Update! Lots of emotions going on in the last chapter. Hopefully ya'll enjoy this one as well!


It only took two days for Damon to reach out to her.

Not that Elena was particularly waiting for his call, or thinking about their last conversation; replaying every single moment in her head on a loop as she tried to go to sleep the night before…

No, not at all.

She turned off the treadmill she was currently finishing her last mile on, and waited for it to still before answering the incoming call.

"Hello?"

"Change of plans. You will meet with me today," the order was barked immediately, and Elena paused on her way to the paper towel rack, forgetting all about wiping down the machine she'd used.

"And good morning to you, too."

If she had been hoping that some vigorous gym time would work off her pent up energy, the low laugh that came back at her faltered the progress.

"It was my understanding you wished to skip any pleasantries," Damon's amused tone was only a little accusatory, "Business only, no?"

Elena's jaw set, "Being focused on business doesn't mean that we can't be civil. Now, what's this about a change in the plan?"

"You will meet with me today, instead of tomorrow," Damon went with the topic refocus, "Be at my home by one. We will need to discuss-"

"Wait," Elena removed her headphones so she could place the phone directly to her ear and started toward the women's locker room, "You want me to meet with you today? That's a little short notice, don't you think?"

"Are you refusing me?" He said this with the same amused tone, as if the idea of anyone turning down such an order was ludicrous.

Elena rolled her eyes as she unlocked her locker and pulled out her gym bag and car keys, "No. I'm telling you that people have lives and sometimes that means that they can't drop everything just because you've decided to change your mind. I had planned on meeting with you tomorrow. Not today."

There was a noise, some shuffling, on his end, "And what might hinder you from being able to accomodate this rescheduling? Another date, perhaps?"

Elena flushed at the memory his words recalled, "No. Not that it's any of your business. And you still never told me how you knew where I was that night."

She was out of the gym now, crossing the parking lot to her car; the early morning sun drying the sweat on her skin.

"I make it my business to know things," Damon responded nonchalantly, "And speaking of business, we have needs to discuss it. Today. At one."

As she got into her car, Elena couldn't help but laugh at his insistence, "You know, if you really want something, asking for it will get you a lot further than demanding it."

There was a beat of silence, then Damon's voice warmed, "You want me to beg for you, cara mia?"

Elena tapped her brakes harder than she meant to as she backed up, and her car lurched.

"That is not what I said."

Damon chuckled, the gravel of it ruining all remaining effects of destress that her workout had provided, "It is what you meant. Do you want to hear me say 'please'? I will admit, it is not a word I use often, but for you I could make an exception."

Regaining her senses, Elena redirected herself, until she was out on the road, driving home, "As much lecturing as your manners need, it's not the job you've hired me for," she reminded him, determined to stay on task, "Is the meeting today about the extraction?"

Thankfully, Damon dropped the innuendos, "Yes. I have the blue prints you will need, and have found that an opportunity has arisen for the task to be completed tomorrow night. The sooner you are prepared, the better."

While she considered that, he added, "I can send a car for you, if you are unable to make arrangements."

And get stuck at his house with no way of leaving? No, thank you!

Out loud, she told him, "I appreciate it, but there's no need. I can be at your estate by one."

"Good," he commended, "I shall anticipate your arrival."

Elena hung up in a hurry, taking a few settling breaths as she was forced to stop behind another car at a red light.

A meeting today.

A job tomorrow.

Then she would be paid and she wouldn't have to worry about ever seeing Damon Salvatore again.

And that is a good thing, she tried to convince herself.


Alaric typed his code into the security pad on the estate's front door, waiting until the little chime and green light gave him the "all clear" before unlocking the thing.

On the other side, he was greeted by a small team of caterers Damon often used for SINC, though most of them never met his gaze and only the manager ever spoke.

He nodded at one of the older women as he passed, and noticed that she was carrying a tray of cheese slices toward the parlor.

He followed behind her, entering the room at the other end of the hall, where his boss was pacing around in a designer button up, a phone to his ear as words flowed off in foreign tongue.

Working for Giuseppe, Ric had learned enough Italian to recognize when a threat was being made, and whoever was on the other end of Damon's line was making the man agitated.

"Then deal with them however you like," Damon finished, ending the call and shaking his head.

Alaric took the moment to announce his presence, "Hey, Boss."

Damon's eyes lifted to his, and some of the irritation bled away from the man's face, "Ric. Good, you're here."

Alaric nodded, before motioning to the phone in Damon's hand, "Everything okay?"

