Author's note: Before I start posting the final chapters of part 1, I'd like to add that Damon and Elena are teenagers. When I started my fic, it was never my intention to write a fluffy love story between two high school kids. I wanted to be as realistic about their age as I could. Obviously, I took creative liberties where the plot is concerned and in my head, Damon very much looks like season two Damon, not an eighteen-year-old kid. Elena is still clever and compassionate Elena from the show, mixed with no humanity Elena because of the things she's gone through. This being said...their journey is far from over.

Chapter 29

Elena

I'm not staying in the hotel for another hour in the hope that Damon will apologize. Nope. I am not. I'm walking to the hotel restaurant so I can eat breakfast and use the wifi to buy a plane ticket. Not because I'm hoping Damon will come to his senses.

There's a fifteen minute wait, so I put my name in and sit on one of the chairs set up outside of where the hostess stands taking reservations while seating customers.

I can't help but look at the elevators I came down on every few seconds. Is he just going to stay up there? There's probably a celebrity exit he took in the back, this is his dad's hotel after all. The moment in the hotel is so reminiscent of the moment he returned from rehab when we were fifteen…well, I guess when he was fifteen. I must've been fourteen at the time. Jeremy had just died and Damon came home from rehab. I tried to approach him at the mansion, but he wouldn't answer. The next day at school, I was waiting by his locker. Before everything happened, it wasn't unusual for me to be at his locker or meet him at lunch, but he looked at me like I was scum. I tried apologizing, tried explaining what happened but he cut me off. He wouldn't even hear it. Just as people were getting ready for homeroom, he called me trash and said that if he knew I was the daughter of drug traffickers, he never would've befriended me in the third grade. Then he slammed his locker shut and it was open season on Elena Gilbert. That's when it started, the moment he shut me out and he's doing it again.

The hostess calls my name and I follow her into the crowded restaurant, full of customers eating and talking over breakfast. I don't miss the stares I get from patrons as the hostess shows me to a table next to a window facing the street. She hands me a menu and tells me my server will be with me. I don't bother looking at it, but get out my computer and start searching for flights out of West Palm Beach.

"Elena Gilbert?"

I look up and a guy wearing a tight black shirt and bike shorts. A messenger bag is slung across his shoulder and he's wearing a bike helmet.

"Yeah?"

He reaches into his messenger bag and hands me a manilla envelope. I sign his clipboard and he leaves. Before I can open the envelope, a server comes by and takes my order. Just a bowl of fruit and coffee. I don't miss the stare he gives me like he's seen me naked. "Can I say," he says conspiratorially. "I am a huge fan."

I respond in the only way I knew how. "Fan of what?"

He looks as though he doubts himself for a moment. He can't say where he knows me because we're in a restaurant that caters to guests at the hotel, including families. "I'll be back with your coffee."

"Good answer," I reply.

When he's gone, I open the envelope and dump the contents on the table. My phone. I turn it on and there's a message.

Marco Reyes: Wedged between pipes underneath the sink. Very clever.

I can't help but chuckle. At the bar, when I excused myself to go to the bathroom, I made sure no one was in the bathroom before hiding half of the drugs. I knew if he took me upstairs, I'd be stuck but forcing him to go back to the bar so I could show him where the drugs were put me back on the first floor and gave me an out. It worked, sort of. The fire alarm went off before I could show him where the rest of the drugs were.

Me: Thanks for returning my phone.

His response is almost immediate.

Marco Reyes: You left before I could say goodbye.

I flip the phone over, unsure of how to respond. I close my eyes and heave a big sigh. I need to make a list of things to do. Talk to Giuseppe. Talk to Domenico. Yell at Domenico. Do a week's worth of homework. Celebrate Thanksgiving…alone.

The server returns with a bowl of mixed berries and a French press with a porcelain mug, cream, and sugar. When he leaves, I pick at the berries while searching for flights. A notification sound goes off on my phone. I flip it over. It's another text message from Marco.

Marco Reyes: I look forward to your eighteenth birthday, Viviana.

How much did Domenico tell him?

Me: It is hopeful that you think I'll make it to my eighteenth birthday.

His answer is almost immediate.

Marco Reyes: I will make sure of it.

Me: What's that supposed to mean?

Three dots…

Marco Reyes: I always protect my investments.

