A/N-

Hiiiiii! Sorry that my posting schedule hasn't been consistent. But never fear. This story will not be abandoned. I love Advertisingward (and George and Henry) too much, and everything is already plotted and outlined. I made this chapter extra long to make up for it.

Many of you have very strong opinions about Alice and think she needs to BUTT OUT! Lol. (I agree)

I would be remiss if I didn't thank everyone who voted in the Twific awards! I was voted 2nd place favorite newbie author. Woo-hoo! I'd like to thank the Academy and Rob. It's an honor.

Let's get to it.

Not beta'd. Forgive any mistakes.

S. Meyer owns all things, Twilight.

Chapter 12

BPOV

"I'm hearing good things."

I look up from my monitor and see Mr. Volturi's questioningly raised eyebrows as his head pokes through my office door. Lifting both hands from my keyboard, I cross my fingers.

"Your lips to God's ears," I say.

Edward and I nailed the Anderson presentation earlier this week. Paul Anderson, who is taking over from his father, was impressed with our knowledge and professionalism. He also liked the individual attention a smaller firm like ours would provide. Edward's delivery was flawless, as usual, and I found myself in awe as I watched him work. Nothing sounded rehearsed, and he laid out the perfect case for why they should go with Volturi. He smiled at me from across the table when I wrapped things up with my closing remarks.

There was no denying we made a great team.

Before that, the last time I'd seen Edward was Thursday night at the company dinner Mr. Volturi threw for the group. It was at Ciccio Mio, a cozy, upscale Italian restaurant on the North Side. I spent most of my time with Carmen and her husband, along with the other members of the graphics department, but found myself glancing at Edward throughout the night. He sat at the end of the table, cutting a striking figure in his grey suit, and when I went to the bar to refresh my drink, I felt a warm presence beside me.

"Hello, Bella."

His voice was soft, and I started slightly before facing him, caught off guard by how close he was. His green eyes sparkled under the overhead lights as the quiet conversation of the other guests milled around us. The subtle musky scent of his aftershave filled my senses, and I tried to ignore how it reminded me of standing in his driveway that snowy morning when I wanted him to kiss me. The bartender cleared his throat, and I turned to find him handing me my drink.

I thanked him politely and turned back to Edward.

"Hello, Edward," I said.

We stared at each other momentarily as if neither of us knew what to say. I hated it but knew it was my fault. Edward was doing precisely what I'd asked him to do—respecting my boundaries. He hadn't invited me to lunch one on one, stopped by my office unannounced, or done anything that might be construed as unprofessional. And I second-guess myself every day, wondering if I did the right thing.

"Carmen sent you a copy of that small tweak, right?" he asked, breaking the awkward silence.

I nodded.

"Yeah, we were just discussing it. It looks good."

I took a sip of my drink and saw Mr. Volturi push back from the table. I pointed in his direction with my glass.

"Looks like he's getting ready to shower us with praise and a pep talk," I said.

Edward continued to watch me, but now, his gaze was somehow more direct, and it went through me like a wrecking ball. The polite smile he'd worn earlier was replaced with an intense and penetrating stare, and suddenly, the room was very warm.

"You look beautiful tonight, Bella," he whispered.

The sincerity in his eyes was unmistakable, and I watched as the light played against the flecks of gold around his irises. And then he was gone—walking back to his seat just as Mr. Volturi raised his glass and began his speech.

~!~

I look up suddenly and realize Mr. Volturi is still standing in my doorway. I push aside the memory of Edward staring at my lips and sit up straighter in my chair.

I clear my throat. "They're supposed to let us know by the end of the week," I say.

Mr. Volturi takes a step inside my office.

"Got a minute?" he asks.

When I nod, he closes the door before walking to my desk and taking a seat in front of me. He leans back and steeples his fingers under his chin.

"So," he starts, and I can't help but notice his serious tone. "First, I want to apologize."

