Thank you so much to everyone for reading my story!

This chapter was edited by BeLynda Smith.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or its characters. Thank you for Stephenie Meyer for letting us play with them.

He was all business in the office just as he had promised, never once making a move to come closer than was necessarily essential for us to accomplish our jobs. At the end of each day, he called me into his office and sat across from me in the masculine room, the dark wood of the paneling surrounding us.

"Are you free again this evening?"

Fear made me keep my distance from Mr. Cullen during the day, but curiosity made me say yes every evening when he asked the question. He was inexplicably a completely different person outside of the office and in that dining room; deep and serious as usual, but also funny and charming - almost boyish. I couldn't understand who he truly was or what the point of his scheme was. I couldn't understand why it even mattered if he was seen in public with me.

I was no one.

We would sit across from each other at an elaborately decorated round table, attending a dinner that neither of us ate, while he peppered me with questions and pretended to be interested in my answers:

"What's your favorite color?"
"If you could live anywhere on Earth, where would it be?"
"Do you remember your mother? What was she like?"

"Green," I'd said, my face feeling hot.
"Forks, Washington. It was the only place I'd ever felt at home."
"Not really. I remember her crying and yelling a lot. She had hair that wasn't blonde, but wasn't brown either. She liked whiskey." I'd also remembered that she'd never liked hugs or kisses and that she'd once left me alone for two days with nothing to occupy my time but an old rag doll and the roaches in the corners of the hotel room where we lived, but I'd kept that to myself. A man who kept so many of his own secrets didn't deserve to know all of mine.

Even though I knew that it was an act, it was still nice to not be alone. To have someone even fake an interest in my life for such a small moment every day was flattering; preposterous, but flattering.

It was almost easy to forget sometimes, when his handsome face was so close to mine, that there were ghosts hiding in the shadows of my memories, waiting to eat me alive.

None of it was real.

I'd determined, after my first embarrassingly hysterical reaction, that I'd made it all up in my head. I hadn't escaped from that tragic night completely unscathed. It was a normal reaction, after all of this madness that I was now living in, to let my fear sometimes take over all rational thought. A piece of me had died that night along with my father. The extraordinary stress that I was living with had just brought it all back. It worried me that those fears were beginning to take over all of my life and not just the hours of the night that I was alone in the dark with my nightmares.

At the stroke of midnight, just like Cinderella's coach, my prince of a date would turn back into a pumpkin (or perhaps that was my function) and the rest of the night would be spent in heavy silence as he dropped me at my door. By the end of the second week, in my closet hung six different shades of green, five red, three white, and one gold. They were beautiful and glittering and depressing.

If there were any doubt of whether our evenings together meant more than just another complicated part of my job, the question was answered with my next paycheck which had doubled in amount. I was making far more than a normal secretary should be making. After two weeks, he stopped asking. He never kissed me or asked me to dance again.

I told myself I was glad.

Glenn Miller's 'Moonlight Serenade' played softly in the background, and I hummed along to it while sorting my paperwork. Mr. Cullen had decided to put a radio in the office, an added luxury that many people couldn't afford to have in their own houses.

"Is this a good idea?" asked Emmett, when the delivery man pulled into the waiting room with the monstrous equipment strapped upside down to a dolly.

Mr. Cullen shrugged. "We need some music in here."

I could barely hide my excitement when I saw it being wheeled in. It was one of the prettiest radios I'd seen, made of solid cherry with inset carvings in the front and sides. The large dials and speakers placed in front seemed almost an afterthought to the rest of the piece, which stood on four spindly legs that looked as though they'd collapse at any moment. Yet they stood tall and sturdy, a true sign of excellent craftsmanship. He placed it in in a corner of his office along with a large potted plant and a plain metal filing cabinet, as if those two things would disguise the large, ostentatious piece of furniture. The office door remained open for a change, and the radio played throughout the day, only to be turned off during the times that he was expecting a client.

I spent my first two hours of work trying to not dance in my seat while listening to local bands; the third hour was spent not typing while listening to the ongoing saga of 'Our Girl Sunday,' the story of a woman from a mining company who had married a wealthy British aristocrat. The fourth and fifth hours, I sniffled through 'Little Orphan Annie' feeling very connected with the poor little girl who had no parents to call her own. But the sixth hour I sat silent, listening to a familiar waltz while I tried my best to not think of the feel of his lips on mine and his soft hair beneath my fingertips.

Admittedly, it was very distracting.

"Bella?"

I jumped when his hand touched my shoulder, several papers spilling near the newest vase of white flowers.

