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loveyou914 prompted: Klaus is the best jewelry thief in the world but from under his nose, at a ball, the allusive Shadow stole The Royal Bird, a 38 carat canary diamond. After much investigation, he sets a trap for the Shadow only to discover the Shadow is Caroline, the woman who flirted with him and then disappeared. Happy Writing!

Part I: Unseen

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god..." I repeated rhythmically, like saying it with a deliberate pattern was going to help keep me calm. Actually—I might have been saying it just in my head. I wasn't sure. Panic does that.

I stared up at the door, my grip on a very, very expensive mini-statue tightening until I was pretty sure it would crack. I'm trapped. Trapped like a rat in the digital age.

"Caroline?"

My free hand flew to my earlobe. "Are you serious, Stefan?" I hissed into the ear piece. Mic tastefully disguised as a pearl earring? My idea. "You said that you'd shut down the sensors!"

"Tell me what's going on." No hesitation, no back talk. My partner in crime was in it to win it.

Which didn't help my current situation at all. "The door snapped shut like one of those Temple of Doom set ups."

Typing. "All of the electronics routed to that room were diverted. The only way something like that could have happened was-"

Ringing. Mechanical feedback so loud I almost screeched. Then silence. "Stefan?" I repeated, half hoping he'd respond...knowing he wouldn't.

"Old tricks are the best tricks, they say."

My heart sank. I knew that voice.

Holding the statue to my chest, I turned. "Klaus Mikealson."

He stood on the other side of the room. No idea how he got there. This room was set up like someone's basement, with bare concrete walls and naked floors. If it weren't for all of the high grade security linked up to this place, I would have thought it was some uptown yuppy's unfinished Man Cave.

Now I had the sneaking suspicion it was actually an evil lair.

His mouth curled into a half smile. "Love."

Love. Only someone with his accent could pull that nickname off. I'd bet every piece of my stolen art collection that he did—pull it off, that is. Often. With many, many women.

God, he was gorgeous. The florescent lights just did him favors.

"Didn't expect to meet again under this kind of circumstance." I shifted to the side. There was a good chance that whatever was interfering in the feed was electronic. All electronics had a range.

Even if the jammer reached further than I could, there was a backup plan in place. Multiple backups, in fact. It was only a matter of minutes before Stefan broke me out.

Fortified by the thought, I lifted my chin.

His eyes glittered when he tilted his head. "Yes, well, one usually doesn't expect his evening's delight to steal from him."

I blinked. "What?" No way did I just hear that right. "First of all, I was not your evening delight." The bunny ears were a little lopsided since I only had use of one hand. "We danced, we flirted, then I gracefully melted into the crowd. Second, I didn't steal from you."

He tugged the cuff of his Henley down on his wrist. It was a far cry from the tux he was wearing last time, but I had to admit, he worked the look. "Well, darling, that's where you're wrong. The Royal Bird was slated for my collection, not yours."

The Royal—holy mother of—Klaus Mikealson was the Original? The Original, renowned jewel thief?

I burst out laughing. Hysteria? Disbelief? "Of course. I should have realized." The expensive clothes, the ego he carried around like a physical weight on his shoulder. "Did you set all of this up because I stole something you wanted to steal?"

He put his hands behind his back, far from amused. "I'm territorial."

A slight shiver wound its way over my skin. He'd lowered his chin to stare at me, a wolf eyeing its prey, mentally debating what to do with it. "You don't think it's a bit much? We're both professionals."

"Oh, darling. I'm not a professional. I'm a lover. A disciple of beauty. I would never steal anything for so crass a reason as profit."

Well, neither did I. Sure, there were jobs I took to put a little away for a rainy day on some remote island that catered solely to my needs. The cost of living, you know.

The truly beautiful pieces—like the Royal Bird—stayed in my private collection. All 38 carats of that diamond waited in my vault for the perfect display case. As soon as I found it, I planned to spend many hours admiring it from every angle.

That being said, I didn't appreciate the snooty tone of the conversation. "An art dealer can be both a professional and a disciple of beauty, so I don't think your argument holds, Klaus."

He smiled to himself, ambling closer like he didn't have a care in the world. "Fair point. What say you and I discuss it further over a glass of wine?" A slow, heated look raked me from head to toe. "Champagne, perhaps? I'd love to poke around all the nuances of our chosen field."

Now why did I get the feeling that wasn't a choice? "You know, that would sound fun...if you didn't have me trapped in an underground bunker."

Both eyebrows shot up. "And how did you get here, Caroline? Did your friend Stefan Salvatore tell you this was certain success?"

Cold crept down my spine. He was getting too close. "How did you know about Stefan?"

"How could I not? I've done quite a bit of investigating since our last encounter." He stopped less than a foot away, expression morphing into the admiration you'd see in an art gallery. "The infamous Shadow," he murmured. "How lovely."

