Author's Note: There's a running theme in this story about others strongly believing that Bella is in love with someone she actually hates. I borrowed that form Sophie Kinsella and her brilliant Shopaholic series, which you should really read. Okay, read on and enjoy!

Bella

‘Shit!’ I cursed, and swerved wildly, nearly hitting another silver Volvo. The driver of the Volvo honked angrily, and sweat beaded on my cold forehead. My left heel jammed hard onto the brake and I jerked forward, fingers gripping the wheel very tightly.

The teenager on the bicycle I nearly hit hurried away. ‘Watch where you’re going, lady!’ he shouted, and very charmingly flipped up his middle finger.

Gasping, I hastily continued into the intersection and turned left, heart thumping, escaping the myriad of irritated drivers who had started an orchestra of honks behind me.

Clearly, I wasn’t the best driver.

But who could blame me? I was late, damnit! And of all days… today was the day of m scheduled meeting! I glanced at the large folio of papers sitting idly beside me, and calmly reassured myself that it wasn’t going anywhere.

I found myself wishing that I really hadn’t stayed up all night watching Sex and the City, and grumbling about my own sex life. My last boyfriend left me for a German model named Saskia and now I was practically celibate.

Rounding another corner and still breathing heavily, I hurriedly parked my beaten-up sedan into a tiny parking space. Grabbing my purse and realigning my underwear, I peered up and saw that I was a hundred yards away from the actual work building. A large, gleaming sign stood proudly on top of the magnificent building, nearly thirty-stories high and the sun reflected off its glassy surface, momentarily blinding me.

Cullen International Corporation.

--

Edward Cullen.

Speak this name to any woman on earth, and expect much gushing, swooning and squealing. Recently named People magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive award for two years in a row, Edward Cullen effectively beat other celebrities like George Clooney and Brad Pitt.

With effortlessly tussled bronze hair, mesmerizing golden eyes, cheekbones sharp enough to cut you and a body that made the sternest and stiffest of women blush like teenagers, Edward Cullen certainly deserved the title.

Edward Cullen had inherited an almost indecent sum of money from his late grandfather, and founded Cullen International Corporation. His company grew with alarming speed, and soon it was internationally known. He took over telecommunications at the age of twenty-three, and his company grew even more. His company’s branches popped up out of nowhere overnight, and everywhere I went I saw Cullen International Corporation under everything. Edward Cullen had branched out to luxury apartments and hotels.

‘Cullen’ was practically a household name now.

And I was headed towards one of his main branches in New York, applying for a job. I knew I probably would start out really slow: maybe a sort of handy-woman, fetching things for other people of higher position, but I simply didn’t have a choice. Mum and Dad were telephoning me every few days, and asking me if I had gotten a job yet, or not. It was really annoying, and I usually made up some excuse before Mum started hyperventilating.

A job was still a job, after all.

--

I staggered inside the revolving doors, and promptly snagged the other end of my precious coat. Tugging it open, I stumbled in the lobby of the building of Cullen International Corporation (CIC) and was immediately greeted with a myriad of people swarming all over the place, mostly men with crisp, Giorgio Armani suits and women with stern buns resting at the nape of their necks.

I hurried over to the elevators, and tapped on a button. The elevator doors slid open with a ‘ping!’ and I stepped in, squeezing through a horde of people, most of them screaming into their cell phones, hands holding briefcases. I looked down at my own hands, which were crammed with a large variety of things: a green, official looking folio, a chocolate bar I was saving for later and my car keys.

I waited impatiently as the elevator glided upwards, to the top-most floor.

I needed this job. I shuffled my interview papers nervously, and thought of the resumé I had prepared. I shuffled around guiltily when I thought of a tiny section I might’ve exaggerated a little. Well, who would know that I didn’t exactly speak five different languages? I figured an internationally acclaimed company might need some bilingual people, anyway.

The job I was applying for didn’t exactly need me to be bilingual but still…

My meeting with Cullen’s assistant was scheduled for eight-thirty, and it was nearing eight-forty-five now. I tapped my foot, and waited as more and more people filtered out, leaving me alone in the elevator.

The doors slid open again, and I rushed out.

The thirtieth floor was decorated elegantly, with a beige, carpeted floor and large windows on each wall. A hallway led to a large, silvery desk at the very end of it, and I hurried over, hair flying. Strangely enough, the desk was completely devoid of anyone. Behind the desk was a set of enormous double doors, and on them hung a golden plaque, bearing the words Mr. Edward Cullen. I sighed, hoping the meeting wasn’t cancelled, and sat down at the desk, waiting for someone to come out.

