Stupid Little Game

By: Powered by 23 Kicks

In high school, Edward ruled and Bella suffered the consequences. Years
later, they meet again as different people. Still hurt and pretending she's not,
Bella is confused by the pull she feels for the man she once knew as a bully,
and begins a game of angry indifference to keep him at arm's length. But
does she want to win or lose?

Status: complete

Published: 2022-08-06

Updated: 2023-05-11

Words: 126613

Chapters: 29

Rated: Fiction M - Language: English - Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort -

Characters: Bella, Edward - Reviews: 2,097 - Favs: 633 - Follows: 975

Original source: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14119273/1/Stupid-Little-

Game

Exported with the assistance of FicHub.net

Stupid Little Game
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 1
Welcome to another incarnation of Bella and Edward!

A huge thank you to Team SLG:

Di, my editor,

Paige, Aileen, Rachel, and Renee, my prereaders.

Also, to Lizzie for the gorgeous story banners.

This story is based on a Fic Lab prompt called different .

Thinking of the word different, I decided to focus on a girl who'd been

bullied by a boy in high school, and the idea that over ten years later,
they would be completely different people when they meet again.

The boy, now a man, has forgiven himself for his past, has forgiven
himself for being a beast to the girl. He's seeking redemption, but
first has to face the consequences of his behavior toward the girl
whose past taught her not to trust him.

The girl thought she'd moved past the pain as well, but she never
expected to meet the boy again. She certainly never expected the
now-compelling man to ask for forgiveness. Still angry, hurt and
reluctant to forgive him, she does everything she can to keep him at
arm's length. That's where the title Stupid Little Game comes from.
(And does she want to win or lose this game?)

Together, they have to learn to accept their "new" normal. Which is a

surprise for them both because neither anticipated the feelings each
would have for the other.

I sat with my anger long enough,

until she told me her real name was grief.

- C.S. Lewis

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 1

I'd once read that if my dreams didn't scare me, they weren't big
enough. So there I was, standing at the bottom of the high-rise at
333 West Wacker Drive, frightened out of my wits and hoping to
change my life. The building was shiny and imposing, and I took in a
nervous, excited breath as I tipped back my head to take it all in. The
surface of the glass reflected the tall buildings and the curve of the
Chicago River behind me, giving the reflection an unusual olive
green cast.

It was where Ferris Bueller's dad had once worked.

Maybe, I thought as I crossed my fingers, it would eventually be

where I worked.

Feeling strong and confident in my new lingerie, black pencil skirt,

silk blouse, and modest heels, I entered the building along with a
group of men and women dressed in power suits. You didn't work in
a building like this without feeling or looking the part, after all.
Doormen wearing dark green livery scrutinized us as we passed. I
was sure they were there to help keep the riffraff out, but also to
answer any questions we might have about which direction to go,
because inside, there were two wings of lobbies. Taking a chance, I
followed a stream of people to the left. After figuring out which of the
three elevators to take, I stepped inside with a feeling of
accomplishment.

Today was my day. I was going to nail this interview.

I was almost thirty minutes early, and thank God I was, or I would
have been caught horribly unaware. I noticed him immediately as he
stepped onto the elevator in his bespoke navy suit and matching tie.

Edward fucking Cullen.

High school bully and all around piece of shit.

Here. Now? The two of us both moved all the way from Forks,
Washington to Chicago, Illinois? Fuck, of all the places and times for
him to show up, it had to be today, my day, when everything was
supposed to go my way.

I wanted to step to the back of the elevator, but it was packed, and I
couldn't move.

My temperature climbing, I also itched to push him back outside the

car.

While he looked older than the boy I remembered, he was still utterly
unforgettable with that square jaw and chaotic bronze hair. And still
soul-stealing gorgeous, unfortunately. Under thick, dark eyebrows,
his light green gaze swept briefly across the faces of the rest of us
already in the elevator, and my heart leaped for another reason
when his sharp, intense gaze bounced back to me.

It didn't stay, though. He didn't recognize me. Besides, I happened to

know that short, dark-haired, and dumpy wasn't his type. I probably
had one too many buttons undone to account for his double-take.

I looked down and nope, my crisp white blouse under its decorative
vest was buttoned up to the throat. Maybe I had something on my
face?

The marketing firm where I had my interview was located on the

23rd floor, and he-all six feet of him under that unmistakable hair-
stood at the front of the elevator, glancing down at his phone and
ignoring everyone else. Although, he politely moved aside each time
someone needed to pass. The woman standing beside me was
biting her lip as she stared at the curve of his ass and long legs, and
I swallowed a laugh.

When the elevator opened at level 23 and he strode off, heading

toward a silver filigree sign that read Smith & Devaney, exactly
where my interview was, my heart began pounding uncontrollably.

Oh, hell no.

With warning bells sounding in my ears, and my tongue pushing

firmly against the roof of my mouth, I headed for the nearest
restroom.

"Get a grip, Bella," I told the girl in the mirror.

For some reason, I had expected to see oily hair and pimples on my
face, so the sight of my hair in its tight chignon and my clear, pale
skin against dark red lips, rattled me for a second.

Seeing Edward Cullen's dismissive glance had thrown me

uncomfortably back to high school. I'd forgotten for precious
moments that I was no longer the overweight, braces-faced girl
who'd received such vitriol from Edward Cullen and his friends.

If he could affect my confidence like this from just a single glance,

there was no way I could work in the same office where he did. No
way on earth.
But I wanted this job. I was right for this job. Advertising and
marketing was my strength. Clearly, someone at the firm had seen
that because I'd been called in for an interview. I owed it to myself to
go through with it.

I wasn't going to let Edward Cullen derail my life a second time. The
girl who graduated high school in 2009 no longer existed. I'd made
my peace with her early on in college. I'd worked my ass off to lose
weight, and I'd eaten better. I'd learned how to care about taking
care of myself.

Damn it, I was Isabella Marie Swan, and my appearance no longer

dictated my importance or lack thereof. In fact, now I was used to
being looked at twice by the Edward Cullens of the world.

Nodding at myself and putting on a brave front, I squared my

shoulders and left the restroom.

Fake it till you make it.

I faked it all the way across the carpet of the front office with its tan
and cream decor, to the firm's conference room, where Edward
Cullen himself sat behind a long table. He was no longer wearing a
look of busy indifference on his face, and seemed to be waiting for
me. Under his piercing, intense stare, my heart stopped. My steps
faltered.

"I thought I was supposed to meet with Mary Alice Brandon," I said
as the receptionist closed the double glass doors behind me.

Thank God, I didn't stutter like I used to.

"You recognize me," Edward said softly, probably noting my stiff

expression.

And apparently, he recognized me? Or remembered my name.

I tightened my grip around the briefcase I held. What in the hell was
going on?

"Of course," I replied, albeit a bit sarcastically. "The way you once
spit at me is unforgettable."

I watched his Adam's apple bob before he nodded. "I-yes. I'm sorry.
So sorry for that," he said in an apologetic, sincere tone.

It took me by surprise, because I was expecting him to be the same

dickhead I remembered.

"Why am I meeting with you and not Ms. Brandon?" I asked, not
interested in his sorry . He was more than ten years too late.

"I'm waiving your initial interview. The follow-up is always with me."
He cleared his throat, flashing me a small, self-conscious smile that I
was sure he expected would soften my attitude. If I didn't know what
a shit he was, I'd have wanted to swoon.

"With you?"

"I'm the Vice President of Marketing. The open position is in my

department."

Jesus God. What rotten luck. He might as well have slammed a two-
by-four into my stomach. All my hopes crashed to my feet.

"I see," I choked. "Then, I'm sorry. I think we've both wasted our time
here."

He frowned, his arresting face rearranging itself into something even

more attractive. As a sulky teenager, he'd been striking. As a man,
his rugged beauty, those incredible eyes, still had the power to make
my stomach flutter. Especially now that he was looking at me like I
mattered. It was an unfair travesty.

"Bella, I'd hoped we could move past our… well, our past," he began
in a gentle tone. "I'm not the same person I used to be, and I know
you aren't, either."

I tried to catch my breath. "It's Isa bella," I corrected him. He'd never
once called me by my name, and he certainly hadn't earned the
privilege of using my nickname. "Since you recognize who I am, then
you should know why this is never going to work. I wonder why you
even bothered to call me in. I would never want to work with
someone who routinely made my life a living hell."

His eyes closed as if in pain before he abruptly stood, his gaze

dropping to my fisted hand.

I wanted to flip both my middle fingers at him. I wanted to spit in his

face. I wanted to kick the hell out of his shin, anything to wipe that
sorrowful expression off his face. I kept expecting to see a familiar
look of sarcasm, so damn him for looking genuinely worried and
sorry! And damn myself for getting emotional over him.

"I'm not that stupid, asinine boy anymore," he said lowly. "I've often
thought of you and wanted to talk to you, to tell you I'm sorry."

I laughed lightly, pushing down the pain of his words and the
memories they brought up. "You should have tried when I'd have
given you the chance. Now, I'm not interested."

The mere thought of his apology made me want to vomit.

"Isabella, please. I know I hurt you. I'm prepared to do whatever it

takes to make amends," he said, rounding the table.

I raised my hand. It was shaking.

"Don't come near me. If you're serious about doing whatever it takes
to make me see you're sorry, then stop talking. I'm not interested in
anything you have to say."

"Not even for a starting salary of one-hundred-five thousand?" he

asked as he undid the button on his blazer.
I blinked, moving my gaze from his chest back up to his face. "The
ad stated ninety-one to ninety-five."

"I've seen your work," he said, remaining still, although it looked like
it cost him to do so. "I convinced Colin. Told him that I grew up with
you, that you'd always been an overachiever. You'll succeed well
here; I have no doubts."

He grew up with me? What a crock. We'd been thrown together for
one-and-a-half years, and he hadn't known the first thing about me.

I shook my head. "No, not with you as my boss."

He stared at me, his dark eyebrows furrowed. It looked as though he

was thinking about how he could change my mind, although I really
didn't know why it mattered.

"Not even if you don't report to me?"

"Isn't it your department?"

He shrugged. "You'll report to Alice. I'll introduce you to her now if

you'd like. I believe you're smart enough to do the work on your own.
We don't micromanage here."

Against my will, I began thinking about how this might work. At one-
hundred-five thousand, I should be able to make it work.

"I need time to think about it," I said grudgingly.

A grateful, relieved expression came over his face. "Of course."

"You have other candidates to interview. Maybe you'll find someone

more suitable. Someone with whom you don't have a contentious
past."

He was shaking his head before I finished speaking. "No, the job is
yours until you tell me you don't want it."
Inside, I was shaking with nerves, excitement, and fear. Could I
really do this? Could I really work where I'd see Edward Cullen
daily?

"I'll let you know," I said, and turned.

"Bel-Isabella," Edward called after me.

Two steps away from the double doors and freedom, I stopped. I
didn't turn around. I still wasn't sure I could do this. Not even close to
being sure.

"I hope you say yes," he said simply.

It made my hackles rise, and I turned my head to glare at him over

my shoulder.

"If I decide to work here, I don't want to see your apologetic stares.
We'll behave like polite strangers. I moved past what happened a
long time ago."

His face still wore a gentle expression as he stared at me with his

light green eyes, the same eyes I'd used to see in my nightmares. I
thought I was over him. Still, I'd never expected to see him again in
my life. It was probably just the shock of it all that was throwing me
off balance, that was causing me to react in such anger.

"Oh, clearly," he said, and I knew he didn't mean it at all. That he

was mocking me.

Asshole .

"I'm different," I snapped. "I'm not the girl you made fun of anymore."

"I'm different," he replied. "I'm not the boy who hurt you anymore.
Give me a chance to show you."

I'd have rather streaked naked down Michigan Avenue. The idea of
feeling anything but hatred for Edward Cullen was incomprehensible.
"No," I said, and yanked open the door. I wanted to slam it closed,
but that would have drawn too much attention.

I left him staring after me like he used to do to me-only I knew I didn't

leave him with tears in his eyes, that I didn't leave him feeling
embarrassed and hurt. No, he was the damn Vice President of
Marketing. Despite being an asshole and an unfeeling brute, he'd
succeeded well in his life.

Damn it, he should have been sitting at home on his couch, not
showered or shaved, with a beer belly hanging over the waistband of
his pants.

"You don't get another chance," I whispered.

…
Chapter 2
Trigger warning: ugly bully ahead

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

Paige, Aileen, Rachel, and Renee, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 2

During the next few days, I waded through the nine circles of hell,
trying to come up with a list of pros and cons of working at Smith and
Devaney.

At first, I was at a loss, afraid to make a decision either way. Not to

mention, I was still trying to come to terms with having met Edward
Cullen again. He was no longer a boogeyman from my past, but had
the possibility to exist in my present.

That awful prospect made me discount the idea of working there. It

didn't make good emotional sense for me. Although I was
heartbroken about the reason why and found it difficult to believe,
the interview had taught me I was still hurt and angry with Edward
Cullen. Seeing him daily would bring back memories I thought I'd
already moved past, but clearly had not.

Even now, I remembered the nagging fear and inner disquiet I used
to feel in high school. All because one boy chose not to like me and
others had followed like sheep.
Was the amount of money really enough to offset that turmoil?

The number one pro was the salary, of course. Chicago was no joke
when it came to living expenses. Rent was astronomical, and I liked
eating well. I'd been without a job for almost a month now, and the
money from Mom's life insurance policy was dwindling.

I was also almost thirty years old, which was too old to be hopping
from job-to-job like I had been. I'd been looking, fruitlessly it seemed,
for a place where I could fit in and grow. Competition in Chicago was
fierce, and as good as I thought I was at my job, there was always
someone better. Being offered a job at Smith and Devaney was
beyond anything I'd ever dreamed of. It was damn awesome, and I
still found it hard to believe.

If only it wasn't Edward Cullen doing the offering, though.

I wondered again if he was offering me the job because I was

qualified, or because he owed me recompense.

No, I couldn't doubt myself. I deserved this chance. I deserved that

one-hundred-five-thousand dollar salary. I deserved to work at a
company where I could stay and grow.

But was it possible at a firm where Edward Cullen worked? Because

he'd be the one deciding whether or not to promote me. Did I really
want to give him that power?

Fuck no.

Which brought me to my biggest con: the boy who'd once torn out
my heart and rammed it down my throat.

It was colder than I'd expected in Forks, Washington. Grayer, too.

My selfless sacrifice of giving Mom and Phil their freedom to go on

the road with his baseball team, of moving away from Phoenix,
seemed more and more like a huge mistake. My no-nonsense,
practical dad wouldn't understand how a little thing like the weather
could affect my entire mood. It was stupid, really, but I'd made this
decision on my own, and now I had to live with it. I needed to suck it
up.

Moving to podunk Forks hadn't seemed worthwhile until the first day
I pulled into the high school parking lot, when I saw what had to be
the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen walk past the front of my truck.
There was nothing I liked more than having a cute boy to crush on. A
good crush could keep me going for a long time. He might even
make living in a rainy backwoods worth the trouble.

As he walked past, I noticed the boy had the most unusual hair color,
which gleamed like polished bronze against gray daylight. When his
face turned my way, he was frowning, but he looked like a model
with those high cheekbones and an almost square jawline. I'd never
seen such a perfectly formed face. Not many people could frown and
still look beautiful, but he made it look damn good. His light-colored
eyes seared into mine as he passed, leaving behind a trail of fire that
raced up my back.

I was struck dumb and breathless from a glance that lasted seconds.

I looked for him in the school's hallways, enduring the stares of other
students, trying not to mind that no one spoke to me, that no one
welcomed the new girl. It was a semester into my junior year, so I got
it-I was late to the party, and in a small town school, I was an
interloper.

And maybe they thought I'd bite or something.

Or maybe they didn't like the way I looked. I was a tad overweight,
not exactly a beauty queen with my pimples and braces, but my eyes
were wide and light cinnamon brown, by far my best feature. I wasn't
fearsome or horrid-looking, just… not a rail thin beauty queen.

I didn't see the beautiful boy again until Biology class, and that was
when it fell apart.
The class was full. There was only one available seat. It happened to
be the one next to the beautiful boy, and oh boy, if I thought his
scowl was scary outside, now it was positively fierce.

" Sorry," I said as I stumbled over the back of his chair leg and nearly
dropped my books into his lap.

" Fuck off, bone-shrinker," he replied.

Bone-shrinker?

Oh. He was telling me I disgusted him.

I sank slowly into the adjoining chair with my books hugged close to
my chest, gaping at him. No one had ever been so rude to me
before, especially for no good reason.

" Don't look at me," he bit out, as if I was an idiot who needed
instruction.

I jerked my face away, realizing idiotically that his eyes were a

startling green.

The boys at the table in front of us had turned around to give me a

bored once-over.

" Oh, Cullen," one of them snickered. "You really hit the lottery this
time, dude."

The speaker sneered at me, then high-fived his table-mate like he'd
just scored a home run or something.

" He's just mad because she's going to drag his grade down," the
other laughed sarcastically.

" Fuck off, Crowley," the beautiful boy growled. Apparently, fuck off
was his go-to.
I set my books gingerly on the table in front of me, half expecting it to
collapse or explode. Nothing around me seemed safe at the
moment.

" I-I'm an A-student," I said, and wanted to cringe. My voice was

small and warbly.

I didn't know what I'd done to deserve such hatred from the beautiful
boy, who was seeming less and less beautiful by the second, but I
didn't want him to think I was stupid. If anything, he would probably
drag my grade down.

" I don't care what you are," he said, his gaze raking across me
scornfully. "But you're at my table, you're unwelcome, and you drive
an ugly-ass truck. If you screw with my grade during labs because
you can't keep up, I'm going to be pissed."

He definitely wasn't the beautiful boy in my mind any longer.

" So m-much for the welcome committee," I said, but my voice was
still thin, and I stuttered again .

Once my words registered, Cullen did something with his mouth.

Before I knew what had happened, a glob of spit hit my cheek.

" There's your welcome."

Angry, humiliated tears came fast and furious, and it took me longer
than I liked to blink them away. When I saw his face again, he was
looking at me as if he was shocked. But the shock was quickly
replaced by scorn as he turned to the boys, who were snickering
loudly, and told them to shut the fuck up.

I hunched my shoulder, wiping his spit off my cheek. Then I grabbed

my books, stood, and ran out of the room like a coward.

The Biology teacher was coming inside as I was trying to leave.

" You're going the wrong way, Miss," he said kindly.

" Excuse me," I said, tears threatening again at his kind tone. "I
came to the wrong room."

I'd find another Biology class.

Any other class.

Hopefully, on Mars.

When it seemed as if thinking about the Smith and Devaney job for
even one more minute was going to make my head explode, I
FaceTimed the most sensible person I knew: my dad.

He drove a 2007 Honda Civic because it still moved; he sat in a

recliner purchased in the eighties because it hadn't fallen apart yet,
although it was damn close; and, Mom's yellow kitchen walls still
greeted visitors, although they were kind of sad-looking and dingy
now.

Come to think of it, Dad hated change, and probably wouldn't

approve of anything that made me uncomfortable. He wouldn't
understand the lure of wanting to work in an iconic building in a
diverse, thriving metropolis. He was a simple, small-town man who
enjoyed fishing and hunting, watching the Mariners in the summer,
and the Seahawks in the fall.

Conservative or not, I needed a dose of his sensible practicality right

now. I was dangerously close to accepting a job I would probably
love, but with a company I might grow to regret.

Someone had to talk sense to me.

I opened my laptop, then clicked on the FaceTime icon. Smiling into

the camera, I checked to make sure there was nothing in between
my teeth.
Dad hated FaceTime. If he had his way, I'd call him on the landline.
The only reason he had an iPhone was because I'd gotten weepy
about him not having one, and he hated it when I cried. Since I lived
so far away, I wanted to be able to see his face-that patiently
impatient look of censure he wore helped keep me grounded.

After five long, tense rings, he finally answered.

"Bella?"

"Dad, all I can see is your ear."

The image on my laptop screen jumped and jerked before his face
appeared, and I grinned at his put-upon expression, feeling my chest
lighten.

"There you are, my favorite person in the world."

Dad scowled deeply as he tried to center the phone on his face, but
the frown was fake; his repressed laughter was making his phone
bounce, and his face on my screen flickered like the girl's from that
old movie, The Blair Witch Project .

After we traded short, polite niceties, I came right out with it.

"So, I received a job offer from a company that can pay me

substantial money," I said with a drawn out sigh. "Like, quite a bit
more than I've ever made before. Like, life -changing more. But my
boss would be someone from high school. I couldn't stand him, and
now he makes me want to hurl. What should I do?"

One of Dad's eyebrows slowly rose, then he harrumphed. "Pass.

Money isn't everything, and you spend most of your waking hours at
work. Do you really want to spend it trying not to… er, hurl?"

I rubbed my forehead. "But it's for a major firm. And did you hear that
it's for a lot of money?"

"I heard something about hurling," he returned dryly.

"Yeah, but that's only if I see my boss. He said that I wouldn't have to
deal with him," I added helpfully.

"How can you not have to deal with your boss?" he asked and
shrugged, the movement making his face disappear. The view on my
laptop skewed, presenting me with a diagonal shot of the framed
mallard picture that hung over the fireplace.

"Damn thing," I heard him whisper as he finally centered the camera

back on his face.

"In this case, I'd report to a Senior Manager within the Department.
My boss is the Vice President. I'd be in the trenches while he's off
doing vice presidential things."

"I don't understand the problem here," Dad growled. "Sounds like
you want to take the job more than you don't."

"But that is the problem," I insisted. "I shouldn't want the job because
I can't stand this person. We have some horrible history. But it's my
dream job, so I'm confused. I can't make up my mind."

His eyes narrowed. "What is this horrible history you're talking

about?"

He made me cry, made me doubt who I was. Made me sometimes

wish I'd never been born.

I'd never told Dad anything about the bullying. I'd been too ashamed,
too embarrassed. Coming to live with him was supposed to be an
adult decision. How adult would it have been if I'd gone to him to say
I was being picked on? Besides, I didn't believe in having my dad
fight my battles. Not to mention, he was a sheriff, and the
punishment would have probably been this whole other,
embarrassing thing.

"He was just a real asshole in high school," I said shortly, not
wanting to get into it. Not even wanting to think about it.
"Well, is he still an asshole?"

No, that was the thing. The very terrifying thing.

"He doesn't appear to be. But every time I'd see him, I'd remember
what a bastard he was."

"That kinda tells me everything right there," Dad said. "And while I'm
happy you called me to talk about this, it sounds like you've already
made your decision, and now you're driving yourself nuts trying to
talk yourself out of it. Seems like a waste of time, Bells."

We traded scowls.

"So you're saying I should take the job?"

"Do pigs fly?" he shot back. "I think you should pass on it because I
don't want you unhappy and hurling in public, but I can also tell
you've already made up your mind. I can't tell you it'll be okay, but
nothing's permanent."

I straightened. "That's right. I can always quit."

"Uh, not what I meant," he drawled. "You don't have to stay in

Chicago, you know. Why not move back here where the cost of living
makes some damn sense?"

It was our old, tired argument. He'd been shocked and saddened
when I moved across the country to attend DePaul University in
Chicago for its Marketing course. I'd planned to go to Arizona State
to be closer to Mom, but she'd passed away early my senior year in
high school, and my life had changed drastically. Numb, depressed,
and screwed up, I'd tried to outrun the pain of losing her by moving
to Chicago.

I'd also thought to outrun Dad. If I didn't care about him or see him
so much anymore, maybe his death wouldn't gut me so badly when
he eventually died, too.
Months and months of therapy had eventually set me straight about
that idiotic misconception.

Just like it had taken months and months to acclimate to Chicago. At

first, I'd hated the hustle and bustle of the city. It was entirely different
from anything I'd known before-a huge culture shock. On top of that,
I was hurting, alone, and lonely, and felt like I'd lost my touchstone.

Well, what had I expected? I'd moved away from him.

Chicago gradually grew on me when my college dorm mate, Rose,

started dragging me out of our room on the weekends. We began by
hunting down unusual places, like the Leather Archive Museum,
which was dedicated to the history of bondage and fetishism. The
sight and scent of all that leather, and what it was intended for,
deliciously scandalized me.

We went to the Crown Fountain in Millennium Park with its fifty-foot-

tall video screen that spit water on people. I'd walked under the
mouth of the person pictured on the screen, welcoming the cold
water as it splashed down onto my head, calling it a baptism.

Then there was Ed Debevic's funky, fifties-style diner with sassy

waitstaff who wore costumes to work. A greaser dressed in a white
T-shirt and a bomber jacket, ala James Dean, served me a
hamburger while we traded playful insults. Surprising the hell out of
me, he'd even asked me out at the end of dinner. Although we'd
gone out a few times and had some heavy make-out sessions, we
didn't have much in common, and it had fizzled out.

But, it was fun. It was liberating. There was always something new to
experience, and I began to appreciate the city, to welcome its
diversity. Finally, I felt as if I belonged.

"I'm sorry, Dad, but I'm not moving back to Forks." I sighed. "Right
now, Chicago is where I want to be. Wrigley Field, Millennium Park,
the Dog House."
"Hot dogs," he scoffed. "You're staying for a hot dog."

"And for this job, I guess."

"I don't know why you bothered to ask me about it," he griped.

"I value your advice," I shot back.

"Never listen to it."

"I always consider it."

"And then ignore it."

"Hey, I have plenty of time to make mistakes."

"Hmm," he grunted. "Let's hope this isn't one of them."

Yes, let's.

"Well, I love you no matter what mistakes you make," he said with a
heavy sigh, because declarations of love made him uncomfortable.

"Same," I said, because I was the same .

I was also clearly insane and greedy, because I was accepting the
job at Smith and Devaney. But it wasn't Edward Cullen who was
winning.

I was taking the job because I felt like I could make an impact, and
have fun while doing it.

As long as he stayed out of my sight.

…
Chapter 3
It's Bella's first day at work!

Will Edward be able to keep his distance?

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

Paige, Aileen, Rachel, and Renee, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 3

My pink and black tux blazer with its matching slim crop pants might
be too much for my first day at work, but I didn't care. Sunglasses
on, big black purse on my shoulder, I felt fun, invincible, and
bulletproof.

I got this, I told myself.

Alice loved it. Her eyes actually flew open wide, and she smiled from
ear-to-ear. "You look fine, girl," she said and nodded.

She was the best supervisor I could have hoped for, and not only
because she swore as much as I did. Wearing a blue and green
floral print blouse tucked into black leather pants, she was short and
spritely in killer heels, but her personality was huge.

At first, I'd been worried about dealing with someone who went by
two first names. I'd always thought people who did that were either
from the hills or pretentious, but she was warm and down-to-earth.
"Oh, shit, don't call me Mary Alice," she told me after I'd done just
that. "That name is only for our chi-chi clients who want to feel as if
they're dealing with like-minded souls."

"Should my business cards read Isabella Marie Swan, then?"

Alice tapped a finger against her chin. "I think you'll be a huge hit as
Bella Swan, honestly. Beautiful swan!" She laughed, then cut herself
abruptly short to aim a worried look my way, as if she'd somehow
insulted me.

"It's fine, I'm used to it," I said with a shrug, mentally shaking my
head again at my sentimental mother.

The name had been used to taunt me when I was younger, but since
I'd bloomed, it was more of a friendly joke. I tolerated it, because it
stemmed from a name Mom had given me, and I craved anything
and everything that reminded me of her.

"Oh, thank God," Alice said with a sigh. "If I'd have offended you on
your first day and it affected the way we worked together, Edward
would have my damn head on a plate."

Hearing his name made my heart leap and fill with dread. I just
wanted to forget he worked here. Hopefully, since the common area
was sprawling with rows of numerous cubicles, it would be easy to
avoid him.

Six glass-fronted offices lined a wall, one of which was Edward

Cullen's. The rest belonged to the other five Division Heads,
although none were in yet.

"Colin Smith, our Cofounder and Head of Marketing, works out first
thing every morning, then rolls in bursting with energy around nine,"
Alice explained. "And Stuart Devaney, our other Cofounder and head
of Advertising, drops his boys off at school. Both of them are big
family men."
Alice walked me around and introduced me to the coworkers I would
be working closest with on a daily basis. I forgot everyone's names
except for Seth, who was brown-haired with a baby face and a ready
smile; and Tanya, who stood almost a head taller than I was,
greeting me with a limp handshake and ice in her eyes.

"Just ignore her," Alice whispered dryly as we moved on. "She

doesn't like competition."

I looked at her in confusion. "Competition for what?"

"Male attention."

I huffed out a laugh, then bit my tongue. Was I coming to work for
The Bold and the Beautiful?

Alice took plenty of time to show me the ropes concerning the three
client accounts I was handling, arranging one-on-one interviews with
each client's key contact for later in the week. I was pleasantly
surprised at how much she knew about each of them, and said so.

"I've been covering this desk for close to a month, training with
Stephenie on her way out. But now that you're here, I'm relieved I
get to pass the torch."

My biggest client, and the main one I'd be focusing on, was a
luxurious, artisan made-to-order furnishings business. They sold
things like wallcovering panels, hand-forged iron end tables with
chinoiserie decorated tops, and wood-carved entertainment chests.

"Shin-wahzer-ree?" I repeated with an arched brow.

"It's a fancy way of painting," Alice said. "Just look at their website."

She pulled it up, and on the home page, I saw what looked like a
long, dark gray piece of wall art with thin, intricate gold patterns.

"That's a sculpted, painted wallcovering panel," she said, while

pointing at it like the Wheel of Fortune's Vanna White. "Do you want
to know what the difference is between wallpaper and wallcovering?
About four hundred dollars a yard . Luxe sells these to the trade-
interior designers-whose clients have more money to spend than
God. Certainly, more than I'll ever see in my lifetime."

Luxe wanted one email blast sent out per week, Alice further
explained, which meant I would be handling everything from concept
to delivery-basically, trying to produce ideas for campaigns they
hadn't yet done. It was a lofty task, one that I grew more and more
excited over as she continued.

"You'll need to study their past bank of campaigns, and get up to

speed quickly. If you can come up with a compelling first idea, it'll be
a great way to introduce you to them. I'm sorry, but you're being
thrown into the deep end. Consider this your first test."

"I'm up for it," I told her. "This is what I do, after all."

Alice nodded and smiled, then with a pat against my back, left me to
get started.

My workstation was an L-shaped, all white, matte-lacquered desk,

large enough to accommodate two chairs. The walls around the desk
were covered in tan cloth, and contrasted nicely against the white.
When I sat in my seat, I couldn't see over the top of my cubicle,
which gave me a sense of privacy and quiet.

Alice's cubicle was beside mine. We could see each other if one of
us stood or if we scooted our chairs back and leaned around the
wall.

Over the next few hours, I discovered that none of Luxe's previous
campaigns focused on diversity or inclusion, even though some of
their designers were LGBTQIA. One of their French artwork painter-
sculptors was a transsexual woman who specialized in synesthesia,
which I understood was listening to music and seeing colors or
shapes in the mind.
And just like that, I'd found the subject of what I hoped was their next
campaign. As I was keying in my notes on it, my internal radar
awoke, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Turning my
head, I saw Edward Cullen standing behind me, and I lost my breath.
Steel gray suit, steel gray tie, steel gray colored eyes under heavy,
dark eyebrows.

It was weird how his eyes changed color. Weirder, still, that I even
noticed.

But what the hell was he doing there?

"It's a promising start," he murmured, eyes on my computer screen,

although I sensed he'd been looking at me only a second ago.

With one push, I could have run the back of my chair into his body
and made him step away. But I was in an open plan office with
countless other employees, all of whom could probably see Edward
standing there from their own cubicles. He was the boss on the
loose; I was sure people were tracking his whereabouts.

"A promising start," I ground out, glaring at my computer screen. I

didn't want to look at him, didn't want to witness his in-my-face,
striking beauty. Or his soft eyes, because I could tell from the tone of
his voice, they were soft.

"That's right," he said, inconveniently moving around to the side of

me so he could see something other than the back of my head.
"You've been here, what? Four hours? It's a great start. I think you're
onto something."

I glanced up at him briefly, and his gaze was indeed gentle and
searching, sending lightning through my veins. I lowered my eyes to
the safer, clean lines of his crisp white shirt, shot through with thin
gray lines. When he moved to the chair next to me, I started to panic.

Please don't sit, please don't sit.

Maybe sensing my dread, he remained standing and simply rested
his hand on the back of it.

"How are you liking it here so far?"

His tone was warm and friendly, still unlike anything I was used to
hearing from him in the past, which made my heart twist. God, he
was tying me up in knots .

"Until a minute ago, it was great," I snapped, then immediately felt

childish and idiotic.

Why was he here?

Go away, Edward Cullen. You promised I wouldn't have to deal with

you!

"I'm glad you accepted the offer," he said, ignoring my outburst. "I
knew you'd be a great addition to the team."

From the corner of my eye, I could see him standing there looking
down at me, his hand resting casually on the back of the other chair.

He was obviously waiting for something from me.

A fist to the dick?

"Thank you," I said, again throwing a brief look his way.

His eyes were still overwhelming and laser-focused on me. Jaw a bit
tense. Hair chaotic as usual.

Beautiful, of course.

Asshole.

"Well, I'll let you get back to it," he said and backed off.

Finally.
We were supposed to act like polite strangers, but I didn't feel like
being polite. With a small groan, I slumped over my keyboard. Then,
my bottom lip clenched between my teeth, I swiveled in my chair and
glared after him. As I'd asked, he hadn't looked at me apologetically,
but he'd been… too damn nice . It threw me off balance because I
didn't know how to act around him if I wasn't being defensive or
feeling hurt. My feelings weren't just going to go away, no matter how
he treated me now.

Was he being a clueless idiot, thinking everything was cool between

us now simply because I'd accepted his job offer? I mean, surely not.
He couldn't be that stupid. He didn't seem that stupid.

As I turned back to my computer, I noticed the red-haired woman in

the cubicle across from my desk almost glaring at me before she
looked away. Tanya. Wearing an emerald green blouse, she was
standing up, looking angry and nonplussed after Edward.

"Everything all right?"

She seemed to do a double take at my voice.

"Everything's fine," she said rather dismissively before she turned

away.

Okay, then.

The next few weeks passed quickly as I immersed myself in my new

job and familiarized myself with my clients.

Luxe loved my idea of focusing on diversity and inclusion, so each

week's ad showcased that-either a piece of work focusing on that
culture, or an artist was highlighted. They were so impressed with
my ideas they asked for my assistance with brand management in
their print and digital materials, and also with their in-house
marketing needs for business cards, headshots, and employee
spotlights. Combined with doing work for my other clients as well, I
began to thrive under the pressure.

Through Alice, I learned that Edward was pleased with the work I
was doing. He'd even asked her to see if I was interested in
attending the weekly meeting to collaborate and idea-bounce, but I
politely declined. From what I understood, only each department's
Senior Account Managers attended those meetings, and I was
determined to be just like any other employee clicking away at her
keyboard.

"If you keep producing this level of work for our clients, you'll be
promoted to Senior Account Manager in no time," Alice told me.

It was a double-edged sword. A promotion would be great but would

probably entail working closer with Edward.

Nearly every day, he found a convenient reason to walk past my

cubicle. Either he needed to talk to Alice or Tanya, or he was just
passing by. There were several rows he could have chosen to walk
down, but it seemed as if he deliberately chose the one behind me.

My hair stood on end each time. My blood raced and flooded my

face and neck with heat. It confused and angered me. Why was I so
aware of him? It didn't make sense. It wasn't normal. He might have
been a reformed bully, but I still hated him.

Maybe hate was too strong of a word. Maybe… I just didn't trust him.

No. When he stood silently behind me, deliberately taunting me with

his presence-after he'd said in the interview I wouldn't have to deal
with him-I pretty much hated him. The pit in my stomach always
mushroomed into discomfort at his nearness. I kept expecting him to
do an about-face like he used to do, kept expecting him to yank the
rug out from underneath my feet, revealing the dickhead I
remembered.
I was aware of the saying about there being a thin line between love
and hate, but my line was thicker and flirted between hate and
dislike, with an extra helping of distrust.

There was absolutely no love there. Especially since I had the

distinct impression he was trying to soften me up, that he was trying
to make me like or accept him.

I played Devil's Advocate-would I still feel the same level of

discomfort and anger if he'd been an ugly man?

Yes, because he was still taking too much of an interest in me, when
I just wanted to be invisible to him.

In fact, I resented that he happened to be gorgeous, because good-

looking people knew they could get away with almost anything. And
obviously, he was trying because he didn't care about keeping his
promise to me.

Yeah, he was going to drive me crazy.

I imagined him tied to a chair interrogation-style, emotionally beaten,

trying to hide his pain and fear, as I stood over him and laughed
mercilessly.

He'd soon find out I wasn't the same girl he once knew. I was a
badass wearing Wildfang, whose tagline was, Wear you, not
someone else, and I rolled over for no one. Least of all for someone
who'd hurt me so badly in the past. I'd endured him in high school,
learned how to cope with Mom's death, and had the balls to take a
job where he worked. I wasn't letting my past dictate my future.

I was a survivor.

Maybe a little broken still, but who wasn't?

Chapter 4
I know people are interested in Edward's POV, and I understand
why, but this is Bella's story and journey. I want readers to
discover answers when Bella does. Meanwhile, I like making
you wonder about him. Mwahaha.

Maybe once the story is complete, if people still have questions

about Edward, I'll do an EPOV outtake.

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

Paige, Aileen, Rachel, and Renee, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 4

Nearly a month into my employment, I read something on the online

company newsletter that filled me with horror and dread.

Mandatory Company Event

Friday, May 15, 6:00 pm

Twilight's End on E Chicago Ave.

Karaoke and Cocktails

I'd met Colin Smith and Stuart Devaney, the cofounders of the
business where I worked. They'd both seemed like normal, happy-
go-lucky family men who loved their company, but obviously, they
were sadists in disguise if they were making employees attend such
a function.

The company fostered what they called a No One is Smarter than

Everyone working environment, which basically meant that guidance
and support was intermingled throughout the departments. In my
role as an Account Manager, I could seek assistance from a number
of co-workers across the board, as well as from Alice, my immediate
supervisor, or Edward, the head of my department.

Of course, I'd have quit before ever seeking guidance from Edward.
Fortunately, there didn't appear to be anything I couldn't do without
him.

But in the company's quest to foster an open working environment,

they held mandatory, bi-annual employee events outside of the
office. Except for Colin Smith and Stuart Devaney, anyway, because
Alice said they didn't want to make anyone feel self-conscious at
these events.

What a great way to get out of attending.

Unable to get out of attending, Alice and I arrived late at the club on
the night in question. There was a sign on the door that read Closed
for Private Event.

This was such a bad idea. Who hosted employee get-togethers with
booze? It seemed like a recipe for disaster. Plus, had I known I'd be
expected to attend such a thing, let alone possibly sing at it, I might
have declined the job. Short of pretending to faint, I was going to do
whatever I could to get out of it.

Twilight's End was intimate and gorgeous, and looked like we were
outside at night. Dark blue walls lit with tiny decorative strings of
lights led my eye to the black dome ceiling with a glow in the dark
sky of the constellations.
Was that the Big Dipper?

"Wow," Alice said.

I looked over at her, and saw her head was also tilted back.

The seating was dark blue velvet with a raised stage at the end of
the room, upon which stood three microphones and dual mounted
TV monitors. Soft rock played through hidden speakers as Alice led
me directly to the bar.

"Let's gird our loins," she said. "We're going to need it."

Beyond the bar, clustered in front of the stage, were our fifty-or-so
coworkers situated around small square tables, some of which had
been pushed together to form bigger seating areas. A few people
were standing. With glasses or beer bottles in hand, all of them
seemed to be chatty and in good moods, utterly unfazed about the
prospect of singing in front of everyone.

Among them stood Edward, bronze hair glinting under the dim
lighting, crisp button up shirt undone at the throat, with the sleeves
rolled up past his strong forearms. I'd done a good job avoiding
looking at him whenever he passed near my cubicle at work,
pretending he didn't exist even if he hadn't extended me the same
courtesy, but there was no missing him now. He was talking, easily
commanding the attention of everyone nearby, smiling wide and
showing off those perfect teeth of his.

Suddenly aware I was staring, I jerked my gaze away, but not before
he caught me.

Damn it.

"Two Long Island Iced Teas, please," I heard Alice say.

"Alice," I yelped. "I'm not getting drunk."

And there went my internal radar as Edward approached.

"You two are up first," he said behind me in his unmistakably smooth
voice, and there was a distinct tone of laughter in his tone. "You
know the rule, Alice."

I kept my gaze on Alice. "What rule?"

"Last ones to the party go first," Edward said.

I gaped at Alice, noticing the signs that revealed her guilt-the way
she bit her lip, the hunch of her slight shoulders, the blush on her
cheeks as she met my eyes. Since she'd treated me to dinner before
we got here, she'd deliberately ensured we'd arrived late.

What the hell?

"You-you-you," I stammered, feeling as if the ceiling was caving in.

Kind of hoping it was, actually.

"It's not entirely her fault," Edward continued over my shoulder, and I
felt his warmth as he moved closer. Too close. "We do this to all the
new hires if we get the opportunity."

They what?

"Give us a few minutes," she said to Edward. "Bella needs some

fortification."

"Fine," Edward said.

He still hadn't moved away, and I wanted to slam my elbow back into
his stomach. Of course, that wouldn't have fostered the healthy
employee interaction this little shindig was supposed to generate.

"We'll make an exception for Bella just this one time."

" Isa bella," I gritted, moving away from him.

Alice, who looked perplexed and fascinated by our interchange,

handed me a drink. It was heavy and icy cold in my hand, and I
imagined turning around and throwing it into Edward's face.

"I'll go first," he said.

I finally relaxed as I felt him move away, noticing the crook of Alice's
eyebrow.

"You were a pretty good supervisor up to this point," I growled at her,

and she laughed, thinking I was joking.

We found chairs next to a big, dark-haired guy with a quick smile that
fell when he saw me sit.

"You're not singing?" he asked.

"Not if I can help it," I replied dryly, as Edward climbed up on the

stage. He looked easy and comfortable up there, but then he would
have to be, being in charge as he was.

It was really unfair for such a douchebag to be so good-looking.

"Edward's cutting her some slack," Alice said, and raised her Long
Island Iced Tea. "Bella needs some liquid courage first. Bella, this is
Emmett McCarty. He works in Advertising."

Emmett was still looking at me in surprise. "But he never lets the new
hires get out of this."

"Oh, she's not getting out of it," Alice replied, as I frowned.

The soft music in the club cut off then, and I heard the loud
beginning strains of George Michael's "Praying for Time . " As
Edward plucked up one of the microphones, he spoke briefly as the
music played.

"I'm changing things up by going first this time, but everyone still has
to play. Especially Isabella."

Oh no, he didn't just call me out.

His amplified voice against the music sounded nice. Really nice. And
as he began singing the first nonsense words to the song, my body's
temperature climbed.

Was there anything Edward Cullen couldn't do well?

Fucker.

Edward's voice wasn't as light or smooth as George Michael's was,

but he still sounded pretty good. As I glanced around the room, I saw
that everyone was into his performance. Especially the women, but
what woman wouldn't be attracted to Edward?

Jessica Stanley, the company's receptionist, looked like she was

panting. I could actually see her chest heaving.

Alice tapped my shoulder. "Drink. He's going to make you sing next,"
she threatened.

Fuck.

I took more than a few sips from my drink, wincing and glaring at
Edward up on the stage as he sang about God keeping score. Each
time his gaze swung my way, my traitorous heart lurched. As the
song neared its end, his eyes met mine and held. Somehow, he
seemed to make his expressive eyes carry the message he was
singing.

" And it's hard to love

There's so much to hate

Hanging on to hope

When there is no hope to speak of

And the wounded skies above

Say it's much, too much, too late

Well, maybe we should all be praying for time"

By the time he was done singing, I didn't know if my blood was

boiling more from anger or desire.

I hated him.

Hated that he had this power over me. After my past with him, I
shouldn't be attracted to him at all, and I didn't understand how I
could be now.

And as our gaze held, he gave me a smirk.

I wanted to flip him off so badly.

Instead, I preempted him; I didn't give him the pleasure of having to

call me up to the stage.

Since I knew I was next, I took another quick gulp from my drink and
stood, while Edward was still being catcalled and receiving
accolades for his performance. In my navy pencil skirt and white
wrap around blouse that tied high on my hip, I knew I looked good,
so I took comfort from that. So while I was nervous as hell, I also felt
confident.

It was probably the alcohol.

Surprise lit Edward's gaze as I made my way to him, maybe from my

ready compliance or the challenge in my eyes. I couldn't help smiling
as I stole his catcalls and applause, although I was sure he didn't
have a clue about why I was smiling.

I was rising to his dare, the prick.

He wasn't moving as I climbed up the stage to him. He was standing

still, waiting for me with a kind of entranced look of puzzlement on
his face, which threw me for a moment. I didn't want him looking at
me that way; it stole my breath.
Instead of walking to him like I'm sure he expected, I stopped at the
far microphone.

"Ladies and gents, it's Isabella Swan, our newest Account Manager,"
Edward said smoothly, sounding unfazed by my move. With a sweep
of his arm, he set his microphone back into its stand and, ignoring
the steps, hopped off the stage with a flourish. How old was he,
twelve?

"Uh, hello," I said, momentarily at a loss under everyone's stares. I

spun to the karaoke machine's song choices, praying they had what
I was looking for. When I found it, I almost jumped with joy, only
barely restraining myself.

After I entered the song's code into the machine, I turned back to my
audience of coworkers and smiled woodenly. Edward, I saw to my
shock, hadn't returned to a seat. Instead, he was standing nearby
with Tanya, casually leaning back against a wall with his arms
crossed.

Was he trying to intimidate me?

Didn't he know those days were over?

Long over.

I couldn't sing well. My voice was always a little off key. But I was
determined to nail this song, whatever it took. I squared my
shoulders and took a breath, forgetting the microphone was below
my mouth, ruining my moment of bravado.

"Hey, give me a break, this is scary as hell," I admitted into

everyone's soft laughter.

"You got this," Alice yelled.

I did. I got this. I'd get it, or die trying, anyway.

As the song began, I glanced at Edward because the words were
immediate and were for him.

" Don't look at me," I whispered into the mic, hoping I racked him
with my stare. Hoping I'd rack him with this song.

The women in the audience began whooping.

"Whoa, girl!"

"Yeah, get it."

I couldn't begin to make the nonsense sounds Christina Aguilera

made at the beginning of the song, so I waited for the words, looking
anywhere but at the man standing too damn close.

" Every day is so wonderful

Then suddenly, it's hard to breathe

Now and then I get insecure

From all the pain

I'm so ashamed"

I tried to make the words conversational like Christina did in her

song, drawing out the "a" and "o" sounds. I was actually pleasantly
surprised; my voice sounded good, mainly because the register of
the song was low enough for me.

Looking out at my audience showed they were into my version of the

song, and I felt my body relax.

I could do this.

I was doing it.

Feeling brave, not caring if it was the alcohol, I looked back at
Edward as I sang the next words.

" I am beautiful no matter what they say

Words can't bring me down

I am beautiful in every single way

Yes, words can't bring me down, oh no

So don't you bring me down today"

As soon as I began singing, Edward's stance changed; his arms

dropped from being crossed, and he stood up from the wall. Before I
looked away, I thought I saw pain in his eyes.

I hoped that was what it was.

I wanted him to hurt.

I wanted him to feel all of it, to remember how he'd once hurt me.

But I also wanted him to see he hadn't broken me.

And as I continued with the song, I felt it myself. I might have been
broken once, and I might still remember the hurt too well… but I
wasn't broken.

No, I was singing about how I was beautiful in every single way, and
nailing it.

As I sang the last words, I looked back at Edward with my head held
high. I even smiled.

Edward wasn't smiling. He was remembering, hurting, I could see it

from there. See it in his body language.

I was glad.
I was.

" Oooh-oh-oh, yeah

Don't you bring me down today

Yeah, ooh

Don't you bring me down"

I held his gaze until the last word. Feeling cocky I'd succeeded with
my dart, I smirked at him.

My audience was going crazy, tearing my gaze away from the man
who was moving over to the front of the stage.

"That was awesome, Bella!" Jessica yelled.

The women were catcalling me as loudly as they'd done for Edward.

Maybe they were even cat-calling louder, because the song I'd just
sung was for all of the girls who'd been relegated to corners, who'd
been ignored, or been jeered at. I'd just shown them all they couldn't
be kept down, that they wouldn't be kept down.

As I placed the mic back in its stand, Edward moved over to the
bottom of the steps, and my heart stopped.

No. I wouldn't let him near me.

I was in heels, but that wasn't going to stop me, damn it. I was flying
high.

I walked to the edge of the stage and hopped off like Edward had.
And I had two seconds to enjoy my victorious dismount before my
heels slid out from under me, and I landed on my ass.

Fuck.
Before I could get my legs under myself, I noticed there were two
different hands coming at me: Edward's and another man who I
hadn't yet met. Ignoring Edward, even though he was closer, I
looked past him up into the other man's face, reaching out for his
hand.

Save me, stranger. Please.

"Excuse me, Jacob," Edward said with a scowl, roughly shouldering

the other man out of the way as he leaned down to me. I tried to pull
back, but Edward sensed my move and, lightning quick, reached
forward to grasp my hand. His fingers came warm and strong around
my hand, and I felt a spark of tingling sensation as he pulled me up.
His tug was so hard I was propelled into his chest, and had to use
the palm of my free hand to keep from falling completely against him.

Mouth agape, my entire body icy-hot in awareness of being so close

to his, I stared up at him in angry shock. He was nearly a head taller
than me, which meant his stomach was in perfect range for a gut
punch and, oh man, did I want to. As his hands came to rest against
my upper back-ostensibly to steady my poor, klutzy body-my fingers
curled and I dug my nails into the fabric covering his warm chest.

"People are watching," he ground out, his eyes black with anger.

I rearranged my face into a toothy smile. "Let. Go."

He released me so abruptly that I tottered unsteadily away from him.

Fucker.

Then, he took my upper arm in his hand, as if I was drunk on my feet

and needed assistance walking, and escorted me all gentleman-like
back to the table where Alice was sitting with a fascinated look on
her face. I knew she saw the little ways I tried to yank away from
him, that she saw him drag me close in a forced, good-natured hug.

"Behave," he said and laughed, as if we were having the best time.

"Fuck off," I bit back, using his favorite phrase, smiling as widely as
he was.

"Wow," Alice said as I almost fell into my seat. She could barely
control her smile as Edward's hands came to rest on my shoulders.
He bent forward, the side of his head almost against mine. His
mouth was inches from my cheek.

"I think we need to talk," he said, squeezing my shoulders

meaningfully, then louder, "Thanks for the song and dance," he
added suggestively, then he was gone. He walked quickly back to
the other side of the room where I saw Tanya move in close to
commiserate with him.

I kept feeling the way he'd squeezed my shoulders. I had

goosebumps.

What the hell?

And, he thought we needed to talk?

Shit, shit, shit.

"This is historic !" Alice laughed, drawing my attention away. "I've

never seen such heavy, meaningful performances. Edward's was
actually kind of sexy."

Edward wasn't being sexy by singing that song. He'd only been
making a point, and annoying me in the process, because yes, damn
it, he had been sexy up there.

"Aren't you up next?" I asked, pointing a finger at the stage.

"What is going on with you two?" Alice asked, ignoring my question.

"I thought you met him for the first time only a couple of weeks ago,
but it's apparent now that you have some kind of history. Spill. "

I was saved from replying when people began chanting her name.
" Alice, Alice, Alice."

She made a weird sound of impatience. "Oh, damn it all to hell." As

she stood, she leaned close to me. "This isn't over."

Over? Fuck that, it wasn't even going to begin .

Chapter 5
Another gird-your-loins chapter!

It's an emotional one.

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

Paige, Aileen, Rachel, and Renee, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 5

Fifteen minutes before quitting time on Monday, I received a private

Teams chat message.

Edward Cullen mentioned you.

Just when I thought the coast was clear. That he had forgotten those
words he'd said to me Friday night.

We need to talk.

I squinted at my computer monitor. The number one in the red ball

sat there at the bottom of the screen of my Teams app taunting me,
making it impossible to ignore. However, I gave it a good shot over
the next ten minutes or so, trying to focus on what I'd been doing
before he'd interrupted me. I could tell him I hadn't seen his message
until it was too late.
What did he want? Was it work-related, or did it have something to
do with Friday night?

We need to talk.

Edward and those words, along with their implication, had haunted
my dreams over the weekend. Just what the hell did he want to talk
about?

I hadn't done anything wrong. All I'd done was respond in kind to the
challenge he'd first thrown to me. That song he sang-saying he
hoped I'd learn to forgive, that he'd pray for it…

Don't hold your breath, buddy. The way my fists clenched at the
thought of forgiving him told me I wasn't ready yet.

Years ago, I guessed I'd lied to my therapist when I claimed I'd

moved past him and the bullying, because I did not forgive Edward
Cullen. Forgiving him would mean denying all those times he'd made
seventeen-year-old Bella cry and feel worthless.

But maybe I'd been too obvious when I sang the song? It had been
such fun, and so freeing, though. I'd felt as if I was having my say
about his actions toward me in high school, and damned if I was
going to feel badly about it. Of course, there was also the way I'd
reacted to him-stiff, aghast, and just fucking furious-once he'd put his
hands on me. Maybe someone other than Alice had noticed?

I glanced back at the red ball.

He'd be able to tell when I read the message. He'd see the eyeball's
notification that showed I'd read what he sent, and I'd have to
respond.

Damn it, I might as well read it since I couldn't seem to concentrate

on anything else at the moment.
I clicked on the Teams app, then moved my cursor over to the chat
bubble. And I was going to click it… I was … when my phone rang,
startling me so badly that I yelped and jumped in my chair.

The digital readout on my phone read E Cullen.

Fuck.

"Isabella Swan," I said crisply.

"Please come to my office," he said, his voice smooth and polite. "
Now ."

Well, that was less polite.

Feeling as if I was going to my doom, I stood from my chair and

peeked over the wall into Alice's office. She was busily typing and
didn't even notice I'd stood. She'd been somewhat aloof with me
today.

On Friday night, all I'd told her was that Edward and I had gone to
high school together, that we'd hung out with different people. She'd
been disappointed with my short explanation, and had given me a
look that suggested she didn't believe me. So, I'd gone on to explain
that those years weren't good memories for me and I didn't really
want to discuss them. She'd left it at that, but I knew someday she'd
want more.

"Alice? Do you need anything before we leave for the day? I've been
summoned to Edward's office," I said, hoping she'd be concerned or
at least curious about why she hadn't been included.

"Nope, I'm good," Alice answered, not even turning away from her
monitor. "If I'm gone before you get back, have a great evening."

Well, shit.

"Okay, thanks. You, too."

She left me with no other alternative but to head to Edward's office
alone. Taking a breath, I straightened my shoulders and turned,
eyeing the office with its glass-fronted window across the room.
Edward was an open-door boss; I never saw it closed. But now that I
was standing and looking directly into his doorway, I realized his
desk was positioned in sight of my cubicle. I could actually see the
side of his body, and then, his face, as if he felt my gaze, or as if he
was looking to see if I was finally coming.

It shocked me into moving. Suddenly, I was striding with purposeful

steps toward my boss who wore a distinctly impatient look on his
face. Even more disturbing, he didn't once move his gaze off me as I
approached. And was it my imagination, or had his eyes drifted
lightning-quick down my body?

"Please shut the door," he said when I arrived in his doorway,

surprising the hell out of me. I hoped it didn't show on my face
because I didn't want to let him know how he was affecting me.

"Have a seat," he told me as I turned.

"I'd rather stand. It's almost five," I reminded him in case he'd
forgotten.

"Have a seat," he repeated firmly.

Instead of taking the chair directly in front of him, I sank down into
the one that was catty-corner. The dress I wore hiked up to mid-thigh
as I crossed my legs. They were toned and well shaped, and if they
had the power to throw him off the way I felt he was trying to throw
me off, I was going with it.

I also knew I was being bratty, but I was nervous about what he
wanted. Hell, I was nervous around him in general.

Edward was in a cornflower blue shirt today, which made his eyes
look more blue than green. Under his heavy, dark eyebrows, they
appeared calm, yet determined. I saw them narrow slightly before he
stood, coming around the desk to take the chair beside me. He even
helpfully turned my way, leaving me nowhere to hide.

"I think we need to get a few things straight," he began.

My heart began to pound then race from the look in his eyes. Little
shivers began to run up my back, and I felt antsy as hell. I wanted to
look away, but that would have been a sign of weakness, which I
definitely was not feeling.

Liar .

"I told myself if you took this job, we would keep our personal selves-
our past-out of our working relationship," he continued, his gaze
holding mine. "I wanted you to succeed here, for my relationship with
you to remain professional. So, I apologize for bringing it up last
Friday with the song. You didn't deserve that."

You could have knocked me over with a pinky finger.

Nowhere between the words he spoke were derision or anger, and

my body, my breathing, continued to react at how he was looking at
me. He was one hell of a sexy guy who was probably more than
aware how his appearance, his stare, affected a woman. He was
using those eyes now, not letting me go, pinning me in place.

"I accept your apology," I replied, maybe a little out of breath, then
gave him a questioning look.

Is that all?

After a moment, I saw a crack appear in his smooth facade; he

almost bit his lower lip.

"That's it?" he asked. "You're not going to apologize also?"

"You started it," I retorted, then immediately winced.

No, I did not just say that.

Edward's eyes lightened and his mouth twitched, as if he wanted to
smile.

"I mean, I was just responding to what you did. But since you
apologized, I will, too. I shouldn't have reacted to your offer of help
with such anger, I guess."

My reply made him full-on smile, and the gorgeousness of it shook

me. Damn him! Why was he looking at me like that?

"Is that all?" I asked, making a move to stand.

"No," he said, the smile disappearing as quickly as it had come. "I

understand you have a problem with me, and I can't begin to tell you
how I regret the reason why," he began softly. "But I'd like to try to
put our past behind us. I'd like to try to become friends. Or if not
friends, at least polite acquaintances and good coworkers."

Then, he gave me a questioning look.

My throat went dry. He was bringing up our past even though I'd
expressly asked him not to, acting as though it wasn't any big deal,
and then skirting it by asking us to be friends.

He wanted us to be friends?

The idea was unfathomable to me.

Shit, he really was a nice guy now, if a bit deluded. Still, it didn't
mean I wasn't having trouble reconciling the man in front of me with
the asshole boy I used to know. It made me feel angry and
defensive, because I wasn't where he was in our so-called
relationship.

"Wow. If only you'd had this mindset back in high school when I
really needed it," I said, my tone full of snark.

He raised an eyebrow at me, but continued to regard me gently.

"Yes, but I'm asking now, Bella."
Hearing him say my name slammed my heart into my throat. It was
powerful coming from him. It was too much, actually, and I felt my
face flush.

He leaned forward in his chair toward me, and for a panicked

second, I thought he was going to touch my knee. But he was just
trying to use his body, his presence, to intimidate me into accepting
what he wanted.

It nearly worked.

"Only my friends call me Bella," I said, and my voice was thin with
emotion. Damn it. "And we're not there yet. I don't know if we could
ever be f-friends, though."

He gave me a soft smile of regret. "No?"

"No," I answered in a stronger tone, leaning back in my chair. Away

from him.

He sighed and stood, walking over to the window behind his desk,
presenting me with his wide shoulders and a well-shaped back. In
response, my eyes closed in relief, and my body sagged before I
could give it permission to do so. I hadn't realized how stiff I'd been.

When I opened my eyes again, I realized with horror that he'd been
watching me through the window's reflection.

Wanted.

To.

Die.

"Then we'll be acquaintances, with everything that entails," Edward

said, pushing his hands into his pants pockets. "We'll smile when we
pass each other, and we'll say hello like civilized people, giving no
one cause to suspect anything might be wrong between us."

He turned to face me, his expression one of careful patience. So

now he knew; I was not ready to forgive his ass. And because of
that, he'd probably discover that dealing with me was going to be
tiresome at best, and irritating at worst. Maybe it would make him
leave me the hell alone.

"I'm going to ask you to be more circumspect in your interactions

with me. Too many people noticed us for the wrong reasons last
Friday, and while I understand part of that was due to the liquor and
high emotions, I see them watching us now. We both need to be
careful."

Okay, then why had he asked me into his office and had me close
the door? Because I was sure that didn't go unnoticed.

"Agreed," I snapped.

"If you have a problem with me, I want you to address it with me
personally."

Oh, hell.

"I'm a consummate professional and I enjoy my job. I'm not going to

do anything to jeopardize it, and I'm certainly not going to let my past
with you affect it," I said, my voice climbing higher with each word.

It would be easier if he'd just let me be.

"Great, that's what I want to hear," he said, but he was staring at the
floor.

It didn't look like what he wanted to hear. For some reason, I had the
thought that I'd hurt him. Which was ridiculous, because I'd never
held any power over Edward Cullen.

"What else do you want from me?"

His eyes rose to mine. "Isn't it obvious?"

"You want forgiveness," I ground out heavily. "Is that it?" Angry now, I
stood. "You knocked me down for years, and I'm just supposed to let
it all go? Maybe if I got a chance to knock your ass down in front of
all your peers and-"

"Would that really make you feel better?" he interrupted, cool against
my heat. "Seeing me look like a vulnerable fool in front of everyone?
Because it never did me. More than that, it would also make you the
female version of who I used to be, and I'm not sure you want that.
But that time you fell in the cafeteria? It was because you tripped
over my foot. I did not push you. I would never have done that."

But he also hadn't helped me up. He'd just stood there with everyone
else laughing while I tried to swallow back tears. I realized now that
kids could be unintentionally cruel because they were afraid to stand
up when another kid was being bullied, but back then, it had been
black and white; all I knew was that no one had helped me. No one
had dared go against him.

I shook my head, willing away the emotion that bubbled up into my

throat. How quickly it had come, and how vivid the memories still
were. I thought I'd dealt with them, but I hadn't expected having to
fucking talk about them face-to-face with Edward Cullen.

I'd certainly never expected a nice guy; he would have been easier
for me to deal with if he'd been the same asshole I remembered.

I pressed the back of my hand against my trembling mouth. "It's

going to take time. I'm not used to not hating you."

His eyes were still soft. "I have time. And I can be patient when I
need to be."

I nodded, having to move my gaze away from him.

"I really am sorry for how I treated you," he murmured.

Please stop saying that. It makes me want to cry.

"I understand," I said, moving a step backward toward the door.

Damn it, my knees were shaking. "And I'll be careful in our
interactions." I took another step. Because I needed to go. "You
know, so no one would ever guess I once hated you, and still might."
I chuckled weakly.

Edward didn't look as if he shared my humor, but he also wasn't the

one being led by his emotions at the moment, while I felt stripped to
the bone.

"You know, you could pretend I was invisible and didn't matter," I
ventured. Like he used to do, and like he'd once said about me.

Holding my gaze, he shook his head once. "Impossible. Not only are
you a beautiful woman, but you're exceeding expectations with your
work."

I didn't hear anything after the words you are a beautiful woman.

Oh my God, did he just say I was beautiful? Wasn't that

inappropriate in the workplace?

I nodded, then realized it made me look like I was agreeing with him.

I spun around, quickly making my way to the closed door. I had just
placed my fingers around the knob when he spoke again.

"Bella."

Why couldn't he get my name right? And why did it have to sound so
goddamn good coming from him?

"Yes, Ed?"

"I'm still glad you're here."

I half-turned and found him giving me a smoldering stare. I felt it all
the way down to my toes; fuck, it almost flattened me against the
door.

Stop with the compliments and stares, would you? I don't know how
to deal with them.

"Yes, well, I won't be here for much longer," I said inanely, deflecting
his compliment. "It's quitting time."

And I left, pulling the door closed behind me so I wouldn't feel his
stare as I ran away.

As I jogged back to my desk on the almost empty office floor, I was

troubled by a distressing thought, something I acknowledged fully for
the first time.

A small part of me was beginning to like this new version of Edward

Cullen.
Chapter 6
Some of you are afraid Bella is caving too soon because
Edward is so pretty. She's definitely susceptible to his looks,
but that's it. Same as he is of her shell. Other than that, neither
really knows the other; they didn't know the first thing about
each other in high school, and they still don't now. They're in
the early stages of getting to know each other.

Yes, Edward has some atoning to do. And I promise, he will.

He'll be on his knees and groveling and-

But that's another chapter.

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

Paige, Aileen, Rachel, and Renee, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 6

I flipped and flopped in bed that night, pounding my pillow fiercely,

pretending it was Edward Cullen's stomach.

Part of me was starting to like him?

What a crock of shit.

That would be like trying to befriend a lion who was hungry and
wanting to make a meal out of me. An utterly idiotic, no-win situation.

And why was I equating Edward to a hungry lion? That was too sexy
of an image.

Unbidden, I began to imagine him taking what he wanted, just riding

roughshod over my objections as he reached out to grab me, pulling
me against his naked chest.

Stop it, horny imagination.

I hated that I thought he was beautiful and sexy. I hated that his
patient charm was wearing down my resistance. I hated that he
seemed so different from the angry boy in my memories. Liking him,
even a little, seemed like the worst kind of betrayal to seventeen-
year-old Bella.

Edward Cullen had made her cry and feel like worthless trash many
times.

Now, he wanted my forgiveness for all of it. I could tell he wanted it

badly, too, but I didn't understand why it mattered to him so much.
Surely, he had better things in life to want, especially considering he
seemed so far removed from who he used to be. He'd left the
asshole behind and emerged on top of his game. I wouldn't have
thought my place in his life back then registered much with him.

My throat tightened. Would he want my forgiveness so much if I was

still fat and unattractive? Would he still look at me all soft and gentle,
practically imploring me to give him what he wanted, if I was ugly?

The thought brought my arms up and around my body in a hug. It

hurt a lot, because I didn't think he'd waste much time on me at all, if
I hadn't bloomed into what I looked like today. Beautiful on the
outside or not, the girl he'd picked on was still very much a part of
me. And it should have been enough to disgust me and turn me off
him completely, but damn it! He was difficult to resist, both his
beautifully contrite face and his persuasive words, and I could feel
myself… weakening.

I was pathetic.

Mars, as it turned out, wasn't accepting new students; I'd have to

stay on Earth.

I also couldn't change my biology class.

Well, it was either that or gym.

I weighed the pros and cons in my mind. Sweating and panting after
girls thinner than me while running around in an ugly gym uniform
that revealed how big my butt was, or grinning and bearing whatever
Cullen threw my way.

Maybe the gym class could help me lose some weight. Then again,
gym class wouldn't improve my chances at getting into college; God
knew I definitely wasn't going after any kind of sports scholarship.
But advanced biology might.

Fine. I'd stick with biology.

I made sure I arrived at class early. There was no way I was

stumbling down the aisle in front of Cullen and his sidekicks again.

When they arrived and saw me, they picked up right where they left
off.

" She's baaaaaaack," the one with floppy blond hair said, as he and
his friend made their way to the table in front of where I sat.

Nothing like stating the obvious. Couldn't go wrong there.

Cullen strolled in just before the bell rang, rolling his eyes when he
saw me sitting there. I knew, because I kept my gaze on him until he
sneered at me and I had to look away.
" Knew it was too good to be true your ass was gone," he ground
out.

" Knew it was too g-good to be true your ass would have d-dropped
the class," I said in response, which made the three of them laugh.

" Y-You got me there, Fugly," he replied.

I ignored him after that.

And then the biology teacher called me out.

" Hello again," he said cheerfully. "You must be Isabella Swan?"

I nodded, trying not to cringe.

" Ugly duckling," Cullen said softly beside me. "You'll never be
anything but that."

I turned to glare at him. Just what was his problem with me?

" Fuck off," I said, using his phrase.

Glancing at the teacher to make sure he wasn't looking our way,

Cullen slid menacingly toward me. He came close enough that I felt
his body's heat.

" Don't fuck with me, Isabella Swan," he said in a steely, quiet tone
that made the hair on my skin rise. "Or I'll fuck with you so badly,
you'll wish you were dead."

As he glared with his pretty eyes into my own wide ones, I kind of
already wished I were dead. Or invisible. Or sweating in the gym.

Before he moved away, he shoved my books onto the floor. They hit
with a loud thwack that caught everyone's attention, and I burst into
flames of embarrassment.
" Sorry," I whispered to everyone and no one as I scrambled to pick
them up.

" You're pathetic," Cullen said to me afterward.

For some reason, he kept staring at me. Before I knew what he was
doing, he slid close to me again, his hand coming up to gather the
long strands of hair at my neck. I felt a loose tugging that eventually
grew tighter, and realized he was wrapping my hair around his wrist.

" That's right," Cullen said, and it was a hot whisper against my ear.
Weirdly, his voice wasn't ugly and mocking like I was used to
hearing, but sinfully silky and playful. "I'm going to fuck… with you …
so bad."

He pulled my head back by my hair, and I heard my heartbeat in my

ears- buh-bang, buh-bang, buh-bang- and wondered what the hell
was going on. When my eyes darted his way, I saw the five o'clock
shadow of a beard on Edward Cullen's jaw, his eyes on my mouth as
he drew near.

The world tilted on its axis, dumping me headfirst into my bed as I

woke myself up with a shriek.

Holy hell, what was that? With my heart beating a marathon in my

throat, I scissored my legs under the bed covers.

"Goddammit!" I yelled into the dark silence of my bedroom.

Getting ready for work later that morning was weird.

I felt off. Vulnerable. Embarrassed, and as though someone would

be able to sense I'd almost had a sex dream about my boss just by
looking at me.

No, damn it! The dream had been about my childhood bully who'd
turned into my amorous boss.
Freud would have had a field day.

Talk about a head trip. Apparently, mine wasn't screwed on tight

enough, because I'd actually yearned to have Edward Cullen's
mouth on mine.

It was mortifying.

It was horrifying .

I didn't know if I was more angry or relieved that I'd woken up when I
did. Just a few seconds more, and I would have felt the soft heat of
his lips…

Which would have necessitated me having to call out for the day.

So, really, thank God nothing had happened.

I stared angrily at the pale-faced girl in the mirror, trying to make

sense of it all.

Why the hell would I dream such a thing? Was it the anger I still felt
down deep, which I was confusing for attraction? Did I need to have
a talk with my subconscious?

Even if we didn't have a bad history, Edward Cullen was dangerous

to lust after. Not only was he my boss, but he was a good-looking,
proud motherfucker who knew it-and I didn't care for that type. I
didn't care for who he'd been, and I didn't care for who he was now,
either.

Get it together, I told myself as I brushed my teeth viciously.

Probably all the women in the office have disturbing dreams about
him.

As a result of my inner turmoil, I dressed to kill in a gray calf-length

skirt with black polka dots. It was tight, forcing me to take small,
mincing steps.
Or, maybe it was the stiletto booties.

