Hey guys! I'm glad you liked the first chapter! So far, this story has two reviews while the other has five. Together that's seven lol. Love the reviews! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter too, because I sure do!! I love the next one even more though! haha.

Thanks lots to R4L's beta, BellaTonks, for betaing our collabo and thanks to my bestestestest friend, Reader4Lyfe, for being such an awemazastic friend!!!!! (It's awesome, amazing, and fantastic put together hehe. Forgot to mention that in the first chapter.) Enjoy!!

And don't forget to review!!

Disclaimer: "I own everything but R4L and LSR's minds, characters, and plot!!! Hope you enjoy the chapter so much that you can't wait until the next chapter!!" S.M.

Chapter Two

BPOV

"What the hell do you mean, I have to go to Paris?!"

"Ms. Swan, could you please not be so loud? I do not think it is wise, what with your son right out—"

"Don't talk to me about my son. He's the reason I'm in your office, yelling in your fucking face! Why do I have to go to Paris?! I have a son to care for!" I was beyond hysterical by this point.

As soon as Davidson popped out that ridiculous statement I snapped my phone shut, packed everything up Damien and I had out, half ran back to the house, jumped in the car and drove to the office. Damien squirmed in his car seat because Snow wasn't with him (Snow was in the front seat) and I had to stop because he started crying.

I gave him a bottle, tucked Snow in his arms and we were well on our way. I hastily unbuckled him, grabbed the bag we'd brought and took the elevator to the right floor. Davidson knew there was a storm coming. He had to because there was no way in hell he'd call me and except a happy greeting after telling me I have to fly across the world.

Okay, so maybe that was an exaggerated hyperbole but whatever!

Like I said before, boss or no boss, I'm a force to be reckoned with.

I left Damien with Davidson's secretary right outside the room I was currently raging in. I knew I was loud but I couldn't help it! I was angry.

"Ms. Swan, please listen. A&M asked for you specifically. He called me just this morning and requested that you go as a representative for this company. But—"

"But?! There's a 'but'?" I asked frantically. I felt like pulling my hair out.

Davidson sighed. He looked disheveled, nervous and scared shitless. If I wasn't so angry I would've laughed.

"He says that the process could take anywhere between a week to a year depending on the company's priorities, wants, needs, etc."

"A year?! I can't be away from my son for that long. He only has me and I'd rather shove myself under a bus than leave him for a year under business circumstances!"

"But—"

I stopped my pacing. I wasn't aware I was even doing it upon realizing something he'd said a few times now.

"You said A&M asked for me specifically?"

Davidson nodded.

"Why?"

"Because, and I quote, 'She is the best we've had in years. I know she can get this done and we need this if we want to go international. She's got more talent than half the dimwitted assholes who already work in my building. And she's the only one that can speak fluent French and Italian without sounding like an idiot.' As I said, his words not mine."

Wow, a special recommendation from A&M himself! Hadn't expected that one, I guess those extra language classes in college do come in handy. But there was still one problem.

"But what about my son, I'm not leaving him no matter what A&M says. I can't. My hours are already tiring as it is."

"Yes, we have a solution to that." Davidson said as matter-of-factly.

I cocked an eyebrow.

"Do you, now?"

"A&M knows about your son, as I've told him that, and he suggested a few things." He paused.

"Do tell." I said dryly.

"He has accommodations set for you, should you accept. He also has a person that is well qualified to take care of Damien while you are away. She will come to you and stay until you come back. Your hours won't be anything horrendous, most likely just a few hours a day. And he also offered a position as CEO of this branch of A&M and the merger, should it be successful."

My brows had to be in my hairline by now. A&M had really planned this out.

"And if I should decline?"

"You'll still keep the same job you have here, just less pay."

"How much less?"

"Half."

I almost cringed.

If he cut my pay in half, we'd have to move from a house to an apartment and sell the furniture. I'd be able to make ends meet but it'd be hard. And then I wouldn't have enough to pay for a babysitter…

I sighed.

"What if I do this and the merger doesn't happen? What then?"

"You'll still get the CEO position and your pay would be increased a bit but it wouldn't be as much as it would if the merger worked. If it does work, honestly, you could be a multi-millionaire."

"Wow," I breathed.

Davidson nodded.

I sat on the mahogany couch across from his Maplewood desk.

If I take this merger, I'd be rich and Damien wouldn't have to have me worried as much as it would have if they didn't come up with this idea. He'd be safe and I wouldn't have to leave him for an unknown period of time. But if I didn't, life would be hell. It's hard living in Miami if you don't have the money. It's hard living anywhere if you don't have the money, but some places more than others.

