Even though it was days before Elena had to see her parents, Bonnie's words had made her antsy. She couldn't stop herself from having doubts about her relationships with Damon. The truth was she was seeing trust because she wanted to see it. Because she craved Damon's presence and his touch. Did they really have a relationship built on passion, care and trust? Or what they had shared was only a sexual relationship?

So instead of heading straight to the lobby, Elena detoured to the tenth floor. She wanted to see Damon – had to see him. The construction crew and his secretary were there, but Damon was not. His secretary told her that he had an errand to run outside the building.

Without a coffee companion, she continued down to the lobby on her own. It was a swift descent, but Elena still had enough time to chastise herself for being edgy and out of sorts. After all, it was not as though anything has changed. She was happy when she was with Damon. She knew Damon was happy too.

The line at the coffee shop inside the building was long, but they also had an outdoor coffee cart that she could see through the glass front of the building, and despite it being a gorgeous day, there were only three people waiting to order. Since that seemed like as much of an invitation to enjoy the day as she was likely to get, she headed out. She ended up with an extra-large latte and a chocolate chip cookie that was about the size of a salad plate. She would either keel over from sugar shock or be so hyped up for the rest of the day that she could accomplish all her tasks without even blinking.

Elena was hoping for the latter. After all, if she was busy burning through her various work tasks, she would have no time to think about the impending torment of a dinner with her parents and she could stop thinking about her relationship with Damon.

The cookie was about the best thing ever, and she had to talk herself out of buying another one as she stood and crumpled her napkin. The only trash can was by the coffee cart, and as Elena headed in that direction, she was facing the loading area, a small section of road set off from the main traffic flow along the main road to allow for cars to pick up and drop off passengers at Gilbert Tower.

She was not really looking for anything in particular, but as she was turning to head back toward the building entrance, something familiar caught her eye. She shifted back around, and saw that it was Damon. He was standing by the passenger door of a black SUV.

Elena took a step towards him, but then he opened the door, and a tall, slender woman stepped out. She looked familiar and vibrant and lovely, and she put her hands on Damon's shoulders and brushed his lips with a kiss.

Her delicious cookie suddenly turned to acid in her stomach. Because she knew this woman. True, she had never formally met her. But she knew her name. She knew he had slept with her.

Rose Amber.

Elena stood frozen to the spot, as if her feet were anchored by the weight of her jealousy.

Damon handed her the keys and she circled the car, then got in on the driver's side and pulled away.

Damon started walking towards the building, and she pivoted back towards the coffee cart, then reached out and grabbed the edge of the condiment bar because she was now feeling even more unsteady.

Rose.

Rose?

Elena had seen her at the premiere of Stone and Steele, the documentary about Damon and his work on the Munich Art and Science Museum, but that was weeks ago. She hadn't met her then, though. She had only seen her from a distance, first approaching Damon.

After that, she had been gone. Elena had no idea who she was, and it hadn't really seemed relevant. At least not until her mother told her about the gossips.

Damon had told her that they had slept together, but that didn't mean they were ever a couple or that anything was still going on.

But if what he said was really true, then why hadn't he told her Rose was still in town? Why had she kissed him so intimately?

And why did it suddenly feel as if the world as she knew it was shifting beneath my feet?

"Elena?" His voice, as warm and gentle as a summer breeze, drifted towards her from a few feet behind her. She stayed put, motionless, then closed her eyes and drew in a breath when his hand closed over her shoulder. "Coffee break?" He brushed a kiss to the back of her ear. "Good idea."

Elena turned to face him, and then realized that she was still holding the coffee she had bought at least fifteen minutes ago. "I—no. I'm done with it." She licked her lips and tossed it into the trash, even though there was still half a latte left.

She started to head back towards the building, and Damon fell in step beside her. If he realized her mood was off, he didn't show it. And although she should be grateful, that little blip of reality had the opposite effect. It pissed her off. Because, dammit, Damon knew her. Hadn't he always been able to read her?

