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Saving Lucifer
CHAPTER FIVE
Bella flung herself through the revolving doors. Losing part of her balance, she wobbled her way in and bumped into a man. At her clumsy performance, several people stared.
"So sorry," she mumbled before scuttling away.
Bella Swan had always been sensitive to both humiliation and attention, and this morning was no exception. Sighing, she cut through the traffic of crisscrossing workaholics and began to doubt herself – will she survive? But she banished that thought as quickly as it had been approached. It was never good to downplay yourself on the first workday.
After what felt like walking through the gateway to Hell, she found herself standing in front of a clean-cut desk in the awkward center of the foyer.
"Hello," Bella greeted through the corner of her lips. No need to be nervous, she reminded herself.
The receptionist was very pretty. It occurred to Bella just now that her existence stood out in the crowd, donned in a modest white shirt and gray jeans. If the rest of the women in this place were as swanky as the ones in the lobby, Bella would willingly climb into a rat hole and admonish herself for her poor sense of style.
Eventually, Bella decided that these women were not only beautiful but also tough and intimidating. The receptionist – her nametag said Gianna – was acting rather rudely, though Bella knew she wasn't doing so intentionally. Gianna's eyes remained plastered onto her computer screen the entire time Bella was speaking, and when she did finally look up, the flat look was scary enough to send Bella hurriedly squeeze-dry her damp hair and brush off the snowflakes on her shoulders that looked like dandruff.
"Demetri Hansen? Are you certain?"
Confused, Bella dug out the notes she had jotted down on her post-it. "Yes, but I was also told that Eleazar Sanchez will be my other supervisor."
"We've been expecting you." Gianna looked to the side and whistled loudly. "Emmett!"
The most boyish-looking one out of the three standby security guards came over strutting with a sigh. "Jesus, you've got to stop doing that whistling thing as if you're assembling a dog…"
Gianna pretended not to notice – or maybe she really didn't, since she seemed too busy staring at Bella… "Go to the Marketing Department and drop her off."
Emmett gave Bella the nod as he led her toward the elevators, and she tailed behind him like a worthless puppy. Once they were behind the elevator doors, he began talking.
"What's your name?" he asked, after jabbing one of the floor numbers.
Bella, who was in the middle of fixing her mascara-smudged eyes without a mirror, blushed. Eyes wide, she timidly pointed to herself in question.
He smiled an awkward – but polite – grin. "Who else?"
"It's Bella." Her lips tipped up into a smile, thankful for his attempt at kindness. "And you're Emmett?"
He cracked a humiliated smile, rubbing the back of his head with a hand. "I guess Gianna made quite an impression on you, huh?"
Bella snorted, remembering how Gianna truly did summon him as if he was her pet.
"And it's going to be okay, you know."
Bella's eyebrows rose.
"You don't have to be so nervous." His eyes flashed down to her trembling fingers before looking back up at her face. "Trust me. This place isn't as bad as it looks."
Embarrassed, Bella quickly hid her fingers away from his view. Smiling wanly, she stammered, "This is technically my first real job."
"Ah," he hummed, and his reaction seemed genuine. Apparently, he needed no more explanation. "Well, that means you already have a solid foot in the door – serving the Volturi and all, no matter how small your part is."
The Volturi? "This company offers a lot."
"Certainly." He flashed a row of white teeth – again, genuine and kind. "If you prove yourself worthy here, you're pretty much worthy anywhere."
Bella's stomach roiled.
"A bit of advice, though," he started, scanning her from head to toe. "You should wear your hair up if you want to look older. I'm not going to lie – people here kind of overwork the younger ones… especially interns."
"Fabulous," Bella muttered.
Emmett laughed. "Well, that and also because your hair's kind of wet."
I'm toast. Even a random security guard guy knew more than she did about this company and this world of competition. She could picture the tragedy already – she was going to break her ankles because of the death traps she had put on, mess up the copy machine to the point of no return with her clumsy fingers, make a bad impression on her boss, type up misspelled emails, and –
She was going to fail.
The hair, Bella suddenly reminded herself. Fix the hair.
Instantly, she jumped into action and stacked her hair up as neatly as possible."Is this all right?"
"Better." He smiled. "Except you might look as if you put too much gel getting ready this morning."
At that, Bella's mouth curled upward.
Her last few seconds of sanity in the elevator were spent smoothing out her rumpled chiffon shirt underneath her coat and chanting praise to herself to gain at least the smallest bit of confidence.
You are sophisticated. You are fast-thinking, and can easily keep pace with these people. And you will be perfectly fine in those heels. They won't take you down or even wobble your feet. Composed. Elegant. Professional – yeah, definitely professional –
Oh, she never said they were working, though.
"You look pale," Emmett pointed out.
Of course she did. This had been her dream since forever, and now, it was so close she could taste it. Bella could only hope it was worth it and that she would finish it off properly.
The elevator dinged at last. Its golden door slid open, and there it was: a long hallway of stark white walls with workers of the floor flying past by and disappearing into different rooms.
"Welcome to Masen Corporations," Emmett announced.
"Thank you."
"Oh, don't sound too eager," he teased. "Now if you'll follow me…"
Clack, clack. Clack… clack.
Emmett twisted over slightly to examine her sleek shoes. "You're not used to those, are you?"
"Can you tell?"
He shrugged.
Clack. Clack. Clack. Bella tried her best to take even, easy steps.
"Here's your stop," he told her eventually. "Well, this is pretty much the farthest I can go. I don't really belong on this floor anyway, so I'll just leave so you can do whatever you do from here. I'm sure your folks are in there… So we'll see each other around often?"
"I hope so."
Emmett gave her a consoling smile. "Good luck, Bella."
Luck – she'll really need that.
Whatever Bella expected to see beyond that bland white door was nothing like what she was seeing now.
