I'm sorry, for many things, including leaving most of my stories hanging and any number of things in other parts of my life.I wake up feeling ashamed and go to bed feeling ashamed and often dream all sorts of shameful-feeling things-but I'm not sorry for writing this, or posting it, so that if you are wired like me, and as alone and ashamed as I am, you can maybe take some comfort from it too.
If you're not, good for you! Shame is a terrible burden to bear, even when it's unearned or entirely disproportional. And we can know how lucky we are if we have food to eat and a warm bed and safe children, but it doesn't mean the shame doesn't still eat us away until some days—like me today—we feel as if there must surely be nothing left.
But there is, so hold on for tomorrow and know the shame is not a reflection of what's bad in you, but rather what is good.
Thanks to SM for her gracious sharing. Xo liza
She was so ashamed going into the office that morning, she couldn't even look him in the eye. When he came in, greeting her as always with a "Good morning, Isabella," she squeaked "Good morning" in return but only half-turned towards him, then immediately turned back to stare at the computer screen through tear-filled eyes.
It hurt his heart to let her suffer like that, but he had to be careful, for both their sakes.
He had made certain arrangements the night before, and his first activity as he sat at his desk was to put those in motion. After a brief phone call to the head of Human Resources, he hit the intercom button and said, "Isabella, a meeting with Rosalie Hale will be replacing my morning schedule today. When she arrives, show her in, please."
Somehow Bella found voice enough to get out a strangled "Yes, Mr. Cullen," before he signed off with a "Good. I need 3 copies of last year's global sales figures please. You can bring them in to me when Ms. Hale arrives."
He hoped that menial office task would keep her functional enough to play her part, ignorant as she was of its existence, in the charade to come. "Hurry up, Rose," he thought and willed her spiky high heels to move faster.
Whether it was his will or Rose's anger, she did propel herself to his office with greater speed than usual, stalking all the way.
When she arrived at Isabella's workstation, Bella nearly wet her pants with fear both of what the unscheduled visit from the head of HR must mean for her, and the wrathful look on Rosalie Hale's face. "Hello, Isabella," Rosalie said archly, and poor Bella could only manage another faint, "Good morning, Ms. Hale," and an anxious head nod, until Rosalie said an impatient, "Well?" and swept her hand in front of her to signify the door of Edward Cullen's office.
This censure made Isabella fly into motion, somehow knocking the phone off the desk in her panicked haste. She was crouched down on the floor retrieving it when Edward, biting back the grin on his face at Bella's adorable discomfiture, opened his own door and said, "Go on in, Rose; we'll be right after you."
Rose glared at him as she walked past him, but she did what he said. After all, he was the boss, and as irritating as that fact was, she didn't really want to work for anybody else, as no one else was likely to be as successful and profitable an employer as Edward Cullen. She figured eventually she would start her own company, but she was too busy working on starting her family right now to give that the attention it would need, so she was biding her time and building her portfolio and the only serious roadbump she'd encountered so far was this ridiculous and supposed-to-be-temporary secretary. Rosalie had no patience for women who tried to make their fortune by ensnaring the boss.
On the other hand, even she, with one of the most negative views of human nature in the Seattle metro area, couldn't quite believe Isabella Swan capable of purposeful efforts towards ensnarement. She was just a heedless girl, but that, in Rosalie's jaded opinion, was almost as bad as being a golddigger.
Said heedless girl (who wasn't really heedless at all but just very, very shy and self-effacing and lonely) was at that moment carefully replacing the phone on her desk, when she heard Mr. Cullen's low voice say "Isabella" right behind her. She jumped, quite literally, and Edward laughed lightly. All of his willpower went into not touching her right then, not skipping the whole farce of negotiating the end of her employment contract and simply picking her up and carrying her off, forever.
If it weren't for his conviction that she would be happier the way he had planned it the night before, Edward would have done just that. Instead, he took a big breath, exhaled, and-in a tension-filled moment they both felt all the way to their marrow—waited. He waited 5 seconds, 10 seconds, 15 seconds, mesmerized by the increasing speed of the in-and-out movements of Bella's cute little tummy as she careened towards hyperventilation. Finally, Edward could take no more and reached his large hand out, settling it authoritatively on that barely-round stomach, so low his pinky, which he rubbed slowly back-and-forth, was well below the waistband of both her skirt and panties and just above the place they were both acutely aware of—Bella with distress at the warmth and moisture pooling there, Edward with ecstasy, current and imagined. Letting the warmth of his hand's heaviness spread down and out, Edward waited, his eyes on the bent brown head staring in shock at his hand.
"Do you have the sales figures, Isabella?" he asked finally, his voice betraying his own heightened emotion with an intensity and gravelly rasp not usually present.
