A/N: Hello Bamon fandom! I wanted to do my part and contribute to this explosive pair.

Summary: This is an AU/AH story where Bonnie and Damon are married but they didn't exactly marry for orthodox reasons. When it comes to power, for right now things are severely one-sided with Damon seemingly holding all the keys, pulling all the strings, but what looks to be a dire situation and set in stone can change with the snap of the fingers.

Rating: R with MA material trickled throughout.

Pairings: Bonnie/Damon (main), Bonnie/Klaus (friendship), and others when necessary.

Disclaimer: These characters belong to LJ Smith/The CW. I own nothing but the plot.

Herein lied the problem. She was her own worst enemy. Everyone felt that way about themselves from time to time, but Bonnie Bennett knew it to be fact. Anytime something began to go according to plan, or an ounce of favor was shown her way, she would panic and look for a way to get out of her good fortune. The idea of fulfilling a dream or being successful scared her into hiding, into walking away, into submission leaving her little choice but to start over from scratch.

She didn't know how to stop herself. Didn't know how to accept something good and positive happening in her life simply because she deserved it. It was all foreign to her.

To those standing on the outside looking in they would argue she had it made, and she did to a certain degree. But all that glittered wasn't gold. She was married before the age of twenty-five, lived in a nice, fancy house with a full staff to run it, had access to a ridiculous pile of cash. Bonnie Bennett had the kind of looks that would cause a woman to question her own sexuality, and could tempt any man to follow her with his nose wide open.

And she couldn't forget about the man she was married to. No. Couldn't forget about him.

He was undeniably handsome. Jet black hair, ice blue eyes that could pull off being cold and compassionate at dizzying intervals, and a body that Homer would have written an epic poem about—that in a nutshell described her husband. A perfect piece of human flesh that contained no human soul.

Don't get her wrong. He had his moments where he'd draw back the curtain and would let her take a peek inside, but that was all she was allowed. A peek. Bonnie couldn't take notes, pictures, couldn't even get an autograph of his conscience before the doors were invariably slammed shut in her face. Her marriage hadn't been forged out of the iron of love, but the metal of convenience.

Convenience for her—blind opportunity for him.

She did her best not to think about how she came to be in this predicament as she swept the brush up her scalp, pulling her hair into a ponytail that she would eventually fashion into a chignon.

Music played softly in the background while she readied for tonight's social gathering her husband informed her of at the last possible second. Bonnie had been set to enjoy a night off from her arm piece duties, and had actually been excited and looking forward to lounging around in her jogging pants, oversized T-shirt, and toe socks stuffing her face with high calorie snacks while watching a movie. Those plans had been assiduously cancelled with hardly any consideration about her personal feelings on the matter. Bonnie had been under the impression he'd be flying across the United States for some conference in Rhode Island. Nope.

She sighed heavily and began the time consuming task of pinning her hair.

Mouth stuffed with bobby pins, Vivaldi trilling in the background, Bonnie almost didn't see that dark spot looming in the doorway watching her actions intently.

It had taken her sometime to get used to him suddenly appearing. And it had amused him greatly when she would jump after he caught her unawares. Bonnie lost count of the number of times she shrieked at him not to do that, and he ignored her wishes, and continued to enter rooms she was occupying without making a single sound. Scaring her gave him a perverse sense of joy and accomplishment, and it made Bonnie all the more bitter that she had so little power in her own marriage.

Again, she had to remind herself they didn't marry because they were sick with love for one another. In fact, Bonnie didn't want to examine too closely the real reason for her union. Her teeth would start grinding, and she would curse the day her half-brother Llewellyn Wilson was born.

It was his fault she was in this mess!

Her leaf green eyes shifted and stared at her significant other through the reflection of the mirror.

Leaning against the doorjamb, long legs crossed at the ankles, sinister smirk on his face attired in all black was business mogul Damon Salvatore. He could see the frown lines etching themselves deeper around his wife's mouth, and the dimple in her puckered brow was two seconds away from becoming a sinkhole in her forehead.