And if he couldn't read her now, didn't that mean that his head was full of another woman?

Oh my god, she was turning into Super Bitch.

Elena paused just before they got to the revolving door that was the entrance to Gilbert Tower. "I was looking for you earlier. We are having dinner tonight with John and the Mayor. Bonnie and Enzo, too."

"All right," Damon said. "What time?"

"Seven. Just down the street at Mystic Grill."

The conversation seemed strange and stilted, but Elena couldn't tell if that was because something was truly off, or because she was filtering it through her own little cloud of angst.

"Sounds good. Why don't you come down about six forty-five? We will walk over. Should be a nice night."

Elena nodded. And then, before she couldn't stop herself, she blurted out, "You weren't in your office earlier."

"No," he said. "I went out."

"So I gathered. Where did you go?"

"Nowhere special."

"With Rose." She tried to sound normal, but her voice was flat.

Damon looked at her, and his head tilted just slightly. Elena thought his eyes might have narrowed, but that might just be her imagination. "Yes," he said evenly. "With Rose."

They were blocking pedestrian traffic, and a tall man in a very expensive suit shot Elena an irritated glance. But she didn't care. Because now she was certain the conversation was stilted, and she didn't understand it and, dammit, it scared her. Because this wasn't the way it was supposed to be. Not between Damon and her. Not ever.

She forced a casual tone. "I didn't realize she was still in town from the documentary."

"She came back."

"You never did tell me you two are still seeing each other."

He met her eyes. Hers, Elena was sure was needy. His were as cold as arctic ice. "No, I guess I didn't."

He might as well have slapped her. "You know what, Damon, screw it." Elena saw him took a step back as if in defence against a blow, but she was too far gone to care. "You want to hold on to your secrets, and then you just fucking do that."

She stormed off, feeling like an idiot, and not at all sure if Damon was the one who was off or if she was.

Back in her office, Elena tried to concentrate. Tried, but didn't succeed.

She knew that she was jealous, but dammit, she didn't care. She wanted him today—needed him. And he wasn't there. Because he was with another woman.

So, yeah, maybe it was stupid or bitchy or unfair, but Elena was not going to wallow. She had the right to be pissed off and moody about this.

Damn.

"Bad day?"

Elena spin around in her chair to find Bonnie standing at her doorway holding a vase full of yellow roses.

Elena grimaced. "Did I say that out loud?"

"Don't worry. I have heard way more colourful language on the floor."

"Sorry. And yeah, this isn't the best of days."

"Maybe these will help." Bonnie passed her the flowers. "They just came for you."

"Really?" She supposed she should have clued in; it was not like Bonnie wandered the halls with roses. But she guessed she assumed Bonnie was walking them to the coffee station to fill the vase with water. "Who are they from?"

But that was a question that Elena asked only for form. Of course she knew who sent them. And the heart that had been feeling so heavy fluttered a bit in her chest.

Just to be sure, Elena peeked at the card.

I'm just one floor away, but it feels like worlds apart.

I'm sorry.

D.

Elena tucked the card in her purse, and smiled at Bonnie. "You are right. They helped."

"Glad to hear it." Bonnie took a step back towards the reception area, and then paused. "If Damon shows up, should I send him straight back?"

"Yeah," I say. "You do that."

Elena was about to type out a quick sorry text, but before she even started typing, she got a call from Caroline.

"Hey, what's up?" Elena asked.

"That is what I want to know," Caroline said. "Do I need to come over there and bitch-slap your boyfriend?"

Either her best friend had completely lost it or—"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Rose Amber. Have you seen this shit? Hang on."

Caroline was rattling her words off so fast Elena could barely process them, and she had just opened her mouth to ask Caroline to please slow down when she sent a text with a website link.

"Did it come through? Click on it."

"Hang on." Elena didn't want to—she really didn't want to. Because whatever it was, it was not going to be good. But she needed to know, and so she clicked. And then, yes, she cursed.

