Thanks so much for all the reviews!

Stephenie Meyer owns any Twilight characters that may appear in this story. The remainder is our original work. Copyright 2009 by spanglemaker9 and justaskalice. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without our express written authorization.

0

0

0

Royce took me to a party last night. He bought me a new dress and took me to get my hair done. It was so extravagant, I almost refused. I've never been comfortable accepting expensive gifts, you know that, but he begged me and told me how beautiful I would look, and in the end I agreed. It was worth it to see the smile on his face. The party was a business function, so he was busy all night talking to people and "working the room" as he calls it. We barely got ten minutes to ourselves, and I confess I was a little lonely. Lately we've been talking about our future, and I mentioned that I hope he won't work so hard if we get married and start a family. I don't think I'm cut out to be a socialite. I miss you. All my love.

*0*0*

The blood was pounding in my ears as I slammed the door on Edward's face and scrambled toward my room. It was irrational for me to be angry at the cat for interrupting my moment with him. I shouldn't have been thinking about kissing him again anyway. That first kiss had been a mistake. It was a mistake to think about the way he made me feel when his fingers grazed the back of my arm, or wrapped around my hand, or the way my skin tingled at the slightest contact.

Debussy howled again and I jumped, startled. A series of crashing noises echoed from my room. I wrenched the door open and he shot past me into the apartment.

"What the heck are you doing?" I huffed, watching as he bounded in a circle around the living room before tearing off into Alice's bedroom. My eyes widened at the thought of cat hair all over Alice's silks and taffeta.

"Debussy, stop!" I yelled, running after him. If anything, my chase only made him crazier. He backed into a corner, arching his back and flattening back his ears. He looked absolutely terrified. I felt a stab of regret. He was an outside cat, he had probably never been closed inside before. I had scared him.

I squatted down and extended a hand toward him, making little clucking noises with my tongue.

"There, there," I crooned. "It's okay. Come on, Debussy. I won't hurt you."

He relaxed a little at the name, and I took it as a good sign.

"That's it, just come on over here." I patted the ground in front of me and he slunk forward. Just as I was about to grab him, he shot through my arms and under my skirt, racing back down the hall toward the living room. I scrambled to my feet and chased after him.

"Darn it!" I hissed, almost tripping on my skirts. I heard a series of bangs from the living room, and when I turned the corner I was almost afraid the room would be in ruins. Instead, I saw Debussy, clawing fruitlessly at the glass door that led to the balcony. He mewed pathetically and head butted the door again, rattling it on its hinges.

"Just hold on, I'll let you out." I don't know why I was still talking to him. At the very least, it was calming me down a little bit. I finally reached the door and pulled it open. Debussy leapt out immediately and scampered across the window boxes that dotted the wall of the courtyard. Before I could see where he was headed, he had disappeared into the night.

Sighing heavily, I pulled the door shut to keep out the draft and looked around the room. Debussy had knocked over the little coffee table next to the door and rumpled the rug, but other than that the room looked intact. I straightened up and went back to my room, fearing the worst.

Considering the amount of noise Debussy was making when I got home, my room was relatively undamaged. My quilt was balled up in a nest near the foot of my bed, and the floor lamp was lying on its side. Thankfully, there didn't look to be any broken glass.

Debussy. What an odd name for a cat. I shook my head and picked up the lamp, setting it carefully upright. Edward was a mystery, that was for sure. I had been expecting something a little more standard when I asked him about pet names. Tiger, maybe, or Felix. What kind of person names a cat after a classical composer? A decidedly odd one, that's what kind.

The front door creaked open and I heard the clack of heels on the wood floors.

"Bella? Are you home?"

"In here, Alice," I called, tugging on my quilt to straighten it.

She peeked around the corner, twitching her nose a little. "I was hoping you'd still be out with Edward."

"No, he walked me home and said goodnight." I felt my face flush a little at the thought of his hands trapping me up against the door.

"He said goodnight, huh?" Alice teased, giggling a little and twitching her nose again. "Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays? That man was looking at you like he hadn't eaten for days and you were a steak dinner."