"Sorry!" I bit my lip and looked down at my feet.

"Do you have a minute?"

I nodded mutely and followed him into his office. He closed the door behind us and clicked off the radio as he walked past.

"Carlisle wants to meet with you," he said as he sat on the edge of his desk.

"Why? Am I doing something wrong?" I swallowed the large lump in my throat.

"No, not at all. The opposite, actually," he quickly added, "You can say no." I waffled for a while, my eyes drifting from the window, to the desk, to the dark stain on the floorboards, and my answer slipped from my lips before I'd even considered the possible consequences.

"No."

His eyelids dropped and I caught a brief flash of a smile before he was back to his normally stoic self. "Very well. I'll let him know."

To my surprise, he picked up the phone, his long fingers dialing a number.

"Hello?" he said into the talking piece of the phone, turning his back to me. "Yes, I did. She said no."

I held my hand out, wanting to tell him I'd changed my mind. He turned and saw my wide eyed expression and had the audacity to wink.

I watched, frozen, as he finished his conversation with a lot of yeses and mhhms. At the end of the conversation, he closed with, "Love you, too." and hung up the phone.

I watched his face, waiting to see what he would say.

"I'm afraid you'll have to come to dinner anyway."

"But-"

"I said you could say no to Carlisle. That was Esme." He smiled widely then, a glimpse of the man that I'd seen many times before at Bella Italia.

"We never say no to Esme."

By the time 6:00 came about, I had taken a quick bird bath to wash the sweat of the day from my skin, and brushed and pinned my frizzy hair back into place. With the heat and humidity there was no true feeling of clean, but at least I smelled better and looked less disheveled. I barely had time to slide one of the darker of the green dresses over my head before I heard a knock. I quickly slipped on my shoes, pulled open the door, and gawked in surprise to find my boss standing there.

Normally the quintessential businessman in a complete three piece suit with a tie, it was somewhat startling to open the door and find him in a simple pair of tapered slacks and a long-sleeved white shirt. The well-cut shirt accentuated his broad shoulders and strong arms and torso, the color striking against his dark auburn hair. For a split second I was in awe of just how beautiful he was.

"You're not Jasper," I said stupidly, fumbling with the buckle of my shoe. Though Mr. Cullen had always walked me to my home at the end of our evenings, Jasper was always the one who came to my door to fetch me.

"No, are you disappointed?" he asked as he knelt down to help me with my shoe. The gesture was far too familiar, but I attempted to laugh it off along with his question.

"I'm overdressed," I said as I he held open the door for me.

"Not at all. Esme and my sisters will be dressed similarly, I'm sure."

Edward drove, for once, and the car ride was silent; comfortably so. When he finally spoke, we were well on our way out of the city, farther than I'd expected. In my imaginings of the great Carlisle that everyone seemed to know - but I had never laid eyes on - he seemed like some sort of crime lord deity. I'd pictured him living in the highest apartment building in the middle of the city, where he could dictate his every whim by opening his windows and throwing coded letters and money in any general direction. The thought of him living in the suburbs away from the manic activity of the city somewhat deflated my mental image.

"There's something you need to know about Esme," Mr. Cullen said, breaking the silence as he shifted gears in the shiny model T. "She doesn't know anything about the business or what we do."

"How is that possible?"

"You are a rare bird, Bella. Not many women are privy to that information. In fact, in our family at least, you're the only woman who knows."

How lucky for me, I thought bitterly to myself.

"She's a very intelligent woman, but I think she sometimes sees what she wants to see. It's much easier for her to swallow the notion that her family has been extremely fortunate in business." A muscle in his cheek twitched as he muttered, "Also, Carlisle is a very good liar."

HIs sharp tone when he said his father's name was surprising, but I pretended that I hadn't heard it.

"What do you tell her you do?"

Edward cringed, "She knows the cover story that everyone else does. We own restaurants."

"In a city where a lot of people are starving."

He nodded in reply.

Gravel crunched beneath the car's tires as we pulled up in front of the largest house I had ever seen. Their home was a mansion, a masterpiece of glittering light and white stone. Large arches stretched across the front of the building, accentuating tall windows that were flooded with light. I could see a crystal chandelier hanging centered behind each one, spilling colors of yellow and gold out into the otherwise dark night. From my view limited by the car windows, I could only see pieces of the massive home, which I was certain was the type of place that was so large it had wings and servants and things brought to you on large silver trays.

Mr. Cullen walked around the car and opened my door.

