DISCLAIMER: Still not mine. Sigh.

A/N: Title in Italian, Spanish, and English. Thank you for all of you who did your "homework." I will try to incorporate a little bit of all of them later. All of your suggestions have been taken into consideration. Thanks to Highonair435 for the song suggestion that helped with this chapter. Thank you to all who reviewed and waited patiently. It's Super Bowl Sunday! This chapter is a filler for later stuff, setting up the story. Sorry if it's boring.

Chapter 35: Tempesta, Tormenta, Tempest

BELLA

~Monday, 1 week and 6 days until the Competition~

The tempest gathered, ready to rain on my parade, and I was unprepared, no umbrella or raincoat. I thought growing up in Washington enabled me to call out darkened rain clouds in the sky. However, my sense of weather seemed to be off in a different hemisphere.…

"It's not that bad, love," he'd pointed out. Oh, he was so wrong.

It all started this morning, with a touch so soft it felt like a butterfly was tickling my cheeks as it batted its wings. A smile spread over my lips as I enjoyed the sensation. "I always knew I had a predilection for something sweet in the morning," I teased, opening my eyes to see Edward by my side, kissing me again.

He chuckled and replied, "Are you sure you don't want me?"

"Eating some of you for breakfast—hmm…? No, you have a very bland taste, Edward," I quipped.

He chuckled again and kissed my lips. Quick and pleasant. "Good morning, love."

"Mmm…that sounds nice," I whispered, curling up closer to him. My nightgown twisted up higher. "Say it again."

I felt his sweet warm words, "Good morning, love," breeze into my exposed left ear.

A crooked smile was on his face, and his hair was a mess. "I love you," I said softly, running my hands through his hair. Still fluffy. "What do you do with your hair for competitions?"

He chuckled, "Gel it. Lots and lots of gel or it will never stay down. Why, do you want to do it?"

"Why, is that weird?"

He shrugged once, running a hand along my right arm. "Make sure you get your camera today," he reminded me.

"Oh, yeah. I almost forgot about that. I'll put that at the top of my to-do list."

"Make that second."

"Then, what's first?" I challenged.

Edward rose from bed, cradling my face in his hands as he lowered his lips onto mine. Definitely number one.

My fingers crept up his broad arms, finding their place around his neck as he held my hips. His fingers rumpled the hem of my gown, causing it to slip higher on my thigh.

He pulled away, smiling, touching my neck.

"What?" I asked, suddenly bringing my hand up to my mouth, shielding him from my breath. "Is it bad? I just let me get into the bathroom. Edward, I'm sorry. And I keep talking, just blowing my—I'll just shu—" I didn't have to do a thing. Edward kissed me again.

"You're absurd, silly woman," he mumbled on my lips.

My mind wasn't on track…but something was flashing through my memory. It rhymed with blob. Slob? Bob?

Job!

I repeatedly tapped Edward's shoulders, trying to get him off, but just like a guy, he didn't take the hint. So, I pushed him off. It wasn't much a push, but he backed off anyways.

"What the…?" He eyed me with confusion as I bounded out of bed.

"I have to go to work, Edward," I answered quickly. "I can't be late for Ana; she'll blow up, giving me a speech on punctuality." He followed me into the bathroom.

My mind zoomed, trying to come up with the quickest way to get to work. I conceived blanks.

Unlike Mrs. Harris, my boss in Seattle, Ana didn't play around with time. Ana could be fashionably late to anything else, family events, etc. But with work, time was money, and there was none to waste.

I brushed my teeth fiercely, probably agitating my gums in the process. While I was brushing the molars, I saw it—a big flaming spot on the left side of my neck. I rinsed and moved my hair out of the way, trying to see it better.

"Look what you've done," I spoke in a slow, deep hiss. He didn't seem to be as surprised. "I have to go to work and look professional. Instead, I have a…a…" I couldn't say it.

Edward said it for me. "It's a lovebite," he chuckled, kissing the spot.

I shook my head, angling my neck away from him. "It's a hickey, Edward. There isn't anything lovely about it."

"If it bothers you, just cover it with make-up. Cindy used to."

Great. Edward gave Cindy hickeys, too. Now, I really feel loved.

