AN: Thanks for the reviews! In this story, Bella's blood does not appeal to Edward in any special way. If this ruined the story for you, then I am sorry. I thought it would be too complicated to weave into the already complicated story.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Titanic or King Lear or Much Ado About Nothing or The Tempest or As You Like It.

Bella's POV

"Oh, dear, I apologize." I managed to explain. I was so embarrassed I was crying. But I couldn't help squinting through my tears at him. I should not be doing this. I am engaged, for crying out loud! He was beautiful, muscular, and lean. His chiselled face broke into a breath-taking smile when he caught me staring.

"I accept your apology and invite you to sit for a while. My name is Edward." He said, and his voice made me melt. It was lyrical, musical, and wonderful. He pulled a brown shirt over his head and black pants, buttoning them quickly.

"Isabella Marie Swan Newton." I replied, extending my hand for a handshake.

"I'm going to have to write that one down." He smiled and reached out to shake my hand. From what I knew about him, I expected a warm, soft handshake. Well, that is most certainly not what I got.

His hands were hard, cold, and when he touched me it sent an electric current through my skin. I pulled my hand away, a surprised look on my face.

"Sorry." He mumbled, embarrassed. He stopped there. Was he not going to explain? Although his touch was cold as ice, he made me feel warm all over.

"So, what brings a beautiful, graceful, and polite and obviously First Class woman such as you to the humble Third Class abode?" He smirked. I blushed. I was most certainly not beautiful or graceful. Polite? I had walked in on him changing!

"I was... curious." I said simply, playing with my hands.

"About...?"

"What Third Class life was like. First Class is so different from this." I explained and instantly regretted it. What if I insulted him? And I was doing so well!

"He appeared unperturbed. "How so?" He questioned.

"It's decorated, oak panelled. The rooms are a small tad bigger than this." I let out a small laugh. Everything just flowed out when I was talking to him. And I didn't even know his last name.

"So," Edward said, sitting in the small steel chair in the corner, hands on his knees. "Isabella, what are your pastimes? What do you enjoy?"

"Firstly, it's just Bella." I almost shouted. I hated it when people called me by my full name. It was too formal, and every time someone called me Isabella I suddenly felt a million years old. "And secondly, I enjoy reading the classics. Shakespeare, Brontë, Austen." If I couldn't read, I had nothing. "And yourself?"

"I enjoy the classics, just not Brontë and some Shakespeare. I compose and paint as well."

"Which Shakespeare do you not enjoy?" I demanded.

"King Lear, Much Ado About Nothing, The Tempest and As You Like It. They did nothing for me. As does Brontë's work."

"Odd, I have never met anyone who did not enjoy Shakespeare." My voice came out sharp. I thought we were hitting it off. I thought we could be friends.

"Well now you have." He approached me and grabbed my hands. He brought them slowly to my face. Oh, he did not!

"Excuse me! I am engaged!!! Do you mind?" I yanked my hands away and stormed away. I could hear his heavy footsteps behind me.

"Wait! I am so sorry Bella. It's just...." I could hear the struggle in finding the right words in his voice. "I feel a connection between us. And don't deny it." He paused to point a long, pale finger at me, and I looked up at his face. Even masked in anger, it was painfully beautiful. "Because I know you feel it too."

"I - I have to go." I turned and ran towards the door, all dignity and First Class attitude forgotten. And after the last couple of minutes, it felt so nice to forget who I was. And what I had done.

AN: I would REALLY like five reviews, if possible. Just five? Please?