Tatia worked overtime that night. After the phone call with Kol, she still couldn't stop thinking about what Mason might've told Elijah. She wouldn't put it past Mason to tell Elijah everything she felt for him. She was nervous all day, tapping on her desk and twirling her hair. Thank god Elijah couldn't see her from his desk.

Apparently Elijah had worked overtime, too, for his light shut out at around 8PM that night. Tatia's head went up, and she started fidgeting uncontrollably when she realized it was Elijah who was still here. She had had so many fantasies about a moment like this…two people alone in an office at night…. God, she had to stop doing that. It wasn't good for her at all.

Elijah walked past her on his way out. "Good night, Tatia," he said to her. His accent wasn't a normal British one. She couldn't pinpoint what it was; all she knew was that it was sexy beyond belief.

She nodded in response. "Night, Elijah…." Her eyes followed her crush as he walked into the elevator.

Before she could fantasize about him more, her phone rang once again. She answered it immediately.

"Hi little darling." She waited a second. "I'm as free as a bird. Fire away."

Tatia sighed as she got comfortable in her chair. She wasn't leaving work for a while.

Damon finally arrived at his home in France, relieved that he had finally gotten away from his vile brother and ex-girlfriend. He honestly never wanted to see either of them again, and France was the place to go in order to do that.

Damon got out of the taxi that drove him to his large home, and sighed. "Alone again," he muttered to himself. "Of course."

With that, Damon picked up his small amount of luggage and carried it into his home. He knew his friend, Rose, would be here to check up on him soon enough. She kept watch on the house for him when he was gone which he greatly appreciated.

While he waited for her to show, Damon unpacked and got out his typewriter. Though computers were the new technology, he preferred his typewriter above them, and his typewriter was cheaper, anyway. He also liked the feel of his fingers typing on the keys as he watched his stories come to life.

It didn't take long for Rose to knock on his door. He hastily opened the door and greeted her in his deplorable French. "Uh…bonjour, Rose," he smiled at her.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Salvatore," she smirked back. "Welcome back. Where is your lady guest?" she inquired in choppy English.

Damon swallowed. He was supposed to have brought Katherine here for a nice Christmas together…well that had gone to shit, hadn't it?

"It's just me now," he told her grimly.

"Should I be sad?"

"I think you should at least act surprised," he gave her one of his grins, though it must have seemed transparent due to the fact that he wasn't happy at all.

"You stay 'til Christmas?" she questioned. Damon nodded.

"Good," she replied. "I found a cleaning lady for you," she informed him. "Elena." She turned and pointed to a young woman standing by her car.

Damon double took when he saw Elena. She was beautiful beyond belief, prettier than he ever thought Katherine to be. "Uh…bonjour, Elena," he said quietly. Why couldn't he speak better French? "Je suis…uhh…tres heureux de vous avoir ici…" Was he saying that right? He had meant to say I'm very happy to have you here…he hoped he wasn't butchering it.

Rose laughed. "She only speaks Portuguese," she told Damon. Well fuck, he thought to himself. If he couldn't speak French, he couldn't even begin to speak Portuguese.

He stuttered trying to come up with words to say to her. "Buongiorno? Eusebio, uhh…er, molto bueno…" That was definitely two different languages.

Rose laughed again. "She's ten years too young to remember a footballer called Eusebio. And that last part was Spanish."

Elena smiled amusedly at the man. He was handsome, and adorable when trying to talk to her, but she didn't speak anything other than Portuguese and therefore couldn't tell him that.

Damon gave up and stuck to English. "Oh. Well, Elena, it's nice to meet you and—"

Rose cut him off. "And you can drive her home after work every day."

Damon nodded. "Oh yeah. Sure. C-con grande…plesura?"

Rose smirked. "What are you speaking now? Turkish?"

Damon glared at his friend. How much more of an idiot could he look like in front of Elena? He glanced back at his new housekeeper. She had an amused expression. He wondered what she thought of him. She probably thinks you're a stupid bloke, he thought to himself. He hoped not. He really did want to get to know her better.

A week later, Rebekah came in to give Matt his daily tea and biscuits once again.

"Rebekah," he smiled at her. She always got a weird feeling in her stomach when he did that, like butterflies fluttering through her body. She loved it.

"Sir," she smiled back. She gently placed his tray on his desk.

"Thanks…um, I'm starting to feel…uncomfortable about us working in such close proximity every day and me knowing so little about you."

She cocked her head to the side questioningly. He was asking about her life? That was weird… "There's not much to know," she replied.

"How about…where you live?" he inquired.

"Wandsworth," she answered instinctually. "The dodgy end."

"The dodgy end?" he asked.

"Right at the end of the high street, Harris Street, near the Queen's Head," she told him. Why did he care where she lived?

He nodded in agreement. "Yeah that is dodgy…so do you live with your husband? Boyfriend? Some illegitimate but wonderful kids?"

She bit her lip. Was he flirting with her? She really hoped he was…she couldn't help but feel attracted to him. So what if he was older than her? He was smart, and sweet, and funny…oh god. He was the Prime Minister. She could not do this to herself.

Even though she knew it was wrong to lead him on, she told him, "I've just broken up with my boyfriend. I'm back with my parents."

"I'm sorry," he replied.

"It's ok," she responded. "I couldn't handle much more of him anyway…he kept telling me I was getting fat."

The look of shock on his face made her feel a little better about herself. "Seriously?" he asked.

Rebekah nodded. She hated dwelling on her ex. He was a piece of shit, really. "He told me no one would ever go for a girl with thighs the size of tree trunks. He wasn't really nice to me…" she trailed off. She hoped Matt could tell she was feeling uncomfortable.

Matt gave her a warm smile. "You know, I could just have him murdered. I am the Prime Minister."

Rebekah giggled. How horrible was that? "I'll think about it," she smiled at him.

"Please do," he replied. "The SAS are absolutely charming. Ruthless, trained killers are just a phone call away."

With a final giggle and smile, Rebekah left the room. Why did he have to be so perfect and unattainable?

Alaric was in his living room with Jeremy, trying to help the kid. First, he had to know more about this girl Jeremy was crushing on.

"We can do this," Alaric told Jeremy confidently, although he wasn't too sure on the inside. "It's someone at school, right?" he asked.

Jeremy nodded.

"Ok. And what does she, he, feel about you?" Alaric wanted to make sure he covered all boundaries. He honestly didn't care if Jeremy was gay, but he hoped it was a girl the young boy was crushing on, for then it would be easier to help him.

"She," Jeremy emphasized. Thank the Lord, Alaric thought. "She doesn't even know my name. And if she did know me, I think she'd hate me…she's the most popular girl at school. Everyone worships her because she's heaven."

Alaric smiled at Jeremy. He could tell that the boy was deeply troubled by his love life, and Alaric found Jeremy's maturity extremely surprising and amusing.

"So you're basically fucked, huh?" Alaric grinned.

Jeremy nodded, and Alaric pulled him into a hug. "We'll figure this out. One step at a time, ok?"

Jeremy nodded again, glad that he had Alaric to count on as a friend.