A/N: Anyone still breathing in the Bamon fandom? I'm still fangirling over that finale, and if you haven't seen it, what's the hold up? Anywho, thank you loves for the reviews, addition to your lists, and for loving this story. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

230 Fifth Rooftop Bar—New York

March 26th, 2014 1:33 a.m.

"Am I holding you too tight?"

His breath—scented spearmint—whispered across her cheek and filled her eardrum. Bonnie shook her head and had to bite her lip or otherwise she would have complained about him not holding her tight enough.

They had plenty of room to dance. The crowd was dense as to be expected, but bodies weren't necessarily crushed together making it impossible to move. They rocked from side to side as if they had danced together for years and this wasn't their first time. Bonnie always held the belief she could dance anyone under the table, but she didn't mind slowing things down and keeping it simple and that's exactly what Damon Salvatore was delivering.

Hardly any space separated their bodies. They were meshed together, welded as if they were a pair of I beams holding the foundation of a skyscraper upright. Air molecules couldn't even wedge themselves between her back and his front.

Heat began to radiate from their crushed bodies and it made Bonnie's skin pucker. She shivered a little, something that hadn't gone unnoticed by Damon.

"Cold?" he asked.

No, quite the opposite Bonnie wanted to articulate but once again answered his query with a shake of her head. She didn't understand where this shyness was stemming from. Bonnie had her moments of self-consciousness like anyone else, but it had never been to this level before. Damon was a stranger, but an instant connection practically sprang between them and she wanted to get to know as much about him in the limited time they had together.

She knew it would serve in her best interest not to have too many expectations, but anticipation wouldn't be placated at the moment.

For his part, Damon was running a list of baseball stats through his head or otherwise the chubby in his pants would burst through the denim barrier of his black jeans. It took a lot more than dancing to give him an erection, but he amended that because he was dancing with a woman who enamored him almost seamlessly and didn't even know she had that kind of power over him.

Silent stunners were always the most deadly.

Maybe he was weak. Maybe he just needed to get laid. Maybe he was too eager or all of it put together. But he never wanted the night to end.

The song they had been swaying to ended, and Bonnie stilled for a moment wondering if that was it. Did he want to keep going? She needed to rejoin her party—oh shit that's right! She wasn't here alone and her group was probably wondering where she disappeared off to. She needed to go back to them and yet that side of her warred with remaining right where she was.

Sliding her hands over Damon's and prying them off slowly, Bonnie turned to face him. He frowned down at her.

"What's wrong?"

"I have to get back to my friends," Bonnie explained and nibbled her bottom lip pensively.

Damon could see her struggle because it mirrored his own. He didn't want her to leave, didn't want her to part from him, and end this reunion prematurely.

Stepping forward, he dropped a hand to her hip. "Just one more dance," he pouted.

Bonnie chuckled nervously at the petulant look Damon was delivering. Something told her he was used to getting his way. Often. And with little argument or back talk.

"You owe me," Damon went on to say.

"How do I owe you?" Bonnie crossed her arms under her breasts.

"You didn't come to my graduation party if memory serves me right."

A divot formed between Bonnie's arched brows as she searched her memories for that specific one to validate Damon's claim.

"Oh, right," Bonnie's lips pulled down at the corners. "Wait a second…you gave me your tassel? I found it the other day and couldn't remember why I had it."

Damon's brows jumped at the news. She still had his tassel? That couldn't be a coincidence but a choice on her end to keep a little part of him with her. Or perhaps he was making things much deeper than they needed to be at the moment. In any case, she hadn't discarded it and that still spoke volumes to Damon.

He activated his chill and said, "I did and I'm glad you remember. Do you also remember what I said to you after giving it to you?"

An unbeknownst sly grin overtook Bonnie's visage which made her look deliciously wicked to Damon. "You said you were going to get it back."

"And you told me…"

Bonnie stepped forward, stood on her toes again, finding her balance by placing her little hands on his chest to speak into his ear, "I'd like to see you try."

A shudder wanted to ripple through Damon but he somehow found the willpower to repress it.

Surprised by her own behavior, Bonnie jerked away and her cheeks were probably a lovely shade of russet and darkening by the second. "I'm sorry. I should…yeah…" she tried to wonder off but Damon lightly clasped her wrist and pulled her back.

Her shoulder connected with his chest and slowly her eyes climbed up his broad chest, the column of his neck, that sharp jawline, those obscenely pink and kissable lips, and planted their flag right into the infinite vastness of his glacial stare. She blinked up at him owlishly and again they just gazed at one another speaking a language only decipherable by specific cues like pupil dilation, nostril flaring, and the sweep of a tongue to moisten a bottom lip.

