Sydney paced in her bedroom. She stopped suddenly, realizing that Francie or Will might hear her and come to see what was going on.

She was scared. "An entire week with Sark - what am I going to do? This is completely insane. Why can't I just go with Dixon; he is perfectly capable.

However, she knew she was just fooling herself. Sloane wanted the best on this mission. Sadly enough, even her father agreed with Sloane this time. They needed the best and Sark and Sydney were definitely the best. The man that they were going to be cozying up to required a lot of precaution. Oh sure, she could hold her own in a fight, but Mr. Sark was the planner, and, in spite of all other feeling towards him, she truly believed that he could probably get them out of any sticky situation if need arose.

That was what she disliked. Marcus Dixon, intelligent as he was, just could not compare to one Mr. Sark, cold-blooded killer extraordinaire. It absolutely terrified her.

"Sydney? Are you feeling alright?"

She whirled around.

"Will! Hey. What's up?"

"Not a whole lot. You're not looking all that great yourself though; anything happen?"

"I'm just a little nervous about my newest trip that's all."

"You're nervous?" He said incredulously.

"Yes, actually, I am - but only a little," she added quickly.

"So where are you going?"

"We're off to Italy - for a week." She lowered her voice. "I'm going with Sark."

He visibly tensed.

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"Are you INSANE?" He burst out.

"Apparently I am. I tried to talk to Sloane, but he would not listen. He said that he trusted Sark and that I should too. You know I can't; especially after everything that has happened."

Will simply stared at her.

"But, hey, Will, maybe it will all go smoothly and according to plan. I mean, he won't try anything. Not when he knows what's going on with Sloane, who, by the way, trusts Sark enough to tell him everything about this mission before deciding to clue me in on a single detail pertaining to it!"

"At least you'll get to see a beautiful country. I mean, you don't have to spend all of your time with him. Right, Sydney?" His voice rose a little. He sounded worried; not that she could really blame him.

"That's the problem. We're posing as a newlywed couple. I am going to be pretending to be about 5 months pregnant. We'll be taking a two-week long honeymoon in Italy. We're going to leave at the end of the week because a supposed family member will conveniently get into a car accident so we will, so unfortunately, have to cut our trip short and fly back to the United States."

"Really? And the fact that you're not five months pregnant poses no problem at all?"

"I'll have to wear one of those pregnancy pillows that strap on under your clothing. Believe me, it is not my idea of a fun vacation. Thank God I don't have to be pregnant with Sark's child for real."

She laughed at the thought despite her present mood.

Will chose not to laugh with her. The idea positively irked him.

She stopped laughing when she saw his expression.

"Will? Hey. Will, relax. I was only joking. Besides, I heard laughing relieves stress or something like that."

He gave her an odd look.

"Anyways, I should probably start packing. My flight leaves tomorrow morning at 8:20am exactly."

She all but shoved him out of her room.

**************************************************************************** ******

"Are you completely prepared for this, Ms. Bristow?"

Sydney purposely ignored the question. "Remember our cover. I'm Anna Logan. Your name is Charles." She whispered to him sharply.

"Ah, yes, how could I ever forget my beautiful new wife," he whispered.

I'm blushing, she thought, mortified. I cannot believe this is happening.

"Behave yourself," she whispered back.

She felt one of his hands on her waist and barely resisted the urge to give in. To what, she wasn't really sure. Nor did she want to be thinking about it.

"Are you quite alright, love?"

"Yes, I'm fine. It's just hot out here. I need a drink. Badly."

"Relax, Sydney, it can't be that bad. Besides your pregnant remember?" He smiles softly, gazing down at the protruding replication of a pregnant woman's figure. "There will be absolutely no drinking for you."

"Oh? Just how much are you willing to bet, Mr. Sark?" She replied quietly.

"Absolutely nothing," he whispered back to her.

"So money's an object now?" She asks, her voice rising slightly.

He sighed. "Sydney, money is always an object and nothing more."

He watches her eyes widen slightly.

She sighs.

This trip was going to feel longer than she thought.

Sark steered her towards his trademark black Mercedes. "Oh and by the way, SD-6 seems to have forgotten that married people wear rings on their fingers. I took the liberty of choosing a ring for you."

He swiftly produced a black velvet jewelry box and opened it for her.

The ring was gorgeous she had to admit. It possessed an elegant looking diamond set in a platinum band, surrounded by delicate rubies.

Sydney watched as Sark took her hand in his and gently slid the ring on her slim finger. When his hand touched hers, her traitorous stomach did a flip.

She could feel his eyes on her, but she couldn't bring herself to look up and meet his gaze.

He used the tips of his fingers of his free hand to lift her chin, forcing her to look at him. "È bella," he murmured.

Then he moved his hand away. "We still have a plane to catch, love."

She realized he was right and abruptly pulled her hand away. Sark opened that passenger side door for her before calmly moving around the car to get in himself.

She sighed again. This was most definitely going to be a long trip. She only hoped she could hold herself together for the duration of it.