BPOV

Fiiiiiiiiiiiire! Fiiiiiiiiiiiire! I jumped out of the bed and started rushing back and forth in the room. The siren wailed somewhere nearby. Having knocked the chair over, I tripped over my own shoes and, of course, stretched out on the floor. Great! With my forehead on the carpet, I tried to bring my thoughts into order.

"It’s not a fire, but the alarm clock on my phone. What the fuck? I always had Elvis ringtone for these purposes.”

"I slept in the clothes. Fucking lush.”

"But who took off my shoes? Cullen?!!”

"Shit...”

"Shit!”

"Shiiiiiiiiiit!!!”

"And he didn’t even fuck me.”

"Jerk-off.”

"Or he did, but I do not remember... Yeah right, and then he dressed me up.”

"In two hours I had to be at the Smiths’. God, give me strength...”

Having risen from the floor, I walked up to the shower, and ordered breakfast in the room. Cute girl of my age put a tray with toasts, scrambled eggs and a cup of coffee on the table. It seemed that this was the owners’ daughter. The only advantage of rural motels is delicious homemade food.

After eating the breakfast, I opened my suitcase up. There was this rigorous three-piece suit, neatly folded at the bottom; I chose it specifically for this trip. On top there were shorts, V-neck sweater, lamb fur jacket, and high heel boots with a stable heel. On the way back I was going to visit my friend from college. And party in the company of Rosalie Hale on the Portland’s dance floor. These things were listed on top in my anti-Forks-depressants list.

What the heck? To hell with these formalities. Having left the suit at the bottom of the bag, I put on a glamorous outfit. No long boots, it’s too much. Shoes are also will do. And a make-up little brighter than the day one.

I looked at myself in the mirror. Damn, it’s even better. Stylish chick, a little frivolous, that doesn’t give a damn about you, ladies and gentlemen with a rare last name Smith. If you’re expecting demure Bells with her tongue up her ass, get a time machine.

Sitting in the taxi, I nervously smoked a second cigarette in a row. Actually, I do not smoke, but the taut nerves required soothing action of tobacco. They say that nicotine, on the contrary, excites the mind, but it is the process that calms me down. You know, inhaling-exhaling…

The Smith’s House –located out of town – was a pretentious mansion with turrets in the Baroque style, with a huge landscaped garden which would more suit the definition of the park. I hate it... But today, I should feel free to look in to all the eyes of all of my demons. Demon. Devil. Satan. James Smith, Jr.. You have no power over me. I will not let you do it anymore... I can! I am able.

"Bella!” Charlotte was almost running towards me. "What an outfit!”

An old housekeeper was always kind to me, as well as her husband Peter, who served as the Smith’s gardener. I have often escaped from James intimidation in the kitchen. It is a pity that the then modesty of mine would not let me hang around with Charlotte, keep getting in her way all day long.

"Charlotte” I drowned in her warm embrace, and immediately felt better, more confident.

"Oh, my god, honey, you smoke?!...”

"That was the taxi driver, he was smoking all the way” I lied with a view of a caught schoolgirl.

"Well, yes, of course” Charlotte smiled, hugging my shoulders. "Come, everybody is waiting for you.”

Under the lamentations of my adult life and beautiful appearance we entered into the Smith’s Senior room. Peter and several unfamiliar to me people were already there. And, of course, James. He looked defiantly at my uncovered legs. I shivered. Pete stood up and hugged me.

"Welcome home, sweetheart” – he smiled. I forced a smile, to please him.

"Hello, Peter,” - I politely said to others in the room "Gentlemen, James...”

Gentlemen nodded to me, and this bastard only grinned vilely. Well, if this thing is going to be this way, I will make it through.

"Miss Swan, please be seated and let’s begin, perhaps,” skinny guy, that was at the head of the table, asked me. I nodded and sat down in a chair next to Charlotte and was all ready to listen.

The will announcement procedure lasted longer than I expected. Prim guys in Armani suits were Board of Directors of the corporation headed by Smith. Suppressing a yawn, I listened to the buzzing attorney, disclosing which assets go to whom. It is worth noting that at that time James looked inflated and tense. It seems that Dad passed him over with the will. It is not surprising. Even at the funeral of Charlie, Charlotte told me that this petty asshole became a drug addict, and got himself in debt to his dealers. My father has stopped pretending that everything was normal, and isolated him from the gravy train, closing all of his credit cards. James himself was actually nobody, and he lived off his girlfriend Victoria somewhere in Seattle.

From the said, I realized that a majority stake was divided equally among the members of the board, and all other things: real estate, cars, boats, private jet, bonds and money – James Sr. donated to several charities. Very funny, dude. Charlotte and Pete got a small cottage on the coast of La Push Beach. I smiled at them. It seems that Smith was a very fair guy, and especially after his death, he became one...