Edward

Today really wasn’t one of my best days.

‘What do you mean, you quit?’ I demanded into the phone, and my fingers clenched around a fountain pen. My desk was crammed with various documents, and I felt fed up of all of them. Off all days, that blasted Jessica just had to resign as my personal assistant today… those PR people from Slovakia were coming in today, and none of those contracts were here.

‘Never mind, don’t quit! You’re fired!’ I yelled rather dementedly into the phone, and slammed it back on its cradle. Groaning loudly, I buried my head into my hands and hit my head repeatedly on the table.

There was still Yvonne, my junior assistant, but of course, I only hired her for rather… ah, ‘personal’ affairs. Someone knocked politely on my office doors, and I called out wearily, ‘Come in!’

Yvonne sauntered in, wearing spiky red heels and her hair piled up high. Her white blouse seemed extra low cut today and even in my frustrated state I still appreciated this little gesture. She strode in and settled herself on the edge of my cluttered desk, red lips smiling. ‘The Slovakians are here, Mr. Cullen.’ she purred, and rolled up her sleeves higher.

I groaned more, and hurriedly stood up, shrugging on my suit. ‘Tell them I’ll be down in a moment.’

‘Oh, and there’s this girl outside that says she has an interview with Jessica.’ she pouted, and leaned forward, doe-eyed.

Blast that Jessica.

I brightened up. ‘Hire her as my junior assistant. Rosalie, you’re promoted.’ I told her, straightened my giggled. ‘Tell her to report for work tomorrow morning, and she’d better not come late.’

Yvonne nodded, and walked out of the room, behind swaying slightly. I stood there for a moment, enjoying the ‘view’ and snapped out of my reverie.

Damn Slovakians.

Bella

Humming a tuneless song under my breath, and tapped my fingers idly on the empty desk, fiddling around with some pens that were placed in a pencil holder.

Ooh, look, pure silver.

I picked up a fountain pen, and admired it closely. The words ‘Cullen International Corporation’ was emblazoned in gold, and it looked very fancy indeed. I looked right and left, I slowly snuck in in my handbag, feeling rather guilty. Oh well, since no one was looking. And it wasn’t like they needed pens.

Continuing my humming, I looked around idly, feeling increasingly bored. She itched to open those huge double doors, but something told her not to. Besides, she could hear rather loud yells from inside.

Ping!

Jumping up, I hurriedly rearranged my resumé and tried to look presentable. My hair was a lost case but…

A stunning girl with her blonde hair in a high bun walked along the hallway, and she looked as though she belonged in a whore-house rather than an office building. She appeared to have forgotten to button the top three buttons of her blouse, and she now showed off a generous share of cleavage. Her heels clacked against the floor, and I hurriedly walked out from behind the desk, fearing that it may be hers.

‘Miss!’ I called out, ecstatic at finally getting a job.

She shot me an irritated look, one that clearly said: ‘who-the-hell-is-this-and-why-should-I-even-bother’. ‘I’m here for my interview!’ I told her, and presented my resumé rather proudly. She looked at the piece of paper as though it was a rag dipped in rancid manure. She pinched the very edge of the paper with red fingernails. ‘I’ll be sure to look at it.’ she said sarcastically.

I smiled forcedly, and watched as she opened those doors and walked in.

Bitch.

Three guesses why Edward Cullen had hired her.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the desk again, feeling very nervous. This could be the changing point of my life. No more living in an apartment with Alice again! I still owed her last month’s rent…

I drifted off dreamily and was shaken out of my daydream when that bitch came striding out again, but this time a very frazzled looking man looking devilishly handsome in a gray suit strode purposefully out, tugging on his tie.

Edward Cullen.

I had to admit somewhat grudgingly, those pictures in newspaper articles of him did him no justice. Even with a frown on his face, he still looked gorgeous. His hair looked silky smooth to the touch, and even the way he walked seemed impossibly graceful, his movements never faltering.

He didn’t even glance at me.

For some reason, I felt rather disappointed.

The ‘assistant’ walked over, and slapped my resumé down in front of me. ‘Report tomorrow to Mr. Edward Cullen’s office, eight o’ clock sharp. You are now his new junior assistant, and you will be informed off your duties tomorrow by me. Wear something more… suitable.’ she looked contemptuously at my own clumsily thrown together outfit, consisting of a crazy, patchwork sweater Alice had knitted when she went through her knitting phase, and frayed jeans.

I nodded, shell-shocked.

She walked away, and disappeared down the elevator, hair swaying enticingly.

Junior assistant?!

Boy, these people sure liked bilingual people.

