Romans & histoires Stefan Salvatore Damon Salvatore

"It's been five years, but it doesn't feel right still." "Tell me about it." I chuckle. We take a second to reminisce about our trauma. I am shocked that he opened up so quickly. "Anything else?" "What are their names..?" "Well who is Mr.Nicholas Salvatore to you." "And his son.?" "Liam Salvatore ." I nod. The name Liam rings in my head. It's sexy, but also adds fright. "Honestly, he already scares me more than you do." "Everyone is scared of him, even the guys I bring over."

Damon stopped what he was doing and gave Salvatore a I didn't ask for the details look. Salvatore stopped talking. He never asked for the details, he doesn't need them but Salvatore never fails to deliver them. Damon continued what he was doing again, his face was devoid of emotions. "He asked if he can see Daisy" Salvatore spoke again. Damon's bulky shoulders stiffened and he paused writing. His head raised to stare at Salvatore without saying a word. "I told him you didn't order that. I didn't let him" He provided quickly.

"When you ask me that, I usually don't know what to say." "What's your full name?" "Damon Salvatore," He said with a smile. "Italian, huh," I nodded at him with a smile. I knew. He had the features. The trim figure, olive skin, dark hair, characteristic razor sharp jawline, aquiline nose and lastly, the natural charm and charisma. "I can see why," No wonder he had this pull. He exuded so much confidence. He didn't even have to act it. It was a part of him.

Samantha turns back and finds her stepmother and stepsister. "They must be the guys—who hate you?" Damon mumbled while making Samantha's eyes widen. She looks at him in response—she never shared anything with Damon about her relationship with her stepmother and stepsister, so she is curious—how will he know that they hate her? "Who told you that they both hate me?" Samantha mumbled and asked, grabbing Damon's attention. "Mom, I'm Aaron Salvatore's son, and you're a little pumpkin." "I'm aware of everything."

He had a proud Roman nose, a mess of curly hair that hung just above his eyes, high cheekbones, and soft lips that women in the bar would probably die to kiss. Seriously, this is the man I get worried about? “Montreal.” Salvatore smiles. The heavy and thick Italian accent rolls his tongue. He quickly stands up from the couch he sat on and moves forward with one arm extended, ready for a handshake. “I’m glad we wouldn't be stood up tonight. I prepared a feast.” Damon joked, clapping his palm on his shoulder. I stay back a little, letting the two indulge in their reunion even though I know they’ve just seen each other at the engagement.

Salvatore stood to greet us. “Nathan, what a sight for sore eyes,” he expressed and held out his hand to shake mine. “Salvatore, great to see you again,” I said, shaking his hand. “Well, well. Who do we have here?” Salvatore smiled, looking over at Amelie. “Hi, Mr. Aventini,” Amelie spoke. “My name is Amelie. I’m Dr. Michaels's student assistant.” “Ciao, Bella,” Salvatore said as he took Amelie’s hand and kissed it. I wasn’t happy with Salvatore’s lips on her, but I wasn’t going to piss off the head of one of the most powerful mafias in New York City.

Some dropped their thumbs at us while the rest uttered profanity for being a team of losers. His name is Damon Salvador. Apart from that he is the son of the King of the vampires, Damon is the most arrogant, ruthless, and self-centered vampire I have ever known. Degrading, humiliating, and ruining someone's life is his best fortë since he could not kill someone's life as well. Our team hates him to the deepest part of our souls. Those vampires who are not well aware of his attitude being the worst will basically end up giving up their own lives. But the four of us are already accustomed to his treat and tricks. His team was also assigned to New York.

Salvatore’s voice called sharply: “Damien. To my study. Now.” Damien stiffened. Something in the old man’s voice… made fear coil inside him. He entered the study. And stopped cold. Across the desk were files, photos, documents — and at the very center, a birth certificate. His eyes landed on the name written beside “Mother.” Elena Salvatore. Damien’s heart stopped. “What… what is this?” he asked, his voice barely audible. Old Mr. Salvatore looked at him without mercy.

_Dominic “What is it, spill it out,” I said impatiently. “Boss, we have company,” Vini said and we both got up from our respective chairs. The man I was with started to walk towards the back window and looked out. “I never got your name,” I said as soon as he turned and looked around. “Nikolai, but you can call me Nic,” he said, looking between me and Vini. Nikolai. He was Russian, but even as I searched in the hazy compartments of my brain, there was no Nikolai.

“I swear, Damien, that day will be the end of your life. I’ll make sure it’s the worst death you’ve ever known.” His voice dropped to a venomous whisper, each word a dagger. “Don’t even think about running,” he continued, eyes boring into mine like they could reach into my soul and rip it out. “You, of all people, should know I, Salvatore, show no mercy. Even if you hide in the deepest hole, I will fish you out. I will end your entire line.” The threat was both primal and precise—a promise that echoed through my bones. “Don’t try to play me, don’t mess with me, Damien. I repeat—don’t dare me.”