A/N: Welcome! I got this story idea one night... for real, at midnight. I decided to roll with it. It seemed pretty cool to me.

I was always interested in Italy and Shakespeare, so for this story I wanted to add in some of my knowledge and it gives me a good excuse to do some research. An antique in the story will be from the Elizabethan Era (when Shakespeare roamed) and you'll notice some Italy swung within the story as well.

Enjoy!

Also, I want you all to give a warm welcome to my fantastic Beta RB. Simon! She is helping me a lot! I thank her greatly.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters.

"You do this every single time we get a large shipment." Angela, my closest and dearest friend says with a shake of her head. She pulls a few more items out of the large, brown box in front of her in our back room of the business we run. We grew up together, Angela and I, and from the time we finished high school and worked our ways through a few years of college we lost our way. Neither of us was happy with the degrees; Angela was looking towards becoming a nurse, and I a history teacher. I still would become a teacher if I was offered the opportunity, but I realized I didn't want to be the person who bored teenagers out of their minds with stuff they didn't want to know. At one point I was one of those teenagers, and I didn't realize my love for history until I fully became an adult.

Angela, on the other hand, was pushed into college by her parents who wanted her to be an aspiring nurse. She wanted to be an archaeologist, but her parents seemed more against that than saying a tomato is a vegetable. So Angela went against her will and studied for three years of things she didn't want to learn, until she dropped out. I went on to complete my six years of college, a period I had thought at the time to be the six most stressful years of my life. It wasn't until I had left school that I realized that I was completely miserable.

What happened after that completely changed our miserable lives for the better. Angela and I both have a love for artifacts and history, for the stories of passed ones and being able to have a physical object to prove their past. Gaining knowledge, learning the struggles humans went through, absorbing someone's story into our spirits as though they were our own is exactly the thrill Ang and I both seek. It didn't take long to realize our fate.

We needed to open an antique shop. It was decided one Monday over coffee while we were slurring our dreams out through our sleepy haze since we had only awoke an hour prior and it was Monday. We said that we could accomplish this. For once in our lives we could do something that we wanted.

Almost a year later and with my 25th birthday just a month, I can happily say my antique business is thriving. Those were a long and hard eight months, but after half a year, we made ourselves known and business started to spread. Every so often we get shipments of donations and I will go to auctions to see what I can find to add to our shop.

"I always do what?" I finally reply after emptying the box. There were some interesting antiques in the box: A watch and a cigar case being just a couple of these.

"We get a shipment and you can't wait to get your hands on things. You always keep at least one thing for yourself. What is this thing anyways?" She nods with her chin over to the brass tin that I set aside for myself.

"I don't always." I retort and reach for the tin, "But look it at, Ang." I place the tin between us and we both gaze down at it. It's the size of the average paperback novel and has rich and colourful.A slew of its colours made an intricate design across the lid.

I do know quite a bit on antiques, but I know this piece dates all the way back to the Elizabethan Era. The brass was popular back then and the intricate designs seem to go along with it. The way it has aged with time with the bits of rust near the hinge is another way to show it dates back long ago.

Antiques from that time period are very rare and usually expensive. I have had many customers come in and ask for pieces from that era and I often have to apologize explaining just how rare they are to find. Usually, if you want a piece of furniture or decor from that time, you'll have to settle for a reproduction.

"Yeah, what about the solid gold pocket watch that's inside of it?" She asks me with a soft elbow to the ribs. I take a deep breath and look around the room. The beige walls make the artifacts sitting on shelves pop out more.

"I don't think we should sell it." I reply and scoot the empty box in front of me across the room. I walk over to our back desk and sit down before the computer. "I don't even know how much it's worth."

"Clearly a lot." Angela picks it up and dangles it before her. "I don't see how someone could have parted with it."

"The owner didn't drop it off." I remind her. In fact, most of the recent shipments were antiques dropped off from a man named Cal. We've been lucky enough to have him generously donate at times. He owns a small storage unit business on the other side of Forks and whenever someone doesn't meet up with their payments, after a few months their lock is broken and the stuff is taken from it. They used to hold auctions, but not many people went seeing as most of the units held old furniture, especially mattresses and couches.

Sometimes though, the units held special items. And when that happens, Cal brings them over to my shop, Tiqued.

"Still, why would someone lock this away and forget about it for months?" Angela asks me while eyeing the watch in her hands.

I shrug and pull up the Internet. "Beats me, but the guy signed the contract saying that if he didn't meet the payments he'd lose his stuff, and now look what happened. I'm alright with it being ours now."

"How much do you think it's worth?" She asks me finally taking her gaze off the watch.

"That's what I'm looking up right now."

...

"Bella, I'm sorry." Angela kisses my cheek.

