Thanks so freakin' much to SereneInNC and Obsmama for giving me the courage to post this little fic. It turns out that I need more virtual handholding than I would have imagined. Now, without further ado, Chapter 5 (my favorite yet):
"This is what I've been told by my executive team: Employees are scared. Empty desks and lifeless computer screens distract my employees from their work. Employees whisper in break-rooms and in bathrooms. Employees don't know whom to trust.
Meanwhile, I am flabbergasted. I am appalled. This information very nearly makes me second-guess my motivations. It almost suggests that SAG's manpower is not up to the task at hand. This information makes me angry.
Why?
Because my employees have no reason for this rumored temerity.
You all have just survived the largest, most extensive corporate restructuring in the past seventy-five years. You are living through the second great depression, and living well, at that. You drive past empty businesses, past people on food lines, past insolvent banks. Where are you driving? To SAG Global, where you are employed.
Why do you have a job? Why were you spared?
Because you're good at what you do, people. You are excellent at what you do. You are the victors. You are the more powerful, the more brilliant, the more inspired. You are the best of the best.
You are the people I want with me while we re-build this institution, while we take this golden opportunity to conquer the world… of finance.
There is no time for ambiguity or self-doubt. There is no time for gossip. There is no time for you to act like a shadow of yourselves. There is only time for you to do your jobs as your directors have instructed. There is only time for innovation and the brave pursuit of capital.
Are you with me?
I hope there was a resounding 'yes' shouted in offices in here in Los Angeles, in New York, San Francisco, London, and Tokyo, because I can find a few thousand people willing to say yes if you have any doubt."
Bella Swan scowls as she switches off her computer monitor. She is not one for pep talks, but her plan requires discipline and fear has left her workforce impotent. Bella finds that fear is not an optimal motivator. There are many other emotions that drive people to action, while fear keeps one cowering in corners. Bella had a chance early on in her life to either let herself become immobilized by fear or to move past that peculiarly vulnerable emotion. She has never looked back. She does not appreciate others that do.
Bella takes solace, though, in the knowledge that her message will be broadcast in time with the rotation of the earth on its axis. Her speech will repeat itself over more than a thousand-fold after each employee turns on their computer monitor at the beginning of the workday. She can hear the melody and rhythm of her message as it plays in a round, jumping across oceans and spanning continents.
Pleased at that prospect, Bella pushes her chair from her desk and basks in warm rays of setting sun. Slanting evening light streams into the office, tracing a silver path along the dark hardwood from the windows to her desk. It warms her neck and her lap and falls onto the desktop, illuminating the golden flecks in the grain of the Carpathian elm. It makes the solitary, simple file folder on the desktop appear to shimmer.
Bella's fingertips fiddle with the edge of the folder. She gives in to a desire bubbling from within and brings the file with her to the window. Standing with the city at her feet, she is aware of the gentle resistance of her slim skirt against her thighs. She takes a deep breath and feels the scratch of her lace bustier as it presses against the wool of her suit jacket. Her fingertips remind her that a trace of the undergarment is visible at her collar. Pearls are wrapped around her throat. Black lace garters hold up her silk stockings.
She is thrilled.
The hint of a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.
Once more she opens the dossier in her hands. Bella knows the value of research when one is trying to close a deal. This file and the information contained within should assure her success. This file is dedicated to him.
She leafs through one document after the next. His father, a former security guard, was recently laid off after the company he worked for went bankrupt. His sister is married to a struggling mechanic. Their mortgage is more than the two can comfortably bear. His other sister is holed up in the hallowed halls of higher education, accumulating loans that will likely cripple her for the foreseeable future.
The members of this family aren't detritus, though; they are the fabric of the global work force. Their lot makes Bella's job that much easier, her goals that much more attainable. Desperate people have few options. They are concerned with survival and cannot fathom domination.
Desperate people… She leafs through his college transcripts and bank statements. She leafs through student loan deferments and second mortgages. She leafs through the evidence of his relentless effort, takes a deep breath and presses her thighs together.
"Ms. Swan?" Laurent's voice crackles over her office's intercom.
With a swift motion and sure steps she makes her way back to the desk and deposits the folder in the top drawer, sealing its existence away with a key.
"Laurent?"
"I have Mr. Cameron on line one."
"Put him through."
Ready for accolades, Bella makes her way to the bar to pour herself a small but satisfying reward. She sinks into a buttery brown leather lounge chair, takes a sip and crosses her legs. The lace of her stockings plays at the hem of her skirt.
"I'm just reviewing the cut, Ms. Swan. That was quite a performance. I think it should do," Jared's voice assures.
