Hi darlings! Another update, much earlier than expected due to the loveliness that came as a response to the first chapter.

I got the sweetest message from one of you sweeties and it made me tear up, it really did. I really do hope that by making Elena a bigger size, I'll be making at least a few of you see how beautiful you are.

I really, really hope you like this chapter. It's really long but I simply couldn't just jam it into a three thousand worder.

Enjoy!

OOO

"Hello, Cloud 9 bakery, how can I help you?" I chirped cheerfully into the earpiece. "You want to order thirty cupcakes for this afternoon? Any particular flavour or…ok, yep. Red velvet with Italian Meringue Buttercream. Perfect. Ok, so that's going to come to $45, so you can pay when you pick them up. Your order number is 102, so if you tell the cashier that when you arrive, she'll know that they're yours. Sound good? Ok, great. Thank you!"

Hanging up, I scribbled down the order and dropped it off into the kitchen. Thankfully, both our sales girl Lorie and our head baker Vanessa were back from being sick so the bakery was running smoothly again. (Plus Vanessa being back meant that I didn't have to handle Joanne by myself.)

Sitting back down in my office, I glanced longingly at the clock. I loved my job but today was dragging by – it had just gone twelve o' clock, when it felt like it should have been four. Plus, I was starving and although yes, I could easily have snaffled a cupcake or a pastry, I tried not to eat the cakes unless I was having a serious sugar craving – otherwise I would have been the size of a house.

The bakery had been pretty busy all day – the little bell above the door had barely stopped chiming all morning, music to my ears. So it was a surprise to look up at a light knock on the door and see Lorie standing there nervously.

"Lorie, why aren't you out there with the customers?" I asked in slight panic.

"I'll get back out there right now, just…someone came in saying that he had a meeting with Ricki in a few minutes, but I know Ricki's not here yet so I thought I'd just send him into you?"

I sighed, already knowing who was going to walk in. "Yeah, sure. Send him in."

She smiled in relief and stepped back to allow Damon Salvatore to step into my office. He smiled at her and she practically melted to the floor before doing what was effectively a half curtsy and scuttling away.

Damon turned to me with a grin and I smiled back, thinking it slightly strange that Ricki had agreed to meet him so quickly.

"I see you're back running the place from behind the scenes." He said, looking around.

I suddenly felt self-conscious of my little office, decorated with bright fake flowers and bookshelves full of bright pink folders.

"Well yeah, everyone's back so it's all go again." I felt disgustingly shy, something I hated.

He turned back around to me and I found it hard to get my head around how this man was possibly the richest person I would ever meet.

"Did you look me up?" He asked, smirking and I nodded, the feeling of reverence gone as I was reminded of his arrogance.

"I did. In case you're not aware, Mr. Salvatore, you're quite successful and rich."

He properly laughed then, a huge delighted sound that filled my office. "I suppose that that's one way of summing me up Elena, yes."

I ignored the slight thrill that went up my back that he remembered my name and continued on. "What I want to know is what you want with my bakery."

He shrugged. "I want to buy it."

Instantly my good mood vanished. It felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over me. "Why would you want to do that?" I asked faintly and he raised an eyebrow at me incredulously.

"Well you saw that my most famous business method is 'buy and improve', right? That's what I want to do with this place."

"Well." I said, searching around for something to do with my hands. I settled on fidgeting with a folder. "Well. I'm terribly sorry, but the bakery isn't for sale."

He looked amused. "Oh we'll see about that."

Before I could respond, a tall woman with red hair piled onto the top of her head appeared in the doorway. "Oh I am so sorry that I'm late!" She exclaimed loudly in a Southern accent, dumping a pile of folders onto my desk.

"Hi Ricki." I said tightly, and she kissed me on both cheeks before turning with a huge smile to Damon, who was looking bemused.

"Hello darling! Thank you so much for coming in to talk to me, we're delighted to welcome you." She beamed and Damon nodded graciously, shaking her outstretched hand.

