BPOV

For the last four days I had come in to a routine. Possibly the strangest routine I'd had in my life, but it was a routine nonetheless. I would get to the theater around nine every morning. Usually carrying some kind of Starbucks treat that I knew Edward liked even though he told me every day I didn't need to bring him anything.

The day after my first at the theater Edward showed me to a smaller office I could call mine whenever I needed it. It had a desk and a chair and that was all I really needed. I spent most mornings responding to hundreds of odd requests for Edward to comment on this or appear on some obscure British game show. The range of requests was as odd as it was comical.

By two I typically had a few scripts to approve. I had a feeling the writers were going easy on me for now. Things had been mild so far but they were drastically different from what they used to write for him. I knew it was only a matter of time before they tried to sneak something in to test if I was actually going to cut it or not.

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, I didn't see Edward much. I saw him in the hallways sometimes and I watched him filming every afternoon. Every night as he walked out I would draw a smile over my face with my fingers, attempting to get him to lose the slight scowl. It always earned me a soft smile, so it seemed worth it.

Fixing his image was going to take more than a new attitude and material. It had been too long that people associated him as being rude and unapproachable. I needed to take things slow, though. Not only for the sake of the public but for him, too.

He was trying, I could tell. He gave me a soft smile every night and I could practically see him resist the urge to roll his eyes throughout the show. Still, we were going to need more if he wasn't going to slip back to being uninterested in all of this again.

I had ideas, but I knew he would hate them all. He didn't seem the type to want to make an Instagram account or even do an interview if he wasn't the one asking the questions.

I was also still in the process of doing damage control. And learning every possible way his life could blow up in my face. You would have thought two weeks of absorbing every ounce of information about him would be enough, but I was still learning new things every day.

Still, my biggest hurdle was his marriage. Which was how I ended up closing out my Thursday night standing outside Demetri Hill's home. They were supposed to know I was coming, but they didn't necessarily know why.

I knocked before I lost my courage. Demetri Hill answered. He was a finance guy, I got bored reading his actual job title. Well off and attractive enough I supposed. He had dark hair with too much product in it and cold blue eyes. He was bulky, kind of like Emmett, but his posture left me much more intimidated than I had ever been around Emmett.

Seeing him in person left me even more confused about how anyone in their right mind would chose him over Edward.

"Hello," I said softly. "I'm Isabella Swan, Edward's publicist. May I come in?"

"Of course. Come in. Irina will be down in a moment."

I nodded, walking in and looking around quickly. It was a beautiful place, of course, but knowing who lived here tainted the beauty a bit. Demetri led me through the house, stopping at a long dining table. Just as we got there, Irina sauntered in.

She was beautiful and it made my butterflies, the ones I had spent the last four days trying to brutally murder, seem even more idiotic. Her hair fell in waves down her shoulders, strawberry blonde and perfectly highlighted. Her eyes were crystal blue and her face somehow glowing even in the dim lighting.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me," I started, pulling out the two files from my bag. "This shouldn't take too long. I just need you two to sign these."

I stood across the table from them, pushing the folders toward them. "You're welcome to have a lawyer look them over if you'd like. They're fairly straightforward non-disclosure agreements. It just says that if you leak any information about Ms. Denali's marriage, or lack thereof, to Mr. Cullen you will personally be liable for about $2.5 Million dollars in damages."

Demetri's cold eyes flashed in my direction. "That seems a little dramatic, don't you think?"

"No, I don't," I answered, pulling out two pens and sliding them across the table as well. "I should also note that it is you, personally, responsible for the damages. Especially in your case, Ms. Denali. Your shared accounts with Mr. Cullen will be void if used to pay."

To her credit, Irina looked a little hurt. "I've never done anything to hurt him."

"I would beg to differ, considering you fucked your neighbor while you were still married to him."

The whole situation was confusing to me. Why was Edward fine with still being married to her while she lived her happily ever after out with Demetri? I admired them for staying together for their children, for not wanting them to read about their parents lives in magazines, but they could handle it now. And watching these two together made me angrier than I had been in a long time.

"He's the one fucking around, now," Demetri grumbled, picking up the pen and signing the form.

I rolled my eyes, keeping my mouth shut and pulling the papers back towards me. I wanted out of here as soon as possible, and I had what I needed now. I pulled out two cards from my bag. "If anyone calls you asking about Mr. Cullen, I'd appreciate a heads up. Thank you for your time."

Irina followed me to the door, but I ignored her presence. Especially when she whispered, "He doesn't go for brunettes," to me as I walked past her.

