Disclaimer - I'm not Stephenie Meyer, and unfortunately can't pretend to be. She owns Twilight, I'm just playing with what could have been.
A/N - thanks to all who read and reviewed last time, I appreciate it so much.
Massive thank you to my beta, Trip - she has incredibly skills and isn't afraid to use them.
BPOV
I've known Edward Cullen for over a week and I'm beginning to wonder if he actually has a home at all. Every morning when I arrive at 8.30 he is in his office, head bowed, only giving me a view of his unruly bronze hair, usually in the midst of report writing. When I leave at 6.30 he is still there and looking unlikely to be making a move for home any time soon. Does he sleep under his desk? He might as well. Or maybe he doesn't sleep at all? Perhaps he is a prototype headhunting cyborg that Volturi have invested in to improve efficiency. The E-WARD 2000 or something. That would certainly explain his God-like appearance; no human could be quite as gorgeous. Although I like to think my heart wouldn't race quite so fast when catching the eye of a robot.
Actually, maybe it's his personality that has given me the inhuman impression. Aside from that first day, where the tension in his office felt almost suffocating, he has barely found time to speak to me at all, outside of the completely necessary. We work, he gives me instructions and I follow them. As far as I can tell he seems pleased with my level of PA support but with no more than monosyllabic sentences between us it has been pretty difficult to tell.
With each day that has passed I've become more and more convinced that what I felt in his office was entirely in my imagination. When he held my gaze and told me I'd distracted him it was like I'd forgotten how to breathe. All I could think about was the intensity of his stare and how his lips quirked with just a hint of mischievousness. I'd been fairly certain that my new boss was flirting with me, and my racing heart seemed to support this theory, and yet for every day since he has looked at me with nothing but dull professionalism in his expression. Clearly, I imagined it - can over exposure to tea bring on hallucinations?
It is definitely for the best though. Thought-stoppingly stunning he may be, but he is also my boss. And, more importantly, I'm definitely not on the market for any dalliances, beautiful emerald eyes or not, given my situation. Not to mention the fact that Edward couldn't be more out of my league if he tried. He can quite clearly have any woman he wants and if I am to believe Jessica's whispered gossip he frequently does just that.
This morning I arrive at work a little behind schedule and I already have a voicemail flashing. Logging on my computer I hit the play button and a throaty and confident female voice sings out of my speakerphone.
"Hi, Edward! It's Rose here. Hope you are well, I really enjoyed seeing you at the conference last week - "
Pfft, I'll bet you did! Her voice is husky and seductive and I deduce in less than 30 seconds that she must be one of the conquests I have heard so much about.
"Anyway," Bedroom Voice continues. "I heard you won the Coleman assignment and I wanted to pass on my congratulations - good for you, Eddie! Bit of a big one for you, mate, huh? Best of luck with it. Give me a call if you need any help dealing with Michael, won't you? You know I'm used to him and his ways. Later, babes!"
"Fucking bitch." The muttered curse comes from just behind my ear and I jump out of my seat, knocking over my morning latte and the tea I brought for Edward.
I whirl around to see him standing right over my shoulder, scowling at my telephone speaker.
"Jesus, I'm sorry." I dash around trying to find napkins to wipe up the spill. "I'm afraid that tea was yours."
He seems to notice me and the spilt drinks for the first time.
Ignoring both he asks, "When did that voicemail arrive?" His expression is that of someone with a foul taste in his mouth.
"Earlier this morning." I reply. "Who is she? Is she, erm, a friend of yours?"
He scoffs. "Right. Rosalie Hale is definitely no friend of mine."
He provides no further explanation and his face warns me not to ask. He watches me fuss around on my desk some more.
"Meet me in my office in five minutes Bella, there are some schedule amendments." He grimaces as my poorly cleaned up desk and soaked paper towels. "And bring me a fresh tea, will you?"
I grit my teeth and take a deep breath. Don't rise to it, Bella.
We go through the schedule and today's priorities while Edward continues to scowl. When he can't find a particular dictation cassette he actually kicks his desk, making it shudder between us. Whoever Rosalie Hale is she clearly gets under his skin.
To be honest his childish temper tantrum is testing my patience but I remember Aro's words from last week and figure I should try to help him for the sake of the rest of the department, not to mention my own sanity.
I clear my throat. "Edward, I hope you don't take offence but you seem particularly...troubled this morning. Is there anything I can do to help?"
He meets my eyes and I see a brightness in those green orbs that I haven't seen since the day we met. He looks strangely touched. For a moment I hold his gaze and my breath catches. Then just as quickly the shutters are replaced. When he speaks though his tone is softer.
