A/N: Well it's been close to three months since I last touched this story. The muse operates when she wants to, and so I've been pushing my brain to get this out. This update is dedicated to *starinthem*. Thank you to everyone who's stuck with this story for your patience. I can't promise when the next update will come. If the response is good I promise to get an update out within a month, if feedback is poor…well it might take a little longer. Just like ambrosia is food for the gods, reviews is food for my muse. She likes to eat. A lot. So without further ado, here is the latest. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: These characters (except my OC's) are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.
The White House—Washington, DC
Two weeks that's how long he's known the truth. Two weeks and that's how long she's kept the truth from him.
Damon Salvatore wouldn't say he was livid. No livid was too small a word to describe the range of emotions that coiled deep inside like a parasite living off the very living tissue and cells that he willingly gave to her of his own free will. In all honesty, he stopped belonging to himself the minute he freely gave his heart to Bonnie, unofficially giving her total control over him, his moods, his schedule, his time, his attention, his love, his power.
And this is what she does with it. Pretend it doesn't exist. Like she could give a shit. Lie to him. Continuously. Straightforwardly. Without blinking. With a smile on her face. Dancing around the issue as if this were a filibuster holding up new legislation from taking effect. Damon was a born politician, but Bonnie was a beast compared to him, never once bringing up the issue that practically burned through his retina whenever they saw one another either through telecommuting or in person.
No, livid was too small, didn't encompass a single shred of the feelings that clawed through him as each second, minute, hour passed twisting his mind into different scenarios in trying to figure out what exactly happened that night. Those thoughts manifested into nightmares and he'd wake up in a cold sweat with her name hanging on the tip of his tongue, mind racing, heart beating inhumanly fast with an uncontrollable urge to go to her. But he had a weakness. A deficiency. An imbalance with his own body that restrained and forbade him from making a single move to protect the woman who owned him.
Damon really didn't know what he was more upset about. The fact Bonnie hadn't come to him with what happened to her so he could fix it, or the fact he laid down everything he had to give to her and she had yet to return the gesture.
His patience was waning. Like a cornered viper. He was awaiting the perfect moment and opportunity to strike. She would feel his venom and Damon wasn't sure how it would affect their relationship. Either positively or negatively, and under much different circumstances that would've scared him but he was done living in fear about anything. He could have lost his life due to his own stupidity and impulsivity, but he was still here, given a second chance and he wasn't going to squander it tip-toeing around waiting for the other party to make up her mind.
And Damon knew that Klaus knew. Bonnie and Klaus were two peas in a pod, always conspiring, and having their secret talks when they thought no one was watching. But in this business someone was always watching and looking for a crack in the mortar. Yep, he was pissed off with his Chief of Staff but it paled to how fucking furious he was with Bonnie!
Nevertheless, there was nothing he could do. She was several hundred miles away in Texas celebrating her grandfather's eightieth birthday. A huge accomplishment. So he would give her this weekend to continue this ignorant charade, make her think he didn't know she had been attacked in her own home. Her life could have been taken from her, and she never once brought it up. Never once mentioned it. If she decided to go along the lines of utter bullshit and say she didn't tell him because she wanted to protect him he would…
Damon's hand tightened into a hard fist, his bones felt like they were only seconds away from bursting from his skin.
Didn't she know that she was his jewel? His treasure? His most valuable possession on the face of the earth? Didn't she know that he thought of her tirelessly and was pushing his body beyond its limits so he could be the man she loved and the president the American people voted for? But it seemed like he was doing all of this hard work with little results and dividends to show for it, and Damon was getting tired. Tired of living this way. Tired of pretending he was this great man who thought of these wonderful ideas to springboard the US back to the top of the super power chart. He was tired of pretending with Rosalie that whatever reasons they decided to marry were the same reasons they were still together. He was sick of watching her belly grow with a fetus he knew he didn't harvest. He just wanted out. Out of this office. Out of this position. Out of his own broken body. Out of denial that one day he could achieve it all and have Bonnie right there by his side.
The door to the Oval Office opened and Damon didn't even turn his eyes away from the window to acknowledge who it was.