My black top was loose with a V-neck and a ruffled bottom, which
just brushed the top of my ass. With my dark brown hair pulled over
my shoulder in a long ponytail, and a pair of oversized sunglasses
on my nose, I felt some of my frayed nerves reknit themselves.

As I made the five-minute walk from my apartment, down Franklin

Street to the building where I worked, the appreciative looks aimed
my way further boosted my hurt ego.

Thank you, thank you, all, for your assistance in raising my sad self-
confidence. While I had come a long way since the hellish high
school days of Edward Cullen, there were still times when I needed
some appreciation for how far I'd come.

Alice did a double take when she saw me approaching, and I

winced.

Too much?

Fuck it.

"Just who are you trying to impress?" Tanya asked dryly as she
raked her gaze over my clothing.

Oh, great. Now I had to have an excuse?

"I might go out after work," I answered, as I pulled the glasses off my
face and dropped them onto my desktop.

"Going hunting?" Alice asked with a slow grin, her arms draped over
the low wall that separated our desks.

As a matter of fact, maybe I would. After a week of horrible sleep

and disturbing dreams about Edward Cullen, evidently it was time to
replace him with another man's face. While I'd never gone out with
the express purpose of finding a one-night stand, maybe if I found
the right man, I could go through with it.
I missed Paul, my fuck buddy. A drummer for a small rock band, he
was an awful flirt and control freak. He'd wanted exclusivity, but he
also couldn't help it if there was a pretty girl around-he'd push the
envelope, to see how far he could get with her. So, yeah, not much
chance of a real relationship there.

But as an occasional lover, I hadn't yet found anyone who'd

compared. Paul had been fun and experimental, sometimes even
pressing me for a three-way, but I wasn't into girls. I wasn't into
sharing, either. Until he moved away last year, I'd kept it casual with
him just because the sex had been incredible.

Yeah, I was restless and horny. Although my vibrator got regular use,
it had been too damn long since I'd had a man.

"Need a wingwoman?" Alice asked. "Jasper's working late tonight,

so there's no need for me to rush home."

No, just a man.

"Maybe," I said.

"You two are crazy," Tanya said. "Covid is still around, you know."

I really didn't like Tanya. With her long auburn hair and tall, willowy
body, she was one of the most beautiful girls I'd ever seen. But she
also habitually wore one of the sourest expressions I'd ever seen.
She always eyed me as if I was somehow lacking, which reminded
me too much about my past insecurities.

"I'll wear a mask and practice safe sex," I told her, just as Edward
rounded the corner of Alice's cubicle.

I flushed as his curious stare met mine. Not because he'd heard me,
and not because he looked gorgeous today in all black, but because
of my damn dream. Put a little five o'clock shadow on his jaw, give
his eyes a sleepy, hooded look, and there was the face I'd seen only
a few hours ago.
"Good morning, Edward," Tanya purred, stepping out of her cubicle,
ostensibly to show off her legs in the short skirt she wore. They were
a great pair of legs, too; I'd give her that.

"Good morning, ladies," he said, as he acknowledged each of us.

One of his hands rose to his hair in an unconscious move to push it
off his forehead. "There's a strategy meeting this morning to go over
a new account. They're looking for an advertising agency, so we
need to brainstorm."

He turned to me, and when he spoke, my heart jumped into my

throat.

"Bella, I'd like you to attend," he said. "You're good at coming up with
outside-the box ideas. I know this is unusual, but it's all hands on
deck."

"But she's still in training," Tanya said, a stunned look on her face.

I flushed again for a different reason. I was not still training.

Alice frowned. "No, she's not. She's doing exemplary work on her
own."

"Nevertheless, people are going to be upset at her inclusion," Tanya

said with a huff. "Bella hasn't even been here two months yet."

Edward looked cool and angry. "Send anyone who's upset to me,
Tanya. I'd be interested in learning who isn't a team player."

That shut her up.

Fifteen minutes later, I was in the conference room where I'd had my
non-interview with Edward. There were several of us: Senior
Account Managers, people from the Graphic Design and Advertising
Departments, Edward, Alice, and myself.

No, I didn't feel out of place at all .

As Edward explained what the client did, I studied their website on
the iPad in front of me. AccuTemp was a commercial kitchen
equipment company that sold steamers, griddles, and skillets. Big
and clunky, their stainless steel equipment would be tough to glorify
on social media.

"Their current marketing package consists of rudimentary brochures

and a static website only," Edward said. "So we have an entire
spectrum of outlets to tap into. Ideas?"

For some reason, his piercing gaze swung immediately to me . I was

hoping someone else would speak up first, and glanced at Alice. She
raised her eyebrows at me.

Get it, girl, she seemed to say.

"Well, big and clunky or not, we've got to get those stainless steel
boxes onto Instagram and Pinterest," I ventured. "I wonder if a few of
their current clients would allow us to use their kitchens and stories
as inspiration for future clients."

From across the table, I could have almost sworn Edward's eyes
softened as he looked at me. Surely, I imagined it. "Can you
expound on that?"

I hesitated, taking in the expressions of the other people sitting

around the table. No one seemed put out of place that I was doing
the talking, or if they were, they hid it well.

"We contact their biggest, most successful clients. Ask if we could

send in a photographer and a writer, with the purpose of using their
cooking stories on the equipment to entice new buyers. It could also
be free advertising for the client."

"That's a great idea, Bella," Ben said. Today, he was wearing horn-
rimmed eyeglasses that made his baby face appear serious and
studious. Definitely sexy. "I'd be the one overseeing this client, and I
wouldn't mind putting the idea in front of them. Maybe you could
assist me?"

I smiled. "Of course."

Alice made a sound of dissent, then Edward spoke.

"I'm sorry, Ben, but Bella hasn't moved up to the usual five accounts
yet, and is still working under Alice's direction."

Ben and I traded a quick glance at Edward's rather sharp reply.

So much for teamwork.

But it also begged the question about why I was there in the strategy
meeting in the first place. Since clearly, I wasn't able to handle the
usual five accounts yet.

"I think you're on the right track with the interview idea, Bella,"
Edward said, and gave me a penetrating look before he glanced
over at Ben. "But perhaps we could film it instead, Ben. Create a
bank of mini-episodes? Keep the budget in mind, also."

"Of course." Ben was amiable, easily giving way at Edward's

direction.

I watched Edward's fingers-strong, fast, and capable-as he typed

something onto his iPad. As I raised my eyes to his face, his gaze
met mine. I kept seeing that hazy expression he wore in my dream.
Swallowing, I glanced away.

Fuck, why did he always seem to catch me looking at him?

"This will be their tenth year in business," Alice noted. "We could do
a 'Ten-Year In Review' for their website, with teasers that link back to
it from a number of platforms. I agree with Bella, and think it's key we
get them onto social media ASAP."
Again, I noticed Edward keying something into his iPad. It seemed
as if he was recording notes during our meeting. Why I found that
compelling was beyond me.

"Bouncing off the mini-interview episode idea, maybe AccuTemp

could do a recipe tutorial cooked on their equipment on a monthly
basis, something we could film and share on their YouTube channel,"
Angela suggested. From the Advertising Department, she was a little
person, which was probably why she wore a bun high on top of her
head. Although it gave her a few more inches of height, her overall
presence was what made her seem taller to me.

Betsy Cope, Head of the Graphic Design Department, had an idea

about giving AccuTemp's logo a facelift.

Thirty minutes later, we had created a solid, multi-pronged plan to

propose to AccuTemp, and I was feeling energized by the
collaboration. I was also feeling grudgingly impressed by Edward's
ability to draw out our best ideas, while suggesting tweaks that kept
us under AccuTemp's budget.

As we stood, Ben walked around the table to talk to me. He had the
kind of face that seemed to be smiling even when he wasn't.

"Hi, Bella. I enjoyed having you in our meeting-a fresh set of

opinions is always welcome. I think your idea about the client stories
is going to be a success, too."

"I hope so," I said, catching Edward's face over Ben's shoulder.

"How is Luxe coming along?" Edward asked.

Ben stepped back to let Edward into our circle, then reached out to
touch my shoulder. It surprised me.

"Maybe we can have lunch one day soon?"

"Sure," I answered. "I'd like that."

And then it was just me and Edward in the conference room.

I moved to put a chair between us.

"Luxe," I began, my eyes focused on the tabletop, as I was not able

to hold Edward's steady, searching gaze without imagining the way
he looked in my damn dream. "Well, I'm sure Alice has been keeping
you up to date, but Eric-he's my contact-just gave the green light on
my idea about an inclusivity spotlight featuring their LGBTQIA
employees, to go along with Pride Month."

"And the Graphic Design Department is keeping up with your

concepts?"

Why did I have the idea he was just asking inane questions to keep
me here with him?

I nodded. "Riley seems to be on the same page as I am when I

explain what I'm visualizing. He's also great about accepting the
client's wants and needs, even if that means changing the design
around."

"Great," Edward said. He had an odd look on his face, as if I'd said
something unexpected.

"Is that all?" I asked, taking a small step backward.

His eyes returned to mine, and mine fled back to the tabletop. "Yes,
that's it. Thank you, Bella."

"Oh, thank you, Ed," I said with a last fleeting glimpse of his face.

Stupidly beautiful man.

When I left, I could almost feel his eyes on my ass as he followed me

out of the room.

It electrified my blood and filled my stomach with butterflies, terrifying

me.
A/N: For those who sign in to leave a review, I'll reply with an
EPOV snippet. ;-)
Chapter 7
Who's ready for them to talk?

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

Paige, Aileen, and Renee, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 7

I lied to Alice. At the end of the day, I told her I was just going home.
Instead, I walked over to Bar Allegro in the hotel conveniently
located across from my apartment building.

Allegro was very art deco with its deep blue, leather-studded walls
and matching seats, intimate and quiet. Potentially, it was the perfect
place to pick up a man on business. If things went the way I hoped,
he'd be from out of town, wanting to scratch an itch, and have a
room upstairs.

I didn't need a wingwoman to find that, and a one-night stand was

nearly a necessity at this point. I'd never done such a thing before-
went out expressly to find someone to fuck-but my trusty vibrator
was only taking the edge off, leaving me craving more. Dreaming
about Edward was a nasty symptom I needed to get rid of.

I ordered a dirty martini from the barman, who eyed me

appreciatively. I would have considered him, but he obviously lived in
the city, and I wanted a stranger I'd never see again.

Carrying my drink over to the edge of the club by the hotel lobby, I
settled onto one of the loveseats. Placing my drink onto the marble-
topped coffee table, I opened my soft leather tote, slid out my iPad,
then pulled up Wordle.

It was still early, not even six o'clock, and only one other patron was
at a table. Silver-haired, well-dressed with a whiskey tumbler at
hand, reading a newspaper. He glanced at me, then dismissed me.

Maybe he was gay. Or, darn it, happily in a relationship.

I'd solved the Wordle puzzle, and had moved on to Spelling Bee
when my internal radar went off. Lifting my head, I saw my symptom
strolling to the bar in all his black-suited glory, bronze hair glinting,
heavy against his brow.

Fuck!

Stiffening, panicking, I swiveled on the couch, turning away from the

bar to face the hotel building's entrance. Kind of like an ostrich with
its head in the sand, if I couldn't see him, maybe he wouldn't see me.

A couple of suited businessmen walked past, pulling their luggage

behind them. One of them saw me sitting there and did a double
take. Ignoring how unhinged I felt at the moment, I smiled at him,
liking his dark goatee and long, lean body. He gave me a wink and
nodded once.

Would he be back?

"He's a little young for you, don't you think?"

As the silky, rather cocky tone of voice registered, my eyes closed in

pain. Of all the bars Edward Cullen had to walk into tonight, it had to
be this one?

"What are you doing here?" I asked. " Don't sit."

Edward ignored me, sinking down onto the other side of the
loveseat, as though he belonged there, splaying his knees wide. The
ice in his glass tinkled as he raised it for a drink.

Dropping my gaze from his captivating eyes, I watched the motion of

his throat as he swallowed.

"What's more important, I think, is what you're doing here," he

answered, setting down the glass beside mine with a distinct click.

Nonplussed, my mind went blank for a few precious seconds.

"What I do after work hours is no concern of yours," I replied shortly,

angered by the look of easy friendliness on his face. He was acting
as if the two of us meeting up was a jolly coincidence, when it was
anything but.

Edward's heavily lashed eyes were dark in the limited light, but still
intense and piercing, like a magnetic force I couldn't look away from.
Those eyes told me he knew exactly what I was doing there, and I
flushed in embarrassment.

"A beautiful woman like you shouldn't have to resort to this," he said.
"Seems like a cold way to find some warmth."

Under the reproach in his voice, I thought I heard genuine concern,

which my heart interpreted as all kinds of wrong. Warmth that he
claimed I wouldn't find raced up my back.

I reached for my drink and tipped it back, wincing at the sharp

bitterness.

"It's none of your business," I repeated curtly. "Please leave."

Edward lifted an arm across the back of the loveseat, his fingers just
inches away from my shoulder. I was becoming uncomfortably hot,
and shifted away from him, which brought his attention to my legs.
Although the skirt covered me down to my calves, it left nothing to
the imagination, easily revealing my curves.

"You're not afraid of me, are you?" he asked quietly.

Startled at the soft, unexpected question, my gaze swung back to his

face. He was looking at my lap where my hands were clasped
around my iPad, his lashes an attractive fan across his cheeks. The
tie he'd worn earlier was gone, and his shirt was undone at the
collar, revealing the hollow of his throat.

Even that was attractive.

"No, I'm not afraid of you," I scoffed as his eyes rose to mine. At
least, not for the reasons he might have been thinking. No, I was
afraid of him because of how his presence made my body react.

"Then, are we ever going to talk? Just talk?"

I glared wordlessly at his uncertain, open face, feeling utterly

defenseless. And ridiculous, considering I was there trying to forget
him.

"Not right now," I answered.

Not now, not here, damn it, when I was trying to find someone to
shtup.

"Why not?"

He was either oblivious or being a pain in my ass. Was he trying to

shame me into talking?

I took another sour swig from my glass to help ease my nerves, then
stated the obvious. "Because I'm doing something else at the
moment."

It took every ounce of my willpower not to fidget under his steady

regard. Nowhere in his expression was the cold, young face I still
saw sometimes in my dreams. The only similarities were his slightly
crooked nose and those thick, dark eyebrows.

"So I only have a little time, then," he murmured. "Until…"

I clenched my jaw. "Yeah. Until . So say what you need to and

leave."

A crinkle appeared between his ruffled brows, and I could see my

response hurt him, that it rubbed him the wrong way. The resulting
heaviness in my chest took me by surprise; I shouldn't care how he
felt.

He raised a hand to rub at one of his eyebrows, and the frank look of
pain in his eyes chased mine away.

"After high school, I wanted to-I couldn't continue being the way I
was," he said with a jagged sigh. "My anger was crippling. So was
my guilt over everything I'd done. Eventually, I decided to go to
therapy and get help. It took a long time to work through everything.
More time than I'd anticipated." He chuckled weakly. "But after
working through a lot of shit and anger, I changed. I know you might
not have accepted that in our interview, but I'm not the same person
I used to be."

I stared at the blue-studded leather wall in the alcove beside us as

his words sank in. They hurt. They made me feel as if I wasn't on the
same page as he was, that I was somehow lagging behind. That I
was missing something vital, because I'd gone to therapy, too, and it
still didn't feel as if I was able to let go of seventeen-year-old Bella
around him.

And I was still angry as hell.

So how was he able to eradicate that horrible, ugly part of himself?

What was I missing?
"I can see you've changed," I said shortly. "After all, you haven't spit
at me once."

His face tensed.

"Yeah. You really want to start this?" I huffed in anger and frustration.

His gaze didn't waver. The angrier I seemed to get, the softer his
eyes became. It made me feel like a monster he was trying to tame,
but I wasn't a monster, damn it. I was furious because he was there,
ruining my plan of trying to forget about him.

"I'm ready to start when you are," he said simply. Disarming me.

I backpedaled fast. "You know what? I don't want to talk about this
right now." I lifted my glass again. The liquid went down like acid.

Calm down.

"What better time than now, when we're away from the office?"
Edward asked tentatively. "Is it so horrible of me to hope you'll let
your guard down a little?"

The look of hope and contrition in his eyes made my heart squeeze.
Crazily, the more he persisted, the more unbalanced I was beginning
to feel.

Why was it so terrifying to think of forgiving him?

"Sorry, my defenshes are razor-sharp," I replied, mispronouncing the

word, and he cracked a smile.

Okay, fine, maybe something less than.

"Am I your judge and juror, then?" I asked, trying to regain my

footing. "You can't move past your past until I forgive you for being a
rotten asshole bastard?"

His eyes were still impossibly gentle.

Don't look at me that way.

"I was a rotten asshole bastard, wasn't I? You don't have to answer
that; I know you haven't forgiven me. You've made it crystal clear,"
he murmured.

His words hung in the space between us, heavy and horrible. I felt
horrible. Carrying this anger around was tiring, and my mouth was
beginning to quiver when he continued.

"But, I've moved past my past. I had to work through a shit ton to do
so. Learning how to forgive myself for being a bastard is something I
still have to work at, but because I try, I feel a small sense of peace."

I felt no such peace. In fact, I was feeling uncomfortably distressed.

Damn him, he was pressing the issue when I wasn't ready, but there
were too many words in my head and I couldn't ask him to stop.

"I was angry for a long time about my behavior and the way I treated
people. But there was a reason, and it wasn't only you, Bella."

Hearing he'd done awful things to other people, not only to me, took
me by surprise. His behavior toward me hadn't been personal?
There was a reason? What reason could be good enough to attack
me? Or anyone?

My therapist once told me bullies were usually bullied themselves,

but I had never been able to put the memory of Edward into the
victim category. He was intelligent, popular, and good-looking. He'd
driven a nice car, dressed well, and played sports instead of having
to work after school. What the hell was vulnerable about that?

And maybe it was the effect of the alcohol, but I couldn't decide
whether I was outraged or relieved I hadn't been the only one he'd
treated so badly. The only thing I did know was that I wasn't in a
place yet to care about his so-called reason.
"So you were a nondiscriminating asshole. How lucky we all were to
receive your particular brand of attention," I said, and the words
came out thinly, as if I was on the verge of tears.

Fuck.

To distract him and gain some time, I shoved my iPad back into its
pocket. It took more than one try to get it into the right slot, and I
swore again.

"But never mind that. You used to try to tear me down any way you
could, and now you're going to sit there and talk to me about
personal forgiveness ? Fuck that. How can you forgive yourself?
How the hell does that work?"

"Therapy. And lots of soul-searching," he answered quietly, as if I

were a time bomb he was trying to diffuse. "It took a long time, but
learning how to forgive myself did me more good than remaining
stuck in a place where I barely functioned."

It was impossible for me to imagine him-a seemingly Type A

personality-as barely functioning. It would have involved seeing him
as a victim, too. And I couldn't.

But I also wasn't about to have this kind of conversation in a bar. No

way. This evening had veered off into The Twilight Zone, and I
needed to get it back on track. Now .

"Listen, I'm all kinds of thrilled you've been able to forgive yourself.
I'm sure there's a lesson somewhere there for me, but I'm not in the
mood to think about it, or to reminisce. Please leave."

Please, please, please.

Seeing my glass was empty, I lifted it, catching the barman's

attention.
"I don't think another drink is a good idea," Edward said, then
dropped his gaze to my high-heeled booties. "You really don't want
to stumble on those."

Damn his persistent concern.

"'I'll be holding on to whoever's arm," I snapped, and he gave me a

lopsided grin.

"Careening drunkenly to his room, where you'll probably forget most

of what happens and regret it in the morning?"

"Who says I'll regret it?" I asked with an arched brow, and his hands
rose in surrender. "Look, I'm really getting tired of saying this, but it's
none of your concern."

His fingers began tapping the leather beside my shoulder, almost as

if he was nervous.

"If you were really looking for a hook-up, you'd have gone across the
river. Maybe to Tunnel or Bodega where people our age hang out?"

The barman showed up with my second martini then, saving me

from having to reply that my stopping at Allegro was more of a last
minute thing. Not that it would have mattered, because Edward
seemed intent on throwing a wrench into my plans.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked Edward politely.

"He's not staying," I said.

"Could we get a couple of ice waters?"

I glared at the back of the barman as he walked away, then turned it

on Edward.

"What are you doing here? You never said. Did you follow me?"
He exhaled and bent his head, then side-glanced at me. "What if I
did?"

My heart lurched, both at the look on his face, and at the idea of him
following me.

"Why?" I asked, unable to hide the tremor in my voice. "Why would

you do that?"

His head was shaking before I finished speaking, and he looked

genuinely confused as his hand rose to his hair to rake his fingers
through it. "Would you believe me if I said I didn't know?"

I gave him a look of heavy disbelief.

"I hailed a taxi that drove past me, then I looked the other way and I
saw you. Before I knew what I was doing, I'd followed you for a
block, and then you turned into the hotel here."

What was I supposed to say to that?

"We agreed to a professional relationship only," I said, taking a

healthy swig of my martini.

He shook his head, his stare impaling me. "Bella, we have history.
Bad history, granted, but what I'm saying is that we're more than just
co-workers."

I choked. "No, we're not. We're co-workers, period."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Is it too much to ask that we
someday become more than that? I don't want to be your enemy
anymore."

"You have a funny way of showing it," I said. "You followed me,
knowing how I feel about you, knowing that I'm not ready to talk
about… to talk. I've asked you to leave several times, yet you're still
here."
His head lowered. "I don't believe we'd get anywhere if I left it up to
you."

"That's my choice, not yours," I gritted.

I didn't know what he saw on my face, but whatever it was made his
jaw tense. He drained what was left in his glass, then sat up straight.
"You're right. I'm hoping for too much, too soon."

Finally, he sees reason.

"I still think forgiving me would be healthier than fucking a stranger,

though."

I gaped at him.

"Of course you do." I laughed dryly. "You're just full of opinions about
my life. But you can't stop me from doing what I want."

"I don't intend to," he replied, and stood.

Now that he was leaving, I felt a fleeting sense of relief, quickly

followed by remorse.

What the hell?

"I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked.

I frowned. "Why wouldn't you?"

Edward shrugged, looking down his nose at me like a displeased

demigod. "I don't know. Your Lothario could be an ax murderer or
worse."

I scoffed at him. "I doubt any of the hotel's businessmen have an ax

in their luggage."

"Maybe not," he agreed with a shrug. "He'd probably use a knife or a

hammer instead."
I frowned. He was trying to scare me.

As if worrying about contracting Covid wasn't enough.

The barman showed up then with a tray of our ice waters. He set the
glasses onto the coffee table and moved away. As he did so, I
noticed Goatee walking down the lobby hallway. When he came
closer and saw I wasn't alone, his steps faltered.

Edward noticed him as well.

"Look at that perfectly trimmed facial hair," he murmured, bending

close, and I turned my head away sharply. "That's probably the kind
of man who'd carry knives. Or maybe surgical equipment, like
hypodermic needles and forceps."

I rolled my eyes, feeling an odd urge to smile, which I cudgeled into

submission. "Oh, shut up."

Because Edward hadn't moved away, Goatee turned into the room
several yards away from us, then headed to the bar without a
backward glance.

Did that mean he was no longer interested?

Which was fine. I was no longer in the mood, anyway, thanks to

Dudley Do-Right.

"You might as well leave now," he said.

"You're right," I agreed, wrenching away from him to stand.

Whoa, don't fall.

Edward was chuckling beside me, his hand wrapped around my bare
arm. Little sparks of sensation raced across my skin at his touch.

I bent to retrieve my tote, but he beat me to it, then slung it across

his shoulder.
"Hey," I cried.

"Let's settle the tab and I'll walk you home."

I glared at him as he steered me over to the bar, a few seats down

from where Goatee studiously ignored us.

"You know where I live? "

"I looked at your W2. Add it to my list of transgressions," he replied.

"Asshole."

The barman glanced between us with a look of bemusement before

setting a check presenter on the ledge with my credit card. I
scrawled out a tip and my signature, while Edward did the same
beside me.

Then, Edward took me by the elbow again. I wanted so badly to

shake him off, but the truth was that I was a little tipsy. We left the
bar, my heels tap-tap-tapping across the marble floor of the hotel
lobby.

So, I was leaving, but it was with the wrong man… and certainly, not
the way I thought I'd be. I should be having an assignation upstairs
before I headed home, satiated and considerably less horny than
when I arrived.

As it was, Edward walked me arm-in-arm across traffic-heavy

Randolph Street to my apartment building, and I wasn't at all
relaxed.

"These are luxury apartments," Edward mentioned when we arrived.

"My mom died my senior year in high school, leaving me a life

insurance policy," I told him shortly. "That's how I can afford this
place."

Shit, why had I divulged that?

I saw Edward's face freeze, then focus on me sadly. "I'm sorry," he
said, his voice an attractive murmur. "I didn't know."

"None of you did, and I'd have died before saying a word about it,
not that you'd have cared anyway."

Edward inhaled and closed his eyes briefly. "I'd like to think I wouldn't
have gotten ugly about your mother's death."

"Yes, well, I didn't give you a chance. I'll take my bag now," I said.
"You look fucking ridiculous with it on your shoulder."

He handed it to me wordlessly, his gaze calm and serious as he

looked at me. Like everything about him, it made me uncomfortable
from the inside out.

I punched in the code for the front door and it unlocked with a click.
Edward reached around me, grabbing the handle and pulling it open.

"Okay, then. Thank you for walking me all the way home," I said,
slipping inside quickly, and backing away from him toward the
elevators.

In response, Edward smiled at me. "See you tomorrow."

"Not if I see you first," I muttered inanely, which made him throw his
head back and laugh.

It was the first time I'd ever seen him do that; he was usually so
controlled. I spent a beat too long admiring the pleasing sound, the
free and easy way he looked. His last glance at my face was one of
friendly amusement, and it stole my breath. Jesus God, he was
beautiful.

As he turned and walked away, I stepped back to the glass door to

follow his casual swagger down the sidewalk.

And, perversely, to see if he'd look back. I'd once read that if
someone glanced back after leaving you, it meant they didn't want to
leave at all.

Would he look back?

When he did, I sprang back from the door with a yelp.

Chapter 8
And the game continues.

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

Paige, Aileen, and Renee, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 8

I wasn't crazy. My boss-the boy I'd once known as my tormentor-

was deliberately pursuing me. Something that filled me with dread,
fear, and an embarrassing tinge of excitement that raced up my back
like a fingertip's nail.

There was something seriously wrong with me.

Deciding to take the back stairs to my apartment instead of the

elevator, I raced up the steps in my heels. By the third floor, the balls
of my feet were beginning to ache, but I pressed on. If anyone had
been in the stairwell with me, they would have heard what sounded
like a madwoman, huffing like she was dying, and quick, loud
shuffling on cement.

I'd suspected it before, but now I knew for sure. Edward had
admitted to following me, even though he claimed he didn't know
why.
But, I knew why: because there was still a bit of the bully in his
behavior, his concern notwithstanding. And because he was
essentially ignoring that I wanted to be left alone; it kind of felt like
harassment.

So why hadn't I called him out on it?

Probably because when I was around him, I was either too

consumed with anger, or confusion, or fighting an utterly ridiculous,
humiliating attraction to him. Even now, I could still feel the tingling
warmth of his touch on the skin of my arm. Still feel the power of his
eyes, still see the curve of his mouth. And his deep, unexpected
laughter… .

I burst through the steel door on the fifth floor, feeling like a traitor to
myself. As it thumped closed behind me, I limped over to my door,
panting. When I found my key, I stabbed it into the lock above the
doorknob and shoved open the door, pretending it was Edward's
chest I was poking as I drove him back in outrage.

After my horrible history with him, how could I be attracted to him?

While he wasn't the same person he was in high school, I still wasn't
even close to comfortable around him. It couldn't simply be his
appearance, overwhelming as it was. He'd been just as
overwhelming in high school, but after that first day, I had definitely
not been attracted to him.

So, was it because he was polite now? Because he spoke in a soft,

gentle voice? Because he'd learned how to use his eyes and his
touch to influence me?

Was I really that shallow?

He made me want things I shouldn't want from him. It terrified me

that I'd liked his hands on me, but at the same time, it infuriated me.

I stepped out of the torturous booties, kicking them aside, then slid
down the door until my ass hit the wood floor. My head fell back and
I stared at the ceiling, seeing nothing but the evening's memories in
my head.

Edward was the consummate professional at work, even though I

thought I'd caught him checking me out a couple of times. He was
male, after all. At least in that regard, he was predictable. But why
the hell was he giving me the full court press by following me? Was
my forgiveness that important to him?

My breathing picked up again as I remembered his behavior tonight-

as if he was attracted to me. His lingering touches, the long stares,
the inconvenient concern. A sense of horrendous, excited fear filled
my chest again. Or maybe it was just fear and horror.

Was he putting on an act? I wouldn't put it past him, even though it

was unprofessional and damn stupid. Then again, an act like that
seemed beneath the man he was today. But if it wasn't an act, what
was he doing?

Maybe he thought if I thought he found me attractive, I'd be more

susceptible to an apology.

I wouldn't.

I wouldn't, because I knew there was absolutely no way he could be

attracted to a girl he'd abused in school. It defied reason and
common sense. We were different people now, sure, but I was still
me and he was still him. We still had that ugly history. Everything I
did or said probably reminded him of it.

Not to mention, a beautiful face couldn't hide true ugliness. That was
a lesson I'd learned the hard way.

But he didn't seem ugly inside anymore. That was the thing. He'd
done an about-face from the kid I used to know, and our roles had
reversed. Now I was the angry one, and he was the one trying to get
me to see reason. All the anger he'd once demonstrated seemed to
have transferred from him to my own gut. Either that, or the anger
had always been there, and now I'd been given the opportunity to
express it openly.

I didn't like being angry. I wasn't an angry person by nature. Dad

called me daring-well, damned impulsive -and intelligent. Rose
thought I was intuitive and creative. Neither of them had ever
referred to me as angry.

I climbed to my feet and bent to grab the booties, then headed for
my bedroom behind the large, open shelving unit. Just beyond my
bed with its dark green patchwork quilt was the sliding glass patio to
my small balcony. It faced North LaSalle Street and the ugly side of
the Supreme Court Building, but I was restless and stepped outside
anyway.

The noise of the traffic below echoed the noise inside my head.

A part of me acknowledged that maybe I was withholding

forgiveness as a way to punish Edward. It put a sense of power into
my hand, power that I'd never had with him before. Even though I
thought I'd resolved my issues in therapy, apparently, I hadn't gone
deep enough, because I was still angry with him. Still hurt. Still a bit
broken, I guessed.

Damn it.

Mostly, it was because I wasn't ready to let go of the old feelings I

had about him. Feeling hate, anger, and distrust was easier, safer,
and less terrifying than giving in to other feelings.

Forgiving him meant I'd have to face all that past ugliness, humility,
and resentment again. Just the thought of it made my stomach tense
and the saliva pool in my mouth.

But what was the alternative? Just keep feeling this way? Having to
go on the defense around him all the time was exhausting, especially
when he was deliberately working to get past my defenses. No
matter how much I tried to resist, I could feel myself weakening.
And losing that sense of control with him was damned scary.

Someone was laughing. I heard it distantly as another wave pushed

its way up my stomach into my throat, and I retched.

"Jesus, she's gonna pop," someone said just before I vomited.

I'd gone through the rest of junior year hoping my peers would notice
me for different reasons other than what Edward Cullen wanted them
to see. Maybe for the old Ford truck I drove and took care of-I could
change my own tire, for God's sake; maybe for the weight I was
beginning to lose, or the braces that had finally come off my teeth;
or, maybe for my portrayal of the bullied girl in the I Don't Want To
Talk About It school play.

It had been a risk, that part I'd chosen to do-talking about being
bullied, and the fear, depression, and loneliness that arose from it,
and the fact that too many kids killed themselves over being bullied.
Terrified, yet hoping for the best, I'd wanted to shake up those who
picked on me, but they hadn't even come to the play.

I guessed I'd been preaching to a choir of parents, because my

peers only noticed me now, after I'd collapsed on the running track
outside. It was after school, so thankfully, most of them were gone,
but I'd been noticed by the kids across the field practicing baseball.
A kid ralphing was too good to ignore.

"Are you turning into an anorexic?" Tyler wanted to know. "Are you
going to barf when we dissect frogs next week, too?"

I blinked away tears of exertion and tried to catch my breath.

"I can't wait to see what Cullen does if you barf on the table!" Mike
laughed.

"He'd go ballistic," Tyler replied. "The frog is, like, eighty percent of
our grade."
I lifted my head to glare at them. "Anorexia is a disorder where you
refuse to eat because you're obsessed with losing weight."

"Well, aren't you?" someone asked from behind me.

With dread, I recognized Cullen's voice.

"Obsessed with losing weight? Because if you aren't, you really

should be."

Apparently, baseball practice was over if he was over here, too.

I coughed and spat on the cement below me, willing the cramps
away. "I just thought I'd provide a distraction for your practice. I
heard you guys suck."

A vacuum of silence met my statement.

"Here, let me help you," Cullen said, and reached down for my arms.

I was so shocked by his turnabout that I let him touch me and begin
to pull me up. Before I was halfway to my feet, he suddenly let go,
and the motion made me pitch forward. As the palms of my hands
slid into my wet pile of vomit, laughter erupted.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Cullen said, laughing along with everyone else.

"Edward," someone said with reproach in her voice. "What are you
doing?"

And then I was being helped up by a tall, thin blonde girl. Victoria
Daniels. Cheerleader, prom queen, honor roll student. Through my
tears, I saw that she was also in running shorts, although I hadn't
seen anyone else on the track.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

Not even close, but I nodded.

"You're an asshole," I heard her say as I walked over to the grass in
the middle of the field to wipe my hands off.

"She doesn't matter, Vic. Leave it alone," Cullen replied.

A burst of pain exploded in my chest at his words, and even more

tears gathered in my eyes. A scream rose in my throat.

I didn't matter?

"Asshole," I said as I passed him, infusing all my hurt and anger in

that one word. It was the first time I'd ever called him a name.

His gaze flickered, then went cold and dead.

"That's right," he answered, unrepentant. "Don't forget it."

A few days later, Ben and I had lunch at Goodwin's, the deli on the
lobby floor of the building where we worked. Although they were
busy, we got lucky and found a booth at the back.

Ben was a gentleman, and let me choose the seat facing the front of
the restaurant. I slid onto the bench and placed my tray on the table.

"This is a sign," he said as he slid onto his seat.

"Of what?"

"That our lunch is meant to be," he answered, and I chuckled.

"You're a sentimental type, aren't you?"

I watched him smile as he tucked his tie between two buttons of his
shirt. His eyes were liquid dark brown, and without the glasses, he
looked young-early twenties-but I was guessing he had to be at least
twenty-five. He was a Senior Account Manager, and I was sure that
didn't come without a few years of experience.
"I collect Indian Head pennies and save them in coin folders," he
confessed teasingly. "I still have all the model toy cars from my
childhood. Sometimes, I even carry a rabbit's foot."

"Oh, that's deep," I said and laughed. "It certainly tops the
monogram sweater I have packed away."

"Do you still wear it?"

I couldn't fit into it anymore. "No, it's about three sizes too small. I
keep it because my mom made it for me."

He smiled. "Are you and your mom close?"

Well, shit.

"We were close," I said. "When she was alive. She died in a car
accident when I was still in high school."

"Oh." He looks like I sucked all the air out of him. "Bella, I'm so
sorry."

I shook my head. "Thanks, but there's no need to be sorry. I'm close

with my dad. He's great. Still lives in the small town where he was
born."

"What town? Would I have heard of it?"

"Probably not. Forks, Washington. It's about three-and-a-half hours

west of Seattle."

Just past Ben's shoulder, I saw the unmistakable color of bronze

hair. Four booths away from where we sat, Edward had joined the
line of people in front of the deli's counter.

Although his attention was focused on the wall menu, it was just a
matter of time before he saw us sitting there. The place wasn't that
big, and the line was four people long, so he'd probably get bored
and start to look around.
"Where are you from?" I asked Ben as I slid slightly to the right,
unobtrusively trying to hide behind him.

"I grew up here in Chicago, in Wicker Park. My dad's a political

science professor at the university, and my mom's an art curator for
the MCA."

I took a small bite of my turkey and swiss. "You have interesting

parents."

"I have demanding parents." He laughed.

It caught Edward's attention.

As Ben launched into a description of their expectations, Edward

glanced our way. I kept my gaze on Ben, but saw Edward turn to
face us from the corner of my eye. With his hands in his pants
pockets, I watched him roll back onto his heels. I even thought he
was smiling .

I blinked, trying to focus again on Ben and what he was saying.

"-and threatened to enroll me in a boot camp unless I got a job." Ben

chuckled. "So, no high school summers off for me, but it kept me out
of trouble."

I met his gaze and felt myself smile, but I was too damned aware of
Edward and couldn't concentrate. When I moved slightly to the right
to put Ben in front of him, Edward moved in response. When I
adjusted to the left, so did he.

It was like a game to him, and I dropped my gaze to my plate and

kept it there.

"Bella, what is it? What's wrong?"

My head snapped up to see Ben's curious, worried gaze.

"What?"
"You had the oddest expression on your face just now."

Fuck.

"I guess I was just remembering how my mom used to keep me

occupied in the summers, too," I lied. "I'm sorry, Ben, I don't mean to
be a rude lunch date."

Ben's eyes flickered, and his mouth curled at the word date. I
internally swore again because I didn't want to give him the wrong
impression, but my brain was a mess at the moment. Maybe I should
just tell him what was wrong.

"Edward's over there," I confessed with a sigh. "He keeps looking

this way and it's… unnerving."

Ben frowned and began to turn in his seat.

"Don't look," I warned. "I'm trying to ignore him."

"He's usually pretty easy-going," Ben told me. "Nothing to be scared

of. I like him as a boss a lot."

"Well, the jury's still out for me. He wears too much gray."

Ben coughed and grabbed his drink, taking a long swallow.

"Are you making a reference to Fifty Shades of Gray?" he asked in

amused disbelief.

A surprised laugh burst out of me. "How do you-?"

"Oh, come on, everyone knows about that, Bella."

My laughter died as I imagined Edward as a Dominant, and heat

crawled up my neck to my face. I'd meant the he wears too much
gray comment to show Edward was conceited, that he knew how
well gray looked against his skin tone and hair. But now, I wondered
if maybe I'd been thinking of the Dom thing unconsciously.
"You're blushing."

I grabbed my bottle of Sprite and held it against one of my hot

cheeks. As I did so, Edward's head cocked.

"It's an embarrassing thought," I said with a grin, trying like hell to

ignore the man four booths down.

As the line moved, I was grateful to see Edward's attention diverted

by a woman in line behind him. It looked like they were in deep
conversation. I wondered if they knew each other, because it looked
as if she was flirting with him. I mean, who wouldn't?

"-and my sister decided to become a prostitute, but my parents are

totally okay with it."

There was a heavy silence, and I looked away from Edward and the
woman to see that Ben was giving me an amused look.

I blinked. Did he-did he just say his sister was a prostitute?

"What?"

He shook his head at me. "I knew you weren't paying attention. Is it
Edward?"

I felt my mouth open, but nothing came out.

"It's okay, I get it," Ben continued with a small shrug, and his eyes
carried a look of disappointment in them. "He's the type all you
women seem to go for. Tall, broody, good-looking."

Oh, hell no.

I took a long drink from my Sprite. "Well, he's not my type. A little too
conceited for me. Plus, he's my boss."

And I hated his guts once.

Ben sat back in his seat and gave me a sad smile. "Yeah. A taboo
romance is even more appealing."

"Ben! I'm serious. I'm not interested in him that way."

"You're blushing again."

"I'm embarrassed by your assumption."

And angry and torn and maybe even a little heartbroken, because
Ben was who I should be interested in. If I wanted to date a
coworker, which I didn't. I was pretty sure that would be frowned
upon. So, while I might be attracted to Edward fucking Cullen, I was
not interested in him.

"Don't be embarrassed. It makes sense why you'd notice Edward

and feel uncomfortable about it," he said with a regretful tone, totally
ignoring what I said. "You know, I think he might be interested in you,
too."

I swallowed air and choked.

"Uh, no. No, he's absolutely not."

Ben simply smiled. He was seriously pissing me off.

"You're out of your fuh-damn mind. Not to mention I work for him. It's
ridiculous."

"Maybe, but I think you're both a little too preoccupied with each
other," he said, drawing out the word.

Of course, I was preoccupied with Edward-my internal radar seemed

to pick up on where he was at all times. It wasn't because I was
interested in him, but I couldn't exactly tell Ben that without having to
explain why.

"I don't know what to say, other than to tell you that you're wrong," I
said sharply, as Edward finally reached the counter, turning away
from the woman behind him in line.

Frowning, Ben raised his hands. "I'll drop it."

"Thank you," I said, and pushed away my plate, having lost my

appetite.

At his look of concern, I rubbed my forehead and closed my eyes. If

only Ben knew how very off base he was. But his opinion concerned
me, because it probably meant others had noticed that behavior
also.

I wondered what I'd done at the office to suggest I was preoccupied

with Edward. Had I been too awkwardly standoffish? Blushed one
too many times? Or, horror of horrors, stared too long at him in the
meeting?

As the lady behind the counter handed Edward his order and I saw it
was wrapped to-go, I began to relax. It meant he would be leaving,
and I could concentrate on Ben.

As long as he dropped the insane line of questioning.

But no, Edward stepped away from the counter and headed straight
for us.

Shit, was he putting the we'll be friendly acquaintances thing into

practice? That meant I'd have to smile and pretend everything was
just hunky-dory.

"Ben," Edward said as he drew close enough, then he turned to me.

"Bella. I don't want to interrupt, but I didn't want to ignore you, either."

"Edward," Ben said. "You can join us if you want."

No, Ben did not just say that.

In response, Edward turned to me with a gorgeous smile. "Yes?"

I cleared my throat and smiled back, feeling a bit mechanical. "Yes,
of course."

Don't you dare.

My reply made Edward's smile widen, as if he heard my unspoken

threat.

"Thanks, but it looks like you two are almost finished. Besides that, I
have some work I have to do over lunch. I'll see you back up there."

With another sidelong glance at me, he turned and left.

I released a slow exhale, then faced Ben's knowing gaze again.

"What?" I asked with an edge.

Instead of taking offense, he smiled annoyingly. As if he knew

everything I wasn't saying.

"We were enemies once," I snapped, finally losing patience with the
look on his face. "He picked on me in high school, okay? Beyond
that, there's nothing."

Ben was visibly surprised. "He was a mean kid?"

More like a spawn of Satan.

"The worst," I said shortly, then cringed, kicking myself for having
said anything. What the hell was I thinking? "But he's different now. I
mean, obviously. Please tell me you're not the gossiping type."

If it got back to Edward that I'd told Ben about our high school days, I
shuddered at what he'd do or think. It certainly wouldn't reflect well
on me, not after I'd agreed to act professionally.

"I'm not," Ben said heavily, his eyes serious and concerned.

"Thank God. Forget I said anything, okay?"

He paused. "I'm not sure that's possible."

"Why not?"

"I was picked on in school, too, and I know what it feels like."

My eyebrows raised.

"It only lasted about a year," he said with a heavy tone in his voice.
"The kid who used to pick on me blew his brains out in the tenth
grade. It was awful and unexpected. Rocked the entire school."

Unbidden, the comment my therapist made once about bullies

usually being bullied themselves, raced through my mind. I
remembered the first time I'd seen Edward, remembered the scowl
on his face. Despite his popularity in school, he obviously hadn't
been happy. He'd even said there was a reason why he'd been
unhappy. When I thought about it, his actions back then had hinted
at more than the usual angry teen against the world crap.

"Wow, I guess that's one way to get out of being bullied," I muttered.

Ben nodded, obviously feeling badly for his bully. "Yeah. It just goes
to show you never know what a person is going through."

Damn, he was a much better person than I was. But, he had a point.

Fleeting thoughts of why Edward might have been unhappy tugged

at my conscience as we emptied our trays into the trash, and left the
deli. My therapist had explained that bullying was a learned behavior,
but was there really an excuse good enough for how he'd treated
me?

I knew there were different kinds of bullies-physical and verbal

abusers, and sexual and prejudicial attacking. And, if verbal bullying
was something Edward had learned the hard way-if that pain was
something he'd actually experienced firsthand-why the hell would he
have deliberately made someone else feel that way?
One day, I needed to ask why.

Why had he been such a rotten asshole bastard?

Chapter 9
Oh, the consequences of anger…

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

Paige, Aileen, and Renee, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 9

Riley, the Senior Graphic Designer who worked on the Luxe account,
was pissed as usual.

He looked like a forty-year-old Archie Andrews from the comic strip,

and would have been boyishly attractive without the perpetual scowl.
The first time I witnessed his anger, I'd been taken aback, but I soon
realized it seemed to be his usual state of mind. Riley tended to bitch
first and produce afterward. Thankfully, what he did create was
generally breathtaking.

Meanwhile, he was going to give himself an ulcer.

"You have got to be kidding me. I don't remember Luxe being this
difficult when Stephenie worked with them," he said nasally, running
a hand through his startling red hair.

I bit back a grin when it remained standing.

"They've never been this indecisive before," he accused.

Wait a minute. Was he really insinuating this was my fault?

"It's a scholarship contest, Riley, and they've never offered one

before," I said smoothly, swallowing my own anger. Still, I was
damned tired of him always giving me a hard time. "They're nervous
and excited about doing it, so I think that's why the design has
changed so many times. But I also understand they're one of our top
clients, so it's important to accommodate them, okay?"

It was the right thing to say, but also the wrong thing, because steam
practically came puffing out his ears.

" No. You are not standing there trying to tell me something I already
know," he drawled in a contemptuous manner, letting his wrist flop
down in an exaggerated fashion, pantomiming like an angry drama
queen.

"No, I'm just reminding you."

"Now listen here-"

Spinning around in his chair, he leveled me with a fierce glare that

quickly dissipated at the sight of something behind me. Suddenly, he
looked both chagrined and delighted.

"Edward," he said loftily, and I spun.

Edward stepped through Riley's office door like a fierce-eyed,

avenging angel dressed in darkest gray. Registering his impassive
face and hard stare sent my pulse hammering after my heart. It was
a familiar look, one I'd seen on a much younger expression, and
suddenly, I felt lightheaded.

Oh, no. Had he heard our conversation?

Briefly, his gaze swept across me before he moved it back to Riley.

"Sounds like you're giving Bella a hard time," Edward said, his tone
arctic.

Well, that answered that .

Riley, his feet hooked around the bars of his stool, was visibly
shaken, and his posture straightened. Seeing him react like that
made me carry my iPad to my chest.

"I give everyone a hard time, you know that," he tried to joke.

It fell flat. Coolly silent, Edward assessed Riley stoically. After a

moment, Riley began to squirm.

I started to internally squirm myself. First of all, I didn't need

Edward's assistance, and second, his forceful stare might have been
hot as hell, but it was also intimidating. I was second-hand nervous
and teetering in the wind.

I'd lied in Edward's office the day I told him Riley worked well with my
concepts, because I didn't want to create waves. I also believed any
problems that ensued were mine to deal with. But even if they
weren't, I would have swallowed my own foot first before mentioning
anything to Edward.

Long seconds passed as the two men engaged in a staring contest,

and it was getting uncomfortably ridiculous. I was about to speak
when Riley finally caved.

"Maybe I'm being a little unreasonable," he admitted. "But the client's

changed their mind four times now. Perhaps Bella's concept wasn't
clear enough, because it seems to me they don't know what they
want."

My mouth fell open. No, he was not trying to throw me under the
bus!
"The concept is clear, Riley," Edward said. "I've read it myself. The
client knows what they want. It's your job to create it visually, even if
it takes more than four tries to get it right. As you've worked here for
years, I have to assume you've encountered situations like this in the
past."

"Well, not to this extent-"

"But what really concerns me is your blatant disrespect of another

employee."

A wave of dread coursed through my body as Riley paled and

swallowed.

"Of course," he began. "I've definitely-"

"Because that's not how Smith and Devaney operate. Maybe you
need a refresher on company core values."

"It's fine," I said, hoping to diffuse Edward's anger. "We're working it

out, aren't we, Riley?"

"It is not fine," Edward said, and my heart started racing. "I heard the
entire conversation. This is not how professionals on the same team
work together, and Riley knows it."

Edward took a few steps closer to the desk where Riley sat, forcing
Riley to look up at him. When he spoke, his tone was conversational,
but the words were pointed and carried a warning.

"I understand Betsy promoted you to Senior Graphic Designer

recently. Perhaps that has added more stress than you can deal
with, and clouded your judgment."

"Please don't make this into a huge ordeal," I implored Edward.

He glanced at me, his gaze softening at whatever he saw reflected

on my face. Probably a sense of panic, because I felt as if his
criticism was spiraling out of control.
"He's right, Bella," Riley said with a heavy sigh, and the nasal tone
was gone from his voice. With his hair still sticking up and the frown
on his mouth, he looked like a chastised boy. "I haven't treated you
fairly, and I apologize."

"Accepted," I said immediately, desperate to ease the situation. "I

know we'll work well together now. I look forward to it."

His gaze was grateful as he faced me, although he still looked

browbeaten and embarrassed.

"As long as that happens, we won't have to involve Betsy and

Stuart," Edward said and stepped back.

"Thank you," Riley said humbly. "I appreciate you giving me another
chance."

"Across the board, Riley. I don't want to hear any more stories about
you being difficult, or we'll be revisiting this conversation, and there
will be an entirely different outcome," Edward added.

Riley dipped his head and nodded.

Edward turned and held out his arm then, indicating I should leave.

Okay, I guessed my meeting was over.

"I'll have something for you to look at tomorrow, Bella," Riley called
after me.

I turned to aim a look his way. "Thank you."

As Edward and I walked down the hallway to the Marketing section

of the floor, my heart was pounding with the urge to call him out.
He'd used his position to intimidate Riley, and I couldn't help but
relate his actions to those of his past. In my mind, I kept seeing that
cold, impassive look on his face.
Feeling Edward's stare, I smoothed out my expression, trying to hide
how upset I was.

"Do we need to talk about this?" he asked.

"No," I growled, and took two steps before I stopped and swung
around. "You haven't changed much at all," I whispered. "You were
bullying Riley!"

He studied me, then wiped at his mouth. "Let's go to my office."

"No."

"Bella, please. I'm not asking," he replied, and my free hand balled
into a fist.

As I moved along, I could feel how stiff I was, how hard I gripped my
iPad. When my steps slowed beside my cubicle, Edward cleared his
throat.

Tanya saw us as we went by-her internal Edward radar seemed to

be as acute as mine-but I didn't dare meet her eyes. On the other
side of the aisle, Alice was busily clacking away at her keyboard
while wearing her headset.

I was sure people wondered what was going on as we marched

silently across the floor to Edward's office. My skin crawled with the
feel of eyes on us as we passed. I could just hear the words, oh,
somebody's in trouble.

"Please remember that everyone can easily see inside this office,"
Edward said as soon as he'd closed his door after us.

"I'll smile widely as I talk, then," I muttered.

"Let's sit. Standing makes it appear as if we're arguing."

Realizing he was right, I sat as Edward moved around the desk to

his own chair. Trying to calm down, I took a couple of deep breaths.
This isn't about you, I told myself.

"When I came around the corner and heard the way Riley was
talking to you, I knew you'd lied to me. Why?"

Or maybe it was about me.

I had to look away from the intensity in his eyes. Why was everything
so high octane with him? It honestly wore me out.

"I fight my own battles."

"You couldn't know this, but Riley has a reputation of being difficult to
work with sometimes," Edward said with a pointed look on his face.
"That's why I asked you how it was going with the Graphics
Department. It wasn't because I didn't think you could do your job."

Hearing that Riley was also difficult for others to work with gave me a
tiny pause, but barely took the edge off my anger.

"Regardless, he backed down the instant you challenged him," I

said. "Why did you have to keep hammering on him? It was
embarrassing."

"To ensure his behavior doesn't keep happening. He was the one
doing the bullying."

My breathing picked up. "And you'd know all about that, wouldn't
you?"

"Yes," he said firmly. "I would, because I had to face it myself. Trust
me, it's been made perfectly clear to me what bullying is and how to
deal with it. There's no room in the workplace for that kind of
behavior, and I made it clear to Riley."

"You browbeat him in front of someone else. It would have been

different if I hadn't been there, but I was."
"Browbeating him would have entailed calling his boss and the CEO
of Advertising into the office, and explaining exactly what I'd heard
him saying to you. Based on what I've heard from others in this
department, it would have been deserved. Riley owes you a thank
you for keeping him from that experience, because I was prepared to
do it."

Still flustered, my nails dug deeper into my palms. "Exactly what a

bully does. Hammer."

"I was simply reminding him of his place within our organization,"
Edward replied, utterly unruffled. "And Riley agreed he hadn't been
fair to you."

I shook my head, feeling tears sting my eyes. I didn't know why

Edward's anger with Riley was affecting me so strongly, but I needed
to get a hold of my emotions and fast.

Edward's steady regard wasn't helping.

"Did you hear him when he said he was sorry?"

I blinked, picking up an odd note of concern in his voice. "Yes, I

heard him."

"And do you accept his apology?"

"You were there," I answered. Where was he going with this?

"So you accepted his apology, and I bet he's been acting this way
since day one. Am I right?"

I exhaled sharply and gave him a sideways glance. "This isn't about
us."

"Isn't it?" he murmured.

Our eyes held, Edward's piercing as usual, mine angry and

accusing… and beginning to swim with tears, damn it. Tearing my
gaze away, I stared at the blurry pattern of sunlight on the floor in
front of the window.

"I think you unintentionally put yourself into Riley's place just now,"
he said, his voice low, gentle, his patience growing as mine
shattered. "So, I understand why you were upset and embarrassed.
I'm sorry, Bella."

His apology threw me, and I swallowed painfully as a sob tried to

work its way up my throat. Closing my eyes tightly, I willed myself
under control. A tear escaped and rolled down my cheek. I wiped it
away viciously, wanting to disappear through the floor, knowing he
was there watching me.

Seeing me break down.

"It needed to be said, though, so Riley understands his behavior is

wrong. It was unprofessional, not to mention downright mean, to act
as he did with you. Someone needed to call him on it, and it
happened to be me because I heard it. Our company's number one
policy is teamwork, and Riley clearly forgot it. Collaboration is what
we do here, and he was not collaborating with you."

The longer he spoke, the more I was able to recover, until I could
finally meet his eyes again. Cautious, open, soft, Edward appeared
more vulnerable than I'd ever seen him before; it seemed as if he
was giving a piece of himself to me in response to my reaction.

I was surprised, even grateful, but still horribly uncomfortable.

"I get it," I said, and my voice sounded damp, gruff, and cool.

"What do you get? Tell me."

I sighed jaggedly. "I know Riley was wrong, okay?"

"What else?"

Damn it.
"You were within your rights to call him on it. I just wish I hadn't been
there to see it. Or, I wish you'd just reported him to his supervisor
and let her handle it," I said, regaining some of my composure.

"He's been reported to Betsy before," Edward said, and my eyes

widened. "He's lucky he's not under my purview, or he'd be gone."

I nodded, looking away from him again. His beautiful gaze was just
too knowing, too penetrating, too much .

"So… are we good?" he asked me after a few dragging moments of

silence.

"Yes," I answered shortly, and pushed myself up. I'd had enough of
this kind of embarrassing intimacy. "Can I go now?"

"Of course."

I felt his gaze on me as I walked to the door, but it didn't bother me

as it usually did. Maybe because he had been so intent on helping
me through my misread of the situation. Maybe because he hadn't
made me feel bad about overreacting. And maybe because he'd
made sure I understood the entire story.

"Bella?"

He could never just let me leave, could he?

"What?"

He didn't answer, so I was forced to turn around again. My heart

jumped into my throat at the look of kindness in his eyes.

"I hope you know that you can always talk to me," he murmured.

I raised my eyebrow.

"Or you could talk to Alice," he added and smiled ruefully, making my
chest flutter.
It was his sad little smile that got me; that look that made it obvious
he knew I'd come to him only as a last resort. A tiny sting of shame
cut into a corner of my heart.

"I know," I admitted. And I meant it, even if I'd probably never do it. I
was used to handling everything on my own.

Back at my desk, I exhaled shakily as I sank into my chair. It felt as if

I'd been run through a grinder, and left a piece of myself behind on
his floor. My body and head felt heavy, and my soul was definitely
shaken.

With the exception of the first time we'd met, I'd never let Edward
Cullen see my tears. What was happening to me? He gives me a
soft look, and I lose a chink of my armor?

No, he'd taken me by surprise, that was all. The whole thing with
Riley had been like a damn roller coaster, hurling me headlong down
a hill, then corkscrewing me into going upside down. I hated roller
coasters; I'd have probably broken down in front of anyone after that
ride.

"What's going on?"

I jumped at Alice's question and turned to see a serious expression

on her face.

"Tanya stopped by about fifteen minutes ago saying that you and
Edward were meeting behind closed doors. And Edward hardly ever
has closed door meetings, so…"

I started to feel sick. Why was Edward changing the status quo?

"There was a little misunderstanding with Riley."

Alice leaned against my desk and crossed her arms. "There's never
a little misunderstanding with Riley. It's all slings and arrows with
him. What happened?"
"Edward overheard a conversation between us," I began, the words
coming out laboriously. "He had some strong words for Riley.
Because I was there, it upset me. It's difficult seeing someone get
into trouble."

"Even if Riley deserved it?"

I shrugged and nodded.

"Riley's had it coming for a while. Betsy's good at what she does, but
she's no disciplinarian. Still, it's odd that Edward didn't pull me into
the room also. I'm your supervisor."

It was a leading comment, and she eyed me expectantly.

What was I supposed to say?

This was personal. I needed to give Edward hell for bullying Riley.
Only I was monumentally wrong. It was a total mess. And
embarrassing.

"He gave me a pep talk of sorts," I said and smiled, but even I could
tell it was unconvincing. Telling half-truths definitely wasn't my
strength. Or, apparently, hiding how off-balance I still felt. I used to
be damn good at it-I used to hide a lot of pain from Dad-but
evidently, I was out of practice.

Alice studied me silently for a few moments, then relaxed her arms.
"You still seem upset, but Riley isn't worth it, trust me."

I wasn't exactly upset over Riley, but I nodded anyway. And tried to
look reassuring. Basically, not fooling her for a second, but she let it
go and moved back to her desk.

And I sat at mine feeling vulnerable, my world rocked slightly off its
axis. I wasn't always right, but I wasn't used to being so wrong .

My anger with Edward had blindsided me.

It was an embarrassing wakeup call.
Chapter 10
It's another turning point for Bella.

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

Paige, Aileen, and Renee, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 10

Invoke looked like an upper scale studio that meant business, and
the yoga beginner in me shifted inside like a seven-year-old with an
itchy crotch.

I aimed a worried look Alice's way, but she was already in zen mode
with a dreamy, distant gaze. Straightening my shoulders, I followed
her out of the spa-like dressing room with my lips zipped, because
there were No Talking policy signs everywhere. One was even
posted menacingly on the door that led to the studio: Anyone who
disrupts the vibe will be asked to leave immediately.

Well, that wasn't stressful at all.

Alice claimed I needed to decompress, and summarily invited me to

her yoga studio. I'd agreed reluctantly because I wasn't used to
doing yoga, and was afraid I'd embarrass myself when I couldn't
perform the poses. But, I did like the idea of a workout and relieving
some stress, and it meant I got to spend time with Alice outside of
work.

I needed to do some damage control.

She still wasn't satisfied with my explanation why she hadn't been
invited into Edward's office three days ago during Rileygate.
Apparently, Edward's explanation hadn't been any better, and the
looks she gave me were more pointedly curious than ever. She knew
something was going on between Edward and me, and had begun to
imply it with innuendos.

I didn't know what I was going to say to her, but obviously I needed
to give it a shot.

In calf-length black yoga pants and a matching sports bra, I padded

barefoot across the polished wooden floor alongside Alice to the far
side of the room. It was like walking through calm austerity. Light
streamed through windows on three exposed brick walls, placed too
high to see outside traffic. Soft chanting tones were piped in through
hidden speakers, and the place smelled lightly of incense, calming
my nerves almost immediately.

I unrolled the mat I'd purchased at their store, placing it diagonally

across the floor as Alice did hers, then sank to my knees. As several
other people entered the room, I studied the still, silent instructor
who was kneeling on her own mat. She was rail thin with noticeable
musculature, wearing loose shorts and an intricately designed halter
top. Her blonde hair was gathered into a low bun, her eyes closed,
her body relaxed.

Pretty soon, everyone who had entered adopted the same position. I
side-eyed Alice, noticing she was in her own pose of meditation.

Fake it until you make it.

I closed my eyes, and the seconds stretched into minutes as the

chanting sounds continued. The scent in the air was incredible. I
needed to ask what it was so I could get some for my apartment.

Maybe this wasn't so bad.

Maybe I should reconsider yoga.

As more time passed, my thoughts gradually started to settle, and

my shoulders began to relax. The chanting was lulling, gently
vibrating through my mind and body, calming and soothing. Before I
realized it, I was breathing in rhythm to its driving beat, my body
growing still and light with ease.

I inhaled deeply, my mind moving through a gray tunnel, gently

heading for the soft white light ahead…

"Welcome to your sixty-minute, heartfelt compassion yin yoga class,"

I heard a voice say gently. "Today, we're going to embark on a
journey together, bringing ourselves closer to our heart, mind, body
consciousness and awareness, and deeper into a state of peace,
hopefully ridding ourselves of baggage and all that is no longer
serving us."

It was quite a statement, not to mention a lofty undertaking. And

although she pronounced the words slowly, lightly, without force, I
was still jolted back into consciousness and awareness, and cracked
open an eye.

The instructor's eyes were still closed. So were everyone's.

"Take a second with me now. Take a deep breath in," the instructor
said, and I closed my eyes again. "Inhale, fill your whole lungs, all
the way up. Now exhale, letting it all out, just taking this moment in
before we begin to set the intention of peace and stillness and
connection."

What followed was a bunch of forced breathing, ostensibly to work at

mindless consciousness and clearing my system of negative energy.
I felt ridiculous at first, but the longer it went on, the better I became
at it. By the time I was stretching my arms up to the ceiling, and told
to think about why I'd come and what my intentions were, I was able
to admit to myself that I badly needed some inner peace.

When the instructor gently added that yoga usually gave you exactly
what you needed, my chest and throat tightened. I felt oddly as if I
could cry.

Was there something in the incense that was affecting me?

And then she asked us to bend down into Child Pose. To stretch,
breathe, and be still. Peeking over, I saw that her body was folded
over on itself, knees to chest, with her arms stretched all the way in
front of her.

It was difficult at first because my shoulders and upper back were

still so tight, but the longer I concentrated on breathing and letting
my body sink, the easier the pose became. The more I lost myself in
the moment. Until it seemed as if only the instructor and I were in the
room.

For every movement she asked me to do after that, she also asked
me to be mindful of my emotions at that moment, to check in with
myself. How was I feeling?

Surprisingly relaxed.

What had I been going through?

Anger, loss of control, embarrassment.

As she asked me to return to Child Pose, my throat closed.

"Breathe through it," she told me. "Breathe through that emotional
trauma and baggage."

I tried.
For every breath of air I sucked in, two more seemed to ugly-wheeze
out.

Fuck, don't disrupt the vibe.

"We store so much emotional baggage and trauma in our muscles,"

she continued, driving the wedge deeper as my chest and shoulders
began to shake. "Letting that out and giving ourselves a moment to
be available, can be the most important thing you do in your journey
today."

Shocked, I heard myself sob. My fingers curled, digging into the

softness of my mat as I sought to grab onto something.

"Make sure as you experience these emotions, you're at peace

letting them do what they need to do."

Another hard sob tore from my throat.

If this was peace, it was damned scary sounding.

"Let them exit in whatever form they need, whether it's sadness or
joy, bliss or frustration."

It was more like painful anguish, and it wouldn't stop.

"Whatever it is for you, take a note as it happens."

I pushed my mouth against the soft material of the mat as the sobs
continued to rip through my body. They started low in my belly, then
coursed upwards, making me shake. Ignoring my need to control
them, they punched without warning out of my throat. I heard myself,
heard how hard-fought each released sob was as it came, and
marveled that such sounds came from my body.

"Take a breath, keep breathing, keep stretching," she told me. "And
let it out, let it all out."

I did. I couldn't not.

Because there was no stopping anything.

It erupted from me in fits and starts, and eventually, I got better at

letting it out. At accepting that it was happening.

Sometime later, I came back to myself and raised my head, looking

around the room with guilt. Through puffy, watery eyes, I was
shocked and humbled to see that everyone was continuing with their
poses. No one was paying me any attention.

It was safe to let go here.

After that, I ebbed and flowed through the rest of the class.
Stretching, bending, breathing. Sobbing sometimes, but letting it
come, all while feeling a sense of relief and freedom from resistance.
After having held myself in such strict control, the loss of inhibition
was liberating.

By the end of class, after I had released my last cleansing breath, I

felt light as a helium balloon.

Alice hugged me hard, then took me over to meet the instructor. Her
name was Irina, and apparently, one of her favorite things was
getting people to release their tension through tears.

I wanted to both kill and kiss Alice.

"Well," I said and sniffed, "mission accomplished."

We went to Beatnik's afterward, a beautiful Moroccan-style

restaurant. Mirrors and fabric hung on walls built of rough-hewn dark
wood, with intervals of mosaic tile inlays. Crystal-laden chandeliers
hung over long trestle tables set with scarlet runners, heavy golden
candelabras and jewel-toned china. It was rich, dark, and
overwhelming, and although gorgeous, Alice and I chose to sit on
the patio with its colorful tea stained rugs overlooking the Chicago
River.
It was just after one in the afternoon on Saturday, but we ordered
glasses of wine anyway. As you do after a yoga class.

"You were amazing," Alice told me almost wistfully.

The truth was, I still felt amazing. My body felt warm and fluid, and I
was calm and at ease for the first time in a long time.

"It took me more than a few classes to get in tune with my body and
emotions enough that I could let go like you did. Usually it takes
practice, so you must really be in touch with yourself."

"Or everything was right under the surface, just ready to blow," I
replied. "I feel incredibly light; although, I was embarrassed and
surprised that I had such a loss of control at first."

Alice shook her head at me disapprovingly. "Yoga can be

transformative. You just discovered that firsthand."

"Dare I say that a yoga class is more relaxing than a glass of wine?"

She grinned and raised her glass to mine in a salute. "Lucky for us,
we get to experience both."

"They might have to roll us out of here when we're done," I said, my
eyes following a small boat's progress out on the water. A father and
his son; a captain and his first mate.

"This past week with Edward and Riley really affected you, didn't it?"

Alice's voice was soft and hesitant, but I still sagged with regret
inside. It was time to pay the piper.

I didn't think my bawl-fest at yoga class was entirely due to that

situation, although maybe it had been the impetus. Despite having
gone through therapy, I knew I'd been carrying around some serious
baggage for years.
Not being able to say goodbye to Mom, enduring being picked on,
trying to handle everything myself, leaving Dad, learning how to deal
with Edward again, needing to make sure I did well at my job.

When I thought about it, it was a lot.

"It was definitely an eye-opener," I admitted with a sigh. "The way I

perceived Edward at the time was all wrong."

She toyed with her wine glass stem. "Oh? How did you perceive
him?"

Blindly. As a damn bully.

"I thought he was too hard on Riley. That he was unjustified in his
anger. I didn't know that Riley had a bad reputation."

Alice looked mildly ashamed. "I could have told you, but I didn't want
to worry you or influence your opinion of him. Sometimes it's best to
discover who a person is on your own. Make up your own mind."

"Well, Riley's been a beast to deal with, but I think Edward really
scared him."

"Edward has a strong personality, but he goes to bat for our

department. He's protective of us," Alice said, matter-of-fact. "So
don't let his outburst color your opinion of him too darkly, okay?"

I wouldn't. Not now that I realized he'd essentially stood up for me.

"You've been a godsend at work, you know," she added. "It can be
stressful, doing what we do. It's not easy always coming up with
fresh ideas, and then you have to sell it to the client. You handle it
really well. I'm going to ask Edward to give you the other two
accounts. I think you're ready."

"Wow," I said. "Thank you."

In the silence that followed, she studied me closely, and my stomach
knotted.

"Jasper's working on a Saturday again?" I asked to distract her. Alice

had told me he was a divorce attorney, and worked a lot of evenings
and weekends.

"He has a court date on Monday," she replied in a heavy tone. "It's
an ugly, never-ending business with a lot of rock bottoms, according
to him. We… make the time we do spend together count, but it's
tough sometimes feeling as if I'm competing with his job. I also worry
that he's going to get burned out if he keeps going at this pace."

I gave her a look of sympathy as the breeze kicked up and caressed

my bare arms, teasing up the edge of my cloth napkin under the
appetizer plate.

"But never mind that," Alice said, tucking her displaced hair back
behind her ear. "Tanya said you looked really upset when you
walked past her that day."

I sat back against my chair, feeling a spark of anger. "Tanya should

mind her own damn business."

Alice laughed shortly. "That'll never happen, at least not where

Edward's concerned."

"What's going on with them, anyway?"

"I'm not sure. They were pretty friendly at last year's Christmas party,
but I think that was just the alcohol. Edward tends to get that way
after a couple of drinks. But ever since then, Tanya's trailed after him
like a lost puppy. The whole office has noticed it, although it's not like
she hides it."

So Tanya was fixated on Edward. How sad for her that it was so
obvious, especially since there was no good outcome. I didn't
remember seeing a coworker dating policy in the employee
handbook, but it was probably a safe bet it would be frowned upon.

"She needs a girlfriend to tell her to snap out of it," I noted.

"She needs Edward to tell her to back off, and I'm guessing he did in
no uncertain terms, but she obviously didn't get the memo."

I glanced out at the sunlight dancing on top of the water, wondering if

Edward had had a talk with Tanya. What would it even have sounded
like?

I was drunk when I kissed you that night, but it ends now. You're my
employee.

Oh, but Edward, I don't care! I'll quit my job for you.

What part of "I was drunk" did you misunderstand?

"So what's going on between the two of you?"

I blinked at her pointed question. "What?"

She drained her glass of wine and scowled at me.

"Don't what me, Bella. I thought it was odd months ago when
Edward said he'd be doing the interviewing for the open position,
because he usually lets me vet the candidates before he gets
involved. So that means he saw your name and decided he'd
interview you personally."

I grabbed my wine glass. It was difficult not to gulp the entire thing.

"Don't you think it's time to finally come clean?" she asked.

Nothing's going on, I wanted to tell her, but I could feel that the lie
was already written on my face.
Well, nothing except for him following me and hoping I'll forgive him
for being a bastard.