"What do you think?" he asked, his voice clipped and sullen.

"It looks like The White House. It's beautiful."

Beautiful was an understatement. Outside of the car windows, it looked like a dream. As we walked closer, I could see inlaid carvings in the marble along the front walls. If the outside was this magnificent, I couldn't even imagine what the inside looked like.

"I suppose this is every girl's dream house," he said.

I chewed my bottom lip and thought for a moment. "I don't know. I'd hate to clean all of those rooms."

He laughed loudly and said, "If you think the lady of the house is the one who does the cleaning, you are very mistaken."

"Well, in that case…" I began and then said, "No. I don't see the point in it. Why live with people if you're going to be so far removed from all of them?"

I realized my error when his eyebrows raised in response. "I'm sorry if that was the wrong thing to say. This is your home, and I'm just… I don't always think before I speak. I'm so sorry."

"No," he said, "You're right. In these big houses no one knows the people or what goes on in them." A dark look washed over his face and I looked away.

"I don't live here. I haven't for a while."

He placed his hand on my elbow and led me up the many steps, his touch oddly welcoming as I made my way to finally meet my pseudo, murderous, crime family for the first time.

It was all a fairy tale: a glittering, opulent fairy tale, and I didn't fit. I felt awkward and out of place. The table was set with fine china, and I was afraid to touch it. There was more food than I'd ever seen in one place before - certainly more than the eight of us in attendance could eat - and it made me feel guilty. The crystal wine glasses only held water, which made me feel like a liar. I was being entertained in Esme's beautiful home, and we were all keeping secrets from her.

I liked her immediately. As soon as she saw us walking through the door, she began to make a fuss, giving me a giant hug. She was genuine, which from what I had seen in my somewhat short life, was a rare and wonderful thing.

She seemed to be a very sweet person, and I wondered how they lived with themselves knowing they were constantly lying to her lovely face.

As soon as the introductions were over and we moved into the enormous dining area, I looked at each of their faces: Jasper, Emmett, and Edward, who all were looking as though they were distracted, solemn - like children who had been disciplined. Perhaps they felt guilty after all.

I noticed Emmett taking the hand of Rose, who sat beside him, and wondered about their relationship. I had assumed that Rose was their sister, but the way she looked at him with such loving adoration said otherwise.

Alice sat directly beside me. Her hair hung limply in her face and down her back in a somewhat tangled mess. I wondered why no one else seemed to notice. She was small and thin, but unnaturally so. Her pale blue, sequined dress hung on her like a beautiful sack. She stared at the plates of food that were put in front of her as if they'd offended her somehow.

"Carlisle is late again. I'm so sorry, Bella. You can go ahead and eat. This is just the way it is at dinner time."

Edward's cheek twitched again, and I noticed Jasper looking at Alice for a long moment before settling into his plate. How many secrets did this dining room hold? It seemed the air was thick with the weight of them all.

Carlisle walked into the room just as we were finishing the first course. He was relatively small in stature, only a couple of inches taller than I was, but his presence was larger than life. I had expected him to be older, but his pale blond hair was full and thick and he had the clearest blue eyes I'd ever seen. He looked for Esme first, a wide smile alight on his face as though he was glowing from the inside and I envied them. I wondered what it would be like to have that kind of connection to another person, the kind where you seek them out before even noticing anyone else, even after long years of marriage.

"Carlisle, Edward brought a guest. This is Bella," she said gesturing toward our end of the long table which was far too large for hand shaking, and I was thankful. I didn't like the way he looked at me, as if those blue eyes could see right into my insides and find all of my secrets.

"Bella," he said, nodding toward me. "It's a pleasure. I'm glad you could join us."

"Thank you," I said quietly.

Another lie. Half the table knew that I wasn't here because I was invited by Edward.

"Edward, you're dressed very casually this evening." Every other man in the room was dressed in formal dinner attire: vests, ties, and jackets.

"Yes, it's the way things are done now," he said from beside me with no expression in his voice. Both Jasper and Emmett winced.

I noticed Alice flinching slightly beside me, and I wished I could pat her hand. Or maybe throw my arms around her. Had Torrin done this to her? The more I looked at her, the more I hated him. Edward had said he'd attacked her. My heart felt sick at what that statement meant.

Had she gone to her brother with her story? Is that why he'd killed the man? In a perfect world, the right thing to do would have been to contact the authorities and let them handle things. But it would have been her word against his. And in court, with a male judge, the word of a female against such a successful businessman would have certainly made the scales tip heavily in his favor.

