New York || Damon Salvatore [1]

Chapter Twenty

1977 — Manhattan, New York

   It had been a Christmas present from Great Aunt Madeline—a seven floor townhouse located on the north side of 64th Street. A priceless king size limestone mansion with approximately 14,000 square feet, on seven levels, created by C.P.H. Gilbert, an old lover of Great Aunt Madeline. It was supposed to be a townhouse for the wealthiest and influential, industrialist and bankers of the Gilded Age, not two engaged young adults that worked in shit jobs. But, according to Great Aunt Madeline and her fortune, it was nothing except a present for her favourite people. 

   Their old apartment had been shut down by the police for an indefinite amount of time. Their belongings were all ruined by the blood, which meant that they had to get everything new. Once again, Great Aunt Madeline came to the rescue. The town house came fully furnished, and she even gave them extra money for other necessary things. For a moment, Damon joked that they didn't need to even work if Great Aunt Madeline was going to continue to be a saint to them. That conversation ended with Freya giving him a look and a smack in the back of the head. 

   To celebrate their new home, Great Aunt Madeline decided that it would be best to have a welcoming party. That meant inviting everyone they knew to their new home, family included. So, that morning, Freya ran a hand through her hair as she paced back and forth all over the house. 

   "Would you calm down?" Damon called out, unsure where she could be. "You're burning tracks on these beautiful herringbone floors!"

   "My whole family is coming!" she yelled back, frustration clear in her voice. "My whole family!"

   "Yeah, we got over that the day after Great Aunt Madeline told us," he called out. He decided to follow her footsteps, finding her pacing in front of the oversized windows on the third floor of the house. He had to stop to drink her in, the light of the sun illuminating right on her and making her appear like an angle. For a moment, his breath got caught in his throat.

   "No, Damon, my family wants to come over," Freya said, stopping and looking at him with an anxious face. "Why didn't we just say no?"

   "We did," he reminded her. "Remember? We said no, Great Aunt Madeline began to act as if she were having a heart attack, she said she wanted us to have it as her death wish, and when we said no she was immediately fine."

   "We should have just pushed on to say no," she muttered, beginning to pace again. "This is not a house, this is a mansion! How the hell are we supposed to clean all of this? How are we supposed to get to the bedroom when we're tired? Why the hell would they make a seven story house? Who needs these many floors?!" She let out a big groan and threw her hands in the air. "Seriously, who the hell needs seven floors to live in?"

   Damon let out a short laugh and nodded, almost understanding her. When he was human, his home consisted of fifteen rooms and just two floors, bigger than the house he was given by Great Aunt Madeline. Back then, there were people who cleaned them, the slaves his father so blatantly flaunted with a big grin and power. It was one of the many reasons why Damon Salvatore didn't quite like his father.

   "Calm down," he softly said. "Freya, you need to take a deep breath and calm down." He walked up to her and grabbed her face between his hands gently, making her look up at him. "It's going to be fine. I already ordered catering because you and I cannot cook for this many people, and the house is spotless, and everything is set. All you need to do is get ready, nothing more."

   Freya pushed away from him and nodded. "Get ready... Right." She slowly walked towards the stairs, mumbling to herself about how it was going to a disaster.