A/N: Surprise update! You guys! I'm actually really still working on my other story "Second Chances" but recently I've been getting quite a few reviews for this one and they have been so kind and touching. And so when I actually reached 200 reviews on this, I figured I had to do something to say thank you. So here I am with a new chapter, thanking you all soooooo much! You're the bestest :)
Alright here we go. Two asides: 1. I don't own TVD. What else is new. 2. It's almost midnight so if you find any spelling mistakes or weird uses of preositions, that would be why ;) enjoy!
The fourteenth chapter, in which decisions are made
Elena was sitting at the breakfast table, her mind still clouded from too little sleep and too many conflicting thoughts. The day outside was grey and only a wan light seeped into the suite through the white curtains. The wall lamp hanging near the table did nothing to brighten the atmosphere. Almost inaudible raindrops were blown against the windows by a slight breeze. At least her children were there. Barely seeing them the day before had been surprisingly difficult and spending this time with them before her husband would surely insist the nanny take them to their room and practice reading with them, again leaving Elena to her own devices and infinite boredom, was a great relief. She planned on crashing the kids' study session as soon as Mason had gone to work. Spending another day by herself was simply not an option.
"Mommy, can we have Mickey Mouse pancakes instead?" Jeremy asked her, pulling her from her thoughts.
"Mickey Mouse pancakes?" Mason questioned before Elena had a chance to answer. "What are those?" He was apparently intrigued enough to drop the newspaper he'd been reading so far.
"They're big pancakes with little pancakes on their side so they look like Mickey Mouse ears," Jenna explained dutifully. "Damon makes them." Jeremy only nodded enthusiastically.
"Elena, I thought we agreed we would address the staff by their last names," Mason stated, disappointment in his voice.
Elena was spared having to answer by her son's insistence. "Can we dad? Please?"
Mason heaved an annoyed sigh. "These are round Spongebob Squarepants pancakes, okay? Now eat." He lifted the newspaper back up, effectively shutting out his family.
"Spongebob Squarepants can't be round, daddy!" Jeremy giggled. "I want Mickey Mouse pancakes!"
"Well you can't have any," Mason returned without looking up from his reading.
"Daddy!" Jeremy insisted, a wide grin still on his face, pulling on his father's sleeve in a game of who could be more persistent. "Come on, Damon always makes us Mickey Mouse pancakes!"
"For God's sake, Jeremy," Mason burst out, dropping his newspaper onto the table with such force that the plates clattered and his glass of water tumbled over and spilled across the table cloth. A maid immediately rushed over to clear away the food that had been soaked and bring Mason a new glass of water. "There are no Mickey Mouse pancakes today. Now be quiet." Jeremy's playful mood vanished instantly. He looked up at his father with big eyes, unable to comprehend what had gone wrong. "Seriously, Elena?" Mason asked, turning to his wife with a chiding look. "You guys are gone for a few days and you lose all control over them? I thought we agreed on teaching them respect for their parents."
"This is tough for them, Mason. We just tried to make the situation as pleasant as possible. He's not being disrespectful. He just doesn't understand why he suddenly can't have his pancakes anymore."
"You're too easy on them, Elena. They need to learn discipline."
"He was just asking about pancakes," she argued exasperatedly. "Don't turn this into something it isn't."
He stared at her with ice cold eyes. She could practically feel his disapproval radiate from them. "Kids, go to your room," he stated, his eyes never leaving his wife. Jenna and Jeremy quietly got up and hurriedly left the table. From the corner of her eye, Elena could see her daughter lingering in the doorway uncertainly before disappearing. She returned her husband's glare unflinchingly.
"I don't know what's going on," he started coldly, "but it's unacceptable. I won't tolerate you undermining my authority in front of the kids. When we had them, we agreed to always put up a united front and only because you seem to have suddenly found an interest in our children, I will not allow you to position yourself with them against me. I provide for you all, I feed you and clothe you and protect you and I will not be ridiculed. Are we clear?"
