The Twilight 25

Prompt: Obsession

Pen Name: CherBella

Pairing: EdwardxBella

Rating: M

All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is all mine. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.

A/N: Decided to post this today as part of the informal TwiFandom Reader Appreciation day...for the few of you who are reading and enjoying this little fic you have my heartfelt thanks for taking a chance and going on this journey with me! Thank you!

~*~ Obsession ~*~

Edward's eyes prowled the room, passing over each and every crowd, every couple, every body, searching for the goddess in the red dress. Isabella. Is-a-bel-la, her name reverberated in his mind over and over and over, each syllable syncing in perfect time with the beats of his heart.

She was nowhere to be seen but he refused to believe that she had left the party. He began hunting through the adjoining rooms and halls, receiving many a curious look, but he could care less. At the moment she was his only thought. He turned a corner and immediately ducked back, hoping he wasn't seen. From the number of women gathered in the hallway, he had apparently come upon the ladies' powder room. He listened to the voices receding down the hallway; once they were gone he continued back around the corner to continue his search.

Suddenly, there she was…coming out of the powder room and heading down the hallway in the same direction as the other women. He took a deep breath as he was frozen in place watching her graceful body as it moved away from him.

Away from him… Quickly he snapped himself out of his daze. Catch her you idiot before she disappears again!

He strode down the hall and called after her, "Isabella!"

She hesitated and then finally turned. "Edward?"

He smiled in relief but her expression was hard to read. She kept her face impassive and simply stood there waiting for him to catch up to her.

"I'm so glad we ran into each other again…" he stammered the first words that came into his brain.

His words caused her eyes to narrow as she cocked her head, a bemused smile stretching across her face.

"In the corridor to the ladies' powder room? Yes quite unexpected to run into each other here…or do you frequent that room often?"

Beautiful and witty…he stared at her in delight and awe. Such a captivating creature he thought. He finally bowed his head humbly, a blush creeping across his cheeks.

"Um…er…okay, you got me. I do not frequent the ladies' powder room and in fact have never been in said room. I willingly admit I have actually been looking for you. You ran off so quickly after our dance…"

At his words, her smile disappeared again. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have danced with you…"

Edward's heart sank. "And why not? Did I do something wrong? If I did, please tell me so that I can make amends.""

Her face softened. "No, you…the dance…were both lovely. But you…you don't want to be seen with me, Edward." She bowed her head, casting her eyes downward.

Unable to stop himself, he reached his hand out and tipped her face up so that she was forced to look at him. "And why wouldn't I want to be seen with you?" He whispered softly.

She sighed, and there was a tone of resignation in her voice. "I am sure you have heard… clearly I don't belong here."

Those insensitive old biddies, he fumed to himself. Making this beautiful woman feel so out of place.

"We cannot control the evil tongues of others; but a good life enables us to disregard them*." She stared at him blankly so he continued on, "Isabella, I do not pay their words one ounce of truth. They are simply jealous of your grace and your beauty."

"No you don't understand…" she started to protest but he immediately placed his finger upon her lips to silence her.

"No Isabella, we shall not give any more credence to false words."

"You are too kind, Edward, thank you…but I really must go…" She turned again to go but his hand shot out and grasped her arm, a little too tightly. She glanced down at her arm then back at him, a look of shock on her face. He immediately let go but he couldn't ignore the warm tingling sensation still lingering in his fingers from where they had touched her arm.

"Please don't go yet…" he tried to hide the embarrassingly pleading tone in his voice.

They were at the end of the hallway and while she hadn't moved to leave yet, she tensed up and her eyes seemed to be darting around nervously as if looking for something…or someone. He spied a set of open doors leading out to another balcony and he frantically gestured towards them.

"Why don't we step outside for a bit of fresh air?"

At the sight of the balcony, her shoulders relaxed and she finally agreed. He politely let her walk ahead of him and once outside they both quietly stood with their hands on the railing–not speaking as they looked out into the night sky. Well, she looked out at the sky, Edward's eyes were still trained on her, drinking her in. The moonlight cast a cool, blue tint across her features, transforming her from the Degas painting of earlier into now, a flawless, marble sculpture. She lifted her face up to the heavens and closed her taking in a deep breath of air and releasing it.

"It's a beautiful night," Edward broke the silence, immediately chastising himself for not coming up with something wittier to say.

"Yes, it is." She responded, still gazing out at the stars. A light breeze was blowing and Isabella shivered, drawing her arms closer to her body.

Edward immediately started pulling off his coat. "How inconsiderate of me to bring you out into the cool night air. Here, take my coat, I insist." Before she could protest he had it draped over her shoulders. She turned toward him as she clutched it around her, and looked up at him from under her long lashes.

