A/N: While their ages are not revealed in the text yet, I would like to state here that Isabella is legally an adult. Additionally, Edward is far from a perfect man. He is a hardened criminal. Though he makes an effort to be gentle with Isabella, try to keep this in mind.

The men around him were roaring with laughter as Emmett regaled them all with the details of his wife discovering his newest amante, as she was crawling out through the bedroom window. He glared into his brandy, watching as it swirled in the clear glass. He couldn't bring himself to enjoy the company, as his mind wandered to the most recent shipment which had been raided by the feds. The loss of 1,000 pounds of heroin was massive, but his concern lay in that it proved there was a mole in his inner circle. All of the cogini should be trusted, considering the extensive history and testing that they all underwent. He had thought that his problems were resolved after he had taken care of Luca, the damn bastardo, years ago. Taking a large swig, he glanced around the room. It was just the fratelli here tonight, playing pool and becoming increasingly rowdy as the bottle of brandy became lighter.

Bright green eyes moved sharply and his fingers twitched toward the gun at his waist as he caught movement from the large doorway by the grand staircase. Doe eyes, frozen in the headlights, stared back at him in horror. The girl stood at the edge of the entrance, quivering in just a silky sleep number, brown hair tumbling over her shoulder. He could feel the desperation in her gaze, her eyes begging him to let her run, to pretend he never saw her. But quiet as the little mouse might be, he had caught her and his brandy washed brain told him not to let her go. He motioned for her to come, tuning out his fratelli as they remained oblivious to the young woman. She hesitated and for the longest moment Edward wondered if she might have some strength after all, if she would attempt to defy him.

The moment didn't last. Shaking like a leaf and appearing as though she might be ill the girl slowly approached him, her delicate feet gliding across the dark wooden floors with grace despite her limp. His eyes fell on her left leg, deep bruises still apparent around her knee. Carlisle had said that her broken patella would take months to heal, and she shouldn't be bearing weight for at least 6 weeks without the brace that he had provided. Said brace was currently nowhere to be seen and he wondered at how she had managed the flight of stairs alone. Traveling up her long pale legs the edges of a single, lingering bruise could just barely be seen on her inner thigh below the trim of the blue shorts. She was stronger than she was aware of, he knew. His eyes met hers once more as she stopped in front of him.

"Sit cara." It wasn't a request, and his deep voice brought 8 other pairs of eyes to the trembling girl who had previously gone unnoticed. She closed her eyes and he heard a faint whimper, feeling her freeze up. Taking pity on her, he reached forward, pulling her down and into his side. Away from the cold air. Away from the curious and perhaps leering stares of his fratelli. A sharp look from him caused the air to shift back as Emmett quickly began another story and their attention returned to the game. Her face was willingly buried into his chest, he realized suddenly. The loveseat was small, but she could have chosen to distance herself toward the other end. He noted that the black cotton tee he was wearing was becoming damp with her tears as she balled herself into his side with an intensity that made him certain she would climb inside of his skin if she could. She was terrified. Her fear of Edward over-ridden by the absolute horror that being surrounded by all of these men instilled in her. He tightened his arm around her and stroked her hair gently, feeling himself soften to her. The poor child. What had happened to her? To bring this fragile little thing to this point? He could feel her ribs stabbing into his side with each breath. She needed more than he could give, and yet he felt his hand reaching under her chin, pulling her face up to meet his own. She was deathly pale, eyes swollen and looking in every direction frantically.

"Rilassati Isabella. You're safe with me." The words left his mouth without his permission. How could he promise that to this girl who he knew nothing about? Who he had kidnapped and locked in his own home? And yet it felt so vital in this moment to make her feel safe as it was painfully clear she had not felt in so long. A fresh sob wracked her body, but she remained silent, looking down at his chest. "Guardami ragazza." He commanded, the alcohol drawing out his native tongue. To his shock she obeyed him, continuing to tremble as her deep chocolate eyes met his own. "Parli Italiano?" Her eyes shot back down quickly and it looked as though she might faint. A chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Mi sorprendi. Chi sei veramente, Isabella Swan?" Even as asked the question he knew that the little thing before him couldn't hide a thing. Not on purpose anyways. James was taking his sweet time with the damn file.

"Non lo so bene. Solo a Antonio piace palare nella tua lingua." He masked his surprise at hearing her beautiful lilting voice and tilted his head at her words.

"Chi e questo Antonio?"

"Mio fratello. Credo.." She trailed off, her brow furrowed in confusion. He felt his own confusion follow at her words. She did not know this man's relation to her? A man who she had spent enough time with to learn an entire language? The girl was becoming more mysterious by the day. She seemed to be getting upset as she was lost in thought and he quickly changed the subject.

