A/N: Well, it only took a little over a month for an update. That's improvement, right? Anyways, thank you so very much for the sheer number of reviews that chapter 11 generated! I was really blown away and see that some of you were blown away with Damon's plan to keep Bonnie around. Let the plotting begin.

Summary: The party at the Marquises is still going pretty strong, and someone tries to take the opportunity to align the pieces on their chess board.

Rating: MA

Disclaimer: Bamon belongs to LJ Smith/CW Network. Zero belongs to the creators of VH1's Hit the Floor. Original characters belong to moi. Copyright infringement is never intended.


Under this gilded roof stood a collection of the wicked and the divine. A comingling of sorts that bred those who toed the line of doing wrong for the right reasons, and loading themselves up on pharmaceutical consumption in order to sleep well at night.

He prowled among the horde leisurely sipping the champagne casing the joint for any prospects he might be able to take home with him to bang away the frustration of a road loss that did little to help his stats. If he wanted a championship ring he needed to be surrounded by those who had the same hunger and drive. His teammates were floundering in their own self-made drama that graced the pages of endless gossip rags from here to New York. He didn't walk away from a three-time championship team to lead a bunch of crybaby losers.

Zero dumped his empty flute on a passing server's tray and quickly copped another. He strolled pass a group of money hungry socialites who eyed him without shame or decorum. He smiled, held up his glass in salute but kept walking. They were old and used and didn't have the right connections for he was all about aligning himself with those who held power.

He stood in the center of the swanky ballroom of the Marquises absorbing everything around him with indifference. Zero had not known excess his entire life, but after singing a lucrative deal his rookie year he soon became accustomed to it. Dinners that cost upwards of twenty thousand dollars or more, a fleet of cars one more flashy and expensive than the next, lavish trips around the world during the off season, Zero burned through dinero like his life depended on it. Being a millionaire at the age of twenty did things to a man's ego, coupled with a bevy of women who stopped at nothing to get his attention, every day was like a New Year's Eve celebration.

But now Zero was looking to settle. Add more substance to his resume. He had a business plan and had given himself a six-month window to achieve. All he needed were naïve investors and the perfect cover.

Out of the corner of his eye, Zero spotted the individual he had been hoping to run into ever since her night of dirty dancing at The Playground. Licking his lips, Zero covertly scoped the ballroom wondering if her shadow was present tonight. His hand tightened on the flute when he found Damon Salvatore talking to some aged guy who didn't look much different from Alfred Hitchcock.

Turning his attention back to Missus Salvatore, Zero tracked her until Bonnie disappeared from sight, possibly on the way to use the restroom. With her husband distracted he decided to make his move.

The tapping of her heels was his beacon leading Zero right to Bonnie as she stumbled in the threshold of a second floor bathroom. In the small glance he caught before she hastily slammed the door closed, he saw a member of the City of Calabasas Council banging a woman half his age who was busy snorting a line of coke.

Bonnie whipped around, eyes cast down, cheeks a bit redden by catching such a prestigious figurehead in a compromising position any journalist would have sold their first child to uncover. Some vague part of Zero that saw the good in humanity wanted to smile at her innocence, but instead he shrugged on his usual coat of refined seductiveness and addressed the flustered woman.

"Are you okay?"

Bonnie's head snapped up. Her mouth moved yet no words escaped. She didn't stare at him with one shred of recognition, which Zero could admit did sting. His face, arms, and abs only decorated half the fucking billboards around Hollywood for crying out loud.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just trying to find an empty bathroom. Excuse me."

"I can escort you to one. I've been to this place must be…half a dozen times," Zero slid his hand in his trouser pocket and focused his hazel eyes on her.

"That's okay," Bonnie flashed an uncomfortable smile. "I need to get back to my husband."

She made an attempt to brush past him but Zero slid into the way. Bonnie jerked to keep from crashing into his chest. When she craned her neck to glare, Zero smiled charmingly at her.

"Is there a problem?" Bonnie asked with unmitigated steel in her tone.

Inwardly Zero grinned. He knew someone who looked as mouth-watering as she did couldn't be all soft edges and docility. He'd seen the way she moved her body as if she were writhing off the shackles of domestic oppression; twirled her hips as if she were crooking her finger daring any man to touch and not get burned. Had watched the enticing way she bit into her bottom lip as if she was were stifling a moan or scream.

