Posted 2021-06-30; Beta'd by Eeyorefan12

"Bella?"

"Hmm, no, I won't be late, Dad," she mumbled and then, in a well-practiced move, flipped the pillow over her head to block out some of the light that was seeping into the room.

She heard a deep chuckle. "I am definitely not your dad."

Lifting the pillow off of her head, she recalled where and with whom she was.

"Sorry to wake you so early." Edward sat on the edge of the bed, wearing a t-shirt and shorts. "I'm going for a run."

"You weren't expecting me to come with you, were you?" The very idea made her legs and lungs ache.

"No." It looked like he was stifling a grin. "I wanted to make sure you were okay with me going. I didn't think you'd like to wake up and find me gone without explanation."

She yawned and nodded, covering her mouth with her hand. "I'm going back to sleep. You have fun pretending there are bad guys chasing you." She gasped and her eyes widened as she realized what she'd said.

"Wouldn't be the first time." He chuckled, making the bed bounce as he stood and patted the small pack strapped to his waist. "I've got it covered."

She eyed the bag for a moment, thinking she had a good idea what was in it, then looked up and caught his intention just in time, staying still as he leaned down and kissed her forehead. It was the briefest of kisses and it was over before she had time to blush. Maybe she was getting a tiny bit used to this.

When she woke up the next time, it was to the sound of the shower turning off. The bedside clock read 7:15 AM. Ugh. He was one of those people—like her mother's husband, Phil—far too chipper and energetic at ungodly hours. And what an early hour it was—2:15 a.m. back home, she realized. She hadn't known Edward to be a particularly early riser in Stockbridge—then remembered his frustration at not being able to run in the mornings. She thought wryly that perhaps Sulpicia wasn't the only insane person in this house right now. Her so-called boyfriend might give the woman a run for her money.

Edward was smartly dressed in chinos and a dark blue shirt when he emerged from the bathroom, rubbing his hair dry with a towel. As Bella headed for the ensuite, outfit in hand for the day, she wondered whether or not she should kiss him for the camera. She'd never had a romantic relationship that involved any kind of cohabitation—or one at all, really—but it seemed like something she should consider. As he drew closer, she made her choice, holding up a finger. "Morning breath. Let me go brush my teeth."

When they'd found out that they'd be going to Italy, she'd imagined days spent mainly with Edward. That had sounded difficult but tolerable then—just a repeat of the week they'd spent together but without the blindfold. Now, the realization that he would be spending much of his time working away from her filled her with apprehension. What if she said the wrong thing? And Sulpicia—sweet Jesus, the woman seemed completely off her rocker. It was daunting, just thinking of navigating hours in her company.

Edward was waiting for her when she'd finished showering and dressing for the day. "Ready?" he asked, holding out his hand.

She nodded hesitantly. "As I'll ever be." God, how did he look so calm? "How about you?"

He smiled. "For my first day on a new job? Rarin' to go." His light-hearted words for the microphones didn't match the eyeroll that accompanied them, but he had his back to the camera.

She couldn't help her nervous chuckle. "I feel like I should've packed you a lunch."

It was Edward's turn to laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure that would have gone over well."

As they stepped outside the room, Edward put his hand on her arm. "Hold on." He fished in his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. "You'll need this to go shopping." He held out his credit card.

Thinking of the previous night's dinner conversation, Bella figured she might as well have some fun. "Do I get to buy myself a pony? Sulpicia has one, apparently."

His grin matched hers, and he leaned in close and captured her hip with his hand. His breath felt warm on her neck as he planted a soft kiss there. "You can buy whatever you want, but maybe slow down after you hit fifty. And try not to buy anything that'll require a bigger plane for the trip home."

Her cheeks warmed as he pulled away slowly and she caught his smirk. Yes, he's having fun, too.

"So, um, fifty as in—thousand?"

Holy shit.

Edward smiled. "You won't be shopping at the local mall, Bella." He patted her back companionably. "Different country, social circles, and expectations. But come on, let's go find breakfast. Some of us have actually worked up an appetite this morning."

Still in shock over the numbers he'd mentioned, she carefully tucked the card into her purse, trying to picture what she could possibly buy clothing-wise that would reach or exceed that amount.

