Title: President Evil
Summary: "Let's get her get stuck with an ultimately WICKED, SADISTIC and PROCRASTNATING boss." And the Gods all connived to send Edward FREAKING Masen in my life.
Notes: I know the plot's quite common, but you know, the title's bugging me. I hope the story's better than the summary sounds.
Disclaimers: Lucky Stephanie.
Suck it up. Just suck it up. Stop thinking of tearing all his crappy bronze hair. Stop the delusions of him on his knees crying blood. Stop hoping that his pale, flawless skin will soon, soon, be covered with festering boils from the bubonic plague. And yeah, his eyeballs won't ever bulge out even if you glare fireballs at him for hours. Just suck the fuck up.
Oh yeah, I'm sure that's what you're -hic- itching to tell me, right? Of course. But you know, you're just a little ignorant idiot. You can't know what I'm feeling right now. I swear to all cat's poo that I feel a thousand times -hic- more livid than I look like. Sure, sure, I look sweet. SUH-WEEET. I'm smiling. I am.
But you know what, a killer could kill wearing a smile. So back off, okay?
After all, I'm just DRUNK.
But believe -hic- me. You must be wondering why I feel this way. Why I think this way. How could a little clumsy, reckless and meek girl like me hate a guy so much?
You're guessing wrong. Don't try. I'll tell you.
Ex-boyfriend who dumped me because of a whorish, sexy slut? No. Jealous because some random hot chick suddenly hit on him? Nah. Just embarrassed me in front of my friends? Robbed me of my job? Nuh-uh. Raped me? Murdered my family?
I told you not to guess. And you're still -hic- guessing.
Okay, so he's not a family member. Not an enemy. Not a rival. Not a past lover.
He's my boss.
He's my boss.
He's my FREAKING boss!
Yes, he's a superior figure. A cold commandant. A random somebody who is in an obviously higher rank than I am, so I can't spank him, I can't rub his face on my stinking stockings, maybe cut a little bit of the man he is…
Okay. But I really know that won't change the fact that I'm under him.
And neither will it lessen his galling, inconceivable ego.
You see, I'm a decent girl. I came from a middle-class family. My dad's a cop, and he's really doing well. My mom's a teacher, and though she and dad once divorced, they remarried after a while. Then we moved here in New York when I graduated. I finished my course, accounting. Frigging accounting. A regal job. (Okay, that may be an exaggeration, but still??)
But suddenly, the Gods all went up against me. You heard it right. All of them. It was as if they suddenly had a secret meeting or what, then they produced the nightmare I never wished I had.
"Give her uncountable pimples, like she stayed in her teens FOREVER." One suggested.
"No, just give her a bad case of arthritis whenever she goes on a date." The other added.
"Why don't we just cripple her?"
Then suddenly, one of them looked at everyone else, eyes glinting in extreme, pure iniquity. From that look one could say something sure is boiling up.
And it is.
"No, I have the best idea." He insisted. "We don't even need to do anything to her. We'll just have to mess with her path in her supposed to be wonderful life. Instead of being able to work Japan, where she really dreamed of working in since forever, let's make her agency a fraud one. Let's make it seem like she's connived with them. Then let's get her get stuck with an ultimately WICKED, SADISTIC and PROCRASTNATING boss."
It's okay, really. I could take it. I could swallow it, if I really tried my hardest. The whole point is, I don't want to.
My first week here was bad. Really bad. I thought I had everything faultless. My clothes, ironed to aptness. My shoes elegant and shiny. My stance was definitely respectable. Everything was perfect.
Until I met him.
The one who interviewed and hired me led me to his office. I would be his secretary. Me, Isabella Marie Swan, will be the new secretary of the president and owner of the company, Mr. Edward Anthony Masen.
So I knocked on his maple and varnished door, with the engraved words on the golden plate 'Edward Masen' and below was written 'President'.
After three knocks, a voice came from inside. It surprised me. It was icy, imposing and dominant, with a touch of confidence of course. I expected that.
But what I didn't expect was the husk there, the bewildering youth, and the manly tone.
Charming voice, huh.
And I slowly turned the knob. A vast office came into my view. Wide indeed, with a genteel table at the farthest center, a glass panel larger than me by five times behind it. There were picture frames everywhere, all containing works of art. A bookshelf was also stationed at one corner, along with a laptop and a neat stack of papers.
