The Colour of Love

Edward's POV

Black. The colour of power, elegance, mystery, aggression... and everything I was.

White. The colour of light, goodness, innocence, purity... and everything she was.

"They say opposites attract…"

Summary: She was White. I was Black. She was innocent and pure. I was her complement... cold and dark... and I'd have given her my heart, if I thought she wouldn't throw it back at me. 'If looks could kill... I didn't want to find out.' - Edward's POV of 'Red'

Inspiration: To Bella, Edward seems arrogant and over confident, but inside, he just doesn't have a clue how to tell her what he feels.

Chapter 1

Dreams

Monday, 8.30am

"Mr Cullen," she hissed towards me, her voice still soft despite the venom lingering behind it. Her shoes clicked seductively against the office tiles – black, high heeled shoes – ones that I'd imagined during far too many lonely nights.

That was, if shoes could click seductively. Regardless, she certainly looked seductive in them.

I tried to keep the smile off my face as I nodded once towards me.

Cullen, stop staring. My thoughts warned, and my eyes shot back to the papers as I struggled – yet again – to ignore her. But somehow, the part of my brain that never co-operated with me wanted to keep her in the room for a little longer.

"Miss Swan," the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. "I want your report on my desk by lunch time." As I waited for her brown eyes to turn back to mine, my heart thudded erratically beneath my chest.

"You're kidding, right?"

She still hadn't turned around.

"Lunch time, Miss Swan," I said again. Please turn around.

"Are you trying to kill me?" her question was bitter, but for once, I barely even noticed it. She'd turned around. She was looking at me. "Because if so, you are doing a bloody good job of it." Her brown eyes were beautiful.

Her glare intensified, almost as if she could hear me. I smirked at that thought. There was no harm in some teasing – subtle flirtation – as I'd started referring to it as. I leaned forward on my desk, trying to close the distance between us, even if it was only by a small margin.

"Do you have a problem with that deadline?"

"I have issues with a lot of things," she implied, locking her eyes with mine. The gesture was consuming. I could barely even hear her words. "You gave me that report just two days ago, and it's due in tomorrow evening. You've now moved the deadline to this morning, which is when I'm supposed to be attending an interview for the actual report." She paused to take a breath, her red lips forming a smooth oval shape. "Yes, I have a problem with that deadline!"

"I changed your interview." Thank God she didn't need a longer answer. Watching her eyes alight with anger, and her hands creating two tight fists as she stared across at me, her body tense and poised, my attention wasn't the most focused of things.

Especially when she licked her lips subconsciously after talking.

She took a deep breath and crossed her arms over her shirt. There were two buttons undone, leaving a rather nice view. All I had to do was look down a little...

"You changed my schedule?"

Look at her face Cullen. "That's what I'm trying to tell you."

"Without asking me?"

I smiled again towards her, my eyes moving over the tense line of her jaw to the hurt in her eyes. It wasn't obvious, and far too often she tried to hide it. But I knew what to expect. I knew her. "I'm telling you now. You have an interview in just over twenty minutes. After that, Michael wants to give you a speech on his report which you said you'd write for him. God knows why."

Michael fucking Newton. You're jealous. Again.

Crazy, jealous and for some stupid reason, in love. It sounded pathetic; to be in love with a woman who wouldn't even look at you twice. I'd spent a good two years trying to deny that fact, trying to tell myself that this fascination, this... fixation was merely lust. I thought it was because she was the one woman to say no.

But every day she walked out of that elevator, I found myself wishing different things. I didn't just want her body, I wanted her voice. I didn't want to see her, I wanted to feel her. I didn't just want to touch her, I wanted to reach out and hold her face. I wanted to run my fingers over those bright red lips.

I was like a young boy in kindergarten. One who didn't understand his own feelings. One who fought against them and in his own confusion, became angry at her for causing them. He would make her hate him.

The problem was that I did understand my own feelings. I just had a slight problem acting on them.

