Posted 2021-05-22; Beta'd by Eeyorefan12

Edward watched Bella grow more nervous as Friday wore on. By noon, she was strung so tightly she was practically vibrating. When the knock came at the door, she visibly startled.

Demetri entered when Edward opened the door, bringing in the suitcase of clothes that Bella would return home with. He passed Edward her phone, too. Bella's books were already neatly tucked into a cardboard box on the bed.

"Grazie." Edward turned on the new phone. It was already set up and fully charged. Good.

Demetri nodded and left.

"Time to go." Edward looked to Bella, who hadn't moved from her spot on the bed. "Unless you're not ready?"

She shook her head.

He debated telling her what he knew. It would reveal even more of his background, but he supposed there were enough returned soldiers from tours in Iraq and elsewhere that it didn't matter. "People who are detained or imprisoned often feel anxious about release."

"I know." She didn't sound confident about it.

"I imagine you know about it theoretically. I've seen it in action."

"Good for you," Bella muttered. She stood up from the bed, but moved no further. Her hands were nervous fists.

He couldn't fault her for her feelings but he wondered if he'd need to take charge here. "We should go," he said more firmly.

Still no movement beyond her nervous gaze towards the door.

"Nothing bad will happen to you, Bella. We're going to drive you home and leave you there." They'd discussed this already but it bore repeating now that her physiology was so agitated by the stress and anticipation. "I do need to blindfold you." He held up the blindfold, giving her the choice of coming closer or being approached.

Bella chose to take the few steps towards him, and he tied the scarf on gently and securely, grateful that it would be the last time he'd ever have to do so.

The car ride was silent. She said nothing, and neither did anyone else. Edward had borrowed his father's driver for the trip and had deliberately kept Demetri at the compound, not wanting him anywhere near Bella's apartment. The fewer people who knew where she lived, the better.

Only when they approached the city limits did Edward remove her blindfold. Even with the car's tinted windows, he didn't want to risk the sight of it sparking anyone's interest.

When Edward went over the instructions again, Bella repeated her cover story flawlessly, along with the list of things he'd told her not to talk about: where she'd actually been, with whom, or anything she might have seen. He knew it was risky to expect this, but he hoped she'd have enough primal fear to keep her mouth shut. Even though she wouldn't have any specifics to report, it was imperative that his business associates not catch wind of her story. That would definitely endanger her and possibly his family.

Jasper had already made sure they were clear of closed-circuit cameras near and in Bella's building. As they reached her door, Edward set down the box he was carrying, pulling one last item from his pocket and holding it out. "This is your phone."

"That's not mine." She didn't take it, turning instead to her apartment door.

He spoke quietly, watching her fumble to get the key in the lock. "This is your new phone. I do apologize, but your old one was damaged beyond repair when we were trying to establish your cover story."

The door to her apartment popped open. Bella nearly stumbled inside, catching herself on the handle of her suitcase.

Edward offered the phone to her again. Her eyebrows were nudged together in consternation. She didn't like this.

"The box and receipt from the store here in Boston are in your suitcase if you want to exchange it. They're dated for today, and you have thirty days to make changes. Your carrier thinks your phone was damaged on your vacation."

Reluctantly, Bella nodded and took the phone from him. Hers hadn't been damaged, but it was so old he'd been amazed she'd gotten any functionality from it. At least with this new one they could track her as needed. While it was easy enough to follow the actual phone, he didn't doubt she'd exchange it as soon as possible. No, the real tracking was in her online accounts and the apps she allowed to access her GPS. She was findable if they needed her to be.

Edward leaned down and picked up the box containing her textbooks. "Can I set these inside for you?"

"I've got it." She let go of the handle of the wheeled bag and reached for the heavy box in his arms. He hesitated only a moment before letting her take it. Clearly, he was not welcome even a foot inside the door. He didn't fault her for that.

She took a step back and then looked at him, not saying anything. Yes, she wanted him gone.

In the same moment, Edward realized that he was reluctant to say goodbye, and that he'd been prolonging the farewell far beyond any practical need. He took in a breath, his words spilling out in a rush: "You won't see me again, and no one will bother you. Good luck with your exams, Bella—and your life." He turned and walked away, as mystified by his emotional reaction as she appeared to have been by his polite farewell.

- 0 -

Once Edward had left, Bella dropped the box onto the nearby chair and closed the door. She locked and bolted it, backing away and staring at her entryway, half-expecting him to return. Her hands clenched into fists, one doing so around the phone he'd given her. She felt for the power button, turning it off.