People all over. Telephones ringing off the hook. Angry orders and shuffles of paper.
Wasn't it only nine o'clock in the morning?
Bella nearly jumped out of her skin when a severe-looking woman with thick, curly brown hair suddenly came to stand in front of her.
"Name," the woman ordered. Her tone suggested that she felt Bella wasn't worth her time.
"Isabella Swan," Bella replied automatically. "Could you please tell me where –?"
She held up a hand, and Bella immediately quieted. "You're Chelsea's, right? Her department is on the top floor – wait, what did you say your name was?"
"Isabella Swan," she answered, confused, "And I'm Mr. Hansen's, actually."
By then, unfriendly brown eyes had become stony, her lips slowly quirking downward. The woman observed Bella with what looked like apprehension and disapproval. Bella had no idea what to do.
"Eleazar," she called tonelessly, eyes never averting from Bella Swan. "She's here."
At that, the curious – and even envious – eyes of every single person in the room landed onto Bella.
"Take her to her desk," a distant male voice yelled back.
"I have my own desk?" Bella repeated, stunned.
"It so happens," the woman muttered, turning and walking away briskly.
Bella had to concentrate on her footing to keep up. She felt drained already – this woman was overly rude.
"Phone, chair, file, notepad," she recited when they reached the other corner of the spacious room. And with that, she was gone. Bella, standing and hovering like an idiot, was left dumfounded and completely lost.
"Don't mind her," someone told her.
The first thing Bella noticed about the speaker was his suit. She was no fashion genius, but she decided that if she could notice the weirdness, everyone else probably did too. It was just another business suit but somehow very outmoded, especially with the funky tie, awkward sleeve length, cheap fabric, and baggy fit. Still, the style defined him completely; he was an exceptionally tall and skinny man, with oily hair, narrow eyes, and rather poor complexion.
"Her name's Jessica Stanley," he whispered lowly, his button-hole-like eyes widening as if he was sharing a secret. "She's the evil monster of this place."
"I guess I know where she got that from…" Bella took notice of the heavy packets of files and paperwork balancing dangerously on the man's hands. "Oh, sorry, let me help you."
"Thanks." He grinned, showing both rows of his crooked teeth. "I'm Eric Yorkie, the CCO's third assistant. We'll see each other from time to time."
"CCO?"
"Chief Communications Officer, Heidi Lennox – have you heard of her?"
"Oh." Bella blinked. "I'm –"
"Isabella Swan. New college intern. Demetri's. Right?"
It was unnerving that he had a background check on her, but Bella decided to not question it. After all, this friendly Asian man was no doubt the overly helpful, geeky, chess-club type. She had a feeling she'd get along with him pretty well.
"I'd prefer Bella," she told him, smiling shyly.
Eric opened his mouth to say something but someone interrupted.
"You may go back to Jessica, Eric. Thank you."
"Oh, sorry, Eleazar," Eric answered with a nervous laugh. With a tight smile, he took back the stack of paper from Bella's hands and departed silently.
"That boy…" Eleazar sighed. Then he turned his attention to the girl, and his eyes suddenly had the odd faraway look. Whatever he was thinking about, Bella could tell he didn't like it.
"Hello, sir. It's nice to meet you," she replied, anxious.
"Eleazar Sanchez," he tossed back. His voice had a slight touch of a Spanish accent. "Head of this part of personnel and second-in-command in Marketing."
After that, awkward silence pervaded between them. To be frank, it was solely Eleazar Sanchez who was making it so. The hazel in his eyes was dark as he gazed into her muddy ones, and if that wasn't the indication that something was bothering him, his upturned lips were. Besides, wasn't he supposed to offer her a handshake or something?
If he would just stop looking at me like that… The creepy look made Bella squirm, and she was beginning to imagine that something was on her face.
"Your job is simple," he finally said, and Bella let out a breath of relief. "There's not going to be a heavy load of serious work for you. What you will be expected to do, however, is helping these fellows get that serious work done. You will be the one running the errands, filing papers, typing up reports, taking notes, listening, and learning. Understood?"
Bella gave a hasty nod.
Eleazar Sanchez cocked his head to the side condescendingly. "And according to the orders from the upper authority, they want you closely around Mr. Hansen. I'm not sure if this is God's chance or the Devil's trap for you, but that won't be my problem…"
She gulped. She felt like she was having a heart failure.
"Do you know anything about him?"
"Uh, nothing except for the fact that he's the Chief Marketing Officer."
Then he snorted – he snorted at her. "Sure. Now get rid of that coat and follow me. You have to please the man."
"That went well," Eleazar sighed aloud, closing the door behind them quietly.
Did it really? Bella couldn't remember much of the short encounter with the CMO of Masen Corporations. One part of her mind had been dead while the other maniacal; she wasn't even sure of what she said… or did she say anything? One of the little things she did remember, though, was Demetri Hansen's smile. Unlike other things, that minute detail was very fresh in her memory; in fact, she was sure it will stay fresh for a very long time. It was so handsome – Bella had to admit he was a very good-looking man – and yet disgustingly cold, practiced, and formal.
With that, she also remembered the amused gaze he had behind his spectacles as he read off a piece of paper, "Your credentials seem acceptable – slow typing speed, but that shouldn't interfere too much with what you're here for…" That had really sent Bella blushing. Oh, and he also said, "Speak only when you're spoken to," when she went on and asked him a question.
"Hello, Jane."
Bella snapped out of her dazed reverie, and found herself face-to-face to a small woman – shorter than Alice, surprisingly – with beautifully cropped hair and chilling charisma. Her sunglasses were as dark as night and covered more than half her face. It was impossible to see anything beneath those sunglasses, but Bella had the uncanny feeling that the eyes behind those lenses were staring right into hers.
"Who's this?" Jane spoke, voice sweet but sharp.
