Nowforruin betas this. THANK you.
I don't own Twilight. Any similarities to actual persons or events, alive or dead, real or fictitious, are merely coincidental, and most likely the product of my feverish imagination.
13.
2007
A loaded silence ensued during which I debated what to say next.
"Edward?"
"I'm here," I choked out, heeding Alice's warning.
"I'm sorry to bother you––"
"Don't be."
"Listen … about the present … I just wanted to say ––"
"I got the note." I cleared my throat and made a quick decision. "So … how about lunch?"
"Oh…" I sensed some hesitation in her voice. I didn't get why she was wavering. After all, she was the one who kept on calling me insisting that we should be friends, whining about how much she missed spending time with me. I didn't get.
"Listen, why don't we start from scratch?" I tried my best to stay calm and reasonable.
"Okay. Same place, same time?"
"Sure. I'll see you then."
"Great. Bye."
I didn't respond and waited for her to hang up first. She didn't.
"Edward?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you," she breathed, and suddenly I couldn't get off the phone quick enough.
I fucked around the office until I was almost late for our lunch date. When I got to the restaurant, Isabella was sitting at our table in the back, nervously glancing around the place, until she saw me approaching. A small smile appeared on her lips, but it wasn't masking what belied it. Her hands played nervously around the rim of a cup filled with steaming liquid, and her eyes looked hollow, shadows underneath them–signs of anxiety and fatigue.
"Hey." I tossed my jacket over the chair next to me and sat down.
"Hey," she murmured, gazing into the cup between her hands. "So…"
"Where do we start?"
Her head lifted minutely and her eyes peeked up at me. The hair pulled together into a too tight bun and the new set of slightly bigger diamond studs made her look older, too old almost. She looked like she'd lost some weight as well, and it didn't suit her.
"I don't know." She shifted in her chair.
"Okay…well." I reached my hand over the table. "Edward Cullen. Pleasure to meet you. Have we met before?"
She rolled her eyes before straightening her shoulders. "Likewise and I think we have. Isabella Swan." Her fingers reached for mine. I glanced at her left wrist.
"New watch?"
She retracted her hand from mine and attempted to cover up the new Rolex she was wearing.
"Birthday present from my dad. So … what are you up to these days?" she asked, exhaling sharply.
"Working a lot and not much else. How about you?"
"Same." Her face took on a somber expression. "Except, I still don't do anything that requires a brain. Most of the time in the office I spend at the copy machine."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Why did you do it … take the job with your dad?" I wanted to hear it from her, not as a secondhand tale. Maybe I was also curious to see whether she'd be honest with me. And she was, even down to the embarrassing details about handing in the work that wasn't hers.
I laughed when she was done, self-consciously looking everywhere but at me.
"Don't laugh," she snapped, tossing a napkin she'd been clutching at me. "When I forwarded the work to my uncle, I wanted to disclose that I'd had help. You were the one who told me not to."
"So what happened?" I couldn't hide my amusement at her shame.
"First, I was scared you'd get into trouble if they found out who'd done the work … and then Kate practically begged me to take the job, complaining how long she had to spend every day on the Long Island Railroad traveling to her parents' house and how she could swing contributing a bit to the maintenance fees of the apartment … how fun it would be, and she really needed this after what had happened to her … well, you get the gist. I know it's stupid. Come on say it, I'm a pushover!"
I was surprised by her candor, though I shouldn't have been. She'd always been straightforward when asked a question directly.
"I'm not going there. Though I do think I might have to teach you a trick."
"What trick would that be?"
"How to say 'no' without feeling guilty."
"You're right …" She sighed wistfully. "To be honest, my father has to know it wasn't my work. I've worked on one project since I started in the job, and I botched that up royally."
We placed our regular order and talked about nothing of consequence. Considering what had happened between us, we fell back into our old pattern remarkably quick, talking about the office, her job – yet dancing surreptitiously around anything of substance. The weeks we hadn't talked had given me time to think, and I'd come to the realization that I'd never fully know her until I queried into the areas that were uncomfortable.
"So, how's the boyfriend?" I started out.
She looked at me quietly for a little too long.
"What? You don't want to talk about it? If we're supposed to be friends, don't you think we should?" I mocked her, but I was serious.
"He's fine … we're fine, I guess," she corrected herself. "He's been really busy working as well." She shrugged. Her attitude seemed rather blasé. The grand declarations of love she'd professed so fervently while tipsy during our first afternoon together were missing. "Are you seeing anyone?"
"No."
"Right," she taunted. "You don't date. How could I forget?"