Bonnie shook her head to clear it of lustful cobwebs. This wasn't really her. She didn't act like this and with a total stranger to boot. Well, not since that one time in college. But it had been college. Whatever was brewing between her and Damon was lust. And nothing more, right?

The goose bumps refused to budge from her skin and Damon's fingers were singeing her right down to the marrow of her bones. Hopefully someone would be able to find and identify her charred remains if he didn't cease and desist with his smoldering gaze.

Invite her out to dinner, offer to buy her a drink or a diamond ring, just whatever you do don't let her slip through your fingers again, Salvatore, Damon's mind gave him a swift kick in the groin and before he knew what he was doing, he slid his fingertips along her bird-like arm, and sank his fingers between hers.

"Just one more dance," he implored again.

Apprehension melted away and Bonnie nodded. She didn't want to run off back to her friends because she knew she wouldn't be able to concentrate anyways. Repeatedly she questioned why she was so drawn to Damon. Men like him hardly ever showed an interest in her, and true she didn't know the kind of man he was, Bonnie pegged him to go for the leggy blonde type and she was far from fulfilling that mold.

Yet he pointed her out, wanted to be in her company. For a reason. Just go with it, her mind cheered.

As strange as it might sound, Bonnie felt safe with Damon which should have been absurd considering they had had no contact in years, and their encounters in their brief past had been just that. Brief. Yet she was drawn to him. There had to be a supernatural force behind this.

"Drunk in Love" began streaming from the speakers.

Damon was familiar with the song because hey who didn't know a Beyonce song? He spun Bonnie around and pulled her forward. They stood chest to chest, thigh to thigh unable to look away from one another.

"Thank you," he said and meant it. He raised their arms in the air, fingers still interlocked.

"Why are you thanking me?"

Damon placed Bonnie's arms around his neck whereas his found their home on her hips again. "You're doing me a tremendous favor."

"Is that so? How?"

The elder Salvatore grinned. There were plenty of ways for him to answer this question, from the polite and thankful to the downright pornographic. He decided a medium would serve in his best interest.

"I spend a lot of time alone and I'm glad that I have the pleasure of a stunningly gorgeous woman to keep the loneliness at bay."

Loneliness had been her biggest companion since Henrik's passing, and she knew it very well. Damon's words could have been taken with a grain of salt, something a man on a prowl would say to any woman he was hoping to see naked later on in the night or sometime in the imminent future. However, and for some inexplicable reason they struck a chord with Bonnie. Resonated someplace that had lain dormant.

Through the years Bonnie taught herself how to gauge sincerity and she heard it plainly in Damon's voice. He wasn't trying to run game on her—well maybe a little bit—but he was also being uncannily open with her. She was curious as to why but too chicken to really call him out on it.

Shyness took root once more and she found herself staring at her feet. "Do you go around using those lines all the time hoping you'll get lucky?"

"That would be the assumption," Damon shrugged. "They're the truth though where you're concerned. I'm glad I ran into you."

Bonnie lifted her head and smiled. "I'm glad I ran into you, too."

"You're not saying that just to be polite?"

"Maybe."

Damon chuckled darkly. He spun Bonnie out again and the two of them began to circle one another often trading roles, one becoming the matador the other the defiant bull.

If Stefan were to see him he would be recording the moment because anyone who knew Damon Salvatore knew he wasn't a dancer.

It was a task to keep his hands in respectable places, and not be all over Bonnie who smelled mouthwatering, and looked scrumptious enough to eat. And what was also disconcerting was how spot on Enzo's description of Bonnie had been. The one thing missing, and he was glad about this, was the haunted look in her eyes. Tonight they reflected the strobe lights and they…sparkled.

Little by little Damon found himself grinning like a fool and didn't have an ounce of shame to stop.

B||D

The first time Elijah Mikaelson laid eyes on Bonnie Bennett had been four years ago on Fat Tuesday. He was at his parents' estate at The Hamptons where they typically gathered to celebrate Mardi Gras if they were unable to travel to New Orleans due to prior work-related obligations.

He and his girlfriend at the time, Hayley, had gotten into another heated albeit petty argument over something frivolous Elijah had difficulty remembering what was said verbatim. Their relationship was standing on its final leg, and honestly he wanted things to work, but Hayley was feeling torn between him and a previous flame. Elijah was always one for competition but not when it came to matters of the heart. Either you were with him a hundred percent or you weren't. He didn't suffer fence straddlers kindly.

So in an attempt to salvage what was left of his fledgling relationship with Hayley, Elijah had invited her to spend the holiday with him. Hayley did her best to impress his family, but one or two disparaging comments may have floated from her mouth that especially rubbed his brother Klaus the wrong way. Not to say what Hayley said wasn't unfounded, but the dinner table just wasn't the place for it.