"It wasn't a performance, Jared. It was the simple the truth. To prove my point I want you to schedule interviews for commodities positions and to leak this information to the London office. I need them on their toes."
Bella hears papers rustling and voices in the background on Jared's end of the line as his team scrambles to get to work.
"Tell me we're moving on China's commodities," she threatens.
"As we speak."
"And the investment vehicle we've discussed?"
"Embry's making a market in it. We're short."
"Volturi?" she practically purrs.
"Moving cautiously, Ms. Swan. Sitting on capital. They're leaning on government bonds and precious metals. Aro's taken a meeting with Brazil's energy cartel."
Bella's head snaps in the direction of the intercom. "Brazil? Why? There's nothing left in that country but bananas and beef."
Jared's voice falters. He's finally exhausted easy answers.
"I want eyes on the ground in Brazil. I want an explanation," Bella commands. " I expect to see you in my office with preliminary answers tomorrow morning at five a.m."
"Yes, Ms. Swan."
An uncomfortable silence reigns as Bella takes another sip of her beverage. With no more instructions forthcoming, Jared bids good evening and the line goes dead.
Bella sighs in frustration. Unanswered questions are a source of deep dissatisfaction. Aro Volturi should not be wasting his time in Brazil. Ice clinks in her glass as she brings it to her lips and carefully considers what may have motivated his sudden flight to South America. Condensation wets her fingertips as the whiskey wets her unsatisfied palette. The silk of her stockings slips over supple leather as she re-crosses her legs. Golden yellow rays of the setting sun light the room from near the horizon framing Bella's face.
"Ms. Swan?" Laurent's disembodied voice inquires.
"What is it?" she snaps.
"Mr. Black has arrived with company. He is being relieved of his belongings as you instructed."
Whiskey quite suddenly begins to warm Bella Swan from the inside out and thoughts of Aro Volturi temporarily slip from her mind.
She knew he would come. She thought he would have come sooner.
He's missed a mortgage payment.
His health insurance has lapsed.
He's still holding five shares of random stock, but he is undone.
Bella takes a deep breath, another sip of her drink, and a personal inventory. Two buttons slipped from their closure would reveal black lace lingerie. A subtle slide of her skirt would reveal the black lace of her garters. A single clip holds her hair on top of her head, and with a nearly silent click it would cascade down her back. Her carefully cultivated exterior is held in place with little more than will. It is easy to become undone. One simply has to make assurances that one can be put back together again.
That is something that financiers world over have neglected.
That is something Edward Cullen has neglected.
That is a line Bella Swan likes to walk, but one she never crosses.
"Ms. Swan?" Laurent's digitized voice crackles over the intercom.
Bella leans back in her seat and something akin to a smile settles on her lips. "Bring him in, Laurent."
There are steps outside the office door, then a click and she is graced with a wry smile from her assistant, Laurent. He steps aside and Edward Cullen walks slowly into the room, his hands deep in the pockets of his slacks, his top lip trapped between his teeth. He's in his shirtsleeves, of course, his jacket having been confiscated.
"Ms. Swan?" Laurent asks again, this time from the doorway.
With a confirmatory nod from Bella Swan, he steps back and the door swings shut.
Bella cocks her head, surveying the man standing before her. His dull white shirt is wrinkled at the flanks, his navy tie pulled loose at the collar. He has pale purple shadows beneath his eyes.
His eyes.
Bella blinks slowly, purposefully, to refocus.
Edward interrupts her silent reverie. "I need to know what you want, Ms. Swan."
Bella's smile grows, almost against her will. "You're getting ahead of us both, Mr. Cullen. First tell me what brought you here."
"I need a job."
"You know I'm not going to give you a job."
"I need help, then."
"The Lord helps those that help themselves, Mr. Cullen. And while I can't claim to be the Lord, I am likewise disinclined to perform random acts of kindness."
"I don't think that's the intended meaning of the phrase," Edward argues.
Bella chuckles. "And I don't think you came here to discuss religious philosophy."
Edward clenches his jaw. Bella can see his hands forming into fists in his pockets. "I'm not here to play games, Ms. Swan."
"That's exactly why you're here Mr. Cullen. Now, do take a seat so that we can discuss this civilly."
Edward narrows his eyes, but doesn't make a move to take sit down. He considers leaving without looking back. He considers desperate actions, like selling his car or his home or his kidney… like selling his wife's engagement ring that sits unworn on her nightstand. Bella Swan uncrosses and re-crosses her legs and Edward's eyes travel up her body. He stops considering.
"Please take a seat," Bella commands, yet the man remains stubborn, standing a few feet from the entry.
Bella studies Edward Cullen from across the room. She watches the rise of his chest as he takes a breath. She detects the edge of pain in his eyes before he refocuses his attention out the window instead of at her.