"Oh, but I'm not sure that it'd still be an accurate statement."
"How so?" she asked, laughing.
"I only ever wanted one girl, and she's unavailable. So you see, therein lies my dilemma." The reaction on her face was immediate; the smile disappeared quickly and a frown line formed between her eyebrows.
"Don't do that, Edward."
"It's the truth." She stared at her plate, moving a piece of ginger around with her chopsticks. "Look at me." When she did, her face looked pained. I wasn't sure if it was guilt or something else that gnawed at her. "If you want to stay in touch, I think I should be honest with you. I like you and I wanted more than friendship. I don't think I ever made a secret of that.
"I'm here now, willing to give this another try. But don't ask me to lie or to pretend."
"I'm sorry, I screwed up." She dropped the chopsticks. "For some reason I thought if I'd slept with you, I'd just be another notch on your belt of never ending conquests. We'd get rid of the tension and could just be..."
"Was that your plan? Really?" I had a feeling that not reining in my anger would work out to be a mistake, but couldn't help myself. "Mission accomplished? Tension dissipated?"
"I can't do this," she said with determination, looking me straight in the eyes. "I know I made a mistake. I misjudged you, but can you really blame me? You garnered quite a reputation for sleeping around at the firm. Hell, you never even made a secret about it."
Arguing with her wasn't going to get me anywhere. I could've told her that, unlike me, I'd never attempted to be friends with the women I slept with.
"Okay … I guess I had it coming," I admitted.
"Still. I knew you, well … know you. I'm sorry." I didn't know why she was backpedaling.
"Bella, can you do me a favor?"
"Yes, of course."
"Please, please, please stop apologizing or saying you're sorry. It's okay. Stick to your point and let's just move on."
"Fine."
As I walked back to my office alone, I wasn't sure what to make of our lunch. In one respect Emmett was right–it felt better to have her in my life than to not. And the fact that I had a plan in place to get rid of Riley calmed me, reassured me, that this wasn't the end. I'd just have to play along until she came around.
And I did.
Bella(dot)Swan(dot)88(at)gmail(dot)com
Eacullen(at)wohlfman(dot)com
Hey!
Do you have a private e-mail address?
Bella
Cullen(dot)10314(at)gmail(dot)com
Bella(dot)Swan(dot)88(at)gmail(dot)com
Private? This better be good.
A box popped up to approve Bella(dot)Swan(dot)88 on my chat list.
- Hi!
- be careful w/asking for my help on work related stuff. u know where that got u the last time!
- No, never again. I'm bored. This guy, James, he started working here at the same time as I, and he's all eager. I can't fake it anyway – it's hopeless. James has taken the lead after I screwed up.
- I see. so what r u doing all day then?
- God, Edward. I can't believe you are writing in this awful text message speak.
- I'm busy. u should b glad I'm responding all. Not all of us have the luxury 2 get paid 4 doing nothing.
- I'm sorry. You really do think I'm a spoiled, silly girl.
- Silly? No. Girl? Definitely. Spoiled? Yes. Maybe u should own up 2 it?
- Never.
- Tell me something 2 make me change my mind?
- You are obviously far too busy for that. It's a long story. Let's just say, I don't have a choice.
- I'm all ears/eyes?
- Another time?
- Sure.
~o0o~
By the time Thursday, October 11, 2007 rolled around on the calendar–the day the Dow would reach its highest point while homeowners started to default in droves as the new interest rates for their adjustable rate mortgages started kicking in–I'd almost forgotten about the plan I'd set in motion.
It wasn't even ten thirty that night when I got the call.
"Everything worked out smoothly. She walked right in on us," the girl informed me. "Call Irina if you ever need my services again."
"Thanks."
I hit the red button and deleted her number.
On my instruction, Alice called Bella shortly afterward. I was relieved to find out that she'd made it home.
"Did she say anything?"
"Yeah, she said that she'd just broken up with Riley … but she didn't say why. I'm going over to her place now. Don't worry."
I should've been pleased, but I wasn't. I couldn't sleep and ended up pulling an all-nighter working on a deal involving the privatization of a real estate investment trust. Billy Black was one of directors who'd put the deal together. Personally, I didn't see the rational behind the transaction–foreclosures were already on the rise, dragging the value of real estate down, but I was too preoccupied to question it.
By six AM, feeling sick, I called my driver to take me to the office. I ordered oatmeal and tea for breakfast from the deli downstairs, and continued working.
By nine, unable to wait any longer, I called Alice again.
"How's she doing?"
