Aylah50 - Candy Hearts and Red Roses.pdf - Rebecca Grace Allen

268 Pages·2012·0.61 MB·English

Copyright Page
This book was automatically created by FLAG on April 19th, 2012, based on
content retrieved from http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6743846/.
The content in this book is copyrighted by Aylah50 or their authorised
agent(s). All rights are reserved except where explicitly stated otherwise.
This story was first published on February 14th, 2011, and was last updated on
September 2nd, 2011.
Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated - please email any bugs, problems,
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Table of Contents
Summary
1. Chapter 1: Valentine's Day
2. Chapter 2: The Morning After
3. Chapter 3: Secrets Really Suck
4. Chapter 4: Playing Our Parts
5. Chapter 5: Masquerade
6. Chapter 6: Veritas
7. Chapter 7: Bad Timing
8. Chapter 8: Face the Music
9. Chapter 9: Star Crossed Lovers
10. Chapter 10: Gotta Have Faith
11. Chapter 11: Candy Hearts & Red Roses
- 3 -
Summary
Editorial Assistant Bella Swan has been pining after her boss, Edward Cullen, for
years. Will she have a chance with destiny on Valentine's Day? Or will her hopes all
come crashing down?
- 4 -
Chapter 1: Valentine's Day
Valentine hugs and kisses to my beta and pre-reader, Kyla713 and
Awesomesauce76! Thanks also to Breathotwilight, for including me in
another fabulous countdown. Big squishy hugs to Heatherdawn for the
banner for this fic, and to AmberDK for creating the polyvore outfits.
** This was originally just a one shot, hence the extremely lengthy first
chapter, but is now being expanded into a longer story!
Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer.
"Flower delivery for Ms. Hale," our receptionist's voice blared through the
intercom at my cubicle.
"Another one?" Angela asked, leaning back in her chair and looking over at me in
disbelief.
I stared at the phone, wishing I could have punched the stupid thing. This was the
fourth delivery this week for our Life and Style Director, Rosalie Hale. It was only
Tuesday, and Valentine's Day was still three days away.
"You want me to grab this one?" my other co-worker, Jake, asked. He didn't mind
picking up things for Rosalie; for him, it was just another way to kiss her ass.
"No, I'll do it," I huffed, pushing back in my chair. As I marched to the front desk, I
cursed myself once again on my inability to leave my stupid job.
I'd moved out to New York City two years before with a degree from Medill at
Northwestern University. My plan was to become a serious journalist. I wanted to
work for an intelligent magazine, like The New Yorker or Vanity Fair, and hopefully,
someday become a Literary Editor or Research Director.
When I'd gotten hired as an Editorial Assistant at The Guard, I'd been ecstatic.
The magazine covered everything from politics, to business, culture, and society.
While it still had the necessary focus on style and celebrities, the features and
columns were well written. Even though the job was low on the totem pole, it was
still a foot in the door and I was beyond excited to start.
- 5 -
I had hoped to be involved in the editing and proofing process, helping to decide
on content, maybe even passing on important ideas up to higher-ranking staff
members. Instead, more often than not, I'd ended up making copies, filing, and
arranging Ms. Hale's beauty appointments.
Jake and Angela were my fellow assistants, and we'd become close friends.
Together, we did just about anything and everything that all the editors wanted.
This week, it was collecting Rosalie's Valentine gifts from reception.
"Here you go, Bella," said Betty Cope, our receptionist, as she nodded toward a
massive bouquet of flowers in a glass vase waiting on the hutch of her desk. I
couldn't help but sigh as I saw them: they were exquisite, as were all the others he'd
already sent. This one, however, was a perfect arrangement of long-stemmed, pale
pink roses.
I'd never gotten roses for Valentine's Day in my entire life.
"That Mr. McCarty is a real keeper! He can't help but spoil Ms. Hale rotten, can
he?" Betty asked, smiling.
I tried to hide my grimace as I lifted the immensely heavy glass. "Yup," I
sputtered, the leaves on the stems hitting me in the face. "She sure is a lucky one."
Rosalie was dating New York Giants superstar Emmett McCarty. He was filthy
rich, completely handsome, and spoiled her rotten. They'd met at the Sundance Film
Festival in January, and ever since then, he'd been showering her with gifts and
expensive nights out. Since the approach of Valentine's Day, it had gotten even
worse, with daily deliveries for her, sometimes more than one.
