allure (d.salvatore)

2| the one where Emma's occupation comes out

Emma gasped for breath as the sensation of something wet at her solar plexus.

Tears burned her eyes as the pain flared through her, the blood running down her neck.

She'd been shot.

She was on her back, her head hanging limply off of whatever elevated surface she was on. She whimpered and pressed down on her wound, but all she could think about was the overwhelming feeling of fear, suffocating her, enveloping her in agony and sadness and melancholy and self hatred for allowing herself to get shot, for leaving Peter and May so quickly...

And just as everything went dark....

She woke up with a sharp gasp. Her eyelids closed and opened mechanically, her pupils adjusting to the early days of light streaming in through the thin weave of her curtains. She squinted unhappily and rolled out of bed, sliding her phone off of the bed stand.

5:00 am. She sighed. At least it wasn't midnight.

~

The rest of the day went fairly well.

She had breakfast with Caroline and dropped her off at school, managing to get threatened twenty times in the span of an hour and a half, which, honestly, wasn't that bad for her rep.

Apparently, Emma would be bestowed with physical (please, Caroline winces when Emma stubs her toe on a table) and emotional and social torture, if she didn't attend some stupid comet thing.

When you've been on the Moon and seen a god use a magical hammer to summon the biggest, most concentrated lightning storm ever, a comet is a bit of a let down.

She walked into the Mystic Grill, throwing a look over her shoulder. Caroline was very, very excited. That equals to Emma being exhausted and let's face it, she was already exhausted from having to deal with the multiple news outlets that wanted to talk about her appointment in the Chairwoman position in Stark Industries.

She fiddled with her bag and coat, walking up to the bar. She hissed as she bumped into one of the chairs, finally looking up.

'Hey, Emma!' The brunette turned with a frown as she heard someone who passed very quickly say to her.

'Oh, hey, Vick- nope, she's gone.' Her easy smile bled away instantly, her frown taking back it's place. She heard a chortle and saw Damon Salvatore sitting there with his (apparently) ever present (but still hot) smirk.

'You're just all over the place aren't you?' Emma rolled her eyes, her smile settling back on her pink lips. 'Yep, runn-working at a billion dollar corporation does that to you.' She sat down, inwardly sighing at her slip of the tongue.

'Bad day at the probably extremely well paying job?' Damon raised an eyebrow in amusement. Admittedly, her salary did have 4 zeroes per month.

'Hey, I do a truck load of work! And it doesn't help that everyone's a moron.' Damon chuckled at her frustration. 'Or maybe you're being too much of a perfectionist.' He dipped the glass of bourbon in her direction.

He leaned back, arm slung over the back of his chair. She ignored the fact that the tight fabric that clung to his every angle that he called a shirt was craving her attention and instead chose to focus on defending herself.

'I'm the boss, I'm allowed to have unreasonable expectations my employees have to almost die to reach.' She joked. Damon raised an eyebrow.

'So, you do run Stark Industries.' It wasn't a question, but a statement. A very true one that she had revealed in a rookie mistake.

She floundered for a substantiation that wasn't completely and utterly stupid (why did you even not tell him?!) (Because I didn't think I'd ever see him again? Stupid small town with only one big restaurant!)

Damon seemed to get increasingly amused with her actions, a deep rooted urge to slug him in the arm really hard and wipe that annoying (read: attractive) smirk off him.

'I have my really stupid reasons.' Damon hummed, curiosity shining in his crystal blue eyes. (His very, very beautiful crystal blue eyes)

'Will I ever hear them?' Emma chuckled dramatically. 'If I told you, I would kill you to hide my spastic nerd side away from this cruel, cruel world.' She swept her arm across the room, earning a few looks.

She waved sheepishly back, glaring at Damon's chortle.

'You're adorable.' He smirked into his drink. She rolled her eyes, her phone blinking with a text.

'I gotta say, I do love me a girl on top.' She grinned, her eyes subtly drifting to her lap shyly.

She groaned as she read the text. 'Oh, you cannot be serious.' He raised an eyebrow.

'What's up?' She waved it off, gathering her coat and scarf. 'Oh, Tony just got back from The Stark Exhibition planning committee meet and Justin Hammer was there.' She sneered.

'Who?' She rolled her eyes at the mere mention of him, Damon smirking. 'Oh, this utter douche bag who gets on everyone's nerves, 'specially Tony's.' His head tilted, studying her annoyed scrunched up face (that kind made her look like a bunny) and the lilt in her accent that could be identified as a New Yorker's.

'Aw, ditch him. Stay here, with me.' He patted the counter. He leaned in, his voice husky and low. 'I promise I won't bite. Unless that's what you like.' She smiled. 'Unfortunately, I owe Tony a rant, so gotta go.' She shrugged.

'But..' She slid off of her stool. 'If the offer's still open, the platonic drink, then I'd like to get one with you.' He pouted. He was hoping he'd get to sleep with her, but, eh, her little blondy sister would have to do.

'Fine. But you better show up.' He admitted dramatically, pointing accusingly at her. She chuckled and waved, walking away with her hips swaying. He wiggled his fingers at her, sighing as she turned.

Oh, the things he would do to that woman. The fact that she was so oblivious and civilized to the reaction she elicited from men made him want her more, made him want to show her things that would put the sins of Eve to shame.

His eyes followed Vicky running into a bathroom as soon as the annoying customer who held her up left.

He smirked devilishly and slammed a twenty on the bar.