A/N: Oooohh, an update! Yes, I have finally figured out what to do with this story, so it will now definitely be continued and I'm actually getting excited about it. Also, with the way the show's going, I needed to work on this a little in order to feed my need for Delena fluffiness ;) Alright, hope you enjoy it.

The second chapter, in which a princess falls in love with a cook

The doorbell rang and Elena bounded down the staircase to answer it. She was waiting for Vicky who was, not surprisingly, unfashionably late and so she didn't stop to look at the security screen before opening the heavy wooden doors. To her surprise she wasn't met by Vicky's wide smile but by that of a shorter girl with dark skin and green eyes, who was wearing a sorry excuse for a shirt (it looked more like a bra to Elena) and too tight, low-cut pants, leaving her toned midriff bare. Elena frowned at the half-naked stranger.

"Yes?" she asked, eyeing the girl up and down.

"Is Damon here?" the girl returned, not seeming perturbed in the slightest.

"And you are?" Elena demanded. To be honest she had no idea where Damon was, he was a master at keeping out of sight. In the few days he had been with them, she had only seen him a very few times, and never for very long. "He's like your own personal Ninja," Vicki had said and Elena had to agree that that was kind of the case. You never saw him, but she was sure that he'd be there in an instant, should he be needed.

"Bonnie!" She heard his voice exclaim happily from behind her, appearing out of nowhere as usual. "You're early," he stated.

"Yes, my last client was done sooner than I expected," the girl replied, smiling at him widely.

"Well that's just perfect," he returned, his voice heavy with innuendo. "I can't wait to feel your hands on me." Elena turned to him and stared in utter shock. This man had invited a prostitute to her house. And he was being callous about it. Elena turned her wide eyes back to the woman standing in her doorway. The duffle bag she carried on her shoulder was undoubtedly filled with all sorts of nasty toys. Elena couldn't believe this was happening.

"I will make you sweat for me first," the girl answered him with a wink, not acknowledging Elena's presence in the slightest.

"Follow me," he said and turned around to lead his 'guest' away, most likely to his room. Elena couldn't help but gape at the pair. She was in shock and horrified at what they were planning on doing under her roof.

"Uhm… excuse me, Mr. Salvatore?" She finally spoke meekly, catching his attention before he could leave the foyer. He turned around and threw her a bemused smile. "Do you have a minute?" she asked, her voice now stronger and more demanding.

"Of course," he answered. "Just go ahead Bonnie, I'll be right there." The other woman smiled and disappeared through the door. "How can I help you?" He asked, walking up to Elena with a smirk that told her he knew exactly what she wanted to talk to him about.

"Well I…" she started. She was flustered, not knowing how to go about this conversation. She couldn't believe he was making her have it with him. How dare he put her in such an uncomfortable position?

"Yes?" he drawled, clearly enjoying putting her ill at ease.

"I just… wanted you to know that I do not appreciate you having… guests over." She stammered.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he replied. "I wasn't aware. In my contract it doesn't state that I can't entertain company. And I actually asked Mr. Lockwood if Bonnie could come over and he said it was no problem." He looked at her with a willfully innocent expression.

"Mason said it was okay?" Elena asked, befuddled. He just nodded. "Well, I'm sure there's a misunderstanding," she soldiered on. "I mean, you are working. This is… inappropriate."

"Why? She is also working. We'll be… working together," he smiled at her triumphantly.

Elena stared at him in disbelief. "Alright," she mustered up all her courage. "Let me be clearer… I do not want women like her in my house."

"Women like her?" Damon looked at her in mock shock and then lowered his voice to a mere whisper. "Do you have a problem with her skin color, Mrs. Lockwood?" Elena flushed bright red at the horrid insinuation. She wanted to slap him but didn't dare. She knew he could physically overpower her without even trying and she didn't trust him enough to test his patience.

"Of course not!" she exclaimed. "How dare you… I donate money to that school that Madonna built in Africa!" He couldn't hold back the amused smile spreading across his face. "I voted for Obama!" She exclaimed and now he was right-out laughing. Elena grew even angrier but decided to take the high road. He was in the wrong here; making her uncomfortable was only his way of trying to get out of this without being fired. She composed herself again and spoke with a more level voice. "No I meant women of the… carnal profession."

