My humble apologizes for any confusion about chapters. I decided to merge a couple chapters, only to wind up deleting one entirely lol So I wound up having to rewrite it which turned out okay 'cuz I liked the way a certain scene came out better. And also managed to get out Chapter 8 at the same time so yay for that D Thank you very much to everyone who has read and reviewed the story so far, thanks for sticking with me even when I mess things up. Hope you guys enjoy an entire chapter of Damon, there will be plenty more to come not to worry ;) For those of us who aren't French savvy there's a translation of what Meredith and Damon say to eachother at the end.
Chapter 8
The only comfort Meredith was able to derive from the moment was that Damon seemed just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. He glanced between her and Vivienne with a distinctly bemused expression. Fortunately the smitten hostess didn't notice and plowed forward with her introductions.
"Prince Damien, I'd like to introduce you to meet Madeline Dubois. He's originally from Florence, but has graciously decided to spend his summer here. Madeline is from Paris where her father owns a shipping fleet."
The world seemed to pause for an infinite amount of heartbeats as Damon attempted to process this. His gaze lingered on Meredith questioningly, but there was nothing she could do except wait and see how he reacted. At least his usual poker face had settled into place; she never thought she would be grateful for that. It gave her a spark of hope that he might not blow her cover.
"It's a pleasure to meet you...Madeline," Damon said smoothly, bowing at the waist. Meredith let out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding until he spoke. Relief was what she mostly felt at that moment, but she also remained wary.
Just because the wolf chose not to bite for the time being didn't mean that he could be trusted.
Realizing she hadn't responded right away, Meredith extended a hand as was custom. "The pleasure's all mine," she responded as he brought her hand to his lips. They were cool and lingered longer than was necessary, but she knew it would only raise suspicion if she were to yank her hand back.
"Comment vous ont le fait d'apprécier été votre temps à Rome?" he asked, suddenly switching the language of the conversation. "La ville est tout à fait à couper le souffle cette fois de l'année."
Eyes like dark silk flashed at her challengingly and Meredith knew exactly what he was doing. While he hadn't given away her true identity, he was seeing if she would blow her own cover by not being able to speak French. Irate fury nearly overwhelmed her as she struggled against the urge to glare at him.
Meredith would never have chosen the nationality of a country whose language she didn't speak. The insinuation was an insult to both her common sense and intelligence.
It gave her an immense amount of satisfaction to meet his gaze dead on and reply with complete confidence. "Je crois que je suis tombé amoureux de la ville déjà. La France est belle et mon père m'appellerait blasphématoire, mais je crois que Rome est beaucoup plus jolie." She couldn't help flashing him a triumphant smile.
Damon smirked, but gave a slight nod to concede her minor victory—only to catch her abruptly off-guard by turning to Vivienne. "Would you mind terribly if I stole your lovely friend for a dance, Mrs. Bradford?"
"Of course not," Vivienne said, even though her pale blue eyes nearly turned green with jealousy. "You two have fun."
Meredith was left with no choice except to take Damon's proffered hand. Dancing was the last thing she wanted to do with him. A well-aimed knee in a vulnerable area and a one-way ticket back to whatever corner of Hades he'd crawled out of seemed much more preferable.
Instead she put on a smile and did her best to make it seem like she was delighted to be dancing with a prince. Damon placed a hand on her waist, leading her into a waltz. The emerald skirts of her dress swished like the absently flicked tail of a mermaid as they moved to the music. This close his ethereal beauty was impossible to ignore. Even his movements, while flawless and graceful, held a hint of predatory stealth.
How anyone could have possibly mistaken him for human was beyond Meredith.
"So you decided to take me up on my offer after all," he said mockingly. "I hope the French bit wasn't for my benefit, though. Unless, of course, this little role play involves a maid's uniform and a feather duster..."
Meredith glanced around carefully to ensure they were out of earshot before responding. Angry sparks danced dangerously in her eyes as she managed to keep smiling through sheer force of will. "You're disgusting," she whispered at him furiously. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here?" He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "This is my native country, even if I'm not exactly on any registered voter lists. I'd say that gives me more of a right to ask you what you're doing here, Miss Dubois?"
"It's really none of your business, thank you," Meredith said coolly.
On one hand, she supposed she should be grateful to Damon for not exposing her true identity. If he'd done that, everything she'd so painstakingly arranged would have come crashing down. The chance to destroy the Dark Veritas would be over before it had even begun. Meredith should have felt as though he'd done her a favor by keeping her secret.
