A/N: Hey guys! Grey-Eyed-Blonde here!! This is my own little side story I've been working on in addition to FA, so I'd love it if all my loyal readers would read and review this story too! And I know you're probably thinking, oh god, how many stories with cocky wealthy Edward have we seen... but I swear mine is different! It'll have lots of good plot twists, lots of fun stuff, witty dialogue and what not... I really, really hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I am not Stephanie Meyer. I don't really wish I was either. All things Twilight belong to her.
BPOV
Two weeks later.
I struggled to get into the front door of my office as I juggled my piping hot coffee in one hand, stack of paperwork in another, and a pile full of mail balanced haphazardly on top of said hot coffee.
"Fuckity fuck fuck!" I cursed loudly until I finally managed to insert the key in the hole and then kicked the door open with my shoe. As a gust of wind blew up behind me, the mail went flying and my paperwork fluttered slowly to the ground. At least the coffee remained where it was supposed to.
"Good morning Bella!" my cheery administrative assistant beamed at me. I shot her an annoyed yet pleading look, and in a split second she was by my side organizing the chaotic mess around me and removing my coat.
"Thanks Angela." I took a deep sigh and then gave her the best smile I could fathom, which probably came across as more of a wince than a friendly gesture. She was a wonderful assistant but today wasn't the day for small talk.
"Not a problem. Jeez Bella, I'm always trying to get you to use a proper briefcase instead of carry everything around in your hands," she sat back down at her desk and the phone started ringing off the hook.
"I see we're very busy today Angela, I'm going to get started on the latest case files." I quickly excused myself from our sad looking lobby and slipped into my equally pitiful office.
Before I could even take a seat at my involuntarily vintage office chair, my personal line began ringing. The sharp, discordant ringing of my rotary dial phone stung my ears, sending an instant migraine to my still half-asleep brain.
I glanced at the clock; it wasn't even nine a.m. yet.
"Bella Swan, how can I help you?" I answered groggily into the receiver.
The line went dead before I could inquire as to who was calling. I could already tell this was going to be a long and troublesome day.
I glanced at the nearly sky-high pile of paperwork on my desk and decided to chip away at this burgeoning task. I strategically pulled the first envelope off the top of the pile so as to not disrupt the rest of the pile which would send it flying through the office.
The envelope wasn't sealed or stamped, and it was addressed to "499 Boylston Street," the formal address of the building our humble office occupied. The office was two storeys, with the entire upstairs hosting years of files and documents that had been improperly (and illegally) stored in cardboard boxes. Last years' funding didn't cover a proper filing cabinet and our previous one had been the target of arson.
Since we mainly dealt with social justice cases, our office was constantly the target of robberies and fires by angry abusive husbands who wanted to regain custody of their children after years of abusing them, or similar such cases. I was actually afraid that another fire to our building would be the death of it, since last time our funding and insurance barely covered the costs to repair the building. Even so we had to do it on an extremely tight budget; hence the burnt walls. The stains from the fire rescue's water hose managed to turn our already faded grey walls into a lovely patchy brown pattern.
"To the occupants of 499 Boylston Street," the letter began. I wondered who the hell composed a letter to us without even bothering to look up the name of said "occupants" since it stated right on the front of our building: Social Justice Initiatives LLP.
The stationary used was of a high quality and I knew right then and there I didn't want any of their business. Nonetheless I had a legal obligation to read all mail addressed to the firm, and although the thought of lighting the letter ablaze and blaming it on arson was very appealing, I proceeded to read it.
"I have, on several attempts, requested your cooperation in settling a deal on the sale of your building," it stated.
Ha! I wasn't aware our building was for sale. I scooted over to my retro computer that prevailed in the dinosaur era and typed out a letter of my own.
"Dear Fellow Occupant," I addressed it, since the identity of this comedian hadn't yet been revealed. "I was not aware of the real estate listing of the building 499 Boylston Street." This was going to be fun.
I turned back to the letter on my desk and continued on, rubbing my hands together in anticipation of the witty rhetoric I could respond with. I hadn't had this much fun composing a legal letter since my creative writing class on legal rhetoric during college.
"It was my initial intent to come to an agreement on the price of said building, as I have on numerous occasions offered you the following figures: $500,000; $750,000; $1,000,000; $1,500,000." I paused. I didn't need to think twice about who composed this ludicrous letter. I scanned my eyes to the bottom of the page where the typeface had ended and it was replaced with elegant handwriting: "Regretfully yours, Edward Cullen."
Regretfully yours?
I quickly brought my eyes back up to the beginning of the letter and quickly scanned over the part I had already read, bringing myself to the next paragraph.