"Thank you."

They continued staring at each other for a moment…or two…or three.

Finally she sighed, "Edward, why are you out here with me?"

He frowned in puzzlement. "Why am I …"

"Why are you out here with me instead of inside dancing with one of the dozens of young ladies who are far more appropriate for you than I? I saw how they all look at you…you could have your pick of any one of them."

He had been maintaining a gentlemanly respectable distance from her, but now in disbelief at her words he stepped closer, never moving his eyes from hers.

"Why do you constantly put yourself down? I don't want any of those other insipid girls. There is no place on this earth I would rather be than standing here with you. I want you." He whispered the last three words huskily as he reverently drew his fingers to her cheek, tracing down her jaw line.

Edward felt such a strong connection to her…a connection he couldn't explain. The look on her face when he spoke those three words–I want you–and her reaction to his touch revealed that she too felt the same strong connection. Her lips parted and her eyelids fluttered shut momentarily as the feel of his hand stroking her face, the intense heat from his touch, overwhelmed her.

His heart soared and he took another step forward, needing to be closer to her…at the same moment she opened her eyes and took a step backward to put more distance between them. Her body stiffened and the mask closed over her face again, her eyes dulling, her jaw tightening.

"You can't want me Edward…you don't even know the real me."

His brow furrowed in confusion as he just stared at her, perplexed. She was a beautiful, bewitching mystery. When she let her guard down he could tell she was feeling the same strange connection he was…but then she would close up and pull away from him. If she was feeling as strongly as he was, he didn't understand how or why she was so reserved.

Before Edward could even try to figure out why she was being so cryptic, he heard heavy footsteps at the doorway and a strong smell of alcohol and cigars permeated the fresh night air.

"Signorina Swan." A cold deep monotone voice spoke. Edward turned to see two rather hard looking men in black–one not much bigger than he, and the other, so tall and massive he towered over all of them. He recognized them as part of the visiting Italian contingent, as he had been briefly introduced to them earlier in the evening. Viscount Aro Volturi was currently in England as the guest of Lord Newton and he had arrived with numerous courtiers and attendants. These two henchmen in front of them were among those with him. Felix and Demetri, were their names, if Edward remembered correctly.

"Visconte Volturi has been impatiently asking for you, He sent us to find you."

There was a definite tone of demand, not request, to their words, and they did not move from their spots. They were clearly not leaving without the "signorina."

Isabella cast her eyes downward. "I have to go," she spoke, only loudly enough for Edward to hear. She slipped Edward's coat from her shoulders and handed it back to him silently. Then without looking up at him she turned to leave with the men. They moved aside to let her pass, then closed ranks in behind her. They both gave Edward one last, cold, hard stare before following behind Isabella.

Edward frowned. Okay so she was with the Italians in some capacity, he thought to himself…she didn't look very happy about it though. He started to put his coat back on and was assaulted with her scent. He paused and lifted the collar to his nose and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes in bliss, in want, in need, of this beautiful lady. He refused to give up–somehow, someway…she would be his.

~*~O~*~X~*~O~*~

Back in the ballroom, Edward didn't have to search long this time for Isabella. The Viscount had his arm around her waist, holding her tightly to his side while he conversed with the other Italians in his group. Bella's face remained impassive, making it impossible for Edward to read what she was feeling or thinking at the moment.

Edward felt something building within him. As he watched the Viscount next pull her onto the dance floor, it threatened to bubble over…his blood began to boil and he realized it was rage and jealousy he was feeling. The Viscount pressed her body tightly to his as they danced, more tightly than was proper. He seethed as he watched that man touch her and hold her and kiss her cheek…in ways that only he himself should be touching her and kissing her. Granted, he had no claim on her–but he wanted to. He wanted her to be his and only his.

To twist the knife in his heart even more, Isabella was smiling at the Viscount. Was she…enjoying being with him? After the dance and the moment they had shared together? He refused to believe that she hadn't felt the physical connection, the chemistry between the two of them.

~*~O~*~X~*~O~*~

The young Lord watched the young lady in red obsessively for the rest of the night. His eyes constantly staring at her, following every move she made–every move that was apparently controlled by the Viscount, as she never left his side again. And the Viscount–continually running his hand down her cheek, caressing her arm, grazing the small of her back with his fingers. He clenched and unclenched his hands, seething with jealousy. It was all the young Lord could do to control himself from tearing across the room and ripping the Viscount limb from limb. He did not know what it was about this particular woman that had him so anxious and restless…no one had ever affected him this way.