"Lorenzo," Damon waved the cell before putting it back in his pocket, "He found some punks trying to resell the product I procured for Maxfield."

Ric frowned, "Wouldn't an upsale be Maxfield's problem?"

"My point, precisely," Damon agreed, then snapped his fingers at the server by the fireplace and motioned for her and the remaining others to clear the room.

When they had, he continued, "But Lorenzo felt as if he and Mason should deal with the wannabes themselves, since the product is my transport. Some notion about teaching a lesson. Most likely the brothers are just bored."

"Or pissed that you don't have them on the extraction detail," Ric offered, walking closer now that Damon had calmed down.

He shrugged, "I need them at SINC. Besides, you do not send a demolition squad on a stealth mission. A show of force is unnecessary for my plans, but if working out their disagreement on a few street punks makes the brothers feel better about the situation, who am I to stop them?"

Alaric smirked as Damon circled around the room, stopping near the table between the sofas, where a lunch spread had been arranged.

The sight of the cheese and deli meat cuts gave Ric a pause, "Hors d'oeuvres for lunch? Classier than your usual starve-until-I-remind-you-to-eat method, isn't it?"

Damon's gaze met his, and the coldness of the stare all but spoke for him.

"We're expecting company?" Alaric guessed and Damon cleared his throat, "As a matter of fact, we are. Plans for the extraction need to be set in motion sooner, rather than later, or we risk the product being moved from Augustine's storage."

"Right," he agreed for the sake of keeping the peace, but a part of him was concerned by the obvious effort.

Much like his father had been, Damon was a very outcome oriented individual.

Born with little conscience, into a position of wealth and power, he was not someone who was denied often, and for good reason.

The fact that he was taking extra care to prepare for one woman's arrival was hint enough that he wanted something from her.

And judging by the attention the man had put into his appearance today, Alaric was sure he could guess what that was.

But it wasn't as if the man couldn't get sex any night of the week, from any number of girls.

Something else was happening, here, and one of those conning twins was at its center.

"Do I need to clear out before your guest arrives?" he offered, and was immediately waved off, "No, I need you here for the plans. The blueprints for Augustine's buildings are in my office. Get them, will you? And the check for the food is on my desk. Pay them and show them out."

"Sure," he inclined his head, "Anything else?"

Damon thought for half a second, "The laptop. I assume you brought the hard drive I asked Stefan to give you?"

Ric reached into his back pocket and produced the small USB flash, "You doubt me?"

That earned him a dark smile, "Never."


Elena arrived exactly on time, following the winding path onto the property, to the main house.

The vastness of the estate was even more impressive in the midday sun, though it felt odd to park directly in the circle drive and present her face to the outdoor security camera.

However, all of those distractions became minute when the thick front door opened and Damon was suddenly before her, filling the frame.

Her breath caught at the sight of him and everything she had been trying to forget since their less than proper moments together came rushing back.

Those eyes, those hands, and god, that mouth

Oh, he looked good. Too damn good.

She froze in place, not trusting herself to move any closer and her gaze traveled over him of their own accord.

Damon returned the favor, and did nothing to hide his assessment.

"You made it," was the first thing he said, the words full of relief, as if he had been holding his breath while waiting for her, and now he could finally exhale, "Quite punctually, I might add."

"What can I say, I'm a professional," she noted, more as a reminder to herself than anything, and lifted her chin, "Do I get to come in, or are you hosting this meeting in your driveway?"

Damon stood back so the entrance was open to her, "Right this way. If you are actually planning to use the door this time, instead of the roof."

She gave him a dirty look, but accepted the invitation, walking past him over the threshold.

The inside of the estate was vast and warm, the hall of the foyer stretched with white marble tile covered in Pursian rugs and priceless artifacts displayed along the walls.

She hadn't been able to appreciate its grandness, under the circumstances of her last visit.

"We will be in the parlor," Damon came up beside her, one of his hands touching her mid back, the other directing her forward, "With the fireplace; you remember."

Ignoring the jibe, she let him lead her down the hallway, to the arched end where the slight descent opened into the room she had originally broken into.

It too seemed more welcoming with the daylight pouring in from the far window, and out of habit, she made a precautionary assessment of the space.

And noticed the lunch prepared on the table.

"Is this a meeting or a dinner party?" she challenged, looking at Damon with an arched brow, "All that's missing is the champagne."

He smirked, that sinful gaze combing over her face, "I have impeded upon your lunch hour. The least I could do was assure you did not starve. However, if it is your request to have an alcoholic beverage available, I am more than willing to accommodate. Your habit of partaking seems to work in my favor."

