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Chapter 3

Interview

BPOV

"He should know not to cut Bella Swan's hair." I said loudly, entering the restroom. "What a rude, useless man!" Looking in the mirror, I looked how much damage has been done with my hair. It didn't seem much, just a bit on the right side. It won't be obvious for other people, but it sure is obvious for me.

I gasped in realization. I saw a man from the reflection in the mirror, that was trying his best to hide himself, while peeing. I could see the male urinal behind me and then realized that I was once again in a male restroom.

"I wasn't talking to you, but someone else. I'm so sorry. " My cheeks blushed its familiar color and I left the rooms as fast as I could.

I looked around, making sure I'm in the right room. I faced the mirror, fixing my hair. Do I want what happened last Christmas Eve to happen again?

Suddenly, I remembered why his face was so familiar. I was sure I've seen him before somewhere.

"In life there are all kinds of men, but men are men."

Gasp.

EPOV

I kneeled down to taste more of cake, just using my hands, from the box that is currently situated on the floor - mango mousse. I couldn't even stop licking my fingers. It just tasted wonderful. Not too sweet - just perfect. I stood up, and started for the door, while one of the chefs giving me a napkin to wipe my face. I started running, trying to find the lady that baked that cake. I just have to find her. She would be a great asset for my restaurant. And this time, I'm in bad need of a pastry chef. What a perfect timing.

BPOV

I continued walking toward the exit.

What… there are all kinds of men? Well, there are all kinds of women too! Anyway, if he continued that long, he should know I would start too. Hey, now that I think about it, he's a young guy. Even if he dated, how much would he know?

I was nearing the exit when I turned around, and I saw him again, looking for something. – or someone – specifically me.

His head turned my way, and he saw me, lifting his arm, pointing at me, he yelled. "Excuse me."

I was worried – half in panic. Why is he following me? Is he going to sue me? I can't deal with that now. My hair is the one cut, but he did have a point. They can say that I was spying, but of course I wasn't. I was just enjoying the view of the delicious pastries.

I turned toward the exit, rushing so he can't catch me, but kept running after me. Thankfully, a cab was already waiting outside and I went in immediately, yelling for the driver to already drive. But he didn't! Stupid driver!

The gorgeous, arrogant guy kept knocking on my window, willing me to talk to him. But when he saw that the taxi driver isn't moving, he just opened the door. "Can we please talk?" he asked.

"Why are you not driving? Can you just go? Hurry!" I once again yelled to the inconsiderate driver.

"It will just be a minute." He tried to convince me.

"What is this guy trying to do?" The taxi driver asked me. Why doesn't he just dirve? Can#t he see that I'm his customer and I'm the one he's supposed to follow.

The unknown man just suddenly forced himself in the backseat, sitting next to me and slamming the door shut.

I kept yelling complaints to get him the hell out of my taxi. "Hurry up and get out!"

"Where is the madam going?" he asked the driver.

"What do you mean madam? Who's the madam?"

"Is it really important if I call you madam or miss?"

"It is important, stupid jerk. I'm not old nor do I have wrinkles, so where do you get the madam from?!"

"Driver, please go wherever this Miss is going."

"No. I don't agree with him."

"She agrees. I'm her younger brother."

I looked at him annoyed. And the driver started driving. Why does he listen to him and not to me?!

EPOV

So now I've found her. I just have to use my charms and convince her.

I turned to my side and faced her. "The cake a while ago, you said you made it yourself right?"

She wouldn't look at me. "Are you doing this just to ask that question?"

"Did you really make it yourself?"

She snorted. "Whatever." She looked away from me, wanting to ignore me – but I'm not having any of that.

"I don't have time to be playing around right now. Did you make it yourself, yes or no?"

"I made it myself."

"Is it your hobby making cakes?"

"No. It's my job."

"Pastry Chef?"

Now I caught her attention. She finally looked at me, with shocked expression. "Most people don't have a clue."

"Where do you work right now?" I asked. "Bakery, hotel, your own shop?" I was forcefully asking my questions now. She's making me impatient.

She seemed hesitant to answer. "That's… My body is really weak so I'm resting right now."

I immediately took my business card wallet from the inside pocket of my coat, took one and offered it to her. "Here, take this."

"Why should I?"

"Just take it, nothing bad is going to happen."

"No, I don't want to." She replied forcefully.

I used my convincing tone, hoping that she would fall for it. "You'll regret it if you don't take it."

"If you don't get off this taxi, you will regret it. Driver, please stop here, this man is leaving."

I took hold of her wrist, while she resisted, yelling. "What are you doing? Let go."

I put the card into her hand forcefully and finally let go.

She scoffed, glaring at me.

"Since you have it why don't you just look at it?"

"Why should I?"

"To a lady, her hair is very important!"

I took her wrist again, forcing her to look at it. I held in front of her eyes, just a few inches away so she won't have any choice but to look at it.

When she finally did, she looked at it for a long time, then she turned to look at me.

Of course, I gave her my smirk.

BPOV

This guy, sitting right next to me is Edward Cullen, the president of the famous Bon Appetit restaurant here in Seattle. It's one of the most expensive and high class restaurants. And he's the freaking president? The owner? Am I dreaming or what?

"Come tomorrow at 3 with a filled resume and bring a variety of cakes and cookies."

We finally reached my destination. He got of the taxi to let me pass.

