Posted 2021-07-24; Beta'd by Eeyorefan12


It felt like Christmas. She and Edward were in the car by themselves. They were driving away from Aro's compound. They were . . . free, sort of.

Signing the required legal paperwork in advance of one's fake marriage is hardly liberating.

Still. Free from Aro's cameras and microphones. She'd have gotten up and danced if they weren't driving.

Inside the U.S. Consulate in Naples, Bella looked around the unremarkable space. The plain tiled floor and uncomfortable chairs upholstered in serviceable fabrics screamed of staid bureaucracy, but it was American bureaucracy and, if she ever needed it to be, a sanctuary of sorts. She almost wanted to cry.

Beside her, Edward took her hand. "You okay?"

No.

"Um, a little . . . overwhelmed," she managed to whisper.

"Cold feet?" he asked, deadpan.

She snorted out a laugh that might have also been a sob, putting a fist to her lips. "Maybe."

"Hey," he said encouragingly, "at least you finally have your first passport."

That she did. Once it was decided that the wedding would occur in Italy, it became necessary for her and Edward to present their passports to the American Consulate in order to obtain the affidavit required to marry on foreign soil. It was the one requirement even Aro couldn't get around—not if he wanted the marriage to be legitimate. Despite what he'd told her in Stockbridge, Edward did have his passport with him, secreted away in his gun safe. He had then snapped a few photos of her on his phone and sent them to Jasper, who had used an expediting service to obtain a passport for Bella. It had sounded somewhat fraudulent but Edward had assured her that it was legal and aboveboard—common practice for companies doing business overseas.

As for what else Edward may have asked of Jasper, she hadn't a clue, but she assumed Edward's brother in law—soon to be hers, on paper at least— was taking care of any necessary legalities stateside. Edward had also spoken to his father, albeit on a burner phone that he had taken with him on one of his morning runs. Bella knew Edward considered none of their communications via their cell phones or his computer to be private, but as usual, he had found a temporary solution; that extra phone was most likely in pieces at the bottom of the Tyrrhenian Sea now, having served its purpose.

The paperwork and swearing of the oath in front of the consular official were simple enough, and she signed everything put in front of her in something of a daze. They were outside blinking in the bright sunlight in no time.

"Do you mind if we grab lunch before we head back?" Edward asked.

"Oh, please. We can get dinner and breakfast tomorrow, too, if you want."

Edward grinned, holding out his hand which she happily latched onto. "That eager to get back? God, you and me both."

Walking down the narrow sidewalk, Bella let her gaze wander, taking in some of the colorful restaurant signs. None of them were familiar.

"Hoping for the golden arches?" Edward quipped.

Bella laughed. "Hardly. Besides, isn't that more your thing? What was it—four quarter-pounders to break your vegetarian phase?"

He laughed loudly. "You're going to make me regret telling you that, aren't you? Do you remember every damn thing I say?"

"Pretty much," she said, proud of herself.

Edward hummed thoughtfully. "So, what's the first thing you want to do when we get you back to Boston?"

She hadn't expected the squirm of excitement she felt in her stomach at that question, and it had nothing to do with food. The sensation made her pause before answering him. "I think I'll just flop around in my oldest sweats and favorite t-shirt and eat take-out on the couch. Without anyone watching."

There was that chuckle again, and a broad grin. "Yep. I can relate. I kinda felt that way when I got back home from . . . the service." His smile faltered a little, but he put it back in place, though not quite as genuinely as before. "Maybe after you've had your fill of pizza and Chinese food, I can take you to dinner in Boston. I mean, if you want."

"I'd like that."

"I'm sorry you have to stay there for a while," he said, his tone apologetic. "I'm still working on that."

"I know." They'd talked about this before and she understood the logic of it in cementing their story. Even though she and Edward wouldn't live together, they would need to be in close proximity at first, just in case Aro checked up on them. Edward could be in Boston in two hours, if it became necessary. And his family was going to pay for an apartment for her there, at least temporarily. While the idea of not going home to Washington had initially saddened her, it was growing on her. She might be able to use her connections with the shelter to get a job in her field.

As they approached an intersection, a row of interesting shops on a street they were passing caught her eye. Bella tugged at Edward's hand, trying to steer him toward it.