I pull the binder for the new coffee account from my desk drawer before looking up at him with a furrowed brow. "Apologize for what?" I say.

He leans forward. "For shooting my mouth off in the conference room last week. When Amy said you were dating someone, I—well, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

I push the binder to the side and cross my arms over my chest.

"How long have you known me?" I ask.

He looks surprised by my question at first but recovers quickly. "Eight years," he says.

"Right." I smile. "And in all those years, when have you known me not to tell someone if they made me uncomfortable?"

He raises an eyebrow in acknowledgment. "Point taken. But still ..."

I look at him, bothered that he feels bad about this. Everyone knows Amy Vining is the biggest gossip around, and even the best of us have been misled at one time or another by her assumptions.

"Mark Jefferson," I say with a straight face.

He looks up quickly and lets out a burst of laughter.

"Well, I guess there's always that," he says.

I scrunch up my face, remembering my embarrassment over the rumor I believed for weeks. Amy told me that our sweet mail room guy had some kind of sex thing going on with a group of older women in his neighborhood. It turned out he was showing them how to navigate their smartphones and the apps on their televisions. They were giving the kid homecooked meals as payment.

"Regardless, it won't happen again," he says. "I've learned my lesson about making assumptions." He pushes back his chair and stands before placing his hands in his pockets and leveling me with a serious look. "And so has Heidi."

The room is quiet except for the soft hum of activity outside my door as phones ring and people have muffled conversations. I stare at him, unsure if he's making the implication that I think he is and if he knows about what went down between me and Edward. His gaze doesn't leave my face.

"Have you seen Edward today?" he asks.

My body gets warm at the mention of his name.

"Uh, no," I say. "Not since we pitched Anderson."

He stares at me for another beat before turning toward the door. He looks over his shoulder when he reaches it and puts his hand on the knob. But instead of his signature—Don't take any shit, Miss Swan— he leaves me with something else.

"The two of you make a good team."

When he leaves the room, I lean back in my chair and watch him as he stops to chat with James and Emmett, the two new sales guys. Turning to stare out the window, I let out a soft sigh.

"I know," I whisper.

~!~

"Are you going to go?" Alice asks.

I have the phone cradled against my ear as I tie up the trash and get ready to take Oscar for a walk.

"I don't know yet," I say.

"It can't hurt," she says. "You might even have fun. You remember fun, right?"

Oscar almost trips me in his excitement as I reach for his leash.

"Os!" I shout. My hand shoots out to steady myself against the counter while my heart beats like I just ran a mile. "Jesus!" I say. "Okay, okay. We're going." I shuffle the phone again and huff.

"Yes, I remember fun, Alice," I say. "I'm not opposed to fun."

"Unless they're both plants trying to get trade secrets," Alice says distractedly.

I roll my eyes and clip the leash to Oscar's harness.

"They're not plants, Alice. They're just two guys who realized their old employer is a slimy asshole and want to work for a better company. Besides, Mr. Volturi vetted them, so I think they're fine.

Alice is talking about James and Emmett—the two new sales reps we hired about a month ago. A few of the twenty-somethings that came on board last year didn't make it (surprise), and we recruited the more experienced pair from The Wolf Agency. They have non-competes, of course, and both men have assured us that the split from Wolf was amicable, but we all know the truth. Everyone eventually figures out how Jacob Wolf runs his Agency, and if someone has even the slightest bit of integrity, they usually get out. The ones who stay might make a lot of money, but their reputations take some hits.

There's a Happy Hour tonight that Amy threw together to welcome them to the team unofficially. Rumor has it, she's got her eye on James. But my days of making assumptions are over. The less I know, the better.

"Emmett still shadowing you on the Java World account?" she asks.

"Yeah," I say. "And James has one more week with Edward for Callahan Auto Parts."

Mr. Volturi has all the new hires shadow a more tenured associate when they come on board. It allows them to see what we expect regarding service and integrity toward our clients. But we also provide them with the leeway to incorporate their own sales style.