Their eyes met in the mirror and his expression didn't change, shift, or soften. Bonnie continued to look perturbed by his sudden appearance and he didn't cease in undressing her visually. Damon was all too familiar in what lied underneath the midnight blue lace that adorned her breasts and shielded her pussy. He groaned deeply at the thought alone and soon his mind—which was always a filthy wonderland began to envision her stretched out on their bed, thighs splayed and wide open giving him a bird's eye view of her delights.

She was a beautiful woman who titillated his senses without mercy. And he didn't want her to have mercy on him. As much as he loved screwing her, and hearing his name coming from her lips, grudgingly while he plowed into her, Bonnie held back and that frustrated the hell out of him. She could be so unerringly docile it made Damon despise the very sight of her sometimes. And whenever she got into that mood that's when he would deem it necessary to teach her a lesson.

This marriage was a contract in which they could both be sole beneficiaries if they worked together. Six months in and things had been fine. Damon's friends and constituents would say he and Bonnie were a perfect match even if their union had been sudden. They were alike in beauty. They perpetuated the illusion they were the couple in the room you had to get to know because they gave off such a strong air of adventure, mystery, and romanticism that leaving without being introduced and trading niceties seemed like a crime.

A year later and things were falling apart.

Behind closed doors, Bonnie would retreat within herself leaving Damon out in the cold. And instead of knocking on the door and asking for entrance, Damon would make himself scarce and ignored her just as his wife secretly preferred. Whenever she was being unfairly temperamental, he would in his own way remind his little wife that other women would stop at nothing to climb into his bed, and make all his wishes come true, and that she should be thankful he decided to marry her.

Usually that would leave Bonnie in a jealous stupor she'd try to deny was there by not speaking to him. Or she'd answer his questions in monosyllabic responses that only augmented his desire to bash her head open to see if anything was inside.

This push and pull they had had been exciting and now it was beyond irritating to Damon. He didn't just want a wife in name and paper only. However, he'd be the first to admit he didn't exactly know how to be a husband. It couldn't have been all that hard, he postulated, and that's why after five dates he proposed to Bonnie and she accepted—well she didn't exactly have a choice. Two months later they were married and these perfect strangers were still fighting on how to mesh their lives together.

The most obvious thing they could do was talk to one another, but Damon had always struggled with his emotions often teetering on the line that separated volatile and calm. Yet he always seemed to find himself tap dancing on the volatile side of things.

People bent to his will mostly out of fear. An emotional Damon Salvatore was a ruthless, unforgiving asshole who drank tears for breakfast.

Deep down, Damon didn't want to treat his wife with the same deference he bestowed on his employees and business partner, but it sometimes couldn't be helped. Bonnie lived in his world and hadn't fully gotten with the program yet.

"What are you wearing tonight?" he asked.

Hearing his voice made Bonnie blink. She honestly didn't expect him to say anything. Damon had an annoying habit of watching her, following her around with his eyes if they were in the same room, and not saying a word to her. It drove Bonnie crazy. When she couldn't put up with his scrutiny that's when she opted to leave the house altogether knowing he'd just seek her out and start the process all over again.

Bonnie shrugged. Her walk-in almost boutique like closet was lined with one notable designer after another. Damon had someone organize her space since he was anal about order. Everything was color coordinated and broken down into style so her pants and jeans weren't haphazardly mixed in with her evening gowns and coats. It helped shave time off finding what she wanted to wear and that was about it.

"Wear red," Damon said and it wasn't a suggestion.

Bonnie suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. "Don't you think that would be a little clichéd and ostentatious? I thought you said this was a black tie affair?"

"I did but I want you in red. You're the lady of the house. You should stand out."

Lady of the house, Bonnie inwardly snorted. More like a domesticated escort.

As if he read her thoughts, Damon pushed away from the door and swaggered over to her. As much as Bonnie wanted to deny it, Damon had a walk that made one stop short and just…drink in the sight of him.

He loomed behind her, planting his hands on the edge of the vanity. A battle of wills commenced as they stared unwaveringly at one another in the mirror. Bonnie always felt so small whenever Damon did this, but in a strangely weird way—protected.

