Disclaimer: I do not own anything Twilight/Meyer related. Le sigh.
AN: This is my first attempt at a full story so please be gentle. I'd like to thank, Dawning Juliet, for her help, encouragement and support. I love how polished my chapters are, Juliet, no words!
Lady in Waiting
Prologue
Almost Lovers
And when you left you kissed my lips
You told me you'd never ever forget these
Clever trick.
Bella stood a mere few feet away from a cold, unmoving, unflinching Edward.
She was stunned into silence for the first time in living memory—a hard feat in itself as the distance between them had never seemed wider and more glaringly obvious than right now.
They were oceans apart.
Worlds apart.
You threw yourself into a fairytale and blocked out any form of reality. What did you expect?
It was as clear as the bold font on the cover page of the gossip rags that lay on top of a few other newspapers, haphazardly strewn across a grand mahogany desk with a photo of herself staring right back at her.
Edward wanted this fight; that was a given. And why wouldn't he? It was the easy way out he'd been looking for all along when things between them had begun to intensify. She assumed it was easier for him to deny that what they'd had over the past few weeks was anything at all.
He is a nothing but an emotional coward hiding behind a throne of power. Fucking cop out!
In the end, it had all amounted to that: a denial, a scorched heart, and an out.
Her beaten down thoughts began to prickle in the corner of her befuddled mind, desperately attempting to unhinge the lid.
He has been giving you an out this entire time, an out that he needed and hoped you would take. You never heeded his warnings; instead, you clung to a fantasy, willing it to cross into the realm of possibility. You brought this upon yourself, so you only have yourself to blame.
God, the irony of how those words had sounded like something her mother would have once said was not lost on her. Renee, always the pessimist.
"I have obligations, Isabella," he sighed while pinching the bridge of his nose. "Damn it!" he shouted as he threw down the paper he held tightly in his grasp, his strong fingers curled around what must have been one of the offending articles. It landed face up on the desk with a thud.
Yet another photograph mocked her more now then when she had first seen it a few weeks ago while passing a newsstand on the streets of London. It was a blunt punch to her gut that he had been holding that particular photo instead of the more recent ones—more newsworthy—that littered the desk.
Your fingertips across my skin
The sweetest sadness in your eyes.
"I have duties, an honor to uphold, or have you forgotten who I am?" he murmured arrogantly with his head cast down, looking at her in disgust.
As if she could forget. As if anyone would let her, including him. She knew exactly who he was, yet she didn't want to know this stranger sitting in front of her now.
She did not know this Edward at all. What she did know and fear was that this man, this stranger, held a power over her and was about to ultimately destroy the last bit of her heart she had left—that bit that she gave to him blindly, trusting him with it before knowing if he could care for it. Whether he knew it or not most likely did not matter to him, and therefore would never be revealed.
It would be her secret, and hers alone to keep.
Edward reared back from the desk, his chair almost knocking over from the force, stood up and lifted his face to hers. He towered over her at over six foot three inches above her slight five foot four figure. His shoulders broadened as he took a deep breath and stretched his body to stand tall and firm. Gone was any wariness, and any weakness was replaced by sheer determination as arrogance took place over any other emotions he might have struggled with until then.
Edward stared down at her across the desk and locked his vivid, bulging green eyes onto hers. They were scotching. Intense. Determined. A look she'd seen once before but had been thankful she'd never been on the receiving end of such a glare.
From that look alone she knew then that the worst of his words were yet to come. She braced herself for the last line to be delivered.
Her mind registered her fists curling up, her nails digging into her palms—daggers, knives about to draw blood. She waited with bated breath, dreading the words that would spill from his lips. Perhaps it was her fate to hear these words from the very beginning, no matter what had transpired between them.
We walked along a crowded street
You took my hand and danced with me.
She blocked out memories that tried to rise up to the surface and begged and pleaded with her to fight back. They were a chink in the armor she desperately needed to hold in place, although the threat to her heart was yet unknown and currently misplaced.
"I have responsibilities." His voice was hard. The lines he delivered rolled across a golden plated, diamond-encrusted tongue in a tone she'd heard before as if he had been reading from a script ingrained into his mind. Years of reading a script. She couldn't deny he was better at it then she was.
The slight, strangled sound of an angry chuckle slipped through her lips.
"Oh, you find that word humorous, do you? It's a word I don't think you understand or value, clearly." One arrogant eyebrow of his raised slightly as if encouraging her to throw it back at him, challenge him, discredit and prove him wrong. It was a fighting word.
