EPOV
The press were everywhere when we got to the Hilton, as expected. They shouted and jeered us as we got out of the car and made the short walk into the Brasserie. Thankfully, with the public milling around as they are wont to do in big cities, it was impossible to make out more than just the odd word of their shouted questions as we hurried inside.
Isabella was enchanted by the place, as I knew she would be. It was one of my favourites and I hoped I'd be able to take her to it often.
The Hilton itself was impressive, as they were all over the world, but the small restaurant inside it was unique. It boasted a mirrored glass ceiling and that ceiling had to be twenty feet up, which was impressive enough in and of itself, but the glass wall of wine bottles not only gave the place its name but also its charm.
Lights embedded in the ceiling mirrors as well as chandeliers threw light down onto that wall of bottles and the differing hues of the glass made the whole place glow.
Seth - and Jared who had joined us at the curb – moved away once we were inside and I saw them head off to their own table, heads swivelling about to make sure we were both safe.
I gave my name to the hostess but hated having to pull Isabella away from where she stood admiring the scenery.
Once we were seated, at a very discreet table that was protected on one side by a wall and on the other by one of the panels of mirror that lined the adjacent wall.
Isabella's eyes were on strings as she took it all in and I felt all my tension and anxiety melt away as I watched her smiling face.
"It's amazing," she cooed as she began pointing out features to me.
"It is," I replied honestly, not thinking about our surroundings but more about the wonderful woman across the table from me.
Our lunch was equally as wonderful as the company I kept. The food, always fantastic on previous visits, was even better than I remembered because I finally had someone to share it with that wasn't a colleague.
We never stopped talking either. There seemed as though there was so much to say between us and I found that astounding. I always lacked for topics when dining with others, even if my table companions were family or good friends I always found myself on the periphery of conversations rather than driving them.
But with Isabella it seemed that we were never lost for words.
She told me all about her classes, her teachers and some of the 'weirdos' she had in those classes. I told her about my time at university and some of the 'weirdos' I'd had in my classes. She laughed loudly when I reminded her that Emmett had been in those classes with me.
Every now and then Seth would rise from his table and stroll past us. Isabella would watch him but she never asked where he went each time and I was grateful for that. I knew the routine. I knew that he, or Jared, would check things out at random intervals. I knew that one or both of them would thoroughly go over my car before we left the restaurant and I knew that there was a plan in place to get us out of there via another exit should the need arise.
Isabella didn't know any of that and I was pleased for it.
We sat longer than I normally would have after a meal and sipped strong coffee, dipping almond cookies into it while we talked about our Melbourne trip.
Apart from the waitress bringing and clearing our meals and drinks we weren't interrupted. That was unusual for me. I was used to having to take calls no matter where I was or what time it was and under normal circumstances I'd be grateful to not be disturbed.
But they weren't normal circumstances. Jake hadn't contacted me and I was itching to have Caius file the lawsuit. After the third time I looked at my watch Isabella's brows knit together and she looked at me curiously.
"Do you need to go back to the office?" she asked.
"No," I scoffed, hopefully convincingly.
"You keep looking at your watch," she pointed out. "Where do you need to be then?"
"I'm right where I want to be," I tell her with a smile and reach for her hand across the table.
"That's not what I asked," she whispered. "I know you want to be here, I asked where you need to be."
Smart girls turned me on and she was smart. So very smart. I leaned a little closer to her and whispered back. "I need to be in bed with you," I grinned.
"Good answer," she whispered back before licking her lips a little, making me squirm in my seat. "But whatever it is that really needs your attention I understand," she says. "I have some homework and a few assignments I need to work on, so we can leave if you need to go."
I don't want to leave and I don't want to deal with the issues that are weighing me down but I don't want them left hanging over my head either so I agree. "On one condition," I grin. "I'll work from home but only if you come with me?"
My request wasn't wholly because I wanted her near me. I didn't know what the likelihood was her of her reading the Financial Review regularly, but considering she was studying to be an accountant it was certainly possible. My condition was also because if she went to her own home there was a good chance that the press would tip her off to the article and I was afraid that she'd never give me a chance to explain it if she was on her own when it was brought to her attention.
So for purely selfish reasons I wanted her near me.
But I could see from the look on her face that she was about to turn me down. My shoulders had already slumped before she gave me her answer.
"That's not practical," she began. "You'll be busy in your office there and I don't have my textbooks at your place, or my laptop," she threw on at the end.
"You could bring them," I all but begged but her decision was already made.
"Only to lug them all back again later," she said with a swift shake of her head. "I have to go home at some point," she whispered, squeezing my hand. "I'd like to invite you to work from there but I know that's even less practical."
"I could come over later," I say quickly.
"I'd like that," she smiled. "I know!" she said, getting excited, "I can finally cook for you if you come over later."
"I'd love that," I tell her truthfully. "But we're having dinner at my parents tonight, remember?"
"Oh, shoot," she whistles. "I forgot about that."
"You still want to go, don't you?" I ask a little desperately.
"Of course I do," she says with a smile. "How about I go home and do some homework, you go to your home and do your work, and you can come over a little earlier than we'd need to leave for dinner and we'll have coffee first?" she asks with a grin.
I hope I know what that grin means so I grin too. "Deal," I tell her firmly.
"How do we get boys attention without getting theirs?" she asks nodding towards Seth and Jared before nodding towards the exit where there was a long line of press hovering.
"It's simple," I grin. "There are all sorts of queues. We have a bit of a system. Watch," I say quietly and pick up my glass from the table.
I tap it three times on its base and then set it by my left hand.
Immediately we heard the scrape of two chairs and as Jared came towards us we see Seth striding to the exit doors and begin shooing the press aside.
"It's simple," she giggles as she stands.
"Isabella will be heading to her own home," I tell Jared who nods that he's heard. "Wait for us at the door please," I ask of him and he makes his way towards Seth. "We'll have to say goodbye here, unfortunately," I tell her softly as I kiss just behind her left ear.
She raises her hand to my cheek and gets up onto her toes, preparing to kiss me, but then she balks and lets me go. She's biting the inside of her lip and trying not to be obviously looking towards the windows that allow the press a good, clear view of us.
"I'm sorry," she whispers but I hear her.
"Don't be," I whisper back. "I understand."
