Posted 2021-07-12; Beta'd by Eeyorefan12

When Bella woke, it was to find Edward resting next to her on the bed with his hands behind his head, fully dressed for the day but just staring up at the ceiling. Was he waiting for her to wake up?

She blinked a few times, letting her brain do just that. She'd adopted something of a morning ritual in Italy, reciting to herself any new things she'd learned about Edward the day before. She did this now, smiling to herself and thinking of the stories he'd told her. He'd admitted to her how he'd once—only once—shoplifted a magazine at age nine. He'd been caught and subjected to his mother's disappointment—which made him cringe as he'd described it. Then there was his short-lived and conscience-inspired venture into vegetarianism, which had lasted barely a week. She almost giggled, recalling his recounting of how he'd given in on the way home from school, wolfing down four quarter-pounders at McDonald's and spending the rest of that night convincing his Dad that he'd only picked up a stomach virus.

As she came to the end of these little vignettes, Bella took a moment to remind herself where she was, why, and what she needed to do to keep them both safe. It was a fine line to walk, staying calm yet alert, but she felt she was managing it better each day. Edward had even complimented her on it the day before.

"Morning." She yawned, waving her hand in front of her mouth, her body not quite caught up with her brain. "Sorry, it's not the company.

"I know." He flipped onto his side to face her. "Hi." There was an intentness in his features.

She lifted her eyebrows in question. "You look, um, ready for business."

He copied her expression and smirked, eyeing the bed.

"Not that kind of business." She rolled her eyes, but she couldn't hide her smile. "So, do you need to get to work early?"

"A little, yes. I have a few errands to run in town today, too, but I didn't want to miss seeing you, and I was just . . . thinking."

Having a think. He could think anywhere. Why here, and why now? "About what?"

He slid a hand across the covers, picking up her left one and fiddling with her fingers. "About you." He was watching what he was doing, not looking at her. "About us."

"Oh?" Just thinking my ass. This was no casual, spur of the moment conversation. She forced herself not to look in the direction of the camera.

"I was thinking about the things I admire about you. Like your sense of humor." He looked up and smiled.

That seemed like a genuine compliment. She smiled back but didn't relax. What was going on?

"And that you are incredibly smart and compassionate and kind. It was sweet of you to spend time with Sulpicia last night."

She shrugged. She hadn't minded. "I like gardens. I haven't had a chance to be somewhere long enough to have my own. The ones here are interesting and beautiful, and I've noticed that Sulpicia"—she was suddenly more aware of the camera—"seems calmer around her plants." And not near her husband.

Looking at Edward, she could tell he was mentally struggling with something. She had gotten to the point that she didn't even need to see his tells anymore—the forehead wrinkle or the tight jaw. No, at times like right now, when he appeared to let his guard down on purpose, she believed she could read certain emotions in his eyes. Of course, the wrinkle was there, too; she suppressed the urge to reach over and smooth it out, not wanting to draw anyone else's attention to it.

He hummed in agreement and shifted his hold on her hand, gripping rather than playing with it. "I love that you trust me." He pressed the palm of her hand to his mouth and kissed it, his stare intent. "I know what a gift that is from someone like you to someone like me."

The hair on the back of her neck seemed to stand up. "Ditto," she said, her voice breathy. Something was wrong—very wrong, and he needed her to trust him. She cleared her throat. "Do you, um, have plans for me to do something for you today? That requires all this trust?"

He folded her fingers over to make a fist, which he kissed on the knuckles. "No. Do your thing. But Aro and Sulpicia want us to join them for drinks and dinner tonight. There'll be fireworks to start the Republic Day celebrations. I'm pretty sure he's paid for a great display and I think he'll be disappointed if we're not there to ooh and ahh over them."

She let her breathing ease. There was nothing nefarious going on—at least not immediately. He'd have said something more specific to clue her in. Maybe this was his way of saying she was doing well? She settled on this. It made the most sense.

Stop freaking out over nothing.

"But I should get going. I'll see you before dinner, okay?" He scooted closer, sliding one arm under her and using the other to press her body to his. Her body relaxed further. She could get used to kisses like this in the morning.

And, given the way his body often reacted to hers, although she knew he tried not to let it be obvious, it seemed like he enjoyed them, too.