I understand why he'd cut my pay, too, if I declined. It was just the simple reason of declining. He'd think he wasn't good enough and make your life hell if you refused him. You'd call it down and dirty, he'd call it 'good business'.

So…

What the hell?

"When does he want me to leave?" I said dully.

Davidson's eyes brightened a bit and he let out what sounded like a breath of relief. I glared at him and he sucked in a harsh breath. He searched his desk for some papers and when he finally found them he straightened up his slouched posture and pushed his black glasses up his straight nose.

"According to a fax I received from him this morning, ASAP, but in your case he hopes you'll be ready by Friday." He scooted back in his leather chair, opened a drawer in front of him, and pulled out some more slips of paper then scooted back up again, closing the drawer with his stomach.

The papers looked more like brochures to me. I couldn't really see them clearly as his hands were blocking most of the view.

"Ah, the flight from Miami Dade Airport to Paris International, using Lufthansa Airlines, departure time seven p.m. on Friday, June 10th. First class and of course there's a ticket for Damien."

First class, eh?

Hm.

"Do I have to come in this week then?"

Davidson shook his head.

Well that was good.

"Okay, what do I need?"

For the next hour Davidson explained what I was going to be doing, which mainly were conferences that talked about the merging process and benefits for both companies. He printed out an itinerary that was emailed to him during the meeting we'd had last night.

It was ten pages long! I knew I was in for it, then. It was a lot of work but I knew I could get through it. Most of the stuff I already knew, but it went in a certain order that I'd never seen before so I had to get that down pack. I was to talk about certain things on certain days and not mention this or that or say something that was of particular interest to said merging company.

A lot of work indeed.

We talked and organized things until I heard a squeal and then crying coming from Davidson's secretary's office.

I jumped up and almost sprinted into the door trying to get out. I burst through the door to find Damien sitting in the middle of the carpeted, but hard floor, crying his little eyes out. His hands were buried in his eyes and the crying seemed to have gotten louder. I didn't see any injuries on him as I walked toward him to pick him up, that is until he moved his hands to reach out to me.

I saw a cut about as long as my pinky going down the side of his head. It was bleeding and there was blood already smeared on on e of his hands that was rubbing his face, I searched the minuscule room for the bag I'd brought and when I found it, I rushed toward it. I pulled out a few wipes and a shirt.

I scooped the still crying baby into my arms, wiped his cut and covered it with the shirt. Damien flinched away from the wipes, as they stung, and continued crying.

I cradled him in such a way where I could hold him up and hold the shirt to his head with one hand and reach into the bag with the other, in search of his bottle. After rummaging around for several long seconds I finally found one that was mostly full.

I yanked the cap off with my teeth and gave him the juice. Damien quieted almost immediately, the tears stopped streaming down his now red face and his eyes turned a little glazed as he focused on drinking the juice.

I sighed, glad that he'd stopped crying. I hated when he did, scares me to death.

Davidson came in a few seconds later with a band aid that looked long enough to cover the whole scratch. I grabbed more wipes from the bag and carefully pulled the shirt off his head. It had stopped bleeding, which was a good thing, so I wiped it once more for good measure, holding his head because he flinched away and gently put the band aid on.

I kissed it and sighed again.

"At least he won't need stitches. The cut wasn't deep, but it will probably leave a faint scar, hardly noticeable with all that hair he has."

"How do you know?" I eyed him.

He shrugged. "My old man's a doctor, well, retired doctor, actually, taught me a few things before I got into the advertising business."

"Oh."

I sighed again. I bounced Damien lightly on my knee as he drank from his bottle and absentmindedly pulled on my hair. I looked around the room and finally took it in. Damien's few toys were scattered about the floor. Snow was face down on the floor under the secretary's desk. I moved my eyes up to the top of the desk.

Where the hell was the secretary?

"Davidson, where's Brown?" I hated that secretary. Sharon Brown. She always had a rude attitude toward me. She never changed her sour demeanor whenever my son was here and I hated that he had to be exposed to that type of behavior so young.

"Um…I don't know…"

"Well, I know Damien didn't do this to himself. He's too smart for that."

"Um…"

Then a black head appeared on the other side of the blinds that covered the door. The secretary, Brown, pushed the door open with her back as her hands were full with paper towels, a bottle of Alcohol and some band aids. Brown looked up and jumped.

"Oh," she said.

My eyes narrowed.

"Where were you while my son was crying and bleeding?" My voice was deadly calm and I put emphasis on the last to let her know I wasn't too happy.

"Um…uh…I-I was getting s-something to clean him up with." She stuttered. Brown was flustered and she looked almost terrified.