Damon couldn't hold back anymore and felt a single tear forming in the corner of his eye, pressed out from his laughing so hard. He took a few deep breaths to regain his composure. Elena looked at him with pure hatred in her eyes. "The 'carnal profession'," he stated with a teasing smile. "Well, I've never heard it called that before."

"Well whatever you want to call it," she said dismissively.

"Well, I would call it being a personal trainer," he said with a smirk, gleefully waiting for her reaction.

Elena stared at him for what seemed to be a very long time. "Excuse me?" she finally managed to ask.

"She is my personal trainer," he answered, raising the voice at the end of the sentence the way teenagers do when relaying facts that should have been obvious to everyone. "We have sessions every Monday and Friday. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I will of course meet her at the gym…"

Elena still hadn't recovered. "But… the… you said with… her hands on you…" she stammered.

"Oh, that… well, she is a masseuse as well. And a really good one, too. I think she has magical hands," he added in a soft voice. "If you want, I'll ask her to give you a massage as well. Work all that tension out of you. I'm sure she'd be happy to."

"No thank you," Elena answered with a small voice.

"Alright. Well, I better get going," Damon said smiling. "I have to get started on that 'carnal' workout I've heard so much about." And with a wink he was gone.

Elena stood in the foyer, unable to move from the shock. The longer she stood there, the angrier she got. He had played and humiliated her. Who did he think he was, letting her make false assumptions and not clearing them up right away, leaving her in a very uncomfortable and awkward position? She was seething, when she heard the doorbell ring again. With a few quick steps she stood at the door and pulled it open again, meeting the visitor with an angry expression on her face.

"Elena!" Vicki called, smiling widely. Then she registered the look on her sister in law's face. "What's wrong?" she asked, taking off the huge sunglasses that were covering up her hung over eyes.

"Ugh, nothing!" Elena fumed. "Just that security guy is unbelievable!"

"Yes, unbelievably sexy," the other woman said with a wink. Elena just shook her head and the two headed up the stairs since Vicki had come over today to go through Elena's closet with her, helping her pick out old clothes to give to charity. When they passed the upstairs hallway-window looking out over the backyard, Elena heard her friend exclaim: "Oh my lord! Is this man ever not working out?"

When Elena turned around at this, she saw the other woman glued to the window glass. Outside, Damon was training with the girl Elena had met only moments ago. She had to admit that the short shirt was quite obviously a sports bra. Also, she had never before seen a prostitute in sneakers. Come to think of it, Elena had no idea why she had ever thought it in the first place. She only grew more embarrassed. The pair in the backyard were training hard, both concentrated on the session, nothing of the flirty banter that had made Elena think the woman was here for something else. The trainer was short and slim, but obviously very fit. Her arms and legs seemed to be made up of pure muscle. She held up two sparring pads and circled Damon, who was wearing sweat pants, boxing gloves and nothing else.

"And always with the being shirtless…" Vicki pseudo complained. "How are you not constantly sexually frustrated?" she asked in disbelief.

"His being an ass helps," Elena retorted, earning nothing but an annoyed huff from her friend.

She had to admit, he was sexy. His skin glistened in the afternoon sun; every single one of his fast movements was precise and forceful. The muscles in his back tightened and released quickly as his arm shot forward, meeting the red cushions held up by his sparring partner. Suddenly he leaned back slightly and then propelled himself up in the air, executing a roundhouse-kick only inches from the woman's face. Elena couldn't help but marvel at the precision and the power she could sense even from this far away. His leg high in the air, completely straight, his eyes never leaving his target. She was sure he could probably kill with his bare hands. She saw his trainer flinch at the proximity of his foot and stumble backwards. After landing securely, he started laughing and extended his hand to the woman who had tumbled to the ground, helping her back up while she was seemingly yelling at him. But Elena could tell they were both laughing.

"Show-off," she huffed.

"He could pretend-kick me anytime," Vicki purred.

"God, woman, get a grip!" Elena laughed.

The women spent the afternoon in Elena's dressing room, going through her old clothes and gossiping about the other ladies on the town's Founders Council, until Elena's phone began to ring as the sun started to set. It was Mason. Elena sighed. If her husband called now that meant that he would not be home in time for dinner.