He stared directly at her again before hopping spryly from the bed.

Show off.

But dang, him showing off let her have a thorough look at his symmetrical physique, the broad width of his shoulders tapering down to his waist and . . . yeah, stop looking at his butt. Bella glanced away, though with something of a smirk. She could forgive him for flaunting his skills if it let her enjoy such a view.

Though there'd been nothing specific in Edward's words to her that morning, Bella found herself waiting for something to happen. On the curving roads down to Pogerola proper, she kept glancing in the rearview mirror or sweeping her gaze over the horizon, anticipating the arrival of something unpleasant.

Even Franco, Mr. I-don't-talk-and-you-can't-make-me commented on it. "You seem nervous." He held out his arm to direct her ahead of him into her preferred cafe in Pogerola.

"No, I'm fine."

Franco scowled. "I do my job well, Signorina."

She looked up at him. "I know."

"It would be easier to believe you if you appeared less agitated."

It was then that she realized he thought she was insulting his performance. "It's not you, Franco. Edward just said—" She stopped herself. It definitely wasn't wise to share more than was necessary with anyone, especially those charged with watching her. She hoped she hadn't said too much already, biting her lip.

Franco did not press for more details. He was normally good that way, usually so focused on their surroundings that she could pretend he was ignoring her.

She ordered her coffee and sat down with her book, trying to enjoy what she liked to think of as her "truly alone time". She had learned that this worked even better when she pretended that Franco wasn't there, though she never let herself forget that everything she did and said was most certainly reported to Aro. Even so, spending time outside of Aro's fortress was marginally relaxing, Franco in tow or otherwise. She liked to spend a bit of time reading and people watching over a good coffee before heading back to apply for jobs, socialize with Sulpicia and any of her visiting cronies, read, or swim.

As it was, she was halfway through her coffee when Franco came to stand beside her. "We need to go," he said quietly.

She looked up, confused. He normally ran on her schedule, not the other way around. Following his gaze, she saw two men dressed much like Franco, sporting the same burly bodies and attentive visages, walk into the front of the cafe, just a few tables away. A middle-aged man in a well-cut suit walked between them.

"Now, Signorina," Franco said urgently. In a smooth movement, he grasped her upper arm and pulled her quietly to her feet, grabbing her bag and book, shuffling her out through the back door.

She tried to cooperate with him, but it was difficult to keep up with his quick pace. He kept looking around him as they walked, one hand on her, the other at his hip—on his gun, she realized.

Once they were in the car, he muttered softly in Italian, speaking with someone through his earpiece, his speed and turns faster and sharper than she'd seen before. The direction was one she didn't recognize.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe," Franco said.

Edward's words came back to her. Was this something he'd known about? Had there been a hidden message that she'd been meant to decipher? She played over the conversation in her head, her nerves making her hop between fragments of the memory. Was she being kidnapped?

She eyed her bracelet, twisting it on her wrist and thinking about the tracker inside. "Does Edward know?" she asked softly.

"Not yet." His tone did not invite further questions.

Oh God.

Franco turned onto a dirt road, which soon curved into a stand of trees. He parked, seemingly in the midst of them, and then hurried out, taking her out of the car with a sharp, "Quickly, please."

She almost stumbled down the stairs that suddenly appeared before them, Franco catching her and helping her get to the bottom. "Inside," he whispered, still looking around. Lights flickered on as he pushed open a heavy steel door, turning and closing it with a wheel lock. She looked around. They were underground—in a bunker?

"We'll wait here." Franco led her down a concrete hallway to a plain grey door. Inside was a plush living room, doors leading off of it, presumably to other places in what she was beginning to understand was a much larger space.

"Where are we?"

"A safe location." Franco had pulled out his gun, facing away, checking it.

Yeah, that's not at all nerve-wracking.

"Why are we here?"

"Just a precaution. Nothing more."

She was pretty sure that people who were "just" taking precautions didn't need to check how much ammunition they were carrying.

"A precaution against what?" Or who? The men in the cafe? Edward?

Franco holstered his gun again, seemingly satisfied with its state of readiness. He pressed a button on his earpiece, muttering into it again in Italian. She was relieved to see it. If his communications system worked, her tracking device would too, right?

