Elena took a quick shower and blew out her hair before excitedly rummaging through her luggage to find something to wear to the casino. She wasn't sure exactly how to dress, so she went with a pretty flowy top and some jeans. She was checking her reflection in the mirror when there was a knock at her door.

"Come in," she called, knowing who it was. The door opened and Damon entered, and when Elena turned to grab her purse, she stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him.

Damon was stunning. His hair was still wet from his shower, and his smell filled the room when he walked into it. He was dressed in black pants, black suit jacket, and a white button down shirt with the top buttons ajar. That's right, white. Elena had never seen Damon in anything but black, and she now decided that that was most likely a good thing, considering the reaction she was having.

"I know that I am absolutely mouth wateringly gorgeous, Elena, but you're drooling and frankly that's just embarrassing for you. But I'm extremely flattered." She snapped out of her daze and then Damon looked her over. "You're seriously wearing that?"

"What?" she asked, looking down at her outfit and shrugging.

"We're making a pit stop on the way," Damon said with a roll of his eyes, grabbing Elena's hand and leaving her room.

"Why are we stopping here?" Elena asked as Damon pulled into a boutique of some sorts.

"Because you are going to walk in there and find seven different dresses for each night that we are here," he replied in a very "duh" tone.

"But I'm fine with what I have and besides, I can't really afford this when I'm about to lose my savings gambling."

Damon rolled his eyes, exasperated, and exited the car. Before she could open her door it was already open, and Damon stood with his hand out to help her out of the Porsche. "Let's just say this one's on me, okay?"

Elena wanted to argue but arguments with Damon were usually pointless. She took his hand and muttered, "Oh joy, shopping."

"You're a girl, you're supposed to like shopping," Damon replied as they walked in the store, only noticing how long he had held on to her hand when she discreetly reclaimed it. "Besides, I doubt you have a problem finding things that look good on you seeing as you're perfect."

Elena blushed involuntarily, and Damon would have flushed too if his body were capable of it. Obviously that was not something he could say to Elena in a "friend" capacity. But then again, wasn't he here to surpass that particular status once and for all?

Elena looked slowly through the racks of clothes, and Damon occupied himself by watching her, memorizing the way she moved, the way she walked, the way she squinted at price tags even though she knew she wasn't going to be paying a dime. He loved the way she'd flip her soft blonde hair out of the way when it started to annoy her, and how her eyes would get big when she found a dress she really liked. She seemed to be avoiding eye contact with him, and Damon considered that a small victory. He was getting to her. As much as his color would always be black, he knew to break out the white when he was serious about seduction. And it was working - Elena may have been avoiding his eyes, but she was sneaking many glances at the rest of him.

Armed with six dresses, Elena disappeared into a fitting room and Damon sat down, waiting for her to come out and play model in each of the dresses. In between the fourth and fifth dress, a glimmer of midnight blue caught Damon's eye from a nearby rack. On a whim, he got up to inspect the fabric.

The dress was pure silk, midnight blue with gold flecks streamed through it. It was as if it had been made to resemble Elena's lapis lazuli eyes. Damon checked the size and brought it to the dressing room, where he knocked gently.

"I found your seventh dress," Damon announced with pride.

"Okay, hold on, I'm naked."

"'Come on in, Damon, I'm naked'? My pleasure," Damon smirked, gaining the attention of several shoppers.

Elena opened the door and held out her hand. "Guess I walked into that one." She looked at the dress and smiled. "Well, I think I know why you picked this one."

Damon shrugged. "It doesn't compare to the real thing."

Elena grabbed the dress and closed the door before he could see her blush again.

Come on, Elena, pull yourself together. You can't let yourself go down that road again, Elena told herself repeatedly as she stepped into the dress. Somewhere in her mind, she decided that if she couldn't change the effect that Damon had on her, then she would live in intense, unyielding denial of it. What else could she do?

When she walked out of the dressing room, Damon's eyes took her in and Elena suddenly felt uncomfortable. She had seen this look in his eyes before - hungry, focused, passionate, determined to have her - and she knew what it meant. Guilt then overtook her.

Here she was, a matter of days before her wedding to Stefan, and she was torturing his brother who was just as deeply in love with her as Stefan was. Wonderful. What a wonderful future sister-in-law. What a wonderful future wife.