"The dossier you requested, Mr. President," said a soft feminine voice of one of his aides.
"Thanks," Damon retorted dryly. A second or two passed and he realized, vaguely, that the aide hadn't left. Looking over his shoulder, Damon took in her bright brown eyes, her long chestnut hair parted clean down the middle, her olive skin. He frowned because he didn't recognize her. "Who are you?"
The aide tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, cheeks turning an interesting shade of pink. She momentarily dropped her eyes to her feet before looking at him again—shyly. "Elena…Gilbert. I'm here temporarily. Filling in for Scott McCall."
Damon nodded. Scott was one of the slackers from what Damon could remember, but he always showed up with results once given a task to do.
"Welcome aboard," the sullen President muttered before returning his gaze to the window.
"Can I just say how honored I am to be here working for you…for The White House, Sir," Elena almost fangirled and giggled.
"Un-hun," was Damon's lackluster reply.
Clearing her throat, Elena mustered on. "Do you need anything, Mr. President?"
Damon shook his head in the negative.
"Okay," she said and then quietly left the Oval Office.
That wasn't true. He did need something. Better yet someone. And she wasn't here.
Irving, Texas
The dry heat of late summer baked the earth until it was fried but it didn't seem to touch the seventeen acres of lush green grasses that was the Bennett Ranch. Horses and cows munched on the earth lazily fattening themselves until they tipped over to their sides, tails swatting flies away.
"Git in there…yeah yeah…git in there… yeah yeah"
"The Wobble" blasted from speakers as four generations of Bonnie's family crammed on a specially built dance floor swaying hips and rolling their arms in the air as they did their rendition of the latest dance craze. Though there were a million things on in Bonnie's mind, she only focused her attention on the fact that for the first time in weeks, she felt footloose and fancy free. She was with cousins, aunties, uncles, and the main attraction himself her grandfather Archibald Bennett. What more could she want?
Damon.
Bonnie held her smile in place even though she wanted to frown. She caught sight of her grandfather who was dancing with his great-grandchildren attempting to stay on beat.
Archibald Bennett was a proud man. A trait he passed down to his offspring to which his grandchildren inherited, and he wasn't a man who believed in standing around waiting for a handout. He was of the belief that if you wanted something to happen, you had to be the one to make it happen. The world didn't owe you any favors, not even a dime when you came fully equipped with everything you needed in order to succeed. It was a lesson that Bonnie held on to and practiced and she credited her grandfather with her level of success. She was good at hiding her insecurities, but like everyone else Bonnie was petrified of failure but she didn't let it hinder her.
The Wobble drew to a close and Bonnie took that as her opportunity to slip off the dance floor and get something to drink.
Her aunt Bernadine, who also happened to be Archibald Bennett's eldest sister, had outlined an entire itinerary of activities to last the entire weekend. Tonight was a formal dinner followed by a musical performance from one of her grandfather's favorite contemporary jazz bands. Tomorrow there was the boat ride, and Sunday everyone was expected to attend church service with brunch promptly served thereafter; and then one last hurrah before the attendees had to hop on planes and go to their separate corners of the earth.
Grabbing a flute of champagne off one of the many food tables stationed around the dance floor built under a gossamer white tent, Bonnie fanned her damp skin, and nearly guzzled half of the golden fluid.
She wasn't standing alone for long before her granddad approached, his almond complexioned skin showing not a single sign of his true age, and those dark brown sage eyes glowing with unbridled happiness. He had a crown of white hair cut low to his scalp and though he only stood at five-eight he carried a stocky build. In his formative years, Archibald had been an amateur boxer, and held a few titles before utilizing his finance and business degree to start a plethora of business in the greater Fort Worth, Texas area. He was now retired and living off the fruits of his labor.
"There's my favorite grandchild," he crooned when he stood next to Bonnie and planted a kiss on her blushing cheek.
"You're not supposed to have favorites, granddad."
"Are you correctin' me, little girl?"
Bonnie shook her head at her grandfather's attempt to chastise her. "No, sir. And as your favorite let's go inside and get you a beer," she winked.