She lifts her eyes to mine and I can see the war going on behind them. She knows now as well as I have always known that every move we make is going to be photographed and commented on for the foreseeable future.
I watch as the defiance and confidence returns to her eyes and then she's on her toes again, her warm little hand on my cheek as she snakes it around to my neck slowly. She tugs, just a little, and I lower my lips to hers.
It's a chaste kiss, just the meeting of our lips briefly, but it's enough for the flashes of the cameras to begin, startling the other patrons and infuriating both Seth and Jared.
"You're so brave, thank you," I smile down at her. "I'll see you for coffee later. Be careful please," I tell her with a squeeze to her hand as we move away from the table. "I'll settle the bill, you go with Jared."
"Thank you for lunch, it was lovely," she smiles. "I'll see you later," says before moving away to join Jared at the door. "I know, I know," she giggles as he opens his mouth. "Chin up, smile on. Let's go."
And then she's off and as she rushes past the press I stand and watch her progress. They don't jostle her, and lucky for them that they don't, but I can see that she's gritting her teeth as she sidesteps around the more insistent men with their cameras and recording devices shoved in her face.
"She's pretty good at this," Seth says as he comes to stand by me at the counter.
I hand my credit card over to the hostess and then turn back to watch through the windows.
I see the moment when one of their questions has bothered her and I cringe. She stops dead in her tracks despite Jared urging her forward. She speaks, maybe only one or two words and then she's turning, staring at me through the windows. Her eyes pleading with me.
I don't get a chance to mouth anything in her direction because Jared pulls on her forearm and she's propelled forward, out of my line of sight and away to the car.
I accept the receipt, sign my name mechanically and slide my credit card back into my wallet. I walk like a man condemned to the front door and rush my way across the street, Seth right beside me.
I look and see my other car pulling away from the curb and the group of press who had just accosted Isabella rush back to have a crack at me. I ignore them as best I can and slide into the backseat, slamming the door after me harshly.
Seth, to his credit, says nothing as he gets into the driver's seat and takes me home.
I spend the entire trip wondering if should call her and whether or not I've just said my last goodbye to Isabella Swan.
BPOV
"What did he mean?" I shout to Jared as he speeds off through the traffic.
"I don't know," he says calmly but I'm really not interested in calm right then.
"Spill what you do know then," I demand.
He opens his mouth but his phone rings and whatever he was going to say to me is forgotten as he presses the hands free button and answers.
I listen as he receives instructions from Seth but there's nothing said relating to what I'd just been asked so I ignore the third party micromanagement of my life and stare out the windows instead.
Jared ends his call and returns his full attention to driving. Just as I'm about to lose my shit and start yelling at him to tell me what the fuck is going on he sighs, yells at a guy in a ute that pulled out in front of us and gives me an answer.
"I don't have any idea what that journalist meant," he says evenly. "If I did I'd tell you, but I don't," he says matter of factly.
"Are you allowed to leave me in the car while you run into a shop for me?" I ask, an idea forming.
He thinks hard on it a moment. "Sure, if the shop is in a back street and there's no press following us as we pull up. I'll have to take the keys and lock you in though," he says.
"Fine. Find a newsagent or a milk bar or somewhere," I tell him.
He nods, tells me he knows one close and then he turns off the main road into side streets.
As soon as that's sorted I turn the ringer on my phone back on. I'd forgotten about it after classes because our lunch plans had changed. I'd intended to use my connection to start looking at the newspapers online but its incessant ringing and chirping alerted me to the fact that something was either very wrong or very big news.
It started ringing immediately, none of the callers being Edward. There are voicemail messages, emails, Facebook messages and text messages coming in a steady stream as we drive.
I hear Jared mutter 'fucking hell' under his breath and I think he's pretty close to the mark. Whatever was going on was big. Whatever had happened or had been reported was bad, very bad and whatever it was had something to do with me because every single message I had was asking for my comment.
Jared pulls the car up in front of a tiny row of shops two blocks from my apartment.
"What do you need?" he asks.
"Every newspaper they have. One of each," I tell him as I hand him a twenty.
He's quiet for a second, the money hanging between us limply as he thought. Decision made he simply said "Done. Keep your head down," and then he was bounding into the shop.
I continue to decline the calls in between deleting the messages asking for my comments while I wait for him to come back. He's not gone long and when he does come back he's got two plastic shopping bags full of newspapers.
He puts them in my lap and then gets back in the driver's seat.
I don't bother opening any of them as we're so close to my place so I sit as patiently as I can until we get there. The press contingent has tripled since I'd left there last. Jared tells me to shove the papers into my backpack and then we're off.
They're super aggressive now, just like the ones at the restaurant had been. They try to push at me, pull at me and try to block my way so they have more time to ask their questions of me. I ignore them all even though I want to know what they're talking about.
The silence in the lobby of my building is almost peaceful but I'm wound tight. Jared ushers me into the lift after a brief word with Ethan who looks bored.
I dismiss Jared after thanking him for getting me the papers and he disappears back into the hall leaving me alone with my research.
I tipped the contents of the plastic bags out onto my dining room table and sit down to start reading. I ignore the Herald, been there, done that.
There was nothing in the Daily Telegraph and nothing in The Bulletin either.
I moved on to a few of the regional ones and found nothing there either.
After half an hour of reading crap I start to think I've got the wrong idea. That there isn't an actual story anywhere and that the problem is in some other form other than the print media.
I grab the next paper and with a goodly portion of doubt in my head I start scanning the first pages. Page four I hit pay dirt. I turn back to the front and see that I'm reading the Financial Review. My stomach drops as I reread the headline and I feel the bile rise in my throat as I read the body of the article.
I read it twice, just to make sure I'd actually seen what I thought I'd seen and then I folded the paper neatly and set it back on the top of the stack.
"Well," I sighed, "at least now I know why he was yelling."
I dial Jared's number and he answers right away, his voice clipped and anxious.
"Nothing's wrong up here," I tell him right away. "I need to go somewhere."
"You need to tell me where," he says, knowing I have no idea what the protocol is yet.
"Edward's house," is the simple answer.
"No problem, I'll be right up."
"Don't call ahead," I warn him, "I'll come right out," I tell him and hang up. I repack my backpack with a few clean clothes and throw the newspaper in on top of everything once I'm done.
