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Don't Own.

Ch. 8: Moody Blue

I forgot about yesterday. I forced myself not to think about it, not to think about Edward.

I spent the next day working on my article, while bickering constantly with Edward over all the stupid little things he wanted to change.

He was irritable today, since for the past few days he'd felt a cold coming on, no doubt due to giving me his jacket in the snow. I'd been careful to be as accommodating as possible around him today, mainly because I felt responsible, and I was a little guilty for being so harsh yesterday.

Coming back from the coffeeshop on Wednesday, I sighed heavily. Upon entering the paper, I heard the oh-so-familiar voice of Sir Jerk-a-lot hollering at some poor journalist of mine.

It took less than ten seconds for me to figure out it was Clemons.

"—is the worst piece I've ever read in my life!" Edward was shouting, as I quickly made my way to Mr. Clemons' cubicle.

"I…I…sir…"

"Mr. Cullen, what is going on, here!" I intervened, stepping in between the cowering Clemons and the enraged Edward.

"I'm trying to run a newspaper. I can't keep printing this garbage!" he snarled, unleashing his anger at me. "Read this, just read it! This is what you've been printing for the past however long this imbecile has worked here!"

"Mr. Clemons, you may take your lunch break now." I said off to the side, as I took the hard copy of the article from Edward's hands and started to walk to my office.

"No, you may not." Edward said, holding his arm out to stop the poor man as he tried to escape.

"Yes, you may." I said, holding Edward's arm out of the way. Clemons stumbled past, skittering towards the door.

"You leave this office, you lose your job, Mr. Clemons!" Edward shouted, causing him to stop dead in his tracks. He cleared his throat loudly, trying not to cough. I would have felt bad at that point, for him being sick, but I was too annoyed at him.

"I assure you, Neil, your job is safe." I called out.

"Are you undermining my authority?" He snarled at me, as I glared up at him. I was aware that everyone in the office was poking their heads out of their cubicles, to watch this showdown.

But I didn't care. He was infuriating me, again.

Clemons had sought out my advice the Monday before, and I had edited his article and given it back to him to rewrite. And it was considerably better than before.

He was sincerely trying, and he was getting better. I couldn't let Edward rip him to shreds like that.

"This is a newspaper, not a dictatorship." I said coldly. "I personally corrected this article, and I saw great improvement. You need to get off his case, alright?"

"I hope you're aware that I can fire you any moment, like that." He said, snapping his fingers. He was reeling in his anger a little, but it was still smoldering.

"I hope you're aware that you're bluffing." I said, turning my back on him and going back to my office. Clemons was still standing at the door, frightened. "Clemons, go to lunch."

"B-but Miss Swan…Mr. Cullen…"

"Get out of my sight, or I'll fire you myself, understood?" I said, tapping into my bitch mode.

I'd been nice to Clemons for the past week or so, and I think it was undermining my control over him.

"Yes, ma'am!" he said, running off to the café down the street.

I entered my office with the article in question, and knew Edward was right behind me. He shut the door, no doubt to muffle the sounds of the argument that was soon to come.

"You don't run this place anymore, Miss Swan." He said stiffly, as I opened the shade to the window.

It was too dark in here. I wanted to lighten the mood, because his pigheadedness was suffocating me, and I didn't feel like fighting today.

I knew he was angry with me, for undermining him in front of all his workers, but I didn't care.

I felt like a mother swan, pardon the pun, protecting her young.

I was prepared to be vicious, if I had to. But right now I really didn't want to.

"You shouldn't run this place like you do." I retorted, glaring up at him. "You have every single one of them frightened out of their minds that they'll lose their jobs. Scare tactics don't work, it just creates a hostile environment that definitely isn't conducive to good writing."

"At least I'm trying to get good writing out of them, something you never did."

Ouch. That was pretty low, pretty below the belt there, buddy.

I know I wasn't the best manager, but at least they didn't hate me. But there was some truth in his words, when I ran it things seemed to be counter-productive.