Bella gasped at the sound of Mr. Cullen's voice, and Mr. Cullen bit his lip at the willpower required not to respond to the corresponding push of her abdomen into his hand. It wasn't enough, however, and his hand pulled more strongly into her tummy, putting possessive pressure on everything above and below.
The surprise of this made Bella look up at him, shocked, eyes huge. He stared back hungrily, licked his lips, and said again, making each word sound like an erotic promise, "Do. You. Have. The. Sales. Figures."
This time, her mouth having parted slightly, her tongue darting out to lick her own lips in unconscious imitation of her boss, Bella managed to nod.
"Good," Edward said, and abruptly withdrew his hand, almost causing Bella to tumble forward.
He was ready, however, and caught her by her closest elbow, wrapping his long fingers masterfully around it and keeping her upright, then pulling her around him and propelling her forward.
She balked at the exit of her open office space, however, and Edward paused, curious what would make her defy him in this way.
Leaning down, he asked, an even more gravelly whisper in her ear. "Why are you stopping?"
Bella is panting now, and bursts out much more loudly than she intended, tears in her eyes, "I wet my pants."
Her face is on fire, the tears are now falling, her knees are buckling, and Edward laughs. In a move that he is certain will shock her into compliance for the 14-and-a-half minutes he needs to wrap up dangerous loose ends and get her out of his workplace and into his personal life, permanently, Edward matter-of-factly steps up behind her and reaches his free hand under and up her below-knee-length skirt, hiking the back of it up to her hips as he goes. The tips of his middle three fingers probe the relevant spot, staying on the outside of her panties which are indeed soaked, but confirming with a little push upwards that causes a gasp and shudder from Isabella as well as an unconscious pelvic tilt that comes perilously close to signifying the end of her virginity for all of the on-site security department to see that it is not urine causing the soaking.
They both freeze, Edward's three fingertips surrounded by wetness and warmth that other parts of his body desperately want to explore. One deep breath from Edward (Bella has stopped breathing for the moment), and his hand re-traces its course, stopping at the bottom of her skirt to tug it free of wrinkles.
Stepping back from her, though his other hand is still unbreakably wrapped around her elbow, Edward says lowly, "You haven't wet your pants, Isabella. Now walk into my office."
With that direct command paired with Edward's moving body behind her, Isabella follows automatically, her breathing resuming as well. She is no longer on the verge of tears, and Edward halts just outside his office threshold to pull her in a half-circle towards him, then lift his silk tie and gently wipe away the traces of the tears that had already fallen. He says nothing while cleaning her up, but after a final inspection, her own eyes looking off to the side, anywhere but at him, murmurs "Beautiful" and leans in to place a sweet, chaste kiss on her forehead.
Before his lips have even parted from her skin he is moving them around and forward again, and he completes the forced march of Isabella into his office with brisk efficiency, steering her to the club chair not already occupied by Rosalie in front of his desk after closing the door behind them.
Instead of going behind his desk, Edward instead turns and pulls a third chair forward, in between and behind the two women, and strategically placed closer to the door than Isabella.
Rosalie takes the hint and immediately arises and turns her chair towards Edward's; Edward moves over to the front of Isabella's chair and takes a hold of its winged arms, turning it with Isabella still in it. He adjusts it twice, ending with a "There" and a grin and a wink at the terrified girl in the chair.
Settling himself in his own seat, Edward looks at Rose and asks, "Do you have the paperwork?"
She pulls out some type-covered pages and says, "Right here, exactly as you asked for," and also produces a pen. "Do you want me to go over this with her?"
He says, "Good. No, I will, but stay and witness it please."
Hearing Rosalie's "Of course" as he is already turning to address his soon-to-be-former secretary, Edward says, "Isabella, today is going to be the last day of your temporary employment contract with Masen Enterprises."
Bella's been waiting, ashamed beyond words, for exactly this moment ever since realizing she accidentally attached one of her Daddy/little girl fanfiction stories instead of a requested business document to an email to her boss early the preceding evening. Tears are falling again, and her head hangs down, but she manages to nod her understanding. Of course she is being fired. What she did was inexcusable (or so she thinks). Not to mention also humiliating beyond words.
Edward swears, "Shit," under his breath, and speeds up. "Your contract with the temp agency is being paid for through the end of the month, and you're being given a glowing performance evaluation."
Somehow the words he said make it through her haze, and surprise her enough into lifting her head and looking right at him.
He smiles his approval, and reaches one hand out to quickly wipe tears off along her jaw. He removes his hand again, aware of Rosalie, and says, "Yes, you heard me correctly. A glowing performance evaluation. Top marks. Five stars. As you deserve."