There were many things about Hayley that drew Elijah. Her beautiful looks aside, she was soft-spoken, smart, crafty, and she made him feel centered in a world ruled by politics and protocols erected by his highfalutin father. The idea of marriage did run through his mind a few times, Elijah could confess, but he knew he and Hayley weren't ready for that kind of commitment.

Besides they hadn't been together for a year. And Elijah held the belief that courting someone took time and patience.

After lunch on that fateful day, the couple had retreated to the solarium to have another refresher course on the fact Klaus had the memory of an elephant and hardly let any slight pass unpunished. Elijah desired ardently for Hayley to fit in with his family that sometimes made it a little impossible for outsiders to feel welcome. That was all he tried to tell her, but Hayley took it the wrong way thinking he was trying to control, modify her behavior, and make her into some subservient arm piece.

"Why don't you just admit it, Elijah? Just admit it. Your family hates me, and you and I both know I don't really fit in here."

"You're not giving them a chance. I know my family can be tough…"

"I'd say that's an understatement," a third party entered the room and interrupted the feuding couple's argument.

Elijah and Hayley swiveled their attention to the intruder. Standing by the open door was Henrik, his younger brother. Elijah did his best to offer up a smile but all the muscles in his body were taut with tension.

"Henrik," Elijah greeted partly subdued. "Didn't think you'd make it."

"You know I never miss celebrating Mardi Gras with my family," he looked between his rigid older brother and his lovely female companion sensing the strain between them, "I'm sorry but was I interrupting something?"

From the half smile on his younger brother's face, Elijah knew that Henrik knew good and damn well he had intruded when he shouldn't have.

"No," Hayley spoke up. "We were just finishing. It's good to see you, Henrik."

"Likewise, Hayley. Elijah giving you a hard time again? I'll straighten him out for you," he winked.

Hayley chortled and held up a hand. "No, it's fine. We're good. Just having a typical lovers spat. It's nothing that won't blow over in a couple of days."

Elijah just loved it when people held conversations about him as if he weren't standing in a room. He chose to bite his tongue as he jammed a closed fist in his pant pocket.

"Glad to hear it. Well, there's someone I want you two to meet," Henrik stepped out into the hall and when he reentered the room he did so holding the hand of a woman.

Elijah blinked.

He didn't blink because the complexion of his brother's guest was far darker than the lighter hue of the other female in the room. Kol, Klaus, Rebekah, and himself included often dated outside of their race so that wasn't really a big deal. Elijah didn't blink because he was unaccustomed to seeing Henrik date. In fact, Henrik made himself a reputation where the ladies were concerned. He stood at six-feet, carried a swimmers build with lean muscles that gave off the appearance he wasn't physically strong. Henrik had the face of a fallen angel with eyes as dark as the night sky.

No, Elijah blinked because there was something spellbinding about the woman who was small in stature but had the body of a dancer. Her celadon eyes glinted with vibrancy, as did every fiber of her shoulder length, glossy midnight hair. Her mouth was a little off centered but it was hardly noticeable when she smiled and the one she was presenting to him and Hayley, respectively, made Elijah swallow the lump that suddenly formed in the back of his throat. Simply put, she was stunning.

Henrik turned to the unidentified beauty, his face awash with pride and love and that made Elijah snap out of whatever was beginning to happen to him.

"Elijah…Hayley I'd like you to meet the woman I intend to marry, Bonnie Bennett."

Elijah could recall nothing save the feel of Bonnie's small-boned hand in his when they shook hands after introductions had been made. She may have appeared to be delicate but she had a strong grip, and the smile never once slipped from her face.

Once the pleasantries were over, Elijah quickly made himself scarce. He didn't understand or know how to explain his initial reaction to Bonnie. Being around beautiful women was common place, as he worked with them, and a slew patronized his family's restaurant on a daily basis.

Nevertheless, whatever it was about Bonnie, it made Elijah uncomfortable and he avoided her the best way he knew how, and hammered it into his head that Henrik meant to marry her, and he knew his brother was serious because Henrik had never made that kind of declaration before.

Elijah wouldn't haul off and call his brother a playboy Casanova. He dated casually, and only when the mood struck him. Henrik had been obsessed with his work with nanotechnology and advancing intelligence systems. His work at the New York FBI field office kept him busy.

But not so busy he managed to find the time to meet, snatch up, and date Bonnie Bennett.

So Elijah did what he could to keep things between himself and Bonnie formal when they were forced to socialize. However, whenever she delved into a discussion about art which was her profession and passion, he couldn't prevent himself from getting sucked into the world she painted.

Color him surprised when, just five months after meeting Bonnie Bennett for the first time, Elijah stood at the end of the aisle in a tux standing behind his brother acting as his second best man. He was happy for Henrik—undoubtedly, but…

Something nagged at Elijah he couldn't or more accurately didn't want to name. And the feeling only metastasized at the reception when Henrik pulled Elijah aside and made him forge a promise.