"I wish I could go," Alice says, "but I promised Lis I would take her dress shopping for the dance.

"I can't believe my Goddaughter is in eighth grade," I say. I lock the door behind me and start down the stairs with Oscar.

"Tell me about it," she says. "Where did my baby go?"

I push open the door that leads outside and tighten my scarf around my neck.

"They're both cute," she says.

I know she's not talking about Lis and the kid she's taking to the dance.

"Uh-uh," I say. "No way. Don't start with that. I refuse to go down that road again with anyone I work with. Any relationships I cultivate with employees at Volturi will remain strictly professional."

She's quiet for a moment.

"Present company excluded, of course," I say.

"But of course," she says. Her voice holds a note of the exaggerated snobbery we use with each other when we've either had too much to drink or we find something or someone completely ridiculous. Hers always sounds like an extreme version of Mrs. Doubtfire.

The first thing I noticed about James and Emmett was how different they were. Not that I expected them to be carbon copies of each other because they worked at the same Agency, but I was under the impression they were tight—good friends. But the more I get to know them, the more I think their simultaneous move to Volturi was just a coincidence. The pair couldn't be any more opposite.

Emmett has a boy-next-door demeanor about him. He's likable and laid back. His easygoing smile is infectious, and he asks insightful, detailed questions, indicating he wants to learn how we do things. I think he's going to be a great addition to our team.

I don't have a handle on James yet—most likely because he's been working with Edward so much. But the initial impression I get is that he's Type A. He seems serious—which isn't a bad thing, per se, but I find his level of intensity almost off-putting sometimes. But maybe that's just me. Both he and Emmett have stellar reputations, and I'm sure their individual styles work for them.

"Is Edward going?" Alice asks. Her voice holds no judgment. She hasn't questioned me too much about Edward since the day I met him in the coffee shop. I told her what he said and how I responded, and she was unusually quiet—at least for her.

I stop so Oscar can sniff his third fire hydrant.

"I think so," I say. "I heard him talking to James about it before I left the office today."

"Well, tell me all about it tomorrow," Alice says.

Oscar pulls on the leash as we approach the dog park.

"I will," I say. "And send me pics of Lis in her dress."

"Yep," she says. "And Bella?"

"What?" I say.

"Remember to have fun."

I hang up the phone, and Oscar starts to whine when he sees his favorite playmate—a Frenchie named Turtle, who's waiting for us at the entrance to the dog park. I wave to his human and let Oscar off the leash. He races to Turtle, licking his face and sniffing his butt, until the pair run wild through the field. They sprint around each other in excited circles, caught up in the pure joy of just being together. Turtle's mom and I sit down at a nearby bench, and as we watch our "kids" play and have fun, I can't help but wonder if I should take a page from their book.

~!~

Stateside Bar is crowded when I get there. I meant to arrive earlier but was at the park with Oscar longer than anticipated after Turtle's mom, and I started discussing her new job. Then, when I got home, I realized my car was on empty, and I'd have to take time to stop for gas. So, I just threw on a pair of jeans and minimal makeup and called an Uber. I didn't expect to stay long anyway.

I maneuver through the crowd and hear Amy's voice in the back. I figure heading toward that is about as good of a game plan as any. I can just make out a group of Volturi employees in the corner when I hear, "Hey, boss." I turn around and see Emmett standing behind me, holding three beers in his hands. I smile at him.

"Emmett, I told you I'm not your boss," I say.

He gives me one of his infectious smiles.

"Yeah, I know; I just like to annoy you."

I laugh, and he holds up the beers and nods toward the corner.

"We're back there," he says. "Jesus, for someone so small that Amy can talk."

I stop and turn around to face him.

"If there's anything you don't want getting out," I say. "Don't tell Amy."

He gives me a dubious look.

"Phhttt," he says. "Please. Like I have anything to hide."