If things had gone anywhere near according to plan he would have discovered if she could indeed hit high notes.

Damon Salvatore, her beloved husband had blacklisted him from becoming a member of his board because of a "small matter" that had taken place five years ago that Zero narrowly escaped facing jail time. His felony charge had been reduced to a misdemeanor, which meant he was free and clear to join any board of directors at any company he liked. Only, Damon Salvatore didn't see it that way.

That was just one strike against the mogul. The main one was the most egregious to the basketball star.

Now the pieces on the chess board Zero had painstakingly collected where being lined up in position. All he needed was a queen.

"I don't mean to hold you up," Zero said. "It's just…I remember you from a couple of nights ago at The Playground. Wanted to buy you a drink but you turned me down cold."

Oh, right, Bonnie now remembered. She was standing in front of the point guard for the LA Devils. Her uneasiness with…whatever his name was that night was the same as it was now. There was something dishonest about his face no matter how disarming he tried to appear to be. Yet being brought up to be polite, Bonnie offered Zero another smile, this one more wane than the previous one.

"Sorry about that," Bonnie switched her weight on her feet.

"It's not a problem. The drinks here are free, but if you're looking for a refill I can certainly pull some strings, get you one," he flirted.

"How nice of you, but I'm sure I can manage that on my own. Excuse me."

Again, Bonnie tried to step around Zero but he got in the way, blocking her.

"This isn't a basketball court," she spat curtly. "I'm trying to be nice and not tell you to get the hell out of the way."

Zero flashed his teeth. "Can I at least get the name of the stunning woman who's intent on dismissing me?"

Angling her head to the left, Bonnie sighed, "Bonnie Salvatore."

It sounded so odd to her to use her martial name, which was something she took pains not to do unless she had to. And in this situation, Bonnie knew she had to.

Zero held out his hand. Bonnie looked at it for only a second before shaking it. Of course the point guard refused to let it go.

"Zero," he introduced himself and brought her trapped hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. "Now about that drink…"

"What's going on here?"

The crack of a baritone voice shattered Zero's perceived progress. Gritting his teeth at the interruption he dropped Bonnie's hand, but didn't move away from her. He looked over his shoulder and affixed his eyes on the man he had come to despise.

Damon's austere gaze narrowed on the man standing too damn close to his wife. He recognized him immediately, and didn't let it slow down or hinder his gait as he approached the twosome.

"Babe I'm tired and I'm ready to go home," Damon directed at Bonnie who stepped around a distracted Zero.

Bonnie tucked herself dutifully next to Damon's side, and watched the two men engage in a cell incinerating showdown. Nostrils flaring, color steadily rising up their necks. The marker of acrimonious history was obvious and drew Bonnie's curiosity. However, she was ready to leave, ready to put traction between her and the bathroom of illicit affairs and pissing contests.

"Well if it isn't Damon Salvatore. Nice to see you again," Zero lied straight through his cosmetically enhanced teeth. He stretched out a hand that Damon grudgingly shook.

Damon didn't return the sentiment, merely dipped his head and kissed Bonnie on the temple, "Let's go," he whispered loud enough for Zero to hear.

Zero canted over to Bonnie, "It was real good seeing you again."

Bonnie nodded and ignored the way Damon stiffened next to her. "Enjoy the rest of your night."

Damon, taking possession of Bonnie's hand quickly drew her away. Zero remained where he was wondering if one or both of them would look back at him with some hint of a warning to stay away. Neither did.


The Maybach was barely out of the driveway before Damon lit into her. "What did he mean by 'It was real good seeing you again'? You've met him before? When?"

Bonnie removed her earrings since they were heavy and bothersome. She dropped them in her clutch. "At The Playground. My cousin Jelena invited me to come out after the game. This happened while you were in Tokyo."

"Oh, so you thought it was perfectly all right for you to go to some club while I'm out of town and not tell me?"

Typically Bonnie would defer to silence whenever the unmistakable shrill of offense made the octave of Damon's voice go higher. Tonight, however, she wasn't having it.

She swiveled to scowl at him. "Just like you thought it was perfectly okay to go out for a little dinner and dancing with your ex-fiancée in another country! Don't try to make it seem like I did something wrong just by having the gall to go out and have fun with my cousin. Innocent fun. Nothing happened, all right?"

