Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns all things Twilight. I just decided it was time to shake things up a bit in her characters' world. And I wanted a bitchy Bella, so here we go!

Oh, and all of the references used in this story in relation to the advertising and marketing company and accounts are only used here for entertainment purposes; no copyright infringement intended.

As always, thank you Thank You to Flyaway Dove, who's not only beta-ing this story but my other one as well!

*shameless plug* - Check it out – Two Worlds Collide (by LauraLoo7)

Thanks also to angelicwish for providing me with feedback on how this story is flowing – I heart you! Shouts to Lita and my bestie Jennay who both keep me going and devour my chapters faster than I can churn them out! Love you!

Okay, everyone…there are games afoot. I'm trying something new in Bella's head; please let me know if it works, or is too sappy, given her usual state of mind. Thanks!

A whole weekend to mess with each other. It's going to be fun! Woot!

Chapter Ten: Stuck together

Our plane landed before sunrise in Chicago, and as usual, it was windy as hell and snowing. After collecting our luggage, Edward ventured outside to hail a taxi while I kept watch over our bags. Thankfully it was a short ride to the hotel, and by the time the sun had risen behind the thick cloud cover, I was in my room with the curtains drawn. Esme had booked us with rooms next to each other, so when I heard a soft knock on my door, I knew it was Edward. When I opened it, he stood before me, clad in only a white t-shirt and navy blue mesh shorts. Damn.

"Are you settled in? Is your room okay," he asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, visibly uncomfortable. My room was more than okay; I'd have to thank Esme for booking me in the suite. I wondered briefly what kind of room Edward had, and then told myself it was of no consequence.

"Yes, it's fine, thank you," I said wearily. "I know it's probably not advisable, but I'm going to take a short nap and freshen up. And then we can start organizing the presentation materials, displays and everything else." Edward's face fell infinitesimally, but he recovered just as quickly as it happened. If I hadn't been watching him so closely – you know, ogling and all – I might have missed it.

"So where are you going," I asked.

"I thought I'd go for a run on one of the treadmills down in the gym," he said. "Um, I guess I'll check back with you after my run and shower, if that's okay. We have all day to get organized, and I labeled everything, so it shouldn't take too much time." He lingered in the doorway, ran his fingers through his messy hair and exhaled loudly. After waiting there a few moments he added, "Okay, then I'll see you in a bit. Have a good nap." And then I watched him walk down the hall toward the stairwell.

Feeling exhausted, I pulled off my jeans and sweater, and literally crawled under the covers of my very plush pillow-top bed, and I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. My dreams were filled with fleeting images of him, his hands, that shock of bronze hair, and other parts of him I'd only seen covered by tailored suits and expensive jeans. But that didn't stop my subconscious, however, from taking certain liberties as I imagined his hands and mouth on me. How his tongue would feel lapping the sensitive skin on my belly; how his kisses would feel traveling up my neck and then across my bare back.

"Oh God, Edward, don't stop…"

I awoke with a start, clutching the sheets, my heart racing. It took me a moment to realize where I was, and after a few very tense seconds, with no sound from the next room, I released the breath I had been holding. Probably the most inopportune time to be talking in my sleep. All I could do was hope I hadn't actually voiced my request. Glancing at the clock, I realized I'd been asleep for more than an hour. Despite it being a Saturday, I wanted to get a start on Monday, so I hopped out of bed, stripping on my way to the bathroom and got into the shower. Traveling always made me feel grimy. The multiple jets felt amazing on my skin and helped to wake me up.

After getting dressed – jeans again, a tank and a sweater – I decided to go see if Edward had returned from his workout. Knocking on the door, I mentally rehashed the list of things I wanted to accomplish today, and then the door opened and all my thoughts scattered like the ashes from an extinguished fire.

Edward was standing unpretentiously in the doorway, dressed in only jeans, rubbing his wet hair with a towel. Fuck. Me. Twice. Please. My brain was incapacitated by the sight of him – wet, tousled hair; lean and muscular shoulders, arms and torso; jeans perfectly displaying the infernal V and his bare feet. It was such a comfortable and unassuming posture, and as I struggled to process the sensory overload, my mind wandered.

Exulting beauty, phantom of an hour,

Whose magic spells enchain the heart,

Ah! What avails thy fascinating pow'r,

Thy thrilling smile, thy witching art?

"Uh, sorry. I, uh, just got out of the shower," he stammered, suddenly contrite. "Is something wrong?" His question jolted me from my daydream, and I stammered a reply that was meant to be reassuring and nonchalant.

