Author's note: So many of you may wonder why Elena isn't going to the police, and the reason is that she doesn't trust them after her first encounter with them at the beginning of the story. Damon doesn't trust them either because they immediately believed he was responsible for Jeremy's death. I hope that clarifies any questions you may have. This isn't a simple story where good and bad are clearly defined. As a writer, I prefer to explore the grey areas. Thank you for reading and thank you for the kind reviews.

Chapter 19

Elena

Grayson taught me many lessons, one of which was to never fall in love. "It'll make you weak," he said, over and over again. "The only love that is true is that between a parent and a child."

Looking back on that moment, he could've been talking about Jeremy. He could've been talking about me and my biological parents. But there's one simple fact that remains true. Love makes you weak. Grayson took me in because he loved Miranda and wanted to give her a baby, when I ended up ruining everything. Love made Damon drop the ball when he was supposed to watching Jeremy and Stefan. Love made me go back to my house in the south side, instead of going back the Salvatore mansion. I wanted to protect him and keep him from all of this and now I'm stuck in his pool house, being guarded.

I enjoyed sitting back and relaxing for a change, and I've been a good little girl- sticking to my cage and not wandering outside it.

Except…. I need to do something and Damon isn't going to like it.

It's Friday morning, the sun hasn't risen, but the clock tells me it's going to rise within the next half hour. Damon is by my side, his face in my neck, and his hands around my waist. With his legs wrapped around me. I'm in a Damon cocoon. It's not unpleasant. It's actually quite the opposite— it's delightful being wrapped up in Damon. Yesterday, I stayed in the pool house with Santi and Mal and watched television while Damon went to school.

Surprisingly enough, on Thursday, the college admissions essays that were due to Mrs. White were easy to write. I'd sent them to her a couple of weeks ago, but yesterday, I was able to send an edited version. It's the most honest piece of writing I've ever written, and I'm hoping that administrators from schools I applied to can see that.

Once I was done with my admission essays, I watched television with Mal and Santi and then went to the gym to run sprints. The bruise on my cheek has almost completely faded and I'm not as sore as I was a couple days ago. Other than missing fourteen hours from my memory, it seems as though everything is back to normal.

I'm eager to put it behind me, though Damon can't seem to let it go. At first, he was almost relieved that I had little to no memory of that evening, but as hours wore on, he came to the realization that it wasn't exactly healthy for me to completely block out these memories and pretend that nothing had happened.

Damon had his arms wrapped around my waist and his legs wrapped around me, cocooning me in. I don't mind waking up this way- I actually prefer waking up this way because Damon kisses my neck so sweetly and then hums into my neck, asking me what I'd like for breakfast before pealing himself off of me. It's a very PG way to wake up.

I'm supposed to go to school today, but I can't- I need Damon to go without me.

I keep the white duvet over my head and moan like a child. "I don't want to go!"

Damon flips the duvet over. "You are not a coward, Elena."

I grab the duvet with one hand and flip it back over my head. "I'll go next week."

I wait. This is usually the point in which Damon would drag me out of bed or just leave. It seems as though neither of us is moving. "If you don't go," he says, slowly and methodically into my ear. "I'll be forced to go to my party with Ainsley, and I'd rather go with you."

I don't know when Damon and I became a couple— I actually don't know what we are. It's like we slowly morphed into a more mature version of the relationship we had as kids who used to do science fairs together and pickpocket strangers at the mall. I can't pinpoint a moment when it changed and I'm not talking about when he gave me an orgasm on the hood of his car. Maybe all those letters we wrote back and forth for English?

Damon's been surprisingly honest. He told me about the party and his fake girlfriend at school. It didn't bother me as much as he thought it would, but really, who's he coming home to at night? He isn't passive or guilty towards me. He's not avoiding me, which is what he'd do if he had something to hide.

I swallow and sit up because I don't know how he's going to take what I'm about to say. I'm propped up against pillows while Damon lazily looks at me. He's just wearing pajama bottoms and I instantly want to go back to our cocoon.

"I think you should go with Ainsley."

Damon's eyebrows shoot up so fast, he sits up next to me. "Excuse me, what?"

I pull the duvet over my lap as an added protective barrier. "I think you need to hate me right now," I explain. "At school. For show."

He shakes his head. "You're going to school, I'm going to carry your books and hold your hand, and maybe make out with you by your locker. I have a certain fantasy about that locker that's been brewing in my mind for the last couple of years."

I need to push him.

"You won't kiss me now!" I shout.

He scoffs. "I kissed you this morning."

"On the neck and it was very sweet but you're treating me like I'm going to break."