"What are you doing out of bed, little one?" the booze was surely getting to him at this point as the pet names slipped out and his hand found itself stroking her hair gently. Truthfully he was shocked to see her out of her room at all, as she had not yet left her room despite him leaving the door unlocked frequently. He shook his head at calling it her room, suddenly angered. Alice's room. It was Alice's room. The little chit before him was just staying there until he figured out what to do with her.

She immediately noticed the darkening of his eyes and the hand suddenly clenched in her hair and the tears began again. Ironically she felt herself burying her face into his chest once more, seeking comfort in the one she feared. A deep breath left him and he released his grasp on her hair, returning to the gentle strokes. He shifted as a particularly loud laugh from Jasper caused her to flinch, pulling her up so that she was tucked against him, forcing her face from his now soaked tee. "I understand that you are frightened, but you must learn not to ignore me when I speak to you". The gentle hand under her chin held unspoken threats despite his soft words and she swallowed loudly.

"I-" the tears returned. She couldn't seem to control herself and he found himself thinking again that she was so fragile. So weak. And yet, somehow he could feel that it wasn't a matter of her strength, so much as it was a matter of whatever she had been through. That wouldn't get her out of answering for her disrespect however, and he maintained his hold on her chin patiently. She took a deep breath, letting it out shakily and seeming to calm somewhat. "I heard the noise. I thought- I didn't – couldn't-" another breath. "I just wanted to see who was here. It sounded like my fratelli." She trembled at the word and tried to break free of his grip. He tightened his arm, his mind racing at her use of the word. It hadn't alarmed him when she mentioned her possible fratello before, but somehow when she spoke fratelli, he knew that she was not talking about her true family. She was talking about an Italian family. Mafia. And yet, she had said her fratelli. Could this kitten before him truly be involved in the crime world? He was tempted to shove her into the couch and force the answers from her, and yet he could see that knowingly, she played no role in the violence of his world. Entering a room with 8 men was traumatic enough for her tonight. Any fool could tell she was terrified and confused. He couldn't force answers from her. She would have to be persuaded, and gently. And James would have to put a rush on her damn file.

"I meant it little girl. You won't be hurt here. You don't have to be afraid, unless you are hiding something from me." She sensed the questioning tone that he had ended with, despite his determination to let her relax tonight. Her chest tightened and suddenly she found it difficult to inhale.

"No, sir, I-I don't know any of it I don't I promise I-" He cut her off, feeling guilt at her stuttering fear.

"Hush. We will talk about this later." Guilt. That wasn't something he was familiar with. Perhaps with Alice, but never with anyone else. Not the men he killed. Not the women he fucked and left. Not the families he had torn apart. He shook his head, wondering suddenly just how much he had had to drink. He moved his glass to her lips, suddenly noticing how plush they were. "Drink." She obeyed immediately, as if on instinct, shuddering as it went down the back of her throat. To his shock she continued to drink the strong liquid, struggling to swallow it, her face cringing. He pulled the glass away, spilling some down her silk tank. She didn't look up as she coughed, staring down at her feet, her face as pale as ever. It was as if she was calmed by the command. By being told what to do. As though she needed direction, no matter how miserable that direction might be for her. What had this girl gone through? He remained silent. Looking into his nearly empty glass. She must have downed at least two shots worth. She was so thin, and he hadn't meant for her to have more than a few sips to relax her. But what could he say? She had just been following his demands. It wasn't her fault that he had assumed she would hesitate or perhaps turn her head. "Have you eaten baby girl?" his tone was soft again.

She nodded in response. "I had the fruit you brought me yesterday." His head tilted, his mind racing. Did she mean the small bowl of kiwi he had seen her nibble at from her breakfast tray? Did she not eat when he wasn't there with her? He knew she was receiving plentiful food as he had ordered the cook to bring her trays three times a day with snacks in between. Again Edward became aware of the ribs digging into his side.

"Fanculo. You cannot be drinking like this on an empty stomach. What-" he trailed off. He couldn't ask what she had been thinking. She was just obeying him. And now she would suffer because of his thoughtless orders. "You have to eat cara" the endearment slipped out without his notice and she shook under his disapproval, unable to mutter a word. She closed her eyes tightly, expecting a slap, but he just pushed her face gently back into his chest, stroking her cheek. "Just relax. I'll take care of you" he found himself saying, suddenly aware of his "brothers" once more. They had carried on with their game, ignoring their capo and his pet in the corner. She was a beautiful little thing but they new better than to allow their eyes to wander around the boss' toys.

His shirt was wet again. He tightened his grip and stood up softly, pulling her against his side so that her legs dangled in front and behind of him, her face scrunched into his shoulder.