I call my brother and leave a message with Angela telling him that I'm alright and that I'm staying at Edward's for a while and then I step out into the hall just as Jared comes out of the lift.
He admonishes me lightly for not waiting for him and I accept his criticism as well as I can while my head is swarming with questions.
EPOV
Jake hadn't called. I had him. I finally had him. I took great pleasure in calling Caius and giving him the go ahead and he sounded just as pleased as I felt to finally be able to stick it to the piece of shit we knew Jake to be.
Alec had come through for me and had faxed me copies of the money trail I'd asked for. That bolstered my belief that Jake Black had just signed his own professional death warrant as I read through them.
Alistair hadn't lied when he'd told me he'd been diligent. His reports, also faxed through to my home machine, showed me exactly how good I'd always known him to be. He knew the law inside and out compared to my mediocre abilities and I thanked him profusely for his work as we went through the reports together by phone.
He'd provided me three more case studies with three precedents that would come in handy should this end with me in court.
Marcus was still yet to return my call but I knew he would once he was able. I felt better knowing I had my own backyard in order before I talked to him anyway.
Emmett was prepped and his team was working on a statement that would be released to the press as soon as I gave the go ahead. I'd had enough of being roasted now. I was over being painted as the villain and was resigned to the fact that now was the time to defend myself publicly before both mine and my brother in laws worst fears came true and my bottom line started being affected by the bad publicity.
All that despite the fact that I hadn't done anything wrong. And that was what really pissed me off. The deal I'd signed was a good one. It was going to help hundreds if not thousands of people and still Jake attempted to use it to ruin me.
I heard the buzzer go for the front gate and sighed. The fucking press had been pressing it at regular intervals since I'd arrived home an hour prior. I was almost ready to turn the hose on the fuckers.
I took my now empty coffee mug with me downstairs to get a refill and to ask Seth if there was anything we could legally do to get the mongrels to stop pushing the gate bell. He was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs.
"Can't we stop that?" I asked, nodding towards the direction of the street.
"Wasn't the press that time. Incoming," he said stiffly.
"Who is it?" I asked as I went into the kitchen to get more coffee.
"You'll see," he called from the foyer.
I heard a car door slam, the crunch of quickly moving feet on the gravel outside and then the front door open and quickly close.
"Edward?" I hear shouted from the foyer.
I knew that voice. I ditched my cup and ran.
She stood just inside the door flanked by Seth and Jared and she had a folded copy of the Financial Review in her hand. She waved it at me as she spoke.
"Is it true?" she asked hurriedly. I looked at Seth but before I could reply she waved the paper again and advanced on me. "You don't look to them," she hissed. "You look at me. Is it true?" she asked again.
"Some of it," I admit.
"Which bits?" she asks as she slaps me in the chest with the paper.
I didn't know how to answer that simply. "The good bits," I hedge.
"There's good bits in that drivel?" she seethes, pointing to the paper I now held in my hand. "Because I didn't read any good bits."
"I can explain," I plead.
"You bet your ass you're going to explain," she hisses as she drops her backpack at her feet. "I need to pee and I need a beer and then when I've got one you're going to walk me through it. Slowly. Right?" she asks.
Both Seth and Jared twitter and I throw them both the evil eye. They shut up quick. "Bugger off," I tell them and they scurry past us, through the arch and hopefully down all the stairs they could find. I stare down at the magnificent creature before me and thank my lucky stars that she was there – even though she was seriously pissed off – and giving me the chance to defend myself.
"Right?" she asks again, probably sick of waiting for me to answer her.
"Right," I agree. "I'll get the beer and be in my office."
"Damn straight you will be," she mutters darkly as she goes down the hall towards the guest bedroom and its bathroom.
I run, yes run, down to the bar and pull two beer bottles from the fridge there. Then I run, yes run, back up to the main floor, up the stairs and into my office. I knock the tops off both bottles, set them onto the desk, swipe all the paperwork off its surface into a pile and throw that on the floor beside my chair. I open her copy of the paper and crane my neck as I prepare for her.
I'm sitting in my chair waiting for her when she gets there.
She accepts the beer from me with a soft thank you, takes a long swig and then points to the article. "Tell me about the deal. Start there," she says and I agree.
"Okay," I sigh. "Marcus McDonald is a steel broker that I've dealt with a hundred times. He approached me six months ago with a proposal to supply stainless steel to an Asian company that makes surgical instruments."
"So he's the middle man?" she asks and I nod.
"He is. In this case he represented the buyer to find the right supplier, but at other times I'll ask him to find me a buyer if I have a surplus I need to offload or something that's been produced as a by product of the steel smelting process. He takes a cut of the final price, no matter who he's representing, as his fee for matching the buyer and seller together. Very standard. I deal with hundreds of brokers."
"So it's not Marcus, or the broker, who decides whether the deals a good one. He's just the guy who finds a buyer or a seller, depending on who's hired him?" she asks.
"Exactly," I tell her proudly. "This deal itself is a simple one. The buyer worked alongside Doctors without Borders and a portion of the instruments made were to be given, free of charge, to that organisation. They never told me that was what they planned to do but once I found out I lowered the price of the steel."
"Because of the Doctors without Borders arrangement?" she asks.
"Yes," I say simply. "I liked the idea that some of what I produced would go to helping others instead of making men like me even more rich than we already are."
"That's a good thing," she says softly.
"I thought so too, at first," I agree. "And had the original sale contract documents had the lower price on them from the start none of this would've happened," I sigh.
"That's where I get stuck," she says as she leans over the desk a little. "How did such a good thing turn into this mess?"
"The law says that I have to disclose who I'm selling to if they are an overseas company," I tell her, pulling one of the documents from the pile beside my chair. I slide it across the table and point to the relevant piece of legislation. "There are whole offices full of faceless men in suits who sift through these contracts looking for signs of impropriety. Their sole focus is to catch guys like me selling seemingly innocuous materials to overseas companies who use them for no good."
"But your steel was going to make surgical instruments," she defends. "How is that using the steel for no good?"
"It isn't," I agree. "And that's exactly what the steel is going to be used for. Surgical instrumentation. And I can prove that," I tell her as I put yet another piece of paper in front of her. I give her a minute to read it and then continue. "The last little pieces of the deal were hammered out the first night you stayed here. That conference call was to confirm that all the contracts were in order and for the transfer of the deed of sale to be completed."
