216Outtake Three:
The Drawer
One week.
That's how long it's been since I had the misfortune of having hot soup poured on my privates by that worker, Bella.
I don't think about her often, since I'm able to keep my mind occupied by other things. Still, she remains a lingering thought at the back of my head, always there but never quite at the forefront of my mind.
Forgetting her is impossible.
In order to do something other than lying around, I decide to head to the library. It's been a while since I've aimlessly roamed the shelves.
On my way there, I run into Emmett.
"Where you headed?" he asks.
"Library," I reply. "Wanna come?"
He snorts and rolls his eyes. That's the only answer I need.
"I'll be with your father if you need me," he calls as we walk in opposite directions. "You know, in case someone attacks you in the library."
I chuckle, completely understanding his sarcasm. The Secret Service guards often joke about how nothing dangerous ever happens at the manor. They basically get paid for standing around, but they're not complaining.
I enter the library just as a few workers are leaving with cleaning supplies. They smile and nod politely, and I return the gesture.
I don't know where to start.
The library has always been my favorite room in the manor. I remember spending hours upon hours in here, often times falling asleep and having someone carry me to bed.
The familiar rustic, old smell of the room greets me.
I start on my right, running my fingers over the spines of the books. When I was a teenager, I used to do this and then stop at random, pulling out whatever book my fingers happened to be resting on.
I begin that same routine now, letting my fingertips drop against the spines. They make dull tapping sounds, echoing in the silent space around me.
I wander aimlessly, just letting my feet walk me where they want and letting my fingers touch the books until they decide to stop.
At one point, I'm vaguely aware that I've ended up on the opposite side of the library.
Suddenly, I realize that I'm not alone.
There's a voice.
Soft. Female. Sultry.
It's almost familiar, though not quite.
She speaks in hushed tones, her whispers filling up this part of the room.
Is she a worker? She must be; I don't recognize the voice as belonging to my family.
I am also surprised to find that there's anyone in the library at all. Usually it's empty. The workers are technically allowed to share, but they generally don't.
My feet pull me toward the voice, almost magnetically. A part of me wonders if I've gone mad and am just hearing things.
"Tell her to chill out, I'm alive," the voice says, tone laced with slight irritation. "Yup. See you in a bit."
There's complete silence after that and I halt my steps, wondering if I should keep going. I don't want to disturb whoever she is.
I decide to be discreet, planning on casually peeking at the owner of the voice. I don't want to bother her, but for some reason I want to know how she looks.
It's suddenly gone silent, so I momentarily think that she left.
That is, until she crashes into me quite hard.
I stumble back a couple steps but regain my balance, my arms instinctively reaching out to grasp her waist before she can tumble to the floor. My hands curl around a soft, slim waist as two small hands tightly grasp my biceps for stability.
I'm greeted by the wide, brown eyes that have haunted the crevices of my mind for the past seven days. Her gaze is stunned, if not just a little bit frightened.
I let go of her, but perhaps too quickly, since she stumbles back.
"Are you all right?" I ask.
"Yes sir," she squeaks like a mouse, and I'm taken aback by that.
Not wanting to be impolite, I look down at the items she's dropped to hide my twitching lips. I don't want to laugh at her, but when she talks like that…
I notice the thick book on the ground and bend down to pick it up, seeing that it's one of Austen's works. A collection of her works, rather.
"Were you going to bother this?" I ask, genuinely curious. She'd be the first worker in a very long time to borrow something from here.
"Huh?" She seems distracted, but I'm pretty sure she's heard my question.
She stares at me, blinking slowly, and it annoys me but I push it aside. I don't think a worker has ever looked me in the eye for so long.
"You can borrow it, if you like…" I trail off, watching her for a reaction other than the blank stare. She blinks and shakes her head, as though coming to her senses.
"Oh, um, no," she mumbles. "I wasn't going to borrow it… sir. I was just, um…"
She's lying.
Is she intimidated?
That would make sense, but I feel a pang of… something. Is it guilt? Sadness? I don't want her to be intimidated by me.
To scare her less, I try small talk. I make some comment about Jane Austen's works, and then hold the book out for her to take. I don't know why, but I'm eager for her to have it.
"Take it," I say, and it unintentionally comes out like an order.
Habit.
She takes the book from me, and her small thumb grazes mine. For a moment, it's like there's a current of electricity running underneath my skin. It's so brief that for a moment I think I've imagined it,
She thanks me quietly and there's just something about her voice that gives off the air of innocence.
Her eyes betray her.
I don't know what she's thinking, but there's a spark that's anything but innocent.
I nod at her and then pick up the dusting supplies she dropped. It then occurs to me that I'm probably distracting her from her work.
"I'm probably keeping you from your work," I say apologetically. "I apologize…?"
I trail off and pretend not to know her name. It might creep her out if I said it without her telling me what it is.
"B-Bella," she says quietly.
I nod and then we're interrupted by Emmett.
"Your Highness?"