I smirked. She should be.

"If a child is hurt, you don't run to get help. You stay and help the child in any way you can. But, of course you wouldn't know that since you decide to run around the office like a mouse sniffing for food." I heard her gasp. I looked at her face. She was scowling at me, her eyes blazing.

"What happened?" I asked again, my voice was ice cold.

Brown shivered visibly then answered with defiance.

"Your adolescent child tried to climb up the side of my chair. I tried to get him to stop and go back to playing with his little toys and whatnot but he's brain dead and didn't listen. So he slipped and scratched his head on the corner of my desk, then rolled to the middle of the floor. He blinked, looked at me, squealed, and then the waterworks started. I left to get him something to—"

I interrupted her, not wanting to hear her obnoxious voice anymore. I was hard pressed trying to keep my anger under control.

"Don't you ever call my son an adolescent, ever, understood? He's only two years old! He doesn't know any better. And if you call him brain dead one more time, I will not be responsible for what happens to your face." My voice was deadly.

Brown's face paled and her hands shook.

I was suddenly grateful that Damien had fallen asleep, his head resting in the crook of my neck. He didn't need to see me pissed off. To be honest, it wasn't a pretty sight at all.

"You're fired."

I jumped at Davidson's voice. I'd forgotten he was even in the room. I looked up at him. He was leaning a little over me, gazing at Damien sleeping. After a moment, his head whipped around and he stared Brown down.

"I said you're fired. Why are you still standing there?" His voice was almost as cold as mine had been.

Brown's head shook violently.

"You can't do—" She started.

"Oh, yes I can. You've been nothing but rude and careless in the last six months and frankly I'm tired of it. You treat Ms. Swan like trash and she has done more in a week than you could in five years. You are done."

"But—"

"Leave." His voice held the seal of finality.

Brown was fuming. She huffed, her face turning a dark red color then stormed out of the office. The door slammed behind her, the blinds shaking.

Damien made that funny gurgling noise again and turned his head on the other direction, still sleeping.

"Are you really sick of her?" I asked him after a few minutes.

"Hell, yes. She's such a bitch, pardon my language. I only hired her because her resume looked promising. She had a great interview too, but I guess it was a sham. I kept her this long because A&M wouldn't let me fire her until she did something truly…wrong. So, with that said, I was waiting and right now seemed a good a time as any."

I smiled at him for the first time today.

"Thanks."

"Hmm," he smiled.

I shifted Damien in my arms to lay him on the couch.

"I'm really sorry about calling you on your day off. I know you don't get much time to yourself these days, but A&M wouldn't leave it alone. Business is business, you know?" Davidson said when we were back in his office.

"I'm sorry for going off on you, too. It's been really stressful these days. With you being my boss, I would've thought you were going to fire me for all the words that were pouring out of my mouth."

We chuckled.

"No, I couldn't have done that. You are too good to be fired. In truth, you should be over me, but I guess A&M had other plans." I knew he was saying that out of the goodness of his heart. He was a nice man, good to work with but sometimes easily intimidated.

"I guess."

Davidson got a few papers together and pulled out a manila folder from a cabinet drawer from behind him. He put them all in and handed the folder to me.

"Everything's in there; the tickets, the itinerary, office numbers, etc. Call me if you need anything."

"Thanks."

"No, thank you."

I nodded at him.

"Good luck." He said as I left his office.

Damien was still sleeping. I packed up his toys and bottle. I picked him up gently and placed Snow under the arm that curled around my neck.

I stopped at a McDonald's on the way home since I didn't feel like cooking. Damien woke up at the smell of it and started giggling and squealing.

"Didn't you have a nice nap, baby boy?" I looked at him in the rearview and he was as cheesy as always.

"Hunggy! Hunggy!" He chanted.

"Alright, alright," I laughed.

We were home then. Damien, eager as always to eat, decided he wanted to walk up the drive to the door. I grabbed his bag and the food; he had Snow, and followed him to the door. He didn't fall at all or wobble and that made me proud.

We ate in the kitchen. Damien had a ball trying to eat his French fries after I broke them up into smaller pieces so he wouldn't choke. It was amusing watching him eat. It was hard trying to eat my burger and not laugh at the same time.

It was soon eight o'clock. I took Damien upstairs to his room, changed his clothes, and tucked him in his crib. He had a tiring day so I knew he was going to fall asleep easily and quickly. I turned the baby monitor on in his room and smiled at Damien, who was already starting to fall asleep. I went to my room and changed into a wife beater and Joe Boxer bottoms. I hooked the other monitor to my pants and went downstairs.