"You're beautiful," Damon said quietly, breaking the silence. Elena's eyes grew sad and she turned away and went back into the dressing room. Damon sighed deeply and clenched his fists in frustration.

When Elena re-emerged, Damon took the dresses from her and paid for them in silence. Elena chose to wear the third dress, a black cocktail dress, and knew she'd never wear the blue one. Not after Damon's reaction. She'd sneak out and return it, somehow, she decided.

The car ride to the casino was dead silent, save for the almost inaudible purr off the engine. Elena was as still as a statue, wishing something, anything, would happen, just so the silence would break.

Then her phone went off, causing both Damon and Elena to jump silently. Elena fished it out of her bag and flipped it open, reading a new text from Stefan.

Stefan. Why did his name make her feel so guilty? What had she done wrong?

I love you, my beautiful fiancée, the text read. I miss you so much.

I love you too, Elena replied. Having fun in Italy?

Not as much as I would be having if I were with you. What are you up to?

Elena gulped. Not much.

"What's wrong?" Damon asked.

"Nothing," Elena sighed. "I just hate lying."

Then stop lying to yourself, Damon almost said.

Inside a very ritzy casino, Damon threw back his fifth glass of Scotch and Elena drank up her (first? second?) fruity cocktail like it was Kool-Aid. This wasn't going according to plan.

"Why am I losing?" Elena bemoaned, watching as yet more of her money was lost to some fat guy chewing on a cigar across the blackjack table.

"Because you won't let me Influence the dealer," Damon replied, sitting next to her and attempting to coach her on the finer points of successful gambling.

Elena sighed. "Maybe gambling isn't my thing."

"Maybe you should have used my money like I offered."

"Whatever, this is just Stefan's money, anyway," she said flippantly. She then realized what she had just said and muttered, "I need another cocktail."

"Noted," Damon replied, getting up. When he returned he had both a cocktail for Elena and an entire bottle of Scotch for himself.

Elena sipped her glass and eyed Damon in confusion. "Can you even get drunk?"

"If I drank about six of these, yes," he replied. "That's not why I'm drinking. It calms the cravings."

"Oh, Damon. When was the last time you…"

"You just won," Damon pointed out, interrupting her.

"What?" Elena looked down at the table and then started squealing. "Oh my God! I won!"

Her luck seemed to have turned around, and she continued winning. She quit only when Damon advised it, and walked away from the blackjack table with $500 she didn't have before.

On their way to a poker table, Elena remembered what she had been so vexed about before she had starting winning and got distracted. "Damon, when was the last time you fed?"

"I'm fine, Elena," he muttered, taking a swig out of his Scotch bottle.

"I've heard that before," Elena replied. "Let's just go and you can find some… dinner."

"Who says we have to go somewhere else for me to find dinner?"

"Okay, so go find somebody, I'll be at the poker table," Elena shrugged.

"And leave you alone, unprotected, in Las Vegas?" Damon seemed appalled by the idea.

"We're in a very high class casino, Damon, I think I'll be fine."

"Doesn't matter. I'm fine. C'mon, what happened to fun, reckless Elena?" Damon asked good-naturedly, poking her with an elbow.

"Well, I kinda don't want the vampire escorting me through Vegas to starve himself and end up binging and leave a trail of dead bodies in our wake," Elena whispered just in case anyone else could hear her. "I also don't want to be guilted into giving you my blood to prevent that rampage."

Elena knew that the difference between her blood and the average human's blood was like the difference between the finely aged Scotch in Damon's hand and cheap, off brand tequila. She also knew that just being in the same room as Damon was enough to drive him mad with desire for her blood. Yet he desired her in an altogether different way, and far more in that way than he desired her blood. She wondered how he didn't go mad with frustration and anger.

"Fine, I will feed tonight, after we get back to the hotel. Is that okay with you, Mom?" Damon compromised, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over his arm.

Elena had to wonder why he didn't wear white all the time. The way it contrasted with his skin, his hair, the way the fabric clung to his muscles, the way it made her…

Oh my God, Elena screamed inside her head, hoping he hadn't noticed her staring. He did. I'm so screwed.