And my anger at Young Edward.

And my inconvenient attraction to Older Edward.

"When you and Edward are in the same room, the tension can be
cut with a knife," she said with emphasis.

I tried not to squirm under her scrutiny, but maintaining eye contact
was impossible.

"We went through high school together," I said softly.

"I remember. You told me you and he didn't hang out together, but I
think there's more to it than that."

And here it came.

"We didn't hang out together," I admitted with a heavy sigh. "We
hated each other. Well, he hated me. To say that we didn't get along
would be putting it mildly."

"And?"

"And what?"

She cocked her head at me. "Why did he go out on a limb for you?
Why do I get the feeling that he owes you?"

"You'd have to ask him."

"I'm asking you. I've been patiently waiting for the rest of the story,
but what happened Wednesday with Riley leads me to believe
there's more going on than I suspected. Neither of you will tell me
what's really going on."

"Because nothing's going on," I insisted.

She gave me a look of disapproval. "Bella, I've seen the way you
look at him. Half the time, you look absolutely murderous, and the
other half, you seem to be mooning."

I was what?

I had a mild coughing attack as she continued mercilessly.

"At first, I thought maybe you were old flames who still had a thing
for each other. But then there was the song you sang during the
karaoke event, which was obviously directed at him. And the way
you angrily shrugged off his touch when he tried to help you off the
floor. And the way you couldn't keep your eyes off him afterward."

I wanted to disappear. To kick myself. Fuck, was I that obvious?

Obviously yes.

"We hated each other's guts in high school," I told her, as I brought a
hand up to my forehead and rubbed. "He made horrible fun of me,
made my life miserable, and I let him get away with it. Okay?"

She nodded. "I figured as much. But… you let him get away with it?
What do you mean?"

My foot bounced under the table. "I never told anyone."

"Oh, Bella," she breathed.

"I know," I said.

Although I really didn't. Because I should have told Dad. At least.

The shame had been crippling, but more than that, I hadn't even
known how to begin. It had taken months of living with him for the
strangeness of being close to him again to wear off. And then, it had
been important that he think of me as grown up. I just couldn't
imagine going to him saying, someone's being mean to me at
school.
I used to write about it all. I'd fill pages and pages of college-ruled
notebook paper with pain and ugly anger. I'd recount whatever
happened with Cullen during the day, giving the situation a new
ending where I told him off or cowed him, and then I burned the
pages to ashes in the fireplace before Dad got home.

After Mom died, I wrote to her about my days, realizing with irony
that I hadn't been able to tell her anything about my situation when
she was alive, but could confess everything to her memory.

"You're a protector," my therapist had said. "You protect others, and

in the process, neglect yourself."

Our second round of drinks came, along with our appetizers. Alice
claimed her glass and took another sip, then set it down with a
distinct click that caught my full attention.

"So, if you dislike Edward, and have all this history, why are you
working for him? That was a tough as fuck decision."

I reached for one of the breadsticks, then tore it in half.

"I don't dislike him. At least, not anymore," I admitted, dipping the
end of the breadstick into a dish of oil. "But I'm not here for altruistic
reasons; I'm here for the money. And I love this type of work."

"Still. How does that work? Seeing someone daily who used to tease
you in school?"

My mouth twisted.

"It's not without its difficulties, especially at first when I thought he

was coming around my desk way too often. But now I've gotten used
to it."

Yeah, like you got used to a rock in your shoe.

"Have you two… talked about the past?"

"No," I lied, hoping she'd drop the subject.

She cocked her head at me, looking at me like a mournful Mona

Lisa. "But, Bella, how many people actually get the chance to
confront their childhood bullies? And Edward's obviously eager to
make it up to you."

Yes, he'd made that more than clear, but the feelings her words
brought to my mind filled my stomach with a horde of butterflies.

"I'm not ready to open old wounds," I said, and took a bite of the
bread. It tasted like sawdust. "And he really gouged some deep
ones."

"Holding on to that anger can't be good for you," she said gently.
"You know, you forgive others for your own peace of mind, not
necessarily because they deserve it."

She wasn't saying anything that I hadn't heard of or read about

before, but I wasn't there yet.

I suspected I was afraid to let go of my anger. To let go of my

security blanket.

"Don't you think you deserve that?"

In answer, I washed the sawdust down with a few gulps of wine that
burned as I swallowed.

"What are you afraid of, Bella?"

I gave her a sharp look. "Please don't try to psychoanalyze me,

Alice. I've had therapy. I know forgiveness is a choice. I just haven't
made it yet."

She shook her head sadly. "Oh, honey. Don't let this fester. It could
damage your working relationship with him, and then where would
you be? People already notice the tension between the two of you,
and you don't want this to affect your job."
Don't cry. You've cried enough today.

"I'm working on it," I said.

I was so heart-weary of being angry with him. When were these

feelings going to go away?

The bravest thing I could do was forgive Edward, but I didn't feel
brave enough yet. It seemed as if the protector inside had finally
reared her head, warning me of the imminent pain involved in…
confronting him?

Because I knew I would. I couldn't just forgive him, oh no. Fucker

wasn't getting off that easily. Neither was I, because he deserved to
face every bit of my rage.

It made me feel strung out just thinking of it, because God, why did I
have to be this way?

But since he seemed sincere in making amends, it no longer

seemed out of the realm of possibility. It no longer made me sick to
my stomach, anyway; there was just a feeling of extreme reluctance
to confront him about it all.

I shooed away a fruit fly from my glass of wine, then took another
deep drink. Like the sun, the wine warmed my chest. It helped to
erase a tiny part of my tightly held composure, as I smiled faintly and
shrugged at Alice.

If I were smart, I'd just wash my hands of it all. Let the hurt and
anger go, then walk off into the sunset like a 1950s movie character
while whistling a happy tune.

But I couldn't whistle. And I tended to do things the hard way.

Alice reached across the table to me, and her fingers were solid and
tight around my own. "I'm here for you. Just let me know if I can do
anything, okay? Anytime."
"You already are," I admitted with a tight throat. "Thank you."

Her dark brown eyes were fierce with unshed tears, and I squeezed
her hand back. I didn't know what I'd done to deserve her, but she
was turning out to be a close and unexpected friend.

Which meant I had another person to protect from the worst of my

pain.
Chapter 11
The machinations of others

brings out Bella's protective side.

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

Paige, Aileen, and Renee, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 11

On Monday, I dressed in mourning to match the color under my

eyes-black lace top, black vest, black flare pants. Last, I stepped into
jade pumps, then pushed a big pair of sunglasses onto my nose.

It had been a toss-and-turn weekend of sleep for me. The feeling

that I was at the precipice of something big had kept me on the edge
of dreams. During the day, it kept me on the edge of wherever I was
sitting. I'd consumed an entire pint of Chunky Monkey ice cream
while watching old episodes of Grey's Anatomy, and as a result, had
started to narrate my life like the show's main character.

There's this person in my head: she is brilliant, capable, and easy-

going. She can discern a winning campaign idea in record time,
admit when she's hurting and needs support, and face any problem-
or person-from her past head-on. She's me, only so much better.
The real me-anxious, hungry, and sleepless-looked much tougher
than I felt as I walked to work. With my sunglasses on, and the
shade cast onto the sidewalks from the tall buildings surrounding
me, my view was a dark and shadowy one. When I reached my
office building, businessmen carrying briefcases eyed me with
appreciative gazes, making me feel ill at ease. Today, I just wanted
to be invisible. To hide behind my cubicle walls. To deal with the day
unobtrusively.

While waiting for the elevator, someone moved close beside me. My
skin prickled and my breath caught as I smelled the familiar
aftershave.

Edward.

Wearing a dark gray suit with an ice gray tie, his eyebrow raised as I
glanced up at him. God, he was tall. The top of my head barely
cleared his shoulder.

"Don't you look fierce," he murmured, sending my body temperature

up a few notches.

"And you're wearing gray," I said. "As usual."

His lips curved. "You notice what I wear?"

I turned my head away. Shit, walked straight into that one.

All efforts to remain unnoticed are failing abysmally. She hasn't even
arrived at her desk yet, and already she's stuck her foot in her
mouth.

He leaned down. "Are you still all right? I mean, after last week?"

Was he really asking me about my breakdown? Even worse, did he

think dealing with it gave him a free license now?

I frowned at the inconveniently still-closed elevator doors, sliding

away from Edward, closer to the nearest person waiting in line. My
nose wrinkled as a cloud of overpowering potpourri hit me; there
must have been about fifteen of us standing there waiting, and
everyone seemed to be wearing a scent.

Jesus God.

I slid back. Like an antsy idiot.

"I'm just checking in with you," Edward added softly. "Making sure
you don't have any other questions or comments. The rest of last
week was crazy busy, so I didn't get a chance to follow up with you."
He lowered his voice further. "I want to know what you're thinking."

Coupled with the gaze in his eyes, his words calmed me down,
making me feel a little foolish for jumping to the wrong conclusion. I
had to give him credit; he was certainly trying to make nice.

"I'm fine," I answered. "You explained your reasons for saying what
you did, and I still accept them. Thank you, um, for mentioning
something to Riley. Working with him is much easier now."

There. That wasn't difficult. Thanking him hurt only a little.

But when I saw Edward's answering smile-and I could tell he tried

not to at first-my unease dissolved into a sense of lightness. He had
a disarming smile when he was genuinely happy.

I looked away quickly.

"I'm relieved you don't still think I'm the bad guy." His voice was
warm, still holding a smile.

"I've never had a boss who cared so much about what I thought
before," I noted as I studied the back of the man a few paces away,
wondering if he was listening to us. "Are you this conscientious with
all your employees?"

"Sometimes, if the situation warrants it," Edward murmured. "But

maybe I'm a little more so with you, considering our history. I value
you as an employee, Bella, and I don't want you to feel as if you've
made a mistake coming to work for me."

I blinked. Damn, he was on a roll today.

"I don't," I admitted, and his smile was back in full force, so powerful I
had to bite my lip to keep from smiling back.

"You can smile," he told me. "I don't think I've ever seen it before."

"That's because there was never anything to smile about around

you," I said unthinkingly. As his face stiffened, I winced.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to say that and kill your good mood."

He bent close to whisper. "No, I realize I'm the heartless asshole

who used to hurt you. I'm aware that I have some atoning to do."

Uh-oh, mayday.

I removed my sunglasses, pushing them to the top of my head, so

he could see I wasn't bluffing as I whispered back.

"I didn't take this job to make you answer for the past. I took it in
spite of you, and you know it. And I'm sorry again for bringing it up,
but can we please not go there now?"

I saw the remorse in his expression. "You're right, this isn't the time."

He said it as if he assumed there would be a place and time, and

even though I'd tentatively made up my mind to talk to him about the
past, my pulse shot through the roof.

"During my interview, you said we'd behave like polite strangers. And
later, that we'd be professional acquaintances," I reminded him.

His jaw flexed as he gave me a look of regret. "You said behaving

like strangers was what you wanted, but I never agreed to it."
I looked up at him in confused outrage. "Semantics. You know I
wouldn't have agreed to work here otherwise."

The elevator dinged, the doors finally sliding open.

Edward reached out and took my arm, pulling me a few feet away
from the elevator and the people waiting to get into it. I was taken
aback, both by his touch and by the imploring look on his face. He
was stupidly beautiful when he looked like he was in pain.

"How am I supposed to show you who I am now if I'm not around

you to do so?"

"I know you've changed. I've seen it; I'm not an idiot," I told him,
seeing his expression relax. "But we're not operating on your
timetable."

"The only time I see you is at work."

"Hah," I barked. "Not true. You seem to have a penchant for

following me."

"Edward?"

Face tensing, his eyes closed briefly as he registered the voice

behind him.

When I leaned around him, I saw Tanya, breathtaking in a cream

trench coat dress, standing there with a look of confusion on her
face. Jesus, was she wearing false eyelashes?

"Good morning," she said coolly.

Before I could answer, Edward turned around and placed his hand
on my shoulder, ushering me forward. He was certainly handsy
today, and I wasn't sure if I liked it.

"Good morning, Tanya," he said succinctly.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," she replied, visibly stung at his tone.

Edward didn't reply, and the tension was crushing. I wanted to

disappear through the floor.

"You two looked deep in conversation," Tanya said to me, curiosity

evident in her voice and on her face. And she hadn't wanted to
interrupt?

Wow, she wasn't obvious at all, but couldn't she sense Edward's
mood?

Aiming a quick glance up at his face, I saw he looked impassive. He

was definitely trying to brush her off, and I felt sick witnessing it.

"Edward was giving me tips on how to handle difficult co-workers," I

explained with a pained smile, feeling his gaze snap to me.

Abruptly, I realized it was the first time I'd ever said his name aloud in
his presence, and flushed at his continued regard.

"Really?" she asked, glancing at him. "How odd. Is someone giving

you a hard time?"

Was she really asking me such a thing? I let her question hang for a
moment, but either she was oblivious, or just acted like it.

"No one I can't handle," I replied, then aimed a glare at Edward.

Stop. Staring.

As if he heard me, he looked away.

The next few minutes were excruciatingly silent as we waited for the
elevator again, yet loud with every word not spoken. As Edward
pulled out his phone, Tanya aimed another furtive glance his way. It
made me wonder what people felt when it was just Edward and me,
since Alice said the tension between us could be cut with a knife.
Because, well, the same could be said about him and Tanya. And it
sure made for an uncomfortable situation.

Once the elevator doors slid open, Tanya moved in beside Edward.
Tucking her hair behind her ear in a flirtatious manner, she
whispered something to him I couldn't hear. Because she was nearly
as tall as he was, she didn't have to lean far to reach his ear.

"Sorry, I can't. I'm too busy," he replied, his gaze settling on her only
briefly, before it was back on his phone. Because I was watching
them so closely, I saw Tanya deflate in response.

Then, her eyes swung my way. "How about you, Bella? Want to grab
lunch with me today?"

The tone of voice she used was leading, as if she wanted to spurn
Edward for turning her down.

"I…" Fuck, I'd rather starve, but she was looking at me. "Sure, why
not?"

When Tanya smiled and bent her head to dig into her purse, Edward
flashed me a what the hell kind of look.

"Your fault," I mouthed at him with a glare.

"Sorry," he mouthed back with a tiny smile, but his eyes were
worried.

It made me wonder what he was worried about.

"Well, this is nice," Tanya said as we settled ourselves into a booth at

Goodwin's. "Just you and me."

I smiled at her as I peeled the wax paper away from my turkey wrap.
I had the distinct impression she didn't like me, yet there she was
trying terribly to make nice with me.
It didn't make me feel queasy at all.

"I never get to go out to lunch with you girls. It seems like we're all on
different schedules," Tanya said as she made a process of unfolding
her napkin and placing it on her lap.

"I usually just eat at my desk," I replied.

Tanya gave me an odd look. "But I see you and Alice leave together
at least once a week."

Who was she, the Smith and Devaney hall monitor? I knew she
noticed Edward's comings and goings, but did she keep track of
everyone else, too?

"We usually talk shop," I explained. "They're more like working

lunches."

"Oh, are they?"

Yes, actually, but it was obvious she didn't believe me. And were we
both going to keep second-guessing each other like this?

"That's a lovely outfit you're wearing today," I told her.

"It's Ann Everett," she said nasally, fingering one of the lapels.

I didn't know Ann Everett from Jane Doe, but figured she must be a
big deal by the way Tanya pronounced her name.

"Chicago's not exactly known for high fashion," I noted. "I think it's
more about baseball caps and khakis."

Tanya gave me a fake smile, then stabbed a salad olive and popped
it into her mouth.

I picked up half of my sandwich and took a bite, but I wasn't hungry.

This lunch was like walking barefoot across thumbtacks.
"Better be careful eating too much bread," she said while eyeing my
wrap. "You don't want to gain weight."

My blood went cold. Considering my past when I was overweight, it

was the worst thing she could have said. Although I often ate what I
wanted, I made sure to work it off in the gym or at the pool.

"I figured out the trick of balancing food and fitness back in college.
I'd get bored eating salads every day," I replied with a heavy glance
at hers.

Tanya's eyes flew wide as if she just realized something, and she
eyed what she could see of my body above the table. "I would never
have guessed you'd been fat."

I gritted my teeth. How obnoxiously astute of her.

"Well, it's certainly given me compassion for others," I noted.

"Haven't you ever noticed that appearances can be deceiving? I've
found some of the most unattractive people have the best hearts,
while some of the most beautiful people seem to have the worst
attitudes. It's like they believe a perfect body and good looks can
make up for all their shortcomings. It's sad, really."

The barb flew right over her head. "Oh, I know . More than a few of
my girlfriends fit that definition."

As she launched into a diatribe about one of them, the food I ate
sank like a rock to my stomach. It amazed me that one narcissist
could be friends with another seeming narcissist; it appeared to be a
recipe for disaster. And it was, to hear her talk about it.

I had nothing to say in response. I kept chewing.

"So, how do you like working here?" Tanya asked, surprising the hell
out of me. "You seem to be flying through the ranks like a regular
Effie the Expert."
It startled a laugh out of me. "Who's Effie?"

She waved a hand at me. "Stephenie. The person whose position

you took. Effie was her nickname."

"She was an expert?"

"Well, she thought she was. She was never invited to a strategy
meeting, though."

I sighed inwardly at her sharp tone and gaze. Apparently, Tanya still
wanted to grind that ax.

"That was a one-time thing, I'm sure," I said.

"I'm not so sure," she replied immediately. "I've seen how Edward
seems to favor you. In a room full of intelligent women with a longer
company track record, it stands out."

At her pointed attack, my brain went blank for a few seconds.

She was so jealous. So obvious. And it would have been laughable,

except for the odd look of despair on her face.

But was it true? Did Edward favor me?

Nooooo.

"He definitely doesn't favor me," I said firmly, hoping it wasn't true.
"I'm just the new kid on the block. While I am good at what I do, I've
had a few lucky breaks on the account I began with. That's all."

Her eyes narrowed. "You can't be serious. He's grooming you for a
new Senior Account Manager's position."

Jesus, save me from butt-hurt, jealous coworkers.

"Well, this is certainly news to me. And you know this how?"
"Bella, you can't be this obtuse. Do you know how many times I've
been inside his office? Never. And I've been here for over two years.
You've been invited to his office twice now. Behind closed doors.
What's that about, if not blatant favoritism?"

Not favoritism, I wanted to say. Both times Edward had essentially

been calling me onto the carpet. The first time for behaving so
angrily during the employee outing, and the second for thinking
something was wrong about his behavior.

But her words also made me wonder if Tanya had invited me to

lunch just to have this conversation with me. Maybe I was giving her
too much credit, but it felt like she was punishing me because
Edward had said no.

"I don't owe you any explanations, and I don't appreciate being
grilled like this," I said, just barely maintaining my control. "And not
that it's any of your business, but both times I was in his office had
nothing to do with a new position title."

Her eyebrows arched in surprise.

"Well, what then?" she asked, as I slid my chair back to stand. "No,
wait."

"I'm done," I said, gathering my uneaten lunch. Everything I said

seemed to anger her more. "You'll have to keep jumping to
conclusions on your own."

She glared up at me in confusion. "So, you're not interested in

setting the record straight?"

I set my palm on the table and leaned across it. " What record?
There's nothing to set straight. Nothing untoward has gone on. It was
all work-related issues, which you don't need to be privy to. And if I
were you, I would be wary of starting any rumors otherwise."

She dropped her fork with a clang. "Is that a threat?"

"No, it's a fact. Or don't you believe that I could report you to Human
Resources as easily as you could me?"

She made a face and shook her head. "I wouldn't be reporting you,"
she scoffed.

An unexpected, protective instinct for Edward had me straightening. I

thought she'd simply been hurt that he'd ignored her, and was
envious of whoever claimed his attention, but now it seemed as if
what she felt was ugly and went deeper.

Was it worth trying to reason with her?

"I don't think that would go too well for you, Tanya. Your accusations
are unfounded. More than that, several people have noticed your
fixation with Edward. It might seem as if you have a score to settle.
Do you really want to jeopardize your job over a misunderstanding?"

Over your jealousy, I wanted to say.

"Well, so much for hoping we could be friends," she said, leaning

back in her chair petulantly and crossing her legs.

I looked at her in surprise. If she was looking for a friend, she had
absolutely no idea how to go about being one. It made me sad for
her.

"I doubt that's possible right now, seeing as how we couldn't even
get through lunch," I answered. "But I hope you've heard what I've
been trying to say. I hope you don't want to stir up that kind of
trouble."

She looked away from me to the side, avoiding my eyes, remaining

noncommittal. I noticed the droop of her mouth, and how wide her
eyes were. She seemed genuinely upset. Also surprised, as if our
discussion had gotten out of control. Maybe she hadn't meant to
reveal so much. Maybe she was just hoping I might have some
insight about why she'd been passed over.
Which was absurd, as I had no clues about Edward's actions or
decisions, but then, she didn't know my history with him.

But was she serious about wanting to report him? I was torn; did I
stay and try to convince her otherwise, risking a chance that she
would think I had a personal stake when I didn't, or should I just let it
go?

As she continued her childlike stance of avoidance, I decided to let it

go; she was shutting me out. But maybe I could throw her a bone.

"Tanya? I'm genuinely sorry you feel overlooked. My suggestion is to

talk to Edward about it."

Her chin rose proudly as she glanced at me and gave me a tiny nod.

Not really sure what to do then, other than the fact that I didn't want
to throw more gas onto the fire, I left. My mind was whirling with
Tanya's hurt and anger, and the idea that she might do something
reckless purely out of spite. It astonished me that she might risk her
job that way. That she would try to jeopardize Edward's.

When I got back upstairs to my desk, Alice gave me a comical look

of apprehension from her chair.

"How did your little lunch go?"

The last twenty minutes filtered through my brain like a horror movie
in fast-forward, and I winced. "Let's just say, Tanya and I solidified
our stance as frenemies."

Alice bent her head over her desk, her shoulders shaking as she
laughed silently.

Before I sat, I aimed a quick glance at Edward's office across the

room. He had the blinds drawn against the midday sun, and was
focused on his computer. But as if he felt my gaze, his face turned
and our eyes met. His expression was openly curious.
Shaking my head sparingly, I turned away.

If I was out for revenge or just to be petty, I could have kept Tanya's
outburst to myself. I could have let Edward find out the hard way that
one of his employees felt overlooked. As it was, I couldn't, in good
conscience, let it go. There was something that told me he needed to
be warned.

So, I sent him a private Teams message.

Tanya is considering reporting you to HR. She is still resentful that

the new kid was invited to a strategy meeting, and believes you favor
me because I've been in your office behind closed doors. It appears
you should be more conscientious with her as well.

He read it almost immediately, but it was a few minutes before he

replied.

Thank you, Bella.

I wanted to turn around, to look his way again to see how he was
taking the news, but I didn't dare. Too much staring could be noticed
and misconstrued. Alice had already said I sometimes mooned at
him, and God knew, I didn't want to be regarded by my coworkers as
someone else with an Edward fixation.

I shuddered in horror.

Then, I deleted the message.

Chapter 12
There are two types of pain.

One that hurts you,

and one that changes you.

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

Paige, Aileen, and Renee, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 12

I was making notes for an autumn themed post on the Luxe account
when I became aware of voices behind me. An annoying high-
pitched giggle and a low monotone.

Edward and Tanya.

For the past month, Edward had made a point of swinging by

Tanya's desk almost daily to engage her in work chat. And while I
knew what he was doing and why, I couldn't help but feel resentful
that he had to humor her so poor her wouldn't feel overlooked.

I didn't know what I thought would happen after I'd clued him in, but I
hadn't expected him to cater to her. She'd hinted at doing something
awful to him and his reputation, and he was rewarding her for it by
giving her attention?

But maybe my real resentment stemmed from the fact that Edward
had taken a step back from me in the process. Not that he'd been
constantly in my space before, but now it was pure radio silence.
Never in a million years would I have thought I'd miss being noticed
by him, or the stimulation of our conversations. But I did, and was
curiously bereft.

Turning my head to the side, I saw Edward bent over Tanya's desk,
his arm moving as he pointed to something on his iPad. As Tanya's
head moved close to his, I saw Edward flinch slightly, then slowly
straighten.

He was trying, but he wasn't liking it.

It made me sad. Made me mad. Was he really stupid enough to be

led around by the nose by someone threatening to go to HR? Was
he going to kowtow to Tanya's insecurities indefinitely? Why couldn't
he just call her bluff and report her? She was a cantankerous
coworker who'd planned to start trouble, simply because she thought
he'd shown too much interest in me and not enough in her.

And after demonstrating such interest in my work, was he now going

to ignore me? If so, wouldn't that be noticeable as well?

Alice, who seemed to pick up on everything, was also perplexed.

" Edward's taken a step back from you, I see. He's letting loose the
reins. You're probably glad, right?"

Unsure about my feelings at the time, I'd simply nodded. Yeah. Glad.

" Meanwhile, I guess he's decided to try to cultivate Tanya's talent.

Which is surprising, because I had the idea he'd considered her a
marginal performer," she'd said. " I hope it works. Maybe now, Tanya
won't be so prickly with the rest of us."
Sure, give the squeaky wheel some attention. Hope it stops making
that awful racket and can make it to the next stop. Never mind that
the wheel was always the tricky one, and should probably just be
replaced.

Nope, I didn't feel resentful at all.

I was still halfway facing the two of them when Edward turned to
leave Tanya's cubicle, and our eyes met, sending a surge of warmth
through my veins. His mouth twitched into a small smile, almost as if
he couldn't help it, but then his gaze abruptly slid away.

"Bella," he said on his way past me.

It… hurt . And it was the umpteenth time I swallowed a different kind
of anger when it came to Edward: the one of being ignored .

I bit my lip and spun around in my chair as I watched him walk away.

I understood what he was doing and why, but fuck if I knew when I'd
started to care about it; a few short weeks ago, I'd just wanted him to
ignore me. Now that it seemed as if he couldn't care less what I did,
my damn feelings were hurt. I didn't even know I could have feelings
about such a thing when it came to Edward.

In my mind, I saw myself running after Edward with my iPad clutched

in my hand, demanding that he review my latest idea for Luxe, only
to have him turn and eye me like a bug.

Tanya swiveled in her own chair to watch Edward leave, her

attention falling to me across the aisle. Her expression was cool, her
eyes both triumphant and dismissive. It was as if we'd never had that
lunch together, the one where I'd tried to ease her anger. To save her
from herself. The proud smirk on her face told me she felt as if she'd
one-upped me or something.

Obviously, she didn't suspect I'd shared what she'd said with
Edward. Or if she did, maybe she didn't care.
"Help you with anything?" she had the temerity to ask.

"Sure," I answered, and her eyebrows rose in surprise. "I wouldn't

mind a second opinion."

She strolled over in an indigo jumpsuit trimmed in black lace, clearly

eager to assist me, and I had another moment of revelation: Tanya
wanted to be included. Maybe her hurt at being ignored by Edward
extended to others as well.

"I'm not sure whether to focus on apple picking or the pumpkin patch
for a fall furniture and lighting media ad," I told her. "What do you
think?"

It was an empty question; because I already knew I was going with

the pumpkin patch, but I was determined that she didn't perceive me
as a nosy Edward watcher.

Even though I kind of was.

Alice returned to her desk as Tanya was leaving mine.

"What was that?" Alice asked. She moved over to the short wall to
rest her hands on top of the space that separated our two cubicles,
grinning at me almost wickedly.

"An attempt at a better working relationship," I replied. "I asked her

opinion about something, and she lit up like a candle."

"Was her opinion any good?"

"Yes, actually. Although it differed from mine," I said.

"Go figure. You two couldn't be any more different if you came from
opposite ends of the galaxy."

"Thank you," I said with relief, as I was feeling way too similar to
Tanya lately.
"Don't mention it. Hey, I have a favor to ask. I've got to get a mock-
up done in the next few hours and have to work through lunch.
Would you mind getting me a veggie on rye at the deli downstairs?"

"Sure. I was about to head down there anyway."

Gloria smiled at me over the glass display counter at Goodwin's. Her

dark brown hair was in a bun and under a hair cap, and today, she
wore a pair of bright blue eyeglasses to match her apron.

"You want the usual, honey?"

"Hi, Gloria. Yes, the Gobbler, please. And, can you add a Larkspur
with a side of carrot sticks? This is all to go."

"You got it," she said, turning to the fridge and removing two small
packs of carrot sticks. "Ranch dip?"

"Nope. Going healthy today."

"So I guess I can't sell you on any German chocolate cake?"

I dipped my head. "Maybe a small slice." And I'd give Alice half.

"Gloria's German chocolate cake is to die for," someone said behind

me. "The perfect afternoon antidote to a sugar crash."

Edward.

For a moment, I lost my breath.

Where had he come from?

"How fortunate, since I start nodding around three every day," I said
with a quick glance back at him. His hair was more chaotic than
usual, but it was his gaze, beautiful and soft, that shot a dart of
feeling into my heart.
"Don't let your boss see that," he replied playfully.

"I doubt there's any chance of that, seeing as how he seems to be

avoiding the messenger."

Fuck! Why had I said that?

A long silence passed. I studiously kept my gaze on Gloria as she

packed up the food I'd ordered, during which time I trotted out onto
an imaginary ship's gangplank, then walked myself right off the end
of it.

"I didn't think you'd notice," he murmured. "Or care."

"I don't," I lied. "But I don't appreciate being snubbed. It's not my fault
I shared something you didn't want to see."

He moved to the side of me, impaling me with those eyes of his. "I'm
not snubbing you," he whispered. "I'm trying to placate Tanya.
Actually, I'm trying to groom her for one of Colin's advertising
positions. I think she'd do better in his department. I think we all
would."

"Wow. That's… awesome," I said like an inarticulate dork, and he

gave me one of his blinding smiles. It actually pushed me back and
to the side, against the counter. I splayed my hand against the glass,
searching for an anchor.

"Here you go, Bella," Gloria said, and set my bag of food on top of
the glass, saving me from looking like a total fool. "That'll be
eighteen twenty-five, please."

"Wait for me?" Edward asked as Gloria ran my card.

What?

"Why? Won't Tanya see us walk back in together and jump to

conclusions again?"
We were whispering together like kids telling naughty secrets.

His eyebrow crooked. "Let her jump. We're not doing anything
wrong. Besides, I was favoring you, but it was because you
surprised me with how damn good you are."

Surprised and embarrassed by the compliment, I made a sound of

disbelief as I retrieved my credit card. I wanted to back away from
Edward and his maddening, confusing invasion of my space, but I
had something to say… and I didn't want the people behind him in
line to hear me.

"You may be the boss, but you're an idiot, and I got lucky, that's all," I
hissed under my breath, reaching for the bag on the counter. "Alice
is just as good, if not better, than me. I don't want any handouts, all
right? And, I don't want to be treated any differently from anyone
else. You see how that can backfire, right?"

He gave me a look of exasperation, and then Gloria claimed his

attention.

"What'll it be, Edward? Cozumel?"

He gave her a lopsided grin. "How about a Pentwater Club?"

She blushed like a teenager at his crooked smile. So did Edward in

response, which charmed the hell out of me.

Then, he turned and shrugged at me, as if he was embarrassed at

Gloria's reaction. Or his own.

Rolling my eyes, I sighed and tapped my foot as Gloria set about

making his triple decker sandwich. Okay, maybe I'd wait as he'd
asked, but I'd punish him a little for it, too.

"You're not the only one who can make her blush. She's got a soft
spot for Seth, too. Plus, she routinely flirts with men."
Edward staggered back dramatically with his hand across his chest
as if I'd stabbed him in the heart, bumping into the woman behind
him in line. Watching him whip around apologetically, seeing the
woman's ire change to rapture at the sight of his contrite face, had
me bursting out into laughter. Damn, we women went crazy stupid
nuts for a good-looking guy.

"Oh, bite your tongue, young lady," Gloria barked, obviously having
heard me. Which made me laugh even harder.

The laughter felt good. Letting go around Edward also felt freeing;
although, as I straightened and caught sight of his enraptured face, I
stopped abruptly.

Why was he-

"Why are you looking at me that way?"

My breath shuddered as his light green gaze picked its way around
my face-my mouth, my nose, my eyes, where he lingered.

Damn it all to hell, I could feel the embarrassing horror of my own

blush.

"You look happy . I've just never seen you look this way before. It's
mesmerizing."

The raw honesty of his compliment nipped the bud of my knee-jerk

reaction. That, and the line of people who all seemed to be looking
my way. The two women wore tenuous smiles of their own, while the
man in line eyed me appreciatively.

I was live entertainment.

Pursing my lips, I kicked my foot back and turned away. I had no

reply for Edward's comment, but maybe I didn't need to say
anything. Maybe it was okay sometimes to take a compliment at face
value, even if it was from a former enemy. Especially when it
seemed sincere.

Retreating a few feet to the side, I held vigil over the potato chip
display. Lays, Fritos, Doritos. Good choices, all, unless you
happened to gain weight just by smelling the bag's contents.

Edward kept an eye on me, jump-starting my heart with every

glance, making my foot do a jiggy across the floor.

Come on, hurry up. I feel stupid waiting for you.

I don't even know why I'm waiting.

No, don't hurry. I'm scared. Who am I now with you?

Sooner than anticipated, he was bearing down on me, eyes laser-

focused on mine, a lopsided smile in place.

"We could eat down here," he suggested, and cocked his head at
the empty table just outside of the entrance.

What?

I wasn't ready to do anything so civilized with him.

"Or not," he amended, reading the look of alarm on my face. "But I

did want to talk to you, and this seems like a good place for it."

He wanted to talk to me?

I turned and darted for the exit, and he hurried after me, catching the
door for me.

"About what?" I asked, my mind a mess.

"Can we just sit for a few minutes? It's never a good time to talk to
you, is all."
My stomach tightened, my steps reluctantly slowing as he stopped
beside the table he'd indicated earlier. As I turned to face him, it
dawned on me.

He meant personal talking, not business.

"And if Tanya sees us? Because she could walk down here at any
minute."

His expression darkened. "Let her. We're not doing anything wrong,
but I'm also not going to let her complaints control all of my
interactions with you. Not to mention, I'm sure both you and I would
be better advocates of the truth than her warped version of it."

"Truth doesn't matter when it comes to someone like Tanya. Her

perception is the only right one."

"No," he said. "It's not, because you and I have our own versions of
the truth."

Smiling, he pulled out a chair invitingly for me. While my insides

were in turmoil, I could feel that my face was frozen. Still, I walked
passively over and sat on the very edge of it.

I was afraid Edward was going to sit in the chair next to me, so I was
relieved when he chose the one across from me.

"Sure you don't just want to eat here?" he asked again as he set his
bag of food on the table.

"Positive," I replied as my grip tightened around my own. "I have

Alice's lunch also, and she's hungry and on a deadline."

He chuckled, looking at me as if the sun had set in his eyes. I

couldn't help wondering if my sitting here with him was the cause,
and dropped my gaze to the iron cut-out design on the tabletop,
unable to look at him for long. An unsmiling Edward was striking. A
happy Edward was beautiful and terrifying.
"I wanted to thank you personally for the warning about Tanya, which
allowed me to do some damage control," he said, and my eyes
snapped back to him. "I knew she was unhappy with me, but not to
the degree she'd consider going to HR."

"You were worried before we ever left for lunch that day," I reminded
him. "Can I ask why?"

He exhaled and gave me a piercing look, studying me as if trying to

decide what, if anything, to tell me. When I raised my eyebrow at
him, he reluctantly chuckled.

"Your droll facial expressions are priceless," he said, his smile

disappearing as his gaze went distant and thoughtful.

"I was a damn fool and got too friendly with Tanya at last year's
Christmas party," he continued. "She thought it meant more than
what it did, and was angry and hurt. I reported the issue to HR in
case any problems arose, but have had to establish clear work
boundaries with her ever since. I've even had Alice help review her
work, in case I'm biased, but please don't repeat that."

He waited for my nod of assent before continuing in a low, confiding

tone. "All that said, I was afraid that what she might tell you about
that night would make you hate me even more."

Butterflies. In my stomach.

"Why, because I don't already have enough dirt on you?" I asked,

wrapping my free arm around my midsection.

He just looked at me with a sheepish expression, his thumb

smoothing across one of his eyebrows, as he waited for me to
continue. While I really wasn't ready to admit that I no longer hated
him, he'd baited the hook for me.

"I don't think I hate you to distraction anymore. If I did, I couldn't work
for you, seeing as how you've never kept your distance as you
hinted in the interview you would."

I saw his chest rise and fall at my admission, then he cocked his
head at me, a look of hope on his face.

"You don't hate me anymore?"

My heart sped up then dropped. "I don't… hate the person you are
today," I admitted, giving him that much.

He was so visibly pleased at my comment that I had to look away

again. I didn't know how to deal with this Edward. Or with myself.

"You know, I always check up on the new hires for the first month or
so," he said, confusing me for a moment, until I realized he was
answering my accusation that he hadn't kept his distance from me.

"Tanya would disagree. She was very clear that you seemed to be
favoring me. Or, do you make it a habit to walk behind a new hire's
desk daily?"

Brows knitted, he gave me a look of confusion. "The corridor

between yours and Tanya's cubicles leads directly to my office. So
your accusation could be about either of you. Or about anyone who
sits in those rows."

"Yes, but you weren't interested in what anyone else was doing, least
of all Tanya. She also made that very clear."

"Again, I always check up on the new hires. I'm up to speed on

Tanya's performance, and didn't need to babysit her."

I stiffened. "You didn't need to babysit me, either."

"Bad word choice," he soothed. "And no, I certainly didn't. You're a

natural. I'm glad you're here, so don't think I'm discounting you now.
Like I said, I appreciate that you let me know how Tanya was feeling.
I'm trying to mitigate any further accusations about favoritism toward
you."
Mollified, I nodded. "But now the pendulum is swinging the other
way-you should be careful about how much attention you give to
Tanya."

He cocked his head curiously at me with a small smile. "Thanks for

the warning, but you're not paying attention. Haven't you seen me
over at Anna's desk? Or Seth's?"

Well, shit.

"Obviously no . Okay, then. You're on top of it."

He was still smiling. "I wouldn't have thought you'd be so altruistic

when it came to me."

I stood. "Thanks for the talk, it's been enlightening."

Then he was laughing. "So prickly, Bella."

"Stop acting as if we're friends. We're not. You're my boss, I'm your
employee, and I did you a good turn because my conscience
wouldn't allow it otherwise. That's all," I lied again, needing him to
back off. This carefree side of him was too damn likable, and I didn't
want to like him.

His laughter abruptly died, and there was anger and disappointment
in his eyes. Conversely, I felt horrible for bursting his bubble.

"Oh, we're definitely not friends. That would be a bad idea,

considering we're boss and employee, and you barely respect that,"
he said in a low tone, rebuking me. "I think it's due to our past,
though, which is why I'm interested in clearing things up. Can we
please do that?"

The emotional seesaw I was on tipped again; stung that he'd

chastised me, my words came out snappish. "You routinely made my
life a living hell. What's to clear up? The fact that you were an
asshole? You really think that can be cleared up?"
He stood slowly, his gaze pinning me in place. "Are you ready to talk
about this?"

The look of hope in his eyes both angered and killed me, and my
knees began to shake lightly as I considered his question.

Was I ready?

"I'll do whatever you need me to do," he added.

So dangerously persuasive.

I was on the verge of agreeing until I imagined how the conversation

would go, and the familiar feelings of nausea and panic kicked in.

"No," I said, and took off, my heels clacking quickly across the
pavement.

He kept pace with me, and I felt his intense gaze like lightning racing
up my back.

"You're getting closer, though."

"Stop pressing."

"I'm really not. I've been very patient."

"Then why do I feel this way?"

"You're scared. I get it. I am, too."

Fuck, that just terrified me more.

"What are you scared of?" I snapped, ignoring the people around us
as I entered the opening in the roundabout door, cutting off his reply
when he couldn't follow.

It didn't slow him down at all, though. Edward entered the building by
using the door beside the roundabout, and was already waiting for
me with steely eyes and a tense jaw when the circling door opening
finally let me out.

Tightening my grip around the bag I held, I walked past him with a
glare.

"You're not the only one with a painful past," he said in a fervent tone
as we strode almost step-in-step for the bank of elevators. "You're
not the only victim."

My throat tightened at the raw note of pain in his voice. "Maybe not,
but I was your victim, and I don't owe you anything."

I had expected anger from him in response to my words, so was

taken aback by the look of entreaty on his face.

"Don't you want to know why?"

My heart leaped up into my throat, stealing my breath.

"Stop it," I whispered.

I'm afraid, and right now isn't the time, I wanted to say.

Seeing my fear, he exhaled in agitation, stepping back as a couple of

people moved past us toward the open elevator. I hadn't even
realized the doors had opened, and looked away from the curious
glances they gave me as they passed, their faces a blur.

Frozen in place, I watched one of Edward's hands rise to tug harshly

at his hair. I'd never seen him lose his composure like this, but he
recovered quickly.

"Damn it," he said, shaking his head. "For every step forward with
you, I have to take two back."

"I guess so," I replied, sad. Angry. Heavy. "Well then, stop pushing."
He gave me a hard stare. "If I didn't, we wouldn't get anywhere.
You'd be happy continuing to barely tolerate me."

It caught my heart and wrung it out, because he was wrong. "I'm not
happy doing that," I admitted quietly.

" Content, then," he replied, flinging an arm out angrily. "And I don't
want you content in that regard. I want an employee I don't have to
walk on eggshells around."

I hid how stricken I was at his words by moving away from him and
stepping into the elevator. It fucking hurt that he felt that way around
me. There wasn't much worse than the realization you made
someone else uncomfortable to that point. Then again, he'd once
made me feel that way.

But this was now, I reminded myself. Damn it, I had to stop thinking
so much about the past when it came to him.

Edward followed me, narrowly escaping the closing of the elevator

doors. I kept my gaze on him, but it was a long moment before he
looked my way.

"Sorry," I mouthed at him. "I'm trying."

He studied me for a long moment before his eyes softened, and he

nodded.

Even when I moved my gaze away from him, I still felt the intensity of
his stare. I sensed his frustration, and squirmed guiltily inside. I
wanted to say he was right. That I was getting closer, that I was
trying… but the words were trapped on the other side of my painfully
tight throat.

I was emotionally exhausted, and didn't know how much longer I

would be able to outrun myself. Or him.
Chapter 13
When whiplash isn't

just an injury.

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

Paige, Aileen, and Renee, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 13

The repetitive pop of rubber balls hitting walls echoed as I raised my

racket and swung at my own ball. It whacked satisfyingly against the
far wall and hit the floor, and Rose swung her racket against it in a
fierce return.

"How's it going with Boss Man?" she asked, and the ball zipped past
me in a blur of color.

Damn it.

I caught the elusive thing, glaring at Rose. Ever since our college
days when I had trouble talking about what was bothering me, Rose
had pushed racquetball on me. According to her, racquetball was the
only sport where you could simultaneously be looking at the ball and
it would still hit you on the back of the head at ninety miles an hour. It
was her wake up and smell the damn coffee cure-all.
While I appreciated the sentiment, racquetball was not one of my
strengths. Neither was talking while I was trying to concentrate on
not being tagged.

"Fine, I guess." I answered her question about Edward. "He's finally

stopped pressing me to talk about the past," I replied with a grunt as
I sent the ball flying again.

"Oh ho," she said, scrambling crablike to the side to make her return
volley. "He's giving you a bit of peace then?"

I grunted as I whacked the ball down the court, but it was off-center
and didn't make it back across the line.

Peace wasn't exactly what I'd say Edward was giving me. It felt more
like rejection. Like a blank wall of heavy silence. If I thought he'd
been ignoring me before, it was nothing compared to what I'd been
experiencing for the last few weeks.

"He's ghosting me," I said, as she teed up for another serve. "Never
even looks my way anymore."

"That's what you've wanted from the beginning, though."

Yeah. Or so I thought.

Now that he was avoiding me, it stirred up all kinds of feelings.

Number one being shock, because apparently, he'd changed his
mind about avoiding me. Number two being confusion, because I
shouldn't care, followed by anger because I did, morphing into plain
ole hurt.

When he walked by my cubicle now, he didn't even glance my way.

Not even if I happened to be talking at the time. More times than not,
he walked between the cubicles of other rows, taking the long way
around to or from his office. And he had to know I'd notice, especially
since I'd made such a point of it with him before.
Thoughts about his puzzling behavior plagued my mind often. Was
he acting that way because of Tanya, or was it really because of me?
Had he run out of patience? Was he truly backing off? Giving up on
me?

Why did that idea fill me with such despair?

Which meant I was the worst hypocrite ever, because I knew I'd shut
him down repeatedly. And now that he was doing what I wanted, I
was discovering it didn't seem to be what I wanted at all.

I felt as if I was torn in two; I felt unhinged . I'd been given exactly
what I'd asked for, and had found it painfully empty. My spirits were
lower than they'd been in a long time. I was having trouble
concentrating at work and sleeping at night.

Edward had always been so responsive toward me, eager to humor

me, almost bending over backward to show me who he was today.
But the complete blank wall he was with me now made me want to
bang my head against it. Or maybe to tear it down.

"I don't like being ignored deliberately ." I huffed in answer to Rose's
statement, driving the ball down the court with all my might. When
the ball shot immediately off the wall into the side of my thigh, Rose
chortled in laughter.

"Your aim is for shit when you're pissed."

I bent at the waist, hands on my knees, glaring at the ball between

my feet.

"So, you don't want him to ignore you?"

"No. Yes! I don't know," I growled. "I just don't like who he is lately."

"You didn't like him before, either."

Since it was Rose's serve, I tapped the ball with my toe and sent it
back her way.
"No, I didn't like him when he was a teenager . He's okay now. But…
just not lately . He's changed."

I straightened, watching as she bounced the ball between her racket

and the floor. "So, you don't think it's you who's changed?"

"What do you mean?"

"You seem less prickly toward him lately. You're not complaining
about him like you used to."

"Maybe because it's all internal," I answered.

"You know, whatever you go after, you'll get," she said with a wink.

She sounded like a fortune cookie.

" What?"

"If you're looking for anger, that's what you'll get. If you're searching
for answers, that's what you'll find. Seems to me that you haven't
decided what you really want when it comes to Edward, so you're
stuck in confusion. Now, hit that ball if you can!" she said and lobbed
her serve.

I did, and she immediately whacked it back down the opposite side
of the court, forcing me to chase the ball's path. I caught it just barely
before sending it back, and we volleyed it a few times before I
missed again.

"I don't think I've ever seen you this distracted," Rose said. "You
must be tied up in more knots than a pretzel."

"I'm just not in the mood," I grumbled as she swung the racket again.

"Focus!" Rose yelled. "I want a workout. Hit the ball! Pretend it's
Edward's head."

"I'm not that violent!" I huffed as I leaped over and caught her serve.
"No, just confused, right?"

"Right."

She whacked the ball. "So talk to him."

I leapfrogged a couple of steps to whack it back.

"You won't get anywhere until you do," she added.

"He's giving me the silent treatment," I reminded her.

"Maybe he's decided to leave it all up to you," she countered.

Which made sense. Maybe he was . That made me wonder if he

was trying to force my hand, or was simply respecting my wishes.
But that would take a leap of faith on his part, considering how he
thought I was content with the current status quo.

I hit the ball, pretending it was the manifestation of all my frustration,

and felt the resounding jolt all the way up to my shoulder.

"I'm in limbo." I huffed. "And I hate it."

"So do the limbo. Take a step. It's supposed to be good for us to do

something scary every day."

Every day? "I used up my quota when I took this job."

"Bullshit. You've got more guts than anyone I know."

"You're my friend. You're biased."

She shot the ball back sharply, and I missed it by a yard.

"Yes, but I also know what you've been through. Stop selling yourself
short."
"Sorry," I panted, bringing my racket up to bounce the netting against
my head. "I don't mean to be such a pain in the ass."

"You're not. Damn it, Bella. Why are you being so hard on yourself?"

Her question brought me up short. "Am I?"

" Yes! You know I love you to hell and back, but your attitude could
use some work. You're in the dumps, girl."

It was the same thing she'd said to me years ago soon after I'd
moved to Chicago.

"I'm in the dumps?" I asked in a small voice.

"So far down, you reek. Don't you smell it?"

I crossed my arms, the racket hanging at my hip. "I guess not. Guess
I've gotten used to it."

"Well, now you know," she said, drawing back her arm to hit the ball
again. "Get back into position. We're not done yet."

Her playing forced me to pay attention then, and I chased my

frustration up and down the court, until I was sweaty and out of
breath.

"There we go." Rose panted, tipping her water bottle back into her
mouth.

I patted my towel against my forehead and temples, feeling my

thighs quivering from exertion. "I'm done."

She grinned. "I know. You did good. You feel good?"

"I feel like sitting."

"You should probably shower first. Like I said earlier, you reek."
"You're hilarious."

We left the racquetball court and headed for the locker room,
receiving glances from guys as we passed them. I felt gross and
sweaty; my ponytail had fallen from its perch high at the back of my
head to my neck, and long strands of hair fell over my left boob.
What they saw in me now defied the imagination.

As we strolled across the floor where the weights were, I saw the big
guy who worked in Accounting. From work. He was performing bicep
curls while glancing between Rose and me with dawning recognition
on his face. Wow, he was huge. Like a tree trunk. Muscles on top of
muscles.

"Bella!" he exclaimed, dropping the dumbbells with a metallic clang.

"Uh," I said, biting my lip. I was horrible with names, but I definitely
remembered him from karaoke night. He'd sung "My Way" by Frank
Sinatra, moving up on stage in a very un-Sinatra-like way, probably
making the man roll over in his grave. It had been truly horrible, but
he'd somehow hammed it up perfectly, and everyone had loved him
anyway.

"Emmett McCarty," he said. "Accounting geek?"

"Yes, right." I nodded. "I remember you."

He grinned boyishly. "I remember you, too. That was quite a

dismount you did that night."

Figures he'd remember that.

"I'm pretty sure your performance topped mine," I drawled, and he

threw his head back in laughter.

"Maybe so. I like to make an impression." He glanced to the side of

me where Rose was standing, his eyes shining extra bright as his
smile widened.
"This is my friend, Rosalie Hale."

Rose nodded at him, acting as if she was unaware of his obvious

interest, but I could tell she was intrigued when she raised her hand
and tried to smooth back her hair.

"If you two don't have plans tonight, a few of us from work are going
to Moxy's Downtown on North La Salle," he said. "The DJ is cool,
and you haven't really lived until you've had a Zombie taco while
buzzing at midnight."

Rose crooked her eyebrow at me in a way that let me know I should

seriously consider going.

"What time?"

"Come anytime after nine o'clock, and we'll be there."

"Okay, thanks," I said. "I guess we'll see you later then."

As we passed him, I saw Emmett give Rose a wink.

"He's awfully ballsy to give a girl he doesn't know a wink like that,"
she told me as we entered the club's locker room for women.

"Oh, that's nothing," I scoffed with a laugh. "You should have seen
him trying to sing like Frank Sinatra while drunkenly trying to move
like a boyband dancer."

Moxy's Downtown was a study of glass, black lacquered surfaces,

brick walls, and hot pink overhead lighting. When we walked through
the doors, the music was at a decibel of six-loud enough to get your
head nodding, but not too loud to hinder conversation. The pink-
hued crowd, which wasn't too overwhelming yet, made it no secret
that we were being scrutinized as we moved throughout the room.
Rose and I had dressed to thrill, and we fit right in with the rest of the
females with their skin on display. I was wearing a navy leather
halter mini dress that knotted between my breasts, and Rose was in
a black two-piece mini dress with a bikini top.

" Woah," I'd said when I saw her outfit. " Emmett doesn't stand a
chance."

" Hey, I've got it, so I'm flaunting it. So are you, Tinkerbella. That
dress is slamming with your hair color and skin tone."

My dress was a lot more subdued than hers-than most every girl's
here-but hopefully, enough to catch the attention of a man interesting
enough to bring home.

As we moved deeper into the room and closer to the pink backlit bar,
someone reached out and tapped my bare shoulder.

Emmett.

"You made it," he said, as I met his smile with one of my own. He
leaned in for a hug, and I realized he was already merrily buzzing. I
saw him do a double take at Rose's outfit-actually jump -then he
grabbed her close in a hug too.

Rose, who usually hated being touched by strangers, melted against

him. I felt my mouth gape, then I was chuckling.

"My God, he gives the best hugs," she said into my ear. "It's like
being pulled against a teddy bear's chest."

Emmett directed us over to the corner and a U-shaped black couch.

"This is Jake and Erik. Jake's a finance geek, and Erik's our IT
Manager," he said, then bent my way. "Erik's practically engaged, so
pick Jake."

I shook my head at him and mock-punched his arm.

Erik, who'd been perusing his phone, was Asian and brown-haired
with a shy smile. Jake, I noticed, was the man Edward had shrugged
aside when he'd tried to help me off the floor during the karaoke
fiasco.

"Hello," Jake said, and stood as we approached. He was easily as

tall as Emmett, although not as buff. Inky black hair covered his head
in waves, and his smile was tentative. "You're on your feet this time."

"I'm never going to live that night down," I said with a wince.

"It was a memorable performance to begin with," Jake said with a

laugh. "But yeah, I have to admit you cemented yourself in karaoke
lore when you capped it with that exit."

"I think my performance should be good enough for the next five
years of employee participation, don't you?" I asked, and he
laughed, then asked what I wanted to drink.

After that, unfortunately, he stuck to my side like a burr. And it wasn't

that I wasn't interested in him; it was that I was hoping to bring a guy
home with me tonight. Of course, that idea was shot, unless he
found someone else or drank himself into a stupor, which wasn't
likely.

"Do you want to have dinner with me some night?" he shouted as

the dancing began and the music volume climbed.

I tipped back the second appletini of the evening and gave him a
look. "Jake, I don't think it would be a good idea to date anyone from
work."

Frowning, he slid closer to me on the couch. "But we don't work

together. I never even see you, Bella."

I glanced Rose's way, as Emmett led her onto the dance floor.

No help there.
"I'm sorry, Jake."

He tilted his head and gave me a look. "I'm not giving up."

Great.

"Let me get you a drink this time," I said and stood, politely trying to
dismiss him. "I'll be right back."

Nope.

He followed me all gentleman-like over to the bar with its pink

lowlights, his hand resting on the small of my back. As we moved
past a chain of bodies, I caught sight of Edward's pointed, cool stare
and stumbled.

Jake's hands were around my shoulders, his mouth brushing the

shell of my ear. "Hey, you okay?"

In the next instant, someone crossed in front of me, blocking my

view. I shook my head, wondering if I was seeing things, because no
way was Edward there. But when the person had passed, there he
was, wearing a black button-up dress shirt and dark jeans, standing
with another man at a cocktail table across the room.

Once our eyes met again, I saw his gaze flick to Jake behind me,
before he nodded his head and turned his face away.

Oh. Was he actually acknowledging me now?

"Shit. Cullen," I heard Jake yell in a definite unhappy tone as he

pushed me gently forward.

I gave him a look of askance.

"We don't get along," he answered shortly.

"Funny. Neither do we," I murmured, too low for Jake to hear.

From the bar, I could see Edward and his good-looking friend in my
peripheral vision. When a couple of scantily clad girls approached
their table, I held my breath.

"What can I get you?" Someone repeated rather rudely, and I faced
the woman behind the bar.

"Sorry," I said. "A Bud and an appletini."

Jake leaned in close, his mouth against my ear again. He wasn't

kidding when he said he wasn't giving up.

"Thanks, Bella."

I slid my card out of my purse, watching as the blonde girl in a black

cut-out sheath sidled close enough to Edward that their bodies
meshed together. A moment later, she backed away with a scowl,
then tugged sharply on the arm of her friend.

I giggled, enjoying the fact that Edward had apparently set the girl
back on her heels. Obviously, he wasn't there on the take. Or if he
was, the blonde wasn't his type. As I was wondering which it might
be, his eyes met mine again, and my heart jumped.

"You're interested in Cullen?" Jake shouted painfully into my ear, and

I spun to face him in shock and anger.

"What? No."

"Could've fooled me," Jake yelled, and he looked really angry.

Well, shitballs.

"I'm only looking his way because I know him," I explained. "Because
I'm surprised to see him here!"

I also wanted to see what would happen with the girls.

The woman behind the bar set a bottle of Bud in front of us, and
Jake grabbed it.

"You really suck at lying, and evidently, you have double standards.
Thanks again for the beer," he growled at my face, then turned and
walked away from me.

"Actually, I don't suck at lying," I said to his back.

And double standards? What the fuck had he meant by that? Just
because I'd been eyeing Edward, I had double standards? So much
for the nice guy act.

The man in line behind me cracked a grin at me. "Lovers' spat?"

He was wearing a printed T-shirt, so likely he was still in college and

wet behind the ears. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but
it had me amending my earlier observation of man to boy . Not
exactly my type.

"Foreplay," I snapped, and turned back around as he burst into

laughter.

The barwoman was down at the other end of the bar talking to her
coworker while shaking something in a silver mixing glass. Glancing
back the other way revealed Edward was gone, but that his friend
still held vigil at the table.

It took every ounce of my willpower not to comb the area

immediately for Edward.

On my way back over to the couches in the corner, I swept the room
for likely partners. Although I met a lot of interested eyes, not one of
them caused a spark. Until I saw Edward again, when the spark lit a
fire in my belly. He was talking to Emmett and Rose. Jake, thankfully,
was nowhere in sight.
"Bella!" Emmett shouted as I drew close. "Look who's here! We've
got a little company reunion going on!"

Rose gave me a wide-eyed expression, then fanned herself

exaggeratedly.

Edward's smile disappeared as I approached, but before I could say

a word to him, he'd turned back to Emmett. I didn't hear what he
said, but then he was moving back and away, obviously not staying
to hang out.

And he could have walked off to the left, but instead, he came right
at me. His beautiful face was stoic, his eyes dismissive as he passed
me. We might have been strangers.

"Bella," I think he said, but I couldn't be certain since he didn't bother

to address me personally.

It rocked me. Again.

I felt cheated for some reason.

"You didn't tell me he was so good-looking," Rose yelled when I

reached her.

I tilted my glass back and took a long drink, trying not to glance back
the way he'd gone.

"Maybe I don't think he is," I told her illogically.

"Oh, I don't think there's any question," she replied with a laugh. "He
actually seemed really nice, too."

"He is nice. Now," I yelled back . "So perfectly damn nice," I

murmured to myself.

I lasted maybe five minutes before looking Edward's way again.

Same table. Same table mate. Only now, he was facing the other
way, as if he didn't want to take the chance of our eyes meeting
again.

Still giving me what I thought I wanted, I guessed.

I downed the rest of my appletini. "I'm leaving," I told Rose.

She gaped at me. "Already?"

"Jake's mad at me, Erik's practically engaged, and you've claimed

Emmett."

And Edward is here and ignoring me, and I'm feeling sad and
confused.

"Oh, honey. I'm sorry you're not having a good time. You'll call for an
Uber?"

I hugged her hard. "I will, yes."

"Okay. Text me when you get home."

I laughed. "Text me when you get home."

She arched an eyebrow at me. "If things go as planned, that won't be

until tomorrow."

Well, at least one of us would be getting lucky tonight.

Phone in hand, I headed for the exit. I could have passed by

Edward's table with my nose in the air if I wanted, but perversely, I
didn't want him to know I was leaving. I liked the idea of him thinking
he was ignoring someone who wasn't even present anymore.

Of course, that plan backfired when I saw him leave.

Edward clapped the shoulder of the man he was with, then strolled
quickly for the exit, weaving through the crowd of bodies without a
backward glance.

Before I realized what I was doing, I was following behind him as fast
as my heels-and everybody else in my way-would allow. I didn't
know what I looked like, but from the expressions of the faces I saw,
I was finally coming unhinged.

I felt like it.

When I arrived at the exit, I saw Edward had paused outside. I

stopped abruptly, my fingers splayed across the glass of the door
from the inside. One of his hands rose to comb through his hair, an
unstudied model's move of grace, but the gesture was short and
rough, suggesting agitation.

I saw the blue light from his phone and realized he was Ubering as
well. Which meant his ride would be there in a matter of minutes .

Shoving the door open in a burst of energy, my heels clicked onto

the pavement, catching Edward's attention. His surprise swiftly
morphed into indifference as I advanced, which just pissed me off
more.

" Fine," I yelled at him. "You win! You want to have it out? Let's have
it out."

And I walked right up to him until only a few feet separated us and
we were breathing the same air. His eyes were chipped jade
gemstones in the dark, simmering with something as they lingered
on my eyes and face.

He exhaled sharp and hard. "My place or yours?"

Chapter 14
Let's finally do this.

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

Paige, and Aileen, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 14

Edward's question- your place or mine -shocked me at first, but it

wasn't as though we could simply go to a mom-and-pop restaurant
and sit down for a public tête-à-tête over coffee. I had some ugly
things to say, and I had a feeling he did, too.

"I don't feel like I'm winning, by the way, but I'm relieved you're
coming to me," Edward mentioned. "I was giving you space, waiting
until you were ready to talk."

"Oh, did the winning remark rankle? Well, it worked like a fucking
charm," I replied, backing away from him to eye the top of the
Downtown Moxy building. It was a hotel…

Edward's astonished voice: "You want to-"

"No," I yelped. "I wasn't exactly prepared for what would happen
after I found you."
"We're just going to have a badly needed talk, Bella."

The look in his eyes was close to one of amusement, as if I'd hinted
at something more.

"Oh, please. That's the last thing I have on my mind," I snapped and
strode away.

If he followed, we'd go to my place. It was within walking distance,

and I needed the air. If he didn't follow, I still needed the air.

As I crossed the street onto North La Salle, I heard his footsteps. In

no time, he was easily neck-and-neck with me, his face aimed
toward mine. It made me… crazy nervous, because reality was
starting to kick in. I forced myself to take deep breaths as little sparks
of fear and adrenaline worked their way all up and down my body.

"We're going to your place?" Edward wondered.

"Since you're giving me a choice, we're doing this on my turf."

"I don't care where we go, as long as we finally get to do it."

I scoffed at his choice of words, throwing him a fulsome glare.

Wanting to shake him up, I guessed, because he seemed too at
ease, and how could he be so at ease when I felt like I was going to
crawl out of my skin?

"You're over there thinking everything is going to go oh-so-smoothly."

"I'm hoping to clear things up," he said, unaffected by my attitude. "I

want to help get rid of your anger, that's all."

"You're going to have to face it first."

We were coming up on Hubbard then, just two streets away from

Wacker Drive, when he suddenly reached out to grab my arm. I
stiffened and gasped, trying to jerk away.
Instead of releasing me as I thought he would, Edward's hold only
tightened. In the same instant, a car horn blared, and I flinched back
from the street, horrified that I'd been about to step in front of a
moving vehicle.

"Shit!" I cried, raising a hand to my head as my eyes filled with tears.

Edward was quick to soothe me. "Now that I have you, I'm not about
to let anything happen to you," he said, but I was embarrassed and
yanked my arm free.

"Thank you, I'll be more careful," I said and sniffed, my heart still
racing.

Damn it.

The next few minutes passed in silence as we moved farther down

La Salle, and I was relieved to see that others were out walking, too;
although they were young, happy, and carefree, not dark and tense
like me.

"So what about Jacob? " Edward asked.

I was confused. "What about him?"

"You two looked pretty close back there."

I shook my head as we began our climb onto the Marshall Bridge

over the Chicago River. "He was with Erik and Emmett, not me. He
did say you two didn't get along, though. So, do you rub everyone
you meet the wrong way?"

"Only if someone gets in the way of something I want," he replied

shortly.

Because of the way he'd asked about Jacob and me, I wondered if…
I was something he wanted? The idea was unfathomable. We might
have been attracted to each other-oh, hell, who was I kidding? I was
attracted to Edward-but we worked together. He was my boss.
Don't be stupid, I told myself.

We reached my building in record time, but the closer I came to the

front door, the more my steps slowed. I was afraid. Afraid of myself
and what I would say. Afraid of what he might say.

"Don't back down on me now," Edward said quietly, his patience

grating on mine.

"I'm not," I snarled as I punched in the code for the entrance. "Just
don't crowd me."

It was after eleven, and the building was quiet. The elevator was
deathly so, and I closed my eyes with a long sigh of release, feeling
his gaze like an irritant. In the seconds it took to go from the ground
floor to the fifth, my body stiffened all over, and I began to pant.

"We're just going to talk," his voice came to me.

"Shut up," I replied. Panted. Then unsteadily stepped off the elevator
and walked the short distance down the hall to my apartment door.

For fuck's sake, don't barf.

Tongue glued to the roof of my mouth, I poked my key into the lock
and pushed open the door. And then I stopped, swaying silently over
the welcome mat.

"Bella."

"I don't know if I can do this," I whispered as my throat tightened. My

fight or flight response was kicking in big time. "I thought I could, but
now that we're here, all I'm thinking about is shoving you back and
closing the door on you ."

And running for dear life, because I feel like I'm losing control of
everything right now.
"This is how we do it," Edward said. "One word at a time. You're
safe, I promise you."

I squeezed my eyes shut. " Save it. You're not my shrink, and I was
never safe with you."

"No, not always," he agreed after a moment, before he tentatively

pushed a palm against my shoulder and tried to guide me inside the
door.

It had me springing inside like a jackrabbit, where I turned to face

him with my hair standing on end. "How many times do I have to tell
you not to touch me!"

A look of careful patience on his face, as if he was deliberately

treading lightly with me, Edward closed the door behind him with a
quiet snick. My foyer entrance with its tiny lit lamp on the table
shrouded us both in mystery, and I hastily moved to the side to
switch on the overhead lights.

And we were alone in my studio apartment. With its dirty dishes on

the kitchen counter, one on the coffee table in front of the couch,
yesterday's shoes at the foot. My bed was unmade, the coverlet
spilling to the floor. My messy, complicated, obviously sleepless life
on display, all in glaring Technicolor, if he cared to read between the
lines.

I dropped my purse to my feet with a thud, staring at him stupidly.

The shirt he wore was unbuttoned at the throat, and I could see the
banded collar of a black T-shirt. Black on black… arms hanging
comfortably at his sides. Beautiful and at ease. If he was even half
as nervous as I was, it must have been hidden under all that je ne
sais quois .

Edward and I took countless breaths together, during which time an

anvil came to rest upon my shoulders as my heart sped up. Was it
too late to say I'd made a mistake? Because this was quickly feeling
like one. I was always too impulsive; I hadn't thought this through.
Would he turn around and leave if I asked?

Then he spoke, his words urgent and needle-like, and I knew he was
onto me; that he could sense my fear and doubt, and that I needed a
push.

"How long are you going to ignore this conversation? Would you still
be running blind from it if I hadn't forced your hand? Don't be a
coward, Bella. I want you to tell me what you're feeling . Don't close
up on me now."

Blind fury shot through my body; every ounce of pain he'd ever made
me feel zeroed down into one breathless moment. I took a step,
lacing the fingers of both hands together in a fist, then raised my
arms and swung at his face. Because he was so tall, my knuckles
only grazed the bottom of his chin, but it was a solid hit. Pain
speared the back of my hand at impact, but there was no doubt
about who was hurt worse; I heard his teeth snap together, heard his
sound of pain before he staggered back, reaching for his face.

Shocked at myself and my thoughtless response, tears immediately

filled my eyes as Edward braced himself against the back of the
door. He was massaging his jaw, staring at me in disbelief, then in
amazement.

"Wow," he said after a few long moments. "I guess I asked for that."

As the tears fell down my face, I made a sound-a half choked laugh,
half wail. He took a step near me again, and I sprang back, cupping
my right hand against my chest protectively.

"Let me see your hand," he said. "I need to make sure it's not
broken."

"It's not," I gritted, backing away from him into the living room.
He followed me, his face filled with concern. "I'm not going to hurt
you," he said, misinterpreting my move.

Then, I did laugh. Because that idea was empty . Because all he'd
ever done was hurt me.

"Too. Fucking. Late for that!" I screamed, feeling something in my

throat tear. It hurt. It burned. Oh my God, my anger was a physical
ache tearing me apart literally now. In front of the worst person ever.

"The first time we m-met, you tore my already broken heart out, shit
on it, then rammed it down my th-throat! In front of your friends. It
wasn't enough to put me in my p-place, oh no, you had to shit on me
in front of others, who then p-picked up where you left off. And now
you think you get to touch me? Just because I might have hurt
myself? Please. I don't m-matter . My pain doesn't matter.
Remember?"

Fuck, I'd devolved into stuttering. The words tore out of me in quick,
uneven bursts of garbled sound as I fought to control my breathing,
but it was no use. My body shook in anguish and a rush of
adrenaline, and the words did, too, ugly and horrible. Giving my pain
a voice out loud, in front of him, made me cry even harder. It was
emasculating and terrifying, everything I had ever feared, and I
couldn't stop it now. The memories and emotions I'd fought so hard
to contain were being fed faster and faster through the chokehold of
my mind and throat.

"I'd been s-so scared that day, too. A new school, a new home, and I
was m-missing Mom so much, thinking I'd made a horrible mistake,
even though I was trying to be a grown-up making grown-up
decisions, letting her tr-travel with my stepdad without having to
worry about me and my schooling. And my real d-dad and I weren't
close then, and I felt so out of place. Good thing y- you were there to
set me straight!"

I heard shuffling movement; through a kaleidoscope of shapes and

color, I saw the dark body that was Edward advancing again.
"No!" I yelled as I backed away, tripping over one of my shoes, falling
hard to the floor. "Do not come near me!"

"People might hear," he murmured, crouching a few feet away.

"Someone might call the cops. Is that what you want?"

I just bowed my head over my hurt hand and cried, horribly

embarrassed at the thought of my neighbors witnessing this mess-
rendered almost helpless in the face of my own rage; ashamed I'd
lost such control.

No, that was not what I wanted.

I wanted to be firm and calm and in control, and give him a slap-
down he wouldn't ever forget, but instead, I was this. Me . Bawling,
screaming, one hell of an ugly and spectacular mess.

A moment later, I felt him touch my shoulder, and I saw his hand in
front of my face. He wanted to help me up.

Lost to the rage again, I spat on it as he'd once spat at me, shoving
myself away from him.

It was difficult to stand without bracing myself, but somehow I made

it. Hunching a shoulder, I rubbed at the tears on my face. As Edward
wiped his hand along his pants leg, I stumbled to the kitchen behind
the long counter that separated it from the living room. He stayed
where he was, his body turning to follow my progress, and I couldn't
help but sense he was trying to be a port in my furious storm. Dark
and tall, a perfectly beautiful callus monster, unaffected by life's
morass, untouched by the trauma that still painted my soul in ragged
colors of red and black, black, black.

"Just look at you. God's g-gift," I choked. "Top of the class in high
school, fancy car, expensive clothes, good grades. I bet it was the
same in c-college. Everything's come so easily for Edward Cullen,
hasn't it?"
"No, Bella," he said softly. "Not even close."