"Oh, damn."

The site was one of the eight billion celebrity gossip sites. But this one was operated like social media. So someone could start a story, and then site members could add to it with comments or photos. This one started with an image of Damon, his head bent close to Rose's, his face full of so much affection that Elena really just wanted to throw up.

There was a headline, too. Starchitect Damon Salvatore: Hollywood's newest member of Club Bad Boy?

"Oh, god," Elena said.

"I'm so sorry," Caroline said. "This is terrible, isn't it?"

But Elena was too busy checking out the images and text that followed the headline to answer. There were five pictures. The first of her and Damon at the premiere of Stone and Steele. Beneath that was another image from last night where Damon led her out of the Destiny. The last three images were of Damon and Rose. The first was what Elena saw an hour ago—her kissing him in front of Gilbert Tower. The second was the two of them seated across a table from each other, apparently having lunch. And the final one showed the two of them on the deck of his boat. It was obviously taken with a long lens from the dock. They were facing each other, his hands were on both of her shoulders, and from the angle, it looked like he was about to pull her to him and catch her in one hell of a lip-lock.

And the most horrible thing? Elena recognized the green flag of the yacht that was moored right next to them. Because it arrived this morning as Damon and she were leaving for work. Which meant that this photograph was taken today. Today.

"This isn't—" Elena tried to form a sentence, but her brain was frozen. All of her was frozen. She was cold. So very, very cold. "It can't be—"

"I sure hope the hell not," Caroline said. "I mean, they are making shit up about the three of you."

But Elena didn't hear what Caroline was saying. They were just so much background noise. Because she had found what Caroline was talking about all on her own. The text under the headline that talked about how Damon was working for Gilbert International. About how he was new to Hollywood, and he was settling right in. Getting into fistfights. Having sex with lots of women. Seducing the CEO of Gilbert International. And Rose Amber whom Damon took back to his boat after an intimate lunch for an even more intimate dessert.

This couldn't be right.

Elena scrolled down and found images of Damon with other women, all taken over the course of the last ten years. There weren't many—it was not like he was some mega movie star and the paparazzi was glued to him—but whoever wrote this article did their homework, and for each gala Damon had attended, there was a different woman on his arm. And the commentary made clear that Damon pretty much fucked his way across the United States, and was continuing to do exactly that. With Rose. With her. And with God only knew who else.

"Don't completely freak until you talk to him," Caroline warned, which was a little ironic considering she had called Elena in full freak-out mode, and Elena told her as much. "I know, I know. And I'm sorry. It's just—well, I like Damon, but I love you, and I don't want you to get hurt. And I swear if he does hurt you, I will cut his balls off with a hacksaw."

Elena cringed. But she didn't disagree.

"You are going to talk to him, right?"

"Yeah," Elena said. She didn't say when, but she knew it wouldn't be soon. Right now, she was feeling just a little too raw.

"Okay, listen, I have a meeting right now. But you call if you need me."

Elena promised that she would, and then ended the call. She sat and stared at the computer screen and then—because that really wasn't helping her mood—reached over and turned off her entire goddamn computer.

Shit.

How the hell could a day spiral down so quickly?

Elena stared at the vase of flowers on her desk—lovely roses that should add some cheer to her day, but instead were only making her miserable. "Damn."

She picked up the vase, and before she could talk herself out of it, she dropped the whole thing—glass and flowers and water and all—right into her trash.

It was not as cathartic as she had hoped, but she did feel slightly better.

The truth was that she should just haul her rear downstairs and talk to Damon, but she felt too ripped up inside. She was afraid that she would start shouting at him. Or, worse, that she would burst into tears. She needed time to get herself together. She needed to not think about Damon or Rose or those stupid photos and just let it all settled.

And since the best way to do that was to lose herself in her work, Elena turned the computer back on, pulled up her phone list, and started returning calls.