"You've been through a lot—"

"I don't remember anything!" I interrupt. "I remember being taken and tied up in the cabin and flashes here and there, yes. But I don't remember the rest and I'm grateful, Damon. You admitted last night that it's odd Chase, Noah, and Franklin are being silent. We both agreed we don't want to involve the police. We don't know what their next move is— nothing has been said about the fire you set. You need to hate me Damon, shouldn't be hard for you. Talk about me, say I'm used goods, call me Easy Elena. Lead them into a sense of complacency. They need you, Damon. There's a full school year left and I doubt they want to go through it without your infamous parties or connections."

Damon moves so he's sitting partially on the bed but able to face me. His jaw is set and his eyes are rather stormy. He's pissed. "You're forgetting something, Elena. I remember. I remember getting a package with your blood on it. I remember seeing your naked body in a cage. I remember carrying your bruised and broken body into the house. I remember holding you while you vomited everything that was in your system. I remember having the doctor come to look at you- hearing the results. This happened to you and I'm glad you don't remember it, but I want to kill those assholes for what they did to you because I remember and I never want you to have to go through that again."

I'm so taken aback, I feel tears prick at my eyes. Am I asking for too much?

No, Damon isn't acting rationally. He knows I'm right, I know he does because he only lashes out like this when I'm right. I swallow the tears that are about to spring from my eyes. "It wasn't long ago you hated me. It wasn't long ago you were hanging out with those guys. They hurt me once before, remember? At your party. You know I'm right, you know that you have to do this."

"But why do you want it so badly, Elena. Why do you want me to hate you?"

I scoff, he's being dramatic. "It's just for school."

He crawls back on the bed. "Do you know what happens when I hold you, just at first?"

Where is he going with this?

He continues to crawl over me so his arms and legs are on either side of me and his head is above mine so I'm forced to focus on him and only him. "You freeze," he says lightly, almost a whisper. "For a second, and then you let me hold you."

Am I that messed up? I blink several times, my eyes darting anywhere bit at him. "Why are you telling me this?"

"You've been through a lot," he repeats from moments earlier. "And I'm not just talking about recent events, but after Jeremy died, you've been on your own. I wasn't there for you, but you're so used to taking care of yourself— in every way, you don't know what to do when someone does care for you."

"You think I'm going to push you away," I breathe.

His hand moves a lock of hair away from my eyes and tilts my chin with his thumb and index finger so I'm forced to look at him. "You already are, so if I do this know that I am going to remind you every second I get the chance that I have your back. You don't have to go through this alone anymore."

"Kiss me."

He shakes his head. "Not right now."

"I want to prove that I won't tense up," I say. I don't want to be a freak. I don't want to spend the rest of my life messed up or dealing with the ramifications of my fucked up childhood.

Damon reads something in my eyes, leans down and kisses my lips— and I feel it. The split second of hesitation and I know Damon does too. Except, instead of ending it and moving off the bed, he deepens the kiss— almost taking my moment of hesitation as a challenge. One hand is behind my neck while the other keeps him propped above me.

He's soft at first, as he has been these past few days. Velvet soft and so sweet, I crave something darker and angrier. I thread my fingers through his hair and pull him deeper. I want to feel him on me. "More," I moan, opening my mouth to welcome his tongue. Damon growls, deepening the kiss- exploring my mouth. His tongue slides against mine, sending tingles up my spine. I couldn't think about what I was planning, I couldn't think about tomorrow's meet, or how Damon would act at school, it was just him and me back in our little cocoon.

His hands are beneath my tank, rubbing my bare flesh. "I could skip school."

I bow my back into his touch, searching for friction. "You can't," I mutter, sucking his bottom lip while his hands slowly graze the underside of my breasts.

"Oh, God," I moan. "Keep doing that."

He does the opposite. He moves his hands out of my shirt and rests his palms on either side of my head. "Why not?"

"The plan- you hate me and you have a party tonight," I remind him.

I know I pissed him off because he groans and moves away from me, off the bed. "I don't like this."

I get up and walk towards him. "It's not like I'm loving it, either."

Damon's heated gaze tracks my bare legs and shorts, up to where his hands were seconds before. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration and groans. "Fine."

I am mesmerized by him; getting off the bed moved his pajama bottoms just below his hips, just above….he pulls me to him, tilts my head up and presses his lips to mine. "Don't look at me like that if you don't want me to stay."

I want him to stay and spend the morning with me being lazy but I need to do this before it's too late.

Damon continues. "Santi and Mal will be here to keep an eye on things. Text me if you need anything- I'll ditch the party early and be back here as soon as I can."
"Don't, I'll be fine; I'll probably nap all day."

He smiles sadly before leaving the guest house to get ready for school. I take a moment to check out his ass as he leaves because I'm only human and he has the cutest little dimples right at the base of his spine. I probably should've kept him in bed a little longer.

I spin on my heel and head for the bathroom so I can shower and get ready for the day I have planned. Turns out all the clothes in the closet and dresser are mine- Damon bought them when I was passed out. He even picked them out. Thank god I wasn't wearing clothes formerly purchased for Giuseppe's girlfriend of the month.