"So where did Jake get the idea that your steel is going to be turned into guns?" she asks.
"Out of his ass as usual," I mutter darkly. "As I said before, if the lowered price on the contracts had've been the only price on the contracts he wouldn't have even known I was selling to this group. But it wasn't. We changed the price at the last minute and that raised a red flag in one of those offices full of those faceless little men."
"They looked into the deal more closely," she correctly deduces.
"Yes, they did," I confirm. "And that's fine because there's nothing shady about the deal at all. Alec, my head of finance, had all the correct forms and paperwork filled out and Alistair, the lawyer you met today, was well within the law to change the contract sale price as he did. It happens a lot when you're dealing with something that has to be pulled from the ground. Prices go up and down; contracts get changed at the last minute."
"So how did Jake make the leap between a changed contract price and you funding an arms race?"
"Because one of the directors of the buying company was stood down yesterday for publicly announcing his support for a group of rebels hell bent on overthrowing his government," I sigh.
"Fucking hell," she whistles. I watch her take a good, long gulp of her beer as she mulls over what I've said. She reaches forward for the newspaper and pulls it closer. "Surely that's libellous?" she asks, pointing to the bit where Jake insinuated that in selling the steel so cheaply to a company with a director who was a known sympathiser with illegal rebel forces I was throwing my support behind a coup.
"Damn straight it is," I tell her. "My personal lawyer is filing that with the courts as we speak."
"Good," is her only reply.
"I would never..." I begin but she holds up her hand for me to stop.
"I know that," she scoffs. "Jesus Edward, if I had even one percent of doubt about any of this, or you, I'd already be on a plane to Hawaii never to be seen again."
"Hawaii?" I asked, eyebrows raised.
"I've never been anywhere and I like the idea of the beaches," she shrugs, "but that's not the issue here."
"I'm so sorry," I tell her sadly.
"For what? Doing a humanitarian thing? For selling steel cheaply to help people? Oh yeah, you're a real bastard," she says sarcastically.
"No, not for that," I tell her. "For once again dragging your name into the mud alongside mine."
She laughs softly and runs her finger along the paper. "The former Equity Steel employees, now Cullen Enterprises employees, may begin to question just what the fun fair they attended last weekend was really designed to do," she reads verbatim from the article.
"The fair was coordinated and hosted at short notice by Isabella Swan, 26, the sister of Swan Catering and Events owner and operator Jasper Swan. Miss Swan is the former fiancé of Jacob Black - spokesperson for the National Conservation League and an outspoken opponent to the acquisition of Equity Steel by the larger conglomerate Cullen Enterprises – and is believed to be currently residing with Cullen Enterprises founder Edward Cullen, 37.
"Miss Swan has since left the employ of her brother and is currently enrolled in an Accountancy course at the University of Sydney," she reads. "What mud?" she asks me as she looks up from the paper. "Everything they printed about me is true."
I smile back, pleased that she isn't upset by any of it and giddy because she's just confirmed that we are basically living together.
"Keep reading," I ask of her as I rub at my stinging eyes. "There's implied mud in there and it pisses me off."
"Go and take your contacts out," she says firmly.
"I might need to make a statement later," I inform her, to which she raises her eyebrows. "It's time," I say simply.
"The time was years ago," she mumbles before drinking the last bit of her beer. "Go and take your contacts out, I'll grab us another beer each and then I'll keep reading. To find the implied mud," she laughs.
"I can't have another drink if I have to make a statement," I tell her as I get to my feet.
"Oh for Christ's sakes, Edward," she snarls, "you've just basically been called a rebel sympathiser! I think you have the right to unwind a bit, don't you?"
"Pour me a scotch then," I chuckle before kissing her on the top of her head and leaving the office.
BPOV
As soon as he was gone I was off. Running down the stairs two at a time, skidding across the wooden floors in the kitchen. Through the arch, down the stairs, down another set of stairs and then I bash on the only door at the end of a short hall.
Seth opened it, took one look at me there with my finger to my lips to tell him to be quiet, and then he ushered me inside, shutting the door behind me.
"I need a favour," I tell him quietly.
"He can't hear you down here," he tells me with a wink.
"Good," I mumble, still trying to catch my breath from the running. "I need you to get Jake Black over here."
He eyes me cautiously, studying my face carefully. "I'm owed a lot of favours in this town but hiding a body isn't one of them," he says without the hint of it being a joke.
I shudder at the thought of what he was really capable off then shook my head. "No, god Seth, you scare the shit out of me sometimes," I tell him. "I want him to come here so that I can find out what the fuck he's playing at and why."
"You think this new story is linked to what Tanya's trying to pull?" he asks.
"No idea but I'd like to find out. Maybe it's not linked. After all, Jake's hated Edward for a decade so this might just be his latest attempt to get under his skin. But if they two things are linked I want to know. Don't you?"
"I do," he agrees. "Jared!" he calls and when the younger guy sticks his head around the corner he gives him the nod that they were going on a jaunt. "Tell the boss we're going out for a meeting. He won't ask what meeting. But tell him he's to stay indoors, and so are you."
"Deal," I tell him thankfully.
"If I can convince him to come here I need your word that there won't be any violence. He'd love that and there's not a thing I can do about him going to the press with the story if he leaves here with a black eye."
"I give you my word. And I'll do my best to stop Edward hitting him too," I agree.
"You know, if he comes here, he'll use the visit to his own advantage at some point, right?" Jared pipes up.
"I know. But it might be worth it to get some answers," I shrug.
"Worth a shot," Seth agrees. "Alright. You get upstairs before he twigs that you're down here. We'll be back as soon as we can."
I run back up the stairs, grab a beer for myself and pour Edward a glass of scotch and then I dash back up the stairs to the office.
He's already there. His glasses are back on his nose and he's got that nose buried in a stack of pages. I set his glass by his hand and sit back down opposite the desk.
"This is what pisses me off most about shit like this," he hisses and begins to read from the article. "Sources report that employees were promised that their jobs were safe by CEO of Cullen Enterprises Edward Cullen, but warned that retooling of machines, upgrades and restructuring of their processes was required to make the smelting works more competitive. Who the fuck is the source?" he hisses before continuing reading.
"There are no plans or publicly available information about what specific retooling will be conducted. That's bullshit for a start. I have to provide those plans, and all the specifics, to the government before I'm allowed to lift a finger.