"After having my realtor appraise the building, the suggested retail value was set at $100,000. Since you have previously ignored my very generous offers, implying failure to comply, I have taken the liberty of informing the state of Massachusetts of the fire hazard your building poses to my office. Therefore I regret to inform you that you will be evicted in thirty days without compensation. Regretfully yours, Edward Cullen."
Regretfully yours my ass.
"Ange," I spoke into the intercom, "Set up a lunch date with Edward Cullen."
"Right away Bella," she replied dutifully. Angela was an incredibly intelligent girl who currently attended Harvard Law and was working in my office as part of her pro-bono commitment to society, in part for her law school requirements but primarily out of the good of her heart. She was only required to complete fifty hours but had been here for the past two years in the hopes of landing a position once she graduated from her program this year. We, of course, would hire her without even looking at a resume, because first off, we had more work than we could ever handle, but more importantly because she was a wonderful person who would bring a lot to the firm. Although I wouldn't exactly say our small office constituted a 'firm' -- it was more like a shared space between two non-profit lawyers.
I attended Harvard for my first year of law but quickly transferred to Boston College Law in hopes of avoiding the likes of the pretentious pricks that were in my 1L classes. It was in attending Harvard Law that I learned to hate people like Edward Cullen -- people who were instantly promoted to the higher echelons of their respective careers solely because of their parents' position in society.
I managed to excel in my law school, graduating top of the class and quickly found a position working under J. Jenks, the previous head of our firm who was now unfortunately in prison because of some illegal dealings. Ben Cheney and I managed to uphold the non-profit business, and with years of hard work we eventually earned a reputation for having the highest quality pro-bono legal services in the state. Ben specialized in services for those from lower socio-economic groups whereas I focused on women's and children's rights, who were also incidentally from lower socio-economic groups.
On my spare time I taught two yoga classes a week on 'Yoga for Runners' -- something I did at Rosalie's Pilates centre which she was less than apt at because of her hardcore, ball-busting approach to teaching. Somehow I don't think statements such as "you don't become a GQ cover girl by doing sorry ass sun salutations like that!" would fly too well amongst yogis. I was a little more serene in my method so I managed to build up a large enough client base that Rose added on a separate little 'Zen Room' for my own yoga teachings and meditation classes. Sadly I earned more at my part-time yoga teaching job than my full-time career, but that didn't really matter since money wasn't important to me.
Alice gave me a great deal on rent because my sad excuse for a salary would barely cover the hydro bills. In exchange for her generosity, all I was expected to do was join her on all of her shopping excursions and endure makeovers whenever she decided I was in need of a "new look." I was like her life-size Barbie doll, but less pretty. Or, as Alice deemed, "less cooperative."
I was already getting nervous for my upcoming lunch with Edward Cullen, and I wondered what the best way to attack the situation would be. To bombard him with legal terms he was unaware of would perhaps slightly dissuade him, such as if I made it seem like he was in the wrong and really crossing the line in trying to cross us. Although that plan was quickly crushed when I realized he probably had a whole slew of top-notch lawyers working for him in his office, who would only be so willing to rebut with harsh letters and employ even greater intimidation tactics.
I considered consulting Ben on the matter, but he already made it clear that he was more than willing to relocate if need be because he was sick of his leaky ceiling and constant draft caused by the poorly insulated walls. With the amount that Cullen was offering, we could afford to rent prime office space and perhaps even expand our clientele by getting a couple more lawyers on our team.
I thought that with Edward Cullen the best tactic might be to target his weakness, which was, unfortunately, beautiful women. If I spiffed up my appearance a bit he might feel a little remorse for the poor but somewhat cute lawyer next door and drop the whole eviction business.
I trudged over to the bathroom mirror and examined my appearance. I wasn't entirely unfortunate looking today; all I needed was some more mascara, perhaps a nicer shirt, maybe a pair of heels...
I grabbed my cell phone off my desk and quickly dialled Alice's number. On the second ring she picked up.
"Bella! What's up? How are you feeling? How's your ankle??" Fuck. I was so distracted by all the work I needed catching up on I'd forgotten about that ugly-as-sin tensor bandage Dr. Cullen replaced my splint with the other day.
"I'm fine, don't worry about that, there's more pressing issues at hand," I said, perhaps too abruptly. "I need you here in ten minutes, bring props, think sexy business casual," I explained. She'd know exactly what to do with that.
Right on time, Alice waltzed into my office, carrying with her a variety of outfits. I told her I had a hot lunch date because had she known I was meeting her brother to try and manipulate him out of the asshole eviction he arranged, she'd become too focused on the minor details and feel pressure to pick sides. She didn't need to be too in the know with this matter.