"You know the work I do at the FBI is top secret and dangerous and…if anything were to happen to me, I need to know that Bonnie is looked after."

"Henrik, nothing is going to happen to you," Elijah tried to dispel his brother's claim. "This is your wedding day. Focus on that and nothing else."

"Just promise me, Elijah," Henrik's cajoling tone had turned serious. Elijah mutely nodded. "If something does happen to me, will you promise to look after Bonnie? Make sure she wants for nothing and that's she's safe and okay?"

Elijah understood why Henrik came to him with this request, but at the same time he didn't want to have this particular honor. Yet he sucked it up bearing in mind he was the elder.

"I give you my word, brother, I'll look after Bonnie if anything should happen, but we both know it won't."

Today, Elijah wondered, and he hated to think this about himself, but he wondered if he may have inadvertently hoped something would happen to Henrik. Not that he would die, no he never wanted his brother to die and especially not in the manner in which he died. Yet it made Elijah wonder...

Now that Bonnie had opened up to spending time with him and his family, those lines which had been carved in the sand were becoming blurred at the conclusion of every event. Bonnie let her hair down. Replaced her frowns with breath-stealing smiles, and had played an integral part in helping to launch Klaus' opening. Just as Henrik had always bragged about it being easy to love Bonnie, she had wedged herself firmly into the hearts of his siblings without lifting a finger. They could have been this close from the beginning, but Bonnie kept her guard up and with good reason.

She had confided in Elijah one night she stopped by the restaurant to have dinner she always felt intimidated by his family and their many accomplishments. She had even admitted to being envious of the fact Henrik could trace his family history back to Alaric I of the Visigoths. Bonnie's parents hardly opened up to her about anything and for a time she really thought she might have been a foster child or adopted.

Impulsively, Elijah had offered to help Bonnie research her family history if it was a burning desire of hers. She had smiled at him then, placed her hand over his and said she'd think about it. His skin burned underneath her touch, and he endured the rest of their meal with an erection.

Elijah wanted to shoot himself. At the moment he couldn't differentiate between himself and a schoolboy crushing for the first time.

Tonight had been magnificent, but something heavy pressed inside of him. Something he tried to divert his thoughts from as he stood in a corner of the rooftop bar peering at the New York skyline.

Rebekah joined him a few minutes later. "You look perturbed, Elijah. What's on your mind?"

"Nothing, just thinking about the past. Are we about ready to head out? It's late and I have work in the morning."

"Aren't you about overdue for a vacation?"

Elijah rubbed his tired and slightly bloodshot eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he chartered the family jet and flew across the country to some remote island, laid around, drank until he passed out, or sunk his toes into grainy sand. It had been a hilariously long time since he took any time for himself. If it wasn't business he was tending to, then he was dealing with family drama. A break sounded heavenly, but he didn't want to examine too closely the reason why he didn't want to leave New York.

He knew he had to be shrewd, careful and especially around Rebekah who had a nose for smelling deception, but also feelings someone worked overtime to keep under wraps.

Smiling at his baby sister, Elijah slung an arm over her shoulder. "I'll take one as soon as things start to slow down with the business."

Rebekah looked up at her big brother. "Will you be traveling alone?"

He frowned, "Why wouldn't I travel alone?"

"Because…how long has it been since you've gone on a date or met someone for drinks, brunch, coffee?"

"I don't know and why all this interest in my personal life, Rebekah?"

The interest was, Rebekah wanted to say but wouldn't voice, she noticed Elijah hardly looked at anyone especially when he was in a specific woman's company.

"I don't want you to miss out on anything, Elijah. Finn is practically engaged to his long-time girlfriend. Hell even Kol has managed to find someone to settle down with. Klaus…he appears to want to hang on to his bachelorhood for as long as possible. And I know you want a family of your own. But…"

And that but hung over Elijah's head like a sharpened guillotine blade. "I don't need companionship to feel complete. I already do."

Rebekah nodded and not because she believed her brother. "Just don't…cross any lines, Elijah."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You know what I'm talking about," she arched an eyebrow.

Elijah slipped a balled fist into his tailored gabardine pants. "No, I'm afraid I don't. Speak plain, Rebekah."

Saying nothing, Rebekah grabbed her brother by the hand and tugged him after her. "Come with me."

Elijah was doubly confused because it wasn't often Rebekah spoke in riddles or didn't speak her mind without a filter. All Mikaelson's were outspoken but Rebekah was usually the loudest in that regard.

Shuffling through the crowd, they came to the staircase that descended to the lower portion of the club. Rebekah pointed at something and Elijah followed the line of her finger until his eyes crashed into what had been of interest to his sister.

