Chapter Seven: Ticking All The Boxes

Elena Gilbert

Stefan: Caroline told me what happened. Take a couple of days off. Don't give me the new key until we figure out where this creep got it from.

Elena had slung her satchel bag over her shoulder and was about to leave to go to work when she received Stefan's message. She sighed, tilting her head as she stared disapprovingly at the screen. Caroline Forbes: gossip extraordinaire. The news had probably spread like wildfire among every employee in the company before they'd even entered the building this morning.

Elena didn't need two days off work, but she would take them anyway, just to avoid the low whispers and sympathetic looks she would now get in the office. She was relieved she hadn't yet told Caroline she'd invited her stalker over last night, or else her friends would now be setting up an intervention – disguised as a group chat – called "Elena has lost her mind".

Maybe she had lost her mind, but she was determined to find out who her stalker was. These two days would give her time to do exactly that. She couldn't believe he'd foiled her plan and turned up with his face hidden behind a motorcycle helmet last night! As a novelist, it had pained her to deliberately send all those typos pretending she was drunk – and it was all for nothing! She still had no clue who he was.

He did have a nice body though – that she unfortunately did notice. After her fists fell down onto the solid muscle of his chest, it took all her willpower not to flatten her hands and turn those quick thumps into slow strokes. But, as luck would have it, that unexpected temptation just infuriated her more. How dare he turn up looking like something out of a romance novel... all mysterious, with rolled-up sleeves, biteable forearms, and muscles that radiated so much heat she wanted to curl up on them like a kitten! The nerve of him!

As she was about to put her phone away, it vibrated again.

Elijah: Meet me in our coffee shop after work. *Love heart emoji*

Elena grimaced at the emoji... and why did he have to say "our" coffee shop? The fact that she kept bumping into him there did not make it "theirs", like they had some kind of romantic history with the place. Elijah was charming and handsome, sure, but she wasn't interested in him romantically. There was something "off" about him that she couldn't put her finger on. Maybe she was reading too much into it – he was a good friend, and he'd never asked to be more than that. He was just... over-friendly. It was a little odd, but nothing too concerning. It wasn't like he was stalking her... unlike this other creep who couldn't keep out of her inbox.

User192011211518: You were rough with me last night. I think I'm developing bruises all over my chest. Do you want to see?

ElenaGAuthor: Good! And no!

User192011211518: You know you waaaant to!

User192011211518: I could do with that Hurt/Comfort trope right about now. Hair strokes and baby talk would be nice.

Ergh, why hadn't she blocked him yet? Why?! Was she abiding by the phrase "Keep your enemies close", or did she have masochistic tendencies?

Or was it the weird thrill that ziplined its way through her body whenever she saw a message from him appear?

Elena resented that feeling. The asshole was an enigma, that was all. A mystery to be solved. Once she had solved it, he'd be out of her head forever... and certainly not hammering away in her chest like the symptom of a fever she was trying to shake.

She just needed to unwind. That need had been heightened since her encounter with him last night. After slamming the door in his face, she'd found her entire body ignited from wine and fury and immediately gone on the hunt for her Rose Toy. That's when she'd discovered the asshole had put it on to charge. She had no idea what he looked like, but she could imagine the stupid grin on his face when he did that.

So, she'd gone to bed (sans Rose Toy) and tried to sleep... but couldn't. The phantom sensation of his chest was still on her hands and, after an hour, she'd found herself opening up her phone to look at her stalker's profile picture, needing to put an image to that sensation. He'd never know... and, hey, why couldn't she stalk him back and give him a taste of his own medicine?

Except the dick had clearly been feeling extra dickish that evening.

ElenaGAuthor: Where's your profile picture?

User192011211518: I was wondering how long it would take you to notice. Only good girls get nice things, and you've been a very naughty girl tonight.

ElenaGAuthor: Are you threatening me, or talking dirty?

User192011211518: Talking dirty. Am I not pulling it off? It's a line from one of your books. The character says it in a "low growl". Okay, let me try that again.

Voice message received from User192011211518.

Elena had responded at lightning speed, hitting the play button before he had a chance to change his mind and delete it. There was no damn way he had sent her...

"You've been a... very... naughty... girl... tonight... Elena," her stalker scolded in a low, gruff, drawn-out whisper.

Uh-oh! Elena didn't bite down on her bottom lip fast enough to prevent a yielding whimper from escaping her throat. Her eyes widened and her fingers clutched the bedsheets. He'd definitely pulled it off. Heaven help her! Why did he have to add her name? Would it be cheeky of her to ask him to record audiobooks of her stories while he was in prison for stalking her?

She must have taken too long to respond.

User192011211518: Stop laughing. I tried my best.

Is that what he thought of his performance? Where was that ego of his now that he deserved it? Elena had certainly never laughed at the recording. She had, however, played it no less than five times before his next message came through.

User192011211518: I'll be generous – I'll change my picture back. There could only be one reason why you're looking at it at 1am anyway.

Luckily, Elena had been quick with an excuse.

ElenaGAuthor: I was checking for tattoos to try to identify you.

User192011211518: Sure you were. To save you time, I don't have any. Okay, the picture's changed.

ElenaGAuthor: That's a picture of Scooby Doo.