" Good. B-Because I'd hate it with every fiber of my b-being if you
had it so perfect the day you humiliated me in the cafeteria in front of
everyone . And wh-why? For the unforgivable crime of getting too
close to you? Being th-thirty pounds overweight, and not your type?
Because you had some sort of p-painful hidden history that made
you act out in anger?" I gasped out as he made his way over to the
other side of the kitchen counter, slow and careful, as one might
approach a rabid dog. And it was very much how I felt at the
moment.

Just thinking of what I had to say next, had me tensing up again, my

eyes shutting against the sight of heartless, perfect him. Emotion
was making my knees shake, and I gripped the edge of the sink with
my aching hand as hard as I could. The pain helped center me,
slowly brought me back.

"And th-then you attacked me in the cafeteria," I whispered, the

words growing louder, stronger as I continued. "When I came to
school that Monday, it was only d-days after we'd buried Mom. I kept
th-thinking they were burying a stranger, because there was no
way… there was no way my fun, vibrant m- mom could be killed so
suddenly in something as stupid as a car crash." I shook my head,
still as confounded today as I had been then. "She was my b-best
friend. My cheerleader in all things. It was because of her that I was
who I was, and you tr-tried to take that from me. Fuck you!"

If I had been able to kill with solely my eyes, he would have been
burning to ash on my carpet.

No, he'd have been dead long before he'd ever graduated high
school.

"Entitled brat of the sc-school, seeing only with your eyes, and
nothing mattered but that. Nothing and no one seemed to matter to
you but you," I said brokenly.
If only he'd have realized how much I'd already been hurting that
day…

I didn't realize I'd dissolved into unspoken memories until I suddenly

noticed Edward's gaze again. Distantly, I registered that he looked
emotionally rocked, but there was a curious look of appeal on his
face that gave me the courage to continue.

"Phil, my step-father, could b-barely look me in the eyes. He felt

responsible, you see, since he'd been the one who'd talked her into
traveling with the team. But he'd been on the bus… safe … on the
bus," I said.

How ironic was it still that the man who'd had no one but my mother
to love should be saved? Because he'd never really loved me .
Because he'd often resented her attention to me. He'd tried to hide it,
but I knew. I knew.

"And so I came to school !" I laughed bitterly, my breath going hard

and staccato again. "Thinking that classes and b-books and other
kids would help me forget all the rest of it. And you … in the
lunchroom, I got too close and you tripped me somehow. I still
remember how far all the food on my tray f-flew across the room. I
can still see all those peas bouncing across the floor, see the way
the meatloaf left a skid of brown behind it. But then I'm sc-screaming
in pain because something's wr-wrong with my elbow and people are
l-laughing . I feel like I'm dying from the inside out, and people are
laughing . And I'm screaming inside, too, sc-screaming with all this
pain coming from everywhere, and there's a lunch lady who's trying
to get me to j-just stand up."

I sobbed, seeing it garishly clear in my mind. Sprawled and hurt and

alone on the floor, wanting to die, to disappear, to have never even
been born, and all the while the lunch lady just wanted me to stand
up, young lady. As if I'd taken a swan dive across the floor on
purpose.
"As l-long as I live, I'll never understand how someone else's pain is
funny," I choked out. "And I don't want to. It's unimaginable."

"It's never funny," Edward murmured. "Not even a little bit."

He'd taken a few steps around the counter toward me, his hands
raised in supplication. I saw and heard him as part of the scenery
around me, but he couldn't hurt me anymore. Hadn't he already done
his worst years ago?

"At home, Dad wanted to know what had happened."

I bent my head over the sink ledge, feeling my face's painful rictus of
a smile.

"But I c-couldn't tell him the truth, because I never told him about you
or any of the others. I wanted him to think of me as an adult. I didn't
w-want him worrying about me or trying to pull some stupid stunt
with the school b-board that would humiliate me even more. I was
sc-screaming on the inside, though; just screaming with everything I
promised myself I'd never say . Hiding my pain had become second
nature then," I whispered. God, my throat hurts. "First, because it
had been a promise I'd made to myself, and then because I'd wanted
to protect my dad."

Nobody ever told me that hiding pain and anger practically ate you
from the inside out. That it could steal your reasoning. Or maybe the
shrink had, and I'd glossed over it? Still mired under all the
heaviness? Clinging so hard to what I'd known?

A soft sound had me raising my gaze to Edward's face, and I could

feel how heavy my eyelids were. I was… tired. So exhausted. And
kind of empty. The air was heavy, and I was seeing things. For a
second, it looked like he was going to his knees.

Oh. He was going to his knees. Right there on the kitchen floor
beside me, and I staggered back in surprise, bursting into fresh
tears.
His arresting face was upturned to mine, looking as if an inferno was
burning him from within, his beautiful eyes sorrowful, contrite, sorry .
Everything I'd needed to see, had wanted to see so many years ago,
he was giving me in spades now, and it was breaking me apart all
over again. And I shook my head at him because I didn't know how I
could take his pain on top of all the rest of mine.

"No," I sobbed. " Don't."

He reached a hand out for one of mine, a tentative move that I could
tell he thought I'd reject.

"I said don't," I wailed. "You can't."

He spoke, and the words were broken. "I'm sorry."

" You can't do this, don't do this!"

"I'm sorry."

My knees giving out, I fell to the floor in front of him. Scrambling

back, I pushed his hand away. Don't touch me. Shoved him. Used
my good hand to hit at his chest, but he didn't move, didn't move.

"I'm sorry."

"Shut up!"

His eyes, his beautiful anguished eyes, were tearing my heart out
again .

"I'm sorry."

I was shattering.

"Goddamn you! I hate you! I hate you!"

And I could feel the words, they were bubbling out unbidden, hurting
me, horrible and awful and shaking on the way out. The same
repeated words I'd so often thought and tried to deny-angry and
black and stinking of rage, I screamed it all at him and he never gave
an inch. Never backed down. Never shied away, no matter how ugly
I became, no matter how I tried to slap and push him back.

It was terrifying, and I was falling head first off the edge of a cliff into
all of that pain, sure I was going to die.

And so… and so… and so I gave in.

I gave in for minutes or an hour or days.

And I cried…

And I cried…

And I cried…

And it was minutes or an hour or days before I came back to

myself… in Edward's arms. In his lap. On the floor in front of my
kitchen sink. Warm against his chest, his shirt wet with my tears and
snot, his fingers cupping the back of my head against him, his arms
strong and real and around every quivering inch of me. Holding me,
healing me, helping glue the little pieces of me back together again.

Him . Of all people. The one I'd truly needed.

The awful shaking that had been such a part of my fear and rage
gradually began to lessen, my breathing evened out, and I collapsed
gratefully against his warmth, finally glad he was there and close.

"I'm sorry," he crooned again, his voice low and like honey. Soothing,
making me sigh from my head to my toes, while his fingers combed
through the hair at the nape of my neck.

He swayed us gently back and forth, and it was comforting. I didn't

want to move. But then, I became aware of my hand against his
shoulder. Of my uncomfortably wet face. That I had to blow my nose.
I cleared my throat and tried to straighten, and he resisted me, his
hands pressing tight where a moment ago they'd been relaxed.

"No," he murmured against my temple. "Let me hold you."

Since I wanted that too, I gave in for a few minutes more. It was alien
and surreal and everything I'd never expected, but oddly… blissful.

When I stiffened again, he released me slowly, and I sat back to see

that he looked as much of a peaceful wreck as I probably did. Our
eyes were hooded and sleepy, made content by warm proximity, and
I thought I saw tear tracks on his cheeks as well.

Maneuvering myself off his lap took some doing with a sore hand,
and I allowed him to take it, watching with fascination as his brows
furrowed, and he pressed a kiss against the worst of my pain there.

"It's not broken, I don't think, but you should get it X-rayed just in
case."

"Maybe," I croaked, eyeing the reddish spot on the underside of his

jaw. He was going to have a nasty bruise. "You think I broke your
jaw?"

He stood in one smooth action, drawing me up easily with him; his

eyes lit by inner candles as he stared down at me. His hands were
warm and around my upper arms; he still didn't want to release me,
not that I minded anymore.

"Not even close, although you gave it a damn good try."

Even though I had the worst urge to step into him, to lean against his
chest again and feel his comforting arms wrapped around me again,
nerves got the better of me. I looked away and took a step back,
forcing him to release me, mourning the loss of contact immediately.

And nerves got him too, I saw; he pushed his hand into the waves on
top of his head, combing through the mop restlessly as he studied
the space behind me.

"Do you have any tea and honey?" he asked.

I walked over to the cabinet with my coffee and tea supplies, then
took down two mugs and filled them with water.

Edward was close behind me then. "I'll take it from here," he

murmured, and I could feel his warm breath against my bare
shoulder. "Go get cleaned up."

With a shy look back at him, I retreated into my bathroom. My steps

were sure and light, but it felt as if I was walking through a different
place on the way there, even though it was my apartment. The
cream and brown braided afghan I'd bought at a craft show years
ago was still draped across my old burgundy suede couch; various
photos of Mom and Dad and me still hung on the wall above the little
end table; there was still too much dust on top of the TV console;
and, my shoes still littered the floor just inside the front door.

But the girl in the bathroom mirror was new. So was the man in my
kitchen.

And I wondered what was to become of us.

AN: I've created a Group on Facebook called Powered by 23 Kicks

Fanfiction if you'd like to join. Come discuss how stubborn Bella is,
and how mean Edward used to be!
Chapter 15
Edward's story.

Please be advised

this chapter comes

with a TRIGGER WARNING

for suicide.

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

and Paige and Aileen, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 15

The night felt as if it belonged in a fairy tale. The dragon- me -had

been let loose to do my worst, and was heroically calmed by an
enemy who no longer meant me harm. The pain and anger that had
ruled me so intensely over the last few months was only a
smoldering ember now, and the one who had caused it all, was the
balm. It was unaccountably confusing, yet at the same time, it
wasn't.

Because Edward had heard me, and he hadn't broken. He'd taken
every bit of my hatred and anger, and he'd apologized .

I remembered his eyes, stripped bare in sorrow and agony, feeling

what I felt. With me every step of the way. And then he'd caught
me… snatched me back from the abyss he'd once helped cast me
into. It humbled and awed me, and still had me reeling. I hadn't
known, couldn't have even suspected, that my heart could shift this
way so dramatically.

He was waiting for me.

With light steps, I left the bathroom with one arm wrapped
protectively around my middle. Even though I knew it was safe now,
my newly shifted heart was still sore. And, I still felt a little self-
conscious.

Edward was leaning against the end of the kitchen counter, one
ankle casually crossed over the other. His gaze was still impossibly
gentle, and I felt it like a caress against my skin. Those eyes of his
twisted something in my chest, stealing my breath. It seemed as if
the intimacy of this night, of our shared pain, was still cradling us in
its arms.

He handed me a cup of tea, then reached for my free hand as if it

was nothing, his fingers warm and strong around mine. And I let him,
because I wanted his touch. Even after sitting, we didn't let go; I
guessed because after everything, after my breakdown and after his,
neither of us seemed to be able to be apart.

Silent, our eyes met bravely, until I ran out of bravery and dropped
mine to our clasped hands. His wrist was perched on top of my bare
knee, and his thumb was lightly brushing the skin on the back of my
hand.
We both seemed unwilling to break the silence, to ruin this tender
moment I found myself inhaling like a drug.

The long moments of gentle peace began to grow shorter the longer
we sat there, as reality began to encroach again. It made me sad,
because I didn't want to talk anymore; but I also didn't want to lose
these new feelings for him, or say goodbye to him yet. This budding
truce was everything I'd needed and I wanted to protect and hold it
close, because things tended to change with the light of day.

"You were so brave," he murmured, breaking the silence. He

squeezed my hand, drawing my gaze back to him. "But you were
always brave when it came to dealing with me. Thank you. For telling
me. It was… everything I needed to hear."

I took a sip of the tea he'd made; it was laced liberally with honey,
and coated my itchy throat.

"Sorry I got so emotional," I whispered with an apologetic look.

"No, don't apologize. And don't talk." One of his fingers stroked the
skin on the outside of my throat, and I arched my neck like a cat,
giving him better access. "No more talking."

He leaned forward and pressed the heat of his palm against my

neck, his thumb skirting the bottom of my chin. With a ragged sigh,
his eyes fell to my lips.

Immediate heat shot through my body. Did he… did he want to kiss
me?

"I can't stop touching you," he whispered, confusion on his face.

Reeling, but trying to go with it, I smiled slightly at him. He was still
so close, almost within kissing distance, and my temperature
continued to rise as I stared into his uncertain gaze. Then, I tapped
my fingers against the wrist of the hand I still held, reminding him it
was the same for me.
It might not be this way between us tomorrow, but it felt right… for
now.

With a heavy exhale, he sat back, taking the warmth of his hand
away from my throat. But his fingers tightened around my wrist, his
thumb pressing against my erratic pulse there.

"I'm all mixed up inside right now," he said, his eyes fixated on my
mouth again… making it clear what he meant. "Because of what we
just went through, I'm feeling close to you. It… feels like we just
survived a war together."

I nodded and held his gaze, trying to express with my eyes that I
understood exactly what he meant. My body felt as though it had
been through a phase of hell, but the process had been cathartic,
and had given me a new perspective. And now I felt as if I was going
through a glory hallelujah, I'm alive and I think I like you phase .
Seeing his confusion, I had a pressing urge to cup his cheek, to run
the pads of my fingers along that sharp jaw… to press a kiss to the
underside where it was beginning to bruise.

My eyes followed the path of his broad shoulders down to his wrists.
He'd rolled the sleeves of his shirt up slightly, and I saw light-colored
hair on the backs of his strong forearms. Very masculine looking.

I wanted those arms to hold me again.

But that was wrong. We weren't… that . And we couldn't be.

The gentle push and pull of tension between us flared as I met his
eyes again, lessening only when I looked away. He had nice hands-
broad palms, long fingers, clean, perfectly square nails. Capable
looking, especially since my hand in his looked so small and
delicate.

I felt the fan of air across my skin as he sighed, and hoped he didn't
notice the goosebumps that rose in response. A fruitless hope, I saw,
when his thumb swept across them, soothing me.
Then, he cleared his throat and spoke, his voice low. "You never
asked why I was such an asshole to you, why I treated you that
way."

The look on his face was one of shame. Almost of despair. As if pain
was eating him alive deep inside.

"You never asked why," he repeated in a whisper, his grip tightening

around my hand, shaking it a little. "Not that there's justification
enough for doing what I did to you… but, if you're interested, I'd like
to help you understand."

Brows knitted, he studied my face, waiting for my response.

Wondering why he had been the way he was had always been at the
back of my mind. Until discussions with Seth and Alice, until growing
closer to Edward, had made me a little fearful of learning the reason.
Because the pure hatred he projected on me had to have been
eating at him… had to have been driving his actions. And it had to
have come from somewhere .

Was I strong enough to hear the reason why? Was I a big enough
person to sit through an explanation without wanting to judge or
shame him?

I inhaled shakily, swallowed, and gave him a little nod.

Yes, I want to hear.

Edward nodded once, slow and decisive, before his own eyes
dropped to our clasped hands. As he spoke, he began clenching and
unclenching his hand around mine in time to his words, something I
was sure he didn't realize he was doing.

"As you said, I was privileged when it came to money… but that's
where it ended," he said dryly. "From the time I was old enough to
learn what money was, my father dangled it over my head like a
carrot, as if that was the only thing I could care about. I grew up
hearing that I'd never get a dime of any of it if I embarrassed him, or
if I didn't make him proud; if I didn't make the honor roll at school; if I
didn't hit a home run; if I didn't get a baseball scholarship. ' You little
shit, you have to try a hell of a lot harder than that to make me
proud, ' he'd say after every one of my games, after every report
card. And, ' I'd rather give it all to the Sunland Golf Club before
leaving it to you, you inept ingrate .' By the time I was eight or so, I'd
come to hate the damn money as much as I hated him."

I imagined a young Edward being viciously, unfairly scolded, while

he stood there with an unhappy look on his face, and my heart
ached for him.

"He liked to mimic the way I talked; he'd repeat my words in this
horrible stutter. When I was younger, I had speech issues… and
used to stutter," Edward said, giving me a quick, apologetic glance
before he winced. "I was in speech therapy for years to get rid of it."

A dart of pain shot through my chest hearing that. Also, one of anger,
because he'd known that humiliation and had knowingly inflicted it on
me .

He carried my hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss there. "I'm so

sorry, Bella," he murmured. "Anyone who appeared unsure of
themselves, or anyone who I heard stuttering, was a trigger for me. I
was an epic bastard."

The sympathy I'd felt for him, for what he'd gone through with his
father, stung when I heard that. Yes, you were an epic bastard. I
curled my fingers, lightly digging my nails into his skin in punishment.

"I know," he breathed. "I deserve that and more."

After a moment, he pressed on. "I was so… angry. All the time. I
started making fun of kids in grade school. But I was too smart about
doing it, and never let any of the teachers catch me. When anyone
complained, it was always my word against theirs… but I was a good
liar." He smiled painfully. "If it was wrong or in bad taste, I knew how
to do it well. In high school, you and Tommy Garth got it the worst
from me because you both happened to have a stutter."

I didn't remember Tommy Garth, but I felt sharp kinship and

sympathy for him. And while I didn't know if I was more relieved or
heartbroken that I hadn't been the only one, I was shocked Edward
had begun his bullying career so young .

"I was told by my psychiatrist that it was a learned behavior."

I shook my head at his psychiatrist's analysis. Cop out. "Asshole," I

mouthed at him, my nails digging.

" Yes," Edward admitted with a frown, the veins in his forehead
suddenly prominent. "I was that and worse, acting out what had
been acted out on me at home. I was blind with rage at absolutely
everyone ."

He raised the cup of tea to his mouth, and I saw that it shook.

"When I was six, my mother had another child. Anthony was the
antithesis of me. Soft-spoken, quiet, emotionally strong. I never… I
never saw my father or his actions get to him like he got to me.
Although, my father sure as hell tried. Being an asshole was a
default setting for him. I don't think he liked anyone, but out of
everyone, Anthony came the closest."

Edward's face morphed from pain to gentleness as he spoke about

Anthony, and I could tell he admired his brother. That despite being
the younger one, Edward looked up to him. But I was nervous,
because Edward was nervous.

"My father tolerated him because Anthony was good at everything,

and he never fought back. He'd just… hunker down and take the
beatings and the abuse, then do what Father expected of him. Not at
all like me… I was a hellion with my father, because fuck him. He
was obviously going to do his worst no matter how we behaved.
Anthony used to beg me to shut up, ' Edward, please, just shut up
and do what Father wants,' he'd say over and over, so I wouldn't get
beaten so badly. But I couldn't be like him," Edward almost
whispered, his tone one of reverence, then of despair. "And we both
paid the price."

Moving both hands to the one of his I held, I squeezed. Edward's

eyes returned to mine, and I gave him a look as pain-free as I could
manage.

"Anthony was a straight-A student, and when he was older, into

soccer. He was usually the MVP of his soccer team, too. He was
naturally gifted; he could actually bend a ball like David Beckham.
He was amazing to watch. My father used to brag about him to his
cronies. ' Yeah, my younger son is on the scholarship track, ' he'd
say as if I was lacking." Edward laughed harshly. "And I was,
because I wasn't very good at baseball. Or soccer, basketball, or
football. There was no chance I'd win a sports scholarship. My
grades were good enough to get a small scholarship, but that wasn't
prestigious enough for Wallace Thomas Cullen. So, for a while, I
even resented Anthony," he whispered with pain etched on his face.

How horrible to be torn into two over the brother you loved and
admired, I thought. But why did talking about Anthony make him
sad?

"At home, we all-my mother, Anthony, and I-had to be on our best

behavior when Father was around. No talking unless we were asked
a question, no horsing around, and definitely, no disrespecting him.
Of course, what we thought was my best behavior seemed to differ,"
Edward said with a bitter-looking, downward twist of his mouth. "At
the dinner table, Father used to kick the rungs of my chair until I sat
up straight enough. One time, the chair broke, and he got so mad
that he kicked me . He was a big man, and he didn't hold back. I
think I was eight at the time."

I fought to keep my expression neutral. To not give in and cry for the
scared, abused boy he once was. To not ask where his mom was in
all of that horror. But it was as if he heard my unspoken question.
"My mother was as much of a victim as we were. Worse, she drank.
She was usually drunk by dinnertime. She's probably drunk right
now," he said derogatorily, his face severe. "She's still with him
because she's holding out for the money. The last time I saw her,
she was drinking half a bottle of Beluga a day. She'll probably be
dead before him, and it would serve her right."

His tone was cold and impersonal, as if his mother was a stranger…
and I realized Edward had grown up with two monsters for parents.
While I didn't condone his behavior against me, or against the rest of
his victims, I understood the reasons for his rage. He'd essentially
been screaming out for help, and no one had noticed.

My hands tightened around his again, drawing his distant gaze back
to mine. His brows were furrowed, his beautiful eyes bleak and
clouded with remembered pain. And then, he seemed to age before
me; his expression fell and his shoulders slumped. The hand he had
clasped around mine began to squeeze me, tighter and tighter, until I
almost couldn't take it.

"My first year in college, I came home for Thanksgiving," he said in

an even, deadened tone. "Father required it, and I was still under his
thumb at the time. But I also wanted to see Anthony; we took turns
holding each other together, and with me gone, he'd been the sole
object of my father's attention. He never said what he went through;
it wasn't his way, but I could tell by what he hadn't said that it was
bad."

Edward's breath and words began to shake. The hand holding mine
practically vibrated, and my heart began to race.

"I heard my father yelling as soon as I got inside the house. ' You
lying piece of shit! You've been lying to me all along, faking and
pretending, haven't you?' "

Then, his words began bleeding into each other because he was
talking so fast.
"' So help me God, if you live through this, I'm going to make you so
fucking sorry. You think you're going to die in my office? Little fucking
ingrate! ' And I began running because I thought he was beating
Anthony again, and I was going to stop him this time. I'd been
working out; I was stronger than him by then, and I was going to
make him sorry, so fucking sorry," Edward gritted, his voice deep,
lethal sounding. "And I-and I came around the corner into his study,
and didn't know what I was seeing at first."

Edward's gaze was far away and on some remembered trauma with
Anthony and his father, his agony palpable. I was stiff all over in
distress for him, for whatever he was going to say next.

"It looked like they were dancing . Like my father had picked Anthony
up and was twirling with him," he whispered. "But then I-I realized
Anthony was hanging from one of the ceiling beams and my father
was grasping at his thighs. And I thought he'd told Anthony to hang
himself as some sort of show of allegiance, because that's just the
sort of sick thing he'd do, but then Father saw me. ' Help me get him
down, ' he roared. ' The fucking idiot is trying to kill himself! ' But
Anthony's head-his head," he choked, "is sideways. He's purple. And
I know he's dead. He's gone, my brother is gone."

I was holding on to him as tightly as he was me at that point, and

God knew what look was on my face, because I was horrified.

"But my father keeps berating him like he's still alive and listening.
So I punched him. I hit him so hard that I broke his nose. But I don't
stop there. When he falls to his knees, I kick him right in the groin
like he used to do to us. And I keep on kicking him until I can't see
anymore and I fall beside him," he gritted. "And all the while,
Anthony is just swinging there… dead!"

I blinked away the tears in my eyes, because I had to be strong for

Edward like he was for me. And I tried to pull him into my arms, but
he resisted me, and I realized he wasn't there with me; he was
trapped in that other moment.
"Anthony had internalized all that pain and anger, and it had eaten
him alive. So much so that he'd-that he'd killed himself. And not in
his room. No, he'd done it in Father's office to make a statement."

He shook his head as if still in disbelief that it had happened, his

eyes squeezed tightly shut, bending forward over our hands.

"That's when I knew," he whispered harshly. "I finally knew how

much my father had damaged us. And it terrified me. Broke me. I'd
lost my brother, my best friend, the only person who'd meant shit to
me, because I hadn't been strong enough to break us out of my
father's destructive pattern."

Edward straightened, and his face was white, his eyes agonized and
glistening with tears.

"Anthony was thirteen at the time. Only thirteen."

I gasped and bit my lip, unable to keep the tears in my eyes from
overflowing anymore. Edward lifted a shaking hand to follow the trail,
as if he welcomed the distraction. He ignored the tears that ran down
his own face.

"I failed Anthony in so many ways," he told me in a shamed manner,

as if he was confessing to a priest. "We should have gotten help. I
should have gotten him help."

"Your mother," I whispered brokenly, unable to remain silent. " She

failed you. She should have fought for her children, for both you and
Anthony!"

He smiled sadly, his thumb wiping at my other cheek.

"My mother is a drunken ghost. Incapable of staying in the present.

I've tried many times to reach her, but she is too damaged. Too far
gone."
In answer, I brought the hand I still held to my lips, pressing a hard
kiss against his palm. He stared at me as if I was… some kind of
angel, and it hurt. I wanted to tell him not to look at me that way, but
he was talking again.

"I… wasn't the same after that. I… knew I had to deal with my anger.
So I got help. I learned about the cycle of bullying, about how it can
affect you. Destroy you. I also learned about the damage you can do
to others," he said, swallowing hard. "I went through a five-step
program that took years. And I wanted to kill myself, too, for all the
hurt I'd caused to so many… for all the ways I'd so obviously failed."

He was still caressing my face, still soothing away my tears, still

looking at me in a way that caused my heart to turn over in my chest.
And I could feel that I was looking at him in the same way, because
how could I not? Ever since I'd pulled myself up out of his lap, we'd
been a mirror of each other's emotions.

"With the help of my therapist, I confronted my past. Deconstructed it

in order to make sense of everything that happened, and why.
Anthony's death… it saved my life," he breathed, and more tears
coursed down his face. Mine, too, because it was utterly
heartbreaking and tragic that had been the impetus for Edward to
seek help.

"I wrote apology letters to my victims," he said, tears trailing down to

his lips. "To you. "

Then, he cupped my cheek, holding me in his palm. "My past, how I

hurt others, how I hurt you, is something I have to live with.
Something I have to forgive myself for every day. It will always be an
ongoing process, and I'm okay with that. I'm okay with showing you
how truly sorry I am every day. For however long I know you, Bella,"
he said simply, with his heart in his eyes.

As declarations of apologies went, it was the most powerful one I'd

ever heard. He'd already said he was sorry many times-something
my heart, my soul had heard-but I was hearing it this time with my
head.

Could I ever forgive him?

I searched for my own pain and anger. The memories were still
there; they still hurt, but they lacked the lick of fire and hate that
usually accompanied them. Because now that Edward had shared
his story with me, I had reason, context, and understanding.

The rope that had tethered me to all my anguish was no longer

choking me.

"Edward," I whispered, and his eyes flickered up to mine, then

sharpened. His mouth opened.

"You said my name," he murmured, and in his voice was the sound
of wonderment.

I nodded and took a breath. This was important. Important enough to

address him by his name.

"Edward," I whispered again, and raised my hand to his cheek, and

we were both holding each other close enough to kiss. " I forgive
you."

For a moment, he looked stunned, overwhelmed. Then, his face

began to collapse.

"You forgive me?" he whispered brokenly.

I pulled him into my arms, and he came readily, as if he was a child

needing comfort. He convulsed once, his face pressed tightly against
my chest. As he'd done for me, I tightened my arms around him,
trying to hold him together as he released his own tears of
absolution. Bent over and around me, his weight pushed me back,
and back a bit more, until I was nearly prone on the sofa. I let him
come, his body shaking against mine, just trying to hold on.
He didn't stay broken for long; not like I had. From what he'd told me,
I knew Edward had broken and pulled himself back together a long
time ago, and that this- my apology -was extra closure for him. But
he'd also wanted it passionately, and getting it seemed as though it
mattered a great deal to him. Maybe as much as it felt to me to
finally forgive him.

I'd thought it would be difficult; I'd thought I would have been kicking
and dragging my feet about forgiving him; but feeling it, saying it, had
been almost effortless. Somewhere in between the time I'd fallen to
the floor in front of him and climbed out of his lap, I'd released my
grip on all the pain. Holding it close had done me no good, and I
knew that now.

And it felt good, forgiving him. It felt good wrapping my arms around
him, holding him close; it felt right . Although nothing made the act of
bullying acceptable, Edward had suffered, too. Even more than I
had.

When eventually, he pulled back, he gave me a gorgeously sheepish

smile, tugging me by my forearms up into a sitting position. His
hands moved down to my wrists, to my hands, where he released
me gently. Then with a heavy sigh, he rubbed the heels of his palms
against his eyes.

"Fuck," he said.

And then we were laughing. Laughing through our tears. Broken by

and rebuilt by each other. Stronger for having gone through the pain.
Stronger for being brave enough to share it, to go through it together.

After the laughter died, our smiles persisted. We leaned back against
the couch, facing each other, simply looking at each other. Our
shared traumas had broken down all the walls. There was no hiding.
No need to hide. We'd already bared our worst truths.

"Say my name again," he requested softly.

I complied readily in a somewhat scratchy tone of voice. "Edward."

As if it was the most beautiful sound ever, he rewarded me with one

of his breath-stealing smiles.

"Edward Cullen," I said gently, "it turns out that you are a very nice
guy."

Where did we go after that?

To my kitchen. I had all the ingredients for a swiss cheese and

mushroom omelet. We made toast and coffee also, bouncing off
each other in my little kitchen like balls in a pinball machine and
laughing, then we sat at my bistro table on the porch and ate it all.

"To a new beginning," I said, and raised my cup of coffee.

"To you," he said, and I shook my head at him.

He left just after five a.m., after we hugged lingeringly at my front

door. We were slow to part, slow to let go of our newfound intimacy.

Slow to say goodbye to who we were to each other at that moment.

A/N: I have a Group on Facebook called Powered by 23 Kicks

Fanfiction where I've been sharing EPOV snippets. Come join it if
you want to see!
Chapter 16
So we could be friends

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

and Paige and Aileen, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 16

The school parking lot was nearly empty when I arrived, but I noticed
Edward Cullen's vehicle in its usual spot in the back row.

Figured he'd be on time. He was probably already seated at our

table with his don't look at me, don't talk to me body language firmly
in place, scowling, his eyes spewing hate.

Not that I should know that, because he didn't like me staring at him,
but I was a master of the side-glance. And he usually always had a
scowl on his face.

I pulled into a spot near the front of the building, and my truck
backfired loudly as I turned off the ignition. I winced, but there was
no one around to notice.

Where was everyone? It was almost time for the first bell, which
meant a lot of people were going to be late. The weather was cold,
but clear for November, so that couldn't account for the nearly empty
lot. There weren't any teacher conferences, either, and Thanksgiving
was still a few weeks away.

I made my way across the parking lot, hearing the whip of the flag
mounted on its post as the wind blew it back and forth. It was at half-
mast.

Crap, had someone died? Was there some sort of holiday I'd
forgotten? Had they called off school for some reason?

When I got to the entrance doors, I almost expected them to be

locked, but they opened easily. I stepped inside out of the cold like
walking into a vacuum of heat, my hair blowing forward and blinding
me until the doors banged closed again.

There was no one in the hallway, and it was eerily silent.

I walked quickly to my locker, my sneakers squinch-squinch-

squinching across the floor.

Maybe it was nerves, but my combination wasn't working, and I was

beginning to panic when someone's locker door slammed closed
behind me. I jumped and spun around, but no one was there.

" Hello?" I asked, and cringed as my voice echoed.

Something was off. Something didn't feel right.

With renewed fervor, I turned back to my locker and forced the dial.
This time, it opened. I stowed my English lit book inside, then
grabbed my biology and pre-calculus books. Gently, quietly, I pushed
the door closed again.

Then I was squinching down the hallway again, faster this time.

Two minutes away from the first bell, I rushed into biology, stopping
abruptly just inside the door. I cradled my books against my chest
tightly as I eyed the room. Except for Edward, it was empty.
No way.

His head rose from the book he was reading, registering me with his
usual glare before dismissing me.

" Are you just going to stand there?" he asked after I didn't move.

" Maybe," I said… and stood there rebelliously for a few more
moments.

There was an odd hush in the air, as if the entire building was
holding its breath. It made me conscious that I was holding my own.
Was I in the Twilight Zone? Was I being punked?

But Edward was there; surely, no one would dare punk him.

" Where… where is everyone?" I dared to ask, taking care not to

stutter.

" Hell if I know," he answered shortly.

Reluctantly, because I didn't exactly want to be alone with Edward, I

made my way back to the table, casting my gaze behind me as if
someone else was going to appear magically.

No one did.

I placed my books on the table, and then, instead of pulling my chair

back, I lifted it so it wouldn't screech across the floor. Beside me,
Edward chuckled darkly, and it was such a surprising sound coming
from him that I broke the rule and stared at him as I sat.

A tiny crinkle appeared on his forehead as he scowled down at his

book, his dark eyebrows low over his eyes. His upper lip and jaw
were lightly shaded with blond whiskers, giving him a rakish look.
And of course, he was beautiful, even with what looked like dried
tear tracks on his cheeks.

I gaped, doing a double take.

" I can feel you staring at me," he gritted, and I turned my head
away.

Should I… should I tell him he looked like he'd been crying? I mean,
wouldn't he want to know something like that?

The bell rang, startling me so badly that I yelped and jumped.

Edward sighed and lifted his head, and I couldn't help myself and
turned to meet his eyes. Expecting to see his death stare, instead I
found sadness and something that looked like agony.

" You're a fucking mess," he told me in his usual biting tone, but it
didn't match his stare. Didn't match with how his eyes filled with tears
as we looked at each other.

" Eh-Edward? Are you… okay?"

Tears ran unchecked down his face. "You shouldn't ask me that," he
whispered, and spun away from me, showing me his back. "Fuck off,
leave me alone."

My mouth opened and closed like a fish. It didn't make sense, how
he looked, and what he was saying. Something was very wrong.

The words came unbidden. "What's wrong?"

" Why the fuck do you care?"

" I just do. What's wrong?"

As he turned back to face me, Young Edward morphed into Older

Edward, the anguished look on his face turning into one of weary
relief.

" No one's ever asked me that before," he said.

I gasped and opened my eyes, heart hammering in my chest.

It was a dream. Just a dream.

But I was on the edge of tears, and there was tightness in my throat.
I sat up, my hand rising to my neck to cup it.

Had anyone ever asked Young Edward if he'd been all right?

I bowed my head over my knees, because I knew… I somehow

knew no one ever had. But I also knew it had partly been his own
fault, because he'd been so damn volatile all the time. If only he'd
have taken a chance and let down his guard, talked to someone,
even to me, we might have been friends instead of enemies. And
God, he'd needed a friend…

Looking over at the clock, I saw it was almost six a.m.

But in my mind, I kept seeing the last image of Edward's face-

anguished, weary, with tear-filled eyes-and I was racked with guilt
that I hadn't noticed something was wrong with him back then. Even
though I knew what I was feeling was misplaced, even though I knew
if I had noticed something was wrong, he would never have been
receptive to me. In our real past life, Edward would have bitten my
head off if I'd asked him if he was okay. In real life, he'd have never
cried a tear in front of me. Or anyone, probably. So it was pointless
trying to imagine otherwise.

Shake it off, I told myself. He's come through all of that. He survived.

It was only because of my new relationship with him that this feeling
of guilt persisted. Our closeness was opening the door for feelings I
wasn't used to having about him, especially in light of what he'd
shared. But dreams were funny things, in that they didn't have to
make sense to affect my mood. My instinct was to go to Edward and
beg him to forgive me, which I knew was crazy.

It was crazy.
Nervous energy had me springing out of bed as if I was bursting out
of a rabbit hole. I moved over to the sliding patio doors and brushed
the curtain aside. Above the tall buildings in the distance, the sky
was changing from indigo to a lighter blue, with hints of orange and
pink peeking through the branches of the trees below. Only a few
cars were driving down the street, and someone was jogging on the
sidewalk.

That was what I needed: a workout. It would help settle my mind and
my jangling limbs that wouldn't still. It was hours yet before I had to
be at work… which presented a whole new set of worries. Just the
thought of seeing Edward had my stomach knotting into anxious
anticipation.

I moved to my bathroom's walk-in closet, where I grabbed my one

piece swimsuit off its peg. I pulled it on, then shrugged into a thigh-
length terry cloth robe. Stuffing my hair under the swim cap was a
workout in and of itself.

Instead of taking the elevator, I ran down the stairs to the basement,
where the underground pool was located. It was a perk I paid forty
extra dollars a month for, but rarely took advantage of, for some
reason. This morning, I needed its meditative peace badly.

Larry, the lifeguard on duty, was already perched on the short

platform. He lifted his head from his newspaper and waved hello to
me.

"It's been a while since you've been down here," he called. "Where
have you been?"

Retired early from his job as a truck engineer, divorced, and with two
kids who were always too busy to come see him, he served as the
morning lifeguard three times a week. He was a sweet man but a
huge talker and over-sharer, so I'd learned to keep my replies short,
and to walk fast.

"Hi, Larry," I called back. "Just been busy."

There was another person doing laps at the fast end of the pool. I
decided to choose a lane at the far side, away from Larry and the
overachiever swimmer. Shrugging off my robe, I left it hanging on a
wall hook. Then, pulling my water goggles down over my eyes, I
walked to the edge of the pool and hopped lightly into the
mesmerizing blue expanse of water. It wasn't heated, and I gasped
at its bite of cold against my skin, before propelling myself forward
and under. I kicked my feet furiously, swimming freestyle and with
wide arms before I finally had to come up for air. My lungs were out
of practice, as I wasn't even halfway across the pool. By the time I
reached the other end, my limbs were starting to loosen up, but my
flip turn was damn sloppy.

Move your ass, girl.

The kinetic water created snake-like streaks of white lighting on the

bottom of the floor as I sliced through it in a front crawl. I was getting
warmed up now, my muscles lengthening as I aimed myself at the
far wall. Left arm, right arm, breathe, and keep kicking.

Feelings of misplaced guilt aside, I was in a good mood. I felt light

and almost carefree, and knew it was because of Edward. Because
my anger with him had dissolved. Because he had trusted me with
his own story. Because everything between us had changed. We
had changed for each other, and with each other, and it was bound
to make a difference in our interactions.

And I couldn't help wondering how.

After he'd left yesterday morning, I had forced myself to stay up so

my sleep pattern wouldn't be disrupted. Embarrassed about my dirty,
sloppy apartment, I'd spent most of the day cleaning… while
replaying our words and actions.

Like how Edward had stared at my mouth and admitted he was

confused about his feelings for me. Simply remembering it sent a
thrill through my body. I'd wondered before if he was attracted to me,
but having it confirmed also made me uneasy. Wasn't it weird-
unnatural even-for him to have romantic thoughts about someone he
used to terrorize?

Wasn't it weirder still to have reciprocating thoughts about someone

who'd once bullied me? Never mind he was my boss now; he used
to humiliate me deliberately. What would Freud say about that?

I was freaking out a little because after having kept him at arm's
length for so long, being away from him now made me miss him.
Like a junkie, I was craving that closeness with him again. That
bone-deep connection that had alleviated so much pain, replacing it
with warmth and tenderness as he'd stared at me… making my heart
beat insanely out of control. I'd never felt anything so overwhelming,
so powerful. Not even in my early relationship with Paul-who'd been
my boyfriend first before he'd been a fuck buddy-had anything I felt
then come close to what I was feeling for Edward now.

We'd been so horrible to each other in the past. Had hated each
other with a passion. Now it felt like that passion had transcended
hatred into something even more powerful. Something that made me
miss a person I'd seen only hours ago-someone whose stare could
calm me, at the same time it did funny things to my chest. It was like
that adage about there being a thin line between love and hate, but I
never would have thought it applied to my own situation.

It isn't love, I told myself.

It was something close, though. Infatuation based on a shared

traumatic experience, maybe.

Whatever it was, it made me want to hear the sound of Edward's low

voice close against my ear again. Made me want to feel his hard
chest under the palms of my hands. Made me want to run my thumb
across the divot in his lower lip.

It made me want him not to be confused anymore, and that terrified

me.
I knew it was too soon to act on these feelings, if they even lasted.
With a twinge of unease, I wondered again if maybe our emotional
interactions had simply over-stimulated or affected me, and that was
why I was feeling the way I was. Could it be that I was simply
mistaking feelings of a new friendship, which had been forged in high
drama, for something more?

I didn't think I'd know until I saw Edward again, and that was the
scary part.

My overactive imagination and worries propelled me through five

more laps before I'd had enough and climbed out of the pool. Larry
noticed and hopped off the platform, so I quickened my steps. I
grabbed and pulled on my robe, then was out the door before I'd
removed the swim goggles from my eyes.

I'm sorry, but I don't feel like listening to you today, Larry. My mind is
already bursting at the seams.

Later, giddy and ridiculous, I dressed with care for work in a high-
waisted, blue plaid miniskirt and a white ruffled collar blouse. It was a
feminine business look, yet subtly sexy. With my hair pulled back into
a low bun, I thought I looked like a librarian or a school teacher. All I
needed was a pair of eyeglasses.

Before I left, I lifted the throw pillow Edward had been sitting against
to my nose, inhaling deeply. For the fifth time? The sixth?

It still smelled like him.

Psycho, I called myself.

I found myself looking for Edward in the crowd of people as soon as I

entered the building, but he wasn't among any of the men I saw. Of
course, he usually arrived before I did. It was purely a fluke that day
we'd arrived at the same time… that day I'd thanked him for
smoothing the way with Riley.
I smiled at the memory; even then, he'd been looking out for me.

When I stepped foot inside Smith and Devaney, my gaze darted right
to Edward's office. The light was on, but it was empty .

"Good morning, Bella," Jessica said. As the company's receptionist,

her desk was located just inside the glass doors, and my one-track
eyes had skipped right over her.

"Oh, hi, Jessica. How are you?"

Jessica launched into details about her Saturday night date with her
boyfriend, and I paused in front of her with a polite smile. Moments
later, I caught sight of a dark gray business suit out of the corner of
my eye. The way my hair stood up all over my body screamed that it
was Edward.

Jessica noticed him a second after my body's response did, and

stopped mid-word.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said, his voice low and apologetic.

He was right beside me, and then he reached out an arm and placed
his hand on top of Jessica's desk, close enough that the sleeve of
his suit brushed against my arm. Every drop of blood in my body
ignited.

"Would you please show Johnathon Tate into the conference room
when he arrives at nine-thirty?"

He could have called Jessica on the phone. Or sent a Teams

message. Or spoken to her from a few feet away, but he'd moved in
close beside me instead.

I turned my head slightly and found a pair of eyes almost as heavily

lashed as mine were. They were gorgeous, soft, and light grayish-
green today. Coupled with his gentle smile, I went lightheaded at his
nearness.
"Hi, Bella," he said, withdrawing his arm, careful not to brush against
me again. Unfortunately. Or maybe fortunately, considering I was
already suffering from tactile overload.

A couple of beats passed.

"Good morning, Edward," I said, and my damn voice, which was still
a bit hoarse and noticeably breathless.

Edward's smile widened, then he retreated quickly, so quickly he

missed my answering smile.

"Yeah, he has that effect on me, too," Jessica said with a sigh.

I straightened with a jerk, nodding my head like a marionette. Then I

shook it back and forth, giving Jessica a look like she was crazy.

"He's my boss," I said, reminding myself as much as her.

"I know," she purred, setting her chin into the palm of her hand. "Is
he a good one?"

"He's a good boss," I told her firmly and retreated.

The office was buzzing with voices and people hurrying to their
desks as I walked to my own.

Get it together, I scolded myself.

"Hi, Bella," Ben said as I approached. "How was your weekend?"

Explosive. Emotional. Heartbreaking, yet kind of hot.

"It was good, thanks," I answered with a smile.

"Hey, do you want to grab lunch with me today? It's been a while," he
added when he saw my hesitation. "Time for us to catch up."
I nodded. "Okay, sure. Twelve-thirty?"

"See you then," he replied with his signature wink.

"Morning, Bella," Alice said, as I stowed my purse in the bottom

drawer of my desk. "How was your weekend?"

It was Monday morning's recurring theme.

I repeated what I'd told Ben. "It was good."

Alice squinted her eyes at me, and I remembered with dread that
she disliked trite statements.

"Good? Good how?"

I paused.

Well, I had a talk with Edward on Saturday night that changed my

life.

But I found myself not wanting to share that with her. At least not yet,
and maybe not for a while. It was still too tender, too private. Right
now, I wanted to keep it between Edward and me.

"I caught up with my friend Rose, introduced her to Emmett Saturday

night when we ran into him-I think they hit it off, by the way-and had
a good workout this morning. The endorphins are flowing," I told her.
"How about you?"

She told me that she and Jasper had gone to some restaurant
downtown, and that it was expensive but life-changing, which I
thought was odd and amusing, considering my own thoughts about
life changing events.

"What's on tap for today?" she wondered.

"Well, this morning, I'm editing content for Lyon and Healy's social
media, and looking for art for their holiday theme," I said as I brought
up my notes from last week. They were harp makers, which they
touted as majestic works of art and sound. As some of the harps
were made of 23+ karat gold, I had to agree.

Sometime later, I grabbed my coffee mug and carried it to the

kitchen. I was at the sink washing it out when the hair on my neck
rose.

"How was the rest of your Sunday?" Edward asked as he leaned

against the counter beside me, arms across his chest, eyes laser-
focused on me.

My gaze dropped to the discolored marks on the bottom of his chin

where I'd hit him, and I cringed internally. What was he telling people
about it? But whoa, that striking face of his… and the soft, wide-open
look in his eyes had me forget what I was doing. Water overfilled my
cup and doused the bottom of my sleeve.

We'd met in the kitchen before, but had never stopped to talk. Well, I
had never stopped to talk to him. Once he entered the kitchen, I
usually left immediately.

"Um, I spent it cleaning," I answered after a moment. "You never

know when someone unexpected might show up. I'd be horribly
embarrassed if anyone saw it the way it was before."

He tilted his head, then turned to tear a paper towel off the roll before
handing it to me. "I think anyone would find it difficult to notice
anything but you while in your apartment, Bella."

I huffed out a surprised laugh. "Oh, nice. Aren't you an unobservant

charmer?"

"I'm very observant, but I was definitely otherwise occupied."

Speechless, I made a face at his smooth reply, then carried my cup

over to the coffee pot. Behind me, I heard a cabinet open and close,
then he was standing beside me again with his own cup. It was as if
there was an invisible tether between us, as if he wanted to be near
me, too, and gentle heat rolled through my body.

After I filled my cup, I turned to his, feeling oddly nurturing.

"Thank you," he said, and it sounded tender. Or maybe it was just

my imagination.

"Will you have dinner with me tonight?"

Well, that wasn't my imagination.

I looked up at him in shock. "Are you really… are you really-"

"As friends," he interrupted. "Friends can have dinner, can't they?"

He actually looked nervous as he waited for my answer, and sorry I'd

caused it, I hastened to ease his worry.

"Yes," I said, and was rewarded by his full stunner of a smile.

And there came the butterflies.

Fuck, that smile should be outlawed.

"Good morning," someone drawled, and I turned to see Tanya,

striking in an emerald silk blouse, standing in the doorway. "Don't
you two look cozy."

How long had she been there? I felt vulnerable, as if my feelings for
Edward were on vivid display. Were we standing too closely to each
other? Fuck, had she heard him ask me to dinner?

"We're just bonding over coffee," I said quickly, and heard Edward
chuckle.

"Good morning, Tanya," he said coolly; then to me, not as cool: "I'll
send you the details."
He'll send me the details.

Heart still pounding with overactive nerves, I stepped to the side and
added creamer and sugar to my coffee. Damn it, my hand was
shaking. I dropped a stir stick into my cup, then with a quick glance
back at Edward, left.

He was still watching me closely, and I felt the power of his gaze like
an electric shock.

Don't look at me that way when Tanya is around, I wanted to tell him.

After that, it was a challenge staying on track with work. For the rest
of the day, really. And after Edward sent a text message to my
phone, my brain took a one-way bus straight to Distractionville.

It's only fair since I've seen your place, you come and see mine. 155
N. Harbor Drive, Unit 2913. It's the Harborpoint Condos near
DuSable Harbor. I make a mean chicken parmesan. How does
seven sound?

Wow. I already knew he could cook, but he lived in a condo

overlooking the lake?

Seven sounds great. I look forward to tasting your mean chicken

parm. Can I bring anything?

I watched the dots dance as he made his reply.

Just you. That's all I need.

Biting my lip, I studied his reply as if it was a cypher to solve. Did he

mean he didn't need anything else, like French bread or wine… or
was he implying that he just needed me?

I tried not to read anything more into it, and went back to my work.

If Lyon and Healy switched to the program I was thinking of for the
new holiday campaign, it would help them track their client data.
It had to be my overactive imagination. I was obviously still feeling
the bond of having bared our souls. It was just the novelty of it all.

I could set up a test account for Lyon and Healy, just to show them
how easy it was.

But he obviously felt that bond, too. It was in his eyes, in his body
language.

Then again, the company wouldn't want me to make it too easy for
Lyon and Healy to use, because they might decide they no longer
needed us. Maybe I shouldn't go that route.

So we could be friends, like he'd said. I… could be friends with the

person who'd once bullied me so viciously. I'm sure stranger things
have happened.

No, my conscience wouldn't allow me to discount the program. I

owed it to Lyon and Healy to share it. They only had a small
customer base, and the program would help them grow.

Unlikely friends who are attracted to each other? That's not going to
be complicated at all. But he needs a friend, because who does he
have now? He lost his brother, his best friend.

That painful thought brought me up short, and had me turning and

glancing toward his office before I knew what I was doing. Who,
besides me, his psychiatrist, and his shitty parents, knew about his
painful past?

Edward had his headset on; I saw his shoulder move as he

gesticulated while talking. Then, as if he felt my gaze, he suddenly
looked my way.

Our eyes held for a long moment, until I forced myself to turn back
around.

He's not alone anymore. I could be a friend.

As unlikely and odd and probably crazy as it was.
Chapter 17
Falling slowly… kinda

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

and Paige and Aileen, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 17

Edward's condo building was a glass and black steel skyscraper

almost double the height of my apartment building. If not for all the
lights in the windows, it might have been invisible against the night
sky.

Fitting, I thought, as I climbed out of the Uber and made my way to

the revolving front door. Tall, sexy, a bit imposing as it overlooked
Millennium and Cascade Parks, yet silent and steadfast against the
wind coming in from Lake Michigan.

The doorman directed me inside to a high-ledged, gray and black

marbled desk. It matched the flooring exactly, making it seem as if it
was floating there.

"Are you here to visit someone, Miss?" asked the attendant behind
the desk, eyeing me closely.

They didn't mess around here.

"Yes. Edward Cullen. Unit 2913," I replied, and the woman began
typing on a keyboard I couldn't see.

Oh wow, was that a grocery store I saw in the far corner?

"Your name, please?"

"Bella Swan."

She nodded once. "Take the elevator on the left to the twenty-ninth
floor. Number thirteen will be on your right."

There was a mirrored wall inside the elevator, and a camera

mounted in the corner. I stared with wide eyes at my reflection,
feeling underdressed, wishing I hadn't changed from my work attire
into jeans and a sweater.

The elevator moved fast . When the doors slid open on the twenty-
ninth floor, my stomach was somewhere around my ankles.
Steadying myself against the edge of the door, I stepped out onto
thickly padded, gray patterned carpeting. Although I was wearing a
pair of Converse, I knew that had I been in heels, the carpet would
have muffled all sound.

To the right.

The wide hallway with its decorative overhead lighting and ornate
crown molding smelled incredible, ineffably rich, and I felt a little out
of place as I made my way to lucky number thirteen. Before I could
lift the polished bronze knocker, the heavy wooden door swung
open… and there was Edward, wearing black jeans and a sage
green sweater that did amazing things for his eyes.

Damn, like he needed any help in that department.

He smiled, then stepped close and pulled me into his arms tightly,
right there where I stood on the welcome mat.
"Bella." He sighed against the top of my head, as if he was relieved I
was there. My arms tightened around his back, my cheek resting
against the soft material that covered his chest. The hug was warm
and solid and unexpected, yet everything I needed at that moment. I
inhaled his scent deeply, finally relaxing; my body remembered his
familiar touch and sank into him.

Friends could hug each other, right? It was only a few days ago that
we'd said goodbye on my doorstep, and we'd hugged then, too.

He released me slowly, moving his hands down my arms until he

reached my own, and the bag I held.

"I told you not to bring anything," he murmured, taking it from me.

"I couldn't show up empty-handed," I said. "It's a bottle of bourbon.

Buffalo Trace."

"Good choice. Thank you," he said.

Not letting go of me, he tugged me inside, staring down at me as if

he almost couldn't believe I was there. I knew exactly how he felt,
too, because I was feeling the same way-as if I might wake up to
discover this was all a dream. Only last Monday, he'd been
deliberately ignoring me.

When things changed, they changed quickly.

Edward set the bottle of bourbon on a chef's window ledge as we

passed the kitchen, then pulled me farther into the room. The cream
and white marbled parquet floor of the hallway entrance gave way to
cherry wood flooring that led my eye to a row of huge, floor-to-ceiling
windows.

I tried not to swallow my tongue as I took in all the wood and glass
and ambient lighting. There was a sprawling, L-shaped couch with
decorative throw pillows, and plush cream area rugs that invited me
to take off my shoes and walk across them. A lone spotlight shone
on an abstract wall painting. It was bracketed by two built-in
bookcases with recessed lighting that highlighted the books and art
within. Music-it sounded like jazz-was playing softly from hidden
speakers. A Steinway piano with a raised top sat in the corner.

Astonished, I shook my head, then turned to find him watching me

closely. There was a lopsided smile on his face as he took in my
expression.

"You play piano?"

"When I'm in the mood," he answered.

"You said I was living in a luxurious building," I breathed. "This is

stunning. And you actually have a grocery store on the first floor," I
told him, as if he didn't already know, and he smiled, bowing his
head.

"I never run out of the essentials, it's true." Then, his voice lowered.
"You look good in my place."

The silence stretched as he stared down at me, as his thumb

continued to stroke the pulse in my wrist. His probing gaze was
scorching me from the inside out, and finally, I looked away, nervous
of what he was looking for.

"How long have you lived here?" I asked, dropping his hand and
wandering over to the windows.

"Almost a year."

The view against the night sky was incredible-a colorful panorama of
gold and white colored lights in buildings as far as I could see,
sprinkled with red and white from Lake Shore traffic below. And
beyond that, tiny lights from the yachts that dotted the smooth, black
surface of the lake. There was so much to look at. The Willis Tower
glowed blue at the top, while lavender lit the side of another building.
Millennium Park's lights were deep green against the grass.
Then, rather surprisingly, I noticed that the windows reflected the
entire apartment behind me. I saw a wide, arched kitchen doorway
that opened into the dining room. There was a round table set for
two, over which floated a dimly lit sunburst chandelier.

And Edward, who was standing a few paces away. My heart jumped
as our eyes met in the window's reflection.

"I've been wanting to share this view with someone," he said quietly.
"As beautiful as it is, it can feel painfully lonely sometimes."

My heart stung at the thought of his loneliness.

I turned and gave him a soft smile. "Well, I'm glad to be here. Thank
you for asking me. I can hardly wait to see what this looks like during
the day. The light you get in here must be incredible."

He looked at me with hooded eyes, a small smile widening his mouth

at my enthusiasm. "Is that your way of asking to stay the night?"

My mouth opened in shock as my face flooded. "No, I-I just meant…"

"Bella, I'm teasing you," he said.

"I might have to rescind the nice guy comment about you," I growled
with a mock glare. "Besides, I'm not sure the secret service below
will let me up again."

"Once security gets familiar with you, you'll be able to come right up,"
he said. "Do you want a glass of wine? Or, the bourbon?"

"I brought the bourbon for you," I said. "But yes, I'll take a glass of
white wine if you have it."

I followed him into the kitchen. It was a contrast of colors with light
brown granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and the
marbled parquet floor. Cherry wood cabinets that matched the living
room flooring were mounted on the walls. A few of the cabinets were
glass-fronted; Edward walked to one above the sink, sliding out two
wine glasses from the rack mounted inside.

"It smells wonderful in here," I said. My stomach was on the edge of

a growl.

"Dinner's all ready. It's in the warmer. I thought we could have a drink
first, though."

"I like the way you think."

I settled on his comfortable couch with my wine glass in hand, and

Edward sat close beside me; there was little more than a foot
between us. For all his confidence while at work, he seemed a little
unsure now, and I longed to reassure him. So I took a breath and
dove.

"What I shared with you Saturday night? I didn't even go that deep
with my own psychiatrist. I think it was because I hit you first," I said
with a heavy sigh. "That punch totally ripped away all my inhibitions.
I'm so sorry."

His fingers rose to his chin, to the little brown marks my knuckles
had left behind. "You took me by surprise, but like I said, I'm pretty
sure I asked for it. I was deliberately pushing you, Bella. While I'm
sorry about that, I'm not sorry about what happened afterward."

Our eyes met and held in understanding.

No, I would never regret the night we'd shared together.

"You were so wonderfully patient with me," I murmured. "Where did

that come from? I mean, considering how awful your upbringing was
when you were shown no patience or care…"

His stare was steady as he replied. "Anthony. It was what I would

have done for Anthony. You fell apart… because of me and how I
treated you. It hurt, hearing your pain, but I would have done
anything to help you deal with it. And I didn't want you to feel alone
in that place where you were."

Tears gathered in my eyes at his answer, something I didn't bother

hiding. He'd already seen me at my worst. "I never did, not for one
second," I breathed.

"I wanted to say thank you for forgiving me," he said, his voice quiet
and sincere. "I know it wasn't easy, and I didn't deserve it, but it
means everything to me."

"Yes, you did deserve it," I told him. "Forgiving you after all we
shared was as easy as breathing. I just wish… I just wish…"

He leaned down to catch my gaze. "You wish what?"

"That I'd have noticed something was wrong with you back in high
school," I choked. "That I'd have seen past your mask of anger. You
needed a friend so badly, Edward. And maybe my father could have
done something, maybe he could have saved-"

"No, Bella, no."

He leaned forward, reaching for the hand not holding a wine glass,
and I slid mine into his willingly. It wasn't uncomfortable at all as he
curled his fingers around me; for some reason, the intimacy we'd
established was still gluing us together. Earlier recriminations aside, I
was still feeling sorry enough about Teenage Edward's friendless
state that my heart actually ached, and my hard grip on him reflected
it.

"I wasn't in a place back then to admit I needed help," he said firmly.
"And you weren't in a place to notice such a thing, because I was
fucking awful to you. Please don't waste any time wishing for
something like that. I don't."

I nodded, blinking away the tears in my eyes. "I'll try. But I had a
dream about Teenage You this morning, and those feelings have
been with me all day. You broke my heart. You were falling apart at
the same time you were telling me to fucking back off, just like you
would have said back then, but I couldn't. I just couldn't."

Edward's thumb swept across the back of my hand soothingly, his

gaze soft. "Dreams are our subconscious talking to us about our
worries and hopes, but they're still just dreams. I love that you
wanted to be there for me when I was such a bastard, but it could
never have happened like you imagine. You understand that, don't
you?"

Yes, but my rational brain travels on a different wavelength than my

damn heart.

"I realize that, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. Especially knowing
now what a monster your father is. I want to throttle Teenage You,
but at the same time, I just want to hug you."

"I wasn't comfortable being touched back then," he murmured. "No

one ever touched me except to give me pain."

Swallowing, I squeezed his hand. "But you're okay with it now. I

mean, obviously."

"I'm okay with you touching me," he admitted quietly.

I bowed my head as tears threatened again. "I don't know why. I've
been so antagonistic toward you, and then… then when I did touch
you, I punched you."

He gave the hand he held a shake. " That was different. I goaded
you into doing it. You're nothing like my father, Bella. I was his victim,
but you were mine. You had every reason to be angry with me, in
whatever form that took."

"All those months I kept you at a distance," I mused sadly. "If only I'd
have given us a chance to talk sooner. I'm really sorry."
He shook his head. "Regrets are a waste of time. There isn't always
a right or a wrong choice in every situation. We make the best
decision we can with the information we have at the time. Everything
happened the way it was supposed to," he said, leaning forward.
"We worked things out and came to an understanding. We're here
now, still talking. It's a success, Bella."

"When you put it that way… okay. It makes sense. Still, regrets may
be a waste of time for you, but I have plenty I obsess over," I told him
quietly.

"Your mother," he murmured with a gentle look as he sat back again,

carrying my hand to his knee. "You feel like you shouldn't have
moved to Forks to be with your father?"

I shrugged and lifted my wine glass to my mouth.

"You know, if you hadn't moved, you wouldn't have the relationship
you have with him today," he told me. "You wouldn't have the job you
do. And you'd still be carrying around anger about me."

Well, fuck.

"And I can't regret any of that," I whispered. "I love the relationship I
have with my dad. Not to mention, I wouldn't be here… with you."

Pieces of my life fast forwarded in my mind-hazy images and

feelings of Mom and Dad, together and then separate; saying a
tearful goodbye to Mom in Phoenix; catching my first fish with Dad;
Edward and that horrible day in the cafeteria; moving away from Dad
to go to college; the loneliness I felt before I'd met Rose; Saturday
night and all of its attendant emotion; then, slowing as I came back
to the moment I was in.

It wasn't all bad. I might have lost Mom, but I found Dad. And Rose
and Alice. And now, I've found Edward.
I could feel my smile was tremulous as I spoke. "I see what you
mean. I also didn't realize how much my anger was dragging me
down until it was gone."

The look in his eyes, as if he cherished me, was melting my heart.

"It's because of you that we're friends now, you know," I told him.

He'd offered me a job, then pursued me, not simply because he'd
wanted me to forgive him, but because he'd wanted us to talk things
through. Because he'd known what that anger had done to Anthony,
and maybe, he'd wanted to save me from feeling anything similar.

I understood all of that now, and was humbled.

"It's also because of you, Bella. I wasn't the only one doing the
talking."

I was suddenly self-conscious. "Talking? I yelled and screamed at

you."

"I'd have been surprised if you hadn't yelled at me," he replied.

I nodded, then dropped my eyes to our hands, where they rested on

the black denim covering his knee. Our fingers were entwined, and
for a moment, I couldn't tell where I began or he began.

"You didn't do anything wrong. You said you hadn't gone that deep
with your own psychiatrist, which tells me that maybe you only
scratched the surface of your pain. That's why you were so angry.
I'm relieved you got it out. Relieved that I was there to hear it."

And fuck, I was teary-eyed again.

"When am I going to stop getting emotional about this?" I huffed,

turning my head away in embarrassment.

"When all your questions are answered," he replied gently. "You can
ask me anything, anytime."
I sniffed. Resettled on the couch, but didn't let go of his hand.

There was something. Something ugly and horrible-and I just had to

know, damn it.

Turning my face back to him, I bit my lip and stared at him fearfully.

His thumb swept across the back of my hand, a feather-light touch.

"Ask me," he said.

Exhaling jaggedly, I whispered my question lightning fast.

"WhatifIwasstillfat?"

"You were never fat," he replied immediately.

"What if I still was?" I choked, because I knew it was awful of me to

ask, but it was something I couldn't help wondering about. "Would
you still have wanted my forgiveness as badly?"

Ashamed, I couldn't look at him then. My weight had been such a

pressing concern back in high school, and he'd turned the knife in
my chest about it more than once; I had felt as if I disgusted him.

Damn it, what if I was still fat?

He took my wineglass from me, setting it with his own on the coffee
table. Then, his fingers wrapped around my other hand and drew me
forward, until his arms were around me, and I was resting against his
chest.

"It's a fair question," he murmured against the top of my head.

"Considering I goaded you about your weight more than once. But,
Bella, you were never fat. Thirty pounds overweight isn't fat. I was
simply looking for any imperfection to hurt you with. Do you know
why?"

He forced my face up, forced me to look at him. If not for the gentle
warmth in his eyes, and the memory of being in this same place with
him a day ago, it would have been confronting.
"Because I was fascinated by your eyes," he said, soft as a kiss.
"They're the color of whiskey, of amber found in the heartwood tree,
of firelight at night. Oh, they used to give me such hell."

I frowned, confused. If he had been interested in me, then why had

he been so awful?

"I was fascinated by you, period," he said as he raised a finger to

caress my cheek. I could feel his breath against my lips, he was so
close. "You didn't react like others did; you talked back, and those
eyes of yours would flash and sting me where I stood. God, I even
saw your eyes in my dreams. It used to make me so angry."

His eyelids lowered, lashes brushing the Slavic arch of his

cheekbones, but his mouth was twisted in pain. "I used your weight
to punish you for being beautiful to me," he whispered in a tone
heavy with shame. "Please forgive me."

I gasped softly in surprise, and he opened his eyes again. The dusky
green in his eyes was filled with sorrow as he looked at me, and my
heart swelled and broke again, because I hurt for him… and for
myself.

He'd been interested in me?

"Will you forgive me for making you doubt yourself that way?" he
asked.

Forgive him? For making me doubt myself?

Fucker.

But he was close, so damn close again. Stealing all my brain cells.

Jesus God, he was good at making apologies.

Breathless, I could only nod.

He studied me closely. "I can see every expression that crosses your
face; I know that confuses you and makes you angry. Bella, I didn't
know the first thing about how to act around a pretty girl I was
interested in, especially one I'd treated so cruelly. But I'd still need
and want your forgiveness, no matter what you weighed. Believe
me," he murmured, then pressed his lips lightly against my cheek.
"Believe me," he said again, this time against the shell of my ear.

I was lost in sensation, spinning, as his hand began rubbing against

my back soothingly. A big part of me wanted to sink into his embrace
and never leave.

"I believe you," I whispered finally. "Bastard."

He chuckled, his hand rising to the back of my head, lightly cupping

me.

"Yes, I was a bastard. A damned bastard who didn't know how to act
around you."

Well, he'd sure figured it out since then, I mused distractedly. He'd
been trying to make a point with me gently, to say he was sorry, and
I'd nearly lost my mind at his sneaky, tactile manipulation. Touch me,
whisper in my ear, and I was mush.

He knew exactly what he was doing now.

Trying to regain my composure, I sat up and pulled away. His grip

tightened at first, but then he let me go. My face was flushed, I could
feel it, but I was relieved to see that he had a little pink on his cheeks
as well. His chest slowly deflated as he exhaled.

It wasn't all one-sided. It wasn't just me feeling this almost

overwhelming attraction.

"Any other questions?" he wondered.

Yes. How did you get this good with women?

I scoffed and pulled at the collar of my sweater. "Honestly, I don't
think I can take any more of your answers right now."

His answering grin was wolfish. "I didn't want my sincerity to be

mistaken."

"Yeah. Well, we should do at least some of our talking from across a

table," I replied. "Sincerity doesn't usually require touching. Besides,
I'm not used to almost kissing former enemies."

"I should hope not," he retorted sardonically with a crooked eyebrow.

"Do you have many, then?"

"Enemies? No! I'm well liked by people," I told him, offended. "Except
Tanya, I guess. She obviously has an ax to grind. She makes me
nervous."

He stood, grabbing our drinks off the coffee table, and I followed him
into the dining room.

"Tanya's behavior is solely due to me and my actions. However,

Colin's making her a job offer this Friday. It comes with a pay
increase, so I'm betting she'll accept. His department is located at
the far end of the floor, so our interactions should be minimal in the
future."

"I don't like she's being rewarded for wanting to make trouble for you,
but I hope you're right."

"It's the lesser of two evils," he replied.

In the kitchen, he handed me a wooden bowl of tossed salad with

matching tongs, then followed me to the table with a bottle of wine
and a basket of bread.

He'd set our places side-by-side. With a smile, I slid a placemat with
one plate and utensils to the opposite side from him, away from
temptation. I wanted to be able to talk to him with a clear head. I'd
just made up my mind that we could be friends ; anything more was
unadvisable. Surely he knew it, even though he seemed not to care.

Edward returned to the table with a casserole dish. Seeing what I'd
done, he shook his head and aimed a grin my way, then set the dish
on a raised server. Because of course, he had all the kitchen
accoutrements.

"You're a regular Martha Stewart, aren't you?"

"I like to cook. I would have gone to culinary school, but my father
forbade it-it wasn't masculine enough for him-so I took Business
Management instead."

"Well, it's never too late," I told him, as we settled into our seats.
"Maybe you could go part- time now."

"I've taken a cooking class here and there, mainly to fill the time, but
I've given up on the idea of a degree. I enjoy my job. Meanwhile, I'm
happy cooking for people like you."

I filled my salad bowl, then glanced at him. "People like me? There
are others you cook for?"

Who, besides me, did he have?

"I have a college friend I'm still in contact with-Donny. He was with
me Saturday night."

"Does he… know about your past?"

Edward winced. "No. I don't tell people about my past."

My chest twinged. I was right; he didn't have anyone to talk to about

Anthony or his parents.

"Esme and Carlisle know," he said softly as he filled his salad bowl.
"Esme was my therapist. Was," he stressed, seeing my surprise.
"After our sessions ended, she and her husband, Carlisle, kind of
took me under their wing. It started with dinner here and there. It was
easy to be around them."

He smiles as he pours dressing onto his lettuce. "Carlisle is a

pediatrician, and he has a way about him that… invites confidence. I
grew to respect and trust him, and eventually shared my story with
him. After that, they sort of became my unofficial parents. Although
they have two adopted children, they call me their third. They, um,
live on the fortieth floor here."

The look on his face was one of embarrassment colored by gentle

happiness. My heart melted.

"I'm so glad," I breathed.

"You are?"

"Edward, I'm relieved you have someone who feels like family. You
deserve that and more. I'd love to meet them sometime."

He aimed a pleased look my way. "They'd love to meet you, too. I've
told them about you, that I work with someone from my past. It's
because of them, because of their support, that I'm the way I am with
you today."

"You're the way you are because of you," I told him firmly. "They
might have influenced your behavior, but you make it happen."

We traded soft smiles.

"Thank you," he said.

I shrugged. "Would it be cheesy or inappropriate for me to say that

I'm the way I am now because of you?"

"Definitely cheesy," he replied with a pained grin.

"It's a good thing we have wine, then."

We kept it light for the rest of dinner, talking about everything and
nothing in particular. Our similar, painful pasts aside, I was surprised
to learn we had more in common than I'd thought. We both held
ourselves accountable for performing well at work; we both enjoyed
working out and being healthy; and we were both unapologetic fans
of Survivor .

"Season eight was the best," I argued. "Who doesn't like a love
story? And Rob and Amber are still married today."

"It was rigged," Edward teased me. "When the producers caught
wind of that budding romance, they started playing it up. Either Rob
or Amber won all of the reward challenges. They neglected the other
contestants."

I straightened in feigned outrage. "Rupert won a million dollars in the

public vote. He was older, bearded and overweight, not exactly a
romantic figure, so don't tell me the producers neglected the others."