"Cullen is notoriously tight lipped about his in house processes but the documents must now be made public in order for Mr Cullen to prove he isn't having innocent Australian steel workers producing stainless steel for use in weapons construction. Of course I'm tight lipped about processes," he snarls. "The technology changes so fucking fast in these places that every one of my competitors is trying to stay ahead of me!"
"Does the law say you have to provide the plans for processes, or just retooling?" I ask.
"Both. And I do. And I have. Listen to this bit," he growls. "A source close to Mr Cullen reported that in his welcome speech to the former Equity Steel employees at the weekend his intention to double the output of the factory, to double the size of the workforce by the end of the financial year was met with cheers. Has to be from the original journalist. Bastard," he hissed.
I reach for the paper then, taking a turn to read out the pieces of the article that piss me off the most. "This begs the question: Is there a correlation between Edward Cullen's deadline to increase output at the former Equity Steel site and the timeline the rebel forces have set down to topple their government? Who begged that fucking question? It's like asking is there a correlation between Donald Trump's hair and global warming," I snort indelicately. "How the hell do they come to the conclusion that you vaguely mentioning making the Gladstone plant viable by the end of the financial year is parallel to some group of militant, extremist rebels wanting to seize control of their government?" I ask.
"I know, right?" he seethes, though his choice of language makes him seem a lot younger than he is, and hotter than should be legal. "How the fuck would I know when a rebel group is planning to instigate a coup? In a country I don't live in? Using weapons I know nothing about?"
"This last bit makes me want to smack someone," I growl. "Jake is quoted in this bit," I tell him before running my finger along the lines to find the bit I want. "Here. An independent enquiry should be held to establish any possible links Mr Cullen, and in turn Cullen Enterprises, has with directors of companies whose interests lie with anti government organisations, Mr Black stated when asked for direct comment. God he's such an asshole," I hiss.
"Alistair said something interesting about that this morning," he tells me with a grin. "He said if I buy a sack of potato's from a supermarket, take them home and make a still to turn them into vodka and that still blows up in my face and I'm injured, can I sue the supermarket for supplying the potato's?"
He's posed it as a question to me so I think on it a second. "Of course you can't," I guess. "But I'm a student accountant, not a student lawyer," I point out.
"It's not a question of the law, its common sense," he grins. "And that you have in spades."
"Smooth, Cullen," I tease, "You're so fucking smooth."
"I was a coward," he says quietly, his tone and mood shifting perceivably.
"When?" I ask before taking another sip from my beer.
"This morning. When I read the article I thought you'd ditch me. I was convinced that you'd never let me explain and I'd have lost you."
"I told you, you kissed me, my reputation as an innocent, virginal princess is now kaput," I shrug cheekily. "You're stuck with me now I'm afraid, although you might not be too pleased with me shortly."
"How so?" he asks, cocking his head to the side and eyeing me carefully. I'd timed my confession perfectly. A bell went off somewhere and he flinched. "Fucking gate buzzer. The press has been pushing on it all afternoon."
"That might be Seth and Jared coming back," I say very carefully.
"Coming back from where?" he asks slowly.
"An errand," I hedge.
"Are they bringing pizza?" he asks but there's no smile on his face.
"No, I hope they're bringing a dirty, rotten bastard," I tell him through gritted teeth.
EPOV
I stared at her across the desk and wondered what the fuck I'd gotten myself into getting mixed up with her. Since I'd been introduced to her I'd thought it was me being bad for her but just then, when I put two and two together and realised what it was she was telling me, I thought that just maybe she might be bad for me.
"Tell me you did not invite Jacob Black to my home, Isabella," I pled as I lowered my head into my hands and rubbed my temples.
"I didn't," she said very quietly. "I sent Seth and Jared to collect him. I didn't invite him. I demanded he appear."
I look through my crisscrossed fingers at her and see that she's grinning. She's fucking insane I think as I take a deep breath and sit up in my seat.
"You ordered my men to collect my enemy and bring him to my private residence?" I asked, still not quite sure why I hadn't kicked her out on her ass yet.
"I did," she said frankly. "And before you start yelling, or throw something," she said with a scowl, "hear me out."
"I'm listening but you haven't got long," I tell her as I hear the front door close.
"We want answers and he's got them. I know he has. I'd recognise his stink on something like what's happening to us a mile away. He fooled me when I went to see him with Jasper, but I know that this article is only the tip of his involvement.
"And, I asked the guys to bring him here because there's no CCTV, no recording devices, you can close every door, every blind and you can have this out naked, with the lights turned off if you want and the press will never know what was said and done here," she said seriously, even though she'd just thrown my own words back in my face rather cheekily.
I stare at her for a moment and consider what she's said. It's a good plan I just don't want to admit it. "Fine," I tell her. "But if the story that accompanies the pictures the press just got of him walking up my driveway says we're best friends now, or colluding on something shady I'm going to kick his ass, then yours," I warn.
"Oooh, Mr Cullen," she purrs as she gets to her feet and comes around my side of the desk. "Does that mean you'll spank me if I'm naughty?" she giggles as she turns my chair to face her and then settles herself across my lap. "Don't pout," she whispers against my lips before kissing me softly. "Please don't be angry with me. I just want this over with so we can get on with whatever this is between us," she whispers before licking my bottom lip.
"What is this between us?" I moan as she kisses her way from my lips to my ear.
"Perfect," she purrs into my ear and I feel my entire body shudder beneath her.
"You're the devil," I tell her as I take her face into my palms and pull her mouth to mine roughly. "And I am angry at you, but I'll forgive you if this goes well," I tell her as I stand, taking her with me, and putting her back on her feet.
The knock sounds at the door and I feel her hand slip into mine at my side. "I promised Seth there wouldn't be any violence," she whispers and I jolt.
"Shit," is all I've got time to utter as the doors to my office open and Seth ushers Jake into my personal space.
I hadn't actually laid eyes on the prick in years, probably a decade actually. He looked older but the same. His suit was classic black and his hair was slicked back like it had been all those years ago.
"Cullen," he sneered as he came to stand opposite my desk.
"Black," I sneered back and felt Isabella squeeze my hand hard. "What?" I ask as quietly as I can, "you said no violence you didn't say I had to be nice."