I put my hands up in supplication.

"I'm just telling you so you can't tell HR you weren't warned," I snicker. "But seriously," I say, looking him in the eye. "There's nothing malicious about Amy, but she tends to get things wrong, so just be careful what you tell her."

"Fair enough," Emmett says. He hands me a Corona. "Here."

I take the bottle, thanking him and thinking what a coincidence it is that he just happened to get my favorite beer.

"No, problem," he says. "Edward asked me to get it for you when I went to the bar."

I look around the crowded room but don't see Edward.

"Where—" I start to say, but Emmett cuts me off.

"He's back there." He points behind my head, but I still can't see anything. "He saw you come in."

My face suddenly feels warm, and a slow tingling begins to burn in my stomach when I think about seeing Edward.

"Come on," Emmett says. He moves in front of me. "Hold onto my shirt, boss. I'll lead the way."

I shift my beer to my right hand and grab the tail of Emmett's shirt lightly in my left as we move through the crowd.

"Out of the way, peasants!" he bellows. "We're coming through!"

I laugh and follow Emmett through the throng of people until the seas part, and we're in an open section of the bar. There are three pool tables, and I notice some employees from the second floor. I wave to Bree, who's standing by the wall, chalking up her cue stick. She lifts her arm and waves back.

"We've got a table over here," Emmett says.

I follow him to a large table. Amy is holding court at one end with some admins while Carmen and some graphics folks sit at the other. That's when I see Edward. He's sitting at the other end of the table, closest to where I am, and smiles at me before standing. Emmett places the two beers on the table, and Edward pulls a chair out for me.

"Thanks," I say. I'm unsure if he can hear me over the bar's noise. I said it quietly, too busy watching the way his hair fell in chaotic patterns after he ran his hand through it. He must have, though, because he nods before sitting. Emmett pushes a beer over to him and then straddles the chair next to me backwards.

"So, boss, how am I doing?" Emmett asks me. "Think I have what it takes?"

I take a sip of my Corona and eye him. We both know it's a rhetorical question. Emmett has what it takes in spades. But I've learned that underneath his exterior bravado, he's like all of us and needs validation sometimes, no matter how much we might believe in ourselves.

"Absolutely," I say. "If you want to run with the Java World account, it's yours."

He looks at me in astonishment, and when I glance at Edward quickly, I see him smiling at the beer he's holding.

"Are you serious?" Emmett asks.

I nod.

"I talked to Mr. V about it, and he gave the go-ahead." I say. "f you want it, of course. I know you've got your own leads. I don't want to overload you. But Java knows you now, and they like you. We think you'd be a great fit. It's yours if you want it."

I didn't expect to tell Emmett about this tonight, but when he asked how he was doing and I saw the earnest look on his face, I couldn't resist. He takes another sip from his beer.

"Thanks, bos—"

I give him a look, and he grins at me. "I mean, thanks, Bella. I'd love to work on it."

"Great," I say. I smile and clink my beer bottle against his.

Emmett looks at Edward, who's been silent throughout the exchange.

"You were right about her," Emmett says to him.

Edward looks up at Emmett quickly, and I look at both men in confusion.

"Right, about what?" I ask.

Emmett downs half his beer. "I told Edward last week that I thought you were the coolest person at Volturi, and he said that didn't even scratch the surface where you're concerned."

I look at Edward. His head is down, and he's inordinately interested in a watermark on the table. When he looks up at me, I stare into his soft emerald gaze. I'm not sure how to respond when someone speaks from behind me.

"Well, I, for one, don't need anyone handing me sloppy seconds. I can get my own accounts."

Emmett and I turn our heads to see James. He's standing behind my chair with his hand wrapped around the top of it. I don't respond to the rude remark, but when I turn back around, I'm surprised for a moment at the look on Edward's face. He's staring at James above my head, and the look he's giving him is hard as stone, almost primal.