We'd also get caught up in occasional awkward silences.

"Falling in love on camera has to be the worst thing," he stated while

he shook his head. "Imagine the public scrutiny of your every move,
and the pressure to remain together."

"I agree. Falling in love, being in love, should be a private thing," I

said, finding it difficult to look away from his eyes; I was falling into
his beautiful, compelling gaze without a parachute.

Just friends, Bella. Stop it.

After we finished dinner, I helped him clear the table despite his
protest. There was enough left over of the chicken parmesan for two
more meals. Edward packed it away in two single serving glass
dishes with matching red lids, then said one was mine.

"Awesome," I replied, because it had been that good. So what if I'd

have to run another hour on the treadmill to work it off? "But we both
can't take it for lunch tomorrow, or the whole office will know
something is up."

He slanted a look of exasperation at me. "Having dinner with me isn't

forbidden, Bella."

"Maybe not." I shrugged. "But I'd feel conspicuous, so can we keep

this a secret?"

He crossed his arms. "You want to hide our relationship?"

I crossed mine, too. "I don't want to advertise it, no."

"I'm not in the habit of sneaking around."

"Neither am I. So let's not do that."

"No lunches, then? Just dinners?"

"Um…"

"Because I saw you left with Seth today." He arched his eyebrows at
me playfully. "How is that any different?"

I don't want to crawl into Seth's lap. And he's not my boss.

"I don't want you to suddenly change your behavior around me," I
said with a sigh. "You usually eat alone at your desk."

"No one's holding a gun to your head," he drawled, and I realized I'd
hurt him. "You don't have to do anything with me."

"But that's the thing," I said softly, and his expression relaxed. "I want
to."

Edward's grip around one of the containers tightened as an awkward

silence ensued. I shifted nervously as I saw his knuckles whiten.
"Who's taking their chicken parm for lunch tomorrow?" he asked. "So
we can plan accordingly."

"I'll save mine for dinner," I said. "I think it's easier for me to get away
from my desk than you. Besides, Alice and I usually go to Goodwin's
on Tuesdays."

He nodded with a sardonic look on his face. "And we wouldn't want

to disturb the status quo."

"It's too late for that, I think. I've already been in your office too many
times for people not to have noticed, but I don't want to give them
any more to gossip about, either."

His eyes went distant as he thought about the implications. "All right,
I see your point. Although I'm prepared to refute any allegations
otherwise. I don't have to explain my actions to anyone but Stuart or
Colin."

"Well, you don't. I might. Alice has already asked."

"Next time she asks, send her to me."

"There shouldn't be a next time," I told him pointedly. "Edward, I don't

want to be treated any differently from anyone else in the office."

"As I recall, the few occasions that weren't purely work-related were
due to miscommunication between us," he said. "But since we're on
speaking terms now, there shouldn't be any more occurrences."

Karaoke and Riley, I thought, wincing.

"Right," I said. "So we agree then?"

"If I need to talk to you about anything work-related, you might still
be called into my office."

"That's fine," I said, linking my wrists together behind my back, then I

stood on my toes. "As long as it's work-related."
He raised an eyebrow at me and smirked, then chucked me under
my chin. "Isn't that what I just said?"

I made a face at him, then stepped over to the sink and began
rinsing off the dishes. He fought me at first, but I was insistent.
Grumbling good-naturedly about me being a pain in the ass guest,
he began stacking the dishes I handed him into the dishwasher. But I
had the distinct feeling that he enjoyed me being there beside him.

"Have another glass of wine with me?" he asked afterward, his voice
low and husky. How could he make a simple question sound so
alluring?

I was so tempted. But it was getting late, and I was leery of the
building intimacy… because we so easily fell into it… so I called for
an Uber.

Although he seemed reluctant to let me go, he stood and left with

me, and we rode down in the elevator. Our eyes met in the mirrored
wall, and it was as if a live wire shot through my body.

I tore my gaze away, squirming internally. Those piercing eyes of

his…

It felt like a lifetime before the elevator reached the ground floor.
Walking close behind me, Edward followed me through the revolving
door out onto the pavement. My Uber, a black Kia Sportage, was
already idling at the curb.

We turned to each other.

"I had a-"

"Thank you for-"

We smiled as we talked over each other, but then he stepped close

and pulled me up into a hug. I squeaked as he lifted me off the
ground, his arms around me, hands tight around my waist as my
breasts flattened against his chest. Sparks of awareness raced up
and down my body where we touched. My damn heart was racing as
I closed my hands spasmodically on his shoulders, then slowly
moved my arms around him.

He held me motionless, and for a few crazy, yet blissful seconds, I

relaxed against him.

"Only sweet dreams tonight," he whispered into my ear before he put

me back down.

Was.

Mush.

I didn't think what I was feeling could be called sweet. Friends didn't
hug like that, I thought. Judging by the fever flush high on his
cheekbones, he knew that, also.

I nodded dumbly, then stumbled into the back of the vehicle and onto
the seat.

Catching the car door by the top frame, he bent down and poked his
head into the open space, bronze locks falling boyishly across his
forehead. One corner of his mouth lifted, his eyes dusky green and
piercing. "See you tomorrow," he murmured, then closed the car
door.

I gazed open-mouthed at the back of the headrest as the car pulled

away from the curb.

How was I going to maintain our relationship as just friends and

coworkers if he affected me like this?

A/N: I have a Group on Facebook called Powered by 23 Kicks

Fanfiction where I've been sharing teasers. We're talking about song
choices for this story right now. Come join us!
Chapter 18
Pushing the boundaries

of friendship

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

and Paige and Aileen, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 18

Edward Cullen: Please turn on your camera.

The Teams message on my computer screen was so unexpected

that it didn't register at first.

Edward had never asked me to turn on my camera during a Safety

work meeting before. Besides, more than half of us didn't turn our
cameras on. It wasn't a collaboration type of meeting, and I didn't do
any of the talking, so no one really needed to see me.

My breath caught. Unless… unless for some reason, he did?

Unbidden, the memory of our goodbye hug last night shot through
my mind, making me hot, and I had to push my sleeves up my arms.
I'd dreamed about how that hug had affected me. Had tossed and
turned as I argued with myself over what kind of friends we were
supposed to be to each other.

Sure, we shared a painful past… and, maybe something even more

rare on the night we'd opened up to each other. Which only
reinforced my need of not wanting to lose that night. I didn't want to
lose him, or who he was to me now. The idea of something more
tugged at my heartstrings, but it could create all sorts of problems,
not the least of which could destroy what we'd found in each other.

Not to mention, he was my boss . Something we'd both apparently

forgotten about last night.

I felt like a woman divided. My logic, hopes, and cravings were at

war, while my body vibrated at the sidelines, waiting for an outcome.

Isabella Swan: I think there's something wrong with my camera.

Every first Tuesday of the month, the company's Office Manager-

who was also the Safety Manager-held our Safety meeting via
Teams. Her name was Jane, and I'd heard through Alice that Jane
had stand-up comedy aspirations. Something that definitely came in
handy while holding meetings for people with short attention spans.
She liked to begin her meetings by saying it was her duty to inform
us how we could be hurt, maimed, or killed in the workplace, thus
ensuring we were armed with our own fate as we braved the
potentially dangerous corridors of Smith and Devaney.

Sometimes, the meeting topics fit into everyday life.

" Today's topic, coincidentally enough, is Drowsy Driving Prevention

Week," she announced brightly. " Since Thanksgiving is only weeks
away, this could be a timely reminder that could save your life or
someone else's. Don't eat turkey and drive."

Although not everyone turned on their cameras, it was strongly

encouraged. I never did, at least not anymore, because I'd found out
the hard way during the fire Safety meeting months ago that my
thoughts passed too easily across my face. Jane had asked us to
take a drink of water every time she misspoke and called the fire
extinguisher the fire hydrant . After the third time it happened, I was
laughing so hard that she had interrupted her own meeting to call me
out.

Since that time, no one saw anything but my initials during Teams
meetings. Which was why Edward asking me to turn on my camera
now was a new, surprising development.

Edward Cullen: Turn on your camera, Bella.

No way, José.

As one of the Department Heads, Edward had to set a good

example by turning on his camera during meetings. I was a lowly
menial, and could get away with invisibility.

Where was he? Navigating through the two gallery pages on the
video screen, I found him in one of the top middle rows, and couldn't
help sighing. The man was seriously drop-dead beautiful, even
though he had a look of busy indifference on his face, which I
thought might hurt Jane's feelings.

Isabella Swan: Why do you look bored?

I watched his eyes flick to the side and down, a small smile curving
his mouth. The light brown sweater he wore brought out the auburn
in his riotous hair, and I wondered how many pairs of eyes were on
him at the moment.

Probably at least half the meeting attendees.

Edward Cullen: Why aren't you doing what I've asked?

I tapped a finger against my chin. Was he being boss-persistent, or

friend-persistent? And which did I want it to be?

Oh, I knew. I wasn't fooling myself.

Isabella Swan: I don't want anyone messaging me about how bored
I might look.

He was damn good-he didn't even crack a smile at my reply, just

briefly turned his head away, which showed off that amazing jawline
of his. But when he turned back, his eyes were aimed downward, so
I couldn't tell what he was feeling.

Edward Cullen: Turn your camera ON.

Then, he raised his head and deliberately frowned at the screen as if

in concentration, thick eyebrows lowering over his arresting eyes. I
huffed out a laugh as my breath caught; no one could make a frown
look better than Edward.

He was trying to frown me into compliance. Didn't he know that look

just made me want things I really shouldn't want?

I shook my head at him. At myself.

My fingers drifted over my keyboard to send another reply, but then,

as if someone suddenly turned my headset's volume up, I heard
Jane talking about the death rate statistics of car accidents. Thrown
abruptly back to the day when I learned Mom had been killed, I
flinched, fighting off a feeling of sharp despair.

Mom, I thought. Oh, Mom.

Feeling queasy, I pulled the headset off and forced myself to take a
few deep breaths. When I heard my computer ping again, I opened
my eyes to another message.

Edward Cullen: I need to see your face. Please turn on your

camera.

His frown was gone. Although he still wore a cool expression, I

thought I saw a tinge of hope in his gaze. It was so subtle, that had I
not studied his face so closely lately and realized that Edward often
spoke with his eyes, I would have missed it.

Despite the rocky feeling in my stomach, I had to smile. How could I

ignore that message ? Besides, I could hardly deny him the same
satisfaction I felt at getting to see his face.

With a sigh, I clicked the icon to turn on my camera, and felt

immediately conspicuous. I was farther away from my camera, which
meant my head and part of my chest popped up into the meeting
gallery on the screen. Staring at my image showed that I looked stiff,
and as if I was trying to remain inconspicuous.

Looking away from myself, I concentrated on Edward's face. He

was… almost smiling. Looking less like a bored, rigid businessman,
and more genial. Open.

Sexy.

Edward Cullen: There you are.

I tried to hide my smile by ducking my head briefly.

Isabella Swan: I feel ridiculous.

Edward Cullen: You don't look ridiculous. Are you all right?

It took a moment for me to understand what he was getting at;

apparently, he'd heard Jane's comment, too, and remembered that
my mom had been killed in a car accident.

We might have been at work, but things had changed. We knew

things about each other now.

Isabella Swan: I'm OK. I had to take my headset off, though. Any
more, and I might have barfed on camera. (This is why I don't like to
turn on my camera!) Besides, I'm not driving anywhere for
Thanksgiving. I'm in no danger of suffering from tryptophan and
driving while under the influence.
A new message box popped up then.

Alice Brandon: Hurray, you decided to join us.

I found her effervescent looking face in the gallery and scowled

internally at her.

Isabella Swan: At Edward's request, yes.

From next door, I heard Alice's muffled giggle.

Alice Brandon: Oh, he demanded that you make an appearance?

Lol

Yes, but it wasn't the boss I was responding to; it was the man.

A third message box popped up then, and I couldn't help rolling my

eyes. What was this, social hour? We were supposed to be paying
attention to the damn Safety meeting.

Ben Cheney: Hey, Bella, it's nice to see your face for once.

From the bottom right of my screen, Ben smiled cheesily at me.

And at everyone else who might have been watching.

Isabella Swan: Don't get used to it. ;-)

This was definitely going to be a one-time thing.

Edward Cullen: Why are you rolling your eyes? What's going on?

My eyes snapped back to his almost expressionless face, except for

the lopsided curve of his mouth. It looked like he was suppressing a
smile. Damn, he was watching me closely, as closely as I was him.
Without thinking, I shook my head.

Isabella Swan: Apparently, seeing my face on screen is a surprise

for some people, even though they see me in person daily.
There was a long pause, during which I studied his face far more
closely than I should have.

Edward Cullen: So, you're not going home for Thanksgiving?

Well, that wasn't where I thought he'd go next.

Isabella Swan: No, I spend Thanksgiving with Rose's family. I save

my vacation time for Christmas, and go home then.

After that, I pulled my headset back on and tried to look interested in

what Jane was saying.

" The only true solution to driving alert is getting sleep," she said. "
Even a quick nap in a public parking lot will help more than turning
up the AC, rolling down the windows, slapping yourself, or all the
other things we kid ourselves into thinking will help wake us up."

Yeah, right. I wondered if anyone really pulled over into a Walmart

parking lot for a power nap.

Edward Cullen: Would Rose mind if you did something different for
Thanksgiving this year? Like, if you spent it with me and Esme and
Carlisle?

My heart flipped, and I fought to keep my expression under control.

Ohhhhhh. He wanted me to celebrate Thanksgiving with him? Biting
my lip, I studied his image on the screen. He was still calm and cool
looking, although I noticed one of his shoulders was shaking, as if
his arm was moving nervously.

Did he really think I'd say no to him?

Alice Brandon: I can hear you typing over there… who are you
messaging?

Fuck. The woman noticed everything, but it would invite too many
questions if I told her I was messaging Edward.
Isabella Swan: I have a fan club. Ben is as surprised as you are at
my appearance.

I heard her giggle again.

Edward Cullen: If I couldn't see the smile on your face, I'd be

nervous right now…

Ah, shit-shit-shit.

Isabella Swan: Sorry! Yes, I'd love to come. Thanks for asking me.

Alice Brandon: Oh really? I think Ben might have a crush on you.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

I caught myself shaking my head, and wanted to slap myself. Damn

it. Hopefully no one was watching me but Edward, Alice, and Ben.

Isabella Swan: We're JUST coworkers and friends.

Edward Cullen: Who else are you messaging? Because it's

blatantly obvious I don't have your full attention.

Busted.

His mouth was twisted slightly, as if in disappointment, and I felt an

unexpected, sharp sting of remorse.

Isabella Swan: You have most of it, but my next door neighbor is still
messaging me.

I think she's trying to set me up with Ben, I thought.

Isabella Swan: She's still surprised to see me. It's annoying.

Edward Cullen: No doubt. I guess maybe you should turn your

camera on more often.
Unlikely.

But then I realized how much I had been staring at his face
throughout our exchange. For some crazy reason, I wanted to see
his face. A week ago, the sight of him had given me anxiety. Now,
being able to stare at him unobserved was a comfort. His face had
become dear to me.

Isabella Swan: OK, for you, I will. I like being able to see you, too,
so it's only fair.

On screen, I watched one of his eyebrows flicker. A corner of his

mouth lifted a little, and he raised a hand to fork it through his hair,
as if he was nervous or feeling self-conscious.

And it warmed me from the inside out.

Friends could compliment each other, right? That light, fluttery

feeling in my chest was normal-the kind you got when you made
someone else happy.

Edward Cullen: You're smiling.

I couldn't seem to stop it.

Isabella Swan: So are you.

Alice Brandon: Why are you smiling?

Isabella Swan: Because this meeting is finally ending.

"You seem lighter somehow," Alice noted as we settled at one of the

tables at Goodwin's.

The scent of freshly baked bread and cinnamon made my stomach

growl, which was covered up by the piped in music from a local radio
station. Because it was slow in the restaurant right now, we were
able to get the coveted booth in the corner. There was only one other
patron a few tables away, a man who seemed to be neglecting his
lunch for the phone in his hand.

I'd been trying to downplay my mood, but memories of Edward from

last night had been filling my head, and little smiles had been
sneaking out in between lighthearted sighs. I was lighter, and there
was no hiding it.

I was also confused, but that was something I couldn't share.

"Edward and I finally talked about the past," I admitted quietly as I

unwrapped my tuna sandwich, peeking under the bread to make
sure Gloria hadn't added any sliced pickles. "It was a… really good
talk. I feel as if I got a lot off my chest, so that's probably what you're
seeing."

Her eyes almost doubled in size. "When?" she breathed.

"Saturday night. We, er, ran into him also."

Her mouth opened in dismay. "Oh. You weren't going to tell me, were
you?"

I exhaled sharply. "I was . I just wasn't ready to do it first thing

yesterday morning. Plus, it's still new. Still raw." To put it mildly.
"It's… really a personal thing, and I'm still processing it."

Ignoring her food, she sat there with both hands pressed flat against
the table, and stared at me. As if she was trying to figure me out.

While I was trying to figure out the Cliffs Notes version of what to
share.

"It kind of happened on the spur of the moment. I think it was the
alcohol," I quipped. "I… invited him back to my apartment. All we did
was talk."

She frowned at me, and I realized with horror that I'd sounded
defensive. Shit.
"So we… talked."

That was even worse. I sounded like an idiot.

She cocked her head as she lifted a carrot stick to her mouth. Biting
into it noisily, she looked at me as if I was the most fascinating thing
she'd ever seen, and a picture of someone eating popcorn while
looking enraptured popped into my mind.

"Go on."

I took a quick drink of my iced tea to soothe my suddenly dry throat.

"I told him how he'd hurt me in the past-trotted out every memory I
could think of, and fell apart a little bit," I said with a wince,
downplaying what had really happened. "Essentially, I made him feel
guilty as hell, and he apologized. You know-your standard
confrontational argument with a happy ending."

"Really?" Alice leaned forward. "Okay, I'll allow you to whitewash it

all because I realize it's personal. I won't ask for the details. But… I
will say that I thought Edward seemed to be in an unusually good
mood yesterday. His past with you must have really been bothering
him."

Edward was in an unusually good mood yesterday?

"Like I said, we came to an agreement. He apologized and I

accepted. We're both at peace now about it all, I guess you could
say."

"So no more tense personal meetings between the two of you? No

more unexpected trips to his office?"

I knew it. Alice noticed everything.

"No," I replied firmly and took a bite of my sandwich.

Still studying me closer than I would have liked, she took a huge bite
of her own sandwich.

"Dish mus be a hooj weigh off your shoulders," she said in between
chews, with her hand across her mouth. For someone like Alice, who
liked to talk so much, eating must have been a real inconvenience.

"Yes. Now he and I can work purely on a professional level without

any ensuing complications," I said loftily, sounding like I had a stick
up my ass.

Also? Lying through my teeth. Who was I trying to convince,

anyway? Why couldn't I just shut up?

"So. Yeah," she said and took a gulp from her drink. "What's with the
moony sighs then?"

"The what?"

She smirked. "Last night as we rode down in the elevator, I saw your
eyes go distant… and then you sighed. I've caught you doing the
same thing more than once since then."

Shit. Had I really done that?

"I don't know what you mean. Maybe you're noticing something that
isn't really there," I said, defensive. "Maybe you have a case of
Happily Married-itus that makes you want to see everyone else in
the same state."

Her frown grew deeper the longer I spoke. "That's-what a load of

hooey. If I didn't know better, I'd think you'd met someone," she
continued.

I didn't like the way she was looking at me. Nope, not one bit.

"There's no one new in my life. Except for Irina."

Alice did a double take. "My yoga instructor?"

"Hey," I said and raised my hand, glad Alice had fallen for the
change in subject. "She changed my life."

Squinting her eyes at me, she considered me as if annoyed. "Okay.

Keep your secret, then. I won't pry if you're not ready to talk about it.
I'm here when you are."

"I know you are," I replied softly. She wasn't going to press me, and I
was humbly grateful. "Thank you."

"Anyway… I'm going tonight."

"Going?" I asked. "To yoga? I didn't bring my gear. How about next
time?"

"Every Tuesday," she said, pointing at me. "It's the most difficult day
of the week, so that's when I go."

I huffed out a laugh. "I thought Monday was the most difficult day of
the week?"

She shook her head as she stuffed the last bit of her sandwich in her
mouth. As she chewed, she studied me closely, talking to me with
her eyes.

Tuesdays suck.

The sandwich is good.

I think you're hiding something.

"Mondays are a beginning, and I love that," she says a moment later.
"But for me, Tuesdays are usually when things go wrong, or
something slides through the cracks. It's always been that way. If I
have a bad day, it's always a Tuesday."

Biting back a grin, I played devil's advocate. "What if you have a bad
time on a Wednesday? Or a Friday?"
Her eyebrow quirked. "Wednesday, I can handle; I'm still in the zone
from Tuesday's yoga session. And Friday is cocktail night. If it's any
other night, I deal with it by running on my treadmill." She grinned
wickedly. "And then there's Jaz."

"There you go," I said and smiled. Although, I repeated her last
statement in my mind and felt a moment of envy; Alice was in love
with her husband. If making love didn't help with the stress, then
talking it through with him might.

My sounding boards were Dad and Rose, but neither of them could
fill the void I'd been feeling for a while. It felt like an itch I needed to
scratch. Maybe I'd mistaken it months ago for merely wanting
someone's warm body next to my own. This new intimacy with
Edward had renewed my need to feel close to someone again.
Something real, totally unlike the fleeting closeness Paul had once
offered.

"You've got that look on your face again."

"What look?"

"Like you've got a juicy secret."

I gave her a look. "I have many secrets."

"This seems like something new."

I took the last bite of my sandwich and looked at her coolly. Her eyes
narrowed. "Bella, have you met someone?"

Kind of. No. Yes?

"Maybe. But it's not what you're thinking."

We're just friends. And he's my boss. So… not that way.

"So it's still new," she observed as her face split into a wide grin.
Her irritating perception was making me uncomfortable. "Mostly, I'm
just working out my frustrations. Getting to know myself and my
limits. So… I guess you could say the new person is me."

She shook her head. "I know what someone distracted by a new
love interest looks like. You've got all the symptoms: cheesy smiles,
distant eyes, unusually peppy."

Heart pounding in alarm, I snorted. "And you've got an overactive

imagination. Why is it that people who are in a happy relationship
always want others to be that way, too? Like I said before, you're
looking at me through your own lens, Alice. Seeing something that
isn't there."

I'd have to rein in my happiness about Edward's friendship. And rein

it in good.

She held a palm up. "Okay. I'll leave it alone. But can I say that I'm
happy to see you this way, though? It's nice."

"Nice," I scoffed and rolled my eyes. "Of course. Sure."

Alice's voice lowered. "You deserve to be happy, you know."

"Damn it, I am happy."

"Yeah, the scowl on your face clearly shouts it," she drawled with a
wink.

That afternoon, my Adobe Acrobat program suddenly stopped

working. My screen froze, then a message box popped up.

Sign in to your account.

What? Wasn't I already signed in? I'd been working in the program
all day.
Whispering a curse, I tried my usual log on credentials, but nothing
worked.

"Damn it, you never ask me to sign in," I muttered at my monitor.

After another few attempts, I admitted defeat.

I had to notify IT. Which meant notifying Jacob .

Fuck.

I pinged the IT Help channel on Teams. Hopefully, someone else in

Jacob's department could help me.

After a few minutes of no response, I decided to go get a fresh cup

of coffee. As I walked through the office to the kitchen, I
surreptitiously peeked into Edward's office. His headset was on, but
it didn't look like he was talking to anyone. Just before I moved out of
sight, he glanced my way. Aiming a small smile at him, I continued
on to the kitchen.

Jessica, and another woman whose name I had forgotten, were

already there.

"We're making a fresh pot," Jessica said, barely looking at me. She
was obviously in deep conversation with the other woman, and went
back to whispering furiously as I paused inside the door. Shrugging, I
took a seat at one of the tables and leafed through a magazine
laying there. A few seconds later, Jessica's whispering stopped and
a heavy silence descended.

I glanced up from the magazine and saw Jessica biting her lip as she
gazed behind me.

"Hello, ladies," Edward said. "It seems as if we all have the same
idea."

That's right, I thought. It's the three o'clock afternoon sugar crash
crowd.
"It'll be ready any time now," Jessica said, as a blush suffused her
face.

Sheesh, and I barely got a glance from her.

But hearing Edward's smooth voice warmed me up as well. The

woman standing beside Jessica was also gazing at him, a bit
obsequiously, I thought with an internal giggle. Looking at them both
behave as they did around him made me feel better.

See? It was normal to react to a beautiful man this way, even if he

was just a friend.

"No hurry," he replied as he moved over to the table where I was

sitting. "I could use a break, too. Hello, Bella."

Aware we were being watched and listened to, I smiled as Edward

pulled the chair out beside me. "Hi, Edward. It's nice getting to see
you out of your office."

I tried to say it as a matter of course, but it came out a bit breathless.

Of course, it did.

Fuck, fuckity, fuck.

When he grinned, I dropped my gaze back to the magazine. From

the corner of my eye, I saw his hand resting on the table. His thumb
was rubbing a mindless circle against the top, and little thrills of
sensation raced up and down my back as I remembered his touch.

"'The Ultimate Chicken Soup,'" Edward read aloud over my shoulder.

"What makes it the ultimate soup?"

I glanced up at the women, who hadn't yet resumed their

conversation. They were both just… standing there watching us as
though we were an exhibit at the zoo. I felt hot and cold at once, and
wanted to shout something childish at them.

Why don't you take a picture, it might last longer.

"Bone-in thigh meat, looks like," I murmured, ignoring our audience.
Then, remembering he was a cook, I asked, "Would you agree?"

"I would," he answered, his voice purposefully too low to carry. The
hand resting against the table moved over to tap the page I was
reading. "But white meat can be good, too, as long as you sear it in
butter first."

It took everything in me not to gape at him because of the way he'd

caressed the words-as if he was divulging a love secret. I wasn't
sure if it was my imagination, or if I was going crazy. His damn
proximity was also a huge distraction.

"What?" Jessica asked. "What did you say?"

Moving surreptitiously to the side, away from Edward, I wanted to

smack him for saying something so provocatively. I also felt like
smacking Jessica for trying to eavesdrop.

Edward sat back in his chair and gave Jessica one of his disarming
smiles. "Is that coffee ready yet?"

"Oh." Jessica spun back to the coffee maker. "Yes."

When she looked back over her shoulder at Edward, then at me, I
gave her a look, suggesting she was being ridiculous. Because, of
course, Edward wasn't doing or saying anything of note. He was just
talking about chicken meat, damn it.

"Yes," she coughed and repeated herself. "The coffee's ready."

"We'll wait for you two to get yours first," I said sweetly, then felt
something tap my foot. Oh, no he didn't. Flexing my ankle, I dug my
heel onto the top of his shoe. With a soft choke, he moved his foot
away.

Flipping the page over to chicken browning techniques, I shot a tiny

glare his way. He responded by leaning close again, as if he was
reading along.

"The trick is to let your pan get hot enough first," he murmured, and
his words were soft and silky, licking like fire across my skin.

Oh. My. God.

Swimming through a wave of heat, I slapped the cooking magazine

closed, then pulled the Harper's Bazaar over and opened it to
Beyoncé talking about self-care and rejecting diet culture.

Which Edward ignored, because, apparently, he had a chicken kink.

"Did you know chicken actually has more tryptophan than turkey?"
he asked too softly for the other women to hear. "Tryptophan boosts
brain levels of serotonin, which carries messages between nerve
cells in your brain and body… messages such as sleep, mood, and
sexual desire."

Sexual what?

I cleared my tundra-dry throat.

"Hmm, it seems sleep is the dominant message," I forced out in a

normal tone of voice. Not sure if I was successful, but I tried. "Since
most people fall asleep after a meal of poultry and potatoes covered
in gravy."

Edward sat back, a little smile curving his mouth. In his eyes was
laughter, and a kind of gentle rebuke that tugged at my chest.

"Did you know that the month of August is when most babies are
born?"

It was the last thing I'd expected him to say.

"Uh, no, I'm not that aware of birth data," I said with a note of
confusion. Where was he going with this?
"Well, counting back nine months from August brings us to
November," he said with a wolfish grin. "Which might shoot a dart
into your theory that most people fall asleep after having had
poultry."

I tried to hold my laughter back, but it burst out. "You're nuts. People
with full stomachs aren't thinking about… sex," I hissed, all too
aware we were still being listened to.

"Oh, they're thinking about it," he insisted, still aiming that disarming
grin at me.

"But they're not doing it," I whispered.

"Obviously, quite a few of them are," he replied, just above a

whisper, singing the little hairs all across my body.

"It's all yours," Jessica said, her voice loud and suddenly intrusive.

I straightened in alarm as she and her friend moved past us. Jessica
seemed a little put out that she hadn't been included in our
conversation, but the woman following her just nodded and smiled
politely at Edward. I might have been invisible.

With a heavy sigh, I pushed myself up out of the chair while shaking
my head at him. "You sure have an interesting range of knowledge,"
I said accusingly.

"I do," he answered and stood. "That's another thing my father

insisted on: a well-rounded, educated son. If I wasn't practicing piano
or baseball, he was having me read books such as Decline and
Prosper! Changing Global Birth Rates and the Advantages of Fewer
Children ."

The look on his face was one of painful awareness, and he'd
disarmed me again . Realizing I was reaching out to touch him, I
jerked back in surprise, something that made his head duck.
"Sorry about that," he murmured. "I didn't mean to go there. But
there's no need to be nervous. You're not doing anything wrong."

I felt a tiny spark of anger. Anger due to the emotional seesaw he

was putting me on.

"Touching you at the office would be wrong," I whispered. A casual

touch would have been fine if I didn't feel something more for him,
but I did. Damn it, I did. And it was something that I needed to
quash. "Aren't you supposed to be stern and unapproachable?"

He stood there gazing down at me whimsically, then coolly, as if we

were discussing the weather. "That was all you, Bella. I've never
been that type of boss."

Then, he gave me a wicked smile that sent a lick of fire through my

body. "But if it makes you feel better, please get your coffee and get
back to work."

And the fire burst into a burning tumbleweed, obliterating my

common sense as it tore through my bloodstream.

Stomp it out, damn it.

"Better," I breathed, my eyes sliding away from him.

This time, Edward filled our coffee cups. And although he drank his
black, he paused as I filled my cup with cream and sugar, his
presence beside me strong as a gravitational pull.

Quash it.

"Can I call you tonight?" he asked softly.

Don't look at him. Don't look at him.

"Of course. You can call me whenever you want," I answered,

meaning it.
"What about Skype?"

My chest thumped. Did friends Skype with each other? Rose and I
didn't, but then we saw each other regularly. Was it different when
the friends were a man and a woman?

"Um, sure?"

You're supposed to quash it.

Just before we reached the doorway that led back to the offices, I
glanced at him again. Because I couldn't not.

I shouldn't have.

"I'll talk to you later then," I forced myself to say over the drumming
of my heart.

He'd been looking at me as if I was all he needed.

The heated intensity of his stare drilled into my mind and senses as I
drifted in a dreamlike state back to my desk. Last week, we hadn't
even been talking. Two days ago, he'd been a friend. Last night, he'd
acted like more.

And I was right there with him. It was as if we were heading down
the relationship chain at breakneck speed. Someone needed to put
the brakes on, and it wasn't going to be him. He'd obviously lost his
mind, and I was close to losing mine.

I sank into my chair and hunched over my desk, feeling

overwhelmed and out of my depth.

… Dreamily so.

… Dangerously so.
A/N: I have a Group on Facebook called Powered by 23 Kicks
Fanfiction where I've been sharing teasers and other fun stuff. Come
join us!
Chapter 19
A little honesty

goes a long way

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

and Paige and Aileen, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 19

I poised the knife over the cooked chicken breast on the cutting
board, imagining Edward was standing close behind me, his fingers
wrapped around mine as he guided me. In my mind, I heard his
voice the way it sounded this afternoon-low, seductive, dangerous.

To keep the meat tender, cut against the grain for shorter fibers.

He wasn't even here, but remembering the way he had spoken today
had heat crawling up my back. Even more powerful than his voice
were those amazing eyes of his. The intense, rather stiff way he'd
looked at me just before I'd left the lunchroom-it felt as though he'd
reached right inside my chest. Such naked desire. I hadn't been able
to take a deep breath in hours. Hadn't been able to think of anything
else. No one had ever looked at me that way before.
Did he realize he'd looked at me that way? Was it deliberate?
Because it seemed as if it was, and if it was, heaven help me, I was
in trouble. Wild trouble.

Thank God I wasn't seeing him in person tonight.

A phone call, I could handle.

I think.

Shaking my arms out nervously, I decided to shred the meat for my

salad instead. Placing the chicken into a bowl, I began pulling it
apart.

Being friends with Edward was no big deal, right? People were
friends with their bosses. I couldn't be the first one. Or the only one.
Except it seemed to be turning into something more, and that was
what frightened me.

I'd come home and looked through the Employee Handbook. There
were no terms about a non-fraternization policy, but there was a
mandatory disclosure to a superior of a workplace relationship.
Fearful, and expecting to see a ban on relationships between
superiors and subordinates, all I found was that they required a
"relationship" agreement that protected the company, and an
acknowledgement of anti-sexual harassment.

Which surprised the hell out of me.

Smith and Devaney was a young company. Maybe that was why.
Maybe they hadn't been bitten on the ass with fraternization turned
sour yet. But then again, wasn't Illinois designated as an at-will
employment state? That meant I could be fired at any time for any
reason, with no advance notice. So if things didn't work out with
Edward, I was sure I'd be the fall guy. Girl.

A minute later when the app on my laptop started ringing, I yelped

and dropped a carrot onto the floor.
You're being ridiculous, I told myself as I retrieved the carrot. It's just
Edward.

With a deep inhale, I pressed a button and the laptop's screen came
alive with his face: disheveled bronze locks falling across a high
forehead, light-colored eyes under heavy eyebrows, slightly twisted
nose, and a well-shaped mouth that was curved in a smile. Very non-
threatening, except for what the look in his eyes did to my insides.

Slow down, heart.

"Hi," I exhaled.

"Hi," he replied softly.

We stared at each other silently for a few moments, until I abruptly

realized I was just standing there looking at him. Startled into
moving, I adjusted the placement of my laptop, easing it back to the
edge of the counter. Now, I could see him while I chopped my
vegetables. Hopefully, I didn't lose a finger in the process.

"You're in the kitchen," he said, and I could see the background

behind him change as he turned slowly, cherry wood cabinets
gleaming. "I guess we had the same idea. What are you making?"

I paused, cringing inwardly. "Chicken salad."

He threw his head back in laughter, and I admired the column of his
neck and his Adam's apple. It was thick and bony, and I'd never
been so aware of a man's neck before; it was crazy.

"What about your leftover chicken parmesan?" he asked, his eyes

still carrying the warmth of his laughter. Seeing him that way had me
smiling.

"I decided to save it for lunch tomorrow. It's too heavy to eat two
nights in a row," I said.
"What if someone recognizes that the container is similar to mine?"
he asked, flashing a smirk at me. "You better move it into a different
one."

I smirked back at him. "You think I won't?"

Because I totally planned on doing that.

"So, what about you? What are you having?"

"Baked tilapia and coconut rice casserole," he replied.

"Wow." I was jealous.

Onscreen, I watched as he lifted a foil-covered casserole dish from

the counter. He was wearing a white T-shirt, and my eyes
immediately went to his bare muscled arms, and the veins I could
see just under the skin. Good God, he was built . I'd felt the hard
strength of his body, but seeing evidence of it was another thing
entirely.

"Yeah, coconut milk is an easy way to flavor rice," he was saying. "I
never cook rice anymore without it, actually."

"Sounds amazing," I said, my mouth watering -over him, not the

food.

He disappeared from the screen for a few seconds when he bent to

put the casserole dish into the oven, then faced me again with a
lopsided grin.

"I'd bring you some tomorrow if you weren't determined to keep our
friendship under wraps," he drawled, and I loved the sound of his
teasing tone. Loved how he was looking at me all soft.

But it gave me an opening.

"Edward," I said gently, hesitantly, as I dropped the last of the cut

carrots into my bowl. "I'm… nervous. Scared of where we're headed,
you know?"

Scared of how you're looking at me. Scared of how it affects me.

Scared someone else will see…

On screen, his eyes sharpened at the same time his expression

softened.

"Tell me," he invited warmly.

I gave the bowl in my hand a few shakes to mix the contents, then
turned to place it in the fridge. Who could eat at a time like this?

Then, facing him again, I took a breath, steeling myself. I knew I

wasn't misreading the situation in the kitchen this afternoon, but it
was a difficult thing to bring up-I was throwing light onto a tricky
situation that could turn into something very painful. For me.

"We have a history," I began. "We went to high school together.

Hated each other. When I started this job, I wasn't sure how long I
was going to make it. I was so angry at you, and I know it affected
our working relationship."

He was bent over, leaning casually against one of his granite

countertops, his face filling the entire screen. At the moment, his
piercing eyes were soulful as they gazed at me.

"Which I tried to mitigate as much as possible," he replied. "I think I

was successful, don't you?"

Remembering our talk following the altercation with Riley, I had to

agree. "Yes, but-"

"Both Colin and Stuart know of our past," he interrupted smoothly.

I blanched. They did?

He hastened to reassure me. "They don't know the details, only the
framework, and only as it might affect our working relationship.
Which I was determined to make a success, Bella, one way or
another. I owed you, and I was prepared to be whatever you needed
me to be-even taking a step back-for you to succeed."

I blinked. "But you weren't an absentee boss," I corrected him in

confusion. "Because I wanted you to be."

He stood and the scenery behind him changed as he moved through

his apartment. I saw the tops of his windows and the blue sky
beyond, buildings in the distance. Eventually, he reached his couch
and lay back on it comfortably, then folded his arms behind his head.
From my vantage point, I could tell he'd set the laptop low on his
stomach.

"I was much less hands-on with you than with anyone else," he
replied, his tone matter-of-fact serious. "For example, I didn't have a
meeting with you to make sure you understood Luxe's market or its
customer trends. We didn't discuss your strategy or the budget, and I
didn't oversee your marketing materials."

"But Alice did," I reminded him.

"Yes, and then I had her share it all with me. That's something Colin
doesn't know, by the way. He wouldn't approve of me stepping back,
considering my role. I'm responsible for the entire aspect of any
given campaign, expected to lead my Team of Managers through
initial strategy to final implementation. Not just with you, but with the
client as well."

"Oh," I said faintly, realizing he had given me space after all. When it
came right down to it, I kind of felt guilty for being so difficult. But
then again, I hadn't asked him to do anything special.

No, I'd just expected it, I realized with shame. I'd told him that we
should behave like strangers.

"I'm lucky you and Alice are as good as you are, or I wouldn't have
been able to do it," he added. "It was damn difficult, though,
considering how hands-on I usually am. I didn't get promoted to this
position by hanging out in the background."

"Thank you," I said. "Thank you for making an exception, for risking
your position, for me. You don't have to do it anymore, though."

"Don't I?" he asked, and I gave him a questioning look.

"You raised the idea already," he said gently, and the look in his eyes
had my heart doing crazy things again. "You're scared of where
we're headed?"

Oh yes. That. Because he was giving me unguarded looks of

passion in the kitchen. And while it had scared and thrilled me in
equal measure, someone had to be the voice of reason. We couldn't
just go around mooning at each other.

"Aren't you?" I asked.

"Yes and no," he answered immediately, then, with a pained look on

his face, continued. "Yes, because part of me wonders if I even have
the right to feel this way about you. Do I, Bella?" he asked pointedly,
almost whispering by the time he said my name.

My heart was slamming in my chest at his question, at the look in his

unguarded eyes. Overwhelmed at the power he was giving me, it
was a few moments before I could speak, before I could ease myself
past the sudden raw emotion I saw in his face.

"Yes," I breathed over the lump in my throat. " Yes. A week ago, I
might have answered differently, but everything… everything
changed Saturday night." The intimacy I'd felt with him still shook me
to the core, and still had me craving more of it. "You're not who I
thought you were, Edward. You're so much more . Certainly more
than the mistakes you made with me in the past."

It was another milestone for me to admit, and maybe, as his chest

deflated, another one for him to hear. When I saw his eyes close and
that it took him a beat to recover, it was my turn to comfort him.

"I'm right there with you. Amazed at how easily we could just fall
into… but it's just happening so fast, and I'm still trying to wrap my
head around it all," I told him, as his eyes met mine again. How odd
and wonderful it was that just a look from him could steal my breath,
or put me at ease.

"It's a little different for me," he said in a gritty tone, looking pained
again. "These feelings have been building for a while. I almost feel
like I've been holding back."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my fingers brushing the edge of the

computer screen. I wished he were here so I could touch him. He
looked like he could use a hug.

"Don't be sorry. It's enough to have you here now."

We stared wordlessly at each other, and I let what I was feeling just
flow over and around me. All I could feel and think was Edward,
Edward, Edward. The way he'd held me, the sound of his voice
against my temple, the way he was looking at me now.

Finally, I cleared my throat, prompting him. "You said you also

weren't nervous of where we were headed?"

How could he not be?

"That's right," he said. "And here, I'm operating on information you

don't have yet. Stuart used to date one of his Senior Account
Managers. She's his wife now. Because of their successful
relationship, Smith and Devaney tolerate work relationships."

It took me a minute to process. Loud and gregarious-sometimes

easy to anger, which he never bothered to hide-Stuart Devaney had
had a relationship with a subordinate? And married her?
"Although, we are required to disclose a relationship to a superior,
and to sign an agreement that protects the company," Edward
continued. "Granted, Olivia no longer works for the company. But
she and Stuart worked together for over a year while they dated.
They handled themselves professionally. No one could tell they were
in a romantic relationship while they were at work."

"She… quit?" I asked faintly.

"She became a full-time mother," Edward answered. "I don't know

that she would have returned to the company, though. Probably not,
if I had to guess."

His expression was open, almost vulnerable, inviting me to say or

ask whatever I needed.

I felt weak suddenly, and realized I was still standing in my kitchen. I

needed to sit. Grabbing the laptop, I moved over to my own couch,
mirroring his position as I lay back against it. I settled the laptop on
my stomach, trying to think of the words I needed to say.

"I don't want to lose you, Edward. This friendship. We just… found
each other. Aren't we still getting to know each other?" I whispered,
feeling fragile at the thought of not being close to him again, of not
being able to talk like this, just because we rushed into things.

"We are," he murmured, then he sighed. "But after all the time and
effort I spent trying to reach you, I'm not about to lose you now. I only
have a few people in my life who know as much about me as you do.
And after losing Anthony, I'm not going to lose you ."

My heart picked up at the warmth of his voice and the intense look in
his eyes. All the pain and heartache we'd shared was written on his
face, as well as the hope for something more.

"I also realize I'm a few steps ahead of you," he murmured, low and
rough. "But like I told you last night, I've always been interested in
you. I like you. I want to be with you. After being held back by a
locked door, it feels like I've finally been granted access to the candy
store. To you."

My chest heaved in an exhale. "Too much candy will make you sick,"
I warned breathlessly.

The wolfish grin was back. "I'll pace myself. I'll start with the
Hershey's Kisses. The coconut Mounds, I'll save for last."

"Oh my God," I choked out over a laugh.

"I know what I want," he answered simply.

And I want you, was the clear implication.

We studied each other in silence, and I could tell he was waiting for
more from me. That he knew I had more to say. When his eyes
dropped to my mouth, I realized I was biting my lip.

"I'm… not quite there yet," I admitted haltingly. Well, my body was.
My heart was still afraid and unsure.

There was something like a kiss in the heat of his gaze. "I know."

"And… I think you're too open with me at the office. Too friendly."

His smile slowly dissolved into a concerned frown. "I… okay. You're
right," he said on a heavy exhale, sounding unsure for the first time.
"I can explain it by saying that I'm still not used to having access to
you outside of the office, but that's just an excuse. I'm careful about
who's around when I interact with you, though. Jessica's… noted
infatuation with me means she isn't exactly a reliable source of
information. If I had to, I'd probably find it easy to discredit her. I
might seem as if I've lost my head, but I assure you, I haven't. I don't
want to give anyone a reason to gossip about us."

"But that's just it. They already do. And since there is something
going on with us, there's nothing to be discredited," I insisted. "Didn't
you notice the way Jessica was staring at us? Even Alice is
wondering what's going on with me lately."

He gazed at me thoughtfully. "Maybe if we get to a certain point, we

can acknowledge our relationship openly to help curtail some of the
speculation. Although in a company the size of where we work,
there's bound to be talk. Most of it is baseless conjecture."

My jaw clenched. "Like you and Tanya?"

His eyes closed briefly. "Right," he ground out. "You've got me there.
I was drunk that night, and made a mistake I'm still paying for now."

I felt myself fidgeting. Itching inside my skin. Despite his intelligence,

Edward had a history of making questionable decisions: hiring me
while I was still an enemy, being too friendly with me out in the open
on a number of occasions, and getting way too friendly with an
underling during an employee party.

"How, er, far did it go?"

He gave me a piercing stare. "Kissing and over-the-clothes petting."

As bad as that was to imagine, the relief I felt that it had only gone
that far was immeasurable.

"It was incredibly stupid of me-one of the biggest mistakes I've ever
made. Thankfully, I had the wherewithal to go directly to HR. I damn
near choked on the ramifications of Colin's disappointment. All of this
to say, I'm not entering into this with you lightly, Bella."

I nodded in a distracted way, still fighting ugly images of Edward and

Tanya inside my head. Drunk, impassioned kissing could lead to
unwary caressing all over the body… which meant she already knew
him in a way I didn't. Christ, she might even know the shape of his
cock.

Stop it, I told myself. You know him in a way she never will.
I blinked, coming back to the moment to see that his eyes were softly
apologetic. But thinking of their cool, tense interactions now brought
to mind how ugly things could get. Not to mention, everyone seemed
to know about his ill-advised hookup, and damned if I wanted to be
talked about in that way.

I closed my eyes while I said what I needed to say in a rush. "I'm

going to end up as an office romance gone wrong if things don't work
out between us. I already know I'll be the one who has to sacrifice,
and I don't want to lose my job."

When I'd started at Smith and Devaney, I'd done so with a feeling of
fatalism. It was never going to last long-term, because how could
anything with Edward work out? But now, the job mattered to me. It
mattered a whole lot.

But so did Edward. It astonished me how much he'd come to mean

in such a short amount of time. The last six months of interacting
with him must have been working on my psyche in the background,
tenderizing my emotions and feelings for him, because the night of
our confrontation was so much more than just a rehash of our painful
pasts. It was a beginning, but of what exactly?

"I'd never let that happen, Bella. Never," he stressed with a fierce
look, and my heart thudded in response. "But, you're going to tear us
apart before we've even begun?"

Nonplussed, I shook my head. "You… You're so sure of yourself, that

this is going to work out, that you've left no room for failure," I
whispered.

"I always operate with success in mind."

"I'm not a campaign or a strategy to be hammered out," I told him.

"I'm a person."

"You're my person," he replied firmly with a dead serious look on his

face. "I don't see that changing."
He took my breath away. And his steadfast certainty was almost
enough to appease me.

"But what if it doesn't, Edward?" I pressed. "What if a worst-case

scenario happens? Am I going to lose my job? Lose you?"

He pushed himself up from a reclining position, his expression

morphing from firm to thoughtful.

"Bella, we'll handle it like we're having this discussion now. We'll talk
it through together. Make decisions in lockstep together. If it all goes
south, I wouldn't throw you to the wolves any more than you would
me. And if one of us has to sacrifice, we'll make that decision
together," he said in a calm, assured tone. "But I don't see that
happening. You're my one."

"How can you be so sure?" I whispered.

I watched the tips of his fingers brush across the screen, as if he was
touching my face.

"How can you not be?" he asked, and I felt a sharp stab in my chest.
I opened my mouth to say something, but he continued with a heavy
sigh.

"You're not there yet, I get it. But it's what I feel. When I look at you, I
see your eyes the way they looked after I shared my worst secret. It
was as if you were kissing away all my pain without even touching
me. That's not something I'll ever forget."

I inhaled shakily, blinking away the tears in my eyes. I had cause to

be genuinely worried, but his certainty was compelling. His words,
the lulling sound of his voice, his amazingly expressive eyes…
damn, my soul was creeping out from its hiding place.

"You're the Peggy Carter to my Steve Rogers," he said with a wide

smile. "He loved her for over eleven years before he traveled back
into the past to be with her."
I laughed in a painful way, because it had been about eleven years
ago when we were in high school. "I'm sure you haven't been pining
after me for all these years," I scoffed.

"No, but I never forgot you. Never forgot those eyes," he murmured.
"Or your sass."

For some reason, I couldn't stop smiling. Although I wasn't one

hundred percent satisfied by his nipping and tucking of my concerns,
I was somewhat mollified by his answers. There seemed to be a
plan. Although no one could guarantee we didn't fail, every word and
look he gave me seemed to solidify how he felt, and there was
comfort in that.

Edward took a breath, suddenly looking serious. "I'll never

deliberately hurt you again, Bella. If you don't believe anything else,
you can believe that."

I lost myself in his gaze, feeling as if I was falling and falling.

Breathe, Bella, breathe.

"It's not that I don't believe in you," I managed to say. "I guess I'm a
bit pessimistic."

"You're not," he said with a shake of his head. "You're more of a

realist. You're honest and straightforward. You'll only jump into this
after you've made sure there is a demonstrable benefit that
outweighs the risks."

"Wow." I was laughing again. "You make me sound kind of

calculating, like I'm sitting on the sidelines twirling my mustache."

"Maybe, but I'll take you that way, mustache and all."

"So… at work… you'll be more careful around me?" I asked,

hesitantly, because I didn't want to offend him; he was so sure he'd
been careful. "No more teasing? I'm afraid someone will see us,
Edward. Please."

His mouth crooked up in an apologetic grin. "I'll tone it down. Having

this talk with you has helped calm some of what I've been feeling. At
least I'm inside the candy store now."

"Leave the Mounds alone," I warned.

After a shocked pause, he chuckled. "I'll be too busy fingering the

Niggly Wigglys."

"The whats?"

"Those little paper tails that stick out of a Hershey's Kiss," he said,
and both of us got caught up in laughter. Once our laughter died
down, we were staring silently at each other again. It was as if there
was a force field drawing my eyes to his, and I couldn't look away.
Didn't want to look away.

"You have a gorgeous smile," he told me with a catch in his voice.

The look on his face made me want to lick my lips. "No one's ever
admired my smile before," I told him.

"They have," he replied immediately. "Trust me."

His timer went off then, and he carried me with him back to his
kitchen. While we ate, he teased me about why I was having
chicken. On a whim, I googled fish, telling him with a laugh that it
had even more tryptophan than chicken. We decided it was a tossup
on who was going to be the more sexually frustrated, and came up
with a number of interesting solutions-like doing the niggly wiggly
against the wettest part of ourselves-which had me giggling and
blushing like a virgin.

Before I knew it, hours had passed.

"Do you want to spend Saturday together?" he asked. "I've never
been to the Shedd Aquarium. Have you?"

I hadn't. And yes, even though part of me was afraid of how I'd react
around him, around all of that charisma, I wanted to spend the day
with him.

"I can't wait to see you tomorrow," he said just before we ended the
call, and his voice was husky and low and sexy. "I know I'm seeing
you now, but Isabella Swan in three D is even better."

"You're crazy," I breathed, my heart pounding.

But he wasn't holding anything back anymore. Not by word, gesture,

or by the sensual look in his eyes.

"Crazy for you," he breathed back.

A/N: I have a Group on Facebook called Powered by 23 Kicks

Fanfiction where I've been sharing teasers and other fun stuff. Come
join us!
Chapter 20
Who's ready for a DATE?

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

and Paige and Aileen, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 20

The rest of the week was a surprising exercise in embarrassment.

Fully aware now of Edward's interest, it only seemed to fan the

flames of my own. It wasn't as if I hadn't been aware of him before,
but my radar was more powerful than it had ever been. It was
damned inconvenient. I couldn't even get up to go pee without
knowing exactly where he was and what he was doing. If he was a
row over talking to Seth, or if he was standing in Colin's office, or if
he happened to be looking my way, I felt it. And no matter how hard I
tried every time I had to move away from my desk, I couldn't keep
my eyes from straying to his office. Every time, he seemed to be just
as aware of me, as well.

I didn't know how it was for him, but if Edward got within twenty feet
of me, butterflies invaded my stomach and my brain short- circuited.
All the hair on my body would prickle as my heart went into
overdrive, my gaze shooting unerringly to him. Most often, to his
mouth. My common sense had been replaced by an awkward sense
of awareness around him.

The first time it happened was during Wednesday's impromptu

strategy meeting, when I tried to keep myself busy by taking notes to
avoid looking at Edward. But that only worked as long as someone
was actually talking. Before I knew it was happening, I was staring at
the knot in his tie, and then higher. His jaw was lightly stubbled,
making me wonder what it would feel like against the tips of my
fingers.

When he talked, Edward used his hands, as he was doing then. A

man's hands were a weakness of mine, and seeing how he used his-
noticing how masculine and long his fingers were, that he wore a
thick-banded watch on his wrist, that his thumb curved slightly-I had
completely missed someone asking me a question. Luckily, his
mouth turning up into a knowing, lopsided grin, Edward himself
covered for me. Cheeks flushed lightly, he'd been visibly amused.

I'd been horribly embarrassed and angry with myself. At least I

hadn't been chewing on a pen as I stared in lamb-like adoration at
him.

Another time I completely lost myself was Friday morning's elevator

ride up to our floor. Edward was running late that day, and had come
upon me out of the blue, much as he had once before. But Alice had
also been waiting with me… and then Tanya had also arrived for the
day. The two of them had been surprised to see Edward, and made
a big deal out of it. I'd been unable to say anything-or to do much
more than stop myself from melting or exploding over how sexy he
looked in his long black overcoat and tie.

Especially when he managed to secure a spot just behind me in the

elevator. Of course, Tanya had been standing right beside me, but
Edward had been careful, only touching me on my back as the
elevator came to a stop. I could barely feel the touch-it was slight
and over the thickness of my winter coat-yet, I felt it everywhere .
"Are you coming?" Alice had asked in a puzzled way, making me
realize I was standing there unmoving.

I felt as if I was coming undone.

We Skyped again on Wednesday and Thursday, getting to know

each other better. We talked a bit about past relationships-he'd had
two, I'd had only one-and shared some of the ideal traits we were
hoping for in a partner. A good listener topped both of our wants, as
did honesty. He wanted someone he could cook for on Sunday
mornings, and I wanted someone who'd take me out dancing on a
Saturday night. He liked Louis Armstrong and Dizzy Gillespie, and I
liked The Beatles and Fleetwood Mac. He could play the piano, and I
could play racquetball.

He liked having the occasional heart-to-heart with Carlisle, and I told

him how it was interesting that he'd seemed to switch his
confessions from Esme to Carlisle. He said it was because he
wanted Carlisle to know him as well as Esme did, and I melted. I told
him I usually had heart-to-heart talks with my dad while catching fish
with him on the Sol Duc River in Washington. Edward had never
gone fishing, but thought he'd like to try.

But he didn't think he could go back to Forks, not even maybe one
day . His parents still lived there on the outskirts of town, and it held
too many memories for him. He didn't want to have anything to do
with his parents; he didn't want to run the risk of running into one of
them, or anyone else who might know him; and he certainly didn't
want the money he'd grown up hearing about from his father. And I
understood all of his reasons, but it was the one painful spot in our
discussions because I didn't think my dad would ever make a trip to
Chicago. Although it was still early in our relationship, the thought of
Dad and Edward never meeting face-to-face stung.

There were pauses in our conversation when we'd just stare at each
other, as if neither of us could believe we were actually speaking to
the other. Or, as if we could feel the way we did. At least, that was
the case for me. If anyone had told me ten years ago that I'd be
thinking about having sex with Edward Cullen, I'd have decked that
person all the way into next Tuesday. It just didn't seem possible
sometimes.

While his eyes and voice still did crazy things to my pulse rate,
seeing Edward through a screen was easier on my senses. I was
hoping that his power over me might dull a bit in time for Saturday.
How was I going to react around him when it was just the two of us,
when we didn't have to be mindful of where we were or who was
watching?

My anxious wondering carried over into my dreams, where I was

either free and open with him, or running scared away from him. It
wasn't exactly promising for my state of mind.

On Friday, we each had our own plans. I had dinner with Rose, and
he was going to see the Blackhawks with his college friend, Donny,
and some of Donny's friends. But even though I wasn't seeing
Edward on Friday, I was talking about him.

I confided in Rose. It was cathartic sharing that I was interested in

Edward. It was also a wake-up call, because I was finally admitting it
out loud.

"The kid who tormented you in high school? The one who made you
cry? That Edward Cullen? I mean, I know he's hot, but Bella."

"He's so different from the kid he used to be, Rose. We had a long
discussion about everything. He told me about his past, and I
forgave him. Saturday night when I left? It was with him."

She was astonished. But also mirthful, as if she simply couldn't

believe it.

"It's kind of fast, isn't it? But you look happy," she told me.

And I was. At that moment, when anything was possible, I truly was
happy.
But she advised me to be careful, mainly because we were moving
so quickly, and that worried me because it fed into my own fears and
misgivings. I tried to counter them by reminding myself that what
Edward and I had-our type of friendship, how it was born-didn't just
happen every day. Mainly because of everything we'd gone through,
we had learned to communicate openly with each other. It didn't
guarantee we'd be successful, but it sure increased the odds if I
decided to take the leap.

It was with that mindset that I met Edward at the Shedd Aquarium on
Saturday. As soon as my Uber pulled into the horseshoe-shaped
drop-off zone, I saw him standing near the entrance. Under the
golden rays of a faded autumn sunrise, his bronze hair shone almost
copper. He was an attractive, imposing figure in a black bomber
jacket. I saw more than one person looking his way as they passed
him.

Because his gaze was focused on the cars dropping off passengers,
he spotted me the instant I stepped onto the pavement. Even from
ten or so feet away, I felt the powerful zing of his eyes. With a slight
smile, he walked my way swiftly, meeting me before I'd made it
halfway across the entrance's garden. And then his arms were inside
my open jacket and around my back. He dragged me close to his
body, and my nose found the warm hollow of his throat.

"Tiger eyes," I thought he murmured against the top of my head.

I worked my way through his open jacket as well, my hands finding

purchase around his waist, fingers grasping the material of his shirt.
Edward was a hugger. A huge hugger, and it was unexpectedly
wonderful being held this way, as if I was cherished. He'd hugged me
close before, but it felt different this time. I felt different, as I
registered every place on my body that touched him, my head
swimming at his proximity.

Finally, I pulled back, but he didn't release me, not completely. He let
me slide my torso away, but kept hold of my lower waist, which
prompted me to glance up at him. His head was tilted forward, his
face close, and as he bent even closer, I thought he was going to
kiss me. Instead, his lips touched my forehead, and I couldn't help
shuddering.

Damn it, he felt that.

I could tell he was smiling, could feel his mouth curve. I balled one of
my hands into a fist where it rested against his chest, then I punched
him lightly.

Chuckling, he pulled back, stepping away from me.

"I missed touching you," he said with a wry quirk of his mouth, his
eyes hooded. "This whole week was a case of looking, but can't
touch . It was difficult to behave."

I rolled my eyes, wishing my face wasn't flushed. "As long as you

keep behaving, you can hug me whenever."

He flashed his wide smile, the one that always stunned me. "I like
the sound of that."

I shifted my gaze to the side and saw a family of three looking our
way as they passed us. Well, the father and the child were looking at
me -the woman was staring fixedly at Edward, and she almost
crashed into the man when he sidestepped the small garden area.

"Tiger eyes?" I asked, shifting my stance, wanting to move back, but

also wanting to move closer.

He lifted a hand as if he was going to touch me, then let it drop. "You
remember how I've always been fascinated by your eyes? Well, I've
been calling you Tiger Eyes in my head."

My heart banged.

He'd given me a nickname?

"I used to call you 'Fucker' in mine."

He grimaced. "Hopefully, I've graduated from that."

"I just call you Edward now," I said. "I'd say that's an upgrade."

"Yes." He grinned. "Better."

Cue another staring match, which he won as my eyes slid to the

building behind him. If his beauty wasn't enough to do me in, the soft
way he was looking at me definitely was.

"Let's go meet Wellington," he said, and held out his arm.

"Wellington?" I laughed.

"He's the Shedd's oldest penguin. I read up on him before we came."

"Of course you did."

Wellington, and the rest of his penguin family, were located on the
second lower level, so we decided to begin our tour there. Not
halfway down the stairs, we heard what sounded like the braying of
donkeys, the nasal honking of geese, and kazoos, of all things.

The low-lit room we came down into was a dark semicircle with
azure-colored water rising behind glass observation windows, giving
it a dusky, oceanic feel. It almost felt like another world. I also
noticed a slight tang of fish scent in the air, and heard the distant
hum of motors break through when the noise of people and birds
briefly slackened.

A small crowd stood at the largest of the windows, which overlooked

a huge boulder descending into the water. There were a few
penguins standing on the rock, their bills pointed up to the sky as
they made their honking kazoo sounds. Another penguin was
waddling toward them languidly, as if it was a recalcitrant child being
called by his parents. A white oval shape with an outstretched neck
zipped past the window, webbed feet pressed together and moving
like a fish fin, and I realized it was one of the penguins. It was
followed by a dolphin, who jumped out of the water playfully amid a
scattering of surprised cries from the audience, before resuming his
swim.

My breath caught as Edward took my hand, then laced his fingers in

between mine. Tingles raced up my arm as he pressed our palms
together.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

More than okay.

"Yes," I replied, and gave his hand a squeeze.

When it was our turn to stand in front of the glass, Edward moved
behind me protectively. He was so close that if I had leaned back
even a couple of inches, I'd have been nestled against his chest and
stomach. Half of my attention was on him, half on the penguins and
geese and other birds, who did their unerring best to grab my
attention.

"There's Wellington." Edward's mouth was at my ear, his arm

extended over my shoulder as he pointed. His leather jacket
squeaked softly and brushed against my back. "That little penguin
with the yellow eyebrows? And the yellow tufts sticking out behind
his ears? He's going to be thirty-five this December."

A bit dazed, I looked where he indicated and found a little bird with
flippers resting at his sides. He stood silently on a ledge near the top
of the boulder, hooked beak upturned slightly, seeming to survey his
domain of aquatic fowl with critical eyes. Edward shared a little more
about him, charming me with his knowledge, and entrancing me with
the sound of his voice. Then, in a self-deprecating tone, he admitted
that one of Wellington's offsprings was named Edward.

"Well, his father's a Wellington, so they couldn't exactly name him

Tom or Flipper," I joked, my chest warm and light. Being here with
Edward made me feel that way, seeming to replace my fears, but I
didn't want to examine the feelings too closely. For once, I just
wanted to be .

"I can't believe they named him Edward, though," he muttered with a
pained grin.

As we moved through the exhibits, we kept hold of each other. I felt

like a giddy schoolgirl holding hands with a boy for the first time. Paul
hadn't really been the hand-holding type, even when we had been
together-together. Afterward, when we became fuck buddies, he
didn't even so much as hold open a door for me. Not that I'd
expected him to, but the gesture would have been nice.

It made me realize that I'd never had the kind of relationship I really
wanted. It made me appreciate what I had now, as we wandered
around the exhibits of beautiful fish in their natural habitats of live
coral, reef rocks, grasses, and driftwood, chatting lightly about
whatever came to mind. He thought my platform sneakers were
ridiculous but sexy. I asked him to tell me about his bomber jacket-he
bought it on sale three years ago at a place called Ava and the Boys.
He had never seen Finding Nemo, which I thought was a travesty;
and we were both having a sudden craving for fish for lunch.

When we came to the jellyfish exhibit with its pitch-dark habitat, lit
above by hidden lights, I couldn't help gasping. Jellyfish had always
fascinated me, and it was the same now as I stepped close enough
to almost press my nose against the glass. Both my hands rose
against the observation window as I followed the path of a
translucent, pink umbrella shaped bell with its tentacles trailing. In
my mind, I heard the wistful beginning piano chords of Clair de Lune.

"I think I've found one of your weaknesses," Edward said.

My eyes snapped up to his faint reflection in the glass.

"I swear I just heard Clair de Lune now," I breathed, and he moved
close enough to press his hand on mine, inserting his long fingers
between mine. Just beyond our hands, a gossamer blue bell
propelled itself delicately past.

"I can play it for you anytime you want," he murmured, using the
sides of his fingers to stroke mine. "Tonight. Or whenever. I don't
want to pressure you. I just want you to know I'm here."

I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was deadly intense again,
and was pathetically glad I couldn't see his eyes, because I was
close to falling into a puddle at his feet. Resisting him face-to-face
when he was like this was going to be difficult, if not impossible.

"Okay," I whispered, turning my head to his side. Something he took

immediate advantage of when he ran the tip of his nose along my
hairline, his warm breath a caress against my cheek.

"Edward," I said shakily, and he stepped back slowly, as if reluctant

to do so. When I turned to face him, he was flashing his devastating
smirk and his hands were raised.

"We're not at work," he said, but there wasn't a hint of apology in his
voice.

"But we're in a public place," I said, eyeing the group of kids heading
our way.

His smile widened, and the ground beneath me seemed to tilt. "Then
let's go to a not-so-public place. I know a little hole-in-the- wall
trattoria that won't be crowded."

I swallowed, feeling how wide my eyes were. "We haven't seen the
tortoises yet."

He cocked his head at me and dragged a finger down my cheek,

where he paused to cup my chin. "Are you really interested in seeing
the tortoises?"

What tortoises?
I shook my head, and he captured my hand again, raising it to his
lips. As he pressed a kiss to my knuckles, his eyes were on my
mouth, and I knew… I knew in his mind, he was pressing a kiss
there. I couldn't help myself, and I licked my lips, which made his
heated gaze snap up to mine. And then we were trading looks,
energy snapping like a whip between us.

Yeah, I wanted him, too.

Shit.

But what had I expected? I was already attracted to him, and I knew
how dangerously charismatic he was. I knew before I'd left this
morning that I wasn't strong enough to withstand his silken words,
the power of his eyes, his earth-shattering touch. Oh, it was so unfair
of him to use touch on me, too.

On the heels of that thought, a child nearby began wailing long and
loud, and I jolted back to the moment to see Edward rubbing a hand
on the back of his neck as though he was uncomfortable.

"Come on," he said, giving the hand he still held a tug. Even when
he was making his way forward, he aimed a look back at me.

"We really shouldn't go to my place," he said in a distracted way.

"No?"

"Don't get me wrong; I want to take you back to my place," he replied

with a breathless laugh as we descended the stairs back to ground
level. "But you'll like where I'm taking you. At least there, you have
half a chance I'll behave myself."

I inhaled deeply as we came out the entrance, trying to regain my

equilibrium, but instead catching a faint whiff of his scent. As soon as
we exited the doors, Edward pulled me to the side and pushed me
back against the brick, the look in his eyes obliterating my fragile
control. One hand rose to the space beside my head, while the other
cupped my cheek, his thumb caressing the skin there. He looked
amused, then almost angry, confusing the hell out of me.

"This isn't the place for a kiss," he muttered, his eyes shutting briefly
in a pained way. "Certainly not for our first one. You have to stop
looking at me that way."

My eyes dropped to his mouth. I could feel that I was almost panting,
and now that he'd mentioned a kiss, it was all I could think of. "What
way is that?"

"That way," he groaned, then stepped back. Away from me.

I tried to hide my disappointment; even though I knew what he said

was true. It probably wasn't a good place to stop and kiss, but I
wouldn't have minded; I wouldn't have even noticed. I dug my teeth
gently into my lower lip, wondering what it would feel like if it was his
bite. All I wanted was to feel the wet satin of his mouth on mine.

Leaning beside me on the wall, he pulled his phone out to order an

Uber.

"It's just a kiss, Edward," I said on an exhale as he pocketed his

phone again.

Please.

Then, his hand hard around mine again, he tilted his head against
the wall with a short laugh. "It wouldn't be just a kiss, Bella. Not with
you."

"Why not with me?" What the hell did that mean?

He turned his head my way, his eyes searching mine. " I'm supposed
to be the one who can't behave. What happened to the cautious girl
who wanted me to be so careful around people?"

I frowned at him. "We're not at work," I repeated his earlier phrase,

then cast my gaze around us. "No one is paying attention to us, and
you've been knocking down my walls as if they're not even there."

Something close to a giggle came from him before he abruptly raised

his hands to cup and lift my face to his. His expression looked like it
was lit from within, and he was biting back a smile.

"Anticipation," he whispered against my lips. Before I could marvel

that his lips were brushing mine, he was tugging me away from the
wall and down the pavement toward the curved street entrance. It
cooled my head somewhat.

We stopped at the curb, and he dragged me into his arms.

"Sorry I'm being such a tease," he said against the top of my head.
"It's just that it feels like I've been set free from a cage."

"You are a tease!" I laughed. "And you'd better hope I don't

reciprocate in kind."

He pulled me back by the arms to give me an excited look. "Oh,

don't do that, Tiger Eyes. I'd be a goner. Completely at your mercy."

Challenge accepted.

I pouted my lips. "Are you sure you don't want to kiss me now? I
mean, if you're craving the taste of my lips as much as I am yours…
I'll let you do it anywhere."

His eyes darkened and something in my stomach flared.

"Fuck, Bella. I can't-not here. Damn it," he said, releasing me to

scrape a hand through his hair. He even turned half away. "I asked
for that."

When his gaze returned to mine, I felt as overwhelmed as he looked.

"Can't play with fire without getting burned," I murmured, and one of
his hands balled into a fist.
I didn't look away from him, even as cars pulled up alongside us to
expel passengers. I couldn't; my wanting held me firmly in place.
And that seemed to shatter his hesitation. One step brought him up
against me. His hand curled around my waist as he bent over me,
the other cupping my face, thumb underneath my chin, lifting it until
our faces were only inches apart. His eyes were wide and intently
fierce, and it looked like he wanted to devour me. With everything in
me, I wanted him to, and I strained toward him at the same time he
did me. Our mouths touched softly, and I exhaled shakily, my breath
catching.

He drew back a bit and my eyes opened to find his wondering this
time, as if in disbelief. His fingers were gripping hard now, hard
against my cheekbone and chin. Still breathing raggedly, he pressed
his mouth on mine again, another tentative brush of lip on lip, before
he slanted his head and dragged his mouth across mine. Everything
in me responded then, following him move for move. When he
gasped and opened his mouth, I opened mine. We were touching
tongues and moaning, and it was frantic and devastating, and I
finally understood why he didn't want to kiss me right then. This kiss-
it would never be enough for me. He felt so good, so right, and I had
to have more. My hands slid up his shoulders in an attempt to get
even closer, and I pressed forward, flattening my breasts against his
chest. He shuddered, his arm rising from my waist to my upper back,
holding me to him even tighter.