"Stop it," I blustered, still straightening the room surreptitiously. "He walked me home and we said goodnight. Oh!" I gasped. "He asked to see me tomorrow." In my rush to rescue Debussy I had simply told him yes and slammed the door in his face. He probably thought I was insane.

"That's good, isn't it?" Alice shot me a curious glance as she unpinned her hat and walked back into the hall. A few seconds later, I heard a loud "Achoo!"

"Bless you," I called. Another loud sneeze. "Bless you again!"

I started to undress and Alice came wandering back down the hall, wrapped in a silk robe. "Thanks," she muttered, rubbing her nose. "I hope I'm not getting sick. I never sneeze. Well, unless there's a cat around." She laughed lightly and swept into the kitchen, missing the way my face twisted and fell. How was I going to convince her to keep a cat she was allergic to? Maybe it was only a minor allergy. Of course, that was a moot point if Debussy never came back.

"Bella, can I ask you a favor?"

I pushed my dress down over my hips and jumped into my pajamas before jogging out to meet Alice in the kitchen. She was frowning at the empty cabinet.

"I guess I haven't been keeping up with the groceries," she said sheepishly. "I eat out a lot, and I'm not much of a cook. Do you think you can go to the market at Place Saint Medard tomorrow? It's not far away. We just need some fresh fruit and vegetables, and some bread, and maybe some—"

"Of course I can go to the market," I cut her off. "It'll be nice to do something normal after the last few weeks."

"Great! I'll give you directions in the morning, I'm beat. I can't believe I met Esme Benoit." She clapped her hands and giggled, looking a little bit like a child. "Can you believe that place? What a trip."

"I'm surprised you're home, actually," I admitted. "I figured you'd be out all night again."

"I have a photo shoot tomorrow," she sighed. "And I can't risk being late. I need to wake up early, and when I stay out too late I sleep like the dead. Anyway, I'm sure we'll be back; now that you're with Edward, we'll probably get invited to all of Esme's parties!"

"I'm not with Edward," I insisted weakly. "I'm only going to be in Paris for a short time. Once I find Rose, we're going back home to Forks. He and I couldn't ever… well, we're friends."

Alice rolled her eyes and flicked the light switch, plunging us into darkness.

"Sure, kid. Whatever you say."

*0*0*

True to her word, Alice was up early the next morning, brewing strong, black coffee and singing cheery French songs in the kitchen. I was starting to recognize the songs in her repertoire. I padded out of my room and poured a mug of coffee.

"Oh good, you're up," she said, grinning at me. "I was just thinking about the best way to get to the market, and I think I've figured it out. We'll leave out the shortcuts for now, I'll send you on the main roads until you're comfortable cutting through the alleys."

She had the map that Emmett bought me spread out on the table, and she pointed out the roads I would be taking. It seemed straightforward enough.

"And of course, you'll need money. I left enough for a few days on the table by the door. It's easier to go every day or so, then you don't have to worry about food spoiling or not buying enough."

I frowned. I hadn't thought much about it, but Alice had been paying for everything I needed since I arrived. "I don't know how I'm going to pay you back, Alice. I spent everything I had on my way here. I don't even know how I'm going to get Rosalie home."

"Don't worry about it." She waved a hand airily and scooped up her clutch purse, clacking her way toward the door. "I make enough to keep us afloat. And I've got plenty saved up. You run a few errands and help keep things clean, and we'll call it square. Now, don't get in too much trouble today. I'll be back this afternoon."

I spent the next hour studying the map. It was incredible how familiar everything looked after only a couple of days and a few expeditions out on my own. I found the route that I used to get the Square du Vert-Galant and the locations of the two bars we had gone to the night before. I laughed to myself as I remembered the last couple of days. No one from back in Forks would recognize me. What would they say when I got back?

I was about to get dressed when I heard the balcony door rattle. I couldn't help the wide smile that overtook my face. I hurried over and let Debussy in, scratching behind his ears and patting his head. He purred and weaved through my legs, rubbing his arched back against my shins.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, already halfway to the icebox. I felt less guilty about pilfering food for Debussy now that I would be taking care of the groceries. I could just get a little something extra for him when I was out shopping. I pulled out a plate and set a few scraps of meat on it and a little saucer of milk next to that. It seemed more official to see him eating in the kitchen, out in the open. He really was mine. I felt a tiny pang of guilt remember Alice's allergies, but I shook it off. I would keep everything clean. She wouldn't be able to object. Besides, he was such a sweet cat.

