EC slipped on her best pair of Louboutins that were sitting beside the chaise lounge she had been reclining on. She felt empowered when she donned her breakneck heels. The click of the heels against the hardwood floor brought a satisfied smile to her pouty lips. She took her time getting to the door not wanting to appear like some over eager woman pushing thirty, even if that was exactly what she was. The years and the tough times had made Emma-Claire Stryker an actress worthy of an Oscar. She could fool almost anyone with her charming smile and her preening, except for that damned Texan. If he gave her much more trouble she would just have to see to slapping the living daylights out of him.
Her hand found the door knob and twisted very, very slowly. She peeped through the crack in the door to make sure that it was Damon and only Damon out there. She didn’t want Evan to know that she had a guest up in her room. EC knew that if she did there would be certain hell to pay, especially since her niece was carrying that poor handsome dead boy’s child. She had tried her damnedest to talk the girl into putting the kid up for adoption. It just seemed the logical route for a vibrant young girl. “Mr. Salvatore,” she greeted him, while flinging the door open in a grandiose manner.
EC allowed her eyes to shamelessly rake over the man in front of her. He was lovely for a vampire. She had had vampires before too, but none of them could quite physically compare to this one. Oh he would be lots of fun for sure. “What brings you to these parts?” She looked up at him, batting her eyelashes while asking the question, looking as innocent as a woman of her stature possibly could. EC knew how to work men, even those of the supernatural persuasion better than she knew how to do anything else, except for maybe her make up.
Damon wasn’t interested in being wrapped around anyone’s finger, not anymore. He’d gone through that enough in his past with Katherine and even Elena though she didn’t know it. No, Damon was going to do things how he wanted them done. Someone as striking as Emma Claire was certainly a black widow and knew how to lure men in with her pouty lips and graceful stature. Damon knew the game well, for he had quite a while to see women of several eras charm a man into their beds.
Emma Claire was different though, in some way he saw something in her that ignited him to want to put forth the effort. He offered a charming smile when she fully opened the door, reaching for her hand to place a light kiss to her palm. “Madame Stryker,” he let her hand fall down gently before clasping his own in front of him. My, my she was a sight to behold. “I hope I’m not visiting at a inopportune time, I was merely in the neighborhood and remembered your invitation to pay you a visit.”
It wasn’t a complete lie, he had been in the neighborhood feeding. Looking around the hallway for a brief moment, seeing no one else was present but hearing the soft cries of a female that were evidently trying to be muffled by something, a frown crossed his features briefly. As cold of a creature that Damon could be, women crying had always managed to get under the vampire’s skin. “May I come in for a bit? Or would you prefer to go downstairs? I can wait for you to,” his eyes swept over her form appreciatively. “Out here for you to dress.”