Part III:
He had expected that Bella would've changed by now. He had prepared himself to meet a transformed person. Still, the woman in front of him barely resembles Bella at all, and he finds himself utterly unprepared. She seems thinner than ever with cheekbones protruding. Her eyes are dark and massive, enhanced with mascara and shadow. Her outfit, a little black dress with long lace sleeves and black tights, is entirely urban.
Self-consciously, Bella takes out the cocktail umbrella from her hair and feels a flooding sense of embarrassment. Fate is cruel, she thinks, to allow him to come back now and see me drunk and silly. I bet he can even smell that guy at the club on me.
Indeed, Edward smells all too much on her. He had wanted to see her again, to just catch a glimpse of her and make sure she was happy, but at the sight and scent of this Bella, he can barely control his irritation.
"What have you been doing Bella?" Edward asks quietly.
She hears the accusation in his tone, and almost flinches before coldly replying, "Don't. Just don't."
"Is this what you do now?" he demands. "You just skipped your own exhibition to get drunk?"
Bella's eyes glare as she spits out, "Stop it! You don't even know me Edward! You don't know me now so how could you possibly understand me?"
Gazing at Edward and feeling anger is foreign to her, but she is angry, incredibly angry at his arrogance, his casual way of just waltzing back into her life.
"You shouldn't have come back," she tells him. As soon as the words come out of her mouth, she cannot bear to look at him because she knows the damage she has just inflicted.
At least now, he understands rejection.
She allows Heidi to pull her away, and upon returning to the gallery, she searches for a room where she can be alone.
Bella ends up in front of "A Night at the Theatre." It's one of her most surreal paintings, and she never was sure if she loved it or hated it. Parted red curtains revealed a stage set with bizarre characters: a maiden clutching onto a marble statue, a wolf gnawing on a skeleton's leg, and two harlequins, one smiling, one frowning.
Tonight is a tragedy.
Bella sobs as the lights go out.
Two days later, Bella is smiling again because Julian Crawford is a photographer who doesn't take no for an answer.
"You're going to be in Vogue," he reminds her. "The tortured artist act is dead. People want to see someone vibrant so give me a smile, doll face, a genuine smile."
Bella tries, but the whole thing is too unnatural. Julian has her posing in a ball gown for fashion's sake, and she feels ridiculous because no one wears designer dresses while painting.
Her cell phone buzzes, and it's Aro's secretary calling about a client who wants to schedule a lunch.
Unusual request, Bella thinks. "Why?"
"Well, he purchased three of your paintings last night, and he said he's very curious about you."
Julian is beckoning for her to hurry up. "Hold on, what's his name?"
"I believe it is Mr. Masen, Mr. Anthony Masen."
Bella scowls to herself. Oh very clever Edward.
In the rare moments when Heidi was unhappy, Caius was usually the reason. Just arriving from Italy, the vampire had unwisely brought along his newest plaything. Her name was of yet unknown because whenever Caius addressed her, he called her "pet."
Fidgeting in her seat, Bella glances up at the clock. Time to decide if I should go see him or not.
At last, she gets up and politely excuses herself from the company. With a stiff smile, Heidi rises too and follows her.
"You cannot leave me alone with him and his pre-adolescent whore!" Heidi hisses, grabbing Bella's arm.
"I'm sorry, but I have to meet someone," Bella murmurs distractedly, and she's halfway out the door when Caius appears.
"Would you girls be so kind as to allow Lola to accompany you?" he asks, his eyes glinting. "America is very unfamiliar for my poor pet. I had hoped that you, Heidi, could especially act as a surrogate mother for Lola."
"Bastard," Heidi mutters under her breath, but gives Caius and Lola a sickly sweet smile and acquiesces.
She's not coming.
Edward buries his head in his hands. Looking back, he regrets confronting her, cornering her. And now, she would never want to see him again.
"Mr. Masen?"
Edward freezes and lifts his head. Bella stands in front of him, dressed in a simple cream coat. Her expression is guarded, cautious, but she sits down and looks him in the eye.
"I believe you wanted to talk about my artwork?"
They begin.