"You-"

I cut her off before she could finish. "And then you have, I'd say, around two hours to write, before the report is to be handed in, on my desk, at no later than 12 o'clock. Are we clear Miss Swan? Or is there something you don't quite approve of in your schedule?"

I shouldn't have said that.

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew I'd gone too far. It seemed to be a habit of mine. But I was at a loss – how to treat her, how to be around her, how to act just as work colleagues when all the while I was deeply, and inexplicably in love with her.

Her fingers unlocked from the fists they'd formed into, and her red lips tightened into a forced smile. She nodded once towards me – the gesture too formal and cold for my liking. She was hiding her anger. "The report will be on your desk at 11 o'clock, one hour earlier than you suggested. I'm then going to call the people in the interview and cancel because I have all the information I need, so meeting up is unnecessary. Then, I'm going to take that time to finish writing your report and Michael's." Her smile widened innocently, and my own fists clenched. Her eyes were raging with anger. "Is that alright Mr Cullen? Or is there something you don't quite approve of in my schedule?"

Before I could reply, she stormed into her office and slammed the door behind her.

All I did was re-arrange her schedule. And what does that say about yourself? Controlling? Arrogant?

I heard her throw her briefcase onto the desk, followed by the creak in the chair as she reclined back. I could picture the frustration in her eyes towards me.

She was angry at me. She hates you. But I love her.

Cullen, that's when you tell her. Stop acting like a conceited asshole who's too good for her. Be vulnerable. Be human.

You know something's wrong with you when you get called an asshole by your own conscience. But in all honesty, I deserved it. My conscience was right. The small part of my brain that had some clue about morals told me what I was doing was wrong – how I was treating her wasn't right.

I tried to stop. I tried to treat her like she was any woman; like she was just a colleague. When she'd first arrived, I could have been more welcoming. Maybe we could have been friends, and then, I'd have had my chance to ask her out... and where would we be now?

But Edward Cullen doesn't do that. He doesn't go through the whole charade of romance, seducing, charming, pretending that the cliché traditions mean anything.

I was willing to let the girl I loved slip through my fingertips for my pride. It was pathetic.

Edward Cullen didn't fall for women. Women fall for Edward Cullen. And yet, one insignificant person had the power to invade my thoughts, my dreams, everything I did... the fact they had that power was illogical.

I'd tried to get her to leave me alone. Maybe even persuade her to leave for good. I'd tried to act like a demeaning, controlling asshole that wanted nothing to do with her-

You didn't have to try that hard.

-and yet every morning she'd turn up. Her long, pale legs sitting in her black, high-heeled shoes that never stopped clicking. No matter what I did, she wouldn't leave.

I only wished I was better for her. Strong enough to put my arrogance behind me and go through the motions for her – but I didn't have a clue what to do. And that frightened me. I couldn't hold her hand whilst we walked down the pavement surrounded my moonlight. I couldn't hold her on the beach whilst we watched the waves roll in. I couldn't love her the way she needed to be loved.

The elevator rang, interrupting my thoughts as the doors opened slowly. A man I didn't recognise stepped into the office. Subconsciously, my eyes flickered towards Bella's door, but she hadn't come out to see who it was. Maybe she was distracted. The concentration she gave each report was more than I had ever expected.

The man walked towards my desk and handed me a garish yellow file. "I was wondering if you could give this to Isabella?"

Who calls her Isabella? They're on first name terms. Two different thought trains – it was only nine o'clock and already I had a headache.

"Of course."

"Tell her they're from Mike," he said, his own eyes glancing towards her door. At the gesture, I had to bite back a possessive growl that rose in my throat. Growl? Cullen...

She's not yours.

So this was Mike. The first thing I couldn't help but notice, was that he was the complete opposite of me. Bright blonde hair, blue eyes and baby-faced, like he hadn't yet grown into a man...

I managed to get rid of him fairly quickly before he tried to strike up a conversation with me. As soon as he'd left the office, I strode towards her door.

I knocked quickly, hearing a loud crash inside her office.

The sooner I got this over with, the better.