"Actually, maybe you can help. Shut the door for a sec."
Why does the mere act of closing the door to his office have my fingers trembling?
He sighs and drags his hand though his hair, making it even messier.
"In truth, Bella, I fucked up."
He proceeds to tell me about the situation between Coleman and Caius' off limits list. He doesn't elaborate but I get the impression from his tone that he has clashed with Caius in the past and Edward is now not on our CEO's list of people likely to receive a favour. Aro is angry and Edward looks pretty forlorn about it. I suppose if your work is as big a part of your life as it appears to be for Edward then having your boss disapprove of something you've done must be pretty upsetting.
It needs to be fixed before Edward's next meeting with Michael and I have a sudden desire to be the one to fix it for him.
"Listen," I say. "I know Caius, okay? He can be...difficult." I choose the word carefully, not wishing to bad mouth the CEO. "But I'm familiar with him. I know him. He is a reasonable person, but he is a by-the-book person and I get the impression that you're, well, not."
I smile and Edward grins wryly, letting me know I have him pegged. A workaholic and a big biller he may be but Edward Cullen appears to think "protocol" is for wimps. It actually makes sense for Caius to hate him.
"Leave it with me, I'll help you figure something out."
He looks relieved but dubious. "Please don't be offended, Bella, but what do you plan to do to convince Caius to alter their list?"
I let my smile spread across my face. "I know how he works, I know what he responds best to. Have a little faith, Edward."
I get up to get back to work and Edward gets up too and stops me with his hand on my arm. I can feel the heat of his long fingers through the thin material of my sweater.
"Bella" he says, meeting my eyes. "Thanks."
By late afternoon we have a solution and I'm feeling quite proud of myself. An email to Caius' assistant gauged his mood. Next I sent him an extremely polite email explaining the situation, apologising on Edward's behalf and subtly suggesting Caius consider negotiating a US-only off limits deal with the company in question, thus opening more avenues for business in the UK and more money ultimately in Caius' pocket. By the end of our exchange I'm fairly certain I've convinced the CEO that the whole thing was his idea.
When I inform Edward of the news he grins at me like a small boy on Christmas morning.
"Bella, you are a legend!" He announces. "Seriously, how grateful am I now for your US roots?" He winks and for a second I wonder if he is going to hug me. I fear if he does I may have a coronary. Fortunately, he gets a hold of himself and instead just collapses on his chair in visible relief.
"I'm glad to be of service." I smile.
An hour later I'm packing up for the day when he appears at my desk, coat on (wow - grey wool, perfectly tailored...) and suitcase in hand. But it's 6pm, surely he can't be leaving?
"You off, Bella?" he asks.
I nod.
"Care to be escorted to the tube?" He still seems unable to keep the smile off of his face.
I smile back and grab my stuff. I still can't get used to the weather here so have foolishly only worn a button down sweater today, despite the obvious chill I feel when we step outside. I think my fashion errors can be forgiven, as it is supposed to be Spring! As the wind whips round my face though I figure the UK branch of Mother Nature's office didn't get the memo.
As we walk along and chatter about work Edward seems to notice my teeth are also chattering.
"Shit. Here, do you want to borrow my jacket?"
The thought of having anything wrapped around me that previously surrounded Edward makes me tremble harder but I'm too polite.
"God no, don't be silly, it's only 10 more minutes to the subway. I guess I'm not used to your unpredictable weather yet!" I laugh but it comes out more nervously than I would like.
Edward frowns and then reaches up and unwraps the scarf he has around his neck.
"At least take this then, it was overkill even bringing it."
Before I can protest he has halted our walking and is wrapping the wool gently around my neck. Within seconds I am hit by an intense wave of his cologne and it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to bury my face in his scarf and inhale. Even the thought of him catching me doing so makes me blush.
"Perfect." he murmurs, moving his eyes from the scarf now around my neck and up to my face. His gaze holds mine for a beat too long and I'm very aware of his hands still gently resting on my shoulders.
"Erm, thanks." I finally cast my eyes downward, needing to break away so I can breathe. Surely it's illegal for someone to have this much power over someone else's physical reactions?
He clears his throat and we start off walking again. Neither of us speaks and I'm grateful when we get to Baker Street station.
"So, which line you getting?" Edward asks, looking completely unruffled while I'm still trying to get my heart to slow down.
"Bakerloo."
"Me too" he grins. "Where are you staying? I can't believe I've been such a self-involved twat this week I haven't asked anything about you."
"Camden." I reply. "Right next to the tube."
"No way!" Edward exclaims, surprised. "I live in Camden too. That's a bit of an odd coincidence, eh?"