"So do you want me to leave the two of you to talk?" I asked, trying not to sound as annoyed as I felt that this was taking place in my office. Ricki turned to me looking appalled.
"Oh darling, don't be ridiculous! Of course you'll stay here. Everybody sit, please."

Ricki's personality was a lot to take in at first, but to honest, I was used to it by now.

We all sat, and Ricki turned to Damon. "So my darling, when you rang me yesterday, you mentioned that you wanted to buy Cloud 9."

"Which I told him was ridiculous, because it's not for sale." I said hotly and the two of them glanced at me, Damon in amusement and Ricki in disapproval.

"Well now Elena sweetheart, that's actually not true." She said slightly sternly and I stared at her.

"Excuse me?"

She sighed, throwing her hands up in a 'what can I do' motion. "It depends on what Mr. Salvatore is offering."

I stood up abruptly. "Ricki, could I talk to you for a moment?" I asked furiously. "Alone?"

She hesitated but then stood up. "We'll be just a moment." She said kindly to Damon, who lolled back in his chair and told us to take our time.

As soon as we had got outside her office, I yanked the door shut with a slam and spun around to her.

"What do you think you're doing?" I whisper-yelled. "You're just going to sell the place and you weren't going to tell me?"

"Oh Elena, don't be so dramatic, it's just a meeting –"

"No, I will be dramatic, Ricki." I snapped. "You know how much this place means to me, not to mention the staff that work here – are you just going to kick them out on the street, me with them? I'd have thought that you'd feel like you owed us the respect of –"

"Now that's enough, Elena." She cut in, glaring at me. "You know that you are like a daughter to me and I would never intentionally hurt you. But I'm the owner of this place and I do have the right to do what I think is best for it, and you, not to mention myself. Ok?"

I nodded, crossing my arms and trying not to look too much like a sulky teenager, even if it was exactly how I felt.

"I'm glad we're on the same page. Now pull on your big girl panties -" I ignored the irony in this phrase. "And go back inside." She patted my arm and then opened the door to the office again and nudging my back gently. I trudged back in, ignoring Damon as much as I could and slumped back onto my chair.

"Now, Mr. Salvatore, where were we?" Ricki asked brightly, no trace of her previous irritation in her voice.

"Well, like I said on the phone, Ms. Greene, I'm willing to offer a very generous sum." Damon said seriously. "Now I personally don't like to talk about money but I have written down the sum which I'd be willing to pay to buy this place."

He opened his stupid, fancy suit jacket and produced a piece of folded paper which he handed to Ricki. She opened it and read the figure inside before going pale and visibly gulping.

"Right." She said faintly. "Well that's…I mean it's more than reasonable."

She slid the piece of paper across the desk to me and I glanced at Damon suspiciously before opening it.

"Holy Christ." I stared down at the figure with a lot of zeros at the end of it incredulously. "That's…well that's just ridiculous."

Damon shrugged, reaching over and taking the piece of paper from me. "What can I say? I like to get what I want."

"I don't understand why you even want this place." I muttered, still stunned.

"Who wouldn't want it? With the cupcake craze just gone and the huge rise in baking in general, bakeries have never been as popular or profitable. This bakery is in a great location and I understand that you own the property, gifted to you by your father, Ms. Greene?"
Ricki nodded and he continued. "Even better - no rent to pay. Plus Mystic Falls is my hometown – there's a touch of sentimentality about it. I've wanted to break into the baked goods industry for a long time, and this is where I want to start."

"So what, you just buy out the place, sweep in and replace all of the staff and make it your own?" I snapped and he raised an eyebrow at me.

"Easy tiger. Not necessarily. That was something else I wanted to ask Ms. Greene about, whether she had any staff she particularly valued that I should keep on. The rest, I will obviously help find employment elsewhere."

I glared at him. "So you've already got it figured that the place is going to be yours then, huh? Well isn't that just delightfully arrogant."

"Well I'm sorry Ms. Gilbert, but generally being as successful as I am makes a person confident." He shot back, and I scowled at him.

"Ok, that's enough with the bickering, you two." Ricki interrupted. "And listen, Mr. Salvatore, you've made a very generous offer but I couldn't possibly sell the bakery –"

I whooped but quietened down once she shot me a withering look. "Allow me to clarify. I couldn't possibly decide to sell the bakery without dedicating some thought to it."

