Thank you for your responses to the first chapter! Glad to see there is some interest :)
Will try to get the chapters up in a timely manner for ya'll!
Enjoy :)
Damon leaned back in his cushioned chair and stared at the bland ceiling.
Was that a small stain on the corner tile there, or just an effect of the shadowy light in his office?
God, it was late.
Had to be, if he was starting to worry about the building's aesthetic structure.
The music behind the office door pounded on in a beat that was nearly in sync with the head currently bobbing up and down on his cock.
Was that curvy blonde still between his legs?
A hooded glance down informed him that she certainly was, and was putting that mouth of hers to use like it was going to pay her rent.
He imagined it had before, though not through any contribution of his own.
Rule of thumb for any business: don't dip into your own pot; be that the booze behind the bar, the drugs you peddled out for distribution, or the working professionals you employed.
No, this particular short fix had been a willing wet hole from the moment she locked eyes on him, and he had been bored enough to take her up on the offer.
Boredom was something that came upon him in heavy waves, lately...but an itch scratched was still an itch scratched.
Too bad the day was catching up to him now, and he was finding it hard to concentrate on anything.
Accept those damn ceiling tiles, apparently.
Fuck, his brain was taking a detour again.
"Does that feel good, baby?" Blondie asked as she stared up at him with bloodshot eyes, "You like that, don't you?"
"Yeah," he told her, tilting his head and gaze back up to the ceiling again, "Sure."
Truthfully, he was surprised he was even still hard, but his body seemed to be desperately trying to stick with the program, despite what was doing in his head.
Damon closed his eyes and tried to drift away from any thought.
A loud solid knock on the door was both a curse and his saving grace.
In a blink, he was out of the chair, pulling up his pants and helping the blonde to her feet.
"Grazie, sweetheart," he told her, with a kiss to her cheek, "But work is calling."
She pouted with a full drop of her lip and tried to grab hold of his waist, "Can't they wait? We were just getting to the fun part."
Another knock, and he was already out of her embrace.
"We can finish this some other time," he lied with ease, and moved to open the door.
His head of security, Alaric Saltzman, stood on the other side, holding a small brown bag.
The man said nothing as Damon's companion gave a final disappointed sigh and dragged feet to exit the room, but his arched brow was hint enough at the comments to come.
"If you value the tongue in your mouth, you won't voice whatever thoughts are running through your mind right now," Damon warned when they were alone, and motioned for Alaric to step into the office.
Ric smirked as the door closed behind them, "She one of yours?"
"You know me better than that," Damon accused, and the man nodded, "Just making sure you weren't taking a leap off the straight edge."
"Hardly," Damon sank back into his chair, "Now what was so damn important you had to interrupt me before I was finished?"
Alaric took the chair opposite the small desk, "Stefan called with news. Our contacts in Turin and Florence have reached out. The shipment will be docking Wednesday, for pick up. Augustine will expect their percentage, then there's the dealing with Maxfield on Thursday...did you want to set the time for that?"
"We'll be ready for the pickup by nine," he replied, "Reach out to Augustine to arrange a meeting for delivery next week, then tell Lorenzo that I'll be accompanying him and his brother personally to deal with Mr. Maxfield. I want a better feel for the man."
Ric nodded, as he reached into his pocket with his free hand for his cell phone, "Will do, Boss. Oh, and speaking of Lorenzo; he and Mason finished up with that little problem. He'll be too busy relearning fine motor skills with his remaining digits to bother Andie or any other woman again. Also..."
He lifted the bag and tossed it onto the desk, "The guy won't be saying anything to anyone, ever."
Damon picked up the brown sack and looked inside, catching a glimpse of something fleshy and discolored.
"Perfect," he smiled coldly.
Not that Andie particularly meant anything special to him, but the principle of the matter still stood.
He wasn't about to let anyone rough up his commodities and get away with it.
Especially bottom feeding succhiacazzi like Bradly Cabbot.
There was simply too much at stake to risk any kind of messiness affecting his business revenues.
He hated messes.
That's why he had brought the Calderone brothers to America with him.
He had known Enzo and Mason for years, and they had proven their loyalty long before his father had died, creating the avenue he needed to expand into the States.
The relationship ran smoothly, with those brothers taking care of the dirty work, like removing abusers' tongues, and Damon ensuring that their pockets and fleshly interests were well supplied in return.
He took care of his men, and they took care of him.
Even Alaric, who had finished sending Damon's message to the brothers, was a long trusted ally, despite the ocean that had separated them for the past few years.
Alaric had worked for Damon's father when he had been acting kingpin, and had no problem at all following the son's lead now.
"You must take care with business, boy," he could recall Giuseppe telling him, "Trust no one but tua famiglia."
Family.
Of course, his father had meant this less in the traditional sense, and more in a skull-and-bones, bonding through initiation, type way.
La Cosa Nostra had been his father's life after the brutal passing of Damon's mother, and what the Family had offered had mattered more than blood.