Looking around the apartment, Bella struggled to see if anything had been changed. Merely being in the familiar space was calming, but she knew she should be wary still. She wouldn't put it past them to have installed surveillance devices. The thought made her skin crawl. She observed the space with as detached a presence as she could. The first thing that drew her attention was the carpet; it was several shades paler. She bent down, touching it, feeling by the door for the small burnt patch that had been there when she moved in. Yes, still there, but they'd cleaned her carpets. That accounted for the faint orange smell. The well-worn Venetian blinds seemed brighter as well. She reached out to touch them and found them dust-free.

"Mafia who clean your apartment." Her burst of laughter was more hysterical than humorous. "Keep your shit together," she told herself, taking in a deep breath. She was home. She was really home. She didn't trust that she was safe, but she was home, and she'd make do with that for now.

She forced herself to walk around her small apartment, trying to spot any other differences or changes. Her one plant, a sturdy jade, had been watered, but not overly so. Everything was where she'd left it, except . . . cleaner. Even her dirty dishes had been washed and left to dry on the worn rack.

After two hours of inspecting every corner and niche of her tiny home, she concluded that they hadn't installed anything with which to surveil her. Perhaps they were relying on fear to keep her in line.

Edward hadn't said anything specific about her not going to the police, but she knew that if she did, she'd have nothing concrete to show them, barring a few faint marks at her wrists, now almost healed. Those could be explained away as self-inflicted, and she didn't doubt that the trail Edward and his help had established would be well-set. The bruises had faded as well. She supposed she could describe Edward and a couple of his men well enough to a sketch artist if asked, but accusing them of kidnapping her would be difficult to prove when she was standing here relatively unharmed. No, the chance of the police finding her information useful was slim, even if they believed her. Seeking out law enforcement would also endanger her and anyone else she told her story to; she had no doubt of this, and ultimately, it was her biggest consideration.

Purposefully setting the past week behind her, Bella made a plan for the next one, starting with exchanging the phone Edward had left her.

- 0 -

Esme's embrace was a bit fiercer than usual, and Edward let himself luxuriate in it. His mother demonstrated her love in the most tangible ways—her hugs, her food, her fussing—especially when her grown children were home. She'd been delighted when Edward had returned to live with her and Carlisle the year prior, though less so when it became clear it was because he was already involved in his father's business endeavors.

"I've missed you this past week. Your father wouldn't tell me anything," she said.

"And you expected differently?" Edward asked, giving her a wink when she finally released him.

"I expected to hear something about why I couldn't see my son for almost a week, yes."

"I told you why," Carlisle said, walking into the kitchen.

His wife waved her hand at him dismissively. "'Dealing with business' is not an explanation, Carlisle Cullen. Especially when you told me he was right next door." But Esme kissed her husband. There was no ill-feeling there, only good-natured grousing. His mother understood the need for the strict separation between home and work for their family—and the necessity of keeping it that way.

"Happy to be home?" Carlisle asked Edward. He held up a beer in silent offering.

"God, yes," he said, taking the bottle and lifting it in salute.

"You did well," Carlisle said.

This would be the extent of their work conversation at home. Edward would see Alice and Jasper at dinner tonight, but while Jasper was fully involved in the organization, his wife was not. Similarly, Rosie handled the legal work for the Cullens' charitable enterprises and remained in the loop about the other side of things; her husband Emmett was focused on his personal training business and kept himself intentionally unaware.

"Do you know anything yet about dietary requirements for our guests?" Esme asked. She was flipping through a cookbook, sitting beside Carlisle. "I know they won't be here for two weeks but I'd like to start planning."

Guests? Edward looked to his father, lifting his eyebrows.

"Not yet." Carlisle answered, shooting Edward a meaningful glance and shaking his head slightly.

Not visiting friends, then. Business guests. Edward closed his eyes. He hated these types of visits. While Esme had the ability to graciously socialize with the less-savory acquaintances her husband had to entertain at times, Edward struggled. His mother wasn't naive, but she'd not seen what ugly things people could do, even what her own son was capable of, given the right circumstances. He was grateful for her innocence.

Edward nodded to his dad. They'd talk later. Smiling at his mom, he said, "I'm just going to go make sure you haven't redecorated my room in my absence. I'll be back for dinner."

Esme chuckled. "I'd need longer than a week just to empty those boxes from your last move."

Edward's "pft" was soft and he made sure it sounded good-humored. Walking away, his well-earned beer in hand, he tried to discern the reason he felt so irritable. He chalked it up to the impending visit from their business associates when he'd hoped to return to a state of homeostasis after this disruptive week. Yes, he was sure that was it.

He kept telling himself this as he walked away, the disquieting feelings still nagging at him beneath his logical denials.

FlamingMaple: Stay with me, folks. This story *is* a romance. We'll get there :-)

Eeyorefan12: *And* an adventure!

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.