Archibald returned her wink and conspiratorially looked around to make sure no one was watching them. His sister Bernadine was a certified life ruiner and killjoy simply because he had some health issues earlier this year. No alcohol, no sugar, no salt, no fat. He was supposed to eat, according to her, leaves, beans, and fish. Didn't no one in the state of Texas have time for that! Especially not during the summer.
Bonnie wrapped her arm around her grandfather's as they hustled back inside the air conditioned coolness of his estate. Walking through the long immaculate corridors, they reached the kitchen where there was a hive of activity taking place. Two chefs were commissioned to work relentlessly the entire weekend while a full staff prepared dishes for the formal dinner tonight.
Worming her way through the staff, Bonnie took out a beer, closed the fridge with her hip, and then motioned with her head for Archibald to follow her.
They were safely behind the closed door of his study moments later. Archibald slipped out of his jacket and loosened his tie as he took a seat behind his desk, and accepted the bottle of beer. Twisting off the cap he took a hearty swallow and sighed in relief.
"Bernie will snatch you bald and tan my hide if she finds out about this," Archibald belched and then offered up an apology. "Here's to getting' caught," he held up his bottle in salute.
Bonnie smiled and began to pace around the study. When she was growing up she would spend a month here every summer until she reached thirteen and began working as a youth volunteer for the mayor of Mystic Falls, Virginia, her hometown.
Archibald studied one of his many gifted grandchildren with a speculative eye. "Something is on that mind of yours, Bebe. What is it?"
Bonnie smirked at the nickname she had since birth. She took a seat in the brown leather chair that sat opposite Archibald's desk. "I told myself that I wasn't going to come here and talk business, but I kind of have to. You know I've been reinstated temporarily as Press Secretary, and everything has kind of calmed down. Before, I was over in Sweden working for one branch of the royal family as a crisis manager, and trying to build up my clientele. Well, now I feel its time I started my own firm…for real this time."
"I've been saying," Archibald began, "the best business to get into is the one you run. I also said that if you needed help with start up costs that I'm here to lend my checkbook and expertise. All you have to do is ask, Bebe."
"And I wanted to come to you with an actual business proposal."
Archibald waved a dismissive hand in the air. "I don't need some long-winded business proposal. You've proven you can handle just about anything. Plus you have a good head on your shoulders and know how to execute good judgment. Your work ethic speaks for itself."
Bonnie shifted a bit in her seat. Would her granddad still feel that way if she knew she was or had been sleeping with the President? Probably not. Her physical relationship with Damon was…well it was on pause. Emotionally they were still going at it like bunnies.
"Tell you what," Archibald took another greedy sip of beer before continuing, "I'll call Hal first thing in the morning to find out what we need to do to get this ball rolling."
Bonnie nodded. Hal Halpren was her grandfather's attorney, fraternity brother, and honorary member of their family since she was in diapers. "Thank you, granddad. I'm going to pay you back every single cent."
"No need to thank me just yet. I don't give two dollars to just anybody," he joked. Bonnie laughed. "And don't worry about paying me back. Just be successful. That's all I want in return. I know they're going to miss you at The White House, but all good things gotta come to an end at some point."
Bonnie made no comment and then groaned when she heard a brusque knock on the door punctually followed by the sound of her aunt's shrill voice.
"Archibald Bennett you better not be in there getting drunk!"
Rising from his seat and hiding what was left of his beer behind a couple books on the shelf, he turned sheepish eyes on Bonnie.
"Remember…we were just talking and nothing else," Archibald strode to the door and then pivoted to face Bonnie again. "You got a breath mint on you by any chance?"
::::::
Later that evening, Bonnie was on the phone with Jeremy Gilbert her security and Intelligence expert who had just finished installing cameras and a high tech security system in her new apartment. Remaining in her old one hadn't even been a question. There was no way she could go home at the end of the night, step into the foyer and not have a flashback of being rushed from behind, and literally fighting to save her life. Though the body had long since been bagged and taken away, to Bonnie it still laid there in her atrium.
Her assailant later identified as Ronald Earl Spillner was an ex-foremen from a textiles plant who had a criminal history that was a mile long. DC Police searched his apartment and discovered he had been stalking Bonnie for weeks. When questioned if she knew who he was, Bonnie had no answer because she didn't even know the man existed until he attacked her.