I'd never been kissed like that, as if I was the air he needed, as if he
could never get enough. He was tilting my head, angling it for what
he wanted, and it made me want to give and give to him. Anything.
He was soft and slow, then demanding, tugging on my soul at the
same time his fingers tugged on the back of my hair, pulling, and
now I was shuddering. I moaned and raised my fingers to his hair. It
was soft and thick-

"Ew, gross," a child's voice said loudly next to us, and we sprung
apart as if someone had just dumped a bucket of water on our
heads. Edward's cheeks were flushed, his lips wet from mine, his
hair mussed even more attractively.

A few feet down from us, a young boy pulled on the hand of a
woman who was scowling at us. As they moved down the pavement
from where we stood, I was feeling disoriented and as if I'd been
woken from a good dream. I was also horribly embarrassed, angry
and feeling adrift.

"You're okay," Edward whispered and caressed my cheek, bringing

me back, and my hands rose to grasp his forearms. I needed
something steady to hold on to, and though he looked a little shell-
shocked himself, his expression was open and comforting.

"I didn't know," I began faintly, feeling oddly as if I could cry when I
met his gentle gaze. Didn't know a kiss could be that strong, that
overwhelming, that it would feel like he was filling the empty parts of
me.

"It's okay," he repeated, dragging me close in a hug. "I think I did,

though, and I should have known better. But hey, at least we got the
first one out of the way, right?"

Nose tucked inside of his jacket, my senses still off-kilter, I laughed

weakly. What would I have done if I had known our kiss would be like
that? Would I have done anything differently?

Probably not, I thought as I panted against his chest. Because now

that I had experienced it, I was already craving another, even though
it was a bit scary how I'd lost myself in him.

"It's going to be good, so good," Edward murmured to me, gently

rocking us back and forth. "Just imagine what it's going to be like
when we do that with no clothes on."

Once his words registered, an inferno tore through my body, making

me choke and jerk against him.
"When we're ready," he soothed, laughing in a shaken way. The
smile he aimed down at me was crooked and trembled slightly.

"No more kisses in public," I said grittily, barely recognizing my voice.

He pressed his mouth against the side of my neck, and I gasped

lightly. "No, we'll save them all for when we're alone," he whispered.

I pressed my palms against his chest and pushed away. "None of

those, either. No touching anywhere with lips."

As an SUV pulled up in front of us, he caught one of my hands.

Raising it to his lips in his signature move, he slanted a look my way.
"That, I can't promise," he said, his breath warm against my
knuckles.

I just swallowed and blinked because I was drowning in him.

Their date will be continued next chapter…

Chapter 21
Let's get it on.

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

and Paige and Aileen, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 21

No second-guessing, I told myself. Let yourself enjoy this.

"This is us," Edward said, gesturing toward the SUV idling at the
curb. He opened the back passenger door for me, and I scooted to
the opposite side. He followed me inside, then motioned me back
over to the hump seat with a playful look of censure.

"I want you close," he said, and pressed his thigh against mine.

Since I wanted that, too, I buckled my seatbelt without comment. He

reached over and grabbed my hand, pulling it onto the top of his leg,
close to his crotch. My eyes inched higher…

Shit, stop it.

He bent close. "You're shaking," he murmured. "Are you cold?"

Far from being cold, I exhaled slowly. "It's nerves. I've never… this is
all new to me. I'm not used to you this way in person yet."

That was putting it mildly; I was still a bit breathless, and my blood
felt as if it was cooking inside my veins. Flashes of our kiss-the
sounds he made, the strength of his arms holding me so tight
against him, how he tasted-kept playing on a loop inside my head.

"Let's get you acclimated then," he whispered against my ear, and

my eyes closed as the sensation caused goosebumps to race up my
back. "Truth or dare?"

Caught by surprise, I made a sound of disbelief. " This is your idea?"

"Come on. Play along, Bella."

"Okay, but I'm going first. Truth or dare?"

"Truth," he said. "Always truth."

Do you kiss everyone like that?

As soon as the question popped into my mind, I swallowed hard. But

I had to know.

"Is it usually like that… for you… every time you kiss someone?"

Or is it just me?

Edward sat back and barked out a short laugh, as if embarrassed,

then ran the thumb of his free hand against his lower lip.

"Not like that, no. I thought we'd be good together, but not that good."

His answer had my insides curling up in sweet satisfaction. "It took

you by surprise, too," I whispered.

"We have some wild chemistry, Tiger Eyes."

Wild. Tongues brushing hard, breaths mingling hotly, wet and-

I shook my head.

"When did you realize you were, er, falling for me?" I asked in a rush,
ignoring the fact that it was his turn to ask me a question.

"The night of the karaoke outing," he answered immediately. "When

you walked up to the stage with that look of challenge in your eyes;
you weren't talking to me, but they were. I knew then you were
always going to meet me toe-to-toe. I found that damned attractive."

I remembered the night with a bittersweet bite. He'd seen right

through me, but I had been blind, so blind still.

"I was so angry at you then," I said regretfully.

"I know. That's why I was doing all I could to try to show you who I
was, how I'd changed. It's why I chose the George Michael song-the
song you obviously hated."

"I didn't hate it. That was the problem."

The look on his face was hurting my heart. "But you didn't hear a
word I said."

I leaned my head against his shoulder in apology. "I wasn't ready."

Exhaling softly, he rested his head lightly on top of mine, and we sat
like that for a few moments, until he spoke again.

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth. Always truth," I teased.

"When did you realize you were falling for me?"

Tensing, I shook my head. "That's cheating. You can't ask me the

same thing I asked you."
Edward laughed, sweeping a thumb across my wrist's pulse point.
"When have we played by the rules, you and me? Answer the
question. I'd really like to know."

"Fine," I said on an exhale, uneasy at having to admit anything since

I was a chickenshit. "When you started ignoring me. It confused the
hell out of me, because up to that point, ignoring me is what I
thought I wanted you to do."

"Poor Tiger Eyes," he said against the side of my head as he pulled

my arm up to his chest in a kind of hug. "You sure had some painful
truths to face, didn't you? Not only had the bully from your past
changed, but you went and fell for him."

How well he summed up all my inner turmoil.

"Yeah. My life kind of sucked there for a while."

"If it makes you feel any better, so did mine. I was between a rock
and a hard place trying to get your attention and win your trust, and
afraid nothing was going to work. Should I force you to confront me
so we could move past everything, or ignore you in the hopes it
would finally wake you the hell up?"

"Forcing me to do anything isn't a good bet," I warned, aiming a look

up at him.

He was close. Close enough to kiss.

Inclining his head, his eyes closed.

"As I found out when we made it to your apartment that night. You
couldn't run, so your fight instinct kicked in," he said, and I felt the
words against my lips.

I moved closer. "Um hmmm," I breathed against his mouth, pressing

forward, aching to feel that sweet heat again…
For a short moment, he pressed his lips softly against mine, giving
them a quick peck before he sat up. Although his eyes were hooded,
they were filled with laughter and apology.

"You're just too tempting," he said with a shake of his head.

Disappointed, I sat back. If not for the seatbelt, I'd have been in his
lap. We were behaving like kids on the verge of making out. Also,
moving as quickly as a young relationship.

"It was just a week ago that this all happened," I said slowly, as the
realization swept through me once more. Our soul baring seemed
like a lifetime ago, but then again, it also seemed like it had just
happened last Saturday. "Are you sure we're not moving too fast?"

He gave me a pointed look. "Does it feel like we are?"

"No. But rationally, yes. Don't relationships that move too quickly
fizzle out?"

"There's no instruction manual or a timetable for relationships," he

said, raising a hand to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. "People
get together when it feels right. But if this doesn't feel right to you, we
can slow it down."

"I'm just putting it out there, that's all. This feels so right that it's
scary."

He shook my hand lightly. "You're overthinking things again, Bella.

We've already had this conversation," he whispered tenderly to take
away the sting. "Nothing's in danger of fizzling out for me. What I've
felt for you is only growing. Are you afraid that what you feel for me
isn't real?"

Was I?

I liked the way Edward addressed my concerns; he was consistently

patient and good at drawing me out, even when I'd been acting
confrontationally. And I liked the way he made me feel-heard,
protected, cared for. I'd never truly doubted that he had only good
intentions. He played a starring role in my dreams, and consumed
my waking thoughts. Being around him made my soul sing; I felt
wonderfully alive.

I'd even felt that way when I thought I still hated him.

You've got it bad, girl.

"No, not at all," I admitted, and his grip around my hand lessened,
making me realize he'd been nervous about my answer.

"I'm a worrier," I told him, hoping to ease any fear. "You'll see."

We pulled up alongside a row of buildings and stopped at the curb.

He smiled gently at me. "I'm a pacifier. You'll see."

Gia's was an inconspicuous brown brick building sandwiched in

between a tattoo parlor and a body repair shop. From the outside, it
looked dingy and almost deserted. The curlicued name of the
restaurant was scrawled in dull gold above a door with a weathered
red canopy.

"Here?" I asked Edward dubiously.

He held open the door for me with a secretive look on his face.

Once I stepped inside and took in the rustic decor and the heavy
wooden ceiling beams hung with amber string lights, I immediately
saw why he'd brought me. It was like walking into a den of intimacy.
Lining both long walls were booths curtained off from each other with
a spectrum of cream fabrics suspended from ceiling rods. Muted wall
sconces shone dimly in each booth, which matched the candle
sitting on each white tablecloth. There were no tables in the center of
the room, but there wasn't really enough space for them.
It was all about lovers, this warm hug of a restaurant with its dark
and dusky piped-in music. It also wasn't the kind of place you'd bring
a blind date to, or even a first date, but like Edward had said earlier:
all the rules seemed to have been thrown out the window. Still, I
almost gaped at him.

"Relax," he crooned, his smirk of a smile widening. "They serve the

best cacciatore here."

I had to laugh. "And all you want to do is hold my hand, right?"

"And maybe steal a kiss or two," he said, pulling me close to place

his mouth briefly on my cheek, which flushed under his lips.

Although only one of the tables was occupied at this early hour, a
hostess wearing a decorative white peasant's top and a full skirt
showed us to a booth at the back. Shortly thereafter, our waiter-
Giorgio -appeared to ask if he could start us out with drinks.

"It's just after three. Too early for Cabernet?" Edward asked.

I couldn't help swooning internally over him; the lighting loved his
hair and strong features. He looked like a golden demigod.

"Not for me," I replied.

Edward stretched his arm across the table, and I placed my hand in
his. The music swelled, and I sighed, unable to keep my eyes off
him.

"You look even more beautiful under this lighting," he said in a low,
gritty tone, his face intense, dangerous.

"I was just thinking the same about you. This lighting would probably
make anyone look more attractive, though."

In answer, his gaze washed over me like silk, and my breath caught.
And then I was unaccountably curious. "How did you, er, find this
place?"

One of his eyebrows rose, and his voice was light when he spoke.
"You think I've been here before. That I'd bring you to a place where
I brought someone else?"

Dropping my gaze to the little candle on the table, I shrugged. I tried

to tell myself that it didn't matter if he'd brought another woman here,
that it didn't matter what he'd done before me, but I was lying to
myself.

"Bella. A friend from college used to work here," he said, matter-of-

fact, squeezing my hand. "It's a classy gem we locals have been
hiding from tourists for over fifteen years, I think. And I've always
wanted to come, but I was waiting for the right person. You are the
first… the only woman I plan to bring here."

Everything he said or did, created a ripple effect deep inside of me,

and it just kept getting stronger. It was both terrifying and exciting.

"You always know just what to say, don't you?" I whispered.

Our wine came then, and he stared steadily at me, clasping my

fingers harder when I went to pull away. While he tried the sip of
wine Giorgio poured, he only briefly broke eye contact. And while
Giorgio poured wine in our glasses, he continued to hold my gaze,
building the tension. I struggled not to look away, because after all, I
was the one who'd thrown the gauntlet.

Finally, Giorgio retreated.

Edward pulled my hand up to his mouth and pressed a lingering kiss

there.

"I don't think you fully understand my intentions yet," he began

quietly. "Maybe it's the worrywart in you, doubting that I feel this way.
But I'll say it every day until it sinks in. I like you, Bella. No, I'm crazy
about you, and I want to be with you. I'm not playing at anything; I'm
being honest. So if you like what you're hearing, I must be doing
something right."

I was dying. Dying.

"I do," I whispered. "Like what I'm hearing. And yes, you are doing
everything right… so very right. It's… I can't… it doesn't seem real.
Are you real?"

His fingers were tracing the veins in my ticklish forearm, sending little
shivers of lightning through my body.

"I put my pants on one leg at a time," he said. "I found out the hard
way that I need to double-knot my sneakers before I go running. I
dislike doing laundry. I make stupid mistakes, like getting too friendly
with you at work. I'm afraid of moving too fast for you. Which means
I'm afraid of losing you."

I shook my head and, reaching out, took his unfurling hand in both of
mine. I curled my fingers around him, stroking my thumbs against his
palm. "You won't lose me. If we can keep talking like this, you won't
lose me."

Edward nodded once, slowly, definitively.

"Let's toast to that."

So we did, and then we toasted to the day so far. Pretty soon, we

were toasting to my eyes, to his jawline, and to the unexpected
power of our kiss. By the time we ordered dinner, I was slightly tipsy
and fighting the urge to climb onto the bench beside him. That fight
lasted halfway through the next glass of wine, until I slid out from my
side of the booth and climbed into his. He welcomed me with open
arms. And the free-flowing heat and magic took over my senses
again as I pressed my wet, open mouth against his, my tongue
sliding against his, until someone cleared their throat delicately.
Fuck, Giorgio.

I was shocked to find I was sitting on Edward's lap, my feet on the

bench beside us, his hand low on my hip, almost cupping my ass.
My hands slid down his chest, slower as I encountered the hard slab
of his stomach muscles- God, if only he was bare -and then Edward
was clearing his throat. Laughing, I slid off his thighs to the side,
putting my feet back onto the floor like the lady I was supposed to
be.

But I felt very much like a woman unhinged really. And I was hungry
in more ways than one.

We traded heavily loaded glances as Giorgio set our plates in front

of us. I loved the fiery look in Edward's dark gaze that he couldn't
seem to keep off me, that his mouth was swollen from my kiss, that
my chin prickled from his stubble.

"Behave," he mouthed at me.

"You first," I mouthed back.

He shared bites of his beef cacciatore with me, and I shared bites of
my mushroom ravioli with him.

And I discovered that holding out forkfuls of food to another was like
foreplay. Although it made me hot and uncomfortable, it gave me a
great excuse to stare at his mouth as he wrapped his lips around the
tines of my fork. I never would have thought watching a man's mouth
was so fascinating, but I was hooked. And wanting more, but he
wasn't a fan of my dish.

"So let me feed you yours," I cajoled, utterly shameless.

I was thrilled to see it seemed to be the same for him as he watched

my mouth, and that he looked dazed and definitely out of sorts after
seeing me accept his proffered tidbit.
That was when we decided that maybe, in addition to kissing in
public, we probably shouldn't feed each other in public.

"Pretty soon, there's not going to be much of anything we can do," I

complained lightly.

"We'll just have to stay home," he growled playfully.

Would this sexual tension be easier to withstand after we finally

made love?

For dessert, we shared a slice of tiramisu, and I got lost in the way
he licked his lips; it was unconscious and done sparingly, and
therefore, fucking sexy. Edward wasn't one to waste a movement, or
a word. Or a moment.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" he asked.

Instant heat.

My mouth opened as I was inundated with feelings and images

being fed through my fuzzy mind.

"We don't have to do anything," he added, misunderstanding my

silence. "I just want you with me… and maybe to hold you."

An embarrassing sound came from my throat. "Yes."

Yes, yes, yes.

And maybe he saw that answer in my eyes as well, because his own
softened, and went all sexy-hooded, lashes brushing those amazing
cheekbones. Then his mouth was slowly widening and curving at my
rapt attention…

I bit my lip.

He pulled it free, then ran the tip of his thumb across it in a languid
way, his eyelids lowering even more, and the look on his face sent
my soul crashing through the roof. He was so achingly beautiful. And
patient, caring, kind, thoughtful, steady, tender, and just plain good,
considering all he'd overcome. It hurt me to think that no one would
ever see those traits in him, especially his parents. My protective
instincts married my desire, then took it for a dip.

Is he my one, too?

It wasn't terribly cold, so Edward had the Uber driver drop us off at
the bike trail on East Randolph Street, and we walked a bit. Hands
clasped, he pulled me gently along Lakeshore Drive. Feeling as if I
was floating through gossamer veils, I smiled up at him as we shared
more about ourselves. He told me about how he'd scored an
unexpected soccer goal against Anthony once, and how the two of
them had fought and laughed over it. I told him about the time Mom
had forgotten to put the lid back on top of the blender, and how
tomatoes and peppers had sprayed all across our bodies, making it
look like a murder scene in the kitchen.

And then… we touched on the painful cafeteria scene when I'd hurt
my elbow so badly after Mom's death. How we'd both gone home
that night and cried ourselves to sleep, little guessing that either of
us could be a relief or an answer for the other, in the future.

Mostly, Edward didn't like revisiting his past. He didn't believe in

regrets, and he wanted us to focus on the present. But I still had
moments to marvel over, to reflect on, to realize fully how much I'd
progressed. Especially when it came to him.

"You're a miracle to me," I told him. "You've come so far. Let me

celebrate it."

His hair attractively tousled by the wind, he met my gaze with

something that looked like adoration. That look made old emotions of
hate and anger feel like a dream, really. Their sting had diminished in
the power of the here and now. Every touch, every look from him,
told me that in a thousand words. And I could have cried, but I
smiled instead as I held his hand tight, so tight.
"Why are you looking at me that way?" he wanted to know.

"Why wouldn't I?" I asked, using his method of answering a question

by asking one.

Silly man. Take me to your bed. Please. That was my only thought
as we entered his building.

We moved right past the doorman, right past security, our coats
slung over our shoulders, so close that our forearms were pressed
tightly together. It was a great way, I realized, to feel each other's
pulse. It figured Edward would know that. He was so tactile… which
was odd considering the lack of it in his own life… which meant that
maybe, maybe it wasn't so odd after all.

I'll touch you so sweetly, I promise.

We toed off our shoes and left our coats hanging on the rack beside
his front door. The cherry wood cabinets, the floor to ceiling
windows, the plush rugs, were all a blur to me as we walked through
his place. He was the only thing I could see: the way his hair was
falling across his brow; his heavily lashed, sleepy eyes; the flush
from the cold on his cheeks; how I had to crane my neck slightly to
meet his gaze.

"Do you want something to drink?" he asked.

"No."

I just want you.

"You don't want any water?" he asked again, throatily this time.

I shook my head at him as I moved in close, taking his hands in mine

and raising them to my lips, where I placed open-mouthed kisses
along the knuckles. He shivered, his eyes closing before he opened
them questioningly.
I let my eyes do the talking, as he let his eyes do the talking
sometimes.

He exhaled in a shaken way. Looked at me almost in stunned

disbelief, which turned my heart over in my chest. It was as if he
couldn't believe I'd really want him. But I did, with everything inside
of me. This was going to be a good thing, so good. A baptism.
Another one for us.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

He twisted his hands in mine, then pulled me forward. His lingering,

explorative touch slid up my arms, my shoulders, to my neck, and
under my chin. His forehead was knotted in concentration, his eyes
dark with want, and I was breathless with anticipation at his kiss all
over again.

When his mouth came against mine, it was slow and soft, but
claimed me thoroughly until I was freefalling again, caught up in his
scent, heat, and touch. I sighed raggedly, my lips slipping against his
wetly, my tongue sliding against his. Raising my hands to his wrists, I
held on for dear life as he dragged his mouth back and forth over
mine, and sensation coursed through my body like fire. Setting me
on fire. Releasing my hold on his wrists, I pushed my hands up his
chest, to his broad shoulders. He groaned when my fingers found his
hair and tugged, and then I was being hoisted up into his arms.

"Wrap your legs around me," he whispered, his wide palms cupping
my ass as my legs slid around his waist.

In his arms, I felt weightless. We were clumsy as we kept kissing,

and he had to pause often, but eventually, we made it into his
bedroom. The ceiling to floor windows revealed the setting sun,
painting us in reddish gold as he stood beside the bed, his hands
gliding up my thighs as I cupped his jaw in mine. One arm banded
across my back, he held me against his chest as he let me slide
down his body, yet not releasing me. For some reason, he seemed
to have slowed down, just wanting to hold me there against him as
we shared the same air.

"I've wanted this for so long," he murmured against my mouth, his

lips traveling across my face, ruffling my eyebrows, then pressing
against my cheekbone. "Wanted you for so long."

Not content to let him do all the kissing, I pressed my lips along the
slant of his jaw. "You can have me." I panted and bit the lobe of his
ear, making him gasp.

He bent slightly, lowering my feet onto the floor. Running the palms
of my hands down his chest as I went, I barely had time to feel the
dips of his stomach before he brought me in close to him again, his
arm curving around my back, fingers digging into my waist. Gently,
sweetly, he hugged me at the same time he lifted my chin. The look
on his face-dark, desperate eyes, deeply flushed cheeks, open
panting mouth-nearly undid me as our hungry mouths met again. My
breath was shuddering, and his pants were feeding me as mine fed
him.

The hand cupping my chin lowered to my collarbone, his fingers

tracing the skin there, leaving a trail of fire. He began undoing the
buttons of my sweater, and I ran my hand down his chest to his
stomach, pushing my fingers under the hem of his shirt. His smooth,
hot skin jumped under my touch, and I was thirsty, so thirsty, for a
glimpse. My palm skirting up the hard shelf of his muscles, I lifted the
material, feeling my mouth fall open at the sight of his carved
stomach.

Cupping his hands around my bare trembling shoulders, he

smoothed the sweater off my body, then yanked off his own. Nearly
panting in excitement at his beauty, my fingers splayed wide, I
moved my hands across the planes of his stomach and up his chest.
My lips and tongue followed, adoring each ridge and hollow, and I
could have spent all night doing it. He let me explore, but only for a
moment until his fingertips ran down my back to my stomach, his
knuckles brushing against me as he undid the button of my jeans.

Eyes hooded, lashes sweeping his cheekbones, he ran his palms

down my hips to my thighs, watching as I kicked my pants off and
aside. I was in simple lingerie, in a bra that did nothing to hide my
hardened nipples, but it was as if the sight of me was undoing him.
Before he caught me up against him again, I thought I saw his eyes
fill with tears.

"It's okay," I whispered to him. "We're really here."

I pulled back, and our eyes met and held. With a ragged inhale, his
hands rose to cup my face, his expression impossibly tender. He
pressed his forehead against mine, then kissed me, and it felt like a
benediction, gradually building, until I could have died at the intensity
of it.

As if I was something to be cherished, his hands moved down my

neck to my shoulders and back to unclasp my bra, leaving
goosebumps in his wake. Inch by inch, his fingers traveled down to
my ass before he cupped it, catching me up against him again with a
growl. For long moments, he held me that way as we kissed and
kissed, my adoration for him overflowing.

Then, the rough material of his jeans skimming my inner thighs as he

lifted me, he laid me back against the bed's cover. I was slow to let
him go as his head lowered to nose aside my bra. As his mouth
covered me there, I arched with a cry, holding him to me as his teeth
lightly skimmed my nipple. My thighs lifted, my feet scrabbling
against his still clothed hips, wanting him bare and against my naked
body.

"Edward, please," I gasped.

He eased his way down my stomach, gently forcing my legs to

release him, his breath tickling as he swirled his tongue on my skin.
His fingers encircled my calves, almost in a massage.
"I want to kiss you all over," he breathed when he reached the
crease at my hip.

"Only if I get to do the same to you," I panted back, but I wasn't sure
if he heard me, and then I was beyond caring when he pressed a
kiss to the front of my thong. Moving forward, both hands on the
inside of my thighs, he ran his nose across the top of my clit. I felt
how wet I was there as he inhaled deeply. Barely had I registered
that thought when his teeth encircled my clit, biting me softly, and it
was like he'd just set a bomb off as I wrenched spasmodically
against him.

He was whispering again, words I couldn't hear, before his tongue

flattened and lapped at me there. Colors of red and rose exploded in
my mind as a heated sensation raced up my spine. My fingers
twisted in his hair, my heels digging into the mattress. He began
kissing me there, teasing me by withholding his tongue, and only
when I cried out his name did his kissing disintegrate into something
I really felt. Through the thin material of my thong, I felt the heat of
his stroking tongue, and I wanted more.

My fingers left his hair to pull at the straps of my thong, yanking at

them until one side tore.

"Please," I implored, and he answered me by pulling the scrap of

material to the side.

I saw the look of utter concentration on his face, the look of triumph
in his wicked eyes, before he bent his head again. He was still
looking at me as he took his first lap, and I shuddered and shivered
at the slick feeling of his hot tongue sliding against me. His breath
was shuddering too, and I was being wound tighter and tighter as he
teased me lightly, then drove me hard. He somehow knew when to
lick long, when to pause, when to tease.

I was vibrating, heading toward a shivery release when one of his

fingers entered me right below where he was tonguing me. I gasped
as he went in deep, then deeper still, and began stroking me hard
and high.

And I was fighting against his hold, my body twisting and rising as a
pulsing began to throb low in my stomach. A climbing tidal wave was
coming, and I was shaking, unable to stop moving, unable to do
anything but feel the wave. It coursed through my body, expanding
and growing stronger as it built. I tried to pull back, but Edward bore
down, forcing the tide, forcing his tongue and his touch against me
until the wave crashed up inside me and I screamed.

It diminished slowly in power, receding like a water's ripple…

bringing me gently back to myself as I shook and panted under
Edward's body.

"Easy, easy," he told me as he caressed my cheek.

I sobbed, not understanding his words at first, feeling split apart and
reborn. I wanted to tell him, but my mouth was trembling along with
my body, and I couldn't talk.

He pressed his lips to mine, and I tasted myself-earthy, musky, slick.

I clutched at him, my fingers digging into his strong shoulders, trying
to find purchase and reason.

"God. I've never-I've never-what-"

"It's just me making love to you," he said, his lips at my temple, then
at my cheek.

My shaking hand rose to smooth across one of his eyebrows, and

his eyes closed, but not before I saw how intense and fearless and
hungry he looked. It sparked my desire again.

A part of him was already there, but-

"I want you inside of me," I breathed.

His face tense, he uncurled his body from me, and his gaze swept
my nakedness in a fiery look that scorched my skin. Our eyes held
as his hands made short work of undoing his jeans and shoving
them down his hard-cut thighs. The more skin he revealed, the
harder I began to breathe.

He was so utterly perfect, standing there in the sun's dying rays,

allowing me to look my fill. He was tall, starkly masculine with a
broad flaring chest, well-muscled, but not overly so. The cut lines of
the V low on his stomach led into his black boxers, which were bent
out of shape. He was so long that the tip of him was peeking from
behind the band, and I licked my lips, something that made him
groan.

"Tiger Eyes," he whispered, and his voice had a shaky, dark edge.

In answer, I let my thighs widen invitingly, and he swallowed hard.

He moved fast after that. Thumbs hooking into his waistband, he

yanked down the briefs and his cock sprang free. It was long and
straight, slightly curved at the tip, and I was aching all over again.

Clumsily, he staggered to the stand beside the bed, where he

wrenched open a drawer.

"I'm clean," I said. "And I have an IUD."

He swallowed visibly. "Are you sure?"

"As long as you're clean, too. Yes."

"I am. I haven't been with anyone in over a year."

"Me, either," I said, as he came to kneel between my legs on the

bed.

Grasping the remnants of my thong, he pulled it off me and flung it to

the side. As I did with my bra, and then we were both completely
exposed to the other, in every way.
His hips were warm on the inside of my thighs as he moved in close,
and I was unable to look away from him. From his eyes. From the
fearless, raw intensity that told me again and again how much I was
adored.

We both cried out at the first touch of his skin sliding carnally against
mine, our hands fighting for dominance over each other's body. His
fingers curled in, sliding down to cup my ass, holding me in place as
he slid himself, oh God, between my wet lips. Flattening my palms
against the warm silk of him, I ran them down his sides, to his
buttocks, digging my nails into him. Please.

His open mouth was pressed to mine again, our tongues, our
breathing, not so polite now. I tried to press closer to him, wanting
his full weight on me and inside of me. Suddenly, he was there, the
smooth tip of him heavy, warm, lightly pushing.

"Look at me," he murmured.

He took my hands in his, interlacing our fingers, pinning me to the

bed. Then, brow furrowed in concentration, he slid into me with a
guttural groan. I arched underneath him with my own cry as he filled
me.

"Fuck," he whispered raggedly, his eyes closing as if in pain.

When he opened them a moment later, dazed, vulnerable, and on

fire, my own were filled with tears. I was scared by how undone I felt.
I hadn't known it would be like this with him. Hadn't known it would
feel so intimate, so right. The look on his face, in his eyes-he was
giving me something I'd never felt before.

Seeing my emotion made him emotional, too, and we kissed again

as he began rocking slow and gentle into me. We were a conduit of
electricity completing the other, feeding off each other. Incredible
warmth was suffusing my body from the inside out, and it was as if I
was this uncontrollable inferno growing ever higher as he moved in
me.
"You feel so good," he said, as he caught one of my legs behind the
knee and raised it, kneeling up high.

My dreams of this moment had been a pale gray. I hadn't expected

the connection that was tightening my throat. I hadn't expected the
easy, slick movements of his hips, or how right he fit inside. Hadn't
expected how he'd look at me, how it would make me feel;
everything felt so powerful, almost overwhelming.

The look in his eyes answered me-he was right there with me, and
he caught me, then chased me deeper with another hip roll that had
me arching against him.

His movements were hitting that spot inside me again. And he knew
it, he felt it and saw it on my face, because he began moving the
same way over and over. It was beyond anything I'd ever felt with
anyone, and I might die this time, though, I might die. Every slide of
him inside me was bringing me closer to the brink. It was almost
terrifying, this unraveling of myself.

"I can't, I can't, I can't," I began to babble.

"Yes, you can," he breathed heavily against my ear, and I moaned

long and hard. "Let go."

He pressed a kiss against my temple, then raised my ankle to his

shoulder. I gasped and choked as his strokes hit harder, the force of
them causing an untamed reaction inside. The slick heat of him, the
impossible rising pleasure, had my free foot scrabbling against the
bed, pushing me headlong into the wave. I could tell that he was
starting to lose control, too. He was trying to focus all that incredible
intensity on me, but losing it at the edges. And Edward losing it was
a sight to see-cheeks flushed, eyes dark and growing hazy, his
mouth fallen open in passion.

It sent me over the edge, the look on his gorgeous face, and I
clenched and twisted under his hold. The pleasure thrummed deep
through my body, the force of it bubbling over me, wringing me dry
from the inside out. If I was dying, I was dying happily. I screamed
his name because it felt so good.

He began shaking along with me, inside of me, his voice a baritone
to my alto as we gave in to the ecstasy. Our bodies were quivering
against each other, warm and slick with sweat. And then our stiffly
held poses dissolved; we curled into each other, our mouths open as
we panted against each other's skin. Rolling over, he pulled me
close into his chest. Still feeling the vibrations of after-shock, I
nuzzled into his neck, pressing my lips against him.

Gradually, we came back from the bliss to ourselves and to each

other, to find that we were laughing softly through tears of exertion
and release.

And we were broken by and rebuilt by each other all over again.

A/N: I have a Group on Facebook called Powered by 23 Kicks

Fanfiction where I've been sharing teasers and other fun stuff. Come
join us!
Chapter 22
Awww, neurosis.

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

and Paige and Aileen, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 22

It was dark when I woke to find moonlight streaming across the

bedsheet covering our bodies. My cheek was wet and pressed
against Edward's chest, my breasts flattened against his side.
Moving slowly, I lifted my head, and his arm slid from my shoulder to
the bed behind me. He looked beautiful under the moon's rays; the
silver light picked out his ridiculously long eyelashes and highlighted
the lower pucker of his lip, just begging to be kissed.

Sighing, I leaned forward to press my lips softly against his. Under

my touch, he moved slightly, then with his own sigh, rolled over onto
his side, leaving me facing his back. Nonplussed at first, I then
realized he wasn't used to having someone else in his bed.

I couldn't help smiling as I scooted close, my pelvis against his hard

ass, my breasts against his back. Propping myself up on my elbow, I
stretched my free arm across him and pressed my hand against his
stomach. Spreading my fingers, I lowered my palm against his hard,
smooth warmth, following the hair of his happy trail down, down,
down, until I reached the heavy softness of his cock. I cupped him,
lightly squeezing until he began to lengthen and harden. With
another sigh, he bucked into my grasp, but he was still asleep-
hopefully dreaming sweet dreams.

When he was hard enough, I brought my hand up to my mouth and

spat into it, licking myself liberally, then returned it to his cock. I slid
my palm up and down the steel heat of him, grasping him at the tip
and turning my hand a bit. With a gasp, he jerked awake, his head
turning to shoot me a fiery look.

"Bella," he groaned, hardening further, thrusting into my palm.

I kissed the skin on his shoulder, then nipped at him as I continued

grasping his cock in my slippery hand. I didn't even have to move; he
was moving for both of us, thrusting in and out of my hold. His hand
came up to cup around mine, and then he was moaning under both
our grips. I was so turned on that I throbbed, moaning with him as
the tip of him began to flare and swell.

"Jesus," he gasped, then moved our hands to the base of his cock,
pausing and squeezing. "That could have been embarrassing. No, I
want to come inside you."

Without warning, he turned over, forcing me with a squeal onto my

back. Grinning wickedly, he pressed a hard, wet kiss to my lips.
Then, grasping my shoulder and one of my legs, he flipped me over
to my side. He scooted in close behind me, knees bending behind
mine, his cock against my lower back. Pressing a hand against me,
he moved me forward as he tugged me backward by the hips. I felt
him hot and heavy between the crack of my ass, and then he moved
himself back and forth against me there.

His mouth was against my ear. "Are you sore?"

I moaned and shook my head, and he lifted my thigh over his,

leaving me open to him. Shivers raced up my spine. Feeling him
nudging my slick entrance, I tilted my pelvis invitingly. He answered
by thrusting deep inside with a low groan, his fingers grasping my hip
hard.

"Fuck," I cried out and grasped the pillow nearest me. "Oh, fuck."

He groaned again, sliding his lower arm beneath me, his hand
curling up to anchor me by the shoulder. The hand at my waist
moved around to my clit as he began bucking and circling into me,
but I could tell most of his attention was focused on me. His fingers
made a fork around himself where he entered me, then, slippery and
sliding, he used his thumb against my clit. Although he was still
gyrating behind me, he allowed me to set the pace, allowed me free
movement to chase my release. It was as if he knew my body, knew
what it wanted; he was so good at giving it to me, and I took it
greedily. Like him, I was already on the edge of climax, and the
barest touch sent me flying over it.

Barely had the cries left my throat before he took over, his
movements jerky and erratic. I could feel him swelling just before he
cried out gutturally, his fingers grasping my hip and holding me to
him as he released inside of me.

Afterward, he ran a hand across my ass gently, then gave me a little

spank.

"You little," he breathed, and bent his head to kiss me.

"I'm so horny," I said between his kisses. "You stopped me from my

one-night stand, remember?"

He growled darkly, then glared down at me. "You didn't know what
you were doing."

"Yes, I did," I told him. "I knew exactly what I wanted… what I
needed. I think it was all the frustration of being around you that
made me feel that way, though. Now, I don't think… anyone but you
could have satisfied the itch."
Flashing me a wolfish grin, he cupped me firmly down there as he
pulled me tighter against his body. "Damn right. Nobody but me."

Then we're kissing deeply again, our tongues taking turns at

dominating the other's. Not content or really comfortable enough to
keep kissing him from over my shoulder, I rolled over onto my back.
Aiming one of those intensely fierce looks at me, he settled in close,
his hand coming up to frame the side of my face as he pressed his
mouth against mine.

"Nobody but you," I sighed against his lips, and felt the truth of it
bone-deep. I ran the tip of my thumb across his eyebrow, my heart
full of adoration for him. He'd somehow worked his way into my
thoughts, into my blood, and was now prying at my heart.

Teasing me with the tip of his nose, he moved to my cheek, then ran
it down the side of my neck. I shivered and clutched at his shoulders.

"Are you hungry?" he asked against the underside of my chin.

I couldn't help giggling at the unexpected question. "I could eat

something."

Quirking a half smile at me, he climbed to his knees and pulled me

up by the arm. Then, sliding off the bed, he tugged me after him,
right into his arms. For long moments, he just held me against his
naked chest, his fingers stroking through my hair.

"I'm glad you're here," he murmured. "I almost still can't believe it."

"So am I," I answered, pressing a kiss to his chest over his heart.
"It's odd the way things turn out sometimes, isn't it? You. Me. Six
months ago, never in a million years would I have thought this is
where I'd be today."

"Yet here you are," he said, bringing his lips to my hairline, leaving
little kisses there in between the words he spoke. "In my arms. All
mine."
Warm and giddy, I sighed and basked under his attention.

He released me, then walked to a chest of drawers, where he pulled

out a sweatsuit. Handing me the top to put on, he tugged on the
bottoms. I ran to the bathroom with the shirt and cleaned up, then
met him in the kitchen.

We celebrated our second midnight together with turkey sandwiches

and Gatorade poured into wine glasses. Even as I sipped at my
drink, I couldn't keep my eyes off him. But the look he was aiming my
way was devilishly sexy; he wanted me looking at him. Bare from the
waist up, and with that look on his face, he was sex incarnate. I
didn't even need to wear pants to keep warm; he made me so hot.

Afterward, he pulled me to sit beside him on his piano seat, and he

played for me: "Clair de Lune", "Morning Mood", and something else
that had me teary-eyed and leaning against his side.

When he carried me to bed, we made love all over again-slow and

deep-and I knew I was losing myself in him. To him.

"Stay with me tonight," Edward said Sunday afternoon as we

lounged on his couch watching movies on Netflix. "Again."

Considering it, I bit my lip. My God, oh how I wanted to, but…

"Shouldn't we… desensitize ourselves a little?" I wondered. "We

have to go to work tomorrow." The words came out slower as I went,
because I was starting to worry a little. "I can't be sitting at my desk
smelling like you. And you can't look at me that way, either."

He brought the hand he was holding to his lips for a kiss. Then, he
began running his thumb over my wrist soothingly.

"I won't put you in a compromising position, Bella. I heard you when
you warned me about being too friendly," he said, his tone as low
and serious as mine had been. "I know what's at stake here, and I'll
behave."

Could we, though? Could we really? If we messed up, it wasn't going

to be intentional.

"I'm afraid I might not be able to," I confessed with a catch in my

voice. "How can I possibly look at you with a straight face across the
conference table now?"

"Compartmentalization," he said. "We both need to keep our

involvement, our emotions, separate from our working relationship."

"Compartmentalization," I repeated with numb lips. "Yeah. I don't

think I'll be any good at that."

At my tone, his fingers grasped my hand tightly.

"We can do it, because we have to do it. It'll be similar to…

swallowing the pain of a lost loved one," he told me. "You lost your
mom and I lost Anthony. It's always there with us, but we don't
continually wear the emotions of pain and loss on our sleeve. We
endure. We get on with it and do what we need to do."

Enduring. Yes. That's exactly how it would feel.

He pulled me into his arms, and I sank against him limply. My body
was already feeling the ghost pain of separation and the
awkwardness of having to hide it, already feeling the fear of making
a mistake. And that was only after one night. Fuck.

"This is going to suck," I said.

"Yes, but at least we're together now. We don't have to worry about
feelings of anger or hate anymore. And, we only have to suck it up
during the day," he said lightly. "You have my support, just as I'm
sure I have yours. We can do this, Bella."
Although I was doubtful of my ability to do so, I nodded my head
against his chest, inhaling his scent, as if it were a drug I'd soon feel
the loss of intensely. As if I were a baby needing consolation, he
caressed the back of my head, then ran his fingers down my back.

"Okay. Okay. I can do this," I said, and sat up, trying to convince
myself. "I like my job. I don't want to lose my job. Or the respect of
my coworkers."

He considered me with a look of trepidation, and my heart squeezed.

" What?"

"We need to think about telling Stuart and Colin," he said, his tone
low and cautious. But it didn't matter; the meaning behind the words
still made me lightheaded.

"Even though you and I are going to be careful to conceal our

relationship while we're at work, someone could easily see us when
we're off of work," he continued in the same gentle voice. "And it will
go badly for us if someone else reveals us first."

My heart began pounding. "Badly… how?"

"Colin would feel as if I betrayed his confidence and trust. After all,
he already knows about our high school relationship. That's
noteworthy already. But Stuart? He'd be furious, thinking we were
trying to hide something. And he'd be right."

His hands came up to frame my cold, numb face. "This isn't

something we can legally hide from them. We are required to divulge
our relationship to the company."

"But… but there's nothing to tell yet," I whispered. "We just… started.
I hardly know what I'm feeling, and I sure as hell don't want to try to
explain it to anyone."
The air I was dragging in was cold. I was panicking, and hating it,
hating myself, too, because I should have anticipated this next step.
It wasn't as if we hadn't already discussed it, but contemplating the
situation was entirely different from actually being in it.

"Baby, we don't need to explain our emotions," he told me, his

thumbs stroking my cheeks soothingly. "Just divulge that we're in a
romantic relationship. Remember Stuart and Olivia? They did just
fine while at work. So will we."

His calm patience was both infuriating and comforting.

"Yes, but Stuart is one of the company's owners . Of course, he

wasn't going to be let go. You and I are different. Expendable . Well, I
am, anyway. I mean, what if we don't make it? What if, say, a few
weeks from now, we're back to feeling as if we're strangers and
wishing we hadn't gotten involved? Then, confessing to a
relationship will have been for nothing."

He cocked his head at me, and my heart stung at the look of hurt in
his eyes. "Do you really think you could let me go? After all we've
gone through together? Aren't you in this with me, Bella?"

Fuck.

"No. I mean, yes! I'm just… I'm just…"

Knocking his hands away from me, I brought my own up to cover my

face.

"I don't feel as if I could let you go," I whispered. "But the thought of
everyone's judgment, their secretive glances, and what they might
say about us, is kind of terrifying me. And I'll be judged harsher than
you will. I can hear it now: Oh, she's sleeping her way up the totem
pole. It's embarrassing, the thought of everyone knowing about us.
And so… so damned unprofessional."
His fingers were warm around my wrists and gentle as they tugged
my hands down. His gaze was both fierce and kind.

"We're obligated to declare our relationship to Colin and Stuart, not

to our co-workers. Colin and Stuart will keep what we share in the
strictest of confidence."

"But people will find out," I insisted. "They always do."

"Maybe. Regardless, no one thought Stuart and Olivia behaved

unprofess-"

"Because it was Stuart," I interrupted again. "One of the company

owners. I'm sure he got respect that we won't."

"Their behavior didn't allow for any disrespect," he continued firmly.

"And there's no reason why we shouldn't be able to do the same.
Bella, there's company precedent for this kind of relationship, which
means divulging it isn't grounds for dismissal. And if Colin and Stuart
can accept us-and they will -who cares what anyone else thinks? If
you and I are happy together, who else matters?"

Damn, he was shooting unerring arrows at all of my protests.

Speechless, I looked at him with tears in my eyes.

"Can you repeat what I've just said?" he requested, wiping a tear
from my face. "So I know you understand?"

"I get it. No one else's opinion should matter to me, as long as the
partners accept us, and as long as we're happy together," I
whispered.

"You get it. But do you believe it?"

I considered his question.

If… when the partners accepted us, I'd probably collapse from relief.
Edward had every confidence that they would. And if anyone else
found out and made their disapproval known, I'd have Edward to
lean on. I… I could deal with it since I'd have him.

"I do," I admitted. "I believe what we have is worth anything we might
have to deal with. I promise, I do. But I just think you might… might
be coming at this all a bit naively, that's all. I'm scared, okay? I know
other people's opinions shouldn't matter."

"They absolutely don't."

"I just don't trust myself."

"You don't trust yourself how?"

I dragged in a ragged breath. "To not moon at you if I meet you in the
kitchen. I'm afraid I'll forget myself during a meeting, like I did this
week. Someone is going to catch me looking at you too long, too
often."

With a hard sigh, he pulled me into his arms. My fingers dug into the
fabric of his shirt and twisted. When he spoke, I felt the cadence of
his words against the side of my face.

"The worrywart in you is overriding your common sense and making

you doubt yourself. But as you said once, you're a consummate
professional at work, and you're not going to screw this up. Both
because you enjoy your job and me," he soothed. "Have a little faith
in yourself, Bella."

I growled softly as my stiff body gradually relaxed at his words. They

didn't totally erase my unease-nothing would until it was all said and
done, and I had proof I could survive it all-but at least my panic was
being held at bay. Then again, Edward was also very persuasive. He
wanted this relationship with me, wanted it to work even while we
shared the same workplace. So of course, he was going to be
optimistic about our chances.
Which meant it came down to trusting him. Because if nothing else,
this conversation was proving that I was in this relationship with both
feet now. Would it be so terrible to believe that working with and
being with Edward could be a success?

It was against my nature to think that way, but I had to try. For both of
us. For my sanity.

"How would we do it? Tell them together?" I asked with a sigh.

He was caressing my back again. Still trying to soothe me.

"I'd ask them to meet us for dinner one night during the week. Maybe
at Roanoke's, that's a nice place."

"Wouldn't they… know something was up?"

"Oh, I'm sure. But this kind of news is always easiest to break over a
cocktail and a steak. It's how I told Colin about you before the
interview."

I tried to imagine their conversation and couldn't.

"What did he say about that? About our past?"

"He said I might be a masochist, and that he hoped I knew what I

was doing. He's since congratulated me, by the way. He's aware of
your excellent performance."

I took a shaky breath. "I need some time to get used to the idea."

He tightened his hold around me. "Can we think about telling them,
say, next Monday?"

I pulled back from him abruptly as a horde of butterflies invaded my

stomach.

"Oh, baby, you look sick."

"I'll be okay," I said with a groan, then took a few deep breaths.
"Fuck."

Pulling my hands away from his, I stood and walked over to one of
the windows. Below, traffic moved steadily along the ribbons of the
freeway. Wrapping my arms around myself, I studied a yacht that
was sitting in the harbor, trying to imagine Colin Smith and Stuart
Devaney across a dinner table from me.

Would they really accept our relationship?

Edward came to stand behind me. He laid his hands on my

shoulders, giving them a massage. "We're going to handle this like
the adults we are. If we believe we can do this, we can."

"Everything's still so new," I said. "Why can't we have time to get

used to how we are now? Is that so unreasonable?"

"I'm not comfortable waiting, Bella. We should share our relationship

status sooner rather than later. I can give you a week. But as a VP, I
have an HR responsibility. "

I snorted softly. "Wow. A whole week to obsess over what could

possibly go wrong."

His hands moved down to my tight shoulder blades, where he dug

his thumbs into the muscles. As he spoke, he leaned his head down,
pressing his whiskered cheek against mine.

"Or, a whole week to prove to ourselves that we can behave

professionally at the office. A week to solidify our position and how
we feel. We want to be ahead of this and in control."

"I don't feel in control," I admitted.

He shook me back and forth. "I'm giving you what you want: time.
The longer we wait, the more possibility there is for something to go
wrong."
"Yeah," I said dryly. "And then there's that."

His hands moved to my waist and he pulled me back into his chest,
hugging me. We stood like that for a few minutes until he spoke
again, soft and yet certain.

"Like you said: we're worth it. We can do this. Please believe that."

My heart panged, and I squeezed my eyes closed.

"I do believe that. My worries have nothing to do with how I feel

about you, Edward."

"Don't they? Because a while ago, you were afraid that we might not
make it and that we'd be announcing our relationship for nothing."

I stiffened. "We've been together only a day . We've only fucked

twice."

As soon as the thoughtless words spilled from my mouth, I choked

on them and tears sprang to my eyes.

He pulled away from me, and, my mouth gaping, I spun to face him.
His arms hung straight at his sides, and his mouth was turned down
at the corners. A lancing pain shot through my chest as I saw the
hurt in his darkened eyes.

"I'm trying not to take that personally, because I know it's just your
fear talking," he said woodenly. "I can also see you regret it. But
we've been together since the night you told me you forgave me.
Haven't you felt that?"

"I'm sorry," I cried, moving close enough to wrap my arms hard

around his waist. "I'm so sorry. You're right. It's just that I feel like
you're sweeping my worries under the rug. I'm not ready to share
what we are to anyone yet. Why can't you understand that?"

His arms wrapped around my shoulders, and I relaxed against him

with relief. Damn my hotheaded temper.
"What do you want to do then?"

"Can we wait a few more weeks? Until we're both comfortable with…
this new you and me? So I have the confidence of who we are
behind me?"

He sighed softly against the top of my head as he began to rock me

back and forth. "It's not a good idea, Bella. We'd be flouting company
policy, and I absolutely cannot do that."

I squeezed my eyes shut as my heart thudded in disappointment. He

was going to give us a week, and that was it. I didn't like it, but he'd
explained his reasons. And since I was in this relationship, too, I had
to accept them.

"But I'm sorry, also," he continued. "I'm ready to make this official,
but I forget that I'm a few steps ahead of you."

I squeezed my arms around his waist. He was so good at cushioning

the blow, at trying to protect me.

"I'm not that far behind you," I breathed against his chest. Lifting my
head, I gazed up at him apologetically. "Can you kiss me now?"

With a slight smile, he bent his head to mine, pressing his lips softly
there. Standing on my tiptoes, I tried to deepen the kiss, and he
accommodated me. Pretty soon, I was gasping at the way his mouth
and tongue were making love to mine; it was obvious he was trying
to make a point.

"I know it wasn't fucking," I said, and panted as his mouth moved
down my neck. "I know."

"You don't know," he growled. "Not yet, anyway, because I haven't

fucked you yet. Maybe I should rectify that now, hmm?"

My insides leaped and caught fire. "Yes. Please," I moaned.

So he did; he yanked my panties down and off, then took me hard
while I bent over the sofa. It was quick, and almost violent, and he
could have just taken from me-I would have let him. But in the end,
he was unable to do it without making me orgasm first.

"You're such a good guy," I panted afterward. "I really like that."

I more than liked it, actually. Patient, caring, slow to anger, he

somehow knew how to save me from myself. He seemed to
understand me like no one else ever had.

"Yeah? Well, don't forget it," he replied. "I don't want to have to give
you another example of my fucking prowess."

"Oh, come on, Edward." I laughed. "I also really like your fucking
prowess."

We spent the rest of the day on his sofa, and despite his wishes, I
left shortly after nine.

Because I wanted to stay with him too much.

Because I was afraid of needing him too much.

Because in the end, even though it was a huge waste of time and
effort, I was a damned worrywart.

Monday loomed threateningly .

A/N: I have a Group on Facebook called Powered by 23 Kicks

Fanfiction where I've been sharing teasers and the occasional
EPOV. Come join us!
Chapter 23
The best of intentions.

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

and Paige and Aileen, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 23

In a plain black business pantsuit with leather trim, my hair pulled

tightly back from my face into a low chignon, I looked and felt
professionally strong. Maybe even a bit powerful. All I really needed
was a pair of eyeglasses. Which I didn't have, so instead, I raised my
chin and scowled lightly at myself in the mirror.

There you go. Every inch of that girl means business. She's no one's
fool. She's in charge.

Stepping into a pair of black booties, I shook my arms out as if I was

a fighter preparing to step into the ring. Then, I did a little jig across
the floor to the coat closet, raising my fisted hands to punch at the air
as I went. Look out, Rocky Balboa.

I'd researched what it meant to compartmentalize.

First was visualization .

I was going to focus on my work, on the client, on the plan for next
month's message. I envisioned myself sitting calmly in Edward's
presence, head up and shoulders back, dead serious as I paid
attention to what was being said. Hell, I even answered a question in
depth.

Focus on one thing at a time.

On anything but him.

Unless he was speaking.

And then, I'd focus on the words and not his mouth as he spoke
them.

Recognize when you're going too much inside your head.

Well, that would be a definite challenge.

Write it down.

I'd filled a notebook page with my visualizations, feeling as if I was a

school kid who'd misbehaved, and had to write something one
hundred times as punishment.

I will not notice the mole on the side of Edward's neck and want to
kiss it.

I will not notice the mole on the side of Edward's neck and want to
kiss it.

But it helped: my visualizations were circling in my head on repeat.

Edward's plea dipped in and took a bow: Have a little faith in

yourself, Bella.

With my head held high, I pulled on my coat, then slung my bag

across my shoulder.
My phone beeped with a message, and I pulled it out of my bag's
pocket.

Edward: We got this.

Bella: Damn straight. See you there.

His response sent a thrill of pleasure through my body.

Edward: That's my girl.

On the way to work, I noticed details I didn't usually pay attention to:
how the sound of traffic was a gentle roar in my ears, punctuated by
horn blares; how the appraising looks from drivers, both males and
females, gave me an extra boost of confidence; how invigorating the
cold air was; how the smack of my footsteps against the pavement
sounded like affirmations in my head.

You can do this. You can do this .

By the time I reached the building's bank of elevators, I was feeling

warm, loose, and optimistic as I took my place behind the other suits.
I even smiled politely at anyone I traded glances with.

"Don't you look business-like," Jessica greeted me cheerfully as I

stepped inside the office.

"Thanks. But… don't I always?"

She sputtered. "Well, yes, of course. It's just that sometimes you
look… softer, that's all. Do you have a meeting or something today?"

Nice save, Jessica.

"I might," I answered easily, cruising past her desk with a wink and a
smile.

So far, so good.
On the way to my desk, I saw that most of the cubicles I passed
were still empty. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I realized that in
my hurry to get the day started and over with, I had arrived almost
ten minutes early.

Early morning sunlight from a row of windows cast rectangular

patterns on the carpet I walked across. Moving through the
sunbeams was kind of surreal, as was being in the office when it was
so quiet-as if it was the hush before the storm. I soaked in the
moment, allowing it to course through my body.

As I drew near my cubicle, I noticed Edward's office wasn't empty .

My heart leaped and my mouth watered as I caught sight of his
shoulders and strong profile. Especially since he appeared to be
scowling in concentration at his monitor-Edward scowling was
beautifully hot.

As if he felt my gaze or heard my footfalls, his face turned my way.

His expression was curious and then hungry, as if he wanted to
devour me, and my stomach clenched. He flashed me a slow,
meltingly gorgeous smile, and I couldn't help smiling back.
Immediately, I wanted to run to him, to feel the strength and warmth
of his arms surrounding me. To feel the heat of his mouth against
mine.

My throat tightened, because I realized that if I had stayed with him

last night, I'd have had that this morning.

So the desensitization thing obviously didn't work. If anything, not

being with him made seeing him now even worse . Or better.
Whatever. It only increased my yearning because now I craved being
in his space.

Like a laser beam, our gazes held until I reached my cubicle's

doorway… and I slowly turned inside and away.

It was going to be a long day.

There was a cardboard coffee cup from Goodwin's on my desk.
Setting down my bag, I picked up the cup and sniffed the sip hole. It
was a caramel macchiato, still hot. How Edward knew it was my
favorite, I didn't know, but I was happily taken by surprise by his
thoughtfulness.

I hung my coat up, then called his extension. He picked up on the

first ring.

" Tiger Eyes."

My eyes closed at the sound of his voice. It was soft, warm, deep,
and made my insides curl.

"Thank you for the coffee. It's a nice surprise."

" I'm glad. I like taking care of you."

"I wish I'd have stayed with you last night."

" There's always tonight."

"Yes," I breathed. "Please."

" Should we stay at your place this time?"

My apartment was too close to work.

"No, I prefer your place. I'll Uber over once you give me the thumbs
up. In case you, uh, stay late."

" I shouldn't be late. Not too late, anyway. Not if you're waiting for
me."

"Okay."

" Bring a change of clothes. You can shower and get dressed at my
place tomorrow."
"We'll have to arrive separately at work, though," I warned.

" That's fine."

We listened to each other breathe for a few beats, then I heard

footsteps approaching rapidly.

"I have to go," I whispered and hung up.

I turned around in my chair to see who the footsteps belonged to,

and saw Alice. In dark green heels that matched her fitted skirt and
the bag slung across her shoulder, every inch of her looked like a
fashionista. Like usual.

"Good morning," she sang out as she rounded the corner into her
cubicle. As she pulled off her mustard-colored wool coat and hung it
on her coat rack, revealing a loud, green and mustard printed
blouse, she was speaking a mile a minute.

"Jasper and I saw Avatar in 3D this weekend, and oh my God, Bella.

The CGI was out of this world. It was as if we were underwater with
them. I don't know if you've seen the first Avatar movie, but Sully-
he's the main character-has aged mighty fine. If I was into ten-feet-
tall blue kitties, Jasper might be in trouble."

She went on to describe the main plotline, and turning to face her, I
stood and leaned against the top ledge of her wall. Just beyond our
cubicles was the window to Edward's office. He seemed to be
engrossed in what he was doing. Which was sexy, of course.

"Bella?"

I snapped my gaze to her. "What?"

"I asked how your weekend was. Where are you this morning?"

"Sorry," I said, and cleared my throat. "I have the attention span of a
gnat before I've had my first cup of coffee."
Or, before the visualizations of focus have kicked in.

"Well, drink up, girl. We have a full day ahead of us."

I grabbed the coffee Edward brought for me and took a healthy swig.

"My weekend was the same ole, same ole," I said, lying through my
teeth and blushing about it.

With quick, birdlike movements, she pulled her iPad and phone from
her bag, then arched an eyebrow at me. "You need to get out more.
Have some fun. You're too young to spend it alone."

Oh, how I wanted to say that I hadn't spent it alone. That I had the
best, most magical and passionate weekend of my life. That I was
gloriously happy. That I thought I'd found the one . And he was
wonderful, and looking this way.

As it was, I shrugged at her with a smile and swallowed down an

unexpected zing of pain because I couldn't confide in her. Not yet.
Maybe once the uncomfortable prospect of divulging my relationship
status with the partners was over with, I could talk to Alice. As much
as possible, I didn't want her to feel hurt.

Hopefully, I prayed fervently, she won't judge me too harshly.

Behind us, the office was coming alive with people arriving. More
than a few of them were a talkative, gregarious bunch, especially for
a Monday morning.

"Alice! Bella! Good morning," Ben called from a few cubicles down.
His smile was so wide that I thought his face would split in two.

"Ben, good morning." Alice nodded his way with her own smile, then
leaned toward me. "It's so nice not to have to greet the Ice Queen
anymore."

Tanya . She meant Tanya.

I eyed the empty cubicle across from mine, then aimed a glance over
at the other side of the room, where the Advertising Department's
cubicles were.

"I'm sure she'll be a great fit for them," Alice was saying. "Her
interpersonal skills need some work, but she's very creative.
Meanwhile, you and I are absorbing one of her small clients-Bailey's
Bicycle Coffee House. Since they're right here in the city, I thought I'd
go see them this morning. I just need Edward's approval. Would you
like to come with me to see what we're dealing with?"

"Absolutely. But… a bicycle coffee house?"

Grinning, Alice nodded. "I know, right? That's why we need to go see
them."

Thirty minutes later, Edward began making his Monday morning

rounds on the floor to check in with people. As was his habit, and
since it was on the way back to his office, he checked in with Alice
last.

I felt him before I saw him; a sense of hush filled the air behind me,
and all the hair on my body stood up. When I turned my head, I
found him standing at the juncture between Alice's cubicle and mine.
As his penetrating gaze swung my way, I flushed.

Another version of those eyes, dark and needy, popped unbidden

into my head.

"Good morning, ladies," he greeted us, his gaze flicking to Alice,

then back to me.

"Good morning, Edward," Alice said and stood.

I usually didn't stand; I usually just turned to face him from my seat.

Two weeks ago, I would have barely done that.

Say something. Don't just stare.

I cleared my throat and tried to will away my blush. Tried not to
notice how wildly sexy he looked in his navy suit with the matching
tie.

"Good morning," I said, folding my hands primly in my lap.

My heart thudded at his smile.

"So," Edward said, drawing out the word as he briefly studied his
iPad. Watching his hand grasp it made me want his hand on me. "It
looks like today is your initial meeting with Bailey's Bicycle Coffee
Club."

And his eyes flicked up to mine.

Every time he looked at me, it was like a punch to my chest. Damn it,
when would my body stop reacting so viscerally?

As his gaze returned to Alice, I realized he wasn't aware of how

often he was looking at me. Either that, or he was going overboard
trying to include me in the conversation.

"That's right," Alice replied. "Bella and I would like to go meet them
this morning to get a better sense of who they are and what they're
about. Is that okay?"

As she mentioned my name, he eyed me again. Thankfully, not for

long. It was merely an automatic response, but my pulse still jumped.

"That's fine. Bicycles and coffee," Edward said with a wry smile,
shaking his head. "What a combination. They've found an unusual
niche."

"It's original, that's for sure," Alice agreed. Leaning against the top
shelf of her wall, she considered Edward. "They've only been in
business for six months. I spoke with Bob Bailey briefly last Friday,
and he says they've been doing steadily well on the coffee shop
side. Apparently, they hook return clients with their specially brewed
coffees and jewelry made out of bike parts, but they need to focus
more on selling the bikes."

Edward's voice was a low, thoughtful murmur. "They might be

pushing the coffee shop too much and neglecting the aspect of
selling the bikes, so our strategy needs to target the bicycle
purchasers . Who are they?"

"Are bike riders coffee drinkers?" I wondered. "Wouldn't they prefer

water or Gatorade?"

"That's what we need to find out," Alice told me, her eyes flicking
between Edward and me.

Did she notice how often he looked at me? Could she tell my
breathing was too fast?

"We already know Bailey's website needs a boost," she continued.

"But we'll review their current marketing materials. See what their
mission and core values are, and how we can work with that."

"I'll be interested to learn what you find out," Edward said. "Come by
my office when you get back, all right?"

He wasn't looking at me when he said that, and I was momentarily

confused about the hurt I felt at not being included. But I saw his
eyes, downcast as they flicked my way, and knew we both needed to
mitigate time spent together at the office. At least until we learned
how to balance our work and romantic relationship.

I carried his brief parting smile all the way down to the parking
garage, and to the passenger seat of Alice's Toyota Prius. Hugging
my bag to my chest, I sighed with contentment. And satisfaction.

We could do this, Edward and me.

Alice deposited her bag behind the driver's seat and slammed the
door shut. Sliding in behind the wheel, she dropped her keys with a
clatter into the cup holder. Then, she simply sat there with a look of
bemusement on her face.

"Did any of that with Edward seem weird to you?" she asked, and my
heart stopped.

"What do you mean?"

It looked like she was holding back laughter.

"Edward doesn't usually smile that often. Not like he did back there.
If I didn't know better, I'd think he's finally met someone."

I instantly flushed, because I felt the truth bone-deep. It was me.

"I didn't notice, no," I said faintly, digging in my bag for my phone. It
was something to do. It helped hide my eyes, my face. But I felt the
sudden weight of her stare, and tried not to panic because she'd
notice that for sure.

"You and relationships, Alice," I added, shaking my head. "If you had
your way, everyone would be in one."

Finally, I pulled my phone out of my bag. I checked for messages,

but had none.

Why was she still staring at me?

Raising my head, I shot her a look of askance.

There was a crinkle between her eyebrows; she was studying me as

if I was a problem she had to solve.

"What?" I asked.

I watched as her confusion morphed into surprise and dawning

recognition. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened.

"Isabella Swan!"
The pit in my stomach blossomed into a golf ball at her expression-
shock and realization was written all across her face.

"You smiled back at him. I saw you," she said with a note of wonder
in her voice.

I frowned at her, trying to play it cool. "Yes. So what?"

"You never smile at him. You barely look at him. But this morning, the
two of you were engaging as if you were old friends."

"Or co-workers," I drawled as my heartbeat clawed at my throat. "I

told you that he and I talked about our past and came to terms with
it. Maybe what you're seeing is us trying to work better together."

She mashed her lips together as she considered that, and I began to
count the seconds in my head as I fought to control my expression.

Her eyes narrowed, then widened again, as if she was startled by

her thoughts. I could almost see her connecting dots in her mind.

"You were moony last week," she said, the words coming out slowly.
"I thought you'd met someone, but you downplayed it. Like someone
in a new relationship might when they're scared of their feelings. And
you've been acting distracted ever since-you're unfocused in
meetings, staring off into space and sighing-like someone newly in
love would do."

I could feel how stiff my face was, but I forced myself into a smile
despite my raging heartbeat.

I wasn't in love.

It was too early.

"Or, just like someone consumed with a huge problem to solve would
behave," I told her emphatically. "I've been facing a personal issue
for the last couple of weeks, and it's consumed me, that's all. That's
what you're seeing."
Which was the truth-I'd been facing personal issues ever since
starting this job-so it was only a partial lie…

"But what does that have to do with Edward smiling?" I asked.

"I'm getting to that," she answered, moving in her seat to face me

fully. The expression on her face was grave, and I had to resist
leaning back and away from her.

"You've been happy. Upbeat. Not morosely preoccupied over a

problem, I don't think."

I gave her a look of confused impatience, putting on the show of my

life. "Could you please stop psychoanalyzing me? It's more than a
little intrusive."

Bringing her hands up to her face, Alice made a strangled sound.

"I'm not crazy. I'm not seeing things, I know I'm not. But, Bella, this is
serious, if what I suspect is true."

While her face was hidden, I swallowed and took a breath.

She couldn't know. She couldn't. But…

It was going to be difficult, if not impossible, to persuade her from her

epiphany.

Jesus God, help me.

"Alice, I'm not following. What are you saying?"

Her hands lowered, and she pinned me with a dark, knowing stare.

"Do you think I don't recognize the signs of attraction?" she asked in
a gentle, low tone, as if she knew what she was saying was going to
blow up my world. "Especially when both parties are demonstrating
the signs right under my nose."
Oh, shit.

I crushed my bag against my chest as the ocean began roaring in

my ears.

"You're seeing things," I insisted. "Are you crazy? There's nothing.

Nothing between us but a working relationship."

Her head cocked in disappointment and sympathy, and I blinked

back tears of fear and frustration.

"You're seeing things," I repeated stiffly.

She merely kept looking at me with that damned knowing expression

on her face, goading me into talking.

"He used to pick on me, for God's sake. He was hellish and hateful
and ugly, and I hated him. And now he's my boss, and I used to think
I wouldn't survive it. I mean, who takes a job where her boss is the
one who used to hurt her? It defies logic. It's so stupid . I thought I'd
made a huge mistake for the longest time. I thought I'd eventually
have to quit and find a new job. What are you even talking about? I
can't believe what you're implying. I'd have to be batshit crazy to get
involved with him."

I heard my voice get higher and higher the longer I spoke, but I
couldn't seem to stop the flood of words. And the more I went on, the
more out of control I felt. I didn't even realize I was crying until she
handed me a Kleenex.

Oh, no, no, no.

Fuck, I sucked.

I'd never make it as a secret spy under interrogation.

"Fine," I choked out raggedly, dabbing at my eyes. "So I'm batshit

crazy. And I'm sorry. We were only supposed to be friends who
happened to work together. I didn't mean for it to happen, I honestly
didn't, but I really like him. More than I thought possible."

And now that I'd gotten that off my chest, I felt a sense of lightness,
followed by nerves. Hesitantly, I glanced at Alice. She still wore a
sympathetic look, but it was also colored with resignation, and my
heart sank.

"What you must think of me," I whispered as my body sagged. "I

know how stupid and unprofessional it is to get involved with your
boss."

She leaned forward and her hand covered mine, squeezing tightly.

"Hey, don't put words in my mouth. I can tell you've struggled over
this whole situation. A personal issue! Jesus Christ."

"I know," I almost groaned. "But you wanted to know!"

She was silent for a few beats, letting it all sink in.

And hopefully, not thinking the worst of me.

"We can't help who we fall for. I mean, we can try, but it's usually
pointless. As you've discovered, apparently. I'm… I'm not sure what
to think yet. I'm surprised, but more so at Edward. After Tanya, he
really started conducting himself differently, almost stiffly, in fact. I
think he was trying to overcompensate for his misstep. It wasn't until
the night of the karaoke party that I noticed he was acting strange."

"That damn karaoke party," I murmured curse-like.

"Yeah. You two were on fire that night. Both apart and together. What
you had going on was definitely not water under the bridge."

Alice was no one's fool, least of all mine. I might as well have
advertised my hatred for Edward that night.

And now?
"Do you think anyone else noticed what you noticed that night? Or…
what you do now?" I was curious to know how it looked to others.

She considered me with a frown. "That night-it wasn't hard to miss,

with the way you two were acting. I'm not sure if anyone still does,
though. I haven't heard any talk. But you-"

"We have plans to tell Colin and Stuart," I interrupted, just in case
that was what she was about to say.

"-need to be careful," she continued. "People will notice how you

behave around Edward."

My voice cracked. "I-I know."

She shook her head and sighed, as if it was all beyond her.

"In a different work environment, you might be signing your own pink
slip by coming clean to Colin and Stuart. You and Edward are lucky
in that respect, because Stuart married one of his Account
Managers. He was actually in a relationship with her while they both
still worked at the company."

"Edward told me," I admitted.

It was actually how he'd convinced me we could work.

While I could tell she wasn't happy about the turn of events, I was
surprised by how accepting Alice seemed of my relationship with
Edward. Her boss. If she truly was . Because if she was upset and
acting otherwise, Edward and I were in real trouble.

"Are you… really okay with this?"

My words were uncertain, but I was careful to search for any telltale
clues that communicated anger or disgust. Would she stiffen or
clench her jaw? Roll her eyes or sigh again?
"I'm definitely not thrilled about it. I feel a little unbalanced and weird,
to be honest. It'll take me a bit to get used to the idea. But… as long
as neither of you lets it affect our working relationship, I should be
okay with it," she said in a straightforward manner that unwound my
tense muscles. She was clearly unhappy, but not angry or disgusted.

"And I'll know immediately if it does," she added with a pointed

glance. "I won't be so understanding then."

My head bowed. "I understand."

We traded looks in silence, until something else occurred to me.

"Will you… could you please keep this between us, Alice? No one
else can know yet. Please?"

She looked offended that I'd asked. "Of course. I'm not about to bust
open that hornet's nest."

"A hornet's nest," I repeated with a hard swallow. "How, um, how did
people react when they learned about Stuart and Olivia? What did
you think?"

She snorted lightly as her eyes went distant. "Stuart forgot himself at
the Christmas party when he kissed Olivia on the mouth. At first, I
thought it was a joke, but then he went beet red. Up until that point,
though, no one had any idea they'd been dating. Because of that, a
few people felt betrayed, but Stuart didn't give them anything else to
talk about. Neither did Olivia. They were both… professional beyond
reproach."