"Okay, I wouldn't call it a habit," Elena turned to face him, his hand sliding from her back to her side as she did so, "The last time I saw you I had only had one beer, and the time before that, you were the one who insisted we go to your office for a drink, not me."

His eyes gleamed in a way that made her regret speaking.

"So there is no excuse of inebriation to blame for our last encounter?" Damon surmised, as his hand squeezed, holding her in place.

Elena opened her mouth to say something, anything, in defense, but no words came.

Damn him.

As if she had admitted the defeat, Damon chuckled, "You do not like that you want me, do you, cara mia? And do not waste time denying the obvious."

She swallowed, "We're here to discuss business-"

"And we will," he promised, stepping closer, "But we have a moment, and I am curious. Why did you turn from me the other night? You wanted me inside of you."

Elena flushed at his choice of words, and shook her head, "You're a criminal."

"A fact that does not cancel out the other," he reasoned, and raised the hand not digging into her waist, to her cheek.

Her eyes lifted to avoid his, and strangely, she noticed a fresh cut on his forehead.

She started to ask about it, by means of distraction if nothing else, but Damon spoke first.

"I thought of you that night, you know?" he breathed, the warmth of his words rushing over her as those fingers moved to her hair, stroking the straight locks with a soft fascination.

The palm on her hip drifted forward, over the front of her jeans, until the pressure of his hand was cupping her core, "I thought of this."


After sending the caterers on their way, Alaric went to the office and filed the blueprints Damon had asked for into a folder.

Then uploaded his flash drive onto the laptop's mainframe, which took long enough that he was tempted to pour himself a drink from one of Damon's fancy liquor bottles.

He resisted though, knowing they all needed to be clear headed for this discussion.

Once all the information had completely transferred, he closed the computer and carried both it and the file from the office, being sure to lock the door behind him.

He gave his phone a check, before starting down the hall, just to make sure Jenna, or one of the men, hadn't reached out.

Nada.

Which was usually a good thing; especially so today, because there was a lot to go over to make sure the extraction plan was enacted without any hiccups, and interruptions would only slow the process.

Better for them to nail out the details without distractions and make sure everyone was gonna make it through to the other side.

He didn't envy the woman Damon had hired to recover the product.

Elena. The sneaky burglar with a twin that had managed to impress the wrong person; poor thing.

She was risking being exposed on some powerful radars in a bad way, and everything decent in him felt like it was wrong to put a member of the fairer sex, no matter who she was, in such a vulnerable-

The thought dropped dead as he entered the parlor, just in time to see that familiar brunette slap his boss right across the face.

The sound of impact her hand made on Damon's cheek echoed through the room and Alaric rushed forward.

To help Damon or protect the girl, he wasn't sure, but he was surprised when his boss only laughed.

Ric's gaze pinned to the girl, who was breathing hard and glaring at Damon, but otherwise unmoving, before shifting to the man himself.

"Boss-"

"It's fine," Damon spoke, but did not look his way. That stare was focused on his assailant, and Ric became afraid for the girl.

"Maybe you should go outside until-" he started to suggest, but Damon lifted a hand, stopping him.

Alaric tensed, waiting to see if there was any retaliation about to be dished out, and wondering how the hell he was gonna help the girl out of it, if there was.

"Oh I'm not going anywhere," Elena stated firmly, her arms crossing over her chest, "Your boss hired me for a job and I intend to get paid. Assuming he can behave long enough to tell me what the plan is."

That challenging lift of her brow as she stared down the heir of a crime lord dynasty was either admirable bravery or sheer stupidity, and he hurried to scan Damon's reaction.

Throwing Ric off again, the man was smiling as if the woman was being a flirt, instead of disrespecting him in his own home.

"Her point is fair," Damon agreed with that grin, despite the fact that his cheek had turned red, "On to business."

What the hell just happened?, Ric wondered.


The planning went over smoothly enough, Damon decided an hour later, despite the conversation's rough introduction.

Elena had relaxed as soon as Alaric had pulled out the blueprints and had even nibbled some on the lunch he had bought for her, as his H.O.S showed a virtual rendering of the camera system at Augustine's storage location.

The program Stefan had created was nearly flawless, and allowed them to pinpoint the best access points, as well places where Alaric could hide while the extraction was made.

A safety measure Damon was insistent upon, and was half tempted to take up himself...but he had his own part to play.

While his Katalena made the extraction, the other one was going to be acting as the alibi, keeping the necessary parties far away from the location site.

When Elena explained, in detail, how she and her sister ran their con, he could not help but once again be impressed by the ingenuity of it all.