Elena swallowed, trying hard to keep her nerves under control. "Mason, that's not…"
"Are we clear?" he interrupted her forcefully.
"Yes," she replied, her voice weaker than she wanted it to be.
"You've been distant ever since we got back," he continued, his voice somewhat softening. "I know you're under a lot of emotional stress, but so am I. This is a difficult time but we can only make it through if we stick together, alright?"
Elena nodded, not daring to speak for fear of losing her tight grip on the tears she felt slowly gather behind her eyes, squeezing her throat where she suppressed them with all her might.
"I have to go to work. I suggest you get some rest, you look a little pale." With that he dropped the paper to his son's chair and got up from his seat, walking over to the sideboard where his briefcase was waiting. Elena sat quietly at the table, not daring to move until he had left.
"Be ready for the ball by eight," he stated business-like while packing the last documents. When he was done, he walked over to her and pressed a kiss against the crown of her head. "And be in a better mood," he added, his lips still buried in her hair. "It's for charity. The press will be there."
When the door fell shut behind her husband, Elena could no longer hold back her tears. She was thankful that her children weren't there to see her. She was utterly confused, unsure of whether she cried from anger or sadness, whether his patronizing tone was the reason for her rage or rather her disappointment in her own incapability of standing up to him.
After the talk she had had with Bonnie the night before, her emotions had already been a complete mess and this morning's breakfast had done nothing to settle them. It had however helped her to come up with an answer to the question her bodyguard and new friend had asked her. She now knew exactly what she had to do.
Elena stood in front of the mirror and tried to decide on a dress. She wished she could be eleven again and fit into the black long-sleeved dress she had worn to her parents' funeral. It had been like a protective armor: Look at that poor little girl in the black dress – she just lost both her parents. No one had dared talk to her all day. She wished she could do this now, wrap herself in a cloak that people didn't dare penetrate. She didn't feel up to the challenge of standing in the ballroom downstairs, shaking hands with strangers and talking to them about the important work this charity did. She couldn't even remember what it was. She hoped it had at least something to do with children – it made caring easier. She normally cared about all the charities she rallied for. She hated not caring about this one.
As she looked at herself in the mirror with disgust, she heard a soft knock on the door and Mason entered the bathroom, already looking dapper in a black suit. Why does he get to wear black? She wondered in annoyancy.
"Are you about ready?" he asked, crossing over to her and letting his hand stroke her bathrobe-covered back lightly while looking at her face in the mirror. Her hair and make-up were already done. Her eyes sparkled underneath dark lashes and her lips glowed in a warm red, hiding the fact that she felt lifeless and anemic.
"Yes, I'll just be a minute. I can't pick a dress," she explained with a strained smile.
"We'll be waiting outside," Mason informed her in a soft tone before pressing a kiss to her temple. "Wear something pretty for me," he added with a smile before exiting the room.
She was sure it was meant to be encouraging but it made her feel almost ill. She wished she could simply claim a migraine and lie in bed with the blanket pulled over her head all night. She didn't want to look pretty for Mason, the thought alone made something in her gut curl. She didn't want to draw his appreciative gaze upon her figure, didn't want to encourage his hands to linger on a slab of exposed skin. She pulled the robe tighter around her body.
Suddenly, she heard a woman's laugh coming from the other room, muffled by the thick walls and door but still recognizable as Bonnie's. 'We', as Mason had referred to the group waiting for her outside, included Bonnie and – as she was sure now – Damon. Her heart-rate suddenly picked up. Damon was here, standing only a few feet from her. She would see him, talk to him and spend the evening with him. He would be by her side all night because he had to protect her.
Suddenly fidgety, she left the bathroom quickly and crossed the en-suite bedroom to get to her dressing room. The maids had brought all her dresses with them and hung them here, one dazzling gown next to another, just waiting for her to pick one and slip into it. She let her hands trawl across the plastic bags holding the valuable garments. She had hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of dresses at her disposal but suddenly they all seemed insufficient. She wished she had a dress she had never worn before, one she could wear just for him. All of a sudden she did want to look nice, but not for her husband, for her bodyguard. She felt shame rise up in her chest but she forbade it to gain any hold amongst her emotions. She didn't have much left that she wanted or hoped for. But she did want to look beautiful for the man she loved – and she wouldn't feel bad about it.
