Happy Birthday to sbaumrose86!
Damon stares at Elena dumbfounded. She's laying on his black silk sheets with the comforter pulled up to just below her breasts. She runs her hands through her dark hair as she looks at him. Why, with his wedding only a day away, is it her that he's thinking of? Why is it her face he can't get out of her head, or her touch, and God he wants to taste her?
Elena touches her fingers to her mouth. She gently runs her tongue over her full lips as she stares back at him.
Damon shudders at the thought of his hands on her and how it would feel to have his body pressed to hers and the feel of her teeth on his skin.
"I said close this door, Damon. Now come here." Elena wags her finger at him.
He blows out a breath as he's pulled from his musings. "You're wearing my pajamas."
Elena nods as her eyes sparkle.
"I don't want to call the police but I know your whole scheme," Damon starts to pace back and forth.
"You do?"
"And I know who's behind it all," Damon tells her firmly as he leans over her.
"No, you don't." Elena shakes her head.
"I can give you names. This probably has something to do with Katherine's father. He's running for governor and if there's a scandal with his daughter...he'll murder me."
"No one's going to murder you, Damon. I won't allow it."
"How much are they paying you?"
"Nothing."
"You're just doing it for love?" Damon counters.
"Yes, Damon." Elena lays back down and smirks. "Father thought it'd be a good idea."
"Who is your father?" Damon asks as he leans over her.
"You've never met him."
"But he doesn't want Katherine's father to be the governor?"
"Father doesn't care about that," Elena tells him matter-of-factly.
"But he's out to get me?"
"Yes."
"I'm a pretty good judge of character...and I don't think you're a bad girl." Damon air-quotes the words.
"Don't you?" Elena asks as makes circles on his chest with her fingernails.
"You're very young, Elena."
"I'm older than you'd guess." Elena winks at him.
"Maybe you shouldn't go back to your father?"
"I'd much rather stay with you," Elena brings his hand to her mouth and kisses his fingertips one by one.
"You would? You really would, wouldn't you?"
Elena bobs her head excitedly.
"Listen, Elena.
"I think I know what's going on. Just because I was of some help in getting you out of that blazing inferno perhaps you are, momentarily infatuated with me. But it isn't love. And I'm not in love with you."
"I guess this will take longer than I planned," Elena murmurs silently.
"I'm afraid you have rather a romantic mind. You see, love isn't just a matter of two people meeting under romantic circumstances." Damon walks over to the cabinet beneath the television and pulls out two glass tumblers and a bottle of Cream of Kentucky bourbon.
"Real love grows slowly..." he states as he pours some into each glass.
"Like you and your fiance?"
Accepting the offered glass, Elena takes a sip, letting the alcohol burn across her tongue and down her throat.
Damon takes a long swill from his glass. "It's different with Katherine and me. Our fathers are both very important people and astute businessmen. They had this wedding planned almost from the day we were born...to unite our two families and build an unstoppable powerhouse in the business world."
"You mean you don't love the woman you're supposed to marry?" Elena asks, intrigued by Damon's candor.
"That's really none of your business," Damon chides and empties his glass. "My father promised to make me the chief operating officer of the company. I can't go back on my word now, not with the wedding in a few hours," he explains.
"That's all I needed to know," Elena says as she sees the uncertainty in his eyes. "Is keeping a promise worth a lifetime of unhappiness?"
Damon stares at her for a few moments, contemplating her words. With a sigh, he refills his tumbler and sits down on the bed beside Elena...
Next thing Damon knows, he's kneeling at the bedside stroking Elena's hair as he gazes lovingly into her eyes. "There have been thousands and thousands of couples just like us going their separate ways never realizing the other was waiting somewhere. Why, Romeo and Juliet knew right away. That's what Shakespeare's trying to tell us. Of course, the case of Dante and Beatrice is different. He saw her only once. But at that moment, the whole world was bathed in a new light. It wasn't just a humdrum world anymore, where you had to get up in the morning and meet a lot of stupid people," his voice trails off when there's a knock on the bedroom door.
"Who's that?"
"It's 8:00, Mr. Salvatore."
"What?"
"8:00," his housekeeper, Mrs. Flowers repeats.
"That's impossible." Damon jumps to his feet and looks at the clock. "But... it's true!"
"Good morning, Damon," Elena says happily.
"Good morning, Elena. It just seems like a few minutes since I came in and found you here," Damon replies as he sits down in a chair.