Something painful squeezed his heart and as much as he tried to look away, he couldn't. His jaw tightened and he told—ordered his muscles to relax but they refused to listen.

Rebekah watched Elijah carefully and saw the rage color his eyes, the tenseness of his shoulders, the rigidity of his spine underneath the fabric of his suit. It was just as she feared. She certainly didn't want to hurt her brother but he had to know nothing could ever come of his infatuation with…

"She is dancing," Elijah bit out through clenched teeth and tried to diminish the growl peppering his words. "It's not the end of the world. I'm happy she's happy."

Rebekah scoffed. "She's not just dancing…she's connecting with someone else."

Elijah turned his back on the scene and breathed evenly through his nostrils. In seconds his cool demeanor returned and he was unflappable once more. However, he did throw a glare in Rebekah's direction. She certainly did know how to drive a point home.

"She is free to do what she wants," Elijah said at length.

"You know she appreciates having you in her life, but she sees you as a brother only."

Elijah wouldn't refute that. It was a truth he couldn't twist or shape into his favor or a lie. "I care for her as a sister and that's all, Rebekah. Now would you be so kind as to alert her we're ready to leave?"

He walked off giving his little sister no chance or choice to object.

B||D

Before either of them became aware of it or looked up to check the time, five additional songs had played since their paths crossed on the dance floor. Bonnie was thirsty and her skin had a light sheen of sweat coating it. Her feet were screaming for a rest and she was sure they were going to start smoking soon. Very soon.

"Need a break?" Damon said.

"Yes, please," Bonnie smiled.

"Come on let me buy you a drink."

Clasping hands again, they meandered through the still dancing and socializing patrons and made it to the bar. Luckily there was an empty stool and Bonnie quickly capitalized on it. Damon stood protectively behind her and waved for the bartender.

One sauntered up to them. Bonnie flipped through the menu on the bar top wanting to venture out and try something new.

"What do you usually drink?" Damon's chin grazed Bonnie's temple.

He really needed to stop doing that, Bonnie thought and cleared her throat. "Something girly and fruity. What do you usually drink?"

"Jack, Elijah Craig, Wild Turkey. You know the manly stuff guaranteed to put hair on your chest."

Bonnie laughed. "Not really a fan of whiskey or bourbon."

"How do you feel about champagne? A bottle of Moet?"

The way he said Moet translated in Bonnie's mind to: are you wet?

"No," she cleared her throat. "I've been drinking champagne all night. I should probably take it easy and just get a gin and tonic."

"Oh come on and live a little. You're not driving, right?"

"No, but that doesn't mean I want to wake up with a pounding headache, either."

"Okay so what about a shot of tequila then?"

Bonnie weighed her options and accepted Damon's offer. He placed their order with the bartender and then Damon shifted to where he leaned against the bar.

So many questions began firing in his head, but he wasn't given the chance to ask any of them because two glasses of tequila were sat in front of them.

Damon handed over his plastic, picked up one shot glass and passed it over to Bonnie before picking up the other.

"Should we toast?" Bonnie inquired.

"We should. A toast to…happy reunions that hopefully continue beyond tonight," his eyes darkened to cobalt and Bonnie gulped nervously.

She tapped her glass with his and tossed the shot back. She grimaced, her lips pulled back against her teeth as the Jose Cuervo burned down her esophagus and spread along the walls of her stomach.

Damon was about to follow suit and stopped as soon as the rim of the glass touched his lips. He forgot just that easily that hard liquor had been eliminated from his diet.

Bonnie stared at him inquisitively. "Everything okay? Scared to take that shot to the head?" she teased.

"I…" Damon swore he felt his heart do a back flip in his chest. He had gone so long without a drink that the smell of the tequila was making him slightly nauseous. "I um…forgot that I'm technically on an alcohol hiatus."

"Oh," Bonnie didn't know how not to make this awkward. She was hoping he wasn't a recovering alcoholic.

Damon could almost read those thoughts on her face. "It's not because I have a problem," he quickly ratified.

"It's okay," Bonnie relinquished the shot glass from his custody, held it up, and swallowed it down the hatch. "Smooth," she said hoarsely.

Damon laughed. "Look, I…know its late but I was wondering if you might want to go someplace a little quieter, have a cup of coffee although that might not be such a good idea in your case, and we could just talk. Catch up."

The idea was tempting but Bonnie couldn't just up and leave with a man she barely knew. No matter how tempting, and it was very tempting to take Damon up on his offer, but like he said it was late and she needed to make her way home.

"I…" Bonnie started to say.

"Bonnie," Rebekah pushed her way to the bar and barely glanced in Damon's direction. She grabbed Bonnie by the arm. "We're ready to head out. Let's go."