Since he'd taken over, I'd seen improvement in everyone's work.

"At least they respect me." I shot back, stepping up to him and glaring with as much ferocity as I could muster. "At least they're not afraid of me. At least they don't whisper amongst themselves about me, wondering who I'll tear apart next. Nobody likes you, they don't obey you because they like you, they obey you because you're an asshole!"

I was pretty shocked I'd said that, told him to his face that everyone hated him, and thought I saw a little flicker in his eye, of something other than the glare he was giving me.

Was it pain? Did my blunt truth hurt him a little?

At this point, I didn't care. He needed a wakeup call.

In a few minutes I'd feel bad, and think about apologizing, but probably never would.

That pride thing…yeah. I was too prideful.

"If you have a problem with any one of them, take it up with me." I said with a bit more control. "I'm not going to let you attack them."

"Are you still wondering what I saw in this crummy little paper?" he asked, seemingly abandoning the anger and looking at me, amused. In the sunlight, his skin looked paler.

"At this point I really don't care." I snapped, going back to my article…which I was writing on the laptop in my office. He'd gone ahead and gotten the office new computers, and they arrived this morning.

"I saw passion. Even Clemons, in all his awful work, shows passion. I've read some of the best articles from some of the best journalists, and hated them because they lacked passion." He said seriously, taking a copy of Clemons' article, glancing at it, and tossing it back down.

I froze.

Somehow, I'd known that.

I don't know how, but I'd figured it out without really knowing that I had. That's why I wouldn't let him fire anyone, wouldn't let him destroy their resolve.

I sat still, still absorbing his every word.

This shocked me. But in the same light, it didn't.

I had pinned him completely and totally wrong. I don't know why but I still viewed him as that rich snobby horrible man who cared only about money. I knew he was different, but I still couldn't accept it, until now.

Wow, I'm an ass.

"I'm not doing this to help me, I'm probably going to lose more money on this endeavor than I'll gain, I'm doing this to help all of you." He continued. "You have the passion, but lack the talent. You all need to be trained, so to speak, on good journalism. You could all be great journalists, because you have the passion."

"Oh." I said, looking at my hands, and my article on my laptop.

Yep, I'd been completely and totally wrong about this guy.

I was seeing him in a new light, and it made me nervous.

I think I was starting to like this guy. Before, I had dismissed it, but this…this was different.

This was worthy of actually liking him.

Which was awful. He's my boss!

"It's why I wanted you as my assistant, as I turned the paper around. You actually care for your workers. I wanted to fire them all on the spot."

"I don't get it." I mumbled, wide eyed. He sighed, sitting in the chair across from my desk.

We were actually having a civil conversation now. I didn't get it.

We fought constantly.

Now we were speaking?

Probably because he wanted to save his voice.

But…I couldn't help but think he actually wanted to talk to me now, he actually wanted to almost…confide in me.

"Why do you think I've been fighting you, as opposed to just firing you. I've thought about it probably a dozen times."

"Why didn't you then?" I blurted out, on the defensive again. I stood, going to the window, trying to regain my thoughts.

I did this a lot, I noticed. The window was my escape, to a world outside of my troubles. I needed to collect myself. I needed to stop being so irrational…

I couldn't handle an actual conversation with him. I don't know why, but I couldn't do it.

And I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't keep my mouth shut.

By now, I knew I was just being childish, but I didn't care, I had to get it out. I was so enraged, just so wound up that I felt tears brimming in my eyes. I hated him so much, but I was finding myself liking him more and more.

What was happening to me?

"If I'm such a burden to you, to your business…why bother? You can find an assistant you can get along with, some bimbo who will do everything you say—" I trailed off, as my voice started to quiver.

Why were my eyes tearing up? I didn't have anything to cry about. Why was I being so stupid, so foolish?

"That's exactly what I don't want." He said, his voice soft. He'd gone from jackass Edward to civil Edward to nice Edward in the course of five, maybe ten minutes. He stood by me, but I refused to look at him. "I want someone competent."

