Stefan Salvatore Elena Gilbert Novels & Stories

I say knowing damn well I couldn't care less about if Cas forgives me or not. Casper De Santo, Elenas older brother. We've been friends for the last 10 years and I've actually grown quite fond of him. The term fond meaning I don't have the urge to kill him every time he opens his mouth. Which is rare considering it's been that way for me for the last 15 years.

Salvatore. Both Bruno and I had our doubts and suspicions about each other. Bruno believed that I may have acted on my jealousy of Elena and Deangelo's relationship and hired someone to harm Deangelo impulsively. On the other hand, I entertained similar suspicions about Bruno. The tension between us had become unbearable, and I could no longer endure the uncertainty. It was time to confront Bruno and seek answers. With a mix of apprehension and determination, I made my way to Bruno's residence. The atmosphere was charged with an underlying tension as I approached his grand estate.

Gilbert had a sour expression on his face. "Oh, he's with the Shears. He's not back yet," Iris answered briefly. "What? How dare he?!" Gilbert was furious when he heard that. "Dad, what's wrong with you?" Iris was very confused, finally seeing that something was wrong with Gilbert. "What do you think? Iris, is there something wrong with your head? Leon's your boyfriend. Not only did he save Cynthia from marriage so brazenly today, he's even with the Shears right now. He clearly wants to rekindle things with Cynthia! Are you just not going to care about that?!" Gilbert said in frustration.

“Partying at the bar. He's had one too many drinks so far. Blurted without his own mouth that he has a Leone princess in his room for the night.” My hands tightened on the phone. Anymore and it would break. That motherfucker! “Wait until he returns to the room, Sandro. You know what to do.” I hung up. Debating whether to stay or go deal with this Brian Delamonte. I downed my drink and set the glass on the table. I'll wait until Gabriella wakes up. “Mr Vitale?” My head snapped to Stephanie in the hallway. She stepped into the living room, her shoulders slumped with a sigh.

Unfastening his wristwatch, he handed it over to a bodyguard and faced the screen with a big frown etched on his face. “Our men searched everywhere?” He asked, his eyes not leaving the screen. “Yes.” Salvatore sighed, rubbing the base of his neck frustratedly. “Everywhere in the goddamn hotel.” Elena swallowed, her butt seated on the chair’s edge, with her back straight as a pencil. Deep down, she was scared of their backlash as well. After all, she had left Eva for only a few minutes and those minutes spent away from her were all it had taken the girl to slip away!

I didn’t quite appreciate how important the guy was—’ ‘Where is he?’ Elena interrupted. ‘I’m taking you straight there.’ Her mobile rang and she snatched it up. It was Francis. She was grateful for his calm but disturbed to hear that Andrea had still not regained consciousness. Having warned her that the press were gathering at the front of the hospital, Francis arranged to meet her in a less public location. ‘I’ve told everyone that you’re Mr Santino’s partner,’ Francis confessed, within a minute of their harried meeting.

When he saw me, he came up to me with a smile and wanted to pull me into his arms and kiss me like he always used to. "Darling… Won't you give me some? I'm hungry…" I refused to move. Instead, I used up every ounce of strength in my body and shoved him off. "Fuck off," I said in a cold, chilly voice. Vincenzo staggered backward and nearly fell. He was completely caught off guard as he stared at me. Then, his eyes lit up in fury. "You fucking ingrate, Eliana Torre! I nearly got killed last night while saving your life! And this is how you repay me?"

I froze. Oh no. Not again. I turned around so fast I nearly walked into the wall. Strong hands caught my shoulders. “Elena.” “I hate garlic.” Alaric blinked. “What?” “I hate garlic.” His forehead furrowed. “You liked garlic yesterday.” “I know.” A pause. Then another wave of nausea hit. My eyes closed. “Okay.” His voice immediately shifted. Concern replacing confusion. “Sit down.” “No.” “Elena.” “No.” “You’re pale.” “I’m dramatic.”

Seeing her. “And you strike me as a collector who loves Caravaggio not for the artistry,” Elena replied, her voice cool, “but for the way he rendered violence with such breathtaking aesthetics.” Dante let out a quiet laugh. “Touché. I’m Dante Salvatore.” “I know who you are.” She didn’t extend her hand. “Elena Lafayette.” They moved through the pleasantries like fencers circling. Paris. New York. Art consulting. His research. Aria’s paranoidly thorough fictional past. Elena throwing truths at his face like knives.

"Really, Sofia? Are you saying that about my wife?" Salvatore’s voice didn't rise, but it dropped into a terrifying, icy register that made the temperature in the room plummet. His dark eyes locked onto Sofia like a predator targeting a rabbit. The lazy, amused smirk was completely gone from his face, replaced by a cold, murderous promise. "I... I..." Sofia stuttered, the blood instantly draining from her face. She took a panicked step backward, completely choked by the suffocating aura radiating off him. "Don’t you dare talk to my daughter like that, Salvatore! Don’t!" Elizabeth shrieked, throwing her arm out to shield Sofia. She glared at Salvatore with raw, unhinged hatred. "I will still