Isabella can't stand the suspense. Did he not read what she sent? He had told her in his last e-mail after her profuse and panicked apologies not to worry, and to go to sleep and everything would be fine in the morning (not that she'd been able to do that), but then what will happen if he does read it someday? If security reads it and tells—
"Stop worrying, Isabella," Edward interrupts her train of thought. Then he reads her mind. "I read what you accidentally sent me and loved it, and there is no way you're going to get into any trouble for it ever. It's the best thing that ever happened to both of us. Now the only thing that remains is for you to sign the agreement terminating your contract effective," and he pauses to check his Rolex, a family heirloom, before saying, "at 10:03 a.m. today."
After listing off the time, Edward reaches for the papers and the pen from Rosalie, then leans to grab a thick magazine off a side table behind him to provide a signing surface. Arranging the papers to his liking, Edward holds them forward on Isabella's lap with one hand and holds out the pen to her with the other. "Here, Sweetheart. Sign."
Rosalie can't help a small snort at the term of endearment which earns her a death glare from Edward. Bella can't help a startled glance upward at the same thing and catches Edward in the death glare, getting scared herself. Suddenly, she feels as if she has no choice but to run away from this humiliating and very confusing situation at the same time that she urgently needs a bathroom.
She rises to answer both needs, starting a breathy, "I'm so sorry, please, I have to—"
But Edward is faster and stands up too, blocking her exit path and looming over her. "Sit down, Isabella," he says, and she has no choice but to plop back down into her chair. The urge to pee though is overwhelming, and she crosses her legs and squeezes as she repeats, even more pitifully, "But, please, I really have to—"
Again, Edward cuts her off, moving forward so that his feet straddle her legs and holding the papers so that they press into her belly, his left hand bringing the pen into her right, pressing it against her palm and then wrapping her fingers around it.
"Isabella, you will sign this now, and then we will take care of what is bothering you."
No one who heard his voice would doubt Isabella's obedience to his command, and indeed, blinded with tears, about to explode with what she thinks is urine, and blushing from the tips of her ears to her toes (Edward will gleefully confirm this later), Isabella manages a sort-of signature at the spot Edward guides her to, and a date just to the right—although the date requires Edward's participation, guiding the pen in her hand to form the correct numbers as Bella can no longer remember even her name.
"Done!" Edward says triumphantly, and steps away from Bella long enough to hand the papers and pen off to Rosalie. He's fast to return back to in front of Bella's seat, however, for indeed she had been rising again to flee. Placing one hand on each of the chair arms, leaning in so that his tie trails along the same beautiful belly he has been lusting over all morning and long before, Edward turns his head slightly towards Rosalie and asks, "Anything else?"
"No, that should take care of things," she says briskly.
"Then feel free to exit my office," Edward rejoins acerbically, but with underlying affection as Rose is his sister-in-law and he does love her in his own way, as she loves him in hers.
She grimaces at him, huffs once, and snarks back, "My pleasure, believe me," before stalking her way out the same way she'd come in, Edward's eyes following her all the way out. When the door clicks shut behind her, Edward slowly turns his head to gaze down at the girl shivering in the chair under him, the girl that is now all his. He savors his victory, the sweetness of what he has won through the girl's own innocent error, and he feels happy—purely, truly happy—for the first time in his life. He laughs.
Bella still thinks she is being fired, and though she is relieved to have that frightening Rosalie Hale out of the office and not witness any longer to Bella's own failings, she is absolutely bereft at the idea of not orbiting around Edward Cullen's magnetic sun any longer. The humiliation of her mistake the night before is quickly being replaced by despair as she realizes her worst fear has come true.
Or so she thinks.
"Isabella." She hears her name, but can't quite register what she is supposed to do, the grief is coming down so heavily around her.
"Isabella, look at me." She hears it, and now she almost understands what she is supposed to do, but her head can't quite make it up though it tries.
A moment later, and she is surprisedly staring straight into Mr. Cullen's eyes, his hand underneath her chin and holding her in place.
"That's my girl," he says, so tenderly, so lovingly, that Bella explodes into hysterical crying and sobs and very profuse apologies, moisture dripping down her legs and oh-so-humiliatingly onto the chair she's sitting on.
Only a split-second later, and it's not the chair she is sitting on any longer, but his legs as he cradles her in one arm, the other working to comfort, to cosset and to calm.
In this new position, her back surrounded by Edward's powerful arm, her bottom against his strong legs, her legs tucked in by him safely next to his side, looking up at his intelligent, intense green eyes looking down with a look of such possessiveness and pride, something inside Bella breaks, and something else is born.
There is a new calm, punctuated only by Bella's heavy breathing as her sobs quiet and stop. Who knows how long they sat there, gazing into each other's eyes, and who knows how long they would have sat there had Bella's stomach not growled its protest against her self-punitive skipping of breakfast that morning.