Instead she had the distinct impression of being the mouse, spared by the cat for the time-being because he felt an urge to amuse himself.
"What's up with the whole prince routine?" she shot back in an attempt to try and misdirect him.
Damon smirked, clearly pleased with himself. "Sometimes it amuses me to pretend to be one of the living again. I'm guilty of being similar to my little brother in that regard, I suppose. Instead of 'high school student', though, I like to go for something with a bit more grandeur."
"You're pretending to be an Italian prince in an Italian city?" Meredith asked sardonically, marveling at his nerve. "What if someone catches on that there isn't a 'Prince Damien' in the royal family?"
"Then he vanishes overnight, never to be seen again. I'm very skilled at disappearing into the shadows for awhile if necessary. Faking humanity does have its advantages, though."
"Let me guess, your reasons don't involve sunshine and lollipops?"
"Not quite. I was thinking more about all the beautiful women I've had the pleasure of meeting."
"Don't you mean 'victims'?" Meredith replied sweetly. "I'm sure if they knew you were taking them back to your place for an involuntary blood transfusion they wouldn't be quite so willing."
They moved slowly to a soft, melodic concerto that showed no signs of ending any time soon. Meredith normally loved the classics, but in this particular instance she found herself loathing their length. Why were there no bloody classical pieces shorter than ten minutes? She fumed to herself. As it was she was stuck in Damon's arms and forced to act pleased to be there.
"So we both know why I'm pretending to be someone else. What's your excuse?" he asked. "Did you get bored with your dull suburban life?"
Meredith met his gaze contemptuously. It wasn't easy to stare back into those infinitely dark eyes without finding yourself falling into them entirely. They were beautiful and enticing, a cobalt flame dancing in their depths that invited surrender. If all the devils that knocked on your door had eyes like his, she mused thoughtfully, virgin sacrifices would definitely come swiftly back into fashion.
Auspiciously—she wasn't sure how exactly but was eternally grateful—Meredith was immune to the charisma that left every other female a swooning fool. Maybe she just had a natural gift for identifying the snake hidden behind a heart-breaking façade.
"If you must know the truth," Meredith said, her expression completely serious, "I'm here on a top secret mission. If it wasn't a matter of national security I'd definitely tell you all about it—really, I swear."
Damon did not seem amused by her mockery. "You know," he replied in a threatening purr, "I could easily find out for myself." The hand on her waist rose to her face under the pretense of caressing her cheek affectionately. Meredith resisted the urge to flinch as two of his fingers brushed her temple meaningfully.
"Hasn't anyone ever told you that mind-rape is not the best way to get the girl," Meredith said acerbically, "or is that a concept that's a century too new for you?"
An amused smirk lifted the corner of Damon's highly sensual mouth. "You have a sharp tongue on you, dear Madeline. Maybe you should be careful on whom you use it…"
"I'm not afraid of you," she replied boldly. "You might intimidate some people, but I'm not one of them."
"So, you wouldn't mind if I went over and had a chat with Vivienne then? Told her all about who you really are and where you really come from."
Meredith ground her teeth, her forced smile faltering for a moment. Mentally cursing, she realized that he had her cornered. If Damon gave away her true identity before "Madeline" had even established herself in society, her entire charade would be jeopardized. She might as well just pack up her bags tonight and go home. There was no way she could allow that to happen. Thankfully she had the same ace up her sleeve that Damon was attempting to play against her.
"How about we make a deal? You don't give my secret and I won't give away yours."
"Ah, that would be an enticing offer, except for the fact that my make-believe doesn't really matter to me. Playing the part of a prince is nothing more than a fun diversion. I get the impression that your little act isn't quite as meaningless as mine, though. So with more at stake for yourself, it's difficult to 'make a deal', as you put it, without there being something to my advantage."
"What would you want?" Meredith asked tersely.
"At the moment…nothing." The smile Damon gave her was gracious, but his obsidian eyes held only mischief. "I'll pretend you are exactly who you say. Maybe later I'll think of some way you can repay me for doing you a favor."
Fuming inwardly, Meredith tried desperately to think of some dismissive retort. Nothing came to her. The last thing she needed on top of everything else she was trying to accomplish was to have to worry what Damon would do. All she could do was hope that he would keep his word—and purposefully avoid any thoughts of what "repayment" might encompass.
