Inspired by The Night Manager. Bonnie Bennett is an undercover operative hoping to do the right thing by taking down billionaire arms dealer Klaus Mikealson by infiltrating his inner circle. Damon is the handler making sure she gets out alive. Temptation is abound in this place.
Pairings: Bonnie Bennett/Klaus Mikealson, Bonnie Bennett/Damon Salvatore (slight)
A/N: So I am on a roll just spitting new stuff out. This is the last for now I hope so I can focus on my WIPs. This is a four parter I decided to write after listening to Sam Smith and going on a Tom Hiddlesworth binge. R&R so I don't feel like shit! Enjoy!
Berlin, Germany
The first she heard his name was in Berlin. She had been working at a luxury five star hotel for about six months since she left London. The job was satisfactory and she had enough mind numbing distraction that when she went to bed she fell asleep nearly instantly. No time for thoughts or dreams to invade her mind. The guests were decent enough and the haughty ones were rewarded with her wide customer service smile.
Her German had been improving and she was already halfway fluent. Her colleague Andrea complimented her efforts each time. "You're very willing for an American." Bonnie couldn't even be offended by that. She'd dealt with enough American guests to know they didn't like compromise most times.
It was a good job. She liked working the night shifts especially. They were just as rowdy as the day sometimes when late flights came in and she was dealing with a very jet lagged guest who couldn't remember where they stuffed their passports into. But mostly it was quiet, the atmosphere filled with nothing but the sound of clicks from the desktops and mutterings from whoever was manning the front desk with her too. The only other American who worked there was a sous chef called Matt. He was sweet and made her apple strudel sometimes. Apples only, no walnuts. She couldn't stand them. A childhood habit that followed her to adulthood.
Sometimes Matt got them into parties at the American Embassy since he knew someone on the staff. Then Bonnie drank champagne that was too bubbly and reminisced about college football and 4th of July barbecues with the other expatriates. They usually invited her to hang out with them at one of the bars and beer gardens they frequented but she declined each time.
There was no need.
Bonnie enjoyed her own company. Travelling had not been what she wanted to do after college where she studied Linguistics but after Grams had died, her father was remarried with another child and the state of Virginia felt too small all of a sudden. Then the US too.
She'd gotten a job as an interpreter for an American company in Paris. It was exciting. She was twenty one and properly on her own for the first time in a foreign city. The sort of thing a lone adventurer craved. Then when the branch moved to Brussels, so did she. It had been a good run for about a year then the itch came again and she moved to the UK.
Bonnie went to London and got a gig as an assistant to the UN ambassador. Her old boss had happily recommended her and her language skills came very useful. It was interesting; she got to meet world leaders and activists. Politicians weren't her favorite but one or two weren't so bad.
In all honesty, being a manager at a hotel was probably a downgrade but she didn't miss the politics and added stress that came with that job. There was also the matter of one of the ambassadors' aides being too familiar with her despite her firm discouragement but thankfully it didn't escalate. It did leave her with a deep sense of shame and an instinct to flinch automatically to touch for the months that followed after. It still came up occasionally even though she'd buried it in concrete coated with a cheerful smile.
Working at the hotel was better.
Until one day when a woman came in. She was tall, thin and lovely in an out of reach model-esque manner. She wore a short tight dress that hugged her figure and six inch red heels. It shouldn't have gotten her attention. But it was her manner and everything else about her.
"Good evening Madam, how may I help you?" Bonnie greeted in German with a polite smile ready to serve.
"I have a reservation under the name Katherine Pierce," She declared in English pulling her sunglasses down her delicate nose. She was American. Her honey brown eyes were striking. It was the first time she'd thought that of brown eyes. She was most likely a model or an heiress travelling alone.
Bonnie consulted the guest book on her desktop, "Ah yes. You're booked for the Royal Suite. It's 233."
"Have your staff take my bags up. I would like to have a coffee in the lounge," Katherine instructed.
"Of course ma'am," Bonnie agreed, already calling the bellboys and ordering a coffee from the kitchen.
Katherine was facing the window in the business lounge when Bonnie arrived with a steaming cup of coffee. She watched her pour it so intensely it made her uncomfortable. She took a deep breath before plastering the smile back, "Will that be all Madame?"
"You're American," Katherine ignored her question.
"Yes I am. From Virginia," Bonnie concurred.
"The Americans in Germany are all so annoying," Katherine mused dropping a cube of sugar into her coffee, "You know Alaric Saltzman at the embassy?"
Bonnie blinked wondering how the hell this random woman knew that. Alaric had been the friend Matt knew who got them into the parties all the time. "I-I do. How did you know that?"