Sitting back in her seat and seething, Bonnie crossed her legs and impatiently shook her foot.

Damon took a deep breath. All right jumping down her throat trying to accuse her of diddling around with basketball players in his absence is not the way to earn her trust, he decided. So he softened his tone.

"Bonnie, I just don't like the idea of my wife being in that type of environment when I'm not around."

"I wasn't alone, Damon. Jelena was with me and you know her. She practically owns The Playground and the stadium. Trust me, people kept their distance."

"Still…that guy…he made it seem like you two…"

"Of course he would," Bonnie faced her husband, "Of course he would try to make it seem like something happened between us as a way to goad you. I sensed tension between the two of you, and he took the golden opportunity to insinuate that he and I are acquainted when we both know that's further from the truth. But I did run into someone while you were gone."

Damon didn't trust that crooked smile on his wife's face. It could mean a myriad of things and not one of those things could be something good.

Yet he asked, "Who?"

"Your former stepmother."

Damon blanked his features and maintained a steady tone of voice. His blood pressure on the other hand, climbed. "Really?"

Nodding slowly, Bonnie sank back into the suede and leather seat. "That woman must think she's Jocasta and you," she gripped his jaw, "my dear husband, you're Oedipus Rex."

He couldn't help himself, he laughed. "How did you come to that observation?"

Bonnie released his jaw. "As you so love to remind me you didn't marry me for my brain. I do possess one and even use it from time to time."

The spreading warmth of congeniality flat-lined in Damon at the mention of the put down he occasionally said to Bonnie during their marriage.

Klaus' insight into the complicated mess of Elise El-Khouri's thirst for Damon, and her husband's unwillingness to discuss Elise when questioned about her after the opening of the multicultural center helped cement some of the missing pieces of the puzzle together. Wasn't much of a leap to reach a conjecture.

Bonnie continued, "I've taken courses on how to read body language, and decipher subtext in both written and oral words. I'm a lot more observant than you've ever given me credit for, and I can easily spot when a woman is trying to hold on to the perceived trappings that come with a forbidden hook up. I'm just hoping you waited until your father was in his grave before fucking his wife."

She shifted away from him, eyes now devoted to looking out the window, the proverbial mike drop. Damon had been cut down and dismissed.

He could easily lie and call Bonnie delusional for thinking he'd ever bed his stepmother, but what would be the point? He slept with Elise way before he and Bonnie ever met, and though their one night together took some of the edge off that was as far as things went. Damon couldn't speak for Elise or her expectations; he just made sure not to stick around long enough for her to misconstrue things.

"If there was some truth to your observation," Damon ran the back of his fingers down Bonnie's arm, "how does that make you feel about me?"

"Do you want me to say I'm disappointed that your dick doesn't have a conscience?"

Damon's lips twitched. "More or less?"

Bonnie studied the hand caressing her arm. "Hardly anything you do surprises me, Damon. I'm just tired of skeletons from your closet being shoved into my face."

To Damon that was as close to saying she was jealous. The asshole in him delighted in that.

"Because you care about how that reflects on you or because of your feelings toward me?" he pressed. Bonnie was good at not directly answering questions. He was, too, but hated whenever someone used that tactic on him. "I care for you, Bonnie."

"Since when?"

The stroking of her arm stopped and Damon's eyes glinted sharply. "Since when?" he bit out softly.

Bonnie blinked owlishly, leaned closer, reiterated, "Since when?"

Cinching the gap between them, his mouth hovering less than an inch away from hers, "I can show you better than I can tell you."

"Is that your solution to everything? That our problems can be swept aside with one good, hard fuck?" she asked caustically. "All this time and you still don't know me."

Damon sighed heavily. "You're right," he concurred. "I don't know you like I should at this point, but I do know you, Bonnie. I'm up for learning more. What about you?"

"I know all I need to know about you, Damon."

"Is that so?"

"It is."

"I don't think so. You can pretend all you like that I don't possess the qualities you want in a man. But do you honestly think you'll ever encounter someone who'll make you feel the way I make you feel?"

Bonnie curled her lips into a smile that was the work of pure fiction. She would let Damon think that whatever feelings he inspired in her couldn't be duplicated if she were to conveniently meet someone else. She may have been vanilla when they met, but that didn't make her ignorant. College was slated to be a time of experimentation, and Bonnie may have dabbled discreetly and occasionally. Therefore, she was no stranger to feelings of butterflies flitting in her stomach, weak knees, and lightheadedness that came upon someone when they were in the presence of an individual they found exceptionally attractive on all cylinders.