"Tornero." he said to nobody in particular, whisking the girl from the room and back up the stairs. She felt like a child in his arms with her lightness, and yet looking down at her long, soft legs he had to admit that she was no child. He cringed, his mind wandering to that lingering bruise below the edge of her shorts. Did more remain? Had there been more before the ones he first witnessed? How many times had she been hurt, and by how many men? He shook the thoughts from his head and yet found himself carrying her to his own bedroom and bringing her into the adjoining bathroom. He shifted her slightly, leaning down to start the water in the Jacuzzi bath. She started slowly at the noise, her eyes struggling to focus as she turned her head. She looked up at him in confusion but did not seem afraid.

"You are covered in brandy and tears. Let me wash you." He stated bluntly. Her head bobbed slightly, her neck weak and eyes continuing to struggle to focus. She nodded slightly, returning her face to his shoulder. He was surprised to sense the trust that she was placing in him. Did he succeed in making he feel safe with him? Did she truly believe he would not hurt her, to the extent of letting him bathe her willingly? His mind wandered to the first night when he had brought her to his home. He had struggled to bathe her then. She cried and thrashed despite her pain and exhaustion as he attempted remove the dirt and blood caked onto her body. Perhaps it was just the alcohol. He shook his head. It didn't matter.

As the water rose in the tub he leaned her against the counter and began to pull her tank over her head, noting that she wasn't wearing a bra. She swayed, falling against him once more and he sighed, adjusting her to remove the shorts. No underwear either. She certainly hadn't been expecting to be seen, by the looks of it. He felt a flash of guilt once more for forcing her to come into the room with his fratelli. And yet here she was, allowing him to strip her naked without complaint. He scooped her up, kicking off his pants as approached the tub, and set her into the warm water gently. She moaned, and her head lolled back. He caught it quickly, yanking off his shirt and climbing in behind her in just his boxers. He pulled her back against his chest, feeling the warm water envelope them, the gentle splashing the only noise in the large bathroom suite. She didn't say a word as he started moving a soapy rag across her chest, taking care not to let his touch linger. He continued to bathe her, noticing her eyes occasionally flutter open to look at him as she remained limp in his arms. He found himself kneading her shoulders soothingly, feeling so much tension beneath his fingers. The girl was a fucking mess. She moaned at his touch and he tensed at the sound. Her soft noises continued and he stopped suddenly, realizing the water needed to get very cold, or he needed to get away from her naked body.

"Fuck." he whispered. She startled, turning slowly, her head still unstable on her neck. He stared at her orbs, wondering what the hell he was doing. She was drunk. Completely shitty, and it was his own fault. And now he was in the bath with her, naked, feeling himself harden at her moaning. His mind flashed to that damn bruise, and her fear at being surrounded by men, and he felt ill. "Come, cara. Let me put you to bed." His voice was like velvet as it wrapped around her soothingly and she leaned against him once more. He stood, bringing her with him, and pulled a towel from the stack. He wrapped the plush material around her gently, noting her rake thin arms covered in goose bumps. She didn't say a word as he brought her to his bed, laying her down on the silk sheets, both of them still dripping wet. Grabbing a T-shirt, he helped her to pull it over her head, pausing as he went to pull it past her slim hips.

"Can I look?" the soft voice questioned her, and she found herself nodding again, uncaring. She just wanted to sleep. He laid her head back on the pillow, and ever so gently pulled her legs apart. She tried to sit up, whimpering, suddenly more alert.

"No signore please please please-" He shushed her, pushing her firmly back down as she continued to whimper and plead with him, trying to close her legs with the little strength she could find. The realization that she was so weak and disoriented seemed to crash down on her and she started to cry softly, her pleading slurred and hiccups starting. Ignoring her pleading, he glanced down between her legs. The bruise he had seen earlier was indeed not the only one remaining. Several small marks were scattered around, still a drastic improvement from when he had first seen her. And most importantly, there was no active bleeding which was what he had feared most. She hadn't let Carlisle look there, and he hadn't been able to bring himself to forcefully hold her down so that Carlisle could complete his examination. The doctor had warned him however that if the bleeding continued she needed to be looked at in case it required stitches. He closed her legs gently, pulling the shirt down further and pulling the covers over her. Edward found himself kissing her forehead gently, whispering soft comforts into her ear and stroking her hair. It wasn't long before she was asleep, tear tracks staining her smooth skin. He stared for a moment before shaking his head and turning to get dressed once more. He had to return to his fratelli. He needed to discuss the shipment problem with his inner circle, as it appeared that they alone could be truly trusted. He left the room without glancing back, locking the door behind him.

A/N: Thank you for all of the reviews last chapter. Like most authors here, I am highly encouraged to continue when I hear that people enjoy this story.

Thoughts? Ideas? Questions?