Shifting in her seat, she focused on me again. "Oh, I was taken

completely by surprise, just like everyone, but their relationship really
didn't affect me one way or the other. A few people felt threatened,
but they were the usual nay-sayers and not in Stuart's department.
But as time went on, it became old news."

Old news. How I looked forward to that…

"It'll be different with you and Edward," she said lowly. "Neither of
you is a company president, and knowing some people, they'll think
you're trying to cultivate favoritism. Yeah, I can tell that scares you.
So don't give them anything to talk about. Do your job, and continue
being damn good at it. And do be careful of how you behave around
him, Bella. You wear your emotions too much on your sleeve."

Yeah. Fuck.

Alice turned and resettled herself behind the wheel, then pulled the
seatbelt across her waist and clicked it into place.

Looking out the car's windshield, I fought back tears of anger. Under
the shock and fear of the last few minutes, I was furiously angry with
myself. I hated that I'd broken, but Alice had been insistent about
what she thought she knew. Because my emotions had given me
away. Because she was unusually observant. I used to be able to
hide them all; Dad had never once guessed what was going on at
school.

But damn it, I was overwhelmed by new feelings about Edward. I felt
both ecstatic and out of my depth, which was why I had wanted to
wait before sharing our relationship. Faced with Alice's stubborn,
knowing gaze, it had all been too much for me… not to mention my
damn acting skills.

I wondered how Edward was going to feel about Alice knowing. After
all, it was his secret, too. Was he going to be disappointed in me?

"May I ask when you and Edward are planning to tell them?" Alice
asked as she pulled out of the parking space.

There was no reason not to tell her. "Next Monday."

"Why the wait?" she asked in a confused tone, then shook her head.
"Never mind, I don't need to know. But, the sooner, the better."
Which was what Edward had said more than once. Hearing Alice say
the same thing gave me a painful zing of awareness.

Fuck.

An angry horde of butterflies invaded my stomach as my conscience

kicked in.

Now that Alice knew about us, maybe… maybe it was time to tell the
partners.

A/N: I have a Group on Facebook called Powered by 23 Kicks

Fanfiction where I've been sharing teasers and the occasional
EPOV. Come join us!
Chapter 24
Good cop, rotten asshole cop.

We're on the downside now.

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

and Paige and Aileen, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 24

Edward barely got the door open before I was on him. Letting my
duffle bag slide off my shoulder, I stepped into his space, wrapping
my arms tightly around him. It was an overwhelming, sweet relief as
his arms surrounded me and pulled me in close. And then I was
inhaling him, taking great gulps of air as I pressed my mouth in a
kiss against the thin fabric of his shirt. I couldn't get enough of that
scent of his. Couldn't get close enough. Under the palms of my
hands, his chest rumbled with laughter.

"You missed me, you really missed me," he said in a pleased tone
and pulled me the rest of the way inside his apartment.

As the door closed behind us, he leaned down and took my mouth
with his. He was as fierce and needy as I was; we were desperate,
and trading breaths as we kissed hungrily. My hands couldn't seem
to settle; they tested the warmth of his neck, clutched at his
shoulders, pulled at his shirt. I wanted to sink into him so we were
the same body, but my damn coat was in the way.

I growled and pulled away to shrug it off, and it sank to our feet as he
yanked me up into his arms. Barely pausing for breath, he slanted
his mouth across mine again as he pressed me back against the
wall. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my arms snaking around
his shoulders. He was right where I wanted him, resting hot and firm
against me, his weight welcome and soothing. I melted and melted
again.

His hair was silky to the touch, and I tugged at it until he raised his
head and I could reach his neck. He moaned, his hips bucking into
me as I scraped my teeth on the skin just below his ear. Under my
lips, I felt the rush of his heartbeat.

"Off," I demanded, yanking at the collar of his sweatshirt.

He let me slide down his body, and as he curled his arm over his
head to yank off the shirt, I grasped the waistband of his joggers and
pulled them down. Underneath them, he was all bare. His breath
caught as I reached for his cock, my fingers encircling him and giving
a light squeeze. As he kicked free of the fabric at his ankles, I ran the
palm of my other hand across his lower stomach, and the hard
muscles jumped there. His body was an incredible artwork I wanted
to take my time adoring.

Later.

I sank to my knees, ghosting my fingers and my lips down his happy

trail as I went. His thighs were thick and curved with muscle under
the palm of my hand, but it was his jutting erection that had most of
my attention. He gasped as I took the warm tip of him in my mouth,
letting the smooth length of him glide along my tongue. Glancing up
at his stomach, I followed the maze of lines and dips up to his chest,
to his dusky, dazed eyes. They were worshiping me at the same time
I was him. He was so beautiful, every part of him.
I took in as much of him as I could, letting the tip touch the back of
my throat. He made a rough sound and trembled, one of his arms
rising to brace against the wall. The fingers of his other hand
threaded through my hair and tugged gently. Holding his gaze, I
kissed the tip, tonguing the underside, and his mouth parted.
Tightening my lips around him, I moved quickly up and down his
length. When his thighs began to shake, he hauled me to my feet.

"Need you," he breathed as he pulled me against him, his cock

pressing hard and warm against my stomach.

He pressed fevered kisses down my cheek to my neck, his hands

moving to my lower back. When his fingers slid underneath my yoga
pants to cup my ass, goosebumps broke out all over my body at his
firm, warm grasp. I helped him shove down my pants, kicking them
off to the side with my shoes, then he was tugging at the hem of my
long-sleeve T-shirt. Both of us worked to get off my bra, and finally, I
was as naked as he was.

Surprising me, he bent and slid his arms under my inner thighs, then
picked me up. I clutched at his shoulders as he braced my body
against the wall, then gasped as I realized I was being held high and
open for him. A thrill of sensation coursed through my body as I saw
he was flushed all the way down to his neck, where his corded
muscles stood out in strain. Sexy.

"Put me inside," he pleaded.

Quivering for him already, I reached for him, bringing his cock to my
entrance. I slid the tip of him between my lips and across my clit,
teasing us both.

His hooded eyes went darker. My toes curled at his look of

desperate need, and I burned from the inside out. When he growled,
I eased him downward, and he lowered me onto him in one simple
move. We both moaned as he filled me tight and full. I clenched
around him, deliciously hot, and fluttering inside. And close, already
so close.
He remained agonizingly still, holding me there and simply looking at
me as we hovered on the brink. The look on his face was one of
complete adoration, and I could have cried if I wasn't almost
mindless in desperate sensation.

"Edward, please," I breathed, digging my nails into the skin of his

shoulders as I squirmed and clenched around him again.

His smile was sinfully wicked as he bent his knees, withdrawing,

then filling me again and again. And it was deliciously hot, the
ecstasy killing me, but I needed more.

"You feel so good. I want to make it last," he groaned as I whined.

"We can make it last later," I babbled urgently. " Just please, please,
please."

Drawing back again, he began to thrust inside hard and sharp, and I
shattered. Which shattered him, and then we were crying out in
release as his hips pinned me against the wall. His forehead sank to
my shoulder, his breaths quick and warm against my chest. I
pressed my lips against his ear, whispering how good it was, then
kissed the goosebumps that broke out along his neck.

There was a slight quiver in his arms as he carried me away from the
wall. As he set me down, my legs were quivering, too. Laughing
breathlessly, I squeezed my thighs together, and he handed me his
sweatshirt to press against myself.

After I cleaned up and redressed in the bathroom, I found him sitting

at the piano lazily picking out notes to a song I didn't recognize. For
long moments, I stood in the hallway and just looked at the sexy
picture he presented. His hair was a chaotic mess, giving him a
boyish look, and his eyes were closed in concentration. Bare-
chested, my eyes adored his rounded, broad shoulders, and the
expanse of honey-colored skin. One of his arms rested on top of the
piano, and I was amazed at the tune he could bring forth with just the
fingers of one hand.
My heart turning over in my chest, I drifted over to him with a smile
on my face. He heard me coming, and when his eyes opened and
met mine, my stomach flipped at their intensity. Even unguarded and
lazy, he was a captivating force that drew me to him.

As I sank down onto the bench beside him, he curled his free arm
around me and hugged me to his chest. I pressed a kiss there with a
sigh of contentment, and he chuckled.

"That was quite a greeting," he murmured.

For a second, I thought he meant my kiss, and I was going to correct

that by really kissing him. Then, I realized he meant when I'd arrived
and wordlessly threw myself at him.

"Oh. That," I said with a smile.

As he continued pressing the piano's keys, I laid my cheek against

his upper arm, and gazed out the window at the harbor below. The
sun was setting fast behind the edge of the water, the shadows
chasing a small speedboat that was approaching the dock.

"You were right-I did miss you. I also had a hell of a day. It came with
more than a few painful revelations."

"Tell me," he encouraged.

Spinning on the seat to face him fully, I gathered his hands in mine.

"The first was when I realized that time apart from you was going to
hurt more than help me. I saw you this morning, and it felt as if I'd cut
off my nose to spite my face," I confessed, confused and just sorry .
"The time we spend apart doesn't… dim what I feel."

His eyes impossibly gentle, he carried one of my hands to his lips.

"And, apparently, it also doesn't help hide what I feel. Alice saw
almost immediately. She… she knows about us, Edward."
He didn't appear shocked or angry about that, though. Those
gorgeous eyes of his just looked at me softly, patiently waiting for me
to continue.

"As soon as we got into her car, she was asking why the two of us
were smiling so often at each other. She was like a bloodhound
scenting prey." Squeezing my eyes closed, I pressed the knuckles of
one of his hands against my forehead. "I tried to convince her she
was wrong, but she's noticed all of these things about us. The way
we behaved at the karaoke party, how we stare at each other, how
distracted I am around you. She's been watching me like a hawk for
months."

His voice was an amused baritone. "We were doomed from the
start."

I glared at him. "It's not funny. She knows about us. We work with
her."

"That explains the odd look on her face when she came to my office
this afternoon. While I don't like that she didn't feel comfortable
enough to level with me, I have to say I'm relieved. That's one less
person you have to put on an act for, Bella."

"But she's my supervisor."

As was his habit when I was freaking out, he began sweeping his
thumbs across the tender inside of my wrists.

"I think she's more than that. You're friends. But I've also seen you
navigate that relationship almost seamlessly; you've never taken
advantage of your friendship with her. That shouldn't change. Alice
knowing is a good thing."

Only time would tell if that was true, no matter what he said.

"It scares me that she noticed so quickly. What if others do?"

In answer, he tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, then ran his
finger along my cheek soothingly. How he could be so blasé about
our situation, I didn't know. He was so at ease with the idea of us, so
confident in our relationship. It comforted me, but I envied his
certainty-his calm assurance that all of this would work out in the
end.

And maybe that easy certainty was making an impression…

because it was helping to make me trust him about it. If Edward said
the partners would accept our relationship, I was eager to have them
do so. Briefly, I imagined what it would feel like to go to work while
having their blessing, and I almost sagged in relief. If only…

But if they didn't accept our relationship… if they didn't, I could find
another job, terrifying as that thought was. I had enough savings to
tide me over for a few months if it came to that.

Think positive, damn it.

"Maybe we should tell Stuart and Colin now," I said as my pulse

picked up in fear and adrenaline.

Edward stared at me long and intensely, his grip tightening around

my hand. "Are you sure?"

I bowed my head. Was I sure? About Edward, yes. About the

partners, not quite. That certainty wouldn't come until I was face-to-
face with them and saw visible proof they'd accepted us. But
meanwhile, I didn't want the secret of us to be another issue I'd
continue obsessing over. I was tired of worrying.

"I trust you," I said.

The unguarded look of relief on his face made me wish I'd admitted
that truth sooner.

"And Alice said the same thing about telling them sooner rather than
later," I added with a sigh. "So let's do it. I don't want to worry about
this anymore."

He cupped my face in his hands, then drew me close to rest his

forehead against mine. And when he kissed me, I found the
reassurance I craved.

My heart was racing as I sat in the leather-backed seat at Roanoke's

Restaurant the next evening. I was both nervous and resigned, but
more than ready to face whatever came. Facing it would be easier
than fearing it-than obsessing tirelessly over it.

The place wasn't busy yet, and I could hear soft music piped in from
hidden speakers. Only a few waitstaff, wearing black linen aprons
over simple white shirts, were on the floor to cater to the
businessmen and women who dotted the room. Amber lights
suspended from pendant chandeliers lit the top of a teak wood bar,
where a lone man sat chatting to the female bartender.

Edward had made the reservation for five-thirty, but asked Stuart and
Colin to meet us at six.

"We'll have a cocktail first, just you and me," he'd said.

I knew I'd want more than one cocktail, but it would have been
beyond poor judgment, and I drew the line at dating my boss.

My martini glass shook as I raised it to my mouth.

Damn it.

I didn't want to appear weak or unsure; I wanted to be calmly

professional, and proud to be by Edward's side. Because I was . He
was worth being with, no matter how this night turned out.

But think positively, damn it.

Beside me, Edward eyed me almost sensually, his gaze making love
to me. Even knowing it was a distraction ploy, I sank into his look,
burning. God, he was so…

"To us," he said, and raised his glass of bourbon. He was the picture
of sinful ease in black and gray. Not wanting to appear matchy-
matchy, I was wearing a dark brown blazer over checkered slacks.

By now, both Colin and Stuart knew we were together; I was sure
they'd taken one look at Edward's emailed invitation and put one
plus one together. In a move that had filled me with relief, Colin
confirmed almost immediately he'd come. Stuart had waited hours.

So the stage was set, and we were committed.

"You don't seem nervous at all," I noted, relieved my voice wasn't

shaking. The martini had definitely helped smooth over my nerves.

Edward winked at me. "I hide it well. This is going to be difficult, yes,
but we can do it, Bella. The trick is to be confident and professional
without being arrogant."

I huffed out a laugh. "I'm too anxious to be arrogant."

When I saw Colin walking our way behind the hostess, my stomach
did a backflip. In his late forties, he was a stocky, well-built man with
thinning, sandy-colored hair, blue eyes, and a ready smile. He was
the more outgoing partner, the business wizard behind the scenes, a
jokester in person. When I passed him at work, he always greeted
me with a smile and by name.

Would he still do the same after this?

Edward pushed back his chair and stood to greet Colin. The two
men shook hands briefly before Colin settled into the chair across
from me, his gaze polite as he glanced my way and nodded once in
greeting.
"Bella," he said.

Then, with an odd look at the two of us, which suggested a kind of
surprise, he aimed a sharp look at Edward.

"You know, I'm starting to dread these dinners of yours, Edward; they
all seem to come with bad news. How long?"

And there it was.

I couldn't help feeling self-conscious at the look of disappointment on

his face.

"It's been a few weeks," Edward admitted with a level gaze, his tone
polite, yet unapologetic.

I tensed, because I wasn't sure that was the approach to take.

Shouldn't we be at least a little sorry?

Edward was about to continue speaking when Stuart walked up to

the table. And although Edward stood and held out his hand, Stuart
completely ignored it. Like a total jackass.

"Don't greet me as if everything is status-quo, damn it," Stuart

growled, pulling out the chair beside Colin and sitting heavily in it.

His gaze, when it swung to me, bordered on anger.

"Hello, Mr. Devaney," I said smoothly as Edward resettled into his

chair.

Thank God again for strong martinis.

Stuart was the younger partner, the one I knew the least since he
was in another department. I guessed him to be in his early forties.
Black-haired with a thin, trim beard, he was good-looking in a high
school teacher way. Right then, his brown eyes were snapping at
me. He might have been the hot-tempered one, but he was also the
one who'd been in our position. As Alice had once claimed, I hoped
his bark was worse than his bite. If it was, I had a fairly good idea
how to handle him since my often intimidating dad was the same
way: don't be a doormat . Give back just as hard, but be damn nice
about doing it.

"You're addressing me directly?" he returned with a hard laugh,

surprising me with his rudeness. "You have some balls, don't you,
Miss Swan?"

Edward shifted beside me as if he was going to speak.

"Not really," I said quietly. "My balls are more the size of macadamia
nuts."

It made him laugh, but it wasn't a happy sound. "And yet here you
are, flouting the worst of problematic relationships."

My immediate instinct was to correct him-to remind him that the

Employee Handbook hadn't prohibited fraternization-but under the
circumstances, I bit my tongue. Unwritten rule or not, Edward and I
were the ones asking for consideration. Maybe once he'd gotten the
anger out of his system, Stuart would drop the asshole act.

Our waitress stepped up to the table then and asked if she could get
anything to drink for the men. As soon as she took their orders and
left, Edward dove right into it.

"We've asked you both here to divulge our relationship status," he

began. "I was just telling Colin that Bella and I have been together
for a few weeks."

"Only a few weeks, you say?" Stuart asked sharply. "Then it's still
new enough that you could back away. Which is my advice in this
situation."

My heart dropped, but Edward was undeterred by Stuart's comment.

"You didn't take your own advice, Stuart," he replied simply. "Like I
imagine happened with you, this is a case of falling for someone
unexpected in an unexpected place. It's not an office fling."

"How do you know? It's only been a few weeks," Stuart shot back.

Edward turned and held my gaze as he answered. "Because I

know."

Breathe, Bella, breathe.

"And I suppose you think we'll be agreeable to this relationship

because of my wife ?" Stuart growled. Under his anger, I thought he
looked a little uncomfortable. Or sheepish.

"Because there's precedent, yes," Edward answered, still keeping

his replies short and to the point. "You and Olivia were successful at
navigating your relationship in the workplace, and I'm confident that
Bella and I can do the same."

Stuart's scowl deepened and one corner of his mouth curled up

mockingly. Nowhere did I see the empathy I'd expected. It was
obvious he thought we were a pair of fools. Either that or he was
angered that his situation had given birth to ours. In which case, he
was behaving like an unprofessional hypocrite.

Colin pressed his hands on the tabletop and leaned forward. "That's
a big claim with numerous pitfalls," he said to Edward. "Your
relationship causes a serious problem for the company, not to
mention consequences. I'm talking about supervisory roles,
advancement opportunities, choices of assignments, and charges of
sexual harassment if things don't work out."

I tensed.

Sexual harassment?-I would never!

Trying not to panic at Colin's words was difficult. Shaking inside, I
only barely managed to remain outwardly professional and calm.
Thankfully, I had a moment of respite when our waitress showed up
with Stuart's and Colin's drinks. Oblivious to the tension around her,
she cheerfully asked if we wanted any starters.

Oh, how I wanted another martini.

"No, thank you," Stuart barked with a dismissive gesture, and the
waitress backed away promptly.

Okay then.

"The only guarantee I can give you-in writing-is that my relationship

with Bella won't affect the company, or my performance with her or
anyone else," Edward said to Colin, but his gaze also included
Stuart. "I'm also prepared to step back as her boss. Alice Brandon is
currently supervising Bella's work, and I don't see any reason why
that can't continue. She can handle Bella's performance reviews and
provide Colin with feedback on any promotions or raises."

I was so proud of him; Edward was nailing it.

"Your partner is in your department, man!" Stuart growled.

Well, he wasn't wrong, but I was starting to grow impatient at his

anger. Talk about double standards…

"And Olivia was in yours," Edward returned, calm and pointed. "Yet
you made it work. And since there isn't a written rule against
fraternization, all we're asking for is a chance to do the same."

Stuart's eyes narrowed, but it was a good argument, and he had to

know it. Still, I had only two seconds to appreciate it before Colin
spoke again.

"Stuart and Olivia are older than the two of you. More mature. What
happens if the unexpected happens again, and the two of you break
up as young couples often do?"

"We're not running a goddamn dating site," Stuart added gruffly.

Mature, my ass. If he was playing bad cop, he was taking things way
too far.

"Stuart, I can assure you that no one thought that about you and
your position," Edward said with a hint of confused anger on his
face. "Besides, isn't that what the Relationship Agreement
paperwork is for? It protects the company in those circumstances."

The more upset Stuart grew, the more direct Edward's words
became, which only seemed to anger Stuart further.

"I'll quit," I said, surprising myself.

All eyes swung my way.

"If my relationship with Edward doesn't work out, I'll quit."

"Why not quit now ?" Stuart asked, eyeing me with interest.

I swallowed. "I love my job, and despite how you're behaving now, I
love working for you and Colin. I don't want to have to give that up."

"But would you?" he pressed, ignoring my jab. "Which is more

important-your job or your relationship with Edward?"

Nothing like being put on the spot.

Edward stiffened beside me, and I spoke quickly.

"Both are important to me. But if I have to choose, I'll choose him."

" We're choosing to stay with Smith and Devaney," Edward said
firmly. One of his hands rested casually against the table, and I
envied his professional cool, his easy calm. "We're both driven,
excellent performers for this company, and that's not going to
change. I'm asking for the same trust and confidence that was given
to Stuart and Olivia."

Stuart shifted in his chair. "I'm not sure you've earned it. Your
judgment isn't always sound. Didn't your involvement with Tanya
Taylor, not even a year ago, result in behavioral issues?"

As the dart shot home, Edward blinked.

Fuck.

"Both Tanya and I agreed we had a lapse in judgment while

inebriated at the holiday party," he began coolly, politely. "I went to
Colin about it immediately to mitigate any fallout. Tanya and I have
worked together successfully in the interim. I only recently asked you
about accepting her in your department because she displayed
creative tendencies that I thought could benefit the advertising side.
Obviously, you agreed."

Stuart's lips thinned. "And are you going to ask to have Miss Swan
relocated a year from now when a new subordinate attracts your
attention?" he asked coolly.

"Stuart," Colin rebuked. "You've more than made your point."

"I'm not entering into a relationship with Bella lightly," Edward said in
a low tone that just barely remained professional. "I'm asking, based
on my past contributions and value with this company, that I be
extended the same confidence and trust that was given to you when
you found yourself in a relationship with a subordinate."

There were a long few beats where Stuart looked pleased that he'd
been able to penetrate Edward's calm. Then, with a short nod, he
turned to Colin.

"Well, you're his boss. In your opinion, does Mr. Cullen's

performance warrant this kind of trust?"
Sighing, Colin sat back in his chair and regarded Edward with critical
eyes. Under the table, I crossed my fingers.

"Edward has managed and coached a successful marketing team for

over two years now. He has been instrumental in retaining Luxe and
Tomkinson Divisions, two of our top clients. He helps keep his eye
on their competitors so we're one step ahead in their arenas. He has
strong relationships with several of our other clients-many who have
claimed him as the most successful strategist they've ever worked
with. And, more than a few people on his team are actively striving to
match his performance-Miss Swan in particular."

I went light-headed as sweet relief coursed through my body. High

praise, indeed. I was cheering for Edward, for myself, inside.

Colin tilted his head as he continued. "Losing Edward… would be a

loss to the company," he said slowly. "Truthfully, I would hate to lose
either of them."

" Anyone is replaceable," Stuart said.

"You don't need to replace me," Edward said. "At the moment, I don't
want to go anywhere else."

My heart banged at his veiled threat. Colin noticed, also-I saw his
face fall ever so slightly.

"I appreciate that, Edward," he said. "But we do have the issue of

your relationship with Bella to contend with. Stuart's relationship with
Olivia aside, it's bad business to get involved with anyone you work
with."

"I understand that," Edward answered. "Neither Bella nor I planned

or wanted our relationship to be a problem. But both of us are
prepared to sign paperwork that will protect the company. And as I
think we've demonstrated tonight, we're also prepared to conduct
ourselves professionally."
I did an internal fist pump at the hard glance Edward directed at
Stuart.

"Granted," Stuart spoke dryly, aware of Edward's pointed barb. "But

you can't always plan for every situation. And people will find out.
What then?"

"If we have the company's backing, no one else's opinion will

matter."

"Oh, they'll matter, all right," Colin broke in. "Don't kid yourself,
Edward. Bella will be especially vulnerable. You believe the two of
you are prepared to behave professionally in the wake of situational
gossip, but it'll be a different matter when you're actually faced with
it. And you'll have to rise above it."

Edward shrugged. "I don't want to downplay any of the

consequences, but we don't plan to give them anything to talk about.
And eventually, talk will die down."

Stuart turned his burning brown eyes my way.

"Miss Swan, why so quiet?" he asked provocatively, and I

straightened.

Just listening in disbelief to you being an utter asshole.

"Just letting you have your say first," I replied after a short hesitation.
"Edward and I have talked about this in depth several times. He's
speaking for me, too. And I realize the gossip might be damaging,
but like Edward said, I don't plan to give anyone anything to talk
about."

"You probably will, and without realizing it," he replied with a heavy,
unblinking glare. "But it's how you behave afterward that will matter
to the company. And if you think I'm giving you a hard time, just wait
until someone brings up your circumstances. No one said anything
to me-but they did to Olivia."
My chin rose. "My job is more important than someone's opinion
about how I live my life."

"You say that now. But if things sour between you and Edward? Are
you going to take that anger out on your clients? On your
coworkers? On him?"

Oh, please, I thought. Give me some credit for not behaving like you.

"If things sour between Edward and me, I'll quit," I repeated my
earlier claim. "If we're having a disagreement, I will not let it affect my
work performance or relationships. I understand that if I'm at work,
I'm an employee first, not Edward's partner."

"Prettily said," Stuart stated, then neatly tipped the glass in his hand
back into his mouth.

"We're prepared to sign paperwork to that effect," Edward reminded

them. "We're prepared to protect the company."

"It seems as if you are." Colin sighed. "But we'll give it a trial run of
six weeks. You'll sign the paperwork, and we'll monitor your
performance and attitudes. I hope it goes smoothly."

"Hope in one hand, shit in the other," was Stuart's comment.

"I'm really surprised, Mr. Devaney; I thought you'd be more

understanding of our situation," I said to him, my tone carefully
polite. Why the hell was he giving us such a hard time?

"I do understand," he snapped. "I'm all too aware of the pitfalls." He

looked at Edward. "While it may have seemed easy for me and
Olivia, it wasn't always that way. She often had to fight to maintain
her professionalism under fire. Someone who's no longer with the
company used to make snide comments about sleeping with the
boss, something she didn't mention to me until after he was gone."
I felt slightly ill, imagining it. If anyone said that to me, I'd want to
punch them in the nose.

"Not to mention," Stuart continued, "A fight at home wasn't

necessarily forgotten while we were at work."

"Not forgotten, maybe, but no one ever saw a reason to question

your conduct," Edward said. "I don't remember seeing or hearing
about any problems. And Bella and I have also discussed the
outcome for when others discover our relationship. We're not going
into this blind."

With that said, he bent to retrieve his briefcase. Setting it on the

table, he opened it and withdrew a sheaf of papers and a pen.

The company's Relationship Agreement.

Quickly, Edward wrote his name and date on one of the lines of the
last page. Then, I did the same, before I pushed the paperwork over
to Stuart. He eyed where we'd signed, then glanced at Colin.

"Are we really doing this?" he asked.

"For the last time," Colin said with a slow nod. "For a trial period of
six weeks. Yes."

I snuck a look at Edward-his ruggedly handsome face with its

impossibly high cheekbones was still serene and cool. He was
utterly in charge, and it was sexy as hell. Feeling my stare, he smiled
softly at me. I bit my lip, unable to hide my answering smile.

Inside, I was sliding bonelessly from my chair to the floor in relief.

Colin took the paperwork from Stuart, then began writing as he

spoke.

"And if there are ensuing complications with either of your job

performances within the designated period, Bella agrees to find
another job immediately."
He handed the paperwork back to me with those added words.

Edward scowled at the caveat, and my stomach dipped at the

thought, but I'd brought up the idea myself. And so I signed my name
again.

When I looked up again, it was at Edward. Uncaring that Colin or

Stuart might see, he gave me his breath-stealing smile and winked
at me.

We got this, his eyes told me.

During dinner, Stuart finally relaxed into someone human. Maybe the
second drink helped, too. He shared some of the situations he and
Olivia had gone through, then talked about possible pitfalls and
offered us some tips, gradually winning my trust. I had to fight tears, I
was so relieved. After the tough time he'd given us, it helped me
understand why Edward thought he could trust him in the first place.

Although Colin wasn't his usual jovial self, he also offered

suggestions. And while both of their thoughts might have been made
with the health of the company in mind, it was also evident that they
were going to stand behind us.

It was damn surreal, and I had to pinch myself more than once.

A/N: I have a Group on Facebook called Powered by 23 Kicks

Fanfiction where I've been sharing teasers and the occasional
EPOV. Come join us!
Chapter 25
A woman scorned.

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

and Paige, Aileen, and Deb, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 25

Looking over at Edward's office was a Pavlovian response every

time I stood from my chair, but I couldn't seem to help myself. Seeing
he was distracted and on his phone, I sighed and pulled my bag onto
my shoulder. He'd text me when he was done for the day.

Pushing my chair under the desk, I noticed Alice was also distracted.
I just didn't know if it was deliberate.

Edward and Colin had pulled her into Edward's office last week after
our talk with the partners, so I knew she was aware of our new
dynamic. She was going to remain my immediate supervisor, and
report my progress to Colin instead of Edward. But she'd evaded any
attempts to talk to me about it with the excuse she was too busy.
She even had me step back from Bailey's Bicycles, although I had
offered my insights on how Bailey's might target semi-paraplegic
consumers.
It stung, losing her confidence in me, if that was what it was. But it
stung losing her friendship even more.

"I'm heading out," I said, pausing at the half wall to smile at her.

She glanced at me and nodded. "Of course. See you tomorrow,

Bella."

When I was still there a few seconds later, she arched an eyebrow at
me.

"Can we get lunch tomorrow? Just… to talk about things?"

I'd rather have had dinner with her-it would have been more low-key
with more time to talk-but at this point, I wasn't going to push my
luck.

Alice swiveled in her chair to face me. "That's probably a good idea,"
she said on a sigh. "Sorry I've kept you at arm's length lately; I was
thinking about my new responsibilities as your supervisor. It's a
delicate balance-a friendship with a subordinate whose future
depends on what I might report to Colin Smith. It's going to be… I
just needed to get used to the idea."

"I understand," I answered regretfully. "You're worried about how

close you and I should be."

Eyes widening, she straightened. "Exactly. And I was feeling gypped,

too, because you are a friend, and I didn't want to lose that."

"You won't," I said softly. "You already know how I operate at the
office, Alice. Nothing's going to change-you're the boss. And no way
in hell am I going to give you a reason to report a bad attitude, or
below-average work."

The uncomfortable heaviness from a moment ago dissipated as she

cracked a smile.

"All right. Good. We can talk about it tomorrow," she said.

My relief had me almost sagging against the wall.

As Alice swiveled back to face her desk, I couldn't help darting

another glance at Edward's office. This time, he was looking my way.
Although I could tell he was talking, he flashed me one of his blinding
smiles. And it didn't matter how many times I'd seen that smile; the
power of it still sent a zing through my bloodstream.

Still reeling from it, I stepped into the elevator alongside the other
stragglers who were leaving ten minutes past quitting time. Most
were from other departments-faces I recognized, but names I didn't
know. In a red double-breasted overcoat with a stony expression,
Tanya was hard to miss. She stood just behind me, while Ben moved
in beside me.

"What are you smiling at?" he asked quietly.

Before I could answer, Tanya spoke. In the confines of the elevator,

her voice was loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Oh, Bella has a secret ."

My head snapped her way, and her gaze was direct and cool,
unblinking.

Ice suddenly filled my veins.

She knew.

Somehow, she knew.

"What's your secret?" Ben asked, thinking Tanya was teasing me.

Tanya's red-painted mouth curled into a mocking smile.

"Oh, yes, tell Ben your secret," she said. "It's not like he doesn't
deserve to know."

I dare you, her eyes said.

"Bella?" Ben asked, a note of confusion in his voice.

I didn't know how to respond. I was too busy racking my brain about
how she might have found out about Edward and me.

"I think Bella's on the fast-track," Tanya replied to Ben… and to

everyone else listening. " Someone's grooming her for a Senior
Account Manager's position."

At her words, I faced forward again, reeling now for an entirely

different reason.

She might not out us at the moment, but she was still going to do
some damage, still going to try to get people to resent me.

"Really?" Ben asked. "That's amazing, Bella."

I had the presence of mind to notice there wasn't any envy in his
voice, that he seemed genuinely pleased for me. Trying to shake off
the shock, I glanced at him.

"As far as I know, I'm not. I'm just like you," I told him, relieved my
voice didn't shake.

"You're not," Tanya purred. " Edward thinks the world of you. Anyone
can see it. I can still see it, even from across the room."

A couple of people in the elevator shifted. Sweat began to bead

down my back at their stares.

"Can we not talk about this please?" I pleaded. "It's unprofessional."

I heard a snort as the elevator dinged and stopped, opening at floor

six.

"You think you, of all people, know the first thing about how to
behave professionally ?" Tanya asked as the doors slid open and a
few more people stepped inside.
Sensing a fight, two men in overcoats eyed Tanya with discomfort.

I exhaled slowly, although what I wanted to do was turn around and

deck her. Which was probably what she wanted from me-a reaction
that showed I was scared, angry, and out of control.

Well, I was two out of the three, and nearing the third.

"Tanya," Ben ventured reproachfully.

He was no match for her, though, and in my current state of mind,

neither was I.

"I think we have something to discuss, don't we, Bella?"

Risking her ire, I ignored her.

She can only hurt me if I allow her to, I told myself as my throat
tightened.

The ensuing silence was heavy. Crushing. Tanya might like the taste
of blood in this kind of situation, but I was itchy from the inside out.

My heart racing, I prayed for the lobby entrance.

When it finally came and the doors slid open, I wasn't gentle as I
pushed through the bodies in front of me.

"Sorry, excuse me," I gulped, wincing as I banged my knee into

someone's briefcase.

"A little jumpy, aren't you?" Tanya asked, having followed me into the
building's lobby.

I spun to face her, and found Ben had exited as well.

"What's going on?" he asked, eyeing us both in confusion.

Tanya's head cocked. "We have some girl talk to do, Ben, and it's
private. Do you mind?"

He looked at me in concern, and sheepishly, I wondered what he'd

think if he really knew what was going on. Would he still be so
concerned about me?

"It's okay," I said faintly, and at his look of doubt, tried to sound more
convincing.

"Tanya's right, we do have a few things we need to talk about."

Understatement.

"You sure you two don't need a mediator?" he pressed with a sharp
glance at Tanya, who laughed shortly at his worry.

"Oh, don't worry about Bella. She's well protected."

Ignoring the obvious question about what that meant, Ben's brown
eyes were soft as he gazed at me. "If you need me to stay, I will."

I forced myself into a smile of reassurance. "Thank you. But it really

is private, as Tanya said."

"If it's so private, why is she bringing it up publicly?" he asked,

making Tanya laugh again.

My hand balled into a fist. "You'd have to ask her."

But don't, please. I'm not ready for you to know this yet.

Mouth pressed tight, he glared at Tanya.

"I'm running out of patience," she said with a sigh, and I began
backing away from Ben.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I told him.

Reluctantly, he remained where he was. Knowing something was
wrong, and watching with heavy disapproval as the two of us walked
away. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, he could do.

That I could do.

With a clenched jaw, I followed Tanya into Goodwin's Deli. Except for
us and the man behind the counter, it was empty. Appeasing her, I
let her order us bottles of water at the counter before we took a seat
at the back.

"Let's hope no one from the office stops in for a late night coffee,"
she purred with a grin as she settled onto her side of the bench. "We
sure wouldn't want anyone else to hear us."

Briefly, I thought about pouring my bottle of water over her perfectly

styled head of hair. Wearing a winter white pantsuit under her
startling red coat, and smiling, she appeared to be a beautiful
woman. It was the ugly glint in her eyes that suggested otherwise.

"What is it you think you know?" I asked tersely, wanting to get this
over and done with.

Her thin auburn eyebrows rose. "Sweetheart, I don't think, I know .

Guess who I saw strolling hand-in-hand down Lake Shore Drive a
few Saturdays ago?" Then, with a shake of her head, she tsk, tsk,
tsked me. "No wonder Edward favors you, hmmm? He's fucking
you."

The ugly, accusative words reverberated in my mind, but it was her

gaze, cruel and sharp, that had me shrinking inside. I'd thought she
was just hurt before, but now I saw that it was more than that. She
was bitterly furious .

It was also clear that she expected me to panic, but I'd already
guessed she knew. I just hadn't expected such blatant anger. It
rocked me to the core and stole any words I might have uttered in
defense.
"He's scum, you know," she continued in a conversational tone, as if
we were talking about the weather. "Edward likes to use and discard
women. I know you're aware of the rumors about us at work-you
hinted as much the last time we spoke. Looks like you're on the
same path now. And I have to ask: do you really want your
coworkers to regard you as one of his throwaway whores?"

A number of thoughts occurred to me in quick succession, the first

one being that she didn't know Edward at all. The next was sharp
fear-she wasn't remembering what had happened clearly. She'd
warped the sense of truth and turned Edward into the enemy. The
reason why she was doing it had my stomach clenching.

"He told me about last year's Christmas party, that you'd both had
too much to dri-"

"That's such bullshit," she hissed, and there were angry tears in her
eyes. "I don't drink, and he wasn't drunk. He'd been eyeing me for
months up to that night. Hanging around my cubicle for the thinnest
of reasons. Dropping innuendos when others weren't around. Flirting
with me. He caught me unaware outside the women's restroom that
night and pulled me into a janitor's closet."

Even though I knew it wasn't true, pain exploded in my chest.

I knew what Edward was like when he was aroused, and he'd let me
lead. I also couldn't imagine he'd discard his VP persona so
thoroughly that he'd go caveman at a company event. Ugly and
painful, I tried to reject the pictures she painted, aware that her
version of the truth was skewed in her favor. Although I had firsthand
knowledge of what a flirt Edward could be at work-which fucking
stung-I still believed his side of the story.

And I hated that she was trying to make me doubt him.

But honestly, it was Tanya's angry zeal that made her so

unbelievable, that had my protective instincts for Edward kicking in.
"Regardless of what happened, it was a mistake, Tanya. You've both
since moved on," I said, even though she obviously hadn't.

"A mistake . Was it a mistake that he fucked me against the wall in

that closet?"

I stared at her stonily as a single tear fell down her cheek.

It's a lie, Bella. Trust your instincts.

"If he told you otherwise and you believe him, you're a fool. And if
you don't listen to me, you'll be right where I was last December,
used and humiliated ."

She was delusional. Had to be.

Leaning across the table, Tanya eyed me with fervor. "What is it you
think you're doing with him, anyway? You think he's going to marry
you like Stuart did with his little office skank?"

Jesus God. That hadn't even occurred to me, considering I already

thought Edward and I were moving too fast. Apparently, she was
judging me based on her own hang-ups.

"It's none of your business what I'm doing with him," I snapped,
growing impatient with her theatrics, her hatred. I couldn't believe
she was referring to her new boss's wife as a skank .

Tanya settled back against her seat with a short laugh. "That's where
you're wrong. If you're sleeping with the boss, it's everyone's
business."

Shit. I'd played right into her hands with that one.

"That's right," she said, smiling at the look on my face before she
adopted a false look of sympathy, her voice raising an octave. "I
wonder what Ben is going to think when he learns you're with
Edward? I bet he won't be so concerned about you then."
Bile rose in my throat.

She was out for blood. Mine, Edward's, it didn't matter whose.

Now that Tanya knew I was with Edward, it wouldn't be long before
everyone else did, too.

Thank God we'd already told Colin and Stuart.

Based on Tanya's smug expression, she didn't know that, though;

she thought she was catching me unprepared. But she was still
going to cause problems. Nothing I could say would stop her,
especially since I wasn't turning on Edward the way she hoped. And
anything I said would only sound like a defense to her.

I needed to get away from her.

"I think we're done," I said, scooting to the end of the bench.

"You're a bigger idiot than I ever was," she drawled as I stood.

That was debatable.

"I thought the whispers about me were bad. You're going to be

roasted over the fire."

Shit, don't think about that now. Just go, go, go.

"Sleeping your way up the pole," she yelled after me. "What a
celebration for the working woman's credo. Your parents must be so
proud. Your mother, especially. What does she do? Oh! Did she
sleep with her boss, too? "

My heart lodged in my throat, trying to choke me.

With teeth clenched hard enough to make my jaw ache, I spun back
around to see her triumphant sneer.
"My mother is dead," I intoned, just barely holding on to my temper.
"And your twisted hatred is going to destroy you far more than it ever
will me."

At first visibly surprised at my words, I saw a hint of remorse in her

face before her expression hardened again.

I left, my eyes filled with angry tears.

Edward helped me remove my coat, then with a small, amused

looking frown, pulled the bottom of my shirt away from my stomach.

"Whoops," I said, staring down at the seam of the hem, realizing I'd
put my shirt on inside out. For some stupid reason, it made my eyes
fill with tears.

His expression going soft and tender, he pulled me into his arms.

"What is it?" he murmured against the top of my head.

I rested my cheek on his chest, my arms tightening around him.

"I need a drink. So do you. Let's get the bourbon," I said.

"That bad?"

"Worse."

He tugged me by the hand into the kitchen, then pulled out two
goblets from the cabinet over the sink. When he turned away to grab
the bottle, I hoisted myself on top of the black granite counter and
stared at the lighted bookcase beyond the chef's window. If I had to
give him ugly news, at least I could do it in beautiful surroundings.

I watched him and sighed. In a black sweatshirt that contrasted

vividly with his hair, my heart skipped at his natural beauty. He didn't
need makeup or hairstyling, just a plain old sweatshirt. It was so
unfair.
Eyeing me closely as he poured the amber-colored liquid into our
glasses, he winked at me, further charming me. Bitchily, I wondered
if he'd ever winked at Tanya. And I wondered if we'd be in this
predicament if they'd never had that moment at the Christmas party.

"Tanya knows about us," I announced.

In the middle of recapping the bottle of bourbon, he froze as his gaze

snapped to mine. Although he seemed displeased, he didn't look all
that surprised.

"She also said you fucked her in a janitor's closet, and that I was a
fool for being with you."

It was minimal, but he flinched.

He set the bottle down gently, then moved to stand in front of me.
His gaze was open and vulnerable.

"She's lying," he told me simply. "I never touched her that way. As for
the second… what do you think?"

My eyes closed as his hands came to rest on the top of my thighs,

warm and strong.

"I might be a fool for being with you," I admitted as I brought my

hands up to cover his.

No. I definitely was.

"But I want to be with you. So if that makes me a fool…" I shrug.

"She just… painted some ugly pictures for me."

Sorrow turned his eyes black.

"That night wasn't supposed to bite anyone's ass but mine," he said
lowly. "I'm sorry, Bella. I'm not sure what pictures she put into your
mind, but all we did was kiss and touch each other over clothing. I
hate that it even went that far."
It was the same thing he'd told me once before, but a tiny stinging
nettle still pierced my heart as my traitorous mind played out the
scenario. And I was stupid to feel this way because of what
happened before we'd met again. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I studied the bump of his Adam's apple, then grabbed one of the
glasses.

"You used to, er, flirt with her, too?" I asked, then took a healthy swig.

It burned nicely as it went down my throat, and I hoped it would help

ease the ache.

"I know you have cause to doubt me about this, seeing as I did with
you, but I did not flirt with her," he said firmly, and the grip around my
thighs tightened. "Except the night of the party. I'd been drinking too
much, and she was right there. I'd been lonely, too, and I know that
played a part."

He stared at me openly, steadily, his fingers massaging the muscles

of my thighs. The fact that he was so comfortably straightforward
about this reassured me a little. Still, I threw a bit more bourbon
down the hatch because we weren't done yet.

"I thought she was merely hurt, but Edward, she's more than that.
She's bitter and spiteful. If she can, she's going to cause problems
for us at work."

I didn't realize my eyes had closed until his hands were cupping my
face. Stepping closer, he brought his forehead to mine.

"I'll let Stuart know what she intends to do. We have a no tolerance
policy against workplace harassment. Maybe she needs a reminder."

I shook my head against his.

She wouldn't care.

"Is it harassment to tell someone else that she saw us together, that
she thinks we're sleeping together? Because that's what she's going
to do. How can the company police that?"

He leaned back, then pressed a kiss to my forehead. "It's

harassment already, simply due to the reasons you've already given.
And if the person she tells reports her to Stuart, she could be fired."

"She'll probably tell Jessica," I whispered. "And we both know she

won't report Tanya, because Jessica loves gossip. After that,
everyone will know."

He pulled me off the counter and into his arms.

"Remember Stuart's advice," he said. "We need to remain

professional beyond reproach. We're not going to give anyone
anything to talk about."

"It'll be trite advice when I come face-to-face with it."

His arms tightened, but he couldn't protect me from what I knew was
going to happen.

"I hate what I'm going to say," he said and shuddered. "But you've
had practice handling this kind of thing before, Tiger Eyes." Pausing,
I heard him swallow nervously. "I was much worse than anyone else
will be."

Surprised he was bringing that up, I choked out a laugh.

"That's… actually true."

Remembering how painfully awful he'd once been, how I'd withstood
his attacks, had me stiffening in his arms. Damn it, I didn't want to
relearn that behavior, or to feel that way again.

Almost fervently, he began pressing kisses down the side of my face,

until he pulled back slightly to meet my gaze. Earnest and adoring,
he stared at me so long that my breathing began to pick up. When
he inclined his head, I rose on tiptoes to meet his mouth, and we
kissed long, deep, and slow. His hands lifted to cup my face, to hold
me to him, and I began to unravel under all that tenderness. As his
thumbs caressed my cheeks, I sobbed under his touch.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Shhhh," I said. "It's all right."

His mouth was fierce against mine, his hands hard against my back
and waist. "It'll never be all right," he breathed harshly. "God, if only I
could put you in my pocket to keep you safe."

"But you can't," I replied in between his kisses, breathless at the

frenzied way he was trying to comfort me. "And I'll be okay. I have
you, right?"

A rough sound came from his throat. "You have me. I'm yours," he
said in a strained voice. "I'm all yours, every part of me."

He buried his face in my neck, and I grasped his hair. Soft and wild,
it curled up through my fingers.

"Are you mine?" he asked, his breath warm against me. "Please say
you're mine."

Holding me firmly in his arms, he bent me backward. I melted

against him as his mouth moved down to my chest, his fingers
pulling my shirt's collar aside so he could reach my skin there. Under
his touch, my body started to shiver.

"Yes," I gasped. "I'm yours."

"My Tiger Eyes," he said, with a roughness in his voice. "From the
top of your head to the toes of your ridiculous shoes, you're all
mine."

It was so sweet, the gentle feel of his fingers curling around my waist
and holding me to him. I moaned as his lips moved across my skin,
his breath teasing as he continued whispering.

"Every… last… inch of you… is so beautiful. I love you."

His mesmerizing touch, his kisses, were driving me absolutely

batshit. I was hearing things.

As he reached my collarbone, I shivered again, lost to the sensation

of pleasant warmth that tickled my throat. I arched against him, my
head tilted back as he continued his hypnotic, intoxicating assault.

"I love you," he said, not a whisper that time, and there was a
simplistic certainty in his voice before he capped that statement by
pressing a kiss over my heart.

Well, that wasn't my imagination.

As he straightened, I saw that his brow was furrowed and his eyes
were still half-closed, as if he was lost in a moment. Slowly, his eyes
rose to meet mine, and I saw the truth written in longhand there.

Every last inch of me?… went white hot.

He loved me.

I could see it so clearly, now that he'd given words to the emotion
that colored his gaze. Actually, as the last few days of that same
exact look played in my mind, I realized he'd loved me then, too.

"I know it's bad timing. I know it might be too soon," he murmured,
staring unblinking at me as he carried one of my hands to his lips.
His cheeks were flushed, his mouth swollen, his hair a mess, but
he'd never looked more beautiful to me. "But I couldn't not say it
anymore."

Still speechless, I shook my head. Seeing it, his eyes darkened with
resolve.
"I love that you rise to every challenge," he began in a soft, yet steely
tone that left no room for doubt. "I love that you give back as good as
you get, that you're a worrywart who tries to see every scenario. I
love the sound of your voice when you're trying to tell me why I'm
wrong about something." His gaze grew impossibly tender. "And
God, I love your eyes, and how you're looking at me as if I'm crazy
right now."

His face, oh… he was tugging on my heartstrings, untying each and

every one.

He loved me.

As the last string unfurled, my eyes blurred at the onset of too many
overwhelming emotions at once. It was too soon for me to feel the
same, because it had only been a few weeks … but sudden
awareness, heavy and permeating, coursed down the back of my
neck and across my shoulders, until I was gasping at the sweeping
power of it.

I loved him, too.

It didn't make sense, but did it have to?

He was holding me tight against him again, the palm of his hand
pressed against the back of my head. I was clutching the back of his
shirt in a death grip, still going through my own revelation… slow to
hear what he was saying.

"-didn't say that so you'd say it back to me," he crooned. "I know it's
too soon for you, and that's okay, but I couldn't not say it anymore.
I've been swallowing the words, trying to hold back for you because I
didn't want to scare you."

Too late, too late, but I don't want you to feel alone in this.

"Edward." I laugh-choked, breaking free from his grasp to cup that

gorgeous face of his. "I love you, too."
He stared at me, and his mouth opened, but no words came out. He
was obviously stunned, looking at me in disbelief.

"I love you," I whispered, letting my eyes go soft and unguarded.

Seconds passed before his open mouth began curling into a smile
that got wider and wider, and I saw his gaze go shiny with tears.

"You love me," he said, barely a whisper, his face glowing with
boyish joy.

"You snuck my heart out of my chest when I wasn't looking," I

sobbed. "I shouldn't be feeling this way yet, but I do . How could I
not? You… you're… you're… you . So easy and patient with me, and
I know I take a lot of patience. You could've washed your hands of
me months ago-I was so horrible and angry-"

"No," he said, interrupting my thoughts of remorse as he drew me

back against his chest. "You needed me to chase you, to prove I was
worthy of you and your forgiveness. But you… more than anyone,
are worth loving, Tiger Eyes." His lips nuzzled along my temple,
coming to rest against my ear. "And I do."

My heart was turning inside out at his words, at the honeyed silk of
his voice. I pushed myself closer against him, feeling as if I was
something precious. His touch was loving and healing; it had been
from the start, ever since he'd pulled me into his lap and glued the
pieces of me back together.

He made me feel whole in so many ways.

"I began falling in love with you… the night I forgave you," I
confessed, leaning back so he could see it in my eyes.

"You love me," he said again, and the awed shock was still in his
voice. Still in his eyes, making my throat tighten. Didn't he know how
truly special he was? The lost, angry boy he'd been had grown into
the most beautiful man. He made my soul ache with tenderness.
"I love you," I repeated, gentle as a kiss, feeling it in every corner of
my heart.

He brought his forehead to mine, and I sighed as the warm, ragged

exhale of his breath caressed my nose and lips.

We stood that way for a long moment, just trading breaths and being
in love, before he pulled me into his bedroom. Then, we took turns
undressing each other, lovingly exploring each new expanse of skin
that was revealed.

Weeks ago, he'd said I was his One. And so, in loud, silent ways, I
made sure he knew he was my One, too.

A/N: I have a Group on Facebook called Powered by 23 Kicks

Fanfiction where I've been sharing teasers and the occasional
EPOV. Come join us!
Chapter 26
Takeaways

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

and Paige, Aileen, and Deb, my prereaders.

Also, to Lizzie this time around.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 26

Thanksgiving Day dawned cold, gray, and rainy. Since I'd stayed
over at Edward's again, I was relieved I didn't have to go outside in
it. All he and I had to do to get to our Thanksgiving dinner was ride
up his building's elevator seventeen floors to his unofficial, adoptive
parents' condo.

The ride up sent my stomach downward in more ways than one.

Gorgeous with warm brown eyes and long, caramel-colored hair,

Esme Evanson's gentle smile and easygoing manner helped put my
nerves at ease. Knowing she was aware of my history with Edward
had made me a bit self-conscious. With her psychiatric training, what
did she think about a girl who'd fallen for her high school bully? It
sure wasn't a typical boy-meets-girl love story.
"I'm so glad to meet you, Bella. Edward hasn't told us much, but
what he did say was wonderfully intriguing. 'The girl with a tiger's
eyes who has a personality to match.'"

Flushing, I shot Edward a look. Beside me, holding a casserole dish

of rosemary scalloped potatoes, he winked at me and huffed out a
short laugh.

"I don't know about the personality part," I admitted sheepishly.

"We'll just have to trust him," she said with her own wink, and I
realized that was probably where Edward had picked up the habit.
Unless they were sending messages to each other in Morse code,
they were trying to charm me to death. "He's a wonderful judge of
character. Happy Thanksgiving, you two. Come in."

I stepped into the foyer, and immediately, I noticed myself in an oval

mirror situated over a console table. Edward, standing behind me
and seeing my double take, grinned at my reflection.

"No one appreciates the mirror," Esme remarked lightly as she pulled
Edward into a quick hug. "Hi, honey." And then she turned back to
me with a crooked smile. "But I once walked out of the house with a
dryer sheet stuck to my shoulder, so it's my last appearance check.
Plus, I think it brightens up this little corner well."

I followed her from the gray marble flooring onto carpeting so thick
that I nearly wobbled. Like Edward's condo, the far wall was mostly a
row of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bay, but with a much
better view. Where Edward's had cherry wood floors with cream area
rugs, this place was a contrast in whites and dusty blues. With its
polished wall sconces and strategically placed mirrors, the living
room looked like the inside of a jewelry box.

I had a sudden urge to take off my shoes.

Edward took my hand with his free one, then leaned close.
"Nobody bites here," he whispered, misunderstanding my hesitation.

"I'm going to be afraid to touch anything," I murmured as we passed

the dining room. It was set back under an arched alcove, where a
long, beautifully decorated gray trestle table was set for dinner.

As we neared the gently curved island that separated the kitchen

from the sprawling living room, a blond-haired man stepped around
the side of it. Wearing a sky blue sweater that matched his intense
gaze, he was as striking as his wife.

"You must be Bella," he said with a wide smile, rubbing his hands on
a dishtowel that he then flipped over his shoulder. "You're as lovely
as Edward described."

"You two are embarrassing her," Edward said sotto voce, as he

released me and set down his casserole dish to accept Carlisle's
hug.

"You'll have to forgive us if we're overly enthusiastic about you being

here," Carlisle said. Judging from the way his eyes crinkled in the
corners, and the exaggerated arch of his brow, he was more than
pleased to see us. "Edward's never brought a guest before."

Carlisle was a great jokester, according to Edward. He'd once stuffed

tissues into the toes of all of Esme's shoes, making her think she'd
outgrown them; and, he also routinely left Post-It Notes of love for
her in unusual places, which I thought was adorable.

"Thank you for having me," I said, and I knew my smile was too
wide, but there was just something about him. "Edward told me…
you like to stir the pot."

Carlisle's smile spread Grinch-like across his face. "Today, I'm only
allowed to stir a literal pot of gravy. I've been sworn to good
behavior," he said in a gentle, self-deprecating manner.
"Not on my account, I hope," I joked. "A little bad behavior can be
entertaining, and isn't that part of what the holidays are about?"

" Definitely a tiger," Esme drawled, as Carlisle chuckled, rubbing his

hands together in glee. "She'll fit right in with you boys."

"Speaking of…" Edward said. "Where are Paul and Embry?"

Esme motioned us over to the seating surrounding one side of the

island, then poured white wine into the glasses sitting there.

"Well, Paul should be here any moment, and Embry is bringing

someone. He stressed that she's still just a friend, though. She's the
daughter of a defendant in a case he's won."

As I sipped my wine, I learned that Paul, some type of engineer, was

gay and in between relationships.

"And he's not happy about it, either, so be nice," Esme cautioned
Edward.

"I'm always nice," he replied with his hands in the air.

"That said, neither of them can wait to meet the girl who's captured
your heart," she added.

Edward swore under his breath at that, and pulled me back against
his chest.

"Don't believe everything they say," he whispered against my temple.

"I was just waiting for the right girl."

When he stepped into the kitchen with Carlisle to place his casserole
dish into the warmer, Esme came to stand close beside me.

"I've never seen him so happy," she began in a hushed tone. "And I
know how trite that sounds, but it's true, nonetheless. He's always
been rather quiet and reserved, but lately, I've noticed a certain
confidence in his manner. He's always belonged with us, but I can
tell he truly feels as if he does now. So thank you."

I was taken aback, both by the fervency in her words and the look in
her eyes. "I… haven't really done anything," I murmured as I flushed.

Her rather fierce expression went soft. "Oh, you've done everything,
Bella."

With a parting wink, she moved into the kitchen to supervise Carlisle
as he pulled the turkey out of the oven to baste, leaving me
astonished. It was difficult to imagine Edward being quiet-I'd only
ever seen him confidently vocal and in charge. Of course, that had
been at work. I'd never witnessed how he'd behaved around his
chosen family, but it was easy to imagine how he might not have felt
as if he belonged-because of his past, because he'd never known
love. And because he wasn't adopted like the other two were. He'd
said more than once that he'd been lonely.

I gazed at him as he stood at the open oven with Esme and Carlisle,
arguing about whether or not the turkey was brown enough, and who
was going to be the one to lift the bird. As they teased each other, it
was obvious to me they loved him, and that he was happy. Seeing
his easy joy made my throat tighten. If I had anything to do with that
look on his face, I was humbly grateful.

When Paul arrived, he was wearing a cowboy hat and a heavily

decorated shirt with tassels across the chest, something that took his
family by surprise.

"Where are your chaps?" Edward asked laughingly.

"I save those for private times," he answered with an evil grin, and
more than one person winced. He handed Esme the pie he held,
then pulled off the hat, setting it on a side table.

I thought he was good-looking in an unconcerned, endearing way,

even with his brown, hat-crushed hair.
Bowing exaggeratedly over my hand, he aimed his grin at me.

"So you're the girl who caught Eddie-boy."

"No, I caught her," Edward broke in before I could reply.

"Howdy, partner," I said, and he winked at me.

Of course.

Embry's arrival was more subdued, and his cool gaze subjected me
to a close perusal that made me nervous. In no way did he look like
someone who winked. He was tall and model-thin, as was the sweet,
shy-looking woman beside him.

"So you work for Edward?" he asked in a confused manner.

"She works with me," Edward answered firmly, drawing Embry's

gaze to him. The two men studied each other silently, and then
Embry nodded.

"Okay," he said. "It's complicated, I'm sure."

"Embry," Esme said in a mom voice .

"Just trying to get the facts," he commented and shrugged.

"Gathering information for a case, are ya?" Paul asked as he

clapped Embry hard enough on the back to make him stumble
forward a step. With a smirk, Embry drove his elbow back into Paul's
stomach.

"Following my nature," he answered as Paul bent forward with a gust

of breath.

"Yes, we work with each other," Edward said, his tone easy, his
hands warm on my shoulders. "The CEOs are aware of this, and are
okay with it, so I hope you guys are, too."
Embry ran a hand through his dark blond hair in a smooth gesture.
"It's interesting, that's all."

"It wasn't planned, believe me," I told him, my gaze briefly sweeping
across everyone. I knew this was noteworthy, but I also wanted them
to know I was in it with both feet. "I'm aware of the complications
about dating someone I work with, but I decided Edward was worth
the risk. We've discussed it more than once."

I turned slightly to meet Edward's searching gaze.

"We don't mind if you have questions," I admitted while holding his
gaze, and I saw his face relax.

There was a pause, and then Paul spoke.

"Ever kiss over the water cooler?"

Embry coughed out a sound of laughter, and Edward lightly smacked

the back of Paul's head.

"The water cooler's pretty tall," I said, going with it. "I doubt we could
manage it. No, we mostly stick with the supply closet. Edward's a VP,
so we have to protect his reputation."

Paul's mouth dropped open and his gray eyes lit up like candles.

"I like her," he told us.

Hearing it had me lighting up inside like a candle. Although Embry's

gaze was still appraising, he also looked a bit friendlier. But it was
okay-I liked that they were protective of Edward, that they seemed to
want to get to know me.

"I love you," Edward whispered, lips at my ear.

Blooming red under everyone's gaze, but trying not to care, I turned
my head to kiss his cheek, and Paul started to sing .
" At last, my love has come along

My lonely days are over."

By the last line, everyone but Embry and his guest were singing
along cheesily.

" And life is like a song!"

It wasn't at all how I envisioned my first meeting with Edward's

chosen family would go. Life was odd.

Thanksgiving at the Evanson's was like a Bon Appétit spread come

to life with all of the colorful serving dishes and the variety of food.
There were two kinds of potatoes, two kinds of dressing, and all of
the other usual holiday fare-certainly enough to feed a small army.
Or four grown men with ravenous appetites, who were chastised to
wait for grace before beginning. After Carlisle performed the honors,
we all took turns saying what we were grateful for in our life.

Esme was tearfully grateful for all her kids being there, while Carlisle
went deep, talking about friends and family, and how important it was
to appreciate those you chose to let into your life.

When it was Edward's turn, he reached for my hand.

"I'm grateful for forgiveness," he said tenderly, gazing deeply into my

eyes, making my heart flip.

"And I'm grateful for second chances," I murmured back, captured by

his adoring gaze, the soft flush on his cheeks, the widening curve of
his mouth… he was all I saw.

"I'm grateful for turkey and mashed potatoes," Paul said, breaking us
out of our bubble.

It sparked a good-natured mini argument between the three young

men about insensitivity and embarrassing PDAs, something that
made Esme shake her head, and Carlisle comment about how well
they played together. The two of them were obviously used to the
boisterously loud voices and teasing laughter. Having grown up as a
single child, where Thanksgiving involved dinner on TV trays in front
of a football game, I was at first astonished, and then charmed. I
doubted dinner at the Evanson's would ever be quiet or boring.

Later, cleanup duty was assigned to the men, who grumbled and
joked about who was going to portion out the leftovers, and who had
to do the dishes.

Claire, Embry's guest, followed me and Esme over to the u-shaped

couch near the windows. Except for a rather startling laugh that
sounded a little like a donkey braying, Claire had been mostly quiet.
I'd caught her looking wistfully at Embry more than once, and
wondered how long it would be before Embry admitted she was
more than just a friend.

"You'll get used to us," Esme said as Carlisle took a place at the
sink. Apparently, he'd lost the argument. "It's not often that we're
able to get the boys together, but when we do, they make up for lost
time."

"I think it's wonderful," I replied softly, wondering how Dad was doing
over at Sue Clearwater's.

He'd been dating her off and on for years. She was the perfect
woman for him-she knew how to gut, clean, and cook the fish he
caught, and she knew how to be steady and devoted without
hovering. I hoped they'd marry one day.

"You come from a small family?" Esme wondered, as Claire excused

herself to use the restroom.

I reached for my glass of wine sitting on the coffee table. "I'm an only
child of parents who are both also an only child. I lost my mother in
high school, so it's just my dad and me."
She gave me a gentle smile as she folded one of her legs
underneath herself. "You must be close then?"

"Not as close as I would like. I haven't told him about Edward yet," I
admitted with a sheepish shrug. "All he knows is that I'm working for
someone I used to hate from high school. I'm not sure how to bring it
up with him. My… relationship with Edward happened suddenly, in
just the past few weeks. He and I weren't exactly… reconnecting this
past year."

Her eyebrows rose. "Ah. And how long have you been with the
company?"

I counted back in my head to April, when I'd started. "It's been just
over seven months."

Emotionally, it seemed a hell of a lot longer than that.

I'd begun the position angry and closed off, then had taken an
extended trip through the wringer with Edward. There'd been the
awkward discussion after the karaoke confrontation, my dawning
recognition of horror that I was beginning to like him, the
uncomfortable meeting at Bar Allegro when I'd thought to find
someone to fuck my mind off him… and the damned confusing
feelings of attraction after I learned he was actively pursuing me.
Then, there was the embarrassing misunderstanding about Riley
when I damn near cried in front of him in his office. And just as I
believed I'd come to terms with everything after breaking down that
time at the yoga studio, Edward pulled the rug out from under my
feet by ignoring me. My world had been knocked off its axis. That
had me angrily confronting him, which led to our emotional
conversations, when I learned he wasn't who I thought he was at all.
Astonishing and sudden, my life had gone from black and white to
glorious Technicolor. The gray concrete sidewalks I walked upon had
shifted into yellow brick leading straight to Oz, where I'd fallen at the
wizard's feet. He'd pulled me up, and that was it, I'd promptly fallen in
love.
Just thinking about it all had me shaking my head.

"It happens that way sometimes. So unexpectedly quick that you're

left gasping in the wake," Esme murmured, a faraway look in her
eyes. "It was like that with Carlisle. We met under rather dramatic
circumstances. A drunk driver in a pickup truck ran a red light and T-
boned my VW Bug. Pinned me against the door and the steering
wheel."

I gasped through the emotion evoked by her words, unable to stop

from imagining my mother being pinned in her car.

"I was hurt badly and panicking, and then Carlisle was there," Esme
was saying. "He saw the whole thing happen. He… had an easy way
about him that calmed me down. He was actually studying to
become a pediatrician at the time, so he had some medical training."

Her head bent, and she studied the contents in her own wine glass
before glancing up at me again with a soft smile.

"He stayed with me until the fire department arrived. Then, he visited
me in the hospital. Told the staff I was his sister. Momma was
charmed by him, but no less than I was. By the time I was released
to go back home, I knew I loved him."

"That is dramatic," I mentioned thinly, then cleared my throat.

Esme's forehead wrinkled, and she looked at me sharply.

"What is it?"

With a sigh, I bowed my head briefly. "My mother was killed in a car
accident. Hearing you talk about yours kind of brought it back."

Her hand warmed my knee. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Bella."

"No, I'm all right," I insisted. "I liked hearing about the way you and
Carlisle met. It makes me appreciate my own whirlwind romance
with Edward. Maybe we're not so crazy after all."
We both eyed Edward across the room as he accepted a dripping
dinner plate from Embry, then slid it into the dishwasher rack. I could
see the two of them talking quietly as they worked.

"I definitely wouldn't call either of you crazy," Esme remarked.

I bit my lip nervously, then forged ahead. "You don't think it's… odd
that I've fallen for him? I mean, considering my past with him?"

Her eyes were openly kind as she gazed at me. "It's not odd at all
when you consider Edward transformed from an abused, hurt,
traumatized teen into someone loving, kind, and compassionate. It's
given him an unerring sense of understanding and empathy he
wouldn't otherwise have with you. You couldn't be with him if not for
that," she said with a note of pride in her voice, and I nodded,
because it was true. I'd felt the proof of it more than once.

"You two were given an unexpected chance not many people get-the
opportunity to talk through your past history, to hash it all out, to
share your anger. You know firsthand what the two of you went
through, and you've seen how far you've both come."

And there came the tears as I remembered the vulnerability, the

painful truths, the bittersweet power of that night again. Seeing it all,
Esme gave me a knowing glance as she continued.

"I think you both understand all that each of you has had to
overcome in a way no one else ever will. You've been honest with
each other. And, obviously, the two of you are good at
communication. It's a wonderful gift, Bella."

"It wasn't easy at first," I admitted, feeling a sharp twinge of guilt that
most of our misunderstandings had been due to my unrelenting
anger.

"Oh, it usually isn't," she said. "It's something you have to learn, and
continue to work at. But, I'm so proud of you both. Each of you has
been able to separate the teens you used to be from the adults you
are today. That takes strength, courage, and understanding for the
other. It seems like a hell of a solid foundation for a relationship to
me."

I wiped at my eyes as she leaned forward in a confiding manner.

"Not to mention, my Edward is darn easy to like," she whispered with

a wink.

"He is," I agreed, noticing he was looking my way with a look of

concern on his face. I shook my head and smiled.

"Later," I mouthed to him.

Before anything else could be said, Claire returned, and Esme

guided us into an easy conversation that helped us learn about each
other. She drew us out by asking us silly questions about our favorite
dance moves, things we had beside our bed, and if we had any
secret talents. When the men joined us later, Claire was
enthusiastically explaining why she'd love to live in Harry Potter's
world.

When everyone said their goodbyes a few hours later, I felt the need
to hug Esme and Carlisle. They were beautiful people; they were
good for Edward. They were his parents.

Anthony's death might have saved Edward's life, but I was certain
they had helped give it meaning.

Later that night, I ran the pads of my fingers along Edward's bare
back in bed. We were naked, our limbs still entangled, his breath
tickling my chest. And I was wondering if I should ask why Carlisle
and Esme hadn't adopted him; because it was obvious they loved
him like a son. That he loved them as if they were his parents.

"Can I… ask you something personal?" I murmured, bringing one of

my hands up to wind my fingers into the silk of his hair.
Can I ask you something that might hurt?

His laughter was deep and teasing, and then he looked up at me

with a tender expression on his face. When he spoke, the caress in
his voice made my toes curl.

"You can always ask me anything, Tiger Eyes."

I gently pulled his head back down against me. He hummed as I

began running my fingers through his hair.

"I googled something the other day," I began tentatively. "I was
wondering… if it was possible for an adult to be adopted. And I
learned that once a person turns eighteen… all he needs is to give
his consent."

I bit my lip and squeezed my eyes shut as the arm across my

stomach tensed.

"And you're wondering why Carlisle and Esme haven't adopted me,"
he said matter-of-fact.

I exhaled, relieved he'd answered.

"Yes. If you don't mind sharing, that is," I whispered, hoping it wasn't
a sore subject. Just in case it was, I pressed a kiss against the top of
his head.

"It's not because they haven't asked. They have, more than once."

Uh-oh.

His fingers clenched and unclenched around my waist, and I

continued playing with his hair soothingly. Finally, he spoke again, in
a soft, wistful tone that made my throat tighten.

"I know it's a lie my subconscious is telling me, but I haven't felt
worthy enough to be their son. I've learned how to forgive myself for
what I did to you, but apparently, I can't get past the reasons why my
parents were the way they were about us. Part of me can't help but
hope that, one day, they'll wake up and realize that losing two sons is
too much."

It stung, hearing his words. After all he'd been through with his shitty
parents, part of him still wanted their love and acceptance.

Don't cry. You have to be strong for him.

"Because they haven't, it's made me feel less than worthy. I wish to
God it weren't true, but it's taken a toll on me." He swallowed hard.
"If my own parents don't love me, who can?"

I tipped his face up to mine and saw his eyes were black with sorrow.

" Me," I said fiercely. "I love you. Because every last inch of you is
worth loving, Edward. And you know what a tough customer I am.
Do you think I'd give my heart to just anyone?"

His eyes closed, his mouth curving into a small, lopsided smile.

" You are the reason why I'm so damned happy right now," I said
with a strained hitch in my voice. "You are why my heart races, why I
can't catch my breath, and why I wake up smiling. You're the reason
why I no longer hate or fear who I was and am."

Please hear me.

"Who was it that forced me to face my fears? Who comforted me

while I cried out all that rage? Who put me back together after I fell
the hell apart? It sure wasn't the usual boy next door. I am who I am
right now because of you . Because you saw past all my hate and
anger. And that makes you very, very fucking lovable."

