Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, no copyright infringement intended.

Side project, short chapter's, completely un-beta'd. Why the hell not, said I. I'm bored, stuck and antsy.

No offence is meant, the writing is purely for comedic value only and does not reflect my own thoughts or feelings in any way, so please remember that before shooting me an angry PM ;)

Chapter One

I was not happy.

I didn't care for this situation one little bit.

I, Edward Anthony Cullen, Chief Marketing Officer at EMG Sports Industries, was not in the least bit pleased with how this day was panning the fuck out.

There was a hippie in my office.

Now, not to sound like a total asshole, but everybody knows that hippies have no souls.

Alright, that's bullshit. They're just not really people.

That came out wrong. They are people. They're just not my kind of people.

Like her, the hippie in my office, she was just all wrong. Wrong for my office, wrong for me. Completely and utterly wrong.

She hadn't even attempted to cover up her flower power ways, she was blatantly advertising them. There was no expensive suit in sight, no proper attire befitting the assistant of a CMO earning $300,000 a year. Instead, she was dressed in a grey cotton shirt, a skirt that gave me a headache to look at and a pair of worn brown boots. Totally unacceptable.

"I bet you're just dying to go in there and make friends."

I shot Jasper a cutting look and returned to my glaring. Maybe I could glower her zany ass the hell out of my office without actually needing to, you know, speak to it.

"Now before you storm in and start pulling on her pigtails, she graduated from Seattle University with a BA in Business Administration and Marketing and did her MBA in Marketing straight after it. She's been working as an assistant to Demetri Grant over at VSR for three years and her references would have pissed gold if possible. Emmett would really like to keep her on and see her progress, so play nice."

I felt my eyes widen. "It's educated?"

Seriously?

It didn't even look like she'd brushed her Goddamn hair!

Jasper sighed. "Edward, you've fucked and chucked the last two. I think Emmett may actually kill you if you screw this one up."

I blinked at him. Twice.

"You seriously expect me to work with it?"

"Not 'it', Edward. Her. We expect you to work with her. Her is Bella. Bella is very pleasant. I'm sure you'll get along just fine providing you can pull your head out your ass before going in to meet her."

"Who the hell fucking hired her?" I reeled. "Are they blind?"

My skin was starting to itch just looking at her. This would never work.

"So she's a little... eccentric," Jasper waved off casually, as if this wasn't the mother of all disasters. "Who cares?"

"I care! Who in their right mind is going to take me seriously if they can't get past her desk for laughing?" Christ, I had a meeting at three! "Look at her Jasper! There are colours not even in the rainbow on that skirt!"

"You're being dramatic."

"She has blue streaks in her hair!" It came out louder than intended, and what with my hand suddenly jabbing in her direction, I don't think anybody within a miles radius was left clueless about our discussion. Including the hippie, who was now facing toward us, frowning.

Wonderful. Just wonderful.

"Just smile and wave," Jasper ground out, barely moving any facial muscles. "Smile and wave."

He could stick his wave up his ass and play finger fiddle with his tonsils. Tool.

I scowled at her through the glass only to have her frown deepen. And then she was walking toward the door – my door. She could keep on walking, I'd gladly supply directions.

"Mr. Whitlock, lovely to see you again." She was smiling, holding out a small hand for him to take, which he did, with a little too much enthusiasm if you ask me.

"Jasper, please. We're very informal around here, aren't we Edward?"

I sneered at him.

"Edward?" Her head swivelled toward me, that damn smile still in place. "Edward Cullen?"

I suppose she was pretty, in a mousy, bookish sort of way. She was no head turner though, average at best. I didn't like average. I didn't like those blue streaks either. They had to go.

"Mr. Cullen," I corrected brusquely, straightening my jacket.

She raised her eyebrows, turning back to Jasper. "Apparently not so informal."

Jasper laughed. Fucking laughed.

"Don't mind Edward, his anal retentiveness was fused with his DNA at conception. You get used to it."

I grumbled under my breath and waited for it to turn back to me. We needed to have words.

"Well," she breezed, rolling her shitty coloured eyes my way. "I've already called to confirm your three o'clock with Jefferson-Michaels. I took the liberty of checking your diary, I hope you don't mind. Your luncheon with Stanley House is now booked at the Dahlia Lounge, table for eight at twelve thirty as per your notes. Your appointment with Bree is still on, though I moved it from two thirty to eleven, just in case lunch was to run a little late. I spoke to Peter from finance who told me he'd have the figures back to you by the end of the day, and the drycleaners told me your suit was ready for collection - the 'fucking wine' did come out."

Jasper's face was smug, amused.

"Oh, and before I forget! Heidi's looking for you."

"I bet she is..." Jasper snorted.

I ignored him, for now. There were more pressing matters to attend to.

"That hair," I flitted a finger up and down in her direction, exuding seriousness while cringing, "that has to go."