Author's note: This was written for Klaroline Bingo klaroline-events. Prompt: Best friend's brother. Bill Forbes died and the family fortune was lost. Now Caroline is desperate to keep her father's charity afloat — without revealing her misfortune to Klaus, her childhood nemesis.
Warning: Some angst.
"I often think how unfairly life's good fortune is sometimes distributed."
― Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace
The crystal goblet was cool to the touch, holding the perfectly chilled Dom Pérignon rosé. And yet it scalded Caroline's fingers the longer she held it. Her family once owned goblets like these. Until a month ago, they used to own a lot of things. Her smile was little more than a thin blade as she politely nodded at Carol Lockwood who gleefully detailed the latest rumors about the contentious Gilbert divorce. With that vicious old gossip, she knew better than to appear as anything less than perfectly content in front of her. The last thing she needed was to have a breakdown about her father's death in front of Mystic Falls' elite. Or the cruel aftermath.
She murmured a few well-placed noises at Carol's mindless recount of Miranda getting caught with Matt Donovan, a decades-younger bartender, and then allowed her gaze to sweep the grand ballroom once more. The charity auction's glittering gold banners were crooked and if Rebekah was here, she'd scream bloody murder that polyester fabric had crossed the threshold of her ancestral manor. She loved her best friend, but her snobby side was almost as ugly as that dolphin tattoo she got on her ass cheek during that drunken weekend in Antigua.
Carol suddenly squeezed her hand, cooing insincerely, "Please accept my condolences for your father's passing. To lose him so unexpectedly must have been just dreadful."
Yes, dreadful. Especially the part where she and her mother learned that he'd fallen victim to a string of bad investments and now the Forbes' fortune was almost gone. Caroline struggled to keep her face impassive, thinking back to how she'd had to comfort her mother just that morning when she broke down in hysterical sobs as they scoured meager apartments two towns over. They both knew eventually the truth would come out, and ferocious harpies like Carol would relish the news, but her mother insisted they keep up the pretense a bit longer. Especially since they were scrambling to keep Bill's charity afloat and preserve his legacy.
"Almost as dreadful as the sight of a grown man drunkenly chatting up a dimwitted bird younger than his granddaughter," an accented voice dryly interjected, causing Carol's forehead to crease angrily, or at least as much as the Botox would allow. Muttering a terse goodbye, she excused herself, which normally would've made Caroline sigh with relief, but now she was stuck with her childhood nemesis.
She'd grown up with Klaus; affluent families like the Mikaelsons and Forbes tended to travel in the same social circles — especially in small towns like Mystic Falls. But while she and Rebekah instantly bonded to form a lasting friendship, her best friend's brother was another matter. Blessed with a chiseled jawline and piercing intellect, add in the prestigious Mikaelson name and enviable fortune, and Klaus was one of the town's most eligible bachelors. And a gigantic asshat.
"I hope you aren't expecting a thank you," she coolly told him, "The day I can't handle Botoxed bitches like Carol Lockwood is the day I skinny dip in mashed potatoes."
Gray eyes twinkling, he leaned in close as he hummed, "Now that I would pay to see, sweetheart. While I don't share your odd affinity for mashed potatoes, I certainly can see the appeal now."
"I used to love them until you dunked my head in the serving bowl at Thanksgiving."
Klaus let out a long-suffering sigh as they settled into one of their well-worn arguments. "We were children."
"You chipped my tooth," Caroline hissed, snagging another champagne flute from a waiter.
He impishly clinked their crystal rims as he toasted her. "But what an enchanting smile you have now — as I've told you on countless occasions."
"Usually when you have several desperate groupies hanging off your arm," she scoffed, hating how she secretly craved their bickering. Even though he'd always been a cocky asshole, arguing with him somehow felt like home. With all of the painful drama going on in her life, it was nice to indulge in something familiar.
She rolled her eyes as she overheard Tyler Lockwood get rejected by one of the servers when he told her his yacht had a 'bitchin' view of the sunset'. For fuck's sake, he'd been using that same bullshit line since they were in high school. She felt an instant connection with the girl and decided maybe that much black eyeliner could be attractive in its own way.
"Yes, well, surely you noticed I'm unaccompanied tonight," he ventured, eyes darting anywhere but at her as though he'd suddenly grown shy. "I thought Rebekah would've mentioned it..." he trailed off awkwardly.
"She flew out last night. Alexander surprised her with a trip to Romania to hunt wild boar."
He raised an eyebrow. "My sister is a vegan."
"She thinks she's in love," Caroline retorted, hating her bittersweet tone.
Flashing a dimpled smirk, he mocked, "Rebekah falls in love every other week. It's the only time she's punctual." He cocked his head, studying her carefully. She wasn't sure what he saw, but his expression turned serious as he added, "Not like you, though. You're cautious. Meticulous. Examining every possible outcome from each angle before you take a step."
For once, she was struck speechless. Normally, interactions with her best friend's brother were a bizarre mix of boisterous banter with thinly veiled hostility. This was new. She bought herself some time to process by taking a sip of the overpriced champagne; however, the familiar Dom tasted like ash. They used to serve it at every family celebration.
"Let's get out of here," Klaus said unexpectedly, gray eyes blazing with a ferocity that Caroline found intensely appealing. She blamed the champagne. "I'm thinking San Sebastián. Remember that little place overlooking the Bay? Akelaŕe, I think?"