Wait, what had she said? I stared at her, feeling dangerously close to tears.

Damon looked irritated. "While I understand that entirely Ms. Greene, I will have to agree a date with you to receive your decision, because there's only so much time I can spend waiting around."

"Yes, yes of course."

I gaped at her, willing her silently to realise how crazy she was being. But instead she just massaged her forehead, the various bangles on her wrist jingling. "I'll tell you what. I'll get back to you in two weeks from today with my decision. Deal?"

Damon looked less than pleased with this arrangement but clearly knew better than to argue. "Deal." He agreed, shaking her hand.

"And as for employees I think you should hire, there's only one."

Damon leaned forward, looking interested. "Really? And who's that?"

I raised an eyebrow at her. Who was that? I mean yeah, our staff was great but they were fundamentally replaceable.

To my huge surprise, she pointed at me. "This lady right here."

Damon glanced at me with a smirk while Ricki continued. "You want your business to succeed, you get her on board. She has built this place up and I can guarantee you that the place will fail if you don't have her too."

"Well that's a lovely sentiment, Ricki, but I don't think that I'd feel comfortable working for Mr. Salvatore." I protested through gritted teeth.

Ricki waved a hand dismissively. "She's a delight once you get to know her." She said to Damon. "Honestly, spend time with the girl, turn up the charm and you'll have a loyal employee for life."

"Ricki, I'm right here."

"Oh honey, you know it's true." She glanced between the two us, pursing her lips. "I think what the two of you need to do is spend time with each other."

This earned a delighted laugh from Damon and a snort from me. "No, I'm serious!" Ricki protested. She sat quietly for a moment before practically lighting up. "In fact, in order for me to consider both sides of the coin, I insist that you both spend at least an hour a day together. If I decide to sell the place, I do want you to continue working in whatever the bakery becomes, Elena. And if I decide to keep it, we'll be happy to act as consultants for any other bakery you open, Mr. Salvatore."

"That's very generous of you, Ms. Greene." Damon said, sounding slightly bewildered. I doubt that he had ever had someone order him around in his entire working life. "And I'm sure that Ms. Gilbert and I would get on like a house on fire."

I rolled my eyes at this.

She turned to me. "And?" She asked expectantly, raising an eyebrow.

I stared at her. "Ricki, you can't be serious about this." I said in disbelief and she narrowed her eyes.

"Elena, I am deathly serious. Now do you agree or will I just sell the place right now?"

Was this middle aged woman threatening me? Was she actually serious? Much to my dismay, she did seem to be and so I crossed my arms, resisting the urge to stamp my foot. "Fine. An hour, no more." I muttered.

Ricki clapped her hands together. "Excellent. I'm delighted." She gestured for us to stand up and we both did, as though she was the teacher and we were little schoolchildren. "Elena, would you mind walking Mr. Salvatore to the door?"

"I'd be delighted." I said through gritted teeth.

"In fact, why not start up your time together now?" She continued. I was seriously wondering whether she had a grudge against me about something, the way she was carrying on.

"Well it's not actually my lunch break yet, Ricki." I said, trying not to sound too gleeful.

"Don't be silly, my darling. We'll let you take an early lunch break for once in your life!" She shook her head at Damon, smiling fondly like I was a puppy who kept misbehaving. "The girl does not know how to relax."

"Ricki!" I hissed, horrified. Damon grinned at me over Ricki's head.

"Well don't worry Ms. Greene," He drawled. "I'll make sure she has a great time."

I rolled my eyes and grabbed my coat off the back of my chair. "Well you're buying lunch." I grumbled as I brushed past him out into the bakery and he snorted, following me out.

Just as we reached the door, he stopped. "Actually," He said apologetically with a face that looked anything but. "I forgot. I ordered a batch of cupcakes to take back to the office. Red velvet with Italian meringue buttercream?"

"That was you?" I snapped before reigning myself in. "Ahem. Do you have your order number?"