It was then she figured out exactly which dress she wanted to wear. She had bought it for the opening gala of the Mystic Falls Museum of Modern Art and never got to wear it since that had been the night she had been attacked and they left for the beach house the very next morning. She finally found the Zuhair Murad garment bag and unwrapped the dress. She had been excited to wear it for weeks before the gala and then, on the beach, she had simply forgotten about it – had forgotten about all her expensive dresses and fancy jewelry – but tonight she would wear it.
She smoother her hand over the silken purple cloth and along the beaded details before stepping into it and fastening the gown tightly around her body. She instantly felt better. There was something about dressing formally that made her feel protected. It was like wearing a costume. The make-up, the high heels, the sparkling diamonds, the excessively overprized dresses – it removed her image from her person and made it easier to endure the staring and the superficiality. It made it easier for her to play her role. She inspected herself one last time in the mirror. She knew exactly why she had bought this dress. The bodice was fashioned of intricate lace, intertwined with subtle beading that sparked up for a second when the light hit it just right. Broad bands of silk were slung around it and draped across her bosom and midriff, hiding what needed to be hidden but letting the idea of skin peek through the underlying lace. It wrapped around her waist tightly, making her seem slimmer than she thought she was and was fastened in a bow low on her hip. From there the skirt was slit open, letting her long leg protrude alluringly while the shiny cloth plunged smoothly towards the ground where it pooled around her feet. With one last look over the shoulder into the mirror she stepped into her heels, grabbed her purse and left the room.
When she had crossed the bedroom and stood in front of the door leading towards the hallway at the end of which her husband and bodyguards were waiting in the living room, she had to take another moment to breathe in deeply and slow down her heart. It was beating maniacally in her ribcage, pumping the blood so fast she felt dizzy. Slowly she turned the doorknob and made her way down the dark corridor towards the warm light waiting for her at its end, apprehension and thrill warring within her.
Her husband was the first one to come into view. He stood near the opening of the hallway and poured himself a glass of something alcoholic as she approached. He heard her footsteps on the thick carpet and lifted his head to look upon her in appreciation, a smile creeping onto his face.
"There she is," he announced, stretching out his arm to welcome her into his embrace and the living room.
The next person she saw was Bonnie. She looked stunning in a one-shoulder floor-length dress in a dark gold hue. When Elena entered the room, she instantly got up from the couch she had been sitting on and let her eyes dart to the opposite side of the room. Elena followed them almost unconsciously and finally her own landed on the man she had been longing to see. Damon was standing by the window, one hand leaning on the sill, his other resting in the pocket of his pants. He was wearing a black suit, just as Mason was, but somehow Elena thought he looked infinitely better in it. Mason's blonde curl and boyishly slanted eyes always made it seem like he was better suited for jeans and a t-shirt and trying too hard to pull off a suit. Damon with his black hair and intense power behind his eyes looked like he was born to wear a suit.
When her eyes met his, she felt the weight of her yearning sink upon her shoulders. He had to have been looking out the window before she arrived but now his attention was entirely focused on her. Within seconds she was able to tell the difference between the way her husband looked upon her and the way Damon did in this moment. Her husband appreciated her beauty in the same way he appreciated the smooth curves of his Porsche. Objectively. It made him proud to be seen with her. Damon's eyes held something else entirely. The awe and desire made her skin prickle and at the same time she saw a sadness in them that pulled at her soaring heart, threatening to plunge it into despair.
"Let's go," she heard her husband say next to her, resting his hand on her lower back heavily, making her feel trapped with the slightest of touches. She tore her eyes away from Damon's and followed her husband's command.
The small group made its way down the hallway and into the elevator. Elena kept her features schooled and her eyes away from Damon as a way of self-preservation. Her racing pulse and flat breath made her fear that she wouldn't be able to look at him without crumbling. All the while she was sure she felt his gaze on her back, sliding along her neck and over her bare shoulders. She wanted desperately to turn around and look at him.