Katherine elegantly stirred her coffee. Her eyes were trained on the window still, "I saw you at a party two, three months ago? You looked quite close."
Bonnie shrugged, "Not very close." They spoke occasionally a few times. Alaric was charming and interesting enough. They'd nearly hooked up once before but he declined at the last minute. He wasn't over his ex-wife Isobel. Like everything in her life, Bonnie took it in stride zipping up her dress and making him tea as a friendly gesture. They never brought it up again.
"Well perhaps you're close enough that if you told him you found something illegal, he'd believe you," Katherine said casually taking a sip. She wrinkled her nose at the taste. Too sweet.
Bonnie's eyebrows furrowed, "Illegal? I'm sorry Madame, I don't understand."
"Do you know who's paying for my room?" She asked, suddenly glancing at Bonnie.
She shook her head. It certainly fit the profile of a wealthy man's mistress. Bonnie didn't want to judge. The royal suites were certainly good enough to stomach sucking some dick for. She'd been tempted once or twice.
"Klaus Mikealson," Katherine announced gauging Bonnie's reaction. It took her a moment to remember why the name sounded familiar. He was one of the richest men in the world under 40. He was the head of the Hybrid conglomerate which headed everything from pharmaceutical companies to kitchen appliances. They had their fingers in every pie.
She'd seen his picture on the cover of Time magazine. The article about him escaped her but she remembered how he looked in the black and white tone. Handsome no doubt, mouth curled into a seamless half-smile that was both infuriating and attractive. To her he had looked like a man who was used to winning, bored with it really.
"Oh," Bonnie said awkwardly unsure of what to do with the information.
"Yes," Katherine looked distant. "Don't let the magazines and charity donations fool you. He's the worst man in the world." Her expression was weary and worn. For a moment underneath the beautiful cheekbones and flawless makeup was something shaken to the core. Bonnie was tempted to ask, to know if he had anything to do with it.
"You may go Miss. Bonnie," She dismissed finishing her coffee. "I'll be in my room shortly.
"Yes Madam," Bonnie left for her desk. From then till 3am when her shift ended it was all she could think about.
She didn't see Katherine until the next evening. It was a slow night. Andrea had been complaining about how her girlfriend didn't seem ready to move in and Bonnie had given her all the usual platitudes for relationship advice when the phone rang.
Bonnie answered, "Front desk. How may I help you?"
"Bonnie, so lucky you're working tonight," Katherine crooned.
"What do you need madam?" Bonnie asked, hoping to keep their conversation as professional as possible. Andrea gave her a questioning look.
"Well I'd like to put some items in the safe but the combination isn't working. Could you come up and take a look at it?" She inquired. Her voice was low and alluring. Bonnie bit her lip.
"Of course. I'll be right there." The call disconnected.
Bonnie tried to ignore how her heart sped in the elevator and as she got closer to room 233. She waited for a second or two once she reached the door and knocked softly. The door opened immediately. Katherine was wearing nothing but a silk red negligée. Her smile was slow and easy as she leaned against the door frame.
Bonnie swallowed hard.
"Good evening, I'm here to see the safe," She tried to keep her voice as clear as possible.
Katherine walked her over to it. It worked perfectly on the first try. She shrugged, "Perhaps you just have the magical touch Bonnie girl." Bonnie didn't know exactly what she was playing at but she needed to leave before she felt the urge to do something stupid. The woman had wasted her time for some unknown reason.
Bonnie smiled tightly, "If that is all madam…"
Katherine shook her head looking serious all of a sudden, "I would like you to get something to your friend Alaric at the embassy." She walked to her nightstand and opened the draw to retrieve a thin file. She handed it to Bonnie.
"I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with this," Bonnie stuttered. She didn't want to look inside unsure of what this mysterious woman was playing at with her. "Look, I've only seen the man a few times. Maybe you should go to see him if you know so much-,"
"No!" Katherine interrupted. She was mildly panicked for a moment then composed herself. A woman so used to wearing masks she didn't realize when one slipped off her. But now Bonnie saw her true face. She was afraid.
"Look, I did something very risky getting these documents. If it all goes to shit then I am toast. I am begging you to please get these to Alaric Saltzman. Make sure no one else sets eyes on these apart from him. Tell him it's a matter of national security," Katherine begged. It was so daunting to see. She did not strike Bonnie as the sort of woman who begged for anything. She wasn't sure what made her give in, the pleading look or her own innate curiosity. National security sounded too important to be given to just anything. If it was real then playing courier would have been worth it. At the worst, Alaric would be slightly annoyed by her for giving him useless information.
"Why me?" She questioned.