"102." He said smugly and I tried to think of a reason to not give them to him. Plus, how did he know what Italian meringue buttercream was?

"Well. I'll check, but I doubt that they're ready." I stomped – walked – past him to check in the kitchen, praying that they weren't just so that I could spite him, if even a little bit. "You really should have said that you wanted them quickly." I said over my shoulder, trying to find any little way to get a dig in.

"I'll try harder next time." He said sarcastically. "I know that cupcakes are truly a difficult and time consuming thing to make."

Oh that was it. I spun around, causing him to nearly crash into me.

"Do not make fun of me." I snarled. "If we're going to spend time together, it'll already be like having teeth pulled without anaesthetic but I will not tolerate you mocking me."

He held up his hands. "Easy tiger." He said in what I assumed he thought was a soothing voice. "I was just messing around."

I huffed but continued on to the kitchen, returning, slightly gleeful, to tell him that although the cupcakes had been baked, they hadn't been iced yet and the bakers were extremely busy and didn't possibly have the time to spare to go off track. Unfortunately for me, it was at this point that Ricki chose to appear.

"Well Elena darling, why don't you just ice them?"

Thoroughly trapped in a corner at this stage, I stamped – no pretence about it this time – back into the kitchen, grabbing an apron and looped it over my head. I scowled when I saw Damon leaning in the doorway, watching me, but continued on, scooping a few dollops of Italian buttercream (that we made fresh in the bakery every day – I always insisted on using our own products.) into a bowl and on my way back to the counter, picked up a disposable piping bag and after a moment, decided on a Wilton #1M tip, the classic. There was a small part of me that debated over messing up the cupcakes but even I couldn't sink to messing up my goods deliberately.

I made quick work of fitting the tip into the bag and filling it with the icing, before beginning to swirl it onto the cupcakes. This always calmed me down – I had been doing it since I was a little girl and it felt familiar and comforting. I got into a rhythm and finished the entire batch in about two minutes and then once I had squeezed the rest of the icing back into the original bowl, decided on bright multi-coloured circular sprinkles. I scattered them over the batch, stepped back to make sure everything was perfect and after a few tweaks, – a sprinkle here or there – they were.

"Joanne!" I called towards the general direction of running feet. "Where do we keep the boxes?"

"Cupboard to your left!" was the response I got, and to my surprise, it was actually right. I managed to find one that actually fit thirty and plopped them in, one by one before sealing it with a Cloud 9 sticker and then finishing it off with a pearly white ribbon.

I looked up to find Damon staring at me in the intense way that he had done the day before. A lazy smile spread across his face as his gaze flicked from me to the box. "Well well well, Ms. Gilbert." He murmured. "Consider me impressed."

I blushed stupidly and picked up the box, practically shoving it at him. "It's nothing." I muttered. "Let's just go and get this over with."

Was it possible to both hate someone and want to impress them?

"Oh, and that'll cost $45." I said as we walked past the till.

"Of course. Take these for a moment?" He handed me the box and I cradled it gently as he produced a wad of dollars from a very full wallet.

Joanne rang the order up with a dreamy smile on her face. "Thanks darling." He said as he handed her the money and she practically swooned. As she handed her the change, I could have sworn that he…oh my God, he actually winked at her and she giggled like a twelve year old school girl as he slotted the money back into his wallet, looking like a cat that had got the cream.

"I'm pretty sure that that's sexual harassment." I muttered, handing him the box and pulling on my coat. (A bright yellow trench coat with a floral lining – one of the few pieces of clothing that I positively adored.)

"I think it's only sexual harassment if one of the parties doesn't want to be a part of it." He said as he held open the door for me, – damn gentleman – sounding altogether too pleased with himself. "So what's the plan? Any preferences for lunch?"

"I don't mind. I'm sure you're the expert." I said snarkily and he laughed.

"Well it's easy to see that you're going to be a bundle of joy to be around. Tell you what, we'll drop these into the office and then we can figure out where we're going."

"You want us to take the same car?" I asked, faintly surprised and he looked at me like I was crazy.

"Obviously. No point in wasting petrol, is there?"