When they reached the ground floor, they were greeted by a throng of people chatting in the foyer and slowly parading through the open door towards the ball room. Bonnie and Damon were instantly on high alert. The shorter girl hooked her arm around her companion's casually, but their eyes darted everywhere, registering every movement, scanning every guest. They sauntered into the brightly lit hall and lingered for a second atop the wide staircase, taking in the brightly lit and illustriously filled dance floor. Elena could make out some of their friends and some of her husband's business partners, standing in clusters around the room, laughing and sipping champagne. When Mason spotted Tyler and Vicki by the large doors leading onto the terrace, he started moving again, pulling Elena with him.
"Smile, there are cameras everywhere," Mason whispered into Elena's ear and led by good example, putting on a wide grin himself. Elena dutifully curved her lips, hoping it was convincing enough to fool her friends.
Luckily, she didn't have much to worry about with Vicki who paid little attention to her mood and went straight to gushing about being back in 'civilization'. She had missed parties and her closet immensely, she lamented, and didn't Elena feel the same. Knowing that her sister in law didn't want conversation but only agreement, she nodded her head with an encouraging smile and downed her glass of champagne, hoping the alcohol might help make tonight a little more bearable.
An hour passed during which Elena assisted at a discussion amongst her friends Aimee and Sarah about what charity to promote next. She was getting exhausted from the effort it took for her to not look at Damon every two seconds. He was standing a few feet away, looking deep in conversation with Bonnie but Elena knew that the two of them were surveying their surroundings for anything that might look suspicious. Elena was pulled from the conversation with her friends by her husband's hand on her shoulder.
"Excuse me ladies," he said with his most winning smile, reducing both women to putty in his hands while pulling his wife away from the group. "I have some business to attend to," he told her when they had moved out of earshot and were now standing by the windows overlooking the hotel park.
"Now?" Elena asked, more out of surprise than because she wished he didn't have to go.
"Yes, I'm sorry pumpkin but it's kind of urgent." Elena only nodded in acceptance. "I knew you'd understand," he said with a relieved smile while pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Mr. Salvatore," he suddenly called, turning around abruptly.
Elena had fought hard to keep her eyes away from the man she had felt pulled towards all evening, but now that he walked over to them and came to stand beside her, so close that the scent of his aftershave reached her, she was rendered incapable of averting her gaze.
"Mr. Salvatore, I need to take care of some business," he explained vaguely. "Please make sure my wife stays at least another hour and then escort her back to our suite."
"Of course," Damon agreed but Mason had already turned around and walked away.
"Would you like to dance?" Damon then asked, now turning his full attention onto her, bending over slightly in a courteous bow.
"I would love to," she agreed and felt her heart skip when he took her hand lightly into his and guided her the few steps onto the dance floor. Suddenly his arm wrapped around her, his hand resting on her back, pulling her lightly against his body. Her left arm rested on his right one, which in return held hers up firmly, her right hand closed finally, firmly around his left one and she took another step towards him, close enough now to feel his breath against her skin. With the next beat of music he gently pushed her forward and they fell into easy circles as they moved with the other couples across the floor. Right away, Elena could feel all her anxiety fall away from her – being in his arms made her feel safe in an instant.
"How are you?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.
"I missed you," she confessed, looking at the blur of colors over his shoulder, unable to focus her eyes on anything specific.
"I missed you, too," he said, his voice soft. She could feel his thumb stroke across the knuckles of her hand and drew in a breath. "How are the kids?" he continued his questioning.
"They're good," she replied. "They miss you, too. Your pancakes especially." She could feel him chuckle lightly and couldn't help but smile herself.
Suddenly she felt a shift in his posture, his back was more rigid and his head turned to keep his sight on a point in the distance.
"What is it?" she asked, pulling back slightly to look up at him.
"Who is that? With your husband?" Damon asked, indicating the far end of the ball room with an almost imperceptible nod of the head.