"My son James Aaron Smith gets the house in which he grew up, and 10% of Growth Stocks shares, hoping that you can finally learn how to make money, not just spend it...”

"Are you kidding me, John? A house and some shares?! Are you for real?” disadvantaged son exploded with anger.

"This is the will of your father, James, I’m just voicing his last wish” dispassionately, said the lawyer. "By the way, he left a letter for you...”

"Fuck you...” James dashed out of the office. I pressed my lips together to keep myself from laughing. There you go, surprise, asshole?!

"Well, that means only you left, Miss Swan,” the lawyer told me, putting James’s letter back into the thick folder. "To Isabella Marie Swan I leave the house which belonged to her father...”

I opened my mouth. I hated James Smith during these two long years exactly for this. He did a good job pretending to be my dad’s friend, and after his death, he just made public a bunch of Charlie’s IOUs. Poker is a terrible thing, if you cannot stop. But it’s even worse when your best friend does not want to stop you. My mother and I had no choice but to give Smith the Swan’s House – the only property of my father. And now... Why then?..

"…But on one condition,” oh, well, of course, the condition. "During the year, you are obliged to live in this house all the time. Only then this real estate will go into your permanent ownership. If you do not follow the conditions, the house will automatically go into the possession of my son James.”

I seemed to be punched in the stomach. I sat with a waxy face, glass eyes and an opened mouth.

"Miss Swan, do you understand the conditions of inheritance?” asked me attorney who voiced the last will of the deceased.

I nodded and shook my head at the same time.

"You can come to my office in Port Angeles later. We can talk about everything privately” he once again reached into the folder. "And there is a letter for you too from Mr. Smith.”

I reached out with a trembling hand, putting an envelope in my purse. What the hell does all this mean? People began going away, but I still sat in a chair, not understanding all this. "What the hell does all this mean?” stuck in my head...

"Miss Swan” attorney handed me his business card. "Please feel free to call me...”

I nodded...

"Bella, let’s go to the kitchen, and have some tea.” Charlotte squeezed my hand.

"Yes, ok” I replied and followed behind her.

I sat at a table with Charlotte and Peter all day. I ate and drank tea. The primary shock has passed, but my head was buzzing, not wanting to receive and analyze all this information. What the hell does all this mean?

"I’m sure he did it with some meaning,” said Charlotte.

"Smith was very sentimental recently, he knew he was dying and brought his affairs in order,” Pete backed her up.

"I do not understand shit” I kept saying the same thing, like a wound up.

I realized that it was evening, just when Charlotte got up to turn the lights on. I have to go to a motel, to think about all this... And tomorrow, I call an attorney and find out what all this means exactly from the legal point of view. I asked for the phone to call a taxi. Charlotte insisted that I stayed over the night in the house – noooooooo way... Pete offered to take me to my motel, but I already dialed the number.

They both hugged me near the forged grill gates, and made me promise to come visit them. I vaguely muttered that I would and jumped into the car. The driver started off, and I suddenly remembered about the letter. Having taken out an envelope, I tore it open and read the last words of my father’s best friend.

”My dear Bella!

I know that you hated me all these two years. Or maybe even longer. I admit that I did a horrible thing, forcing you and your mother to give me the house in exchange for Charlie’s IOUs. I was angry at you, and at Rene. I blamed you for the death of my best friend, who I thought died just because there were no you two in his life. Now, I realize that I was mad at myself because I could not become something more for him than just a friend, and a guy who played poker with him. I loved your father as a brother.

I know what happened when you were fourteen. I understand why you stopped spending the summers in Forks. Sam Uley told me all, but I did not believe it. I did not have the strength to admit that my own son was a monster. Time has shown that he was. I’m sorry, dear. I am so guilty before you, before Charlie. I leave you the Swan’s house on the condition, if you live in it during a year. You will be able to sell or lease it later. But I hope that during this time you’ll be able to love Forks at least half of how your father loved it.

You can call me a coon, old asshole and you will be right, when you learn that your failure to comply with this condition will make this house go to James.

I hope this will be an additional incentive for you. Please do this for Charlie. I wish you all the best. You have suffered enough already.

I gasped for air. Outside! I urgently need to get out!

"Stop here” I shouted to the driver.

"But we have not yet arrived.”

I shoved a bill in his hand and hurried to get out.

"Miss, are you all right?” How thoughtful.

"Yeah, I’m fine” I waved my hand, letting him go. "I just want to walk and get some fresh air.”

"Whatever floats your boat” he said and drove off...

I stood there, leaning on a lamppost to keep me from falling. My legs gave way. Stooping, I frantically groped a cigarette in the bag and lit it.

