A/N: It's been a really long time. I do apologize for the extended wait and I thank you guys for being patient. I was going through some health and family challenges, and wasn't up to writing, but I'm trying to get back into the swing of things. If anyone is still interested since the show is coming to a close, that is. If you are, I hope you enjoy.

The perfect lemon drop Californian sun gave way to the pearlescent moon as head and taillights flicked to on. Bonnie drove on autopilot mouthing the words to the song "On to the Next One", one hand on the steering wheel the other cupping the automatic gear shift. She was headed to the heart of Los Angeles trying not to think about the fact in less than twenty-four hours she'll be face-to-face with her husband's brother.

Joy.

Bonnie whipped her car into the parking lot and rolled her luxury wheels to the valet booth.

Tonight's dinner would serve two functions. One, to vet information about her incoming brother-in-law, two, to put herself in a particular person's path.

Bonnie slid on embroidered leather and began with a cocktail or two, wetting her tongue and seguing her tension and anxiety with the relaxing instrumental music until they faded. She realized, belatedly, she had returned to the scene of a crime. A place where her deeds had been captured and shipped to implicate her as a possible adulteress. Deeds he found improper for a wife, offensive to him as a husband, but where she claimed a small sliver of her agency back. Bonnie was here, not necessarily to thump her nose at Damon, but to gather witnesses, have people who would vouch for her in the off chance her unwanted spy was sniffing on her trail once more.

LA Devils basketball players strolled by her booth, tipping their chins either up or down once recognizing her, while the statuesque or petite bombshells suctioned on their arms gripped their prize a bit tighter, deciding she was a threat. Bonnie would hold up her glass or wiggle her fingers in greeting. They had nothing to fear, basketball groupies, Bonnie thought darkly. She wouldn't trade her headache of a multi-millionaire husband for a limelight seeking athlete.

The Playground, the exclusive club located at the Devils arena was packed for a Wednesday.

Her phone began ringing. Unable not to smile, Bonnie stared at his name emblazoned on the screen before accepting his call.

"Hello?"

"Hey," Damon's intentionally smoky timbre birthed a surprising pang of longing through Bonnie. "What are you doing?"

Her head lolled to the side, long curly hair brushed gently on her bare shoulder, "Having a drink."

"Are you home?"

"No."

"Where are you?"

"Some place you probably won't approve of."

"Where, Bonnie?"

Her heart unerringly tried to climb up her throat. "I'm at The Playground."

"Why the fuck are you there?"

That temper of his, faster than the engine of a Bugatti Veyron, a part of him that Bonnie was accustomed to and more than tired of. She slumped against the tufted booth; wet her bottom lip inadvertently drawing stares from men who wouldn't mind feeling it against their skin.

"I turn my back for less than twenty-four hours and you go to the one place I specifically—"

"—I'm waiting on someone," Bonnie silenced his rant.

"Who?"

"A friend," she played with fire and saw her guest speaking with the hostess. She lifted a hand to get his attention and wave him over. He saw and began to approach.

"Bonnie," Damon barked hating he had to extract information one piece at a time as if removing splinters from a wound. "Who are you having drinks with?"

"Don't you trust me, husband? I could be working on a surprise for you," Bonnie held up a finger telling her guest to keep quiet. Damon would have no problem telling the pilot to turn the plane around and head back to Cali if he knew she was dining with Klaus Mikaelson.

"Surprise? If it doesn't involve you and nudity I'm not interested."

"I figured that much," Bonnie retorted dryly. "Listen my date is here. I have to go. Call me later," she hung up.

Her phone rang again damn near violently two seconds later.

Klaus eyed her from across the table, dimples deepening at her conundrum as his smile stretched from ear to ear. She rolled her green orbs and answered, listened to her husband froth at the mouth through a tiny microphone. She addressed him in Italian which certainly made Klaus' eyebrow shoot up in interest. Whatever she was saying to her husband (though he did speak Italian himself), the tempo of their verbal altercation switched from exacerbated annoyance to something private and scintillating, if he were to go by the mischievous smile curling the corners of Bonnie's lips.

Klaus could say he was taken aback because what he had come to know of the Salvatore's marriage, it was garnish on a dish of rotten food. A few months ago Bonnie yearned to defy her husband. Today, she knew how to handle and placate him while maintaining the upper hand.

She was a quick pupil, indeed.

He perused the menu, but glanced at Bonnie once she ended the call. "Everything well in purgatory or is it paradise now?"

Running her fingers through her hair, Bonnie shrugged, "How've you been?"