"N-no. Nuh-nothing's wrong Edward," I managed. Or not. "I just wanted to get working and…well, I came over to see if you were ready." Fucking brilliant B. And what's with the fucking poetry?

"Sure. Let me just throw on a shirt, and I'll be right over," he offered, with a compulsory smile. "You're room, right?" Yes. I have a nicer bed, most likely. Right – work! I just nodded and turned back to my room, needing an escape in order to collect myself. Instead of letting the door close, I flipped the large latch over and then assessed the state of the suite. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, I made sure my clothing, specifically my unmentionables, was tucked away and that my bed was neat. After my obsessing was done, I made myself busy with unpacking the materials until I heard a light knock and called for Edward to come in.

He walked into the suite and took in the furnishings; I could tell by the look on his face that it was a nicer room than his. I offered him a bottled water from the refrigerator and motioned for him to sit at the table in the living area between the kitchen and bedroom. We unpacked the remainder of the packages and spread them out on the table, floor and couch. Taking a seat at the table, I motioned for Edward to sit opposite me, and quickly occupied myself with the task at-hand.

An evil spirit, your beauty, haunts me still,
Wherewith, alas, I have been long possess'd,
Which ceaseth not to tempt me to each ill,
Nor gives me once but one poor minute's rest.

Hours later, and I still fought to stay focused on work. When my butt fell asleep and my back began to ache, I rose and stretched, and then moved to the plush carpeted floor. Admittedly, it was a bit juvenile – like lying on my stomach on the floor in my room doing my homework – but it soothed my screaming back and changed the scenery. For a few minutes Edward at first stayed seated at the table, but then he too got up and mimicked the position next to me.

"I just thought this would be more comfortable," I reasoned, in case he thought it strange. He smiled and started looking over some of the materials we had piled on the floor. Edward was almost shoulder-to-shoulder with me, and more than once I watched him, out of the corner of my eye, glance at me like he wanted to say something.

"Edward, I think we should use these brochures with this side of the display," I said, suggesting a change to our planned set up for the convention booth. It was a two-sided, layered monstrosity with a table on either side and the placement of every product had to be perfect. "See how these two really pertain more to that display? I think they'll complement it in a way that the others don't." As I said this I held up the brochures in question, prompting Edward to lean closer to me.

In me it speaks, whether I sleep or wake;
And when by means to drive it out I try,
With greater torments then it me doth take,
And tortures me in most extremity.

He smelled so good. Fresh and earthy and that indescribable masculine aroma; it made my damned mouth water. I could feel that his entire body was even closer now, without even looking behind me; the intimacy elicited an army of goose bumps to erupt all over my body. And when his fingers brushed mine as he pulled the brochures from my hand, it sent a jolt of electricity through me and I gasped.

"Oh!"

Edward unleashed the full force of his dark gaze – almost a forest green now – as I pulled my hand back instinctively, shielding my fingers inside a closed fist. What was that? There we were, our noses nearly touching, and in that moment I felt myself ripped in two: I wanted everything and nothing from him. The desire to have his lips, hands and every other part of him on me, in me, around me was suffocating. Flames of unreasonable longing threatened to burn my body alive, while my mind attempted to snuff them out with pitifully crafted logic. A war was raging inside me, and I felt as if it were being played out behind my eyes, for Edward to see.

I watched as his pupils dilated and his lips twitched, and I licked mine as a subconscious gesture to mirror him. "Did you feel that," I asked, my voice barely a whisper. He nodded but said nothing. The intensity of his gaze completely unnerved me, so I filled the silence.

"Um, must have been static from the carpet," I offered lamely.

Before my face it lays down my despairs,
And hastes me on unto a sudden death;
Now tempting me to drown myself in tears,
And then in sighing to give up my breath.

He blinked a few times and then his eyes seemed to change again – less like forest green and back to their brilliant emerald shade – and his expression shifted with it.

"Yeah, must've been from lying on the carpet," he murmured. He leaned away from me to grab his water bottle, and used the movement to put some space between us. My instant reaction was one of hurt, but I quickly scolded myself for it. Edward cleared his throat and answered my initial question.

"Sure, that's fine, if you want to rearrange things," he said, putting the brochures on the carpet again. "Whatever you want." And again my body felt the ache of a moment gone-by, an opportunity lost. I sighed as the last of the flames were reduced to steam – still hot to the touch but no real danger.

Thanks to Edward, the labeling really helped and in no time we had the brochures, booklets and other printed materials organized. The boards had traveled well, and we slipped those back into the oversized portfolio cases after inspecting them. Then I suggested we review the Powerpoint presentations again. I wanted to observe Edward and time him.