It hadn't stopped Giuseppe from being killed in a dispute over territory, though, and Damon had learned from his mistakes.
Devotion to a cause could blind you, and loyalty to an organization would never be self-serving.
And Damon placed a lot in self-value.
After all, save for his younger cousin Stefan, he had no living relations, and the lack of personal attachments made things so much easier.
Family may have held meaning once, but that had been taken from him, so now he prefered to rely on the relationships he had built within his business.
He was not as naive as his father, to believe that guards could be dropped and trust could be placed in anyone outside of those who had proven their loyalty with their lives.
Which was why his inner circle was kept small, and why these new dealings he had begun with Julian Maxfield would be analyzed in their entirety.
He did not favor the man, but he did trust his greed, and hoped that it would be a continuous driving point for greater profit in the months to come.
"I'm going home to find Stefan and I will message Maxfield personally concerning Thursday," Damon decided, pushing out of his chair and motioning for Alaric to grab the bag of incrimination, "Get rid of that, will you? And have the boys keep an eye on things here."
Ric nodded, ever faithful, "Absolutely. Did you want me to keep the bouncers doubled until closing as well?"
"Couldn't hurt," Damon agreed, as they started out of the office.
He shut the door behind him and pulled a key from his wallet, locked the thing, then handed it to Alaric, "Everyone's out by three. Run off any solicitors. We have no need to flag the attention of the NYPD this early in the game."
"The only reason Bradly Cabbot is still breathing, I'm sure," Ric smirked as he pocketed the thing and tightened his hold on the man's missing appendage.
Damon shrugged, "He wouldn't exactly be a top priority for Missing Persons, but he has ties to Andie, which means he has ties to this club. He is scum, but he isn't worth the heat."
"I hear that," Alaric agreed easily, "And I'll let you know if anyone else starts causing problems."
Damon nodded, "Grazie, mio amico. Feel free to help yourself to one of the girls tonight. I'll cover the compensation."
Alaric's laugh was nearly drowned by the music as they neared the end of the hall that would open to the club floor.
"Thanks, but no thanks, boss," he flashed his left hand where a silver ring caught in the strobe light, "Got a wife at home that keeps me plenty happy."
Oh, right. The guy had married that sweet tail he'd been dating for the past few years.
"A drink then," Damon smirked, "To your happiness, and to your cock, which must suffer the monogamy of your heart's choices."
Alaric merely flipped him off, but there was a slight grin on his face as he left Damon's side and descended down into the crowd below.
Damon watched him disappear and shook his head.
It was well that the guy seemed content with life, but he could not imagine his woman would have gone through with the wedding if she had known what kind of work her husband was involved in.
Sure, "Head of Security" looked good on paper, but the details of the job were slightly more ambiguous.
But what the hell, that was Ric's business, and at least the bastard had something to go home to at the end of the day.
Damon thought of his own king sized bed waiting in his empty room, in the vast house he had taken up residence in with his men.
Then he thought of that blonde who had been sucking him off earlier and suddenly, he found himself curious of Alaric's little slice of commitment.
They could not all be so lucky.
"Easy, sweetheart," Elena cooed in a soft murmur, "You're okay. Deep breaths now. In...and out...in...and out. Good."
She stared intently at the child in front of her who was sucking on the inhaler between her lips like her life depended on it.
And frankly, it did.
"Good, Nadia, very good," she praised, then looked up to where her sister, Katherine, was leaning against the closed bathroom door, those brown eyes the exact same shape and color of her own filled with similar worry.
"She'll be alright now," Elena assured her as their eyes met through the steam that filled the room, "Her breathing is back to normal."
"Thank god," her sister sank down to her knees as the six year old pulled the inhaler away from her mouth.
"Sorry Mommy," she said with a wheezy voice, "I didn't mean to scare you."
Elena sighed as Katherine pulled her daughter into her arms, "It's okay, baby, it's not your fault."
Nadia curled against her mother's chest and Elena leaned back so that her knees unfolded and she could sit on her bottom.
Her hair clung to the back of her neck with sweat, but she didn't dare reach over and turn off the shower's hot water just yet.
The makeshift steam room was one of the fastest ways to calm Nadia down when her asthma kicked up and made breathing nearly impossible.
"Thank you," Katherine mouthed, and Elena nodded at her.
These episodes were, fortunately, not very frequent, but Nadia had misplaced her spare inhaler and the other had been in Elena's purse.
She reached over and took the thing from her niece, then stared down at it, running the device over in her hands.
Almost empty. Again.
She exhaled deeply and tried not to let the worry show in her expression.
However, her sister's gaze missed nothing and Katherine shot her a questioning look.
Elena frowned and held up the inhaler, shaking her head.
The same look that must have been on her face covered Katherine's and the worry was there again, in her eyes.
This was a never ending battle for them, it truly was.
It took half an hour, but Nadia finally calmed completely and after having her brush her teeth, Katherine tucked her in with some extra pillows on the couch.
