two

EDWARD

The boardroom was silent, save for my voice, sharp and cutting as I tore into the team on the other end of the conference call.

"How does a mechanical issue get past three levels of inspection? Three! Do I need to personally oversee every single maintenance procedure myself? Because it's starting to feel like it."

The man on the other end stammered something about a lapse in communication, but I wasn't in the mood for excuses.

"I don't care how it happened," I snapped, leaning forward, my palms flat against the sleek surface of the table. "Fix it. And don't call me back until you have a solution. If this happens again, heads will roll—starting with yours."

I hit the button to end the call and stood there for a moment, staring at the darkened screen, my chest heaving. My jaw clenched as I turned toward the large window overlooking the city. The skyline blurred slightly as I ran a hand through my hair, trying to shove the frustration down.

I heard a soft cough behind me and turned to see my assistant, Maggie, hovering near the door with a tablet in her hand. She was young, competent, and thankfully had a thick skin—a necessity for working with me.

"What is it?" I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.

She flinched slightly but held her ground. "Just wanted to remind you about the quarterly projections. You asked to review them before—"

"Have them on my desk in an hour," I interrupted, turning back toward the window. "And get me a coffee. Black."

"Yes, sir," she said softly before slipping out of the room.

I sank into the chair at the head of the table, scrubbing a hand over my face. My temples throbbed, the stress of the day already compounding into a dull ache behind my eyes.

I should have felt better. Last night, I'd done what I always did when the tension got to be too much. I'd gone to a bar, found a beautiful woman who made it clear she was interested, and taken her back to my place.

It was easy, uncomplicated. No strings. Just the way I liked it.

And yet…

My jaw tightened as I leaned back in the chair, my mind drifting to a different woman. The one from the coffee shop. 'Bella' is what the barista had called and ever since it's echoed.

She'd been fiery, sarcastic, and completely unimpressed with me—something I wasn't used to. Most people either fawned over me or tiptoed around me, careful not to upset the temper that I knew I had a reputation for. But her? She'd gone toe-to-toe with me without a second thought.

I shouldn't have cared. I'd probably never see her again. But the way she'd looked at me, the sharpness in her eyes, the way her lips had curled in defiance—it had stayed with me, haunting me like a ghost I couldn't shake.

I let out a harsh laugh, shaking my head. It was absurd. Ridiculous, even. I didn't do relationships. I didn't do attachments. Love was a distraction—a dangerous one. I'd learned that lesson the hard way.

My parents had been the first proof. On the outside, they'd looked like the perfect power couple—my father, an airline tycoon; my mother, the poised socialite at his side. But behind closed doors? Their marriage has been full of bickering and resentment. Lately, its been a battlefield my siblings and I can't be bothered to confront.

And then there was Tanya. My one and only foray into something resembling love. She'd seemed different, genuine, until the cracks started to show. She'd cared more about my status than me, more about the perks of being with the heir to Summit Airways than who I actually was.

When I found out she'd been seeing someone else, I swore I'd never make that mistake again. Love wasn't real—it was a convenient lie people told themselves to feel better.

Since then, I'd kept my life simple. Business came first, always. Women were a distraction, nothing more. And yet…

I cursed under my breath, running a hand through my hair again. This woman, whoever she was, had managed to get under my skin in the span of a five-minute encounter. It was infuriating.

"Get it together, Cullen," I muttered, straightening in my chair. I had bigger things to deal with—things that actually mattered.

Love? Relationships? They were for fools. And I wasn't about to let myself become one.

I turned the corner onto Fifth, too focused on my phone to notice the world around me. My thoughts raced, half on the email I was drafting and half on the endless stream of responsibilities waiting for me back at the office.

The collision was sudden. Hot liquid splashed onto my hand, and a sharp gasp broke through my focus.

"What the—" a woman's voice snapped, sharp and full of disbelief.

I looked up to see a young woman standing in front of me, her coffee dripping down the front of her light blue sweater and soaking into the edges of a brown paper bag she held tightly. Her jeans weren't spared either, a large dark stain spreading across her thighs.

"Oh, come on," she muttered, inspecting the damage.

"I'm sorry," I said automatically, though my voice lacked much conviction. My eyes darted back to my phone, already considering how much time I'd lost.

"Sorry?" she snapped, glaring at me. "You just ruined my coffee and my sweater, and you're still staring at your phone?"

Her voice tugged me fully into the moment, and I slipped my phone into my pocket, looking at her properly for the first time. Sharp brown eyes, flushed cheeks, and a scowl that could cut glass. Recognition hit me like a second collision.

