820Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas! I may or may not have recently gone to my office Christmas party, which may or may not have prompted this story. :) I wish I worked with Edward.
This is unbeta'd, as I just threw it together today. I'm not sure how long it is going to be yet. This first chapter started out completely different than what you see here, so who knows; it might end up longer than I originally anticipated.
If anyone knows how to put together banners, and wants to do one for this story, hit me up! I am woefully inept at such things. You can message me here or on Facebook. I am under Elliemouses
S. Meyer owns all things, Twilight.
Enjoy!
Chapter 1
BPOV
Making my way through the doors of the office Christmas party, I smooth the bottom of my new red dress before crossing the threshold and looking around the large banquet hall. Spying Bree, I give her a wave and a thumbs up before mouthing "Congratulations" on her recent promotion to Junior VP. Smiling, she waves back and does a little jig of excitement before turning back to her group. Glancing around the room, it doesn't escape my attention that the boss outdid himself again this year. Not that I expected anything less. The sheer number of food stations, dessert tables, and multiple open bars is staggering, and I feel a momentary twinge of sympathy for my friends who don't work for a company as awesome as Volturi Enterprises. I've listened to countless stories from Jessica and Angela about their corporate events and can do nothing but offer my heartfelt condolences when they lament about half-assed charcuterie boards and cheap Pinot Noir.
My eyes continue to drift before settling on the group of twenty-somethings who joined the sales team a few months ago. Looking at their fresh faces, I can practically feel their bodies humming with an electric buoyancy that can only be found in the very young, the very naïve, or those still subsidized by their parents.
"I give 'em a year before this job sucks every last remnant of joy from their annoyingly shiny souls … two if they're lucky."
Chuckling, I turn to face my coworker and best friend, Alice, whose large blue eyes are perusing the group she has affectionately dubbed, 'The Romper Room Rugrats.'
Accepting the drink she offers, I nod in agreement before clinking my glass against hers.
"Truth."
"The Prosecco is even better than last year," she chirps. "You've got to hand it to old man Volturi – he always gets the good stuff."
Taking a sip, I concur, impressed with the taste of the golden, bubbly liquid when it touches my tongue.
"You look phenomenal, by the way," she adds before downing the rest of her glass and reaching into her purse.
"Why couldn't I have been born when this was socially and culturally acceptable?" she gripes while pulling out a cigarette. "Or at least in Europe. Here, I just feel like some kind of felon."
She turns hopeful eyes to me, but I shake my head.
"Nope."
Sticking out her tongue, she leaves me with a twirl of her skirt before throwing a parting comment over her shoulder.
"Why ya gotta be adding to my shame all the time, Swan?"
Smiling, I reach for a mini quiche and nibble on it to distract myself. It's been almost five years, and I still miss everything about smoking. It was the one constant in my life; a trusted friend; always there for every victory, defeat, and anything in between. Those little cancer sticks gave my hands something to do when I was nervous and kept people at a distance when I didn't want them too close. For most of my adult life, they were my best friend, my lover, and my mentor, all rolled into one.
But I decided to cut the cord with certain things that weren't serving me anymore, and ditching the habit was at the top of the list. I also tossed anything from my closet that I hadn't worn in the past two years. But the one I am most proud of is finally losing the extra 190 pounds that clung to me like a pair of cement shoes for far too long.
His name was Tyler and aside from quitting the butts, kicking him to the curb is probably the best thing I've ever done for my health. I deserve better than someone who makes me feel like shit all the time, especially since my mother currently fills that role – quite adequately, I might add.
"Where's your partner in crime tonight, Miss Swan?"
Jumping slightly, my adrenaline spikes at the sound of a male voice I'd recognize anywhere. Turning, I face the handsome visage of Edward Cullen. His hair is different tonight - smooth and parted on the side -not the chaotic mess it usually is during the day. It should be illegal to be that good-looking and a genuinely nice person. Edward transferred here a few months ago from the New York Office, and although we don't work in the same department, we collaborated on a project recently, and I found him to be intelligent, progressive, and utterly dynamic. He's also the favorite to take over when Mr. Volturi retires.