"How much, babe?” I heard a voice from the car which pulled over beside me.

"You couldn’t afford it” I blurted out, inhaling the cigarette.

The guy came out of the car and stood next to me.

"And what if you only gently lick it?” he purred.

I raised my eyes from his boots, and straightened up. What the fuck! What a bruiser. Probably I have completely lost my instinct of self-preservation due to shock because without thinking I blurted out:

"Well, if your dick is as subtle as your humor, then fifty bucks will do... Booya...”

He immediately put me in an arm lock and clicked with handcuffs on my wrists.

"Forks Police, you are under arrest ...” The bruiser poked my nose with a cop badge.

"Asshole, I was joking! I’m not going anywhere!” I yelled, while this big guy was skillfully shoving me in the back seat of the car.

"Yeah right, jokester. Will figure it out in the precinct. And it would be better if you have had some kind of ID on you” he got behind the wheel, grinning in the mirror.

Damn ... I left my driver’s license in another bag. Why the hell I dressed up this way…

We got to the precinct in no time. My teeth were cramped in frustration. Oh crap, they gonna put me in the slammer. The daughter of the police chief... In his own precinct. Lord, this is some kind of slapstick. I barely had time to recover and figure out what to do, and the big guy already dragged me inside...

"Damn, this is nonsense, let go of me! I’m Bella Swan, dammit!” I hissed, losing my voice in frustration.

"Really? And I am Santa Claus...”

"You, fucking dumbass...” I screamed...

"Take it easy, baby” he pulled my hand, dragging me down the corridor.

I raised my head so that I could see the eyes of this asshole, and to express that he would regret, and then I saw... Oh, my God! Thank you! My "savior” was standing near the coffee machine, waiting for his coffee. Please save me for the third time!

"He knows me!” I yelled, meeting the glance of his emerald eyes. "Cullen! Cullen! Edward!!!”

EPOV

Friday. Evening. I am stuck in front of the computer, entering last month’s statistics. I was not happy with regular reports, and I sent up a bunch of extra information: charts, graphs, correlation with the data of neighboring towns. I was kind of showing off, having nothing else to do, I had this reputation of an intellectual. I enjoyed it. All the more so, every Friday I would stay up late in the precinct. I would be happy to spend this time at Billy’s, but Friday was the day when the reservation guys hung out at the bar. I had no desire to run into Lea whatsoever. So, at the end of the week, I would steadily and methodically torture myself with work in my office.

Stretching out in the chair, I decided to stretch my legs. I thought I should get a coffee and smoke a cigarette. Looking at the way machine was buzzing, I gently rocked myself to and fro, stretching my limbs. Somebody slammed the door. Who the hell is that at this late hour?

"You, fucking dumbass...” I heard very familiar voice with a touch of hysteria.

"Take it easy, baby,” menacing Emmett’s bass.

I turned my head to the sound and met the frightened eyes of Bella Swan. Emmett pulled her down the hall toward the pre-trial detention rooms. What the hell is going on here?

"He knows me!” Bella screamed. "Cullen! Cullen! Edward!!!”

I crossed the waiting room with big steps, overtaking them. Emmett stopped, but was still holding Bella’s elbow hard. My eyes popped out when I saw that her hands were shackled in steel bracelets.

"Emmett, what the hell are you doing?” I cried.

"I got this hooker, she seems to be not from around here. And no ID on her. That’s all,” McCarthy reported.

"You dillweed,” Bella was trying to pull her hand out. "Cullen, for God’s sake, tell him!!!”

She was bristling up, but her eyes just stuck with me, begging for salvation, filled with tears.

"Emmett, take off the handcuffs from Miss Swan’s hands immediately!” I ordered with icily boss’ voice. "You are mistaken.”

"Mistaken – this is an understatement.” Bella growled at him again.

There appeared a display of the torment of mental activity on Emmett’s face. I looked askance at him. He reached into his pocket for the key:

"Is it true, she’s Bella Swan?” Emmett said looking like a beaten dog.

I nodded. As soon as Bella’s hands were free, she jumped on Emmett, punching his chest with her small fists.

"You stubborn douchebag! Stupid beefcake!” She screamed.

"Bella, Bella, enough” I put my arms around her, and dragged her to the office. "Calm down! It’s alright. He was wrong! Ok! Settle down!”

"He should sell his car, and buy him some brains, stupi...” She became silent abruptly, seeing a sign on the door saying: "Edward Cullen. Chief of the Police Department.” I pushed her inside the office and shut the door.

"You!” Bella jabbed her finger at me. Damn, well, now I am going to get it – both for Emmett, and for all that was wrong with her today. "You are the chief?!!”

"Yes” – simply answered I.