I ignored her, not even flinching when the door slammed shut behind me. Once in the safety of my car, movement from an upstairs window caught my eye. I could barely make out Lucy and Masen looking down at me.

-B-

I scrolled through the Instagram feed of Edward's new page. He didn't know about it yet, and I wasn't planning on telling him about it any time soon. He'd hate it and get all grumpy. It was purely promotional at this point anyway. It wasn't like I was pretending to be him. Not really.

I smiled at the gradually increasing number of followers and slid my phone in the back pocket of my jeans. Coffee in hand, I opened Edward's office door to drop it off, nearly dropping the cup on the ground when I saw the head of blonde hair sitting opposite of him.

The frown I got from him rivaled that of the one I got when I first met him.

"You made Irina and Demetri sign NDAs?" he grunted out, perhaps the most angry I had ever seen him.

"I didn't make them sign anything," I shrugged. It wasn't like I held a gun to their heads or anything.

"Isabella – " he snapped, running a hand angrily through his hair. "I don't want a life run by NDAs and contracts and. I told you I would cooperate, but this is crossing a fucking line."

He cursed when he was angry. I had noticed he tended to keep it to a minimum on a regular basis, maybe it made it easier to make sure nothing slipped out when he was filming. Even so, I decided I didn't really appreciate it when it was directed at me.

"Well, all due respect Mr. Cullen, if that was the case then you got in the wrong business. Do you know how many people would kill for your job? How fast they would exploit your marriage situation to benefit them?"

They were both quiet, though I didn't have my eyes on Irina. They were on Edward's softening expression. "I understand, technically, she's your wife. But she's also living down the street with another man. She's not my client. I don't care about her or her feelings or her reputation."

It was harsh, but true. Especially after last night and her little brunette comment. "I've tried to take things slow, because I know you're trying. But this," I waved my arms between the two of them. "Is going to blow up in your face eventually. I'm just trying to do my fucking job and put that off for as long as possible," I snapped, throwing his own cursing back in his face.

"You are more than welcome to go to Newton and request someone else, but any publicist in their right mind would be handing out NDAs left and right in this situation."

I left as quickly as I came, tossing the full cup of coffee in the trash can right outside his office. My petty side hoped he heard it. Once I was in my own little office I had the simultaneous urge to scream and punch something.

My career choice was frustrating, dealing with people and emotions and the public would always be frustrating. But, I was fairly certain Edward was making it doubly so. He was always so hot and cold. Half the time he admitted he needed help and tried to fix what he could on his part, and the next he was yelling about NDAs or lists of women. In three days, it would probably be the Instagram page.

I had only been working with him a week and I was already exhausted. Physically and emotionally spent. He was frustrating and stubborn and beautiful and still made my stomach fill with damn butterflies every time I saw him.

I gave myself three minutes to stew in my own anger before I pulled my computer out of my bag. Right when I was opening it up, three soft knocks sounded at the door.

"Come in," I mumbled, wondering for about the tenth time this week if I was going to get fired.

I had no chair opposite of me for him to sit. The office was tiny, only big enough for a simple wooden desk and chair in front of the window behind me. With the lack of space, Edward leaned against the door jam.

Of course, seeing him standing there, casually crossing his arms across his chest, made my butterflies come to life. My attempts to murder them over the past four days had been worthless so far.

"I'm sorry," he declared, his voice surprisingly firm and ringing with affirmation.

"You don't have to apologize," I mumbled, dropping my eyes back to my computer. I wasn't technically his employee, considering his mother was the one that hired me, but he was still kind of my boss. Except he never told me what to do and I constantly did things I knew he would hate. It was an odd dynamic.

"Regardless of what I'm sure you've learned about me online, I don't try to be an asshole."

"I know," I agreed. It was nice to know that everything I read about him online had been untrue. It made my job a hundred times harder, but it was a relief to know I wasn't defending the jerk I once thought him to be.

He was still a jerk sometimes, and constantly made me want to rip my hair out, but he was working on it. I thought.

"I never wanted my life to be so… calculated and scrutinized. That's why I avoided publicists once I started the show."

His honesty about his life and career always surprised me. From his admission that he lost himself in the show when he stopped writing to this, he was never what I expected him to be.

"It's a great sentiment, but not very logical these days. Everyone is trying to tear everyone else down to get ahead, especially in this town," I shrugged. I grabbed the folder containing Irina and Demetri's agreements out of my bag. "You can tear them up, if you trust them."

I had absolutely no trust in them. It didn't matter that they'd had this agreement or arrangement for seven years. It only took the right amount of money to make someone talk.

