Chapter 5

[Author's Note: Rose&Bella.. Para siempre.]

I woke up the next morning absolutely disoriented. The last things I remembered were laying down on Embry's couch and then being scooped up into Jacob's arms. I felt almost hungover, though I knew it wasn't the weed that had caused that. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but something felt off about me. Strange. On top of all that, I was completely naked and yet drenched in sweat. I often slept with little to nothing on and if not for the rest, I probably wouldn't have questioned it. But my memory was failing to produce a chunk of the previous evening and anxiety was beginning to settle in. So in spite of that and, too, a nearly splitting headache, I forced myself out of bed. I cloaked myself in a robe, stumbled to my bathroom and took a long, much needed shower.

When I was clothed and presentable, I found a note from Charlie on the fridge, held up by his favorite slice-of-cherry-pie magnet. He told me, in his hurried script, that he had to go in early and would be out late. He'd included the station's number, as though I didn't have it programmed into my phone, and said to call if I needed anything. But it wasn't Charlie I needed to talk to.

Jake answered on the third ring, his voice drenched in sleep. "Uh.. 'Ello?"

"Jake," I said, bypassing any proper greeting, "what happened last night?"

He grumbled for a second, something about how early it was and how tired he happened to be. Then he said, "Uh, nothing, why?"

"I feel weird," I said. "I can't remember really anything past Em's house."

He chuckled. "Well you got really blazed," he said, "and so I took you home."

"And?"

"And? And nothing Bells. Do you not remember?" He was quiet for a moment, at least until my returned silence answered his question. "You were too stoned to drive, so I put my bike in the back of your truck and drove you home. Then, when you got there you.. Went upstairs. That's it."

I tried to remember but my mind was hazy and the haze seemed almost impenetrable. The shower had eased my headache, but trying to play back what he was referring to was causing it to flare back up. So I stopped. I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Okay," I said. "Thanks. Go back to sleep. I'll talk to you later."

Charlie had left some coffee on and so I had a cup of it without any fixings and forced myself to eat half of a rice cake from the cabinet. It wasn't until I was pulling into the Cullen drive way that my mind cleared enough to once again, wash me in unsubstantiated anxiety. Suddenly, without warrant or warning, I was incredibly nervous. Getting out of my truck, I nearly dropped my work bag twice. I must have run my hands through my hair half a dozen times before I made it to the front door and began punching in the security code.

Ms. Meyer met me in the foyer as I came inside. She appeared to be leaving, her sunglasses already pulled down over her eyes.

"Good morning Ms. Swan," she said, "you're early. I was about to call you."

"I am?" I echoed, glancing at my watch, then back at her, "You were?"

"Your shift is nine to five," she returned, "and it's barely after eight."

"Well Ms. Cullen came home early yesterday," I reasoned, "so I thought-"

The financial advisor nodded. "Then you already know. She returned early. She's a collector, Ms. Cullen, and I believe there's an estate sale that she's interested in this week." Her phone began to ring and she checked the screen and then returned her attention to me. "I have to take this but Bella-" she leaned into me, "If Ms. Cullen tells you to do something, just do it. Mr. Cullen may seem intimidating, but his wife has him eating out of the palm of her hand." She gave me a curt smile and then, not even a moment later, her phone was pressed to her ear and she had slipped past me and exited the home.

An estate sale? That's what she had been referring to the day before when she'd mentioned acquiring something? I was delusional. Rosalia Cullen was a married woman with a child. She hadn't been hitting on me, she'd simply been referring to a business opportunity.

I took my belongings to the office I'd signed paperwork in during my first day. I got out my netbook and reviewed my itinerary. I could hear the maids bustling around and though I wondered whether or not she too was home, I did my best to keep her at the back of my mind. What I'd learned from Ms. Meyer had permanently shut down my fantasizing. Mentally, I had to get it together. I was a suicidal ex-bartender with a useless English degree. I only spoke one language fluently, I'd never actually been out of the country, and if I had to put myself in a tax bracket.. It would be an extremely low one. Why would someone as worldly as her even give me the time of day?

The sound of approaching footsteps tore me from my thoughts. Heels. I stood, smoothed down the front of my sweater and once again, combed my fingers through my hair. When she came to stand in the doorway, I released a ragged breath I didn't know I was holding.

Rosalia Cullen was wearing a soft orange dress with a generous amount of cleavage. Her plantinum blonde hair hung loose about her face in gentle waves. Her caramel irises sparkled in the lamp light and when her gaze connected with mine, I swear I saw a smile play on her perfectly plump lips.

"You're early," she said. "First you stay late, and now you show up early. I really do think you're trying to impress your boss." I became acutely aware then of how her eyes were scanning my form.

"So," I said, "Maybe I am." And then, in an effort to hide my unprecedented nerves, I shoved my hands in my pockets. "I just assumed with you being back early that you'd need help and-"

She lifted one of her arms, elegantly presenting me with her palm in a gesture to get me quit talking, which I did. "Take your hands back out of your pockets," she said and I did that too.. "Hold them out in front of you." She came forward, took one of my hands in hers and fixed me in a steely gaze. "You're shaking."