I had picked up some boxes on the way home so instead of sleeping I started packing.

EPOV

I sat. And sat…and sat…

I stared. And stared...and stared…

It was right there, right in front of me. Right fucking there!

It was what I was waiting for, hoping for, longing for.

And yet…

I couldn't open it.

I couldn't touch it.

I saw it and dropped it on the floor. I sat on the edge of my bed, my head i n my hands. The moonlight streaming in from my balcony glinted off the white envelope.

The black letters glared at me. I could see them whether or not my eyes were closed.

It was so dark in my room … so dark, except for the moon as always.

I felt like crying again. Crying like I had last night. It wasn't the first time and I definitely knew it wouldn't be the last. My hands tightened in my hair, pulled at it, stinging my scalp. I knew it hurt, but I couldn't really feel it. I let out a grunt, almost sounding like an animal in pain. Her letter glared at me. Her elegant, as always, handwriting screamed for me to open it.

Open me!

Open me!

Open me, damn it!

Why now? Why did she decide to come back now? She left me. I knew she was hurting. I knew the kind of pain she had. Hell, I had the same pain!

But she left me.

She didn't have to. We could've mourned together. We could've gotten through the pain together. I didn't want to do this alone but I had to. And I did.

But she still left me.

And I wanted to know why.

Five fucking years.

No contact whatsoever.

And she finally comes back.

I wanted to be angry at her. I wanted to rip the letter up and pretend I'd never seen it. I wanted to go to sleep and not have dreams about her, dreams that had about as much worry in them as I had when I was awake. I want to actually sleep without crying.

But I couldn't.

I loved her too much.

So I picked the letter up off the floor and walked to the balcony. As usual the light breeze blew through my hair. It raised goose bumps on my naked chest and arms. I thought time had stopped while I sat on my bed pondering whether or not I should open my mother's letter. But it didn't. People were still walking the cobbled streets. Cars still drove around and even in the late hour bright lights still shown. I breathed deeply. My hands shook as I turned the envelope over and tore the flap open. I pulled the letter out and read by moonlight.

My son,

I have finally grown the nerve to contact you after five years. I can't tell you how sorry I am for not talking to you sooner. I had some things that I needed to do before I could face you. Five years is a long time to be gone, I know. I know you must hate me for leaving you, especially when you needed me the most but I had to deal with what happened on my own. I also know that you must have a lot of questions for me and I'll answer a few in this letter. But I won't tell you what I've been up to, yet. That is for another time and I will enjoy divulging that information in person.

Currently, I am in Venice, Italy. I've been living here for the past three years. You will find out why soon. But don't come looking for me. I know you, so don't try anything. I have to tell you that I am so proud of you. I have bought and listened to all the music you've made and they warm my heart. I just knew you'd do something great. Edward told me you were planning something. I didn't know what it was and even now I still don't. Your record label didn't help much. It was just your name. I would've looked it up but I don't get out much and I have no computer.

I have received all the letters you've sent me and again I can't apologize enough for not speaking to you. But France? Paris, France? I never took you for one that would move to another country. You seemed more like a home bound child, but I guess you couldn't stay in the house either…well, there I go rambling again. Any who, I shall see you soon and don't hesitate to write me back if you refuse my presence or just want to let me know you received my letter. I won't hold it against you.

All my love, forever and always,

Your mother, Elizabeth Masen

I was in tears before I even finished. I laughed when she said she was rambling. I gasped when she said she was in Venice. The tears came harder w hen she said she listened to my work.

It was like she read my mind with the first few words. My mother always knew what to say. She could always cheer you up, no matter what happened. And she was right. She did leave me when I needed her the most. I'm not sure how long it would take me to forgive her for that but I knew I would…with time.

I looked up at the sky and thanked God for giving me my mother back, somewhat. I found a sheet of paper and wrote 'I love you, Mom' in big letters, signed it, folded it, put it in an envelope and sealed it. I wrote the address and whatnot on it and sat it next to my clock so that in the morning I wouldn't forget to mail it. She'd know what I meant when she got it.

Tonight I cried for a different reason when I went to bed. Instead of pain, I cried for pleasure. Instead of grief, I cried for joy.

I was getting my mother back.

I seem to be doing a lot of crying. I've cried more times in the past five years than in my whole life. It seems like a female thing to do but I could care less. I may be a man but I have emotions and crying was the only way I felt I could get rid of some of the pain. Drowning myself in my music only seemed to numb me from the pain. Crying let me get away from it for a little while.