User192011211518: You really are waiting eagerly for it, aren't you? I won't tease you any longer. It's back up now. Enjoy! *Smirk emoji*

So, that was how the night had ended: with the sound of his low, reprimanding voice playing on repeat for a further hour, while she smiled into her pillow like a schoolgirl, fooling herself with the excuse that she was only listening to it so she could figure out what his regular voice sounded like.

But that was yesterday, and today the wine was out of her system, her head was clear, and her resolve was strong. The asshole may have been able to put on the kind of voice that sent excited shivers throughout her body, but he was still an asshole.

Elena stood at her doorway, wondering if the best way to unwind would be to return to bed and go back to sleep, or go outside for a walk.

Or...

She glanced over at her coffee table, where the voucher sat.

There was another option. She could see if she could get an appointment for a free massage.

As Elena drove into town, she decided to give herself credit for being able to rule out Stefan as her stalker. Stefan had a very distinctive shoulder tattoo, and she had downloaded, scrolled, and zoomed in on her stalker's photo plenty of times last night to establish that he had been telling the truth – he had no tattoos.

It was research, shut up, she scolded the still-tittering schoolgirl part of herself.

She pulled up in front of Rose and Savior and exited the car holding the voucher. It was a small but classy white building with a stately appearance, beige trim, and columns in the doorway. Pushing through the arched fully-glazed doors and into the waiting area, she approached the reception desk, where a woman in her mid-twenties, with short, layered, brown hair and a warm smile was ending a call on an antique-style telephone.

Elena handed her the voucher as she greeted her, and said, "I know this is a long shot, but I've had a hell of a week, and I wondered if there had been any cancellations today where you could squeeze me in?"

The woman, who introduced herself as the owner, Rose, raised her eyebrows at the voucher. "VIP? Full body massage?" she observed. "We don't hand out many of these, but I'm going to do my best to see what I can offer you." She opened up a large, glossy diary, and ran the back of her pen down the appointment listings, her smile slowly turning apologetic. "No cancellations, and we're fully booked today." Her pen then tapped against the pages as she considered an alternative option. She closed the diary and leaned closer, whispering, "We do, however, have the co-owner in today. While he doesn't officially offer massages, I can vouch for him. He's wonderful – he's invested a lot in this business, and I trained him myself – I consider him one of the best on the team."

A male masseuse? It wasn't exactly what Elena was expecting, but if he was that good, she could give him a shot. "Sounds great," she declared.

"Wonderful," Rose replied. "Take a seat and fill out this form while I speak to him. I promise you, it will be heaven."

Elena smiled curiously as she took the clipboard and pen and sat down on one of the ornate, high-back chairs by the window while Rose stepped into an office beside the counter. She crossed her legs and perched the clipboard on her knee, scanning the document. It was a list of the areas of her body she wanted massaged.

Feet? Check. Legs? Check. Buttocks...?

Elena frowned. She wasn't sure about...

"Oh, come on, you can do it this once." Rose's determined voice entered back into the room, as she pulled a suited man out of the office by his elbow.

Elena's eyes glanced upwards and lingered on the man. For a moment, her jaw hung open and she forgot how to breathe. This had to be the most gorgeous man in existence. Piercing blue eyes, a jawline that could cut glass, dark tousled hair, and the kind of chiseled body that could bring bruises to her knees, and no amount of layers could hide.

Her fingers tightened around the pen, which now dug into the paper.

Buttocks? Check.

In fact, she didn't even read the rest of the form. Check, check, check, check, check.

Maybe it was unprofessional, but if this man's touch was as magical as Rose claimed it to be, it was exactly what Elena needed right now.

In a whispered discussion with Rose, his head turned, glancing towards Elena briefly. He quickly looked again – and this time his eyes bulged wide open. Every part of him froze. He stood there for a moment, looking like a deer caught in headlights, before suddenly gripping Rose's arm and yanking her back into the office, slamming the door behind them.

Elena's eyebrows lowered. That was odd.

Undeterred, she stood and strolled over to the desk, placing the clipboard on top of Rose's diary, ready and waiting for their return.

The office door opened again, and Rose was pulling on the man's arm more forcefully this time. "No, my client will be here any second and they asked for me personally. I know you just came in to check the accounts, Damon, but this is a VIP customer – you can make an exception." Rose picked up the form and handed it to him.

It took a while for Damon to break the eye contact he had resumed with Elena, his expression intense and unreadable. Finally, he looked down at the form, and he inhaled sharply. "She's ticked everything!"

Elena glanced between the both of them, confused. "Was that too many?"

"No," Rose reassured her. "Your voucher entitles you to all the areas on that list, if that's what you want."

Damon pulled Rose close, speaking slowly as he hissed through his teeth into her ear, repeating, "She's ticked ev-ery-thing."

Rose shuffled from his grip and turned to him, crossing her arms. "Is there a problem, Damon?" she enquired sternly.

His sigh sounded more like a pained groan. Then he straightened his back, shook his head, and cleared his throat. "Nope," he declared in defeat. "No problem."

"Good," Rose smiled, tugging the newly-scrunched form from his tight hands, and placing it on the desk. She made her way around the counter to gently guide Elena to her room.

As Elena was led away, she looked back over her shoulder to see Damon close his eyes and press his forehead into the wall. "Is he okay?" she asked Rose.

"He's fine," Rose reassured her, bringing Elena's attention forward again. "Come on, I'll show you where to get undressed."

As Elena was led up the curved staircase, she could have sworn she heard a guttural yelp of anguish at the word "undressed" being quickly stifled by the man behind her.