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. Emmett never calls me that unless I'm around workers.
"Your father wants you," he says, and I nod at him.
I give Bella one last glance, wanting to say something else but unsure of what, before following Emmett out.
Carlisle wanted me for something rather important.
I stare down at the papers in my hands, trying to absorb the truth that's staring me in the face.
It's hard for it to sink in, it really is.
Carlisle and Esme have been my parents for every single day of my life. Having evidence that they're actually not is something so surreal. Even though they told me this when I was eighteen, it is only recently that Carlisle's been able to dig up the records themselves.
Now, with the proof in my hands, it's a strong dose of reality.
I wonder what my life would be like if Elizabeth had lived. Obviously, I wouldn't have the pressure of a royal life, the impending stress of a throne that I'm still unsure what I would do with.
It makes me wonder…
Would I have been normal?
Maybe not entirely normal, since I would have still lived in the manor, but normalcy would have been closer to me. I could have gone to school, made friends, moved out eventually.
It could have been mine.
I finally pull my eyes away from the name Elizabeth Leigh Masen and walk over to my desk.
"Hey, Edward!" I startle slightly and turn to see Emmett standing in my doorway. He doesn't know about this, and he can't.
No one can.
"What?" I mutter distractingly, throwing the papers into the open bottom drawer. It has a lock on it.
"Your mom wants you to come back. Where's your phone? She's been calling."
I look around for my phone and find it on the floor near the bed. Sure enough, there are two missed calls from my mother. She gets worried easily, and obviously called Emmett to ask where I was.
Sighing, I follow Emmett out for the second time that day.
My mother wanted to talk to me about Tanya.
Tanya.
What can I possibly say about her?
There was once a time when the two of us were really good friends. She's always been headstrong about what she wants, and it doesn't hurt that she's attractive. It doesn't hurt that my parents are close friends with her parents. It's always been implied that we'd become a "thing".
My parents have been pressuring me to marry her for a while now. It's gotten to the point where I'm thinking about appeasing them just to get them to stop badgering me.
Marrying Tanya doesn't seem like that bad of an idea. Tanya can be a bit… tenacious, but it's nothing I can't handle. I've seen her at her worst, and she's probably the only girl that I've ever met that I've liked as more than just a friend…
A brief flash of brown hair and eyes flashes through my mind, but it's so quick that it doesn't even worry me.
When I enter my bedroom, the sight I see freezes me in my tracks and causes panic to seize my chest.
Bella is leaning down and looking into the bottom drawer of my desk, her head tilted to the side.
The drawer with my birth certificate.
Fuck.
Fury grips me, stiffening my muscles.
"What do you think you're doing?"
She jumps and squeals at the sound of my voice, whirling around to stare at me with wide eyes. She looks completely innocent, but that only angers me further. What she was doing was far from innocent.
"Explain yourself," I order, and I clench my fists, trying to rein my anger in.
She stutters some nonsense about not knowing if she was allowed to clean the desk, but everything she says just flies over my head.
The fact of the matter is that, as endearing as this girl is, I don't know her. Therefore, I can't trust her. She could be a gossip, she could tell everyone I'm not biologically related to Esme and Carlisle, and then I'd be royally screwed.
My resolve is strengthened as she tells me she didn't mean to look, but I can't tell if she's lying.
I'm not taking any chances though.
So, I threaten her.
I threaten to fire her if I catch her touching my personal things.
With that, I kick her out.
She scrams like a rat with its tail on fire, and I take a few breaths to calm myself down.
I walk over to the desk and shut the drawer, making sure to lock it with the padlock.
Suddenly, there's remorse.
I overreacted.
I let my temper get the best of me and scared her off. The thought of frightening her really, really irks me. As if that wasn't bad enough, I threatened for her to lose her job.
I'm a fool.
Surely, she wasn't really snooping. She was just confused about how to do her job.
I sink down on my bed and rub my face with both hands.
I know that had it been any other worker, I wouldn't feel guilty for snapping on them. I've snapped on a few before, nothing big, but it's happened. I've always been justified, except for now.
It's her.
It's Bella.
Something about her just…
It catches me off guard. It makes me lose any sense of order, any sense of being calm and collected. I always feel well put together, but when I'm around her it's like she's slowly unraveling me from my tightly bound persona.
Maybe it's because she's so unpredictable.
I'm not used to the unpredictable.
I don't even know this girl, and yet she crawls under my skin.
I need to try and forget her.
She's just a worker.
With that thought comes a little more remorse.
A worker.
Shit.
With the direction my thoughts are taking, I know that I'm screwed if I let this go any further.
I need to propose to Tanya.
Soon.
A/N: Eeek. I know I haven't updated this in like 5 months. That is such an absolute fail. I'm not going to make excuses, but I can promise that more of these are on their way. Especially since I'm finishing up Royal Rebellions and still have a few weeks before the semester starts.
Thanks for reading and sticking with me! See you soon. :)