We settled on a knee-length black pencil skirt with bare legs and we ditched the tensor bandage. To elongate my legs she brought a painful looking pair of four-inch Christian Louboutin heels, but I wasn't about to complain because I was desperate at this point. I was even willing to do fishnets but we decided it wasn't in good taste to wear those in the middle of the day, nor were they 'business casual' unless your business happened to be prostitution. We paired the skirt with a tight fitting black jacket, leaving the perfect amount of buttons undone to reveal a bit of skin, but conservative enough to allow room for the imagination to run wild. She did her wonders with my makeup so that I was perfectly polished and chic, then she straightened my hair and ran a shine serum though it to finish off the look.
"Are you sure I shouldn't tie my hair back?" I pondered, wondering if I was looking a little too intentionally sexy.
"Absolutely not," Alice decided. "Men love it when women wear their hair down, and besides, the rest of your look is so polished we needed to add a bit of seduction to finish him off."
Finish him off was right. Hopefully I'd be able to achieve the desired results without incident caused by my still impaired ankle. Visions of me tripping over my own heels and flying into the waiter causing him to drop a Caesar salad on my head flooded my mind, but I quickly shook those negative images out of my head. I needed to think positive.
I graciously thanked Alice for her assistance but knew she was only too willing to do it for me every day if needed. Since her house showings were at random intervals throughout the day, she had a lot of free time, and therefore a lot of pent-up energy waiting to be dispelled. She was always trying to get me to skip work, but I decided this was perhaps the next best thing for her.
At twelve o'clock sharp I headed over to Edward Cullen's colossally showy office, holding my head up high and keeping my focus on my footsteps so I didn't trip and land on my face. Apparently Angela was only able to get through to his secretary's secretary so the details of our lunch were of limited knowledge to him, as in, he could have been meeting with the Prime Minister of Hong Kong for all he knew. This luckily worked in my favour because I would catch him off guard, which hopefully meant he wouldn't be up to par on the status of the eviction and I could accuse him of a slip-up of sorts.
I took the elevator up to the top floor of the building and stepped out into the most expensive looking office I'd ever seen. I cautiously walked forward to the large front desk where an attractive secretary did a quick once-over of me and raised her eyebrow rudely.
"And you are?"
"I'm Mr. Cullen's twelve o'clock," I replied firmly, trying not to get nervous from the stunning strawberry blonde's intimidating sneer.
"You're late," she snapped.
I peered at the large gold plated clock on the wall behind her; it was 12:05.
"You were fortunate enough to get a meeting with Mr. Cullen today at all, and when someone books an appointment with him he expects that they arrive fifteen minutes early. So I don't care what the clock behind my head reads – you're twenty minutes late. And you're wasting his time," she picked up the telephone receiver and then glared at me. "Have a seat."
Before I could even sit down in one of the sleek leather chairs, the bitchy blonde piped up again. "Mr. Cullen will see you now." She didn't even bother looking up from her computer this time.
I walked in through the heavy wooden doors to see the largest office I'd ever stepped in, with a magnificent view of the harbour. Edward was in the middle of a heated phone call on his Bluetooth headset and had his hands firmly pressed against the window. The clicking of my heels as I entered the room was loud enough that he'd have easily heard me but he didn't even bother to acknowledge my presence.
"I don't care what you've got to say, it's all irrelevant. You're throwing wild accusations at me and I won't have any of it!" he shouted into his headset. "Goddamnit, this is exactly why I don't get into personal relationships with my employees, because you all think you're fucking special. No, I have to go. I have an appointment. Don't call me again until you've got something worth my time." He turned around, still without taking notice of me, and threw the headset on his desk. He loosened his tie aggressively.
"Sorry about that," he shuffled some papers around on his desk then took a seat. "Now, how can I help you?"
His eyes finally met mine, but he showed no sign recognition. He ran his fingers through his dishevelled mop of hair and clapped his hands together. "You're wasting my time here, miss. I have very important clients to speak to," he said impatiently.
Right. Sexy, confident, intelligent. Coherent.
"Edward Cullen, I'm Bella Swan..." I began, hoping he'd recognize me and be a little friendlier.
"Stating your reason for scheduling an appointment with me would probably be more relevant than introducing yourself. My secretary Tanya takes care of all those formalities."
Did he seriously not remember who I was?
"You saved my life the other day..." I prompted, hoping he'd suddenly feel silly for not being friendlier to me.
"Miss Swan, I'm not an idiot. I recall meeting you. What I don't recall, however, is inviting you over to my office to exchange pleasantries."
Wow. What a dick.
I held up his snarky letter and passed it to him. "I believe you wrote this?"
He quickly scanned it over and shook his head in disbelief. "Yep, it says so right there," he pointed to the paper, "signed, Edward Cullen." He was being utterly sarcastic and rude. I couldn't believe someone managed to get so far in life by having such an unsavoury character. He slapped the paper down on his desk and folded his hands in front of him.
"Well? What is the meaning of this? I'm trying to operate a business next door and I receive threatening letters from you telling me you've managed to evict me. On what grounds?!" I was becoming increasingly heated by the moment. "You don't even own the building!"