Once I dress in black jeans and a black tank. I leave a black hoodie and converse sneakers in the bathroom. Then I do what I did the previous days Damon went to school, and invite Mal and Santi into my room.

"Are we going to continue with that Mars show?" Mal asks, already getting comfortable on the chair by my bed.

"Sure," I reply, lying on the unmade bed.

Santi walks in with two mugs of coffee and a couple of pastries. He hands me a mug and a plate with a raspberry danish on it and sits down on a chair he brought in from the entertainment room. We watch television for an hour or so. Damon checks in on me and I send him a picture of Mal, leaning toward the television with his elbows on his knees and his chin propped on his knuckles— totally into the episode. I send it with the caption, Marshmallow.

After a couple of episodes I tell them that I'm tired and going to take a morning nap. "Do you want me to get you anything?" Santi asks.

God, they're both so nice. I feel bad for what I'm about to do. "I took some medicine this morning that made me drowsy," I lie. "I just need rest."

They both leave and the door clicks, locking me in. I do something I've never done before but have only seen in movies. I draw all the curtains and blinds, darkening the room. Then I take towels and linens from the bathroom and make it look like a body is beneath the duvet. I step back and look at my work. It won't buy me the day, but it'll buy me enough time to get to where I'm going. I sit on the edge of the bed and turn the GPS off my phone and make sure the Find My Phone app is logged out, then I turn off the phone completely. I'll text Damon when I get to where I'm going.

I go into the bathroom, slip on the Converse sneakers and the hoodie, then standing on the toilet seat, I pop the bathroom window open. The other day, I told Santi and Mal that there's a tree I can easily climb down if I want to leave. I, of course, lied. However, there is a garden trellis I can climb down. I'm going to have to jump from one point, but it's my only option. Mal and Santi are currently outside my door and don't have a view of this window.

I have to pull myself up, but I'm able to slip out the window and grab the white wooden ledge and prop my foot on the wooden rungs of the trellis. I don't have to go far before I jump to the ground. The noise of my feet hitting the ground is so loud, I worry I drew attention to myself, so I hide with my back pressed flat against the side of the house.

After a minute of no one coming to see what the noise was, I sprint on the outside of the property, across the expansive lawn, to the garage. I was planning on going into the garage from the back entrance, which is usually unlocked, but I see his Camaro parked out front. Damon must've taken the Maserati today, or one of the other fancy cars his dad has in the garage.

The hood is down, so I hop in the car, lean over and hot-wire the car, which saves me the time it'd take to find the keys. I put my phone in the cup holder and start the drive to Falls City.

I decided something yesterday. Damon and I have too many problems coming at us in several directions. I missed the Monday drop off, so I know Moretti's men are after me and possibly Damon. I need to see him so I can straighten this situation out in case they do decide to go after Damon. Dom told me that he didn't like to kidnap and he doesn't seem like the kind of guy that would act without thinking things through. He's waiting to see when I'll show up on his radar, which is exactly what I plan on doing.

I turn on the radio and listen to whatever classic rock station Damon was listening to while making the drive to Falls City. After battling rush hour traffic, I park two blocks away from the building that houses the law offices of Diego Romano and sit in the car. I turn on my phone but keep the location settings off. No text messages. Either Santi and Mal haven't figured out I left or Damon is already sending out the search party.

I put the hood covering of the car up, and get out. Damon would quite literally kill me if the car got stolen. Hopefully, this won't take long. I walk slowly toward the offices, giving security every opportunity to spot me on the camera. I then open the doors and wait in line to go through security. It's busier on a weekday. Men and women in business attire, holding fancy briefcases talk about the happy hour they plan to go to after work to celebrate the end of the workweek. When it's my turn, a woman with her hair in a French twist and a blue uniform asks for my I.D., which I don't have.

"I don't have it," I shrug.

"You don't have your I.D.?"

"Nope," I reply. "But my name is Elena Gilbert, and I have my phone, does that count?"

I know it doesn't but in about sixty seconds, someone is going to come and collect me.

The security guard gives me a scathing look, and the people behind me in line mutter remarks about being in a hurry and "Can you believe this girl?"

"I need to see Domenico Moretti or Diego Romano," I say. "Either fella is fine."

Thirty seconds.

"Neither work in this building," she says. "Are you sure you're at the right place?"

Ten seconds.

"Oh, yes. I'm very sure."

"Well, I can't let you through the metal detector until I see identification."

"Sheila," someone says from behind her. "We can take it from here."

Jasper. He looks…pissed isn't the right word. Murderous is more like it.

"Been demoted," I remark casually. "Again?"

Then he does something I did not expect. He walks to my side, twists me around, and hooks one of the handcuff links over my wrist. He then presses my back down, so I'm forced to lean over the conveyor belt next to the metal detector.

