Ten years earlier…
Damon Salvatore looked around the crowded room and had to force himself not to yawn. He couldn't stand attending events where everyone drank too much, laughed too loud and tried far too hard to impress each other.
Damon knew he was what women considered a real catch. Hell, a stupid magazine had done a write up on Washington's most eligible bachelors and placed his picture as number one. At the age of twenty-five, Damon was the vice president of Salvatore Corporate. Salvatore Corporate had a net worth of more than a hundred billion. They'd also said he was an extremely handsome young man with a height of 5'10' and a well-toned body. With striking, intense blue eyes contrasting wonderfully against dark lashes and eyebrows, and a "bad boy" smile, they'd had described him as the "eternal stud".
He hated gyms but he ran every morning and sometime in the evenings too. He'd discovered at a young age running was a great form of relieving his stress. He knew the second best way to relieve stress was to take a woman to bed. Maybe one day he'd think about settling down. At this stage, he wasn't interested in any long term commitment with any women. Including Rebekah.
Rebekah Mikaelson was a beautiful and very attractive woman and had natural light blond hair, light blue eyes, full lips, and pale light skin with a small dusting of freckles across her cheeks and nose. She was the only daughter of Mikael and Esther Mikaelson. The Mikaelson family was a powerful family in Richmond. They ruled a huge chain of department stores across Virginia, a family business which the Mikaelson family had built their reputation, although they currently represented only a small portion of their vast holding.
Damon dated Rebekah for a while when they were in university, and they had sex. Great sex. But they had gone their separate ways after that. Over the years they had become comfortable with each other – the way two old friends could be. They slipped in and out of the roles of lovers because it was easy. He knew he could find comfort and affection in her arms – with no demands from her, no strings, no expectations to be fulfilled.
These parties were all about who had the most to offer. The women were on the prowl and the men were fishing. He wasn't interested. If he wanted a woman, he could have one at any time. He wasn't interested in superficial, wanna-be socialites.
He watched as a couple of ladies passed by, dripping in diamonds and low cut gowns. They were trying to catch his eye and normally he'd make their day by flirting a little, giving them the impression they stood a chance but he wasn't interested today. In the middle of all of it, holding audience, stood the long dark brown hair diva herself, stunning in a black lace above knee-length dress that hugged her generous curves. He lowered his tumbler, his glance automatically straying to the stunning brunette across the room. It was Elena Gilbert. He hadn't seen her for more than a year now. She had stirred his interest from the moment she'd walked into the room with a stride that had in it the faintest hint of a swagger, with a quick rhythm that synchronised and turned graceful the supple movement of her body. She was a woman all the way through – all lace and legs.
"There you are, boy. What are you doing hiding in the corner?" Rebekah walked up to him.
Damon raised his glass and gestured toward the far side of the room. "Isn't that Elena Gilbert?"
"Yes, that's Elena," Rebekah confirmed. "Truthfully, I didn't expect to see her here. She didn't like to attend parties or gatherings of this type. Her life has been a constant cycle books and exams," she chuckled. During the brief pause that followed, Damon could feel Rebekah carefully monitoring his reaction. "Gorgeous, isn't she?"
"Definitely." He continued to lounge against the wall, for the moment content to enjoy his unobstructed view of Elena, conscious of the hot, smooth feeling that flowed through him.
"Is that Tyler Lockwood?" He gestured to a muscular young man with tanned skin, short black hair and dark brown eyes.
"Hmm. Elena's boyfriend."
"Boyfriend?" His gaze sharpened on the pair, irritation flickered through him.
"They have been together for about a year now."
Again he felt the speculation in her study of him. "Trust me, Damon. She is not your type."
"Why do you say that?" He glanced at her curiously.
"Because…no woman seems to last with you. It isn't even a case off with the old and on with the new. No one sticks around long enough to be old. She's a woman of such contrast. I have to tell you that you two are definitely not a good match. No even in the short term."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Damon, don't do something silly. I don't want you to regret." Rebekah frowned, as if aware she wasn't making herself clear.
"I will have to keep that in mind." With a little push of his shoulder, he straightened from the wall. "I am getting another glass of champagne. I enjoyed the chat, Rebekah." He winked at her as he moved away.
x x x
Without being obvious, Elena watched as Damon Salvatore leisurely wound his way around the guests. He was definitely sexier than she'd seen him more than a year ago at the Founder's Ball. She found herself liking the way he moved, like an athlete, all smooth coordination and easy grace. He stared back. She took a sip of the orange juice, conscious only of the unexpected quickening of her pulse. What was he doing in Richmond? She looked again, telling herself that her interest was strictly curiosity. His gaze never left her as he nodded absently to the person with him and raised a crystal tumbler to his mouth. Elena glanced at the blonde beside him. Rebekah Mikaelson, the daughter of Mikael and Esther Mikaelson. Obviously the two knew each other well.