I shrug. "Maybe. But maybe Voluri did it on purpose. For, you know, convenience."
Edward chuckles. "Yeah that would make sense actually, Aro always likes a safety net where I'm concerned. Someone nearby to whip me into shape, drag me out of bed when necessary."
Did he just wink at me? Jesus, this guy is bad for my health.
I get a hold of myself again and we continue to chat comfortably during the journey. Edward fills me in on all the gossip in the office, seemingly having no regard for confidentiality. But then I suppose it's only fair after the gossip I've heard about him. As we're nearing our stop his tone gets a little more serious.
"Bella, listen, I owe you a big apology."
I get the impression apologising doesn't come easy to him.
"This week I've barely spoken to you and when I have it's just been to bark out orders. I'm paranoid about what the others have told you about me and yet I've done nothing to give you a better impression."
He gives me a gentle smile. "You've been...perfect. And I've been a prize-winning tosser. You've really got me out of a sticky spot with that Caius thing and I want you to know I really appreciate it." His green eyes twinkle in the artificial light of the underground station.
He grins sardonically. "Anyway, from now on you have my word that I will be less of a grumpy bastard. I swear that isn't the real me."
Unsure what to say to all of that, I mumble my thanks into his scarf.
We've reached the exit now and I begin trying to explain where my place is.
He interrupts though. "So I was thinking as we're neighbours and all, and I really owe you one, how about you let me buy you a drink to say thanks properly?"
Christ, is he asking me out? Get a grip, Swan, of course he isn't! He is just being friendly.
I realise I want nothing more than to go for a drink with Edward. He fascinates me and I find myself itching to know more. Plus it beats going home to an empty, lonely apartment.
"Sure that would be great, thanks." I try to sound more confident than I feel.
Edward smiles and leads us to a bar 100 yards away.
"This used to be The Crown." He says. "A real old man pub, you know?"
I don't but I nod anyway and he continues.
"Then it got a revamp, a cocktail list and a trendy new name - Equius - what total bollocks." He rolls his eyes at the sign above the entrance. "Anyway, the prices went up to pay for the fancy interior and the quality of the bitter went down but it's still my local." He holds the door open for me. "I just can't seem to let it go," he adds, chuckling to himself.
It's busy, dark and warm inside. The walls are painted in purple and silver stripes and two sides are lined with booths. There is a small dance floor to the right but as it is early nobody is dancing, instead there are just crowds of arty types standing around looking to be in deep conversation.
Edward heads to the chrome-edged bar which covers the length of the back wall and greets the barman by name.
"Garrett! Alright, mate?"
Garrett is already reaching for a pint glass when he asks Edward what he wants.
Edward replies "The usual" and Garrett fills his glass from a pump.
In the dark of the bar Edward's hair looks almost black and the desire to run my fingers through it is almost irresistible. The bar area is crowded and Edward has elbowed our way to a space. Standing this close I can't be sure if the delicious scent is coming from him or just his scarf round my neck.
"Bella?" He is looking at me curiously and I get the impression he may have been trying to get my attention for a few moments already.
"Yes?" I blink.
"Drink? What do you want?" He is smiling again and all these easy-going grins are such a pleasant contrast to the dark scowl he has been wearing all week.
"Well, at risk of upsetting you by encouraging the new look of this bar, I'd love a Cosmopolitan."
Edward rolls his eyes good-naturedly and Garrett fixes my drink. With practiced stealth, Edward negotiates the crowds and leads us to a booth in the corner, which is miraculously empty. It must be nice to glide through life as simply as Edward does.
We each slide into the booth and he puts my cocktail in front of me. I quickly notice the framed print above his head.
"Galatea of the Spheres." I murmur.
He glances up to where I'm looking at the Salvador Dali painting.
"You know Dali?" he asks, curiously.
I really wish I could stop blushing every time he asks me a question.
"I'm not an expert or anything." I stutter "But I'm familiar with the famous ones.
He's my favourite artist, I guess."
Edward's eyes light up.
"Mine too." he says. "Have you been to Embankment yet?"
I shake my head. I've hardly been anywhere. I tell myself it's because I haven't had time but in honesty I'm uncomfortable going to a lot of places alone. It makes me feel exposed.
"You should definitely check it out." Edward is saying. "There is an excellent Dali exhibition down there. I've been several times."
I wonder for a moment if he is about to suggest we go together but he doesn't and I chastise myself. He is just making conversation, dummy.
He takes a sip of his beer and I try not to stare at his mouth. His tongue flicks out to clear the foam from his lip and I distract myself by taking a sip of my own drink. It's perfectly made - a wonderful balance of sweet and sharp, and the warmth of the vodka travels down my chest and makes me relax a little. I can't help the small sigh that slips from my lips.