"Oh, um…." Bonnie bit her lip and split her attention between Damon who clearly didn't want the night between them to end, and her impatient looking former sister-in-law. "Okay, I'll meet you guys out front in five minutes."

"The car is waiting. Can you make it two?"

Inwardly, Bonnie growled and wanted to bark at Rebekah not to rush her. She curtly nodded her head. Rebekah pivoted in her Jimmy Choo's and barreled her way back through the crowd.

"Fun's over," Damon pouted.

"Unfortunately. I had a good time and it was really good to run into you, Damon. What are the odds of our paths crossing in a city that seven million people call home?"

"What are the odds indeed," Damon intoned as guilt percolated in his stomach. He had known about her whereabouts for months, and though tonight happened to be a coincidence, the times he showed up at her favorite restaurant during her lunch break were not.

Retrieving his phone from his back pocket, Damon opened up his contact list. "Can I have your number?"

"Sure," Bonnie tried not to grin too much as she typed her info into his phone. She even gave him both her personal and work email. Maybe that was a bit overkill, but she wanted to give him all available avenues in contacting her.

"Where's your phone so I can give you my info?" Damon held out his hand waiting for the device to fall into his palm.

"Crap, Rebekah has my stuff. Just tell me your number. I'll remember it. I've always been good with numbers."

"You sure?"

"Yes, dude."

Snorting, Damon rattled off all ten digits, Bonnie recited them back to him perfectly and he had to say that shouldn't have turned him on, but it did.

"Let me walk you to the door," the blue-eyed entrepreneur offered.

He took possession of Bonnie's hand and directed her through the crowd and the rush of cold air slapped the both of them in the face when they neared the door. Bonnie went stiff; Damon did his best to ignore the bite of the gale wind that flew through the thin barrier of his clothes.

They turned to face one another. Bonnie smiled shyly and wanted to kick herself. She had long surpassed having jitters as if she were in high school talking to the captain of the football team because the captain of the football team was king.

Saying she had a good time would have been redundant. Would saying she wanted to see him again make her seem too eager? Didn't guys like the chase? Bonnie had been out of the dating loop and with Henrik their courtship had been so natural. No games, no playing as if they didn't like each other and didn't want to be around the other twenty-four seven. Bonnie came across her share of handsome men, but none of them affected her like Damon and he hadn't done anything. It scared her but deep down she wasn't really afraid.

"So…I guess this is good night," she said.

"I guess it is. You'll be hearing from me soon. I don't want to dick around and act like I have no interest in you, Bonnie. I do," his tone of voice brokered no argument.

"Okay," Bonnie murmured breathlessly. "Well, good night, Damon."

He picked up her hands and brought each one to his mouth and planted a soft kiss on her knuckles without looking away. "Good night, Bonnie Bennett."

The space between her thighs would start pounding soon if she didn't vacate immediately.

"Bye," Bonnie slipped her hands from his although that was the last thing she actually wanted to do. She headed to the door, turned to face Damon unsurprised his gaze was still locked on her. She waved and stepped out into the frigid New York air and climbed into the waiting town car.

Elijah barked at the driver to go, and Bonnie barely even heard the brusque command since she was too busy staring at Damon who loitered in the threshold.

Barclay Towers

March 27th, 2014 11:46 p.m.

Damon lain in bed, his sheets draped along his naked waist, one arm tucked behind his head, the other holding his cell phone. He blinked as he debated whether he should call Bonnie now like his bones were screaming that he do, or wait until a more appropriate time. He didn't want to give her the impression he just wanted to have sex with her. He did but that wasn't exactly his specific target, his goal, or his endgame.

He only wanted to hear her voice. Wanted to hear her laugh. Wanted to make her laugh and erase any further misgivings she might have about him. Meeting someone in a club didn't always translate into something more beyond a one night stand. Damon might be an advocate for acting on one's natural impulse to fornicate and fornicate frequently, but when it came to someone he wanted to be serious about he found himself wanting to go about things in a more traditional route.

No, he wouldn't call her tonight, but he'd text her in the morning and ask Bonnie when a good time to call her would be. Damon meant what he said. In terms of being interested in her and he would make damn sure Bonnie knew it.

Queens, NY

March 28th, 2014 12:05 a.m.

Bonnie turned over in bed and her eyes much to her chagrin popped open. Being wide awake was the total opposite of what she needed to be considering she had work, meetings, and packing to do. She was in the process of selling the brownstone and searching for an apartment in Manhattan to move into to cut down on her commute into work. That's what her thoughts should have been on.

Not Damon Salvatore.

Punching her pillow and wiggling around to find a more comfortable spot on the mattress, Bonnie forced her eyes shut only for them to spring open once more.

She reached for her cell just to see if he might have called since the last time she checked her phone only half an hour ago. Bonnie ignored the fact she had checked for missed calls at least five times before deciding she needed to get to bed.