"Isn't that unnecessary?" Sheila says from her podium. "She's just a kid."

"She's more dangerous than she looks," Jasper replies.

"He's not wrong," I add.

He grunts, moving me to a standing position and guiding me past the security rope. "Happy Friday!" I shout at the line of people that were behind me. Some cheer, some have their phones out taking pictures of the high school girl getting taken my someone equivalent to mall security.

"Can I ask you a question?"

He grunts in response. "You're going to anyway."

"Did it feel good to snap those cuffs on my wrist? I bet you've been fantasizing about me like that for the past week. Bending me over and cuffing me while you…"

He tugs on them again so the metal bites my skin, but I don't react as he guides me to a series of elevators. He pulls me against him, so the chain of the cuffs are in one hand while he presses the elevator button with another. "You could do it you know, no one is watching."

Someone departs an elevator, I turn to the man leaving the elevator, moving my body ever so slightly— just like my uncle taught me. "Hardened criminal, right here. Looking for a good lawyer, you don't know one, do you?"

The man gives me a friendly look, and shakes his head. I twist my wrist just so and bolt to the elevator just as the doors were about to close. Holding the keys I lifted from Jasper's pocket, I unlock the cuffs. I rub my wrists before pressing the button for the eightieth floor, just as I did on Saturday. If I'm going to meet with Domenico, I'm doing it on my terms. He's either here or he'll be here and I can wait.

When I reach the floor, it's as empty as it was on Saturday. I go to the office I broke into last time, and sit in a large black leather chair and wait. I take the phone out of my pocket. No message from Damon, which means Mal and Santi probably shouldn't be in charge of watching me.

I respond to an email from my coach saying he's sorry that I've been sick but he's wondering if I'll be well enough to go to the meet tomorrow. I tell him I'll be there. Then I check social media, which I regret. The first thing I did was go on Ainsley's page and sure enough, she's posted pictures of Damon. Her sitting on his lap in the cafeteria. She's wearing a very small dance team uniform. To his credit, Damon doesn't look too happy about it. I did this. I pushed him to do this and yet I'm sick to my stomach when I see comments from other girls beneath the photo about how cute they are together.

"There is a bathroom in this office you can use if you are going to be sick," a deep and familiar voice comments.

I look up from my phone and see Domenico Moretti stand before me in all his perfect badass glory, wearing a thirty-thousand dollar Rolex and custom made suit. "I'd suggest firing Jasper, but I don't want to be responsible for someone else's death."

"He's my little sister's kid," Dom remarks.

Nepotism. "Figures."

Dom sits opposite me, which feels nice considering I'm sitting in the power chair, across the massive oak desk.

"You were not there for the delivery. Actually, none of my men have been able to find you since Saturday," he comments, like he's commenting on the weather.

"I've been busy."

"But you are here now, that is good. Very good."

"I'm not selling for you," I state, leaning over the desk and steepling my fingers.

It's not an obvious frown, but a small twitch. He's curious. "You are not?"

"Nope," I say, obnoxiously elongating out the 'o' and popping the 'p'.

He sighs, like he was hoping it wouldn't come to this, takes out his gun and places it on the table in front of him. "What makes you think you can get away with saying no to me?"

I lean back in the massive wing back leather office chair and slowly smile. "You're not going to kill me, so you can put the gun away. It's big and obnoxious, kind of like you."

He casually picks a piece of lint off the collar of his jacket and tosses it aside. "Every week, during your shift at Patty's Diner, one of my men will deliver half a kilo of coke. You will sell it for the marked price and we will pick up the cash the following week with the delivery. Your parents owe a quarter million, they now owe a half a million."

"Why?"

"Interest."

I sit up straight, with my shoulders back, and look him square in the eyes. "Except, my parents are Isabella Russo and Antonio Giovanni, but you already knew that, didn't you? You won't kill or hurt me because I'm worth more alive than dead. You need me, but you didn't realize that until Miranda Gilbert sold information on me, which is why you only recently came after me."

It came to me yesterday when I was lounging around Damon's house. Why was Dom so recently fascinated with me? How did my mom get her money? She wasn't working and yet she was able to pay some bills and keep up her own drug habit. I'm willing to bet anything she sold my information- information she'd been keeping secret for years to Dom. It explains why she skipped town and how Dom was able to get the deed to the house.

Dom's fists clench- this is the first time I've seen him lose control. "I may not be able to kill you but I can keep you at my compound until I need you."

"Then why haven't you?" I ask, almost laughing. "You need me, and having me sell drugs is child's play- a way to bring me into your fold and your debt until you can make your move."

Domenico reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key, he places it on the table. "That is a key to a safety deposit box a block away from here."

My brows furrow. "What's in it?"

"Information you need. Letters from Grayson, information about you and your biological parents," Domenico explains.

I reach to take the key, but he slides it away from me. I take a deep breath. "And what do you want from me?"