"No, I know, I just…yeah, whatever. You want to take your car, I presume?"

He smiled boyishly. "You're getting to know me so well, Ms. Gilbert. I parked it over here, come on."

To my immense surprise, (not) he drove a Jaguar, all shiny black and brown leather seats. He held the door open for me to get into the car and I sat in as gracefully as I could, (that being not very, in my case) hoping that he didn't notice that the car sank just a tiny bit when I sat in it. I had a feeling that Damon Salvatore hung around mainly with size two supermodels in his spare time.

He got in beside me, handed me the box of cupcakes and then the car purred to life and we were on our way.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, although he seemed comfortable with the quiet. I, on the other hand, was one of those people who needed to constantly fill the silence and so found it pretty weird. Anytime I tried to think of something to say, it seemed stupid and I really wasn't in the mood for him laughing at me again.

"So, Ms. Gilbert," He said finally, rounding a corner smoothly. "Tell me about yourself."

"What do you want to know?" I said after a moment, staring resolutely out the window.

"I don't know, whatever you see fit. Tell me how you got into baking."

I blinked at him. I had never had anyone ask me that before, mainly because everyone just accepted it as a fact that I had been doing it forever.

"I...don't actually know." I said honestly and he shot me a confused glance.

"How can you not know?"

"I mean, I started when I was about eleven but I don't remember what made me pick up a book and start."

"Did your mom bake?" He pressed and I shook my head.

"No, it was only me. I just remember figuring out that I could make gingerbread biscuits well and after that, I used to make nearly a batch a day. None of us even liked gingerbread biscuits but my parents saw that it made me happy so they didn't complain."

He laughed, his eyes crinkling up and I continued, feeling slightly encouraged.

"And I guess I just kept practicing, because I got better and better and then I became the resident baker in my house. I made the desserts if my parents ever had dinner parties, I made people's birthday cakes, I baked cookies for all of my friends. It was one of the only things that I was passionate about, really."

"Did you always want to work in a bakery?" He asked, sounding interested enough and I shrugged.

"I started to want to once I realised that I was good enough. Well no, that's not true – I've always wanted to own my own bakery. But realistically, I don't have the money right now and I love Cloud 9, so I'm content for the time being. It's great to be able to get such good experience."

"Is that why you don't want me to buy the place?"

I felt anger bubble back up inside of me again. "I guess." I muttered, turning back out to the window and he groaned.

"Don't turn off on me now, we were just getting started! I'm serious, I want you to tell me why you don't want me to buy the place, because it seems like more than just disappointment that Ricki won't own it anymore."

I hesitated.

"Come on, I won't bite." He coaxed and then the dam burst.

"Bakeries aren't meant to be owned by huge corporations!" I exclaimed. "They're….they're meant to be owned by people who are actually passionate about them, who've dreamed of opening them their entire lives! Not just by a group of faceless people who want to make money, which, to me Damon Salvatore, is what you are. Anyone can churn out some boxed cake mix, Jesus – that doesn't take any skill, or any love for the cake itself!"

Damon held up a hand. "May I just interject –"

"No!" I snapped. "On top of that, I think corporations are downright evil and as someone who is a member of a small business, I know that having someone just opening up shops left right and centre is extremely damaging to business. People are people, something you all seem to forget sometimes."

There was silence for a moment and I wondered whether I had hurt his feelings. And then…a chuckle?

"Well please; tell me what you really think." He said sarcastically and I turned around to snap at him about the mocking thing before realising that we had pulled up outside a sleek office building.

"I'm going to drop these –" He plucked the box of cupcakes off of my lap. "Into reception for Dianne to hand them around and then you and I are going to go for lunch and we will debunk any ideas that you may have about my company. Ok?"

"You can try." I said coldly and he rolled his eyes before getting out and nudging the door shut behind him.

In the silence that followed, I drummed my fingers on the door handle, wondering what on earth I was doing. I knew that I was acting like a petulant child but at the same time, I didn't want to be a pushover and take this guy taking my bakery away from me lying down. I mean, I hated him.

Didn't I?