She kept poking me with her trembling finger. Her nostrils were flaring, her lips were compressed, and then the tears made their sudden appearance, running down her cheeks, and leaving wet tracks on them.

"You’re the chief! My God!” She was literally shaking and sobbing.

I sat her down on the couch, stroking her back, trying to comfort her. Bella leaned her head on my shoulder, and stopped crying. I, emboldened, put my arm around her shoulder.

"You scared?” I asked quietly.

She nodded, sniffing.

"Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday?” Her tear-stained eyes gave me this piercing, mute reproach.

"I do not know” I shrugged. "I just wanted to chat with a pretty girl. Without titles, and other crap.”

"I see.” Bella wiped her eyes with fists, and got up.

"No, stay here, I’ll bring something hot to calm your nerves down” I asked her, getting up. "And check out on Emmett.”

She pulled a wry face. McCarthy was standing in the waiting room and was baldly sipping my coffee, talking to the orderly officer.

"Edward, I ...” he began talking after he saw me near the vending machine...

"Come on, Em. Go home” I did not want to talk to him at that moment.

"Chief, but you saw the way she was dressed. Anyone in my place...” He began making excuses.

"Emmett, please” I cut him off again.

"How do you even know her?”

"I met her yesterday at Billy’s” I explained.

"I see... I’m sorry, boss, I screwed up” he was staring at his shoes. I chuckled, marveling at how such a big guy manages to looks like a naughty kitten.

"You should apologize to Bella” I picked up a glass of chamomile tea and went back to the office.

Bella turned her back to me, she was standing looking at the wall with my diplomas.

"Eaton University without attending classes. Honorary academy graduate. Impressive,” she said in a flat, colorless voice, without turning around. "Well, what the hell are you doing in Forks with all that stuff?”

"It’s a long story. Drink your tea!” I put the tea on the table and sat down in my chair.

Bella sat down on the other side of the chair, clutching a warm cup with her palms.

"Crappy day, huh?” I asked, noticing that she was hovering somewhere far away.

"It’s a long story” Bella sneered in reply. "Or is it an interrogation?”

I shivered from her antics:

"What? Are you annoyed with this?” She looked at me in amazement. "You think I’m in the wrong place?”

"It’s just weird to see somebody else but Charlie in this chair...” she answered quietly. "And I’m not the one to judge about someone being in the wrong place... But...”

"But?..” I wanted to know her opinion.

"I think you deserve more” Bella looked me straight in the eye.

I grinned. Oh, baby, sometimes the best is the enemy of the good. I feel alright here. But I’m certainly not going to tell you the story of my life... Instead, I asked:

"When are you leaving?”

Bella abruptly dropped her hand, with which she used to prop up her cheek, and buried her head against the table.

"I do not even know now” she mumbled, her voice was muffled. "I do not know a damn thing now...”

"But you will... I mean – it’s Forks. You will go mad if you stay here longer than a couple of days” I have tried to defuse the situation. And I succeeded – the girl giggled.

"I just need to sleep and think about everything” she got up from her chair. "I’ve been stuck here for long enough, I am just distracting you.”

"Let me drive you” I just noticed her outfit. Hmmmm... Bald! It is better that she would not wander at night in the town looking like this. Even here in Forks.

"No, I’ll walk” she refused.

"Bella, please, in this outfit...”

"Fuck, Cullen, this outfit is fine!” Bella raised her voice.

"But it’s Forks, and if I did not know you, then maybe I would have thought that you were...”

"Shut up! Do not even dare!” Again she poked her finger at me.

"Okay, okay, I just want that you would get to the motel without accident’ I gave up. Bella narrowed her eyes and smiled wickedly.

"Is King Kong still here?”

"His name is Emmett. I think he is waiting there for you to apologize” I suggested.

"Great, I want him to drive me!”

I just rolled my eyes. We went to the waiting room. McCarthy was still looming out there.

"Em, would you take Bella to the Webbers?” I said to him, stopping the flow of mockeries from the pseudo-hooker saved by me.

"No problem, chief. Miss Swan, please accept my apologies” he rushed past us like a whirlwind, went out the door, got into his car and started the engine.

I opened the precinct door to Bella, letting her go out first. She hesitated, and grabbed a cigarette out of the bag.

"Uh, Bella, Emmett does not smoke, may be you can...” I was going to offer her to smoke outside, knowing that McCarthy can not stand when somebody is smoking in his car, but she interrupted me.

"So much the worse for him” she opened the door, and got into the front seat. There were no emotions whatsoever reflected on Emmett’s stone face. "Thank you for everything, Chief. Later.”

She gestured "bye” with two fingers and bared her teeth, holding a cigarette in her mouth. I laughed, waving after departing car.