"It is an anniversary of a kind, and not a good one," he said, finally answering her question.

An anniversary? "Of . . .?"

Franco looked at her darkly.

Right. Probably not about Edward, then.

"The men we saw, are they . . . dangerous?"

"They have been," he said, moving around the room, opening and closing doors. When his phone buzzed, both of them startled a little. Franco growled a bit more in Italian and then spat out a few much more impolite words. It was easy enough to infer the feelings involved based on his tone.

"A false alarm," Franco said. His face was taut with anger. "We can go back to the cafe if you wish."

Still thoroughly rattled by whatever the hell had happened, she shook her head. "It's okay, I think it would be better just to head back." Hopefully to find Edward waiting for her.

Franco was grim during the return trip. He snapped at the men at the guardhouse, and then again at the security guard who opened the door for them. This was normally the point at which he would leave her, but he walked alongside her nearly all the way to the room. When one of the other security guards approached from the other direction, Franco mumbled his farewell to Bella and then grabbed the man by the shirt collar, dragging him into one of the alcoves, where Franco's angry words continued, only much more loudly.

Grateful not to be the subject of Franco's displeasure, she kept walking the remaining steps, pushing open the door to their room with relief.

Edward stood by the closet, looking like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar—except, his hand was in the gun safe.

"Hey," she said, "you uh, playing hooky . . . with your gun?"

"No," he said too quickly. "I forgot something." He slammed the gun safe closed and then rubbed his hand through his hair. "You're back pretty early yourself," he said, coming over to kiss her.

She surprised both of them when she impulsively threw both arms around his waist. It was the briefest of hugs—she pulled away before he had the chance to return it—but she hadn't realized how much tension she still carried from the morning's events until seeing Edward brought a swell of relief.

Edward sounded apologetic when he said, "I heard you had some excitement while you were out?"

"You could call it that." She explained what had happened, watching Edward's features fall as she did so.

He made her repeat some details, and he punctuated the end of her recitation with a quiet, "Fuck."

"I'm guessing those would be the fucking potatoes you're talking about?" She was over the shock of what had happened with Franco, but still frustrated by a lack of explanation. She didn't expect that Edward would choose to rectify that.

"Ha," he said humorlessly. "You could say that, yes. But you won't have to deal with anything like that again. I'll take care of it." He glanced at the camera overhead before he shook his head and looked at his watch. "I wasn't fully briefed, clearly. I also need to get back, but I'll be here before dinner, okay?"

"Sure."

"Oh, and"—he dug through his pocket—"I found this on the floor. I didn't want it to get lost." He held out her Claddagh.

"Thanks." She smiled with relief, remembering how the ring hadn't been in its usual place on her nightstand this morning. She'd resolved to look for it when she got back from town, but he'd saved her the trouble. She took it from him and slipped it back onto her finger.

When Edward gave her his habitual hug before leaving, he whispered, "Stay close to the room, okay?"

So warned, she kept her curiosity at bay and did as he asked, deciding to only venture out for a swim in the indoor pool. When she stepped outside of their room, she just about jumped out of her skin, finding Franco waiting for her.

"Mi scusi," the large man murmured. "Signor Cullen told me to escort you. He wanted to make sure there were no more miscommunications—like the one this morning." He scowled at this last phrase, and Bella decided she didn't want or need to know what that had all been about. Instead, she focused on enjoying her swim.

As promised, Edward returned before dinner, but much later than usual. Bella was dressed, this time in the green dress she'd worn at the Cullens. She figured that the color, one of those in the Italian flag, would be a suitable nod to the coming Republic day holiday.

After a quick peck on her cheek, he hurried to change, coming back just as she was fiddling with the clasp of the pearl necklace she'd worn once before.

"Here," Edward said, deftly hooking it on, resting his hands on her shoulders briefly.

"Thanks." She looked up at him, but he averted his gaze too quickly for her to read his expression. She wished he could—or would—talk to her about whatever was going on with his work. He seemed so much more tense than she'd seen lately.

As they stepped into the hall, Edward paused, patting his jacket. "Hold on, I forgot something." He darted back into the room and then returned with a smile on his face, one that appeared less than sincere. She could hardly fault him. She enjoyed these dinners with Aro and Sulpicia as much as she had her final exams.