Not good. None of this was good—not the strange, hypnotic quality of his timbre, not the way his proximity messed with my ability to breathe like a normal person, and not the way he knew far too much about me.

I wet my lips. "Stefan picked out the name."

"I'm certain he did. Strangely fanciful, that Stefan. Quite unlike his toerag of a brother."

Toe—Okay, time to back up. Or go to the side, because giving any ground to this man seemed like a very bad idea.

But his hand shot out before I could make my move. "The statue please, love."

There was a buzz. It was small, too low for Klaus to hear, but just the telltale vibrato in my left lobe sent a wave of relief rushing through me. Stefan was on his way, maybe less than a minute out.

Desperate times. "Oh, you mean this?" I held the statue straight out—away from him.

Annoyed, he shook his head. "Don't play games with me, love. That would be a mistake."

"You seem awfully concerned with it. Must be something special." Hurry up, Stefan.

I was never baking him cookies again for as long as I lived if I survived this.

Lighten up, Caroline. Stop being so controlling, Caroline. I can handle this, Caroline. That is my job after all, Caroline-

"That is a seventeenth century original casting of Charlotte de Thelay's bronze. Which you well know." The last bit was growled.

Of course I knew. It was a masterpiece. One of the few surviving works by a largely overlooked female artist.

But this was the dumb blonde play, and admitting any of that would get me into bigger trouble than I was already in. "Really? I just thought it was pretty."

"Oh, I have no doubt of that." His tone implied much, more more. His fingers curled. "Hand it over, love."

"I don't know," I singsonged. "My palm's kind of sweaty from being nervous. I don't like people crowding me."

He stilled. "Caroline."

My breath caught.

"No matter what happens, you cannot be unseen."

Translation—You are on my radar.

Why was it suddenly so hard to tear my eyes from his? And my heart...it was like being a teenager again. Back then it was hard to know if you liked someone...or were terrified of them.

Klaus' lips turned up knowingly. He knew exactly what reaction he was inspiring.

He reveled in it.

Just when I thought my pulse couldn't handle anymore, the earring buzzed again.

Showtime.

I gathered up my courage. Forgive me, Art History, for I am about to sin. "I guess it's—Oops!" At the last possible second I lobbed the statue up and over his head.

Just as predicted, he dove for it.

The door slid open with a violent bang nearly at the same moment. "Caroline!"

That's what the planning skills of a control freak will get you, Stefan.

I dashed for the door, not pausing to look back. I knew he'd be coming for me the instant he was able to. Nobody crossed Klaus Mikealson.

Nobody tried to smash his stuff and live.

"Run!" I snapped at Stefan as I passed.

He was right beside me. "What the hell happened in there?"

I was trapped in a small space with a man who is both terrifying and fascinating and I'm not sure how I feel about it. "Just run!"

We did. We followed the exit strategy to a T, meeting next to no resistance. It wasn't going to be that easy, though. I knew that the moment I turned around and saw him watching me in that hungry way. I'd gotten away today, but tomorrow? The day after?

Stefan gunned the car and tore out of the hedge he'd hidden behind. We made it to the road, wind whipping my hair back through the open window. We were empty handed, but we were alive.

The question was, how long would that last?

We slipped into traffic—the perks of having a taxi as your getaway vehicle—blending into the city's busy nightlife seamlessly.

"What happened?" Stefan asked again.

"We were made," I said grimly. "What happened with the door?"

"Old school pulley system. A work of art if you're into it. The guy?"

"Klaus Mikealson."

"Klaus-" His head dropped back, almost messing up his perfect hair. "Okay. It could be worse."

"It is. He's the Original."

Stefan's head whipped around. Shock, then realization flared. "Damon," he growled.

Figured my biggest regret would have some part in this. "He knew and didn't tell you about Klaus."

"Sometimes I think you should be glad to be an only child." He squeezed and released the steering wheel. "Now what?"

"Now we go to my private plane and start island hunting. Hire a few mercenaries while we're at it, because we're going to need all the help we can get."

"If half the rumors about Klaus are true? We might need an army."

Fantastic. And I threatened to smash his one of a kind de Thelay all over the concrete floor.

Maybe I succeeded.

My heart squeezed. Hunted. Possible destroyer of amazing art. I didn't know which I felt worse about.

I leaned my temple on my fist and closed my eyes. Three weeks ago this was all so simple. I met a beautiful man at a ball. When we danced...we didn't just dance. He partnered me the way people in the movies flowed together. When Stefan gave me the cue to get out of there and get the diamond, I didn't exactly skip away from the party. I wanted to stay. Wanted to flirt. Because I deserved some semblance of a social life, even if it was a lie. Why not pretend with a man who danced like that?

Forking my fingers through my hair, I sighed. Pretending never served anyone. The cold hard truth was the way things really worked.

The sexy man I danced with was now gunning for blood and revenge. Sticking around to find out which he'd go for first would be the height of stupidity.

"No matter what happens, you cannot be unseen."

I believed him.

End Part 1

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