Bella began to fidget, looking at the tiled floor as if it was the most groundbreaking thing in the world.
"Isabella Swan," Eleazar mused.
That seemed enough of an explanation. "Ah, yes, Alec and Demetri mentioned her a few times…" she trailed off, smirking with the sadistic twist of the mouth. "Quite a disappointment."
Eleazar, squaring his shoulders, gazed at Jane with blank, unfocused eyes… "Well, Jane, I'll see you around."
"Will hope so." Jane let out an imperceptible snort and slinked away.
"Jane Lambert, Chief Strategy Officer. It's amazing how such a small woman can have an ego hundred times her size." Eleazar was scowling to himself by the time he reached the last word. "Though I'm sure you knew that. You'd know better than me anyway."
"I do?" Bella asked rhetorically.
He snorted at her again. He wasn't planning to do more of that the rest of the day, was he?
"I don't understand," Bella murmured, weighing the heaviness of the air around them. She had to tread watchfully – purposefully but also politely and professionally. "I'm not acquainted to any of them – to Mr. Hansen or… her."
Rolling his eyes, Eleazar held a silver card against the sensor, and the glass doors flew open. "Remind me to get you this worker ID." After a few moments, he spoke again, "Of course you don't know them personally – yet."
"I think you're mistaken –"
"What did you expect?" the man interjected. His demeanor, though it had never been polite, was now completely chilling. "You didn't think you could be one of them one day and not be it the next. Once a Volturi, you're a Volturi for life. Don't be innocent with me. We all know."
The words hit her square in the stomach, and she became truly frightened. "But I'm not with this Volturi, or however you pronounce it," Bella said quickly, trying to find the right words. "I'm just a normal student – a normal college intern."
Her words were worse than inadequate, but thankfully, they made enough impact that Eleazar Sanchez's scowl slowly turned from scathing to speculative.
Bella, desperate to stumble into her boss's good graces, tossed in, "I haven't heard of it until today, actually."
Hazel eyes wandered aimlessly from Bella's head to toe – reevaluating, it seemed. Recognition flickered in his stunned expression, really seeing for the first time since they met – the rumpled appearance and the face of a young, kind girl… the look of a normal college intern as she had called herself.
"I should have known better than to believe those rumors." He seemed to say to himself only. He then cleared his throat and said in a louder voice, "But it's always nice to be caught off guard."
Relief washed over Bella instantly, and she smiled.
For a second, Eleazar seemed hesitant, but he resorted to say, "The Volturi is a family name, by the way."
Whatever it was that he saw in her during that enlightening moment, Bella didn't know. However, it certainly turned her boss from a sour man to an amicable one.
Bella Swan had accomplished in winning her boss over earlier that morning. She was feeling pretty good about herself… until she stepped back into the Marketing Department and began to work.
All morning, all Bella did was roaming around, handling errands. No, she didn't have problems with taking orders, but brewing coffee and delivering dry-cleaning weren't exactly the tasks she had in mind. Not to mention, she was beginning to feel her feet swelling up in the confines of her shoes and the blisters forming on her toes.
By midmorning, she had given up on complaining altogether, even though she had no one to actually complain to. But, she would glimpse at "her desk" and would feel miserable all over again – it was hers, and yet she never once got the chance to sit on it. What was the point of getting recommendations from her professors when all she was required to do was stapling papers?
"Is my caffeine still not here yet?" Jessica asked her coworkers, sounding more displeased than angry. "Has she gone to the other side of the country to get it or something?"
"Right here," Bella mumbled as she handed over the cup.
In response, the irritated second assistant of Heidi Lennox gave a short but stern look before stalking back toward the Communications Department.
"Not even bothering with a thank you," Bella muttered, sighing as she fingered her blouse that had turned into something that resembled a version of a rag from the sprinkling rain outside.
"Bella, sweetheart, I'm desperate." One of male workers appeared to her side, and he swooshed by in an urgent trot as he fixed his tie. "Could you deliver the floppy disk on my desk to Yorkie for me? I have a meeting in two minutes."
Before Bella had the time to reply, he had already disappeared down the hall – not that she had the power to reject orders…
This isn't what I wanted, Bella lamented, sluggishly skidding toward the neighboring department for the thousandth time. She had to constantly remind herself that she was just working her way up corporate ladder – gain experience with an internship, get a university diploma, possibly aim for a Master's degree, get a decent job… She was only an intern today, but would become a respected secretary tomorrow. She would start simple, but have a big finish.
"Is it just me, or does it seem like Isabella Swan is not one of them?"
Bella's heart seemed to stop beating altogether. She froze mid-step, her deer-caught-in-the-headlights eyes glued onto the partially opened door of the worker's lounge. Me? They're talking about me?
"Well, she seems like a sweet girl," the other woman admitted. "You never know though."
"That's true – look at Corin! Anyhow, even if she's not one of them, she's still lucky… I wonder what Demetri plans to do with her, though. I mean, I wouldn't exactly call her a prodigy."
"She's from University of Washington, isn't she? Kind of caught me off guard at first." The second woman's voice shrunk to a whisper. "Besides, I heard it's actually Aro himself, not Demetri."
"What? No way!"
"Don't ask me!"
The first one sighed. "Lucky her. She's got her whole life planned out, all perfectly well-crafted."
"Oh, please. I actually think it'll be a depressing life," the other mused. "Would you, for example, want to marry someone you have no interest in? Heidi and Demetri don't look like a happy couple, if you know what I'm talking about…"
"At least they look like the winners of the genetic lottery together."
The two laughed together. "Oh, speaking of marriage, the King family is going to marry off…"
By then, the topic had drifted off from her, which was something Bella was grateful for. Still, it would have been better if they weren't talking about her in the first place.