Edward stares at me. "That good, eh?" He smirks. "Garrett is a bit of a cocktail legend, or so I've heard."
"You've never tried one?"
His smirk broadens "Can you imagine me with a flowery drink, Bella?"
"Go on." I say, gently pushing the Cosmo across the table to him and raising an eyebrow. "Taste it. I promise I won't tell anyone."
He smiles the lop-sided grin that is quickly becoming my favourite.
"Okay, okay" he agrees, and lifts the delicate glass to his mouth. I admit he does look a little ridiculous and I try not to laugh. I also try not to think about the fact that his lips are touching the glass exactly where mine were a moment earlier.
"Well fuck" he exclaims. "That is bloody delicious, I must admit."
He looks almost pained giving it back to me and returning to his pint.
"I really wish I hadn't tried that, you know." He is pouting and it is oddly endearing. "Now how will I resist next time?"
I have to giggle. "Maybe you can have one and Garrett can put it in a more manly glass for you." I tease.
"Good plan." He goes back to his pint with a grimace.
"So I owe you another explanation." He says more seriously.
My curiosity is piqued. "You do?"
"Yeah this morning. That voicemail." He studies the napkin underneath his drink. "I totally overreacted and took it out on you. Again, I'm sorry and I should probably explain about her as it's bound to come up again."
"Okay."
He sighs. "Rosalie Hale used to work for Volturi. Aro brought her in about six months after I joined. I was young and cocky and he specifically employed her with the idea of she and I working together as a good team. He thought her attention to detail would keep me on the straight and narrow, whilst I could teach her about schmoozing the clients. It worked out pretty well for a few years. We fought, obviously, but Aro is sharp and he was right about our complementary personalities. I trusted her, which is kind of rare. We were...friends."
I get the distinct impression from his tone that they were more than that but I stay silent.
"A year ago she upped and left without a word to join one of our competitors but not before stealing a fair few of our joint contacts. Aro was furious and there was talk of taking her to court for Breach of Confidentiality but nothing ever came of it. I was gutted, not to mention, livid. I'm not sure what I ever did to upset her but ever since she left she has made it her mission to wind me up. Every time I see her at an industry event or when we lock horns over a client we used to share she says whatever she can to get my back up, including patronising bollocks like this morning. She had three years to learn all my buttons and now she's like a kid who can't resist pushing them."
His jaw is set and his fists clenched and I can't help but think there was more to Rosalie leaving than he is letting on. Still, stealing contacts and clients is like breaking a commandment in the search industry so I can understand why he is angry.
"I'm sorry that happened." I say, unsure what else to offer.
Edward shrugs and slides his mask back in place. "That's the way it goes in this game, I guess. As a result though I don't trust a lot of people at Volturi, I must admit. You don't know who is going to stab you in the back next."
He is eyeing me carefully and my stomach flips uncomfortably.
"Well hopefully you can trust me eventually." I say, optimistically.
"Oh yeah of course, Bella," he stutters. "That's not what I meant at all."
But in reality I know we have a long way to go.
Three hours and eight Cosmopolitans later and it feels like we've made some headway. His eyes are misty, pupils dilated and his lazy smile has become a permanent fixture. With every laugh or look or simple brush of a touch I feel my barriers slipping and the pull of Edward Cullen increasing. He was beautiful before but the alcohol I have drunk has made him stunningly blurry round the edges, and it is taking every ounce of energy I have not to leap over the table and slide into his lap.
I allow myself the indulgence of wondering what would happen if I did just that. I imagine lifting my hand and moving it the short distance between the table and his face, as he leans eagerly towards me, and grazing the five o clock shadow on his incredible jaw with my fingertips. Would he pull away? Instinct tells me he wouldn't. Would he lean into my touch, maybe kiss my palm softly, gaze into my eyes with his smouldering green ones? What if I slid my hand up into his hair; hair that he has been dragging his fingers through all evening? Every time I had to look away to stop myself from doing the same. Would it feel as soft as it looks? Would he make a sound, like a sigh, and lean towards me, brushing his mouth against -
"Hey, Swan, you listening?" He is asking me, laughing. Apparently hours of drinking have put us on a last name basis.
"Yes. Yes of course." I choke out.
"So I was saying the most ridiculous one of all has to be 'faucet'? I mean what the fuck is that about?" He is slurring slightly but it only makes his voice sound more delicious to my muffled ears.
"I mean most of your words are simplified versions, right? You've taken the English version and made it childproof - 'pavement' and 'sidewalk' for example, talk about say what you see. But 'faucet' I just don't get, what is wrong with 'tap' - simple and efficient."
