N: Ok, here comes my first AH story, please have mercy! The story is inspired by another story on this site called 'If You Can Afford Me' written by the great author Katy5219; I have her consent on this so I didn't still anything although the general idea belongs to her, this story will be pretty different from hers. It will contain about 7 to 8 chapters and half are already written, so I'll probably be updating every week or so.

This chapter's just the setting, but there will be tons of sexual tension to come, language, mature subject that will get very descriptive, if you're not into detailed smut, please do not read! Thank you!

As always, a big fat thank you goes to me great beta, Valerie (2serendipity) for her amazing work on this!

A cold touch of ambition

Damon took another look at the bar before swallowing the last half of his bourbon in one gulp. The club was packed: what looked like a million people, were carelessly dancing in the middle of it…right between his VIP table and the bar…right between him and her. Didn't they fucking know they were bothering him?

He took a deep breath, inhaling the unhealthy smoke of a cheap cigar. That girl…that girl was making him mad and he meant that in the literal sense…the crazy part was that he didn't even know her...not really.

She looked as perfect as one month ago when he first saw her in the exact same place. A cascade of silky dark-brown hair caressed her bare shoulders, contrasting with her Maize yellow, strapless dress. He still couldn't believe that had happened to him.

"Hello," Damon said, taking a seat next to the beautiful brunet girl at the bar. She turned around nonchalantly to look at him. He expected her to open her eyes wide, to smile shyly at him or mumble something barely recognizable. He wasn't stupid and he most certainly wasn't blind; he knew he was what most women considered 'a catch'. He was young, he was handsome, he worked hard for a close to perfect body and most of all, he was quite the charmer. But she didn't even blink, she didn't budge…actually, her face remained just as emotionless as a doll's.

"Can I help you?" she asked casually.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked, not intending to give up so easily. Damon Salvatore never gave up! He'd spotted her from across the room and she'd caught his attention like no other girl ever had, without even trying. Now he wanted to know her, talk to her, flirt with her, but she was having none of it.

"Thanks, but I'm good," she said, raising a half empty glass of what Damon guessed was Cosmopolitan, if the pale Amaranth red color and the tiny electric pink cherry on the bottom of the glass was any indication.

Damon just stared at her for a few seconds, carefully planning his next move. It looked like no matter what he'd say or do, she'd throw it back in his face. He could handle pushy, drunk, crazy, irritated…just about any kind of behaviour from the opposite sex, in fact he was quite good with any of it, but this girl wasn't showing anything: no emotions, no fire in her eyes, just coldness…a coldness that could freeze over the Mediterranean. Her frigid attitude almost made him shiver.

"I can see I'm bothering you. I'll just be at the fourth table on your right if you should change your mind and you find that you do want to have another drink," he said and returned to his table without giving her a second glace.

She didn't even blink and she not only didn't join him, but she didn't visit the bar for a full two weeks. Ever since that night, Damon swore to himself and to Matt – his best friend – that he would get her to beg for him to take her.

He could already imagine her frozen eyes finally burning…burning with desire for him; her once cold voice turning into a soft whisper, eager and full of lust as her perfect, warm body clung to his. Then he'd take a look at her and he'd leave her wondering what went wrong, just like she had done to him.

She passed her hand through her generous mass of curls, making them dance joyfully around her face and fall just as perfect on her back as they'd been before.

Two days after that night, he'd found out her name was Elena Gilbert; he discovered that she lived with her little brother in an old house on Ramton Street*. Both her parents had died in a car accident about three and a half years ago and ever since she'd been taking care of her brother. She was 22 years old and she was studying Law at the local University. None of these facts surprised or 'moved' Damon in any way; except one…her job. He was expecting her to be a waitress at some upscale, classy restaurant, bar tender even, in a wealthy club… He actually expected anything but what he found. She was a 'Lady Companion', which was a fancy word for a hooker, as Damon had always thought. It was fairly simple: either you were a hooker, or you were not. There were plenty of other jobs, especially in a big city like LA, but she'd chosen this one…. He had no respect for her choice or for her. That was the moment that everything became a game for Damon; just a cruel game, nothing more.

Damon still couldn't believe that an angelic creature like her could be anything but pure and perfect, but the ugly truth was that she was far from perfect, and she was most certainly not pure.

"She only has rich clients. I guess that's why she turned you down; she probably thought you weren't worth her time," Matt said, handing him a thick file that contained pretty much all of her clients. The list wasn't short.

No one turns down Damon Salvatore and gets away with it…noone! Her rejection made him feel like a joke and now that he knew what she was, it made him feel even worse. Who the hell did this bitch think she was anyway?

He was grateful that he had a private investigator for a best friend, especially when he really needed information; but for some reason, he wished he'd never found out all he now knew about her. Not all of it. Because after reading that, he felt dirty.