The staff directed them to a much smaller room for breakfast, where they dined alone. The view from the intimate space allowed them to watch the sun pink the nearby cliffs. Bella had never seen a view like it before and she sat quietly, mesmerized by how stunning it was. As she turned to look at Edward, she mused that the view directly in front of her wasn't so bad either, even if he was frowning at his phone.

It's not Stockholm syndrome if you're just appreciating the view, right?

When one of the uniformed staff appeared to discreetly summon Edward away, Bella looked down at her plate quickly before Edward turned her way. "Do you need anything else before I go?" he asked.

She didn't miss a beat, surprising herself. "Unless you have some extra courage tucked into your back pocket, nope, I'm all ready for my journey into Oz." With a crazy fucking Dorothy as a guide.

He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head and murmured, "Just stay calm and you'll be fine. Don't volunteer information—make people ask for it. We haven't known each other long so it's okay to have some gaps in our knowledge about each other. I'll see you later." He walked out of the room.

As it was, her fears about enduring Sulpicia's company were baseless, at least for the present. The male attendant who'd handled their luggage the day before knocked on the bedroom door at ten, telling her that a car was waiting for her. "Signora Morandi sends her apologies, but she will not be joining you today. Your driver will escort you to meet your personal shopper."

Her driver and her personal shopper?

The scenic trip to a nearby town took about 20 minutes. Her driver, Franco, parked on one of the narrow streets. "This way, Signorina," he said, gesturing that she should move ahead of him. "You shouldn't have any problems, but ignore any beggars or others who attempt to engage you. I will deal with anyone who needs more convincing." Then he eyed her purse. "Keep the strap over your arm and the bag under it. The pickpockets here are clever and quick."

Eyeing his burly muscles and scarred fists, Bella decided it would be best not to question his instructions. As he reached behind himself to tug up his trousers, his jacket pulled back to reveal a gun strapped to his side, along with several other weapon-shaped objects.

Right. You aren't in Kansas anymore, she mused, having earlier watched Edward don his holster before pulling on his sportcoat.

No one approached her as she walked, though she could see that other tourists received frequent attention from a variety of people looking to hawk tours and souvenirs. If there were pickpockets, she couldn't tell.

They walked a short way towards a glass-fronted store, its windows revealing a sparsely populated space—precisely the kind of boutique she would normally avoid for fear of being and looking out of place. She'd never been much of a shopper, and her serviceable and well-worn wardrobe reflected that. Dressed in a borrowed black skirt and red silk blouse, Bella hoped she passed muster. As it was, her fears about being looked down upon were unfounded. She was greeted warmly by her personal shopper, a tall and impeccably dressed woman named Felicia.

"Signora Morandi said you'd be needing a new wardrobe. What events will you be attending?"

Events? The word made her nervous. What did a woman who nearly passed for one herself stage in terms of events? "Um, I'm . . . not sure."

"Ah," Felicia said. "We'll assume you'll need a variety of clothes and plan accordingly. Signora Morandi did send along a suggested list."

Bella didn't know one could be wearied by merely trying on clothes, but by noon, she was ready for a nap. She and Felicia had moved from store to store, Felicia's helper carrying away the many bags and boxes Bella was acquiring. So far, she hadn't had to pay for any of them, and she was nervous about the amount exceeding the limit Edward had set. Very few of the garments she'd tried on had carried price tags, but the few that did had left her breathless and wide-eyed, if she was using the exchange rate correctly.

"Um, Felicia, can you give me an estimate on the damage for all of this?"

"Signorina?"

"Sorry," Bella said. Of course the idiom wouldn't translate. "I don't want to take advantage of my boyfriend's finances." She felt uncomfortable just saying it. She'd never had a man send her shopping for clothes before—certainly not with his American Express card in hand.

With a fifty thousand dollar limit as merely a suggestion.

"Ah," Felicia said, understanding. "Non. Signora Morandi said to put everything on her accounts. Her instructions were very specific."

Less charitable reasons for Aro's wife doing so floated through Bella's mind: perhaps the items could be returned, should there not be a future need for them. Like, if the wearer was dead.

Bella swallowed. Stop being so overdramatic. "Okay."

After a brief respite for a light lunch, Bella was flung back into the proverbial fire again. "Now, foundation garments. Wired or no?" Felicia held up several hangers of lace brassieres, underwear, and other more unfamiliar garments.

