I do not own Twilight.

Beta'd by Moon Dogg

Summary: Her scars are on the outside. His are on the inside. A different kind of Beauty and the Beast. OOC All human. Bella/Edward POV

AN: I hope you enjoy the story. Edward and Bella both have a hard and difficult road ahead so I hope you can stick with them for this journey.

Preface:

Things aren't always what they seem.

That line may be a tad cliche, but speaking from experience I can tell you that without a doubt it's absolutely true.

Chapter One: There Must Be a Beginning

Bella POV

I push the curtain of dark hair over my left shoulder, giving me access to the marred skin I normally keep hidden.

Without focusing on the scars around my eye that dip to the top of my cheek, I run the blood red lipstick across my lips. With a quick pucker and a kiss to folded tissue I appraise my work: sultry, dark eyes and pale, shimmery skin. I don't wear much makeup on my days off, but at the club it's a must. I cover my true self with cosmetics before donning the peacock mask that keeps my secret hidden.

"You look beautiful, Bell." Alice comes to stand behind me at my station, a warm hand on my bare shoulder.

With her other dainty hand on her hip she smiles, admiring her creation that's carefully placed on half my face.

"Even without the mask you're still the most gorgeous girl in here."

I ignore the snort from one of the girls to my left.

I drop my eyes from her reflection and stare at the mess on top of my vanity. Alice truly believes I'm beautiful, and I know if I contradict her that her kind smile will fall and her bright blue eyes will fade into sadness so I nod my head as I push my chair back, standing to take in the rest of my appearance. The bra and skirt are covered in blue and green sequins to match the feathers on my mask. My cleavage is almost in my throat, my stomach smooth and bare. It's a beautiful outfit, but I won't be wearing it very long.

Enchanted Forest isn't just any strip club. It's high class—well, as high class as a strip club could be. Even if we serve the wealthy and famous of Seattle, it's still a place where men (and some women) come to satisfy their baser urges. James the owner is a sleazy pervert who chases every skirt in his employ, but I put up with him because he gave me a break. If it weren't for him I'd be out on the streets—or worse.

"Knock 'em dead, babe." Alice's voice brings me back to the present, and I give her a weak smile.

Seth announces me over the speakers, and I roll my shoulders back and hold my head high.

It's showtime.