I really didn't mean to seem jealous; from what I'd seen of Mr. McCarty the few
times he'd come by the office, he really was a great guy. Even though he was a huge
football player, he was kind of like a giant teddy bear, and it was obvious that he
was completely in love with Rosalie, even though they'd only known each other a
few weeks. The way he looked at her made my heart ache a little; I was desperate
for someone to look at me that way.
Unfortunately, that someone never would.
It was the words of that someone that had incited me to apply to work at The
Guard; his Editor's note was brilliant, cultured, and scholarly. He was the reason I'd
stayed in this ridiculous job, passing up opportunities to transfer to other magazines
where the assistants had more responsibilities and room for growth.
- 6 -
He was Edward Cullen, Editor in Chief of The Guard. He was publishing royalty;
his father, Carlisle Cullen, was the C.E.O. of the entire publishing house. Edward
was incredibly intelligent, well-spoken and friendly, polished, refined, professional;
everything I wanted in a man. He also was possibly the most gorgeous creature I'd
ever seen in real life.
And he was, without a doubt, completely out of my league.
I'd had no idea when I applied to work there that an inhumanly beautiful man
wrote the words I'd fallen in love with every month. When I'd first read it, I'd
assumed that the head of the magazine was someone much older. But when I'd
discovered during my first interview that he was actually a twenty-seven year old
Harvard graduate, with sexy tousled hair and the most incredible eyelashes I'd ever
seen on a man, I'd nearly fallen off my chair.
And there I was, nearly a year and a half later, doing the most menial tasks
imaginable because I had developed the most ridiculously pathetic crush on Edward
Cullen, and didn't want to work anywhere else.
Carefully walking back down the hallway, I gripped the vase tightly with both
hands and tried not to run into anyone. I had a horrible reputation of tripping over
my own feet at the office, and really didn't want to end up ass down in a pile of roses
and thorns.
Turning the corner into the doorway to Rosalie's office, I paused, listening to see if
she was on the phone or in a meeting.
"Yes, that will be perfect!" I heard her say. Inching my way forward into the office,
I pushed the door open with my elbow and held the flowers precariously in my
hands.
I was barely able to see through the spray of baby's breath in front of my face, but
observed that she was perched daintily in her luxurious black office chair, her phone
held in one hand. The other was held out for her manicurist, who was carefully
applying a coat of pale pink polish.
Rosalie Hale was truly one of the most beautiful women in the publishing
business, if not in the entire city. Her skin was tanned to a warm glow even in the
depths of winter, her hair had the perfect balance of silkiness and volume. Rosalie's
clothes were impeccable: always couture, the height of fashion. Her hazel eyes were
always shaded with perfectly applied makeup, and she had a figure I would kill for.
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I felt like a troll just standing in the same room as her. I was dressed, as I always
was at work, in my business-casual skirt and blouse. I glanced down at my pale skin,
my dark brown hair that would never behave no matter how much I tried to style it.
I always wanted to look sexy, but didn't have the fashion sense or guts to wear what
was on the runways.
"Okay, see you then!" Rosalie blew fake kisses into the phone before hanging up,
and I rolled my eyes, glad that my face was hidden.
"Make sure you put the fast-dry coat on," Rose ordered her manicurist. "I don't
want to mess them up when I go lunch."
I knew from having to manage Rosalie's schedule that she was speaking of a
luncheon celebrating a new exhibit launching at The Museum of Modern Art. As the
Life and Style Director, she was always going to publicity events like that, but
preferred the parties and club openings where she could be photographed with
celebrities and fashion icons. If she didn't leave soon, she was going to be late, so I
cleared my throat, announcing my presence.
"Are those for me?" Rosalie squealed.
Well, maybe not my presence, but certainly the monstrosity I was carrying.
"Yes, Ms. Hale. Another delivery from Mr. McCarty," I reported quickly, her face
barely visible to me through all the petals.
"Set it on my desk, will you, Bella?" she asked, blowing on her nails once her
manicurist had switched hands.
Taking a few tentative steps toward the desk, I lowered the vase, only to be at a
total loss as to where to place this delivery. The entire surface was covered with
bowls of peonies and tulips, surrounded by tiny votive candles, as well as mini
bottles of champagne and perfume.