Instinctively, Bella glanced in the direction of the door to the shop, where Franco was standing sentry with his arms folded over his chest. Thankfully, he was ignoring the proceedings as thoroughly as he had all morning. "Um, I have things already—"

"Non." Felicia's tone was firm. "Signorina said you needed new things. Per invogliare your new man. To entice him, yes?"

Oh God.

By three in the afternoon, the shopping was complete and Bella was jet-lagged, exhausted, and hoping to go back to bed; she would have no such luck. With the back of the car stuffed with her purchases, Franco drove her back to the Morandi fortress. He snapped at several staff members in Italian once they'd arrived, and they whisked her things away.

Felicia had insisted Bella wear one of her new dresses on her return, as per Sulpicia's instructions. When she walked into the front hall, Bella understood why. "This way, per favore," one of the female staff said, directing her to a large suite of rooms. From where she stood, Bella heard what sounded like the cackling of several high-pitched voices. As she was ushered through a doorway, she gasped. The glassed-in space looked like a botanical greenhouse set in the middle of a posh lobby. Heavy wicker sofas ran around the room, these filled with a total of about twenty women, chattering excitedly, all of them elegantly attired as if for a formal tea.

"Ah, bellissima! Felicia did very well with you," Sulpicia called out to her. "Come, Isabella, you must meet my friends." With her hand more like a claw around Bella's arm, she steered her around the circle. Then she parked Bella on a small sofa beside a woman named Miranda. Everyone seemed to have a drink in hand, and a passing staff member quietly inquired as to her order.

"Some water, per favore."

Miranda laughed, shaking her head, then muttered something to the server in Italian and waved him away.

It wasn't water that the man came back with.

"Cosi timido. Take more than that, ragazza," Miranda chided when Bella sipped gingerly at the unidentified drink.

Sulpicia tsked at her friend. "Give our little americano some time. She only arrived a day ago. She'll be flat on her back if you push her. She couldn't even finish her wine at dinner." Then she turned to face Bella, "Not that I wouldn't mind being flat on my back with your Edward, mio caro. What position does he enjoy you most in?"

Nothing she and Edward had discussed had prepared her for this question, and Bella knew the instant blush would speak volumes before she could get any words out. She borrowed a page from Edward's playbook and took another sip of her drink.

"Sil gentile. Be nice, Sulpicia," another woman called. "You're embarrassing il piccolo puritano." A cackle went around the room. "See how she blushes."

Did she just call me a puritan?

"Have you seen him?" Sulpicia asked of the group in general. "He was the one walking the grounds with Peitro."

There was a chorus of appreciative noises, a few kissed fingertips, and some Italian words whose literal meanings were beyond Bella. Even so, she was pretty certain she could guess the general topic. As humiliated as she already was, she still felt indignation on Edward's behalf.

"Perhaps she's afraid we will want her to share," another woman called. There was another round of laughter.

"Such a treasure it is to ride a young, virile man." Sulpicia sighed over her own words.

"Or to be ridden by him," one of her friends said loudly.

"Perhaps even with a crop in hand," another said, initiating shrieks of laughter from around the room.

Bella's face felt like it couldn't get any hotter, and she tried to breathe evenly, keeping her eyes focused on a distant plant. More specific discussions of technique and anatomy were flowing freely, some of it in English, some in Italian. Her name and then Edward's were mentioned a few more times. Even with her downward gaze, she caught flickers of telling hand movements that accompanied the descriptions. The women were certainly having a good time. She kept telling herself that it wasn't at her expense, but it was hard to know, given her relative ignorance of the local language and customs. Even if it was, the subject matter was something she could make no contributions to. Despite her inexperience, she'd never thought of herself as a prude, but she felt like one now. She suspected that even her own we-can-talk-about-anything mother would be miles beyond her fancy-free comfort zone. She found herself grateful that she had the excuse of not speaking Italian. Feigning ignorance of the language was less embarrassing than admitting to this particular group just how little first-hand knowledge she had.

Eventually, the topic of conversation shifted to the party Sulpicia was planning for the following week. "Aro has kept me under lock and key here while he was away. This will be fun, and all our usual playmates will be there."