I sighed, pushing the hair back in place. "I need to take a shower and get ready. You go and pick out something for me to wear while I try to savage my dignity in ten minutes."…

I didn't get a chance to make my "blemish" less noticeable. If my hair hung over my shoulders, no one would see, but once flipped back, the ungodly mark showed like the Red Spot on Jupiter. Bold on my pale skin.

The doors of the elevator opened, but I didn't notice until someone stepped in. At that moment, I rushed out, hoping not to trip as I navigated through the office. People stared in my direction as if I was crazy, or looked like an alien. Self-conscious, I could have sworn they gawked at my neck.

I saw Ana sitting on the corner of her desk, her hair up in a tight twist, her make-up light and virtually undetectable. She wore a tan skirt and a salmon-colored blouse. Very professional.

"Isabella," she cheered with a folder in hand. "I am so happy to see you."

"Yeah," I sighed out, going to my desk.

"We have mucho trabajo to do, today," she spoke. "Primero, I need you to make two copies of this edited article. The original goes back to Dolores. The copies come back to me. Segundo, I would like you to read and edit a story; I want to see what you think. Tercero, no, make this primero, bring me a cup of coffee, ¿por favor?"

"Si, señora," I replied with a smile.

"Bien. Ahora, vaya." She laughed lightly, as I grabbed her mug and manila folder.

I was very frustrated with the fact that a woman whispered something as I walked past her while I completed my tasks for Ana. I mean, I never did or said anything malicious to anyone in this office. However, when I came back to Ana's office, I didn't let it bother me.

Time passed, with quiet music and pens scribbling over papers and keys clicking, when Ana asked me, "By the way, how's practice?"

I shrugged, looking over a fresh piece, free of notations. "You know, nice. I'll write in the article this week. Edward's good." In more ways than one.

I looked up to see her purse her lips and raise her right brow while she thought about my words. I knew she caught my implication. Rising from her seat, Ana searched for the right words to say, but really what could she? She sighed, sitting on the edge of her desk, moving her eyes from mine to the back wall of her office. Family portraits lined the shelves behind me, ranging from various shapes, color, and subjects. "We had a family dinner yesterday," she brought up. "Pedro Juan came with his family. You and Edward weren't there."

"We were—"

"Do I even want to know why?" she smiled nervously, returning her gaze back to me. "I mean, I would like to have a friendship with you, but there are just some lines as a parent—biological or host—I care not to cross, so when the moment comes when I feel I have heard too mu—"

"It's not what you think," I assured her, blushing in the process. She nodded, comprehending. "Edward and I were practicing late. As soon as we were done, we were too worn out to do anything or go anywhere."

Ana readjusted her weight, scooting higher on her desk. "Let me see if I understand…you couldn't come over to have some of my cooking because you rather spend all your time with that muchacho?"

I smiled sheepishly, "I'm sorry."

She laughed it off, waving her hand dismissively. "Don't be, niña. You didn't miss a thing! Pedro Juan appears to be a nice boy. He's an honor roll student. Hopefully, some of that studious behavior sheds off on my daughter. He was very respectful. I think Sebastian warmed up to him. They talked together in private. Overall, I think I can accept that she's seeing someone."

"Think?" I questioned.

"Yeah, Elizabeth is still my baby," Ana replied.

I looked down at the unmarked article, but saw my hair covering the words. Without thinking, I pushed it behind my ear. Ana gasped.

"Dios mio. What happened to your cuello?"

I covered it quickly with my hand, sputtering gibberish.

"Edward did that to you?" she asked, hopping down from her desk. Before I could answer, she pulled something out of a side drawer. She came back with a hair tie. "Just brush your hand to the side and put in a low ponytail. It should keep."

"Gracias."

When my hair was fixed, "Claro," Ana smiled, going back to the front of her desk.

Suddenly, a knock came from Ana's office door. "Come in," she called. Stepped in was Oliver, an European man of his late-twenties. He was okay-looking except for his proboscis shot out like a target. It didn't make it better that he was stuck on himself. Bad looks and a bad attitude don't get people very far, especially in relationships. I saw one picture of his family. The rest of them lucked out on his "left-over" appearance. He was always hitting on Ana, though she ignored him, only dealing with Oliver because he wrote good pieces. More power to the woman.