Pointing to the veranda with my empty glass, I give him a small smile. Raising his eyebrows in understanding, he casually places his hands in the pockets of his tailored pants and leans back on his heels.
"Ah, the smoker's lounge. Where good intentions go to die, God, I miss it."
"Every damn day," I acquiesce with a soft sigh.
"So," he says. "Volturi said your presentation on the Martin deal was flawless. Congratulations."
A blush creeps up my neck at the compliment- something that never happens to me, but it seems every time I'm around this man, I can't help it. He makes me nervous in ways I haven't felt since junior high.
It really sucks that he's married.
That's the rumor, at least. No one really knows for sure. He doesn't talk about his personal life, but Amy Vining, the resident office gossip and assistant to the CFO, was quick to tell anyone within earshot about the photo she'd seen on his desk when she'd helped him set up.
"The most beautiful blonde I've ever seen," she'd gushed. "Like, Hollywood starlet beautiful. And the two small boys- just precious. I can really see the resemblance to Mr. Cullen."
I saw the photo myself when I worked on the Parker deal with him.
"Jesus, Bella," Alice had admonished when I told her. "That was your chance! Why wouldn't you have asked about it? We could have finally gotten to the bottom of the mystery that is Edward Cullen!"
I laughed at her annoyed tone. "Um, maybe because it's none of our business?"
"Is he in the picture?" She pressed.
I shook my head, and she let out a snarky "mmmm hmmm."
"So, where's the f-ing ring? Why isn't he wearing a ring if he's so happily married?"
I'd wondered about that myself, but Alice was already in sleuthing mode with her head in an open laptop.
"He's not on Facebook. The closest I found was an Edwin Cullen in Jupiter, Florida. According to his profile, he's 75 and enjoys bowling and his grandchildren."
"Insta?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
She shook her head. "Nada- he ain't on the Gram either. I can't find him on Twitter, Snapchat, Tik Tok, Pinterest, Match, Tinder, Grinder, or even Ashley Madison." She paused. "Although, I suppose he wouldn't have given his real name there. The point is that the man has zero social media presence, Bella. That's not normal."
"Actually, I find it refreshing," I replied with a soft smile.
Since my split with Tyler, one of the other changes I'd implemented was deleting my two social media accounts. Now, instead of aimlessly scrolling, I enjoyed more time outdoors, with friends, or simply reading a good book. I'd even begun meditating in the mornings – a much better way to start my day.
Alice scoffed.
"Refreshing, or he's hiding something … or from something ... or someone," she'd mumbled while combing the internet.
"Maybe he's got a stalker," she mused aloud.
Furrowing her brow, she clicked on the keys with ferocity.
"All I can find is his Linked In, but that only shows his education and employment background."
She gazed off to the side, deep in thought, before raising her finger in an "ah-ha" moment.
"I can probably find his college records online, and that would -"
"Alice," I interrupted. "Stop. The man obviously wants his privacy, and we should respect that."
Her hands hovered in midair before she'd slowly closed the laptop.
"Have I told you you're no fun?"
Turning, I headed back to my office.
"Repeatedly."
~!~
I was fine with our decision to stop snooping into Edward's personal life. Absolutely fine. It was none of our business. But as I watch him now, from the corner of my eye, I can't help but admire his perfectly dressed physique, and my curiosity arises once again. There's no way this man isn't taken.
Edward plucks two glasses from a tray and hands one to me.
"Mr. V. said it was something to behold- watching you effortlessly handle Martin's team at closing."
Letting out a nervous laugh, I'm slightly embarrassed at the admiration I hear in his voice and try to brush off his praise. "Even a blind squirrel gets a nut occasionally. Mr. Martin was ready to make a move; he just needed some gentle prodding. The result would have been the same if Mike had pitched the account."
"Don't do that," he says, and his voice is soft.
My heart stutters for a moment when his green eyes meet mine, and I give him a perplexed look.
"Do what?"
"Diminish your achievements … or your abilities. You and I both know Newton would have blown that deal. You're great at your job, Bella, and a tremendous asset to this company."
His beautiful eyes are still searching mine and rendering me unable to respond with anything other than a soft, "Thank You."
