KALEIDOSCOPE
by
AngelycDevil
*runs around screaming* It's notthatAmanda's birthday, and I don't know know if she remembers, but I promised her this for her birthday, so TA-DA!
Not beta'd. Looked over by my lovely twifey, EveryDayBella.
Disclaimer: Don't own it.
M—Hey bae, can't w tnite!
…and cue the barf. Bae? Really? I'm going to kill Alice for making me do this. Mark better be everything Alice hyped him up to be or her TARDIS backpack is going to magically disappear.
I quickly type out a response before gathering all the drafts I need for this meeting. Mr. Cullen had handed me my first big project last week, the new Velathri mansion. Yes, mansion. The estate is ridiculous, like Gatsby's house without all the confetti, and it's my job to decorate it to Sulpicia's tastes. My partner, Edward stick-up-my-ass Masen, looks over the finances.
I never really understood Alice's dislike for the finance department until I was assigned to work with them, and it was hate-at-first-sight. The fucker came to Starbucks in a perfectly ironed black suit, an expensive silver watch and a silk tie with every strand of hair gelled into submission. Not only was he over-dressed, he was late and demanded, rather rudely, that I only address him as 'Mr. Masen'. The only thing that held me back was the fact the last thing I needed that night was to end up in jail for punching a co-worker. I'd settled for gritting my teeth and scowling at his back every chance I got. After that, it'd been constant emails and texts, thank fucking God. His only redeemable quality is his impeccable grammar. Never did his texts contain '2' or 'c' or a misspelled word. That made his constant breathing-down-my-neck more bearable.
I slip into the conference room, arranging the files to my left and notebook and pen to my right. It'd been hell to get the some of these designs approved by Mr. Masen "because there was no way in hell you could buy these pieces within budget", but Sulpicia had put her foot down, completely adoring my plans—ahem, thank you very much—and Mr. Masen had no choice but to comply.
One after one, people start piling in, most of them animatedly summarizing their weekends as they take their seats. I've been to these meetings before, but a tendril of nerves still worms its way through me. Mr. Masen is late…again, and I wish I couldn't give a shit, but he has the other half of the presentation.
Fuck.
I take a deep breath and I go over my presentation in my mind as Mr. Cullen walks in and takes his seat. He's a married man in his high forties with a grandfather face. Yes, that's a face, that kind, gentle face that you can never not trust and be comfortable with. I smile back at him as he greets us all, and I'm hyper-aware of the fact the fucker doesn't look like he's gonna be here anytime soon.
The introduction passes over my head, but I guess it was funny since everyone was snickering by the end of it. I'm not surprised, Mr. Cullen has delectable sense of humor, and the man is such a Star Wars geek.
It's in the middle of the second presentation that Mr. Masen decides to show his too-good-for-punctuality ass in the conference room. Locking my face into the best resting-bitch-face I've got, I swivel to glare at him...only to come face-to-face with a large poofy, glittery pink dress and a sparkling tiara.
I gulp.
A girl with the biggest blue eyes and a wide gap-toothed smile waves frantically at me. "HI! I'm Amanduh. I'm four 'ears old."