"Honestly, she seems to be fine. We had two shots of tequila, she told me what happened and that was it. I mean she was angry … mostly because she said she always believed him when he swore to her that he'd never cheat. I think she was planning on going to work today. Call her, if you want. It's strange really," Alice mused.
"Why?"
"She's almost too calm and cool about it … I don't know." She paused. "Don't worry about it. I think we did the right thing."
I hung up and logged into my gmail account. She wasn't online, but she picked up the phone on first ring when I called.
"Hi, Edward," she answered, sounding out of breath. "Listen, I took the day off to run errands. When do you think you'll be home tonight? I'll call you then."
"I don't know … about eight? Why?"
"Great! Talk to you then."
She hung up without another word.
As the Dow bounced for a bit, I left the office early. I hadn't done that in at least three years.
The unsettling feeling that something could still work against me didn't entirely vanish. I pretty much spent most of the early evening pacing back and forth in my living room, not even registering when the newscaster announced that the Dow had dropped some points for the first time in a long time–a sign that the bubble had started to burst. I didn't care.
When my doorman called up at seven thirty, I almost didn't want to answer, too focused on my phone.
"A Ms. Swan is here to see you Mr. Cullen. May I send her up?"
"Yes, please."
I wasn't sure what to expect next. My mouth went dry as I waited for the sound that announced the elevator's arrival on my floor. She'd never paid me a spontaneous visit.
"Hey," she greeted me, wearing a tight mini-dress, a loosely draped scarf around her shoulders and riding boots. I stood in my door wondering what was happening for a second. Her hair hung in long straight strands over her shoulder and meticulously applied makeup highlighted her features. Gold hoop earrings I'd never seen before on her completed the look. "Aren't you gonna let me in?"
She walked past me with a swing in her step, dropping the jacket and the snake leather clutch she'd tucked under her arm on a chair, moving her hand through her hair once. I got it then. I took another look as she stood in my living room where a cold breeze was flowing in from the open terrace door–her hardened nipples clearly visible without a bra affirmed it.
"Did you eat dinner yet?" I closed the door and followed her.
"No," she answered, biting her lip and dropping her scarf on the sofa. "Aren't you going to offer me a drink?"
I folded my arms over my chest and leaned back against the wall, enjoying the show before I had to put a stop to it.
"I don't think drinking on an empty stomach is such a great idea."
"What's wrong with you, Edward?" She rolled her eyes and started walking toward the liquor cabinet. "I thought we'd covered that subject already? You're neither my mother nor my father, so …"
"Listen. If you're here to screw your ex out of the system, forget about it. I'm not interested." I remained in my spot, a safe distance away.
"How…why?" She swallowed, shooting me a perturbed glance.
"Never mind."
Then it dawned on her. "Alice! I can't believe it. She told you I broke up with Riley?"
I nodded. There was no use denying it.
She sighed as she sunk down on the sofa and pulled her scarf back over her shoulders.
"Don't be mad at her."
She snickered. "I'm not. It's okay. Was I that obvious?" she mumbled with her hands covering her face.
"I'm going to be polite and not answer that. It's flattering, really."
"Great. Do you mind if I have a drink now? I think I need one." She played with the hem of her dress, pushing it down further self-consciously.
"Have dinner with me."
She didn't respond, but stared at me with wide eyes.
"You and me–a romantic date?" A hint of sarcasm tainted her voice.
"For tonight we can just call it dinner between friends. But tomorrow night will be a date."
She pushed her hair behind her ear and furrowed her brows in concentration, seemingly contemplating how to shoot me down.
"It's fine. Let's go," she said finally with a small smile on her face.
"So … did Alice tell you the details?" she asked as she sipped her first glass of wine at the restaurant.
"No. I was hoping you would."
I was expecting her to fumble, blush and fidget next. She didn't. "I caught him in bed with another girl. It was all rather weird. He'd sent me a text message around eight to come to his house. I never responded. Truthfully, I was planning on ignoring the message. We'd been fighting for a while. Plus, I knew he was at a party and would be drunk anyway. I was betting he'd have totally forgotten by the time I go home that he'd texted me. And sure enough, he must have …" She grimaced. "Oh, well … at least the girl was attractive ... pretty." She picked up her glass again and emptied it in one swig.
I pushed the breadbasket and olive oil dish over to her. She didn't argue and ate.
"Why does that matter?"
"Because … I think it would have stung more if she'd been just an average looking girl … but she was… umm," she dug into the prosciutto and melon dish the waiter had delivered, "so … I don't know … I guess, hot?" She wrinkled her forehead, before nodding to herself. "Yeah, definitely hot. Giselle Bündchen hot. Blonde, tall … at least judging by her legs and face. I mean I can't compete with that, can I? She looked like she'd jumped out of an underwear catalog. Skinny and big boobs? I'm not sure how that's possible … though on second thought, they did look real!"