All night long she haunted his thoughts. He couldn't even dream of her because he could not sleep. His brain couldn't stop trying to figure out her story. Her accent was British, not Italian, so she was at least originally from England…did she live in Italy? Did she travel here from Italy with the Viscount? That would explain why he had never seen her before tonight…but what if she wasn't from Italy? Could it be possible, could his luck actually be that good that she might live here, in London? And if she did…then how did she and the Viscount meet? They certainly seemed very "comfortable" with each other, for two people who may have just met.

By morning's light, his brain was exhausted from no sleep and all of the thoughts swirling around in his head…but he finally concocted a plan. He needed to find out more about her but had to be careful how he went about it. His father had already admonished him on the way home for not dancing with any other young ladies at the ball.

His personal valet had been with him since he was very young, and the man often went above and beyond the duties of a valet for the young boy–he had become a confidant, a father figure of sorts for a young man who could not turn to his own rigid father for advice or support. The valet was sympathetic for the young boy, stuck in a life he didn't really fit into, and with a father who didn't really understand him or show him the type of love he needed.

When the valet came into the young lord's room to rouse him the morning after the ball he was already up, staring out the window, his bed not even slept in; he had dark circles under his eyes, illustrating the toll his sleepless night had taken. Despite what his father and the rest of the world saw from the young lord, his valet was the only person who knew how truly lonely the young boy had been for so many years. For so long he had yearned for love, yearned to meet a young lady whom his soul would connect with, who would love him as much as he loved her.

And so it was his valet that the boy poured his heart out to–he told him everything about the ball… seeing her and dancing with her and touching her and talking to her. And how she spent the majority of the evening with another. He implored his valet to help him find her, to find out more about her. The older man could see both the torture and the excitement in the young man's eyes…emotions he had never seen from him before. The boy had waited so long for this, that the man dared not dissuade him from his feelings…but secretly something told the valet this would not end well.

~*~O~*~X~*~O~*~

Carlisle had worked for the Masen family for many, many years, in several capacities. When little Edward was finally of the age to have his own personal valet, the elder Lord Masen asked Carlisle to serve in the position and he accepted it with honor. He felt a great responsibility in being trusted to attend to the youngest Lord Masen. However, he could not have known then just how much Edward would come to rely on him as the years would pass. Edward was the more sensitive, emotional child of the two Masen children and Edward's father could not relate to him in the way he needed. He needed someone to lean on, someone to look to for advice and support. Carlisle felt empathy for the poor boy and, when he could, tried to be there for Edward when he needed a sympathetic ear or just simply a friend. And so, it was only natural that the only person Edward could trust with this latest task was Carlisle. And while he felt a bit uneasy about Edward's request, he accepted the task out of compassion and empathy for the boy.

It took a couple days of Carlisle sleuthing what he could, asking questions of other servants he knew from other manors. When a few leads pointed to the city, Edward gave him a fake errand to do for him in the city so that Carlisle could drive into London and inquire about the beautiful woman there.

What he found out only increased his unease about this heartbreaking union.

~*~O~*~X~*~O~*~

Returning at twilight from London, Carlisle entered Edward's room to find him pacing the floorboards. As soon as Edward heard him, he spun around.

"Well…were you able to find any more information?"

Carlisle did not answer and the look of guilty hesitation on his face gave him away.

Edward rushed across the room and grabbed Carlisle roughly about the shoulders. "You found something! You did! Why aren't you saying anything, Carlisle…" he growled out the manservant's name in frustration. "Tell me NOW!"

Carlisle gripped Edward and pulled out of his grasp. "Lord Edward! Get a grip sir and sit down first…"

Edward reluctantly sat, perched impatiently on the edge of a chair, while Carlisle relayed what he had discovered.

Miss Isabella Swan was from London, not Italy and she had not returned there with the Viscount. But despite Edward's protestations and his vehement denials, it appeared the gossiping women at the ball were actually correct about many things. Miss Swan was a commoner, and worked at an upscale Gentleman's Club. A club that not only served alcohol and provided men a place to gather, but also a club that discreetly provided certain "services" and "pleasures" to the wealthy and noble men who frequented the establishment. Viscount Volturi had spent an evening at the club, where he met Miss Swan and apparently was so taken with her he hired her to accompany him to the ball that night.

"Whatever else may have occurred, sir, I do not know; I was not able to see Miss Swan as I, of course, a servant, would not have been granted admittance into the club."

Edward sat motionless, and were it not for the fire building in his eyes, anyone passing by would never have known he had just found out such disheartening information. Concerned, Carlisle placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm very sorry, Edward."

Edward drew himself up straight and turned to look at Carlisle, his eyes narrowed and dark, blazing with emotion. "Pull the car around. We're going to London." As Carlisle hesitated, he barked his order at him: "NOW!"

~*~O~X~X~O~*~

*Edward is reciting an ancient quote from Cato the Elder, a famous Roman statesman.