"Where are you from, Bella?" asked Esme, diverting my attention.

"Washington State," I said, swallowing a bite of food.

"Ugh, Washington," Emmett murmured. Carlisle, Jasper, and Edward stopped what they were doing to look at him, but their expressions gave nothing away.

"You've been to Washington?" I asked, my voice a little too high. I was just so excited for a moment to have anything in common with any of them.

"Uh, yeah. Once." he said hurriedly. "Lots of trees."

I laughed. "Yeah, we're known for that there. Lots and lots of trees. In some places, the trees grow so tall, you can't even see the sky."

"It sounds lovely." Esme said. "So, Bella, where did you and Edward meet?"

I faltered and thankfully Edward jumped in.

"In the city," he said, not elaborating. I could see that she'd expected some sort of romantic story and she looked disappointed.

"And where is your family, Bella?"

"They're no longer living," I said.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Well, it's a good thing Edward found you. We have enough family here to go around."

Indeed.

She meant it as a kind gesture, I was sure of it. As I looked from face to face, I could see that everyone else was pretending to not have heard her. Jasper met my gaze and smiled slightly in apology. I smiled back.

"Carlisle tells me you two have been seeing a lot of each other lately."

Esme was beaming.

I could feel my face flaming, and I glanced over at Edward. "Um, yeah. We went to an Italian restaurant a few times."

Fourteen. Fourteen times. Fourteen dresses, fourteen nights of questions, thirteen dates where I sat in anticipation wondering if he was going to kiss me again.

"Italian?" she said, looking shocked. "Edward, you hate Italian food!"

Jasper and Emmett snickered, making me smile.

"You must really like her to take her to eat pasta."

"Mother," he said, "How are you flowers faring? I hope the heat hasn't ruined them all." He slightly nudged the fork that I was to use next as the Cullen's servants brought out the main course.

She laughed and set down her water glass. "Alright, fine. I have overstepped, and I apologize. It's just...you're the first girl he's ever bothered to bring to my table - okay, okay, I'm finished," she said laughingly in response to Edward's sudden mocking death glare. It was moments like this that I wondered what part of him was show and what was real. He obviously loved his mother very much. I wanted to be able to hold onto this particular moment and compare all of his other moods to it.

I was dwelling far too much on my boss and his mood swings.

"My flowers are fine," she said. In fact, the garden looks really lovely in the moonlight. Why don't you two go take a walk after dinner?"

Incessant. That was my new word for Esme.

It was clear she thought I was Edward's girlfriend. Torrin had called me his "tomato." Did everyone assume we were together? Despite saying she was "done," she kept asking questions about us, about our dates. Edward was kind enough to not leave me answering the questions, and he gave his mother enough information to make her happy while holding all of the ugly details back. He'd said that Carlisle was a good liar, but he was definitely a master, as well. I realized he'd done the same with me: only handing out the information that he thought I needed to have. Why did I still think he was somehow a good person?

Esme eventually moved on to everyone at the table, asking about their day, their interests, gazing at them all with loving eyes.

"Alice," she said finally, a soft tone in her voice, "How was your day?"

"Fine." It was all she offered, and a long pregnant pause followed.

"My dad liked flowers," I said, surprising myself. My interruption seemed to be well received from both Alice and Esme. "He used to plant rose bushes all over his yard."

"Oh, roses, how lovely. What variety?"

"I'm not sure," I said, suddenly wishing I knew. "I was young when I lived with him, but he treated them like babies. He used to tend to them several times a day." It was a long ago memory, but one I'd never forget; my big, manly father and his love of flowers.

"That's odd," she said. "Normally roses, once they've grown into maturity, don't need a lot of tending."

I shrugged. "I don't know. I've never tried growing anything, myself."

"Oh, well, you should! It's a wonderful hobby. Very relaxing. With all the stress in the world, everyone should have a hobby."

I smiled and told her that maybe I would. It appeared my new hobby was lying to people's faces.

My boss thankfully saved me near the end of the night, telling Esme he'd take me on a tour of the garden. I glanced over at Alice who had yet another full plate of food taken away by a servant, and a wave of hate for James Torrin flooded over me once again.

Carlisle also stood to leave.

"Is everyone skipping dessert?" asked Esme. "I had the chef make something special for you."

"Sorry, dear." Carlisle said, kissing her cheek. "I have business to attend to."

"So late?"

He nodded. "We're having some trouble with one of the south side restaurants. I need to make some phone calls. Good evening, everyone. Bella, it was nice to finally make your acquaintance. I hope we'll be seeing more of you in the future." I smiled slightly, unsure of what I was supposed to say. I hoped I'd never have to see him again.