I laughed.
"You are not allowed to laugh. Not as my date nor as my friend." She shot me a disapproving look.
"You're talking complete nonsense, so how can I help it?"
"No. I'm telling you the most humiliating story of my life and you…" She huffed. "You can't laugh! It's not nice."
"I never claimed to be nice." I leaned over the table, pulled her hands into mine and stared at her. "Nice is overrated. That girl, whoever she is –was–has nothing on you. You have to know that."
Her face lit up as she gazed at me.
"I told you once before that I like you just the way you are."
"I remember, and I still think you are full of it, Cullen."
"I meant it. I still do. You are perfect. And that guy is a fool."
"I know I'm not. Only you haven't figured out yet just how flawed I am. What you should know by now, however, is that I'm horrible at saying no and at planning."
"Yeah, that was an all time piss-poor performance on the planning part, Isabella. I'm not sure I'd call it a flaw though." My fingers grazed over the exposed skin of her arm, making her shiver.
She got drunk that night, polishing off three bottles of wine at the restaurant and some bourbon at my place. I guess it was inevitable. After she fell asleep on my sofa, I carried her to the spare bedroom, took her boots off and closed the door.
I slept well that night and woke up only when I felt someone move near me. I blinked and saw her lying next to me, wearing one of my shirts. Her wet hair was twisted together at the back of the head and her face was scrubbed clean of any traces of make-up.
I prefer that look on her—the one without makeup, so I can see the freckles on her nose and the tiny ones along her mouth.
She smiled when I opened my eyes.
"How long have you been up?"
"Mmmh … not that long. I hope you don't mind. I took a shower, borrowed one of your shirts … and," she closed her eyes briefly and whispered, "usedyourtoothbrush. Kill me know. I'm sorry."
"I don't care. Feel free to use anything you want."
"What if I take you up on that offer?" Her hand slid slowly over my stomach.
Her attempts at seduction are always so conspicuous and enticing.
"Maybe I need to clarify. There is one condition." I turned to face her.
"Wait." She brushed her fingers over my lips lightly. "Before you give me your condition, I need to say something."
She buried her face in my neck. When her hot breath fanned against my skin, I was about to forget about my condition and just pull her against me.
"Edward?"
"I'm waiting."
"You must know I like you. I'd never use you to get over Riley. I was over him a long time ago … I just didn't realize it. I thought I knew him and he turned out to be someone … something … entirely different. I'm sorry. I never meant to do this so backwards."
"Don't ever mention him again."
"Is that the condition?"
"Only part of it."
"Easy. What else?" She moved back and looked at me.
"You have to be with me."
"Date you?"
"I want more, but for now … yes."
"Are you sure? I don't know whether I'd have the stomach for a repeat per ––"
"Stop." I pulled her hands into mine and kissed the tips of the fingers. "I mean it. You and me. Nobody else. I would never do to you what he did. Never."
"Don't make promises you can't keep." Her eyes had wandered off into the distance. She sounded bitter and disappointed. At that moment, I couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible and it marked the first time I regretted setting the wheels in motion that led to her break-up.
Maybe I shouldn't have interfered? Maybe I should have let their relationship run its natural cause? Maybe she would've come to me without ever figuring out who Riley is? It's funny how I stew about it now—now that it's too late. Back then I didn't even question my decision.
"I'm not in the habit of doing that. This would be something new for me, but that doesn't mean I don't want it, or I wouldn't stick to what I promised. Your track record on the other hand isn't as assuring."
"I'm sorry ––" I kissed her before I had to hear one more word. She closed her eyes and kissed me back eagerly. Her hands started roaming and her tongue darted out.
"Deal?" I asked. She was lying on top of me, her body pressing against mine.
"Yes." She trailed kisses down my neck and rocked her hips against mine.
I halted her movements, not sure whether it was the right thing to do. I was weary of making the same mistake again.
"I want you. Please, Edward."
Unlike her, I was never any good at resisting temptation.
I worked my best to make her feel good that time, using all the tricks in the book and taking it slow. She panted and withered fast, and for the first time I felt something other than pride at those sounds. Before Bella, I'd never felt pleasure in bringing pleasure to someone other than myself. It had been an obligation of sorts, and I liked the fact I was good at it. But with her it was different. Making her feel good wasn't an accomplishment. To me, it was a gift.
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