What kind of stories were going around about her? Why were these ridiculous stories going around when they weren't even true? How did people come up with them? And most of all, why was it her? What did these stories mean? Was it about the Volturi again? What exactly was the Volturi anyway?
"Hola, Bella!"
Her head snapped toward the voice, and she realized that she had reached the right wing of the Communications Department, the detached room where Heidi Lennox's assistants worked separated from the rest of the other workers.
"Sup?" Eric, thankfully, didn't seem to notice Bella's peculiar behavior.
Remembering what she was here for, she passed the disk across the desk to him.
"Ah, thanks, just when I needed it…" He inserted it into the computer and began typing away.
Reluctant to go back, she slumped against the edge of Eric's desk.
"Ooh, slacking off already? Don't tell me that you're tired! We still have the whole afternoon ahead of us!"
She didn't have the energy to match his constantly chipper mood. "Discouraged would be a better choice of word."
Eric smirked knowingly. "Let me guess… Eleazar and Jessica?"
Pursing her lips, Bella shot a glance at the side of the marble room where Jessica's desk was left unoccupied.
"I knew it." He began laughing, and Bella shrugged. "That girl's a piece of work."
"Yeah, you were right earlier," Bella admitted.
"About what – her addiction to caffeine or the hidden monster within?"
"Both." Bella chuckled. "The coffee she has now is her fifth fix… I think. Well, that and it seems to be that she really, really hates me."
Suddenly, Eric had a weird, distorted look on his face. "Yeah…" he trailed off before muttering, "Since you're better off than she is from her point of view."
Bella raised one eyebrow.
He let out a squeaky laugh. "Anyway, she's just another ambitious girl; don't let her get to you. Her stinginess and grousing habit is her defense mechanism sort of thing… at least that's what I try to force myself to believe anyway."
She would have laughed at that, except – "Eric, seriously, what's going on here? I feel like I'm in high school all over again. I know for a fact that I'm not a paranoid person, and yet, for a few times already, I see people acting weird around me. On the way here, I actually heard two people talking about me."
"They're not – for lack of a better word – gossiping."
"Oh?" Bella didn't overlook the fact that he basically agreed that they certainly were gossiping about her. Something is definitely up, she thought in dismay.
He grinned widely with all his teeth, not saying another word. At this, Bella, resigned, rolled her eyes, and after brushing off her blouse, she rose and began to head her way back.
"See you in a minute, Bella," he teased.
"Yeah," she replied with a sigh, "bye."
Every fairytale known to mankind ended with a happily ever after. Rosalie knew, however, that reality on the other hand always ended with a broken heart.
She stared blankly beyond the glassed doors of the building, the snow falling heavily.
Rosalie hadn't heard from Edward for some time, and she was stupidly just realizing that he probably meant to never see her again – or, at the least, not for another great length of time. She still remembered how frail he looked with a body so grossly withered and a pair of eyes more dead than a dead man. He wouldn't tell her what he was up to or what he had been doing for the past few years. She didn't even know if he passed the nights resting in a warm bed or wandering in the cold streets, or if he ate three meals three times a day or simply resorted to starve himself. Now she thought of it, the jacket he had on looked barely durable to fight the snowstorms in Seattle…
She missed him.
It pained her to embrace the fact that the best she could do for him was to wait, pray, and worry. He and her lives have been – and still were – miserable. They belonged together more so than anyone else in the whole world did, the reasons uncountable. The two only had each other to rely on – in their friendship and love – but there were just too many forces that worked against them. People around them in the secular world were one, and Fate, unfortunately, was another. If only things didn't change so drastically, they would have been together, living great lives other people would have been jealous of. If they had been fortunate, they would have been so happy…
Regardless, she also knew she couldn't blame everything on the misfortunate turn of events. Partially – if not more – it was her fault too. She could've done something to alleviate this. Instead of hiding in the shadows and being the helpless crybaby, she could've been that ball of positive energy, the mentally mature woman who knew how to support the lost man, the sturdy center of a circle, and the confident person who knew how to stand up for her own good. There were so many things she could have been. Now, she was everything else the things she would have loved to be weren't: nonexistent, forgettable, inconvenient, needy, and lost – oh, so lost…
Rosalie didn't know what she had to do in the future or what she had to do now, how she had to do it… Every day, she would look back to those happy days and yearn for them, worthlessly complaining about the present and daydreaming about the impossible future.
"How are you feeling, Rose?"
She looked up to see Emmett, concern written all over his face. "I feel fine."
He took in a big breath. "Well, in that case… do you want to grab something to eat? It's lunch time."
Resting her face on the crest of her hand, she let her eyes get lost in the sea of workers weaving through each other, hurrying to get their lunches. "No thank you. I'm not hungry."
"You should eat," he asserted calmly. "I can get you a take-out?"
"No thank you," she replied again, unmoved.
Through her side view, she saw Emmett McCarty opening then closing his mouth before walking away. Sometimes – though she would never in a million years admit this aloud – she respected that boy. Rosalie had heard many things about him – all good things. Although she knew not all the words going around were factual, with the information she had collected about him, he was decidedly a good boy. He lost both of his parents his last year in high school, and consequently dropped out. However, he resorted to find his own living in his way. He also seemed to have precise goals and plans for his life, working as the security guard here in this company being the first step of the entire process. An entire year younger than she, and yet he knew where his final destination was and how to get there – he knew where he wanted to be by the time he would take his last breath.
Damn it. How would she find the final chord that would resolve her?