Katherine sighed, "I've been debating with myself whether to turn this in or not. When I recognized you from the party I guess it felt like fate telling me to do something good for once in my life. This needs to get out to trusting eyes. Especially since I'm sure something might happen to me soon." She had a look of reluctant acceptance.
Slowly, Bonnie took the file from her hand.
Katherine gave her a grateful look, "Thank you."
Bonnie left not quite sure what to say to her. The whole situation was ridiculous, she thought on the bus back to her apartment. The file was tucked safely in her bag. She tossed it on the couch once she got home ignoring it while she took a shower and warmed up some take away. Licking the spicy curry from her fingers, she stole a glance at it.
Curiosity got the best of her and she went to the kitchen to wash her hands before grabbing it to read.
Her eyes widened at what she saw.
Understanding accounting and finance was not her thing. Bonnie knew she was mathematically challenged and accepted it but even she could make out the words that were staring her right in the face. A company named Maltese ltd had paid a hundred million dollars for a truck full of armory. Detailed were different types of guns and even some bombs. Guns that sounded far too dangerous to be written on ink.
The company selling them was called Trident International. A quick Google search told her that Trident was a subsidiary under the Hybrid conglomerate. The same one owned by Klaus Mikealson. Nothing came up on Maltese.
On their website Trident was shown to deal solely in home electronics. Recently they'd decided to open a factory in Bangalore, India. The Indian Times praised them for the jobs they would bring to help their economy.
The worst man in the world, Katherine had called him.
No one needed to tell her how illegal it all was. No electronics company had a hundred million dollars' worth of guns just lying about. How had Katherine gotten a hold of this? Bonnie was plagued with so many thoughts and unsure of what choice to make next. The documents felt like a heavy log on her lap keeping her trapped in place.
After a moment of heavy breathing she reached for her cell phone and called Matt. He didn't answer so she shot him a quick text asking to get Alaric's number. She kept the file in a small suitcase and locked it with a tiny padlock keeping the key in her cell phone case before heading to bed to try and get some rest.
Rest never really came.
Bonnie tossed and turned before falling into dreamless slumber around 3am. When she woke up around noon, her phone was blasting with messages. Matt had sent the number to her and asked her to call him back. Andrea and her boss had both been calling her which caused a frown. Her shift didn't start for a few hours.
She decided to play it safe and call Andrea first.
"Bonnie! Where are you?" She asked frantically.
"I'm at home. My shift doesn't start until 4pm today. Is anything the matter?" Bonnie yawned.
"A guest is dead," She jumped out of bed, "What?! Who?"
"Katherine Pierce. The American lady from yesterday. The police say it was a mugging-," Her heart dropped from her chest. For a moment she blacked out unable to hear anything Andrea was saying. It had just been a few hours since she last saw the woman and took the incriminating file from her. Now she was dead. It couldn't be a coincidence. What exactly had she gotten herself into?
The police asked all the staff to come in for questioning. Bonnie had answered everything as truthfully as she could but left out what Katherine said to her and the file. Their boss was cooperative in hopes that it wouldn't scare off the other guests. Katherine was mugged near a nightclub. They took her phone and purse. At least that was the official story. Bonnie wasn't sure what to make of it especially when the woman had practically predicted that something would happen to her.
Later that evening she was behind her desk when she saw a black Bentley zoom into the entrance. The driver got out and opened the door. Out walked Klaus Mikealson. Her hand froze over the intercom she was about to dial.
He looked taller in person and unfortunately, more handsome. He wore a black suit fitted underneath an expensive dark coat that cost more than her salary. Blue eyes piercing and sharp, surveying everything within their path. Two men walked beside him both taller and menacing. She guessed they were his bodyguards. His eyes reached her briefly and she couldn't help but hold her breath. His gaze felt a laser penetrating deep under her skin. Goosebumps made her shudder.
Katherine's voice came again. The worst man in the world.
He walked closer towards her until he reached the front desk. Bonnie screamed at herself internally to stay calm. Plaster that award winning smile.
"Good evening," He greeted in a crisp British accent. "I'm looking for Rolf Wagner. I have an appointment with him."
"Of course sir. Let me just call him," Bonnie answered the weight of her smile almost too much to bear. Rolf was her boss. She called him over the intercom and he came barreling out instantly leading Klaus to his office and sucking up in every manner possible. He gave her one last glance before heading away. She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
Andrea appeared not too long after eyes wide at the sight, "Was that Klaus Mikealson? Isn't he that hot billionaire guy?"
And potential murderer "Yes," Bonnie muttered wanting to ignore everything that just happened.
"Lucky you."
Luck had shit all to do with it.