"Mr Cullen?" Seth asks as he stands by the door.
I understand his formality and what he's asking. "I'll call you," I tell him as I take my seat and Isabella moves around my desk and tugs on a chair until she's sitting at the side of the desk. "Have a seat," I tell Jake.
"You're looking good, Bell's," he smiles and I want to punch his face in for addressing her in any way.
"It's Isabella," she says, her voice polite but her expression warning and I suppress a smile as best I can.
"That's out the way," he sneers. "Now, what do you want?" he asks me.
"Answers," I tell him as I slide the paper across the desk and stab at the article with my finger. "You and I both know this is all bullshit. We also both know I can prove it. So the question is, Jake, what do you want?"
He sits back and steeples his fingers in his lap. "I don't know its bullshit. I was just relaying what I'd been told in confidence."
"By whom?" Isabella asks before I can.
"I cannot reveal their names," he grins, his teeth gleaming, making him look like a sinister mob boss in his black suit. "It would be unethical of me to divulge my source, you understand."
"I'm surprised you know what ethics are," Isabella mutters.
"What is it you want from me?" I ask again.
He balks minutely but I catch it. "You have nothing I want," he sneers, barely concealing his glance at Isabella.
"I doubt that very much," I mutter in response but press on. "How did you know about the director being stood down before I did?"
"A reliable source told me."
"When?"
"Obviously before yours told you," he grins.
"I wasn't told at all because I didn't need to be. The director being fired is nothing to do with this deal, Jake, and you know it."
"You don't think the public, and the office of Fair Trade, don't need to know that a director of a company you're exporting to is involved in an underground rebellion?" he asks.
"I have no problem with anyone knowing that information," I tell him honestly and see the fire go out of his eyes just a little at the revelation. "You see," I say as I lean forward a little, "I'm all for public disclosure. I have no problem with it because I don't do anything illegal and I never will.
"So no, I'm happy that the public and Fair Trade office are aware of the directors association with a rebel faction because it means absolutely nothing to me. Nor does it have anything to do with the deal I brokered. I'm sure every company in every country on the planet has someone who sympathises with one group or another, no matter their cause.
"It's called free will, Jake. He was stood down. Not by me or any government agency but by his own company. So it's all out there as a matter of public record now."
"A fine argument," he concedes, still grinning. "You'd have made a fine lawyer. I always thought so," he laughs. "So if you can prove that your deal is legitimate you've got nothing to worry about. You'll be investigated and cleared if you're right so what am I doing here?"
"What is your problem with me personally?" I ask out of the blue.
I catch the muscle beside his right eye twitch but as soon as it does he recovers and sits up to smooth down his tie before answering. "I don't have a problem with you personally," he says evenly.
"You've spent the last ten years dogging me," I point out as calmly as I can.
"I'm just doing my job," he shrugs.
"No Jake, you've spent the last ten years dogging me personally. Not professionally. Why?" I demand.
"Your ego knows no bounds," he sneers.
"He's right," Isabella says firmly. "The whole time we were together you never had a nice word to say about him. And it was never professional, it was personal. Why Jake?" she pleads.
He gets to his feet then. Maybe to hide his reaction to her words, maybe to give himself some thinking time, I wasn't sure which. Isabella raised her eyebrows at me and then we both watched him move to the windows, lace his hands behind his back and stare outside.
He's so tall now I find myself thinking. When I knew him, before he decided he hated me, he'd been just a kid, like me. Gangly and awkward with his height just like I was. But now he was tall and lean and his suit was expensive and tailor made.
His shoes were Italian leather and shined to a mirror finish.
The mandarin collar on his shirt was starched and stood up perfectly despite it being more than halfway through the business day.
I looked at his hands still clasped behind his back and noted that his fingernails were polished. Clear varnish made them shine in the stream of sunlight coming in from the west.
I try and remember how he was at university and one image stuck out in my mind. A quiet, russet skinned boy with a girl in his arms, hidden away in a dark corner of a party. He had been kissing her passionately but he was staring at me as he did so.
I had always assumed that he'd been staring at me in triumph. That it was him kissing her, not me.
He turned then. Stared at first me and then Isabella for just a moment and then strode back to the chair opposite the desk.
I watched him straighten his cuffs and just then, after years of speculation and theory it all clicked. I got it. I understood him and what he was about.
"How long?" I asked, out of the blue, but he heard me.
"How long what?" he snarled as he straightened in the chair.
"How long have you known Tanya Denali?" I asked as calmly as I could.
He did well to try and hide his reaction to the name but I caught the split second of recognition on his face before he replied.
"Never heard of her," he said, teeth gleaming, game face back firmly in place.
"Oh come now," I scoffed. "Stupid doesn't suit you. Did you meet her while we were still at uni or is it more recent than that? After Isabella left you maybe?" I asked.
"What are you talking about?" Isabella asked.
I knew she wouldn't understand what I was getting at and right then I thought that might be a good thing. If my epiphany proved true this was quite possibly going to be very embarrassing for all three of us.
"Jake?" I nudged.
He stared at us both in turn for a moment and then turned back to me. "A long time," he muttered.
"Does she know?" I asked plainly and I saw him stiffen just slightly.
"Does she know what?" he asked, playing dumb again.
"This will take all day if you keep repeating my questions to buy yourself time to answer and I'm a busy man," I snarl. "Does she know that you're planning to shaft her at the end?"
"I wouldn't shaft her with your..." he hissed before catching himself from tacking 'dick' on the end, and I knew then that I was right.
"What's going on?" Isabella asked as she looked between us.
"Jake has been working with Tanya in all this," I tell her simply. "Isn't that right, Jake?" I ask but don't bother waiting for him to deny it. His guilt was now plain for me to see. "But he's not interested in the terms as originally set out, are you Jake? His plan was to use her for his own end and once she'd done all the dirty work he could swoop in and claim his prize."
"That's a lie," he raged but the sting had gone out of him.
"I don't understand," Isabella said quietly as she watched the same panic flit across Jake's face as I did. "Do you know Tanya?" she asked him flat out. His nod was minute. "Are you helping her to do this to Edward?" she asked.
"No," he hissed. "I'm helping her do this to you," he spat.
I wanted to smile to myself because I'd been right but even I could see how much this next part was going to hurt Isabella so I kept my features as neutral as possible.