That was what Elena was doing when Damon arrived, as silent as a cat. But it didn't matter. She knew he was there, and the band around her heart that had started to loosen tightened once again.

"I look forward to getting your proposal," Elena said into the phone, then hung up. She waited one beat, then another. Then she lifted her head to face him.

She didn't want it to, but the sight of him took her breath away.

He was not dressed any differently than he was earlier. Casual slacks and a button-down shirt, the top two buttons open to expose the indentation at the base of his neck. Nothing special about the outfit. Nothing formal about his posture. On the contrary, he was standing close to her desk.

But it was the expression on his face that had knocked her flat. Passion and penitence and desire so strong it almost pulled her out of her chair. She wanted to enfold herself in his arms and pressed her head against his chest. Because wasn't Damon the one person who had always been able to make her feel better? Who could soothe and reassure her?

Not today.

Today, Elena had no one.

Today, she steeled herself as she looked him in the eye. "This really isn't a good time."

Damon glanced down, and Elena cringed as she realized that he was looking right at the flowers in her trash. She started to rise—she wanted to explain—but she forced herself to stay seated. Right now, she was not the one who needed to apologize or explain. Damon was. And if this evidence of how frustrated and pissed she was didn't prompt him, then maybe nothing would.

When Damon lifted his head and looked at her again, his eyes were flat and unreadable, just like his expression. Only the tightness in his jaw—as if he was clenching his teeth—evidences his dark mood. And it was only because she knew him so well that she could see his rising temper. "I will let you get back to work." The words were flat and measured and completely cold.

"Damon…" His name was past her lips before she could call it back, and she sat there, slightly flummoxed, because she didn't know what she intended to say.

He had taken a step backward, but now he paused.

Elena cursed herself, because she was not ready to talk about this. So she just said, "Seven o'clock. Don't forget. I will see you at the restaurant."

Damon met her eyes and held her gaze for a moment longer than was comfortable. "Seven," he finally said. Then he turned and walked away.

And although Elena rose and watched him move towards the door, Damon never once looked back.

x x x

"Considering you are the man of the hour, you are awfully damn quiet, Damon." Richard Lockwood leaned back in his chair and pushed his dinner plate away before polishing off his third martini.

"I apologize. I have a lot on my mind." Damon didn't look at Elena. Not that she expected him to. They had been managing to not look at each other for the last ninety minutes, ever since they arrived separately at the restaurant.

They were at a round table, and Elena had taken the chair next to Bonnie. Enzo had to take a call from New York and therefore he was late. John, Bonnie and Elena arrived first, and when Damon came a few moments later, he had the choice of the seat next to Elena, or the seat next to John.

He chose to sit next to Elena. And although Elena had avoided his eyes all evening, she couldn't avoid the tension that filled the air between them, so thick that she was amazed that no one else was drawn into it, like a black hole that sucked in everything that drifted too close.

She tried her best to steer the conversation towards the resort in general. But Richard had heard it all before, and kept his focus laser-sharp on Damon.

"Bet you never knew you would be such a celebrity when you were sketching your way through your childhood." Richard grinned. "I saw your documentary."

Damon smiled politely. "I hope you found it interesting."

"Fascinating," Richard said. His eyes were green but Damon's were blue, and he looked so earnest. The man was managing a multi-billion dollar company and doing a damn fine job. Plus, he was also the mayor of Mystic Falls. He was definitely an intriguing person.

Elena knew it was very bad form to poke into the personal lives of your investors. At least it was if you wanted them to keep investing.

The general topic of bad boys, however, was very much on the table as Richard leaned closer to Damon. "I have to say, I have always thought the Mikaelson are the one who have one hell of a reputation for playing fast and loose. But you certainly did a number on that Marko guy. I got to know. What was that about?"

"Just having a bad day." Elena could almost see the tension pouring out of Damon, like a red haze staining the air.

