Chapter 22

Bella

We returned from Cape Cod late on Labor Day, tanned and mostly relaxed. However, until Aro Volturi was taken care of, I knew we'd both remain on edge. The next day, I began my first, official day as one of Carlisle Cullen's Ph.D. students, and The Fox began his, as Deputy Head of Harvard Neurosciences.

"Good luck, Baby, not that you'll need it. You already know your stuff backwards," he murmured at the entrance to the women's locker room.

"Thanks, Foxy." I passed him the bag containing our lunches. He had a little fridge in his office in which to keep it cold. "Text me when you're free."

"Will do."

He bent his head and kissed me sweetly on the side of my mouth before leaving. I entered the locker room and put away my things. Just as I was about to head out, a petite girl, about my age, walked in, looking somewhat bewildered. She was fair, with straight, expensively highlighted, blonde hair tied in a high ponytail.

"Hello."

"Uh, hi," she replied, a little shyly.

"You have that wide-eyed 'holy crap, this place is big' look."

"It's huge," she agreed. "And, it's Harvard. I still can't quite believe I'm here."

"I remember that feeling."

"So, you've been here a while? Are you a doctoral student?"

"Yes, it's my first day with Professor Cullen, but I did an internship here last summer, and I've been here for a few weeks already, so I know my way around."

"Where did you do your undergrad?"

"Oxford."

"Cool. I love your British accent by the way. Reminds me of a summer spent in London a couple of years ago. I'm Mary Currie, but everyone calls me MJ."

Ah, so she was one of The Fox's two new PhD students.

"Nice to meet you, MJ. I'm Bella. Where did you do yours?" I asked as we shook hands. She seemed very sweet. Her eyes zeroed in on my engagement and wedding rings.

"Duke. Wow, those are gorgeous."

"Thanks."

"Have you been married long?"

"Just six weeks," I told her. I glanced at my watch. "I'd better get going. Hope Professor Masen's not too hard on you for your first day. He loves to pull out the questions on glutamate synthesis."

"Thanks for the tip off ... hang on, how did you know I was starting with Professor Masen? It was a last minute switch."

I shrugged.

"Insider knowledge."

She laughed.

"Of course, he comes from Oxford too."

"Right. See you around, MJ."

"See you, Bella."

The first morning passed without incident. Carlisle held a meeting for all his students and post-doctoral researchers to go over lab procedures. He gave us our welcome packs and research portfolios, introducing everyone and discussing the projects he was overseeing, including the new project on which I would be working. Carlisle had five PhD students in total.

There was Sam, who was in his final year, who was a friendly but serious Native American student. Sarah and Samantha were in their third year, and both studied part time, as they had responsibilities at home. The other first year was a Russian student named Irina, a tall, rather aloof-looking, slightly older blonde. I had met everyone before except Irina, who had apparently only arrived from St Petersburg a couple of days ago.

"This afternoon, I'll meet you on an individual basis to discuss your projects, so if you haven't already checked in today with my secretary for your slot, please do so now. Otherwise, the afternoon's yours."

I already knew my slot was at three o'clock, and it was barely midday, so I texted Edward to let him know that I would be in one of the reading rooms until he was free.

"Isabella? I can sit here?" I looked up to see Irina hovering. "We should get to know each other, yes?"

"Of course." I motioned for her to take a seat. "How are you finding Harvard so far?"

"It is quiet, compared to New York. I did Masters at Columbia," she replied, her accent an odd mix of Russian and American. "But I expect I will get used to it. It's better that Russia," she added, shuddering slightly, making me wonder exactly what her life had been like in her home country. "You went to Oxford?"

"That's right."

"I like England, but so small! No space."

"Very true."

We started talking about the PhD program. We would be expected to attend lectures and seminars daily, and as well as doing research in our supervisors' labs. We would also be spending time in other research labs to expand our practical, analytical and statistical skills. Irina and I agreed that we would need to form a study group with a couple of other first years, because at the end of our third semester, we would face Preliminary Examinations; if we didn't pass those, we were out. I thought of MJ; we had only met briefly, but she seemed like someone I could get on with quite well.