Dinner wasn't in the dining room, nor was it in Aro and Sulpicia's private rooms. The staff directed them to the large balcony where she and Sulpicia had left Edward and Aro to chat the night before. She wasn't sure if it was her imagination or the day's odd events weighing on her, but Edward's arm seemed to hold her to him much more tightly than usual, especially as they walked onto the balcony.

Aro and Sulpicia were not alone. "Edward, Bella, come meet our new guests, the Bertoli's. Edward, you know Antonio."

Bella froze. The man was the same one whose presence had spooked Franco. She recovered her composure quickly, exchanging greetings with Antonio and his wife, Delia.

"In addition to the holiday for our country, tonight is something of a celebration for our organizations. I won't bore the ladies with the details, but Antonio and I have come to a most satisfactory agreement around the business that we do together." Aro lifted his glass in salute, and Antonio returned the gesture.

Edward seemed far less at ease with the situation, though she only knew this because of the way that telling wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows. She cocked her head at him in question following Aro's pronouncement, but he made the tiniest shake of his own. Nothing he could or would discuss now.

Aro and Antonio were quite busy with their intense conversation at the other end of the table. The seating pattern was a bit odd, Bella thought. Normally couples were interspersed so that they wouldn't only talk with their partners. She and Edward had been left to do so.

"For men who promised their wives no boring business talk, you're certainly discussing a good deal of it," Sulpicia said peevishly to her husband.

"That I am," he said, dipping his head apologetically. "Forgive me, mia cara. And forgive me for adding one more thing but perhaps this one will be of more interest to you. Edward, I believe you have something you wanted to say?"

Bella watched the four sets of eyes turn to Edward, who had donned a most extraordinary expression—certainly one that was new to her. "I did," he said, taking a healthy gulp from his wine glass. "Please excuse me if I spare you all the traditional singing."

Aro chuckled, but Sulpicia's jaw dropped and Delia gasped, beginning to babble in Italian. Her husband shushed her.

What the hell was going on?

She looked at Edward, feeling a bit bewildered.

The table had been mostly cleared, giving Edward space to reach across and take her hand. "We didn't meet under the best circumstances, did we?"

"God no." She laughed more nervously than the others around the table did. That night felt like years ago. She bit her lip, trying to understand where he was going with this.

"But fortunately for us, things have changed a lot since then."

They sure had. There was evidence enough of that all around them, the most crucial piece wearing a suit and sitting two people away from them. She acknowledged Edward's words with a brief nod, still puzzled.

"I love you, Bella, and I know you love me, and—"

Bella felt her eyes widen. They'd told Aro they were in love but Edward had never professed it to her publicly like this. Was there someone else they needed to convince?

"I don't ever want to lose what we have. In fact, I think it's time to make it more permanent, so—"

Wait, what?

His other hand had disappeared, returning to the table with a small velvet box which he opened to reveal a ring.

"Will you marry me, Bella?"

Time seemed to stand still. If it was true that fear could squeeze a heart, it was crushing hers now. Predictions of things to come—a neverending list of extensions needed to placate Aro and keep them alive—were colliding in her mind: walking down a church aisle, a fake home in a foreign country, children she never planned for . . .

Clearly, it was too much because in the next moment she was blinking her eyes open, looking at a very worried Edward, who was now beside her, his face inches from her own. He had his arm wound around her, supporting her head with his hand as she sat in her chair.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," she replied, blinking a few times.

"So, does fainting count as a yes?" he asked. His tone sounded teasing but there was a look of raw desperation in his eyes.

Edward was afraid. What was he afraid of? What did he need from her? There had been a question . . .

"Bella?"

He needs you to say something!

"Yes?" she croaked out.

There was laughing, a scraping of chairs, and then, applause.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Are we engaged now?

Bella remained seated, pinned there, only dimly aware of something—oh, the ring— being slid onto her finger and Edward planting a light kiss on her lips. He leaned closer to place another behind her ear. "Trust me," he whispered so only she could hear him.

Trust him?

They were here because she had trusted him. Now that decision looked like a horrific mistake, making her an unwilling passenger on a cruel, never-ending carnival ride—one that would only end with her being flung to her death.

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