Chapter 3

[Author's Note: Thank you for your patience. And for taking the time to read this. You mean the world to me, truly. Please review if you like. This is the sort of precursor chapter. Then a small interlude... And then we're going in lol. I hope you enjoy. I'm so glad that something like this could bring us together. We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl..Year after year. Lemme know what you think. Ms. Cullen is such a babe. I'm in love.]

One morning, Charlie and I were sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast. Or rather, he was eating breakfast and I was picking at a slice of toast with jelly. The radio was on and it was broadcasting national public radio. The hosts were discussing gay rights in Italy and I suddenly couldn't keep my mouth shut anymore.

"Why didn't you tell me about Carlisle Cullen?" I asked him.

He choked on his coffee and his entire face turned red. "Tell you what?"

"That he basically got me this job," I said. And then, in an attempt to smooth over the awkwardness I'd caused, I clarified. "That he thinks so highly of you that he convinced his son and his son's wife to hire me as a favor to you."

"Oh," Charlie said, his eyes down as he tapped his fingers on his coffee cup. "Right. That."

"Their POA- Ms. Meyer- she said you two were good friends when he lived here. I'd forgotten about him until she mentioned his name but- I remember now. You two were close, weren't you?"

Charlie cleared his throat. He got up from the table, sat his cup in the sink and switched off the radio. He got his belt and hat from the rack by the door and as he was fastening the belt around his hips he said, "That was a very long time ago Bells."

"But?"

"No but," he responded curtly. "That's it. It was a very long time ago."

"Did you ask him to tell them to hire me?"

"No," he said, plainly. "I haven't seen or heard from Carlisle Cullen in over a decade." He went to the kitchen door and pulled it open. A slight breeze pushed in and ruffled the hair on the back of his neck. I knew he wanted to ask but didn't know how so I went ahead and provided what I knew.

"He's still living in Italy," I said. "Doing well, I guess."

He didn't turn back to face me. "And is he-?"

"Married?" I returned. "Yes. Ms. Meyer said that her name is Esme."

His nod was so subtle, it was barely noticeable. I watched his shoulders lift a little as he took a deep breath. Then he said, "Have a good day Bells," and made his leave. Shortly after, I heard the roar of the cruiser as the engine warmed up. I could imagine him sitting there lost in memory. But when the sound of the wheels crunching the gravel in the driveway could be heard, I knew that he'd pushed it to the back of his mind again.

I knew then that I'd been right about their relationship, at least when it came to how my dad felt about the doctor. But I couldn't shake the sadness that I'd heard in his voice when he'd told me goodbye. It was heavy on my mind all morning and well into the afternoon. The only reprieve came that evening in the form of an even greater distraction.

It was shortly before I'd planned on calling it quits for the evening and I was strolling through the home inspecting the rooms after the maid had left. It was something I did everyday and the monotony of it often had me lost in fantasy. Once again, I replayed our first meeting and recalled in expert detail the way her accent had framed the literary quote. I thought of the scene in which I'd referenced- a man named Levin was in love with a woman named Kitty. When he comes across her one day at the frozen pond, she unknowingly lights up his entire world. As though she were the sun..

The calendar had put the Cullens returning home the following evening and all the help had already vacated the premises so I hadn't expected to run into anyone. So when I entered the kitchen and saw her standing there I felt as though I was the lonely Russian farmer and she was the beauty bachelorette socializing with others on the ice-skating field. My gasp was audible. He knew she was there by the rapture and the terror that seized on his heart.

She was dressed casually in light jeans, white Keds and a white raincoat. Her platinum blonde hair cascaded down her back in loose curls. She was facing away from me when I entered the room, but she spun elegantly at the sound of my footsteps. A wine glass of what appeared to be a very dark merlot was clutched in her perfectly manicured fingers. The second our eyes met I had butterflies in my stomach so big they felt like bats. I was like a power line that had been downed by a heavy storm and now lay sparkling desperately in the pouring rain. Her eyes were incredibly dark. I watched her lift her glass and drink from it. Afterwards, the crimson liquid clung to her lips and she licked them clean slowly by guiding the tip of her tongue all around her mouth.

Suddenly I was very hot. I became aware that my eyebrows were slightly furrowed and I tried to will myself to appear aloof. I couldn't think of what to say to break the tension and so I offered an apology instead. "I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone would be here."

In her delicious accent she replied evenly, "Neither did I. It's after 5, no?"