"Don't you want your breakfast?" Mrs. Flowers asks as she enters the room with a tray of food. "You're as bad as when you were a little boy. Even on a day like this, I have to call you half a dozen times," the old woman laughs. "Oh, and what a beautiful day it is, too. Happy is the bride that the sun shines on." her voice trails off when she sees Elena smiling amusedly.
"Good morning. Mmm! That smells good!" Elena crawls out of bed, lifts up the lid, and breathes in the aroma of fresh waffles. "You don't know how long it's been since I've eaten."
"Mr. Damon!" Theophilia bursts out as she looks at him harshly.
"I'll explain later, Mrs. Flowers."
"What can you possibly say?" She glares at him with contempt.
"Well, you," Damon pauses when he sees Elena pick up the waffle and fold it in half. He rises to help her. "No, No, no, dear. Not like that. First, you butter them, hmm? And then a little syrup."
"Mr. Damon, I've worked for your family for 30 years. I've been almost a mother to you and to think that on this day, of all days," Mrs. Flowers scolds as she throws her arms up and leaves his room.
"What's that?" Elena asks, considering him with luminous eyes as Damon picks up the phone. He dials and uses his finger to shush her.
"Hello, this is Damon Salvatore. I need you to send some clothes over to my house for a young lady. I think she probably wears the same size as Miss Pierce...Oh, yes, and send up some evening gowns too, please. You see, everything the young lady had was destroyed in a fire. Send them up right away...Thank you." He ends the call.
Hooking a finger beneath her chin, Damon lifts her face and forces her brown eyes to meet his blue ones. "You know, I think you've broken my record for waffles."
Elena nods.
"Those people are still downstairs waiting." Theophilia returns with more waffles.
"Mrs. Flowers, these have made a great hit with her," Damon comments as he watches Elena devour the food.
"Did you even hear me?" Mrs. Flowers glowers at Damon with her hands on her hips.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Damon asks as he looks up at the woman who's shooting daggers at him.
"Those people. I told you they were here three batches of waffles ago."
"Did you? Never mind. Who are they?"
"You'll find out," Theophilia tells him, cooly, watching as Damon leaves the room.
"Mm, more waffles?" Elena looks at the older woman expectantly.
"There's no more batter," the older woman counters as she picks up the tray table and walks through the door.
Elena glowers at her back and snaps her fingers. The clattering sound of breaking glass immediately follows as Mrs. Flowers crashes to the floor.
Having heard the commotion, Damon appears and helps Mrs. Flowers to her feet. "Are you okay?"
"What are you even thinking?" she retorts as she scowls at him.
"Huh?"
"It's Miss Pierce and her father who are downstairs."
"Who?" Damon asks as he stoops over to pick up the tray table.
"Miss Pierce, the lady you're getting married to," Theophilia snaps at him with a scolding look on her face.
"Oh, shit!" Damon gasps as he runs down the stairs to meet them.
"Good morning," Damon greets them, forcing a smile as he kisses Katherine on the cheek.
"Good morning, Damon," Mr. Pierce returns the salutation.
"I'd forgotten you were coming over," Damon comments, his eyes darting between the two of them.
"We didn't say we were. What's the matter with you?" Katherine scolds as her nostrils flare.
"We had to come over. Have you seen the papers?" Walter asks and hands Damon a copy. "They've got you all over the front page for saving that woman."
Damon glances at the paper and turns to Katherine. "Hadn't you better go?" he suggests. "It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding."
"Don't be ridiculous," Katherine scoffs with an eye roll.
"Saving that girl was the luckiest break. You don't know what that can do for my campaign," Walter Pierce boasts.
"I have a rough idea," Damon murmurs under his breath.
"I've arranged an interview for you with the local paper," Walter states smugly. "You can tell them all about rescuing that damsel in distress."
"That's really unnecessary. Anyone would have done the same." Damon shakes his head, not wanting the publicity.
Mr. Pierce refuses to take no for an answer. "I'll have you back by 11:00. That gives you plenty of time."
"If you insist, Walter," Damon sighs. "Come, Katherine, let's go."
"No, I'm going to stay here. I want to see about brightening up this antique shop of a house. The photographers will be here. Run along now."
Not wanting Katherine to run into Elena, Damon grabs her arm. "I'd feel much better if you came along. You are my betrothed, after all."
"Damon, don't be stupid," she protests as he drags her to the door and pulls it open.
"Just hang on, I need to grab my jacket," Damon walks over to the coat rack and catches a glimpse of Elena at the top of the stairs. He pauses a moment to admire her beauty and smiles up at her.
Elena's face twists in anger. She waves her arms through the air. The front door slams shut knocking Katherine and her father to the ground.
"How did that happen?" Damon asks Mrs. Flowers as he opens the door and helps Katherine to her feet.