"We have started thinking about retail on the resort," Elena said brightly to Richard. "We want to keep it very high-end, boutique oriented, but I thought you and I should sit down at some point and talk about you possibly opening a retail space."

"Happy to," Richard said. "It is the celebrity thing that gets me," he continued to Damon, undaunted. "Documentary. Feature film. I saw the pictures with you and Jesse Graham. Hell, you could star in the thing if you wanted. You have got the look."

"Richard," John said firmly. "I think that considering the fact that Marko still might file a civil action, we should not expect Mr Salvatore to talk about this."

Elena's stomach twisted. Now that the criminal case had been resolved, she thought the courtroom drama was over. And she couldn't help but wonder if John knew something, or if he was just trying to shut Richard up.

She hoped it was the latter. And, frankly, she applauded the effort.

"Hey, we can drop it. I was just curious about the movie. Of course, if you do want to star in it, probably best not to beat the shit out of the producer. So what was that about? You just didn't like the script? When is it hitting theatres, anyway?"

Beside Elena, Damon's posture stiffened. His left hand was in his lap, and now he moved it to her knee. He had barely brushed her skin when he seemed to realize what he was doing, and he yanked it away as if her body was on fire.

She didn't even hesitate. She reached for him and clutched his hand with hers. Because no matter what else might be between them, Elena wouldn't have him be alone right now.

"I'm afraid you have been misinformed," Damon said, his voice stiff but polite. His hand was clenched so tight with Elena's that she had to actually grit her teeth. "There is not going to be a movie."

"Uh-huh." Richard had the look of a dog with a bone, and Elena was certain that he was going to pursue this line.

John, thank goodness, came to the rescue, asking Richard about an arson claim in one of his Chicago-based stores. Apparently that arose from a huge drama between the store manager and a street gang, and Richard was interested enough in the soap opera aspects to stay on point.

As the conversation finally shifted away from Damon, he eased up on her hand. And when the conversation shifted again, and Bonnie mentioned about Caroline called her, Damon released Elena's hand entirely.

She deflated, as if that simple loss of touch was more profound than the distance that had been growing between them all afternoon.

She forced herself not to show it, though. Instead, she focused on Bonnie. "Oh, good. I'm glad she called. I meant to tell you tonight. I called Caroline this morning. We are all set for Monday evening."

"Hot date?" Richard asked.

"Art exhibition for Mystic Falls High School," Elena said. "We had to postpone the last one."

Bonnie smiled. "I'm glad we have managed to get this one sorted out. I will meet you in the school hall," she said. "Around six? And then maybe Enzo and Damon can join us after for a drink?" Bonnie said the last with such a question in her voice that Elena was absolutely positive she had noticed the rift between Damon and her.

Elena was about to say that it might not be the best night for socializing, when Damon responded. "I think that's a great idea." He looked at her as he spoke, his eyes soft with apology. And although she could not say for certain that they would be fine come Monday, she did know that she was done being completely mad at him. It was time to talk about this.

And so Elena nodded. "Yes," she said. "It is a great idea."

They talked about the art exhibition at the Mystic Falls High School. The conversation meanders from there to Richard's career as the mayor and then back full circle to Damon's assault.

This time around, however, Richard was quite as pushy. "I heard you were serving your community service at the Mystic Falls' Foundation."

"I start Sunday," Damon said. "There is a fund-raiser that I will be working, and I'm looking forward to it. Not something most of us criminal types say about our community service obligations, but I'm glad to have the chance to do some charity work. And it is a good cause," he added, looking at John. "I should be volunteering for a place like that even without the grey cloud of incarceration hanging over my head."

"You should," John said. "Mystic Falls' Foundation has helped a lot of children and families in need."

The waiter came with a dessert menu, and the meal finished easily, with the conversation never drifting back to anything too touchy. Elena skipped dessert and opted only for coffee. And when they all finally headed back outside, Damon paused at the restaurant's valet stand and handed the college-aged attendant his ticket.