"Uh, no. Not that way," Edward said. He lifted his chin in another direction.

"Why not?"

Edward walked them a ways away before answering her question in a lowered voice. "You notice that we're more alone than usual?"

"Sure."

"That's because this part of Naples is Contini clan territory. While we're supposedly just two Americans coming to get our wedding paperwork done, us arriving with Aro's men in plain sight would make us a target."

"But Sulpicia comes here—"

"Sulpicia is off-limits. No one touches a wife—especially not a boss's wife, not without an expectation of all-out war. You and I, though? We'd be fair game, especially given what I'm here in Italy to do—and who I'm doing it for."

Though Aro's men had tailed them in another car, she didn't see them now. Edward had explained that they would keep a significant distance here, close enough to intervene in only the most serious situations. She could understand that he didn't want to unnecessarily precipitate one. However, his cautiousness did make her uneasy.

She looked back the way they'd come. "So . . . we're safe, then?"

"As safe as can be expected for any tourist." He paused at the corner, scanning both directions. "Although I did have to leave my gun in the car."

Ah yes, for the metal detectors at the consulate. She had to admit, Edward looked a little disconcerted about being unarmed.

"Do you want to go get it?" She really hoped he didn't, despite what he'd just told her.

He shook his head, keeping his voice low. "We're anonymous enough to be safe on that front. Anyone else who's stupid enough to try anything won't get very far."

They were still holding hands and he tightened his grip, probably unintentionally, as he said this. When their forearms brushed up against each other, she noted the flex of his muscles and decided that his opinion was not an overestimation. He might not be burly like Franco, but she had no doubt about his physical strength or ability to subdue someone. She certainly had enough firsthand knowledge of it.

She furrowed her brow slightly. So why avoid the street she'd suggested? "And that particular street?" She looked back in the direction they'd come. Perhaps it had been marked in some way she hadn't known to check?

Edward slid his arm behind her, guiding her past a narrowing in the sidewalk. They were moving towards one of the larger commercial areas. "That one's more of an alley, and I'd prefer to avoid them while we're here, just to be safe. The crime rate isn't exactly helped by the presence of . . . people like our host, and tourists are pretty lucrative and easy victims—not that you'd be in any danger, but I'd prefer to avoid the possibility of encountering anything like that."

Despite the seriousness of what Edward was saying, she grinned. "Wow. I never thought I'd hear you express reservations about an alley. I thought you were rather fond of them."

"You wound me, Swan."

He looked more amused than wounded to Bella.

Without breaking his stride, he glanced sideways at her. "Since we're talking about alleys, though, I do have a question about the night we met."

"Oh?" Bella let Edward guide her out of the way of an oncoming pedestrian.

"You made me an offer in that alley. What would you have done if I'd taken you up on it?"

She laughed nervously, knowing exactly what he was referring to. It hadn't been her cleverest moment. "Ah, my offer. Well, I hadn't thought that far ahead at that point. Probably tried to knee you somewhere ouchy and then get away?"

Edward paused their walk now. "You do know that guys instinctively watch for that move, right?"

"Even ones who've been propositioned by girls in alleys?" She lifted an eyebrow in inquiry.

"Even them. So don't rely on that technique to defend yourself." He frowned, threading his fingers through hers again and resuming his walking pace. "I really do need to teach you some self-defense."

"Given my track record for meeting shady guys in alleys, probably wise."

Edward chuckled and she was pretty sure he rolled his eyes.

They were into a more tourist-friendly part of the city now, having passed a number of hotels and restaurants with signs in both English and Italian. "Does this look okay?" Edward asked. Bella followed his gaze to a minimalist-looking restaurant with high ceilings and stiff-looking waitstaff.

It looked intimidating as hell. But if he was worried about safety . . .

"Sure."

Once they were inside and staring at the confusing menus, Bella sighed to herself. She had enough of the language now to know at least what the main part of each dish was, but not much beyond that. Edward, however, was able to translate for her and then order, not only in comprehensible Italian but with a convincing accent.

"You've been working on your Italian," she commented, once the waiter left.

"Kinda hard not to, being around it all day." He gave a shrug. "But apparently, I have an"— he made air quotes with his fingers—"aptitude for languages. It's how I wound up in counterintelligence." He picked up his glass and took a sip of his water, looking embarrassed. She wondered if he'd said more than he meant to.