"Well. You?"

"Good."

"So I guess we should just have it out then. You invited me here to vet me for information? I'm hurt. I thought we shared a connection."

Bonnie slighted Klaus with an 'I didn't come to play' look. "Every moment of the day someone is vetting us whether we realize it or not. At least you were given a heads up."

"I guess I can't be too mad at you for that. I also take it you don't want your husband to know that once again our paths have crossed…deliberately?"

"My husband doesn't inform me of everything he does throughout the day. Consider this me showing him the same courtesy."

Those sharpened nails of hers matched her theoretical fangs. Klaus sat up straighter in the booth while lowering the menu to the table. He was rather enjoying seeing this side of Bonnie, beginners stage of rebellion.

"So let's hear it," he opened the proceedings.

Bonnie wiggled to the edge of her seat, "Stefan is on his way home from London. I've only met him once…on my wedding day. Do you know him well?"

Klaus rubbed his chin a little disappoint this was why Bonnie got in touch with him. Nevertheless, he answered her question. "Ah, Stefan the veritable saint compared to his demon seed brother. I knew him before I met Damon actually."

"Really?"

"Yes. He can appear at times to have a quiet temperament, but underneath that prim and properness can be a true asshole. Not on Damon's level of asshole finery, but since they are blood their personalities do mirror one another in some fashion. Don't tell me you're nervous to meet him."

"Well I'm not exactly jumping for joy."

"Honestly, Bonnie when it comes to the Salvatore's, Stefan is the nicest one you'll ever meet. Though I will say Stefan is loyal to a fault. Even when his brother is in the wrong, he'll still side with him. Much like my older brother does with me," Klaus smiled ruefully. "So I won't exactly count him as an ally."

"Noted," Bonnie muttered drily.

"Anything else you want to know?"

"That's good for now. Thanks."

Klaus nodded. "Had any more run-ins with Elise?"

Bonnie immediately went to respond but stopped. She couldn't tell Klaus about Elise's blackmail, her threats, her baseless lawsuit she slapped Damon with. "She's nothing I can't handle."

"If you need leverage to make sure Elise remembers her place, I may be able to help."

"Really?"

"Yes, but this would make you indebted to me, and I always collect on those debts," the expression on his face was not a playful one.

Bonnie sighed. If you made a bed you had to be prepared to lie in it.

Before she could make an oral agreement with Klaus, a waitress arrived at their table holding a chilled bottle of Veuve Clicquot and two flutes.

"I didn't order that," Bonnie said.

"Compliments of Number Zero," the waitress placed the glasses on the table, popped the cork of the expensive champagne.

Klaus, brow raised first looked at Bonnie's pursed lips before searching the lounge for the culprit. The basketball stud he remembered warning off of Bonnie the last time they'd come here to unwind after a lazy afternoon of playing golf. Aqua irises narrowed as they found their man walking confidentiality to the table in a sleek gunmetal gray suit, busty redhead on his arm.

Zero supped brandy from the crystal glass in his right hand, gaze tacked on Bonnie like lugs on a tire. He barely acknowledged Klaus too committed to undressing Bonnie skimpy layer by skimpy layer. He admired the care and attention she dedicated to her upkeep to appear sexy without bordering on the matronly line.

"Evening," he finally said in a voice that was disarming enough to make the most suspect person relax minutely.

It did nothing for Bonnie but make her ample chest rise in vexation. What did he want? "Thanks for the offer," she slid her glass of champagne to the edge of the table, the bottle next, "but we don't need it."

Zero unlatched his scrutiny of Bonnie's chest to his offering. "It's interesting to see you here and with him again," he graced Klaus with a once over and promptly redirected to Bonnie. "Where is Mr. Salvatore this time?"

"Doing what he does best," Klaus interjected, "trust his woman to have his back no matter where he is. We're having a private dinner. You can see yourself to another area of this bar," he sneered.

Grinning like only the devil could, Zero dismissed Klaus with a cut of his eye, and looked at Bonnie once more who was in the process of sliding out of the booth.

"Can I talk to you for a second?"

Klaus was surprised and so was Zero which he covered it up by killing the contents of his drink, and passing the empty glass to the woman on his arm he'd all but forgotten was there.

"Bonnie?" Klaus looked at her like she'd lost her mind.

She stared at him patiently and then glared at Zero. She headed toward the alcove leading to the bathrooms knowing he'd follow her.

And follow her he did. Walking a pace and a half behind Bonnie, ogling the up down motion of her voluptuous ass and the sway of her hips.