"Did you drive here, Damon? Where are you heading?" John asked

He pointed generally to the left. "Somewhere," he said. "Care for a nightcap?"

"I would," John said before looking at Elena. "I can drop you back at your house, Elena."

"She is with me." Damon turned his attention from John to Elena. "We have some things to discuss. About the resort," he added, though the addendum was clearly a lie.

John nodded and both Enzo and Bonnie said their goodbyes before walking away.

Elena turned to Damon. "I'm with you?"

"I damn sure hope so," he said. "Because having you not be with me is brutal."

The valet arrived, then parked the Camaro in front of them and got out, holding the door open for Damon.

Damon stepped to the passenger side and did the same for her. "Please, Elena. We need to talk. More than that, I think I need to apologize."

Elena got in the car. Honestly, there was never any doubt.

And although she didn't know what exactly they were going to say to each other, she did know that there were things that must be said.

x x x

Traffic was light, and they managed to get from town to Damon's boat in less than half an hour. During the entire drive, Damon said nothing, and they both just sat back, lost in their own thoughts.

When they arrived at the marina, Damon manoeuvred to his parking slot in front of his boat, killed the engine, and turned to Elena. "I miss you. And I'm sorry."

Elena swallowed, and then blinked back tears. "I need to hear you say it. Are you sleeping with her?"

"No." The word was fast and harsh. "God, no. I told you. Once, and that was a long time ago. She is a friend, Elena. She is only a friend."

She nodded, and then opened her door. "Come on."

Damon still looked a bit wary, but he followed her out of the car and then onto the boat.

As soon as they were on deck, Elena went to him. She slid her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his chest. His arms surrounded her, and she breathed deep, feeling content for the first time in hours. They stayed like that, feeling the boat swayed beneath their feet, until she finally pulled away, then went to sit on one of the lounge chairs.

"Is that all that's bothering you?" Damon asked. "Rose?"

Elena shook her head, trying to articulate what she hadn't even really worked out in her own head. "I was pissed," she admitted. "Because when I met you in front of the office, it was clear you were keeping secrets. And—no," she said as Damon started to speak. "Let me get this out. And I didn't like the way I felt when she kissed you. I—I was jealous." Elena licked her lips. "And then I saw the other pictures."

His brow furrowed. "What other pictures?"

"On social media. You on the boat with Rose today. And you with other women you have dated over the last few years. Usually at parties and stuff."

"I haven't seen them."

"No? Well, they pissed me off. And I know that it's stupid, and I know that we weren't together then. And I know that you told me they didn't mean anything to you—"

"I told you that because I meant it."

"I know. You just fucked them. Except for Rose, you didn't care about them. Not like that. I get it. I really, really do." Elena shrugged. "But I'm still jealous. Especially when I think about, you know, the other stuff."

"Other stuff?"

Elena could feel her cheeks turning pink, which pissed her off because she didn't want to be embarrassed or uncomfortable. She wanted to keep a tight grip on this conversation, and she was afraid that she was doing a piss-poor job of that. "You like control, Damon. And we have done stuff. In bed, I mean. And I like it—I do. I like it a lot." As she spoke, she was rubbing hers wrists, trying to calm herself. "And I can't help thinking of all the other women…"

She cut herself off because she was saying too much. And honestly, she didn't intend to say any of this. Hell, she hadn't even fully processed any of this until she started talking. All she knew was Rose. Jealous. Other women. Jealous.

Apparently she had unplumbed jealous depths. Who knew?

Damon had been sitting beside her on the lounger, but now he moved to kneel in front of her. He rested his hands on her knees, and the contact was warm and comforting. "I have slept with a lot of women but my heart belongs to you." His smile was a little crooked. "You have stolen my heart the moment I laid eyes on you."

He leaned forward, and then kissed her softly. "I love you, Elena," he said as he pulled her to him. "And I assure you, you are the only woman I have given my heart to."