The investigation was still ongoing of course.
"Everything is all set and I'll show you how to operate it when you get back," Jeremy said.
"Good. I talked to my granddad and he's willing to loan me the start up money. I want to start scouting locations ASAP and then work on building our staff. Any suggestions?"
"Marcel du Pointe has been looking to get out of the entertainment industry. He's tired of being a high-powered version of Maury and fighting paternity suits for his clients."
"All right, I'll set up a meeting with him. I was thinking of bringing on Caroline Forbes and April Young."
"Caroline I can understand because the girl can sniff out dirt and controversy on anyone, but April Young? DC will eat her alive that is if she can survive the Metro during rush hour without getting trampled."
Bonnie laughed. "April might appear fragile but she's a good lawyer and fact finder. With you and me handling the accounting and business end of things, we might need one additional person."
"What about…Atticus Shane?"
Bonnie shivered. "No," she responded resolutely.
Atticus Shane a former professor at Harvard Law had a drug co-dependency problem, a couple of restraining orders against him, and he was just all around creepy. Though he had a photographic memory and could manipulate situations in his favor, Bonnie wanted integral people working for her. But, she would keep him in mind and maybe offer him freelance work if the need ever arose to obtain information on someone illegally without it being traced back to her.
"We'll keep brainstorming later," she mused.
"What about my sister?" Jeremy suggested.
"Elena…she just started working as an aide at The White House if I'm not mistaken."
"Yeah and she won't shut up about it, but she's only going to be there for six months. She graduates from GW in December. She'll need something permanent to start paying back that mountain of student loan debt."
"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. She might be offered a position at The House or maybe a constituent will bring her on. Anything can happen."
Jeremy sighed in resignation. "Oh, and just so you know there's been an unmarked sedan with government tags parked outside of your place for the last week or so. I pegged them as Secret Service."
Grumbling, Bonnie sat down on the edge of the bed. "Compliments of the Chief of Staff," she alleged though she knew that was a bold-faced lie. The SS worked directly under the President and did his bidding and no one else's. She of course knew that Jeremy knew that.
"I still say you should have moved to another apartment complex altogether, Bonnie. Moving into a different unit doesn't up your chances of protection."
"I understand that, but I like the building despite what happened to me. Right now I just need to focus on getting Bennett and Associates up and running. I can move later. It's late and I have a full day of activities tomorrow. I'll see you on Tuesday, Jeremy."
"Tuesday it is. Talk with you later."
"Good night," Bonnie hung up the phone and then tossed her BlackBerry aside. It buzzed a moment later with an email alert from Klaus. Reading it, she frowned. There had been an attack on an American Embassy in Greece. "Just perfect," she muttered. So much for getting some sleep.
Three Days Later—The White House
Her heart was in her throat. Bonnie had never been mortally afraid to be alone with Damon since she crash landed into his life while he was charming a crowd of potential sponsors for his campaign. What she wouldn't give to be able to go back to the time where Senator Damon Salvatore was nothing more than a job, another bulletin point on her resume. Now, here she was three years later entangled in a complicated and fucked up love triangle, and though she had prepared plenty of exit strategies she found herself inexplicably incapable of implementing a single one.
Tonight she was going to tender her informal resignation. The business loan paperwork Hal Halpren had drafted was officially being filed, and Bonnie was free to move on to the next step to finalizing her dream.
Her time as Press Secretary was only meant to be a brief stint not an actual reinstatement. As much as she loved her job and the people around her, Bonnie was ready to take all she had learned, form her own team of movers and shakes who would have impact on the world even if it came indirectly. Titans in suits—that was her new tagline and her new outlook on life. No matter what happened during this meeting with Damon, Bonnie would leave with her head held high and the last remains of her dignity. She loved him but at the same time she needed to step out of his shadow and become her own source of light.
Hand poised on the door, Bonnie sucked in a calming breath. She sensed Mrs. Palmers, Damon's executive assistant looking at her curiously. Running her tongue over her bottom lip, Bonnie knocked once and then opened the door.