"You don't have options," she insists.
"Why are you doing this?" he appears to ask the passing clouds.
"You were easy prey, Mr. Cullen. I had no choice but to inflict the wound, but rest assured, I can help."
"By playing a game?"
"Go ahead, tell me again why you are here."
Edward steels himself to continue. He attempts to quell the anger that is trying to force its way to the surface. He concentrates on avoiding eye contact, on avoiding looking at all. "I need resources to get me… to get my family some security until I can pick up the pieces."
"You need me."
Edward knows only that he needs money, insurance and a medical miracle. He doesn't need Bella Swan, but he can't stop thinking about her. He can't help being tempted by the idea that he might find a way out of his trouble without admitting to his family that he is a failure... He can't help but wonder what she might be proposing.
Sex.
That possibility seems blatant and unlikely. It seems all too abstract. Sex is an activity that had been given up in favor of nursing. It had been something attempted with his wife eighteen months ago that ended in tears and bitter embarrassment.
"I don't need you," he growls, speaking to himself as much as Bella Swan.
Bella sighs. She understands. Drink in hand, she rises to her feet and takes a step in Edward's direction.
"This situation affords us both an opportunity, Mr. Cullen. I don't need you either, but your existence is convenient. Even better – it is sport."
She admires Edward Cullen as he stands his ground and studiously avoids eye contact, while she moves closer.
"You wonder about my proposal. Well, you hit on the question the moment you walked into this room. What do I want? That is the question I would like to consume your every waking moment. Your job from this moment on is to figure out what I want, Mr. Cullen. Figure it out and then deliver it. If you manage this, you'll be rewarded in a commensurate fashion."
Bella ends her speech and her short journey near the corner of her desk, mere feet from Edward Cullen. Edward can no longer avoid looking at Bella. Her brown eyes are narrowed, her plump lips held in a self-satisfied line. She is certain of herself, and certain that he will bend to her preposterous will.
"You're sick," he sneers.
"I don't appreciate your attitude, Mr. Cullen. You were guilty the moment you walked into this room."
"You're buying someone to care for you."
Bella takes another careful step and looks Edward Cullen in the eye.
"Really? Then what, pray tell, are you selling? Don't fool yourself, Mr. Cullen. I've asked you over and over again to tell my why you're here. Your family, you say. Your desperate need."
Bella Swan surprises Edward with her touch - specifically, by taking hold of his penis through his slacks. "Your dick, Mr. Cullen. You know exactly why you're here."
Edward reacts swiftly. Grabbing Bella's wrist, he pushes her up against the door, pinning her hand over her head. Bella's chest heaves and her eyes flash. With Laurent and Jacob Black just on the other side of the door, she knows she is not in any real danger. She is a lioness playing a lamb and every cell in her body comes to life. She slides her thigh upward until it makes firm contact.
"This is why you are here, Mr. Cullen."
Edward pins her to the door with the force of his whole body hot and heavy against hers. His green eyes flash and he tightens his grip on her wrist while Bella hears the muffled clank of a belt buckle and feels jostling in conjunction with the zip of a fly. Edward yanks at her skirt, tears and tangles with garters and panties as he forces her body higher. All too quickly and with a decidedly ungraceful jerk and hitch he hoists Bella and thrusts, forcing himself inside of her.
For a moment the two combatants go still, frozen in the actualization of their mutual desire. Bella finds it difficult to breathe, electrified from within. Edward finds something he has quietly desired for years: he finds himself against a doorway, inside a woman who wraps a long leg around his hip. His eyes take in the hint of a bosom, the arc of a long neck, tendrils of shining hair playing along an earlobe, and come to rest on Bella's face. She offers a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "I told you so," she whispers.
Edward's actions are hard and unrelenting after this. He gathers both wrists above Bella's head and watches as her eyes close while he pounds her, knocking the door against its frame. He watches the tops of Bella's concealed breasts shake with each thrust, and he is frustrated. She is too clothed. She is too uninterested. He tugs at her suit jacket and pulls at the lace bustier struggling to force it out of the way. He wants more than the tops of her tits; he wants her naked, he wants to see her nipples and her ass, he wants to see himself disappearing inside of her.
Bella turns her face toward the window and Edward is incensed. He is here. He is inside of her. He needs her attention. He hates her and he wants her and his life is shit and she won't even look at him. Edward surprises himself as he grabs Bella's jaw and forces her face back towards him and pushes her head firmly against the door.
"Look at me when I fuck you," he grunts.