Bonnie braced her back along the red and black wall, folded her arms across her bust. She got right down to it, "Let's not play any games. Do you think I'm going to sleep with you because you bought a bottle of champagne?"

Zero was not unattractive, but his eyes were too squinty for Bonnie's taste, his Gumby inspired haircut did him no favors, and yes he had the body of a championship winning athlete, to Bonnie it was nothing she hadn't seen before. Viscerally he didn't make her panties wet or her nipples hard. He could lick his lips as he stood across from her as many times as he liked, never would it ever make her want it between her legs. The little hair he did have was too blonde, his eyes weren't the right shade of blue, his coloring was too tanned.

In short, he wasn't Damon and he'd never be on his level.

Stuffing a hand in his pocket, Zero leaned his back on the wall, spreading his long legs shoulder length apart. "You're not a bobbleheaded teenager or a bright-eyed coed looking for a payday by scoring with a professional ball player. Nah, you're too sophisticated for that."

"So what do you want? Why do you keep making gestures when my husband specifically told you to stay the hell away from me?"

Zero smiled, didn't say anything.

Bonnie felt her pulse speeding. "Let me make myself plain. I don't want anything from you. If you're hoping to use to me get to my husband you can forget it."

"Husband? Where's your ring?"

Bonnie had to resist hiding her hands behind her back. She'd have to wear her ring for the duration of Stefan's visit, she made a mental note.

"Doesn't matter where it is because I'm still married. It's kind of pathetic you're chasing after a woman who's not only taken but doesn't want your ass."

Zero pushed away from the wall and smirked at the enlargement of Bonnie's eyes, and how she pressed deeper into the wall holding her up. "Who said I'm chasing you? Who said I want anything from you that I can't get from a hundred other women in this place right now?"

"You hate my husband."

"Yes, I do."

"Why?"

"Do you care?"

"Yes."

Zero's smirk turned dark. "Good. It'll hurt more when he finally gets his."

Bonnie blinked, stunned. "What do you mean by that?"

Zero did an about face and walked back down the hall.

"Hey!" she yelled and took off after him. She was fast but Zero was faster. By the time she made it to the main part of the club, he was gone.

Reluctantly returning to her table, Bonnie ignored Klaus' concern. Something was going to have to be done about that fool Zero.

Blushing bride she was not. Black widow, yet to be determined, Stefan Salvatore could only make provocative inferences about his sister-in-law. The slanderous thought she might be a high priced intelligencer for his family's industry rival had traipsed through his mind more than once. She was beautiful and quiet, but there was something undercutting about his brother's wife that made it hard for Stefan to trust her.

Being part of this family meant you hoarded your share of secrets and Bonnie Bennett had a secret. Lawyers, law enforcement, and parents weren't the only ones lied to on a daily basis. Being a human polygraph test had become his second profession as his patients lied to him daily. Lied about following their medication regime to the letter, lied about how much pain they were in, lied about feeling fine when their numbers suggested otherwise. Yes, he was versed when someone was being wholly dishonest to take the spotlight off of them.

If a serpent could get the only man and woman in paradise to fall, what more would it take a pretty face to convince a lonely, wealthy man to marry her?

Damon might be one of a kind and textbook in certain cases, he would deny having a bleeding heart. Nevertheless, his heart did bleed and he was probably more of a romantic than he saw himself as; though he'd let his megalomaniac side take over. Brothers looked after and protected one another's interest, and Stefan saw no reason to end that practice.

He whistled lowly at the modern opulence of his sibling's home, and though he lived as no pauper on one of the best streets in London, there was no comparison. Stefan surrendered his bags to the concierge Armand who then directed him to the backyard where his sister-in-law was waiting for him.

Bonnie sensed him, hands tugged nervously on the sleeve of her off-the-shoulder knit sweater before brushing the frayed hem of her tiny white shorts that were swallowed by the immensity of her top. Her feet were bare, long hair was loosely curled, and spilled over her left breast in a waterfall of black and chocolate tresses. She wore minimal makeup. Bonnie made herself as unappealing and unassuming as possible.

With Damon unavailable to serve as a buffer, Bonnie faced off with Stefan sans armor or a weapon. She committed subterfuge with the musicality of a tap dancer when facing a crowd of strangers. Hiding behind coy smiles and vague replies would not work on her brother-in-law. He would want and expect answers to questions that Bonnie could not invoke her Fifth Amendment rights on.