"Long day at work?" she asked by way of a greeting.

"Yes pumpkin, I'm so sorry." Elena cringed at the nickname. She had never been able to make him stop calling her that. "Can you do me a favor?" he asked.

"Sure, what do you need?" Elena asked, ever the understanding wife.

"I forgot a document in my office. Could you fax me a copy?" Elena sighed, excused herself to Vicki and wandered down the stairs into her husband's office. "It's the one in the blue folder on my desk." Elena grabbed the papers and fed them to the fax machine on her husband's desk.

"Mason, you know that François has tonight off. You were supposed to bring dinner from that vegan restaurant. I don't want Jenna and Jeremy to grow up on take-out."

"I know pumpkin and I'm really so sorry. It's just tonight I really can't. Just order a salad or something." Elena was too used to these conversations to get annoyed.

"Fine," she huffed.

"I got the fax, thank you. I'll see you later."

"Okay. Oh, by the way," Elena added, "from now on I want to be involved in the hiring. No more you deciding on who works for us without consulting me."

"Sure sure," came the hurried reply. It was obvious Mason had things to do that he deemed more important. "I'll see you later."

They hung up and Elena left the office, heading back towards the staircase to join Vicki in her room.

"Mrs. Lockwood?" came his velvety voice from right behind her. Her breath caught in her throat. Was this man everywhere?

"Yes?" She turned around, her arms crossed over her chest, her chin stuck out defiantly.

He smiled at her, taking another step in her direction, encroaching on her personal space. "I wanted to apologize. For earlier today. It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable."

"Yes it was," she replied. His smile widened in acknowledgement of her sass.

"Alright, yes it was," he admitted with a smirk. "But I only tease because I know you can take it." He winked at her.

"Well, whether I can take it or not, it is still extremely bad manners," she scolded.

He looked at her for a second, a glint in his eyes that Elena couldn't place. "You are right," he finally conceded, apparently deciding against fighting her. "And again, I am sorry."

Elena considered his apology for a while before adding: "It is also very bad manners to eavesdrop."

"Well, it's not eavesdropping when someone speaks on the phone loudly with the door open and you happen to hear them as you pass by… perchance, if you will." He grinned cockily.

"You just have a smart reply to everything, don't you?" She questioned, hoping she sounded thoroughly annoyed.

"Pretty much, yes." He kept the smug grin in place. Elena sighed and turned around, walking back up the stairs. "Oh Mrs. Lockwood?" he called after her.

"Yes, Mr. Salvatore?"

"I also couldn't help but hear about your dinner situation tonight."

"Yes?" She furrowed her brows.

"If you want to, I can cook," he offered.

"You cook?" she asked in disbelief.

"I'm Italian," came his nonchalant reply.

"Is that supposed to be an answer to my question?" she asked haughtily.

He chuckled slightly, a warm, friendly sound, none of the usual snark left in his voice. "It is. I promise, I can beat your take-out menu any time."

Elena considered his offer for only a second. "Alright, you may wow us with your culinary expertise," she replied, smiling as well, before turning around and walking back up the stairs.

"And he cooks, too," she said after making sure she closed the door to her room behind her.

"Hm?" Vicki looked up from a magazine she was leafing through.

"The security guy. He is cooking us dinner," Elena elaborated.

"No!" Vicki dropped the magazine to her knees. "This is getting ridiculous! Are you sure he is human?" the woman questioned.

"We will never know for sure," Elena jokingly replied.

"Alright, well, I am definitely having dinner with you tonight!" Elena only laughed.