Bella's eyes radiate subtle shock and Edward loosens his grip, afraid of his own impulse. He handles his former employer more carefully afterwards, gripping her ass, pinning her with his pelvis, attempting to take care. The cotton of his button rubs against Bella's tits. They are full and pert and he wants to touch, but he can't spare a hand. That's not all Edward, wants, though. Edward finds there is suddenly so much he wants. He wants skin on skin and a large mattress. He wants kisses and blow jobs. He wants laughter and nudity and to make out on the beach. He wants the kind of things he always thought he would have, but never did.
Bella senses that she is losing Edward's Cullen's undivided attention. He is no longer fucking her with a vengeance. His mind moved on and his hands have gone soft. Displeased, Bella lets her head fall forward until her lips graze against Edward's mouth. Edward feels her warm breath scented of cinnamon and scotch. He feels her lips slide from his mouth, to his jaw, to his neck… and then he feels intense pain as Bella bites down hard where she's kissed. This is so much like his recent shower fantasy that Edward can't hold on and his body stiffens as he empties himself inside Bella.
Afterward, Edward slumps, leaning against the door in order to hold himself aloft as he tries to catch his breath. He rubs the spot on his neck where he's been bitten. Bella slips out from beneath his long, slanting frame and turns her back to him, facing the windows. Edward watches Bella as she slips her jacket from her shoulders and lays it folded over the back of her chair. Twilight streams through the windows and a golden aura casts Bella's feminine frame in silhouette. He admires the slender curve of her back and the swells of her breasts as she inspects her damaged lace lingerie and unclasps the hook and eye closures that run along her spine, dropping the garment to the floor.
"Make no mistake, that was what you wanted, Mr. Cullen. Next time, we'll concentrate on my desires," Bella murmurs as she unsnaps garters, releasing torn stockings. She takes a seat in her chair, still facing away from Edward, slips her feet from her stilettos, and slips off stockings and a lacy undergarment. Once her bare feet are back in shoes, she stands and walks toward the window. Bella smooths her skirt and then begins rearranging her wavy, tousled hair neatly on top of her head.
"From here forward you'll wear a condom before your dick comes in contact with me, Mr. Cullen. And as I mentioned before, you'll put me and my desires first. You will come to me where and when I say you will.
There's no use in making a show of this arrangement. No one would believe you, and I frankly wouldn't care if they did. I fucked a down on his luck former employee and tried to help him in his time of need. You are clearly the asshole in this scenario and will gain nothing by going public.
I hold all of the cards, Mr. Cullen: health insurance, mortgage, your father's pension, your younger sister's student loans. The better you perform, the better life you will make for your family."
Bella turns around and trains her eyes on Edward's crotch. Edward, meanwhile, finds it difficult to tear his eyes from Bella's bare breasts. She has small, dark nipples and he wants to think he is the reason they're hard. Edward's concentrated gaze pleases Bella, and she walks slowly and deliberately back toward her prey, picking up her suit jacket along the way.
"You'll need to clean yourself up, she murmurs as she slides a hand down the front of Edward's pants, finding him coated in her wetness in a state of semi arousal. Bella takes a firm hold and whispers in Edward's ear. "Save that for next time, Mr. Cullen." She nips at Edward's earlobe and presses her breasts against him. "You've earned yourself a mortgage payment."
Edward isn't expecting the abrupt withdrawal of Bella's hand or the three sharp raps on the door next to his head. Before he knows what is happening, the door swings open and he stumbles into Bella's assistant, Laurent who was standing in the entryway, just on the other side of the partition. Edward notices Mr. Black seated in a chair a few feet away with a bemused smile on his lips.
"Show Mr. Cullen the bathroom, Laurent?" Bella asks as she slips her arms into her suit jacket and buttons it over her bare breasts. "And Jacob?" Bella calls.
Mr. Black makes haste and brushes by Edward Cullen on his way into Bella's office.
"Make an appointment with Mr. Cullen for next Tuesday. I'll have him back here in my office."
"Of course, Ms. Swan."
"What about -" Edward begins, but he's silenced by the look on Bella Swan's face.
"Mr. Black will return your possessions on the way out. That is all, Mr. Cullen."
Laurent grabs hold of Edward's arm and guides him out of the room. Edward notices Mr. Black scoop up the pile of sullied lingerie from the office floor before he begins to pull the door closed. The last Edward sees of Bella Swan, she's leaning back in a chair with her bare legs crossed while her fingertips play with the collar of her suit jacket, or possibly her bare nipple hidden just beneath the thin layer of wool. She's deeply engaged in files she's produced from a desk drawer and doesn't look up as the door swings shut between them.
A/N: Thanks for voting for Shame for FoTW at TLS!
Psst... It's my birthday.
Until next time ~BDC