Disclaimer - Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, not me. Unfortunately.
A/N - Hi folks, thanks again for everyone who has taken the time to read and review. And hello to all the new people who have put this story on alert - if you haven't done so already I'd love to hear what you think, reviews are my own personal brand of heroin.
Enormous thanks to the wonderful Trip for whipping my writing into shape.
BPOV
As yet another red London bus drives by too fast and splashes me in rain water from the gutter I wonder for hundredth time why I decided to move to a country with a climate worse than Washington. I have been living here for a week and so far it has rained every day. Worse than the rain is the wind though, as I dash around the most confusing network of streets I've known in any city, the wind creates tunnels between the buildings that knock you sideways. I've already broken three umbrellas, and this is supposedly their summer! Last week my doorman (excuse me, security guard) quipped, "If you don't like the weather in England, wait a minute." No wonder these folks love to talk about it.
Another thing I can't wrap my mind around is their subway system. They call it "The Tube" and I cannot think of a more appropriate nickname. It is small, cramped and stifling; and the only place in London where you know it's summertime.
However, in spite of the rain and the transport about one thing I am absolutely certain; I'm in love. Unconditionally and irrevocably in love with England. There is so much history, art and culture. I am desperate to absorb it all but I'm satisfied with beginning by exploring my neighbourhood.
My apartment is in an area called Camden Town, it isn't particularly close to Volturi's offices so why they picked this borough is baffling. Maybe there is some logic I am yet to be made aware of. It seems quite a young and fashionable district. Rustic loft apartments reside alongside cramped studios made cool by their hippy window dressings. Almost every day there is a huge market selling music memorabilia, funky clothing, unusual artwork and home wares. I suspect this market must be quite a big deal, as people appear to come from all over to see it.
Twenty sweltering minutes away by "tube" is my office in Marylebone. Here things seem a little wealthier. The streets are a bizarre but fantastic combination of old and new - modern glass architectural is nestled snugly amongst Edwardian converted townhouses. The UK branch of Volturi Executive Search is housed in one such converted old residence. Compared to the twenty-two storey glass and steel structure I worked out of in Seattle, this office is tiny. Four floors containing quirky but beautiful furnishings and a casual and relaxed staff of 40.
I arrive for my third day to a much livelier office than yesterday. Many of the staff were at a conference earlier this week but it seems everyone is back and the place is buzzing. My nerves return with a vengeance. I imagine just strutting up to the new faces, offering my hand and proclaiming "Hi I'm Bella Swan, from Seattle. How are you doing?" but instead I creep quickly to my desk and pray for invisibility. No such luck.
"Morning, Bella!" Jessica Stanley greets loudly and smiles from the desk opposite mine. "Tea?" she gestures to the mug already in her hand. I always thought the cliché about British people and their obsession with tea was just that, a cliché, but it really is the backbone of their society from what I can gather.
"Thanks, Jessica, that would be great." I reply, hating my small voice. If you can't beat them...
Angela Weber, the boss's Assistant, materialises silently beside my desk and offers me a small smile. She appears to be almost as awkward as me but circumstances have forced us to interact regularly and I can't help but like her.
"Aro is back today, Bella, and would like to meet you," she says, pushing her long hair behind her ear. Aro is Director of the London branch and some kind of distant relative of our CEO in Seattle, Caius.
Angela leads me to the office on the opposite wall to my section, which has so far been unoccupied. She gently guides me inside and a middle-aged man with greying dark hair stands to greet me. He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, and casts his gaze over me. I can almost feel his careful scrutiny. When he shakes my hand my palms are a little sweaty.
"So Isabella Swan, yes?"
I clear my throat. "Yes, sir, that's right, but Bella is fine."
"You have been Demetri's assistant in Seattle for six months, yes?"
I swallow and nod.
"How is he to work for?"
The question is slightly baffling but I find an answer anyway. Frighteningly, this feels a little like an interview. Although I suppose given that the UK team never met me before my transfer that is exactly what this is.