"I don't know, it just slammed shut."
"What's he going out with her for?" Elena asks harshly as she slides down the banister.
"Why shouldn't he? He's going to marry her in less than three hours. As for you, young lady..."
"Oh, go to sleep," Elena snaps and waves her hand. Mrs. Flowers's eyes drop shut as she slides down the door sound asleep with a loud snore escaping her mouth.
"After all my work!" Elena crosses her arms over her chest and paces in the foyer. "Three hours. That doesn't give me much time. I wish Father were here," Elena paces as she gnaws on a fingernail.
"What seems to be the trouble?" comes from the parlor.
As she enters, flames are burning brightly, giving off a plume of white smoke. "Oh, good morning, Father. I need some advice. Damon's tougher than I thought. I can't seem to make him love me."
"Thou art the veriest bungler. I must have been drunk to give thee a body," Grayson comments with a note of sarcasm as the flames rise and consume the logs.
"Oh, don't smoke so much, Father." Elena waves it from her face.
"Did something go wrong with thy philter?"
"My what?"
"Thy love philter. Thou gavest him one, I presume," Grayson replies.
"No. I thought I could do it barehanded," Elena sighs as she blows out a breath.
"Art thou a witch or a woman? Prepare a love philter at once. Dost thou recall the incantation?" Grayson asks as he blinks a kettle over the flame.
"Yes, I remember it," Elena confirms and with a smirk, she turns to gaze at the black cast iron pot. "Kettle, kettle on the hob Hurry up and do thy job. Steam and hiss and while you do cook an all-compelling brew so that he who sips will be a slave to love's captivity." She watches as the ingredients in the pot start to bubble and churn.
"Now put it in a cool place until ready," Grayson instructs her.
"What will it taste like, Father?" Elena asks as she ladles the liquid into a cup.
"Like cool water... but 'twill set Master Salvatore's blood on fire."
Elena smiles devilishly. "Then I'll treat him like a slave. I'll make him suffer, body and soul."
"Speaking of bodies," Grayson starts. "I have a notion to make a personal appearance myself. Of course, I'll have to burn a house down to do it." He chuckles.
"Not this one, Father. I have a better idea: the building he's in now. Twill force him back to me," Elena smiles deviously at the thought.
"Excellent! Good hunting, Elena," Grayson says as the fire goes out.
"'Tis growing cool. Now we shall see if thou canst resist me, Master Salvatore." Elena takes the glass and rides the banister to the landing at the top of the staircase.
"Not dressed yet?" Giuseppe asks starkly when Damon pulls into the driveway.
"I'm lucky to be alive," Damon states as he climbs out of the car and rushes to the front door.
"What happened?"
Damon rolls his eyes. "Katherine's father insisted I do an interview about the fire and suddenly I'm in another one. Mysterious explosion on the roof, screams, and chaos."
"Anybody hurt?"
"No, we all got out all right. What's wrong with this door?" Damon can't seem to get the front door open. He gives it a hard shove and slides in, having pushed Mrs. Flowers out of the way.
"Mrs. Flowers?" Damon helps her to her feet.
"What are you two doing in my bedroom?" She asks, looking suspiciously at the two men.
Giuseppe shares a look with Damon, "What happened?"
"Oh, I must have dozed off."
"Go upstairs and get dressed," Giuseppe scolds. "And where's the brandy?"
"Did you get rid of that girl?" Damon asks as he looks around.
"That girl? Oh! She must still be here," Theophilia states as Giuseppe helps to steady her.
"Well, she won't be here for long," Damon calls from the top of the steps and stalks toward his room where he finds Elena looking splendid in a beautiful dress, one fit for a bride.
"Ah, you listen to me, Elena," he slips his jacket off. "Come on, come on. Get up."
"I'm listening, Mr. Salvatore." Elena notices the way his eyes rake over her. "Why do you look at me that way? Oh... my dress. Do you like it?" Elena draws her bottom lip between her teeth.
Damon grips her chin, using his thumb and forefinger to hold her still while staring into her eyes. "C'mon, Elena, you're beautiful," he implores, no longer able to resist the urge to pry her lip free and smooth his thumb across it like he'd wanted to do the first time they'd met. Encouraged when he sees her eyes darken and heard her breath hitch, he steps closer, trailing a finger up her jawline and brushing an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
"Enough to make a man fall in love?" Elena asks as she smiles coyly at him.
Leaning forward, his lips graze her cheek in a ghost of a kiss. When he pulls back, her eyes are glazed over with lust and a bright red blush was creeping up her neck to her cheeks.