Elena scanned the room and saw Mason at a service entrance across the dance floor, his hand on the doorknob, his eyes darting across the crowd as if to make sure no one was watching him, before pushing through the door and disappearing in the corridor behind it. He was followed by another man in an expensive grey suit. Elena thought she remembered the face. He had a certain noble slant to the jaw and a calm yet determined quality to the eyes that had ingrained him into her memory. It took her a minute to be able to place him, though.
"Elijah," she finally answered, after the door had already fallen shut behind the two of them. "Elijah Mikaelson."
"As in Nick and Kol Mikaelson?" Damon questioned, his eyes still lingering on the door.
"Yes. You know them?" Elena asked somewhat surprised.
"It is my job to know your husband's business associates," he replied distractedly. "I didn't know there was another brother."
"As far as I know, he's not involved in the business anymore," Elena explained. "From what I've heard he left the company after his father's death. Apparently Nick and Kol have questionable moral standpoints when it comes to obeying the full extent of the law. Elijah demanded they stay honest and do business like their father had but Nick and Kol somehow managed to kick him off the board. He works as a lobbyist for several environmentalist groups now. Apparently he can be very convincing."
"What is your husband doing with him then?" Damon asked, his brow furrowed.
"I don't know," Elena admitted, watching Damon carefully. He seemed worried or at the very least curious. She wondered what he was going to do about it.
"Maybe they know each other privately," he mused.
"We met him at a fundraiser for the Governor the Mikaelsons hosted last Christmas but I've never heard Mason speak of him since then."
"Hm," Damon only replied, still deep in thought. At the next corner however, he pulled his eyes from the closed door and directed them back at Elena. Immediately she saw his gaze soften, an unreadable expression ghosting across his face.
"What?" she asked, cocking her head inquisitively, a small smile curving her lips.
"Nothing," he replied easily. "You look beautiful."
Elena dropped her eyes to the floor, the compliment lifting her up and pulling her down at the same time. "Damon," she said quietly but was unable to finish her sentence. They had made the round of the hall and returned to the place they had started dancing. Elena's eyes darted over to where Bonnie was standing with Tyler and Vicki who were immersed in conversation with the editor in chief of the local newspaper and his bored looking wife. "Come with me," she said, pulling from his arms and heading towards the open doors that led out onto the terrace.
The fresh air that hit her face instantly cooled down her overheated skin. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and made sure that Damon was close behind her before rushing down the elaborate steps towards the vast garden stretching out behind the hotel. The music faded, as did the voices and the bright light. Elena welcomed the quiet and darkness enveloping her, wanted to get swallowed up in them. She needed to talk to Damon about the realization she'd had that morning during breakfast but she couldn't do it with all of Mystic Falls' high society in earshot. She walked quickly and quietly along the pond until she reached a weeping willow growing at the far end of the small body of water. Without looking back, she pushed aside the low hanging branches and disappeared behind the curtain of leaves, only stopping when she had reached the sturdy stem of the old tree, turning around just in time to see Damon push through the thick foliage, a confused look on his face.
"Elena, you can't just run off like that. This is extremely…"
"I can't leave my husband," she interrupted him, her hands clenched nervously at her sides, her eyes wide and watching him.
Damon stayed quiet for a second, caught completely off guard. "I never asked you to," he finally said, taking a hesitant step towards her so they were close enough to see each other's face even in the relative darkness that surrounded them.
"I know," she answered, her throat aching. "But you've made me want to."
She could see the pain on his face. He took another step so he was standing right in front of her and softly stroked her cheek with his thumb. She closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of his skin on hers, before she raised her own hand to seize his.
"I want to leave him because I've realized that I'm not happy. And because I know that I can't make him happy. But I can't leave him, Damon. He would never forgive me and he would take Jenna and Jeremy. Not because he wants them but because he wouldn't want me to get them. And there's nothing I could do. I don't have a job or even any skills; I don't even have a family that could help me. I can't lose them, Damon. I can't leave them with him." She felt a tear trickle down her cheek and cursed herself for not being able to hold it together. She couldn't go back into the ball with smeared make-up. Everyone would talk.