I breathed a small sigh of relief. I'd had the idea in my head he'd wanted to speak with me one-on-one.

Everyone murmured polite goodbyes to him as he began to walk away from the table.

Before he left, he looked toward my fake dinner date. "Edward, the next time you arrive at your mother's table, please make sure to be properly dressed for it."

"Yes, sir," he said coolly. The two exchanged a look as Carlisle exited the room.

"Is Alice going to be okay?" I asked as he led me through Esme's beautiful backyard.

She had called it a garden, but it was more like a living maze. Gorgeous climbing plants, roses, and hedges grew in random clusters, leaving paths in between them. It would have been peaceful during the daytime, or in a different setting, but my heart was too heavy and there was too much darkness surrounding me; literally and figuratively.

"I don't know," was all he said for a long moment as we walked slowly down the path, side-by-side, furthering the ludicrous charade that we were a couple. "It's kind of you to worry about her."

The moon was high but not full, shining just enough light to for us to somewhat pick our way through the garden as we walked toward the crop of trees at the property's edge. The darkness was unnerving, but his closeness somehow seemed to diminish my usual level of panic. It didn't extinguish it completely, however.

I was still vibrating from dinner: from being around more people than I was used to, from being asked so many questions, having too much attention drawn to me.

Days and weeks of stress, new nightmares, the emotional ups and downs that I experienced on a daily basis, (especially during our "dates") the fear that was all consuming night and day - it all came down around me, furthering my anxiety.

I realized this was the first time that we'd truly been alone. Everywhere there were people surrounding us, and I wouldn't have another chance. I could barely make out his face in the waning light. The darkness that always fed my fear was also fueling my sudden sense of bravado.

I stopped in my tracks and he turned toward me.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Is that why you killed James? Because of what he did to Alice?"

"I thought you knew that."

I took a breath.

"But why did you do it in front of me? Why would you want me to watch a man die? Why am I even here?"

He took a long time to answer, and when he spoke, his words were slow and careful, but gentle. "You needed to see the kind of life that you would lead with us… and I can't answer that."

"Can't or won't?"

He said nothing.

"I deserve to know."

"Yes, you do. I'm not the one who can tell you." His voice was soft, comforting. It didn't do a thing to calm the storm inside me.

"Who is?" I asked quietly, fearing that I knew the answer before he'd said it.

"Carlisle."

A thought occurred to me then, a single thought that made my blood run cold.

"It's not a coincidence that you found me that day, is it?" The question was not more than a whisper, but I knew he heard me.

"No. It wasn't."

My mind went into a panic and all the anger fell away and gave way to fear. I wanted to run, but I couldn't make my body move. If I did run, where would I go? Into the copse of surrounding trees to slowly starve? I had no money, no prospect of a future. All I had was here and now with a man who had just admitted to me that he had purposely pulled me into a mafia family, but refused to tell me why.

It was all planned.

For my entire life, I had always done exactly as I was told. I had never caused a problem for anyone. I was meek and quiet and reserved and had never taken a risk. Ever. Why was I suddenly forced to work amongst criminals? What had I done to deserve any of this?

"Bella, there are a lot of things you can't know. You know far too much already. If there's any hope of you ever-"

"What? Ever what?" I said, my voice high and frantic.

"Nothing. I've said too much."

"You mean of me ever… leaving?" I was afraid to say the words, afraid that as soon as they left my lips, I'd be in trouble.

"I can't talk about this, especially not here. Just remember, you have a choice."

I reflected on that for a long moment. If that was true… if I could one day be free from them, If I could leave Illinois, maybe I could start over someplace else, someplace safe. The small light of hope he'd given me before had begun to burn even brighter. My heart constricted at the thought of it. I looked up at him, his face that was mostly in shadow, at his hair softly lit by the moonlight and wondered why he was suddenly helping me.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Bella… I don't want to hurt people."

It was the first time I could see him for who he truly was; the first time I could imagine him as anything other than a threat. I suddenly saw him as potential ally, as a potential friend.

He drove me home that evening in silence, and I could feel the shift that had occurred between us, of some unknown barrier that was missing.

And I wasn't afraid of him.

He dropped me off at my apartment with a quiet, "Good night."

I closed my door softly, my heart and mind full of a future that I hadn't considered in so very long. A future that would still be lonely and full of fear that I'd one day be found - but a future that would be mine.

And I began to plot my escape.