His hands still in the door, he said, "I don't like it when people are late. Be on time at 3." He then went in the cab again.

I knocked on the window, willing him to open it for me.

"I think it's too much for tomorrow. I need to find a place to bake and get all the ingredients."

"Where do you usually bake?"

"Someone I know has a bakery school."

"Today and tomorrow are weekends. Do they have classes on weekends too?"

"I still need to get the ingredients. Even though I can get most of them, there are few that are hard to find."

"Just make it with whatever ingredients you can get. It shows if you're a real chef or not." He started closing the window. I knocked on it again, before it was fully closed.

"Just wondering… how old are you?"

He looked at me like he wanted me to explain so I continued. "Because you look so young, I thought you were a swindler."

He sneered at me. "Did you just sneer at me?" I asked him, a bit upset.

"No."

"You just sneered at me."

He just closed the windows and ignored my knocking, and the taxi left, just like that.

"That jerk!"

The next morning

We were sitting in his office, he looking at my resume, and me drinking a cup of coffee.

"Did you use photoshop?"

"Yes"

"Next time, don't. You look like a different person."

"Name is Isabella Swan, you have quite an old age."

"So?"

He looked at me.

"Never mind, continue reading it." I said.

"Went to school in Paris and worked as intern for 2 years." He looked up at me. " If you went to study in Paris, why didn't you go to college?"

"I didn't do well in my studies."

"Then how did you manage to stay in that school?"

"In this world, there are three ways to communicate - music, art and food."

"Then why did you come back? You could have fought and continued to learn there."

"My father past away suddenly. There was something wrong with his heart." I said.

He looked away from me, seeming not to push the subject, and went back to reading my resume.

It's positive that he doesn't remember me, I thought rejoicing. If he did, why would he be acting so… indifferently?

We went to the restaurant part and the waitress with a strawberry blond hair and sexy body set the pastries I baked on the table, leaving afterwards, but not before giving me a calculating glare.

Mr. Cullen, the restaurant's manager and the head chef tasted my baking while I sat opposite them, watching their expressions. Mrs. Carmen Varner as she introduced herself was the store manager, and Mr. Jasper Whitlock, was the head chef.

Mrs. Varner and Mr. Whitlock seemed to be enjoying themselves. They looked towards each other and nodded. It seemed like a good sign so I smiled. But when I looked at Mr. Cullen, his face was natural – no indication whether he liked it or not. My smile vanished.

Mr. Whitlock broke the silence. "So. You prepared this. The appearance is very simple –"

"Because I couldn't get all the ingredients I needed. I made it with whatever I could." I glanced at Mr. Cullen, "I just got the appointment yesterday. It would have been better if I had more time."

"No, it's not that. The appearance didn't change the taste of the cake. But the cake is very good. Excellent job!"

"Thank you." I said, smiling widely.

"Also, the chocolate and the case – the taste was very different. Did you personally make the case?"

"Yes. Putting my homemade chocolate in to the case I made is a basic principle for me."

"Oh really? Why is that?"

"Inside the chocolate case is the life of a person. Have you ever watched the movie Forest Gump?"

He nodded.

"In the movie, the main character's mother once said, 'Life is like a box full of chocolates, whichever one you choose, no one knows.'" I turned to Mr. Cullen, "You don't remember that?"

"I haven't watched it" he replied.

"If you have time you should watch it." I turned back to the chef and manager, "Anyway, my becoming a pastry chef was unplanned for. Once, I went to a library and there without thinking, I pulled out a book, and that book was about French bakery. If that book was about taking care of baby chickens, who knows if I would be taking care of baby chickens right now." I smiled.

Both Mr. Whitlock and Mrs. Varner laughed, but when I looked at Mr. Cullen, he was staring at somewhere else, his face void of any emotions.

"Now whatever I pick up, changes me very much."

"So all the chocolates you've made so far, have all of them been good?" Mrs. Varner spoke for the first time, smiling gently.

"No, there were good ones, and there were bad ones. However, there's nothing we can do about it. That case is mine, and I had to eat all the chocolate in it anyway. When and what I will eat, that makes the difference."

I seem to be impressing both the chef and manager. They were smiling the entire time, nodding at each other.

I continued. "But from then to now, it might have been different. When I was a child, I didn't have any fear and just ate everything I saw. But now… I think a lot and sit, picking which one to eat. If I wanted anything more, it would be for no more bitter rum to be in my chocolates. There won't be any chocolate with bitter rum in it. Because for 30 years, I've already eaten and destroyed all of them. That's all."

"Since you figured that out so early, it's like saying the chocolate made with bitter rum is split in half. Is there anything more you need to ask?" Mrs. Varner asked Mr. Cullen.

"No." He responded. "Okay. Let's work together. Work starts at 10 am and ends at 10 pm. The bakery is earlier than the others."

"Oh, she seems to know that already." Mr. Whitlock interfered. "Work starts at 7am and ends at 8pm, depending on the situation, it can end later."

I hid my laugh – seems like Mr. Cullen doesn't know his restaurant that well.

Mr. Cullen continued, "3 – 5pm is the time to get ready for dinner. Cleaning is every other third Mondays. Also, every three months is when we appoint an employee to a higher position."

"Hold on." I interrupted.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Under one condition."

"A condition?"

"Yes, a condition." I confirmed.

So… what do you guys think?? Is it okay? Confused?

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