"Something inside of you, Bonnie is whispering that the way you feel when you're around me you won't ever feel with anyone else."

"Is that so?" For the first time in a while she agreed with her husband's assessment, but not in the way he might imagine.

Damon nodded his head. He wanted to grill her, pry her jaw open and make her confess to her feelings that had nothing to do with going through the motions, or keeping up appearances to beat back the dogs of speculation that their marriage wasn't a happy one. It was real in every way that counted, in Damon's opinion. He wanted to know what resided in her heart.

Well, I'll be damned, Damon thought as soon as that realization fired in his brain. He wanted to know her heart.

They finally made it home.

Damon assisted her out of the car and in a shocking twist, thanked their driver and left the woman a hefty tip. That gave Bonnie considerable pause. Not to say Damon's sense of entitlement left him blind to those who gave up their time to make sure he was always on top of his game. It was an infrequent occurrence—his generosity.

Nevertheless, they entered their estate going their separate ways. Bonnie up to the master suite and Damon to his office to look over some paperwork. He glanced up and admired the way Bonnie's perfect ass rose and fell with each step she climbed, and felt the familiar stirring of lust lengthen his cock. Groaning lowly, Damon shook off the scintillating graphic of bending his wife over the railing and slamming into her from the back. He adjusted himself and kept it moving.

Once in his office, Damon braced his back against the closed door. Knowing Bonnie's heart versus keeping her by any means necessary. Those were his choices. He thought of his strategy to entrap Bonnie in pregnancy. If he were noble he would at least engage her in conversation to see where she was mentally on the subject of starting a family. Yet Damon was unsure if he could handle her possible rejection or downright refusal to bear his children.

In the eighteen months they had been married the subject of children never arose between them. Of course they encountered those who felt it was their duty to ask when Bonnie would start waddling around showing off a cute baby bump in designer maternity clothes. Bonnie would only smile leaving Damon in front of the jury to testify they were simply enjoying being newlyweds with no immediate plans to change the number of their household.

Rubbing his index finger back and forth across his bottom lip, Damon decided. He could learn her heart later. He needed to act now.

Rounding his desk, he took a seat and started doing a search to find out if it were still remotely possible for Bonnie to get pregnant even while on birth control. Nothing was ever a hundred percent foolproof, right?


Bonnie's fingers were flying over the keypad of her smartphone. Micah Danbury had contacted her earlier in the evening saying success at last, he managed to break through the firewalls protecting the SIM card, but unfortunately the information contained within would take a cipher to decrypt.

Sighing in aggravation that it was one roadblock after another, Bonnie inquired how long it would take for that to happen. Micah replied back possibly a month or two because the guy he knew who could create an algorithm to decrypt the info was currently out of the country. Micah's final query was if Bonnie wanted to proceed. However he cautioned that whatever information was on this card could be proprietary or military, and if they were caught, charged, and tried, could face hefty sentences.

"Just perfect," Bonnie muttered and told Micah to give her a day or two to decide.

Was getting a divorce worth the trouble of possibly losing her freedom to the federal penitentiary system? Bonnie certainly didn't think so.

She typed one more question. Could he trace back the origins of the SIM card?

Micah's final text confirmed her suspicion. It did belong to Damon's company. Specifically the one in Mumbai.

Chills swept through Bonnie. Mumbai. Where her life changed drastically.

Thanking Micah for his services, Bonnie deleted their string of text messages in the off chance her husband decided to snoop. Her mind wandered to and fro on how Llewellyn managed to get that SIM card in the first place, and what his plans had been for it. To extort money or a better position with her husband's company? It seemed rather obvious unless her brother was working on the behest of someone else to collect damning information to expose Damon for possible fraudulent activities.

She didn't want to think about any of it. Corporate espionage was something actors played at in Hollywood. How fitting she resided in the place where those kinds of action-packed screenplays were brought to life on the big screen. Whatever her brother had been up to it was nothing good or legal. And being gifted with intelligence Bonnie knew she couldn't tread along this path any longer.

She slammed her phone on the marble counter.