"Why don't we take a break and grab something to eat," he suggested, and my stomach growled on-cue. "Maybe we can grab an early dinner. It's already four-fifteen." Wow. Where has this day gone? Oh, that's right; you've been held captive in your head all day. I agreed and freshened up while Edward padded next door to put on shoes and his jacket. I met him out in the hallway and we went down to the lobby to ask the concierge about some local spots. The woman behind the desk suggested a few places and we decided Greek was in order, and hailed a taxi to The Greek Islands.

The ride over was quiet; I was trying to make sense of the mess in my head and couldn't be bothered with idle conversation. Why was this so difficult? Scolding myself for what seemed like the hundredth time, I chastised my cerebral self for not getting my hormonal side under control. Truly, I was making an effort to be nicer; but it was a constant war in my head and I knew my actions and words must be all over the map. Nasty and nice, stiff and relaxed, formal to friendly and back. I must be confusing the shit out of Edward; I know I was confusing the shit out of me. God, I wish the girls were here, to pull me out of this…whatever it is.

Esme, I knew, would choose to focus on the fact that I was trying to be less of a tyrant, but with mixed success and manic mood swings. She'd be supportive regardless. Rose would undoubtedly tell me to screw him and get it out of my system; the girl could always be counted on to expose the crux of the problem. Alice, bless her heart, would surely tell me to surrender to my emotions and see where it took me. But I'd been there before; hell, they'd all been there with me. And every time, like clockwork, it would implode and I'd be left with one more battle scar, one more brick to add to my impenetrable wall. Another reason why I couldn't actually have it all and a reminder that I didn't have time for a man in my life.

This connection – or whatever it was – with Edward confounded me, angered me, frustrated the hell out of me, and drew me to him like a damned magnet. It was as if he was a flame and I was the moth; there was no thought, no sense of self-preservation – just an instinctual compulsion. How long could I keep up the farce? We needed to maintain the professional boundary and I was determined to be the one to uphold it no matter what, but it was becoming increasingly onerous. And why did I take this on myself completely, like it was my new raison d'etre? I knew I was tough, damn it, but with Edward it was like raising the bar. Damn it, I'm not a horrible person, although no one would know that by observing me.

Suddenly I felt denigrated and hopeless, despite it being my own doing. But what could I do? It was so ingrained, so deeply rooted in the person I presented to the world. Was I hopeless? Was this all my fault? And was I damning myself to a successful but personally empty life? The lurch of the taxi as it stopped distracted me from my mental flogging.

"Ms. Swan, are you coming?" Edward bent over with his head in the door of the cab, and I cringed now at the sound of my name on his lips. Ms. Swan. How utterly cold. And appropriate. I smiled weakly and nodded, scooting over the seat to step onto the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. We were seated quickly at a small table in a dimly-lit corner of the restaurant, which was fine with me. It felt like my shame was written all over my face, and the less lighting to bring attention to it, the better. This was an entirely foreign emotion.

Edward appeared confused by my silence, but ordered a bottle of wine and fava and grilled peta bread as an appetizer. After the waiter had poured our glasses and departed, Edward leaned over the table and looked intently at me.

"Is everything alright," he asked seeming, strangely enough, genuinely concerned. "You've been really quiet since we left the hotel. Is something bothering you?" I exhaled loudly in reply, but couldn't find the words. I didn't want to lie to him, but there was no way in hell I was ready to be completely honest.

"I'm fine," I said, my reassurance coming out harsh. His expression faltered slightly, so I continued. "I'm just preoccupied with the conference and want this to go well. It's nothing." Edward's expression slid off his beautiful face as he read my tone and demeanor. And as I watched him gather himself, a hardened look now spreading across his visage, I felt another piece of my wall crumble.

He looks like I'm torturing him, slowly. Am I? Oh my God. I am. I've done it again. He was expressing concern for my well-being and I rebuked him. For all of the self-reflection I'd done since he came to work at Swan & Platte, I was still utterly useless, a shadow of the person I used to know. And I had no idea how to get that girl back. Quickly I reached for my full wine glass and drained the contents. The red wine immediately warmed my skin and I smacked my lips.

"Look, Edward," I began, but then stopped. Looking down into my lap, I tried to summon the courage to start this conversation. If I didn't say something, I was sure now that I'd lose him. "I'm…I'm sorry."

At these words, I glanced up to find him looking at me with a mixture of surprise and incredulity. Then he quickly reassembled the business-like façade and replied.

"I'm sorry too," Edward said. "For saying things I shouldn't have, and for not living up to your expectations of me. What I said that night – it was wrong. You didn't deserve that. I understand now."