The phrase didn't make sense to Bella, but she chalked it up to being an idiomatic translation. Instead, she continued to focus on being as wallflower-like as possible, sitting still on the settee, pretending to enjoy the drink she'd been handed. It was some sort of strong and sweet cocktail, and even the few sips she'd had left her slightly woozy. By the time Sulpicia's friends began to leave, and Bella was politely able to excuse herself, she had to put a hand to the wall a few times as she walked back to the room that she and Edward shared.

Edward jumped up from the sofa when she arrived. "How was your day?" he asked, keeping his back to the camera. He looked worried as he approached her. "I was surprised to get back before you."

" Fine, I think. Sulpicia, um, wanted to introduce me to a few friends. How about you?"

"Fine, all good," he said, dismissively. Then he looked to the closet, which was full of what she'd acquired. "Things seemed to go okay on the shopping front?"

Please tell me he hasn't seen the lingerie.

"Yeah." She pulled out his credit card and offered it to him. "I didn't need it."

He took the card, frowning. "That was very generous of . . .?" He raised his eyebrows in question, waiting for her to fill in the blank.

"Our female host," she said.

"I'll make sure to thank her—and pay her back."

No, she hadn't been wrong to be suspicious about Sulpicia's generosity, it appeared. She shrugged, not sure what to make of this, and also not sure how she should react, at least for the camera.

"Are you going to take a shower before dinner?" he asked, looking towards the ensuite meaningfully.

Yes, she could use a few minutes of honest conversation. "Absolutely."

With the shower hissing away, they both leaned against the counter, Edward whispering, "Was she as unhinged as she was last night?"

"Not as much, no." She relayed the details of her day, mentioning Sulpicia's gathering but generally avoiding the topic that had discomfited her so.

He looked relieved.

"And for you?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing unexpected." His forehead wrinkled as he said it, though.

"What is it?"

He looked at her carefully, clearly considering his next words. The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. His voice remained a low whisper. "I hadn't expected the big potato fields to be so widely stretched out and poorly guarded."

Ah.

"I guess you need to find a way to keep the vermin out?" she said softly, continuing his metaphor.

"It's a big job." He ran his hand down the back of his head. "It's going to take longer than I'd hoped."

"Years? Months? Weeks?" She asked. Days? she thought, nursing a faint hope.

"At least weeks, if not longer."

Weeks. She closed her eyes, nodding.

"Bella, did anything else happen today?" he asked.

"No, it really was fine." She shook her head, looking up into his concerned face and trying to smile reassuringly. She still couldn't bring herself to tell him about the things discussed at Sulpicia's little soiree. It all seemed unimportant now that he was here with her.

His hand squeezed hers gently. There was some lightness in his tone. "Some women I know would be pretty stoked to spend some time in Italy going shopping on someone else's dime, my younger sister being at the top of that list."

She laughed a little louder than she should have, belatedly remembering to quiet her voice. "And I am definitely not anywhere on that list at all."

"Fair enough," he said, smiling. "But there is a lot to do and see here, and you're free to go where you want, so long as you're with Franco."

"You heard about him, huh?"

"I specifically asked for and vetted him."

He had? "Uh, why?"

He looked at her as if the answer to this was obvious. "To keep you safe. It's . . . different here, Bella. We're not casual tourists, and my business associations are not innocent ones."

Right. This made perfect sense as he explained it. She hadn't considered that there would be dangers beyond Aro's suspicions but she remembered now what Edward had told her the night Aro had first issued his invitation. It wasn't just her loyalty being tested here.

"Our hosts are very powerful," Edward continued in a hushed voice,"and powerful people are rarely without adversaries. It's on me to keep any of that from touching you."

Bella thought of the roomful of women around Sulpicia—her friends. Had she even been safe there? Shaking her head, she dismissed the thought. She'd go nuts if she was paranoid about everyone she met. Still, she was glad she had been careful about not drinking too much.

"I understand," she said finally. "Thank you."

He made a scoffing sound. "If anything, I should be thanking you. I know this is fucked up. I'm sorry, Bella."

He looked it, too. And why did she have this sudden desire to erase that look?

"Empty words, Cullen," she said, pushing him back playfully with her fingertips to his chest. "Buy me a pony and show me you really care."

His laugh echoed in the room, possible microphones momentarily forgotten. "Sure thing, Swan"—he pointed a finger at her in playful warning—"but you're cleaning up after it on the plane ride home."

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