He tilts his head to the side. "I am impressed, Elena."

"Thank you?"

"You figured this all out much quicker than I anticipated, but there is something you are forgetting."

I'm going toe-to-toe with a mob boss, of course I'm missing something. Of course it wasn't that easy. It was a risk I knew I was taking because either they were going to come after me and Damon or I was going to come to them before it came to that. I had no choice. I gambled coming here knowing no matter what, he wouldn't kill me. I also knew I was going in blind. I didn't know how he was going to react.

"What am I forgetting?"

"You did not grow up in this business. When you are born in it, you cannot leave unless it is in a body bag. Russo and Giovanni do not know you are alive or where you are- I make one phone call and you will be brought into the family, I will gain a valuable ally, and you will be sold off into marriage. No college dorms. No career. No freedom."

The thought is sobering.

"Why do you want me to sell for you so badly?" I ask.

"You do not have a history in the business and you do not have another agenda. I trust you and I need someone I trust to get me into Mystic Falls. You are determined and resourceful and motivated," he explains.

"Mystic Falls isn't that big of a city. It has to be small potatoes compared to New York and Los Angeles," I reply.

Dom tilts his head to the side and considers me before replying. "It is small potatoes if you are feebleminded. Mystic Falls is the closest city in Virginia located next to a port. The Feds do not know how valuable it is so they are not all over it like ones in California or New York- but the Russians do. If I can gain a foothold in Mystic Falls first, I control the port."

I was wrong about everything, so very wrong. "So you don't need me for my name."

A smirk plays on his lips and his eyes darken. "Not right now."

His gaze sends a chill to my bone. Not entirely in a bad way. I take a couple of deep breaths and think. I am the daughter of two large mob families. If they find out where I am, I'll be sold off. If I sell for Dom, he'll what…? He still hasn't said. "What's in it for me? What makes your deal better than just disappearing? Or going to New York and meeting family I never knew. They may be nice," I say with a shrug.

Dom takes out his phone, unlocks it, and lays it on the table in front of me. It's an article posted after the trial. Detailing what happened and the outcome. "I didn't know this made national news."

"Small town girl brings down local football celebrity," he mutters. "Look at the names mentioned."

My name, obviously, but also… "Salvatore."

The security video was from his party. Quotes from the previous article that was printed before the trial are quoted. Quotes from Lucinda about Giuseppe Salvatore and a girl that looked just like me running out of his office in a towel. The name isn't mentioned but I know, Domenico knows, and anyone who has the slightest familiarity with Isabella Russo's story will know. After all, Giuseppe was the one that arranged for the Gilberts to take me in.

"Right now, it is only rumors. However, one more connection and they will come for you. I will make sure they do not look this way," he holds up the security deposit box key. "I will give you information. We will start small- half a kilo, already broken up, sixty for a gram. You have the weekend to unload it."

"What if I get caught?"

"Call Diego, you still have his card, yes?"

I look into his dark brown, almost black eyes. He's so confident- so sure this is all going to work out just the way he wants. I knew I couldn't avoid him but this feels no different than being tied up in that cabin with boys in skull masks playing games. "My brother felt so guilty for being responsible for his best friend's death that he killed himself. If this is my life- selling for you, owing you, constantly fighting for some semblance of a life, you might as well take that gun and shoot me. I've been surrounded by death for the past five years. I know death well, and I am not afraid of his face."

"Which is why I need you," he says, impressed by my words. Clearly, they did not have the effect I'd hoped. "People who fear death get killed in my line of work. Selling will not be your life, I promise you that. Let us see how this weekend goes and take it from there."

Domenico starts to stand, but I stop him. "Promise me something."

"What?" He replies sharply.

"You can't touch Damon Salvatore," I state. "Don't hurt him, don't go after him, don't kill him—you or any of your people. If he dies, I go home to New York and help my dad take over Mystic Falls."

Domenico pauses, buttons up the bottom of his suit jacket, and clears his throat. "Done."

"Okay then," I reply.

Dom guides me out of the empty office floor and to the elevators. "Who taught you how to get out of cuffs? It is not a usual skill for a girl to have."

I scoff. "Kinda narrow-minded, don't you think?"

He lifts a shoulder up. "I do not know many people to have that skill," he corrects.

"Better," I say, moving into the elevator car that just opened. "My Uncle John taught me."

"He is not your uncle."

"He is in the way that counts."

Dom just hums like he knows something or just realized something.

"What?" I turn to look at him but he is tall, I have to take a step back. There haven't been many occasions where we've stood side by side like this. He has to be about a foot taller than me.

"John Gilbert was mentioned in your father's letters to you."

Wait, what? "You read the letters? It's illegal to read someone else's mail."

"Not the worst illegal thing I have done."

"What did he say about Uncle John?"

"He knew about you, don't you think it is interesting that you are so resourceful?"

