Chapter 2

[Author's Note: I have A LOT planned for this one. This one has the potential to be longer than tBoB&R. Just warning you :) Anyways, I'll try to post a little more regularly now that it's spring again and my season depression isn't crippling me :D lol. Here's a hint. 9 12-15-22-5 25-15-21 13-15-13-13-25. Oh, and this chapter is dedicated to the blonde vampire tattoo on my forearm. Baaaaaby.]

Though he had to have felt the tension in the room, Emmett ignored it. At least initially. What else was he supposed to do? I was a small brunette with an English degree and self harm scars, and he was some kind of debonair bodybuilding multi-millionaire, bachelor of the month type. Simply put, there was absolutely no reason to be threatened. He had the muscles, the suit, the house, the money, the woman. All I had was that moment.

"It's nice to meet you," I told her, meaning the statement with every fiber of my being.

"Likewise," came her purring response. She tilted her head slightly to the side and continued to look at me. Her gaze seemed to contain a combination of emotions. One part of her took me in as though I were the difficulty worded text she was reading. The other part was nothing but animalistic hunger.

At that point, Ms. Cullen's husband leaned over and whispered something in her ear. The expression on his face was serious and a firm grip on her lower arm seemed to back up his words. Her gaze left me and the edge of her mouth twitched as though she was resisting the urge to grimace.

We exchanged pleasantries for as long as any of us could muster, and then Emmett announced that he, his wife and their daughter had prior arrangements and I'd be filling out my paperwork with Ms. Meyer, their power of attorney. Nearly as soon as the Cullens had left, she retrieved me from my stupor in the living room and took me to an office tucked away at the end of another hallway. There was a giant portrait of the family hanging above a gorgeous cherry oak desk. Rose had her head against Emmett's shoulder (she was much shorter than he was) and she had her arms around a teenage girl that sported his nose but her eyes.

"How long have you worked for the Cullens?" I asked Ms. Meyer. She was a nice lady with that sort of smothered housewife vibe to her. I'm sure that at some point there had been a glint in her eyes, but by the time I met her it was gone.

"Long enough to know not to ask questions," she replied, faux-politely.

I half-laughed, not at all expecting that answer. "What does that mean?"

"The Cullens are a very old family," she explained, flipping through documents and putting together a packet for me. "And so they have very old traditions. They keep to themselves. It'll be easier on them- and on you- if you keep to yourself as well." She handed me a manila envelope and a stack of papers. "Sign these."

"I already signed a contract," I said, "At the station."

She nodded. "I'm aware. These are more of a technicality. Paperwork to have on file in case of an emergency."

"Emergency?"

"It's a big house," she said, "and statistically speaking, about 78% of all preventable injury-related deaths occur within the home. I'm not saying that something is going to happen, but if it did, the Cullens do not want to be held responsible." She paused, allowing me a moment to accept what she was saying. She then opened the drawer in front of her and took from it a very fancy looking fountain pen. She placed it on top of the paperwork sharply. "Sign."

As it turned out, there were ten pages of documents that absolved the Cullens from any blame if I were to have an accident. I was then made to fill out a list of emergency contacts, allergies, and pre-existing conditions. By the end of it, my curiosity into the family had grown exponentially.

"If the Cullens are private people, why hire a personal assistant?" I asked.

"Because in addition to their privacy, they live very busy lives."

"Okay," I said. "So if they have you, why bother bringing someone else in? Why don't you just do whatever it is they need done day to day?"

"Me?" She laughed, dryly. "I think you must underestimate the Cullens' financial situation. I have enough to worry about without picking up drycleaning and groceries." Her glasses had slid down on her nose and she adjusted them before fixing me in a gaze that I could only describe as one of pity. "Listen Miss Swan," she said, "I want you to understand that there is a strict protocol here that we very seldom do not follow. The Cullens are highly selective with whom they allow in their lives, much less in their home. They move around more often than other families and they like to keep their help local to their residency."

"And how about you?" I pressed. "You're not local, right?"

"No," she confirmed. "I'm originally from Connecticut. I am an exception to the rule because my family has worked for the Cullens for generations. My father was the Cullens POA before I was, and his father before that. Personally, I'd always wanted to become a school teacher or maybe a nurse. But some of us are born into obligation." She smiled at that, but there was sadness swimming in her eyes. I wanted very much to touch on that comment, but it seemed a sensitive subject and my hesitation lost me the chance.

"All that being said," she went on, "even though you came highly recommended by the entirety of the Clallam County Police Department you would not be sitting here today if it wasn't for Charlie Swan in particular. Emmett's father thinks very highly of him."

"His father? Who is his father?"

"Carlisle Cullen," Ms. Meyer provided. "He lived in Forks some twenty-years ago."

"Carlisle," I repeated, something about that name striking a nerve with me. "Why does that sound so familiar?" I began to scan my memories, trying to figure out where I'd heard it before. Of course, having partially grown up in Forks, I knew the surname. But the family was really nothing more than myth by the time I was a teenager. I was never made aware that Charlie knew any of them on a personal level. And then it hit me. "Oh my god, Carlisle."

After my mother and father broke up when I was a child, Charlie never remarried. He, too, mostly kept to himself. He had casual friends, like Jake's dad Billy Black and a fellow fisherman named Harry Clearwater. Women never seemed to catch his eye. But Carlisle.. My dad called him Carly and spoke about him like he hung the moon. This was around the time I was eight or nine and once when I was visiting, Charlie and I met him down at Carver Cafe. He was an extremely handsome blonde man with a very wise look about him. I didn't really pick up on it then, but looking back I thought maybe they looked at one another a little too long to be strictly platonic. He moved and left Forks sometime not long after that and to be perfectly honest- Charlie was never really the same after that.

"My dad said that Dr. Cullen moved," I told her, nearly altogether lost in memory. "To, where was it?"

"Italy?"

"Yes."

"He did. He and his wife Esme still reside there. That's where the Cullens have gone- to visit family."

"Ah."

Ms. Meyer escorted me out after that, and as we exchanged goodbyes in the foyer, she stopped me. "Allow me to give you one last piece of advice," she said. "I want to take a second to address the obvious."

"The obvious?"

"Mr. Cullen," she clarified. "We're all guilty of looking. But appreciation is all that will be tolerated."

I could hardly resist the urge to scoff in response. "Is your advice not to hit on Emmett Cullen?"

"My advice is to not even think about it," she replied, matter of fact.

"In that case," I responded, "you don't have to worry because I can assure you that he is 100% not my type."

Her returning gaze was one of inquisition but she nodded curtly. "Very well."

After that, I didn't see any of them for nearly two weeks. I was given a list of daily tasks and a work phone for any needed correspondence. Answering calls and scheduling appointments for Mr. Cullen was the majority of my day. He was an incredibly busy man, though I wasn't altogether sure what all exactly it was that he did for a living. Many of my communications had to go through Ms. Meyer, however, and so I knew at the very least that he was involved in buying and selling bonds.

His wife had fewer social obligations. I knew practically nothing about her and as the days slipped past, anticipation began to grow within me. The urge to see her again became nearly all encompassing. When I closed my eyes at night it was her face that I saw behind my eyelids. She seemed almost constantly on my mind, even in those early days.

For once in a very long time, I found myself distracted from my mental anguish. When I was not thinking of her I was thinking about the bombshell Ms. Meyer had inadvertently dropped on me- Charlie's relationship with Carlisle Cullen. It took a long time for me to build up the courage to ask him about his friend.

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