Rosalie would have to find a way – quickly. Although she didn't realize it, she wasn't in the position to worry about Edward, for she was trapped in the similar purgatory herself. By staying mute and not speaking up, it had become her habit to suppress her desires and take orders of others no matter how reluctant she was. Submissive and hopeless, she had given up all her possessions for them because they wanted her to – forced her to. For years and years, she had watched them twist around her, all with different favors to ask of her – money, reputation, and beauty. And so she had given them every last bit – the things they thought they wanted to have – without leaving a single thing for her own being. Even when the thunder growled and the lightning stroke, she had shushed herself, saying there was nothing to fear. Now, everything was a disaster. Her identity was robbed, and only the pretty but empty trove was laid out bare for the world to see. Even today, they asked for something greater, but what was she to do when there was not even a worthless grain of sand left?
The result? To begin with, once, when she used to have everything a woman could ask for – beauty, wealth, respect for herself and from others around her, and family – she felt she wasn't good enough. She now realized what a silly, shallow, thoughtless girl she had been back then, when today she had nothing to offer but the shell that was left. Rosalie had lost her voice, and she needed to find it forthwith.
"Well, well, well, look who we have here…"
Rosalie stiffened. She looked up to see the three people she hated the most after her stepfather.
"Poor thing! Still working as the mailperson for your own dad's company?"Makenna goaded.
"Seems like she is," Bree remarked, staring pointedly at the rucksack of mails besides Rosalie's feet.
Rosalie flushed red – not with anger but with embarrassment – and imperceptibly moved her chair over so it hid her bag of mails.
"Oh, no," Victoria burst out sweetly, eyes innocently big. Then she smirked, adding, "How pathetic."
"Girls," someone cut off. It was Garrett, Rosalie noted with relief. He sent her a sympathizing glance as he patted her hair like a father would do to his daughter. "It would be best if you leave. I've had enough of loitering from you three over the last several weeks."
Victoria rolled her eyes. "Please, Garrett, I know all too well that you don't take your job seriously."
"I don't think you're in the position to say that because let's face it: you don't even have a job," he answered coolly.
"I'm actually a first-year university student – unlike poor Rosalie here," Victoria tossed back, unfazed, as she stared straight at Rosalie, who shriveled in response. "Besides, I won't need a job for the rest of my life."
Fortunately, Garrett was still headstrong. "I see, so you're telling me that you're not going to get a job because your family can pay you off for the rest of your life, right? Well, speaking of your family, Victoria, I recently heard that your father had to make a call to whatever university you attend now, because you were initially rejected. Besides, the girl you overly enjoy to make fun of –" he side-glanced at the blond girl who was now beginning to lighten up "– may not be in the lucky conditions like you and your little friends to attend college and goof around with the family money, but she works hard anyway within the limitations she has." Garrett gave all three girls a meaningful look. "Please don't undervalue that."
By the end of the speech, Rosalie was smiling and sniffling a little, while Victoria… well, she could look better.
"Wait till my father hears about this," Makenna hissed.
"I certainly can't wait," Garrett replied stiffly.
That was when Bree nudged Victoria in the rib and whispered, "Vicky, there's Royce."
At that, Victoria recovered quickly. Her stare was pointedly on Rosalie as she said the next words, "I've been hearing that Royce's father wishes to wed his son off soon. But the Kings haven't decided on the 'who' part,I believe…"
Rosalie's fists tightened on her knees.
Cocking her head, Victoria continued, "And I'm going to make sure it's going to be me."
"Let's go," Bree urged. "He's going to get on the elevator!"
"See you two later," Victoria sang, flouncing away.
"Ciao," Makenna taunted, obviously pleased that Rosalie seemed so angry, as she tugged Bree along toward the direction Victoria took – to Royce King.
"Why would she…?" Garrett trailed off, brows knitted together in confusion. Then he saw Rosalie's teary eyes… and groaned as he figured out the answer himself. "No, Rose…"
"I'm going to go out for a minute," she announced as steadily as she could, rising from her seat and getting her jacket on without lifting her face to hide the jealous tears.
"But your father specifically told me –"
"I know what he said." Leave her behind the desk and make sure she stays there. The girl needs some restrictions when she's in my property. "I won't be long. I promise you won't get into any trouble even if he does find out."
"It's not that –"
Rosalie had already dashed off, leaving Garrett alone. When the winter flakes hit her face, she broke out into a fast walk, sniffling and sobbing with her head ducked. She knew that life wasn't fair since a long time ago, but every time something happened to prove that once more, it hit her as hard as it had the first time.
It was unfair that her stepfather forbade her to attend college when she was smart enough to do so; that she had nothing better to do but to spend all day in the lobby of his company like a child waiting to get picked up from daycare; that Victoria and her friends had all the legit reasons in the world to downplay her; that she could never be good enough to become Rosalie King…
It was unfair she had to lose her real father, her mother, and now, her Edward.
Even in the horrible weather, people paused to give a speculative look at Rosalie, some worried, some simply surprised to see someone crying in the middle of the street. She didn't mind, though, because she was tired of acting strong. Because she knew – she knew that everyone was just like her – they all smiled, laughed, and hid their scars. But deep inside, they all wanted someone – anyone – to recognize and discover the pain within. They were all hungry for comfort.
Why couldn't she live her own fairytale? Why did God have to take it away from her when she had it in the first place? In her dreams, she was supposed to have gone to college. In her dreams, she was supposed to marry someone she loved. In her dreams, she was supposed to live happily ever after. No, they weren't supposed to be so unfair like this.
Things were never like this in her dreams.
The branches were barren and black against the white grey sky. Clumps of snow, remnants of last night's snowstorm, fell from the branches and marred the glistening ground. Edward tipped his head back, drawing in a deep breath of the crisp winter air. It burned in his lungs, and he closed his eyes, tugging on the collar of the charcoal coat Alice had given him.
Edward shrugged as he jingled his eyes, making his way down the streets. The sky was uncommonly clear, untouched by the clouds. He glanced over his shoulder, and spotted a homeless man dressed in pathos poor clothes and bundled up in sheets of newspapers.