She didn't want her out of sight yet, in case another round of coughs happened to rack through that tiny body.
Elena didn't blame her the slightest, and tried to remain as quiet as possible as her niece faded to sleep.
Katherine left the girl's side to join her at the small table next to the kitchen where she was looking at their old laptop screen.
"It lasted longer this time," Katherine muttered, sitting down gracefully, despite the tension in her body, "If you hadn't of gotten home when you did-"
"Shh," Elena cut her off, "Don't even think it. Nadia is fine. We'll take her back to the doctor next week and we can-"
"Run more tests?" her sister shot with a shake of her head, "Elena, we are barely affording her medication as it is."
She sighed, "I know. But what other choice do we have?"
For that her sister had no answer, and instead, chose to drop her head into her hands.
Maybe she was praying for a miracle.
Elena certainly was.
"Julian gave me another contract," she said, hoping the news of the job would lift Katherine's spirits.
Her sister did look up from her hands, but there was not much to her expression, "What are we doing this time?"
"Not we," she reached across the table for the dossier that had been discarded during all the drama earlier, "Just a stake out on this guy's house."
She gave the file to Katherine, who wasted no time in getting to the info.
"This isn't a lot to go on," her brows pulled together and she picked up the blurry picture of the target, "He looks hot, though. Sure you don't want my help?"
Elena shook her head, "No. Julian doesn't want him engaged or even aware of our existence. Stealth mode, sis. This one's on me."
Katherine shrugged, "I'll lay low, then. Let me know if you need an alibi."
"Don't I always?" Elena smiled halfheartedly.
The two of them had a system that worked flawlessly, because no one ever suspected that their involvement was a team effort; not even their employers.
Elena couldn't blame them though, considering she and Katherine had the exact same face, and operated under the same name.
At home, they were identical twins; Elena and Katherine Petrova.
When it came to the job, however, they were Katalena Pierce...one and the same, and no one had ever caught on.
Which was why they were so often successful.
Katherine was the queen of the con, usually dolled up in tight clothes, wining and dining the target with flirty smiles as a distraction while Elena, quiet and efficient, made the extractions.
After all, it was hard to blame Katalena Pierce of any theft when she had been sitting across the table from you all night at the restaurant.
The dual identity, and the anonymity of if, ensured their safety and rapport with their contractors.
It was shady work, yes, but if integrity and honest labor actually paid the bills, they would never have ended up in this position.
Or, perhaps, if their father had been less of a radical traditionalist.
He had moved to America from Bulgaria with his family as a boy, and both Elena and Katherine had grown up hearing all the stories about how hard the transition had been and how lucky they were to have been given such opportunities that he himself had missed out on.
And they were lucky compared to others, she supposed; their childhood had been happy.
But then their mother had passed away, just after their ninth birthday, and it changed their father.
Where before he was just difficult, he became impossible, laying down strict rules and regulations that rivaled military school, and the girls had learned how to be sneaky.
Then Katherine, her sweet yet wild sister, had gotten pregnant at seventeen.
Their father had demanded that she agree to give the child up for adoption; to send it away the moment it was born.
Katherine had refused and Elena had backed her.
Their father had disowned them both.
Finding themselves alone in the world, so young and expecting a new baby, had proven difficult.
They bounced around as well as they could, doing odd jobs and barely keeping themselves housed and fed.
Then Nadia had been born and Elena knew they had to change tactics.
After a long night of plans and scheming, Katalena was created.
They had never looked back.
"I'm going to heat up some leftovers for dinner, then get ready for bed," Katherine covered a yawn as she pushed her chair back, "You want some?"
Elena shook her head and looked up from the laptop, "No, I'm good. I'll probably be up for a while, researching Julian's new competition."
Her sister made a face, "Have fun with that."
Elena stuck her tongue out at her but smiled as she returned back to her search engine.
No luck. There was zilch on Damon Salvatore in the database.
Well, that was disappointing.
So instead, she searched his address and scoped pictures of the home that resided there.
"House" would be too small a word to encompass what she was looking at on her screen, as Salvatore's new abode popped up.
Mansion was more like it.
God, how much money does this guy have?
Maybe she could talk Julian into letting her do an extraction after all.
Surely the guy had some sort of safe tucked away in all that brick castle he was living in.
Then again, stealing from your potential business partner wasn't a very strategic move, especially when it involved things like mafia and cartels, so she doubted he would go for it.
She clicked a few more things, hoping the rabbit hole she was jumping in would provide some sort of insight.
Large grounds around the mansion, plenty of places for her to hide out and remain invisible.
She'd have to pack her gear bag and go check it out tomorrow afternoon, and she would take her camera.
Maybe she could get a better shot of Damon Salvatore and figure out just who she was dealing with.
Little longer of a chapter. Hope you guys enjoyed!
I've gotten a little insight on the medical front from my friend, AlwaysElisabethian, but I am in no means on expert.
So please forgive any inaccuracies!
Love you all, and will post again soon!