It was her. The woman from the coffee shop.

Her eyes narrowed further, and I could see the exact moment she recognized me too.

"You," she said, her voice laced with annoyance. "Of course it's you. Why wouldn't it be?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

"Yes, you," she said, gesturing to my suit. "You're the guy who cut me in line the other day."

I almost smiled at her outrage, the corners of my lips twitching. "You're still mad about that?"

Her glare sharpened. "What do you think?"

I glanced at the mess on her sweater and jeans, then back at her. "Look, I'll buy you a new coffee. And pay for your dry cleaning," I offered, trying to keep my tone even.

She let out a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah, because that's going to fix everything."

"Then let me do better," I said, an idea already forming. "Come back to my office. I have spare clothes you can borrow."

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head immediately. "No way. I'm not going anywhere with you."

"It's just a few blocks," I said, gesturing down the street. "And you can't walk around the city looking like that."

"I'll manage," she said, lifting her chin defiantly.

I crossed my arms, tilting my head slightly. "So, you'd rather walk into work looking like you lost a fight with a coffee machine? Your choice, I guess."

Her scowl deepened, but I could see the hesitation in her eyes. Finally, she let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine. But only because you owe me."

"Fair enough," I said, smirking as I turned to lead the way.

She followed reluctantly, clutching the paper bag as we walked in silence. I could feel her glare burning into the back of my head the entire way, but I ignored it, secretly amused by her stubbornness.

When we reached the Summit Airways building, she stopped just outside the doors, looking up at the towering glass façade.

"Of course you'd work here," she muttered.

I held the door open for her, and she stepped inside, her gaze darting around the sleek lobby.

"My office is upstairs," I said, gesturing toward the elevators.

She hesitated, her brow furrowing. "This is starting to feel like a bad idea."

"You already agreed," I reminded her, stepping into the elevator.

With a groan, she followed, standing as far away from me as possible in the confined space.

When we reached my office, I disappeared into the adjoining room and returned with a spare button-down shirt and black joggers. She was standing by the window, her arms crossed as she stared out at the city below.

"Here," I said, holding out the clothes. "They're not exactly your size, but they'll do for now."

She turned, hesitating for a moment before taking them. "Thanks," she muttered begrudgingly.

"There's a restroom down the hall," I said, nodding toward the door.

She nodded, clutching the clothes as she left the room.

As the door swung shut behind her, I sank into my chair, staring at the space she'd just occupied.

Sharp, defiant, and completely unimpressed by me.

And for reasons I couldn't explain, I couldn't stop thinking about her.

When she walked back into my office, she'd transformed the loose, utilitarian button-down and joggers into something that actually looked… stylish.

The shirt was knotted at the waist, highlighting her figure, and the joggers were rolled at the ankles to show off her legs. Her hair was now tied up in a messy bun, with loose strands framing her face.

For a second, I forgot how to speak. She's beyound imagination.

"Your assistant said she'd take care of my clothes," she said, breaking the silence. She set her bag down on one of the sleek chairs in front of my desk, her eyes flicking toward the windows.

I cleared my throat, forcing my thoughts back into order. "Yes. She'll have them cleaned. Swing by tomorrow and we can trade back."

She nodded, walking toward the massive corner window that framed the New York City skyline. She stood there for a moment, looking out at the endless sprawl of buildings, her arms loosely crossed.

"Figured you'd have a corner window," she said, her voice light and teasing. She turned back to me, her lips curving into a small smirk. "Fits the whole 'big boss' aesthetic."

I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms. "Something funny about that?"

She shrugged, walking toward the shelves along one wall, her fingers lightly brushing the spines of the neatly arranged books. "Not funny, just… predictable."

Her tone was casual, but something about it grated on me. Predictable. Like I was just another corporate cliché to her.

"Do you always make a habit of wandering around strangers' offices?" my voice cool.

She glanced over her shoulder at me, raising an eyebrow. "Do you always make a habit of being this rude to people who are here because of your mistake?"

My jaw tightened, her words hitting a little too close to home. "I wasn't the one holding the coffee."

Her eyes narrowed, and she turned fully to face me, crossing her arms. "Wow. Is this your default setting, or are you just having a bad day?"

I stared at her, caught off guard by her audacity. Most people wouldn't dare speak to me like that, especially not here, in my office, on my turf.

"I don't have time for small talk," I said flatly, leaning forward and opening the file on my desk. "You got what you needed, didn't you? Feel free to show yourself out."