"Um…where?" I inquired blankly.
"Oh, just find a spot somewhere," she replied in a bored tone of voice, studying
her fingers. I held in my sigh and scanned her desk, searching for a way to fit yet
another floral arrangement.
Tasks like this were one of the reasons I hated my job. Jake and Angela had been
on the staff before I'd arrived; the third assistant spot had opened when their
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previous coworker got promoted. The two of them had gently dashed my hopes on
day one; explaining how the Editorial Assistants at The Guard tended to the needs of
all the editors, save for the ones that had their own personal assistants.
"Ms. Hale?" a voice from behind me chirped.
Speak of the kitten-heeled devil.
Jessica Stanley, Edward's assistant, was standing in the doorway to Rosalie's
office. She was a snotty bitch who paraded around the office with Lauren Mallory,
Assistant to the Managing Editor, Jasper Whitlock. The two of them, as well as the
other assistants, treated Jake, Angela and me like crap, occasionally handing us the
work they didn't have time for. But that wasn't the reason I hated Jessica.
"Mr. Cullen is ready to go to the opening. He asked that you meet him at his office
in five minutes," Jessica announced.
That was why I hated her.
As the Editor in Chief's Assistant, Jessica was privy to every single thing Edward
did, and gloated about it endlessly. I was pretty sure she wanted to sleep with him,
but just in an attempt to worm her way into a better job. She was too shallow to
really care for Edward. Not like I did.
Never gonna happen, I reminded myself, and resumed my task of finding an
uncovered spot for the bouquet, which was quickly becoming heavier in my arms by
the minute.
"Ugh, are they dry yet, Maria?" Rosalie whined to her manicurist. "Jessica, tell Mr.
Cullen I'll be right there."
"Yes, Ms. Hale." Jessica scampered off, not acknowledging me at all, as usual.
"Okay, I've got to run!" Rosalie jumped up quickly, practically knocking me over,
and I backed out of her way, nearly dropping the stupid glass on the floor. Finally
finding a spot for them, I listened to Rosalie rattle off some tasks for me to do while
she was out of the office.
Once she'd finally slid into her coat, she dashed out into the hallway. I peeked
around the corner of her door, watching her run toward Edward's corner office in a
fabulous pair of Christian Loboutins.
- 9 -
How does she run in those? I wondered. I can barely walk in my flats without
falling down.
Chewing my lip, I gazed down at my comfortable, boring shoes; I'd never worn
anything sexy to work, not even once. I didn't think it was appropriate, and I
shuddered to think what an embarrassment I could make of myself in heels.
I made my way back to the area where my desk was, in the center of the office
where all the editors could bark instructions at us. Slowly sinking into my chair, I
watched as Rosalie and Edward stepped out of his office, discussing something. My
heart spasmed in my chest, as it always did whenever I laid eyes on him.
Today, Edward was wearing a black button down with matching pants, the only
splash of color being a green and blue tie that picked up the glittering hue of his
eyes. He'd let the beginnings of a beard grow in, and a soft layer of stubble was
accentuating his chiseled jaw. My fingers twitched as I imagined what it might feel
like to touch his skin.
As he and Rose passed by us, Edward glanced in our direction and I gasped softly,
feeling the shockwave at meeting his eyes start in my stomach and ricochet down
between my legs. I crossed them quickly, attempting to squeeze away the lustful
ache that had become my constant companion. Once they were out of sight, I buried
my face in my hands.
"Ohh, poor Bella!" Angela cooed, reaching out to rub my head affectionately. "So
hopeless."
"Don't remind me," I groaned.
"Rosalie's shoes are incredible," Jake murmured, causing me to lift my head and
stare at him. He gazed back at me, smiling. "What? They are!"
I laughed and Angela just shook her head. Jake was very much out of the closet,
and simply loved working for Rosalie. He said he always got the best fashion tips
from her.
"He looked so….just…unf!" I cried softly, turning to look at Angela, who simply
smiled and shrugged. She was dating an I.T. guy named Ben who worked downtown,
and pitied me for my hopeless crush on our boss.
"Never gonna happen," Jake teased in a high-pitched voice, echoing my thoughts
from before.
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