Wordlessly, Edward dug out a couple of quarters from his pocket and dropped them into the broken bowl. The coins slinked down onto it, and the poor man looked up at the sound, his eyes stunned but grateful. Edward avoided the gaze, feeling shy, and moved abruptly to get going again. It was one of those unfixable habits of his – dropping change for the homeless.
The day was especially cold, but he chose to come outside anyway. He felt that a draft of fresh – and cold – air would be a clever form of relief from all the stress and impatience riled up inside of him. And he was feeling especially stressed and impatient today because she promised she would call him to share the news… the news he was more than eager to hear… the news about his father's whereabouts. With his phone in hand, he traversed his hometown. He walked and walked and walked endlessly.
Yes, he was walking. It seemed to be that his feet were the only part of him that didn't feel so helpless.
The only time he stopped at a certain spot for longer than a minute was when he came across a local ice cream store – no, the ice cream store. At first, he couldn't believe it was still here, after all those years; the last time he had come was the day his father had disappeared. The colorful sign – so bright it hurt the onlooker's eyes – stood out in the seas of dreary gray more than ever, and the entire setting and the tender mood made it as welcoming as it always had been.
Edward stepped closer to the glass wall and inspected the people inside. He saw the interior overflowing with smiling and laughing children – he used to be one of them when he was about their age. A smile graced his own lips, not a painful one but not a happy one either, as he saw one particular young boy finally getting his hands on the cone of his vanilla ice cream. Edward even chuckled as he watched the boy's mother rolling his eyes because his own father had done that when he too had wanted a scoop of ice cream in the middle of January. Was that little boy's mom making that face for the same reason? Maybe.
He quickly decided he would come back just for the sake of it. Funnily, reliving this memory, which was one of very few he deeply treasured, wasn't so bad. In fact, he wanted to be here again because it felt as if his psyche yearned for it.
Shit, he then thought. I really have to stop doing this. I'm getting sentimental over an ice cream.
Ring. Ring.
Ring. Ring.
His phone.
"Hello?" Edward answered breathlessly, his heart pumping at top speed as he waited for an answer. All the answer he got was a sigh, and his shoulders fell. He tried to conceal the disappointment, but failed. "I see."
There was a pause. "I'm concentrating on the districts near that café right now…"
"Is it possible?" Edward murmured.
"I have an idea. I'll tell you soon." She paused again, but the silence was much more comfortable than the previous one. "It's a surprise."
At that, Edward snorted, and smiled sincerely. "I can't wait."
"I bet," the response came sarcastically. "Patience, Edward. Just little bit more time."
She was right. He had been waiting for years. He could wait a bit longer. It won't kill him. "Right, call me soon."
"I will," she retorted cryptically before hanging up.
Edward could wait. He knew he had no choice. He must. If patience was what it took to find Edward Sr., Edward could be the most patient person in the world. He would do it. What he was truly worried about, though, was that there was the possibility that he would never find him, regardless of the amount of patience. Edward needed answers, and he was certain his father had them all. But if he should fail to find the man…
Edward shuddered at the thought, and dismissed it immediately. Eventually, he was about two blocks away from the ice cream store where he had picked up his phone. And suddenly, he got an uncomfortable feeling, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. No, not from the cold… definitely not from the cold…
He slowed down to a complete stop, and twisted his neck around to peer over his shoulders one at a time, scanning the buildings, the people, and the city.
Something caught his eye.
His eyes widened.
Not so far away, there were five familiar-looking – but not welcomed – men in dark suits. Edward's lips went dry, and he hastily but calmly put on the hood of his sweater and let it cover his eyes. Quietly, he tried to minimize himself and – fuck, too late. One had already caught the sight of the suspicious tall male.
No. They were going to get the head start.
The next few seconds were thoughtless, hectic, and abrupt. Coming down to one knee, Edward promptly tightened his shoelaces, and as he stood back up, he pulled his sleeves up to his elbows. Edward gritted his teeth in nervous anticipation. They were dangerous men – they could kill him with just one right touch on his pulse point. He only had a couple of seconds to spare.
On your marks.
Adrenaline was already beginning to run in his veins.
Get ready.
At this rate, his heart could break his rib bones. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Set.
His eyes narrowed.
Go.
They burst into a run.
Edward Masen? He burst into a flight.
What a day, Bella thought in a daze as the cold evening air fanned her face.
She could see the setting sun, and the people beneath it were hurrying to return home. Bella, too, was dying to get home too. Her feet were tired, and so were her shoulders, back, and mind. What she needed was a warm cup of coffee, a good book, a bath, and a long sleep.
What she did today wasn't what she had expected – no, not at all. But, she did feel like she learned something from the first day alone. It was interesting to be around different people and work with them. Although a few acted strangely around her – Bella blamed it on the gossip – she knew she had a lot of time ahead of her, and she would just have to fix it. She would have to find out the story behind the gossip too. But excluding those people, the rest were quite complaisant and respectful to her; they didn't treat her like an irritable college intern, but like just another fellow coworker.
Jessica Stanley was another problem, though unique compared to her other concerns. On this matter, it was entirely Bella's fault. Upon delivering yet another drink of coffee, she accidentally floundered on her steps and toppled the hot liquid over Jessica's working area.
Everything turned into a mess – not just the desk, but Jessica's already wildly curly hair as well from pulling it over and over again in her distress. When Bella blushed red from head to toe, at lost at what to do, Eric Yorkie was bold enough to laugh. And for that, he too had to face Jessica's fury.
Essentially, what Bella accomplished on her first day at work was that she had managed to release the wrath of the evil monster. Initially, the woman had unreasonable hatred for her, but now, it had become a legitimate one because Bella gave her that reason.
As if the sky was reflecting Bella's mood, it turned murkier and cloudier. The sun repeatedly hid behind the film of clouds before reappearing, and eventually, it began to snow. Before she knew it, the snow turned into sloshing rain.