Damon was seated behind his desk, head bowed over the dossier on his credenza. He didn't raise his head to look at her, and that made her frown. Damon had been expecting her and normally he couldn't wait to get his hands on her, but this was the first time Bonnie felt like she was intruding on him.
Nevertheless, she quietly shut the door, walked over the huge Presidential seal on the carpet and stood in front of his desk.
Damon motioned for her to come closer without lifting his head. Bonnie did as silently ordered and stood next to his wheelchair peering over the top of his head.
"You wanted to see me," Bonnie said unnecessarily.
"Have a seat."
She was prepared to walk back over to one of the double couches in the office when Damon's hand wrapped around her arm, tugged, and Bonnie fell kind of awkwardly on his lap. She adjusted her position until she was comfortable and foolishly she wondered if she might be causing him some kind of discomfort but immediately dismissed it. Damon used to tease her about feeling like air whenever he held her.
Resting his chin on her shoulder, Damon closed the open dossier he had been pretending to read, slid it out of the way and picked up another one.
"Read what's inside," he whispered in her ear.
Bonnie's spine stiffened because she didn't have a good feeling about the contents, but opened the folder and began reading an unofficial report from one of Damon's trusted Secret Service agents.
The more she read the more she felt sick. Her stomach was no longer in her body, but had jumped ship and ran out of the room where she desperately wanted to follow. There it was a detailed history of her movements from the time she boarded a flight from North Carolina to Reagan International, the incident she shoved to the dark corners of her mind. The attempted rape and possible murder.
It only took her two minutes to read the three page report, but Bonnie went over it again. She didn't know how long Damon had this in possession, how long he knew, and Klaus' words came back to her where he warned her that she had better tell Damon before he found out from another source.
Bonnie knew the crime had been reported on the news and her name had been left out, but Damon apparently put two and two together because during one of their trysts, she finally broke down and told him where she lived. Frequently he promised to visit, but it was simply too dangerous and ludicrous that Damon thought he could just waltz inside her apartment building—casually—like he was visiting an old friend. He lost those privileges of moving freely and without guard when he took the oath to defend the Constitution and all the other bullshit that came along with being president.
Bonnie's mouth chose now to be uncooperative as it took a while for her to remember language, and finally start speaking. "H-how long have you known?"
Damon wrapped both arms around Bonnie's waist and held her as tightly against his chest as he could. "Long enough. You know what this means, right?"
The fact he wasn't yelling. The fact that his voice had taken on the smooth and velvety timbre he often used when he was trying to get her in the mood, unnerved Bonnie more than anything. The calm before the storm. The lighting before the boom of thunder. The rattle of a tail before the strike. All signs that pointed to the fact she was in deep shit.
"What?" Bonnie asked.
"You're moving into Blair House."
Upon hearing that Bonnie tried to jump out of Damon's super tight embrace but she found herself unable to go anywhere. Damon held her so tightly Bonnie was feeling short of breath.
"Let me go," she demanded.
"Do you know the hell I've been living inside of my head for the last two weeks waiting for you to open your mouth and tell me the truth? And every single day where I asked you if you were okay, if there was anything you wanted to tell me, what was your response? 'Everything's fine, sir.' Why have you been lying to me?"
"I haven't been lying to you, Damon," Bonnie refuted his claim. "You have enough problems and I'm handling what happened to me."
"You seem to not understand something," Bonnie felt the switch in Damon's demeanor and it made chills run down her spine. "I will destroy anything that tries to take you away from me. And I will do it with a smile on my face and blood on my hands if I have to. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. If that means I handcuff you to my wheelchair so be it. You can't run from me, hide the truth from me. I live here," he pressed his right hand against her heart, "and I'm trying to make my way back here," his left hand slid up her skirt and cupped her through her panties. "Yet you are determined to shut me out and guess what? It. Won't. Fucking. Happen. There won't be a move you make that I won't know about."
Bonnie's heart was pounding and blood rushed every which way in her body. She was incensed by Damon's speech yet also inappropriately turned on by it. In this moment Bonnie felt like she was sitting on the lap of a lion that had been starved for months, and was about to feast on its first piece of bloodied meat.