Cupping his chin, I pulled him close and kissed his forehead. His
cheeks. His pouty mouth.

"Fucking loveable?" He smiled.

" Fucking loveable. Don't you dare think you're not."

He laid his head back down with a heavy sigh, tightened his grip on
me, and curled his body closer to mine. Tightening my own grip, I
desperately wished the force of my love could sink into his pores
soul-deep and heal his heart.

"They don't deserve you," I whispered heatedly, drawing my fingers

through the fine strands of his hair.

Edward was quiet for a long moment after my remark.

"I keep expecting my father to reach out to me, to ask why I haven't
spent any of the money he always used to threaten me with," he
finally said. "He used to think my inheritance was all I cared about,
so he has to wonder… why it's still there, untouched."

"He should know." I pulled lightly at his hair. "It's the ultimate fuck
you ."

I imagined a hook-nosed man, scowling as he studied an untouched

bank account statement. I hoped to God he felt a certain kind of
despair every time he saw it, each time he realized again and again
that Edward didn't need him. Didn't want him. I hoped his guts roiled
with it.

"I let him pay for college, for my boarding, but after that, I never
accepted a dime," Edward said with a shuddering sigh against my
chest. "But he never mentioned anything about it. Never asked why I
didn't touch my inheritance."

His voice sounded lost. Confused.

"From what you've told me, he was overly conscious about money.
That you're not, probably confuses and angers him. He has no
power over you anymore, so he doesn't know how to talk to you," I
surmised.
Edward shrugged a little, and I knew the little boy in him still hoped
for something from his father. It killed me.

"After college… I had a rude awakening. I was broke and living in a

dump too close to Riverdale, having to work as a barista because I
couldn't find a good job, even with my degree. Esme and Carlisle
kept asking me to move in with them, just until I was on my feet, but I
was determined to make it on my own. Even so, I was almost at the
breaking point. Too close to touching the money," he admitted, his
body going stiff. "It would have felt as if I was betraying Anthony if I
took it, though, so I resisted. But God, it hurt, knowing it was there
and it could've helped me."

I pressed my mouth against the shell of his ear, unable to fully

understand how tough his life had been. In his position, I'd have felt
the same pull, and who knew if I'd have been strong enough to
resist.

"It was when I was at my lowest point that I met Colin. He used to
come into the Starbucks where I worked on the weekends, and we'd
talk about the Chicago Bulls and how we were afraid they were
going to lose the season. He used to get so worked up about it,
because he was sure the new coach would turn things around… and
it just wasn't happening," he said with dark amusement in his voice.

"I was twenty-two at the time, getting frustrated that I couldn't find a
job in my chosen field. All the positions I interviewed for wanted
someone with experience, but if I couldn't even get hired, I'd never
get any experience." He shook his head against my chest, and I ran
the pad of my thumb across one of his thick eyebrows.

"And one day I made an offhand comment about how maybe social
media could be used to help boost the Bulls' player morale, and
thus, their performance, and that's when I learned Colin owned a
marketing firm. Two weeks later, I started as one of his Junior
Account Managers."

"Wow, talk about a happy coincidence," I remarked.

Edward pushed himself up to his elbows, knocking my hand away
from his hair. I let it fall to the well-muscled curve of his shoulder, and
he turned to kiss the sensitive inside of my arm.

"From that point on, I knew I could make it on my own. I knew I'd
never ask my father for anything ever again. It was such a huge
relief. Not to mention personally validating."

His words were strong, but his eyes were shiny with tears.

"But it still tears me up inside that he never… I mean, money was all
he ever cared about."

"And now it's all he has," I said, framing his face with my hands. "It's
such a poor consolation prize next to who you are. He's missing out
on knowing you, Edward. Knowing the amazing man you've become.
They both are missing out on the best of you."

He made a sad face and shrugged again.

"You're just going to have to take my word for it, baby," I said simply,
my thumbs caressing his cheeks. "I know who you are right now a
hell of a lot better than either of your birth parents. So do Esme and
Carlisle."

His mouth spread into the smile he reserved just for me.

"I love you," he told me in an urgent tone. "You know that, right?"

"With all my heart," I replied, losing my breath at that fierce look on

his face. "Just as I love you."

And when he bent his head to me, I put all of that love into my kiss.

A/N: I have a Group on Facebook called Powered by 23 Kicks

Fanfiction where I've been sharing teasers and the occasional
EPOV. Come join us!
Chapter 27
Karma

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

and Paige, Aileen, and Deb, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 27

"I want to make love in your bed tonight," Edward told me a few days
later on Sunday. Although his words were direct, his voice held a
note of soft entreaty. "I want to immerse myself in all areas of your
life."

From where I reclined on his couch, I looked away from my iPad and
considered him with an arched eyebrow. Wearing a soft gray T-shirt
and loose, plaid pajama bottoms, one of his bare feet nudged my
socked one playfully. His head was propped up on one of the couch
pillows at the other end from me, his hair tousled attractively. And
those eyes. Yeah, he knew how to use them. At half-mast, they shot
me a look that made my chest go light.

"We're already immersed in each other's lives," I drawled teasingly,

as his toes inched up my ankle. "I already eat, sleep, and breathe
you. Not that I'm complaining, because I'm not. I like being with you.
I just don't think I'm ready to do all of this at my place."
"I think we are," he said, pushing his entire foot into the opening of
my pajama leg. Somehow, he began to tug down the pants. "I think
your apartment is getting lonely without you. Your bed, especially."

I scoffed. "My double -sized bed, the one that will barely contain
you?"

He pulled the left side of my pajama bottoms down to just below my

hip bone.

"That's the one," he insisted.

My fingers hooked into my waistband. Thing was, I couldn't budge

them; he'd managed to get his foot into the thigh space of my pants,
and they were going nowhere.

"Hey!"

"Pretty pink panties," he noted as his head briefly lifted to peek down
at me with a devilish grin.

"Edward. I don't think it's a good idea."

"Why? Because you're afraid someone will see us? Someone

already did, Bella, and it was outside my place."

"I don't want to hit people over the head with our status, okay?"

"On the off-chance someone sees us around your place? Come on.
You're allowed to live your life."

"Am I allowed to keep my pants on?"

He moved the laptop on his stomach to the floor beside him, then sat
up in one smooth move. Wrapping his fingers around my ankles, he
tugged me down to him until I was resting against his semi-erect
bulge, and my legs were wrapped around his waist.

"Am I allowed to sleep in your bed?" he asked me.

Damn it. Pretty boy was going to press the issue.

I set my iPad somewhere behind me on the couch cushion, then

smoothed my hands across his warm, firm stomach. His gaze
dropped briefly to my belly, where my top had ridden up to my
breasts. As his eyes returned to mine, his hands came up to cradle
the sides of my ribs, the thumbs sweeping lingeringly just below the
band of my bra.

"You won't be as comfortable there," I said with a sigh, and squirmed

against him because I couldn't help myself.

His fingers flexed, and his sultry stare caught fire as he began
hardening.

"I'll be with you."

I tightened my legs, sliding myself up along his length. On the way

back down, my movement pulled the top of his pants away from the
tip of his naked cock.

"And are we going to hold hands on our walk into work?"

I'd meant the words to sound derogatory, but they came out all
breathless and sexy sounding.

A slow smile spread across his face as his thumbs swept across my
covered nipples. "Definitely. I might even pull you close for a kiss if
someone stares long enough."

"Oh, my God," I exclaimed.

He nodded and bit his lip, then inserted his fingertips under the cups
of my bra, pushing it up and back across my hard nipples.

"Fuck, you have the prettiest tits," he breathed.

He leaned forward, obstructing my view of his cock, then sucked a

nipple into his mouth. I cried out and arched as he bit and kissed me
there.

"This is the eating you and breathing you phase," he said against the
underside of my breast, and I giggled as he kissed his way over to
the opposite side. "And I could just eat you whole, beautiful girl.
Please say I can do bad things to you in your bed."

It was difficult to concentrate with his mouth at my breast, with the

lingering way his hands were moving down to cup my ass. Definitely
mind-blowing as he pulled me firmly against his erection, causing
sparks to race up my back. God, he was so good at teasing.

His soft hair was brushing against my chin, and I buried my fingers in
it, tugging him back so I could see his face. I found such soft devilry
in his beautiful eyes, and the way he smiled at me stole my breath.
How could I not give him what he wanted?

"You're not playing fairly," I whispered.

"I never have," he murmured back, pulling against my grip to run his
nose along the side of my cheek. "So you might as well give in. My
next move is the cannon, and totally destroying your defenses."

"Oh, no, not the cannon," I said, moving one hand down to wrap my
fingers around the smooth, hot thickness of him. Hips flexing, he
thrust into my palm. "Feels dangerously close to exploding. What
else have you got?"

I squealed as he bore me back down against the couch. We wrestled

like a pair of horny teenagers, our bodies sliding sinfully together as
we tried to tickle each other to death. Being stronger, he was much
better at it, better at holding me down while his mouth swept
teasingly across my upper chest. His fingers were digging into my
sides at the same time they were pulling my PJ bottoms down even
farther. I raised my hips to buck him off me, and he was able to tug
my panties down to my upper thighs. Then, nearly breathless from
laughter, I helped him push them all the way off. After that, we both
helped with pulling off the rest of our clothing, until we were bare and
tangled and silky hot against each other.

Propped above me, resting on his forearms and holding my hands

hostage, he slid his cock through my wetness. All too ready for him, I
raised my knees, opening for him, inviting him inside.

"You give in?" he asked, picking up the pace slightly.

Ugh, it felt so good. The flared head was dragging against my clit in
the most perfect way. Seeing it, feeling it, he moved the same way
again and again, all in that maddening pace. If he sped up just a
little, I could catch that sweet itch…

"Bella?"

My hips tilted as everything began to race from deep inside me.

Faster.

"Hunh?"

He stopped moving, and I blinked up at him in confusion.

"Why'd you stop?" I gasped, and his sexy, impassioned face

rearranged into one of mirth.

Damn. My apartment. He was still on that?

I lowered my feet and, unable to stop myself, pushed myself up

against him, craving the wet slide.

"Yes, okay? Yes, you can stay."

He fed the ache again-once, twice, three times-before slowing to a

stop again.

"Stop stopping," I complained in a whine, which turned into a happy

note as he slid down my body.
"You're cute when you're on the edge," he told me, and pressed a
kiss teasingly high against the inside of my thigh. "I wonder what
else I could get you to agree to."

"No, oh, no," I murmured as he bent close enough for me to feel his
breath. "I mean yes."

A hard swipe of his tongue tore a cry from my throat. The flat
slickness delved deep, then slid high right where I needed it. He
sucked my clit into his mouth, then began licking there with single-
minded purpose, a motion that had me gyrating in time. I could feel
my limbs shaking with the onset. It was coming; I was almost there…

"I want us to move in together."

Throat dry, body thrumming, I stared at him in confusion. It took

longer than it should have for his words to really sink in.

"What, now ?"

He barked out a short laugh, then bent to give me a lick that made
my body jolt with glee.

"Not now, but soon. Okay?"

His tongue was back, slick fire against the ache, and I moaned as he
drove me hard and high. So good, but…

"You can't… ahhhh… ask me things… now."

"Think about it." I heard before he was back again, pushing the wave
inside me to impossible heights. So close, right there…

"Don't stop, don't stop, please don't stop," I babbled, and he didn't.

But because he'd stopped so many times before, the feeling was
taking that much longer to build… and I was going to die when it hit-I
was going to die. It just kept growing bigger the more his tongue
went high, growing harder, until it finally and languorously crashed
over me like a sledgehammer.

A while later, I released the death-hold I had on his hair, still panting
like I'd run a marathon.

"You can't say stuff like that to me when you're doing that," I said,
sounding drugged. "I can't concentrate."

He rose to his knees, grinning at me wickedly before he wiped his

mouth. Then, holding one of my thighs high, he slid into me with one
smooth move. Stealing more of my reason and concentration.

"What do you think about it?" he asked, stroking inside high and
hard. Scarily, unerringly, wonderfully, hitting right where I needed
him. "Us moving in together?"

I squeezed him internally, feeling a moment of satisfaction when he

grunted, looking as if he was in beautiful pain. And then his thrusts
became harder, sharper.

"How… can you… focus at a time like this?"

"My skills are legendary," he said with a slight hitch in his voice. "And
I go after what I want. In this case, you."

The more I squeezed him, the faster and higher his strokes went.
But, my concentration skills paled in comparison to his, at least while
he was inside of me, stroking my G-spot, and driving me berserk.

"Ahhhh," I said. "You… want… me."

"I want you."

Low, sweet voice.

Tender, fiery eyes.

"All… the time?"

"Fuck yes. I love you."

It warmed me from the inside out for more than one reason. We'd
spent every day together the last couple of weeks, and he still
wanted more of me. It was the same for me, the feeling that I'd never
get enough, the craving I had for him when I wasn't beside him. And
every time we were together this way only solidified our connection.
My heartstrings were knotted to his. My body, his. And, God, did he
know how to play it.

I cried out, arching against him as I fell deeper into sensation. It

seemed effortless for him to hold me high and in place as he moved
inside me, but his smooth movements were gradually becoming
choppy.

"Come for me again," he demanded, gravel in his tone.

Eyes penetrating and dark, he followed me down. Unable to look

away from him, my hand tightened spasmodically around his wrist
held low at my thigh. He turned slightly, pressing a kiss against the
inside of my ankle, and I felt it everywhere. A fever was crawling up
my legs and down my back, coming for me, and, oh, God. It met in a
crescendo deep inside my stomach so powerful that my scream was
silent. I was both stiff and quivering with it, as he held himself still
and hard against me, groaning raggedly in his own release.

My awareness returned to find him collapsed on top of me, his nose

pressed against my throat and breath hot on my chest. His grip was
almost tight around my shoulder, as if he was afraid to release me.

I ran my fingers through his hair soothingly, then gave one of the
strands a meaningful tug.

"So, are we going to have all our serious conversations while making
love?"

Lifting his head, he moved to kiss one of my nipples, tonguing me

shamelessly.
"Why not? It puts us both into agreeable moods," he replied and
winked at me.

"You can't just use your charm and legendary sex moves to get what
you want," I told him accusingly, then burst into laughter at the look
of mock shock on his face. "You know what I mean. You have to play
fair."

He teased the tip of my nose with his. "I definitely don't. And won't,
so you can't say you haven't been warned."

I tried to ignore what his eyes did to my heart. What that smile did to
my stomach. How much I just wanted to give in. Because I had stuff
to say .

"Moving in together is a big step. Huge. I mean, we spend our days

together at work--"

"We do not spend our days together while at work," he refuted,

propping himself up on his elbows above me. "I'm in my office, you're
in yours. And, you no longer report to me."

"But how do you know we're ready for this, Edward? I mean, we've
only been together a month."

His face lit up with joy. Looking at him was like being force-fed
champagne.

"How many days have we spent apart since the first time we made
love? One. And what did you say about that night? That time apart
hurt more than it helped you."

He pressed his smile against mine once, twice.

"I'm not asking you to move in now; I'm asking you to think about
doing it soon. As soon as you can, anyway. I want your clothes in the
closet next to mine. I want to see your hairbrush on the bathroom
counter. I want that god-awful afghan of yours on the back of my
couch, and your family photos hanging on the wall. I want to fall
asleep every night with my arm around you, my hand cupping your
breast. I want it all, Bella."

Dangerous . He was wonderfully dangerous, painting those pictures.

"You haven't even met my dad," I squeaked, my throat tight with

emotion. "And, my apartment lease isn't up for months yet. What
about my bed? My couch? All my things?"

One of his hands came up to smooth the hair at the side of my face.
With a look of tender patience on his face, he swept a thumb
beneath one of my eyes.

"I'd love to meet your dad, whenever you're ready."

"You'll… come with me to Seattle?"

"Of course. Forks is off the table, but Seattle is all right," he
answered, the thumb tracing down to my cheek to the tip of my chin.
"And, we could buy out the rest of your lease, or you can hold on to
the apartment until it's up. We can put your couch and sofa in the
spare guest room, or we can donate them. The rest of your things
will come with you."

I exhaled slowly. I couldn't believe I was actually considering this.

"My decorating style doesn't exactly match yours."

"This place will become our style, then."

"What if you don't like something about me? Something horrible that
you'll only discover about me months after I've given up all of my
stuff and my apartment, and it's too late to go back?"

He gave me a look of confused amusement.

"You mean, like the way you'll leave hair in the drain? Or, how you'll
leave your shoes just lying around? That you'll burn the bottom of
one of my saucepans when you cook rice? How loudly you snore?"

I sniffed. I couldn't see him through the tears in my eyes, but…

"I do not snore."

His lips brushed my ear. "Oh, but you do. Softly, like an overweight
cat. It's adorable."

"You say that now . Who knows what you'll think a year from now."

"A year from now, I'll be even more in love with you, and unable to
live without you or your snoring."

We both wiped at the tears on my cheeks, and then, resting my chin

on his forefinger, he made me look at him.

"I told you weeks ago that you are my one, Tiger Eyes. Do you know
what's changed since then?"

He leaned close to press his mouth against mine, then moved his
lips across my cheek to my ear. "Nothing," he whispered. "Absolutely
nothing, except I'm even more sure of how I feel. Move in with me.
Soon."

His kiss started slow and tender, then grew into gentle probing. The
soft wet satin of his mouth pressed shorter and shorter against mine,
as if in question: Will you move in with me? Do you love me? Want
me like I want you? My God, I loved how he went about trying to get
what he wanted-sneaking his gentle way through and around every
corner of my heart, obliterating all resistance.

"I love you," I said against his whiskery jaw, before I pressed my own
kiss there. Pulling his head down, I brushed my lips across the shell
of his ear. "I love you. Of course, I'll move in with you. Soon."

With a sound suspiciously like a giggle, he wrapped himself around

me in a full-body hug, peppering kisses all across my face.
I loved how he loved me.

Early the next morning, I turned away from the counter in the
lunchroom to find Tanya smirking at me as she spoke quietly to the
woman beside her. They were standing just inside the doorway, so it
was going to be impossible to leave without passing them. And
Tanya could have been talking about the weather, but from the
startled look on the woman's face, I knew it was much more than just
the expected forecast of snow flurries.

Everything inside me stilled, fell, and then hardened.

So it was beginning.

Taking a breath, I raised my chin and moved their way. I wasn't going
to hide or act cowed. Edward loved me. He and the partners
supported me, damn it, and I was going to behave that way. Fuck
her and the broom she rode in on.

"Good morning, Bella," Tanya purred as I neared. "How are things in

the Marketing Department now I'm gone?"

Did she really expect me to make small talk?

"Smoother than a newborn's ass," I replied, sidestepping her neatly.

"Oh, I bet," she agreed, turning confidingly to the woman standing

behind her. The woman's mouth was still parted in surprise from
whatever Tanya had mentioned to her. "I'm sure with me out of the
way, her boss can easily focus on what really matters."

That brought me to a stop.

Whispering behind my back was something I couldn't prevent, but if

she was going to be stupid enough to confront me a second time, I
had to stand up for myself.
"And what would that be, since you seem to be all knowing when it
comes to my life and work here?"

Although I was furious and shaking inside, it didn't show as I stared

indifferently at Tanya.

Then, I felt my grip around my coffee cup jerk lightly when nerves got
the better of me.

"I know a lot more than most, it's true," she admitted in a voice as
cool as mine, her lips curving into a smile. Like a snake. I was barely
holding myself together, while she was getting off on this. "I didn't
ask for any of it, it just kind of fell into my lap. But I keep my eyes
open. I notice things out of the norm. For instance, how many times
you were called into Edward's office during the first four months of
your employment. Were you that bad of an employee, or was it
something else?"

I couldn't believe Tanya was raising that point again. This time, in
front of someone else.

How stupid was she?

Was she losing it?

"Excuse me," the woman beside Tanya said as she shrank away. I
thought she looked queasy, and definitely uncomfortable.

Tanya was visibly dismayed.

"You lost your audience," I stated.

Then, with my breath rattling unevenly in my throat, I moved away

from her. Each step was something I felt through my entire body as I
headed toward my desk. The hair on my head prickled as I felt
Tanya's gaze following me.

That was when I noticed the Office Manager, Jane, coming my way.
Hair slicked back into a high chignon, eyeglasses halfway down the
bridge of her nose, iPad in hand. Clearly on a mission. When she
saw me, I thought her eyes flickered for the barest of moments,
before her gaze shifted to the side and pinned someone behind me.

I almost stumbled in relief.

"Tanya," Jane spoke in a cold, firm tone that surprised me. "Can you
come with me, please?"

My heart started beating out of control at Jane's voice, at the look on

her face.

It meant trouble. It meant business.

I scurried the rest of the way to my cubicle, leaving coffee drops in

my wake.

Exhaling raggedly, I turned at my cubicle's half wall, and watched as

Tanya and Jane headed for Jane's office. Tanya's steps were quick,
almost as if she was going to break out into a run, while Jane's
seemed implacable and unhurried behind her.

A sound caught my attention, and I saw Colin and Stuart emerging

from Colin's corner office. They began moving quickly to the center
of the floor, drawing each departmental VP from his office as they
passed.

"Good morning, everyone," Colin said in a booming voice. "Can we

have your attention, please."

It caused a ripple effect of diminishing noise as people up front

began standing, and seeing them, the next people in a row stood,
and so on.

When Alice shot me a glance with a look of worry on her face, I set
my coffee cup down and leaned against the low wall's shelf of my
cubicle. My stomach was hovering somewhere in between my throat
and my lungs.
Everyone knew something was up immediately.

For one thing, neither Colin nor Stuart usually showed up this early.
For another, both men wore forbidding looks on their faces.
Whatever they wanted to talk to us about was serious business .

A few paces behind Colin and Stuart stood the line of their VPs, who
seemed to arrange themselves into an impenetrable line of defense.
Looking sexy as fuck in Hugo Boss black with a bronze tie that
nearly matched his hair color, Edward's loosely clasped hands
stance was both coolly proud and non-committal.

"We've been made aware of an incident," Colin began loudly without

preamble. Holding a pair of eyeglasses in his upraised hand, he
appeared as a studious force dressed in navy with a stiff white collar.
"Someone has made inappropriate, bullying comments to one of you
in front of others, and is being dealt with accordingly."

I gasped as I felt the force of the words in my gut.

Was this about me?

Had someone gone to Colin and Stuart about Tanya?

Was it Ben?

I wanted to turn around to look at him, to see what his expression

said, but I was frozen.

"In case it's been a while since you've read the Employee Handbook,
let me reiterate that we have a no tolerance policy against all types
of harassment," Stuart added helpfully. Or, it would have been
helpful if he wasn't frowning. "That includes making insinuations
about unannounced position advancements in front of others."

Edward's legs spread. Unclasping his hands, he folded his arms

across his chest. I watched the non-committal, coolly proud
expression he wore morph into gorgeous and formidable .
My heart raced faster and faster.

"I have to caution you," Colin continued. "If you are caught trying to
spread a rumor, or if someone reports that you are spreading
rumors, there will be immediate disciplinary action."

"It's also entirely possible you will be fired on the spot," Stuart added
with a low rumble, steely glint in his eyes.

They were taking no prisoners.

Did that mean Tanya was being let go?

"It's probably not a bad idea to familiarize yourself again with the
Employee Handbook policies. Specifically, Workplace Policies and
Code of Conduct," Colin said, again the good cop to Stuart's bad
cop. "Learn what types of behavior are prohibited. We much prefer a
pleasant working environment where everyone can thrive. Let's all
do our part to ensure it stays that way."

"Does anyone have any questions?" Stuart asked.

A vacuum of dead silence met his words.

I was sure we were all shell-shocked. I knew I was.

"That's it then," Stuart said as he tugged absentmindedly at his

necktie. It gave me the impression that no matter how much he
might bark, he didn't like having to do so.

Colin raised his hand over his head. "Thank you, everyone. I
apologize about starting the day like this, but we wanted to make
sure you're all aware of this policy. It's important that we respect
each other, seeing how much time we spend together. We want you
to enjoy working here. We appreciate your time, and the dedication
to your work. Thank you."

Mine weren't the only pair of eyes that followed the two men as they
headed for Jane's closed office door. All the blinds were drawn on
her windows and door, but they might as well have been painted for
target practice. It made me more than a little uneasy knowing what
was going on now.

Tanya was going to have to leave knowing that everyone knew what
had just transpired with her. It was unlike them, but Colin and Stuart
were making a huge, messy point. One that none of us was sure to
forget any time soon.

On knees that shook, I sank down into my seat hard.

How was I supposed to concentrate now? I could barely form one

sentence after another.

Beside me, I heard Alice's keyboard begin clacking… then stop…

then start again and stop.

I wasn't the only one.

After staring unseeingly at my monitor for too long, I texted Edward's

phone.

I'm not sure I can concentrate.

I love you, he wrote back, and I could tell by his next words that he
was in Boss Mode. You can do this. Put your nose down and keep
wowing everyone with your work. That's how we kick ass. That's all
you need to focus on right now. Let everything else go. She is not
your problem, Bella.

And a moment later: But yes, she's going, and good goddamn
riddance.

I bit my lip and smiled down at my phone. Edward didn't curse often,
so when he did, it was damn hot.

And then, I did as he suggested.

Whether she was staying and causing us problems, or being
marched out the door, I had bigger fish than Tanya to fry.

A/N: Only one more chapter to go. I already miss them like crazy,
and I'm not even done writing yet.
Chapter 28
Putting a bow on it

Thanks to:

Di, my editor,

and Paige, Aileen, and Deb, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Chapter 28

"There you are, one of my favorite people in the world," I said, as

Dad's face came into focus on my computer screen. Wearing a
Mariners' ball cap and an unbuttoned plaid shirt over a white thermal
top, he looked comfortable. And, a bit confused. Under his
mustache, his mouth twisted.

" One of your favorite people?" The image of his face bounced when
his hand rose to his chest. "I'm no longer the most favorite?"

As an announcement tactic that I'd met someone, it probably wasn't

the most ingenious, but I didn't exactly do girl talk with Dad. Actually,
I'd never had the opportunity, since none of my relationships had
been serious. I'd told him about Paul, simply because we'd known
each other for a few years, but had only ever referred to him as a
friend .

But now, there was Edward. My everything. And Dad had to know.
Unable to stop it, a smile crawled across my face.

"I've met someone."

My words were simple, but imbued with enough emotion to start a

fire. Something Dad caught; his eyebrows rose, which was
tantamount to a gaping mouth for him.

"Oh?"

"His name is Edward… Edward Cullen," I said, wondering if the last

name would mean anything to him.

It didn't seem to.

"He grew up in Forks, too," I admitted, because I couldn't exactly

hide who Edward was.

Dad raised a hand to scratch under his hat, then removed it. "Oh.
Cullen." He scrubbed a hand through his crushed hair. "As in… the
prosecutor's son? Wallace Cullen's kid?"

I made a face. Couldn't help it.

"You, er, know him?"

"I met him once, yes. I thought I was grumpy and gruff. The man
spent the night scowling and arguing with everyone."

That was saying something, because Dad wasn't one for gossip.

"Um, yes, Edward has said his father is… difficult," I said with a
heavy sigh. "Anyway, it turns out Edward moved to Chicago, too."

"Yeah," Dad said, drawing the word out as he visibly connected the
dots, realizing that Edward was the asshole I had complained about.
"The boss from high school?"

"No longer my boss."

"No longer an asshole bastard?"

Had I really called Edward that?

"No longer an asshole bastard. Edward's… wonderful, actually. And

he's nothing like his father. He treats me as if I'm a princess. Maybe
to overcompensate for how he used to treat me. We've fallen in
love," I added in a rush. "Dad, I love him."

His face was non-committal. Or, maybe he was in shock.

"You fell in love with your boss?"

"Well, he isn't my boss anymore."

He gave me a look of shock. "Did you get a new job, too?"

"No, I still work for the same company. I just report to a different
person now."

He grunted.

"So… let me get this straight. The boy you couldn't stand in high
school is now the man you're in a relationship with?"

My tightly clasped hands were sweaty because I was worried about

how my situation was coming across. Also, because it was important
that he realized how very important Edward was to me.

"I know it sounds crazy," I told him. "But people change. And, I did
tell you that he didn't appear to be the same asshole I remembered
from high school. He… took me by surprise."

Understatement.

But Dad didn't want to know the details.

"When did this happen? I mean, you haven't ever talked about him."
I exhaled and bowed my head. "That's because I didn't know how I
felt about him. At first, I was just blind with old hate and anger. And
then I was scared when my feelings began to change-it was all so
unexpected… and confusing. It was just something I needed to work
through on my own," I said, my voice both firm and gentle.

Please forgive me for not confiding in you, Dad.

"But really, we've been getting to know each other slowly over the
past year. The more I learned about him, the faster I seemed to fall.
He's… everything to me," I added softly.

His head cocked.

"No, uh, there's no dating policy where you work?"

Sharp as a tack. Nothing got by my dad.

"Dating among co-workers isn't forbidden, no. Thank God, or I'd

have had to find another job," I said with a short laugh, deciding not
to tell him about the trial period. Edward already had two strikes-as
my high school asshole, and his dad, the asshole. "Our bosses are
aware of our relationship. Edward and I have been over the pros and
cons already. We haven't gone into this blind or lightly."

Still looking skeptical, Dad muttered something under his breath.

"What?"

"So when am I going to meet this guy?" The words had barely left his
mouth before he straightened in alarm. "Is he coming home with you
next month?"

"That's another reason why I'm calling," I said hesitantly, knowing he

was going to be disappointed. I was also hovering in a place where I
needed to reveal a piece of Edward's past without actually revealing
it. "Edward is estranged from his family there. If you can even call
them that. They… really aren't. He hasn't been back to Forks since
he left over ten years ago, and he doesn't intend to come back.
Ever."

Dad's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.

"So you're not ever going to come back, is that it?"

My throat tightened at the look of anger on his face, in his words.

"No, of course, I will. Just… not this year," I answered solemnly.

I didn't want to leave Edward right now. Not even for only a week.
Just the thought of separation made me queasy.

"I was hoping you would drive into Seattle," I pleaded. "I want you to
meet Edward. I want you to know him, Dad. He's so… he's important
to me. He makes me happy. Yeah, he was dealt a crappy hand in
life, but he's overcome it all. He's so much more than just his past."

I had to stop to take a breath; I was gushing like a teenager.

"It's also important to me that you like him," I added resolutely.

Dad had somewhat of a pained smile on his face. As if he was both

happy and sad.

"I'm disappointed you won't be coming home, but I knew you'd meet
someone someday. Knew you'd fall in love, and that things would
change." He scrubbed his face. "I just didn't think it would happen so
soon."

"So soon?" I cried in disbelief. "I just turned thirty years old."

His image jumped on my screen as he waved a hand dismissively

through the air. "You're still my little girl."

I felt as if the air had been punched out of my stomach. Dad didn't
often get sentimental, but when he did, he always took me by
surprise.
"Yes," I whispered. "Of course, I am."

Dad hunched forward over his phone, and the square on my screen
was full of just his face. His very worried face.

"Ten years ago. That was around the time of the younger son's
suicide, " he said in a heavy tone. "Does Edward's estrangement
have anything to do with that?"

Yeah, nothing got past my dad.

I closed my eyes briefly. "Yes, but I really can't say any more than
that. It's… not my place."

"Okay," he drawled, and I wondered what he was thinking, what

pieces of the puzzle he might have been trying to make fit. Edward's
past and family were arguably dark, but I hoped he could see past it.
For me. For Edward.

"Can I say that I hope you know what you're doing, getting involved
with someone who has such a poor father figure, who is also
estranged from his family?"

In a split second, I went from soft and hesitant to firm and protective.

"Edward has an unofficial adopted family here in Chicago. Esme and

Carlisle. She's a psychiatrist and he's a pediatrician. I met them over
Thanksgiving, and they're wonderful. It's part of why he's so
wonderful now, I think."

As I was speaking, the timer on my oven went off, and I glanced at

the clock. Almost seven, and Edward still wasn't there.

"Hold on a sec, Dad. My lasagna is done."

I walked my laptop into the kitchen and set it on the counter while I
switched off the timer and pulled the lasagna out of the oven.
"I can drive down to Seattle the Saturday after Christmas," Dad said,
as I turned back to the screen. "Will that work?"

"Yes. Thank you," I said with a huge smile of relief. "I-oh! He's here,
hold on. Okay?"

I rushed to answer the knock on my door.

Edward had changed into jeans and a sweater and had a suit in
plastic hooked over his shoulder. He looked tired and wonderful,
pulling me into his chest immediately for a deep kiss.

"Sorry I'm so late," he murmured against my cheek.

"It's okay," I said, as he closed the door. "I've been talking to my dad.
About you and Christmas. In fact, he's on with me right now. Are
you… up for meeting him real quick?"

A smile quirked his mouth when he saw my hopeful expression.

"Of course, I'm up for meeting the Chief," he said with a note of
amusement in his voice, as he draped the suit over the back of my
couch.

I grasped his hand and pulled him around the kitchen island to the
front of my laptop.

"Dad, this is Edward," I said, and I knew he heard how I caressed

Edward's name. "Edward, this is my dad, Charlie."

I glanced between the two of them as they silently regarded each

other.

"Hello, Mr. Swan."

The corner of my dad's mouth kicked up. "You a Cubs fan?"

Edward grinned. "And a Mariners fan," he answered.

"Ever been fishing?"

Edward's hand in mine flinched slightly.

I doubted he'd even played catch with his dad.

"No," he said, a quiet but resolute admission.

"We'll have to rectify that someday, then," Dad said. "There are quite
a few nice lakes around Seattle. Arbor Lake is small, good for
beginners."

"I look forward to it, sir."

"Charlie's fine," Dad said.

Then, with a last goodbye to me, he signed off, telling me he'd see
us soon.

My smile was so wide my cheeks ached as I turned into Edward's

arms.

"Should I be worried?" Edward asked.

"Not at all. It's a good sign, taking you fishing. Dad tells his best
stories while on the water. I'm sure he'll have a blast recounting the
first time I ever caught something-it was disastrous, on several
levels. You'll learn more about me than you ever wanted to know, I'm
sure."

He leaned close enough to press his lips against my ear, and

goosebumps broke out all across my skin when he spoke.

"Impossible."

"Charmer."
It was a Friday afternoon at the end of February, when I looked away
from my computer monitor to find Colin Smith settling himself into the
office chair beside mine.

Leaning his elbows on his knees, he clasped his hands and gave me
a smile.

"Congratulations. You've made it through the trial period," he said

warmly. "And your work product is as stellar as ever. Stuart and I are
proud to have you working for us."

Fuck, don't get all teary-eyed. And don't look smug.

"Thank you," I said with a hard swallow. "I'm grateful to you for the
opportunity, both as an employee, and as a relationship risk with
Edward."

"Yes, you and Edward proved us wrong for our doubts, but right for
taking a chance on you. You've both conducted yourselves beyond
reproach. We appreciate that we don't have to let either of you go."

"So do I," I said emphatically, as he stood. "So… Stuart is also

pleased?" I couldn't help asking, because Stuart had been reserved
with me any time we'd come face-to-face.

"I am," I heard.

Gasping, I swiveled in my chair to find him standing behind me.

Somehow, he managed to look both sour and amused.

"I hope you're not the type to say I told you so, " he drawled. "Can't
stand that type."

"Of course not," I replied smoothly, then added lightly, " But …"

He smiled. "Okay, I deserve that."

I was light as a helium balloon. I was going to float right off my chair
any second now.
"Well, we'll let you get back to it, then," Colin said.

With a slow, deep exhale, I turned in my chair and watched them

walk toward Edward's office. Apparently, they were going to give him
the same news.

Alice popped up above the half wall that separated our cubicles. Her
eyes were comically wide.

"Edward and I made it through the trial period," I whisper-shouted. "I

get to keep my job."

She smacked her hand against the top of the ledge.

"Thank God. I don't know what I'd do without you. Or, what I'd have
done if they'd let you go. It wouldn't have been pretty," she growled
quietly. "Want to celebrate by having dinner one night this week?"

"Absolutely."

It had been a long six weeks, when I'd been conscious of my every
glance toward Edward. Of what I said to him. Of my work
performance. Of any possible whispers or stares. Of how quickly
something could go wrong, and how I'd have to pay the price.

To my surprise, Alice had been an ally. We'd spent many lunches

talking about my worries and hopes over the trial period. She'd been
horrified and angry that I was the one who'd have to fall on the sword
if anything went wrong. To that end, she'd kept an eye out for me.

Until the company Christmas party, no one had suspected my

relationship with Edward. Even then, we'd behaved more like friends
than a couple-no hand-holding, touching, or kissing-just sitting
together, simply talking to each other. If anything, we'd probably
stared too long at each other; but he had been so adorable in his
ugly holiday sweater.
And maybe there were still lasting effects from the way Tanya had
been let go, because afterward, no one had treated me with
disrespect. If anyone was talking about me, they were being damn
discreet. Ben had mentioned it, but only because he confessed he'd
been the one behind Tanya being let go.

" I'm glad I had the foresight to go to Jane instead of Edward," he

said sheepishly with a wince. "I didn't even suspect you were with
him. Can I say… I'm a little disappointed? I'd… hoped we could get
together eventually."

" I'm sorry, Ben," I said softly.

He shrugged. "Nice guys finish last, right? I'm used to it."

" You're not last. You're rare. You're the type who does the right
thing, even when it's difficult. Someone's going to notice that. And
they're going to be very lucky when they do."

Although I was still friendly with Ben, he didn't invite me to lunch

anymore. Wanting to respect his boundaries, I hadn't pressed him
about it.

Riley was the only other person who'd brought up my relationship

status, but that was because he was both reckless and utterly
fearless.

" You and Edward, hmm?" he asked and sniffed. "I should have
guessed, based on how protective he was of you."

" Riley, you agreed you were out of line that day."

" I'm just saying," he said. "Am I not allowed to talk about it?"

" I'm not interested in talking about it. Can we just focus on the
mock-up please?"

He pursed his lips and gave me an oddly calculating look.

" You're lucky, you know. He's sexy. Intelligent. Commanding."

" Riley."

He held his hands palms-up at me. "Okay, okay. So. Are you sure
they want this in neon blue?"

Because I was hyperaware of anything having to do with Edward, I

noticed the moment Colin and Stuart left his office.

Still high with elation and relief, I fidgeted in my chair, wanting to go

to him in the worst way. And I was about to give in to the impulse
when Edward stood from his chair and came out of his office. Unable
to look away from his piercing eyes, I stared as he walked toward
me.

Alice got to him first.

"Congratulations," she said quietly.

"Thanks," he replied, his gaze lingering on me as I stood to join

them. "Although I'm more grateful on Bella's behalf."

Soft and loving, his attention swept over me like a caress, and I
longed to be in his arms. Yeah, we were at work, but damn it. The
adrenalin in my system was making me feel like I'd just flown over a
pole vault.

"Ostensibly, I'm here for an update on Bailey's," he told Alice.

"Oh, of course," she said. "The GoByBike campaign is with the

Graphics Department right now. I should have the final version of the
video ready for review by Monday afternoon. Tuesday at the latest."

His eyes didn't leave my face the entire time Alice spoke. Until she
cleared her throat.

"You two might want to turn it down a notch. We still have a few
hours to go until quitting time."
I flushed and dropped my gaze to Edward's shoes.

"Tuesday at the latest," Edward repeated with a small cough. "That'll

be pushing it, but we'll make it work. Robert Bailey has been tough
to work with, I know."

A few people were looking our way. Ben noticed me and gave a little
smile, and I slid a step backward, toward my chair.

"Well, I'll… see you later," I murmured with one last glance at
Edward.

He flashed me his stunner's smile, and my heart jumped. I'd never

get used to that one.

"I swear, you two could start a fire with your eyes," Alice muttered
accusingly.

Sinking back into my chair, I turned away reluctantly to face my

computer monitor. Spring was coming, and Mootsie's Tootsie's
wanted something timely to promote their shoes-something that
would work on a large-scale sign in the store, on social media, and
on TV and radio commercials.

It was a tall order. Consuming .

And just what I needed as a distraction.

Although my lease was up at the end of April, I moved in with

Edward in mid-March. By then, we were practically living together
anyway. I already had clothes hanging in his closet, shoes lining the
floor, and my favorite hair dryer was in his bathroom. My own
apartment was dark and quiet, and I no longer felt as if I belonged
there, even when we were there. Having my mail directed to his
address was easier than I'd anticipated and made me realize I'd let
go of a number of old worries. Body and soul, I was in this
relationship with him.
Arranging the last of my framed photos on the bookshelf, I took a
step back to admire them all. There were photos of Edward,
Anthony, Carlisle, Esme, Paul, and Embry. And now, there was also
me, Mom, and Dad.

Edward's arms snaked around my waist, pulling me back against his

chest.

"It looks good," he murmured against my temple.

I slid my arms over the top of his. "It does. And no matter what you
think, my afghan looks perfectly comfy-cozy on the back of your
couch."

He chuckled and tightened his hold. "I love seeing signs of you all
over our place."

Sighing contentedly, I eyed my sage-patterned rug under the dining

room table, the fluffy cream ottoman beside the couch, and the
various two-foot-tall rustic, wooden candlesticks I'd placed around
the room. A trio of green-shaded pillows rested on the couch, and
my favorite abstract art paintings of cream and rust hung on either
side of the TV.

"I love it, too," I confessed. "It's more shabby chic than just a brown
monochrome bachelor's pad now. For the windows, maybe we could
get some of those flowing beige curtains like they had at Gia's."

He pressed his mouth against my shoulder. "We can't cover up this

view. Can't we let them be their own art?"

"I wouldn't cover them-they'd be window dressing," I said, waving my

arm in a dramatic flourish. "Flowing romantically to the floor."

"Please." He laughed. "No romantic flowing curtains."

"Fine, but I want curtains for the bedroom. Either that, or I'm sleeping
with a mask over my eyes. I like it pitch black ."
"We can get curtains for the bedroom," he agreed, rocking my body
slowly to and fro. "Anything else?"

"Plastic wine glasses," I said with a giggle. "Because no matter how

hard I try not to, I'll break all your others."

He shuddered exaggeratedly. "No. No plastic wine glasses," he

replied, tickling my sides and making me squeal. "We'll replace our
glasses as needed."

I was breathless from laughter. "What's yours is mine?" I gasped out.

"Absolutely. Always."

I turned in his arms and pulled his face to mine. "I love you."

Our kiss was deep, slow, gentle, and left me breathless for another
reason.

"I've been thinking," he said, drawing me over to one of the windows

that overlooked the lake. It was midday, and the sky was light blue
with scattered wisps of clouds. Several boats dotted the darker blue
of the water; they were mesmerizing to watch as they inched along.

"About what?" I asked, as his arms encircled me again.

"My inheritance. Being adopted by Carlisle and Esme."

My heart stopped, then started thudding.

Edward pressed his lips against my temple. "I want to give you a real
sense of family, too. Someday, I want you to feel as if Carlisle and
Esme are your in-laws."

Now it was racing . We'd just moved in together, and it seemed as if

he was already thinking about marriage .

"And you? You want to feel as if they are your parents?" I asked
faintly.
Because he couldn't do this just for me.

"Yes. I heard what you said that night," he answered, leaning down
to rest his chin on my shoulder. "That I'm fucking lovable, right?"

He believed me.

"Absolutely, always," I said fiercely.

"I feel it now. With you. And I want to be free from my past. From the
money," he said with a hard swallow. "Then… I could sever all rights
with my parents."

I moved my grip from his wrist to his hands. His voice was calm and
sure, but his body was stiff, and I couldn't tell if it was from distress
or resolution.

"What do you think about me creating a foundation in Anthony's

name with my inheritance? I could fund local children's abuse
shelters throughout Washington."

His head rose as I spun in his arms.

"That's… that's so wonderful and perfect," I said, cupping his face in

my hands. Why were his eyes worried? "Instead of the money just
sitting there, it could help so many children. Someone like you or
Anthony. And their families. I love that idea, Edward."

His shoulders relaxed. "I wasn't sure if I was being batshit crazy or
not," he murmured as his hands rose to capture mine.

"It's never crazy to want to help someone else," I told him.

"There's a shelter-The Healthy Families of Clallam County-that's so

small, they operate out of a Domino's Pizza," he said, his voice
picking up with emotion. "I mean, just think of what one hundred
thousand dollars could do for them."
I nodded happily, blinking away the tears that filled my eyes, loving
how the tentativeness in his expression was changing to excitement.

"The last time I checked my account, my inheritance was close to

five million dollars, and it has to be significantly more now. That
means there'd be a big story about all this money being given to
local charities. Definitely something my father would hear about," he
added with a catch in his voice.

I gazed at him with all the love and tenderness in my heart.

"It's perfectly poetic," I told him. "Not only are you helping so many
others, but it's also the perfect fuck you . And you won't have to
worry about the money just sitting there anymore. You won't have to
wonder what your father is thinking anymore either."

He nodded and shrugged slightly.

I pulled his body to me in a fierce hug.

"He's not worth an ounce of your pain," I said, gentle as a kiss.

We stood there in front of the windows, just holding each other, until
we finally moved over to the couch. Pulling his laptop over from the
coffee table, we checked his account to see how much money he
had. And then, we made a list of all the charities he was going to
help.

Tomorrow, Edward would finally claim his inheritance.

It was a monumental step.

The next one happened three months later, when Edward walked out
of the Cook County Courthouse as Edward Evanson . Esme walked
by his side, unable to let go of his hand, unable to stop her tears.
"You've always been ours, but now you are under the law, too," she
said. "It's such a dream come true."

"Thank you," Edward said, releasing my hand as he drew both Esme

and Carlisle in for a hug. "Thank you for wanting to be my parents."

It set Esme off into a fresh round of tears, and I smiled from where I
stood watching them.

Carlisle was the first to break away from their tight circle, and he
pulled Esme back in a gentle, loving manner.

"Give him some space, Es. You're getting his shirt wet."

She stepped away from Edward, revealing a small wet splotch on

the front of his white button down.

"Sorry, sorry," she said with a laugh, patting his chest.

Edward reached for my hand again, drawing me against his side.

Although he was all smiles and looked gloriously happy, his bottom
lip was stiff. Pushing myself closer to him, l leaned heavily into him,
and his head bent to my shoulder. Threading my fingers into the hair
at his nape, I tried to soothe the little tremors that were shaking his
body.

"I'm so happy for you," I whispered into his ear, and he made a soft
sound, wrapping his arms tightly around me.

Esme and Carlisle descended the steps, sensing that we needed a

moment.

"It's done," Edward murmured, then lifted his head to meet my gaze.
With tears swimming in his eyes, he looked both lost and found,
terrified and certain.

I raised a hand to cup his cheek.

"You're still you, baby," I told him. "Fucking lovable, every inch of you
from the inside out. You haven't lost anything. And now you have a
mother and a father who love you very much."

Looking at me as if I was his lifeline, he leaned into my touch. I could

see it still hurt, though-this new, almost tangible ending with his birth
parents. He hadn't heard from them when all the news stories about
the donated money broke out, and they hadn't contested the
adoption today.

They might as well have been dead.

How could you get past a father who never loved you? Or, a mother
who drank to forget you existed at all?

Time might deaden the ache, but it could never heal those kinds of
wounds.

"What do you think Anthony would say?" I wondered.

Edward exhaled raggedly, then turned to press a kiss into the palm
of my hand.

"He'd probably say… it's the beginning. Don't look back," he said,
and there was both pain and hope in his voice. "Anthony was always
looking for the end of the tunnel."

"Smart boy."

He took my hands in his, sweeping his thumbs across my knuckles

in a repeated caress.

"He'd be happy for me. I wish… I wish he were here."

"He is."

Edward squinted up into the sun, releasing another heavy sigh.

"This is the last time I cry about them."

"It doesn't have to be."

His mouth twisted. "It wouldn't hurt me to adopt some of Anthony's

optimism."

"Hey, you're already there," I said, gently shaking his hands. "You
play to win, always. If that's not optimism, I don't know what is."

He pulled me against his chest, and his eyes were bright as he

gazed down at me.

"That's right. I got you, didn't I?"

My heart fluttered at the expression on his face-fierce and loving.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I'm the winner in this scenario."

The tip of his nose brushed mine. "You're going to fight me on this?"

"You're magical," I breathed. "You turned me from a fire-breathing

dragon into a girl. I have everything I never even knew I wanted with
you. Fucking sexiest lover ever, a best friend I trust implicitly, who
knows how to calm my worries and make me laugh, then serves me
a perfectly cooked chicken mole for dinner."

He lowered his head to brush his lips across my ear.

"You know, chicken… it has more tryptophan than turkey, which

boosts sexual drive." He bit my earlobe lightly. "And then there's the
chocolate in the mole sauce, which heightens sexual desire."

"Like either of us needs that," I breathed with a shiver.

He stepped back without releasing me, then flashed me his wolfish

grin.

"Do you think Esme and Carlisle would mind if we skipped out on
dinner?"
Taking a page from his book, I winked at him. "Whatever you need,
baby."

He barked out a laugh, then gave me a look of amused regret. "Don't

think I'm not tempted, but Carlisle would be disappointed if we
skipped out on his three-star restaurant experience."

I grinned and crooked an eyebrow. "Not to mention the hard time

you'd get from Paul and Embry."

"I'd never hear the end of it."

"Let's go celebrate with your family," I said.

"You're my family."

I smiled softly at that, then turned slightly, tugging at him. But he

didn't move, other than to pull me close again, raising and holding
my hands against his chest. His eyes were intense as he gazed
down at me, his grip tightening meaningfully.

"I mean it, Bella. Life is so much better with you in it."

Now my eyes were swimming with tears.

Leaning his forehead against mine, he pressed a gentle kiss against

my quivering lips.

"My beautiful girl," he whispered, his warm breath tickling my chin.

"I'm going to ask you to marry me one day."

Hearing it didn't scare me. In fact, it filled me with warmth and

longing.

"And I'm going to say yes," I whispered back.

He was giving me his stunner's smile, the one that always stole my
breath and sent my heart flying.
"No more worries about moving too fast?" he asked.

I shook my head, holding his gaze, drowning in it.

"You're my one," I told him simply, certain about it with every fiber of
my being… and totally stealing his line.

It made his eyes go impossibly soft.

Made his head dip to mine, and never mind that we were surrounded
by people.

His kiss, when it came, was light as a feather. Barely there, and yet it
sent a bolt of lightning through my blood. My heart was too big for
my chest. I felt alive and cherished and hopeful, and so in love that it
hurt. All because of him, my once childhood bully who'd grown into
the most gentle of lovers.

We pulled away slowly, reluctantly, and the world came back to life
again. The sky was a cobalt blue, the sun warm on my shoulders
and bright in my eyes. Cars whooshed past on the street below, and
people were coming and going all around us-the bump in their path.

A few steps down, Edward's parents were waiting.

Surprising me, he released me and took a step back. Then, with a

curious head cock, he held out a hand to me.

Come with me? He seemed to be asking.

As if I'd do anything else.

I put my hand into his, and he squeezed it gently.

I squeezed back.

I'm coming with you.

And then we took another first step together.

.

la fin

A/N: OMG, am I going to miss this story and these characters. I'm a
little heartbroken right now, to be honest. Di is pushing for a little
glimpse into their future, so I might give it a shot, but no promises.

I do have another story in the works… this time, about masked

lovers. I'm still working out the details, but if this sounds like
something you'd like to read, make sure you have me on alert.

I also have a Group on Facebook called Powered by 23 Kicks

Fanfiction, where you'll be the first to see what's coming up next.
Come join me.

Until next time…

Chapter 29
Last Call

Thank you for it all to:

Di, my editor,

and Paige, Aileen, and Deb, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game

Future-Take

I tried not to gag as Grandpa Charlie wound a worm around the

fishhook. When he stuck the slimy body on the pointy end, I threw
myself against the side of the boat and retched.

"It's just a little blood," he said as the strawberry Pop Tart I ate for
breakfast came back up. It looked gross, but huh, didn't taste that
bad.

The fish must have thought so, too, because they were swimming up
to eat the barf floating on top of the water. I flinched away from the
boat's edge with a groan, almost losing my fishing hat.

"You know, your mom wasn't any better. I guess you inherited her
aversion to blood and worms," Grandpa Charlie said with a grin.
Making fun of me, but I guessed I didn't mind if he did. It didn't feel
the same as when Craig Sorg did it, anyway.

I hunched a shoulder, wiping my mouth. "It smells weird."

"That's just the dirt you smell. It's natural, nothing wrong with it."

I rolled my eyes. "Tell that to my stomach."

He chuckled, and then it was quiet as the boat gently rocked in the
water. It had been cold earlier, but now it was sunny, and I was
roasting in the long-sleeved shirt Mom had insisted I wear. I shoved
the sleeves up to my elbows, wishing I could take off the life jacket
Grandpa Charlie was making me wear.

"Ready?"

He passed me my pole, and I gripped it awkwardly as the fishing line

with its skewered worm dangled in front of my face.

"Watch me now."

He leaned his pole back, and with a hard flick of his wrist, sent his
line with the hooked worm into the water with a small plop.

"Okay, now you try it."

Clumsy and stiff, I swung my pole back and to the side like he did,
then gave it a flick. The line sailed past the side of my face and
dropped into the water just beyond the boat.

Slumping, I glared at the ripples on top of the water.

"Give 'er another go," he said.

I couldn't see his eyes because he was wearing a pair of

sunglasses, but I could tell by looking at his mouth that he was trying
not to laugh.

Sighing heavily, I cranked the dial on the fishing pole and drew the
line back then up and- ew, the worm -quickly jerked the pole back.
Because I was still grossed out, it gave me an extra push when I did
the flick move. The end didn't go as far as his, but at least it flew out
farther that time.
I flashed Grandpa Charlie a smile of victory.

"Not bad, but we've got to get past your fear of worms," he said as
he settled his elbows on his knees. "What do you suggest?"

I shrugged and squinted at the sunlight on the water. "Fake bait.

Those don't smell."

"Fake bait," he repeated. "Well, I have been known to catch a bass

or two with an artificial lure, but you're eight years old, Tony. Time to
learn how to bait your hook with a worm, don't you think?"

"I'm not scared of worms," I huffed. "I just think they're gross."

"Did you know if you cut off a worm's tail, it'll grow back?"

I frowned, thinking about it. Why would anyone want to cut off a
worm's tail? "How can you tell which end is which?"

"A worm moves with its head. There's also a thicker ring up near the
head."

Propping his fishing pole up between his knees, he bent to dig out
another worm from the box. When he twisted around with one in the
palm of his hand, I held my breath and leaned in to peer at the thing.
Sure enough, there was a thicker band near one of the ends.

"See how one end seems to be more active? That's the head."

I nodded.

Yep, but still gross.

He dumped the worm back into the box, and I let out my breath in
relief.

"Should we talk in whispers now?" I whispered. "So the fish don't

know we're here?"
He grinned. "Oh, they know we're here. That's what the worm is for.
Tasty, tasty bait."

There went my stomach again.

"First time I brought your mom out here, she was a mess," Grandpa
Charlie said a few minutes later, and he had the biggest grin on his
face. "Got sick all down her shirt the first time she touched a worm."

She what?

"But that's not the worst part."

"It's not?"

What could be worse than barf on your shirt?

Grandpa Charlie started to do this weird wheeze while trying to talk.

At first, his words were clear, but the longer he went on, the more I
could barely understand him.

"She somehow managed to get the hook into her hair," he said, his
hand motioning to the back of his neck. "And was s-s- so suh-prised
nshe st-stood and fell over bah-ackwards off the bo-oat!"

He raised his head, saw the look on my face, and started slapping
his knee.

"Mom fell into the water?"

"Backwards!" He gasped, and his sunglasses slid halfway down his

nose.

I broke out into laughter with him as I imagined it. Mom, always so
calm and cool and well dressed, with a hooked worm in her hair,
going over backwards into lake water. I couldn't believe it!

Our laughter gradually slowed, and then we were staring silently at

the water again. I tugged at my pole to make the line dance a little,
but nothing was biting. Part of me didn't want to catch anything,
because Grandpa Charlie said I'd have to learn how to descale and
debone my fish. I wasn't sure if he was kidding, though.

I hoped he was kidding.

"So how's school?"

My mood went sour. School sucked right now because Craig Sorg
and his best friend, Tommy Toulson, wouldn't leave me alone. They
called me "ant man" because I was so little. And somehow, Craig
knew I liked Bree Tanner. Anytime Bree and I were in the same
place, that was when he came over and pulled his crap about our
height differences.

"Fine." I shrugged.

I could feel him looking at me. He didn't like my answer any more
than Mom or Dad did.

"What, uh, what's your favorite subject?"

Lunch.

Recess.

"Math," I said with a sigh. "We're learning 'bout polygon perimeters."

"Sounds… horrible."

I grinned. "It's not so bad."

"Yeah, next to having to spell a word out loud, it's not so bad."

"Spelling is awful," I agreed, even though I was pretty good at that,

too.

"I could never get a word right, not when everyone in the class was
staring at me. They called me C.H.A.S. because of it."
I frowned. "They called you letters?"

He resettled the hat on his head and scratched at his nose.

"Yeah. They spelled out my nickname when they talked to me. It was
embarrassing. Made me feel stupid."

But Grandpa Charlie knew the statistics of almost every Mariners

game ever played. He did crossword puzzles. He sometimes carried
a gun because he was a cop.

"But you're not stupid," I protested.

"Thanks, kid. No, I'm not stupid. But it made me feel stupid. So one
day, I asked them to race me across the schoolyard. Told them if I
won, they'd have to call me 'Lightning' instead."

I blinked at the smile on his face.

"You won!"

"Wore my lucky blue suede shoes that day, and kicked their butts."

It gave me an idea. Maybe I could race Craig and Tommy. I might be

short, but I was fast.

"Did they call you 'Lightning' after that?"

"They did. Oh, they might have spelled lightning out a time or two,
but it was different. I could tell it was just in good fun after that."

But what if… what if…

"What if you hadn't won?"

He turned and lowered his head, peering at me above his

sunglasses.

"I'd have tried again and again until I did win."

I thought about it. Just the idea was scary. If I didn't make it, Craig
would be extra mean. It would give him something else to tease me
about-as if being short and liking Bree Tanner wasn't enough . But
what if I won? Then, everyone would see. Everyone would know I
was faster than him.

"You won't always be short, you know," Grandpa Charlie said.

"You've got your dad's long legs. You're going to shoot up one day."

I jerked upright. "When?"

"When your body decides it's time."

"But when'll that be?"

"It's different for everyone. I can't tell you when. I just know it'll
happen."

I was about to ask him when it happened to him when my pole

jumped. Just beyond the line in the water, a ring started to form.
Then, I felt another movement.

"Hey! I've got something!"

" Hah! Snap it up, snap the pole up," he said in an urgent tone, and I
pulled up and back on my pole. It was heavier than I thought it would
be.

"Don't fight him, give him slack now. Then… reel it back a little."

I did, but the line was tight and I almost lost the pole.

"You've got a big one! Let him run. Let him fight so we tire him out."

My pole started to bend as the fish pulled against the line. The water
kicked up and I caught a glimpse of gray. He was really strong, this
fish. Suddenly my line went slack and I fell back a little, which tugged
at the fish again. I felt like I was playing tug-of-war and was about to
lose.
"He's getting away," I yelped as the line suddenly spun out the other
way.

"Yeah, he's putting up quite a fight. Snap it!"

I snapped the pole up again, feeling the drag, then reeled the fish in
a bit more. It arched back, jerking at the line, and my feet scrabbled
on the bottom of the boat. Grandpa Charlie didn't say this was going
to be so hard.

"You've got him, Tony. You've got him."

It didn't feel like I had him, but I didn't let go of the pole. Eventually,
the tugging weakened, and I was able to reel the fish in closer.
Suddenly, it leaped out of the water with a splash, making me
scream like a girl. It was big!

Grandpa Charlie scooted to the side of the boat with a net.

"Reel him in slowly now."

Slowly was all I could do anyway. The fish was so heavy that I kept
expecting the line to snap and break.

"Slooooowly now."

Feet braced against the side of the boat, I… forced… the… reel.

Grandpa Charlie hah-hahed again and dipped the net into the water.
The weight I'd been pulling against abruptly lessened, making me fall
back and off my seat.

"Look at this one," he cried as he held it up.

The fish was long and scaly, with a hook poking through its gaping
mouth. Grandpa Charlie hauled it over the side as it flipped and
flopped furiously, flinging water everywhere.

My smile was so wide that my face hurt.

"I did it! I caught one!"

"It's a two footer! A big ole bass. We'll call him Oscar," he said and
nodded at me. "Not bad for your first time, not bad at all."

I winced as he yanked the hook out of the gaping mouth.

"We'll get a photo once he stops twitching."

And wasn't that fun? Holding the fish up by the mouth felt weird, and
kind of scary, especially since he had little teeth.

"Hold 'em up high and proud, kid. And smile."

I'd caught a fish!

Later, when we'd returned to Grandpa Charlie's cabin, Mom wrinkled

her nose when she caught a whiff of us.

"I guess you two were successful," she said.

I threw myself into her arms. The way her pregnant stomach stuck
out made hugging kind of awkward, but she somehow managed it,
squeezing me tight against her body.

"I caught a two foot bass," I bragged. "Bigger than anything Grandpa
Charlie caught, and he's grumpy about it. And Grandpa Charlie told
me all about the time you got a worm in your hair and barfed and fell
backwards into the water."

She cupped my face with her hands, kissed my nose, then gave me
a look of amusement.

"One of my finer moments."

"I wish I coulda seen it."

She nodded, smirking at me. "I'm sure you do."

I pulled on the end of her long hair, tugging her down to my mouth.

"Please don't let Grandpa Charlie make me debone a fish," I

whispered.

Mom could do this thing with her face-sometimes when she smiled,
she did it with her whole face. Like she was doing now. She was
even prettier when she did it.

"Go shower. I'll take care of him."

I hopped a few times. "Thanks!"

When I got to the bathroom, I frowned at myself in the mirror. I

couldn't see anything past my neck. Nope, I didn't look any different.
Still had Dad's orange hair, still had Mom's eyes, still too short.

When would my body know it was time to grow up? If not now,
when? Because I was tired of being teased about it.

After I showered and changed into jeans and a sweater, I headed for
the kitchen.

"-did Anthony some good. He lit right up when that fish bit his line."

"He's been so withdrawn lately."

Mom's worried voice made me skid to a stop.

She was always worrying about me.

"Were you able to find out what's been bothering him?"

"I think… he's being teased at school," Grandpa Charlie said.

Mom gasped, and I heard rustling. Pressing myself against the wall, I
peeked around the edge. Mom's face was pressed against Dad's
chest, and Dad had a weird look on his face. Almost like something
was hurting him.
This was why I didn't want to tell them.

I felt sick.

Embarrassed.

"Now wait a minute, you two," Grandpa Charlie said. "We don't know
what's going on yet because he hasn't told us. Don't jump to the
worst conclusion."

Mom looked up at Dad, and I could see she was on the verge of
tears. "No, it makes sense," she whispered, and I drew back to rest
my forehead against the wall. "Someone is hurting my little boy. Tell
me what to do."

"We love him. We be here for him. We listen to him," Dad said in his
soothing voice, and I winced.

"That's not good enough!" She hissed. "Especially since he's not
talking."

"We can't make him talk," Dad replied. "You never did, remember?
You hid your pain."

" Fuck."

My mouth gaped. Mom said a bad word.

And then I wondered about the pain Dad was talking about.

Had Mom… had she been teased when she was a kid, too?

"-thing we can do is to be here for him," Dad was saying. "He already
knows he can tell us anything. He knows we love him."

"That doesn't matter when you're being picked on at school!"

I was hot all over again. This was so embarrassing.

"It does matter. Let's just see if he'll talk to us about it."

When I heard that, I spun around and ran back to the room that was
mine when we stayed here.

"Anthony?"

I didn't stop for Mom's voice. When I got to my room, I slammed the
door closed and then threw myself onto the bed.

How had Grandpa Charlie guessed my secret?

And then he had to go and tell Mom and Dad.

It was so unfair.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Anthony? It's Dad. Can I come in?"

"I don't wanna talk about it!"

The door opened, and I rolled over and planted my face into a pillow.

"I'm not going to make you talk about it," Dad said in his smooth and
calm voice, the one he used to make me do something when I really
didn't want to. "I do have something I want to tell you, though."

It was a little hard to breathe with my face smooshed into the pillow,
so I just turned to face the window.

I felt the bed dip behind my back as he sat.

"When I was your age, I used to tease other kids. I used to say mean
things to make them cry."

It was the last thing I'd expected him to say.

It had me rolling over to face him in surprise.

" Why?"

He looked… ashamed.

"I was sad. Angry. And I wanted to make them feel that way, too."

I couldn't imagine him being that way. Dad never got angry, and I'd
rarely seen him sad. He was always in a good mood.

"But why were you sad and angry?"

"For a lot of reasons." He sighed, and I knew he wasn't going to

explain them. "What I really needed was a friend, though."

I snorted. "Craig already has a friend. Neither of them wanna be

mine."

Crap, I hadn't meant to say that .

His face tightened, and I saw a flash of something before it was

gone.

"Have you ever asked them to stop?"

"What?"

"Have you ever asked them to stop calling you names? To stop
pushing you around?"

"Like that'll help," I snapped.

"Tony, ask Craig to stop," he said firmly. "Let him know you're aware
that what he's doing is wrong. Stand up to him. Sometimes that's all
it takes."

I shook my head and glared up at the ceiling.

"I'll sound stupid. And weak."

"It's not stupid or weak to say stop calling me names. And maybe
after you say that, you could ask if he wanted to play a game. Like
tag, or hide-and-seek, or whatever you kids do at recess. You know,
kill him with kindness, and get him focused on something else."

I scowled at him. He didn't understand .

"He doesn't wanna play with me. He calls me 'ant man'," I confessed
in a whisper. "Says I'm so little, I should be in kindergarten."

Dad nods.

"You are small for your age, but you won't always be small. What
Craig is teasing you about isn't a lasting curse. And Ant Man is a
superhero… okay, I can see you don't like that, either," he said while
rubbing at his eyebrow. "I'm still suggesting that you try to turn things
around, though. That you ask Craig to play. Try to make him a friend.
What's wrong with trying?"

I huffed. "I don't know."

"Well, you definitely won't unless you try."

He sounded so certain it would work, but he didn't know Craig, didn't

know how he seemed to hate me. Craig was having fun being mean
to me.

"If someone had told me to stop what I was doing, and then asked
me to play, it definitely would've taken me by surprise."

"But would you have?"

Dad looked sad again. "No one ever asked me to, so I don't know. I
was pretty angry. Is Craig angry when he teases you?"

I shook my head. He was always just laughing.

"He likes teasing me," I said. "I don't think he'll just stop."
"He doesn't like teasing you. Trust me. He'd rather have you as a
friend."

I stared at him.

"How do you know?"

Dad raised an eyebrow at me. "Because I've been in his shoes. I

know."

I swallowed hard. "If I ask him to stop and he doesn't, then what?"

"Then you go to your teacher."

"That'll make me look like a tattle-tail baby!"

"So… try to handle it with him yourself first. Are you afraid of him?"

"No. Yes. I don't know."

"Does he hit you?" Dad asked, weirdly quiet.

"No. He just calls me names and tries to embarrass me."

"So it's all verbal. You can handle this, Tony. You can."

"I don't know," I said, suddenly angry.

"You've got friends in your class, right?"

I gave him a look. " Yes."

"So make sure your friends are with you. They'll help make you
brave. Ever hear of moral support?"

"No."

"Let's play out a scenario," Dad suggested and stood. "Stand up with
me. I'll be Craig and you be you."
I rolled my eyes as I got to my feet. "This is stupid."

"Tell me to stop. Okay?"

"Fine."

" Hey, ant man," Dad said in a rough voice. " Bet you're not tall
enough to reach your kitchen counter, are you?"

I took a step back.

How did he know what to say? Because it sounded exactly like

something Craig would say.

Dad kept going. " You're not, are you?"

"I… uh-"

" Cat got your tongue?"

I flushed.

"Stop it."

" Stop WHAT, ant man?"

"Stop being mean. Stop calling me ant man."

" But it's what you are."

Now I was getting mad.

"It's not what I am. My name's Tony. Call me that."

" An-toe-nee the ant man."

I glared at Dad.

"Stop it! I won't always be this short."

" Oh, yes you will."

"No, I won't . And besides, I bet I can beat you in a race to the slide
and back!"

Dad made a face and raised an eyebrow. " Hah-hah. You really think
you can beat me?"

" Yes. And if I win, you have to stop calling me ant man."

" You won't win, so… deal."

I gaped at him.

Dad spread and raised his arms. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?
Now you just have to beat him."

"Yeah, I guess." I shoved my hands into the back of my jeans

pockets. "But what if I don't?"

He ruffled my hair. "You get major props for calling him out.
Everyone will see it and know you're brave. You've got spunk. Let it
out. Try to have some fun. And kick his butt."

I wanted to kick his butt.

"I'm fast," I said. "I've beaten him before in gym class."

"There you go."

We traded smiles, and then he dragged me into a quick hug.

"Want to go and tell Mom? It would make her feel better."

Embarrassing.

"I guess."

"Come on."
So we went to find Mom. She was hunched over, hugging her
stomach, and looked this-close to crying. When she saw me, her
mouth curled up into a little smile, but she still looked sad.

"Tony's got a plan, Momma," Dad said gently.

She cried when I told her.

"Mom," I wailed.

"Sorry. I'm just proud of you. I know you're going to beat him."

I let her hug me and give me kisses before I squirmed away. Dad
came to take my place, pulling her into his arms with a huge smile on
his face.

"You really did it," I heard her whispering to him.

He didn't answer. He just kissed her for a long time on the mouth.

They were always giving each other goo-goo eyes and kissing.

Ugh, so embarrassing.

Grandpa was still in the kitchen cleaning fish.

Maybe helping him wouldn't be so bad after all.

Fin.

For real this time.

A/N: So there you go, a ten-year, bittersweet peek into their lives.
Tony's going to kick Craig's ass and become a big man on campus
for a few days, Bella's going to have a little girl (and get her tubes
tied), and Esme is going to retire early to take care of the kids when
Bella goes back to work for Smith and Devany. Bella's a Marketing
Analyst now and Edward is Chief Marketing Officer. And… they're
still so in love. They always will be, even through life's hiccups.

In a few weeks, I will be pulling this story to publish it on Kindle Vella.

Please don't think I made this decision lightly, because I went three
rounds about it-it breaks my heart that I have to pull it. The PDF will
be available for anyone who wants in my Facebook Group, Powered
by 23 Kicks Fanfiction .

And last, I do have another fic in the works, tentatively titled

MASKED. It's about unrequited love between our two favorite
characters, and the sexual fantasies they unknowingly fulfill for the
other.

Until next time…