Elena shook her head. "I don't like this part of me. The jealous part. It is shrewish and icky and all sorts of things I don't like. But I don't want to lose you. And I see things like that. Pictures. Or you keeping secrets. And I just get scared and twitchy, and I'm sorry." She took a deep breath, because those words spilled out of her fast and furious.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was going out with Rose today."

"No, no. I'm the one who is sorry. Really. I was just being bitchy. And I'm sorry."

"Oh, baby." Damon stroke her cheek. "Come with me."

He took her hand and led her below deck to the small galley. Elena sat at the table, and he came to join her, bringing a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a box of chocolate cookies. He took one, then held out the box to her. She didn't really need it, but she took it anyway, then took a tiny bite as Damon leaned back in his chair and started to speak.

"I didn't know Rose had come back to town," he said. "She went home after the screening, and I just assumed she was still in Los Angeles." He paused to wash his cookie down with wine. "She called before lunch. Said she was in town and needed to talk. Her mother died about a month ago."

"Oh." Now Elena felt even more like a bitch. "I'm sorry."

"It has been…hard on her." Damon sighed and pressed his fingertips to the bridge of his nose. "I told you she was a friend, and that is true. But it is not just Rose I'm close to, it is the whole family. Especially Trevor."

"Trevor?"

"Julian owns the gym and hooks me up for the fight club. Trevor is one of the trainers in the gym but I have known him since high school." He exhaled slowly. "Trevor is Rose's youngest brother."

"Oh."

"I have known their family since high school." Damon took a deep breath, then drained the last of his wine. He ran his fingertip over the rim idly as he spoke, and Elena didn't think he was even aware that he was doing it. "You asked why I don't want the movie made. Well, Rose is a big part of the reason."

"Rose?" Elena didn't understand what this woman had to do with a movie about a house Damon built in Santa Fe.

Santa Fe.

"It is her house? She is a Fletcher?" The Santa Fe house—the one that pretty much launched Damon's career—was commissioned by Arvin Fletcher.

Damon nodded. "He is her dad."

"Oh." Arvin Fletcher was one of the biggest land developers in the country. He started out ranching in New Mexico and was smart about his investments. He was not worth as much as the Gilbert family, but Elena bet it was close. And when he hired a then relatively unknown architect to build him a residence just outside of Santa Fe proper, he put Damon on the map. Afterward, the house grew in notoriety. Because one of Fletcher's three daughters murdered her twin and then killed herself. Rose, Elena realized, was the surviving sister.

Wow.

She stood and started to pace, trying to get her head around this. "So you don't want the movie to happen because you are close to this family. Fletcher gave you a huge break and you want to protect them?"

"That is part of it. But only a small part. Rose has PTSD because of what had happened. Now she is a rising star in Hollywood. She doesn't want anyone to know about her background."

"Oh." Elena was not entirely sure what to say. "Is that why she has changed her name?"

"Yes. Her real name is Rosemary Fletcher. She used her mother's maiden name Amber." He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "Everyone thinks that she wants a part of the movie but they are wrong. She is worried about the press getting a peek at all the family skeletons. And they will, you know. If they make this movie, the family will become an open book. Even if the screenwriter doesn't poke and prod, the media will. And I don't want it to affect Rose's reputation. I know how bad it can get. They will keep digging and eventually they will find out Amelia had mental illness."

"She was the one who killed herself and her twin?"

He exhaled, then nodded, but it was clear that talking about this upset him. "Yes. She shot Carolyn. Rose is their older sister."

"The script suggests Amelia went crazy because of you," Elena said gently. She hadn't actually read the script, but she heard that from her mother about it.

His expression darkened. "She was infatuated, yes. But I wouldn't want to guess as to why she did anything."

Elena just nodded, realizing that she had struck a nerve.

"The bottom line is that I don't want Rose and Trevor affected by this drama again. They have suffered enough."

"I understand."