A little half-smile touched her lips as she recalled how Rebekah's brothers had tracked them down at the exclusive boutique hotel and convinced them to extend their stay another two weeks. In between the spectacular beaches and non-stop shopping in the local markets, they gorged themselves on Iberico carpaccio, delicate herbed soufflés and gallons of fruity txakoli and hearty crianza wines.
She also recalled the way Klaus' curls had darkened when he emerged from swimming in the sparkling bay, water droplets trailing down his firm chest. It was a memory she reluctantly carried with her, unsure if the spark she felt when they teased each other could be something more.
He must've taken her silence as a rejection, because he quickly amended his offer with, "It doesn't have to be a date; it could just be a friendly jaunt and you could plan our next adventure, sweetheart." Right. She couldn't afford to keep up with Klaus. Not now that they were from two different worlds. Caroline didn't know what the future held for her, but she didn't belong here anymore. And she couldn't bear the thought of seeing the pity in his eyes once he learned the truth. "I can't," she softly told him, unable to mask her pained smile as she made her way toward the Mikaelsons' lavish south garden where the charity auction was set to begin.
She chose a seat near the back, giving Elena and the Salvatores a wide berth when she caught part of a tiresome conversation about racing and how in an idiotic fit of one-upmanship, the brothers had purchased a pair of McLaren F1s to try out on the track that weekend. She also begrudgingly admired Elena's bravery in showing her face tonight, knowing everyone would be gossiping about her parents' ugly divorce. Of course, the Salvatores formed a protective cocoon around her all night, so it's not as though Elena was truly alone.
No one would ever protect Caroline like that. Straightening her spine, she refused to give into self-pity, and instead let her gaze slide appreciatively over the impressive collections to be auctioned. Several charities had been selected by the Founders' committee to benefit from the proceeds, and it was shaping up to be one of the most successful auctions in the town's history. There was a Miró, several Richters, plus a giant Jackson Pollock the Mikaelsons were donating from their extensive collection. Sparkling Steuben Glassware, and even antique Baccarat with diamond stoppers rounded out the offerings, but it was the vintage Bordeaux that kept her attention.
It had been her father's favorite bottle, purchased from the exclusive Travelers Vineyard the year she was born. It had held a place of honor in their wine cellar, and she'd burst into tears at least twice when she'd dusted it off for the auction. But she and her mother had agreed that Bill would've wanted them to keep the boys' home going as long as possible. It was a cause that he was passionate about because his grandfather spent much of his youth in one, claiming it had saved his life.
The auctioneer held up the bottle, announcing to the crowd, "A precious vintage priced at just under $30,000. All proceeds will benefit Safe House, a residential boarding facility for at-risk youth. We'll start the bidding at $35,000."
Multiple paddles were raised, and she anxiously leaned forward, taken aback when Klaus bid an aggressive $40,000. He was sitting several rows off to the side, and gazed at her with an unreadable expression.
A few more bids were called, and Caroline bit her lip, excited that the money could fund the facility even longer than she and her mother had planned. "$100,000," Klaus confidently shouted, flashing a dimpled smirk at the flurry of gasps around him.
She felt her heart thud in her chest as the auctioneer closed out the bidding. Klaus paid more than three times what that bottle was worth. Did he know it was her father's? Mild panic flitted through her mind as Caroline questioned whether Klaus somehow knew about her family's financial troubles. Was he secretly trying to help her? Or, maybe he just understood the importance of supporting charities?
It didn't matter, she decided. Selfless generosity should be acknowledged and she was tired of fighting her growing feelings. She was ready to take that step. In a swish of black silk, her stride was decisive as she moved into his path. Her breath caught as she admired the perfect hang of his Tom Ford tuxedo. Her smile was hesitant even as she struggled to keep her tone nonchalant. "That was quite the display." She watched his fingers toy with the old-fashioned waxed cork of the bottle, and she wondered if he'd like to hear how her father had taught her to make wax seals when she was little. Maybe on the flight to San Sebastián?
"It seems my plan to gain your attention worked," Klaus told her with a seductive grin, flashing his dimples as her cheeks warmed. "You seemed quite fixated on this bottle, and I decided to raise the stakes just to see that lovely flush when you're especially vexed with me."
She nervously tucked a stray curl behind her ear, pleased that he'd been so attuned to her to notice the wine's importance. He was someone she could confide in. Finally.
Klaus lightly wiggled the bottle in his grip, sighing dramatically as he said, "Elijah will have my head when he finds out I've purchased something so tawdry for our collection. These charity events are quite clever to wait until attendees are properly smashed so they're more inclined to open their pocketbooks."
Caroline felt her heart sink at his words. "What? I don't..."
"No matter," Klaus smoothly continued, "I'll just toss the bottle in some dusty corner of the wine cellar and my dullard brother will be none the wiser."
It was a punch to the gut, but she was proud of the way her venomous smile didn't falter. This wasn't her world anymore. And she'd never been more grateful to be reminded of that. "That bottle belonged to my father. He lost our fortune and we needed the money to keep his charity from going under. So, thank you for your selfless donation."
Caroline was certain his chagrined expression would become one of her favorite memories. As she stormed off, she hissed over her shoulder, "And I hope you choke on your tawdry vintage!"