Yet strangely enough, there were things I expected to be in that spacious room which weren't there. Like a flat screen television on the wall. Or a coffee table. A Frigidaire too, maybe…then add on a big couch.
Instead there was only one comfortable seat, behind the table, its back on me.
And from there was poking out bronze strands which were tousled quite artistically to say so.
I coughed once to let my presence be acknowledged, thinking I was being rude to just observe my new boss's office instead of doing my first assignments.
The swivel, plush chair didn't turn.
"Good morning, Mr. Masen."
There was a single second as a pause.
"Good morning. I believe you're Isabella Swan?"
I was astonished at how he recognized me without looking.
"No, Miss Swan. I am not your stalker. I expect you to be coming. Mr. Anderson told me so about a couple of minutes ago. Why stand there?"
I sensed no arrogance in his words.
Then he faced me.
I almost gasped aloud. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be.
God, his face was absolutely not the face I imagined him to have. I imagined crumpled and old. Authoritative…and if I was bold enough maybe I'd even note a little bit perversion. Or even when young, maybe average-looking, with cross features.
But not this one.
Aside from the beautiful bronze hair I caught glimpse earlier, he also had shimmering and knowing green eyes. His nose had a perfect arch, not too high nor too low. His pale skin against the sunlight was graceful, even though I didn't know how that can be.
And God, the lips. Striking at their perfect shape and shade.
But I recovered in a second. I came here for a job. And I knew where I am. I'm not a boy addict either.
"What shall I do, Mr. Masen?"
Even I was surprised at the calm in my voice.
And for a second, I thought I saw a shocked expression at his face too. Yet when I blinked, it was gone.
"Go to your designated area. I believe my employee had already oriented you. You know all the protocols. And do this for me."
I took hesitant steps toward him and took the folder of documents he dropped on the table.
But not everything went smooth. In fact, almost everything went WRONG. On my very first task, which I had done to the best of my abilities, but my boss immediately sent me to his office not ten minutes after I was done.
"Ms. Swan, I do hope you know your job."
With trepidation, I nodded. I don't think I've done anything wrong.
"You have not applied to be the secretary of a janitor. You. Are. The. Secretary. Of. The. President. Of this company."
Every word was heavily layered with silent command that I cannot dare say anything to defend myself. I was petrified by the simple thought of how his face would look like if I told him a docile; 'Um, this is, kind of, my first job?'
"Now edit this. I want it in ten minutes. No more than that."
That was the beginning of my own personal hell. Every single day, my boss saw something wrong about me. A wrong comma here, a misspelled word, a missing date, inappropriate clothing.
Of course I minded, but none of my officemates seems to feel the same way. Everyday, they sighed and smiled at the sight of Edward friggin' Masen. I could tell from their looks that they were indefinitely jealous of my position.
Oh yeah, I get to see the wonderful, remarkable and gorgeous president everyday. I work for him, make his coffee, enter his office.
And oh God, I get humiliated by him everyday.
But I could stand it. I'm the patient type, and as long as he pays me I'd do my best. And people were quite cool too. Angela Weber, a timid receptionist, invites me for dinner at her house. Jessica Stanley, the supervisor, also joins in and sometimes pulls me into random bars at Friday nights. Mike Newton, the sales manager, was somehow irritating however. He was helpful and smart, but I'm not blind. I know he likes me so much. But I don't like him. I want something else, I just don't know what…
The president was still as indifferent and brutal as ever as the days went by. He walked to his office and out of it. He'd eat and sign papers. Nothing else. The only social life he ever had was with the general manager, Emmett Cullen.
And that assistant of him was really squeezing the blood out of me. He's quite handsome too, and quite popular, but I didn't feel comfortable around him. He was as big as a cow, with thick bands of muscles. Also, he always looked at me weirdly like I came from another planet, and I think I see him chuckling at me behind my back.
But then there came one magical day. A day which I truly believed to be delightful.
I was innocently sitting on my desk, finishing the work Mr. Masen gave me, when I set my eyes on him.
There was he, not thirty feet away from me, with wonderful blonde hair. His eyes were intense and shimmering blue. He had a sexy stance, quite lanky, but still. His body was of average built, and those sleek muscles on his arms…
I knew then that I had just met the guy of my dreams.
I all the more liked him as I got to know him. He always reappeared at Mr. Masen's office, briefcase in his grasp, and politely asks me if it's okay to enter. And holy crow, he always greets me a good morning, or afternoon. He even compliments me sometimes.
