Happy Saturday!
Thank you SO MUCH for all your reviews! I'm loving all of your theories ;-)
Usual disclaimer applies - I still don't own any of it. I just like to play with the characters ;-)
Team Momo wouldn't exist without Midnight Cougar and Alice's White Rabbit with their red pens, or without AGoodWitch, Driving Edward, Mel, Maplestyle, and Eternally Addicted who pre-read and tell me if I'm off my rocker or not. They also were nominated in the TFFA so remember to send them some love!
Today we're hearing from Bella.
Chapter 18 - BPOV
"Do you have time to go downstairs to LawBucks?" Edward asked.
He'd just stepped outside Rose's office. His uneasy smile, along with his earlier distress, told me something was afoot.
"Yes. Let me shoot Jasper an email so he'll know where to find me."
He nodded, and with his hand to the small of my back, he steered us toward the elevator bank. His touch, though always office-appropriate, still felt caring and, somehow, protective. He was laying claim in the subtlest of ways.
We climbed into the elevator with our noses buried in our respective phones, tapping away at the chaos that crawled in our email inboxes.
"When are you heading to Cornell?" I asked.
He normally flew to New York on Tuesdays, but this week, he'd had to reshuffle a few things around.
"Alice managed to book me on the early morning flight out of Hartsfield on Wednesday. I had to postpone a lecture, but I still get to be back home on Friday. Why?"
His rogue smile and the way his eyes sparkled with anticipation made me tingle all over.
"Stop distracting me at work, Mr. Cullen." My half-hearted rebuke flopped spectacularly, and I saw Edward raise an eyebrow at me just as the elevator doors dinged and opened.
The receptionists waved at us with perplexed expressions. We had to walk past their desk to get to LawBucks, which was ensconced in a weird corner of the firm's first floor. That made it accessible to the conference rooms—its primary purpose—but exposed all its visitors to the perusal of the reception staff, who were now no doubt busy speculating what Edward and I were doing downstairs together when no meetings were scheduled.
"And there we go, Radio Water Cooler," I mumbled.
"Already?" Edward quipped.
We'd just turned the corner into the hallway where LawBucks was and, fortunately, no disjointed sounds of chatter reached us, which meant the firm's unofficial in-house cafeteria was empty.
Edward let me in first, then closed the door behind us. This was policy—nobody wanted to see overworked attorneys and secretaries playing at being baristas during their breaks or eavesdrop on their debatably appropriate chitchatting.
But after the door clicked shut, he rounded on me, caging me in with his arms, his hands tented on the frosted glass behind me. Before I could react, he descended, capturing my lips with his in a searing kiss that left me breathless and wanting.
"That was …" I couldn't even form coherent thoughts.
"Not office appropriate, but I don't fucking care," he growled. "I needed to kiss you. Now that I have free, unrestrained access to you, I didn't know how difficult it'd be to keep my hands to myself in the office. Just as well I'm spending the semester at Cornell."
"Yeah," I replied, still somewhat short of breath. "I know what you mean. So, coffee?"
He shook his head, chuckling. Then he took a step back, freeing me from the cage of his arms. "Let me, love. I'll do it."
"Is that so you won't have to look me in the face while you tell me who this newcomer is?"
"No. Yes. Fine, you caught me. Ask away. I'll answer any questions you have. I have nothing to hide from you."
I let my gaze roam over his features, searching for any signs of guile and finding none. The man was a paragon of honesty, regardless of whether he was my boyfriend—lover—or not. "I believe you, Edward."
After a determined nod, he turned and started fiddling with the huge, state-of-the-art coffee machine. "What's your poison? Espresso? Cappuccino?"
"I shouldn't be surprised that you know your way around this thing. Is cappuccino within your range?"
"Oh, yes. Dad drinks it all the time since Mom has started policing his caffeine intake. He thinks he can get away with disguising it with foamed milk. Go figure."
I helped him, grabbing clean cups and saucers from the industrial dishwasher. It was no wonder people preferred taking their breaks here if they could—the place was absolutely stocked with anything you could want, from all kinds of tea and coffee beverage ingredients, to the good china instead of plastic cups.
"Here's a clean beaker for the milk." I passed him one from the washer.
"Thanks. Who knows how long this one has been standing here," he added, sniffing at another one that contained lukewarm, already-foamed milk.