It didn't take me long to get ready. Now that I had resigned myself to the wardrobe that Alice was supplying me, I was starting to look forward to each new outfit. She really did have wonderful taste, and even the somewhat conservative clothing she brought home for me made me feel stylish and modern.

Leaving Debussy to enjoy the relative warmth of the apartment, I pulled on my coat and set off into the city. It was midmorning, and the sun was shining brightly despite the sharp breeze that whistled in my ears. Spring was coming. The trees that dotted the sidewalks were covered in tiny buds. Instead of the miserable grey pallor the city had when I arrived, everything seemed alive and green today.

The market was busy. It was set up in the middle of a normal street, wooden stalls crowded on either side of the cobbled street. People weaved in and out, talking in loud, garbled French and stopping to greet neighbors and friends. It reminded me a bit of the chaos at Edward's house the night before.

I don't know what kind of place I expected Edward to live in. Maybe a messy bachelor pad, or a tiny apartment like Alice's. I didn't know him well, but he seemed like a solitary person, so to see him surrounded by loud and rowdy people who obviously knew him—knew him and loved him—was a real shock.

I grinned down at a bushel of leafy greens as I remembered the look on his face when we walked into the parlor where his friend had been … performing. He was so embarrassed. I was beginning to look forward to the confused and flustered look on his face—the one he got whenever he was talking to me. He wasn't anything like the man I thought I saw in the park that night.

I passed the woman at the vegetable stall a few coins and moved on to the baguettes. If Edward became disoriented and nervous around me, I become unusually bold around him. He made me feel…possessive. When I saw him cornered by that woman, her lips rapidly approaching his own, I lost control. My mind didn't even register my actions until my hand was stinging faintly and Edward and his friend were gaping at me in shock. Luckily, Edward didn't seem at all upset. He was grateful.

It was completely improper, especially since I didn't even know enough about him to know the difference between a woman who was clearly a mother figure and a lover. I couldn't believe I had actually been jealous of Esme at first. She was …well, the most I could say at the moment was that Esme was enthusiastic. Her unreserved affection for everyone in her home, and especially for Edward and his friends, was overwhelming.

I spent a great deal of time sorting through wedges of cheese at a tiny dairy stand near the end of the row. The man there spoke a little English and offered me samples from the different flavors. I was getting used to the unrestrained way that the French addressed each other, sprinkling endearments throughout their conversations generously and indiscriminately.

The basket Alice had given me was nearly full by the time I had made an entire circuit of the market. I had fresh pasta and a handful of vegetables and fruits, along with a couple of pieces of fish and package of ham. My last stop was a flower stall, where I picked up a bright bouquet of local blooms. Yellow, orange, and red mixed together in a riot of color that I knew Alice would love.

Since it was such a beautiful day, I took my time walking back to the apartment, taking a meandering route that was much longer than the one I had taken to get to the market. Nothing in my basket would spoil, and it wasn't heavy, so I basked in the sun and walked slowly. I wandered through the residential neighborhoods for a while.

I passed a street musician, and my mind flashed back to Edward. I remembered the way he had eyed one group of young musicians as he showed me through Esme's home the night before. I almost suggested that he stay and join them, since he clearly wanted to, but I was too selfish. I wanted to hold on to the way he made me feel, just for a little while longer. I was so addled by the feeling that I asked about his room, for goodness sake. And then when he offered to take me there, I actually considered it. It was a complete contrast to the many times Jacob tried to cajole me into sneaking into his room with him. I refused every single time. One more out of character thing to add to my list.

I was somewhere near Alice's apartment when I first saw them. I was crossing the street and checking for any cars when two men caught my eye. They wore dark wool coats and fedoras, brims pulled low over their eyes. When they saw me looking at them, they picked up their pace, following me across the road. I sped up and changed direction.