"You make me sound like I'm your property, Damon and I'm not. You don't own me, and you don't get to dictate my every move. I'm not moving into Blair House. You are out of your ever loving mind if you think I am. Now take your hands off of me!"
He should do as she said, but that base part of him that spoke caveman denied her request. Damon grabbed Bonnie by the chin and forced her to look at him. "Do you want to be with me?"
Bonnie blinked in confusion. "What does that have to do with you invading my privacy?"
"Answer the question," he barked.
"No!" Bonnie screeched. Devastation quickly filled Damon's eyes and his jaw slackened. "No," she reiterated and shook her head, "my wanting to be with you doesn't give you the right to invade my life like I'm a terrorist, Damon. I'm not your wife, hell we're not even boyfriend and girlfriend. Things are…we have our bond but we need to start living in reality. You and I right now…can't work."
Gulping, Damon loosened his grip on Bonnie who wasted no time sliding off his lap. Smoothing down her skirt, Bonnie walked back to the opposite side of the desk, throat tightening, tears wanting to burst out of her ducts. Bonnie couldn't stand to see that pained look on Damon's face and knowing she put it there made her feel even more horrible. Her fingers twisted the ring—his ring—and she stared at it sadly wishing it was more than just a promise ring.
"As my employer, yes I should have told you about the incident, and I'm sorry I didn't. I wanted to, and I was going to in my own way," Bonnie mumbled softly. "But I knew in telling you, you would suggest something outlandish like you just did. I get it, Damon you love me and you want me safe. I understand and I feel the same way about you, but there has to be boundaries, limits…" pause. "I didn't want to do things this way."
"What are you saying?" Damon's hackles began to rise.
"You know I only came back temporarily."
"Bonnie, don't do this to me again. Please."
"It's time for me move on and start my business. I'm not leaving you, but I am leaving this House. It's time."
Damon wheeled around the desk and approached Bonnie. He took her hand, drew her out of range of the camera that hung overhead, and over to the window. He pressed a kiss to the hand he was holding.
"You don't have to go right now. We can…we can work something out. I still need you."
Running her fingers over his cheek, Bonnie leaned down while Damon tilted his chin up expectantly. Her lips closed over his briefly and then she pulled away.
"Amber wants her job back," Bonnie attempted to smile but it never reached her eyes. "I've hogged her boss long enough."
A tick hammered away at Damon's jaw and he was trying to rein in his emotions. He toyed with the ring he didn't put on her finger before bringing those sad blue eyes up to the woman who repeatedly broke his heart.
"You don't want me to protect you…you don't want to work with me…I can't even…stand up and…now you're leaving. Again. What the hell am I supposed to do?"
"Get better. Fight for this," Bonnie touched his leg. "Don't concern yourself with anything else because if it's meant to be, it'll be."
"I don't understand why you're doing this, Bonnie. Why you keep doing this."
"Damon," Bonnie sighed tiredly. "If you know anything about me then you should know that I don't settle. And that's what I've been doing. If I don't make a demand on anything then nothing will change. But at the same time I can't…I can't ask you to be selfish."
The President gritted his teeth and looked away. "Why isn't my love enough for you?"
"Why do you only want that to be enough for me?" Bonnie challenged and realized they could go back and forth like this all night and they'd still end up right back here. At a total and complete stalemate. "My decision to leave and start my business has nothing and everything to do with you. You have two more years left as President, but only a year to decide whether you're going to run for re-election."
"I told you I'm out."
"You say that now…"
"And my answer won't change," Damon nearly barked. "All right, fine, you want to leave and start your business then I won't stand in your way. You've earned it. But what about us? Are you going to wait for me?"
Bonnie stared down at her feet. "I said that I would."
"But you're only willing to do it for so long. Give me until after Rosalie's child is born. I'll have a paternity test done, prove I'm not the father, and then she can't fight me on the divorce. Just four months, Bonnie."
Nibbling on a corner of her lip, Bonnie didn't want to give in. She had goals in mind. Damon said four months, but what if he asked for an extension, then another extension, and before either of them knew it an entire year or more could pass. Bonnie loved Damon more than anything, however, that meant she couldn't postpone her own life or happiness for him. The downside though, she did want to give him time to get his affairs in order.