I was shaken out of my thoughts when he opened the car door and sat back in.

"Well I assure you that those will be very much appreciated. Now, lunch. I know a little café just a few minutes from here. Serves all sorts of sandwiches, soups, that kind of thing, everything's delicious. Sound good?"

"What's it called?" I asked, curious in spite of myself and he answered as he started up the car.

"It's called the Lemon. Just off Elm Street."

"That's actually one of my favourite cafés." I said, surprised that someone like him would go to somewhere like the Lemon. "I'm usually the one recommending it to the people though. How do you know it?"

"I know the owner, he's a childhood friend."

"You know Zach?" I asked, even more surprised. Zach and I had got to know each other over my few years going to the café. He was possibly the most flamboyant man I had ever met in my life – I had never seen the man not wearing some piece of sparkly clothing (and matching eyeliner) along with his hair combed into elaborate different styles. Anytime I asked him about his life, he ended up talking for at least half an hour about whatever problems he was having with his older boyfriend, Martin, who was basically a stereotypical rugged, silent man. I couldn't imagine Damon hanging out with him.

When we arrived into the café, I inhaled the warm smell of tea and toast and various cakes. The place was adorable, with distressed wood tables and bright, cheery pictures on the walls. Damon led us to a table for two near the window – I didn't mention that it was the table that I always chose to sit at too.

The waitress came and took our orders – for him, a roast vegetable wrap and for me a ham and cheese Panini. A part of me felt slightly uncomfortable as I ordered mine – was he secretly sitting back and thinking 'this girl should really order a salad.'? But then I reminded myself that I didn't care about Damon Salvatore's opinion – and on top of that, he was glancing at his phone, so I didn't think he had even heard what I had ordered.

The waitress left us two glasses of water and left, – although not without several coy glances at Damon – promising that the sandwiches would be just a few minutes.

"So, while we wait, I want to talk to you about some of these notions you have about 'corporations'. Mainly tell you how wrong they are." He said, and I rolled my eyes, taking a sip of water.

"Please, enlighten me." I said dryly.

"Well I can't talk to you about other companies but I can tell you about the ethics of mine. Every single product produced is made with the guarantee that it's Fair Trade and that the workers receive full rights, whether it's made over here in America or somewhere else in the world. We pay our lowest level workers four dollars more per hour than whatever the minimum wage is in that state and require every full time employee to take at least two weeks paid holiday per year – and they're allowed seven separate sick days."

He paused to take a sip of water while I stared at him, feeling slightly overwhelmed at this long list of niceties.

"As for setting up shops in small towns," He continued. "I do agree with you that it often hurts small businesses which is why before setting up a shop in a town, we try to negotiate with the shops around to carry our products, allowing them to make a profit, as do we. If that doesn't work out, we evaluate whether we really need to put the shop into that town – whether it'd really be worth the trouble. If we do, we set it up far enough away from the small businesses so that their daily footfall won't be affected."

"You…you can't be serious." I said in disbelief. "Surely you don't do that for every single shop."

He shrugged. "What can I say? My father was a shop owner, so protecting them has a place in my heart I guess. As for the buy and improve method, that's more of my own personal hobby."

"A hobby that makes you millions of dollars a year." I muttered into my glass and he laughed.

"It's a good hobby to have." He admitted with a grin, as the waitress arrived with two plates. She set down my Panini in front of me and I nearly groaned out loud at how good it smelled.

"You two enjoy now." She said, focusing entirely on Damon as she handed him the plate, leaning forward to ensure that he got a good view of her cleavage as she batted her eyelids. "And call me if you need anything." Good grief. This woman was setting the feminist movement back by about fifty years.

Damon smiled at her indulgently but didn't appear too interested in flirting back, shooting me the odd amused smile when she was fussing around. Finally, she gave up and left us in peace.

"Does that happen often?" I asked in a hushed tone, picking up one half of the sandwich. "Do women just constantly hit on you?"

"It's a constant hardship." He said seriously and I laughed.

The next few minutes were silent aside from chewing as we both ate our sandwiches, unable to do anything to make 'mmm-hmm' noises at the sheer deliciousness of them.