This was an odd relationship, I knew now.

It was as if he liked me, so that's why he made me his assistant. Putting me as the forbidden fruit, for some reason. And I was realizing more and more that I was developing feelings for him, too.

This was awful. I was getting upset just thinking about it. Why couldn't I find a guy like him who was dateable?

"Bella, you're strong. You have a fire in you that you never see in the corporate world. But you're scattered. You were spreading yourself too thin, and you still are. You can't do it all. You can't be owner and editor and journalist and employees' best friend, you couldn't be bartender and waitress, you can't manage a flower shop, all at once."

"But my debts…" I said, not even thinking. I was staring up into his beautiful green eyes, transfixed by them. "The bills came in…I still don't know how I'm going to pay them off—"

"I spoke to each of those businesses personally." He told me, his eyes full of concern. "Don't worry about your father's debts."

I thought I was going to cry. Why was he being so kind to me? I didn't know exactly what he'd done, but I didn't have to.

The fact was, he cared enough to do it. He saw I was in trouble, and fixed it.

I could feel my eyes watering, as I looked up at him, speechless.

Nobody had ever done something like that for me, ever. Sure, Robb was good to me, and my mother tried to take care of me, but this was different.

This went right to the source.

I didn't say anything, but turned back to the window, staring at the still-snow-covered city. What could I say? 'Thank you' hardly covered it.

"Why would you do that? I thought money was money, or whatever it is you said before." I ended up saying, sounding harsh and ungrateful. I didn't care. I couldn't let him know what I was feeling.

I had so many defenses up, I was afraid that if one fell, they all would.

I didn't want to end up like my father, who let everyone walk all over him.

I didn't want to be that person.

And I knew this. I knew my reasons for being how I was.

I was just too stubborn to let any of it go by the wayside.

"Haven't you figured out by now that I don't care about the money?" he said, smiling down at me. "Financial problems should be the last thing holding you back. Trust me, it gets better. I know."

That smile. It was different than the smirk from before, it was different from anything I'd ever seen.

Maybe he was just too tired. But I think it was something else…

It was a smile…for me?

My heart was going wild, pounding harshly against my chest. He was close, very close. I'd just realized this, as I looked up at him.

So that's what was present in his eyes…I think.

What I would give for him to kiss me, right now.

What? Holy shit I did not just think that.

I turned away, and walked back to my desk, back to my article. I couldn't deal with this kind of tension.

"I'm done, and ready for editing." I said, strictly back to business now. I couldn't let him know that I was fazed by anything that had just happened.

I couldn't let my guard down.

Everything he'd said just now was probably as close to an admission of his feelings as he'd get, and I didn't have the resolve to accept it.

He was my boss.

It was wrong.

Then why was I still thinking about it? Why did I want to grab him by the tie and pull him to me, and kiss him?

Oh my God, Bella, stop! Stop it right now!

I felt like a horny little school girl, you know, when you have a hot student teacher? I felt like that.

Definitely the forbidden fruit thing.

I was going to crack soon, if this kept up.

I snuck a peek at him, as he read my article, his beautiful green eyes focused on the computer screen.

They didn't hold the anger or ferocity they always did. He wasn't determined to do anything right now.

He looked weary, almost peaceful.

"Still too wordy." He said, shaking his head as he finished. "The purpose of newspapers is to dumb down the complex happenings of, say, the political system for the general public. The content is good, though."

I nodded, and took Clemons' article and began making a few more corrections.

"Could you give this to him when he gets back?" I asked, as he made a move to leave.

"Oh, and Bella…" he said, before he opened my door.

Yes, Mr. Beautiful?

"Hmm?"

"Esme's offer still stands. I think she'd really like to see you, Friday night."

There. Hope you liked :-) And I know that didn't clear everything up but he's less of an asshole now…don't worry eventually it'll all be put into perspective