"Very efficient, sir. Extremely professional, a perfectionist really." I panic when I consider this might sound a little negative so I correct myself. "I mean, er, in a good way obviously! He is very good at his job, flawless with clients, so he expected the same from me of course."
"And were you able to deliver?" Aro looks at me sceptically.
I think back to Seattle and how, although I loved the work, my client interaction was not even close to Demetri's because my shyness would never allow it. I could be honest but this is supposed to be a fresh start, a new me, so there is no place for Bella part-on-the-wallpaper Swan here.
Finally, I reach for the safest answer. "I don't believe Demetri or his clients had any complaints, sir".
Continuing to appraise me, Aro muses. "Hmmm. Well I guess we shall see. You may find things with Edward are a little...different to what you are used to."
Ah, the elusive Mr Edward Cullen. I am yet to meet my new boss. On my first day he was out of the office at client meetings ("up North" apparently, according to Jessica) and yesterday he was at the conference with Aro and the others. Curiosity temporarily overpowers my nerves and I ask, "How do you mean?"
Aro grimaces and considers his answer carefully. "I want you to make you own mind up of course, but let's just say that Edward knows what he wants and he isn't afraid to go out and get it. Come hell or high water. It means he is a really big biller, which keeps me and the board very happy indeed, but it also means he needs someone strong to keep him on the straight and narrow. Are you up to that task, Isabella?" I notice the hint of a smile playing at Aro's lips, and clearly he missed my request that he call me Bella.
"Yes I believe so, sir," I reply, but I'm not sure I quite believe it. I haven't met the man but boy, does his reputation precede him! Everyone I've met so far at Volturi UK has had a few words of warning or advice, or simple straightforward gossip. I was a little shocked at first regarding just how freely these Brits chatter in the office.
Jessica had the most to say, and given she is the Researcher on almost all of his assignments I suppose she is definitely qualified. She said, and I quote, "Eddie, right? He's a sweetheart, and I mean a serious sweetheart but, my god, the man is a human tornado." I can't say that statement left me any the wiser to be honest.
"It's pretty much just work and women, work and women with him". That was a little clearer. I noted that women plural was used.
"I mean he'll need you to keep him whipped into shape and organise the shit out of him or who knows what kind of disasters could be bestowed upon us all."
I thought she was being a little dramatic but then during my handover Kate, my predecessor, although a little more discrete, spoke about Mr Cullen in a similar way; the way an older sister would discuss her little brother, fond but with near constant eye-rolling. Combined now with Aro's words I'm wondering what the hell the deal is with this Edward dude, and what on earth had I let myself in for.
"Ah! Speak of the Devil and he shall appear..." Aro mutters and my heart is instantly in my throat. A man enters Aro's office on a wave of the most delicious cologne I have ever encountered in my life.
"Sorry to interrupt, Aro, but I need a word."
My god, that accent. Of course, all the men here speak in a way that makes my toes curl but this voice is something else. Rich, deep and a little rough round the edges. Painfully British but with slightly longer vowel sounds than that of others I have met. It feels as if he may be disguising his true voice a little.
"Of course, Eddie, in fact this is perfect timing as I'm just having a natter with your new Assistant."
I finally lift my head and find myself gazing into the clearest pair of green eyes I have ever seen. Bright emeralds set in the sort of face model scouts dream about. Pulling my eyes reluctantly away from a jaw line sharp enough to cut glass I can't help but stare at the rest of him. Lean but broad-chested, narrow waist and over six feet of charcoal suit-covered deliciousness. Shit.
"Ah, the famous Isabella that I've been waiting desperately to meet." the Greek God is saying, eyes twinkling.
I am acutely aware that I've yet to speak but suddenly my mouth is as dry as a desert and every word in the English language eludes me. His knowing smirk makes me wonder if he can read my mind. He obviously caught me checking him out. Then the smirk transforms into a grin and he thrusts out his hand towards me.
"Hi," he says. "I'm Edward Cullen."
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Thanks, A x