Her disappointment was fleetingly mild much to her surprise. But Bonnie went into this knowing it would be a stretch from the get-go. She would just have to find another way.

Fingering her loose curls, Bonnie eyed her reflection. Her discarded dress was a pool of fabric at her feet. That lacy contraption had been too fucking tight, but her ass looked good in it and made up for the lack of oxygen intake. She just reached behind her to take off her strapless bra when the opening cords of a song began playing from the hidden speakers in the bathroom.

Bonnie arched an eyebrow and her gaze caught on the figure materializing from the shadows of her bedroom that now stood in the threshold.

Damon's eyes were on the exposed globes of her ass in her G-string. "Are you about to take a shower?"

"No."

"Good."

Turning to face him, Bonnie read Damon plainly enough. Heady tension sprung between them like saplings bursting from soil. Her words to him in the car echoed in her mind, but shit she was horny. He provided the mood; she provided the invitation by slipping her manicured fingers between the elastic straps of her G-string and inching it down.

Bonnie unclasped her bra and then lifted her body on the sink counter, waited. Damon quickly dropped his pants, ripped off his shirt, and peeled off his socks. He left his briefs on and crossed over the warmed tile flooring where he proceeded to wedge himself between Bonnie's thighs.

He said nothing but allowed his hands and tongue to be his emissary as he cupped his wife's breast and flicked her nipple until it was hard as stone. Damon bent his head and took that sensitive pebble into his mouth, first sucking then biting gently, wiping the sting away with the swirl of his tongue.

Bonnie couldn't fight it. Having her tits sucked was her favorite form of foreplay, and Damon knew it. She grew wetter and wetter as he alternated between her breasts, moaning and murmuring how good she tasted.

Her little fingers tunneled into his soft strands of inky black hair, tugging his face deeper into her cleavage. Bonnie ravaged her bottom lip desperate not to cry out his name, but succumbed when he gripped a fatty globe and continuously ran his blunt teeth over the nipple.

She had come from breast play before and Damon seemed determined to make her lose it. Bonnie was right there walking that fine line between release and submission, but gasped when Damon abruptly stopped, an evil grin on his face.

As warranted by his calculated actions, Bonnie glared while panting and tried to force herself back into composure. It was slipping. The pleasure generated from his tongue made her clit throb impatiently. But like she said, Bonnie knew how to read her husband, and arrived at the fact he wanted her mouth on him. That's why he kept his briefs on. Damon wanted Bonnie to manually extradite his manhood. Wanted to feel her touch and grip on his meat and manipulate him until he was close to spilling his speed, but naturally denying him the opportunity.

Sliding down from the counter, Bonnie dropped to her knees once Damon took a few steps backwards to accommodate her. She eyed the bulge tinting the cotton fabric of his briefs, and instead of going in for the kill she ran the flat of her hand over his erection.

Damon groaned compulsively.

Bonnie carefully removed the part of Damon she could honestly say she loved. His rigidity bounced against his stomach once completely free of its confines. Veins protruded from that column of sepia flesh, and bottlenecked to its perfectly circumcised head tinted a deep pink.

Grabbing him with more pressure than she intended, Bonnie flicked the tip of his dick with her tongue before shrouding her mouth over the entire bulbous head.

"Shit," Damon cursed. His head fell back and he easily gave himself up, gave up control to Bonnie who worked him over.

His dick wasn't candy flavored but Bonnie sure did suck him off as if he were a sugary confection. She stared up at Damon reveling in the fact this was possibly one of the few times she could bring him to her total mercy. Bonnie watched as his abs contracted, chest rose and fell, doubled up her efforts whenever Damon licked his lips, and squeezed his eyes shut as if the pleasure was too much to handle.

"Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop," Damon whispered pleadingly. He didn't care how weak he sounded. Bonnie and her blowjobs had come a long way from the first time she gave him head. Too much teeth and spit. A very painful experience.

Now her tongue caressed him, her hand stroked him in time—expertly.

"Don't stop…"

Once that particular mantra began Bonnie knew it was time to stop. She eased up on her enthusiasm, bearing downward before reversing and slowly gliding her mouth back up his hardened flesh.

Damon's eyes crossed and his toes flexed. He looked down at his wife and forgot how to breathe. The view of seeing Bonnie on her knees with his pole lodged in her mouth, eyes on him was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. Bonnie winked and just like that he almost came.