"Sshh," he soothed and wiped the tear away carefully. Slowly, he pulled her into an embrace, wrapping her into his arms and his scent. Elena breathed in deeply, dispelling her anxiety and filling her lungs with the intoxicating mixture of him and the hyacinths blooming nearby.
"I can't be with you, Damon," she said quietly, her face pressed against his dress shirt, feeling the heat from his skin through the thin cloth. "I'll want to leave him but I can never do it."
"I know," he said softly into her hair, holding her still close against his chest. "I never wanted to come between you and your husband, I would never want to cause you pain. I want you to be happy, Elena. And I understand that it can't be with me. I just hope that he will be able to make you happy again – to give you hope again."
Elena wanted to dissolve into a puddle of tears but knew she couldn't. Another kind of fear suddenly grasped at her.
"Will you leave now?" she asked, unsure of what she would do if he weren't there anymore.
"Never," he replied, his voice strong and determined. "As long as you need me, I'll stay."
She wanted to smile from relief and cry from the pain at having to let him go. "Take me upstairs," she pleaded, pulling away from him, feeling the loss of his body against hers acutely, not only because of the cold night air rushing against her heated skin but also because she was aware of the finality of the moment and she felt as if she was leaving behind not only the warmth of his arms but also a piece of her heart.
They walked back across the lawn without speaking another word. Instead of having to face the packed ballroom however, Elena was guided by Damon towards a staff entrance that opened onto a corridor leading from the gardens all the way to the foyer, passing the kitchen on the way. Damon made a quick call to Bonnie to tell her that he was taking Elena upstairs to her room, then they reached the public part of the hotel again. Elena was glad that the reception area of the hotel had somewhat emptied by now. She only nodded to the security guy standing by their private elevator and stepped into the metal box as soon as its doors opened, her arms wrapped protectively around her body.
She felt Damon step into the lift behind her and heard him lean against the wall. She raised her eyes to watch the digital numbers on the display change slowly as they passed floor after floor, rising endlessly. She wanted only to shut the door behind her, step into her shower and finally allow herself to cry without fear of anyone noticing.
In the mirror that covered the walls of the small cubicle she could see Damon stand by the wall behind her, his hands braced on the handrail that lined the walls, his eyes turned towards the floor as if he was inspecting his shoes. She felt anguish rise up inside her and close fast around her chest. She had hurt him, too. It wasn't only her own heart that she had put on the line, she had accepted that he did the same. She had been the one to kiss him, she had been the one to ask him to take her to his room. And yet he didn't hold it against her but simply accepted her excuse and still stayed to protect her. She took a deep breath, the sound of which must have alerted Damon because his eyes shot up instantly and landed on hers in the mirror. For a second she could only stare at him and watch his expression slowly change from startled to observing to questioning. She dropped her gaze to the floor and took a deep breath. She needed to get out of this elevator instantly. Then again, she really didn't want to. She lifted her eyes back up towards the mirror where they were immediately met by Damon's bright blue ones. She felt her heart quicken and felt her hands and feet become restless. Her pulse buzzed in her temples. She spun around suddenly, facing him now, looking directly into his blazing eyes that were filled with desire and uncertainty, that beckoned her and told her to stay away at the same time. She could see his knuckles turn white from where he gripped onto the handrail tightly. She took one hesitant step towards him but was interrupted by his voice before she could close the distance completely.
"Don't do it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Don't do it if you don't want it."
She hesitated. He was right, she couldn't do this now and take it back later. She had given him her whole sermon about not being able to be with him and he had accepted it and it was unfair of her to string him along now if she wasn't able to follow through. But who was she kidding? Staying away from him wasn't an option. The pull was too strong. She had felt it all night and now she couldn't even last two minutes in the elevator with him. She had told him everything she had because she really believed it to be true and because she had hoped that her heart might be able to follow her head if he was on her side, helping her to stay strong, but not even ten minutes had passed since that moment and already they had become the most excruciating ten minutes of her life. This definitely was the worst idea she had ever had but she also knew that she didn't really have a choice. Not being with Damon now only meant lying to herself a little longer. It was certain that she would finally succumb, he wouldn't even have to try – she had fallen for him all on her own and she would eventually capitulate to this all on her own as well. It was an inevitability and at least with him by her side she felt stronger instead of weaker during these difficult times.