The next time the women were disturbed by a ringing phone it was Vicki's. Tyler apparently had to work late as well. Vicki listened to her husband's explanation, rolled her eyes for Elena's benefit and then launched into a stream of more and less plausible accusations about how he was always working late and definitely having an affair and how she hoped his secretary (who was undoubtedly the other woman) gave him crabs and how he better not dare to sleep with her and pass the nasty disease on to her. Elena blushed furiously and walked out of the room quickly. Exiled by her friend's utter lack of a sense of propriety. Yet again. It wasn't like this was the first time the couple was having this exact same argument. She shook her head and went down the stairs to check on dinner. When she entered the dining room that was connected to the kitchen, she was startled by the sound of her children's voices. At this time of the day they were supposed to be in their room with their nanny, doing math problems disguised as funny stories to further their academic aptitude. She shook her head in disapproval but stopped just outside the door and spied around the corner to see what was going on. The man in charge of her protection was standing by the stove, wearing casual jeans and a black long-sleeve, a green-checkered towel haphazardly thrown over his shoulder. Her nanny was sitting at the kitchen console with her son, supervising his work of cutting cherry-tomatoes and her daughter was standing next to the impromptu chef, pushed up on her toes to see what he was doing on the stove.

"Miss sous-chef, would you hand me the pomodori please?" he asked, smiling down and the strawberry-blonde girl that was looking at him with admiration. Elena saw her daughter turn around and eagerly sprint to the center-console in the middle of the room where her brother was diligently working on the last remaining tomatoes.

"Jeremy, I need the pomodori!" she exclaimed and Elena couldn't help the smile that spread over her face at her daughter's enthusiasm.

"I'll take them myself!" her son replied with determination, grabbing the bowl with the diced tomatoes and climbing laboriously down the barstool he had been sitting on.

"But Damon told ME to get them!" the girl protested furiously.

"No arguing in the kitchen!" Damon said authoritatively but with a warm tone to his voice. "The kitchen is a place of family and harmony. And also a place of sharp objects. So we don't fight in the kitchen, got it?" The two children nodded their heads eagerly. "Alright then. Who wants to help me season the veal?" Two hands shot up immediately and Damon chuckled lightly, throwing a look in the direction of the nanny who was equally giggling in her seat. "How about one of you helps me with the veal and the other helps Miss Caroline with the salad? She's much prettier anyways."

"No, she's not," Elena heard her daughter say quietly, a serious expression on her face.

"I will make the salad with Miss Caroline!" her son exclaimed. "I think she is much prettier than you!" And with those words he marched off, joining his nanny at the kitchen table.

Damon let out a hearty laugh. "Aren't you a charmer!" he called after the little boy who was struggling to climb back on the barstool. "Alright Princess Jenna, looks like I will be teaching you the fine art of seasoning." The girl looked at him with elation and he picked her up and positioned her on his hip, holding her securely in place with his right arm while he reached for the big pepper mill with his free hand, handing it to her. On a tray he had laid out several filets and he was now holding the girl over these while she used all the strength in her little arms to twist the top of the oversized pepper mill. Caroline and Jeremy were slicing more vegetables for the salad, quietly discussing the book the nanny had been reading to the children for the past week.

"Are you married, Damon?" Jenna asked, still concentrating on the peppermill in her hands.

"No, I am not," he answered with a bit of amusement in his voice. "Are you?"

"No. But if you want to you can marry me," the girl replied earnestly, handing the mill back to him.

"How about we wait until you're old enough to get married and then if you still want to marry me, we'll talk again?" he suggested, putting the pepper back in its place and reaching for another spice.

"Alright," Jenna conceded with a smile.

Elena looked at the scene before her and a sudden inexplicable sadness fell over her. She loved her children dearly, but she had never been able to build up an easy rapport with them the way Caroline and apparently even Damon could. She knew she wasn't a good mother, mainly because Mason had made sure to tell her that before their children were even born. "It doesn't matter," he had said. "It's okay if you care more about your charity work and your social commitments. That's who you are. And I love you just the way you are," he had assured her, placing a fatherly kiss on her forehead. She had always told herself that it was better for her kids if she stayed away, if she let professionals handle their upbringing and education. She had never felt ready and had only gotten pregnant because Mason had wanted children. She loved the little whirlwinds, but to be quite honest she didn't know them very well. She had always thought that that was probably normal. Had figured that adults in general had a hard time connecting with children and that people who had the ability to understand them had to have had elaborate training, like her nanny Caroline. Watching the disdain with which her friends Vicki, Dana or Aimee regarded any kids they came across in the streets had reinforced her belief. She had been sure that the special relationship she had had with her parents had been a rare thing but she couldn't remember them well enough to figure out how their rapport with her had been so natural when she felt constantly intimidated by her own children's presence, their questions and their fragility. But the way Damon, this dangerous man that she herself was intimidated by, handled them and formed an instant connection with them made her doubt her previous convictions and she wondered if there was indeed something wrong with her, if maybe she simply was a bad mother. Damon's voice ripped her from her musings.