"Ana, is it hot in here or is it just you?" he teased, but his pass fell a little flat. Try again.

"Mi esposo will say it's just me. And it's Señora Vargas. Oliver, what can I help you with?"

Fumbling through a manila folder in his hand, he sporadically spoke, "Uh…um…I need you have…well, you see I wanted…" Busted!

"Go back to work, Oliver," she directed, her voice remaining emotionless. Before he could speak again, Ana straightened her skirt, about to lead him out. The phone buzzed. "Answer that," she said to me.

"The Buenos Aires Herald, oficina de Ana Sanchez de Vargas. Isabella Swan estoy hablando," I answered.

The secretary from the front desk downstairs spoke, "Señora Sanchez de Vargas is needed in an emergency conference." She didn't bother to converse in Spanish.

Ana stopped before Oliver was out of the door, turning back to the small communication device. "¿Qué?

"Yes, they are waiting for you in the conference room."

"Sí, sí," Ana replied, a little frazzled. "I will be there un momento." She looked at me. "Um…I'll be back. Get some work done, please? I want another quality article from you."

She had totally forgotten Oliver was in here office as she fled. I tried my best to ignore him as I turned to the office computer, pulling up a word processor.

"I read your article…" he began.

"Oh yeah?" I smiled superficially, keeping my eyes on the screen. Please leave.

I typed: THINGS I NEED TO DO:

1. Get camera from dance studio.

2. Call father about final plans.

"Edward, the dance teacher, is that Ana's god son?" Oliver's voice sounded closer than before.

Yes, and my boyfriend. The guy I go home to every night. "Does it matter?"

I saw his hands on the edge of the desk. "So, it's been rumored that you're in a relationship with him…"

"I don't see how any of this is relevant," I countered tartly, cutting my eye at him.

3. Call Alice about final plans: dress and character heels.

4. Call mom???

"I think you do." When I looked up, I found myself staring into the eyes of Oliver. No depth. "You see, if the rumors are just rumors, I would like to take you out sometime."

A moment passed as I pretended not to hear him. The mouse clicked under my fingers as I brought up a search engine on the web. Take the hint…I'm not interested.

"Did you hear me? I want to take you out."

"Oh, I heard you."

"And your answer is…?"

"No."

"No?" The shock in his voice almost made me laugh. Was he not used to rejection? I guess he thought I would just give in.

"No," I repeated. "I'm seeing someone."

Oliver laughed haughtily, throwing back his head in uproar. I flinched at his strange reaction. "So, it's true, isn't it?"

I had no idea what he to what he was referring. I was about to shrug when Ana's office door was knocked on twice and then, opened, revealing my savior.

"Love, I brought you lunch," Edward said from the doorway, a medium brown bag in hand. "I wasn't sure if you wanted salad or if you were in the mood for something hot…" His eyes fell on Oliver with surprise. "…oh, I didn't know you have company."

Grinning, I rose from behind the desk, strolling between the two men. "Edward, meet Oliver—one of Ana's best journalists. Oliver, meet Edward—mi novio." I so fell in love with that word since I lived here. 'Novio' just felt so much stronger than 'boyfriend.'

Edward outstretched his right hand, followed by a terse handshake between the two gentlemen. A short exchange of hello's ended with an awkward silence. Somebody had to leave. Edward and I voted Oliver off the island.

Oliver received his cue. He sighed, tasting his defeat, thick in the air. "Well…I think I have a piece that needs a little fixing. Excuse me." With folder in hand, Oliver became out of sight…and now, out of mind.

"He was an interesting fella'," Edward murmured, placing the bag down on Ana's desk. "Don't tell me he was harassing you."

"Not anymore than you have done me," I joked, searching through the contents of the bag. When I turned around, Edward stood right in front of me.

"Oh really?" he questioned, teasing. Before my body and mind were on one page, Edward locked my arms behind my back in both of his hands, our chest touching. I could've pulled away, giggling, but instead, my body (the untrustworthy figure) froze against Edward's frame, too much heat entering my system at one time. I almost couldn't take it all.

"…Señora Vargas, I have a problem with—oh, hello." It was Dolores. She was a corpulent, middle-aged woman. She was one of the editors who worked with Ana. She loved my article and picked up right away that something was going on between Edward and me. Her eyes widened in curiosity; I think she was a little envious today.