But still I wanted a cure. I wanted to feel. I wanted to feel something besides the pain and the numbness and the slight hollowness. I wanted to enjoy life and as successful as it was I should've been already. But you can't enjoy something if you lack the emotions to do so.

Sunday was my day off. I was surely put out because I was so eager to mail my letter to mother that when I realized the post office was closed and there wasn't a mailbox within walking distance, my mood was terribly dark.

I would've driven to one but my car was in the shop. Someone crashed into me from behind one day while on the highway. They were speeding and not paying attention. Of course they were paying for all the damage…all three thousand Euros of it too.

"Edward, are you so bored that you decided to hang out in here?"

I groaned.

I was sitting on the bench in the front lobby of my building. Mrs. Long was on a bathroom run. I was keeping her company for a while and she seemed to lighten my dark mood.

But this was too much.

"Victoria," I said. My voice was flat.

She came towards me from the elevator. Her red stiletto clad feet clicked against the stone floor. She had the shortest of mini jean skirts on. If I bent down a little at the right time I'd be able to see what kind of underwear she was wearing—if she was wearing any—and then go on about my business like I didn't see anything.

She had a piece of red cloth going across her boisterous chest that I guess she considered a shirt. The diamond belly button ring she had glinted off the sun and splayed rainbow colors across the floor. Her fiery red hair was curly and fell down her back.

In truth, any man in Paris would gladly drop their pants at the sight of her. But me, I hardly gave her a second look. It screamed disgusting to me. She'd been living in this building a year before I came. She fed off her father's money, she being the daughter of one of the most popular men in the car company business in Europe.

Victoria's been trying to get in my pants for five years. I've considered moving out but this was the closest place to my shop within walking distance and it had the best view.

"Out here all by yourself?" Her voice was like shattering glass even with the French accent.

It hurt my ears sometimes. Okay, all the time.

"I was actually keeping Mrs. Long company, but she went on a bathroom run." I tried to keep my voice as polite as possible.

"That old hag? Pssh. Why don't you keep me company? I'm sure it'd be a lot more fun." Victoria sat herself practically in my lap. Her hands ran up my chest, over my button-up. She slipped two fingers in a hole between two of them. She muttered a few disgusting words in French that made me feel dirty. I gripped her hands as gently as I could since she decidedly pissed me off.

"How about no, I don't want to go anywhere with you and I would appreciate it if you didn't call Mrs. Long those foul names."

I pushed her away from me as Mrs. Long came out of a side door behind the desk.

"Hmm, you have a little anger in you. Qui est si chaud." I cringed as she blew a kiss at me and sauntered off towards the entrance. Her hips shaking in a way that was supposed to be seductive. I shuddered then rolled my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall behind me. She was another reason I wasn't in the building a lot.

"Merci, Edward, cher." Mrs. Long said, her French coming out instead of English.

"For what?"

"Defending me. Sometimes I wonder what her father did to her as a child." She shook her head.

I smiled.

"No problem, Mrs. Long. I don't like her. She disgusts me."

Mrs. Long laughed.

"Edward, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Berta? It makes me feel old."

I laughed, then.

Considering the fact that she was old is what made her statement even funnier. But I'm pretty sure Mr. Long made her feel as young as she wanted to be if you catch my drift.

"How's Mr. Long, Berta?" I asked when I sobered up.

"Oh, he's fine. Still moving like a train if you ask me, but you didn't." She laughed again. "He's working on his golfing skills. I don't know why so don't ask." She knew I was about to ask.

"Hmm," was all I said.

"You know, you're getting a new neighbor." She said after some silence.

"Really?" I looked at her.

"Oui, a lady from, ah, one of those states in the Americas. She works for some major company, I don't know. I received the papers about it yesterday. I'm having Herbert help her move in and whatnot." So Mr. Long was going to help. He did maintenance in the building, kept it going. Of course he had to because he and his wife owned the building. It was their job. I haven't seen him in a while, though.

"When?"

"Oh, sometime this upcoming weekend, I believe. You'll have to ask Herbert. He's checking the apartment, you know, to make sure everything's in order. He should know the exact date."

Another tenant, eh, she's probably either like Victoria only with a job or too stuck up to pull the stick out of her ass to care about anything else but herself.

I hung out with Berta the rest of the day. I left only once to go to the pastry shop to get us something to eat. We talked, had a few laughs and relaxed. It was much needed and I enjoyed myself immensely. I didn't really want to go back to my apartment but I had an early day in the morning. I bid Berta a goodnight, glad that Victoria hadn't come back to throw herself at me again.

I went back to my apartment to find some peace from the pain that decided to make its presence known again.

Cher- dear

Qui est si chaud- That is so hot.

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