There was a brief pause. After a moment, Damon looked straight at her. "Elena, I need to tell—never mind."

Elena moved to him and took his hand. "What?"

"I just need to fix this—and I don't know how."

"Fix it? You mean, to stop the movie?"

There was a long pause before he nodded.

"Have you talked to a lawyer?" Elena suggested. "Alaric. Talk to Alaric."

He drew a deep breath. "I did. But Alaric said we can't really stop a company from producing a movie."

"Oh."

"Now you know why I'm so against the movie and why I beat up Marko. I want Reed and Marko to keep their nosy, voyeuristic ass away from the people I care about." He reached for her hand. "Can you understand that?"

"Yeah." Elena squeezed his fingers. "I do. And I really am sorry I was such a bitch earlier."

Damon chuckled. "You weren't."

"Oh, I totally was."

He moved his hand to her cheek and she leaned against it, soaking in his warmth. She looked up at his face, and his expression was fierce. "No," he said. The word was firm.

Damon sucked in air, then ran his fingers through his hair before pushing out of his chair and walking across the open space to a window that overlooked the open sea. He looked out at the darkness, and Elena could see the tension in his shoulders. She wanted to go to him, to hold him and help him ease his worry about his friends. But she forced herself to stay seated. To wait until he had said everything there was to say.

"I don't want to keep secrets from you." Damon was still facing the window, but now he turned. "I don't. But at the same time, things will come out when they come out. Does that make sense? Do you understand?"

"You know I do," Elena said. "I said so when you told me that Pastor Young is your biological father. I don't have a right to your secrets. And it is wrong of me to get bitchy and make it worse for you."

She drew a breath for courage. "Honestly, I'm not really sure how much of today was even about you or Rose or any of those other women. I was in a bad mood, and on any other day I might have actually handled the whole thing like a sane person."

Immediately, his eyes sharpened. "Why? What happened?"

"Nothing specific," she lied. "Just a bad day."

Damon was watching her face, his expression knowing. "Now who is the one keeping secrets?"

"Me," Elena admitted. "But it can wait." She reached out and took his hand. "Truly."

His brow furrowed as he moved closer to her. He was right there in front of her, and Elena could feel the power and concern radiating off him, and all of it was directed at her. "Don't ever think that."

She blinked, confused. "Think what?"

"That you need to pull your punches with me."

"Pull my—what?"

"Don't think you have to coddle me if I have had a bad day."

"I'm not," Elena said, then realized it was a lie the second the words spilled out. "Okay, maybe I am, but what is wrong with that? You want to take care of Rose and Trevor, right? Well, I want to take care of you."

"Sweet," he said. "But it doesn't work like that." He sat down again and tugged her into his lap. "You tell me what is on your mind so that I can help you, too."

He pulled her closer and Elena curled up against him, feeling warm and safe.

"I don't know where to start," she admitted.

"The beginning is usually a good place. Or you could tell me what happened today."

"I'm just anxious about having dinner with my parents." Elena drew a breath, relieved at how easy that was.

"Why?"

Because I'm planning to tell them I want to be with you, Elena thought. And I know they won't be pleased about it.

"Things were sort of crazy in the past few weeks," she said. "I'm kind of confused."

Damon narrowed his eyes. "Confused?"

Elena lifted a shoulder. "The resort, Wes pulling out of the project, and you came on board…Then Dad fired you from the project…All of these are crazy, don't you think so?"

"Right."

She sighed. "And I'm not going to lie about this, Damon. You and I – we are messy, really messy."

There was another brief pause.

"You are right," Damon said eventually. "We are messy and complicated. And you have forgotten something."

He pushed away from Elena, and Elena couldn't read his expression. She didn't know what was going through his mind.

"What?" she asked, and he responded with a soft laugh.

"We are bad for each other." Damon closed the distance between them, and Elena could feel the power and heat—the rage and compassion—rolling off him. "Really bad for each other. But I don't care because right now I only want to kiss you."