Half an hour or so later, my phone beeped with a text.

Hey Baby, free in around 5 mins. E x

"I'm going to meet my husband for lunch in a few minutes, Irina," I told her. "Maybe we could meet up later?"

"Da, that would be good. We should take each other's numbers."

After swapping numbers with Irina, I made my way to Edward's office. Shelly eyed me as I came in.

"He's still talking to his doctoral students, Mrs. Masen."

"No problem," I replied, giving her a saccharine-sweet smile. "And please, call me Bella."

"Hmm," she huffed, before turning her eyes back to her computer monitor.

I took a seat on the small bench outside Edward's office door and began going over some of the notes I had made during my conversation with Irina. A moment later, I heard The Fox's smooth voice through the door.

"Thanks, guys, and well done, both otherwise you of you on that glutamate synthesis quiz. Randall's expecting you at three in the lab; otherwise, you have a free afternoon. I'll see you in the lab at half past eight tomorrow."

"Thanks, Professor," I heard MJ say.

"Thanks, sir," said a male, strongly Boston-accented voice.

"Oh, that reminds me, please call me Edward. We're a 'first names' lab."

I had to hold back a snicker. Just one year ago, I would never, ever have imagined The Fox saying that. He had been so uptight.

At the sound of rustling paper and chairs scraping, I stood up. The door suddenly opened and before I could move out the way, a boy collided into me.

"Shit, sorry, chica!" His arms started to encircle me, and I recoiled.

"It's fine," I responded, moving away from him.

The guy was Latino, in his mid-twenties, tall and rather gangly, with black, smooth hair, tied in a ponytail, and dark brown eyes, which swept over my form. I could tell he meant nothing sinister, but it made me feel a little uncomfortable.

"Hi, my name's Nahuel. I'm new here."

"Hey, Bella," interjected MJ, coming up behind him.

"Hi, MJ, nice to see you again."

"Bella, as in Italian for 'beautiful?' Fitting."

"I've just come to have lunch with Edward." I nodded towards The Fox, who was hovering in his doorway, scowling slightly. Nahuel dragged his eyes away from me over to his new boss.

"Oh? You know Professor Masen?"

"That's one way of putting it." Edward opened his hand subtly and I flitted to his side. He wrapped his arm around my waist.

"I'm Isabella Masen, Edward's wife."

"You're married?" Nahuel's voice went up in pitch.

"That's right," replied Edward, slightly staring Nahuel down, daring him to say anything further on the matter.

"Great stuff," said MJ enthusiastically, giving us a warm smile. "Come on, Nahuel, I'm starving. Let's get lunch."

She turned to leave and Nahuel followed, looking somewhat bewildered. I followed Edward into the office and shut the door behind me.

"Damn, I liked that boy before he practically eye-fucked you."

"He's harmless, Edward. And I'm fairly sure the withering look you just gave him has firmly established that I am off limits," I told him, running my fingers through his hair as I stood on my tiptoes, pursing my lips expectantly.

"It better," he retorted, before finally giving me the kiss I was yearning for. "Hungry?"

"Yep."

He opened the fridge and pulled out the salad boxes I had made for us the previous night. We were splitting a low-fat tuna Niçoise salad, with watermelon for a dessert. We were on a healthy eating kick because, since arriving in the States, The Fox had gained four pounds, and I'd gained seven. I wasn't sure exactly why and it wasn't much, but we were feeling sluggish, me especially. We wanted to nip the problem in the bud before our clothes stopped fitting.

We chatted about our morning, and I told him about my plan to form a study group.

"I think four to six people at the most, but I haven't met anyone except Irina, MJ and now Nahuel ..."

"Who should prove he won't hit on you again before I'd be happy with you spending any length of time with him," The Fox interjected.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"It's my choice, Foxy."

"I realise that, Baby, but it's how I feel." He looked away sheepishly, and I stroked the side of his face.