"You're cheeks are all flushed." A man wearing a football jersey and cargo shorts that are way too long for his frame approaches my table.

His hands fidget and his pale skin turns red at my simple observation. The light bounces off his large forehead and makes his red hair seem even more vibrant. "Can I help you?"

He slides a DVD in front of me. The cover has a picture of me jumping on the cabin bed with my hand strategically blocking a view of my breasts. Starr Industries Presents: Friday Night Delights. Staring Elena Gilbert

Great.

Effing great.
"Can you sign this?" He asks. "I'm a big fan. When are you coming out with your next video?"

I don't bother touching the DVD case, cause gross. I didn't even know they made DVD's anymore. "You have ten seconds to remove this case from my sight before I tell your…" I gaze at the wedding ring on his finger and see a woman impatiently waiting at a table alone, staring at us. "Wife over there what you like to do in your spare time."

"Oh, she knows. We watch it together. Last night, I put on my high school football helmet and we reenacted it," he offers, like I'm supposed to be flattered.

I look around the restaurant. People are looking at us and listening in. It is beyond humiliating and I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say to get him to go away. "Please leave," I whisper. "That's not me, please leave."

Not liking my curt tone, he takes the DVD case back. "Fine, be that way."

Instead of buying a plane ticket like I'm supposed to, I look up Axel Pace and Starr Industries. My phone pings and I look at it out of habit. My first thought is one of disappointment. It's not from Damon.

Marco Reyes: Do you want me to get rid of that guy?

My eyes glance around the restaurant. I don't see anyone watching.

I quickly text a reply.

Me: Took care of it.

I'm tempted to ask him to get rid of the video but asking him for help means I owe him something in return. Something nags at me, a thought that won't get out of my head.

Me: Surprised you'd want me after that video.

There, I said it.

The cell rings almost immediately after I sent the text. I don't miss the ringtone he must've put on. Will Smith's Miami. I roll my eyes. "Miami is nice, I already admitted that last night," I say into the phone by way of greeting.

I hear his deep, husky chuckle at the other end. "You are proving my point without me even speaking. I enjoyed our conversation last night and I look forward to many more. You are not the girl in that video. All that video is, is documentation of abuse."

"You claim to be all-powerful, so can you get it taken down?"

I hear a heavy sigh at the other end of the phone. "Sadly, I cannot. However, the person who is responsible will pay greatly."

His words startle me.

"Did you kill Noah Scott?"

"Who?"

His genuine curiosity takes away my doubt. Last night, he wanted to know who was involved in the video and I wouldn't tell him because I was actually worried about Noah, Chase, and Frederick. I want them to pay, but I don't want them dead, as I said earlier to Damon.

"Never mind."

"I called because I want you to know something," he pauses, letting his words sink in. "My organization is bigger than both the Giovanni and Russo organizations combined. This is because they waste time and resources battling wars between family organizations. I made an exception because I felt a connection with you last night. You are under my protection and soon, everyone will know it."

It's like everything is on mute except for his voice. His sure, confident voice.

"You protected me last night," he adds. "I will not forget it."

He's talking about the moment Damon was going to kill him. What he, nor Damon, seem to understand is that if Damon shot at Marco with five of his men surrounding him, Damon would've died and I would've been taken. If Marco shot at Damon, Damon would've died and I would've been taken. The only thing for me to do was to put myself between the line of fire. Is this how Damon saw what was going on?

"You don't own me," I mutter into the phone.

"Four powerful organizations are proving otherwise."

He's right. Of all the options, he's the best and he knows it. "And Damon Salvatore?"

"He's free to live his life as long as he doesn't interfere."

Twenty-four hours ago, I would've said that was impossible, but right now I think he'll gladly leave me alone. "What happens next?"

"Things have changed. When you are done eating breakfast, I have a driver out front who will take you back to Mystic Falls. I have an apartment ready for you, a driver, and security detail. Run any major decisions by me and we'll talk about it," he offers. There's a pause, then he adds. "Damon Salvatore no longer has anything to do with your life. If you want to protect him, you need to keep your distance from him."

"Shouldn't be a problem," I say, honestly.

There's a long pause as if he's debating what to say next. Then, in a rush of words. "You are beautiful, Viviana. You are clever, strong, resilient, and compassionate. It is an honor to take care of you."