I opened the door to see her sprawled across the floor, her skirt far higher than she probably intended it to be. "Seats are for sitting on Miss Swan," I said, biting back my smile. I leant against the doorframe, getting a much better view from this angle.

"You surprised me," a warm, innocent blush spread across her cheeks as she stumbled back to her seat. The emotion splashed over her face was one of my favourites. Her naivety was attractive.

Unfortunately for me, lust took over love. "Well, I should surprise you more often. You don't understand how appallingly delicious your legs look when your skirt is hitched up high by your thighs."

She rolled her eyes, her face, for once, looking tired. "Get out of my office Mr Cullen."

"And I was just getting started," I smiled cheekily, my voice light as I walked towards her desk. She was glaring at me, even as I leaned in closer. "I came to give you these," I put the large yellow file in front of her. "They're from Michael Newton. Although I was under strict orders from him that you should know him as Mike." I winked at her. "His number's on the back of the file."

If looks could kill... I didn't want to find out as I quickly walked back out of her office.

I couldn't help but stand outside her door, waiting for her anger to slowly subside. It was easy to tell. She'd fall into her chair, or she'd sigh angrily, before finally scribbling down some ideas onto paper.

Sometimes it was a good thing that the walls were so thin.

I heard her get up from her chair, followed by the cupboard door swinging open. She was getting some paper. I was forgiven. For now.

I heard another thud on the floor of her office, and the sound of paper flying everywhere. That was either Bella falling over, or –

"Damn it." I heard her curse.

Bella falling over. I laughed quietly to myself. Balance never had been her forte, and the fact that every morning without fail, she would walk through the doors in those black high-heels, was something to be in awe of.

"You know what they say about eavesdroppers..."

I opened her door. "You're interesting to listen to," I retorted back, the smile clear in my words. She began picking up the files on the floor, and I couldn't help but watch her. The right thing to do would have been to help, but watching her bend down, her hands reaching for the files, her skirt sliding higher up her pale legs...

As she made her way towards her desk, never once looking at me, she turned her back. "If that's what you really think..." My expression froze as she reached for the yellow file, before flipping it over to the back.

"Hello, is Mike there?" she emphasised his name loudly. Ignore the jealously – it'll go away. "This is Bella Swan. I was just calling to see if he has a free moment in his schedule. There are a few questions I have about the file he sent over, and I'd love to meet up with him if he's available. Is it possible for you to arrange a time when we could have lunch together?"

I slammed her office door shut.

She wanted to have lunch with a blonde haired kid who'd only just learnt his alphabet. She'd said yes to him.

I closed my eyes quickly, hiding my pain. My breathing was erratic and jagged as I slumped in my office chair. I tried to reach for the papers blindly, but they slipped through my fingertips, scattering across the floor. "Shit," I muttered quietly to myself.

I needed to get a grip.

"Oh, tomorrow sounds lovely. Thank you so much for doing this, I really appreciate it."

She's not yours.

Tuesday, 8.15am

"Excuse me," I looked up from my desk at the voice. "I'm sorry to bother you, but is Isabella in yet by any chance?" I groaned internally as I saw the blonde kid standing opposite me again.

"No, she's not." I tried to hold back the bitterness from my voice, but I wasn't too successful. Unfortunately, he was too much of an optimist to notice. "Anything else I could help you with?"

"Actually-"

I was being sarcastic.

"- there is one thing. Seeing as you work with her and all, I was wondering if you could give me an insight into her likes and dislikes. Maybe if you knew what colour she likes, where she goes for lunch, what she likes to eat... that sort of thing."

Blue. The café across the road with the small beamed windows and white lace curtains. A large cappuccino and a cheese sandwich.

"I don't. I'm sorry."

"Ah, that's too bad."

Please leave now.

"Do you think she'd prefer flowers or chocolate?"

Chocolate. To match her eyes. "No, I don't." Now get the fuck away from me, and Bella.

"How about-"

"Look, I have a lot of work to be getting on with, and this is taking up a lot of my time. I don't mean to be rude, but could you please find someone else to answer your questions?"