Damon never hurt her physically, but he left scars in other places, and she did what she could return the favor. Bonnie wasn't stupid or aloof. Although Damon would never come out and say he wanted her to open up and trust him, it was exactly what he wanted. And when he couldn't get it that's when he would do things to spite her. Flirt with other women. Come home late making her think the worst, not respond to her phone calls whenever she worked up the nerve to call him, making cutting jokes and remarks about her in front of others. He did it all to remind her she was indebted to him. She wanted to treat their marriage like a business transaction then he'd treat her like property.

His fingers slid down her arm to her hand and he sank his digits between hers, their rings butting together.

Bonnie hadn't wanted anything flashy to symbolize she was a married woman. Damon had compromised and bought a simple diamond band to match his solid platinum one and that was it.

A shiver that began with their joined hands slowly crept up her forearm, continuing to her shoulder and began gliding toward her chest making her skin pebble.

His touch was her kryptonite. All he had to do to disarm her was touch her, press his body intimately close to hers, kiss her, tunnel his fingers into her panties and strum her body like a lute. She came alive under his ministrations. Became greedy and rapacious for the sensations that pummeled her whenever Damon filled her to the brim.

"My business partner from Sweden will be here tonight and I want to make a good impression. So you, wife," and he almost growled that acerbically at Bonnie, "will see to it that he leaves here with happy thoughts and a willingness to sign over more shares of the company to me. I know there's more to you than what's between your legs so be a doll and make me proud tonight."

Bonnie's blank expression became murderous at the end of Damon's spiel who grinned and dropped a kiss to her temple.

The hand that had been holding hers got missing and trailed along her shoulder before circling around to her front and began skimming over her heaving chest. Damon palmed her breast, and his grin spread until his teeth were showing as he kneaded her breast.

Bonnie felt her hand twitching because she wanted to slap him, punch him, do something to rebel. She stood up abruptly causing Damon to jerk backwards otherwise the crown of her head would have smashed into his chin.

She turned around and Damon squared himself for an attack.

Damon could see her skin flushing in her anger. He licked his lips and it would make him a liar if he said seeing Bonnie this enraged wasn't stirring his libido. He felt his shaft thickening and lengthening within the cotton confines of his boxer briefs, and the bulbous head of his prick would be weeping in a matter of seconds.

In her eyes, Damon read the declaration of hate beaming from her orbs.

Sometimes her strength could be found in her silence. When someone wanted you to have an adverse reaction to back up their claim—in certain situations it was best to have no reaction at all which was still having a reaction. Bonnie had learned that growing up in watching her parents argue and seeing her dad shutting down, closing off whenever her mom would get to ranting. It only served to infuriate her mom more, but she noticed it gave her dad unmitigated power which usually resulted in Abby Bennett backing down and storming off.

She put that technique into practice right now knowing Damon wanted her to be defiant and fight him on this, call him a few hundred choice names where he would inevitably turn the tables, and they'd be ripping off barriers and sinking into one another.

Not tonight. Sex wasn't going to be their referee.

Damon wasn't going to get under her skin.

"Can you leave so I can get dressed?" Bonnie looked at a point over Damon's shoulder.

He huffed and found himself a little disappointed. "I see you don't want to be any fun tonight. Be downstairs in an hour," he sulked off partially slamming the door after his exit.

Bonnie pivoted on her bare feet and eyed her reflection. Her makeup was done to accentuate her full, off centered lips, the almond shape of her eyes, her high cheekbones. Her hair was almost finished but for the moment she didn't move.

Damon wanted her to make him proud. Well, she'd do more than that.

BD

Male laughter dominated the sound of the room as quite a few people craned their necks doing their level best to see what was so hilarious. There were plenty of cliques and groups composed of four or more people that one had to be invited to join before pleasantries and gossip was traded. Those who weren't as familiar with some of the other attendees nursed their drinks, and waited for the prime opportunity to slither in, make introductions, and begin the networking process that would hopefully garner business, an ally, and definitely not make an enemy.

Damon stood among his usual rowdy circle of lawyers, politicos, a judge, and a chief executive officer of a restaurant empire. He sipped from his tall flute of champagne, one hand lodged in his pocket as he listened to bullshit story after bullshit story pour from the lips of his fiercest competitor, Alaric Saltzman.

The two of them never really got along, but went out of their way to show solidarity amid the lions which circled predatorily around Damon's spacious foyer. He laughed at the appropriate times, made a quip here and there which had the right amount of hostility, but other than that he kept his cool.