"How did you find that out about yourself, the language thing, I mean?"

He swirled the liquid in his glass, then took another sip, not really looking at her. "Uh . . . there are tests the military gives you when you join up so you know the jobs you qualify for. My scores were . . . well, after my first deployment, when I made corporal, I was recommended for CI. You have to take the DLAB, sorry, Defense Language Aptitude Battery to do any kind of intelligence work and I guess I did okay. They sent me to California for immersive language training and then . . . " He focused his eyes on hers. "This can't be very interesting for you."

"Are you kidding?" she said, grinning at him. "You were just getting to the good part! So, language school, huh? What was it, Cullen? French? Swedish? Swahili? Just what language did you learn, hmm?"

"Arabic."

Oh.

Wow. She realized that she had been provided with a very big piece of the Edward Cullen puzzle she was still working on. She remembered that conversation on the stairs when they were in Stockbridge all those weeks ago and his reluctance to discuss his duties when he'd been deployed. Sometimes I was responsible for extracting information from people who were reluctant to share it. Wherever he'd been, he had needed to know Arabic. If the timeline in her head was correct, this would have been in the early part of the Iraq War. She also recalled how Edward had rushed to assure her that he hadn't done things like what she'd been thinking—that he hadn't been involved with the atrocities on the part of some military personnel that had made headlines, but he'd known about some of it.

Oh, Edward.

She saw that he was still watching her, probably waiting for her to put all of this together, to figure it out and to—what? Judge him?

No. She hadn't known this man long but there were certain things about him that she knew to be true and one of them was that he was a kind and principled person. Whatever duties he had needed to perform as part of his military service, even the ones he might have considered distasteful, she knew without a doubt he had performed them honorably and for the right reasons. Now she just needed to extricate them both from the rabbit hole into which this conversation had fallen.

"So," she said, keeping her voice casual, "should I call you Corporal Cullen?" She peeked up at him teasingly.

"Master Sergeant, actually. " He was smirking at her now, but there was a look in his eyes that she thought might be relief. Maybe even gratitude.

She scrambled for another subject to bring up.

"So, um, what are you doing for . . . your current employer?" she asked, thinking of his earlier comment. Of course, this made her re-think asking the question in the first place. "I mean, in really general terms . . . or maybe, you know what, never mind." What a stupid question! They were obviously out of earshot of Aro's men, and Edward had carefully checked her bag, himself, and the car they were in for bugging devices, but still—duh!

Edward shook his head. "It's okay. I'm doing a few things, but the biggest one is working on his overall security. It's essential to what we do on our end, and it should be here, too, but . . ." He sighed. "Let's just say that I still have a lot of work to do. Attitudes here are . . . lax. It doesn't help that his technology and programming are 20 years out of date and he runs things like it's 1984. And yes, I mean that in both the literal and figurative sense."

Bella felt a stab of empathy. What a job. "That sounds frustrating."

Edward laughed uneasily. "You have no idea." He rubbed his face with his hands.

Yep. Very frustrating.

"Is this getting in the way of doing that?" She tapped her ring as she asked. He'd lose a day with all this.

"No," he said quickly, reaching over and laying his hand over hers as if he thought he'd offended her. "Not at all. I consider today a very welcome break."

Why did that make her feel good? The touch of his hand. His reassurance. This was all fake. Remember? Fake? Those feelings you're having and letting grow? Dangerous. "You know, it's okay, Edward. It's, um, not like this is real."

"I know," he said, giving a little shrug. "But despite the fact that you tried to break my toes when we met"—he winked at her— "I actually like spending time with you, Swan. You've got a good sense of humor. You're a great listener. Also, let's face it, it's kinda nice to not be watched or listened to. You seem more relaxed. I know I feel more relaxed."

She nodded, smiling a little. He hadn't let go of her hand. She liked it. She liked it even more when he began to play with her fingers. "I am," she agreed. "I feel more myself than I have in a while." Playfully, she added, "And it's handy, you know, having a friend who's former military to hang with so I don't have to worry about getting mugged in alleys."

Edward cocked his head to the side. There was a beat of silence during which he studied her closely before looking down at the table in front of him.