Damon Salvatore. The eldest son of Giuseppe and Lily Salvatore. After Lily was drowned in the sea, Damon and his brother Stefan had been raised by their father who was, according to Elena's mother, in no way qualified to be a father because Giueseppe had engaged in multiple affairs after Lily died. And Damon taking on his father also displayed womanizing tendencies with the opposite sex.
For four generations, ever since the legendary street fight between Joseph Salvatore and Jonathan Gilbert in front of Mystic Falls Town hall, the Gilberts had dutifully warned their offspring not to get involved with the wild, unruly Salvatores. Her great grandmother Katherine Pierce was the cause of the feud as both men were deeply in love with her.
Damon was twenty-five, eight years older than herself, Elena thought. Although she and her family had lived in Mystic Falls for generations, Elena had had no direct contact with Damon while she was growing up. The eight years' difference in their ages had served to keep their orbits safely separated, even in Mystic Falls which is a small community where both families had deep roots. Eight years was a chasm when one was a kid. Ever since the Salvatore family had moved to Washington more than ten years ago, she hardly had any interaction with the two boys of Giuseppe Salvatore. But the Salvatore family still spent some summer and vacations at Mystic Falls.
"I wonder what he is doing here." Caroline Forbes took a sip of the wine from her glass.
"Who?" Elena glanced around the room quickly.
"Damon Salvatore." Caroline answered. "The Salvatore Corporate has become one of the largest land developers in the country in the last five years. Damon Salvatore is now the vice president." Her expression grew thoughtful. "He will take over Salvatore Corporate when Giuseppe retires in the next couple of years."
Elena smiled at her friend. "So tell me, since when have you developed an interest in the Salvatores?"
The beautiful blonde glanced around the crowded room. Apparently satisfied that no one could overhear, she leaned closer and lowered her voice. "Intelligent, educated, clearheaded women like us know better than to marry guys like Damon Salvatore. But that doesn't mean it wouldn't be fun to fool around with one." She winked. "He is sexy as hell. Practically every available woman in this room wants to put all that raw male and hard muscle to good use."
Elena rolled her eyes. "I'm not interested." But she knew it was a lie.
"Really? You mean you weren't at all attracted to him?"
Elena shook her head and laughed softly. "I think you have drank too much, my friend. You do know legally you aren't allowed to drink until you are twenty-one, don't you?" With a lift of her head, she glanced beyond Caroline to scan the room. "Where is Tyler? Have you seen him?"
"When I last saw him, he was over by the reception hall." She waved her hand in its direction.
"I will find him. It's getting late." Elena smiled at her friend as she moved away. "I'll see you back in Mystic Falls next week."
Elena and Tyler had been together for about a year now. At eighteen, Tyler Lockwood was a fine-looking young man. Almost all of the mayors of Mystic Falls were from the Lockwood family but Tyler wasn't interested in becoming a mayor. He was currently the captain of the Mystic Falls Football Team and he planned to go national. They rarely saw each other recently because of the time he spent in his practise. Everyone in Mystic Falls had believed they were a good match but Elena started to have doubts about her relationship with Tyler in the last few weeks. Maybe she hadn't put enough effort in making their relationship worked. Oh hell, she didn't know.
As Elena approached the reception hall, she heard voices—one male voice she recognized very well, and a female voice that she didn't. She heard a passionate groan from Tyler, a sound she'd never heard before, and a responding husky female moan. She turned her head and her breath caught as she saw Tyler kissing a brunette. His hands were on her breast and her butt, holding her model-thin body against his, grinding against her. Elena stared in morbid fascination watching as the man she'd been involved with and had trusted for the last one year, killed her devotion with every kiss and every touch of his hands against the woman's breast and butt. And as every bit of her love for him drained away, so came the realization that this Tyler was a complete stranger. She never knew him.
Elena cleared her throat. "I suspect you are not in a hurry to go."
"Elena," Tyler tore his mouth away from the brunette and gasped heavily. 'I can explain…"
Elena held up her hand. "Sorry to interrupt. I can find my way home. Please continue."
She didn't look in Tyler's direction again. She didn't want to see him or the brunette he'd just been kissing. Turning on her heels, she walked away from him. Never looking back.
"You can't just leave like this. I can explain," Tyler yelled desperately from behind.
Like there was really any reasonable explanation for what she'd just witnessed? Raising her voice just loud enough to be heard, she answered without looking back, "We are over, Tyler. Don't bother to explain anymore. Don't make a fool of yourself."
