His Personal Assistant

Chapter 18

BPOV.

I always knew when I wasn't sleeping in my own bedroom.

It was the change in sounds, whether it be too little noise or too much.

It was the amount of light, whether it is too bright or too dark.

It was the smell, the distinct lack of my own scent, or the distinct presence of someone else's.

It was the feel of a foreign bed underneath me, the indentations, the dips and rises of someone else's mattress. The feel of someone else's sheets.

I was never able to fall asleep quickly in a bed that wasn't my own, and usually tossed and turned when I did manage it.

None of those things were a problem in Edward's bed. And I knew it was his bedroom, and not a guestroom.

The apartment was high enough that the sounds from the street were non-existent, but there was the gentle sway of wind outside, keeping the room from feeling oppressive.

There were heavy curtains over the windows, but they weren't closed all the way, leaving enough light for me to make out distinct shapes. The entire room smelled of soap,

and aftershave, and just, him. The mattress and sheets were incredibly expensive, judging by how warm and comfortable they made me feel.

Actually, I had never been more comfortable in my entire life. I had fallen asleep very quickly last night, through what was nothing short of sheer emotional fucking exhaustion. I

had also tossed and turned, not because I was uncomfortable, but because the smell of Edward had been assaulting me. I think there was something in that thing about how a

person's scent is the basis of attraction.

When I glanced over at the glowing clock on the bedside table, I saw that it was only a quarter past five in the morning. My graphic dreams had woken me up, leaving me

sweaty, aching and frustrated in my crumpled blue dress. The crying from last night made my throat feel constricted, and my eyes were puffy and no doubt red rimmed.

I was a mess, and that wasn't even considering my emotional state.

Why couldn't Edward have just explained everything to me last night?

Was he that much of a coward?

The Edward Cullen I'd first seen had been a business mogul, calm in the face of angry competitors, dealing with billions of dollars without batting an eye. He was like one of the

Mad Men.

The Edward Cullen I saw last night had flinched under my gaze, held onto me as if afraid I might disappear, and had refused to just defend his own ass. I remember hysterically

telling him I hated him, that all this emotional crap had been his fault, and all he had done was timidly agree with me.

More important then that; was I really going to go interstate with him? I knew he had grown up in Forks and that that was still the location of the Cullen family home. I just

couldn't understand how there would be anything to explain himself there that couldn't be found here.

Though Edward hadn't wanted me to go to my place, and had pretty much ordered me to come with him, I knew if I kicked up enough of a fuss he would never force me to

do anything. The safe thing to do would be to bow out now, before he had a chance to break my heart further. The old Bella, the Bella who would never had believed she