James sits in the chair across from me to Edward's right. He's holding a short glass filled with ice and some sort of brown liquid. We all just look at him, and it's obvious we're uncomfortable with the energy he brings to the table. I can feel the tension coming from Edward, but before he can speak, I jump in first. James might have caught me off guard, but now I'm irritated.

"I don't know how they did things at Wolf, James," I say. "But at Volturi, we're a team. We don't stab each other in the back here. We don't steal accounts from each other, and we don't sit in the corner hoarding our marbles. We work together. We collaborate. We think the best sale is one where the associate is the right fit for an account. Sometimes that's a different person than the one who started the process. In this case, the best person for Java World is Emmett. He'll be a better fit for the customer, which in turn makes it a win for Volturi." I watch James take a long gulp from his glass, and his eyes never leave mine as I continue my smackdown. "So, if 'sloppy seconds' is how you look at a situation like this, then maybe Volturi isn't the best place for you."

James continues to eye me with a steely stare, and I wonder for a moment if my tendency to speak before I think was a mistake. But then I see something shift in his expression. It's subtle, but I see it—almost as if he's brought an iron curtain down, shielding me from seeing anything behind his eyes. He grins slowly.

"I heard you were good," he says. "And I can see they weren't kidding."

He looks at Emmett and gives him a smirk. "Congratulations McCarty." He clinks his glass against Emmett's bottle.

Edward says nothing, but the look he gives James is brimming with disdain.

Just then, Amy comes rushing up to the table. She's not drunk, but it doesn't look like it will be long. She puts her arm along the back of James's chair.

"Come on, we need two more for darts," she says. "Why don't you and Emmett come over? You can meet some of the other admins." She smiles. "After all, they're the ones you'll be relying on if you want your shit done on time. Better to suck up to them now." She stumbles back slightly, and James shoots his hand out to steady her, wrapping it possessively around her waist. He doesn't take his eyes off me the entire time. A finger of unease creeps through me as he continues to stare at me as Amy rambles on, and when I look at Edward, I'm surprised at how close he is. He's angled his chair and himself so that he's almost blocking my entire body with his as he leans across the table.

"Yes, James," he says, and his voice is like ice. "Why don't you go play darts with Amy and her team? After all, like she said, they're the ones who really run things. You wouldn't want to get on their bad side, now, would you?"

James turns his attention from me and looks at Edward with a bland expression. He downs the rest of his drink and squeezes Amy's waist. "Let's go, Miss Vining. Lead the way."

He stands from his chair, and Amy smiles up at him before looking at Emmett. "You too, Emmett."

As James and Amy walk toward the dart boards, Emmett downs his beer and stands. Before leaving the table, he places his empty bottle on it and looks at Edward and me.

"That guy is a fucking asshole."

With that, he salutes me and smiles.

"Boss," he says. I roll my eyes.

"Thanks for the sloppy seconds." His grin gets bigger. "Now, I've got to go kick this dick's ass."

I watch him saunter away and chuckling; I turn back to Edward. I stop laughing immediately when I see his face.

"What?" I ask.

The intensely angry look is gone, but there's something else on his face now. Admiration? Pride? I'm not quite sure. He grips his beer and then looks up at me while shaking his head.

"What?" I ask again, trying to contain a smile.

Edward stares into my eyes and then breaks out into a smile of his own.

"You're a fucking badass, Bella Swan."

A/N

As always, thanks for sticking with me! I will never abandon a story. I did want to give everyone a heads-up, though, I am reworking Finding the Light and will be pulling that story soon. Most likely in the next few weeks. That's what's been keeping me from updating this story as often as I would like. I will put an announcement on FFnet first, as well as on my Facebook page and also on the Twilight Facebook group pages. I'm so happy so many of you enjoyed it, and I would like to give you an opportunity to save it if you want to before it's pulled. I cringe at some of it, laugh at other parts, and feel pride in a lot of it. But it needs work, and I want to make it the best it can be.