Elena's POV
I wasn't going to show up.
I told myself that all morning. All afternoon too. I wasn't going to show up and give Damon the satisfaction of being right. I was going to stay in the guest room, paint my nails, maybe break a few mugs with telekinesis just to work out the frustration.
But then I remembered his smirk. That damn smirk that said You want choices? Sure, I'll give you the illusion of control until I flip the whole board on you.
And that's when I decided.
Fine.
I'd show up.
But on my terms.
So I picked out the most distracting training outfit I owned—black skin-tight leggings that fit like a second, sinfully painted skin and a crimson-red sports bra that showed just enough cleavage to ensure Damon would either lose focus… or combust.
Two could play this game. And I'd win.