Had he been anyone else, the same plan would have worked with the planting of Julian Maxfield's necklace, and had Maxfield not been so sorely incompetent, Damon might not have even known Elena existed at all.

He had frowned at the consideration.

Julian, selfish and thoughtless, putting his intruder in danger was something that needed rectifying.

Damon could have very well killed her; and it would have been that bastard's fault..but perhaps now was not the time for that.

Not when there were so many other things to manage.

Such as setting up the meeting with the Augustine board president and it's higher profile members.

He would be accompanying Elena's twin to the meeting, or rather, she would be accompanying him, along with Stefan, and the three of them would make sure there were no big names near Elena when she did her job.

Any onsite security would be hers to avoid, and Alaric's to take down, if she was discovered.

There was no reason things should not play out favorably.

Once everyone was set to purpose, Damon dismissed Alaric to return to the club where he would relay the plan to Stefan and meet up with the brothers for the night's delegating.

Elena seemed less than thrilled by the third party's departure, but he didn't give a shit about that, because finally, they were alone again.


"Well," she cleared her throat once Alaric left, and stood from the chair she had been occupying, "I should probably be heading out as well. Katherine will be-"

"Your sister will wait for you," Damon decided for her, and gestured with his hand, "Sit."

Predictably, Elena did not immediately obey him, and for some reason that rekindled the fire that had been burning in his chest since the moment he had seen her pull into his driveway.

He wanted more time with her.

"I need to leave," she insisted, but did not move toward the exit.

Not wanting to give her a reason to, Damon stayed exactly where he was, "Why the rush?"

She did not respond to the question, but the tense silence was answer enough, was it not?

As was her averted gaze.

They were alone and she was afraid of what that meant; of what she might let happen...again.

He had pressed her before, moving things too fast, too quickly, and his fiery bellezza had retaliated with a quick hand and a sharp sting.

It was good that Alaric had appeared in the moment that followed, because otherwise Damon may have been tempted to take her against the wall, right then and there, with how badly her defiant act had made him want her.

And she would have let him.

Oh, she wanted to fight, that much was a given, and he would enjoy that very much...but eventually this connection between them would be too much, and she would beg for his touch.

He was a patient man. He could wait for her to lose every ounce of that fragile self control.

"Sit," Damon repeated, deducting that the non-threatening approach was more likely to relax her resolve, "I will not touch you, you have my word."

Elena's eyes narrowed, "Is your word supposed to mean something to me?"

But even as she jibed him, she did as he asked, sitting down in the sofa chair across from his own.

"I have not lied to you, thus far, have I?" he pointed out, and she shrugged, "That I know of."

He smirked as she fell silent again, and took the moment to really appreciate how good she looked.

Unlike the overly eager trollop he had used a few nights ago, Elena captured his desire just by being.

There was something so natural about her beauty, something so unexplainably alluring that not having her was driving him crazy.

And if that kiss by her car was any indication to what they could share in a bed-

"What happened to your face?" she asked, catching him by surprise.

"Pardon me?"

She pointed a finger in his direction, "Your face. What happened?"

"You hit me," he reminded her, to which she huffed out a breath, "Not that. I meant your forehead. I noticed earlier that you had a fresh cut there."

Damon lifted a hand to the injury, vaguely recalling the cold fluorescent of the bathroom at SINC, and the way that blue hazed light had made the red of his blood stand out against his skin so strikingly.

The mirror had already been replaced.

"Ah, this," he brushed a finger over the healing line, "The latest attempt at quieting the nonsense within my head. I am afraid it failed."

That nose of hers scrunched as Elena grew confused, "That was self-inflicted?"

"You almost sound concerned," he deflected her question with an easy smile.

"I'm concerned you need a shrink," she fired back, and he waved her off, "Thousands lost for a doctor to tell me what I already know? A waste."

Elena leaned forward, her hair falling over her shoulder as her expression became intrigued, "And what exactly is it that you think you know?"

Damon's eyes raked over that dark mane, "I know that I prefer your hair straight, and down as it is now. Did you wear it that way just for me?"

The narrowed gaze returned, "Yeah. I went home to shower after my workout this morning and thought 'Gee, I should dry my hair and wear it straight today because that's how Damon prefers it.' Yup. It was all for you."

Ignoring the way his pulse leaped at the sound of his name leaving her lips, Damon sat forward, "And what else would you do for me, cara mia?"

Elena sighed, then pinned him with a hard look, "I'm making an effort to build rapport with you, here, but if you're just going to twist everything I say, then I'm leaving."