Checking the hour on his timepiece, Damon looked around the room wondering when Bonnie would grace his guests with her tardy ass presence. A good wife would have been by his side to greet their first guest of the evening, but he knew it sometimes took perfection longer than an hour to get ready. His patience, however, was waning as well as his ability to keep the sneer off his face while Saltzman dominated the conversation.

A hush lulled all conversations and Damon didn't even need to part his eyes from the double D breasts of the woman who suddenly found herself in the good ole boys circle standing beside him. His smile was slow and easy as they journeyed from her creamy flesh exposed in the low cut of her black dress, up the column of her neck, glancing briefly at her blatantly red mouth before settling on her hazel eyes.

He couldn't recall her name right off the bat, but he vaguely remembered it began with the letter R.

A sharp whistle broke Damon from his minor distraction and he saw Alaric scanning someone with interest.

"Damn, you might be a bastard, Damon, but I find myself envying you in one area and one area only."

He didn't really need see for himself the commotion his wife was causing for it to puff his chest out like a rooster. But in an unrushed manner, Damon searched through the milling crowd for his little wife.

The saliva in his throat suddenly turned very dry and became incredibly hard to swallow. Leave Bonnie to choose the one dress that clung to her skin like latex paint in the loudest color she could find.

She had taken her hair out of the updo she had styled it into earlier, and the strands now hung in tightly coiled waves that brushed the top of her bouncing tits. The hem hit her around mid-thigh; and if she bent over for any reason she would show the world a peak of the heaven only he had gotten to know.

Damon had been partly floored when he discovered, on their wedding night no less that Bonnie had been a virgin. He was her first and he was determined to be her last.

Bonnie stopped to say hello, accepted kisses on the cheek, admiration on her bandage dress that paid homage to her bust and curved to her voluptuous ass. True, this dress might be more appropriate for a night in South Beach Miami and not an intimate gathering at her home, but she was sending a message. Damon might be her husband, but he wasn't her owner or her father.

She took her sweet time making her way toward him knowing with each second she prolonged being at his side, earning lascivious stares and ogles from men only made his temperature spike another degree.

Bonnie accepted a glass of champagne from one of the waiters hired to keep the guests supplied with food and drink.

"Thank you," she murmured and saw the waiter's cheeks turn an interesting shade of pink.

That made her laugh darkly.

"You're causing quite a stir, love," ascertained a cultured voice that was much too close for comfort.

Bonnie craned her neck and looked over her shoulder. A pair of hooded aqua eyes gazed down at her with obvious interest making them glint mischievously.

Full, blood red lips parted and Bonnie had to resist the urge to lick her own. To stall, Bonnie took a small sip of champagne and on the sly noted his attributes.

The man had curly, sandy blonde hair cut close to his scalp with a tamed five o'clock shadow around his jaw. He was tall, about Damon's height but maybe an inch taller. Broad shoulders filled out his suit jacket. In the recessed lighting his pale skin appeared almost olive, but those lips were his best attribute in Bonnie's humble opinion. Two perfect pillows that probably whispered the mysteries of the world in an ear willing to listen or…

"I don't know what you mean," she switched the nature of her thoughts.

The man shifted until he stood in front of her. He outstretched his hand and Bonnie stared at his appendage before looking into his eyes. Blindly she placed her hand in his, his fingers cool to the touch.

"Don't be coy. You know exactly what I mean." Pause. "I'm Niklaus Mikaelson, but those who fear me call me Klaus," he smirked and looked her over from head to toe, his grin widening by the second.

Bonnie smiled a little and fidgeted a bit under his heavy perusal. "Bonnie Bennett but people just call me Bonnie."

Klaus tilted his head. "Bennett? I thought for sure that you're the Missus Damon Salvatore."

"She is."

Every muscle in Bonnie's body tensed and she immediately wiggled her hand free from Klaus' grip. She avoided looking at Damon pretty sure he was delivering his bug-eyed expression that could mean a number of things.