The temperature of her skin was cool, but her hands were soft and I could feel her touch all through me. "Well I had a big cup of coffee," I responded, my voice sounding rather far off.

"No more," she said, and she let the tips of her fingers gently caress the inside of my hand. "Water instead."

I nodded. "Okay."

Then, with the ease of a casual motion, she slid my sleeve up my arm and revealed, possibly to us both, the real reason for our acquaintanceship. It was the reason I was back in Forks, why I was no longer a bartender and why I knew, ultimately, I didn't deserve her attention whatsoever. It was just a puckered scar now, but it was very obvious what had caused it. I forced myself to look up from the marr on my wrist and into her angelic face. Her eyebrows were loosely knit.

"You hurt yourself," she said to me. It wasn't a question, just a comment on what she already knew to be true. "Both wrists?"

I nodded and she gingerly pushed up my other sleeve to present the matching pair of self-harm wounds.

"These were deep."

"Yes."

"Were you trying to..?"

Again, solemnly, I nodded. "Yes."

With bated breath, I watched as she traced both lines with the perfectly manicured nail of her right index finger. My attempt at resisting a full body shiver failed and when I twitched pathetically, her digits stilled. She asked me, "Do you still do this?" and when I didn't answer, she released one of my hands, placed her bent finger beneath my chin and willed me to look at her. "I asked you a question Bella."

"I haven't," was my reply. "Not since then."

Ms. Cullen's voice came out like a purr. "Good girl."

And then suddenly, it all came rushing back to me. The open window, the fluttering curtain, my release of sexual frustration.. And her, poised at one end of my room.. Watching me..While I..

"Oh my god," I hissed, "last night was real."

"Last night," she repeated, cooly, "what happened last night?"

I searched her face for meaning, but if she knew to what I was referencing, she had a perfect poker face. "I guess I must have dreamt it," I murmured, the haze settling back in. I was trapped in her eyes. Her fingers were still gently petting and I could feel heat spreading all through me. There were certain parts of my body, however, that were hotter than others..

"What did you dream?" she wanted to know, her tone sweet but prying. "Did you dream about me Bella Swan?"

There truly wasn't any use in resisting or telling a lie; it was as if she could see inside my soul anyway. "Yes," I told her. "I dreamt about you last night."

"Tell me about your dream," she instructed and I shook my head. "I'm your boss," she added, "So technically you have to tell me."

But even caught in her delicious thrall, I knew better than to reveal something so intimate.. So telling. "That isn't a good idea," I replied, "it wasn't a work appropriate dream."

"No?" One of her eyebrows lifted slightly, "Then let's pretend that for a moment, I'm not your boss. Would you tell me then?"

I shook my head again. "No," I said. "Because if you're not my boss, then you have no authority over me and I really shouldn't tell you about my dream."

She laughed that same intoxicating laugh from the day before and I closed my eyes for a moment and existed on the precipice of some grand cliff. Rosalia Cullen brought her lips to my ear and she spoke the next words in a sultry whisper- "I don't have to be your boss to have authority over you." One of her elegant hands snaked its way up my stomach, between my breasts, along my throat and finally to my jaw. She turned me to face her and with her mouth maybe an inch from mine she said, "Be a good girl for me Bella and tell me about your dream."

I whimpered and her lip twitched subtly. "I was in bed," I explained, that same far off voice escaping my lips without effort, "and I was touching myself and you-"

"And I," she echoed, "what did I do?"

"You watched."

"I watched. I see." Her phone rang then, somewhere in the recesses of her dress. She reached into her pocket and pulled it out. I recognized the handsome face on the lit up screen right away and I knew what was about to happen before it happened. She released me, with one final stroke of my jaw. And then suddenly she was several steps from me and answering her phone as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "Emmett," she said, "Yes?"

I could hear the deep gravel of his voice but couldn't make out what he was saying. He sounded agitated, and her response reflected that.

"Well of course we packed them," she said to him, "I don't know what you want me to do Emmett. I'm on the other side of the world. Try looking at the bottom of your suitcase." She sighed and inspected her flawless fingernails, twisting her hand in front of her absentmindedly. "Can you just send Martin out to the store to get you another pair?"

There was a grunt of a response and then a string of words that, judging by the expression on her face, weren't exactly family friendly.

"We'll see about that," she said, her tone lilting. "I'll talk to you later. Tell Nessie hello for me, hmm?" She hung up, returned her phone to her pocket and then refocused her attention on me. "I need you to run an errand for me today," she said, "I have a package waiting for me in Seattle. I have prior engagements or I'd pick it up myself." She turned then and headed for the door, perhaps in an effort to smooth over the tension she'd created just moments before. But with one hand on the door frame, she paused. "What are you doing later?"

"Later?" I asked. "Like after I get back from Seattle or-?"

"No," she said. "I mean after work. Are you free?"

It dawned on me then what she was asking and before I could even begin to consider the repercussions, I accepted. What was I supposed to do? I was back on that cliff, threatening to topple over into the abyss. And Rosalia Cullen was the strong wind at my back. I was falling..

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