No missed calls, text messages, or emails. Bonnie sighed. "You're being ridiculous. He'll call when he calls."

That's what she told herself but doubt ate away at her. What if he never called? Well she had his number and she could always call him. But Grams had advised her that if a man were interested he would pursue and all you had to do was show interest, but not too much. No chasing after a man.

That had been advice coming from a woman who married her high school sweetheart, and stayed married until her grandfather's death when she was eleven years old.

Should Bonnie heed her Grams' words although some might find her ideals about relationships archaic and covered in dust?

No, it was best to exercise patience.

Seriously, this time when Bonnie's lids lowered she would make sure they stayed that way until her alarm went off at five a.m.

Or when her text message alert beeped, catapulting her to a sitting position as she scrambled for her phone. Plugging in her passcode, heart thumping in her throat, Bonnie opened up her text message and began smiling like she was filming a commercial for dentistry.

Message from Damon: Hi, r u up?

Nibbling her lip Bonnie could either ignore it or reply back. Her fingers were already typing a message before her decision had been etched in stone.

Bonnie: Just getting to bed. She decided to mess with him. Who is this?

Not a second later her message alert chimed.

Damon: The most dangerous man in Manhattan.

She laughed and shook her head.

Bonnie: And I gave you my number? I must have bumped my head.

Damon: Even with a concussion, you made a wise choice.

Bonnie: So you say. What are you doing? Shouldn't you be asleep?

Damon: I would be but I can't get someone off my mind.

Bonnie: Someone like who?

Damon: You.

She was blushing again, cheeks filled with so much blood they threatened to burst.

Bonnie: Maybe you should try harder.

Damon: You're not easily forgettable.

Was he trying to seduce her because if he were, Bonnie had to say it was working.

Bonnie: What about me is unforgettable? That's right put his ass on the spot.

Her phone started ringing and she nearly threw it across the room because it scared her. Bonnie's hand started shaking and she admonished herself to get over it, and answer the damn phone.

"Hello?"

"Well, hello," Damon crooned. "Sorry for calling so late. I really tried to resist, but I couldn't help it."

"Its fine," Bonnie placated and though she should have been a bit irritated he would think it was perfectly fine to call during booty call hours, she hadn't been able to sleep since her thoughts were plagued with nothing but him anyways. "I was having trouble falling asleep."

"So was I. Did you have a good day?"

"I did. What about you?"

"It sucked up until now."

Bonnie made some strange noise and covered it up with a fake cough. "So any particular reason why you decided to call me? We were having a pretty good texting conversation."

"Yeah we were but the list of what makes you unforgettable was too long I needed to tell you, and not write it out. Plus, I have a bad case of carpel tunnel."

Bonnie laughed, settled against the mattress. "It's late, Damon and we both have work in the morning. We don't have to do this now."

"You're right we don't but judging from the sound of your voice…you certainly want to. Convince me you don't and I'll call you at a much more appropriate hour."

Challenge issued and if Bonnie were to be honest about it, she didn't want to accept it. She had wanted to hear his voice, and listening to it was a harsh reminder it had been too long since she did this. Talked to a man who stimulated her not just physically.

"You have one hour of my time, Mr. Salvatore and then I've got to get off the phone, get some sleep so I can report to work as only half a zombie."

His deep chuckle made her smile. "Sounds like a compromise I can work with. Now here's what makes you so unforgettable. That smile of yours for starters."

"Mmm, what else?"

"Although I don't know you all that well intuition tells me you have a loving soul."

"Most people do."

"Yeah, you're right. I just don't know many who hold on to that living in New York."

"Touche. Have you lived here since graduating?" Bonnie asked.

"Yep. You?"

"I moved back home to Virginia for a year prior to making the move to the Big Apple. Now back to this list."

Damon gifted her with another chuckle.

One hour turned into two, two into three, and before either of them was aware of it, the sky was turning from tuxedo black to light indigo.

Her throat was hoarse, her ear was numb, but Bonnie couldn't tear herself off the phone. Her eyes had disintegrated into sand and her head throbbed with fatigue, but hanging up seemed to be a task too burdensome for her to tackle alone.

"I should let you get some sleep," Damon said after a considerable pause. "It's almost…"

"Dawn," Bonnie cut him off. "My day at work is going to suck."

"I can make it up to you. Have dinner with me this Friday if you don't already have plans."

"Dinner?" she smiled drowsily. "Sounds like a winner. Call me," she yawned.

"All right, sleepy head. Let me let you go. I really like talking to you, Bonnie."

"I like talking with you, too, Damon."

"Sleep," he commanded.

Her eyes were already closed. "Okay."

"Good morning."

She laughed tiredly. "Morning," she stifled another yawn.

