author's note: I reward you with yet another chapter! You may have noticed that this story is not as comedic as my other Twilight stories, but I hope that won't frighten you away. ;)
When Helen had told me that they had rented me an apartment, I did not know what to expect. At best, I figured that it would only be slightly better than the hostel I had found, which was not an issue for me at all – as long as I didn't have to share a bathroom with 15 other guests.
Privately, I thought it was sort of peculiar that she hadn't told me her last name.
We arrived at Volterra late in the afternoon, the sun still high in the sky above our heads. I wasn't sure at first that it was our destination, we had already passed through so many villages at that point. All of them with the same low, brick buildings with flat or slanted red-bricked rooftops. I had seen pictures of it during my research back home, but seeing them like this up close was different.
We passed yet another tall, green hill and there, on the other side of it, was Volterra. It rose up from the ground, the whole village like one and the same building, like a large, ancient castle with a great dome at the very top. It was the same, yet different from the villages I had seen – this one looked untouched by the modern world, by natural disasters or war. It gave you the impression that it would always stay that way – indominable and out of reach.
Helen was watching me stare with awe as we arrived, smiling fondly.
"It's beautiful, is it not?"
After I had been dropped off with my bags and a key to the apartment, the sleek car drove off further up into the village. Before it had left, Helen had instructed me to wait by my door tomorrow morning, as a colleague of hers would walk with me to the office where I would be working for the next three months or so. It struck me that I still didn't know the particulars of the Volturi company, or what they did, I just knew what I would be doing – taking messages, sorting mail and arranging larger group seminars. I had tried to find out more about Volturi back home, but my internet research came up with nothing.
But it seemed silly to ask this now, so I chose not to for fear of sounding dumb. Perhaps I would find out more tomorrow.
"I hope you have brought with you something more suitable to wear." she had said with some distain, glancing at the clothes I was wearing, as if she wanted to have them burned. I was beginning to realize that Helen was somewhat of a snob. I had never worked in an office before, but I knew that you didn't wear jeans.
"Will a shirt and long skirt be suitable?" I asked. In liu of an answer, she made a disgruntled sound.
"For the time being. Tomorrow I'll have someone come and take your measurements for a more extensive wardrobe."
"Oh, that won't be necessary..."
"It is – besides, all or employees get their clothes specially tailored."
I thought that this was a little too much effort to make for just an intern, but maybe the company was so financially well off that it didn't matter. At least I didn't have to worry about wearing the wrong thing after tomorrow.
The moment I opened the front door of the apartment, I fully realized just how financially well off the company was. This was not some mere hostel room with leaks and chipping paint for unpaid interns – this was the sort of place royalty would consider acceptable. I usually didn't make a habit of swearing, but this definitely warranted a few chosen words.
"Holy shit." I muttered with awe, looking around with wide, sea-green eyes. When you opened the door, you first stepped into a small foyer – right in front of me was a coat closet, the white door gilded in ornate patterns, painted with gold. The walls were painted a pale egg-shell color, the ceiling decorated with elaborate paintings, also in frames of gold and what appeared to be marble.
The coffee table by the door alone looked expensive and antique enough that it could be placed in a museum. The wood was the color of chestnut, almost as red as my own hair. On top of it was a small blue vase, and a note -
Welcome Rebecca Somersten,
We hope that the apartment is to your satisfaction, and that you will enjoy working for us. If at any time, you have a pressing obligation or become sick, you will call the number listed on the back of this card.
The card did not have a signature at the bottom, instead there was a red ink brand – in the shape of a large V, encasing what appeared to be a weapon of arms – a symbol of nobility. It was a pretty symbol, a little intimidating perhaps. I put the note inside my calendar so I could keep the number with me at all times, just in case.
Then I went to explore the rest of the apartment, with an almost childlike sense of curiosity. It turned out that I had a whole living room, a kitchen, a huge bathroom, a bedroom and a balcony all to myself. And all of it was way more luxurious than I was strictly comfortable with. But even I could admit that it would be nice taking a bath in a tub that was large enough to swim in.
"This will take some getting used to." I said to myself, standing on a balcony that had two large pots of roses growing at each corner, white and pink. It overlooked a small courtyard, with its own well-kept garden and small fountain. An old man was sitting on a bench, reading a newspaper – and in the building across the way there was an old lady on one of the balconies, shaking the dust out of a large rug. It all looked so peaceful that I couldnt help but smile. Yes, maybe this mad venture of mine wouldn't be so terrible after all.