He is speaking so passionately about English UK/English US language discrepancies that it makes me giggle.
"'Faucet' is much prettier." I counter.
"My point entirely, Sweetheart, way too pretty for a plumbing outlet."
My heart stutters on the endearment and takes a full two seconds to get going again.
"So what is with your accent anyway, Mr Cullen?" The vodka cocktails have made me cheeky and bold. "You don't speak quite like the others."
He looks a little taken aback and slightly crestfallen, clearly this is a sore spot.
"Well, shit, if even you have noticed the difference then it must be pretty obvious."
"I have an ear for accents I guess." I try to reassure.
"I come from the South East coast." He tells me. "Essex. Slightly different accent down there."
"Are your family there?" In my growing Edward Cullen obsession I have attempted to coax more personal information from him all evening but without much success.
"Yeah. Some." He mutters, uncomfortable. "Anyway, do you want another drinkie? These Cosmos are bloody fantastic." He stumbles a little as he stands and I laugh.
"Don't you think we've had enough?" I ask. One of us has to be sensible.
Edward makes a puppy dog face that squeezes my heart but relents. We drag ourselves out of the booth and I wrap his scarf back around my neck. As we step outside and I slip on the step and almost fall to the ground.
"Whoa there!" He grabs my arm and steadies me. Fire runs up from where his hand is in contact with my elbow.
He looks my way and holds out the crook of his arm to me. "M'lady, would you like to be escorted more safely?" he winks.
"Like you are any steadier!" I scoff but link my arm through his anyway. We begin to stumble along and his scent drifts all around me.
"I was wrong about you, Bella." He says.
"How do you mean?"
"I though you were shy."
"I am shy!"
He looks at me sceptically.
"Okay well even the shyest of people relax after this much vodka." I explain and he smiles wryly.
We amble in silence for a few minutes, each dragging the other up when we stumble. I indicate the way to my apartment and he insists on escorting me "like a proper English gent."
We reach my door and turn to face each other. All night we have been at ease but now the tension rises again and I'm not sure what we're waiting for but we're definitely waiting.
I pull his scarf from around my neck and hand it back to him silently. He takes it and catches my fingers at the same time, giving them a gentle squeeze.
He half bows/half falls and a laugh bursts from my chest. He uses the break in my concentration to move in suddenly closer to me, one arm leaned casually on the doorframe behind my head and his face an inch from mine.
I freeze. He moves his head alongside mine and grazes my cheek with his lips. Soft. Warm. Perfect.
"Goodnight, Bella Swan." He whispers.
I expect him to move back but instead he lowers his head and finds the exposed skin of my throat. He presses his lips to my pulse and I forget how to breathe, how to move, how to speak. Back and forth he brushes his mouth across my skin until I'm sure the trembling in my mind must show in my body too.
Apparently taking my lack of speech and movement as encouragement he moves to face me, barely a breath between us. His other hand gently falls to my waist, effectively blocking me in against the door.
I can hear his slightly laboured breaths. I can feel his eyes on my face, willing me to look up and meet his but I'm afraid if I do I will be lost.
"Bella," he murmurs, bringing his hand to my cheek.
I finally meet his gaze and it's as if he is looking into my soul. He leans his face even closer and I suddenly feel exposed, cold, wide open and afraid.
"No." I whisper, putting my hands on his shoulders and pushing him back. He retreats, looking hurt...and drunk.
At once, I feel completely sober and a little sick. This is not what I came here for; I don't want this man to see me, to know me, to touch me. I don't want him to see into my soul and know my secrets, my shame. He has no place and no right.
Sudden anger courses through me. And this is Edward Cullen, for fuck's sake! Workaholic. Ladies' man. I bet he has bedded every PA they have ever given him!
"What do you think you're doing?" The volume of my voice in the silent, damp night makes us both jump.
"Nothing. I'm sorry. I didn't mean - I'm sorry." He stumbles and stutters and puts space between us. His green eyes are confused. Part of me feels sorry for my outburst and desperately wants to take it back and pull him back against my door.
But I don't. I crack instead.
"This is the usual method, is it?" I snarl. "Take your PA out, ply her with drink and make your move?"
I watch his face slowly harden.
"No." He almost growls.
"Oh really? Because that's not what I've heard."
"What you've heard means nothing!" he shouts, anger to match mine. "You know NOTHING about me!"
We stare at each other and I wonder what the hell just happened. I shiver and desperately want to be inside.
"You should leave." I say quietly.
"Yeah." he mutters, turns and walks away without another word.
A/N - I would love to hear what you think.
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A x