"Hang up."

"You hang up."

"We'll hang up together," Damon bargained.

"Fine. On the count of three. One."

"Two."

"Three."

Neither one of them hung up. And it took an additional ten minutes to officially end their conversation.

When they did, Bonnie rolled over on her back and stared at Henrik's side of the bed. "I'm sorry."

She shouldn't have enjoyed her conversation with Damon as much and certainly not in the bed she shared with her husband. But Henrik was gone. He wasn't coming back and she needed to move on.

Tucking herself into the fetal position, Bonnie finally went to sleep.

Times Square, NY

March 31st, 2014 2:20 pm.

The cling and clang of silverware scraping along fine china with the dim murmuring of voices both soothed and irritated Elena. She was making absolutely no headway in stopping her divorce from Damon altogether, had pretty much been stonewalled from slapping him with a countersuit of fraud in that he lied to her and went back on the promises he declared during their wedding ceremony and throughout the course of their relationship. Plus, it was pretty hard to hit him back legally when she didn't have the funds necessary to hire counsel.

Now the gloves had to come off.

Caroline was still helping her out—so to speak. She had dropped her as a client but did a favor for Elena whenever the spirit of generosity slapped her in the head. Elena knew she was at the end of her rope and she was banking the next installment of her plan to make Damon's life hell with this little meeting.

She spotted her lunch companion entering the restaurant looking the picture of nerves, a bad dye job, and way too much makeup. Waving her hand in the air, Elena summoned the girl who crossed the restaurant and quickly sat down in the chair across from her at the squared shaped table.

"Thanks for meeting with me, Dana."

"Thanks for asking me to lunch, Missus Salvatore," the skittish young woman squeaked in kind.

"No need for formalities. Please call me, Elena."

Dana attempted a smile but gave up halfway through and jumped when their waitress appeared to go over the specials and to inquire what they wanted to drink. Once that was taken care of, Elena placed her elbows on the table, and made sure her eight karat ring caught the glare of the beaming sun.

"I guess you're curious as to why I wanted to meet with you," Elena began.

Dana reached for a bread stick, bit off nearly half of it, and chewed with her mouth open. Elena grimaced but otherwise kept her comments about table manners to herself.

"It's not often you get a phone call from your former boss' wife," Dana talked with her mouthful.

Elena's stomach lurched at the sight. "I know things became tough for you when you were released from Salvatore Models Inc. All the designers who gushed over you and vied for you to wear their fashions and strut in their shows basically turned their backs on you because of your…um…recreational habits. Its par for the course but naturally everyone wants to pretend as if that kind of stuff doesn't happen behind the scenes. You were brave, Dana."

"I was stupid," she refuted. "I burned a lot of bridges."

"But there's one you haven't burned," Elena sat back in her seat and studied the girl with an unflinching eye. "But someone else certainly took a match to it."

Dana gulped. She had known Elena in a roundabout kind of way for the last five years. Dana always thought she was the prettiest of Salvatore Models, and it came as no surprise when she and the big man, the CEO himself Damon Salvatore began dating and started a torrid love affair that had plenty of tongues wagging. But Dana kept abreast of what was going on in the modeling world via friends who hadn't cast her completely to the wolves and gave her a hand out from time to time.

Every day she battled her addiction to prescription painkillers, alcohol, shoplifting, and sex. It wasn't easy and she was beginning to get her life back in order. Dana couldn't help but wonder what Elena Gilbert-Salvatore wanted with her considering she was going through a divorce with her former employer. And she didn't get the impression Elena was giving her a job.

"How would you like to make a million dollars?" Elena asked point blank.

Dana nearly choked on the bread. "A million dollars?" she sputtered and already she was visualizing shopping on Park 5th Avenue and Rodeo Drive. "How?"

"We'll get to that in a moment. You would say that you and Mr. Salvatore, my husband had gotten close when he mentored you, right?"

Dana shrugged. She never spent any personal time with Damon Salvatore. He took her out to dinner but that had been in an entourage setting. "I suppose."

"And he was always professional, yes?"

"Yeah."

"Which brings me to my point, Dana. I need you do something for me. A really big favor."

"What?" Dana said a bit wearily. No one forked over that kind of cash without some serious strings attached. Her hospital and rehab bills were piling up and she could certainly use the money.

Elena slid to the edge of her seat. "I need you to testify you had an affair with Damon when you were only…sixteen."

Chapter end.

A/N: I'm battling a head cold so this feels like something is missing and I might go and make drastic changes later when I'm not congested, but let me know what you think. Elijah's feels are revealed, so to speak, and Elena playing the dirtiest of dirty cards to get her way, and what about Bamon? I wanted to do something a little fluffier with them but it won't always be that way. Thanks for reading! Until next time. Love you!