"Probably earlier this morning. So, this Black-Whiteley lady. Has anyone told her that double-barreled last name is ridiculous?"
Edward snickered, turning to me as he foamed the milk. "Yes. Only the entirety of our law school year back in the day."
"Ah. Law school. That explains why Alistair wanted me to know about her ahead of time. Is she a friend of yours?"
"That would be a gross mischaracterization. I knew her. She knew me—or of me, rather. We didn't run in the same circles in school, even if our families sorta did."
"Al mentioned that her dad is a federal judge."
He nodded. "He worked in family court before being raised to the federal bench. Mom's crossed swords with him a bunch of times."
"Rosalie says she's a fucking pain in the ass."
At those words, Edward turned and handed me a perfectly foamed cappuccino with cocoa powder sprinkled on top.
"This looks amazing, baby. Thank you."
"You're welcome. And I bet Rosalie used those exact words, didn't she?"
"Direct quote. Is she exaggerating?" I sniffed my cappuccino after stirring in a sprinkle of sugar and took a tentative sip. "Man, this also tastes amazing."
"Yeah? Good. Now, give me a second to brew my espresso."
With practiced movements, he emptied the portafilter into the drawer of spent coffee grounds, loaded up another scoop of coffee, hooked it up, placed an empty cup on the rack, and pushed the button for brewing. In less than a minute, he was holding his scorching hot, black coffee in his hands and sipped it as leisurely as if it were a cold beer.
"I don't know how you do it," I commented.
"What?"
"Drink coffee that's the same temperature as lava."
"That's because I'm naturally hot," he retorted, waggling his eyebrows.
I couldn't resist. I burst out laughing. "Oh, no. You didn't just say that."
"But I did. So, any more questions on the new entry?"
"I asked. You didn't answer. Yet. Is Rose exaggerating?"
He pursed his lips. "Let's see. My information is outdated and incomplete. I haven't run into her professionally in years, and I don't hang out in the same pretentious country club set that her family prizes. You know what my mother thinks of that ilk."
"'Whitewashed sepulchers,' I believe she calls them." Gotta love Esme. "Disclaimer aside?"
He shrugged. "I don't think so. My fragmentary evidence says she's a tad high and mighty, has been raised to think her shit doesn't stink, and she has the personality of a prom dress. Does that about cover it?"
It sounded highly puzzling to me. "Why did they hire her then? If she won't pick up the slack from your absence, and she's about as personable as a toilet brush, what good is she gonna do for the firm?"
"She'll pick up the slack in Uncle Jamie's department. She's more of a bankruptcy lawyer than a regulatory expert. So, I don't know why they'd say she's replacing me because, sure as hell, I'm not being replaced. My associates are holding the fort on my clients. But maybe the consideration is that they don't want to attract any more attention on Bamford's absence, so the official mantra is that she's a bit of this and a bit of that. She's not. Plus, obnoxious or not, she still has the very personal ear of a federal judge."
"Is this the firm's official position?" I asked. He was echoing Alistair's talking points almost to a T.
"No. These are my very unofficial, personal observations. But that's what I'd say to any outward-facing outlets if I had to introduce her. Now, since it's my girlfriend asking—"
"She is."
"Well, in that case. Document everything you do for her. Keep copies of every draft, every email, every message. In law school, she had a memory like a sieve; she barely remembered her own name on a regular day to the point that I dread imagining what it'd be like to work for or with her."
"Yeah, that seems to track. Rose says she's driving her crazy, and she's not even here yet."
He took one last sip of his coffee, then set the cup on the counter with a flourish. "Well, I trust that neither you nor Rose will have issues in dealing with her pretentious, absolutely forgettable ass."
And that was my first introduction to Rebecca Black-Whiteley. Until I had to interact with her a week later.
A few of you wondered why Edward as a partner wasn't involved in hiring Rebecca. He's wondering that too, and it will come up next.
Also, she is no relation to Jacob. She just has a ridiculous last name.
Two things:
1. Team Momo member and dear friend Driving Edward is debuting her first fanfic on 3/30. Today you can catch a snippet of it on Sneak Peek at The Lemonade Stand (tehlemonadestand on blogspot, ffnet eats up links). Remember to put her on alert so you don't miss the start of her story!
2. Teasers, news on upcoming fics, RobPics and shenanigans can be found in my FB Group LaMomo's Lair (just type that in the search bar).
See you next week!