The funny – if you have a dark sense of humour, at least – thing was that Damon Salvatore was actually a pretty wealthy guy. He was the sole owner of three very well-known clubs and two Italian restaurants in downtown LA. Ironically, this made him in fact - in her book anyway – the exact type of 'client' that a girl like her would be looking for.

But if there was one thing that Damon was sure of, it was that he would never, ever fuck a girl like her.

He just hoped that he'd be able to go on with his plan and keep his word on that. Yeah, that was all he hoped for.

"Are you going to go talk to her sometime tonight or are you just going to stare at her? I think you've waited long enough already," Matt said, taking a seat beside him.

"So all she knows is that I'm Damon Salvatore and that I just took a huge loan from the bank to pay for her services, right?" Damon asked with a grin on his face that made Matt raise an eyebrow at his friend.

He still didn't understand what the big deal was. So a girl was 'crazy' enough to turn down Damon Salvatore… Ok, so he knew that something like that had never happened before, but still… he didn't get his friend's obsession to make her 'fall' for him. Why? It was a good thing that he'd stopped questioning Damon's motives a long time ago.

Matt had the pleasure of knowing Damon Salvatore for more than 5 years now. They met when they happened to go for the same girl, called Katherine Pierce. She was a beautiful Bulgarian model that had recently moved to LA, looking for what everyone was looking for: getting as rich as possible, as fast as possible and live the American dream at its fullest.

It turned out that she liked her men like her wine, very rich and very old. She moved to Miami with Carlos Averred*, a really old producer, leaving both Matt and Damon to each other. Literally, by asking them both to meet her at the same place…. And then not showing up herself. Their hatred for Katherine had brought them together and even since, they'd become best friends.

Matt would help Damon 'keep an eye' on his clients and Damon would help Matt make new, powerful and rich clients. Really, it was a win-win on all sides.

"Yes. I told you I talked to one of her regulars. He told her about a guy that's not rich, but has a little money and he's in real need for some… company. The only thing she was concerned about was getting paid, which is why she wants half the money in advance."

"No problem, she'll get that," Damon winked and Matt rolled his eyes.

***we pay the price***

Elena gave the cute bartender another one of her 'special' smiles in exchange for a second virgin Cosmo; men were all just a bunch of fools that were ready to sell their own mother for pretty girl. To say that Elena didn't have any respect for the male population was an understatement. They were there, ready to love you one minute and the next, they could be gone and you'd never hear from them again. That's what had happened with Tyler. They'd been together for two years before she gave herself to him. Three months later her parents died in a car crash and two weeks later Tyler was history. What she thought was special, turned out to be a joke to him, so she decided to treat everything and everyone as a joke, or better yet, as nothing more than a job; at least that way, she wouldn't get hurt ever again.

She stole another glace at the clock, elegantly displayed on the purple screen of her brand new iPhone. He was already 35 minutes late. She didn't mind waiting, but she'd never waited that long before. They usually came earlier, just to make sure they wouldn't miss her.

Elena Gilbert did not know the meaning of the expression 'low self-esteem'. Ever since she was five, she'd started competing in beauty contests, and winning 99% of them. Her parents, her teachers, her friends, everyone had been constantly telling her how beautiful and perfect she was. How gorgeous her hair fell in waves over her shoulders, how her sensual and perfectly sculpted lips would make boys day-dream about her, how her brandy colored eyes allowed her to get just about anything she wanted. Yes, Elena Gilbert knew her own worth.

Just when she was about to call it a night and go home, a warm, firm hand grabbed her arm.

"You're not leaving, are you?" a low, deep voice asked close to her ear and for a second, just a split second, Elena was tempted to just lay her head backwards and let her body melt against his chest – a chest that felt hard and perfect as it was pressed against her back.

She clenched her fists, digging her nails into the palm of her hand as hard as she could to pull herself out of that miserable place the stranger behind her had gotten her into.

It worked, as it always did, because when she turned around, there was no emotion in her soft brown eyes.

***we pay the price***

Damon waited for her to stand up and take a few steps away from the bar before rushing over and grabbing her arm. He took another step and felt her back pressing against his chest.

"You're not leaving, are you?" he asked, leaning in just a little bit, so he could whisper the words in her ear. He let his lips brush her earlobe softly…barely, but he knew the effect that gesture, in combination with his low, seductive voice, could have on a woman. To his delight, he felt her shoulder tense for just a second, enough to let him know that she wasn't the 'ice queen' she pretended to be.

This would be easier than I thought, Damon reasoned, but he was in for a surprise, because Damon Salvatore was about to meet his match at the stubbornness game.

*- the names with a '*' are all fictional and they do not make referance to any real ones.

N: This is it, the first chapter. We got to meet Damon in all his cocky glory, Elena the 'ice-queen' and Matt the private investigator and Damon's best friend. I hope you liked it enough to care what happens next and leave a review for a very anxious writer.