His eyes widened in surprise. Who the hell did he think he was? He didn't have the right to ask me these questions, or to even assume that it was what she wanted.

"Besides, what do you think she'd say if she knew you were asking me these questions?"

"Are you implying anything there Mr Cullen?" his question became sour. "I have a pretty good idea who Isabella Swan is, and I think she'd appreciate me asking."

He thought she wanted him? "You're wrong."

"Oh really?"

I sighed angrily, my eyes narrowing at his. "She's not interested in you. There, I spelt it out for you. Now leave."

He laughed brightly. "She called my secretary to arrange a lunch date. You don't get more obvious than that."

Date. I couldn't let Bella go on a fucking date with him. He was verging on psychotic. Asking about her favourite colour, and where she went for lunch. For all I knew, he could have been asking how fast to move.

"As much as I love you both, there's no need for you to fight over me." Her voice was sweet and teasing as she stepped into the office. Her black high heels started clicking.

How much had she heard? was my instant fear. And I fell back into my seat, crossing my arms over my chest. There was nothing I could say now in front of them both. My eyes turned dark at Mike – warning him with a glance.

He ignored me, and moved his body subtly towards Bella.

"Hey Isabella."

She returned his smile, her voice kind. Her smile was forced – even I could see that – but it didn't calm my emotions. Regardless of whether she truly meant it, she had smiled at the blonde kid, and that was something she'd never done at me.

"I finished writing your report yesterday, but there are just a few things I want to go over and check because I'm not happy with them, so I'll have it on your desk by the end of the day."

As she moved towards his office, he followed. "That's great."

"So, what are you doing today? Don't you have reports to type up?"

Thank God she was trying to get rid of him. She doesn't like him.

"Not this morning," his voice was too bright. "I'm completely free, and I thought maybe... that we could arrange that lunch date?"

Fucking date. For it to be a 'date', the two people on it actually had to like each other. I had no doubt about his feelings towards her – and to be frank, you'd be an idiot not to feel that way for her. But her feelings for him were platonic. I was almost certain about that.

I was proved right when she flinched away from the word, and a smug satisfaction seeped through my thoughts.

"Sure," she said, her words spilling out too quickly. "I have to get some work done first. But how about I call you when I'm finished?" I'd rather you didn't.

My satisfaction wore off quickly when I realised she was actually going on the date. Bella Swan, sitting opposite Michael fucking Newton over lunch.

I wanted to hurl.

"That'd be great, thank you!"

"Okay New- Mike. I'll see you later then."

His voice was sickly sweet and dripping with honey – which really wasn't helping with the whole needing-to-puke situation. Before he left, he fucking waved. "I'll see you too Isabella."

Even when he was leaving, he couldn't even get her name right. Asshole. He wanted to take her out to lunch, and he was calling her by a name I saw her flinch at.

"It's Bella." I hissed loudly, my hands curling around the sides of my desk as I imagined them eating lunch together again. She'd smile at him, and laugh warmly at something he said. He'd reach across the table and touch her arm gently, his face bright and expectant.

"What the hell are you on?" Bella asked quietly as she turned towards me, her body leaning against the door frame. Her eyes were watching mine patiently.

"He's insipid."

"So are you."

It was bad enough hearing comments like that from my conscience, but from Bella Swan? It was like a thousand knives penetrating my heart and causing a deep hole through the centre, letting the blood burst from the wound like an explosion of hatred, void of all compassion and love that I'd allowed to weaken myself...

Fuck it.

It hurt, okay?

"I thought you were better than him."

"Oh." Bella started laughing, and without another word she turned from me and swung the office door shut behind her. I leapt out of my seat, catching the door before it closed completely.

Bella Swan was laughing at me. "Miss Swan," I said through gritted teeth. "I wish you wouldn't laugh at me. Now... explain." I was standing too close to her, far closer than a colleague should stand to someone they work with.

The crown of her head was inches away from my mouth and had I leant my head forward, I could have pressed my lips into the top of her hair.

She ran her tongue over her lips again – always subconsciously.