"Closer to six," I said, "Yes."

"Your contract states 9 to 5, does it not?"

I nodded and then, in an effort to disguise my shaking idle hands, I began to fidget with my braids.

"So why are you still here?" She wanted to know. "Are you trying to suck up to your boss?" Her tone was playful but I sensed another emotion woven through her words.

Perhaps any other time I would have known better than to say what I was about to say, but around her reason took a back seat to longing. A thick haze had taken up residence in my mind and the filter I should have had around her and at work dissolved. "What do I get if I do?" I asked, point blank.

Her honey golden eyes flashed and the edge of her mouth lifted very subtly. "That depends on what you want me to give you, Miss Swan."

My eyebrows pulled back together. Arousal tumbled through me recklessly. I tried to shake it off but the attempt had no effect on her nearly all encompassing thrall. I lifted my chin and stood up straighter. The only hope I had of salvaging myself was to feign composure. I changed the subject.

"The calendar had you all getting home tomorrow night," I told her.

She shrugged, drank more of her beverage and then sat the glass on the counter by the sink. "Are we not allowed to change our minds?" she asked me, casually inspecting her perfectly manicured fingernails- coffin tipped and pale pink. I liked the way her fingers moved.

"You're allowed to do anything you want," I said.

Her scoff was quiet, almost unnoticeable. "Not anything," was her response. "There are rules, believe me."

Was she baiting me?

"So are you all back then?" I wanted to know.

"No." Her eyes were once again in mine. "Just me. My husband and our daughter are spending a week in Prague with his sister and her husband. I had something to take care of here so I returned early."

Mentally, I recalled her schedule but couldn't find anything too pressing. Many of her events were charities or leadership council meetings, nothing she couldn't (or rather I couldn't) easily reschedule. Mr. Cullen on the other hand had a packed itinerary and learning that he planned on remaining overseas for another week meant extra work for me. But that was something to worry about later.

"What was so important that you had to skip out on Prague?" I asked.

"Well," she began, as calm and collected as ever, "I guess you could say that I'm a purveyor of fine goods. And recently I came across something I'm very interested in.. Acquiring."

"How recently?"

"Mm," she gave in consideration, "About two weeks ago?" She closed her eyes for a moment and then, in her sultry voice she purred the last lines of what some referred to as the greatest piece of literature ever written. "My life now, my whole life, regardless of all that may happen to me, every minute of it, is not only not meaningless, as it was before, but has the unquestionable meaning of the good which it is in my power to put into it."

It took everything in me not to whimper. Instead, I mouthed "Fuck" and then, aloud, said to her, "Can we talk about what happened the day we met?"

"The day we met," she repeated, "Yes we can. Go on. I'm listening."

Maybe initially I had planned to ask her about her interest in classic literature or maybe I had just wanted to find out her favorite book. But the pressure of her focus on me rung the words out of me like water from a sponge. My lips were parted to speak but I truly could not form a single sentence. She smiled at my hesitation, perhaps even proud of herself.

"Did you want to address the fact that we've both read Anna Karenina?" Ms. Cullen asked me. "Or were you merely wanting to bring up the fact that being near me has a visceral effect on you?" My responding expression must have been one of sheer frustration because she laughed. It was almost like a purr, her laugh, and the way it sounded did me in the rest of the way. She was right. It was a very visceral reaction. I could [practically feel her swimming all through me.

Nothing prepared me for what happened next. It almost as though we were within a dream. She approached me and her gait was practiced, elegant, more akin to drifting than walking. The closer she got, the more our surroundings began to fade. When she was merely inches in front of me, I had complete tunnel vision; it was she and it was I and nothing else mattered. I was intoxicated just by her scent alone. She smelt clean, like a mild soap with a soft floral note. I wondered if the aroma would be stronger at the nape of her neck, and I longed to find out.

She lifted one hand and with precision, took my braid and slid the band from it. When she spoke, her cool breath pushed against my cheeks and if I hadn't been frozen in place, I would have been reduced to a puddle at her feet. "I like your hair down," she said, "Loose." She undid both of my braids and then ran her fingers through my hair without snagging a single strand. "Wear it down when you're around me."

I could do nothing but nod. And when she finished her gesture by sliding the knuckle of her index finger along my jaw I began to exist only for her.

She stepped back and then retrieved her wine. I could hear the gentle teasing in her voice when she finally said, "Go home Bella Swan. Your shift is over."

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