I had been cleaning up to join him at his side. It was one of the unspoken rules of this job- when Edward Cullen decided it was time to go, it was time to go. Edward repeated the question as he held open the door for me as we began walking at a fast clip down the hall.

"Yes. Your... matter," I said delicately as we pushed the door open to the elevator and pressed the button for the floor of his private office. "Has been dealt with with utmost discretion. She's on a flight to the Caribbean as we speak."

"Good," Edward nodded as we stood shoulder-to-shoulder, staring at the blinking elevator buttons as they pinged out the numbers of the floors. "What's the itinerary for today?"

"You have a three hour block left free until the meeting with EnCor representatives at three PM," I told him. "Seeing as how the Chinese deal was swept so well-"

"And then?" Edward asked with a hint of impatience as we reached our floor and began our impossibly fast clip to the double doors of his office again. I gave a brief nod to Angela, whom Edward completely ignored.

"You have reports due from the Marketing sector by 6 PM this evening, and then," I checked the iPad again. "A dinner date with Tanya at 7:30 PM at the Gotham Cafe."

"Cancel it."

"I can't," I replied, and Edward grit his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She threatened you with chemical castration should you cancel on her again."

"Very well," Edward took a deep breath as he leaned against the edge of his massive, intimidating oak desk. It was the only piece of furniture in his office (and his penthouse) that was not a strange glass and steel contraption. Coincidentally, it was the only piece of furniture that Edward owned that I didn't loathe. He rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt and ran a hand through his hair, obviously irritated. I stood, waiting for his abrupt dismissal so that I could finally be free to return to my desk and try to organize the shit storm that Edward inevitably left behind him at every turn. Instead, he looked up at me and surveyed me with an intensity that made even the most hardened government officials bend to his will. He licked his lips before he spoke. "Come to lunch with me."

"I can't," I replied again, and Edward's nostrils flared, a warning sign. But with no one else in the room, his commanding superiority was rendered a little useless. It's hard to be intimidating when the person you're trying to intimidate has nursed you back from a teenage hangover countless times while keeping it a secret from your parents, and Edward knew this. To be truthful, it was the brief moments of vulnerability that Edward allowed when it was just us, the moments that reminded me that he wasn't a ruthless automaton businessman but had once been my very best friend (and the subject of the majority of my childhood fantasies) that kept me from walking out on him.

"Why not? You haven't got anything planned," Edward said, and I avoided his eyes as I drew up his schedule for tomorrow on my iPad. "Bella-"

"I'm busy," I said tersely. He raised a thick eyebrow sceptically, and I wanted to smack the "Oh, Really?" smirk right off his stupidly handsome face. I raised my head higher. "I have a date."

"Really?" Edward looked nothing short of amused now as he leaned back on his desk, and my face burned scarlet to match the rest of my stupid attire as I crossed my arms too, wanting to punch him now. "You? You have a date?"

"You know, Edward, just because you see me as some sort of walking, talking Rolodex who can distract the people you want to manipulate by wearing a tight dress doesn't mean that everyone else on this planet does," I said through extremely gritted teeth. Edward's smirk deepened. I wouldn't let him see how much his surprise hurt me. I knew he was being playful, teasing me, but it still cut deep a wound I thought I had healed a long time ago.

"I apologize, Swan,"He said abruptly. "That was inappropriate. In any case, I'll see you at 3PM on the 30th floor. Don't be late."

He waved a hand in dismissal, and I spun on my heel, too hurt and angry to even formulate a response. I didn't pause to speak to Angela on the way out, instead grabbing my long white fur coat and pulling it on as I hurried to make the most of the only three hours of peace I would get for the whole day. Even my dreams were interrupted with thoughts of Edward, with thoughts of either killing him or kissing him. Because as Jessica Stanley, the office girl who worked on the fourth floor who's purpose was a mystery to everyone, had put it: Edward Anthony Cullen was an asshole of the first order, but you wouldn't kick him out of bed for it.

If only she knew the half of it.

The three hours went by faster than I wanted them to. So, I had lied a tiny bit. I didn't exactly have a 'date' in the traditional sense. More of an urgent appointment with the dentist that I had put off. But I didn't want my boss's sympathy, especially when I was the one who was confronted full-on with the evidence that he had multiple... dentist appointments... every week. No, I didn't need him thinking I was some nose-picking, career-obsessed loser who's social life consisted solely of collapsing on her couch every night in a plush onesie and finishing off whole bottles of $300 wine. No, that would not be good. So every week, I requested to leave early on Friday nights, which Edward so graciously allowed me. It gave me extra time to demolish a whole pepperoni pizza before passing out drunk on my couch with tomato sauce on my face.

I was on the 30th floor at exactly 2:50 PM, and was greeted by an impatient Edward, who looked brooding and moody and beautiful as ever. He seemed especially terse, snapping at a poor staff member who had the misfortune to be caught in his path as he paced.

"How was your date?" He purred, and I stopped and stared defiantly up at his glowering, beautiful face. You are so beautiful, I thought momentarily before wiping my face clean.

"Satisfying," I said, because it wasn't a lie. My teeth had never been cleaner. Edward gave a sharp nod before unexpectedly latching his hand around my waist and pulling me close to him. I knew that to everyone else in the room arranging note pads and pens and coffee, it would look nothing out of the usual. I was the only person allowed this close to Edward, and it wasn't uncommon to see us bent forehead-to-forehead discussing something. But it had never been like this before. I could smell his heady cologne- Bleu de Chanel- and the smoke of the Parliaments he smoked on his breath as he pulled me almost uncomfortably close and whispered harshly in my ear.

"I could have made it so much more... satisfying," He gave a harsh nip on the shell of my ear before casually straightening and dusting off nonexistent particles on his immaculate suit jacket. I was surprised by how calm I was on the outside, because I was trembling violently on the inside and felt on the verge of collapse by his sudden approach. He casually looked at the schedule for tomorrow. "Rosalie Hale is coming into New York City tomorrow with her brother, Jasper." I nodded, thankful that he changed the subject from his outburst, which I could tell Edward was now regretting. Business. This, I could focus on. The Hale twins were the recent heirs to their father's multi-billion mutual trust and were seeking to invest in blue chip stock. Cullen International's stock had been blue chip before any of us had been born, and we were all anticipating a major cash pump if we didn't fuck up the meeting too badly. It seemed an almost impossible task. Though I had never met Jasper Hale before, both he and his sister had been acquaintances of Edward's during his time at Harvard, and they were two of the very few people that Edward considered 'friends'.

"We're meeting at eight at Maxime's tomorrow evening," Edward informed me, and gave me a quick up and down before we heard the knocks on the door. I felt a familiar flush creep its way onto my cheeks. "Dress code is business casual."

And that was all he said before he gently pushed me aside, his hand alright ready to be shaken, to greet the EnCor representatives. As usual, I was left trying to convince myself that my decision at fifteen was still a binding one.

I was not attracted to Edward Cullen.

Edward Cullen was not attracted to me.

I would be his great friend.