"Damon," Elena breathes. She's standing right where he'd left her, with her palm against her cheek and her dazed eyes staring after him.
"I'm supposed to be getting married in an hour." Damon shakes himself out of his stupor. "Look, Elena," he says sternly.
"I don't like the tone of your voice," Elena counters, as she glances at the potion-filled goblet.
"I swallowed some smoke last night, and I just swallowed more now. But that's not going to stop me."
Elena waves him off. "Damon wants a drink of water. Nice, cool water." She raises it to his mouth but he pushes her hand away.
"Thank you..."
"Drink it, and then I'll be glad to hear anything you have to say. You'll find out that no one named Salvatore is able to stay away from me," Elena says as she backs away from Damon, and when she hits a wall, the sturdily-framed portrait of Alessandro Salvatore falls off the wall and strikes her head.
"Elena, Elena, can you hear me?" Damon lifts her off the floor and into a chair. "Here, here. Drink this." Damon brings the potion to her lips. "There, you go," he says as she swallows it down and opens her eyes. "How do you feel? Are you okay?"
"I, I feel strange." Elena palms her temples. "What happened?"
"The portrait fell off the wall. Does your head hurt?" Damon asks as concern is etched all over his face.
"My head?" Elena asks, confused.
Damon nods.
"No. It's my heart. It feels so light." Elena looks at Damon dreamily.
"You're going to have a goose egg on your head."
"Never mind that. I must tell you how I feel. Oh, Damon, you're so beautiful," she says as she stares at him, mesmerized. His blue eyes are the light of unnamed stars diffused through dust and elements and endlessness...
Feeling fingertips graze her cheek, she shakes herself out of her stupor. "Take my hand."
"Don't start that again." Damon shakes his head.
"Oh, my darling." Elena wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in for a kiss just as Giuseppe enters the room.
"Let my son alone!" he scolds Elena and pushes Damon away from her.
"She got a good knock on the head. That old portrait you insist I keep." Damon points to it.
Elena notices the empty goblet. "Aren't you glad you drank it, Damon?"
"I didn't drink anything."
"What's she talking about?" Giuseppe asks, looking at Elena scathingly.
"A glass of water. I gave it to her when she was coming to."
"You gave it to me?" Elena asks with a shakey voice followed by a painful-sounding wail.
"Come on. We're late." Giuseppe drags Damon to his feet and through the bedroom door.
"What are we going to do with her? We can't just leave her."
"Oh, yes we can," Giuseppe states as he locks her in the bedroom.
"But, Dad," Damon protests as his father locks the door and urges him down the stairs.
Elena is pacing back and forth in Damon's room when her father appears.
"How do you like my body, Elena?" he asks as he looks at the reflection of an older man looking back at him. "Has the potion been administered?"
"Yes. Father, something went wrong with our plan," Elena grimaces.
"Nonsense, that love philter never fails," Grayson counters.
"It didn't fail, Father; I drank it," Elena counters starkly.
"Nicodemus! Then you love him!" he gasps.
"Yes, Father. But he's about to marry someone else because of my ancient curse on the Salvatores. Do you think if I explained it all to him?" Elena asks as her insides churn.
"Telling a mortal you're a witch will only mean the end of you. Do you want to get burned at the stake a second time?" Grayson scoffs at her.
"Then what shall I do? He must not marry her. You won't let him, will you? Please, Father?" Elena pleads. "You could make him love me. You can do anything you want."
"Yes, this problem should be fairly simple. Just leave it all to me."
" Oh, thank you, Father!" Elena gushes and hugs him.
"Will you leave it to me?"
"I promise."
"Splendid," Grayson sits down but jumps up quickly when his backside burns the chair cushion. He chuckles, "I'm still a little warm from the fire."
"Oh, father," Elena laughs.
"Elena, fetch me a pair of Master Salvatore's breeches. We're going to his wedding."
Thank you all so so much.
Chapter title: That Old Black Magic by Ella Fitzgerald.
The Cream of Kentucky Bourbon brand was originally introduced in 1888 by I. Trager & Co. of Cincinnati, Ohio. The brand became popular in the '30s and '40s, thanks in part to Norman Rockwell providing artwork for its marketing.
If you're not reading CosmicAdventurer's stories, you're missing out. "Timey Wimey" is a rip-snorting tale full of imagination and it's fantastic as are all of her stories. Florencia7, too, writes a magical DE.
The reviews don't sound good for Indiana Jones... I'm wary but I'll go to it and see for myself.
Have a wonderful day everyone. I hope my American friends have a wonderful Independence Day.