Existing the foyer, she drank deeply of the night air and fought to cool her emotion. She had to keep moving. She would survive.
"It's going to be a long way home." The lazily seductive drawl of a male voice seemed to reach out the night and stroke her.
Elena spun around. For an instant, everything inside her went still. Damon stood before her, dark and elegant in his black evening attire. There was a sleekness about him – a raciness that convinced Elena he should be wearing a warning label advising the unwary that here was a man highly dangerous to the senses.
"Do you do this a lot?" she asked gruffly.
"Do what a lot?"
"Jump out of nowhere when people clearly want to be left alone?"
An eyebrow lifted. "You want to be left alone so that you can mourn for your break up?"
Her first reaction to the realization that he had witnessed what happened between Tyler and her was overwhelming mortification. Anger warred with acute embarrassment.
"How rude of you to spy on people who want to have private conversations."
"Spy? Your boyfriend was kissing another woman in the reception hall. Anyone who walk pass will have seen them." His smile mocked her.
She glared. "You're being deliberately obnoxious."
"But not quite as obnoxious as the jerk, huh? At least I won't kiss another woman in front of my girlfriend."
"Oh, shut up. I'm going home."
"I hate to mention it, but you are standing alone here in Richmond in the middle of the night. Like I said, it's going to be a long way back to Mystic Falls, especially when you don't have a car."
"I can call a cab."
"Trust me honey, no cab will take you back from Richmond to Mystic Falls at this hour." He smirked, his eyes glinting with a wickedly mocking light. "It will cost you a fortune as well, sweetheart."
She was just gearing up to inform him that she didn't particularly appreciate sexist endearments like "sweetheart" or "honey" when he removed his suit and handed it to her. "You are cold. Here, put this on."
"I'm not cold," she said through chattering teeth, wishing she hadn't left her jacket in Tyler's car. "It's just a little bit chilly." She ran her hand up and down her arm, trying to erase the goose bumps. "You don't have to give me your suit."
"But I want to."
She tried to read his face in the shadows, but it was impossible to tell what he was thinking or feeling. Assuming that is, that he was thinking or feeling anything at all.
"Put on the suit. I don't think I have any first-aid kit which contains cold remedies in my car."
Reluctant but shivering again, she took the suit and the fabric was soft against her fingertips. She pulled it over her shoulders, enjoying the warmth, and the smell of his cologne. "Thank you."
"Ready to go home?"
Automatically she looked at her own watch. "Good grief, it's almost eleven. I need to get someone to pick me up. I've got to get going."
"I will take you home."
"That's not necessary."
"Yes it is. I'm not leaving you here in Richmond in the middle of the night. Come on, my car is just around the corner." He rested his hand at the small of her back and Elena held her breath as a sensation of heat coiled through her body. No man had ever had that effect on her, including Tyler.
x x x
"We are here."
Damon's deep voice brought Elena's out of a semi-stupor induced by the break-up earlier that night, long stretches of unbroken silence, and mile after mile of empty road.
She blinked owlishly and glanced at the clock on the dash, surprised to find that it was almost one. Sitting up, she saw a luxury hotel in front of them.
"Here where? This is not Mystic Falls."
"I'm tired. I need some sleep. Got a long way to drive back to Mystic Falls tomorrow morning." He shuddered open his door, letting in a slice of cold air that nipped at Elena's lungs. Her nose burrowed deeper into the collar of her borrowed suit as she climbed out.
Damon hadn't chosen a sleazy highway motel. Instead, he'd booked them into a luxury suite in a new hotel at Hampton. He unlocked the door to the suit, then stepped back to let Elena precede him. She walked by him and wandered into the sitting room.
"Would you like something to drink?" he asked as he removed the silver-and-onyx cuff links and rolled up the sleeves of the white shirt.
"I'm seventeen. Legally I can't drink."
"Yet." He mocked at her again.
She gritted her teeth. "You are a jerk."
"I know," he grinned, watching her with an amused look before walking to the bar.
Irritated, she sank down on the elegant, tapestry-covered sofa. She watched him for a moment. Damon looked rakish and extremely sexy with his tie undone and his shirt open at the throat. There was some indefinable quality about him that stamped him as dangerous, a man who could smile and draw a throaty groan from every woman in this planet.
Damon strode towards her, holding a glass in each hand, his eyes never left her.
"Try this. It will keep you warm."
Hesitantly, she took the glass of bourbon he handed her and eyed at him suspiciously.
"It's bourbon, not poison." He winked and took a drink of his own, letting the cold bourbon trickle in and burn down his throat.