"You're jealous." Her voice was shaking. She tried to cover it with a cough, but I rarely missed anything if was to do with her. Was she nervous? Did I make her nervous?

She quickly took a step away from me and made her way to her desk. As she sat down, her face was composed, her features smooth.

I could see the shadows forming around her eyes, like she'd been awake far too long. Her face looked tired, and her eyes held an air of defeat around them. Like she was tired of dealing with life... tired of dealing with me.

"You're wrong." I said quietly. I only want to protect you.

She laughed once more, her head shaking from side to side. "She's not interested in you," she imitated my voice. Then she laughed again... at me. "You're jealous that he's managed to get me to say yes, where you've been failing for the last few years."

Fuck me. Bella Swan was right... yet again. Only this time, she didn't see the bigger picture. She didn't see that I was getting her to say yes to the lust, but yes to the love as well.

"The difference is merely what you're saying yes to."

"Implying anything there Mr Cullen?" she question was bright. "Because if you were, let's just say that I certainly wouldn't have a problem saying yes if he were to ask. You, still remain to be a different matter."

I knew there were times when I took it to far, but this time, I had to fault in it. Bella took her words to far. Ignorance aside, she told me she'd say yes to him – all the while leaving out what she was saying yes to.

But it wasn't hard to guess. She wouldn't say yes to me.

"Now, as much as you like me Mr Cullen, I do in fact have a lot of work to do. So I'd appreciate it if you weren't in my office. As much as I enjoy your company, I don't want the honour at the moment."

If I told you I loved you, would you still shove me out of your office?

She wouldn't say yes. "What made you think I was going to stay?" I retorted, and yet again, she ran her tongue over her red lips.

"Goodbye, Mr. Cullen."

If I were to ask, she wouldn't say yes. "I have another report for you." Why the hell couldn't see she how I felt? Maybe if I blurted it out, maybe if I told her I loved her, she'd see it. But even then, I couldn't see the cliché happy ending that a part of me wanted.

She'd laugh at me.

"If you're just trying to bombard me with work so I can't go on my lunch date, then don't bother. You're going the wrong way about it."

"I'm not trying to stop you." Liar. "But it's a report I need done."

"Well, leave it in my box and when I have got the time, I'll have a look at it."

"Thank you." My voice was grateful, and at the sound, her brown eyes darted up to mine in surprise. "It would mean a lot to me if you could. It's an easy write for you – only five thousand words. Thanks Bella, I owe you." I smiled warmly, before turning and shutting the door to her office.

"It's Isabella to you!" she shouted after me.

I wondered how long her anger would take to subside this time.

As I fell back into my chair and I grabbed the first report on the pile, I realised my printer was out of paper. Was it too soon? I'd just given her a five thousand word report, so she wasn't going to be the warmest of people to be in a room with.

Coward.

From inside her office, I heard the creak of the chair as she reclined back on it. She was calmer now – I knew that much – and there was nothing like living life on the dangerous side.

I knocked quietly on her door, my breath held as I waited for her reply. It only took a few short seconds. "Come in."

I just wanted to borrow some printer paper." My voice was timid – half expecting her to demand I leave. But yet again, she surprised me.

"Be my guest," she gestured towards the cupboard. She didn't even look up from her papers to let me see her eyes. With my thoughts perturbed, I slouched down by the cabinet and began to search for the right paper.

Then, as my eyes flickered towards her desk, hoping finally for a glimpse of her eyes, I realised that if I sat right here, I had the perfect view of her.

Her black shoes, her pale legs, her waist, her-"

"Mr Cullen..." she started to say, and my eyes flashed back towards the paper in my hands before she could catch me staring. "Who wrote this article?"

"Hmm?" I'm currently pretending to be engrossed in which colour paper. Are you convinced?

"The report," her voice was impatient. "Who wrote it?"

Such pale legs. I wonder if they felt like velvet when you touched them. Bella's legs. Velvet. Touch. Pale.

Level four. Someone on level four.