"Perfect," Bella muttered at the sky. Her heels clacked on the cement as she scurried away, the sound blending in with the incessant drone of rain that plunged off from the sky like pebbles off the skyscraper. With each step, a fast-forming puddle of water drenched her denim, staining it to black.
Soon, Bella was fuming. Did everything have to go wrong today? Holding up her bag above her head in feeble attempt to shield herself against the downpour, she lamented on how she decided not to bring an umbrella with her. How stupid. This was Seattle, for crying out loud.
A taxi sped down the road, spraying mud onto her, and she screeched in surprise. A moment later, she resorted to run to the nearby shop with a roof, professing defeat to the weather because she was certain the sloshing rain wasn't going to stop any time soon. Luckily, she wasn't too soaked, but it was still cold.
I probably look like a stray cat, shaking like this, she thought to herself. Oh, she could only guess what happened to her make-up… Wait, never mind, I probably look like a mutated panda. Hah.
Suddenly, an old man with a big umbrella passed by her, and the steam rising from the warm coffee in his hand caught her eye.
Oh, coffee! Bella began her desperate search for the familiar circular green sign, tiptoeing and craning her neck. When she located it, she only had a millisecond of contemplation before dashing toward it. She deserved a drink, right?
When she entered the coffee shop, she slowed to a walk. Bella Swan was determined to take time nursing her coffee until the rain stopped for no better reason that even though everything else wasn't necessarily going the way she desired, at least she'd have the warm drink.
The line was long, the place much more crowded than usual. In her place in the waiting line, Bella attempted to smooth out her hair. To no avail, it messed up even more and she simply decided to throw it back into a bun again.
"Black coffee, please," Bella said when it was her turn.
The worker, a girl around her age with a snobby impatient look on her face, punched a few keys on the register before bringing the drink. She set it on the counter with the receipt – the cost was four dollars and ninety-five cents.
Opening up her wallet, Bella pulled out three one's. Sending an apologetic smile to the cashier, who now looked bored, she unzipped the change compartment.
No quarters.
Staring at it in disbelief, Bella hurriedly dumped the small amount of change on the counter and began to count.
"Hey," the worker sighed, "there are people waiting behind you. Could you hurry up?"
Bella Swan would have gotten peeved, except she was then done with the math and had ended up with the grand total of three dollars and eighty cents.
Uh oh, she thought. The worker didn't look happy, and neither did Bella. She couldn't do anything but stare at her pathetic sheaf of money.
"Anything else?" the worker snapped.
"Yes," a voice interrupted, and Bella jumped. A ten-dollar-bill came into Bella's side view. "A Cappuccino."
"Oh, of course! I'll be right back with your order," the worker said with a broad smile before returning to the coffee machines.
Bella could not be more embarrassed.
"You don't have to do that," she mumbled, refusing to turn around because she wanted to hide the blush.
"I know."
Before Bella got the chance to answer, the drink was set down next to hers and the change was given back. Resigned but still embarrassed, she murmured a genuine thank you.
Pause. "Welcome," mumbled back the stranger.
Bella was surprised when his hands reached out and took both drinks. She stared curiously at the back of the man walking toward the back of the shop. After a moment of contemplation, she followed him.
He sat down at a table located in the far corner, where the wall it was against was the opposite side from the windows. Although he didn't make any gesture for Bella to take the second seat, self-concluding that she was permitted because her coffee was placed there, she sat down.
She couldn't see any part his face. It was a wonder how he managed to conceal himself as thoroughly as that. All that was revealed to her was the shadow of his profile because he was looking over to the side at the windows, hood obscuring more than half of his face, as he appeared to deliberately check for something.
The silence, in the noisy room, was unbearable. She scrutinized all of his actions attentively – chewing on his nails, tapping his foot, frequently ducking and hiding, flinching – and decided that he was extremely nervous.
"Thanks again," Bella mumbled more cautiously this time, as she took the first sip of her almost-forgotten coffee.
"Don't mention it."
Inconspicuously, Bella leaned forward and tried to look up to see his entire face. In reaction, he slinked away, tucking his chin in and masking his mouth with the back of his hand, but she still saw –… Her heart raced. Wasn't he –?
"Edward Masen?" she whispered in disbelief.
"Shh," he insisted in a hushed but fierce tone. Although his face was still covered, the shift of his posture displayed his desperation, anxiety, and annoyance. Somehow, Bella knew he was staring – in fact, glaring – straight at her.
"You're…" Bella stared blankly before swallowing. "What are you doing… here?"
At that, Edward Masen sucked in a big, long breath, clearly displeased. He roughly threw off his hood – at last – and locked eyes with hers. At the eye-contact, she was reminded all over again of why she felt so attached to him. The juxtaposition he showed – the stubborn face versus the vulnerable eyes – made her heart ache.
His eyes never left hers as he bit off, "What does it look like I'm doing?"
You look like you're running away from your personal demons, she thought. You look scared to death.
"Um," Bella stuttered uselessly, unable to form words from her thoughts – that, and because she knew her assumption could sound offensive. Her eyes flew down to her drink. "Why did you pay for me?"
For a moment, Bella thought the glaciers in his taken-aback eyes vanished, but not even a second later, they were back – only this time, even colder. "That's none of your business," he stammered – yes, stammered. "I had no choice." Pause. His gaze averted to somewhere else as he distractedly fumbled with his tangled hair. "It was not because of you. It was for my own good."
Bella's mouth dropped open slightly, dumbfounded. "… For your own –"
"Yes, for my own good," he cut her off, causing her to recoil. He began talking faster – could it be that he was flustered? "Besides, you were obviously broke, and I didn't have the patience to wait longer in the line."