Author’s Note: Yes, um… second attempt at a TWILIGHT fic, hope you guys honestly like it. Review and give me some constructive criticism, if you can. Oh, and I’m sorry if I made any mistakes about those ‘businessy’ stuff, I don’t know nothing about it so I mostly made up a lot of things. Yeah so… hope you guys enjoyed it!

Bella

‘Shit!’ I cursed, and swerved wildly, nearly hitting another silver Volvo. The driver of the Volvo honked angrily, and sweat beaded on my cold forehead. My left heel jammed hard onto the brake and I jerked forward, fingers gripping the wheel very tightly.

The teenager on the bicycle I nearly hit hurried away. ‘Watch where you’re going, lady!’ he shouted, and very charmingly flipped up his middle finger.

Gasping, I hastily continued into the intersection and turned left, heart thumping, escaping the myriad of irritated drivers who had started an orchestra of honks behind me.

Clearly, I wasn’t the best driver.

But who could blame me? I was late, damnit! And of all days… today was the day of m scheduled meeting! I glanced at the large folio of papers sitting idly beside me, and calmly reassured myself that it wasn’t going anywhere.

I found myself wishing that I really hadn’t stayed up all night watching Sex and the City, and grumbling about my own sex life. My last boyfriend left me for a German model named Saskia and now I was practically celibate.

Rounding another corner and still breathing heavily, I hurriedly parked my beaten-up sedan into a tiny parking space. Grabbing my purse and realigning my underwear, I peered up and saw that I was a hundred yards away from the actual work building. A large, gleaming sign stood proudly on top of the magnificent building, nearly thirty-stories high and the sun reflected off its glassy surface, momentarily blinding me.

Cullen International Corporation.

--

Edward Cullen.

Speak this name to any woman on earth, and expect much gushing, swooning and squealing. Recently named People magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive award for two years in a row, Edward Cullen effectively beat other celebrities like George Clooney and Brad Pitt.

With effortlessly tussled bronze hair, mesmerizing golden eyes, cheekbones sharp enough to cut you and a body that made the sternest and stiffest of women blush like teenagers, Edward Cullen certainly deserved the title.

Edward Cullen had inherited an almost indecent sum of money from his late grandfather, and founded Cullen International Corporation. His company grew with alarming speed, and soon it was internationally known. He took over telecommunications at the age of twenty-three, and his company grew even more. His company’s branches popped up out of nowhere overnight, and everywhere I went I saw Cullen International Corporation under everything. Edward Cullen had branched out to luxury apartments and hotels.

‘Cullen’ was practically a household name now.

And I was headed towards one of his main branches in New York, applying for a job. I knew I probably would start out really slow: maybe a sort of handy-woman, fetching things for other people of higher position, but I simply didn’t have a choice. Mum and Dad were telephoning me every few days, and asking me if I had gotten a job yet, or not. It was really annoying, and I usually made up some excuse before Mum started hyperventilating.

A job was still a job, after all.

--

I staggered inside the revolving doors, and promptly snagged the other end of my precious coat. Tugging it open, I stumbled in the lobby of the building of Cullen International Corporation (CIC) and was immediately greeted with a myriad of people swarming all over the place, mostly men with crisp, Giorgio Armani suits and women with stern buns resting at the nape of their necks.

I hurried over to the elevators, and tapped on a button. The elevator doors slid open with a ‘ping!’ and I stepped in, squeezing through a horde of people, most of them screaming into their cell phones, hands holding briefcases. I looked down at my own hands, which were crammed with a large variety of things: a green, official looking folio, a chocolate bar I was saving for later and my car keys.

I waited impatiently as the elevator glided upwards, to the top-most floor.

I needed this job. I shuffled my interview papers nervously, and thought of the resumé I had prepared. I shuffled around guiltily when I thought of a tiny section I might’ve exaggerated a little. Well, who would know that I didn’t exactly speak five different languages? I figured an internationally acclaimed company might need some bilingual people, anyway.

The job I was applying for didn’t exactly need me to be bilingual but still…

My meeting with Cullen’s assistant was scheduled for eight-thirty, and it was nearing eight-forty-five now. I tapped my foot, and waited as more and more people filtered out, leaving me alone in the elevator.

The doors slid open again, and I rushed out.

The thirtieth floor was decorated elegantly, with a beige, carpeted floor and large windows on each wall. A hallway led to a large, silvery desk at the very end of it, and I hurried over, hair flying. Strangely enough, the desk was completely devoid of anyone. Behind the desk was a set of enormous double doors, and on them hung a golden plaque, bearing the words Mr. Edward Cullen. I sighed, hoping the meeting wasn’t cancelled, and sat down at the desk, waiting for someone to come out.