"Oh, right, the report." I dropped my papers suddenly, forcing myself to concentrate. Don't stare at her legs. If you stare at the bridge of someone's nose, they still think they're looking at you. "A novice down on level four. Apparently it was for page thirty four if that explains everything." I shrugged, trying to act casual as I turned back to the cabinet.

Concentrate on the paper.

Bella. Paper. Bella. Paper. Bella. Paper.

Bella.

My eyes flickered over my shoulder, watching her sigh in frustration over the article. Her shirt shifted a little at the movement, and the low V became more pronounced. I thanked God that the first two buttons were undone.

My glance trailed downwards, unable to help themselves, until they reached the black, deadly shoes.

I had a love-hate relationship with those shoes. One that was hard to reason with.

I hated them because of the noise they made. And I loved them... my eyes darted towards her pale legs... because they were hers.

"Mr Cullen, do you think it's possible for a dog to smile?" She looked up suddenly from her papers, not giving me a chance to look away. Her eyes hardening as she saw me staring directly at her legs.

Caught. Red. Handed.

She grabbed the nearest thing from her desk and threw it towards me. The rubber caught me straight in the forehead, and I fell backwards, losing my balance.

"Hey!"

"Get out of my office."

I stumbled to my feet, my eyes angry. She'd just thrown a rubber at me. "I haven't got my paper."

"Well, how about you tell me what paper you want? I'll find it, and then I'll come and give it to you. That way, you don't have to spend a good half an hour sat holding two different colours of paper in your hand, and I don't have to listen to you breathe."

She wouldn't say yes to me. "If I'm that much of a nuisance, why do you even work here?" he retorted. Death sentence number one.

"How should that be any of your business?" She pushed past me and moved to pick up the papers that were now scattered on the floor around me.

Maybe I could lighten the air. Maybe it'd be a good idea."

"You know, when you bend down like that..." Death sentence number two.

"Will you stop? Stop with all the innuendos and the stupid flirting." she shouted, and I flinched away from the tone of her voice. She stood up straight and slammed the papers against my chest. In a twisted way, it was a massive turn on.

Her shirt was riding up against her waist, but that wasn't what caught my attention the most. In this moment, she looked beautiful. Her eyes were blazing with such a powerful intensity, her hair was caught in the sunlight... "I don't like you!"

The harsh truths of reality hit me, and the image faded quickly.

"Especially when you yell at me, then give me a ridiculously long report with an absurd deadline, and then comment on how good my legs look!"

She took a deep breath, struggling to calm herself down and she dropped her hand away from my chest quickly. My body missed the contact. "I'm going to say it again. Get out of my office Mr Cullen."

"No." Death sentence number three.

Silence filled the gap between us. I was stubborn by nature – Bella knew that. And she'd also know that I wasn't going to leave easily.

"Are you kidding me?"

"You don't understand me Miss Swan. Well... I don't understand you."

"I don't want you to understand me," I said angrily. "I just want you to get the hell out of my office. How can one person be such an asshole?"

Quick as a flash, my hand darted out and caught her wrist. I pulled her closer towards me, my eyes darkening. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. "Don't you dare talk to me like that."

"Get your hand off me," she breathed quickly, and as I glanced down towards her, my jaw taut with anger, I saw her eyes filled with fear. Death sentence number four.

It was only seeing the panic in her eyes that I realised what I'd done.

And you wondered why she wouldn't say yes to you...

My grasp immediately loosened, and I took a step away from her, my body locked in terror. I'd hurt her. I'd fucking reached out and grabbed her arm. I couldn't be here – not now – not with her so close to me. "I'm sorry," I pushed the words out of my lips as I turned and fled from her office.

I think you handled that marvellously.

I hate you, conscience.

Oh, but I love you.

AN – Thank you to all the readers who've continued to read this story after 'Red'. I wanted to give you a little insight into the weirdly wonderful perspective of Edward Cullen and his outlook on life. I got a lot of reviews questioning the reason behind Edward's anger in 'Red', and hopefully this explains a lot of what Bella couldn't understand.

Once again, I owe far too much to my readers.

Reviews = Cookies