"That's Uncle John, I'm more surprised he isn't the Gilbert that worked for you," I say.

"He is out of the country and unreachable," he mutters. "I checked."

"My Uncle John is one of the smartest people I know. He's a ghost. No one will be able to find him unless he allows it," I explain, plus he can't enter the country without going to jail for life, or being murdered on the street by someone like the person standing next to me. Uncle John is a con artist and some of my best memories growing up were with him and Damon.

The elevator dings and we're not on the lobby like I thought we'd be. We're on floor seven- this floor looks like it's still under construction. Consequently, Dom places a yellow construction helmet on my head, not bothering with one for himself. I follow him through several drapes of tarp and into an office that looks the most complete of any room on the floor. He reaches behind the desk, opens it and hands me a backpack. The backpack looks identical to the one I used to own, but it's not.

I know because either Chase and Noah took it or it went up in flames with the cabin. Damon told me he did a thorough search of the cabin, looking for any information before setting it aflame. My computer was so old there's no way to detect where it is and my phone wasn't exactly new either. I know for a fact they can't break into either because I put up the necessary firewalls and protections after the first time my phone was stolen when Grayson was arrested. I'm honestly more pissed off that my personal files were taken, along with my identification.

"You will stay at the home I am paying for," he orders. "There is a burner phone in the bag that only has my number on it. I will contact you on Monday with more information about drop off."

"I won't do the drop off with one of your goons. If you want me to do this and help you, I'll deal with you and no one else."

"I would not have it any other way," he replies.

My eyes narrow in skepticism. "And I'll get the key to the safety deposit box."

"As promised."

I take the backpack out of his hands. "Final question."

He nods, prompting me to continue.

"You want me to help you gain traction in Mystic Falls, so what am I supposed to say, please shop at Domenico Moretti's one stop drug shop? Location: my locker. Hours: 7:30-2:30? Having one person sell isn't going to help, you're not the only person who sells in Mystic Falls."

"Look in the bag."

I do just that. Each small cellophane bag has a black stamp of an 'x' and a 'p' behind it. "The Chi Rho symbol?"

Dom raises his eyebrows. "Smart girl," he compliments. "Domenico is derived from the Latin word Dominicus, which means lord."

"Chi Rho is XP in Greek, which is the shortened version of Christos," I add.

"The lord and savior."

"So you're saying your God."

He chuckles. "Maybe."

I put the baggie back in the backpack and zip it up. Dom leads me to a stairwell on the opposite end of the floor, away from the elevators. It must be a fire exit. "You tell people that it is a special blend called Chirow. We are the only people in America with this high quality of a product. Once it is out on the streets, people will know."

"So happy that I get to be part of this new venture," I say, dripping with sarcasm.

"I will write you a stellar recommendation to business school."

I take off the helmet and lay it on the floor. "I'll pass."

I open the door to the stairwell and by the looks of it, Dom isn't following. "Oh, Elena."

He's is the guy that broke into my home in the early hours of the morning and threatened my life, so I shouldn't be surprised when his parting words are, "I will not hesitate to kill you, I do not care who your parents are."

I'm convinced he thinks he's telling me the truth. "Noted," I say, before running down the stairs.

By the time I'm back in Damon's car, I toss the drugs in the front seat and take a moment to breathe. This turned out better than expected. Damon's protected and I'll be able to get the information Grayson left me. The drugs, I'll figure out. I already have a reputation as a drug dealer thanks to Grayson, but I have to figure out a way to do this without exposing myself.

I check my phone and sure enough, Damon has blown it up. Dozens of text messages from him telling me to call him. I ignore my first instinct, which is to ignore his calls and decide to call him instead.

The phone barely rings before he picks it up. "Are you okay?"

I ditched the bodyguards he hired, stole his car, wearing the clothes he bought me, holding the phone he bought me and his first question is to ask if I'm okay. I feel like such shit, I almost start crying- also there's a lot of adrenalin and emotions pumping through me.

"Elena? Please, God, tell me you're okay."

I take a deep breath. "I'm fine, but I need to talk to you."

"I'll come to you."

Oh, God. "It's not Santiago or Malohi's fault I left," I explain, the guilt eating at my insides.

"I know that," Damon says like I'm acting foolish. "I told them you'd try to make a break for it, I'm more surprised it didn't happen earlier."

That's good. I didn't get two of the nicest people I've ever met fired.

"Are you still sitting in the Camaro?"

My eyes dart around where I'm parked. I see a fast-food restaurant, a coffee shop, and pedestrians, but no Damon. "Yes, how did you know that?"

"There's a tracker embedded in your phone and one in the Camaro. Neither has moved from that spot. Why do you think I left the Camaro at the mansion?"

"How did you know I'd leave?"

"You were acting weird this morning. Santiago and Malohi are sitting in the Escalade across the street in the parking lot of a burger joint."

