The Salvatore Saga, Part Four: My new Life

After a long and restful night of sleep, Wulfe assured me that he would protect me from any nightmares. It was now time to begin the second day of the wedding. I felt no sympathy for Mariella, in fact, my smugness had only grown stronger.

This day was another opportunity for me to show Damon what he was missing, although he seemed oblivious to it all. If he wanted to see me as a victim, then so be it. I could play that role, but it also presented me with unique opportunities. Perhaps this would make the heat even more enjoyable.

However, I had a certain feeling in the back of my mind about what the heat would bring. I planned to suppress it as best as I could, allowing the rest of the pack to have a good time and enjoy the heat. It was important for this first heat to be a positive experience, so they would be open to having more in the future.

Going into full-blown mode heat wouldn't convey to them how enjoyable it could be to keep the heat under control. I was simply looking out for my pack. Of course, I also had a few tricks up my sleeve for Damon. The attention I had received thus far was significant, and I anticipated even more today.

As I got ready for the day, I wore a silver leopard print silk dress that glittered and accentuated my figure. I had indulged in a hearty meal the previous night, and it showed on my body. My fast metabolism allowed me to gain a kilo or two quickly if I ate and rested. I had also been doing some exercises during the Christmas season, so I had decent muscle tone as well.

Charles was the one who styled my hair this time. He seemed a bit tense and didn't talk much. I didn't inquire about his experiences from the wedding night, nor did I share mine. After finishing my hair, he made sure my makeup was flawless and escorted me to the grand hall, which had been set up for breakfast.

The cake cutting had been a fun affair. I did it with Adam and Charles while Damon and Mariella stood nearby, she was looking dreamy and drugged. We shared kisses and jokes, animatedly capturing the attention of the press. It seemed they were more interested in us than in Damon and Mariella.

As for the dancing, I danced with everyone except the person who had Mariella tightly under control. I didn't mind, though. It was incredibly enjoyable to dance with Jarod, right in front of Damon and Mariella as they sat there. 

The press had not yet gotten to Jarod that much, but maybe today. I'm not sure. As I sat in my place next to Damon, and Mariella was in her place, the waiters brought our breakfast trays. The guests had a buffet-style breakfast, so they could choose what to take and how much.

I kept my expression neutral, and Wulfe, who sat next to me on the other side of the table, said, "Yesterday was fun. I like this kind of wedding. Let's see what we get to do today with my unicorn."

My alpha side saw her opportunity, and my voice became softer and darker as I replied, "You know, it is less than a week before... let's see if we might get..."

Wulfe smiled, quite heatedly. Damon grunted softly, catching the attention of Mariella.

He hissed to me, "My wife, here, let me feed you."

I turned to watch him, keeping my expression controlled, and smiled as he fed me. There was a slight glint in his eyes, but Mariella soon took his attention. Something in my number one's gaze made my skin crawl, not in a bad way, but in a good way. That glint was not malice or a need to hurt me, but pure lust.

I continued to eat my breakfast as Magnum was now talking with Wulfe, and Damon paid his attention to Wulfe as well. So, I had my little scheme on. I might make a little scene later in the evening. Let's see what this day brings us.

For breakfast, I had a pile of wagyu beef steaks, a little knob of mashed potatoes, lots of butter, and some of my tuned-up salad with lots of mozzarella. Damon had his meat and more potatoes, and some salad too, while Mariella had game and pasta with cream sauce. Her system was different from mine and Damon's, so her food was not really suitable for Damon all the time.

After breakfast, as I had drunk a lot of coffee and coke, it was time to mingle and talk again. I was walking and greeting people when one of my fleas, a guy called Dave Beauchamp, came up to me. There were a lot of fleas here too, and some of them were talking to the press, praising me.

But Dave said to me, "You look absolutely gorgeous. I was just wondering, have you found anyone yet?"

I furrowed my brows, as I had no idea what he was talking about.

I asked, "Who am I supposed to find?"

He frowned slightly and replied, "Oh, you haven't heard. Old Anders retired a few weeks ago. I thought you knew, and I was asking if you have a replacement for him yet."

I sighed. Of course, time for complications.

I furrowed my brows and responded, "This is news to me. So, there won't be a replacement right away, and it might take a few months for me to find someone. Send me all the information, including records and contacts. I need to understand how he operated and what contracts he had."

Dave handed me his phone, or maybe it was Anders'.

He said, "Here's everything. I'll either send the information to you or have it directed to your attention, so you can get familiar with it."