He laughed shakily and gently nudged her away and pulled Bonnie to her feet. Damon slanted his mouth over hers, picked her up and carried her to their bed.

Damon's kisses were like liquid peer pressure, could talk her into most anything. He spooned her from the back leaving him free to stimulate her breasts, strum her clit, and bury his fingers in her hot sheath.

"Hmmm…please…" Bonnie whimpered and dug her bottom deeper into his crotch. She couldn't wait any longer.

Sensually rotating his hips behind her, Damon was more than ready to end both of their suffering. Lifting Bonnie's left leg just high enough for him to maneuver, Damon entered her slick folds inch by hard inch.

The fit was snug and gooey driving him to the brink and he was only a few strokes along. Damon nibbled Bonnie's graceful neck, her ear, sloppily kissed her cheek as he thrust into her provocatively. She wasn't idle, either. Bonnie arched her back and pushed her rump into him, grinding for all she was worth; lost to the endless sensations spiraling through her.

She felt too good. And going nearly two weeks without her Damon wasn't sure how much longer he might last. He had stamina when necessary, but there were times where the excitement was uncontainable that he embarrassingly came in under five minutes.

Being way too focused on not coming Damon forgot to think about censorship. "Have my baby," he grunted in Bonnie's ear, as he plowed deeper.

She jerked out of the moment and twisted her head to stare at Damon over her shoulder. "What?"

Damon was back in his head again, still plunging deep inside of his favorite place on earth. "Gotdamn Bonnie you feel so good."

The compliment was nice and ego boosting but did little to erase what Bonnie was sure she had heard. Have his baby? She couldn't deny a small tingle of something rushed through her; augmented by the very act they were doing which, under the right circumstances, led to conception. But there was no way in hell she'd actually have his kid, bring a child into their dysfunctional life.

His pumps became frantic a sure sign that he was chasing that white rabbit.

"No, Damon slow down."

He grunted, cursed, pumped furiously into her and then…stiffened. "Shit," he squeaked.

"No!" Bonnie groaned.

Hot spurts of his cum shot inside her womb and Damon couldn't stop or take back the torrent. He convulsed, felt himself depleting rapidly, and when he was positive he was empty, slid out of Bonnie.

Damon fell back against the mattress, winded, and a bit mortified. He turned to look at Bonnie who stared up at the ceiling clearly vexed because she had been denied the chance to follow him into nirvana.

"Was it good for you?" she asked rhetorically.

Rolling over, Damon attempted to make up for his folly with kisses, but Bonnie gave him her cheek instead, grabbed him by the back of the neck and pushed him down.

"Finish me off."

Grinning, Damon happily nestled his head between his wife's splayed thighs, and devoured her just the way she liked.


Night predators had an evolutionary edge over those who wandered accidentally into their territory, making minced meat of the ignorant. Materialistic carnivores devoured whatever wasn't bolted down chasing the next trend like a religious zealot getting rid of heretics and the ritualistic unclean. Bonnie Bennett knew her survival depended on how she rolled the dice, played her cards, and how many chips she added to the pot.

She was up before dawn sitting in front of the Mac happily clicking away as she updated her resume and cover letter sending it out to several companies and employment agencies. She sweet talked previous instructors and tenured professors through electronic mail; dialed up coaches and the lone supervisor of the boys and girl club where she worked for three summers straight coaxing them to put in a good word should they be called for a reference.

By noon she was exhausted and hungry. Padding to the kitchen Bonnie was only mildly surprised the chef had the foresight to prepare a brunch buffet. She had a seat at the massive granite top center island and gorged herself on flapjacks, turkey bacon, and a veggie omelet washing it down with a mimosa. She gazed distractedly out of the bay window taking in the sight of the backyard. It was at that time their maid, Lourdes entered who briefly smiled and carried on with her duties as if Bonnie were a piece of furniture herself.

"Good afternoon, Lourdes," Bonnie greeted the woman.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Salvatore. I trust you had a good evening."

Bonnie shrugged. Her evening had been spent doing things she would only disclose to a rowdy group of horny girlfriends wanting to live vicariously through her exploits. Not the type of conversation one would engage in with those who kept her house in tip-top shape. Lourdes began washing the dishes the chef left for her and Bonnie wondered what the woman thought of her marriage, her as a person.