When the last crumb had been licked from the plate and we were both slumped back in our chairs, full to the brim, he grinned at me lazily. "I love," He said seriously. "A woman who eats."

A blush spread across my cheeks and I quickly glanced down. Coming from anyone else, it would have sounded sleazy but Damon Salvatore managed to somehow pull it off without sounding like a creep. Still, was he making fun of me? "Don't be stupid." I muttered, slightly flustered. "What time is it anyway? I'm sure I should be back at work any minute soon."

He glanced at his watch. "It's only half one darling, you've plenty of time. I do want to talk about what our arrangements for the next two weeks will be though."

"What? Oh, right. Well I'm sure Ricki won't actually expect us to meet every day."

"No, but I don't want to take the chance. Plus, Ms. Gilbert," He said, leaning forward across the table and looking at me intensely. "I want to get to know you."

"Why would you want to do that?" I asked sceptically. "I'm sarcastic and mean. I'm not the nicest person to have around."

He laughed. "Sarcastic and mean is exactly my kind of person. Plus, I believe Ricki – I think that you have a huge passion for this and if I end up getting the shop, I'd hope that you'd help me run it."

I winced at the 'if I end up getting the shop'. "Listen." I said, pressing my fingertips together. "I have a proposition."

"I'm intrigued."

"If we're going to spend two weeks – fourteen hours, if you will – together, I'm going to propose that we don't talk about the possibility of you getting the bakery or me keeping the bakery at all. Otherwise we're just going to end up bickering."

He considered this. "That's actually…very clever." He said slowly, ignoring my smug look. "So no mention of the selling of the bakery at all?"

"None." I said seriously, offering him a hand. "Deal?"

He shook my hand and I was proud of my palms for not being sweaty. (Was that weird?)

"I have a feeling that it's going to be the start of a beautiful, albeit temporary friendship, Ms. Gilbert."

OOO

After he had paid the bill – much to my protest, although he ended up winning the argument by reminding me that he was a multi-millionaire and twenty dollars wasn't going to set him back too much – he offered to drive me back to the bakery. In the car on the way home, conversation flowed a little more easily than before.

"Actually, these two weeks are going to be pretty hectic for me." He said as we came to the lights just before the turn for the bakery. "I have a few different events going on, plus my brother's coming into town. But don't worry –" He grinned at me. "I'll make sure to slot you in."

I smiled shyly back. Now that my fury had worn off, having heard how…truthfully, great his company seemed to be, I was becoming more and more aware of the fact that I was sitting next to…well, Damon Salvatore.

"Well here we are. First hour finished." He said cheerfully as we pulled up outside Cloud 9. "Should we exchange numbers and I'll give you a call tonight about what the hour will consist of tomorrow?"

I laughed, pulling my phone out of my pocket and handed it to him so that he could put in his number, and he did the same for me. (Although more closely making sure that I didn't tap into any other files or messages.)

"I dread to think what number girl I am in here." I said wryly.

"There's a lot." He admitted before handing my phone back to me with a cheesy grin. "Although none as beautiful as you, Ms. Gilbert."

"I'm sure that I drive you crazy with lust, Salvatore." I laughed as I handed him back his phone. "But the flirting will have to calm down if you want this friendship to work." The idea that Damon would actually want me was crazy but the word lust conjured an image of he and I…kissing? It was only there for a moment and I banished it to the back of my mind quickly. Where had it even come from?

I blinked and found him looking at me with slight concern. "You ok, Gilbert?"

"Yes!" I said, possibly a touch too brightly. "I just zoned out, sorry. I had better...I'll get back to the bakery. Talk to you later?" The words made it sound like I thought that we were some high school couple and I cursed myself.

But he didn't seem to notice too much and instead saluted me with a single finger. "You got it darling."

I hopped out of the car and ran-jogged to the front door of the bakery and then turned to give him a little wave. He waved back, albeit with an amused eye roll and then drove away, leaving me with a tiny smile and the thought that maybe Damon Salvatore wasn't as bad as I had thought.

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