"Why?" she asked, predictably. "We were together before, Jake. You had me, we were going to be married and we were happy for a long, long time. You fucked our relationship up Jake. You. Not me. So if you're helping her to do this to me so that we'll get back together you've got fucking rocks in your head," she said defiantly.
I was so proud of her but also desperately sorry for what she was about to learn. I watched Jake's face and knew that he was about to punch another hole in her self esteem but there was nothing I could do about it, it had to happen.
"I don't want you," he hissed.
"Then why are you helping her do this? I know you don't like him but I never understood why. Why does it help you, to help her?" she asked and it was a logical assumption to make. She assumed he was helping so Tanya could have me and Jake himself could have her. Unfortunately she was wrong.
"She wants him," he snarled, tossing his head in my direction.
"I don't understand," Isabella told him, her brows creased deeply. "If you don't want me, but she wants him, why are you helping her? What's in it for you to help her get Edward?" she asked again.
"She can't have him," Jake hissed and then his eyes got very, very wide when he realised what he'd said.
I watched, helpless, as Isabella joined the dots. She was so clever it didn't take but a moment. "Oh my god," she whimpered as she covered her mouth with her hand. "It's you," she whispered to him. "You want him. For yourself. Oh my god. You're helping her because she wants Edward, but you want him too. You're planning to double cross her."
"That's a fucking lie," he bellowed as he got to his feet. "You're a fucking lying whore," he roared.
"Watch it," I warned as I too stood. "You watch your language and you check your temper," I tell him. "It's not a lie. You tell her the truth or I will," I warn.
The fight went out of him then. Whether it was my warning or that Isabella hadn't cowered from him like she used to I couldn't be sure. But whatever it was he knew he was beat.
"Fuck," he hissed and turned his back on us both.
"Tell me," Isabella demanded while I retook my seat.
"I've known her as long as you have," he said quietly and I took that to mean me, as Isabella had never met Tanya before the altercation at her apartment.
"I don't remember you from that far back," I tell him, thinking back on my childhood for some scrap of memory that I could place him in before university.
"I know," he said almost sadly, I thought. "You never saw me. You always looked right through me," he said as he turned back around. "You and your posh friends never noticed the poor, scrawny black kid."
"But you introduced yourself to me the first day of classes at university," I remind him. "I remember it."
"My mother was a teacher at our high school," he almost whimpers. "I was allowed to go there cheap because she was a teacher there," he says. "You never saw me. You never spoke to me. You never saw me," he repeated as though he'd lost control of his thought processes.
I could see the pain on his face but he was right, I'd never noticed him. I didn't remember him from high school, just university. "Okay, so I didn't see you or speak to you, I don't remember Tanya doing either of those things either," I point out.
"I hate that fucking bitch," he hissed and I didn't blame him.
I tried not to outright hate anyone but Tanya was a special case. "She paid me to tutor her all through the eleventh and twelfth grades," he says, eyes blazing. "You were much, much smarter than she was but she was determined to get into the same schools as you so she paid me, the invisible one, to help her get into your classes. I made a fortune off her," he laughed coldly as though he'd had a significant win making money off a girl as desperate for my attention as he was.
"She wasn't dumb, just unfocused," he conceded. "And totally obsessed with you," he hissed, pointing squarely at me. "I figured by helping her I could help myself get into university because she really did pay well, that trust fund of hers was huge," he chuckled darkly.
"So I tutored her, got her good enough grades to get into your school and I did the same. You went on your family's dollar, I went on hers," he grinned. "Some of the best work I ever did had her name printed on the top when she handed it in as hers," he laughs. "I should petition the university to give me a second degree, I fucking earned one doing all her work."
"That's fucked up," Isabella mumbled but I doubted Jake heard her he was so lost to his own memories.
"I did introduce myself to you on the first day of classes," he agrees smiling wistfully. "I figured we were finally on equal footing, you and me. A new start. Old alliances lost, small fishes in the big pond again. But nothing changed," he growled. "You still didn't fucking notice me!"
"We only had one class together," I counter. "And there were a hundred of us in it."
"And you were brilliant in it," he whispers and I cringe. It seemed a little creepy to be complimented by him now, now that I'd worked out what his angle was. "But Tanya struggled with it, she never did quite grasp the fundamentals of the law," he grinned but this time it was sinister.
"You did though," I spat, thinking about how he'd done his level best to drop me in it over the Asia deal.
"Yeah," he grinned, "I am quite good at it, aren't I?"
"You kept tutoring her?" Isabella asked, and I wanted to thank her for diverting the conversation away from that.
"Yeah, she had money to burn and she was desperate to stay in that class with him," he said nodding towards me. "So I took her money and I got her through that class. And then she dropped a bomb on me. She told me that the two of you were going to get married after graduating. That you were betrothed to her," he said as though it was a nasty word.
"It was lies," Isabella whispers in my defence.
"I know that now," he spits. "The stupid fucking bitch is psychotic," he said, telling me something I already knew. "But I believed her back then because I had no reason not to and it sounded like something your uppity, snotty families would do."
"This isn't the eighteenth century," I tell him with roll of my eyes for good measure.
"Yeah, well, I believed it back then."
"You stopped helping her, didn't you?" I ask, joining more dots in my head. "She failed that class, and a couple of others too, and she dropped out of school before I graduated."
He laughed then. "Yeah, she couldn't cut it on her own and she was not amused when I pulled the plug."
"But you're helping her again now," Isabella pointed out.
"Two birds, one stone," he shrugged.
"How so?" she asked before I could.
"Oh come on Bella, you're smarter than this," he said patronisingly.
"You were a tool," I tell her gently, sorry that I had to point it out so brutally. She cocks her head to the side and I watch as realisation dawns on her sad face. "I'm sorry," I tell her softly.
"I know you are," she whispers, gracing me with a magnificent smile before turning back to Jake. "You're gay," she says to him matter of factly, making him cringe as though he were ashamed of it. "You used me to see if you could be straight. You used me to get yourself into the League because you needed a wife and a family."
"Prove it," he grinned smugly.
"I don't need to," she grins back instantly. "You mean nothing to me. It doesn't matter to me if you are or aren't gay and it doesn't matter to me if you're in the League or not. I've got everything I want and need right here," she says, sweeping her hand towards me.
I can't help the smug grin on my face then. She was magnificent and I'd won.