My stomach flutters when a smile lights up his face.
"You're welcome."
I know he's right. I am good at my job. In fact, I have two promotions under my belt to prove it. I'm qualified and competent. Mr. Volturi sees that, Alice sees that, and even Edward, who hasn't known me that long, sees that. Now, I need to see it myself and believe it instead of listening to my mother's voice; the one I constantly struggle to tamp down, the one that whispers in my ear and tries to tell me otherwise.
"No, really, Edward, thank you," I reiterate with sincerity to let him know how much his words mean to me.
Shrugging his shoulders, he flashes me another brilliant smile.
"I just call 'em as I see 'em."
"How are my star employees doing tonight? Enjoying yourselves?"
Edward and I turn as Mr. Volturi approaches and places an arm around our shoulders. Short and portly, he's wearing a red Christmas vest adorned with a gold watch chain hanging from the pocket. His white beard and rosy cheeks only add to his "Kringle-Esque" appearance, although the hue on his cheeks is more likely from too many glasses of red wine than anything else.
"How's the food?" My wife talked me into changing caterers this year."
Edward and I both give him a thumbs up while lavishing him with praise regarding his wife's advice.
"Good, good, glad to hear it," he says before stopping a server to sample the artichoke dip.
Wiping his face with a cocktail napkin, he turns back to us.
"I was going to wait until next week to avoid talking shop tonight, but it can't wait. I want both of you to start brainstorming as early as possible."
I look at Edward, and he shrugs his shoulders. Mr. Volturi looks between us before smiling and giving me a wink.
"Anderson."
My mouth falls open in shock, and I quickly shut it as I try to regain my composure and contain my excitement. The Anderson account is one the firm has been trying to land for years, and every time we pitch, we lose - last time, to our biggest rival, The Wolf Agency.
Mr. Volturi continues. "Paul's son took over this year and is ready to move. He wants to do things differently than his father has over the past decade."
Glancing at Edward, I notice the slight crinkle in his brow, which I know is a sign that he's listening intently. I noticed a lot about Edward when we worked together on the Parker deal - probably too much, more than what is appropriate or good for me- at least if I don't want to end up with an unrequited crush on another woman's husband. But I was beginning to suspect it might be too late to avoid that pitfall.
Mr. Volturi turns to me. "His people called me last week and said they've been having all kinds of problems since they went with Wolf."
I'm not surprised by this information. The Wolf Agency is helmed by Jacob Black, an up-and-comer notorious for his cutthroat business dealings. Some might say his practices border on unethical, but he always seems to come out on top and pays his team very well.
He even tried to recruit me last year, but I turned him down. Alice and I might make the occasional joke about our jobs, but the truth is, we love working for Volturi Enterprises and are loyal to a fault. Mr. Volturi taught me everything I know about the advertising business, and he's the first man I've ever worked for that isn't patronizing.
"It's always going to be you against the 'Old Boys Club Bella,'" he'd say. "Especially in this business. I'm going to tell you the same thing I tell my two daughters. Show 'em who's boss."
The air around us seems almost charged with electricity as I listen to him continue to talk about the Anderson deal, and looking over at Edward, I can already see the ideas turning in his head.
"I want our best people on this one, with you two at the helm. We can't afford to make any mistakes, and I want the two of you to spearhead the entire campaign. You let me know the players you want, and they're yours."
Looking between Edward and me, he raises his eyebrows in silent question.
"So, what do you say? You guys in, or what?"
"In," I say without hesitation.
"In," Edward responds simultaneously before looking at me with a huge smile.
Mr. Volturi claps us both on the back before plucking three more glasses from a passing tray. Handing them to us, he raises his arm in a toast, and I can't help but catch the twinkle in his eye … almost as if he really is Santa and has the power to make all of our dreams come true.
My old boss actually said that line to me once when I had an accomplishment at work -
"Even a blind squirrel gets a nut occasionally." He even laughed when he said it. Working there for twenty years, I was beaten down and didn't know my worth. Luckily, ten years ago, the winds of fate steered me toward my current job, where they love, appreciate, and promote me!
Merry Christmas!