Determined now, she crossed the remaining distance between them and rested her hands on his chest. She could feel his ribcage rise against her palms and took a calming breath while closing her fingers around the lapels of his suit jacket and leaning forward. She could see his eyes drop towards her lips and felt the hesitation in the rigidness of his torso and the ticking of his clenched jaw. She prayed to god that she wasn't making the biggest mistake of her life but right now not doing it felt like the worst possible decision.
When their lips met, she was certain that she had made the right choice. It felt like coming home. The tension was suddenly gone from his body and when he finally closed an arm around her, pulling her closer and she could in return wrap her arms around his neck, tangling one hand in his hair and holding herself fast against him with the other, she felt like she had on the beach, like she could still hope for happiness.
What had started as a tentative kiss soon spiraled into something else entirely. Elena pulled herself against Damon's body, as if trying to pull him in as much as she had pushed him away before. Her arms clung to him desperately, fearing that he might disappear if they loosened even a fraction. Damon was crushing her body to his with one arm while tracing the naked skin of her bare shoulders with the other. Their lips devoured each other, as if this were the first and last kiss they could ever share.
Suddenly the elevator moved much too fast. Elena was sure they would arrive on their floor in seconds. Why did she have to be such a ridiculous idiot and waste precious moments on her doubts?
When they felt the capsule slow down and come to a careful stop, the feeling of Elena pulling away from him and her hungry eyes and kiss-swollen lips had Damon ready to push the emergency button to give them even a few more minutes but the cheerful chime of the elevator bell announced to him that he was too late.
Brian was standing next to the little stool by the elevator. It was late and he was tired and he would have liked to sit down but Joel had called from downstairs, announcing to him that Mrs. Lockwood would be coming up and therefore he had to stand. Boss's orders. When the doors opened, the woman he was here to protect stepped into the hallway, her head bowed and her arms wrapped closely around her torso. He hadn't seen much of her, but she was a beautiful young woman and from what he heard a kind one at that. Protecting her made him feel useful and sad at the same time, sad that she needed to be protected, that there was someone out there who wanted to hurt this delicate flower. Her personal bodyguard, Damon Salvatore stepped out right behind her. Brian hadn't had much direct contact with him either, but he admired the dark-haired man immensely. They were of the same age and yet the other had accomplished so much more. His mere presence made Brian feel inadequate. Sure, he could throw himself in front of a bullet for his charge – and he would – but he had to admit that he couldn't anticipate a criminal's actions, that he was too slow-witted to register an impending threat and that he wasn't able to fit in with the high society. Eager to please, he plastered a bright smile on his face.
"Good evening, Mrs. Lockwood," he greeted friendly. She looked up and smiled weakly at him in return. He was somewhat disappointed. Freddy had told him that the wife always greeted the security people. But maybe she wasn't feeling well. Her cheeks looked flushed and her eyes glassy, she seemed almost feverish, perhaps she was ill.
"Has Mr. Lockwood come home yet?" the bodyguard asked and Brian's mood brightened immediately at the opportunity of being helpful.
"No, Mr. Lockwood has not returned," he replied with an affirmative nod.
Damon gave him a thankful nod and guided the woman towards her room. When they reached the door, he suddenly spun around and addressed Brian in a rush: "Did you hear that?"
Brian felt heat rise to his cheeks, adrenaline instantly pumping through his veins. He hadn't heard anything but he had no doubt that Damon could pick up on things that he missed. "What is it?" he asked, instantly alert.
Damon put a finger over his mouth to silence him and motioned for him to follow him down the hallway. Brian instantly approached, walking as silently as he could and pulling his gun out of its holster.