Edward walked over and picked the file up off of my desk, eyes scanning the agreement. I bit my tongue, thinking he was going to tear them up right in front of me.

"$2.5 Million?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "And no joint account. You're very thorough."

"Well, a lawyer wrote it. I did make sure the account stipulation was in there. I can write a great press release, though," I said with a smile.

Edward dropped the folder back on my desk. "Keep them. I trust your judgement."

His words sent a shot of pride through me. Then I remembered the handful of other things that I hadn't told him about. Most of which would give him the same impression that I was making his life calculated and scrutinized.

"In the interest of full transparency… maybe we should have a weekly meeting. Where I can tell you about NDAs and things so we don't have a repeat of this morning."

Edward nodded with a smirk that made my butterflies very, very happy. "Does tonight work for you?"

Tonight. Friday. The night Rose made me promise to keep clear for my date-but-not-really-a-date with Jacob.

"Oh, I can't tonight. I have a, uh, a date," I mumbled. I had to have been imagining it, the way his entire body suddenly tensed at the word date. How his eyes lost the playful glimmer they had and his jaw set.

"Of course. It's Friday, you're young and have plans," he said, his voice confusingly… gloomy. "How does Sunday work. Same time as last week?"

I nodded. "I'll be there."

He left without another word and I was just as confused about him as I was before he walked in.

It was a big adjustment, I supposed. He'd been hosting the show for seven years, had a small acting career before that. And he supposedly hated the typical Hollywood lifestyle of creating an image for the public to love. Then I came along and turned that all upside down.

With the pressure from Newton and Cheney I had to constantly fight against the mindset of starting hard and fast with Edward. I didn't think I was taking things too fast, but maybe I still was. I needed to take smaller steps. Ease up on the NDAs.

-B-

I changed in the bathroom after running out to my car to get the dress I had stashed in the back. Rose and I had gone shopping a few nights ago and I had settled on the tamest of the options she chose for me.

It was a simple black dress with an asymmetrical neckline, leading up to a thin strap across one shoulder. There was a slit up my thigh that I didn't love so much, but it wasn't as high up as a few of my other options. I had even thought ahead and worn a pair of black heels that would go with the dress and stuffed a smaller clutch in my tote for the night.

I fastened a bracelet on my wrist as I walked down the hall. The show had just finished taping and I knew I was going to be stuck in the retreating traffic. My mind was on bumper to bumper traffic and the frustrating clasp that I couldn't fasten when I bumped into a solid chest.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I gasped, looking up in to shining green eyes.

Edward's hands were wrapped firmly around my biceps, steadying me and making my entire body feel like it was fluttering away with my butterflies. He cleared his throat and quickly dropped his hands once he was sure I wasn't about to topple over.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

"Um, yes. Thank you. Sorry," I stuttered, dropping the annoying bracelet in my bag and quickly stepping out of his way.

"Have a good night, Bella," he murmured, suddenly sounding an odd mix of sad and angry.

"You too, Edward," I mumbled, scurrying down the hall and away from the feeling of his eyes on me as I left.

I was late to the restaurant and spent the hour stuck in traffic trying to come up with an excuse to not show up. I should have agreed to meeting with Edward tonight, but I thought small doses might help me kill my butterflies. They had already spent a while today fluttering around because of him.

Dating really had never interested me. I had thought about it a time or two, wondered what it would be like to have someone I could call my boyfriend. Someone to kiss and hold my hand and do things I had never done before with. It was all uncharted territory, though, and it terrified me.

Of course, it would remain uncharted territory until I did it, but that didn't make biting the bullet any easier. It also didn't help that my conversing skills were atrocious.

That thought made Edward float through my mind again, because I seemed to be able to blurt out the stupidest things around him. I had to shake that thought out of my head as I walked into the surprisingly calm restaurant.

It was a quaint little place, candles on every table and soft music playing in the background. Even with my inexperience in dating I knew it wasn't the kind of place you went to for a double date. This was definitely solo, romantic date kind of material.

Rosalie stood from a table in the back and waved me over. I let out a deep breath before I got to her and the two men sitting with her.

I knew Emmett well. He seemed to get that I wasn't big on chatting whenever I was at the gym, or in general, which I appreciated. He would ask me how I was, check on me every once in a while, and that was it.

This Jacob guy, Jacob Black, I had never seen before. He stood as I approached the table and I had to argue with Rose's claim that he wasn't as bulky as Emmett. He had a nice smile, I supposed. Cropped dark hair and dark eyes like mine. His skin looked naturally tan, a stark contrast to the obvious fake tans that roamed the streets around here.