Edward throws back his head and laughs at his girl's tummy growl, while the girl starts to apologize. "I'm so so—"
But she doesn't get the word out before Edward is arched over her like an angry hawk, the arm holding her stretched as low as it will go so that she is almost horizontal and completely exposed. "Isabella Cullen, if you ever speak that word again I will spank you so hard and so long you won't be able to sit for a week."
He knows he would never actually hurt her that badly, but she doesn't, and her eyes go wide with a breath-taking combination of fear and excitement at the sound of her name unexpectedly paired with his and the promise he's just made. And immediately, the child-like part of her, or maybe the truly-a-child part of her, feels the need to test it.
"I'm so sorry," she says, clear as a bell, and as calmly and confidently as she's been all morning, or ever.
They both freeze as her words echo in the office, the challenge seeming a physical presence now between them.
But it is quickly vanquished and banished forever with the next movement of Edward's capable body, wordlessly flipping her over in one motion and stripping her underpants off by the back of their waistband all the way down to her bent knees. Leaving them there to add to her feeling of constraint and control by him, Edward's hand grips the hem of her skirt on its return journey and pulls it all the way up, tucking it in snugly.
Bella feels the air against her backside and starts to shiver, part cold but mostly heady anticipation and a little bit of fear.
Edward sees the shiver and croons as his free hand is caressing the curves of her backside and making her try—extremely unsuccessfully—to squirm away, "Don't worry, Baby Girl, this won't take long. Daddy's a fast spanker." He's no sooner spoken the words than the first slap falls resoundingly on her left cheek, followed lightning-fast by a stroke on her right. Back and forth he goes, too fast for her to think about the stinging pain until he is finished, and rubbing again the now bright red bottom.
"When we get home, I have some cream to make your bum feel better, Sweetheart, but it will just have to smart for now, and remind you who's boss, you or Daddy," Edward says contentedly to his girl as he pulls her—carefully, tenderly—around and up into sitting once more in his lap.
"Are you mad at me?"
"Why would I be mad at you, Baby Girl?"
"Um…because you spanked me?"
"You know why I spanked you."
"Because I said s-, what you said not to say."
"That's right. You're a smart girl. I'm proud of you for listening to Daddy.
"But I didn't listen! I was bad, on purpose!"
Edward laughs, then sighs. His happiness knows no bounds. She was bad! His sweet, impossibly innocent, kind-hearted, open-book, loyal-loving baby girl thinks she was bad! On purpose!
He rubs his nose against her cheek, her eyes still following him, waiting anxiously for an answer.
"You couldn't be bad if you tried, Baby Girl."
She furrows her brows at this; wasn't he listening? She tries again "But I—"
"I know what you think you did. But here's what you really did. You heard your Daddy make a promise to you, about one of the many ways he—I—am going to take care of you. You heard it, but you didn't believe it, because why would you? I haven't been taking very good care of you before this, and I don't think you've ever had a Daddy before me. Have you little girl?"
She shakes her head sadly, "No." She definitely has not. And now she's been bad and this Daddy isn't going to want her anymore—
But before she can think anymore along those lines, Edward has her by the shoulders and is hoisting her up to meet his eyes. "Isabella," he growls. "Isabella Swan Cullen, you stop that right now!"
She can't stop. She tells him so. "But I'm such a bad person!" comes tearing out of her like wind through barren rocks in a very inhospitable part of the world.
There is no laughter now. Sadness fills Edward's eyes as he realizes how truly she believes what she has just said, and then he makes a promise to them both. "Baby girl, I am just beginning to understand how alone you have been, and how uncared for. I am sorry—very sorry—that I didn't figure this out the very day I met you. I should have; if I'd been paying more attention maybe I would have, but I assumed you would just be another secretary. I didn't even know a little girl like you was possible any more, or I would have gone looking for you a long time ago. So you're just going to have to take my word for it that you are absolutely perfect the way you are; that you are exactly who I want you to be and the only changes I'm going to make are making you safer, and happier, than you could possibly imagine right now; that not only are you NOT a bad person, but you are the best, most loving, most beautiful, most perfectly wonderful person I have ever met in my entire life, and a lifetime is too short to enjoy being with you but I'm going to fit in as much as I can."
He gazes down at her and realizes that Bella is hearing but not really understanding, and definitely not believing, and he understands himself with a new clarity how badly she's been damaged and how much work lies ahead of him keeping her from being her own worst enemy and undercutting him at every turn. He smiles sadly, sad at the knowledge of how much she's hurt but happy to know that he gets to be in charge now and anticipating the marvelous challenge of it all, of her.
Finally, he simply gathers her up, gently adjusts her against him so that her head rests on his shoulder, and takes his now-sobbing little girl venting her fear and shame and the beginning of exquisite relief the only way she knows how down to his car and into his home, where he keeps her, loved and safe and his, the rest of their very happy long lives.