I tilt my head and see them sitting in the front seat. Mal is eating a burger. I wave. They do not wave back. They're pissed. "How much of a head start did I get?"

"Twenty minutes, you left in the middle of my presentation in government, otherwise I would've known the moment you left the property," he remarks. "So, are you really okay?"

On one hand, tracking my phone is a complete invasion of privacy, on the other, I did steal his car and he did buy me this phone. And the last time I did this, I lost fourteen hours of my memory…among other things.

"Yeah, I mean, you're not going to like what I have to say."

"But you're telling me about it, which is progress," he pauses like he's reading something. "You're being watched. Drive three blocks north and two blocks east. Park in the Jiffy Lube parking lot. Santiago and Malohi will pick up the Camaro."

I gasp. "I'm the only one that's driven your Camaro besides you. I can't believe you're letting someone else drive it."

"I never let you, you stole it."

Oh, yeah. I start the car with a touch of a couple wires I pulled beneath the steering wheel and pull out of my spot.

"Plus now that you drove it to Falls City and parked it close to the building you just entered, it's marked," he adds. I put the cell on speaker and place it in the cupholder.

"I parked three blocks away; I'm not an amateur."

"You were distracted when you left. You walked directly to the car."

"Uncle John would be so disappointed in me," I mutter, turning right.

I'm silent while I drive until I find the Jiffy Lube parking lot.

Damon must see my location, because he says, "Walk inside, bypass the front desk. You'll see another door that leads to the garage where they change oil. Walk past it and you'll see the Maserati."

I end the phone call, grab the backpack Dom gave me and casually walk into Jiffy Lube. No one is at the front desk- probably checking on one of the cars in the garage, so I'm able to walk through the back without a problem. When I see Damon's car, I run and get into the front seat. He barely waits for me to close the door before he says, "Duck," and he speeds out of the lot and in the opposite direction of Dom's offices. I'm crouched low beneath the window for a few minutes before Damon says that I can sit up.

"Domenico isn't after me," I explain.

"He wants to know where you're at," Damon responds. "I don't want that, do you?" I shake my head in reply. "Good. Put your seatbelt on."

He's in a mood.

I put the seatbelt on and sit quietly while he drives. He doesn't even have the radio on, just concentrating on the road with his eyes flashing in the rearview mirror every few seconds. After twenty minutes of driving, he pulls into a mall parking garage. He doesn't take the first available spot, instead, he drives to the top floor and turns off the ignition. "Are you going to sit there and pout or are you going to tell me what you were up to this morning?"

I ignore him. He was the one acting like a moody teenager. "Why are we in a mall parking lot?"

"Don't want to go directly home, thought we'd hang out here for a couple of hours."

I unbuckle the seatbelt and turn slightly so I can face Damon. "I knew if I missed the drop off on Monday, Domenico Moretti would be after me and I'd never been able to leave the mansion without fear of getting picked up, so I went to him."

"Santiago and Malohi are assigned to protect you for a reason."

"It doesn't matter. Dom is smart; I wouldn't be surprised if he was able to pull me from school."

"I would've been there at school with you," he argues.

"Damon, you're not a powerful mob boss and Domenico won't hurt me."

"What makes you think that?"

I take a deep breath and explain my guess that Miranda sold information about me to Domenico and that he knows who I am. Damon curses but asks me to start from the beginning- the beginning beginning. So I explain how I left the pool house and how I got in to see Domenico. I relay the information I learned about my birth parents, and the security box key, and then I tell him about the drugs. Damon offers to just buy them, but when I explain what Dom is trying to and why he's using me, Damon doesn't seem convinced.

"Why you? He could use anyone to get his product into Mystic Falls," Damon argues.

"He has something bigger planned," I tell him. "I know that. He's killing two birds with one stone- I get his product into Mystic Falls and he gets to control me until he needs me for whatever is coming and I'm stuck. If I go to the Giovanni's, they sell me off into marriage. Domenico has the resources to find me if I run and he has government agents in his pocket. If I sell for him, at least I can get information I need and I can buy myself time to figure it out."

"You could just stay at the mansion with Santi and Mal," Damon suggests, but I don't think he's serious.

"Another prison," I mutter. Damon takes my hand in his and squeezes. "I have an idea, though."

He moves his chair back. "I'm not ready to hear it, yet," he tugs me over the consul so I'm straddling his lap, facing him. His fingers brush a lock of hair from my eyes and tucks it behind my ear, his eyes lazily wandering my face until I have his full attention. "Okay, now tell me."

"Are you still having your party tonight at the warehouse?"

He nods, running his hands down my spine and pulling me closer.

"Are you still taking Ainsley?"

Damon scowls, but continues ministrations, running his knuckles in long lines down my spine.

I'll take that as a yes.

"I can easily unload the product at your party."