I'm not sure why they made me uncomfortable. They weren't following me too closely, and I had no reason to be afraid, but I couldn't help but think of James' ugly grimace and the way he said my name. I shivered and ducked down a narrow street I was sure Alice had used on our trip to the Vogue offices a few days ago.

I was walking briskly now, almost skipping down the alley, cursing the heels that Alice had snuck into my room the night before. She had stolen my comfortable flats, and while I had no problem walking in heels, I couldn't run in them.

I turned up another street and kept heading in the general direction of Alice's building. I was a little turned around, but I was fairly certain that I was only a few streets away. When I glanced over my shoulder again, I saw that I was alone again. The alley I was walking down was deserted, but I was just grateful to see I had left the men behind.

I slowed down and caught my breath. When I got to the next street I glanced around, looking for some sort of a clue about where exactly I was. I thought I saw a window box that I recognized. Instead of the usual cluster of neat flowers, this box was filled with glass baubles that caught the sunlight and reflected it back onto the street in bright colors. I recognized it from my walks to the park. I was close. I could either take one more alley to cut up to Rue Jacob, or I could take the long way around and loop around to Saint Germain, which would take an extra five to ten minutes. I just wanted to be back at the apartment, and so I hurried forward into the alley which would take me there.

Exactly halfway between the street I had come from and Rue Jacob, I heard footsteps behind me. I sped up, but tripped over a loose cobblestone. My flowers went flying, but I managed to catch my basket before all my purchases when flying all over the alley floor.

I was on my knees in the half light, and I heard the footsteps steadily approaching me. When I opened my eyes and peered behind me, I saw a man in a dark coat and a fedora standing with his back to me, blocking the way I came.

"Stand up," a rough masculine voice said. I struggled to my feet and felt hands on my shoulders, yanking me to my feet and pushing me flat against the wall. My shopping basket lay abandoned where I fell.

"A pretty girl like you shouldn't go walking through alleys alone," the man sneered. I looked up at him and my heart stuttered. It was the man who had threatened Alice at Club St. Germain. We stood chest to chest, and his hands still gripped my shoulders.

"Get your hands off me," I said firmly, sounding more confident than I felt. "Leave now and I won't report this to the police."

The man gave me an amused smile. "What exactly are you going to tell them?" he sneered, his hands trailing down my arms. He leaned his head in close to my neck and inhaled deeply. I could feel his hot breath on my skin. It smelled faintly like garlic.

"I'm here to deliver a message," he growled, squeezing my hip and chuckling evilly. "Although there are a few more things I'd rather do." One meaty hand ghosted over my stomach. My heart hammered a staccato beat and I tried to focus on keeping my breathing steady. This was what my father had always warned me about, only it was happening in broad daylight. I squeezed my eyes shut as tight as I could, willing away the tears I could feel burning there.

"Stop asking questions about Royce," he whispered harshly in my ear. "And stay out of James LaFave's way. There are some questions better left unanswered, especially for wholesome, good little girls." His lips brushed my ear, and I couldn't contain the whimper that escaped my lips.

"Might as well mix a little business with pleasure," he said, before forcing his lips against my own. I struggled against his grip, but only for a moment. The next moment he was flying backwards, grunting in surprise.

My eyes flew open and I gasped. Edward had the man by the throat against the other side of the alley. I only got a glimpse of his face, but he looked enraged.

"Bella, stay back." His terse command propelled me backwards, and I tripped a little again, this time over something more substantial. I looked down and saw the man who had been guarding the entrance to the alley. A small trickle of blood dripped from his nose, but he looked unconscious. A bouquet of crushed yellow flowers lay next to him. A scuffling sound made me tear my eyes away.

Edward was locked in some kind of a wrestling grapple with the man who had been threatening me. He took a punch straight to his jaw and wheeled back.

"Not… this… time," he grunted, twisting his arms and pushing the man to the ground. Edward had never struck me as a particularly muscular man, but he had his opponent pinned in one graceful move. He pulled back a fist and struck him across the face, grunting incomprehensibly.

I crept forward, forgetting the danger we were both still in. Edward's teeth were bared, and his dark eyebrows were knit together in ferocious concentration.

"Not while I'm here," he panted, fists connecting with the stranger's nose, then cheek, then eye. "I'll kill you, you son of a bitch."