Mercifully, the final notes of the song they were dancing to, dwindled to an end. Meredith extracted herself from Damon's grasp, but he maintained his hold on her hand. When she opened her mouth to demand that he release her, he leaned in to whisper in her ear.
"I'm supposed to accompany you off the dance floor," he said. "It would look odd if I didn't. You should also try not looking quite so miserable. After all, you did just share a dance with a prince."
Meredith reassumed her smile, even though what she really wanted to do was ground the heel of an emerald green pump into his foot. "You're really enjoying yourself aren't you?" she muttered resentfully as they left the dance floor. Damon escorted her back to where Vivienne stood, finally releasing her hand. Her flesh still burned from his touch.
"Thank you very much for the dance, your highness," she managed politely.
Damon bowed, catching her eye in a significant look that Meredith did her best to ignore. "I'd love to spend the rest of the evening with you lovely ladies, but unfortunately I have some other matters to attend to. It was a pleasure to meet you, Madeline. I'm sure we'll run into each other again very soon."
There was no mistaking the implied meaning of his words. Meredith watched him walk away, ruing the day that she had ever had the misfortune of meeting Damon Salvatore. For the time being, she was just was grateful that he was gone. Ideally she'd like to avoid him entirely for the next two weeks, but Meredith decided she would be happy to simply not see him again for the rest of the night.
XXXXXXXXXX
Damon watched her inconspicuously for the remainder of the evening; the raven-haired beauty with a secret she desperately didn't want to reveal. How perfect. Just when he was beginning to bore of playing the part of a prince, along came one of the denizens of Fell's Church to liven things up. It was a pity it wasn't Elena herself or her red-headed friend whose blood he'd nearly tasted, but he wasn't entirely disappointed.
All three of the girls were enticing in their own unique ways. Elena possessed that fair-haired beauty that no man could resist. Bonnie was sweet prettiness personified, with her wide eyes and child-like manner. And then there was Meredith, with her exotic good-looks. Damon's first impression of her had been of a medieval Spanish princess dumped into the mediocrity of modern times.
There was only one reason why he hadn't bothered attempting to use his charm on Meredith. When Damon had arrived in Fell's Church, he'd glanced into each girl's mind to assess who would be easiest to bend to his whim. Both Elena and Bonnie were vulnerable; Bonnie more so than Elena. The little pixie proved to be more than just sugared innocence, clinging to the notion that it would be "romantic" to die young. Once he'd uncovered this bit of knowledge, he knew seducing Bonnie would be as effortless as breathing.
Meredith's mind, on the other hand, was sharper, jagged and harder than the other two girls. It was like granite, impenetrable walls of rock that couldn't be scaled without considerable effort. With one glimpse Damon knew instantly that simple charm wouldn't work on someone like Meredith Sulez. She was essentially immune to his greatest weapon against the fairer sex.
So Damon had chosen to leave Meredith alone during his stay in Fell's Church. It soon became obvious that she wasn't overly fond of him anyways. Leaving each other alone had seemed like an ideal arrangement for both of them.
Now, all of a sudden, the last person he'd expected to see from Fell's Church showed up in Rome pretending to be someone she wasn't. How interesting and intriguing. During their dance, he'd thought several times about simply reaching into Meredith's mind to pluck out the truth. In the end, though, he'd decided against it.
That would ruin all the fun.
While Damon hadn't delved deeply into Meredith's mind, he had cheated a little by reading her surface thoughts. It took a minor amount of effort for him to do so. Humans were constantly thinking about whatever was bothering them the most; round and round their worries went like a hamster on a wheel. For Damon, picking up what was most predominantly on a human's mind took all the effort of tuning into a particular radio station. A couple flicks of a mental dial and he was able to read them as clearly as a radio broadcast.
Throughout the course of their dance, Meredith's thoughts had initially consisted of how much she loathed him—until other worries had begun to float to the foremost of her mind as well. One thought in particular had especially tweaked Damon's interest. It was a mystery he spent the rest of the evening puzzling over.
How in the hell did a small town girl from Virginia think it was her duty to destroy the Dark Veritas?
Damon (French) : How have you been enjoying your time in Rome? The city is so breath-taking this time of year.
Meredith (French) : I think I've fallen in love with the city already. France is beautiful and my father would call me blasphemous, but I think Rome is much prettier.