I nodded, took the phone, and teleported it into my study. I had made sure my study remained untouched, so I might have to... damn, what a complication. Dave smiled politely and walked away.

I was left seething in frustration, trying to think if there was anyone I could delegate this to. Unfortunately, Alaric was not an option, as he was part of the heat and unavailable. So, damn it, I would have to handle it myself. Well, at least it would keep me busy during my pregnancy.

As I walked towards a table to sit down, Wulfe and Jarod approached me.

Wulfe looked at me and asked, "What's wrong? Do you have a problem?"

I grunted and replied, "It's work-related, and now is not the time to dive into this particular mess. But at least it will keep me occupied during my pregnancy."

Wulfe nodded and inquired, "What is it?"

I explained, "Old Anders retired, and I have to find a replacement."

Jarod took a deep breath, shook his head, and softly said, "That won't be easy. Well, good for him, but he was pretty..."

I finished his sentence, saying, "Irreplaceable."

Wulfe looked at me with confusion and asked, "Now I must admit, who the hell is Old Anders, and why is his departure such a big deal? I've never heard from or seen him before."

Adam strolled over and took a seat, his face displaying a pensive expression.

He spoke, "You may or may not know this, but old Anders was our asset manager. The fleas have all sorts of possessions - land, forests, shops - everything our sponsors have given us. And Anders, he used to be a bank manager. He got caught when Krycheck tried to brainwash him into becoming his financier because he was skilled in handling money. Mimi saved him, and he pledged his loyalty to the fleas. He was the only one who successfully managed our investments, directing the funds and profits into the account used for compensations to the families. He's not easily replaceable, and with the Heat and breeding season approaching, I must admit, honey, I'm not jealous of your situation right now."

Wulfe nodded slowly and said, "So this kept him occupied. I suppose you'll need someone capable of handling this job."

I nodded and replied, "There's no use in asking Alaric or Charles; I need them elsewhere. I asked Dave to send me everything so I can get an idea of what we have and what needs to be done. It's my organization, my responsibility,"

Jarod stated. "I can't really help either; Miss Parker's time is coming, and then it's all about taking care of the trio of babies. Being a leader is tough,"

I acknowledged. I nodded and said, "This is just one more problem in my life that I don't need right now. Why can't everything just be perfect for once?"

Adam inquired. "I assume you have other issues as well."

I nodded, realizing it was time to confess. "I'm about to enter Mode Heat, but I can keep it under control so it won't spread. However, I might not be as pleasant during Heat, so beware; I'll have a sharp tongue."

Wulfe furrowed his brows and asked, "But why suppress it? We can handle it."

I shook my head and said, "Keep this to yourself; no need for Salvatore to find out. He'll be the first to lose his patience with me if he knows. I can handle this for the sake of our pack, as I should."

We sat there chatting, keeping an eye out in case any of Salvatore's people paid attention to us. Meanwhile, the press was busy talking to Wulfe and Adam, who were divulging details about how we met and almost revealing the entire Project Omega.

It was a peaceful afternoon as I continued to sit with Jarod. We utilized our abilities, conversing for hours, snacking here and there, walking, talking, and laughing at each other's observations. It was enjoyable. Then the reporters started to arrive, tired of following Damon and the Salvatores as they paraded around with drugged females - such mundane subjects.

One of them approached Jarod and asked, "Aren't you that remarkable imitator, the genius who can be anyone he wants to be?"

Jarod chuckled and said, "I'm not an imitator. I'm a pretender. There's a difference in what we do. Imitators simply observe and copy someone's actions, like how they talk or walk. But as pretenders, like this lovely lady next to me, we dive into the minds of those we observe. We try to understand why they behave the way they do. We're not crime profilers, nor are we like the characters in the TV series 'Lie to Me', who look for micro-expressions. People can learn to control their faces and lie right to your face."

The reporter asked, "Can you explain how it actually works?"

Jarod smiled and said, "Well, I'll let my student and dear friend Mimi, demonstrate for you. She'll observe someone for a few minutes, and then you'll see."

The reporter inquired, "And what about you? Are you still on the run from those who captured you?"

Jarod nodded and replied, "The Centre never stops, and there are many others out there who want a piece of me."

The reporter continued to ask more questions about the Centre, and of course, Jarod used the opportunity to his advantage. He wanted to tell his story and make sure it reached a wider audience.

I had chosen a woman as my target, someone who moved her hands while talking, fidgeted, and constantly looked around. She was clearly very nervous. I fully embraced the role, crumpling a napkin in my hand, taking sips from my wineglass, looking around, crossing and uncrossing my legs. Emitting very nervous energy all around me, like I was about to bolt, but not just yet, anyway.