Bella should feel offended, but wasn't. After all, she knew she didn't know how to act or talk around him; every time she tried to talk to him, she seemed to get the words wrong. "Well."
The eyes of the fallen angel flashed to hers, alert. "What?"
She was surprised at the harsh reaction she got. "Nothing."
His eyes narrowed at her. They were same as ever – dark but lit, angry but sad, confusing but expressive… And as cliché as it sounded, they were as deep as the oceans and shone as brightly as the stars. Bella, recalling a distant memory, had once heard from her mother. She had been told that if a person had unusually bright eyes, it was because his or her energy – spirit – was concentrated there…
Then she noticed something. "Did you get contacts?"
Either time had frozen, or he was sitting perfectly still with a deadpanned expression on his face. Then out of the blue, he smirked. "What did you say?"
"I mean," Bella began to explain, flustered that she had blurted that out, as she attempted to avoid the unnerving eye-contact, "Your eyes were green the last time I saw you, and now, they're this golden brown…"
"Yeah, I know," he answered, voice controlled and soft. Bella didn't miss how he smoothly threw his hood back on, intentionally and effectively cutting off their eye-contact. "It's the fluorescents."
Right, Bella thought humorlessly.
There was another period of silence, but somehow, this one felt longer and heavier. She even felt herself sweating at the nape of the neck. She simply couldn't believe she was having this conversation. With him. Here.
"Not again," Edward suddenly muttered. His voice had a bitter edge.
Bella watched in her stupor as he picked up his coffee and stood up in a brusque manner, scraping the chair back with a screech.
He was staring down at her, standing motionlessly. "Come."
She bolted up from her chair in surprise more than in submission to his order.
He stepped further into the shadows of the room, eyes casted downward. Bella, on the other hand, hovered inefficiently.
"Follow me. Quickly," he ordered curtly. He swept her coffee from the table as well, and headed indirectly toward the exit door by circling the room. Confused but not questioning, she followed his example.
"Here's your drink," he told her the moment they were outside. "You can leave now."
That's it? Just like that? "Okay," she replied inadequately.
He sighed loudly, shoulders visibly rising and falling. "Which way are you heading?"
"Um, just down that street over there."
His lips thinned. He must be frowning, Bella guessed.
"I guess that's okay," he sighed.
Bella raised an eyebrow, but he was looking away. No, actually, he had stopped dead, eyes focusing somewhere behind her. He fixed his hood so it was more secure than before – if that was possible.
She was more than confused by his cryptic behavior. In his spot, he turned around too casually and stepped away from the roof, not minding the rain. She thought he was going to leave, but then he hesitated and pirouetted so he was back to facing her. For one moment, he stood there, just watching her. Bella saw his mouth opening and closing, but in the end, he merely settled on jerking his head in gesture for her to follow him.
"What's wrong?" Bella whispered. After a quick glance behind, she submissively hurried after him – with her bag above her head again – without thinking.
"Nothing," he answered without turning around.
What a typical response, Bella thought to herself. "What are you running away from?"
This stopped him. He flicked one stiff look over his shoulder before speeding up. "I'm not running away from anything," he clarified sharply. "This is just –"
Once more, he stopped dead. Bella, who had been trying to catch up to his speed, confronted his back and tumbled over him at the sudden halt – a version of a déjà vu that night at Alice's boutique. Interestingly, he didn't flinch away like last time, too busy staring at –…
Bella wanted to see what Edward Masen was intensely observing, but not a chance. Because out of the blue, without her permission, he tore her cup of coffee away from her hands before dumping it into the nearby trashcan with his. Bella witnessed all this in shock. Although he might have finished his drink, she had been nowhere close to done.
"What in the world…" It was the first time she was truly angry at him. "Why would you –?"
He shut her up by placing the back of his hand over her mouth. "How many more times do I have to tell you to stay quiet? Or is it just in your nature to not do as you are told?"
Bella heard the implication of his words. He wasn't just talking about her "not staying quiet" – it was much more.
"Yes –" Her eyes widened, realizing what she had said. "No, I meant, no! No!"
Suddenly, Edward Masen stepped forward – a step closer to Bella – and she unconsciously took a step back. As she did so, one tip of his lips went up into a small smirk, but he hurriedly concealed it. Unperturbed, he carefully yet effectively buttoned up her coat all the way up to her chin and fixed the collars on her neck. After a moment of hesitation, his hand reached to the back of her head to her haphazard bun. There, he tugged the bun so it fell down to her shoulders. She was amazed at his gentle touch.
"Cover your face," he requested as he handed over her the hair tie. He began fumbling with his own clothes.
Her heart was beyond beating quickly – the sound was nearly a hum."You have to tell me what's going on, or –"
"It's not safe here," was his simple yet vague answer.
That caught her off guard. "So you're just going to leave?"
"No, of course not."
She let out a subdued yelp as he unexpectedly took her hand in his – it was much warmer than the last time they made the contact. Startled, she looked up, and at this proximity, she saw the piercing gaze he had on her, as if he was trying to figure her out. It was ironic – it was she who was trying to figure him out.
"We are," he finished flatly.
It was that moment Edward broke out into a mad sprint, tugging Bella along. They ran through the downpour of rain, leaving all of time and world behind them.
The Demon could only hope.
He hopes that one day, he wouldn't be vile…
That one day, he would rise… and phase into the form of an angel he always wanted to be.
Uh oh, what's happening now? Did I make an acceptable cliffie? Any speculations you'd like to share about Bella? Rosalie? Edward? I'd love to hear them! *** And now I present you with an official stalking resource… Twitter! Follow me SarahYoungEun, yeah? You never know what I'll tweet… Updates or sneak peeks, anyone? :D ***
I know it's been a long time, but I won't give up on any of my stories – the updates are just going to come at times you least expect it!
Please, go ahead and leave me a review!