"Good job!" he complimented the girl on his arm who was now sporting a proud smile. "Your mommy will be so proud of you."

Elena used this moment to gather her courage and slowly saunter into the kitchen, clearing her throat to make her presence known.

"Mommy!" her son exclaimed, climbing off the high stool again and running up to her. She got this reaction from him every time; he was still at the age where even bad mothers were loved infinitely and unquestioningly and she was thankful for it. She opened her arms and gathered him up into a hug, letting him throw his legs around her waist and cling to her with a big grin. "I cut the pomori in quarters!" he stated proudly.

"Did you?" Elena said, smiling at him.

"It's pomodori!" Jenna corrected her brother.

"I cut the pomodori in quarters," he repeated indignantly. "Do you know why they're called quarters, mommy?"

"Tell me," she said, slowly walking up to the stove to inspect the meal being prepared.

"Because I cut them in four pieces and four in Latinian is called quartis and so every one of the four pieces is a quarter. Right, Miss Caroline?" he looked to his nanny for approval.

"Close enough," the blonde woman said with a wide smile and a wink.

"So you're learning Latin now?" his mother asked, raising an eyebrow.

"And Italian!" he exclaimed with a nod of the head.

"Is that right?" she said with a smile, throwing a look in the direction of her security guard who was eyeing her carefully, probably trying to figure out if he had again overstepped any boundaries. "And what did Mr. Salvatore teach you?"

"Ciao bella!" her son exclaimed, before blowing her a kiss and smiling widely. She looked at him with wide eyes and then turned her shocked expression to the man standing by the stove and chuckling to himself.

"This is the first thing you teach my son?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No, the first thing I taught him was 'pomodoro'. That was the second thing," he replied with a self-assured smile and a wink in her direction.

Elena swallowed down her comeback. She would have to talk to him about this at a later time. As she would have to talk to Caroline about abandoning the math lessons. But she never argued in front of her kids, this much she had learned from reading books on parenting.

"Mommy, Damon is teaching me how to season the meat," Jenna said with a small smile, sensing her mother's annoyance. "And he says I'm a princess," she added with a bigger smile.

"Well, Mr. Salvatore" Elena stressed his last name, wanting her kids to refer to their employees by their last names as was proper, "certainly knows that princesses don't cook for themselves." Jenna's face fell and for a second Elena regretted her comment. But then she only got more annoyed with the man holding her daughter. He was not supposed to make her children do chores.

"Alright kids, let's go upstairs and finish our fun stories before dinner, alright?" Caroline interrupted, sensing the thick atmosphere. Damon sighed and put Jenna down on the floor without taking his disapproving eyes off Elena's face. The children were smart enough to leave the room, hoping their mother would calm down by the time dinner was ready and so they shuffled out of the door behind their nanny.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Damon spoke: "You really are determined to suck the fun out of everything, aren't you?" he said in a scolding tone.

"Excuse me? My children are not kitchen help." Elena retorted.

"Neither am I," he said in a quiet but intimidating voice, taking a step closer to her, leaning over her menacingly.

"I didn't ask you to cook. You offered." Elena pointed out.

"Just because you don't have to cook it doesn't mean you shouldn't." He then decided on a different approach and his facial expression changed from dark to challenging. "It's about the sensual and communal experience. Cooking with the whole family, smelling the spices, tasting the fresh produce," he held a cherry probably intended for dessert up to Elena's lips. She only glared at him in return. Suddenly realization flicked across his face. "You haven't cooked a day in your life, have you?" he asked, almost in disbelief.

Elena hesitated for a moment before answering: "No, and I don't…" But Damon didn't let her finish.

"Oh, you're in for such a treat," he said with a smile she could only interpret as gleeful. "I was going to show Jenna how to season the sauce with fresh herbs, but now you'll get the pleasure of being taught."

"I really d…" Elena started to protest but was interrupted again.