The next morning after a quick breakfast, as promised, I walked to my first day of work with another Volturi employee. This one was very similar to Helen, but shorter and a brunette – hair put up in a tight ponytail. She also wore a black, fitted business suit and stylish black pumps to match. Makeup perfect and minimal. This one introduced herself as Marion.
I felt a little out of place next to her, in a light blue dress shirt and maroon pencil skirt, flat ballet shoes on my feet. But it did give me an advantage walking on the cobblestones without tripping. I had managed to tame my wild red hair into submission, but decided not to put it up for fear of looking like a horse.
"You may take one hour off for lunch from noon til one o'clock, is that understood?" Marion asked me in italian without looking at me, staring straight ahead. She looked as severe as a military general.
"Yes, I understand." I answered.
"This is your first day so you won't be expected to do much – but I would suggest that you don't start by slacking."
Well, a good morning to you to. I hastily shook my head at her, frowning.
"That was not my intention at all. I have come here to learn and to work." And maybe to ask what the hell it is that the Volturi does exactly.
That answer seemed to please her, as she gave me a long, considering look.
"Very well. We have had a few mishaps in the past, and this is why I must say this. Our masters do not take kindly to lazy or inefficient employees." I blinked at her odd choise of words.
"Masters?"
"Our bosses, there is three of them. But you will not meet them today, or any other day this week. They are very busy, you understand. Only the head secretary meets with them regularly."
"Oh, I see."
After a short walk, we arrived at the building with the great dome on top. It was by the side of a great piazza, a large fountain at its center. We did not enter the building with the dome, instead we continued past the piazza and went through the heavy oak door of the building opposite from it. Right inside by the entrance, a woman was sitting behind a small desk, and she stood up when we entered, smiling politely. But there was something slightly odd about this, something that I couldn't simply ignore.
"Is everyone hired here female?" I asked carefully, and Marion nodded.
"Mostly, yes."
"Is there a special reason for that?"
"Certainly. Our Masters like to look at beauty, and they find most of that joy in women." she said, like that wasn't strange at all. I made the mistake of scoffing at that, stopping in my tracks.
"What? Are you joking?" I asked, thinking that she would laugh. But no such luck.
The answering glare that Marion shot me as she turned around told me that no, she wasn't. Moving on from the entrance, we walked down a long, dark hallway that eventually opened up at the end, revealing a large and airy room with three desks sitting in the middle of it. One of them was already occupied by a woman busy writing on a laptop. Marion led me to one of the empty desks, pointing at it.
"This will be yours. For starters, you can sort the mail – which is in the room over there." she said, pointing to a room directly connected to this one, the door standing ajar.
"Right, how do you want it sorted?"
"Priority letters in one box, and lesser important ones in another." she explained.
"What about junk mail?"I asked, and for some reason, that made her laugh.
"Oh, we do not have that problem here."
My first day as a secretary was pretty uneventful, but satisfactory in its own way. There was a lot of mail to sort through, because as Marion had explained to me, the previous intern had left suddenly due to an unexpected illness. I had very little experience working in an office, but even I knew how to sort mail – and before I knew it, the huge pile of letters was steadily shrinking, and divided up in two neat piles and loaded on a cart.
After I was done, Helen came in and took the cart away, nodding at my work with satisfaction. Noon came, and with that my lunch break. There was a small bistro a couple of blocks away, but I had packed a sandwich this morning, vowing to try out the bistro tomorrow instead. I was alone at the piazza, and I quietly went to sit down somewhere to devour my lunch. There was a bench in front of the great building with the dome on top, which was perfect. It was in the shade, which was nice, since I was still getting used to the hot sun.
I ate quietly, watching the (probably) ancient buildings surrounding me, a few piegons drinking from the fountain, the water so clear that it sparkled in the sunlight. Distantly, one could hear people milling about in the streets below, people laughing, a child crying. But other than that, the air was calm, silent.
I was so intent on these distant sounds and sights that it startled me to discover that I was no longer alone. Or rather, the sense that someone was watching me. It felt sudden and intrusive, and I resisted the urge to shiver, despite the heat.
I tried to appear casual, all the while looking around to locate the person. But the piazza appeared empty, no one else here but me. Greatly confused, I finished my sandwich quickly and shucked the garbage in a nearby bin before returning to the office.