His hands pause at my hips and dip into my hoodie underneath my tank. "You're not going to my party."

I lean in closer and rest my hands on his broad, muscular shoulders. "I know I'm not."

Damon tilts his head to the side, his eyes land on my lips. "Then what's your plan?"

"To go as someone else."

Damon hums deeply while his fingers score the bare skin of my back. "Then it's a good thing we're at the mall."

A moan escapes my lips, damn that feels good. "Why are you being so understanding?"

"Because I trust you."

Damon's continued massage has me rocking my hips back and forth in small circles. My head drops and rests on his forehead. "What are you doing to me?"

It's a whisper and a questioning plea. I didn't expect this interaction to go this way at all. I expected him to yell at me and drop me off on the side of the road.

Damon's lips hover over mine, tickling the bow of my lips. "Loving you."

My lips meet his the rest of the way, trying to communicate words I don't dare speak. A flush of heat crawls up my chest to my cheeks as his lips mark me- scoring my jaw, my neck, both cheeks, my forehead, and then my lips. His eyes smolder when they look at me and it takes my breath away. So much is said with that look and I didn't understand what I did to deserve it. He should hate me and yet, his eyes say the opposite. His mouth lands on mine again, claiming me exactly how I want. I feel…cherished and I don't understand what to make of it.

Damon helps me strip off the hoodie and lays it on the passenger seat. He's lazy sitting there, with his back against the seat while his hands memorize my body, slowly grazing up my arms, my shoulders, dancing along my neck, and then down my back.

His hand tugs on my ponytail, taking out the elastic. "I want to see you like this," he says, fanning my long hair over my breasts. "At the end of the day, in English, you take your hair down when your elastic gives you a headache. You tie it around your wrist," Damon takes the elastic and puts it on my wrist. "And your hair fans out as you lean over your notebook, taking notes or doodling those flowers with vines going up the columns of the pages. And I just want to…." His fingers dance on my neck and he pulls me to him again. We're kissing, lazily like we have all the time in the world. His tongue slips in my mouth and slides against mine. He swallows my moans, deepening our kiss until we're both so needy, his hands have pushed my tank up.

My hand reaches for his hard length, rubbing him through his jeans. "I want to feel you."

Damon's head falls back and he groans and it is the sexiest sound I've ever heard. Prompted, I unbutton the silver clasp of his jeans. With my left hand, I caress the back of his neck, while my right slips beneath his jeans. "You go commando?"

Another groan, his lips meet mine and from my position above him, I run my hand along his white-hot length and graze the tip. Another groan, he likes that. With thighs spread, I rock with the motion of my pumping.

"You like thinking people are watching, don't you?" Damon whispers in my ear, his hand unbuttoning my own jeans. "You like people knowing there's more to you than cross country running valedictorian."

My head falls against his forehead. "You go commando?" He says back to me.

"You.." I gasp when his deft fingers run down my slit. He swallows my gasp with his lips, once again on mine, devouring me while I run my hand up and down his thick cock and one of his pushes my jeans down slightly while the other swirls around my clit. "…didn't," another gasp as one of his fingers enters me. "…buy me any."

"That was convenient of me."

My lips are on his neck while I continue to lazily pump his cock. "Good thing we're at the mall."

"I'm going to come," Damon warns.

I stop and press a button on the side of the seat to move it back further. I duck down and wrap my lips around his length. I've never done this before, so I don't know if I'm doing it right but by the sounds of his groans, I know I'm not doing it wrong. I lick the underside of his cock and then wrap my lips back around his length. Damon's hands run through my hair encouragingly. I feel him tighten and then come shoots down my throat. It's not as unpleasant as I thought, and I think I actually enjoy the power I had over him in that moment.

Damon lifts me up. "Come here," he mutters, kissing my lips, tasting himself on me. His hands go back to my slit. It doesn't take much to set me off as his index finger swirls around my clit and then presses slightly. "Fuck," I gasp, feeling every fiber of my being come undone. I lean towards him to increase the pressure. "More," I mutter.

Damon inserts two fingers in me while his thumb pressed against my clit. "Ride my hand, baby."

I rock my hips in circular motions until I come with a scream. Damon takes his hand out and licks his fingers. I grab his hand and run my mouth along his index finger much like I did his cock moments before. "Christ," he groans. I don't mind the taste of myself on him- I think part of me might love it.

I kiss his lips once more, feeding him my tongue. Both of our shirts are partially off as we continue to ride out our orgasms. When my heart rate has slowed, I chastely kiss his lips and slide off of him back in the passenger seat. Damon tucks his member back in his jeans while I pull my shirt down and button my own jeans. I look around the parking lot, there aren't many cars since we're on the top floor, but still.

"Are you ready to become someone else?" He asks, wearing a smirk that makes me want to take his jeans off and do bad things.

I wiggle my eyebrows. "Hell, yeah."