Elena eyed it dubiously before sampling. She coughed, made a face, and set the glass down on the coffee table with a finality that echoed through the room.
Damon couldn't help grinning as he sank down beside her. "It's strong but I like it."
"You like it doesn't mean that I like it too." She coughed again and pushed the glass a complete arm's length away on the table.
"Yes, we are different. I'm a Salvatore and you are a Gilbert, remember?" His smile gleamed dangerously.
She raised her chin. "I don't give a darn about that stupid feud. Ancient history, as far as I'm concerned."
"Right. Ancient history. But you know what they say about history. Those who don't learn from it are condemned to relive it."
Startled, she stared at him. "Is that the reason why your family moved to Washington? To avoid from making the same mistake?"
He laughed softly. "You didn't think the Salvatores will actually run away to avoid from making a mistake, did you?"
"No, I didn't think so."
Damon took a long, slow drink and savoured the way the liquor wound through his body. He studied her as he felt the alcohol's subtle effects. He wondered her skin would be as smooth to the touch as it looked. He let his glance stray to that lace top of her dress. "I like your dress." Almost absently he trailed the tip of his finger down her hand, feeling the heat from her body – and the sudden tension that claimed her. He lifted his glance to her eyes. They were alive to him, returning his look measure for measure. "I wonder what it is about black lace that stirs a man's blood?" he mused aloud.
"I should think you'd be able to answer that question more easily than I could since you are very definitely a man." She regretted immediately when the words came out from her mouth.
"You noticed." He ran a hand lightly along her spine. She almost snapped in two.
"So why were you in Richmond?" A change of topic sounded like a great idea at that moment. "Business trip?"
"The Mikaelsons are family friends. I was on my way to Richmond to check on my project when Rebekah mentioned the family was hosting a party. So here I'm."
"Rebekah? The woman you were with this evening?"
"Hmm."
"The two of you are close," she murmured.
"We are friends. We used to date in the past but it's over. Why would you have interest in Rebekah and me?" He arched a dark eyebrow in her direction, a curiosity in his look.
"Well, everyone knows about your reputation." She attempted to shrug off her answer. "That's common knowledge in Mystic Falls."
"You have been listening to rumours, haven't you?"
"Are they rumours?" she challenged.
"Why is it that we always seem to be talking about me? What about you and your life?"
"Mine isn't nearly as interesting as yours."
"You are going to college soon, right? What are you going to do with your life?" he asked curiously, then held up a hand quickly to check her answer. "No let me guess. Lawyer? Teacher?"
"I want to be a doctor, just like my dad."
"Ah, how can I forget Grayson Gilbert is a well-respected paediatrician at Mystic Falls."
She smiled. "I know it isn't easy being a doctor and it will be even harder to live up with my dad's expectation." She paused for a moment before continuing. "I don't want to disappoint my dad."
"You know what? I think you will be a great doctor because you are smart, intelligent and caring."
"You really think so?" Surprise and delight lit her face. "No kidding?"
"No kidding," he said as he raised one hand and traced her collarbone. "Do you know there are a dozen things I've yet to find out about you?" His voice was pitch low, faintly mocking yet provocatively challenging.
She caught her breath at his touch. "Such as?"
"Such as…what's your favourite food?" His gaze moved slowly over her face, blatant in its interest. "What's your favourite movie? How could Tyler Lockwood have been so foolish as to let you go?" as she felt the brush of his fingers in her hair, he asked. "Do you always wear your hair straight? Does your mother have lips like yours? And does Tyler find it as hard as I do to keep my hands off you?"
All sense of caution fled as she moved into his arms and their mouths met, fitting together as naturally as two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. His touch was warm, his taste all Damon. Then he drew her into his lap. He cradled her in one arm, palmed her hip with the other. She slid her hands up the muscled planes of his chest to wrap around his neck. There was a dim recognition of his hands moving expertly over her body but she didn't try to keep track of them. With a rush of greed, she surged up against him.
"This is crazy," he growled, dipping down to lick her lower lip. She was addictive, like tangy barbecue sauce on sizzling ribs or cold watermelon on a hot day. He couldn't get enough of her.
"Crazy," she echoed, her mouth as hungry as his.
"We should stop now, before it's too late."
"You first," she panted.
Damon was filled with mixed emotions. His body was urging him to go for it – but his head kept insisting he'd better hold back. Elena Gilbert was not just another one-night conquest. She was special.