Her heart was in her throat, palms were clammy. Bonnie inhaled breath after breath willing her occasional shyness not to rear its debilitating head.

Stefan, in mid-step, faltered at seeing her poised at the corner of the infinity pool, her silhouette outlined in hues of gold and cobalt. She stared brazenly, guardedly, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling in an even cadence making her emotions indeterminable.

The picture she painted…He groaned and hadn't realized.

Stefan could make his assumptions about his brother's wife, but there was little mistaking the fact she was, without a doubt, a breathtakingly gorgeous woman. Painfully beautiful. Stefan had to admire Damon's willpower to leave her alone for a second.

Unable to steer his thoughts, Stefan imagined that this was his home and the lovely specimen of femininity waiting for him was his wife. Those were his lips he was going to kiss and his ass he was going to palm. He shook the enviable thought away before it could grow and spread like roots. Or, more embarrassingly, lead to an erection. He was surprised by the backlog of saliva in his mouth when he swallowed, and in three strides ate up the distance between him and Bonnie.

"Hey," Stefan said.

"Hey," Bonnie repeated.

The two embraced awkwardly, ended the hug awkwardly. Bonnie let out a nervous giggle.

"How was your flight?"

Stefan bobbed his head, shrugged, "Long and uneventful. You look…beautiful," the compliment slipped out before he could stop it.

"Thank you. You look good, too," Bonnie appraised him. His features were so different from Damon's it was hard to believe they were blood related. Stefan in his own right was striking, the quintessence of made-for-TV handsomeness that was commonplace in La La Land. His smile didn't make her feel at ease but put on display.

"After three connecting flights, sixteen hours of flying I feel and probably smell like horseshit."

Bonnie really laughed and shook her head. "You don't smell…that bad."

"Oh, thanks," Stefan chortled.

"If you want to refresh up first, help yourself."

"Nah, I'm all right. If I shower, I'll crash."

"Are you hungry?" Bonnie cleared her dry throat. "Do you want to eat?"

"Uh…sure. I'm always up for a good meal," Stefan tacked on an award-winning smile.

Food was always a lovely distraction and an ice breaker. Bonnie had the chef prepare a Caribbean feast of crustaceans, lentils, cocoa bread, and plantains. They settled down at one of the settees near the pool and dressed their plates. They glanced at one another when they figured the other wasn't looking, but their gazes always caught, held for a breath, before jotting away.

"What's new with you? Working?" Stefan asked after they forked a few bites of food into their mouths.

Bonnie, chewed and swallowed, "I'm on the board at The Christie Foundation. And I've been offered a career opportunity at a fortune-500 company just recently."

Stefan seemed impressed as he took a sip of beer. "Awesome. Congratulations! What's the name of the company?"

"It's going through a bit of a revamp at the moment but once it's been finalized, you'll be the first to know." Bonnie danced around answering because she and Damon had not discussed when they'd announce she would be working at Salvatore Incorporated. Stefan didn't trust her and Bonnie could guess how he'd take the news of her working for his family's business. Of being in control of a branch of it.

Eye squinting, Stefan continued with his line of questioning. "So…how has married life been? We didn't get to talk all that much at the wedding. It's been how long now?"

"Almost two years," Bonnie answered. "Married life is…it has its ups and downs, you know."

"I imagine it would. You're married to my brother," Stefan quipped. Bonnie snickered uneasily. "I honestly never saw Damon getting married. I think he may have liked the idea of marriage, but didn't see it as something for him."

Bonnie found that odd. Had Stefan not known Damon had been engaged at one point before meeting her? Should she put Damon's business out on the street? Why the hell not.

"He was engaged before. To Tatia."

"Oh right, duh," Stefan mimicked smacking his forehead without actually making contact with said forehead. "Yeah, she and Damon…they were crazy about each other. From what I understood they tried to make it work…just couldn't."

"Did you like her?" Bonnie had to know if Stefan were still Team Tatia. She was well aware you could be competing with someone even when they were long gone from the picture.

Stefan regarded her after a thoughtful pause, "Tatia was a complicated person. At times she could be the life of the party, or so negative you wanted to strangle her. She was sweet though, but delicate. She loved Damon a lot, but I think she wanted to prove herself to her family more. From what I remember it was a bit hard to really get to know her."

"So in other words…"

Stefan laughed, "I liked her, Bonnie. Are you curious if I like you?"

"We're technically only meeting for a second time. It's too soon to tell."