Not all women in the office notice him though. They were all busy rooting for the great president.
Not me. I want the warm, friendly type…like Jasper Whitlock.
Though I knew it was almost impossible, I still dared hope. Everyday, as I got to see him, I get to unravel more surfaces of him. He's the son of a business tycoon which is a friend of the Masens.
I watched out for him for the next two months. I knew then that it was not a simple crush. I loved him. I loved his smiles, his laugh, his intellect, his unexplainable charm…and even with flaws. I'd take him.
One Saturday, I was in full smiles. It was the day Jasper would come to sign an agreement with the president, and I looked forward to that. 'This is the day' I told myself. I'd ask him to hang out sometime. Even though I'm a mere secretary, I knew he'll be a gentleman if ever he found me to be uninteresting and unfitting of his social rank.
But he didn't come. I waited the whole morning…and he's supposed to see my boss as nine o'clock, but he's not there. By lunch break I had become too sullen that even Mike noticed, despite his babbles about some 'very interesting clubs'.
And Edward passed by us. I wasn't sure of what I saw, but at the corner of my eye, I thought he actually stared at us from afar. But when I'd finally had the courage to look, he was gone.
Afternoon boozed by. When I heard light footsteps towards the separated wing of my boss's office, I looked up, hope alight in my eyes.
But instead of the graceful lithe figure of the man I wanted to see so much, I saw a petite, gazelle-like woman in her early-twenties. Extremely good-looking with jet black hair, pale skin, small nose, immaculate amethyst eyes and slender lips.
But she was bizarre. Her face and eyes were puffy. She immediately said that she has an appointment and entered.
'Must be his girlfriend or something.' I shrugged off. But somehow, a stinging blow hit my chest. I passed it off as hurt because of Jasper's absence.
After an hour the woman left.
I cried, seeing that there is no hope left for me that day. It was irrational, but love was irrational.
It was five o'clock and I was about to go home after dully packing my shoulder bag. Suddenly, Edward stormed out of his office, a thing he never did. Despite all problems that come on his way, I never saw him behave like that. Much to my astonishment, he went straight to my table.
"Do you think I can show these presentations of yours on the board meeting tomorrow?!" he snapped at me. I was taken aback, unable to recover. The Mr. Masen never shouted. He only spoke with silent anger before.
"I want this done. Tonight."
If it was any other night I would protest. But I was extremely exasperated because of crying. I had no energy left anyway. So I just sat there and dumbly picked the diskette. And peculiarly, my boss stayed standing there for a full minute. I cannot look up at him, afraid he'd see that I was crying and he'd surely berate me for 'not looking professional' for clients.
He left silently as I started re-typing, sure I will do the job.
The days went on and Jasper Whitlock never came back. But the female did, and everytime I'd feel that little tinge.
Why did I feel that way?
I didn't care enough to try figure out.
I came to office, planning to do the same things I'd done for the past three months. I stalked to the coffeemaker lamely and made Mr. Masen's morning coffee. I sauntered to his door. I was about to knock when I heard loud laughter.
It was Emmett Cullen's rowdy, yet stunning voice.
I don't know what came over me. I wasn't much of an eavesdropper either. But I pressed my ear to the door and listened.
"Why are we even talking about them?" I immediately stopped the urge to groan out loud. "Let's talk about you."
Though I can't see, I could feel the smile on the manager's voice.
"What about me?" Did I just imagine the apprehension in his tone?
Then there was silence.
"Quit it, Emmett. I have nothing to do with her. She doesn't care about me."
"Yeah, sure she doesn't. You haven't even asked. Your pride's just hurt because she doesn't come up to you begging--"
His tension was quite apparent then, strained with frustration.
"Okay." Emmett sighed. "Okay. But man, this is just brotherly advice you know? Maybe not everyone's just gonna come down to their knees in front of you. Maybe you should try to be the one persuading other people."
I cannot exactly understand what they were talking about, but somehow, I felt a swelling in my heart. I felt then that I was able to understand my boss's nature, though I never particularly liked him.
"Let's get back to the original subject, Em."
"So…Whitlock's not coming back?"
My eyes widened and an excruciating clench ached on my heart. I knew I should've expected this, but somehow it still hurt.
There was no response from Edward.
And another round of laughter came.
"I just knew it." He rambled. I heard footsteps. He must be rounding the room. "I've told you earlier."