"I believe we have already crossed the boundaries of a business rapport," he inferred, "Or was cumming on my fingers some new workplace team building exercise that I was not made aware of?"

"Ooookay," Elena stood up to leave, clearly done with his shit, and Damon moved just as fast, catching her arm.

"Wait," he implored, "I...I apologize. I just..."

She stared up at him, and the fragile steel of her gaze was mesmerizing.

"I just want to understand you," he finished, letting go of his hold on her, and thankfully, she remained in place.

"There isn't much to understand," she said simply, "I won't deny that you're attractive, hell, you know you are. But I'm here to work for a paycheck, not to be distracted by you or anything else."

The candor was a little surprising, and Damon's jaw flexed as he considered her.

"Money is that important to you?" he asked and Elena laughed harshly, "Well, my kind of freelancing doesn't exactly come with health insurance, so..."

His chest tightened, "Are you sick?"

Elena paused, her mouth falling slightly open, then shook her head, "No...no, I was speaking in a hypothetical sense. Money means security, for anything my sister and I might need, and this is what we're good at. For now, this is how we survive."

"We all do what we must," he agreed and Elena motioned around the room, "Clearly it's working out for you."

An odd expression passed her face as she lingered over a Renaissance painting above the fireplace, "Maybe I should get into the drug business, make a few mill myself...or is it the pimping gig that brings in the most profit?"

There was a sarcastic bite to her voice and Damon frowned, "You work outside the rules of legality for your livelihood, yet would judge me for doing the same?"

"Oooh no," she waved a hand at him, "What we do is not the same. You hurt people. You exploit them. You prey on the weak and you profit from their vulnerability."

"Prove it," he challenged, the muscles of his back clenching as a familiar frustration worked through his body.

Elena didn't back down, "I don't have to. Drugs ruin lives and you have no idea where yours ends up. But you get paid, so what does it matter if some mother has to bury her addicted son?"

"I do not put the needle in their arms," Damon argued and the look he got back was more pity than anger.

"What good is a gun without any bullets?" she asked gently, "Absolve yourself however you like. It doesn't change the truth."

Damon shook his head, "The truth is that these people make a choice for themselves, and all but throw their money into my pockets. So tell me, why should I feel anything for them?"

"Because they're still human beings," Elena exclaimed, more boldly this time, "Who have gone through things that drove them to that point. They still have lives; lives that you are affecting. Just like the girls you run at your club. How many do you think would rather earn their living a different way? Nearly all of them? But like me, they're stuck doing what they know will get them by."

Damon leaned in closer, holding her stare, "And like you, they are paid well for their service. How can you condemn that which provides you what you need?"

"It's easy when you have a clear conscience," she retorted shamelessly, "I'm not proud of what I do, but no one I've ever targeted was an innocent bystander. It's the corrupt taking from the corrupt and I'm merely the means in which they do it."

Oh, she was so much more than that though, was she not?

No matter how she may deny it.

"Absolve yourself however you like," he spat her own words back at her, "It does not change the truth."


The air hung between them like a loaded gun, waiting for ignition, but this time, it was not a sexual tension Damon felt.

No, this feeling came from wanting to argue his point, to make her understand, to….to explain himself.

The morals of his actions had stopped mattering years ago, but damn him, he would not appear a monster in her eyes.

Not when she was far from innocent herself.

"Go on and think yourself as some kind of Robin Hood, taking only from the evil, but it is still exploitation. You are still profiting from another's misfortune, and refusing to acknowledge reality," his lips pulled back from his teeth, "I may be corrupt, cara mia, but I can admit it. Money is money, however it is obtained. Has this line of work not taught you that?"

"It's taught me that there are a lot of greedy people in the world," she corrected, "Bad people, who only care about money."

The accusation in her statement was obvious.

"The whole world is bad," he said, dryly, "At least being rich makes it bearable."

Elena blinked at his remark, and after a moment that deep brown gaze seemed to soften.

The little frown that creased her lips drew his eyes to them, and then she was touching him.

Barely.

A brush of her fingertips against his forehead.

There was a faint throb of pain when she pushed back his hair and grazed the healing cut.

His gaze darted back to hers and she exhaled sadly before asking, "Does it?"

When he didn't answer, too stunned by her touch to move, Elena dropped her hand, "I don't think I'm the only one refusing to acknowledge reality."

On that note, she walked away, and every step she took left nothing behind but empty air.

This time, Damon did not try to stop her.


If your OTP doesn't bond over opposing moralistic arguments, are they even worth shipping? lol

Let me know whatcha think!