Jarod smiled as he watched me and said to the reporter, "Now, try to guess who her target is."

The reporter was taken aback and struggled to find an answer. I continued my fidgeting and nervous energy, looking around and smiling at photographers, but always ready to react.

Finally, the reporter admitted, "I'm stumped. I don't see anyone behaving like that."

Jarod calmly replied, "Look at the woman in the red dress, ten feet to your left. She's talking to three others."

The reporter turned to look at the woman and me, shaking her head in disbelief. She just couldn't comprehend it.

I decided to let go of my role and spoke in a calm voice, "Look at her. She's trying to mask her anxiety of being in a crowd."

The reporter frowned, still not fully understanding.

I continued, "She's trying to be loud and assertive, as if part of her fears of being attacked or ridiculed, whatever neurosis she may have. So she's figuratively shouting, 'I am here, hear me roar.'"

A soft voice whispered behind me, "Oh baby, you're having so much fun here."

Number one sat down beside me. There was something about him I didn't need right now. It was maybe this mood of his that had made my tongue sing. As Jarod excused himself and reporters followed him, I took a small pastry. My plate was filled with them, and I was about to put one in my mouth to keep myself from talking. At least for a while, so that damn excellent sentence wouldn't slip out.

Damon swiftly took it from my grasp and urged me, "Oh, please, say it. I know you have a sentence coming. Come on baby, make my day."

In a neutral voice, I replied, "Do your fingers hurt from using so many sedative injections to keep Mariella subdued?"

He replied, "No, but they itch to get to you."

I continued, gaining momentum. "I prefer my nights without terror, bloodshed, and the sound of your heartbeat soothing me. If I want to listen to a heartbeat, all I need is a stethoscope, as our hearts beat in unison."

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my chest. It felt as though my heart had been forced to stop.

Damon asked, "Do you want your heart to keep beating?"

He released whatever hold he had on my heart, and it took a moment for it to start beating again.

In a sarcastic tone, I quipped, "You're quite the heartbreaker, aren't you?"

He smiled at me and said, "Just wait until tonight, baby. I can guarantee you won't sleep."

I never learn. I couldn't resist saying, "My heart is just around the corner, so I might need some Cornick to make my night memorable and enjoyable for both of us. You know, I was actually disappointed when you chose Mariella instead of me, but not anymore. It's been so much fun, and I have a little plan. They're starting karaoke soon, so I might go sing while you spend time with your doll."

Damon spoke to me in the softest voice possible. "Oh baby, you won't be in any shape to sing a note soon. And as for tonight and Charles, he'll be preoccupied once again. I know the heat is coming, and it requires some preparations, too."

I didn't pay attention to his soft voice at all. I just had to do it. So, I intensified my pheromones, making his nostrils flare, his brows furrow in irritation, and his mouth tense up.

"Now baby, I suggest you rein it in, or it will be painful, very soon."

I simply smiled innocently as I noticed Tim walking towards us. We had danced a lot with him last evening, and he was a great dancer. 

However, he turned away as Number Four approached him and started talking to him about something. This caused him to follow Number Four.

Damon then said to me, "Too bad he ain't gonna save you. Put those pheromones down, darlin', before I make you."

There was still a certain twang in his speech, a very dangerous one. But my alpha side had to continue, and I had to assert myself in front of him. This side of him made my tongue sing, and it made me feel so alive.

In a firm, low voice, I responded, "Oh, Damon, try to make me behave. I'm not in the mood to be your drugged-up puppet. I have things to do, and places to be. And if you want this heat to start pretty soon, I can't be in terrible condition, like minced meat. Just remember that memory, or do you want a few more snippets? I have them saved in my special place. And it's not just one memory. You're getting soft. You see me as a victim, but hey, it's my win."

I let more of that memory out, challenging him more directly. He stood up and walked away without saying a word. Only one muscle in his jaw twitched. I had successfully pushed him away with memories of that shed session for about 15 minutes. I knew how to make him back off.

I was tired of being weak, of being a victim, of letting others control me. If he could have that with Mariella, then why not have her? This was the new me, and the new me wasn't that nice person anymore. I didn't take a deep breath, show patience, and let Damon do what he wanted. No, it was time for Damon to realize this, too.

I, Mimi Salvatore, was no longer a victim of my past, no longer a victim of the torture sessions that took place over a century ago. I was a freaking strong alpha female, much stronger than Damon, and I had just proven it to him. Or at least, that's what I thought.