I push the uneaten fruit away from me and swallow. "How do you do that?"

"What?"

"Make such remarks with sincerity."

"The Reyes men have never been afraid to speak from the heart. My grandmother taught me El que no arriesga, no gana. If you don't take risks, you cannot win. You, Viviana, are worth the risk."

I bite my lip, not knowing what to say. Instead, I hang up. This is the first time an option has presented itself that makes sure everyone is safe. Domenico was more domineering and abrasive. What with breaking into my apartment and manipulating himself into my family's life. Reyes wants me to go to school and has a family that he loves. It is peculiar that he can't get rid of the video. I look back at my computer to see the results of my search. I click on a link for the company page.

I don't see anything except that Axel Pace is a greasy douchebag. Then something catches my eye. Under the search images tab, I see a picture of who I've come to know is Axel Pace, standing next to…

Oh, Jesus.

Domenico Moretti.

I don't even hesitate. I don't care that I'm in the middle of a restaurant, surrounded by people getting ready to start their day. I call Domenico. He picks up after the first ring. "My dear, Elena."

"Don't."

"Do not what?"

"You know."

"Obviously, not."

"Am I supposed to wear the big ass diamond ring or deliver it to you?"

Pause.

"Oh, that."

"Are you proud of yourself?

"Quite."

"You arranged my marriage, just like Isabella was promised to you. You were blamed for my death and because of that, your family and business were slaughtered. You read the letters. I was a child when all of this happened. So why am I reaping the consequences?"

"Because the Giovanni family needs to pay, and killing you isn't enough."

"So you're using me to humiliate them," I conclude. "Selling me off to the cartels, when you know the mafia and cartels don't get along. Selling my sex tape to your friend at Starr Industries. Ruining the Gilbert family reputation and then killing my father. Making me deal with a new drug for you. Infiltrating my high school and getting my principal on board with whatever you have planned. Where does it end, Dom?"

"Your very existence ruined my life," he says, not angry but like it's a fact. "They killed my twelve-year-old little sister because they thought I killed you. My family. My businesses were all destroyed."

"I was a kid. I had nothing to do with that."

"And yet, you had everything to do with it."

"So now, what? I exchanged your drugs for the ring. I was successful in what you asked of me."

"You did, but our journey is not over."

What does he mean by that? I am so sick of these evasive undertones.

"I want the original documents, not just the scanned copies."

"You will have to earn them, so I will contact you shortly on what you need to do."

"You know what I've been through, why are you doing this to me?" My question is one of desperation. "Selling my rape is low, even for you."

"What do you think they did to my sister before they killed her?"
A foreign gasp emits from my throat. I have no words.

"This is who your family is, Viviana Elena Giovanni. They have no morals, so in order to avenge my family, I must have none either. I did not want to marry Isabella either, but I would have for my family and I would have treated her well. The moment I started building capital, I came to Mystic Falls and set my plan in motion. Your father does a good job of detailing my plans in his letters. I must admit, I enjoyed you. You are unlike your adopted parents. We will see each other again, Viviana Giovanni."

"How did you know about the video?" I ask before he can hang up.

"I did not," he replies honestly. "I just took advantage of an opportunity."

"Axel Pace is a friend; he told you," I conclude. "I'm underage in the video, you know that."

"But in order to fight that, you have to disclose your real name and age— which would lead to questions because you are technically dead and I happen to hold the documents that prove you were ever alive."

Dammit.

"When I read about what happened to your family, my heart broke," I pause, making sure what I'm saying sinks in. I mean every word. "I don't remember my mom, my real mom and I don't remember my biological father. However, every day I wake up, I live with the consequences of their actions and subsequently, my adoptive parent's actions. You and I have a lot in common, Domenico. The difference is, I am trying to let go and move on and you continually pull me back. You've watched me, you know what I've dealt with and you watched the worst of it and bought it to sell to the masses. But I can forgive you. I can let it go and move on. Can you?"

I'm shocked when he doesn't hang up right away. "Until we meet again, Miss Gilbert."

He hangs up, but in that brief pause, so much was said.

I close the laptop and put it back in my backpack and take out cash to place in the billfold. I take a swift glance at the restaurant before slinging my backpack over my shoulder and hold my tote bag in the other hand.