I say, "Go, have fun with Ben." Playfully, I shoo her off.

"You really don't mind closing the shop alone? I should've told Irina to stay later since I knew I was leaving."

"Angela." I roll my eyes. "Stop. I'm fine. So you leave a half hour early to go on a date? So what? No one's going to come here, it's nearly eight at night." I personally suggested that we were to close at eight on Fridays because that tends to be when people go out. Maybe they'd stop by the shop. I'm really regretting that; Friday's are the longest and they feel like it. I really am considering switching the times.

"Okay, see you Monday! Thank you!" She blows me a kiss as she zips up her coat and walks out into the wintery lands. I rub my arms when the draft flies in as she opens the door. The minute it's closed I turn and walk over to the cash register.

The next few hours passes slowly, I check inventory, sales, and go to the back to get more items ready to be set out on Monday. I was smart to choose to take weekends off. I go to auctions on those days often, and I am only 25. I mean I have a life outside of this job. Kind of.

I'm still in the back storage room when I hear the bell chime, telling me that someone has entered the store. "I'll be a moment." I call and close my computer, shutting it down for the night. I get up and walk out into the store. Once I close the door to the back room and turn to face my customers, I instantly go pale.

There are two of them, no three; I notice one out of my peripherals. All of them are dressed in black, from their toes to their heads. One is wearing a mask and the other two just chose to wear dark sunglasses. They are wearing toques and black long sleeved shirts. I guess that each one is over six foot, each having a muscular build.

I swallow even though my mouth has gone dry and approach them slowly. "Hello." I greet as calm as I can manage.

"Ma'am," The biggest one who's wearing the mask steps up, "This can go two ways..."

He has a thick Italian accent as his tongue rolls over each word carelessly.

"Whatever you need." I whisper and my eyes dart between the three men. I notice one is holding his belt buckle and I am able to see the end of a handgun near his pocket. I silently pray. I also see that he's wearing black gloves. Well, now, they're clever. They clearly don't want anyone proving they were here.

"My guys and I need to check this building for a very important item taken from us. If you let us, you won't get hurt. If you value your well-being, I would refrain from moving or uttering a sound." He looks directly at me as his deep, blue eyes bore into me.

My head bobs in a single, curt nod.

"I need to check the back room too." He adds. "Jazz, keep an eye on her. Anthony, search the front while I get the back room."

They both nod at him and get to business. Jazz approaches me, his hand still on his belt buckle. I can't see through his dark sunglasses, and I find myself wondering if his eyes are the same deep blue as the man with the mask. Jazz is shortest of the three and the lankiest, but he still looks threatening.

Well of course he is, he has a gun for fuck's sake.

His mouth is in a grim line, almost a frown and he let's out a deep sigh. "I hate doing this." He murmurs mostly to himself.

"What is it your looking for?" I clear my throat after my voice squeaks. "Maybe I can help."

Jazz shakes his head. "Can't say, boss's orders. Didn't think anyone would be here actually." His frown deepens as though he's sympathetic towards me. I can tell he is also Italian, though his accent isn't nearly as thick.

Yeah, I wish I wasn't here either buddy.

"Anthony," The one with the mask calls from the back room. "You found anything?"

"Nothing." Anthony replies as he walks past the wall with shelves holding all sorts of knick-knacks. His voice is the least accentuated than the other two. "Not a thing."

"Well, fuck, me neither." The masked man comes back into the room and over to Anthony.

"Em." Jazz pipes up. "It could be anywhere."

Ah, so the masked man is Em.

"Can we get the fuck out of here?" Anthony pleads. "We don't do this kind of shit."

"We do now." Em replies and looks over to me. "If I find out you're hiding the Golden Age, I will be back and it won't be good."

"Em." Anthony places his hand on Em's shoulder. "She did nothing wrong. She doesn't even know what's going on."

Em stares at me for several moments before sighing. He opens his mouth to say something, but a ringing noise cuts him off. I stand perfectly erect and watch with wide eyes as he reaches into his back pocket... and pulls out a phone. I slack a little, but still stand straight and my eyes refuse to blink. I try to record every moment so I can recall each and every detail. Is this even considered a break in? The shop is still open. I peek over to the section of clocks and the only one I can read from here is a grandfather clock. It's a little after eight.

"Fuck, we need to getta out here. Veloce." He slides his phone into his pocket again and looks at Jazz. "Did ya see any cameras?"

Jazz shakes his head in a silent no.

"Good," Em starts rushing towards the front door. "Then we don't have to break anything." The two other men, Anthony and Jazz, slip out after Em and they disappear into the darkness of the snowy winter night.

The minute they're gone I fall to my knees.

What the hell just happened?

A/N: Welcome aboard. I hope the first chapter was enough of a rush for you!

Veloce = fast

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