But she couldn't, because there it was, that one dirty word. The rest was just a cheap stab at an open wound. He knew her hand, and he played his cards well.
The house wins.
It hurt more then she thought it would because the simple truth was just that, simply that— the truth. Why she'd ever thought it wouldn't, she hadn't a clue, but God, it hurt like hell.
Bella stood there, forcing herself to remain silent. It wasn't as if she didn't have a slew of words and comebacks to throw at him—she did— but it was the sheer impact of the deliberate, angry truths he threw in her face, the impact of a hard slap that made her skin sting, keeping her quiet.
Edward's words couldn't be denied, and that alone made her retreat and take a step back.
Just like he knew she would.
"So that's it, then. You have nothing to say? Come now, Isabella, you know it's on the tip of your tongue, and no one is around to hear you unleash it; it's the perfect opportunity. It's just us now, so why hold back? Come on, out with it."
She desperately wanted to find her voice, to be able to lash out at him, make him see how he wasn't as perfect as he claimed to be.
Or as perfect as you conjured him up to be.
She wished she could just call him out on it and say that he was being a cop out, plain and simple, but she knew that wasn't entirely truthful, and she refused to give him what he wanted. She refused to give him anything. He had already taken enough.
Bella turned her head towards the window and gazed at the beautifully landscaped garden outside as if it would be able to give her strength to find her voice. As her eyes slid to a bench nestled within the rose bushes, her throat closed up.
She should have given back all he gave her—hard, harsh, and punctual. But would he have hurt as much as she had in that moment if she had delivered such a speech? She wanted to see—no, she needed to see—the slightest bit of unease in his eyes. Something that told her she'd jarred him on some level.
She stayed silent and avoided his gaze.
In that moment, she knew that if he didn't flinched when she called him a coward, among other, more vile names, it would seriously disgrace her as a lady, and it would hurt her far worse.
If he remained unruffled when confronted with her accusations, his indifference would definitely break her completely.
Maybe in the end, she was the coward after all.
She mashed her lips together, making sure they were held tight. Bella tried to swallow down the bitter taste in her mouth as Edward walked around the desk to stand before her.
"Fine, then. We're done," Edward said with a curt nod of dismissal.
She awaited the sting of pain and taste of blood as if his words had physically struck her.
The truth hurts more then the lies you told yourself.
Feeling the burn of the tears she'd refused to let slip, she was thankful for the prompt dismissal at that point; she had to get out of there fast if she hoped to have any dignity and self-respect left. She refused to let him see her cry, and it wouldn't have mattered to him in the slightest if she did.
With one last look into his cold, expressionless eyes, she shut hers.
"Clever trick," Bella whispered, shaking her head and turning towards the door.
"What?" came the bewildered shout from behind her.
She didn't stop to acknowledge him in fear of what she'd find in his condescending eyes, eyes that she swore could see into the depths of her soul at one time, but now would look upon her with mocking pity.
No, she wouldn't turn around.
She had already heard enough—she had heard it all—and Edward had made his choice clear.
When she thought her heart could no longer break any more, she was proven wrong once again as it shattered into a million invisible pieces and scattered around his office floor, unknown to him.
She took a deep breath and held it, letting the weight of all that was left forever unspoken burn her lungs as she put one foot in front of the other, stepping over the threshold with her hand poised on the handle to shut the door behind herself, not once looking back.
"I said, clever trick, your majesty," she exhaled.
The dull and lifeless sound that passed through her lips felt hollow, and it broke her a little more as she realized she didn't even recognize any tenor of it belonging to her.
Bella allowed the tears she'd held at bay thus far to silently stream down her cheek as she pulled the doorknob and closed the door. Once again, she put one foot in front of the other, walking out of her unrealistic fantasy and into her unwanted—more now then ever—empty life.
It was done.
Over.
Fairytales were overrated.
I should have known you'd bring me heartache
Almost lovers always do
AN: I do not have a writing schedule. As long as my character's keep distracting me (as they have been), I will keep bringing them to life as quickly as RL and my fingers will allow me to. Dawning Juliet works incredibly fast as well-Yeah, I know I'm spoiled. She rocks!
Once again, if you have already read the chapters and wish to wait until the next update (chapter 4), it should be up within a few days.
Playlist: Pandora, Imogen Heap (quickly falling in love with this station)
Almost Lovers - A Fine Frenzy
Beautiful History - Plumb
Colorblind - Natalie Walker (remix)
Strange Condition - Morgan Page
Swoon - Imogen Heap