Damon didn't show. We usually fight, blow up at each other but one of us usually comes around. I guess I'm in denial about this fight being different from the others.

An older gentleman in a black suit, wearing dark sunglasses walks into the restaurant. When I say older gentleman, I don't mean frail and wheezy. This guy is older and carries himself as a gentleman would but one look at him would tell anyone not to mess with him. He stands with perfect posture like he both owns the place and could protect the establishment from an incoming zombie invasion. He has silver hair that's parted in a style reminiscent of another time. A time when people dressed up for plane rides and smoking was as common as drinking coffee. His attention zeros in on me and he makes his way toward me in perfectly even strides. "Ms. Giovanni, my name is Raymond Winters. I am here to escort you to Mystic Falls," he says, taking my tote bag and backpack off my shoulder.

"Who sent you?"

"Your betrothed, of course." His voice is clear and confident and he's so quick that I'm forced to follow him.

And…I mean this with absolute sincerity, I cannot help what comes out of my mouth next. "Which one?"

His lip twitches, very very slightly. "Marco Reyes."

Considering I have almost zero dollars in my bank account and the only way for me to add more would be to go to the bank and deposit the heaping amount of cash in my backpack, I follow Winters.

We leave the restaurant amid curious stares, but it doesn't bother Raymond. Might I add, he has yet to take off his sunglasses. I'm willing to bet he has a glass eye. If Damon were here, we'd make it an actual bet that would involve fun consequences.

"Mr. Winters?" I ask, trying to catch up with him. Man, he walks fast.

He stops so abruptly, I almost run into him. "Yes?"

"I need to ask the front desk a question, and then we can be on our way."

He stands like a soldier near the doors, with his arms crossed behind his back while holding my items. I'll take that as an okay.

I walk up to a woman at the front desk who looks like she'd rather be anywhere else. She regards me severely with one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Can I help you?"

I get it. I probably look like a stressed-out mess. Salvatore Hotels are the types of hotels that you dress up to be in. I look down at my checked Vans self-consciously before gazing back at her. "Yes, I was wondering if Damon Salvatore has checked out."

"And you are?" She asks in a bored voice.

Does she realize she asked a very sensitive, yet poignant question? I don't know who I am. I don't know who I am to Damon. I decide to go with the truth.

"I was staying in the Salvatore penthouse."

Her eyes narrow. I reach into my pocket and fumble with like four IDs, I kid you not. When I find my actual one, I hand it to her. "I'm Elena Gilbert, you can check."

And she does. When she sees that I was in fact one of his guests, her attitude changes quite a bit. "I'm sorry about that, Miss Gilbert. Mr. Salvatore checked out of his room an hour ago when the helicopter arrived to take him to the airport."

Sometimes I forget that he's a billionaire because he usually doesn't like to use his dad's connections, no matter how much I make fun of him for it.

"Thanks," I reply, before doing the walk of shame back to Raymond. He left me here, not knowing how I'd get back. Message received, Damon. He lied about the video. He left me alone last night and for most of this morning and when I see him, he gives me the cold shoulder. We argue and I leave and he lets me go.

By the time I make it back to Raymond, he guides me to a limo. I poke my head inside before getting in. No one else is there, but it's large and comfortable. "We're taking this to the airport?"

"I'm driving you back to Mystic Falls, Miss Giovanni. Mr. Reyes said that you needed time to finish your homework."

The duffle bag Dom had with all my work in it is currently with the shot-up Rav4. "I don't have…"

"Everything you need is in the car. Please let me know if you need anything else," he explains.

I thank him before entering the limo. He hands me my tote bag and backpack before shutting the door and walking around to the driver's side. The limo is comfortable and complete with bottled water and beverages in the fridge and snacks in a cabinet beside the mini-fridge. There's a flatscreen television with Netflix and various streaming accounts available. There's also a place for me to sleep and a pull-out desk for me to work at. I don't want to admit it, but this is incredibly thoughtful. If Marco simply flew me back, I wouldn't have gotten my work done, and with a twelve-hour drive ahead of us, I'll be able to get most of it done and deal with the numerous emails I have in my school account.

I sit in the comfortable leather couch and layout all my items, deciding to start on math first. It feels good to be doing school work, primarily because I'm distracted from the fact that none of this will matter in the long run.