"All I'm doing is considering my options for my study group from the people I've met so far. It's important that I have a productive one. If Nahuel, despite him hitting on me just now, proves to be someone I can study with effectively, I shouldn't close off that opportunity."

"I suppose."

"Besides, I'll probably meet plenty of other people I could study with at the drinks thing this Friday."

"What drinks thing?"

"Some of the final year PhD students in the faculty organise drinks for new first years. Sam mentioned it to me first, and there was a leaflet in my welcome pack. We meet in the lobby on Friday at half past five and go for Happy Hour at one of the bars on Mass Ave."

Edward stiffened a little and took a deep breath.

"Right." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What?"

"This was supposed to get easier when we got married."

"Edward?" I pressed.

"Bella, when we were in Oxford, and you used to spend time with your friends or flatmates, I would sit in the flat just seething with worry and jealousy. What if some varsity rower or some smooth, post ex-Eton posho, swept you off your feet? Or what if someone hurt you? I'd never, ever cope without you."

I started to respond, but he stopped me.

"I realise it was irrational; I knew you loved me, and of course, you married me, but the insecurity is still there, and try as I might, I can't shake it."

"Do you not want me to go?"

"Honestly, I don't, but I would never ask you not to go. You need to mix and mingle with your new peers. I trust you, Baby, implicitly. It's just every man out there that I don't trust."

"Why don't you come too?" I suggested.

"Bella, I'd love to, but I know from personal experience that students behave differently when one of the professors is in the vicinity. That's not fair to you. You should be able to get to know your new colleagues without them being on their best behaviour."

"So are we at an impasse?"

"No. You are going to go, and I'm going to play tennis with Carlisle. He wants to introduce me to some of his friends at the club."

"So, when we have dinner later that evening, we can talk about the new people we've met?"

"Absolutely."

I got up and crawled into his lap before brushing my lips across his. He grinned and held my chin to take our kiss deeper, to make it longer and to make my toes curl with delight.

"Mmm ..."

His hand had ghosted over my bum before he broke away with a sigh.

"As much as I would love to continue, Baby, I have a meeting with the Research and Ethics Committee soon. I need to register the next phase of research and add Nahuel and MJ as new researchers."

"That's okay, we can pick it up when we get home, although, one day in the not too distant future, you will be doing me over this desk, won't you, sir?"

His eyes became hooded, his expression almost predatory.

"I will indeed."

Edward

The week progressed and by Friday, I started to feel more settled in my new role. At the end of the day, students were students. MJ and Nahuel weren't any different to the ones I supervised in Oxford, except that they were more upbeat, less reserved and more open about their healthy, friendly competitive streaks. I had inherited my predecessor's technicians and I was in the process of recruiting new post-doctoral researchers, although that would take time; highly qualified clinical neuroscientists didn't exactly grow on trees.

I gave my first set of lectures, which went well, and much like MJ and Nahuel, the students weren't shy about asking questions and generating debate amongst themselves. I was also grateful that I'd gained some managerial experience last year at Oxford because taking on the role of Deputy Head of the Neurosciences department was no small feat.

Bella, as I expected, transitioned smoothly into her doctoral programme, even though it was much busier than being an undergraduate. She was getting on well with Carlisle's other PhD students, his researchers and technicians; they remembered her fondly from her internship and had re-embraced her into their folds.

My darling wife had also started planning her study group with Irina, MJ and much to my chagrin, Nahuel, whom MJ had brought into the mix. Bella reported that he had been nothing but respectful and he certainly acted with decorum when I was around. I was going to have to become better at dealing with my insecurities. I couldn't keep my wife chained to my side, after all. Nevertheless, she was my everything and I could not help but want to cosset and protect her.

Bella and her study group agreed to meet three times a week in the library, which I had thought excessive considering they were only in their first week. However, when Bella came home with, no word of a lie, a trolley case full of books and papers, I realised that she was gunning to be top of her class at Harvard, too.

The ringing of my office phone interrupted my reverie.

"Hi, Shelly."