But tonight…
Tonight, dammit, he wanted her. He erupted from the sofa with Elena hefted high in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. There, he set her down and kissed her again, rediscovering the earthy and stimulating pressure of her lips. Pulling back, Damon turned her around and slowly slid the zipper all the way down to the base of her spine. He slid the dress off her shoulders and down her arms, stimulated by the silken texture of her skin. As he bent to nibble at the bareness of her shoulder, the dress fell the rest of the way to the floor in a rustling whisper.
While his fingers edged the thin straps of her bra off her shoulder, his nibbling mouth followed its ridge to the base of her neck. Her head was thrown back and to the side, allowing him to explore at length the rapidly pulsing vein in her neck. He was conscious of the disturbed shallow breaths she took, and the faint tremors she tried to contain. He wanted more, so much more.
As he turned her into his arms, he carried her to the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight centred on the point of one knee as he laid he down, then followed after her before covering his mouth over hers. He slid a leg between her thighs and instantly felt her push against it. He wanted her. God, how he wanted her – right now – this minute. Shifting his attention from her lips, he explored the perfumed hollow behind her ear. She was all motion against him, her hands running over his shoulders, neck and back, her body straining towards him, her hips arching in a rubbing rhythm until he was surrounded by heat, pressure pushing at him from inside as well as out.
"You are so beautiful," he announced as he eased the bikini panties down her long slender legs. "You've got the sexiest knees and ankles."
Growling with pleasure, Damon shimmied out of his clothes and took time only to sheathe himself before kissing her again. She was wet and near to weeping with pleasure when he raised himself above her and found the treasure he sought. She gasped as he started to slide in. She was tight and Damon thought he was going to die if he didn't get to get all the way in the next second.
She whispered his name across his neck and arched her back. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he lifted her up a little bit and tried to push all the way in. When he met the unexpected veil of resistance, he paused and looked down at her with a bewildered expression.
"What the hell Elena?"
She gave her head a little shake and lifted her other leg up around his hip and moved against him in a way that made Damon uttered every swear word he knew. "Don't stop. Damon, please don't stop." She was breathy and it was too late for that to be an option anyway. She felt better than anything he had ever felt in his life and there was no way he was going to stop now. He let the fingers of one hand tangle in her hair and propped his weight up on the other so that he wasn't crushing her and went about having the best sex of his life with a god damn lying virgin.
She moved just the way he wanted her to, she touched him in ways that would wake him up in the middle of the night remembering them, she kissed him like she had been created to do it exactly the way he liked, she matched his rhythm the way only people that had lots and lots of sex together normally managed to do and every time she whispered his name or made a sexy sound of satisfaction and delight it made him felt ten feet tall. They moved together, she arched her back and put her hands back on his head.
"Oh my God, Damon." She was close; he could feel the little tremors all along his body. There was no way he was going to ruin this for her so he touched her in a way that was guaranteed to make her shatter and was rewarded with wide eyes and a gasp of surrender. He was super relieved because he wasn't going to last much longer. He buried his nose in her neck and followed her over the edge.
He collapsed against her, his skin fiery, his breathing laboured, and then he moved onto his side to keep himself from crushing her, taking her with him, his arm around her back, his fingers buried in the bunched satin of her hair. Silent, floating, still intimately joined to her, he let his hand drift up and down her spine, revelling in the sensation of being held inside her wet warmth and the brush of her lips against his collarbone. He closed his eyes, savouring it and felt her breathing even out and realized she was falling asleep.
What the hell had he done? And what in the hell had Tyler been doing with her if he hadn't been sleeping with her? There were so many unanswered questions. He'd let her sleep for a while, he decided, and himself too. Then he would wake her up and make love to her more properly and thoroughly. After that they would talk. They had to talk.
An hour later, Elena carefully eased Damon's arm from her and slid noiselessly from the bed. She paused to look back and make sure she hadn't wakened him. In sleep, there was even more strength in his features, a kind of hard pride that was usually masked by a smile. She stared for a moment, remembering again that absolute rawness of emotion, so powerful and so beautiful…much more than excitement, much more than exquisite release. Somehow, she had done an incredibly foolish thing. But in her heart, she knew she would never see him again. She would forget him. It would just take time. An uncomfortable weight settled on her chest, hard, heavy and totally crushing.
For the first time in her life, Elena Gilbert felt like she was lying to herself.
Nudged from his sleep by the sound of his phone ringing, Damon opened his eyes and stared in mild confusion at the empty pillow beside him. The memories from the night before slammed into his head. Elena was gone. He groaned and threw an arm over his eyes while answering the call.
"Hello…"
"It certainly took you long enough, Damon."
He recognised the voice immediately. It was Stefan.
"What's up brother?"
"Dr Maxfield just called me. It's about dad."
He stiffened. "What's wrong?"
There was silence for a moment.
"Dad has lymphoma."