Klaus regarded Damon and the two shook hands. His gaze went back and forth between the pair trying his damndest to figure out what was going on. Why would Bonnie introduce herself as Bennett and not Salvatore? He knew some women wanted to retain their independence even while married and refused to take their husband's last name. Yet he couldn't be the sure that was the case, and why did he care in the first damn place? He was not the type to wedge himself in the middle of domestic disputes, but for some inexplicable reason Klaus couldn't tear his eyes away from Bonnie.

She was lovely to behold but didn't seem as if she were madly in love with her husband. If anything she looked irritated with him whereas Damon was practically glaring at them as if they committed some egregious offense.

"I see you've met my wife. Honey," Damon addressed Bonnie. She reluctantly brought her attention back to him. "This is my special friend from Sweden that I wanted you to meet."

It was on the tip of Bonnie's tongue to ask Klaus outright what was so special about him, but she swallowed that back down.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Mikaelson."

"Please call me Klaus," he insisted.

Bonnie smiled. "Sorry, but Damon hasn't told me much about you. What do you do exactly?"

"A little of this and that," Klaus answered vaguely. "I'm sure what I do for a living is the least of your interest at the moment."

"No, I'm sure whatever you do is fascinating. It's legal, right?" Bonnie teased.

Damon moved beside Bonnie, took her hand, and squeezed her fingers. She felt the pinch of pain and scowled while he delivered the fakest laugh anyone had ever heard.

"My little muffin has a crazy sense of humor."

"She does," Klaus agreed distractedly. He hadn't been offended by the question in the slightest. He knew for a fact that half the people currently in this house had businesses that weren't above board. "If it's all right with you, Damon I'd like Bonnie to show me around. It's not often I come to the States let alone the west coast, and you recently purchased this impressive piece of real estate, correct?"

"You would be right," Damon's nostrils flared.

Relinquishing Bonnie to Klaus was the last thing Damon wanted to do. Not with her in that dress, and not with the way he saw the Swede ogling her. However, he had an agenda and that was the most important thing he needed to be focused on at the moment.

Bringing Bonnie's hand up to his lips, Damon kissed her knuckles, leaned over and kissed her cheek, and delivered another one to the corner of her mouth.

"You look beautiful," he whispered in her ear.

Bonnie tried with all her might not to melt under his affection knowing it was partly for show and partly sincere.

"Thank you."

"Make sure he keeps his hands off you," Damon hissed next.

When he pulled back he saw heat waves radiating from her ears. He smiled broadly and let go of her hand.

Klaus stepped aside so that Bonnie could precede him. He cast one final look at Damon who held up his empty flute.

"I can give you a tour of the grounds," Bonnie said. "I don't know most of these people here."

The two of them disappeared into a semi-lit corridor lined with paintings which automatically drew Klaus' interest.

"How long have you been married to Damon?"

"A year and three months," Bonnie replied blandly.

"I'm guessing the honeymoon stage is over."

It never really began, Bonnie wanted to say. "You're not married?" she decided to take the heat off her back and throw it on him.

Klaus shook his head. "I was close once but she…died."

"I'm sorry," Bonnie voiced in lieu of having anything else to say.

"It's all right. Look," he laid a hand on Bonnie's shoulder to prevent her from walking farther. Bonnie's brow furrowed. "I know what it is your husband wants and using you is playing unfair and dirty. Let him know he can't have anymore shares of my family's company."

"I don't…"

"Yes, I'm sure you don't. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Missus Salvatore," Klaus walked away heading back to the party.

Bonnie released the breath she had been holding. She knew once the party cleared out and the house was empty of pretentious freeloaders, Damon would blame her for Klaus' refusal to agree to his proposal.

Digging the heel of her stiletto into the marble floor, Bonnie pressed her back against the wall. If she was going to get into trouble it might as well be something worth getting into trouble over.

It was time for this crowd to learn who Nicki Minaj was.

Chapter end.

A/N: This ending seems a bit anticlimactic to me. But this was merely an introduction. So Bonnie married Damon for reasons unknown. Any guesses as to what the reason for their union is? And yes, I know we're all used to a head strong, take charge Bonnie, and she doesn't exactly fit that mold right now, but getting there is a journey. Let me know what you think. I'd really like to know if this is something you guys are interested in continuing to read. Thanks for even taking the time to read this work in progress.