I cleared my throat, signaling to Edward a release, but he didn't. Instead, he held me firmly in his arms. I loved his stubbornness, but this was unprofessional. "Um…hey Dolores. Ah, Ana is at a meeting right now. Is there anything I can help you with?"

A thin smile unfolded on her round face while her eyes resumed their normal size. "Isabella, I just needed Ana to look over these rough drafts. I already ripped them up, but I think the revision won't be enough. I wanted to suggest that she encourage the writers to take a different angle. Can you handle that? I see you are a little busy."

Edward loosened his hold on my wrists, allowing me to reach for the papers Dolores had. I switched the papers from my left to my right, finally, placing the red marked drafts on the desk. "Thank you. I will let Ana know."

"Sure you will," she chuckled. A few seconds passed before Edward smiled warmly to Dolores. Edward dazzled the older woman. "Hello, it is a pleasure to meet you, Dolores. I'm Edward, Bella's boyfriend." He reached for her right hand, kissing it very lightly.

A shiver rolled through her, and she started to giggle. "Edward, you are a gentleman. It's very nice to see you in person. Isabella, please make sure Ana gets those."

"I'm on it," I smiled.

After she left, Edward went back to the desk, pulling out lunch. "She's going to alert the media about your office rendezvous," he chuckled.

"It's time for them to know," I remarked, reaching for Edward's collar.

At the time, I didn't clarify who 'they' was—however, fate resolved that for me.

In his ear, I whispered, "Now, are we just going to let that be a rumor, Mr. Gentleman?"

He laughed, "What's gotten into you?"

"It's the lovebite," I remarked matter-of-factly before I laid it on him.

Sometime afterward, lunch finished and office cleaned, I went back to my list on the computer while Edward hung out, waiting for Ana to come back.

I wasn't sure about calling my mom, but I left it at number four on my list. I called my father at the station.

"Chief Swan, speaking," he answered.

"Dad," I said. I caught Edward looking over at me.

"What's the matter?" he suddenly demanded.

"Nothing. I was just checking in with you with the plans. You're coming in the weekend of the competition, right?"

"That's the plan. Forks should be fine without me for a week."

"Heaven forbid a grizzly problem sprouts up," I joked.

He laughed as well. "So, when do I get to meet the boy?"

"Edward," I filled in.

"Yes?" Edward responded.

"No, not you," I whispered to him, returning to my conversation.

"Is Edmund there with you right now?"

"It's Edward, Dad," I corrected. "And yes, he is."

"Where are you?"

"At work with his godmother, my host mother, Ana."

There was a pause on Charlie's end as he assessed the situation. "Kiddo, I just have one question to ask you—have you told your mom?"

"I want to," I answered truthfully.

Charlie groaned. "You know how she feels about being left out, Bells. Last thing I need is your mother harping me because I didn't tell her that you are in Argentina, taking up dancing again." He intentionally left out the fact that I was in relationship.

"I know."

"And why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Ch—Dad, I don't want to discuss this right now." I lowered my eyes to the computer keyboard, not wanting to catch Edward's expression.

"You know we're going to have to talk about it sooner or later, right?"

"Well, I'm considering later," I answered a little too saucily.

"Fine. I'll see you in less than two weeks."

"Bye, Dad."

"Bye, Bella."

I hung the phone up, but Edward made no attempt to question me. He just knew I didn't want to talk about it.

I was about to call Alice when Ana's door opened. She quickly crossed the room to me, holding up a magazine, a tabloid to be exact to my eyes. woman was on the front, slightly tan—not enough to make any significance—and a guy. They looked so connect and in love. They were…

"I'm on the front cover," I spoke slowly, trying to make sure the words sounded correct coming from my lips. I reiterated, "I'm on the front cover. Edward, do you see this?" He came to my side, staring in the direction of the colored photograph of us. The title of the magazine: Hottest Couple in Buenos Aires (and They Don't Live Here!)

"This is very bad," he whispered.

"No duh. I'm on the freakin' front cover. No wonder everyone is staring at me—they get to see all the leg I'm exposing." And it was a lot of it, fleshy thigh exposed from my skirt, with Edward holding me close. The look on my face was purely sensual. I knew the exact thoughts that were going through my mind at that time. Everyone knew. I just hoped my father never saw it.