"Go somewhere safe," Damon whispered to Mrs. Lockwood before leading Brian down the hall towards the unoccupied rooms.
Tiredly, Damon stepped into his room. They hadn't found anybody or any sign of an intrusion and so Brian had gone back to his post by the elevator. Damon let out a breath. Today had been a long day. Certainly an emotional day. He dropped his phone and key card onto the small sideboard next to the door before turning to flip on the lights. Before he could reach the switch, the door fell shut behind him, plunging him into complete darkness. He could sense the presence behind his back before he could feel the intruder's hands on his skin, heard the rustling of movement before he heard the flat breathing. A hand came out of nowhere, grabbed his left wrist and twisted his arm behind his back, not painfully far but enough to impair his movability. His right hand shot to the gun in the holster strapped underneath his dinner jacket but his adversary was faster, pushing up under his jacket and grabbing the gun before he could reach it. The foreign hand slowly pulled the weapon away from his body and weighed it appraisingly.
"I was hoping you would come," he said in a smooth voice, barely above a whisper.
His words had the desired effect, shocking the other person into a short stupor. He quickly turned around, freeing his left arm and shoving the other body against the wall, both hands pushed up next to their head. He smirked cockily, leaning in slightly. He had gotten used to the darkness now and could see the eyes that were staring up at him dart down for only an instant, almost too quick to be noticed – but notice he did.
"I told you not to look before kicking a guy in the balls!" he chided.
Elena rolled her eyes and pulled her hands free, discarding the gun onto the sideboard next to Damon's phone. "How did you know it was me?" she whined.
"Your perfume," he replied, pushing her back against the wall lightly and burying his nose in the crook of her neck. Elena bent her head slightly to grant him easier access and he could feel her pulse quicken as he traced light kisses along her throat and then down her collarbone. "Plus, I was expecting you."
"You were lying about hearing someone to distract the security guy, weren't you?" she asked, burying her fingers in his soft hair.
"I was," he confirmed, raising his head so he could look into her eyes.
"I was hoping you were," she replied before their lips met in a searing kiss. Elena lifted her leg to allow him to shift between her thighs and Damon's hand immediately found the exposed skin and drove up across the forming goose bumps towards the laced hem of the slit so generously revealing her to him.
Elena moaned and suddenly dropped her leg and began pushing Damon backwards toward his bed. On their way he let his hand push open the zipper on the back of the expensive garment wrapped around her exquisite body and let the mass of purple silk and lace plunge to her feet, closely followed by his jacket that Elena pushed off of his shoulders irreverently. When his calves bumped against the mattress, he felt her hands push him down and as soon as he sat down on his sheets she climbed onto his lap, straddling him, wrapping her arms around his neck. The gasp that Damon let out as her mostly naked body pressed against him was swallowed immediately by her kiss. He ran the palms of his hands up her bare back, tracing the two flexing strands of muscle running underneath her skin.
Elena felt heat rise up throughout her body. She swiftly unbuttoned Damon's shirt to get him naked as quickly as possible. She felt her skin buzz from anticipation. All day she had been sure that this was never going to happen and now that it was about to, she couldn't imagine going even another day without his touch on her skin. It had almost happened before but they had been interrupted. And she knew that they could be interrupted again. But she couldn't bring herself to stop because of a possibility. Her breathing quickened at the feel of his toned chest pressed to hers, skin on skin, and his strong arms closing around her like a cocoon. When they briefly broke apart for air, he flipped them over, throwing her onto the mattress and covering her body with his own in a second. When Elena looked up, all she could see in the ocean of darkness enveloping her were his eyes, drinking her in.
"I had to come here," she said quietly, tracing his ear and then his jaw with her fingers.
Damon didn't reply but only looked at her inquisitively.
"You told me to go somewhere safe," she elaborated. "This is the safest place I know. Right here. In your arms."
I know. It's mean of me to stop here. But my mom's reading this so I'm sorry but no sexy times in this one ;) Hope you still liked it.