"That's very astute. My brother married you for a reason or several and whatever they may be, they're his. What I want to know…what were your reasons for marrying him?" Bonnie stared at Stefan and blinked. "If I may be so bold to ask. What made you fall in love with him?"

Deafening silence ensued.

"You do love my brother, right?" Stefan arched a dark brow.

Weeks ago Bonnie would have hesitated. Her mind flashed back to yesterday at The Playground, and Zero's threat that Damon was going to get his. A foreign sensation had risen up in Bonnie it took her until she was home for her to realize what it was: protectiveness. It was her first time wanting to protect Damon. And her wanting to protect someone went hand-in-hand with her love.

Bonnie looked Stefan straight in his eye, "Would I have married him if I didn't?" she twisted off a crab leg. "Damon and I…we're very different and in a lot of areas we're the same. We can be stubborn, prideful, secretive, but I've never met anyone like him. The way he makes me feel…no one has ever made me feel…so much," Bonnie ended quietly. "He's done a lot for me and…my family that he didn't have to do, but he wanted to because…that's who he is. A man who lives by the desires of his heart. I can't help but admire that."

Stefan could take what Bonnie said with a grain of salt or as the gospel truth. She did care for his brother, but Stefan's ambivalence on giving his endorsement that it was love remained.

One thing was clear, Bonnie hadn't married Damon strictly for his money. She hadn't married him strictly for his heart, either.

"What about you, Stefan?" Bonnie turned the tide on him. "Anyone special in your life?"

He shook his head and licked lemon juice off his thumb. "My work is my girlfriend. I date when my schedule allows, but I just don't have the time."

"Understandable. Being a neurosurgeon what's that like?"

"Boring."

Bonnie snorted and bit down on the tines of her fork.

Stefan wiped his fingers clean on a napkin. "I'm kidding. It's a scary thing. One wrong move and I can accidentally wipe my patient's memory, turn them into a complete invalid. Everything is driven by memory. I have to be extremely focused not to accidentally take that away."

"You've lost patients?"

"Yeah," Stefan voice became graveled. "That's the part of the job that sucks."

"Understandable."

Stefan switched the subject. He had lost a patient last week. A nine-year-old boy. "Got any plans tonight?"

Bonnie shook her head. "No."

"Know how to play cards?"

"Spades and poker."

Finally that earned her first genuine smile from Stefan. She passed at least one hurdle.

Rising to his feet, Stefan stretched out a hand to Bonnie. "Poker it is. And everything's wild."

"Everything?" she laid her fingers across his open palm.

His eyes darkened and it reminded Bonnie of Damon. "Everything."

He tapped his blunt fingernails against the gleaming black lacquer surface of the bar, a surface so shiny he could see his reflection perfectly. Behind him were the blaring lights of Times Square. Thick, soundproof glass censored the cacophony of one of the most populated places on earth that was several floors down, and many blocks wide. Where he was physically his thoughts weren't. Mentally, geographically, he was home and in four days he would be. In the interim, he was on the phone with Stefan getting debriefed.

"So what say you? Still think she's after my money."

Stefan almost choked on the swig of beer he just poured down his throat. "No," he coughed. "But I can't say she loves your ass either."

The shot glass was halfway to Damon's mouth before he paused and glowered. He knew the truth of the matter. That some part of Bonnie loved him. Damon wouldn't admit to himself at being disappointed that part hadn't grown to the point others could distinguish her love for him. Then again, not much time had passed since that revelation to now.

"She's beautiful," Stefan continued, unaware of Damon's displeasure at his assessment. "Has an amazing ass."

"Stefan."

"And she's superb at bullshitting her way out of answering a direct question that makes her uncomfortable. Why should the topic of being in love with her husband make her uncomfortable? Are you beating her?"

Damon's hand tightened on the glass hard enough for it to break. "No," he growled menacingly, "but I might end up beating you when I get back."

Stefan chuckled. Alcohol gave him a debilitating case of loose lips and no filter. "Of course I know you don't hit women. She's…skittish like she's hiding something. What are you two hiding, Damon?"

"You keep talking and it'll be your dead body."

Howling with laughter, Stefan then diverted on a tangent on his travels and how, if he had been given more notice about Damon flying to New York he would have met with him there instead of flying clear across the country.

"Yeah, I know the timing on that sucked," Damon agreed. "But duty calls."

"How is the business?"

"Recovering from a slow third quarter. Don't worry. You'll get a return on your investments."

"You know it's not the money I care about."

"Spoken like a sonofabitch born into a family with money."

"Fuck you, turd. Oh, I forgot to ask her this, but um does Bonnie have any sisters or cousins?"