"How…?" I asked Ana, not tearing my eyes from the print.

"No sé. Have you given anyone pictures?"

"No," I sighed. "I had pictures on the camera you gave me. That's it…oh, no." I smacked my forehead. All those private moments, left for the world to view. "I left my camera in the studio yesterday. I didn't think anyone would mess with it."

"Did anyone come in after you?" Ana questioned.

"No…not that I know of."

"No one really works on Sundays," Ana replied. "He was probably an undercover reporter, watching you, two for a while." She sat on her desk, flipping through the magazine. "Didn't I tell you—fastest way to ruin your journalism career is through tabloids? I have to admit…you, two, make such a lovely couple. But some of these photos…a little risqué."

"Are you serious?" I reached for the magazine and gasped at the images. "That's me…oh, my god, that's me." I started reading the story inside.

Recently, Buenos Aires has been reading up on the interesting writings of Isabella Swan, an American writer, about her experiences dancing with her partner, Edward Cullen. What she didn't tell readers was that things may be hotter on the floor than expected. From the photos, it seems Isabella and Edward have real chemistry—they're dating!…

Alice would say this was Gossip Girl major.

"What I'm going to do?" I groaned, burying my head in my arms. I heard the magazine slide across the desk surface and a page flip.

"You're going to have to beat them at their own partido. Obviously, someone is making money off your relationship. Maybe you need to just give the people what they want." Another page flip.

"And what's that?" My voice was muffled.

Ana laughed lightly. "The truth, of course."

Immediately, my head shot up, internal balance spinning. "No," I protested, my voice sounding like a moan. "I didn't want to have my personal life published for the world to view."

"¿Por qué?" she asked impatiently.

"Because…because"—my voice dropped low—"I wanted my relationship to be my own. I didn't want to be like celebrities who have their whole lives in front of the camera, documenting their every move." My cheeks reddened at the words.

"I wish I could make this disappear for you, but I can't, niña. What's done is done. You are no longer just Bella. You're Bella: La Gringa."

"La Gringa, is that what they call me?" I questioned, gesturing for the tabloid back from Edward.

Ana smiled nervously. "Yes, but not in a bad way, querida. As my husband would say, you're a celebrità."

What this the price I had to be willing to pay in order to have my name in the press, along with keeping the man of my dreams?

"So…have you decided on your plan of action?" Ana's eyes were unusually excited, showing that she was genuinely curious.

I shrugged.

"Come on, Isabella. You have to give me more than that. I'm an editor. A shrug does not produce pieces. I want another quality article. Your Argentina's favorite gringa. Write why."

I sighed. "Okay. But what do I do about the tabloids?"

"Ignore them, get your camera back, and start documenting." Ana took back the magazine. "I'll have Oliver write a piece on you to rival the magazine. Front page material. We'll use the Cuban song, except change the words—'La Gringa Tiene Tumbao.' How's that?"

I laughed a little as Ana headed for the door.

"I'll alert the floor, assigning a reporter and photographer to help you. Oliver will be happy to help."

"Oh…about that," I cut in, frowning. "Oliver and I aren't really on the best of terms right now."

"¿Perché no?"

"Please, the Italian…"

"Why not?" she huffed, rolling her eyes.

"I…I," I looked over at Edward, smiling apologetically. In a whispered, I replied, "I turned him down."

Edward's rage flashed once in his eyes, but disappeared just as fast. Instead, he rubbed my shoulders, comforting me.

"I'll take of it," Ana reassured. "Oliver will never say no to me." Somehow, I didn't want Ana to make that sacrifice for me, whatever that entailed. "When the dance couples start coming into town, I will have you interview them. I'm scheduling you an interview tomorrow. Make sure that mark is covered and you're not late."

"Got it." Ana was about to walk out of her office again when I yelled out, "Wait—Dolores dropped this off for you." I waved the drafts.

She chuckled, reaching for them.

"Welcome to the business" were the last words she spoke before leaving me.

I rubbed the blemish on my neck, as the words collected like a lump in my throat, too bulky to swallow.

Not a welcome, I thought, but a warning.

Here came the thunder…