What did he mean? Why would Jasper go away? And he knew it earlier?
Still no answer from my boss. But I'm sure he's the one there. He always comes before I do.
"Why didn't you just slip away from the very beginning, Edward? Why try to interact with that bastard? You knew all along."
The voice was serious then. But I felt a round of anger. He's calling Jasper a bastard?
"I can't." Finally. The familiar husky voice. "Emmett, you know about him and Alice. If I told her, it'd devastate her. Jasper's her fiancée."
Fiancée? Jasper? Alice? The one always visiting? It can't be! She's my superior's fiancée!
"And because of that, you kept his secret from her?" Mr. Cullen sighed. "Alice would even be more hurt. This is hardly fair for her."
What is that secret?
The stretched pause fumed the fuel of my frustration and desolation. I knew I shouldn't do this. It would just hurt more once I understand why Jasper Whitlock is not coming back. Maybe I won't get to see him again. Maybe it was better to dream and hope forever.
Will that be the right way though?
"So what am I going to tell her?" I could hear a fist bang on the table. "Hello, Alice. Do you know that, well, your fiancée doesn't really love you? That he's just using you for show? That Jasper Whitlock doesn't even like anybody from your race? That your boyfriend actually said he loves ME??!"
And that was it. I fell on my knees in front of the door with a soft thud, but my arm had hit the door.
They already know. They know that there was someone outside. And they will check. And they'd catch me here. But I don't care.
'That your boyfriend actually said he loves ME??!'
My whole world collapsed.
So there was really no fight from the start.
Because Jasper Whitlock, the object of my obsessions, is not interested in any of my species at all.
And he wants my boss.
Yes, Edward Masen is INDEED the personification of a demon in personal hell.
I didn't look up at him, though I knew if I had any remaining energy I would blush. I didn't care whether I was there, slumped and clueless, in front of the devil.
"Miss Swan." There was much composure in his voice then. "Please get back on your desk."
He sounded like nothing happened.
After a few seconds, I stood. There wasn't a coherent thought in my mind. Then I, with all the energy I had build up, ran.
I'm an idiot. It could cost me my job. But I ran.
Away from this place. Away from Edward Masen.
The doors automatically opened as the camera saw me running towards it. That helped. I don't think I could push a glass door right now. I'd simply collapse.
I had no idea where to go, so I headed to the nearest -hic- pub I saw, a pub Jess and I went to. I immediately recognized the bartender and asked for the alcoholic drink I recalled first.
I'd been here for the past handful hours or so, drinking, then crying.
So here I am, -hic- in this club, thinking about THE bastard.
I know. My freaking boss doesn't care about this. In fact, this isn't his fault, that Jasper liked him more than he liked ME, or anyone else female.
But who could -hic- I blame? Jasper? No, I can't turn this on him. So instead, I put this on my hell of a -hic- boss.
Suddenly, I hear the doors swing. I ignore it and take a swig of -hic- my beloved Vodka.
I jumped on my seat when I felt a warm hand grip my wrist before I could even put the rim on my mouth.
I turned to look at this intruder and what I saw astonished me.
I knew it. I bet he's going to tell me to get my -hic- damned ass back to my seat and get my things outta his company.
But instead he brings my shot glass down and drinks it himself. I pout. Arrogant -hic- bastard. Then he looks straight at me with restraining eyes.
"You're drunk. Stop it."
I shoved his -hic- hand away. "Who are you to tell me that?!"
"I am your boss, Ms. Swan."
"Not anymore!" I exclaimed stubbornly. Who -hic- cared if I sounded like a pathetic child?
I grabbed my shot glass to drink again, but he gripped both of my hands now.
"Stop it, Bella!"
I stopped. What did he just call me?
"Isabella Marie Swan." He stared into me with his piercing, emerald eyes. "Put that down and talk to me."
I looked back. I reminded myself that I hated him.
But well, didn't I just think -hic- that my hatred is not justified?
"What is it that we talk about?"
He shrugged. "I don't know." Then his face twisted. "You, your problem, or Newton?"
His sardonic tone made me laugh for what reason I don't -hic- know. "There's nothing wrong about me. The problem is you. How the hel did Mike Newton ever get into this?"
"What's wrong about me then?" he challenged me with his stare. He was still holding my wrists. "Tell me."
"You wanna know?" I -hic- shouted at his face. "Because Jasper's not coming back! And there's no hope here. Because he wants YOU!"