"Hello, Professor, I have a Lucy Galveston on the phone. She wouldn't tell me why she was ringing, but she sounds quite upset."

It took a moment for me to realise exactly who Lucy Galveston was.

"Thanks, put her through."

"Hello? Is that Edward Masen?"

"Hello, yes it is. How are you Lucy, how's your mother?"

She sighed down the phone.

"Not so good, I'm afraid. She took a turn for the worse last night and the doctors think that even if she recovers, she'll need to go toa care facility."

"I'm terribly sorry to hear that. I never met Nettie myself, but Carlisle and Esme speak so highly of her, and their children adore her."

"That's sweet of you. Look, does that offer of taking Jake and Nessie still stand?"

"Yes, of course."

"Momloves them and I owe it to her to find them a good home, and that's not with me and my husband in DC. Those two need regular attention and space, and we travel so much ..."

I could tell she was worried, stressed and tired.

"I promise you that we would look after them, and shower them with love. Bella and I, we've both had dogs before, so we know how to take care of them. We're financially comfortable. We're in a rented house currently, but we will be buying one in the not-too-distant future. I have tenure here at Harvard."

"I have to confess, Edward, I already spoke to Carlisle. He said that I wouldn't find two people with more love in their hearts than you and your wife. But ..."

"I can understand your reticence. You don't know us." An idea popped into my head. "Why don't you bring Jake and Nessie for a visit this weekend? You can meet my wife properly, see where we live and we can talk things through so you can make a decision."

"That's a great idea."

The afternoon rolled around, and so did a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Bella would be going out for Happy Hour with the PhD students, which made me extremely nervous. At the same time, Carlisle and I had a meeting with the Vice-Chair of Public Affairs to discuss the emerging situation with Aro Volturi.

Amun El-Samir was a former law professor, who was Egyptian by origin, but grew up in the USA, and was around the same age as Carlisle. He was tall, suited and booted and had an air of someone used to being in charge, which immediately set me on edge.

After the initial pleasantries and offers of coffee, we sat down around a small meeting table.

"I'll get to the point. Any kind of accusation about the conduct of Harvard's staff is unwelcome. When a world-renowned neuroscientist uses credible media outlets to accuse our Head of Neuroscience of 'poaching' staffpersonnel and students from Oxford, Oxford of all places, it's a PR disaster ..."

I opened my mouth, but Amun El-Samir put his hand up to stop me, and continued speaking.

"Right now, I'd like to ask Professor Cullen some questions." He turned to a bewildered Carlisle.

"Professor Cullen ..."

"Hang on a minute, Amun. What the hell are you talking about—what accusation?"

El-Samir ignored him and carried on asking his question.

"Professor Cullen, did you or did you not approach Professor Masen for the role of Neurosciences Deputy Head?"

"I did, and I had the full backing of the Faculty to employ the person I thought would fit best with our department and our ethos. The Neurosciences world isn't a big one, Professor El-Samir, and when Jack Berty left for Stanford, to be closer to his daughter and grandchildren, Edward was the first person I thought of hiring."

"What exactly has been said?" I asked.

"I'll get to that," El-Samir said, eventually. "Please, continue telling me about how you came to be employed by Harvard."

"Carlisle approached me in May when he was in Oxford, and initially I declined because I was happy there. At that time, Oxford's Biological Sciences Faculty were considering whether to appoint Professor Aro Volturi from Cambridge into the role of Head of Neurosciences. It was a role that I, along with two trusted colleagues, had successfully filled for the whole of that academic year.

"When he was appointed, despite our protestations and concerns, we decided that our position was untenable, and so we gave in our notice. My colleagues took up positions at Kings' College in London, and I contacted Carlisle to see if his offer was still open, and it was."

"Why were you so unhappy to work with Aro Volturi? Was it just because you weren't going to be the boss anymore?"

"Not at all, although I felt able to run the department with my colleagues, I understood the Faculty's decision to appoint a more experienced professor to take on the role. But having worked with Aro Volturi before, I had serious issues with the way he practised, and didn't want to stay when he was appointed."