She let out a soft, incredulous laugh. "Unbelievable. You spill coffee all over me, drag me back here, and now you're too busy to be decent?"

I didn't respond, keeping my eyes on the file. I could feel her gaze on me, sharp and unyielding.

"You know," she said after a moment, her tone softer but no less pointed, "if this is how you treat people who aren't kissing your ass, I'm not surprised you look so miserable."

That made me look up. Her expression was steady, her eyes meeting mine without a hint of hesitation.

"Excuse me?" I asked, my voice low.

"You heard me," she said, stepping closer. "You walk around like the weight of the world is on your shoulders, snapping at everyone like it's their fault. Maybe if you were a little less cold, you wouldn't feel so alone all the time."

The words hit harder than I cared to admit. My first instinct was to snap back, to tell her she didn't know a damn thing about me.

But before I could form a response, she shook her head, her smirk returning. "Anyway, thanks for the clothes. I'll leave you to your important, world-saving work."

She grabbed her bag and walked toward the door, her head held high. Just before she stepped out, she glanced back, her eyes glinting with something that looked almost like amusement.

"Try being nice, Cullen. You might like it."

And with that, she was gone, leaving me sitting there, her words echoing in my mind.

Miserable. Cold. Alone.

I scowled, slamming the file shut. What the hell did she know about me, anyway?

I stepped into my penthouse, the sound of the city muffled by the thick glass windows that framed the expansive living room. The space was quiet, as always, the silence a constant companion that I didn't have time to notice most days.

Shrugging off my jacket, I tossed it onto the back of the couch and made my way to the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of water from the fridge. The tension from the day was still sitting heavy on my shoulders, Bella's words echoing in my head despite my best efforts to shove them aside.

You wouldn't feel so alone.

I scoffed quietly, taking a long sip of water. What did she know about anything? About me?

The sharp buzz of my phone on the counter snapped me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the screen and saw my mother's name flashing.

Esme.

I hesitated for a moment before picking up, bracing myself as I pressed the phone to my ear.

"Hi, Mom," I said, trying to keep my voice light.

"Edward," she said, her tone warm but with an edge of tension that immediately put me on alert. "How are you, darling?"

"Tired," I admitted, leaning against the counter. "It's been a long day."

"I can imagine," she said, her voice softening. "You work too hard, you know that? You should take some time for yourself."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "I'll pencil it in," I said dryly.

There was a pause, and I could feel her hesitating before she spoke again. "I've been meaning to call you. I just… I needed to talk to someone."

I sighed, already knowing where this was going. "What did he do this time?"

"It's not just one thing," she said, her voice tight. "You know how your father is. He's so… dismissive. He's always busy, always distracted. I can't even remember the last time we had a proper conversation."

I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Mom—"

"And it's not like I haven't tried," she continued, her frustration spilling out in waves. "But every time I bring it up, he brushes me off. Like my feelings don't matter. I just don't know what to do anymore, Edward."

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came. What was I supposed to say? I loved my mother—I really did—but hearing her complain about my father always felt like being dragged into a fight I didn't want to be part of.

"It's like he doesn't even care," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "I don't understand how we got here. We used to be so… different. So caught up in one another."

I swallowed hard, my jaw tightening. "Have you talked to him about this?"

"I've tried," she said, letting out a bitter laugh. "But it's like talking to a brick wall. Sometimes I think he's more in love with his work than he is with me."

Her words hung in the air, heavy and damning.

"I don't know what to tell you, Mom," I said finally, my voice low. "Maybe… maybe some space would help."

"Space?" she repeated, sounding almost defeated. "We're already like strangers in our own house, Edward. How much more space can there be?"

I didn't have an answer for her.

She sighed, the sound weary and resigned. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be dumping this on you. I just… I needed to talk to someone."

"It's okay," I said, though the knot in my chest told me otherwise.

"Take care of yourself, darling," she said softly. "I'll let you go."

"Goodnight, Mom," I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

She hung up, leaving me standing there in the silence, the weight of her words pressing down on me.

I set my phone on the counter and leaned back against the fridge, staring up at the ceiling.

It was the same story, over and over again. My parents—the supposed golden couple—had been falling apart for years. And for all my mother's optimism, for all her hope that things could be fixed, my father's indifference had always been louder.

This was love.

Messy, painful, and ultimately disappointing.

Bella's voice crept back into my mind again, soft and teasing. You wouldn't feel so alone.

I scoffed, pushing the thought away. Alone was better. Alone was safe.

Love wasn't worth the risk. It never had been.