"Ah, believe it or not, it states that in the letter," he replied dryly. He began searching for something on his computer, making it very clear that his end of the meeting was coming to a close. "That shack you call an office building keeps bursting into flames and is wearing the side of my building. Plus, it's an eyesore. I wouldn't be surprised if it's deterring potential customers of mine. Besides, your tenant, Mr. Jenks, is incarcerated, thus making it property of the state of Massachusetts." He didn't even bother to look at me. Instead he focused so intently on his computer screen you'd have thought he was reading his own will and testament.
"Yes, well, since you're not even giving me the time of day..." I began, preparing a huge elaborate speech on common courtesy.
"Oh? The time of day?" he looked me straight in the eye as he revelled in the challenge. I noticed his topaz eyes suddenly spark with anticipation. "I'll certainly give you the time of day Miss Swan, but it just so happens that you've paraded in here deciding to rehearse the contents of a letter that I incidentally wrote. Now I'm nearly certain you can read, though I'm having my reservations about that assumption, so aside from that, would could possibly be the purpose of this exercise?"
"The purpose, Mr. Cullen," I stood up out of the chair and pointed my finger firmly on his desk; "Is to warn you that you will not win. We will definitely not settle, and we're taking this to court."
He furrowed his brow as he read something on his laptop screen and then looked back at me. "Well I hope you have a good lawyer, although that might be hard in this town seeing as all the good lawyers work for me..." he trailed off, not really caring about our discussion at all.
"Actually as a matter of fact, I am a lawyer," I replied harshly.
He now looked at me in complete disbelief. He was intentionally exaggerating his reaction, which really pissed me off. "Imagine that! I didn't realize they allowed physically and unmistakably mentally incapacitated individuals to pass the bar," he now grinned cockily at me and out of pure frustration I let out a loud gah!
"Don't let the door hit you on the way out," he stood out of his chair and swiftly began walking, adjusting his tie as he made long strides for the door. Before he could pass by me however, I stood in front of him with my hands on my waist. He raised his eyebrow at me as if to challenge me, and easily deked to the other side of me. I had to think quickly, so I placed my hands on his chest, his pecs now tightening instinctively. If he wasn't such a dickhead I'd have found that pretty damn sexy.
I was now so close to him I could feel his warm breath on my face, even though I was almost a foot shorter than him. I was instantly grateful of my four-inch Louboutins. "Edward Cullen, you will not humiliate me by knocking down my building! I've worked hard on making my business, and I'll be damned if some cocky asshole like you will take it from me!!"
He took a large step away from me and began messaging someone on his BlackBerry. "Miss Swan, if you are so adamant on fighting for this useless cause, I recommend you Google 'professional misconduct,' since it appears your legal skills are less than adequate. I'm charging you with professional misconduct, as a neighbouring professional, on the basis of clause C; that being failure to act to correct, or report, a situation that the neighbouring practitioner believes may endanger the safety or the welfare of the public."
I casually moved closer to him and peered over his BlackBerry to see if he was reading something his lawyer sent him, but he was making lunch reservations at Chez Louis.
Well, Edward Cullen, if you want to throw all these fancy legal terms my way, prepare to meet your match.
"Then you, Mr. Cullen, should probably familiarize yourself with the legal term 'harassment;' the act of engaging in a course of vexatious comments or conduct that is known or ought reasonably to be known as unwelcome and that might reasonably be regarded as interfering in a professional relationship."
Professional relationship my ass.
He began chuckling to himself, clearly more than amused with my sudden spark of fire, which gave me hope he'd changed his mind. "Have a nice day Miss Swan. I'd suggest getting your stuff out in thirty days or all your little case files will be destroyed as well as your building."
"Oh but I'm not done Mr. Cullen. I wanted to also refresh your memory -- since you seem more than familiar with legal discourse -- on the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, Article 17, Subsection 2; no one shall be arbitrarily deprived of his or her property."
In. Your. Face.
"Miss Swan, your pathetic defences are so terribly flawed I don't even consider you a worthy adversary, but seeing as I still have five minutes until I have to meet Dr. Sweet Cheeks for lunch, I might as well go along with your futile attempts at playing lawyer. You say no one shall be arbitrarily deprived of his or her property – the keyword being arbitrarily." I took a deep breath and prepared myself for rebuttal. "So in order to avoid violating the sixth amendment of the United States Constitution and Bill of Rights," he continued, "I will send notice of your accusations well in advance so you have time to consider your next course of action. My attorney, Mr. McCarty, as in Harvard Law graduate and Senator McCarty's son, is working on a list of building code violations he will be faxing you tomorrow morning. Until then," he nodded curtly and made his way out the door, letting it slam in my face.