"Mrs. Lockwood?" her nanny's shaky voice came from the doorway. Elena turned around, embarrassed at the position her employee had found her in. Her embarrassment changed into worry the minute she caught sight of the woman's face, however. The blonde in front of her was pale and looked visibly shaken.

"What is it, Miss Forbes?" she asked, her dispute with the man standing next to her suddenly the last thing on her mind.

"I found this in the children's room," the woman said, holding up a folded piece of paper.

Elena took the paper and unfolded it, scanning the computer written lines with her eyes, before feeling her knees buckle under her slightly.

NOW YOU KNOW WE CAN GET IN.

IF YOU WANT TO PROTECT YOUR FAMILY, WIRE 5 MILLION DOLLARS TO THE FOLLOWING BANK ACCOUNT:

Elena felt her legs give out and she tried to grab the counter top to steady herself. Before she could drop to the ground, however, she was held up by a strong arm encircling her waist and stabilizing her suddenly fragile body.

"What's going on?" the security guard holding her asked. Elena only held up her hand that was clutching the fatal paper, too weak to speak. Without letting go of her, he read the note quickly. He then dropped the paper wordlessly onto the kitchen console, bent slightly in the knees and picked the woman up from the ground, holding her in stable arms. Elena had never felt this way before. Her entire body was numb. She felt like she wasn't able to move a single muscle in her body. She wanted to cry, wanted to do something useful, wanted to call her husband, wanted to rush up the stairs and check on her children, but she couldn't do either of those things. She could only let this man carry her out of the kitchen and into the parlor and let him put her down on one of the sofas. She started shaking now. She figured that she was probably in shock, but still the utter loss of control over her body scared her. Damon lifted her feet up, resting them on a pile of pillows, before pulling a woolen blanket over her shivering body. She looked at him with pleading eyes and he looked right back at her, his blue eyes reflecting the strength and determination that she couldn't feel in her own body right now and that did wonders to reassure her.

"Miss Forbes, could you prepare Mrs. Lockwood a cup of tea and get her some water please?" he said in a surprisingly calm voice. The blonde woman was visibly in need of comfort as well but nodded, glad she had a purpose now and headed for the kitchen. Damon headed up the stairs and came back with Jenna on his arm and Jeremy on his other hand only moments later. The children looked confused but thankfully not scared. The minute Jeremy saw his mother lying on the couch he started gunning for her and jumped up on the sofa, cuddling up next to her.

"What's wrong mommy?"

"Nothing," she simply said, not knowing how to reassure him, feeling so unsure herself. So she just held him close and pressed a kiss to his hair. Damon put Jenna down and Elena held out her hand, signaling for her daughter to join her on the couch. The little girl hesitated only a second before jumping up next to her brother.

"Are you okay, mommy?" she asked.

"Yes, of course," she replied, trying to sound as unconcerned as possible. "I only had a little fright. But now you guys are here so I'm perfect." She forced a little smile on her face.

Damon fished his phone from his pocket and dialed, waiting for the other end of the line to pick up. "Mr. Lockwood, I'm sorry but you need to come home right away, please," he stated politely but firmly. "No, I'm afraid you really need to come home this instant." Elena could tell her husband was reluctant but when the security guard hung up the phone he gave her a reassuring smile. "You're husband's on his way," he stated, before heading out of the room to call the police.

Caroline came back into the living room, handing Elena a glass of water and a cup of tea. Now that she had gotten over the first shock, Elena felt better. She smiled thankfully at her nanny and sat up to take the steaming cup from her hands. In that moment she heard Vicki enter the parlor, heaving a heavy sigh while clicking her cell phone shut.

"Really, that man! I don't know why I put up with him," she stated in exasperation, plopping down on an armchair opposite Elena. The whole room was quiet and she looked around, taking a few moments to realize that no one was going to ask her to elaborate. This led her to the assumption that something had to be the matter. "What's going on?" she asked, now somewhat concerned.

A/N: And so the plot thickens. Haha. Alright, I know it took a long time for me to update and that's because I'm really into my other story "Second Chances" right now, but I got such sweet and nice reviews on this one that it inspired me to take a break from that story and work on this one for a bit. So you see what power you have ;) Please let me know if you liked it (or if you didn't. I only learn if you tell me what I'm doing wrong). Love to the world, Dawn