Damon

"Santiago, I need you to go to the liquor store on Main and get more Pappy Van Winkles," I order, my speech only slightly slurred.

"Mr. Salvatore, don't you think you should stop for today? Sleep it off?"
"I won't be able to sleep," I scoff, laying sideways on the couch in the boarding house living room. "I wasn't last night and I won't be able to tonight."

"Have you seen the news?"

"No, why?" My feet drop to the floor and I sit upright.

Santiago takes the television remote from a side table and turns on the television. "Local high school football player, Chase Worthington, pronounced dead after being involved in a tragic car accident."

I rub my face with the palms of my hands. I'm either really drunk or… "Chase is dead?"

"Fluke car accident," Santiago replies, meaningfully. "His brakes weren't working properly."

"That's definitely interesting," I mutter, thinking. After what Chase did to Elena, I won't miss him but the event does give me pause. "Where is she?"

"Northern Florida," Santiago replies. "Mal said she only left the limo a couple of times to use the restroom. Do you want us to pick her up?"

"No," I mutter. "No one else is in the limo with her?"

"Just her and the driver, who is a former Navy Seals operative, who later on did work for the C.I.A."

"What do you know about the guy?"

"I worked for him," Santiago explains. "He was my commanding officer. He's a good guy, his wife had health problems, which is why I'm sure he started working for the private sector."

At least she's safe.

"Get me the bourbon," I order. "My wallet is on the dresser."

Santiago gives me a look that I don't like. It's both condescending and knowing. He gives a slight jerk of his chin and leaves me alone among empty bottles of liquor laying on the floor.

Elena was at the hotel restaurant, eating breakfast. I watched her get on her computer and I watched her talk to him. She may have been on the phone, but I knew who she was talking to. No matter how much I drink, I can't get the look she gave him the other night out of my mind. She stepped in front of me to save him. Marco Reyes. I know about him, more than Elena probably does. He's a ruthless Latin playboy and Elena's going to marry him.

I didn't realize when I fell in love with her that she was some mafia princess. It's a complication I don't need. I know she can't help who she's related to, but this provides a welcome distraction for her. This whole week, this past month has been a distraction. She can let it go; God knows I've tried to get her to let it go. It's like I said. She should've stayed in the pool house, and stuck by my side at school. When she can't be with me, contact the two highly trained security guards I hired. I should've known. Elena Gilbert likes adventure. She likes a mystery, it's like solving a puzzle. Girl's quick as a whip and can think on her feet in a stressful situation. Not having to think about her future, a good one with her going to college and training for the Olympics, but she doesn't want it. That knowledge hit me like a truck this morning.

I'm not giving up. I just have to pivot.

Giuseppe told me all about the Russo family and the Giovanni family. Giovannis are smart and quick, preferring to keep up appearances and rule with an iron fist. They won't whack you, they'll take everything from you and then let you bleed out. The Russos are brutal. People fear them for good reason, they are the judge, jury, and executioner. Cross one of them and they leave you alive long enough to watch everyone you love die.

Cartels are judged differently. They lack the innate respect mafia families have. Mafia is old school, cartels deal in the twenty-first century and unlike the mafia, cartels have more territory. The mafia needs the cartel but the cartel does not need the mafia. When I saw that Reyes was interested in Elena, I knew it was done. He made the deal of the century with her. It is unheard of to combine both the cartel and the mafia and I have no doubt the Giovanni family will approve of that union. It is an alliance that will profit the entire eastern seaboard and beyond.

The union will also start a war between the Giovanni family and the Russo family and with the Reyes cartel on Giovanni's side, the Giovanni family will finally be able to absorb Russo territory.

I stumble to the liquor case and find vodka in the freezer, I hate vodka but it'll have to do. Maybe vodka's more effective at erasing her from my brain. I won't think about the cute grunt she makes when she wants to kill me or the moans she makes when she comes. I won't think about how soft her body is against mine, or how in her sleep she likes to lay on top of me, with her hand right over my heart. Just thinking about the feel of her thigh against my dick makes me hard.

Vodka clearly isn't working.

I check my phone for the hundredth time in ten minutes. She hasn't called. Hasn't texted. I lob the partially filled glass bottle of Grey Goose across the room. Two thoughts remain.

Who killed Chase?

What is Elena thinking right now?