"First of all, Edward, you have lived up to Esme's and my expectations," I said softly, adding a half-smile. "And as for what you said that night – like I said before – let's just forget it." Then I replayed the last bit of what he'd said. "And what do you mean that you understand?"

"Well, I understand that you're a successful businesswoman, and you have worked really hard to get to where you are," he answered. So far he was right, so I nodded. "I know that there's a double standard in the corporate world; if a man's aggressive it's a favorable trait. Not so for a woman. It's a burden that you have to shoulder, and I just want you to know that I respect that."

As I drank my wine I considered his comments. Nothing that he said was untrue, but it seemed like I was missing something, though what, I couldn't ascertain. My thoughts were beginning to get fuzzy around the edges as we ordered; Edward got the roasted lamb and I the mousaka. By the time our meals arrived, I ordered another bottle of wine for us.

"So, is that all," I asked him and taking another gulp. The sarcasm that accompanied the question was involuntary, though now I was determined to connect the dots. "That's your understanding of me?"

Edward looked at me with confusion. I admit that I was waiting for more – an insult, a derogatory comment, something that would relay to me that my sabotage had been successful; something that would give him up. So many times when we had been together, I could feel the aggression rolling off him in waves, crashing right into me. But I wanted a confirmation; as if that would somehow make it all worthwhile. I don't know what the hell I was thinking.

"I don't understand," he began, visibly put-off. "I'm just sharing with you my observations. What I really wanted to know was if something was bothering you."

"Well, it seems that you know exactly what's bothering me, Edward," I countered. "Apparently because I'm a successful businesswoman, I'm an emotional train wreck. Isn't that what you're getting at?"

Once more, Edward gaped at me from across our little table, and suddenly I wished the distance between us were greater. He looked like he wanted to punch me.

"No, that's not what I meant, and you know it, damn it! Why do you have to be like this," he asked, exasperated, gesturing with a long-fingered hand. "God, I was just trying to…forget it. Just forget it."

My brain was two paces behind, slowed by the wine, as he looked around us, spying the exit. He dropped his fork onto the plate, and then his napkin, and pushed his chair back loudly. Pulling on his coat, he looked at me again, and this time there was anger and resignation in his green eyes.

"Look, I'm sorry for whatever distress I might have caused you these past two months, but it's done now," he said, his bitterness palpable. "I've tried to make this work, for my career and for Esme, but I've hit a wall. Please excuse me."

Swiftly he walked away from the table, leaving me sitting there like a jilted lover. I sprang out of my seat and reached the door just as his hand made contact with it. Unfortunately I had been unprepared for this type of outburst, and my anger boiled over.

"Where do you think you're going? Don't you dare make this about me," I fumed. "I've seen your type so many times before; hotshot exec who thinks he's the best thing since sliced bread. People like you come and go in our profession. Don't think that just because you're good at your job that you're irreplaceable."

Thus am I still provok'd to every evil
By this good-wicked spirit, sweet angel-devil.

In retrospect, it was like watching a car crash in slow motion; I saw it all happening, but it was like an out-of-body experience and I was powerless to control it. First were the insults and the vocalization of all the thoughts I'd had when he first started at Swan & Platte. As soon as they leapt from my mouth I wanted to cram them back in like a squirrel hording acorns before winter. And then came his reaction, and the face that had become, sadly, so familiar to me: hardened eyes, jaw clenched and his face inches from mine. And then came the death blow.

"Ms. Swan, consider this my resignation. I will stay here in Chicago until the end of the conference, and do what you and Esme require of me, but nothing more," he said coldly. "I will contact Esme first thing in the morning to alert her of this change so that she can begin the process of selecting my replacement." And he pushed through the door and into the cold night air, leaving me once again.

Stunned into autopilot, I walked back to our table, paid the check and grabbed my coat. Wrapping it tightly around me, I stepped outside and started walking down the street. Somewhere around the fifth block I realized it had started snowing again.

Edward had quit.

And it was entirely my fault.

Shit. Esme is absolutely going to kill me.

Author's Note: Okay gang. Sorry but this thing is just such a mess that there was no way Bella and Edward were going to immediately hold hands and make up.

So the drama will continue into the next chapter, to be sure.

Please let me know what you think and have faith – Bella is going to be taking a big bite of that humble pie soon!

Another note: just for point of reference, the poems I used here were from two sources. The first is a passage from Ode to Beauty by Mary Darby Robinson and the others are all taken, in sequence, from Idea XX: An evil spirit, your beauty, haunts me still by Michael Drayton. No copyright infringement intended here, either.