It didn't matter, Bonnie finalized, sipped her coffee and brought her empty dishes over to Lourdes always feeling guilty for making a mess she was more than capable of cleaning up.

"Thank you, Lourdes," Bonnie offered the petite woman a smile.

Lourdes returned it keeping her eyes downcast the whole while. A learned behavior for sure. "I will keep a plate warm for Mr. Salvatore."

At that Bonnie blinked. She didn't want to ask Lourdes to reiterate her sentiment and shouldn't she know her husband was still home? But she did want the woman to confirm what she just said. Typically Damon didn't leave the house without telling and kissing her goodbye, making her walk him to the door like this was the gotdamn fifties. However, there were a handful of mornings where he was gone from their bed and home before she cracked open her eyes. Those mornings were extremely rare, even rarer where she was the one missing in action. The snoop in Damon would want to know her twenty before leaving to make his employees lives miserable.

Bonnie climbed out of her head to see Lourdes steadily washing dishes, but her shoulders were tense probably trying to figure out why she was hovering. She backed away.

"I'll let Damon know."

Leaving the kitchen, Bonnie tightened the sash of her robe and climbed the stairs and swept into her bedroom.

The shades still covered the large floor to ceiling windows, the bed itself unmade and very much occupied. Damon was sleeping on his stomach, arms wrapped around his pillow, mouth wide open.

For a harrowing moment Bonnie thought he might be dead, but she nixed that train of thought as she witnessed the up and down movement of his shoulders. Drawing closer to the bed, Bonnie peered down at her unconscious husband and…smirked.

His sepia skin…there were red welts crisscrossing here and there around his shoulders. One angry line ran parallel down the length of his spine. Bonnie extended her hand in front of her, nails free of blood or skin but her little knives had gone to town on Damon's back.

She flushed. Last night she had been rapacious. A pot under a flowing faucet that ran over and flooded everything in the immediate area. She couldn't get enough. The strange thing—Bonnie couldn't even explain why. Shrugging, she strolled into the bathroom to prepare for the day.

Her cell began buzzing where she left it on the sink the night before. Dashing to grab it before it woke Damon up, Bonnie clicked it on and peeped into their bedroom. He mumbled something unintelligibly before turning his head away.

"Hello?" Bonnie said and closed the door.

"Am I speaking with Bonnie Salvatore?"

"Yes," Bonnie's brow puckered. She didn't recognize the voice of the caller. "Who's this?"

"Elise, dear, Elise El-Khouri we met the other day in Malibu at the country club."

Damon's stepmother? What the hell? Bonnie thought. "How did you get my number? It's not listed."

"I have my ways, dear. I'm sorry to interrupt your afternoon but I was wondering if you were free tonight to get together for drinks. I'm hosting a small cocktail party for women who are business-minded. Kind of a networking opportunity and I thought of you. It would do me a great honor if you would come."

"I'm sorry but I'm busy tonight."

There was a slight hesitation before Elise's slightly accentuated voice came on the line. "That's disappointing, but understandable since my invitation is last minute. Well, maybe one day next week we can meet for lunch? Just the two of us? I really would like the chance to get to know the woman who made my son settle down."

Said Maleficent to Sleeping Beauty. And since when did Elise look at Damon as her son?

"My calendar is pretty full, Elise. I'm sorry," Bonnie fibbed. "I'll call you when I have some downtime."

"You do that. Kiss Damon for me."

Bonnie snorted and promptly hung up. Elise's well-timed call had the stench of Fatal Attraction. Bonnie may have "known" lots of people but not to a degree that any of them had free reign to give out of her personal contact information to someone who was a virtual stranger to her. Yet living in such a digital age hardly anything was top secret or private. It would have taken Elise a few clicks of a mouse to learn all there was to learn about her, and that thought made Bonnie's skin crawl.

Flying out of the bathroom, Bonnie marched over to the bed, and shook Damon until he groggily woke up.

He peered up at her with one eye, "What?"

"Your stepmother just called me inviting me to a cocktail party. She claims she wants to get to know me, but I'm not interested in getting to know her. I don't trust this woman and she has no reason to call me. Talk to her, Damon. Handle it."

With that, Bonnie blurred away leaving a very confused Damon slumped on their sex drenched bed.

Chapter end.


A/N: Thanks for reading! R&R!