He didn't look surprised. There was guilt, and what? Anguish?
"Yes." He said hardly, firmly. "Yes, he's homosexual. He told me he never wanted to marry my sister. He told me it's just a way to get closer to me."
"Your sister?!" I gasped. "What sister?"
He looked at me. "Alice, of course."
"Alice is -hic- your sister?!"
"Yes, of course."
I processed that for a second. So all along, that little ballet gal wasn't Edward's girlfriend. It was Jasper's.
Hah. What -hic- do I have against her?
"Alice Masen." Then he added sarcastically. "Not that you would notice that. You were too busy waiting for your Jasper."
"I'm--" I stopped halfway. "Hey, how do YOU know I'm waiting for him?"
At that, I saw him freeze and pale for the first time. He was so white that he seemed to be a man splashed with milk all over.
"I…well, I could tell! I-I'm your boss! I could see it when you're getting even more dumb than usual…" he suddenly grinned, but not the sincere or happy way. The disgruntled and disgusted way. "How could you ever expect to win him over against my sister?"
Without thinking, I grabbed the shot glass nearest to my hand and poured all its contents over his head. He looked shell shocked and bewildered, and I -hic- almost laughed, except that tears were desperately fallin on my cheeks and no matter how much I wanted to just sink into the ground and die I just couldn't.
My feet -hic- went up on their own, and for the second time, I ran away from Edward Masen.
I had nowhere to go and no one to go home to. I don't want to bother mom and dad with this. It's their anniversary today and I won't be a sucker to spoil that. I tripped a lot of times--even more than usual because tears blurred my eyesight. I felt sobs blocking my throat but I didn't stop to just slump down and cry. If I did just that, it would be the end of this all. The truth would come down crashing to my entire being and surely someone would notice.
But I did get tired for a while, and I sat on a wooden bench on the open park. For what seemed like years I just sat there, silently letting the salty drops fall on their own.
I heard footsteps scraping on the fallen dried leaves and I looked up automatically. And there was it, the face I hated to see, even more so now. Aside from the pain and anger I felt, I also felt shame. Would this face, the face of my anguish and weakness, register in his mind?
I immediately stood up and turned my back on him, prepared to run again. But neither foot of mine had even made a step when his voice interrupted my plan.
"Aren't you going to say sorry?"
I paused and my breath hitched. The words lashed against me and I turned to him again.
A wide smirk crossed his face, but I noticed it wasn't confident or composed anymore. One side was lopsided and his stance wasn't straight at all. His eyes were hazy and his voice was wavering.
I almost slapped my own forehead in frustration. Why was he doing this to me?
"You ruined my hair." He ruffled his own hair like a child for emphasis. "And my shirt."
"I didn't ruin it." I snapped at him. "You did."
"Oh, did I?" he asked blearily.
"Oh, yes you did." I reminded him. "You pushed me too far."
"I said the truth."
I was just so close to punching him on the gut.
Well, yes, he was right. But why rub that in? Can't he see I was in grief?
He seemed to notice the change in my expression, for his smirk disappeared.
He just stood there, fifteen feet away from me.
"Why do you like him anyway?"
I was surprised by his question. I never expected it from him.
He doesn't care.
"Is it because he's plain gorgeous? Or is it because he can buy you a brand new sports car? Or maybe his charm. Yes, his indefinite, undeniable, fucking charm."
I was insulted by his nonchalant and sarcastic tone, but I remembered he was drunk.
"No." I said, looking down. Okay, to be honest, his face and charm attracted me in the first place. But that's not the point. "You know what it is?"
He had no answer.
"I could see that he is a good person, responsible and he's always there." I replied. "He doesn't think lowly of me, just a secretary. He is always smiling--friendly. That's why."
A high and throaty laugh came from him. I looked back up. His head was shot up. I could see his tousled hair, a little more messy this time, on top of his angular and pale face. Again, I could see how high his nose was, and how his lips' shape was perfect.
I noticed that once before. But this wasn't right now.
Because this time, there were feelings, fuzzy, unexplained feelings, which settled upon me.
He looked back down, staring straight into my eyes. His lips were back on the smirk but I could see the faint hint of some unreadable expression in his eyes.
"I am a good person." He said in a low, hoarse voice.
And he took one silent step towards me.
"I am responsible."
"I'm always there."
"I don't think lowly of secretaries."