I thought, maybe hoped, that my butterflies would wake up when I met him. I was very aware that they were dangerous around Edward, that the situation would only get worse if they kept flying around.

There was nothing, though. Not even a wing twitching in my stomach when he smiled at me.

"Hi," Jacob greeted me, smiling and shaking my hand with a firm grip.

Still, no butterflies.

"Hello," I replied, already out of things to say. I sat in my chair quickly, beside Rose and across from Jacob. I nervously smoothed my hands down my lap, wishing I was anywhere but here.

"Sorry I'm a little late," I added, proud of myself for having something else to say. How pathetic could I be?

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Emmett wink at me. He was one of the only men I knew who could wink and not look creepy. Him, and…

"No worries," Jacob answered with a smile. "So, Rose said you work in public relations?"

"Yes, I do."

Awkward. Awkward. Oh, so awkward.

"Any interesting clients?"

"I just have one, for now. It's, um, Edward Cullen."

As if on cue, just the mention of his name made my butterflies happily float around my stomach. Traitorous little buggers.

"No shit. The Tonight Show with Edward Cullen, Edward Cullen?"

"Yes, that's the one." I also happen to have a completely inappropriate crush on him and no feelings toward you whatsoever, I added in my head. Thankfully my filter was much more tight around anyone that wasn't the aforementioned Tonight Show host.

"Wow. Is he as big of an asshole in person as he seems to be on TV?"

I inwardly flinched at his accusation. Not because it meant my work wasn't showing any result to people like Jacob. But, because for some reason, hearing someone else express their negative feelings about him hurt. Something I wasn't sure every publicist felt for their clients.

"He's not as bad as you may think," I answered, even though I wasn't sure what I thought about him anymore. He was sweet one second and then walked out of my office without another word the next. The constant back and forth, the never-ending tally in my mind of whether he was good or bad, it was all getting exhausting.

"Really?" Jacob asked, surprised.

"I can't really talk about him," I shrugged. It was the truth, but I also needed my distance from him. The only reason I agreed to this date in the first place was to distract myself from him, and it wasn't doing a great job so far.

"Yeah, I bet he's got you on a pretty strict NDA," Jacob joked, taking a swig of the beer bottle in front of him.

My snort was involuntary and embarrassing. The idea of Edward requesting a NDA from me, especially after this morning, was laughable. I had already signed one with Newton & Cheney, but I doubted he knew that.

I shook my head; frustrated Edward was still floating through my thoughts. "My PR firm does," I sighed. "So, what do you do?"

By the end of the night I knew more about Jacob Black than I ever really wanted to. He was one of those people that could talk and talk and only need the barest of acknowledgements that you were actually paying attention to them. It was probably why Rosalie thought he would be good for me.

He was a realtor. Quite the profitable profession when you lived in the land of $50 million-dollar mansions. He was from the middle-of-nowhere Minnesota and asked polite questions about my middle-of-nowhere childhood in Washington which I dodged by asking about his sisters.

He was a nice guy. He did seem sweet and genuine, like Rosalie said. But, I felt nothing for him. I didn't know how these things worked, but I was fairly certain I should feel even the smallest bit of interest in him by this point.

Once we were done with dinner he walked me to my car, inconveniently parked in the opposite direction of Emmett and Rosalie. I fiddled with my keys and hated the way his hand felt on my back.

"I had a good time tonight," Jacob said, smiling down at me when I turned to face him.

"Me, too," I lied, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

I regretted the words immediately because they seemed to give him the green light to swoop down and press his lips to mine. I gasped, shocked, but he took it to be a more positive reaction than it really was.

I pulled back quickly, pressing my lips together and pushing on his chest to give us a little distance. "I'm sorry. I just – I'm not – dating isn't really, um – "

"Shit, it's okay. I'm sorry. I thought… it's okay," Jacob stuttered, a slight flush to his cheeks now.

"Sorry," I repeated.

"It's fine, Bella. Really. I'll see you around, okay?"

"Okay," I nodded, knowing full well I wouldn't see him around. Hoping I wouldn't. I got in the car, waving awkwardly at him as I drove off.

Once I got home I locked myself in my bedroom, not having the energy to talk to Rose when, if, she came home tonight. I showered quickly and pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell into bed.

I hated my awkwardness and inability to hold a conversation. Hated not being able to suck it up and try to enjoy a date with a nice guy. And I really, really, hated waking up in the middle of the night, moaning Edward's name.

A/N: Hope you're enjoying these two. We should be on track for M/W/F updates next week, too! See you then!

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