Shaking his head, stifling a laugh, Damon said, "You do realize they would be family by marriage, right?"

"Technically they'd be off limits to you, not me. So it's all good."

"Asshole."

"Well?"

"She does have a cousin. She dances for the LA Devils. But she's taken."

"Why the hell bring her up if she's seeing someone? I swear."

"Stop clutching your pearls. She has a boyfriend, last I heard anyways. Hey, in my book, if a woman isn't married, she's available."

Stefan snorted.

Damon nursed his bourbon as a fresh one was plopped down on a napkin in front of him. His ice-blue spheres found those of the bartender who smirked and pointed toward the opposite end of the bar.

"Compliments of the lady."

Directing his tired gaze that way, a brunette held up her glass of vodka in toast, eyeing him over the rim. Damon tipped his head in thanks and resumed listening to his younger brother. The next time he looked up the woman at the end of the bar was seated next to him, angled her body in such a way to give him the perfect view of her crossed legs, her supple thigh.

Damon slammed his left hand on the bar top startling the woman. She saw his ring, documented the glint in his eyes that could only be translated into one succinct message: I'm married.

She flashed hers. So am I.

Taking the phone away from his ear, Damon invaded the woman's private space, reveled in the rising color to her cheeks, the harried rise and fall of her chest.

"I can figure out what you came here for so let me gleefully pop your bubble."—the woman frowned—"I'm married to a beautiful black woman and the saying is true. Now run along. Find another hedge-fund cocksucker to bone."

The woman cursed, hopped down the stool, and flipped up her middle finger.

Damon resumed his conversation, "Yeah, what were you saying?"

"Still being propositioned," Stefan scoffed. "I see something's never go out of style."

"It's even worse when you're married."

"That's what married folk keep telling me."

"Look, I need to speak with the missus. I'll talk to you later, brother."

"Fine. Check in with your PO. Later."

Damon hung up but he didn't call his wife. He lied about that, needing an excuse to get off the phone with Stefan. The person who sat down next to him this time, Damon didn't rebuke. Words he had been waiting for the last week and a half to hear finally infiltrated his ears, in which he bobbed his head—pleased.

Finally an old debt had been paid.

Three thousand miles away, a condo in an exclusive Los Angeles suburb exploded in fire and gas. By morning, news would carry across local and national networks and social media that real estate mogul, William Lockwood was dead. William Lockwood being an old family friend of the Salvatore's, if by friend one really meant business rival, who had also screwed then CEO Giuseppe Salvatore out of a lucrative multi-million dollar deal—yes he was a frenemy. But of course the hatchet had been buried between the two Wharton Business school alums.

Except…

Elise carefully folded the newspaper, dug her spoon into her grapefruit taking a bite of the blush colored fruit. She chewed daintily but swallowing was difficult. The death of William Lockwood she knew was a warning. A message. William had introduced her and Giuseppe. William had also been an instrumental silent partner in her chain of spas in Arizona. Damon knew.

Damon knew everything.

"Do you know the kind of man you married, Bonnie? He's not what he seems. His charm is poison, his words are bullets, but his actions, those are what kills you. I know he was behind it. And once I have proof, goodbye freedom and hello twenty-five to life. We can work together, Bonnie. I know you don't love him. What do you stand to gain? Pain and suffering because that's all Damon knows to inflict on people. You think you're special, that you're safe?" she laughed mirthlessly, "Don't be stupid. Call. Me. Back. If you're smart."

Bonnie waffled on saving or deleting the message. Elise calling was an attempt to frighten her. The woman believed Bonnie saw Damon as some kind of dark prince, a misunderstood trust fund baby who just needed love. But Elise failed to realize that Damon had shown his colors to her long ago.

A chill did settle on Bonnie's shoulders. The touch of his hands inspired the tiny hairs all over her body to stand straighter, higher.

Damon was home. Two days earlier than expected.

He pulled her cell phone from her hands and stuffed it in his pocket. Kissed the corner of her jaw. "I'm taking you away this weekend."

"Where?"

"The mountains. You, me, the slopes, and commando in the hot tub."

Bonnie turned in his arms. He had heard every word of that message.

He didn't particularly like the look on her face. "Afraid of me again?"

Bonnie hitched her chin higher though her heart was pounding. "No."

"Good," Damon pecked her lips. "Pack light."

A/N: There wasn't much Bamon but I hope to rectify that in the next chapter. Thank you so-so much for reading. Any feedback you want to leave is much appreciated.