I didn't care to observe his feet this time.
"I can always smile. I can be friendly."
By that time, we were already face to face, too close for comfort. He was looking down at me in his six feet splendor.
"I can be like Jasper."
I felt something distinct, inevitable and warm spread on my chest, to everywhere. But I ignored it.
I was angry with him. Even though it's not his fault, he was one of the reasons I lost Jasper.
"What the hell are you talking about? Why are you even talking about --"my heart clenched. "Jasper?" Why do you even fucking care?"
A small, almost unnoticeable smile came. A true, sweet smile that I haven't seen from him before. Not ever.
"Just forget it. Let's just forget it." He almost whispered. "It's time to pay for ruining my hair. And my thousand dollar shirt."
Without further warning, he bent down slowly and his lips, light and slightly agape, touched mine. I had enough time. If I wanted to turn away, I could. But for a reason I can't recognize, I just didn't. I froze in place, anticipation and heat spreading though my veins.
And I didn't utter one word of protest as he molded my mouth under his. I suddenly didn't care if he did anything he wanted with it. In fact, I didn't just didn't care. I liked it. I wanted it. I needed it. My lips were parched and without thinking I opened my lips to let him do anything more, to do what he wanted, if this wasn't enough.
I didn't want it to stop.
But he soon stopped, and taking one last gentle peck, he moved his face away from mine.
I could see the smile, divergent and prominent now.
I blinked at him. Once. Twice.
What did he just friggin' do?
What did I just friggin' do?
I couldn't know. What did I just do?
Yes. I eavesdropped on my boss' office, then I ran away. I was drunk and I told him that he wasn't my boss anymore. Then he followed me here, drunk himself, just after I recovered. Then we talked about Jasper. Then he approached me and kissed me.
This all happened on one day.
Questions were all but running in my head, and they were also flooded by emotions. Why didn't I ever notice that Jasper, my first and greatest dream guy, was a fag? Why didn't I ever notice the fact that Alice and Edward had the same surname? Why did Edward even follow me? And why was he drunk? And if…if I loved Jasper with the magnitude I always thought I had, then why did this feel okay? Why was Edward's kiss better than okay? Why was it spectacular, heartwarming, and just the greatest, sweetest thing I'd ever tasted in my entire life?
Yeah, you guessed it; I wanted to run away again.
But he won't let me. He was holding my arm. I tried to pry myself away, but somehow a big part of me didn't want to.
"You are really the most dense, dumbest secretary I ever had." He told me in a high vertigo voice. "But you know what; I think I really have that penchant for slow people."
Then he gave me a crooked smile I loved.
"She's the only girl who didn't just stare at me and swoon."
"She's supposed to be an accountant. Quite intelligent on her college days too."
"This work really deserves some credit. Not that she has to know."
"She eats too little. Crackers and coffee! That'd do nothing good to her…"
"He could just fall to the deepest pits of hell and die. If I could fire that bastard, I'd just kick him out. I'm sure I can find a better sales manager somewhere…"
"He calls her 'Bella'! Like he's special to her or something. She said yes to him, Em. I can't believe it. He's a moron! How could she even think of going out with him?"
"Oh, so it's a group date."
"She's too strange today. After my meeting with Jasper, I gave her a piece of work and she was dazed…smiling…"
"I think I'm beginning to see a pattern here, Em. Everytime Jasper drops by…she's so out of her mind. And the way she stares at him! It's like a great fan seeing her beloved idol pass her by…"
"This is out of hand."
"Crap, Em. I'm not jealous! It…It's just Alice. Jasper's her guy! Hell, I'm not jealous!"
"That damned fag just told me he wants me and not Alice. I hate him! He can't hurt my sister this way."
"She's been crying for the past three hours now, Emmett."
"She's lonely, I can see that. Ever since Jasper ceased coming here, she seemed to have lost a brother or what."
"Quit it, Emmett. I have nothing to do with her. She doesn't care about me."
A flash of grin crossed Emmett Cullen's features as he recalled the words his boss told him during their long conversations. Of course THE Great Edward Masen isn't in love with Bella Swan. Sure.
But he knew, he just knew that he'd be able to tell her someday.
A/N: It's long and boring but I really enjoyed writing it. Really. This is my longest oneshot ever. And there wasn't any point while I was writing this that I thought; 'Nah, I'm bored. I wanna just stop writing this.'
Please, please review.