"Why didn't you see me?" Jake asked of me then, very quietly.
"I didn't see you when we were younger because I was an egotistical, self absorbed teenager. Just like every other guy you went to school with," I tell him straight up. "I didn't see you at university because we only had one class together, didn't socialise in the same groups and you needled me in that class and publicly any chance you got.
"Which is why I don't care to see you now, by the way. To me you're just a buzzing gnat that bothers me sometimes. I enjoy swatting you back and you enjoy antagonising me in the press any chance you get."
"It's to get your fucking attention!" he roars.
"Message received," I snarl at him. "I'm not a homophobe, Jake," I tell him sincerely because I wasn't. "If you'd have told me you were gay, or gave me some indication that you liked me that way, I could've told you that I was straight and we could've moved on. Maybe we'd have been friends, who knows?" I shrug. "But you never said a word. You did your thing, I did mine."
"I saw you with women," he said very quietly and I cringed.
I'd never lied to Isabella, never told her I'd been celibate, and like all young men I'd had my fair share of dates, but I didn't want to rub her nose in that. I also knew that Jake would enjoy hurting her with it. So I told it my way before he could tell it his.
"Of course you did," I tell him calmly. "I was a normal university student. I dated. I slept with women. But you never told me you were gay, or that you were interested in me, so I won't apologise if it upset you that I had relationships with women."
"I watched you with them. I watched you date them and toss them aside. I watched you let them crawl all over you and touch you," he shouted as though it was wrong of me to be touched by a woman.
"I didn't toss anyone aside, Jake," I sigh, trying to keep things calm. "I went on dates with women and for whatever reasons at the time we didn't gel so we broke up. That's normal. Again, I won't apologise if that upset you because I had no idea that it did and really it wasn't any of your business. And it isn't any of your business now," I remind him.
"I dated them all after you were done with them," he mutters and I cringe again.
"That's sick," Isabella hisses and I agree.
"It was the only way I could feel close to you," he stammers. "To take your discarded toys," he grins, to himself mostly, I hope.
"That's disgusting," I tell him. "But it doesn't matter now, I've found who I want," I say firmly.
"You always get what you want," he whines.
"Because I'm willing to work hard for it," I roar, fed up to the back teeth with his self deprecating. "I don't really give a fuck about things that happened fifteen years ago, Jake. I care that you're consorting with Tanya to fucking ruin me in the press!"
"I never wanted to ruin you!" he roars right back at me. "I just wanted to get your fucking attention! Christ," he swears as he begins to pace. "Why haven't you been listening to me? I don't want to ruin you. I love you! I always have! I love that you're so successful but I want to be a part of it with you. I'm proud of you. You've achieved so much, come so far. I've followed every move you've made since graduation. I've watched you rise and rise and you never once took any notice of me!
"You never even made a statement. In all the years I've been baiting you, just waiting and hoping that you'd call me, ask me why I kept hammering away at you in the press, you never said a fucking word!
"You have any idea how frustrating that's been?" he asked as his pacing sped up. "To keep working as hard as I have been to find things to get into print just to get you to call me on it? Just with the hope that you'd fight back and give me the chance I needed to meet with you?
"But you never once said a fucking thing. You never defended yourself. You never said a bad word about me in the press in retaliation and that just made me want you more!
"And then she came along," he sneered in Isabella's direction, "And suddenly I'm worthy of a meeting."
"That's enough," I say as calmly as I can manage under the circumstances. "I've heard enough," I tell him firmly. "I don't think there is anything left for us to talk about, Jake. We're done here. In fact, we're done everywhere," I say matter of factly.
"But..." he stammers, moving slightly towards me, hands out in front of himself.
"No buts," I tell him. "You need to leave now. You'll hear from my lawyer soon enough," I tell him whilst pressing the concealed alarm button under the lip of my desk. I didn't fear him but I wanted him gone now and pressing the button was the quickest way to get Seth in here. I had my answers, I knew why now, so now he had to leave.
"It's not illegal to be gay," he protests and once again I know that he's smarter than that, he's just reeling from being made to admit it to me and to Isabella and because having done so he'd gotten nowhere.
"I know it isn't," I say quietly, wanting him gone and the meeting over now. "But we have nothing more to say to each other," I tell him, sweeping my hand outwards to include Isabella in the statement as I got to my feet. "And as we're going to be on opposite sides of a courtroom fairly soon I don't think it's a good idea for you to still be here."
"You're suing me?" he asked, his eyebrows raised. "What for?"
"You didn't think you could tell the press that he's funding an international militia and not be expected to be sued for the lie, did you?" Isabella laughs, though it's forced. She comes to me, stands at my side, and slips her hand into mine with a squeeze.
"You'll lose," he warns me, grinning now. "I chose my words very carefully when I made that statement. Tanya might have failed that class but as you so carefully pointed out earlier, I didn't."
"I don't care if I lose," I tell him matter of factly, grinning myself now. "I'm so wealthy I can afford to lose, pay my lawyer, and yours, your costs and whatever settlement deemed appropriate by a judge and do it all with a smile on my face, just to watch you explain to that judge what your vendetta is all about."
"You can't use someone's sexual orientation to prove yourself in a libel lawsuit," he quips, probably convinced he had me.
"I passed that class too, Jake," I laugh. "I don't need to use your sexual orientation to prove my case. I'm not funding a militia and I can prove that. But I will mention that you're gay, make it clear that the reason you dog me at every turn is to get my attention, and that my rejection of you is the reason you continue to defame me publicly. Win or lose you spend the next ten years defending yourself in the press, not me."
I heard him mutter that I was a bastard at the same time as I heard the knock on my office door. I call for Seth to come in and he does, looking pretty intimidating in his black suit and tie.
"You're leaving, Mr Black," he says instantly to Jake. It wasn't a request. "Alright Bella?" he asks the lovely woman at my side who confirms that she's just fine. "I'll escort Mr Black to his office and be right back, Mr Cullen," he says formally to me as he holds the door open for Jake.
His parting words were meant to hurt her but once again he failed. "You don't deserve him," he hissed at her as he took up his briefcase and moved to the door Seth held.
"I know," she said sweetly before kissing me on the cheek. "I didn't deserve you either," she says, the irony dripping from her lips expertly.
A/N: Thank you for reading.
Please review.