Edward

Today really wasn’t one of my best days.

‘What do you mean, you quit?’ I demanded into the phone, and my fingers clenched around a fountain pen. My desk was crammed with various documents, and I felt fed up of all of them. Off all days, that blasted Jessica just had to resign as my personal assistant today… those PR people from Slovakia were coming in today, and none of those contracts were here.

‘Never mind, don’t quit! You’re fired!’ I yelled rather dementedly into the phone, and slammed it back on its cradle. Groaning loudly, I buried my head into my hands and hit my head repeatedly on the table.

There was still Yvonne, my junior assistant, but of course, I only hired her for rather… ah, ‘personal’ affairs. Someone knocked politely on my office doors, and I called out wearily, ‘Come in!’

Yvonne sauntered in, wearing spiky red heels and her hair piled up high. Her white blouse seemed extra low cut today and even in my frustrated state I still appreciated this little gesture. She strode in and settled herself on the edge of my cluttered desk, red lips smiling. ‘The Slovakians are here, Mr. Cullen.’ she purred, and rolled up her sleeves higher.

I groaned more, and hurriedly stood up, shrugging on my suit. ‘Tell them I’ll be down in a moment.’

‘Oh, and there’s this girl outside that says she has an interview with Jessica.’ she pouted, and leaned forward, doe-eyed.

Blast that Jessica.

I brightened up. ‘Hire her as my junior assistant. Yvonne, you’re promoted.’ I told her, straightened my giggled. ‘Tell her to report for work tomorrow morning, and she’d better not come late.’

Yvonne nodded, and walked out of the room, behind swaying slightly. I stood there for a moment, enjoying the ‘view’ and snapped out of my reverie.

Damn Slovakians.

Bella

Ooh, look, pure silver.

I picked up a fountain pen, and admired it closely. The words ‘Cullen International Corporation’ was emblazoned in gold, and it looked very fancy indeed. I looked right and left, I slowly snuck in in my handbag, feeling rather guilty. Oh well, since no one was looking. And it wasn’t like they needed pens.

Continuing my humming, I looked around idly, feeling increasingly bored. She itched to open those huge double doors, but something told her not to. Besides, she could hear rather loud yells from inside.

Ping!

Jumping up, I hurriedly rearranged my resumé and tried to look presentable. My hair was a lost case but…

A stunning girl with her blonde hair in a high bun walked along the hallway, and she looked as though she belonged in a whore-house rather than an office building. She appeared to have forgotten to button the top three buttons of her blouse, and she now showed off a generous share of cleavage. Her heels clacked against the floor, and I hurriedly walked out from behind the desk, fearing that it may be hers.

‘Miss!’ I called out, ecstatic at finally getting a job.

She shot me an irritated look, one that clearly said: ‘who-the-hell-is-this-and-why-should-I-even-bother’. ‘I’m here for my interview!’ I told her, and presented my resumé rather proudly. She looked at the piece of paper as though it was a rag dipped in rancid manure. She pinched the very edge of the paper with red fingernails. ‘I’ll be sure to look at it.’ she said sarcastically.

I smiled forcedly, and watched as she opened those doors and walked in.

Bitch.

Three guesses why Edward Cullen had hired her.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the desk again, feeling very nervous. This could be the changing point of my life. No more living in an apartment with Alice again! I still owed her last month’s rent…

I drifted off dreamily and was shaken out of my daydream when that bitch came striding out again, but this time a very frazzled looking man looking devilishly handsome in a gray suit strode purposefully out, tugging on his tie.

Edward Cullen.

I had to admit somewhat grudgingly, those pictures in newspaper articles of him did him no justice. Even with a frown on his face, he still looked gorgeous. His hair looked silky smooth to the touch, and even the way he walked seemed impossibly graceful, his movements never faltering.

He didn’t even glance at me.

For some reason, I felt rather disappointed.

The ‘assistant’ walked over, and slapped my resumé down in front of me. ‘Report tomorrow to Mr. Edward Cullen’s office, eight o’ clock sharp. You are now his new junior assistant, and you will be informed off your duties tomorrow by me. Wear something more… suitable.’ she looked contemptuously at my own clumsily thrown together outfit, consisting of a crazy, patchwork sweater Alice had knitted when she went through her knitting phase, and frayed jeans.

I nodded, shell-shocked.

She walked away, and disappeared down the elevator, hair swaying enticingly.

Junior assistant?!

Boy, these people sure liked bilingual people.