"Are we friends now, Swan?" he asked, peering up at her from beneath his eyelashes. "Not so long ago I was, in your words, a 'thug'." His words were teasing but his tone wasn't—not really.

"Yeah, don't add jerk to the list by pointing that out, okay?" Two could play that game.

"Wow. You didn't even blush when you said that."

"Shut up." She was pretty sure the missing blush was back, if the heat in her cheeks was any indication. "You're on thin ice here."

Edward hadn't let go of her hand. "Point taken." His smile was back. "And I suppose I should get to know a little bit more about my friend then. Why don't you tell me what the real Bella Swan is like when she's not sneaking around in dark alleys and faking relationships in Italy?"

She chuckled. "Not that exciting, I'm afraid. Bookish, I guess."

Edward pressed his glass to his mouth as if to take a drink, but then pulled it away, pointing at her. "I'd bet good money you're a hell of a lot more than bookish."

She wished she was. "And are you a betting man, Mr. Cull . . . oh, sorry, Master Sergeant Cullen?"

He smiled and shook his head as he set his glass down. "Unreformed and unrepentant—but only with family."

And just what does his family bet on?

Edward's smile faded slightly. "While we're here, we should do some shopping."

Much as Bella didn't like shopping, she hadn't gathered that Edward felt the same way. At least he and Jasper had seemed to know their way around Bloomingdale's. "And that makes you frown because . . .?"

"For Saturday," he said softly.

"I had the impression that Sulpicia was pretty much handling everything." About the only thing Bella had had a hand in choosing was her dress—and barely that.

"I think one of us still needs a ring." He finally released her hand and held up his bare fingers. He waggled them at her, smirking.

Right. For him. "Of course."

"It would be nice if it fit," he added lightly. "Less embarrassing when you're trying to put it on me."

"Ah." She took an uneasy sip of her water. "I can see that."

"There are gifts, too, that we're meant to exchange."

There were? "Like?"

"Cufflinks are fairly standard from the bride, and a necklace from the groom, or earrings."

"Wow, here we are, all sad and depressed over jewelry shopping. At least that part's real."

Edward's laughter made his shoulders shake. "You know, we should go buy something completely ridiculous—not obviously ridiculous, but something that we can both look at and know we're flipping the bird at Aro."

"I'm in, Cullen." She extended her other hand so that they could shake on it.

One lunch and three jewelry stores later, their purchases were complete. "I am never going to look at a potato the same way again," Bella said. "Or, apparently, beetles."

"It is a very specific kind of beetle," Edward said, taking her hand to help her up into the passenger seat of the SUV. He'd googled it when she'd asked.

"The Colorado potato beetle is henceforth my favorite pest ever."

Edward chuckled, pushing the key into the ignition. "What're you going to say when someone asks why you have a beetle pendant on your pearl necklace?"

"That I'm into bestiality?"

Edward burst out laughing, practically folding himself over the steering wheel. When he straightened up again, his expression was full of mirth. "Sure. And when you die of mortification uttering that word to anyone but me, then what?"

"I'll pretend that I got swindled, saying that I meant to buy a scarab—for my necklace and your cufflinks. I won't have to pretend to be embarrassed. That's like, my default state."

Edward turned over the ignition, stretching his arm out behind her and reversing out of the parking spot. "A scarab? Like in those Mummy movies?"

"It's actually a dung beetle."

"Oh, that'll be even better." He grinned, shaking his head.

"Hey, a girl can like her dung beetles." She waited until he was done paying for parking and exiting the lot to continue. "They're pretty important in Egyptian culture—well, ancient culture anyway. They represented immortality and resurrection."

"Shit bugs? Seriously?"

Bella paused to admire the ease with which Edward managed the seemingly insane traffic. She was appreciative that she didn't have to drive. He pulled into the narrowest opening between cars, completely unfazed by the honking behind him.

"Appropriate, though," she said. "We are just shitting Aro after all." She manufactured a grin.

She was pretending, she reminded herself. All those nice warm feelings Edward inspired were just a nice add-on to this literal shit show.

"That we are," he said after a moment.

She wasn't sure if her interpretation was colored by her own emotions, or if she'd read Edward correctly, but the way he'd hesitated before agreeing with her didn't make him sound all that certain.

"On to the shit show, then," she murmured.


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