Four months, and if they were still in this exact same position, she'd think about it when they got there.
"Okay. Four months and that's it," she agreed.
In four months Damon realized he needed to make a miracle happen. He didn't want to think about how he would act if Bonnie walked out of his life for good if fate decided to be cruel and somehow make him out to be the father of Rosalie's child. The president had spent more than enough time being drunk and having sex while drunk. He remembered all of his sexcapades while inebriated, but he didn't remember touching Rosalie like she claimed he did. She was lying and he would prove it one way or the other.
He wanted to hold Bonnie, but realized she had spent enough time alone with him in the Oval and that she needed to go to avoid any suspicion. He felt uneasy about her returning to her apartment building when he learned she had refused to move out altogether and simply relocated to another unit. So he had two SS tail her and keep watch over her.
Lately, Damon had been questioning his sanity when it came to Bonnie. He behaved irrationally and said things no man with any sense of pride would ever say out loud. But he loved her—nearly obsessively—and if he told Bonnie the true depth of his feelings he would only scare her off and that was the last thing he wanted to do.
He stared up at her, and tugged her hand until she stood between his legs. "Kiss me and make it good."
Bonnie smirked and then sealed her mouth over his, giving him tongue, alternating biting on his top and bottom lip.
Damon didn't know what it was. Their heated debate, their pissing contest, Bonnie's defiance, his desperation not to lose her, but he felt a twitch, a tingling in his limbs. It was faint but he immediately felt it. The sensation was something akin to the tingling that happened when blood circulation had been reduced or cut off to a limb and then resumed its normal flow. Blood was moving through his body, carrying oxygen, awakening the parts of him that had been in a coma since his accident.
He abruptly pulled away and stared at his legs in befuddlement.
"What's wrong?" Bonnie queried.
"I felt something."
"What?"
Damon shook his head and touched his thigh, gripped it with his hand. He didn't feel anything. He attempted to wiggle his toes in his shoes. Nothing happened. Getting vexed, Damon trailed a hand over his crotch and…
There had been something just not anything concrete.
Bonnie watched as Damon fondled himself right in front of her. "Damon, what are you doing?"
"Kiss me again."
"Ah," Bonnie's eyes flew to the door. Her visit had already surpassed the time she should have remained alone with Damon. Quickly she covered her mouth over his.
Come on, dick jump, twitch, get high, Damon groused. Unfortunately there was no corresponding sensation of any kind. However, that didn't mean he was going to release Bonnie's lips anytime soon.
This would be his last time doing this since she was determined to leave him in the dust to follow her own dreams. During their long talks, Bonnie had shared with him that after her stint in The White House she wanted to open her own crisis management firm. If Klaus had never brought her on to run his campaign, Bonnie would have quit working at her law firm in Richmond, and opened up her own. She was smart, savvy, and ambitious enough to do it and succeed. Damon was proud of her but also pissed off simply because she was leaving.
He would get his legs working again. He would get out of his marriage. He'd get out of the White House, and he would start his real life. With Bonnie. Anything less than that was unacceptable.
Northwest DC
Sipping green iced tea and scrolling through her BlackBerry, Bonnie sat outside of a trendy bistro across from the Verizon Center. Foot traffic strolled by, while horns blared, and tourists stopped to take pictures of historical buildings and landmarks.
The wind that occasionally blew didn't offer up any relief from the humidity, but a dry wind was better than no wind at all.
"So you want to open up your own crisis management firm."
Bonnie's leaf green eyes snapped up the woman standing by her table, Hermes bag draped on her bent arm, dressed in head to toe Valentino. She smiled.
"That's the word on the street," Bonnie replied. "And that's why I need the best of the best to guide me…Olivia. Please join me, Ms. Pope."
Chapter end.
A/N: Bonnie and Olivia Pope joining forces. Now, how do these two powerful women know each other? Hmm. And Damon getting or experiencing possible feeling in his legs. Was it just a fluke or the beginning of a miracle? There are a lot of questions to be answered and pieces of the puzzle to fit. If you want more in an expedient manner, well you know what you have to do. Thank you guys for reading. Until next time, love you.