"Edward," I whispered harshly, trying to break through his fury. He was totally focused on the man beneath him, now unconscious. Edward's fists moved mechanically, alternating punches on the man's face and body. This was not the blustering, bohemian artist who had walked me home and held my hand. He was possessed.

"Kate," he mumbled. "Katie's safe."

"Who's Kate? Edward, come on, snap out of it."

I walked forward and pulled on his shoulder. He tried to shrug me off, so when he pulled his fist back again I grabbed his wrist. His knuckles were bleeding and his eyes were blank and staring.

"NO," he growled, yanking away. "No, I won't let you."

"Okay, that's it," I snapped, wrenching him back with all my strength. We fell back, my arms locked around his neck. He struggled limply in my arms. "Come on, Edward. Enough now, you need to get with it."

"Had to keep her safe," he said vaguely, sitting up and flexing his fingers.

"I'm safe, Edward," I said firmly. "Now we need to get inside before someone finds us."

"Bella?" He looked up at me, eyes clearing slightly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm safe, Edward," I assured him. "But we have to get out of here." I picked up my basket and gathered the two destroyed bunches of flowers. Mine had been trampled during the struggle, but the yellow flowers by the first unconscious man looked only slightly worse for wear.

"I brought you flowers," Edward said, reaching out for my hand. I led him out of the alley and down the block. We were less than 100 feet from Alice's front door.

"They're beautiful," I answered softly, glancing down at the flowers in my hand again.

Once we were in the elevator, I took a good look at Edward. One eye was already swelling slightly, and there was blood smeared on the front of his rumpled white shirt. The knuckles of both his hands were bleeding, and when he raised a hand to push his slightly matted hair out of his eyes, he left a trail of blood on his cheek.

He followed me to my door meekly, his eyes retaining that slightly lost look they had taken on in the alley.

"Come inside. I'll clean you up." I pulled him into the apartment and pushed him onto the armchair, hurrying toward the bathroom. I hoped to God Alice had a first aid kit somewhere. Debussy was sitting in the tub, cleaning his face with dainty swipes of his paw. Seeing me, he jumped up and rubbed against me, purring.

"Hi honey," I said distractedly, opening the medicine cabinet and digging through the various perfumes and makeup containers until I found a small tin with bandages and disinfectant. I grabbed a washcloth, ran it under warm water, and ran back to the living room where Edward waited. Debussy trotted after me, stopping in the kitchen and watching me approach Edward warily.

I knelt in front of Edward and swiped the cloth across his face, lingering on the cut near his eyebrow and his slightly swollen lips.

"I told you, I'm not a damsel in distress," I joked shakily. "You didn't have to charge in there. What if you had gotten really hurt?" I took his right hand in my own and dabbed his cuts with disinfectant. He winced, but otherwise didn't react.

"It would have been worth it," he said lowly. His voice was gruff, and his fingers flexed a little around my own. I looked up and met his gaze, and my breath caught. He was staring at me with a stern frown on his face, eyebrows furrowed, jaw tensed. I straightened up a little, bringing our faces closer together.

"What if that man had been armed?" I breathed, not breaking eye contact. He had charged into the alley to save me, not even thinking about the danger he was putting himself in.

"It would have been worth it," he said again. I watched his Adam's apple bob and his lips part slightly. It was mesmerizing, although I wasn't sure why.

"It was a stupid thing to do. You can't just go charging into a dangerous situation without thinking. You'll end up doing something you regret." I inched closer to him under the pretext of inspecting his black eye. Pain flashed in his green eyes, and he nodded.

"I already have."

There was something about the sight of him, wounded and bleeding, in pain and totally vulnerable all because of me—because of what he had done for me—that broke my self-restraint. Before I could think about it, before I could tell myself that it was stupid and pointless and a bad idea, I leaned forward and kissed him.

For a shining moment, it was exactly how I remembered it. His lips were soft and yielding, and I closed my eyes and lost myself in the feel of him. Then he was pulling away, his eyes wide and his mouth working soundlessly. I was frozen to my spot, breathing heavily and trying to understand the sudden absence of his lips. Finally, he spoke.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?"