"What kind of 'serious issues?'"

"I believe university-based research should be governed by academics. Professor Volturi is well known to kowtow to whichever organisation pays him the most money, currently a major international pharmaceutical company. I treat my students as part of the research team, not as gophers or minions, and I credit them appropriately. Professor Volturi does not."

"That's a powerful statement. These were the reasons you did not wish to stay?"

"Yes. In the interest of being completely transparent, I should let you know that Volturi was my undergraduate dissertation supervisor. He published research of mine without crediting me, although I cannot prove it because of the lack of record keeping. But he knows it and I know it, and I'm sure you can understand that the friction between us would not make for a harmonious work environment."

"Hmm ..."

"So now, will you tell us exactly what's going on?"

"It seems that Aro Volturi was asked about your exodus ahead of his first day at Oxford, and he replied that it was part of a plan for Harvard and Kings College to undermine him. He stated that we had, and I quote, 'been complicit by tempting away an eminent professor and two capable but impressionable students.' As a result, an article is making its way into Bio-Science News Monthly."

"Shit."

El-Samir raised an eyebrow.

"You can understand that our office is less than impressed by this turn of events."

"Understand? If you feel even a fraction of what I feel, you're mad as hell."

"Let me see if I've got this right? You are basically telling me that Volturi is stirring up a crock of shit because of your history?"

Professor El-Samir's blunt words took me aback, but I nodded.

"In part."

"What about the students involved?"

"That's the other part of the story."

"Randall Smith?"

"It isn't unheard of for a doctoral student to move when his supervisor does," I explained. "Randall Smith's funding came from the same source as mine. If he stayed at Oxford, he would have had to change his supervisor, change project and apply for new funding. It was easier for him to transfer to Harvard and he had the grades to do so."

"And the other? Isabella Swan?"

"Isabella Swan did an internship with me the summer before her final undergraduate year at Oxford," explained Carlisle. "In all my years of tenure, I can count on one hand the number of students I've seen with as much aptitude as she has. You may recall that my department was recently awarded a major government grant?"

"Yes, we published the news in the Gazette."

"Well, it afforded me the ability to take on two new doctoral students, and I approached Isabella. Professor Volturi is fully aware of Isabella's abilities. He chose her to be his doctoral student at Oxford, but after initially declining my offer, she chose to accept it, thus rejecting the place on his team."

Carlisle glanced at me involuntarily for a split second and I was sure it did not go unnoticed by Amun El-Samir. It was quite clear that he knew that Bella was central to the plot. There was a loaded silence, which felt hours long, before the VC shuffled some papers in front of him.

"I contacted Aro Volturi this morning. I wanted to hear from the horse's mouth about his comments."

"And how did that go?" I asked, the knots in my stomach tightening again.

"He said that he might have been a little hasty in stating that Harvard was involved in your departure from Oxford, but he voiced some serious concerns about your conduct, Professor Masen."

"What concerns? My conduct record has been exemplary."

"He claims that you persuaded Isabella Swan to follow you to Harvard. That you seduced her. That you're not safe to be around young, impressionable women."

"What utter bullshit!"

"Edward, calm down." Carlisle put his hand on my shoulder. With great effort, I composed myself.

"Professor El-Samir, the only woman I am interested in is my wife, who I love with every fibre of my being. I was single for many years before I met her, and there was never any question about my conduct around students. Then she came along, turned my world upside down and now, I don't even see other women like that, regardless of their age."

"Your wife, of whom you speak so passionately, is Isabella Swan," he stated calmly, sitting back in his chair.

For the second time, Amun El-Samir took me by surprise.

"Yes, she is," I admitted quietly. "I suppose you found out from the Admissions Office? Bella, Isabella, I mean, informed them of our marriage at enrolment."

"Actually, Aro Volturi told me himself."

-cc-

AN:

Thank you so much for all your lovely messages and reviews. I'm sorry there's been such a delay in this next chapter. All I can say is that t's hard getting back to the swing of writing and posting regularly after so many months away.

CC xxx